On racing

Last May 2012, I registered for my first race since 2004. Through a parent at Adara's preschool, I heard of the Valley Crest 1/2 Marathon and knew that I had to do it. The course was literally in our backyard. Voted "LA's Friendliest Race," the course traversed 13.1 miles of Santa Monica Mountain trails that I ran on every single day. I had ridden the course on my commute to/from UCLA back in 2008 pre-Adara. I was also quite possibly in the best running shape of my life thanks to pushing the girls in our double Chariot an average of 7 miles/day for their afternoon naps. It was too perfect. Training was going awesome, I was feeling great and excited to run a fast 1/2 marathon and place for women or at least in my age-group.

I had just finished a typical afternoon run when I started feeling ever-so-slight stretching in my lower abdomen. It was most likely from the ab workout I did the night prior, but hmm, maybe it was something else. To calm any doubts, I decided to take a pregnancy test. Lo and behold, my suspicions were confirmed as I saw two blue lines slowly appear. It would be a lie to say I was excited. Shock overcame me. A third child was not in the plans. We had done much to avoid it, for now at least. I was supposed to run a fast 1/2 marathon in just 2 weeks and now I was pregnant.. for the third time.

I called my midwife the next day, visited her office and felt my heart lurch with anticipation as I heard the most magical little heart beat. For the third time in as many years, I would be a mother. It was not in the plans, but I could do this. I was ready. However, I could not help but notice the irony of discovering I was pregnant just days before my first race in 8 years. With my midwife's approval, I ran the 1/2 marathon along with my friend, Tom, who happened to strain his hamstring during a track work session two days prior. We had a blast, chatting the entire time and running a comfortable pace so as not to risk this growing baby's development. Still, it was not exactly the race I had been hoping for as I couldn't even race it.

Fast forward to last Wednesday. I caught the racing bug again. After putting the kids to sleep at 6:30pm (they had all been up since 5am with no naps for the girls), I collapsed onto the couch for a dinner of leftover quinoa salad and began to browse through the internet for some local races. If I was going to race, it had to be something very easy logistically - Isaac was still nursing every couple hours and I still nurse him to sleep for naps, which he also takes every couple hours. Thought it's mostly a control issue, I hate to be away from him. That is probably the reason I take him on nearly every run with me, too. I love this little guy and like to spend every waking minute as close to him as possible. Also, he's my last little baby and I know it goes by too quickly. I am not willing to put my running hobby before his happiness or sleep/eating schedule. Then I saw that the Calabasas Classic was just 12 weeks away - the exact length of nearly every training plan. Instantly I clicked open a new tab and began exploring various training plans. An hour later, I had the next three months of running mapped out. As I wrote previously, being a mother before a runner requires a lot of flexibility so I won't stress about "the plan." At the same time, I love agendas, schedules, to-do lists and the satisfaction of drawing that little check mark that signifies "completed."

Thus, September begins with my first training plan in many years. I am excited. The notion of dedicating myself to something other than the kids feels good. This is for me, though I may even race with 1 or 2 kids (the race allows strollers!). I may not run a PR, I may not even run a fast race, but the sheer idea of racing thrills me and after 9 years, I am ready.

“Men of Oregon, I invite you to become students of your events. Running, one might say, is basically an absurd past-time upon which to be exhausting ourselves. But if you can find meaning, in the kind of running you have to do to stay on this team, chances are you will be able to find meaning in another absurd past-time: life.”
- Bill Bowerman