Today was the heaviest run I’ve ever done. 5km on flat terrain….
But I nearly didn’t get there.
Or at least, HEAVY is the perfect word for how it felt from the word go.
Heavy because I was exhausted. Nights of weeks of months of now FOUR years of sleep deprivation. From tantrums. Food throwing. Four year old meltdowns and terrible twos.
Heavy because my legs felt like leadweights that wouldn’t go.
Heavy because my two children, despite their initial resistance who were finally seated happily in the pram, taking in the sites and sounds. Still running with me four years in.
Heavy because of the relentless drain of energy and refill of love, ebbing and flowing in each day that is mothering young children.
Heavy because, despite my headphones being in and having new music going, my daughter still asked me questions about every duck, goose, bird or tree we passed. And I tried my best to answer.
Heavy because if I slowed up, she would immediately call out “WHY are you going slow Mummy? RUN FASTER!”
Heavy because my son would hang his little fist out of the pram every time his snack container was empty, asking for more…
But when that giant playground came into view at the end, and their little cheers of delight reached my ears, I ran faster.
HARDER. Found my feet and gave 100%. They clapped.
They CHEERED “YAY MUMMY WE’RE ALMOST THERE!”
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When we reached that playground and I let them out to catch my breath, grab a water and quickly move into ‘don’t fall off that’ mode, sweat dripping down my back, I was reminded.
Why I decided to get out there.
Why I decided to take them with me.
And why, no matter what, THAT will always be my best decision.
Get out there Mumma’s…