Confession time

I've been doing a lot of feet dragging with this one. Now as I write this, I feel like I'm on one of those dunk tanks. With this confession I've just handed you a ball that you can throw at me as I sit here, waiting for my self-inflicted punishment. But before you throw, I ask for mercy. Remember, we are all flawed in some way...

Let me give you a prelude to this confessional. Rachel is an old college friend of mine living in WI who has been begging me to do a tri with her. Now Rachel has done a triathlon or two in her day and is in fact training for a half ironman triathlon as we speak. That's a mere 1.2 mile swim, a 56 mile bike, and a 13.1 mile run. A sprint triathlon would be child's play to her. All I can say to that is WOW. Obviously she's on a slightly different athletic level than me. Which is fine.

Except that it isn't. For reasons which I will discuss shortly, I seem to have a problem accepting that there are people out there who are better at things than me, which is sheer foolishness, I know. I do not want to do a triathlon with my dear friend Rachel because she would do better than me. And my fragile little ego can not handle that. So, knowing that Rachel would jump at the opportunity to participate with me in a Wisconsin triathlon, I purposely omitted mentioning to her that I was training for one. Apparently I'd rather protect my self-esteem than see a good friend whom I haven't seen since my wedding almost six years ago.

And here is where the sin part comes in, for this episode clearly points to the pride that lurks in my heart. Proverbs 29:23 says that "A man's pride brings him low" and I've certainly proven that to be true. Pride comes in all sorts of ugly shapes and sizes, but with me it often comes in the form of insecurity. Because I feel like my athleticism is a unique aspect of who I am, I am frightened by the idea of someone outperforming me, for if they did, then what would I have left? My pride would be shattered.

Now that's an ugly way to live. I want humility. And I want it without having to sit on a dunk tank, openly confessing my sin of pride on a blog. That is, I want to be secure enough with myself to be able to retain my self-worth regardless of the circumstances that arise. This true security is found in God alone. Recently I read that "confidence is driven by the certainty of God-given identity and the conviction that nothing can take that identity away (Moore, 2010)". Our God is great, and He is the same today as He was tomorrow and as He will be. As a child of his who was created in his image, I too am capable of great things through the power of God. Apart from Him, anything I do is self-serving or fruitless.

Whew. It's tough admitting our sins. But doing so is a relief, and it's cleansing. And it's what God calls us to do. So Rachel, the first ball goes to you. I'm sorry for being a jerk. It would be an honor to do a triathlon with a pro like yourself, even if you make me look like an amateur, because (surprise, Sara!) that's what I am. Wow that water feels good!

(Quote is from Beth Moore's So Long, Insecurity, 2010)

Happy Father's Day, Dad!

I do not have the pleasure of seeing my dad on Father's Day due to the 1,000 mile span between us. Thus, as today was the day we set aside for dads, I placed the perfunctory call home to wish him a good one. After we got the pleasantries out of the way, our talk fell on to running shoes.

There are few people in my life with whom I can discuss running shoes. For a runner, getting a new pair of shoes that will carry you over distances yet untraveled is an exciting event. But the non-runners among us really couldn't care less about the springiness of your new shoes, the breathability, the design, etc. So the fact that my dad and I were able to have an informed discussion about footwear, a topic we're both interested in, is a delight to me. And it is certainly a new development.

My dad is training for the same triathlon that I am. He's actually the one who inspired me to take up the sport to begin with. When my mom told me he was tossing the idea around, I was impressed. My dad bikes around the town my parents live in and swims up at his beloved cabin in the North Woods. A runner, though, he is not. So to consider competing in a triathlon is definitely a stretch for him.

But for whatever reason, my pops decided that he was going to do this thing, and he is committed. And I am both impressed and proud of him. Regardless of how he does in the race, or whether he is even able to participate in it, it takes incredible courage to go outside one's comfort zone and take up a brand new activity. Yet, at 50+ years of age, he has done just that and has greatly inspired me in the process. It goes to show that, with a little guts, motivation and effort, you can strive to redefine yourself at any age.

I am like my dad in many ways. We are both emotional people but are somewhat guarded with our feelings. Small talk doesn't come easily to us (or at least not to me) and the fact that neither one of us is a big phone person has put some distance between us. But training for this triathlon has given us some common ground. Even though we aren't training together, my thoughts often gravitate toward him during my runs or bikerides. I am so excited to hang out with him before the start of the race, our adrenaline pumping as we wait for the chance to do this thing that we've been preparing for all this time. This triathlon has deepened our relationship. And it's caused me to see my dad in a whole new light.

Dad, you are an amazing man, and I consider this venture that you undertook to be just another example of your grit and strength. I thank you, Dad, for yet again doing what you've been doing your whole life--for teaching me to challenge myself, to believe in myself, and to be true to myself. I love you and am so blessed to have you as my dad. Happy Father's Day!

To the creators of running skirts...

I'll admit it: I tried your product today. (only because I found them at the low, low price of $2.50.) And I have to say--really? and Why? and What the heck?

I've seen these on other women joggers in the past and admit to being intrigued. They look, well, I'm not sure if "cute" is the word, but "different" than your ordinary plain-Jane running shorts, and I guess there are those of us who want to stand out. I'm not one of this breed, but like I said, I can not pass up on a deal. So on the running shorts went for my morning 5-miler.

The shorts are modest--the skirt fell only a few inches above my knees while standing. There is a convenient pair of spandex shorts sewn into them in the event you are running some sort of high knees drill and end up flashing a bit more than you'd prefer. The material--comfortable; definitely a light running fabric. The color--a muted navy blue with a white stripe running down the side. The skirt went well with a running top I own. Feeling highly color coordinated, I strapped my shoes on and hit the road.

My first thought was, "I feel like such an idiot." This was supposed to be a sweat session, and here I was running in a skirt, for gosh's sake. Talk about drawing unwanted attention to one's self. In my mind I might as well been running in a cheer leading uniform. Secondly, it was hot. I was, after all, wearing two layers of clothing over my midsection when one would have easily sufficed. And then there was the problem of ride-up. As in, the skirt kept riding up once I started sweating, therefore putting me in the awkward position of having to pull down my skirt while running.

My dear athletic designers, these last words should never have to be uttered. As women, we have enough to deal with when it comes to clothing and what to wear and how to wear it. Being a moderately conservative Christian woman, I live in the constant fear of walking out of the house looking inappropriate, flashing a little too much leg or showing a bit too much cleavage. My jogs should give me temporary reprieve from this: running should be the only time when I don't have to worry about what I look like, when looking sweaty and disheveled is expected. In no uncertain terms do I want to spend even a second of my workout worrying that the high school kid waiting for the bus might be getting an eyeful because of an unwieldy skirt.

I know you market people, though. You are always looking for ways to sell more. When it seems as though there can be nothing new left to sell in your corner of the market, you invent something new and market it as the latest "must have". In this case, you decided to tap in to those women among us who want to differentiate themselves from the men, who feel the need to celebrate their femininity in their workouts. So you created these preposterous skirts and now they are aired in the women's section of running stores for all to buy.

Now, I have nothing against the desire to celebrate the fact that women are different than men. I completely agree with this and love the fact that it is us women who cry together over commercials, coo over newborns, and are the better multitaskers. I do find it ironic, though, that in certain areas of life women demand to be treated the same as men, and in others we find it necessary to separate ourselves. For decades women have fought for equal rights, equal salaries, equal roles in the home. But now when it comes to running we need to be treated differently And we want you to remember this fact so we're going to don a skirt. Ridiculous.

In closing, I thank you for acknowledging that women make up a large percentage of your market base and catering to us in this way. In the future, however, I urge you to stick with shorts. And if you want to give us ladies something a bit more feminine, I suggest changing the hue of the shorts. I hear pink and purple are popular colors for the female consumer.

Hello, self, are you still there?

What does your morning look like? Mine looks something like this: Get up. Let the dog out. Get the bottle ready. Get dressed. Dress Boy #1. Dress Boy #2. Prepare breakfast for #1. Prepare breakfast for #2. Dish out breakfast for the dog. Clean up #1 after his breakfast. Feed #2. Scarf down my own breakfast. Clean up #2. Give #2 his bottle. Change #1's diaper. Get #1's shoes. Put them on. Get #2's hat. Put it on. Put #1 and #2 in stroller. Put #2's hat back on. Start to go for a walk. Go back into the house to get #1's car. Put #2's hat back on. Resume walk. Clean up after the dog. Put #2's hat back on. Get home. Get #2's second bottle. Change #2's diaper. Get #1's morning drink and snack. Again get #1's shoes and put them on. Put #2 in his car seat. Put #1 in his car seat. Go back in the house to get #1's blankie. Finally we are ready to leave. And it is only 10 in the morning.

As a mother of small children, it is far too easy to lose sight of yourself in the midst of all that is demanded of you. From the moment they wake up to the time they go to sleep, my youngters depend on me for EVERYTHING. Food. Drink. Cleanliness. Clothing. Entertainment. Safety. Toys. Socialization. Love. As a result, there are few, if any, moments in the day that can be claimed as my own. What time I do have comes at the end of the day, at which point I'm usually so spent that the only activity I can muster comes in the form of laying prone on the couch in front of the TV.

As comforting as watching the boob tube might be, this mind-numbing pasttime is not what I need. No, I need something else. A hobby, if you will. Something that I do intentionally because of the enjoyment it gives me and also because in so doing I feel a little bit more like me. By choosing to participate in this pasttime I am reminded that although a huge part of my identity comes from my role as a mother, it is not the only part. I have interests outside of my children. I've found that this is not only healthy, but necessary if I am to be the type of mom I want to be.

And so I run. And I bike. And I swim. I train for marathons. And triathlons. I set goals for myself that are completely outside the realm of motherhood, selfish goals that benefit me and me only. I carve out time each day to work toward these physical objectives of mine. These blocks of exercise are my happy places, my times of zen when I am able to reconnect with Sara the woman, not Sara the mother. And in doing so I can return to my role as mother, more confident in my ability to handle what the day throws at me, more willing to pour myself out
now that I have been filled up in this way.

So I didn't give you a complete picture of what my morning looks like. All that stuff happens, yes. What I failed to mention is that after waking up I work out. Then, when I am taken care of, I get on with the business of being a mother.

A Farewell to Laps

I am an introvert, which is one of the reasons I gravitate to the "silent sports" of running, biking, and swimming. Not only that, but I don't enjoy having my workouts interrupted. So when Anne, the elderly woman I sometimes share a lane with at the pool, started up a conversation as I was swimming laps, I was initially peeved. (It was also a good reminder that I really need to learn those cool underwater flips when I switch directions. That way no one will mistakenly think that I'm making eye contact with them and thus welcoming a conversation.) I like Anne, though. She is sweet and sassy, a complimentary pair of characteristics for an older lady to have, in my opinion. Besides, the place I swim with is overrun with senior citizens and you definitely want to stay on their good side or they may gang up against you and then who knows what perils you may face. So I took off my goggles and gave her my best listening ear.

Anne informed me that the pool was changing it's hours of operation beginning in July. From then on, it will no longer be open Tuesdays and Thursdays. Now the pool I swim at is run by the city's parks and rec department. It cost $10 to join. Not $10 a month. $10 a YEAR. And that $10 gives you access to all the park and rec pools in the city as well as the community centers. My pool is ordinarily open six days a week. And now it will only be open for four. Not only that, but the days in which it is open will inevitably be more crowded as people are forced to adapt to the new schedule. There will be more sharing of lanes, more splashing, more geriatric folk. I might as well swim in the bay.

Now the reason for this calamity is due to the deflated economy and the trickle-down effect that it's having on states and cities across the nation. Our fair city and all those around us have been facing severe budget cuts--schools are laying off employees, police departments are cutting back, libraries are closing. And my pool will no longer be open on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Now really, how much is this going to save the city? There are at best two life guards on duty during lap swim and one in the office. How much are they paying those guards anyway? It can't be too much, or you'd think they'd take their jobs a little more seriously and use that time to actually pay attention to the swimmers rather than sleep in their chairs. Is it the cost of water that is a problem? Perhaps they should limit the time spent in the shower to three pushes of the button, rather than the unlimited number of pushes we take for granted now. Or maybe they should increase the ridiculously low park and rec fee to, I don't know, $15? $20? I'd be willing to pay more if it would help keep the pool doors open.

So Anne got me all worked up, which helps when you are exercising. Nothing like a little adrenaline to motivate you to go faster. But as I was swimming down my lane, a startling realization came to me. To my very limited knowledge, this pool closing is the most direct way I've been affected by the recession. My husband still has his job and actually just got a raise. The neighborhood isn't being hit by waves of crime now that there are fewer police on the beat. My children are not in school yet, so they don't have to worry about larger class sizes. My dad's hours were drastically cut at work, but they've bounced back now and to my knowledge he and my mom are doing well. Obviously there are probably many ways I've been affected that just aren't as overt, but I have to be honest: my family has been extremely blessed. Again. Thank you, God, for the comfortable life we live.

By the way, Anne will be fine, too. She's a retired senior with all the time in the world to go to the pool across town, which she does now anyway. She just wanted me to know.

Two steps forward...

...one step back. Just when I think I am making progress in the character development area, some minor event comes along that sends me reeling and reminds me how pathetic I am apart from God. Consider the events that transpired this morning...

My husband decided that he is going to jump on my bandwagon and start running in the morning before the boys wake up. I know I should applaud his efforts at fitness, but a part of me actually resents this. I love working out in the morning. I love the discipline that it requires to leave the comfort of that soft quiet bed, slip on some running shoes and head out the door. I love the better-than-coffee high that it gives me for at least 2 hours post-workout. And (this may seem silly, but when you have young kids it really isn't) I love being able to shower and put on make-up following a sweat session, knowing that in a sense I EARNED that shower and can now go out and face the world looking and feeling put-together. So I view his taking over my mornings as an infringement on MY time to exercise, which it is, but really, do I own that time slot? I act like I'm the one who invented a.m. workouts.

Cerebrally I know these things but it often takes awhile to convince my slow-to-come-around self that sharing is good. Regardless, we've worked out an alternating morning schedule and today was his morning to run while I stay at home. I've decided that doing turbo kick during this time frame--while not as good as training for the tri--has it's benefits, so while he's running in the surf I'm kicking and punching with some blonde lady who shakes her pelvis WAY too much for 6:00 in the morning.

When my alarm went off this morning, I got up, used the bathroom, dressed, and went into the office to retrieve the turbo kick DVD that I had left by the computer--the one that on this morning was not there. With a sinking heart I realized that Kevin moved the DVD during one of his organizing sprees (I love my husband dearly but he has a chronic organizing problem. On more than one occasion he has moved one of my commonly used items to a new place and I spend 30 minutes searching for it, growing more and more mad at his obvious addiction). I searched every place I could think of but could not find the missing disk. I thought about returning to bed but knew that I wouldn't be able to fall back to sleep for 30 minutes, so I used the time to write out my eldest son's bday invites.

And I fumed. I fumed because he had possibly thrown out a DVD that wasn't even mine (I'm borrowing it from a friend) due to one of his organizing episodes. I fumed because I had wasted all that time trying to find it when I could have been working out or sleeping in, something I RARELY do. I fumed because now I had to make the difficult transition to the morning without my exercise aid. And I fumed because I didn't get my way: I wanted to do turbo kick but was forced to do something else.

When he came back I tersely inquired about the DVD, which he located and apologized for. Groggily I dressed the kids and gave them breakfast, all the while feeling sorry for myself and doing my best to ignore Kevin, who was whistling and skipping around, in a great mood because of his run. He asked if we wanted to meet for lunch, to which I replied "Yes, if you don't misplace my car keys too."

Yuck. What a start to the day. It wasn't yet 8:00 and I had managed to subject my husband to an ugly side of me that should never come out, and for what? A missing DVD.

What is going on here? Was the real issue aDVD? Obviously, it wasn't. In retrospect, the root of the issue is that I did not get my way, and because of that I reacted like my two year old would have. Which surprised me. Life has been going pretty well for me lately. I feel good about things, something I wouldn't have said five months ago when Ben was in his difficult stage and I was tied to him night and day. Now I feel as if I'm floating down one of those lazy river things, enjoying the scenery and the sun. But who isn't content in those things? It's easy to have a positive attitude about life when it's going your way. What happens, though, when you are relaxing on your tube and you get sprayed in the face with a little water? Irritation. Take that to the next level and imagine going over a surprise waterfall. What?! This is the Lazy River ride--I did not sign up for waterfalls! These curve balls that life throws are the real tests and they are going to happen. All. The. Time. How we react serves as a sort of litmus test to reveal where we truly are. The fact that I lost it over such a trivial issue as a DVD is an all too vivid reminder of how far I have to go.