52 Weeks of Us

52 of Him: Twelve

As I look at him peeking through the railings on the stairs, I really feel the weight of him growing up.  It seems like only yesterday we were putting up the safety gates at the top and bottom of the stairs, protecting our now mobile infant from their dangers.

Then, just after his 3rd birthday we decided on an impulse to take the gates down.  We didn’t even really debate or discuss the topic.  He just said to me, “I think I’m going to take these gates down today.”  And I said, “yeah, OK, I don’t see why not.”  After all, the little man was navigating the stairs with confidence.  And we were no longer obsessively making sure we closed the gates.  Well, a few minutes and several turns of a screwdriver later, they were gone.  The empty screw holes are now patched and painted, the gates erased from our daily lives.

But when we took the gates down, it was a bittersweet moment for me.  Obviously sweet because my son is growing and learning.  But at the same time bitter as I felt the heartache of a mother watching her baby grow up, passing a milestone.  He’s no longer a baby, or an infant, or a toddler.  He’s a full on boy already up to my belly button, the place where we were once connected.  One day he’ll tower over me and I’ll be the one looking up into his eyes and I can only hope that I’m doing my best to guide him on this path to manhood.

Teaching him to climb the stairs was just the beginning.  Now, I don’t even think twice about him on the stairs, even when he pretends to be a worm and slide down them on his belly feet first.  I trust him.  I trust that he’s learning his limitations.  How much has changed in just three short years.  My child, once completely dependent on me, now regularly stating emphatically, “No, I will do it by myself, mummy.”

I believe Gretchen Rubin when she says in The Happiness Project,

“The days are long, but the years are short.”

Sometimes it’s hard to get through the day and you’re counting down the hours until their bedtime, at least I am.  But then I have moments like this when I can barely remember the baby gates, and I can’t believe how fast the time has passed.

Twelve Month 10K Running Challenge for Crohn's
Running

I’m Up and Running

Running is the first exercise I ever remember doing. That first place ribbon I won in the 1st grade 50 yard dash was a treasure, its shiny blue satin a reminder of something I’d won and I was proud. I took it everywhere with me at the time. It’s likely now buried in a box deep in mom’s attic along with various other awards and certificates that mark my elementary school years.

Almost 40 years later I’m still running, though I don’t really consider myself a runner. But of all the exercise regimes I’ve tried, running is the one exercise that I always come back to. Aerobics. Step Aerobics. Swimming. Weight circuits. Cycling. Body Pump. Military SEAL style training. All tried. All abandoned. I now know myself well enough to know that I have no interest in throwing away any more money on a gym membership. It will not get used. Or it will for about 3 months and then the inertia required to get me there will be insurmountable.

But I’m up and running again because in a few short weeks, the years are about to roll over another click and I know that it’s about high time that I put a healthy relationship with my body closer to the top of my priority list. Use it or lose it, right? My sedentary career spent sitting for hours in front of a computer screen and developing bad posture has done nothing to help me prevent the osteoporosis that runs in the family. And as it’s been six months since my surgery and I can get a workout in without worrying that I’ll need to pull a Paula Radcliffe along the way, I now feel like I’m in a place where I can focus on exercise.

So I’m determined to make this running thing stick. At the beginning of the year, I signed myself up for a 10K race, the Oxford Town & Gown, which is in the middle of May. I know how I work. I need a goal, something to work toward, something to make me accountable. I now had a goal but my training plan was well, not happening. I’ll blame the winter weather and snow. (It is freaking miserable here people). But I definitely needed something or someone to get my act in gear. Otherwise I was going to have to walk 10K.

Enter Up and Running, a fantastic community of women runners that I discovered through Sas. Now, for the first time in my adult running life, I have what amounts to a personal trainer and a supportive group of women to share it with. While it always made perfect sense to me to enlist a personal trainer for things like weight training, I’d never thought to get advice on running, just thrown my shoes on and gone outside or on the treadmill with no real plan.

But now I’ve got a plan, I’m running sprint intervals, circuits, and fartleks. (Yeah, I didn’t know what they were either.)  The last time I remember running intervals was during my stint on the high school track team, running sprints around its L-shaped halls and slowing down just enough to make sure I didn’t wipe out as I made the 90 degree turn. And in just a couple of short weeks I’ve already noticed my running improving. Heck, I was even motivated enough to go running this weekend in a snowstorm. Sure the snow was pelting me in the face, but I was out running, and it was unexpectedly good.

I’ve recognized too that running really suits my personality. I need the alone time when I exercise, running in my own little world listening to tunes and clearing my head. And I find that so many good creative thoughts come to me when I’m running. Which is why I’m finding Up and Running so brilliant, I can run with people who will hold me accountable without actually having to run with people. In my workouts, I can focus on running against the only competition that matters, me.

Well, and this year at the Town and Gown 10K, I’m not letting a guy in a chicken suit finish ahead of me.

Have you started a new fitness plan this year?  How’s it going?  What’s keeping you accountable so you stick with it?

Spring training? I think not.

52 Weeks of Us

52 of Me: Eleven

This is where I sit and do my work, my office.  The view ahead a catalog of sustenance.  Coffee maker.  Oven.  Refrigerator.  And I sit here on a bar stool desperately in need of a healthy dose of WD-40 to keep it from making an infernal squeaking noise every time I even breathe.  Either that or one day I may throw it out the window.  Squeak.  Squeak.  Squeak.  As if the tinnitis in my left ear wasn’t enough drive me mad.

52 Weeks of Us

52 of Him: Eleven

I now know the secret of getting real genuine happy smiles out of him.  Just get him laughing and playing with daddy.

52 Weeks of Us

52 of Me: Ten

One of the things I’ve really embraced here in the UK are these huge charity events, Comic Relief and Sport Relief, where the whole nation gets involved.  I’ve never seen anything like this in the US, where everywhere you turn there are celebrities doing extreme challenges, fundraisers at schools, banners at shops, and programs on radio and TV.  It’s just really refreshing to see so many people coming together for something so positive.

So today, in honor of Red Nose Day, we’ve got our red noses on.  Why not head on over to find out what it’s all about and donate.