Friday, February 10, 2012

I may have dodged a bullet.  A bullet I'm not sure I really wanted to dodge.

I asked Little Meems recently if she wanted to run her school’s 5K together.  Just us girls.  Initially skeptical, she finally agreed.  She had been worried because “what if we
don’t win?”  Also, "but, Mom, you don't run?"

I am not a runner.  I think I would like to be.  Maybe.  Sometimes.  But mostly no.  Unless someone’s chasing me with a knife.  A really big knife.

My dad is a runner.  My sister is a runner.  They run marathons and half marathons.  Truthfully I think they are nuts.  My sister ran the Marine Corps marathon in 3:36.  She is a rock star.  Of course, after her first marathon -- cray-cray things happened to her body.  Let's just say the color magenta was involved.  Which isn't really appealing to me.  Ever.

So our race effort was about “I need a goal to get in shape and I'm also lazy and impatient so this is probably the fastest way” but also a way for me to connect with the Meems.  Her dad gets Indian Princesses to share with her.  I need something to share.  Just us Gurley girls.

The whole thing excited me and terrified me at the same time.  But I decided, I can do this.  I must do this.  For my daughter's sake, because by now she's SUPER excited for this race (and also because it means she gets new shoes -- which really is motivation unto itself, in my opinion).  But for my own sake too, because I love that little girl like crazy and I want her to be proud of herself, of me, and of us.  The team.

Turns out, it’s the same weekend as…Indian Princesses.  The big, not-to-be-missed-even-though-it’s-always-cold-or-raining-or-both campout. 

She’s bummed.  And I am too.  

Mostly because we don’t get our special just-girl thing.  And now I might actually have to go to the gym.  

So, now what?  She suggested finding another race.  So that's what I guess I'll do.  Although truthfully, she may have been more disappointed about the shoes than the missed mother-daughter bonding time.

Maybe the bullet wasn’t dodged after all.  And maybe, just maybe, I don't really want it to be.

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