Training for the Marathon of Motherhood

In Central Park on any given Saturday and Sunday morning you will find the Die Hards. I call them Die Hards because if you’re up for a jog at 7:30AM on a weekend in the city that never sleeps, then you must be a committed runner. Either that or just insane. The Die Hards come in all shapes and sizes and can be segmented into two types of runners: 

Type #1: Those for whom the morning jog appears effortless. They barely break a sweat, hair remains perfectly coifed, and they’re grinning from ear to ear. Let’s call them the gazelles.
Type #2: Those for whom the morning jog appears to be pure torture. They sweat profusely, cheeks are bright red, and they’re breathing heavily the entire time. Let’s call them the elephants.

Last Sunday as my running partner-in-crime Nick and I did our usual lap around the park, we were passed by gazelles and ran by a few elephants, and my thoughts began to wander yet again. If motherhood is analogous to running, then am I an elephant or a gazelle?

The answer was very easy– I am definitely an elephant. One would think that as my son gets older I too should be getting better at being his mommy. And some days, I do see my progress (I can change a diaper quite well now!). But then I see the mothers who just seem to make it look so easy and I have a crisis of confidence. And this leads to me second guess every decision I make as a mom and question how well my son and I are bonding. This is just a sample of the myriad of thoughts that go through my head: 

I can’t make him smile.
I have been demoted to food provider status because being back at work means I’m pumping or I’m running home for a feeding at lunch and then racing back to work.
He doesn’t want to cuddle or snuggle with mommy.
Am I doing any of this right? Is his bath water too warm or too cold? Does he need saline solution or a humidifier for his congestion? Does he have enough clothes on? Is he too hot or too cold? Am I talking to him enough? Does he still need to be swaddled at night? 

My crises of confidence not only cause internal stress but also make me really dislike/resent the gazelles. You know who I’m talking about…those mothers that seem to be able to do it all so effortlessly. I’ve seen them lift the stroller with one finger, and never even break a sweat lugging their baby around. Mostly I envy that they know exactly what to do to make their baby smile and coo and know how to soothe and console them perfectly when needed. 

What gives me comfort me tonight are my own experiences as a runner because I believe motherhood is like a marathon. And you just don’t become a good marathon runner overnight. You need lots and lots of miles and training under your belt. So, I’m only going to get better as a mom with more runs (practice, time, hard lesson learned) and some days I will run faster than others (there are always better days between baby and mommy). Luckily, it’s not a sprint – there are 26.2 miles of running and learning. That means it’s okay if I don’t get every lap (day) right, so long as I stay the course and cross the finish line. Completing a marathon also requires inner strength, endurance, and determination. As a new mom, I survive on little sleep, lonely days, lots of worry and self doubt, but I endure. I stay the course because I must try to be the best mother I can be for my little boy. No matter how hard it gets, it is always worth it for him. Training for a marathon is also best done with a partner. There is no way I’d be up on a Sunday morning, being a Die Hard, if it weren’t for Nick. Just as my running partner gets me out of bed, every new mom needs someone to talk to and help them through the ups and downs of parenting (in addition to your husband or partner). In my case, I have found talking to other new moms is the most helpful. Most importantly, while the 26.2 miles of the run may be grueling and painful, there is no better feeling than crossing that finish line. Years from now, when my son is all grown up, only then will I cross that finish line, and I will know that I made an impact in someone’s life. I made a difference – he will be my contribution, my medal, for crossing that finish line. 

I may never be a gazelle – it may always be hard and I will definitely make mistakes as I run the marathon of motherhood. But, whether I look good or not, I won’t stop trying (training) to be a better mom. Happy Running!