The Little Things

I've got a lot to be thankful for.  Yes, I know it's almost Christmas - I don't have my holidays mixed up...although after the past few days I just might start confusing things due to lack of sleep.  Kid #3 spent roughly 24 hours at the hospital being treated for pneumonia.  Seven years ago kid #2 (at 12 months old) had the same experience, but this time was vastly different.  As some of you might have already heard the story, I'll explain for those who haven't - after a few days battling a ridiculously high fever (106!) using both Tylenol and Motrin concurrently to try and break it, kid #2's lips suddenly turned blue then pink a few times - it was almost hard to believe I saw what I did -it was an "eyerub" moment - but when I saw it a few more times it was definitely real...so off to the ER we went.  Long story short, after being suspiciously asked where she got the bruise on her forehead (she was a toddler for goodness sake - and even now at almost 8, is still a bit of a clutz), threatened DYFS by the doc because her vaccinations weren't up to date (even though she was started on them), and traumatized by catheterization...they found that she had an "infiltrate" in her lungs via X-ray so we were admitted for treatment of pneumonia.  While our experience with the ER was not one I'll remember fondly, the pediatric wing where we wound up was GREAT.  The nurses, staff and doctors were sensitive, caring and great with her - and thankfully she got much better very quickly.

This past Tuesday, after his cough just wouldn't get better and on the advice of our family doc, we took kid #3 to the ER (oh no - dejavu!) for a chest X-ray to check for pneumonia.  While the wait to be seen was much longer than last time, I never got the feeling that I was being scruitinized or judged by anyone...and it just so happened that the ER doc was the husband of a good family friend (a very welcome, friendly face I might add).  I felt like my kid's best interest was being put first...he was hardly traumatized (the IV line was a bit rough...but nothing a promise of Lego Star Wars toys wouldn't fix).  I suppose it helped that there were some very...ahem...interesting characters around, which definitely kept me entertained for the few hours we waited for a room on the pediatric ward.  After the boy conked out (a thankful break from the incessant "I want to go home") we were finally moved to the 4th floor.  Mike showed up just as we were heading into the room and like a true tag-team effort we switched and I headed home. 

His opinion couldn't be more clear

Fast forward to about 10am the next day...after opening the cafe and getting things in order, I headed out to find some Legos with Darth Vader in them - I managed to find one with lots of clone troopers and Anakin Skywalker, who I figured would suffice since he would become Darth Vader anyway.  Another tag team switch - Mike headed out and I settled in, happy that the boy approved of my purchases...not once in the 2 hours it took me to put everything together did he indicate he needed to "get out of here"...SCORE!  We saw a few friendly faces over the course of the day - his Pre-K teacher stopped by with a present, a doctor who worked in a different area came in at his sister-in-law's request to check on us (Thanks, Jen!), and a friendly face from the kid's school was there for her own daughter's foot surgery.  We felt very special - the kid even opened up and was animated with a total stranger...not a usual occurrence. 

Thankfully, kid #3 was discharged that afternoon, and we headed home...it's really such a luxury to sleep in your own bed and be in a comfortable environment, surrounded by family.  He's made such a speedy recovery, that it's hard to believe he's the same lethargic, sickly looking kid from earlier this week.  At least one worry is resolved for now...and I'm thankful my worries now include when I'm going to wrap and hide all the gifts, make the cookies, finish work stuff, catch up on much needed sleep...? 

Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas to all - may your worries be small and your days be joyful!

Wimp out, or face the music?

So do I face the music, or wimp out and pretend that ignorance is bliss?

As I may have alluded to before, this time of year is a love/hate kind of time for me...LOVE the magic of Christmas, especially when my kids get caught up in the real meaning of the season.  I LOVE Christmas Eve mass...the music is something I look forward to every year...I LOVE the decorations, sights, smells and overall feeling that Christmas is coming...BUT...I really, really, really LOVE Christmas cookies.  I HATE how I feel once I've pigged out on them with reckless abandon - they're everywhere, so it's impossible to avoid them and impossible not to eat them.  I know - nothing's impossible - I choose to act like a kid in a candy shop and stuff my face.  But it sure feels like it's beyond my power of self-control.

Anyway, regarding whether to "face the music"...the super cool folks at our "Pro-Activity Lab" have devised a sort of holiday experiment - we're all faced with high calorie, high fat treats this time of year...and most, if not all of us will freely indulge in the gluttony...but does this roughly 2 week binge really have an overall effect on our blood glucose, triglycerides and cholesterol levels?  In order to find out, they're asking for test subjects to come in early on Wednesday (Dec 21) morning, having fasted from the night prior to take a "before" sample...then come back on Tuesday, January 3rd to take another fasting "after" sample.  Sounds pretty simple, right? (This is just the thing I really miss about being a "lab-rat" - I love being a part of experiments; writing up the hypothesis, putting together the testing procedure, administering the test and then analyzing the results...yep, I'm a geek.  But I'm ok with that...) 

Only problem is, I'd have to be a test subject this time...and do I really want to know what all those goodies are doing to me?  On the one hand, of course!  The more you know, the better- particularly when it comes to our health...if there's something borderline or needs to be addressed, the sooner the better.  On the other hand...I really like cookies.  Will knowing how much (particularly if a lot) damage is being done, ruin a happy part of the holidays for me?  Sigh.  I suppose if that were the case, I'd have to start looking for other, non-Christmas cookie associations to make with this time of year...and I can't think of any right now.  Maybe over time?

So, I'm in.  From lab-rat to...well, a lab rat.  And I'll publish my numbers...stay tuned...Gulp!

(If you're interested in partaking in the study too, click here to register or call 730-6640 for more information)

'Tis the season to be stressed-out

Feeling a bit stressed out by the fact Christmas is only 17 days away?  I am.  Oh boy.

I miss the days where all I had to do was show up on Christmas Eve, eat some pasta for dinner, pick my pre-portioned rice pudding to see if I had a red hot candy* buried in there somewhere...and then help clean up the kitchen (in record time) and then....PRESENTS! 

*Finding the red hot candy in the rice pudding meant you got to open the first present - an old Swedish tradition my mom found in a book somewhere...but you also had to leave a bowl in the garage to appease the mischief "elf" or you'd have a year's worth of trouble (a nice way to have seconds without anyone the wiser - my mom LOVES rice pudding!)

Anyway, now that I'm the mom...there's a whole heckofalot of planning that goes into Christmas; decorating, present purchasing, "Santa-communicating", a couple different types of wrapping paper that must be hidden along with the presents so the worldly kids won't realize Santa and mom use the same type of paper...what a coincidence!  Living with the in-laws doesn't leave very many hiding spots, thus the reason I haven't done much shopping yet. 

So...to keep my sanity, I've decided I'm going to try not to sweat the small stuff.  I'm also looking for something my family and I can do for those less fortunate...I figure that while we live in a great area, they need to see that the world does not begin and end in our neighborhood and philanthropy is a very important and rewarding aspect of life.  Anyone with any ideas for families with kids under 12?  I'm all ears!

As I've also mentioned before, how we're eating is very important this time of year as well - it's almost too easy to indulge in the bad stuff because it's everywhere...just don't buy it.  If it's not in the house, it won't get eaten...

The best things to eat during the winter months are chock-full of antioxidants and vitamins...keep eating lots of fruit and veggies - "eat the rainbow" - and bypass all those highly processed carbohydrates...not only will they make you crash shortly, but any excess will go directly into storage...and 3500 calories of storage = 1 pound...dun dun dunnnnnn...

Hope you enjoy and make the most of these last few weeks of 2011...in the words of Dave Matthews, "Eat (good stuff), drink (lots of fluids) and be merry!" 

Happy Holidays...here's a few lbs!

I'm not quite sure what it is about this time of year...but ever since I can remember, all I want to do is eat, eat, eat.  Doesn't matter what it is, if it's not nailed down, I'll eat it.  I could make excuses and say that my body is trying to acclimate after having been in training mode for various races since basically February of '11...but it's consistent from year to year.  As soon as Halloween hits, look out!
I've read a few scary statistics lately, one of which is that people expect to gain a few lbs over the holidays.  The problem?  The weight stays on, which over the course of a few years translates to a 10-15 + lb total weight gain ramping up risk for some serious health issues down the road (heart disease, cancer, diabetes, to name a few).  No one is immune to the risks.

The other alarming trend I read about yesterday, is that the average American's weight perception has changed a great deal since the early 1990's.   Back in '91, men had a self reported average weight of 180 lbs, with their "ideal" weight at 171.  For women, it was 142 and 129, respectively.  Fast forward to 2011 and men report that their weight now is up to 196 (16 lb gain!) and their "ideal" weight is now up to 181 - almost exactly what they were dissatisfied with in 1991!  For women, they're now up to 160 lbs (18 lb gain!), with a self reported "ideal" weight of 138...only 4 lbs less than what they were back in '91.

Are we becoming so used to carrying around the extra weight that slowly we're becoming ok with it?  And - just a side note- has anyone else noticed that clothing manufacturers have changed their sizing methods?  I'm convinced that a woman's size 4 today was a size 8 twenty years ago.  Smart by the manufacturer...but now we're lured into feeling like since we can fit into a smaller size, we must be ok! 

So...my mission this holiday season through winter?  Answer my cravings with good stuff...if I need to snack, I need to reach for fruit, vegetables and whole grain snacks - I'm NOT buying any goodies or making sweets unless absolutely necessary (kid birthday parties, Christmas, etc.).  Consequently, I'll also be paying attention to how I feel physically and mentally as I always find the winter difficult on my psyche.  Should be an interesting experiment!

Fruitcake?  No thanks.

I'd like a half cup of tomato paste, please.

So yesterday I noticed in the news there were quite a few headlines regarding congress and the decision to label pizza as a "vegetable", or more specifically, the tomato paste on pizza.  About two tablespoons-worth.

Initially, the USDA wanted to classify a vegetable serving size of tomato paste as 1/2 cup, way too much for just a slice of pizza...so that would mean pizza would no longer meet the qualifications of a federally funded school lunch program (which says kids need a specific # of servings of vegetables per meal).

Enter Congress:  I'll refrain from getting into politics, or other "conspiratorial" opinions...but I'll just say, darn, those lobbyists from frozen foods companies are goooooood.

I'm not really sure what else to say, I'm not even sure "outrageous" even comes close to how absurd this whole thing is.  I get that tomato paste was once partly a real vegetable (or fruit, for you tomato purists) and therefore contains some vitamins or other benefits.  But as we all know, it's not just tomato paste you're eating on a pizza - you're eating highly processed pizza dough and greasy, fat laden dairy cheese along with it.  Can you seriously look me in the eyes and say those two things have health benefits without emitting a giggle or outright laugh?  I liken it to babying your car - getting it detailed, tuned up, new tires and then ramming it into a fertilizer truck.  Or maybe saving up all your money buying a whole new wardrobe, then shredding everything as soon as you get home.  Or better yet, buy a new house then set fire to it.  Hopefully the water you left running in the bathroom kept that part of the house from burning down.  That was smart thinking. 

Just because you ate some tomato sauce on bread with cheese doesn't mean the entire thing is healthy...and calling it a "vegetable" so that you can mislead kids or even parents into thinking they're doing themselves a favor is pretty darn reckless, especially in light of the fact it's now recommended kids as young as nine need to be screened for high cholesterol. 

Sheesh. 

______________________________________________________________________
Footnote:  found the following "quotes" which bear sharing from Inside Scoop SF

• “Got it, everyone? Your kids can continue stuffing their faces with as much frozen pizza as they want now. It’s essentially the same thing as eating celery.” — Gawker
• “I only hope that jellybeans continue to enjoy protected legume status.” — Gawker comments
• “Thinking about planting pizza in my garden next spring, now that Congress says it is a vegetable. Anyone know where I can buy pizza seeds? — Leo Thomas McGarry

Boo, Humbug.

Forgive me, but I hate Halloween. 

Yes, yes, I know - I'm the Scrooge of Halloween...I hate that my kids expect to purchase a new costume every year that they wear once and then crinkle up in a pile on the floor until it's eventually put away never to see the light of day again.  I hate all the scads of candy they "work hard" to collect, then expect to be able to eat in one fell swoop.  I hate that after they binge on said candy they act as if they're wild animals - one minute high as kites, the next whiny, out of control sugar-crashed messes.

That said, I do actually like seeing how excited and proud they are to don their new costumes (likely the reason I break down and purchase new each year).  I like seeing how excited they get about the whole thing - and how they start honing their bargaining skills by counting, sorting and categorizing their stash - then negotiating trades with their siblings and cousins.  Kid #1 gets even more popular;  everyone wants first dibs on the dairy-allergic kid...she has quite the bargaining power when it comes to switching out her chocolate candy for non-dairy stuff.


Anyway - I wish we could do all this with less junk...and not have a major rebellion.  All year I work hard at keeping candy and other garbage to a minimum with my kids - only to be completely derailed once October 31st arrives...and then it takes until seemingly the New Year to detox!  I actually had the audacity to tell them they could pick 10 pieces of candy to keep, and that we'd send the rest overseas to our troops...Kid #1 cried.  Hard.  Sheesh.

I get it.  Kids like treats - we all do.  But I struggle with the fact that this stuff has zero nutritional value - and the fact my kids still have a lot of growing and developing to do...I only want them to put the good stuff in, to ensure everything develops the right way...I'm certainly not saying they can't ever have a treat, but 1-2x/day EVERY day is too much in my opinion.  My thought is, we do a heckofalot of damage to ourselves when we're younger...only to pay the price when we're older.  Isn't it my job as their mom to make certain they grow up healthy?

So - I caved and let them pick 20 pieces to keep.  I got a little flak, but they understood why.  I hope that by continually talking to them about my reasons why I don't let them just eat whatever will stick someday...and those 20 pieces go PDQ...I'd like to make it to Thanksgiving already out of the mode of expecting a sweet treat after dinner every night...just in time for pumpkin pie. 

Jimmy Kimmel's Challenge "I told my kids I ate all their Halloween candy"...Quite possibly the best "Halloween" challenge ever issued...and the kids at the end are priceless. 

Marine Corps Marathon

This past weekend is one I'll never forget.  I went through the gambit of emotions leading up to and through this weekend - I'm incredibly grateful to have been able to experience the whole thing.  You never know what you're capable of until you push yourself past a point you'd ordinarily say "Uncle"...I had quite a few moments like that - particularly when I smashed up against the dreaded and very real "wall" you might hear marathoners talk about...

The weather on Saturday certainly didn't help to buoy our spirits in anticipation of the Marine Corps Marathon the following day...cold, rainy and snow dotting the sky at times...and everything looked gray.  I contemplated throwing in the towel - I'd done all the training, the race was just the icing on the cake - I can live without icing, right?  Not if my kids were around - which 2 out of 3 were - so I couldn't back down now.  On with the show...

Sunday am, met my brother in law Eric at 6am in the lobby of the hotel - no sign of rain, and I was nearly esctatic...we made a friend from West Virginia as we were walking out the door, shared a cab to the "Foggy Bottom" Metro station and squished into a fully packed train to the Pentagon.  Everyone was buzzing - my favorite part of any race - so my sprits were continually being lifted out of the funk from the day prior...we're really going to do this!

After we squeezed our way off the train, we followed the crowd as diligent lemmings do and walked for quite a while, trying to stay on sidewalks and the road so we wouldn't get our shoes wet or muddy in the grass...after a while we made it to a huge parking lot with porta-potties lining both sides - and as experience dictated, got right in line...I wasn't too terribly cold at this point - I layered up as best I could with "throw-away" clothes I'd eventually ditch at the starting line.  To whomever invented "hot hands":  you are a genius and I hope you are ridiculously rich...those little things kept my hands toasty warm all the way up through mile 7 when I finally pitched them!

Anyway, after I said good luck to Eric (who was on his way to the first corral) and squeezed in the corral with the rest of the 4:10-4:30 goal-timers I was feeling pretty good.  In fact, I was kind of dancing to the beat of the music I was listening to - but don't be fooled - it was all due to nervous energy...and the best part is that I didn't care how ridiculous I looked because I'd likely never see the handful of people around me again.  My toes and balls of my feet had now turned numb...which was a bit concerning, but didn't want to dwell on it too much.  A seemingly eternity later, we were on the move...and as we got to the actual starting line the crowd around me erupted into a big cheer as we all embarked on our 26.2 mile journey around Washington D.C.

I can't really say much about the length of the race itself, only tidbits here and there - Seeing my husband and 2 kids around mile 5, enjoying the scenery from 5-7, enjoying the Marines cheering for us at every mile marker, with everyone responding with a big cheer back (until about mile 10...then the cheers were sparse and small)...hearing the sneaker-patter against the pavement and thinking it sounded like soft raindrops on the roof, having to go to the bathroom from about mile 6 on (and since there was a long line at every porta-potty available, decided to keep pushing on), reaching the half marathon mark and attempting to mentally gear up for a "whole new race", feeling my hamstrings get progressively tighter right around mile 13, FINALLY stopping to use the porta-potty at mile 14 and losing 4 minutes in the process...

Then...the dreaded wall.  Mile 17.  When the thought came into my mind:  "This is STUPID".  It was a complete mental battle thereafter - I wanted to quit.  The next medic tent was mine - they could call Mike, he'd pick me up and we could call it a day.  No harm done. 

No.  I couldn't quit.  I had to save face - all my splits were being posted on Facebook & Twitter (did that on purpose because I knew I'd need the extra motivation), I couldn't quit in front of my kids...just keep going.  One foot in front of the other.  Don't be a baby....what ever I could think of, I tried it...being nice, being mean, pleading...reminding myself there are millions of people out there that don't ever get this opportunity...and an especially meaningful quote from a fellow PACER member Cassy Bush, "Chemotherapy is way harder than 26.2 miles".

Stopping to stretch a few times, I kept getting more and more disappointed I was losing ground with my time - but I had to stop and walk as well - my legs were so stiff and my feet were hurting - I thought for sure walking would feel better...and it did for a bit, but after a while running felt better...so I walked and ran, but kept putting one foot in front of the other - still waging war with myself in my own head...

Eventually got over the bridge into Crystal City - gobbled down a few chocolate munchkins (DELICIOUS but hard to eat when you have cotton mouth) and willed myself forward...mile 24, mile 25!  ONE MILE LEFT!  Oh crap!  One mile still to go!  Keep going...you can run this in...no more walking, no more stretching...RUN!

Our expressions upon seeing "the hill"

Finally - mile 26...only two tenths of a mile to go...but it's...uphill!  I knew it would be uphill, but I had no idea how BIG that hill would look!  So I put my head down, gathered up whatever I had left and ran up the hill...crested the top, saw the actual finish line and immediately broke into tears...Ugh...but that finish line was such an incredible sight, I'm pretty sure it's a vision I'll remember for the rest of my life.  Crossing over that line - having pushed myself mentally & physically as much as I did, was an experience I'll be forever grateful for. 

As I and the rest of the finishers around me shuffled through the chute, we received a foil blanket, a medal and photos were taken to commemorate our experience...while ordinarily I'd have loved to relish the moment, all I wanted was to find my family - and sit down.  I'm pretty sure these marathon planners include LOTS of walking in the grand scheme of the finish line to ensure we keep moving lest we stop, sit, and never get back up again. 

After an eternity, I made it up and out to the top where the runners and spectators could finally mingle and I heard Mike's voice - I looked over and saw my family and promptly broke into tears again...vowing "never" to do "this again".  Mike just laughed, gave me a hug, and all was right with the world. 

Until I tried to sit down.

Let's just say it's now day 4 post-race and I'm finally able to walk down the stairs without holding onto the railing for dear life.


Finished, and with a happy hug from kid #2

All in all, I'm pretty happy overall - I beat my first marathon time (11 years ago) by 40 minutes, and I'm glad I was able to talk myself out of quitting...and...even though I said never again...hmmm....

Ready or not...

I've not been able to sleep past 4:45a for the past couple days - yet I'm not tired (yet)...and I honestly can't believe I'm this nervous about Marine Corps. Do I feel prepared? No - though it's not for lack of training, rather my last two "long runs" didn't end well. So now I'm a head-case...can I do it? Yes, I know I'll finish...but it's that darn Bronze Belt I covet. I really, really want to earn a bronze. I'd be feeling pretty confident, too...if it weren't for those stinkin' last long runs (when I say a "bronze belt", I'm referring to our PACER Team "belt system" which rewards your efforts based on an age graded % compared to the world's elite; bronze is the sixth out of nine "belts").

Anyway, my brother-in-law, who will also be running the marathon (sub 3 hour goal, btw) recommended a three day "carbo-load"; 600g carbohydrates/day on Thursday (today), Friday & Saturday. The science behind it shows that athletes are better able to prevent hypoglycemia by increasing your body's energy stores (for endurance events greater than 2 hours). So, not having really paid any attention to carbohydrate levels in food, I figured, "no problem- I like carbs...". Well, it's now 11am and I've been eating CONSTANTLY all morning, and I'm only up to 170g consumed (after I finish this large Berry Bomb smoothie I'm currently drinking) - It's a darn good thing I work where I do - access to a lot of food and the nutritional data readily available to go with it. I'm trying to get as much as I can from other sources than just wheat - as I can't tolerate a whole lot of the stuff at once. Bottom line is, I'm sure I'll put on a few pounds, but I'm hoping it's not too much as I'll need all the oxygenation I can get without excess fat stores stealing it all!

Speaking of oxygenation, tt amazes me how much science can be involved in this whole endurance-sport thing. Hydration, proper fueling, training with enough mileage, interval training, monitoring heart rate levels, VO2max levels...Enough to make anyone's head spin.  I'm lucky this time around that I understand a whole lot more going into this marathon (not so much when I ran NYC 11 years ago) and hopefully this will help me get past the dreaded wall, and not crash & burn like I did last time.  But...we'll find out in a few days!

Ready or not, here I come...

You get out what you put in.

There are countless foundations that exist to raise funds/awareness for any number of causes; disease, animal rescue, organ donation, to name a few.  Some are huge, while others might be local groups only concerned with a small geographical area.  Some have even managed to grow big enough to be a household name, or at the very least instantly recognizeable by any member of the public. 

Two friends of mine participated in an event last weekend for one organization in particular because they both have been affected by breast cancer; one a survivor, the other a supporter and friend who walked for many people who've battled the disease. 

I'm choosing not to name names, although I'm sure many of you can guess what I'm referring to.  While I am completely impressed with how much money and awareness is raised - so much good comes from these organizations and events, especially the sense of accomplishment and comraderie by the participants - I'm at a loss when it comes to the food they offered the participants along the way.

I 100%, with all my being believe that you are what you eat.  You only get out what you put in.  When you eat, you are fueling all processes of your body - would you fill up your car's gas tank with soda and expect it to work right?  Why then would you fill your body with junk and expect nothing but optimal performance?

While I understand there were some good options for refueling along the way (such as fresh fruit and lean protein), I (just for example) wish something like salted peanuts were handed out for salt replacement instead of chips.  Or loads of fresh fruit or even dark chocolate covered strawberries were offered for dessert, rather than cakes and other treats. 

I also understand we all like to eat goodies, particularly as a reward for hard work...but isn't that kind of mentality what got us to where we are in the first place?  The top three killers of American people are preventable (source).  Including some cancers (source 1, source 2).  I would love to see these big organizations include a food awareness component...maybe the message would reach more people, and more disease could be prevented from happening in the first place, especially when it comes to our daughters and sons. 

I'd love to hear what you think...

Nope, no sasquatch here - it's only me.

T-minus 17 days (AGH!) until the Marine Corps Marathon...and although I've done my training including a 20 miler (and 22 miler this weekend) I feel REALLY pensive about the big day...am I ready?  I should be...but I don't feel as though I am...every time I think about it, I feel a little surge/jolt of adrenaline...and an "oh boy - what did I sign myself up for?"...

 "...crawl if you must, just never give up." -Dean Karnazes

I suppose I've just gotten used to the training aspect of an event...so I just "do", then get to the race and have a good day just soaking up the energy and comraderie.  But now that I'm doing something a tad more difficult...and unfamiliar...yikes.  I am not worried about finishing - I'll make it there even if I have to crawl...I'm more worried about meeting any of my goals (4 hour finish - 1st goal; 4:15 hour finish - 2nd goal; 4:30 hour finish - 3rd goal) - and about my hamstrings seizing up.  And there's the ever present issue of my feet...which have been great thus far...except that when I run a bit faster my toes really hurt.  There's enough room in the toebox widthwise...but I think the real problem may be...the shoes...are a 1/2 size...too small.  This, my friends, is a PROBLEM.  You see, I was blessed with an average height, but above average sized hands and feet. 

I'm fairly convinced I stunted my growth somewhere along the way, or my brain failed to send out the "STOP HERE" message to my hands & feet when my body reached 5 ft 5 inches.  So, if palming the basketball meant automatic greatness in the world of the WNBA, I'd be a shoo-in.  I'd also make a great clown - as my feet would fill out those damn clown shoes no problem at all.  And NOW it looks as if I might have to get an even BIGGER size shoe!?  (Ok, I'll pause for a minute to endure the teasing and jokes...right...now).

Anyway, I've been in denial for a while.  I mean, what kind of cruel joke is it that I have to go from a 10.5 to an 11?  Yes - 11.  The size most 6ft+ ladies wear.  So I might just have to resign myself to bruised toes and some loose toenails for at least until this marathon is over.  Then I might have to find another shoe that fits well...under size 11.  Or cut off my toes.

It's Not For The Weak

I remember once when I was visiting my dad in Seattle, we popped into a very small bookstore that had both new and gently used books.  It was next to a small independent coffee shop (which I'm pretty sure is the only reason why we stopped in...my dad is a small coffee shop fanatic), so after we got a regular drip coffee for me and a double bone dry cappuccino for my dad, we went over to take a look.

I happened upon a book on surgical procedures ranging from the very short & sweet to very involved.  I've always been very interested in human anatomy and how things work...so it was neat to see different surgeries documented artistically....until...I started feeling very hot.  And woozy.  And kind of sick to my stomach.  Looking at the photos in the book was making me sick!  I actually had to close it up and head outside for fresh air...what a wimp! 

Since then, along the way, I've noticed that certain things made me feel the same way - kid's loose teeth (the "hanging by a thread" kind), vomit that didn't quite make it into the toilet,  big, thick scabs that start coming loose...you get the idea.  All part of the wonderful parenting experience.  I would never have learned how truly strong my stomach can be were it not for the 3 wonderful children I've raised thus far...3 very active, wonderful kids...

This afternoon I had the privilege of adding "stitch removal" to my mom-resume (repeat knowledge for those who are "friends" of mine on FB)...and I'm quite impressed with my skills, I might add...although kid #2 is a seasoned veteran of "stitching" anyway, so she was cool as a cucumber as I removed all 7 of 'em.  It also helped that I've seen it done about 5 other times...(Kid #1 is no stranger to lacerations, either).  I was doing great too, until I got to the last one...which was tied very tight and somehow managed to heal itself in with the cut...I started getting the all too familiar feelings of heat, wooziness and nauseousness, but somehow managed to keep it together and remove the last, stubborn stitch...without the kid noticing the beads of sweat forming on my nose...

I guess I can chalk it up to life experience...the more you experience - the more adversity you face and come away from intact - the more you grow and the more you can take on without, in this case, passing out.  Although, here's to hoping for no more ER visits - I think I've grown enough in that regard!

Do Something!

So, if you've been reading this blog you know that a) I enjoy running (or jogging, to all those "fast" people out there) and b) I enjoy food.  Oh, and I also like soccer.  But training for a marathon/long weekend runs don't mesh well with the fall soccer season, so that's on hold for now...but I digress...

I enjoy putting one foot in front of the other for a long period of time...and very much like when I can run a race faster than I've been able to finish before.  However, I've seemed to somehow manage to surround myself with a bunch of overachievers.  And when I say overachievers, I mean even potential olympians.  So, whereas I might have felt I was doing pretty darn good "jogging" wise...as I neared the end of the trail last weekend, I happened to pass a few of our new friends from the NJNY Track Club and instantly felt as if I was running under water...these guys make running look so effortless at a speed that I'd likely die of a heart attack running for more than a few minutes!

Then reality came back and slapped me in the face.  Of course I'm not going to be as fast as these guys...it's literally their job to be doing what they do, and the other super speedy people around, well, they're just a little on the nutty side (sorry, Eric & Mike, but you really are).  I just very much enjoy going out and doing what I do - why mess with a good thing and make it torture?  I guess I'm a little competitive, so I like doing well...and that's good enough for me! 

So the moral of this blog is...do what you like to do - but get out there and do something! 

Hook, Line & Sinker

Adrenaline is one heckofa thing.

I went from feeling like I was struggling to "plod" along on a 6 mile training run at 9 minutes per mile to running a full 13.1 miles averaging 8:45 per mile...and feeling GREAT nearly the entire time!  The hype, excitement and maybe what you'd call a buzz in the air the day of a big event is something that I have come to love - and look forward to every year. 

I think it all started when, almost 11 years ago, I ran the NYC Marathon in honor of a HS friend who passed away from complications from Acute Promyelocytic Leukemia...at age 23.  I wasn't much of a running enthusaist then...in fact, I think I might have run as far as 5 miles once or twice, but that's about it.  After my friend passed it was quite a shock to my sheltered self - this was not the result of a car accident or old age - this was a seemingly robust, healthy kid who had her whole life ahead of her...how in the world could something like this happen? 

I worked in a building adjacent to the hospital where she recieved her chemo treatments, and had the opportunity to visit her often.  Often at first...but then as she got more sick from the treatments, I wanted to give her more space - and it was difficult to see her vibrancy fade away the longer she was there.  I have to give kudos to the nurses, doctors and staff who oversee those patients...it's a special breed of person to work in that environment for any length of time.  After her 3rd and final round of chemo, she got very sick and developed blood clots which eventually traveled to her brain, causing her death. 

Her passing was tough...tough to come to terms with and tough to face the fact that I and my peers were not invincible or immune to disease...sure, we all made stupid mistakes like driving too fast or taking dumb risks, but ultimately those things were under our control, whereas things such as leukemia were not.  Disease happened to other, older people.  Not 20-somethings.

Fast forward a month or two...a few people at the gym were discussing putting their names into the lottery for the NYC marathon that fall...would I be interested in putting mine in, too?  What!?  A MARATHON?  That's how many miles?  Someone mentioned something about Team In Training...and I thought how cool it would be to do something in my friend's honor...but a
m-a-r-a-t-h-o-n?  Yeesh.  That's really far...

I think in a moment of pure bravado, without truly thinking...I said I was in...it was only a lottery after all...what would be the chances I'd get picked?  Ha!  I'm pretty sure I cried a little when I got my official entry notice in the mail (as in Oh, CRAP!).  Now I had to do it.  No turning back...so I promptly told as many people as I could that I was going to do it so I couldn't back out...

I signed up with TNT (Team in Training) and bought a book for "first time marathoners", enlisted the help of a marathon veteran (my father in law) and mapped out a training plan.  I mapped out my long runs by odometer...I "planted" bottles of gatorade and bananas along my training routes...strategically placed areas on my route where bathroom accessibility would likely be needed, nursed bruised toes, tight IT bands and cranky knees...and still remember the triumph of completing my one and only 20 miler...after which I promptly took a long nap (while Mike raked the many, many leaves in our yard).  Most often, though...I thought of my friend.  She was the reason I was out there...I was able to see some beautiful sunrises I never would have if it weren't for her.  I never would have thought I could run more than 6 miles if it weren't for her.  I wouldn't have appreciated the fact that I could get up, get out of bed in the morning and just run anywhere I wanted to if it weren't for her.  I had so much to be thankful for...and she made me realize it.  It was an incredible gift.

So, fast forward again to November 2, 2000.  My very first experience with a HUGE endurance event...thousands of people everywhere.  I was so nervous I hardly slept the night prior...it also didn't help that I had just come down with a cold and my throat was on fire.  At the starting line, or should I say village, there were people everywhere...hanging out...some jogging around, some just sitting down and chatting over some bagels and bananas...there was even a huge tent with a mass being said inside (jam-packed, by the way)...but man, was it COLD.  Shivery cold...and overcast...miserable to me then, but probably a great racing day for those competitive runners. 

I remember being corralled like cattle and shuffled over to the Verrazano Bridge and then all of a sudden...time to go!  Everyone jogged a little...then walked a bit...even had to stop short a couple of times because everyone else just...stopped.  Then it was jog..weave...jog...jump over some water bottles, dodge some clothing left behind...sidestep some other garbage, but don't forget to try to look out and appreciate the amazing view from the bridge!  There was a sea of people in front, next to and behind me...as far as the eye could see.  Not to mention the last minute "relievers" who likely didn't get in the porta-potty line early enough and had to veer off  along the course for nature's calling.  Very strange.

So I tried to soak in the experience as much as possible...and thus remember a few parts vividly...around mile 5 when two girls running nearby decided they'd had enough and quit (ugh!), mile 7 where my father in law proudly jumped in and ran a stretch with me, the Queensborough Bridge where it was so depressing breathing in the exhaust fumes and running uphill in the dark I almost quit, but right after emerging into a bar-dense part of town lined with TONS of people cheering and then seeing my sister in law jump the fence to join me...the sun coming out for just a bit after that...after crossing into the Bronx the guy yelling that we were all awesome because we'd just come into Yankee territory, Mike jumping in with Amy to bring me all the way into Central Park (which wound up as the longest distance he'd ever run)...having to stop and stretch around mile 20 because my hamstrings were cramping terribly...not having enough strength to even keep my jaw closed because I was so tired after mile 24...coming into Central Park and hearing people yell "GO KELLY!" because I wore my friend's name on the front of my shirt, then crying not only because they were yelling and cheering for her, but that I was almost there, and I hurt like hell.  The finish line of that race was the most incredible, welcome sight I'd ever seen...and I had done it.  A marathon.  All because of my friend.

I hobbled around for the next few days...high from what I had accomplished...but vowed never to run another again.  In fact, I think it was over a year until I put my sneakers on again to run just a little bit.  I didn't hate it..but didn't love it either...and still felt pretty burned out from the whole experience.  It took a while...8 years, in fact...but eventually signed up for a half marathon in 2008.  Training for and running the Lehigh Valley Half was much different from a whole marathon, and after the race, I was HOOKED.  The commitment wasn't too much, it was a distance that did take training to cover, but didn't steal most of my time, and I really liked the feeling of accomplishment and actually running again. 

Since 2008, I've completed 7 half marathons and this year have mustered up the courage to try another full length marathon.  Training is quite different this go-round, but definitely takes up a lot of time.  I'm actually enjoying my long runs on the weekends and find my thoughts periodically travel back to my friend, sometimes just for a brief moment...but when they do, I always tell her hello and thanks.  I owe her a lot.

Training? We don't need no stinkin' training...

So there's this little thing called a half marathon I'm supposed to run in this weekend...and yet I've only logged 6 miles in the past 2 weeks.  Yeesh.

Call it the curse of the coming winter solstice, but something's got to give if I'm to continue training for a marathon on 10/30.  This summer was great - I could leave work and get a run in before it got too dark out...but now...not only do we have the craziest time of the year going on at Pro-Activity (translation:  Mike is away a good chunk of the time), but we've got not one, but TWO kids playing travel soccer - practices, practices, more practices and games on Saturdays and Sundays.  Not that I'm complaining...not really.  But just thinking back to the "old" days...I could wake up and go for a run before work, or go right after work.  Or around dinner time.  Basically, whenever I wanted.  Ah yes, pre-kids. 

However, I do find that I LOVE watching my girls play soccer.  I love watching them learn.  Make mistakes.  Have fun and feel so good about what they can do.  And the fact that the trainers all have British or some other easy-on-the-ears accents...

Both girls have such different takes on the sport - kid #1 is very analytical, deliberate and takes everything very literally, whereas kid #2...well...Mike likens her to a "bull in a china shop"...she's not intimidated by anything or anyone (where did this kid come from?)...and lets everyone know it.  I think it's every parent's right to see their kid excel in something, anything - just because of how proud of them you get for being proud of themselves.  But I digress...back to the running thing...

I suppose I'm just hoping to log a respectable time in Philly this Sunday...and manage to carve out some daylight time to log some serious mileage over the next month and a half.  If not, I'll need to invest in some serious night-vision gear so I don't break my ankles in the potholes that line the road nearby...although if I did, it might spur the local DOT to do something about those things!  Bah, probably not.

Wish me luck!

A Moment of Thanks

As I finally sat down to write my blog, I was planning to cover how hectic my life has been, particularly as of late.  I'm amazed that my kids haven't turned into 3-horned crazy loonies with all the changes and upheavals we've gone through over the past 3 months. 

But then, as I thought more about it...the 10th anniversary of 9/11 is almost here, and I feel like if a little turmoil (all for the good, by the way) is dragging me along a bit, I still have a whole heckofalot to be thankful for. 

We are priveledged to live in such a place where normally, our biggest concerns can be remembering to lock the car and the house up at night. Or making sure we know our children's friends parents before they have a "playdate". On the grand scheme...we are incredibly blessed. Of course, there are exceptions and I'm not trying to make light of true tragedy that some of us or our friends may experience. However, 9/11 was on a scale that none of us have ever experienced before, and hopefully never will again.

When the first plane hit the North Tower of the World Trade Center, everyone was confused.  Was it a plane?  An explosion?  I distinctly recall watching the news and first hand witnesses describing things like a small engine plane, probably a pilot who made a terrible error...then when live footage showed the second jet liner collide with the South Tower...it was unmistakable that this was no error.  In fact, I clearly recall someone on the news saying "we are under attack". 

As I sat, glued to the TV that day, holding my first newborn baby, it was hard to digest that this had really happened.  All the lives lost.  What they all experienced.  Hours upon hours of news coverage on every station...rumors of survivors, tales of the heroic dead...all the result of a terrorist attack.  On USA soil!  How was this even possible?

In the days that followed, I chose to try and focus mostly on the stories of our heros.  Home-grown, bonafide super heros who risked and even lost their lives that day.  What made some step up, take charge and do the incredibly risky things they did?  Or how about all the incredible men and women who did anything and everything they could to help at Ground Zero?  It was hard not to cry a bit - to mourn, but also in pride and awe of the people I share my country with. 

So, rather than bemoan a few nights of minimal sleep, long working hours, and being in the midst of moving...I'd rather say thank you to all our first responders and all the men and women who stepped forward to help that day.  Thank you to our servicemen and women who fight for us every day.  Thank you to all our home-grown heroes - for stepping up when no one else will and being leaders just when we need one. 

This Sunday we'll all say a special prayer of thanks to those who gave their lives on 9/11, and those who continue to risk their lives for us every day.  I will always be in your debt.

This video is about a 9/11 hero named Welles Crowther.  Incredible story, amazing hero. 

Who's raising who, anyway?

Labor Day is one of my favorite holidays.  The stifling hot summer heat is coming to an end...usually by now the nights are very cool and crisp but we still have plenty of sunshine and crystal blue skies during the day.  Kids are going back to school...the normal routine of the year is starting...

And 10 years ago, on the day after labor day, I went into labor with kid #1.  Haha.

TEN years.  My oldest kid is, in her words, almost a decade old.  Gee thanks, kid...way to make your mom feel O-L-D!  Although, I really don't mind because those 10 years have been an incredible blessing to our entire family.  They always say the first kid raises the parents, not the other way around, and I can, with absoute certainty, wholeheartedly agree.

Kid #1 made her debut after 12 hours of labor, one full week before the events of September 11th.  It was quite an experience...she was so little!  Little fingers & toes...little skinny legs (which she still has), but what a big mouth!  She wasn't too noisy at first - all she did was eat, sleep, and...well, you know how it goes.  Soon though, things started changing...I really don't think I managed to log more than 2-3 consecutive hours of sleep at a time and she rarely napped for any length of time either.  I just figured that I was "blessed" with a fussy baby, but boy was it a toll on my psyche. 

At about 2-3 months of life, she started getting more and more irritable, and I specifically remember very late (or very early, depending on the perspective) one night holding her tight, pacing the floor...back and forth...praying this kid would just close her eyes and relax...and GO TO SLEEP!!  After what seemed like countless hours, she finally fluttered her eyes closed....I waited for what I was SURE was an eternity and very slooooowly eased myself into a chair, thighs on fire because I was lowering myself so slowly so I wouldn't wake her...managed to sit and sloooowly ease back into the chair.....and BOOM!  Eyes open, kid wailing...mom about ready to throw in the towel to this whole mother-hood thing. 

I started to notice that she would have bouts of inconsolable crying - screaming, if you will - where NOTHING I did would calm her down.  The contents of her diapers changed, too (forgive me, I won't go into details) and despite talking to her doctors during her well checks, raised no alarm whatsoever.  She's just a fussy kid.  Happens all the time.  She'll grow out of it.  Real comforting to a brand new mom.

Finally, at one of her well checks, as I'm reiterating everything all over again to another doctor in the practice, my little one decides to fill her diaper, to which the Dr. takes one look and orders a fecal-occult test to check for blood.  I saw her face become alarmed as the test came back positive...my face must've turned completely white as I sat down quickly to somewhat digest the news that there was something wrong with my baby.  Our doctor quickly reassured me that it was all going to be ok, we'd find out what was going on, and that I was a good mom for continuing to bring up kid #1's issues that everyone else was blowing off.  I felt reassured and was so thankful for that.

With a referral to the pediatric GI (gastro-intestinal) specialist in hand, I quickly made an appointment to get things checked out.  What was interesting to me, upon arrival I filled out an information packet based almost exclusively on family history - all based on issues with food.    Mike's mom swears he had issue with dairy, along with other family members, so essentially once they read my responses on the questionnaire, they immediately diagnosed kid #1 with a dairy and possibly soy allergy.  Her intestines were so irritated from the dairy I ate, that they became ulcerous...hence the icky diapers. 

I decided to continue to breastfeed, which meant that starting immediately, NO dairy and NO soy (we later figured out it was just dairy, not soy that was the problem).  By the time I got home, I was ravenous and the only thing I could find in the house that was ok for me to eat was...nothing.  Not one snack-type item, save fruit and veggies, was without dairy and/or soy.  This was the beginning of a huge wake-up call.  I'm pretty sure the first time I went grocery shopping it took about 2 hours because of all the labels I had to read.  I did get good advice though, which I highly recommend to anyone looking to improve their diet:  shop the perimeter of the store and skip the aisles. All the fresh stuff is located all around the edges of the store - all the pre-packaged, highly processed stuff lives in the aisles. 

After about a month, I finally got the diet part under control, and kid #1 started healing...less screaming fits, sleeping better, generally happier.  Whew.  So by 6 months of age, my baby girl was what was supposed to be her normal self.  And, I noticed that I felt different, too.  Of course better sleep will do that, but I also felt more alert, like I wasn't in a fog all the time, my frequent stomach aches were gone, and for lack of a better description, I just felt more lively.  Hard to explain, but there was a definite difference.  I didn't put 2 and 2 together until much later - after a junk food binge (had to wait until the kid stopped nursing and I could eat whatever I wanted again) left me feeling terrible.  Quite a revelation...eat crap, feel like crap. 

Needless to say, I'm not sorry my firstborn has a dairy allergy.  She's willing to try all kinds of foods and eats a generally healthier than the norm diet - and none for the worse.  She may complain a bit here and there and finds it thrilling when she meets another dairy-allergic kid (so she can finally commiserate with someone else), but is a very happy, healthy kid whose mom has figured out ways to make even a non dairy cheesecake that tastes pretty darn good.  I wouldn't trade those sleepless nights for anything.

Camp: Rite of Passage, Torture, or Both?

This week marks the first time my kids have ever truly experienced "summer camp".  I've always been home in the summer, so there really was no need to send them off for the day - that's what Summer Rec (3 hours in the am) was for!

On Friday, kid #3 learned that he too, was going to camp...finally!  His chance to be just like one of the big kids!  He wouldn't believe anyone at first - he's never been able to do the things his sisters do...but when we finally convinced him he was signed up, you could just see he was ready to jump out of his skin with excitement.  Needless to say, I was relieved...and happy I wouldn't have to drag him there kicking and screaming (yep, this is a bit of "foreshadowing").

So on Monday, as I drove through camp to drop my 3 campers off, (girls = grumbling, boy = grinning from ear to ear) I kept my fingers crossed we'd have no "mishaps" as they departed the car.  Kids 1, 2 & 3 hopped out of the car like they were old pro's, and I drove away in a great mood.

Fast forward to Monday night...kid #3 starts asking if he has to go back and repeating that he misses me a lot during the day.  Ok, I can deal with this...I tell him it's ok to miss me because I miss him, too - but he's having a lot of fun and it won't be long before I go to pick him up.  He seems a little comforted by this.

Tuesday am drop off again...they all pile right out of the car again...whew.  Off to work I go.

Tuesday eve - I'm working late, but get a cryptic message from Mike that he's having to work kid #3 hard to get his mind back into going to camp.  Uh oh.  Hope he can work some magic...

Wednesday morning.  "Mom, do I have to go?  I really miss you."  "Mom, I don't want to go.  Don't make me go."  "Mom - don't make me go to camp!"   Repeat.  A lot.  Crap.  As I drive through camp, the pleas are becoming more and more pathetic and the pitch is getting more and more feverish...there are a few tears by now...and as I get to the drop off zone, the girls pile out, but there's no moving kid #3.  He's still buckled in.  As I reach to release the buckle, the pleading turns to panic and he grabs on to the door handle...this kid isn't budging.  The poor counselor doesn't know what to do...I wind up getting out of the car and removing him myself...he's clutching to me like it's life or death...I feel myself getting really worked up - Do I bring him back with me?  Do I walk him over myself?  Agh!

Finally I decide that I've just got to leave him - If I relent and let him come with me, the repercussions could be worse than anything else.  So I pry him off of me, hand him over to the counselor, turn and practically run to the car and take off...hearing his cries of "MOM!"  "NO!" in my head and I feel like the WORST.  MOM. EVER.  I've just abandoned my kid.  He'll be scarred forever. "Mommy Dearest" has nothing on me.

My guilt lasted for about an hour and a half...until Mike responded to the email I sent to him, pleading for him to tell me NOT to go back and pick him up.  Mike's always the rock...and after he reinforced what I was thinking, I felt better.  Still guilty, but much better.  We thought it'd be good to reward kid #3's "bravery" by picking him up a bit earlier and treating him to a "Daddy/Bubby Lunch"...which seemed to work wonders.  I told Mike to call me when he picked him up to let me know how he was....I just wanted to make sure I hadn't totally destroyed the kid and that he was ok.  I was informed that he was just fine...with camouflage-painted cheeks, and the only mom-guilt part of the day is that he didn't go in the pool because he was "too sad to swim".  Alright.  I can deal with that.

Last night I had a long talk with the Bub as he was snuggled up in his bed.  We talked about camp, why he had a hard time going, again - that it was ok to miss me, and I told him I was very proud of him for being a brave big boy and going to camp when he didn't want to.  He still wasn't keen on going again...so I told him there were only 2 more days before it was finished - and it was as if I had said the magic words...ONLY TWO MORE DAYS!  He must have asked/confirmed with me 3-4 more times that it was only 2 days...

This morning was much better than yesterday - he only asked if he could stay with me once or twice.  I had a nice little talk with kid #1, and how she needed to step up and help her brother if he has another meltdown...all went swimmingly well until we got to the camp entrance...then he started in with the "I don't want to go" pleas...NUTS!  I didn't hesitate at all this time, though, and got him right out of the car myself.  Kid #1 stuck to him like glue which helped...and I only heard him call out my name once.  Still not easy to drive away, but better than yesterday.  One can only hope it gets easier each time...we'll see what tomorrow brings.  Or what happens when *gulp* Pre-K starts...

Heavy rain, painful toes & bears...oh my!

After the events of this past weekend and the torrential, unrelenting rain, my planned long run was put on the back burner.  I did manage to get over to the NH track to get a quick 3 miler in with all 3 kids in tow - figuring that it's fenced in, where could they go?  Glad I didn't encounter the black bear that everyone else saw that morning on the property...

I would have liked to get my 16 miles in Sunday afternoon/evening, but it was just too nice for Mike to be back home and not be there, too.  I figured I'd have to log something of a longer nature in the beginning of this week, so I'd try to head out a bit early Monday evening and then try to time it so I'd run (no pun intended) back to Base Camp with the "Fun Runners" that meet and run together every Monday.  Unfortunately I was about 1/2 mile off my calculations (wanted to get in 10, got up to 9.5) and was about 40 seconds per mile faster than I predicted (WOOHOO!!!) so I got back ahead of everyone else.  It's very strange - as I was on my run, I felt like I just couldn't get into a good rhythm...like I was a bit awkward...but I think it's because I was running faster (considerably, to me) than usual, but my heart rate was staying low...definitely a step in the right direction!

 

BUT....of course since I was feeling so great...the achilles heel of my running life has flared up again...only this time it's on the other foot.  Grrrr.  I let myself think for only a second during that run how great it was that my right foot was holding up well and I hadn't had any issues other than the shin pain a few weeks back.  D'oh!  Kiss of death!  Now my left foot is painful in the same area as where my right foot had issues (stupid longer middle toe!), but this time it's more acute, rather than a diffuse discomfort.  So, I'm enlisting the services of Advil and ice on a regular basis to see if I can get rid of this nonsense.  Hopefully this will resolve in the next few days and I won't miss much of my training.  FINGERS CROSSED!

On another note, returning to Base Camp and meeting up with the fun runners for a few recovery beers and some socialization made it a really great night.  Thanks to Julie for organizing - great idea, great people, great company...can't go wrong!