Sometimes I just have these crazy random questions that flow through my ever thinking head. One day I wondered "When was the last time that I picked up and carried my oldest daughter?". At this point she was a young teenager and the question just saddened me. I could not identify the very last time that I picked her up and carried her. When at one time picking her up was just an every day event such as her falling asleep in the car, I would carry her in. When I would wake her up in the morning, I would give her a hug and then pick her up to carry her off to another room. If she got a "boo boo", she was gathered in my arms and comforted. It became a moment of heart ache to think that in all reality there was a day that I picked her up and carried her for the very last time and I could not identify that moment. I am sure it was just another ordinary day, one that was followed by many others without the thought of "That was the very last time that I would pick up and carry my daughter". It just was something that was not noted and didn't seem like a big event at the time. No thought was given and the years passed.
My mind began to race wondering, how many of those moments I have had throughout my life that I did something for the very last time? I began to recall childhood memories and the play and activity of a child. I thought of the hours without end playing, running, jumping, skipping and actively tackling each day. I wondered how many other things I had done on a regular basis early in life that I would not ever do again. It was a defining moment in my life. As silly as it sounds, I was plagued with sorrow for the loss of simple yet precious things of my childhood. When did I become this adult that didn't run, jump and skip? When did my attitude shift from the thought of running is joyful to running is horrible? I even wondered if I could run? I hadn't tried in so long, how would my body react?
It was then that I decided that there were things in my life that I could control and there were things that I could not control. I couldn't keep my sweet daughter from continuing to grow and chances are really good that I couldn't very well control the fact that I wasn't going to be able to carry her around any more. However, I could control whether I had already experienced my last time of running or not. I wanted to feel that sensation of air flowing through my hair and brushing my face, my lungs contracting in and out and even that burn in my legs as I pushed them to go faster.
What was once a carefree activity was now something that seemed almost dream like. Partly due to the fact that over the years of inactivity I seemed to develop asthma and partly because of the years of inactivity I seemed to contract a large amount of fat deposits distributed very evenly over my entire body. Not that me being extra fluffy (as I like to call it) was going to keep me from running but the lack of muscle and the replacement of TONS (well, TONS might be a slight exaggeration, but maybe 1/2 a Ton) of fat was not to my advantage!
No worries about me wanting to feel the contraction in my lungs, I felt it! The burning in the legs seemed to spread to my entire body. As far as the wind in my hair, that only happens on a day with a good breeze. I am lucky to ever go fast enough to make my hair move. But I had a dream and I knew that it was something that was within my control unlike picking up and carrying my daughter again. Thus began my journey to regain something that was once dear to me.
My mind began to race wondering, how many of those moments I have had throughout my life that I did something for the very last time? I began to recall childhood memories and the play and activity of a child. I thought of the hours without end playing, running, jumping, skipping and actively tackling each day. I wondered how many other things I had done on a regular basis early in life that I would not ever do again. It was a defining moment in my life. As silly as it sounds, I was plagued with sorrow for the loss of simple yet precious things of my childhood. When did I become this adult that didn't run, jump and skip? When did my attitude shift from the thought of running is joyful to running is horrible? I even wondered if I could run? I hadn't tried in so long, how would my body react?
It was then that I decided that there were things in my life that I could control and there were things that I could not control. I couldn't keep my sweet daughter from continuing to grow and chances are really good that I couldn't very well control the fact that I wasn't going to be able to carry her around any more. However, I could control whether I had already experienced my last time of running or not. I wanted to feel that sensation of air flowing through my hair and brushing my face, my lungs contracting in and out and even that burn in my legs as I pushed them to go faster.
What was once a carefree activity was now something that seemed almost dream like. Partly due to the fact that over the years of inactivity I seemed to develop asthma and partly because of the years of inactivity I seemed to contract a large amount of fat deposits distributed very evenly over my entire body. Not that me being extra fluffy (as I like to call it) was going to keep me from running but the lack of muscle and the replacement of TONS (well, TONS might be a slight exaggeration, but maybe 1/2 a Ton) of fat was not to my advantage!
No worries about me wanting to feel the contraction in my lungs, I felt it! The burning in the legs seemed to spread to my entire body. As far as the wind in my hair, that only happens on a day with a good breeze. I am lucky to ever go fast enough to make my hair move. But I had a dream and I knew that it was something that was within my control unlike picking up and carrying my daughter again. Thus began my journey to regain something that was once dear to me.
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