As I reached the top of the hill, the finish line appeared in the distance like a beacon of hope. The blazing June sun beat down on the pavement, making each stride feel like I was traversing a desert. Sweat dripped down my back, and as I approached the end of my first 5K road race, I repeated my mantra: “Left, Right, Repeat.” When I finally hit those last few yards, my heart swelled with pride as I spotted my husband and kids cheering me on. It was a sunny day, and I felt an overwhelming sense of accomplishment, knowing my children were witnessing me achieve something I had worked so hard for.
Crossing that finish line, panting heavily, I quickly scanned for my family. My husband caught my eye just as my son shouted, “Great job, Mom! Just so you know, you didn’t win!” The laughter from the crowd was infectious.
Ah, the brutal honesty of children, right?
I took up running later in life. While I had participated in track during high school, my aspirations of becoming an Olympic athlete fizzled out when I realized the dedication required for such a feat. A few laps around campus now and then helped me burn off those college calories, but it was only after becoming a mother in my late 20s that I recognized my “mom hips” needed more than just casual stair climbing to fit back into my yoga pants.
Luckily, my community offered a fantastic program designed for women focused on health and wellness, culminating in the ability to complete a 5K race. In the hectic world of toddler parenting, the thought of running three miles seemed far preferable to navigating potty training and toddler meltdowns.
And that’s how I found myself shivering alongside other women who were just like me on a cold Tuesday evening in the blustery March wind. Our instructor led our first workout, and I won’t sugarcoat it: my body jiggled in ways I didn’t even know were possible, and I huffed and puffed like a cartoon character.
It was a humbling experience, but week after week, I bonded with several participants, and we kept showing up together—mostly because we shared a colorful vocabulary during our tough runs. It felt like I had found my tribe.
Over the next 12 weeks, I committed myself to the training. I made time to complete the “homework” workouts and enlisted friends to watch my kids so I could attend weekly sessions. I nurtured my sore muscles, invested in a high-quality sports bra (to protect myself from “the ladies” bouncing), and splurged on a good pair of running shoes. With each passing week, I huffed a little less, and the jiggling became less noticeable too. I still didn’t stop swearing, though.
When I crossed that graduation race finish line, I felt like a total badass. Sure, I wasn’t the first to finish, but I wasn’t last either. Even if I had been the last one across, I would’ve still felt victorious because I put myself out there and did it.
For the first time since becoming a mom, I prioritized my own needs. The rush of that realization was unexpected. I felt proud of myself for taking charge of my physical and mental well-being, aiming to be the best mom I could be for those little beings who demanded so much from me.
No, I didn’t win that race that day, and even after eight years of running, I still haven’t won a single race. I’ve never stood on a podium or received a “First Place” medal. But I keep lacing up my shoes because I genuinely love it.
Winning takes many forms, and as mothers, we must acknowledge our achievements in facing the challenges of motherhood, both on and off the road, with resilience and grace.
I am a winner because I have friends who reach out and say, “I’m running tomorrow. After a stressful week, you should join me.”
I am a winner because I’ve completed six marathons, with a seventh on the horizon, and I tell myself that the first-place finisher won because he was afraid I’d catch up.
I am a winner because I’ve run in cities across the U.S., experiencing the beauty of our nation in ways only accessible by foot.
And I am a winner because when my daughter was upset about her basketball team’s 0-12 record, I could sincerely tell her that winning isn’t everything. We discussed the importance of showing up for oneself and one’s team, and how sometimes, losing can teach us valuable lessons about what truly matters in life.
Ultimately, I know I’m a winner because when I look in the mirror, I see more than just “a mom.” I see a strong, independent woman setting an example for my children. I also see someone who doesn’t need to feel guilty about indulging in that extra glass of wine or bowl of ice cream—which is a reward worth its weight in gold.
For more insights on this journey of motherhood and personal growth, check out some of our other posts, like this one about intrauterine insemination. And if you’re considering at-home insemination, Make a Mom offers excellent kits to assist in your journey. For a deeper understanding of family-building options, this resource can be highly informative.
In summary, while I may not be winning races, I am certainly winning at life in ways that matter most.