Taking the plunge

I finally did it. Last week I registered (aka: paid for) a full marathon. And I have about 17 weeks to prepare myself. I've been talking about doing it for so long that it's hard to believe I'm actually going to attempt it. But as I've been reflecting on running and this race and crossing another goal off of my '30' list, I've also been reminded of my first attempts at running.

I read an article today recounting a runner's first experience on the pavement. It was beautiful, but unfortunately, I can't remember my very first experience. Being active in athletics in the small high school I attended, I would imagine it was quite a long time ago...way before I could appreciate it.

But I do remember my first steps after having my son. I was overweight by upwards of 50 pounds. I was ashamed to put on my lycra running pants. Even more when I stepped outside and took the first few steps. I could feel the extra tire or two around my waist. Bouncing with me as I trudged down our main street. It was the first time I realized that you could actually feel your fat responding to physical activity. The entire midsection of my body seemed to working a half step behind me. It was up when my foot came down and vise versa. I just hoped that what I was feeling couldn't be seen by passersby.

I'm not sure I completed a mile at a time back then. But I do remember getting home, stripping down and realizing that my arms had been rubbed raw by my extra-large, post-baby chest. It was all the motivation I needed to get up the next day and face my body fat that seemed to be taunting me. Reminding me that it was fighting like hell to stay there, weighing me down both emotionally and physically.

Just a few weeks later, I had invited my parents up to my first road race. I wore all black. And I struggled through the 5k. I'm ashamed to see those pictures even today, but they were proud and my husband was excited for me. And what followed was a series of road races. Each a testament to my dedication and desire to look and feel better the older I become.

Four years and another child later, I'm still running. Sure, I'm still chasing that goal weight but today it's more about staying healthy and instilling an appreciation for physical activity in my children.

Let's just hope I'm still feeling this way on Mile 24 in September...

Honesty comes with a price.

Earlier this week a good friend of mine brought up the idea of game changers. The idea that at certain times in our lives, we should make a decision that changes the course of our lives in some way, it can be major or seemingly small but a change none the less. At the time, I took it with a grain of salt but the conversation's been haunting me for the last several days.

The conversation led me to discovering a journal, my first journal (1993). I skimmed the pages and like my other journals, much of the content was about who I was dating or trying to date...adolescence is so crazy. Ultimately, that find led me to re-discovering a Dr. Phil workbook I had purchased during college. It was something about helping to realize how the decisions you've made and the people in your life have helped you get to this point in your life. And of course, how to unravel the mess and clear your plate.

I quickly realized that I had only gotten through two or three of the exercises before jumping ship. But one gem, the first exercise, caught my eye. It was my life history in a story format. In it, I discussed how I always felt like my father was never proud of me. He always wanted more, expected more and was always disappointed. And I had felt like the decisions I made in my life, the person I was trying to become, was solely to make him proud-and earn his unconditional love.

The strange part is that in a list-making journal I wrote in a year or so after that Dr. Phil thing, I had made a list about things I love about my dad. The first was that he's forgiving and loves me regardless of my downfalls.

So which entry was honest? I've been trying to figure that out all day and I've got to admit, I'm pretty perplexed. But I do wonder if I've always used my relationships with boys and men as a cover. A way to avoid having to confront the feelings I had/have for my father. Or as a way to try and find whatever sort of approval and acceptance I was so desperately trying to gain.

Because in all honesty, I feel myself craving and striving for approval and acceptance from my spouse. So the big question here is: as we grow and mature, do we ever fully grow out of who we were as a child?

I'm becoming more and more doubtful.

The results are in...

Just to follow up with my previous post: the race was awesome. The weather was perfect. I was in the zone. My hips and knees seemed to understand that I was on a mission and they were in full compliance. While I didn't break any world records, I did break my own personal record and felt great afterward (which makes me wonder if I pushed myself hard enough)...












Wouldn't quite classify myself as a real runner yet but I'm re-energized and feeling ready to take the plunge and give 26.2 a shot.

For the time being, my stress level is low and I'm just waiting for things to overload again.

Self-imposed stress...created here daily.

I'd like to claim that I'm a laid back, hip mom. Truth is, my stomach's in knots more often than not. I can tell myself all day every day to relax and take things as they come but honestly, that's just a lot of mumbo jumbo happening in my head all day. It's amazing I ever accomplish anything.

Of course there's the constant balance of being a mom, wife, employee, banker, housekeeper, etc. And then there are the 'me' items on my list, and one in particular is staring me down this week.

The half-marathon. (insert deep, painful sigh)

My third, you'd think I'd be over it. I trained okay. I'm in less pain then last year. And I know how much I love the atmosphere. But at the end of the day, it's still 13.1 miles. It's still this battle between my body then and my body now. The decent athlete turned mom with weak knees and hips.

I want so badly to be a runner. To know what it's like to be so passionate and dedicated to the sport that if I miss a run, I feel terrible about it all day and run extra long to make up for it the next. To be apart of this strange and fun group of people who do things a little differently. Who spend more money on their running gear than professional wardrobe.

I'm not there yet but hopefully one of these days I'll find a good balance. Whether that's a solid three miles or six, I should just be thankful that my body's still going. There are so many reasons I should be thankful for the opportunity to run a half marathon and yet my heads got me all worked up and worried about beating a time or looking strong or not walking.

Just another example of us being our own worst enemies.

What's your brand?

I've been in advertising for awhile now. And I think I have a pretty good handle on what branding is and isn't. I've also been hearing and reading a lot about personal branding. That maybe we should each examine ourselves as a brand. But then there are those who believe there should be separation between who you are as a professional vs. who you are as an individual. I have to admit, I've been on the fence.

As a writer...advertising or not...I believe that bits and pieces of me are brought out in my writing. I think what we write and how we write it says a lot about who we are, period. And I'm beginning to cherish that. I have a friend who has told me time and again that it doesn't really matter if you're wrong, just believe and do something all the way and stick to your guns. Because it's so much better to have a stance than to not have one at all.

Phase I for me and branding myself is in the works. I will be launching a website for myself that brings my personal and professional life together. Because I'm just about as passionate about what I do from 8-5 as I am for life during the other hours of each day. My profession is also very personal to me. So I'm going to let it all hang out...love me or hate me for it...or just ignore it. It's your choice but my hope is that it'll help me open the door to those goals I've been reluctant to pursue.

Stay tuned.

Defining 'til death'

As I've mentioned before, my husband and I have been married for five years. The first year was super-rocky for several reasons. First, we didn't live together before we got married. And, surprise, I got pregnant in our third month of marriage. I became a step mom. Oh, and did I mention that we bought a house three weeks before our wedding? Anyway, it was rough.

I've always told my friends and family that I believed the first year would be our hardest. And in many ways it was. I had a lot of growing up to do that year. I had to re-assign my priorities. And I had to learn how to truly share.

Today, we still have that house. We've added another baby to the family. My step-daughter is nearing 17 and seeing her is almost impossible. I've added a few side jobs to my resume. And my husband has finally decided to figure out what it is he's supposed to be doing with his life. Needless to say, our fifth year is turning out to be pretty darn challenging.

The good news is that when we sit down and finally focus on us, there's still that youthful, genuine love for one another. If I look hard enough, I can see those two people we were five years ago. And sometimes it's exactly what I need to remind myself that all of this is worth it. That this little life we've created is our own version of the American Dream. And I'm suddenly re-energized to fight like hell to hold on to it.

Age is haunting me.

I finally got down to business and signed up for the Lincoln Half Marathon. Everything was going smoothly until I got to the 'age the day of the race' portion. To be completely honest, I had a hard time writing 3-0. I don't feel what I expect 30 to feel like. Well, except maybe for the wrinkles that keep appearing and the dark circles and the overall lack of energy I have...but really, I'm 22 max.

Seriously though, I'm not all that concerned with how I look as I get older. It's more the goals or dreams I've had. Brief thoughts or bygone resolutions. I always feel a little disappointed in myself when I realize that in my 30 glorious years, there are things I feel I should have accomplished already.

I'm sure it's something everyone goes through. I just hope I'm not too scared to pursue them now. It's not my kids, my job...my age...or my geography. It's all me. The world's biggest roadblock.

Maybe my road past 30 can include being confident. Or finding the confidence to pursue, 100%, some of the things I've put on the sidelines.

Failure is after all, just a learning experience, right?!