by April M. Reign

Created on: June 10, 2010

I’m not sure when the changes happened. They were subtle in the making and with each new wrinkle or extra pound I gained; somehow I forced myself not to notice. Until this morning- I removed my clothing in preparation of my shower and caught a glimpse of myself in my full length mirror. I sobbed inwardly at my physical changes; once a vivacious girl, now a mature “older” woman. 

At the market yesterday, a young man handed me a flyer advertising a charity marathon being held in our small town. I had taken the paper, folded it up and stuffed it in my purse. Maybe it’s time for me to do something for myself. After all, my children are grown with families of their own and my husband is immersed in his personal hobbies.

I called a family meeting to share my enthusiasm. I didn’t expect their reaction.

 “Mom, maybe you should do something more your speed, like learning to knit or taking a cooking class.” My thirty-seven year old son nonchalantly mentioned with apathy.

Tears welled up in my eyes faster then I could will them away. And then, like so often, I lifted my chin and smiled at my family. I set aside my bruised feelings and put on a confident front that made everyone feel easy again.

 In the morning, before the sun touched the horizon, my alarm clock rang. Tempted to press the snooze button and cuddle with my husband of forty years, I found a hidden inner strength to pull myself out of bed. I threw on my sweats and stepped outside on our porch, stretching my achy muscles. With a flashlight in hand, I started my slow jog through the forest path that backed up to our home. I made it five minutes into the forest before I turned around, gasping for air on my way back. I crawled back into bed, discouraged but not defeated.

Each day proved to be easier. I no longer used my alarm clock to get up and instead let my body naturally wake me at the right time. And each day I ran further than the day before. My muscles felt stronger, my body sleeker and my mind clearer. I was changing.

The night before the big event I called my children to remind them to be there early. Both my son and daughter apologized for not being able to make it. I understood. But when my husband told me he wouldn’t attend for fear of watching me hurt myself, I felt deflated. Couldn’t he see my accomplishments? I put on my running gear, kissed his forehead and drove myself to the race site, hiding my disappointment.

The rising sun’s

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