Running Ragged

While serious athletes are running, biking or lifting weights to get in shape for their upcoming races, my training schedule includes stumbling barefoot onto small, pointy, hard-plastic animals (rhinoceroses and triceratops come to mind), startling awake four or more times a night to the blood-curdling screech of a toddler, and eternally attempting to finish a sentence.

How on earth does this get me in better shape, you ask?  It's simple.  The daily rigamarole of parenting, with all of its trials and its challenges, actually makes me stronger, hardier, more tenacious.

OK, I'm nowhere near a serious athlete.  I'm not a racer. I'm a finisher.  I've (slowly) completed a few half-marathons and a handful of sprint triathlons.  "Sprint" refers to the length of the race (short) and not the speed I race them.  I am definitely not sprinting.  Lollygagging might be a more accurate term.  If they offered lollygag triathlons, I'd sign up for those.

Even before I had children, I undertrained. I'd search online for training schedules, find the easiest one, and then remove anything that looked difficult or complicated (hill repeats, track workouts, any of those "10 x 300" thingies), until I came up with a manageable schedule.  Then I would go forth with my modified schedule, and proceed to cheat on that.  This type of training allowed me to be just prepared enough to make it across the finish line without quiiite puking.

But since having kids, the training schedules I find online look completely out of whack with my reality. When could I possibly find time to do all of that?  So this time, I chucked the suggested schedule and created from scratch a schedule that fits into my busy life.  I named this schedule "Jodi's Barely-Crawl-Over-the-Finish-Line Training Schedule."  It's perfectly doable and nowhere near the level of training I would need to finish an event comfortably.

Aha, but here is where my Secret Training Weapon comes in...  My kids.

It's true!  Before having kids, my long runs were exhausting.  I felt like I had to wring out every last drop of energy just to finish the final mile.  Now, those same runs seem so tranquil -- such a reprieve! -- I barely notice I'm running.  It's amazing!  I can think in complete sentences.  There are no tiny people tugging on my shirt, beseeching, "Mommy... Mommmmy... MOMMMMMMYYYYY!"

My first race after giving birth to my son was a 10K.  I placed 2nd in my age division. Ok, there were only like five people in my age division, but still.  My time for the race was a personal record.  Why?  I had gotten tougher.  I was able to push myself a little harder through the entire race.  For that I thank my pint-sized personal trainer, who woke us up crying (I'm sure it was a motivational yell) every hour or two all night long for two months, refused to ever ride in a stroller, and screamed non-stop each and every time he was strapped into his carseat.

So, while serious athletes work to increase their aerobic capacity, I'm increasing my discomfort capacity.  This week my training has included spending four hours -- starting at midnight -- trying to cajole my daughter into going back to sleep, 20 sets of my son yelling, "she hit me!" and 40 reps of my daughter flinging food across the dining room.

Luckily, like successfully finishing an event can make all those training runs seem like they were worth it, at the end of the day when I give my kids a snuggle, kiss them goodnight, and tuck them in (the first time), I feel lucky to have these puny yet uncompromising trainers.  They motivate me to be a stronger, more patient, and kinder person.  For that I am truly grateful.

That said, I really hope they've remembered to build some rest days into my schedule.