#150: Everything You Need to Know to Tri
You, too, can look as happy, strong, and capable as Dimity did during a triathlon.
Thinking about trying a triathlon this spring or summer? Dimity and Sarah welcome triathlon coach Barrie Hufford to answer questions ranging from gear to training. As the mother of two young boys, Barrie recognizes most moms can’t dedicate four hours/day to the sport, and her realistic attitude shines through in her answers, such as telling gals not to do too much (e.g. no need to do a 40-mile bike ride now for a sprint triathlon in June). She walks mother runners through setting up gear in the transition area, offering pointers on getting in and out of a wetsuit (including whether you even need one) and the best shorts to wear in the race. Dim and Barrie share a crucial analogy mother runners can relate to: panty liners are to tri shorts as maxi pads are to bike shorts. When it comes to talk of training, Barrie tell it like it is–“We all avoid what we suck at”—but then offers encouragement on how to see bigger gains.
Along the way, find out what freaks Dimity out on the swim portion of a triathlon, and how Jonathan Livingston Seagull and War and Peace enter into the conversation.
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Martini Fridays: All About Thighs
I’ve been thinking about my thighs a lot lately.
Most of these thoughts have sprung from my pants, which sounds far naughtier than it is. See – I need new pants, ones that I can wear to my quasi-professional office without looking like a farmer fresh in from her field. Currently, I have one pair that works. One. And one isn’t enough when one is prone to spilling.
My garment of choice right now. I do have a torso, too, unlike this model.
The pants problem will evaporate once it’s safe to expose flesh to the outside air again and I can go back to my old reliable skirts and dresses, whose very nature makes the girth of my thighs irrelevant. That’s assuming spring comes. I’m having some doubts.
Right now, though, there are no tights thick enough to protect my merely human gams from -30 windchills. Jeans are required. Also helpful is interval training because those little bursts of speed from back door to car door make a big difference when it comes to reducing discomfort.
But barring some kind of miraculous thaw in the next week, I need new pants to get me through the next four thousand weeks of winter. The problem is: I can’t find new jeans that will slip over my big ol’ thighs. While I know it’s a not uncommon problem among those of who are more genetically inclined to have solid body types no matter how many miles we run – I credit my peasant foremothers who must have pulled their plows personally – my lack of off-the-rack pants is starting to tick me off.
It turns out, I’m not alone. Jen A. Miller in Zelle wrote a whole column about her relationship with jeans. The short version of her essay is that it’s the pants’ problem, not her body’s, and that every runner needs a tailor. Which is a great take-away, this whole not blaming your body thing. I’m all over that. Your body is great. My body is great. All of our bodies are great.
None of this positivity helps me find jeans, though. I live in a wee town where the closest Nordstrom is a good 90 minutes away. I don’t have the time or energy to drive there, then spend a hour dealing with trying stuff on, then drive back to pick it all up. The tailor in my town is so backed up that she might be able to get to my pants by, maybe, fall. Of 2016.
I think I’d need to know my seamstress pretty well for this move. And vice-versa.
I could, of course, learn how to tailor my own durn pants (and a pretty good primer on pants patterns is here) but, seriously? When, exactly, would I do that? If you could draw up a schedule where I have the time for that and still manage to fit in training and eating and sleeping (not to mention all of the kid/husband/dog stuff), I will kiss you right on the mouth.
Look. I know we’re all busy – which is why something as straightforward as pants shouldn’t be such a hassle. And because it is such a hassle, I’m feel like my whole pant situation is proof that there is something wrong with me and my thighs.
Which is too bad, because my thighs are pretty cool. Yeah, there’s some cellulite and a few thread-y veins. Cosmetically, they look more like a “before” rather than an “after.” But these are the thighs that have carried me through a metric ton of running. They are strong and hard. They are thighs of consequence.
Unless you have to try jeans on — and then they are burdens as well as proof that I am not living up to the standard that has been set for women. And this says nothing about how awful my post-baby flap of loose belly skin makes me feel in a changing room. I’ve though about putting a zipper on it and using it as a purse.
Running makes me feel like my body is bangin’. Clothing it makes me feel the exact opposite. I don’t know what to do with these feelings, really, and suspect I’m not alone. So I’m talking about them. And in the comments, I hope that you will, too.
As for the running, well, I’ve had a lot of time during my long, slow miles to think about body image. I’ve also discovered that all of the long, slow miles are leading to some slightly faster times with a lower heart rate. Upside.
My favorite track is on the other side of this snowbank. At least the sky is lovely.
The downside is that I can run outside once per week, give or take, when the weather is feeling co-operative. Last Sunday’s run was in 35 degrees! It felt like I was living the easy life in the tropics. All I needed was a fruity drink and a grass skirt, which I know would fit over my thighs.
How is your relationship between your running and pants? And any jean recommendations for Ms. Martini?
Tales From Another Mother Runner Thursday: Sarah Bowen Shea
Welcome to our next round of Tales From Another Mother Runner Thursday, where we preview one of the authors in our forthcoming book. While our names are on the cover, the book is a truly celebration of this amazing, badass community: not only does it contain 22 essays from a range of talented writers and mother runners, it has miles of insight, advice, stories, and humor from hundreds of you.
As the publishing date nears (less than one week!), we’re casting the spotlight on SBS.
Important Schedule Note: We’ve flushed out much of the information for our events for the first half of 2015. Check it all out here–and hope to see you Portland locals at Powells on March 2!
My running history: I wasn’t athletic at all as a child, but I took up rowing at Colgate University in central New York State. When I started running for cross-training, I discovered I enjoyed being outside and testing my limits. Braving frigid snowstorms during my freshman year gave me my first glimpse of my inner badass.
Living in San Francisco after graduation, I wanted to be outdoors 24/7, mountain biking, hiking, and trail running. Yet I rarely raced. I didn’t start doing running races until I resumed rowing: Once ignited, my competitive fire burned brightly. I wasn’t winning any hardware; I was racing to prove my mettle to myself. San Francisco Marathon, a bunch of Hood to Coast relays, New York City Marathon, and more. Now I live in Portland, Oregon, a running-centric city where it’s possible to run outdoors year ’round. I completed my 12th marathon last November, and look forward #13: Boston 2016.
My writing history: My father often says our family are “people of the word,” so I wanted to be a writer as long as I can remember. In junior high, I worshipped Bruce Springsteen, and I had an epiphany: If I wrote for magazines, I could interview The Boss. Alas, that scheme didn’t pan out, but I interviewed scores of sports figures and experts in my two decades of writing about health, fitness, and gear for a variety of publications, including SELF, O! The Oprah Magazine, Real Simple, and Runner’s World. My proudest accomplishment was breaking the news of Kara Goucher’s pregnancy on the front page of the Sports section of The New York Times on Mother’s Day 2010, which was a few months after Run Like a Mother debuted. I’ve enjoyed the AMR partnership with Dimity since then.
My essay, “Coming of Age,” delves into all the effects of aging I’d been feeling, from early menopause to creaky knees to slower splits. I worry I often come across as, well, the female version of cocksure, so I wanted to reveal the doubts and concerns clanking in my head. For about 18 months there, I was convinced slower race times was an unavoidable fate.
You coin a new phrase in your essay: menopot. Can you explain what that is? While I wish I could take credit for coming up with the clever term, “menopot,” I can’t. It’s a term middle-aged gals toss around to describe the pouchy belly that seems to arrive as periods depart. My good running friend Ellison, who is in her 50s, introduced me to that portmanteau.
Recent memorable run: My best running friend, Molly, was out of town, but her 18-year-old daughter, Lane, was home from college, so I set out with the younger generation. It was the day after Valentine’s Day, and Lane is enjoying an exciting freshman year. Gabbing with her for 10 miles was better than watching a juicy chick-flick. Additionally, Lane respects me as a runner and a level-headed mom, so I felt appreciated on several levels.
Recent horrible run: I joined Molly for 14 of her 18 miles, and my arse was dragging the entire way! I had no energy, and each slight rise felt like massive climb. Poor Molly: She had to run four more miles after dropping me off, yet she had to cajole and encourage me to keep moving forward for our last six miles together. I felt like a sack of rocks she had to lug along!
Next up on my running calendar: For no reason other than just cuz, I’m taking a hiatus from racing. Molly, however, is keeping me spry: She’s training for a mid-April marathon, and I’m sticking by her side for the majority of her training runs.
#149: Bethany Takes on Her First Marathon
Sarah and Dimity are joined by Bethany Meyer, a mother runner of four boys who’s stepping up to her first marathon this spring. You might have heard of it: It’s in Boston…. Bethany is chronicling her training triumphs and tribulations for AMR as part of Team Stonyfield. Like many AMR podcast guests of late, Bethany was a reluctant runner when she first started—as a way to process the pain of her father’s ordeal with prostate cancer—but 11 years later, she’s fully embracing this “once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.” You’re sure to laugh when she talks about how her testosterone-saturated house smells and how it’s littered everywhere with Dorito crumbs. Learn what screw shoes are from Bethany, and hear Dimity talk about her latest innovative cross-training workout.
At the midway point in the show, you’ll hear a mother runner talk about the AMR Run + Refresh Retreat. Here’s where you can find more details about this April 16-19 not-to-be-missed escape! And here’s a link to the 5K Challenge Sarah talks up at the start of the show.
*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
Bethany Takes on Boston: It’s Complicated
Bethany Meyer is gaining ground on the starting line of the Boston Marathon, even if life is more complicated than the training. Bethany is running as part of the team sponsored by Stonyfield Organic Yogurt: to check out the other badass runners on their team and see what’s going on with them, check in here.
It was my favorite part of the Super Bowl. The story unfolded, the music swelled, and my eyes brimmed with tears by the end. It made me want to “Roar” even more than Katy Perry.
The Always #LikeAGirl commercial.
Because being a girl can be complicated.
Dimity posted something on Facebook last week that got me thinking about how being a girl can be complicated.
“Ok, awkward moment this morning for me (Dimity) at an Orange Theory Fitness class. I’m riding the bike fairly close to a man, who I greeted with “Hi” as I walked in. He reaches out, touches my leg, and says, “Nice quads!” Then he proceeds to tell me he’s a sports massage therapist, and tells me he has good rates and can come to my house.
I wasn’t quite sure what to do, so just said something like, “Cool.” and put my head down and concentrated on pedaling. But I kind of never want to see him again.
What would you have done? Said?”
Now, I have seen Dimity’s legs both in picture and in person and, from hip to toe, they are rocking. Lean and defined, her legs don’t end until a week from Friday. All 5’5” of me–mostly torso–covets them. So I can understand wanting to reach out and squeeze her quads.
To be fair, a sports massage therapist puts one’s hands on people for a living. Connecting with people through touch comes as naturally to a massage therapist as putting on a red nose and wig comes to a clown. It makes sense that a sports massage therapist would reach out and touch the leg of an obvious athlete.
Except.
When that sports massage therapist is a man and that athlete is a woman? Complicated.
I know how complicated being a girl can be. I am one.
Three years ago, I was restless. Antsy. I hadn’t “worked outside the home” for a solid decade. So all-encompassing is the responsibility of raising children that we sometimes forget our very essence. That happened to me. I forgot that I am a mighty little creature with a fierce spirit and a story to tell. My identity was almost solely defined as the mom with the four boys. I was so immersed in my children’s well-being that one morning I looked in the mirror and wondered how many hours–days?–that crusty old peanut butter had been stuck to my neck.
After I had scrubbed off the peanut butter and gotten all four of my kids into school full-time, I wondered, “What now?” Driven. Remember, I am the girl who does handstands between intervals. Foolish. There would be no standing rest. A few girlfriends encouraged me to write. “Write? Write about what?” I asked. I am not an expert on anything. Sure, I’m married, but he and I bicker all the time. Moody. Him, not me. I have a bunch of kids, but that doesn’t make me a good parent. Overwhelmed. Add four kids to our marital bickering, and you’ve got a chaotic daily existence.
Yes, my foyer always looks like that. I am not OK with it.
That chaos is what I know, and it’s typically funny–mostly in hindsight–and sometimes poignant. It makes for a good story. “Write stories about your kids,” my friends said. “Tell stories about your husband!” they laughed. So, with the encouragement and support of the women in my life, I began writing about my chaos. Supported.
The writing quieted the restlessness. I felt like Pinocchio, “I’m real!” Like my voice was worth hearing. Validated.
But I still needed to get out of my house. Stir crazy. So I began working on Sunday afternoons at a local women’s active wear boutique. The owner’s name is Schuy, and she and I became fast friends. Schuy is the one of the warmest people I know. She’s easygoing with a smile that always reaches her eyes. Magnetic. “I’m so excited,” she told me one afternoon, “we’re bringing in a new line of clothing! Do you know Another Mother Runner?” she asked.
Do I know Another Mother Runner?!
“Shut UP!” I yelled. Obnoxious. “Run Like a Mother is on my nightstand! I have given it as a gift to my BRF’s! Did you actually talk to SBS or Dimity? In person?! Tell me everything!”
You see, I had laughed and cried and nodded my head yes and shook my head no as I had read their book. For a spell, Sarah’s and Dimity’s words were the last thing I read before closing my eyes at night. I drifted off to sleep those evenings a mighty little creature with a fierce spirit and a voice worth hearing who felt like she was part of something bigger simply from being a runner and having read their essays. Invigorated. Interrupting my nightly diatribe of “put two yogurts in this one’s lunchbox, sign that one’s homework, pull the bread out of the freezer, add the chicken to the crockpot,” with reminders that–as wholly as I love them–my identity doesn’t rest only in being Mother to my children was invaluable.
When Schuy suggested we enter a contest to run Ragnar with SBS and Dimity, I was game. Their writing had stirred something inside me, and the opportunity to meet them and embark on an adventure together felt like a once in a lifetime chance. A weekend to be more than Mom. Star struck.
We trained for Ragnar through the summer of 2013. That August, my family and I headed from our home in Pennsylvania to visit my Aunt and Uncle in West Virginia. Spontaneous. It’s a 5+ hour drive, and we pulled over at a beautiful space overlooking a lake in Western Maryland to let the boys run around and stretch their legs. I didn’t know it at the time, but we had pulled over at what would be the start line of the Ragnar Relay I would be running in less than two months. I walked down to the water, stood next to a blackberry bush, checked my email and, kismet, found a note from Dimity. Talented [with legs you want to reach out and touch]. ”Hey, Bethany, would you like to submit a chapter for our next book?” It was a huge, huge moment for me. Another once in a lifetime chance. A more than Mom moment. Grateful.
Last summer, my husband and I agreed that this would be the year that I would WRITE. He would drive the kids to school, I would glue my rear end to the chair, and pen personal narrative after personal narrative until I had a finished manuscript. One that made me proud. Well, it’s February, and there haven’t been any personal narratives. Life got in the way of his driving the kids to school. And SBS and Dimity offered me yet another once in a lifetime chance. This time to run the Boston Marathon. So those mornings that my rear end would have been glued to the chair writing have been spent training. Freezing. I mean excited!
And training for this race is saving me.
I have STUFF going on in my life right now. Unforeseeable STUFF. The kids are fine, the marriage is strong, we are all healthy, but I carry the STUFF with me everywhere I go. It’s heavy and steals the twinkle from my eyes. Unhinged. I can’t write about it. Living it is difficult enough. Not writing about the STUFF wears on me because writing is how I work through things. Disingenuous. So, the running is my time to process. My distraction. My focus. My outlet. My therapy. My peace. It’s saving me.
My heart beats for my husband and four sons. Almost everything I do in my everyday life is for them. But, in the throes of all of this STUFF, I find myself turning to the girls in my life. I’m stealing every bit of strength I can from my girlfriends. Fragile.
There is the friend who, when she heard I would be running Boston, said, “I’ll do every long run with you!” She, like me, has never run more than 13.1 miles. What an amazing gift. Supportive. She recently met Kathrine Switzer in California. She brought home a copy of Kathrine’s book, Marathon Woman, for me.
There is the friend who announced in December, “My motto for 2015 is everything I want is on the other side of fear!” She just sold her house, and she and her family will move this summer. She is chasing her dreams, and they’re leading her to the other side of the country. Her star burns too brightly to tether her to Philadelphia. She’s giving fear the one two punch. Brave.
There’s the friend who’s known heartbreaking loss, yet her first question is always “How can I help?” Resilient.
There are friends–runners and non-runners–who simply listen. Sympathetic. The girlfriend in Boston who reminds me how running can heal. Empathetic.
My sister. She was my first friend. She is my always friend. Loyal.
And my Mom. Whom I love. No matter what. Unconditional.
Everywhere I look I am in awe of the women in my life. Inspired.
It’s not what they wear. It’s not where they live. It’s not what they do for a living. It is the way they share my burden when I can’t shoulder it alone. The way they celebrate my success as though it were their own. The way they recognize something in me before I am able to see it myself. The way they accept all of the parts of me that make me a girl.
And I know that being a girl can be complicated. We are a mighty, fierce, antsy, driven, foolish, overwhelmed, supported, validated, stir crazy, magnetic, obnoxious, invigorated, star struck, spontaneous, talented, grateful, raw, freezing, excited, unhinged, disingenuous, fragile, supportive, brave, resilient, sympathetic, empathetic, loyal, unconditional, and inspired group.
And sometimes our spouses are moody.
Three years ago, a few girls encouraged me to put myself out there. It was their belief in me that gave me the courage to be vulnerable enough to write. Then another girl asked if I wanted to try to win a spot on a relay team with her. Because I wrote and because I ran, I met the girls who wrote the book that I keep on my nightstand because it reminds me that I am mighty and fierce and worth hearing. And because we have running and writing and laughing and being vulnerable and stripping away pretenses in common, we have remained in one another’s lives.
In a few short weeks, their third book will be out and, by some stroke of luck, I contributed a chapter. Six weeks after the release of the book, while many of you are just arriving home from your Mother Runner Retreat, I’ll be participating in the 2015 Boston Marathon.
This marathon training is a true journey, and today I need to acknowledge the emotion of it more than the miles accumulated.
I wouldn’t be here without my girls. My complicated, amazing, beautiful girls.
Now–because Kathrine Switzer told me to–I’m going to work on my fearlessness.
Because, on April 20th, ladies, “You’re gonna hear me ROAR!”
Cheesy.
Apologetic.
#148: Love-fest with Heart Strides Founder Denise Dollar
Dimity and Sarah give an audio hug to their guest, Denise Dollar, who founded Heart Strides, the mom-centric organization Another Mother Runner has chosen as its non-profit partner. Hear how this Boulder-based mother runner was inspired to help moms prioritize their health needs after facing her own challenges while caring for her son, who has Type 1 diabetes and is on the autism spectrum. Get a laugh when you find out what Denise Googled after her first run. Find out how you can help other moms, possibly by donating lightly used (or new!) running shoes and apparel. Before being joined by their guest, Sarah and Dimity work flower reproductive parts into the conversation.
At the midway point in the show, you’ll hear a bit about the AMR Run + Refresh Retreat. Here’s where you can find more details about this April 16-19 mother runner meet-up!
*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