Monday, December 12, 2011

Runner in training.

Okay, so maybe Oliver is a bit young to be running... for now...

This was Friday, 12/9.  As you can see in the above video, my life is about to change. Again.
(I'm sure yelling "YAY" made him fall down). Walking will quickly turn to running, and injuries will become more plentiful.

The above pictures were taken at the Hartford Marathon in October, and I loved that O could wear this shirt. It was given to us by a friend, obviously a running friend. In case you can't see the multi-colored letters say "Runner in Training: 2030" (he'd be 19). 

The friend who gave this to us is one of the people that has truly inspired me, as a mom and as a runner. She's the mother of four (two boys, two girls) and she's completed numerous marathons, knocking on the door of 4:00:00. Despite broken wrists, thumbs, twisted ankles, and all of the other injuries that come with four children, she runs. She runs because, like me, it makes me a better mom. It makes me more patient, more calm, more understanding, and more centered. If she can do it with four, I can try with one.

I love the shirt, not because I want him to be a runner, but because I want him to be exposed to sports, to the outdoors, to physical fitness, healthy eating, and everything I enjoy about running. I don't care if Oliver doesn't run, in fact I won't be upset if he doesn't want to run (I hope my husband will feel the same way if he doesn't want to play tennis either.)

I still remember two friends I grew up with whose parents were runners. (Side note: I buy my running shoes from the family-owned store of one of them). These were two of the healthiest kids I knew, and they always kicked butt on Field Day.  I remember envying the medals they brought in for show and tell. To me, there wasn't much of a difference between that and an Olympic medal.

My middle school social studies teacher was also an avid runner, and we always saw him on the weekends running around town. (Think about the 1970s runners with Bill Rodgers shirts and short shorts).  To a pre-driving teen, distance has no real meaning, and I remember thinking he was about 135 miles from his house.  As a teacher (former life), he made me feel like it was possible to balance work, family and running, and he did it with ease. (I still haven't managed to try all three).

I just want Oliver to be able to remember running with me, in the stroller, maybe a turkey trot or two, and maybe if I'm extremely lucky, one day he'll ask to really run with me... and I'll likely be following in his dust.

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