Overachiever - the life of a mom

For the past month, I have been sick.  Sinus infection, bronchitis, flu, the pneumonia.  Yup- wonderful!  

Because of all the germ visitors I have had, it has been hard to make it to visit my beloved friend the "dreadmill".  To sum it up when you can't breathe - you can't run.

But then last week I had a bit of a spurt.  I have made it four times.  One day I can ever kicked butt.  But then, then came yesterday.  

It had (for no reason in particular) been a bit of a long day with the gaggle of children I have.  Just bits of bickering and nothing accomplished.  I was so frustrated.  Instead of drowning my sorrows in Girl Scout Tagalongs - I loaded them up for a late afternoon run.  I put on my bright green Savannah Half Marathon shirt, some leggings and off we went!

It was a great first 20 minutes.  Dave Matthews was singing right to me, the world was mine to own.  Then he showed up.  

All muscles, the agility of a large gazelle - he was a machine.  And even though there was 50 open treadmills, he has to come right.next.to.me!  Seriously, did he really need that ego boost for the day?

Anyway, I did great keeping up with him.  Although I am sure that my leggings riding up, my shorts bunching up and the sweat poring down my tired face did not give the appearance that the hulk and I were in the same zone.  

Feeling well accomplished (even if in my own mind), I departed the treadmill and headed downstairs to "stretch" (which is really code for checking facebook on my phone while sitting on a mat).  

I was downstairs when I ran into a fellow mom from school.  You know the kind of mom who always says what is on her mind no matter what?  I have been told that I, "look like hell, did you just crawl out of bed, I can't believe you made it here."  All by the same mom.  Meeting her after my successful treadmill encounter was torture. 

Pleasant hellos were first.  Then, just like I thought, came the bombshell.  She looked at my shirt (the one I earned for completing my first half marathon under my projected time).  Then from her mouth came the line, "did you actually finish that race?  I wouldn't peg you to be able to do that."

I was in shock. No, I really wasn't.  I did a half pivot turn to flip my ponytail her way and with a sly, yet cutesy, voice I replied, "yup, I finished - I know, I think I am a bad ass too." 

Instead of walking casually away, I skipped the entire way out of the gym.  

Source: google.nl via Dawn on Pinterest

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