thank god for my running buddy

if it wasn't for our 6am runs, I would probably sleep in. We say this to each other about every other time we meet to run. Both of us are moms, AM has three and I have 1....we both work so it is the dedication of each other that keeps us going. We actually made time to train for a local sprint triathlon this summer and compete in it. having access to this FREE site seemommyrun, is awesome! Because in the hustle and bustle of life, running can be alot easier, and fun with a buddy or buddies!!!
This is my first blog...I look forward to gabbing about the UPS and DOWNS of life, and running...literally!
as dorie from finding nemo might say " just keep running, just keep running, just keep running"!:)

chickenbus.

As all moms I finally decided that it was time to lose my swear words. My daughter is a late talker (she's practically an ASL interpreter with all the signing she does but that's an 'UhOh should I have done all those signs with her? will she be speaking by the time she goes to prom?" for another day) so thus far she isnt mimicking. But it's coming. And my dear sweet husband does not swear.

So the day the Toddler Tornado drops an f-bomb we'll all know from whence it came.

moi.

Hence the CHICKENBUS.


Todays chickenbus is brought to you by the fact Im really truly a newbie runner.
As in I dont. Yet.
Im a bodybuilder (natural. small. I often get "oh you must be a runner!" when people meet me.) and I love the endorphin rush I get from lifting & I love being strong.

and I love looking strong (*wink*)

However I am going to get into running.

They (the big they. in my first career I owned a personal training studio. so the THEY I was compelled to listen to) say that it's important to change up your cardio every few months.

Ive been doing the recumbent bike for 6 years.

Now you know why Im here.

can you say external accountability?

Brain vs. Legs: Game On!

Since yesterday was Wednesday, it was my "oh goodie! I get to run so I think I'll go out way to hard and to fast because I'm so happy to be running" day. As a result, my legs were very anti-run this morning. My brain, on the other hand, was all for it. And so the inner dialogue began. There is something about that first 1/4 mile or so when my legs are just screaming at me. The argument goes something like this: Legs - "What are you doing! Why did we leave that perfectly good hazelnut coffee and the couch? We were happy there! And there was a great article in the Style section just begging to be read!" Brain: "Zip it and keep moving. We are running today and you will like it!" And so it goes. On days like this, I like to trick my legs into going further. I play the 'just one more tree' game, as in "OK legs, see that tree up there? I bet you can't make it to that tree." and my legs, being the stubborn things that they are say "Oh yeah? Watch me!" and then just like that, I make it to the tree. I do this for as long as it takes. One tree at a time. Mile after mile. Today this game was very much in effect and I am happy to say that the brain was way ahead of the legs. Around mile 3, I see this woman walking with her dog coming toward me on the path. She is grinning ear to ear. As I get closer, I realize why this woman is so dang happy. She is walking with a venti frappuccino!!! A venti!!! At that moment, my legs and my brain both nearly came to a screeching halt. Legs: "Did you see that? Starbucks is closer than home! That could be our next tree!" Brain: "Hmmm...you make a good argument." But somehow, I managed to plow through and turned left instead of right which took me closer to home and further from the Starbucks. Game back on. I am happy to say that I added 1.5 miles to my run from yesterday and everyone is happy. My brain gets to brag and my legs got a banana and vanilla yogurt smoothie as a much better substitute for that 500 calorie frappuccino (yes, 500. I looked it up as soon as I got home).

Imposter

This too is my first Blog and after reading the others, I feel like a bit of an imposter. I've been with seemommyrun for more than two years and go nearly religiously....let's face it, it is cheaper than therapy and more sociably acceptable than a straight jacket. I was a walker through pregnacy and breastfeeding until I found "The Oprah Bra" to support my DD lactating boobs ( OK.....they were probably larger than DD, but I still squeezed those puppies into those bras because I didn't want to know what the next size was!!!) The thing is, with me, it is more more like.....see mommy pant, see mommy turn beet red, see mommy walk up the hills, see mommy sweat like a prostitute in church, and see mommy in last place AGAIN!! I am a Navy gal ( just reserves now) so have had to run for more than 20 years. During most of those years I belonged to the 3 mile club......that is 3 miles a year ( our tests our bi-annually at 1.5 miles each time). I admittedly don't LOVE to run but I do love this group, I do love the way I feel when I finish and I do love the Starbucks stop with my "real" runner friends. I honestly don't know what I'd do without them. Soooo next time you see a group of ladies running, wave to the the one bringing up the rear to encourage me......I mean her!

Motivation

My biggest challenge is motivation. This morning I woke up and my first thought was, 'Ugh! Today's a running day!' (I alternate weight training with running) Running days mean suiting up and getting out there and noting each muscle that is not performing up to optimal levels. (Upper inner thighs--hate it!)
But I did it and I do it because I want my kids to see me doing it...I want them to know that Mama's a badass. I want my daughter to aim for my standards and I want my son to look for my qualities in a partner.
And now, of course, I have this blog as a motivator. I feel connected now, not like it's me against the world anymore.
So, Run, Sisters, Run!

Confessions

1. I am not a fast runner (I’m 5’1” and all my height is in my torso – scary!).
2. I am trying to lose these final pregnancy pounds. (Ok – my twin girls are almost 5 – I don’t think I’m technically allowed to call them pregnancy pounds anymore – but just try and stop me!)
3. This is my first post on this fantastic site and I am thrilled to be a part of it.

I started running in high school. My dad was the track coach & football coach so I felt I needed to participate in one of those sports (don’t even get me started on the trauma I will tell Oprah ALL about regarding going to the same high school where my father taught and coached – HA!). Since my high school was completely against females playing football (they were just scared of our abilities – I’m sure of it), track was my choice. I was never very good – admittedly. I was too short and not fast at all, but I knew I would finish. I just told Coach to be sure they never started a new race without me coming in (I ran the 800m and the mile occasionally). I think I was only on the track team for one season and switched over to a sport that was a little more up my alley – cheerleading – but I have never lost my love of running. See I am a people person – the shining example of the word “extrovert”, but there is something about the solitude & serenity of running that appeals to me. And that is why I continue to do it. Just remember – don’t start another race without me finishing.

I'm in a Rush to Pace Myself

I am relatively new to running. I joined a boot camp with some friends back in April and as it turns out, that was the only kick in the rear I needed to get me moving. I was always an athletic kid. I played soccer for as long as I can remember, ran short distance track and could play football with the boys even when the ball had to be fetched out of the prickle bushes. I was a full on tomboy. I'm sure that is why I was blessed with two boys. Fate was kind to me and knew if I had a girly girl, I wouldn't have a clue what to do! After both of my pregnancies, I walked like mad and used exercise dvd's to get back into shape. I always thought that I'd like to try running but then the excuses would quickly follow. Things like "No way! You'll never go further than a block!" and "Don't do it! Think of your knees!" Eventually, I settled into a life of non-activity. That is, no activity unless it involved chasing after two kids, cleaning the bathrooms and doing massive amounts of laundry. Then last April happened. Boot camp happened. On the first day of the boot camp, our trainer had us run from the parking lot to a community center that was approximately 1/4 mile down the road. I got there but was panting so hard that I could hardly hear my friend say "what the heck are we doing here!?" At that moment, something clicked....or I freaked, whichever you prefer...and I decided that was it. I was going to do this running thing and I was never going to pant like that again! Needless to say, there was a lot of panting after that but I've stuck with it and have found something I truly love. I started out too hard and suffered a sprained ankle and achillies tendonitis in both ankles that had my butt on the couch and my feet elevated for over a month. But I got back out there and eventually got two 5k's and a 4-mile race under my belt. There is an 8k around the corner that I am hoping to complete as well. Running does something incredible for me. It magically erases any stresses of the day. It makes me feel like I can do anything and I truly believe that it makes me a better mommy. I love when my preschooler says, with a big smile, "so mommy, are you going to go for a little run today?" He knows what it does for me.

So what's the problem? The problem is time. Which I'm sure is the same problem that so many of you have. My youngest son goes to preschool on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday mornings. On those mornings, and typically one morning on the weekend, I get a quick run in. I drop him off, race home and get out there as quick as I can before I have to jump in the shower just in time to go pick him up again. All three days I do this and then nothing. Nothing other than strength training and dvd's until the next Wednesday. When that next Wednesday finally comes, I'm so excited to get out there that I run way too fast and typically burn out by mile 3.5. Every Wednesday is like starting from scratch. By the weekend run, I'm up to a comfortable 5.5 miles but I would really like to go further. So what is the secret? I'm sure there are a lot of you out there that have been where I am now and have found a way through it and increased your mileage so I'd love to hear your tips! Until then, I'm off to put my running shoes by the door so I can get out there again tomorrow.

I never quit before

Now that I have my first ever blog out of the way I can talk about running or I guess in this case not running the Marine Corps Marathon. This is the 3d time I've made the cut and had to back out. The first time I backed out I was pregnant. The second time I backed out I had gotten into the NY City Marathon and lived in NY so I ran that one. This time I have no excuse and it feels awful. I ran NY 9 months after my 3d child was born. I breastfed at the family reception area after a very long marathon (had to keep drinking at every station to make breast milk). I thought wow what a great way to get back in shape. None of my friends told me I was nuts so I thought it had to be ok. Soooo,, 4th child born last December and I signed up to run the Marine Corps. I pulled out Hal Higdon and started training, then stopped, then started and got up to a 12 mile long run before realizing I am out of my mind. I have two kids on select soccer teams, a busy 4 year old and an infant who really does not ask for much except to be fed and held, but I was jumping my mileage without putting the weekly runs in. My knees hurt. I've never ever had a running injury. I'm too slow for that. I weigh too much for this and I've got to call it quits. My friends and family could care less. I'm the only one crying for a lost marathon. I should go ahead and run a half marathon as I'm trained for that. Lost causes. I did love the two hours to myself for the weekly long runs. My husband will always help me run. I feel pressured to have a plan. What will I write in our Christmas letter?

This is a testblog...

although with my luck it will actually WORK and my blogmommyblog career shall be launched with a fizzle.

If, however, the blog-G-ds smile benevolently upon me then I shall be back.

Soon.

At some point here after I bathe my toddler tornado, motivate to shower, shave my legs and actually GO OUT (sans husband) and pretend Im a grown-up again.


For a few hours anyway...

How I Got Here

The local news had run a feature inviting girls from the area to submit applications as to why their mother should be Mom of the Year and, initially, I was very excited. Until, that is, I actually tried to think of reasons why my mother should be Mom of the Year.
In my eyes, a child's eyes, there was no doubt that she was Mom of the Year, but in society's eyes, well, I had to admit, she didn't have much to offer. The truth of it was, and is, that single mom's of three children whose kids go to school hungry and wearing the same clothes as they had worn the day before, aren't exactly Mom's of the Year. That mom's like mine, who opted out of meet the teacher night and who never baked cookies or accompanied the class on a field trip weren't the sort of mom's who earned honors.
The realization brought with it quite a bit of shame--shame for myself and shame for my mother. At that moment I knew that I wanted to be Mom of the Year. That when my time came, my child(ren) would have a Mom of the Year.
And here I am now! I won't lie. It's been a bumpy ride. Like water following a groove, I have been tempted by mediocrity and I've had to teach myself and learn by default many things that I think other kids were taught--I don't know. But I've also taught myself and learned by default many things that other kids weren't taught for the simple reason that they had a Mom of the Year and I'm pretty sure that's what the whole trip has been about.

Put on your running shoes, clothes....

Good Morning,

This is my first ever blog and I'm as nervous as a new bride. Ok, I was never nervous getting married, but it makes me laugh to write that. I'm Trice. I'm 43, and have 4 children. I have been in the Army and they make you run. Now I run because I love to run and it makes me a nicer person. My whole family knows that Mommy is so much nicer when she comes back from a run even if I was running in the rain, even if cars tried to run me over, even if it was only 30 minutes or 2 hours. They have also figured out that I'm a little less nice if I took a child in the running stroller and had to share the run. I've been the owner of at 7 running strollers over the past 12 years of Motherhood. I've run with two children in the heat of Texas in the double when my husband could not pinch hit. I've run in Germany in 1996 with one of the first Baby Joggers on a Volksmarch (10K) and had Germans chasing me down trying to buy my stroller. Now who would give up a stroller in the middle of a run? I've run on Normandy Beach commemorating D Day with both babies in a double. I'll keep this short today, but love to talk about running. I joined this blog to give my neighbors a break. They are tired of talking to me as I come in from a run and want to talk about running. My neighbor is running the Army Ten Miler this weekend. I signed up for it in 2001 and it was canceled after 9-11. I flew to DC and ran 10 miles by myself. I still have to get there for that race.

Yes, Ladies and Gentleman...

Mattel has yet another toy recall. Of course, they can't tell us which toys yet...have to wait for the press conference.

No Joke

A friend sent me one of those "true story" emails about toddlers getting drunk off of Purell. It appears to be true.

Don't Have The Time?

I read a tip in Working Mother magazine a couple of weeks ago. The tip was to squeeze in exercise whenever you can. I now do squats while I wait for my water bottle to fill. I do push-ups while I wait for Harry's "Mimo" in the microwave. I do sit-ups while Harry is on the potty. I just grape-vined up the stairs.
One of my first runs ever was a marathon (I did train for it, but I'd never done a 5K or a 10K or gone running on a track). After running a marathon at about age 25, a last minute 10K was no big deal...even when said 10K turned into a 10 miler! Well, times change. You do what you can to get by, and stay trim.
Since I work, I have real issues about taking even more time away from Harry. Now that he is 3, he does, too. Just ask me about the events leading up to him "zoom-zoom-ing" his cars during the ceremony at my sister-in-law's wedding. While I'd like to get out on a long run on Saturday, it's been easier for me to just lug my gym clothes along and hop out of the car on the way back from a meeting, or to run to the bank since with traffic as it is, it's quicker to run anyway.
I have also given up fast food. It's been almost 1 month. Instead of waiting in line at McDonald's, it is just as fast to get a bowl of Miso soup and seaweed salad from the Japanese Restaurant, or Harris Teeter, even.
I have gained ten pounds since December. I can't tell you yet that I have seen noticeable improvements, but I definitely have more strength and energy. And I even look forward to when Harry wants to sit on my shoulders during a two hour hike! I can tell you, I blew away my trainer at the gym today with my endurance for doing squats with a twenty pound bar on my shoulders. After all, I'm used to 34 pounds!

Tying My Shoes

Yesterday I enjoyed one of the most scenic marathons/half marathons in the country - the Charlottesville, VA half marathon. I hadn't really trained for it and almost didn't make it due to a sick child, but I got there and ran like the wind. This was my first race to run without my running buddies and buddy up with my ipod instead. The race was absolutely stunning, only about 1500 participants, and hilly as hell. Yes, there were some rolling hills. But there were also a couple of massive, lung-burning, calf-locking, thigh-screaming, vow-to-never-race-again HILLS. Runners were dropping like flies on these hills. Get the picture? I do tend to exaggerate a bit - but I swear these were difficult.

Back to the race...the race started at 6:30 a.m. I arrived too late the night before to pick up my packet early. So I needed to get there by 6am (cut off for packets). After arriving late to the hotel, staying up with a fussy baby, nursing several times through the night, I dragged my butt out of bed at red-eye 5am. Did I mention I also had a sick toddler with me? And guess what, I actually ran a good race! Yep - my pace was pretty spectacular in the scheme of things. Now...I hope you've all been able to experience that post-race glow when you know you ran well, overcame many challenges, and kicked some young girl butts! It is a great feeling that follows you for days! Even waking the next morning and realizing you can barely walk is a rush.

This morning as I limped out of bed I took a run down memory lane. Highlighs from some of the races I've donerun over the past 10 years were flashing through my mind. People I've met along the way, training partners, hills, bike rides, traveling for races, running with a hangover now and then.

And then I had a sad thought. I WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO WAKE UP, TIE MY SHOES, AND HEAD OUT THE DOOR FOR A RACE WITHOUT A TON OF RESPONSIBILITIES HITTING ME IN THE FACE AGAIN. Do you remember pre-kids when you could run anytime, anywhere, no worries, no cares, no breakfast to make, no nursing before you head out the door, no rushing home to take care of the family? I know all of the obstacles of motherhood make us stronger. But wouldn't it be nice to have just one day, one more race, one more post-race beer, one more weekend without thoughts of motherhood responsibilities ringing in your head?

Yet another whirlwind of emotions took over. The joy I feel when I see my smart, strong, happy daughters running around chasing each other. The sense of accomplishment I will feel for years and years as my daughters reach goals of their own.

And one day - maybe when I'm 60 - and my girls are away at college or spending a summer abroad I will wake up, tie my shoes, and hit a PR (personal record) in a race once again.

Mini Van Mama

I'm the hip chick that said, "I would NEVER drive one of those goofy looking mini vans. Those are for desperate housewives toting around snot-nosed brats." Keep in mind, that was me in my mid-twenties -- single and loving it. Not a care in the world. No intention of getting married much less having kids. My most important decisions those days were which bar would I visit that night and what would I wear. Or what would be my big splurge of the month - new kick-ass shoes or a mini vacation? I was nearly hitting a six-digit income and spending every penny frivolously on myself.

Fast forward to present day. Married, two kids, two car garage, house in the burbs. Getting dangerously close to turning 40. Temporarily (hopefully) hung up my power business suits. And just had baby #2. Whoa! Who is this chick? Did my mother take over my body?

To top it all off -- I just bought a mini van. Yep, you read it right. I, the mini-van-hating-mini-skirt-wearing-mama opted for a mini van. And I LOVE IT. It holds anything and everything, including my two fabulous children, their toys, jogging stroller, snacks, books...everything. We can even transport adults AND kids at the same time!

Now, buying a mini van did not happen without some self-inflicted blows to my ego. As soon as I drove the house-on-wheels off the lot I aged 20 years. Seriously, I looked in the rearview mirror and saw a billion wrinkles on my previously somewhat smooth face. And a gray hair was waving at me too (one of many)! The next day I went on a teen-inspired t-shirt shopping spree. I bought a few concert shirts, skull-and-crossbone shirts, cool headbands, and a box of haircolor. I even ordered a microdermabrasion kit from a Susan Lucci (All My Children) infomercial. My thought process was this...if I had to get out of a mini van dragging two kids behind me, at least I could look somewhat cool doing it (or look like a young mom). A friend even sent my 2-year old daughter a couple of concert shirts so we could look hip together!

Why do I care? I really don't. I mean, I'm trying not to dwell on aging and fret about every tiny detail (sagging skin, weakening bones, dwindling energy, varicose veins). But we all want to age gracefully in the back of our minds - admit it. But most of all I think I just want to be a somewhat "hip mom" to my daughter's friends. Someone they feel comfortable coming to when they need advice. Someone they WANT to spend time with and don't feel embarrassed to be around. Someone to coach their soccer teams and drive them to state championships. Their dance partner in the living room! Someone to share their dreams and secrets.

I consider buying the mini van "taking one for the team!"
And, NO, it isn't one with DVD players and auto everything. I tried very hard to control myself!

By the way, my dear husband gave up his speedy Volkswagen Jetta to gift me with the van. Now THAT is what I call love.

Marathon Mom

Let me say this off the bat: I completely brought this upon myself. I have no one I can blame. I placed the curse upon myself.

I had the gall--the gall, I say!--to think to myself, "Wow, after the last action-packed marathon, this marathon will really give me nothing to blog about. I know all the ins and outs of the marathon. I know the tricks. I'm fully prepared. I'll have nothing to write but, 'I ran my second marathon and I had a time of XXX.'"

Which is how I jinxed this marathon.

Let's start with the sinus infection. I was feeling probably 80 percent better. But that didn't bother me as much as the words of my doctor, which kept running through my head. "You may not feel healthy enough to run. You may not feel healthy enough to run. You may not feel healthy enough to run." The power of positive thinking right? Yeah, right.

Then there was the missing registration card. The ING site said, "All U.S. registration cards will be mailed the week of Oct. 13." So I waited. And waited. No card. Where is my card? The card that is essential for getting my race number at the expo? No card. Then, the week before the race, an e-mail arrived that read, "If you didn't get your registration card in the mail, you can use this e-mail," which leads me to believe they didn't mail all the cards out. Okay, that's all right. Taken care of.

Then I called the hotel to confirm our reservation. Oh, they had it all right. For twice as long as we had intended on staying. Thank goodness I called because they had us down as arriving on Thursday. Can you imagine how thrilled I would have been had I shown up on Friday only to find that they not only charged my credit card the $358 for Thursday night but had since given away our room?

I printed out my registration card and took a good look at it for the first time. There I was. Yep. There's my name. That's my age. It's me. But wait? No bus pass? I know I signed up for a bus pass as it's the only reasonable way to get to the start line! What a pain in the neck. I've got to make sure to remember to buy a bus pass at the expo instead of nicely and conveniently having it printed on my bib number.

I know, I know. You're thinking, "This really isn't all that big a deal. You were stressing over nothing." Which would be true if it weren't for the final thing. The ultimate jinx. The voice-from-above "I gave you plenty of signs you shouldn't run and yet you ignore me" jinx.

I took a closer look at my registration card. I noted my bib number. Last time I ran my bib number was 47474. A nice high number because I had put down a very slow predicted race time. No biggie. But this time my race number is W409. That's odd. Did they change the numbering schematic? And then I look one more time. There it is on the side, in all caps. "WHEELCHAIR START." Um, hello? HELLO!!!! I DON'T THINK SO!

While it certainly provided much fodder for the household banter ("Do we have plans for next Wednesday? I want to go out for dinner with a friend." "Well, I suppose it's okay. I'm sure I'll have managed to navigate bathtime in the wheelchair by then"), it turned me into a stress monkey. Which in a way was good, because I wasn't stressing about the race itself. I found myself being extra careful when I ran because I was convinced I was going to break a limb. (Again, the voice from above: "You wanted a wheelchair start? Well, I'll give you a wheelchair start!") My husband was convinced it was no big deal and they'd fix it at the expo but I was pretty sure they were just making me go to the help desk to publicly humiliate me and strip me of my running shoes.

As it turns out I was right in the first place: there really isn't much to blog about the marathon. My sister was correct when she told me, "All those jinxes were good! You got all the bad stuff out of the way and now you can run a great marathon!"

The trip to New York was hunky dory. The kids were well behaved and, except for that smell that began to seep out of Pie's diaper around New Rochelle, the trip was uneventful. We gave a ride to another runner, and Adam dropped the two of us at the Expo center on our way into town Friday evening. What a difference a day makes. Whereas last time, when I went on Saturday, the lines snaked out of the building, on Friday evening we walked right in. I went to the "Solutions Desk," and they did indeed solution my wheelchair problem. Hallelujah! It's a miracle! I can walk again! In fact, I ended up with a lower number (when I signed up, I think I predicted at 4:45 or 5 hour marathon and I knew I could do much better than that) and she asked me which color I'd like to start with. I didn't have a preference and she said, "I'll give you blue. That's a good one--you start on top of the bridge." And then she gave me a bus pass! How sweet was that? I was able to actually enjoy the rest of the Expo.

And then: Sunday. I woke a zillion times in the night (didn't help that Doodles was crammed between me and Adam, with his little head shoved into my side and his feet under Adam) and I finally got up at 4:55 a.m., five minutes before the alarm. I got dressed and headed to meet my friend to hop the bus to the start. This is definitely the most tedious part of the marathon--just waiting for the start. We took a 5:30 bus but the marathon didn't start till 10:10. The sun was just starting to come up when we got off the bus at the start in Staten Island. We had to split up, because she had a seeded number (she told me later that she got distracted at the start, because she looked up and over to the other side of the bridge, and there was Lance).

So I waited. And waited. And waited. Used the portapotty a bunch. Got some Tylenol. Drank a lot of tea. Jumped up and down trying to keep warm. Had a little massage. And I waited. And waited. Finally it was time to line up. We started to move up before the gun went off and sure enough the bathrooms emptied out. I was actually able to run in and be out in time to hear the starting gun. With my "low" number (if 30012 can really be considered low), it only took me ten minutes to cross the starting line. I decided to hang out with the 4:30 pace group. I really had no idea what my speed would be--hard to tell in training what you can reasonable sustain over 4 1/2 to 5 hours. My goal was a 4:45 marathon. My stretch goal was a 4:30 marathon. My don't-admit-it-to-anyone-but-what-I'm-really-hoping-for goal was a 4:22 marathon.

I kept with the pace group in the beginning, but realized I found it distracting. I wasn't paying as much attention to the crowds and the music and the scenery because I was so focused on keeping up with the group. I also found the run to be much, much denser this time, and I exerted way too much energy weaving in and out and around people. It was a tad claustrophobic. I made friends with another woman, Kelly, and we chatted and ran together for a while, but I soon discovered if I ran just in front of the pace group, it was a little less crowded.

My first goal was my family at mile 11. Unfortunately I didn't know which side of the street they'd be on, so I slowed down from the pace group so I could get a good look. My right knee started to bother me, but I decided to ignore it. At about 11 1/2 miles I spotted them. Doodles was day dreaming and even though I screamed his name about 12 times, he barely saw me. Pie was asleep in Adam's backpack. And I just kept running. At this point, the miles were coming fast and furious, just melting away. But about halfway over the Queensboro Bridge, my knee really started to bother me, to the point where I feared I might have to drop out. I considered stopping at a medical tent, but told myself I'd go just a little farther and think about stopping at the next one. I started to walk through the water stops, and that helped considerably. By this time the pace team was ahead of me, but I just kept a steady pace and around mile 18 or so, I had caught up, and by mile 19, they were definitely behind me. At mile 20, my sister was waiting for me with a friend. "My knee hurts!" I told her. She replied, "Just keep going! Keep running!" so I did.

Around this point, I was relieved that I had broken through the wall. I knew I was going to have the energy to sustain me to the end, as long as my knee held out. But this is also the point where each mile doubles in length. The miles were no longer melting away, but sloooooooooowly stretchhhhhhing ooooooouuuuutttt. I had to resist the urge to run faster, because five miles after 21 miles is still a long way to go. So I just kept a steady pace.

Once I hit 23 miles, I knew I'd make it even if I had to crawl across the finish line, so I let myself speed up a little. I would have liked to have sped up even more, but there were still so many runners on the course that it was difficult to navigate around them. I still walked at water stations--even at mile 25 (didn't want to collapse because of my knee in mile 26)--but I felt great. I powered through the end, feeling like a champ. Adam and the Pie were apparently at the end, at 250 yards, but I didn't even notice them, I was so in the zone. I flew through the finish line, clocking in at 4:25:07. Despite being three minutes off my dream goal, I was exceedingly pleased (remember, my only other marathon was a 5:19 marathon!). I feel confident that given a flatter, less crowded course, I could do it.

After the race, I gathered with my family and a close friend at my parents' place for pizza and wine. The next day I got my medal engraved, bought a finisher's shirt, and spent the morning at the Central Park Zoo. The ride back was fine except that the Pie was finished with it about 45 minutes before we were finished with it, which made for a painfully loud experience.

As far as body woes, my knee now seems to be fine. I have one very, very ugly toe (I tried to take a picture of it for all of you, but you can be grateful that it didn't come out well enough to really appreciate the black, bloody, bruised thing that it is) but I'm itching to get back out there.

So now? Now it's time to 1) recover and then 2) get back into training. After all, it's only two months, one week, and six days until the Miami Marathon! 4:22, here I come!

Just like Lewis & Clark

One of the things I like best about being a runner is exploring a new city on foot. Unfortunately, when I'm not training for a race, this luxury goes by the wayside. However, this summer's marathon training got me out for a fantastic long run on a recent trip to Louisville.

The Louisville Riverwalk runs 6.3 miles from downtown Louisville to Shawnee Park on the city's West End. The trail runs adjacent to the river for a bit, and then passes by working railroad tracks, through wooded areas, past parks and a golf course, and eventually ends up at Shawnee Park (which itself has a 1.3 mile running loop around its grounds). Along the path are various lists of river-related trivia embedded in the asphalt, which help take a runners' mind off the many miles stretching out before her. I wound up running just under 16 miles in perfect weather.

What struck me the most was that is was not very crowded, unlike the trails here in the D.C. area. On the way out, I could count on one hand the number of people I saw along the trail (which was, quite frankly, a little unnerving for a female running along). And, of the runners I saw along the trail, there were no other women. It wasn't until I got to Shawnee Park that I saw a woman running (with a male running partner). She caught sight of me, and began clapping, saying, "Yeah! A woman running! I like to see that!" It made me wonder if it was such an odd sight for a woman to be running in Lousiville.

Fortunately, on my way back towards downtown, I saw several female runners. I think most of them were with the Leukemia Society Team in Training group, but it was good to see them out there nonetheless.

All in all, it was a fantastic place for a run, and it cemented my love of running in Louisville (the scenic loop in Cherokee Park is a close second). However, it also made me grateful for the strength and diversity of the running community here in D.C.

Practice Makes Perfect

It's interesting- the more you run, the better you become at it, as is the case with most things. But with Pilates, the more you do it, the harder it gets. Therin lies the paradox (has anyone read Prep? I've been looking for a reason to use that last line. Need to remove it from my head and pass it on to you).
I guess the thing is, when you do Pilates, you learn how to do it better, and you focus on different things. You learn new skills so that you advance. Hmmmm...
I've been telling Harry lately that the more he practices something, the better he will get. Usually he believes everything I say. If he doesn't, he matter-of-factly says "Mommy Do It." He doesn't get hung up on the fact that he can't, say, wipe his face with a napkin (even though he can). But, Harry does get excited when he perseveres and succeeds. "I did it!" he says with a sparkle in his eye.
I suppose, as with Pilates, life will get harder. I was thinking Pilates was the exception to the rule, but I suppose not. I just never thought about it.
While watching a Baby Einstein DVD a few years ago, I realized a Solar System is named such because the planets revolved around the sun. My brother-in-law, a science teacher, was appalled that I didn't already know this. Perhaps I did, but it doesn't come up in my day to day pharmaceutical research.
Another thing I learned today, while watching Franklin, is that sometimes people get mad at you, but that doesn't mean they like you any less. I'll ignore the fact that this may indeed change as we age. I will pretend that it is true: everything we need to know in life, we learned in kindergarten.

And Already It Begins...

I get Doodles out of the house and to Target by telling him he can pick out a new lunch box that he’ll take with him to preschool. He’s psyched for the idea, and all the while I’m shopping, he’s asking, “Where are the lunch boxes? Can I get my lunch box now?” I say we’ll get there soon and I remind him that Sweetie Pie will need a lunch box too for the Tiny Tot room. “Can I pick out her lunch box?” I shrug, and say, “Sure!” Sweetie Pie is babbling away in my mei tai carrier and doesn’t seem to mind the idea.

So, we make our way over the lunch box aisle finally, and they have *the* cutest dinosaur lunch boxes. I quickly move Doodles past the Spiderman, Batman, and the like lunch boxes.

Me: Wow! Look at this! Are these the coolest lunch boxes or what?
Doodles: They’re dinosaurs!
Me: They are dinosaurs!
Doodles: I want a dinosaur lunch box!
Me: I think that’s a fabulous idea. Would you like the orange one or the green one?
Doodles: Um, the orange one.
I pull the orange one over.
Me: Look! Do you see what kind of dinosaur it is?
Doodles: Is it a triceratops?
Me: Yes, it is! That’s very good, Doodles.
Doodles: I want to pick Sweetie Pie’s lunch box.
Me: Great idea. Do you think Sweetie Pie would like the green dinosaur?
Doodles wrinkles his face in distaste.
Doodles: No. Sweetie Pie wants the Hello Kitty lunchbox.
Let me interject here and ask: How the hell does my son know what Hello Kitty is!!?!! Okay, back to our story:
Me: I really think Sweetie Pie would like the green dinosaur.
Doodles: No, the Hello Kitty lunch box.
Me: I think the green dinosaur is the baby sister dinosaur. Don’t you think Sweetie Pie should have the baby sister dinosaur?
Doodles starts getting upset: The Hello Kitty lunch box!
Me: I have an idea! Why don’t we get you the Hello Kitty lunchbox and we’ll get Sweetie Pie the dinosaur lunch box!
Doodles: No, I want the dinosaur. Sweetie Pie wants Hello Kitty.

Now I’m debating with myself. Do I get the Hello Kitty like he asks for? (I can't find the lunch box online, but it looks almost like this.) After all, I did say he could pick out her lunch box. Or do I override him and get her the green dinosaur? I even contemplate buying both the green dinosaur and the Hello Kitty and then secretly returning the Hello Kitty when Doodles’s forgotten about it. Then I have an idea. After all, Sweetie Pie has my genes, right?

Me: I know! Let’s let Sweetie Pie decide!
Sweetie Pie is happily reaching for everything from inside my mei tai.
I hold up the dinosaur.
Me: Sweetie Pie! [lots of cheer in my voice] Do you want the neat green dinosaur!!
I hold up Hello Kitty.
Me: [voice goes lower] Or do you want this one?
Sweetie Pie looks at both. Her eyes start to sparkle and she gives a big smile.
Me: Look! Sweetie Pie wants the dinosaur! Here Sweetie Pie!
At which point Sweetie Pie squeals loudly with disgust, bats her hand out until it makes contact with the dinosaur, throwing it down on the ground, and grabs the Hello Kitty lunch box with both hand, cackling with delight.
Sweetie Pie: Eee! Eee! Eee!

I buy one dinosaur lunch box and one Hello Kitty lunchbox.

I’m a failure as a feminist mother. They’re going to take away my feminist credentials. Might as well buy those Barbies now and get it over with.