Breathe: Tales from a Big Girl

  Big is one of those adjectives I try to avoid if at all possible. What does it mean really? A big serving of ice cream....a big house...a big idea...it could mean anything, everything, and nothing at all...and it means so many different things to so many different people. Everyone has their own perspective...And if you are a girl that is 5'10 and not Giselle-weight worthy or build, well...big, feels...well, big...& shitty...big girl, big bones, big in stature, big muscles...and for some reason, that doesn't translate to being pretty in a big girl's head.

  When I was growing up & going through the painful awkwardness of puberty, I"m pretty sure none of my friends and I dreamed of being "big"...big boobs maybe, still waiting on that one...but that just wasn't something we aspired to be. I know I thought I would be happier if I just blended in...maybe not so tall,  not so skinny (at the time), & definitely not so flat-chested....I didn't dream of broad shoulders and strong quads...

  So why didn't I dream of big thighs that could carry me 26.2 miles in a race? Or a core that could challenge at least a few guys in a kettlebell workout? What distorted my view of myself so much back then, and how do I avoid it with my own girls?

 We have slowly made improvements at celebrating bodies of all shapes..a step up from the 80s and 90s...partially thanks to the American fascination with professional athletes. We've made some progress with some of the pictures of health on magazine covers...in college, for me, it was Gabrielle Reece (standing in at 6'2-6'3 with strong beach volleyball thighs & broad "big" girl shoulders)...though I still ended up a little scarred & had my own issues at one point (but that's for another blog entry)...she was also a model...and probably the first of her kind with an athletic build after a post-Kate Moss hangover. And, let's not forget the fascination with Jennifer Lopez' ass...girls with big asses and strong athletic asses are still thanking her for paving that path.

  My own girls today have an amazing variety of "women" other than their mom that they can look to for what healthy looks like...some of them even are friends of mine who do come in all kinds of healthy shapes and sizes, and some are of professional sport stature...Julia Mancuso, Mikaela Schriffin, Lindsay Vonn (yes, all skiers)...but in my family it works. There's also a good chance, they will have to embrace their strong thighs and broad shoulders based on their gentics and their intense love for sport.

  Maybe the whole problem with the word big is not the word itself but our warped view on it?

Sometimes it can mean a good thing, and sometimes it's heartbreaking. Certainly, we as a whole could probably be more articulate when we choose our adjectives to describe someone's living space, an overly generous portion of dessert or someone's strong and fit physique...or maybe we should get over it and stop being so sensitive about a silly little word. Either way, I know in my household, I choose to speak more descriptive and specific with my children in regards to portions and proportions because I would hate to have them label themselves or someone else and thus, pass on the trait of spending an adulthood battling a three letter word....

The "B Team"

I am officially designated to the "B team"...the nail that sealed it was tonight dropping off my child to the all school 4th & 5th grade chorus concert...in my workout clothes, disheveled, & not wearing the same painted, cheery, this is so great smile on my face. This pretty much sums up how I've been feeling with my running and my duties as a mother lately...demoted...kicked off the A team.

Right now, running wise...I'm nowhere near where I have been before. Rewind to a fall marathon that I  nailed including a BQ...my running life has gone down hill from there. Between a nagging injury that is holding me back and perhaps my sinking confidence, I've kicked myself off the "A team." I am no longer running with the group of ladies I have been the past 3 years...make no mistake, not because they wouldn't embrace the slower, hurting me...but because I'm just not ready for that pace of running...physically and mentally.

It has been a humbling experience for me...running alone, at a much slower pace, and nowhere near the weekly mileage I was putting in before. But I am doing the best I can & am slowly building up my strength. I have to remind myself that no one really cares about the pace I'm doing out there, it doesn't matter...the point is, I am out there...doing the best I can with what I have got right now. I'm still participating...

Then, take the sport of being a mother...shipping kids back & forth all day after school & after a 6-7 hour workday...and  trying to take care of myself also...I've about thrown the towel in. Teacher appreciation day? Sorry, no baked goods from me...bake sale for Girl Scouts...no can do. And tonight, the ultimate...I opted out of that concert...kissed my daughter, dropped her off & then, came home to pass the keys to my husband & tell him he would be the starter tonight...B team bring it on...

But maybe there isn't anything wrong with being on the B team if  you are doing the best you can with what you have got at that moment...some days that "all" may land you a starting position on the A team...getting all the housework done, cooking a brilliantly healthy meal while sending in a fabulous treat for the class, all after running a PR in a race....and other days, shuffling your feet around trying to get back home and then, serving up another "breakfast for dinner"....

Maybe for now, the B team is where I belong, it sure beats being completely benched...after all, I am still participating, doing all the things I love to do...out on the road and at home with my family...even if it means the occasional PB&J post slow girl shuffle....

Walking the Line

In life and sport, there are those that stay within the perimeters of what is set, what is comfortable, and what is safe. In road races, these are the people that will start the race nice and easy to warm-up...they will probably gradually build to a steady pace that they will be able to finish in. They will probably never throw up after a race or pee themselves. They also will probably nevcr make a silly race mistake by testing the limits...meaning they won't ever fail, they won't hit the wall, and it also means, they probably won't have that one moment when they do something unbelievable-beyond what they really should be capable of..defying the odds of their ability.

I walk the line..sometimes coming too close & sometimes too aggressively. With running, I have made the mistake of bursting out at the start and failing miserably in the race later when I bonked. I've thrown up after, and most definitely peed as I sprinted across finish lines. I've also burst out & actually come out a winner, prize and all. And many times, I've ended up not happy with my time, knowing I might have had a little more in me. That is what can be difficult to  determine...where is that line? At what point is it too much, too reckless, too aggressive....

In my past self as a coach & as a player...I'v been carded, fouled out...spoken to by the powers that be...and also, complimented and praised for my intensity and drive by the very same people. I always have good intentions; Bobby Knight I am not...but yes, I've pushed my players and the players around me to be the best they could be...no different than the way I push myself.

I do struggle sometimes with knowing my boundary...how hard & how close can I get to the line to pull off the win, to be the best that I can be so that if I lose, I went down with a fight & if I win, I won and I am spent...

Sometimes, being this aggressive, is too close...red cards are handed out, people foul out, people get written up, pulled in for a talking to...you name it...and other times, it sets the tone for a W.

Last night, at my daughters' basketball game...it all started to make sense, in life and sport. One of my girls is just like me...a fierce competitor to the end.  She did walk the line last night...getting extremely physical, racked up a bunch of fouls...but no one scored on her...not on her watch. And at one point, she even took it too far & may have pushed someone incidently/accidently after being knocked down. I pulled her aside on the bench & encouraged her to keep up the intensity but I also gently reminded her of the rules...the perimeter...the line that she cannot cross...hoping this would not discourage her intensity & focus to pull off the win.

That's when it hit me...in life and in sport, I will always be the person that comes close to the line...I'm a competitor...I don't know how to soften up and just let things take their course naturally. I try to make things happen. I might occasionally need the slap on the wrist, the mid-race barf or the yellow card to remind me of that line... I will apologize if I cross the line and take it too far, but I won't apologize for being me...a competitor to the end.

Gym Mom

In a nutshell, my Wednesday looked like this: alarm goes off at 5:15am so that I can get to the gym and get a workout in (contrary to the belief, that those of us who work in the fitness industry, no we do NOT get to workout all day at work), then, come home shower and get ready for work.

By 7:30am, after I’ve dragged the trash and recycling out, made lunches all while shoving a veggie omelet in my mouth, I’m hollering up the stairs to my three girls because they are still not out of bed, dressed, and ready for school.

At 8:20am, I am dropping  them off to school and heading back to the gym to start my work day. Mid-morning, I get the call from the school nurse to come pick up my youngest who has a 102 fever and was she feeling okay this morning (I think so, she didn’t say she felt sick, wait, was that an accusation) ? And then, comes the friendly reminder that she would not be expected at school tomorrow because of the 24 hour fever policy (s**t! working mom and working out mom’s nightmare).

I get sick child settled on the couch, I wrestle down my husband (who happens to be home at the moment) to stay put.  I go pick up child number 2 from school at 3:15 and drop her off at the house. I, then,  zip over to the Pic-n-Pay for the Motrin, crackers, Gatorade and apple juice….and fly back home.

Now, it’s time to get child number 2 ready for indoor soccer and get sick child to take her medicine.

I’m out the door to bring #2 to soccer for 4:00pm so that I can go back to the school and pick up child number 3 from girl scouts at 4:30pm. Thank god, I arranged for a ride home from soccer for child #2, otherwise I’d be back on the other side of town for 5:15 soccer pickup…with child 3, and sick child.

Crap…what’s for dinner?

Sounds ridiculous right? This is just an ordinary day in the life of a working mother with multiple busy children. I’m not looking for a medal or sympathy, and I’m definitely not tooting my own horn.  There are mothers everywhere doing exactly the same thing also. This was a choice I made: to have three children and then, to go back to work so that I could provide more to the family including the soccer, lacrosse, basketball, ski racing, girl scouts…what have you, to give them experiences.

What I am asking for is a little less judgment.  You will come into my house at any given moment where the laundry is not complete, dishes may be in the sink…(insert gasp) the cleaner hasn’t shown up (note: I am the house cleaner).  I actually had someone recently suggest to me that, well, I could always do my housework in the early morning instead of running and working out.  That comment still stings, and I still resent it.

I choose an ungodly hour to have one hour to myself and I have to feel guilty over that too because I could be mopping, cleaning the toilet, or catching up on laundry/ dishes or planning the meals for the week???

I don’t need a girls vacation, a weekend at the spa, or a nanny.  I do it all and some days I do it just fine, but I do need something for myself. For me, that something is always going to be physical and it's going to be in gym or out on the road. I need this for my sanity. It is a part of my personality, and it’s what makes me a better mother, wife, friend.

So the next time I don’t get to every single email about the field trip, I’m late to rsvp, or my latest, completely forgetting about a  playdate & a birthday party, spare me and my fellow sisters the judgment. We are doing the best that we can. And if you think this is frazzled, imagine what we’re like without our workout…

R.I.P.P.

I am mourning my speed and my mileage. When I was marathon training, I could head out for miles on end, and what I found discouraging was that it took me forever to warm up, and my 5k-10k speed was long gone. I could no longer run a sub-7 5k, yet running a 10 miler felt awful. Where's the happy medium?

 I had heard this from my Ultra-friends before....I chalked it up to one too many ultras...they're just so use to running 5-6 hours on a mountainside trail that they probably just have no desire to go short & fast...it just doesn't give them that runner's high. I was wrong.

Fast forward to 5 weeks post marathon, I am still struggling to find my speed, but now I am not out running 20 milers either. And my casual runs are pathetic. My warm up mile is practically a crawl...my peak mile is slower than what my marathon race pace was...and when, I think I am picking it up, I'm not...just trotting along at a pace I would have warmed up at prior.

In desperation the other day, I hit the treadmill because I couldn't get out before my family's alarm clocks went off...so I decided to play...an old workout I use to do on a whim when I could run the a 6:30 pace 5k...some intervals mixed in with some kettlebell burpees, swings, & box jumps. It felt good to get my heart rate up...but this time, I could only hold a 6:50 pace for 3 minutes without feeling like I might fly off it.

So for now, I am kind of lost...I'm not running the mileage I was while marathon training, and I'm clearly not ready to run a 5k at a pace I'd like to. It's a double funeral for my mileage & my speed...and it's back to the drawing board for me. I'm not sure what I'm up for next...my Achilles injury has me somewhat limited and perhaps heading to PT.

For now, I will work on my strength, my flexibility, and hopefully, I will be back more resilient than ever. ...and the sun will shine once again...whether it's a 3 mile post-injury build up or a 30 miler ultra challenge...I will be back.

The Marathon Taper

The taper is something that should be looked at as a time of rest and relief. For marathons, it's the two-three weeks before race day where the mileage & work load does just that...tapers down so that by race week you are doing just enough to stay loose & not get antsy legs. This allows your body to recover and ready itself for the actual race day. Sounds great...

I despise the taper. For me, while I understand it's purpose, and I do follow it diligently in any of my races, it's my least favorite part of running training. It's like an ego blow for me mentally and physically.

Physically, with all the rest and recovery, I actually start to feel worse. Everything is even tighter than when I was at my peak mileage. I am so exhausted. I actually crawled into bed one night at 8:30...it was Saturday! I slept 10 hours and woke up feeling no different.

Mentally, every doubt in my head races around. Three weeks ago just before the taper during my last 20 miler, I'm high as a kite...I want to run the race tomorrow. I am so ready & just want it done.

Then, during the taper, all the insecurities surface...did I do enough? Did I challenge myself enough? Maybe I worked too hard. I should have been keeping up with my weight training. Why didn't I take up yoga on my rest days? I should have bought the other model of shoes. And why does it feel like running 3 miles is impossible, when running 20 had me floating on air?

But it never fails...I follow the taper, I toe up at the line race day, and it all pays off. I'm always ready.  For me, it's the thing I like least about training, but I want to know I did everything possible to set myself up for success...and that includes the taper...

Boston

In the running world, we all know what BQ means, boston qualifying time...what makes Boston so special & elite technically, is that you have to have a qualifying time to be able to apply to try to get in (unless you get a charity number, which means you raise x amount of $ for a particular charity). It still is not a guarantee based on how many people in your age group applied & what their qualifying times were. It is in a league of it's own.

I am not going to lie...I knew exactly what my "qualifying time" needed to be. I also knew that depending on how I was feeling, and how the race played out...I could easily end up happy just with a finish. Even when everything goes right in your training, race day could just not be your day, & you could end up having to adjust your goals.

When I crossed the finish, I looked at the Finish Clock Time (running clock time) and thought, "oh well, I just missed it...well, I gave it a good fight, & I have nothing to be ashamed of. Still a great race, great time, great finish"....When I literally stopped my Garmen and then, stopped running...everything hurt...my hip flexors felt like they were on fire, and my calves began to cramp up...honest to God, I could barely walk.

I found my husband, and I told him I just needed to get out of there...all I wanted to do was go home & plunge into boiling water to work out all the tightness & cramping I was immediately feeling. I remember, thinking that I was so happy I finished because then, I would never have to do THAT again. Clearly, half marathons and below were more my thing...I could do well & not take up too much time of my life training, I could definitely walk better after the finish...yes, the big joke at this race, how do you tell the halfers versus the fulls? The Halfs were all drinking beer and enjoying the live rock bands...the Marathoners were looking for bananas, more water, & the quickest exit out of there.

We made the big trek home (all of 20 minutes) with me cramping up with every move I made...(I so should have stayed and taken advantage of that massage tent)...I made it up the stairs, & literally, plunged into a bath as hot as I could stand. Shortly, after, I got dressed to head over to the two soccer games for my girls when I got the message...

A dear friend of mine who is practically the major of running if running were a town...she knew my exact time...& indeed those two sweet letters beside them...BQ. And just like that, I was feeling like a million bucks again. Gone were the cramps, the dehydration...all I had was hope.

That's why we all refer to it as Boston...everyone knows what you mean when you say "I'm doing Boston", "I'm trying to qualify" (for Boston), "I BQ'd"....it symbolizes something so sacred and special...it's hope wrapped up in two letters...

I will throw my hat into Boston 2015, and if luck goes my way, I will get a hard-earned number...and I will run with hope, joy, pride....and love...because there is nothing like a BQ, nothing that compares to Boston.