There are lots of different kinds of gifts. First, there are those that we give ourselves and those that we give to/receive from others. Some come with big bows and colorful wrapping paper while others aren't quite as obvious. Some are expected and some are a big surprise. From the girl who cried at 4 because Santa forgot to wrap his presents, I'm a fan of the surprise gifts. And as I get older, I'm discovering that the less obvious ones usually mean the most.
I woke up Sunday morning ready to run with Fran. It was cold, giving me cause for panic. The running tights that I had not worn since March sat crumpled in my drawer. Hopefully, pregnancy had stretched them out like it had my body and they would fit. No such luck. They had snapped back into their original size but my body had not. I squeezed into them as well as a long sleeve XS running shirt and apologized to my running partner for the unattractive fit of my clothes. When they didn't fit back in March, it was cute because I was pregnant. And now? Well, let's just say that it was the opposite of cute.
Despite this wardrobe deficiency, my legs felt strong and the weather was brisk and perfect for a morning run. Fran had run 20 miles on Saturday so she was already my hero for going back out on Sunday. She had 4 miles to run and I decided that if she could do it on 20 mile legs, I certainly could log 4 miles on rested legs. This would be my furthest post-pregnancy run yet.
We ran a route I call "old faithful". It was the base route that we used to use on most early morning weekday runs. Some days, we'd add on to it. Some days, we'd stick to the base. Sunday, we stuck to the base. We went at a nice and comfortable pace. We talked for the first 2 miles. And THEN, we actually continued to communicate for the next 2 miles. Lately, after about a mile and a half, I have had to gasp out "no comment" due to lack of lung capacity and although my running mates can still speak, I have a hard time hearing them over my loud panting and thunderous heart beat. When we finished the run, I didn't feel beat down. I felt completely invigorated and empowered after completing my longest post-pregnancy run yet without feeling like death when it was over. I felt like my old self. I came inside to the smell of pancakes and bacon. Even though 4 miles wasn't quite the long runs I was logging a year ago, it still made me feel even more like my old self - an unexpected gift. And feeling like one's old self is just about the best gift a girl could ask for after 9 long months of pregnancy doing things to your body that no one ever tells you about....for the 4th time. And let me just tell you that the things get weirder with every pregnancy.
Later that afternoon, my 5-yo was drawing while I unloaded the dishwasher. When I asked him what he was drawing, he responded that it was him and me and we were running together. He smiled proudly up at me as I commended his drawing. My heart skipped a little - and not because I was running this time. He recognized running as one of my passions and the fact that he would draw a picture of us both participating in this passion together was an even better gift than feeling like my old self. If he loves running one day, I already relish every future mile we may log together. If he doesn't love it, I don't care. I just hope that he and all my children find something that they are passionate about and will give those passions 110%, even at times when they aren't "easy". I'll remember that on my next run that isn't easy (which I can actually say that I have already had-today) because if he recognizes my passion then I sure don't want him to see me ever give up. Because what kind of gift would that be?
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