On Compensating

5:20 a.m.

My alarm sounded from underneath the worn and thin pillow on the bed, and I groped for my phone. It took two, maybe three tries for my brain to connect with the nerve endings in my hand so that I could turn it off.

Turn it off before anyone woke up. Mark, Miles, Si ... especially Si.

I padded downstairs and went through my normal pre-run routine. I made coffee, went to the bathroom, made something to eat. I poured coffee and plated my food, eating and drinking as I scrolled on my phone. I got dressed. I went to the bathroom again. I put on my shoes.

And on this day, a recent Saturday, I filled up the bladder to my Nathan vest, tossing in three fruit punch Nuun tabs and two Nuun Plus tabs. I downloaded the new Another Mother Runner podcast and slipped an extra tank in my pack.

I looked at the clock. 10 minutes. I'd leave then, so that I could begin the first part of my long run. This leg, the first of three, would be solo before meeting up with friends for another 5 and then running a 4-mile race to hit 16 for the day.

Just as I weighed the merits of another cup of coffee versus another bathroom stop, I heard the babbling of a small but mighty Si upstairs. I put the cup down, opened the freezer and grabbed a waffle for the toaster.

I went from wondering what to do with 10 minutes to moving about furiously. Buttering and cutting the pastry, destemming grapes, pouring milk. Climbing up the stairs, showering a cute face with kisses, changing a dirty diaper. I peeked in on Mark and told him he had 5 minutes – and to enjoy them.

The 5 minutes he laid in bed I spent trying to make up for the fact that I'd be gone for the better part of 3 hours so that I could run 16 miles.

And the next day, Sunday, I spent the better part of the afternoon trying to do the same. I tried to change all the dirty diapers. Do an extra load of laundry. Make bacon. Be extra dutiful. I went shopping with the boys while Mark went to the movies.

But as I stood in Gymboree, watching Miles try on Halloween shirts (he wanted one that glows in the dark) and listening to Si scream from the stroller, I put my hands in my head. I took four deep breaths – just like Daniel Tiger instructs – and wondered what I was doing.

I could have stayed home. I could have picked up the house. I could have sat the kids in front of the TV instead of making a trip to Barnes & Noble to get the boys each a book and later to Starbucks for cake pops.

I could have done anything but what I was doing – compensating.

While I am fervent in my belief that moms should not feel guilty for working out or going to run, myself included, marathon training is a whole different beast. I do feel guilty that I'm leaving for three, four hours a day on a weekend and then spending another hour cleaning up, shoveling food and trying to feel normal.

I have feelings, as my friends say, about my training taking priority for not just one weekend but for 16 of them. That my kids wake up and I am not home. That when they ask where I am that the answer is always, "Momma is running."

So I treat my boys – all three of them. I take them to lunch, buy them fun things, make the dinners they like. I try to make sure that I talk to them about anything but running.

I try to compensate.

#BeMonumental {Week 1}

When I registered for the Indianapolis Monumental Marathon on Jan. 1, running marathon was just an idea. A seemingly good one but, nonetheless, still just a thought. I could tell people that I was running a marathon in 2016 without the actual pressure of doing the work.

Well, my friends, that has changed.

On July 4, 18 weeks out from M-Day, the work began ... with an easy 3 miles with strides. Oh, how I love the first week of a training plan.

For this cycle, I am did something different – I paid for a training plan. I didn't hire a coach; rather, I signed up for the Train Like A Mother Club and its fall marathon challenge. I have been lucky enough to follow along with my BRF and the TLAM half plan and my BFF and the 5K plan. Both schedules have helped me get back my speed (and then some) after having Si, and I credit the TLAM plan for my PR at the Carmel half. Not only did I feel like I owed the mother runners some of my money but I felt confident that the workouts would be challenging yet manageable.

And I was right. There's one to two quality workouts a week, and I have the option to hit 20 miles twice (or just once if I am feeling not so into it). I will max out around 40 miles during weeks 14-15. The challenging aspect will be race pace miles during long runs and midweek long runs that buildup from easy pace to race pace to tempo and then climb down.

I'm not going to lie – when I put the plan into a larger spreadsheet, which I printed out and put on the fridge for Mark, I got scared. It's a lot. But, one day, one workout at a time.

Here's how my first week shook out:

monday
distance | 3 miles
time | 28:25
pace | 9:28
notes | hotel treadmill, humid and icky

wednesday
distance | 5.1 miles
time | 45:39
pace | 8:56
notes | tempo

thursday
distance | 4.1 miles
time | 37:00
pace | 9:00
notes | strides

sunday
distance | 10 miles
time | 1:35:15
pace | 9:30
notes | seriously consistent splits {for me} – 9:43, 9:29, 9:33, 9:25, 9:32, 9:25, 9:19, 9:31, 9:28, 9:39

Global Running Day: 4 ways to celebrate with your kids

Today is National Running Day. Wait. Scratch that. Today is Global Running Day.

Global Running Day is a day "for people around the world to celebrate the joys of running."

It's a day to honor why you run.

It's a day to share with those you run with.

It's a chance to reignite your passion for the sport.

And, it's a chance to inspire a similar passion in others.

As a mother runner to two gorgeous boys, my goal today – Global Running Day – is to do all of that not just for them but with them.

Both Miles and Silas have been a part of my running since they were born. Actually, before as I was able to run for the majority of my pregnancies. Once they exhibited good head control, they were strapped into the car seat and I pushed them in the BOB Ironman thanks to an adapter. As they got older, I ditched the adapter and used the five-point harness. Si has even accompanied me for a race – a Girls on the Run 5K last May.

Of the two, though, Miles is my running buddy. I pushed him in the stroller as I trained for my first 26.2, the 2012 Columbus Marathon, and for a number of other events. He's been on short runs and long runs, logging hundreds of miles on those three wheels. He's begged to go on the run, dared me to farther, urged me to go faster and relentlessly requested to go up bigger and bigger hills.

Now that he's getting older (he'll turn 5 in July), he's not just content to sit back and watch me pound the pavement. He wants to hop out and go for it, too. It's a joy to see him become interested in the sport that is more than something that I do but something I am.

And because he's had a hand in helping me become the runner I am, I would be remiss not to celebrate Global Running Day with him.

Here are ways you, too, can celebrate the day with your children.

Make time. Planning a run can be challenging when you are contending with work schedules, spouses, other children and life commitments. On this day, instead of finding time to run when it's most convenient for you, create an opportunity for your child to join you. Maybe it's a quick run around the block while dinner finishes up in the oven (assuming someone else is in the house) or after eating while your spouse so kindly cleans up.

Sign up for a race. I once lamented that there just weren't enough running events that were family-friendly in my area. There were plenty of 5Ks but very, very few had shorter sprints and dashes for the children. I'm happy to report that things are changing here. Log onto your local running club's website and look for races that have kids miles or are stroller-friendly. Be sure to take into consideration whether the race has family-friendly activities after your runner finishes and if medals are handed out. Ask your budding runner which race he would like to do and sign him up. I'm eyeing the Taste of the Arts 4-Mile Run,which has a free (!!!) kids mile.

The chase is on. Children might not find the same satisfaction as you while running through the neighborhood or in a race. And that's OK. However, that doesn't mean they can't run with you. Play a game of tag in the backyard, set up an obstacle course or organize a neighborhood dash with his friends. Remember, running at this age should be about fun more than fitness.

Put a shoe on it. Kids are hard on shoes. I lament that I can buy Miles a new pair of sneakers and the soles will be worn thin within 6 weeks. While those shoes are just fine for play, consider getting your little running buddy fitted for his own pair of shoes. My favorite local running store carries kids sizes from reputable running brands such as New Balance. Getting him a dedicated pair of running shoes, just like you, can help keep him excited about running. Miles recently got a pair of New Balance Vazee Rush, which he has deemed comfortable and super cool (though not as cool as his Highlights Tote). The shoe features "all the technology aspiring athletes need, and nothing they don't, this shoe accommodates their growing need for speed."

And if Miles is any indication, there's plenty of speed in those feet.

Happy running day!

Disclosure: Miles and I each received a pair of New Balance Vazee shoes in honor of running day but I was not compensated or asked to write this post. All opinions are my own – including that it is of the utmost importance to not only display an active lifestyle but to encourage one.

Weekly Training Update {4/25-5/1}

We're getting there folks.

After nearly two weeks of lackluster runs after the Carmel half marathon, I got in some decent miles over the weekend that reminded me that recovery does not translate to lost fitness. If anything, it's letting the gains take up residence.

{Highlight} Running on the Chicago lakefront. There's something about being in a different city, being next to the water that just makes my heart happy. My girlfriends and I spent the weekend in the Windy city and when I was making up our itinerary, I made sure to plan some runs. On Saturday, we did a 5K near Soldier Field (not much to report – dreary, overcrowded and a race that's more about the cause than logistics). On Sunday, I went out by myself, running from our hotel to Navy Pier and back.

{Lowlight} Trying to push the pace too quickly after the half and when it didn't go so stellar, letting the races affect my confidence.

{On the humorous side} GPS maps from big city runs are always a joke – for me at least – as the tall buildings seem to affect satellite reception and thus data. My Garmin seemed to get it all right in the end but when the data was sent to Strava, my run went from 5 miles to 5.6 and it said I had a 6:48 last mile. I have never ran a sub-7 mile, and I doubt I would do it at the end of an easy run. Of course, maybe I woke up Kenyan and didn't get the memo.

The week, in training:

Tuesday: 5 miles
Wednesday: 4 miles
Thursday: 5 miles
Saturday: Chicago Police Memorial 5K
Sunday: 5 miles

And snow it begins

Give me a snow day or give me death!

Or you can give me a two-hour delay and ruin my life.

Dramatic much? I think ... maybe.

Anyway ...

My training for the Carmel half marathon began this week. Sure, it's a bit early for an April 16 race, especially as I have a solid base of 8-mile long runs. However, I'm following a "Train Like A Mother" plan, and they tend to be a bit longer. It appealed to me for myriad reasons but mostly it gave me the chance to cut the crap and focus.

And focus I wanted to.

I was ready. I was willing. I had a plan for the plan. Tuesday morning, I would drop off the boys and head to the Y. (The weather was beyond frigid, and I have yet to put on my big girl winter running tights.) I would run 5 miles total with 1.5 miles at tempo. I'm still trying to nail down what my paces should be but I was hoping for 8:35.

I rehearsed the run in my head. I repeated self affirmations that I was able to hit those numbers and even if I couldn't on that day, I could and have on others. The run wouldn't determine the training cycle.

I'm really hoping the latter is true because the run didn't happen. Those frigid temperatures prompted a two-hour school delay and thus eating into my golden hour of running.

When I would have been through the warm-up, I was packing up the car. When I would have been bumping up the pace, I was nursing Si at daycare. When I would have been showering at the Y, I was waiting in the drop-off line. (If you have ever waited in a drop-off line with the hordes of rabid mini-van driving moms, you know I needed the run at this point.)

And, maybe the worst part, the regular door monitors weren't even there so they didn't see me dressed in real clothes! Gah!

Oh well.

It all worked out. Sort of. I ran a quick 3 miles after my Tuesday night class, aiming for that tempo pace. I didn't feel satisfied, stopping to fidget with my hair and tank, so I might try it later in the week. Or I might not.

It will be what it will be what it will be. Ya know? And until then, dear weather gods, I'd prefer closures. The running options are much better under those circumstances ;)

Splitting the Negative

It was the "Train Like A Mother" Finish It plan that first introduced me to the negative split. I was following the schedule as I trained for the Columbus Marathon in 2012. Depending on the prescribed workout, the goal was to run particular sections of the run faster than the previous sections.  One day, it might be a 6-mile run split into three 2-mile sections and the next, it might be a 5-mile run split up into two 2-mile sections and a 1-mile fast finish.

The workouts were challenging, a mix of patience, strategy, speed and resolve. When you nailed it, the satisfaction was immeasurable.

As such, it's a run that I regularly incorporate into my training – whether I'm following a particular plan or not. My BRF Tami and I recently finished a 5-miler with an 8:3X split because I knew the negative split was possible.

On Thursday, I headed out to do the same – this time instructed by the five-week Striding through the Holidays plan from the Another Mother Runner challenge. But I lacked the enthusiasm I usually do for tackling negative splits.

• Si is teething and fussy. Set him down and he screams.
• Si is teething and is pooping accordingly. That morning, projectile shit shooting onto my leg.
• Miles is testing his limits when it comes to limits on TV and sugary treats. The mornings most often end in tears but he was particularly fiery and still had watery eyes when I dropped him off at school.

Physically and mentally, I was spent. However, I had already completed the easy run for the week and knew I would feel renewed with a good, hard effort.

So I set off.

The goal for the first miles is to run slow and then slow it down some more. While you want the overall effort to be strong, you need to have room to get faster. For me, this usually means around a 10-minute mile. But my watch. It was displaying paces between 10:20 and 12:45. Fine, I guess but surprising. I didn't feel great and I hadn't found my space mentally. The slower time was doing me no favors either.

I had to remind myself to relax, take it easy and smooth out my stride – just as I had that morning when Miles tried to make me a deal: a hug for an extra 10 minutes of TV.

Beep, beep, beep. 9:48.

"Alright, I got this," I thought. I stood a little taller, felt a bit firmer in my foundation. I don't have to give in – to deals, to negative thoughts.

The wind blew at my face, and I gave myself the tiniest bit of snaps for running the front half of my run into the headwind. Even though it was a bit brisk and the leaves were all but gone, it was a beautiful fall day.

Beep, beep, beep. 9:18.

Yikes, I thought. I let that one get away. A controlled 9:30 would have been better. A lower tone in my voice would have been better used in response to the "You're mean" declaration when Rolos were denied. But I had changed my tone, changed my gait. Things had gotten further than anticipated.

I took a deep breath, and reminded myself that I was competent and had the skills to handle it. I was in control.

9:11.

Much better. I had controlled my pace, my reaction. I didn't get excited. I didn't make it worse. I just did it. I had cleaned up the mess – on the run, on the floor of Si's room. I had wiped Miles' tears. We had said our goodbyes on happier terms.

I made a quick turn on the narrow trail and dodged small branches and walnuts that littered the ground beneath my feet. I dropped my shoulders, pulled in my belly. Pulled at my sagging capris. In. Out. In. Out.

8:42

I blew up. It wasn't a flame that I had quickly doused. It wasn't a slip of the tongue. I had lost my control. It stung. Sometimes, no matter how hard I try, I just can't keep it together.

As I headed underneath the bridge and toward the section of path that winds between the river and well-to-do homes, I had a decision to make. I could throw in the towel and just be satisfied with what I had done or I could put my head down and work.

Work. Running, parenting, it's always work. Just when you think you have a handle on it, it surprises you. It makes you think. It forces you to make a choice, for better or worse.

I chose to be better.

8:28.

There's a freedom laced with fear when you lose all control. You don't have to be anything but in the moment.

I was scared that morning. My frustration with the boys had reached a crescendo, the toll of the week wearing me thin. I think I would have thrown them into the car had I not maintained a shred of sanity.

But I didn't think about that in the last mile. I couldn't. All I could focus on was a quick turnover and breaking through. An 8:28 is fast for me. Fast. Beating that, nailing the negative split, would mean sacrificing that sanity I had saved.

And just like the week had caught up with me that morning, the effort and fatigue of the previous 5 miles had caught up with me. At 5.5 miles, with just 800 meters to go, I paused my Soleus and halted to a screech. I took five deep breaths and kept going. I needed to be strong, I could be strong, to the finish.

8:01.

My fastest mile since this time last year. I had come out on top. Despite having trouble staying control, despite being sprayed with poop, despite the name calling of a 4-year-old, I had done OK.

No. Wait. I had done great.