Little snow cyclones whipped across the road ahead of me as I blink, blink, blinked the tiny icicles from my eyelashes. I could feel brow-sicles forming above my eyes. I slowed to bat at my buff with my puffy mittens, trying to work it higher up my stinging face, and looked back at where my powdery running shoes had just blazed a trail. New snow had all but filled it in already. Alone on my parents’ silent country road, I stuck out my tongue, caught a snowflake, and restarted my shuffle, a grin frozen on my face.
The week before, I was bemoaning my lack of time and motivation to run – something I’ve done fairly regularly for 20 years. The birth of my second kid last year tipped the busyness scale. Weaning didn’t exactly agree with my body. I could feel the impending cold and dark of winter pressing down on me.
The last thing I felt I could do was run – so logically I decided to run every single day.
A run streak has only one rule: You run every day. Without time to rethink it, I joined the Runner’s World run streak, which has two rules: 1) You run every day from Thanksgiving to New Year’s, and 2) You run at least a mile a day.
I’m 21 days in. Twenty-one runs in. (Actually, 20 runs and two skis. I polled a group of family and friends, who voted unanimously that cross-country skiing is basically running on tiny sleds and is 100% legit. Don’t tell the other run streakers out there!) I run every day. It just happens. I fit it in. My husband directs the final act of the bedtime circus while I slide out into the dark – but not before my 4-year-old turns on my light-up running vest for me, picks the color of light she likes best that day, and waves me off from the window.
Amazingly, I’m not sick of it. I don’t dread it. The million things on my to-do list are still waiting for me when I get back, sure, but the endorphin boost helps me blow through them. Much less crabbily, too. I feel routine. I feel accomplished. I just feel…better.
At this point I’m pretty confident I can make it through 35 days straight of running. I’m also pretty confident on day 36 I’ll take a nice little break (and maybe get a massage… hint, hint, gift-givers). But I’ll know I can make time for myself. I’ll know my list of somewhat-valid excuses can step aside. I’ll know I can squeeze in the things that are important to me, however daunting it may seem. I’ll know my family has my back.
Last night, as my daughter flipped on my vest light, she asked, “Mama, are you going to run every day forever?”
“I don’t know,” I told her. “Maybe.” Then I gave her a kiss and stepped out into the snow.
