Labour of Love

A lot can happen in a year.

Just over one year ago, (one year and 3 days, to be exact) I gave birth to a brand new baby.  We named him Oliver.  He is the third little ray of sunshine in our lives.  After a few short hours of labour, (the ultimate in marathons) we held his helpless little life in our arms.  I vowed that I would never again complain about the pain of a long run, as nothing compares to the endurance needed to have a baby.  Nine months of training lead up to that day.  Remembering to breath is important.  Proper fuelling is important.  Having a good coach is important.  Mental preparation and visualization is important.  Doing whatever it takes to get through it is important.  Now, I know, races aren’t the same as childbirth, yah, yah.  But come on and agree with me on this…That euphoric feeling of stepping on the timing mats at the end of a marathon erases much of that pain, doesn’t it?  Kind of like holding that tiny little beautiful baby in one’s arms.  It makes it all feel so worth the pain.

Race medals don’t wake up in the night for feedings.  Or need countless diaper changes.  I guess that is where the parallels end.

Over the last year I have been working toward gaining my pre-baby running shape.  I feel so lucky to have the race of a lifetime (by now we all know I mean Boston, right?) as a culmination of the long road of running I have been on since about 2 weeks after Oliver was born last year.

Happy Birthday to my little Olly.