Mother's Marathoning Guilt

Six years ago my first son, Ethan, came along.  I quit teaching 8th grade American History and became a stay at home mom.  I about drove myself crazy.  My A-type personality desperately needed goals and stress.  And worse yet, I didn't sleep for the first 14 months of Ethan's life as he had allergies, colick, and severe reflux.  He slept 2 hour stints at the most, and pretty much cried the other times he was awake.  It was a really trying first year and while I would like to look back at that time with a great sense of humor, you couldn't pay me a zillion dollars to go back to that stage.  My poor husband must have thought I was going to jump off the deep end any moment as I cried a lot and rolled my eyes at him equally.  Fast forward six years and Ethan is healthy, happy, hilarious, and vibrant.  Oh, and he SLEEPS!  Thank God. 

My boys at the park this summer.

Anyway, the point of my story is that I needed something to hold onto.  I needed a firm rope to keep me grounded.  My husband took up running around this time and I thought he was crazy to run 6-8 miles in one day.  "There is no way that is healthy!" I would grumble.  But I was secretly jealous that he had the strength and courage to run out that door every day and somehow run back in an hour later.

My husband at the Air Life Memorial 10K in 2012 where he PR'd by over 5 minutes!

Somewhere along the line, I started running to save my sanity.  I desperately needed those few hours a week to myself.  I didn't push a jogging stroller, EVER.  I didn't want a baby with me.  It was, and still is, MY time.  I am a better mother, wife, friend, and person when I run.  My weekly mileage stands for so much more than a number.  Those are the steps I took away from my family every week.  They were the moments where no one asked me for the 14th snack of the day, or desperately needed to know right now, at this very moment, "WHERE is my bear?"  No one is grabbing my legs or pulling my fingers one direction or another.  Orange juice is not being spilled all over my freshly cleaned couch.  I am alone for that one hour and holy bonanza, I LOVE it!

When I walk back in the door every morning, my boys greet me with a much anticipated, "Good morning, Mom!"  Their little smiles bring me back to reality, and in my post run high, I run up to each of them with big sweaty hugs and kisses and find out about last night's dreams. We immediately begin planning our daily adventures together while I make breakfast.

When I first started running, it was only 3 days a week, maybe 10-15 miles.  Over time, that number has dramatically grown and my commitment to the sport has tripled.  I ran my first marathon using the Hal Higdon training method, which dedicated 25-35 miles per week.  For my second go at the Colfax Marathon, I've taken on an entirely different training strategy that requires 50 miles per week on average, spread out over 6 days. That's about 8 hours a week.  In short, my kids hate the new schedule. 

Daily, I return from my morning runs as my boys greet me with amazing hugs and then quickly ask, "Why do you ALWAYS have to run?  When are you going to stop this?  Didn't you just run yesterday?"  I tell them that running makes mommy happy and healthy and it is the only thing that I ask for every day that is strictly for me.  They don't understand that yet, and I hope it will someday sink in.  My husband is extremely supportive and he tells them the same things, but I can't help feel the insane amount of guilt when their little puppy eyes beg me to stop this nonsense. 

I've begun getting up an hour earlier (5:45am or before) so that I can run and be finished, or close to being done by the time everyone else in the house wakes up.  But I still hear complaints on the weekend when I run longer, or if I miss their waking up by 10-15 minutes.  I started this nonsense to break away for small fractions of time.  I needed goals outside my kids.  It was a way to find me again.  Yes, I am a mom, but I am more than that.  And running proved it.  When I am with my kids, I give them 100%.  I love them desperately, but there has to be a balance. 

I don't want running to get in the way of everyone else in my family.  They didn't sign up for the marathon, I did.  It shouldn't affect my kids or husband, but the reality is, you can't train to run 26.2 miles without putting a little pressure on the system.  It's with their unwavering support and patience that I will cross the finish line again in May. 


How do you strike the balance between parenthood and mileage?  
Does your family make you feel guilty for running?

~Roadburner
 

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