Fun on wheels

  Our garage is home to all sorts of things on wheels: roller skates, bicycles, a tricycle, a lawn mower, a wagon, and three - count 'em, 3 -  strollers.  Sure, only one member of our family actually rides in a stroller, but it’s nice to have options, I guess.

  There’s the heavy duty one left over from baby days: practically a barcalounger complete with tray, 3 drink holders, and underseat storage, outdated as it is, it puts airline seats to shame. 

  Then there’s the umbrella stroller.  I bought it at a dollar store in Nebraska and it carries happy memories, so despite rarely being used, it stays.  I think it’s called an umbrella stroller because its low handles force me to stoop over like an umbrella when I push it.  Or perhaps because its little wheels mean that every time we hit a bump, Littlest is bounced up toward the clouds.

  And lastly there’s the jogging stroller.  You'd think that with a title like Jogging Stroller, the thing would actually jog.  But it doesn't.  Nonetheless, it’s a dream to push, it steers beautifully, and Littlest loves riding in it.  And I feel like a cheater because when it's just Littlest, the jogging stroller, and me, there’s no jogging going on (though there is an overabundance of wheelies).

  I decided that I would change that today.  I spent last night psyching myself up, right down to what I was going to wear (running gear?  mom clothes?).  The introvert in me is well aware that all the world’s a stage (thanks for pointing that out, Mr. Shakespeare), and here’s me without a costume designer and make-up artist.

  Anyhoo.  I walked the kids to school.  Yes, walked.  Then on the way home, when Littlest and I passed enough families that our way was clear of pedestrians, I took a few jogging steps. 

  “Eurgh, I’m a bad jogger.  I bet people driving past me are choking on their coffee.”

  “Okay, I’m just gonna jog till the cross walk.”

  “I made it!  Okay, walk across the street, then jog the next block.  Wahoo!”

  “Ack!  People up ahead.  Put on a brave face and jog till we’re at a conversational distance.”

  Stop, smile, greet, talk, off we go again.  ("Hey, no one mentioned seeing a hippo pushing a jogging stroller down the street!  How about that!")

  “Okay, we’re out of anyone’s direct line of vision.  Jog as far as the tree.”

  “Almost home, jog to the corner.  Finish strong, jog up the driveway.”

  Yes, that was my self talk.  Interestingly, Littlest's chatter was “Wheeeee!  That was fun!  Do it again!”

  We will.  We’ll do it again.  It was fun.  J