The Little Run That Wasn't So Little

All ready to ride (on another trip)

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The thing that I like best about having children is that everything is an adventure. And when a good day happens, you just feel like shouting from the rooftops. Here's my story of today's run. Don't expect to be thrilled at the mileage or the time. This run was far more special. Besides, all really good runs aren't about those things anyway.

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My usual routine for Tuesdays is to do the elliptical machine in our bonus room for anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour. Today I wasn't motivated at all as I trudged up the stairs around 9 a.m. to begin my workout. The children, my four and a half year old son and three and a half year old daughter, were awake and had just eaten breakfast. I must've been feeling ambitious because I decided to try out a run with the double BOB stroller. A little over three years ago, Rick and I had wisely invested in this stroller. We became a family of "two under two" and knew that we had to find a way to run together and to allow me to run alone during the week. We searched Craigslist and happened to find one less than half price right down the street! This stroller provided me so much freedom in those early days, back when they were so little. Fast forward to today. My son is forty pounds, and my daughter is thirty pounds. The stroller itself is another thirty pounds. One hundred pounds of children and stroller equals some major hardship for this wimpy-armed momma. Oh well, I would see what I could do.
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I loaded up the stroller with the children and their drinks and snacks, put my earphones in, and started my watch. The weather was a pleasant forty-nine degrees for me, but they each had a blanket tucked snuggly around their legs. I headed for the greenway, a short run from our house. The greenway follows Mill Creek for about a half of a mile. Andrew Peterson's Counting Stars and Behold the Lamb kept me company as I plodded along behind the monstrosity of a stroller. We heard the creek's water as it churned along next to us. I approached the end of the greenway and headed for the sidewalk on Balch Road. I followed it for aways before crossing the street to enter a hilly nearby neighborhood.

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The snacks were running out, and the conversations between my two began. Probably two years ago, my son and daughter had their first conversation together while in the jogging stroller (a simple one about what color my daughter's blanket was). I remember rushing inside to write it down before I forgot it. Today I saw the plastic bag caught on the top tree limb before my daughter noticed it. The bag danced in the wind as it tried to escape the limb's grasp. It was pointed out to my son with much excitement by my daughter. They both sat watching it for awhile. I hit a hill and literally leaned forward with arms outstretched and my hands gripping the stroller and pushed with all my might. Though my legs were moving, it wasn't much of a run. We made slow progress up that hill.

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As I continued gathering bits and pieces of their conversations, I felt so happy to be able to be in those moments. My son saw the neighborhood's clubhouse and pointed it out to my daughter (I was impressed that he could recognize it as a clubhouse and not just another house). He loves to be the wise older brother. He continued to teach her about other things he saw along the way, like the reflectors on the mailboxes. They both speculated about whether it would start raining harder as we felt the first drops splash onto us (I was lucky that it did not.). My daughter started squeaking like a little mouse and told my son stories about a monster (I only heard bits and pieces of that one but I'm sure it involved a lot of her big imagination!). We passed a playground and my son reasoned to my daughter that we weren't stopping to play since it was probably muddy on the equipment. As I approached the last leg of my four mile journey, I found myself taking one earphone out, and then the other, just so I could hear their conversations better. We saw a huge gathering of birds in the bare February trees, and we saw horses in "dress up clothes" (red and green!).

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Heading for home, I turned the corner and ran alongside our neighborhood elementary school. I was close enough to see the receptionist inside and the snowflake decorations dotting the windows. I thought about how my children would be spending years of their little childhoods behind those walls-- years of moments where they would not be with me, where I would not be privy to their every conversation. Thankfulness for today overwhelmed me.
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I finished the run in a pathetic forty-one minutes (which included the stop to tuck their blankets back down over their legs). The stroller's weight caused my arms to feel so weary that I am still shaking a little as I type this hours later. Aside from a few smiles and nods in my direction, there was little notice paid to the runner behind this stroller today. There was no PR, no finisher's medal, no age group award. But today I prefer this little run and those not-so-little seventy pounds of children. Today it's those other things that seem so very little.