Walking down the quiet street in the early morning light is tranquil. The only sounds are the dry crunch of the fallen leaves under my sneakers. The trees overhead are a splash of red and gold, and the air has the crisp smell of fall. My hair is pulled back in a bun as I start to pump my arms. It is time to get serious. For four blocks have been ambled casually but now as I search my iPod for techno tunes I am ready to run. As the beats begin to roll I start my stride.
It took four blocks to get motivated and four weeks of staring at the muffin top, I had developed while eating Pumpkin bars, to get me moving. Why is motivation so hard to obtain? As I pump my arms and legs to reach the next cross street the stress of the week begins to fall away. The truth is, I had been eating pumpkin bars, by the pan, because I was nervous about what people think of me. Sometimes a little ginger spiced square can feel like a hug from a really good friend, that is until you have to try something on in the dressing room at Target. What is wrong with the lights in that place? Do they have clown mirrors? It was after such an experience that I finally decided to get moving.
Still running on song two I feel my breath getting heavier. Come on, Dianne you can make it to the stop sign, don’t fail me now! It seems like I have done a lot of sprinting lately. Life hasn’t slowed down since the kids were born. The to-do list just keeps getting longer and the expectations have grown in proportion. As I jog I briefly remember the request for parents to bring baked goods today. Today? With an extra surge of energy, I focus instead on the fast approaching stop sign. Just 10 more feet!
Looking both ways before crossing I decide to continue. Maybe to outrun the parental demands on my life. Did I have any idea when I saw the two red lines on the home pregnancy test that I would have to crank out an endless supply of tasty and artful cupcakes for the next 18 years? Such thoughts suddenly make my pace quicken even more. I now believe I will be able to make the mile mark. The breath now making white steady clouds on my exhale I move with purpose now. Just down the lane, I will reach my destination. The decline on the hill helps my body as I start to feel the exhaustion of unconditioned couch potato legs.
Come on Dianne you can make it!
The thought of pumpkin bars seems like a foul mockery now as I struggle to get to the finish line, 50 yards, 10 yards, just a few more feet. Finally I make the goal. Victorious I slow down to a walk. The breath coming hard now as I turn around to make my way back up the hill. The cool air feels refreshing against my reddened face and perspiring brow.
Can I make it back? That is the problem with running, you have to pace yourself. At the turning point, you need enough endurance to get back home. Not sure if I can run back I walk slowly, contemplatively. Allowing my heart to come back down from pulsing in my ears, I started to sort out my baked goods predicament.
Well, I do have marshmallows and some rice squares. Yes, it is true, I am the no bake dessert mom. Memories of other mother’s Pinterest cupcake creations fill my mind for a moment, but in an effort to keep a slower pace I resolve to push the thoughts out of my mind.
Dianne, you can’t be any other mom, you have to just be you, the Rice Krispy treat you. The arrive at school one minute before the tardy bell in pajamas everyday you.
Taking in a deep breath, I begin to smile. If it wasn’t for all the everyday failings and faults I wouldn't be able to write this blog. With this fresh revelation, I start to jog and enjoy the wind as it hits my face and blows my hair around like the swirling leaves falling silently to the earth. Falling quietly away like the pressure I had been carrying on my shoulders to be someone else. A someone more grown up, better put together, a someone more acceptable. Instead, I pick up my pace to return to the little home full of three sleeping children and a Strongman.
The dog barks at my return to a new day, a new opportunity to live, to be, to stir and press into a 13x9 pan, to present to the world a common creation from a one of a kind mom.
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