The races are over!

Last Saturday was my final race of this running season, the Brewers Mini-Marathon and 10k. Thank heavens I chose correctly for once and did the 10k, because there’s no way I could have done another half marathon.

It started and ended at Miller Park, and the course was surprisingly much harder than I anticipated. Since when does Milwaukee, and specifically the Miller Valley, have hills? There were spots where I honestly thought I was going to have to walk or just give up the race all together.

But I pushed on, just slowing down when I felt the urge to stop. I refused to look at either the mile marker signs or my watch, because I didn’t want to know how much misery I had left. Somewhere in the last mile I actually grabbed a cup at the water station to rinse out my mouth, and of course it was Gatorade, not water. Talk about a terrible surprise! I about choked on it, which only added to the full-body pain I was feeling by that time.

I have no idea why that run was so hard, either. 6.2 miles is not a long distance for me anymore, especially after the 12-mile training runs I had to do earlier this spring. I don’t know if it’s the additional 4 miles I walk daily taking Della to and from school now or what. But from somewhere in the very first mile until the end, every single step was a nightmare.

The only time my spirits lifted was when we ran around the warning track inside the stadium. There were 2 reasons for this – I saw friends cheering for me who I had no idea were going to be in there (in all fairness they were there cheering for someone else, but they rooted me on as i ran by. still felt good to hear my name, though), and I knew those ending flags were almost in sight.

After practically limping across the finish line, I finally checked my watch. And I about fainted.

From shock, not pain.

49:33! (my official time ended up being 49:32)

I absolutely could not believe it. I had kind of a tiered goal time going into this race – I definitely wanted to break 54:00, which would be roughly 9:00/mile pace; I really, really wanted to break 52:00; and in my deepest heart of hearts I would be ecstatic to break 50:00.

So to see 49-anything as my finishing time just blew me away. I killed it.

I was so happy! And I was done! And I needed to get some water immediately before I died! And I needed to keep walking so my distressed legs didn’t completely cramp up on me and render me a giant heap in the finishers’ chute! And I needed to get to the beer tent!

I ran this race with a group of friends, and that part was so much fun. Actually having others to watch for, cheer on, and meet up with was a blast. All the racers got a couple free Miller Lites afterwards, and I said that beer has never tasted so good.

Thankfully I was smart enough to bring a full change of clothes this time, so I was able to enjoy my beverages relatively sweat free. The forecast that morning had called for rain and thunderstorms, so I was anticipating being totally drenched with water, not just sweat. Either way, the spare clothes I had in my gear bag added to my post-race glee.

So, my friends, my D&L stroller training team paid off in spades this summer. I was beyond thrilled with all 3 of my race times, and all for varying distances, too, which was a first for me – a 23:00 5k, a 1:57 half marathon, and a 49:00 10k. Success!

Now I can just kick back and run for pure enjoyment and exercise. I took this whole week off from running, and it felt wonderful. Like I said, I walk so much now to school and back twice, I almost feel like that’s enough. But I should definitely get a little more pavement pounding in before the frigid air traps me inside this winter. At least I can just stick to my preferred 5k route now, not worrying about getting any specific distances in.

And here is what it looks like to happily close out a very productive running season:

Jrace

 

 

 

An answer, but still questions

I’ve finally figured out what’s been making me so ill at ease about this whole school thing with Della. It’s not the school or the teachers or the kids or their parents or the logistics or any of that.

It’s 100% me.

For pretty much as long as I can remember, I’ve always felt different than everyone else. And I’ve never known why. Still to this day, I have no idea what causes these feelings.

I don’t know if it was growing up with such a weird name (if anyone can tell me how to pronounce Picl, i’ll give you a hug), always being so much younger than the rest of my classmates (i would have been young for my grade with a may birthday anyway, but then i skipped a grade on top of that), always being a “smart kid” (though my friends were always smart and got good grades, too, so that was definitely not unique to me), or what, but I always felt like there was just something weird about me. I was different somehow.

In my mind, anyway.

No one ever bullied me or told me they didn’t like me or I couldn’t join them or they wanted me to go away, but I always felt like I didn’t quite fit in. Like I was always kind of the odd girl out. Like just a little bit I didn’t belong. Like people were always talking about me or somehow making fun of me.

I was never really the one everyone asked to do stuff with or be in their group or come to their party or go with them wherever, but I certainly wasn’t shunned either. I was much more of a homebody anyway, preferring to stay home with my family on the weekends instead of being at every party thrown around school, so that actually suited me just fine.

I always had good groups of friends growing up, too, so that even confounds me more as to from where these feelings stem. I don’t think I ever didn’t fit in, that’s the strange part. At least no one blatantly told me I didn’t, anyway.

I still kind of get a surge of this same feeling today, especially in new group situations. I’m a pretty shy person until I know you, then you usually can’t get me to shut up, so if I’m in a group setting where I know no one, I tend to be by myself, a little removed, waiting for an invitation in. It’s much less so than when I was a kid, but I can still feel it a little sometimes.

And it is exactly this that I never want our daughters to experience. I’m sure every kid is shy sometimes and may take a little while to warm up to new faces and places, but I never want them feeling left out or weird or different in a bad way. Because they aren’t.

They are the most beautiful, wonderful, amazing people I know, and it makes my heart ache just thinking that they might feel these same emotions of mine someday. So I really hope they never do. I want them to love being in school with new friends and doing new things and learning new lessons and ideas.

Unfortunately, being clueless as to what causes this in me, I’m not sure how to prevent it from churning in them as well. But I’m hell-bent on doing my best.

The blink of an eye

That’s seemingly how long it took us to get here…

IMG_1650

Della started K4 on Tuesday, and I still can’t believe it’s really happened. Each year as the girls age, I say it doesn’t seem as if time has completely flown by to get to that point. I feel like it really has been just over 4 years that we’ve known Della and almost 2 that we’ve known Lana.

And I don’t mean that in a bad, oh-my-gosh-I-can’t-take-another-day-with-these-two way. I mean that in the absolute best way possible – that even though time in general feels as if it flies by most of the time, my days with these girls haven’t felt so. This time has felt just right, something for which I am grateful.

But this whole school thing? Hoo boy, has it crept up on me something fierce.

Not once in her lifetime until just recently, and especially not even when I started staying home with Della and then both once Lana was born, did I realize that their school years were going to approach so quickly. It felt like we had eternity to be together at home, on our own schedule, doing whatever we wanted and whatever the days allowed.

Why, I have no idea, because all along I’ve fully known at what age kids go to school. And around here I’ve always known that K4 is included in our school system, so our kids would naturally be going to it.

But here we are. Back to school.

And I don’t really like it.

Yet.

P1150722

I know this will be a wonderful experience for her and for all of us, but it’s just going to take me some time to get there mentally.

I will admit, having these first 2 half days under our belts does make me feel a little better. Like ok, we really can do this. But tomorrow is her first full 3-hour day, so I have to get us up, ready, and out the door to be at school before 8:15. Good luck.

And I did meet some new parents today who seem really nice and easy to get along with, so that made me infinitely more at ease about this whole 14-year process. Yes, 14 years. That’s how long she will be in the public school system now. Class of 2028, anyone? I about die every time I hear that.

There was 1 thing, though, that did make my heart soar when I heard it. Today as we were walking home, Della said, “I love going to school.”

And exhale.

IMG_1663