I'm not sure exactly why. I used to do these posts on Sundays, and then I just drifted away from them.
I like writing them now and then, but having the same post on the same day every single week is just not my blogging style. Which I don't truly have, I suppose. But it's all good.
But today I want to talk some fitness, honestly.
I am finding mine, finding my way back to it, not all the way there, but I'm good and I like it.
Yesterday I did the Color Mania 5K with my daughter and some friends. We had an awesome time. Seriously. So much fun. What a colorful mess, for real. We walked it, and it didn't matter one bit. We just made our way, with the kids, and loved every second of it. The kids did, too.
** Random side note as I recognized where this post is headed ... Uhm, I just realized part of my post is going to coincide with Jana's Sunday meme... so maybe I'll link up! See below for directions ... **
Anyway, my daughter. My six-year-old. She came with me.
And she walked.
The whole thing. The entire 5K.
And she loved it. She loved the colors in our hair. The running up ahead and finding the next color. The jumping over muddy puddles wherever she could find them.
She loved it.
A few weeks ago I did the Dirty Girl Mud Run. She wanted to come with me. When I got home, she asked me why she couldn't, and I explained that you have to be 14. We'll do it together then, I told her. And I meant it. Eight years from now. I'll be 48. (Mother of holy cow!) But I plan on doing it. Damned if I don't, is my mindset. Why the hell wouldn't I be able to?
She knows her mama did a mud run. Climbed things and crawled through things and wound up wet and pretty muddy and dirty and it was all okay.
She knows we did the "race" yesterday, but nobody "won" - - we just did it. We walked and ran with friends and MOVED. And it was AWESOME.
After showering yesterday we found ourselves headed to the park to fly a new kite my husband picked up. Some time running around - *me with my phone in the car!* - and climbing and sliding and jumping at the playground. She broke a sweat. Her cheeks were flushed. She ran.
She loved it.
I was a tiny girl when I was 3. 4. 5. Maybe 6, even. When did I start to gain weight? I don't know. I do know that my 6th grade class picture shows a much chubbier me. I don't want that for my daughter. Health is first, of course, but I don't want her to see a chubby self. I don't want her to think fitness is evil and gym class is terrifying.
At the store the other day, and today, even, she found hula hoops. She showed me she tries. She does it in school. It's fun. And awesome. AND FUN.
Me? I hated my junior high school gym clothes more than anything I could ever imagine. EVER. Changing in front of those girls? Ugh. And I had friends. I didn't really have enemies. And it still sucked.
Have you ever heard of Joyce Leslie? It's a store. A clothing store. The dressing room? Communal.
What the eff?
You heard me. COMMUNAL.
Can you imagine going in there growing up? It was strange. We did it, because we just did. But still. COMMUNITY DRESSING ROOM, PEOPLE.
I flashed back to that after the mud run, actually. We walked from the car to go get changed. Walked into this big huge tent and ... ta dah! Community changing and cleaning area.
But this was different. Nobody cared. Nobody looked. And hell, if they did? I didn't give two - - uhm - - well, you get me. You know why? Because I didn't just feel like the last kid picked to play basketball. I didn't worry that running around track would give me an asthma attack even though I've never even HAD asthma. I just finished a mother effing MUD RUN. I WAS A DIRTY GIRL. I earned that. And every single one of us in that room had done just that.
So did we care who was changing where? Short of hoping not to have someone walk into the tent and right into my bare backside - nope. Not at all. Because we weren't looking. We didn't care. We just wanted out of our wet and dirty and chilly clothes and to feel ever-so-slightly clean.
Now, where was I? Oh, right. Mud Run? #lifelist entry number I don't know exactly what? Check. Done. I did it. I'm happy as a dirty girl and I did it.
* Why do I fear the kinds of searches that might bring people here with all this Dirty Girl talk? Oy. *
Anyway, back to finding fitness. Jana's prompt today is Pass it on. Stream of Consciousness Sundays is a fun weekly brain dump. It's supposed to be five minutes of typing, but I think with the subject matter I chose today, Jana will forgive me. Especially since she's Ms. Fitness herself and a kick-ass mother runner!
Part of the Pass It On prompt asks, what is something that you have passed on to your children? My hope? My dream? My prayer, even? My growing enjoyment of MOVEMENT. My love (love?!?) of fitness. My fitspiration.
I hope she feels it now and carries it with her through life.
My friend said to me at the race yesterday how she doesn't want her son learning to run in his 30s. YES. That's it. I get it. I really do. THAT IS IT. Do you get it? Sooner. They need to know and love the movement sooner. NOW. They can love it now.
I want the love I am learning to feel for running, for working out regularly and for moving my body - my whole entire body - to carry into my 6-yo's little being and stay there. Stick there forever.
That's not too much to ask, is it?
* I swear she was so much happier than she looks here! *