That Awkward Moment When...

I have an infliction... I suspect it's quite a common one....it looks a bit like this.




Stick a camera in front of my face, and I WILL freeze, and almost definitely do something stupid. Like many, if I have to get up and do some kind of public speaking my heart will race and I will stammer and stutter my way through with flamming red cheeks. It may have a little to do with the violin recitals I was often encouraged to do in front of family and friends at home as a child..... only to find the audience laughing the whole way through... but it's also likely it's just a quirk.

Oddly enough since I have had children I have found that so long as they are with me I can sing, dance and generally be silly in public no problems. I'm in the supermarket, pushing a trolley, Miss M is with me, good song comes on the radio, I'm singing. I'm walking though a shopping mall, Miss D feels like a bit of a dance, no worries chick, I'll join you..... But me solo, camera in front of my face, no way, no how.

It doesn't stop me trying. I tried today. I donned some sparkles and demonstrated some stuff on camera... I also lost my power of speech.....and my brain, I lost that too. Camera on, stunned mullet impression, camera off intelligent woman comes back. Guess it might be time to give up that Hollywood actress dream.

Anyone else have this quirk?

Impossible Schimpossible

"Sometimes I believe in as many as six impossible things before breakfast"- Alice Kingsley, Alice in Wonderland

Today I did something that I thought was impossible, and the funny thing is it isn't the first time this month.

I realised a few months back that May was going to be pretty filled with running events. I signed on for True Grit with my sisters way back in January, realising at the time it would be a back to back weekend with the Mothers Day Classic the next day. I signed on for the Color Run a few weeks later, and I had already decided that I would be doing my first Half marathon for the year in May, I just couldn't decide whether it would be the Greenbelt or the Barossa, the former on the first weekend in May, the latter the last. I don't know at what point decided I would do both, and round out May with 5 events, and I am not sure when exactly my big sister decided she'd do it too... but all of a sudden we had Mad May on our hands.

I started with a bang and did my first impossible thing on the first weekend.

I have mentioned before that I have been running off and on (mostly on) since I was 13, I have always believed myself to be a slow runner and in fact it's not even been until last year that I have actually considered myself a "runner". For a long time cracking 5 min kms seemed like an impossiblity, 5.30 has long been a comfortable speed for me. At some point since I completed my first marathon last year my speed has improved. I didn't realise just how much until that first weekend in May. Tatum offered to run with me as a support, she'd done a big run the day before and didn't feel the need to do a PB. I grabbed the opportunity, hoping I'd at least crack two hours. I ran it in 1 hour 44 mins and 24 secs, smashing over 12 mins off my pb. I ran an average of under 5min kms for the whole distance. I was still shaking my head in disbelief at that this morning. There were major high fives and hugs between my sister and I, her support had been amazing, and I guess somewhere in all of that I had forgotten that my legs actually did that running.

The next weekend on the Saturday we tackled True Grit. We completed it in around 1:50 and I was truely knackered and very battered and bruised when I crawled into bed that night. I believed there was no way I would beat my previous best time for the Mother's Day Classic the next day.....but I did, only by about half a minute. But there you have it another "impossible" thing made possible.

The next weekend was a bit of a rest with the Color Run being a short distance that I covered with Luke and the girls in tow. It was a beautiful morning. I must admit though, despite the "rest" I had been feeling pretty tired out this week.

Fast forward to this morning and I had told Luke that I would be happy with anything under 2hrs, because I was running "by myself" this time. Don't get me wrong, I always intended to give a good go of it, I don't enter anything with any other intention. But any runner will tell you that you have your good runs and your bad runs, and I assumed this morning wouldn't be great. I was feeling tired and I was aware that my support runner was going for her PB this morning and I would be doing this one "on my own", and as I said before, I had really forgotten that it had been my own legs that had run those other "impossible" races.

I am waiting on the official time, but it would seem that I crossed the finish line in 1 hour 42 minutes and some seconds this morning. I think it might be time for me to start paying to attention to Lewis Carroll a little more and believing in the impossible.... after all, if you put in the hard work in any area of your life, good things really do happen.

No Words.

I have had no words for a long time now. Since September last year in fact. Time has marched on so quickly over the last few months. After a massive year of goals achieved 2012 ended in a rush, suddenly it was 2013, the days have run together. So many happy days, so much has changed and so much has stayed the same.

I am not going to go into detail about the last few months, the girls have aged another year, D has started the journey of school, there has been sewing, baking, talk of renovations, yoga and oh so much running.... there has been joyous time spent with family, rediscovery and fun, work, warm days in the sun.... and apparently no time for writing.

But the moment has come when I realise I have missed it and it is time to start documenting again... time to find my words again.

Hear Me This

Back in 2010 The Divine Miss M was lucky enough to get a brand spanking new pair of grommets for a first birthday/Christmas present, after the first year of her life being plagued with chronic ear infections. Here she is rocking her gown.... if only all patients looked this cute with their butt hanging out.

We'd been down ths line with Delilah too (I blame Luke's genes!) so I was relatively (we'll as much as my stress head is able) relaxed about the procedure for M.... though I might have had a tear or two, nothing like the blubbering I did when D had hers done, I blame the pregnancy hormones for that. Mackenzie came through her little op fine, and it was a realtively stress free experience. Except for one pesky ear infection that took a few weeks to budge, little M had been infection free since.... until two weeks ago, when her left ear drum perforated.

Her Doctor had mentioned a couple of weeks prior to this that he would likely need to put grommets back in if the fluid in her ear hadn't drained by November..... fast forward a month and he tells me today that she needs to have it done now. He said "How does September 24th sound?" I said "It sounds like my Birthday."

So this year, rather than getting a little op for her birthday/Christmas, she gets one for my birthday instead , in two weeks time. I've been thinking about it all day, and I am feeling quite nervous this time.... how does one tell there coming up to 3 year old that they are going into hospital for an operation? I know this is minor, compared to what other parents have to deal with, but how do I explain it? More importantly, how on earth do I explain to the child who is perpetually "Hoooooooongry" that she can't have breakfast?

D gets it. I told her. "So Kenz is going to hospital to get her ears fixed, ok Mummy!" *shrugs* "Do we still get to have cake?". That was easy to answer.... "In this house there will always be cake on Birthdays". Hmmmmm..... maybe I'll bribe M with the promise of cake.

The Long Run And A Scary Photo Of Me.

24 hours after completing my first ever marathon, I decided to check out the photos Luke had taken of me post run. I was horrified and immediately made them black and white, despitely trying to make myself look better.

Five days post marathon, I'm ready to show a pic to the world (or at least my 17 readers!), because hey, this is what I looked like after running 42.2km, and I need to be proud of that. So here I am in all my sweaty, shattered, fuzzy haired, exhausted, nauseated, tear stained glory.... I'm with my bestie, Gemma, who'd done the half as part of her training for the (gasp!) New York Marathon..... I'm sure she'll be totally thrilled that I have shared this with the world (you'll keep it to yourselves right? All 17 of you!), but hey, next to me she looks like a godess.

So now that I've frightened you, I will spare you all the details of my 4 hour and 23 minute run. However, I do want to share a couple of things I learnt.

1) I learned that determination will get you anywhere you want to go. The lovely Amy of Giggleberry Creations, who is also an avid runner, asked me post race how I'd coped with the pain, how my mind had coped and if I'd wanted to stop. The answer for me was quite simple, I wanted to get to the finish line having run every single step, so the pain was inconsequential, just a side effect of the big picture. Therefore stopping was not an option. I just kept chipping away, knowing that with every step the finish line was gettng closer, and so was my dream.

2) Realising a dream is a very emotional experience. When I reached the little marker that said 1km to go, a big smile crossed my face, and then quite unexpectedly a big lump formed in my throat. I spent the last kilometre fighting back tears as I realised I was going to do what I'd set out to do. It got harder and harded as I got closer to the finish line as more and more people were there clapping me on, telling me how well I was doing, that I was almost there. I could barely look at my family as I ran past them to the finish line, the sight of Luke and the girls almost made me lose it. I grimaced as an old man put a medal over my head at the end, telling me "you deserve this, you've worked hard for it". I held it together until my Luke put his arms around me and said "Baby, I am so proud of you", then I came undone....... probably contributing to making that picture of me above even more unattractive.

The support I have received in the last couple of weeks has absolutely blown me away. I have cried a lot of tears, over these last two weeks, pre and post marathon. The encouragement from people I have never met has warmed my heart. Apparently I have even inspired some to give running a go, or to run further.

What I have achieved with my running isn't for everyone. But having a dream is. Realising your dream is too........ Now what should I aim for next?

The Dramatic Twist In The Marathon Tale

So, just like a Hollywood movie, there always has to be a twist in the epic tale right? Some hurdle that the hero of the story must conquer before they can triumph? Well I have had mine this last week and a half.

Last Tuesday was when I first felt it, an ache in my left knee while running. I didn't think too much of it, these things happen, no big deal. Probably that was the moment when I should have realised that I needed a rest... I had just run 81km over the previous 9 days afterall, plus I was on nightshift. But no, silly me, so close to the finish line, and honestly, a little obsessed, went running again on Wednesday. That is when it started to hurt. By friday, I could only run a kilometre before needing to stop because of the pain. I had a massage after that on Friday, but then only managed 3kms the next morning.... that is when I realised, and heart sinkingly so, that it was time to stop, and heal.

On sunday I grimaced my way through Lollipop Markets, I had a great day, but I was in pain... so much so that immediately after arriving home I dragged my family down the beach so I could go wading in the water footballer style in the hope I could reduce some inflammation. Not suprisingly I got a lot of stares wading around out there with my trackie-daks hitched up as far as they could go.... it actually felt kind of nice though I will admit.

Because at this stage I'd put myself on a running ban until Wednesday I made arrangements to go swimming at the aquatics centre on Monday night with a friend... but sadly as my style is a bit crap, my kicking motion still made my knee hurt. That is when my friend convinced me to make an appointment with a physio. I couldn't get in until Thursday.

On Tuesday a care package arrived express post in my letter box care of the lovely Shan from Missy Melly . Shan is a woman of many talents, one of which is that she is a qualified acupuncturist. My care package contained adhesive anti-inflammatories and a diagram of where to put them and instructions explaining how to use them. I cried. Big gulping hard to breath cried. I've only ever "met" this beautiful woman virtually and she cared enough to send me this. How awesome is this world. How awesome is she.

Shan's method worked brilliantly for me and by wednesday afternoon I was relatively pain free.... until my test run of 5kms. It was highly uncomfortable. But still an improvement on the weekend. Could I run 42kms in this kind of pain? Maybe.

I sat with ice last night trying to will my knee better.

This morning I hurt again.

In my 17 years or so of running I have never had running related knee pain. To say I was starting to feel scared this morning is an understatement. But by now I'd made up my mind that I was doing my marathon no matter what.

I walkied into the physio today and said. I am running the Adelaide Marathon on Sunday, I seem to have developed runner's knee in the past week. I hurt, but I need to run this marathon. She said the words I needed to hear "Ok. Let's see what we can do".

So after an inital assessment of my knee, she said there was no damage to my knee and I "will be fine to run my marathon on Sunday". RELIEF. My problem turned out to be a ridiculously tight quad that was restricting movement in my knee cap, causing the pain. She suspected that night shift had made me too tired to recover properly..... stupid night shift.

I'd like to say she massaged my leg, but that conjurs some kind of relaxing, candle lit, soft music kind of senario... I would more liken it too tenderising a piece of meat. I love a tough massage but this was literally breath-taking, eye screwing up pain. Then she stuck in about 12 acupuncture needles and repeatedly pricked me with some kind of aparatus, kind of like aerrating a lawn. Then she strapped my knee, carefully showing me how to do it myself....and the best bit, gave me strict instructions to make my husband massage my thigh every night. Awesome.

I was then sent off, feeling immediately better and having been told to run tonight to see how it felt.

Adelaidians will know how the weather is tonight.... cold, pouring with rain and very windy. I strapped on my shoes and ran... some of the run was a little uncomfortable, but mostly it was fine, especially the further I went. WOW! I cried...as I do.

I suspect tomorrow I will feel like a train wreck in the thigh region, but right now, all I can do is smile. It was always going to hurt, now probably a little more so, but, that marathon is still within my grasp.

Moments Like This.

I had a kitchen sponge throwing incident today. I'm on night shift. Night shift makes me feel like I am walking around in a big fog, the cummulative sleep deprivation really starts to make me nuts as the week moves on. Currently I'm half way through, 2 nights down, 2 to go, so the sponge throwing was a little unexpected, it's more of a Thursday thing.

Hours later, I'm not exactly sure why I did it. The house was quiet, Delilah was at kindy, Mackenzie was down for her nap, I'd just gotten up from my 3 hour sleep to tide me over until tomorrow morning... I should have been all good. But no, one minute I'm doing the dishes, and the next minute I am going postal and throwing the kitchen sponge in my poor husband's general direction while ranting about everything that I felt needed to be done right that second and kind of hyperventilating. To Luke's credit, he stayed quite calm, and came and gave me a hug, and told me everything would be ok, I guess he's a bit used to me after almost 12 years. I ranted for a bit longer. Then calmed down.

I have moments like this every now and then, really it's not suprising I'm having one this week, no sleep, a big market coming up on the weekend and the Marathon only a week and a half a way, realistically a crazy moment was probably over due. However, it's always perplexing to look back on a moment like that, and just go "What was that about?".

Since that moment, I have done some crafting, had a coffee with my Mother's Group and been out for a walk along the beach at sunset. Now I'm calm again, and the moment has passed... I'm sure it won't be the last time though, but for now I'm ready to push on.