This post has very little to do with parenting.
This past weekend, I ran a 5k.
Maybe it was more of a jog. And maybe, uphill, it was the jog of an 80-year-old woman with osteoporosis, but I did it. And I kind of blame the fact that I trained all summer, and come race day, it was 35 degrees. My lungs wanted to explode. I coughed for 12 hours after because of the abuse I had put them through.
The Nerd was there with our minions cheering me on. I loved that my girls got to see me accomplish something I set my mind on a year ago. A year ago, I couldn’t do phase one of couch to 5k. And Saturday, I did a 5k. At the gym, I do 3.5 miles on the treadmill.
And next year, to celebrate our tenth anniversary, the Nerd and I are doing …
Wait for it …
I know. We heard about this, I watched the video, and it became an “I need to do that before I die” event. How fun does that look? We have 9 months to train for it.
I have been dreading turning 30. But after banging out a 5k for charity, I’m looking at it in a whole new light. Why sit around waiting for something to happen, something to change, when I can make it happen? I can’t change everything about life. I can’t make oil prices drop. I can’t make Smush just stop dumping her dinner on the ground (but oh, I’m working on it. And I will be victorious). But I can kick my own butt into shape. I can do crazy things, like zombie apocalypse training. I can embrace the fact that right now, I’m home with my kids. And that makes me insane sometimes. And people think it’s easy for me, and that I have all the time in the world, and I couldn’t possibly ever be tapped out. Because people keep asking, asking, asking because, you, know, I’m home all the time, so it must be easy for me to add just “one more thing.” And then I maybe want to hide. And cry. And go off on rants to imaginary people in internet land. Oops.
But when I hit that 3 mile mark, it was a natural high. Which, in my opinion, is the best kind, because I’ve never tried drugs and I don’t even like Tylenol with codeine. I digress.
If 30 is about not wasting life, crossing things off the bucket list, and embracing who you are and where life is bringing you, then happy birthday to me. In a few weeks. Let’s not rush things.