I Knew at The Finish Line

A wee bit of sunburn, scrapes on my knees and elbows, bruised shin and a load of extremely muddy laundry...... that is what I have right now. Well,  that and a whole lot more. About a year ago I read "Spartan Up" by Joe Cena. It answered the question,"why?  Why pay good money to push your body to the limit?  What is the point of the cuts and bruises that follow?"  Joe had an easy answer to that. "You'll know at the finish line."

Today, I ran up a beautiful hill to find one last obstacle. A muddy hill to climb and descend followed by a long mud pit that led to a rainbow colored inflatable archway marking the finish. Five miles. Thirty obstacles. What did I know in that moment?  Well a whole lot of things.

I learned I can be afraid of heights and still climb the 8 foot wall followed by the ten foot wall without a rope just a little help from my friends.  It was a good thing that these were the 2nd and 3rd obstacles as it seemed to help me to start with a bit of confidence. Following that I learned I could carry 50 pounds of sand for a quarter mile without a problem. During that quarter mile though I was able to think about having this plus 27 pounds that I was carrying around every single day two years ago. Somehow the bag of sand seemed a bit easier.

I learned I could swing on a rope over a trench filled with mud despite being terrified I would fall in. I also learned said terror was shared with a trusted team member and not only could I do it, she could too. Somehow sharing the fear and conquering it together made for quite a moment. I learned I could scale a muddy riverbank up and down and up and down and my hip would be rock solid. There were larger rope clubs over walls, crawling yards and yards through mud with overhead boards that kept me low enough to emerge with what appeared to be a muddy beard. There were burpees in a mud pit not as penalties, but as part of the course and of course the running, tire flips, climbing over muddy hay bales and running through the woods over and under trees on their sides.  On and on it went. Wet. Muddy. Up. Down.Cimb. Crawl. Mud and the almighty slip and slide.

All at once.  There it was. Right in front of me. Fear in an obstacle. Decades of anxiety wrapped into this one thing. Flashbacks of school yard failure right there. A straight 15 foot iron pipe over a vat of mud and a sign that simply said,"monkey bars". Monkey bars. Wow. I never could do it well. I watched the other kids do it like they were some sort of spider monkey. I put this to rest a long time ago along with the rope climb and conquering the awful mile and a half run in junior high named the Cooper. Yet here it was. Monkey bars. I gripped it three or four times until I actually gave it a try. Terrified of looking silly, old emotion had a great team, and afraid of falling in. Irrational fears. Then I did it. Hand over hand. Fifteen feet across. Not one drop of mud. I stood looking at my son stunned. I said to him more than once,"I did it". He just nodded. Ok he may have thought I lost it at that moment, but that by far was my favorite moment of the day.

So as I passed under the rainbow archway I think I learned no wall is too high with a great team to give me a boost, and I am never too old to conquer longstanding fears and being able to see the freedom that comes as those fears faded away. As I sit nursing my wounds and cleaning the mud out of my ears I know in my heart of hearts every ounce of effort I put in these last two years was absolutely worth it.

In reference to yesterday's comment on the quest for the snapdragon.... my snapdragon has shown up. It is the Tristate Sprint in 2017. Crossing the finish line today reminded me once again the best is yet to come.

Snapdragons

The sun was shining bright today in the upstate New York orchard where I go in September. It was that magical day when I was made aware by said orchard that the honeycrisp apples were ready to be picked. I suppose it was about five years ago when I discovered this magical food. It is the perfect variety of crispness and sourness that I wait all year for. This orchard grows them as big as my head and to be quite honest my fantasies of eating these begin sometime in late July. Yesterday was the day. I took my 5 and 6 year old off the bus and directly to the orchard. I think they must have eaten three apiece while picking them and admittedly I took my job as token adult to be quality control as I sampled some as well. I carefully taught them to look for the ones with some red on them. Watch for worm holes and no. We do not pick them up off the ground and put them in the bag. Only fresh from the tree. Ah yes....my annual quest for the honeycrisp apple was being realized right there in the afternoon sun.

Looking at the wet grass and trees as my 5 and 6 year old wandered around eating apple after apple I began to wonder what my big race would be like. What the finish line would look like or better yet how that would feel. A lifetime of epic fails to be healthy, now 18 months of solid training with time off for the tiny broken hip and surgery....wait. I broke my freaking hip 7.5 months ago and had surgery. Sudden anxiety over that....rattling around thoughts suddenly interrupted by overflowing bags of my coveted honey crisps that two little guys could not lift. This led to serious apple sorting and a drive back to check out.

At the scales I struck up a conversation with the orchard guy. I admitted my honeycrisp addiction and  he assures me I am not alone in this addiction and really at this point there truly was no need for outside help or some sort of honeycrisp support group. As I paid I felt that final sense of accomplishment. Mission accomplished. That is until his parting words to me were,"hey, if you like those you should try our Snapdragons. A hybrid between the honeycrisp and a gala."  As I drove off trying to envision this I was struck by the sudden need for a new apple quest. The snapdragon.....yes. Next time.

In that moment I also realized perhaps I had this race all wrong. I have nothing else on the books definitely for another event. I have been invited to two other events but nothing in stone. I have a feeling I had considered this a final destination of sorts. Cross the finish line. Put a lifetime of fitness failures spanning back to grade school behind me. Beat the odds that were stacked against me after a surgical repair of a hip fracture.  I have a knack of doing that when I reach goals. Complacency.  The curse of the modern adult. This time though just maybe I should finish the race,  God willing, and look for the guy with the snapdragons. I have a feeling that is the guy who sees the best is yet to come.

School?! Again?!

My youngest child is 5 and started kindergarten two weeks ago. This is my happy go lucky, sleep loving hulk of a child at 54 pounds. I guess someone forgot to tell him he came to menstarving from an orphanage.  Nonetheless, here he is. This morning I went into his room at 6:30 for our new normal morning exchange. I wake him up and he says,"why?"  I explain he has school and in a look of absolutely outrage he says,"school?! Again?!"  This leads to the explanation he has school every day and as I explained to some friends earlier I have not had the heart to explain to him this will
Go on for the next 12 years after kindergarten. I am personally now on day six of a particularly hard seven day work stretch. No. My bosses are not masochists, I just needed to squeeze in some time at my moonlighting gig before going out of town. I put him on the bus and stumbled in for a cup of coffee in my favorite mug and began to suddenly understand his emotion.

Through my exhaustion I realized I had the gym scheduled for an hour later. I suddenly had the urge to say "the gym?! Again?!"  I even chuckle to myself as I think about it. I began to think about how many things in life are so important yet seem like such a struggle sometimes.  There is the "work?! Again?!" Or "laundry?! Again?!" I never think twice about making my children do the hard work yet at times have the urge to give up on my own. Giving in to the day to day "agains?!" But ignoring the personal ones. In terms of the gym I began to think about times over the years I did just that. I took the easier road in a moment of exhaustion and lived to regret missing out on the greater things that could have followed.

As for today, my son was meeting me for a workout. That pushed my mama soul to lead by example and not back out. Now I may have required my typical loud music, ok Beastie Boys today, and a few four letter words on my way to the gym through the exhaustion. What the end product of my angry drive and presence at the gym was some pretty fast rowing, conquering the jump squat for the first time since I broke my hip, an all out at my personal best and a really good latte with my adult child. Things I would never have had during a nap. It occurs to me I am pretty lucky my 20 year old seems to like to hang out with his mom sometimes. It also occurs to me one day he will have his own family and not have as much time on his hands like he does now. So I suppose the answer to my earlier question "the gym?! Again?" Is now,"Yes!  The gym. Again. 💗💗💗💗". Beastie Boys motivation notwithstanding. Besides we are four days away from race day.....I know that day I will be glad I did not take a nap this morning.

As for my youngest?  He came bounding off the bus and is now sucking on his frozen gogurt chattering endlessly about recess and friends and story time. Somehow I think he may have changed his mind to "school again💗💗💗💗".

Animal Crackers

"That was the best 3.67 I have spent in a long time. I just wanted to pamper myself". Thus went the text from my daughter the new mother. She also sent a photo of her triumphant purchase: a bag of good old fashioned iced animal crackers. These were the pink and white waxy frosted crackers with the multicolored nonpareils. Yes. These were a childhood favorite of hers cultivated by yours truly. They are a far cry from the clean eating treats I make now. They probably never go bad due to the industrial strength preservatives involved in their making. Nonetheless, through the sea of diapers and sleepless nights somehow these seemed to soothe her new mama soul.

This got me to thinking about my absolute belief in rewarding myself for goals achieved. When I first started losing weight I promised myself an Alex and Ani bracelet for each ten pounds. When I lost the first ten I remember feeling just a bit of disappointment that magically I had not transformed into some sort of supermodel. This is old thinking for any of us who have battled weight. I bought the bracelet that said,"it's not a sprint, it's a marathon". I have found this to be excruciating at times but true nonetheless. The second one was the "living water" bracelet as it reminded me of just who was the living water and who all these hopes and dreams rest on. My third was the Cubs bracelet because after all, every thought does not have to be deep and I am just a Chicago girl living in New York. Along he way there have been other rewards. Things designed to fill the space once occupied by my previous comfort, food. There is my love of a good mani and pedi as well as my constant admiration of my hair dresser who I swear is part magician.

For my daughter her reward of keeping my precious granddaughter alive and well for a whole month came down to animal crackers. Rewards were definitely in order at that point.  If she only knew that her attempt to cling to the comforts of her childhood will soon become staple food, as my Bella grows some more, along with goldfish and juice boxes. I did not have the nerve to tell her one day she will be washing mushy animal crackers out of Bella's hair and really her rewards will change to something a bit more palatable.

My next goal?  I finally for the first time in my life broke a 10 minute mile today. Not too bad considering it was the second mile I ran. The first was 10:10. That was not going to work. Now to shoot for 8 minutes in the next twelve months......my reward?  At the moment that secret is safe with the good people of Amazon....

I Just May Have a Shoe Addiction

I suppose the phone call I got in college from my mother should have been my first clue that I just may have a problem with shoes. She had found a very large bag full of my shoes in my closet. They were shoes from all walks of my high school life. Gym shoes, softball cleats and even my beloved pink converse high tops. As the bag was quite large and I had not lived at home in some time she wondered why I kept this. Did I need it?  What did I plan to do with them?  The answer to question one was probably not, and question two was I had no idea. One thing I was sure of. They would fit. Not like jeans that may become too tight or shirts that would be too small. Shoes never let me down.

The thought of this bag of shoes occurred to me yesterday as I was discussing appropriate race footwear with my son. I explained to him that although his Rosche Runs are well worn and getting muddy and ruined would not break his heart, it was likely safer for him to have obstacle racing shoes like mine. My Reebock orange, pink and yellow high tech trail shoes. I had a discussion about toe picks and mud drainage technology as it relates to climbing over muddy walls. Ultimately we got a similar pair for him ordered.

Nonetheless, this led to me going into the closet for a survey of my shoes. Yes, I realize stereotypical women love shoes. Seeing the Kardashian's closets, OK, my oldest male child is a fan and forces me to watch, I see dozens of pairs of heels by many famous makers such as Jimmy Choo. The reality is, my shoes are a bit different. My life is lived in three types of outfits. Gym clothes, scrubs and jeans. My shoes match accordingly. Looking at the casual collection I see a couple pairs of Sperry's, one pair clearly not fit for much in the outside world but fit my feet so perfectly I think I have convinced myself the newer pair just will never live up to the hype of the old pair. There is the Ugg mocassin. This is my first upstate New York winter shoe. That year we survived inch after inch of snow wondering if we had actually moved to the North Pole. A note on the Ugg moccasin to the various critics.....they have a sole. So technically they are not a slipper. Plus they were the only shoes I could safely get on after my hip surgery as they required no bending at the waist to tie. Then there are the flip flops. This is the place I dare not even quantify how many I have. Some I wear and some I do not. I look at the black pair of croc flip flops that got me all over Haiti for 3.5 weeks when I was bringing Grace and Alex home. I had no other shoes as I got stuck in country at the end and had to send everything home that I could when my husband had to leave to keep my luggage to a minimum knowing I would have two kids in tow on the way home by myself. I have the patent leather blue pumps that matched my dress perfectly for my high school reunion some years back. Then the perfect orange and red staple shoes I wore to a hospital gala.  Yes, I am one to buy the perfect shoe for the perfect dress for a special occasion. I suppose I justify it by telling myself shoes always for no matter what. So if I get the red and orange heeled strappy sandals I will have them in case another awesome dress came along for a different occasion. To be fair I have several pairs of shoes that fall into this category.

This brings me to my collection of Dansko clogs. The hallmark of anyone who works in a hospital. Black, blue, brown and watermarked....each pair representing a different period in my career. Each pair with their own story to tell of lives saved and lives lost and as any emergency medicine person will tell you....given our particular culture each pair screams almost audibly the particular brand of sarcasm we all share in my field.

Then there are gym shoes. Lots and lots of gym shoes. I will say in a general sense I am a Nike girl. Long narrow feet with a high arch make them perfect. Through this journey I have had all kinds. Runners, Frees, custom rosches and currently a hybrid shoe. Each shoe tells a story like a photo album of sorts. Some were rewards to myself for goals met and others purchased out of changing workouts demanding something different. The story of next week's racing shoe probably the best of all. I had wanted to race. I was terrified I could not do it. When I successfully completed the dry tri a year ago I ordered these. Just what I would need for a mud run.  I figured if I invested in the shoe it would push me to get there. Many times I have cursed the shoes. Three months of crutches had made me wonder if this was ever going to happen. During that period it was as if they mocked me. Yet today I dust them off and try them on. As always, shoes did not disappoint. A perfect fit. Here we go....a year later. 7 days to go!.

The Ragtag Team of Awaken

"He is jealous for me, loves like a hurricane, I am a tree....."
Thus is the backdrop for my ride to work as I plug along on the thruway in my giant suburban mom mobile. Anyone who knows me knows I have fairly eclectic musical tastes as it would not be unusual for this David Crowder Christian classic to be followed by some Guns N Roses or even some Ed Sheeran. I suppose at the end of the day it would make me having a bright future as an award winning DJ fairly unlikely.


As the song progresses I find my mind wandering to:  a cooler with ice, some cans of fit aid, kind bars, water, a spare set of clothes, God don't forget that. This goes the ever growing mental checklist for my first five mile mud run next Saturday. I must admit my heart pounds ever so slightly at the thought. I set out to be fit enough to do something like this for 19 months and here I am 9 days away. It is terrifying and exciting at the same time. Nineteen months of work, with six weeks off for an injury. Here it is.

I suppose outside of the obvious, what is unique about this event is that it is something that I actively recruited a team for and helped organize. I have organized lots of stuff before now, well....I do have five children, so just organizing a regular week for me I suppose takes a higher level of organizational skill than people with smaller families. Honestly, at times breakfast is a major production. Nonetheless, here I go with my assembled team for a physical even. At the moment we are a fairly unmatched team of five. I think I am the oldest at nearly 47, my son is the youngest at 20 and there are three others in between, one of whom is a Spartan racer of epic proportions taking on the Ultra Beast at Killington this weekend. (Good luck Juan!). So why are we together?  We represent Awaken Church. The nondenominational church home I attend. Something about this combination of people who came together under this spiritual umbrella has settled my over the top chronic anxiety  over running and this big race to occasional mild palpitations. Besides, having my Spartan racing pal there means he will be strong enough to pull me over the muddy wall if I can't do it myself. As these thoughts occur to me I hear the final line "I don't have time to maintain these regrets when I think about the way He loves me...". Thank you Mister Crowder for that very powerful reminder of such things.

With my mental list done and deep thoughts settled I finally pull into the parking structure of the hospital to hear the next track. Adele "Rolling in the Deep". Oh yes. We will be deep. Deep in mud and in that moment we will almost have it all.....  Let's Go Team Awaken!

Flawsome

Recently, through the miracle of social media I had a friend introduce me to the word "flawsome". The word refers to the ability to embrace the flaws and still be awesome. Today, I had a chance to really put the phrase to good use. You see....I am a grandmother. A fairly new grandmother at that. My daughter had baby Bella almost four weeks ago. My daughter spent some time yesterday talking about how she wished she had been thinner before she got pregnant. She felt if this were the case, the post partum struggle to find her new normal would be easier. It made me think about how often important events happen and we begin to wish for something different that had come first. I think about a particularly difficult 10k I did some years back. In the weeks that followed the event I had ever so many blisters to make we wish I had trained more or well....at all. It is as if tapping the retrospective wish granting virtual fairy godmother would somehow have me wake up healthy and somehow conquer that race like an Olympian.

It occurs to me that the entertainment industry has made a lot of money allowing us to lose ourselves in the fantasy of the fairy godmother or even the genie in a bottle to grant our every wish. These are great escapes but far to often I think we lose ourselves in the notion of wishing for something better or different in our past to account for being somehow less than we think we should be in the present. For me, the constant wishing did absolutely nothing but hold me hostage to the failures and not looking toward where I could be.

The diet industry in a similar fashion has had their share of fairy godmothers and magicians promising a quick fix in a matter of days which is probably what makes a lot of them so attractive. Trust me. I drank the cabbage juice, took the pills, made the shakes and nursed the surgical scars. Nothing actually granted my magical wishes until I found the people who felt I was flawsome even when I was still wishing. These people helped me to see every little gain was to be celebrated until little by little every little change amounted to a huge leap into the place where I now am, almost two years into my journey. Some of these folks are friends. Some are family and some are my beloved trainers who laughed at me when I said "I can't" and held my wishes tight so I could learn to grant them myself.

I explained to my daughter that maybe she was not what she wanted to be in this moment, but she was better than she was yesterday and will be better tomorrow as long as she embraces who she is flaws and all. Then take her wishing and figure out what she can wish for today that is attainable. Apparently that wishful attainable scenario had something to do with wishing to replace cheap diapers as they relate the poop of a breast fed baby and a heck of a lot of laundry. Not being in medicine like me, her exposure to this sort of thing prior to now has been somewhat limited.  She met that goal yesterday and I think this Fairy God Nana may need to help that wish along with a cyber trip to Amazon. As far as her body image goes she has already dropped some of the baby weight and she is mothering like a champ. That is the most flawsome thing I can think of for her today.

As for me, my wish is to have a PR in something every single week. Inching along little by little making slow and steady progress. Like yesterday when a trainer decided he needed to take the class I was in and occupy the treadmill and later the weight station and later the rower next to me.   This was so daunting to try to perform for a member of the team that helped make me what I am today. These people have taught me to be my own genie in a bottle and I was going to show them just what I was now made of. The best news was I did not die or fall off the treadmill as I ran my best all out at 7.5mph. I did not die when I rowed at nearly 400 watts and I did not give myself a concussion doing a 25 pound single arm snatch all PR's for me. In those moments I was free from all those years wasted on wishing and overcome by the notion that the best is yet to come.

A final note to my dearest daughter....may you continue to be flawsome just like the rest of us. Do not give up on what you can be, kiss Nana's baby Bella, tell her I will see her in two weeks and most importantly may the rest of your  day be leaky diaper free.