Baby Steps

Next week, Lucia will be 9 months old. NINE MONTHS! It's crazy to think that we will soon be celebrating her 1st birthday party, and let me tell you, she is growing up quickly. While she has always been ahead of the curve developmentally (rolling back to belly and belly to back at 3 months, sitting unsupported at 5 months, crawling/scooting at 6 months), I am certainly not ready for those first baby steps that she may soon be taking.

These past few weeks we've been battling colds, ear infections, and the usual coughing spells, but it hasn't slowed her down any, and it hasn't slowed Mommy down either. The quicker Lucia gets, the quicker I get. I get quicker at catching her falls, I get quicker at locking the doors, and latching the drawers, I get quicker at making her laugh, I get quicker at saying "no," and I get quicker on the road. That's right, somehow, I have found the time to get faster, but we'll get to that with a another post later this week.

Lucia is getting stronger, taller, bigger, and smarter, at a rate that I find hard to keep up with, but somehow I'm managing. This past week she perfected her pull-to-stand (and pulling herself up onto everything possible is all she does). While she did it in front of me a few weeks ago, as of Monday she had yet to do it without immediately falling down. On Wednesday my husband called to tell me that her teacher said that she had pulled herself to stand on the "baby fence" and stood there for about 10 minutes all by herself (probably because she hadn't figured out how to get down yet). I never thought I would have the reaction that I did, I mean I see kids pull to stand everyday, I help them pull to stand, I teach them to pull to stand... so crying about my daughter doing it was a little unexpected, both to my husband and myself. When I thought about it a little more I realized that I didn't cry because she did it, I cried because I missed it.

I try not to be a therapist at home, and while its hard, I have really tried not to treat my daughter like a patient when it comes to her development. I try to focus more on giving my daughter opportunities and experiences like taking her to the beach, the park, and letting her explore. She'll crawl when she wants to, she'll stand when she wants to, and one day (probably soon) she will walk when she wants to. The problem is, I want to be there when she does.

I am not ready for her baby steps. More importantly, I am not ready to miss her baby steps! I want to be there for the first step, the moment when she discovers that her feet give her freedom, and her legs give her power. I don't remember what it was like to take my first steps, but I wish I did, and I want to be there for my daughter's so I can tell her exactly when and how she did it.

"The journey of 1000 miles begins with 1 step." One step, one big important step. I'm waiting for it. I'm excited for it. I'm dreading it. One baby step will lead to many baby steps, many baby steps will lead to "big girl" steps, "big girl" steps will lead to running, and once she's running, I know it won't be long before she's gone, and as Dr. Seuss so eloquently put it...oh the places she'll go! ...Baby steps.

Baby steps...

Baby steps... I'm not quite ready for those baby steps yet, even though it may mean that she's one step closer to running her first race with her mother.

Murphy's Law

“Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.” Runners know this oh so well. Today I ran my 7^th half marathon, but I came really close to not running it at all.

Lucia has been battling colds and ear infections on and off for about a month now, and while I know that I should be grateful that she lasted six months without really ever getting sick, her being under the weather has been taking an enormous toll on my nerves. I hate it when she’s sick. I feel so helpless and totally not in control. I try my best not to freak out, but she’s my little princess, and I get so incredibly nervous when it comes to her health.

On Monday she finished up a week’s treatment of antibiotics. She was doing much better. On Wednesday Jason came down with a hideous stomach bug that had him out of commission for about 36 hours. Of course, psycho mom over here wouldn’t let him touch the baby because I was so worried that she’d catch something else. So Lucia and I went about our normal routine (work, daycare, work, daycare, etc.) for the rest of the week. By Thursday evening all was well in the Neves household and we began making plans for the race weekend.

Jason and I had miraculously found a babysitter for tonight (date-night will have to wait for now) and we were making plans for our first date in a few months. I don’t normally work on Fridays so my plan was to clean up around the house, run some errands, and pick up my race packet. Friday morning, when I got Lucia up for her first bottle, I noticed that she had a little more gunk in left eye than usual. I brushed it off thinking that she laid on it a certain way during the night and brought her downstairs to feed her. That night at dinner Jason so eloquently said “She’s got this green eye booger.” He confirmed what I was afraid of… the little munchkin had pink-eye.

So there we were at 7:00pm, a baby with symptoms obviously consistent with conjunctivitis, and nothing that we could do about it. Our pediatrician was probably about 45 minutes away, and definitely was not in the office that late. So we took her to the Urgent Care. Luckily they were open, and they were quick. By 8:00pm we were out of there with a prescription for some eye drops.

I laid in bed last night cursing the parents who bring their kids to daycare sick. I was so angry. It seems like it has been one thing after another with Lucia and every time I get her better she comes back with something else. I was livid. I toyed with the idea of not running the race, heck , I toyed with the idea of becoming a stay-at-home Mom and quitting my job. I was so upset about her getting sick all the time that all these crazy thoughts were running through my head.

So ,to make a very long story, just a little bit shorter. I ran the race, except I ran sick. The second the race started I realized I had caught whatever it was that Jason had earlier in the week. I had to stop running to throw up twice, and somehow finished in my best time for a half marathon since 2007 by just less than 5 minutes. Instead of enjoying my victory and hanging out with my husband and baby, I curled up in the fetal position on the couch and hoped that whatever was in my system would go away soon. And, on top of everything else, I think I have conjunctivitis in one eye too. I've been in laying down since I got back from the race, Jason has been running around like a mad man taking care of the Lucia and making sure I stay hydrated. Since I am tired of sleeping (is that possible) I figured I would get up and blog a little, it can be very therapeutic at times.

Anyway, whatever could go wrong, went wrong. But I stuck through it. Sometimes running through adversity can teach you a few lessons. I know that I can push my body, I probably shouldn’t, but I know that I can do it. And, if I can keep running, I can certainly keep working (not that I really entertained the whole stay-at-home Mom thing for more than 2 seconds). Running today made me feel awful, but it gave me a little gut check (literally and metaphorically). Lucia is going to get sick, Jason and I are going to miss our date-nights every now and then, I’m going to get tired, there will be rough weeks, and there will be great weeks. You’re never going to see the light at the end of the tunnel if you quit and turn around. You just have to find the energy to keep going!

Marathon #5: Part Deux

It’s funny how the only time this week that I’ve been able to sit down and blog is during the Super Bowl. If you know me well, you know that this is entirely uncharacteristic of me to be distracted from the world’s most important game! But, life has changed.

Life has changed so much that:

-Waking up at 6:45am is sleeping in.

-When the house smells like pureed sweet potatoes, it smells good.

-Going out with our friends for dollar beers and dollar hot dogs is a great Saturday night and the fact that we are in bed by 9pm on a Saturday night is even better.

-Going out on Saturday night is a miracle.

-I use the word “Poopy” at least 80 times a day.

-Either Jason, Lucia or I have had a cold/flu/fever/cough/ear infection for the past 75 days.

-It takes all day to clean our house. It stays clean for 65 seconds.

-I have to schedule everything. EVERYTHING. If its not on the agenda… its not happening, and even if it is on the agenda, there’s no guarantee its going to actually happen.

-Lucia’s laugh makes me crack up hysterically no matter how often I hear it.

-I like the taste of Gerber’s Apple flavor baby cereal and I consider mixing some for myself in the morning before I go to work.

-I can’t really remember a time that Jason and I weren’t married, or that Lucia wasn’t a part of our lives.

-We’re really happy. Who would have thought that moving further South was a good thing (I’m saving a little more on this topic for another post… I have a lot to say about this!)

-It doesn’t take me 25 minutes to get out of bed anymore, the second I hear Lucia on the monitor, I am up and ready to go. She’s the most reliable alarm clock ever!

-Life is glorious.

So, yes, life has changed in very good way. I know it may seem like I’m complaining, but I don’t mean to be. I actually wouldn’t have it any other way. It just makes blogging about my little running escap

ades a little harder than I thought it would be. So here I am, writing whatever thought comes to mind, and glancing over my computer every other 5 minutes just to make sure the Packers are still winning (Sorry Steeler Fans, I’m a die hard Cowboys fan, and the Steelers winning this game just isn’t good for America’s team).

So lets get back to Marathon #5; The Disney World Marathon. My previous entry was about MY race, but I wanted to make sure I wrote a little bit about the actual race itself. My overall impression… AWESOME. If you have fond memories of Disney as a child this race is for you. Every mile was enjoyable, there was plenty of entertainment, and there were surprisingly a lot of spectators. The water/aid stations were great, almost at every mile. There were bananas,

oranges, and candy at about every 3 miles (unfortunately I didn’t opt to grab any). There were probably about six GU stations in the last half of the race. And, I’m going to guestimate about 7-8 medical stations complete with barrels of biofreeze and vaseline. It was very well run, and very well organized.

The race course was wonderful, it took you through all of the Disney World parks beginning and ending with Epcot. The race started with awesome fireworks (and we all know how much I love fireworks). There are Disney characters all along the way and fabulous photo ops! I had a wonderful time, my family really enjoyed it, and reliving some of my greatest childhood memories on a 26.2 mile adventure was priceless! It definitely brought out my inner child!

My one piece of advice for anyone who wants to run this race is to run it for fun. Run with Mickey Mouse ears, stop and take your pictures with all the characters on the way, and take some extra time to enjoy the scenery. It’s a flat, fast course so you’re going to run well, but if you don’t take the time to enjoy it, you’ll regret it later. Since this was my comeback race, and my competitive side got the best of me, I didn’t enjoy it as much as I should have. The only picture I have of me with a character is when I crossed the finish line and Donald Duck gave me a high five. I don’t have a picture of me in front of the magic kindom in my race gear, I sped through Epcot, and I pretended like I didn’t want anything to do with Sleeping Beauty when I saw her at mile 11 (she is my favorite princess of all time). So, if you’re running the 2012 Disney, enjoy it! That will be my plan, at least! I have two more races this year to take seriously. When I do the 2012 Goofy challenge (13.1 miles on Saturday and 26.2 on Sunday of marathon weekend) I will be taking it slow and easy, and enjoying every minute of it!:)

Marathon #5: Part I

I’m back! I have been meaning to write this latest post for about two weeks now, but I’m going to have to chalk it up to technical difficulties and leave it at that. The good news, or bad news depending on how you look at it, I have a lot more to write about now… so we’re going to have to break this up into two parts.

Seventeen days ago I finished my 5^th marathon in 4:58:44. It didn’t go as planned, and I didn’t meet my goal time, but I had a whole lot of fun. For about 20 miles I was running with a huge smile on my face. At mile 20 the pain set in, and for 6 miles I pushed through possibly the worst cramping I’ve felt since Lucia was born. I can’t really say that I hit the wall at mile 20. I’ve hit the wall before, and I know what it feels like, and this wasn’t it. This was different.

I’ve had almost three weeks to reflect on what happened throughout those long 26.2 miles. Believe me I have analyzed, over-analyzed, every single step. After the initial moment of triumph that I felt when I saw Jason holding Lucia up in the air to see me cross the finish line I have to admit, I beat myself up a little. I made so many rookie mistakes.

I had a game plan. I was going to run the first 2 miles slow, at an 11:00 minute pace (that wouldn’t be too hard, the start is always slow, you’re moving around people and passing all the walkers). Then I would speed up to a 10:30 pace up until about mile 5, and run a 10:15 until about mile 10. Then I planned to speed up to a 10:00 mile at least until the half and try to maintain that as long as I could. It was a great plan, so why didn’t I follow it?

I ran the first two miles pretty slow. And as planned, at mile 2 I started to pick it up. The problem was, I picked it up a little too much. I glanced down at my Garmin at about mile 6 and all of a sudden I was running almost a 9 minute mile. I thought that it was a mistake, and my watch was just being goofy for a second, but that wasn’t the case. Mistake #1: I didn’t slow down. I felt great, I felt wonderful, I felt unstoppable. I saw my Dad and my grandmother a little bit before the 10 mile marker and my Dad shouted “You’re doing great Deborah, you’re doing great.” I smiled, shouted that “I feel awesome!!!!” and sped up a little more as we entered the Magic Kingdom. The whole time I’m thinking, “Man, not only am I going to make my goal time, but I’m going to blow my PR out of the water.” So I kept speeding up, and I kept a good stride. At about mile 12 my legs started to feel really tight. Mistake #2: I didn’t stop to stretch. I kept on going, my legs kept getting tighter, I didn’t want to stop, and I was determined to get my PR (remember a month ago I wasn’t even going to try beat my PR). So slowing down to do something as silly as stretching, hah, that was for amateurs. At the half way mark I saw my fan club again. Dad had some cold orange slices for me, so I stopped to fuel up a bit and told him that I was starting to feel tight. “You’re way ahead of the 4:30 pace group, if they pass you, just tuck in behind them and get comfortable and just cruise your way to the finish, it’s all heart now.” Great advice, seriously, I’m not being sarcastic here. But, the 4:30 pace group, could I do it? Mistake #3: I started to doubt myself. The mind games began. I had run the half in under 2:15. When I crossed the check-point I was on pace to finish at 4:29… plenty of room to play with, at least enough to make my 4:45 goal. Yeah, in 2 miles I went from “determined to get my PR” to easily making my goal. So I kept going, I knew I was slowing down, but the 4:30 pace group hadn’t caught up to me yet. At about mile 15 I really started to feel my legs giving up. The 4:30 pace group had passed me. Cardiovascularly I was fine, I wasn’t even breathing hard. But my legs, my best assets, my strongest parts, were betraying me. I kept making deals with myself, I’d tell myself that if I could run to the next water stop I would get a minute break to walk. That soon changed to, run a mile, walk a minute. And then finally run 5 minutes, walk a minute. At mile 20 as we were coming up on a small hill, my hamstrings just stopped working. This terrible sharp pain shot right up into my lower back and I could not bend my legs. I was done. Mistake #4: I gave up. I got scared. Yeah, I had done the training, finished all my long runs, and I had done this many many many times before... I still got scared. This was my 5^th marathon, but this was my first marathon as a Mommy. For four months of training I refused to let that be an excuse, for four months I looked past the extra weight I was carrying, the joint pain, and the clumsiness that just didn’t go away once my belly was gone like I thought it would. But, in the end all of that was enough to freak me out. Whether I like it or not, there are inevitable physiological changes that happen to a woman when she has a baby, and while it is completely possible to run a marathon 6 months after giving birth, I was kidding myself to think that it wouldn’t be a different experience. My hips are larger, my core musculature isn’t quite back to normal yet, and there is a lot more on my mind now when I run (after all, I am a Mom). And all of these things can have an enormous effect on performance.

So while, I’ve been beating myself up about my time, I still feel like I accomplished something really great. It’s time now to look at the bright side of things. Like Lucia saw me run a marathon as a six month old (In Disney World none-the-less). It wasn’t my best time, but it wasn’t my slowest. It was only 20 seconds slower than the last marathon I finished before I got pregnant (when I was 5 lbs lighter than I am now). I escaped the whole endevour injury free (after a few days of ice, tylenol, and rest). I am still running. I am still shrinking (4 lbs less than my pre-pregnancy weight, 15 lbs away from my goal). I’ve got another marathon coming up in May. And Lucia saw me run a marathon! Wait did I mention that already…

Part Deux coming soon

DISNEY!

It’s been a while since my last post. I had every intention of keeping up with weekly entries about this whole marathon process but as Lucia gets older, the less time I have. On Sunday she will be 6 months old and on Sunday I will complete my first full marathon since May 2009.

While I haven’t been keeping up with my blog, I have been keeping up with my training, and I AM READY! Tonight I finished my last “real run” before the race. I ran a quick little three miler and plan on jogging one or two miles on Saturday just to keep my legs loose. I’ve been tapering for about 3 weeks now and I feel really energized. These short runs don’t even phase me now.

Three weeks ago I ran twenty miles in 3 hours and 35 minutes. Not too shabbyJ! Jason met me with some orange G2 gatorade after my run and was surprised that I wasn’t even breathing hard. He got on my case and told me I wasn’t pushing myself hard enough, and he was probably right. See, when I began training for my post-baby comeback race I automatically set a goal to finish the race in 4 hours and 45 minutes. I kept telling myself to take it easy, and I took things pretty slow in the beginning. With time I got stronger and naturally got faster. Losing a little bit of weight also helped shave a few seconds off my mile time too. But when it came down to the last half of my training schedule, I’ll admit that I phoned it in a little.

Most experts will say that its okay to take it slow, especially when you’re training for an endurance event. Hal Higdon will tell you its all about the mileage; It’s simple, you run the miles, do the training program, and you’ll run a good race. But if you want to get faster, you have to run faster.

I’m pretty confident I can make my 4:45 goal, and now I’m wishing that I set my standards a little higher. I’m trying to tell myself not to be dissapointed with anything less than 4:45, but as competitive as I am, I’m finding it really hard to fight the urge to take-off fast and aim for a 4:30 pace.

So, to help me fight that urge to run fast, there is already another marathon in the works. With the support of my family and friends, I’ll be running my second marathon of the year in Buffalo, NY on May 29^th. If I don’t set personal record at Disney, I will most definitely have a personal best in May. But, for now, let’s focus on Disney!

FOUR MORE DAYS! In four more days I’ll be hitting the pavement again alongside thousands of other runners just like me who spent hundreds of early morning, late night, and lunch time hours running. Some will run faster than me, some will run slower, and some will run right by my side matching every breath and every step for approximately 285 minutes. While I will admire everyone who finishes the race, I will be sending some extra good vibes to my fellow mommies who will be running this thing with me. Running in itself is hard, but being a mother runner, that’s really hard!

I have friends that ask me how I do it. A lot of people can’t understand how I find the time. To be honest, in the beginning, I didn’t really know if I would have the time. Lucia has always been my number one priority, and running will forever be a distant second to her. But the time I spent running in the past few months is easily justifiable when I think about the kind of example I am setting for her. I love her so much and as I have said before in my blogs, she is the best inspiration anyone could have! But, aside from my daughter there is one more person who has kept me going. Well, “kept me going” is probably an understatement. I mentioned before that when I finished my 20 miler Jason was waiting for me with a gatorade and was a little dissapointed with my effort. “You ran that in 3:35? You’re not even tired! You’re not pushing yourself enough, you can work harder, you can run faster than that!” Most women would have been insulted by his comments. I wasn’t, deep down I knew that I could have run faster. That’s the beauty of our relationship. He pushes me! So, how do I have the time to do it?… I have a very supportive, patient, and motivating husband. When I would take off on three hour runs on Sunday mornings, Jason would watch the baby. He would take care of everything. He would bring the baby out to the front porch to cheer me on when I was lapping the neighborhood or hold her by the treadmill so I could give her a kiss mid-run. One morning he made me a cinnamon coffee crumble cake for my post-run breakfast (impressive right, even if it was out of a box). I could not have done any of this without him.

So, here we go! Disney Marathon weekend is here. When I ran my first marathon in 2007, I ran for me. On Sunday I will be running for Lucia, and when I cross the finish line I’ll hang the Mickey Mouse medal over her head and we’ll celebrate her 6 month birthday. On Sunday I will be running for Jason, and thanking God every step of the way for giving me such a wonderful husband. On Sunday I will be running for us, running for our little family, and looking forward to all of the events (athletic and non-athletic) that we will share with each other in the future. I love you Jason and Lucia! WE’RE GOING TO DISNEY WORLD!

She ain't heavy, she's a mother!

Today I’ll be finishing a recovery week with a 10 mile run this afternoon. I have been steadily running over 20 miles a week, and last week I ran a total of 25 miles, with a 13 mile run on Sunday. All the mileage is starting to add up now, and 7 mile runs are starting to feel like 3 mile runs, and 10 mile runs are starting feel as easy as 5 mile runs felt a month ago.  Coming up this week, 4 mile, 7 mile, and 3 mile runs, followed by a 15 miler next Sunday. On Tuesday my Lucia will be 4 months old.  And on Tuesday I will have exactly 2 more months until the Disney marathon.

I really can’t believe how fast this year has gone. A year ago this weekend we announced to our immediate family that we were expecting.  The holidays came and went, I started a new job, and sure enough Lucia was here before we knew it. I thought that life would slow down a little once she was born, but I was wrong.  These last four months have flown by. Lucia is getting so big and so strong, and although life has changed significantly in the last year, my husband and I couldn’t be happier.

By now, most everyone I know has figured out that I’m running this marathon, if I hadn’t told them already. But now that everyone knows, there’s no shortage of people offering their opinions about my running, my ability to run, or whether or not they think I should be running at all. For the most part my family is supportive, but I can tell you that even my father questioned whether or not I was getting “back in the game” too quickly. Last week one of my co-workers watched me try to covertly adjust my slightly tight pre-pregnancy khaki’s and then turned to me and said, “So when is this marathon you say your training for?” When I told him it was in January he quipped, “Setting some lofty goals for yourself, huh?” I just smiled, told him that I felt pretty good about my chances, and shrugged it off. I’m pretty sure he was questioning the shape that I was in, and it got me feeling a little self-conscious about the fact that although my pre-pregnancy khakis  zipped and buttoned up just fine, I guess they didn’t look as good on me as they used to.  But seriously, what woman looks good in khakis anyway? I only wear them because I have to.  Sometimes I don’t think men realize how sensitive new Moms can be about their bodies, but I do have to thank him in part for entering a new level in my training this past week.

As I said my mileage is steadily increasing and up until last week my focus has been to just finish my runs.  I always try to set a time goal, and come as close to a 10 minute mile as possible, but in the end I just want to finish the run. Well, that has now changed!  I upped my game a little for my last five runs, running at a 9:30/mile pace. When I finished my 13 miler last Sunday, I ran it faster than I had run my 12 miler the week before.  I am sore, I am very tired, and at the same time I feel wonderful.  I can finally say that I am back to my pre-pregnancy weight, can fit into most of my clothes, and I am happy.  

I don’t look like a runner, and I am not skinny. I do need to lose more weight (those extra 8 lbs I put on before I even got pregnant). But hey, I can run. I can run far. I can push my baby all around this neighborhood and not get tired. I am a Mommy, and if you don’t like the few extra pounds I have accumulated from bringing a beautiful baby girl into the world, you don’t have to look! It took me a long time to realize that you don’t need to be a size zero to be a runner. There really isn’t a typical runner’s body.  But there is a runner’s mind, and I have it.  I will run in two months, and I will be ready.  I will finish 26.2 miles with a smile on my face, because this body, fat or not, can do it! So, thank you Mr. “Lofty Goals” for giving me a little push to work that much harder, I may not be the size you think a marathon runner should be, but I AM A RUNNER, and I can run circles around you.

Conquering Chicago

I haven’t been keeping up with my blog lately, in fact I’ve just been trying to keep up with life. I just started working again full time, and this week was Lucia’s first in daycare.  As expected, everything went as planned, Lucia did wonderfully, I made it through the week, and like most Mommies, crashed into a deep sleep once the week was over.  Lucia is still magically sleeping through the night which makes everything tremendously easier.

Surprisingly enough I have been able to keep up with my running. It’s my fifth week of training for the Disney Marathon and I was able to pull off a 3 mile, 5 mile, and 3 mile run this week, all while trying to fight off a cold. On Sunday I have to run 10 miles, again, the furthest I’ve run in almost a year.  I’ve had to run on the treadmill a lot so that I can make sure to watch the baby at the same time, but I am finally starting to feel good and I am keeping a steady 10 minute mile pace. Lucia still smiles as she watches me run and go nowhere, and when she gets bored she plays in her gym right next to me.  

My first day back at work went pretty smoothly, and as the week progressed I knew that being a working mom would be tough, but completely worth it.  While I love my child more than anything in this world, I love my job too. By Wednesday, however, the guilt started to kick in. I work in both the pediatric and orthopedic settings, but pediatrics is my passion and I love working with children with special needs. I love my little kiddos at work, but I have days when I feel bad that I’m looking after other people’s children when my own child is across the street being looked after by someone else.  So in a moment of weakness, and after my 12:45 patient cancelled, I emailed my Dad (yes, I’m 27 years old and I still run to Daddy when the going gets tough, I hope Lucia will be the same way with Jason) to vent my frustrations. Like always, my Dad has the best advice.  In his reply email he wrote two things that he has told me before, and I need to always remember; “As I've always told you, you CAN have it all -- you just have to work harder to make it all come together,” and “You will do fine, and you will be a great Mother -- you have a great example!”

I’ll tackle the latter statement first.  I do have a great example.  My mom is truly the quintessential “Super Mom.” When we were young my Mom was a teacher, a Department of Defense award winning teacher actually. She too took care of other children while someone else watched my brother and I. My Mom loved her students, and she poured her heart and soul into teaching. When I look back on my childhood I never once felt neglected, or like Mom never spent time with us.  In fact I felt really lucky to be the daughter of everyone’s favorite teacher.  Most importantly, my Mom made the time that she did spend with us count, whether it was dressing me up like a princess, carting me to t-ball, or shopping in Itaewon for big huge stuffed animals. My mom was/is the best. Not only is she a good example of a mother, but she is a good example of a person.  I used to be insulted when someone would tell me I was just like my mother, now I take it as a compliment.  Sometimes Jason will catch me doing something just  like she does and says “You are JUST like her.” And I just look at him, smile, and say, “Well, then you are one lucky guy!” I love you Mom, when I run like a mother, I think of all the things you have sacrificed for me, thank you for everything that you have done, and everything you continue to do for me and our family.

Now, back to my Dad. It’s true. He has always told me that I can have it all. And at times, I have found that hard to believe. But if there is anyone who knows about “having it all” it’s my Dad. If you know my Dad you know that there is nothing he does that he doesn’t put 100% of his entire being into. Everything he has ever set his mind to, he has done.  For example, he used to tell me that when he was a little boy his goal was to conquer the world. He is now a thriving international business man, has been for over 20 years, and continues to travel all over the world kicking butt and taking names.  For lack of a better term my Dad is a “bad-ass.” The best thing about my Dad is that on his way to the top, he was always a father and a husband before anything else.  And every once in a while, Dad took time for himself too. 

When we lived in Spain my Dad started training for his first marathon. He would get up and run early in the morning before anyone else woke up so that his running wouldn’t take away any time from being with his family. I was 16 years old when I saw him cross the finish line of the Madrid Marathon, and I was so proud. He was a machine. 

Years came and went, and in 2007 my Dad started training again. Coincidentally that was the year I ran my first marathon.  I remember my Dad joining me at mile 19. There was a hill called the Calvert climb in DC and up until that point I had run the entire race only stopping at water stations. That hill broke me down! But my Dad helped me push through it. For the next 6 miles he ran by my side and helped me push through it.  Whether it was his usual words of wisdom, or a kick in the butt, he pushed me.  About 400 yards away from the finish line my Dad left the course and let me finish the race on my own. “Finish strong,” he said.  It felt like I sprinted all the way to end, and when I crossed the finish line I was on such an adrenaline high that I felt like I could have run 2 or 3 more miles.  I frantically started looking for my family and friends who had come to cheer me on.  I found my grandparents first, hugged them and assured them that I was not dying:) Then my Mom, who was crying, made me get a little teary.  Then my Dad finally made his way through the crowd. And of course, like Daddy’s little girl, I started bawling. He wrapped me up in that tin foil looking blanket they hand you at the end of the race, hugged me, and said “Don’t ever let anyone tell you that you can’t do something, you can do anything you put your mind to.” 

I know that my Dad lives by those words. He shows it in everything he does. After that marathon my Dad and I ran the Baltimore Under Armour Marathon together, the Virginia Beach half, the Marine Corps Marathon, the Cincinnatti Flying Pig Marathon, and another hand full of halfs. In 2008 my Dad tried qualifying for the Boston Marathon, but missed out due to hamstring injury, and a poor tape job from his daughter (me).  Dad has kept trying and trying and trying, and has been getting faster and faster and faster. Failure has never been an option for him! My Dad is STILL a machine, and this weekend Dad is running the Chicago marathon, and will (the power of positive thinking is great, another lesson my Dad taught me) finish in less than 3 hours and 35 minutes. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to see him do it.  But I will take off on my 10 mile run tomorrow and I will pretend like I’m running with him (hoping that he is running much faster than I will be)  and pushing him through the final miles, just like he pushed me a few years ago. I know my Dad will do it, after all, my Dad has conquered the world.  Conquering Chicago will be easy!

To my parents: Thank you for teaching me the importance of hard work, making me the person who I am, a decent wife (I hope), and good mother… and helping me be a better runner too.  Let’s conquer Chicago this weekend… then it’s onto Boston in the Spring!!!!