Yippee Kay-Yay

So the scale moved this week! Yahoooooooooooo

And someone lost 2 pounds! During Thanksgiving week, no less! I'd like to credit running. So good to be running again...although really slow!

This brings my grand total to just shy of 40 pounds in 8 1/2 weeks. But, there is still work to be done.

Workouts have been AWESOME and I'm so lucky that my little guy and my big guy (Matt) are allowing me to do them. Matt came home really fast after work yesterday just so that I could run outside instead of the dreadmill. It meant a lot to me. Also, Matt's Mom has been great and has watched JayZ a few times so I could hit the lap pool during the lunchtime open swim. I'm very lucky to have this kind of support around!

No biking yet. Haven't gone there. I know it's all mental, but I'm still a little afraid to put my butt on the saddle, despite it having 8 weeks to recover. Maybe this weekend I'll be brave.

Here's what things are looking like so far:

Monday: 4 mile run on dreadmill, 10:10 pace. Core work and lunges. (let's just say that core work is quite humbling when your core was ballooned to smithereens for 9 months. OWIE.)

Tuesday: 22oo yard swim with kick drills (ew), pull drills, and 12X50s. I held my 50s at a pretty consistent pace. 20 minutes of yoga. (Shout-out to "Inhale" on the Oxygen Network and my TiVO for letting me have yoga on demand.)

Wednesday: 30 minutes of yoga AM. 4 mile run outside--10:07 average pace, with my last mile (mostly into the wind) at 9:55!!!! I never thought I'd be so excited about a sub-10 mile. I was as happy as when under normal circumstances I run a sub-7 mile.

Today I'm feeling a little sore from the above so I will just most likely do a little more core work and take it easy otherwise. This Sunday I am looking forward to actually doing a run with my running buddies and then have a training seminar afterwards!

And, it's official. I am signed up for the Cleveland Half Marathon in May '08. Plunked down the ci-zash. I'm in. Not even going to attempt to set a time goal until I get closer, but I will be there. I'll be wearing a number again.

And that feels good.

And now, a dose of cuteness...a Through The Wall outfit...

What it means to put a number on

Yesterday, for the first time in a long time, I got to put a number on again. A race number. 564, to be exact.

It felt really, really good to put a number on again.

It was strange--usually for a 5K, I'm with my buddy Canada Jenn, and we are plotting how to PR. I get nervous. I have to pee. And then I have to pee again. And by then the line's inevitably too long, and I can't, and I worry. And we line up. And we go go go as fast as we can and I usually run the first mile at a pace I have no business running and I wheeze and occasionally feel like I'm going to puke. Sometimes I see a PR. Usually I don't, so then we talk about how we could have done this or that, and how we could have done better and "if I just would learn not to go out so fast "blah blah blah. And then there's a banana, and water, and if we have time, some coffee.

Yesterday, there was none of that.

For starters, there was no Canada Jenn. My friend is gone and in Peoria, Illinois. And I was a little sad about this. My friend I spent so much time racing with for so many years is gone and isn't coming back. So our weekly chat sessions will have to do.

And then, there was no thoughts of a PR. Or anything resembling fast, really. There was still the chance of wheezing and puking though. I tried to run 3 miles outside for the first time on Monday and it did NOT bode well. After a painstakingly slow 1.5 miles, I mostly shuffled home, dejected. I had really begun to doubt I'd be able to even finish this little 5K race.

But it's an important 5K race. It's for a wonderful cause and a wonderful person, whom I never got the chance to meet before she passed away of breast cancer at age 38. But my Mom did. She taught her 3-year-old daughter that year, as the little girl's mom bravely battled her cancer. She even made a special storyboard for the three year old class that goes along with the story, "There Was an Old Woman Who Swallowed a Fly." My Mom still uses it with her classes today. From what my Mom tells me, she was a brave and special woman. And this race honors her memory and legacy.

So what did this race mean? What does any race mean?

For many, a cause. Because she isn't around anymore to hug her son, but I can. And my Mom can still hug me. That's why I ran.

Because sometimes just lining up is exciting. Smiling, waving, and enjoying the starting line with friends. Sometimes that's what we're there for.



Sometimes we're there to push ourselves and our boundaries. For me, yesterday, that meant running the whole 5K seven weeks postpartum and feeling great. Knowing I could have gone faster and farther. Surprising myself and once again, being so proud of this body--this thing that does so much more than get me from Point A to Point B.

Yesterday I was there for those reasons, but also to run with my Mom, who I am so proud of. She pushes herself and, like me, sometimes doubts...but never, ever, ever gives up. And sometimes feels like she has to hurl at the end.

Just like me. :)

She tried to get me to go on without her, yesterday. My goal was to keep up with her and she kept feeling like she was holding me back, which was how I was afraid I'd feel. I know that feeling, and it's not fun. So there was no way I was going to leave her, no matter what. Every time she told me to "go ahead," I said NO WAY. Why? So I could finish 1 minute ahead of her? That's not what the number was about this day.

"We're in this thing together," I told her around mile 2. And she finished strong--we both did--and got to hug at the end. Which, I remembered, was part of the reason why I put the number on in the first place.

564 didn't mean what 2198 did. But in many ways, it means even more.

It means that I'm back to enjoying something that helps me grow and discover lots about myself. And being able to hug my mom at the end. And then going home and being able to snuggle with my son.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Let's Not Get Ahead of Ourselves

Reasons to do a little jig:

1. I can wear my old jeans...WITH a Bella Band, and it is not pretty. I basically have all muffin top to still lose. BUT--I can get in them and wear them if I chose, and the last time I tried 3 weeks ago there was NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO way. So yay!

2. The scale didn't budge for the first time this week...boooo...but I can do a little jig because of the above, and because a few other things are fitting better. So apparently things are "rearranging."

3. Yesterday, during my 2nd time in the pool since JayZ, I swam 100 yards in under 1:30. My jaw about hit the bottom of the pool. The other 3 100s I did totally blew, but it was a nice little boost for a second!

4. I got a HAWT little Brooks Hoodie Number at my fave local running store. I had a gift certificate from my birthday and had been saving it until I could actually run again. Yahoo! It's officially my comeback shirt.

5. The Buckeyes pulled it off today, and I totally did not expect them to.

Now, why I should NOT do a little jig:

1. Trying on those cute little running skirts on clearance at said local running store is a HORRIBLE IDEA when you've still got 20 pounds or so of muffin top to lose. HORRIBLE. WE'll definitely have to wait a few months for that. Ew.

Six Week Smiles

Monday I got a smile.

A real smile.

Not an "I just pooped" smile.

And it was amazing. And I just knew it would be a good day.

I went to the Doctor's for my six week checkup. Got all checked out, and passed with flying colors. I bombarded her with questions, just so I wouldn't get "yelled" at for doing anything wrong, like I did after 4 weeks.

"Can I run?"

Yes.

"Can I swim?"

Yes.

"Can I lift weights?"

Yes.

"Can I do core work?"

YES ALREADY.

"Can I leap tall buildings in a single bound?"

Okay, maybe I didn't go THAT far.

So of course, you know what I did that night. I hit my treadmill.

I was pretty nervous. I mean, I've heard all kinds of horror stories about the first run. How bad it's going to suck. That you will piss all over yourself. I laced up my shoes which hadn't been laced for this purpose for a looooooooong time. I stood on it for an extra minute or two, and was a little afraid to push the button.

My intentions were to walk four minutes and run two at a slow pace. For 30 minutes. If I could.

Deep breath.

Beep.

I started...and then it was four minutes in. And time to run again.

So I did.

And it. was. awesome.

There was no pee. There was no suckage. It was slow, of course, but it felt so good. I felt like I was seeing an old friend again. I made it the 30 minutes with my plan, feeling GREAT.

See? I knew it would be a good day.

Lots of stretching later, I took a shower and gave the little guy a bath. A different post-workout routine, but one I'll be getting used to as my roles are shifting.

The next day, I decided to try a swim. Again, a little nervous. I hadn't been in the pool since September, and at that point, I was in a whale-like state. Would I be able to get through the workout I wanted to?

Warmup: 200 swim, 100 kick, 200 pull

4X50s with :25 rest (drill/swim)

100 kick

4X100 with :25 rest

300 CD

1500 yards

A short workout, but one with some purpose to it. What would my 100s look like? I had no idea and feared the worst.

You know what? They weren't too bad. They were, without too much effort, about 10-15 seconds off where they are when I'm in peak shape. That's a lot in swimming time, I know...but 10 seconds was less than I thought it would be. So I've got that going for me.

Which is nice.

Today, another run. I started off with 3 minutes of walking, then 3 of running. Then two of walking, and four of running.

So far, so good.

Two more of walking, and five of running.

Still good.

Two more of walking, and six of running.

Three walking to cool down.

I've never had so much fun running so slow and taking walk breaks. JayZ slept in his bouncy seat the whole time. I think he knew how much it would mean to me to get this little run in.

As I was running, I was listening to the new Foo Fighters...highly recommended, by the way. The first track particularly struck a chord.

What if I say I'm not like the others?
What if I say I'm not just another one of your plays
You're the pretender
What if I say I will never surrender?

It's amazing how much I got done this morning. I fed, I burped, I changed, I pumped, I ate, I drank, I changed, I ran, I stretched, I showered, I cleaned, I fed, I snuggled.

All before 11am.

It's possible, I think, to pull this off somehow. I'm learning as I go, and I'm sure it's not going to be easy.

But that smile. You don't even understand...I can't even begin to explain...that smile, that smile that will make me do anything to protect him. That's what it's all about now.

The rest is just icing on the cake.

So, I'm back. But I'm definitely not the same...not just physically, either, but that's painfully obvious. I've been permanently changed and am changing more every day.

But I can still run.

And I can still swim.

And now I can do those things and get a smile.

But it made sense...for a second.

So I had this theory.

The theory was, that, after consulting with several friends with newborns, formula costs an average of anywhere from $15-25/week.

I am nursing, which costs zero dollars a week.

So I think that since my knockers are saving us, let's say, $25 a week, than it's only fair to use that $100 a month and put it towards a sweet new tri bike.

Right?

I mentioned this theory to Matt, who replied by raising an eyebrow and saying, "How many bikes does one person really need?" to which I replied, "Well, that's obvious....three...one road, one mountain, and one tri...and I only have two."

Then I got a look like I had just asked for a poop sandwich for dinner.

The theory holds well, until I considered that perhaps the $25 a week my girls are saving us could probably be better spent on, oh, maybe a college fund...or putting food on the table...or paying the electric bill...

Sigh.

I thought it made perfect sense. For about five minutes.

Oh well.

The Inevitable Conversation

Mind: Next week is six weeks already.


Body: Yep. I'm still recovering.


Mind: I can't believe it's been six weeks already.


Body: Still recovering. You hear me?


M: I can't even put into words how much I love him.


B: That was all me, by the way. I grew that.


M: Seriously. More and more every day.


B: You're welcome.


M: I can tell things aren't the same. Anywhere.


B: Ya think?


M: I get down on myself sometime for not having things instantly back to normal.


B: Give me some time, for crying out loud. Look at what I just did. Can I have a little credit? Please?


M: I wonder if I can start running...or should I say, run/walking (aka wogging) next week?


B: I wish you'd give it a rest and chill out already.


M: I hope I can.


B: You're going to get frustrated if you think you can just go back to the way it was instantly.


M: I know, I know! Seriously, I know. I'm ready. I'm ready for the first "this sucks and I just peed my pants" run.


B: (No you're not.)


M: I'm slowly but surely dropping this weight, and that's good.


B: Once again, I JUST GREW A PERSON. CUT ME SOME FRICKEN SLACK.


M: My stomach looks like a deflated balloon.


B: SERIOUSLY I can't even talk to you right now.


M: I signed up for the Turkey Dash again this year...I know I won't be out at the bars driving my drunk best friend around until 3am like last year so maybe I'll actually make it?


B: If you think you can run the whole thing, you're on crack.


M: I KNOW!!!!! I'm fully accepting the fact that I will be wogging.


B: (No you haven't.)


M: It will be fun just to be out there and at a race again.


B: Don't forget. I just baked a person for you, so no getting pissy at being slow for the first few months.


M: I know!


B: (No you don't.)


M: No, REALLY. I know, I know, I know. You're much smarter than me. I think I finally understand that. You got me here. And you got me this:

...and because of that, I respect you now more than I ever have in my entire life.

B: Well it's about time.

M: I wonder if I will be OK to start running next week....?

B: Oh brother.

This Just Isn't Supposed to Happen

My heart goes out to the wife, family, and friends of Ryan Shay. This is a sad day for distance running...wow.

Thoughts and prayers to those that knew and loved him. Very sad stuff.