I’ve never run a day in my life, with the exception of being chased at a game of hide and seek or tag as a kid.

How I got into this. . .well it’s a bit of a twisted road, and now that I’m barreling down it with less than 10 weeks to go, no time to look back.

So, each Saturday, we set out. Most Saturdays, our breath is frosty, the grass is pasted white from the night’s cold blanket and we head out to the park to meet our posse of moms with strollers, water bottles, and determination to reach 6.22 miles on March 28, 2009, in beautiful Richmond along with 35,000 of our friends. Along with Rachel Pustilnik, our Stroller Strides coach, we encourage each other, share war stories from our weeks’ personal ventures on the track, treadmill, or open road. Then we RUN. We run like mothers. And it’s fun like no other sweaty, frustrating, exhilharating fun we’ve ever had.

The best part? When the kids ask me about the goal. “Why are ya runnin, mama? How far? Wow, that is far.” they say. “Goin trainin’ again?” they say. “Yes, I answer, off to meet my team. Caroline’s all bundled up in the stroller. See you soon, boys!”

And when I return, cheeks flushed pink with cold, sweating in spite of the chill that’s set into my fingers and toes, I’m ready for my Saturday. We can do anything. “Great job, mama!” My oldest son says. Ready to play?

I’m ready for anything.