As I reached the top of the hill, the finish line appeared ahead, shimmering in the distance. The scorching June sun beat down on the asphalt, making each step feel like I was traversing a desert. Sweat trickled down my back as I approached the end of my first 5K, repeating my mantra of “Left, Right, Repeat” to keep myself moving. When I finally neared the finish, I spotted my partner and kids cheering me on, and my heart swelled with pride, knowing they were witnessing my dedication to an achievement I had worked hard to reach.
I crossed the finish line, breathless and panting, turning to locate my family. My partner caught my gaze, and my son shouted, “Awesome job, Mom! Just so you know, you didn’t win!” This brought laughter from the onlookers, highlighting the candid honesty of children.
I discovered running later in life. While I participated in track during high school, my aspirations of becoming an Olympic champion faded when I realized the commitment that required. After college, my activity level decreased until I became a mother in my late 20s. I soon understood that my post-pregnancy hips needed more than just a few stair runs to fit into my yoga pants long-term.
Luckily, my community offered a fantastic program focused on women’s health and wellness, culminating in the completion of a 5K race. At that moment, running three miles seemed far more appealing than dealing with toddler tantrums and potty training! Thus, I found myself shivering alongside other women who were just as nervous as I was on a chilly Tuesday evening in March.
During our first workout, I won’t sugarcoat it: my body jiggled in places I hadn’t realized existed, and I huffed and puffed like a cartoon character. It was quite embarrassing, but as weeks passed, I formed bonds with several participants and kept showing up, primarily because we shared a common language of four-letter words during our struggles. I finally felt like I had found my tribe.
Over the next 12 weeks, I committed to the program. I carved out time for my “homework” workouts and asked friends for favors to watch my kids so I could attend group sessions. I soothed sore muscles, invested in a quality sports bra (to avoid a painful bounce), and treated myself to a good pair of running shoes. Every week, my stamina improved, and I felt less self-conscious about my jiggles. I never did stop using the F-bomb, though.
I completed that graduation race like a total badass. I might not have been first to cross the finish line, but I certainly wasn’t last. Even if I had been, I would’ve felt victorious because I put myself out there and did it.
For the first time as a mother, I prioritized my own well-being. This unexpected high filled me with pride as I took charge of my physical and mental health, aiming to be the best mom I could be to my energetic kids.
No, I didn’t win that race, and eight years into my running journey, I haven’t won a single race yet. I’ve never stood on a podium or received a medal for first place. Yet, I continue to lace up my shoes, fueled by my love for running.
Winning manifests in various forms, and as mothers, we must recognize our accomplishments in navigating the challenges of motherhood, both on and off the track. I am a winner because I have friends who text me, saying, “I’m running tomorrow. After your tough week, you should join me.”
I am a winner because I’ve completed six marathons, with a seventh on the horizon, and I joke that the first-place finisher was simply afraid I’d catch up.
I am a winner because I’ve explored cities across the U.S. through running, experiencing the beauty our nation offers, accessible only by foot.
And I am a winner because when my daughter lamented about her basketball team’s dismal record, I assured her that winning isn’t everything. We discussed the importance of showing up, both for your team and yourself, and how sometimes losing helps you appreciate what truly matters in life.
Ultimately, I recognize that I’m a winner because when I look in the mirror, I see more than just a mom. I see a strong, independent woman setting an example for my kids. I see someone who can enjoy an extra glass of wine or bowl of ice cream without guilt, and that’s a prize worth its weight in gold.
In conclusion, whether you’re running a race or navigating the challenges of motherhood, celebrating your victories—big or small—redefines what it means to win.