Here’s this week’s Smartmom from the award-winning Brooklyn Paper.

The night before Thanksgiving, Smartmom registered for the Turkey Trot, the annual five-mile race sponsored by the Park Slope Track Club.

In the basement of Jack Rabbit, she was given her race number, an electronic running chip, and plastic ties to attach it to her running shoes. Unfortunately, they’d run out of Turkey Trot black backpacks and special booty.

“We were expecting 1,000 runners but many more registered,” an organizer told her.

Out on Seventh Avenue, Smartmom checked her number, 1610 (the ages of her two children, Smartmom realized). It also said, “Female, age 49.”

“Nice,” she thought. “Do they have to make it so friggin’ obvious?”

It’s not that Smartmom wants to hide the fact that she’s 49. She just doesn’t like to broadcast it to all of Park Slope.

Why not just publish it in the newspaper while they’re at it?

When she got home, Smartmom didn’t tell Hepcat that she was going to trot the Trot. She didn’t even mention it to Teen Spirit or the Oh So Feisty One. It’s not that she wanted to be the stealth runner. Or it was some kind secret. She just didn’t want to make a big deal about it.

No “Go Mom” signs or familial cheerleading squads for Smartmom. Not that she would have to worry about that. The likelihood of Teen Spirit and OSFO standing on the sidelines of Prospect Park with a “Go Mom” sign at 9 am on Thanksgiving morning was close to nil.

And that was fine by Smartmom, because she wanted to do the race Greta Garbo style. In other words, she vanted to be alone (with more than 1,000 strangers, that is).

The Turkey Trot was something Smartmom always wanted to do and this year seemed as good a year as any. For one thing, their family Thanksgiving didn’t begin until 6 pm and it was in a restaurant in Manhattan.
Naomi Village: In the heart of the Poconos

No muss, no fuss.

Also, Smartmom has been running the 3.3-mile loop around the park a few times a week. And being 15 pounds lighter, she’s feeling quite fit and sprightly.

And it’s not like Smartmom hasn’t run a race before. She ran the Brooklyn half-marathon in March, 2005. That’s 13 miles from the Coney Island Boardwalk to the loops of Prospect Park. Impressed?

So, Smartmom figured why not? She especially liked the idea of running off the Thanksgiving turkey (stuffing, sweet potatoes and pumpkin pie) even before she’d eaten it.

Is it possible to lose weight on Thanksgiving?

The weather on Thanksgiving morning couldn’t have been better. Unseasonably warm and sunny, it was the kind of morning that makes you want to sing Handel’s “Messiah” or at least “Joy to the World” by Three Dog Night.

And talk about reasons to be thankful: Smartmom wanted to give thanks to Kirsten at Slope Sports for recommending the snazzy blue and silver Saucony running shoes on her feet.

She wanted to thank her high school principal, Phineas Anderson, who coached the Walden girl’s track team and taught her how to run. She wanted to thank her legs, which have held her up all these years.

Most of all, she wanted to thank the universe for making this a Thanksgiving without worries (for the time being) about homework, middle school, money, getting a book published before she’s 50, family illness, and marital squabbles about basement clean ups.

It was a day to run, and Smartmom was going to go for it.

On Thanksgiving morning, Smartmom tiptoed out of the bedroom so as not to wake her sleeping giant of a husband. She quietly passed Teen Spirit’s bedroom so as not to wake her sleeping giant of a teenage son (wait a minute, he’s not even in his bedroom…where is that boy?).

Smartmom arrived on the north side of Prospect Park at 8:45 and at exactly 9, there was a gunshot and 1,200 runners were off and running (at various speeds).

All sizes, all shapes, all colors, all abilities, all genders, the Turkey Trot is the perfect Brooklyn race.

Most of all, Smartmom loved the bystanders who seemed to take great pleasure in cheering runners they didn’t even know.

“Looking good.” “Way to go.” “You can do it.”

Smartmom took the race nice and slow. A solid 11-minute miler, she actually enjoyed the run and didn’t even struggle going up the famous hill at Battle Pass. After mile four, she did develop a stitch, but belly breathing helped her control the pain and in the last minute of the race, she actually sprinted to the end, finishing in just over 55 minutes.

Walking back to Third Street, Smartmom kept checking her iPhone to see if anyone was wondering where she was. Maybe OSFO woke up and thought to call. How about Hepcat? Wasn’t he wondering why half the bed was EMPTY?

Smartmom wanted to tell someone, anyone: “I just ran the Turkey Trot. Yea for me.”

But that wasn’t the point. She could have told her family about the race. She could have asked her kids or Diaper Diva to be there.

So why did she feel the need to do it Greta Garbo style?

Could it be that Smartmom is afraid of being the center of attention around her children?

While she is eager to carve out a slice of her life for herself, she’s ambivalent about doing it in front of Hepcat and the kids.

Buddha knows, she needs to get in touch with her own body and her own thoughts and for that she needs to go solo.

While still being a devoted mother and wife, Smartmom vants to be an independent self and sometimes that means running alone.