I listen to the pounding of my feet against the ground and the inhale and exhale of my breath. One arm is gently swinging back and forth in rhythm with the beat of my shoes on the ground. The other arm is stretched out, hand carefully grasping the handle of a stroller.
As I propel the stroller along we sneak in and out of shadow, in and out of sunlight. I look down at my son snuggled into the stroller, eyes closed tightly against the sun, arm wrapped around the toy we brought along for the ride. His lips and chubby cheeks gently bounce along with the wheels of the stroller as we glide over cracks and bumps. He is so content. He learned to love the movement before he was even born, to nap to the gentle sway of a body in motion.
I feel it inside me. I know this is what I was meant to be, both a runner and a mom. I feel it at the core of my being, to the inner most depths of my soul. I was meant to do this. My body somehow was made for both of these things, so different but in some way connected. I am a runner. I am a mom. This was meant to be, meant for me. This is what I’m meant to do.
Linking up with Ashley: