“She’s gonna be a runner!” Maybe. Maybe not.

“She’s going to be a runner!”

My 13 month old daughter gets this alot.

At 13 months old, she knows that ducks say “quack” and that dogs say “woof.” But she doesn’t know the meaning of this sentence.  I do. She may want be a runner. She may not want to be a runner. It will be her choice. I want her to do whatever makes her happy. But she will be a physically active child. This she will have no choice in.

Only 7% of Canadian children get the recommended 60 minutes of physical activity per day. This statistic is embarrassing. And as a mother,  it scares me.

I was thinking about whether she’ll want to be a runner at the recent Blue Nose marathon.  The Blue Nose was a big family event in my family. My two sisters and I all ran while raising money for Nova Scotia-Gambia Association’s Love4Gambia campaign.

I’ll sign my daughter up for children’s races when she is old enough. My guess is that in her youngest years, she’ll love doing what mommy does.

When she’s old enough to choose what she wants to do, I’ll take a page out of my own parents’ book: lots of freedom to try and quit activities. My parents now joke that I was great at quitting as a kid. I tried everything:

Brownies: too shy, quit.

Swimming: complained all the time, finished bronze medalion then quit.

Art: too boring, quit.

Ballet: not place for tall, lanky and clumsy girl, quit before classes even ended.

Synchronized swimming: removed from team as could not float.

Rhythmic gymnastics: quit (see ballet and synchro, lol).

Soccer: not much talent, no friends on team, quit.

Softball: not much talent but fun to play in the summer as had friends on team. Played for 3 years in high school.

Basketball: not much talent but good at the running and fitness part and played for 3 years in high school.

The running stuck. I haven’t quit.

At the beginning of this year’s Blue Nose, I stood proudly and excitedly at the start line with my sister, Kristen. My sister Laura was waiting to line up next for the 10km race.

The same thing always happens to me at the start of a big race. When the race announcer begins to speak, I have a flashback of my first ever race, the 2005 Blue Nose Half Marathon.  Then I feel a powerful surge of emotion. I feel overwhelmed with joy for running, for my fellow running community and for the friends, family and strangers that line the course. I feel crazily lucky that I have this sport, this thing I love. When the start gun fires, when “Eye of the Tiger” begin to blare, I have tears in my eyes. I feel absurdly happy.

While I don’t wish for my daughter to choose running because I run, I do wish for her to find something that gives her this feeling.

I feel like if she can find this feeling, she has a better chance of not being on the failing side of Canada’s physical activity for children stats.