Mind Games

This morning, I won a race. I am not going to brag, or be boastful, beating my chest and standing upon the highest step -- though I was asked to take my position on the podium this morning, beside two 16 year old twin sisters! To put it simply, I am proud. This is my passion, my love, my outlet. I work my butt off, I push myself -- and three kids! --  and so when I come out on top, or finish hard, or put in a good effort, I feel proud.

I am expressive about it now, because (as I wrote in a previous post a few months back), there were many times when I could not or did not feel proud of myself. I have won races before, many back in High School. Yet, somehow, I still felt inadequate. I rarely felt 100% proud of myself. So I will say it again. Today, I won a race and I am proud. I

f you win a race, or finish a race, or reach your goal or have a good morning without yelling at your kids or losing your temper, or whatever you have achieved that was wonderful -- please, just be proud. Recognize it, feel happy for yourself, and have a great day. We want our kids to feel proud of themselves, so why not model it, right?

Though I was the first female across the line today, I know that I was not the most physically strong woman out there. I have three kids, I am lucky to sleep 4-5 hours/night, I eat frozen burritos (I found an amazing brand of vegan ones at Whole Foods!) and whatever else can be devoured with most ease and least effort these days. I am surely not the strongest physically out there. I am convinced that all my running success is due to mental toughness. In my heart and in my mind, I know that I was the strongest woman out there today, mentally. When I toe the starting line, I know that my head is in the right spot. Running is all about mind games and is arguably more of a mental sport than a physical one. If your head is not in it, if you have doubts, if you simply can not step up to the line and believe that you are going to win, then guess what, you will never win (or achieve your goal, finishing time, etc.).

Today's course was one of the most challenging ones in which I have ever completed/competed. The first 2 miles climbed, hills so tough that the 16 year old twins in front of me started hiking. You are not going to win a race if you don't keep running, I thought to myself. I am not going to let someone beat me by walking. These are the thoughts that passed through my brain right before I politely asked, "Can I please pass?" One sister scooted to the right of the single track. The other feigned innocence. I asked once more and then passed quickly and carefully, never to see them again.

They were strong, they were physically rock solid, but their mental game couldn't hold. I am strong because I am a woman, I am a mother. I gave birth to three children, all without any drugs or interventions or pain-killers. I suffered through 32 hours of child labor, without as much as an ibuprofen, For 24 of those hours, I vomited all over myself and everything else in sight. At the end of those 32 excruciating hours, I was told to push with all the might of the entire universe to get this child out of my body and into my arms, where she would stay, forever. After you go through something like that, you don't lose to a walker. If someone is going to beat me, they are going to have to bleed to do it. That has always been one of my favorite quotes from Steve Prefontaine. Today no one bled, but I know that I suffered out there more than anyone else. And I was just lucky enough to come out on top.

A Simple Question

"Mama?"

"Yes, Adara."
"Why do you always want to run with us?

She asked me this question, such a simple seeming question this afternoon, mid-run. I have probably written about why I run with my kids a hundred times. My first EVER blog entry was titled, "I run to be a better mother," for goodness sake. Then why did her question stump me this afternoon?

Perhaps it was because I was running on fumes, quite literally, after a mere 4 hours of sleep last night. Perhaps it was because I was mid-hill, nearly choking for breath and simply trying to make it up, alive. Or perhaps it was because that question tugs at every fiber of my being.

"Why do you always want to run with us?"

Such a simple question posed by a 4-and-a-half-year-old little sprite. Such a simple question that sent my brain spinning, searching for an answer, the answer. How could I explain it all in one sentence. She is four. She does not yet possess the patience nor the desire to listen to a 3-Act Play, a lecture of sorts, a highly emotional mother of three young ones celebrating her fourth ever Mother's Day. She does not want nor need to hear the love story, the passion, the obsession that has unfolded between this 28-year old Mama and her fire red triple jogging stroller. She does not need care about the glorious details. She is too young to comprehend that running makes me a better mother, transforms me and bestows upon me the most beautiful sense of peace and acceptance and love. She does not know how running refuels me and exhausts me. In the same breath. How running motivates me and inspires me to be the person I want to become. How it makes me strong, internally and externally. How it makes me feel proud, for pushing through the pain, the exhaustion. How my brain spikes with an adrenaline rush after every long or hard effort. How it is the closest feeling, the nearest level of intensity that I will ever experience again that even approaches the pain, oh the pain, and the bliss that was... her birth. How I long to feel that again.. and so that is why I run.

I can not tell her that. She is only 4. Then I realize, all she wants to know is that she is loved. For that is all any of us really want to know. And so I summit the mountain, I take a long deep breath and a sip of my too-quickly-grown-warm-water and I choose my words carefully.

I always want to run with you (and Cesia and Isaac, and Daddy when he can join us) because more than anything else in this entire world, I want to be with you. And next to wanting to be with you, I want to be running. And so, Adara, if I can be out running with my favorite people in this entire world, that is all I want to be doing.

"Running with you, Adara, it makes me happy."
"Mama?"
"Yes, Adara."
"It makes me happy, too."

That made for a very happy mother and a very happy mother's day.

This, too, made for a happy Mama.
Happy Mother's Day, to me.

Cesia's Mother's Day gift, with message on the back,
"I love my mommy because she gives me kisses."
Things like this, they make me cry.

My three superheroes.

Post-sprinkler fun. Obsessed with these towels Grandma sent.

Sunny, hot, memorable Mother's Day run.

Saturday alone time with the girls. At the Mall. On the carousel.
Carousel's are magical. Pure Joy.

Little Boy gets a break from elimination diets
for his first (baby-sized) chocolate ice cream cone. : )

Chocolate ice cream is pure joy, too.

Tears streamed steadily as I watched my
eldest serve me Mother's Day Tea at
preschool last week.

I am a Mother

It is past 1am. I find myself in front of the computer screen, reading and writing. I am crying.

Holding Adara for the first time. August 3, 2009.

I am a Mother
by Caitlin Jacobsen

I am crying
because
I am sad,
I am happy,
I am scared,
because I did too much,
or not enough.

I am crying
because
I let him cry too long,
when he needed me.
I wasn't there,
I didn't come fast enough.

I am crying
because
he vomited.
Again.

I am crying
because
in my stomach
I hold fear.
I am afraid
that he is sick,
that something is wrong.
That test results will show
there's something more.

I am crying
because
I worry.
I worry that I am crying.
I was not a worrier
before I had kids.

I am crying
because
I love them
these three beings
with every ounce
of being
that is within me.

I am crying
because
I am tired,
oh so tired.
I haven't slept
through the night
in weeks,
or months,
or many many years.

I am crying
because
I want to be more,
I want to be their everything,
Yet in my heart
I know
I already am.

I am crying
because
he is asleep.
After 2 hours,
he is finally asleep,
and I miss him
I miss the weight of his body
in my arms
and I want to hold him
again.
But he needs sleep
and I need sleep.

I am crying
because
I am lucky.
I am happy.
I am blessed
to be a mother.
On best days
and worst days.
This
is what I wanted,
what I have always wanted.

I am crying
because
I am a mother.

Happy Mother's Day to my mother, for letting me cry, for teaching me it's okay to cry.
Happy Mother's Day to my friends and mothers who have taught me, held me, inspired me, laughed with me, cried with me and loved me.

Naptime Speedwork

In an effort to fit it all in smoothly yesterday, I ran my weekly speed work session with the single Bob and Isaac. We dropped the girls off at school, kissed, hugged, dashed back home and loaded into the stroller with a sippy full of (almond) milk and some dried apples for the boy to munch. I was hoping to get the workout in by 10am and still make it home for his morning nap (2 of 4 hours I get all week to myself to do things like pay bills, take a shower alone, eat a hot meal before it grows cold, and other such parenthood luxuries). Less than 10 minutes in and the boy was passed out. I reclined his seat -- a very real luxury of the Bob stroller -- and punched "start" on my chile pepper red running watch.

Three mile repeats at 1/2 marathon pace. 7:10/mile. Not too bad, no intense pain, no all out sprinting, no peeing in the pants (yes, this is a real concern for postpartum mothers). My current training plan on tap is for the Valley Crest Trail Half Marathon which nearly runs through our backyard. The course traverses 13.1 miles of the Santa Monica Mountains and happens to cover the same trail route I run on nearly every day of the week. The race is on June 8th, just two days after I turn 29 and will be my birthday present to myself. I can't wait. The training overlaps perfectly with Chicago marathon training and will gradually prepare my body for the increasingly longer runs and higher mileage of full 26.2 mile rigor.

I decided to run the mile repeats up on the trail yesterday. I had to forgo exact mileage and simply run for time and feel, but that is what trail running and racing is really all about anyway. 7:10 miles on my favorite muddy trails with my favorite little running buddy made for the best possible Monday morning. Still feeling quite good and aware that my partner was snoozing away (and would wake the second I stopped running), I continued straight on another 4 miles to reach the Top of Reseda and back. Top of Reseda is a popular running/mountain biking/hiking hub and the start/finish line of the Valley Crest 1/2 Marathon. The view up there is incredible. Breathtaking.

The beauty surrounding us never ceases to amaze me. When we are willing to push ourselves and reach the top, we are never disappointed.

Isaac hiking to the top on Tuesday morning.

Tuesday in Pictures

Today was a home day. It was one of those slow paced recovery mode days that we all needed so desperately. Adara and Isaac both had three rounds of vaccinations at yesterday's well-child check up and boy were they hurting today. Poor babies were both up whining and writhing in pain several times last night, in very untypical fashion for these tough kids. When Adara finally rolled out of bed after 8:00am and announced that she was really tired and wanted to stay home today, we scratched out all mental to-do adventure lists (which included exciting possibilities of visiting the LA Zoo's brand new Rainforest Exhibit, a Santa Monica beach trip, strawberry picking at the farm or downtown LA water fountain fun). Lists destroyed, below is a snapshot of our Tuesday.

1. Coffee and bagels on the couch with Cesia. Little brother was up and crying before 5am, refused the finest rocking motions and best attempts at cuddling him back to dreamland. After a 2-hr stint which included eating breakfast with his eyes closed (Seriously, the kid ate every blackberry and an entire bowl of oatmeal with his eyes shut), he was back in bed at 7am when child #2 came tip-toeing down the stairs. Cesia and I enjoyed a leisurely breakfast of pink bagels with cream cheese and coffee. Today was a coffee day, indeed.

My two favorite C's this morning: Cesia and Coffee.

Sharing pink bagels on the couch.

2. A late-morning trail run with a brief respite to enjoy the views. In ultra-recovery mode, I ran an easy 1.5 miles up to the climbing trees (or as easy as possible while still pushing the triple up to Mulholland) and let the kids free. They typically beg to get out and I typically bribe or distract them with games and snacks and other stroller running mama tricks to keep them happy while getting in my miles. Today I didn't feel the need to push. I stopped at the trees and unbuckled their seat belts. But something strange happened, they didn't jump out. They didn't even move. It was 10am and they were pooped. Clearly yesterday's shots left these active kiddos drained. I slowly peeled their bodies from the stroller and held hands as we leisurely walked up the single track to admire this blessed view and pick some yellow wildflowers that had bloomed so gorgeously since our last trip up the road.

A boy and his flower.

My favorite from today.

So blessed with this view.

My little wildflower.

About as far as their tired bodies could hike this morning. And that's okay.

3. Afternoon baths. We never do this. I usually keep a strict bedtime routine of bath time, books, goodnight kisses and off to dream. Last night we skipped baths. It was a busy Monday and I didn't want to repeat a disastrous night like the one I wrote of in my previous post, so we skipped baths all together and hopped right into bed. This morning some feet were stinky (Adara refuses to wear socks, always has and the heat is kicking up), bodies were sticky and the kids were all dusty from a windy trail run with sand blowing at us in all directions, so we took baths. Long afternoon bubble baths with nothing up next on the agenda. How luxurious, and how nice to be clean so early in the day. : ) Mama even snuck in a 2-minute shower while the kids dried off!

Three in the tub. Where's Cesia?

4. Books and crayons in the yard mid-afternoon. Isaac was down for nap #2 by 2:00, so we retreated to the yard in PJ's with piles of books to be read. 

Adara reading to Cesia.

Story time.

Coloring break.

 5. With early mornings come early bedtimes. All three kids were snug in their beds by 6:30pm. A few water breaks for Cesia, one PJ change for Adara (she does sleep in the top bunk, heat rises and it is currently 87 degrees outside) and I have not heard a peep since 7:00. Alan is traveling and while I miss out on spousal time (and support!), I gain plenty of that coveted ME time. Tonight I got plenty of that as I spent the better part of three hours in the kitchen chopping, dicing, sautéing, simmering, roasting and creating mouth-watering veggie dishes with the contents of this week's organic produce box. Tomorrow, we shall eat.

Steamed lemony beet salad, White Miso Butter Turnips (hands-down the best turnip recipe I have ever tried - from Julie Morris' Superfoods), Quinoa veggie cakes-turned casserole with slivered chard and chopped cilantro. 

That was our day. A good day, a long day. Tonight I will fall asleep knowing that all three kids were made to feel loved, appreciated and held. It was just the type of day we needed: low on adventure and activity, high on love and togetherness. Goodnight!

Chicago Marathon

I have missed writing. In my fervent attempt to simplify life and maximize time with my three kids, I have had to cut back on writing. This doesn't mean it's easy. But what is easy? I love to write and feel an urge to reflect and share. I write with the hope that others can relate, sigh a breath of relief and realize that they are not in this alone and that, yes, life is hard but wonderful.

I was reminded in the past couple of weeks how lonely this job can be. Motherhood, though challenging beyond belief, can just be plain mind-numbing. I am a bit of a loner, always have been, but on those solitary days left alone with three children and a traveling over-worked husband, even I need someone with whom to talk. Someone other than a babbling baby or impatient, crabby, 3 year old. Again, thank you for all those who have listened or read my words. For all those who have been there for me, whether I know you or not.

April was work. And I'll be honest, it felt like work. Long days with clingy kids, overtired but energized babies who just needed more, followed by interrupted nights full of bad dreams and multiple wakings by multiple kids. Alan was out of commission as husband and father for much of April as he was finishing up a multi-million dollar government grant proposal. I love that he is a hard-worker, that is what attracted me to him in the first place. I can not forget that. I am not resentful and I am not mad, but I am just.. tired. The less he is around, the more the kids cling to me, the more they need me. And of course, the more I need me. So in April, we stumbled through, in fact I ran higher mileage than usual. I ran to get through the long tedious days with demanding kids. At least if I'm running, I know I'm still alive. I'm still awake and spending quality time with my kids singing songs (when not choking for air on the uphills) and teaching them to read (street signs!) and do math (If we already did 4 repeats and need to do 8, how many do we have left?) while looking for moments of calm in this busy life.

And so mid-April, mid-craziness, I registered for the 2014 Bank of America Chicago Marathon. On Sunday, October 12th, I will run my very first marathon. I am running because I need to. My big sister and I entered the lottery this year and figured we would play our odds and decide from there. We both got in! We chatted on the phone that Monday evening and said we'd give it a few days to decide. I was torn. The trail runner in me has been yearning to run Catalina this November. The family-minded part of me knew that Chicago made sense. For it was the city I was born and raised in, where my parents and entire extended family still resided, it it a flat, fast course and one in which I could possibly qualify for Boston. The nervous and cautious part of me wondered whether I could do it. Can my body really handle this? Am I ready? Can I run a fast time - time I will be happy with after months of dedicated training?? Many doubts and thoughts filled my mind that afternoon.

Then the clock struck 6(pm). The kids were crabby. No, crabby is putting it lightly, they were out of their minds. We had spent the day at the beach, Cesia missed her nap, Isaac skipped his afternoon rest, Adara had been in the sun for way too many hours and I was cooked. Daddy was en route to Virginia and I just had to get through the next hour and all three would be peacefully asleep. It didn't happen.

By 6:01, all three decided to throw the performances (read: tantrums) of their lives. Isaac arched his back and fought bath time with all his might, screaming and climbing out of the tub like a lab rat scrambling from a pool of water. His sandy, sunscreen soaked body desperately needed a cleaning and so I fought back. Cesia peed on the ground (for the third time that day, which I have come to realize she does every time her daddy goes away). Like a needy puppy, she demands that extra attention by peeing on the ground. Now Isaac is out of the tub and clean, lying naked on the carpet screaming while I try to wipe up a puddle of pee before he goes splashing around in it and needs a second bath. I wipe the floor with the nearest towel in sight, which happens to be Adara's Dora towel which she suddenly needs and now in turn, she starts screaming. I toss Cesia in the tub, wipe her up even quicker than I did the dirty floor and pull her still crying body from the tub and wrap her up on my bed. Within seconds she is sprinting down the hall, wet and slipping, shouting muddled words as she searches for princess PJ's that are surely buried deep in the dirty laundry basket. Of course they are in the dirty laundry basket, seeing as our washing machine has now been broken for two weeks and our new one has yet to arrive. Miraculously, she decides on a pair, gets herself dressed and is quiet. She runs in the bathroom to see Adara still in the tub. Adara fills a toy dish with water and splashes it purposefully and very directly onto Cesia. Now Cesia's carefully-chosen PJ's are soaked and she has just been pushed irreconcilably over the edge. There is no coming back from this final meltdown, I know. I shout something at Adara, send Cesia to find new PJ's and grab Isaac off the ground to get dressed and in bed. All three kids are back at it and at a new level I had not yet seen. They are feeding off each other and the clock hasn't even reached 6:30. I stomp into Isaac's room,  now joining the tantrums, grab the curtains to pull shut and see my elderly 80-something year old neighbor lying on the ground outside her front door. That is when I lost it all.

Broken down, exhausted and lost, I call up the most amazing and selfless couple I know. Hysterical, I try to get out the words but they don't need to hear them. Within minutes they are at my front door, picking up my hurt and confused neighbor, calming me and just taking care of everything.

An hour later, Adara, Cesia and Isaac are finally done screaming and torturing me in slave-like fashion. All three are peacefully asleep. I click on the monitor to see my angelic son cuddled up snug with his powder blue blankie. You're innocent when you dream. I still haven't showered, my body is covered in sand and sunscreen, red in places where my hands couldn't reach and physically exhausted from the last 24 hours (or 4-and-a-half years!) of motherhood.

What do I do? I sit down on the couch and register for the 2014 Chicago Marathon. Why? Because more than any other time in my life, I need this. I will run the marathon for me. I will train for myself and with my kids and will find joy through every workout and every long run, because that is what running is for me: joy.

Earth Day Hike. 2014.

So much joy found here.

Little boy learning to hike.

Long run with three sleeping kids.

Running Mama's view.

Simplifying this life

Life has been crazy lately. Hectic, rushed, jam-packed full of activities and jobs and work and volunteering and broken appliances and messes and the list goes on. Through it all I have managed to run, because I need to run. I may not write, I may not clean the house, I may not make it to the grocery store, and I may run out of toilet paper again this afternoon because we still have not made it to the store. But I run.

Yesterday afternoon I loaded all three kids into the triple stroller, braved the 90+ degree heatwave we are sweating through in Sunny Southern California (though I'm not complaining - it really is quite beautiful and I'd take it over snow nearly any day) and had yet another transformative mind-changing adventure with the kid. In those 90 minutes and between games of I-Spy and Guess that Fruit, I came to the clear realization that I need to simplify. Sometimes amidst all the stress, challenges and frustrations, the answer really is as simple as that: simplify.

Like every other good mother, I want to the best for my children. I strive to give them the most memorable amazing experiences and a childhood they will look back on with wonder and gratitude. A childhood they strive to mimic for their own children. My mother gave us that. She raised us through heartache and suffering, with my father losing his sight just months before she would give birth to her first child (my older sister) and no money to put food on the table. My parents had nothing, yet they had everything. We were never made to feel less, we were hugged and loved and taken on adventures: to the grocery store, to the local catholic church, to the neighborhood ghetto playground where we had our first home. My dad was held up, he was robbed, a blind man taking public transportation through dangerous Chicago streets. My mom was harassed, on a daily basis I am sure, while out alone on these same dirty streets with her 19 month old and newborn daughter (myself). My parents had stresses. They had rough months and long years. Growing up in a childhood like that, I am blessed to possess the one character trait I long to pass on to my own three children: Tenacity.

We work hard. We don't give up when the going gets tough, because the going is always going to be tough. There is always going to be something that stresses you out, something that pushes your buttons  or overwhelms you, but what good do we get in stopping? What good comes out of giving up the fight? Many thought my mom was crazy for staying with a newlywed blind husband. "You have only been married less than a year, you can start a whole new life for yourself." She never chose the easy way out. She was tenacious. And my father, who was forced to re-learn nearly everything, to read, to write, to walk and get around with a cane, do you think he took the easy way out? He used that opportunity to go back to school and not just anywhere, but to the University of Chicago, and earn a degree in Infant Mental Health and become a licensed psychotherapist.

And so people call me crazy when they see me pushing 150+ lbs up steep mountain trails and narrow neighborhood streets. I don't see that as crazy. I see that as another word: Tenacious. If I had let the week's stresses get to me and gave in, lying on the couch eating chocolates with three whiny kids at my feet, I would be crazy. More than that, I would have missed out on the clarity that was brought to me through yesterday's run. In those 90 minutes of thought, I decided to send Adara to our local public school, because it is good enough and she will thrive being part of her own community and it will simplify our lives. I decided to stay on the preschool board for next year but only with the promise to myself and my good friend/Chair that we will simplify. We will choose a few primary goals for the year and hold ourselves to them, rather than trying to tackle everything and being left breathless and worse, defeated. I decided to spend more time playing with my kids, taking pictures, because I love taking pictures and re-living the stories they contain. I will spend more time at the ocean because the ocean calms me and is good for the soul. I will choose my words more carefully and practice mindful awareness because our thoughts are our actions, and our words are the way in which we are perceived in this world, like it or not. I will choose my words more carefully and speak with kindness. I will read a book when I feel like it and skip the dishes at night. I will enjoy this life because man it flies right by. I will hug my children more and remind them they are loved and more important than getting "just this one email sent out." And finally I will be easier on myself and accept that life can be simple and still wonderful and that I am no less of a mom for sending my kid to the local public school. Thanks Mom and Dad, for keeping life simple and teaching me the important stuff. My favorite childhood memories were those spent at the dirty little park and the neighborhood grocery store with my mom. We were together and loved and that was all that mattered.. and still does.

Post-dinner bike rides and walking practice.

Sharing ice cream in the backyard.

Adara's beautiful "LOVE" poster she made me on Tuesday.

Backyard pool time.

Sunset run with the girls.