“GRUMPY!” I growled back with a snarly laugh, I was trying to appear not quite as mean as I was feeling. He was taken aback: What had Dr Jekyll done with Mr Hyde? Acting so out of character, I felt I had to explain, “I haven’t been in here for 5 days, and I NEED to sweat! Gonna go take it out on the treadmill.” From there I shoved my ipod buds into my ears, took a swig of water, and stomped off in a rush to squeeze in a short but “meaningful” workout.

While the treadmill began to move, I felt guilt rise in my chest. Do you ever feel “post-anger guilt?” Well, it hits me every time. And like usual, the guilt added to my frustration. Luckily my kids were not around, as this is where I sometimes parent out of Mommy Guilt (like after I’ve yelled at them for no good reason). Parenting outta Mommy Guilt is often regrettable because it can lead to overindugence, overpermissiveness,erratic emotions and inconsistency. So, like I said, I was thankful to be alone in my irrational pity party for the moment.

Time was ticking and my new running shoes were heating up with the track’s increasing speed. But the more I thought, the more confused I became. Why should I feel guilty for feeling angry? After all, I did NOT yell at my kids this time. I wasn’t even rude to the Gym Guy! AND yesterday was a very exciting and successful day. After officially launching my Tri Parenting E-Zine and this blog, both were met with wonderful reception! But WITH all that excitement, I’m thinking I should be floating on Cloud 9 today, right? The rediculousness in that question made me feel even more insane.

By the time my 30 minute workout was over, my grumps had sweated profusely onto my shirt. I atrributed my emotional hic-up to sugar overload, unrealistic expectations, and slothlike-ness for the last 5 days. I found peace and gratitude knowing my ugly mood had actually fueled one heck of a workout, and Mr Hyde left the gym smiling.

Gym Guy seemed relieved, too. “See you tomorrow? He asked with a smile.

“You bet!” I replied, “looking forward to it already.”

Just three years after the birth of Harrison, my second son, I felt a sudden desire, no, an overwhelming need, to compete in my first triathlon. I was never aware of this urge before, but at 37, the effects of mommy-hood were ruthlessly chipping away at my self-esteem. Drowning in doubt over my skills as a mom, failing to find the meaning of life in dirty diapers and laundry, and watching my body turn into an amorphous blob was more than I could take. I needed to prove myself in some other challenging, productive and exciting way. Together with a few of my closest girlfriends, we registered for the 2004 Danskin Triathlon in Austin, Texas.

Training for the race seemed, at times, as challenging as motherhood itself. But the experience taught me more about myself than I’d ever imagined. The most significant revelation actually led to my writing this blog.

DIVING IN: Here’s what happened. I was 1/2 way into an intense treadmill workout, sweating my babyfat off and feeling the rush of adrenalin, when I was struck by an “Endorphin Epiphany.” I suddenly recognized a striking similarity between triathlons and parenting. Good ole Webster defines Triathon (n.) as “an endurance race combining events in swimming, bicyling, and running.” Leave out any one of these events, and you no longer have a true triathlon. I think parenting is also made up of 3 essential parts: prayer, relationship and learning. Without faith, a healthy connection with your child, or the desire to continue learning, parenting becomes something much less than God designed it to be.

DIVING DEEPER: Breaking the definition down further, endurance can be defined as as the ability to stand pain and race as a competition. Excluding parents entranced with heavy doses of Valium, all would agree that parenting requires unending endurance. And if you consider the war between most parental values and the Hollywood values of mainstream society, it’s pretty clear that parenting has serious competition. In fact, I think parents compete on lots of levels. For example, on the inside, I’m sometimes tormented by by the struggle between my worth as a parent and self doubt. But there are tons of other examples (big and small) such as those of a dad struggling to put a shirt on his squirming infant OR a mom’s “No, you may not!” defended head-on by an emphatic “Just watch me!” Anyway you look at it, parenting just may be counted as the ultimate race.

I invite you register to join me in this race of Triathlon Parenting. It’s tons better to train, race and celebrate with a friend than to try to go it alone.