I AM a Runner.

For years I have worked out. Sporadically. Regularly. Not much. A lot. A little. Anywhere in between. I just feel better when I do. I need it.

Pregnancy and post-pregnancy made it a lot more difficult, though. I had issues. A lot of issues. I had pain. I suffered from post-partum depression. I had a baby with reflux and colic, and I (we) didn't sleep. Regardless, though, I still found a way to do "something". For a long time I "just" participated in "Stroller Strides", a mommy and baby exercise class. It was great physically, socially, mentally...you name it. But, eventually it stopped being "enough". Eventually I felt I was pushing more than the instructors. I was looking for "more".

Now, in all the years that I have been active and an athlete, I have never been a "runner". I have run up to a mile or so, but it was just a part of my workout...not THE workout. I have always had reasons for not embracing running: I don't have a runner's body; I have had too many injuries and surgeries; I just don't enjoy it; I am in pain. And, I guess by reasons I really mean "excuses". The truth is, running is hard. Really hard, especially in the beginning.

But, at some points in life some of us have an awakening of sorts. I know that recently I experienced just that. My best friend and I were chatting on the phone a few months ago, and we both had the same complaints....we wanted to more for ourselves from an active lifestyle / cardiovascular exercise standpoint. So, we made a pact. We would be each other's long distance motivators. We would post our activity weekly and give each other updates. We would force ourselves to be ACCOUNTABLE! And, it worked.

I started with a mile at a time. A very slow mile. A long hard-fought mile. Which lead to 2 miles. Which lead to 3. Which lead to 4. Then 5. And 6. I began by running (huffing and puffing and blowing houses down) about 2 to 3 times a week, pushing a toddler in a stroller as I went along. As I got "better", I realized that I REALLY liked running alone, with my iPod barking me on in my ears, early in the morning before most people are out and about. So, sometimes I take time out to do just that. Other times I still push that stroller companion during a mid-morning jaunt. I am able to do it, even with all of my aches and pains...a bad foot, a bad shoulder. I have run farther than I ever thought I could. I run flat stretches, and I run hills. I CHOOSE to run hills. I run almost every other day, with a few 2 day breaks in between. I run outside. I run on a track. I run in the park. I run at the gym on a treadmill.

I used to tell everyone, even recently, that I am NOT a runner. I would tell them that I am not fast, and I am not very good at it. Then something happened. I realized after logging over 100 miles in my first 2 months that I AM a runner. It doesn't matter that I am not super-fast (although I HAVE gotten faster). It doesn't matter that I don't have a "typical" runner's body or legs. It doesn't matter that I am not running marathons. All that matters is THAT I RUN. AND, YOU KNOW WHAT??? I DO!

I feel good. I look better. I feel proud. I feel STRONG! Just yesterday I ran 6 miles in 63 minutes and 19 seconds. I ran my last 1.25 miles at clips between 6.0 and 7.5 mph. A little over a week ago I ran a 5K mud run...all off-road running with military style obstacles, hills, mud pits, and you name it. And, I finished. And, I never walked a second of it. Not one. Not even the brutal hills.

That's because I am a runner, you see. I run, therefore, I AM A RUNNER!

Signs of Summer...By Dad.

I love being a dad. Sure, it's tough. But it is far more fulfilling than tough on any given day. Today was one of those days. Today Megan captured these photos, which illustrate a sure sign of summer. A dad and his daughter sharing buttery corn on the cob.

Tonight Finnley had her corn (shaved off of the cob) for dinner. When she finished her own she wanted mine which was still on the cob. As you can see she dove right in. Buttery face and all. Full of giggles as I made funny noises. She kept coming back for more and I obliged. We shared. We laughed. We bonded. We loved.

The little things...

Sometimes it is the little things, the sweet and raw moments, that bring about the most joy. We witnessed that during Finnley and Batman's impromptu sprinkler party in the front lawn the other night. The two of them were certainly in their element, and we just looked upon with scene with utter fondness. My heart just grew exponentially bigger during this tiny blip in time. I have a beautiful daughter, a funny (and overly loyal and tolerant) dog, and an fun-loving and amazing husband to thank for that.

Prepare to embrace the bliss.

Crazy Person

Self-described, as it were. Can't help myself. I don't sit still. There have been a ton of "little things" around the house that I have been meaning to do for some time now. And, when I get my mind set on doing something, I just can't seem to stop until EVERYTHING is done. And, by "everything" I mean EVERYTHING! I am sure it drives my husband insane at times, but he also gets to reap the benefits of the end results. And, in the case of the "Death by Oreo" cupcakes, I don't think he can complain TOO much. So, my projects are all put to rest, and Finnley and I are back to doing just our regular overly-busy-all-week-long sorts of stuff. Here is a glimpse at just a few of the multitude of things I have recently done.

The perfect gift.

My birthday present to America is a video for the blog. That sounds good, right?  Well, I have never been great at giving the perfect gift.  (Matt really did need a new pink sweater vest for 75% off.  It was ideal for yard work on the weekends, I swear!)  Oh well, what can I say?  Regardless...here is America's birthday present! Enjoy!

Fourth of July

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AMERICA!!!
Love, Finnley

When?

When did she become such a big girl? I swear it happened out of the blue. And recently, too. I don't remember her saying so much so clearly...or looking so wise. Not truly a Peanut anymore. Perhaps more a widening and heightening bean stalk? I don't know, but I do know that she isn't a baby. And, she isn't even "little". Regardless, she becomes more entertaining, silly, and perfect every day. I still don't want more children, and I also do not want to freeze us into this instant. I am, however, surprised at how much changes in such short spurts of passing time.

Life is (as ever) never dull, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I wouldn't have her any other way.

Better late than never???

Vacation has come and gone. It was beautiful while it lasted. What am I saying? It was BEYOND beautiful. It was awesummerific! (new word, soon to be picked up by Webster, I'm certain). Sometimes coming home from vacation and getting back "into it" can be difficult. Oddly enough, though, we were home on a Friday night and totally unpacked before even going to bed that same night. So, I guess that part wasn't hard. The laundry was done over the course of the next two days, and the lawn work was put to rest, too. I was back at my fitness routine (although, I never really took off during vacation, as I logged 10 miles of running while away). Finnley and I even managed to get out and do our usual fun friend-outings and classes. Ok, so maybe it wasn't so difficult afterall! The only thing I have been slacking at is the blog. Bad me!! Bad me!!! I think I have just been so busy during Finn's nap time that I don't commit to the updates. And, when bed time rolls around for her, I really just want to decompress. Typing, thinking, prosing, musing, editing...whatever it is that I do...does not really fall into the decompression category.

And, for all of those reasons (and the fact that I possibly suck just a little), I didn't post a "Happy Father's Day" post to my husband. I should say that I didn't publish that post in a timely manner. Because? Because HERE I AM NOW doing just that. Better late than never, right? RIGHT (so says me) !



Without a husband committed to me and to the rigorous and emotionally-draining trials and tribulations of becoming a parent, there would be no Finnley. And, without Finnley we wouldn't be celebrating these hauntingly simple yet incredibly special holidays during the overly-filled up Hallmark-calendar year. So, thank you to my husband for sticking by me during a very difficult journey to parenthood. Thank you for wanting to be a daddy as much as I wanted to be a mommy. Thank you for seeing the humor in our painful journey, as levity is the only medicine that works sometimes. Thank you for appreciating what a gift we were given even on the hardest of days. I am a lucky wife to have you as a husband. Finnley is a lucky girl to have you as a dad. Batman even thinks you are the cat's meow dog's bark. Our little family is perfect in all of its imperfections, and I am grateful for that notion every day. I hope you know how much you are loved and appreciated. You put yourself out there in your workouts, your work, your everyday character, your life in general...all with the thought of your family front and center in your mind. Just know that this is never lost on me...on us. So, on this (belated) Father's Day...happy day to you!



Now that I am sort of caught up with laundry, house-cleaning, workouts, being a mom, diaper-changing...you name it...I hope to be "around" a bit more. Most of you who continue to read this blog know that I am never gone for long, so thanks for sticking around and following our "whatever it is" life. As an added bonus for your patience in waiting for a new post, I have updated the sidebar to include a slideshow of our Outer Banks vacation pictures. Enjoy, and you are welcome!

Come again soon...I am sure I will have something of little to great importance to say!

Good thing that I am the one doing the packing...

We are headed out to the Outer Banks (OBX), North Carolina. A family vacation to the truest extent. We will be hosting my parents, sister, brother-in-law, two nephews, one of my best friends, her husband, and their son. For one whole week. Phew! We cannot wait. Finnley cannot wait! (well, she doesn't really know she is going or what it all means, but if she did know...she would be beyond excited! TRUST ME!)

I spent the whole day running around, doing laundry, packing, packing some more, getting sprayed tan (seriously, it is necessary as the whitest woman on the planet), organizing other stuff, then packing that other stuff, then packing a few more stuffs. You get the idea. Who hasn't done it? Adding a kiddo to the mix certainly complicates the whole process, but in the end it is obviously all worth it.

The one thing I am still thankful for at this point, though? That "said kiddo" cannot pack for herself. If it was up to her, she would be wearing clunky pink rain boots with skirts on a 90 degree humid hell-oven of a day. You know, just like she did today.

For the record, I am leaving the rain boots at home. Shhhhhh....don't tell Finnley!

See you all when we return!

The end of the world.

Seemingly, anyway.

To Finnley, skinned knees just might be enough to bring about the apocalypse. In any event, they certainly did bring about lots of tears, some exaggerated puffy-cheeked huffing, and a definite need for numerous "huggles".

I hate to see what a "real" injury might do to her. Or to me, as a witness to the spectacle. Let's hope it never happens, and we never have to find out. I like utopia. Yes, utopia will suit us just fine, thank you.

Since that might not be an entirely realistic possibility, though, I will make sure to go into this summer armed with lots of pink frilly band-aids and loads of healing mommy kisses. That just might get us by!

Traditions...

This post is from me, the hubby. The dad.

Growing up there was a sacred tradition during Memorial Day weekend, The 4th of July, and flag day. That tradition was decorating the yard with small American Flags. Evenly placed down the sidewalk.

I can hear my dad now. "Let's go put the flags out!" Typically that phrase was belted out early in the morning because many know my father is not one to sleep in. This routine took place every year. We never missed a year. Ever.

Well, this weekend I brought that tradition to our home in Jersey; Albeit a little later than when I used to have to do it because it turns out my daughter does enjoy sleeping in. When we retuned from the farmer's market, I asked Finnley if she wanted to help daddy put the flags out. I was met with a sweet little "yes" from my girl.

So off we went with the flags. At first she wanted to pull them out of the yard. But then she quickly got the hang of it. She had more fun running the flags around and watching them blow in the wind, but I think she gets the idea.

So I have a couple of messages:

To Finnley: Squirt (as I affectionately call her), we will be doing this twice a year for the next bazillion years, or until you are married with a family of your own.

To Dad: Thanks for starting so many meaningful traditions when I was growing up. I love being able to carry them on with your granddaughter. That not only includes "putting the flags out" but also making her peanut butter/mayo/fried egg & cheese sandwiches for breakfast. And cheering for the Buckeyes. And skiing (staring in 2012). And believing in Santa.

Happy Memorial Day everyone!