I was happily running along, thinking to myself: 'I'm doing quite well!' when it happened again. A fellow runner ran right passed me. Now had this fellow runner been a man I would have shrugged it off, but this fellow runner was a woman! A woman about my age, her blond hair bouncing along in a pony tail. I shouldn't be passed by someone my own age and sex! It just isn't right!
Even though I know I shouldn't compare myself to other runners, and other mothers, it's hard not to. There I will be, doing quite wel, and then I'll see someone who seems to do it all much better than me.
I'm not like Shakespeare who compares his love to the a blissful summer's day, only to conclude it doesn't do her justice!
It's a hard lesson for me to learn. To nót compare myself to a summer's day, or other runners or other mothers.
I have to tell myself, I don't have to measure up to anything.
I'm fine just measuring about.