Kristy Maute

Recovering

This week has taken its toll on me. I’m tired. Recovery from the half-marathon last Sunday was a lot harder than I expected. That race took everything out of me. Adding to my exhaustion were/are:

School started. Hello 3rd grade! How did we get here?
I’m still adjusting to Christian’s new job and having to juggle a few hours each evening solo.
Surf. Thanks to Hurricane Leslie hanging out in the Atlantic, there has been surf all week…….which means I have seen my husband even less. When there is surf in Virginia Beach, you surf (and I try not to grumble although I’m not always good at it).
Chet is teething…..and really really teething. The top left tooth has popped through and his right one is so close. Two more are working there way to the surface too.
Chet is also fighting bedtime and sleeping in general. Our nights have been filled with refusing to go to bed, cluster feedings and 2, 3, 0r 4 wake ups. My nights have been filled with 1 hour segments of sleep. Although Chet has never been a “good” sleeper, this week has been extra hard on me. My body is craving sleep to recover from the heat during the race.

Thanks to all of the above, I didn’t find my running shoes (or my yoga mat or any form of physical activity) until Thursday. I do not recommend this form of recovery to anyone. Thursday morning I woke up and felt like I was run over by a bus. I called in sick to work, because I just couldn’t do it. Instead of staying on the couch all day in my pajamas, I went running. I put Chet in his stroller, I harnessed up the dog, and we set out to run a few miles. I just wanted to get all the funk out of my body, and I knew the only way to accomplish this was running.

Mission Accomplished. I felt human. For the moment.

While the easy three miles behind the stroller rid my body of the funk it was holding on to, I was still craving more. I wanted to run. I wanted to disappear from the world for a while. Physically my body is tired, but emotionally I’m tired too. Our family is dealing with some things that are weighing heavily on us right now (cancer sucks in case you didn’t know). So many emotions have been floating around our house while we have all hid from them. Not quite ready to grab hold of the emotions, they have spilled out and bubbled up into every aspect of our life.

This morning, I claimed it as my own (surf or no surf!). I set my garmin to only calculate mileage. I headed for the trails and I ran 9 feel good, carefree, make me smile miles. I ran an extension of a trail I have never ran, but I have always wanted to explore. This trail was beyond beautiful. The miles were beyond needed. It felt good to run hills. It felt amazing to splash through mud puddles. The quiet on the trail was therapeutic. There were several miles, I quietly ran without thought or concern. The other miles, I focused on textures – the texture of my breath, the feeling of each inhale, focusing on breathing with the all of my lungs and not just a portion. The texture of the earth beneath my feet, the sand, the mud, the dirt, the roots, the rocks. The texture of the air – sweet-smelling, hints of fall yet still holding on to summer, another rainless run although it teased me with a downpour as I drove to the trails and a few sprinkles around mile 6. The texture of each of my muscles – my legs felt strong running over the new terrain, my muscles welcomed the change.

Life is simple when running yet so wonderfully complex.

As I rounded a corner, this view stopped me in my tracks

There is nothing better than running shoes, trails, and enough miles under my feet to process life. I finished the run feeling light, feeling free, and feeling recovered (for the moment).

I’ll be back next weekend to conquer 12 more miles.

Rock n Roll Half-Marathon 2012 – Race Report

Every race has a story of its own. This is perhaps why I love running, why I love racing. Until you get to that day, you never know what to expect. You can prepare. You plan for the best. But it’s not until you show up, at the start line, and you begin to run, that the story of your race reveals itself to you. Some stories have no words. Some challenges and emotions can’t be fully captured on paper. This race is one of those races.

Today’s story makes me proud.

Temperature at 4am (when I woke up): 75 degrees

Humidity: 94%

Dew Point: 73 degrees

Based on my new-found knowledge about dew point, race day running conditions fell into “Forget Pace – Focus on Finishing” category.

Race Plan: Run Strong

I went into this race with high hopes and a lot of confidence about what I could accomplish. If everything came together perfectly (fresh legs, good weather, good sleep), I knew I could run a 2:15 half. I quickly went to bed at 9:30pm hoping (and praying) that Chet would sleep. I finally fell asleep around 10. Chet woke up at midnight. Between midnight and 2am, I nursed him. I nursed him some more. And again. And one more time. I was finally back to sleep at 2am after whispering to my husband at least I won’t have to pump in the morning (and I must add, my husband did offer to take care of Chet that night, but with limited milk supply in our freezer I choose to nurse!). At 4am, my alarm went off. Go ahead and scratch good night of sleep of my list for the day.

Wake-up time: 4am

Race Day Breakfast: Whole wheat waffles

Race Day Attire: Lululemon tank (thanks mom!). Lululemon shorts. Swiftwick Socks. Mizunos. Garmin.

I meet up with Heidi at the oceanfront before we walked to the start line together. We did the normal prerace stuff: bag check, ate a banana, drank some water, used the bathroom. As we lined up in the corral, I was already sweating (this was not a good sign for how the day would unfold). Go ahead and scratch good weather off my list for the day.

The weather really deserves its own blog post. It was brutal. The air was thick. It was muggy. It was hard to breath. The announcers at the race kept listing off warnings about the weather. Run with caution. Drink water. Walk. Take breaks. Today was not a day for PRs. They gave out sponges along the course (this did not happen at the race last year or the year before).

As we lined up behind the 2:15 pacer, I knew I had to try. Although I knew the weather conditions would require a slower pace, I just had to try. I had to or I’d regret it. So I tried.

Mile 1: 10:14

Mile 2: 10:41

The first two miles were so congested. I passed people. I got in people’s way. People were already walking by mile 1. I ran on sidewalks. It was a crazy fight for elbow room. The first water stop was just as crazy. They were already having a hard time keeping up with the demand for water. From the beginning, I knew I’d walk for water at each water stop every mile and a half mile. Hydration was key for the race.

Mile 3: 10:22

Mile 4: 10:41

Mile 5: 10:32

Mile 6: 10:45

Around mile 2, my friend from high school found me. She was running her first half (and did AMAZING!!! 2:25!!!). We ran together until we found my family. I saw them at Mile 6.5. At this point, I knew 2:15 wasn’t happening. I knew a PR wasn’t likely. Instead of stressing over numbers, I stopped. I said hello. I gave hugs to my family. I gave kisses to my boys. Christian had his bag full of stash ready for any support I would need. He dug out salt tablets for me. The weather was taking its toll on my body. I was light-headed. My hands were going numb. I was already drinking two Gatorade at each water stop and dumping a glass (or two) of water on my head. It was just too hot outside.

Mile 7: 14:36 (family stop)

Mile 8: 11:55

Mile 9: 11:51

I like numbers. I like goal numbers. I wanted 10s on my watch yesterday. But as I turned the corner to tackle the 4 hardest miles on the course (mile 6 -10), I didn’t care. I rarely looked at my watch. Every half mile, someone was passed out on the ground. Medical teams were treating people everywhere. It was Mile 7 in a half marathon, and I saw someone getting IV fluids. I have never witnessed this many people on the ground before in any of my races. It was scary. (I saw my first person on the ground at mile 4!). Too say I was mentally intimated was an understatement. I just wanted to finish. I wanted to run (and walk) smart.

At Mile 10, I found my husband again. He gave me more salt tablets. I swapped out my hand-held water bottle for a new one. A quick pep talk and I was off. At this point my feet were on fire. My socks and shoes were soaking wet. My stomach was cramping. The back of my ankles were raw (and bleeding as I later discovered). How can one race beat up your body when a summer of training runs were good to you?

Mile 10: 13:14 (hubby stop)

Mile 11: 12:55

Mile 12: 12:28

Mile 13: 11:40

Final .1 (or garmin .24): 2:21

Normally as I round the turn to the final boardwalk stretch, I get emotional. I choke back tears. Not this race. I don’t think I had enough fluid in my body to make tears. This race I just wanted to find the finish line. I let go off all race expectations at mile 7. At this point, every ounce of what I had left in me was focused on the getting to the finish line without tipping over.

Official Race Time: 2:34:21

If you would have told me a week ago, I would run a 2:30+ half marathon, I would have rolled my eyes. Not a chance! I would have told you there was no way in hell I’d ever run a 2:30+ half marathon again. If you would have told me at the start line, I would be on the course for over two hours and thirty minutes, I would have laughed. No way. Maybe I shouldn’t have tried to go for 2:15. Maybe I shouldn’t have stopped and talked to my family for several minutes. But as soon as I got on the course, as soon as I started running, I knew my race wasn’t about time. It was about finishing. It was about finding a place inside myself that let go of expectations and ran with a happy heart. At mile 10, I told myself to do what I needed to do to finish with a smile on my face. Hugs and kisses from my family make me smile. Stopping to stick my head in the sprinkler from one of the spectator’s yard made me smile. High fiving all the kids along the course made me smile. Exhaling and laughing with the runner next to me as we both stopped to walk again made me smile. This race was good for my soul. Although every limb on my body felt heavy, my heart felt light.

Crazy to think a year ago he was in my belly

2:34:21 makes me smile. 2:34:21 makes me proud. I fought hard for the time. I gave it everything I had while running smart. I ran my strong on race day given all the different factors of the day. I wouldn’t change a thing.

(and it was so reassuring to finish the race hearing everyone echoing my same thoughts. It was so reassuring to talk to all my runner friends who raced yesterday who said the same things I was feeling.Without a doubt these were the hardest conditions I have ever run in.)

The race was brutal. The weather was unforgiving. And if it taught me anything, it confirmed my quest for a sub 2:15 half marathon. I know I have it in me. I suspect I have a lot more than sub 2:15 too. I’m on a mission to find it. Next race: four weeks away. Crawlin Crab half marathon!

Run Strong

oh the week before a race……..

I’m excited. Anxious. Impatient. Optimistic. Freaking out (only a little). Constantly checking weather reports (like I can control it). Can’t stop talking about it.

Running is about the only thing my brain can focus on this week.

It feels like it has been a long time since I’ve been here. I’ve run races, sure. But I haven’t fully trained on a body that was 100% ready in almost two years. I don’t think I have been this diligent, this committed, this dedicated to following a training plan since I ran my first half marathon in the spring of 2010 (if you don’t count last summer because I could never fully train since I had a permanent training partner growing in my belly).

I am ready to set my alarm clock for an hour when most bars close for the night. I’m ready to put on my running shoes. I’m ready to push myself. I’m ready to see how my race unfolds on Sunday. And because I’ve done the work, because I’ve worked hard, because I’ve pushed my body through an awful summer in Virginia, I’m hoping race day is good to me.

I want my race day high.

New Image — The oceanfront is ready for the weekend

All week I’ve been trying to figure out my plan for race day (so I can ditch it as soon as I cross the start line). I want a PR. I really want a run in the 2:teens. I really really want a sub 2:15 for this race. But my logical brain knows that the time on the clock will be the outcome of my race and I can’t run my race for a time. I have to run it by feel.

So what is my plan? Find the 2:15 pace group in the beginning. Run the first 3 miles with the group to test out my legs (and the weather) that morning. From there, I will figure it out. Because running is more of an emotional journey for me than a physical one, I’ll run whatever my heart is telling me to run that day. I think I will know by mile 3 if I have more or less in me on that day. I’m counting on more. Ideally, I’d love to stay with the group up until mile 10. At that point, I’d love keep the group behind me.

New Image2 — Only thing missing is the runners

Race Day Mantra: RUN STRONG.

Regardless of time, I want to finish feeling strong. I want to run every single mile feeling strong. I am healthy. I am strong. and I’m running this race for me. Race day is a celebration of hard work and dedication (for me). It’s a time to honor my body. It’s a time to test myself and prove to myself what I can do.

I am so ready to run on Sunday. I’m so ready to dig deep (Love you Husband!). I’m ready for all the emotions that I’m flooded with on every single race. I’m ready for my 13.1 mile journey to begin. Bring on Race Day!

Race Day Facts:

Race Day: Sunday, September 2nd

Start Time: 7am

14,000 runners

Sundays Forecast: High – 86/ Low – 74. Isolated rain showers. 40% chance of rain.

Bib #10521

Corral #10

And if you really want to stalk me (and because I’m not paying to track my bib #), I’m turning my endomondo on at some point when I’m in the corral to start. Feel free to friend me. It’s never 100% accurate, but it will give you a good idea of where I’m at in the race.

And if you are really bored……..go read my race recap from last year! How in the world did I do that 26 weeks pregnant!

Beyond Grounding

One month ago Cole found himself grounded. Grounded from video games. Grounded from television. Grounded from technology. For an entire month. The last month of summer break.

As his punishment was decided, I selfishly thought with dread “what am I going to do with him to keep him entertained for four weeks without a technology distraction every now and then – for those moments when I need a break – for those moments when his brother won’t stop fussing – for those moments when I’m out running and Christian needs to decompress too. How am I going to stay sane without technology? How was Cole’s punishment not going to turn into punishment for the whole family?“

Cole got his video games back on Friday night, and we all survived. Not only did we survive, we thrived. Taking away his video games for the summer is the BEST thing that could have happened throughout the course of this summer.

Over the course of the summer, I’ve also had many conversations with Heidi as we have run enough miles together to get to Richmond, Virginia (to be exact: 93.45 miles covered on Saturdays this summer). A conversation that always surfaces is parenting. How do we engage our children? How do we preserve their childhood? How do we let them be boys but raise them to be men?

Heidi, once a teacher (always a teacher!) now a full-time mama, so brilliantly said – You have to let them find comfort in boredom. She had witnessed it in her classroom. If she asked a question and got no response, she had to wait out the silence. An answer would be found by her students if she didn’t provide it. As a parent, I’ve become so quick to fix I’m bored that I haven’t given Cole the opportunity to fix his own boredom. I never allowed him the time or the space to let his brain wander. I robbed him of his creativity. I’m bored has been followed up with long lists of suggestions he could say no to. I needed to provide him silence.

If there was ever a time to let Cole explore I’m bored, a month of no technology was that time. He was responsible for the loss of technology; therefore, he needed to be responsible for finding his own forms of entertainment. And do you know what I discovered? An amazingly creative, silly, TALKATIVE eight year old boy.

The first few days of grounding were a bit of a honeymoon. He was happy to play. He was still feeling remorse for his behavior. He was on his best behavior. Once the honeymoon ended, I’m bored found us. As soon as it found us, I waited. I responded by stating that I knew that he was bored, and that he was going to have to get creative. He was going to have to renavigate his eight year old world without technology.

Books were read. A LOT of books were read. He spent days sitting on the coach with his nose in a book. It took us the first half of 2012 to read a portion of a chapter book. He devoured the rest in just a few hours. From that book he created his own dragons. He pretended the dragons lived in our attic too.

He created. Lego renditions of the book Hatchet were created. Airplane. Crash scene. Mountain Side. He included it all. Forts were built. Stuffed animals became friends and partners in crime.

He drew. Drawing has always been his favorite activity. It wasn’t forgotten about over the course of four weeks.

His imagination came alive. I came home from work to find a dog version of Cole living in my house complete with a homemade collar, dog tail, paws, and his very own drinking bowl in our kitchen. The dog lived with us for two days (and our real dog Alex has never had so much attention!).

One month of no technology was meant to serve as a punishment for Cole’s bad decision. While it did serve it’s purpose, it also delivered an even greater message to our family. We rely on technology too often. I’ve used it as a way to keep Cole entertained when I need one less distraction. It’s kept him quiet. Out of Sight. Out of Mind. And before I realized it, he spent a good chunk of his morning playing video games. I don’t give Cole enough credit or enough space (or enough opportunity) to be a child. There will always be moments when I need one less distraction. There will always be times when Cole wants to play video games.

It is my job as Cole’s mom to establish healthy boundaries for the usage of technology in our house. I have not been successful with this task in the past. Going forward, this changes. I owe it to my son to do better.

Technology is now limited to one hour per day in our house. It is up to Cole to manage his usage. He can choose when he wants to play (but not at dinner time!). He can decide what he wants to play. He can decide how he wants to split up the time. The rest of the day is meant for childhood living. It’s meant for exploring I’m bored. And I’m planning on helping him explore.

I can find a way to navigate the evening hours while getting all the “must dos” accomplished (like cooking dinner, homework and bathing) while incorporating Cole. He’s old enough to help prepare dinner. He’s helped the past few nights, and he loves it. He’s not bored. He’s more excited about trying new foods. And his face beams with pride when he knows he has made something yummy. Movie Nights (does this count as technology free?). Art Nights. Game Nights. Go run around and be crazy outside Nights.

Our childhood is such a small portion of our life. I want him to live his childhood. I want him to love his childhood. I want him to explore all parts of his brain so when life demands that he become an adult, he is ready. I don’t want to lose my child behind a screen. I don’t want him to grown up and think life is lived through technology.

I want him to be engaged with the world around him.

Shameless Mom Bragging Moment: I cannot believe how much this process has matured Cole. He never (not once) asked for his video games back. He never complained. He never whined. He accepted the grounding with grace and maturity. I was amazed! And don’t give him nearly enough credit for how much he has grown up.

Running Free

Seven days until race day. I’m smack in the middle of a two-week taper, and I’m feeling strong. I’m feeling healthy. I’m feeling ready. Every time I think about it, I get excited. Race day is right around the corner.

Training for this half marathon began weeks ago. June 11th to be exact. When I think of the journey I’ve been on this summer, I can’t help but feel emotion (blame breast-feeding hormones? life hormones?). In my post, Training Day #1, I finally shed the post baby running label. Training day #1 marked the beginning of my journey back to just running.

Another rain-less run even though a storm was lingering in the distance

Today I tackled an eight mile run. I ran the first 3 miles with my training buddy before we went our own ways to continue to define our own individual levels of strong (She had her own amazing run – and much more inspiring – read it here). While I’m trying to ignore time expectations, I do know that if all the pieces of the puzzle come together perfectly, I can run a sub 2:15 half marathon (a HUGE new PR for me). If I maintain a 10:15 min/mile pace for the race, this will happen. As I set off to run the last five miles on my own, I wanted to see if I could run a 10:15 min/mile by feel. Ignoring my watch, I just ran. I ran what I thought was a 10:15 minute mile. I wanted to feel like I was running strong.

The outcome of my experiment:

Mile 4: 9:56

Mile 5: 1o:04

Mile 6: 9:45

Mile 7: 9:59

Mile 8: 9:49

Good News? Bad News? The good: what I perceived to be a 10:15 output was actually a sub 10 output. The bad: I have no idea what a 10:15 minute mile feels like. The few miles I will be running this week, I will be trying to run a 10:15 pace (paying a little closer attention to my watch) because I’d love to carry that pace for 13.1 miles.

Did I mention my run was gorgeous today!!! We picked a new route and ran along the bay into the state park. (warning: tons of photos below)

Seven more days!!!! and I think it is safe to say I’m just running again! and I survived summer training!