In Mourning

Last week, I said goodbye to a longtime companion. 

I had no idea how hard this would hit me.  I had actually gotten to the point where I was excited to get rid of it.  It's big.  It takes up a lot of space.  And my garage is plenty full with the bikes, scooters, helmets, skates, pads, and various toys of three children.  When pool season finally ended, I was anxious to clean out the space, and getting rid of the stroller that I hadn't used in probably a year seemed like an important first step.

I listed in on local Buy/Sell/Trade Facebook groups for what I thought was a steal and waited for a taker.  It took a couple of weeks, which surprised me, since this stroller is THE BEST, and I knew there had to be plenty of moms out there that dreamed of owning one without having to endure the $400+ price tag.  But I finally found a buyer- a new mom who wanted to get into running after having a baby four months ago.  Perfection.

We arranged a time for her to come and pick it up, and I happily showed her how to use it and wished her well as she loaded it up in her car and drove away

...and then I went back into the house and completely lost it.  I'm talking the ugly cry.  Loud sobs, tears pouring, breathless, splotchy face, swollen eyes kind of crying.  And for some reason, I never saw that coming.

This was our last stroller.  The last remnant of the baby years.  Having it folded up in the garage collecting cobwebs allowed me to hold onto the idea that yes, my children are growing, but Charlotte is still my baby.  Two of my kids may be big, but one is still little, right?  But the reality is she hadn't ridden in that stroller for many months, and she'd rather be running free with the other big kids.  She's no longer a baby.

Letting go of this stroller was also letting go of a time when I had the ability to run with it.  My knee has not been able to withstand the extra weight of pushing the stroller while I ran in quite some time.  Saying goodbye to the stroller was saying goodbye to a time when I could run double digit miles on a Saturday morning, when I could train for races, when I was gaining both speed and endurance instead of barely making it through a flat 3-miles, when I had the ability to run a 100 mile month.

Charlotte used to love riding in the stroller, carrying her little sippy cup and snack, covered with her blanket on cooler days, meeting up with our running friends.  She loved to feel the wind in her hair when we went fast.  I guess I should have expected this reaction.  Babies and running were the two biggest things in my life for quite awhile.  The stroller was the marriage of my two favorite things, so seeing it drive away in someone else's car wasn't easy.

A week later, and I still feel a little sadness about it, but the ugly cries have stopped.  As silly as it sounds, I think I legitimately needed to mourn this loss.  I will always have the fondest memories of that stroller, and the times that I spent running free with my tiniest running companion strapped snugly inside it.