Morning Jog

Every morning this week I've taken a morning jog. I don't wear a sports bra, or running shoes, or gym shorts, or any athletic apparel. I dress for the office and lug my lap top, iPad, wallet, lunch, and whatever else in my beat-up leather bag, and jog a mile with Roan to daycare.

Why? Because Roan now insists on riding his bike to daycare. And he rides really fast. So fast that I have to run to keep up with him. He thinks this is hilarious, seeing me run alongside him, and when he is not going full throttle he seems intent on traveling at that irritating pace where you can almost speed walk but not quite - you have to break into a jog and bounce around in shoes that were not meant to be bounced in, and ruin any chance of a decent hair day by scraping it into a ponytail, and sweat. Because even at 8 in the morning it is hot and soupy. We arrive at daycare moist and panting. The hallway is lined with the other children's strollers. The Russians offer me a burp cloth to wipe my sweaty face with. I politely refuse.

Maybe I'm too indulgent. The stroller does seem more convenient. But getting Roan in the stroller is akin to a 12 step program. There is calm head shaking denial, refusal, whining, running away, crying, temper tantrums, screaming, temper tantrums, shrieking, hitting, and finally, when he is safely restrained by the stroller straps, bribery. At first it was just some fruit. Then it was fruit and animal crackers. And orange juice. And a book. And my phone. And a squeezer. And even then, at some point he would look up from all that and reawaken to the horrible fact that he was in his stroller and lose his shit all over again. Needless to say we weren't making good time.

Now we're at daycare in 10 minutes, give or take, depending on how many buses and garbage trucks must be acknowledged. I'm sure if I stuck it out with the stroller for a week or two Roan would come around. But I'd rather just forgo all the conflict and drama. It's so easy for me to make him happy right now. He doesn't have much control over the shape of his days and there are so many times he has to bend to my will that it feels right to let him win one every now and then. Instead of making him adjust to the stroller, I am adjusting to the morning jog. I started by buying myself a new pair of shoes.