Well I flippn' DID IT.
I ran 13.1 miles. I mapped out my course, measured it with a car, checked the road and weather conditions, and set out to do it. And I did it. I was slow, I didn't quite hit my target time - but hell, I delivered a 9 lb baby earlier this year so I think I will give myself some credit for getting my butt out there instead of focusing on missing my time goal.
I started strong. In fact, the first 9 miles whizzed by almost effortlessly. I was making amazing time - for me - I thought - whoa girl! Slow down if you're going to hold out! The Husband put the kiddos in the car and met me at some appointed meetup spots along the route - and some surprise spots too! It was great having them yell and cheer and random intervals. I drank water the whole time and sucked down a gross gel that actually had fabulous effect on my disposition as I got a little tired. One of the benefits of running an unofficial half marathon, ie; "The My Own Damned Half Marathon" marathon was that I could sleep in a little extra, go when I was ready, get the kids fed first, and head out on my own time, coordinating around feeding times and naps. I left around 11:45 am. I had hoped to pull in around 2pm with a perfectly respectable 10 min mile average.
Down the river, over the bridge, and thru the woods spanning three towns and tons of delicious fall foliage. The weather was crisp and cool - perfect for running. The visibility was great - just mildly overcast enough so that I was not awash in shadows as I ran along the shoulder of the road. Cars could see me well.
And so for 9 miles I flew along. And it was good.
Here's something to think about - TOPOGRAPHY.
You know, hills?
A little something I didn't consider to heavily while charting my course. Sure, I knew there was a mild grade in the road near the end. I knew there were a few little hills at the very very end. No biggie, I thought. I've run up hills before. They do not scare me. Well, driving up a mild grade for 4 miles in a truck and running up them straight up for the last 4 miles are glaringly different experiences. Needless to say - I began hurting bad. My excellent 9.5 min miles got slapped in the face as I ground down to a shuffling chuffing huff. But the heck with it. I kept going, albeit slow, I talked myself through it and I FINISHED. My knees yelled at me, "Hey! You are NOT 20 anymore! Whaddya think you're doing to us?!" I told them to shut up they've been through worse marching around the Appalachian Trails of New England and carrying me through two giant pregnancies. They protested, but I slogged on, er, up. I finished. Shaky, happy, sore. My family cheered. I iced my knees and today I feel fine.
Next time, yes, there WILL be a next time, I will go in reverse order and give myself the lovely advantage of heading downhill for the first 4 miles. I earned it. ;-)
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
The Legend of the Half Marathon with Three in a Stroller
This true legend was discussed in Train Like a Mother. Once upon a time, there was a mother runner. She went out for an early morning run with 3 kids in a stroller. One fell asleep the whole time, one was happy telling stories and counting to 100, and the little baby was oblivious, they were all content to sit for a long time, so she...
Nice, motivating things I try to remember to tell myself on a run:
"I CAN and I WILL"
"Did deep, go long"
"Sometimes you just DO things" - Scott Jurek
"Just get on with it" - Natalia Vodianova- unlikely source of inspiration from a supermodel who never runs. She does a half marathon during fashion week for her cause with no training. Mother of 3. She says it's like labor - just get on with it!
I was in labor for 24 hours last time. 36 the time before that. I can run fast for 2.
I am disappointed. Sunday was the Half Marathon I trained for but missed. I made excuses. I could have done it, but I chickened out. Entry fee too expensive, too long to be away from home with nursing baby. Couldn't have husband and kids waiting around for three plus hours downtown in the cold. The bridge to our house is closed during marathon, so getting in/out would've been a hassle, etc etc. Blah blah blah. Government shutdown made us broke. Why did I make all these excuses? Can I really be that cheap that I don't want to spend $65 on an entry fee? These entry really fees add up. I keep to a fearsomely strict budget. Christmas and birthdays are coming. I honestly just couldn't bring myself to do it. There it is.
SO, I resolved to do the My Own Damned Half Marathon next weekend. That's the official name. I planned my route. The fam can see me off, pick me up at the end, and drive by along to the way to cheer & bring me water and see that I haven't yet keeled over. My husband thinks I am crazy. That's OK. I don't need him to get it. I just need him to entertain our small people for a while and bring me a water and maybe a gross gel.
So instead of battling hoards of marathon crowds we got some family pics taken by my pal who's starting up her photo biz. Good luck Sally T. Johnston! We went to the park. Played hide & seek made dinner. It was actually a really nice day but I couldn't shake my disappointment. It was anti-climactic like when I did the triathlon. I got a kind of deflated feeling after. A letdown. Bah.
I've got do it next weekend. I've trained for it, I've prepared, now I've just got to DO it. No excuses. Then I will feel better, right? Because I will have at least satisfied the itch to achieve the goal I have built up in my mind for so many dedicated weeks.
Slow miles are better than no miles.
There.
just. kept. going.
This woman, whoever and wherever she may be, should have a statue made
and be revered as a warrior goddess. Her children should also be
applauded for their endurance and good behavior. Can this even be real?
Three children for 13.1 miles?!? I can barely do 2 kids for 5 miles
until the wheels fall off (metaphorically). That is just about how long
the magical combo of raisins/goldfish/phone apps will take me. I
estimate I push approximately 60 plus lbs of children, gear, and
stroller. We as mothers absolutely MUST get extra credit for that. Not
sure how that would equate into extra mileage, but it MUST count for
something besides tenacity, endurance, and the stubborn determination to
run. Surely there is a physics person out there who can factor this all together.Nice, motivating things I try to remember to tell myself on a run:
"I CAN and I WILL"
"Did deep, go long"
"Sometimes you just DO things" - Scott Jurek
"Just get on with it" - Natalia Vodianova- unlikely source of inspiration from a supermodel who never runs. She does a half marathon during fashion week for her cause with no training. Mother of 3. She says it's like labor - just get on with it!
I was in labor for 24 hours last time. 36 the time before that. I can run fast for 2.
---
SO, I resolved to do the My Own Damned Half Marathon next weekend. That's the official name. I planned my route. The fam can see me off, pick me up at the end, and drive by along to the way to cheer & bring me water and see that I haven't yet keeled over. My husband thinks I am crazy. That's OK. I don't need him to get it. I just need him to entertain our small people for a while and bring me a water and maybe a gross gel.
So instead of battling hoards of marathon crowds we got some family pics taken by my pal who's starting up her photo biz. Good luck Sally T. Johnston! We went to the park. Played hide & seek made dinner. It was actually a really nice day but I couldn't shake my disappointment. It was anti-climactic like when I did the triathlon. I got a kind of deflated feeling after. A letdown. Bah.
I've got do it next weekend. I've trained for it, I've prepared, now I've just got to DO it. No excuses. Then I will feel better, right? Because I will have at least satisfied the itch to achieve the goal I have built up in my mind for so many dedicated weeks.
Slow miles are better than no miles.
There.
Friday, October 18, 2013
Why I run
Why I Run aka My Longest Post Ever
When I was fourteen years old I started smoking. My formative years were spent huffing and puffing and chuffing around, wishing I could quit. I was just so damned anxious and depressed all the time, and smoking was... a smokescreen for it all. A bandaid. If only I had known then what good medicine running would have been for all that. I did try the track team for about a week in eighth grade. Ran my first mile at a meet - then - baaarf. All over myself & the coach. So sorry Mr. Flaherty. So, I decided, sports were not for me and chose the route of distressed and angsty, artsy, chain-smoking grunge grrl. I resigned myself to the fact that I would never really run far or fast or enjoy it. I spent the next 13 years believing that I couldn't and wouldn't.
That same year in 8th grade, I learned another thing that would burrow in my mind and become a source of inspiration to this very day, 22 years later. Mr. Svensen, my geography teacher. Rumor had it he had been a 2 pack a day smoker, gave them up, and ran 9 miles before school everyday. I don't know how accurate that it was - 9 miles is a long way to go before school, but no matter. He was lean and lanky and it seemed entirely possible this was his routine. Etched into my brain that little nugget-o-data was there to stay. A measure of possibility to store away for the future.
I believe I was a little trouble maker in his class. We butted heads famously. He was very strict, held us to very high standards, and honed my love of travel and culture. I pushed back a lot, but what I needed the most at that time, though I'd be loathe to admit it then, was structure and strictness. Most adults were willing to allow me to get away with a lot, nobody really expected a lot from me it seemed - but he did and he demanded my best. I wish I could find him to thank him. Thank you Arthur Svensen, wherever you may be. Your inspiration continues to this day!
Green Blue Green. This is my rhythm when I run. It is TREES SKY BUSHES. GRASS RIVER TREES. LAND SKY WATER. It becomes the rhythm of the earth itself, a little marble spinning in the vastness of space. greenbluegreen spinning. It carries me. This was the rhythm that carried me along my very first 9 mile run, just a few weeks ago. A personal record for distance, and something I never in my life I thought I could do.
I gave up smoking (the first time) when I was 27. I had stopped smoking for a few days when I realized a really needed a physical release for my decades of pent up anxiety or I would become homicidal. My lungs' ability could not match the driving force within me and I was very frustrated after getting winded completely after 1/4 mile. But I resolved to do better, go further the next time. So I did. I made it a half mile. And the next time 3/4 mile. When I ever ran that first full mile - what sweet victory! I didn't care about speed or time - I flippin' DID it! It was pure pleasure - the sheer joy of movement - of commanding my body to do something, working towards a seemingly unlikely goal and MAKING it happen. That was a first for me. It was so sweet. And I felt to good after. So relaxed and calm. What a gift.
Sadly, that was the first but not the last time I quit. But I HAD found a new habit to replace the old one - and it stuck. Over the next 6 years I'd smoke on & off, though never like I had up to that point. And I always ran a little further and a little faster. I had setbacks - my Dad died of cancer, three years later I lost my best friend. I'd briefly return to the comfort of my addiction. Then I got married and became pregnant with my first. Quit those buggers in a real hurry! After packing on about 45 lbs during pregnancy I decided then that I wanted to train for a sprint triathlon to get back into pre-baby shape. So I started training and - BAM -pregnant with my second. 2 babies in a span of 3 years. Now THAT gave me some major respect for all the transformative power and strength the female body is capable of. The physical journey of motherhood has been both very humbling and empowering.
So here I am, running faster and further than I ever thought possible. Make no mistake - I am NOT a fast runner. But I am fast or me. I go long for me. At this point in the game, I measure my success by getting my ass up off the couch and out the door. Once I'm outside, the rest is gravy.
Running now has spiritual value for me as well. It is a time to quiet my mind and give thanks. Or to just be present. I observe life. A little girl in a white dress and pink crocks, delicately plucking clover and placing them in her bike basket. A woman sitting on a park bench with an old-school hand held radio listening to french music (Edith Piaf?) being broadcast from the local university. She is smiling gently. A short, stout, stern looking Asian man with a large growth on his forehead. They are all so real, so beautiful when I run past them. So human. I fall in love with them all, a little bit. I fall in love with people when I'm in that place. All until I almost get run over by some jackass who doesn't stop for pedestrians, but even that makes me...alive. After all the mental chatter ebbs I connect to something greater than myself in a spirit of gratitude. That is - when I'm not too absorbed by doling out goldfish and raisins if the kids are along. My portable cheering section can be a little distracting.
Which brings me to - The Legend of the Half-Marathon with 3 in a Stroller.....
More on that one next time....
When I was fourteen years old I started smoking. My formative years were spent huffing and puffing and chuffing around, wishing I could quit. I was just so damned anxious and depressed all the time, and smoking was... a smokescreen for it all. A bandaid. If only I had known then what good medicine running would have been for all that. I did try the track team for about a week in eighth grade. Ran my first mile at a meet - then - baaarf. All over myself & the coach. So sorry Mr. Flaherty. So, I decided, sports were not for me and chose the route of distressed and angsty, artsy, chain-smoking grunge grrl. I resigned myself to the fact that I would never really run far or fast or enjoy it. I spent the next 13 years believing that I couldn't and wouldn't.
That same year in 8th grade, I learned another thing that would burrow in my mind and become a source of inspiration to this very day, 22 years later. Mr. Svensen, my geography teacher. Rumor had it he had been a 2 pack a day smoker, gave them up, and ran 9 miles before school everyday. I don't know how accurate that it was - 9 miles is a long way to go before school, but no matter. He was lean and lanky and it seemed entirely possible this was his routine. Etched into my brain that little nugget-o-data was there to stay. A measure of possibility to store away for the future.
I believe I was a little trouble maker in his class. We butted heads famously. He was very strict, held us to very high standards, and honed my love of travel and culture. I pushed back a lot, but what I needed the most at that time, though I'd be loathe to admit it then, was structure and strictness. Most adults were willing to allow me to get away with a lot, nobody really expected a lot from me it seemed - but he did and he demanded my best. I wish I could find him to thank him. Thank you Arthur Svensen, wherever you may be. Your inspiration continues to this day!
Green Blue Green. This is my rhythm when I run. It is TREES SKY BUSHES. GRASS RIVER TREES. LAND SKY WATER. It becomes the rhythm of the earth itself, a little marble spinning in the vastness of space. greenbluegreen spinning. It carries me. This was the rhythm that carried me along my very first 9 mile run, just a few weeks ago. A personal record for distance, and something I never in my life I thought I could do.
I gave up smoking (the first time) when I was 27. I had stopped smoking for a few days when I realized a really needed a physical release for my decades of pent up anxiety or I would become homicidal. My lungs' ability could not match the driving force within me and I was very frustrated after getting winded completely after 1/4 mile. But I resolved to do better, go further the next time. So I did. I made it a half mile. And the next time 3/4 mile. When I ever ran that first full mile - what sweet victory! I didn't care about speed or time - I flippin' DID it! It was pure pleasure - the sheer joy of movement - of commanding my body to do something, working towards a seemingly unlikely goal and MAKING it happen. That was a first for me. It was so sweet. And I felt to good after. So relaxed and calm. What a gift.
Sadly, that was the first but not the last time I quit. But I HAD found a new habit to replace the old one - and it stuck. Over the next 6 years I'd smoke on & off, though never like I had up to that point. And I always ran a little further and a little faster. I had setbacks - my Dad died of cancer, three years later I lost my best friend. I'd briefly return to the comfort of my addiction. Then I got married and became pregnant with my first. Quit those buggers in a real hurry! After packing on about 45 lbs during pregnancy I decided then that I wanted to train for a sprint triathlon to get back into pre-baby shape. So I started training and - BAM -pregnant with my second. 2 babies in a span of 3 years. Now THAT gave me some major respect for all the transformative power and strength the female body is capable of. The physical journey of motherhood has been both very humbling and empowering.
So here I am, running faster and further than I ever thought possible. Make no mistake - I am NOT a fast runner. But I am fast or me. I go long for me. At this point in the game, I measure my success by getting my ass up off the couch and out the door. Once I'm outside, the rest is gravy.
Running now has spiritual value for me as well. It is a time to quiet my mind and give thanks. Or to just be present. I observe life. A little girl in a white dress and pink crocks, delicately plucking clover and placing them in her bike basket. A woman sitting on a park bench with an old-school hand held radio listening to french music (Edith Piaf?) being broadcast from the local university. She is smiling gently. A short, stout, stern looking Asian man with a large growth on his forehead. They are all so real, so beautiful when I run past them. So human. I fall in love with them all, a little bit. I fall in love with people when I'm in that place. All until I almost get run over by some jackass who doesn't stop for pedestrians, but even that makes me...alive. After all the mental chatter ebbs I connect to something greater than myself in a spirit of gratitude. That is - when I'm not too absorbed by doling out goldfish and raisins if the kids are along. My portable cheering section can be a little distracting.
Which brings me to - The Legend of the Half-Marathon with 3 in a Stroller.....
More on that one next time....
Thursday, October 10, 2013
How International Travel Prepared Me for Motherhood
Here's how those 12-16 hour flights to Asia gave me endurance for motherhood:
When the flight/nighttime slumberfest ends and deboarding/debedding process begins, the overwhelming relief and freedom of movement can be exquisite. Celebratory even! Vertebrae will pop happily back into place. Stretching is blissful. There looms the delicious anticipation of hot showers and hot coffee to rinse away the accumulated grime of travel and/or sweaty sleeplessness. You've groggily arrived at your destination and can now exhaustedly carry on with the rest of your day!
- Space Restrictions
- A child/children/seatmate(s) wedged into your very limited personal space
- Physical Obstructions
- A seat arm/stranger's elbow/plastic toy wedged in your ribs/back/kidney
- A face/foot/knee/elbow in your face, implausibly wherever you move your face
- Poor Air Quality
- Hot breath/snoring/stinky flatulence permeating your vicinity
- Just as you doze off your child/children/seatmate will move and wake you up about every 5-10 minutes for 6-8 hours. Someone WILL cry or mumble incoherently.
- Getting up to use the bathroom is a major athletic event that will require the delicately synchronized cooperation of several individuals
When the flight/nighttime slumberfest ends and deboarding/debedding process begins, the overwhelming relief and freedom of movement can be exquisite. Celebratory even! Vertebrae will pop happily back into place. Stretching is blissful. There looms the delicious anticipation of hot showers and hot coffee to rinse away the accumulated grime of travel and/or sweaty sleeplessness. You've groggily arrived at your destination and can now exhaustedly carry on with the rest of your day!
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
Government Shut Down
Really?
Really?
This is unbelievably lame. This is like two warring parents who are so selfish and really only hurting their children (the American people). I am not going to wax political here. It makes me sick and that is all I will say. I could go on for days, but I'd rather get on with the task at hand.
It seems to have stalled my posting, because, I am embarrassed to say, if the shutdown continues, I am not sure if I can justify the entry fee for the race. What? I haven't registered yet?!? I know, I know....slacker procrastinator here. I have been glued to CNN all week. Gross. But no income for the time being, although they guarantee back pay for furloughed employees, that's a well and good, but I can't really justify a $65 fee in the midst of all this madness.
THIS IS NOT A PITY PARTY. Not looking for help. Too damned self-reliant Yankee for that. These are just the facts of the situation. I am still training. I can run my own damn half marathon myself. I could afford it if I really wanted it, but in the light of the recent situation it seems rather frivolous for our budget. I like the excitement and camaraderie of a race. I also like looking up stats and times on coolrunnings. But honestly, this is about proving to myself that I can go the distance so I can go the distance on my own time in my own manner on my own route with my husband & kids cheering from the sidelines.
Silver lining: Government shut down = more time to train!
I enjoyed some really gorgeous autumn long, cool, crisp runs last week.
Government can't shut THIS down, bitch!
Really?
This is unbelievably lame. This is like two warring parents who are so selfish and really only hurting their children (the American people). I am not going to wax political here. It makes me sick and that is all I will say. I could go on for days, but I'd rather get on with the task at hand.
It seems to have stalled my posting, because, I am embarrassed to say, if the shutdown continues, I am not sure if I can justify the entry fee for the race. What? I haven't registered yet?!? I know, I know....slacker procrastinator here. I have been glued to CNN all week. Gross. But no income for the time being, although they guarantee back pay for furloughed employees, that's a well and good, but I can't really justify a $65 fee in the midst of all this madness.
THIS IS NOT A PITY PARTY. Not looking for help. Too damned self-reliant Yankee for that. These are just the facts of the situation. I am still training. I can run my own damn half marathon myself. I could afford it if I really wanted it, but in the light of the recent situation it seems rather frivolous for our budget. I like the excitement and camaraderie of a race. I also like looking up stats and times on coolrunnings. But honestly, this is about proving to myself that I can go the distance so I can go the distance on my own time in my own manner on my own route with my husband & kids cheering from the sidelines.
Silver lining: Government shut down = more time to train!
I enjoyed some really gorgeous autumn long, cool, crisp runs last week.
Government can't shut THIS down, bitch!
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
Why a blog? Why now? Aren't You a Bit Late to the Party?
Where was this blog when we were potty training? And more importantly, does the world need another blog about the misadventures of potty training? Probably not. I think Amber Dusick has said it all in Parenting with Crappy Illustrations. It is my absolute favorite, and my artistic inspiration. The blog I would like to make if it didn't exist already. Thanks for the many laughs, Amber.
But, being that motherhood involves lots of poop miss-haps there will be some of those stories here too. I have actually wanted to have a blog for a long time, but had some anxiety about whether or not it would be original or funny enough. Then I realize, I don't care. HA! How liberating! I don't NEED a "reason". I just want to DO it. My friend Becky and possibly one or two other people might be amused and so that is good enough for me. ;-}
Plus, it will keep me accountable to make fun of things regularly and stick to my training schedule. What better use of blogosphere and bandwidth? <sarcasm>
In my obscure little nook of the interwebs, I will have a little creative outlet here for myself and my own amusement. If it amuses others too, all the better.
But, being that motherhood involves lots of poop miss-haps there will be some of those stories here too. I have actually wanted to have a blog for a long time, but had some anxiety about whether or not it would be original or funny enough. Then I realize, I don't care. HA! How liberating! I don't NEED a "reason". I just want to DO it. My friend Becky and possibly one or two other people might be amused and so that is good enough for me. ;-}
Plus, it will keep me accountable to make fun of things regularly and stick to my training schedule. What better use of blogosphere and bandwidth? <sarcasm>
In my obscure little nook of the interwebs, I will have a little creative outlet here for myself and my own amusement. If it amuses others too, all the better.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Breaking Bad Affectionate Rant
Breaking Bad Commentary - No Spoilers please.
I am working my way through the marathon on my DVR, and am immensely enjoying the show. Also glad I waited this long so I can plow through them all at once. However!
I do take issue with a few elements regarding pregnancy and childbirth.
Skylar is 40yrs old. Pregnant. Has a back pain at work. “oh! Ow!” Makes a sad little uncomfortable face. Suddenly pops out a kid and hour later. Give me a fucking break. More like 12 hours later, if she’s lucky. A few days after she is running around with her hair done wearing makeup and skinny jeans with her flat stomach. What ?!?! I call bullshit!!!! nonononono. That’s all Hollywood LIES.
Please. More accurately: Greasy ponytail. Bloated as hell from the IV they forced her to have because of her age and low levels of fluid. NO MAKEUP. Maternity sweatpants cuz that belly still looks six months pregnant. She is also crying for no reason and sitting in a green haze of post-natal flatulence. Smear some baby vomit on her shoulder and NOW we are TALKING! Can we have some reality here puh-leez? They can make the meth heads look authentic enough? WTF?
Oh, also, when she’s like, “Oh hey we’re out of diapers, could you pick some up?” What? When the HELL has anyone run out of newborn diapers? First off, in a previous episode there were literally BOXES of them lying around, people give you metric tons during a shower, and managing baby shit is your primary objective. If you even get down to a dozen you start getting panicky. There’s no all “cas” remark like oh hey we’re out……
It’s more like HOLY FUCK THERE'S NO MORE DIAPERS HOW DID WE LET THIS HAPPEN OHMYGOD! GO TO THE FUCKING STORE RIGHT NOW! There’s no popping in to the pub for a pint. There no BS about 3 stores ran out and now I’m at Walmart. Come ON!
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