Acknowledging the Hard

This post is difficult to write, not because I'm nervous about how it will be received, but in the sense that my words may be construed to mean something else entirely.  I believe what I'm about to say is true, but it is not an excuse to wallow in pity or make excuses for ourselves.

We need to acknowledge the hard. 

I've admitted that life with a baby is hard, but this year has been hard in other ways, too. Buying a vehicle made finances a little tighter.  We started high school and had a bumpy start with our chosen curriculum.  In fact, we're still smoothing the bumps.  We've had to do extensive training, talking, and praying with two of the kids who have relationship issues with each other.  Another child has struggled with attitude over schoolwork. Brian has worked long hours.

I hesitate to share, even with my real-life friends. It's not necessarily pride or wanting people to see me as having it all together, but it is knowing there are people going through things far worse than what I'm going through.  And is it disloyal to my kids to say that their activities, growth, exuberance-- their very existence--  make some days difficult?   I choose this life, didn't I?

I believe it is important to acknowledge that what we are experiencing is hard.  We don't need to brush it off and paint a rosy picture for ourselves.  We need to understand that yes, this is hard.  The path I'm walking every day is not easy mentally or emotionally or physically.  Even if I've chosen it, or even if I believe it is precisely where God has placed me, it is hard. 

At the same time, I want to remember that hard is not the same as bad.  

"And not only that, but we also rejoice in our afflictions, because we know that affliction produces endurance, endurance produces proven character, and proven character produces hope." Romans 5:3-4 HCSB

One of my friends wrote recently about her strugges with singleness.  My mom wrote last year about the difficulties of walking the path of poor health with my dad . 

God has given each of us hard things.  He says in His Word, "My grace is sufficient for you. for power is perfected in weakness."

Let's each of acknowledge our hard and then let His grace wash over us.

Weekend Encouragement {a few thoughts and a pile of links}

We completed a full week of school on this first full week of September.  As in, we did our work on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday without taking a break for a summer activity. Things went smoothly, and one student admitted a subject that was hated last week was now "okay."  


Still I battled feelings of discouragement.  As she moves closer to a year old, Macie is needing less sleep in the afternoon.  Her morning nap is solid and falls during our busiest school hours which is a help, but I crave the quiet time in the afternoons, too.  It's all good, and I may grow to love this new routine, especially as several of our afternoon extracurriculars begin again this fall. I'll be happy that she doesn't get grumpy if she misses a long rest time.  Transitions are difficult, though, and my body and mind are weary.

 As   summer winds down and all our friends are back to school, too, we're home more which is also a good thing, but I miss the hubbub of activity and the conversation with other moms. For years, I thought I was an introvert, but this summer made me suspect I'm more extroverted than I realized.

Brian's work season is slowing slightly, and we have been intentional about our evening walk.  Those, and an invitation from a friend to hang out and talk while our kids played yesterday after school, buoyed the end of my week.

I've also been encouraged by exchanging scriptures with various friends via text message. "A word spoken at the right time is like gold apples on a silver tray." (Proverbs 25:11 HCSB)  On Thursday, I asked if any reader on the blog's Facebook page would leave a comment with a scripture that brought encouragement to them. I was blessed all day by the responses.  Click here to find encouragement, too, and click below on the links to read other articles (by other people) that I loved this week.

Do It Afraid  by Sarah Mackenzie @ Amongst the Lovely Things 

About starting something hard: "So here we are, starting our calendar square in the face and running out of excuses to put off starting. I say just leap in. It isn't going to be perfect-- it won't even if you try to make it so, so just do your best and let God feed the 5,000 with your measly basket of loaves and  fish."   

To Think God Had This in Mind for My Family 15 Years Ago by Rachel @ Thriving Home

Timely for our family as in the last year as each of us has made new friendships, renewed some old ones, and explored "what it means to do life with others in Christ."

Start the Homeschool Year Off RIGHT by Homeschooling YOUR Way by Lea Ann Garfias @ Raising Arrows

This has nothing to do with ego, selfishness, or pushing God out of the picture but simply leaving behind the comparison game and teaching your children the way that works best for your family.

 

Why everyone should have a baby when there are older children in the house

Macie will be 2 months old this week.  My other five kids range in age from 5 to 13.  In fact, we're at the easy part of the year when there is an even two years between everyone's ages-- 5, 7, 9, 11, and 13.  That all changes when birthday season begins in July!   When the others were tiny, motherhood was physically demanding.  There was always someone who needed to be carried or bathed or fed.  It was also mentally and emotionally demanding.  How can I meet the needs of all these little people well?  How can I do it and not let my house disintegrate into dust and clutter?

The 5-year break between kids gave me surprising perspective.  I don't feel as though I'm the same mom I was to the others.  Everyone needs to have a baby when they have older kids in the house.  Obviously I speak in jest.  I know people can't or don't have children for a variety of reasons, but there is peace and clarity that comes with time and age.

This time around I have older children who want to share my workload.  They ask if they can help-- to vacuum, cook, or hold the baby.  Having responsible baby-holders (versus ones who must be hovered over while they practice with the baby propped on pillows) is a game-changer. Moms of tiny ones understand the luxury of putting on a load of laundry using both hands.  Or even-- gasp!-- going to the bathroom alone. 

As on older mom, I also have the wisdom of fleeting time.  I understand and appreciate that this baby could be the last and I'm able to savor her a little more.  I'm in no hurry for her to grow up.  When she abandoned that scrunched-up newborn pose, with her legs pulled to her body in a classic fetal position, I felt a little sad inside. Watching her little legs developing fat rolls and witnessing her first gummy smiles are rocking my world. Each milestone is sweet. 

I'm not even minding the lack of sleep.  Admittedly, Macie is a good sleeper.  [She naps in the front wrap every morning.  She sleeps 2-3 hours in the afternoon in bed on her own and catnaps in arms in the evening.  She typically goes to bed around ten, waking once or twice to nurse before getting up at seven.]  But life and sleep with a baby is unpredictable and I'm learning not to mind.  I can even smile when I'm rubbing my sleepy eyes as I sit up with a nursing or wide awake baby in the wee hours of the morning. 

You know how everyone tells you to enjoy the baby years because they go so quickly.  I used to believe it my mind but struggle to put it into practice.  Now I've witnessed the truth of those words and I'm finally at a place where I can let go and savor.  Sure.  I still get frustrated and wish I could get more sleep or wish I could do something besides hold the baby all day long, but I know this stage won't last. I'm able to say to myself, "It's only one night. This isn't forever."  I'm don't have to rock my 13-year-old to sleep and my 11-year-old does not wake me at 5 am.  It won't last.

Before Macie was born, the ladies at my church gave me a baby shower.  Each woman in attendance wrote a message of encouragement on the front of a diaper.  They were called "middle of the night" diapers and were meant to uplift my spirit as I shuffled through the sleep-deprived nights with a newborn.  As it turns out, Macie was too tiny to wear those diapers in the beginning, but we're delving into them now.  I choose one on days or moments when I'm feeling particularly vulnerable or overwhelmed. Reminders that "the days (and nights) are long, but the years are short" or "the Lord will see you through" are just what I need at those times.  Another diaper said simply, "Pray," so I did.  And another said, "Eat a cookie." It's good advice all around! 

I think I'm gaining a new perspective on bad days.  A few weeks ago, we had a day when Macie didn't sleep or stop crying almost all day long.  Last Sunday, she was restless, fussy, and loud throughout the morning and I spent most of the church service out in the hall, even though a few of my kids were singing with the children's choir and I wanted to watch them!   On Tuesday, every time I laid Macie down for a nap, she woke back up, and didn't settle down for good until after 3 pm!  I texted Brian that we were having a rough day.  He texted back that he was sorry and I surprised myself by responding, "Just life.  It's okay."  And I meant it.  Despite my frustration, lack of free time, and the state of my messy house, I was choosing to put it in perspective. Those days, and any other day, is just a blip in time.

All this is not to show what a great and patient person I am.   I am not.   I like things just-so and prefer schedules-- and all things-- to go my way.  It's not to brag that I can get less sleep and not complain.  I do sometimes.  But the Lord is working on me.  Having a baby with older children in the house is transforming my thinking.  I'm more focused on people, not perfection.  Motherhood is changing me. 

(Click here for other posts in this series.)

Mixed Feelings and a Blessing in Disguise

We are a 8-member family, but we still have a 7-passenger van.  When we go to church or to out to dinner or anywhere as an entire family, we have to take 2 vehicles.  We scour Craigslist and online classifieds daily.  We've asked around and talked with friends. It's been partly financial, partly logistical, but either way, we've not been able to purchase a larger vehicle yet. 

I didn't realize until I've been the sole driver of one vehicle how much talking Brian and I did while riding.  On our way to and from events or even en route to the store, we discussed our schedule for the week, movies we wanted to see, conversations we had with other people, and parenting issues.  It was a guaranteed, mostly-uninterrupted, focused window of time for us to connect and I miss that. 

But something unexpected has happened on our drives.  My 13-year-old who spends much of his day quietly building Legos in his room or drawing in the living room, is ready for conversation in the van.  Over the past two weeks, we've had multiple meaningful talks about school, college, the future, finances, the Bible, personal convictions, and how much money it costs to buy a new or used car! 

While I'll be relieved when we are all able to ride together again, I'm taking time to appreciate this extra blessing.

Milestones

I remember when Gavin was a little boy and couldn't remember which shoe went on what foot.  To help him, I printed with permanent marker on the inside of each shoe.  On the left shoe, I wrote GA and the right shoe, VIN.  Before running outside, he would place his shoes so that his name was spelled correctly, and then he would be sure his shoes were on the proper feet.

Last week he started complaining that his sneakers were too tight.  The new shoes that we bought him are adult mens', size 9!  He is not a little boy anymore.

I am not overly sentimental and I'm one who longs for the days when my kids were tiny, but I am aware of the passage of time.  Gavin will be thirteen in a few weeks so the time with him in our home is fleeting. 

"You don't even know what tomorrow will bring-- what your life will be! For you are like smoke that appears for a little while, then vanishes." James 4:14 (HCS) 

I am savoring the days as I watch him grow into a man.

Parenting the Older Child

{I want to preface this post by answering the question everyone is asking.  Or maybe you're not. Though  our youngest child is creeping up on 5-years-old, Brian and I do not claim that our family is "done" or "complete." We are living in a season of contentment and trust, with the assurance that God has full control of the future of our family.  While it doesn't seem that it is His plan to bring us more children right now, we don't know our tomorrow.  This post is written from the path I am living now-- a house devoid of babies and toddlers.}

I was talking with a friend a few months ago and she asked me I find that mothering gets harder as my kids get older.  She was wondering if the trials of toddler-hood seem inconsequential when the elementary and early teen years hit. I can say with confidence that watching my children grow into the people God wants them to be is an immense pleasure, worth every minute of  uncertainty or worry on my part. I'm sure every mother has a varying idea of what makes mothering difficult, but for me, being the mom of older children is not harder.  It is simply (or not-so-simply) different. 

I no longer have a nursing baby that travels everywhere I go and no one clings to my leg as I walk out the door.  I don't cook dinner with a baby on my hip or with someone whining in a high chair.  I don't keep a stroller in the back of my van, buy diapers at the grocery store, or carry extra clothes in my purse.  I don't sleep with one ear open to a little one's stirrings and I get seven hours of sleep almost every night. It's been years since a child has colored with crayon on the walls. Major spills don't happen daily and if someone does spill a whole cup of milk, they usually clean it up themselves.  I know longer have to buckle any seat-belts besides my own.

I'm learning, though, that the mom of older children needs to employ an entirely new set of skills.

I'm learning to keep my mouth shut when my kids pick out their clothing in the morning. I'm teaching hygiene and reminding them (over and over and over) why it is important to take a shower and brush their teeth. I'm having to speak on the touchy subject of deodorant. I'm talking about why we eat healthy foods even if we don't like them.  

Mothering older children takes me beyond meeting physical needs, too. I am creating a place of safety-- not just physical safety, but a place to voice concerns and feel secure.  I listen without interrupting. I show interest in endless Lego talk, try not zone out when she's telling a story about what she saw when she took the dog for a walk, and  laugh at corny jokes. 

I guide them in how to work out disagreements, remind them not to tattle, and demonstrate kind speech.  This is an area wit which we struggle daily.  Some days the arguing escalates until I want to pull my hair out!

I model hospitality, inviting people into our home and letting the kids clean, cook, and prepare alongside me. When taking meals to those in need, I loosen the grip on my controlling tendencies and let them help decide what to bring.  We shop, cook, and deliver as a team.

I'm teaching stewardship-- with their money and the things that we own.  I have to guide them in money management while letting them be free to make their own decisions.

I spend more time in the van, driving them to various activities.  Our grocery bill is higher because bigger people equals bigger appetites. The laundry is out of control. The bathroom rarely stays clean for more than a day.

I'm a firm believer that all the effort of the baby and toddler years will pay dividends-- that speaking soothing words to a cranky baby, loosing sleep with a child who wakes multiple times at night, handling tantrums, feeding picky eaters, and all the many, many frustrating tasks we perform as moms, will lay a firm foundation for the elementary and teen years.

So, yes, mothering older children is different, more complicated perhaps, but one of the most joyful undertakings we can imagine.

Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him.   James 1:12

Words of Life

I spoke of my trepidation about the next school year.  Perhaps you harbor some fear, too. 

I have been meditating on these words today from Exodus 33:

Moses said to the Lord, “You have been telling me, ‘Lead these people,’ but you have not let me know whom you will send with me. You have said, ‘I know you by name and you have found favor with me.’ ”

The Lord replied, “My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.” 

Then Moses said to him, “If your Presence does not go with us, do not send us up from here.

 “Now show me your glory.”

Planning Ahead

My blogging friend (and real-life friend), Michelle, and I have a spring tradition. Sometime in February or March we start talking plans for the coming school year.  We're both planners and thinkers, plus we find inspiration through curriculum talk and trading ideas.

Admittedly, when she brought up the topic last week I had to say, "I haven't thought much about it yet." 

That's not really true.  I've given it plenty of thought, but I feel uninspired and a little scared so my thoughts have not transformed into plans on paper.  I have time-- months worth of time, really.  There are at least two months left before  this school year is complete and the next one doesn't start until August, but it's unusual for me.  Most of the time, I'm excitedly sketching out a plan in advance because there are so many fascinating topics I want to cover and books I want my kids to read.

Why the fear this year?  Next year, I will have 5 kids in school-- ranging from Alaine entering kindergarten all the way up to Gavin in eighth grade.  That's more than a little overwhelming to me.  I already feel a little stretched with four, juggling pre-algebra and phonics on a daily basis.  I want to do this homeschooling thing well, but I constantly question whether I'm giving each child the attention and help they need.  I worry about this every year.  Yes, every year.  I'm a type-A personality times ten!

I also worry about gaps in my kids' education.  Gavin only has five years of school left.  What if he gets to twelfth grade and we realize we forgot something?! I know that is a largely irrational thought.  Learning is a lifetime pursuit.  But, I still have a kid who struggles to spell our last name (let alone the words of a spelling test) and another several who very slowly do their math facts on their fingers.  Gaps in their education is a very real fear.

It comes down to trust-- trust in the Father who is leading us this year and will continue to lead us on our homeschool and life journey.  I know I am not adequate on my own, but He knows what is best for each one of my children.  He will give wisdom and strength, patience and guidance.

I  have started compiling a few ideas in my head, considering some learning topics that might work for us.  Also I have tentatively started looking up some new products (to us), so I'll be back later this week or next to share a few.

Have you started thinking about your next homeschool year? How many kids will you be teaching? 

Do you have any homeschool fears?  I'd love to pray for you!

A Clean House and Other Misconceptions

Around the beginning of January, I asked on Facebook for ideas of writing topics this year.  My real-life friend, Allyson said, "I want to know if your house is always as clean as it is when I see it."

My short answer is no. 

You can't see my house right now with the wet towel crumpled in the kitchen floor and dirty cups scattered on the counter. You don't see the crooked bedspreads and the sheets that needed to be changed last week and the bag of stuff for Goodwill that's been hanging out in the floor since yesterday. You didn't see the toilet paper and puddle of water I mopped up from behind the toilet, the other puddle where someone missed the toilet altogether, and the toothpaste splatters on the sink a few hours ago. You don't see the stuffed fish and the little jar of lip gloss fallen on its side on the coffee table right in front of me.

No, my house is not always as clean as it looks when I prepare for guests.

The longer answer is more complicated. 

I like a clean and neat house so I do work to keep it that way.  Sure, our house is lived in and there's daily evidence that seven people share this space (see above), but it's a rare day now when the clutter or dust in our house get out of control.

I could tell you how I clean a little bit each day.  I rarely do a whole-house, scrub-from-top-to-bottom clean. I might vacuum a couple of rooms one day.  Clean a bathroom another.  Wipe a window sill when it gets dusty...

I could tell you how we won't go to bed with a messy house. I could tell you how I've taught my kids to make their beds every morning and how they all know how to pitch in to straighten the living room or dry the dishes or start a load of laundry.

But the thing is, each of us is different and each of our homes is different.  Neither of us lives under the same circumstances so we can't compare our lives or our homes to those of anyone else. No one has your temperament, your personality, the same number of kids you have with the identical ages, and your health status. No one is married to your husband with his work schedule. No one shares the responsibilities you have at church or school or home or work.

2 Corinthians 12:9 says, " 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me."


The Lord guides each of us as individuals. He knows each of us intimately and it is freeing when we abandon the comparison game, when we no longer have to strive to meet a standard that we were never asked to meet.

When we are weak, He is strong.

Proverbs 3:5-6

It's a scripture I've read many times.  Maybe you have, too. I always subconsciously assume that a straight path signifies an easy path.  If I surrender my way to the Lord, He's going to make the way easy, but as I've been praying through an issue recently, I've had new insight. 

As a runner, I don't find any road easy.  Whether it is straight or curved, hilly or flat, it is still effort.

A straight road does not mean an easy road.

A straight road can be long.  When I begin, I don't often know what I'll find at the end.

But when I travel a straight road I have no question  about the direction I'm heading.

When the Lord promises us a straight road, He does not guarantee ease, but He does promise that He will make our direction clear.

On Worry, Schedules, and School Anxiety

I love our summer break from school. I know people who rave about their year-round schedule, but for me, summer is a time to regroup.  I spend many of summer's days thinking about what I want to accomplish in the next year, what needs to stay the same, and how we can do things differently.  I enjoy choosing new curriculum. I scour the internet for deals and make library lists.  I dream during the summer.

But I also worry during the summer.  My mind whirls in all direction and I lay awake at night thinking.


I get scared.  I wonder if I am too easy on my kids.  Do I let them skip over the hard things in an effort to make it easier on me?

Then I fear that I'm too hard on them and don't show enough patience, that I'm not a good teacher. I worry that, as they get older, school will take so much of our time that, to do it well, I'll neglect other areas of our lives.

Homeschooling is not for the faint of heart. Helping a son with pre-algebra while teaching another son to read is hard.  It's a fact. What if I focus on one child and neglect another?

And how,with out days so stuffed to the seams with living now, will we possibly have time to add school back into our day in the fall?

Trying to get my thoughts together, I started writing out a daily schedule for our fall term.  I penciled in notes of how to cover each subject.  Instead of doing every subject every day all year long, I'm rotating music, science, typing, and health through the days of the week: music on Monday, typing on Friday, etc. Other subjects I'm planning in chunks.  We'll spend all of August through October focusing on architecture for our art credit and then begin history for the year in November.

While putting my thoughts on paper and having a feel for how things will fit together next year does work to calm my brain, it also stirs up new questions.  Will this plan work?  What if it doesn't?  What happens if we miss a few days of school? Can I be flexible and let my kids enjoy learning or will I drag them down with my rigidity?

Then one morning last week during my morning devotions I opened my Bible to Psalm 20 and read :

May the Lord answer you when you are in distress; may the name of the God of Jacob protect you... Now this I know: The Lord gives victory to his anointed.  He answers him from his heavenly sanctuary with the victorious power of his right hand. Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God.

I immediately felt my load lighten.  This worry, this anxiety... it's unnecessary.  Horses or chariots might not be my downfall, but to me it can read  "Some trust in schedules..." or "Some trust in curriculum..." or "Some trust in planning everything out to the very minute..."

But we trust in the name of the Lord our God.

Yes, it's a good idea to make a plan and it is wise to consider the options and be intentional to accomplish noble goals, but it's ultimately not in my hands, nor should it be.

Admittedly, I still harbor some anxiety about the coming months.  It's hard not to feel uncertain about the unknown, but I know I can abandon my worry and sleep in peace because I'm trusting Him to lead our days.

a Half Marathon Report: Details, Details

On Monday, I shared a few things that surprised me as I ran my first half-marathon last weekend.  Today I'm ready to delve into the nitty-gritty and tell you more than you'd ever want to know about my experience from way before the start and all the way beyond the finish line.

Preparation: Last fall, I began contemplating training for a race longer than a 5K.  I assumed that a 10K was my next step, but while talking with my sister-in-law, Sarah, on Thanksgiving I expressed doubt that I could increase my mileage and she said, "I know you can run a half-marathon!" It watered the seed that had been germinating in my mind.  I gave myself more time to think about it, but by Christmas, I knew that it's what I wanted to do and so in early January, I registered for a late April half-marathon.  The race I chose was not an out-and-back course.  It was a point-to-point course that went from one beach to another.

Sending in my registration made it official so I jumped into preparations. I put in many, many hours of training.  I chose a 3-day-a-week training program as a guide, and also cross-trained two days a week. I ran in sleet, snow, wind, rain, and sun.  I read books and articles about running.  I listened to podcasts from other runners. I talked to other runners.  I got up early and completed 4- and 6-mile runs before Brian ever left for work in the morning.  I put in Saturday morning hours completing long, lonely 10- and 12-mile runs. I motivated myself by saying, "I can do this for 7 more weeks (or 6 more or 5 more...)."

Goals: Having only begun running less than 18 months before and having never run a race longer than a 5K, I was hesitant to set goals that were too ambitious. I looked at several online race calculators to get an idea about a reasonable time goal for me.  I wanted to push myself, but I didn't want to set myself up for failure. Based on my previous 5K times, the calculators recommended running a pace of between 9:42-9:48 per mile which would have me running the entire 13.1 mile course in about 2 hours, 7 minutes.  Knowing that the wind blowing off the water, my inexperience, running with a crowd, or other factors could affect my goals, I decided to make my goal finish the race somewhere between 2 hours, 7 minutes and 2 hours, 10 minutes.

During my training, I heard the advice that you should also set non-time goals so I set a few of those as well: 

• Finish the race.  
• Run the course without stopping for any walk breaks. 
• Maintain even or negative splits (meaning that each mile is run at approximately the same pace or faster than the one before it).

The Starting Line:The morning of the race was damp and windy.  Though the thermometer read low 50s, it felt far colder. I debated about what to wear.  I get cold easily, but I also didn't want to overheat once the sun came up.  I ended up decided on pink shorts with knee-high socks to keep my legs warm and a green and white long sleeve tech shirt that had loose sleeves so I could push them up if I got too warm. I threw on a light weight black tech pullover before I left the house, meaning to gear-check it along with my phone and have it waiting for me at the finish line.  However, when I turned in my bag, I forgot to include the shirt so I was stuck with it.  (This will come into play later in my story.)

The first thing I did when I got the starting destination was get in line for the bathroom.  I waited and waited and waited for twenty-five minutes. The longer I waited, the more nervous I got that I wouldn't get to the starting line on time. I passed the time chatting with a friend who was also running the race, and making small talk with runners around us in line.

Go!: As it turns out, I needn't have been worried about my long wait for the bathroom because the race was delayed by thirty minutes. That gave me more time for my hands to start shaking-- whether from nerves or the cold, I don't know.  

When the race finally began, the mass of people started to inch forward. We were told that there were 2751 registered racers, representing 35 states and 2 countries. (There was also a 5K that morning with over 700 runners.) The race was chip timed, meaning every runner had an electronic strip on the back of their race bib which did not start keeping time until that individual reached the starting line. It stopped calculating once he or she crossed the finish line.

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The first part of the race was exhilarating.  There were so many people surrounding me that I didn't have time to think about how many miles were in front of me.  Running only a few feet away was the youngest runner of the half-marathon, a 9-year-old boy.

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I had to keep my speed in check, though.  It's too easy to let the excitement of the race get the better of me and start out too fast and then burn out before the race is complete. I set my watch to beep if I started running faster than my goal pace.

Within the first mile, we faced our one and only hill, but with fresh legs, I hardly felt the incline.

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By mile 3 the runners began to thin out and I started to dwell on the run ahead of me.  At this point, I turned on my iPod and focused on setting a steady pace.  At mile 4, the race course left the main road and took a 1-mile loop through a neighborhood. As I was entering the neighborhood, there were runners of all genders and ages exiting the neighborhood, almost a full mile ahead of me. Many of them were cheering for us and we cheered for them.  I love how the running community is so encouraging!

Half Way Point: A few minutes past the hour mark,  I ran by two women in the middle of a conversation. One girl said to the other, "How are you doing?" to which her friend replied, "I don't know. I'm dying out here." I looked down at my watch and saw we were at the 6.5 mile mark and thought, "Wow!  I'm halfway through!" and then I thought, "Oh, I've still got halfway to go."   In reality, though, I was still feeling great.  My legs weren't tired and my breathing was even.

That was until I looked down and saw that my shoelace had come untied. I moved over the edge and squatted down to quickly retie. It took no more than 15 seconds, but when I started running again, my legs were like lead.  It took about 5 minutes to loose that heavy feeling and get back into my groove. 

Around mile 8, I was starting to long for the finish line.  A boy on the sidelines held a sign that read "You thought this was a good idea 4 months ago."  It made me chuckle.

The Finish Line: At mile 10, I hit a wall. I didn't feel like I could go on, but stopping would leave me 3 miles from the finish line. I felt my legs slowing down and I felt cranky, but I did my best to push through the negative feelings. At mile 11, we ran onto the bridge that would take us to the finish line and my spirits buoyed.  Coming off the bridge there were spectators lining both sides of the street-- cheering, waving, and holding signs.  I loved the sign that read "Run, stranger, run!"

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When my watch rolled over to the 12 mile mark, I knew I was almost there, but that last mile was hard. The course took us down the boardwalk, away from the finish line. I couldn't see the turn-around point and every step away from my destination was torture. When we finally turned and starting heading back to the finish line, it was easier mentally, but my legs were asking to be done.

Finally we rounded the corner and the finish line was in sight. I looked around for Brian who had planned to be watching from the finish line, but I couldn't spot him among the crowd. I gave a extra push (which didn't amount to much) and crossed the finishers' mat!

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I made it!  I  reached the end of the road-- not just the one I had started down 2 hours previously, but the one that truly began 4 months ago.

Beyond the Finish Line: The minute I stopped running, my legs started to cramp. Members of the Coast Guard stood by the finish line handing out medals.  I immediately put mine around my neck and kept walking toward the snack tables. My first thought was that I needed water. I also took a bag of pretzels and a granola bar even though I wasn't hungry.

Moving was the only thing that helped my aching legs so I began walking around looking for Brian. When I found him, he still had his eyes on the finish line.  I startled him when I walked up behind him and touched his back.  He had missed my finish and was still waiting for me to cross. Remember how I didn't gear-check my black shirt but left it on instead? He was looking for my green and white shirt so he never saw me pass by.  As the time clock ticked farther and farther past my goal time, he started to feel disappointed for me, thinking that the race had been harder than I anticipated. Though we were both sorry he had missed my big moment, he was relieved that I was not crying back at mile 12, struggling to finish!

Evaluating My Goals: So how did I do? My goal time was to finish with a time between 2:07 and 2:10.  My official time was 2:10:04 ! According to my watch, I ran 13.22 miles (a little more than the typical 13.1) and ran it at a 9:52 minute per mile pace.

I also had three non-time goals: 

• Finish the race Yes!
• Run the course without stopping for any walk breaks. Unless you count that brief stop to retie my shoe, I did not stop.
• Maintain even or negative splits (meaning that each mile is run at approximately the same or faster than the one before it) I did really well with this until I completed ten miles and then it started going downhill. The next time I run a half-marathon, I'll attempt to improve that and finish just as strongly as I began. However, I'm still pleased with how long I was able to maintain.
  
  

Afterward:  Post race, my body was tired all over. I was ravenous. I couldn't get enough to eat, and eating a snack just made me want to eat more! My leg and hip muscles were stiff and achy. My toes were sore, though the worst I suffered was a bruised toe and chipped toe nail polish.

On Sunday I was still unusually hungry. My muscles were no longer stiff but they still ached. Monday was much better and on Tuesday, I went for my first post-race run-- an easy 3 miles-- and felt wonderful. It's funny how after all the intense running of the previous months, 3 miles felt short.

Now I'm facing a few post-race blues.  For months I've had a training plan guiding me and it's hard to adjust to not having a direction or a major goal.  How often do I run? How hard?  How far? Where do I go from here?

Things That Surprised Me About Running a Half Marathon

I ran my first half-marathon on Saturday.  Yes, I said first.  There were moments during the race when I thought to myself, "Why am I putting myself through this?!" But now that I've completed it, I know there will be more in my future. I plan to write a full race report (with more details that you'd ever want to know), but I wanted to start with sharing a list of things that I didn't expect on race day.

1) Going to the bathroom is a big deal.  This may be TMI, but I was constantly reminded of runners' need to run with an empty bladder.  Before the start, the line to the porta-potties trailed down much of the parking lot.  It took me 25 minutes to reach the front of the line.  (I passed the time talking to a friend and making a few new friends.) After the race was underway, there were constantly runners-- men and women-- dodging into and out of the woods.  Constantly.  Even within the first few miles.

2) I was amazed at how energizing it was to run with a crowd.  There were 2302 finishers in the half-marathon so you can imagine the mass of people at the starting line.  I literally did not run alone for even a minute of the race, though it did thin out as runners set their own pace.  At the beginning of the race I let myself enjoy the camaraderie and excitement and I didn't need to turn on my iPod for musical entertainment (or distraction, depending on which way you look at it!) until after mile 3.

3) Different road surfaces "grated" on my nerves.  For the first two-thirds of the race, I was unaffected, but around mile 10, I had had enough of running and I was cranky.  When the course took us through a small covered bridge with a wooden plank floor, I couldn't wait to return to pavement.  It was flat and just felt better under my feet.  A little before mile 12, we ran over another bridge.  Looking down through the drawbridge grates were nerve-wracking enough, as you could look at your feet and see straight down to the bay, but the bumpy surface was also irritating. The last half mile was run on the boardwalk and the sound of my feet hitting the wood drove me crazy, too.

4) My legs felt pain they've never felt before. I don't know what I expected post-race, but after a regular run, I've never had more than very minor muscle soreness. On Saturday, the second I stopped racing, my legs starting cramping.  It was not like the muscle cramps that can wake you out of a dead sleep at night, but it felt like someone was squeezing or tightening my leg muscles and wouldn't let up. I've read that if that happens, the best remedy is to keep moving so I did.  I kept walking for the next 45 minutes, but the dull, persistent cramping continued, mostly in my left calf and right thigh. Standing still was the worst.  When I finally sat down on a bench to get something out of my bag, the pain did not increase so I continued to alternate walking or sitting for another 30 minutes, but never standing still. 

By Sunday, my pain was downgraded to plain-old muscle soreness. Granted, it was every muscle in my legs and hips, but at least I could walk, sit, stand, and function at a slow normal.  I guess I underestimated what the intensity of the race would temporarily do to my body.

5) Oh, the hunger! I typically don't feel like eating after a long run and the race was no different. However, I know how crucial it is to refuel after putting your body through such rigors so I grabbed a bag of pretzels and some water at the finish line. Once my stomach settled, I ate the free pizza offered to all runners. That's when the floodgates opened.  Pizza never tasted so good. For the rest of the day and all day Sunday, I couldn't get enough to eat. Eating a snack--whether it was a banana, almonds, or a bowl of oatmeal-- only revved up my metabolism and made me even hungrier.

7 Things I'm Learning on the Way to a Half Marathon

Linking up with Emily Freeman to share a few things I learned in February. 
...also linking to The Month That Was (@ Creative Home Keeper).

7 Things I Learned in February
(While Training for a Half-Marathon)

1) Mittens are the way to go. When  temperatures drop below freezing, gloves do not cut it. I've heard it said that gloves are like putting 10 individual popsicles in their own wrappers.  Yes! Mittens let fingers share body heat and keep hands warmer. 

2) Whether I am hungry or not, I must eat immediately after a long run.  I learned this the hard way.  After one of my first long runs (8 miles), I didn't feel hungry.  In fact, I felt slightly nauseous so I waited before grabbing a snack.  By the time, I decided to eat, I was shaky and weak, plus I was sluggish and run down the rest of the day.  I didn't feel "normal" again until almost 24 hours later.   Now I know to eat right away to begin replacing my body's glycogen (energy) stores.

3) Nutrition mid-run isn't a bad idea either.  I know it's important to fuel your body if you are going to be running for longer than an hour, but I didn't like the idea of taking in the artificial nutrients of sports gels or chews. I experimented with a few options and settled on carrying pitted dates with me when I do my long runs.  They look like giant raisins. I love them because they are sweeter and chewier than raisins but less sticky, if that makes any sense at all.

4) While we're on the topic of food, training for a half marathon makes me hungry.  I look forward to every single meal.  I literally go to bed thinking about what I'm going to eat when I get up.  I've always eaten breakfast out of necessity, not desire...until now.

5) Music motivates me for speed runs.  Podcasts keep me occupied on long runs.

6) Running with a partner makes time go by quickly. Brian has no interest in running long, but he does run a mile about 3 times a week. Whenever we can coordinate it, I run my first mile with him before continuing on alone.  It's amazing how fast that first mile passes.  I wish I had a running partner to stick with me for longer mileage. 

7)  I curl the toes on my left foot when I run.  I catch myself doing it out of habit, but I pay for it later.  So far...3 blood blisters and 1 black toenail.  I'll spare you the photo for that one!