May 2015

#163: Best Running Friend Molly Interviews Injured Sarah

They can't run together (for awhile), but they can hobble around the block together.

They can’t run together (for awhile), but they can hobble around the block together.

With Dimity off hosting a Mother Runner party, Sarah’s best running friend, Molly, fills in as guest co-host—but with a twist: Molly interviews Sarah about how she’s faring with her broken ankle. Molly dives in with questions about how Sarah is filling the time off from running, how she’s dealing with being basically housebound, and what she’s learned about her family. Molly even ventures into TMI territory with talk of pooping and sex (two separate topics!). Find out if Sarah’s 2016 Boston Marathon scenario still burns bright, and what would be the title of Sarah’s memoir, if ever the mother runner wrote one. Whether or not you’ve ever been injured, this is a not-to-be-missed episode.

From our sponsor: For 20% off a ROVEREDGE, or any Red Fox merchandise or active-lifestyle accessories, use promo code AMR2015 at Red Fox Wireless website.

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In Her Shoes: Running Laps with Pheidippides

Heidi running on hallowed ground.

Heidi running on hallowed ground.

I am visiting Athens for my job with a pharmaceutical company, and I need to run 12 miles or something that day. I ask the concierge for some advice. He says, “Oh! You could incorporate the original Olympic stadium.”

I start by running around the Acropolis, then I go to the stadium and pay a little money enter. Most people don’t come to run on the track, but it’s allowed. Usually visitors rent the headphones and they take the standard tour; I am the only one running that day.

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The track is like a regular track, a really nice cushy track, which wasn’t what I expected. I was thinking it might be ancient cinders. But surrounding me are relics of the past. There is a marble stadium and a cool, dark tunnel. There are marble bleachers cut into the hillside and stone thrones where nobility would sit. Totally hallowed ground; I imagine the athletes running through that tunnel onto the track. If I could decipher the plentiful plaques, I might know the runners’ names. Alas, it’s all Greek to me.

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I am planning to run a couple of laps around the track but I am so inspired. I am in a place where so many amazing athletes have been before me. I can’t believe little me is here, too.

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Several times, I run past one couple taking a traditional tour, and I finally decide I want a photo of me running here. So I ask the couple if they will take my picture. They oblige, and take pictures and video of me. As I continue circling the track, they cheer me on.

I ended up running about ten miles on the track. Back at the hotel, I thank the concierge for such a great suggestion.

 —Heidi (When she had IT Band Syndrome, she, “treated it like my life depended on it.” She went to PT and did all of the exercises faithfully, “to the point that while we were on vacation, my son noticed I had not been doing my exercises…and let me know as much.”)

Throwback Thursday: Staying on the Clean Eating Track

 

One of my newest sweet-enough treats. Good on toast, even better straight from the spoon.

I—Dimity—just reread this post after coming off a week of Midwest AMR-a-palooza, and it still resonates with me like it did in October 2012: avocados, almonds, always paying attention to what I eat.

After our whirlwind, awesome trip to Chicago, where we had a rockin’ house party in Glen Ellyn, and to Fontana, Wisconsin, for ZOOMA Great Lakes, where we connected with so many great BAMRs, I came home kind of depleted. I’ve done this–this squeezing a week’s worth of activities into 72 hours–enough times this year to realize that it takes me at least 3 more days to feel like myself. Please note: I’m not complaining–I love that I get to do this–I’m just stating fact.

And when I don’t feel like myself, I eat like crap. Today, I’ve had 2.5 chocolate chip cookies, two handfuls of dark chocolate-covered acai berries, and a medium-sized bowl of Drumstick ice cream. Which is pretty much the daily amount of sugar I used to eat, at a minimum, pre-cleanse. But I don’t eat that much at all these days, and right now, right now, I feel both listless and angry.

On the whole, though, I’ve cleaned up my eating significantly. While I haven’t felt much of a physical difference–I don’t think I had issues with gluten or dairy–I feel a huge mental difference. My moods are less like the mountains of Colorado and more like the flat plains of Iowa, which I’ll happily take. I don’t crave sugar anymore; even on days like today, I eat it because I’m tired and overwhelmed and a little sad, not because my cells are yelling for M&Ms.

On the whole, I’m about 85% cleaner, 15% dirty. Most of the time, my bread is Ezekiel. My dinner is something like brown rice, black beans, avocados on a bed of spinach. My nightly beer has turned into my weekly beer or three. My snacks are almonds and honeycrisp apples. But Friday night is always pizza, and I’ll never turn down chocolate chip cookies or a Diet Coke, especially if I’m traveling.

While my taste buds seemed to have grown up about 20 years over the past two months, I have a few strategies that have definitely helped as well:

I love my husband and I love these, but if he brings home another gallon-sized bag of them from Costco, marital disharmony will ensue.

1.  I don’t buy the stuff I know won’t serve me well. Simple, I realize, but it’s also a huge reason for my success. If it’s not easily accessible, chances are, I won’t eat it.  The chocolate chip cookies were from a fundraiser for a neighbor, and the acai berries were from Grant, who went to Costco yesterday to buy a few household things like dog food and paper towel. I thought of telling him to please NOT buy anything sugary in bulk, but thought he knew better. Apparently, he didn’t.

My typical sweet post-dinner treats: a piece of toast with Justin’s Chocolate Hazelnut Butter or a small bowl of some Love Grown Cocoa Goodness Granola.  Or a smallish bowl of ice cream.

2. I’ve changed the staples I buy. At least once a week, I buy broccoli, a new tub of baby spinach, zucchini, sweet potatoes, butternut squash, cashews, almond butter, almond milk, and avocados. Lord, do I eat the avocados now. One of my fave lunches these days: turkey sandwich: one slice of Ezekiel bread has half an avocado spread on it, sprinkled with salt; the other slide has a wedge of Daily Cow cheese spread on it. Delish–and really filling.

3. I try–emphasis on try–to cut myself off at the pass. When I’m not feeling great and know that if I suck down the sugar, I’m going down even further, I pull out the baby carrots and red pepper hummus, and make myself eat at least 10 of them before I eat anything else. Or I slice up an apple and have that before I can think about something less healthy.

Another helpful, yellow book. I sense a trend.

4. I read. Specifically, I soak up this passage from You Are Here: Discovering the Magic of the Present Moment by Thich Nhat Hanh. A friend gave me the little yellow book, a primer on Buddhism, when I was feeling so blue in August, and I keep it by my bed and read a little from it a few times a week. Although the sentiment is definitely lofty, it really resonates with me–especially the bold part.

Aware of the suffering caused by unmindful consumption, I vow to cultivate good health, both physical and mental, for myself, my family, and my society by practicing mindful eating, drinking, and consuming. I vow to ingest only items that preserve peace, well-being, and joy in my body, in my consciousness, and in the collective body and consciousness of my family and society.

Do you have any tricks you use when you’re craving crap but know you shouldn’t? What foods preserve peace, well-being, and joy in your body and consciousness?

Throwback Wednesday: What’s Your Running Mantra?

Jake doesn’t quit, and neither does Kristen.

Here’s an oldie-but-goodie because you can always use a new (or new-to-you) mantra, right? 

Word on the street is that Train Like a Mother: How to Get Across Any Finish Line – and Not Lose Your Family, Job, or Sanity is starting to ship…can you hear my excitement from the keyboard? As you strain your ears, check out the next installment of your awesome motherly feedback that will forever live on this lovely website.

Take It From a Mother: Do You Have a Mantra?

“The old Helen Reddy song, ‘I Am Woman!’ I sometimes sing the lyrics out loud if I need a little extra push”
Dawn (favorite workout: always the last workout she completed)

Little steps, little steps. An article in Runner’s World mentioned how a smaller stride makes you faster and stronger.”
—Deb (never puked, post race. “I’m not a big fan of barfing. Ever.”)

Earn the downhill!
—Suzanne (access to trails was on her new-house-must-have list for realtor)

Don’t quit.
Kristen (backstory: before the Dallas half-marathon, one of her boys drew a picture of the word ‘quit’ with a circle around it and a line through it. Even when she injured herself at mile ten, she kept seeing that card in her head. Turns out, she broke a bone in her foot.)

A mantra I can get behind.

Forever forward. My husband put it on my Road ID bracelet”
Maggie (Mentally tough? “I can hold a pace really well, have run a marathon and listen to my body si I can stop when necessary. I think that all takes mental toughness.”)

I’m in charge! Power!”
—Amanda (as a skin cancer survivor, she always wears a hat and sunscreen on runs)

I will never give up
—Kesha (rewards herself after a long run with a Starbucks skim mocha. “My version of post-run chocolate milk.”)

 “Enjoy, enjoy, enjoy.”
—Misha (must-have gear: friends and good shoes.)

“In the midst of pushing during delivery, the nurse holding my left leg exclaimed, ‘Wow, your legs are strong!’ It filled me up with a little extra I didn’t know I still had in me after 40 hours of labor. When I feel lousy on a run, I remember that nurse’s voice and her words and I keep pushing through to the finish.”
—Tara (best trick for keeping kids entertained in the stroller: cranking her music. “No mother-of-the-year-award for me?”)

“One of my first grade students, Aaron, once told me, ‘Run like a cheetah’. I play that over in my mind again and again during races and think, ‘Aaron, I’m trying!’”
Laura (dry heaves at the finish line of almost every race. “If I’m not coughing and feeling ill, I’m irritated that I didn’t push myself hard enough.”)

“Try not to laugh. In the winter, it’s ‘I’m a snowflake,’ as in, I’m light and can float in the air to help my form. In the spring it’s ‘I’m a butterfly’.”
—Martha (guessing she’s a falling leaf in autumn; word is still out her summer imagery)

“’Work it, shake it ‘lil momma, let me see you do the Jane Fonda.’ It’s from a Mickey Avalon song with a great beat. Toward the end of a long training run, say mile 15, it kicks me into high gear.”
—Lauren (started running a decade ago, when a guy she was dating told her she was too fat and out-of-shape to run a marathon. “They were nicer words. I just don’t remember them.”)

I am a runner.”
—Erika (runs slow and steady during a race, “with a crazy burst at the end when I see the digital clock.”)

“No, but I need one.”
—Carmen (sex or alcohol the night before a race? “No, too nervous.”)

Now we’re taking it to you mothers: what’s your mantra?

#162: Tales from Another Mother Runner Essayist (and Runner’s World Exec Editor) Tish Hamilton

Tish (in the long sleeved teal shirt) and her "fast teacher friend" (in orange/white tee over her right shoulder) at a race start.

Tish (in the long sleeved teal shirt) and her “fast teacher friend” (in orange/white tee over her right shoulder) at a race start.

Tish Hamilton, the executive editor of Runner’s World, once again joins Sarah and Dimity for a chat. This mother runner of one opines about the wonders of running friends and how hers got her through an unexpected divorce. After reading an excerpt of her brilliant essay in Tales from Another Mother, Tish and the ladies explore various ways to find a BRF. The gals were all pleased no mice were harmed for the recording of this podcast, which makes sense since Tish tells a tale proving she’s most definitely not a Boston Marathon “squeaker” anymore!

*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

#BAMRdown: A Progress Report

This meme, texted to me by my marathon coach while I was in the E.R., opened floodgates on torrent of mixed-emotion tears.

This meme, texted to me by my marathon coach while I was in the E.R., opened floodgates on torrent of mixed-emotion tears.

In the days immediately following my accident in which I fractured two bones in my right ankle, I got verklempt every time someone was kind or helpful. When Hillary, one of the mother runners I was running with, let me hold her hand as we waited for Jonna to arrive with a ride to the ER, I silently sobbed. The next day, when Jonna took me to get my hair professionally washed at the hotel salon, my breath caught in my throat and tears streaked my cheeks. When Jonna hopped in the car to drive me home to Portland (five+ hours, through the night!) rather than put me on a plane, I cried some more. When my son, John, patted my arm and asked if I was feeling sad, the floodgates opened again. When Natalie, a Wisconsin mother runner at our Retreat, shared a mantra with me pre-surgery via text, I wept and nodded.

Yeah, I was pretty much an emotional wreck.

The mantra mother-of-4 Natalie shared with me a few hours before I had surgery on May 6: "Now is the time for guts and grace."

The mantra mother-of-4 Natalie shared with me a few hours before I had surgery on May 6: “Now is the time for guts and grace.”

But now that I’ve been carried along these past three weeks on a veritable river of kindness and generosity by countless mother runners, neighbors, family members, and friends, I can remain dry eyed most of the time and even smile and laugh. I’ve been buoyed by mother runner love from all directions–a novel from Rachel in Australia; a beautiful bouquet from Ragnar teammates; a badass coaster from Jen in N.C.; a care package from No Limits ladies in Wisconsin and Minnesota, overflowing with chocolates, puzzles, nuts, a lip gloss, and books; scrumptious meals; and cards.

Love, swag, and healing vibes sent from MN and WI feed my resolve on a daily basis.

Love, swag, and healing vibes sent from MN and WI feed my resolve on a daily basis.

So many heart-warming cards and letters, like this one tucked into an exchange from our store from Annie in Denver: “Dear Sarah, I am so sorry about your accident. I offer up prayers for a quick (and full) healing every time I run. Also, I hope you are able to be free of all the heartache that comes with not being able to do what you love.”

Okay, so I thought I could remain weep-free as I typed that message; I was mistaken. It’s sentiments like that I’m trying to embrace during this healing period. I’m focusing on the short term, not the long term. Last night, on an incredibly slow walk around the block with my BRF, Molly, I told her it’s too tough to look too far into the future. As much as I want this recovery time to speed by in a blur, it’s not. And since I usually lament how my kids are growing up too fast and I’ll be collecting Social Security any day now, I have vowed to not be a hypocrite and wish it all away. Instead, I’m prodding my children for details from their outside lives–anecdotes of Daphne’s  classic soccer practices; stories from John about crushes his classmates are sporting; tales of “masters drama” tryouts from Phoebe.

Me on liberating iWalk device and BRF Molly being a delightful goof before our "marathon" walk around the block on Wednesday evening.

Me on liberating iWalk device and BRF Molly being a delightful goof before our “marathon” walk around the block on Wednesday evening.

Because, it turns out, it’s the impact of my injury on my family life that still makes me sad. Yes, I miss morning workouts with Molly something fierce; and yes, I wish I could be getting my sweat on during sunny spring days, but I’m enough of an optimist to believe those experiences are out there waiting for me. But it was spending most of Mother’s Day inside instead of making our annual family pilgrimage to an iris garden that had me teary two weekends ago, and missing a Native American canoe expedition with the twins on a class field trip that sank me the deepest into despair. The runs and conversations often merge into a brilliant blur that can be resumed, but it’s unique missed experiences with my family that still make me, well, verklempt.

My hardware and stitches--and a somewhat macabre #AMRinSaucony.

My hardware and stitches–and a somewhat macabre #AMRinSaucony.

I composed the previous portion of this post before first post-surgical appointment with ortho surgeon. The splint was removed, and docs were pleased with what they saw, both on the exterior and on the X-rays. They took the stitches out, but then came the part I’d been dreading: a cast. A non-weight-bearing cast. For at least three weeks, then hopefully transition to a weight-bearing boot.

Turns out my fibula was more shattered than they had first thought (surgeons discovered this during surgery so it wasn’t news…but I was so hazy post-operation, it actually was a tear-inducing revelation to me), so my recovery is going to take longer than the initial prognosis. One surgeon, the more conservative of the two, said she thought maybe I’d be running five miles by six months post-surgery (so early November). But she has concerns about pain and possible arthritis. 

I’m still sorting it all out in my somewhat-addled mind: a fresh batch (or two) of tears at the doctors office, but Optimism is my middle name, so I’m sticking with that. I’ll keep you posted, and please know I literally can feel the healing vibes you all are sending me. The other day I quieted my mind, thought of the AMR tribe, and I swear I could feel my bones knitting back together. I’ll just try not to cry every time someone tweets a positive affirmation or writes an encouraging comment on Instagram. XO

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