What an entirely lovely morning.
It starts at 6am with me nursing Brennyn. Too early but she’s just so squishy and delicious that early is okay. Soon after, we hear Kaya start to sing Oh Canada. As soon as that voice is heard, there is no getting Brenny back to sleep. So we just lay there smiling, listening to our anthem on loop. Finally Brenny can take it no longer and starts calling out for Kaya. She babbles and moans until Kaya hears, leaps out of bed and out the door. “I have to pee!” she yells and runs to the potty first which disgusts Brennyn to no end. Finally, Kaya barrels into bed and Brenny laughs, bounces and flaps her arms with joy. Sister love is the best kind of love.
Later, I have some coffee and computer time. As my tears flow (see previous post), Bal is putting Brennyn for her morning nap and trying to avoid playing dollhouse with Kaya (I don’t blame him! She’s so bossy playing dollhouse…) Needing a second cup of coffee, I peek into Kaya’s room. Her and daddy are building, destroying and rebuilding again. Their favourite game. I smile. Then I peek into Brennyn’s room. This is dangerous being the light sleeper that she is, but I feel the need to see her. Sadness and the reminder to not take life for granted does that I guess. So I peek in expecting the peaceful slumber of a napping infant. She sleeps sure, but it is far from peaceful. With her butt in the air, head crammed into the end of the bed, face sort of crumpled and crooked looking entirely uncomfortable and strained, she looks more like a college student passed out in the wrong bed at the end of a long night of tequila shots. Somehow this is perfect.
Then it is time for a run. Run 3 minutes, walk 1 minute, 10X today. That is 30 minutes of running time. A big step. I feel ready. Most people would tell you it was a miserable day today. Overcast, cool, menacing, dark clouds threatening the lighter skies above. For me it was perfect. Melancholy. Quiet. The path is empty of any other people, but full of life all the same. Birds chirping in chorus, squirrels calling out for my dog (they taunt her for fun, they really do. Cracks me up!), dewy leaves dropping drops, and the thud, thud (more like squish, squish on the sodden path) of my runners hitting ground. There is nothing else right then. Just those sounds amidst the smells of a wet spring and my beating heart. Oh okay, and maybe a gasp for breath now and then.
Thud-thud-chirp-chirp-squeak-squeak-breath-breath-beat-beat. This is life in the moment.
I hit my favourite path to run. It is a rolling, undulating trail with a slight downhill of rhythmic corners. I love it. I feel like a runner on it. A real runner.
Or I would if it weren’t for my bouncing butt. The moment is lost for just a moment as I fantasize about inventing a butt bra for runners. I would make millions and become famous and give interviews only to have no one listen until I got up to leave and then the flash of bulbs aimed at my ass would result in far too many paparazzi butt shots and I retire. Phew, is it just me or all runner’s imaginations INSANE?
So this is all going on in my brain until I flash back to the moment. The moment when I realize that I am, in this moment, RUNNING MY PANTS OFF! Seriously. They are half way down my ass. Regardless that once again, I am baring my butt without want to (see here and here and apparently I am my own doppelganger here…), my pants that fit just fine a few weeks ago, are now too big. I am shrinking!
After a successful run, I get home and the girls decide to bike to the park. Truly, there is nothing like kids, bikes, and playgrounds to remember what is really important in life. It’s these little things. These moments. Each moment. Perfect.