Let’s Get Physical
Three is my magic number. I have had the ultimate pleasure of carrying to term, three little lovely inhabitants inside of me. When I was pregnant with my oldest son, I had no idea what it meant to take care of my body while carrying said precious cargo unless it involved Don’s Drive In or McDonald fish fillet with cheese sandwiches and extra crispy fries. Of course I followed just about every single book there is for the rookie mother to be and I made sure to go along with all of my doctor’s advice. But the day that I waddled into the infamous floral wallpapered rooms of the hospital in July, the scales tipped all the way over to 199 pounds. This would have been much more comfortable if I wasn’t five foot one, with shoes on. Needless to say I gladly accepted my precious reward and went home realizing what the ultimate goal was; maybe a few less fries since they may cause gas for the baby while nursing. I went about my way and chased around a two year old while pregnant again for the second time and proceeded to glow just a little bit more and eat a little bit less. Unless it was some sort of matter in the form of a paper cup with a spoon handed over to me by the sweet kiddos at Moomers. Give a girl a break right? Pregnancy can be so evil sometimes. It wasn’t until I sat on the sidewalk while doing my part in devouring some kind of greasy something while watching athletic bodies flawlessly run past me (during the Cherry Festival of races) did I realize it may be ok for me attempt to exercise just a little more. The next day I ordered a double jogger on EBay and my quest was on. Who would have known that an old pair of gym shoes from high school gym class and a smidge of hope to lessen the jiggle that jiggled would catapult me into a whole new atmosphere? My sweet little passengers gladly participated in my daily jogs knowing that when the “bus” was moving there was no talking. We made our way up the ladder in progress; all team players partaking in the hidden benefits of mom being able to burn a few calories. The three of us crossing the finish line to a handful of 5k’s together with high five’s all around. This routine closely followed news that I was pregnant for the third time with another tenant. As long as I was on this track, why not keep moving? So move I did. I remained the pusher of two and carrier of one.( Isn’t there some sort of hidden motto that mothers carry all, one handed, backwards, on one foot?) The “olders” gladly started to gain a little more self confidence and hopped out of the jogger a few times to learn their own pace. Turning back to wave and give the mom thumbs up. All the while Mom and lucky #3 logging over 300 miles together and finishing six 5k’s. Needless to say by the time I made my way through the hallowed halls to the floral printed walls again on a very cold December morning, just 4 short years after my first arrival, I was in rare fighting form and ready to hammer out what needed to be done so I could bundle up my little running buddy and take him home.
After experiencing the full gratification running has brought me, I realize how strangely important it is for me to continue. Especially when my 4 and 6 year olds ask for “running” clothes for their birthdays and proudly and neatly designate certain drawers for such proud treasures. More importantly when said 4 and 6 year olds ask permission to take their “long runs” on Sunday mornings to, “Get it out of the way so they can enjoy their Sunday.” All three of them understand that mom is happiest when she gets to get out and move around. And as the saying goes, “When Mom’s happy, everyone’s happy!” Be it with them or not, I feel calmer and focused on tasks that inhabit my daily to do when I can exercise this very strong body of mine. They are seeing their mom take a breather and a break from all of the tasks that need my attention and get out and move. An athlete I am not, an example I will be. How vital to communicate that something so physical can bring such precious importance, and how critical to show that even though the adults that run the game of life have such detailed schedules there is always room on the agenda for a little amount of time to get your sweat on! How much fun for me to see them proudly race through this race they get to race. If only I could keep them in the jogger forever.
Cassy Stone is a habitual overachiever, rehabilitating running addict, Harley chick wanna be, sky diving loving, blog writing fool, devoted John Mayer following, espresso drinking, tattoo wearing, cupcake baking, bigmama in love with 3 of the finest little chicks on her farm, adorer of the other devoted team owner with whom told her at 17 he would follow her anywhere. You can follow her at www.stonepartyoffive.blogspot.com.
