I Ran A Marathon

 

It's true.
Five days ago I ran a Marathon.
My first Marathon.
Possibly my only Marathon. 

I am honestly not quite sure what motivated me to sign up for a full marathon this year. A new challenge? A new feather in my cap? An item checked off of my bucket list? When did I even put "run a marathon" on my bucket list?

I have toyed with how to write about my marathon experience. I wanted to share my experience and it's truth for me. I am just glad I waited a few days to finally sit down and write this. I have been pretty overwhelmed with the varying emotions I have experienced since Sunday, post 26.2. I have wavered between feelings of excitement and achievement to feelings of disappointment and maybe a little depression. Is there such a thing as the racing blues?

I know that signing up for a marathon is not for the faint of heart. It is one hell of a time commitment. End of story. No joke. Choosing to make the commitment to train for a marathon was literally four months of scheduling my personal and professional life around midweek runs and long runs.

I think the only way you can be a marathon, mother-runner is if you are a stay-at-home mom, your children are older and self sufficient, you are self-employed and you have the ability to schedule yourself around your kids' schedules and clients' needs or you are truly Wonder Woman. The reality is, I struggled big time with penciling in 7-10 hours a week for training. There is absolutely no way I could have committed to this training if I had to clock in each day from 8-5, while shuttling two young children around. I would have either had to hire a live in nanny or run by the light of the stars. Even as it was, I took calls from agents and lenders while running, scheduled inspections and appraisals while running, sent last minute emails while stretching and I am pretty sure my kids' teachers think I only wear spandex and sports bras.

Training for a marathon is taxing on your body. The aches, pains, sore toenails, sweat and near tears remind you every day you are in the thick of this thing. Pretty quickly though, your body heals, your legs get stronger and your lungs feel so efficient. You feel capable. Maybe you can pull this thing off. Maybe your legs actually can carry your body 26.2 miles.This piece keeps you hopeful. Optimistic.

The real struggle is training your mind. As a mother-runner, the first thing to get over is the guilt of the time commitment you are focusing on yourself and not necessarily your family. The pressure of fitting it all in is rough. Self doubt is a killer. Running 20 miles by yourself is very intimidating. It takes a lot of self discipline to keep putting one foot in front of the other for three hours straight, all alone. No shortcuts. No stopping. You have to make yourself complete all 20 miles no matter how long it takes. It feels amazing when you finish your first 20 miler - for about five minutes. Then your mind reminds you that there are another 6.2 miles you are going to have to overcome on race day and that self doubt hits you once again like a freight train.

I found that music no longer motivated me, gave me pep in my step or drowned out the noises in my head. My mind wondered and I would start focusing on every little distraction possible. The sound my feet made while hitting the ground was like a heard of elephants. The swooshing sound of the water in my hydration vest was enough to make me go crazy. The realization that my fingers sweat when I run and feel gross in the palm of my hand was unnerving. Little tics scratching at your brain for hours, mile after mile. Sometimes you want to scream. I may have screamed out loud once (or twice) over my shoe laces not being equally tightened after stopping four or five times in the same mile to re-adjust and re-tie.  

Regardless if I was ready or not, race day arrived. I nervously scooted out the door at o-dark-thirty Sunday morning and headed to catch a shuttle to the starting line. I sat towards the back of the school bus that morning in the dark. I watched the sun slowly start to rise in nervous silence. Cheerful and energized chatter was all around me. I just sat in silence clutching my hydration vest; hoping I had everything I needed for this thing I had gotten myself into. I felt so small surrounded by 40 or more "Marathoners." I was flooded with doubt. What was I doing here with this elite group of athletes? I was so over my head it wasn't even funny. These were real runners. They looked confident and relaxed. They were ready. These real runners.

A few girls started taking pictures of the sun rise, a selfie or two. I allowed myself to eavesdrop and started catching bits and pieces of the conversations these real runners were having all round me. They compared training aches and pains they were hoping wouldn't plague them during the race. They compared their nutritional preferences in gels and breakfasts strategies for race days. They were concerned about staying hydrated as it got warmer. Hoped the aid stations would be well stocked and sufficient. Compared preferred GPS tracking programs. Brands of running shoes. And I realized, I have been concerned with and going over all of the same things in my head this morning. The same things that these real runners were talking about.

The butterflies in my stomach were real. I was doing this. I was going to start and, God willing, finish a marathon.

My running buddy, Joanna, and I stood nervously stretching in our designated race corral. Ten minutes to go, one of the pacers started speaking to us. He welcomed us, gave us some pointers about the course and asked who was running their first marathon today. Joanna and I slowly raised our hands and we realized we were surrounded by 15-20 other first time marathon runners. I smiled. I felt the tension ease in my shoulders and realized we were in good company. I was so ready for this day.

It was a beautiful morning. I felt prepared and this was going to be the set of my amazing experience. 

The first 6 miles Joanna and I set into our pace. About 30 seconds faster than I had planned but the energy was so amazing that it was truly hard to scale back. We remained consistent and were both feeling pretty good. But unlike our normal long run Sundays, I noticed we weren't talking as much. Both a little more in our heads. We took turns checking in with the other. We were both experiencing unexpected aches in our feet after a three mile stint over a very crowned road. 

At the half way point, we were both in need of a pick-me-up. Our dear friend and fellow mother-runner appeared just when we needed that uplift in our spirits. Rebecca had brought Joanna's oldest daughter to the race and they were there waiting at mile 13 to cheer us along with some homemade signs.

 

It was AWESOME!

It was so unexpected. Seeing them standing there cheering for us all happened so quickly. Joanna and I laughed the whole next mile because neither one of us actually caught what any of the signs actually said. 

Joanna and I have always paced pretty well together on our long runs. It is definitely easier to find those miles under your feet when you are running with someone else, finding them together. We agreed that we would start off tackling this beast together. But at that end of the day, we also agreed to run our own race. At mile 16, Joanna started slowing down and I could tell she was starting to have some trouble. I felt great. I felt pretty strong. At mile 18, I made the decision to steady my pace and move on, to run my race alone. 

It was a pretty big decision. I felt like I was abandoning her. I just left her behind. I questioned my decision for about a mile. Should I have tried to be a better running buddy and give her some more encouragement for a little longer? What if something happened to her over the next 8 miles and she never finished? I felt selfish. Self consumed in my own goals not to help encourage her to finish hers. I felt guilty.

Some runners say that you have random emotional encounters with yourself while training for and running a marathon. I believe it! I have though about things, people, life moments and places I hadn't considered in years while training for this marathon. I have analyzed my own character, ambitions and self more than anyone could ever imagine. 

I told myself over and over again that she would be just fine. She would finish. I would be there to cheer for Joanna at the finish line. 

As if she knew when I needed her most, Rebecca showed up again at mile 20 with Joanna's daughter.

This time I saw her well in advance and I kicked up my heals and let the motivation wash over me. I was still doing well at mile 20. Just another 10K to go!

 

I knew that last 6.2 miles was going to be a wild card. Uncharted territory for my body. I rounded mile 21 and I was doing it. Running farther than I ever had run before. I had slowed my pace a little bit but I was still feeling relatively confident.

Less than a half mile later, I hit a wall.

My left side started to hurt and it was difficult to breath. I found myself breaking to a walk. I kept telling myself I was just going to walk a few seconds, work it out and start running again. But every time I tried to start running, my breath disappeared and my ribs felt like they were splitting in two. I was trying to push though the pain but I found myself walking more and more until finally, I admitted to myself that walking was all I could do. I wanted to cry. I didn't want anyone to see me cry, but I wanted to cry.

I was so close. Then bonk.

I knew everyone was there at the finish line waiting for me. I had obviously been overzealous in telling them what time I expected to finish. I knew the minutes were just ticking along while I was struggling and walking. I envisioned everyone checking their watches. Losing enthusiasm as the crowds thinned and all the elite runners and their families started going home. My family still standing there... waiting.

I just kept breathing and stretching and putting one foot in front of the other. Periodically testing my ability to run.

Our bodies are wired to have our minds give up before our bodies do. I knew I was struggling, but I wasn't broken. My mind was the only thing that needed an adjustment. An attitude adjustment. So I started thinking about one of my old youth kids from AHA that at 16 was just diagnosed with leukemia in September. I thought about my friend from high school's daughter who was diagnosed with cancer this spring. I thought about the struggles those little souls were facing every day. What was a side ache anyways?

At mile 25, I thought about my kids. I thought about my family and friends waiting for me and I forced myself to run again. I wanted them to see me run across that finish line. I knew the internal embarrassment I would suffer from walking across that finish line was greater than the aches and pains and my body's protests. 

Did you know that at the 1908 Olympic Games in London, the marathon distance was changed to 26.2 miles to cover the ground from Windsor Castle to White City Stadium, with the 2.2 miles added on so the race could finish in front of royal family's viewing box. I find it ironic now that those final 2.2 miles were exactly what I needed in that final stretch to get my forward motion going again. 2.2 miles to pull myself together so my family could see me run across that finish line. 

Do you know how hard it is to convince your body to run again at mile 25? It was hell. Plain and simple. But I forced my body to run. Okay, I am not sure it was really running. More like wogging. But it wasn't walking. I did walk. But I was doing more jogging than walking and before I knew it I was rounding the last few turns to the finish line.
 
I asked myself to find one last gear inside.
To give her hell one last time.

My body flat out told me to take a hike. 
It may have used an expletive or two against me. 

So, I accepted that wogging over the finish line was all I had left to give.

My family cheered. My kids ran out to hug me.

Handy Man was there! He was threatened with his life if he missed it so happy to be there supporting his lovely wife's endeavors! His first finish line!

My mom, Mike, grandma, and cousin Riley were all there with flowers and balloons. 
That crazy friend of mine was there, still holding her signs!

I really appreciated seeing her face throughout the day. Just when I needed her most. My original running buddy. My sole sister!

A few minutes later, Joanna came across the finish line. She made it and I was so happy for her. So was my guilty conscious.  

26.2 miles.
A marathon. 
We did it.

Ya know, it's true when they say that everything you ever wanted to know about yourself you can learn in 26.2 miles. I don't run necessarily because I love the feeling of running. I run because I love the feeling of being healthy. I love feeling strong and capable. It is very empowering to me to do hard things. I like knowing that I am accomplishing and achieving a goal that many others can't or won't dream of committing to. I love knowing that every breath I take my lungs are expanding and adding days to my life. More days for dreams, laughter and love for my family and friends.

Sunday, I learned a little more about perseverance, humility, and limitations. I learned that I am a real runner - even if I had to do a little walking and wogging along the way.

Will I do another one? I am not sure. 

Bad Fuzzy Wuzzy

I don't think I noticed our seasonal neighbors last year. However, I definitely noticed them this year! We have some sort of maple tree out in the yard and for the last couple weeks the tree has been crawling with these little yellow caterpillars. 

Aside from the creepy crawly thing not being a spider, weird bug or a snake, my kids want to play with every worm, caterpillar or moth they can get their paws on. 

I came outside the other morning to find the kids in a fuzzy, wuzzy frenzy. 

Lots and lots of little, yellow, fuzzy caterpillars crawling about arms and legs and fingers. 

Two children smiling with glee at their find. 

The poor little critters were being held captive by a paint-your-own bug box. Forced to do tricks and climb hand-over-hand like caged circus lions. 

Some participated in dire hopes of being called "good little fuzzy baby" and rewarded with the correct type of leaf for dinner in their holding cell, the duration of the sentence unknown.

Others curled up into the fetal position and either laid motionless sobbing or tried to play dead in hopes of being pitched into the lawn where they could attempt an escape.

 

I couldn't help but recall....

 

Ohhh but before you cry for the poor little, yellow, fuzzy, wuzzy caterpillars, I must let you know that these little babies are sneaky. The more my lovely children stroked and played with the little fellas (just before school mind you), the more these tiny little creatures began to unleash their wrath. 

Apparently, these new friends are the caterpillars of the American Dagger Moth. The caterpillar's hairs apparently can cause skin irritation. The more you touch, the more you start itching... Some people have mild itching, some end up with hives that last for days. 

We lucked out with only a few small bumps (all over their body) and itchy skin - thankfully no hives. I would say that they got what they deserved??

As the whining and complaining began to boil out over their lips, this, loving and caring, mother told her beautiful children, "Wash your hands and arms. No more whining. Stop itching, you are making it worse by itching. I am sorry, but hat's what you get for bugging and holding caterpillars hostage. We gotta get to school, now we are late."

Quick little dose of allergy medicine for my Brown Eyed Girl and a small prayer not receive a call from the school nurse.

 

Dear children, 

Please leave the darn bugs, spiders,flying things, crawling things, slimy things, and even caterpillars alone. Especially right before school!

Regards, 

Your mother.

Back To School! Back To School!

In the beautifully sung words of my Aunt Shelly...

"It's the most wonderful day of the year!!"

Back to school! I am so excited for a dependable routine and a more consistent schedule I could jump for joy! Yeah! HoooRay!

I think my kids were secretly itching to get back to school just as much as I was!

This year, Mr Blue Eyes is in the 4 year old Preschool class. His teachers are Ms Jenelle and Ms Christa and when he grows up he still wants to be a Fireman like his great-uncle Mat!

Mr Blue Eyes' Preschool had this great Welcome display this year and I need to make sure to tell them how cool it was for the first day of school. I wish every school took the time to do this! Great for first day pictures.

My Brown Eyed Girl started First Grade this year! Holy Cow!!! Where in the heck did the time go. It's like I blinked my eyes and she went from crawling and babbling to running, jumping, counting and reading! She is in Mrs Forsythe's First Grade this year and when she grows up she wants to be a Dolphin Trainer. 

 

I am pretty sure that our vacation to Mexico in January planted that seed.  

It will be an amazing year filled with great memories and adventures. I can hardly wait to enjoy the ride! I love you my little love bugs.

Little Ducks

Almost 2 weeks into Operation Marathon Training or Bust - in case I failed to mention, I am training for my very first marathon this fall - and I am already struggling with fitting in the mid week runs. Training is hard. Training for a marathon is harder. Training for a marathon while trying to balance a husband, kids, career, sleep, and personal well being is the hardest.

While training for my half marathons, or just trying to stay in shape, I have always found it very easy to squeeze a quick 2 mile run in just before Handy Man got up and left for work in the morning. I would slip out the door before his alarm went off and by the time I was strolling down the driveway he would be backing out of the garage. We would exchange a morning kiss and tell each other to have a great day. My long runs have always been on Sundays, so no issues there.

But this marathon training is pretty demanding. My mid-week run schedule looks something like this this week - 3 miles, 7 miles, 4 miles!!!

I dropped the kids off at daycare on Tuesday and squeezed in a quick 3 miles no problem. Of course it was already getting hot and I had to shower at Grandma's house before heading into the office. But I made it work.

Yesterday I was totally panicked about how I was going to fit a 7 mile run in when I had the kids all day. If I ran before Handy Man left for work I would need to leave the house by 3:50 am - ummm H-E-double hockey sticks NO! 

So I loaded up the troops and their bicycles for the very first time and we headed to the trail.

Mr Blue Eyes and my Brown Eyed Girl were totally pumped for the bike ride. I explained we would try to go 3.5 miles out and then 3.5 miles back to the car. We packed water and I made lavish promises of heading to the pool after we were all done.

Helmets - check
Bottle of water - check
Sunscreen - check
Bathroom stop - check

We were off!

It took about 5 minutes to get ourselves organized on the trail. Initially, I thought it would be better if they rode their bikes out in front of me. I thought this way I could keep a better eye on them. I think they were a little intimidated by the "rules of the trail" that we had gone over in the car on the way to the trail - stay to the right, don't get too far out in front of mommy, watch for fast bikes, how to pass walkers...

I quickly realized that my little ducklings needed to just rely on following their momma duck. 

In single-file-line we set out on our maiden voyage. 

My little ducklings were quaking all the way. Spotting grasshoppers and butterflies. Pointing out pretty flowers and noticing the prairie dogs barking at us as we passed. I got the occasional question of what something was called and they cheered as we completed our first mile.

They were laughing and smiling and I was told I Love You Mommy about every 1/8th of a mile. 

They were having a blast! And although there were a lot of distractions and several stops for a drink of water, they were smiling and peddling right along with me. One of our water stops was by the fire department's training center. The firemen were testing their hoses and trucks out. A very nice fireman walked over to us and told the kids what they were doing. It was pretty cool. Mr Blue Eyes told him he planned to be a fireman when he got big.

I was thoroughly enjoying the run and wondering why I didn't start this sooner with them this summer.

At almost 2.5 miles in, my little ducklings started letting little chirps slip out about being hot or their legs starting to hurt a little. By 3 miles I knew is was time to turn my little ducklings around or we were going to be in trouble. 

I found myself  coaching my little ducklings all the way back those last 2 miles.

The pool was waiting for us - keep peddling.
There is more water in the car - keep peddling.

I had to help push their bikes up a few hills on the way back.

I had to bribe them with ice cream once we got to the pool.

The water is going to feel so awesome - keep peddling. 

We can rest in the car on the way to the pool and then in the water - keep peddling. 

You are so awesome - keep peddling. 

No, I can't go get the car. A) I can't leave you here alone, B) I can't drive a car on the park path, C) if you don't ride the bike you have to walk - keep peddling.

Slowly but surely, breaking frequently, and a lot of encouragement, my two brave little ducklings made it all the way back to the car. 6.5 miles they peddled their little legs on their bikes. A few little tears from my Brown eyed Girl that last mile but in reality not too shabby considering we didn't have any major meltdowns. 

They were such troopers! I am so proud of them!

I wonder if they are up for a shorter, 4 mile ride tomorrow?!?

Sole Sisters

Since the very first day I laced up a pair of running shoes - of course I have only called them running shoes for the last two years because prior to that all athletic shoes were tennis shoes - and decided to make myself into a runner, I have leaned on the help of my friends to keep me accountable in my training. For my very first 5K, a mud run, I talked my dear friend Lisa into completing the Couch25K training program with me.

Neither one of us had ever run or attempted to run any sort of race. We were horse girls. Pretty much the only time we ever ran was when we realized that the gate had been left open and the horses were loose. Lisa and I started the Couch25K program and mostly ran solo because of our crazy, personal schedules. Just before the mud run, we met a few times at the local high schools track and cheered with exhausted joy when we realized we could both actually run for twenty minutes straight, WITHOUT STOPPING!

About two years ago, I got the insanely brilliant idea to start training for my first half marathon. It just so happened that one of my very oldest friends was also thinking about training for her first half. Our goal races were a week apart from each other. We began swapped training plans and commiserating on the fact that we were eventually going to have to work up to running ten miles for one of our long runs.We had the brilliant idea to start meeting every Sunday morning so that we could run those dreaded long runs together.

Accountability. Motivation. Comradery.

We bought our very first pair of real running shoes the same week. It was the first time either one of us had ever had a stride analysis completed let alone paid more than $100 for a pair of shoes! We started meeting every Sunday as agreed and something magical happened.

Each Sunday morning we met in the same parking lot. We swapped sarcastic looks of impending dread and both admitted that it took every ounce of will power to pull ourselves out of bed. Countless times we admitted we almost baled on the other but somehow mustered up the strength to find our sports bras and running shoes in the dark, while our husbands and children snored quietly in the warmth of their beds. We'd sigh as one or the other would officially announce the weeks distance, typically one mile longer than the week before. Flip-belts, ear buds, chewing gum, running app and running shoes tied secure, we would bound down the trail and work at getting another long run over with.

We started referring to each other as Running Buddies. Buddies who met on Sundays and the occasional shorter 5K or 10K race.

Mile after mile each Sunday we tried to forget the aches and pains in our muscles and joints. We tried to ignore the internal unrest between the little voices in our minds. One voice telling us to push on and the other trying to convince our body to walk, stop or just fall down and call for an ambulance. We did this by talking about life.

We talked about our husbands, kids, family, friends and careers. Not just the casual and politically correct versions of our lives but the really private, behind closed doors and shielded hearts kind of conversations.

We found common ground not just in running but in the struggles we felt being working mothers who were time-strapped and life-balance-challenged. Desperately trying to solve the worlds problems in a 24 hour day while fighting off the urge to hop in the car and never look back in the rear view mirror. We have shared hopes and dreams, greatest fears, successes and failures.

I have watched her watch her mother die this year.

We have talked honestly about our selves. Not just the people and things in our lives, but the actual  girl wearing the running shoes. Our struggles with self esteem, the flaws in our minds and in our DNA. Our purpose and our truths. We have listened to our foot-fall patterns over concrete paths and tried to accept the things we cannot change while hoping for the strength to manage the things we can.

The reality is, we have became more than just running buddies.

This weekend, my running buddy and I left the hustle and bustle of our lives in Denver and escaped into the serenity of the mountains. For two whole days we dug deeper into our soles and came out better friends, maybe better women. My thoughtful running buddy gave me this gift the night before I ran the Rocky Mountain Half Marathon.

It's the truth.
We are much more than just running buddies.

Swallowtails!

I love our new house!

It's not really new anymore. But I still love so much about it. I love the fact that the kids have real, lush grass to play in. I love that we have trees for shade and I love how our landscaping has all come together. Spending time outside is so enjoyable.  

As if the trees and flowers weren't enough of a treat, we have been able to watch so many different kinds of birds. We have a family of morning doves that nest in our trees. Our bird feeders bring robins, blue jays and other small swallows. But our very favorite... all of the butterflies in the spring and summer!

I was headed into the cat house the other day to fetch the mower and was pleasantly shocked to discover this beauty!

Clinging to the tire of the riding lawn mower, this swallowtail was still unable to fly. Trapped inside the shed, I was really glad we found him! A perfect "guys come look" moment, I ran to get the kids.

Very carefully we had him climb on to a paint stick so we could find him a tree outside.

He was HUGE! At least 5 inches across. 

We slowly carried him outside and placed him gingerly in a tree. I grabbed my phone and had to find out exactly what kind of butterfly it was.

Our new friend is a Two-tailed Swallowtail. 

The Two-tailed Swallowtail is a large swallowtail of western North America, one of several species that have yellow wings with black tiger striping. Each hindwing has several blue markings (top and bottom). Like other striped swallowtails, it has a small orange eyespot near the lower angle of each hindwing; the eyespots can fool predators into attacking the rear of the butterfly instead of the head, giving the butterfly a chance to escape. Amazing!

Hey Rah-Rah, did you know the Two-tailed Swallowtail is the state butterfly of Arizona?

Our new friend stayed on the same tree about thirty minutes before testing his wings. Once he could fly, he spent the rest of the afternoon fluttering around our yard. We saw him again the next day too. Joined by an equally beautiful companion!

Home on the 4th

Every year we spend the 4th of July at the family cabin in Grand Lake. This year we had just returned from Iowa and our Boji Man had to have surgery on the 2nd. Handy Man and I decided we should just stay close to home and have a quiet, laid back holiday weekend.

Every year the kids get to go watch a huge fireworks display. But they have never been able to light their own fireworks. Handy Man and I were reminiscing about our childhood 4th of July's where out parents lit fireworks in the street and we twirled sparklers in the air, one after another. With out any firework bans this year thanks to all the rain we have had, Handy Man and I took the kids to pick out some fire works.

We invited a couple friends over for slip-n-sliding, bike riding, moose steaks and fireworks!

It was hot! Perfect for the water slide!

Our Brown Eyed Girl decided to try her luck at two-wheels...

Almost had it a couple times but our dirt road cul-de-sac makes it a little more challenging with all of the lumps and bumps to balance.  But she's getting there!

This kid is becoming quite the ladies man this summer... I am waiting for the first phone call from a little girl that says, "Is Cole there?"

It must be those guns! Ever since we came home from Iowa, I can barely keep a shirt on this kid.

Of course we had to feed the horses some carrots.

We taught Jesse hot to play Hockey! His mom and dad are anticipating his Birthday and Christmas lists additions.  

After dinner, we grabbed our lawn chairs and headed to the driveway to get the show started!

The Master of Ceremonies got himself organized.

We warmed up with a few sparklers.

And then we headed up to the cul-de-sac for the show. The adults laughed and chatted while the kids let out joyous oohs and aahs!

Handy Man and I ticked the kids into bed that night and both agreed we were finally entering the really fun times in parenting.

So much to be thankful for!