Mommie(s) and Me Time

I'm getting to the point in my marathon training where I find myself relating all too well to the question, "Is this baby ever going to come?" Listen all you mommies out there, I admit to having never been pregnant but don't push me in front of the momma train for not knowing what I'm talking about! I've been around enough of you over the years, not only my circle of friends who were pregnant more often than not, but in more than 20 years of working with young families I've been up close and personal with "you kind of people," and so what I'm about to say is a first-hand account based on historical proof.
In the beginning of pregnancy, those lucky enough to avoid the throws of morning sickness (crackers anyone?) glow with the wonder of the new life growing in their belly. They radiant motherhood, and wax eloquent over all things maternal. And sometimes, if you listen close enough, you can even hear a pregnant woman purr with contentment. Seriously.

And then, it happens. When it happens is different from woman to woman. But for all of them there comes that moment when they are simply done being pregnant. Be honest here. Have you ever heard an overdue pregnant woman say "I'm loving this so much, I hope the baby is a few more weeks late."? Not a chance! No, at some point, and understandably so, the glow fades and the dialogue moves away from the wonders of new life to "I want the baby out now! I want my body back now! I want to see my toes! I'm tired of peeing every fifteen minutes! Is this baby ever going to come?"

Okay, fine. You are the exception. You radianted and beamed with sublime delight through the appearance of the placenta. If that's the case, then let's just say I'm talking about them, those other mommies, not you.

Can you believe how I digressed?

My point was and still is....I think....that in January when I began training for the marathon I was wacked out with excitement. I'd pop out of bed before the alarm went off to get out on my walk. I'd savor every word of Runner's World Magazine. I tended my blisters like trophies, and sweat stains on my sports bra and shirt made me burst with pride. I was training for a marathon and one day I would be an honest-to-goodness marathoner. Me. One of the 1%. Any discomfort in body or inconvenience in time was worth it for the reward that would come at the end.

Today I caught a glimpse of it happening. "I'm done. I just want the marathon to be here. These LSD's are getting too L. I'm tired of scraping fungus off my two snarly toes. I want to hit the snooze button three times like in the old days. I don't want to take multiple showers every day. I want to drink water when I'm thirsty and not to hydrate hydrate hydrate!" [Please note, to accurately capture the emotional angst of the previous quotation it must be read in a whine.]

Even though I'm not ready for the marathon, I'm ready for the marathon. I'm ready to stand among thousands of runners and fellow walkers instead of heading out with me, myself, and I every day as the entire field of participants. I'm ready to wave to cheering crowds on the sidelines rather than ducking a water bottle hurled out of a car window by bored teenagers. A cup of water waiting for me every two miles would be a nice break from hefting a two liter hydration system around on my back. And it would be a real treat to receive a finisher's medal at the end of the marathon instead of completing a walk to find a fresh fur ball waiting for me on the entry way carpet.

Thirty-three days until the marathon. Two 20-milers, one more 12-mile tempo. A handful each of six-milers, three-milers, and five-milers. Then the big day. I'm at the point where I need to keep this in perspective. All my efforts are leading me to the chance to do something I would have never imagined possible a few short years ago. It's not going to matter that my back was killing me on one of my LSD days in June when my wife is telling me she's proud of me at the finish line, and walking through a blister or two will be forgotten when I reach my goal of being in a marathon.

In a funny sort of way that I hadn't thought about when I first started tapping out this entry, all of this has really been about giving birth to something after all...a dream, a new beginning, a fresh start. I'll try to remember that tomorrow morning when I hear the alarm ringing through my last seconds of foggy sleep. And who knows, I might just purr. Seriously.