A Gift for Mom! 🤍

I don’t run five miles a day. I walk 10,000 steps. Up and down stairs. Through school hallways. Across parking lots. Down grocery store aisles.

I don’t get up at 4:30 in the morning to train.I get up at 2:30, 3:30 and 4:30 . . . to comfort an upset soul. To get a glass of water. To make another bottle.

I don’t lift weights. I lift toys. Potty seats. Broken spirits.

I don’t train with a group. I’m on my own. Learning as I go. A new challenge each day.

I don’t run my “race” surrounded by cheering crowds. I travel my journey encompassed by family. Friends. Soul sisters.

There are days when motherhood is nothing short of a marathon. Nonstop running around. On legs that can barely stand. A mental game like no other.Pushing. Convincing.Digging. To fold one more load. To put a sweet being back to bed for the 10th time, at 3:00 in the morning…when you have to be up at 5:00. Running on an empty tank. Because you didn’t have time to eat, as you were too busy refueling others. Exhausted.From those late-nights-rolling-straight-into-the-before-the-sun-wakes-upmornings.

I don’t change my clothes because they are soaked from an intense workout.I change my clothes because they are covered in a hard day’s work. Spilled juice. The aftermath of a sick baby.

I don’t wear layers to train in the elements; I layer my clothes to weather the frigid temperatures of my daughter’s soccer game.

I don’t lace my shoes to hit the pavement. I tie my laces to hit the playground. The sports fields. The mud puddles.

You see, running used to be my thing. For years. My way of letting it all out, while taking it all in. The ultimate mental game of setting goals. And reaching them. Breaking records and obtaining new ones. Pushing myself. Through the pain. The cramps. The pounding heart. The pumping lungs. The stress fractures. The imploding thoughts of quitting.

I loved it.I needed it. It kept me above water.

But, there’s a point where running a marathon and running through motherhood differ.

When I ran in high school and college, I had an entourage of cheerleaders. Coaches. Assistant coaches. My teammates. Family. Friends. Classmates. My sister. Literally yelling and screaming in my ear. Motherhood . . . not so much. You are playing the mental game. Oh yes, sweet friend, playing that game 24-7. But without the constant stream of cheerleaders by your side. You are it.Pulling out your pom-poms. Each and every day.

You are it, off the starting blocks, when a feverish little sweetie crawls into your bed, looking for early morning comfort.

You are it, midday, when the favorite stuffed buddy lost its tail, and the tears are pouring down in buckets.

You are it, in the homestretch of the evening, pulling out any trick imaginable to keep tiny mouths open just long enough to clean their pearly little whites.

You are it, crossing the finish line, reading the same bedtime story for the 7th night this week, attempting to tuck everyone in bed (or back in bed), dragging your feet down the hallway, tip-toeing down the stairs . . . and looking back on your day, wondering how exactly you managed to make it through.

I used to run 1-3 miles every day, before our first precious little babe arrived. And I tried. Believe me, I tried to keep up. But I couldn’t balance it all.Something had to go. A baby requires full attention. Three babes? Times those requirements by three. And with a husband who sacrifices everything possible to support his family gone more often than not, I was one exhausted mama. So I let it go. And I miss it. More than words could express. It is a goal of mine to one day be able to run a half-marathon, or possibly full marathon. Marathon runners amaze me.

But you know who amazes me even more? Mothers. Because their race never stops.

Originally published on the author’s blog

You may also like:

A Mother’s Mind Never Rests, Because We Carry The Mental Load

I’m a Mom Who’s Running On Empty

Want more stories of love, family, and faith from the heart of every home, delivered straight to you? Sign up here!

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Liz Spenner

Liz is a former elementary teacher and now a stay-at-home mama to six little ones. She writes as an inspiration and encouragement to other women, and most especially mothers on her blog, www.gracefullywoven.net (where you can subscribe and receive her free Five-Day Mini-Motherhood Devotional!). Liz loves spending with her family, outside as often as possible, as well as sneaking a few moments to herself with a run, dark chocolate and writing, with her faith as her greatest motivation.

The Invisible Pain after IVF Stops

In: Motherhood
Woman holding pregnancy test with head in hands

There is nothing “basic” about stopping IVF and returning to the so-called natural route. There is no guidebook for what comes next. The protocols and procedures that once dictated every step suddenly disappear. The appointments, alarms, and instructions are gone—but the emotions and unknowns remain. There is no protocol for going back to the basics. When we decided to stop IVF and try naturally, I wasn’t prepared for how difficult this next part of our journey would be. During IVF, everything had structure. There were calendars to follow, medications to take at exact times, appointments that filled the weeks. There...

Keep Reading

The Final Out

In: Motherhood
Baseball game as seen through the fence behind home plate

Tonight I watched him step up to the plate for the last time. Play-offs. Single elimination. Down by one. Last inning. Two outs. And the batting lineup just happened to fall to him. Nothing prepares you for that. He took a breath. The weight of an entire lifetime spent in red dirt hinging on this moment. He set his face like flint to that pitcher. The ball left the glove, and he swung. Strike one. He stepped away. Reset. Tapped the base. Then set himself once more. He swung, hit a line drive, and sprinted headlong towards the base, setting...

Keep Reading

These Holy Small Things

In: Faith, Motherhood
Children sewing at machine

My 8-year-old-daughter has recently taken up sewing, to my simultaneous delight and chagrin. My delight because I too love sewing; my chagrin because her enthusiasm often outpaces my own abilities, namely, in the undertaking of tedious projects with no pattern. Take, for example, the cloth doll diaper we designed and stitched up together. Granted, the design was fairly basic to draw up and scale. But the minuscule nature of the work, both for my hands and head, was enough to throw me into existential questioning. It was one of those moments when you wonder how the sum of your life...

Keep Reading

The Pressure to Do Everything “Right” Is Crushing Us

In: Motherhood
Tired and stressed mother sits in hallway with toddler across from her, black and white image

I don’t remember when motherhood started to feel like a test I didn’t study for—but somehow, I’m always convinced I’m failing it. It’s in the quiet moments. Standing in the grocery store aisle, overthinking every label—organic, non-GMO, dye-free, free-range, grass-fed—like I’m one bad decision away from ruining their future…while also trying not to take out a second mortgage just to afford my ever-rising grocery bill. Sitting on the couch, wondering if the show they’re watching or game they’re playing is rotting their brain. Lying in bed at night, replaying the way I handled a meltdown, picking apart every word I...

Keep Reading

Letting You Go Is Still So Hard

In: Grown Children, Motherhood
Walkway toward water at sunset

Nothing really prepares you for the day your child leaves the house. Last September, my husband and I moved our 18-year-old son into his dorm room. Right after that, he was swept away into all things orientation, and we began our 1,000-mile journey back home. Leaving this beautiful human I raised and spent all those years with felt foreign. During our final hug goodbye, despite trying to hold in my pain, I broke out in huge, ugly, guttural tears. Our drive home was a long two days. It took every fiber of my being not to turn around. Returning to...

Keep Reading

Behind Every Smiling Graduate Is a Mother Letting Go

In: Grown Children, Motherhood
Mom and grown son smiling

Every year, millions of American families send their children off to their freshman year of college. Their pictures dot our social media feeds. Images of excited students holding collegiate pennants, maybe wearing a hat or holding up their school’s hand sign with beaming smiles. Their parents post excited words about futures and hopes and dreams. One chapter closing. Another opening. A new beginning. So why am I struggling so much? Why does this feel more like a loss than a gain? Why are my tears always on edge, threatening to spill over each time I think about August and what...

Keep Reading

Life Lessons from My Grown Children

In: Faith, Motherhood
Two women's hands on teacups

“Don’t limit a child to your own learning, for he was born in another time.” – Rabindranath Tagore Quietly communing with a loved one in the early morning hours is such an intimate and precious time. Visiting with one’s grown child when all is dark and still is one of life’s purest pleasures. I remember the conversation clearly. My daughter’s husband, small children, and father were all asleep as we whispered and chatted. She and I are both fidgeters by nature, unable to be still for long. This inner restlessness must be remedied, and we are compelled by biology to...

Keep Reading

As a Medical Mom, I Measure Growth Differently

In: Kids, Motherhood
Little girl climbing outside

In most homes, the marks on the wall are a simple celebration of time passing. They are pencil lines that track how many inches a child has gained since their last birthday. But in our home, those marks represent a much deeper, more complex story. When your child lives with multiple hormone deficiencies, growth is never just “natural”—it is a carefully managed medical achievement. However, as any medical mom knows, the story doesn’t end at the top of the head. It begins deep inside, with a tiny gland that isn’t sending the right signals. Having multiple hormone deficiencies is often...

Keep Reading

Hannah Harper Is Every Mom with Babies in Her Arms and a Dream In Her Heart

In: Living, Motherhood
Hannah Harper American Idol winner sings with her young son on her lap

By now, you’ve probably seen the posts flooding your feed: A young mom. Three little boys. A guitar strap embroidered with her children’s drawings. And a crown. When Hannah Harper won American Idol this week, moms everywhere erupted. And honestly? Same. There is something collective about watching a stay-at-home mom win on such a large stage. The celebrations have been pouring in. Moms, we can do it. She didn’t abandon her dreams. She went for it. And all of that is true, and all of that is worth celebrating. But I want to add something to the celebration. Not to...

Keep Reading

Watching Your Children Build the Life You Prayed For Is Beautiful

In: Grown Children, Motherhood
Mother dancing with son at wedding

“I love you, Mom.” “Hmmm?” (A little louder) “I love you.” “I love you too…so very much.” I’d been deep in thought, listening to the lyrics we were slowly dancing to. I knew this moment of ours was supposed to be the time to say all the things, but this boy and I had already said all the things, so the song the deejay played—written by Lori McKenna and sung by Tim McGraw—enchanted our ears: When the dreams you’re dreamin’ come to you When the work you put in is realized Let yourself feel the pride but Always stay humble...

Keep Reading