I'm new to this running thing. And by "new" I mean that I started on Wednesday...today is Friday. But, I ran on Wednesday and again today and when you are a mom anything that you do more than once within the same week is automatically considered an exercise regimen. This means that if I were to go to the doctor today and she asked me what kind of exercise I've been getting, I would tell her with absolutely no qualms that I am, indeed, a runner.
The reason that today's run was such a big deal (other than the fact that it cements the "runner" title) is that I decided that I could run while pushing my two youngest children in a stroller. If you've ever seen any of my children you know that they aren't the tiniest people in the world, and so I knew that I had my work cut-out for me. What I didn't realize was the fact that there is a reason they have what are apparently called "jogging strollers." Although I am an avid runner, as was previously established, I was unaware of just how difficult it would be to cart those two lard-butts around in what could possibly be mistaken for a homeless man's shopping cart. I've had the stupid thing for 8 years. I don't know why I thought it would work, with it's tattered cover, it's 3 1/2 wheels complete with teeth marks (yes my children chew on stroller wheels, don't judge...yours would too if you weren't so busy giving them "attention" all the time.)
To make matters worse, my three-year-old keeps talking to me while I'm running and expecting me to answer her. Finally during one of my walking breaks, I simply told her that "Mommy can't answer you when I'm running because if I do, I might throw up my shoelaces." This explanation only appeases her for the next thirty seconds, which really sucks because the next thing that came out of her mouth nearly made me push her butt down the hill and run in the other direction. My sweet daughter turns around in the stroller, throwing off my already questionable balance, and says "Hey Mommy! Look at that girl. She's running just like you, only she's kind of tiny and little. You know? Like a cute little bunny rabbit!"
So I turn around to see little Miss Cottontail, and she of course wears a size 0, is approximately 19-20 years old, and has an ass that just won't quit. She also has her beautiful blonde hair twisted up into to some kind of cute little "it took all of five seconds to look this adorable" bun thingy. She all but sprinted past us with a little wave and a smile, and she certainly isn't sweating because it's such nice day outside and who would break a sweat during something as simple as a little jog?
Despite the many years that I have been out of high school and away from organized sports, I have managed to retain enough of a competitive streak to get myself into trouble. So, I hike the sweatpants over the love handles, towel off my face (which makes me wonder if it had rained at some point and I hadn't noticed), and against all better judgment, start to pick up speed. You guessed it! I'm going to pass her. I summons every last particle of energy that I can muster and push the stroller past her. It only lasts about 30 seconds, and when I get to the bottom of the hill, I throw up what appears to be one of my lungs, but at least I had passed her!! Ha! Take that you little wretch!
Somehow I got the stroller back into our driveway, and that little fuzzy, stinging sensation in my head was starting to get better. And who comes by all smiles and waves? Yep, that adorable little energizer bunny. Well, she may still be going, but for a brief moment, despite the c-section scars and the boobs that were slapping me in the face...I owned that road.