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Broke Wife, Big City
I’m running
away from home
By Aprill Brandon
If you would have asked me 10 years ago what I saw myself doing in the
future, arguing for 23 minutes with a toddler about appropriate places
to poop would have been fairly low on the list (which, by the way, the
bathtub, Momma’s bed and the dairy aisle at the grocery store all equal
Not Appropriate for any of you toddlers out there reading this).
Winning the Pulitzer Prize, divorcing Orlando Bloom so I could marry
Ryan Reynolds, sailing on a fancy boat with a clever name like Ship For
Brains; all of these answers would have probably come tumbling out of
my mouth (No, YOU were a delusional 25-year-old!).
Even jail wouldn’t have been too outlandish an answer (No, YOU have
issues with authority!).
But running on a trail with actual running shoes when nothing was
chasing me and/or I wasn’t trying to make it to the liquor store before
it closes? That wouldn’t have even made it ON the list.
Running for fun? Pffft. In my book, those two things are mutually
exclusive. Much like, say, a delicious vegan meal or a funny Kevin
James movie.
And yet, here I am, sweaty and gross and begrudgingly emitting an aura
of health because I just got done with a run. A run I did ON PURPOSE.
It all started because after I had my second baby my body was 80
percent mush. And, to be honest, I’m not really comfortable in my own
skin when I’m above 75 percent bodily mush. So, as much as I hated it,
I gritted my teeth and ran (well, did a weird walk/sad jog hybrid
before working my way up to my current level of just a sad jog).
But then a funny thing happened. I started to look forward to these
runs. So much so, in fact, that I was actually willing to do them at 6
a.m., watching the sun rise while my perky ponytail swished back and
forth like I’m goddamn Kate Hudson in some rom-com. Not because I
started to like to run. Oh god, no. It’s the worst. But because that 45
minutes hoofing it around the park gave me an escape from my kids.
I love my kids. Of course I do. You know I do. Just like I know you
love your kids. Children are amazing human beings we occasionally want
to murder.
And so that we don’t murder them, we do insane things like literally
run away from home (albeit temporarily).
The best part is that even though my main motivation while running is
that at some point I will stop running, all this exercise is helping me
get back to myself. To the person I was before I considered a trip to
Target by myself as a luxurious vacation.
It’s easy to lose yourself in the demands of parenthood. To remember
that you are not just a glorified sippy cup re-filler and breathing
boob milk dispenser. Having children changes you to your very core but
it doesn’t erase your former self. That person is still in there,
waiting to come out occasionally so they can look around and say “why
the hell are we running?”
Running helps me remember that I’m a complex person with interests
outside achieving the perfect brown color on a grilled cheese sandwich.
And on the other end of the spectrum, although I have yet to feel that
mythical runner’s high, I have experienced what I call “cranial radio
static.” This is when your brain just stops and there’s no thought;
just music and pavement and your feet going one in front of the other
and heavy breathing and chaotic jiggly butt movement. And as a mom and
a writer and a woman who keeps up with the news in 2016, anything that
helps you turn off your brain even for a short while is a miracle.
But most importantly, now that I have kids, I want to be healthy enough
that I live forever. I want to be the unbelieveably old lady with the
leather face that says wildly inappropriate things at Christmas about
losing her virginity and terrifies her infant great-grandchildren
because she looks like the Crypt Keeper and sounds like Marge Simpsons’
sisters. But she don’t care. Cause she lived through both 9/11 and the
Kardashians.
Can’t get enough of Aprill? Can’t wait until next week?
Check out her website at http://aprillbrandon.com/
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