Waxing Nostalgic

Last week was Red Ribbon Week at the elementary school. Each day is some sort of fun, crazy dress-up day and the kids had fun putting together some great outfits and hair. Friday, they were stumped. It was "Wear your favorite team jersey" day - but no one had any jerseys.

I told them that it would be fine to just wear a team t-shirt, but they insisted that they must be jerseys. So I pulled these old relics out of my storage chest and told them it was the best I could do.

"Where did these come from?" they asked. "What team is WEST?"

I told them that these were my old jerseys that I wore when I ran on the cross country team back in high school and showed them my last name spelled out in fuzzy iron-ons across the upper backs of each one. I told them how I could never throw them out over the years because the cross country team was like my family and these old jerseys reminded me of many happy times. "No one will probably have ever heard of West High before, but you can tell them it's from your mom's old school in California. Will these work?"

"YES!" they shouted. "You're going to let us wear them? These are SO special!!" They were ecstatic as they decided who got to wear which one. I was ecstatic. I don't really know how to describe the happy feeling I had inside when I saw my girls wearing my old jerseys and understanding how meaningful they were to me - but I was especially thrilled by how excited they were about it.

This picture is definitely one of my current favorites.

Can't Say I Didn't Tri

Me and my awesome new pal, Christine.

My TriathaMom was a couple of Saturdays ago and I know you've all been on the edge of your computer seats just waiting to hear about it.

I made an awesome new friend, Christine, who gave me a ride up on Saturday morning. We left early so we would have time to drive the bike course before registration started and we talked about how nervous we were the whole way there. (It was her first one, too.) We found the starting point, got lost on the bike course and made it back (with help from my phone's GPS) well before registration ended.

I got my body markings (race numbers on the arms, age on the left calf) and we went to set up our bikes in the transition area. I was happy to see that ours were not the only mountain bikes, although road bikes were definitely there in abundance. As the sun started to come up we took advantage of the short lines at the port-a-potties and then played the waiting game until start time.

As we walked into the pool area my concerns about being too cold were immediately put to rest. In fact, it was almost too warm inside the rec center. As Christine and I found a place to sit near the pool I noticed that the pool was 13 feet deep at one end and had a small 5 foot deep shelf-with-drop-off on the other end. I immediately started to stress out over this. One thing they stated on their website was that if you needed to walk the swim, you could. I was comforted by the fact that I could walk if I tired out - alas, I am not 13.5 feet tall. From that point until the time I exited the swimming pool I am fairly certain I exhausted myself with anxiety.

Just before the swim began a gal with a microphone hooked into the rec center's speaker system talked about something for 5-10 minutes. There was so much chatter going on that I could not understand a word - but luckily the instructions filtered through the crowd and we all realized that those with the fastest starting times needed to head up to the front of the pack. I knew I could do the swim in about 20 minutes or less so I ended up being just in front of the women who were using kickboards for the swim. I almost cried a few times, almost completely gave up once, watched as some of the starting swimmers returned from their bike ride, but after roughly an hour I was able to start swimming.

People using kickboards passed me, one sweet gal even asked if I was okay and if I wanted to share her kickboard, but I finished the swim second from last. A paramedic stood where I exited the pool and asked, "How are you feeling? Can you do the bike and run?" I told him I was going to finish this thing, no matter what, and didn't even try to run to the transition area because I was completely worn out.

I toweled myself off, laced up my shoes, snapped my helmet on and headed for the start of the bike portion. As I left the transition area a volunteer called, "LAST BIKE OUT!" I started to pedal and could never really gain any momentum because the first 4 miles was a gradual uphill slope. However, I had promised myself that I would NOT walk any of the bike ride because that would be just silly. I passed a couple of women with flat tires and one gal who was walking her bike. I offered words of encouragement and they did the same. At the end of the 4th mile was what I heard many of the other racers dub 'Sick Hill'. I shifted my bike into the lowest possible gear and s l o w l y made my way up it. It about killed me when the chain slipped and I had to dismount to fix it. Talk about jello for legs - and I still had 7 miles to go! Once I crested Sick Hill it was pretty smooth sailing from there on out. There were a couple of magical downhills where I'm pretty sure I was flying. At one point a white van pulled up alongside of me - my family! They were there to cheer me on. What a boost! That gave me the burst of energy I needed to finish up the bike ride.

I hurried in to the transition area once again to ditch my bike helmet ("Nice hair!" Allen called out to me, laughing. I had serious helmet-head with my natural curls frizzing out along the bottom. So I quickly put my hair into a ponytail, too.) and head out for the 5K. As I left the volunteer directed me to the 'after-party'. "I'm just starting the 5K," I told him. "Where do I go?" He instructed me to follow the green arrows and then called, "LAST RUNNER OUT!" (What the heck is that all about, anyway??) I started at a speed-walking pace and eventually decided to see how my legs would respond to a slow jog. It actually felt pretty good! I passed up a couple of women who were walking this portion and some of my kids ran the last mile or so with me. I would say I probably ran at least 2 of the 3 miles. Go me!

As I came in to the finish I was ready to cry. I did it. I could now call myself a triathlete! I got my cool finisher's necklace:

(So much better than the typical medal that I would never wear again!)

and a big hug from Christine who had waited there for me for who knows how long. Allen parked the van and the kids went crazy with the bounce houses, cotton candy, balloons and free food.

At this point I pretty much just wanted to fall asleep.

When I got home I looked up the results to see where I finished. Out of 331 women I placed 321st. However, the most important thing was that I finished at all since I was really only competing against myself.

Would I ever do this again? Probably not. After my anxiety over the long wait to swim in a 13 foot deep pool and a bike ride geared towards beginners which exhausted me to no end, I think I'm going to call it good and stick with running.

In conclusion: I came. I swam. I biked. I ran. I finished.

What's next?

The Running Dream

photo here

A friend of Coolister's gave a glowing recommendation for the book The Running Dream on her Facebook page not too long ago. (Hi Alexis!) Well, because I am always looking for great book recommendations and because running used to be something I loved I decided to give it a go.

It was such an inspiring book! Especially as I am training for TriathaMom. It was fiction that read so believably that I often forgot it was not a true story. I loved it. One of my favorite parts was at the end when the main character, Jessica, realizes that the race she is running finishes in the same place it started and the symbolism there - that the end of this race is really just the start of what she can accomplish from now on.

When I used to hear about sprint triathlons I thought they sounded fun - except for the biking and swimming portions. I knew that I might be able to do the bike part, definitely couldn't do the swim portion, but the run would be a piece of cake. Well, that has flip-flopped. My broken leg, although now healed, has presented some challenges for me. After swimming lessons I am feeling confident in the 300-meter swim. With some practice behind me I am also feeling mostly okay about the 12-mile bike portion. However, despite my training, the 3 mile run is now what makes me the most nervous.

But what I have learned through all of this is that I can overcome obstacles. No matter what is thrown at me in my life, I can get through it. And I will get through it. No matter what happens or how long it takes me, I will finish my race this Saturday.

The finish line will be my starting line. This is just the beginning of what I plan to accomplish.

What's Good For The Goose

The training for this TriathaMom is totally kicking my trash! The other morning I was feeling completely frustrated that I can not run farther than half of a block. I kept thinking, "Why do I need to stop and rest so much?"

And then I looked out into the field.

Along the typical 2-mile route where I run there are quite a few hay fields. As I approached one I noticed there was something out there. The closer I got the clearer they became - a flock of geese. Not just one or two, but a whole field full of them. I had never seen anything like it before. I snapped a picture of them with my phone camera.


Can you see all of those dark brown shapes? Geese! It was awesome.

As I continued to shuffle down the street I started to think about those geese. What were they doing? Migrating? Out for a morning flight together? I had no idea. But this thought came to me:

I couldn't even walk 7 months ago and now I'm complaining about needing to walk when I want to be running? If geese, who are born to fly, have to stop and rest sometimes - then it's perfectly fine for me to do the same.

So, how's my training going? Amazing.

Seven Is A Lucky Number

They are almost the same size!

It has been just over 7 months now since I broke my leg. Initially, the doctor told me that it would take about 6 months before I'd feel back to normal - but apparently he was just kidding. Actually, to be fair, I am doing immensely better than I was 7 months ago. I can walk. I can drive. I can carry my baby up and down stairs. I can do pretty much everything I need to in order to function. My scars are looking much less frankenstein-ish.



But so far, I still can't run farther than half a block. (And, honestly, calling it running is a bit of a stretch.)

Well, well, well. I don't like that voice in my head that tells me I can't do things. So when my friend Jenny wrote on her blog about an upcoming triathlon called TriathaMom and encouraged beginners to give it a shot, I started to think. And that darn voice in my head started to shoot me down every time. It went something like this:

Wow. A triathlon. I wonder if I could do that?

Are you kidding me? You can't run! You haven't ridden a bike in ages! And let's not even get started on the swimming part.

Yeah, I guess. But I looked into this triathlon and it said you could walk the swimming part if you had to because it's in an indoor pool. I can walk in a swimming pool, right?

Wouldn't you feel silly? I mean, walking when everyone around you is swimming? And what about the whole bike thing? You don't even own a bike!

Well, that's true. But ElemenoB does. I could borrow hers. And this triathlon is so low-key that I could just walk the bike if I had to.

Walk a bike for 12 miles? What are you, crazy?!

That does seem kind of crazy, doesn't it. But walking the 5K isn't too crazy.

If you want to just walk the whole thing, what's the point?! Why do it?

Because I like to prove to myself that I can do hard things. That's why. And I don't want to walk every event - but I could if I had to. I would just want to finish. That would be accomplishment enough for me.

So go away, voice in my head. You lose.

You see where this gets me? Now I have to do it. I can't let that negative voice in my head be right. I want to work towards something. I don't want this gimpy leg to control my life. I am going to do this thing. I'm going to run and bike and even put on a swimsuit and get in a pool. I'm going to work like crazy to whip myself into shape to the point where I can at least finish this thing.

TriathaMom? Here I come.

And She's Only Seven

photo from runnerspace.com

As I was dropping off my two oldest girls for Cross Country practice yesterday afternoon, Cowgirl noticed that one of the boys at practice was not wearing a shirt.

"SICK!" she exclaimed. "Why doesn't that guy put his shirt on?!"

When we returned to pick them up awhile later Cowgirl pointed out the same shirtless young man.

"I wish that guy would just put his shirt back on! That is gross."

"Stop looking at him, then, Cowgirl," I responded.

"I can't help it! I'm not trying to look at him!" she told me in an exasperated voice.

Then, from the seat behind her, Princess flashed a sly smile and piped in, "Well, I am..."




Heaven help me.

Race Day

I am not sure why it is so hard to write about this day. I have been meaning to since Sunday afternoon but all of the thoughts, emotions, experiences and accomplishments of the day remain in my brain in a wonderful jumble that can not quite be organized into words that are adequate to convey what it is that I think and feel.

How do I tell the story without making it all about me? I mean really, where do I begin? I guess I'll start at the very beginning. (I hear it's a very good place to start.)

It was on the night before the race that I finalized my running playlist. I added some R.E.M. for Chip, who was not able to make it, some Relient K for ElemenoB who was going to be tending the kids while we ran and some Michael Buble for my dad - among a handful of other great running tunes.

Early the next morning I awoke to the sounds of Coolister's crutches as he made his way up the stairs. I couldn't imagine what he was doing up at 7:30 a.m. on a Saturday since he normally slept in as long as possible. It turns out that he was just wanting to come cheer us on from the stands - you know, offer up some family support for his dad and I.

How thoughtful. We all loaded up and headed out.

The temperate weather surprised us. We were expecting a cold, windy rain but instead found mild weather that was perfect for running.

Once we arrived at the starting point I realized that I had missed a few calls on my phone. Two calls were from my longtime interpreter friends, Clint and Amy, who were both there to run the 10K as a show of support to me. It was just a few minutes before the starting cannon for the 10K when I tried to call back, to no avail. I have to admit that with over 2,000 runners present (and just as many spectators) I knew that my chances of finding them were slim to none, but we headed to the starting line to look for them anyway.

Another of my missed calls was from Jason and it was then that I realized that I had forgotten my camera. Jason had offered to come and take pictures of the race for me but it seemed vain to take him up on it so I hadn't responded one way or the other. Well, wouldn't you know it... the next thing we knew we ran into Jason, camera in hand. I was so grateful that he knows I am vain enough to want pictures for this very blog post.

Pictures like this...

This is Allen and I as we were waiting for the 5K to start. Completely un-posed, too. At the appointed time, we found a place in the sea of runners behind the starting line and before we knew it the starting cannon fired. It took us a full minute and a half before we were even able to cross the starting line. (Before I go on, let me apologize in advance for how shy Allen is around the camera...)


The crowd was so massive that there was no way I could even think about running until about a block into the race. It was frustrating at first, that is until we had reached the half mile mark and already I was feeling ready to walk. Because the race started out on a long, gradual hill it was quickly wearing me down. I was about to slow to a walk when I saw the first sign on a light pole. It read: GO GERB! I wish I had pictures of the signs which some mysterious friend had placed around the course, but this will have to suffice:


SO AWESOME! I was touched to know that someone would take the time to not only make signs but to go around and post them at strategic points throughout the race. I made it another good stretch of road then slowed to a fast walk for about a half block before picking up my pace again. When we had reached the point where we were about a mile into the race I spotted Coolister on a grassy hill and called to him. Jason had loaded our eldest manchild up in his car and sped over to this point of the race for some more photos.


I probably only walked a total of 1/4 mile because the signs and photo ops kept me going. And Allen was amazing, encouraging me the whole way. I even gave him permission to go on ahead a few times but he stayed right with me.


As we neared the finish, Allen even offered up a little prayer on my behalf...

I told Allen at this point that I wouldn't be able to make it around the track at the finish without walking. I had already pushed myself beyond what I thought I could do and my legs were not going to cooperate any longer. However, I was surprised. So many dear friends were there cheering me on! First Jason with his camera, then Allen's sister Rachel & her husband Jeremy who we didn't know had run and finished ahead of us. My friend Natalie surprised me with cheers from the sidelines, and Coolister encouraged me through the finish line. I found a second wind that I didn't even know was there.

I also didn't realize that Allen had purposely fallen behind so that I could cross the finish line before he did.


Did you know that the proceeds of this run go towards cancer research? It was no accident that this was the race I chose to conquer. There were so many parallels that ran through my mind as I worked my way through the course. They kept me going and brought me strength.

We finished 908th and 910th at around 35 minutes. But I was not running for rankings or time.

I was running because I can run. I was running to remind myself that I can do hard things. I was running in memory of my dad who died from brain cancer 9 years ago and in support of my friend Jes who amazes me with her strength in battling cancer now.

Victory.


After the race Coolister crutched his way over to us which made this, my favorite picture of the day, possible. Me, my man and my oldest boy. I love these guys.


I couldn't help but think that the only way this day could possibly be better would be if I was somehow able to find Clint and Amy. And then, wouldn't you know it...


Happiness.

It's All About The Journey

photo from laisietu.com

I set a goal last year and the time is drawing near for me to have accomplished it.

However difficult it has been, I have accepted the fact that it is not going to happen.

This song sums up what I have learned.

And so does this quote:

"The tragedy of life doesn't lie in not reaching your goal. The tragedy lies in having no goal to reach. It isn't a calamity to die with dreams unfilled, but it is a calamity not to dream."

~Benjamin Mays

I'll tell you all about it at Four Perspectives.

Bring On The Rain

The late Friday afternoon skies held the promise of rain with five shades of dark clouds hovering over the tops of the mountains. It was a good day for a race.

I was giddy with the anticipation of finally attending one of Coolister and ElemenoB's cross-country meets because nothing thrills me more than to see my kids thriving at the things I loved when I was their age.


Coolister's goal was to beat his most recent time on this same course - which he did by almost a full minute. I like to believe this had something to do with the maniacal screaming of his mother racing from place to place to cheer him on at the sidelines. (Humor me.)

ElemenoB's goal was to beat her personal best time by one second. She started strong, running in a tight pack with her teammates in the first stretch. By the time she came back around to where I was waiting, she had pulled ahead some. I screamed encouraging words and she smiled.


The next time I saw her, however, things were different. She was running at a slower pace than usual. I noticed that she was talking with a girl from another team and as they ran past me, she smiled again. I continued to watch her and cheer her on.

Each time ElemenoB looped past me on the course I caught snatches of her conversations with this same stranger from another school: Keep it up, you can do it. Just keep running. Don't stop now. The two of them stuck together throughout the race and as they came in for the finish the girl passed ElemenoB up and placed just ahead of her.


We checked ElemenoB's time... almost a full minute more than her personal best. "That's a lot better than I thought I did," she told me. I asked who the girl was and why ElemenoB had run with her instead of at her usual speed. She responded that the girl had begun to walk and seemed to need some encouragement. So encouragement was offered throughout the remainder of the race - even at the end when the girl passed her up.

Why? Because ElemenoB tells me that she gets more satisfaction at the end of a race from knowing she helped someone else finish than from improving her own time.

There are so many lessons to be learned from that.

A few tears escaped from the overflowing reservoir beneath my eyes, thankfully sheltered behind my sunglasses.

And so the rain did come, but not in the way I had expected. And it was beautiful.

One Step At A Time

(Photo from West Torrance High School cross-country team, 1989)

I used to love running. It has served me well at many stages of my life. It was an easy way to fit in somewhere as I transitioned into high school, providing me an instant family of sorts, and my affinity for it seemed to grow from there. Running was something I could do easily, something I was naturally good at. It built up my confidence and boosted my self-esteem in the years I needed it most. As life continued, I slowed down. A lot. I became a wife, then a mother. I had other responsibilities and rarely made the time for exercise in any form. But running remained a way to clear my head if something was bothering me.

The last time I really ran it was a way to deal with grief... and I over-extended myself.

So I stopped running. I had injured myself physically and emotionally. Running was something I now associated with sadness and pain - something that I did not want any part of.

That was 8 years ago, and I have been pretty lackadaisical about my lack of exercise. Except that lately there's been this one thing on my mind: I am getting older, and keeping my body healthy is not going to get easier.

Let me dispel one common misconception: being thin does not equal being healthy. For me, being thin just means my metabolism is amazing. This is something we don't hear much about because, let's be honest, when a thin person says they are out of shape and need to exercise others pretty much just roll their eyes and hate them. But I'm going to say it, because it's true: I need to make my health a priority. There is so much I need to change, but I am always at a loss as to where to begin. Diet? Exercise? Eating habits? The easy route was to put these concerns at the back of my mind, so I did.

Until last Friday.

I read a post on this blog that gave me a change of perspective. I read about true determination. About reaching a milestone & achieving a goal. And amidst tears I thought... wow. What an inspiration. And then... you know what? I can do hard things. I can set goals. I can make myself a priority.

I can run again.

So I did it. I ran on Monday morning for the first time in 8 years. It was a 2-mile loop, and I had to stop numerous times to walk and catch my breath, but I did it. I have run every day since then and plan to run consistently until March when my goal is to complete a local 5K race without walking.

I can do this, and I will. One step at a time.

The Greatest Gift

not my actual socks... but close. photo from sockshop.co.uk

We woke up before the sun, my 3 oldest kids and I. The purpose was to help at a fundraiser for the high school cross-country team, handing out numbers to the runners who had signed up for the Provo River Trail Half-Marathon. We arrived just after 4:00 am and did our best to answer the endless questions that were asked of us.

What time do the buses leave? 5:00 and 5:30.

Where does the race end? Right here behind the theaters.

Do you have extra safety pins? Yes, just over there.

Do you know where I can buy some socks? I just drove for 5 hours to get here this morning and I completely forgot to pack socks! At 5:00 in the morning? Maybe Target... it's about 20 minutes from here.

And then before I knew it, I was offering her mine.

Me: "If you want, you can just have my socks. I mean, I'm not running. And if it doesn't gross you out, you're welcome to them."

Runner With No Socks: "No, that's okay. Thanks, though."

I started to ask myself: Why would someone want to wear some stranger's socks? Why did I even offer? Besides, these were some of my favorites... my multi-shades-of-blue-striped socks made with some special keep-your-feet-dry materials.

I continued to pass out numbers and answer questions.

About fifteen minutes later, someone tapped me on my shoulder. I turned.

RWNS: "Hi. I'm desperate. I will totally pay you for your socks."

Me:"You can just have them. Seriously."

RWNS: "No, I need to at least pay you for them."

Me: "Here. Take them. They're a gift. From me to you... seriously."

RWNS: (Hugs me) "Thank you. This means so much to me. Really." (Hugs me again) "Thank you so much."

Me: "You bet. My pleasure."

And then, as she ran off to catch the bus to the starting line, I yelled, "Good luck!"

It warmed my heart to see that person, a perfect stranger I would likely never see again, running off in my (very obvious) stripey blue socks. The happy feeling came from the thought that a simple pair of socks had, for just a moment, turned strangers into friends.

I don't know how to explain it, but I think that moment was one of the greatest gifts I have ever been given.

Goin' Back To Cali: Saturday Was A Special Day

(Since I am not on my own computer you'll have to imagine
a picture of Coolister finishing his race here)

Saturday was the day that Coolister ran at Mt. SAC. For those of you who are not from Southern California or who don't give a lick about any kind of competitive running, Mt. SAC is a college that hosts an annual invitational cross country race for high schools in the west - best known as Footlocker.

So? Big whoop. you're thinking. Well, it IS a big, HUGE whoop. Because I ran at Mount SAC back in the day. I remember those treacherous hills, the horrendous switchbacks, the endless dirt... I remember it all!

We made the trip down to Southern Cali (that's what us former locals call this area - we're cool that way) and arrived the day before the big race. I had knots in my stomach. Coolister had more food than I eat in an entire week in his. We got a hotel room near the college so he could meet up with his team to make the needed race preparations the night before. (I later learned that this included pressing every button before exiting the hotel elevators and seeing who could leave the most plastic spoons in other people's pockets, unnoticed.)

The morning of the race, he caught the team's charter bus at 6:15 am. We (in true family fashion) arrived just in time to see him cross the finish line - and what a glorious finish it was! He came in with the front of the pack - his face beet red, dripping with sweat and with dirt in his teeth. It was a good race.

We then followed him around, his own entourage, as he talked smack with his teammates ("...and then I looked up, saw the guy in the red jersey and said, child's play! when I totally wasted him in the last 300...") and cheered on the runners in the remaining races.

(Picture of Coolister cheering on runners he didn't even know... he would name them as they ran by - "Good job, black shirt! C'mon Superman! Pass up green shorts up there!")

I'm not sure which I enjoy more - watching him race or seeing him cheer others on.

My absolute favorite part of the day was when, before the senior boys' race, I noticed many of the guys from Coolister's team gathered in a small circle, heads close, whispering. I couldn't wait to hear what hyjinks they were cooking up! I walked over, close enough to hear, and realized they were... praying.

(I wanted to take a picture, but it somehow seemed inappropriate.
Just try to picture it in your mind.)

This was the best moment in my whole day. I don't know how to describe what I felt just then.

What an amazing group of kids.




P.S. The 2nd best moment was possibly seeing the girl who ran dressed like a banana.

(picture of running banana here)

I was a little jealous, because why didn't I ever think of that?

CTR = Choose To Run

I try not to live vicariously through my kids. Really, I try. But when Coolister got a call from a friend who invited him to a meeting about running cross country at his high school, I couldn't help feeling excited about the possibility. I mean, cross country! That's my sport!

OK, so it was my sport over 2 decades ago. But it's a sport I understand.

Imagine my elation when he wanted to sign up. Oh, the joy! My boy wanted to be a runner! (This partially made up for the fact that he is a traitor when it comes to taking a foreign language class - he signed up for Spanish instead of ASL. Who helps him with homework? Who gives him rides? Who carried him in her womb for 9 months? But he takes Spanish classes, the language his dad speaks. Not ASL. I'm still getting over it.) {end rant}

He ran his first time trial this week. He ran 1.5 miles in 8:53:10 after training for less than 2 weeks - he's a natural!

And here's the best part: I think he realizes that I actually know more about running than he does at this point. He listens when I give him advice on the matter and that just makes me giddy.

Hey, Coolister...

Eat carbs the night before a race!

Hydrate!

Stretch!

Pace yourself!

Sprint for the finish!




Make your mom proud. (Oh, wait - you already did that.)