Mommy Finished

This past weekend was significant in Scroogyland, not just because it was Mother’s Day, but also because my daughters saw me cross the finish line of my first 5K.

It brings tears to my eyes to think of it, Peeps.

Me, Scroogy- far from athletic- finished a run.  (Well, more of a walk/jog- heavy on the walk, but still…)

Lala and Loopsy waited for me, with their grandparents and their Daddy, at the finish of Saturday’s Color Run here in Baltimore.

They witnessed their Mom -television addict, usually found reading novel after novel on the couch or spending hours on the computer writing or playing Candy Crush- finish something she’d set out to do last summer.  Mommy got ready for, and ultimately finished, a 5K.

Without having a heart attack or passing out or spraining anything.

I’ll never forget how proud I felt when I saw them and heard them calling for me as I jogged under the inflatable Finish arch, covered in layers of colored dust, sweaty, and a little red in the face. 

Girls, if you read this one day, this is what I want you to remember:

Don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t or that you shouldn’t.  Not even yourselves.

Don’t let people judge you for your size or your looks or your past.  Not even that voice in your head.

If you work hard, if you stick to anything, you can finish what you start.  You can do or be anything.  You can beat any odds, meet any goals you set for yourself.

I love you girls.  This 5K was for you.

The next one is for me.

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Growing old gratefully (and gracefully)

Many thoughts rambling through my noggin today about aging.  I hope I don’t bungle this blog post.  Feeling a cold or something coming on.  So foggy, you guys…  Apologies in advance.

My high school/college friends on FB are all turning 39 in quick succession.  Yes, it’s true…  We, as the class of 92, are on the brink of 40-dom. 

Within the next 12 months, we will officially be too old to be a character on that show Thirty-something.  Do you guys remember that show?  They were always so dreary and depressed or drunk.  So old and boring.  Could it be that we are older and more boring?

Shut yo’ mouf!

We are taking up new hobbies- running, roller derby, painting, belly dancing… 

We have regular exposure to the newest music, the latest trends, new ideas and themes all through the magic of social media.

We can access the latest breakthroughs in wrinkle erasers, hair dye, teeth whiteners, and 24 hr gym memberships.

40 is the new 30.  I do believe it.  Stop laughing.  It’s true.

I begin to feel like this “getting older” gig ain’t so bad after all, Peeps.

Then, I see this AOL article about a grandma in the Guinness Book of World Records for having the tiniest (surgically altered) waistline.  She looks like Jessica Rabbit, but with wrinkles.  I don’t know why she was so concerned with her mid-section, but didn’t go for botox or a face lift.  I don’t get plastic surgery at all, though.  Whatevs.

It made me confused.  I felt sad for her.  And worried. 

I was beginning to think this next decade would be a peaceful easing into finally accepting ourselves the way we are.  At last, we could be comfortable with our bodies.  I mean, we’re 40 something…  Shouldn’t we know by know that it’s our souls that matter?  Shouldn’t that poor tiny waisted lady have known that way before now?

I dunno, you guys.  I’m not saying we should all let ourselves go.  Not by any means! But shouldn’t we be more focused on feeling good, being confident and accentuating the positive?  Aren’t there more important things in life than our belt size?  Am I being hypocritical by endorsing going to the gym and whitening our teeth but looking down my nose at radical plastic surgery?

Growing old, as they say, is a privilege denied to many.  We should grasp these middle aged days with both hands and squeeeeeeeeze all the goodness out. 

So, if goodness to you is looking like Jessica Rabbit with wrinkles, then, I guess, more power to you.  As weirded out as it makes me.  😉

You’re doing good Mommy! Keep up! Keep up!

I bit the bullet and did two things in the past two weeks that I always wanted to do, but never had the balls.

One was to get a tattoo.  More on that later, Peeps.

The other was to register for a 5K.

Eek.

Yes, me.  Scroogy.  ME.

I am going to run/jog/walk/crawl/roll 5 kilometers.

I will.  I swear.  Stop laughing, you guys…

I started training a couple of weeks ago with the advice of my friend Aims who is a more accomplished 5k-er. She’s started me out super slow, just walking 15 to 20 mins a few times a week.  I’ve been waking up with Hubby and walking before the twins wake up.

This morning, my bed was just too lovely to leave.  I had to stay up and watch the Oscars after all.  So, I debated going after Hubs got home this evening, or doing something radical and including my daughters in my training.

It’s a lovely winter day here in Bmore.  High 40s and sunny.  No wind.  Delightful.  So I asked dear Lala and Loopsy if they wanted to walk with me.

“To the playground, Mommy?”  Lala asked.

“Not this time.  Remember when I told you I am going to run a special race?”

“Will there be a finish line?”  Loopsy pondered.

“Yes there will!  I am walking today to get stronger and healthier so I can run to the finish line.  Will you help me?”

“Yes!  Yes!”  They bounced up and down.

I explained that I needed to walk as fast as I could without stopping.  So, we couldn’t check out any leaves or branches or dead bugs. They totally got it.  Really, they did…

Loopsy, especially, was an incredible motivator.  She jogged ahead of me, encouraging me to go faster and faster, warning me of cracks and bumps and sticks, telling me I was doing great.  Lala was wonderful too.  She mostly stayed by my side, occasionally reminding me to breathe.  haha.

The only part of the walk they faltered in their enthusiasm was the brutal up-hill portion at the very end.  Both slowed down, both wanted to stop.  But they soldiered on.

When we got back home, Lala even did my outside stretches with me and both girls did my stretches inside on the living room rug.

They even said it was fun.

Who knew?

I am so proud of them, and so glad for the opportunity to teach good fitness habits to my little ones.

I give myself a good star for the day.

Oh, and here’s my tattoo…

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