I ran for thirty minutes today… and some.
Wrong place. Wrong time. Right place. Right time. Who knows? There was a glass or two of wine involved and before I know it I am one part of a relay team training for a marathon. Couch potatoes. All of us, but Louise did it, with cancer, two years ago so we we can do this for her.
And so, since mid January I have ventured out – at night mostly – and run. The first night we ran one minute, walked one minute, ran one minute, walked one minute… K wore a pair of my track pants because he didn’t own any of his own. The ‘couch’ part of ‘couch to 5k’ was no joke. Bad knees and compromised lungs we carried on and today we thought we would do our last run together as we completed the programme.
It went a bit pear shaped at the end. There was heavy rain involved and one of us being ahead of the other and hiding from the torrents in a doorway and only one phone and one house key between us. The end result was me taking off at pace down the quays to meet the Giraffe Princess from her dance class… late, still unsure where K had got too, but I was running. I could run. I could run for 30 minutes and then take off at pace and not be out of breath… and it feels good.
Tonight we all met, our relay team, to register for the marathon. There was wine involved and new friends… and we ate and drank and laughed and cried and registered.
Last September I went out to the hospital to be with Louise. I was there early so I popped over to the shopping centre across the road and bought myself a keyring to replace my broken keyring. Shortly after I got to the hospital the ambulance arrived to transport Louise to the hospice and she and I, and life as we knew it, were catapulted to a different existence and somewhere in the catapulting my new keyring got lost, but, in the scheme of things, that didn’t matter.
Today I found myself back at that shopping centre for the first time since September. I bought myself a keyring.
My brother and his wife had a baby a few months ago. There had been a pause in baby making in our family. My nephew arrived, a month early, on Laura’s due date back in 2009, but it has been quiet since then. Now there is a new child, and she is a girl in a family where girls are rare. Tomorrow is her christening. I am to be her godmother. Today my sister-in-law asked if I would like to call early to the house to help them dress her. I cried – a caught off guard, throat constricted cry – my heart unbound by my level headed mind.
It will be an honour. Thank you.
And the Boy Racer races on, his vehicles a steady rolling comfort in his life. Astro Boy climbs these days. One day his head and his body will meet in the clouds. The Giraffe Princess, our Lunar child, is a teenager now. her first disco was last night. I am an overnight expert on the dress code and social etiquette of teen discos. K did the collecting. He said she looked like a nun compared to the other girls. To anyone who knows the phenomenon of girls lack of attire at teen discos in Ireland these days (and maybe further afield. My crash course only covered Ireland) ‘nun’ is exactly what you want for your daughter. Long may it continue.
And there is much more, but for now, that is enough…
Happy Mother’s Day to all Mum’s everywhere of those who grow, and those who never will. May you know love and peace and light and hope and life… xx