Tonight I did something that I’ve been working on for a long time. I ran a 5K under 19 minutes. It may not seem like such a big deal, but let me give a little more backstory.

Before I had kids, I was experiencing a sort of breakthrough in my running. I was running PR’s in every distance from 5K to marathon. I was also in my 20’s and logging 65 miles a week and cross training on top of that.

Before having kids I assumed I could have it all. These kids would just fit right into our world and we could just keep doing the things we were used to doing.

I laugh at my naivety. Reality hit quickly and I was soon in the thick of parenting. I never stopped running, at least not for too long save when it became uncomfortable during pregnancy or the post partum period or for injuries. Was I running 65 miles a week and cross training on top of it? I laugh again.

Running changed for me from the moment my oldest daughter was born. It wasn’t an easy change. I had honestly been addicted to the long miles, the workouts, the races. It had even been an idol for me, I’m ashamed to admit.

Having kids took me from being on top of my little world, and put me right to the bottom. I learned what sacrificial love was and how to be a servant. It humbled me to the point I barely recognize that woman I used to be. I had little humans who needed me, depended on me. It wasn’t about me anymore.

Parenting is sacrificing so much of yourself for someone else, it’s true, and it changes you in the best ways. Still, it’s not completely giving up on all your passions and dreams. These are part of who you are, and it’s the best parts of ourselves we want to pass down to our children.

So all these years, I ran. Some seasons it was very little miles and only every other day. There were a few races in there, but not many, and none of my performances came close to what I was capable of before. But I was ok with that. I knew my life had different priorities now.

Still, in the back of my mind, I always told myself, “someday”. Someday, the kids will be older and need you less, and you can train like you’re capable of again, and you can still try to get some new PRS.

Then I turned 40 this year and really nothing much changed, it’s just a number. Then summer came and suddenly I’m starting to have some symptoms of pre-menopause and that hit me like a ton of bricks!!

Why? I feel in my heart that our family is complete. I’m enjoying some of the break from the intense physical needs that kids have those first precious years of life when they need you for EVERYTHING. I’m not breastfeeding at all hours of the night, not changing diapers or chasing around a curious toddler. When I take the kids to the pool I actually don’t need to be in the pool with them anymore—I can just sit on the side and watch them. It’s a new freedom, and it’s really nice.

No, it’s no longing in me to have another baby or even just a mourning that that time is in the waning phase. I think it’s more that waning fertility, is really just a telltale sign that you are, actually aging.

It’s not that I didn’t think I would. But honestly, the last decade of my life flew by so fast between having and breastfeeding and parenting 3 babies and toddlers, I was kind of not thinking about it. I spent the entirety of my 30’s being pregnant, breastfeeding and chasing toddlers. I feel better now than I did at 35! “Someday” felt like it was nearing for me.

My youngest started preschool a couple days a week last fall and for the first time in nearly a decade, I had 5 hours a week of kid free time! And I ran. I increased my mileage to 32-35 miles a week and started doing some hard workouts again and I LOVED it!

Then one evening when I was frustrated, I set out to do a workout and I couldn’t slow myself down and so I wanted to just see how fast I could run a 5K and I ran 18:31!! It wasn’t a PR, but it was the fastest 5K I had run in 10 years. So I started to allow myself to hope and to dream again that someday I would maybe be able to run PR’s again.

Then I signed up for a couple 5K’s and ended up not running under 19 minutes and then my knee ended up flaring up and I had to take some time off running and I was so upset with myself that in my stupid desire to chase goals, I deprived myself of something I love to do that is good for me. And I realized I love running now just for running—and I’d rather do it the rest of my life than run another PR and not be able to run again.

Running is play to me. I love the long run the most. I experience “flow” when I’m out there, which is what we use to describe a child that’s wrapped up in play for hours. They are totally immersed in it and the whole world disappears to them. That’s what running, really good running is.

But I still enjoy pushing myself. I still enjoy that feeling I get after workouts that are hard. They test you. Sometimes they break you. But you come back stronger. And isn’t that a metaphor for life?

My kids have seen me run ever since they were babies. They know it’s just something I do. They know I do it because I love it. They see me running in the snow, in the rain, in the wind. They see me fail and they see that I keep trying. I don’t talk about running much with them. I don’t have to. They see me doing it.

My oldest daughter loves running, well, mostly she loves racing when she can win. She is a little frustrated with me because I won’t let her run compete much yet. She’s only 10 and I want her to love running her whole life. That’s a gift I want to give to all of them. And she’s so results driven. If it’s not a PR, if it’s not winning, she has a really hard time. And I completely GET it. I mean, that was me! And I remember the times I wanted to give it up completely because of a string of failures and feeling like I hated it. I want her to enjoy being a kid and help her to see running as something she does, not something that gives her value.

I know my kids well, and my oldest is the perfectionist. The one who gets anxious. She’s sensitive and explosive. She can be hard on others but she’s hardest on herself. I tell her that she has value and is loved no matter what.

My middle child is self described the crazy one in our family. To this day, she’s often the most challenging one to parent. She’s sweet and loving and just needs an outlet for all her energy and I’m hoping running can be that gift to her.

My son is my baby still and has the most easy going personality of the 3 of them. He “goes on runs” because he sees his mama doing it. His face still lights up every time he sees me whether I’m picking him up from school or coming back from a run.

I love the quote, maybe the best thing you do in life is someone you raise.

In church a few years ago our minister talked about finding your life’s work. That one thing that you dedicate your life to doing. You sacrifice your time and energy and money. I realized my life’s work is raising these kids to be loving and kind, God fearing people.

To quote Taylor’s message to me on Mother’s Day this year, “Mom, you’re not perfect, but you’re a good mom.” I hope to forever live up to that good enough parent these kids need me to be.

My oldest told me the other day that one of her friends noticed that she has a real connection with me. These moments show up sometimes at the dinner table without warning. You’re in the midst of all the every day chaos and then your child tells you something that instantly melts your heart. I think about the story of Jesus’s mother Mary, where it said she stored “these things up in her heart”.

I have no regrets. Running is something I do, but it’s not where my value comes from. It’s ok if all my PR’s have already happened. The time I spent, in my 30’s, probably the decade of most vitality, was well worth the time I put in with these kids.

But tonight I put on my running shoes and ran a 5K in 18:43. I’ve been trying to break 19 again since that day last September when it just sort of happened.

I had a hard time slowing myself down the first couple miles—I was ready to go. It felt good to push myself HARD. It was 86 degrees but there was a nice wind when I was running west and then hot sun when I was running east. The last mile was really hard. I wanted to stop before I even got a quarter of a mile into it. That voice in my head, telling me to just stop, I could always try again another day. This wasn’t a race. Just me, a middle aged mom running through the neighborhood, chasing a dream. But I knew, I knew I had banked some time the first two miles and even if I slowed down 20 seconds in this last mile, I could still break 19 minutes. I couldn’t even look at my pace—I didn’t want to get discouraged and stop. I bargained with myself that I could stop at the half mile. That would still be a great workout. I got to the half mile and told myself to get to the next quarter—still a good workout. Then I knew I had to finish. I picked a mailbox up ahead and just ran, feeling like my feet in my shoes were 150 degrees. I looked at my watch for the distance, not the pace, and when I hit 3.1 miles I stopped and waited to see if I had run under 19 minutes. 18:43!!!!

I texted a picture of my time and sent it to my husband, then texted “I’m dead” because I felt like I was. I walked for a couple minutes, then jogged home where we cooked dinner and started our evening routine with the kids. Just another day.

Yet tonight I feel satisfied and happy that I pushed myself and didn’t stop when it got really hard. I’m again feeling hopeful that someday, someday I’ll train more and maybe, just maybe I can set some new after 40 PRs.