What Would Another Mother Runner Do?
Sarah and Daphne when there were smiles along the mile.
In this recurring feature, we’ve met Christy, who faced the dilemma of running midday in her work bra–or none at all; we’ve followed Kelin after she slipped on a banana peel at Mile 20 of a marathon (true story!); and we’ve debated with Lisa whether or not to drop out of a race. Today’s it’s time to turn the camera around and focus it on…me.
A few months ago, Daphne, my seven-year-old daughter, was super-keen on going running with me. She and her twin brother went running with me a few times last summer, but it had been a few months. She’d played soccer all fall and Daphne is made of muscle, so I knew she was good for at least a mile.
It was spitting rain and about 50 degrees: not ideal running weather. But Daphne is a native Oregonian, not turned off by a little precipitation. To give the run have a bit of a purpose, I suggested we run over to Piper’s house, where big-sis Phoebe was sleeping over. We had fun on the way over, dodging puddles and cawing at crows.
Nature girl Daphne on a sunny walk last spring.
But after finding no one home at Piper’s house [they had gone out for breakfast], the wind was taken out of Daphne’s 7-year-old sails. She wanted to walk home, which I refused to do: The rain was falling harder, and the wind had picked up. I wanted to get home ASAP. With no phone to call for a ride, our best option, as I saw it, was to run home. This prompted much whining, foot dragging, and even tears from Daphne. But home we had to go.
What would you do?
Dimity answers: Tough situation, SBS. I know what I would’ve like to have done—been sympathetic but firm at the same time—but I probably would’ve resorted to bribing her. Before I did that, though, I probably would’ve tried to make a game out of it: run this block, walk the next one. Or do math problems (my kids are nerdy that way). Or play games, like “D my name is Daphne and I live in Delaware, where I sell dolphins and live with my husband, Dave.” When those tricks either wore off or didn’t work, I’d probably resort to bribing, offering hot chocolate with marshmellows if she could make it to the end without whining anymore.
What Sarah did: At first I cajoled and encouraged Daphne to run, not walk, but the wetter and colder I got, the more I morphed into a drill sergeant. Even when Daphne started to cry, I kept urging her to run. (Some might even call it “shouting” or “yelling” instead of “urging.”) We had covered the 14 blocks many times, but the distance hadn’t seemed so interminable since our stroller days with Daphne and her twin brother, John, wailing at the top of their lungs. Rationally, I knew I was being a horrible parent, but I had switched to irrational mode. I was a woman on a mission: Must.Get.Home.
What happened: Daphne was miserable the entire way (about a half-mile), and I was fuming, but we got home. I deposited Daphne inside, and ran four miles solo to blow off steam. I later apologized to my dear daughter, but it’s taken several months for Daphne to ask to run with me again.
What would you, another mother runner, do?
And if you’ve got a running-related moment you’d like some clarity on, via WWAMRD, feel free to email us at runmother [at] gmail [dot] com. Thanks!
Training Tips from Two in the Thick of It
Sarah and Molly giddy post-run in their pursuit of the Vancouver Marathon.
Sarah and Dimity trade training tips as they both stare down starting lines: Sarah is set to run the Vancouver Marathon in a mere week, while Dimity now has less than two months to go until Ironman Couer d’Alene. They share secrets on how to keep workouts—and yourself—feeling fresh. Some of the advice is even packaged in easy-to-remember snippets, such as, “Need a day, take a day,” and “If you’re shoes aren’t working for you, ditch ’em and switch ’em.” Thankfully, the conversation does not erupt into the word Sarah learns how to pronounce.
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.
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Week 8, AMR Virtual 5K: Keeping Each Other Accountable & the Power of the Running Community
Mandi and Aimee, savoring some post-workout bliss together.
This week we check in with Aimee and Mandi, BRFs training alongside each other. The pair has realized just how much they need each other, as well as the amazing strength of the running community following the Boston Marathon explosions.
1.) In a nutshell, how would you describe your training at this point?
A: Slow. Full of excuses. Powerful and enlightening. All wrapped into one. When I was heavy I chose to work out alone. Now I cannot stand to be alone running. I need the motivation and competition of a workout partner.
M: Hard to find time. Busy semester at work. Looking forward to the end of the semester when I can focus on me again.
2.) The past couple of weeks have been tough for the running community. How are you both feeling following the events in Boston, and how has it affected your training.
A: Boston made me see how much of a family the running community is. Tuesday also marked the anniversary of the Virginia Tech shootings. The sadness I felt on Tuesday made me want to get out in the sunshine to reenergize and connect with Mandi and the great big moving world.
M: I’m feeling inspired…by the running community, by my friends and family. Yesterday, Aimee and I had one of the best and hardest workouts we’ve had in quite a while.
Aimee and friends after her recent Color Me Rad 5K.
3.) Last update, you both expressed some frustration over training runs getting derailed by life. Has this been an issue lately, or have you found ways to feel like you’re on track?
A: With the calendar counting down to my two big spring runs (this past Saturday’s Color me Rad 5K and the Foam Fest 5K/BAMR5K in less than three weeks) I’ve had to stay focused on training and eating better. We are finally over our colds and bad schedules and I’ve made more time to focus on myself.
M: I’m starting to see the light at the end of the semester. Once I get through this, I can start refocusing on myself. Unfortunately, I ended up not participating in the Color Me Rad 5K this past weekend. But, I’m stoked about the 5K Foam Fest in about two weeks. It’s just Aimee and I running, so I know our competitive spirits will be in full force!
4.) What have you learned from your training so far?
A: That I have to have a support system to keep me focused and motivated. I cannot do this alone.
M: I completely agree with Aimee. I need a support system to keep me focused, motivated, and positive. I’ve also learned that my new running shoes have made the world of difference in how I run and how I have less aches and pains.
TMI Tuesday: Peeing on a Run, Pt. II
What to do when you can’t take this with you
Earlier this month, Sarah gave some tips for peeing on a run when there’s no porcelain tank in sight. Mother runners responded with additional alternative solutions to the toilet that were both creative and laughter-inducing, and we just had to [over]share them.
When you’re body won’t let you go on anything but a tangible toilet, mother runners rely on the kindness of strangers. Donna recalls paying to poop with a pedi:
“On a 10-mile run on a very secluded trail, I felt the urge to go #2. I ducked into the trees and found a spot, but then couldn’t deliver. So I went on running, uncomfortable and praying that I wouldn’t poop my pants. I modified my route and came to a little strip mall that had an open nail salon. I ran in and asked for a bathroom. Those poor women were speechless and pointed to the back. I went back for a pedicure a week later with three of my friends–it was the least I could do!”
Roberta tells her friend’s motto of ‘why not knock?’ Odds are in your favor that instead of a serial killer, it’ll be a mother runner all too familiar with your needs.
“One of my running friends has a micro bladder and struggles mightily to hold it all in. While running through our neighborhood around 8 p.m., she knew she wouldn’t be able to complete the run without taking care of business. So she knocked on a stranger’s door. The door was answered by an elderly lady who understood her plight completely, and she was ushered to the bathroom.
Sometimes it’s not just the internal force of nature, but the external force that messes with a runner’s pee routine. Nancy B. shares:
“In Connecticut, there’s usually a random stone wall or two that I can jump behind. On one of my normal routes, I would go in a row of large white pines blocking the view from both the road and the owner’s house. I usually went between the two thickest, tallest ones…until Hurricane Sandy toppled the one that I used. Gotta find a new pee spot now.”
Katie G.’s solution is to avoid any shame by hiding her face because as every child knows, “If I can’t see them, they can’t see me,” right?
Evade the shame: If I can’t see you, you can’t see me
“In the middle of a 50-mile race in the middle of nowhere I had to go so bad I just jumped off the side of the forest service road and dropped my shorts. I had to go so bad I didn’t even bother to jump behind a tree, I still had so far to go I didn’t want to have a mess in my pants, plus I was by myself as most of the racers had really spread out by then. Well, right in the middle of my explosive diarrhea, one of the other racers support vehicles drove by! I just put my head between my knees while squatting and hoped they wouldn’t recognize me later.”
Jenny Breen tells of her experience of marathon pooping.
“I ran my first marathon in Chile in December 2012. It was a great experience, and I was well trained, but this marathon had not one single bathroom along the entire course! It was small, and in the country, so most people didn’t even know what the heck was going on. That said, around Mile 14 I felt the urge to go #2….I held it as long as possible, but finally, upon viewing a little gathering of trees in this mostly farm field landscape, I darted off the road to go. I managed to go-though not my best poop for sure, and then to wipe? Rocks, twigs and whatever else. Needless to say, it got me through the rest of the race. I ran a sub 4-hour marathon, but am sure this little pitstop added at least 5 minutes to my time. Oh well, what can you do. At least I didn’t poop my pants.”
Who needs toilet paper when you have grass, leaves, twigs, dirt…your options are endless outside
Kelly C. recounts having to restyle her running wardrobe mid-run when a pitstop turned disastrous.
“Usually we hit up a convenience store or gas station along our route. Recently desperation quickly hit me and I had to go number 2. I quickly ran into a ditch next to the road while my running buddy stood guard. As if this wasn’t embarrassing enough, a car stopped and a man leaned out worried I was hurt. Nice of him, horrifying for me. I waved him on from my squatted position. Lastly, to make this even worse, I made a mess of my self and dirtied my gloves, jacket, and pants. As fate would have it, there was a gas station a little ways down which I visited and turned all my clothes inside out for the rest of the run.”
If you feel anatomically inept at peeing without making a mess, turns out there are products, yes, products, to streamline your peeing-on-the-go experience.
Debbie wears pee pads: “I never suffer the urge to pee since it just dribbles out the entire time while I run (older runner now). I wear ‘pee pads’ on my run, but have had to carefully time when I have my last drink of water before starting a run, to be sure I’ve eliminated everything as much as possible before it. My other tactic: At an aid station, grab several cups of water, and pour them over you to ‘cool you off,’–and to hide any peeing you have to do at the same time.”
Paige depends on, “prayer, wet wipes, and an empty Gatorade bottle.”
Urinelle, a paper cone not to be re-purposed for shaved ice.
Melanie clued us in to Urinelle, which are disposable. “It makes peeing while standing easier by providing you with a funnel to direct the flow away from the body (and shoes!). Perfect for the gross port-a-potties, too.”
We try to take a Georgia O’Keeffe perspective on the Go Girl: We see a ruby-red flower.
Marie told us about another “FUD” (an acronym we did not make up! Stands for, “female urination device”). “I have a Go-Girl. I have one and use it mostly when traveling in the car (into a styrofoam cup). But I constantly have to pee. I pee before my run, during my run (usually behind a bush since I run trails), then immediately after. And just last weekend while running six miles, I had to poo so I did that at the state park behind a bush, too. Just remember to dig a hole first and bury it. My husband, who was running with me, says he loves me even more now.” [We do, too, Marie!] If you have even more tales, we’re all ears. Tell us! (Maybe we need to write, Answering the Call of Nature Like a Mother.)
Ironmother Training: In the Thick of It
Fast forward 9 weeks from now, and it’ll be 3:33 p.m. on June 23 in Coeur D’Alene, Idaho. I will have been in motion for 8 hours and 33 minutes, and I will, fingers crossed, be on the run. I will have swum 2.4 miles and ridden my sweet steed Lyle for 112 miles.
But then the run. 26.2 miles. Right now, that feels as impossible as running from Denver to Idaho does.
How’s training going might be the appropriate question here. I would respond that question, but that would require energy, and I don’t have an extra ounce to spare.
O.k, since my kids are parked in front of America’s Funniest Home Videos and I’m parked on my bed, I’ll expand a bit.
I am wiped. I am sore. I am actually looking forward to my appointment on Tuesday to get my lip and brows waxed—YOUCH!—because I get to lie down for 15 minutes and have somebody “take care” of me. I am shorter on patience than I normally am, but I’m not as strict of a mom as I typically am either. (See above: no energy to spare.)
But before I get too whiny, here’s what’s going well:
—I am 85% healthy. My neck decided that it didn’t want to turn to the left or right after our trip two weeks ago to the east coast, so that’s a bit of an issue especially when I swim, but I have faith it’ll iron out. My chip-fractured foot barely whimpers anymore, so that’s a win. And the rest of me, while ouch-to-the-touch, can be calmed down nearly nightly with some Trigger Point love. (Nearly nightly—or at least 2 times a week: again, the energy thing.)
—My training is working, which is always a nice thing to rediscover. Yesterday, I had a 90-mile bike followed by a 30-minute run. (And yes, I realize that sounds ridiculous, but Ironmother training is like shopping at Costco: inflated training/prices don’t faze you as much. $14 for sliced mango? Steal. 90 miles on the bike? NBD.)
Anyway, I rode most of the Harvest Moon course twice, and averaged .6 mph faster over 90 (solo) training miles than I did last fall over 56 racing miles. The wind plays a big part of speed on those open prairies, and it was mostly in favor yesterday, but I’ll take the victory. Around mile 87, I screamed, “Way to get this the f*(& done, Dimity!” I usually only refer to myself in third person when I make a mistake—a habit from my high school tennis days—so to have that just fall from my lips felt pretty badass. I’m glad I flew on the bike, because the run was…well, let’s just say I was not flying.
—My sleep is deep and plentiful. My bedtime, already slightly early, is now eking towards ridiculously early. I looked at the clock last Thursday night (a long week, it should be noted, even if I weren’t ironmothering). The blaring red numbers read 7:15. “That’s not so early, is it?” I thought to myself. I didn’t dive under the covers then, but these days, I need to be asleep—not crawling in bed—by 8:45 or 9. Because most days, I’m up in the early 5’s for at least a 90-minute workout, and I’m not slowing down again until 8:45.
—I’ve figured out my favorite point of any workout: the 66.6% done one. (And yes, I can calculate that specific point pretty well now…you should’ve seen how many times I mentally sliced and diced 90 as the denominator yesterday.) There’s something so sweet about being two-thirds through. You’ve mostly conquered, and now you just have to finish ‘er up. Doesn’t matter if it’s a short swim or a long run: I savor it every single time.
—I can honestly picture myself at the finish line. I had a fake-it-’till-you-make-it kind of ‘tude going on for most of my training, but now that I am in the thick—double thickness, chocolate milkshake thick—of training, I can actually picture myself crossing the line. I can see my husband with a ridiculous grin on his face. I can feel the medal around my neck and the tears on my cheeks and the elation and relief in my heart.
I know I can do this.
So there’s that. Then there are these minor details:
—I am so sick of myself (and my go-to music: the Fun. station on Pandora). All the training buddies I thought I was going to gain through this experience—joining a master’s swimming team; hanging as I ran with my neighborhood buds; watching movies with other Ironwomen as we pedaled for hours—have not materialized. No blame to be had; just life and different schedules and injuries.
Maybe I’m just not deep enough, but somewhere in a 16-hour training week, I just get bored of the thoughts that repeat in my head. I wish I were solving the world’s problems, but mostly I just think of things I have to do—pay for the yearbooks, schedule the vet appointment, answer Sarah’s email—and then promptly forget about them until the next workout, when the whole list comes flooding back.
—And I am also sick of eating. (And yes, I realize that’s a good problem to have.) These days, my daily training torches nearly 1,500 calories, and the long sessions hit the 3,000 mark. Replacing that—plus my normal 2,500 or so I need just to type and breathe—means I have to be shoveling something substantial and nutritious in my mouth every few hours. I don’t want any more almonds or carrots. Sick of quinoa and roasted veggies. If I never see another baby carrot weighed down with hummus, I’ll be just fine.
Plus, ever since training kicked up a notch, low-grade nausea—not barfy, but not hungry—kicked in too. The only thing that really sounds good is milkshakes, but I’m limiting those to once a week, max, for obviously reasons. (The chocolate Five Dollar Shakes from LarkBurger are my fave, btw. Yes, they’re pricey, but this whole expedition is draining my bank account, so what’s an extra weekly $5 shake?)
—My guilt is at a motherlode high right now. I know this will be my only Ironmother race—I say that with complete certainty—but my kids live in the present, and the fact that I’ve wanted to do this for nearly 30 years doesn’t register with them. There’s no I-let-them-down episode that sticks out, but eight months of concentrated training for a day-long race has consumed me both mentally and physically, and lately, I feel more selfish than I am comfortable being. Needless to say, I am taking the summer (mostly) off after this.
I wish I had some neat way to wrap this up–something about only 63 days until this party starts—but now it’s nearly 8 (I took a break from writing for dinner and baths) and I’m starting to get nervous about my workout tomorrow. 9 miles, my longest run since I fractured my foot, with a 5:15 a.m. start so I can be back for lunch-making duty.
What can I say? I need to start getting ready for bed.
Do my Ironmother experiences resonate with your training? And do you have any easy recipes that make loads of healthy food? (I especially like using the slow cooker…a little work at the beginning of the day for a great reward at the end.)
The Boston Marathon Tragedy through the Eyes of Two Mother Runners
We think all the runners in the 2013 Boston Marathon are superheroes, but these two Wonder Women are Katherine (left) and Becky.
Dimity and Sarah each talk to a mother runner who ran the 2013 Boston Marathon to hear the story in their own words. Melissa Fryback of Portland dug deep and set a PR (3:43:46) but had barely 20 minutes to celebrate before the blasts, while Katherine Sullivan and her friend Becky Stouder finished just ahead of the terrifying explosions. We cried while talking with these strong women, and we suspect more tears will be had while listening to them. Let them mix with your sweat on your next life-affirming run.
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/amr_041813.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!