August 2014

#125: Heading into Fall Racing Season

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Somewhat of a rarity: This podcast is just Dimity and Sarah gabbing. Their main topic of conversation is their two different approaches to the fall racing season: They are both doing the Philadelphia Marathon as part of the Saucony 26Strong (more on that program in next week’s show), but they are taking two different training routes to get to the City of Brotherly Love. Dimity talks about her varied cross-training plans—including a jump-rope circuit she schemed up—and Sarah shares a few tales about recent challenging runs. (Enthusiasm alert: SBS is buzzing off a serious runner’s high from a 19-mile doozy she ran a few hours before recording this podcast!)

Also, there’s another broken bone in Dimity’s life—but this time the injury belongs to her 11-year-old daughter, not Dim. The mother runner tells how it happened. Finally, find out what high school TV shows the gals are watching.

Reminder: The first selection for the new Another Mother Runner Reading/Running book club is On the Road to Find Out. This young adult novel focuses on a high school senior taking up running while navigating the gauntlet of college admissions process. Author Rachel Toor will be on the September 13 podcast; readers can submit questions for her or comments about the book on the Run Like a Mother: The Book Facebook page on Tuesday, September 9. Join in the discussion!

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Martini Fridays: In need of a TARDIS

After the better part of a week hemming and hawing then hemming some more, I finally convinced myself that Saturday morning would be a great time to take a run through Hyde Park, which was only a couple of blocks from my hotel in London. I had the gear with me. I had a window of time. The weather was perfect. Plus, I am a badass mother runner who should take a badass mother run.

Still, I was nervous, like I always am when I’m about to go for a run in a new place. I always assume that runners in other towns are different from me somehow. Fancier, maybe. Definitely more legit. I also hadn’t seen many runners in London and wondered if there was a reason for that. Until I saw him.

The Italian Gardens in Kensington/Hyde Park. Not my usual scenery.

The Italian Gardens in Kensington/Hyde Park. Not my usual scenery.

He wasn’t much to look at — and I mean that in the kindest way possible. He was just a running schlub like me. He wasn’t kitted out in the latest gear. He wasn’t buff. He was sweaty and gross. And he was running past the pub near my hotel, looking like a regular running Joe just getting it done.

See, sometimes I can convince myself that I’m not a real runner because I don’t look like one. A lot of me jiggles. No one would watch me run and think the word “gazelle.” I usually grab whatever gear is cleanest, rather than the gear that is the most flattering. In my small town in upstate New York, I don’t give it much thought. I don’t run into other runners that frequently when I’m out getting a sweat on. If I do, I almost always know them from non-running life.

These guys paced me for a bit. Then I stepped on the gas and smoked 'em.

These guys paced me for a bit. Then I stepped on the gas and smoked ’em.

But in a big city, where I don’t know the local runners and generally feel like a small town rube who is only pretending to be a runner, well, I can get a wee bit intimidated. I can usually talk myself down and run anyway but London seemed like too much. Then I saw schlubby running dude and I knew it would all be OK.

I ran more or less naked, which would explain the stares I got from passers-by…. I kid. I didn’t have Herr Garmin with me because I figured I could use Strava on my phone, not remembering that I wouldn’t have data access, which meant that apps like Strava wouldn’t work. So I can’t tell you exactly how long the run was. After looking at a map or two, my best guess is about 3.5 miles. Unless it was more. Or less.

I wasn’t totally without technology. I did have my phone so that I could snap some pictures. I didn’t listen to podcasts or music, though, because I wasn’t on familiar ground. Which meant that I got to hear the swans grumble at me when I got too close to them.

Grumbly swan. There are also swimmers, even though that water had to be near 50 degrees.

Grumbly swan. There are also swimmers, even though that water had to be near 50 degrees.

The run itself was kind of meh. My legs were tuckered out from so much walking and didn’t want to move as briskly as I might like. Everything else about it — from the weather to the scenery —  was, to quote the kids, totes awesome.

There were other runners out there, too — and a lot of them looked pretty serious about the whole running thing. But I passed a few who looked a lot like me, who weren’t whippet thin and spandex clad. That morning’s run is one of those mental souvenirs that I will treasure.

It was also the highlight of the trip home, frankly. While the flights were fine as long flights go, my luggage was given an extended tour of Dulles and didn’t catch up with me for a few days. The stench of my running shorts was not improved by the extra marination time.

We have nothing like this in Oneonta.

We have nothing like this in Oneonta.

This week I flung myself back into 13.FUN training. The time off seems to have done me a world of good. Monday was an easy 3 plus 8 strides that felt pretty good, even though I was on the treadmill because the weather here was iffy. Tuesday’s five miles with three at tempo wasn’t too bad — and I was able to churn out three 11-minute miles without too much wheezing. We’ll see how the weekend’s long run goes. Right now, I’m not even sure how I’ll fit it in.

All runs should end with a coffee and an almond croissant, right?

All runs should end with a coffee and an almond croissant, right?

It turns out that the work you can’t get done because you’re having a fabulous time in the U.K. doesn’t just vanish. I know! Plus, the academic year started on Monday, which means my life of summer sloth (which wound up being decidedly less slothy this summer) is over. I’ve only just managed to carve out the time to write this. I have zero idea how I’ll do the same to run 14 (!) miles.

How do you carve out time when you look at your schedule and feel like there is no time in there to carve? Does anyone have a time turner or TARDIS they could lend me for a bit? 

Keeping Running Workouts in Perspective

Just going to apologize now: Molly and I haven't taken any photos during recent runs, so I am resorting to clip art to illustrate this post.

Just going to apologize now: Molly and I haven’t taken any photos during recent runs, so I am resorting to clip art to illustrate this post.

When it comes to marathon training, I don’t look very far down the road. I don’t literally run with my  head down (well, okay, maybe when I’m burnt out), but I do metaphorically. My coach usually lays out my training schedule a week at a time, yet once I see what day the long run lands on, I don’t study the workouts like vocab list I’m cramming for the SATs. Instead, I rarely look more than a day or two ahead.

Like last week: No use fretting midweek about Saturday’s double runs (prep for next month’s Ragnar Relay!). The week’s long run fell on Wednesday (given that I work from home and it was summer vacation, my schedule has some bend and give…) so I needed to keep my focus on it. Coach wasn’t asking me to run all the workouts at the same time, so why even think about them at one time?

And even within that Wednesday workout, I didn’t dwell on the whole picture. I knew the complete distance was 17 miles, yet Coach Bri had cleverly divvied it up: 3 miles to warm up, then 1 mile of alternating 30 seconds light pick up with 1 minute back to comfortable pace until the mile was up. The main set was 4 x 2 miles at roughly marathon pace, then a 1/4-mile build to 10K feel with 3/4 ease off to warm-up pace. Finish with 8 x 100-meter strides (short pick-ups emphasizing quick feet), then half-mile easy. (Oh, and let’s not forget the lunge matrix running partner, Molly, and I had to complete before even setting out.)

In a way, this make-me-laugh comic illustrates Dim's sage refrain of, "Be where your feet are."

In a way, this make-me-laugh comic illustrates Dim’s sage refrain of, “Be where your feet are.”

The two miles at marathon pace were challenging, but attainable–and short lived. On the first one, Molly was about two steps ahead of me and to my left. Instead of fretting about not quite keeping up with her, I reminded myself I take longer to warm up. On the quarter-mile at 10K feel, Molly and I had agreed in advance we’d each run our own pace. I took off, then circled back to her for the 3/4-mile trot.

We gave thanks those reprieves lasted longer than the blink of an eye, so we were able to physically and mentally regroup. (Not to get all woo-woo West Coast, but as we ran along a road overlooking the Willamette River, I actually uttered out loud to Molly, “This break is giving me a chance to gather my chi for the next 2-mile segment.” Oh, geez, it sure reads a lot flakier than I think it sounded at the time!)

By the third set of repeats, we needed more than chi to propel us forward: We each took a GU sooner rather than later, and I turned on a Spotify playlist to blare boombox-style from the pocket on my Ultimate Direction hydration belt. Macklemore and Robyn can always get me going, so I was able to nail the paces and effort for the rest of the workout; Molly’s marathon goal isn’t as aggressive as mine, so she dialed back her speed a bit.

When Molly and I re-convened on a pathway around a well-shaded park, we high-fived each other, proud of our efforts–and in disbelief we’d covered nearly 17 miles. Only when we uttered the number did my legs get a bit wobbly; the 3/4-mile back to our houses seemed the longest stretch of the run.

If we'd thought about the 17 miles the whole way, they'd seem like they stretched to the vanishing point on the horizon.

If we’d thought about the 17 miles the whole way, they’d seem like they stretched to the vanishing point on the horizon.

As a result of this keeping-my-head-down outlook, I don’t always tally my weekly mileage. I didn’t do the math until Jack, the kids, and I were enjoying a rare day at the Oregon coast, and I was semi-dozing on the soft sand beach. With Daphne continually asking me to check out the hole she was digging–“Mom, it’s got water at the bottom!”–and John lamenting about not bringing a kite, I added up my six runs. I checked my math three times, but even with the kids’ distractions, I kept coming up with the same number: 40 miles. Somehow, without ever lifting my head, I’d run 40 miles in one week.

I’d love to hear from you: What do you do to keep your training plan in perspective? 

Mother Runner Race Day

Numbered and ready to run!

Numbered and ready to run!

This sweet description of the morning of a race landed in our inbox recently, and we wanted to share. Sara Evanchick, 35, is a stay-at-home mom to a 3.5-year-old munchkin  in Upstate New York and is, in her words, “just starting to dip my toes in the world of being a health and fitness coach.” Despite the hectic race morning that we all know too well, Sara notched a 5K PR. Guessing part of her morning-long warm-up contributed to the success.

Wake up 2 hours early, so you can get dressed before anyone else is awake.

Put your running shoes on, even though it’s early. Because if you don’t, you could very well forget and slap on your flip flops, with all the chaos of trying to get the door.
Hear the precious pitter patter of munchkin feet while you’re pouring your coffee.
Get munchkin settled on the couch with juice and a little Disney Jr. (Being honest here.)
Make breakfast for munchkin and scarf down something that qualifies as good fuel.
Reheat coffee.
Wake sleeping husband.
Choose appropriate clothing and footwear for munchkin.
Pack a bag for husband with extra munchkin clothes, water, snacks, sunscreen.
Launch second attempt to wake sleeping husband.
Get munchkin dressed.
Double check race bag for armband, sunglasses, water bottle, etc.
Send munchkin in to jump on sleeping husband.
Stretch out while simultaneously playing with hot wheels.
Push half-awake husband into the shower.
Make sure everything is shut off, windows are closed, etc.
Shuffle everyone out the door.
Husband. Awake. But guessing this wasn't taken on race morning.

Husband. Awake. But guessing this wasn’t taken on race morning.

Get to the race, make sure to wave to munchkin as you cross the starting line.
Run your heart out.
Make sure to smile and wave to munchkin as you near the finish line.
Kick it to the finish.

Cross the finish line and hear, “Good job, Mommy! Can I have your banana?”

Like mother, like son: getting it done.

Like mother, like son: getting it done.

Watch and cheer for munchkin in the kids’ race. Try not to burst with pride.
Go home.
Get munchkin lunch.
Get munchkin down for nap.Finally take off running shoes.
Finally shower.
Finally sit down.

Realize that, in a blink of an eye, munchkin will grow up and be too busy to come to your races.
Cry a few thankful tears, for the chaos of mother runner race day.
Can you relate? What’s your favorite–or least favorite—part of racing as a mother runner?

#124: Promoting Healthy Eating and Activity in Kids

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Sarah and Dimity engage in a conversation with Nancy Sherwood, Ph.D., who specializes in helping parents support activity and promoting healthy eating in kids, as well as fostering healthy body image in children. This mother runner of two reminds us to be patient with our kids: “It’s a waiting game until kids take up healthier strategies.” Nancy answers a bevy of questions culled from Facebook, including how to get kids to eat fewer carbs and more protein and how to teach them balance. The gals all debate how to lead kids to activity without pushing too hard.

Speaking of pushing hard: Dimity opens the podcast with tales from her most recent epic adventure—hoofing it up to 14,115’ in the Pikes Peak Ascent. Sarah gets short of breath just talking about it!

*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. Many thanks.

**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!

The Most Important Mile of My Life: Mandy Mitroff

Mandy and her daughters.

Mandy and her daughters.

I started running 15 years ago, when a co-worker was training for a marathon with Team-In-Training. As I listened to her tales of lost toenails and achy calves, the all-too-familiar “well, if she can do it” sentiment spoke to my brain. And so I started running and haven’t stopped since.

It started with 5Ks and then 10Ks. It quickly moved up to half-marathons. And then to full marathons.

I have since run 13 marathons in places like Pocatello, Idaho with its 5-pound bag of potatoes goodie bag. And the Black Hills of South Dakota, where I was among 99 other ladies slowly making our way down a winding highway. And even the beautiful Windy City with its party atmosphere and popular landmarks.

But my most important mile was one I watched.

This past Independence Day holiday, my entire family took part in the Clawson, Mich. Freedom Run activities. A 5K for myself and my husband, and a one-mile fun run for my daughters, ages 10 and 7. We trained for the races as a family, running one- and two-mile courses around our neighborhood. Talk of winning the race was common.

Race evening was humid, but after race numbers were pinned on and water sipped, both girls took their place right up front, toes on the start line, poised to go. And the gun went off.

They raced on a wood-chipped path around the exterior of the city park and as my husband and I headed to the finish line, I kept checking over my shoulder to see if I could find them. The sun peeking through the tree-lined course caught my 10-year-old’s moving silhouette and my heart filled with pride.

My most important mile was watching my 10-year-old daughter run hers, to be the first girl to cross the finish line, without ever a thought that she couldn’t.

What was (or will be) the most important mile of your life? We want to know.

This is an ongoing feature on the website. Best way to submit is to email us your story with a picture: runmother {at} gmail {dot} com with “Most Important Mile” in the subject line. Please try to keep your mile stories under 300 words. Thank you!

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