Dream On

I've always been a dreamer in an odd sort of way.  I have the tendency to envision future experiences in a completely fantastic way.

Here's one example:  Last year, I was pregnant, working full-time and taking care of Will in the evenings.  The house was usually a mess and I was always exhausted.  In the afternoons, while stuck in traffic, I would imagine my future life as a stay-at-home mom.  I would be happy, healthy and well rested.  Without the daily work and stress involved with balancing toddler and teaching, I would be eating and sleeping better.  So what if our income was cut in half?  I would just tutor and we would stick to a budget.  The house would be immaculate and I would have time to cook incredible meals.  I would never loose my patience with Will or get in absurd arguments with Bill, because life would be so much more calm and reasonable.  I'd have time to touch up the paint on the trim and choose a window treatment for the mud room.  I'd have lots of playdates for Will and make lots of "mommy" friends.  I could get back to reading and playing piano, maybe even take up knitting.  

Don't get me wrong.  I love being home this year.  The reality is good.  Just not THAT good.

Liam has been sleeping better for the past week or so and I had promised myself that when I started getting more sleep I would begin to exercise. When Will was a baby, I never thought about exercise in a conventional sort of way. I would just pop him in the stroller and walk, walk, walk-- morning, noon and night-- miles and miles and miles. Seriously. All that walking, combined with watching what I ate, allowed me to lose about 30 pounds in about 5 months. Not exactly an overnight transformation, but well worth the effort. I loved, loved, loved the way I looked and felt-- which is a pretty huge deal. Unfortunately, due to a fun-lovin', stroller-hatin' 3-year-old, we can't do the walking regimen this time around.  Instead, I've decided to start running again.  If I can squeeze 30 minutes or so out of every day while Bill watches the kids, I think the results will be there.

So, before I continue, here's a quick review of my history with running.  In high school, I was one of the kids who opted to "walk" the track rather than actually run or play a sport.  (I also ate brownies between classes and ate french fries for lunch-- but those are sad facts for another post.)  In college, I started getting more interested in being fit and healthy.  I amazed myself by running a whole mile, then two, then three.  Then I met Bill and we watched movies and ate Pilsbury every night.  (Sigh)  Then we got engaged and I was on a mission to lose weight for the wedding...  Back to running and working my way up to being faster and running further.  After the wedding, I continued to work out, but with a little less intensity... okay, a lot less intensity.  Then I got pregnant.  So with the exception of running after Will, I basically haven't run anywhere since 2004... okay maybe 2003.

This brings me to my latest fantasy:  the running fantasy.  I always picture myself running.  It's a beautiful sunny day and the scenery is perfect.  I'm wearing a great outfit... trendy, comfortable and flattering.  My iPod is loaded with the best 'running' music.  I'm graceful, with long strides and perfect posture.  My 'running partner' is at my side... we're the best of friends who always have time to meet up for a run.  I have the time and patience to stretch properly and monitor my heart rate.  I'm sweating, but not in a gross way... in that healthy glowy sort of way.  So that's my idealistic self-portrait as a runner... complete with fake photo at left.

In reality, I went running for the first time today.  By the time I could escape from the house, it was dark out.  I had a 1-hour window to drive to the reservoir, run and drive back.  The reservoir was well-lighted, but with the exception of the maintenance crew, it was deserted.  I stepped out of the car and it was colder than I had expected.  I headed up to the path, checked my watch and started to run.  As I started running, I noticed two things... 1) My sweatpants were too big...'falling down' too big... and 2) I forgot to put on a sports bra.  (That so sucked.)  I made it through the first mile, but only in a jog... the kind of jog that you see elderly people do... you know, where your feet barely leave the ground... kind of like a shuffle hop... bottom line, not pretty.  Before long, I'm bored.  No Ipod... haven't used it in ages and it wasn't charged.  Then, I'm winded and I slow to a walk.  It's windy and my hands and lips are cold.  Another woman approaches me, running.  I nod and smile, but she's too caught up in her run to notice.  I start running again.  I can feel my ass oscillating... depressing, but good motivation to keep running.  Nothing hurts, but the breathing is difficult.  I manage to get through 2.5 miles before heading home to relieve Bill for hockey practice.

Next time I'll bring the iPod, wear the sports bra and switch the sweatpants.  Next time I'll run a little farther, a little faster and a little prettier.  Maybe I'll even find that running partner.  I never actually think that the fantasy will be the reality, but it's fun to dream, I suppose.