Grindin' It Out - The End is Near!

One day, my protein shaker cup will not sit beside sippy cups and baby bottles in my sink.
Someday I will not have to do their dishes or laundry or nag them to pick up their shit treasures.

Right now, we're busy, and our children don't even really do any organized activities.
We're busy because they're little and quite dependent on us.  Particularly as a Mom, I am mostly responsible for myself and three little people.
For a gal who is pretty far from a type A personality, which roughly translates to disorganized and forgetful, this is totally out of my comfort zone.

The beauty of a type Z personality?  I'm not stressed out too often.
I try not to "sweat the small stuff", because I could get so wrapped up in the details that I miss out on the memory making.
I've got a mock-race weekend and then peak weekend the next and then I taper for the big day(s)!

That means, less than a month from now - in fact, by January 12, 2015, I will be a Goofy Race finisher and second time marathoner.
C-RA-ZY!!

I've been running a half marathon or longer every Sunday for a couple of months now, which gives me lots of time to think.
I almost always come back around to how the hell I ended up here.
Married, three kids, and yet still living my dreams.

Truth be told, it's not easy.
There are loads of obstacles, challenges, and we meet them as a family.
And at this point in our lives, by family, I mean my husband and I.
And by husband, I mean the super cute fella who lives in my house and has never doubted my wild and crazy ambitions for a minute.
(Love ya babe.)

What are some things that have reared their ugly head on my path to 63.3km in 2 days?

Injury.  Chronic illness.  Childcare.  Jobs.

Have I missed a few training runs?  Yup.
Is that going to stop me from finishing?  Nope.

A very clever lady told me something about failure recently.
Had a bad day?  Ate everything in sight, so long as it didn't have nutritional value?
Missed an important workout?  Waited in traffic just to turn around and go home?

She said, just because you have a flat tire doesn't mean you slash the other three.
I.  LOOOOOOOVE.  This.

I've never considered such a thing because I am very stubborn, which can work against me because once I've eaten the  row of oreos for breakfast, the day is a bust, no?

Don't give up on yourself because of one, or two or ten slips.
Deciding that you're worth the effort is something you must do everyday.  Again and again.

I'm down 40+lbs since baby number last was born, and that's a month post partum, so all the weight that was going to "fall off", had already done so.

I have worked really friggin' hard for this and I'm excited, for a month from now, when I will celebrate my victory with several slushy, alcoholic beverages, and likely, registering for another race.
Hypo half, anyone?
Which one are you doing?

Another issue that I haven't just dealt with this time around, but every time I train for a race, and really, it's something I deal with round the clock, is disease.

I am the proud owner of not one, but two chronic ones that I will have to medicate for indefinitely.
I'm an asthmatic and I have Grave's disease.
My lungs are shotty and my metabolism works at a snails pace on it's own.
I take drugs.  Good ones.  And they keep my diseases under control.
So that I can do the things I want to do.

Why is this important?
Are there people who have a perfectly clean bill of health?
Sure.
Are there people who don't have weight struggles?
Absolutely.

Am I exempt from being my best self because I do have health and weight issues?
Hell.  To the.  No.

I sat in front of a gal one day in a stadium who proceeded to tell her friend why she couldn't do, basically, any form of exercise.
Then the two of them went out for a smoke.
But I digress.
She said that squats/lunges/any-bending-of-any-sort, hurt her knees.
She said she was too out of shape to run.
There were no fitness classes that fit her schedule because her kids were too busy.

Excuses are fine.
But own your life.

You are not a victim and the world does not owe you anything.

It's a hard truth, but all it means is that whatever choices you make, they're fine.
But don't bitch about the consequences.

Don't want to eat well?
Cool.  Don't care.

But I don't want to hear about your heartburn, or exhaustion.

Won't make time to get some fitness in?
That's ok too.

Please, please don't tell me about how a flight of stairs winds you.

When you drop some pounds, a lot of people ask how you did it.

How did I do it?
The hard way.
The don't-eat-trash-everyday-and-get-off-your-rear-and-move way.

Trust the process and be patient.
It'll come.
It'll come in spite of your health ailments.
It'll come in spite of the negatrons who doubt you.
It'll come.

Next time I post will likely be post-run, so send me good vibes on January 10 & 11!!
And Merry Christmas!

Old Scars

I know I'm not the only one out there fighting the good fight, losing weight.
So while I was out running yesterday, a song came on and I ended up with a few tears, mid-run, over some of the lyrics.
This happen to anyone else?  Why does my music often cause me emotional angst whilst I'm running?!?!
The song is called Superheroes and the line goes like this:
"When you've been fighting for it all your life."
Tears.  Immediate, freezing cold, tears.

I have seriously been fighting ALL my life for this.

I don't often talk about my childhood (does anyone, really?), because I didn't have the most fantastic one.
Don't get me wrong, my family is and always has been amazing, but as soon I was flung into a group of peers, be it neighbourhood kids or school kids, I was an easy target.
I was overweight.  Not just a little, but a lot.  I was overweight in a time, when it seemed, no one else was.
Being a chubby kid is soooooo much harder than being a chubby adult.
Was it hard when the kids called me fat, without even batting an eyelash?  Was it hard when a girl in grade 6 followed me home, teasing me, when I was in grade 1?  Was it hard when I was on a diet program at 7, and ordered salad for breakfast at a restaurant?
Yes.  It was hard.  And it wasn't just hard then, it's hard now too, to think about or even talk about.
I have no idea how, but I will continue to fight so that none of my precious children deal with weight issues, ever.
And I know that genetically speaking, at least one of my kids will battle weight, but I can try and model a healthy way to maintain so that they never feel it's a burden.

(For the record, my Mom came with me to school where I pointed out the older girl and she went batsh*t crazy on her.  I don't remember any of it, but I bet it was epic!)

I struggled with whether or not to include a picture of me in those years, but I'm not doing to.  A lot of you knew me, and if you didn't, then maybe it's best you don't think of me that way.

What I am currently struggling with, is looking in the mirror and still seeing the fat girl, even now.
I sometimes feel like I'm a thinner girl stuck in the chubby girls' body.
I'm sure there are some reading this who feel the opposite.  Maybe you were always slender, perhaps you didn't have to work too hard, and now you feel like you're trapped in someone else's body.
The issue is the same.  Not being able to feel like yourself in your own skin.

What do you say when people tell you that you look great?  I always find that hard.
"Oh, thanks.  It's been a lot of hard work and I still have lots to do."
"Oh, well, it hasn't been very much fun!  Hahaha!"

I find it stressful partly because it's comfortable to be the way I've always been.
It's familiar to look in the mirror and see a fullness that's always been there.  A heartiness that keeps the wrinkles on your body from sinking in and your face looking friendly.

It's as exciting as it is scary to look in the mirror and see bones, veins, muscles, emerging from my new body. Truly, things I have never, ever had because even as a child I had a little extra on my body. Is this the new me?  Is this the body I will have for the rest of my life?
Will I stumble?  Fall?
Will I push farther past this?

I don't feel relief when I look in the mirror, like things are finally the way they were meant to be.
I feel this sense of fear at this anticlimactic result.
It didn't happen overnight, it happened slowly, and I can't help but think that this thing I've been fighting for all my life, is something I will continue to fight for.  Every day.

That's scary.
Going back is scary.
Going further, is scary.

I have faith that this new lifestyle will become easier and more second nature than old habits, but I know from experience that it won't come easy.
Is anything worth having, easy?

Another line in the bawl-fest-inducing-song goes like this:
"Every day, every hour turn the pain into power".

This line pumps me up.
Being a chubby kid sucked.  It sucked a whole bunch.
But as Rafiki says, I can learn from it, or I can run from it.
I've spent many years pretending my childhood woes didn't happen, but I've decided that it was a part of what made me, me, and I'm going to use it to fuel my drive and perseverance.


Here's a link to the song.
I absolutely LOVE that it's called Superheroes, because I definitely feel invincible when I'm out there rocking a solid 5, or 10k!
 Superheroes Song

Runs with Purpose

In the past two weeks I have run 80+km.
I've run exactly 6 times, and two of those six were juuuuuuuuuust shy of 30km.
I am in the throes of marathon training and I am loving it!!

I recently told my husband that I was so happy to be doing a weekly long run on Sunday mornings because it makes me feel like I have purpose and something to strive for.
A goal.

A goal is what keeps me signing up for workouts, buying new gear because the old stuff is getting worn out or, even better, too big!
It's what makes me lace my shoes up at 8pm on a cold, rainy Tuesday after I've already logged a workout earlier in the day.

If I didn't register for running races, I would probably carry around an extra 40lbs or so and really not be too motivated to move my rear.
Running is my thing.
MY thing.
And it might be yours too, but it most certainly doesn't have to be!
But what wouldn't be a bad idea for everyone, is to have goals.
Goals are what we want to eventually be, or do.
Something better than our current selves.
Write it down.  Make it real.  Revisit your goals in a few months time.
No one in the world needs to know what your goals are, but you.
Or, share them.  Whatever you want!  There's no rules for this stuff!

I'm getting frightfully close to a big milestone in my weight loss journey, and although I'm excited that my clothes are fitting and I'm able to run, a lot, and take a flight of stairs without being winded, I'm also scared of reaching certain points and deciding, that here, or there, is good enough.
I've done it many times before and there's not a darn thing wrong with being okay with yourself, but have you ever wanted something so badly that every damn day, you're thinking about it?
I want this.  I want to know how my body will look well within a normal, healthy weight.  I want to know how that will effect my runs and workouts.  My life in general.  My marriage.

This time, I've got this.  And I absolutely love the cartoon above because it is so friggin' true.
I have had some days where I would mow down my kids for a kit kat bar.  Days where I literally wake up, and decide that today, I will gain weight.  I won't even call these bad days, because they are truly part of the process, and I am a human being.
And even on the days I resolve to gain weight (and trust me, I do!), I've lost weight, overall.
Success.  The arrow is still pointing up, but there are roadblocks and setbacks, and, well, life, really getting in the way.

I want to briefly introduce my next big goal, formally, and why I'm doing it.

I registered for the Goofy Race and a Half last year and had to defer because I grew a person instead.
To be honest, I haven't been too motivated to train and run this race because I've been fearful of another injury.
Then I met our neighbours.
My oldest goes to school with one of the kids next door and they have become instant best friends.  He is such a great kid, and so easy to have around, it has been amazing, to say the least!
I also got the chance to meet the handsome guys Mom.  She is a beautiful person who would move mountains for her kids under normal circumstances, but they don't have normal circumstances.

Two of her four children have a very rare condition.  Not only rare, but fatal.
It seriously hurts my heart to even type that about her kids.  Her kids.
And this amazing lady and her family live it.  This is their reality.

I am incredibly lucky to be able to run, and I will be running the half marathon & marathon for these two resilient, tenacious, very cool and very loved kids and their family.

I'll be including the link in every blog post between now and race day so please consider donating to this charity which doesn't garner a lot of attention or support due to the rarity of the disease.

I'm hoping to have my first guest blog post by the Mother of these kids so she can give you idea of why you should donate so that a treatment or cure can be found so these kids can live long, healthy, awesome lives, like they deserve to.

Ataxia Telangiectasia Children's Project

When They Sleep, There is Peace

Most of our days are good.  Not great, love-my-life fantastic, but good.  We've all survived, had few fights, eaten a couple of food groups and had some fresh air.
In my world, that's a good day.

There are a handful of truly terrible days, and it's often nobody's fault - it's just a bad day.
On its own.

I learned recently that our little fella doesn't care for curry.
As in, for hours following my consumption of this spice, he had whole body writhing gas pains.
Poor guy, and also...
super fun.

Rewind to the point at which I'm enjoying the delicious curry.
Chicken, rice, veg - everything good, and then some curry.
So.  Yum.
Boy releases unearthly sounds from guts as he swings happily, continuing to coo.
Pick up said child to change rear end, and notice some chicken curry on the side of my hand.
Give it a lick.

It's.  Not.  Curry.

I repeat.

Not.  Curry.
Ew.

First time in three children I've had poop in my mouth.  So gross.
Damn yellow poop.

Universe decides that isn't enough punishment for the curry deliciousness and blesses me with a truly awful day of crying, constant fussing and screeches.
I shall never enjoy curry again.  Ever.

Eldest kid is at school.
I haven't decided yet if I love school or if I feel like I'm back in school.
Today, it's cool.
Middle child has been resisting potty training/elimination communication/learning to use the loo - whatever you want to call it.
Today, she's decided to self train.
On a fancy napkin.
Thanks,  Ellie.  You're so thoughtful.

There are umpteen-bazillion articles about how to survive the early years.
In my experience, what's served me best is having a sense of humour and knowing that being upset is OK.
Also, patience is a virtue.
Really, though, the sense of humour thing is paramount.
This too shall pass, and in a few short hours, it won't matter that one kid just cracked the other on the head with a toy, or that your name has been whined spoken 200 times in the last minute, or that your kids are all crying, at the same time, and your husband just texted that he's stuck in traffic.

It's OK to cry, but it's also OK to laugh, even if it's maybe not so appropriate.
On more than one occasion, my oldest has asked my why I'm laughing, and I've responded that someday, she'll know, but for now, it's all there is to do.
I have a generally happy demeanor and one day, while we were driving, she asked me why I wasn't smiling.
Profound.
Didn't ever consider that she can always see my face in the rearview mirror.
Being a Mom cannot suck my happiness out.  It's too important for myself and it's too important for them.

I try not to simply survive our days, but to somehow enrich their lives, but that's not always reasonable.
Then I try not to beat myself up for being the worst Mom on the planet.
(Not really.  Except sometimes it feels that way.)

And I know I've been victorious, each and every day, when they're all sleeping soundly in their beds with full bellies, sometimes clean faces and rarely, clean teeth also.

Why Crossfit Works for Me (But Won't Work for Everybody)

Move faster.  Lift bigger.  Jump higher.

More, more, more.

That's the general idea most people have of crossfit.

It's a workout that's an easy target because there are so many trying it and injuring themselves, and there most definitely is an addiction that can ensue.

Crossfit can be a ton of fun.

It can also be the quickest way to hurt yourself and spend a very long time recovering.

I've been to a few crossfit gyms,and I've found the one that fits me.

Everyone's fitness journey is no more than finding out what works for them, and crossfit is something that has helped me make PRs in my running and has also helped me to rehabilitate an old injury.

Having said that, I do NOT suggest that everyone should try crossfit.

It is an intense workout where sometimes speed and strength can be valued more than good form, which inevitably leads to injury, and worse, discouragement from exercising.

The gym I go to allows any and all modifications...if you already know what mods you need to make.

This, I know, can be a problem.

If you're not familiar with how to do a move properly, and then how to do that same move properly and with a modification to make it easier, then, likely, no one is going to tell you this at a crossfit gym.

I would go so far as to say that it is an advanced workout, for lack of a better descriptive word, and because, it's not for everyone.

Many of the athletes I train with go 4,5,6 or even 7 times a week.  Some even go more than once a day.

In my opinion, that's too much of any single form of exercise and I believe rest days are hugely important for mind and for body.

I go twice a week.  I go simply to supplement my running training to avoid injury.  

I go because we do many explosive movements like sprints, box jumps and power cleans, and where running is very aerobic and repetitive, crossfit gives me an anaerobic workout with tons of variety and strength training.

We also do agility training - like hopping on one foot.  Simple, and yet I feel as though my ankle strength benefits tremendously from this movement.

Crossfit works for me because I know my body very well and because I'm confident enough to say, if ever questioned, that the reason I'm not lifting 4 plates is because 2 is what I'm comfortable lifting, with good form.  People often get hurt because there is a fear, or intimidation, of the people who are running the sport - and this doesn't apply only to crossfit.  If you are afraid, then you may try to push yourself to an unsafe place.  A good coach can be the difference between a good experience and a bad one, but being confident in ones abilities is more valuable than any coach.  

It doesn't offend me when I'm shown a video of some group exploiting crossfit, because I can understand why these vids are made.

Crossfit is kind of crazy and so are the folks who do it!

In my limited experience, the gym I go to accommodates many runners, which is why we do loads of sprints and running mechanics, but I can't speak with a whole lot of expertise because I've only been going for a few years.

I think I would only like for every person who wants to criticize, to come out and do a workout (unless you're not ready- and I don't mean that in a condescending way!).

Know that you can modify, and know that you can lift much, much lighter than the "prescribed" weights, and know that there are people who are immersed in crossfit - but not everyone is.

I'd also like to see everyone lifting each other up.

"Oh, you are a ballet dancer?  Awesome!  I bet you get a great workout from that!"

"You like to cross country ski?  I'm sure you get tons of cardio out of that!"

"I can't believe you do yoga for 90 minutes!?  That's incredible!"

Summer Shenanigans

We've just returned from a two and a half week trip through BC, and I have to say, as simple as it was, it was one of the best vacations I've ever had!
We got to spend time with tons of our most favourite people, eat lots of junk and soak up the sun while we played, and played, and played...

This was our site at Martha Creek in Revelstoke.
Nice view, huh?

We all swam in the beautiful, mosquito-free
lakes and could hardly keep
Audrey OUT of the water!

Aaaaaaaand we also watched Frozen.

A.  Lot.
Oh, and believe it or not, Frozen is currently playing for Ellie.  On Shaw on Demand.
And she's lip syncing.  With serious emotion.
Eyes closed.  Arms upraised with crescendo.  Mouth open wide and chin tipped up to the sky.
To the opening scene of the men harvesting ice.
Yeah.

We had great weather, and mostly well behaved children and it was really nice to spend time together as a family of five!

I ate fruit.
Hoards of fruit.
Still am, actually...

It was also great to be able to do some running in the hilly areas we were staying.
I managed to get in a few upper body workouts and had a 24km week and a 26km week, and when we got home I pumped out a 5.5k with an average pace of 6:12.
Boo.  Yah.

Taking time off my
day-to-day runs
makes my sooooo happy!

I was aiming for 6:15s and I knew I was hitting most, but my silly Garmin doesn't give me a current pace - only my pace after every kilometre.
I do believe a Garmin 210 may be in my future.

I've been running for a really long time and it infuriates me when people use the word 'jog'.
Most runners are irked by this.
I feel like it implies that we're out there on a leisurely, lolly-gagging (is that a word?  Now it is...) jaunt through our neighbourhoods instead of slogging it out, mile after mile and all the while making it look effortless and even fun, pulling a smile out of our really hard-working arses.
We are not jogging.

Except for many years, I was.
I never really pushed myself, or tried to carry a faster pace for any sort of distance.
I was happy just to get across a finish line, upright and not tomato-faced, never having time goals.
It wasn't until a few years ago and a few pounds less on my body, that I needed more.
I wanted to be faster.
Needed to be a middle-of-the-packer and not a penguin back-of-the-packer.
Now, there's a very complicated formula for becoming a quicker runner.

Run.  Faster.

If you want to be faster, you have to train faster.

Now, at this point in my life a quality workout will always, always win out on a quantity one, even though once a week I have to carve out several hours for a long, slow run.
Like, really slow.
As in, feel like you're going backwards slow.

But once a week I can really own a run.  One where I push, and hurt and have a big, unintentional smile on my face because I really love the feeling of a run where I'm flying.
Really flying.

Sometimes I just feel, good.  GooOOooOOood, good.  And even though I'm running up a hill, I'm hitting sub 6 minute km's.  THAT'S a great tempo run.
Quick runs are very much quality runs and as a bonus, take less of my precious time!

OK, currently, Ellie is singing, er, excuse me, lip syncing to Love is an Open Door and just hit me accidentally because her arms are swinging out so fervently.
And then, at the end, she toothy-grinned and clasped her hands together when Anna says YES to Hans.
What.  A.  Ham.

SIDE NOTE:  If you haven't seen Frozen, stop whatever you're doing immediately and go watch it.
It's actually really good and not at all nauseating to watch four times a day!

Ogopogo pic, although we never
swam in Lake Okanagan!

"I'm Training"

I've got an extra pair of hands this week.
My Mom is here to help out while my hubby is away.

Now, don't be jealous of me, but I was SO excited to be able to workout without watching the young'uns, and then, this evening - this is really going to make you jealous - I got to clean my car!  ALONE!

To be alone is one of my favourite things anymore.  I love these kids in a stupid crazy way, but I absolutely cherish my time alone.  Just me.  No one to wait on help or indulge or answer to.
I think that's why running will always be a part of my life.  I get to be alone.
"Training", I say, "I'm training, so I need to go for a long run Sunday morning".
"I need you to watch the kids so I can do some hill repeats."
In my mind, it all translates to - please leave me the hell alone.  For 40 minutes. Please.   I promise I'll miss you too.  Except not at all.  Except as soon as the door closes and I put my music on, I'm nothing but a runner.  I don't have even a moment where I feel like a bad Mom and nobody cries or yells or fights, because it's just me. And the pavement.  Alone.

Maybe I just need an hour or three or four to myself, to run.  Who's going to join me for that?  Not many would volunteer and often I even drive to the city to join like-minded individuals for an entire morning of running.  And then, sometimes, (you're going to be jealous again, I just know it!) I go for brunch afterwards, and not to IHOP or Cora's or Denny's - to places like the Highlevel Diner and Sugarbowl!  My belly is feeling full just thinking about a post run breakie, and maybe, sometimes, a beer...at 1130am...

Aside from running, I'm also back into my regular workout routine and although my upper body strength isn't there, and my core strength is at, what feels like, an all time low, and also, my running pace is around a minute and a half slower per km than pre-baby, I'm very happy to have no restrictions, aka, pregnant belly.  The sky is the limit, and it sort of feels good to have something to improve upon!

I need to allow time to get my speed and strength back, and I'm giving myself permission to just run, with no expectations, which is all rather difficult.  Really and truly, the very DAY I discovered that MrS was to appear, I had never, ever in my life been so on top of my running game.  I was lighter and faster than I had ever been.  I ran a PB 2:02 half in the morning, and was trying to decide how I would tell my husband that our brood was to grow by one more that very evening.

And what a WILD ride it's been every since that day!

The new guy is just over two months old and as soon as I had begun to think that we would never find our rhythm and I would just always be forgetting there are three of them, (kidding Mom, kidding.  Kinda...) I found myself wondering what it even felt like when there were only four of us.

He is such a cool kid and the girls totally adore him.  Like, this boy has no idea how loved he is!
I'm quite sure they won't feel the same way as he grows and decides he'd like to play with/crash together/destroy their toys!

For the time being, I'm going to try and slow down and enjoy the snuggles and frequent napping of our last (sniff...) baby and the new fullness our family is enjoying as a five-some.

Life.  Is.  Good.

Also, as a side note, and something I'm trying really hard not to dwell on, the weight is coming off, with quite a lot of calorie juggling and carb-figuring out.  Slow and steady.  I've got a lifetime to live at my "goal weight", so there's no timeline and setbacks are to be expected.

Seriously, life is so good.