Stolen Material..... Or I'm All Out of Original Posting Material

Last year a sweet friend of mine sent me a copy of this from the book, "Run Like a Mother."  

I wanted to share it because my same friend ran her first half marathon today and I'm so excited for her.

So, I bring you "If You Give A Mom A Pair Of Running Shoes and 40 Kid-Free Minutes" by Dimity McDowell...........

If you give a mom a pair of running shoes and 40 kid-free minutes, she's going to want to go for a run.

If she wants to go for a run, she'll need to put on a bra- a sports bra, preferably.

When she digs for her bra in a massive pile of dirty laundry, she'll spot her daughter's favorite must-wear-four-times-a-week starry shirt covered with glitter glue.  She'll head to the laundry room to drench the stains in Shout.

As she descends two flights to the basement laundry room, the phone will ring.

When the phone rings, she will check the caller ID.  She recognizes the number of an annoying mom of a whiny kid who can't seem to grasp the "play" part of "play date."  She lets it go to voicemail.

When she replaces the phone in the jack, she'll remember she didn't charge her iPod.  Oh well.

Continuing on to the laundry room, she will decide she should pee before she runs.  On the toilet, she will spy another sports bra, hanging on the bathroom doorknob.

When she see that sports bra, she'll bring it to her nose to see if it's clean or crusty from last week's run.  Lucky day:  It's clean. 

When she heads back up two flights to her room to get dressd, she'll spot a guaranteed no-leak sippy cup filled with tepid chocolate mild, spouting like a whate on the brand new rug she splurged on at Pottery Barn.

Whne she sees the brown blob, she'll drop the f-bomb, and then she'll be glad only the dog was around to hear.

After she flies back downstairs to get the carpet equivalent of Shout, she will douse the rug in chemicals not fit for inhalation by dogs or kids.  She cracks a window and hopes the stain and smell will be gone by the time she finisihes her run.

When she finally gets to her room to get dressed, she'll realize she doesn't remember where she put the bra.

As she runs back down the stairs, her left hamstring wil twinge.  So she throws her leg up on the kitchen counter and flops toward her toes in a falf-hearted attemp at flexibility.

When she stretches her hand around her foot, she will see that her watch reads 2:20, which leaves her exactly 20 minutes for hee 40-minute run.

She will swear again, then dart from room to room in search of the bra, get dressed, lace up her shoes, and sprint out the door.

And when she hits the road, she'll wonder why she's out of breath before she even started.