Don't you think that there should be a magazine catering to average mom? We can call it Average Mom Magazine. You know, for the average mom: not bragging, not falling behind...
The one who doesn't completely have it all...
Just average. And I mean this in a good way. I know I'm not the overachiever. I am one with it. I do some things well and I accept that I do some things (like running and potty training--and not together, by the way) not-so-well... Really, I'm a straight up downthemiddle typea mom who doesn't claim to have it all, who feels overwhelmed pretty much most of the time but appreciates herself, her life, and her average-ness and as a bonus, doesn't completely lose it all the time. Just some of the time. You know, average.
Because on Saturday, it will be my final triathlon of the year (it's the final triathlon of the season for pretty much everyone because colder weather is moving in.) And in looking back, I was thinking (out loud to my husband who completely agrees) about how much training there is involved with training for a triathlon. It's just the slightest bit more hectic and crazy than regular working out for 5 or 6 days a week because it's so specific and you have to follow some sort of schedule or plan, you can't just throw in workouts, and the workouts are kind of long so you kind of have to plan them out ahead of time and it usually affects the order of everything and everyone else's schedule. All the workouts have labels like "long run" and "interval training" and recovery workout". And as an added bonus, my kids have gotten used to saying "Bye, Mommy!" Which makes me feel kind of bad.
It becomes kind of like a job in terms of hours logged and not missing any workouts and you're not getting paid for it (except in cardiovascular and muscular endurance and healthy-ness and stuff like that, which I know, is value in and of itself, blah blah blah). And then on top of that it's all just for competing against myself, really, because let's face it, I ain't winnin' no prizes at the finish line. Because I'm average and in triathlon, barely even that. Because I'm realistic too.
And plus I think my current sponsor (my husband) wants to drop me. Just kidding. Sort of.
So I was wondering. How come all the major sponsorships are saved for the elite athletes? You know, those ones who actually win first or second or third place? Why can't a sponsor be proud enough to sponsor just another average mom, a midpacker or backpacker, just truckin along and gettin it done? Why do they have to sponsor people who are all good and stuff? Isn't there a sponsor or a product who would like to sponsor me, Average Mom, so I can represent the average mom doing sports that they are not masters of and probably never will, but they finish and it's darned hard packing triathlons into family life
and running with post-partum bladder issues? Average Mom (and not just me, there are plenty of us out there!) should get at least something for that!
It's like the opposite of the saying, "No prize for second place!" Except there are prizes for second place and in my particular scenario, it's not even for second place, it's more like 25th or 40th. I happen to think that's a great idea!
What product wouldn't benefit from showcasing Average Mom? Dove does it! Look how fantastic that idea was, it was brilliant! (Oh wait. That's perfect! Hey, Dove! would you like to sponsor me? I'll even show off my Average Mom body, crooked teeth, freckles, stretch marks and all!)
Think about it, potential sponsors! Forget the Lance Armstrongs of the world! Here's an Average Mom right here, ready to target all your regular moms like me who are waiting till their husbands come home to train for something, who miss workouts they can't miss so they can wipe their children's noses and can't find a sitter, one who still has some cellulite despite all the working out she's doing and rides along in her mini-van that she tries to make cooler by putting a "triathlon" sticker on the back of it while rocking out to nursery rhymes.
But noooooo. All the sponsorships have to go to the really good athletes! The ones who have actual talent or something. It's so unfair!
(Am I making my case at all here? No? Darn.) Ok well I'll list the pros and cons. Or maybe just the pros because I'm not just Average Mom, I'm Cup-Half-Full Girl.
If I had a sponsor then that would solve two problems for me: number 1. rationalizing all this working out and and the time spent doing it while having a family and not winning anything and such and number 2. rationalizing all the working out and the time spent doing it while having a family and not winning anything and such, which includes not getting paid. The only money involved is going out! Not in!
And it's kind of hard after, say, the third triathlon, to tell your husband that you want to keep doing this next season (an even longer one, too! which means longer training) without his rolling his eyes directly at you when really he should be getting the Husband of the Year Award for coming straight home after work every night so you can get your workouts in, or watching the kids for 3 or 4 hours Saturday and Sunday mornings so you can get your long bikes or runs or swims in, (not to mention having the whole family cater events to your workout schedule) and then the wonderful husband only kind of sort of cringes each time you pay that ridiculous registration fee for whatever event you want to participate in, and oh look! Goody goody! She needs a bike too! And an outfit, and helmet and gloves and clip-in shoes and othersuch equipment in addition to all these ridiculous fees, oh! And she wants to join a club too! How nice.
I know. He's my Husband of the Year. Don't think I don't recognize his efforts and support.
But a sponsorship really would soften that blow and make my case for continuing.
Don't you think?
So contact me, oh dear company, if you want to be represented by someone who just shows up to athletic events with the goal of not finishing last. I promise I'll represent (e-mail is right there on my sidebar).
And thanks in advance from my husband and my kids.
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