Run vs. Running

  Run vs. running...this is the dilemma of many parents.

  But Susan, you may be thinking, how many types of running are there?  Oh ho...now that is a question from a novice to life with children.


Of course I would like to RUN (though truth be told I'm more like a snail even when I speed walk) and yet I find myself RUNNING my busy tribe of teens (4 in the house now), and younger children to lacrosse practice- 4 of these players in the house now as well, friends houses, the Mall, and wherever else as the need arises.  This in addition to mobilizing our large crew en masse to and from Mass, family get togethers, school concerts, etc.  Truth is, we use two different vehicles to mobilize us when we all need to go somewhere together.  Steve, my husband, drives an F-150 truck that seats 6 and I currently drive a Ford 500 that fits 5.  Together we can even fit a few friends, which is often the case.

  It seems the last couple weeks have been full of commuting since Steve's parents fell ill and needed hospital care (prayers appreciated) and my Mom had her second knee replacement which created the opposite effect and immobilized her for several weeks.  Other excitement took us to the hospital for the birth of a new nephew: "Welcome Maverick!" and of course there's the day to day driving to and from school.

I've noticed a road weary expression on my husband's face as he removes his jacket after a long day at work followed by "running" the kids to practice and meeting the needs of his parents.  He never says it but I see something ever so slight cross his face when a call is received from his parents, Bushia and Dzia Dzia, which means Grandma and Grandpa in Polish.  These calls often require him to don his jacket and grab his keys- I think that "something" is a remembrance of all the running they did back in the day.  He and his three brothers all played baseball, sometimes on different fields, while their Dad coached.

  I hope my children pick up on that subtle acceptance from their father.  If my life is an indicator of how fast time moves, then the days of running will soon be upon them.  As a matter of fact, right now as I write this, Steve is currently wearing his chauffeur's cap as he drives our 16 year-old to his driver's exam.  God bless my husband- he even took a half days' work to be able to do this running...and when that's done we have to head to Buffalo for a lacrosse game.


Whew! Which do you find more exhausting...Run or Running?

Pushing Through

 

  Overcoming obstacles is largely a mindset.

  The other night brought howling winds.  I hadn't gotten my walk in that day and I was determined to keep the schedule I had going.  Add to that, the text from my accountability partner telling me to get out in that stinkin weather.  She had run seven miles facing 50 mph winds.  How could I not walk my two measly miles?

  Dusk was due pretty soon after the motivating text came in so I needed to move it.  I sought the child most susceptible to pitying their mother walking alone in inclement weather.  Thank you dear sixth grade son:)  By the time we got to the Peninsula the winds were whipping the waves into a choppy soup threatening to splash if we got too near.  It was necessary to divert my son's growing apprehension in facing the creaking, thrashing limbs of trees lining the path. I tried to talk him into looking horizontally instead of vertically at the overhanging frenzied branches.

 Not even half way to our turn around mark, my son was reaching high-anxiety levels, complete with screaming over the wind, pleading, glistening eyes squeezed in fright, and hands locked over his ears.  "C'mon, we're almost there!," came my return plea.  "I want to go home!  Don't you hear how dangerous this is?," he shouted right before a branch landed behind us with a loud CRACK!  For the first time since I began walking this summer I began to add interval sprints.  "Hey", I panted during the recovery phase, "courage doesn't mean you're not afraid.  It means you feel the fear but do it anyway."  I don't know what reserve of strength kept my son moving forward in the darkening night as the wind screamed, branches yelled menacing threats, and dried leaves accompanied the desolation with their scratchy skittering for cover across the paved paths.  Our backdrop of the rolling water leapt into 3-D focus with intermittent sprays adding to the surreal evening that seemed to intensify in danger the further we went.  We continued on at a quickened pace while I yelled to myself as much as to my frightened boy, "Don't miss the beauty!"  Though justified in our wary state, it would have been a shame to miss the crescent moon taking center stage in the stormy sky.

  We did it!  We made it to the half way mark...now to get back.

  We were face to face with an onslaught of the wind's full force pushing back against our efforts.  My son's arms were aching from his effort to hold them against his ears the entire way.  He resisted my earmuffs and gave me a scathing look at the offer of my fluorescent pink scarf.  My legs were feeling the burn from unfamiliar exertion.  Our clothes billowed out as we held onto one another during the frequent burst of upscaled gales.  Anxious to be out of harms way, my son said, "C'mon Mom, let's run through this next part!"  I knew he wanted to quickly get through the tunnel of trees lining both sides of the next hundred yards.  We had already been stepping over downed limbs.  I felt the leaden weight in my legs and knew I had reached exhaustion..."I can't.  I just don't think I can do it."  Clearly, I had made an error of judgement in pressing on- but we had no choice but to get ourselves back to the car.  We had three quarter mile to trod and we would have to fight for every step.

  That was the moment I realized how brazenly I had encouraged my son about courage as I kept on in the face of his keen terror.  He had kept going...I figured he'd be proud of himself for overcoming his fear.  I hadn't  the extreme mental mountains he was climbing to get over that hurdle.  I truly believed we'd be fine- I had walked this trail in a downpour before though my son had not.  My son is a lean and lanky, natural runner...though I am not.  I looked at the path ahead and made the decision to push my legs and lungs hard!  If I could ask my son to keep going, in what appeared to be a death-defying situation from his perspective, then I better darn well give his request the same respect and push through my perspective which insisted I simply could not.

  I gained insight as we rounded the bend to the safe comfort of our car.  It's easy to ask others to keep going in the face of their struggle when we know the outcome.  It's easier yet if they are our children and we have authority that can demand it.  It would be very good for our appreciation of what we are asking of them if we but walk, or run, in their shoes every now and then.