Kristy Maute

Enjoying the now! Somehow I forgot…

All around me, I keep seeing it. My instagram is filled with inspiration to get over it. I’m seeing it in my own child. I’m feeling it in my runs. It’s coming up in conversations. It seems to be my driving force since I set out on this quest to run marathon #2.

Fear, or the act of overcoming it.

Seriously, I see it everywhere.

My long runs have now shifted to Sunday mornings. I’m no longer running when I want, how I want, or by myself. This weekend I met my running coach for my long run. I started the run with another one of his runners who is also training for a fall marathon. She is a much stronger runner than me, so we did our two-mile warm up together before she took off down the trail.

Saturday night I couldn’t sleep. I had “first day of school” jitters. When you run with your coach, a group of people or a friend, there is no hiding. There is no room for self-doubt, fear, or other self-imposed nonsense. Knowing I’ve been plagued by all three lately added another level of fear to Sunday’s run. What was I afraid of? Maybe that I wasn’t capable of hanging with the fast crowd or maybe that I wasn’t ready for real training. Maybe I was afraid that I didn’t have the mental toughness required to get down the long, boring, straight Cape Henry Trail? Maybe I’m not ready for the marathon?

Whatever it was, it is all self-induced. I have to fight my way through it.

Sunday afternoon the family packed up the beach cart and headed to Sandbridge. Body Boards, the Beater, buckets, shovels, beach chairs, towels, and lunches were placed like puzzle pieces for the walk through the sand. When we arrived, the waves were small but picture perfect. It was the perfect day to get Cole out on a surf board.

He refused to go. After much begging, Christian took him out past the breaking waves. Together they waited for the perfect wave to find them. Cole protested. He complained. He panicked. One wave was enough for him. He pouted back up the beach straight to his chair. He didn’t like the beach anymore. He was afraid of sharks, and he couldn’t see in the water. We left him in his chair to pout.

As his mom, I know better. I know the driving force behind his meltdown is fear. It’s a fear of the unknown, a fear of failure, and a fear of just not being good at surfing. I also know that nothing I can say will change his mind until he is ready. While he pouted, Christian surfed. I played in the water with Chet. Before I knew it, Cole was back out in the water with his own body board. He paddled out past the shore break. He was smiling. He caught a few waves before he decided he was done for the day. He then joined Chet and I in the surf and the sand for the rest of the afternoon. He now talks like he is professional surfer, and I know that his initial fear is far behind him.

“Don’t believe what your eyes are telling you. All they show is limitation. Look with your understanding. Find out what you already know and you will see the way to fly.” ~Richard Bach

The first mile and a half to the trail flew by on my run Sunday morning. I knew it was fast for me, but I wanted to get out of my comfort zone. I sat on the heels of my running partner, and I let her guide me. When we hit the trail, we both set out to run our plan. She pulled ahead. I fell back. My only focus was on surviving the 3.5 mile stretch that is the Cape Henry trail. I had stomach problems the whole run. We think too much breakfast was to blame. My head was tense. I couldn’t find mental comfort in my run. Tension took over my brain while the need to throw up took over my stomach.

My coach bounced back and forth between the two of us via his bicycle. He has a great way of simplifying things. Everything seems manageable. Yet, I struggled. My lungs felt good. My legs felt fine. My brain would not cooperate. I played mental games to try to help myself: positive affirmations, magnets along the trail (get to that tree, find that mile marker, pass that runner, etc.), my new marathon mantra. Nothing was working. Behind all that surface level positivity, a deeper level of fear still exists. Doubt has creeped into my brain, and I need it to go away. Maybe I need to write the mantra 1000 times until I believe it. Maybe I need those affirmations on every wall I look at. Maybe I just need to give myself a little more credit.

I finished my 12 mile run feeling a little mentally defeated, a little more eager to figure out what works for me nutritionally, and not nearly as physically exhausted as I had expected by the increase in miles.

I needed a moment to process these stupid fears of mine so I can get back in the game. I needed to sit in my lawn chair and gather my thoughts so I can jump back into the surf. It’s time for a dose of “Get over it Kristy”.

No one cares how fast I run but me.

This marathon won’t matter if I can’t find the confidence and strength to get it together mentally

This time last year, I ran 14 trail miles at an 11:55 pace! This weekend’s run was 12 miles at 9:22 pace! 2 minutes and 33 seconds faster per mile. This time last year, I ran 8.25 road miles at a 10:19 pace. My road miles are in the 8s now. My goal after the Crawlin Crab last October was long runs in the 9s and short runs in the 8s. This has been accomplished.

So while I’m giving myself these pep talks to be brave and to find strength, I also need to be gracious to myself. I’ve come a long way in a year. I have a long way that I want to go, but it doesn’t happen over night.

I walked away from this post to do my recovery run. The words I had written flooded my brain. Surprisingly my legs felt okay after my 12 mile run. I settled into the run. I ran my normal route to the river. When I got to the water’s edge, I realized what has been missing from my runs lately. My brain has been so focused on where I’m going, what I’m working towards, that I’m forgetting where I am. I’m forgetting to enjoy right now.

Dreaming big is important. Pushing yourself outside your comfort zone is crucial for engaging with the world. But the journey is meant to be enjoyed. The reason those big dreams are so fulfilling is because they add a vibrancy to life. Forgetting to celebrate the journey, the moments of now, is forgetting to love life.

So here’s to enjoying now! Here’s to enjoy the success of this very moment! Here’s to celebrating the journey. Here’s to dreaming big, hanging on, and appreciating the process: the good, the bad, the easy, the hard, the boring, and the amazing. Here’s to enjoying now.

This weekend’s run: 12 miles

8:55, 8:55, 9:07, 9:21, 9:17, 9:21, 9:30, 9:40, 9:34, 9:45

Impressions

As the back to school preparations took place for school, I sent Cole to his room to pick out his first day of school outfit. We had done some back to school shopping, but all his new things are for cooler weather. I gave him my suggestions of what to wear, and he responded with his suggestions. I wanted him to wear a nice pair of shorts, a new t-shirt, and a new flannel to start off the day. He wanted to wear his “comfy shorts” and “soft t-shirts”. I sighed.

The mom in me wanted him to look his best on his first day. I wanted him to make a good impression on is first day of school. I expressed these desires to him. He responded in his typical Cole fashion:

But Mom. It doesn’t matter what I look like on the outside. I’m smart and I’m funny. The teacher will get to know that about me. Who cares what I wear?

I think he is part saint and part smart. He knows I won’t argue with this point. It’s true. It doesn’t matter. I then tried to explain the theory behind a first impression. I explained how people make an assessments based on what they see. So he showered, combed his hair, brushed his teeth, and went to school wearing his comfy shorts and soft t-shirt. He is smart, and he is funny. I don’t want him to care about anything else.

As I photographed him on our front porch and in front of the tree by our driveway, a van full of laborers waited two houses down to begin work on our new roof (because I asked them to move). They were unannounced, and at this point, unwelcomed by me. The unannounced arrival did not set a first good impression. I was angry at the process. I was furious that the first day of school was being balanced with roofers. The ripples created by this disruption soon settled, and I settled back into my day.

When I left work at 2pm that same day, the skies opened up. My roof! All I could think about was that a bunch of people had my home open and exposed to the world and rain. If they didn’t care enough to announce their arrival, would they respect that this home is the heart of a family? I got home to work site. Things were everywhere, and people were scurrying to get tar paper in place to protect our house from the storm. When the storms didn’t subside, the workers left. They left behind them a mess. I had nails on my front steps. Scraps of frayed metal in my backyard. Metal Snips in the bushes. Piles and piles of debris were left everywhere. This doesn’t even begin to describe the mess they left behind. This is not what we agreed to. I was furious. When my husband got home, he was furious. The contractor returned after dinner, and he was furious. This is not the impression a company wants to represent their company. The roof could be the best roof ever constructed, but the appearance of their craftsmanship is now a reflection of how they clean up the job.

Impressions matter.

While I try to tell my child to not worry about how he looks, I am fighting with a contractor over how our house looks. It is what’s inside the person or on top of the house that matters most. That is where the real work happens and the focus should lie, but appearance does matter. Maybe the lesson I need to teach my children is that attention to detail matters. Attention to presentation matters. It’s not about being perfect or the best. It’s not about brand new clothes or the most expensive shingles, but it’s about putting your best foot forward. If wearing comfy shorts and a soft t-shirt gives you the confidence needed on the first day of school to let your smarts and your humor shine, wear a pair of comfy shorts and a soft t-shirt. If cleaning up behind yourself is what is need so that your customer can feel confident in the quality of your work, clean up behind yourself. These impressions matter. One day Cole’s wardrobe will be replace by a nice pair of pants and confident shirt as he tackles other life adventures. Those will become his comfort items. One day he will tackle a project such as installing a new roof. I want him to know that the attention to details and the presentation of the project can’t be forgotten. You have to focus on the details that are visible and understandable to everyone.

No one will notice the quality in your work or in you if you are hiding behind a mess.

The past 24 hours in our home have been incredibly stressful. I stood in my kitchen and cried this morning as the roofers arrived for their second day of work. I trust that we will have a quality roof when everything is done, but I feel like my home has been disrespected. Add to the layer of stress a night of no sleep and tears were bound to happen. Chet was awake from 2am – 5am (molars, I think?). Since I was already working another abbreviated day at work, I decided I needed to run. I dropped Chet off with my mom, and I ran from her house. No plan. No destination. I wanted comfort miles.

The first mile was mentally comforting. It was nice and easy, but this slower pace made my hip ache. My knee ached too. If I was going to run, I needed to get my stride back to its comfort zone. I opened up and the hip and knee pain disappeared, but all the stress from the last 24 hours bubbled right on up to surface. After a few more tears and a lot of doubt, I realized that maybe I’m focusing on the wrong thing too. I’m doing a lot of quality work on my running behind the scenes, but I’m only looking at the appearance of my goal race, the Richmond Marathon. That race really doesn’t matter. It’s the details leading up to that race that matter, so I need to put on my comfy shorts and soft t-shirt. I need to find whatever it is that gives me the confidence to bravely tackle this journey both mentally and physically, so who I am as a person and as a runner can shine. That is what matters.

No one will notice the quality in your work or in you if you are hiding behind a mess – As I embrace all these fears that are circling around me about life and running, I need to remember this too. I’m putting in quality work to achieve these goals of mine. I will never reach them if I allow this mess, these fears, these stresses to take over! How do I do this? I’m not sure, but I’m on the path to figuring it out.

Loop through my parents' neighborhood — Loop through my parents’ neighborhood

The Start of Something New

This week marks a huge shift in the function of our household.

Monday was my first official day training for the Richmond Marathon.
Today is Cole’s first day of 4th grade
Tonight is Cole’s first soccer practice for the fall season
The end of summer means better weather for all of Christian’s favorite activities: fishing, biking, and maybe even some surf if we have a hurricane this year.
In a few weeks, Chet will begin going to “school” two days a week.
And Chet is refusing to help! (Nooooo!)

My head has been spinning this weekend. Normally my weekend long runs help me find mental clarity and a sense of calm for the weekend. This weekend’s run wasn’t the case. The reason for the craptastic run are endless – I woke up late, it was too hot, my fuel belt was all over the place, I decided to run a hard trail, my pony tail was annoying, I was in a hurry, and the list goes on – but in nut shell, I just mentally couldn’t get myself together. This bugs me. In fact, it really drives me crazy.

I turned my garmin off less than two miles into the run because even that was driving me crazy, so I don’t even have a pretty map or mile splits to satisfy me after my run. I just have a crap run and a feeling of being unsettled.

The rest of Saturday flew by along with Sunday. Monday arrived, and the start of the school year smacked me in the face. I got to work meal planning, grocery shopping, updating our family calendar, cleaning house, doing laundry, and prepping Cole for his first day. We packed his book bag full of supplies, we laid out his clothes, and he was sent to bed early enough to get a good night of sleep.

In the midst of all this juggling, I texted a friend who thrives on living a busy life. What was her secret? How does she make it work? Her response: tackle each day one day at a time. Don’t look at the whole month. Look at today. This was music to my ears and exactly what I needed.

Hello Tuesday! I’ve got you under control.

5am – wake up

5:30am – work

7am – return home to wake up Cole

7:40am – bus stop

2:00pm – leave work early

3:00pm – get Cole off the bus

5:30pm – soccer practice (sneak in a run while he is practicing)

6:45pm – Taco Tuesday

8:00pm – begin bedtime for the boys

I can handle this schedule. As I stood in the kitchen this morning making breakfast for Cole feeling confident about my ability to manage all these new changes, a white van with ladders on top slowly headed down our street. I looked at my husband and said, “I bet they are coming to put on our new roof”. (We were waiting on a phone call from our contractor to schedule the installation and were told it would probably happen on Friday). Sure enough, the van stopped in front our house. My husband quickly rushed to the front yard to avoid them coming to door. The dog would love to announce their arrival and wake up my still sleeping baby. They were here to work on our roof. They waited in front of our house (smoking their cigarettes) while my husband contacted our contractor. While he talked, the clock kept on ticking. We were getting closer to that 7:40 bus stop visit. I was not going to take pictures of Cole heading back to school in a cloud of smoke. Whether it is a good or bad thing is debatable, but when my life gets tilted off-balance my response is normally driven by emotions. I politely asked them to find a new place to park until they were ready to start their work day, and my daily agenda was back on track.

Once Cole was on the bus and off to school, I had to reassess the rest of the day. The dog now needed to go to daycare, Chet needed to get to Grandma’s, and I needed to get my butt to work.

It’s now lunch time and the crazy whirlwind of the morning is behind me. I survived with my emotions in check, and yet that unsettled feeling from Saturday’s run is still lingering. I just can’t shake it. It wouldn’t go away in my short and easy run around the neighborhood last night. It wouldn’t go away after I put the boys to bed. It certainly didn’t go away when I was surprised with a roof installation.

I can only connect the feeling to one word: Fear

I know the best things in life come from tackling fear, but learning to embrace the fear of the unknown is definitely in the column in my life labeled “room for improvement”. What am I afraid of? If I had to connect the fear to a specific emotion it would be strongly rooted in not being enough:

fear that my hip isn’t healthy enough to tackle 26.2 miles
fear that my legs aren’t fast enough to get me to the finish line
fear that I’m going to be disappointed by my race performance, again.
fear that I’m not organized enough to tackle it all
fear that something is going to get forgotten
fear that I’ll lack in my parenting
fear that I’ll lack in my wife-ing (yes, I’m pretending that’s a word)
fear that something is going to get lost in the shuffle

I am simply afraid of disappointing. Not others, but myself. I want to be a good mom, not a perfect mom, but an engaged mom. I want to be an engaged wife. And I know that running is the key to me feeling accomplished in every aspect of my life.

I know it’s all in my head, and it’s something I have to work through. It’s also something that I have to let go of in this process. These expectations are all mine, they are all something I have placed on myself; therefore it is up to me to get rid of them.

So I’m hoping that by putting it on paper, by acknowledging this fear of disappointment, this fear of not being enough, I will find the right avenue for working through it. Words are a powerful thing. Saying out loud that right now, today, I am afraid at the end of this cycle of life I am going to end up disappointed takes away the power in those feelings. It almost sounds silly on paper.

Hello Fall! Hello School! Hello Marathon Training! I’m certainly ready to learn all that it has to offer.

Step by Step (Ohh baby!)

“Stairs are climbed step by step” ~Turkish Proverb

Over a decade ago (yes! that makes me feel old), I walked across the stage and received my diploma from Old Dominion University. I graduated with a degree in English with a concentration in education. I thought I wanted to be a teacher. During those (ahem!) five years I spent studying (and working and abusing a fake ID), I sat in many development classes. They all fascinated me. They all made sense. We studied Freud and Erikson, Bandura and Vygotsky. I was ready to conquer the world.

My life plans got altered and before I knew it I was living in Alabama while my then-husband was studying to be pilot. I got pregnant. I became a mom. I started to observe all the life changes I studied in those classes in the small baby I had created. I was still fascinated. I remembered learning about life stages and charts that looked like stair steps. Now I was seeing it play out before my eyes.

As I watched Cole grow, I noticed the stair-step pattern in his behavior. For weeks, I’d have a happy baby. Then the tides would change and I would have an irritable difficult baby. Cole would eventually hit his peak in these difficult times, and my easy baby would return along with another new level of development. He became content with life again. New challenges would arise. Cole would discover a new level of skill that he would want to master. The difficult baby returned while he mastered the new skill. This upward climb of development always equaled having a difficult baby. When he would reach the top of his climb and conquer his skill, the easy baby returned.

This pattern has carried Cole through his life so far. I’m also seeing the same pattern in Chet’s behavior. As a mom, I’ve learned to find comfort in the difficult times by acknowledging that they are going through a transformation of their own. They are struggling to get to where they are going. The are desperately trying to make that next step. The trying times, the times filled with bad behavior and pushing boundaries, are always rewarded by peace and a sense of accomplishment that comes from reaching the plateau of the next step.

It’s easy to recognize these patterns in my children. It’s not always easy to see them in my own behavior. It’s easy to be understanding of the climb in young children because they have so much to learn and accomplish. I sometimes forget this applies to adults too. Fighting for what we want to achieve comes natural to children. At what age do we outgrow that fight?

“Struggling and suffering are the essence of a life worth living. If you’re not pushing yourself beyond the comfort zone, if you’re not demanding more from yourself – expanding and learning as you go – you’re choosing a numb existence. You’re denying yourself an extraordinary trip.” ~ Dean Karnazes

As I travel down this quest towards marathon #2 and ultimately a marathon that will get me to Boston, I’m making sure I carry this awareness with me. I am on the upward climb of a stair step right now. My 10 mile run this Saturday at a 9:03 pace certainly doesn’t put me in a position to qualify for Boston TODAY, but the run is on the right set of stairs. I’m going to have to struggle, work hard, and fight my way to the next step, but I will get there. I will reach the landing of the next step, and a 9 minute mile paced long run will become easy. This is already happening. Every moment of struggle and fight will be rewarded by a moment of peace and ease. The cycle will continue. I will then climb the next step, and I will keep climbing until my stairs runs out.

Recovery Run with my Family. At Sunset. Along the Lynnhaven River.

Saturday’s Long run: 10 miles at a 9:03 pace

8:48, 8:56, 9:20, 9:29, 9:18, 9:09, 9:04, 9:06, 8:41, 8:16

A little all over the place while I rediscover my new comfort level in running.

Living, Loving, Running…and Showing Up!

Tuesday night was the kick off meeting for J&A Racing’s Live, Love, Run Team. One of the perks of being on this team is free races. I started my registration process by signing up for my favorite, the Shamrock Marathon. Marathon #3 here I come.

I didn’t think much about the registration process until I got to the question that prompted me to enter my estimated finish time.

I froze.

I felt like I arrived at that proverbial fork in the road. What numbers was I going to enter?

I was still frozen.

I sent a text to my coach. I sent a text to a friend. I sent another text. As responses came back, I realized I knew my answer. I just had to find the courage to commit. I had to put myself on the path that would lead me to that “dream big” goal.

3:39. A Boston Qualifying time for me for the 2015 Boston Marathon.

I was still frozen.

Wednesday morning Pace of Me, that girl I chased for my 7:xx minute miles, posted a fabulous reminder from one of my favorite books. You can have courage in life or you can have comfort, but you can’t have both. Brene Brown beautifully discusses the art of vulnerability in her book Daring Greatly. As I hit submit on my race entry, I knew these were the words I needed to read.

“The willingness to show up changes us, It makes us a little braver each time.” ~ Brene Brown

Wednesday night I finished a ridiculously hard speed work out with my running coach. It was another one of those runs I thought I wouldn’t finish. I survived. Survival has never felt so good when your legs, lungs, and heart are screaming at you less than half way into your work out. I completed another real work out that is going to make me faster and stronger. These workouts are building a mental confidence in me that will be need as I run to qualify for Boston. Quitting was never an option in my brain during the run. The self talk was about how to survive the work out. It was about finishing. It was about finding strength. These workouts are making me stronger.

“Daring Greatly is not about winning or losing. It’s about courage. In a world where scarcity and shame dominate and feeling afraid has become second nature, vulnerability is subversive. Uncomfortable. It’s even a little dangerous at times. And, without question, putting ourselves out there means there’s far greater risk of feeling hurt. But as I look back on my own life and what Daring Greatly has meant to me, I can honestly say that nothing is more uncomfortable, dangerous, and hurtful as believing that I’m standing on the outside of my life looking in and wondering what it would be like if I had the courage to show up and let myself be seen.” ~Brene Brown

When I day dreamed about running a half-marathon in my office in Nashville, when I barely ran a 12 minute mile on the tread mill at my parents’ house after moving back home, when I committed to really running a half-marathon in our tiny house by the ocean, when I ran my first marathon on the streets of my hometown, I never thought Boston would be a part of my running story. Now I know it will be. I will make it happen. Running with my coach has renewed the competitive fire inside of me. It has shown me that I’m just beginning to scratch at the surface of my running talent. I’m going to do the work and I’m going to find the courage I need to show up and make it happen. I’m not afraid of failing. Failing would be not trying. I want to be on the path towards Boston. The Shamrock Marathon is the start of the quest. Here’s to hoping and working my butt off to make it happen so I can run the streets of Boston.