Category Archives: On being a single parent

On being a single parent

Burn Out

Burn out. It happens. I can’t remember it ever happening to me in the few weeks leading up to a race, but this time it did. Racine is 32 days away. And I just don’t feel like training. I just want to sleep. For like a week.

I got back from Ragnar last week and managed to shuffle my way through the week of post-race blues. I kept telling myself at least I have Racine 70.3 to look forward to in just over a month. But for this week, I have absolutely zero to show for my training. My hip has been bugging me since the relay last weekend, so I pretty much took running out of the equation for the last 10 days, with the exception of a mile and a half that I ran last Thursday with Ethan who was dragging me along the entire way, telling me to hurry up. I think it took me nearly 14 minutes to go 1.25 miles…painfully slow. Literally. I hurt.

I did manage to work in some laps in the pool, several miles on the bike and some strength training. Sunday morning I rode almost 30 miles, partially in a downpour, before heading in to work. But since then…nothing. I have done absolutely zip. On Monday, I had to refocus my priorities to tend to things like retirement funds and taxes and life insurance and broken air conditioner units. All things I had been pretty much avoiding for about a month. Except the AC, that kinda snuck up on me, and I knew I needed to deal with it before the real St. Louis summer arrives. Basically, anything regarding finances is pretty much like someone speaking Japanese to me, so rather than try to understand it, I just smile and nod and go on my merry way. Then I ride off into the sunset thinking that if I just ignore it, I won’t ever have to deal with it again. Well, yesterday, it was time to stop avoiding things and confront them head on. So I did. But it pretty much sucked up my whole day and after a while I decided my Monday brick workout was out the window. And I was, oddly, ok with that.

Eventually I made my way to work. And afterwards, we had our standing Monday night girls outing…me, Linds and Katrina. Occasionally, one of us doesn’t make it (which usually involves one of those two having plans with a boy) but last night we all ditched our plans and joined up for some 54^th St Therapy. Katrina sidelined packing and prep for this weekend, Linds bailed on the new guy from “match” and I happily saved my Chinese take-out and viewing of the Bachelorette for another night.

Anyway, I had considered going to swimming this morning, but when I was asked to take custody of the kids a little earlier than normal, of course I couldn’t refuse. So, my swim workout again fell by the wayside. And again I wasn’t terribly disappointed. Relieved is probably more accurate.

I tell people all the time that eventually something will come up to throw a wrench in their training. I had a customer the other day who insisted he wouldn’t miss a training run leading up to the Chicago Marathon in Oct. I told him that chances were good that he would get sick or something would come up at some point to make him skip a run or even two, but he should remember it isn’t the end of the world. Just pick up where you left off and keep on going. He insisted he wouldn’t slip, not even once. Ok, dude, we’ll just see about that.

So, why is it that after missing two of my crucial workout days, I am considering throwing in the towel? This isn’t like me. I don’t always practice what I preach (ie-Get on the foam roller everyday!…uh, yeah, I do that…usually…sometimes…not really) but honestly, I’ve never been one to be worried after skipping a workout or two. However, tonight as I sat on my booty at the pool with the kids, eating a dinner consisting primarily of brownies and Swedish fish, I found myself considering the possibility that I have taken on one too many races and I am no longer finding this fun. Picking the hardest race I’ve ever attempted, which takes place during my kids summer vacation, in the year that I am learning how to be a single parent, might possibly have been the dumbest thing I have ever done. Finding time to train for this thing is STRESSING ME OUT!

So, what are my options…consider the possibility that I should step out of this race and save 70.3 for another season in my life. OR…remind myself that I’m human, I’m not Superwoman, and it’s ok if I go and attempt this race and just do the best I can without placing a bunch of expectations on myself. It might take me a really, really, really long time to finish this thing…and that’s ok. I might get a toe cramp on the swim or a flat tire during the bike or any other number of setbacks on the course. I might have to walk the entire half-marathon, which would typically be my strength. I might, God forbid, not even finish. And all of those things are O-K. I’m still going to try. Even though my training hasn’t been what I wanted it to be. And even though this week, I’ve been in the dark place, and haven’t particularly felt like training. I’m still going to keep putting one arm in front of the other, one pedal in front of the other and one red Mizuno running shoe in front of the other, just to make the effort. Because that, my friends, is life. It’s hard, and sometimes we have to do things that we don’t find especially enjoyable or we aren’t very good at and sometimes we just feel burned out, but ultimately, we know that we have to at least try.

I don’t think anyone would think any less of me if I decided this wasn’t the time or place for me to attempt this. And quite frankly, I don’t really give a crap if they did think less of me. I don’t need to prove anything to anyone other than myself. This is between me, myself and I. Nobody else. At the end of the day, I am accountable only to the person that I see when I look in the mirror. And I know that I’m not the kind of person to back down from something just because I may not do it as well as I do some other things.

So, yeah, this week I committed the cardinal sin of training when I bailed on a couple workouts just because. That doesn’t mean I’ve lost my discipline, it just means that I’m a busy single mom who had some extra challenges come up. But I won’t run away with my tail between my legs. I’ll stand and fight. I’ll get back on the horse and ride again. And I’ll probably fall off a time or two, or ten. And I’ll probably encounter some more things that I don’t know how to do (I still need Roberto to teach me how to change a flat tire). And I’ll probably ask everyone I know for advice. And I’ll probably piss and moan about how I’m just not as good at some of this as so many other people I know. But it is what it is. And at least I’m gonna keep giving it a shot. Starting tomorrow. Or maybe the day after.

Merging Worlds

It’s been an interesting week here in the RRG household. It was the first week with the kids off school for summer vacation and we’ve been back and forth from sun to storms enough to make your head spin. We had a grand total of about 2 hours of pool time. And seriously, the other day when I took Ethan out on the lake in the kayak it was a perfect blue sky as we departed the shore, but within 15 minutes we were hauling butt back to the house because that previously perfect sky opened up with a total deluge. By the time we had secured the kayak back in the garage, the sun was out again. I can’t keep up with the storm fronts that keep passing through. All things considered though, I’m feeling blessed again today after more tornadoes blew through last night and the only post storm cleanup I had to tend to was the repositioning of some patio furniture.

So, needless to say, it’s been challenging to train for a half Ironman with all of that going on. At least I got in a round of kayaking with each of the boys. And some yoga. And boxing. Finally by, Thursday I dragged all the kids out to the Marquette HS track for some FLEET FEET speed work.

I’ve mentioned before that as a single mom, I sometimes feel a little bit bi-polar, going from being Lindsey the athlete, to Mom, to Lindsey the employee, etc. I can’t always keep track of which hat I’m supposed to wear next. A few weeks back, my friend Dan suggested that I try to merge my worlds. I’m still trying to figure out how exactly to do that. Thursday night speed work seemed like a great opportunity to start trying. The Thursday night summer crowd is a lot of the same people that I have the pleasure of hanging out with when I lead the social run during the non-summer months. And since everything is centrally located at the track, I don’t have to worry about where my kids are because they can just hang out on the field, or even run around the track with us.

So, on Thursday, we introduced this idea. Which was needed. I was desperately in need of a solid workout. Not that 800 repeats are a particular favorite of mine, but it needed to happen. I had mentioned to Silas that he could bring his spray bottle and use it to cool off the runners. And despite the fact that the skies opened up and dumped on us just as we were pulling out of the garage, he brought the spray bottle anyway. Ally wondered why we were going when it was pouring down rain, but in true Midwestern fashion, the skies had cleared and the sun was out by the time we toed the line for our first 800 meters. I don’t envy the job of the meteorologists in the greater St. Louis area these days.

I got in about a mile warm up with Nick and Diana. We caught up from the weekend, discussed Diana’s vegan oatmeal cookies that she had consumed more than the recommended amount of in the hour before running really fast, laughed about dumb things people do when they’ve had too much to drink and we made a point to locate the nearest bathroom. As runners, this is always necessary to know. Always. Especially when you punch it up a notch with speedwork.

The workout was 6 x 800 meters. We all had our goal pace. And Cole would reset the clock every 7 minutes. Run faster and you get more time to rest. This workout is not particularly fun, so Diana and I debated our pace. We both agreed on “non-puking pace”. At the end of the day, I was pretty happy with the fact that I held my pace for each of the 800’s, targeting a 3:30 marathon in the fall. And I didn’t puke. Bonus! Perhaps I didn’t push quite hard enough, but considering how long it’s been since I’ve done an actual, real, true track workout, it was important to just get back to it. It was fun to see Ethan sitting in the bleachers hanging with the other boys as I caught my breath and rehydrated with my running mates in between sets. And I loved seeing Silas spraying everyone and smiling as I came around the track each time. Ally had opted to stay in the car with her phone, to stay dry. She is 10, going on 17.

After the main workout, Nick and Diana and I ran about another mile to cool down. Even Silas joined us for a lap or two, in his swimsuit and flip-flops. I topped out at about 5 miles for the day, so I was glad I had dragged the kids out of the house. And just when the kids were about to complain about how long we had been there, I asked Ally, “Do you want to go to Dewey’s with everyone?” and a huge grin broke across her face. She is her mother’s daughter, pizza is a favorite.

As we sat at the table, Serena brought up my blog, wondering what I would have to say about that workout. I said, this blog would read, “Tonight we ran 800’s. I was pretty much hating life. The End”

BUT…since I’m Rambling Runner Girl, we all know I’m a lot more wordy than that. And even though speed work hurts, I was definitely not hating life as I looked around at my kids to my right and my friends to my left.

It was a different experience having my kiddos at Dewey’s with the speedwork crew. But it was fun. It was good. Lindsey is merging her worlds. Perhaps this bi-polar single mom thing is manageable without meds. Perhaps. As long as I continue to get a steady dose of endorphins.

Look closely and you can see Silas spraying the runners as they go by

Fish Out of Water

It seems lately that people are constantly telling me how strong they think I am. And to some degree, I agree with them. I mean, I did remove a fully assembled grill from the back of my Pathfinder on Monday completely by myself. Which was especially challenging with the Thule bike rack on the back of the Nissan. At one point I thought I was permanently stuck as I was wedged immobile between the bike rack and the grill. Additionally, I have managed to come out seemingly on top of a fair amount of adversity. However, even the strong girl has days of weakness.

Yesterday I woke up feeling like a fish out of water. Maybe it was residual from a rough Mother’s Day weekend. Maybe it was in light of the devastation in Oklahoma this week and I was missing my kids. I don’t know, but I was definitely feeling homesick. I’ve always said, you can take the girl out of Chicago, but you can’t take Chicago out of the girl. I was missing having my mom only an hour drive away. I was missing having Britta close by. I was resenting living in Missouri, with none of my family around. Don’t get me wrong, I love my friends here, but after all, blood is thicker than water, right? Ok, so maybe Britta isn’t blood, but I can count on her like she is. I was just generally feeling alone in the Show Me State. Like I didn’t belong here. Like a fish out of water.

So, what did I do? I went to the pool. Where I could ironically feel like a fish out of water IN the water. After one length in the pool, Coach Andy yelled, “Who are you and what did you do with Lindsey?” He wondered what in the world had happened to the stroke we’d been working on so hard. It had been a while since I’d been in the pool and I’d kind of forgotten what I was doing. I’d totally forgotten how to breathe. But I slowed down, relaxed, reminded myself that I COULD do this, and eventually I got my groove back. Sort of. For me anyway. 2500 meters later, I was feeling like I’d made some progress. But this whole multi-sport thing is still a little intimidating to me. I am, after all, the rambling Runner girl.

After a quick change, a snack and a brief sobfest on the phone with my mom, I jumped on my bike to get a few miles in before I had to pick the kids up from school. My pace was lame for the first few miles. I felt sluggish and I kept getting stuck at stoplights but finally I started cruising. I went out Old Manchester, then I went down into Rockwood Reservation and on my way back to Manchester, I had to walk my bike up the hill at the back of the park. I probably could have made it, but I got scared that I would fall so I dismounted. I re-mounted my bike thinking I was ready to go, but somehow after I clipped in I managed to immediately fall right over. Umm, does anyone else see the irony in that? It was like it was happening in slow motion and yet there was nothing I could do about it. I still can’t get used to these pedals. Fish out of water, on a bike. But, I got back up and got back on the horse…err, bike. I made it back to my neighborhood without too much trouble. Then, with about a half mile to go…flat tire. Drat. I unclipped, successfully this time. And began the clickity-clack walk home in my cycling shoes.

So, now I have experienced my first flat. I guess it’s officially time to learn how to tend to that. I’ve been expecting, or dreading rather, that happening, but it wasn’t a huge ordeal this time. The good news is I wasn’t far from home. I’m pretty sure I would have had a complete meltdown if that had happened 9 miles out. Note to self: next time I ride alone, take the phone. And cab fare.

Last night Silas graduated from Pre-school. His teachers put on a very cute Circus themed Graduation and Silas was an adorable lion tamer, complete with a whip I had made for him out of rope and electrical tape. I was very proud of the whip, considering that I don’t do homemade costumes. Frankly, I stink at homemade costumes. Anyway, Silas was definitely in his element. And being a mom, I was definitely back in my element. As we were driving home after the festivities, the kids were chattering in the backseat, playing with balloons and I was singing along with Chris Tomlin on the radio. As I sang the words, “I can say, it is well” I thought, yeah, it is well. I was back with my kiddos and I had survived a tough day of things just being out of sorts. I am the strong girl. But I realized that part of being the strong girl is, once again, admitting my weaknesses, owning them, and accepting them.

Even the strong girl has struggles. And gets bumps and bruises. And takes ibuprofen. And uses an ace bandage to wrap a Spongebob ice pack onto her hand. Sometimes the strong girl even has to skip boxing and spend the morning at Urgent Care getting X-rays to make sure there is no fracture.

I’m glad to report that the strong girl is not broken, just bruised. Both the hand, and the pride.

I don’t foresee this staying on long. It just makes me feel like I’m being overly dramatic. And dumb. Really, really dumb.

Have You Hugged a Sweaty Runner Today?

There was a bumper sticker I saw on a car once that I loved. It read: Have you hugged a wet swimmer today? I have vowed to buy that for Britta if I ever have the opportunity. In the running world, we get wet too, but in a sweaty kind of way. When I found Steve after the Vancouver marathon last weekend, he hugged me and then announced how disgustingly sweaty I was. It was true. I was drenched. And I stunk. To my Ragnar “Hot Mess” team, Be warned: After running 3 times in the June Midwest humidity, I won’t be pleasant. I will be rank. I promise to bring a large supply of Nathan Power Shower wipes, but I am fully prepared for Wes to douse me with Febreze at some point.

For many years I was a self-declared non-crier, non-hugger. Well, we all know how the crying thing has turned out. And somewhere along the way, I became a hugger too. I hug people all the time. I hug hello, I hug goodbye. I hug because something is funny and I desperately need hugs when I’m sad. I hug to say Thank you. Sometimes, I hug just because.

Yesterday was Mother’s Day. It was my first Mother’s Day as a single mom. My mom is in Italy so I didn’t even get to talk to her. It was also one of those years that my middle baby’s birthday falls on Mother’s Day. Ethan is my kiddo that was born on his grandpa’s birthday. My dad would have turned 71 yesterday, but he is eternally stuck at 59 in my mind. Talk about a variety of emotions swirling around and crashing into each other all day long. The day was full of highs and lows. I woke up to a smiling Ally saying, “Happy Mother’s Day!” and then we ate chocolate birthday cake for breakfast. After Ethan’s baseball game, he chose IHOP as our lunch destination, second to Chik-Fil-A which is closed on Sunday. I hope my kids didn’t notice how often my eyes brimmed with tears as I looked around at all the families enjoying Mother’s Day together. Kids and dads sitting together with moms wearing corsages. And there we sat, the four of us, in the middle of it. My boys eating as much as they could off my plate, so I ended up with half of what I ordered, while Silas’s chocolate pancake went almost untouched and Ethan’s mac and cheese ended up partially on the floor. Yesterday I read post after post of guys declaring how their wife is the best mother in the world. I read posts by moms who had been given flowers, spa days, taken out to dinner, basically just being appreciated.

Being a single parent is about the most un-glorious job in the world. Not only are you tasked with all the usual difficulties of parenting, there is no one there to say, “Hey, I know how hard you’re working and I appreciate it.” It’s true, in our custody schedules we get built in breaks when the kids are with the other parent, but we are each required to be the mom and the dad at the same time, working, laundry, paying bills, cooking, fixing broken fishing polls, kissing scraped knees, we do it all. I did everything I could to hold it together yesterday for my kids, for Ethan on his birthday. We had a beautiful day together, but my emotions were constantly threatening to tip in the other direction.

I got all kinds of texts yesterday wishing me a Happy Mother’s Day. So many of them seemed to come right at the exact moment that I found myself thinking I just don’t know if I can keep it together anymore… As we were sitting down at the kitchen table for dinner, I got a text from Lloyd, one of my brother’s best friends. Lloyd’s text said: I know you’ve gotten a thousand of these by now, but…happy mother’s day! Yep, I had gotten several throughout the day, and I needed every single one of them. Each one was like a hug coming through the phone. So, to all of you who sent me hugs on my first official single mother’s day…thank you! To me it was so much more than just a text.

After an incredibly difficult weekend, running today felt like a giant hug. This morning I dropped the kids at school, promptly burst into tears and then went for a 7 mile run, which was like an hour long hug. I needed it. I went to Rockwood Reservation and ran from the little parking lot on 109, through the underpass, along the little creek, past the visitor’s center, up the big hill near the back and all the way to Manchester. And then I turned around and ran back to the parking lot. The last time I ran at Rockwood, the trees were almost bare, the sky was a threatening gray color, the last of the leaves were snowing down on me, and my shoes made that satisfying crunching sound as I tromped through the ones that had already met their annual demise. Today, the sky was blue, the air was clean, the trees were green and full, there were little purple flowers blooming. And that made me think about how everything in life has to go through that dead period of cold and gray. Then the rain comes. And finally everything starts growing again. Rebirth. I don’t think it means that everything will be sunny and flowery and perfect from now on, and I know that seasons come and go, but I’d like to at least believe that maybe now I’m on the other side of the dead zone. If nothing else, I know I’ve at least made it to the rainy season, especially given all the tears that landed on the steering wheel of my Pathfinder this morning.

Last night when I put the kids to bed, after an utterly exhausting day with all of my emotions threatening to expose me at any moment, I was concerned I hadn’t done enough to honor my special birthday boy. As I tucked Ethan in on the top bunk, over an already sleeping Silas, I said, “Hey bud, I hope you had a good birthday.” He responded, “It was an AWESOME birthday.” And he hugged me.

Being a single mom can sometimes feel like all guts and no glory. But it’s moments like that, that give me strength to keep going and they make it totally worth it.

Hanging with my kiddos on Mother’s Day

Epic Wipeout

I’ve been having a hard time finding my groove this week.

After the Smokin Aces’ outstanding repeat performance of a 2^nd place finish at the Smoky Mountain Relay last weekend, I re-entered reality on Monday, and I came crashing down from my high. I awoke Monday with a sinus infection and an overwhelming “To do” list.

If you are an avid Seinfeld watcher, such as I, you may remember the episode where Jason Alexander proclaimed the Summer of George. At the end of March, I declared that April would be the Summer of Lindsey. I had a fair amount on the calendar this month so I decided that any stretch of time that I didn’t have work, or kids, or whatever, was going to be about taking care of me. However, as April has worn on, somehow I inadvertently defaulted to my people pleasing ways and have tried to be all things to all people, which has left me in a somewhat stressed and miserable state as I’ve felt that I just can’t measure up. All of this eventually led me to throw a rather large pity party for myself as I started to wonder “But who’s going to take care of ME?!” Ok, I’ll stop my whining. For now. Needless to say, April has not gone according to plan. It has not been the Summer of Lindsey, but more like the Summer of Stress. And it’s not even summer, it’s still flipping cold!

Through the course of the week, I’ve been managing to get through all the activities, the projects, the child-care debacles, and working my way through that list. I even threw a trip to the clinic into the mix to get some antibiotics. Sometime during the week, I think it was on Tuesday, I recall seeing a Facebook status update by my friend, Luke Hoffman that read, “Just going to go for a run. That fixes everything, right?” Well, running can’t exactly pay the bills…or, I guess in my case it sort of can, but it can’t sit down and actually write the checks, which was one of the things on my very long list. But Luke has a point. Just like every other runner I know, whenever I start feeling overwhelmed and stressed, I need my daily dose of endorphins. So, Tuesday night, I went out for a run…in the rain. It was a cold, but puddle-stomping good time with friends. We were soaked to the skin. That was supposed to fix everything, but instead, now here I sit, still fighting a sinus infection with a marathon only 8 days away. Maybe that wasn’t the best idea.

On Thursday, I lead the social run. I started out with Gerry, who was chugging along at my laboriously slow pace (You need to understand, this guy is fast. I mean really fast. So for him to run my pace under any circumstances is painful.) I told him that I was sick and slow, so he didn’t need to hang with me. He didn’t. He took off and soon he was nothing more than a dot to me. But as runners, we all understand the need to run our own pace. As I ran, I started to feel surprisingly better. I picked up my pace. I got faster. I negative split. And by the time all was said and done, what started as an 8:40/mi pace, ended up with my last mile at a 7:20. Over my 5 miles, I averaged about 8:00/mi and I felt good. Really good. But about an hour later, I was exhausted. I had used up all I had. I think it’s pretty clear my body is telling me to take it easy and rest up for next weekend.

So, today, I decided to “take it easy” with a nice bike ride at Forest Park with my friend Nikki. After work, we kicked off the weekend with a couple loops around the park. It was chilly, but it was a good ride and nice way to give my joints a break. Or so I thought. Until we were cruising down Skinker, going along at a pretty good clip and then out of nowhere I had a totally epic wipeout. It was an impressive display. Seriously, it was stunningly beautiful. I don’t think anyone could re-enact it if they tried. It happened so fast, that neither one of us saw it coming. Just as it started to happen, I had exactly enough time to realize I was going down. Fast. And I could do it up ahead where there was gravel and asphalt. Or I could do it right where I was, in the grass. And at precisely that second, I hit the ground. As soon as the shock wore off, I happily realized that nothing was broken, or at least nothing that I need to run a marathon next week. I briefly considered the possibility that I had dislocated a finger, but since I’m able to type with just minimal pain, I think it’s probably only a mild sprain. Then, I spent the next several minutes lying on the ground laughing hysterically. Ya know when you’re laughing so hard that no sound is coming out? Yeah, like that. If you can’t laugh at yourself, what can you really do? And I’m quite sure anyone who happened to be on Skinker Avenue at approximately 5:40pm today, is probably still telling the story of what they witnessed.

Life is the same way, isn’t it? We can be skipping right along thinking everything is hunky dory, and then suddenly we’re screaming, “Mayday! Mayday! Man down!” This week humbled me. I was slapped in the face with how hard it is to be a working, single mom who trains for endurance sports and doesn’t like to let people down. I’ve taken on too much and I’ve started to slip. The quality in my performance is lacking because I’ve got too much running through my brain.

But that’s what is so great about my AITA tumble this afternoon. I was going along, too fast, not paying attention, but when catastrophe struck I was able to laugh about it and then pick myself up and keep right on going. Granted I had to dislodge about a square foot of soil from my cycling shoes first, but the point is, I got right back in the saddle. But I slowed down and started thinking about the good things that came out of this week. Quality time with my kids. Running with friends. A laugh with Nikki that has now bonded us forever since she was the one and only person who will be able to use her eye-witness account of what occurred today to keep me grounded when I get too cocky.

Sometimes life just hands you a good old-fashioned face plant. So, what are you gonna do about it?

As for me, I think for the next week I’ll stick to running. Cause just like Luke said, that fixes everything. Or, at least it will hopefully keep me from stitches, broken bones and potential hospitalization until I get through this marathon.

Rick and I after social run on Thursday. He tried to hold me off, but I blew past him in that last mile.

Chasing My Shadow

A couple weeks ago, my friend Amy Marxkors, wrote a piece about how you can’t run and cry at the same time. I assure you, this is correct. I speak from personal experience. Personal experience as recently as this afternoon.

I’ve been having a rough week. So rough in fact that when I met Faith for coffee this morning prior to opening the store, it didn’t take more than a minute or so after her walking in, and I was dissolved in tears in the front window of Starbucks as I shared my woes with my friend.

I managed to pull myself together eventually and put on my happy pants while I was at work, but as soon as the clock hit 2pm, I knew I needed to get my run on. I needed to find me some hills. Off to Babler I went for a quick 4 miles before I had to pick the kids up from school. As I cruised down 109 towards one of my favorite running spots, the tears began to cruise down my face all over again. I could hear Faith’s words from this morning ringing in my ears, “Lindsey, I know it’s hard, but you are so brave.” I pulled into my usual parking spot by the statue, changed my shoes, threw on my visor and set out on my usual “bad day route” with mascara still streaking my face. It didn’t take more than a step or two for me to figure out that crying was just not in the cards if I wanted to get this run in.

I’m sure curiosity is peaked…why had Rambling Runner Girl turned into Crying Runner Girl? Well, I’ll tell you. But first I have to ask the question, why is it so hard to say the word “No”? It’s one of the first words we learn to say, right after Da, Ma, ball, dog and car. Sometimes even before some of those. And toddlers use “No” more than any other word in their rapidly growing vocabulary. Actually, so do some adults who act like toddlers. “No” is universal in how many different languages? And even cultures that use a different word for “No”, still clearly understand what it means. We also have many different gestures to indicate “No”, some more appropriate than others. But at what point, did it become so difficult for me to say No?

I’m a pleaser. I like to make other people happy. And I deeply take to heart other people’s feeling when I’m making a decision. Especially when those people are my children. But as a parent, sometimes it’s necessary to say “No” to things they want, or that other people want for them, because we have their best interest in mind. We can’t please everyone all the time, so we really just have to do the best we can, to make the decision that we can live with at the end of the day.

A few weeks ago I was asked to make a decision about something regarding my kids. I wrestled with it. I struggled. I did my research. I talked through it with the people closest to me. Ultimately, I knew what my answer needed to be, but I knew it was going to be hard to say it. Last night, I said it. I exercised my right to say no.

This morning, I needed to hear Faith’s words, because I was doubting myself. I didn’t feel brave. But as she reminded me, I’m not the same person she met 2 years ago. Now, I am brave. Because to me being brave isn’t about being fearless. Being brave means standing up to adversity and intimidation with conviction and fortitude. Being brave means getting back up when I fall down. Being brave means saying what I need to say whether I say it in a whisper or a shout or even if my voice is shaking. I continued to let all of this sink into me as I embraced the rolling hills of Babler this afternoon.

By the end of my run, I noticed the graceful way my shadow seemed to glide across the asphalt, such smooth movements, almost like I was flying. It was actually kind of beautiful to watch. It’s funny how I was working so hard to put one foot in front of the other, sweating, struggling, pushing myself to go harder but from a totally different perspective my counter-part appeared to be going along with such ease. So there we were, two of me. Which one was real? Both actually.

It’s all a matter of perspective. Sometimes we just need to step back and look at ourselves from another angle, because sometimes we see ourselves a little too closely. So I will go on chasing my own shadow and I’ll try to remember that the “me” that is fighting to keep going is the same “me” that is graceful and courageous and strong.

Does this shadow make my butt look big?

Spring Break, Part II

We’re home. Safe and sound. Nothing like having your first vacation as a single mom start off with not being able to check into the hotel because your credit card has been cancelled thanks to some joker who tried to commit fraud at a Target in Brooklyn. Super (Insert maximum sarcastic tone here). After a few phone calls, a bit of stress and the threat of tears (mine), we were good to go. Although, I could have done without the additional headache of a stalled Pathfinder after loading up the car at check-out. Someone please tell me it’s going to get smoother from here. But the kids had a blast and I survived, so I’m gonna call it a success.

While I was away, I received the following message from my friend and SMR teammate, Ken. By the way, this is the guy I’ve had a conversation with while in adjoining port-o-johns. Now that’s bonding! Anyway, his message:

“Spring break provides a chance to bond with our kids in ways that our normal routines do not allow. As for working out, do what you can. You suffer from the same problem I do, you believe that going at life at 100% is the only way to go at it. Unfortunately our muscle fibers need to heal or we end up in the gray zone with no improvement. So take these days as a chance to let the muscle fibers heal up while your workouts are easier.”

He’s exactly right. And that’s exactly what I did. My workouts were anywhere from minimal to non-existent. However, my heart fibers were what got truly stretched.

My workouts included things like practicing the fine art of “car dancing” and climbing many levels of stairs to reach the top of the water slide. Although, I have to admit, it wasn’t just for the stair climb workout that I carted a giant intertube up those stairs so many times, I’m kind of a big kid like that.

I have to give my kids huge props. They were champs. They humored their mom’s hairbrained idea to go for a hike when it was only registering 18 degrees out. Seriously, isn’t this supposed to be SPRING break?! What’s with the excessively low temps?! But, we did it. We saw deer, climbed trees, caught some fantastic views and had ourselves a good ol’ time…at least until the whining of “I’m hungry” and “I can’t feel my feet” set in. Just as Ken said, I go at life at 100%, so as tough as it was for me to accept that I wasn’t going to be able to complete all the trails I wanted to, I needed to do what was best for my kiddos and know when to say when.

I’d have to say, though, that the best workout of the week award goes to the laughter Silas provided as he did his spontaneous poolside dance party to “Moves Like Jagger”. That kid does have some sweet moves and he had me laughing long and hard. There is no better way to burn a few calories and tighten up the abs than laughing.

Like I said, my heart fibers got stretched more than any other part of me this week. Ally and I doing multiple slide runs together, Ethan spotting more deer than anyone and his declaration that “This hike is AWESOME” and riding the lazy river with Silas; those are all things I will hold in my heart forever. Even long after I’ve forgotten various tempo runs and speed workouts…well, ok, I don’t cherish speed work at all.

But here was the part that really got me. As an added bonus, we had access to an indoor amusement park as well so my kids got to ride the likes of the Growler and the Tilt-a-whirl to their hearts’ content (and to their mom’s nausea! I love rollercoasters, but the spinning, Oh, the incessant spinning…). The first night Silas kept dragging me onto rides because he needed me there. By the end of the last night, he was doing rides by himself. As I watched my three sweethearts climb onto the Growler together, (a huge blessing for the fighting to subside for a brief and beautiful window) I was so amazed by my little man’s courage. He’s not a baby anymore.

As a parent, it’s my responsibility to teach my kids how to spread their wings and learn how to fly. But who knew that at the same time I’m teaching them, I would be re-learning how to do that myself?

One of our family rituals is at dinner time we go around the table and each say our best and worst thing of the day. We hadn’t done that during this trip, until lunch yesterday at Nonie’s Cafe. The kids said their “bests” were everything from hiking, the wave pool, going into Chicago to see friends, the ropes course, the various rides, Shedd Aquarium, the water slides. They basically made a list of everything we had done and called it the best. But I have to agree with them. My best was…all of it. And my worst was…umm, yeah, I don’t really have a worst.

Well, I guess I probably coulda done without the whole credit card debacle.

My cuties at Starved Rock State Park in Utica, IL

Spring Break

My kids are on Spring Break this week. That means, the whole week, 3 kids, every day, no school, no camps, no breaks. How in the world is a mom supposed to get a workout in with that going on?

With a full marathon, a half Ironman, 2 relays and a bunch of other races coming up, I can’t exactly take the whole week of Spring Break off from working out. Some days, you’ve just got to improvise. Today that was necessary. Silas has been begging me to go back to The Boxing Gym. Today he got his wish. I’m a regular at the 10:30 am Monday class, and today was no exception. David is always saying to bring the kids in, so today I did…the whole crew.

Ally spent the majority of her time playing on her iPhone. Yes, ridiculously, my 10 year old daughter has a better phone than I do. Anyone who has ever fallen victim to receiving random old texts from me when I restart my phone knows exactly what I’m talking about when I say my smart phone isn’t really that smart.

However, the boys were incredibly enthusiastic about the whole experience. As soon as we got there, Silas put some gloves on and went to town. Ethan put down the iPad soon thereafter and put on some gloves of his own. Ethan was particularly good at the jab/cross/4 hooks combo. Who knew it would turn into a family workout?

I wouldn’t say it was exactly strenuous, especially since the attention span of my boys only lasted about half of the 30 minute class, and that’s being generous. With 10 minutes left to go, Silas was going, “Mom, mom, mom, MOM!” Dude, chill. No, I am not going to stop doing deadlifts to go turn on the treadmill for you. Now burpees, that might be another story…

So, at least I got a pseudo workout in. By the end, I had a pretty good sweat going. And I got to model for my kids the importance of exercise in one’s daily routine. I wouldn’t say that I do all things well as a parent, sometimes I cave to a tantrum, and sometimes I get overly mad about things that really aren’t that big a deal, but if there is one thing I can say about myself as a mom…I know how to make exercise fun. Childhood obesity is an epidemic and if I can protect my kids from that, Lord knows I’ll do what I can. And considering the sweet tooth that Silas inherited from me, it might take more effort than just offering green beans at the dinner table on a regular basis.

I was planning to take the kiddos to Florida this week to visit my mom (Woo-hoo, built in Granny-Nanny to entertain the kids while I go run!), but unfortunately, airfare costs kept that from happening. So, instead, I made a reservation at a lodge that is driveable, with an indoor water park…umm, that can provide exercise, right? But the best part is that it’s located right next to a fantastic state park. It may be cold, but rest assured, we’re going to bundle up and get out there to do some hiking and exploring! The idea of spending 3 straight days at an indoor water park makes me seriously question my own sanity. (Do you think I’m allowed to bring wine?)

All this to say, my workouts this week may be somewhat lacking in intensity, but they are guaranteed to provide lots of laughs, good memories, plenty of togetherness and probably a fair amount to blog about. One week of lesser workouts isn’t going to make or break my upcoming races. And I’m pretty sure that regardless of the outcome in Vancouver, I won’t likely look back and think, “Boy I really regret that week I spent with my kids”. The best things in life are the experiences we have and the people who are with us.

So, away we will go to the water park. I’m sure I’ll return a little more crazed than when I left, if that’s possible. But hopefully my kids will be reminded that as much as I love running, and cycling, and boxing (I still can’t bring myself to add swimming to that list) I love my Ally and my Ethan and my Silas, way, way, WAY more. And if you know me, that’s saying something! 😉

Ethan getting down to business with David at The Boxing Gym in Ballwin

Silas was all smiles at boxing today

Stair Repeats and Blondie Bars

What’s worse than being stuck at home with a puking kid for two days? Being stuck at home with a puking kid for two days and making the bad decision to bake. Because when you’re stuck in a house with just one other person most of the time, who happens to be managing only Gatorade and saltines, you find yourself eating the entire pan of Trader Joe’s Blondie Bars. Ugh.

After 2 days of that, I was in serious need of a run. Especially since my calves were still ridiculously tight from another bad choice I made earlier in the week. On Monday, I went to boxing. Then I decided to go for a run at the mud pit called Castlewood State Park. Now, I love to run in the mud, but I only managed about 3 miles because the mud was more like clay that was clinging to my shoes making it feel like I was running with cinderblocks strapped to my feet. So, I gave up that idea and decided to run the stairs. I didn’t just run them once, or twice. Not even 5 times. I ran the Castlewood stairs 10 times. Yeah, that’s right, I said TEN. I’m not sure what got into me, maybe it was Kanye singing “N-now that that don’t kill me, can only make me stronger”. Or maybe it was my determination to do even better this year on Leg 19 of the Smoky Mountain Relay in April (5.5 miles over a 2,500 foot incline on gravel in the pitch dark-Bring it!) Whatever it was, it seemed like a good idea the first time up the stairs. But by round 7, I couldn’t even really feel my legs. By the time I got back to my car in the parking lot, my quads were shaking and I had a hard time removing my Cascadia’s from my feet.

I always say its two days after a tough workout that the pain is the worst. So, here we are, it’s Wednesday, and my calves are on fire. I’m hydrated. I tried foam rolling. That was only minimally helpful. I knew I needed to go for a run to stretch it out. But after sitting around watching TV and eating Blondie Bars for 30some hours, I was severely lacking motivation and energy to get off the bar stool my butt had become glued to. I needed to tap into another source. Question: What is in perpetual motion and has the energy of a puppy on steroids? Answer: My 7 year old. So, after I picked the older kids up from school, I said, “Hey Ethan, you wanna go for a run around the lake with me?” He said, yeah, sure, but could I wait 10 minutes for him to get ready. Uh, yeah, cause I’m gonna need at least that long to get motivated to do this. It’s only 1.25 miles around the little lake we live on. It really shouldn’t be this challenging. I figured we’d go around twice, maybe three times. So, we got ready, we went around the lake once, plus a little more, for a total of 1.59 miles. We didn’t even run the whole thing because E kept getting a side cramp and needing to walk it off. I don’t think either one of us broke a sweat. I’m not sure I burned more than 15 calories. And my calves are still killing me.

So, what’s the moral of this story? I have absolutely no idea. I guess it’s don’t run stairs repeats at Castlewood when you’re going to be stuck at home eating Blondie Bars for two days.

Man I can’t wait to get out there and log some miles tomorrow. But I think I might stay away from hills for another day or so. And I foresee see a big salad in my future.

Ethan and I after his first 5k in November 2012

7 Mile Trail, Recovery Run?

On this perfectly, amazing President’s Day morning, I had the privilege of showing my friend, Nicole, some of my favorite parts of Castlewood State Park. We had originally planned to meet on Saturday, but it got pushed to today. And we had originally planned to run 9ish miles…maybe more. However, since I ran 15 on Saturday and she ran 14 yesterday (she’s training for the Flying Pig in Cincinnati the same weekend I’m running Vancouver), we decided not to overdo it. We wanted to tackle some of the hills, but we took it pretty easy, nice and slow and decided on a shorter route. We did a 4 mile loop, ended up back at the parking lot and felt pretty good so we went a few more. Nothing like calling a 7 mile trail run a recovery run, but that summed it up well for both of us. The weather, the scenery and the company were all perfect. Ya can’t ask for more than that.

Funny side story-Nicole calls me LJ, so I was telling her that one of my other friends who calls me LJ put me into the calendar on her phone recently and auto-correct decided my new name is Lulujamba. Not sure where that came from, but I kinda like it. Anyway, then Nicole said that last night when she told her hubby she was running with LJ, he was like…What?! Who’s that?! She said, “Lindsey J, from Fleet Feet”. There used to be 2 Lindsey’s at the store, then for a brief period there were 3 of us, and now we’re back to 2; but it gets complicated so we are ever coming up with new names for each other. Lindsey Harris and I call each other “H” and “J”, respectively. And Lindsey Farrel is just “Farrel”. Anyway, Nicole’s hubby was glad to hear that his wife was not going off to the woods for some alone time with who he had pictured in his mind for “LJ” and that I am, in fact, not a well-built, black man. Quite the opposite, actually.

So, near the end of our run, I was telling Nicole that last night I registered for the Smoky Mountain Relay. This was a race I ran a year ago with the Smokin’ Aces, an awesome group of 8 other peeps who came along right when I needed them, people who went from being strangers to friends, literally overnight. I was at a pretty low point back then, and that group taught me so much about camaraderie, compassion and confidence, both in other people and in myself. I get emotional thinking about that weekend in the mountains and what that experience meant to me. The Aces are gearing up for the 2013 relay, and we’ve got several returning members. A few have had to bail, due to little things like pregnancies and babies and injuries and such, but the majority of the team should be back and we’ve stacked the deck with some additional players.

But I was telling Nicole, I kind of struggled with what to do this year. Ya see, this time, the Smoky Mountain Relay, falls on a weekend that I have custody of my kiddos. So, I’m going to have to give up some time with them to go do this. It’s a sacrifice, but it’s also a choice. I’ve been known to struggle with “Mom Guilt” from time to time. But something in me was pulling me to do this relay again. Most of my races involve me going out and pushing myself to do my best and then I’m done. This is different. I have to rely on my teammates, and they have to rely on me. We have to work together, but we also have an incredible amount of fun in the process. This is a race that I really, REALLY want to go do. And so, I’m going. After I told Nicole this, she said she distinctly remembers a time when she was little that her mom was struggling with some things and her mom said to her, “Sometimes, as a parent, you have to do things that are good for your soul.” And that’s exactly what the SMR is for me. It’s good for my soul. Obviously, I want to do well for my team, but there is so much more to it. Being in the Smoky Mountains with friends who cheer me on in running and in life, friends who I can have a conversation with while we’re in adjoining port-a-johns, friends who will let me curl up and nap on them in a van after I’m all sweaty and haven’t showered, friends who will make me Ramen noodles at 2am, friends who accept me just as I am and love me in spite of myself. That’s good for my soul.

On April 19, 2013, the Smokin’ Aces will reconvene in the Smokies and we will be gunning for the only team that took us down last year. Look out Maggots, the Aces are coming for you!

And now for your additional reading pleasure…or if you’re just bored at work and find my ramblings entertaining, I am including something I wrote upon returning home from North Carolina last year, following SMR 2012. Enjoy…

All I Ever Really Needed to Know About Life, I Learned from the Smoky Mountain Relay…

You are even stronger and more capable than you realize ~ True hospitality is welcoming strangers into your house, when you’re not even there ~ When given the choice, go ahead and start an hour early ~ Take the road less traveled every once in a while ~ There are people who are willing to help you, if you let them ~ Easy does not necessarily mean flat ~ Peanut Butter, Nutella and bananas on tortillas are a great combination ~ If you are going to fall out of the van, make sure you’re wearing pants ~ It’s good to be flexible with the schedule ~ Just because you catch a toad, doesn’t mean you’ve found a prince ~ Sometimes you have to blaze an unmarked trail ~ No hair makes you more aerodynamic ~ Its possible to go so fast you feel like you’re flying ~ A sleeve makes a good neck warmer ~ Maggots suck it ~ Don’t forget the Nathan wipes ~ Horses are a little creepy, especially at night ~ You can soak up so much that you get a little soggy ~ Homegrown sausage is delicious ~ You get really comfortable with strangers after 30 hours in a van ~ There are people who will go into the woods to find you and push you up the hill when you can’t do it on your own ~ Mike Hunt is really hard to find ~ Primally-epic is a word, isn’t it? ~ If you feel a little nauseous, eat some chips ~ No matter how bad things may seem, don’t forget to look around and appreciate something amazing ~ Take the map and follow the directions ~ Sometimes you just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other ~ Bring an extra pair of socks…or 3 ~ Ramen noodles are not as good luke warm ~ Don’t opt out of a challenge ~ It’s good to be nice to the other teams…at least externally ~ Slap bracelets are still fun ~ Spreadsheets were made to be updated…annnnnd sometimes not ~It’s good to stop and enjoy the view along the way ~ If you’ve got enough energy left to throw a tantrum, you obviously didn’t run hard enough ~ Don’t leave the M&M’s next to the heater ~ Things don’t always go the way you plan, sometimes you have to adapt ~ Personify awesomeness ~ How fast you make the climb is not nearly as important as who is waiting for you when you get to the top!

Craig~Jan~ Jordan~Ken~Lindsey~Mark~Matt~Nate O~Nathan A…Smokin’ Aces 2012

Smokin’ Aces

Nicole and LJ…couple of Badass Divas.

LJ and Notarious A…who is mysteriously missing from the Smokin Aces group shot. Classic.