Bless me, Marshall, for I have run

Tonight's run was, for lack of a better term, a spiritual experience. Also? It was hard.

I don't mean, "gee that run sure was a toughie!" I mean first it felt like my run was cursed and then, from almost the first steps, I questioned whether or not I would be able to do it. But let me, as Julie Andrews would say, start at the very beginning. If you really want just the punchline, you can skip the next four paragraphs.

I knew tonight's run would be tough. It was my first run of a new week of the couch-to-5k program, and no matter how easy day three of the previous week was, day 1 of a new week is always difficult. This week, my distance and time both increased, so I knew it would be a bigger push than usual, and I spent the two hours before my run obsessing over it. I figured my warm-up distance, then calculated each distance marker for running and walking (e.g at .5 miles, run, at .75 miles, walk, at .87 miles, walk, and so forth). I wrote it all down so I didn't have to try to do math while running (cause, you know, I'm a photographer. I have a hard enough time doing math while sitting). I made sure I had everything gathered before I went to pick Luke up from work - water bottle filled, new ipod (a 2nd gen shuffle) in my purse, etc.

So I was all pumped up for my run, ready to drop myself off at the gym on the way home after picking Luke up (it's less than a mile from our house and on the way). Then, as we were waiting at the stoplight before the turn, I started swearing. I had forgotten my notebook. Can't run without those numbers. So I dropped off the boys, ran in for the notebook, and drove back to the gym. Ok, I told myself, you're ready now. I got myself all set up on the treadmill and started walking. I turned on my ipod, and a song I don't know well came on. Huh. That's weird. I skipped ahead. A slow song. Uh, oh... I skipped ahead again, hoping to find a good beat. No dice. FUCK. I got off the treadmill, grabbed all my stuff and walked back to the car. I can't run without my music.

As I'm driving home, I bemoan my bad luck today. This workout is doomed. I pull in, put my run playlist on the shuffle and get back in the car. Driving back to the gym, I think how lucky it was I had forgotten my notebook earlier, because if I hadn't, I wouldn't have had the car in order to go back for my music and then I would REALLY have been screwed. Maybe this isn't so bad after all. Maybe I'll be ok.

Back on the treadmill, Cake beats in my ears. "Reluctantly crouched at the starting line/engines pumping and thumping in time/the green light flashes, flags go up/churning and burning, they yearn for the cup." Yes, I can do this. This will be a good run.


A tenth of a mile in, I realize I grossly overestimated my warm-up distance, the one on which all of my calculations had been based. My warm up was twice as long as usual (because no way was I going to be able to do that math in my head. See above.), and I was more burned out than usual by the time I started my first run.

Despite that difficulty, my first run was not so bad. A quarter mile, followed by an eighth of a mile fast-walk recovery. Then came the half-mile run. But I did it. I knew I had only one more "easy" run and one more half mile run and I was done. But then, I started running that easy run, my second quarter mile, and I was hurting. My knees were starting to get sore, and my chest was tight. Oh man. I am not going to be able to do this. Sure, sure you will. You haven't screwed any of these runs up yet. You've only got one run left today, you can do this. Oh man this sucks. I did my last walk (only an eighth mile again), and as I geared up for my final run, my second half-mile, a less-than-stellar song came on. I skipped it. A song I wasn't that familiar with came on, and I had my finger on the "skip forward" button, but then I realized what it was. I almost cried for that first 10 seconds with no music (if I ever have to run a race without music, I'm screwed), but I let the song play. And Marshall Mathers, aka Eminem, lifted me up.

Cause sometimes you just feel tired.
You feel weak and when you feel weak you feel like you wanna just give up.
But you gotta search within you, you gotta find that inner strength
and just pull that shit out of you and get that motivation to not give up
and not be a quitter, no matter how bad you wanna just fall flat on your face
and collapse.

How can you quit with those words in your ear? You can't. And as the song really began, in the background, I could hear, Yo left, yo left, yo left right left Yo left, yo left, yo left right left Yo left, yo left, yo left right left yo left, yo left, yo left right left... and I let my feet hit the treadmill again and again and again. I just kept going.

A quarter mile in and I'm dying. My lungs are screaming, my legs are burning, my abs are on fire, but Marshall is singing.

Till the roof comes off, till the lights go out
Till my legs give out, can’t shut my mouth.
Till the smoke clears out and my high burns out
I’ma rip this shit till my bones collapse.
Till the roof comes off, till the lights go out
Till my legs give out, can’t shut my mouth.
Till the smoke clears out and my high burns out
I’ma rip this shit till my bones collapse.

And I keep running. And just as I'm coming to the end of that half mile, He reminds me why I keep doing this.

I will not fall,
I will stand tall,
Feels like no one could beat me

Running is HARD. But when I'm done, when I've finished for the day, I am so proud of myself for pushing through. Running a half mile without stopping twice in 25 minutes (plus two quarter miles and the walks) probably doesn't sound like much to most people. But for me, it is HUGE. And Marshall was just what I needed to push me through. Having him singing to me, right at that moment, gave me the strength to carry on.

When I got off the treadmill and went over to the scale, I found out I've lost another 1.5 lbs and am now down 18.5 lbs since 7/28/09. Today, I burned 475 calories running (175 more than usual), and hit 2.6 miles.

See you Tuesday, treadmill.

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Daily Gratitudes

-- MUSIC MUSIC MUSIC. Does there need to be anything more?

Brief Humor Interlude

At a bookstore the other day, there were four children at a train table. Quentin and Jude (4.5 and 1.5 if you don't recall) and another set of siblings, probably 3 (boy) and 2 (girl).

The 2-year-old girl's mother was constantly barraging her. "Pick that up Suzie*." "Put that back, Suzie." "Do this, do that, where are you going, come back here right now, young lady!" I was rolling my eyes inwardly, wishing she would just let the kids play and have them pick up when they were finished. If not for their sakes, for mine because this chick's voice was really grating on my nerves.

After the 3049th time the mom berated Suzie to "put that down right now!" Quentin looked at her and said in his earnest, sincere, wide-eyed way, "Why does she always do what you say?"

The mom stared. She sputtered. She guffawed. Then she spit out, "Well, because that's what she SHOULD do."

L. O. L.

I love my kid (who happens to be going through a small "princess" phase at the moment).

*name has been changed to protect the innocent

Every Moment

It's midnight and I'm still awake.

From down the hall I hear an anguished cry; my four-year old is awake. He sleeps through most nights these days, so this is unusual. I get up and pad down the hall to his room.

He's sitting up in bed, rubbing his eyes. I lay down next to him and give him a big hug. "Are you ok?" I ask. He nods and grips me tightly.

After a few minutes, he's seemed to calm down enough and I try to extract my tangled limbs. But he's not asleep and clutches me like he's drowning. "Cuddles, Mommy?"

No, buddy, Mommy has to sleep in her own bed. The words form on my lips, and then I remember and think, Why? Why can't I stay here with him? The baby is asleep in my bedroom, and Daddy is there if he needs anything. Why can't I stay here with my big boy tonight?

A few days ago, I read a heartbreaking story about a mom with terminal cancer. She had more or less come to terms with the fact she was not going to be around to watch her children grow up, and was just making the best of her time. She was writing letters to her children, to be read on special occasions, when she would not be there with them, and more importantly, trying to make sure her kids had great memories of her to hold on to when she was gone.

I don't have cancer. But for the most part, none of us knows how much time we have on this earth, with our loved ones. I am not trying to be morbid, but it's important for me to know, if I were to walk out the door and get hit by a bus tomorrow, that my children's memories of me would be happy ones. And while some bloggers use this platform to write letters to their children, mine doesn't usually fall into that category. So I made an agreement with myself.

I decided to try, every day, to imagine that I had a short time left to live. To make decisions with that in mind. Because it might be true. When I lay dying, what will I be thinking? What would I regret? What would I want them to remember? I would regret the minutes and hours I spend yelling every day and week. I would wish for more time to breathe in the smell of their hair. I would wish I had let that article go unread or that Facebook game unplayed so that I could cuddle up and read or sit down and play trains. I would wonder what their memories of me would be, and I would wish for happiness. I want them to remember that I was there for them when they needed me. I wish for them to know my love, always.

Why can't I stay here with my big boy tonight? There is no good reason.

So I don't say, "No, baby." Tonight, I whisper, "ok," and cuddle down with my baby, who is growing so fast. I pet his hair and watch him breathe. We fall asleep together, in peace, and I hope he remembers times like these.

Allowance plus school supplies equals fiscal responsibility?

You know how it goes. The minute you step foot in the store, it's "MOMMY! I want this toy!" or "MOMMY! I want that toy!" For us, the two crack-stores are Barnes & Noble (who carry Thomas trains that fit on standard wooden tracks) and the Lego Store (who carry, duh, Legos).

So a few months ago, we decided to start giving Q an allowance. It was time, we figured, for him to spend HIS hard-earned money on the things he wanted, time for him to learn that to buy something, you must sacrifice something else. And it worked surprisingly well! That kid has a memory like an elephant. And while that may be a drawback when he remembers at 3 am that he was supposed to have ice cream for dessert but never did, it is really amazing to watch him forgo buying one toy because he's saving up for another.

School is back in session this month, and school supplies are everywhere. And call me a weirdo (my husband does), but I adore school supplies. Mandie in the school supply section is like a kid in a candy store. Somehow, I guess I've passed that on to my eldest. He LOVES, ADORES notebooks. We don't really do coloring books (I kind of think they stifle creativity. But also, they're expensive.) so notebooks are where Q does his coloring and drawing. And crayons, OH how he loves crayons.

So as we peruse the school supply section (for even though my kids don't GO to school, we have to visit that section to appease mommy's weaknesses), I am begged for notebooks, for crayons, and lately, for neat things like compasses and protractors. We turn it into a math lesson. "Ok, Q, you have $10 of allowance saved. The notebooks are on sale for $.10, so you could buy 10 of them for ONE dollar. Crayons are $.25 each, so you can buy four of them for a dollar. If you buy 10 notebooks and 4 boxes of crayons, how many dollars will you have left for that train you wanted to buy?" and so on.

Turns out, school shopping is less like shopping and more like school, with subjects including math, fiscal responsibility, and of course, negotiation tecniques.

Do you use school shopping time to instill fiscal responsibility in your kids? You too can participate in this  Parent Bloggers Network blog blast, sponsored by Capital One's Moneywi$e E-Learning Tool. Just post about the subject (school shopping and teaching kids fiscal responsibility) between now and Sunday and be sure to include links to PBN and Capital One. You could win an Amazon Kindle or a $150 Visa gift card! For more information, visit the blog blast info page. 

Facing the Fear

For some reason I couldn't quite put my finger on, I was nervous today. Every time I thought about my impending run, I got butterflies, and my inner 3-year-old whined, "I don't wanna!" Sure, my knees were sore from last night's kickboxing class but they usually are sore these days. Three 20-minute runs and two 1-hour kickboxing classes a week, plus the 30-day-shred once per week... well, that regimen is hard on the knees! Even as I dressed for the gym, I was bitching and moaning to Luke about how I didn't feel like running today.

Maybe I knew going to the gym would push back grocery shopping (and thus sleep!) by an hour. Maybe I am a champion self-sabotager and needed a reason to fail. Maybe I was afraid of the new routine (C25k week 3 involves, for me, switching from time to distance). Maybe I was just feeling lethargic; I ate way too much yesterday and almost didn't even make it to kickboxing. But I DID make it to kickboxing last night and that (along with the other 6 running sessions I've done so far) helped get me off my ass and to the gym.

There were about a hundred thousand people there tonight, for some reason, and as I walked in, I sighed inwardly. I donwannaDOthis, I muttered (in my head, of course). But I walked from one side of the gym to the other, searching for the kind of treadmill I like (with the speed buttons on the front grips, great for intervals). I ended up having to be RIGHT NEXT to some skinny chick who was also running, and wah wah wah.

Come on, I said to myself, it's only four runs today. Tuesday you did six runs. And I whined back to myself that they were shorter runs on Tuesday. Then I turned on my music. And the announcer said, "The Violent Femmes... they bring ALL their equipment on the bus. And you can't FUCK with the Violent Femmes. You Cannot Fuck With This BAND." And I thought, Damn straight, and you can't fuck with me either. I'm going to DO this. And I did.

After all that bitching and moaning, I think today's run was actually EASIER than Tuesday's. It's kind of like going to the dentist or getting a shot. You work yourself all up thinking about it, anticipating it, and when it's over, you're like, "That was it??"

I ran my usual 1.7 miles and burned my usual near-300 calories. But I only had to run 4 times, and two runs were longer than I've done so far. I finished feeling strong and accomplished, with sore knees and a lifted heart. I could get used to this.

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Daily Gratitudes
-- 80s alternative. Because, seriously? You really CAN'T fuck with the Violent Femmes.
-- Meijer, for being open 24 hours so I didn't have to rush to the grocery store after my run, and could kiss my babies goodnight.
-- Luke, again, for being happy to stay home and put the kids to bed while I shopped
-- The Couch-to-5k Facebook people, who post informative and motivating links daily.
-- My slightly (ok, severely) Type-A personality (Luke calls it anal-retentive) which, for the most part, Will Not Let Me Quit or Fail.
-- YOU, dear reader, yes YOU the ONE person who reads this blog regularly, for reading to the end, for caring about me and my family and my journey.

Sabotage

(You're welcome, 80s children, for that Beastie Boys audio-visual)

I know I've been writing a lot about my fitness routine and weight loss efforts lately, and I hope you're not tired of it. Aside from my children, it's pretty much consuming my life right now. For a plethora of reasons, I'm not in classes this semester, and my "me" time is spent at the gym. This is my life, and this is my blog.

I started my current weight-loss and fitness journey on July 28. Since then I have lost 13 pounds, which boils down to about 4.3 pounds per week. And that sounds great! I keep pulling out my calculator and doing the math to see how much weight I will have lost by "x" date if I keep up this pace. Turns out, I could lose 78 lbs by the beginning of February. BUT, when you consider birthdays, holidays, and slowing metabolism from lower calorie intake and weight, you know a pace like this is hard - nigh on impossible - to maintain. That doesn't stop me from thinking about it.

This weekend, though, I realized that, while the average sounds great, the truth is I have only lost 4 lbs in the past 2 weeks. I had an initial burst of weight loss (probably mostly water weight), and have already slowed down. That hit me hard, psychologically. I decided I'd have to change something. I was already working out 6 days a week (running, kickboxing, and shredding), and eating only about 1000-1200 calories per day, depending. I had the brilliant idea to do maintain my workout program but switch to interval eating, keeping my current diet as an "up day" and adding in a super-low-calorie "down day" where I would consume only 600 calories or so. Yesterday was my "up day" and I ate "normally." Today was supposed to be my "down day."

I ate my shake for breakfast, around 8 am. I ate some grapes around 10:30. At noon I had another shake, for lunch. I was still hungry. An hour later, I was quite hungry. So I ate a 140 calorie, protein-rich snack. An hour later I was hungry. At around 3, I decided to make zucchini bread, since everyone and their brother had been talking about it. I went through the effort, substituting flax for eggs, tossing in some protein powder, waiting an hour for baking and cooling. And yes, I was still hungry. I wolfed THREE pieces of zucchini bread with smart balance (which has - OMG - NINE grams of fat per TABLESPOON).

I thought I was done. I knew I could recover from this, but I truly thought the day was a wash. I've already fucked up the day, I said to myself, I might as well enjoy it and eat some other things I've been denying myself. I planned take-out pizza for dinner and ice cream for dessert. I was even going to skip kickboxing and go see Thom Hartmann at Frugal Muse in Darien.

Then it started to rain. There was a hail warning. I thought, Maybe I'll skip Thom and go to kickboxing after all. Then I won't feel so bad about having pizza for dinner, anyway. So at 6, I geared up for class, laced up my shoes, and waited for Luke to come home. On the way to the gym, I was thinking of pizza. I was also thinking do I really want to sabotage my whole day because of a few pieces of zucchini bread? I went to my class and kicked and boxed. It was a half-empty class due to the aforementioned weather and I had to do something I HATE. I had to look at myself in the full-wall mirror at the front of the room. Usually, I position myself carefully behind someone so as not to have to do this. Tonight, there was no one. And I looked awful.

By the time class was over, I was exhausted, sore, and proud. I was also no longer in the mood for pizza. What might have been a full-day sabotage turned into one moment of weakness followed by redemption. Thank goodness for kickboxing.

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Daily Gratitudes

-- Ewan McGregor. Not to undermine my boys, but his very existence makes life a little more worth living.

-- Child's Pose. It is such a nice, relaxing stretch.

-- Zucchini bread. Because really? Despite the cup of sugar per loaf, there are worse things to binge on.

-- Luke. My cheerleader, my support system, my babysitter.

9 is my favorite color

For reasons as yet undisclosed, I was told just over a week ago that I had to lose about 20 pounds FAST. This seemed to me, at the time both daunting and easy-as-pie. While 20 lbs sounds like a lot to someone who is many sizes smaller than I, I can gain 15 lbs and barely notice, and sadly, the same goes for losing.

But I was determined. I'm already a fairly healthy eater, so I knew just cutting out junk wouldn't cut it. I needed to go drastic, at least for awhile. I started doing Slim Fast combined with Alli pills, and we gave in and joined the gym like we've been meaning to for months.

8 days, 20-odd Slim Fast Shakes and Alli pills, 5 salads, 3 healthy choice meals, innumerable grapes and sugar snap peas, 2 elliptical sessions, 20 pushups, 100 crunches, 1/2 a kickboxing class and a 1.5 mile run later, and I am NINE pounds lighter than I was when I started. NINE! That's almost halfway! AND, I was sick for a couple days and unable to work out (and desperate to do so by day 3). Not to mention my huz's family's annual pool party, wherein everyone brings a billion foods. I stuck to Slim Fast, veggies, and Jello-shooters. Hey, a girl's gotta indulge.

I am so freaking proud of myself. And tonight, after my run? I felt like I was FLOATING, FLYING. Maybe it was the sugar-free redbull I consumed an hour before, or maybe it was endorphins. Either way, it felt SO. GOOD. to complete that first couch-to-5k workout (again), to know I'll be going back to do it again Saturday, back to kickboxing Monday, and that I now have a plan for myself (I made a google spreadsheet. I am teh geek).

I feel great. Yes, it's losing weight, but I know this pace will not last (it wouldn't be healthy if it did). More than that, it's actually accomplishing this thing I've been telling myself to do for 5 years. It's GOING and DOING and HOPING and BECOMING. It's wonderful. (I really hope I don't burn out like I usually do with this sort of thing. My motivation is better than usual this time, though, so my fingers are crossed)

Tonight's Run:
C25k W1D1
30 minutes (including 5 each for warm up/cool down)
1.63 miles
289 calories
Pace: 2.0 MPH warm up/cool down 4.5 MPH run/3.3 MPH recovery - final run at 5 MPH

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Daily Gratitudes:
-- Jude singing along with the Beatles (I am the eggman WHOO, they are the eggmen, WHOO and also maybe you an drive my car, and maybe I love you BEEP BEEP YEAH!!)
-- Lily Allen (OMG running to Lily rocks)
-- Jack Johnson (please come sing me to sleep - "Bubble Toes" is my cool down song and it takes me to my happy place)
-- Endorphins
-- and of course, 9