Pink N Green

Wow, so there's been lots of positive feedback in support of the current blog style. Thanks so much for taking the time to say something. When I took a look at the new idea on my iPad and realized that it was nothing like what it looked like on the laptop, I was reminded of how little I know and how little time I have to really spend in order to figure it all out. As it is, I start feeling guilty when a full week passes and I haven't even written a post. Most of that is finding time, some of that is feeling like it's hard to spice up the redundancy of "I ran on the treadmill today", and a some of it is that I start to feel disconnected - like if I don't write, it could be interpreted as though I don't love all of you, and of course I do, or you'll think I've given up or have stopped moving, and of course I haven't, and on top of all that, I want you to keep reading and giving me words of wisdom and advice because it is really just so good for me.

Whenever anyone asks me what has helped me the most this year, my response for the most part has been, "well see, I write this silly little blog." I was sort of shy about it at first because I felt a bit premature in assuming that anyone would be interested in my personal goals, and I will never forget the day several years ago that a co-worker of mine said in the staff lounge, "Eh, blogs. Everybody thinks they're so damn important."

But over the past few months, I have gotten to the point that I just blurt out "the best thing for me by far has been writing a blog." For anyone out there who wants to make some big changes in their lives, I can't think of better advice to give than to start sharing your thoughts, feelings, ups and downs publicly. You might find, as I have, that you are important, that you are worth making the big changes, and that there are lots of people who will be eager to support you.

Decisions Decisions

Okay, so I've admitted to spending just a little tooooooooooo much time figuring out how to blog, how to embed links, how to play with font and color, how to, you know, do this. And, lately I've been feeling like I've done pretty well... for maybe a tween. Well no, a tween would probably have a killer site with all kinds of tech savvy coolness to it. Maybe a grandma. Or, maybe a great-grandma because I know several happening grandmas with lots of edge and style.

Yeesh.

So my question for you is, does it matter? I've grown to love the blog, but I kind of feel like I'm screaming at myself in pink and green. Will I still like it if I change it all?

Here's what I'm leaning towards.... what do you think?

www.mamagetsmoving.com/view/sidebar

Taylor Love Triathlon

The original title that I had in mind for this post was, "I probably shouldn't have done that," but I figure that it's easier to find a post about a triathlon if the word is actually in the title. That said, there were several moments Sunday morning when I thought to myself, "yeah, I probably shouldn't have done that."

Like any difficult conversation - parent-teacher conferences, annual reviews and the like - it's best to start with whatever positives you can find and play them up. So here they are:

1. My transitions were awesome. They were quick, and I wasn't totally scrambling or freaked out.
2. My run was amazingly easy and bordered on... get ready for it.... fun. (Remember, the run was only two miles.)
3. I did a great job of backing my T2 bag with a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. While I was frustrated with my overall performance, I was I think the only somewhat comfortable person standing around for an hour once the race was finished for the awards ceremony and thanks from the sponsors.

Then there were areas where I basically "met expectations."

1. The swim was short (300 yards), which was good because it occurred to me on Saturday that I haven't actually swam any laps since August 7th in the last sprint. The major miscalculation here wasn't that my muscles weren't prepared or that the swimming itself was difficult: it was that I hadn't held my breath for any reason since then. Whoops. Participants started fifteen seconds apart, and after passing the guy in front of me accidentally (I just didn't want to get passed and didn't realize that I got so close to him), I just sort of hung behind the next guy, ditched the flip turns, and took a few easier strokes to get a lot more air.

2. I packed everything into separate bags to easily set up the two different transition areas. This being my third sprint, I finally felt comfortable getting ready and didn't stay up all night in a panic worried that I'd forget something.

And so now of course we're left with the constructive criticism that highlights "areas for improvement."

1. Because there were two transition areas and I was getting a ride with a friend, I didn't pack a camera because I couldn't figure out where I'd want it - at T1 so I could take shots before we got started, or at T2 for the end, but neither would be that useful without the others, so I decided to just wait and rely on the official race photos. So uh, as you may have noticed by this point in the post, this event didn't have a photographer. Way to go novice blogger girl.

2. My bike started out well. It was just shy of 18 miles, most of which were a straight out and back from Herndon to Ashburn along the W&OD trail. I wasn't sure how hard to push myself, but I wasn't getting passed by too many men, and I passed a few women, so I figured everything would work out.

The first several road crossings were uneventful. Then, as I approached the next road, two police officers were stopping traffic in both directions and nodded me forward. A completely clueless driver swerved around one of the cars that had come to a stop and I had a flash - not of losing my life, but of being horribly injured, possibly paralyzed, worrying about my family and my idiocy of getting hurt while trying to get in shape. I saw the drivers eyes bulge as one cop jumped in front of her car and she saw me on my bike. I can only imagine my expression. And the cop WENT OFF. It all happened so fast, but the next mile of my ride was spent in a weird disbelief about the whole thing and an overly contemplative state. I must have slowed down a bit then, because I was passed by one woman on a tri bike totally decked out in her tri club gear, and another girl who I'd been talking to before the swim caught up to me. She was cheery and called to me, "okay let's go!" Thank goodness she did, because it got me out of my funk and back to the ride.

Everything was great as we rode near one another (with the required three bike lengths in between) for the next four or five miles and periodically called out encouragements to each other as more tribikes went whizzing by. When we got to the turnaround, all of a sudden she slowed down. I wasn't sure why, and I didn't know what to do. My struggle went something like this with the internal monologue in italics:

There's no I in team, there's no I in team... but this isn't in a team sport! Maybe she knows something I don't know.... maybe she just needs a minute or two... maybe I should ask...

Me: "uh... you doing okay?"

Her: "Yep!" (full of cheer and enthusiasm)

Hmmmm... does she think that I need a break?

Me: "Alright, you told me to go, so I went. Let's go!"

Her: "Yeah!"

Uh... yeah what exactly? .... Okay, my bike is screwed, but I knew I didn't know how to pace on the bike so maybe it's still okay... maybe this is like my Unintended Consequences post... that every step is a good step regardless of how fast... maybe the real life lesson for me here is embedded in this decision... ohhhh, pretty house....

And so, ask I looked at my watch and noticed the scenery along the path, I cheerfully called out, "Thank you!" and "Good Morning!" to all of the walkers and runners that we passed and the policemen stopping traffic. While I probably looked ridiculous and that I clearly had missed the part about the fact that I was in a race, I received several warm smiles and warm wishes in return.

There was a moment when I had almost convinced myself that everything was good and that having a teammate was more fun and worth going more slowly, and then as I thought about the upcoming run, my Pollyannaishness disappeared and was replaced with, "oh hell, what if she's an 8min/mile runner?! I'll be screwed!"

When we got to the transition and I was ready before she was, I gave her a nice big smile, called out in a supportive fashion, "Okay, let's do this!" and started running. Credit for being nice, but saving my run from the disaster that was my bike.

After crossing the finish line and seeing that my overall time was MUCH slower than what I had predicted, I was completely irritated with myself. Forget the weeks that I've spent trying to get ready for this race and throw the plan in the bucket?!?! Argh. How could I have done that?! As I stood with my friend and another racer and listened to them analyze their races, I shared that I was frustrated with myself and that "yeah, I probably shouldn't have done that."

Once the good, bad and ugly was shared amongst the three of us, the talk naturally turned to "the next time." "Next time I'll ______ insert get better gear, train harder, set up differently, etc." My next time? Next time I wear my ipod and avoid eye contact instead of making friends.

Great. Just awesome. I actually do the kind of thing I would want my daughter to do, and I get angry with myself for it. So now I'm asking myself again, what is my motivation? What makes a good race for me? Is it the process or the finish line? Can it be both? I'm working to remind myself that every step (ride, swim, race) is a good one and is more than I was doing last year.

For Me, For Her, For Him, and For Them

Throughout the year I eagerly sponsor friends who commit to events in order to fund raise for specific causes. I often have personal connections to the causes (Leukemia & Lymphoma, Susan G. Komen, Relay for Life), and sometimes I am just really thankful that I don't (American Heart Association, NAMI). Several years ago after my mother died, I was tremendously overwhelmed by the financial contributions made on my behalf by friends and family for the 40-mile Avon Walk for Breast Cancer.

Right now it's like this. There is a little newborn baby in Georgia named Caden Stanley, and he and his family need some help. He was born on August 3rd and immediately required open heart surgery. I have never met him or his parents, but I have read their blog, and I really sort of feel like the world needs a lot more people like them.

I have written several times about Meredith Atwood in my posts. Very recently she and her husband made the decision to dedicate their upcoming half-iron triathlon to Caden and his family and registered with yRun.org to help ease the financial strain of Caden's medical care. You can read Meredith's post here.

So I went to their yRun page and made a donation.

And then I wondered if there was something more that I could do. I had this idea that in addition to Meredith's fans and followers donating, maybe some of us could join in and dedicate an event as well. My events as you know are small, but so is Caden, and small can still be really amazing. So I asked her, and I emailed yRun.

She was awesome about it and totally open to anything that would help the Stanleys so that they could focus their time and energy on Caden and his sister, Jayci. Unfortunately the way yRun is organized, they are best able to pair one cause to one participant (or in the Atwoods case two).


But I kind of feel like doing it anyway. And who knows? Maybe some of her other friends and fans might too.


You all know that I've spent the past nine months refocusing my life and setting goals. For my 35th birthday, I have registered for the Veteran's Day 10K in Washington, DC. It will be my longest running race so far, and I hope to finish with the biggest sense of accomplishment since my big goal for 2012 is to do an olympic distance triathlon, which finishes with a 10K. I want to do it for myself, but I also want to do it for her because she inspires me and I love that she and her husband have made the choice to do this. And I want to do it for him because he is a sweet, and beautiful, and innocent little boy. And I want to do it for them because they need it, and if the tables were turned and one of my children needed similar care I would hope and pray that others would do it for me.

And so now I'm inviting you to be a part of this too. I won't know who you are, and I won't be able to thank you unless you tell me, but this, this is a good step. Whether it is $1, or $5, or $50, this is a good step.

Here is the link again if you want to donate.

9.11

I need to say from the beginning that I wasn't looking to be part of a memorial-type of experience when I registered for the Arlington 9/11 5K, and I admit that I signed up on a whim based on some very basic criteria:

#1 - it was only a 5K
#2 - it was close to home
#3 - it filled a void in my "events" calendar
#4 - it was at night so I thought I'd have better luck encouraging friends to sign up

Several weeks ago when I found out about the race, I didn't really spend any time thinking about the significance of the 10th anniversary. It isn't that I wasn't impacted by the terrorist attacks; I think I was just traumatized enough when it happened that I wasn't looking to reawaken stressful feelings and then have to re-experience it all over again. I was surprised when at the beginning of last week I found myself avoiding the news and being thoughtful in my detachment. I will never forget the nobility of so many amazing people that day, but I was afraid of what the images in the media might do - that some people might go right back into feeling scared, or victimized, or hateful.

As the days got closer to this anniversary, I noticed my anxiety levels rising and remarked to a few friends that I really just wanted to wake up and have it be September 12th. My husband told me that he was going to have to work over the weekend, and initially I didn't have an issue with it, but by Thursday I had asked him to plan to work as much as possible on Saturday because I really wanted to be with my family on the 11th. This was pretty out of character for me. We have a relatively small family, and it hasn't been unusual for us to abbreviate Thanksgiving, celebrate Christmas after the fact, etc. I really must sound heartless by this point in the post, but because we don't have huge traditions, it really isn't a big deal how major holidays roll out. So it was weird for me to feel an attachment to a specific day and want to hold them all close.

The race was actually on Saturday the 10th. Just before leaving I received a call from a friend in law enforcement who had received word that the race might be canceled due to suspicious activity. It wasn't, and a few quick calls to the local police departments were able to confirm that the race was still on, but there was a lingering feeling, "what are we doing going to the Pentagon right now?"

Once we parked and got closer to the race course, my denial was confronted. Brightly colored t-shirts divided the runners into various groups - FBI, Arlington Fire & Rescue, Loudon Police, Stafford Sherrifs. A huge flag was hung between two cranes above some kind of massive, dark blue tank-like police vehicle. I was caught off guard and felt bounced between so many smiling happy faces and the wistful looks on others that made me wonder what memories they were recalling - who might they have been missing? I was overwhelmed with pride for everyone there who had chosen to participate in an event that honored the past but reaffirmed the internal strength necessary for us all to move forward.

The race itself in retrospect was such a tiny part of the evening. For accountability purposes I will sum it up - The first mile was fun, the second was filled with doubt about my running and dread that I was going too slowly, and the third was difficult. Passing bagpipes playing in front of the Pentagon was distracting. It was an entirely different kind of heartache that I've never experienced while exercising. Sure I've had days when I've been angry or sad while exercising, although that hasn't happened in a while ten fifteen (ahem) years. Finally, the last quarter mile or so I was able to see the end and pick up my pace, remember that I was running for me and my own goals, and cross the line. After that it was all music, friends, pizza and beer, which incidentally is a much nicer finish-line treat than a bagel or a banana.

On Sunday, I took my kids to church while Justin finished up some files and then the four of us headed to my sister and brother-in-law's house. We had a fantastic day with their family and loved being included in their neighborhood court gathering. We went for a lovely walk in the woods, and my son swung his first baseball bat. I even managed to restrain hold him long enough for a family photo. There were dogs and kids and bicycles and toys, and people were laughing and relaxing and enjoying time together.

I may never have a Thanksgiving or Christmas tradition, but this weekend I could repeat every year. The day that I wanted to avoid because I was afraid of negative feelings, ill will, and very honestly more attacks, instead brought me a tremendous amount of joy as I embraced my friends and family and counted my blessings.

Oh and just in case you were wondering, the race results were posted online by the time I checked on Sunday evening. My time was 31:13, which is much faster than I have ever run before.

"Free Health Screening" - I am so naive

Joining the gym included a "free health screening", and it's only a testament to my gullibility that I opted for it. You know - I'll all about numbers, and benchmarks, and making progress. I may even need my own AYP. So when they said, "weight, strength tests, BMI," I thought it would be a good idea. Clearly there was not enough effort or foresight in my thinking.

It was a one-hour sales pitch!!! Ack! "Free health screening" needs to say, "Give up an hour of your life so we can try to sell you a personal trainer!" Justin later told me that I should have just walked away. Granted, he didn't say anything - no words of caution, no resiliency training, nothing - in ADVANCE.

It's true that I would L.O.V.E. a coach, but when I answered his question, "what are your personal goals?" by saying that I wanted to complete an olympic distance triathlon next year, it was pretty clear by his response that he had no idea what that would really entail. Poor guy. I know he just wanted me to say I wanted to lose 15 lbs and look better in a bathing suit. Still, he was the one stealing the hour from my life.

I did ask if there was any type of triathlon club that operated through the gym, or running club, or anything like that. After telling me that there weren't any, he suggested I sign up for a body sculpting class.

My family will argue this point, but I really feel that overall I'm not much for raising my voice. I wanted to pull him close and whisper very slowly,

"It. Is. Not. About. What. I. Look. Like.
Right now, I want, and need, to focus on
What. I. Can. DO."

Routinization

I went back to work this week after enjoying a long, relaxing, and blissful summer. Okay, no, I have a toddler and a ten-year-old. Let's just say that I went back to work this week after enjoying time with my family and planning most days around babysitting and exercise. I write everything down, as I've said before - run, swim, bike, yoga, walk, etc. One day I may show you all a picture... maybe... I write my weight on the paper, so perhaps after some CIA-type censorship.... Point being my journal has become a possession that I'm proud of and eagerly update.

Since going to work Monday morning, I've had two workouts. Monday night I went out with my running partner (I have not asked her for permission to call her that... it sounds much more official than saying my friend, but hopefully official in a good type of way that gets us to make the time and run regularly). We ran four miles at a pace of 10:45/mi, which is much better than I've done before. I still get anxious about running outside, "in the world" as I put it, as opposed to the bouncy treadmill that just keeps me going.

Last night I turned in my guest pass at the gym and enrolled for a regular membership. After that I zipped through 20 minutes on the bike, moved on to my weights, and headed home. I doesn't sound too bad to say that in the past four days, I have exercised on two of them; HOWEVER, I am terrified that all of my beautiful journal entries for the month of August will be followed by a teeny, tiny September section. My plan for the five workouts per week to get me more prepared for the next triathlon will be shattered if I only manage to exercise every other day.

What the heck has happened to me?!?!

I learned a new word this week - routinized. I'm not sure that I really learned it... I've read it before and knew what I was reading, but I don't think I'd ever heard it spoken, and I was completely dumbfounded when a friend at work not only said it but said it so that I could type it into our Power Point.

I assure you that the context at work had zilch to do with me or my exercise routine, but it is perfect for explaining my new conundrum - that I've gone and GOTTEN USED TO regular exercise! Now instead of panicking that someone may actually ask me to exercise, I'm panicking at the disruption in the flow and carefully crafted plans that I've created. (Yes, I do panic too much about too many things.)

The bottom line is that I am loving how I am feeling, and I absolutely need to A) figure out a schedule that will keep me feeling this way and is doable within a family of four, and B) force myself to do it even if it does mean waking up at 5am again.