Therapeutic Runnings Of A Mom

Hills.

You either love them or hate them.

Welcome them or dread them.

Embrace or avoid them.

Sometimes, I crave them.  I seek them out.  I charge at them.  Every muscle in my legs firing.  My lungs filling with air.  Exhilarated, I reach the top.  I smile.  I thank the Lord for the strength He has given me.

Sometimes, I dread them.  I avoid them.  I try to find another route. I think that I'm not strong enough to conquer what's ahead.  I look down. I slow down.  My legs get heavier and heavier.  I convince myself to keep going.  Moments from quitting.  I reach the top.  I grimace.  I thank the Lord the that the hill is behind me.

No matter what day it is.  No matter what run may be ahead of me.  I will feel one way or another about the hills I may face.  I live in the hills.  My main route is filled with hills.  It is inevitable that I will face hills on my run from my back door.

I have been babying my body since Eugene.  I spent the summer running slowly.  Carefully keeping my heart rate very low. And, with very few exceptions, keeping my mileage low.  No long runs to clear my head.  No long runs to keep me strong.  Just short, slow and quite, frankly, not often enough.

Hills were not charged.  They were walked.  Walked so that my heart rate would stay low.  And while I know my heart and body benefited from the rest, my muscles and my strength atrophied.  My mind atrophied.  My mind started to forget.  My heart started to forget.  I started to believe I could be done with running.  That I would have so much more time if I stopped running.  That life would be easier without running.

Hindsight.  Satan was winning that one.

Then, one Sunday at church, the pastor talked about living life without a parachute.  Without a back-up plan.  God is our plan.  What would you do if it was just you and God and that was your plan? 

That Sunday, my Heavenly Papa spoke to me and I welcomed Him.  I'd been missing Him. I'd been too busy doing life.  I wasn't in chaos. I wasn't facing any hills.  I was just living.  And, He invited me in...

He was faithful to show me all the times that He has gone to battle for me and with me. He was faithful to open my eyes. He was faithful to challenge me.  He was faithful to point out my weakness. 

That Sunday, I was left with these thoughts racing through my head...

What would you do if it was just you and God?

What would you do if your fear/anxiety didn't hold you back?

What would you do if you let go of the insecurities that you have clung so tightly to all these years?

My heart lept.  My cup overflowed.  My eyes were opened to the possibilities.  I charged the hills with a smile on my face.  My muscles firing.  My strength renewed.

As I looked ahead to where God was leading me, I realized, once again, that my run was vitally important to my heart.  That Satan had been, once again, trying to keep me away.  He knows I need that time with God.  He knows that is when I am strengthened in body, mind and soul.  I wish I wasn't so forgetful...

I've been running the hills a lot lately.  Mostly embracing them.  Some days are better than others.  Sometimes, I forget how strong they make me.  Sometimes, I try to avoid them, only to find an even bigger one up ahead.  Thankful, for the moments when God is faithful to remind me how hills make me stronger...

Yesterday, I went for the most glorious run.  I ran along the waterfront on a mostly flat trail.  I smiled.  I prayed.  I sang.  I stopped to take pictures.  I flew.  I slowed myself down.  The miles were effortless and I smiled when I looked at my times.  Times that reminded me how strong the hills have made me.  Times that reminded me of how all hills, whether those you face running or in life, will always make you stronger.

I've gazed at those pictures from yesterday more times than I can count.  Little reminders of God's goodness and faithfulness.  Breathtaking reminders of His love and His beauty.  Thankful that He continues to invite me to run the hills with Him.  Thankful for every breath.

Something old?

I love running.

Something new?

Running with my heart rate at 180-my age=144 beats per minute.

Why?

I was over reading Miss Zippy's blog earlier this week and it made me wonder if perhaps I just needed to start over.  If, perhaps, by starting over, I might be able to get to where I want to go.  Perhaps, by starting over, my races can get better and better rather than worse. 

Miss Zippy does a great job explaining about MAF training here, here and here...

I figure, I have the time.  I have nothing on the horizon.  I have a HR monitor I have never used.  Why not give it a try??

So, the kids and I loaded up in the car and headed to the track.  I was supposed to warm up for a mile, but, honestly, my heart rate was well over 100 as I walked to the track.  Getting higher with each step.  I decided to just go.

Oh my. 

This is not for the impatient.

As I attempted to keep my heart rate below 144 I walked, I jogged, Cole could walk at my pace...

Mile 1:  10:35

Although slow, it only reinforced the thought that this was a good idea...

Mile 2:  12:46

A really good idea...

Mile 3:  12:54

It is not easy to keep your heart rate at 144...

Mile 4:  13:14

Could my monitor be on wrong???  No, this is good...

Truly, this was an eye opener.  I laughed with Cole as I told him I wasn't even sweating.  That I didn't feel like I was exerting myself in any way, shape or form.  I'm not kidding when I say that a women, who appeared to be in her 70's passed me. :) 

I know this is a good thing.  It's reflected in my times.  I can't wait to see where this will take me.

Thankful to have happened upon Miss Zippy's blog :)

Life has been all sorts of crazy the last few weeks.  Not bad crazy, just crazy...

Well child checks for kids...

Ortho appointments...

Pediatric urologist appointments...

Surgery scheduled for one sweet pee...

Braces going on scheduled for another...

Schedules to juggle...

End of school year festivities...

Field trips...

Work...

Colds...

Anxiety...

Life.

Through all this, one thing has been missing...

The run.

As I've gone through the days, sidelined by life, I've missed the run.  I've missed the quiet, the fresh air, my special time with God.  And yet, I have choices, choices to get done what needs to get done, or to ignore it and run.  I've chosen to stay focused and get through the last few weeks.

Then, although the scale doesn't budge, my mind tells me I've gone soft.  That I'll never get it back.  Good luck on even squeaking out 2 miles.  My mind?  Or Satan?  Yeah.  As I type, pretty sure that's Satan. 

What's beautiful is that I have a memory bank that will not go away.  A memory bank that just now, reminded me that this is just the way it is.  That I go through this every year when school gets out.  That I haven't lost it.  That even if I can only squeak out 2 miles that it will all come back.  That these crazy days will soon give way to the wonderful, deep breath of summer...

A beautiful reminder...

That memory bank is this blog.  Sometimes I think about shutting it down.  What's the point?  It seems there's only about 4 people who read it anyway.  I've always wanted this to be a place for me to therapeutically download whatever it is that is going through my mind.  I've kept my thoughts public in hopes that maybe, just maybe, God would use my story to bless someone.  That perhaps, by sharing, someone won't feel alone.  That someone would understand and come to know God's love for them.  I've kept it public because I've felt like that was what God wanted.  I've pressed publish, I've been vulnerable...  all in hopes that just one person could be blessed.  However, sometimes, it's hard to press publish, it's hard to be vulnerable, it's hard to know that people can read some of my deepest thoughts and I would never even know that they stopped by.  Sometimes, I just want to shut it down...

Last night, I started reading old posts.  Looking through the archives.  Smiling.  Crying.  Feeling God's presence.  Taken back to the painful times.  Taken back to the blessings.  And although my feet weren't laced into my shoes, my heart felt like God and I had just gone for a run. 

So often, a thought will cross my mind and I want to write about it.  But, I'm busy, I don't find the time.  I don't make the time.  I wish I did.  These thoughts, this blog, it does bless someone.  It blesses me.  It reminds me of God's love, His faithfulness, His blessings.  Now, I hope that maybe someone, besides myself can be blessed too :)

A month ago I got a text from a friend asking if I would like to join he and his wife at our local running store's 1st Thursday Urban Adventure Run.  My hubs was out of town and the kids were all taken care of so I thought, "sure, why not?"

It was a hot day and a beautiful evening as we heading down to P-town for a little adventure.  I'm about as adventurous as...  well, let's put it this way, Hood To Coast is about as adventurous as I get.  I was with 2 of my favorite people so, although out of my comfort zone, I knew I was in good company and we would have fun no matter what.


Finding and running from location to location proved to be an excellent adventure.  Seeing parts of P-town that I've never seen before (I don't get out much) and topped off by the fact that one street was closed for vendors with beautiful art on display and awesome music playing that left us feeling like we were running with Jason Bourne - dodging people, swerving, weaving, exhilarating...

At each location, we received a raffle ticket.  At the end of the run we placed our tickets in the buckets and waited to see if we had won any prizes. 

Garmins, shoes, socks, you name it...  all raffled off to various winners.  There were some prizes I said, "that would be amazing!!"  And others that had me thinking, "no, thank you."

Next up, an entry to the Spartan Race.  An adventure race of the most epic proportions.  Now, remember that part where I said I'm not adventurous??  Yeah, my number was called.  I quickly looked around me and locked eyes with the guy behind me as I said, "I just won, do you want it??"  I quickly gave him my ticket so he could claim the prize.  No, thank you.

You see, I love running.  I love the bliss filled and sometimes painful miles that come with distance running.  I love the peace, the quiet, the deep breath.  I have 5 kids.  That is enough adventure for me.  However, I also understand that for some people, these adventures fill their cup like no other.  That the adventure, for them, is so much better than my bliss filled, quiet runs in the country.

So, when I was contacted by the Spartan Race to host a giveaway I was beyond excited.  I understand that we are all made differently and that someone's day could be made with a free entry to what the Spartan Race says is "Obstacle racing at it's toughest!"

From their website...



Sound like an awesome adventure??

Spartan Races can be found all over the country and the giveaway entry is good for any open Spartan Race in the 2013-2014 season in the continental U.S.

Almost 8 1/2 months ago, I finished the Girlfriend's Half Marathon.  I made it through the miles feeling like absolute garbage and just about passed out after crossing the finish line.  It was the wake up call that I needed.  God knew it.  I knew it.

Days later, a Groupon came up for a local Naturopath.  I emailed my dear friend and my sweet husband to see what they thought.  I don't care much for Dr.'s as they are very good at saying, "I don't know what the problem is.  Let's try this..."  That road continues until they still don't know what's wrong and you've spent a lot of money on nothing.  For years, I've thought about going to a Naturopath but hated to spend the money.  This Groupon made me take the plunge.

My visit with the Naturopath was amazing.  I felt like I'd made a new best friend and felt like I was in very capable hands.  Hands that had a plan.  Hands that had me feeling hopeful.  Deep breath and off we go.

Her diagnosis?  My thyroid was pooped, my adrenals shot, I was calcium and zinc deficient.  And, to top it off, the results of my food intolerance test showed that I am intolerant of all fruits with the exception of tomatoes, rhubarb and all melons.  My body also does not tolerate corn and potato consumed within 4 hours of each other.  She also recommended I cut back on my mileage to allow my body to rest and rebuild.

Excuse me?

I received the results of the food intolerance test late on a Friday afternoon, after reading through the extensive list, I sat down with a big, juicy, Fuji apple and savored every single last bite.  And then, I said goodbye.

Three days after removing all offending foods from my diet I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.  I looked different.  Rather, my belly looked different.  I stepped on the scale and was shocked to see I was down 5 lbs.  Not 5 actual pounds, but 5 pounds worth of inflammation.

Five days after removing said foods, I started my period.  A period with ZERO cramping.  I asked my Naturopath if that could really be because of my food.  Yes.  It can.  My body had been so focused on the foods I was putting into it that it did not like and therefore, I got to deal with all sorts of fun. :)  Along with removing said foods, I've also started seed cycling.  An amazing thing that all females should know about.  It truly has helped me to have little to no PMS symptoms. 

Natural thyroid meds...
Adrenal meds...
Vitamins...
Seeds...
Fish oil...
Evening primrose oil...
Probiotics...

My drawer in the kitchen grew with my special meds and special foods...

While I was excited to start feeling better, I was a bit overwhelmed with my food options.  So many things that were in my daily diet were now off limits...  My beloved apples and bananas and Chobani yogurt!  And, as I started to add running back into my life, I realized I had a bit of a problem...

All my running fuel was now off limits.

No more Nuun...

No more Gu...

No more bananas...

Yikes.

I tried running with sun/almond butter and found that was great up to about 10-12 miles.  I tried Pocket Fuel and that got me to about 15 miles.

On one of my long run attempts, I had Pocket Fuel and water.  That was the run that had me covered in salt and cramping and crying by the time I reached my car.  That was the run that had me realizing that electrolytes are incredibly important.

The next long run, I armed myself with salt pills and pocket fuel.  That also ended with intense cramping and a mile short of my goal.

On my final long run attempt before Eugene, I tried Honey Stinger Gels and salt pills.  Mile 15, I quit with intense leg cramps and tears falling on the side of the road.  Ugly shuffling to 20 miles.

My dear friend did some research and said it pointed to low potassium. 

I headed to the store and got a potassium supplement...

Eugene.  Yeah, that happened.  My dear friend told me I needed to talk to my Naturopath about my nutrition.  That I needed to figure it out.  At the time, I wasn't sure it was necessary.  I wasn't sure I would want to endure that pain again.  And, of course, I was already looking forward to another 26.2 less than 24 hours after crossing the finish line.

Since Eugene, I've been able to make it about 8 miles before my legs start to cramp.  I've been focusing on getting potassium into my body in both potassium rich foods and with supplements.  And, on Friday, I finally went and had a visit with my Naturopath.

As I explained all that had been happening, she had me go into the exam room with her.  She tested my calcium and I was shocked by what she had to say.  Shocked because at my last visit, my calcium was good.  However, now,  I was incredibly deficient!  She went on to explain that while my nutrition/potassium/electrolytes may be an issue, she suspected the lack of calcium in my body was the culprit.  As I have read more about calcium deficiency, I'm fairly certain that has absolutely been my problem.  It would also explain why my legs have been aching throughout the day on most days.

Go figure.

Every time I take my big dose of calcium I imagine it going straight to my legs.  I look forward to days of no leg cramping and runs that go on for miles and miles.

I'm shocked by how complicated it all is.  My head wants to tell my body to do one thing.  My body tells my head to...  well, it says, "no".

In my quest to get my body to follow my mind, I'm exploring new foods and finding new favorites...

Kale...

Vega...

And, much to my Mom's surprise and pure joy...


Sauerkraut straight out of the jar :)

Here's to getting there!

I went into Sunday not knowing what to expect.

I was hopeful.

I was anxious.

I was excited.

The race started, I turned my music on and off I went...

Smiling.

Believing.

Thankful.

Talking to God with every step...

Thanking Him.

Praising Him.

Praying for friends.

I decided not to look at my watch.  To run on feel.  The word "believe" kept playing through my head.  I started a bit behind the 4 hour pacer and at some point, I passed him.  I thought about slowing down, about playing it safe and then I heard, "believe".  So, I kept going.

Singing.

Smiling.

Praising.

Praying.

Then, mile 9, just after the hill at mile 8, my legs started complaining.

Believe...

Mile 10, my Ipod stopped.  It was time to GU.  I made it down a little hill and pulled to the side.  My Ipod was dead.  The songs making me smile were gone.  I choked down my GU and carried on.

It was painful. 

I wanted to be done.

I could not imagine finishing this race with the way my legs were feeling.

Walk.

Run.

Ugly shuffle.

Done.

I didn't have my phone with me so, at one point near mile 13 I asked a spectator if I could use their phone.  I called Marnee and let her know where I was.  They were 2 miles away.  She said, "we'll see you really soon, we're only 2 miles away."  I said, "yeah, I'll just sprint to you.  I'll be right there."  Hear the sarcasm?

I was ticked.

Not at her.

At my legs.

Mile 15.  Marnee, Ashley, Devon and Ryan all give me hugs.

I'm done.

Marnee says, "we'll just keep going until you can't take another step."

The comments she heard leave my mouth...

"This is stupid."

"This is not fun."

"This is not my happy."

"This sucks."

"I want to get in the car."

Her words...

"You've got this."

"You're amazing."

"You can do it."

Me...

"I don't want to."

"I hurt"

At some point, I talk to my sweet husband.  He lets me know that whatever I decide to do is okay.  No one will be disappointed if I quit.  He loves me.  He encourages me. 

I keep walking.

I'm mad.

My legs cramp in waves.  Much like labor, the pain comes and goes.  We shuffled, we walked.  I would feel my legs start to cramp.  My muscles would tighten, I would cry.  I would stop.  I sat on the grass.  The entire time wanting to be done...

Thinking of ways to escape.

Embarrassed.

Hurting.

Done.

Along the path, we can see the 1/2 Marathoners.  They have just passed mile 12.  They are less than a mile from the finish.  Marnee and I are still a long way from the finish.  She tells me I have a choice.  I can choose to be done.  Only a mile away.  Or, we can keep going.  I stop.  I think.  I keep going.  I feel like I'm going to puke.  My legs are cramping.  Her phone rings as I bend over to heave...

She's on the phone.

I'm hurting.

I start walking back to the fork in the road.

I quit.

Then, I get ticked.

Embarrassed.

I turn around.

I end up adding 1/4 mile to my race.

I keep going.

I tell Marnee, "I'd rather quit than suck.  I don't want to do this."  Through tears, "I hurt so bad!"

We keep going.

Me hurting.

Her encouraging... 

In her khaki shorts. 

Her spectator clothes. 

She's right beside me. 

She tells me I'm amazing.

I say, "yeah, uh huh."

All the while, thinking I'm far from amazing.

Walking.

Shuffling.

Stopping.

Cramping.

Crying.

Feeling muscles hurt in my legs that I've never felt before.

The top of this foot.

The heel of that foot.

My glutes.

My quads.

Thankful for the compression socks I bought at the expo as they kept my calves feeling better than the rest of me.

We encouraged those that we passed and those that passed us.

They responded the same way I did.

At one point I told a guy, "hey, you don't get to respond like that!  That's my response!  There's only room for so much negativity on this course!!"

He smiled.  He laughed.  We all kept going.

I formed a plan and shared it with Marnee.

When Harmony finished, I want Ryan to come get us.  I'm done.  The only way I will finish is if we only have 2 miles left.  I can suck it up for 2 miles.

"Are you sure??"

Yes.

I'm done.

This is stupid.

Marnee calls Devon and tells her I'm done.  She tells her the plan.  Maybe she tells Ashley too.  A bit later, Marnee's phone rings.  I hear...

"Yep.  Okay.  Uh huh."

"Who was that?"

"Ashely"

"What did she say?"

"Um...  Harmony is boycotting your escape plan."

"Excuse me???  What did you just say??"

I stared at her in disbelief.  Her words made no sense.

"Harmony isn't letting you quit."

I.  Was.  Ticked.

We kept going.

Marnee encouraging me even as her body ached.

I cried.

I hurt.

I just wanted to be done.

We kept going.

As we shuffled along I realized something.

Everyone we encouraged gave the same response...

Ticked.

Hopeless.

Hurting.

I told Marnee, "you know what's so crazy about being here.  THIS was no ones goal.  I can guarantee that these people did not enter this race with this pace in mind.  THIS is not what they wanted."

After the bombings in Boston, I heard one of the commentators say that the "stragglers", the "slower, recreational runners", were the ones that did not finish.  I was ticked when I heard those statements.  Ticked because, clearly the commentator had no clue what goes into qualifying for Boston.  Clearly, he had never ran a marathon.  Please don't disregard us "slower recreational runners." 

It's hard work in the front of the pack.  And, quite honestly, it's hard work in the back too.

26.2 miles is still 26.2 miles.

Even if you're doing the ugly shuffle.

Somehow, even though I quit, my friends got me across that finish line.  It was not my doing.  I was carried, pulled and shoved along that course. 

I quit.

My friends didn't.

God didn't.

As we crossed that finish line, Marnee and I hugged and sobbed.  We got our medals and promptly collapsed on the ground in the finishers area.  I laughed as I realized we must have been quite the sight.  All the volunteers could see was a 5:10 half marathon finisher embracing a 5:10 marathon finisher.  Neither of which are stellar performances.  And yet, we were hugging and crying as if we had won the race.

During the painful steps to the finish line Marnee told me I should talk to my Dr. about my nutrition.  Since finding out that I'm intolerant of all fruits except tomatoes, rhubarb and melons, it's been hard fueling my body properly.  My dear friend had done some research after my last, painful, long run and said that everything pointed to low potassium.  I had started taking a supplement, but she suspects it still was not enough.  I told her that if I ever decided to try 26.2 again I would talk to my Dr.  At the time, I wasn't sure I would ever want to try again.

Less than 24 hours later, I was already thinking about next time.

I still cannot embrace any positive comments on this one.  I cannot accept the, "I'm proud of you" or "you're amazing."  Because, quite honestly, I quit.  I did not get to the finish because it was what I wanted.

My friends are amazing.

God is amazing.

I'm a quitter.

It hurts.

However, I am beyond thankful for the weekend.  For some amazing moments that God blessed me with.  For amazing friends that God, in all His goodness, has blessed me with.  For the opportunity to even toe that line in the first place.

I keep wanting to press rewind on the weekend.  To linger in those moments a while longer.  I don't want the pain back (quite frankly, my legs are still screaming at me!) but I want the moments.

For now, the moments sit on my heart.  Filling my cup.  Making me smile.  Moments that take my breath away and bring tears of thankfulness to my eyes.

I cannot believe that even in my moments of being a complete brat, God still chooses to bless me.

He amazes me.

I cannot comprehend it.

God is good even when I am not.

Now, I will rest.  I will look at my nutrition.  I will heal my body.  I will take deep breaths with my Heavenly Papa.  I will smile and be thankful for friends who hold me up and even drag me along.  And, I'll remember those moments in the back of the pack and remember that no matter the pace 26.2 miles is still 26.2 miles.