Weekend Workout

"Mom, why isn't the blue one doing it too?"
"Because...she's...the teacher."
"Why is she the teacher?"
"Because...(huff)...she...(puff)...is."
"And the other one is the kid?"
"Theyrebothgrownups."
"Why are they both grownups?"
"Mummycan'ttalkrightnow!"

It's Saturday morning and instead of 'thinking about the muscles we are working,' as Jillian instructs, I am discussing the relationship between Ms. Michaels and her hard-bodied exercise drones.  Actually, this is the most focused I've been able to be on a workout in months.  The fitness gods must be smiling on me because the baby fell asleep at nine, and I had time to vacuum and drag out the wooden train set before starting my workout.  But instead of building tracks in the designated corner of the living room:

"Can I use your weights and you can use daddy's weights?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because...daddy's...weights...weigh...toomuch."
"How much do daddy's weights weight?"
"Twentyfivepounds."
"Twenty-five pounds?"

I grunt and try to focus on holding my measly two-pounders over my head for the second set of surrenders.

"So you can't do twenty-five pounds?"

I picture myself sprawled on the floor, two twenty-five-pound dumbbells pinning me to the carpet.

"No...(huff)...mummy...can't...do...twenty-five..."
"Why can you not do-"
"I'mgoingtoput....yourtrainsaway.....ifyoudon'tplaywiththem...now!"

It's not my highest point, but who knows how much more time I'll have before the baby gets up?  Finally the video stream reaches 30 minutes, the point in the video I promised myself I'd reach before vacuuming the rest of the floors, hopefully before the baby wakes up.  I skip forward to the last ten minutes of the video and settle in for a good stretching session, something I really need after months and months of hunched breastfeeding.  My neck and shoulders are tight, and I feel the stretch there even more than in my legs or arms, which is what I've been working, according to Jillian.

I move into a straddle position and make to lean forward, stretching my inner thighs.  Instead my three-year-old abandons the trains again and sits right in front of me.

"I want to stretch, too."

How can I say no?  The best part of having this little guy around is moments like these, when he just wants to BE with me.  Someday I'll be able to put my mental focus back into a workout.  Someday I'll get through a stretching session without a little boy climbing all over me.  Someday I won't have to endure the unending stream of questions from a three-year-old who innocently believes that his mom can do two sets of surrenders with twenty-five-pound weights.  I hope that day doesn't come too soon.

My Kevin Moment

So the other day I went running in a popular park near my parents' house.  It was a gorgeous summer afternoon.  The sun was shining, the birds were tweeting, families were picnicking.  My husband parked near one of the playgrounds to drop me off before heading over to my parents' where we would be barbecuing later.  I kissed the kids in their car-seats and headed for the woods.  This park has a network of trails, roads, and paths so that you can run for a few miles in the woods and still be fifty feet from a picnic table at any given time.  (Hmm...that's a little creepy, now that I think about it.)

I hit "start" on my MapMyRun app and bounced past a mult-picnic-table family reunion, down a wide, rocky path, and into the woods.  "Ahhh," I thought to myself, breathing in the warm scent of pine needles.  "A nice afternoon for a relaxing jog."  Then, out of nowhere: SWOOSH!!  A flash of white and blue appeared on the trail in front of me.  SWOOSH! SWOOSH!  Up ahead a college student was running back and forth across the trail.  Up and down the hill on either side of the trail he ran, like a pendulum, crashing through the woods as he went.  I stopped dead in my tracks.

Now, I'm fairly new to the sport of running, so I can only assume that this is some newfangled type of hill repeat.  For about a whole minute I stood there, mesmerized, like a Biggest Loser contestant looking at one of those balance beams with the swinging obstacles.  "How am I going to get by him?"  my inner-insecure-runner voice asked in a panic.  "What if I time it wrong and he smashes into me?"  I considered throwing out a loud, "HEY BEAR!" like my husband does when trail running to ward off potential ursine encounters.

Just when it couldn't get any more awkward, another college student ran out of the woods behind me and down the path.  The trail-pendulum joined him, laughing maniacally.  It was over as suddenly as it began.  Now all my inner-insecure-runner voice could muster was: WTF???

With the path presumably clear ahead, I picked up my run again.  What's nice about running with the MapMyRun app is that you can spontaneously pick trails and loop back on yourself while simultaneously tracking your mileage.  I used this strategy to wind my way around the edges of the park, exploring grassy fields, enjoying manicured flower beds, and inadvertently spooking a canoodling couple in an isolated parking lot.  (It was as awkward for me as it was for them.)

When the soothing voice on the app announced: "Distance: two-point-five miles," I decided to head for the park's main entrance to complete the remaining quarter mile back to my parents' house.

I was feeling pretty good about myself.  Here I was, out for a jog on a beautiful day, heading to a barbecue where I would have license to eat pretty much whatever I wanted given my little pre-meal workout.  (Okay, not WHATEVER I wanted, but it helps to tell yourself that toward the end of a run.)  I jogged past a kid and his tennis coach and was about to exit the park when a black Jeep drove by me.  Over the noise of crunching gravel, I heard a bunch of college guys jeering at me.  (I know they were college guys because they were all wearing basketball tank-tops and backwards baseball caps.)  I know they were jeering at me because the kid playing tennis was actually pretty awesome.

All of a sudden I didn't feel so good anymore.  "What did you expect?"  My inner-insecure-runner voice asked derisively.  "You wore spandex to go running at a crowded park across the street from a State College."  But miraculously, all I heard was "You go running at a crowded park across the street from a State College."  That sounded oddly like something a "real" runner might do.  Something my ultra-running husband, or marathon-training sister might do.  Now I was a pendulum; my mood swung right back up into positive territory.  I am doing this running thing!  I thought back to my IIRV.  And I feel so good about it that I don't care if people make fun of me!  I'm not afraid anymore!

Now this may not seem like a big deal to you.  Perhaps you grew out of being afraid of high school girls when you graduated high school, and college kids when you left college.  But a well-dressed preschooler can still make me second guess my outfit when I drop my son off at daycare.  I am very sensitive.  I pretty much think people are judging me harshly ALL the time.  So this was a big deal for me.

Since then, I have gone running in my neighborhood at all times of the day.  Yes, I am the same person who used to think there was no good time to run.  I have smiled confidently when crossing paths with other runners instead of veering down side streets just to avoid them.  I don't think I look any less ridiculous stumbling around in running tights and sneakers than I did when I started running a few months ago.  But at least now I own it.

When I got back to the barbecue, there were plenty of people there,whose opinions do matter to me, to tell me "good job."  And guess what?  I agreed with them. 

No Time!!

The hardest part of being a mom-running-working blogger?  Finding time to write anything.  By the time the kids are in bed my brain has powered down for the night.  Lots of thoughts in my head wanting to be written down, but no energy to do it coherently :(  

Why Bad Habits Are So Good

It's easy to think of habits in black and white:  either bad or good.  But this summer my bad habits helped save one of my good ones.  Let me explain.  If you are a fairly new runner, like me, you've probably experienced that new-runner's "high."  It feels so great to be doing something so good for you that you throw yourself into it.  You run often, and it takes little motivation to get going.  You enthusiastically bore people around you with your MapMyRun stats.  You create a Pinterest board for running gear.  You step out in the morning or evening for a run with equal enthusiasm.

Then, about two months into it, you go on vacation.  Because vacationing with a two-year-old and a three-month-old is already hard enough, you decide you just won't run that week.  At least that's what happened to me.  But what about the two months I'd spent building up my running habit?  What if it all went out the window? What if this vacation was just the first in a long line of excuses for the rest of the summer?  It won't be, I thought confidently.  For a week I played in the water with my toddler, caught up with cousins I hadn't seen for months, spent long hours on a gliding porch chair feeding the baby, and I ate barbecue chicken and potato salad.  I DIDN'T RUN, AND I DIDN'T FEEL BAD ABOUT IT.  Here's why:

I realized that I am actually quite good at picking up old habits.  I went several weeks without coffee at the beginning of my first pregnancy.  I was strong, determined, and caffeine free.  Then my doctor told me a cup of coffee in the  morning was just fine.  I haven't missed a morning java since!  I had no trouble picking up my habit of dumping laundry on the bed and not putting it away - even after a month straight of folding and tucking it neatly into drawers.  I picked Facebook up again - no problem.  And I've been a successful nail-biter, with only a few lapses, for my entire life!

Wait a minute, you say, those are all BAD habits!  Sure they are.  But they're still behaviors that I've managed to reinstate over and over again, and they can tell me something about the way I view habits in general.  For instance, over the course of my life, I have always put off the most painful or difficult task until last.  As a kid, when forced to clean my room, I made the bed last because it was a pain in the ass to get the sheets tucked in on the wall side of the bed.  If it looked like the next day might be a snow-day, I wouldn't do my homework because I figured I'd have time to work on it cozily in the morning while sipping cocoa and watching the snow fall.  I can't tell you how many essays and papers were written in the wee hours of the morning before they were due.  Just this summer my husband and I began our 8 a.m. road trip at 4:30 p.m. because we figured we'd pack the morning of (FYI - this is just not possible with two little kids).  Yes, I can confidently say that I AM A PROCRASTINATOR.  It's a bad habit that I keep returning to, and I take credit for it.

Now let us take another scenario.  When we were little kids, my mom would lock the doors so that we were forced to play outside during the summers.  (Thanks mom!  No, really, thanks!)  She signed me up for gymnastics in elementary school.  In middle school I played soccer and softball.  I continued softball in high school.  In college I skateboarded and hiked.  Now I find myself hiking and "running."  I have never notably excelled in any of these activities.  Most of them I gave up after a few years.  Usually I compare myself to others in each sport and find myself to be lacking in talent and enthusiasm.  And certainly none of them ever turned me into the slender dELiA*s model I aspired to be in middle school.  What is my point?  That I have a habit of dropping out of athletic activities?  not committing to a sport?  No!  Instead it is proof that I am naturally drawn to athletic activity.  I am an ACTIVE PERSON.  It's a good habit that I keep returning to, and I give myself credit for it.

Have I gone periods in between without being particularly active?  Sure - about as long as I've gone managing my calendar without procrastinating - maybe a few months here and there.  But instead of seeing myself as a fairly active person, I usually just thought of myself as a failure of an athlete.  That's how people can be about habits.  If it is a "bad" habit, we are quick to say that it is a character flaw, even if we slip out of it sometimes.  But if it is a positive behavior, we don't view it as a character strength unless we do it one-hundred-percent, without slipping up.  Thinking about my bad habits changed my perspective on my good ones.  I may be able to stop procrastinating, but it will be HARD.  I will have to work at it ALL THE TIME.  When I decided to take a week off from running I didn't sweat it, because I knew that it would be HARD for me to stop being active.  I would really have to work to not want to hit the pavement in my running shoes again.

I was able to relax, enjoy the time with my family, and give myself a break.  Life is not all-or-nothing.  No one can be perfect all the time.  There will be times when I need to put running aside for the sake of family, or even vacation.  It doesn't mean that I will never return to it.  In fact I haven't missed a workout since that week off.
I tell you this so that you don't do what I often do: hold yourself to a standard of perfection that you may not reasonably be able to reach, and then kick all your progress to the side in guilt and anger when you miss one day.  Give yourself a break.  Next time you feel that you aren't able to keep up your good habits, examine some of your bad ones.  They may give you just the perspective you need to pick up where you left off.

Running With Others

So I've decided to train for a 10k.  Not because I want to run a "10k", but because I figure I should have something to shoot for - a goal with benchmarks and measurable outcomes.  (Normally I hate those phrases because, in my line of work, they are applied to spreadsheets of nameless, numbered children for the purpose of standardizing education).  But for my purpose, it helps me to have something to work toward.  My husband asked me if I am going to sign up for a 10k in the fall at the end of my eight week program.  I haven't decided yet.  I might want to do this just for myself.  Then again, it might be  nice to cross over and actually participate in the community aspect of running.

That is one area where I haven't spent a lot of time - the community of runners.  Sure, I live with a pretty serious runner.  And I have a sister who pounds out miles and miles each week on her bike or in her running shoes.  It's just that I'm not sure I see myself as playing the same sport.  They are playing Wimbledon tennis, and I'm playing backyard badminton.  I like that the only person I'm competing with is myself - it's nice to be so evenly matched.  But I also realize that there is a lot of support and insight to be found out there in "the community."  For example, this past week I heard from three other runners who have dealt with insecurities about people seeing them run.  None of them look ridiculous to me.  It makes me wonder if most runners feel that way from time to time.

It is kind of a raw, exposed sport, after all.  I mean, in other sports the uniforms are downright helpful, with pads and helmets.  If you're scrawny they make you look built.  If you're heavy, they make it look like it's all muscle.  But in running...well, let's just say the attire is less accommodating.  Furthermore, in running it's just you and the road (and everyone who can see you struggling).  When you think about how exposed your fellow runners are, it almost seems selfish not to share your insecurities - to encourage each other.  It's about all you can do for each other.  It's not like you can wear someone else's shoes and run for them when it gets hard.  But you can run next to them.

I guess that's why you see so many people running in groups these days.  Most Sunday mornings, a group of wiry guys meets on my very street for a jaunt up the mountain behind my house.  The other day I had to wait an excruciating five minutes as the town's ENTIRE high school track team bisected the street I was on like so many sneaker-clad ants.  You see groups entering in themed races and color runs.  Even on our own we seek community.  We subscribe to Runner's World and Trail Runner just so we can read about people on the other side of the planet doing something as mundane as putting one foot in front of the other.  My mom sometimes listens to Army cadence while she runs.  It reminds her of running in basic training - running with the pack, if you will.  The shared rhythm and purpose.  The sense that there is, literally, an army behind you holding you to some sort of standard.  I guess that's the value of plugging into the running community.

It still doesn't mean I'm going to run in a race. But I am coming around to the idea of running with other people. Will it be embarrassing to huff and puff behind more fit runners?  Yes.  Will I feel inadequate when they talk about their long runs?  Yes.  Will I collapse after mile three and need to be revived by paramedics?  Possibly.

Luckily I've got a bit of a head start.  I happen to know a few other moms who, like me, have kids, busy work schedules, and a lot of good intentions.  My other sister happens to be one of them.  We've kicked around the idea of starting a mom's running group for a while, and it looks like now it might happen!  Hopefully being a part of a group will help me reach my goals - not only to run 10k, but more importantly, to find the encouragement, inspiration, and camaraderie I see other runners thriving on.  

No Good Time To Run

Running in my neighborhood early in the morning can be a somewhat geriatric experience.  It's sort of like hitting up the mall before it opens on a week day.  You'd think this would make for a great confidence boost for someone returning to running after a nine-moth hiatus.  You might envision yourself breezing past slow-moving octogenarians - a mere streak of moisture-wicking spandex in their diminishing eyesight.  You might think smugly to yourself, "They won't even hear me coming!"

You would be wrong.  These "old ladies" can really truck, and most of them have had Lasik and wear killer hearing aids.  How do I know this?  If they see you coming, or hear you coming from behind, they move kindly over to the inside of the sidewalk.  This happens from about a quarter of a mile away.  You see, they are operating on the flawed assumption that it is a real runner, not a portly post-partum poser, who is about to cross their morning path.

There is nothing more humbling than watching someone's great-grandmother bushwhack nobly through overgrown hedges and knowing you won't reach her any time soon.  I feel the urge to call out, "Please!  Don't do it on my account!  I won't be anywhere near you for another ten minutes at least!"

And then when you do get within speaking range, she greets you with a cheery "Good Morning," and you huff back something like "Mornmmph" and continue to run at her for another five minutes before finally passing.  It looks something like this:  

It's not just the early-morning elderly contingent that intimidates me when I run.  In fact there is NO good time to go running in my neighborhood if you are an overweight amateur who wants to save face.  

Mid-day is too hot.  If I look funny huffing and puffing at six in the morning, that is nothing compared to the glorified walk I deteriorate to in the heat - sweat pouring off of my body as I careen by onlookers at a zippy 20 minute-mile-pace.

Afternoons?  Forget about it.  That's when school lets out.  I am still afraid of high-school girls (I have been since high school).  And the stretchy polyurethane fabric that looks so darn cute on the models in Runner's World looks downright offensive when sported by yours truly.  I wouldn't wear it in front of the popular girls when I was in school...and I damn sure am not going to start now!

But early evening is by far the worst.  The reason for that is because everyone you see out on the road is either a lean, yoga-bodied running goddess with an ipod shuffle wrapped flatteringly around her inexplicably well-shaped bicep, or else a well-meaning neighbor enjoying a beer while barbecuing in the back yard.  And the thing that makes this the absolute worst time to run is that both goddess and griller feel the need to encourage you by calling out, "Good job!  Keep it up!"

Oh the shame.  Even though you know they mean well, you also know they are really thinking, "Geez, is she for real?  She really has her work cut out for her!  I bet she needs all of the encouragement she can get.  I'd better say something positive - just as soon as she gets within shouting range!"

So yeah, there's no good time to run.  It takes a whole lot of willpower and a little boy-band magic to make myself hit the road.  That's right.  I'm not ashamed.  Though they are not NKOTB, One Direction's "You Don't Know You're Beautiful" pumping through my headphones temporarily counteracts the wide-eyed stares I imagine myself encountering as I barrel around corners any time of the day.  There's something about sugary pop music telling you how awesome you are that makes you think, "Yeah - maybe I am awesome!"  And the delusion lasts just long enough for me to complete my two-mile loop ;)

Running After Baby

"Are you running this morning?"  my husband asks. 

Yes, I'm running the risk of falling off the deep end.  

"Because I have to start getting ready for work at 7:30," he adds helpfully.  It's not even six a.m. and I'm already exhausted and pressed for time.

Whoever made up the saying "sleeping like a baby" was out of their mind.  Unless they meant the midnight-snacking, multiple-bathroom-episodes, relentless-tossing-and-turning, incomprehensible-fussing-and-weird-grunting-noises kind of sleep.  Cuz that's how my little bundle of joy rolls.  

Luckily she's so darn cute that I can't hold it against her.  Or her two-year-old brother, for that matter, when he climbs into the big bed at four in the morning.  By that point I'm too tired to send him back to his room.  Instead I drift listlessly in an early morning fog of diapers, spit-up, and ceaseless chatter about dump trucks and Thomas the train.  

With both adults in the house pursuing this hobby now, we have to work in our runs around each other.  I'll run after they are fed and dressed; he'll run after they are in bed.  It's not so bad because we still see each other...passed out on the couch.

Is it worth it - taking up this sport so soon after the baby was born?  That depends.  I used to think no.  I would stress all of the things that weren't getting done at the house, the time I wasn't spending with the kids, the lack of energy, the days running out on my maternity leave.  Luckily my spouse is a genius of justification:  I would have more energy day-to-day and net a longer life-span to spend with the kids if I undertook a regular fitness regimen.  So, justification?  Check.  Motivation? Ummm, I think I left that with the burp rag in bed.  

Or maybe on my laptop.  As ridiculous as it sounds, when running is the last thing I feel like doing, clicking through images on my Pinterest board gets my mind in the right place to hit the road.  There's something about sitting down with a nice strong cup of coffee and scrolling through hyperbolic statements about fitness paired with images of disembodied legs and minimalist running shoes that makes me think, "Yeah!  I'm one of those people...I'm a runner!"  And then the baby poops, and the toddler smears yogurt on my pants, and I realize that if I don't get twenty minutes of fresh air and adrenaline, my husband might come home from work to find me eating playdough and coloring on the walls.  I better do this while I can.  

"Yeah, I'm going on a run,"  I finally answer his question.  "I'll be back in half an hour."