I finished yesterday's post feeling a bit like a sunshiny Pollyanna. A Malibu Barbie with every duck lined up neatly in a row. Today I am writing to set the record straight.
While I know I am very fortunate in many ways and have enough perspective to laugh at myself when I whine, I have plenty of whiny days.
I feel too in demand by my kids most days. And parenting is tough and some of the time I, frankly, don't think I'm very good at it. I am incapable of keeping on top of the clutter and the laundry. I have too much on my plate and that leads to a feeling of disorganization and overwhelm. Some days I can't see the forest for the trees and other days can't see the trees for the forest. I forget to be happy and in the moment far too often. I forget to rely on others. I don't often see my friends and miss them. I haven't seen a movie in the theatre (Disney doesn't count) in more years than I have fingers on one hand. I don't know what I want to be when I grow up. I still miss my mother, especially when I am sick or sad. I'm my toughest critic. There are not enough hours in my days to be a good partner and good mother and good CEO and good runner, forget reading fiction or swimming or playing or making pottery or drawing or dancing or traveling or happily sleeping late or practicing piano or listening to music or sitting quietly on the beach or or or.
But I run. And running takes me away and grounds me at the same time. It puts me squarely in the moment. Like few other moments in my life, it offers tangible opportunities to view improvement, success, and the results of hard work.
And so I run.
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