I'm on a training run. It's within the first few miles so it's been a struggle. A struggle between breathing and moving my legs. I start to give myself little motivations: Get to the top of the hill, then you can walk for a minute. Keep going, when you hit mile 2, you can take a break. Then I make it to that milestone. That moment, is when I feel awesome. When I reach the goal, but keep going.
I'm finishing a race. I've got almost nothing left. I see my family, I see the finish line, I get excited. I sprint to the finish. I may not have won, I may not have even come close, but I finished strong. I smile.
It's early, 5am. I'm laying in bed contemplating getting out of bed to do my work out. I hear the door open down the hall and then footsteps. Soft, small footsteps. Lindsey. Sure enough, 5 seconds later I see Lindsey looking at me, stuffed frog tucked under her arm. "Mommy" she says in a groggy voice. My rule is (and this will be news to Phil, I'm sure) if it's after 5am they can get in bed with us and snuggle. We all get up at 6am anyway. I put her next me. "Blankie mommy". I pull the sheet over her little body up to her chin. I put my head down on the pillow and look at her, she turns to face me. At that moment she looks at me, smiles, touches my cheek with her little toddler hand. I look again and her eyes are closed. She's snoring. The house is quiet as I look at her little cheeks up against the pillow, her mouth open, slow inhales and exhales. Her hand is still resting on my cheek.
I think to myself, I'll run tonight.