Yesterday, I was reading a book, watching t.v. and running on the treadmill.  I find this a very effective approach to running…which makes it less like running and more like reading a book while watching t.v.

Anyway, Garth Brooks was on the Today Show for some big reveal of his new song.  The song is about God talking to a baby and telling the baby that there’s someone waiting for him – a loving angel, tender, tough and strong.  Then God tells the baby that, “It’s almost time to go and meet your mom.”

Waaaaah!  WAAAAAHHHHH!!!!  <–That’s me HEARING the song about a baby going to meet his mom, and not the actual baby IN the song, in case you didn’t know.

And then?  Then it’s the LEAST like running on a treadmill that anyone has ever seen; And the MOST like standing still on a treadmill while sucking in huge gobs of air.  I state for the record, Your Honor, that it’s really hard to cry and run simultaneously.  As is the case when you’re laughing too hard, your knees get all wobbly.  But it’s the BREATHING that’s the problem.  You can’t BREATHE if you’re trying to run AND cry.  So it’s best just to stop altogether ‘til the cryin’ is done.

It wasn’t even so much the song that started me crying (ok, it might have been, which just pissed me off because what dope cries over a Garth Brooks song?!?), but it was also the memory it brought to me of my own little son, when he was a newly minted three year old.  As I was putting him to bed on his third birthday, he asked me where he was before he was three.  I explained he was two.  Before that, one.  So we kept going back in time, but he wasn’t looking for the eventual, “From Mommy’s tummy, Sweetie.”  He wanted to know where he was BEFORE all of that went down.  Before he existed.  Esoteric for anyone, much less a three year old, no?

So I explained that some people say that babies are just a twinkle in their father’s eye.  Weird.  And sometimes people say that babies are angels in Heaven before God sends them down to earth.  Pause, two, three, four… “Did you rip off my wings, Mommy?!”

Yes, Baby Boy.  Yes, I ripped off your wings.  There’s only room for one angel in these here parts.  Because have you heard?  Garth Brooks says I’m an angel. 

With that sweet memory re-lived and my breath caught, I start back up running on the treadmill.  We angels have to keep up appearances, ya know.