Footnotes: Mother of a run

Mark and I were sitting on the couch last night when he turned to me and asked:

"What would you like to do tomorrow for Mothers Day?"

My answer was simple and monosyllabic: Run.

"Besides run," he said.

"Just run," I replied.

Now, before you chastise me before not milking the heck out of my first Mothers Day, I will tell you this: I had already made brunch reservations at Granite City where caramel rolls, mojitos and parmesan hashbrowns would await me. The only thing I wanted was to fit in a run before that.

And a run I got. A very special run.

Not because of the crazy hair, either.

This morning, I had the opportunity to run solo. No dog. No stroller. Not even a husband. It was just me, my Nikes, RoadID, MOTOACTV and the road. (Not as romantic sounding when you put it that way ...)

It was a bit weird that the one thing I wanted for Mothers Day was to be nowhere near the things that define that role but it was exactly what I needed. For 6.12 miles, I thought about nothing but what I was doing and how I was feeling - not whether the dog was going to lunge for the goslings or whether Miles finally fell asleep. I took my time exploring a new-to-me part of the trail, taking note of the shape of the tree trunks and the bends in the river. I took deep breaths and slow steps and enjoyed every step of me time.

I would have liked to go a bit farther - especially as I haven't run more than 6 miles since the Martian Invasion half-marathon - but brunch reservations and a day of family awaited. And that was OK. Mostly because there were raspberry mojitos involved but also because as much as I resist the traditional heartfelt sayings about motherhood, I do enjoy that little bugger and the surprises he brings each day.