Yes, Ma'am. I'm a Badass Mother Runner.

This week, I finally ordered the running shirt I have been salivating over for months.  It's from the gals at Run Like A Mother, Dimity and Sarah, two very inspirational mother runners who tell it like it is.  The shirt is black and reads "badass mother runner."  Sure the language may not be right for everyone, but it sure is right for me.

After all, I'm a badass mother runner.

Today I had to do an 8 mile run.  The first 3 miles were absolutely horrible.  Everything hurt.  My knees, my feet, my toes, my head.  And that voice in my head was loudly shouting "What are you doing?  Why are  you running?  It hurts so stop!  You don't need to do this!" etc etc etc.  You know that voice.

But then I looked down and saw the writing on my shirt.

Badass mother runner.

A badass mother runner doesn't quit. 
She may complain a little, but she sure as heck doesn't quit.

So I picked up my pace.  And my attitude.  
And I channeled my inner badass.

I started to think, as I ran through mile 4, what makes me a badass mother runner?  And I spent the next 4 miles coming up with the top 10 reasons why I'm a BAMR.  Here they are:

10. My runnung playlist includes everything from AC/DC to Dolly Parton to Eminem to Elvis to Madonna to the Proclaimers to ZZ Top.  And yes it even includes Miley Cyrus.  And I'm not afraid to admit it.

9.  I like to play the air drums when I run.  And pump my fist in the air.  And sing outloud.  Apologies to those who share the road.

8.  My muffin top jiggles when I run, but I run anyway.  No apologies for that.

7.  I'm 41 and I run in pigtails.  No apologies there either.

6.  When I was 2, my family survived an attack by pirates in the South China Sea.  True story.  You are automtically a badass if you fight off pirates, no matter how old you are.

5. I birthed my 3 baby boys at home, naturally, without so much as an advil.  Boy #2 was 10 pounds.  If I can push that hefty boy out, I can do anything.

4.  I took up running just over a year ago.  My first race was a half marathon.  My second race was a full marathon, which I ran in an astounding 5 hours, 28 minutes.

3.  When I was laughed at to my face for my marathon time, I stood strong because I knew I had thousands of other mother runners at my side.  I suspect that most of them are badass as well.

2.  I have 3 sons.  Enough said.

And the number 1 reason why I am a badass mother runner:

I can clean up a bathub full of little boy poop, unclog a backed up toilet, mop up a flooded bathroom all in the blink of an eye, knock down a couple of martinis and then wake up a few hours later and run 8 miles like only a badass mother runner could.

So, what makes you a badass mother runner?

I've got a lump in my breast. So I'm going for a run.

Today I spoke those words that every woman dreads. 

I've got a lump in my breast. 

I saw my doctor this morning who did not think it was anything to be too concerned about, considering my history, but wanted to err on the safe side.  He ordered an ultrasound which I will have on Friday.

So instead of rushing home, googling everything it could be from cancer to a cyst to a fat deposit, I ran some errands, met my BFF for a quick cup of coffee and headed home.  Where I promptly strapped my precious girls down tight, laced up my beloved kicks, grabbed my pink ipod, leashed up my dog and headed out the door for a run.

The last thing I'm going to do is worry.  There is nothing that is going to change between now and Friday morning so I'm going about business as usual. 

And I had a wonderful run.  One of the best runs, ever.  It was cold, but wonderfully fresh.  I checked my Garmin on the one and only flat portion of my 3.5 mile route and nearly stopped in my tracks - but I'm glad I didn't!  I was running the fastest I had ever run.  An 8:45 minute pace.  Now I know that isn't fast by any means for a lot of mother runners out there.  But for me, I was lightning! 

Even though I had a puppy leashed in one hand and a bag of puppy poo in the other.

Ironically, there is something about health problems and worries that can do a person good.  My now 10 year old son has several chronic eye diseases, and nearly lost his sight at age 3.  So now when I run - and when I don't - I really look around and take in the sights.  From roadside flowers and fallen leaves to snow banks, there is beauty in the most simple scenery. 

And today, with a tiny little pea sized lump, I ran with energy, strength and power.

And I'll run again tomorrow.

Motherhood and Running - Perfectly Imperfect Together

Perfect.  I've come to really dislike that word.

I was the perfect child.  Rarely, if ever, in trouble, straight A's all the way through grad school.  Did as I was told and had the world at my doorstep.  Career planned out.  Oh I was going places. And those places would, no doubt, be perfect.

Then I became a mother.  Of three boys.  I imagined raising young boys of impeccable manners, eager to clean their rooms, help their mom and never say an unkind word to anyone, not even each other. 

I was going to have perfect children.  Just like me.

Well, children have a way of throwing all those visions out the window into a big steaming heap.  My sons are well mannered for the most part, but will eagerly laugh hysterically at the slightest hint of a burp or, as regularly happens in our house of 4 males, wind from the other end.  My goal of 3 well dressed boys in khakis and collared shirts?  I'm lucky if they have anything that isn't stained or ripped.  And right now with the growth rates we are experiencing, a pair of pants that isn't 3 inches above their ankles.

I've scaled back my expectations, and I've realized that that is a good thing.  My kids are happy and well adjusted, for the most part anyway. And the stress - though still there - has been reduced as I realize that my kids are their own selves and with a little guidance from hubby and me, will turn out just fine. Forget perfection.

Then last year I decided to take up running.  I've never been athletic but I decided I wanted to run.  I wasn't going to start at a short 5k (though I ran one - but it wasn't timed, so in my mind, it didn't count.)  Heck no.  I was going for a race with the word "marathon" in it.

And I was going to be the perfect runner, gosh darn it.  Just like I was going to be the perfect mother.

I did pretty well for my very first athletic accomplishment. I finished the half marathon in 2:23.  I was quite proud of myself for my first "official" race.  But I needed to go further.  I signed up for a marathon.  26.2 miles.

And I was going to run the perfect newbie marathon.  I had the shoes, the running skirt, the support of family and friends, and I'd done the training.  But it took me a long time.  A realllyyyy long time.  5 hours and 28 minutes.  I thought I could finish in less than 5, perhaps even 4:30, based on some of my better training runs.  But 26.2 miles is a heck of a long way, especially in bright 70 degree sunshine.  I did well for the first half but at about mile 21 I bonked and half walked/ran the rest of the way.  But I crossed the finish line upright and smiling.

I was proud of myself - but disappointed too.  I didn't run my "perfect" marathon - perfect by my standards any way.  I had different expectations for how I would feel at the end.  I was laughed at by someone who thought my time was slow, and told I was selfish for training for such a long time.  After all it took time away from my family - as if that was my only reason for existence, thank you very much.  I had great support from the Run Like a Mother community which made me feel so much better.  But still, part of me felt like I had failed.

Just like there are days when I feel like am failing as a mother.  You know those days, when the only way you can survive is to park the kids in front of the goggle box and lay on the couch.  Those days when you can not deal with one more argument, fight, spilled glass of milk, load of laundry or toilet to clean.

But running has put this whole experience in perspective.  When you run, you put one foot in front of the other and keep going.  There are days when you are slow, and days when you are fast.  There are days when you can't drag yourself out of bed and there are days when you hop out of bed and go straight to your happy place while putting on your running shoes.

Just like there are days when you can't stand motherhood, and then days when your kids tell you that you are beautiful and the best mom in the world.  You just have to put one foot in front of the other and keep on going, avoiding the legos strewn across the floor, of course.

So my visions of being the perfect mother, the perfect runner?  Replaced by visions - and reality - of being a mother runner who is doing her best.  Putting one foot in front of the other, the best - and only - way I can.