The Daily Mile

For the majority of my life I did not drink coffee. I know. I know that pregnancy is usually the time where most people limit their caffeine intake, but that was actually where my addiction started. One cup of brown, magical joy just transformed my sluggish, preggo, commuter aura and all of a sudden I saw this bright, shiny, awake world for the first time. That first coffee in the morning, my god, I could ride that beautiful caffeine wave all day. My husband says I go weird when I talk about it.

Anyway, skip forward to now, a fair few years later and an entirely different world, I am still surfing on the energy provided by that initial coffee, living and working within these fours walls. Roll out of bed, kettle on, glug, glug, glug, whack my joggers on and waddle out of the front door to spend my fresh air time tokens. It's quiet at that time of the morning and as the sun rises over the fields in complete silence, I feel a renewed sense of freedom and perspective, I charge my batteries to tackle whatever the day throws at me.

[If you saw me in that moment you would maybe assume I was undertaking some kind of mindfulness exercise or a brief meditation. No, dear reader, I am listening to 90's music on full blast. I go for Alice DJ, or N-Trance or something equally horrendous and I turn it up loud. This morning I revisited the Bloodhound Gang and enjoyed the meaningful lyrics of The Bad Touch. If you get a spare five minutes one morning put your headphones in and listen to it first thing as you drink your brew. Let me know how it goes.]

And then I waddle back home and start the New Way of Life. Yesterday we tried to do all the things, we did a timetable, we did the workout with that Londoner in shorts, we baked banana bread (frugal and educational; see yesterdays post about my mother), we sang songs about Phonics and Sleeping Bunnies and I really, truly tried to make it fun for them.

[Although on my morning walk I notice the back of my leg is aching and I am convinced that there must be something seriously wrong with me. There's no way I would pull something just trying to keep up with a kids PE lesson right? I mean, my body is a temple and sometimes I do lunges to the fridge and stuff. Surely you can't ache this much from doing star jumps?]

My eldest daughter tells me how they do this thing called The Daily Mile at her school, so I say "Yes, we should absolutely do it every day if you want to" and send them in to the garden to get started while I make another coffee. As I walk out of the kitchen it is clear to see that the girls are not walking round the garden, but in fact have taken two deckchairs, have pointed them in the direction of the sun and have made themselves a little sun lounge area on which to sunbathe. In fake outrage (but also highly impressed) I shriek "Erm, what's this?! This doesn't look like The Daily Mile?!" and I am told in no uncertain terms that this is exactly how they do it at school. I imagine Class 1 kicking back in rows of deckchairs in the playground and decide to apply my better judgement. "Miss?" (they started calling me that when I said we were going to 'play schools') "Yes?" I reply. "Is it time to go home from school yet?" the oldest one asks. I look at my phone. It is 8:36am.

It feels like there is so much information and pressure at the moment, all the time. Instructions to follow; do this, do that, follow this, don't follow that. Buy this, no don't buy that. Absolutely do that if you really must, but also you don't have to if it's not absolutely necessary. I feel confused. I feel guilty. I feel scared. I feel unsure of what will happen next. I think of others who are in terrible situations, all the time. If I zoom out and look at the bigger picture, if I read the news too much, I get a knot in my tummy and I find it harder to sleep at night. I realise that trying to do all the things, trying to keep up with (gifted) professional teachers, or personal trainers, or in fact my own expectations, during this time, is probably going to do me more harm than good. I am doing all I can to keep others safe, I am following the guidance, I am trying to keep spirits up. The girls are safe and well, they think we're on holiday. They don't care whether I have a MENSA timetable or a magazine with free plastic crap from the corner shop, they have no sense of time or world crisis, they just focus on the moment they are in. They are grateful for the extra time with their family. For the sunshine.

"Can we go to the beach Mummy?" the little one says. "Yes. Good idea. Let's definitely go to the beach." I put my phone back in my pocket. I pull up a deckchair.