Spinning the Wheel
If you can’t figure this out, see below: the answer is embedded!
Pat Sajak soothes me these days. Yes, that Pat Sajak, the one with the uplifted face and oh-so-nutty sense of humor. The one who offers to give the Wheel one final spin and bestows vacations to exotic places like the Mexican Riveria.
Wheel of Fortune is on at 6:30 at my house, which is the perfect time to unplug from the day and plug into the tube: homework is done, dinner is over, and the kids (and I) have reached that tiredness tipping point where if I try to crank up the productivity, I’ll just waste time on Facebook and if they try to do anything together, it’ll end in snippiness and tattling.
So instead, we watch Vanna “turn” the letters—and I remember watching with my grandmother, back in the day, when the blonde goddess actually did turn them and not just tap them—and just enjoy. Sipping a beer, I sit between my two kids on our beyond filthy couch in our TV room with the mocha brown walls and relish their copious comments.
Ben can’t believe somebody can actually win $10,000—and then lose it with one stop on bankrupt. “That’s SO much money, Mom!” he worries, “And now it’s gone!”
And Amelia gets fixated on the trips, “Have you ever been to Aruba, Mom? It looks so cool! There are four pools at that hotel!”
You tell me: what’s not to love in this picture?
Amelia thinks Vanna is so glamorous, and Ben always wishes he could win the car in the bonus round. I don’t have the heart to tell them the IRS will take at least half of their winnings—and I don’t have the patience to explain the IRS to them, anyway—so I let them ooh and aah over what seems like luckiness and luxury personified.
And both of them think I’m brilliant. Even though my crossword puzzle skills end around Tuesdays, still a very simple day on the Monday (easy)-Sunday (impossible) scale, they think I am whiz at the wheel. “Walk the Line by Johnny Cash!” I’ll blurt out, clearly proud I’ve solved before any of the three contestants have. I don’t have the heart to tell them it’s much easier to do at home than on the show.
Ben will put his head on my lap, and Amelia will hold my hand. We might discuss a snippet of school-related matters during the commercials, or we might just diss on the medication ads. (Given the number of arthritis and heart medication adds, the three of us, with our collective age of 56, are clearly not the Wheel target audience.) Amelia might wax on about wanting to go to Aruba—can you believe they have four swimming pools at that hotel?—and Ben will ask me to explain how the Before + After puzzle works again.
There is no drama, no crying, no whining, no, “mom, Mom, MOM!”
Although I’d settle for the entertaining, conflict-free downtime. I’m also being selfish when we park in front of the Wheel. My head doesn’t spin when the wheel spins. When Pat Sajak is in charge, I am not wishing time away. I am not thinking about tomorrow’s workout or deadline. I am not fretting about all the friends I’ve lost touch with and owe cards and calls. I am not remembering that my sheets haven’t been changed in two weeks. I don’t worry that I my work/life balance has teetered in one direction for too long, and that my kids will suffer the consequences. And I am definitely not concerned that the bonding time with my kids that I most look forward to involves Vanna and Pat.
I am simply there, modeling unbelievable intelligence for my children, and getting kisses on the cheek for it. And, as they say, I ___ O U L ___ ___O T T R ___ D___ I T ___ O R T H___ ___O R L D.
What bonding things do you do with your kids that aren’t exactly conventional?
It’s All about [Work-Life] Balance
Sarah and Dimity kick off their now weekly podcasts (yes, we’ll now be coming to you every week instead of every other!) by talking to Michelle Jezycki, a triathlete extraordinaire. This Hyland’s Masters athlete talks about thriving on, rather than merely surviving, the emotional rollercoaster of a race. The ladies also discuss work-life balance, debating whether all things can ever really be equal. And find out what fitness element SBS has finally added into her training.
If you’re digging our podcasts, we’d be super-grateful if you’d take a minute (because we *know* you have so many to spare!) to write a review on iTunes.
[audio:http://www.podtrac.com/pts/redirect.mp3/podcasts.pagatim.fm/shows/amr_011013.mp3]**Also, the quickest way to get our podcasts is to subscribe to the show via iTunes. Clicking this link will automatically download the shows to your iTunes account. It doesn’t get any simpler than that!
Ready For It: Taking on the TLAM 26.2 Own It Plan
I’d say this is true for my mind, too.
“I don’t know how you do it—run long distance,” a friend’s husband says to me as we’re about to leave a holiday dinner at their house. “I just can’t run very long without feeling like I’m going to puke,” he says.
Our conversation is less about whether running is good for you—he’s a great guy and readily acknowledges its mental and physical benefits—and more about how some of us like shorter distances while others, like me, prefer going long. (Chris confides he’d much rather sprint, even if it does sometimes, for him, result in a queasy stomach: “I like a quick and intense workout, then I’m done.”)
It’s true that I feel most confident about my running when I’m tackling longer distances. Double-digit runs aren’t entirely without an intimidation factor, but they also don’t scare me, not as they once did before I ran my first marathon nearly two years ago. There’s something so empowering about knocking out a long run. I try (and hope) to always feel strong enough to take on a weekend 10-miler during non-training time, and during full-on training mode, there’s an unparalleled kind of satisfaction with going out and logging 14, 16, 18 miles.
I do like shorter runs, like the three-mile trail loop I often run with our black lab, Max, and a favorite five-mile route through my downtown and along Lake Michigan. But as I’ve become more and more in tune with my body the longer I’ve been running, I’ve noticed I absolutely hit my stride only after I’m several miles into a workout. (And isn’t that interesting-cool how that happens, getting to know our bodies in this intimate, informative way?)
This is why I’m so excited to be starting training for my fourth marathon, the Bayshore in my hometown of Traverse City, Michigan. It’s a race dear to me, not only because it’s flat and along the water, but because it was my very first 26.2. Being that it’s close to home, there’s plenty of family and friends able to cheer me on, particularly during those final grueling final 6.2 miles.
And after nine months of lower-key, shorter race events—I craved a break in training following three marathons, including the Nike Women’s Marathon in San Francisco and Boston, in less than one year—I’m ready to really go for it. What this means: I’m going to follow the Train Like a Mother Marathon Own It Plan. While I did BQ at the Bayshore, I am most wanting to simply best my time and snag a marathon PR. OK, yeah, qualifying again would be incredible, but it’s not my main goal—plus, the updated qualifying times mean I’d need a 3:40, not 3:45 as before (I BQ’d with 3:42:55—yep, I cut it close).
You know the saying – Plan your work, work your plan.
But who knows? I’ve got high hopes of getting a PR with the Own It Plan. It’s ambitious, but I’m mentally and physically feeling good. As Dimity and Sarah point out in TLAM, the Own It plan “is a fairly serious, intense plan that can get you a BQ or a significant PR, and, with either, some heart-swelling satisfaction.” I’m down with that.
Of course, I’ll need to be committed to the hard work that’s involved. This 18-week plan involves running four to five times a week, doing three 20-mile runs, “and generally turning into a sleek, fine-tuned running machine.” I like it. And after a summer, fall and early winter of trail running sans Garmin and a handful of family-friendly races, I am itching to see what I’ve got.
Next week I’ll start training, and I’ll be posting updates here, over at Michigan Runner Girl and also on Twitter. I’d love to connect with fellow BAMRs who are following one of the TLAM training plans. To that end, if you’re on Twitter (and if you’re not, why not join us?), please post updates on your adventures following a Train Like a Mother training plan using the hashtag #TLAM2013. If it fits, don’t forget to add #motherrunner, too. You can find me on Twitter here. (Also be sure to follow the new-ish @TheMotherRunner account, which Sarah and Dimity both contribute to.)
Who’s with me–who’s going to #TLAM2013?
Tell Me Friday: How To Lay Confidence-Building Bricks
And thar she blows: a great goal for me.
So this Ironman thing? Tough.
There isn’t a workout where somewhere in the middle of it, I go into math mode: I’m 45 minutes into a bike workout, and think to myself, “If I were in the race, I’m still swimming right now. And then I have 112 miles to bike. And then just 26.2 miles to run.”
Some days, I get super excited by that thought–bring it, Coeur d’Alene!–-and other days, not so much (bring your booty over to that couch and watch Nashville on demand!)
Be amazing: a little ambitious, but I appreciate the sentiment.
I still get nervous before most races of any distance or sport, but I’m 99% sure, barring flat bike tires, runners trots and other natural disasters, I’ll see the finish line. That said, this 140.6-mile adventure in late June? That certainty isn’t so solid. Two decades of endurance sports have given me a deep roots, but I’m planting a sapling in Coeur d’Alene and my gardening tools are rusty. (Yes, really bad metaphor there, but you know what I’m saying.)
Thing is, my Ironman could be your 10K or your marathon or your first sprint tri. We are all essentially in the same place: Your body is at point A, and you want to get to point B, which can feel ridiculously far away. Can you get to point B?
No matter what your goal is, you have to lay down bricks, one by one, day by day. Bricks of endurance. Bricks of strength. Bricks of confidence. Bricks of mental toughness. Most importantly, bricks of belief that what you’re doing isn’t crazy or impossible, but is quite the opposite: very possible and, not coincidentally, very possibly the key to staying quite sane.
Here’s how I’ve been laying some bricks lately:
**I don’t look more than a day or ahead in my workouts. My coach fills them out weekly online for me, but I try just to look at today’s–and maybe tomorrow’s. Here’s why: If I’m having a tough time with my 6-mile run on Tuesday, Dimity easily morphs into Dramity: “If I can’t even do this, how in the h-e-double-hockey-sticks can I do the much harder/longer/crazier workout I have on Saturday?” And then I spend way too much energy and time fretting about Saturday’s workout for roughly four days. Needless to say, I am not the type who studies and compares training plans months before a race; more power to you if you are.
**I find one part of every workout that I really want to nail. I don’t have to thrive during the whole workout, but I do want finish that sucker feeling an ounce a victory. My focus could be something simple, like not flying through my first mile, usually a slight downhill, like I normally do and paying the consequences. (“Oh, look, a 9:00 for my first mile; today is going to be great!” I think to myself. And then I get to mile 3, where I rack up a 9:50 and I wonder what I’ve done wrong.) It could also be something much harder, like staying strong as I run up and crest a hill. (Keep your intensity for 40 steps after you go up a hill: it’s harder than it sounds.)
**I’m trying to be more effusive about my workouts, something that doesn’t come naturally to me. I texted my coach on Saturday after what was definitely my best workout in weeks (a 50-minute bike with some strength training thrown in, followed by 10 x 1 minute at 5K pace, 1 minute recover). I’ve never texted her before; I just fill in the online log, but it’s usually at least 24 hours–and more like 72 hours–late and by then, I’ve lost some of the endorphinated enthusiasm from the workout. But Saturday, I felt great and wanted her to know right there and then.
Can you see the fireworks going off?
**I tell myself I chose to do this race. Not only that, but I get to do this. How lucky am I? (I actually yelled that during a run about two weeks ago to remind myself that I am, indeed, very lucky.) Again, an adjustment to my typical glass-half-empty perspective, but I can’t help but be more grateful when I mentally fill up my cup instead of constantly draining it.
I also threw out a question—how do you not mentally defeat yourself during training?—to a FB group of endurance athletes in Colorado, and loved some of their responses on how they lay bricks:
**From Lena; My mantra is “Yes You Can” You have to believe that. Even if your brain gets doubts, your body has it under control. Believe in your training. You can’t look at the whole race, just take it one step at a time, one mile at a time, one aid station at a time. My first full IM was in November at age 63. It took me 2:37 to finish the swim. Well of course they pulled my chip, but even when I heard the 2:20 whistle, I kept going because I knew I had trained and I could at least finish the swim. I have signed up to do the same IM next year because Yes I Can.
I would’ve preferred badass instead of the word that rhymes with witch, but beggars on Pinterest can’t be choosers.
**And from Sarah: I never think of the race distance during training (well, I *try* not to). Because they aren’t the same. Race day is RACE DAY. Training is the hard, slogging work getting prepared, mentally and physically. I think success in a race, any distance, is staying mentally with it, not thinking too far ahead and not psyching yourself out. Sometimes I am scared to go for a long run or workout – literally, I have to talk myself into it. I’m not sure what that’s about, but getting out the door and through the workout mentally is just as important as is putting in the time physically. (Note: I too get freaked out by long runs/workouts, hence the don’t think; just go motto that works pretty well for me.)
**And finally, from Meredith: The training is the harder part; the race is the icing on the cake. Adrenaline and the fun of the day make the hours go by so fast. I promise it will go by very quickly and then you’ll be sad when it’s done.
The idea of 140.6 miles going by quickly feels absolutely inane right now. But I realize anything, brick by brick, is possible: Even me crossing an Ironman finish line.
Now you tell us: How do you build your bricks? Believe in your capability? Stretch your confidence and cross finish lines you never thought you’d see?
Too Late to Avert the Physical Cliff
The fam and I enjoying a week away from reality–and running–in Mexico.
Forget the fiscal cliff; last month, I went over the physical cliff. I careened from a place of no aches, pains, or ailments to having not one, but two, injuries.
Since kicking plantar fasciitis to the curb in late fall 2011, I’d trained for and run two marathons with nary a niggle or an ache. Even at the time, it had seemed too good to be true: a Masters-age runner logging 30 to 40 (or more) miles a week without any adverse side effects. And, sure enough, I must have tempted fate with too many miles, too many tempo workouts, too many hill repeats. Sometime around Thanksgiving, my right heel started to twinge occasionally. Not when I stepped out of bed or stood after long periods of sitting, but randomly, like when I was walking into Trader Joe’s or baking sugar cookies. Not sharp, intense jolts of pain—just nudges on my heel and arch that reminded me of the months of more severe pain I felt in the spring of 2011.
It worried me enough that I did something totally uncharacteristic of this Type A runner: I took a week off from running. Even though I packed my running shoes and two cute tanks and running skirts when my family and I flew to Mexico for the week before Christmas, I didn’t go for a single run. I didn’t feel a burning desire to search out routes—or hit the resort treadmill—and I figured a week off would help my heel heal. And it did: Despite (or because of?) walking barefoot most of the day, the occasional pings and pangs diminished greatly.
While this photo reminds me of an illustration from Gulliver’s Travels, it’s actually acupuncture needles in my lower legs.
When we returned stateside, I vowed to continue to take it easy-ish, but sunny skies and the school-is-on-break lifestyle “forced” me to run two or three times Christmas week. Then, after a 90-minute run with my running buddy Molly on Sunday, December 30, I plunged off the cliff: The back of my left knee was screaming by the end of the nine miles. A few hours later I emailed Molly: “Found a way to stop worrying about plantar fasciitis: have excruciating knee pain that obliterates all other thoughts.”
Okay, maybe I was being a bit melodramatic, but the pain and resulting weakness left me seriously concerned: Molly and I were set to start training for the Vancouver Marathon the.very.next.day. Gulp. Instead of following Week 1 of the Marathon: Own It plan from Train Like a Mother: How to Get Across Any Finish Line – and Not Lose Your Family, Job, or Sanity
, I didn’t run a single step until six easy, Garmin-less miles solo on Saturday. By then I’d taken several courses of action to nip both potential game-enders in the bud: I’d had an appointment with my trusted acupuncturist; I’d started drinking nettle leaf tea (which supposedly helps with joint health); I’d been taking Aleve twice a day; I worn Vibram Five Fingers around the house and Dansko clogs around town; I’d started stretching my bum foot before stepping out of bed; and I’d been wearing a 110% Overdrive Compression + Ice Kit for at least an hour every day for my foot.
I don’t want to jinx things, but my situation seems to have stabilized, and even improved a fair bit. I’ll keep you posted, but like Obama and Congress, I think I have a partial deal worked out for the cliff.
Why I Run: Chandra LaFrentz
At the Missoula Marathon finish line, July 2012.
In January 2009, four weeks after giving birth (via c-section) to my first daughter, my family of three (plus a dog) moved from our bustling life in central California to a 12-acre farm in north-central Montana (where our closest neighbor is over a mile away).
At the Spartan Spring in Calgary, AB, July 2012.
Fast forward two years to 2011: I have just had a second c-section for my second daughter. I had also become quite isolated (and to be completely honest, a little bitter), living without neighbors and working from home with only my kids and nanny to talk to during the day. Beyond my husband and kids, the rest of my human interaction is electronic and comes in the form of social media to keep up with family/friends and phone calls/emails from clients. I found myself drowning in what I like to call “me-lessness.” I wasn’t me anymore. I was a wife. A mother. An employee. A housekeeper. A cook. A nurse. But I wasn’t “me” anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I love being all of those things and living where I live – but I also need to be ME and I had become everything BUT me.
Days before being cleared by my doctor to exercise after the second c-section, my best friend ran her first half-marathon in Dallas, TX. I was so proud of her accomplishment. Her drive to train and finish inspired me to give running a try. At first it was just to lose the weight I had gained through two pregnancies. I could barely call it running (it was more of a bouncy walk) and it felt like my uterus was going to fall out. But I kept at it. I watched my pace improve, my body tone up, and my weight drop. Running was slowly changing from a means to an end (weight loss) to an outlet and an opportunity to be “just me” for a few minutes. To take off the multitude of hats I always wear and be “just me.” To re-learn who I am and how to be proud of something that I’ve accomplished (other than successfully get spit-up out of every piece of clothing I own).
A year after starting my running journey, I now know who I am (and continually learning more about myself). Because of those few minutes (or hours) that I spend with myself each day, I can be a better wife, mother, employee, housekeeper, cook, and nurse. AND, I’ve learned how to be me at the same time. In that year, I finished my several 5Ks, my first 10K, and first half-marathon. I’ve logged more miles than I ever dreamed (I was the band geek, not the athlete).
It is now January 2013. I completed my first marathon in July of 2012 (the Missoula Marathon). I finished in 5:05:34. It was 5 minutes and 34 seconds slower than my goal, but I’m OK with that. I worked harder than I thought possible. I learned more than I thought possible. I found more of “me” in those miles than I ever new existed.
My family.
After the race, I took some time off for my body to recover. I raised funds and rode in a 50-mile bike ride for the Special Olympics–my longest ride so far. I completed the Spartan Sprint in Calgary, AB. I embraced cross-training and completed the BeachBody Insanity program. Currently I’m running again and working on base miles. I closed 2012 with 710 miles (60 miles more than my goal and 200 miles more than 2011). Training for my second marathon will begin the first week of February. I’ll be running the Calgary Marathon this year and my goal is to break the 5:00 barrier. I’ve changed my training and spent more time cross-training and strength training than I ever have. And I’m confident — I’ve done it before and I can do it again! But more than that, I’m looking forward to continuing to uncover new pieces of “me” as I run. That’s the amazing thing about running — I never seem to run out of things to discover! 2013 is going to be great and I look forward to finding new pieces of me with every step!
Why do I run? I run to be me. I run because I am a runner.
Want to read more Why I Runs? Go here.