I made it! 12 miles! I was scared that my body wouldn't make it all the way. Funny how different situations make you feel different about yourself.
When I was pregnant with the twins, I never doubted that I could carry them to term. I knew having 2 babies with 2 sacs would double the weight I was carrying, and would put strain on my body, but never thought I couldn't do it. There wasn't an option, I had to make it. And I came 6 days short of the target date the doctors and I were aiming for. My body was pushed to the limit, and I made it.
Is running a marathon harder on your body? I don't know, maybe. Still, I need to look at it the same way I did my pregnancy. There isn't a choice, I have to make it.
I started today a little hesitant. I didn't do the 11 miles last week and I didn't know how my body would respond. To top things off, I was up twice last night with the twins, so I was sleepy and tired. But as it usually goes, the excitement of being around other MMers (who are in the same boat as me) made my fears go away.
I started doing intervals of 1:1, I didn't want to push too hard at the beginning. I was feeling really good (even attempted some 2:1) until I got to Fox Bay. The way back from there was HARD. It was hot, I got very hot at one point and had to take the tank top off just to cool off. My toes began to cramp, I remember Mark said to wiggle them so I did. Then my hamstrings started to ache. As if that wasn't enough, as we approach the bridge (sorry, not familiar with the area or proper names ;) ), a cute dog came out. Nancy saw him first, we weren't sure how friendly he was at first. Then he started to follow us. If he hadn't had a tag, I would have taken him with me, he was so cute!
While on the bridge, my left knee popped a few times. No pain, I just felt the pop. It felt a bit weird afterwards, still no pain though. I was done by then, I was hot, tired, and my legs could not go any further. All I could think about was my car, and how far away it was LOL
But I finished. all 12 miles of it. WOW. It seems like nothing when I say it (knowing that there is long way to go until 26.2) but when I tell people, they are in awe at what I've done. and yes, they think I'm probably nuts.
More importantly, I'm in awe at how far I've come. I never jogged before, never attempted anything remotely close to this. The mere fact I can complete 12 miles, come home, play with the kids, and grocery shop is a miracle to me!
Funny sidenote: I went to Fleet Feet yesterday to get some gels. The twins and I had been shoe shopping at the mall (for them, not me) and I needed gels so off we went to FF. The young guy who helped me had this "omg, you have twins" look in his face. I wonder if he thought I was lost, or in the wrong store. He definitely seemed surprised to see me in there with 2 kids in a stroller. I think once I asked him for the gels, it convinced him I wasn't lost.
Saturday, June 9
Friday, June 8
Of socks and men
I figured out yesterday that I need new socks. I have a few new pairs I use during the week, and the thicker ones for the weekend runs. Couldn't find the ones I wanted , so I grabbed a pair I bought when we first started. I could tell they needed replacement. Weird how socks make such a big difference. So I'm planning on a trip to Fleet Feet this afternoon to get socks and gels for tomorrow.
About men. I'm convinced men have PMS. There is a time every month when my husband acts hormonal, for no reason at all. He denies it (he is a man after all!) but it is real. Has anyone else noticed this with their husbands?
One of the symptoms is his inability to do the simplest things. Like feeding the kids. Any other day, he can take care of them without any problem. But during PMS week, he can't even get a bottle of milk ready without complaining. Yesterday was one of those days. I grew more and more aggravated as the time passed. I fed the kids, bathe the twins, and by then, I was ready to put him out of the house.
Instead, I got my shoes on and off I went. 3.5 miles later, I came back (it was getting dark by then) and all my frustrations were gone. And his PMS was gone too. LOL
Thank God for running. Otherwise I would have stayed in the house, aggravated, and probably would have ended up picking a fight over something dumb. Those 3.5 miles help cleared my head and I felt good when I came back.
I have a confession to make. I'm so scared of doing 12 miles this week. I keep telling myself I am ready, I've come a long way, I've done 10 miles, 2 more will be icing on the cake. I know it's mental, my body feels fine once I get going. I need to get past this hurdle. I'll be there in the morning, and when I get thru with my 12 miles, I hope to have left my fear somewhere on the side of the road.
and some good news, my mom finally made it home!!! I talked to her last night when she arrived at the airport. Glad to have her home.
She brought the little bench I mentioned in yesterday's blog. My grandfather kept it and used it all these years. last time I saw him, he said I could bring it back when he was no longer here. Until then, he wanted me to loan it to him.
Now the bench is here, and suddenly I realize my grandfather is not coming back. It may just be wood, but he and I had a great bond and this piece of wood had a very special meaning for both of us.
I miss him.
About men. I'm convinced men have PMS. There is a time every month when my husband acts hormonal, for no reason at all. He denies it (he is a man after all!) but it is real. Has anyone else noticed this with their husbands?
One of the symptoms is his inability to do the simplest things. Like feeding the kids. Any other day, he can take care of them without any problem. But during PMS week, he can't even get a bottle of milk ready without complaining. Yesterday was one of those days. I grew more and more aggravated as the time passed. I fed the kids, bathe the twins, and by then, I was ready to put him out of the house.
Instead, I got my shoes on and off I went. 3.5 miles later, I came back (it was getting dark by then) and all my frustrations were gone. And his PMS was gone too. LOL
Thank God for running. Otherwise I would have stayed in the house, aggravated, and probably would have ended up picking a fight over something dumb. Those 3.5 miles help cleared my head and I felt good when I came back.
I have a confession to make. I'm so scared of doing 12 miles this week. I keep telling myself I am ready, I've come a long way, I've done 10 miles, 2 more will be icing on the cake. I know it's mental, my body feels fine once I get going. I need to get past this hurdle. I'll be there in the morning, and when I get thru with my 12 miles, I hope to have left my fear somewhere on the side of the road.
and some good news, my mom finally made it home!!! I talked to her last night when she arrived at the airport. Glad to have her home.
She brought the little bench I mentioned in yesterday's blog. My grandfather kept it and used it all these years. last time I saw him, he said I could bring it back when he was no longer here. Until then, he wanted me to loan it to him.
Now the bench is here, and suddenly I realize my grandfather is not coming back. It may just be wood, but he and I had a great bond and this piece of wood had a very special meaning for both of us.
I miss him.
Thursday, June 7
I am...
I am
I am from Banana Trees, from Panama Hats, and Polleras.
I am from the Casa Vieja where my mom grew up, with its dark rooms filled with memories, of the stories Abuelo would tell us while we sat on the porch, of the piles of golden rice he kept inside, and the sounds of the crickets in the lazy afternoons during the summer.
Of no electricity and hauling water from the natural spring that flows next to that old tree, of riding horses, and eating guavas right of the tree.
I am from the Chiriqui River, roaring behind Abuelo’s house, and the algarrobo tree in their front lawn where we spent breezy summer afternoons, pretending to fly when the wind would lift the branches off the ground and we held on to them.
I am from Nochebuena y Año Nuevo spent with family and friends, of Carnavales y processions during Semana Santa (Holy Week), from Amada and Amelia and Carmen.
I am from the family sticks together, and love and respect your older sisters as if they were your mothers; of loving our cousins as if they were our siblings and standing up for those who can’t do it for themselves.
From respecting your elders and always doing your best in everything you do. Of being proud of who you are and where you came from, and of understanding the value of an education.
I am from being raised Catholic, from praying the rosary with Abuela, and knowing prayers that have been passed down for several generations. I’m from having faith in a God who is merciful and kind, of believing in ghosts, praying to saints, and never eating meat on Good Friday.
I’m from attending catholic school most of my life, while learning about mediums, psychics and the power of the universe. I am from a mix of catholic doctrine and indigenous beliefs, of going to curanderos when something hurts, while lighting a candle for your health to be restored. I’m the kind of Catholic I want to be, secured in my faith and my beliefs and not afraid to say I don’t agree with man-made rules.
I'm from Panama, Spain, and the Guaymi Indians, of sancocho, arroz con pollos, platanos and tortillas.
From the woman who wasn’t afraid to raise her daughters alone with only a 6th grade education, from sneaking down to the creek for a swim and not telling Abuela, of running across the swinging bridge without our parents knowing.
Of starry nights sitting on the grass telling stories about ghosts and La Tulivieja, and staying up all night afraid something was lurking in the dark. Of dancing in the streets during Carnaval under the blazing sun and the cool water; of patriotic parades on Independence Day.
Of Jose’s courage, and Abuelo’s strength, of Abuela’s faith, Mom’s determination, and of Dad’s daydreaming.
I am from the little bench Tio Dany made for me when I was 3 and that Abuelo has kept for all these years; of the wooden stove where Abuela used to cook, and the sewing machine where she would fix Abuelo’s clothes while whistling a tune.
I’m from dancing with Abuela after dinner, under the light of a kerosene lamp with Abuelo watching as he smoked his pipe. I’m from the moments that were never captured in film but will remain in my heart forever.
Have any of you seen this writing exercise? A while back, my girlfriends and I completed it and emailed it each other (we are scattered all over the country). I thought about it today.
I am not alone in this journey. I have the strength of all the people in my family, those who came before me and are no longer here, the ones who still are, and those who are yet to come. I am the person I am today because of all these people. They believe in me, and that's what will help me get thru the training, and will push me across the finish line.
FYI, some of the things are in Spanish so I'll give you the translation
Polleras- national dress of Panama
Casa Vieja- my grandparents (Abuelo and Abuela) old house
Amada, Amelia, Carmen - grandmother, mom, great grandmother
Jose- my cousin who died of diabetes-related problems at age 33. he was like my brother.
Nochebuena- Christmas Eve
Ano Nuevo- New Year's
sancocho, arroz con pollo, platanos, tortillas - traditional Panamanian dishes
I am from Banana Trees, from Panama Hats, and Polleras.
I am from the Casa Vieja where my mom grew up, with its dark rooms filled with memories, of the stories Abuelo would tell us while we sat on the porch, of the piles of golden rice he kept inside, and the sounds of the crickets in the lazy afternoons during the summer.
Of no electricity and hauling water from the natural spring that flows next to that old tree, of riding horses, and eating guavas right of the tree.
I am from the Chiriqui River, roaring behind Abuelo’s house, and the algarrobo tree in their front lawn where we spent breezy summer afternoons, pretending to fly when the wind would lift the branches off the ground and we held on to them.
I am from Nochebuena y Año Nuevo spent with family and friends, of Carnavales y processions during Semana Santa (Holy Week), from Amada and Amelia and Carmen.
I am from the family sticks together, and love and respect your older sisters as if they were your mothers; of loving our cousins as if they were our siblings and standing up for those who can’t do it for themselves.
From respecting your elders and always doing your best in everything you do. Of being proud of who you are and where you came from, and of understanding the value of an education.
I am from being raised Catholic, from praying the rosary with Abuela, and knowing prayers that have been passed down for several generations. I’m from having faith in a God who is merciful and kind, of believing in ghosts, praying to saints, and never eating meat on Good Friday.
I’m from attending catholic school most of my life, while learning about mediums, psychics and the power of the universe. I am from a mix of catholic doctrine and indigenous beliefs, of going to curanderos when something hurts, while lighting a candle for your health to be restored. I’m the kind of Catholic I want to be, secured in my faith and my beliefs and not afraid to say I don’t agree with man-made rules.
I'm from Panama, Spain, and the Guaymi Indians, of sancocho, arroz con pollos, platanos and tortillas.
From the woman who wasn’t afraid to raise her daughters alone with only a 6th grade education, from sneaking down to the creek for a swim and not telling Abuela, of running across the swinging bridge without our parents knowing.
Of starry nights sitting on the grass telling stories about ghosts and La Tulivieja, and staying up all night afraid something was lurking in the dark. Of dancing in the streets during Carnaval under the blazing sun and the cool water; of patriotic parades on Independence Day.
Of Jose’s courage, and Abuelo’s strength, of Abuela’s faith, Mom’s determination, and of Dad’s daydreaming.
I am from the little bench Tio Dany made for me when I was 3 and that Abuelo has kept for all these years; of the wooden stove where Abuela used to cook, and the sewing machine where she would fix Abuelo’s clothes while whistling a tune.
I’m from dancing with Abuela after dinner, under the light of a kerosene lamp with Abuelo watching as he smoked his pipe. I’m from the moments that were never captured in film but will remain in my heart forever.
Have any of you seen this writing exercise? A while back, my girlfriends and I completed it and emailed it each other (we are scattered all over the country). I thought about it today.
I am not alone in this journey. I have the strength of all the people in my family, those who came before me and are no longer here, the ones who still are, and those who are yet to come. I am the person I am today because of all these people. They believe in me, and that's what will help me get thru the training, and will push me across the finish line.
FYI, some of the things are in Spanish so I'll give you the translation
Polleras- national dress of Panama
Casa Vieja- my grandparents (Abuelo and Abuela) old house
Amada, Amelia, Carmen - grandmother, mom, great grandmother
Jose- my cousin who died of diabetes-related problems at age 33. he was like my brother.
Nochebuena- Christmas Eve
Ano Nuevo- New Year's
sancocho, arroz con pollo, platanos, tortillas - traditional Panamanian dishes
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