The Marathon

Things that I learned while running the marathon:

1) Labour (without drugs) is way harder than running 42.2 kilometres.

2) Labour (without drugs) still does not prepare you for the pain of running 42.2 kilometres.

3) Running for an hour, or even two, is fun. Running for four hours is not, no matter how many people are cheering or holding banners with ridiculous “motivational” phrases.

4) Running your first marathon while recovering from sickness and still on antibiotics will not result in a personal best. It may, however, result in several unscheduled pit stops.

5) Runners have memories like goldfish. One day after swearing they will never do something so stupid and painful again, they are planning the next one.

6) Accepting a time significantly longer than your goal time is a tough pill to swallow. (However, that pill goes down much easier with generous quantities of red wine.)

7) Pain in retrospect is funny. As in: “When I hit kilometre 40, I could barely move my legs, haha.” Or: “At kilometre 30, I almost threw up, haha.” At the time, these things were not funny. At all.

8) The original runner of the original marathon keeled over and died when he reached his destination. Yes, you read that correctly. He DIED. This should tell us something about the overall insanity of running such a distance.

9) The female body is incredible. A mere two hours after finishing my 42.2 kilometre run (which took me three hours and 59 minutes to complete) I was nursing my son. He was also using me as a salt lick (apparently my shoulder was pretty yummy).

10) I am stronger than I thought I was. I wanted to quit many times, but I didn’t.

So there you go. My marathon is over, I am almost walking like a normal person again, and I suddenly have way more free time than I used to. I didn’t achieve the time that I wanted, but that’s ok. Maybe someday I’ll run another one to redeem myself. Maybe.

But it certainly won’t be anytime soon.

I Get Knocked Down

But I get up again. Oh, do I ever.

This week, I got mastitis, and the timing was impeccable. One week before the biggest race of my life, and I get wiped out by a raging bacterial infection. Fantastic.

I have weathered many things during this first year of my son’s life, but this was one of the worst. Fever, aches, pain, chills… and the agony of not knowing whether I would be able to run the marathon on Sunday.

Now, for some of you, it might seem smarter to skip out on the race. There are other races, you say. Other marathons. Other challenges. The whole thing might not seem like that big of a deal.

But I have been training for this race for nearly a year. Since my son was born, this race has been my reason to run. It has been the reason to get on my treadmill instead of taking a nap, to finish long runs in -20 degrees, and to push myself through brutal interval workouts. I have worked around nap schedules and feeding schedules and husband schedules. I’ve been though twisted ankles, bruised calves, sore joints, stomach cramps, chiropractor bills, and countless Epsom salt baths. And now mastitis.

So when people say “maybe it’s just not in the cards this year” or “there are other races,” I want to cry. Or scream. Because for me, this is it. I don’t want to run another marathon. Other races, sure. But I’m exhausted and I don't want to do this again. After months of training and hundreds of kilometres, the race is the short part. It's a twisted, painful sort of reward for all of my hard work, and I just want it to be over.

So this is it. On Sunday, it’s me versus 42.2 kilometres of pavement. Me versus the clock. Me versus mastitis. Me versus antibiotics.

Me versus me.

It should be an interesting race. I might not finish in my goal time, but I will finish. I’ll want to throw up and I’ll want to cry. I’ll want to stop, give up, and sit down.

But I’ll get up again. Whatever else happens, you can count on that.

Nobody Said It Was Easy

I had my first official Mother’s Day last week. (Last year apparently did not count, because I was “only” pregnant and not “really” a mother yet, according to my dear husband.)

I have always tried to recognize the importance of Mother’s Day, but I’ve never quite appreciated the day’s significance until this year. Nor have I realized how inadequate my flowers or cards have been to thank the woman that gave me life.

Until now. Because until now, I didn’t understand how much it takes to be a good mom. I never realized how tired my mom must have been, working nights and weekends, and then being home during the day to feed us, teach us, and play with us. We just took it for granted that she would always be there.

I didn’t understand how often moms want to run away, sleep, cry, have a moment to themselves, take a long shower, read a book, but don’t – because their kids need them.

I didn’t understand how your entire heart could be walking outside of your body. I didn’t understand how the thought of something happening to your child makes you die a little bit inside. I didn’t understand the ferocity of the mother bear.

Until now.

Now I know that motherhood demands a sort of self-sacrifice that is impossible to understand until you do it. I still don’t fully understand, as I have never parented a toddler, or a teenager. Not yet. But I will never be the person I once was, because now a tiny, helpless human being depends on me for everything, and every choice I make has to take him into consideration. Many people say that kids cramp your style, and this article even claims that children don’t make you happy.

I beg to differ.

After all, no one said it was easy. No one ever told me that being a mom would be a breeze. No one ever said there wouldn’t be sacrifices. No one. So we can’t say we weren’t warned, and we can’t expect a cakewalk. There is sleep deprivation. There are temper tantrums. Nap battles, poop explosions, breast infections, stretch marks… yes, there are all of those things, and some of them are really tough things.

But they all pale in comparison to baby giggles, sloppy kisses, cuddles, and the excited race to the door when I come home. There is nothing like the amazing feeling of teaching this little person skills he will use forever. There is a blissful joy in watching him discover sand, water, birds, and wind. And there is the fact that my husband and I are now closer than ever, because this is the biggest joint endeavour we have ever done.

Finally, there are the nights when I can instantly soothe my panicked and terrified child with just a simple cuddle. That, my friends, is a powerful thing.

Motherhood is not for the selfish. It really isn’t. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything, because nothing worth having is easy. Children included.

As for those people who don’t believe that having kids will make them happy, well, that’s ok. Not everyone was meant to be a parent. But I’m sure glad that my mom took the risk. I’m grateful that she made the sacrifice to be the best parent she could be. And I’m grateful that I’m finally starting to understand it.

Thanks, Mom.

Captain Destructo

Our son appears to be on an unstoppable mission of destruction. Or he is doing his best impression of the Tasmanian Devil.

Either way, he seems intent on wreaking havoc in my house.

We call him “Captain Destructo.”

Although the Captain and I don’t quite speak the same language, my keen observation has deduced that these are the key elements of his mission:

1. If it contains items of any kind, empty it. This includes drawers, laundry baskets, dishwashers, purses, and backpacks. If the laundry basket in question contains folded items, wildly shake each piece of clothing to ensure that it is completely free from containment, then laugh maniacally and throw it onto the floor.

2. If it is a surface with items cluttering the top, clear it. Everything belongs on the floor, thank you very much. This applies to the kitchen table, coffee table, hallway bench, and anything else within reach.

3. If it is a pair of something (shoes, socks, gloves, etc.), divide and conquer. Ensure that the two items never see each other again. This can be achieved by grabbing a sock or shoe and crawling away as fast as possible to hide the item before mommy catches you. (And don't be deceived by his small size. Captain Destructo is fast.)

4. If it looks electronic (remote control, baby monitor, camera, etc.), bang it against the tile floor to test for durability. This test must be done quickly, before mommy intervenes, so slam the item into the floor as hard and fast as possible.

5. If it is paper, rip it, and rip it fast. Mommy will take books and magazines away very quickly, so destruction of any paper items must be done immediately.

6. If it is a plant, rip off the leaves and pull up the dirt, then eat the evidence.

7. If it is a toy, ignore it. These are decoys scattered around by parents to distract babies from the good stuff. Do not be deceived. Go for the phone, CDs, remote controls, power cords, and other obviously awesome things. Toys are for kids who don’t know any better.

8. It is essential to do all these things right after each other, as fast as you can, before mommy knows what hit her. While she is re-folding laundry, go for the CD rack. While she is replacing CDs, attack the coffee table.

9. Finally, don’t ever stop moving, and whatever you do, do not fall asleep. Mommy will clean up everything while you are napping, so resist sleep at all costs. Resist!

Today, the Captain has been very successful in completing his mission. It looks like a bomb went off in my sock drawer. CDs are all over the floor, and one of my magazines lies dismembered in the hallway. I can almost hear his victorious giggles. But mommy won the nap battle, and the house is finally quiet.

We’ll start round two in a few hours.