Old Friends

I stopped running when I was about six and a half months pregnant.  I actually enjoyed the slowed down pace of walking--I noticed cool houses, spent more time looking out at the ocean, and had quiet to think.  To keep my "running habit" though, I still dressed out in running clothes. Sometimes this would confuse Alex who showered, shaved, and dressed before a planned morning walk, while I pulled on a sportsbra and my old running shoes (plus other clothes, of course, but the sentence sounded better with just the two items):  "Wait...what kind of walk is this," he would ask, "A 'workout walk' or a 'holding hands' walk?"

Towards the end of the pregnancy, I began looking with more longing at the kids heading out on their run while my big belly and I trailed behind.  I was anxious for the day I could strap on the new Nikes sitting in my closet waiting for my first "post-pregnancy" run.  

I've now gone on three "post-pregnancy" runs, and each one has felt better than the last, as my muscles remember what they used to do six days a week, and I fall into old running routines: stretching at stoplights, checking my watch at mile markers, changing my stride on hills, and listening to my iPod Shuffle. Alex gave me my Shuffle Christmas 2005, and I haven't changed the songs since I loaded them at the Ghents.  Alex always offers his Nano, which is loaded with more songs and gives me control, but I decline each time.  I've put in so many miles with my old Shuffle songs, I can't imagine running with anyone else.  It's a mix of legitimately good music like Ray Lamontagne, Snow Patrol, and Beck and guiltier pleasures like Madonna, Michael Jackson, and Gwen Stefani.   The "Shuffle" also adds a more unpredictable element to my runs: Will an upbeat song come on when I'm starting to feel a little pooped?  Will a mellow song begin as I end my run and stretch in the front yard?  It's like a slot machine without the quarters.

On last night's run, I hit the jackpot rolling into my last mile as Kriss Kross made me want to jump, jump.  Truly, a wigidy wigidy wack time running.  Wow, I hope the next one is as fun and energizing, I thought.  But instead of Jay-Z or Gorillaz, on came Sting's "Fields of Gold," and I was suddenly back in my Orem living room talking with my mom and Travis the summer I would go work at Disneyland.  It was one of those small moments you know you'll remember forever, like when I watched my overalled mom hug my dad in the kitchen, saying, "Look, how perfect we fit!" or I was accused of eating all the Pringles by a crazy-in-love brother Thanksgiving night in a Nissan Sentra.  Summer 1993 would be the beginning of independence and, as cliche as it sounds, figuring out who I was, who I wanted to be.  With the song playing on, I thought of all that has happened to bring me to this run.  Many years, experiences, joys, worries have passed since that moment in the living room, too many years since I last talked with my mom, but for a few minutes on a darkened Rindge Lane, I was running with it all.