I’m 38-years-old. I have four children, all boys, and my oldest is now a teenager. I should know better. Really. But sometimes I have to really live and learn, just like my kids.
This weekend, I participated in our town’s Applefest. It’s just a simple fall festival, where we celebrate the harvest season and all the blessings that come with it. As an active member in my community, I volunteer for a bunch of different things – or maybe the correct phrase to use is that I get roped into a bunch of different things. Anyway, I digress.
I’ve been doing some running/walking/jogging/moving/whatever-you-want-to-call-it for quite some time. With my summer softball season and everything else that’s been going on, I figured I was in shape enough for a 3-mile run. I was kind of right, and kind of wrong.
To begin with, the run was called the Applefest Rainbow Run. They had five or so dye stations, where you were able to decide if you wanted dye thrown at you or not. It was a great event, tons of fun, and I actually crossed the finish line – and wasn’t passed by anyone walking. A win in my book!
The funniest part about the whole event was that my oldest son was manning one of the dye stations. As I was nearing his station, he was being very supporting and cheering me on, telling me I could do it! I felt like our parent roles were reversed, and he was giving me the support that I usually give him. It made my heart sing and my legs move a little faster. (Little did I know that shortly after I left that station, he looked at the people around him and said, “Yeah, she’s not gonna make it.” LOL! Now that’s the teenager I know and love…and grounded.)
Well, I crossed the finish line, helped with the kids’ race, and then had to shower to get a float ready for the parade. Then I wrangled 14 5- and 6-year-olds, drove them pulling a trailer in the parade, emceed an event and a variety of other little things. By the time I was ready for bed that night, my legs were screaming at me.
And so the next morning I spent 2 ½ hours in a vehicle, driving to see my 11-year-old play football in a college dome. He did an amazing job and his team won, 12-6!
And then we drove the 2 ½ hours home.
And then I tried to get out of the vehicle.
And then something hit me – hard. I’m not 25.
Needless to say, every muscle and joint in my body has been hurting. But it’s a good hurt. The kind that reminds you that you have accomplished something. I just need to be sure to recover, give myself a little TLC, and next time – in two weeks or so – I need to make sure that I spend a little more time stretching after the race, and a little less time in a vehicle.
I can’t wait!