In the last few days leading up to my First Marathon, I accompanied The Littlest, and his Kindergarten class on their very first field trip.
his first time on a school bus
We went to the Pioneer Settlement to visit stinky animals, watch a blacksmith at work and make long treks back and forth to the bathrooms. My legs and feet, already a bit stiff and sore from marathon training, were not enjoying the constant walking and standing. I transformed into : Lazy Parent Who Sits While Others Stand.
(I'm not sure if that was previously a "thing", but it is now)
proof. See my vantage point?
Any twinges of guilt were short-lived. I was still participating in and performing the necessary chaperone duties. There was just no need for me to be a martyr about it and sacrifice my well-worked legs, right before the race.
These types of situations have come up before, and will continue to do so.While running and racing most definitely do not come first in my life, I am passionate about them. Balancing running/motherhood/marriage/life naturally comes with plenty of difficult decision and overwhelming guilt. Here's how something like this boils down, for me, enough to let me sleep at night :
Will I skip an opportunity to accompany my children on a class trip, due to a race? Never
Will I be ashamed that I am sitting on my bum for the majority of said event? Absolutely not
Funny tidbit from that morning :
The sweet little girl, in my son's class, begging the guy in charge of the animals to let her pet "that really pretty chicken, in the back".
that IS a pretty chicken, indeed!
The poor man was mostly successful in his attempt to not laugh, while explaining how the peacock had snuck in the coop.
I was reminded of that fun day when I went with The Middlest to his class trip, today. We rode those fancy, yellow buses out to The Marine Science Center.
me, sneakily breaking the "no food on the bus" policy. No need to expose the group to my ever-so-delightful Hungry Runner mood
Neither of us had been, before, and it was very informative and hands-on. Good combo for second-graders.
the group I was in charge of. My son, appropriately, in the middle
Once again, instead of inwardly groaning about my sore feet, in regards to this weekend's race, I plopped myself down at every possible opportunity. Judge all you want, but I am a-okay with this decision. I still kept kids in line, pet snakes, opened juice boxes, iced boo-boos and dutifully transformed into a human, sweat and drool-covered pillow. Everyone won.
"Mr. B, that turtle won't stop hugging the other one!"
PS : Upon reflection, I'm pretty sure the school has been plotting to sabotage my recent races.