Training With My Shadow

Recently, I decided to sign up for a 5K with the goal of beating a previous PR. I got creative with hill work training and ran up and down our quiet street while my 5-year-old daughter played in our yard, supervised. Every 30 seconds, I’d pass our house to her cheers and wild gesticulations. I waved back to her – and her baby doll – like I was a top finisher in Boston. We had so much fun during that hill work session, but it was a small moment that probably would have faded to a hazy memory.

Until the next day, when my daughter laced up her gym shoes and informed me that she was going for a run. Thinking we’d do a tiny jog to the stop sign and back, I quickly threw on some shoes and followed her; she surprised me by running almost the entire one-mile loop around our neighborhood – in a dress and gym shoes. Her running commentary of the process was on par with a sports anchor.

As I watched her dress swish back and forth in rhythm to her tiny running feet, I realized she’d been watching me run my hills and was soaking in every moment. To me, it was a quick way to get training in; to her, it was a life lesson.

My daughter has worked out with me since the day I was cleared to exercise postpartum. Those early days, she watched me from her bouncy seat while I tickled her toes and made silly faces in between burpees. I still remember her belly laughs every time I jumped around to an Insanity video.

When she was old enough to walk and talk, she started doing some moves with me. We’d lay out our multi-colored foam mats, grab some dumbbells – two TV remotes for her – and go to town. I usually had a good five minutes before she started taking over my exercise mat for a jumping game. And push-ups were exponentially harder with a giggling toddler sitting on my back.

We’ve done kids’ yoga, dance parties, stroller runs (where she could be heard screaming, “Faster! Faster!”), and more recently, her own workout creations that involve a lot of painful stretching. Through it all, I never made a conscious effort to teach her the importance of exercise; it was just a fun way to do my own workout and feel healthy. On some level, I realized that I was modeling behavior for her. But the day-to-day, unaware part of me never considered how much she would copy and adopt my behaviors for herself.

In fact, not only has my daughter learned to love exercise, she’s already teaching the teacher. As she steps into her own adventures of dance and gymnastics, she schools me on dance positions, tumbling moves, and stretches. Every week, she comes home with a new routine to lead me through. It’s a time to be healthy, yes; but it’s also a time to bond and strengthen our relationship. Some of our happiest moments are giggling over my paltry back-bends or her burpees – which look more like a fish flopping on dry land. And I know I’m speaking my daughter’s love language when we manage to pull off an impromptu dance session.

That day around the block, I realized that I always want to exercise with my daughter. In between the stress of school and work, the complications of future teenage years, and whatever life has in store for us, I hope she always has time for “work outing” with her mama.

I hope that I’ll be the one to run her first race with her. And if the day comes that I’m too old to run, I hope we’re still in the race together – only this time, it’s me in the wheelchair, screaming, “Faster! Faster!”