A Different Sort of Marathon

Yesterday, while top athletes who had traveled to my fair city from around the world ran 26.2 miles?

I… got out of BED!!!!

I… took off the PJs I had been wearing for 36 hours straight and GOT DRESSED!

I… FED my kids!

I… LEFT THE HOUSE to take Jacob to Hebrew School (the new pilot Special Ed inclusion program our synagogue started JUST FOR HIM – more on that soon) and got him there ON TIME! (Well, almost – only 3 minutes late, a world record.)

I may not be running in THE marathon, but I am running a sort of marathon in my life. The kind each and every special needs parent out there knows down to their bones. (And many plain old garden variety parents do, too.)

It’s the slogging through the day-in-and-day-out of caring for and about our special kids. It’s all that we do when we’re with them (talking and playing and supporting and scaffolding and watching and pushing them gently and coaching and coaching and coaching and holding our frustrations in check, smiling when we want to yell or sob; and, for some of us, taking care of their every physical need even though they have not been an infant for a decade or more; and, for some of us, wrapping our arms and legs around them tightly, enduring bruises and worse until the storm passes so they don't injure themselves or their siblings.)

And it's all that we do when we’re not with them (phone calls and meetings and research and more phone calls and strategizing and worrying and IEP meetings and phone calls to lawyers and more research and reports to read and reports to write and applications to fill out that make us weep as we list for the thousandth time all the milestones our kids missed and when we first noticed they were different and what we did about it.)

On a day like yesterday, when herculean feats are being celebrated all over the city, it's easy for me to slip into negative judgements of myself and my lack of lofty achievements.

I have been slipping in and out of a low level depression since last winter; some days, weeks, months closer to the light, others falling into shadow's embrace.

I need to go gentle with myself. To remember that getting out of bed and showering CAN be herculean in itself, when the tug to just disappear under the covers is strong and seductive.

My marathon is different, not less, than the one those glorious beings ran through the streets of New York yesterday.

And I need to run it every day.

And possibly for the rest of my life, if Jacob is never ready to launch.

And I am a different sort of champion.

And this can be enough.

For me, enough.

I am linking this post up to Be Enough Me Mondays over at the wonderful Just. Be. Enough.

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SOC Sunday: Ambition

All I can say is... thank goodness for Stream of Consciousness Sundays during this here NaBloPoMo month. Five minutes? I can do today. Here goes:

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I live in New York City. That means, on a normal day, there is always someone doing something more interesting, fantastic, and ambitious than I am.

And today was no ordinary day, it was the New York City Marathon, when type A personalities from all over the world descend on my city and run like the wind.

By the time I prodded my bleary self out of bed and sorted out the kids? Runners were already waiting at the foot of the Verazano Bridge in Staten Island ready to make the 26.2 mile trek thought the city to end in my 'hood in Central Park.

I was going right near there this morning, needing to deposit Jacob at Hebrew School yards from the park at 10. The city was eerily both bustling and empty, the sidewalks more full than the streets, cars and cabs heeding the snarled traffic warnings and steering well clear of the marathon route.

When I got home I Tweeted and Facebooked a version of this message: 

I've gotten 1 son off to Hebrew School & fed them both, but still have yet to shower. Meanwhile? People have already won the NYC marathon. Possibly they are more ambitious than I?

And I got a lot support. I was joking. But also? A wee part of me felt bad for not being out there handing out Gatorade and waving, shouting encouragement to those crazy brave and ambitious souls.

Especially the autism awareness runners, including my friend Jess's husband Luau who came in from Boston and ran with his hair dyed BLUE for autism awareness. No not kidding - look:

Today the weather was perfect for a run. Records were broken. Ethan and I watched on TV and cheered the winners on, happy to be type B armchair athletes in our warm, sunny apartment.

And yes, I got my shower.

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New to SOCS?  It’s five minutes of your time and a brain dump.  Want to try it?  Here are the rules…

• Set a timer and write for 5 minutes only.
• Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spell-checking. This is writing in the raw.

You can do it, too!  Click on the picture link and let's hear your 5 minutes of brilliance...

Looking for comments? To read or leave a comment, click on THIS post's title, or HERE, to bring you to the post's page view. Comments should appear below.