My partner is gearing up for a sprint triathlon today. It’s quite impressive when you consider the levels of training and skill required to transition smoothly between events while maintaining speed and endurance. Success in this sport demands meticulous preparation, as well as considerable mental and physical stamina.
Last year marked his first foray into this event, and we quickly realized that the transitions between activities are almost as critical as the race itself. If he finds himself fumbling with wet socks or struggling to remove his wetsuit, it could mean the difference between finishing in first place or third, or achieving a personal best.
While I wouldn’t describe myself as a triathlete in the traditional sense, I couldn’t help but reflect on a different kind of triathlon that we mothers engage in daily. Admittedly, it lacks the swimming, cycling, or running components, but it involves a multitude of transitions that can make a significant difference between a good day and a great one.
A Day in the Life
Take yesterday, for instance. My day began with the familiar challenge of getting the kids ready for school. We enjoyed a nutritious breakfast while hurrying to don our “race gear,” ensuring homework was completed and packed into backpacks, and that lunches were ready to go.
Once we were set, we navigated through neighborhood construction, carefully plotting a course that would allow me to achieve a personal record amidst the obstacles of cones, traffic, and school buses. We arrived at school, managing to shave off three minutes from our usual time—an excellent start to the day.
Just as I began to shift from mom mode to executive mode, I noticed my youngest son’s face. He wore that all-too-familiar look of panic: he had forgotten his lunch at home. There goes my personal best time.
Quickly recalibrating, I opted to order a sandwich delivered to school instead of risking my schedule. After a kiss goodbye, I focused on the next transition. However, I soon realized that my plan wasn’t as seamless as anticipated. With a moment to spare, I made a pit stop at my favorite coffee shop, ordering in advance to avoid delays. I was back on track—at least for a moment.
The day started off well enough until my supervisor popped into my office for a brief chat. What was supposed to be a short discussion stretched to 45 minutes, cutting it close for my 11:30 meeting. Suddenly, I remembered: I never ordered that sandwich for my son.
I quickly called a colleague to inform her of my delay, scrambling online to find the school address. A twinge of regret hit me—I should have created an online profile beforehand to streamline the process. After placing the order, I barely made it to my son’s lunch hour.
Regaining my focus, I dashed to my meeting, which regrettably ran past noon. Once finished, I found myself locked out of my office during lunch hour, only to be saved by a teammate who let me back in. Typically, this is my time to catch up on emails and have a quick snack. I downed a hard-boiled egg, an apple, and some string cheese, readying myself for the afternoon.
With a packed schedule, I had a meeting slated to end at 4:30 p.m., followed by the school pickup for my children, ensuring they would be ready for soccer practice by 5:45 p.m. Thankfully, they were both at the same location that day.
However, as the afternoon wore on, I began to feel the fatigue set in. Leading a meeting drained my energy, but I persevered, reminding myself that my team depended on me. It was 4:29 p.m. when I realized I needed to gather my belongings and head to the car, which was parked farther away than I anticipated.
I picked up my eldest at 4:46 p.m., just one minute late—something I could manage later. Walking into the school library, he asked about his brother. Panic surged through me as I recalled I had taken the wrong route and was supposed to pick up my youngest first. This oversight meant my son would have to wait, which could jeopardize our timely arrival at soccer practice.
Taking a deep breath, I decided to navigate some back roads to save time, though it didn’t quite work out as planned; we still arrived ten minutes late. Fortunately, my youngest was fine, and the coaches were understanding. There was still a chance to eat, change, and get to practice on time, but it required everyone to be focused and organized.
After a productive drive home, I dropped off the boys at soccer and transitioned into my role as the chief operations officer of the household. I made a quick stop at Target to exchange cell phones and grab groceries for the week, all the while keeping an eye on the clock.
As I approached the final stretch of my day, adrenaline surged through me. I decided to pick up dinner instead of facing the dreaded late-night meal prep. Nothing would stand in my way as I aimed to conclude this day successfully. I envisioned a warm bath and perhaps a glass of wine as a reward for my efforts.
Finally, I picked up the kids, and we arrived home. I had successfully completed another day in this sprint triathlon of motherhood. Reflecting on the day, I concluded that perhaps traditional triathlons were not my calling; I might be better suited for the marathon—slow and steady. That sounds quite appealing.
Further Reading
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Summary
Navigating the daily responsibilities of motherhood resembles a sprint triathlon, with its swift transitions and unexpected obstacles. From managing morning routines to juggling work commitments and school pickups, every moment requires strategy and stamina. In the end, while traditional triathlons may not be for everyone, the marathon of motherhood is a rewarding journey.
Keyphrase: “motherhood triathlon”
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