my holiday gift

Patience of Mother Teresa aside, one thing that I did do for my family this year was sacrifice the physique that my running and my hard work at the gym created (a physique that is less then perfect, of course, but continuously improving) to ensure that my kids did not consume too much sugary food.  I let them have the candy from the stockings and the candy canes on the tree, but I managed to consume enough baked goods for myself and all three kids combined.  This was no small feat, considering that the Christmas baking started in the Blake house around December 15th and there was much iteration.  Cookies for teachers, cookies for parties, test cookies for parties, cookies for Santa.  But I did it.  I kept my family safe from all the needless calories the same way a soldier throws himself on a grenade.  I took one (or two, or three) for the team.  What can I say?  I'm a giver...

patience

I have come to realize that the holidays aren't only stressful for the parents of this world, but it's a pretty challenging time for the kids too. For them it's primarily excitement (and lots of extra sugar), but their enthusiasm isn't always expressed appropriately. One would think that given their awareness of Santa watching, baby Jesus coming (which is becoming a bigger deal with their Christian education), and the Elf on the Shelf, the kids would be on their best behavior. That is just not the case. So I have made a decision about how I can make the holidays better for my family. This holiday season I will have the patience of Mother Teresa. I will cuddle the cranky, teething toddler without worrying about what else I should be doing. I will try to do something every day to make sure that my kids have a fun day, even if it means that they come in covered from nose to knees in mud. I will count to ten before I yell. I will not stress out about play-doh being ground into the carpet or sandy footprints in the hallway. And I will not take my frustrations out on the only other adult in the house.
I expect my kids to be kind and respectful. I won't tolerate bad behavior, but I am going to find a little more patience for each one of them. They deserve it, and I think we will all have a happier holiday if I can.

Inspiration

We all get inspriation from different places.  In my race report (previous post) I mentioned that it was a good song that made me kick up my pace during my half marathon.  But I think it was more than that.  The song in question is "I got a Feeling" by the Black Eyed Peas, which I think is a fun, great running song.  However, the night before my race I came across this amazing video of the Black Eyed Peas playing an outdoor show in Chicago as part of Oprah's 24th season kickoff.  There was something spectacular about seeing a crowd of thousands of people doing this amazing thing in my hometown that just gave me goosebumps.  Marathon morning when I looked around at all the people running miles and miles through the streets of Charlotte, and all the volunteers, and all the people that were braving the cold to cheer on the runners, I just felt like I was part of something bigger.  We all are. 
Please check it out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1aSbKvm_mKA

Thunder Road Half Marathon

I was worried about my hip. I was worried about going 13.1 miles when my longest run to date was 10.4. I was even a little worried about the unseasonably cold weather. I was excited to compete in something new, but I'll admit it, I felt a little out of my element on Saturday morning when we were getting ready to run. Everything was working out perfectly. No problems getting to the convention center to get my pre-race stuff, lines for packet pickup and bathroom were reasonable, and once the sun came up, it didn't feel as cold as I thought I would. But my confidence wasn't there. My last run (the Wednesday before) was as close to pain free as I had experienced since Thanksgiving and I had a great night sleep on Friday, so by all accounts I should have been ready, but I didn’t feel it.
Kim and I started somewhere in the middle of the five thousand runners that braved the twenty-eight degree temps to run either the half or full marathon. The vibe was amazing. People dressed as elves, as Santa, and we even saw one guy dressed as Bam Bam from the Flintstones (apparently he missed the Halloween races but wanted to get some use out of the costume). The road ahead of us was packed with runners and the road behind us was the same. I almost didn't notice my pace or the hills for the first couple miles. Around mile four I realized that my heart rate was higher than I wanted it to be and I slowed down a bit. Since this was my first half marathon, my only stated goal was to finish... but I really hoped that I could do it in ten-minute miles or better. I could tell that Kim was a little concerned about our pace (which seemed to fluctuate between 9:40 and 10:30, but was over ten-minute miles more than under), so I gave her the out to leave me behind if she wanted. I really felt like I was going as fast as I needed to be at that point. I had decided that I needed to keep my heart rate on the lower end of my comfort zone until about mile eight or ten, and then I could let loose. So I slowed us down a few times. If Kim was bothered by it she didn't let on. At the mile markers we were consistently hitting a 10:05 or 10:10 pace… until I got a really good song on my iPod at about mile seven or eight and we took off. Kim pulled us through another good song on her iPod, and before we knew it we were at mile nine and had cut thirty seconds off our split time. My legs felt good. My hip was starting to complain a bit, but it was still so much better than it has been just a week ago. We hit mile ten and had shaved off another twenty seconds. We were running at about a 9:30 pace when we hit mile eleven and Kim and I had officially run further than either of us had ever run in the past. At that point I knew I could make the full 13.1 miles, and now it was time to chase down my other goal: finish the race in a ten-minute mile pace. I won't say it wasn't hard, but I pushed it. When I felt myself slowing, Kim was right there pulling us along. I was taught years ago by one of my fastest runner friends (Ed Tarnuzzer, for those of you who know him) that you always need something left for the finish, and this was no different. As we got closer to the finish we picked up our pace, and when I saw that big yellow banner printed with the glorious word "FINISH", I ran as hard as I could. We made it. Kim and I finished the race in 2:09:49, which meant that our average pace was 9:55.
I may have been too conservative with my pace early on; I may have been able to go faster. When I try something for the first time, I tend to keep my goals pretty modest. I don't ever want to work that hard and train that long only to be disappointed with my performance. My goals that day were to finish and to run ten-minute miles or better, and I did it.

I did it!

perspective

It's all about perspective.
I have been a little bummed lately. At the end of September, I started training for this half marathon (the race is this Saturday, December 12th) and have loved my training. I had been feeling great and running better than I ever thought I could. Then a week and a half ago I start having IT band issues and I am so frustrated. I want to go into this race feeling like I'm at the top of my game. I know that this is not the Olympic trials and I am not some world-class athlete, but when I compete in something I want to know that I am doing the best that I can do. So after a tough week of running, where I was in some pain during my runs and absolutely hobbling around after, I was nervous about my longer run today. I am caught between wanting to follow my training plan to the letter to ensure that I am ready... and not wanting to push myself because I don't want this injury to force me out of Saturday's race. So I planned to do six miles, but thought I'd push it to eight if I felt up to it.
But I live in a hilly area and completely forgot that my PT suggested I find a flat course for this run until I was already running the first of many hills. See, the hills hurt. I mean, running hills rarely feels awesome, but with my ITB/hip pain the hills can be killer. So as I was in the midst of the half-mile climb to leave my neighborhood, I quickly nixed the eight-mile plan. My run was okay. I felt decent enough, but with every stride my hip hurt from the time my foot hit the ground until I pushed off again. Around mile five I started to feel disappointed that I was hurting and that my pace was pretty slow (I thought I was doing 10+ minute miles) when running had recently been such a great experience for me.
I'll admit I was about to start a little pity party when I remembered a blog post that read recently, which I had written in January of this year. In this post I was bemoaning the fact that I couldn't run a mile. One mile. See, I had made good running progress last fall after recovering from my broken ankle, but I got pneumonia for the holidays and running was out of the question for a while. How's that for a little perspective? I couldn't run a mile, and less than a year later I'm banging out six miles and feeling bad about my ten-minute mile pace? Not for long. I realized that while dealing with an injury so close to my race isn't ideal, it's out of my control. Things don't always go our way. All I can do is go into that race on Saturday and do my best; injured or not.

I finished my six and a half mile run with an overall pace of 9:54 per mile. So much for the pity party.

gorgeous

Isabel's new phrase: "I'm Gorgeous!".  No issues with her self esteem.  I can't wait until she starts saying that without prompting.  That will be hilarious.  She is though, isn't she?

missing the B

I was at my sister's house while visiting Chicago, and I saw a new picture of Brianna.  Ok, to be accurate, the picture was not new; it has been four and a half years since Brianna died, but it was a picture that I don't remember seeing before.  I didn't realize it, but I had committed all the other pictures of her to memory except this one.  This picture was new to me.  And I cried.  It's funny sometimes the things that will set us off.  When I am in my life far away from the rest of the family, I can remember Brianna more fondly, more objectively.  I can think about all the wonderful things that she brought into our lives in her short nine years and I can be grateful that we had her that long.  But when I go to Chicago it's different.  In Chicago I miss her more, because that is where she is meant to be.  She didn't spend time in my house in Massachusetts and we moved South long after she was gone, so while I miss her always, the feeling is nothing compared to the void felt at my sister's house.  I still miss you punkin.  I can only imagine the young woman that you would be becoming now.