Token November Post.

I know, I KNOW. I suck at posting.

I miss the days where I’d be driving into work and have an idea and think, Oh, I need to post THAT to my blog!

Right now? I’m listening to David Sedaris on audiobook and I’m mostly struck by what a brilliant writer he is. And by the time I get to work, I have ZERO ideas of my own.

Well, except for the week after the marathon, when I had a hard time controlling my Jello legs on flat ground and I couldn’t believe how comical I looked.

But really, that’s all I wanted to post. Hey, it’s three days after my marathon and holy crap my legs don’t even feel like they’re attached to my body! It’s pretty crazy, people!

I didn’t post it, though.

(You’re welcome.)

Anyway.

So it’s November. And I said that in November I’d write a LOT more.

I have not actually managed to follow through with that resolution. Until today, the only things I’ve written are To Do and grocery shopping lists.

So what have I actually BEEN doing these past few weeks?

Well, the good news is that this November, I’ve been able to run, because I did NOT end up injured at the end of the Baystate Marathon. That’s good, for sure.

However, that does not mean I have been enjoying my runs; apparently trying to actively recover from a marathon by running makes said runs kind of suck. In fact, this past Saturday I actually had a piddly three miler that ended at the halfway point; I did the Walk of Shame home the last 1.5 miles because holy crap my legs could not run ONE MORE STEP.

Recovery: going from completely NAILING a 22 mile run to bonking on a 3 mile run.

Humbling.

The good news, though, is that Saturday’s Walk of Shame was my low point, and my runs have gotten considerably Less Sucky since then. I wouldn’t put them in the category of Good yet, but I’m starting to believe that perhaps running WON’T suck for the rest of my life. Which is really good news.

The other thing I’ve been doing is cooking. Like spending all my time in the kitchen on the weekends sort of cooking.

Last weekend I made my own chicken stock – courtesy of unsmitten kitchen. Then I made homemade cream of celery root soup, courtesy of food network. I made an awesome spanish chicken casserole from November’s edition of Cooking Light. I also made and canned a batch of apple butter to get a head start on the holiday season.

And when it was all done, and I had no more cooking to do, I wandered around my kitchen, looking for something else to cook.

Oh, I have IDEAS.

I have ideas for egg-free banana bread and chocolate chip sour cream bread and I REALLY want to try my hand at making the maple bacon scones my friend Sue brought to my house for brunch one day.

MUST. COOK. ALL. THE. FOODS!

In other news, the other day I happened to notice that my kid seemed to have a second tooth growing BEHIND his baby teeth.

Photographic evidence? Here.

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Cue frantic googling. Because I was prepared for loose teeth and the Tooth Fairy visits and all of that. I was NOT prepared to handle another set of teeth growing in his mouth before the baby ones fell out.  Fortunately, the interwebs came to my rescue.

The technical term for it is called lingually erupting mandibular incisors. It is also referred to as “shark teeth.”

Our dental hygienist confirmed for me today that I do not need to worry about it, because it is common and it’s likely that it will force the baby tooth to become loose and fall out.

There are things I never anticipated I’d have to deal with as a parent. And I’m not sure why, but this extra tooth thing is DEFINITELY one of them.

So that’s what I’ve been up to in November thus far. And now that I’ve popped the proverbial cherry on writing, I AM hoping to post a lot more.

Maybe even once a week! 🙂

Humbled.

The one thing about running?

It can be really humbling.

I learned this during my first 5k, when at mile 2.5 I wasn’t sure I could run another step and I decided to walk for a bit… and then started sprinting, too fast, WAY too early before the finish line and tried not to puke when I FINALLY crossed that damn finish.

I was reminded my first half marathon, where the hill at mile 12 nearly killed me, and I couldn’t hang on, and an older gentleman actually WORKED to get my attention through my haze of disappointment and too-loud music to tell me, I don’t leave anyone behind. Come on – you can DO this.

And then again in October 2011 at the Marine Corps Marathon, when shooting, stabbing pain erupted in my right knee at mile 22.

But. BUT. This training cycle was DIFFERENT.

I had a month of dead legged runs, where I had no speed, but I fought through it, and for the past two months running has felt SO. Damn. GOOD! My longest run – 22 miles – I ended the run with 5 miles of FAST running, and I wanted to scream and dance and do cartwheels, I felt so damn GOOD.

And two week ago, I ran a 1:49:22 half marathon – without a watch. It felt SO good.

So when I lined up at the start of the Baystate Marathon on Sunday morning, I felt ready. Confident. Let’s DO THIS.

For half of the race, I was doing it. I hit the halfway point at 1:51:01.

And then the wheels came off.

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In retrospect, the wheels started to come off earlier than the halfway point. At the 10k mark I probably had my first indication that it wasn’t my day: at that point, my pace felt kind of hard. Not awful – not enough that I was worried – but a niggle. I probably should have listened to it, but I figured: race nerves. Let’s go another mile and see how you feel, Karen.

And the feeling passed.

But then the niggle happened again at mile 8. A TOUCH longer this time. Again, not so much that I really worried about it. Just a touch of “hard.”

And then again, at mile 11. And that’s where I started to listen.

Okay, not going to be my day. Dial back a bit – let’s NOT push it.  Slow it down, see what happens.

And then I hit the halfway point, and the only word in my head was “terrible.”

I felt terrible.

From there it was a battle. Awful, tough, hard battle. I walked. A lot. Mentally I tried to let go of the disappointment that I had to walk and I tried to figure out how to salvage the race.

I had a lot of time to think about it, as it turns out. The second half of the marathon I ran in 2:18:13. It actually felt like eons. Ages. YEARS I spent running and walking and trying to dredge up the energy and will and mental strength to keep going.

I finished, with the help of two of my friends which I will forever be indebted to, in 4:09:14. Thankfully I was uninjured. Exhausted. Depleted. Sore. But not hurt.

And the race I ran that day was a far cry from the 3:40 I have spent the past YEAR training for.

What a humbling experience.

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I came away from the race with renewed respect for the distance. Seriously, 26.2 ain’t no drop in the bucket. When something goes wrong in a marathon, holy shit it can go REALLY wrong.

But I also came away from it with a sense of thankfulness.

I love running. For me, it’s a physical, mental, and emotional release I can’t really get anywhere else. It’s a place I can feed the OCD which makes me want to get to round mileage numbers. It’s where hard work and smart training creates progress, where I can actually SEE the fruits of my efforts with real, concrete numbers.

I loved training for this marathon. And I want to do it again.

So I’m thinking for 2014 I’ll add two of them to my calendar: the Vermont City Marathon in May, and the Baystate Marathon again next fall.

“If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. Then quit. There’s no point in being a damn fool about it.” – W. C. Fields

Liebster Award

Good grief, it’s been too long since I wrote last. Too many work hours, too little sleep, lots of running and juggling and tasks and stress in between.

My marathon is Sunday, and I have a goal to write every day – either here or in my journal – in November. So hopefully you’ll hear from me soon.

In the meantime,  I need to start somewhere – I feel like the spigots of my writing ideas has rusted shut. I need to wrest them open and let the words flow to clean it all out.

And luckily, my good friend Mel nominated me for a Liebster Award. So here are my responses. And there will be something of substance soon – at the very least, a race write up. 🙂

Longest you’ve ever gone without a shower.
I generally don’t go very long between showers; I hate the feeling of being gross and greasy and oily. And add the running into the mix – it’s not really that great for me to go without a shower.

I used to backpack, though – many many moons ago. I think I went for a 5 day trip where I didn’t shower, though I did bring wet naps I used to freshen up here on a daily basis.

Tell us about a recent disappointment.

I had intended on taking the latter half of September and all of October off of work. To that end, I spent three weeks working every day. I pretty much did nothing BUT work. I was looking forward to my time off, catching up on sleep, spending quality time with Owen and Jeff, cooking, organizing, etc.

But the woman for whom I worked called me – on a day where my alarm rang at 3:51 so I could be at work at 5am – and said she had another client who needed me right away, and I wouldn’t be able to take time off.

And instead of saying no, I agreed to it.

I cannot tell you how disappointed I was in myself. Balance will not come by itself, it takes work. And the ability to say no.

And I, apparently, cannot say no to more work.

Tell us the person you’d most like in the car with you for a road trip.

You know, I don’t know. My favorite traveling companion is Jeff, but we don’t do a lot of car trips. Overseas, flights, exploring cities by foot – that’s what we do really well together.

A roadtrip, I think, is different. Jeff and I are similar in that we value efficiency, and on a roadtrip some of the best moments and experiences is when you DON’T follow the interstate – veer off here and there.

So I think I’d pick one of my best girlfriends for a roadtrip. We’d go off the beaten path just so we can eat at a hole in the wall diner which has amazing burgers. We’d stop to take pictures at kitschy road stand, and sing at the top of our lungs. It would be fun.

Which do you like better: goats or sheep?

Goats freak me out. They eat ANYTHING. They will head butt you at a moment’s notice.

Sheep, on the other hand, are fuzzy and chill. They’re like wooly cows – will just stand there and look at you. And really, is there anything cuter then a lamb?

Do you like to watch scary movies?

Hell no. I was the kid that had nightmares from ET. (In my defense, the people in the suits were scary!!) Gremlins terrified me.  The Blair Witch Project made me motion sick, but despite the fact that I never actually WATCHED the entirety of the movie because it was going to make me puke, the next camping trip I was terrified the Blair Witch was going to show up.

The most recent – within the past decade, that is – scary movie I watched was The Ring. Not only did it give me nightmares for weeks, even nearly TEN FREAKING YEARS LATER I CANNOT SEE A CAPPED WELL WITHOUT FREAKING OUT.

And no, I’m not kidding.

But I’m also the chick that won’t go into my basement at night because that’s where the bogeyman lives. 🙂

What do you call yourself when you’re talking to yourself inside your head?

Depends on my mood, but in all honesty I am not very nice to myself inside my head.

If I’m pissed off, the Inner Critic will call me a moron, or an idiot. As in “seriously, you did WHAT? Are you a complete moron?”

If I’m in a good mood, I’ll often refer myself as bitch. As in, “Come on, bitch – get this mile. You GOT this!”

Name someone from your kindergarten class that you wonder about to this day.

I went to a catholic school for kindergarten, since I missed the cutoff in the public schools.

And in Ms Gabriel’s kindergarten class, I got married to a boy named Donald. I don’t remember much about him other than his name and the fact that we shared a table just the two of us while the other kids sat 3-4 kids per table. I think that’s why we got married, because we sat together. And therefore, our marriage was short lived, because I transferred to the public school for first grade.

Anyway, I wonder about him now. I have no visual of him, and I am always curious as to what he’s up to.

What is the best song for picking up your mood?

Right now it’s Mahler’s fourth symphony. I cannot tell you how good it is for calming anxiety and stress, how well it works to help me BREATHE.

But if I need a good, pump me up song, ANYTHING by Mumford and Sons makes me happy.

How do you organize your socks?

Running socks are placed flat together. My compression running socks are folded once over. They both go in my running clothes drawer (yes, I have a whole drawer of running-only clothes). Other socks are nested together in a separate drawer which includes my belts and trouser socks too.

When no one is home, do you close the bathroom door?

I don’t actually close doors in my house. The only exception is Owen’s door when he’s in bed for the night. We sleep with the door open, I usually have the bathroom door open whenever I’m in there – unless it’s winter and I’m showering, because opening the door makes the room frigid when I get out.

So it’s safe to say if no one’s home I don’t bother closing the bathroom doors.

Well, unless I’m showering and it’s cold. I need my hot hot hot shower. 🙂

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The rules are that I should tag another blogger and ask them 10 questions.  But I’m a rule breaker. Instead, put a comment below and answer one of the above questions yourself! 🙂

Marathon Training, Take Two.

Training for my second marathon has been both very different AND very much the same as last time.

The differences are pretty, well, different.

In 2011, what got me out of bed in the morning to run my miles was Abject Fear. I spent most of my training cycle terrified of the distance. How was I going to run 26.2 miles? That seemed really, REALLY long. Terrifyingly long. I wasn’t sure I could do it – even the morning of the race I questioned my ability.

And then I did it. And it wasn’t easy, and it hurt me, but I ran the distance. And now? Well, that distance isn’t terrifying. I know it’s going to be hard. But I also know I can do it.

Two years ago, after a long run, I felt a HELL of a lot more beat up than I do now. That part was the worst part of marathon training for me. I’d finish a long run completely depleted. The last couple of miles I’d walk more than I ran. There were some runs where I just couldn’t get the mileage I needed – had nothing in the tank.

I don’t feel that way now.

Like a couple weekends ago. I ran 18 miles. And when I finished, I felt GOOD. Starving, mind you (more about THAT in a minute!). But once I ate, I felt kind of normal. No more tired than usual, no more sore than usual.

The difference, I think, is related to two big things: Mileage consistency and better fueling.  I have spent most of the year running 30 miles a week – a consistent mileage base. I also have two more years of running experience. Running is cumulative – the more you do it the better you get at it.

And I have FINALLY found a fueling strategy that really works for me – 3 or 4 sport jellybeans every half hour. This allows a consistent energy source without being too much sugar in my stomach (which gives me digestive issues). And hydration, too – I have discovered that the 32 ounces I carry just isn’t enough. I need to refill every bottle at least once during the run so that I am not too dehydrated at the end.

I am feeling SO good about where I am, fitness-wise, this time around. It’s SO nice in a place where I get out of bed for a run because I want to, not because I’m terrified that if I don’t get my miles in I’ll post a DNF*.

That said?

There are a lot similarities about this training cycle and my last marathon training which I want to document. In part so I can look at this when I’m done with the race and remember, REALLY, how it is.

Because it’s not easy, either – especially at this point in my training.

First of all, I have spent the last month running on Dead Legs. That’s what I call it – tiredness, fatigue, whatever. Dead Leg runs are the ones where you don’t really love the run, physically, and you’re too focused on turning your legs over to get into any sort of emotional zone.  I had two speedwork sessions where I barely got through the workout – one where I was in tears after the second repeat, then another I cut short.

I am finally starting to come out of it; this week in particular I’ve had fewer Dead Leg runs, thank goodness. But I still don’t feel like I’m RESTED, not really.

It’s the nature of the beast. Running distance is, at some level, teaching your body to deal with fatigue and cope with discomfort. It teaches your body to run more efficiently, to recover whenever it can – and it teaches your mind to get through the last 10k of a marathon, when you are tired and sore and still have at least another 45 minutes of running in front of you.

And I keep this in mind with every Dead Leg run; the more practice I have running on tired legs, the better prepared I’ll be on race day.

But man.  I miss my old legs – the ones that had spark in them. I’ve logged so many Dead Leg runs that I’m getting tired of repeating the same old story: Good practice today running on tired legs. This will serve me well on marathon day.

I miss running fast, feeling light and energetic. I miss it a LOT.

The good news, from what I hear, is that a good taper strategy will get me back to my light and energetic legs – hopefully exactly the day I need it – October 20.

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The biggest similarity, which I need to share:

I am hungry.

Ravenous.

Starving.

There’s a voice in my brain – a real Neanderthal – who keeps screaming: FOOOOOOOOOOD. FOOD! FOOD! FOOOOOOOOOD!

I have spent the better part of the past year keeping diligent track of my food intake; have gotten to a weight which is more or less maintainable for me. I have a repertoire of snacks and dinners where I don’t have to THINK so much about what I eat; I just eat my regular food and it’s fine.

Except, now, it’s not fine. I’m HUNGRY. I need bigger portions, more carbs, more protein. I need to eat.

And it’s a fine balance between listening to my body – the one I need to fuel for my runs – and going overboard, because, hell, I’m running 20 miles this weekend so of COURSE I can eat that pizza and drink beer. And the chocolate and apple crisp and caramels and ice cream…

FOOOOOOOOD! FOOD! FOOD! FOOOOOOOOOOD!

Also the same: I’m tired. Like bone-weary tired. Dog tired. By the end of the day, inertia traps me and I want to go to bed, but it means getting up and walking upstairs and brushing my teeth, and it’s just SO nice to lay here on the couch and just rest. My brain thinks: MOVE, Karen!

But my body replies HELL NO.

Part of it is that work is busy too, and I’m sneaking runs in here and there. This week, I ran 3 (incredibly stressful while I imagined Owen drowning and no one noticing) miles on the treadmill during Owen’s swim lesson, and my alarm rang at 4:30 this morning so I could fit in an 8 mile run before I went to my client in Boston.

But mostly it’s because running is, well, a lot of work, physically. (Which, you know, DUH, of course, right? It shouldn’t be a surprise that I’m tired a lot.) But it’s something worth mentioning.

Because this isn’t my  usual brand of tired.

All in all, though, I am feeling pretty good about my training and where I am right now.  I feel like I will be as prepared as I can be in 5 weeks.

Which is really all I can ask for.

*For my non-runner readers, a DNF is “Did Not Finish.” It’s where you start a race and then bag it in the middle or the end or whatever. I’ve come close to doing this – as recently as a year ago, when I sprained my ankle at the start of a half marathon with one of my best friends – but have yet to DNF. And I prefer to keep it that way.

Nostalgia.

Owen was born via c-section; he was breech. And if I’m being truthful, I was happy with the idea of a c-section; after years of infertility I was terrified that my body would screw up in childbirth, and the idea of a procedure where doctors could have him out of me within minutes gave me a lot of relief.

I didn’t really expect to HAVE a baby, you see. I had convinced myself that something was going to happen to him while I was pregnant and we were going to end up empty-handed.

So when they handed my newborn to me, I was a little unprepared. For everything, really. Nursing, care, etc. I spent his first few days fretting about how much he slept – normal for a baby who was nearly three weeks early – and how little he ate. Shouldn’t he want to feed?

And then there was the whole learning how to feed him thing. I’ll spare you the details, but suffice it to say, I relied heavily on nurses and lactation consultants in those days after he was born.

Recovering from a c-section is tough: there’s not a lot of positions you can sleep or sit in that’s comfortable. So I was having a tough go of it finding a position where I could nurse my new son comfortably.

And then, one of the night nurses showed me a position where I was able to lay down on my side, a pillow under my leg, with my son laying next to me. It was perfect: not only could I feed him easily from this position, but if I was tired, I could sleep AND feed without too much worry.

It was maybe the third night in the hospital (we got 5 when all was said and done, since he was born in the evening) when Owen woke up for a bit. Since he was awake, I thought, Woo hoo! Let’s do this feeding thing! and I set us both up: me on my side, pillow under my outstretched leg, him on his side, facing me.

He wasn’t interested in eating though – he just stared up at me, like he had known me forever. It was a moment I’ll never forget; his dark eyes looking straight at me as I talked to him.

And in the weeks to come, when I was overwhelmed with sleep deprivation and his fussiness and sleep issues and feeding schedule, when I felt like a fraud and a fake as a mother, that moment – the one where he knew me – was the one that grounded me.

It was the start of our bond, you see.

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The past two days have been rough ones; I have more work to do than I have time for. I am in heavy mileage for marathon training, and I am sneaking runs in. I am stressed out and tired, and stealing time for work and running. I worked late on Monday night and then again last night, stealing time at 8pm for a run along the Charles. And I missed bedtime both nights.

Tonight, though, I was home for his bedtime.

We always lay down next to Owen on his bed when we read stories. And we’ll generally lay with him for a few minutes once we turn out the light. Usually he’s talking; asking questions and talking about his day and coming up with stories. I can’t tell you how many times a night I have to tell him that it’s time for sleeping, that we can talk more in the morning, that it’s time to rest and close his eyes.

Tonight, though, he was tired from a long day of kindergarten, his after school program, and then swim lessons tonight. So when I turned off the light, I came back to the bed and lay down on my side, my head propped on his pillow, facing him.

He rolled towards me, cradling Bear, and tucked his hands and head into my neck. I wrapped my arms around him and he closed his eyes; he was asleep within minutes.

I had a sudden memory of that night in the hospital; his dark eyes staring up at me, the weight of him so very slight in my arms.

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He announced that he learned a new song today, at school. Putting his hands behind his back, he sang, Trick or Treat! Smell my feet! Give me something good to eat! If you don’t, I don’t care, I’ll pull down your underwear!

He won’t let me help buckle him into his booster seat anymore – OR unbuckle himself. He does it himself now.

Since starting kindergarten, when he wakes up in the morning, he gets himself dressed before he comes downstairs.

He gets on the bus confidently, saying good morning! to his bus driver, then sits and waves at me through the window.

At swim class, he jumps in without hesitation. He swims underwater as much as he can; showing off for me, for his teachers.

He rides his bike as fast as he can, puts his own helmet on himself, and warns me as he’s riding to Stay on the sidewalk, Mommy! It’s not safe to walk in the road!

He has learned the pledge of allegiance for school and practices it as much as possible.

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I remember the day he was born as if it were, in fact, yesterday. I remember what I was wearing; the feel of the spring air, still cold, but warming in the sun. I remember the full moon that rose outside our hospital window. How light he was in the carseat when we were finally on our way home; how it felt like there was nothing in there. The incredulity I felt that we were actually leaving the hospital with a real, live baby – OUR baby. Our son.

I love the age where he is at now; love his curiosity and sports-mindedness and imagination. I can’t WAIT for him to learn how to read and write and do math. I very much look forward to watching him grow and change; I look forward to watching him turn into the man he will be someday.

It’s just that I can’t wrap my brain around the flow of time. I blinked, and the slight weight of my infant in my arms turned into this boy, this kindergartener. And I’m going to blink again and it’s going to be this teenager, then Jeff and I will be dancing at his wedding.

So, yeah. Tonight I’m feeling nostalgic. For the teeny baby of mine.

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Who is no longer a baby.

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The Bonk.

The Bonk: /n/ That moment during a run where you don’t think you can take another step, much less finish out the mileage you have planned.
Bonk: /v/ to hit an invisible but very physical threshold during a run that robs you of all confidence in future runs.*

I Bonked last night during my track practice.

The past week has been kind of hellish. The combination of crazy-work-deadline stress plus holy-shit-my-kid-is-going-to-kindergarten stress plus get-my-miles-in-because-I’m-marathon-training stress plus some other low-level stresses has given me trouble with insomnia.

Insomnia is bad in general. But it’s REALLY bad when you are running 45 miles a week. And working to meet a deadline. And getting your kid ready for kindergarten.

But. Last night. The workout was a ladder – 400, 800, mile, 1.5 mile, mile, 800. Which is a tough one.

And within the first 400, I had doubts. In the first 800, I had serious doubts.

And within the first lap of the mile, I had this panicky feeling in my chest.

I can’t do this.

I had NOTHING. No energy. No zip. Nothing.

It was like running in a nightmare, where you feel you’re in quicksand and you have dead legs like they’re not even attached, or alive, and you need to get away but you can’t go anywhere.

So I stopped. In the first mile. I actually laid down on the grass, and when someone else ran by and asked if I was okay, I gave her a thumbs up – I wasn’t injured, I was as okay as I was going to be. I was just trying not to cry from exhaustion.

I got up and tried again. I stopped.

And this time, I gave into tears.

I was just so tired. I had nothing to give, no kick, no reserves. I figured I’d just quit and call it a night.

And then a running friend, who was struggling herself, gave me most practical advice and got me to keep going. Karen, she said, you’re not going to win any money in the marathon! No one but you cares how fast you go. So just run slower. Pick a slower pace and run that. You are putting way too much pressure on yourself.

She was so right.

It’s funny how I didn’t even NOTICE. Work has picked up. My testing is going slower than I’d like and so I’m working more hours than I expected. My mileage has picked up too, so I have to spend more time in my day running. Owen is going to kindergarten, and I’m trying to prepare him (and me!) for the changes, and trying to do special things for and with him to celebrate this milestone.

All along, I’ve been putting more and more pressure on myself to be better. A great, productive, effective worker. A great, loving, kind mom, who takes time out of her day to make her son feel special. A better runner who nails every one of her workouts. All with a sleep deficit.

Okay, so maybe I need to let go.

So I did.

Thanks to my running club friend, I finished the workout. The mile and a half repeat was a beast, even with the slower pace. The next mile sucked too. But then it was the last 800 – the last repeat. And when I rounded the corner near the finish, with maybe 200m to go, I found some spark in my legs, and I pushed to the end.

I am doing the best I can.

I am doing the best I can.

I am doing the best I can.

And you know what?

That’s more than enough.

 

*yes, these are made up definitions. Why do you ask?

One Week.

Dear Owen:

One week from today, you’re going to climb up the stairs onto the big yellow school bus and head to your first day of kindergarten.

I am so excited to start this journey with you.

In kindergarten, you’re going to learn that the letters you know make words. And you’ll learn how to decipher those words into meaning.

All of a sudden, the world is going to open up to you: the world is full of letters and words and meanings.

In kindergarten, you’re going to learn how to make new friends; maybe the same ones you’ve been friends with since you were 6 months old, but maybe new friends, too. Like the boy up the road who will be at the bus stop with us every day.

Or maybe even a GIRL; you can be friends with girls, too, did you know that?

In kindergarten, you’re going to learn how to remember your schedule; the days you need to take the bus home and the days you’ll stay at school until your daddy or I pick you up.

Don’t worry – I have a plan to help you keep track, thanks to our next door neighbor. Just check your lunchbox every day: the magnet with the picture of our house means you get to take the bus home. The magnet with the picture of school means you are staying there until we pick you up.

In kindergarten, you begin what I hope will be a love of learning for the rest of your life.

There are so many things I hope for you.

I hope you fall in love with learning like your daddy and I did.

I hope your teacher recognizes your deep curiosity of the world and helps us foster it.

I hope you stay safe.

I hope you make friends easily, and play fun games at recess, and jump and run and get dirty.

I hope your father and I can ease these next few weeks of transition for you to make it easier.

I hope that you want to share your day with us at dinner, telling us stories about your day and what you’ve learned.

I hope you know how proud of you I am, how excited I am to start this next chapter of your life, and how much I love you.

And I hope you know that when I blink back tears as I wave goodbye to you as you board that bus, it’s because I’m happy. A little sad, too – when you’re a parent, it’s sometimes hard to let go. Not very long ago, you were so little and vulnerable and helpless.

But I know you’re ready, and you’re going to rock kindergarten.

Love always,

Mommy