Would you like some cheese with that whine?

I have been "run-free" for two weeks and I hate it. At first I thought I might enjoy the time off to explore cross-training and to not HAVE to do a certain workout on any given day. I thought in place of my beloved running it might be fun to mix it up with hikes and ellipses and swimming (Who am I kidding? I hate swimming. I loathe it with the red hot intensity of a thousand burning suns). I thought having the choice to go to the gym or ride a bike might somehow make me a more well-rounded person.

Poppycock.

It has instead made me cranky and secretly loathing of anyone who is healthy and able to run. Gone is the friendly, encouraging runner who wants to paint the world with endorphins and in her place, a bitter, cranky crazyperson. I admit to cringing when I hear people talk about how far they've run. How fast. How many days in a row. How they are doing a race this weekend. It's enough to make me want to trip their non-inflamed-lower back-ed selves. When I decide to "speed" walk out on my running trail and am passed by big, plodding, sweaty guy types it is all I can do to not yell out, "Oh yeah??! Well, I could dust you if I were healthy, pal." Like I said, crazyperson.

While it is nice to know I can do other things besides running, its temporary absence has left a hollow place inside. It's like eating a non-fat yogurt when what you really want is a banana split. All of the other activities are fun but they are not the same. There is just something about propelling yourself forward for as long and/or as fast as you can with only your legs and heart in control. Whenever I can't do what I love, I am reminded of how very fortunate I am that I am healthy enough (most days) to be able to run. I am reminded of how blessed my life really is. And maybe, just maybe, this little reality check is what I really needed all along.

The Littlest Things

I am the mother of two boys. Two VERY active boys. One will wear me down with nonstop chatter ("So Mommy, this book calls the story "Goldilocks and the Three Bears" but this OTHER book just calls it "Goldilocks..." I think it should be "Goldilocks and the Three Bears and NOT just "Goldilocks", because if you just say "Goldilocks" then you are missing the "three bears" part and I think that the "three bears" part needs to be in the title because if you don't put the three bears part in there then how do you know you have the right story??. Right Mommy? RIGHT???") and the other will wear me down with nonstop movement and defiant boundary testing. (Oh so she wants me to go HERE...so I will instead go THERE. And I will do it with great speed and tenacity. Then when she gets close to me, I will go the opposite way).

And OH how I love them. How I look forward to seeing their sweet, gorgeous faces even early in the morning when I would rather be seeing the inside of my eyelids. When I return after a long day I am usually greeted enthusiastically. It almost makes being gone all day worth it. Yesterday when I came home Sawyer threw himself into my arms with a "Huggy" and said "Mommy!! I Mitt(ss)ed you today!" Even as a 2 year old, he gives the best hugs. When they give me these ferocious, unsolicited squeezes it is all I can do to let go of them. I want to keep them close to me for as long as I can. I want to breathe in their little boyness and kiss their heads and never let go. I want to take advantage of the fact that for right now, they need and want me near them. In time, I know they will start pushing back. Needing and wanting less of my attention. Less of my hugs. And that is and forever will be, the hardest part of parenting. Knowing when to hold them close and knowing when to let them go.

But for now, I am going to reap it for all that its worth.

Consider Yourself Schooled

Before I became a parent, I took copious notes. I watched others around me trailblazing their way into the great unknown of parenthood as I covertly studied. I noticed how they disciplined, how they praised, how they entertained and how they encouraged. I made promises to myself that someday, when I became a parent I would either a.) do things just like they did or b.) do things nothing like they did. I would not use formula (this was out the door after my baby became dehydrated a week later due to my lack of milk production.) I would not let my kids watch more then 30 minutes of TV a day (I almost giggle typing that now as I encourage the kids "hey! who wants to watch a show?!!' all in an attempt to cook dinner in peace). I would have picnics and outdoor adventures and lots of art time. I would encourage them to explore their own paths and not force my own agenda. These are the things I promised myself but not necessarily the things I have done.

I was a really good mom before I had kids.

The flaws in my skills became apparent yesterday. I have been asking Liam what sports camp he wanted to do this summer. "Do you want to do soccer again?" Liam: No. "Football?" Not really. "Hey I know! There is a MiniTracksters camp Liam! Yeah! You could go and run and then they have races with other kids!! How cool! Do you want to do that??? Mommy could help coach-they need help coaching! Yeah, how perfect?!" Liam: No. I think I'd like to try that sport where you hit a ball with a stick and run around those things. (yes, clearly my children have no concept of "normal" sports growing up in a house of runners/mountain biking/snowboarding types). "Baseball?? You want to do (swallow. gulp.) baseball Liam??? Are you sure?? You like to run and you're good at it too. You and Daddy had so much fun racing to the park last weekend, remember? You SURE you don't want to do that instead? I could be a coach!" Liam: YES Mommy. I am SURE! You know, just because YOU like running so much doesn't mean everyone else does too!"

And he was right. I was trying to push my love of running onto him and he busted me. And I was very proud of him for doing it, too. I stopped talking, hid a smile and told him "You are absolutely right Liam. If you want to try out baseball I'll be happy to sign you up. Mommy was wrong." And that is exactly what I am going to do even though it does break Mommy's (admittedly) selfish heart. Just a little.

On Motherhood

Happy belated Mother's Day to all moms, wannabe moms and mom-like people. I spent the day hanging with my best guys and reminding myself why I love this wonderful and often times challenging thing called motherhood.

A few days ago I read an article about "Moms Who Run". In it, it documented the ever increasing number of mom's who are running and working out. The article goes on to talk about how "today's Mom" is the queen of multi-tasking. Today's mom can get up and get the kids ready for school, then go off and work a full day, come home and fix dinner, do homework, give baths, bake cookies for the bake sale and still make the time to train for marathons, and triathalons, etc. The article suggested "Today's Mom" is a superstar of getting things done and taking care of everyone else all the while realizing that taking care of herself is just as important. Wow, doesn't that sound awesome?

I had to laugh when I read the article because by it's definition, I should be that kind of Super Mom--But I'm not. Not even a little bit. If anything, I thought the article painted a false and rosy picture which sets up "today's Mom" for failure. It's unrealistic. While I do work full time, take care of kids and train for marathons I do it all feeling like I am only half-succeeding in everything. Or half failing, depending on whether your cup is half full or half empty. Nine out of ten times I rush out of the door realizing I did not sign a permission slip, pay the electric bill or apply deodorant. I leave feeling rushed and overwhelmed and I get home feeling like a disheveled trainwreck that should elicit a "look what just blew in" kind of response from her family. Most days I am simply getting by.

Now I am sure there are moms who are much more organized then I am who can and do succeed in being the new "Super Mom" of our generation. But she isn't me. I am not capable of "doing it all" or at least not "doing it all", well. I am learning success will come from focusing on the things that need to be done well. Like loving, teaching and learning from our children. If I can succeed in that, then I will feel like a super mom indeed.

Bread Sandwich

When I was in elementary school, I remember our class making a Mother's Day gift of a class cookbook. Each student wrote down their favorite recipe and illustrated it. Even though it's been nearly 35 years, I still remember what my recipe was. It was a favorite Thanksgiving recipe my mom made called "Pumpkineater". It was a warm, gooey baked pumpkin confection served with whip cream or ice cream on top. I *still* like the recipe.

Fast forward three and half decades. Liam came home yesterday with a Mom's Day cookbook gift for me. Much like the one I made for my own mom years ago, this one was written and illustrated by each child in the class and bound together. The book was called "Favorite Recipes for our Favorite Mothers." Each child wrote down a favorite recipe that their mom's make for them. Chloe had a Banana Smoothie. Olivia chose Chocolate Chip Cookies and Liam...Liam chose a tasty little delicacy called "Bread Sandwich." Yes, bread. As a sandwich. Ken asked him, "what about all those cookies and pancakes and yummy apple pies Mommy makes you??" Liam replied--"Oh. I forgot about those." Niiiiiiiiiice.

They should have asked for favorite Daddy recipes instead.

Windy!

Out here in Colorado we get some wicked strong wind gusts. When these winds blow in from the West they typically last ALL day, and sometimes longer. Winter and Spring are by far the worst times for these nasty gusts, or maybe it just feels that way because we are all cranky and ready for summer to stick around once and for all. Today's wind was at a pretty consistent 40+ mph. And by consistent I mean, it consistently blows nonstop at that speed.

Beanie hates the wind. Hates it. Whenever we get a gusty night I cringe because I know it is only a matter of time before I hear him crying out hysterically, "MOMMY! It WINDY!!! IT WINNNNNNNDY!!!!" Ken and I have been coaching him about the wind. Telling him he is safe and sound inside and that the wind just is loud and won't hurt him. He is every-so-slowly starting to accept this information although he keeps a watchful eye and ear tuned to the window.

This morning when he woke up he became instantly aware of the wind and had to jump up on his rocking chair to check it out. He started to pout and cry and say "Mommy! Da pretty dandy-yions are going to get hurt in da wind! Dey are scared!!" I told him "It's ok Bean, they will be alright. They are pretty tough little flowers." He looked at me unconvinced. hung down his head and said "Dey are worried..."

Note: What I didn't tell him was it wasn't the wind the dandelions should be worried about, but rather the toxic dose of Organic Dandelion Killer Daddy sprayed on them the night before...but let's just keep that bit of knowledge to ourselves, shall we?

Love...

And that's all I have to say about that.

Dear Long Runs,

I miss you. I really do. I know a month and a half ago when it would rain/sleet/snow/hail while I tried to run with you I said I hated you. I said I was tired of you. I said I thought after April 19th maybe we should spend some time apart. I admit most of the time these past two months, I really didn't enjoy our time together. I found you controlling, overbearing and harsh. You dominated my time, my schedule, my legs and in the end contributed to a lot of heartbroken Saturday afternoons. On many an occasion, the last month in particular, you made me feel bad and had me questioning myself. I felt like you turned your back on me and to be honest, I resented you for it.

But here it is a few weeks later and I am missing you. I miss the kind of quiet mental reflection that comes from my feet striking the ground rhythmically early in the morning on a quiet trail together. I miss getting out on an early morning and moving farther then most people move in a week. I miss how my muscles and bones can be totally exhausted but my mind, energized. A lot of people tell me I need to find something else. Forget all about you, move on and just rest. But how could I ever do such a thing? Throughout much of the great times and most horrific times in my life, you've been there. You've kept me sane and grounded when I thought I might not make it another day. You've seen me through.

And I thank you for it.