Tonight, the Expert and I were watching the 2010 Ironman World Championships on DVR (yes, where it stays forever).
Our two year old, Stella, saw Mirinda Carfrae, and screamed “Ohhhh, there’s Mommy!” And then James said, “No, it’s not. That’s Daddy!” Of course, neither myself nor the Expert were in Kona…on vacation, or otherwise.
Part of the reason I go to the gym, part of the reason I spend weekends running, and most importantly —the reason I am capable of telling my kids goodbye to “go” for a swim… I want those babies to see the motion, to understand the weirdness/beauty of waking up at unholy hours to run, bike and swim…. and to think it’s no big deal to do so.
To move, to run, to work. And to crave it. Lifestyle.
When I was in middle school, there was a family of runners – I was in class with the youngest daughter. They spent Saturday mornings racing, running, sweating. I though they were THE weirdest group of people in the world back then. A bunch of freaks. Now? In hindsight? I think they are awesome.
I want my kids to be healthy. To love to move. To think a bike ride is fun, not work. A few minutes after I was watching Ironman 2010 and thinking this exact thought, Stella hops off my lap and takes off running… on loops around the house… “I running! I like Mommy! I runnnnnning!”
James, our three year old, chimes in: “No, I am running like Mommy too!”
They start running and arguing about who is running faster (even though a “house rule” is “no running” in the house… I let them go….) And in that moment, I feel it. I feel that I am doing right by my children. I feel, that those two babies will run and play and have it all out in front of them. They will be healthy and happy. And race. And sweat. And love it.
Or if they don’t… at least, they will know it’s an option, a possibility.
And selfishly… I think… my children will never, never know me as the mom who didn’t move, as the mom who was too fat, too tired to play. Rather, I may be the mom who can “outrun your mom” (wishful thinking) or …(super wishful thinking) …..”My mommy is an Ironman.”
These dreams are big. But life is long. And dreams can last a lifetime. And I have two happy, healthy young babies. Who knows what can happen in their lifetimes?
I almost finished dead last at a race this weekend (in one division), but…then again, I medaled in another division. It’s all perspective. In one category (the skinny fit people), I was a loser. In another category (ladies over 150 pounds), I was a winner.
The world is our triathlon oyster. We do it because we tri. Really… what can’t we do? And who tells you otherwise, and why do you let them? I mean…. really? Who is telling you… you can’t? And who are they?
Do this for your life. Do triathlon for your family. For the people that matter. At the end of the day… what else matters?
Have a great week, my friends.
PS… as we are watching, the Expert looks at one of the racers and looks at me… “Is that the way I am supposed to wear my Fuel Belt?”
I look at him, then at the TV. Then back. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure,” I say.
“Crap,” he says. “I’ve been wondering why it’s so damn hard to reach.”
Love it. Love Triathlon.