Race-of-the-Month Club

I've been trying to sign up for about one race per month.

If things go as planned, I'll hit all but two months between May of 2011 and October of 2012. And I've got two scheduled for July. So....17 races in 18 months.

Not bad.

This month's race was a 5-miler in Fort Wayne. This race also had an option for a 20K (about 12.4 miles), but I've kind of decided to focus less on the distance runs and more on the adventure-slash-trail races.

I ran with two co-workers, one being a total hard-core ninja who went for the 20K (you're a rock-star Sandy!!), and the other being my regular running partner, Erin.  Erin's not been available for most of the other races I've signed up for, so this was actually her first official race since the days of high school cross country in North Branch, Michigan.

Erin and I are very similar in our running capabilities, and we literally crossed the finish line together. Ben asked if I grabbed her hand and held it overhead while running through the finish-line arch, but unfortunately I hadn't thought of that idea beforehand otherwise I totally would have done it.

I didn't hit my goal of 45:00, but I'm reasonably pleased with my finish time of 46:03.

As a brief aside, Justin and Erin graciously agreed to drive me to the race to allow Ben to take the kids to Angola. Mandy, the aggravatingly annoying voice on Erin's Tom-Tom GPS, has proven herself to be less-than-trustworthy once again, as she led us to a totally off-the-beaten-path, random location that turned out to be fifteen miles beyond where we were actually supposed to be:

Mandy: You have arrived at your destination.
Justin: .....uh.....I have? This looks like someone's house. 

But, we made it to the race on time, it was a perfect day for a run, and Justin got to witness what he described as a totally-awesome vomit story, of which I shall spare you the details. Rest assured that neither Erin nor myself were actually a part of it, so I consider that a WIN.

Next month: 10-mile trail run in Winona Lake.

On eating grass, and other life lessons

Noah was playing with a "magic wand" craft that he made last weekend at a birthday party for one of his classmates.

It has swirly ribbon hanging from the end of it.

He gets really upset when that ribbon gets tangled.

Tonight as he was swinging his wand around, Travis stuck his hand out, directly into the path of the swirly ribbon, and got said ribbon all tangled up.

Noah said, "Travis messed up my wand!!"


Travis: "No I didn't! You're just trying to get me in trouble!"


Noah: "No I'm not! You did too mess it up!"


This went on for a few minutes, back and forth, no-I-didn't-yes-you-did, then Noah turned to me and said, "Who is telling the truth?"


Seriously? I couldn't possibly get a better after-school-special-lesson opportunity if one was served to me on a silver platter.

I said, "It's time for a little lesson on perspective."

I grabbed a blade of grass from the back yard, and asked them to tell me how an ant would describe that blade of grass.

"It's a giant green thing!"
"It would take me nineteen minutes to walk across it!"
"It's really heavy!"


Then I asked them to tell me how an elephant would describe it.

"It's a tiny green thing!"
"I can barely see it!"
"I can squash it in one step!"


Then I said, "Okay, who is telling the truth? The ant, or the elephant?"

----

Silence.

Noah said, "......me?" (That kid's always trying to win an argument.)

I explained that they both are telling the truth, it's just that they have wildly different perspectives.

We went on:

Let's use a different example. If I put a piece of pizza in front of Sophie, she would say, "Yum!! Pizza! I LOVE pizza!!" But if I put that same piece of pizza in front of Travis, he would say, "Pizza doesn't taste good. No thank you." Who is telling the truth?


"They both are!"


That's right, they both are telling the truth, they just have different perspectives.


So we talked a little about how you can disagree with someone because they are seeing something from a different perspective, but it doesn't make that person wrong. And that the sooner they are able to understand someone else's perspective, the easier they will find it to get along with people.

Sophie tried to learn this lesson, too, but she didn't get it so much. She was more enthralled with the fact that we brought a blade of grass in from outside. She interjected, "If you put a blade of grass in front of me, I would say, "YUM! I love grass!"


Yup, sounds about right.

It's always SOMEthing.

A couple weeks ago, I pulled something in my neck while doing overhead presses, one of five lifts that I do in my new weight lifting program.

My neck muscles were stiff and tight afterwards. I decided to take a week off of lifting, and even took a break from running because I noticed that even a run made it stiffen up more.

So last week, no workouts. Not a one.

It was nice, I'd been going pretty hard-core for quite a while, and I think it was time for a break. I enjoyed it. But I also looked forward to getting back to it. I've really come to love weight lifting and find that I miss it during a break like this one.

I decided that today, Sunday, I'd do another run, and then get back to my weight lifting routine on Monday.

But? I've done something awful to my shoulder.

This shoulder always pops a lot, but rarely hurts. Now, I can't pick up a bowl of animal crackers without gasping in pain.

I don't know what on earth I did to it. It doesn't feel like I slept on it wrong. It doesn't feel like sore muscles. It feels like my shoulder joint is tearing apart.

I'm frustrated and sad, because I've called off my run for today since I really need to keep my shoulder immobile, and I'm probably not going to be able to do my weight lifting tomorrow. As I mentioned, there are only five lifts involved, and I can't do four of them with this shoulder pain.

This week off was supposed to be good for me, and I can't believe I've ended it by somehow hurting myself in some random way enough that I can't resume my workouts like I'd planned.

Bollocks.

Personal Best

Today at the gym, some guy stopped me and said, "You've really trimmed down a lot. How much have you lost?"

So I told him -- I've lost over 30 pounds in about 6 months. He congratulated me and asked me a bit about what I had been doing. He knows I run and lift weights -- I see him 3 or 4 times a week at the gym because our workout schedules are fairly similar -- and I told him that I'd been logging my food and generally eating around 1800 calories a day.

It's a little bit hard for me to come to grips with my new skinny body. I feel an odd mix of vain pride and  stupid self-consciousness in most social situations. I can't even figure out if I'm actually slim or if I just think I am because I'm not as fat as I used to be. I've always had a very difficult time evaluating what my body *actually* looks like versus some ridiculous picture in my head.

But the truth is, I've mostly decided I don't care anymore.

I'm in my mid-thirties and I'm not looking to have a rockin' bikini bod. (That's not likely to happen, anyway.) I'm happily married and am not looking to get a lot of male attention - I've never been one to like being the center of attention anyway. My self-worth is NOT tied to my dress size. (Most days, anyway.)

What I do care about:

Doing jumping jacks in the kitchen with Sophie while we're waiting for dinner to cook (and she says, "mom, we're EXERCISING!").



Finding out exactly what my body is capable of (like knocking out three unassisted chin-ups, or deadlifting my bodyweight, or getting a new personal best in that 5k race).

Talking openly with my kids about what it means to be healthy and how and why we should make healthy choices more often than not. But more important than talking about it -- actually living it -- a balanced, 'everything-in-moderation' lifestyle where they learn some basic healthy attitudes without it being an obsession.

And, most importantly, teaching my kids about respecting all people, including themselves, regardless of outward appearance. This was a big deal for me as I started losing weight because I didn't want my kids -- especially my daughter -- to pick up on the idea that I wasn't as valuable as a person because I was overweight. I've told my kids that I'm working on being healthier because it is easier on my body, my joints, my heart, when I'm a lighter weight. And that I'm working on being stronger because it makes me able to do more fun stuff, more work stuff, more 'stuff' in general. And that there are all different kinds of people in the world and they are all working on different things about themselves, and that we never know where a person might be in their lives or what's most important to them at that moment, so it is not useful to judge someone just because we think there is something they could improve on. We could all improve on something.

As an aside, I am madly in love with my weight-lifting routine, which is super-simple in concept -- only 5 different lifts in total -- but an awesomely-tough actual workout. I actually get a silly enjoyment of being one of very few women in the free-weight section of the gym, and the only one I've ever seen squatting in the power rack. I feel stronger and healthier than I have in a long time, and I love it.

And, watching Sophie do her 'push-ups' before bedtime is enough to put a smile on anyone's face.