All posts tagged: #running

No excuses launch-pad day

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No one was more surprised than me when I took up running a few months after baby number 2 was born. I was never…sporty, and spent many a P.E. lesson at school hiding in the loos. Don’t get me wrong, I have the co-ordination of a constipated in-bred labradoodle and will never break any speed records – I’m not a PROPER runner. But I’ve loved the personal satisfaction that has come from running half marathons, and *really* enjoyed the personal satisfaction of swigging wine from a drink bottle post-run in a hotel hot pool with a girlfriend on a running trip we did together. This year, I set myself the lofty goal of running a full marathon. Then life got in the way and I haven’t run for months and months because I’ve been full of excuses: “I’m tired because the kids have been up coughing all night, my running top smells funny, I’m getting used to my new job, the weather is shit, there’s just no time, does my thyroid look especially large to …

Running with a side of Womanly Shame

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A desperate search for a valid reason to have a child-free weekend, combined with some sort of downhill-slide-to-forty crisis saw me signing up for an out of town marathon. My lofty goals were downgraded to a half marathon after I hurt my leg, although I didn’t mind much as it gave me great pleasure to say I had a “sport related injury” as if I was someone who sports often enough to sustain a sporty injury. With my parents looking after the girls, my husband and I set off on what I’d started imagining as a weekend of drinking and eating with a 21km jog slotted in. I’d usually rather give birth again than endure a five hour car journey through winding scenery, but without kids it was pure JOY. We had uninterrupted conversations the whole way. No one whined. No one threw up. No Wiggles music was played. No one demanded snacks. Actually that last one isn’t true – I demanded we stop and get a Snickers bar, just so I could eat chocolate …

It’s first place or nothing

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So while I was stoked to still be standing upright, Amy cried actual tears over me not winning the Auckland half marathon on Sunday. The fact that I was never, ever going to come even remotely close to winning, and my (fleeting) joy at improving on last year’s time meant nothing to her. I gave her my participant’s medal as a jollying-up tactic, but she held it sadly and asked, “well who DID win?” I invented a quick story about a runner named Jonathan winning, who’d run lots of races (because I DON’T KNOW). She thought about it for a while, then morosely looked out the window and muttered, “well, I hope Jonathan got an actual trophy, and not just the same medal that you and all the other people who didn’t win got given”. Gee thanks, “Jonathan”, and the thousands of other runners who drank less wine, trained harder and ran faster…thus causing me to bring non-winning shame upon my family.

Spoiler alert: I won’t be winning it

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Amy while supervising as I sorted out my running kit: “So the half marrafon you’re running this weekend, is it the same one you did last year?” Me: “Yes, it is” Amy: “The one you didn’t win, but they gave you a medal anyway?” Me: “Well, er, no I didn’t win, but I was just really happy to finish it…” Amy: “Maybe try a bit harder this year, because it’d be better if you won.  If you DO win, I’ll do this cool dance and shout YAY MUMMY YOU WON! If you don’t win, I’ll just give you a sad cuddle.” *demonstrates cool dance vs. sad cuddle*

Running!

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I’ve never been a big fan of running. My husband (Jeremy) and I used to openly scoff at Healthy Couples who went running together on weekends, while we gorged ourselves on Eggs Benedict and masses of inactivity. There was a brief reprise from my running aversion in the lead up to our wedding, when, fresh from getting engaged during a trip to Europe that involved pretty much non-stop eating, I chose an exceptionally unforgiving wedding dress and had to take drastic action to fit it. Apart from short-lived bursts of resolutions where I’d set up a monthly donation to over-priced gyms, and a stint of healthy eating and fast walking with the buggy after Amy (now three) was born to prepare for a trip where swimwear would be a major wardrobe feature, there was never any real interest in fitness. I mean, Rachel Smalley wouldn’t have pointed at me and shouted “lardo!”, but I was just never particularly fit. Jeremy started running as part of a lifestyle change following a diagnosis of “how are you …