It Doesn't Get Any Easier

"It doesn't get any easier, you just get faster." - Greg Lemond (cyclist)

I found myself reflecting on this sentiment while out running through local single track this morning. I was alone and I had time to think. I was running the exact same course that I ran on the eve of my 28th birthday. Come Friday, I will be 29. It was that solitary run one year ago that inspired me to write my first ever blog post. Really, it was that run one year ago that inspired me to change the way I was looking at the world and handling my life. I was frustrated, spending my days, long days, with pent up anger and frustration about not being able to run. It was my first year with three kids. Ages 3.5, 2 and 5 months and my stroller could only hold 2. I considered most days bad days. Each night was ended with a newborn asleep on my chest and a head full of doubt. How could I get through another day of this? Another year? I hate ending the day with regrets, feeling upset with myself, wishing I handled my two-year-old's tantrums better, wishing I had more patience during the nightly bed-time routine. Something had to change.

I had spent months debating with my husband and myself on whether or not to purchase a triple stroller. Crazy, right? Who pushes a triple stroller? Who runs with a triple stroller? My friend Jean convinced me that I could run with a triple stroller. "You may not run fast, but you can definitely run with it," she said so matter-of-factly. She believed in me. She made myself believe in me. "Maybe she's right," I remember thinking, "maybe I could actually run with a triple stroller."

Summer 2013 Triple Run.

One year later and I realize that triple stroller was the change. It made the change. And it whipped my body into shape faster than I ever could have imagined. I remember the pain I felt last year running that hilly loop, begging my quads to get me to the top of each climb, praying that my lungs don't bleed out at that moment. I also remember the bliss and the peacefulness that I felt. I remember realizing for the first time that "Running makes me a better mother."

Running does make me a better mother. It is my anti-depressant, my daily dose of feel good, life is good, I can do this. Without this triple stroller and without running, who knows what the past year would have brought. Would we have survived? Yes. Would it have been the best year of my life? Certainly not.

Last year I suffered on the trail. Today it was a peaceful, leg-opening jaunt. But still, it wasn't easy. It's never easy. And "It never gets any easier, you just get faster." So it is with child-rearing, it never gets any easier, you just get better (at handling the emotions, at keeping your cool, at being patient, at knowing what they need, at wiping bottoms, at wiping tears, at loving, at being you). What are you getting better at?

Nearly five years of being a mother and still learning and improving every day.

Exploring

By nature, I am a creature of habit. Most other distance runners are too, I believe. It's something in our blood. With endless miles of dirt roads and trails within running-minutes from our house, I have to admit that I haven't explored much beyond my own backyard.

Littlest one takes a hiking break mid-run.

Most of us are Type A, a bit neurotic, beastly when we miss a run. Angsty and spirited, we need to expel that extra energy, returning it back to the earth with each stride. We are also explorers, always on the lookout for that perfect trail, that majestic view, that endorphin high that greets us so extravagantly at the end.

By nature, I am also very much a loner. I love returning from a run without spotting a single sole. There is some magic in being out there alone, suffering and working while you know everyone else is resting in the comfort of their homes. As much as I seek solitude in life and in running, sometimes, company is just what I need. On Saturday morning I ran with two trail running, ultra-marathon, young-child raising, amazing parents and people. These two introduced me to new trails and a whole new perspective. After traversing 9 miles of gorgeous single-tracks in the Las Virgenes mountains, I was left hungry. Hungry for more exploration, more shared miles with training partners and kindred spirits. Hungry for more stories and inspiration from these runners whom have covered many more miles than my legs or lungs have ever experienced. Hungry for knowledge of endurance. Really, my mind can't quite grasp how one can run 50 or 100 miles. Hungry for more trails. My body and brain used to be blessed with that endorphin high after only 30 minutes of running. Soon it grew to 60, then 90 then multiple hours. Now I find myself wanting more and more, needing more and more. Two hours on the trails seem to defy the laws or relativity and I am not yet ready to be done. So it is with distance runners. That is how the mountains pull you in, I find myself thinking.

Alas, I have three little ones that need me and there comes that point during each solo run (non-stroller run), that I know I must return back home. I am lucky to have them, though, as they bless me with balance. Without these kids I might very well go over the edge. It's funny to think that my kids set my curfew. Truth be told, they do set my running curfew. I can't run for hours and hours or do double days frequently, though they do happen on especially stressful days when I simply need a second run with the kids to handle the demands of the kids.

"The Triple." Thank goodness my nearly-5-year-old still weighs a mere 31 lbs.

When out running with the stroller, I know that 60 minutes is about their max. So most days we do 60. Much more than that and things can get ugly. Pushing 150+ lbs (uphill) with screaming children is not so pleasant. Many of you have experienced this and for those whom have never run with a yelling child, take my word, you are not missing out. One Saturday or Sunday each week I am usually able to negotiate some alone time to sneak out early morning for two hours. Any more than that and my partner feels neglected. We get so little family time or alone spousal time as it is with long work hours and early bedtimes, so two hours is sufficient and still retains the delicate balance.

But really this is the life, these days spent exploring mountainous trails and running wild, skipping and gliding over rocky technical trails and wild descents. Dirt sock lines and sticky sunscreen arms. Playing in nature's playground. Running and eating and playing and repeat. Both with the triple and alone, these are the days I love.

Mulholland is a Woman

Happy Saturday! I woke up this morning, devoured a banana, dressed in my comfiest long distance running clothes and ran out the door. I ran to Mulholland, as usual. By 8:00am I was home from a 15 mile solo trail run, with a poem written in my head. I snuck in the door to see Alan feeding three happy kids at the breakfast table. I pleaded for an extra 5 minutes to sneak outside with the laptop and record the poem in my head, before it was lost. I'll share it here. Enjoy!

Mulholland is a Woman

She is ragged and edgy

Her skin stubble

Her flesh dry

Years are felt by her cracks

She is old.

And wise.

She can not offer majestic falls.

She has no caverns

Nor canyons.

She is dirty and magical.

She is no Yosemite

No Sequoia.

Travelers are few and far between.

Her beauty is deep.

She is mysterious,

Elusive.

It took me seven years

To see her.

To know her.

Now,

I have memorized her every curve

And crevice

Her ragged edges make her.

Her unforgiving decents

And rocky mountains

Formed her.

Now I trod upon her

With the greatest respect

She can bless me

Or destroy me.

She leaves me exhausted,

Panting

Yet begging for more.

With the seasons

Bring change

Rain highlights her green

Fires show her vibrant red.

To some

She is just dirt

To me

Mulholland is a woman.

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.