if there is one thing about motherhood, it really teaches you to modify your expectations. there are simply too many variables to raise young children according to any plan, or schedule, and you learn pretty quickly that you cannot guarantee outcomes such as a predictable life routine, no matter what order you try to maintain. i suppose you could try, but i’ve witnessed those that do and they look unhappy and it all sounds crazy making. frankly, i have enough challenging my sanity. right? seriously.
for me, accepting and adopting a responsive and malleable life outlook was a healthy departure from my former approach- overbooked, hyper scheduled, and stupidly rigid. learning to parent with ease took some adjustments but i kinda got there, and now we live pretty close to the moment and keep to a rhythm that is realistic, while still being motivated by a healthy vision for the future, of course.
motherhood hasn’t always helped me relax my expectations of myself and coming to terms with my own limitations is a journey that continues. like my irrational commitment to running, for instance.
the thing is, when i run i feel transformed. i feel like everything i want in myself is coming to fruition, with each step. i feel powerful, and fluid, and even beautiful. i feel energized, and renewed, and happy. and when i’m done, i feel calm. people with brains like mine are well suited for running.
my body isn’t always sure that it’s a good idea, however, and sometimes, my body is even right. like perhaps i shouldn’t have started training for a half marathon a couple months after our second baby entered the family. it did me so much good though, undeniably, and despite the physical discomfort it was worth it; helped me regulate all other forms of strife.
upon reflection, it really should not have come as any surprise that the shadows of postpartum depression that i’d (barely) been keeping in check took over when i was forced to stop running because of injury. without that pulse, the endorphin rush, and the psychic escape that running provided, the heavy stuff made itself known for a bit.
i fought back, won in the end, and even thought that i was recovered in full. i probably was but it wasn’t until a couple of weeks ago when i started running again that i felt all parts of me come together and fall in to place in a way that only occurs for me when i’m in motion.
i’m not training for a half. not even a 10. i’m re-working goals i previously had for distance or speed and i’m going for simple and manageable, instead. if i can attain 5kms safely and injury free then that will be my success.
like my practice of motherhood, i am learning that i have to be flexible and start where things are at. i have to re-define priorities so that they’re a realistic fit in this context. and, you know, it’s enough to be out there.