Group Runs

You’re not alone…

This is the honest-to-goodness packing list I ran through in my head on Saturday night while preparing to run a half-marathon on Sunday morning.

Running shoes, tank top, shorts, socks, sports bra, visor, and race bib…

Shoes for playing outside, two extra cloth diapers, wet bag (for cloth diapers), wipes, Freddie the Firefly toy, truck toy, tractor toy…

Banana, protein bar, water bottle, graham crackers…

Sippy bottle with water, sippy bottle with formula, pureed baby food pouch, Cheerios, graham crackers, spoon, bib…

Bag with a change of clothes to check at the race start, wallet, phone…

Diaper bag for all the baby equipment, car seat, and baby carrier.

The funniest part of this scenario is that the baby didn’t even join me at the race! I packed his supplies ahead of time on Saturday night to ensure that when I left at 6a.m. Sunday morning for the race, my husband would have everything he needed to care for our son ready to go.

Running has transformed into a team sport. I understand this is a “first-world complaint”, a phrase I have grown fond of using for most all of my complaints these days. Let’s be clear - I have a lovely family, a sturdy home, food, clothing, etc. I stay at home full-time with my son, writing and working on marketing consulting projects and in general living a life easier than so many parents across the globe. So this whining will remain brief. I share these points for the benefit of all the other running parents who smack their heads in unison with me as we wonder, “Why is such a simple sport so freakin’ hard to coordinate!?!”

Running once you have had a child boils down to one of three scenarios. If I’m not packing his supplies, I’m packing the child in the stroller. If I am packing neither, I am briefing my husband on the details of baby operating standards to help him help me get in a run before he has to go to work, or before he wakes up on a weekend morning, or whenever I can slip out undetected.

Runs with a stroller include stopping to make sure we have enough shade over our eyes, snacks and toys at arms reach, and to respond to various baby hollers and quacks coming from the passenger in charge. I’m like a rickshaw driver awaiting directions from a drunk passenger, it’s a mess.

Runs without a stroller often include leaving the house wearing whatever clothing was nabbed in the dark, or in a one-handed snatch-and-grab operation while holding a baby with the other arm. Sometimes it looks like I am fleeing the scene rather than running for enjoyment. When I have the foresight to lay out my clothes ahead of time, there is usually an item missing that will be abandoned for the sake of the run.

As a team sport, it takes the effort and teamwork of not one individual, but three, to make a simple run just that. I will continue to run, because it provides a continuous plot point from which a large part of my life’s story is shaped. It’s just that, if you see me running down the street with hair flying unkempt behind me, with a wild look and a sock or two missing, please don’t mention it.