Madame Butterfly
Ready, set…lay off, Mom?
Six years ago, I wrote this post, and I thought of it—and the insightful comments it fielded—quite a bit this weekend at the Colorado Crossroads Volleyball Tournament, a massive festival of spikes and whisles and girls in lycra shorts. Amelia, now in 8th grade, is playing club volleyball for the first time. No matter what sport she plays, I’m still torn between pushing (just a little) and observing and cheering. As I gave her a (small) tip about moving her feet after one game, she rolled her eyes at me, as only teenagers can do. “Nobody can ever accuse me of not caring,” I replied with a laugh, before she just nodded and headed off to join her team.
After you read this #throwbacktuesday post, I will be thrilled to read additional comments about youth + sports: such a loaded topic, and such an important one. Thanks!
There’s only one sport that shares my brain space with running: swimming. I was decent at the sport because my feet, roughly the size of water skis, are great flippers and my wingspan is nearly Jordan-esque when I stretch out for the butterfly. More importantly, I feel a grace and power in the water I’ve never felt on my own two feet.
When I got to eighth grade, I stopped swimming; I had been on a club team. I wished that my high school in Minnesota had a swimming pool, but we, being the good ‘sota school we were, didn’t have a pool. We, of course, had an ice rink.
My urge to swim was so great, when I learned to row my freshman year of college, I thought to myself at least once a workout, I wish I were in the water, not on top of it. (We did have the good fortune to flip in the water in the Erie Canal once, during a sleeting rain in March, but that’s another story.) I really wanted to get up the nerve to go see the swimming coach and just see if there’s any way I could try out for the team, but I could never muster it: what if he just thought I was a joke?
When I get in one of those wistful what-if moods, swimming always bobs to the surface first.
So when I signed Amelia up for the swim team this year, I knew it would be a test of my parenting skills. A test as in to not totally helicopter and not totally live vicariously. She has been blessed with my height and, last year, fielded some praise from her YMCA swim instructor. That’s should be enough for an Olympic medal, right?
She’s done well in her first season. Her bulletin board is slowly filling up with ribbons–most of them from the butterfly, the stroke I loved most–and she’s competed in a few invite-only races, including the one I’m most proud of: an 100 IM where she, the only girl in a field of four, beat two boys.
O.k., maybe Dara Torres is a bit intense. But can you believe those abs?
She could care less about whether she beats the boys. She cares about whether her friends are in her lane; I care about if she’s learning flip turns. She is most interested in what’s up for grabs at the snack bar at races; I am most interested in where she places. She won’t wear a cap; I tell her it’ll make her faster. In other words, she’s totally laid-back about her swimming, where I’m all she’s-the-next-coming-of-Dara-Torres.
“Tell Muti what you did today,” I prompt her to tell my mom about her IM awesomeness after the meet. She looks at me with a blank stare, like the swim meet was months ago, not two hours ago.
So what do you do with a child who you want to be destined for greatness? I type that sarcastically, but it’s an honest question–and one I’m grappling with. She’ll likely never wear a USA uniform, but she’s a talented swimmer and she does like it (I promise). Here in Colorado, kids start soccer at age three and seem to have a sport specialty by age nine. Plenty of kids on her team swim through the winter.
I start to think that’s what I’ll suggest to her, and then think, “She’s 8. If she starts staring at a black line year round now, she’ll want to quit when she’s 14. What if she’s good enough to swim in college?”
Then I think, “But what if she has to start now in order to swim in college?”
Then I think, “This year, she’ll have homework, she wants to play soccer, she wants to learn how to play the violin, so maybe no swimming this year.”
Then I think, “Lord help me, I’m turning into a tiger mom whose overscheduled, overpressured kids will only mutter my name when they’re in therapy in 10 years.”
As I’ve surf around the Internet for youth swim programs, I alternate between being intensely interested and embarrassed I’m even looking. When did sports become so complicated? I don’t even remember my mom being at my swim meets, let alone trying to push or polish me as an athlete.
What do your mom instincts tell you to do? Do you push, gently nudge or be passive?
Room on the Road: Smile Miles
Lately I’ve been working on being present, trying not to get too far ahead of myself or look too far behind. Right here, right now is my current mantra.
Keeping that in mind, I recently set out to hit a local trail with a new mission: five smiles for my miles. This isn’t the first time I’ve done this. I’ve been mentally collecting five things that make me smile while I’m out on the trail or circling the track at our local Y. I don’t look too hard—that takes the fun out of it—and I can’t leave the trail or end the workout until I find them.
So I began, trudging across the street into the parking lot finding my first smile: THE bench. I must have a hundred photos of it and each one evokes a different feeling for me. It’s my check-in point. I quietly say hello, giving it a glance to let it know I’m there, present, and ready to hit the trail.
Smile #1: the bench.
It’s also a common spot for group photos, which makes me think of all the friends that I’ve huddled with behind it. I can hear the laughs as we try to figure out who is the best at a group selfie. Who has the longest arm? Who’s the tallest? Make sure you take two! Our arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders, giving each other a squeeze, happy to be together.
I say goodbye to the bench, give thanks for the beautiful view and before hitting the trail I find my second smile: the unofficial Lost and Found spot.
Even though I hardly carry enough on a run to lose anything, I check it religiously. Strangers looking out for strangers gives me hope.
I’ve seen everything from dog tags to water bottles hovering around and on the sign as they wait to be claimed. I’ve also witnessed its success. Last year I stumbled upon a stressed-out teenager frantically combing the grassy areas and retracing his steps. He was having his senior pictures taken and at some point took his hand out of his pocket where his class ring had been for safe keeping. His cheeks were red with worry, his brow furrowed. “I was taking my hand out of my pocket to hold my trumpet, and it must have fallen out,” he explained to me and my friend Amy.
It wasn’t long before we were scouring the area for his ring and later on enlisting our friend Karen. His parents had arrived, the photographer explained what happened. It was a matter of seconds between having it in his pocket and being lost.
We searched, feeling hopeless and sad for this young man when Amy took their phone number just in case. I explained to his mom that I come to this trail often and will keep an eye out for it. The worried look on her face told me that didn’t ease her mind.
A few days later, I was heading out on the trail with another group of friends, telling them about the ring. As we passed the lost and found area my friend Mary yelled, “Denise! Someone found a ring!” There on the sign was a piece of scrap paper “FOUND: RING please call….”
It was his ring. It was returned to him. About a week later his mom sent me a gift card, along with a very gracious note sharing love happy endings—and this was indeed a very happy ending.
Smile #2: lost and found
Two down, three to go. I take a left at the fork and head up a hill, prairie dogs chirping away, warning each other to get back down in their hole. I’m not going to hurt you, and you’re kind of freaking me, out so can you please stop with the danger calls? I quickly move past them, looking forward to some quiet.
It doesn’t take me long to find my smiles, in fact, most days I could easily find more than five. That is when I’m present and not thinking of a long list of errands that sits on my kitchen counter, my son going into high school next year, and fast forward to college.
Third smile, this straight stretch, which can be boring, windy and often times feels twice as long as it is. Run to the pole, run to that rock, run to the building, just make it to the corner and then you can stop. As much as I loathe it some days, I always love it because it reminds me of when I first started running, a nice long straight, FLAT, straight stretch.
Smile #3: the flat part
As I come across my next smile I think of my friend Claire. She recently posted a photo of the mountains on FB simply stating “I live here!” and that’s exactly what I thought when I saw this view, I LIVE HERE! May I never take these views for granted.
Smile #4: the view
Last but not least, heart-shaped rocks, they always make me smile. Whenever I find one, I am always reminded that love is always there. I just have to be open to seeing it.
Smile #5: love
What makes you smile on your miles? If you have time to snag a photo, share it and tag it #AMRsmilemile. We want to see!
#250: Menopause and Running
Sarah and Ellison Weist, both fifty-somethings, get real, discussing myriad aspects of menopause (both positive and negative) and perimenopause with Dr. Susan Reed, a noted expert in midlife women’s health. As she’s also a mother and a long-time runner/triathlete, Dr. Reed speaks with a deep empathy of mother runners and how menopausal symptoms can throw us off our game (or, rather, workout routine!). Recognizing inability to sleep is a major concern, she offers numerous suggestions for getting more and better quality shut-eye. She talks extensively about various hormonal therapy options to treat symptoms of The Change, including several prescriptions normally used to prevent baby-making, as well as other types of Rx’s. Dr. Reed teases apart what side effects are related to aging versus menopause. Adding some brevity: a frank discussion for (yet another!) use for coconut oil, and find out what type of contest Sarah might enter (but hopefully not win!). Most important take-away from the good doc: Don’t tough out menopause. Amen, sister!
REMINDER: Please email Voice Memos to ShopGal [at] anothermotherrunner [dot] com: We need ones re: kids + running by Monday, March 6. Thank you so much for your input!
Books Ellison and Sarah discuss in introduction:
1861 by Adam Goodheart
All Our Wrong Todays by Elan Mastei
The Wanderers by Meg Howrey
The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton
Pure + The Crossing by Andrew Miller
Signals: New and Selected Stories by Tim Gautreaux
Lillian Boxfish Takes a Walk by Kathleen Rooney
*Green Chef is a USDA-certified organic meal kit delivery service that brings delicious dinners right to your doorstep. To get meals delivered and show your support for Another Mother Runner, go togreenchef.com/amr to get $50 off today.
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Be Bold for Change: Virtual 5K and 1 Mile Run
Mother Runners already know how important the female 51 percent of the world’s population is. All we need to do it take a look around at all of the vibrant, active, nurturing women around us. To say nothing of the vibrant, active, nurturing women we personally are.
But women’s contributions to the world are frequently underplayed, if not completely ignored. International Women’s Day on March 8 is a celebration of our social, economic, cultural, and political achievements as well as a call to action to accelerate gender parity.
Truth.
What better way to celebrate action than with a run? Gather up your running friends — female and male — to get your sweat on to #BeBoldFor Change, which is the highly hastag-able theme for 2017’s event. The first Women’s Day 5K and 1 mile run is a virtual race where half of proceeds and all donations will directly benefit Women for Women International.
We’ll be running, too, and want you on the team. Joining in couldn’t be easier. Pick a day and time March 4-8 when you want to get your run on. For a $15 donation, you’ll get a downloadable race bib to pin on. There’s also a medal package, with a race bib, bumper sticker, and bling.
Let there be bling.
Then lace up your kicks, hit the streets, trails, or treadmill, and snap some shots. Be sure to hashtag ’em with #womensday5K and #beboldforchange so that we can celebrate our contributions to the global community together.