Why are we parents so afraid to let our kids fail? Why do we fear mediocrity? Why do we often have this compulsive need to always give our kids a leg up? I've been wrestling with this question on many different levels lately with regards to both of my children, but this past weekend provided a wonderful example of why it's more than OK to let our children experience (gasp) not being the best at everything they do.
As many of you know, Katy is a figure skater. She's not a great one, but she's also not a terrible one. Figure skating is full of drama - most of which, sadly, is provided by the parents. I find this to be true in any sport, really. For whatever reason, my generation tends to have this obsessive need to make sure our kids are "always on the best team". We start them in a sport earlier and earlier (soon there will be fetus leagues), and as soon possible some of us rush to put them on the coveted TRAVEL TEAM. God forbid we let them waste away on the lowly park district recreational team. And if our kids aren't chosen for those teams, or we think our kids are just so darn fantastic that they shouldn't be on the travel team, we simply quit that particular organization and form a new one. And sports never end - there is winter soccer and winter baseball and indoor track and thus any sport can be done all year long. I'll be curious to watch our kids as they get older to see how many of them burn out, or worse, get seriously injured from the rigorous training we put them through. Now, I can already hear the indignant retorts of many of you, so let me assure you that I am not immune to the draw of youth sports. My son will soon be a 3 sport kid - karate, football, and baseball. He is happy as a clam on those rec teams, however, and we have Jayson in sports for different reasons than most parents so I feel like I can give myself a pass with him.
But I CONSTANTLY have to keep myself in check with my daughter. Katy started skating when she was in first grade, mainly because her entire rec soccer team went over to travel and Erik and I just weren't ready to make that leap. We signed her up for lessons and laced up the rental skates. For 2 years she happily moved along in skate school. It wasn't a huge time commitment and it wasn't really that expensive. Then one day someone asked if Katy wanted to try the Synchronized Skating team. I had never even heard of such a thing but it was a relatively cheap beginner team and she seemed to like it during the tryouts. She had a great time that year and we happily stayed in our oblivious bubble, not really understanding how crazy this sport could become. As time wore on, the reality of the sport hit us. In order to be "successful" in individual figure skating, you better be prepared to spend gobs of money, and put your child on the ice for hours each day. This was not going to happen with Katy. Not only could we not afford it, but I was weary of the time commitment. So we decided team synchro skating was the route to go. We loved the fact that she could make tons of friends, and we felt is was a cheaper way of enjoying the sport of ice skating. But like any other sport, not all teams were seen as equal. And you had "pay to play" so to speak.
But at the end of that year, most of the girls in her team organization left to go more successful teams. Katy's program never had a great reputation and the girls and parents were sick of losing. A small core of us decided to stick around and see if we could help the new coach build a program. I'd love to say we did this out of selflessness and a good heart, but really most of us just couldn't afford to go to the glitzier teams. And so for the next two years, Katy's synchro team finished at or near the bottom in every competition. It was hard to watch. At the end of every year more girls would leave to go to more successful teams, but still some of us stayed, this time because our girls had become very close friends. And although our girls didn't like losing, they chose the friendships thay had found over the medals they could probably get elsewhere. And in the mean time, they continued to practice, continued to try to improve themselves, and continued to learn that life doesn't end if you come in last place. And as high and mighty as I may sound (I'm really trying hard not to), I will totally admit that I thought about leaving at the end of every year - it was my daughter who insisted on staying.
But after 2 long years of relative failure, a funny thing happened. The coaches continued to build the program at the lower levels, and the higher level girls kept the bulk of their team together. They continued to practice, and continued to work hard, and they grew up and became a little stronger. The coaches encouraged them to work on invidual skills and most of us parents tried our hardest to make that happen without breaking the bank. All along the way the girls became even better friends, and the parents grew closer as well. In our own weird way, we had become a family of sorts (wildly dysfunctional, but what family isn't? lol.) Losing didn't bother us any more. And you know what? That's when the team started winning. This year the girls have earned their very first medals in synchro skating, and this past weekend brought their first ever Gold. You could have knocked those girls over with a feather when their coach showed them those medals - us parents as well. Years of "failure" only made their success sweeter. And along the way our girls learned valuable lessons - it's OK not to be the best, you can still find fun in sports when you don't win, and there is joy to be found in all your experienes - even if those experiences don't end successfully.
I suspect next year these girls will be competing on a different level since many of them are getting older. I could be wrong, and I hope I am, but I think it's likely they will find themselves out of medal contention next year as they get used to new levels and new skating skills. But regardless of what next year brings, I am confident they will enjoy themselves whether they come in first place or last place. So it's fun to watch them bask in the glow of gold right now, but it's even nicer to know they don't need it. We parents (me included) need to remember that...
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Friday, November 30, 2012
It Takes a Village
We've all heard the phrase, "It takes a village to raise a child". It's been thrown around for quite a few years now, started way back when by (I believe) Hillary Clinton. Never has this been more true than for my child, Jayson.
Every village has a leader, so I guess Erik and I qualify for that position in Jayson's life. We aren't perfect by any means (most leaders aren't), but we have good intentions and do our very best to guide Jayson. It's not easy. There are days when the responsibility is overwhelming and the problems seem insurmountable. That's when I'm so very grateful for the other villagers in Jayson's life.
Jayson's school is full of helpful villagers. I can't even begin to list all them and how they help and shape him - but here's just a few: It's his third grade teacher, who spends a ton of extra time figuring out how he learns best, and then calls me to help put plans into place for him. This same teacher calls me every once in awhile, giddy with excitement, when Jayson does well. I know she's a big cheerleader for him and that warms my heart. It's also the aide, who patiently redirects him when his attention wanders, and takes all his idiosyncrasies in stride. This same woman is trying desperately to put herself out of a job by making him more independent and responsible for his own organization. It's the speech pathologist and social worker, who see Jayson every week and continue to work on his social skills, grabbing me every chance they get in the school hallway to tell me how much they love spending time with him. It's the principal, who has sat in on nearly every IEP meeting with me and my husband, truly doing her best to make sure he gets all the supports he needs, and also stepping in when she thinks he's being bullied. It's the library workers, who always have a smile for him and treat him so kindly. It's the occupational therapist, who started on just as a consult, but thought perhaps there was something more she could do for Jayson so she asked my permission to test him and then decided to take him on for more in depth therapy - mind you, her schedule of students was already packed to the gills. It's the gym teacher who brought the Wii to school and introduced Jayson to "Just Dance", bringing happiness to his life and some wiggle in his booty. It's the music teacher, who gave him a tryout for a speaking role in the concert (he didn't get it this year, but maybe next year). It's all the teachers and aides in the past who have cheered him on and always have a smile for him in the halls. And it's the special kids who go out of their way for Jayson, asking the teacher if they can be his partner or help him when he has trouble. Even better, it's the kids who don't go out of their way for Jayson - they just treat him like any other normal third grader, talking about sports or playing tag or eating lunch with him.
And there's plenty of villagers to be found outside of school. There's his karate Sensei, a large man who could kill me with his thumbs, who has taught Jayson karate since he was 5 years old. He has the patience of a saint and has worked absolute miracles with Jayson's focusing skills. It's the football coach that knew right away that Jayson wasn't going to be a star player, but made sure he had a terrific experience at every practice and game. It's Erik's friend, Tyler, who owns deer hunting land down state, and often invites Erik and Jayson down for some "guy time", know how much Jayson LOVES climbing into the deer blinds and target shooting with bb guns. It's everyone at our church, who have known Jayson since he was born, and have accepted him without judgement, providing him with such a comfortable environment that he FINALLY has started going to Sunday school and has even shown interest in taking his First Communion. It's the families of all the girls on my daughter's skating team, who see him at the rink and even stay overnight with him at competitions, who readily accept him and never give him strange looks. It's their sons, who swim with him at the hotels we stay at, and provide such wonderful social models. It's my good friends, some of whom understand better than others what it's like to struggle with a child who is "different", who make him AND me feel relaxed and accepted. It's my neighbor's son, a high schooler, who knows Jayson idolizes him and always takes time out of his very busy schedule to spend time with him, or just say hello. Actually, it's all three of my neighbor's kids, who have never given off the vibe that they don't want him around - they always include him and accept him. And it's my family, who through the years have supported him and rooted for him at every single turn. I used to get frustrated with my family, who used to insist on how normal Jayson was. I always wanted to scream "No!! Stop pretending like everything is OK!!". But now I'm so very grateful for their attitudes. I never have to worry about what Jayson will say (or not say), or do (or not do) around my family. They always provide unconditional acceptance.
I'm sure I'm forgetting plenty of villagers, but Jayson is so blessed to have every single one of them in his life. It is because of them that he is doing so well, and growing up to be such a neat boy. Jayson's village is raising him up and guiding him well. There have been (and will be) many times when some villagers try to bring Jayson down. But thankfully those villagers are in the minority, vastly outnumbered by those who go out of their way to make him succeed.
And let's not forget that we are ALL villagers in each others lives. Our actions and words have profound effects on everyone around us. What kind of citizens do we want to be? Let's be productive ones. Let's all do our best to raise each other up, instead of tearing each other down. It takes a village to raise a child, but it takes all kinds to make a village. Let's make our villages great ones.
Every village has a leader, so I guess Erik and I qualify for that position in Jayson's life. We aren't perfect by any means (most leaders aren't), but we have good intentions and do our very best to guide Jayson. It's not easy. There are days when the responsibility is overwhelming and the problems seem insurmountable. That's when I'm so very grateful for the other villagers in Jayson's life.
Jayson's school is full of helpful villagers. I can't even begin to list all them and how they help and shape him - but here's just a few: It's his third grade teacher, who spends a ton of extra time figuring out how he learns best, and then calls me to help put plans into place for him. This same teacher calls me every once in awhile, giddy with excitement, when Jayson does well. I know she's a big cheerleader for him and that warms my heart. It's also the aide, who patiently redirects him when his attention wanders, and takes all his idiosyncrasies in stride. This same woman is trying desperately to put herself out of a job by making him more independent and responsible for his own organization. It's the speech pathologist and social worker, who see Jayson every week and continue to work on his social skills, grabbing me every chance they get in the school hallway to tell me how much they love spending time with him. It's the principal, who has sat in on nearly every IEP meeting with me and my husband, truly doing her best to make sure he gets all the supports he needs, and also stepping in when she thinks he's being bullied. It's the library workers, who always have a smile for him and treat him so kindly. It's the occupational therapist, who started on just as a consult, but thought perhaps there was something more she could do for Jayson so she asked my permission to test him and then decided to take him on for more in depth therapy - mind you, her schedule of students was already packed to the gills. It's the gym teacher who brought the Wii to school and introduced Jayson to "Just Dance", bringing happiness to his life and some wiggle in his booty. It's the music teacher, who gave him a tryout for a speaking role in the concert (he didn't get it this year, but maybe next year). It's all the teachers and aides in the past who have cheered him on and always have a smile for him in the halls. And it's the special kids who go out of their way for Jayson, asking the teacher if they can be his partner or help him when he has trouble. Even better, it's the kids who don't go out of their way for Jayson - they just treat him like any other normal third grader, talking about sports or playing tag or eating lunch with him.
And there's plenty of villagers to be found outside of school. There's his karate Sensei, a large man who could kill me with his thumbs, who has taught Jayson karate since he was 5 years old. He has the patience of a saint and has worked absolute miracles with Jayson's focusing skills. It's the football coach that knew right away that Jayson wasn't going to be a star player, but made sure he had a terrific experience at every practice and game. It's Erik's friend, Tyler, who owns deer hunting land down state, and often invites Erik and Jayson down for some "guy time", know how much Jayson LOVES climbing into the deer blinds and target shooting with bb guns. It's everyone at our church, who have known Jayson since he was born, and have accepted him without judgement, providing him with such a comfortable environment that he FINALLY has started going to Sunday school and has even shown interest in taking his First Communion. It's the families of all the girls on my daughter's skating team, who see him at the rink and even stay overnight with him at competitions, who readily accept him and never give him strange looks. It's their sons, who swim with him at the hotels we stay at, and provide such wonderful social models. It's my good friends, some of whom understand better than others what it's like to struggle with a child who is "different", who make him AND me feel relaxed and accepted. It's my neighbor's son, a high schooler, who knows Jayson idolizes him and always takes time out of his very busy schedule to spend time with him, or just say hello. Actually, it's all three of my neighbor's kids, who have never given off the vibe that they don't want him around - they always include him and accept him. And it's my family, who through the years have supported him and rooted for him at every single turn. I used to get frustrated with my family, who used to insist on how normal Jayson was. I always wanted to scream "No!! Stop pretending like everything is OK!!". But now I'm so very grateful for their attitudes. I never have to worry about what Jayson will say (or not say), or do (or not do) around my family. They always provide unconditional acceptance.
I'm sure I'm forgetting plenty of villagers, but Jayson is so blessed to have every single one of them in his life. It is because of them that he is doing so well, and growing up to be such a neat boy. Jayson's village is raising him up and guiding him well. There have been (and will be) many times when some villagers try to bring Jayson down. But thankfully those villagers are in the minority, vastly outnumbered by those who go out of their way to make him succeed.
And let's not forget that we are ALL villagers in each others lives. Our actions and words have profound effects on everyone around us. What kind of citizens do we want to be? Let's be productive ones. Let's all do our best to raise each other up, instead of tearing each other down. It takes a village to raise a child, but it takes all kinds to make a village. Let's make our villages great ones.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
My Own Parenting Gut Check...
As many of my friends know, my family has eagerly been awaiting the birth of my sister's second baby girl. Thanks to a well-timed day off from school, the kids and I were able to travel to Iowa Monday night and Tuesday and be there for the birth of little Betsy Lou. In fact, Jayson was the third family member to hold her, after her Mom and Dad. Betsy is happy and healthy and my sister can finally get on the road to recovery, since pregnancy was not very nice to her body this time around. There is nothing like a new baby. You sit there in the hospital and behold this little miracle, marveling at the fact that just hours ago she was curled up inside another human being. You ogle at every yawn, every little grunt, every little peek of the eyes. New babies hold so much hope and promise because you truly have before you a blank slate. To put it more bluntly - you haven't had a chance to screw them up yet.
I think I had about 3 hours after Katy was born where I could have been considered a perfect parent. I was still a little shell shocked, but managed to handle my first nursing feeding with aplomb. I changed her first poopy diaper like a pro, snuggled with her for awhile, and then sent her off to the nursery so they could clean her off, run some tests, and do whatever else they do in there. By the time they brought her back to me later that evening I was already a complete mess. I was a panicked new mom who became anxious over EVERYTHING. I worried about sleep schedule, feeding schedule and getting enough bonding time - mind you, I worried incessantly about this while STILL IN THE HOSPITAL! You can only imagine my anxiety level when I brought her home. Fast forward nearly 4 years and I remember thinking things would be different when Jayson was born. I knew what to do with a new baby so the second time around would go smoothly, right? Wrong. I was as panicked as ever, this time worrying not only about the new baby's schedule, but how I was going to turn little Katy's life upside down. In my early years as a parent, I truly did not have any confidence in myself. I loved my children more than anything, but was convinced I was doing a terrible job and ruining them every step of the way.
Ironically, it has been my more challenging child that has helped me gain a bit more confidence in my parenting. Yes he has autism, and yes he has social struggles, but many of the decisions Erik and I have made in parenting him have really paid off. We keep his home a calm place, don't overload him with too much madness, keep his routines as normal as possible, instill in him a strong school work ethic, introduce new experiences like sports and camp, and carefully surround him with nice kids who can be good social models and treat him kindly. At nearly 8 1/2 years old, Jayson is doing better than I ever though he would. I still wish I could sit and have deeper and more meaningful conversations with him, but perhaps that will come with time. I think our genuine love and acceptance of Jayson has been the best parenting strategy.
Even more ironically, it is the OTHER child - the straight A, sweet, caring, kind, helpful daughter that most often causes me to have some parenting gut checks. On the surface, Katy makes me look like a complete parenting success. She is smart, and very successful in school. She is sweet and shy and virtually never sasses me or acts inappropriately. But I look at her and see a very big way my parenting has negatively impacted her - Katy lacks confidence in herself and is an incessant worrier - everything makes her anxious. I truly believe she got that vibe from me from a very early age. My anxiousness made her anxious. My worrying caused her to worry. My lack of confidence in me caused her to doubt herself.
I think I always knew this in the back of my mind, but I really thought a lot about it on the drive home from Iowa yesterday. Fresh off our hospital visit and snuggles with her new baby cousin, Katy asked me all kinds of questions about what it was like when she was born and what it's like to be a new mom. I told her about all the magic and wonder, but also admitted to her my struggles. As I told her how anxious and worried I was I admitted that I now feel like a fool for doubting myself so much. I told her how I wished I had believed in myself more. And then I turned it around and told her that I wanted HER to believe in herself more. I implored her not to make my same mistakes. I tried to show her that a lot of her anxiousness stems from me, which in turn should make it easier for her to disown. It was a good conversation, and another example of how admitting and examining our own faults makes us stronger and better.
So I encourage everyone to do the occasional "gut check". Are there things you are doing (or not doing) as a parent that you know might affect your kids? It's more than OK if there are - none of us are perfect and we all make mistakes. But the biggest mistake of them all is ignoring it and never admitting it. Let's teach our kids that gut checks are a good way to recalibrate yourself, and that you are never too old face mistakes. After you do that, go and look at pictures of my new niece. She's adorable...
I think I had about 3 hours after Katy was born where I could have been considered a perfect parent. I was still a little shell shocked, but managed to handle my first nursing feeding with aplomb. I changed her first poopy diaper like a pro, snuggled with her for awhile, and then sent her off to the nursery so they could clean her off, run some tests, and do whatever else they do in there. By the time they brought her back to me later that evening I was already a complete mess. I was a panicked new mom who became anxious over EVERYTHING. I worried about sleep schedule, feeding schedule and getting enough bonding time - mind you, I worried incessantly about this while STILL IN THE HOSPITAL! You can only imagine my anxiety level when I brought her home. Fast forward nearly 4 years and I remember thinking things would be different when Jayson was born. I knew what to do with a new baby so the second time around would go smoothly, right? Wrong. I was as panicked as ever, this time worrying not only about the new baby's schedule, but how I was going to turn little Katy's life upside down. In my early years as a parent, I truly did not have any confidence in myself. I loved my children more than anything, but was convinced I was doing a terrible job and ruining them every step of the way.
Ironically, it has been my more challenging child that has helped me gain a bit more confidence in my parenting. Yes he has autism, and yes he has social struggles, but many of the decisions Erik and I have made in parenting him have really paid off. We keep his home a calm place, don't overload him with too much madness, keep his routines as normal as possible, instill in him a strong school work ethic, introduce new experiences like sports and camp, and carefully surround him with nice kids who can be good social models and treat him kindly. At nearly 8 1/2 years old, Jayson is doing better than I ever though he would. I still wish I could sit and have deeper and more meaningful conversations with him, but perhaps that will come with time. I think our genuine love and acceptance of Jayson has been the best parenting strategy.
Even more ironically, it is the OTHER child - the straight A, sweet, caring, kind, helpful daughter that most often causes me to have some parenting gut checks. On the surface, Katy makes me look like a complete parenting success. She is smart, and very successful in school. She is sweet and shy and virtually never sasses me or acts inappropriately. But I look at her and see a very big way my parenting has negatively impacted her - Katy lacks confidence in herself and is an incessant worrier - everything makes her anxious. I truly believe she got that vibe from me from a very early age. My anxiousness made her anxious. My worrying caused her to worry. My lack of confidence in me caused her to doubt herself.
I think I always knew this in the back of my mind, but I really thought a lot about it on the drive home from Iowa yesterday. Fresh off our hospital visit and snuggles with her new baby cousin, Katy asked me all kinds of questions about what it was like when she was born and what it's like to be a new mom. I told her about all the magic and wonder, but also admitted to her my struggles. As I told her how anxious and worried I was I admitted that I now feel like a fool for doubting myself so much. I told her how I wished I had believed in myself more. And then I turned it around and told her that I wanted HER to believe in herself more. I implored her not to make my same mistakes. I tried to show her that a lot of her anxiousness stems from me, which in turn should make it easier for her to disown. It was a good conversation, and another example of how admitting and examining our own faults makes us stronger and better.
So I encourage everyone to do the occasional "gut check". Are there things you are doing (or not doing) as a parent that you know might affect your kids? It's more than OK if there are - none of us are perfect and we all make mistakes. But the biggest mistake of them all is ignoring it and never admitting it. Let's teach our kids that gut checks are a good way to recalibrate yourself, and that you are never too old face mistakes. After you do that, go and look at pictures of my new niece. She's adorable...
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
If You Don't Have Anything Nice to Say...
Since starting this blog about a year ago I have tried to put up 2 posts a month. I usually have a running list in my head of topics I want to cover and there is enough excitement in my life with 2 school age children that new topics usually pop into my head all the time.
Well, I must be in some kind of a funk this month because every time I sit down at the computer to write a blog post I find myself wanting to write a rant. I'm steaming about a few things right now and was considering airing it all out on the blog. After all, many bloggers do this and it's probably pretty cathartic. I have gone on mini-rants before, but the things bothering me right now are a little too personal. I'm not sure a public blog is the place to air that out. Sure this blog has been a great place for me to explore some of the big life questions I've wrestled with while turning 40. But perhaps one thing I've learned is when to shut my mouth.
Consider it shut for this month. I'm going to work on my anger, focus on the (many) positive things going on right now, and save my ranting for a more appropriate audience. Perhaps my next blog topic will be on something much less controversial - like politics.
Happy October, everyone.
Well, I must be in some kind of a funk this month because every time I sit down at the computer to write a blog post I find myself wanting to write a rant. I'm steaming about a few things right now and was considering airing it all out on the blog. After all, many bloggers do this and it's probably pretty cathartic. I have gone on mini-rants before, but the things bothering me right now are a little too personal. I'm not sure a public blog is the place to air that out. Sure this blog has been a great place for me to explore some of the big life questions I've wrestled with while turning 40. But perhaps one thing I've learned is when to shut my mouth.
Consider it shut for this month. I'm going to work on my anger, focus on the (many) positive things going on right now, and save my ranting for a more appropriate audience. Perhaps my next blog topic will be on something much less controversial - like politics.
Happy October, everyone.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Half Crazy: A Race Report, and Lessons Learned...
This past weekend my four friends and I ran the Quad Cities Half Marathon. I had been looking forward to this weekend for a long time. We had picked the race back in May because it took place in the home town of one of the girls, and also had the best free swag I've ever seen in a goodie bag (a shirt, running gloves, AND a cool fuel belt??? JACKPOT). We spent the entire summer training together and all those early mornings had really paid off. We were all much faster and stronger than we were just 6 months ago. Many of us were THIS CLOSE to breaking the 2 hour mark. All we needed was great weather, some race adrenaline, and a flat course.
Well, 2 out of 3 ain't bad. We drove the course the night before and checked out possible hills. I'm ashamed to say some curse words came out of my mouth as we looked at the first 4 miles. The hills were pretty imposing to me and, since I never train on hills, I tempered my expectations for a finish time and focused on our fun meal out. We all had a nice carby dinner at Noodles and Company and then went shopping for (what else?) more running clothes. The temperatures looked to be very cold in the morning so we wanted to be prepared with warmer gear. After a decent night's rest, we woke up at 5:00 and started getting ready. We wanted to get to the starting line early to find the 2 hour pacer guy. Basically, if you stuck with the pacer runner, you would be guaranteed to finish in under 2 hours.
The 2 hour pacer guy was named Kevin - he was a spry young kid in his 20's (ah, youth - 2 hours was probably slumming it for him). I introduced myself to him, but warned him that I might not be able to keep up. He was totally friendly and seemed like he would have been a lovely guy to run a race with. Unfortunately, all I saw was the back of Kevin's head as he sprinted up the first hill like it was a curb. Ugh. Well, goodbye Kevin and goodbye sub 2 hours (or so I thought). I took the first 4 miles easy, going slowly up and down each hill, as to not kill my knees and quad muscles. I wasn't wearing my Garmin watch because I've had much better success just listening to my body and figuring out what it can handle. My friend Julie ran with me for much of the first 9 miles or so, but after a few miles she refused to tell me our pace. I'm so glad she did that because I did so much better not knowing.
After 4 miles the course flattened out considerably. I was so glad I had taken those hills easy because I felt really good by mile 6. I put on my headphones, smiled at Julie (who was rocking that course in her Vibram toe shoes!), and decided it was time to run my own race. I knew I was going faster with each passing mile, but still had no idea what my pace was or what my finish time would be. After one last water break at mile 10, I steeled myself for the last 3 miles of the race. As I approached mile 11 1/2 I noticed a water station but knew I didn't need it. I was moving over to the left to give the other runners room, when low and behold, I saw a very familiar face holding a very familiar sign. It was Kevin. I had caught up to, and was going to pass, the 2 hour pacer guy. I screamed his name at the top of my lungs "KKKEEEVVVIIINNN!!!!" and blew past him. He cheered me on and said "Go Go! You can do it!!". At that point I knew I had a sub two finish in my grasp. Those last 2 1/2 miles were very fast and very, very hard. But as I ran down that last hill (Really? A hill at mile 13? Who does that? ) and turned the corner towards the finish line, I gave it every last thing I had in me. I saw the clock ahead of me hit 1:59:30 so I broke out in a full on sprint and crossed at 1:59:58. I had forgotten that my chip time would be less because it took a minute to even reach the starting line. My official finish time was 1:58:46. I had done it. My other friend set a PR with a 1:55 finish time, and yet another friend beat her last half marathon time by TWENTY minutes, crossing at 2:04. Quite an accomplishment.
My celebration was short lived, however. One of the girls in my group ended up in the medical tent and needed some serious attention. Thank goodness one of our friends came upon her right before the finish and helped her. While we sat in the medical area with her, I reflected on the race and some of the lighthearted and more serious lessons I learned while running the Quad Cities Half:
1. Friends rock - part of what I've come to love about my running is the friendships that have been created and cemented. All 5 of us run our long runs together and we usually pair up with someone during the week for the shorter runs. We are a goofy bunch that share at least one thing in common, whether it be our daughters on the skating team, our sons on the autism spectrum, or our love of knitting. We spent most of the weekend laughing and eating - what's better than that? I adore all these ladies and feel grateful that they want to hang with me!
2. Training pays off- All those early morning summer runs, all those miles that I pushed the pace just a little bit, all the changes I made with my eating - it paid off in spades. I wasn't sure I could do a sub 2 race, and in fact my fastest training run had me on pace to finish at 2:03. But the training prepared my body and the adrenaline of race day pushed me just one last bit further. Trust the training!
3. But things can go wrong even if you do everything right. Unfortunately, some times you can train and train and then the unforeseen happens. Perhaps you turn your ankle the day before the race. Perhaps you come down with stomach flu. In the case of my friend, we think an allergy medicine she took the night before may have dehydrated her more than she realized, causing her to break down on the course. The scariest illustration of this lesson came while we were in the medical room with our friend. While we sat and kept her company, they wheeled in a 24 year old woman who's heart had stopped beating. While they performed CPR and literally shocked her with paddles, her friend was sobbing at her side and telling the doctors that they had trained and eaten well the day before. Their 12 miler just 2 weeks before had gone perfectly. She had never had any health problems before that day. 24 years old. I don't even know what ended up happening to that poor girl. Treasure your health and be grateful for every run that your body allows you to do safely. Be smart and take care of yourself the very best you can, and pray that nothing else goes wrong.
4. Running is a gift. Now I don't mean that I'm gifted at running. Quite the contrary, actually. I just look back at the last 2 years and realize all the joy I have found in something I never thought I could do. While I ran along the Mississippi river this weekend I soaked in all the beauty of my surroundings. I saw people on the course that inspired the heck out of me - whether it was the senior citizen who I literally COULD NOT CATCH the entire race, or the very overweight man who kept going on his leg of the marathon relay, even though he was clearly struggling, or my one of my very own friends, who carried our other friend across the line. There is a lot of humanity in running, and there is so much beauty to be found. I am grateful my body can do this right now, and hope it will continue for many years to come.
I'll carry these lessons with me into my next running journey. Training for marathon #2 begins December 11. The Road Whorriers will be running the Martian Marathon in Dearborn, Michigan on April 13. Bring it!!
Well, 2 out of 3 ain't bad. We drove the course the night before and checked out possible hills. I'm ashamed to say some curse words came out of my mouth as we looked at the first 4 miles. The hills were pretty imposing to me and, since I never train on hills, I tempered my expectations for a finish time and focused on our fun meal out. We all had a nice carby dinner at Noodles and Company and then went shopping for (what else?) more running clothes. The temperatures looked to be very cold in the morning so we wanted to be prepared with warmer gear. After a decent night's rest, we woke up at 5:00 and started getting ready. We wanted to get to the starting line early to find the 2 hour pacer guy. Basically, if you stuck with the pacer runner, you would be guaranteed to finish in under 2 hours.
The 2 hour pacer guy was named Kevin - he was a spry young kid in his 20's (ah, youth - 2 hours was probably slumming it for him). I introduced myself to him, but warned him that I might not be able to keep up. He was totally friendly and seemed like he would have been a lovely guy to run a race with. Unfortunately, all I saw was the back of Kevin's head as he sprinted up the first hill like it was a curb. Ugh. Well, goodbye Kevin and goodbye sub 2 hours (or so I thought). I took the first 4 miles easy, going slowly up and down each hill, as to not kill my knees and quad muscles. I wasn't wearing my Garmin watch because I've had much better success just listening to my body and figuring out what it can handle. My friend Julie ran with me for much of the first 9 miles or so, but after a few miles she refused to tell me our pace. I'm so glad she did that because I did so much better not knowing.
After 4 miles the course flattened out considerably. I was so glad I had taken those hills easy because I felt really good by mile 6. I put on my headphones, smiled at Julie (who was rocking that course in her Vibram toe shoes!), and decided it was time to run my own race. I knew I was going faster with each passing mile, but still had no idea what my pace was or what my finish time would be. After one last water break at mile 10, I steeled myself for the last 3 miles of the race. As I approached mile 11 1/2 I noticed a water station but knew I didn't need it. I was moving over to the left to give the other runners room, when low and behold, I saw a very familiar face holding a very familiar sign. It was Kevin. I had caught up to, and was going to pass, the 2 hour pacer guy. I screamed his name at the top of my lungs "KKKEEEVVVIIINNN!!!!" and blew past him. He cheered me on and said "Go Go! You can do it!!". At that point I knew I had a sub two finish in my grasp. Those last 2 1/2 miles were very fast and very, very hard. But as I ran down that last hill (Really? A hill at mile 13? Who does that? ) and turned the corner towards the finish line, I gave it every last thing I had in me. I saw the clock ahead of me hit 1:59:30 so I broke out in a full on sprint and crossed at 1:59:58. I had forgotten that my chip time would be less because it took a minute to even reach the starting line. My official finish time was 1:58:46. I had done it. My other friend set a PR with a 1:55 finish time, and yet another friend beat her last half marathon time by TWENTY minutes, crossing at 2:04. Quite an accomplishment.
My celebration was short lived, however. One of the girls in my group ended up in the medical tent and needed some serious attention. Thank goodness one of our friends came upon her right before the finish and helped her. While we sat in the medical area with her, I reflected on the race and some of the lighthearted and more serious lessons I learned while running the Quad Cities Half:
1. Friends rock - part of what I've come to love about my running is the friendships that have been created and cemented. All 5 of us run our long runs together and we usually pair up with someone during the week for the shorter runs. We are a goofy bunch that share at least one thing in common, whether it be our daughters on the skating team, our sons on the autism spectrum, or our love of knitting. We spent most of the weekend laughing and eating - what's better than that? I adore all these ladies and feel grateful that they want to hang with me!
2. Training pays off- All those early morning summer runs, all those miles that I pushed the pace just a little bit, all the changes I made with my eating - it paid off in spades. I wasn't sure I could do a sub 2 race, and in fact my fastest training run had me on pace to finish at 2:03. But the training prepared my body and the adrenaline of race day pushed me just one last bit further. Trust the training!
3. But things can go wrong even if you do everything right. Unfortunately, some times you can train and train and then the unforeseen happens. Perhaps you turn your ankle the day before the race. Perhaps you come down with stomach flu. In the case of my friend, we think an allergy medicine she took the night before may have dehydrated her more than she realized, causing her to break down on the course. The scariest illustration of this lesson came while we were in the medical room with our friend. While we sat and kept her company, they wheeled in a 24 year old woman who's heart had stopped beating. While they performed CPR and literally shocked her with paddles, her friend was sobbing at her side and telling the doctors that they had trained and eaten well the day before. Their 12 miler just 2 weeks before had gone perfectly. She had never had any health problems before that day. 24 years old. I don't even know what ended up happening to that poor girl. Treasure your health and be grateful for every run that your body allows you to do safely. Be smart and take care of yourself the very best you can, and pray that nothing else goes wrong.
4. Running is a gift. Now I don't mean that I'm gifted at running. Quite the contrary, actually. I just look back at the last 2 years and realize all the joy I have found in something I never thought I could do. While I ran along the Mississippi river this weekend I soaked in all the beauty of my surroundings. I saw people on the course that inspired the heck out of me - whether it was the senior citizen who I literally COULD NOT CATCH the entire race, or the very overweight man who kept going on his leg of the marathon relay, even though he was clearly struggling, or my one of my very own friends, who carried our other friend across the line. There is a lot of humanity in running, and there is so much beauty to be found. I am grateful my body can do this right now, and hope it will continue for many years to come.
I'll carry these lessons with me into my next running journey. Training for marathon #2 begins December 11. The Road Whorriers will be running the Martian Marathon in Dearborn, Michigan on April 13. Bring it!!
Monday, September 10, 2012
The End of an Era...
My younger sister is due with her second child in about 6 weeks. It's been fun listening to her pregnancy stories and talking about the new baby that's on the way. She came to visit with her 15th month old over the summer and Erik and I had a blast watching little Ellis and remembering what our kids were like at that age. I have to say it made me wistful. I remember the magic of being pregnant and all the excitement that came with it. There is a sense of endless possibilities, as you dream about what your child will be like and what he or she will become, and what your family will grow to be like. Then they are born and you brave the initial months of sleepless nights and utter exhaustion and are rewarded with sweet smiles, cuddles, and then first words, first steps, and the joy of watching your child figure out the world during the toddler years and crack you up during the pre school years. For many of us, we are blessed to have more than one child and can enjoy these phases more than once.
After Jayson was born I didn't think I would have any more but I certainly kept the option open. I was only 32 years of age and felt like I had all the time in the world. By the time he was 3 and 4 years old and the full extent of his special needs began to hit us, I mentally closed the door on more children for good. I simply didn't think I could ever handle another child's needs on top of Jayson's (and Katy's). Fast forward 4 more years and not only are Katy and Jayson doing pretty well, but both just swooned over having their baby cousin Ellis come to stay. One day, Jayson asked, "Mom, when are you going to have another baby so I can be a big brother?". I kind of brushed off his comment until later that night when Erik, after watching Ellis toddle around the house, commented "I know it's just crazy talk but don't you think it would be fun to go back to the circus one more time? Heck, we'd probably be better at it now and do a great job." He was only half serious, but it begged the question: Are Erik and I really ready to say a permanent goodbye to that stage of parenthood?
It seems like it would be an easy decision, but anything that permanent is hard to swallow. No more babies, EVER? No more toothless smiles, funny toddler sayings, first days of preschool - EVER? It's a hard thing to say goodbye to because it's such a magical time. But I'm finding that there is a heck of a lot of magic in the new phase of parenthood (later childhood and adolescence) as well. I find myself marveling at Katy now just as often as I did when she was 2. I love watching how she works through things in her head, how she handles friendships, how she finds her sense of humor, and how she slowly begins to shape her own identity. It's a marvel to behold. And I seem to have blinked and missed something because somehow my son seems to be growing up as well. He spends just as much time telling me he wants to do things by himself ("Don't help me, Mom!") as he does asking me for snacks (he still can't slice up his own apples). He still struggles tremendously with social issues, but sometimes I catch just a little glimpse of what he's going to be like when he gets a little older and it's truly exciting. And every new experience gobsmacks me - whether it's joining a football team, or telling me with absolute certainty that he will be going to sleepaway camp in Michigan with Katy this summer. He transitioned into 3rd grade with nary a problem and seems to be handling his busier than usual schedule with ease. I'm having a heck of a good time watching both my kids figure it all out.
And the bonus? It's been lovely to realize that this new phase for the children translates into a new phase for my marriage. We have a little more freedom and flexibility than we've had for the last 12 years. Our date nights of pizza and a rented movie were great, but it's even nicer to enjoy our increasing opportunities for dates outside the walls of our house. Thankfully, we still really enjoy each others company after all these years. The kids keep us busy, but it's a different kind of busy. And I think Erik and I have always done a good job of keeping our marriage at the center of things.
So I will delight in the birth of my new niece, and continue to crack up over Ellis's toddler escapades - but only as an Aunt. In my own family, it's time to squarely plant my feet in the next stage of life. Yet another reason I'm really loving my 40's!
After Jayson was born I didn't think I would have any more but I certainly kept the option open. I was only 32 years of age and felt like I had all the time in the world. By the time he was 3 and 4 years old and the full extent of his special needs began to hit us, I mentally closed the door on more children for good. I simply didn't think I could ever handle another child's needs on top of Jayson's (and Katy's). Fast forward 4 more years and not only are Katy and Jayson doing pretty well, but both just swooned over having their baby cousin Ellis come to stay. One day, Jayson asked, "Mom, when are you going to have another baby so I can be a big brother?". I kind of brushed off his comment until later that night when Erik, after watching Ellis toddle around the house, commented "I know it's just crazy talk but don't you think it would be fun to go back to the circus one more time? Heck, we'd probably be better at it now and do a great job." He was only half serious, but it begged the question: Are Erik and I really ready to say a permanent goodbye to that stage of parenthood?
It seems like it would be an easy decision, but anything that permanent is hard to swallow. No more babies, EVER? No more toothless smiles, funny toddler sayings, first days of preschool - EVER? It's a hard thing to say goodbye to because it's such a magical time. But I'm finding that there is a heck of a lot of magic in the new phase of parenthood (later childhood and adolescence) as well. I find myself marveling at Katy now just as often as I did when she was 2. I love watching how she works through things in her head, how she handles friendships, how she finds her sense of humor, and how she slowly begins to shape her own identity. It's a marvel to behold. And I seem to have blinked and missed something because somehow my son seems to be growing up as well. He spends just as much time telling me he wants to do things by himself ("Don't help me, Mom!") as he does asking me for snacks (he still can't slice up his own apples). He still struggles tremendously with social issues, but sometimes I catch just a little glimpse of what he's going to be like when he gets a little older and it's truly exciting. And every new experience gobsmacks me - whether it's joining a football team, or telling me with absolute certainty that he will be going to sleepaway camp in Michigan with Katy this summer. He transitioned into 3rd grade with nary a problem and seems to be handling his busier than usual schedule with ease. I'm having a heck of a good time watching both my kids figure it all out.
And the bonus? It's been lovely to realize that this new phase for the children translates into a new phase for my marriage. We have a little more freedom and flexibility than we've had for the last 12 years. Our date nights of pizza and a rented movie were great, but it's even nicer to enjoy our increasing opportunities for dates outside the walls of our house. Thankfully, we still really enjoy each others company after all these years. The kids keep us busy, but it's a different kind of busy. And I think Erik and I have always done a good job of keeping our marriage at the center of things.
So I will delight in the birth of my new niece, and continue to crack up over Ellis's toddler escapades - but only as an Aunt. In my own family, it's time to squarely plant my feet in the next stage of life. Yet another reason I'm really loving my 40's!
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Hitting My Stride
So I've been working hard on changing my running form lately. Some of you may have seen me around town wearing these absolutely ridiculous looking Vibram shoes (they look like gloves for your feet - with toes and everything. Gross.). I've been wearing them to strengthen my calf muscles and achilles tendons and to start forcing me to land on the balls of my feet when I run and walk. You see, most of us who have been wearing supportive and cushiony shoes our whole lives have developed a heel to toe running gait. Over time, this puts tremendous stress on your knees and hips and promotes injury. Apparently, striking the pavement with your forefoot first is what your body wants to do naturally. By developing a mid foot strike, I will most likely greatly reduce my aches and pains and be able to continue running injury free for a good, long time (after all, I have a good shot of winning my age group in a marathon some day if I'm the only 80 year old that signed up!).
But you know what? It's hard to change my habits. I've been running in my beloved Brooks Glycerins with all their cushioned glory for almost a year now. They carried me through a 1/2 marathon, 500 miles of marathon training, the marathon itself, and most of my summer running. I've felt comfortable with my heel to toe running form and I've been pretty successful and injury free, so why change? If it aint broke, don't fix it, right??
But therein lies the problem. Sometimes we don't know things are broken until it's too late. We develop habits and routines in life that carry us through "just fine" and we continue to muddle through day after day, year after year. We do it with our eating, our parenting, our friendships, our jobs, our spending habits, our interactions with others, our political views, and our world views. We can go on for years believing that everything is working for us just fine, ignoring those tiny little twinges of discomfort that pop up in the background. Then we begin to hear alternative ways of doing things, and of thinking about things and we put our hands over our ears and say "No thanks, I have it all figured out!" And we refuse to even listen to other ideas - because it's so hard to even consider the fact that we might be "doing it wrong".
Well I"m not afraid to listen to other ideas and theories. And at 40 years old I'm confident enough in myself to discern which ideas are worth consideration and which ideas are absolute bunk. But we are missing out on personal growth if we keep putting our hands over our ears, blocking out the rest of the world, and never even considering the viewpoints of others. I'm sure I'll see a lot of this play out on Facebook as the fall Presidential election gets closer.
I remember seeing a barefoot runner at my first half marathon. I thought this girl was an absolute loon as she patiently explained to me why running barefoot was actually better for your body. I dismissed her almost immediately and inwardly rolled my eyes. Now almost a year later I'm warming to the ideas behind barefoot running and going shopping for my first pair of minimalist running shoes (because hell will literally freeze over before you see me out there in actual bare feet. Ugh!). You see? It's never too late to consider ideas different from your own. And who knows? You may just end up in better shape for it. So in the mean time I'll continue to work on the new running form, and continue to work on hitting my stride - both on the road and off of it...
But you know what? It's hard to change my habits. I've been running in my beloved Brooks Glycerins with all their cushioned glory for almost a year now. They carried me through a 1/2 marathon, 500 miles of marathon training, the marathon itself, and most of my summer running. I've felt comfortable with my heel to toe running form and I've been pretty successful and injury free, so why change? If it aint broke, don't fix it, right??
But therein lies the problem. Sometimes we don't know things are broken until it's too late. We develop habits and routines in life that carry us through "just fine" and we continue to muddle through day after day, year after year. We do it with our eating, our parenting, our friendships, our jobs, our spending habits, our interactions with others, our political views, and our world views. We can go on for years believing that everything is working for us just fine, ignoring those tiny little twinges of discomfort that pop up in the background. Then we begin to hear alternative ways of doing things, and of thinking about things and we put our hands over our ears and say "No thanks, I have it all figured out!" And we refuse to even listen to other ideas - because it's so hard to even consider the fact that we might be "doing it wrong".
Well I"m not afraid to listen to other ideas and theories. And at 40 years old I'm confident enough in myself to discern which ideas are worth consideration and which ideas are absolute bunk. But we are missing out on personal growth if we keep putting our hands over our ears, blocking out the rest of the world, and never even considering the viewpoints of others. I'm sure I'll see a lot of this play out on Facebook as the fall Presidential election gets closer.
I remember seeing a barefoot runner at my first half marathon. I thought this girl was an absolute loon as she patiently explained to me why running barefoot was actually better for your body. I dismissed her almost immediately and inwardly rolled my eyes. Now almost a year later I'm warming to the ideas behind barefoot running and going shopping for my first pair of minimalist running shoes (because hell will literally freeze over before you see me out there in actual bare feet. Ugh!). You see? It's never too late to consider ideas different from your own. And who knows? You may just end up in better shape for it. So in the mean time I'll continue to work on the new running form, and continue to work on hitting my stride - both on the road and off of it...
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