Weathering

Ila and I ran a 10K this morning in Central Park while it was 16°F. This was her second road race, and let's just say we were not ready for the temperature.

When you're just starting anything, learning how to show up is half the battle.

We weren't sure if she should run with three layers or two. We chose the latter, and that was not wise. Not only did she not have enough layers on, but I let her leave the house with ankle socks and spandex that did not fully cover her exposed ankles.

We took a cab to the starting line instead of jogging there because we didn't wake up early enough.

The lead-up to the race and first half-mile of our time on the course was rough. There was a lot of complaining. Lots of involuntary snot dripping from both of our noses. As we headed to the first mile mark, I stopped us so that I could take off one of my pairs of socks and put them on her feet.

Any pace time that I was trying to maintain was off the table at that moment.

Minutes later, I found help for Ila because she was not going to make it if we continued without intervention.

This was the beginning of the spiral. Ila couldn't believe how many people were waiting in the cold to run. She said something like, "What is this? A cult?!" 

We stopped in a heating tent to warm her up. The volunteers gave her their own fleece, gloves, and scarf to layer on top of what she already had on, plus heat warmers for her hands and feet. Twenty-five minutes later, the last runners and walkers in the race were passing us, and I was feeling a little defeated.

We had only completed one mile, and my baby was crying and asking to go home. The bitter cold was just too much.

But you already know how this ended.

I took this earlier this evening as we were walking across 125th in a much warmer state. 

I turned on my Spotify playlist that Ila named "The Running Montage" without the headphones, and we ran towards our next mile. By the time we got to the hill on 110th St in Harlem (IYKYK), that child was telling me to lift my legs so we could attack the uphill and coast downhill. She took her advice more than I did, and I met her at the finish line many minutes later.

Running teaches us so many lessons about ourselves and others. Here were a few things that crossed my mind as I ran to catch her.

Your strength will guide your children; it will give them an example to work from.
If I had decided to throw in the towel this morning, Ila would have absolutely thrown it in, too. No question about it. I think in her heart of hearts she knew that I would never let us quit, and so even though she pleaded to go home, she knew it wasn't in the cards.

Your sacrifice will give your children the bridge they need to run.
The moment we stopped to switch socks and get warm at the heat tent, the race was about supporting her finish and nothing else. She was able to acclimate to the weather running at her normal speed for this kind of distance, and literally left me in the dust.

When you become a parent, your life is all about sacrifices, but make sure that the sacrifice doesn't compromise you in the process.
When we stopped, I knew that this wasn't my race anymore, but if Ila could not have continued, I was prepared for them to drive her to the finish line and have her wait in a warm area until I finished. As long as they are safe, I don't think it serves children well when you give up what's important to you for their comfort.

When you're running out of energy, there's always a little more energy to find so you can push to the end. You might feel like death, but you're not dead. In turn, you rally and keep pushing.
I'm holding on to these thoughts tomorrow with the dawn of these tariffs and continued deportations, and for the next four years as we embark on uncertain and volatile times.

I have six more races left to qualify for the 2026 Marathon, so I'm afraid this won't be the last of my running thoughts.

Wishing you all a strong start to the week. We've got this.

Petrushka
Your Local Ice Cream Lady & Life/Business Coach