Refugee Status

I've been sitting in the lobby of the Hampton Inn since 4:30 a.m. Sleeping with two 4-year olds in a double bed didn't work so well for me. But sleeping in a hotel, in general, is never as restful as I'd like it to be. As you might guess by now we're still out of our house. Today we'll return to my in-laws cabin for the weekend and that will be much more "home" like. To complicate our situation one of my dearest friends and her two kids (five and three) came in from California on Wednesday. In addition to that my 15-year-old cousin is here, making her annual 2-week pilgrimage from Texas. So, yes, nine of us displaced at the moment. But having a teenager around through all this to help watch the kids and help me has been a Godsend. And as strange as it is to have house guests without a house, it's been a wonderful distraction. I spent about 5 minutes in our house on Wednesday -- fans were blowing, it smelled, it was dusty, parts of our walls were missing, carpet was pulled up. But I haven't been able to dwell on it because we're off sightseeing and having fun. Everyone leaves by Tuesday. I will have to find ways to continue this attitude of adventure.

But this is a blog about fitness. What does a fit mom with a fit mom blog write about when she's hasn't had a "legitimate" workout in a week? Well, I had to be real with myself about that word, "legitimate." There is a strange perverse acceptance in ticking off the days without a workout. Yesterday I missed my barbell strength class. Today I missed my morning run with Pam. When will it end? Sure, I've spent long stretches without fitness (me not being one of those moms who exercised until the day she delivered), but currently I'm in pretty good shape. I've got a great routine going. I'm feeling stronger than I've ever felt. I've been highly motivated to keep up with my running and strength classes and everything else because I feel so darn good. With each passing day without a workout, though, I feel I'm losing a layer of fitness (although probably not as dramatic as I think). But it's as if I'm watching it go like someone observing a mudslide. There's a little bit of helpless wonder and tragedy from my detached viewpoint. And that's what's odd, I feel a little detached right now. Is that a coping mechanism?

But about that word "legitimate." I spend a lot of time convincing other moms that their activity counts as exercise. I heard from a friend who checked out my blog but reported she didn't workout--she just played competitive tennis once a week. Now why would she think that's not working out? I completely believe that counts toward Mama Sweat status! In those days when I had three kids under two and I couldn't do more than take walks hauling them around the neighborhood, I didn't think of myself "exercising," but looking back on it, of course I was exercising! When it comes to being a fit mom, every little bit counts and we all have to be more forgiving about what "counts."

My friend Tara, who is currently staying with us, is a friend I met about 15 years ago at a cross country race. She was a triathlete, too, and we began training together, among other things common to 20-somethings (I just have to stand back and shake my head at some of those memories). Our last race together was Ironman New Zealand in 2002. We have logged a lot of miles together. She, too, struggles with Mama Sweat issues, compounded by the fact that she runs her own successful business, which requires a lot of travel. She talked about how hard it is to keep up with her fitness, especially when she's on the road. But, if she takes 10 minutes to stretch, or 2o minutes on a treadmill, or 15 minutes for strength work, she feels like she can hold it together until she can return to a better routine. Those 10 minutes help her feel like she doesn't have to "start all over again." It doesn't seem like much, and maybe it doesn't do much physically, but mentally it helps her maintain her fit mama status.

So considering the last week... there was that day at the park when my kids and I worked on our pull ups (I'd fail that Presidential Fitness Challenge I once prided myself on in elementary school). There was the day we walked all over the zoo. Yesterday we had a push up contest in the hotel room (Tara's kids are equally active as mine). All that didn't amount to much but it did amount to something. Now I have to convince myself I that have been working out all week.

Not My Plan

This post, which I planned to write earlier, was supposed to be about preparing to do my first triathlon of the year, or perhaps, let you know how I did in that event. The race was on Sunday. That was the plan. However, on Saturday while the twins were taking tennis lessons and we enjoyed a day at the pool, water from our toilet on the upper level was cascading down onto the floor, into the floor vents and raining down into our living room and continuing down into the basement. Missing that triathlon wasn't the first thing that came to mind as I watched the waterfall from the recessed lighting pour onto our leather sofas. No. Not my first thought, at all. However, one of my thoughts, later that afternoon, was: Thank goodness I did yoga this morning. At least I approached the mayhem from a "centered" position.

The girls, who know that the toilet "exploded," don't seem fazed by the destruction. They thought it was loads of fun to spend the night in a hotel and stay up until 10 p.m. The next morning they got to eat breakfast at a restaurant. And now, because we must be out of our home for at least another few days, we're taking refuge at my in-laws cabin in Wisconsin. This is one of their favorite places, mostly because they can play in the "hide out," sleep in the fun bunk beds (they have bunk beds at home but those aren't fun), swim in the lake and play with their cousin's toys. I will likely play the "Arthur" game 123 times before we leave. 

This week I will not run. I will not bike. I will not make it to Barbell Strength class or Strike. This is one of those temporary imbalances and fitness must fall out of the picture for a bit. That's O.K., it's just a week and while I'm here at the cabin I'm going to enjoy the fun with my girls, make this a positive memory for them. When we return I'll dive into the work of dealing with insurance and repair. I have another triathlon planned for July 5. Do I even dare plan?

Bribery

Ever want to go to the gym but have one or more children protest? "I don't WANT to go to the gym!" My daughter said from her carseat as we were en route. I sort of sprang it on them because I was sure this was the reaction I would get. I knew she wanted to get back home and play with her Barbies, which I had pried her away from earlier that morning to go to vacation bible school. I had promised the twins before we left the house they could get back to Barbies when we got home. And then, under my breath, said "After we go to the gym." No one heard.

It's not that they don't like playing in the gym's childcare center--they do. But this one particular daughter generally likes to be doing whatever she is engaged in at that particular moment and the prospect of doing something else never sounds all that enticing; that is, until she's doing it and then doesn't want to go on to do something else. It's a transition thing, I think I've figured out. To avoid a tantrum, I try really hard to embellish whatever it is we are moving on to do.

So I offered lunch at the cafe, first. "Ohhhhh, how about mac n' cheese? You love mac n' cheese! We can have a special lunch at the gym." She sat grim faced as her sisters shouted, "Yeah, mac n cheese! Mac n cheese!"

"I only like going to the gym if H is going!" H is her best buddy. H is better than mac n cheese. H, is Pam's daughter. Pam would be there at the barbell strength class, but H, I knew had other obligations. 

We were approaching the turn off to go home. I almost threw in the towel. The girls had a busy day yesterday and a busy morning. I knew she needed some down time. But I needed to pump iron. It would easily be 10 days before I could get back to this class if I missed today. I pressed the gas and plowed ahead toward the gym. 

I needed a better enticement to avoid the ensuing tantrum.

"How about when we get home, after the gym... a BIG bowl of chocolate ice cream!"

Through the rearview mirror I saw the corners of her mouth twitch.

"With sprinkles!" I said.

"Yeah! Sprinkles! Sprinkles" All the girls shouted from the back. 

I sighed feeling a little better about my decision.

"And chocolate syrup!" Shouted the dissident.

"Yes, of course! Chocolate syrup, too!" 

The hypocrisy of this exchange was not lost on me. Fit mom, trying to be good role model for children, bribes children with chocolate ice cream (and syrup and sprinkles) in exchange for a trip to the gym.

All I can do is shrug my (buff) shoulders.

From Psycho to Cybil

I went from blogging about not working out to not blogging because I was too busy working out. And I would have whined about that, too, if I had had the time to blog. I'm beginning to sound like one of my 4-year-olds. Since I last blogged/whined I went to my track workout on Wednesday night, Barbell Strength class on Thursday afternoon, my Friday morning run with Pam (which we walked a fair amount of due to the clenched butt muscles from the previous day's work) and went on a bike ride (yes!) Saturday morning. Yesterday the family went to the last stage of the Great River Energy Bike Festival in Stillwater. The girls competed in their first ever bike race (200 yards). The crowd was cheering, the announcer was going crazy, and the kids pedaled like maniacs. They got a medal at the finish, along with water bottles and a free t-shirt (that they wore to bed). I love when my kids get a little taste of what makes me tick and especially when I see it makes them tick, too. After dinner the girls got back on their bikes (wearing their medals) and we all took a walk/ride around the neighborhood. That was my only workout for the day. A slow, leisurely walk with my family. Nothing to whine about there.

 

A Down Day

Yesterday afternoon's slump was beyond the comfort of a bowl of ice cream (I admit to being an emotional eater). I was feeling a little sorry for reasons I can't grasp or even attempt to put into words. Not sure where the mood came from because I was having a perfectly great day. The only palpable bummer was that I couldn't fit in a bike ride on what was a rare, sunny, warm summer day in Minnesota. I had missed riding on Sunday because the afternoon just got away from me. I was fine with that. We were spending wonderful family time at the park and when we got home I decided to keep the momentum going with a nice dinner together. Dinner was so good, in fact, that the girls insisted we have a candle on the table. Fancy. As you know from a previous post, I thoroughly enjoyed my first outside ride of the year just a week ago, so I wasn't lacking for motivation. Yesterday I tried several sitters so I could sneak away for an hour on that fun new route, but it wasn't to be. Then I started feeling kinda cranky about not getting a workout in the last two days. Big deal, right? Normally it isn't, but for some reason I locked on to that as a reason to feel down. Poor me. This morning I'm laughing at my ridiculous emotions. Anyway, that led to feeling overwhelmed with everything on my life's plate. Again, laughable; I've been in the spin cycle with oh, so much more. Wimp. As the girls were eating dinner I thought that if my husband could make it home by 6:30, I would go to the Barbell Strength Class at 6:45. I should have called him, because he needs a little nudging to make it home any earlier than 7. But I didn't. So did I really want to workout? I knew he wouldn't make it home otherwise, but it was as if I wanted something else to make me feel worse, use his not coming home early enough as an excuse for not working out. Could I be more pathetic? Can you say "psycho bitch?" It occurred to me on my run this morning that I should have pulled my bike and trainer onto the driveway. I could have snuck in a "ride" while watching my girls ride their bikes in the front yard. This was a set up I mastered by the end of last summer. I would time the girls laps around the cul d'sac or we'd pretend we were riding our bikes to Texas. Yesterday, that would have been the perfect solution for my need to exercise (physically and mentally). Unfortunately my mind seemed closed to solutions.  Some days are like that. I'm just glad that psycho bitch was gone when I woke up this morning. I'm sure I got even farther away from her on that run this morning, too. Pam has a t-shirt that says, "Running is my Prozac." Isn't it true?

Mama's Gym Bag

I frequent the gym but haven't needed to "get ready" at the gym in quite some time, preferring to dash in and dash out in my all-day fitness wear (check out www.skirtsports.com if you don't own any yourself). But today was my first swim of the year (don't ask, it was awful) and I did need to shower and return to street clothes after. Man was my gym bag unprepared. No brush to smooth out my wily hair while blow drying. No lotion so my skin felt like rice paper. No mascara. That one I survived. Anyway, last fall my gym bag was tricked out with all my needs, and the needs of my children who usually play in the childcare center while I work out. My plan is to go back to being uber prepared. Here's a list of what the perfect gym bag holds. I'm sure there's room for improvement (my gym bag is seriously huge, so there really is room). I'd love to hear your thoughts on what you carry so I can perfect the set up.

For the Sweat

--Extra workout clothes (in case you forget to pack the clothes you need)

--Extra socks

--Swim suit, swim cap, goggles (even if you don't plan to swim, if you forget your sneakers then you're set to workout without a need for shoes)

--Extra heart rate monitor strap, if you have one (or keep HRM packed in bag)

--Extra hat

After the Sweat

Anything you use to get ready in the morning include a copy in your gym bag. I buy travel sizes of certain things, but with my favorites, like moisturizer and make up, I wait until I'm about halfway through using it at home and then toss it in my gym bag and replace my home stash with the new-bought product. And don't forget the brush, if you need one.

General Good Things to Have on Hand

--Baby wipes (do we ever outgrow them?)

--Energy bar or packaged snack

--Gym Card

Stuff for Kids

--Extra diaper(s) if you still need them (or a change of clothes for those who are 99.8 percent potty trained.

--Sunscreen if they're likely to play outdoors while at the gym.

OK, what else? Let me know what your necessities are.

No Fear

On Saturday I went for my first outdoor ride, by myself. I have always been a little reticent to ride because of a teeny tiny fear about getting smacked by a car. Despite that fear, I have managed to finish multiple long rides, mostly in training for the Ironman triathlons I finished, which require being on my bike for 112 miles. Simply put, I just had to face my fear, get over it, and ride. That was all before 2003, before having children. Having children has made me ever more fearful of riding. As a freelance writer I have written several stories about cycling, in particular cycling safety, and know that riding my bike is statistically safer than driving. Still the fear is there. Not enough to stop me altogether, but it rides along with me. I take more spin classes and ride more on my trainer than I ever did before kids, for logistical reasons but also because I hate the thought of something happening to me on the road. I worry about texting teens as much as drunk drivers. Last January, one of the magazines I write for, Women's Adventure, published an article written by Cristina Opdahl called Nurturing Risk. The article isn't online, but it asks the question: Do you scale back the risk for the sake of your children or do you keep doing what you love? I feel like I've scaled down the risks without giving up what I love, still I can't shake the evil foreshadowing that appears before my rides. Of course, that's what was happening Saturday as I was preparing to head out. Plus, I was riding solo, which somehow makes the fear worse. Ever since seeing the CNN story about a drunk driver who crashed into a pack of bikes during a cycling race (right, I shouldn't be allowed to click on such links), I now realize, having another person along with me isn't going to help all that much if something horrible does happen. Anyway all this to say, despite my fear, I managed to get on my bike and ride last Saturday. I did so much mental back and forth I finally got sick of myself for being such a baby and forced myself to go. To my delight, the ride was wonderful. My husband suggested a new route, which was so good it was like a gift. Half was on residential roads and back streets and the other half was on a closed road/trail along the Minnesota River Valley Refuge. How could I have lived here five years and never ventured that way before? I thought I might ride for 30 minutes and I rode for an hour. I was happy I went ahead and did something I thought I didn't want to do. It boosted my confidence for the next ride. There really isn't room in our lives for fear. My kids are certainly good role models for that.