"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.

Three Cheers for Compression Gear!

Little Mister is rounding the bend to the 4 week mark, and life is starting to resemble a routine I was once familiar with.
Normal?
No.
Three kids feels like a juggling act, and the only organized activity we're committed to is soccer twice a week!
He is an exceptional kid, already, and I'm sure there will come a time that I will complain about him, but now is not it.
His name means Little Star, and so far he's shooting high!  (Waawaa - good one, hey!)

A week or so post babe, I felt great.  Actually, truth be told, the day after baby came I felt great, but it took around a week for me to start thinking about getting back to exercise.  Then I decided to give myself another 10 days just to be sure my body was going to go with me, and not against.

So, the day before Sterling was three weeks old, I laced up my runners, plugged in my music, pulled on some of the fitness world's greatest invention - compression, and without my watch (which was exceedingly difficult!), gave myself permission to walk 1km, or "jog", or run a 1-and-1, or whatever - if that's how I felt.
I have a regular 5.5km loop that I do while training that includes some inclines and hills and different terrain, and it also has two short cuts if I ever feel totally lousy or sore or injured.  One makes a 3km loop, the other around 4.5km.
I ran the entire 5.5km.
I felt friggin' fantastic and as soon as my runners hit the 'crete, I felt home again and I could not wait to get into my stride!  I had new music on my iPod, and a new pair of shoes and I just felt, well, light!

Got home, iced my buggered ankle, because it always nags, and then also sat on the ice for a bit.
My "birthing" bones are maybe not quite back in place!

Pain and soreness are a normal part of running, actually, exercise in general.  There will almost always be some kind of discomfort.  Learning to listen to your body (hence, losing the watch!), and respect its limitations is part of the process.  Knowing that a nagging ankle pain is alright, for me, so long as the pain doesn't change into a piercing pain, or being confidant that a little bit of foot pain in new shoes is totally normal, or even pushing through a set of squats with a PR weight - are all part of training - although everyone's pain is different and completely subjective.
I only know me.
I don't know anyone else's body.
If you're new to exercise, the "getting to know your body" thing can take a long time.  Years, even.

I ran again two days later.  The same 5.5km loop and felt great, but not as great as the previous time.
Part of getting my groove back will be getting accustomed to running "stuff".  Growing thicker skin on parts of my feet prone to blisters, perhaps losing a toenail or two, and even increasing my water in the days leading up to mileage increases to hydrate my body.
There is a whole culture of runners who would read all of this and just nod their heads.
"Aw yes, I'd run the whole thing too!"
"Mmm,hmm, new music was probably just what you needed!"
"Oooooh, yeah, losing toenails isn't the most glamorous thing about running"

Three week old baby, 11km training week.
Can't be mad at that!

I love it, and I've missed it and I'm super stoked to start training.
Sunday long runs, I'm coming for you!  I need to be into the 20s by late August so I'd better get at 'er!

I've got to confess though that I put on a few pounds during this pregnancy and while I was running I could feel parts of my body bounce about a billionth of a second out of pace with my shoes.
That sucked.
I've got around 25 pounds to lose to be back where I was before baby and I'm not so concerned about the numbers as I am about the bounce thing...
That sucked.

And Now We are a Train

We've ventured out since baby's birthday twice.
Yesterday was the first time I had all three by myself, and I realized that when we are alone, we must be a train.
Bucket seat under one arm, little girl in other hand, big girl on other side of little girl.
A train.
It felt a bit like a three ring circus.
We will adjust and this will be our normal.
Right?

Wow.  We have three kids.  THREE!

How did this tiny beautiful creature come to be a part of our family?
Here is his story:

After four, that's right, you're reading right, four, false starts, or prodromal labour, and ten extra days, baby Adams began his real journey into the world.

On the morning of May 14, I started having some contractions.
Again.
I had started to believe that I was just going to have to live as a pregnant person forever.
I could make it work.
People live with all sorts of challenges.
This would be mine.

Quickly, my contractions were coming around 4 minutes apart, and so for about an hour, my life was lived four minutes at a time.
During my contractions, as I was breathing and gritting through my teeth, "Audrey!  Get!  Dressed!", the little girl was copying my breathing.
Funny stuff.
Unless your uterus is gripping your torso.
Phone husband.  Get home.
Phone Grandma.  We're coming with girls.
Phone birth centre.  We'll meet you there and it.  Is.  On.

Arrive at birth centre around 9 am.
Contractions had slowed to 8 min apart.
Then.  Nothing.
WHAT?!?!  AGAIN?!?!

4-5cm dilated, so we're not going home, but no contractions.
"Lovely, helpful, kind midwife.  I'm concerned that this baby has a big head and/or is big and so is not staying in the right place to keep labour going."
She assures me that this baby is not big and the head is a perfect, small size.

Four must be the lucky number, because during the day my labour would pick up, full steam ahead, and then stop.  Four times.
We walked.  Alot.  I swayed and squatted and sauntered and paced.
After another walk at around 4pm and a quick run to the Mac's store for food (nuts, cheese and juice - fuel!), we just made it in the door of the birth centre and I paced through a few more extremely uncomfortable contractions so I could be sure this was it.
Water is natures epidural.  Truly.
When your body eases into the tub, the contractions become suddenly calm, and easier to manage.
Having said that, in the moments before the baby is born, there isn't a more intense feeling in the world.
I know what the pain is for, and that the end result is our baby's arrival, and that each crazy contraction lasts for only a short time, but holy Mother F'er, those things are something else!
The last contractions don't even have a slow build up.  They just pounce on you and you scramble to grab someone.  Anyone so you can just live through the next moments as your baby moves towards his exit.

Hopped in the tub around 5pm and by 545pm, Mr.Sterling Murray Adams made his debut.

Entering the Race, the Mompetition

Whether we have children or not, it seems that we have an opinion on parenting.

When you have no children, you have no chips in the pot, so to speak, and therefore there are no consequences for what you say.
We've all said, "I'll never do that when I have kids!", or "My kid will never be like that!".
If you do, or do not have children and you've said or thought something along these lines, do yourself a favour and stop.

The fastest lesson I ever learned once my first little person arrived, was to  never say never.  Never.
You have no idea how you're going to deal once the kids arrive.  You.  Have.  No.  Idea.

At the end of the day, you are going to make choices for your children that you and your hubby, or partner, or maybe just you, have to live with.  There are going to be times you wish you had made a different choice, but we do the best we can with what we have at the time.  The toughest thing about parenting is never knowing what the right answer or decision is, and I think that when this thought runs through your head, you are evolving and that makes you a good Mom.  If we are always questioning ourselves, then we are always trying to be better, and even though it would be easier to just blindly trust that every choice we've made was the perfect one, it is more natural to be skeptical and critical of ourselves.

I've been reading a lot about "Mom Shaming" and nothing infuriates me more than this.

The fact that one woman can think that she's superior to another because of the choices she happened to make, is unthinkable.
Having children is the hardest thing we will ever do.  If it's easy, you're doing it wrong.
None of us needs to be criticized for our parenting choices, because trust me when I say, we're already doing that ourselves.

Mom Shaming comes in many forms, unfortunately.  Everything from our parenting choices to our choice in school, to our post-baby bodies can be the target of Mom Shaming.

I'm including a post I read on Facebook awhile ago that struck a chord with me and I want to share it again because no matter what choices you make, you are a great Mom and you do need to have faith in that.  And also, be understanding of other Moms' decisions, even if it's not the ones you might make.

Maybe we can stop "Mompeting" and collaborate?
Idealistic?  Maybe...

Why Would Anyone DO That?!?!

I just dropped off the big kid at school and came home to put down the small one for a nap.

The big one runs into the classroom when the door opens without even looking back.
So when I was putting the small one down for her nap, I snuggled her for a lot little longer than I normally would.

I stared at her as she softly snored in my arms.  Feeling nothing but love.

I could never, ever get tired of that.

If you ask anyone how I feel about this pregnancy, they would probably tell you that I already feel overwhelmed.
And I do.
I keep saying, "Why would anyone do this?  Why would anyone have three, THREE children!?"
I'm not naive.  I know that bringing another little person into our family will absolutely be overwhelming.
I've had people tell me that we're going to have out hands full.

If they think we're going to have our hands full, they should see our hearts.

I think that there are days that I will be so tired I'll be teetering all day long.  Just barely keeping afloat.  I know that I will likely yell a little bit more for a few months while my patience is constantly run out before 9am, because I've had another night with next to no sleep.

I think that I will also have days that I simply cannot believe that this is my life.  Who does this?  Who gets to have three amazing, beautiful children and an awesome, supportive husband?  And we all get to live under one roof?!?!

I am consciously trying to enjoy these last weeks of pregnancy.  I'm doing my best not to feel sad or disappointed about my body, the one that is growing a person.  A miraculous human being.  I am enjoying the movements, for the most part and I am remembering that at no other time in my life, will I be able to blame the scale on something TOTALLY legitimate!  I want to cherish and love this time, because although I definitely have moments when I'm "done", I need to focus on what's happening and have faith that my body will return, in time, and with hard work, and that my family will adjust to this new chapter, eventually.

I am so excited to get to the training and racing, but I know that I need to stop and focus on my family too, and if I can involve them in the training and racing, I'm golden.
I don't want to cheat my children out of anything because I am too short-sighted to see that their lives are happening as well.  Yet I know that I would be doing them no service if I didn't pursue my own dreams, while simultaneously being their Mom.

That's some kinda balance, wouldn't 'ya say?

I've got a ton of support, sometimes in the form of opinions and advice, but I'm trying to see it as encouragement and not disapproval or criticism.
Our family will be enduring a challenging adjustment in the coming months, so if I'm nearly absent, pardon me and know that my phone will be piling up with audio blog ideas!

I snapped a quick pic of the small one after I put her down in her crib to nap.
Is she not one of the most beautiful creatures you ever saw!?!
(She's also funny as hell and a pure joy to be around!)

I'm always so happy when they're sleeping!  ;p

Visualization

Our biggest kid is spending the week with Nana & Papa up North this week, which means I've got only one child, and a LOT of freedom!
It's been a good week.  One kid feels like a vacation!

I can't say I don't miss lil A like crazy, though.  She's such a cool broad.

I've been able to get a few things checked off my list in the way of race season prep, so I'm feeling confident now that I'll be able to get myself to the start line of the few races I've registered for.

I'm planning to re-try the Melissa's Road Race in Banff, as I had to sell my bib last year due to my buggered ankle and some nagging morning sickness.  I'll be running a half marathon when this littlest is around 4 months old.
This is the soonest I've ever attempted this distance.

I was able to also book our Disney resort for the weekend of the Goofy race.
Baby will be around 7 months old when I stand at those starting corrals.

I might feel kind of nervous, or scared, or even filled with trepidation at the idea of completing these races.
But I'm not.

I've been using visualization for so long that I kind of forgot what it was called!

Seeing myself out running, pushing the two little ones while the biggest is in school, or riding her bike along side me.  Feeling the excitement and accomplishment that race day brings.  Imagining myself, prepping my gear the night before each of my races in Disney World.

And my favourite one of all, seeing myself cross the finish line, having a medal placed around my neck, where my family is there to hug me and I'm able to hold them as I add the personal triumph of another race to my roster.

That one can make me cry, even though it's all imaginary!

I think that visualization is so very important when you have goals because it allows you to see only the end result.  There will be challenges and set backs along the way, but visualization doesn't have to include that.  It's never a bad idea to try and predict what kinds of difficulties you might encounter, so you can prepare a plan of attack, however, for myself, I usually use visualization to see myself achieving my goals.

And getting to the start line of each and every one of my races will begin with just a step.  And then another, and another.  I know I can do it, and I'm not naive in thinking that there won't be a ton of work to do to get there.  I'm even visualizing myself making extra wise food choices, as I'll need to be shedding some baby weight in order to make these distances easier on my body.  However, I'm simply not allowing myself to see any other outcome than the most victorious one.

A positive attitude, a mega supportive husband and family, and whole lot of visualization, combined with a lot of quality training - which translates to hills and speed, in my mind - as well as one run for distance alone, and not time, makes the perfect equation for the races I've got lined up.  I hope!

I think my physiotherapist and I may become good friends as well.  But that's a post about maintenance and injury prevention, and I'm sure I'll be visiting that topic in the not-too-distant future!

In the meantime, here's a link to a video for a song that's been making me feel very motivated lately.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ub9RSrVcBvs

Passing It On

Disclaimer:  There is a naughty word in this one.  Try holding back the four letter words when you drop a full gallon of milk from the fridge.  There were milk splatters within a 6ft radius of the fridge.  (NOTE: I didn't actually say this word, I just thought it.  Over, and over, and over.)

As parents, what is our role?
Is it to do our best, with what we have, to raise independent, strong people?  Are there more words, perhaps, better words to describe the process of raising kids?  Probably.  But I'm tired.  Spent.  Let me give you a glimpse into the day we've had.

I'm trying to rest a little more because braxton hicks contractions have become a daily part of my routine.  Y'know, my uterus is contracting.  Every day.  In preparation for birth.  Which is approximately 13-15,000 weeks away...
Moms don't get sick days though, so instead of putting up my feet and hydrating, our day began at 6:24am, and hasn't stopped since.
Cue:  Ellie crying.  6:24am.  Audrey is already in our bed because at some point in the night, a time which neither of us can pinpoint, she scampered in.
"Mom, Ellie's awake.  Can I watch a cartoon on your phone?"
"No, Audrey.  It's still night time and Ellie is going to join us so we can all get some more sleep."

Ha HAHA ha..haha

No one else thinks this is a good idea.
So, at 6:24am, every person in our house started their day.

I am trying to be extra grateful, and patient and loving because in our extended family, there have been three deaths in the past couple of weeks.
I know that funerals shouldn't motivate me to be my best, but they do encourage me to appreciate the things that I might normally yell about.

I dragged my butt around until about 10am.  I tried to avoid doing anything, because, remember? I am supposed to be resting?  However, no one else thinks this is a good idea.

Cue:  Audrey comes downstairs wearing no pants (the pants were pj bottoms.  Try not to judge), carrying two hand towels from our bathroom.
"What happened, Audrey?"
"Well, Mom, it was just a' accident.  It's OK."
"OKaaaaaaaaaaaaay, so what happenend?"
"Well, I just went pee on your toilet, but then there was more pee.  A lot more pee, and I wasn't on the toilet anymore.  But it's OK.  I cleaned it up."

So, I try to follow her trail and clean up all the droplets of pee, pee towels and, somehow, the pile of pee covered pj's and undies on our bathroom floor.

At this point, I'm thinking that I'm entitled to a "get-out-of-jail-free-card" for the rest of the day.  There can't possibly be more than cleaning pee.  All.  Through.  Your.  House.

The universe had other plans.

Not 10 minutes later, there was about a half gallon of milk spilled from one end of the kitchen to the other end of the living room.
Because it fell out of the fridge.

The first thing out of Audrey's mouth after this happenend?
"Mom, why did you put the apple juice like that.  You made the milk fall out."

Now, when one has an accident, or makes a mistake, why is the first instinct to think, "WHO THE FUCK CAUSED THIS/MADE THIS HAPPEN TO ME?!?!"

We try to place blame onto someone else, immediately, because we're trying to avoid admitting that we've made this mistake.
That would mean admitting that we're imperfect.  That we did something wrong.  That we're (gasp) fallible.
And it appears, my husband and I are passing this onto to our kids.

Yuck.
There's no easier way to see your own flaws, than when they start pouring out of your babes' mouths, or showing up in their behaviours.

Also, it's easier to identify these traits, and hopefully make a few positive changes so that everyone benefits!

So, I am resolving to be more accountable for my actions.  To show my kids that it's OK to make mistakes and that finding out who did what, or how such and such happened, is secondary.  Period.  It's powerful to own your actions and mistakes, and it's so important for them to know that looking for someone to blame only creates a loser out of a situation that has neither a winner, nor a loser.

And the day carried on - one child ate the rest of an advent calendar in our bed and wiped their chocolate hands on our sheets.
Deliver said child to preschool after threatening to take away school several times (I'm weak, I know), put other child down for MUCH needed nap, have dog wake child after 25 minutes, only to have her proceed to tear the lower portion of the house apart...including, but not limited to, taking all of the folded clothes out of the hamper, removing all 300 pairs of shoes from the closet, playing with precisely 7 toys from 7 different bins...
And then it's time to retrieve older child from school and begin again.

Is it beditme yet?