McDonalds Run

Time for myself, as a mom of five, is as scarce as a kid who doesn't want a happy meal. Luckily running provides me with some 'me-time'. But sometimes I feel I have to use my time running, as a time to do some parenting too.

So I invited my thirteen year old son Jan along for a run. And I decided to put his company to good use, and run along some neglected dirt tracks I normally avoid. Being a lovely woman and all.

'It's great you came along Jan,' I told him, 'because I'm a bit scared to run this way all by my lonesome.'
'Huh?' he murmured.
I didn't wanna scare him so I explained: 'I'm afraid someone is gonna steal me.'
Jan found this hilarious.
'Yeah, you can laugh now, but you wouldn't think it so funny if you had to go to the police station to tell them your mommy got stolen!' I replied haughtily.
Jan laughed so hard he almost fell off his bike.

After about thirty minutes I spotted a big yellow M, and I knew we had reached our destination. I ordered a cup of coffee for myself, and a coke for Jan, and nearly got robbed blind because they charged me for three cokes!

After we finished our drinks, I ran home in twenty minutes. I would like to brag and tell you I purposely ran a negative split, but I just took a short cut.

When we got home Jan looked at me and said in a tone of voice I can only describe as disappointed: 'You didn't even get stolen, mom.'

'No I didn't' I said, 'but mommy did almost get robbed!'

Quickly: run out and go buy this book!

I have a whole section in my bookcase dedicated to books about running. I love reading about running! It inspires me, and makes me want to put on my running shoes.

With so much already written about running, it's hard to think of something new, but Dimity McDowell and Sarah Bowen Shea certainly rose to the challenge with their book Run like a mother.

It's refreshing, inspiring, and there's actually stuff in there I hadn't thought about. For example, do you run until your 'tank is empty', or do you hold a back a little bit, so there's some energy left? I found this concept fascinating, and it really got me thinking. I'm a 'little bit left' kinda girl, by the way.

Though I'm not usually interested in talking about poop and farting I have to admit I found the info about these subjects quite interesting and practical.

Run like a mother is an absolute must have! It's like talking with some really nice friends, and it goes on where most books about running stop.

In that regard the book is just like a running mom! It just keeps going strong.

Wanna know more?

Just run on over to Run like a mother!

A bit of running inspiration

Wordless Wednesday

When the shit hits a mom

I live near the country side, and this morning I was out running, enjoying a bit of peace and quiet and admiring my surroundings. Then suddenly, I was hit by the most obnoxious smell.

I looked around, and sure enough, the farmers had taken this beautiful day of Spring to spread some shit. Now don't get me wrong, I understand a farmer has got to do what a farmer has got to do. But the smell was just nauseating, and in a desperate attempt to get away from it, I started to run faster, and faster, and faster!

And when I got home in record breaking time, I said to myself: 'Isn't it great that as a runner, you can outrun the shit?'

Natural enemies of runners

After a week of no running due to a nasty cold, I was itching to get out there again, and reclaim my runner's identity.

So I ran for three consecutive days, instead of every other day. My body spluttered and protested: 'Hey, don't I get a day of rest to recuperate?' but I said grimly: 'You've been getting quite enough rest, thank you!'

Because the kids were home from school, yet again, I was out running earlier than usual. I thought I was safe, because of the school holidays, but there they were: big groups of students riding their bike to school.

'Ah, there goes our future, yearning to enrich themselves with knowledge,' I thought tenderly the first time I came across them. But when the future nearly ran me over, fear for my life replaced tenderness.

Students like to ride their bikes together, taking up a lot of room, which would be alright if they'ld make room for charming runners, such as myself. But I guess that's not cool. And in their defense: they seem to be quite oblivious, one might even say blind, to other people using the bike path.

But yesterday there was this group of students that díd see me. I was relieved, but not for long, because they shouted lots of mean things, like: 'Who's a tomato then?' and 'Running doesn't make you any prettier, does it?'

Suddenly I felt 'being seen' is much overrated.
In future I'ld much rather stay invisible, and in danger of getting run over!

Running and the Principle of Time

For years I ran no more, nor less, than thirty minutes. I couldn't imagine running any longer. It really was all I could do, to last that half an hour. It was only when I found a training programme designed to run ten kilometers, that I started running for longer periods of time. But for shorter periods at a time!

Are you still with me? What got me past those magical thirty minutes was the knowledge I only had to run for ten minutes at a time, after which I got a break. The training programme was divided into nice, easy chunks of time, alternating running and walking. It told me when to start, and it told me when to stop.

Now, when I feel tired and want to stop running, I just take a glance at my ipod and tell myself: 'Only eight more minutes! You can go on for eight more minutes, can't you?!' And of course I yell: 'Yes I can!'

The principle of knowing when to start, and knowing when to stop, can be used to great advantage in daily life too. For instance, the principle is put to great use by Flylady. She tells you to set your timer for fifteen minutes: as soon as the thing starts ticking, you start cleaning one particular room. But as soon as the timer goes off, you stop! Right there and then. You're done!

Running has given me a different sense of time. By dividing it into little chunks it becomes much easier to do things.

So when hubby gets frisky I just tell myself: 'It's only fifteen minutes or so. Surely you can take 15 minutes for the greater good of your marriage?'
And then I do.