What running does not feel like.

I have shared what running often feels like to me: meditative, refreshing, calming, frustrating and rewarding.  What it shouldn't feel like is having a 2 ton elephant taking a nap on your chest.  There was a time in my life though when this is exactly what running felt like for me.  If this is what running feels like to you, maybe I can help shove off  that elephant!

I knew I had some allergies.  In my 20's I had the whole back-scratch testing done, and it showed I had outdoor allergies, like grass and some trees, mold and dust.  As long as I took an over-the-counter antihistamine, things remained pretty much in control.  Then I went through a body altering experience and everything changed.  Pregnancy:  not only did I lose a bunch of awesome shoes due to a full size increase in my foot, I gained some never-there-before-waves to my hair. In addition, I apparently gained some allergies to dogs and cats.  So it makes perfect sense why I live with 4 cats and a dog now, right??

When I began to run in 2008, my chest was always tight.  When it was windy, it was worse. I just thought this was what running felt like.  Even as I became more conditioned and trained, it just always felt hard to breathe.  I just muscled through it, and thought I was pretty tough for doing this sport that felt so horrible.  Those that could push through and ignore the inability to breathe where those mystical creatures called "runners."  I was feeling pretty badass about being one of those people.

It wasn't until an overnight stay in a home which housed several dogs that I finally started connecting the dots.  My animal allergy had always been an annoyance when I wasn't diligent in taking my antihistamines.  My eyes would itch and my nose would run, but it was annoying, not frightening.  That night as I laid in bed with the Good Doctor, I was mentally talking myself out of an ER visit.  I literally could.not.breathe.  My breaths sounded like a combination of a dying goose and a squeaking mouse.  There was an elephant on my chest who had no interest in removing itself.  I had to sit upright in bed to get any air in. The Good Doctor, never having witnessed this before, said I sounded asthmatic.   The episode eventually subsided, but it was with great clarity that we realized I must have excercise/allergy induced asthma.

As I mourned the loss of my perceived badassery, I was overjoyed that maybe running could feel something other than difficult.  After moving to Valley City, I decided to be officially tested for asthma.  Asthma testing requires a lot of deep breath taking, and then measuring those breaths.  Then they give you a little puff of stuff to breath in.  There is like 9 increasing doses. If you react to any of those increasing doses, you have a diagnosis of asthma.  Within about 45 seconds of the first dose of the magical irritant, the elephant, and about 3 of his friends were planted firmly on my chest.  The Respiratory Therapist bluntly said, "You look like crap" and I fully agreed.   He gave me inhalers to reverse the attack, and I left there with the knowledge that I had in fact been reacting to allergens and my sport.

Nowadays, 2 little puffs on my inhaler prior to a run has made a night and day difference in what running feels like.  It is enjoyable, restorative and not nearly as suffocating as it once was.  If exercise feels like elephants camping out on your chest, maybe you also have exercise induced asthma.  Keep track of when you find it difficult to breath, and if it coincides with allergies and/or exercise, it may be worth investigating with your physician.  While running isn't the exertion level of shuffleboard, and it does take some cardiovascular training, it should not feel horrible and asphyxiating. Happy Running!

The exhaustion of being "on."

Parenting is exhausting. I don't mean the first months of sleepless nights, the crying, the night feedings, waking in the morning to find you have put a clean diaper over a dirty one.  Those are physically exhausting times, but the beauty of that early time is that if you are more cloth monkey than wire monkey in your mothering, your baby is going to be fine.  

I am talking about the exhaustion that comes when they are older.  The exhaustion that comes with being "on" almost all of your waking hours.  Even the most demanding professions usually come with two 15 minute breaks and a half hour or hour lunch.  I'm beginning to think I should loan my 3 children to investigative agencies for their tracking skills, because they ALWAYS FIND ME.  They must have a heightened sense of smell that is exclusively used in locating and zeroing in on the smell of despair, because within 42 seconds of locking the bathroom door, they have found me.   

As they age past nighttime feedings into toddlerdom and beyond, the exhaustion of trying to be a good parent is overwhelming.  I don't mean "good" as in mastering the most vogue pinterest birthday treats-giving the latest electronic device-ensuring they have the current in-fashion wardrobe "good".  I mean good as in my ultimate hope is we are raising children who will eventually be productive, accountable members of society, a society they don't feel entitlement from, or that they are owed from.  Children that, when finding themselves in tough situations, will make good choices because we have instilled them them decision making abilities.  Children that will know life isn't always fair.  It is exhausting being "on", and also continually shutting up that bad parent voice that sits on the exhausted, selfish, responsibility-free dusty shelf located in the corner of my brain.  For Example....

My Oldest (age 9): "Mom can I play Minecraft?"
Me: "No"
My Oldest: "PLEASE can I play Minecraft?"
Me: "No, go play with some Legos."
My Oldest: "Mom, I made my bed."
Me: "Thank you!!"
My Oldest: "Now I get to play Minecraft?"
Me: (Bad parent voice starting play in my head says: 'For the love of Pete, let him play already so we can get to page 3 of the People magazine, we have been trying to read this for 35 minutes!!') "No, I said no Minecraft! How about you go play with your Lego Minecraft set or go do some origami?"

6 MINUTES LATER

My Oldest: "Mom, here is an origami Yoda and Darth Vader and a leaping frog and a  fox.  Now can I play Minecraft?

Me: (Bad parent voice really starting to bark 'Screw it!! Let him do it! We can enjoy the next 14 hours in peace!!) "No. I have said no, and my answer isn't going to change.  Please go find something to do!"  (Bad parent voice grumbles in my head, and knows this is probably round 1 of 3 of this same scenario that will occur this evening.)

When it comes to 3 year olds, they are not quite the negotiators, but the perpetual motion they are in, and the desire to teach them to make good choices creates never ending exhaustion.  Examples:

"No we don't eat BBQ chips for breakfast."

"No we don't stack stools on top of laundry baskets on top of chairs to get something (like childrens' Advil) because you can fall and get hurt."

"No we don't put kitties in the washing machine (or dryer) because they can get hurt."

"No we don't throw Thomas the Tank Engine at brother's head because it hurts."

"No we don't fee the dog chips (or Clif bars, or meat, or pretzels, or cereal, or crackers) even though she really likes them because she will get sick.

"No we don't eat 7 bags of fruit snack because you will get sick."

"No we don't color on the walls, only paper."

"I see you did that! That's wallpaper. We don't rip that off."

(Bad Parent: "Oh Shiiiiiiit.")

"No we don't cut Mommy's stuff, only paper.

(Bad Parent screams: "F&%$K! You CUT THAT ????)

"No, you can't watch Cars again, (and again and again...)"

(Bad parent pipes up, "Give the child a bag of cheetos and put in Cars, on repeat. We have a Hoarders marathon to watch.")

When I comes to my daughter, at every turn I feel like I am waging a war against societal pressures women face to be skinny, pretty and perfect.  The conversations are always heated and passionate, and exhausting:

My Daughter (age 6): "I want to wear my pink skirt."

Me: "I'm sorry, it isn't washed yet. Wear some jeans."

My Daughter: "JEANS are UUUUUGLY."

Me:  "It's -27, it is more important to be warm, and kind and smart."

My Daughter: "Jeans are not pretty!

Me:  "It's -27, it is more important to be warm, and kind and smart."

My Daughter:  "No one will think I'm pretty!!!" (insert flailing and back bending tantrum about here)

Me:  "It's -27, it is more important to be warm, and kind and smart.  How about jeggings?"

My Daughter:  " I HATE jeggings!! THEY FALL DOWN!!" (Said no female ever, except my daughter."

Me:  (Bad parent at this point is slugging back whiskey at 7:30am as she sits on that dusty shelf in my brain saying "Give her the damn skirt! Who cares if it smells like feet and dirty dishclothes! She'll stop this fit!) "It's -27, it is more important to be warm, and kind and smart."

And this will be the first of many of these encounters this week.

It is wearing. It is all out exhausting to be present, and meaningful, and honest. And honestly, there ARE days I miss those days of my 20's when I could sit, uninterrupted and watch TLC all afternoon, and eat a pint of spinach dip for lunch as I sat wrapped in a blanket.  No one to worry about except me and my cat.  My 17 year old geriatric cat probably misses those days more frequently than I.  And honestly, there may have been a morning recently where multigrain Doritos seemed close enough to Chex cereal to count for a breakfast food for the 3 year old.   And maybe I hope by acknowledging the exhaustion it will validate that I'm doing something right.  So as with so many things, I guess this quote is perfect for parenting: "It's not going to be easy, it's going to be worth it."

  

What to do with all that venison sausage....

I'm pretty sure there are other women out there that have a freezer full of venison sausage. In this part of the country, that Friday in November is anticipated by hunters as greatly as Christmas morning is to a child. This year, we only filled one tag, but still have quite a freezer full of meat.  Completely bored out of my gourd with sausage and kraut, or sausage and potatoes, or sausage and more sausage, I found something else to do with it. After putting the ingredients into a recipe calculator, it came out to around 200-225 calories per cup, so a pretty healthy alternative to any cream based recipe, and by using Venison vs. kielbasa, you save some calories. The original recipe came from Epicurious, but here is my tweaked version:

Sausage and Leek Soup

yield Makes 6 main-course servings

Ingredients

• 4 medium leeks (white and pale green parts only), halved lengthwise, then chopped
• 1 large carrot, finely chopped
• 1 celery rib, finely chopped
• 1 stick (1/2 cup) unsalted butter
• 8 cups chicken stock or low-sodium chicken broth (64 fluid ounces)
• 2 medium boiling potatoes
• 5 tablespoons all-purpose flour
• 1 ring Venison sausage
• 1/2 tsp dried marjoram
• White pepper to taste

Preparation

Wash leeks in a large bowl of cold water, then lift out and drain well in a colander.

Cook carrot and celery in 1/2 stick butter (Or olive oil) in a 4- to 5-quart heavy saucepan over moderate heat, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 3 minutes. 

Add leeks and cook, stirring, until softened, about 3 minutes. Add stock and bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer, partially covered, 15 minutes.  

While stock simmers, brown sausage in separate pan in a small amount of water, ensuring not to burn sausage.  When browned, slice into thin rings.  Also while stock simmers, peel potatoes and cut into 1/2-inch cubes.

Melt remaining 1/2 stick butter (must use butter here) in a small heavy saucepan over low heat, then add flour and cook roux, whisking, ~3 minutes. Remove from heat and add 2 cups simmering stock, whisking vigorously (mixture will be thick), then whisk flour mixture into remaining stock and return to a simmer, whisking.

Add potatoes, sliced sausage, and marjoram and simmer soup, partially covered, until potatoes are tender, 10 to 15 minutes. Season with salt and white pepper.

I served this with french bread.  It reheated beautifully the next day.

The Rekindling of Friendships

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The Rekindling of Friendships

           

This was the article I meant to write for last week’s paper, but in true Chaos in Motion form, I was fixed to the couch with a three year old in my lap for about 3 days as he fought fever and chest congestion.  On the upside of it, I did get some amazing cuddles  and “Wuv you’s” and the opportunity to see Disney Pixar’s “Planes” movie… about 237 times.  So anyway…

“A year from now, you’ll be glad you started today.” I have always loved this quote. It shifts my thinking from looking towards a huge, seemingly impossible challenge, to looking back at an achievement. Since this will be my 40^th year on God’s great earth (come July) I have some lofty goals for 2014.  Therefore last night I decided to meet up with an old friend.  Afterwards I had that feeling of “Why have I waited so long to do this??”  My old friend and I go back to my mid twenties. Before marriage, and before kids.  I always felt better after meeting my friend. Though my old friend sometimes smells a bit funky, I don’t mind.  You see my friend is the gym.  Tuesday I joined the Valley City Rec Center, and I had not had a foot inside a gym for over 4 years. 

When the Good Doctor was in Iowa, there were a few perks of residency, in addition to the 80 hour work weeks, and getting to dine as a family in the soft glow of fluorescent lights in the hospital cafeteria, there was the Hospital owned haunted rental in which we lived that literally had no insulation.  But the best perk was a YMCA membership.  The Y in Mason City was built only a few years before we moved there and was a wonderful facility.  The best part of the facility, as decided by Residency spouses, was the drop in day-care available.  What this actually translated to all of us was the opportunity to take a shower. In peace.  For as long as we wanted.  With no small eyeballs watching us.  The work out acquired while there was a mere side benefit.

But since moving here, I hadn’t joined a gym.  For what reason? None really that I can even think about.  I think I may have peeked into the rec shortly after moving here, and thought…”meh….”  And then I got pregnant, and then had a baby, and then my memory fails me for the next year after that… But sometime in the last few months, I heard that the Rec was open 24/7, which was a huge bonus for this night-owl, and I peeked in there when my son was giving roller skating a shot, and I was hugely impressed.

Tuesday night I decided to meet up with my old friend. Not that I have broken up with running, I just need more.  My body misses the burn that only those Nautilus machines can yield.  I need to work different muscles in an environment that is not my basement, where my children use the treadmill as monkey bars, while I am running.  It was like meeting up with an old friend, talking and laughing until you are crying and then realizing the hours have slipped by. Then wondering why you haven’t done this sooner.  Yup, that was what the workout was like.  I’ll spare you the play by play, but an hour and a half had passed before I knew it, and I felt like I was “me” again.  I also realized that my last remaining nerve that the Polar Vortex and housebound kids had frayed to a pulpy rawness, had been somewhat mended.  

I’ve decided that I will run the Fargo Marathon’s Half Marathon again this year, should my left foot and heel decide to behave.  This will be the Marathon’s 10^th year, and my 6^th running of Fargo. My goal is it to be my fastest.  I am 6 years older one more kid, and also heavier than my first run.  I can’t change the age or the kid part, but I am going to desperately try to change the weight part.  I am not going to address weight much in these pieces, because I believe scales are just numbers, and I would rather be healthy, fit and heavy, than rail skinny and unable to run after my kids.  The pounds on a scale also are not always indicative of important things like resting heart rate, cholesterol level and risk of heart disease.  In fact the more I have run, the heavier I have become. So while the 25 year old me was lighter, the 39 year old me ran 26.2 miles.  I will take health over “a low number” any day.  All that being said, all my jeans have miraculously shrunk between November and January!  

So I am going to go back to using another old friend: the“My Fitness Pal” app on my smartphone.  You can also utilize this tool on the computer, if you don’t have a smart phone, but I find it extremely helpful to consciously eat.  It is very simple. Basically you enter in what you want your daily allowance of calories to be and then record what you eat.  (Note! It defaults to a ridiculously low number of calories for an active person, like 1200 or something like that, so make sure you increase it!! ) If you have a smartphone, you simply scan the barcode of any packaged item you eat, and it records it.  You also then enter any exercise you complete for the day.  Making me conscious about what I am choosing to put in my body, makes eating for the right reasons, and eating the right kinds of foods a little easier

My 2014 has already started with a rekindling of old “friendships.”  What are your goals for this year?  When you read this piece, it will be page one of a book called “2014”.   350 some pages later, what adventures will have twisted and turned through the beautiful journey you call life?

My Santa List

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My Santa List

            Dear Santa, I know I am a little late with my list this year, but really, does that surprise you? This time of the year I am lucky if I remember to put on pants, so I’ m happy to find a moment in the chaos to get this off to you.  In no particular order, here is my wish list for this year:

1. Could I get 8 more hours per day?  I think that would be helpful. Ok, I would even be grateful for 6 if you could manage that. 

2.  Socks. I don’t mean running socks because I have oodles of those. I mean socks that adult women are supposed to have, and somehow I have managed to get to almost 40 with about 3 pairs. What is up with that? Preferably in colors that don’t stain when I step in the surprises my cats leaves me. 

3.  I would love a clean car. I don’t mean the outside; that is rather pointless this time of year. I’m talking about the inside. Currently the floor is covered with 3 shoes, 13 mittens (none of which match) wooden blocks, countless matchbox cars, half eaten suckers, quite a bit of white dog hair, several art masterpieces by my daughter, and only heaven knows what the 3^rd row seat contains, because no one over the age of 9 has laid eyes on that territory in many months. 

4.  I would really really appreciate if the dog would stop using her feet, legs, hips and back as her personal chew toys, despite the half dozen rawhides and chewy toys laying around the house. Not only would I appreciate it, I do believe in the long run she would also appreciate it. 

5. Laundry prophylactics.  If this doesn’t exist I think your elves can invent it.  It really needs to stop reproducing.  It is getting a bit out of hands these days.  If it came with a bonus laundry elf that would be wonderful!

6.  For my 3 year old to show ANY interest in using the potty like a big boy.  If that isn’t feasible I would settle for him not removing his socks and shoes the moment we walk through Leever’s doors to grocery shop.

7.  Maybe once a month, that my children would approach me about 7:30pm and say, “Parents, we are exhausted. We are going to turn in for the evening. Good night. Love you!”  Now I know that may be crazy talk, but a girl can dream right? You are Santa after all!!

8.  While I appreciate her attempts to serenade me, I would really like if the kitten would not choose 4am as her time to play piano.  She also could use help with her chords, and her timing is a bit off. 

9.  In true Christmas spirit, I want for others too. Specifically I would like young women to realize leggings are not pants. Let me clarify: Leggings with a long tunic or sweater? Perfectly acceptable and stylish.  Leggings with a short sweatshirt or shirt? Nope. They are not pants. The only exceptions are if you are going to or from the gym, or are out running miles.  Jeans are pants, slacks are pants, corduroys are pants. Leggings are not pants. 

10.  What I want mostly though is that my friends and family know how much I love them and how grateful I feel for them.  In my mind there is time enough to create something special for each one of them, to show them how much they have meant to me this past year.  In reality, some may be end up getting a Groundhog Day gift…. That is why #1 would be greatly appreciated!

My Public Break Up

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My Public Break-Up

            As I sit here by the fire, gazing out my window to the vast blanket of frozen white that covers every recognizable surface, sipping on my third cup of coffee, I find myself thinking of you.  Fantasizing about you to be exact.  My mind returns to you and our times together despite the half decorated Christmas tree, the Christmas card that has yet to be created and the “to do” list that stretches to Pingree.  But I realize this behavior isn’t healthy, this longing and wishing is not productive, so as this year winds down to an end, it is probably time to end the farce that our relationship has become, and so here it goes:

            Dear Sleep,

I am sorry to tell you this, but it just isn't working. We have tried for over 9 years, really we have, but its just not working. Please, don't be sad or take it personally, it isn't you, it is me. I have met someone else, well, really three people.  These relationships are just too demanding and necessary for me to continue a relationship with you. Don't feel bad, you are beautiful, satisfying and so many people are blessed to know you. It just can't be with you and me. But believe me, I wish it could be. I will confess to you, that although I am in these other relationships, I daydream about getting in the car and driving to a hotel to meet you... to close the blinds and just be with you for hours and hours. But, it just can't be. I will never forget those Saturday mornings, just you and me.  The lazy afternoons on the couch, under a blanket when you embraced me and all was right with the world.  And how could I ever forget on the floating island, at the lake under the sun. Sleep, you did things to my body I haven't felt in so long... we were so good for each other. But recently, you have become as elusive as Sasquatch or good lutefisk… I hear of these things, but have yet to witness them. 

            And yet, there are times, I think maybe we can make it work. Maybe if I try hard enough, I can find a place for you in my life.  But then the stark reality of vomit, or the dog deciding to eat greasy paper-towels or “I need 2 dozen treats by tomorrow” spoken at 9pm hits me. Then like a ghostly apparition, you dissipate in front of me. 

But go, go and share your beauty with others.  Knowing you well, I suggest maybe you could be happy with a single person, or one without children… or a teenager.   My hope is maybe someday we will meet again. But until that day, I will catch glimpses of you around me, like your romanticized versions in mattress commercials.   I will remember all the wonderful times we shared and will be glad that I once knew you and called you mine.

           

A Reflection of Thanks

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A Reflection of Thanks

            In this week of Thanksgiving, I’ve taken the time to reflect on some experiences that I am hugely grateful for, and that have helped shaped the person I have become.  At first you may think I’m referring to the glamorous life as a stay at home mom, with my days filled with taping and texturing sheetrock, finding the dog and the toddler splitting a box of Lucky Charms in the middle of the living room floor or investigating if there are teeth on the eldest’s toes, since no one should humanly burn through socks that quickly.  No, while grateful for all of that chaos, there are certain things I’ve experienced that forever changed me.

            The Good Doctor and I waited for 5 years to have children.  It was a conscious choice.  There really is never the perfect time to have a baby, but we were aiming for the least worst time, which hopefully would entail some financial stability that would allow us to care for another human being.  For this I will always, bitter sweetly, be grateful.  The bitter part being losing my mother two weeks after finding out I was expecting our first child, the sweet part was how it solidified our marriage. You see, I really like my husband.  I like being with and around him.  I’ve always had fun being his wife. We got to be a couple for 5 years. We got to be spontaneous and head out the door in an instant to a destination decided on 3 seconds before. Very unlike the strategic planning, act of Congress, 2 stuffed bears, one blanket and an iPod it takes to get out the door these days.  When we moved to a 5 square mile island in the middle of the Caribbean ocean for almost 2 years, we had only each other… and when you have only 5 square miles of terrain with only two ways off the island, you had no choice but to work things out.  I am so grateful we had this time to be a couple, before being thrust into the great upheaval that is parenthood.  Parenting isn’t for sissies, and I am forever grateful we had that base to build upon. I love being a mother, but I’ve tried to not sacrifice the role of wife in the process.  I have always tried to keep in mind that someday the three kids with be gone (and hopefully not move back in) and I want to be able to look at him and say “Hey… you!” and not “Who are you?”

            In our time together, my hubby and I have participated in a couple mission trips.  There is no way to participate in a mission trip and not come back home unchanged.  Early on in our marriage we spent two weeks in India, and witnessed life and health care in that amazing, overwhelming, sensory- overloading country and during our time living in Iowa, the church we attended participated in a project called Mission Jamaica.  Mission Jamaica had several different projects, but the one we participated in was helping at a children’s’ orphanage in the hills of Jamaica.  My visions of these sweet children at this isolated place still linger in my mind.  These were not just orphaned children; they were all disabled orphaned children.  Many had Multiple Sclerosis, and if in the US, these kids would function, with help, along side their classmates, as MS strikes the body, not the mind.  In this orphanage, these crumpled bodies had been discarded with their minds intact.  The one cabin shared one toothbrush amongst 9 kids.  This is mainly because poverty is so rampant and the large quantity of supplies given by missionaries are either pilfered by employees or hoarded for fear the donations may cease to continue.

            The joy on the children’s faces at our presence was beyond words.  They knew what the missionaries did, and that was touch them, hold them, talk to them… They knew that, if only for a few days, we would be present to their alert mind trapped in a tangled mess of limbs.  There was no way to not let my experiences there affect they way I interacted with my own children. 

            I definitely have moments that I wonder if that day was the day that would require a dozen counseling sessions for one of my kids.  We all have those days.  But what I am so grateful for, in regards to my mission trips, is learning what kids crave, and what they want is not so much stuff, but presence, and time and touch.  And I am as guilty as anyone to be caught up with “Just a minute!” and cave at the $1 bins at Target, but then the memory of child without a toothbrush to call his own will slip in from the edges of my mind and we will have a “Staff meeting” with the kids.  We will talk about stuff, and how we have a lot of stuff, and how some kids have no stuff, and how picking up the stuff is making Mommy crazy.  Yet the crazy thing is, the kids get it. They understand. And given a choice between Legos or going to a museum together, they want the togetherness.  One of them may prefer togetherness at the mall, but the understanding is there.  I am so thankful for some of the things I have had the chance to see and do.  One can’t know, what they don’t know.  I would not have known how fortunate I am without seeing first hand the poverty and destitution I have seen.  It is my goal that in gentle ways, I can pass on to my children what I have learned and they will embrace gratitude.