June 2010

The Never-Ending Journey

And with a single leap, Amelia enters another year.

Seven years ago today, a journey started at at 5:13 a.m.. Motherhood. Intensely scared, intensely happy, intensely hormonal, intensely difficult. Intense.

That day, my body worked harder than it ever had before. The scariest part? I wasn’t in control. The pain came and came and I couldn’t make it stop. “If I just had five minutes to gather myself,” I told my husband, “I’d be good.”

No walk breaks in labor, unfortunately. No walk breaks in parenthood either.

But plenty of time to reflect in parenthood, even if I have to lock myself in my bathroom to escape from my screaming kids. (Guilty as charged. More than once. Most recently: during an interview with a (single, male) newspaper reporter about Run Like A Mother. When it was clear the door wasn’t drowning out their shrieks, I asked him, “Now do you understand why I run?”)

A few things I’ve noted as along the way:

—I’m much less patient than I pretend to be; I’m much more of a control freak than I wish I was; my tolerance for loud noises, especially before 7 a.m and even if I’ve already run to get my crazies out, is meager; and I despise any toy that A) requires assembly with a included tool; B) has the words “littlest” and “pet shop” somewhere on the box; or C) has any pieces smaller than my thumbnail.

–My ability to love is much deeper and resilient than I ever could have imagined.

–That said, there are times when I don’t actually like my own offspring. Hard to stomach, but true.

–Sense of smell is intensely maternal. My kids’ diapers, puke and farts barely register in my nostrils. But if I walk into a restroom and somebody has just deposited a dirty diaper? Retch. Also, some of my favorite moments are when they sit on my lap and I can take clandestine hits of the sweet smells coming off their necks.

–I would like to never utter these sentences again:
I don’t respond to whining.
How do you ask?
Please wipe.
If you were really hungry, you would eat an apple.
You don’t need more ketchup.

–My body is no longer my own. I’ve nourished with it, I’ve starved it of sleep, I’ve had it crawled over and sat on, I’ve had babies stuck in it and to it, I’ve hauled kids around on it, I’ve had it kicked and bit in frustration. And it’s happy to take the hits for the family team. Except for when I run. Then it belongs only to me.

–A run can’t make everything in my cart-pushing, often frustrating world right, but it’s the best panacea I know. A hug–or just the sight of my kids–at the end of a bad race can make everything right.

–I’m trying to slow down and appreciate more moments. The other day, as the kids were Nascaring their carts around the grocery store (hey: you gotta do what you can to keep it interesting), I apologized to a woman whom they whizzed by on their way to get a chocolate milk box (hey: you gotta to keep the help happy). “I’m sorry,” I said, “They’re crazy.” “No,” she said, “They’re awesome. Awesome.” She said it in such a genuine, warm way, I had to believe her. “You’re right,” I said, “They are awesome.”

–Over the past seven years, I feel like spent approximately 75% of my time either pushing a grocery cart or moving clothes from the washer to the dryer. I’ve often mentally composed a Facebook update around it: “Dimity spends way too much time in the laundry room and grocery store. Just sayin’.” But putting it out there in the universe–just like putting out a more worthy goal, like to run a 10k–makes it more real. So let’s just pretend I haven’t just copped to the fact that I have, for about 84 months, filled my cart with strawberry cream cheese and drenched paint-stained clothes in Shout on a nearly daily basis.

–A friend quoted me the amazing Anne Lamott the other day: “Having a child is like pouring Miracle-Gro on your character defects.” Without going into too much detail–or maybe I already did?–I’ll just say a big Amen to that.

Happy 7th birthday, my sometimes puzzling, always lovey Amelia. Thanks for taking me along for the ride.

(And thanks, RLAM’ers, for reading to the end of this self-indulgent post. Next week: I’m back on form/function/NYC’ing. Promise.)

“Leap and the net will appear.”–Heather

This shirt needs a makeover…

I didn’t post a winner on Friday because I wanted to give two updates: 1. who wins the Asics and 2. whether or not I was going to take on NYC. I’ve read (and reread and reread) all of your comments, and every time, I get a little teary. I felt very self-centered asking you guys to weigh in, but I was overwhelmed and humbled by the responses, even if there was a free pair of shoes attached.

“I think you should go for it but have fun with it and not shoot for a PR. You mentioned you’re craving some order and the satisfaction that comes from having a schedule and this would definitely do it.”–Ellen

 

I honestly didn’t know what to do. And now I do.

Much better…although I look like I’m trying to hitch to NYC, not run it.

Rereading the post, I realize that I underrepresented my injuries. Make no mistake: I’m still struggling–an understatement after spending way too much time in a car and on a plane, the two positions that aggravate my leg the most–and a 30-minute run is plenty for me these days.

My injuries are not a what-if. They’re a what-the-hell.

“I’m a longtime follower of your blog, and given that your propensity to have injuries (and trouble recovering from them) is like Sarah’s propensity to be competitive, I’d be a little hesitant if I were you. You might really set yourself back, which as you know can be very depressing.”–Lisa

But I also realize that this is the opportunity of a lifetime: not only to cover 26.2 in NYC, but, more importantly, to have you guys cheering me on. It sounds corny, but I know of no other way to say it: I feel amazingly blessed. I feel supported and understood and accepted and–yes–ready for the challenge.

“Yes. I think you should because I have yet to do one and think that SOMEONE should be running long distances even if it’s not me. I would love to follow your training for it. So, really, it’s not about you, it’s all about me!”--Amy

So I’m in. But I have caveats.

1. I am going to listen to my body. If a training session hurts too much, I’m done. If I wake up hobbled in pain, no workout except stretching and maybe light yoga.

2. My biggest concern when I run is going to be my form, not my time. My Garmin is staying in the random electronics basket, where I’m pretty sure my tape Walkman is fermenting, for at least a few months, if not through race day. (Stay tuned: Friday is my first form video–and vpod!)

“You’d better polish your little black running dress.”--Katie

3. Did I mention I was going to listen to my body? I really am. When I told SBS of my decision, with all the conditions, she said, “Can you put that in writing? Because I know you have the ability to just tough it out.” None of that. There will be no toughing it out, except maybe on race day.

4. I want to cross the finish line in NYC as a stronger, healthier, more efficient, smarter runner who’s got a rock-solid body to prove it. If I’ve done that, I don’t care what the clock reads.

“I will tell you to use the next six weeks wisely. I used the Jillian Michaels’ training program for the six weeks before I started official training. I gained a ton of total body strength, and I think it has helped a lot.”–Michelle

5. My training is going to be unconventional; I learned, through the Nike Marathon adventure that you can prepare numerous ways for a marathon (if your goals are broad, like mine.) So I’m planning on running trails for time, not miles, for most of my long runs; I’m going to swim and bike pretty heavily; I’m in for Pilates at least 2x a week; I’m going to strength train, as Michelle suggests, starting tomorrow.

6. I reserve the right to cut any workout short if need be so I can 1. stretch and 2. foam roll.

O.k., enough of this boring stuff. Let’s get this party started. Come July 1, I’ll post my workouts somewhere, tbd, in case you want to vicariously train. Again, thank you so much for your comments, thoughts, yays and nays. I’ll think of them often as I travel this journey.

Enough about me: the winner of the Asics is Chrissy, who writes:
“Yes! Yes! Go for it!! You will be my inspiration! No pressure! Ha! Ha! I just did a 10k in Annapolis, MD and am debating a 1/2 marathon in September. I have been weighing it all week! This is the 1st time in 39 yrs that I have ever been excited about anything related to exercise and competition. Go for it!”

 O.k., Chrissy. I’ve committed. Time to put your new Asics to good use: you’re in for 13.1, right?

 

Getting In My Miles

A Midwest tour recap that, I promise, will not be like an unsolicited race report: boring + long.

O.k., so I just read it over again, and it’s a little on the long side, but bear with me.

Duluth: A small, but dedicated crowd. Met Sarah, a pediatrician with three kids (5, 3 and 7ish months) who is taking on Grandma’s Marathon on June 19. I was in awe: a “real” job–there’s not a ton of flexibility when swine flu hysteria is in full swing–3 kids, one under 1, and a marathon? That’s running like a mother. “I take care of my patients. I take care of kids. I make sure my husband [a serious mountain biker] can go on his rides and I keep up the house,” she explained,”I needed to do something for me.” Sounded vaguely familiar. Go get ’em, Sarah!

The good folks at the Duluth Running Company: Sarah is training with them for the marathon.

Minneapolis: 4 amazing stops. First up, The Bookcase in Wayzata, which is basically my home bookstore; I remember going there with my grandmother, and her buying me Anastasia Krupnik before I went off to summer camp.  To be able to read in front of family, relatives, friends, old and new was a better treat than peanut butter M’n’M’s, which I’ve been buying copiously at gas station stops.

Me and my assistant, Amelia, always close at hand.

At Title Nine in Edina, I ran with a vibrant group that included one of my old rowing buddies, Anne. As we ran, she reminded me of a quote the reverend said at my wedding (I remember absolutely nothing from the ceremony, other than walking down the aisle at the end). “Everybody thinks marriage should be 50/50. It never is, it never will be, and thinking so will only breed resentment,” he said, “If you go in with the mentality that it’s 90/80, you’ll be fine.” She mentioned it came to her again and again. It happened to be my 10th wedding anniversary that day, and I’m pretty sure remembering that forgotten advice will help me weather the next 10 years a little more smoothly. Thanks, Anne!

All together now: Run Like A Mother!

Bonus: a really fun video Title Nine Edina put together while I was there. I like it all, except for when it’s very clear I’m not standing up straight.

Minneapolis: great, post-reading discussion with the crowd, which included Carly and Kara and Joy, who is running Grandma’s as well. “I’ve run 5ks and 10ks and I’m 50 [I think that’s what she said…don’t quote me] and not getting any younger,” she said, “So I figured I may as well do it.” May as well, Joy: good luck!  We hit on everything from post-run headaches to the typcial Saturday morning conflict happening all over the nation: toddler soccer vs. mom’s morning run.

The crowd that showed up on Saturday morning at The Running Room, including Emily, in notice-me green, who is six months pregnant with her first child and Michelle, who is a Pilates instructor (um, my abs don’t look like that after six weeks of Pilates…should I ask for a refund?). Michelle brought samples of Wellies, a nugget of organic goodness (think rolled oats, apricots, maple syrup, egg whites) that would work well as a substitute for a too-sweet gel on a long run or an easy grab before a shower after a run.

Ready to run around Minnesota’s 10,000 lakes. Or at least one of them.

I ended the Minnesota part of my RLAM tour by running this morning with Cara, who lives three doors down from my mom. I’d heard about her–and her 18-month-old twin girls–from my mom over the years, so I was psyched to finally meet her. She had 10 on tap for today so I joined her for 5.

As we ran, she told me about how she met her main running buddy, Jill. Cara, who had her twins by C-Section, was finally cleared to run on Christmas Eve 2008. It was a cold, snowy day, but Cara didn’t care. She was going. Jill happened to be out there too. They crossed paths and laughed over the fact that they were the only two people crazy enough to be running in classic Minnesota weather on Christmas Eve. 16 or so months later, they’re still running strong.

That story, and my run with Cara, and my runs and encounters with all the RLAM’ers I just had, is yet more evidence that there’s something so special about meeting another mom who runs. The bond felt is immediate, and the friendship, if it can be forged in spite of tee-ball games and grocery store runs and excel spreadsheets and all the other things that eat up time, can often be one of the most meaningful relationships in your life.

p.s. Sorry for the lack o’ blog on Friday. Thanks, as always, for all your great ideas. Lisa takes home the spread of Scape Sunscreen. Her response:

I celebrated [National Running Day] like all those professional runners out there and did a tempo run and some speedwork. My tempo run was 37 minutes of lightly jog/walking while pushing my 4 year old up hills on his bike and then sprinting after him on the down hills, shouting at him to stop to look for cars. On the flats I just tried to keep up with him. The “speed” work consisted of 12 times around the bases at our local park where we stopped on the way home. So that would be 12 x 360s? I probably rested a little longer in between than I should have, but my son got his turns too and sometimes he only let me hit ‘doubles’ so I had to stop at second base when it was his turn.

How do I beat the heat in the summer? I try to run in the morning, as early as I can. We have a great trail that is mostly shaded that I use a lot. And I LOVE the early morning lawn sprinklers – they are lifesavers!

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