The baby woke up at 4:45 this morning to eat, 45 minutes later than normal. I walked back into my bedroom around 5. I looked at my bed, which had started with just my husband and I last night, but somewhere in the middle of the night had gained two extra little people, who were now snuggled down in the covers, breathing deeply, sound asleep. I thought about my options. To get back into bed would now require climbing over a little person and holding my breath to be sure not to wake either child up, who were both conveniently nestled on MY (not dads) pillow. It looked inviting but I was feeling fairly awake and the consequences of waking children up at 5 am did not appeal to me.
I tiptoed to the bathroom and flipped on the lightswitch. I fumbled around and got into my running clothes. I skipped down the steps, two at a time, feeling suddenly energized at the thought of my first 5 am run since February. I laced up my shoes, strapped on my watch, phone and pepper spray (see below) and headed down the driveway. I looked up and down my street and saw....the paper lady. Aaaaaaaah, the paper lady! I had almost forgotten about her. The one who had accompanied me on many early morning runs before. The one who had almost run over me one morning. The one that had tormented my neighbor by shining her headlights into her sleeping baby's room and woken him up every morning at...yep...5 am. There was something comforting in the thought that the paper lady was still here all this time, even during the months that I was asleep in my bed, pregnant and exhausted. And now here she was and I was back on the street. It was amost as if nothing had changed, with the exception of a sweet 12 pound baby laying asleep in his crib and a not-so-sweet extra 30 pounds laying on my body.
And then, I remembered, something else had changed.
I had no one to meet. This was my first solo 5 am run in a very, very long time. In the spring of 2010, I had found 4 other gals who were crazy enough to run with me at 5 am 2 - 3 mornings a week. We would stretch across the entire road, talking about things that aren't discussed with anyone other than a running companion, challenging each other with each step, complaining together when times were tough, admiring the moon and wondering what time our children would wake up. But, now, one friend had moved to Minnesota, two were pregnant and one was gearing up for the NYC marathon and was going to start her 20-miler after her kids were in school. I was all alone. And let me tell you something, 5 am runs are ALWAYS better with friends.
A little deflated, but still happy to be out there, I started off down the street and plugged up my ear buds. The music seemed too loud. I turned it down as far as it would go and looked around for signs of life. Nada. Houses weren't even lit up yet. Then, suddenly, I heard a noise. I yanked my ear buds out and looked behind me, paranoid. Nothing. I cautiously put one ear bud in my ear to listen to tunes and left the other ear free to listen to the sounds of potential attackers.
I arrived at the park, which during the daylight, is a sunny, happy place. But, at dark, it is the perfect place for someone to be abducted. I started sprinting down the road, huffing and puffing and checking my pepper spray. I bought this pepper spray at the running store in preparation of potential solo dark runs and it has the convenient feature of attaching to your arm with velcro. I frown at it, now wondering how exactly, in an attack by either a rabid animal or scary human, I will coherently be able to yank the spray off with my other hand, flip the switch on and spray someone fast enough to make a difference. Hmmmmm. I run even faster. By the time I round the next corner, I feel a little safer, if not exhausted by these "safety sprints". Houses and street lights appear again. And so does a steep hill. The Meredith Mountain, I like to call it. At this point, I'm "running" so slow up the hill, I may as well be walking. I remind myself of a conversation I had with my 5-yo just the other day about hills during a bike ride. He was huffing and puffing up a steep hill and said that he liked the flat parts much better. I told him that yes, the hills are hard, but they are good at making you stronger. I start humming Kanye's lyrics over the sound of country tunes in my ear, thankful now that no one is around to listen (although my friends are so cool, they would have totally sang with me). I made it up the hill and finished up another easy mile before arriving back at my house.
I went inside and grabbed some water and started getting ready for the morning, My 5-yo padded in, blinking against the light, his blonde hair messy from sleep and he asked me what I was doing up. "A morning run!" I told him. He nodded, as if this answer was not a surprise. He picked up a Magic Treehouse Book from the library and asked me to read with him. I left the dishes in the sink and the two of us snuggled on the couch and entered the world of Jack and Annie. And the sun wasn't even up yet.
I'm going to pretend that a 30-minute sock drama (I kid you not) did not happen a few minutes later. Let's leave it as a perfect morning, except for the fact that pepper spray is a sorry replacement for my running gals.
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