My baby boy turned one this week. And it made me sentimental, about not only how fast the time goes, but also feel proud. Proud of me.
Too often, I think negatively about my running abilities. I had a few mornings this week where I stopped to walk, because I was hot or tired. I bemoaned how my speed still hasn't picked up since the baby was born, and if anything, I have gotten slower this time around. I groaned about my diastasis recti, angry that I still have it, and the back pain that comes with it.
But on GM's first birthday, I suddenly felt grateful and proud. Grateful that I've been able to run consistently since having him. Grateful that I can bring him along on a stroller run. Grateful that I can get outside for alone time on mornings when my days are jam packed and filled with family. And proud - proud that despite everything going on in my life and all the change the past year, I'm still here, still running.
Here's how the week went - and spoiler alert, I was still running:
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