Running Away From My Kids

In a constant effort to get in my running time, and avoid my archenemy the treadmill, I decided to take my three kids with me to the track. I had visions of a nice four-mile run while the kids kept occupied on the sidelines happy to be there to cheer me on. What happened was anything but that. 

I drove over to Ridgewood to check out the new track they put in at one of the middle schools. Here I would be able to keep an eye on the kids as I ran laps. After parking and finding the entrance to the track, I found a spot for the kids to sit in the shade. I had loaded them up with enough electronic devices to keep them occupied for a nine-hour transatlantic flight. Surely this would keep them busy while I ran four miles. My daughter Haley, who had run the 5K with me, wanted to run too so she stretched to warm up. My other daughter Taylor asked how many laps I had to do and I said 16 thinking she would help me keep count, but instead she rolled her eyes, sighed and walked back to the shade. 

Haley ran the first three laps with me then gave up seeking comfort in the shade out of the cruel sun that was burning a hole in my back. Next my son Dylan though he would try it, and running in sandals, he raced me one time around. It was a very disadvantaged race as I never quickened my speed and he raced off ahead. He crossed the finish line and waited there to taunt me. He was there gloating that he beat Mommy and how fast he was. I did not have the energy, breath or care for that matter to tell him he ran one lap while I was on my eighth with eight more to go, so of course he would beat me. I let him have his little victory complete with a dance and all.

By lap 10, Taylor was standing at the line marker with a look on her face that I knew was going to produce a whining complaint when I passed, and sure enough there it was. “I’m bored, hot, tired. Can we leave? When are you going to be done?” I kept running only holding up eight fingers on my hands to show how many laps I had left. At lap 11, there she was again this time complaining louder and actually drowning out the music from my iPod. “Did you bring snacks? Dylan is bothering me. Can we go NOW?” I just held up seven fingers and kept on going. I was beginning to think that this was a bad idea as I made it to lap 12, because this time she had enlisted her brother to help compel me to stop this running nonsense and pay attention to them.

“How many more times? I have a scratch can you look at it now? I am hot, the shade doesn’t help.” Then Dylan decided to ask if he could have my water bottle because he dumped his. I shot him a look that if he touched my water he would be grounded for life and kept on running. With every passing lap I was attacked with whines instead of cheers. I was focusing on trying not to pass out from the heat made worse by the fact that the track had no shade except in the sidelines. The run was both tiring physically and mentally as I battled wanting to quit and the kids complaining. I wanted to run in the other direction just to get away from them, but sadly I knew they would follow. By my final lap I was so happy the run was over and I sprinted to the end. When I took off my iPod I was expecting cheers and congratulations but instead I got a collective “FINALLY.” We piled in the car and as we drove him with the AC on full blast, and my son asked me for the fifth time if he could have my water, I thought, “Maybe it is time I made up with my treadmill after all.”