SALT LAKE CITY — I have a confession to make. I am a fraud. Yes, it’s out there. I have a wall full of race medals, posters and awards that are not really mine.

Maybe “fraud” is too strong of a word, but it’s now I feel. See, every time I finish a race or win an award I’m met with congratulations and pats on the back. I’m told that I did a great job and have achieved something wonderful.

This always makes me a little uncomfortable. Not because I’m not proud of my running accomplishments, but because I don’t consider them mine.

Just as they say it takes a village to raise a child, it takes a village to make a runner.

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This really hit home a few weeks ago when my husband headed out of town for eight days to supervise the high school baseball team on their spring trip. This meant it was just me and our girls for the week. Besides the fact I was in charge of taking out the garbage, giving baths and making my own last-minute trips to the store, I was also fully in charge of taking care of our offspring.

My motherly instincts, and the law, dictate I could not leave such young children at home alone, so those afternoon outdoor runs were out of the question unless I could find a babysitter.

And that’s where my village came in.

I had a half-marathon on the calendar that week as well as a few outdoor “sanity” runs and the fact that I still planned on running them meant I had a community of friends and family who supported me and my love of running enough to watch my kids so I could get my fix. This time, it was my brother and his family who set aside their Saturday morning to feed my kids Froot Loops while I indulged my passion.

Without them, I simply couldn’t do what I do. I could run on the treadmill each morning, which I usually do each weekday, but races and luxurious outdoor frolics simply wouldn’t happen.

When my husband is in town, he’s my main support system. He not only watches our kids while I train, but happily drags them from race to race, cheering me on from the sidelines with cowbells and car-chalk decor. On our first trip to Boston, he was man enough to battle the masses for three hours just to watch me run by in ten seconds. With a smile, no less.

A few years ago I had a friend who brought her daughter up to Park City to watch our kids in our hotel room so both my husband and I could run the full and half marathon. They even stuck around to watch me finish, even though my husband was done well before me. It was a rough day and it meant the world to me to see them there.

You see, without my friends and family, my running wouldn’t mean much. I would still love it, but the encouragement I get from my village means more to me than any medal. I know through their actions that what is important to me is also important to them.

I’ve not had to deal with disapproving comments about being a selfish mom. They know running makes me a better, stronger, happier mom. And my girls are growing up with the understanding it is important to take care of yourself and take time for yourself. Moms aren’t martyrs.

When I do get those medals, I feel as though I were taking full credit for an accomplishment I only took a small part in. Each one of my friends and family who support me deserves their own medal. It’s because of them that I am a runner at all.

Until I can get some medals made, they just need to know how grateful I am for their help. And how grateful my kids are for Froot Loops!

Kim Cowart is a wife, mother, 24-Hour Fitness instructor and marathoner who is proud to wear all of these titles. Read more of her work on the Deseret News blog, Reason s to Run.

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