There is something inherently selfish about running.
It really serves no purpose to mankind. At least not overtly.
I still haven’t gotten back into the running groove like I had intended. There are reasons, so, so many reasons. It’s cold. It gets dark early. I’m tired. I keep blaming my deceased mother. She lived with us for the past 3 years, passing abruptly in July. Being her only child, she really doted on our children, her only grandchildren. Anytime I wanted to go for a run, I could. She encouraged it. She watched the kids. I never had to worry.
And then she up and died on me and I can not for the life of me get my bearings. I’m still feeling lost.
The 40 minute drive to and from work is almost more than I can bear. I don’t have any time. I’m always rushing. Rushing home to take the kids to ball practice, get their dinners ready, their book bags packed for the next day, get the laundry done, keep the dishes from overflowing the sink. I’m not alone in this, my husband is right there with me struggling, too.
Today I had my running bag packed, the headphones and Garmin watch all charged up. I had a half day in the clinic. I’d change into my running shoes and dorky compression socks after work and go for a quick run before I had to pick the kids up from school at 2:45. I was almost to work when I got the call, your son is puking. You gotta come pick him up now.
Before, I would have called my mom, can you please pick him up? Sure, honey, no problem. Don’t worry. I would have finished my clinic and had my run before coming home.
Of course, all of this is incredibly selfish. And incredibly hard. My work has certain expectations. The patients, the corporation. I should be available, dependable. I had to cancel my clinic today, letting people down, diminishing my productivity. It makes me feel a little guilty. My son needed me. I can’t let him down. He’s just a boy and he’s sick, would anyone other than one’s own momma suffice in that moment? I want to be there for him. I haven’t been running, my little belly is pudging out and I just feel a little icky in my own skin. I’m letting myself down, too.
Everything that we do requires putting something else on the back burner. My children. My work. My duty to provide clean underwear for my family. In order to run, something else has to give. And right now, I’m not sure it’s worth it. I don’t want to sacrifice anyone for my own well-being.
In the end, running may not serve any purpose for mankind. But for this woman to remain kind, I know I’ve got to find the time for myself. I need to figure out a way to get back to what gives me a sense of peace. I really need to go for a run.