The Rockford Torture, I mean Marathon

This past weekend was our 3rd marathon in an 8 month time span.  A year ago, I rolled my ankle and was in a walking boot for 6 weeks.  I had to do two months of physical therapy.  So, in some ways, I'm amazed at how quickly I recovered from that injury and that I've been able to do any distance running.  When the frustration at how poorly this past weekend's marathon went, I remembered where I was a year ago, in a walking boot not sure when I'd be running again and I regained some perspective.

We spent last summer churning out 40 miles a week and doing our long runs in hot, humid weather.  It was hard training in that weather, but the silver lining was that we were then treated to two marathons with ideal running temperatures.  The Chicago marathon consisted of 40 and 50 degree weather---perfect for running.  Our second marathon was just two months later in Memphis and was slightly warmer, but still great for running.  So great that both Jon & I were able to improve our marathon times by 8-15 minutes each.

Back in December, I was still under the influence of my runner's high from completing the Memphis marathon with a better time and easier recovery than Chicago, so I talked Jon into doing the Rockford Marathon in May (I'm always the one hatching plans for our goals and Jon usually goes along with them).    There were so many reasons to do it.  First, I wanted to try training in cooler weather (January through May in Chicago is cold).  Secondly, it was cheap.  I mean dirt cheap for a marathon.  $45 a person if we signed up by New Year's Eve.  Lastly, we had already done two marathons and it would be easy to train for a 3rd just a few months later, right? Famous last words.

I had no idea when I signed us up in December that by the end of January, I would be pursuing a part-time job at church that would start taking up more and more of my free-time and energy.  Its a good thing, but as a mom of four little ones who are still home during the day, I have limited "free time" so if I could have gone back and not signed up for the Rockford marathon, I would have.

However, you can't go back in time and change your actions, so I decided to just plod on.  I'd run as much as I could and try my best.  I did all my long runs, but my training was lacking in overall mileage but what turns out to have been the hardest part of this marathon for me was the heat.  I just hadn't trained in heat as we had a very long winter and a very cool Spring here in Chicagoland.

On Marathon Day, the start line temps were 68 degrees with a high of 87 for the day and lots of humidity.  I readjusted my goals.  No real time goal, just try to finish without throwing up or getting hurt.  Also, I should admit when I say "no real time goal" I mean that I'm not going to try to beat my previous times, but I'm not going to be happy if its slower, especially not a LOT slower than my previous marathon times.  I just can't run without some time goal.

Jon & I started off running together and were keeping a solid 9:50-10 min pace.  By 7 miles though, Jon didn't want to go at this speed and let me go on without him.  I spent the next 9 miles with the 9:55 pace group and all seemed to be going well.  Around 16 miles, I let them go and slowed down a bit myself.  I was stopping at every water stop to do water and gatorade.  I thought I was being smart.  It was getting so hot though.  At one point, I saw a ziploc bag of ice on the ground that someone had carelessly discarded.  I didn't even hesitate, I bent down and scooped it up.  I started putting the ice cubes down my back to cool myself off.  I figured it was a bit sketch to actually chew the ice since I have no idea of its origins.

During the 16-20 miles of the course, there were several parts where you'd pass runners going faster and slower than you.  I kept hoping that I'd see Jon as I was starting to lose it mentally.  There weren't any spectators on the course (other than people handing out water) or the occasional person cheering on a specific loved one, so my thoughts were getting to me.  Around 19 miles, I saw a wife give her husband a frozen washcloth that he was using to towel off.  He was struggling.  About 30 seconds later, I felt her tap me.  I must have looked bad because she ran after me and handed me a washcloth too.  I was grateful because it provided some nice relief and I wore it on my neck/shoulders while I ran.

By 20 miles, I was getting discouraged.  I did some short walking breaks to let my legs recover.  Next thing I see is the 9:55 pacer come out of a porti-pot.  He had abandoned his post as pacing the runners to finish in 4:20 (a 9:55 pace) because he was getting light-headed and dizzy.  It was not encouraging to me to see an experienced runner giving up running with a 10k left to go, especially one who was suppose to be leading other runners to their goal.  While we were walking, we saw an ambulance pick up another runner who was even more done.

I ran the next mile and did some run/walking, but a little after 21 miles, both of my legs started to seize up.  I let myself walk and about half a mile later, Jon caught up to me.  He was surprised to see me.  I must have looked terrible because he immediately stopped running (he had been doing a combo of running and walking and overall was doing pretty well).  He wasn't going to break any records, but he would have definitely finished in a reasonable amount of time and under 5 hours.

We walked for a while.  I was in so much pain.  Both of my legs (calves, quads, feet) were so tight.  I started getting side stitches.  After a while, I tried to jog but immediately felt sick to my stomach.  So I called it quits with the attempts to run or jog.  We walked the last 5 miles in.  It took forever.  I never knew that walking could be so painful.  I have a whole new respect for people who finish marathons and walk much earlier in the 26.2 miles.  I would have much preferred being able to run, even at a slow pace, just to get done sooner.  If I could have willed my body to run, I would have, but I couldn't.

We crossed the finish line at 5 hours and 23 minutes.  It was a full hour slower than my last marathon time, so  I was discouraged with my performance.  This was a small marathon and there were about 5 spectators at the finish line and only a handful of other people finishing the marathon itself (there were only 200 runners doing the full marathon) so crossing the finish line was pretty anti-climactic.  At the time, I was just so glad to be done. 

When I got home and saw that it took me an hour and 50 minutes to finish those last 6.2 miles, I was annoyed.  The goal-oriented, perfection-seeking part of me feels like it wasn't a worthwhile endeavor because I was slower, had pain and wasn't able to run the entire race, but then I think about how much harder this race was for me physically than other ones and I am proud of finishing.  There are so many definitions to running a race well.  It could mean setting a new personal record time.  It could mean that you don't walk at all.  It could be that you run in the same amount of time as before but that its easier on your body or that you recover faster.  Or, perhaps (like in this case) it just means that you finished the distance.  It might have been ugly (it was), hot (it definitely was) and painful (yep!) but I did it.  I finished. 

Before this race, I was planning to take a break from marathon running for the rest of the year.  During the painful last few miles, I told Jon I was definitely sticking to that and perhaps this would be my last marathon EVER.  Now that the pain has worn off and I can walk without limping, I know that won't be my last marathon.  I can't end on that note, but I am going to stick with my plan of waiting until at least 2014.

Instead of following a rigid training schedule this summer, I'm going to run for fun.  I'm going to run however far I feel like that day.  I'm going to run at whatever pace feels comfortable to me or the person I'm running with at the time.  I'm going to go back to where I started with my running and rediscover why I loved it.  I'm going to run with my ipod and without it.  I'm going to run when I'm stressed instead of feeling stressed about needing to run in order to follow my training schedule.  Don't get me wrong, I love having training goals and running but in doing so many marathons in a short amount of time, I think that running morphed into a chore for me more than a pleasure or stress-relieving activity.

I've got a fresh new pair of running shoes that have been waiting for me in my closet.  I hope to break them out and hit the pavement this weekend.

Mother's Day 2013

A few years ago, we started a Mother's Day tradition where we headed to Brookfield Zoo for the day.  Each year we've been blessed with amazing weather and its been a great day (even with last year's debacle where I rolled my left ankle so badly that I ended up in a walking boot for six weeks--we can talk about that some other time). 

Mother's Day 2010--The start of our tradition.

This year, I was given the gift of sleep and allowed to lay blissfully in my bed until 9 am when a herd of cattle small boys burst into my room saying "Happy Mother's Day!!"  They came bearing breakfast in bed for me and several presents.  It was lovely even if Andrew & James all my bacon and Aaron discovered that he loved fried eggs and ate over half of mine.  Its the thought that counts, right? 

Relaxing breakfast in bed.

The boys piled into bed and Jon snapped some pictures....that's authentic bed head right there.  I got a kick out of their cards that they made at school. 

This is so James.  His favorite thing about me is HIS superman moves.  I think its funny that they both said I'm "Nis" aka nice.

Clearly, Andrew has picked up on my obsession with reading and books.

James & Andrew also made tongs out of clothespins and wood craft sticks with their occupational therapists.  They told me that the tongs were "toast grabbers" so that I don't burn my fingers.  So thoughtful!!!

My new pair of "toast grabbers".

We packed our snacks, got dressed and loaded up the car to head to Brookfield.  We got another year of gorgeous weather and it wasn't ridiculously crowded.  We played on the playground, stopped for snacks, visited the children's play zoo and watched the Dolphin Show. 

Dolphin Show.  This is the sixty seconds that Caleb sat still nicely for it (clutching the popcorn of course!).

It was fun but it wasn't perfect.

Caleb was a little confused by this whole encounter.  James is looking real happy here too.

Let me explain. 

The kids behavior wasn't perfect.  Jon & I got a little lot short with them here or there when we had to ask them for what seemed like the hundredth time not to touch each other. There was still the usual needling each other verbally and physically between the big boys.  Caleb refused to sit still during the Dolphin Show and Jon had to leave before the halfway point because he was so active that he was bumping all the people around us.  We went to a playground to let them run around and soon found the twins climbing small trees (not the playground equipment) and Aaron managed to get his hands on a long extension cord and was running towards them with it.  Apparently, he was pretending to be Indiana Jones with a whip?  At any rate, not appropriate and I had to put a stop to it.

Aaron before he found the extension cord.

"Look Mom, I'm a sloth"---James

Andrew playing it cool.

While we had some "picture perfect" moments like our annual photo on the lion statue near the entrance, there was still a lot of "real life" on that day. 

Our "perfect" picture

There were diapers to be changed, behaviors to be redirected, fights to be mediated and talks about how to treat each other with love.  There was also laughter, silliness, hugs and lots of good memories.  In other words, there was still lots of mothering (and fathering) to be done. 

This is more what its like.

Over the years I've learned a lot about adjusting my expectations especially when it comes to special occasions and holidays.  With kids, tears, tantrums and fights don't stop just because its Mother's Day, Christmas or someone's birthday.  If anything, they sometimes increase because of the excitement that it is a special occasion.  As I've readjusted my expectations and let go of my preconceived notion of "perfect", I've been able to enjoy the days more.

We now take up an entire row of animals on the giant carousel!

On the way home, Jon & I whispered in the front of the van about our plans to swing by Whole Foods to grab sushi, cupcakes, some champagne (for mimosas) and our plan for dinner after the kids were in bed.  In the back, the boys were talking about how awesome the carousel ride was and how fun it is to water plants at the Children's Zoo.  They excitedly went on about the Polar Bear, the Dolphin Show and the goose that snatched a cracker out of Andrew's hand when we were sitting at the park having a snack.  Its those memories that we now all share that made this the perfect Mother's Day for me.

Snuggles in our pjs before tucking the boys into bed and enjoying my cupcake(s) in peace.

Happy Mother's Day to my Mom!

I've been going through some old family pictures and scanning them the past few months.  It has been fun reliving fun memories through them and laughing at some of my hairstyles.  Last night when I was looking for some pictures, I came across a note that I wrote in cursive.  I have no idea how old I was as I dated it December 16th but left the year off.  I'm guessing I was around nine or ten years old.

The note went like this:

My mom is very important to me.  She does things with me.  She takes me places.  She does things for me.  My mom is very important to me.  I don't know what I would do without my mom!

I'm not sure if this was a school assignment or for a Mother's Day card or just because I felt like declaring my love for my mom.  At any rate, these words still ring true for me today as I'm thirty-three years old and mothering four of my own children. My mom is still very important to me, probably even more so than when I penned that note as a young child.

July 3, 1979--The day I was born.

My mom was there when I was four and decided to ask Jesus into my heart.  As a child, my mom cried with me when the cheerleading tryouts didn't go my way.  When I got caught in my own webs of gossip as a junior high preteen, she didn't judge me but rather talked me through her own experiences of dealing with the negative consequences of gossip.

Spring 1987--family vacation to Disney.

As a teenager, I expressed an interest in going on a missions trip, but at the time our church didn't have any scheduled.  So, my mom contacted a missionary family we knew and helped make arrangements for me to go to Venezuela for six weeks and work with them. 

Spring 1996--Girls' trip to NY City

During my college years, I made her nervous with my summers backpacking in Europe but she never discouraged me from going.  After college, I announced I was moving into Chicago with no job and she let me throw a garage sale with their miscellaneous stuff so I could rent a Uhaul truck.  Then she and my dad loaded my childhood bedroom furniture into a truck and sent me off into adulthood.

Since I left for college sixteen years ago, I've lived 600 miles away from my mom.  We are separated by states, but she has been there for all my important moments and many of my mundane ones.  My mom was with me when I bought my wedding dress.  She helped me bake cookies for out of town guests and tie ribbons on my wedding programs the day before my wedding day. 

My mom came and took care of me when I had surgery for endometreiosis and thought I may never have children.  My mom came with me to one of my countless ultrasounds when I was pregnant with the twins.  She was here when I went to the hospital and found out that I'd be delivering the boys that day.  She lived with us for six weeks when I was first learning how to be a mom to two of the tiniest babies I've ever held.  She carried the twins in their carseats when we trekked to the hospital at least six separate times to get help with trying to get them to nurse.  She was there loving my babies, but also taking care of the house so that I could soak up every possible moment with them.  I cried the day that she went home.

July 2006--holding James & Andrew

She has been there each time we've added a new baby boy to our family.  She came when I lost our baby by miscarrying.  She has been there for countless phone calls seeking parenting advice about rashes, sibling rivalry, sleeping issues, and a million other things.  She has seen me through lots of tears, lots of joy and so much life.  She lets me vent about the frustrations of motherhood and to blabber on about the amazing parts.  She gives me perspective.  She encourages me by telling me about the things she thinks I'm doing well.  She visits and takes care of my children so that I can have time to myself or with my husband.

July 4, 2008--the night before Aaron was born.

Since becoming a mom, I have a new realization at how amazing it was for my mom to let me go at so many times during my childhood and adolescence (spending the night at friends' houses, going to camp, traveling internationally,etc).  Two years ago when we were planning our first Disney trip for our young family, I called her and thanked her for all the money that they spent on us to go to Disney as a child.  I had NO idea what kind of money that took as a child, but I had so many memories from those trips that I was thankful to have. 

Mother's Day 2012

I am blessed beyond belief to have had my mom and to still have her in my life.  She has taught me so much about being a wife, mother, sister, friend and woman.  Its hard to put into words all the things she is to me without it turning into a novel.  Life is fleeting and I know there will come a day where I cannot just pick up the phone and find her on the other end to hear whatever mundane or momentous news I have to tell.  In the meantime, I will cherish having her here and the memories we're making together.

Happy Mother's Day Mom!

I love you!!