Registration is free and the event is held in your town only 9 months [usually] after you sign up.
Oh, you didn't know about this one?
You're all over those niche races...Spartan, Mud-Run...that silly Ironman-thingy....
You don't know.
NO. Look at me. Look at mommy. Take your eyes off the TV and look at me when I'm talking to you.
You. DON'T. KNOW. You don't know it until you're in it. It's so harrrrrrd. It's never easy. And everyone races it wrong. There's no proven training program...there's no medals...there's no age group winners, there's no elite category to pine after, and there is certainly no podium. My sis-in-law and I don't always see eye-to-eye, but she knows. You don't. Well, maybe you do.
My friend who is a teacher full-time during the school year and full-time mom in the summer: she knows. My other friend who has a generous maternity leave and has stayed at home with her newborns for months after each of her children are born before going back to work full time: she knows. Obviously, my mommies in the trenches, raising the leaders and jacka$$es of tomorrow, starting at the crack of dawn and finishing at the crack of dawn: they know.
Everyone in your life runs the race with you, but no one is ever satisfied. No one gets a breather; no one stops to stretch. The hubby isn't satisfied; the kids aren't satisfied; the mommy isn't satisfied. There is no way to strike a balance; the grass is always greener. And if you have managed to align the planets and run the race while working a part time job in perfect harmony with your children's needs and schedule, and your husbands needs and schedule, and not to mention your own career fulfillment, then show me your daycare/nanny solution. It's a f**ked up hot mess. Ain't no Mary Poppins working part-time.
I'm talking about...Momathlon.
I've looked at clouds from both sides now...I understand I still have a skewed view, having only been temporarily thrown into the work force for two months last Fall, but damn. It was some bull sh**. I had to throw together three nannies that knew the children and work around their availability so that my children were not aware that mommy was up a sh**storm without a paddle while their real world of unicorns and Little Gym was still going on. Oh yeah, "living my dream" so my husband could run home by 6, clean up the emotional mess of a twosome that had been through three different shifts of sitters in one day, not knowing exactly what they ate, drank, did, or scraped; throw them into bed with one loving parent's wishes for sweet dreams, go back to work from home, wait for me to limp in at 10/11, at which point I could usually not talk or walk, would clean up as much of the physical mess as possible while preparing another three envelopes of instructions and payments for each sitter for the following day, pieced together from stories via text, my husband, and third-hand stories from my neighbors and husband what the children might have recalled. Granted, at 2 1/2 years of age, the children were only slightly worse than they currently are at telling time, which amounts to a lot of activities getting shoved into the category of "last week", when they really mean to say two minutes ago.
It's harrrrrrd! I still don't know what to do with myself when they occupy their own brains and hands for five minutes; but it sure as Hell isn't going back to office work anytime soon. I'm a freakin' spazz when it comes to putting breakfast in their mouths; I'm going to also make sure 500 audition
Tick tick tick. Every year I spend out of the work force becomes another mark on my résumé. Another year to explain my whereabouts. My accomplishments.
"Well.... I totally got my kids to recognize the first initial of their names before any type of formal schooling![at least one of them]"
"I've managed to lose the baby weight and maintain that number while living in my kitchen 95% of my day."
"I can grab a cheese stick, strip it, and feed it to one child, singing Old MacDonald, while retrieving a shoe from the back seat, replacing it on the appropriate foot of the appropriate child, all while driving through downtown Philly in search of a rush-hour off-street parking spot."
And my go-to:
"I can wake up at 4 to run a triathlon in the morning, cook three squares, do six loads of laundry, deliver soup and nyquil to the hubby and still take the twins to the playground after dinner before putting them to bed on my own."
I swear: it's the worst on-the-job training I've ever had.
As for my entry back to the "work-force"? Give me a break. [no. seriously. tell me to take a break cuz I haven't yet and I won't until someone
If you find yourself in a position of possibly hiring a fellow mom-athlete after years of out-of-office training, don't you doubt her one bit. You don't know.
She's running the race...she's never going to stop...she's going...to keep...running...[just like Forrest]
If you want to add a little something interesting to the course, it's not going to slow her down. It may just help her pick up her stride a little.