I had just put the kids down for a nap and started putting away the clean (wrinkled) laundry that was piled up on my bed. This had become my daily ritual. I desperately wash, clean, and put away everything that I possibly can during the one sacred hour I have to myself. Our house functions better when mommy isn’t occupied with house chores while the kids are awake. So I squeeze it all into the quiet space during naptime.
As I frantically hung up the shirts in the closet I noticed my running shoes resting on the shelf. Their edges still with that fresh out of the box look. I paused for a moment recognizing the fact that my shoes no longer carried the red stain from the track.
Running had forever been my identity. The outlet I turned to when I was overwhelmed. Fresh air and a pair of good running shoes always seemed to breath new life into my soul when the woes of the world were knocking down my door.
When the babies were born finding time to lace up my shoes suddenly became a chore. There was always someone or something that needed my attention more than my running shoes. They were placed on the shelf.
[bctt tweet=”There was always someone or something that needed more attention… #momlife @MamacupcakeKane”]
Today I stood in my closet wondering why I was doing laundry. It was 80° and sunny. The babies were sleeping and my husband was home. This pile of laundry can wait.
I threw on a couple sports bras, grabbed my headphones and quietly snuck out the door stopping only to see my husband’s thumbs up.
The exhausted heavy breathing shaky leg feeling I used to get stepping off the track showed up before I even made it to the starting line.
It has been a good ten years since I’ve leaned slightly to the left as I sprinted down lane one, but the wind blew in that same familiar smell as I took off for my first two hundred meters.
The shirtless football players throwing the ball around on the practice field stopped to stare just as they did years ago. It was as if nothing had changed.
But so much has changed. My sprint looked like a jog at best and things jiggled in places I didn’t even know could jiggle. The football boys that were staring… weren’t admiring the toned body of a twenty-year-old track athlete. They were contemplating whether or not to help the old woman that was having difficulty breathing.
I didn’t care. It felt amazing to be back doing what I love. Yes, I looked as though I were dying and I did stop timing myself because my watch couldn’t possibly be working correctly. But none of that mattered. I was out there getting some fresh air and filling the “me” tank up that had been empty for way too long.
After stumbling home to a cool shower I found myself in a much better “Mommy Place” for the rest of the day. Why had I not allowed myself “me” time before? Everyone that mattered in my life benefited from it and all the housework could simply wait.
Make some time to do something you love every day. No matter what it might be. You don’t have to lose yourself when you gain these beautiful little monsters we call kids 😉