New challenge!

So, I hate cancer. Really hate cancer. It scares the poop out of me, and it's why we've been eating a plant based whole foods diet-- so much research has shown how minimizing the consumption of animal protein (milk, eggs, and meat) reduces the risk of cancer.

True story. Check it out here.

But what really gets me is children getting cancer. Stories come up where some kid is having to fight this unfair battle (like, really, cancer? You couldn't pick on someone your own size?), and I can't even finish reading about them. It breaks my heart into pieces and I just want to snuggle my kids until the threat disappears. I realize there's a reason for everything and all that jazz, but it doesn't take away how hard it is. I'm selfish. I get that. I want my kids to stick around, and I want everyone else's kids to stick around.

So this month, I'm doing this.

There was a time (a yearish ago) where running 100 miles a month wasn't a big deal. Lately, though, I'm still adjusting to having three kids, working, and treating running as a gift to myself rather than as something to check off my to-do list. My mileage will vary from 20ish miles a week all the way down to 3 miles a week. If I feel like biking, doing the elliptical, lifting weights-- I've been doing that instead. If I'm tired, slept horribly, or fighting a cold, I don't exercise, and I don't beat myself up for it. It's been wonderful for my relationship with myself.

But for kids with cancer? I'm willing to kick it up a notch.

If you want to donate to help me help kids, go here: http://www.alexslemonade.org/mypage/116753

You'll see a super cute picture of my kid, which makes it worth at least checking out.

It's nice being a place where I can focus on running for happiness, for health (for myself and others), rather than out of self hatred. Such a wonderful place to be in.

So many things.

First of all, our vacation has been awesome. I'm incredibly sad that it will be ending too terribly soon, but it really has been amazing.

Several shades of amazing. With all sorts of surprises and goodies and everything wonderful.

But I want to talk about something else for a moment, and then I'll get on to the happy later (with my last post, I should probably start with the happy, but I won't. Because this is my house, and I do what I want!).

The other day, whilst on vacation, I entered into one of my sanctuaries-- the bookstore. My other slices of heaven include anywhere I'm running and the library-- so if someone can train me to be coordinated to run while reading, I'll be set (audiobooks, though lovely, do not count). The husband kept the kids so I could go in for a few minutes alone, which was a treat. Though I do adore my chitluns, being able to wander freely between the aisles without fear of someone taking a book down to rip (literally) through the pages, or knock over a display, or run like maniacs between the legs of some unsuspecting patron-- this was a treat indeed.

In perusing the aisles, I came across the self-improvement section. As this was a religiously affiliated bookstore, it did not surprise me to see some of the titles. They were separated into sections, including parenthood, faith, and fitness. There were titles on organization, and some on time management. When my eyes traveled over the marriage section, though, I saw some familiar titles-- ones I had purchased myself years ago-- and the grump monster stirred in my belly.

"How to Affair Proof Your Marriage."

There were several books on this very topic, and I glanced up to make sure I was still in the "self improvement" section. The reason why I doubted this was for what I feel is a very obvious reason:

If you don't want an affair in your marriage, don't have one.

One would assume that if you are worried enough about an affair happening in your marriage that you are willing to purchase books on the topic, you are likely in the category of people who would not have an affair. For you, the decision (and yes, it is a decision) is easy-- simply do not have an affair.

Beyond that, it is out of your control.

That isn't to say that you have permission to act like a total turd bucket (the clinical term) in your relationship-- the rules behind being a decent human being require being respectful to others, especially your spouse-- but to say that there are things to do to prevent an affair from happening indicate that there is some fault in the betrayed spouse when an affair happens. And to be honest, I've not heard of something more ridiculous.

Have you heard someone blame the betrayed? I have. And it's absurd. And to be honest, it's insulting to everyone involved. To the betrayed spouse? You could have done something differently. Or not done something that you did do. Or you should have done more. All of this hurt and awful in your heart? You were kind of asking for it. And for the person who had the affair? How does it feel to realize that you don't have complete control over your actions? I know someone who doesn't have complete control over his actions. His name is Felix. He's an infant (12 weeks old). He regularly poops his pants, and he gets really upset about it. I imagine it probably is just as upsetting when you realize you're capable of the same level of control over your actions as well.

The truth is, you can do everything perfectly, and your spouse is still capable of making his/her own choices. You can be completely and totally miserable in your marriage, and you can still choose to be faithful. You can be married to some June Cleaver/Martha Stewart/super savvy business woman/Playboy Bunny mix, and still choose to violate her trust. So to write a book that has a list of things that you can do to make your marriage "affair proof" (translation: immune to affairs) is advertising mind control. And body control. Which, as far as I know, doesn't exist. We are all agents over our own brains and bodies (except Felix, who, in spite of his sad protests, still continues to poop his pants), so to tell someone that they can do something to keep someone from doing something else is absurd. And mean. It makes you a bully, because you are casting blame on someone who has not earned it.

So as I continued down the aisle, I considered writing the book titled, "Everything You Can Do To Prevent an Affair (Legally)" and then have the inside read, "Don't have one." But, alas, I doubt such a short book would be published. With something as complex and heartbreaking as the violation of marital trust, we want to think we can do so much to keep it from happening. But to suggest that there is the check list of things we can do is to say that those who are victim to the emotional car wreck are at least partially responsible for the pain they feel. That is what we call in the social work profession "victim blaming." Stop it. Stop all of it.

Start taking responsibility for yourself, and stop blaming other people when you screw up. The world would be a much better place if we all decided to do just that.

Let's Chat.

There is something I need to get off my chest.

At church on Sunday, we had a great lesson in Relief Society (our women's organization) discussing ways to improve and strengthen family relationships. The insights and contributions offered by the women around me were uplifting, and renewed my desire to put forth a conscious effort to constantly improve the emotional well being of my husband and children.

That being said, I must address a particular point that was made that I have found to spread across individuals in various situations: Hugging.

It seems innocuous, right? With the colloquial phrases used, hugging is a ubiquitous phenomenon that appears to be happening on the regular ("hug it out," for example). The original point being made was that it is important to express affection in the home, and hugging was offered as an example. As the discussion continued, though, hugging became the only form of affection to be offered, and it was not limited to individuals in your home-- it was discussed as something you should do (not could, but should), even if someone doesn't want to be hugged. It was actually stated that if someone is upset and even if they do not want to be hugged, you should hug them anyway, because it will really help them.

First of all, there are various ways to be affectionate. In fact, there is an entire book that goes into all the various forms of affection, and different people respond more to certain forms than others (words of affirmation, service, one-on-one time, gifts, as well as physical touch). What is important is identifying how your loved one interprets affection, and showing them love that way. It isn't to say that a person cannot feel love in any of the other ways, but it is more meaningful and effective to utilize the love language they respond to most. Limiting yourself to just one in expressing your love/affection to others, and suggesting there is only one way to express affection, really diminishes the capacity for love and affection to exist within your system.

Second, when someone has expressed they do not want to be hugged-- whether it is through their words or body language-- and you desire to hug them anyway, it is no longer about showing affection. At that point, the motivation is purely selfish-- whether it initiates from a place of wanting to be helpful or some other seemingly altruistic stance-- because you are ignoring the needs and desires of the other individual so you can do the something you know how to do, because you are uncomfortable doing nothing. You would rather avoid your own discomfort and make the other person uncomfortable than respect their wishes. The person who does not want to be hugged, for whatever reason, does not interpret "affection" from the hug, and hugging them anyway will not help them. It will more likely keep them from ever coming to you in a difficult situation ever again.

Third, and probably most importantly-- if someone has expressed in any way that they do not want to be hugged, whether with their words or body language, and you hug them anyway, it is no longer a hug. It is assault. You don't know why the person doesn't want to be hugged-- Perhaps they didn't grow up in a huggy-home, they're self-conscious, or maybe they just don't like you. The reason doesn't matter-- you do not have consent to touch them, and you are not entitled to their body. Acting against their wishes communicates that you no longer deem them a person worthy of respect and autonomy, but instead you view them as an object to be acted upon.

I am one of these people that do not like to be hugged. I'll hug the crap out of my kids and my husband, and the occasional close friend (under very specific circumstances), and I'll take hugs from them in return. But my circle of hug-trust is miniscule, and you know why? I'm a survivor of sexual assault. If you give me an unwanted hug, you may end up with an unwanted throat punch.

So to you, a hug may not be a big deal. "I don't know what I would do if I couldn't hug someone," someone said during the lesson. My body, or anyone's body, is not a tool for you to feel better, and if this is the place you are going emotionally/mentally, that isn't on me. It's on you.

So be open to the possibility that your physical "fix" isn't so benign to the person you're inflicting it upon-- you may be doing more harm than good.

Priorities.

I've been struggling a lot lately, and just recently decided to take an inventory of why. Whenever I struggle, I notice that there are a lot of things in my "should" pile that I'm not doing, and as a result, I'm grumpy, tired, irritable, and feel like I'm racing to bedtime just so I can get some "peace."

That's a crappy way to use up a day.

So what have my shoulds been?

My house should be clean-- spotless-- so that if anyone drops by, I don't have to feel embarrassed.
This comes from a variety of places. I was in trouble a lot growing up because my room was a mess. When I was dating my husband, his mother would make comments about whether I would volunteer to help clean when I was at their house (which, while it is a nice thing to do, why the devil is it an expectation that I clean YOUR house?), and then she would clean when she came over to babysit. It was embarrassing. I am a terrible wife and mother if my house isn't clean. The spirit isn't as strong if my house isn't clean.

This is ridiculous. I have three kids, three and under. And while I know that I can keep my house clean (because I've done it), it comes at an absurd expense. I'll get the house clean while the husband is out on a ride, and then I'll be grumpy because he was out doing something for him, and I was doing something for the family. Or I'll neglect the littles while I'm cleaning, and get frustrated and angry if I'm cleaning one thing and they're destroying something else (as a result of being ignored). I certainly shouldn't let my house become a danger zone, but the idea that I can keep it positively spotless while still giving my children the attention they deserve is unfair to everyone involved.

I should get my workout in before my family wakes up so I don't take time away from them, and I can feel accomplished for the day.
This has been a hard rule that I've followed as a result of many things-- one being that it is so hot now that exercising outside when it isn't early morning is almost impossible in the unbearable heat. I also noticed that if I didn't get it in first thing, I would often delegate it to the evening, and then by the time the kids were in bed, I'd be too tired to do it, and I'd feel guilty/worthless/gross for not having exercised.

So many health issues involved here. One is that I know from the research the husband and I are obsessed with that adequate sleep is one of the most important things you can incorporate to positively impact your health. With a ten week old baby, sacrificing sleep to get up early on top of nursing all night long, and staying up to spend time with the husband after the kids go to bed, I recognize that I'm giving up such an important component of my physical health to exercise-- which I do for my physical health. It's counterproductive. And if I sacrifice time with my husband to go to bed earlier, I'm choosing to negatively impact my relationship. And by getting up early to go exercise, I miss my favorite time of the day-- the part where all my littles slowly wake up, and want to wrestle and play and are SO happy! And the guilt that comes from not getting my workout in? Oy. Such a history of disordered thinking.

If I'm going to be a runner, I should be fast. And getting faster. And I should do well in all the events I run in.
This was my mentality all through training for the marathon last year, which resulted in injury. And the reason why I HAVE to run in the morning is I can't run hard when it's hot out, and if I'm not running hard, then I'm not getting faster. The problem with this is that I fall into the cycle of get up early-- or don't, then I have to run at night, when it's cool, but then I'm too tired-- and I deny myself the option of running during the day. Because I can't run FAST when it's hot out. Ugh, this is ridiculous. If I can get four miles in at a decent pace, that's great! That's so good! That's getting all the physical benefits of exercise my body needs to be healthy. It's all or nothing thinking, which falls into "stinking thinking" we talk about in Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. It's a vicious cycle that results in self sabotage. I'm a wife and a mom. I'm awesome. I enjoy running. I don't have to be the fastest person to still enjoy running. And by thinking I need to be the fastest, I'm denying myself a lot of opportunities to actually run-- because I cut out the part of the day where I actually have time to run while still enjoying the more important things in my life. It's just silly.

At the end of each day, after I tuck my littles into bed, I always think about whether I've given them a really great day. I'm so aware of how quickly time is passing, and I want so badly to be a great mom to them. So when I get to the end of the day, and I look back at how irritable I was, how grumpy I was, because I didn't get enough clean, or didn't get my hard workout in, I feel awful. Guilty. I didn't do right by the people who mean the world to me. And then I'm tired because I woke up too early on too little sleep, and can't enjoy the time I have with my husband. What a crappy way I've been living, all because my attitude sucks.

Well, I'm going to fix it. I'm going to enjoy the people in my life, and take time to take care of myself in a way that is positively motivated. I'm going to enjoy taking care of myself, instead of feeling like it's something to check off my to-do list.

Here's to being happier.

Mommy Peeyooked.

Yesterday, rather than waking up early to run before the littles woke up, I decided to run when I returned home from work at noon. Upon walking in the door, I discovered that one little was asleep, so I made a mad dash to eat some lunch, and then head out in the 90 degree heat. This was considered cool compared to previous days, and after running in the early morning, the lower humidity made it seem almost paradisiacal.

So off I went. No goal in mind, just an easy run until I decided to turn around. I had my garmin on, but didn't look at it. My favorite kind of run.

All was well until about a mile and a half before I returned home. My stomach started acting up, and I felt myself needing to cough. Uh oh.

Then, with about a mile before making it back home, I stopped in some shade and peeyooked.

What a waste of avocado.

On the bright side, I felt pretty hardcore in spite of making it an easy run.

Super Model Stomach!

I recently went on a group run-- my first since having #3. It was only a 5k, so I arrived early to get a couple of miles in prior, and planned to do another couple after. What I discovered, though, was that the group run went over campus, up some stairs that climbed a very steep hill, and then down one of campus' super steep hills, only to go down a block and come back up a super steep hill. Then back through campus, and up another long hill.

Hills.

I should get used to them, since my goal is to PR at a half marathon in October that is very hilly. But I've decided to work on my mileage now until my half next month (oy, less than four weeks from now), and then do some speed work/hills afterward. It's a happy little delusional reality I've created where I'll be totally fine in October, and I don't have to worry about doing the hard, hurty stuff yet.

However, I discovered something interesting when doing this run. I'm the personality type where I don't stop to walk-- EVER-- my pride won't let me. Do you know what trumps pride? A complete lack of core.

And apparently, after three kids, the abdominal muscles are not as strong as they used to be without doing some serious core work, which I have not.

I completely lacked the middle strength to hold myself upright when attempting to run up the hills. Out of genuine fear of crumpling into a heap on the ground, I had to walk.

So I posed the question-- eight weeks post baby, what kind of core work can I be doing to get in hill shape, and how often? The responses were mostly really informative, and I headed over to the library to pick up some workout dvds for cross training. However, I was so pleased with myself when some of the responses did not address strength at all-- instead, they addressed the appearance of the core. They spoke of how women are entirely too hard on themselves after they have a baby, and to give it time and allowance to heal and recover before you expect to look a certain way.

I was pleased because my motivation was not about how my core looks (though a flat tummy would not be turned away). My true motivation in posing the question was getting my core to a place where I could perform better-- it wasn't about appearing a certain way, but about being able to do a certain thing. I want function. I want strength. I want to be faster, stronger, less of a falling hazard.

I love running. I love where it's brought me. This is a world away from where I was seven years ago.

Hooray.

Race Report: Freedom Run, July 4th

I know, I'm late. I'm going to keep playing the "I have a new baby!" card as long as I can (2 months old today!).

When I signed up for the Freedom Run 5k, I wasn't expecting anything. It was seven weeks to the day after #3 was born, and I was really just eager to get a race under my belt to maintain my team status with our local running shop. The race was in a town about a half hour away, and I had to be there by 6:30 a.m. at the latest for packet pick-up. My darling husband insisted the entire family go, which meant the kids would be getting up at 5:30, and he'd be watching all three of them while I raced. God bless him!

We went to bed the night before way too late, and woke up at midnight with our middle child vomiting. He got a bath, the bed had to be stripped and made, so when the alarm went off early the next morning, feeling energetic was difficult. But that was okay! All of my favorite boys were coming to cheer me on! How could I not be tickled?

After arriving and picking up my packet, and doing the dance of having to get out my nervous-pre-race-pee while also getting my three year old to the bathroom amongst all the other racers with their pre-race-bathroom routines, I headed out to the start line to prep for the run. My goal was to get sub-25, which was not exactly a PR, but would be swift with what I'd been running lately. I jogged around the parking lot once, and felt ready to go. The husband informed me that this was not an adequate warm-up. I reminded him that I never warmed up, and then he reminded me that I'm getting old. Thanks, love. "The shorter the race, the longer the warm-up needs to be." Okay, fine. So off I went to run up and down some streets to get my legs and ankles warm. I wasn't too worried about it-- the race was advertised as very flat, so I just needed to pound out some quick miles-- the suffering would be short lived.

I'd like to go on record as saying that the people organizing the race are, in fact, liars. That course was about as flat as my post-partum belly.

And please tell me I'm not the only person completely incapable of accurately gauging where in the start line I should be. I always underestimate myself, so I end up having to weave in and out of people to get to people running my pace. It's not awful, because I find passing people to be a nice little ego boost, but it does affect my efficiency and hinder my kick at the end with the unnecessary depletion in energy.

Anyway. Started way too far back. I figured an 8 minute pace would get me what I wanted, so allowed for a little bit slower the first mile to get into the groove. A flat course meant I'd be able to adjust the last two miles no problem to get the average pace I was seeking. About a mile and a half in, though, I discovered the deception of the race description, and was kicking myself-- I'd warmed up better than I had for any other race, I didn't need to take it so easy the first mile. Regardless, I reminded myself that it was only a 5k, so I could suffer outside of my comfort zone (I think that idea makes sense only to people in endurance sports) to reach my goal. I was hurting, but I could make it! I was going to do it!

I made it around the last bend before the slight uphill to the finish line, and tried to give it my last kick. I wasn't looking at my Garmin, or the clock above the finish line. I was in the zone. I was going to do it! I was going to make it! I was-- HOLY CRAP THERE IS A DEAD GUY IN THE FINISHING CHUTE.

Okay. So he wasn't dead. But a roughly 70 year old man had apparently recently face planted into the pavement by the finishing barriers, and I did a little dance (both physically and mentally)-- do I stop and help him? I didn't see him fall. I didn't know how long he'd been down. The finish line was RIGHT THERE-- so do I finish and come back? There are tons of people around, so is someone coming? As I debated this in my head, a couple of official looking people rushed to his side, and I opted to let someone who actually knew what they were doing help him out and finish.

Official finish time? 25:04.

So. Close.

Again, wasn't expecting much, other than my little goal and getting a race done. The husband insisted I look at the placing, since medals were given to the top five in each age group. I laughed, as my PR of 22:39 got me second in that tiny 5k, there was no way a 25:04 would get top five in a race as large as this.

And what do you know? 25:04 was apparently good enough for third.

I was happily tooting my own horn, admiring my medal, when the husband so kindly reminded me:

"Yeah, but if that guy who was old enough to almost die doing a 5k hadn't ALMOST DIED, he would have beat you."

Thank you, sir.