Kristy Maute

17 Month Freedom

Today my baby is 17 months old. He announces he is awake every morning after a little morning wake up play in his crib by bouncing up and down in the corner of the crib. His moo cow(s) have been thrown to the floor and his passys are having a party scattered across the room. On the mornings I am at home when he wakes up, I peek through door. As it slowly opens, he settles down. He waits to see who will come peaking through the small crack the opening door has made. Mama! After announcing my entrance, we always laugh and giggle as I collect his treasured items before starting our day.

Yesterday evening, Chet and I pulled into the driveway after working all day (and playing at Grandma’s house – or if you ask Chet, it’s probably amp-pa’s house because he adores everything about Grandpa). He kicks and pinches and scratches and hits (you get the picture) as I make him come inside. When I let the dog out to go the bathroom, he throws himself on the floor to protest being confined inside the walls of our house. After a quick change of my clothes, we are back outside. Ba-bulls. Ba-bulls. For thirty minutes, he plays with an empty bubble bottle. He is fascinated by removing the lid, removing the bubble wand, putting the bubble wand back, and putting the lid back. The only thing that diverts his attention is the sound of the ice cream truck. He is a little to young to know the treats he could find inside the musical truck, but he isn’t too young to love the sounds he is hearing. He drops everything to dance. Knees bent, booty shaking, and arms clapping are his go-to dance moves.

On Monday, Grandpa and I arrived at my parent’s house at the same time. I almost got a hello. Instead of greeting me with open arms, he ran to the stairs. He was telling grandpa to go upstairs like he does every day when he gets home from work. Chet was guiding him to the treadmill. After much demanding, Chet waddled his way onto the treadmill where he mimicked Grandpa walking as he announced with delight, amp-pa! amp-pa! amp-pa! He threw another fit as we tried to leave and another fit as I tried to buckle him in his car seat. Instead of following our normal path to Cole’s school, Chet and I took a pit stop at Trader Joes. Our kitchen cabinets were empty. As we made our way through the produce section, I recycled the old grocery shopping tricks that worked with Cole expecting to get little response from Chet. We started with bananas. Chet, can you find mama bananas? His little hand quickly pointed to the bananas. Next we need an avocado. I really didn’t expect a response from this one since he doesn’t like avocado, but he surprised me again. His little hand guided me straight to the avocados. Next we need apples. As I lifted a bag of apples into the cart, Ap-pull spilled from his lips. Where did this child come from? When I put him to bed on Sunday, the only words he liked to say were brother, ball, dog and woof.

On Sunday, we spent the day at Busch Gardens. Chet waved to everyone. He smiled from ear to ear on every ride. He protested every time he had to get off a ride. He splashed in water. He stood under water falls. He danced up and down the aisle during the lunch time musical performance. Last Friday, he got his first hair cut. The baby hair on the back of his head was slowly becoming a big, frizzy mullet. That curl that used to be so cute is now gone.

Today we took the long way home once again. It was unexpected that we would spend a few hours together. After a quick run from the north end of the beach to the boardwalk, we made our way to the ocean. For the first few minutes, he held on tight to my legs. He then realized he could hide his feet in the sand. He then realized the rush of cold water was more fun with a squeal. We ran up and down the beach. He chased me. I chased him. The waves chased us both.

It’s so easy to look back and see how he has changed and grown. It is happening every single day. With every wake up he is discovering something new. He is amazing me with how much he knows. The freedom that comes with being 17 months old is inspiring. He dances when he hears music. He isn’t afraid to protest when things aren’t going his way. If his actions result in a laugh, a smile or a squeal from someone, he will repeat it over and over again because smiles, laughs and squeals feel good. Dance along with the ice cream man, run along side the waves, and fight for what you want. The freedom that comes along with it is worth it.

Pick-Ups

I vowed after my 17 mile run this past winter that left me completely gutted that I would never run down the Cape Henry Trail again. That run was five and a half months ago, and yet, I feel like a lifetime existed in the winter and spring months since that date. Time has passed, and the long never-ending trail doesn’t haunt me anymore. My feet have led me back to that trail. For the past six weeks, I have returned every Wednesday. My miles are smaller this time, nothing bigger than six miles as I nurse an aggravated hip. They are more focused and full of ambition and excitement. My running is changing.

Running with my coach (on a bike beside me) is peeling off layers. It’s shaking off the rust that has accumulated: rust on these running legs of mine that has been building up since I ran track in high school, rust on this brain of mine that got stuck thinking that I am slow since returning to running a few years ago, and rust on this heart of mine that has needed a little protecting since it was broken this winter.

As I made my way through several series of pick-ups during yesterdays run, I felt myself shed another layer. As my stride extended to cover more trail and my arms worked to help carry me, I felt like I was flying. I felt free. For you non-runners, the best comparison I can make is to compare it to a horse. The trot, my normal comfortable run pace, is rigid and bouncy. The canter of a horse smoothes out and a rhythm develops. And the gallop – that is where the flying happens!

My love for running has moved into another category. I now remember why those six-minute miles felt amazing in high school. These pick-ups have shown me how great it feels to let go and run. My garmin is showing glimpses of 6s again even if they are just for brief moments. These pick-ups are leaving me with a smile on my face, the simple act of putting it out there and letting it go. They are also extending beyond my Wednesday runs. I’m looking for them everywhere.

That 17 mile run in January left me gutted, but so did life. An instinctive need to guard myself from all big emotions (even the good ones) became my method for dealing with life. This impacts everything. My relationship with Christian became a little more stressed. My interaction with the boys became a little more guarded. Opening up and feeling the big love I have for them all became scary. I started to get rusty.

During my runs I’m choosing to run these pick-ups. I’m also choosing to find pick-ups in my daily life. Instead of shying away from an extra kiss from my husband in the kitchen, I’m hanging on to that extra moment. I’m leaving my side of the living room to curl up on his lap at the end of the day. In the middle of the night last night, I woke up and found myself holding his hand. I’m lingering at bedtime as I tuck Cole into bed instead of rushing through the process. I’m adding an extra block to our family walks because it’s one of the few times Cole loves to converse. I’m tickling Chet more, and letting him pick my nose. We are sharing smoothies on the porch.

Morning run before anyone else was awake

Our day-to-day life will probably always be the a little rigid and a little bouncy like the trot of a horse. We are a normal busy family. We will get rusty. It’s the small moments in the time that we do get to share, the pick-ups in our day, when we open up, we let ourselves go, and we commit to flying that matter most. It’s where the real work happens.

Produce

Friday afternoon, Chet and I waited at the bus stop for his brother to come from school. We had our grocery bags in hand and were ready to head to our local Whole Foods. As we walked through the front doors of the grocery store, Cole and I found our rhythm. Chet was along for the ride on my hip. Cole instantly started playing our veggie game. I rambled off ingredients that we needed. He selected and bagged. This is our system. It has always been this way.

When Cole was 17 months old, I became a single mom. His dad was deployed for a year. My family lived a state away. It was me and him all day every day. Chet is just shy of 17 months.

This weekend, I lived the life of a single mom while my husband worked long hours. Walking through the produce section with my two boys by myself brought back those feelings. I had a strategy for surviving everything when it was just me and Cole. We had a map of the grocery store that we created. He would guide me to each section. He was in charge of produce. When he was at his youngest, we started with colors. I need green vegetables. I need red vegetables. As he grew, I needed specific vegetables: broccoli, green beans, a cucumber. Then we added counting into the mix. Find mom 2 green peppers. These memories I hold closely to my heart. Cole and I survived that period of growth.

Cole quickly filled our shopping cart with everything we needed for dinner Friday night. As he was selecting peppers in the color of his choice, I realized just how far we have come together as mom and son. It’s been over 7 years since we learned to live on our own. Our family has doubled in size. He now likes to observe the process of chopping and combining the veggies for a salad. His favorite task is to take the vegetable scraps and spread them in the front bushes. It’s a treat for his favorite animals, the neighborhood raccoons. Soon he will be ready to prepare the salad himself. And one day, he will make a salad in his own kitchen and grocery shop with his own family.

Before I know it, I will be grocery shopping on my own without children to feed. I won’t have small hands helping me pick out the perfect corn on the cob. Next time I’m at the grocery store, I may linger in the produce section a little longer. I may add a few extra veggies to our cart.

Off Leash

As children we found ways to protect ourselves from vulnerability, from being hurt, diminished, and disappointed. We put on armor; we used our thoughts, emotions, and behaviors as weapons; and we learned how to make ourselves scarce, even to disappear. Now as adults we realize that to live with courage, purpose, and connection – to be the person whom we long to be – we must again be vulnerable. We must take off the armor, put down the weapons, show up, and let ourselves be seen ~ Brene Brown

A month ago I met with a running coach for a stride/gait/arm analysis. On the drive to our meeting spot, I was filled with nerves. I was showing up to be observed. In a lot of ways, I had first date jitters. I am guilty of not always feeling confident about my running ability. I’ve hidden behind phrases such as Oh I’m not fast and I run slow as a way to protect myself. It’s easier to hide behind being slow than it is to boldly attack being fast. Would he think I was good enough to be a “runner”? As I got out of the car to introduce myself, I realized there was only one way this meeting would be successful. I had to be me. I had to run my run. I could meet with him and tell him all about my “slow” marathon, I could try to run out of my comfort zone so maybe he would think I am “fast”, but none of these scenarios would give me the end result I wanted. I want fine tuning of my running. I want growth in my running. I had to risk being slow and not good enough and every other possible form of feedback I had created in my head, so I could learn to be better.

Yes, we are totally exposed when we are vulnerable. Yes, we are in the torture chamber that we call uncertainty. And, yes, we’re taking a huge emotional risk when we allow ourselves to be vulnerable. But there is no equation where taking risks, braving uncertainty, and opening ourselves up to emotional exposure equals weakness. ~Brene Brown

I’ve now worked with my coach for five running sessions. I still get nervous on the drive to the run, but being observed and getting feedback really isn’t so scary. Being open and willing to learn has given me comfort and confidence in my running. These runs have become my favorite run of the week.

In so many ways it feels like I’ve let go of the leash that has been keeping me restricted. It’s nice to run free. I’ve quit relying on a garmin to tell me how I’m doing (I haven’t even replaced my broken garmin. I’ve just been borrowing my husbands to track mileage since I don’t know how to take it off biking mode). I’ve let go of having a training plan written on paper. Instead I’m focusing on my hips, my arms, coiling, etc. I’m running by feel. At the end of a run, it is much more satisfying to finish feeling strong than it is to look for a number on a watch.

Mother's Day Run with Alex - off leash for the first time — Mother’s Day Run with Alex – off leash for the first time

Having a running coach has given me all the same things I love about practicing in a yoga studio versus practicing at home. I love practicing at home, but there is something special about being in a class with the right teacher. The simple touch of someone else can give space to your spine. It can allow you to breathe deeper into a pose. It brings attention to things I can’t observe – a wrinkled forehead, tense shoulders, twisting from the wrong place in my hips. Running with a coach has also allowed me to be so much more aware of my body – tucking my chest, relaxing the muscles in my butt, pulling my hips back. Being aware of all these small changes dramatically change how my body feels. This entire process has really allowed me to relax and let my runs come to me.

Running always hand delivers life lessons to me.When the things you do and the life you live constantly overlap each other, it’s a good indicator you’re heading in the right direction. I’m embracing this new path both in running and in living – a little less structured, a little less defined, more shining, and less shying away from feedback. I’m letting go of my leash.

Committed

Three years ago today I married my husband. I knew from the moment I saw him for the first time that I would spend the rest of my life with him. I got out of my car, met him at the doors to the Mexican restaurant, and literally fell into his arms. He went to shake my hand. I had to hug him. When he wrapped his arms around me, everything melted away. His touch peeled away every stress, every ounce of sadness, every regret, and every ounce of blame I carried around with me. His hug gave me permission to forgive myself.

I believe with my whole heart that life can’t be lived from a loving place until you forgive yourself for all the silly nonsense in life. Life can’t be lived until you embrace yourself for who you are – the good along side of the “bad”. Christian’s love has given me this gift.

You must love in such a way that the person you love feel free. ~ Thich Nhat Hanh

Christian’s love has set me free. His hugs still make my body melt. My shoulders, my chest, and my brain all become a puddle when I’m in his arms. He removes every ounce of stress I carry around with me.

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Today, on our anniversary, I also got an email from my running coach. It outlines the philosophy behind how he trains his runners and his plans for me over the summer and into marathon training for Richmond. It is intense. It scares the crap out of me. It also makes me so excited for my journey.

Another whole hearted belief I carry around me with is about goal setting. I love goals. I also think goals should scare the crap out of you. If you don’t get butterflies in your stomach and if your hands don’t start to sweat a little when putting your goals on paper, dream bigger. The biggest rewards come from having the courage to travel down the road towards a goal that makes you want to pee your pants!

(Seriously try it! If all your dreams came true, “X” would happen. Now what do you need to do to get there. For me that creates butterflies. I may or may not actually achieve “X”, but the journey is going to take me to exactly where I belong.)

It’s not going to be easy. I’m going to have to work my ass off to make it happen. I also know I’m going to love every second (even the tough days) of this journey. This new training plan and my coach’s willingness to work with me have me dreaming even bigger than I could possibly imagine.

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May 1st will always be a day that fills me to my brim with love. It is a reminder that true love for yourself and a genuine pure love from your partner in life are the only things needed in. Christian’s love for me gives me a space in life to dream big. His love for me allows me to walk (or perhaps run) down my life path. Our commitment to each other is what allows us to commit to the world. I could never say yes to an insane training plan if I didn’t have his love.

While I’m committing to lots and lots of running, I have to make sure I commit to loving first. I have to make sure Christian is my top priority because without him everything else falls flat. I have to remember to squeeze out every second of the day with my boys, so mama guilt doesn’t take over when I’m running again. My whole hearted beliefs have to start with my family. I love my husband. I love the life we are creating together. Running reminds me of this every single time I put on my running shoes.

Intentional Loving. Intentional Living. Intentional Running. This year I am going big!