October 2016

#230: Eldercare Advice for “Sandwiched” Mother Runners

 Sarah and her kids with Sarah's parents. (Yes, Sarah's 90-year-old mother colors her hair!)


Sarah and her kids with Sarah’s parents. (Yes, Sarah’s 90-year-old mother colors her hair!)

Sarah and co-host Adrienne Martini veer off the typical trail to discuss eldercare advice – a topic that’ll affect pretty much every mother runner out there at some point (“An age-tsunami is coming!” proclaims the guest). They welcome Alana Russell, a licensed clinical social worker who has worked in geriatrics for nearly two decades. Sarah and Adrienne bring a personal perspective to this conversation, as they are both actively dealing with care options for elderly parents. Alana shares loads of practical advice, as well as several humorous anecdotes—including where her own parents store their Do Not Resuscitate orders and when her family members choose to share their end-of-life wishes. The mother runners talk about the importance of senior citizen’s self-determination and caregivers developing a united front. Find out why vacuuming is over-rated. Alana recommends numerous resources, including the National Association of Area Agencies on Aging and a network of geriatric care professionals (re-branded as Aging Life Care Professionals).

*For more details about Hyland’s homeopathic remedies, visit Hyland’s website.

*Visit the re-vamped Mother Runner Store: All orders in October include a free #BAMR temporary tattoo, perfect for sporting at your next race!

*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. We’ve also joined the Acast podcast network, download their app to hear our podcast and many others like it!

Dry Martini: A day without worry is like a day without sunshine

While woman-ing the AMR booth at Wineglass this weekend, I got to talking with Alana, who a) you’ll hear on this week’s podcast and b) drove down from Rochester to unfold and refold t-shirts with me, which is why the AMR booth is the most glamorous booth to be in.

(An aside: the Expo was extra-super awesome thanks to all of the mother runners who came out to fondle merch and chat about running and babies and bladders. Sales were second-day heavy, which made it wonderfully chaotic, and all of my helpers — Lisa, Alana, Brenda, and Katrina — kicked butt. Thanks to all y’all!)

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BAMRs in the Booth.

Alana, who will be running her first marathon in Toronto next weekend, confessed that she is currently hyper-paranoid about germs and injury. “Me, too!” I said, because I am turning into a champion worrier about the slightest sniffle or minor ache. The idea that all of these long runs that consumed my weekends could be wasted because I caught a stomach bug from one of my children keeps me up at night. I’ve invested so much time at this point that the very idea that I could be taken out by turing an ankle because I’ve tripped over an acorn makes me want to hurl, which then makes me wonder if I want to hurl because I’m getting sick … etc and so on.

Adding to the worry is the outside of my right foot. Somewhere towards the end of my 18-miler two weekends ago, there was one spot on my hoof that started to talk to me a little bit. Not scream. Not whine. Just a casual conversation in slightly elevated tones that caught my attention. It was the only sour aspect of the run itself, which was more or less long, then longer still, then endless, then done.

My foot was still muttering at me the next morning but, frankly, it was hard to hear over the screaming of my legs, especially when I had to shuffle Tin-Man-like to the bathroom. As the morning went on, though, my gams loosened up and felt OK. But the foot; the foot did not.

I gave it a second day of rest because it seemed like what a sensible grown-up would do. Then ran on it the next day, which hurt a little but wasn’t debilitating. Then my acupuncturist friend worked some magic on it and my incredibly tight calves. I believe she mentioned the phrase “plantar fascitis” but I couldn’t be certain because I’d jammed my fingers in my ears the moment she got the “pl-” out.

Actually, I’m pretty sure it’s not the dread PF because of where on my foot it hurts. But that just could be denial speaking.

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It hurts where the red arrow is pointing. But not all of the time and not too much. And, FYI, this is not my foot.

Regardless, I ran the Wineglass Half without any foot-related incidents. It did get a little whiney around mile 11, just like the rest of me. And it doesn’t feel great when my feet hit the floor after sitting for too long, just like my calves and my hips and pretty much the rest of me.

My hope is that it will go away. If it doesn’t do that, I would be OK with it getting worse, because then it would be worth seeing a doctor over. Right now, we’re in a gray area. I’ll just worry about it incessantly because that’s what I do now.

As for the half itself — it was a nice run. It turns out that the trick to no longer being daunted by 13.1 miles is to train for a marathon. Coach’s plan was to run the first five at an easy pace, the next five at a 12:00 pace, then the last three at 11:20. Which is more or less what I did, with the exception of when I tried to fire it up at the end. My body merely shrugged and gave a damp little fizzle because all of the Expo-ing left my legs a little worse for wear. Ah, well.

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I know Sarah Bowen Shea was nowhere near the race because I found a penny during mile 11.

Also during the half, at about mile three, my brain decided it would be a great time to obsess about how long 26 miles it and how I was only at mile three of this race and that, in just a few weeks, I’ll still have 23 miles to go and wow what was I thinking and crap this was a bad plan and I am a complete knob for thinking a marathon was a great idea. You know. As one does.

Eventually, I pulled my mental socks up and got on with running. Not sure I have some great trick to pass on, other than waiting for my inner complainer to simply run out of gas. Which she did, once she noticed I wasn’t giving her as much attention as she wanted.

Since this whole post is turning out to be about my obsessions — well, the running related ones anyway — let me mention Alicia Keys.

I’m a fan of The Voice, mostly because of a thing I have for Adam Levine, even though I know in real life I would squash him.

This season has Alicia Keys, whose generosity and spirit and all-around grooviness comes through every time she speaks. When she tells a contestant that she sees them, I truly believe she does. Alicia Keys, it turns out, ran the NYC marathon last year, which makes her a total Badass Mother Runner.

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BAMR.

While I’d love it if she could give me a big hug at the finish line and tell me that I’m amazing, it’s enough to know that she’s run the same course, too, and in about the same time as I will. And, of course, I’m now scouring her catalog for songs to add to my playlist. “Girl on Fire” is a gimme.  What (and who, because it doesn’t need to be all Alicia all the time) else should I add?

In Case You Missed It: The AMR Run + Refresh Retreat Recap in All Its Glory

Maybe you couldn’t make it to the Run + Refresh Retreat a few weekends ago, but that doesn’t mean you can’t absorb SBS and Dimity’s sage wisdom from the stage in Spokane. One of the perks of staying at the Red Lion hotel is the The Living Stage capabilities, which recorded every wise word from AMR’s co-founders.

Check out the video below to get a word-for-word recap, which involves Dimity’s secret to the Port-a-Potty; SBS’s bulletproof gel regimen for a strong marathon finish, why you need to smile, smile, smile; and more gems.

Whadda think? Did we get you pumped for next year’s Retreat?

Best Running Tops for Women in Revamped Mother Runner Store

AMR store

Good new, ladies! We’ve spiffied up Mother Runner Store, and it’s easier than ever to shop your favorite tees, hoodies, hats, jewelry, and more—all with just the right amount of attitude. The best running tops for women (like the short-sleeve Badass Mother Runner tattoo tech tee, below) are simply a click away.

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We’ve streamlined the sections and layout, making it easier than even to browse items. Use the zoom function to zero in on our cool designs and click through to get all the details on a fresh new product page. Plus, we made check out easier because what mother runner has time to spare?! Oh, and how could we forget to mention: We lowered shipping charges on domestic orders!! (Woohoo!) Here are just a few of the options you can shop. (Below, check out the awesome gift-with-purchase on every order while supplies last!)

Sweatshirts for humble-bragging about your race accomplishments, $35 each:
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Trucker hats, $20, for keeping cool and looking hot:
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Silver pendants to show off your passion, $55 each:
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AMR Flag Hoodie for fall’s chill, $58:
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I Am Stronger Than I Thought tee, how we all feel post-run, $25:
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Bonus! Every October order on the new site gets a free #BAMR temporary tattoo, just like SBS sported at Boston:
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Sarah’s #BAMR ankle before Boston.

So, what’s at the top of your list?

Twin Cities Marathon Ahead! And Longest Pre-Race Post Ever.

Run the Twin Cities: Many Minnesota-Nice Miles: the AMR Exclusive Gear for the Twin Cities expo this weekend. Youbetcha I'm wearing one in the 10 miler.

Run the Twin Cities: Many Minnesota-Nice Miles: the AMR Exclusive Gear for the Twin Cities expo this weekend. Youbetcha I’m wearing one in the 10 miler.

 

Two reminders before I launch into a post almost as long as the 10-miler itself:

1. In addition to Another Mother Runner having a booth at the Twin Cities Marathon expo, Sarah and I will be speaking on the Twin Cities Expo stage—Enjoy and Excel: How to Race Like a Mother—from 4 to 5 on Friday, October 7. We’ll have prizes and plenty of laughs, so join us if you can!

2. We’ll also be hosting 30-ish-minute, slow shake-out run before the Twin Cities 10 Miler or Marathon. We’ll leave from Coffee Bene (53 Cleveland Av S., St Paul, MN 55105) at 7:45 sharp, head up Summit for a bit (away from the races going on that morning), then come back and hang with some lattes and BAMRs. We have a group room reserved from 8:15-9:30 at Coffee Bene, so if you just want to meet for java and chatter, join us post-run.(There is a $3 minimum per person; if that’s a problem, let Dimity know on Saturday morning and we’ll figure it out!) Any #motherrunner can join; you don’t need to be running on Sunday or in a TLAM Challenge to attend. Thanks!

When it comes to races, I have two rules:

1. I rarely, rarely do the same race twice. That way, there’s no way I can have a direct comparison of my performances—and, as such, I mitigate the chance for feeling disappointed.

2. My time goals, If I I set them, are rarely so ambitious that they’d be out of my reach. Notice the “if.” Mostly, I just don’t set them at all and just run. Again, disappointment on race day: I just don’t want to go there.

Way, way back in the day, I was a top rower. I won’t make you relive my glory days, but I will let you know that when I quit the sport, my overtrained body, exhausted mind truly QUIT. And 25 years later, I can still taste the disappointment around which I have now put protective mental fences. I know I did the right thing, but quitting is not really in my DNA.

When I QUIT rowing, I promised myself I would never need to push myself that hard again. I promised myself I’d never wear a heart rate monitor again. I promised myself that all my physical activity would be on my terms. No more coaches, no more periodized plans, no more pressure.

Some promises are meant to be broken though.

Over two decades later, I wear a heart rate monitor for every run. I have been lucky to have thoughtful, compassionate coaches to guide me over the years (thank you, Ilana, Bri, MK!). These days, I am—dare I say it?—slightly enjoying pushing myself harder than I have in years. Just slightly though.

Some rules are meant to be broken too.

This weekend, I am heading back to the Twin Cities 10-miler, site of one my best races ever for a variety of reasons. I am both crazy excited—it is truly a beautiful course—and crazy anxious. Because I know what my time was there: a speedy (for me) 1:24. (Why do I, who regularly confuses the dates of my kids’ birthdays, remember time that so well?  I wrote it in the post.)

So here’s the double-whammy: not only am I going back to a race where I basically tasted #motherrunner physical and emotional nirvana, I’ve been working hard lately and I am—do you believe?— not injured.

Translation: I have the ability to run my best on race day.

Have I do enough to beat 1:24? I don’t know. I hope so, but my more intense miles are hard to caclulate, since I’m not basing them on totally splits. I have been working on feeling my paces. When my workout intervals call for a 10K pace, I ask myself, can I hold this for an hour? An hour: the benchmark MK and I have settled on for feeling my 10K pace.

I’d like to think, when I am tapered and all is firing well, that I’ve found an intense pace I could run for an hour. That said, I’m still not sure because I haven’t tried recently. Make that years.

More importantly, I’ve also really been trying to find a calm, accepting mental place when the work gets tough. I did a few tough workouts (6 x 1K with two minutes rest at 10K pace) outside and was flailing around so much on my pace, I had no opportunity to even feel anything except frustrated at my amazing lack of self-awareness and -control when I run.

So I decided to run them on the treadmill so I could just concentrate on my head and leaning into the effort. When I come to about last 90 seconds the intervals, I force myself into a mental rhythm so I can (try to) stop fixating on the hurt and find a rhythm with each footfall. One word for each step.

I.AM.STRONG.
I.AM.L;IGHT.

It worked well. (Although, I will admit, I also tee up a nice assist from listening to some of my old, favorite tunes. I mean, how can you NOT just go for it when Pat Benatar’s All Fired Up is blaring?)

Anyway two weekends ago, I took my newly formed mantras outside for my last hard workout of this training cycle: 35 minute warm-up at easy heart rate, 10 x 4 minutes at 10K pace, 1 minute off, 25 minutes at easy heart rate, 2 miles at marathon race pace.

I got through about six intervals without needing too much mental umph. And then the last four intervals were HARD. One minute in, and I’m all, I.am.strong.I.am.l;ght.I.am.strong.I.am;l;ight.I.am.not.sure.why.I.am.running.hard.like.this.and.f.this.
and.how.much.time.is.left.and.I.am.strong.and.still.two.minutes.to.go.holy.hell.there’s.no.way.I.
can.do.10.of.these.

That said, I do notice that my form immediately improves when I get my strong;l;ight on, and I swear, my effort gets easier.

I truly don’t know if I get faster, but I’ll take easier when I’m doing that thing I promised myself I would never do post-rowing: going way out of my athletic comfort zone. With a heart rate monitor on, no less.

 

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Because I’m all about transparency, my four-minute intervals clocked in under an 8:13 pace, and my marathon race pace miles were 8:50 and 9:04. And yes, this was a freakin’ crazy long and hard workout.

 

So here’s the thing. I feel weird posting my splits here, because I hope you know me well enough by now that so many more running-related things—mental health, confience, strength, friendship, connection, joy, foward motion—are so much more important to me than numbers are.

Still, we all know that in this sport, the numbers matter.

So another thing: I was going to wait until after the race to write about it and somehow couch my race in a word salad that would justify every mile. I’m still going to do that—and Lord knows, every mile will be lovely in some respect—but I hope you also know me well enough by now that I’m all about transparency.

Going to sea level will give me an assist. Being on my favorite Minnesota homesoil with my posse of #BAMNRs will give me assist. The cooler temps will give me an assist. Knowing I’m going to be able to cheer my head off after my 10 miler for the marathoners will give me an assist.

Still, I am not confident I can run 10 consecutive miles that average 8:24. And if I let myself, a slight obsession with 8:24 splits will swirl around in my head for the next six days through carpool trips and basketball practices, work meetings and dinner prep. Which, I probably don’t need to tell you, is not super productive or helpful.

My solution: Instead of letting a time goal dominate my thoughts for the next six days, I’m going to concentrate on this: running SMART, STRONG AND SOLID

SMART: I am setting my Polar M400 exclusively to heart rate, and following the plan to the best of my badass ability. If I do nothing else on this 10-miler, I want to race smart. Not go out too fast, take the hills well, and pass people at the end.

STRONG: When it gets hard—and it will—I will not walk through the aid stations. I will not to not stop to tie my shoe unless it legit needs to be tied. I will repeat I.AM.STRONG.I.AM.L;IGHT so many times, I will get lost in the rhythm of it.

SOLID: As the miles tick off towards 8, 9, 10, I want to see that as an opportunity to lean in and shine, not an excuse to back off. If I can finish the race and say to myself, Dimity, you did not let yourself of the hook once, I will be as solid as the biceps of Jessie Ventura, the once illustrious MN governor.

Will that add up to a sub 1:24? We shall see.

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When I’m standing in my starting corral,I will take deep breaths to keep myself calm and ready to race. I will remind myself that Billie Jean King said that pressure is a privilege and remember how lucky I am to be able to lean into the (self-induced) pressure. I will remember that I signed up for this race, I earned the right to feel this pressure. I will remind myself I.AM.STRONG.I.AM.L;IGHT.

And then I will go out and be the smartest, strongest, most solid runner I am able to be on Sunday, October 9, 2016. And that, no matter how it shakes out, simply can’t be disappointing.

Q for you: How do you balance pressure and enjoyment? Do you set up safeguards against disappointing races?

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