The Big Leagues

Today is a rest day and I will rest. After which I will hopefully have gained enough perspective to articulate my thoughts and feelings about yesterday's 10 mile run. My legs hurt all over from the charlie horses and constant cramping I experienced beginning at the 6.5-ish mark. My brain can only pin-point the two ducks I saw on the creek's running path as what I enjoyed about the run. I am fried.

To follow the grueling 10 miles with a hysterically teething baby through the night definitely means that today I will rest.

Cheers to happier Mondays!

Pace = Time/Distance

Speed Wednesday is here again. Not so excited today since training calls for 8 miles consisting of 2 mile warm up, 2x2 miles with each 2 miles faster than the previous, and 2 mile cool down. Sure, I ran 8 miles on Saturday at a comfortable 9'42" pace, but today is the first run where I actively consider a pace strategy. In order to run a sub 2 hour half-marathon, pace has to be 9'09" or faster. With that goal front and center of my thoughts here on out for the next 3 weeks, I will be chasing that pace for every run, whether it's Speed Wednesday or Long Run Saturday.

I think it was last night when I fully realized that at this stage in training, it's time to let go of science and run the miles I want to run. My latest Google search, "how many seconds faster will I run a race with adrenaline" got me no where. My bad for thinking useful scientifically proven information to be on the web. The thought occurred to me that looking for such information would take more energy than coming up with pace goals for each 2 miles of Speed Wednesday. Therefore, I jotted down some Pace=time/distance equations for a few minutes until deciding painting my nails cherry red would make me feel the pace I want to set.

Some part of my brain is hinting to me that this is a do or don't run. It's time to barbecue or mildew. Based on my mile splits from my last 2 runs, the suspended fight inside me is on the prowl and ready to attack. 

In addition to the almighty pace, there are other important factors that I will need to focus on if I'm going to be prepared by race day. 

#1 Breathing -  Last week's panic attack has taught me to breathe with my mouth open in a pattern. 

#2 Positive Self Talk - Running solo during this entire training has made me incredibly more aware of how kind I must be to myself in goal-setting. Hearing my voice speak to me as my best friend or my sister has gotten me through the toughest miles so far. I'm beside myself excited to run with my sister for the race, to have our voices together.

#3 Body Form and Control - Hips forward, shoulders up, knees high, striking the ground mid-foot, body loose, and remember to smile.

#4 Trust - In the training. Trust in the plan. Trust my heart. Trust my breath. Trust my legs. Trust the journey.

#5 Push Fear!

#6 Water and Carbs.

L Is for...

We're having a lot of fun this week with the 'L' sound. We're dancing all week to Stevie Wonder's "Cherie Amour!" I remember this as one of Erin's favorite songs when she was a preschooler. She'd always ask me to play the "La-la-la" song while riding in the car. I bet she thought it was about her favorite Teletubbie. Now, my boys are dancing and grooving to the same tune.

Here are pics of Elijah and Emmanuel's "L is for Love" art projects.

L is for looking and learning too!

I love this picture! Emmanuel was so amazed at the worms hiding under cinder blocks. He respectfully watched them wriggle then moved on to a more interesting part of the backyard.

Passionate Journey

This week has been full! What I've learned is that no matter if I feel success or failure at my attempts along the road, I'm still on a journey. I'm reminded to embrace the journey because the journey is the reward!

I love to read quotes when my own insight is not fully developed or articulated, and am beginning to form a notion. Two separate, yet extraordinary experiences this week have led to my search for correlating quotes regarding success and failure.

Dictionary.com defines success as the favorable or prosperous termination of attempts or endeavors. 

Failure is to fall short of success or achievement in something expected, attempted, desired, or approved. Also, to be or become deficient or lacking, be insufficient or absent; fall short.

Success Quotes

To follow, without halt, one aim. There's the secret of success. - Anna Pavlova

Of course there is no formula for success except perhaps an unconditional acceptance of life and what it brings. - Arthur Rubinstein

Find somebody to be successful for. Raise their hopes. Think of their needs. - Barack Obama

What's money? A man is a success if he gets up in the morning and goes to bed at night and in between does what he wants to do. - Bob Dylan

Real success is finding your lifework in the work that you love. - David McCullough

Failure Quotes

Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt. - William Shakespeare

Failure is blindness to the strategic elements in events; success is readiness for instant action when the opportune moment arrives. - Newell D. Hillis

I was never afraid of failure, for I would sooner fail than not be among the best. - John Keats

Many of life's failures are men who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up. - Anonymous

Failure is the condiment that gives success its flavor. - Truman Capote

Experience 1

Every Wednesday during the half marathon training my sister and I have undertaken consists of a speed workout. I call them Speed Wednesdays and they are the most anxiety-filled days. Not only do the physical symptoms of anxiety surface while I prepare to leave home, but through-out the run as well.

This past Wednesday called for a 6 mile fartlek run: 2 mile warm up, 3 miles of fartleks (4 minutes of speed and 1 minute rest repeats), and 1 mile cool down. My sister and I have correctly nicknamed this the "Holy Shit" workout. Right around mile 3 of the run, toward the end of the second fartlek interval, I arrived at a stop light at the intersection of Cedar Avenue at Lake Nokomis. At this point, my mind veers off to a severely dark place and it begins to scream at me to turn around and walk home. At the same time, some other side of myself, my spirit I believe, fights and forces my body to stand still; to let the darkness run its course. Deep down I know walking home will feel awful later. I also realize that I can't come home and text my sister with this outcome. She's in Georgia running the same "Holy Shit" workout at the same time. It takes me a full 3 minutes to get my mind, body, and spirit act together. The instant my mind clicks back to reality, I sprint across the street not caring that the light is red and continue to fartlek the last 30 seconds of the interval. My planned mantra for the run, "push fear" played out in my head for the remaining 3 miles. At one point, I even ran with my hands out in front of me pushing it away. 

On the brink of failure, fear tried to take hold. I succeeded anyway and made it back home walking, not crawling through my front door. The panic attack was such a necessary part of the run. It was no different than tackling a hill.

Experience 2

Yesterday, my son, Manny made my Friday. Imagine with four of my own children and an additional that I provide daycare for, I am exhausted and at the end of my patience rope by Friday. Actually, I'm done by Thursday at 4pm. This Friday was no different. Manny is my son who is always at either a level 1 - happy-go-lucky, high on life; or level 10 - pounding the floor temper tantrum. There's no in between for him. Obviously, I love his level 1, however that includes climbing on the furniture, doing flips, and begging to turn on and off the lights by yelling "off" in his most outside voice. Additionally, Manny and his brother are about 90% potty-trained. They're wearing pull-ups only at night. Manny was on level 1 for most of the day and must have felt a moment of complete clarity because he walked right up to me and said "potty" for the first time ever! Neither of the boys had yet to verbally express their need to use the bathroom since training began in February.  So far, they've only danced around when they have to potty.

The potty training road has been a journey filled with ups and downs and lots of success. I'm so proud of my boys for catching on so quickly. Their steps toward independence are bitter sweet of course, however, I am so lucky to be their guide. 

Savor the Moments



Karen's Birthday Celebration



Karen REALLY enjoyed her cake! She gobbled down two slices before the boys finished their first and only slice.

Here is the post-cake sugar high. All four kids got the crazy wiggles at the same time. Moments like this make the exhaustion of four kids worth the journey.

Huntsmen Cheese, Meyer Lemon, and a Glass of Merlot!

At night, in the bed when my husband is at work and my ten-year-old is not working to sleep with me, I love to indulge in my own solitude. This is also the only time of day I'm able to enjoy, I mean savor every morsel of a treat instead of hiding behind the kitchen gate and gobbling down food before my kids see me and begin to beg. It doesn't matter what it is, they want a bite, especially the ten-year-old and the oldest twin, Elijah. Their taste buds are similar to mine. Just Tuesday night, Elijah who is two, was riding through the living room on his Plasmacar with a chunk of goat cheese in his hand.

I make a plate that includes cheese and fruit and carry it upstairs with a glass of wine. The cheese is Huntsmen, my new favorite. My daughter has appropriately named it moldy cheese. It is a combination of double gloucester, which is like sharper then sharp cheddar cheese, and blue stilton. All by itself, it's a pretty cheese to look at. I buy it in small chunks from higher-end grocery stores. It's delicious with a glass of merlot or pinot noir and perfect for small tastes and delicate sips. The bottle I'm enjoying now one sip at a time is 14 Hands 2009 Merlot. It's sweet when it first hits the taste buds, mildly bitter, and it does down smoothly.

The fruit I am currently savoring is a meyer lemon. Yes, a lemon! But this lemon is more like an orange-lemon. Wikipedia describes them as native to China (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meyer_lemon). I know them from the backyard tree at the home of my grandma (now deceased) on Rawson Street in Oakland, California. I became recently re-introduced to these delicious lemons when my mother brought five of them home from a trip to Atlanta. Panicked that my daughter or I would sneak to new lows coveting the last lemon, I Google searched "where can I buy meyer lemons in the Twin Cities" and found them widely available.

A meyer lemon smells like clean warm Northern California sunshine. It's essence also brings me back to my childhood spending many days in my grandma's kitchen on Oakland breezy days. The fragrant tree in her backyard would always intrude into her kitchen whether her windows were open or not. My grandma's kitchen is my fondest memory when it comes to almost all of my favorite foods. So many of the foods I absolutely savor and crave started of sliced, chopped, boiled, baked, or fried by her hands. It's a hugely gratifying treat enjoying memories of innocence biting into a meyer lemon.

Cheers to savoring moments of sheer happiness whether it's a birth, birthday, the sugar wiggle of kids, or a treat of cheese, fruit, and wine enjoyed in solitude.

Living My Dreams

Happy Birthday to my sweetheart daughter, Karen. She's 1 years-old today. Karen is our surprise baby. Although she's 14 months younger than the twin boys, they're more like triplets. I'm posting pics of her throughout today's post.

Yesterday was my mid-way through half-marathon training one mile speed test. At the start of training my fast mile was 8'48", a time I've never dreamed of running. I was certainly popping my collar and brushing my shoulders off to that time. I've always considered myself a comfortable eleven minute mile runner. Then this training began and training with my sister has inspired me to dream of the possibilities. Now, seven weeks into training I'm proud to report I'm more than one minute faster! I ran my first ever sub 8'00" mile! Whoop! Whoop!

So here goes the statement I've earned:

I am a fast 33 year-old woman.

Let me add that half-way through the mile test I pushed pause on my GPS watch to get a pace idea. I'm still re-learning what fast feels like. I had to push pause on the watch because I deactivated the pace screen to keep from digitizing my runs. Ok, so the watch reported a pace in the 6'30" range. Shocked, of course, and then fear roared at me. What did I do? I slowed down.

 

Expecting a Blessing

Whenever I receive word of friends, acquaintances, friends of friends, or the general public experiencing pregnancies involving multiples and/or complications, my empathy meter rises. I've been there on more than one occasion.

Here are all four of my children; healthy, thriving, and ready to eat!

Among my prayers for healthy mothers and babies, patient fathers, and supportive families, I can't help spending a few moments of gratitude remembering the births of my children. The three weeks that my newborn twins spent in the special care nursery were so achingly stressful. 

Sending up prayers, blessings, and purely good thoughts to expectant couples and growing families.

Meditative Running Thought

After peering through my kitchen window on Saturday at a ten-ish year-old boy running down the street, his free yet perfect gait has been tracking my thoughts ever since. "Man, that boy is fast," I told myself. I zeroed in on his legs which were fully engaged from hips to shoes in a full all out run. Not a sprint though. Above the hips, he was nothing but spirit riding through the breeze. Likely, he was innocently running home for dinner or whatever little boys run so freely home for.

The mental snapshot of this little boy has me yearning to run like him. I really, really want to run with child-like innocence. To let my legs completely go and my spirit riding out the run with pure enjoyment. It has dawned on me, however, that my earnest desire will remain unfulfilled as long as I hold onto fear.

I admit that fear is the most natural aspect of any run I set out on, particulary as I'm training for my first ever half marathon. As I dress for a run, each piece of clothing and gear feels like putting on and preparing for a tragically painful death. I experience every physical form of anxiety whether my training day is a 3-miler, speed run, or long Saturday run. The hardest step is opening my front door. Once I'm outside, I'm commited to whatever the run will throw at me.

The one and only thing I fear in any and all runs is hurt. I don't mean injury. I mean hurt that comes from taking a leap of faith and receiving loss and/or failure in return. There is the awfully inevitable pain of risk. I am so afraid of going to the edge, let alone leaping, and not being able to come back. Translated, if I run like I did when I was my seventeen-year-old self, will I be good enough, or will the past sixteen years hunt me down and slash my innocence?

This week, I am training with heavy thoughts of surrendering to the fear of running. My spiritual inclination is to lay my running fear at the cross as I have other journeys I hold myself accountable for.

Obviously, other areas of my life can use a dose of innocence. I'd love just one successful and functional day with an upright and fully engaged gait, my spirit riding on top of the breeze.