Super Scooper

There are many feats accomplished in motherhood. Giving birth naturally certainly comes to mind. Breastfeeding for 17 months. But today, I found myself strangely proud of one particular feat.

After ten minutes of listening to A whine, "side mama, side," while staring longingly out the back door, I gave in and took her outside to ride her toddler car in the cold. Two minutes of her little legs shoving her forward Fred Flintstone-style, and it was time for mom to push. For a change of scenery and a smoother surface, I decided to push her in the front yard. Plus it says to the neighbors, "See, we do leave the house in the wintertime. I am not a complete baby when it comes to cold."

After about thirty seconds of pushing, I noticed that my escape artist Golden Retriever, we'll lovingly call Dell-dini, had managed to deposit quite a bit of poop on her latest front yard rendevous. So, I stopped pushing A and asked her to come with me to the back so I could get the shovel, to which she agreeably replied, "No" and continued to stake her claim in the front. Knowing that the minute I turned my back, A and the car would be in the middle of the road, I pushed her to the back, grabbed the shovel, then pushed her with one hand back to the front.

Here comes the impressive part. I scooped the four piles of poop into the shovel, walked over to A, and without dropping one bit, pushed her with the other hand into the backyard, while balancing a full shovel. I successfully tossed Dell's gift into the woods and patted myself on the back. (I didn't really pat myself on the back.) Clean front yard. Happy Toddler! Super Mommy??! Apparently, it doesn't take much to make this stay-at-home mom excited, and as I write this, I realize I really should get out a little more often.

Eleven Lessons I've Learned from Marathon Training

You know you've been training for a long time when a ten-mile run feels short and easy. I wonder how long I'd have to train for a twenty-mile run to feel short? In two very short weeks, almost two years after giving birth to my sweet girl, I will, hopefully, line up at the start of the Mercedes Marathon and take on 26.2 miles. In the past 18 weeks, my training has taught me quite a bit about running and just pushing your body to what you once thought were its limits. As my mind wandered during a 10-miler today, I came up with the following lessons:

In no particular order:

1. Running ten miles with a wrinkle in your sock hurts!

2. Runners can be very gross people. I kid you not, I have watched a runner pass me then spit out a loogie (sp?) that rivaled the size of a jelly-fish. I have also had a runner pass me, wave courteously, then press one nostril, while ejecting snot from the other. Just thinking about these makes me green.

3. At the first sign of injury, back off! Perhaps three unsuccessful attempts at running a marathon have made me a bit wiser. Before I gained my wisdom, I would think backing off, slowing down, resting, what-have-you would mean losing valuable training time, so I trained through the pain. Instead, resting means that you heal and still get to run. By training through injury, I worsened the injury and did not get to run.

4. Runners on the trail run or walk three to four abreast and refuse to give way to runners going either direction. This does not bode well for clumsy, injury-prone runners, like myself, who risk spraining an ankle by jumping off of the sidewalk to run in the mud. A little politeness goes a long way.

5. Despite what my gym teacher or high school basketball coach say, I AM AN ATHLETE!

6. You can train in a 23-degree windchill and survive. Along those same lines, don't overdress. Save the ski suit for the slopes.

7. You don't need an Ipod. I've trained for four marathons with my trusty Sony walkman from 1998. Granted, I haven't run one yet; it's not the radio's fault. Good thing I love sports-talk radio. And when the batteries die in the middle of a run, it can be fun to get lost in your thoughts
or daydream for the first time since Geometry class.

8. A twenty-mile training run does not make you famous or a superhero. My nearly two-year-old could care less that mom was so sore she could barely lift her toes or brush her hair; A wanted to play chase, snuggle bunny, and read, while bouncing in my lap. It doesn't take long to get over yourself.

9. Running is 25% physical and 75% mental!

10. The support of family and friends is critical to the training process. I could not have trained without my husband. He cheered me and took care of A during 3+ hour runs.

11. Perhaps most importantly, I've come to understand that God loves me and that means He cares about the small things that are important to me, including running. As my previous blog mentioned, I've been struggling with IT band trouble, yet, somehow at mile 17 of a 20 miler, I realized that I had not had any knee pain, not even an ache. Before I began my run, I prayed that God would put his healing hands on my knees and get me through the run, and He did. I don't think this life-long desire to run a marathon is just a haphazard whim. I believe I long to run it for a reason that is greater than proving to myself that I can, so I also pray that God will be glorified in the training process, as well as on race day. If anything, this training process has required me to lean on my faith, and on February 10th, I believe I'll be proof that with Christ ALL things are possible, even 26.2!

The Misfit Mom

When I left work and happily entered the land of full-time motherhood, I also unexpectedly entered a world of isolation and a time of personal rediscovery. I was immediately forced to reexamine my definition of self and what being "stay-at-home" as opposed to "working" meant. I was also not ready for the complete disconnect with old friends. Lonely took on a new meaning, and while it's gotten easier, I am still searching for some stay-at-home mom friends, so I decided to attend a meeting of a local parent volunteer group. Fish out of water, anyone??

My husband and I lovingly refer to our home as being in the "slums" of the affluent community in which we live, so I was not overcome by surprise when I walked into the meeting and saw fashionable Louis Vuitton purses and Coach handbags. I, for some reason, had made the odd wardrobe choice of a comfortable sweater and jeans smeared with black beans from my attempt to cook and eat dinner in a half-hour, so I could make the meeting on time. I walked into a room of thirty women who all looked like the moms you see in Parents magazine. Those who've spent all day with toddlers yet still manage to look freshly showered. I had just barely managed a shower sometime in that day.

Perhaps I have an inferiority complex, or maybe I really am just shy, and while I do realize I was not about to enter the battlefield, walking into that room full of complete strangers did require me to muster quite a bit of courage. I meekly scurried to my seat and pretended to be busy filling out the registration form. Every now and then I would look up, praying for a familiar face to appear in the doorway. I did make eye contact and smile, but after a few minutes of neither speaking nor being spoken to, I debated leaving entirely. Then, they brought out the cheesecake brownies, so I thought I'd give it a little more time. Surely, I could find one conversation that needed my sparkling personality to give it a little more oomph.

Remember double-dutch from elementary school, the two jump ropes flying at once and you have to find that perfect moment to enter without breaking the rhythm and falling flat on your face. This was a lot like that. Trying to find a conversation and feel like there was a right time to enter. The problem is most of the women already knew each other or knew someone who knew someone they knew, and I just didn't really know anyone. This new mommy friend find, it turns out, is much like finding a date. Before I had a chance to "make new friends" the meeting began, and I remembered that I was here to find volunteer opportunities in my community.

After the meeting and on an apparent cheesecake-induced sugar high, I finally mustered the courage to introduce myself to a few women it seemed like I might have something in common with. Lo and behold, they were just as kind and warm as I should have expected. Leaving, I felt more sheepish than discomfited and had learned a valuable lesson in judging others based on appearance. Like double-dutch jump rope, some elementary lessons don't always stick.

Something in my nature often leaves me feeling out-of-place when in the presence of with-it women, perhaps it is my inability to walk without falling, but when it comes down to it, I imagine they struggle with feeling less than perfect more often than I imagine. While I'll never be completely at ease entering a room full of strangers, I am proud that I at least had the gumption to try, and I am sure will eventually have some meaningful friendships as a result. I just hope one of my new friends has the recipe for those brownies.

Ouch! That Hurts

Today I was at mile 10 of an 18 mile training run when I stopped running and starting sobbing. Allow me to tell you from first-hand experience, this activity tends to garner stares from concerned passers-by, yet none concerned enough to stop.

I'll back up. I am training for a marathon, just five short weeks away. No big deal. It is hard to have a conversation without finding that the person with whom your speaking is running or knows someone who is running. But for me this is the fourth try to run a full marathon, a dream since my teenage years! Count 'em: four. My first attempt ended in a bout with pneumonia two weeks prior to the marathon. Needless to say, I did not lace up the sneakers for that marathon. Year two: Welcome back, pneumonia. It came a little earlier this time, so I did manage the half-marathon. The third time would surely be the charm, not so. A stress fracture turned into a break turned into three months of no running, which turned into a pregnancy with nine months of no running.

What are you doing during training you might be wondering? The first two years, I did not heed the warning to rest post-long run and not get around germy crowds. When you teach school, germy crowds are hard to avoid. The third year, I ignored the nagging pain in my ankle until it began to sear.

This time, though, attempt number four, I am older, wiser, and well, wiser. I started increasing my mileage weeks before my training program began, I cross-trained twice a week, I rested at least once a week, and I listened to my body this time. If I hurt, I took an extra day of rest. No sniffles, no aches, nothing, until the 16-mile training run on Christmas eve. This is when the trouble began.

I noticed a slight pain in my knee at the end of the run, so I took a few days off. When I resumed running, no more pain. Then on Saturday, I decided it would be okay to go ahead and attempt my 18-miler. Mile ten is when the pain became unbearable, so I did what any good runner would do, I called my husband to see what he would do. Secretly, I was hoping he would say, keep going and see what happens. He didn't. Instead, he and A picked me up at mile 12 and drove me, freezing, crying, and aching back to my car.

And here I sit, trying to figure out what to do next, while trying to maintain my optimism and sense of humor. Clearly, anyone who has attempted four separate tries at a marathon, including all those months of grueling training, has a sense-of-humor, but I'll be honest, it's waning. I think my strategy is to see what my orthopedic doctor has to say. The last time I visited my orthopedist, he laughed when I cried at the diagnosis that I would not be running 26.2 miles. Clearly, he had never trained for and not run three marathons. If anything, I'm tenacious. I now have a new doctor who I hope will be more sensitive. Until the appointment, I guess I'll just have to wait and see....