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Running Through The Mommy Guilt

When I first started boot camp a year-and-a-half ago, I didn’t experience too much Mommy Guilt about time away from the family because no one was awake while I was gone. I didn’t have deal with the battle of exercise v/s guilt until I started the training program for that half marathon last August. (Has it not even been a year? Jeez.) The first few weeks I didn’t stress about my mid-week 3-mile runs because I knew that boot camp was keeping me in shape for those. So, I only had to leave the family for the Saturday long runs.

Once those got a bit longer, and once my mid-week runs were more than 3 miles, I started feeling guilty. I was having to miss soccer games and practices. So…to deal with the guilt? I skipped the runs. For about 3-4 weeks early in that program, I did my best to still run while the kids were sleeping, without my group.

But then, the Saturday runs got longer and I knew that I needed the group to motivate me. To hold me accountable. So, I sucked it up. I started letting myself miss a few games, miss time with the kids, just to accomplish this one goal. This one half-marathon.

Somewhere along the way…the guilt lessened. I stopped feeling bad when I left the kids. I stopped thinking that I was being a bad Mom. Somewhere along the way…it became okay. And I’m so glad it did.

We used to talk about Donnie and I leaving to exercise a lot. Sometimes the kids try to say, “Why do you run so much?” or something similar. I explained to them the importance of exercise and being healthy. This is just standard knowledge now.

Now, the conversations are much different.

“Did you have a good run today, Momma?”
“Did you have a good swim, Dad?”
“I play softball…that’s exercise too! I’m healthy.”
“Dance is exercise! I’m healthy too!”

The mood is different now. This is just our life. The kids know that there are many times a week when routines are shifted to accommodate Mommy and Daddy training for races. They know that sometimes they have to go someplace boring for awhile just to scream for 10 seconds when one of their parents crosses a finish-line. They don’t question anymore because it’s just…our life. And the knowledge that the kids are now growing up with this default setting that exercise is part of an adult’s life? Is worth so much more than those hours missed.

I’d heard that before…that we should get over our guilt when we exercise because our kids learn more life lessons from us being gone than they do from us being there. But it never really hit me until Nikki started showing off her muscles one day. “I have big muscles like you, Mom!” Or until Wes asked if he could wear my medal from my race. Or, especially that time when I overheard Nikki telling her friend when I was picking her up from daycare, “I have to get up EARLY tomorrow because my Mom and Dad have a big race in Tennessee.” And she wasn’t saying it with bitterness that she had to wake-up early, she was saying it with pride because her parents do things like go to BIG RACES!

I wish I knew the magic formula: Suffer through the guilt for 1 month and then things will get better! But it was a gradual change. Gradually the guilt subsided and it was replaced with pride. Pride that my kids will grow up assuming that exercise will be part of their adult life. Even big brother goes running sometimes, everyone does! Since our current society seems to be the breeding ground for more and more unhealthy lifestyles…the fact that I’m providing a foundation to combat that? Gives me more pride than guilt.

So…if you feel guilty every time you leave for a run? Hang in there. That will fade, I promise, and the feeling it leaves in it’s wake? The pride that maybe you’re doing something right after all? That maybe there’s one part of your kids you’re not screwing up? That maybe they’re learning something positive from you after all? It’s a damn good feeling. Because – someone like me passes on a lot of bad examples to her children: I’m stressed, anxious, I watch too much TV and I stress eat. But – if they’re also seeing that I exercise often and take time to set goals and train for them? Then maybe the bad stuff won’t have as much influence on them.

How Do You Respond When Your Child Calls You Fat?

Sidenote: I ADORE THIS PICTURE.

None of us want our children to grow up up with body image issues. All of us want our children to believe that what’s inside is what really counts. These are easy concepts – in theory.

In practice – it’s a little harder. I do what I can not to talk about my insecurities around my children, but I’m certain they feel it. I try to compliment them on their strength or their intelligence, but I often also tell they they look pretty and handsome. I don’t ever talk about losing weight around them. I repeat 1,000 times a day that I’d rather them be kind than pretty. This is the easy part.

The hard part is what to say in those moments. Those moments we all have when our kids say something that hurts our feelings, something about our appearance. We all have the stories. Your child called you fat. Your child made fun of your wrinkles. Your child laughed at your zits. Something that – of course – was innocent in their young minds. But in our jaded and insecure minds? Something that hurt. Those moments probably teach the most important lessons…and I swear on all that is holy, I think I fail every time.

I had two just last week and I thought I’d share them with you. I’d love to hear, how would YOU react? How would you turn those moments into a valuable lesson that includes the idea that A) Appearances are not the most important part of someone BUT… B) Slights on appearance will definitely hurt someone’s feelings.

It’s a fine line. “It’s what’s inside that counts!/But don’t insult my outside because it upsets me!” OR “It’s more important to be healthy than skinny!/But don’t call me fat because it makes me sad!”

Incident 1 – I was holding Wes on my hip the other night in the lobby of a performance we were attending. He patted my stomach and said, “Why is your belly so fat?”

Incident 2 – Nikki was with me in the dressing room when I was trying on clothes. First she said, “When you take the shirts off, why does your fat belly wobble so much?” And then she got very grossed out when she noticed all of the stretched marks on my hips, “What are THOSE?” with the lovely disgusted expression on her face.

I think I handled both moments okay. Not great, because it’s hard. I usually like to eventually divert the attention and say something like, “Who cares about that flabby belly…DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY MILES I CAN RUN?” But, in the moment, sometimes it’s hard to do that successfully without making it really obvious your feelings are a tad hurt.

I’m just curious, how would you handle those moments? How would you turn them into lessons about both A) Positive body image and B) Consideration when commenting on another person’s appearance.

This Entry Really IS About Shoes

I’ve been trying to become a runner since 2006, but it never really stuck until this time around. This time last year I started training for my first Cotton Row 10K, and I was alternating between a pair of Nikes an another pair of shoes, not sure yet which worked best. I decided the Nikes gave me blisters, but the others gave me black toenails. I could deal with the blisters better, so I stuck with the Nikes.

When I started my half-marathon training class last August, I figured I probably had 200+ miles on those shoes if you counted the entire year of boot camp and periodic running before. I knew that most people tell you to only put 300-350 miles on your shoes, so I started thinking about replacing them, not wanting them to crap out on me right before my half-marathon.

I started getting weird hip/knee issues about a month before the race and decided I had crossed the 300 mile mark and it was time to replace the shoes. The ones I was wearing were the Blue/Gray Nike Pegasus 27, which they didn’t make anymore. I opted to stick with the Pegasus and just get the newer model. Those were the Burgandy/Orange ones. Ever since then, I have kept track of my miles on my shoes and around the 330 mark, I can feel it in my knees/hips. I highly suggest you keep track of your miles on your shoes.

This week I’m breaking in another new pair. I didn’t do a great job separating my miles between my last pair of Pegasus 28 and my trail shoes. So, I know I have anywhere from 315 to 380 on the Burgandy/Pink pair. This week? I started wearing the Aqua/Pink pair.

Four pairs of shoes in a year. The first pair were already a year old, so it’s not like I’ve worn out that many shoes in a year, but still…four pairs of shoes in a year. I’ve already run almost 500 miles in 2012, almost 500 miles in FOUR MONTHS. It’s not wonder I’m going through shoes so fast.

Some people haven’t found that one pair of shoes they love. I have, so I stick with them. I love that they come in crazy colors, although I think I’ve bought them all now. The next pair will either have to be white (BORING) or I’ll have to special order some, which I might do to celebrate all of my running this year.

Everyone is different about their shoes, but I tell you, the 300+ miles thing? Has been on the spot for me. And I love my Pegasus. I still get blisters during hot runs (no blisters all winter, but they’re back now that it’s hot) but other than that? Nothing. The periodic mild shin splint, that’s it.

How about you? Do you keep track of the miles on your shoes? Do you switch brands/models?

Sleepy Shoes

(Get it? Sleep Issues. SLEEPY SHOES! What? It’s 3:30am, cut me some slack.)

First? Thank you for yesterday. I’m saddened that so many of us feel so ugly but I’m also happy to know I’m not alone. I think I’m going to try to remember to tell people when I think they’re awesome…so that, if they’re having an I Feel Ugly moment, maybe that will help them a bit.

Second? I chose a winner for the drawing! I’m going to try to do another giveaway next week…I just have to decide what to give away!

Now…on to the Sleepy Shoes!

We have weird sleep issues in our house. And by “we” I mean “I” of course. I have weird sleep issues.

When Donnie and I first started sharing a bed, it was a struggle for me to get to sleep. He needed a TV to fall asleep watching, always had, I needed dark silence. Our “compromise” was that he didn’t watch cartoon shows (like Simpsons) because they were too bright, and he didn’t watch anything funny because when he woke me up laughing I often responded by punching him in the face.

Eventually, I got to the point where I could fall asleep most night with the TV on. Most nights. There were still plenty of nights that I struggled, but on average it worked.

Then we bought this house 2 summers ago and all of that stopped. I just couldn’t fall asleep with the TV on. No matter how hard we tried. I think it’s due to the streetlight outside our bedroom. It added an element of annoyance I couldn’t overcome. And, that was when I started boot camp so I had to get up around 4am in the mornings. I NEEDED MY SLEEP.

So, I started going to bed with Nikki and sleeping with her. I would wake up around midnight most nights and stumble back into my own bed. It worked. I got the sleep I needed and Donnie still had his TV.

But…somewhere along the way I stopped waking up in the middle of the night. So now? I basically sleep with my 6-year old every night. While my husband sleeps in our bed. Alone.

Now…there are still plenty of nights where we hang out in bed and watch TV or movies together. But when I’m ready for sleep and he’s not? I’m in bed with Nikki. Some nights he heads to bed before me so, by the time I’m ready, he’s asleep. Those nights? I head to our bed because…NO TV!

I used to think this was very weird…and I still do…but recently I’ve joked about this situation to other people and it turns out? Lots of couples have trouble sleeping together. One hogs the covers. The other snores. She ends up on the couch most nights. He ends up in the guest bedroom.

So…Do you and your significant other sleep well together? How do you combat it if you don’t?

The Ugly Of Insecurities

One of the things I gloss over a lot as just a thing about me is my insecurities. I just casually say, “I have self-image issues.” Or, “I’m plagued with insecurities.” But you know what? It’s a little bit more extreme than that.

I feel pretty so rarely that those moments stick out in my mind. That day? Remember that day when I was wearing that outfit and my hair looked good and I was happy? That day I felt pretty. That one day last year.

When I go on dates with Donnie I am constantly imagining the people around me thinking things like, “How did she score him?” When I meet his triathlon friends at races I hear them thinking, “I imagined her to be much prettier…” Because I see him as this gorgeous man with this great body and this youthful face and I’m just…a troll.

I see pictures people take of themselves in instagram all the time and I think about how much effort it takes for me to post a picture of myself. It needs the right filter that evens out my skintone, it needs to be lightened so the bags under my eyes don’t show up. I prefer to have the kids in the picture to distract from my crooked eyes. I hate my smile.

I told myself recently I was going to post an unfiltered picture to instagram. Just as a challenge to myself. Because, while I look in the mirror and fight back tears at what I see, I know that this is distorted. I know – with the logical part of my mind – that I’m probably not as ugly as I see myself. Probably. I don’t know for sure, but I feel like if I was as ugly as I see myself, I probably wouldn’t have friends, right?

So I challenge myself to try to fight that. I will post an unfiltered picture to instagram! But I tried. Every day for a week. And I couldn’t do it. I found good light this morning that acted as a filter, it evened out my skin tone at least. I finally posted it. But it took 10 failed attempts over the last week. And still, that picture you see right there? I HATE IT. I mean, I HATE IT. I posted it because I feel like I should to try to force myself to deal with these insecurities…BUT I HATE IT WITH THE FIRE OF A THOUSAND SUNS.

Some of this is the extra weight I have yet to lose. The last time I felt good about myself consistently was the month before I got married. I keep telling myself if I could lose weight, I’d feel that good again. But would I? I was tanning on a regular basis then too, and I’m not going to do that anymore. And I had a better smile because I didn’t have the dental disaster that is my bridge that I have hated every since they put it in.

So…maybe that weight wouldn’t help. Maybe I just need to try to work on seeing myself in a different light. I don’t express these thoughts around my kids because I don’t want to play any part in giving them their own insecurities, but how do you break yourself of thoughts that you believe are true?

It’s just a struggle. The logical part of me is fairly certain I’m not as hideous as I see myself. But still…it’s hard to listen to that part when MY EYES ARE SEEING THE TRUTH. Or, at least, the truth through my own distorted self-image.

I write this – not seeking compliments or reassurances – my family does that for me. I’m just writing this to see if others deal with the same insecurities. I hate mirrors. We don’t have any in my house but the ones in the bathroom. I hate that my in-laws have one in the foyer I can’t escape. I hate that I can see myself in the reflection of the giant windows throughout my building at work. I hate pictures of myself. I hate more not having them around because I know my kids will want them, so I deal with them periodically, but if I had it my way? I’d never take a picture.

I stepped on the scale this morning and have gained back 9lbs I’ve lost. I cried. Because at least when I was losing weight, I could tolerate the insecurities because I was getting further from the person I saw in the mirror.

So, I’m not looking for “You’re beautiful” type of compliments, but I am looking for someone to say, “Me too.” I guess there’s a part of me that knows how crazy-insane this all sounds. And that part of me felt like putting it into words would open the door for other people to say, “Dude. I’m crazy-insane too.” Because that’s the beauty of the internet. Even when you feel your ugliest; you find that at least you’re not alone.