I Did It!

Well, I did it! I managed to finish my very first 5k. My makeup free face didn't scare any small children, I didn't vomit, I didn't die, and the tops of my thighs rubbing together didn't set my underwear on fire, so all in all it was a pretty great morning! Many moons ago one of my bodybuilder friends posted something that said, "You can do it. You can breathe. Your legs don't hurt. You can do it. Just run!" I really tried to tell myself that during the race, but here's the truth: It hurt. It hurt bad. I did feel like I couldn't breathe, and I really wanted a drink of water. But I finished. I finished with a personal best, a whopping 10 minutes faster than I have ever run 3.1 miles at home, and I did run to the finish line.
Naturally, I had a few first race issues. I pinned my race bib over what I like to call my "non baby bump" which was nice. My "Will Run for Ice Cream" headband did its job and kept the sweat out of my eyes, which was also helpful. I bought an armband to hold my cell phone so that I could listen to my music while I ran. Unfortunately, I got in a fight with it at the starting line. By the time I got it working, my music started halfway through my playlist. This was a problem, because I have the  songs memorized, and I know how much farther I have to go by which song is on. As a result, I ran out of music before I was done with the race. Note to self: Add more songs to my playlist!
I also figured out that running on asphalt is completely different than running on my treadmill. My legs were burning, and I certainly need to work on getting my wind built up. I was beaten by no less than two people pushing strollers and one guy pushing a wheelchair. I was also outrun by two boys, ages 6 and 7, who had enough energy to chat, push, and shove each other during the race.
For the race itself, I was smart enough to start toward the back of the pack. I stayed with the same few women for most of the race, most of whom appeared to be about my age. I'm sure they enjoyed listening to me huff and puff the whole time. As we were coming into the stadium, I was walking with one woman who was concerned that we were the last two runners. (We weren't. Not by a long shot.) At one point on the course, we were running in one direction and meeting the race leaders going the other way. That wasn't discouraging at all! It did help that as he went by, the ladies in front of me were saying things like, "Loser! Overachiever! Slob!" He ran the course in exactly one half of the time it took me. So at least I have room for improvement. Ha, ha!
All in all, I had a great time and accomplished something I wasn't certain I could just a few short weeks ago. And yes, I'm already looking into doing another one. I must be a glutton for punishment!

The March for April

The March for April 5k is here! Tomorrow morning will be my first foot race since the 50 yard dash in the third grade. It's safe to say that it's been a minute! It's also a well-known fact that as soon as I learned how to ride a horse my running days were officially over. I definitely prefer riding to running, but this time it's for a good cause.
We all tend to think of ourselves as too young or too healthy for cancer. I mean, cancer is something that happens to other people, right? Old, sick people, not young "healthy" women with jobs, children, and busy lives to live. I have said before that cancer has touched my life early and often. It has taken my grandmother, my mother, and one of my closest friends.
The race I am running in tomorrow is a benefit for a high school classmate that has leukemia. After the race, I'll be getting my cheek swabbed to see if I'm a match for her bone marrow type. She needs a transplant, and she's been put in the hospital with a fever. I can't imagine having to miss such a huge event planned in your honor. I know she has been looking forward to it for months, but even a simple infection could be deadly for her. Talk about a reality check. Someone my age facing the agony that goes along with having cancer and contemplating their own mortality. Sure makes me grateful for my own health, as well as the healthy people and children in my life.
Today was frantic, trying to get all of our animals situated and packing for 5 people. We got away much later than we intended, and I couldn't help but think there was something working against me all day. I thought to myself at least a dozen times that I should have taken my husband's advice and come on this trip alone. But I wanted my kids to get to spend the night with their grandparents, and frankly, I wanted my husband there to help me celebrate finishing the race. Accomplishments just don't feel as important if he's not there to share them with me.
So I'm off to get the kids settled and try to get a good night's sleep. Here's hoping 3.1 miles feels shorter tomorrow than it ever has!  

It's getting closer!

My 5k debut is getting closer. Much closer. As in, it's Saturday. Two days from now. I am confident that I can finish. I am also confident that I will not be setting any records. But I will be there, putting in the effort, and I suppose that's what matters. I got an awesome headband for the race that says, "Will Run for Ice Cream" and an armband for my music. Naturally, I wish I had started training sooner so that I could be going faster by now, but I suppose everyone has to start somewhere.
I am not one of "those" women who run. You know, the ones who go grocery shopping in their running shorts and have a 26.2 sticker in their back window. I am one of those people who mention casually that I'm going to run a 5k and have people say, "Really? You're going to run? You're going to run 5k?" while trying not to look so surprised.
I am one of those people who's going to have a Susan Powter moment. Not the moment where she went mental, got a crew cut and dyed it blonde, but the one where she suddenly bent over to check out her thighs and screamed, "My thighs don't rub together anymore!" It's coming, I swear it is. That bucket of bolts I call a scale was finally forced to admit that I had lost a couple of pounds, but more importantly, my clothes are fitting looser and my wobbly bits aren't as wobbly anymore. So I feel like I am making progress, slowly but surely.
I promised my friend Beth that I would never run a 5k in her honor. So I can't say that this one is for her, but since it's for a high school classmate who has leukemia, I don't figure she would mind. Either way, Beth's going to get a kick out of me huffing and puffing along, I'm fairly certain about that. It's "only" 3.1 miles, right?

Thanks so much!

Thank you very much to everyone who has purchased a book so far! I couldn't be more pleased with how things have gone. I wrote this book for a number of reasons, the biggest being so that when mommy brain plus age transforms my memory into a sad, deflated balloon I will be able to recall the stories I want to tell my kids over and over again. (Especially when I want to get on their nerves! Hey - payback is a witch, girls!)
Also, I wanted to give tired, struggling moms out there a laugh. Even more than that, I hope that someone out there will read about what I've been through and realize that they are not alone in the mother "hood." That sounds so silly - none of us was the first to have a baby or struggle with the monumental job of raising short people who act just like us. But motherhood can make you feel very, very isolated at times.
I really struggled with whether to share my experience with "postpartum" depression. I write it that way because after the birth of my kids was certainly not the first time in my life I had dealt with depression. It just catapulted it to a whole other level. Admitting to the world that you have struggled with this or that is a very personal and private thing, and I wasn't completely sure that I wanted to be so transparent. But I felt like it was important, if for no other reason than to hope that someone will read about my experience and find the courage to deal with their own issues.
Here's my attempt at a motivational speech: You are not alone. You are not the first or the last person to deal with depression or whatever is troubling you. You WILL make it through it. Time does not heal all wounds. That is a crock. Time makes some things easier, and then there are some hurts that will never, ever become less painful. Those are the things that require you to dig deep down inside and find a way to go on.
I have learned that life is full of spectacular highs and devastating lows. Learning to really live somewhere in the middle has been my biggest challenge. Each day when I wake up, I pray a prayer of thanksgiving for all of the joy and the blessings in my life. That's a fairly recent habit for me, and I can't say enough about the difference it makes in my outlook on things. Here's hoping all of your lives are filled with more laughter than tears.

Cheap Shoes

I am pleased to say that I "ran" a 5k on the treadmill this morning without stopping. I bought new, cushy running shoes last night on the advice of a friend who marathons. When I complained about my sore back and shin splints, he promptly asked if I was stretching and running in cheap shoes. Now, as far as I'm concerned, my Saucony running shoes were not "cheap" by any stretch of the imagination. However, as one so often does when just getting into a sport, last night I found out how wrong I was! After a fabulous birthday dinner where I ate way too much and an hour in Dick's Sporting Goods, I can honestly say that I no longer run in cheap shoes.
I have also been making use of our equine cold spa and therapy laser nearly every day. My shin splints were 95% gone after just one spa/laser treatment, and frankly, my horses are out of excuses not to run. My legs and feet feel so good that I no longer feel sorry for them! Okay, fine, so I didn't run while carrying a fat girl on my back, but still.
This morning I am stranded at home because my husband's truck is in the shop getting tires and he's at work in my Suburban. I wonder if he thinks that leaving me here without a car will force me to clean house? Not likely, Sweetheart. I'm totally kidding. Okay, I'm at least partially kidding. I'm off to fold laundry, but I will leave you with the baby's question of the day. While poking around in and examining my confirmationally challenged belly button (having twins causes some collateral damage) my baby looks at me and says, "Mama, where is you belly button? Is it in there?" Yep, I'm pretty sure it is. Somewhere.
 

Happy Birthday to me and goodbye, Fred

It's funny how, as we age, birthdays begin to take on different meanings. As a child, I can remember looking forward to my big day all year with breathless anticipation. I couldn't wait for the day of my birthday party. Looking back on it, my parties were never expensive or outlandish, but those Sunday afternoons full of crepe paper streamers and balloons at my mom's house were some of the best days of my life.
My children are under the impression that I'm 26. I don't know where they might have gotten such an idea, but I'm not about to correct them, and you'd better not either, if you know what's good for you! The other day Savannah told me that she thought she wanted to write a "blob" about her own kids someday. Then she stopped and said, "But I'm not sure I want to have my own kids." "That's okay," I replied. "I was 29 before I knew for sure that I wanted to have my own kids!" She looked a little confused, then said, "But mom, you're only 26 now. You couldn't have had us when you were 29!" Right, right. I almost forgot! Silly me.
Sharlee asked my yesterday if EVERYBODY got fat when they turned 35. I said, "No, everybody doesn't. Why?" "Well, I heard on the radio that people in their forties needed to lose weight!"
On a really sad note, today I had the unenviable task of euthanizing my friend Beth's dog, Fred. He was hit by a car about a week ago and his back was fractured. Despite the care of three vets and daily laser treatments, he still couldn't get up.
Those of you who have been readers for awhile will remember that Beth was my dear, dear friend who lost her fight with breast cancer last September. Her Corgi, Fred the Fairy Dog, actually made it into her eulogy as a survivor. She loved that dog, and all I could think as I knelt beside him today and stroked his head to let him know that he was loved and he was not alone, was that I know she is there waiting for him. I know two friends who will be happy, happy, happy to see each other!
When people are sick, their friends often ask what they can "do for" them. I was completely humbled and pleased when Beth asked me to come over and give her a shot she was too afraid to give to herself. As hard as it was for me, taking care of Fred in his final moments was something else I could do for her, and as such, I consider it an honor. You sure were a good boy, Fred. Give your mom a kiss for me.

I apologize

It's always interesting and a little scary to hear the things that go through my children's minds. Overheard this morning in the bathroom:

Child: (From the toilet, where she does her best thinking) Daddy, can you come in here? I have a quick question.
Daddy: What?
Child: Well, I was just wondering, why is it that big people get to boss little people around, and you know, tell them what to do?
Daddy: Hmm, it's not really that big people get to tell little people what to do, exactly. But I'm your dad and it's my job to take care of you until you're old enough to make your own decisions.
Child: Well, if this country's about freedom, that just don't really seem fair!
Daddy: Tell you what, when you're 18 you can have all the freedom you want.
Child: It just don't seem fair. That's all I'm saying.

Yes, dear child, it's totally unfair that you have two parents who care where you go and what you do, who you hang out with and whether you come home at night. After reading about the Stuebenville rape case in the news this week, my husband has decided that his girls will never be attending a party of any kind. I guess he thinks these cute little outgoing things are going to stay shut up in their bedrooms until they are old enough to get married (which is never, as far as he's concerned.)
I choose to take a slightly different approach, which is to remind you three that I know everybody. My mom used to tell me that every time I left home. She was a hairdresser, and in our small community that was pretty much true. She knew at least one person in every room I ever walked into, and she didn't even have Facebook to help her out!
So I'm going to issue a pre-apology. I apologize for every time that your dad and I will embarrass you in the future. I apologize for every time you will be called a prude, or a party pooper, or a goody two shoes. I apologize for wanting to keep you safe, to preserve your innocence for as long as possible, and for letting you just be a little girl. I apologize for pushing you to be the best at whatever you decide to do, and for reminding you constantly that you can accomplish whatever you set your mind to if you work hard enough. Oh wait - no I don't.