Kristy Maute

Carry Me Home

Sunday’s Run Plan: 8-10 miles, race stimulation. Miles 1-4 at a 9:15 pace, miles 5-6 at a 9:00 pace, miles 7-8 at a 8:50 pace, miles 9-10 (if I felt good) at sub 8:50 pace.

This weekend was busy. With tons to juggle (picking up Cole half way from Nashville, bringing him home, and Easter), my real objective for running this week was no stress. If I ran five miles, great! Ten miles, great! If I missed it, it wouldn’t impact my next race so no big deal. My coach kept focusing on no stress.

I woke up Sunday morning after hitting snooze a few times at 5:00 am. It was Easter. I wanted to be home when the boys woke up for Easter basket fun. Even closer to my heart was the reminder that today is my aunt’s birthday. Today she would have celebrated her 47th year. I needed to be near the ocean. I needed to see the sunrise.

Sunday’s weather: 50 degrees with 22mph winds coming from the northeast

I didn’t check the weather before I left. I just knew I needed the ocean. I needed the sunrise.

My plan was to run 3.5 miles north along the ocean. I’d then return and added a bridge crossing on to the end of my run and determine if I was running 8 or 10 miles.

The run north was brutal. I quickly left the boardwalk and ran behind the hotels on Atlantic avenue. It didn’t help much. I braced myself, fought the winds hitting me from the northeast, and ran as fast as I could.

The entire time I was running and fighting the wind, I was fighting my emotions too. I’m sick of being sad. I miss my aunt, but she would yell at me for being sad. She would tell me to lighten up. I fought for 3.5 miles.

9:43

9:41

9:35

The half way point was welcomed. Carry me home wind! It was what I was looking forward to the entire first part of the run. When I turned around, pain shot through my left ankle. It stopped me in my tracks. I think I used all the strength in my left side to fight the winds coming off the ocean.

I walked a few blocks to let it calm down. Panic started to creep in. What if I just set myself back to where I was in February? What if all my slow recovery was just tossed out the window? What if, what if, what if?

As I was having all these thoughts, the sky was coming to life. The earth was waking up. I can’t sit in the middle of these what ifs, this sadness, anymore. In the sixteen months since my aunt and Christian’s dad passed away, I’ve learned that life just keeps going. I’ve learned that it’s easier if I smile along the way.

The pain subsided in my ankle, and I ran again.

9:17

By the time I hit the boardwalk again, my ankle was pain free. My heart ache was gone. The wind was literally carrying me home. I quit thinking. I quit analyzing my feelings. I just existed in the moment. I absorbed the beauty of the sunrise. I embraced the push of the wind.

8:15

7:56

7:38

I got back to my car after seven miles. I decided that was enough for today. I wasn’t willing to risk my ankle by fighting the winds again.

Today’s run: 7 miles in 1:01:08, 8:44 pace

I got back to my car feeling new. My legs were tired. My breathing was labored. But I felt brand new. Something happened in the 3.5 mile journey back to my starting point. Something lifted when my brain finally got quiet. For quite possible the first time, I finished my run feeling complete. I was excited or sad or disappointed. I just felt at ease.

The past sixteen months of heart ache, the last few months of injury and recovery, all of it has taught me that I will make it. If I keep putting one foot in front of the other, if I quiet my brain, if I absorb the beauty of our planet, everything is going to be just fine.

Today’s run quietly healed my heart.

I miss my aunt. That will never change. I still cried a few tears in my husband’s arms when I got home. I celebrated her with a coffee followed by a mimosa. I still really miss her, but I’m starting to feel her in the happy spaces instead of the heartache. I’m starting to smile when I think of her.

My heart feels quiet. It feels at ease.

Heart Whispers

I wish I could hug her. I wish I could whisper in her ear that she could do it. I wish I could tell her to listen to the whispers in her heart. Those whispers aren’t secrets. They are your passion desperately trying to guide you down your life path.

When I was 19 years old I moved into my first apartment. I went to school, I worked, I paid my own bills and paid my own bar tab. I thought I had conquered the world. I choose the path that seemed obvious. I did what was expected. I got married, graduated, moved to support my then husband’s passion, got pregnant, and ignored every single whisper in my heart.

I didn’t want a teaching licenses, but it was practical for someone who did want to be a mom. I really wanted to write. I didn’t want to move to Alabama, but it was practical to follow a guy I convinced to love me. I really wanted to pack my things and just keep going. I ignored every single whisper in my heart.

When I was 19 and smitten with a guy from New York City who was on a path to be a pilot, I internalized everything he said. Between classes, working and too many nights at the bar, I’d suggest we’d go for a run. I saw people running all the time and my heart whispered Go Run. I ran track in high school. I should keep running. Let’s run to Town Point Park, I’d suggest. He always responded by saying it was too far away. We would never make it. It was impossible. What I heard was that I was incapable. Why try when I would fail?

Yesterday I parked at Town Point Park for my first run through Norfolk since I moved away over ten years ago. I ran through downtown towards my old neighborhood in Ghent. I ran towards my old apartment thinking there was no way I’d reach my destination. I was only running a 45 minute easy run, and it was an impossible distance away. I arrived in front of my apartment in just two miles. When I looked at my garmin and saw it took me less than twenty minutes to run from the park to my apartment, I was dumbfounded. For 15 years, I have believed that it was an impossible distance. I even believed it as I headed out for my run yesterday.

TWO MILES! TWO FREAKING MILES!

Two miles isn’t impossible now nor was it impossible then. It wasn’t my exhusband who let me believe it was impossible. It was me. I internalized his response. I made it about me. I took his words, and I told myself I was incapable. I chose to ignore that whisper in my heart.

As I made my way back to the park, I smiled. I can’t help but love the 19 year old me. I can’t help but love the path she chose. It’s because of her that today I know that the whispers in my heart can’t be ignored. It’s because of her that I had the courage to rewrite my life story at the age of 26 when I got divorced.

Because of her and a run I had determined I was incapable of running, I now have even more determination to turn those whispers into a roar.

…chase that dream job. Turn your passion into your life

…get to Boston

…show your children that the world is there for them to conquer it

…Love bigger than you ever thought possible

These are the whispers in my heart. These are my truths, and I will chase them. They may not be my final destination, but I won’t stop chasing them because I think it’s impossible. I won’t ignore them because I think I’m incapable.

When I sit across the dinner table from my (second) husband and my children and my eyes sparkle as I talk about my passions, their eyes sparkle back. My husband says Of course you will do it. Cole says I know it will happen. They believe in me as much as I believe in myself.

The best gift I can give myself, my family, and the world is to know I’m capable. The best gift I can give is to honor the tiny whispers in my heart. They aren’t tiny whispers because they want to be ignored. They are tiny whispers because they are my deepest desires and honoring them takes courage. It takes faith. It takes believing that I am capable.

In another ten years, I don’t want to take another trip down memory lane to realize it was only two miles! Two freaking miles!

Sunday Salads: Shaved Asparagus and White Bean Salad

Today felt like the perfect summer day. I slept in and snuggled with Chet all morning. Christian spent the afternoon kayak fishing. I ran this evening. We ran out of hours in our day and ended up eating dinner after 9pm. There is nothing better than living on a summer time clock.

Tonight’s salad was original published in Clean Eating Magazine

Shaved Asparagus and White Bean Salad

INGREDIENTS:

2 bunches fresh asparagus (about 1 lb each)
1 tbsp olive oil
1 medium red onion, thinly sliced
3 1/2 cups cooked cannellini beans or 2 15-oz BPA-free cans cannellini beans, drained and rinsed well
2 tbsp fresh orange juice
2 tbsp fresh lemon juice
1 tbsp champagne vinegar
1/2 cup chopped unsalted walnuts (2 oz), lightly toasted
1/2 cup shaved Pecorino Romano or Parmesan cheese (2 oz)
1/4 cup slivered basil
Sea salt and fresh ground black pepper, to taste

INSTRUCTIONS:

Hold each spear of asparagus by its thick stem and lay it down on a cutting board. Using a vegetable peeler, shave asparagus into long ribbons. Place ribbons in a large bowl and discard remaining stems. (NOTE: You should be left with about 1 lb shaved asparagus.) Drizzle oil over asparagus and toss to coat.

Add onion, beans, orange and lemon juices, and vinegar. Toss to combine.
Fold in walnuts, cheese and basil. Season with salt and pepper. This salad can be served immediately or prepared in advance; chill, covered, for 4 to 6 hours in refrigerator.

Cooking Notes:

Shaving asparagus is time consuming. I had hoped our local store would have thicker asparagus but it didn’t. I also used coconut oil instead of olive oil.

It was the perfect light dinner salad. I will admit, I’m a carb girl. We paired this salad with grilled blackened tuna. It was perfect, but my carb addiction left me craving corn bread or sweet potato fries.

I’ll definitely make this salad again, but I’ll make another side to go with it.

Since I had some room left in my stomach after dinner, I decided it was the perfect reason to indulge in dessert! Ben and Jerry’s Phish Food is my favorite!

Breaking up with Timid

Timid: Lacking self confidence; shy. Fearful and hesitant. Lacking in self assurance, courage or boldness.

This was never a word I would use to describe myself. I’ve always been comfortable in my own skin. I like who I am. I love the roots I’ve created and the life that I live. I like me.

A week ago, when I sat across the table from my running coach discussing race plans and long term goals, he made a comment. He said, “You’re changing. I’ve noticed it in your running and in your writing. Other people have noticed it too. Confidence is creeping in.” I don’t think he realized the magnitude of his words when he said them. I don’t think I felt the impact of his words when I heard them, but they keep echoing in my head. Somehow he exposed a shadow I’ve been living under without ever realizing it.

I am timid.

No matter how comfortable I am in my own skin, it has to translate into the world. I go to parties, and I always feel uncomfortable. At Cole’s school functions, I never feel like myself around other parents. Attending work events with Christian makes me uncomfortable. In situations where I’m surround by people I don’t know, I hide. I am timid. I don’t stand tall and share myself with the world. Instead I’m overly aware that I may not fit in. I’m overly sensitive to the fact that people may not embrace me, my running, my yoga, and my love of nature. I hide.

Not only did my running coach hand deliver me a gift of self-awareness, he also gave me a training plan that was sure to test my confidence. The afternoon after I left our meeting, I ran mile repeats. A mile is a long, long way to run on the edge of your comfort zone. There is a lot of time to doubt, to question, to test your confidence. I almost gave up every single repeat. In my third mile, my hand touched the pause button more times than I can count, but I never pushed the button. It was an internal battle of I can’t and determination. When my watch finally beeped to signify the end of the mile, my hands found my knees. Somewhere in that mile, I left behind the girl who couldn’t. I put a crack in the timid armor I hide behind.

It’s going to take practice. It is going to take many more repeats to rid myself of my timid armor. I may have to fake it until I make it, but I am going to make every effort to honor myself. I’m going to make every effort to share my words, my heart, and my love with the world. It doesn’t matter how much I love who I am if I don’t offer my gifts to other people. Some people may not want to hang out with the girl who finds meaning in everything, they may choose to avoid the mom who ran to school because it was my only opportunity to run that day, they may not want to share a beer with a girl who feels more comfortable surround by trees, but that is okay because that girl is authentically me. The people who do stay, the people who embrace me, are the people who will help me shine.

This morning after a run that was neither measured by distance or time but instead by the ease of my body, I sat on the beach and watched the sunrise. It’s amazing how much light is in the sky before the sun peaks over the horizon, yet we never see the sun. The sky is filled with gorgeous shades of pinks and purples. The moments before the sun rises are long, quiet, peaceful moments, but the sun isn’t shining. When the sun finally emerges, when it final announces that it is here, it only takes minutes to embrace its position in sky.

Maybe it’s because Sunshine has been my nickname my entire life, or maybe it’s because the world really does hold all the life lessons that we need to learn, or maybe it’s both, but today, on the beach, I felt like the sun was telling me it is time to shine. All the light that I hold inside of me means nothing if I hide below the horizon. It’s time to embrace my position in this world.

Cherry Blossom 10-miler, Race Report

Going into this race, I had one thought process: I was kicking timid to the curb. It is time for me to run with “a little swagger” (words of wisdom from my running coach). My goal was to show up on at the start line with a bit of an ego. I need to know it’s my race to run.

My one and only time goal was to break 1:30. I hadn’t thought of any other goals, and since this was just another training run for me, I wasn’t worried having an A, B or C goal. I had one goal, A goal, break 1:30.

All of this should have been easy. I can choose my mindset. My body is ready for faster miles. What I chose not to control going into this race was life. I had two big speed work outs this week since I’m building for the Flying Pirate Half Marathon. Tuesday was mile repeats (7:58, 7:45, 7:25). Thursday was 800 repeats (3:50, 3:42, 3:32, 3:35). It was during these repeats that I decided it was time to break up with timid. On Friday, my family headed to DC for a long weekend of fun capped off by my race.

We arrived at our hotel around 2pm. We immediately headed to the expo, the Museum of Natural History, and the Mall. We walked and walked and walked. Everyone went to bed with tired legs. I went to bed with a blister on my heel. On Saturday we went to the zoo, lunch in DuPont circle and the Lincoln memorial. We walked and walked and walked. All of my walking included carrying a two year old (who just so happened to embrace the terrible twos this weekend!). By the time we went to bed Saturday night, my legs were exhausted.

In the middle of one of Chet’s (many) tantrums, my running coach called. He had last minute advice for my blister (it worked!). He told me to show up and give what I had. Life’s too short to not experience a family weekend in DC. Whatever happened during the race, my weekend had been a success.

When my alarm clock went off on race morning, I rolled out of bed with stiff legs. My inner thighs ached. I was still tired after sharing a bed with Chet. It also just so happened to be the worst day of my period (sorry guys!). I followed my prerace morning routine to the minute. Everything was directing this race down the road to disaster, but I wasn’t willing to follow that path. I was breaking up with timid.

When I arrived at my corral, it was packed. The entrance would have placed me behind the 10 minute mile pacer. I wanted to be with 9 minute mile pacer. I walked along the edge and saw a guy on the outside talking to his wife. I asked if there was an entrance ahead, and after telling me no, he offered to help me over the fence. Over the fence I went. I have honestly never seen so many people in a corral ever. The start was packed. After jumping the fence, I started talking with the man’s wife. She had the exact same goal as me. We said maybe we’d cross paths on the course, and wished each other good luck.

Mile one was crowded. I wasn’t anywhere near my planned pace, but I was stride for stride with my new running friend. We were a good running match and decided to stick together. I sat back thinking the crowds would thin out, and I’d have extra steam at the end.