It’s no news that April showers bring May flowers and motherhood brings exhaustion. I’ve seriously tried a few times to run with one eye shut to see if that would take the edge off of the bone-wobbling tiredness that comes from deailing with children in the middle of the night. Unfortunately, running with one eye shut simply adds to the lack of depth perception in the wee hours of the morning and increases your chance of tripping over some invisible crack in the street. Well, I guess it wasn’t invsible. Crash. Falling down in your forties is not the same as falling down when you’re four. Let’s count the ways.
1. The embarassment is greater and last a bit longer. When you’re four, you look around and see that only maybe your mom saw you. When you’re forty, you imagine that all eyes were pressed to living room and kitchen windows, watching you run up the street and then become one with the street.
2. Blood doesn’t look as good running down your legs. Not that it did at four, really, but now it seems more grotesque and adds a layer of questionability to your character. Why would a forty-something year old be bleeding at 6:30 in the morning? Fight with a racoon over a garbage can?
Of course, these emotional reactions only lasts a few minutes. Once I was a block or two away (can’t go home crying to mommy about your skinned knee, so you might as well keep running), I started to feel pretty damned tough. Yes! It’s me, running no matter what! Even though I’m exhausted, can’t keep my eyes open and the first thing I kissed this morning was not my husband or my kids but Agate Street somewhere between 24th and 23rd, I’m a runner, a dedicated one if nothing else.