Q&A Thursday: Fitting in Exercise

Today's question is from Shannon:

When do you find time to work out? We have 4 kids and swear they hear the treadmill turn on and everyone needs something right now!

Shannon, I hear you! I have four preschoolers right now and it's hard enough keeping up with the house and the laundry and things that can more easily be interrupted, much less try to exercise for a decent amount of time.

My favorite time to exercise is first thing in the morning. Get it done and out of the way, shower away the sweat, and then move on. Unfortunately, that's not a time that works for me very often. When I'm already waking at night with a baby, I just cannot force myself out of bed any earlier than our 6:45 family scripture study time. Over the years, I've tried -- I keep thinking that I just need more will-power or dedication! But no matter how much dedication or will-power I throw at it, unless I'm sleeping soundly through the night, I can't wake up early.

Last year at this time, I found the best time for me to exercise was during quiet time and naptime. My kids were used to my unavailability during that time since I had been using it to nap (Katie didn't sleep through the night until about ten months old). Once Katie was sleeping well, it was so easy to use that time for exercise -- and it didn't even feel like a sacrifice because those hours were gifts I hadn't had before. My husband works from home about half the time so if he was home, I got to run out on the streets. When he wasn't home, I used the treadmill.

When summertime came, I was pregnant so those afternoon hours were needed again for rest. It was also too hot in the afternoon for outdoor running. I moved my exercise time to the morning and got it in before the kids woke up.

Right now, mornings are out because Cami's waking at night and afternoons are out for the same reason. So I go in the evening. I shoot for 8:00. All the little kids are in bed by then and the house should be calm (but not always -- sometimes I feel like I'm abandoning a sinking ship when I leave to meet my running partner). Other nights, I go at 9 or even 9:30. One night, I even went at 10:30 because that's what time it was when I finally got the laundry folded and Cami settled down. It's not ideal, but it's working. Late evenings are when my family needs me least, so that's when I go.

Three things are really helping me stick to it:

1. I don't skip any days except Sundays. I've made a commitment to do at least fifteen minutes a day. I find the hardest part is just getting started. Knowing all I "have" to do is fifteen minutes helps me get going. Once I'm out running or walking or doing a video, I usually do more than fifteen minutes.

2. I've found it motivating to have an event on the calendar. I know if I don't get in the training, I won't be ready. And I hate wasting money, so once I've paid for something, I want to make sure I get my money's worth out of it.

3. I have an awesome running partner this time. We can't do all our runs together, but we're meeting often enough to keep each other motivated. And a good hour's conversation means I hardly notice my protesting muscles.

What have you done to make exercise a priority? When do you fit it in? How do you make it work with young kids?

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Numbers

2nd trimester . . . that's what I'm wishing I'd enjoyed a little more. Now that I have just three months to go, I'm feeling the exhaustion of pregnancy keenly. I'm trying to be upbeat and positive and remind myself what a blessing this little girl is, but frankly, I'm tired of being pregnant. I'm tired of being tired. I'm tired of needing naps in the afternoon because I can't sleep soundly at night. I long for days when I have abundant energy and I don't have to carefully choose my activities so I don't exhaust myself too soon. I'm tired of putting off projects for that elusive "someday" when I somehow find more energy. I'm tired of feeling awkward and knowing it's only going to get worse. I'm tired of feeling like a wimp because all I do for exercise now is walk on the treadmill.

But at the same time, I am thankful that this is what I've chosen. I've freely chosen to make sacrifices in other areas of my life so I can bear and nurture my children. I've chosen to allow this child to enter our lives, knowing (probably better than most women!) just how uncomfortable, exhausting and inconvenient it would be. I've done so with faith that the blessings of a happy family and a posterity who love each other and try to do good in the world will be worth all I can give it.

A family is a long-term investment. It takes patience and faith to daily fill its needs, with hope that the future will be rich. It's like regularly placing money into a savings account. It takes discipline to give up the things you want and desire now in order to put that money aside and especially in the early years, that account seems to grow agonizingly slow. But because of compounding interest, over time, it will grow into something amazingly abundant.

We knew a man once who took pride in his "continuing education" which consisted mostly of attending one "get-rich-quick" presentation after another. He didn't have the patience for the self-restraint and the regular deposits that would have made him wealthy over a long period of time. He wanted his results fast and there were plenty of people willing to teach him how to do it. As a result, though he was well along in life, he was no closer to being wealthy than he had been when he was young. If he'd spent the years he'd wasted looking for shortcuts simply putting aside a little bit here and there, he'd have had his wealth and the lessons learned from a life of patience.

Similarly, there are so many voices in the world that will tell women about the quick way to happiness and fulfillment. Most of them involve self-absorption, fulfillment, and following dreams. A career, recognition from peers, a lot of money, prestige, plenty of leisure time to vacation, hobbies -- those are the means to a happy life. Sacrificing yourself to build a family? Using your body to create life? Not very important. A young woman is allowed to want to be a teacher, a doctor, an astronaut, but have her tell her class that someday, she wants to be a mother, and you'll find a stunned silence.

10.5 weeks . . . that's how long it's been since my marathon. It feels like years. I feel a bit let down that I haven't been able to continue the full-out physical effort it took to get to that point in my life, first because I had to let my knee heal and then because life and pregnancy have interfered with my lofty intentions. It's been interesting that after reaching that huge milestone, I have had a hard time reminding myself that walking regularly is still a good form of exercise! Sure, it's not what I was doing in the summer, but it's enough for this season of my life.

5 years . . . that's how long we've lived here, in the "dream house" I designed myself and we built, mostly on faith. I love this message about the different ways revelation comes into our lives. Some experiences with revelation, says Elder Bednar, are like a light turning on in a dark room. We are immediately illuminated and we know what we are to do. Other experiences, and more commonly, are like the sun rising slowly, gradually filling our world with light and understanding. Most of my experiences have been the second, but I have had moments of the absolute knowledge that comes with the first kind of revelation. One such moment for me, was the day six years ago when I had an overwhelming impression that we needed to buy the lot that our current home is built on. It was a miracle we even got the lot, since it wasn't even for sale the day I felt we should buy it. It appeared on the MLS three days later and within a week, we'd had our offer accepted. Within two weeks, there two back-up offers.

It really made no sense to build our final dream home at that period in our lives. My husband had only just started his career, and the money he made fluctuated greatly from month to month. He was very busy with his career and we had five small children to care for. But we prayed often and plunged into the exciting and overwhelming world of building. Interestingly enough, we've been amazed at the timing of it all. Not only did we build just at the right time to secure our lot, we also bought the lot $100,000 cheaper than similar lots went for at the height of the housing bubble just a year later. Because we started building before the bubble burst, we were able to secure advantageous financing on generous terms.

I designed our house with a large family in mind, wanting to balance the needs of the future with the practicalities of today. We cut frills where-ever we could, both in the design of the home and in it's finishing. We wanted a nice, easy-to-maintain home with just the basics. But we also wanted it big enough for the size our family would grow to and have enough space for large family gatherings. We've felt blessed to have the space for our family and have tried to be generous in opening our home to others. I know that most large families make do with much smaller spaces, and while I try never to think that we need this much space, it sure is nice to have.

We've been blessed with good neighbors. We've been blessed that our kids are able to walk to a quality school nearby. We've been blessed to have a large backyard for the kids to romp and play in.

I mean really, with this in the backyard, is it any wonder that I love living here?

34 . . . that's how old I'll be this week on my birthday. A few weeks ago, I felt young. Now, with the exhaustion of the pregnancy and the date of the birthday approaching, I'm feeling older. As a gift to myself, I set a goal to get on the treadmill for at least twenty minutes every day this week. Yesterday, I ran intervals, but it was quite uncomfortable and I ended with my back aching for the rest of the day (Did I mention I'm tired of being pregnant?). I think I'll stick to walking from here on out and forget feeling guilty about it.

I don't feel any regrets about getting older. I'm amazed when I consider all that I've been able to fit into those 34 years. I'm happy with the way I've used my time and energy and that some of the toughest years of parenting are behind me.

Despite the irritations of pregnancy, I'm in the best shape I've been in my adult life. I lost 35 lbs this year and ran a marathon. Those are pretty awesome accomplishments and I'm grateful for the difference that has made in my ability to keep up with the myriad demands on my life.

I've grown a lot in my 34 years. I'm less judgmental and more charitable than I've been in the past. I'm more forgiving of myself. I'm better at discerning where to put my efforts on a daily basis. I'm more confident in my choices and less worried about what others think.

I'm grateful for my husband and that our marriage has been strong enough to withstand all the stress we put on it. I'm thankful he is willing to work hard to support us and that he adores his family.

I'm thankful for two crazy boys. So close in age and yet so amazingly different in looks and personality!

I'm thankful to have so many girls in my life. I hope I can be the kind of example they need.

I'm incredibly blessed to see my older children turning into responsible, thoughtful, enjoyable people that I love spending time with. I love having little ones who adore me and tell me I'm the best mom in the whole world. I love having my life filled with amazing little people and I'm grateful for the prospect of meeting and welcoming another one.

Happy Birthday to me!

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Why I run

"Hey, I wanted to tell you I'm really proud of you," said my elderly neighbor the day after my half-marathon run. "You've done a great job with your running and your weight loss," he continued. "But I wanted to ask why you are trying to run a marathon?"

"Well, the biggest reason is that we know there are more children and I've got to be healthy and strong enough to be able to handle pregnancy and keep up with all the kids I've got. I also need a goal to keep me motivated."

"Well," he said, "there's two ways to look at fitness, you know. You can train to be fit, or you can try to run a marathon just to say you've run a marathon." He then warned me about pushing too hard and crashing, with the clear message that he thought training for a marathon wasn't very smart.

The conversation ended soon after, but his advice, though a bit unwelcome, made me consider again all the reasons I'm doing this. I don't think ego is one of them (though you're free to disagree if you like!). I've never been particularly impressed by other people's running. I just figured there are some people who can run, and then, well, there's me. I'm not a runner and if you had told me three years ago I would run a half-marathon and then train for a full, I would have laughed in your face. I didn't run then, and I thought it was just something that wasn't really possible for me, much less something I'd enjoy.

And then, two years ago, something changed. I began to run, a little bit at a time until I could run a mile without stopping, then two, and then three. I ran a 5K during the worst part of my last pregnancy and kept running at shorter distances until I was about six months along.

But I still didn't enjoy the running. It was something I was doing for fitness and for exercise, but not because I looked forward to it. In January, with Katie finally sleeping a little better, I knew I needed to do something to get back in shape before the rest of our kids arrive. I planned to run a half marathon on June 11 and began training for a 10K in March (which I wasn't able to run in because my treadmill broke a month before the race).

My reasons for running have changed a lot in the past six months. When I started in January, they were primarily two-fold:

1. lose weight.
2. get back in shape.

But as the months have passed and I've continued to run, my goals have started to change. I'm not running primarily for weight loss anymore, though it sure is nice that it's part of the package! About eight weeks into my training for the half marathon, I actually began to enjoy some of my runs. It felt amazing to go a little farther in the long run each week, and from that point on, I never had a long run that I didn't love. Yes, strange as it may seem, "love" and "running" started to together in my mind.

That's not to say I've loved every run. Some have been really tough. I've felt sluggish and slow and weak sometimes. Ironically, it's the shorter runs that give me the most trouble sometimes, and certain times of the month are harder than others. I'll get out for three miles and loathe it, asking myself, "How come it's so hard to go three miles when I went eight (or ten or twelve) miles just last week? Shouldn't this be getting easier?"

But it is getting easier. I avoided hills the first few months of my training, but now, I look forward to tackling them. I used to scoff at the guidelines for running -- you are working at an appropriate level if you can carry on a conversation -- What? Really? Some people can talk and run at the same time? Impossible!

But now, I can do that. I can keep up a conversation throughout both short and long runs. Last week's 10.5 miles was run with a new friend and while we huffed our way a bit through some tough hills, we also had a great two-hour conversation.

I decided as I ran further and further that I would need one more race to keep my motivation up through the summer, so I added the Hobble Creek Half Marathon to my schedule in August.

But still, up until the night I signed up for the St. George marathon lottery, I never really thought I was "marathon" material. I comforted myself with the thought that I probably wouldn't get in anyway, and I panicked a little with the thought that maybe I'd be pregnant by then and not able to run. But DH was supportive and we decided that even if something interfered with the marathon, like an injury or a pregnancy, the worst that could happen is that I'd lose the entry fee. And the best that could happen is that I run a marathon, lose the rest of the weight, and gain all the benefits from the training along the way. Pretty good trade-offs.

So now, if I were to articulate the reasons I'm training for a marathon, they'd go something like this:

1. Running has taught me some amazing life lessons (blog post to follow).
2. I think, just maybe, I might love to run.
   
3. I know I love to run long distances.
4. I still have thirty pounds to lose (though I'm down 33 now!)
5. I'm starting to think that maybe I really can do this.
6. I love running in races and it doesn't bother me that I'm at the back of the pack -- there's just more people to encourage back there! It feels great to accomplish something and to cheer on all the others who have made an effort to be there.
   
7. I'm turning something that was a weakness into a strength, and I'm learning something about myself and my capacities in the process.
8. I love how great I feel after any run longer than four miles.
9. I love that I can come home from even a long 10-mile run and carry on the rest of the day as if nothing unusual has happened. It doesn't wear me out or take away from my family.
10. Raising a large family takes an enormous amount of energy and dedication, just like running a marathon. If I can gain the strength and push through the trials of running to reach my goal, then I'm so much better prepared for the marathon which is my life.
11. I want to be fit enough so that I can quickly rebound from the challenges of pregnancy, particularly as I get older (I'm 33 now). I want to get strong enough so that it's easy to get back into running after the necessary breaks I will take on behalf of my unborn children.
    
12. I want to set a good example of fitness and goal-setting for my kids.
13. I want to become a life-long runner, with the fitness to play basketball with my teenagers, and the energy to keep up with the possibly-huge number of grandchildren I might enjoy.

(by the way, I don't really run with my arms up high like that -- I was just hamming in front of the camera.)

Ultimately, I don't think running a marathon "just to say I've run a marathon" enters into the equation. I'm going into this prepared to adjust my expectations and my goals if life brings me the unexpected, and I'm being careful to train at a level I can sustain without injury. I know a bit about interrupted goals, and if I get pregnant sooner than I expect, I can either adjust my plans for the marathon or put it off a few years.

So, thanks for the advice, my friend. I understand the risks of pushing too hard and I will be careful. But still, I'm headed for that finish line, even if it doesn't happen on October 1st.

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Utah Valley Half Marathon

I modified my race shirt. Just a bit. Do you like it?
I'm sure you've been dying to hear how the race went, right? I know some of you will want to know every detail and the rest would rather have the short version. So, here are three versions for your reading pleasure:

The Short Version

I came. I saw. I conquered. Go me.
(Now skip to the end and tell me how impressed you are.)

The Medium Version

Mile 1: So cool. Lots of people. Tons of Excitement
Mile 2: Wait a second, how come this road is concrete?
Mile 3: Ouch, ouch, ouch. Left knee, what is happening to you? In thirteen weeks of training, the only injury I had was a teeny little blister. Here it is race day, and you decide to give out on me? No fair.
Mile 3-6: Why is this road still concrete? Left knee, are you and I going to make it another 10 miles? If I promise to let you walk some, will you be my friend to the end? How about if I stretch you out a bit more? Will you promise to stop throbbing if I run on the side of the road in the dirt?
Mile 7-9: Finally, asphalt roads. I'm out of the canyon and starting to think I might finish the race. Knee pain gets worse while I run, but subsides a bit while I walk it out. Run, hurt, walk, repeat.
Mile 9: No bandages at the aid station. But hey, free drugs hanging out and ready for the taking. I take two Advil and start wondering how long it will take to take effect.
Mile 10: I can do this. I run with a nice girl named Anita and we stay together for several miles.
Mile 11.5: Pain in the knee is starting to subside (wow, those drugs really do work), and I know my family is just a half mile away. I tell Anita to catch me later and I sprint the next few blocks to see my kids.
Mile 12: Wow, that is one HUGE cheering section I've created. Eight kids sure generate a lot of excitement. Hugs from everyone and a "hurry up and win the race, mom" from the little ones. Joey hops into the road and runs a block with me. He's a lot faster than I am and I have to ask him to slow down.
Mile 13: Just a block to go. Why does everyone look like they're in pain? This is awesome! Other than the knee, the rest of my body is so ready for this.
Finish line: Cool! I made it. There's free food. My time? 2:50:12. Not too bad, knee, not too bad. If I promise to treat you nice from now on, do you promise never to do that again?
(Now skip to the end and tell me I'm amazing.)

The Long Version

I'm so proud of myself for seeing this through and for how much work went into training and preparing for yesterday. I enjoyed walking through the running expo on Friday night and picking up my packet full of advertisements for strange and exotic running gear and amazing races all over the state that I don't have time to run in. My shirt was way too long, so I shortened it, then added "Mom of 8" with eight little faces grinning underneath it on the back. I figured the extra encouragement wouldn't hurt.

I took a good nap on Friday afternoon, ate lots of carbs this week, including frozen yogurt Friday night with Lillian and my mother-in-law, and went to bed well before 10:00. The nap worked against me, however, as well as the anticipation and excitement, because I think I only slept an hour or two when the alarm went off at 3:30.

I showered, dressed and caught a bus at the Provo mall for the starting line. The half marathoners were to meet the buses there, while the marathoners were supposed to catch their bus just north of the Provo Marriott. The last bus for the half was due to leave at 4:30, while the last bus for the full was due to leave at 4:15. It was just about 4:15 when the ladies in line in front of me said, "Now this is the bus for the full marathon, right?"

We told them no, and tried to tell them where that bus left -- "It's right north of the Marriott." "Where's that?" was the response. "It's where you picked up your packet last night." "We didn't pick up our packets." We tried to give them directions even while we reminded them the bus left right then, and they took off running towards their car.

"I hope they make it" I commented to the guy in front of me. "That's one group that's probably not going to race today," he replied. "You train for a whole marathon and then don't pick up your packet and don't know where to meet your bus? Maybe they really don't want to run anyway."

It was fun to talk with the various people in line and see the thousands hanging around the fires at the start. I understand they capped the race at 2000 runners for the full and 2000 runners for the half and it was sold out. I sat on the bus by a brother and sister who were excited to run. When we got to the start, I sat down by two friends from Orem who had trained together for the race. I was surprised at the different levels of preparation for the race. The brother and sister had only run six and seven miles as their longest run before the race, while the two friends had worked about as hard as I had and had run twelve miles two weeks before.

It was cold at the start and I was glad for my jacket. Ten minutes before the 6:00 start, I took it off, strapped on my water belt, put my running tag with my race number on my bag, and tossed it in the back of a moving truck piled high with other navy blue bags tied with bib numbers. My muscles were cold, so I opted not to stretch at that point and joined the back of the pack at the starting line. Right on time, at 6:00 a.m., the pack began moving slowly towards the starting gates. Our bibs were pinned to the front of our shirts and the race was started individually for each runner as they each passed under the gate at the start and the finish.

I walked towards the start with a mother and daughter pair. With my jacket off, I started to get some comments on my shirt. The mother was one of ten, and I asked her advice for raising a big family. She said she had loved having so many siblings. Her mother was very organized and had all the kids performing in music, but she wasn't very nurturing, so she encouraged me to make sure I love my kids and express it often. I think I do a good job of that. Another mom told me I was amazing because she could barely handle her two kids. "Well, it's like adding a mile at a time in running; you add just one at a time," I told her, when she replied that she'd had twins first. Oh. I told her I had twins too, right in the middle, and she was shocked that I'd gone on to have more kids after twins.

I soon lost track of these runners in the surge towards the start. The loudspeaker reminded us all to walk through the start so our chips would register. Just a few steps from the gate, everyone started running. It was a slow but manageable pace at first and I held myself back from my regular pace, knowing it would be easy to go out too fast. I enjoyed the race atmosphere. The sun was just peeking out over the canyon and there was a good pack of runners. A few runners would comment on my shirt as I ran. There was a group in front of me wearing shirts that said PGFD, so I asked them what it meant. They were from the Pleasant Grove Fire Department. They had two teenage twins in their group who looked about 14 years old. I was to pass them and be passed by them several more times during the race. I was impressed how well the five or six of them stayed together throughout the whole race.

I was a bit concerned as the sun started to rise and I looked down to realize I was running on concrete, not asphalt. I hoped it wouldn't cause any problems (concrete is the worst thing to run on and I can feel a difference after a short time running on sidewalks versus asphalt) and I told myself that surely the road was only concrete through this part of the canyon and would soon give way to a softer surface. I would be wrong, but it was a comforting thought at the time.

I reminded myself that the first mile was for Katie, and I turned my thoughts to her. She was the one who arrived without an epidural and showed me I can handle more pain than I thought I could. She was the one who refused to sleep but who was so sweet and pure I considered our nightly nursing sessions a privilege. She is the delightful soul who charms us all. She lights up when she sees me and brings me joy.

The pack was still pretty crowded at this point and I passed the first mile marker without seeing it. When I checked my phone, I was past the first mile and running at about 12 or a 12:30 pace. I thought to myself how quickly I'd be able to make up the time a bit further into the race and congratulated myself on starting out slow. Then I tried to focus on Harmony, who was my second mile. Harmony, who lives up to her name and started her first steps at just eight months old. Harmony with her bright, shining personality and her absolute love for Katie, Harmony who loved the story I told her Friday night about "Princess Harmony" and then asked me, "tell a story now Ziza (Eliza) a princess."

The second mile passed quickly and I felt great weaving in between runners and walkers. There was an aid station handing out bananas, oranges and Powerade, and I walked while I ate my banana and cup of Powerade.

Sometime in the middle of the next mile, which I ran for Eliza, things started to change. I felt a sharp pain in my left knee that began to throb. I was so disappointed and I started to worry that it might be an injury I couldn't run on. I hoped it wouldn't get worse, even while I thought through all of my training. All those miles I'd logged and the worst thing I'd ever felt was soreness after a run and a teeny little blister on the end of my toe and then here it is, race day, and I'm injured? Of all the luck!

I took a short walk break and then started to run again. I moved to the shoulder of the road and tried to run on the loose dirt there for much of the next three miles. It was a struggle and part of it was the weight of the ten remaining miles. What would I do if my knee got worse? Would the pain work itself out? Could I stretch it and make it better? I ran a half mile or so with an attorney in Orem and our conversation took my mind off the pain a bit, but even with the distraction, there was no denying there was sometihng wrong. There was a good hill towards the end of the third mile. I barely noticed the uphill; I've run a lot of uphill the last month. But still, I had to stop before the top because the pain got worse.

During mile four and five, which I ran for Allison and Sarah, I thought of how they turned my life upside down. I was a mom of three little ones close in age, but they turned me into a mom of many when they were born. I thought of how sweet they were as babies and how crazy they were as toddlers. I thought of how they catch snakes and keep them in their window well, how they love all of God's creatures and tackle life head-on.

It was also during this time I decided to use the strategy that got me through labor to deal with my knee pain. I began to rate the pain and decided that it was about a three out of ten when it started and probably a four or five during the runs. During my short walking breaks, it would subside, but it would start back up again every time I ran. I'd run until it got to about a six, when the pain began to interfere with my form and it felt like I was running on a twisted knee. A short walk break would get the pain back to a three when I'd begin to run again. Run, walk and repeat. Run, walk, and repeat.

The pain was the worst around mile six and seven, run for Michael and Joey, when there was no shoulder to run on and I was back on concrete a good part of the time. I remembered how sweet and thoughtful Michael was even as a baby and how he's becoming more responsible this week, asking daily for extra jobs to earn work hours. I thought of how Joey is becoming goal-oriented, with big plans. I recalled how hard he was as a toddler and how the only way to get him to take naps was to turn on a Thomas the Train DVD in my computer and have him sit in the rocking chair (because he refused to lie down). I thought of what a great relationship we have and how much I enjoy his company.

I checked my phone every so often and was pleased to see that even with my short walk breaks, I was running between 13 and 13:30 minute miles. I kept up that pace through the next miles as well. About mile eight, with the pain not getting too much worse (except when I'd run for too long), I felt more confident that the knee wouldn't get worse and I'd be able to finish the race strong.

I began to fall into rhythm with various other runners and I enjoyed getting to know them. I asked a man about his shirt, which had two dates on the back. "I'm running for my son who passed away two years ago," he replied. I had to smile at the people who skipped the porta-potty lines and headed straight for the bushes instead. I ran for a bit with a gal from Colorado, who was looking forward to the spectators as we got out of the canyon (I think she was probably disappointed, however, as there weren't that many and they were mostly quietly watching for their own runners rather than cheering for the masses who passed them).

Mile eight was for Lillian, who made me a mother. The pain in my foot was getting worse and I had to take more walk breaks and let some of my running partners run on without me. I used the time to text my husband and tell him where I was.

I'd planned on running mile nine for my husband, mile ten for me, mile eleven for the past, twelve for the future and the last mile in gratitude for my blessings, but about this time, I got caught up in the excitement of the race and didn't really pay attention to which mile I was on. I cheered for everyone who passed me and told the ones I passed how strong they were and how great they were looking. I loved smiling through those last miles. Instead of knowing which mile I was on, it was "just five miles to go!" and then "just a 5K left" and then "Just a mile until I see my family." That last one was the most motivating of all!

About this time, I fell into running with a new friend named Anita. Anita had only run nine miles as her longest run and was really feeling it, so she was happy to take walk breaks with me and it was wonderful getting to know her. She's a MPA student at BYU with two kids ages 9 and 7. She does divorce mediation and has horses. We enjoyed our discussions and motivated each other through the miles.

I stopped at a first aid station at mile nine and asked the EMT about what to do about my knee, which was throbbing. I'd been hobbling a bit through the last mile and figured it couldn't hurt to ask. They'd run out of bandages but he suggested I try some of the ibuprofen they had on the table -- free drugs ready for the taking! I found that weird. I took two and hoped they'd help. Anita stopped with me and we did a good run and walk through the next two miles.

Around mile ten, we started to get passed by some amazingly fast marathoners. It was easy to tell who they were -- they were the tall skinny dudes who looked straight ahead and never changed their expression as they breezed past going faster than should be possible at mile 23 in a full marathon. It was so motivating to see how fast these guys were and what the human body is capable of. I cheered for them all, though I doubt they even noticed.

The pain in my knee started to subside about that same time and I started to speed up as I approached the spot in front of the Glenwood apartments where I knew my family was waiting. Aaron texted me telling me the twins were high-fiving all the runners and I couldn't wait to see them. With apologies to Anita, I left her behind as I sprinted through the next block. It was thrilling to catch sight of my crew on the corner. "That's my family right there!" I told a couple of my new running friends and I ran over and got hugs from them as well as encouragement to "hurry up and win, Mommy!" It's hard to describe how much it meant to me to see these ten people (including my wonderful mother-in-law) there to love and encourage me. Joey ran the next block with me.

Then it was just a little over a mile left. The ground was concrete again, but still I ran pretty fast through that last little bit. There were lots of grimaces and pain on the faces around me and I tried to encourage the runners I passed and cheer on the ones who passed me. I marveled that even though my knee was bothering me a bit and I cursed the concrete road, I felt wonderful and strong. I had none of the struggle I'd had in my training run three weeks ago, when I ran the full distance. Because the week prior had only been ten miles, the last three were hard, hard, hard. This time, though I felt tired, it really wasn't a struggle at all to get through those last miles. It made me glad I'd gone the full distance, and I told myself I'd do the full marathon distance before St. George as well.

The finish line was full of cheering fans. I crossed the line, watched a bit for Anita (though I never saw her), then wandered over to the pizza tent and got myself a slice. I absorbed the race atmosphere, took a picture or two with my cell phone (but I still don't know how to download them -- my phone is smarter than I am), then hopped aboard a packed bus going back to the mall where we'd left our cars. I stood in the aisle with a bunch of other tired-but-thrilled runners. We'd gone a block when I realized I hadn't remembered to pick up my gear bag, which had my keys in it. So I sat in the first seat and pretended to be engrossed in my phone while everyone else got off the bus. I went back to the start, had another piece of pizza, picked up my stuff, decided against waiting in the long line for a free massage, and spent five to ten minutes stretching before I got back on a less-crowded bus. The girl across from me looked about dead. The guy behind her said he'd watched a marathoner pass the finish line just ahead of him. The marathoner was running like the wind, but the second he crossed the line, he fell down and passed out.

Back at home, the kids were convinced I'd won the race because I got a medal.

I was really sore yesterday, but going up and down stairs was not nearly as painful as it was the day after I ran the thirteen miles last time, and I'm hopeful that the knee pain was just a fluke from running on concrete and not a sidelining injury. I logged my miles on DailyMile yesterday and realized I was at a total mileage of 247 for the year. Joey came on an easy three mile run with me this morning to bring that total up to 250. We had a great time together and -- blessings -- my knee didn't give me trouble at all. I felt stiff there, but I felt stiff everywhere else as well.

I am so proud of my race. I'm thankful to God that the culmination of my training meant a great race despite my first injury. I'm so thankful that I didn't have to stop short and that I was able to smile through the last five miles. I'm thankful for my family for their support and excitement, and I'm thankful for my body, which has given me eight amazing children and is capable of more than I thought possible.

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Running (Friday Favorites)

I've been doing a lot of running lately, including the full 13.1 mile half marathon distance last Saturday (it was a lovely run through Provo Canyon and only painful the last three miles). And yes, I'm going to use this post as a shameless way to brag about what I've been able to do the last few months, so be prepared with helpful and supportive comments (Did I mention that I ran 13.1 miles last week? And maybe this is a good place to note that I'm down 28 lbs. as well.).

My first half marathon race is two weeks from tomorrow, then I've got one more half marathon at the end of the summer and the St. George Marathon on October 1st!

A couple of my favorite marathon training books so far:

Marathon: You Can Do it! by Jeff Galloway. You can read my review here. Basically, this is THE book for Marathon beginners.
The Non-Runner's Marathon Trainer is another awesome one, especially for the mental suggestions and in-depth discussion of basics like nutrition, injuries, and so forth. My review is here.

My favorite (free) app that turns my Blackberry into a GPS, records a map of my runs and gives me detailed information about elevation, pace, and maps: IMapMyRun. (But every once in a while it does some wonky things -- anyone know of a good alternative?)

And my new favorite training log website is Dailymile.com. I've entered in my data since January and I love being able to track it.

I love that I can see my training by day:
by week:

and by month:

It keeps track of my fastest time (a still-very-slow almost 11-minute-mile pace), my furthest run, and how I've felt through the runs I track.

But my favorite part is this "lifetime stats" part of the page, where I can scroll down and see this little gem:
Yep -- I've run 210 miles this year! Not bad for a mom of eight who still isn't sure what do do about a title like "runner."

Oh, and remember those 28 lbs. I mentioned? I went from my heaviest ever (Katie added about 15-20 of those pounds, but who's counting?)

To this in about 10 weeks:

I've still got another 30 lbs or so to lose, but I've also got a ton of mileage on my training plan, so I'm quite hopeful, and I'm very proud of myself.

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In a perfect world

everyone would have someone to exercise with.

someone they care about and enjoy spending time with.

someone available when they wanted to go.

someone enthusiastic enough to wake up with an alarm and never miss a run.

someone who doesn't care if you're a bit slower than they are.

someone you wouldn't want to disappoint, so you'd get up and run no matter how many times you'd been up with the baby the night before.

And wouldn't it be nice if they were the one to wake you up so there wouldn't be any excuses?

Wouldn't that be wonderful?

Well, meet Joey . . .
He's MY exercise partner.
Bright and early, starting last week, we've been up and running. I wanted to take it slowly, but I was surprised at how easy and smoothly I was able to run nearly two miles all three days. I was pretty sore the day after the first run, a little bit sore the day after the second run, and not sore at all after the third run. Joey outran me every day, because I'm slow, but didn't mind stopping to wait for me every so often.

My perfect world, in which regular exercise is fun, enjoyable, and happening consistently was about to start.

But everyone knows a perfect world doesn't exist.

Here's my little wrench in the works:

Last night, my new jogging stroller arrived! Hurray! Now I can bring Katie along those days she's awake!

Two hours later, I was carrying Katie down for bed and I twisted my ankle. It's painfully sprained.

I really want to run. I've got the perfect partner to keep me motivated, beautiful sunrises to greet, and some extra weight to lose, but now I have to wait until I heal. Isn't life full of surprises?

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Victory!

This morning, I ran my first 5K race. I'm 12 weeks pregnant and sick as can be, yet I still ran. I'm not fast, as I've said before, but I ran every step of the race. I didn't walk at all, though it was tempting. The first half mile went uphill and a lot of the other runners stopped to walk it. I kept running. It was hard. The next stretch was downhill, and I passed a few spectators I knew.

There were lots of people along the route, waiting for BYU's Homecoming Parade. If I'd thought about it in advance, I would have thought, "eh, I'm not sure I'd want people to watch me run." But I didn't think much about it, and while I was running, I found it so fun to run by crowds and hear them cheer us on. There were a couple of people that picked up my number and cheered just for me -- "Go 30!" they'd say, and I'd grin, "Yeah! Me and this baby!" If I run it next year, I'm going to get me a big shirt that reads, "Mother of 8." A little shameless self-promotion isn't all bad, is it?

There was a gal who ran near me that stopped to walk several times. She kept passing me when she started running again, then I'd pass her when she stopped to walk. The first time I passed her, I told her she was doing great. Then when she passed me, I said, "See? You're doing awesome!" Her pace was pretty much the same as mine, but as you know, I don't claim to be fast. Just consistent. The fact that I'm still running, even though I spend much of the last six weeks either throwing up or feeling like it, is a major accomplishment.

Evidently, I was fast enough that I beat my family, who showed up at the Brick Oven to cheer me on, only to miss seeing me.

I finally finished. My run-walk friend caught up to me as we headed around the track for the last little bit. "Hey," I teased, "You're not allowed to pass me!" "I won't," she assured me, "you've helped me a lot." I did tell her I was joking and she was welcome to run ahead. As we rounded the last corner of the track, I pulled together all the energy I had, and I sprinted the last 100 meters. That felt good.

My time? 37:31.4 Like I said, I'm not fast. According to my race ticket, I came in 20th in my age bracket and my pace was 12:04 min/mi. Not so shabby for a pregnant 31-year-old who before this summer had never run a mile straight.

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"But how fast can you go?"

So . . . I took up running this summer. (She says casually, as if it's the most natural thing in the world).

Yep, I am now one of those crazy people waking up three or four days a week while it's still dark, pulling on the shoes and hitting the streets. It's an interesting world out there. I'm starting to recognize some of the same people out and about, from the real runners who intimidate me with their teeny shorts and their fast pace to the older couples out walking and holding hands. Then there's that one lady, a grandma in her 60s who power-walks, smiles at me sincerely, and calls out every time I see her, "You're doing great!" I love that woman!

I am doing great, and I am really proud of myself. Before this summer, I had never run a mile straight. In my life. No, not even when the P.E. teacher blew her whistle and announced cheerfully, "It's time for the mile run!" I just figured running was something other people did, not me.

But that's changed, in a really satisfying way. I can't say I love running. In fact, I probably can't in all honesty say I even like it. But there is something so wonderfully pleasing about the fact that I can actually see and feel the improvement.

Three months ago, I had never run a mile straight.

Two months ago, I could run a mile, but it about killed me.

Six weeks ago, I could run a mile and a half without stopping.

A month ago, I pushed myself to the limits and found I could run 1.75 miles.

Three weeks ago, I pushed a little harder and ran 2 miles.

Two weeks ago, it was 2.25 miles.

Last week, it was three miles. Yes, three miles! As in, a full 5K! Well, minus the .1 part. Now I know I'm not going to totally embarrass myself on October 24th when I run my first 5K. Yes, I've even become one of those people who sign up for races they have absolutely no chance of winning, just for the chance to do something hard. Oh, and to get a T-shirt.

I've made exercise an important part of my life for years, but this is different. When I worked out to videos, the progress wasn't so obvious. I could say, "wow, this is a bit easier than last time," or "I'm not as short of breath as I used to be," but it was much more subjective. I love that running is objective. I can add up the miles, the quarter miles, and I can even check the clock as I leave and return, recording how long the route took me.

Which brings me back to the title of this post. I ran into an acquaintance at the twins' gymnastics last week that I hadn't seen in many years. She has three kids and she and her husband are runners, both of them training for a huge relay in Las Vegas. I mentioned how I've taken up running this summer and that I’ve been happy with my improvement. "But how fast can you go?" she asked, "Because that's what really matters."

I have laughed a lot about that since. To me, how fast I can go is so far from my thoughts. The fact that I am running over a mile for the first time in my life is just amazing to me, and I could care less if I run it slower than someone else (though I did check last year's time on the 5K I'm running next month, and I can safely say I will not be last!).

This morning, as I pushed myself to keep running to the next marker and the next, I began making a list of all the things I do like about running:

* I like that I can easily measure my progress.

* I like that I'm doing something hard.

* I like that by the time I'm done running three miles, even my fingertips are sweaty.

* I like that woman who says, "You're doing great!" I really, really like her.

* I like the extra energy I feel later that morning.

* I like that I'm doing crazy things like checking out training schedules for half-marathons, thinking about signing up for long races, and mapping out runs (using mapmyrun) that I am nowhere near capable of completing at this point in my life, like that 7.5 mile route that takes me along the river, up a hill and around the temple.

* I like that I haven't given up even though I've had good reasons to.

* I even like the battle I wage with myself every day:

Me: You're getting tired. Maybe you should walk for a while.
Myself: No way. I can go a little further.
Me: No, you can't. You need to stop and walk.
Myself: Yes, I can. I did it yesterday, remember? So I can do it today too!
Me: Oh, yeah. I guess maybe you can. But you're still tired, you know?
Myself: Oh hush!

* I like that it gets easier to keep going the more I do it.

I thought about listing the things I don't like about running, too, but then I realized they're fairly obvious:

* The first half mile.
* The last half mile.
* The middle couple of miles.

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Renewal (nearly Wordless Wednesday)

I've been getting my exercise every evening around sunset. There are two paths I take. One takes me a short distance along a busy road, across a bridge and onto a beautiful walking path that follows the river. During the day, I take that path.

(picture from fall)

The other path takes me up a hill and through a neighborhood. In the evening, I take that route.

Last night, the sunset was spectacular.

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Fitting it all in . . .

Sometimes there seems like more things to be done than there is day to do them in, and lately, I've felt stretched a lot and frustrated trying to do it all. Of particular concern for me has been fitting in time to exercise and watching what I eat better. We got a treadmill for Christmas, and I'm determined to get back to my ideal weight before August, when I'll probably quit nursing and become pregnant again (at least that's been the pattern!). So far, it's been working, and I've slowly but surely lost 4 pounds the last two and a half weeks. However, it's been at great cost to my calm, organized days. Finding time to exercise and resisting the urge to snack at my most exhausted moments has taken a ton of effort, and it's cost me a lot of sleep.

Finding the right time to exercise has been one the hardest challenges. Our family wakes up at 6:45 for scriptures, and I just plain don't have the willpower to wake up any earlier than that, especially when I've already been forced into wakefulness several times during the night to feed a baby.

At this point in my life, I need all the sleep I can get. Up until the beginning of December, I was blessed to get a nap many weekdays. Eliza and Harmony would go down for naps at the same time in the afternoon and I'd have quiet time for the twins, where I'd turn on a video for them (their only TV during the day) and lie down in the next room. It was heaven. I hadn't felt so rested during the early baby stages since my first baby!

I'm not sure what's changed, but now it seems that every day something interferes with my nap. If I've exercised in the morning, my body is usually too keyed up at naptime to rest. Other days, Eliza will go down wonderfully, but Harmony will sleep a mere forty minutes, and by the time I get lunch cleaned up and the twins settled, she'll wake up. I'm an incredibly light sleeper, so other days it's been the twins opening a door to let a kitty in or sneaking into the pantry for a snack that's woken me (they've yet to remember I have superhearing!).

In any case, my final exercise time only compounded my sleeplessness. I would hop on the treadmill at 8:00 after the kids were settled in bed. It worked great, except then I was too keyed up to fall asleep before 11:00 or midnight, making that 6:45 a.m. wake-up time seem like the hardest thing in the world.

But the last two days, I've discovered a great new time for exercise -- 2:00 in the afternoon. Sure, I have to change and shower in the middle of the day, but so far, the kids have been rested and have played happily nearby while I worked out. By then, I've gotten a nap if I'm going to get one, and I've found that the extra adrenaline boost at that time has gotten me through the tough after school and dinner hour.

In fact, today I pretty nearly had a perfect day. I was able to talk to my mom on the phone, plan visiting teaching, play with my kids, clean my kitchen, run to the store, take the twins to preschool, take Eliza to storytime at the library, get a nap (hooray!), exercise for forty minutes, take four kids to gymnastics at two different times, plan two service projects for tomorrow, and all with (almost) perfect patience. I LIVE for days like today, when everything goes smoothly and I feel like I'm fitting it all in. Of course, tomorrow may not go so well and life wouldn't be life if there weren't challenges and problems, but days like today fill me with joy and excitement. I just want to pause and savor it and say, "What a great day."

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Hmmmm . . .

For the past five weeks, I have been exercising 5 days a week for 40 to 60 minutes in an attempt to lose weight. I'm up 3 pounds. Maybe I shouldn't buy mint Oreos anymore?

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