Apparently, there is this thing called “Runner’s Toe”. It’s not very pretty. I had to go to the doctor to get the nail *drained*, which is about as nice as it sounds. Then I got to do it again at home by myself. And now, I get to wait for the nail to fall off completely.
Good times.
In the meantime, I think I’ll invest in some spanky nail polish.
How dark do you think I’d have to go to cover that up…
Yes, I am aware that the little guy is wearing a hoody and a diaper. I don’t have an explanation for that.
Here at the crazy Berry farm, pencil crayons are swords…
1yr olds are kung-foo artists…
and 5yr olds get attacked and beaten by people much smaller than them.
After all, the pen pencil crayon is mightier than the sword, right?
I’m not really sure what happened. The first part of my race went perfectly – better, even, than I was hoping. And with 5K to go I kind of, well, fell apart. I think that if my friend Jan hadn’t been there with me I would have just sat down on the curb and cried. Because I really really wanted to.
Today I’ve gone about my day smiling when people ask me how it went, and saying fine, I had lots of fun, because I did. But truth be told, I’m disappointed. And I kind of shouldn’t be. But I am.
I had three goals (I’m a big fan of the fallback plan): the basic goal was to simply beat my previous best time for the Half Marathon, which was 2:11:07. The second goal was to be able to run it in 2:05. The third and most glorious goal was to run it in 2 hours. I know, 5 minutes here and there doesn’t seem like a big deal, but it is. Just trust me.
So I came in at 2:09:58. Check to goal 1. Big fat X for 2 & 3. So, on the one hand, yay. But on the other hand, boo.
So that’s my complaining out of the way.
On a more positive note, the day was perfect! I woke up (ridiculously early) to the sound of birds chirping and the sun shining. I headed over to my friend Jan’s house in town and made lattes for her, her husband, and myself, and then we all piled into their car with their oldest daughter and one other friend and headed out for the city. We made it to the race barely on time, and then had to wait around anyway as they delayed the start a bit to accommodate those who were still trying to get through the traffic jam. The sky clouded over a bit, which was perfect (not too hot then) and Jan and I started out on our run.
I loved running with her – it was so great. I’ve never raced with a friend before, and I really loved it. We chatted a bit in the beginning, we laughed at some of the funny/strange things that we saw, we reminded each other to relax our shoulders, and then we hit the 16K marker. That was about when I started contemplating puking. Shortly after that I started to get the “running through wet cement” feeling. Both feelings came and went, but by 18K I was ready to quit and cry. And Jan pulled me through – she kept reminding me of the stuff I told her about at the beginning of the race; what Suzy’s son said to her, the Henry Ford quote, and how Suzy had told me the night before that it was going to hurt for the next two days anyway, so I may as well make it worth it. And she reminded me that Berry Guy and the boys were waiting for me at the finish line. So I kept going, and when I saw all my boys standing on the sidelines waving at me, I cried and ran as hard as I could over those last 100 meters (or so). And then I tried not to dry heave after they draped my finisher’s medal around my neck.
We went for brunch with Jan and her husband and daughter (the two of them had run the 10K) and spent more than an hour talking and joking together. It was great. I picked up my Caramel Macchiato after (full fat milk, triple shot, extra hot) and we headed home, and not even three shots of espresso were enough to keep me awake when we got there – I crashed with Berry Baby for two hours before I’d even hit the shower.
I’m not quite satisfied, which is not necessarily a bad thing. As in my spiritual walk, it’s never a good thing to become complacent. So I will keep trying. I will keep trying to improve as a runner, just I as keep trying to improve as a mother, and as a wife, and as a child of God. If we don’t keep reaching forward, we fall backward. And so here, as in all the other areas of my life, I will keep reaching forward.
This is probably close to what I looked like the last few kilometers (note how Jan is sill fresh. Note also our matching capris…*special*)
and this is pretty much what Jan was doing for the last 5K…
I remember the last time I toed the starting line (so to speak) at the Saskatoon Half-marathon. I was nervous, as I always am before any big run, and my friend Jaclyn was standing beside me all calm and poised, ready to run her 10k.
I told her that I was feeling jittery, and she asked me why? I told her that I was afraid of having a bad run, and she said “ahh, every run is a good run”.
And she’s right.
Because the very fact that I can run makes every run a good run. The fact that I have legs that move, lungs that breathe, and a heart that can pump my blood fast enough to keep me moving makes it a good run. Because there are some people who would love to run – even to be able to have a bad run, and who can’t.
I was so thankful that she said that to me at that moment, and I ended up running a personal best, both in time and in effort. And every time I started to slow down or feel fatigued, I recalled those words and I ran stronger.
This time, I have new motivation. And it comes from Suzy over at The Runs. She posted this the other day:
“If you say you will, you will. If you say you won’t, you won’t”
It reminded me of something that I’d read in one of my running magazines – a quote from Henry Ford:
“Whether you think you can or you can’t, you’re right”
I love it. I will be thinking of these quotes as I pursue my 2-hour goal time, even though I am pretty sure it’s out of my reach. But, if I think that it’s out of reach, then it is. So I will change my thinking, and I will run my hardest, and I will think of Suzy and her quote. And then I will run a little harder.
Hmmmm. Haven’t had a Thankful day in quite a while, and let me tell you, it’s showing. Or, at least, my estrogen is showing, given my sarcasm and snippiness the last day or two.
So here goes. Today, I am thankful:
for the bedding plants that I got for a steal at Canadian Tire the other day, which were looking a little worse for wear but are now looking very nice. For this Cliantro…
and this Thyme and Garlic Chive
and for these pretty annuals that Berry Boy enthusiastically helped me pick out and that Berry Baby enthusiastically tried to pull apart, and for the fact that the sun is FINALLY shining and I can move these plants off my counter and out onto the deck.
I am thankful for these amazing *perennials* (I have no guarantee that they will make it through our winter, but I had to get them anyway) that I purchased over 2 months ago at the annual Garden Show, at the time failing to realize that I would have to keep them alive inside for the next two months. Outside plants I can do…inside plants, not so much. It’s Heather, and it was a plant unlike any I had ever seen before. I’m just hoping it makes it into the ground and survives for at least one winter….
I am thankful for these boys…
who do these crazy things..
which makes me thankful for this…
every morning…and afternoon…and later afternoon…and sometimes evenings.
I am thankful that I am now a good two weeks off of these…
the antidepressant, and I’m feeling ok. I am so very very thankful for this, because when I started I was a little panicky that I would be “brutal” and “horrible” and that my family would suffer for it. I’m not, they aren’t, and God is being good to me.
I am thankful for this sun…
that is forecasted for Sunday, the day of the Half-Marathon. And for the sun that is shining right now. Beautiful.
What’s on your thankful list today?
#1. “Are you going to go for a run today?”
this means: “you really look fat like you need to go for a run today”
#2. “How far did you run?” followed by “That’s all?”
this means: you did not run far enough to run off the ice cream I saw you scarfing down earlier
#3. “Have you showered yet” (when you have just stepped out of the shower and have blow-dried your hair nicely)
this means: I look as bad freshly cleaned as I do not freshly cleaned
#4. “Are you wearing that to church?”
no mistake here – he just hates the outfit
#5. “Is that all we’re having for supper”
this means: “you have grossly underplanned our meal” or “am I really going to have to eat that”
I will now excuse myself to eat chocolate smothered ice cream.
thank you.
It seems that all my warnings have been for naught.
Apparently, we are no longer afraid of getting croup.
*sigh*
SEVEN more days until my half-marathon. I can’t believe it’s almost here. I can’t believe that NOW is the moment when I have to fight off a cold. Fantastic.
Due to my “cold”, I am having a nice, loooooong taper. A taper usually doesn’t start until the week before the race (for a half-marathon, anyway). It’s when you start to relax a bit, do a few shorter easy runs, to give your body a bit of a break before you attempt to destroy it during the race. MY taper started after my last long run on Sunday…a week ago. *sigh*
Since I have all this free time on my hands, I’ve been reflecting a bit about running, and how I came to love it, and my first races…
I went for my first “run” when I was about 10 years old. We were visiting my Grandma in Clearbrook, and my Dad was getting into exercise at the time, and he was getting ready to go out for a “jog”. I begged to go with, and we “jogged” together. I don’t remember how long or far we went, just that I was thrilled beyond belief to be doing this thing with my Dad.
Before I ever went on that run, I used to watch my older sister (older than me by 8 years) do laps around the park in front of our house. I’m pretty sure she did not enjoy it, but I can remember watching her out the front window and thinking how cool she was. I wanted to do that too.
I ran a little out of High School, but wasn’t really consistent about it until my University days. Then, I ran to keep off that dreaded “freshman 15”, and to burn stress. 20 minutes always seemed plenty long enough, and even through the rotation of roommates there was always someone who would run with me.
After a while, 20 minutes became 30, and suddenly it felt like if I couldn’t run at least 30 minutes, then there was just no point. And then I thought, hey, I can run for 35 minutes…I should sign up for a 10k.
*cough cough*
yeah, I had no idea.
During my first 10k race in my first pair of real running shorts and my first technical t-shirt, I was in serious danger of being overtaken by three much older women who were basically speed walking and chatting merrily to each other while I was struggling to put one foot in front of another and not pass out. My only focus became NOT being passed by those women. I wasn’t, but you know you must be looking bad when a race official stops their car beside you and asks you if you’re ok. Not. Looking. Good.
I finished that race, and strangely enough I was hooked. I started reading running magazines and learned that it might be helpful to train for something like a 10k. Who knew. So I started training, and I ran a few more 10ks.
And then I thought I’d try a half marathon. I trained with my friend Genine, who lived in a different city at the time, so we did the same workouts and emailed each other regularly. And when we ran (down in Regina) it was the most fun I’d ever had. I loved it – everything about it. I loved the training, the discipline of steadily building up my mileage toward a specific goal. I loved the accomplishment of actually running THAT FAR, and not feeling like puking after.
I’ve run lots of races since then – three half-marathons and many 10ks. I’ve been passed by guys wearing chicken costumes, and I’ve had great races and really really bad races (like when I got lapped by Chicken Guy…Chicken Guy is going to pay this year at the Fall 10k). I’ve run alone and I’ve run with friends and I’ve run in large groups with people I don’t really know, but who are my friends simply because we all really like to run.
I love to run. I pray that I will be able to do it for a long time to come. And I’m looking forward to adding one more bib number and one more finisher’s medal to the pile.
I am, apparently, the only person in this house capable of throwing things away, judging by the FOUR empty apple juice cartons littering my counters and the TWO empty cereal boxes that were nicely put away in the cupboard.
I managed to drive the car over a gigantic pile of dog poo in the garage, thus stinking up the entire garage and now I think I smell dog poo all over the house…and then I realized that I was actually smelling Berry Baby, who’s pants were drooping lower than normal and were wet from the bum to the knees. Goooood parenting.
According to Berry Baby, “no” must mean “do it faster”. And despite all of my efforts at teaching him a few signs, he still says “all done” by throwing all his uneaten food on the floor.
I’m pretty sure that my scale is broken. I feel skinny, but according to my scale I have gained 3lbs. So either I am delusional (entirely possible) or my scale is whacked. I will ponder this over a cup of fresh coffee and a donut.
According to Berry Boy, “in a little bit” means “ask repeatedly every 5 seconds”.
I can still smell dog poo.
Despite my efforts at teaching Berry Boy to put away his clothes, I can still count 5 items of clothing that are in my living room. All his.
I have folded and put away the mountain of laundry that was in my laundry room for the past week (or so) – just in time to start another 3 loads of laundry. How is that possible?
I have not run since Sunday, because I’ve been desperately tired and fighting off the snot that Berry Baby has so nicely shared with me. But now my legs are getting twitchy.
I made up a few excuses to get to the city today, but really I just wanted to go so that I could stock up on coffee, so I am now sipping some fresh Arabian Mocha Sanani in my Arabian Mocha Sanani coffee mug. *special*.
I’ve been having a Rebecca Lynn Howard kind of week(s):
“I need a vacation from my life; Me and my husband, we need a wife; Somebody who’s sole ambition is laundry…”
I would take a picture of the overflowing pile of laundry in my laundry room waiting for me to fold it (yes, it’s clean, and yes, it’s mostly sitting on the floor), but it’s too depressing for me. And embarrassing. It’s been there for over a week, and I keep having to go rummage through it for (semi)matching socks and clean underwear. How much do maids cost anyway?
I don’t think I’m overly busy (because I do my absolute best to NOT be overly busy – it stresses me out) – I just don’t seem to be getting anything done.
For example, I had to host Book Club last night, and I didn’t have time to actually “clean” the floor, so I spot cleaned all the really sticky obvious spots and prayed that the sunlight hitting the floor would be more forgiving by 8pm when the girls would show up. I am such a domestic goddess.
And speaking of book club, I went all out and prepared lots of good coffee and espresso, because I know we’re all coffee lovers (for the most part), and even sacrificially ground the last of my Guatemalan coffee beans (gulp), and only two girls showed up (out of 7) and one drank tea and the other had a latte, so I totally WASTED that whole pot of coffee. I could cry. I will be sending Berry Guy on a coffee reconnaissance mission in the city after work today.
On top of it all…I am still not seeing a whole lot of GREEN outside, and heard a rumor today that more snow is expected tomorrow, so I think I may just stay in bed. Until next Spring. Or until the half marathon on the 24th.
Which brings me to my next *topic* – ONLY 12 MORE DAYS UNTIL THE HALF MARATHON!!!! I did my last long run on Sunday (Mother’s Day) and it went really well. I plugged in my iPod and put on an audio book (“Into the Wild” by Jon Krakauer) and got completely lost in the story for 2 hours. What a great way to pass a long run. The miles literally ticked by and I was transported into the Alaskan wilderness and hitchhiked through through parts of the US as I followed Chris McCandless on his strange journey. The entire time I was trying to assess his mental stability – I’m still not done – but at least I didn’t have to assess my own for running just under 13miles.
Regardless, the long run bought me 2 hours of no whiny kids or messy house or unfolded laundry. The great escape. It was bliss. And after that bliss and my cold water bath for my legs (gulp) I devoured not one but two helpings of sweet biscuit shortcake smothered in fresh, sugared strawberries and slathered with whipped cream. I should correct that. I devoured two large helpings of whipped cream (with some strawberries and shortcake). Yumm. Because, let’s be honest. Sometimes, Mother’s day is only going to be what you are going to make of it. Sometimes, you are not married to the guy who will plan you a breakfast in bed, or have bought flowers, or who will make arrangements so that you don’t have to cook. And that’s ok, it really is. Because he’s good at other things. So sometimes you just have to make the day what it’s going to be, and not complain. Which means that if you want strawberry shortcake, you will have to make it yourself. And eat two helpings.
So, to conclude the randomness of this post, I will leave you with my new motto…
:End ramble
We really love a good book around here
We find it really hard not to get right into them
and I do mean right into them
Stinkers.
I went for a fantastic long run yesterday with a good friend. And believe me, there was a day when I thought the words “fantastic” and “long run” did not belong in a sentence together.
I love this friend (I love all my friends), and she’s someone that I don’t get to rub shoulders with very often but really wish that I could. We go to different churches here in town and have different circles of friends, and our schedules rarely coincide, but she’s someone that I always wish that I could spend more time with. So I was thrilled when I was able to coerce her into running the half marathon with me because I knew we would get to run together at least a few times before the actual event.
I met my friend in the city after she was done work and we struck out for the path that runs along the river. It was a pleasure to be (a) running with a friend, and (b) running somewhere that winds and turns, instead on my endless miles of straight grid roads around home. Pure pleasure. Even when I was getting tired. And even when I knew that there were two blisters coming on my toes.
While we ran, we chatted. About flooding bathrooms, about work, about kids, about sports, about great sports bras, about smearing vaseline in *places* to prevent chaffing. We ran and we ran and we ran…for not quite 2 hours. We ate jube jubes, nodded or waved at other runners as we met them on the path, dodged dog poo and wedding parties, and sipped at our gatorade.
And just when I was pretty sure that I was not going to be able to run any more, we charged up the final incline to the spot where we had begun, and we were finished. And by finished, I mean finished. There was not a lot of juice left in these legs.
We stretched, changed, and headed over to a small, local coffee shop where I purchased the largest latte I could, and then we sat and visited some more. And I love that in spite of the fact that we had just been chatting for 2 hours, we still had not run out of things to talk about. We discussed our changing menstrual cycles, how we wanted our kids to grow up having a good work ethic, how having kids kind of wrecks us – physically and emotionally. And because I had just run 11 miles with her, I felt ok about sharing the fact that I had to start taking antidepressants after Berry Baby was born, something that I have shared verbally with very few people. Then we laughed about how during our run we had both wavered between feeling like we could run forever, and realizing that we definitely couldn’t; between feeling invincible and feeling like dying. And when we left the coffee shop she laughed uncontrollably when I missed the step down because I’d underestimated just how wobbly my jelly legs were.
Those are just some of the reasons that I love running. It seems to have a way of removing barriers and allowing people to share. It combines feelings of total elation with feelings of total desperation. And it always provides a sense of accomplishment, no matter how well or poorly the run went – either I finished a bad run even though I didn’t want to, or I finished well a distance I didn’t think I could, or in spite of a total lack of discipline during a short run, I still managed to run all the way up my nemesis hill without stopping to walk. And while I like running alone, I certainly love running with a friend.
