My husband and I ran the Morton Arboretum 5K this weekend. We signed up months ago, both desperately needing a deadline, a goal, SOMETHING to motivate us to keep in shape despite the craziness that is raising 3 kids under 5 years old. It worked. When an overcast day threatened to keep us inside or the couch and our DVR full of this season’s newest premieres beckoned us from the family room, we decided to run instead (neither one of us wanting to embarrass ourselves on race day). Two days before the race we still hadn’t found a babysitter for the kids and were not sure if we would make it. Then my Aunt Maureen (AKA Fairy Godmother) stepped in offering to meet us at the Arboretum. The night before the race we had second thoughts again. My husband, returning from a bachelor party and me, up with a teething Gabriel, met in the kitchen at 1 AM. Should we really wake everyone up at 6:30 AM to leave for the race tomorrow? ……………..Yes.
I hit the snooze on my phone alarm at 6:15 AM. That extra 5 minutes would later prove to almost thwart our efforts entirely. We got dressed in our race clothes and then began slowly waking the kids one by one. First Tyler who was most chipper in the early morning hours. Then Maddy, NOT a morning person. And finally Gabe (I can count on one hand the number of times I have willingly woke this child up in all his 7 months of life). He squinted up at me from his crib with a disoriented expression of “WTF?!”
The temperature read low 40’s so we ran around grabbing the kids’ coats and the “Bundle Me” wrap for Gabe’s carseat. Breakfast consisted of dry Cheerios in baggies and cups of milk to inhale in the car. So much for the Race Day Smoothie I planned to make for us. I grabbed us a few granola bars, oh and a bottle for Gabe, and ran to the car. We were late. We were ALWAYS late. Even when I left an extra 10 minutes in our morning routine. There were the last minute diaper changes for Gabe, the missing pink gym shoe of Madelyn’s (that I once found in the refrigerator, certainly a prank pulled by Tyler), the lost car keys. You name it. Once we actually leave the house, the 25 feet we travel from the garage to the car in the driveway is full of temptations for the older kids. There is Dad’s open toolbox to rifle through, a spider web to inspect, dandelions in the front yard to pick, etc, etc, etc. “HURRY up! Get into your carseats! You guys, we’re LATE! Tyler where ARE you?!!!” It’s the same story every morning. I once tried to leave the house without saying “hurry up” once. Impossible.
We pulled up to the Arboretum on race day to hundreds of cars and thousands of people. We were directed to a parking lot at least a mile away from the registration tent. Many people were already sporting their race numbers and jogging or stretching to warm-up. It was 7:35 AM, the race started at 8:00 sharp, and we hadn’t even parked. Looks like there would be no warm-up for us. I hopped out of the car, abandoning my husband with the three kids in a long line of cars waiting to park, and jogged to the registration tent. It was 7:45 AM (looks like I got my warm-up after all). I found my Aunt Maureen. I frantically called my husband. He had just pulled into a space and was getting the kids out of the car. Madelyn had just fallen in the grass and was whining in the background, “My pants are WET!” It was 7:48. We might not make this. I heard the announcer asking everyone to take their places—“The race will start in 5 minutes.” At 7:56 I saw my husband jogging with the baby (in the non-jogging stroller), a tired and sleepy Madelyn and Tyler being dragged along behind him. We had 4 minutes to find the starting line and take our positions. As usual, someone needed to use the bathroom, only this time it was my husband. I paced outside the Porta-Potty while the Rocky theme song started to play and the announcer informed us there were just 2 minutes to go. We jogged to our places (me near the 9 minute milers and my husband near the 7 minute milers) and seconds later we were off and running!
The first mile was almost entirely uphill. My lungs were screaming, my quads on fire. At the first mile marker I realized I had hardly looked around at the beautiful scenery. I started to take it all in. The clusters of trees formed canopies for us to run under and some of them were changing colors already. The water on the ponds was sparkling under the morning sun. On our path I noticed fallen leaves, empty water cups, a dead chipmunk (and for a second I wondered if one of those eager runners at the front of the pack were to blame for this fresh road kill?!) Then as usual my mind started wandering. Because physical therapy has been my occupation for the last 10 years, I began evaluating everyone’s running mechanics. The man in front of me was clearly an over-pronator and I frowned at his poor choice of running shoes. The woman to my right held her elbows at least 12 inches from the side of her body creating unnecessary wind resistance and taking at least a minute off her time. There was someone wheezing so heavily behind me I wondered if they had brought an inhaler with them or where the nearest medic was. Focus, Carr. Ah yes, the trees, the fresh air, the……..did I tell Aunt Maureen where Gabe’s diapers and bottle were???? This is how my mind works all day, every day. A constant inner dialogue. I passed mile marker 2, then 3 and had enough energy left to sprint the last 100 yards and finish strong. I re-united with my husband and we compared times, neither of us quite meeting our lofty goals and blaming the hills. But we were proud of ourselves nonetheless as we filled each other in on the run from each of our vantage points. And it hit me. Life is much like this 5K. It is a bit of a race. Some of it is a blur. There are a million distractions waiting to steal our true enjoyment of it all. We are our own worst enemies, often expecting too much of ourselves. But it’s not about the pace we set, or the place we come in, or how we measure up to everyone else. It’s about what we take time to notice along the way. Like the way Maddy crawled into Gabe’s crib this morning when he was fussing to play with him, or the way Tyler helped Maddy put her coat on before preschool, or how content my husband looked last night watching football surrounded by our 3 crazy kids. As I glance around my messy house right now, I vow to spend less time spinning my wheels about chores or laundry or cooking or work and more time to notice the things that REALLY matter in this race we call Life. Now, if you'll excuse me, I gotta run---I'm late to pick up the kids!
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