Why I Run: A time to let everything else fall away

On a crystalline February afternoon, I'm out for a "walk" with my friend, Kama, a long-time runner, just after her fourth c-section in five years. She's not supposed to run yet.  But we trot the downhills and jog the flats, because she just can't not run. Every few steps she hikes up her too big maternity jeans.

I was never a runner.  Over the twelve years of our friendship, whenever we headed out to walk, she'd say, "Are you sure you don't want to run?" or, "don't you just want to run?"  or, "I think you're a runner, and you just don't know it yet."

She was right. With all kids but one in school, my friend Angela suggested we put my youngest in the jog stroller and run. Challenged at a serendipitous point, I started running just to see if I maybe really could do it.  I discovered I could more than do it.  I devoured it!

Angela and I have now logged hundreds of miles. Every run provides a "we need to run about that" opportunity for life discussion and analysis. The most recurrent theme – the balance between motherhood and self.

We – mothers collectively – are better mothers when we exercise.  Less stressed, more energetic, and providing a vital example to our kids about prioritizing our health.  That's the science. Often though, running means relinquishing limited family time as we head out.  Or it means taking children with us, continually managing their comfort, then analyzing whether the toddler tantrums and bribe sugar neutralize any benefit we reap running that one more mile.

The running itself is the perfect conduit for this ongoing conversation. I think running and motherhood are fundamentally aligned.  Runners and mothers both should feel triumphant on successful days, but not too defeated by missteps.  Actual marathons and the motherhood marathon are both so long, and it's impossible to see the end results until you've put in the work.  I've trained for and run a half marathon, and I am mom to three children.  Both processes have pushed me to my physical limits.  Motherhood engendered a new respect for the capabilities of my mind and body. Running thirteen miles two years after I hadn't been a runner did the same.

Which brings me back to running in maternity jeans. As Kama and I started out she said, "If you want to run, I totally understand."

She starts to jog.  "I just have to run a little," she says. "It's downhill, right?"

So, we jog, we walk, we jog, we laugh – at her jeans, continually slipping below the horizon of her remaining baby belly.   This beautiful afternoon with my friend counts as a run, no question.  Kama, determined to pick up the pace, is a testament to what a balm running is for all that life presses down on the mother and the runner.  In the rhythm of running we find that place to just breathe and be ourselves, and let everything else fall away.

Elizabeth Dougherty is a freelance writer (and runner) from Downingtown.  You can read more of her work on planQ at whatis40.wordpress.com. 

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