About Me

My photo
mother. marathoner. blogger. reader.

Monday, September 24, 2012

the one where I'm crying just writing this post

Two years ago, it was a Saturday, I was scheduled to get a massage. I had even shaved my legs, and considering I was 8 1/2 months pregnant at that time, that was a pretty big deal. Instead of heading to Athens for my massage, Seth and I drove the 40 minutes to the hospital because my daughter decided she had had enough and wanted out. Nevermind she was about 6 days ahead of her scheduled C-section date or that I was supposed to have my baby shower the next day. Nevermind that my Mom wasn't scheduled to come for a few more days and we had no one to stay with Will. I should have known then that life with E would never be predictable.

My little girl is going to be 2. 2! When did that happen? Where has the time gone? When did she go from being my little strawberry to the wild-haired, funny, independent little spark plug she is now? Sometimes, I catch myself staring at her little hands and feet, willing them to stay that way forever. Every day as she learns something new or does something that makes me laugh, I realize how blessed I am to have this little girl in my life. Blessed and scared all at the same time. Scared that she won't know how intelligent, brave, and beautiful she is. Scared that she will suffer heartbreak and sorrow; wounds and scars that I won't be able to shield her from or heal for her. 

I know I can't and shouldn't protect her from everything; that all I can really do is love her fiercely, pray for her continuously, and guide her as she grows. *sigh* If I'm this emotional about her 2nd birthday, they're going to have to pick me up off the floor for her 16th.

Happy Birthday E bomb. I love you more then I can say. 

   And even though I think that whole rolling your eyes thing is cute now, it won't be in about 10 years, so please stop while you're ahead.


Monday, September 10, 2012


Eleven years ago, I was a junior in college. Six hours away from my family and from the city that I love. There was nothing I could do but sit and watch the horror unfold on the television. Streets I had walked on were covered with debris. Buildings I saw almost every day of my life were suddenly gone. An empty, forlorn spot within the skyline I had grown up adoring.  

It took me months to realize how profoundly I was affected by the attack on my city. It took me years to watch or listen to any footage. I still, to this day, have not been to Ground Zero.

Freedom Tower - July 2012 
On the 10th anniversary of 9/11, I was running 17 miles in preparation for the NYC Marathon. This year, I'm scheduled to run 4 miles. I will spend those 4 miles praying and thinking about the lives that were lost that day. 

I may be 14 hours away and carry a different state's license in my wallet, but I am a New Yorker through and through. Never forget. Never forget.

Saturday, September 8, 2012

the one where I get on a soapbox

Begin rant:

I am 31 years old. I have been running for about 8 years. That's 8 years worth of shirts, socks, shorts, and running bras. That's 8 years of figuring out what works for me and what doesn't. Then suddenly, about 2 years ago, everything changed. Bras I've never had a problem with have started eating my flesh. (See below).  
post 15 mile run
 Shorts that I've worn for 4 years have started attacking my skin like it was an evil intruder (I will spare you that photographic evidence). My back looks like a torso from a straight to video horror flick. 

I have tried everything. New bras at all price points. Seamless bras that make grandiose promises of happy, chafe free skin. Bandaids. Bodyglide. Vaseline. Recently, per my Mother's suggestion, I have turned to Dove deodorant. Surprisingly, it works. However, and this is a very big however, it only works where I can reach. Hence, the very nasty, red line in the above picture. Who, at 6am, can coherently and accurately identify all the possible places on one's body where chafing might occur? Apparently, not me. 

I am baffled, that in 2012, not one single active wear company can design a sports bra that does not chafe. We can put a robot on Mars and yet I am running around my little town with chafing scars. I am baffled, completely baffled.      

End rant.

Disclaimer: I know that part of the problem is sweat. I know that I live in a part of the country where it is hot most of the time. I know that when Fall/Winter comes it will get better... let's hope my skin can hold out for that long.

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

the one where I boast about my husband

This past weekend, my husband did something that four years ago, I never imagined he would do. He got up early and participated in a 10k race. Not only did he post a personal record, but he came in 2nd in his age group and 6th overall. Sometimes, I look at him and wonder who is this person?

May 2008
One day, in 2009, Seth woke up and decided he was tired of being overweight. He wanted to set a healthy example for our son, and, most importantly, wanted to feel good about himself again.  

LBI 2007
So he laced up an old pair of sneakers and ran 3 miles. He did that 4 days a week for the next year. He ate salads for lunch and watched his portion size. As the miles started to pile up, the pounds disappeared. 102 lbs to be exact.

This is what running has done for my husband. It helped him discover the happy, healthy person he was meant to be. It has given him unparalleled self-confidence and the knowledge that no obstacle is too big to conquer.
What can running do for you?

Post LBI 18 miler 2012    

Saturday, September 1, 2012

the one where I make it rain

I ran 15 miles this morning. I fought for every mile. It was hot and humid and I was dripping by mile 3. I was so sweaty that I could squeeze droplets of sweat from the brim of my hat. At one point, while taking a much needed breather, I made it rain sweat upon unsuspecting little ants. They were fire ants, so I have no regrets.

It wasn't a horrible run, just tiring. Training for a marathon is much different at 31 then it was at 26. I used to think that getting up at 8 am for a long run was early. That was clearly before I had children. Now, if I get out of the house after 6, I spend the first mile telling myself I should have gotten out of bed earlier. The problem is, I'm tired and I have to fight with myself to get out of bed. Yesterday, I successfully talked myself out of running. I even reset my alarm. Then I started having hot flashes and couldn't fall back asleep. So I dragged my sweaty self out of bed and went running. Even my body is against me sleeping in.

I always hit this point in my training where I'm physically and emotionally overwhelmed by the enormity of what I've set out to do. The miles start to get longer and it feels like there's no break, no respite. I keep telling myself that I've been here before, in this exact place, and I have always managed to survive to make it to the starting line. The key is to take each day, each mile, one at a time.  

Today, a glass of chocolate milk, dinner at Panera, and a trip to Academy Sports made me feel better. This upcoming week is a step back week - that makes me feel better too.