Dad

So, on this the day where we celebrate Dad, I reflect on the things that my dad taught me.

1) Helping your daughter with Algebra is not an easy thing. Growing up, I did not necessarily think that my dad was super great with helping me with homework. Sometimes things got, well, tense. This year, though, I had the privelage of helping my daughter with her algebra. Within 5 minutes of "helping" her, I realized that my dad was, in fact, a saint. The fact that I made it through the Algebra sessions in tact prove that. I had to turn those duties over to Rob.

2) If you don't ask for what you want you have a 0% chance of getting it. If you ask for what you want, you have at least a 50% chance of getting it. Simply asking improves the odds greatly. I use this all of the time. Great, great advice. I'm sure my dad wouldn't mind if you felt free to borrow it too! :)

3) I have a tendancy to shoot my mouth off. I think I got that from my dad. I remember him telling me a story of when he got pulled over for speeding telling the cop that since he was speeding, he was obviously in a hurry, so could he please get on with it. Is it any wonder then, that I once got several detentions for telling a nun that a striped shirt was really a solid colored shirt. *Points at one stripe* "This is a solid color" *Points at 2nd stripe* "And this is a solid color". The good news is, my dad is getting better at holding his tongue. Like when I told him I was pregnant with Hayleigh...he just walked calmly out to the mailbox. See, there's hope for me yet!

4) Speaking of hope, my dad has taught me that it is never too late to get in shape. He didn't really begin running and being in shape until his 40s. So, when I lug my overweight body to the gym to work out and I say no to the food I really want, I think of my dad. If he can break the cycle in his 40s, so can I.

5) Life is short. Have fun. My dad is the kind of guy who runs a marathon for his 60th birthday, buys a Harley when he's 62 and buys my mom a BMW convertible....just because. He's the kind of guy that has fun dancing to Salsa music in the Dominican Republic or drinking a beer at the Hofbrau. He pretty much is the life of the party. Why would anyone want to spend this short life we have being miserable anyways?

That's just a few. There are many, many more. So, thanks for everything Dad! I lvoe you <3

Parenting in the Gray Areas

Confession: Most of the time I feel like I am totally winging it.

This week what has me particularly confused is what is acceptable and what is unacceptable when it comes to middle school boys and girls interacting together. It's no surprise, given that I have 3 almost 14-year-olds in the house that this issue would come up. Although it's always come up. I have boys and girl that are the same age. ALL of their parties have had boys and girls. ALL of their outings have had boys and girls. And, mostly, I have to say that I view taking an interest in the opposite sex as a good thing. It is, if you look on developmental charts, an actual developmental milestone. Like walking, or saying two letter sentences, or learning to go potty on the potty (by the way, watch for my next post on potty regression...grrrr!) I wouldn't stop my kids from learning how to read when they were ready, so why on earth would I [try to] stop them from taking an interest in the opposite sex when they were ready. To be sure it is alot like giving a toddler a loaded gun, which is where the gray areas come in. How do I allow my kids the space to grow up but still keep a tight enough rein so they aren't put in situations where they won't be able to make good choices?

Take this weekend as a for instance:

On Friday, Jonathan and Trisha went to the movies with a mixed group of friends. On Sunday, Jonathan and Trisha went bowling with a mixed group that included their "boyfriend" and "girlfriend". To be honest, there was very little difference between the two outings. Both included rowdy boys and rowdy girls. Both included lots of hugging and flirting. Both included me creeping in the background (or the foreground...whatever...) If I put up video of the two nights and asked you to pick which one included the "boyfriend" or "girlfriend", I think you wouldn't be able to. So, how can I say it's OK to go out with friends but not OK to go out with a "boyfriend"? Either way I am creeping in the background (or the foreground...whatver...) And, to be frank, I feel much better about this sort of situation than I will about some loser who can't wait to get his hands on my daughter, picking her up in his car and driving away without me coming along! At least this gives me SOME opportunity to see how they handle themselves and some opportunity to provide feedback.

Here's what I have figured out on the topic:

1) It doesn't matter what my pastor, best friend, or mom does. No one has raised my kids and Rob and I have to make the decisions regarding what works best for them.


2) Acceptable: boys and girls coming over to my house and playing outside with constant adult supervision. Unacceptable: Boys and girls being up in a bedroom together with the door closed.

Pretty much I'm still trying to figure out everything else in between.

Hollister ~ A Metaphor for Life

This past weekend I spent some time doing I something I tend to do often-shopping. And, it seems more often than not, whenever I go shopping I end up at Hollister.

If you've never been to Hollister, let me tell you about it. It's dark. And, by dark I mean that it is hard for me to read the size labels and the price tags. It smells overwhelmingly like cologne. And, by it smells, I mean I need to dose up on Zyrtec before I go in there. It has really, really loud music. And, by really, really loud music, I mean like what it sounds like in my car when Jessie's Girl comes on the radio. And, it has pictures of scantily clad men and women on the walls. And by pictures of scantily clad people, I mean...well, I bet you know what I mean.

The first time I went to Hollister, I swear I had never felt so old in my life. In fact, I'm pretty sure that those things are probably well researched tactics to get moms to spend money. I don't really care what Trisha picks out. And, If I could see the price tags, I wouldn't really care what things cost, just get me out of this loud, stinky place. I thought no place could be worse than Hollister. Then, I went to The Children's Place.

Suddenly Hollister wasn't so bad.

I mean at Hollister, the loud music drowns out any whiny children that might be there. At Hollister, there are chairs you can sit in while the people you are with shop. At Hollister, no one asks me if I want to give my email for coupons, my phone number for mailings. No one asks me if I want to open a credit card or take a survey. They just ring up my stuff and let me pay and leave.

And, isn't that kinda just like life.

Sometimes it's smelly. Sometimes it's loud. Sometimes it's dark. And if I focus on that, life doesn't seem like a great place. But, if I focus on the good things about life, it makes it seem a whole lot better.

Ah...gee, thanks, Hollister!

Things I learned from Mom

I think there are phases in a mother-daughter relationship. Right? I mean when you're little, your mom is your everything. And, then you get a little older, like maybe 13 or 14, and your mom magically become some sort of idiot with whom you have to endure. Then you become a young adult and you start to sort of pick at everything she did and imagine how you are going to do everything different.

Finally, one day, you become a mom yourself and you realize just what it is exactly that your mom did for you, how much she loves you and you finally understand the sacrifices she made. So, today, I have a list of things I learned from my mom. Of course, this is in no way an exhaustive list...just what I am thinking of today.

1. Linda will cringe, but I learned it's important to be involved in your children's lives. My mom was picture lady, PTA president, girl scout leader, team mom, and party organizer for us.

2. A glass of wine after a long day can really be a lovely way to have a more relaxed evening :)

3. Spend money on things that allow you to have fun with the people you love. Whether it's the extra room in the condo every year in Florida so people can visit, or buying a house with a big enough back yard so that every one in the family can play, she never skimps when it comes to having fun with loved ones.

4. A woman can be a great mom whether she stays home full time or whether she works outside the home. My mom did both throughout the course of my life. It taught me that either choice is good. It also taught me that it's OK to want and need stimulation from a job outside of the home.

5. The value of a person is not in how they look, but in who they are. As a girl who has struggled with her weight all.of.her.life., my mom has had to tell me over and over and over again that beauty is not what you look like, it's who you are. I needed that reminder again just a few months ago. I guess I still need my mom :)

6. If someone in your family needs you, then you are there. No questions asked. There has never been a time that I needed my mom and she wasn't there. When I was getting married and was about to walk down the aisle, she was the first who stood up. When the triplets were born, I came out of post-op and she was the first face I saw. When Jaden had multiple, unplanned surgeries, she's been there. I don't think she's missed a single funeral or graduation party or wedding of anyone in our large extended family. Being a part of a family means being there. Period.

There are many, many more of course. This is just a few.

So, mom, I hope Dad and T'Rone spoil you today...you deserve it. Thanks the blood, sweat and tears you've invested into my life. I love you!

Did you just say stupid? Oh no you didn't!

Hayleigh said the word "stupid" yesterday. It's true. She has older siblings. You know those kids with the "older siblings" ~ always way ahead of their time! I have to admit though, I am a little confused on how to react.

With the older kids, there was NO saying stupid. There was no saying shut up. One of the kids dropped an I-bomb (idiot) once and was chewing on a bar of soap faster than you could say, "Holy Overreaction, Batman!" Those, my friends, were very, very bad words.

Then they went to school.

I think we were about oh, 3 days into Kindergarten before someone called Trisha stupid. She was shocked that such foul language was allowed in this institution of learning and she was shocked that someone would direct that sort of foul language at her. And, she was shocked that no one in charge really seemed to care. To this day, Trisha does not like that girl. When I ask her why she doesn't hang out with her, Trisha will say, "remember, she called my stupid in Kindergarten." Never mind she's been called much worse by people she still hangs around. That's HOW shocking it was!

Then there was what we will refer to as "The Middle Finger Incident".

Another student told Trisha and Jonathan that they could not stick up their middle finger. Not knowing there was anything wrong with that and thinking this was purely a challenge of physical aptitude, Trisha and Jonathan gave this student ye ole double bird and said with pride, "See! Yes we can!". Just when they were marvelling at their feat of physical aptitude, just when they were thinking they were magical...maybe even biwinning...the bus driver looked up to see why everyone was gasping. And, well, I am sure you can imagine the rest of the story.

All this to say sometimes I wonder if I adequately prepared my children for the world. I wonder if teaching them not to use foul language, to be kind, to let others be first, to not promote yourself, to not tear others down...I wonder sometimes if that put them at a disadvantage. The world is a cruel game. School is, often times, a cruel game. How do I teach my children to be both a kind, caring, moral person, and still make sure they have enough chutzpah to survive? Maybe saying something is stupid isn't the end of the world.

Of course, maybe it is. What do I know? I am just the I**** mom who is STILL trying to figure it all out!

How on Earth did I, er I mean Jaden get a D?

For those of you who were not aware, this past school year I have been homeschooling Jaden. Really, I have been cyber-schooling him. Either way...not for me. Not at all.

Take Algebra for instance.

In college I majored in journalism. This is not because I enjoyed writing, or really even reading for that matter. I didn't want to work for a paper. It wasn't even because a cute boy was a journalism major. At least THAT would have been understandable. I chose journalism because after scouring the course book, it was the ONLY major at Michigan State that did not have a math requirement. And, that was good, because I had already failed algebra. Twice.

So, when Jaden started having trouble finding the area and volume of three dimensional figures, I was panicked. But, surely, college was like what? 5 years ago. (Okay! Fine, fine almost 20, whatever) I am a mature, capable woman. I can learn about and then teach Jaden how to find the area and volume of three dimensional figures. Right?

WRONG!

Jaden and I worked on a portfolio project. I was sure we were going to ace it. And, then the grade came back: D. I was quite offended. I almost called the teacher to demand an explanation. Apparently, not much has changed since college. Well, I mean except for the extra weight...and the wrinkles...and the gray hairs...and the not being able to go out until 2am and get up at 9:00 for work or classes. I still can't get above a D in algebra. Darn you, algebra!

At any rate, I have now appointed Jonathan as Jaden's learning coach. He can figure out the area and volume of three dimensional figures in like pi*.04=x seconds.

Talk about depressing...

Today I did something that made me very sad. I'll give you three guesses what it was.

No...no. It wasn't trying to pluck all of the gray hairs out of my head even though I just died it last week.

Nopers. It was not trying on swim suits. Really good guess, though.

No. It defintely was not listening to Dream On. Although, please, I never knew that song was so depressing. 'Everytime when I look in the mirror, all these lines on my face getting clearer'. It's a real pick-me-up.

Ok. I'll tell you.

I took lunch to Jonathan while he was reffing U8 soccer games. {{{SIGH}}}. I can barely speak about it.

Used to be every Saturday, I would pack the ole sports chairs, blankets, water bottles, siblings, orange slices, sports drinks, and snacks for after the games to go catch me some soccer. Used to be every Saturday I would sit in a sports chair, cheer on my soccer player, laugh with other soccer moms and dads and get frustrated with the teenaged ref who looked like he didn't get too much sleep the night before. (Where were his parents, BTW). Used to be I could walk through the soccer complex and know just about everyone there.

Used to be. The past is gone.

It's been 5 years since Jonathan played U8 soccer. Now I am the mom of the teenage ref who didn't get enough sleep the night before. Now I walk through the soccer complex and I don't know anyone. 5 years . Gone in a flash. I know it's a tired cliche. But, time goes by fast. And, today, well, it caught me off guard.

Especially because I got to thinking...you know what I will be doing 5 years from now? I'll be buying prom attire, and paying registration fees for college, and planning a graduation party for the triplets. 5 years. They'll be gone in a flash.

I want to make sure I have no regrets.

BTW, 5 years gives me some perspective too. So, moms and dads of the U8 soccer players...don't take it so seriously. I know you think you might have the next Mia Hamm or David Beckham. But, I sure wish I had spent less time worrying about Jonathan's playing time, positions, and coaches and more time just plain old cheering him on.

Oh, and one more thing. That tired teenaged ref?? Yeah, the one who had a sleepover last night and was too tired to blow his whistle for the hand ball in the goalie box that should have been a penalty kick? Give him a break too. Because before you can even imagine it could be possible, it'll be your kid. And, you'll be the parent standing awkwardly with the McDonald's bag in your hand.

Wonder of Wonders...It's Maturation Day!

WARNING: THIS BLOG POST HAS BEEN GIVEN A PG-13 RATING.

BACKGROUND INFORMATION: In my state, children in public school get to take a 2 part sex-ed class in the 5th grade. Part One is the Maturation class, where they get to watch weird videos about puberty and body changes. Part Two, entitled "Wonder of Wonders" or "WOW", for short, talks about sexual reproduction. And, yes. It's really called WOW!

MORE BACKGROUND INFORMATION: Here in Kiddyland, we feel its important for our children to attend these classes, but we also feel its important that we have "THE TALK" before they hear it at school. The parents of Kiddyland will be the ones who drive these conversations, thank you very much.

So, last week I received a letter that Ryan's sex ed classes were going to begin this week. I sent Rob an email that said something along the lines of "You've got 5 days, sucker!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAA!". Because don't most modern, happy marriages communicate almost exclusively through email. They do, right?

Sunday night, Rob came home from a meeting and told Ryan to get dressed, they were heading to Sarris'. Which frankly, I thought was a brilliant choice for two reasons. 1) Sex is awkward, and let's face it when something is awkward, it's good to have ice cream on hand. It's sort of my life motto. 2) Sarris is expensive. I am pretty sure Ryan will never think of Sarris in quite the same way again. Ryan: "Mom, can we go to Sarris? (has mental flashback of last time there...) Nevermind!" A genius money saving idea!

Rob and I both read all of the books on how to present this, er, topic to kids and they really all sort of creeped us out. So, we just choose to spit it out. Just spit.it.all.out. I didn't heaar how Ryan replied, they got home late. And, I'm pretty sure he was a little more "in the know" than the older kids at that age. It just happens with younger siblings. I'm glad we have the classes at school for followup because I am sure out of embarassment and , well, pure horror, Ryan checked out at some point and didn't catch everything. The classes will fill in some holes.

As for Rob, all I know is he came home and said: "hahahaha. I'm all done and you have one more!!". Because all modern, happy marriages include enjoying the other person's awkward moments. They do, right?

Don't Hate Me Because I am Beautiful

Hayleigh loves to dress up. I love to oblige her. So, I spotted just the cutest.outfit.ever. at Crazy 8 and since I had a coupon (Did you hear that honey? I had a couponn!) I went for it. It was a cute little yellow sweater, a little denim skirt, the world's cutest tights with yellow suns on it, black patent leathers and a matching bow.

Hayleigh couldn't wait to show off her new duds at "school" aka daycare.

(I'll pause to wait for all of the gasps to subside at the mention of the "d" word)

Moving on...

She walked into daycare and all of her little girlfriends ran up to her saying "Hayleigh I love your clothes", "Hayleigh you look so cute." "Hayleigh your shirt is so cute". I can see that Hayleigh is getting upset. So upset in fact, that she had moved her hand to her hip and was stomping her foot. One little girl ran up to give her a hug and said "Hayleigh you are so cute". For reasons I could not understand at the time, Hayleigh pulled away, stomped her foot and yelled "I am not cute!" Then she ran over to me and buried my head in to my leg.

I wasn't sure what was happening so I bent down and asked her, "Hayleigh what's wrong?"

"I'm not cute, mommy, I beautial!"

For a split second all I could think was how sad her life is going to be if she gets upset about compliments that aren't quite up to her standards. Or, how tough life is going to be if she goes around demanding that girls call her beautiful. But, I figure, three is a little young for me to sit her down and explain in great depth the intracies of girl politics. Plenty of time for those sorts of talks.

So, instead I looked her square in the eye, smoothes her hair, and said, "Yep, Baby, you're beautial". To which came the quick reply:

"Yes. But I not a baby!"

Staches and Stumes

So, lately it would seem like most of my weekends are spent with teenagers. One of the kids usually wants me to take them somewhere or another with their friends. And, here comes a deep confession (shhhh....just between me and you...don't tell anyone) ... I actually enjoy it. It's God's little surprise to me, really. I didn't think I would enjoy teenagers, especially middle schoolers. My own middle school experience, well, sucked. But, I love my weekends with kids and their friends.

Take this weekend for example.

Friday night Trisha and a friend went to the movies. I have begun letting them go into the theater by themselves, which was a big milestone to be sure. When they came out, they were giggling and covering their mouths with their hands because, afterall, they were wering moustaches. "Mom. Will you take us to McDonald's even if we wear these in?" HA! I will not embarass so easily, I thought. "I will only take you to McDonald's IF you wear them in."

Most weekends, something similar to this happens. It's like, let's see what we can do that will embarass your mom. If I don't embarass right away, it's like they need to amp up the embarassment. Either by playing on the play center or saying hi to random people who then try to figure out where they know me from, stuff like that. So, really, walking into McDonald's with two girls with moustaches was no big deal. Child's play, really. I only had to wonder what else they might attempt to be random and embarassing.

Not Friday night though. No sir. Because on this night, the gods were smiling on moms all over the world.

The girls were up ordering their shakes when I saw them walking across the parking lot. By them, I mean boys. Three boys. Three cute boys. Oh, I suppose I could've gone up and warned the girls they were coming, but what fun would that have been? The boys saw the girls and and the girls saw the boys and off went the moustaches. So predictable and so funny. Apparently, cute boys are the STILL the antidote to random silliness. Imagine that.

I can hardly wait for next weekend's adventures. I heard something about Walmart and Stumes (or costumes for those of us over the age of 35).

Race Day

That's my dad and I getting ready for our big race.

In some ways, it went better than expected. In some ways it went worse.

There are lots of informational articles on runnersworld.com about race strategy and what to do or not do to your best on a race. If I had to sum them up, their tips would be:

1) Don't overeat the night before. Eat a small breakfast about an hour before the race.

2) Get a good night's sleep the night before the race.

3) Whatever you do...DO NOT start off the race too fast. Make sure you pace yourself.

Out of those three tips, I pretty much accomplished....ZERO! I didn't eat any breakfast since I was too afraid of feeling nauseous. Thanks to the Sweet Adelines (think really loud ladies who like to sing and laugh and whoop all night long) I did not get any sleep. And, I don't know, maybe it was the energy jelly beans or the crowd or the cold or the good music, but when I finished the first mile in 10:53, even though my fastest ever mile before that was 12:00, I knew I was going to be in some trouble.

Somewhere between 1.5 miles and 2 miles I had to walk for a little bit. I was pretty disappointed about that. I caught my breath and kept on running. At 3 miles, I was at 36 minutes and some seconds. I remember thinking "Wow! I could actually do this in under 80 minutes". The fastest I had ever done 6.2 miles in training was 85 minutes. I was hoping to beat 85 minutes. Beating 80 minutes seemed like a total long shot. My plan was not to stop running again.

Only my groin started to hurt. And, my legs were running out of juice. I kept trying to dig deeper. I kept trying to look for some song on the music player of mine that would help me. Miles 4.5 to the end were tough. I'm not going to lie. I had to do more walking than I would have liked. It didn't help that the race ends going UPHILL. I'm not kidding. Who does that? Who ends a race going up hill??

Besides first laying eyes on my children, I am not sure I have ever seen a more beautiful sight than the finish line. My official time: 1:19:33. Under 80 minutes. So, although I had to walk more than I would've liked, I finished under the time I thought would be nearly impossible. I averaged 12:48 minute miles.

When I was done I didn't think that it was all that much fun. My dad told me that as time wore on it would seem like it was more fun. He's right. I'm already thinking it was pretty OK and am looking forward to planning my next race!

In Less than 72 hours...

In less than 72 hours the race will be over. In less than 72 hours I will know the answer to the question "Can I really run a 10K?".

I am not sure how will I do. I hurt a muscle around my hips when I did that 6 mile run last week. And, then after that while trying to compensate for that plan, I pulled a groin muscle. Frankly, I didn't even know ladies had groin muscles. So, last week's training was weak at best and this week, I haven't done anything at all to try and give it a rest. My groin feels better. My confidence does not. I would've like to have gone into the race with at least one more 6 miler under my belt.

It's going to be perfect running weather. Sunny, breezy, and like 50 degrees. It's going to be perfect running conditions. I'll have great music and have the company of my wonderful dad and sister. Oh and my sister's boyfriend, who I am sure is a fine, upstanding young man. I don't base this on Kristin's past choices, of course, but on the fact that he likes the Steelers and George Bush. I have good shoes, good clothes, good socks, a good heartrate monitor and (hopefully) a good hip/groin. It should go well.

I wish I had been able to train more. I wish I had lost more weight. I wish I could know if all I have done has been enough. In less than 72 hours, I will.

2 Weeks to Go

To be perfectly honest, a large part of me never thought I would make it this far.

I mean, really. I am not the "athletic" type. Just ask the kids in grade school who picked me last for dodgeball, kickball, or any other ball game. Or the softball coach that put me in right field. Or the ski team that left me in the dust. Athletic stuff...just not me. I tried to get into running once maybe about 9 years ago. I maybe got up to like 1/4 mile. Just not me.

It IS like me to start a new "healthy lifestyle" plan and get really excited about it and then hit a roadbump or a snag and then give up and give in. That is like me. And then, once I had given up or given in, it would add to my "further proof that I will always be fat" or "further proof that I am not athletic" mindset.

This is different though.

I've hit roadbumps. I've hit snags...and I've kept going.
I've heard that voice in my head that said I could never do it...and I've kept going.
I've looked at a busy schedule that made it nearly impossible to get runs in...and I've kept going.
I've had aches and pains...and I've kept going.
I've had nearly 1 million reasons/excuses to stop...and I've kept going.

Saturday I ran 6 miles. No one is more surprised than me!

FAIL!

If you are on facebook and if you love flair, then I am sure you have seen the ones where someone messes something up and then written over the scene is the word "FAIL!". That's how yesterday was for me.

Saturdays are usually my long runs. I was slated to do 8 miles of walking/running. I went in the morning prior to eating anything since that is how it will be the morning of the race. It was the hottest day I have run in so far. I'm still trying to figure out the balance between hydrating properly and yet not being 4 miles out on the trail and having to pee. Somehow yesterday, I was both dehydrated AND had to pee. How is that even possible! The only good thing is that outside if I pee my pants a little, I can just walk n the grass and no one will know. Doesn't work so well on the treadmill. In the end, I did 6.2 miles in 86 minutes (again). I only ran 3 miles of it, and my longest run was only 1.5 miles. Not very good. Especially not when my race is 3 weeks away.

One of the hardest things for me since I started this little journey has been not getting upset when I hit a little roadbump. It's not easy. I always want to be making progress. Yesterday didn't feel like progress. It felt like failure.

Trusting the Process

Do you want to know something I have recently discovered? As it turns out, I don't know everything about everything. Strange, huh?

Last week in my running was what they call in the biz, a recovery week. That basically meant that I was not to try to run farther or faster than I had previously and none of my walking/running was longer than 4 miles. I wasn't so sure I liked the idea of a recovery week. I mean I only have so many weeks left until the race, and I am only half-way there, and I still have like a ton of weight to lose, and, well, probably Runners World doesn't know that I can't afford to take a recovery week. I know that they are the experts, but I was pretty sure I knew better. I mean I could literally feel the fat cells attaching themselves to my thighs as I recovered.

From Day 1, though, I told myself I wasn't going to give up. I wasn't going to trust my mind or the scale. I was going to trust the experts. I was going to trust the process. So, after a little bit of a battle, I took the recovery week. I ran 3 miles one day, 2 another and 3 on the third. (Well, actually, I ran 3.14 since I like to run a Pi in honor of Jonathan who is so intrigued by a number that could go on forever).

Today was the first day back in non-recovery mode and well....I ran 4 miles...straight! Hooray! I am actually getting there. I can hardly believe it.

As it turns out, I guess the good folks at Runners World.com actually do know more about running that I do. Weird.

Breaking the Addiction

I love running on a treadmill.

It sounds so funny coming from me. I mean really. I love my kids...absolutely! I love Rob...you betcha! I love Ben and Jerry's Cookie DOugh Dynamo, especially when it is allowed to sit at room temperature for just a few minutes so it is extra soft and creamy...uh, yeah! I love using ellipses...obviously! But...I love running on the treadmill...who knew?!?!?

I think I enjoy the treadmill because it caters to my inner control freak. I know at every moment how fast I am going, how far I have gone, how much longer I have to run, how much farther I have to run, how many calories I have burned, and my current heartrate. If I don't like the numbers I see, I can go faster or slower and watch the results change in an instant. Ohhhhhh I love control! Add to that the little fan that blows in my face and my water bottle at arm's reach, and the fact that if I get my favorite treadmill, I can listen to music AND watch Fox news at the same time, and well, it's a little slice of heaven.

The bad thing is, I checked, and the 10K is NOT run on treadmills. It's run on a road. So, as much as I don't want to and as much as I miss my treadmill, I have to run outside. Running outside isn't really for control freaks. It's more for free spirits. I mean what if I get three miles out and I have to go to the bathroom? What if I get thirsty? What if some strange person tries to talk to me? What if I collapse and it takes hours for someone to find me but by then squirrels have started to nibble away at my hands? Do you see what I mean people?!?! Plus there are hills, and road bends, and curves to contend with. I have found out something interesting about myself...I really enjoy running downhill more than uphill. Prety strange, huh?

Saturday was my first swipe at 6.2 miles. I ran off and on for about 4.5 miles of it. I did it in 86 minutes. Not a bad start point and I have 5 weeks to improve on that. I am hoping by that time I'll stop jonseing for that treadmill.

10K - Halfway there

So, according to the Cleveland Marathon website as of a few seconds ago, I have 37days 23hours 9minutes and 40seconds until my 10K.

Last time I wrote I was excited because I could run 5 minutes. I've made it a bit farther since then. On Tuesday, I was trying for 3 miles. Just like that 1 mile mark, 3 miles has been a bit elusive. I think with one mile there was such a mental block for me. I went to run like 6 times, each time thinking this is the day I will run 1 mile straight and each time failing. Finally, I made it. I punched right past 2 miles. But, 3 miles has been another challenge. Before Tuesday,I had tried three times to run 3 miles and fell short each time. Part of me still says "I am waaaayyyyyy too fat to be able to run this distance."

I woke up Tuesday feeling like it would be the day. But then everything went wrong. I couldn't find my favorite mositure-wicking socks. My only pair of running pants that keep chafing at bay were dirty. And, the biggest problem of all....my music was in Rob's car. I toyed with the idea of not even running at all that day. But, that was the old me. THe old me used any excuse whatsoever NOT to exercise. This is the new me. I am a runner (or at least a very slow jogger). THis is the new me. I am in training for a race. So, I put on cotton socks and febreezed my dirty pants and decided to try it without music. It looked like it was going to be another day of not hitting my 3 mile target.

But, something amazing happened when I started running. Well, actually, something amazing happened when I got past the first half-mile. I hate the first half-mile. I got into a rhythm. My breathing was good. My muscles felt good. I was in the zone. I felt like I could run forever. 1 mile down....2 miles down...2.5 mles down all at the same pace. I had to slow down for the last 1/2 mile or so, but I did it...3 miles straight! Then I ran .1 mile for good measure and just to say I could run a 5K.

So, I am half-way there. Me. Fat, lazy me...ran 3.1 miles straight. I didn't stay home because I couldn't find my socks. Me. It's a miracle. If I can do this, truly, anyone can.

I am feeling like I won't be able to run the whole 10K. I am feeling like I am running out of time. I really, really want to run the whole thing. I may have to re-evaluate that. But, if I have learned anything, it's to trust the process and that I am capable of much more than I think I am.

From Couch to 10 K - 4 months to go

So, I know i haven't been blogging. I'm unmotivated.

4 months until the 10K. I haven't made as much progress as I would have liked. But, I am making progress. Today I had two good victories. One was that I went to the gym and I ran on a Saturday. Usually, I just do the elliptical on Saturdays because there are so many young, skinny people running on the treadmills, I was afraid I would feel silly. It's amazing to me how each day I can feel different. One day I can feel like I'm really losing weight and toning up and the next I feel like Dr. Phil and his cameras are going to be busting into my house to do a story on the world's fattest woman. But, I read in a book "Courage to Start" that you have to start with the body you have and so that is what I have done. And, today, I went on the treadmills with all of the young, skinny people and I ran, or rather jogged, or really wogged (walking/jogging).

Secondly, I ran for the longest time I have ever run....5 minutes. Which isn't all that great. BUt, I remember the very first time I tried to run, I couldn't wait for the one minute to be over because I thought I might die. And, after walking for 5 minutes, I ran another minute and my shins were screaming at me to stop. Today, 5 minutes running (jogging), 3 minutes walking 5 times. I'm making progress.

When I start on the treadmill, I always listen to Van Halen's Right Now for my pep-me-up, because right now I am turning this thing around. And by thing, I mean my life. I am tired of hating my body. I am tired of feeling like crap about the way I look. I am tired of being a bad example for my children of a healthy lifestyle. I'm tired of not wanting to be in any pictures with my family because of how I look. I need to turn this thing around. Right now. Not only have I let myself get unhealthy and bloated physically, I've let this happen spiritually too. This running thing is a spiritual experience for me as well.

Last night at small group we talked about the difference between trying and training. Someone can try something...that's no guarantee it can happen. BUt in training, you have a goal, you have baby steps to get you there and if you keep at the disciplines, you will get there. I hope so!

New Years Eve

SO, here's a conversation I had with Jonathan yesterday.

J: "Mom...how late can we stay up tomorrow night?"
M: "I don't know. 9:15?"
J: "Mom! That's our normal bedtime."
M: "Ok. How about 9:20?"
J: "I was thinking at least midnight."

UGH!! That means I have to stay up until midnight.

I suppose it is you know, tradition to stay up until the New Year arrives. Usher it in, if you will. I just like me my sleep. It wasn't always that way, of course. When I was Jonathan's age, my brother and I would make every effort to stay up until midnight and then when the New Year came we'd throw the confetti we had been making for the past several hours all over the living room. That was fun to clean up.

Then in my teen and college years, New Year's Eve was fun. Especially one time with a bunch of teenagers, some alcohol, and a hot tub. I won't give any more details since my parents read my blog, and, because that was 20-some years ago and I'm not sure I can remember them.

When I met Rob, his family has a great tradition of getting all dressed up and his dad, who is a super chef, makes a fancy, schmancy dinner. That was fun!

But, now I really can't remember the last time I stayed up. No scratch that. I DO remember. It was 1999. Canned goods and water in one arm and a fistful of money in another I waited for the world as we knew it to end. 3! (wait for it...) 2! (wait for it...) 1! (wait for it....) HAPPY NEW YEAR! And, then...nothing. Except for the sinking realization that I was stuck with 57 cans of Dinty Moore Beef Stew.

Staying up just isn't my thing. However, even though it's not my thing. And, even though I've been getting no sleep what with the stomach virus going around our house, I'll let Jonathan stay up so that he can start the New Year with those he loves most...and be thankful that, at least for now, I get to be one of those people.

It's a Christmas Miracle!

Our Christmas was nice. It wasn't exactly what I expected what with all the puking and my parents getting sick/iced in and not able to come. But, really? What ever is exactly what I expected? The kids enjoyed themselves. The adults enjoyed themselves. Presents were opened. Jesus was celebrated. Paper and toys and candy and clothing and crayons and food were strewn all over the place when it was all said and done...it was a good time.

And yesterday I experienced what can only be called a Christmas miracle. My children played outside together (in 50 degree weather) for 3.5 hours without fighting. You did hear me right. 3.5 hours. 4 kids. NO fighting. What were they doing for 3.5 hours you might ask?




Yes. Go now and get yourselves one. And then maybe you too can have 3.5 hours of (awake)fight-free sibling time.