(Obviously started this a bit before the new year, but it is still fresh. Somewhat.)
2011 is fast approaching, and if you are like me you may be attempting to set goals for yourself, some of which you may even bother to reach. Generally speaking, my workout goals this year are to do a sprint triathlon and run another marathon or two. I may try to fit a half marathon into the mix; we'll see. Following my marathon in November I've wanted little to do with running, my workout BFF. We'd been spending too much time together which has caused some staleness in our relationship. Thus, we've decided to limit the amount of time we hang out to about twice a week. This give us both some time (well, it gives me some time--I can only take this analogy so far) to develop other interests, such as swimming, aerobics, and the like.
Now that the baby-making machine has been put to rest for a while (I haven't been pregnant in 16 months--woohoo!), I have been able to develop some regularity in my training. Since triathlons generally take place in the summer, and marathons in the fall, my training has taken on a sort of a seasonal feel, which suits me just fine. This way when I begin to burn out on one thing, I can switch gears and follow a new direction for a while.
Seasons are good that way. They provide variety while allowing for a large degree of predictability. But what happens when seasons change--permanently? What happens when my body or my schedule tell me that they are no longer going to put up with the ridiculous amounts of running and time a marathon requires? When my knees scream at the mere thought of a four mile run? What will I do then?
Although I hate to admit it, I know that other important things in my life are ephemeral as well, namely being the center of my children's universe. Although I sometimes (often?) gripe about the time constraints and stresses of raising kids, being a mother has proven to be the most important and rewarding work I've done to date. Reading a book to my kids as they both struggle to fit on my lap, kissing away a boo-boo obtained from a beligerant sidewalk crack, comforting one of them when they awaken from a nightmare, receiving more than my fair share of hugs and kisses throughout the day...the joy I receive from these gifts can not be communicated through writing. What a blessing to me my young children are. A blessing, and a very large part of who I am.
So again, there's the question: what happens when this season passes? When my sweet little boys grow up to become not-so-sweet school kids who are more interested in their little friends than they are me, when they go on to become high school boys who find another woman (okay, girl) that takes that coveted position in the center of their world, when they (and this seems too surreal to even imagine, but I know it is the goal) leave my house to venture out into the world at large? What will they do without their mom to help them get dressed in the morning or make them lunch or wipe their tears when they are disappointed? Or the better question: What will I do?
Here's when I have to look reality--and its real, frightening facts that some day I will be too old to run and that some day my boys won't need me any more--in the eye and tell it that although I may be afraid now, I know that when the time comes I will meet it head on--with confidence--and get through it. How do I know this? Because I believe that these real blessings in my life--my passion for fitness and my fierce love for my babies--are from a God who loves me and blesses me with all good things. He gives and takes away, and when the time for these things is up He will fill the void with something new. It certainly won't look the same and it may take a while to adjust to, but the new season He sends will be uniquely wrapped with love and care, for He knows me intimately and thus meets my needs. Blessed be his name. Thank you, Lord, for seasons.
