Running Away

Last night I ran and ran and ran. People who love me know, I am not a runner. They know that the one season I ran cross country in high school, I froze at the only meet I showed up for and walked off the track with shin splints. The shorts were cute, and there were shiny metals, but those were like the sirens on the rocks as I watched the other runners sail by me. See, I didn't have a 7, 5 and 2 year old on my heels back then. No motivation.

Now, I have been so transformed by bearing and loving and worrying about our children that I actually prefer running some nights. Tonight's flight was brought on by an ordinary day. A morning of sorting out a 9 day road trip (laundry, mysterious toys and sticky things on the floor mats of the car); collecting three Nana and Papa starved children from the comfy respite of my parents house; taking my two non-Kinderdance campers to Monkey Joe's and just witnessing little people grow into bigger, more evolved versions of themselves. I didn't lose my patience, I picked my battles, I remembered to slow down. Still, at the end of the day, when I found my sweet husband at the car dealer (Oh, yes. We had to retrieve him from the dealer where his car gearing up for its mid-life crisis) his quick sizing up of me said it all. My "crazy momma look" reflected back into his eyes, where I was greeted with a concerned, "Have they been OK today?" Well, sure. Yes, they have. Sometimes I can just find things to get wound up about on an absolutely ordinary day, in fact.