I Know Why You Run…

Max: I know why you run, Mom.

Me: Tell me why you think I run.

Max: Well, for your heart and stuff. And because you like to have coffee with the girls after.


Running…I’m addicted. It makes me more patient, clear-headed, empowered and healthy. And yes, I do love coffee with my running girls afterwards. (Don’t tell, sometimes we pretend that it takes a REALLY long time for coffee.)

Over the past two years, I have done the majority of my running—or training—early in the morning, long before anyone at my house is awake or even knows I’m gone. That’s good for someone with the occasional bout of Mommy Guilt.

But the girls and I have committed to the Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon (26.2 miles for goodness sake) on April 25, 2010. With that comes the addition of long runs…really long runs that can take hours even without coffee afterwards. It got me thinking about the balancing act of being a mom, daughter, friend, employee, volunteer, etc. and a runner. How can you fit it all in? If you’re like me—whether you have children or not—there are days you juggle it all very well and other days when it falls apart regardless of how well you plan. And those days when it falls apart, you may still need to get your miles in somehow.

I’ve asked Max a few times how he feels about my running and the time it takes. “Its fine, Mom,” he says. “Because I am proud of you and want you to win.” I love that. And it makes me want to keep running.

Running came into my life two years ago. Up until then, I walked the neighborhood and did yoga on occasion but there wasn’t really any sport or physical activity I was passionate about. I played a little tennis in high school and have attempted golf and I can honestly say I never in a million years imagined myself a runner. But I am. And I am passionate about it.

Max isn’t a competitive kid and sports really aren’t his thing right now. “I am good at other things,” he says. And he still gets physical activity in other ways, which is what is important. I’ve told Max how I really wasn’t into sports when I was younger and that it took me awhile to find my love of running. “Yes, you were older,” he tells me. Just like a kid to bring age into it.

Max knows why I run and is proud of me for it and I can’t help but think I am setting a good example, whether he ever finds his own love of running or not. What I really want is for him to find something—sports or otherwise—that he’s passionate about, even if it doesn’t come until he’s “older.”

"I Think Cats Go to Heaven, Don't You Mom?"

C.B.
1997- 2010

After purchasing our house, Rich and I made lots of trips to Home Depot for very important “house things.” On a Saturday night in July 1997, we decided to stop at City Bites for a sandwich before we made our weekly trek to Home Depot. Outside the door of City Bites sat a small grey cat who gave a loud meow as we walked up. I had to pet her, of course, and she rubbed on me and purred. We went inside and I asked the clerk if she knew anything about the cat outside the door. “Yes, we’ve been feeding her,” she said. “But some of the kids around here have been mean to her.” I have no tolerance for meanness to animals—AT ALL— and told Rich, “If she is still out there when we leave, she’s coming home with us.”

Of course, she was still sitting outside the restaurant when we left so I scooped her up and put her in the car. We cracked the windows as we went into Home Depot and when we came out we found her on the dashboard, lounging on her back in the sun. C.B. (City Bites) had found a home.

Of all the animals in our house, she was the lowest-maintenance. Quiet, loving and content to do what cats do all day…lay around. She had her quirks: she loved to drink water out of the sink and would come running when she heard you in the bathroom. C.B. also loved to have you aim the hair dryer at her and would stick her face right up to it. And she was partial to trying to sleep on your head or stalking a bowl of cereal like in the picture posted above. C.B. had an adventurous streak, too. Case in point: the Christmas Tree Incidents of 2002, 2003 and 2004.

Over the past week or so, I had the feeling she was sick. After a few days at the vet he felt like she was well enough to come home. She spent one last night with us and this morning, I knew she was dying. C.B. struggled to walk, but came in the bathroom for one last session with the blow dryer. I rubbed her head, told her how much I loved her and said goodbye. She went back to the vet and he told us there was nothing we could do but let her go.

Just as we found a home 13 years ago, C.B. found her home, too. What a blessing she has been to our family. I will miss you, sweet girl.

“I Can’t Believe What I’ve Been Missing!”

Something big occurred yesterday. Really big.

Max ate a cheeseburger.

OK, so that may not seem like a big deal to anyone but me. But trust me, it’s big. Huge.

First, let me say that food has never been a priority to Max. He’s always felt that eating interrupts the important things like Lego building or playing on the computer or doing other things critical to a kid.

Max was good about trying most foods and except for his first and only experience with peas, he was fairly agreeable. That changed at 2 when he began to turn his nose up at the things he always loved. After much discussion with the pediatrician (and my mother) it was explained to me that he wasn’t going to starve and that as long as he was eating fairly nutritious things—even over and over—he would be just fine but to keep trying to introduce new foods to him. And I did…dressing them up, making fun shapes, mixing pureed vegetables into mac & cheese (um, yes, he busted me fast on that one) and even making up songs/dances about just how good something would be. Not my finest moments but I tried everything.

For the past few years, his top/only items include fish sticks (Fisher Boy brand), chicken nuggets (Tyson), turkey and provolone sandwiches (Subway & City Bites), peanut butter (eaten with a spoon, not on bread) and sliced cheese (Kraft). Throw in Goldfish crackers, Cheerios, yogurt, milk, applesauce, mandarin oranges and milk and that is basically his list of approved foods. Oh, and anything chocolate.

“You just don’t know what you might be missing,” I would tell him. “I bet you would like this if you would just try—even one little bite.”

“But Mom, I don’t like that, I just know it.”

“How do you know unless you try, Max?”

“I just know, Mom, trust me.”

This has been a common conversation over the past few years. Almost daily.

But for whatever reason, last night at McDonald’s he decided to try a cheeseburger. And he loved it. Saying he had “NO IDEA what he had been missing all these years and it was SO GOOD.” Though next time, no pickles or mustard.

And while I am thrilled he’s added a new food to his approved list, in my mind the bigger accomplishment is that Max realized that unless you are open to new things and step out of what is comfortable or familiar, you never know what wonderful thing might be out there.

Not bad for me to remember either.