I have been inactive for some time. For someone who shares her "activities" are yoga and running, I have been a chair potato. There are too many excuses with TIME TIME TIME, with an undertone that exercise with a child is different. To be specific: exercise with a child who resists his jogging stroller wanting to run himself, and cries in childcare when I attempt a yoga class with the suggestion to, "Just leave him in his stroller and he WILL calm down, Mom!" Really???
In before-child (or BC) days, I would go for hour-plus runs. I would practice yoga for 90 minutes, once for 30 days straight. But now those activities have me plagued with mama-guilt or maybe more marriage guilt. In a shuffle of priorities with both husband and wife needing a few minutes of their own time for sanity, hours are extravagant. I have a friend who was a triathlete until his son was born. When I asked why he gave up racing, he explained, "Can you imagine telling my wife I am going to train for the DAY? Plus I'd RATHER be with my family during my free time than away from them." As a parent and wife, I get it. For someone who was once an athlete, going for a 20 minute walk doesn't feel like real exercise, although I'm pretty lucky when that happens.
Stepping away from my excuse of time on vacation has me see there is nothing but this present time. I've always looked forward to Ojai run-walks during my visits. Breathing in the air fragrant from eucalyptus trees and the sweet smell of orange groves brings me deeper into my breath with every step.
I had a very Zooey Deschanel's-character from the movie "Yes Man" moment. For those of you who have not seen the movie, she plays a quirky creative character named Alison who is the love interest of Jim Carrey's character, Carl. One of her few professions is a running-photography group leader. I am pretty sure this movie was made before the instantaneousness of camera phones, where the group runs around with point and shoot cameras, but you can see for yourself.
I had two different walk-runs so far depending on whether or not I was with my running buddy (only second in command to my original and preferred walk-running buddy Journey who I'm missing very much right now.)
But I guess he will do for the ride: ) Unlike Journey who could always fall into pace with me, this child would surely love if I were a sprinter. Taking time to stop and take a picture was a rare occurrence, compared to my run sans-child.
Birds that Evan pointed at
With this child, mostly walk-running the 2 miles around the block tested his limits. If his mama was a sprinter, his fantasy would be to cruise like that pig in the Geico commercial , especially with his Pinwheel blowing in the wind flying down the hills.
These hills can bite. My legs are still burning from the dip. The dip has a blind spot, which always makes me run with superhuman powers scared that some crazy driver who wants to have a little Dukes of Hazard fun will go flying over it and kill us, and we really would be found lying in a ditch. (I am convinced that this morbid thinking is another genetic trait that I'm wondering if any of my cousins can also relate to?)
So now here is my solo-run (Zooey Deschanel-character style). Imagine this: listening to the Enya radio station on Pandora (highly recommend for walk-running), feeling free and unencumbered from the extra weight of a jogging stroller carrying a 30 pound child through hills (did I mention that already?) And really taking this all as a moving meditation, thankful to see each perfect work of art in the surrounding images:
But there is one thing I did not share about my experience with child. He pushes me in new ways. In the element of TIME TIME TIME he begins to wiggle around mile 1, and I need to keep him entertained for the next 10 – 15 minutes. I pump up the Pandora leaving Enya behind to find a new station: 80s Throwback. I do what every mother instinctively does for generations and generations: calms her fussy child with music. However my singing is more belting/huff-puffing since we only meet a few Ojaians on the road. Whitesnake's "Here I go Again" was a big hit with signs for "more more more" from the pinwheel-clutching peanut gallery in front. "Billy Jean" not so much. I move onto a new station and era, peppy with 90s pop. Can anyone but the Spice Girls sing their music? (I fast forward through songs too hard to sing, although I add them to my iPhone's note 90s songs for Meg. My friend Meghan & I frequently add new songs to this ongoing 90s hit list, texting the other one messages like, "Sinead OConnor: Nothing Compares to YOU!!!!" and "Party of 5 theme – I'll be there for you – Remembrandts?"
And even without the Enya, and my belting away – taking me deeper into the breath, and with this little boy and stroller in tow – I take one more picture of what my new shadow looks like, however I choose to move~
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