stop

When you’re halfway finished with your run and your child all of a sudden tries to sit up in the stroller and begins pointing, asking to get out to touch dead leaves on a tree…what do you do? Dead leaves? Really??

I’ll tell you exactly what you do.

You stop.

You get out.

You touch the leaves.

And then do this.

And this.

Over and over and over again.

And then, once your curious child has had his need to learn and play and have fun doing important kid stuff met, then and only then, do you finish your run.

Because, you see, none of that would have ever happened “later.”

You’ll both return home happier and more fulfilled than if you had ignored his request and run on, past the trees and the water and the rocks. Past his desire to experience what he sees right in front of him, just begging to be explored.

In my pre-mommy life, I would have never stopped. NEVER. Not even to enjoy a simple, beautiful thing. I wouldn’t have even seen it, truthfully. My head would stay straight, my mind solely on the task at hand. Run first, relax later. Get the job done first. Don’t stop. That will make it take longer. Push through. Ignore. Just keep going.

Now? I stop. My runs are disjointed. They take longer or the route is cut short because it’s colder or windier than I had anticipated. Or Kellan needs something. Or dropped something.

Or he sees something that fascinates him to the point of doing everything he knows how to do to get my attention so I will stop and show him whatever it is that, at the current moment, is the coolest thing in the whole wide world.

I stop. Willingly. Happily. Unselfishly.

I’m building a relationship with this little person and I want him to know that his needs are important and that it is a good thing to stop. To take a minute – or 30 minutes – to learn about something we happen upon that was not on our original agenda.

Today was such an important reminder for me. I hope it is a good reminder for all the other parents, too.

Stop. Touch leaves. Throw rocks. Smell the roses.

the big 3-0

So…..my birthday is Saturday. Groundhog’s Day.

I’m going to be thirty.

3-0.

THIRTY.

It still hasn’t really sunk in, yet.

Once, a long time ago, I said I wanted to be finished having kids by now.

Obviously, that didn’t happen.

I did say that I would do a lot of things before 30.

And I have.

Marathons, traveling, getting married, moving across the country, having a kid, oh my!

But, being the list-type person that I am, I think I need to make another list…a before 40 list…

Suggestions?

Also? Please send everyone you know right to this spot to tell me thirty is the new awesome.

And I really would write more, but I’m currently off celebrating in style.

More on that later…

i’m judging you

Is it bad that I judge people based on their cars?

Wait. It’s deeper than that (not really, but let’s pretend).

If you have a sketchy looking beater car with dents and rust and scratches?

I am afraid of you.

Well, maybe bot afraid, per se, but I definitely give you a leery eye all, “I’m onto you.”

Lucky for me? There are two of these particular kinds of cars in our neighborhood. One with rust, one without. Both fitting the sketchy, you belong on CSI and not in the crime fighter type way description.

Every time Kellan and I go on a run (which hasn’t happen in awhile…no judgement…I’m already judging myself for you), I am terrified someone is going to jump out with a shank and rob me. Or something. Kind of pointless to rob a runner (“Give me your….your….hmm….your….damn….YOUR SHOES!…?”).

But that’s beside the point.

I give both cars the Bold eye (I learned from Tim. Ask him to do it for you sometime. You’ll turn to stone. Immediately.) because *if* anyone *is* in there or behind it or watching me?

I want them to know I mean business and my kid looks weak but he’ll kick the crap out of your balls…just ask my husband…AND I HAVE PEPPER SPRAY! SEE! SEE IT?!

And these people who own these cars?

They play right into the sterotype and park the things ON THE SIDE OF THE STREET instead of in the garage or the driveway.

So you can see my fear is totally founded in facts. Solid. Facts.

****BACK STORY****

I feel obligated, now, to say something else. I never grew up with new cars. We had this blue Toyota van that had zero air conditioner (hello, blistering hot Georgia summers and eight hour drives to Florida) and is actually probably still running, somewhere. That car WILL. NOT. DIE. After my mom finally decided to part ways with it, it went to someone else…and then someone else after that…and now it’ll probably end up in our driveway one day soon…like a lost dog finds it’s way…anyhow. *I* never had a new car, either. I had old cars. Used cars. Cars with 100k plus mileage on them by the time they made their way to me. So, I have nothing against keeping a car or having an old car. I just have issues with scary looking cars because I actually had one follow me during a run once and the giant dudes – three of them – inside were up to no good and let’s just say had I not had the wherewithal to dive into and hide in the bushes while they drove past me, at a snails pace, I might not be here right now, writing this.

****END BACK STORY****

Then, one day not too long ago, on our way home from a run, we met the owner of the non-rusty beater car while he was standing in the driveway coming at me with a shank retrieving a ping pong ball.

His young son was waiting in the garage behind a ping pong table.

The dude smiled and said hello.

I froze.

Do I smile? You have a kid! You are normal! And you are not scary!

BUT YOU HAVE A SKETCHY CAR!

My brain still isn’t even sure what to think about this whole “situation.”

I’m going to wrap Christmas presents now. That seems like a safe plan.

running. my therapy.

So glad it’s Friday. You’d think Friday wouldn’t mean much when you’re a mom…and it usually doesn’t, really…but today, for some reason, I’m happy. Friday. YAY.

Bufftober is almost over!

(I’m a poet and didn’t even know it)

We haven’t really said much about our buffness lately.

My buffness took a backseat yesterday due to snow and cold and running six days in a row.

I know.

Six whole days!

I don’t even remember the last time I did that. Sad.

Truthfully, I actually REALLY missed being outside running yesterday. And today. Today is colder than yesterday and I’m not sure I want to take Kellan out in it, yet. Maybe. We’ll see.

Even though I sometimes have to really psych myself up to actually get out and do it – because it takes a hell of a lot more effort than it used to, hello, also getting a little person ready, lugging the stroller outside, bundling up said little person, wait…do I smell a dirty diaper??…ad infinitum – I am always so glad when I’m almost done…on the last half mile or so…I just get a happy, peaceful feeling. Running is my therapy, I think. There is so much that happens in my life that I don’t share on this blog…SO much…and sometimes my only escape from some of those things is outside where there is endless openness. It helps me feel less weighted down. I need that. Crave it. Physically, mentally, emotionally crave it.

Running with Kellan. It’s like *me* time.

Kellan likes it, too. He’s pretty quiet for the most part, just looking at everything, taking it all in.

Sometimes he falls asleep. Usually he doesn’t.

But he is outside. That’s all that matters.

This kid would camp outside if we would let him…and if he could crawl…that’s also probably important.

Anyhow, I’m rambling.

Happy Weekend, friends!

This weekend is pumpkin carving madness. We bought two of the most giant pumpkins I have ever seen in my entire life.

And there is SO a plan for said giantness.

Pictures to follow…

the good kind of crazy

*SIGHHHHHHHHHH*

I’m not even sure how else to describe what I’m feeling.

My awesome bloggy friend, Jess, and her husband, just finished their very first marathon over the weekend (great job, guys!).

That’s 26.2 miles, by the way, all at one time, in case you weren’t sure how “far” a marathon actually is…

Their experience brought back so many memories of Tim and my first – and second – marathon. The training…the crazy, 3:00AM mornings when we would start our long runs because it was so blasted hot in Atlanta.

3:00AM was the only choice we had unless we wanted to melt into the pavement when the sun finally came up, thank you 80 degrees AT THREE IN THE MORNING with 80% humidity.

But…the actual races…the feeling of accomplishment afterwards…oh, the AFTERWARDS.

The first marathon “afterwards” was in Hawaii on the Big Island for Tim’s 40th birthday. Immediately after finishing the race, we had to walk – yes, WALK – about a mile back to our hotel and check out. Actually, Tim showered and then checked us out while I took a shower because they wouldn’t give us a late checkout. We finished about an hour later than we planned, thank you 80+ degree heat that we weren’t prepared for (note to everyone: never train for a summer marathon in the winter. Do it the other way around!).

Still, we finished. We were dying…but we finished.

The second? We flew home from Schroon Lake, NY the next day, packed up a few final things and then moved to Colorado a week later, so we didn’t have much time to dwell on WHAT NEXT?? because, um, moving across the country was next.

We were way happier at the finish, here. Obviously.

Both marathons hold a lot of significance, obviously.

Both took a ton of time, RE: training.

Both made me feel closer to Tim in a way I really cannot describe unless you’ve done something similar with your significant other. It changes you…in a good way…and the mutual suffering brings you closer in a way I cannot explain. It is completely different than childbirth – where I AM THE ONE DOING THE HARD PART and Tim is the cheerleader.

Childbirth and a marathon are not at all the same. I know people like to compare the two but, really, it is like comparing an octopus and an apple.

NO RELATION.

The bonding during and after childbirth is not the same, probably because Tim will never understand or relate to a baby appearing from the lady bits and also probably because you’re bonding with your new baby versus with each other.

But training for and running a marathon?

HE KNOWS.

We bonded over those miles. Stuck like glue.

Then, the feeling you get when you cross that finish line after months of training, days upon days of early morning runs and many, many moments where you have nothing left in the tank but keep going, anyway, and the suffering during the actual race – especially the last few miles…it is all so, so worth it at that final moment…even though you’re still in pain and your entire body hurts…once you cross that line…you know all of that sacrifice was worth it because you did it.

You beat those 26.2 miles into submission.

You are a marathoner and no one will ever be able to take that away from you.

Now, sadly, I will never get *that* feeling again with Tim. I mean, yes, I’m grateful that I was able to experience that bonding, period, with him, but it is a hard thing to swallow, knowing the farthest Tim and I will run together from now on is 13.1 miles.

No offense, half marathon, but you really aren’t *that* hard. You don’t hold the same kind of satisfaction.

Why?

Tim is done with 26.2. He did what he set out to do and has decided he’s not doing another one. Granted, the actual logistics of training for another marathon are near impossible right now with Kellan, but once he’s older…totally doable.

Except…I’ll be doing it all by my lonesome.

That is kind of sad.

Ok. I’m lying.

That is really sad.

I trained for my first marathon by myself and lemme tell you – it is WAY HARDER than training with someone by your side, step after step, mile after mile, early morning after early morning.

However, this is pretty much how it feels when you finish your first ever marathon, whether you train alone or not:

(Check out that old ipod shuffle! And I love the Cliff Shot Bloks hanging out of my pocket…they don’t come in packages like that anymore…)

Truly, I am mourning the fact that Tim will not be my long running partner anymore. It will be easier to accept over time…but right now?

Still raw.

Footnote: Most people think I am crazy because I like to put myself through this kind of torture for one day – one minute – of bliss.

You know, I probably am crazy.

I like to think of it as a good kind of crazy.

But that’s just me.

(Definite buffness on Monday and Tuesday in the firm of stroller jogging…even though Tuesday was freezing versus the crazy heat of Monday. Oh, Colorado…you are so bipolar sometimes…)

(How’s YOUR buffness going??)

where’s your buffness?

I lost my buffness over the weekend.

As in I was NOT buff.

As in no exercise.

Friday afternoon, we ventured out for a run but cut it short because it was FREEZING. Like, 30-something. Poor Kellan was decked out in a snowsuit that he couldn’t move in – at all – and he was not at all pleased with the outcome of that outfit situation – and the wind.

OMG. THE WIND.

It may have been 30-something but it probably felt like 20-something.

BRUTAL.

So, long story short, exercise pretty much ended for me Friday.

Not intentionally…

Tim hammered away putting shingles on a roof all day Saturday for Habitat for Humanity and it was cold and wet all day Saturday so…..yah. Nothing for me and Kellan, other than some consignment shopping where we scored a few Pottery Barn Kids quilts on the cheap! Good thing, because my plan for the quilts was to keep them in the car to put on the ground for Kellan to roll around on.

Sunday…..Tim was super sore from Saturday and I was worn out so what did we do?

Go to the pumpkin patch, of course!

We kept trying to get Kellan to look at the camera all, “Kellan! Kellan! Look! Kellan! How fun! Kellan! What did you find! Kellan!!!!!!!!”

Yah. That worked all of…not at all.

He was WAAAAAY too interested in the dirt and the pumpkin stuff to be bothered with looking at his crazy parents.

I’m trying to do better this with my buffness week. I’d love to tell you that I ran on Monday but as I write this…ON MONDAY at 11:52 AM,  I’ve yet to go running…maybe I’ll go when Kellan wakes up…we’ll see how I do.

(UPDATE: I ran. Three miles. It was HOT and OMG. THE WIND. AGAIN. Except this time it was like gale force…and it felt like I was pushing the stroller through pea soup)

I’m still standing by carrying Kellan around as exercise. Child is a LUG and wants me to take him everywhere he cannot go – yet. I’m actually really hoping he starts crawling soon because holy wow. This child wants to see and touch and play with everything he cannot reach.

Good thing he has another form of transportation, apparently.

bringing back the buff-tober

Remember years ago when I did Bufftober?

(**Disclaimer** Four letter word usage)

(If you’re still here since Bufftober, high five! Look how far we’ve come? Also? You deserve some kind of recognition…lemme check Pintrest and see what I can find…(the obsession is unhealthy. I know)).

Anyway, for everyone else, Bufftober was basically what it sounds like: Get fit (or at least start to) in the month of October. There are no real rules other than you’re supposed to exercise and eat (fairly) healthily. However you deem “exercise” and “healthy” is up to you, but it usually involves forgoing things like cookies and cupcakes and instead getting your sweat on in a variety of ways (running, walking, cycling spinning, weights, gym classes, yoga…).

You’re kind of supposed to carry the buffness past the 31 days…but who knows if that really ever happened originally (I’d guess the obvious answer to that is NO. WAS NOT CARRIED THROUGH)…point is, today Tim is starting a “Biggest Loser” contest at work and because actual money is involved, he’s bound and determined to win.

(So am I)

(For him to win, I mean)

(I’m not in the competition)

(Probably a good thing)

(I’m competitive to a fault, remember?)

(And I’m breast feeding)

(I digress)

We also decided to use this competition as a jumping off point to (finally) clean up our eating, get into a regular exercise groove and be good examples for Kellan in both arenas. The timing of this is perfect, since Kellan is juuuuust on the brink of wanting to really start eating *real* food and I would rather be able to give him a taste of whatever it is that I’m eating instead of being like, “Nope, sorry, kid. This is chocolate and you can’t have it…(but mommy can?)”

This is going to be super difficult at first, because I haven’t really cared much about what I’m eating (see above: breast feeding) but I’m excited to finally pay more attention and get back into my exercise groove that I totally lost post-baby (read: no sleep).

I’ve wanted to do this since forever, it seems, and I always told myself that I needed to make sure I had healthy (and realistic) habits to teach my (no longer future) children. I know that this needs to happen and I guess we’ve procrastinated long enough. My original *plan* was to have these healthy habits in place before pregnancy…then during pregnancy…then pregnancy cravings/nausea hit and, well, hello, Taco Bell!…obviously, the habits never really happened.

So, here we are.

The Biggest Loser thing goes through the middle of January…but let’s just start with a month and see how we’re feeling come November 1, shall we?

If anyone wants to join me for Bufftober (YES. DO IT!), let me know via email or comments. We can check in every week (I can link up to your blog if you want to write your own little diddy about how you’ve done the past week) and encourage each other and laugh at with each other and become BUFF.

If you stick it out until the end, maybe you’ll grace one of these bad boys.

(Ladies who are still here *and* participated in the original Buff-tober? Don’t think I didn’t forget about this little masterpiece of mine)

So, who’s with me?

I’m gonna need help and motivation.

Loads.

And for all you (Jo…Jess…etc) who are on the permanent buff-wagon – feel free to chime in with tips and help and words of wisdom!

life goals

First off, I know I keep talking about how tired I am. It’s because I’m obsessed with sleep, so, apologies if it’s getting old. You go four plus months with only around two hours of sleep at a time – average – and then come talk to me (if you’re able to have a coherent conversation. Because I’m not).

(and that sounded harsher than I meant. Maybe imagine hearts over the I’s and lots of smileys at the end)

Moving on….

I don’t think I’ve shared this before, maybe I have…but one of my lifetime goals is to complete an Ironman triathlon. And FYI that is a 2.4 mile open water swim followed by a 112 mile bike ride followed by running a full marathon (26.2 miles) followed by collapsing from the effort followed by the biggest meal I’ll probably ever eat followed by sleeping for three days straight.

I’ve yet to even do a sprint tri (the shortest kind)…but I feel like that kind of event is something that would be the ultimate challenge, mentally and physically. I know I would need a trainer, for sure, to get me through the grueling training.

And I’d have to find the time to train….this would probably be a “before I’m 40″ bucket list item. Tim’s goal was to run a full marathon – and he did it – twice (go Tim!).

My goal is slightly more intense.

I blame the years and years and years of playing competitive sports. I love physically challenging myself, pushing myself to the brink of my physical and mental capacity. I’m pretty sure anIronman would do that.

As would training for the Boston marathon, another desire of mine. I’d love love love to qualify for Boston. Looooove. Again, I’d need a trainer because the kind of speed work and hill work and pace runs needed to get fast enough to qualify would require someone screaming obscenities in my ear the entire time, probably. Definitely.

And I’m sure I’d be screaming right back.

But the pain and agony would be worth it. So, so worth it.

I’m not a fast runner, so getting my body to the point it can run around eight minute miles for 26.2 miles? Muy dificle.

(Tim and I are determined to learn Spanish…gotta start somewhere, right?)

I used to be a decent swimmer and swam on a swim team for six years, so I’m not as worried about that….and I’d have to harden my butt for 112 miles in the saddle….it’s the running FAST FOR HOURS that scares me the most.

But I want to do those two things SO BADLY.

I just need to start. And step one is making my goal public so I end up being held accountable.

Check.

double digits

And I’m not talking about my weight.

Besides, I surpassed THAT lovely double digit reality weeks ago.

(I know. I’m getting over it…slowly…actually, I’m 100% fine with whatever I happen to weigh right now, because I have zero idea what that is, thanks to Tim…however, I’ll let you know how I’m feeling, RE: WEIGHT GAIN after my appointment next week)

The double digits I’m talking about?

I have less than 100 days before the sprout graces us with his presence, a la out of the womb.

Ninety seven days, to be exact.

That’s roughly fourteen weeks. One week away from the third trimester.

HOLY FREAKING OUT.

The good news?

At least the sprout won’t be sleeping in a drawer, since we managed to take on some form of responsibility and purchase the pack n’ play.

The not so good news?

That’s pretty much all we’ve got.

Poopy diaper?

Screwed.

Clothing?

Screwed.

Stroller? Carseat? Bathing equpiment?

Fail. Fail. Fail.

The sprout doesn’t even have a nursery, yet. He has a room…with nothing in it. I know, babies don’t require much of anything in the beginning…but as for me, personally?

I’d like a nursery. And a glider-rocker chair.

And diapers.

(for the sprout…though I suppose wouldn’t count out post partum Depends…)

We’re taking our first childbirth education class tomorrow. It’s a six hour crash course on how to survive everything that comes with the process, including labor.

AND WE HAVE TO WATCH VIDEOS.

I’ve already warned Tim that if there was ever a moment during pregnancy where I would have a hysterical, sobbing, mental break down all, “Why can’t there be a stork? Wouldn’t that just be easier on everyone? I’m pretty positive the sprout can live in my stomach forever…” it would be during these videos.

I’d rather live in the world of ignorant bliss when it comes to childbirth. Yes, it’s gonna happen and yes, I have to go through it and yes, it’s probably definitely going to be the most uncomfortable, throw modesty out the window kind of experience of my entire life but…how about I just experience everything firsthand like it’s a big surprise instead of having to “be prepared?”

Being prepared is totally overrated.

(I’m crying on the inside)

So…instead of wallowing in my fear, how about we completely change the subject? Besides, the rest of what I have to say is WAY MORE EXCITING (for you) than me freaking out over childbirth videos…having to watch someone else’s va-jay-jay stretch to unnatural proportions…*shudder*

Remember that day awhile ago where I said I was having an awesome week and had exciting news but couldn’t share it with you just yet?

Well….now I can!

This is my news!

And for those of you who don’t like to clicky on things, from now until they kick me out, you can visit me every Friday at The Edge over at In the Powder Room.

It’s like I have a regular column…that isn’t my blog.

Exciting, right??

YAY!!!

And lots of the writers are British…which cracks me up…mostly I think British slang is hysterical…and their accents?

Divine.

So, if you need to kill some time on Friday, come visit me in my little rented space at In the Powder Room and show me some love!

Now, for those of you still reading…one more thing…(which means don’t stop now when you’re thisclose to the end) I’m (still) totally not trying to be a nudge but…PLEASE VOTE FOR ME!!!!

Even though you’ve all done an awesome job voting…I’m STILL LOSING the Atlanta Track Club sign contest to someone who said something totally not funny about stinky runners.

We can’t let him win.

So, if you have a spare moment, could you go (again…and again…) (I’m such a PITA…I know) and pretty, pretty, pretty please vote for my sign on Atlanta Track Club’s page (Jessica B) – “Your runners high? It’s probably not coming…”? Puuhhllease?

HERE! VOTE HERE! 

Please?…with sugar and sparkles and everything warm and fuzzy on top?

I really, really, really, really, REALLY want to win!!! It’s my competitive nature…I can’t help myself. Plus? I think my sign is WAY BETTER than the stinky runner SMOG one…the one who is currently beating me.

So, come on! HERE! VOTE HERE! Please??

(I’ve resorted to a form of begging, here…this says a lot)

BONUS! This is the LAST DAY I’LL EVER ASK YOU TO VOTE (on my sign)!!!!

DOUBE BONUS! Tell me you voted in the comments and I’ll send you a special shout out thank you on my blog.

(and who doesn’t love a personal shout out?)

*bump update* it finally happened!! also: bangs…

I guess fate had me forgetting my headphones and foregoing an hour on the elliptical to, instead, act a fool on the aerobic step thingy this morning during a cardio circuit class (that I rarely ever attend).

I think I’ve mentioned before that I am zero percent coordinated when it comes to those aerobic step things…my arms and legs don’t seem to want to communicate with each other so I’m usually doing the opposite of whatever the instructor is telling us to do.

It got to the point where, at one point, we were doing something called a “figure eight” (which I still don’t fully understand) and I almost collided with the person in front of me.

She laughed all, “It’s ok……” and then moved her bench five feet forward.

And that probably would have gotten me all hot and bothered…EXCEPT.

At the end of the class, there is this conga line thing where we all have to copy the instructor down a long line of aerobic step things (I ended up behind a person whose coordination skills were worse than mine – how is that even possible?!). It’s slightly humiliating (read above, RE: coordination) and at one point, we were supposed to straddle the steps and jump-hop-squat down the line.

Pregnant chick (me) can’t – and really isn’t supposed to – lift her body off the ground with both feet to jump-hop-squat and then land forcefully back on the ground in any kind of situation.

So pregnant chick improvised and skip-shuffled, instead.

The second time around doing this little dance of mine, the lady behind me (who, it is vitally important to note, I have never seen before or spoken to ever in my entire life) was all, “Yah…I didn’t think you should be doing that…I’m not sure I could catch a baby!”

And then made a cradling motion with her hands behind my rear.

OMG!

SHE KNEW I WAS PREGNANT.

AND NO ONE EVEN TOLD HER!

IT FINALLY HAPPENED!!!!!!

(that must mean I am, indeed, out of Denial and truly with child)

(excuse me while I do my happy dance…….!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

I laughed and was all, I hope a baby doesn’t come yet!” while on the inside I was all, “YOU COULD TELL I WAS PREGNANT!!! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THIS MEANS!”

So, are you seeing what she saw?

The bump…at 25 weeks and 3 days:

Tim says this particular shirt hides my bump more than some other outfits I have…maybe we’ll have to do a picture with another outfit and this one to see if there is a difference?

I’m hoping I don’t end up with an ass-bump…like the kind that are the same size and proportion to your baby bump…here’s hoping.

Also?

I got something along the lines of bangs over the weekend…whatcha think?!

(This is post-shower, no makeup…so……yah. Yikes)

And I’m totally not trying to be a nudge but…I’m currently losing the Atlanta Track Club sign contest to something about stinky runners.

Something about that just isn’t right.

I hear you can vote once a day until 11/11…and I also hear you can potentially win a $50 gift card just for voting…so, if you have a spare moment, could you go (again) and pretty, pretty, pretty please vote for my sign on Atlanta Track Club’s page (Jessica B) – “Your runners high? It’s probably not coming…”? Puuhhllease?

HERE! VOTE HERE! 

Please?…with sugar and sparkles and everything warm and fuzzy on top?

(You can vote once a day…did I mention that part already?)