Kristy Maute

Grow into it.

Grow into it.

These words have echoed in my head for a month now. Sometimes I hold them closely to my heart. Sometimes I whisper them out loud. Sometimes they are the roots that keep me from crumbling. Other times they are the stars that keep me dreaming. These words have become my mantra.

Grow into it.

On my first day at Operation Smile I was greeted with the warmest welcome. As I introduced myself to people and told them the role I was taking on in the organization, I started to hear a trend in people’s responses. My job is a big piece of the puzzle. In that same week I stared at a spreadsheet with 840 line items. It is the template that serves as a packing list for every mission. Every single item that is needed to create an operating room in remote parts of the world is on that template. I need to know it all. As I read and organized and compared the template to catalogues from medical suppliers, my head spun. I was using parts of my brain that had collected dust for years. I dreamt about sutures and anesthesia medication. It all become a puddle of muddy knowledge.

Grow into it.

Summer is here in Virginia. When I set out for a six mile progression run in the middle of the afternoon on Saturday, I knew the heat and the paces would challenge me. I knew it would be a hard run. 9:00, 8:40, 8:30. These were my goal paces. At the turn around point, I wanted to give in. It was too hot. My body hates summer running. My legs wanted to run, but my head was spinning. On the route back to my car, I turned my run into a game. I used land markers to tackle sections of the run. I focused on keeping my hips under me (instead of in front of me where they naturally like to land). I focused on my foot placement and my stride. The first five miles were challenging, but being able to run a 7:58 minute mile for my last mile gives me hope.

Grow into it.

Chet has started school two days a week. Today is his third day. I’ve worried it would be too much. I’ve wondered if the day would be too long. Was he happy? Was he missing me? I’ve cried at every drop off. I count down the minutes until the end of the day, and I squeeze him way too tight when I see him. He adjusted well, but he is still adjusting. His sleep patterns are a mess. His nose won’t stop running (hello daycare germs). For all the sniffles he’s brought home, he’s brought home ten times the happy stories. He talks about his teacher, his blocks, playing outside, taking a nap. He’s happy.

Grow into it.

On Sunday our family started a new adventure. Instead of talking about it, we decided to do it. We planted a backyard garden. We’ve started small to test out the sunlight and the containers. We’ve planted herbs, tomatoes, and bell peppers. Once we find the right combination for our yard, we will add squash and zucchini. We will plant carrots and cucumbers. Beans are a must for the fall. The boys need sunflowers to run around. We don’t know what we are doing in our garden. We’ve planted the vegetables. We hope they will grow, but they will never grow, we will never eat out of our own backyard, if we don’t plant something.

Grow into it.

Chet fell asleep early Sunday night. Cole was content playing. I sat on the couch enjoying the quiet. It’s been a month since I turned our world upside down by chasing my dream job. For every new change, new layer, new obstacle we’ve encountered, I knew there was only way to approach the situation. I can’t panic and resist the change. I have to grow into it. The really good stuff in life shouldn’t feel comfortable from the beginning. The really amazing stuff exists in the spaces when we challenge ourselves and when we stir up our normal. The things that are worth it require growth.

I don’t know everything about my job. I will learn it. I am not running my goal pace. I will get there. Chet isn’t used to going to school twice a week. It will become his normal. We are all like the garden we planted this weekend. Inside each one of us is a seed that is willing to grow. When nourished, when rooted in love, amazing things can blossom.

“When tended the right way, beauty multiplies.” ~Shannon Weirsbitzky

Grow into it!

Sunday Salad: Bacon Lime Sweet Potato Salad

I knew exactly what I would make when we made dinner plans with friends. I’m a bit obsessed with sweet potatoes lately, so when this recipe popped up in my news feed I knew I had to make it.

(Paleo) Bacon Lime Sweet Potato Salad

The website Empowered Sustenance is full of delicious, good for you recipes. This one didn’t disappoint. It was quickly devoured by everyone. The small serving that we had left, we added to our scrambled eggs with avocado this morning for an amazing breakfast at home Head over to her blog to the recipe and instructions. It is worth the extra click! (click here.)

Note: I double the recipe to serve 8 adults.

Breathing Room, May Edition

May was a whirlwind. It was the closing of one chapter of life, and the beginning of a new chapter. It was a fresh start. May was a month of validation on so many levels.

The month began with a weekend getaway to the Outer Banks of North Carolina. I ran a race and didn’t come anywhere near my goal time.

Validation: I love running even when it goes bad. Life is happy even when a races takes a wrong turn. Not achieving a goal doesn’t make it a success or a failure. It is in the stumbles along the way that strengthen commitment and motivation.

I started a new job with a company that is so closely aligned with my own personal values.

Validation: What I do matters. What I believe matters. Happiness in a job matters. This job has brought so much life back to my world.

Through all the changes, our home life didn’t falter. Dinners weren’t missed. Quality time with the boys wasn’t forgotten.

Validation: I don’t have to sacrifice myself to be a good mother. In fact, I’d argue I’ve been a more engaged mother since I became more engaged at work.

May reinforced that change and chaos aren’t something to be afraid of. They are meant to be embraced. Making the best of every situation is what matters.

Open

Round and round we ran: 800 repeats on Tuesday evening. It was my first speed workout in a month. My legs weren’t used to the request to go faster. My hips held on tight. Speed work felt foreign. The mental stubbornness to not give in didn’t come naturally. It was an exercise at quieting my brain instead of pushing my body.

This run would have never been a success if I was running solo. My brain’s natural response to pushing my limits on a hot summer night with humidity hanging in the air is to quit. My brain would have won if I wasn’t surrounded by friends who silenced my head. My support system held on for me. I chased them. Stay with them. Stay with them. Hold on.

It was during the fourth 800 that my friend Bridgette said to me, “Open up.” She was offering words of encouragement to help pull me forward. Her words were simple yet they spotlighted my struggle for the season. I had reverted back to old habits. I wasn’t trusting my body. I wasn’t opening my stride. I was timid. I was ridged. I was closed in and guarded. The tightness in my hips was a reflection of my lack of trust in my body. They are a reflection of my lack of trust in myself.

Timidness. Lack of trust. My protective barrier. It creeps in whenever I lose my awareness of myself.

The last month has been full of change. It’s capitulated me out of my comfort zone in the most amazing way. Yet I’ve apprehensively approached the shift in my daily schedule with fear that it would negatively impact it my family. It hasn’t. I’ve worried that my boys would feel my absences in the one hour I’m now missing in the evening while losing sight that they gained that hour in the morning hours. My new job is stretching me. It’s allowing me to expand into my potential. This is what my boys will feel. At the end of the day, I am full. This is what I want my boys to witness. This is what I want them to learn.

“We have all a better guide in ourselves, if we would attend to it, than any other person can be.” ~Jane Austen

I know exactly what I need. Open Heart. Open Stride. These were the words that carried me through 26.2 miles last November. These are the words that carried through a hugely emotional time of my life. Those are the words I’m going to hold on to right now.

I’m bringing my awareness back to myself. I’m trusting the vulnerable spaces of new, the spaces of the unknown, the spaces out of my comfort zone. I’m opening back up. My heart, those tiny whispers I’ve learned to hear, know exactly where I belong. It’s running that allows me to hear them. It’s running that gives me the gift of knowing who I am. Now I have to learn to trust it and to grow into it.

Elizabeth River Run 10k Race Report

The past two weeks I’ve done very little running. This was intentional. I wanted to give my head and my body a chance to adapt to all the changes that come with starting a new job. I knew when I lined up on the start line with a few close friends on Saturday morning, I wasn’t in race condition. I’m no where close to my peak condition. My race plan was simple: have fun.

I could have run the race in cruise control, but running solo has lost its appeal lately. I wanted to run with my friends who are also fast and also in great running condition. I’d hang on as long as I could.

Part of my race plan was to also run without my garmin. Numbers didn’t matter for this race. As I left for the race, I grabbed it anyway. What if I had a great race and wanted to know my times?

Damn Ryan (my running coach). He rigged my watch.

I never got a connection during the race. There was no cheating on my race plan.

At the Start (photo credit: @thefitpetite)

I hung with my friends until just past the three mile marker. My hips were tired. They didn’t want to open up. I wasn’t having fun anymore. I let them slowly slip away, and I took in the gorgeous views on the race course: historic downtown and riverfront streets.

Around mile 4.5, I remembered why running solo (on a crappy run day) isn’t fun anymore. Maybe I should have fought to hold on instead of giving up? I had settled into cruise control mode, and I was now running solo. Just when I started to think this is not fun. Running slow and solo sucks. a smiling face was waiting for me on the side of the road. Jess, The Fit Petite, was waiting for me. We start the race together. We finish the race together. I could have hugged her, but I was tired at this point.

Being rejoined by a friend on the course gave me an extra boost of energy. I may have mumbled and grumbled that I didn’t feel like going faster, I’m pretty sure I speed up significantly when she joined me.

My finish time: 58:25. Five minutes slower than my PR, but significantly faster than a fun (lazy, crappy) run a year ago. ( read my report from Elizabeth River Run in 2012)

The race was exactly what I needed. Racing slow isn’t fun anymore. I’m ready to pick back up my training plan to get myself out of my comfort zone. The day was also filled with lessons of trust but I’ll save that thought process for another post.

Always learning. Always growing. Always smiling. It’s the only requirement I have for myself.