As I drive by, I catch a glimpse of this incredible mom, her ponytail swaying with each determined step. I see her hand resting on the jogging stroller, steadily pushing herself and her fussy little one up the hill. A toddler is bundled tightly in the stroller, a blanket draped over his legs, clutching a sippy cup that he’s bound to toss out at least a dozen times during their run. Her face reflects a mix of determination and fatigue, the kind that suggests she moved mountains just to carve out 30 minutes for herself.
I recognize her well because I was once in her shoes. When my children were young, the monotony of nap times, endless laundry, and toddler tantrums nearly drove me to my wits’ end. As a stay-at-home parent, the daily grind fell mostly on my shoulders. My partner helped as much as he could after work, but most nights, I collapsed on the couch, overwhelmed and exhausted. I’d zone out in front of the TV until he gently reminded me it was time to sleep, only to wake up and repeat the cycle the next day.
There was no time for self-care or yoga classes, and while chasing a toddler was tiring, it did little to help me shed those stubborn post-pregnancy pounds. In my late 20s, I felt old and worn out, often out of breath just climbing the stairs or playing at the park.
But I was a mom, right? I thought putting myself last was part of the deal. A friend of mine had a different perspective. She encouraged me to join her one warm summer evening for a jog through our quiet neighborhood. I was hesitant but agreed, mainly because she promised a glass of wine after our run.
That first run was a struggle. I huffed and puffed, cursing under my breath as I lagged behind my fit friend. When we finished, she beamed and asked, “Didn’t that feel amazing?” I rolled my eyes but realized my husband had managed bedtime while I was gone. Maybe there was something to running after all.
So, I made a commitment to prioritize my well-being. I transformed into that mom with the ponytail, navigating the neighborhood behind a jogging stroller. I became the one who packed snacks and sippy cups, alongside water bottles and energy gels. I dealt with tantrums and lost toys on the side of the road, and I often stood at busy intersections, wishing drivers were more considerate of a mom trying to run safely. I cursed every hill while my toddler begged to go home “nooow.”
But more than anything, I learned that taking time for myself was essential. So as I pass the mom on the side of the road, clad in bright running tights and a cap, I want her to know I see her struggle. I understand the effort it took to dress her toddler and get him into the stroller while he protested. I remember that first mile, when the stroller felt like a heavy burden and the couch seemed so much easier.
I feel the familiar grip of the stroller handle and the bounce as she navigates potholes and obstacles. I remember how a downhill stretch feels like a reward, making it easier to push that stroller filled with all the necessities. Most importantly, I see how badass she looks, and I smile as I drive by. When I glance in the rearview mirror, I notice her beaming face—it’s the expression of a mom who knows she’s doing something amazing.
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In summary, this piece celebrates the dedication and strength of moms who prioritize their well-being while juggling parenting responsibilities. It emphasizes the importance of self-care and the incredible journey of motherhood.