Does life mimick my runs or do my runs mimick my life?
So my daughter has been crying her eyes out lately. She doesn’t want to go to school, dance, share, gymnastics, do homework………nothing! It’s making me so sad to always see her so sad. I work in a classroom across the hallway from her and she comes running across, tears streaming down her face for something or another everyday. She asks everyday if someone can come pick her up early from school because she has a tummy ache……..
I blame it on me, changes, I left for a few days to go run Boston……..but when I sat her down to have a “meeting” her words didn’t shock me, but then again, they did.
She told me she loves her teacher. She doesn’t like me to be gone from her. She told me Kindergarten was easy and that First grade is hard. She doesn’t understand the hundreds in math.
My brave girl, my girl who jumped out of bed to jump rope, my girl who climbed a mountain with me, my girl who swam until her toes were bloody from scraping the bottom, my girls who…………..has found some things in life which are tough, and was uncomfortable being this uncomfortable.
And so now, I’ve come to some of my hardest parenting……….letting her be ok, uncomfortable. Of course we’ll read a little more, we’ll get some appropriate math games, we’ll keep writing everyday, and I’ll get home to let her play and ride her bike; all things she loves. But I won’t let her quit. We don’t quit.
Tonight, as I was running the streets of Detroit, on still tired legs, despite barely logging any miles, it was tough. I know I’m still in recovery and you can’t recover while still being as fast or with running coming as easily……and so I too find myself uncomfortable. I was gasping. A girl that I worked hard to stay in front of just two weeks ago went on without me. A guy who hasn’t run in front of me in a year, was enough in front to be in front, and all I could do was gasp, feel my tired legs becoming more tired, and yet, I couldn’t quit.
I’ve always been – well……..lucky in that way. I don’t really even think about quitting. I certainly don’t win, I’m by no means the fastest, but I don’t easily throw in the towel either. I can be uncomfortable. I don’t necessarily like it, I mean come on! Who likes not being ale to breathe? But, I can jump and there is something inside me that just knows I’m going to land; probably no worse for the wear.
When I really sit back and think about it, I’m sad that my daughter has sads, in her life. No parent wants to de-tangle the octopus kid who’s crying as she leaves. But then again, how lucky is she that she gets to become comfortable, being uncomfortable, at age six?!
Groovy Girls Go……..Until Uncomfortable is Comfortable