Half-training, week 1 (or 2?)

So, we are in full-swing of half-marathon training. I was using a plan that I couldn't follow well, so "using" is a term I use lightly. I switched back to my tried-and-true Hal Higdon. When I ran Knoxville, I used Higdon's Novice 2 plan. This race, I have gone up a step to the Intermediate plan and am tweaking it a bit.

Yesterday, I ran the long run that's officially scheduled for week 2, but I'm OCD and being off schedule just doesn't work for me. So, my week 1 was week 2. I know. I'm unnecessarily complicated. The last half, I did the majority of my training on the treadmill which did NOT prepare me for such a hilly race. I made a resolve to run hills as much as possible for my next one. Now, this race is flat and could easily be trained on a treadmill. Oh well, such is life. 

Lee and I decided to do long runs yesterday because of the snow/ice storm that is upon us today. I ran 6, Lee ran 9. I'm getting much better at pacing myself for long, slow distances and really enjoyed my run.

(If you see me running and my hands are raised, chances are, I'm not in need; just "raising my praiser")

I have gotten SEVERAL messages asking about what my clothing attire is that enables me to love winter running so much. (I think it's weird that some of my major training times have been in the winter.)

Some of these are year-round staples and some are winter (some are also pricey. Think Christmas gifts and knowing that these last for years and years):

1) Garmin GPS watch. Lee has a fancy, expensive one that he hates. I have a simple, much cheaper one, that I love. It clocks distance, time, average pace, enables you to set timers for speed work. It's small and fits well on my very small wrists. (You can do similar things with the Run Keeper app. I just enjoy freedom from my phone. "13.1 miles of peace and quiet")

2) Running shoes made for YOU. I am a supinator that runs on the outside of my feet. The only shoes that work for me are the Mizuno Wave Riders. I opt for the older models to get cheaper prices. 

2b) I also have a pair of goretex shoes that I save for rainy and snowy days (Look for "GTX" after the model name). Mizuno doesn't make them, so I got a pair of Brooks in a neutral footing. I have had this pair for 3 years bc I only use them when necessary.

3) Marmot Variant jacket. I read about this in Fitness magazine and got one on clearance. It is a MUST HAVE. Down in the front and a thick water repellent material on the arms and back. Thumb holes keep gloves in rock and an inside pocket keeps iPods dry. 

4) Smart Wool running socks. Love them and only need them when the temps are below 35

5) Running tights. I have 2 pair, 1 pair is brand new and only ran in them yesterday. I have run in a pair of Nike's for a few years that are wonderful, buti f the temps dip in the lower 30's or less, I require an extra layer. Lee has been running in the CW-X insulator tights for a few years and I broke down and bought a pair for the Turkey Trot race (that got cancelled.). I ran in them yesterday in the snow and the temps in the upper 20s and was super warm dry (they're water repellent, too).

Other staples are dry-fit shirts under the Marmot, wicking socks for when it's not super cold (I think I got mine at Target or TJ Maxx). I'm currently running in a pair of fleece gloves from Walmart for $2.99. I always keep a tube of chapstick in my pocket and slather my face in a super thick moisturizer before running to keep my face from hurting. (I'm using this Mary Kay product) Also, I had a horrible time last year with keeping my ears warm until my friend, Cindy, told me about the Bondi Bands. ("Will run for chocolate!")

In the past, I felt horribly guilty for leaving Nina at home (with supervision, of course.) while I went running. Then a friend of mine posted this last week on Facebook and completely changed my outlook on my training. 

I am aware that the list, when added all together, is pricey (And running is supposed to be a cheap sport!). These are things to gradually acquire and to hint and save for. Not all things are must haves for everyone. Hoping a few of my favorite running things may help you! Happy training!

To Dream a Dream

Meet the Walker women. We are basically 5 peas in a pod. A pod that stretches across 3,000 miles, but a pod, nonetheless. (Auntie lives in Seattle) I'm not talking about the fact that 3/5 of us walk with our feet turned out (That's the Stewart in us; Nannie's feet are straight and Lee's genes of turning in were more dominant in Nina), that we often get choked (embarrassingly) on our own saliva, are annoyingly strongly independent, or that we can keep secrets well (as long as not from each other).

(True story: Lee has been known to time us to see how long it takes for news to travel through the whole Walker Women Phone Tree. I never heard the exact results, but it wasn't long.)

Today, I am talking about our weird dreams. WEIRD, Y'ALL. Nannie taught 2nd grade and, after Grandad passed away, she also ran the family exterminating business. She once dreamed that there were little green men jumping out of cinder blocks. She also dreamed that there were alligators in the creek that ran behind her school that swallowed one of her students. She singlehandedly opened the mouth of the gator and removed the boy. This is just the iceberg of our crazy dreams.

When Lee and I first got married, I would wake up to his hazel eyes staring at me. Not in the "I could lie awake, just to hear you breathing... and I don't want to miss a thing" type of stare but as to say "hurry up and tell me every detail before you forget" stare. Often times, I think he has wished my dreams weren't so vivid. For example, one night I dreamed he cheated on me with an Asian lady named "Tamiflu". (Totally during the Swine Flu epidemic.) He might not like them, but he is always fascinated.

Last night, I dreamed that we walked in our house to find that someone had stolen the middle section of our Christmas tree. (Please no angry messages about real trees vs. artificial. I'M ALLERGIC TO ALL FORMS OF NATURE. THEY CAN'T COME IN MY HOUSE, lest I perish. Not really. Hopefully.)

(Even though I did have my eye swell shut during an allergy shot when my tolerance for dust mites reached the top)

(That was after 2 benadryl. I went to the grocery store after. Ain't nobody gonna break my style...)

Anyway. Middle section of the tree was gone. I see the gentlemen collecting our recycling and ask if they know anything about it. They said it was a man that hated me. He had come to our wedding and hated it, therefore, hated me. (Had to have been one of those weird TLC shows) I called a friend of mine who is a police officer and he said "You could involve the cops. But, let's be honest: steal his tree back!" I decided to wait in my house by the window that they had obviously climbed through, locked it, and waited for them to return. And like every good dream: of course they did! I grabbed them by the hands and pulled them in the living room where they got a good solid tongue lashing. I informed them how ridiculous it was to steal the middle section of the tree and how the law enforcement agents had advised me to RIP OUT THE MIDDLE OF THEIR TREE. He said "Now, just because I got a little naughty doesn't mean you have to act so hastily." And I said "Sir. You may be naughty, but I will continue to be nice." and I woke up. 

Intense, y'all. Who steals the middle of a tree?! Still not over it. I totally should have at least stolen the bow off his wreath. 

I got this email from my loving husband today: 

(Shows how well he listens; THEY CAME IN THROUGH THE WINDOW!)

Several years ago, I had a reoccurring dream that I talked about with our pastor who has a degree in counseling. He (correctly) identified some underlying fears in my life. After those dreams stopped, I had a dream that I had a purple pet shark that I walked on a leash. He told me I must have eaten too closely to bed time. I think it's a Walker woman trait that we are blessed to have. There are few places more entertaining than our brains. 

'Tis the season

One thing most people don't realize about me, is that I am an introvert. Most people assume that because I am loud and rarely take a breath in my conversations, that I an an extrovert. But, I'm not. I am a social hermit. I like people, but would rather be at my house with the curtains pulled in my family bubble. 

Because of this, the thought of shopping on Black Friday is enough to send this hermit into a closet with an inhaler. Crowds. Angry crowds. Shoving, loud, touching-me, I-want-that-but-refuse-to-stand-in-line-for-2-hours. Crowds. 

(When Lee and I were engaged, we attempted Black Friday shopping. I made it 10 minutes before exiting Staples, proclaiming that I would never shop again. Oh, how he wishes I was being honest.)

So, fast forward to now, the first Christmas that Nina really seems to get the concept of Christmas. Until recently, all she had asked for was a bicycle helmet for her Baby Alma, the American Girl Biddy Baby. Funny thing: THEY DON'T MAKE THEM! They have helmets for the American Girl, which is 1 1/4" smaller of a head circumference than the Biddy Baby. We looked on amazon, toysrus... They don't make them. We have resigned ourselves to getting a foam ball and hollowing it out and covering it in duct tape. Oh, how my non-crafty soul cries. 

But, come on! Even though we try to keep Christmas somewhat under control, I feel the need to spend more than $2.50 on my child for Christmas. (And a homemade present. Homemade by me. The girl deserves much more than her Christmas morning joy revolving around the craft of a girl who got a B in junior high art.)

Nina finally decided that she wants the Doc McStuffins check up center. I find it on toysrus.com and decided that I would pick it up while in Clarksburg for Senior High Convention. Great idea! HOWEVER, APPARENTLY AMERICA SOLD OUT OF THE ONE PRESENT MY CHILD HAS ASKED FOR BETWEEN THURSDAY AND SATURDAY. Walmart.com said that there was "Limited stock" at the Fairmont store. So, I skipped out on Saturday night of SHC, and headed to Fairmont. Apparently "Limited Stock" means "Never had them". After calling every Walmart in an hour radius of Knoxville (and a brother with keys ready at 10:45 on a Saturday night), I decided that I was going to end up being a crazy mom fighting in Walmart over the last Doc McStuffins checkup center. (NO! YOU CANT HAVE THAT!! HOW ELSE WILL MY DAUGHTER FIX MY CRAZY-PERSONITIS IF I DONT HAVE THIS?!) 

(I can feel your judgment from across the screen.)

Yesterday, on a whim, I happened to check walmart online for stock in Beckley. "Limited stock" which, as we know, means nothing more than another disappointed elf. I mustered up my "Please help me" voice and called my mom. She answered her phone. AND WAS AT WALMART! And just saw a woman with a check up center in her buggy. She was like a bloodhound on a trail, and FOUND THE CHECK UP CENTER!!! I'm sure there was great rejoicing in all of the heavenlies! (No nasty comments. I know I'm being dramatic.) 

So, here is to an incredible mom and a relieved elf. 

(After posting this, I saw that mom bought Fritos. My junk food soul rejoices!)

Merry Christmas, y'all. (After Thursday, of course. Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday and we will be all Turkeys and Pilgrims for 48 more hours.)

 (In the snow. Even Mother Nature is being a holiday skipper. Losing battle.)

I'm moving on

Last weekend, I was a hot mess. There are no other words to describe it. Friday night was nice and relaxing. Then, on Saturday, the tears started around lunch time and didn't stop for a few days. My hormones were equaling out (Those pesky things are so dangerous) and I had the dread of Monday's appointment. The day we found out we miscarried, they scheduled another appointment a week later to be sure of the loss. The next week, another ultrasound and appointment (of which, I won't lie, a glimmer of hope still existed) confirmed that not only had I miscarried, but a D & C was necessary since my body didn't seem to be doing its job. I had a checkup two weeks after the D & C to talk and make a game plan for the future. All weekend, all I could think was that I was about to go to a third appointment to confirm that our baby had died. At this point, the knowledge of the loss had gone on for nearly a month and I was ready to move on. After sobbing, nearly nonstop for 48 hours (I somehow pulled it together for church), it was appointment time. My hcg levels had returned to 0, and like that, a peace washed over me.No more ultrasounds, appointments,  or dread.  It was over. As much as I wanted to hold on to a hope that the ultrasound would miraculously find a heartbeat or the doctor would give me a sentence of bed rest, he didn't. We could finally wake up from our nightmare and begin to dream again.

Due to the D & C, our doctor has asked us to wait several months before trying again, to reduce the risk of another miscarriage. While, ready (I couldn't say "happy") to oblige, we knew we needed a new goal to focus on to get us through until (prayerfully) we have another healthy baby ready to join our crazy family. So, our craziness has settled in our favorite (well, Lee's favorite. Some days, it is debatable if it's my favorite) activity: running.

(When we ran the Knoxville half-marathon, we were separated by corrals by our projected finish time. Lee was a 1:45 projection and mine was a 2:15 projection. Our feelings towards this sport could best be defined by the shirts in our corrals. Lee's was full of shirts saying things like "I love running" and multiple marathon shirts. My corral was full of "I hate running" and tutus. It was a beautiful indication of our level of competition per corral.)

We have chosen to run the Myrtle Beach half-marathon on Valentine's weekend. I find although half-marathons are harder on my body and take a lot more time to train, it is much easier on my mind than 5k's. I HATE 5k races. Mostly, because I am NOT fast and even though running is a sport where you're not competing against anyone but yourself, I basically spend 30 minutes degrading myself about my speed and how if I hadn't cut last week's run 10 minutes short, I could have knocked minutes off of my time (Totally not true.) (Except for cutting my run short. That part is normally always true). Melissa is going to run it too, making it her first half. I learned from her the value of goal setting, in the form of physical activity as a reprieve from grief. I have learned that one of the best ways to fulfill a goal is to be as public as possible with it. So, here it is. February 15, here we come. (We're trying to talk several other people to go with us to the race. You still have PLENTY of time to train and my goodness, rooms at the beach are CHEAP!)

The day we found out we had lost the baby, I was in the waiting room waiting to talk to the doctor and I saw one of my favorite scriptures on the wall, directly behind Lee's head: "For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11

Today, I am clinging to Romans 15:13 "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." Do it, Lord. fill me to overflowing.

Friday Night Lights

It's a Friday night in the Fall. Tonight, the school where I teach is playing our only in-county rivalry in football. (Of which we won 54-0) It is also senior night. Many of my sweet students looked at me and said "Mrs. Boso, are you coming tonight?" My answer was "no". This is a multi-reasoned "no":

1) Lee is attending his annual version of jock-fest and soaking up as much of WV high school soccer as possible. Our NCHS boys haven't made it to the state tournament yet, but Lee never misses it. Tonight, he had a blast while sitting with his biggest rivalry's coach and watching the team that kicked our whole region's tail advance to the state championship. (Good luck, Pikeview! Make our region proud!) With that said, I am home with my favorite 3 year old. My students begged me to bring her. In 32 degree weather. That would totally increase my chances of mother-of-the-year. (I would hate for it to be outdone by our incredibly nutritious dinner made for us this evening by Chef Boyardee.)

2) After the miscarriage and all that entailed, this was my first 5-day work week in a long time. I am pooped. As 3:20 mark approached, I began to nearly get giddy in my seat. Maybe that's why I work well with teenagers: because I still act like one. I needed the weekend and I needed it now. I seriously ran home and put on my favorite candy cane pajama pants and reheated leftovers for dinner. I needed the curtains to be pulled at 4:30 and to be securely in my happy family bubble. (That's a lot of "needs". It shows my desperation for the weekend)

So, I love my students and the school where I work. But today, my needed to keep my daughter out of freezing temperatures and my need to be an extreme social hermit won out.

Don't be alarmed by my classy snack and clean eating (literally). I'm watching Julie and Julia, which is a movie about fancy cooking. It totally balances out to be basic middle-class cooking. 

What to think when you're thinking of nothing

I am often described as a multitasker. An energizer bunny. (Sadly, no one under the age of 18 will get that). I once cooked dinner, while talking on the phone, nursing a baby, and making a store list in my head. I'm not exaggerating. I have always been capable of having multiple things going at once and last night, I had a meltdown because I couldn't focus on putting cheese on a pizza because the music was too loud. 

Since the dreaded words from the ultrasound "I'm so sorry", I have thought about nothing. I find myself staring into space and being completely weirded out that, while I'm conscious, I am delightfully only present physically. I have tried to engage myself in Bible study, planning for Christmas presents, deep conversations with friends, and long term planning with Lee and I come out empty. 

When I AM thinking about something, it's not what people would think. This morning, I found myself staring off contemplating a student's cute boots they had on.

Generally, one would assume, an empty mind should be a reprieve from my mind that is usually going 109 mph, but it's disconcerting. My bosses are wanting me to think about graduation, goal setting, lesson planning, and student control. I am thinking about the odd shape of a cinder block, lunch, and the color of floor tiles. 

My Bible study book (that I started prior to the miscarriage) asks me to think about idols, priorities, and bondage and I can't wrap my head around anything but hurt that stings so much that my brain takes a detour to couches or kitchen utensils. (I would love a gray couch)

I desperately want to move on, but I am reminded by the fact that my pants don't button, my hormones are apparent all over my face, I'm still avoided by friends who aren't sure what to say, so they continue to say nothing. I want to have the freedom to be sad, but feel the push to move on. I went back to work and went back to church. Am receiving emails and texts inviting me to social events and I die a little inside thinking of making small talk. I started showering again (I'm pretty sure my family was happy about that), doing my hair and makeup. I cook, I run, and I smile. I hug, I accept condolences, I sleep. 

But inside, nothing. 

I'm not sure how to handle it. I feel that everyone is looking at me to see if I'm on the edge of a breakdown. If I scratch my eye, do they think I'm on the brink of sobbing? I have found that there is a strange thing about the human spirit: we are considerably more aware of ourselves than other people are. Even though MY life is consumed in an abyss, I am keenly aware that I'm just another hurting person in the world. And my goodness, there are many. 

I am reminded of how quick I am to make a judgement of a person's reaction to me based on my interpretation. Maybe a person is less than friendly because they had a bad day. Or, maybe they miss an event I plan because it's all they can do to hold it together enough to cook dinner. Maybe they didn't stick around to talk, because their marriage is in trouble. Maybe a hurt from months ago is still consuming their hearts in a world that says once you're back in it, your pain shouldn't hurt anymore. 

We are inundated by a culture that believes that MY reaction to a problem should be YOUR reaction and anything less is uncomfortable or weird. 

As I have stated before, I have looked for the little bits of gratitude in a sea of hurt and disappointment, but find myself irritated at myself for the times I have concluded that someone must be upset at me because they didn't speak when I saw them. I decided that their indifference to me must mean there is a rift between us. I must have done something to upset them. 

If ANYTHING through this, I am learning about extending grace. To consider more than MY feelings in a world completely covered in more hurt than words can explain. Assume the best and pray for the person. Chances are, they're not at all upset, but distracted, overwhelmed, full of worry, or not sure where their necessities will be found. Maybe, instead of assuming someone's irritation with us, we should think about what their last thoughts are before they close their eyes. Maybe that is when we can fully understand and love each other. 

The pain of loss

When I was twelve years old, my parents pulled my brother and myself into the living room. They asked what we would think about them having a baby. Travis and I both died laughing. How absurd!! I was 12, Travis was 16 and my dad had already had his over-the-hill 40th birthday. After several moments of laughter, mom started crying. They weren't kidding. I started crying for fear of no longer being the baby of the family (judge me) and mom says she could see college funds slipping out of my brother's eyes. We soon adjusted and were overjoyed with having a baby. (And my parents adjusted to my grandfather calling them "Abraham and Sarah".) Unfortunately, 11 weeks into the pregnancy, an ultrasound revealed that the once-heard as seen heartbeat was no longer there. My first exposure to miscarriage.

Since that time, I unfortunately have had many friends and family experience the incredible pain of losing a child. Many of them a loss in first trimester, a few in the awful second and third trimester, and a few after delivering and loving the child. Loss. Pain. Unexplainable. 

When Lee and I decided to tell that we were pregnant so early (I seriously know just a few days after conception that I'm definitely pregnant.), we knew there was the risk of losing the baby. This week, an ultrasound revealed that the baby hadn't grown at all in 8 days and still had no heartbeat. The look on the face of the woman doing the ultrasound said it all and we prayed she would say nothing more. Then she uttered, "I'm so sorry". We said no words and prayed that the doctor would say that maybe we had a slow growing baby and everything would be fine. He didn't. He said that the report from the ultrasound said it was a miscarriage that hadn't happened yet and he believed it was imminent and that the baby had even gotten a tiny bit smaller. We shook hands, accepted condolences and he offered the statistics that 1 in 5 women miscarry. 

As we drove home in silence (except for to say that neither of us wanted Starbucks. A bad sign.) I began to think about the people in our lives that have had big losses: my mom's miscarriage, my grandmother's ectopic pregnancy/miscarriage/hysterectomy, my mother-in-law's 5 miscarriages, Lee's grandmother's loss of delivered twins, my childhood friend's loss of a baby 18 weeks in, and my friend's loss of her sweet Julia 16 years after delivery. I didn't feel more deeply mourned, but comforted that it seems as though, at least in my life, only 1 in 5 HASN'T miscarried. So many of the miscarriages went on to carry many healthy babies or go on to adoption. Either way, they went on. Melissa, who lost her sweet Julia 9 months ago, has demonstrated that looking for joy through pain is a daily task that eventually gets easier. 

Hebrews 12:1-2a says, "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses... Let us run the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of faith." The Lord has reminded me that many have come before me with the loss of a child and unfortunately, many will come after me. And that's another part of the "parent club". Not only sharing sleepless nights, diapers, tantrums, hilarious stories, and hugs, but the pain and loss of a child. 

The evening after we got home from the doctor, Colossians 3:15 echoed continually in my head, "Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body, you were called to peace. And be thankful." I had mentioned to Lee last week that I found the fact that "And be thankful." was its own sentence seemed to be Paul using a parent voice to emphasize when we don't feel peaceful, to remind us to be thankful. Be thankful for the lessons learned, the friends that have loved, the distractions of laughter along the way, for the endless joy found in a bag of Cheetos, and for the peace and reassurance that only The Lord can give us. Be thankful. And I am.