I ran with the jogging stroller today. For those of yo u who are unfamiliar, a jogging stroller (jogger) is an expensive piece of equipment ostensibly designed to push your child around while still getting in a run. In reality, it is a slightly more stable, three-wheeled version of a regular stroller that gets harder to push exponentially with every pound your toddler gains.
I had to bribe my daughter with a trip to the park to get her into the stroller. The big park with the nice playground is only a small detour from my regular three mile route. Of course, my regular three mile route contains two hills, one of which I consider "significant".
It wasn't so bad at first; I had my own little cheering section. "Faster, Mama!", "We're going fast!". Of course, she turned into the peanut gallery halfway up the first hill, "Are you still running, Mama?". No, Gemma Claire, I am not still running. We got to the park without incident, despite the City of Vancouver's penchant for curving sidewalks around trees and offset curb ramps. I think my jogger needs an alignment. Who knew running with a stroller would end up as a great forearm workout?
The park was a welcome break, though I wouldn't necessarily call tearing through a playground after an exuberant two-and-a-half year old, a rest. I wore my running skort, and the synthetic fabric was not a great combination with the composit slides that Gemma insisted on sliding down with me. She's got a mean accusing glare that she would bust out each time I would shock her with the built up static electricity. Such indignation looks good on my daughter, I have to admit.
The run home was a lot harder, not even counting the inevitable "I don't want to leave the park" tantrum. As a fellow runner recently pointed out, the best part of running is being done with the run. An hour break in the middle gives the body a little false hope. But, we made it home in one piece, and I'm proud of myself for running today, no matter how short a distance. (Though I'm considering doubling the mileage for my running log as a sort of bonus for pushing the stroller. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to pick wood chips out of my socks.
I had to bribe my daughter with a trip to the park to get her into the stroller. The big park with the nice playground is only a small detour from my regular three mile route. Of course, my regular three mile route contains two hills, one of which I consider "significant".
It wasn't so bad at first; I had my own little cheering section. "Faster, Mama!", "We're going fast!". Of course, she turned into the peanut gallery halfway up the first hill, "Are you still running, Mama?". No, Gemma Claire, I am not still running. We got to the park without incident, despite the City of Vancouver's penchant for curving sidewalks around trees and offset curb ramps. I think my jogger needs an alignment. Who knew running with a stroller would end up as a great forearm workout?
The park was a welcome break, though I wouldn't necessarily call tearing through a playground after an exuberant two-and-a-half year old, a rest. I wore my running skort, and the synthetic fabric was not a great combination with the composit slides that Gemma insisted on sliding down with me. She's got a mean accusing glare that she would bust out each time I would shock her with the built up static electricity. Such indignation looks good on my daughter, I have to admit.
The run home was a lot harder, not even counting the inevitable "I don't want to leave the park" tantrum. As a fellow runner recently pointed out, the best part of running is being done with the run. An hour break in the middle gives the body a little false hope. But, we made it home in one piece, and I'm proud of myself for running today, no matter how short a distance. (Though I'm considering doubling the mileage for my running log as a sort of bonus for pushing the stroller. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to pick wood chips out of my socks.