Not Another Running Metaphor

I often find myself thinking about what I would have been doing before the babies came along at different points in the day. For instance, the babies need an activity from 4:00-6:00, so last Friday we went for a walk in the neighborhood and I thought about how in my old life I would have been getting a manicure, making plans for the evening and weekend. I am wistful at times, but then a feeling of balance comes along. I feel like I lived a few lifetimes before these babies came along and I miss parts of the other lives, but overall, I feel like they lend a point of view that I am grateful to have.

I can view things through different lenses while simultaneously wearing my old glasses. Recently, I joined a mom’s fitness program. (Apparently my need for organized activity has not dissipated along with my neat fingers and toes.) We meet in the park and run, jog, or walk a course and pause at points to strength train. It’s fun and helps me to be social with local moms, hang with the babies, etc.. So today, as we were jogging the path, a lone female jogger was coming toward our group of 10 women, each pushing a single or double stroller. As the woman approached she scowled, “At least form a single file.” Her anger was clear and her tone audible enough for at least five of us to hear her. I got the feeling that her complaint was a repeated one. When we paused, the moms began talking. “I bet that’s her, the one who complained.” Apparently, the stroller fitness club had a complaint filed against them with the park ranger, (a yogi bear like figure comes to mind, with a little green hat fastened under his chin) for forcing joggers off of the path. Now most of the moms push the very trendy and cool BOB stroller, which allows for a lot steering flexibility so that you can get out of the way for serious runners. However, BOB stands for “Beast of Burden.” Perhaps a group of women, clearly plump from pregnancy, pushing strollers named after a Rolling Stones song, down a shady path, is fairly menacing. But, as the stroller fit moms speculated about the identity of the plaintiff, I put on my old glasses and saw us from that jogger’s point of view. Although I never had the opportunity to run this well landscaped path on a random, beautiful, Wednesday morning, I could see how we looked. I probably would have been annoyed, having to break my stride to allow a group of galloping gals and their kavetching kids to get out of my way. The source of my annoyance would have probably come from a place other than a need to keep a 10-minute mile. I hoped that the jogger was not familiar with that place too.
Nori and Charlie, however, were oblivious to the runner’s rant and the speculation that followed. Instead, they cried while I tried to work my new mommy middle. I think they just wanted to come home and play. I try to see things from their point of view too.