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Turning 40, motherhood, runningfifteen days…
I have 15 days left in my thirties, but it’s all good. I’m starting to like the sound of the word ”forty”. It sounds tidy and solid. I haven’t planned how I will celebrate. I really don’t know. I definitely do not want a party. I am too much of an introvert to enjoy that. Everyone I know has been warned. Is having the birthday girl burst into tears and run in the other direction a desirable reaction after the guests yell “surprise”? I think a nice dinner with the hubby will suffice. Maybe start the day with a great run. Maybe a Blizzard from Dairy Queen. I feel like looking on this as New Year’s Day. What resolutions can I make? Not for the coming year alone but for my future in general. One biggie is to get my finances in order. The other is career related but that is another big can of worms. One is about becoming more involved socially. Maybe drop in on the local running club once a week. Maybe try and train (hamstring willing!) for a race. There are more. I shall muse on this.
On another note we had a great hike yesterday. Not super long but a lovely destination and the kids had a blast playing in a lovely cold river.
More running
I want to want to run fast again. I used to be reasonably fast for a busy mother of three, but a severe running related injury nearly five years ago has caused me chronic problems. So that is a part of it, but I have also lost my drive and desire. Perhaps that is a part of my life that is done and I should not try to get it back, but how do I know? Maybe one more kick at the can would be incredibly fulfilling. There is nothing like the feeling after a great track workout. Blasting off some great 400s or 800s or km repeats produces a high that is difficult to replicate in a clean living way. I do plug away, several times a week, darting around my neighborhood and nearby trails, but there is no goal, no actual “training”. How to get that back though?
Going out
My husband and I saw Spamalot last night. It was very entertaining, lighthearted, good fun. Jolly good. I had my hair cut and styled just before. It was kind of a coincidence as I am not the type of person to get my hair done for an occasion. Anyway, I looked very, very different. Almost like a different person. It was similar to one of those before and after makeover shows. I was the “woman who makes little effort” to “wow”. An example of the change, and it is a little embarrassing, is that my family went crazy. They dragged themselves away from Wii and Facebook and whatever else and marvelled. Is this really our mother? I swear my daughter seemed to love me more. Perhaps my who cares attitude distresses her- she who is apparently in possession of some girly-girl genetic material from I don’t know where. She was so happy to help me with my dress, clasp my necklace, touch my hair, pick out a lip gloss. Finally she got to have a mother-daughter experience that she’s really been craving. She has a little friend with a va-va-va-voom mother. A “tight skirt, mani-pedi, full face of make-up, flowing hair, breast implant” (last descriptor not necessary and kind of mean) mother. She even talks like Jessica Rabbit. I know she thinks this woman is wonderful. The getting ready for Spamalot experience has taught me a couple of things. One, I need to buy a flat iron. Two, I need to be more active in nurturing who she is and having a little fun with it, so she finds some moderation.
Forty is coming fast
The big day approaches. I really only have a few weeks left as a woman in her late thirties. Despite all I thought I was, (confident and wise) I am fairly apprehensive about how I am going to handle it when those numbers flip over to this big milestone decade. I am doing all the cliche “taking stock”, questioning my life’s direction, feeling time’s squeeze etc. Of course I want to age. Who doesn’t? Really, aging is the goal. Let’s make this life long and good. N’s 16th birthday was an emotional day for me. Along those same taking stock lines. I’ve been a mom for 16 years, yet just yesterday I was 16 myself. Though the kids can’t believe it. Teaching N to drive elicited this “It was easier for you to learn to drive because there weren’t as many cars on the road”. In actual terms this may be so, but what is he picturing? Long stretches of empty dirt roads with the occasional Model T rumbling slowly by? Oh to be 16 again. The look of delight on his face when he passed that learner’s test formed a lump in my throat. Though, admittedly, many things seemt to bring me close to tears these days. Can you imagine being on the threshold of life? I sound like a 90 year old here! But that’s how he is. High school, good looking kid, smart, learning to drive. It’s all ahead for him. So much to come. Of course I had some pretty bleak years in there I would not want to repeat. But if I had it to do over again……. Ah, that’s really what it’s all about isn’t it? Anyway, it’s all good. Summer isn’t yet halfway over and there is fun to be had.
summer
Summer in a household with two teachers- always something to look forward to. We tell the kids they can’t complain-ever. Some children are in daycare. Yes by the end of August we all need some space but right now there is a sense of euphoria. Eight weeks stretching out before us. I am somewhat anxious this summer, anxious to fill it up with family time. Our summers as a fivesome are numbered. Our oldest is nearly 16. When will he say, “I’m not coming this summer Mom.” I’ll cry. Our summers have felt like a part of life that will never change, like waking up each morning and stretching, anticipating the day ahead. Though I am seeing this with more realism now. Perhaps I am growing up too (on the eve of my 40s!). When we’re young don’t we think we’ll be young forever? When we’re in the throes of the intense parenting years don’t we think we will be in them forever? And then seemingly overnight we emerge, or begin too. I still have my baby girl (9) but once we cease to be all together in this, it clearly won’t be the same.
Running
My injury is all but healed and I am running again. My Monday run was in the trails, as it was a warm day and the sun was still quite strong by early evening. I took my crazy dog so he could burn off some energy. I usually leave him at home in the summer, as he doesn’t handle the heat well, but most of this run was along the river so he made many forays out into the water to cool himself off. Unfortunately this mean he would clamber out (every time!) just in front of me, and dash off leaving me sprayed with river water and mud. The forest is so verdant right now, and the birds so talkative (is that the best description?) It’s just amazingly beautiful and fulfilling to run in there right now. I climb into my car feeling relaxed and happy. Except now….. can I justify driving to the trail to run, instead of just heading out my front door, when gas prices are so high? Not to mention green-guilt. I don’t know, life’s little pleasures….
I pick running-
I pick running. I am a little surprised but the answer was handed to me. It’s unequivocal. I rode for years and years as a child and teen. I owned my own horses, did pony club and jumpers and eventing. I rode every day. I mucked out stalls and groomed and turned out and brought back in, the whole thing. Then I gave it all up for university- money and time. Needing a passion, a sport, a diversion I found running. People would ask, do you miss riding do you want to ride? No, I would reply, it’s just about having a passion, it doesn’t really matter what it is. I’ve been running for more years than I ever rode (who knew the years would pass so rapidly?) Several weeks ago I revisited riding, taking lessons and finding delight in the fact that my body remembered how to approach a jump and apply the aids etc. I loved it, it felt great. Then I was thrown by a little bastard horse right after a jump and my poor sacrum hurt like hell. Running Running Running- that’s what my panic thoughts kept coming back to. I want to run and I need to run. Now three weeks of hobbling have brought me to a point where I can slowly lope through 5 km with minimal pain. I can enjoy the riding ringside, watching my kid. This girl’s a runner.
