the Mother Runner

We were in Boston waiting for the train that would take us to church on Sunday. There was a guy standing there, in a collared shirt and tie, eyeing us. I tried not to look like I was eyeing him, but I had my suspicions that he was going to church, too. Probably ours.

Well, we got off at the wrong stop by mistake and ended up being really late for the meeting, but when we finally got there, sure enough, Mr. Train Station was there, too. He said he knew we were probably going to the same place when he saw us at the station. He asked if we were running the race, and we asked him right back. We were but he wasn’t. He was there to sell his shoes at the expo. We asked him for his spiel, and he obliged: his shoes had no drop from the heel – the heel is the same height as the toes – and they have a wide toe box so your toes can splay with ease as you run. They sounded, oddly enough, right up our alley.

After church, and after visiting with friends, we stopped by the Altra ZeroDrop booth at the expo. We tried the shoes. We liked them. But it was really when Golden, the shoe man, told me that I would run faster on race day if I had at least a little padding in my shoe, that I was sold. We vowed to buy some on another (not Sabbath) day. And we did – several weeks later.

There were, unfortunately, some sizing problems and some color mix-ups, so I didn’t get mine until last Thursday. On Friday morning I laced them up for the first time and took them out for a none-too-easy 6-miler in which I seemed attracted to every big hill in Bountiful. It was seriously the slowest, longest, hottest (until today!) run I have been on in ages.

But my shoes did great. I didn’t think much about them, which, I believe, is the sign of a good shoe. Every once in a while, I thought that maybe I should pay more attention to how my feet were feeling, but then I realized that if I had to tell myself to do that, they were doing the job. Honestly, I hardly noticed them. They are very similar to my beloved FiveFingers in that they are superlight, very flexible, and they (mostly) don’t prevent my feet from doing what they want to do (like spread my toes).

However, they were not perfect. Near the end of the run I started feeling some tightness around the ankle. I attribute that to laces, which I am not used having on my running shoes. Maybe I tied them too tight? Also, I wore socks, which I am also unaccustomed to, and my feet got warmer than they do in my FiveFingers.

I went out again today for a flat-ish 5-miler (as flat as you can get in Bountiful) without socks, and while my feet were cooler, the shoes rubbed around my ankle and I now have a raw spot on either foot. Oops. Rookie mistake.

All in all, I like them. I think Altra has the right idea. I like the no heel-drop. I like the wide toe box. I like the lightness and the breathability. I like the idea of being able to run without an insert for extra padding during training and then to add one in for racing which, Golden says, will make me faster on race day – though I have yet to test his claim. (And which is also something that FiveFingers don’t give me the option of doing.)

I think they will be great to rotate with my FiveFingers. The FiveFingers are still, after two runs, my solid favorite. But these are a solid alternative.

Check them out here. They have trail running shoes, triathlon shoes, minimalist shoes, and performance trainers. Something for everyone.

One of the big events of our trip to Utah happened this week: my youngest brother left on his mission to the Belgium Netherlands mission. He’ll spend several weeks in Provo learning Dutch and how to teach people about our church, and then he’ll get on a plane and fly across the world and he won’t come home until 2015. Little Miss will be a chatty almost-3-year-old by then. Squish will be finishing kindergarten. And Manchild will probably be taller than me.

It’s a long time, but I know that it will also be so fast. We’ll write letters and send caramel butter bars for his birthday. We’ll draw pictures and send photos. We’ll keep him updated on loose teeth, first days-of-school, new friends and new skills.

So much will happen, but in the end it will be just a small time apart.

I need to remember that more: it’s really just a small time. Take advantage, live it up, smile knowing that, for better or worse, it’s not going to last forever.

This week on Babble:

Got something for Dad? Here are some last-minute ideas.

Here are some tips to making your first race smooth and worry-free.

Family vacation: it may be all fun and games, but it’s the healthiest kind.

Pools can be scary places – keep your kids safe!

And the signs and cures for the dreaded Mom Brain(which I originally posted here).

For weeks Manchild has been excited about a particular promise we made to him about something we would do when we were in Utah: watch Star Wars for the first time.

He got a Star Wars origami book for his birthday and has been learning bits and pieces about it over the past couple of months. Like about how “lightsaber” is pronounced and how to fold one from a piece of paper.

Last night was the big night. After some deliberation it was decided that Squish could join us, but only because he would probably fall asleep after a few minutes (he didn’t). There were lots of questions coming from Manchild’s side of the couch, but after a while he settled down and just watched.

It was funny because just last week there was a post on the Motherlode on this particular topic. When to introduce your kids to the things you grew up with. I don’t know if this was the exact right moment, but it was a good one. Both boys enjoyed it. When it ended and we asked them what they thought, Squish said, “It was all about space!” Like it was the best thing ever.

And Manchild talked about how there were “learning parts” – like the part where he learned that the blade of a lightsaber is made entirely of light. Important learning like that.

Logistics. It’s tricky, tricky business when both you and your spouse are running a race and you are away from home and you have to be to the buses that take you to the start line at 4:00am. And you have three children, including one that tends to cry when her mom leaves.

So, first, props to my sister and her husband who not only let us take over their living room for a night, but also got up at 3:45 to take my crying baby off my hands so Micah and I could get to the start line. (Last year my brother’s secret fiancee allowed us to pick her up at 6:30 in the morning so she could watch our kids during the race. It wasn’t until after the race that my brother officially announced their engagement.)

But after we managed to sneak out the door, leaving Little Miss in the capable and patient hands of my sister and brother-in-law, all went well. Micah, another sister, and two of my brothers drove to the bus pick-up and boarded buses that took us up the canyon to the start. Once we got there we warmed ourselves by the fire pits because, as you might imagine, the mountains of Utah are not a warm place to be at 5:00 in the morning, no matter what time of year.

It was on our way up to the start line and as we stood around the fire that we really talked about our race goals. This was maybe not the best move, but it seems to be the way I roll these days. Up until then my goal had been to get to the start line pain-free. And with my IT band feeling better, it was time to think about the finish line. Having hardly run in the past couple of weeks, and having just come off an injury, I was hesitant to think that I could even get close to a PR – which was 1:36:05. It wasn’t on my radar at all. But 1:40 seemed like a reasonable time to try to beat – for both me and Micah, who is less injured than before but not entirely healed – so in the minutes leading up to the start time, we found the 1:40 pacer and kept close to him. My brother – who was running his first half – also didn’t really have any idea what he was capable of, but thought 2 hours was a good goal. He didn’t want to get beat by any speedy marathoners.

At promptly 6:00am – if there’s one thing this race does really well, it’s start on time – the air horn blew and we were off. The pacer went out really fast, but Micah and I decided to give our bodies time to warm up, which was a good idea because we were both really cold. And for the first few miles I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to push myself at all. The bottoms of my feet were a little numb and I had a bit of a side stitch. But by mile 5 we were warm and feeling good, and at about the half-way point we pushed past the pacer and never looked back.

It wasn’t until around mile 9 that we finally felt the sun, and at that point I was no longer worried about my knee but I was a little worried about poor fueling, so I took some Powerade gel (I think it was Powerade . . .) and continued to take a little bit at a time for the last few miles. It seemed to keep me from getting too fatigued.

Now, if there’s another thing this race does really well, it’s taunt you with the finish line. You can see it from more than a mile away. And once we hit the 12 mile mark, Micah turned to me and said, “We’re in 5K mode now. It’s not supposed to feel good.” We tried to crank it up a notch. This was much harder for me than for him. I was already pushing myself pretty hard, and while I could see the finish line, I knew it still wasn’t all that close. I tried to keep up with Micah for that last mile, but at one point I did actually stop and shake out because I needed to loosen up. It was just for a second, and it really helped.

Near mile 13 was when I first realized how close we were to our PR. I couldn’t remember exactly what our PR was, just that it was 1:36ish. The clock read 1:37:15 (ish) when we crossed the line, but I knew that depending on how long it took us to cross the start line, it could have been a PR. This was, of course, way better than I expected and I was totally thrilled about it – we both were. And then, as we were getting pictures taken in the finish line area we heard my brother’s name announced as he was coming across the line. We’d only been there a few minutes and hadn’t expected him for 20 more. But there he was! Finished at 1:41! Even more thrilling than getting so close to a PR!

We met up with my family and started the long wait for my brother and sister who were running the marathon. Just before the finish clock read 4:18, my brother came running down the chute. Official time: 4:14. And from then until my sister came in we stood and cheered the runners as they came in. The clock said 5:02 when Abby crossed the line, but her official time was 4:59:56. She crossed just ahead of the 5:00 pacer for a PR.

And then it was time to go to the Kids 1K, which both Manchild and Squish were super excited to run. I ran with Manchild, keeping up with him as he weaved his way through so many strollers and holding his hand to help him keep going when he got tired. Micah ran with Squish, who was similarly determined to run the whole thing. They both finished the race red-faced and sweaty and so happy to have done it.

Actually, I think we were all happy to have done it. It was a great race for all of us. Well, except for maybe Little Miss . . . but that’s what she gets for waking up at 1:00 in the morning.

Great race today. It went way better than I expected. Micah and I ran together and he pushed me through the last couple of miles to cross the line in 1:36:46, just 40 seconds off our PR.

More details on Tuesday. Hope you have a great weekend!

You know, just because we’re having a great time, soaking up the sun and the space here in Utah does not mean that there have not been “moments.”

Like that one where Manchild lost his breakfast in the aisle at church just before the services – in which my sister’s baby was being blessed – began.

Yeah, that was a good one.

And I can’t pretend it’s been a picnic to have been the only person whose face didn’t sent Little Miss into hysterics for the first couple of days.

Or that it’s been easy to juggle bedtime duties for two hyped up boys and a super-tired baby girl.

But on the other hand, I can never get enough sister time. It has been great to sit around in the kitchen chatting with my sisters, like the good old days – even if these days we share the kitchen with five little people who run and scream – and have us running and screaming when we discover that Little Miss has somehow climbed almost to the top of the spiral staircase unnoticed.

Trampoline time is also another thing we can never get enough of. And grass. And water.

And yesterday my parents took us out to Bountiful Pond, a place I didn’t know existed, and we waded and fed the ducks and both boys ended up falling in and getting soaked.

I think that sums up our week pretty well: even the missteps, no matter how unfortunate and messy, make a good story.

I’ll check in after the race tomorrow to let you know how it went, but until then, here’s what I’m up to on Babble.

How big was your last meal? What you remember could influence how much you eat.

Ever heard of urban cross-country? Give it a go if you need an easy way to add some variety to your normal run.

Make sure you carb-load right before your next big race.

Fight obesity on the homefront by using your kitchen.

You want to know who pays attention to the calorie counts on fast food menus? The answer may surprise you.

Chilling here in Utah. Soaking up the sun. Splashing in the water.Cruising down the highway.Looks like we’re doing summer right. Hope you are, too.

Never have the hills that define my hometown felt so wonderful as they did on Saturday morning.

We flew into Utah late Friday night on a flight I will say was not the best one I’ve ever taken (two spills, two fingers squished in the tray/table door, two times rocking Little Miss to sleep, one discreet clothes change on a sleeping child, and three children who were sleeping by the time we got to the gate – but who’s counting?). That, along with the fact that it had been two weeks since my last run, had me itching to get some miles in. And with our half-marathon just a week away, I really needed to give my IT band a test.

So after I put Little Miss down for her morning nap, I snuck out the door while the boys played with my brother and dad. I told them I was only going a couple of miles. Maybe five, if all went well. And off I went.

Down one hill, down another, then up and up and up and up. I may have stopped once or twice to “enjoy the view” (and catch my breath), or maybe take a picture. I hit the two mile mark without even a twinge. The three mile mark and still no pain. By four miles, when I finally turned to go back down the mountain, I was still feeling great. And as I rounded the corner back to my parent’s house and hit the five mile mark I could only feel bit of tingling if I really focused on my IT band.

I’m still hesitant to say that I’m healed. But another painless 4.5-miler today with my sister makes me think that at least I’ll be starting Saturday’s half-marathon without a nagging injury.

Let’s hope I end it the same way.

“I can’t wait until we go to Utah!” (Me either!)

“How many more days until we go to Utah?” (Zero! T minus 5 hours to lift-off!)

“Are we going to have trail mix when we go to Utah?” (Yes. A big ol’ bag of it.)

Summer vacation, here we come. Three weeks of yards and trampolines and cars and cousins and aunts and uncles and races and movies and splash pads and marshmallow roasts.

This is the stuff summers are made of and we’re going to soak it up like sponges.

See you next week!

And this week on Babble:

It turns out that “moderation in all things” applies to salt, too. Try to find a happy medium.

A burpee is a burp you get from drinking a slurpee, right?

Do you know why you get side stitches? Nobody else does either.

“Reduced fat” food could be sabotaging your diet.

And finally, ladies, let’s stop the fat talk. We have better things to talk about. I’m sure of it.

“You’re only five years old, but you’re smart. Sometimes you take a leap.” There was definitely a part of me that wondered why on earth I was listening to the voice of Tina Fey, as a character who nearly drives off the road every time she gets behind the wheel of her tiny car, and thinking, “Yes. She’s right. Sometimes you take a leap. Sosuke is a smart boy. I would trust him to take care of a fish-girl in a strange storm/flood as well.”

But the other part of me did not wonder why I was taking parenting advice from Tina Fey’s avatar. My kid is smart. He’s responsible. He’s thoughtful and thorough. He does not do things impulsively. He spends a lot of time reading. I would trust him to take care of a fish-girl, too, if it came right down to it. I may even leave him at home, by himself, if there was some sort of emergency I had to take care of elsewhere.

In fact there have been times – non-emergency times – in which the boy really does not want to come with me to do the laundry or run errands or even go to a playground when I have considered leaving him home alone. It can be boring and disruptive to whatever it is that he is immersed in. He has to put on shoes and, sometimes, a jacket or coat. Who wants to do that when they’re in the middle of a good book? So we have spent lots and lots of time discussing why he can’t stay home by himself before he finally gives in, grabs his shoes, and follows me out the door, moaning the whole time. It is a pleasant experience possibly only for the Little Miss, who adores her older brother and gets a kick out of everything he does.

So Tina Fey had me thinking, “Why don’t I take a leap?” Why can’t I leave my intelligent, responsible 6-year-old by himself, safely locked in our apartment for 10 minutes while I go around the corner with his siblings to get the laundry?

And what about other situations? Say, for example, that we lived across the street from a playground. And say Manchild didn’t want to come out and play right then, but Squish was anxious to go on the swings. Would I leave him there alone? With strict instructions to stay put? Or with the expectation that he would come find me at the playground if he decided to come out and play?

We tossed around this idea for a few days, going through all the logistics we could think of. Would he need to lock the door on his way out? Could he cross the street by himself? What if he couldn’t find me at the playground? And as we went deeper into various scenarios, the sillier I felt that we were so concerned about parsing out every possible situation that could arise in the course of a 6-year-old walking across the street by himself – and especially as I realized how interested the boy was in the topic. It seemed like a revelation to him that he could, possibly, be given the opportunity to cross the street on his own. Or that he would be trusted to go nowhere and do nothing while I ran a quick errand.

And his interest in the situation, the way he went over the various scenarios with us over dinner, and the way he follows the rules in general made me think that it’s about time to show some faith in him. The kid’s got to be trusted to cross the street on his own sometime. And certainly at 6 – a mature, responsible 6 – he could be. The more I thought about it, the more I realized it was actually  the thought that somebody else might disagree with my evaluation of my child that was holding me back. Somebody else might think that no child that young should ever be left alone. Somebody else might call child protective services on me. Or something.

But sometimes you take a leap. So one day, a couple of weeks ago, I did. Manchild wasn’t feeling 100%, but Squish had his heart set on a bike ride around the block. So I took a deep breath, told the boy we’d be back in 10 minutes or so, and to stay put. He was reading a book on the couch, as he so often does, and seemed not in the least interested or concerned as we walked out the door.

For a few moments as I followed Squish around the block, with Little Miss in the carrier, I wondered who I would run into that would ask where the big boy was, who would find me out and report me for child neglect. But no one did, and when we came back a few minutes later, Manchild was reading a book on the couch, as he so often does.

He seemed not in the least interested or concerned as we walked in the door.

I don’t know when I’m going to get around to it, but there is a part 2 to this post. It could be next week. It could be in two months. I like to keep you on your toes like that.