As I topped the hill, the finish line appeared ahead, shimmering under the blazing June sun. Each step felt like traversing a desert, with sweat trickling down my back. Approaching the finish of my first 5K, I repeated my mantra, “Left, Right, Repeat,” pushing through the fatigue. As I reached the final stretch, I spotted my partner and kids cheering for me. My heart swelled with pride, knowing they were witnessing my journey after months of preparation.
Crossing the finish line, I gasped for air and searched for my family. Locking eyes with my partner, my son shouted, “Great job, Mom! But you didn’t win!” This elicited laughter from onlookers, a stark reminder of kids’ refreshing honesty.
I took up running later in life. Although I had participated in track during high school, the reality of the commitment needed for Olympic-level success quickly dissuaded me. My sporadic jogging in college was hardly a serious endeavor. It wasn’t until motherhood in my late 20s that I realized I needed more than just running up stairs to keep fit.
Fortunately, my local community offered a fantastic program for women focusing on health and wellness, culminating in a 5K race. The thought of running three miles felt far more appealing than facing the daily chaos of toddler tantrums and potty training.
That’s how I found myself shivering alongside other moms on a chilly Tuesday evening in March. Our instructor led us through our first session, and I won’t lie: my body jiggled in unexpected ways as I huffed and puffed like a cartoon character. It was embarrassing, but as the weeks passed, I built friendships with my fellow participants. We bonded over shared struggles, and I appreciated their frank expressions of frustration.
Over the following 12 weeks, I dedicated myself to the training. I completed my “homework” workouts and enlisted friends to watch my kids, allowing me to attend group sessions. I nursed my sore muscles, invested in supportive gear, and treated myself to quality running shoes. Gradually, I found my stride and felt less self-conscious, although I never stopped using colorful language during tough runs.
When I finished that graduation race, I felt like a true warrior. I may not have crossed first, but I certainly didn’t come in last. Even if I had, I would still consider myself a winner; I had taken action and completed my goal.
For the first time as a mother, I prioritized my well-being, and the sense of accomplishment was exhilarating. I was proud to reclaim my physical and mental health, striving to be the best version of myself for my children.
Eight years into my running journey, I have yet to win a race. I’ve never stood atop a podium or received a medal for first place. Yet, I keep lacing up my shoes, fueled by my love for the sport.
Winning comes in various forms. As mothers, we deserve to recognize our achievements in navigating the challenges of parenting, both on and off the track. I consider myself a winner because I have friends who reach out, encouraging me to join them on runs after long weeks.
I am a winner because I’ve completed six marathons, with another on the way, joking that the first-place runner was just intimidated by my potential.
I’m a winner because I’ve explored cities across the U.S., experiencing the beauty our country offers, often only accessible on foot. And I’m a winner because when my daughter felt disheartened by her basketball team’s 0-12 record, I could impart the lesson that winning isn’t everything. We discussed the importance of showing up for oneself and others, understanding that sometimes losses lead to greater victories in life.
Ultimately, I see more than just a mother when I gaze in the mirror; I see a strong, independent woman who sets an example for her children. I also recognize that I shouldn’t feel guilty about indulging in that extra glass of wine or bowl of ice cream. That’s a victory worth celebrating.
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Summary:
Despite not winning any races, I continue to run, celebrating the victories of motherhood, health, and personal growth. Running has fostered friendships, improved my physical and mental health, and taught me valuable life lessons to share with my children.