INAUGURAL RUN by Kelly McAtee Mother's Day Graphic Carol Goodrow Kelly McAtee and family At the end of the day, I smiled. The first three weren't nearly as difficult- put them in the jogger at eight weeks, strap on the sunglasses and hat, and resume the running routine I had just forgone for nine, long months. Easy. It had worked every time. I counted on this, after all. I am a runner and I need to run- plain and simple. I followed the rules of pregnancy, taking my vitamins, eating healthy foods, walking regularly, etc. I did my part. So, Cy, my sweet, eight-week-old infant, now it's time to do your part- sit quietly in the jogger while Mommy runs. I bought a great running stroller with lots of pockets, a dual shock system, drink holders, extra large canopy. You name it, and it has it. Nothing was going to interfere with my first two mile ease-back-to-the-road celebration. If Cy needed a bottle, it was there. If I needed water, it, too, was ready and waiting. A place for diapers and wipes? Of course. Even a small stash of poop-n-scoops for our dog, Bogey. The jogger was equipped for a week-long adventure in any kind of inclement weather. I was ready. I slipped on my running shorts, top, and brand new shoes, donning a smile of both anticipation and pride. I tucked my hair into a baseball cap, slapped on some sunscreen and felt like a real woman. I envisioned the warmth beating down on my face, and the beads of sweat accumulating on my forehead and chest. I couldn't wait. I was about to resume my heart and soul's life source- a serene run among April's flowers. Yes, that's right. I just gave birth and now I'm back on the road, ready to run like the true runner I am. Or so I thought. I asked my 11-year-old son, Collin, to come along. He's a natural athlete, soccer being his forte, but an outstanding runner, too. He said, "Sure, Mom", and ran upstairs to change. Collin is my firstborn and was a model jogger companion from day one. He took to the running stroller like peanut butter takes to jelly, sitting contentedly as I pushed him through the Arizona sunshine for miles on end. By age three, he'd ditch his one year old sister, in our then double-jogger, to run alongside Mom, Dad, and our two labs- a natural runner in the making. Now, at age 11, he can keep pace for any distance, often challenging me to go further. We opened the front door and clumsily maneuvered the running stroller onto the sidewalk, careful to prevent any of our "necessities" from falling out. Collin smiled and shook his head incredulously. I knew what he was thinking, Is all this really necessary? Maybe not, but nothing was going to interfere with my return to running. I was determined. Cy sat in the jogger, brows furrowed, and fists clenched. He was the epitome of cute - his sweet little body sitting in the deep folds of his new running stroller. He gazed ahead, like me, prepared to embark on the first of many runs we'd take together. Collin asked, "Ready, Mom?", and with a subtle nod, we pressed onward. With a slight breeze in my face, I could feel my heart rate climb and my muscles struggle to reorient themselves. I listened to my feet hit the pavement and the sound of my breathing intensify. A feeling of deep satisfaction began to swell within me. I was back. The turn onto the running path is only .2 miles from our home, but it was here that Cy began to twitch his shoulders and stretch his neck like a newborn giraffe- subtle indications of what was about to unfold. I sensed his pending frustration and began to run faster- perhaps thinking the speed would squelch his irritation, or just maybe I could accomplish at least .3 miles on my first postnatal run. I don't know. Initially, there was a whimper and then a mumbled cry, followed by a piercing scream ... a scream that unarguably says, Get me out of this uncomfortable baby trap. I'm sick of looking at bushes! I came to a halt and told Collin to stop, apologizing for interrupting our run so quickly. "No problem," he said. I tended to Cy, picking him up and rocking him, trying to pique his interest in the beautiful scenery surrounding us. Eventually he calmed down, and I tested fate by putting him back in the jogger. I looked at Collin and said, "Let's try again." Kelly We began to run a second time, getting a little further- about a half-mile. Nevertheless, Cy, still discontented by the whole act of running, began to fuss louder and louder. Again, I picked him up, holding him on his back to see the trees while tenderly rocking his 11 pound frame. Collin watched quietly. I walked slowly telling him about the beautiful flowers, squirrels, and trees. I told him about running and how wonderful it is for the body and the mind. I told him about the creativity it fosters in people and the problems it helps you to solve. I told him about the wonderful places it can take you to, and how great it is for relationships. Cy got quiet and even seemed relaxed. I kissed his forehead and gently sat him back in the jogger, careful to strap him in and support his head. I glanced at Collin, "Ready to try this again?" He looked over at me, the corner of his mouth tilted upwards, and replied, "I feel privileged to run with you, Mom, on your first day out." And everything changed...in an instant. At times, running satisfies our need for exercise and energy expenditure. It fulfills a void we don't receive from our daily jobs and acts as an outlet for pent-up frustration ... and maybe that's what I was searching for. Instead, though, on this inaugural run post-pregnancy, I learned a poignant lesson from my eleven-year-old son. Running is more than exercise. Running feeds the soul. E-mail the editor at KidsRunning.Com with comments on this article. kidsrunning@verizon.net