Baby Blues

I have very vivid memories of picking fruit at the U-Pick farms in the East Bay when I was a teenager. My family and I would pick cherries, blueberries and strawberries for ourselves, but also to take back to Hawaii when we visited. One year we took a huge bucketful of cherries to my family, where we sat in the living room eating fruit until our fingers were stained red and our bellies ached.

Because our previous house had a number of flourishing garden beds (thanks to the previous owners), we simply stepped out back to pick blueberries, raspberries and strawberries. My garden beds in our current house aren't as established, so we got the girls in the car and headed to the Eastside for berry picking.

If you get a chance to hit a U-Pick farm near you, do it. Our little people felt a tremendous amount of pride eating what they picked and our oldest daughter now understands just how hard our farmers work.

Ran It!

Me, shouting, "Hey, I'm over here!" at my husband as the race begins.

 The Torchlight Run went well. I was nervous, mostly because I don't usually run with anyone and I wanted to keep up with my running buddy, Pei-Pei. And I know you're supposed to be able to talk easily while you run or you're running too fast (so all the running guides say), but I don't like to talk. When I run I'm focusing on my breathing, or mostly on remembering to breathe.

Breathing is supposed to be the most effortless activity our bodies engage in, right? We do it unconsciously, while we sleep. But I tend to hold my breath. When I was dancer, I held my breath a lot, sometimes coming out of a combination panting like crazy, not sure why. It wasn't until I began pre-natal yoga with my first child that I realized I had to work at breathing. If I remember to start slow, keep an even pace and concentrate on an even breath, my run goes well. It helps my head space, my self confidence, my motivation.

So I didn't want to get caught up in trying to go out fast or impress my running partner during the race. Luckily, because of the number of runners, I didn't have to. We were pretty jammed in between runners, then went straight to a hill. We ran on part of the Torchlight Parade route, which would begin an hour after the race. Families had already gathered, sitting in folding chairs on the sidewalks, cheering us on. Kids high-fived us as we ran past. It was uplifting and inspiring.

The tougher part came while running on Highway 99. It was the second half of the race, so I was getting tired. There weren't any cute kids cheering. We had to run through the Battery Street Tunnel to get to the final block of the race. Steady breathing helped my body, but knowing someone ran beside me helped my morale.

Pei-Pei and I shrieked when we saw the finish line. She asked if I wanted to sprint, but I opted to continue steadily. It felt great to complete my goal: I ran five miles in a race, something I'd never done before. I felt energized, ready to run again.

Red Shirting

Tomorrow is the Torchlight Race, my first entry into a race I plan to run. Road Runner Sports had bibs, timing chips and race shirts available today, so I went down there to ensure I had everything before the butterflies took over tomorrow.

When the woman handed me my race shirt I almost began jumping up and down. Quite tactfully, she pointed to my info packet where it said, "38/F" and asked, "Is this information correct?" I must have wrinkled my brow at her because she went on softly, "I don't want to yell out, 'ARE YOU 38?'"
"Oh, yes, that's correct," I answered.
She pointed to her gray hair, "Because when you're 50, then we'll talk."
I found that inspiring and said, "Well, I hope I'm still doing this at 50!"

I worked out a bit harder over the weekend, but took it easy this week to give my body a rest for the race. Since I was nursing a hamstring strain, I didn't want to go crazy beforehand.
Next on my training regimen: Chocolate chip pancake carbo load tomorrow morning!

The Race to the free Clif Bars

I went to a training run tonight sponsored by Super Jock n Jill to prepare for the Torchlight Race. There will be one a week until the race on July 31st, so I thought I'd check out this first one. It's my first race, so I have no idea what sort of perks go with registration.

It was held at Green Lake, a familiar and favorite spot, but since it was in the evening and I'm used to getting to to the park in the morning, I was not prepared for the crazy amount of people and traffic clogging every arterial. This is Seattle after all, and when the sun comes out, so do the people. Needless to say, I was 10 minutes late despite my best efforts.

Facilitators told me the group had "just left." I saw them up ahead as I forgot about my one-song-walking-warm-up and tried to push forward, on the off chance that the group took a breather and I could join them. I could see them, a few wearing dark green shirts from the recent Rock 'n Roll Marathon. It became an amazing incentive when I began to get hot and tired. Deep down I knew I would never catch up to them, but I kept thinking, "Maybe....maybe...."

I didn't catch up to them on the running loop. But at the meeting spot organizers had put out Clif bars and Talking Rain drinks. There was a raffle (for some pretty good gift certificates, shoes, gear) and just happy endorfin riders all around. Even though I was a bit behind and outside of the group, I felt closer to being a "runner" than before. And guess what? I even decreased my time!

I'm coming for you, Torchlight!

Getting the Digits

Remember when my husband brought home a scale? Well, I didn't mention before that he's also monitoring his caloric intake, keeping an Excel spreadsheet and looking at online options to help improve his physical fitness.

I think improving one's physical fitness is admirable. I admire him. He is fit.

But I still want to weigh less than him. Even if it's just a pound or two.

When he shows me a new gadget or tracking system, I do the kindly, "That's nice, honey," and turn in a wifely way to the dishes in the sink or the brownies that need to come out of the oven. But now that I'm running more, and will begin to cross train on my non-running days (yes, I just found out what a 'burpee' is), I've been doing some physical fitness monitoring of my own.

The first, is keeping a running log. I started writing down the distances of my runs -- now that I think about it, I should probably be writing down the times --  how they went (easy, tough start but went okay, had to walk, etc.). While browsing around online, I came across the fitbit. I love the idea of tracking your rest as well as your activity. I know I don't get enough rest, but a constant reminder might be a good motivator to even the stats out. I also like that it tracks moderate activity, not just calories burned or mileage, but the activities that parent might engage in that could count as 'staying active.' Like playground time, or chasing a ball together, or hula hooping.

After surfing around the site, I realized hubby had shown me the fitbit months back. I'm not sure if I was doing dishes or eating brownies at the time, but I'm pretty sure I nodded. Now I want it. Maybe if I suggest his and hers...

It Keeps You Runnin'

 It's confession time: I haven't gone running in almost two weeks.

Life happens. Relatives visit, the end of school ushers in the beginning of summer, the two-year-old refuses to sleep between 2 and 4 a.m., lice, all of these issues can put a damper on anyone's training schedule, right?

If I were one of the super-moms in the book I'm reading, "Run Like a Mother," I would be running early in the morning or pushing my toddler in the stroller while my older daughter rides her bike--or whatever it is that fit moms do to log miles and stay in shape.

I haven't graduated from Mommy Fit Club yet, but judging by my run yesterday, I still might get the chance. I began early in the morning by walking. It's not my best time of day for anything. I convinced myself that walking at my favorite running spot is better than moping around at home, not running at all. Two weeks may not seem like a long period of time, but even a few inactive days can take the physical progress you've gained back to zero.

The walking warmed me up and got me loose. Tying my windbreaker around my waist, I broke into a slow jog. I probably spent a mile and-a-half struggling: my breathing was uneven, my shirt kept riding up and my windbreaker falling down. It was just messy.

I'm not sure when it happened, but at some point my breathing found an even rhythm. I barely noticed my clothing. I started to feel good. On the paved path someone had marked the miles in chalk. As I passed a marker, I thought, "That was okay. I could probably run another," continuing on to the next chalk line. As I passed the lamp post where I started out, I thought, "I'll just go to the next line," and I ran on, breathing, pumping my arms, fueled by Black Eyed Peas' "Pump It." I recognized oncoming runners, from the intense guy with the 'Portland Marathon' shirt to the older woman with the "Danskin Triathlon" shirt. In "Run Like a Mother," the authors mention the race shirt as a means of motivation for finishing a race, and I really did want mine at that point.

Following those chalk-marked miles, I made it around Green Lake twice. Twice! Granted, I did walk the first ten minutes, but I completed more than five miles, which is what I'll need to do for the race I'm entered in at the end of the month. I was elated. Even with a bad start and a chubby-schlubby attitude, I could turn it around.

My body is a bit creaky today, but otherwise, I feel good. I feel like doing it again.

Watch out, Torchlight! Here I come!

Daring to Return

You know my adoration for the movie, "Xanadu." So you understand my complete giddy delight upon seeing the latest video from the band, Rooney.

I was up at a ridiculous hour due to a sleepless night minding the two-year-old. From the first frame, where they showcase the exterior of the club that becomes "Xanadu," (formerly the Pan-Pacific Auditorium in Los Angeles),  I knew this video would cheer me up. Just a little somethin' to hold you over until the "Grease Sing-along" comes your way.