Frosty is a gross understatement

It doesn't take much convincing to talk me into trying something new and when a friend suggested the Frosty Fifty I thought "why not"! I liked the idea of tackling a new distance and having a purpose to get out of my warm bed is helpful on cold, dark mornings over the holidays. Plus how cool would it be to able to call myself an ultra-marathoner. I mean a 50k "is only" 5 miles more then a marathon. Little did I know just how cool it would be.

The Frosty Fifty takes place around Salem Lake just outside of Winston Salem, North Carolina so we drove up from Charlotte the night before and stayed at my parent's house in Greensboro to make race morning easier. It was nice to be able to remove the mom hat and only be concerned about myself for the night. Actually I didn't even have to prepare dinner as my friend Holly made us gluten free pasta which was simple and perfect. This allowed me to foster new things to worry about instead.

You should not stalk the weather before a race and waste mental energy of something completely out of your control. We all knew this but were still all consumed! The average temperature in early January runs from low of 29 to high of 49 but the RealFeel® was to be right around zero! Cold is usually good for distance runners so you don't over heat but we questioned every article of clothing we packed. Layers are key for winter running and we were fretting over how many we could pile on and trying to cover every inch of skin! At the end all we could do was laugh even though deep down I think we all wanted to cry. There actually were tears before the night was over because we laughed so hard at ourselves!

The course was a loop around the partially frozen lake with an out-and-back trail add-on making each loop 12.5k. I wore trail shoes which was a mistake as you run on a wide, packed dirt path with a paved portion in there. The route stayed close to the wooded shoreline of the lake so rolled and was scenic but after 4 loops I was just ready to be done and attempt to feel my fingers again. Being the coldest day in the race's 18 years was not the history I was looking to make.

I finished in a very respectable time, 4:51:03, and even after that much activity am not sure I ever warmed up! The only layer I even removed was to change from a full hat to an earband and I might actually categorize that as another mistake. Good things always come in threes so the last mistake I made was to not really eat anything the entire race. I attempted to eat a PBJ at one aid station but it was frozen and I couldn't produce any saliva to break it down. The only fuel I took in was liquid and some BBQ potato chips. Mark this under "Things Not To Do" at your race.

The weather just emphasized that this race was not about time or performance but about accomplishing something and pushing my limits. I certainly expanded my running knowledge and this experience helped to build some confidence as I gear up for an actual trail 50k race in about a month. Stay tuned!

Pity Party Over

It's taken me awhile to get passed, step back and gain the needed perspective on what was an extremely painful race, both physically and mentally! While I am epically disappointed in my time I had an awesome trip to the Windy City with amazing people! The clock cannot show the months of great training, tears & bad words I fought thru but never quit (even picked up and pushed an older gentleman to not quit either), the money raised for an amazing cause and how much I love my grandmother. Thank you to so many for reminding me that being strong doesn't always look the same and every finish line deserves celebrating. Some days it's simply about putting one foot in front of the other and that is okay!

There were a few good pictures. I remember literally wiping tears, taking a deep breath and putting on a happy face for the camera (why you cannot believe everything poeple put out there on social media) but this one is accurate of my race experience... head down and just pushing.

Hope Floats Duck Race

We headed to the US National White Water Center to support a worthy cause, Kindermourn, but more so to show our support for friends who have been through pain that even now just the thought of it still makes me cry. I could not fully explain this to a 5 year old but she knew we bought ducks, not to take home but to donate money to help families who lost their children. This was the first time I got to attend the actual Hope Floats Duck Race. It was a much colder day then we were dressed for but we always enjoy our time at USNWC and I hope to take Addie back again next year.

New Ride

Getting a new car was not on our family's radar but after learning more then we cared to about Lemon Laws, Jim gave up his beloved (and sporty) Subaru for this hybrid. The 40 miles per gallon and insurance break is fantastic though! Only disappointment was with the mouse pictured below who had requested the car be red.

Soccer Shots

No picture of her during practice because she spent most of it attached to my leg. It was an uphill battle to begin with but that doesn't mean I didn't try to get her to participate. Camp is fun but exhausting and she fell asleep on the way home today. First strike against us, I had to wake her from a nap to go. Then, we all know this one needs transition time and I rushed her over there because was trying to be on time which was the second mistake. Now she was already upset and since we were late I didn't have any prep time with her which was my third mistake. Not to mention this was an entirely new activity with someone she had never met.

By the end of it she did except the end of practice reward (a single Mike-and-Ike) and gave the coach a high five... which is really all I could have asked for! Then we followed the rest of the "team" to the playground where she was all smiles. At least we ended on a happy note!

Don't Carpe Diem

Parenting truly can be beautiful and brutal and easily both at the same time. Sorry for doing this two days in a row, but I hope you enjoy another article from Momastery...

Every time I'm out with my kids -- this seems to happen:
An older woman stops us, puts her hand over her heart and says something like, "Oh, Enjoy every moment. This time goes by so fast."

Everywhere I go, someone is telling me to seize the moment, raise my awareness, be happy, enjoy every second, etc, etc, etc.

I know that this message is right and good. But, I have finally allowed myself to admit that it just doesn't work for me. It bugs me. This CARPE DIEM message makes me paranoid and panicky. Especially during this phase of my life - while I'm raising young kids. Being told, in a million different ways to CARPE DIEM makes me worry that if I'm not in a constant state of intense gratitude and ecstasy, I'm doing something wrong.

I think parenting young children (and old ones, I've heard) is a little like climbing Mount Everest. Brave, adventurous souls try it because they've heard there's magic in the climb. They try because they believe that finishing, or even attempting the climb are impressive accomplishments. They try because during the climb, if they allow themselves to pause and lift their eyes and minds from the pain and drudgery, the views are breathtaking. They try because even though it hurts and it's hard, there are moments that make it worth the hard. These moments are so intense and unique that many people who reach the top start planning, almost immediately, to climb again. Even though any climber will tell you that most of the climb is treacherous, exhausting, killer. That they literally cried most of the way up.

And so I think that if there were people stationed, say, every thirty feet along Mount Everest yelling to the climbers -- "ARE YOU ENJOYING YOURSELF!? IF NOT, YOU SHOULD BE! ONE DAY YOU'LL BE SORRY YOU DIDN'T!" TRUST US!! IT'LL BE OVER TOO SOON! CARPE DIEM!" -- those well-meaning, nostalgic cheerleaders might be physically thrown from the mountain.

Now. I'm not suggesting that the sweet old ladies who tell me to ENJOY MYSELF be thrown from a mountain. These are wonderful ladies. Monkees, probably. But last week, a woman approached me in the Target line and said the following: "Sugar, I hope you are enjoying this. I loved every single second of parenting my two girls. Every single moment. These days go by so fast."

At that particular moment, Amma had arranged one of the new bras I was buying on top of her sweater and was sucking a lollipop that she must have found on the ground. She also had three shop-lifted clip-on neon feathers stuck in her hair. She looked exactly like a contestant from Toddlers and Tiaras. I couldn't find Chase anywhere, and Tish was grabbing the pen on the credit card swiper thing WHILE the woman in front of me was trying to use it. And so I just looked at the woman, smiled and said, "Thank you. Yes. Me too. I am enjoying every single moment. Especially this one. Yes. Thank you."

That's not exactly what I wanted to say, though.

There was a famous writer who, when asked if he loved writing, replied, "No. but I love having written." What I wanted to say to this sweet woman was, "Are you sure? Are you sure you don't mean you love having parented?"

I love having written. And I love having parented. My favorite part of each day is when the kids are put to sleep (to bed) and Craig and I sink into the couch to watch some quality TV, like Celebrity Wife Swap, and congratulate each other on a job well done. Or a job done, at least.
Every time I write a post like this, I get emails suggesting that I'm being negative. I have received this particular message four or five times -- G, if you can't handle the three you have, why do you want a fourth?

That one always stings, and I don't think it's quite fair. Parenting is hard. Just like lots of important jobs are hard. Why is it that the second a mother admits that it's hard, people feel the need to suggest that maybe she's not doing it right? Or that she certainly shouldn't add more to her load. Maybe the fact that it's so hard means she IS doing it right...in her own way...and she happens to be honest.
Craig is a software salesman. It's a hard job in this economy. And he comes home each day and talks a little bit about how hard it is. And I don't ever feel the need to suggest that he's not doing it right, or that he's negative for noticing that it's hard, or that maybe he shouldn't even consider taking on more responsibility. And I doubt anybody comes by his office to make sure he's ENJOYING HIMSELF. I doubt his boss peeks in his office and says: "This career stuff...it goes by so fast...ARE YOU ENJOYING EVERY MOMENT IN THERE, CRAIG???? CARPE DIEM, CRAIG!"

My point is this. I used to worry that not only was I failing to do a good enough job at parenting, but that I wasn't enjoying it enough. Double failure. I felt guilty because I wasn't in parental ecstasy every hour of every day and I wasn't MAKING THE MOST OF EVERY MOMENT like the mamas in the parenting magazines seemed to be doing. I felt guilty because honestly, I was tired and cranky and ready for the day to be over quite often. And because I knew that one day, I'd wake up and the kids would be gone, and I'd be the old lady in the grocery store with my hand over my heart. Would I be able to say I enjoyed every moment? No.

But the fact remains that I will be that nostalgic lady. I just hope to be one with a clear memory. And here's what I hope to say to the younger mama gritting her teeth in line:
"It's helluva hard, isn't it? You're a good mom, I can tell. And I like your kids, especially that one peeing in the corner. She's my favorite. Carry on, warrior. Six hours till bedtime." And hopefully, every once in a while, I'll add -- "Let me pick up that grocery bill for ya, sister. Go put those kids in the van and pull on up -- I'll have them bring your groceries out."

Anyway. Clearly, Carpe Diem doesn't work for me. I can't even carpe fifteen minutes in a row, so a whole diem is out of the question.

Here's what does work for me:
There are two different types of time. Chronos time is what we live in. It's regular time, it's one minute at a time, it's staring down the clock till bedtime time, it's ten excruciating minutes in the Target line time, it's four screaming minutes in time out time, it's two hours till daddy gets home time. Chronos is the hard, slow passing time we parents often live in.

Then there's Kairos time. Kairos is God's time. It's time outside of time. It's metaphysical time. It's those magical moments in which time stands still. I have a few of those moments each day. And I cherish them.

Like when I actually stop what I'm doing and really look at Tish. I notice how perfectly smooth and brownish her skin is. I notice the perfect curves of her teeny elf mouth and her asianish brown eyes, and I breathe in her soft Tishy smell. In these moments, I see that her mouth is moving but I can't hear her because all I can think is -- This is the first time I've really seen Tish all day, and my God -- she is so beautiful. Kairos.

Like when I'm stuck in chronos time in the grocery line and I'm haggard and annoyed and angry at the slow check-out clerk. And then I look at my cart and I'm transported out of chronos. And suddenly I notice the piles and piles of healthy food I'll feed my children to grow their bodies and minds and I remember that most of the world's mamas would kill for this opportunity. This chance to stand in a grocery line with enough money to pay. And I just stare at my cart. At the abundance. The bounty. Thank you, God. Kairos.

Or when I curl up in my cozy bed with Theo asleep at my feet and Craig asleep by my side and I listen to them both breathing. And for a moment, I think- how did a girl like me get so lucky? To go to bed each night surrounded by this breath, this love, this peace, this warmth? Kairos.

These kairos moments leave as fast as they come- but I mark them. I say the word kairos in my head each time I leave chronos. And at the end of the day, I don't remember exactly what my kairos moments were, but I remember I had them. And that makes the pain of the daily parenting climb worth it.

If I had a couple Kairos moments during the day, I call it a success.

Carpe a couple of Kairoses a day.

Good enough for me.

Momastery

Work/Life Balance is a topic I know every person struggles with, and none more then parents. I just read an article that was finally able to put a name to what I feel everyday - Mommy Guilt. As much as I would like to be, my inability to slow down long enough to focus on only one single thing leaves me far from eloquent and since I just discovered Glennon Melton and her blog, Momastery, (which I love already), thought I would simply re-post said article.

Friendly Fire

I recently heard a vicious radio debate between women who believe that mothers should stay home and others who believe that mothers should work outside the home. All the debaters were mothers themselves.

As I listened wearily while ducking and dodging the ladies' sucker punches like a cornered boxer, I thought... this is really getting old.

I've been both a "working" and a "stay-at-home" mom so I've experienced both sides of the internal and eternal debate moms endure all day, every day. When I worked outside my house, Mommy Guilt rode shotgun with me each morning, chiding me for dropping off my sick boy at day care instead of keeping him home and for rocking him the night before instead of preparing for work. When I got to work each day Mommy Guilt whispered that a good mom would still be at home with her son and when I returned home she'd insist that a better teacher would have stayed at work longer. When I'd visit girlfriends who stayed home, Mommy Guilt would say "See... this lady's doing it right. Her kids are better off than yours are." And Mommy Guilt certainly had a lot to say when Chase's day care provider admitted that he had taken his first steps while I was working. Every night when I finally got Chase to sleep, finished grading papers, and collapsed into the couch, Mommy Guilt would snuggle up next to me and sweetly say "shouldn't you spend some quality time with your husband instead of checking out?" And finally, before I fell asleep each night, Mommy Guilt would whisper in my ear, "YOU KNOW, THE ONLY WAY YOU'RE GOING TO BE A GOOD MOTHER AND WIFE IS IF YOU QUIT YOUR JOB AND STAY HOME."

And so now I'm a stay-at-home mom. And the thing is that Mommy Guilt stays home with me. These days I experience her less as a drive-by-shooter and more as a constant commentator. Now she sounds like this:

"Did you go to all three of those college classes just so you could clean the kitchen and play Candy Land all day? And how is it that you don't even do those things very well? Can you concentrate on nothing? Look at this mess! A good mom would clean more and play less. Also, a good mom would clean less and play more. Also a good mom would clean more and play more and quit emailing altogether. Additionally, I've been meaning to ask if you're sure you feel comfortable spending so much money when you don't even make any. Moreover, when was the last time you volunteered at Chase's school? What kind of stay at home mom doesn't go to PTA meetings or know how to make lasagna? Furthermore, nobody in this house appreciates you."

My favorite, though, is that when I finally do sit down, concentrate on one of my kids, and read a few books all the way through... instead of saying "Good job!" Mommy Guilt says, "See how happy your daughter is? You're home all day...why don't you do this more often?

And of course, before I go to sleep every night she whispers... "YOU KNOW, MAYBE YOU'D BE A BETTER MOTHER AND WOMAN IF YOU COULD JUST GET OUT OF THE HOUSE AND WORK."

Mommy Guilt is like that scene from "Liar Liar" in which Jim Carrey enters a bathroom, throws himself against the walls, slams his head into the toilet, and rubs soap into his eyes. When a confused observer asks what on Earth he's doing he says, "I WAS KICKIN' MY ASS! DO YA MIND?"

I understand the act of kicking one's own ass. I do it all the time. What I don't understand is why some ladies insist on making everything worse by kicking each other's asses.

To the women who argue vehemently that all "good mothers" stay at home: Are you nuts? If you got your way, who would show my daughters that some women actually change out of yoga pants and into scrubs and police uniforms and power suits each day? How would my girls even know that women who don't feel like carrying diaper bags can carry briefcases or stethoscopes instead...or also? How, pray tell, could I tell them with a straight face that they can grow up to be whatever they want to be?

And to the women who argue that all stay home mothers damage women's liberation: Are you nuts? Aren't you causing some damage by suggesting that we all must fit into a category, that women are a cause instead of individuals? And doesn't choosing to spend your limited time and energy attacking "us" set "us" back? But for argument's sake, what if you got your way and every mother was required to work outside of the home? What would that mean to ME? Who would volunteer to lead my son's reading group at school, host his class party, plan his Sunday school lesson or wait with him in the parking lot when I forget to pick him up? Who would watch my daughter while the baby gets her shots? Who would knock on my door and tell me that my keys are still in the front door, the doors to my van are open, and my purse is in the driveway?

And if every woman made the same decision, how would my children learn that sometimes motherhood looks like going to work to put food on the table or stay sane or share your gifts or because you want to work and you've earned that right. And that other times motherhood looks like staying home for all of the exact same reasons.

As far as I can tell, no matter what decision a woman makes, she's offering an invaluable gift to my daughters and me. So I'd like to thank all of you. Because I'm not necessarily trying to raise an executive or a mommy. I'm trying to raise a woman. And there are as many different right ways to be a woman as there are women

So, angry, debating ladies... here's the thing. My daughter is watching me AND you to learn what it means to be a woman. And I'd like her to learn that a woman's value is determined less by her career choices and more by how she treats other women, in particular, women who are different than she is. I'd like her to learn that her strength is defined by her honesty and her ability to exist in grey areas without succumbing to masking her insecurities with generalizations or accusations. And I'd like her to learn that the only way to be both graceful and powerful is to dance among the endless definitions of the word woman... and to refuse to organize women into categories, to view ideas in black and white, or to choose sides and come out swinging. Because being a woman is not that easy, and it's not that hard.

And speaking of "Liar Liar" - angry debating ladies . . . when you yell about how much peace you have with your decisions, it just doesn't ring true. The thing is, if you're yelling, I don't believe that you've got it all figured out. I don't even believe that YOU believe you've got it all figured out. I think your problem might be that you're as internally conflicted as the rest of us about your choices. But instead of kicking your own ass, you've decided it'd be easier to kick ours.

Which is tempting, but also wrong.

So, maybe instead of tearing each other up, we could each admit that we're a bit torn up about our choices, or lack thereof. And we could offer each other a shoulder or a hand. And then maybe our girls would see what it really means to be a woman.

Were you able to get through the entire thing without choking up?

Reason, Season or Lifetime

It is amazing how people can affect your life in different ways. Whether it is the people you are very close to, those you hardly know or one of the many in-between. I am learning that you cannot take any of those relationships for granted and honestly believe none of them are by chance.

People come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime.
When you figure out which one it is, you will know what to do for each person.

When someone is in your life for a reason, it is usually to meet a need you have expressed. They have come to assist you through a difficulty; to provide you with guidance and support; to aid you physically, emotionally or spiritually. They may seem like a godsend, and they are. They are there for the reason you need them to be.
Then, without any wrongdoing on your part or at an inconvenient time, this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end. Sometimes they die. Sometimes they walk away. Sometimes they act up and force you to take a stand. What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled; their work is done. The prayer you sent up has been answered and now it is time to move on.

Some people come into your life for a season, because your turn has come to share, grow or learn. They bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh. They may teach you something you have never done. They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy. Believe it. It is real. But only for a season.

Lifetime relationships teach you lifetime lessons; things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation. Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person, and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas of your life. It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant.
— Unknown

Tomorrow I will be attending the service for Leslie Richardson Carman. I am not trying to say Leslie taught me some great life lesson or that in her death something in me was awakened but I couldn't help but think of that poem. All I do know is that my heart aches for the dark place she was in and it breaks for the two sweet girls she left behind. I will think of her in the morning when I get up to run in the dark and I will smile every afternoon when Addie asks for a "poppie". (I credit her with both!)
 
Leslie, I pray that you found peace and that you are able to watch over your hurting family and friends. Lord, give Brian the strength to pick up the pieces and help him find peace so he can begin to heal but mostly I pray for Olivia and Taylor and all the pain and unanswerable questions they have ahead of them.