Mama-Do List

I am back from a writing hiatus -- for today at least. As much as I love writing, whether in a journal or online blog, it is one of those things that often has to give when something's gotta give. On any given day I have ten blog posts swirling around in my head, entire paragraphs written that never make it to the screen. When days are busy and I can't find the time to fit it all in, I am forced to perform a quick mental check of the necessities, those important items that can not wait, that must to be attended to, and those are the only items that get checked off the ever growing "Mama-do" list.

Lately, the "Mama-do" list has included:

1. Morning cooking classes with the girls, from the comfort of our kitchen, in PJ's covered with hand-sewn aprons by Grandma. In one swoop and one messy hour the four of us get in some quality bonding, math lessons (3 teaspoons + 2 teaspoons = how many teaspoons?), messages on eating whole healthy foods and of course a delicious meal to enjoy! Isaac has decided to join in on the fun, and boy, can that 14 month old mix!

Three peas in the kitchen.

One crowded kitchen.

2. Gardening. I awoke last Wednesday morning with a deep, primal urge to start a garden. "Right now, I feel like I need to start gardening," I told Alan beside me in bed, before the clock even reached 6am. "Like, right now?" he responded, eyes only half-open. By noon on Wednesday we had hit the local nursery and filled our yard with bags of soil, rakes, shovels, and an oversized green bin full of weeds. For the next five days our hands were covered with dirt, feet with mud and faces with smiles as the four of us (five, when Alan was home over the weekend) became closer friends with Mother Earth and created our first little herb and vegetable garden together.
Side note: All three kids came down with a nasty virus called Hand, Foot, Mouth last week which meant no school and no playmates for a full week. What better way to pass the days in our beautiful Spring weather than in the garden?

Lunch break in our spruced-up yard. We have found ourselves eating nearly every
 lunch and dinner out here for the past week. 

3. Running and Racing. It's Spring! It's official says Adara, as her preschool calendar said so! And with Spring comes Racing Season. I have a long list of upcoming races, mostly trail, a few road and all for maximization of fun and happiness for this Mama. Next race: Great Race of Agoura 10K tomorrow morning! Coming off a big 1/2 Marathon PR just two weeks ago and feeling rested and ready, my goal is to run sub-43 minutes tomorrow. That would be a 2 minute PR from the November Calabasas 10K, which I ran pushing Isaac after nearly a full month off running nursing a calcaneus stress reaction.

10K Training. Sleepy Sunday long run with the triple. The virus wiped
out both girls on this afternoon run.

4. Nursery School volunteering. Spring also means our annual Nursery School Ice Cream Social and Silent Auction. To many this means partying and eating ice cream, to the tireless volunteers engaged in the responsibilities of hosting such an event, it means long hours and endless days of acquiring donations, inputting donations, prep work and more prep work and… I try to do as much of this at night as possible, or when Isaac is asleep and the girls are in the yard. I squeeze in any amount of work I can when the girls are occupied and ignoring me. I am very aware that my position on the preschool advisory committee is a volunteer one and being present with my children comes first, especially when Cesia reminds me, "Mama, you are supposed to be our Mama, not a worker. Please don't do so much work today." They need me and if that means our school fundraiser isn't quite as successful as it was last year, then so be it. (Sorry fellow NSAC-ers. : ))

5. Teaching. With the kids on sick leave from school last week I popped into full-mode homeschooling Mama, and loved every minute of it. We all needed some excitement to pass the days together without any social interactions (and germ-spreading). When we were not in the garden we were making homemade green play dough for St. Patrick's Day. I feel a little less worried when Isaac eats fist after fist of this natural flour/salt combination. You could also find us pouring over books. Isaac has recently become book-obsessed and often retreats to his corner bedroom in silence only to be discovered thumbing through a huge pile of books. Big sister Adara, who will turn 5 in August and begin Kindergarten in the Fall, made a huge breakthrough this past week when she read her first words. She has been a total book worm since she was 6 months old, and the past several months has been working hard sounding out syllables and spelling and writing sentences on her own. Her list of reading words (I mean really reading, not just picture/word matched flash cards) is growing by the day as she randomly asks me, "Mama, why does that sign say "No Parking?" as we run past in the triple stroller. Or reads full sentences in beginner reading books. This whole reading business is quite exciting!

Taking a break from "work" to make some homemade Green Mint
playdough on St. Patrick's Day!

Adara creating her playdough family.

Our littlest bookworm.

Loves the peek-a-boo books.

Look who wrote her name yesterday for the very first time!
(Sorry for the upside down photo, my phone won't flip it. )

Celebrating a day of luck and love, and all being
forced to wear green by Adara Kelly this St. Patrick's Day!

Happy Friday to you all! Are you enjoying Spring weather wherever you may be? How are you celebrating this new season? What remains at the top of your "to-do" list?

The Streets of LA

Yesterday morning I ran the streets of LA, along with 21,829 fellow runners. More than 75,000 spectators (including my wonderful husband/chauffeur and three children) lined the streets of LA from Dodger Stadium to Ocean Ave in Santa Monica to cheer on thousands of runners who completed the hottest LA Marathon in over a decade. Mercury was rising past 80 degrees at the finish. At the ocean.

It was my first "marathon experience." A huge part of me wishes I could say that I was a "Marathon Finisher." Soon. That will come. For now, I feel honored that I was a part of it at all. I feel proud, elated, inspired, exhausted and hungry for more.

My older sister, Denise, and I competed as a Charity Relay team. We ran for Girls on the Run and raised over $600 in the process (thanks to many of you readers!!). She ran the first 13 miles, I waited in my relay corral until I saw her florescent green shirt coming quick in the distance. As she neared, I felt overcome with emotions. I was so excited to run my first race with her in years and so proud and excited when she approached FAST and told me we were on 8:10 pace! We hugged, I tossed my gear bag into her hands and hit the streets running. We finished 11th overall out of 244 relay teams, with a total time of 3:22. Not bad. I love you, Den!

I was half expecting to hate the LA Marathon. Having lived in LA for 10+ years now, I still do not see myself as being an "LA" person. Sometimes I don't think I relate to LA at all. I don't fit in here. Yesterday proved me wrong. I discovered that we all fit in. There is space for us all. We are different, yet the same. More than anything, the experience of running with over 21,000 other runners in LA made me realize that we are not "LA." We are the world. We were representatives from around the world coming together, working together and sharing our greatest passion. I cheered on my fellow runners at every opportunity. And those 75,000 spectators. You were incredible. You carried us through every mile, every step of the way.

Until you have run in a major marathon, I don't think you can understand the power of the crowds. I have been a spectator at least 7 times for either Chicago or LA marathons. I have cheered, rang bells, jumped for joy, shouted inspiring messages to loved ones, friends and strangers. But I never understood  the impact of such behavior. It is incredible. I now understand why people mark up their bodies with Sharpie's, writing their name down their arms or across their bodies. Next time, I will do that, too.

The biggest reason I didn't think I would enjoy the LA Marathon was the crowds. How annoying, I thought, to have people out there every step of the way, shouting at you. A total cacophony. That is what I expected. I could not have been more wrong. Yesterday, the shy, petite trail runner who loves miles and miles of solitude and silence was transformed. I slapped hands, I cheered with junior high cheerleaders in "Cheer Alley", I read every spectator's sign that I could, I laughed out load at the signs, I patted slowing runners on the back, reminded those near the finish "only 5 more minutes! just 5 more minutes!" I challenged the man next to me, "Come on, let's race! Let's finish this thing hard." And you know what, he accepted my challenge. Sprinting towards that line, I can't tell you who beat who. I honestly can't remember, nor do I care, because that is not what is was about. It was about pushing ourselves and each other, together. I raised my hands as I crossed the finish. I soaked up the experience. When in Rome, right?! I ran those 13.1 miles as fast as I could, and with as much joy and fun as I could. I can honestly say it was one of the most fun experiences of my life. Thank you LA!

That is not to say that I won't love every minute of my next 2 hour run in silence on my home trails. But I found another side of me. A side that is motivated, pushed and inspired by others, by fellow runners and spectators alike. Yesterday I participated in a city-wide parade where I/WE were the guests. We, the runners, were celebrated in the most beautiful of ways.

We kept the celebration going all afternoon as we scarfed down burritos, met friends old and new, returned home, played in the yard with three little kids, went for a neighborhood bike ride and refueled hungry bodies with a dinner out last night. I finally hit the pillow at 10pm and could hardly peal my eyes open when the girls jumped in my bed at 7:30am this morning. The time change on top of a hard effort yesterday made for one tired Mama. I can not even imagine how those 26.2 milers felt getting up this morning. But we seek challenges, we need them to keep us alive, and we keep on running. Thanks for all those you supported me, inspired me and made me realize how beautiful LA can truly be.

What's next? We will see.. but those 75,000 fans have definitely made me reconsider running Chicago this October. Catalina may have to wait.

Disconnected

It is Saturday night in Downtown LA. A feathery 50-some year old Japanese waitress speaks softly, heavy-accented, explaining the origin and type of sushi she has just placed ever so gently in front of us. We nod and smile politely, used to this routine by now. This is our 8th dish and we have no idea what she is saying, but we know the sushi is out of this world, each piece surpassing the previous with its flavor, intensity and melt-in-your-mouth buttery texture. 

Across from me I watch a young couple, seemingly in a comfortable relationship, possibly dating for a few months now. Both sit with iPhones in hand, texting away, laughing at pictures, checking out Google+ and Facebook and Twitter and Pinterest and just completely connected but disconnected. Beside them sit a 40-something married couple, also completely in tune with their own iPhones and barely talking a minute through the two hour dinner. The double dinner date behind me chat away about their dogs, sharing pictures the entire time via iPhones. At least they were sharing, I suppose, even if it was their phones.

We ate at Sushi Zo. Five star-rated, pricey but worth every penny Downtown LA sushi newcomer that is wowing all the critics. Our dinner was incredible. The ambience was clean and fresh, waitstaff attentive and aware. The only disappointment was the behavior of every single patron that sat through their meal (except my husband, of course, who does own an Android smartphone but hardly knows how to text, isn't connected on Facebook, Twitter or any other social media site except LinkedIn for professional networking reasons). Every person spent the delicious evening twiddling fingers away on their phones, breaking only to quickly drop a piece of sushi in their mouths.

Maybe this is you. I do not mean to offend you. Perhaps this is us. Whatever it is, I just do not understand it. I was the youngest person in that restaurant. It is not merely an age thing. The experience has left me with an urge to disconnect a little more. I rarely answer my phone as it is, but I am guilty of checking out Facebook a few times per day, never spending more than 5 total accumulated minutes per day on the site, but still wasting time that I do not have to waste. 

More than wasting time, there is no way to be connected to those real people in our lives, those actual conversations and events that are taking place around us, when we are thumbing on our phones all day. Those couples, newly dating and married for years, who sat around the restaurant connected the entire night yet so disconnected to real life, pained me. I felt sorrow for them on all they were missing out on. And so I vow to disconnect a little bit more and connect a lot more with those in my physical preference. Sometimes we just need to put the phone down. If that's too hard, lock it up, toss it in a drawer. I promise it will be there when you return. As for the people you are ignoring every second you spend time with your eyes locked to your device, they may not be there waiting quite as patiently, if at all.

LA (1/2) Marathon Training

The LA Marathon is just 12 days away. I am very excited and thankful for all those who have donated money towards Girls on the Run and have helped me become a SoleMate. Your generosity has amazed me! Official thank you cards are being written, but the thoughtfulness, especially from old childhood friends, has really made this running Mama feel special.

My body and brain have been split over the anticipation of the race. Half of me feels regret that I am not running the whole thing. The other half is reminding myself to be patient. I  mostly feel jealous. Yes, I am that person who is jealous of the laboring mother, having been through that intense pain and knowing the immense bliss that comes with each birth. I am jealous of the other runners who will be crossing the finish line with me two Sundays from now, having completed 26.2 miles. Jealous of those who will be completing their 1st marathon, and even more jealous of those who will be completing their 10th or 20th or more. My body has been yearning to be a marathon runner for years. Part of me feels like the past 14 years (if not 28) of my life have led me to this. Alas, I must be patient. My time will come.

On Sunday March 9th I will slap hands with my sister, congratulate her and then stride off to finish the final 13.1 miles of the LA Marathon course. It is not an official half-marathon but rather a Charity relay program supported by the official LA Marathon. We are thrilled to participate. I registered for this race as a test. In the Fall I was diagnosed with a stress reaction -- at first I thought it was a fracture but after it healed completely within 4 weeks I am convinced it never reached fracture status (thank heavens) -- after ramping up my mileage to just over 35 miles. This setback was heartbreaking. Only an injured athlete can understand the frustration. Yes, it was only a few weeks but those few weeks were the hardest of the year for me.

Running is my only release, my selfish act in this life as a mother of three. Though I am not technically alone while running -- typically pushing 3 kids and only run solo an average of 1 day per month -- it is my alone time. Without running, I have no way to burn off steam and just spend my days teeming with frustration, feeling as if I'm trapped in this body and this life caring for others all day without an ounce of pleasure for myself. I need self-preservation. We all do. When I run, I love my life. I love caring for my kids, I give endlessly and feel great joy in that ability, I clean bottoms, wipe floors, remind of manners, break up fights, wash away cuts, kiss away bruises and keep the house running. One hour of running per day is all I need to get through the days with joy and peace. And so I signed up for this 1/2 Marathon to test my body. I wanted to see if I could complete an intense training plan in preparation for a PR (my goal time is sub 1:40 or 7:20/mi pace) and stay healthy.

Have I succeeded? Yes, I have. I have made it out alive and feel ready and excited for race day. More than that, I feel ready to sign up for a full. Some have cautioned, "Wait until after the actual 1/2 marathon and see if you still feel the compulsion to run a full!" Yes, that may be true and yes, I will wait before I write that check and new training plan. However, I do not foresee a dramatic change in mentality. In preparation for the LA 1/2, I have completed a 90-120 minute run once per week for nearly 2 months now. The first long run felt, well, long. After that, however, a shift took place and my long runs rarely feel long enough. Each one leaves me yearning for more, mentally more than physically, but still I feel ready to make the leap. I love being alone in my thoughts, out there on the trails pushing my boy (who has become my long run training partner and seemingly loves it - munches on snacks, woofs at every passing dog and naps at least half of every long run). Perhaps the thing I love most about long runs is the selfish fact that they give me 2 hours of time to myself. Two hours is a lot of time alone when you are a stay at home mother of three. Other than those two hours/week I don't get 1 minute alone. I don't get to go to the bathroom without holding little hands back from splashing in the toilet. Toys are thrown at me while showering, at least one kid is clung to my body at any given moment. And so the promise of 2 hours on the trail doing what I love most is always welcome. I am reminded that I don't have to run. I never have to run. I get to run. How incredibly lucky.

Best little training partner. : )

What marathon is your favorite? Last month I was leaning heavily towards Chicago. It is a lottery for the first time ever this year so there are no guarantees, but my family lives there, I was raised there, I began my running life there and it just seems to make sense. Other than the quite large fact that I hate running on roads, and I also grow bored running flats. And I never train on either. My heart is pulling for the Catalina Trail Marathon the second Sunday of November. It is small, secluded, beautiful and ranked the best trail marathon in the world year after year by Runner's World. Plus I have never been to Catalina, nor have the kids and it's only a short drive and ferry ride from our LA home. So, who's in for Catalina this November?! (Knock on wood my legs make it out alive in 12 days). : )

A Day of Love

**I have a bunch of great shots to illustrate this post, spent the past 45 minutes uploading and editing them but stupid PC won't cooperate and will not let me insert them without freezing indefinitely with each attempt. Alan took my mac to Europe and I want to get this holiday post out before the holiday is over. So, here's the picture-less post. I will insert the photos (there are some great ones, too, of Cesia reading to her class, Isaac growing cuter by the day and Adara being sweet Adara) this weekend and update.**


Happy Valentine's Day! Honestly, I have never been a big fan of Valentine's Day. I have never gone out on a date, been given roses (though Alan did give me a fresh floral bouquet one year while dating on February 13th with a note that read, "Happy Non-Valentine's Day!") or even celebrated with a dinner out on this over-hyped commercial holiday. Some of my best friends absolutely love the day and go all out with Valentine's dates, chocolates, wine, the whole package. Other dear ones scoff at the day and go out of their way to protest it. I have always lied somewhere in between. Until I had kids, that is.


Holidays with kids are just so much fun. I don't care if it is a Hallmark holiday, it's also an excuse to take out the cookie cutters, bake with the kids, spend hours upon hours crafting and making the perfect Valentines to pass out to their preschool friends. More that that, it is an opportunity for teaching life lessons. This morning we talked a lot about Valentine's Day and what it all means. I told the girls that it is simply one day out of the year that serves as a reminder that we are loved, that we love each other and that we need to make sure we say it and let each other know because we have so much for which to be thankful. An extra Thanksgiving Day, if you will!


Valentine's Day does not have to be about fancy dinner dates or a surprise bouquet of roses. To me, it is about going out of your way to make loved ones feel special, to tell them you love them, to celebrate each other and all the things you love.


Some highlights from our Day of Love...


1. Waking up this morning at 6am (because 6am is considered sleeping in) to Cesia climbing into my bed to snuggle with me and Isaac. I whispered to her, "Isaac is still sick and sleeping, so please be quiet sweetie." She looked over and ever so gently petted his head and whispered, "I love you, sweetie Isaac." He kept dreaming.


2. Decorating homemade heart shaped cookies this morning with the girls. Watching Cesia pile mountains of sugar sprinkles on top of these otherwise healthy-ish little treats. Watching Adara spend 5 minutes per cookie making sure every pink candy jimmy was positioned just right.


3. Peeking in during Cesia's 3-year old preschool class Valentine's Day Party. I walked in to find her sitting in the teacher's chair on the rug instructing her 12 classmates to, "Pick a seat to listen to my book. I am going to teach you about this Dora Valentine's Book and teach you how to read." She sat there with a captive audience "reading" the book for a good 10 minutes. Sometimes I don't know where this girl comes from! Her confidence and strength convince me I am doing something right.


4. Next walking into Adara's classroom and watching Isaac crawl straight over a few 4 year olds to get a spot next to his big sister. Then watching Adara lovingly wrap her arm around him.


5. Going on an hour long run with the triple this afternoon in 94 degree heat (yes, it's 94 in winter in Woodland Hills, CA!) while chatting with the girls and playing "guess that fruit" game - their new favorite.


6. Cleaning up the house for Alan's arrival back home in less than three hours. As Cesia would say, "I just can not wait for 3." It has been a very long week, with little sleep and lots of crying from a very sick little Isaac. But we ended it on a high note, celebrating our love for each other and this life. What could be better than that?


How did you celebrate on this day of love? Are you a Valentine's lover or critic?

Running and Breastfeeding

Looking back, I can see so clearly the look of defeat. August 2009, with Adara.

I have been wanting to write a post about running and breastfeeding for some time now because they are two topics which I feel very passionate about and because I believe you can be successful at both. When I say that I have wanted to write this for some time, note that I actually started this entry three months ago. It got saved as a draft and pushed aside, many times over. Here goes!

I used to believe, like many other mothers, that these two had to be mutually exclusive -- that you could not train hard and breastfeed. From personal experience, I saw my milk supply plummet and I stopped running. This was after Adara was born. In talking with other mama friends, we all shared similar experiences. Active runners, yogis and cyclists before children, we were now first time mothers and just trying our best to keep our identity and sanity. We ran. Our milk decreased. Our babies seemed fussier. We stopped running or kept our running to a minimum. As a full-time mother, my kids are my first priority. As a first-time mother back in 2009, my newborn was my life, the axis in which my world spun. I felt that my sole responsibility was to keep her alive. The best way I knew to do this was to keep her well-fed and well-rested. She was colicky, a terrible sleeper, so I gave up on the well-rested part. The very least I could do was keep her well-fed. When I attempted running more than 3 miles and my milk supply decreased, I instantly quit running. At the time, it just was not worth the "experiment" to me.

Adara as a newborn. August 2009.

How do mothers do both? How do serious runners breastfeed? I was stumped and unwilling to let my children be the guinea pigs. So when I had Adara, I ran very little. I kept my mileage at a perfect equilibrium -- just at the point where I could feel some stress-relief and fitness benefits but still not feel like I was sacrificing any milk production. My weekly mileage was probably about 15 miles/week -- relatively low. Definitely not mileage of a serious runner. It was the best solution I could find at the time.

I researched elite athletes and professionals runner mamas and tried to decipher their solution. Solution: Quit breastfeeding. Most of them either did not breastfeed at all or breastfed for just a couple months. That was their own personal choice and I get it. When it is your job to compete, to win races, that is a whole different issue. I am far from being a professional, never will be and I am far more interested in providing my children with the very best nutrition from the start than I am with my running success.

When Adara was little, I knew that I wanted to have a second baby relatively soon. I am sure that was part of my lack of motivation to run more, not to mention the fact that she absolutely hated the running stroller (and everything else, as I mentioned in previous colicky baby posts). By the time she hit 10 months, I was pregnant with Cesia. After Cesia's birth, I was more geared up and motivated to run this second time around. Post-partum I felt great, energized and excited to be done having kids. I had my two little girls and life was perfect. We were a family of four and that was all I ever wanted. I was sure that my childbearing was done for a while and so I steadily ramped up my mileage. I never saw an issue with milk production and Cesia was a good eater, a big baby from the start at 8 lbs, 8 oz. and continued to gain perfectly. I can not remember ever being concerned about milk production the second time around. Maybe I was just too busy to worry about it or maybe I had finally settled in to being a mother and parenting naturally without so much worry about what the experts had to say. Running felt good, my kid was healthy and so we ran.

October 2011. Days of the double.

Fast forward to baby #3. Third time around, Isaac is already 1 year old and my mileage is close to about 50 miles/week. I am happy. I am healthy and milk flows easily. After three rounds of nursing and great experimentation, I have been amazed by the body's ability to adjust and produce exactly the amount of milk the body needs, at that time. I started back running **SLOWLY** when Isaac was only 2 months old. After being diagnosed with a genetic pregnancy condition at 36.5 weeks called chollestasis and just days later being induced, Isaac was born 3 weeks early. Thankfully my little boy was quite big already at 37 weeks gestation and was born healthily at 6 lbs, 7 oz. Still, he was more than two pounds less than my second baby. He needed milk. My body knew that, he knew that. He was a hungry baby who has grown into a hungry 1 year old. Surviving solely off breastmilk for the first 6 months, it was again my job (among many others) to make sure my body was producing what my baby needed.

First run with Isaac. March 6, 2013.

Hard to believe he was ever that tiny. (tear)

At 2 months old and safe to sit/lie in the Chariot carrier baby sling insert, we began our running adventures. My milk decreased. I noticed the decrease and I got scared. This is exactly what happened with Adara, and back then I simply stopped running. This time around, I did not want to stop. There had to be another way. I analyzed my diet, my water intake, my nursing levels and even took some homeopathic supplementation via more milk plus drops. Then I got engorged, got mastitis for the 3rd time and was bedridden with three babies to care for. I believe a mother's body knows exactly how much milk to produce and supplements can just mess up that equilibrium. For some they may work, but from personal experience I can say that every single instance I drank mother's milk tea or ingested more milk plus drops, my body went into overdrive and produced way too much milk. After a week on antibiotics and a week off running, I was ready to try again. And again my milk decreased. I ran through it. I had faith in my body, in physiology. I had taken enough master's level courses in physiological science to know that the body is an incredible and well-tuned vessel. My neuroscience books told me that when my baby sucked, my brain would be triggered to release oxytocin, increase prolactin and produce breastmilk. I also summoned up the wisdom of ancient goddess mama's. Since the beginning of time, mothers have been breastfeeding. Since the beginning of time, these same mothers have been working their butts off, slaving away for hours in fields, walking and running many many miles simply to find nourishment for themselves and their children. These ancient mothers were not spending their days resting in bed, drinking and eating as much as they could simply to ensure proper milk production levels. And so I ran.

Isaac post-run Monday. Little boy fell asleep right during 800m repeats!

After about 1 week of lower milk production, my body adjusted. More milk began to flow. The body and the brain work under principles of supply and demand. If the baby sucks and demands more, the body will supply it. And so here Isaac is today just shy of 13 months and still demanding. We are in the process of slowly weaning him -- in preparation for a weekend get-away for Alan and me in just a few weeks -- and because he is demanding it less. For the past three months I have been consistently running between 35-50 miles/week without any milk production issues. My body and all women and mother's bodies are so finely tuned to adjust and protect life. Finally, I am confident that new mothers can run and breastfeed without any issues. Please, if you know any new mothers out there who are looking for evidence, looking for support, who are yearning to keep on running through new motherhood and trying to save that ounce of identity pre-kids, share this with them or send them my way. I desperately sought this information nearly five years ago and was left feeling disappointed. I don't want others to feel the same. Thanks and happy Wednesday!

Pre-preschool pizza prep this morning.

8am and dinner is done. After 2pm, I am tired and unmotivated to cook so we take advantage of the mornings and get dinner prepped and ready to pop in the oven when hungry bellies grumble.

Isaac keeping himself busy messing up the kitchen while the girls and I prep dinner.

Girls are Powerful

Wednesday afternoon, I picked up Cesia and Adara from nursery school. Adara was busy crafting at the art table, she glanced at me and then immediately back at her work. Cesia was riding in circles on a big red tricycle, just as she is every other afternoon at pick-up. She spotted me, hopped off mid-pedal cycle and sprinted over shouting, "I learned something new today at school! I learned something new today!" I smothered her in my arms, excitedly asking her what it was that she had learned. She is two-and-a-half (NOT 2, she will tell you!) and so half of her day is spent learning new things. This must be something special, something unique and incredibly exciting to her that she recognized it as "something new" and could not wait to share it with her mama. She looked up at me, with her porcelain skin and wide blue-eyes, her sharp cheek bones trying to conceal her excitement while she blurt out the words. "I learned that girls are POWERFUL!" If my girl learns nothing else in preschool over the next two years, I will be satisfied. Girls are powerful.

Definite super powers, here. Cesia's BFF.

Two powerful girls here.

Yesterday morning I ran 14 miles with Isaac in the Bob. I love that stroller. I love that kid. Six months ago, I would have thought such a feat was insurmountable. I never could have imagined running 14 miles with a stroller. Then I found Dorothy Beal and her Mile Posts blog where she chronicles her running adventures and training for marathons with her kids alongside. In one especially inspiring post, she wrote about running 20 miles with her daughter. I read this post about 3 months ago and thought it was unbelievable. Crazy. On at least a subconscious level, I am sure that post and others by her have been inspiring me to run greater distances with my kids. Knowing that someone else out there has done it has proven to me that it is possible. Sure, it's hard, but it's also fun, just like everything else in running. And so when little 1-year old Isaac woke up before 5am crying out in pain from his incoming first year molars and was inconsolable even in my arms, I packed him into the Bob, wrapped him in two layers of PJ's, his sleep sack and a J.J. Cole Bundle Me that an awesome friend recently gifted us and headed up to the trail. Less than 1 mile in and he was peacefully asleep. Isaac was made for stroller running. He either babbled to himself softly, soothing himself with "mama, mama," chants or slept the entire near-2-hr journey.

Post 14-miler, awake and ready for a fun-filled day at the LA Zoo and Kid's Night Out!

I returned home before the clock hit 9:00am feeling powerful. Because girls are powerful. I felt proud, of my boy for sitting peacefully on the ride for 2 hours, of myself for achieving something new, for accomplishing something that I had previously thought impossible, of my body for carrying me 14 miles and feeling strong the entire time. And so I snapped a quick picture of Isaac out front of our house and posted it on Facebook to share our joy. That is all I was doing. In sharing that I ran 14 miles with my baby on an early Saturday morning I wished to convey my happiness. I also wished to possibly inspire others to achieve something incredible, something they previously thought impossible, to challenge themselves and surprise themselves, much in the same way that Dorothy Beal's 20-mile stroller run has inspired me.

In response to my post I received great news of accomplishments from friends. An old friend wrote that she raced her first 5K with her 4 and 2.5 year old that morning. A new friend wrote that she ran 2.25 miles that morning and felt proud. Others wrote similar comments. And I love your comments, so thank you!

Later, however, I realized that many of the comments included comparisons. I know that is natural, to compare ourselves to others. Facebook, twitter and other social media sites make that especially accessible these days. We are constantly reading and viewing updates on how our friends spent their days. That can be great. It can be inspiring. I just hope that those comparisons don't leave us feeling diminished. Yes, I ran 14 miles yesterday and you ran 2.25 miles. Awesome! Friend, you are amazing for running 2.25! You got out of the house, escaped the amazing yet hectic life as a fellow mother of three and ran. And you who raced a 5K through mud and cold, wet terrain pushing many lbs of kid-weight in your double Bob, you inspire me. You are incredible and strong! You ran and you felt accomplished afterwards and that is all that matters. It doesn't matter how many miles I ran. There will always be someone else out there doing more than you, more than me.

My view during the run.
I never feel lonely or bored when covering ground with this favorite training partner.

In my younger days, this fact was always on my mind. I lived by comparing myself to others. My college cross country team alone possessed at least a dozen runners who were faster than me. It tore me up. I compared and compared and no matter how hard I tried, I could not be as good as them. I could not hit those miles as fast, or run as many miles/week as many of them. My body and my mind broke down. I know that my teammates never meant to make me feel diminished. In fact, every member of that team was as supportive and loving as they could be. But it did not matter because I lacked something so foundational and so important. I lacked the belief that my 2.5 year old reminded me of last week. Girls are powerful. You are all powerful. Keep going out there and doing what you are doing and never feel diminished. Feeling inferior will just tear up your mind and body. Feel inspired and inspire others, because Girls are powerful!

And watch the Superbowl. Cheer loudly, eat some good food and high five your friends and your kids, because sports are meant to be fun and to inspire us! Go, Pete Carrol! : )