The Power of Two

I haven't blogged in a long time... I have written quite a few, but none I felt were publishable as they were so unbelievably dull or so unbelievably morose. People didn't need to hear me moaning about my lack of sleep, crying children, lack of waist, fat ankles etc etc.

However life is beginning to slightly resemble normality again now..nearly 6 months after our second little boy was welcomed into the world. My labour was yet again a textbook example of how not to give birth. I read books, I went to classes, I met midwives, but still I had another disastrous time which left my body battered, scarred and both of us mentally traumatised. As I lay on the operating table loosing nearly all my blood, my beloved husband sitting beside me, holding my new baby who was just staring quietly at me with the biggest blue eyes. I stared right back, holding onto my life because nothing was going to stop me seeing this little man growing up.

So after a prolonged and rather painful stay in hospital I was eventually released by weeping at the nurses station whilst holding on to my husbands arm saying 'I am not letting him go, till I can go too!' The after care was really appalling and left me very tired and drained before I even got home.

Life with two under two has been hard hard work. Much harder than I had ever envisaged. Having an enormous baby who is off the scale in weight has been challenging to feed and into the mix the most active and high maintenance toddler in London has left me weeping some days as I try to do the best by both of them and fail miserably! However here we are, we have all survived, limbs intact (that's always my main aim of the day), smiles/grimaces on our faces and I have just started weaning baby. Toddler is now talking and slightly less fearful of every old granny we meet so life is getting easier every day.

First '8 miler' back-almost killed me!

My saving grace in all of this mayhem has been as ever my running. Split abdominals has meant hours of boring exercises and though my stomach still looks like my Granny's  at least the muscles are now working again and my back is supported. This meant very little running till a few months ago. This did my head in and I felt physically and mentally depressed when I couldn't get my exercise fix in everyday. I was aiming to do an ultra at the end of November, but am still feeding the baby round the clock, haven't got enough long runs in and to be really truthful don't feel able to commit to something which means leaving the baby for more than a couple of hours yet.



Someone else loves to run too

So I have slowly ramped up my mileage, man alive the first 4 weeks hurt. I couldn't even run round a corner without pain and 3 miles seemed like a lifetime. But having small children has taught me patience (well as much as I will ever have) and I have taken it really easy both on my body and on my mind. Desperate to hammer out the miles and feeling guilty if I miss a run because husband is late home or a baby is clingy, I now feel much more relaxed about my training and try to look at the overall week rather than every day individually. I set myself a mileage target to do each week and if I meet it good on me, if not I just try again next week. The great thing about ultra training is that the slower I run the better so early morning or evening plods are all good parts of the jigsaw.

I have my first 'race' middle of January, hopefully by then baby will be on solids and I will have got in a couple of 30 milers really more for my confidence than anything else. Its amazing how having children and all their unpredictability can totally knock your own self esteem and belief in your self. This is what running and training is slowly giving back to me over the past few months. A belief that my body can do amazing things again, a feeling of freedom and power as I move silently through the early morning mist and most of all the spring in my step again as I turn the corner to home, my boys and my life as an ultra mum.

I'm desperate

I'm desperate

I'm desperate to see my feet again

To move without grunting

To wear clothes without elasticated waist bands apart from my cycling shorts

To not be ashamed when I look in the mirror

To feel the wind in my hair as I move faster than a shuffle

To have some time with just me, not carrying a baby either on the hip or in the belly

To feel the first painful shudders of contractions signally my baby is coming..

To feel that great sense of achievement after a day of hard training

To bring  a new baby safely into the world and into the womb of our family

To make my husband proud by labouring with courage and the most determination I can conjure

To start life as a family of four



It is always worth every second....!

To show my children what they can achieve in their life when they put their mind, body and soul into something

To enjoy every last second of being with my one baby who I love more and more everyday

To not complain, as I have friends who have lost babies, cant have babies ever or desperate for babies and I know how lucky we are to be such a happy and blessed family

Lunchtime madness

I have just spent half an hour clearing up lunch, no lunch was actually eaten (well not by toddler, I of course didnt miss a morsel!). He was in a mood from the moment we went from car to pram, from pram to shop, to shop to car and back home. Queues in the bank and then me dropping milk all over Waitrose floor (thank goodness it was Waitrose, the staff practically clean you up too) meant we were on time faults and so no play park or run around. I rarely take him anyway in the pram now as he loves walking so much, but it is such an effort and today I just didnt have the energy to go up every single step and shut every single gate. Lunch was therefore a screaming fest, everything rejected, everything thrown. I grit my teeth as I see my clothes, my floor, sofa get covered knowing that losing it will do nothing but increase the rage. Its so frustrating for him and me, words are coming, but they are his own little language at the moment and I cant work out what he wants. I try, I really do to be patient and understanding, but sometimes I just want to howl with frustration myself, this is my life, this endless coping with tantrums, screaming and mess. Sometimes I lie down on the floor myself and howl, other times I just let silent tears drip as I cant do anything right and am trying so hard. And then I get a smile, or a kiss given without asking,  a new word or delight in a new found game. And my world is sunshine again, life is good, I love being a Mum, oh and arent I the best Mum? Look how happy and wonderful my toddler is, struggling? Not me!

All my years in sport and coping with racing and training high and lows are nothing compared to a day with a toddler. The only comparison I can make is to riding up hills on my bike. A friend once said to me, just remember no hill can go on forever....so I used to repeat that as I grinded up some particular favourites and I remember that again now....none of this will  last forever and what seems like uphill, soon turns to downhill, free wheeling, with the wind in your face, feeling refreshed, revived, you forget about the pain, you are ready to face another hill, another grind....it wont last forever and you'll almost miss it when its done.

Keeping it real

I hate New Year, I love Christmas. I get ridiculously over excited, spend weeks planning, buying gifts, wanting to get everything right till hubby eventually sends me out of the house to calm down! Christmas comes and goes and by 27th I feel myself sinking into post party blues. New Year does nothing for me, especially 5 months pregnant, I can hardly fit in some of my maternity clothes let alone a party dress!

I tried a little run again as my legs were itching and desperate for some action. It felt OK, but its so slow and I cover such a paltry distance I am not sure I can be bothered again. This is the first Christmas for 15 years I haven't been training for something. I feel beyond frustrated and grumpy that I have nothing to focus upon apart from getting fatter, more tired and more cranky! I want to be out with my friends, on my bike, in my trainers, getting my heart beating hard and feeling that gorgeous post exercise smug glow of satisfaction.

But then I take stock of what I have. Woman man up. You have a wonderful family, a gorgeous little boy who is the light and life of my life, another one on the way and the most amazing husband anyone could ask for. In this world we live in we are always wanting everything and we want it now. We live on credit, material gains, how we look is how we are judged to be good people, happy people. So what if I cant be doing exactly what I want to do for the next few months? I have years ahead of me to do my hobbies (and that is all they are at the end of the day). You are only pregnant with that child for such a short period, sit back and enjoy. Let the pressure of trying to look right, do the right thing, be the right person go by. Enjoy this quiet period, this enforced slow time, lets others pick up the pace. Ill be back out there, just because I'm in my stretchy pants right now doesn't mean this mama hasn't still got some athletic fires burning!

Happy New Year to all, make it your year, with your goals, no one elses, enjoy every moment -be it slow or fast and most of all live your dreams life is too short for what ifs.

Not running anywhere with my baby!

20 weeks pregnant and time to call a halt on running. Its been pretty sporadic 'running' the last few months anyway with morning sickness not allowing for anything speedier than a dash to the loo. Once I started feeling better I was determined to try and keep in shape, but it has been much harder. Running has seemed unnatural and painful and rather than enjoying it,  I have spent most of the time convincing myself that its not sore and I am fine. But on Sunday, it really did feel bad. I felt like I needed to hold my stomach as I ran and the next day was so sore I couldn't even walk a mile without twinges. So that's it, I just have to face the facts that this time round I may be getting a few pounds heavier and wont be in as good as shape coming out of pregnancy as last time, but really in the whole scheme of things whats a few months of lard carrying between friends?! Pregnancy books and midwives tell you to walk as one of the best forms of exercise and I do walk miles everyday with the pram, but its just not the same as the high I get from a run however slow or short.

I have packed up my training kit, ready for May next year, when I will squeeze myself back into it again and set out on another long road to fitnessville. I miss wearing my sports kit, I miss hanging out with my buddies post training rides and runs, stuffing ourselves with lattes and muffins and the endless bragging of who got dropped when. But I have it all to look forward to again (though there might be less time for latte sipping)  I feel much more confident in the ability of my body to bounce back, about nursing my baby while exercising and my husbands ability to hold the fort while I have some Mum time!

So for the next few months, it will be power walking with my baby. He can pretty much power walk next to me now, though his ability to stay in the same direction or follow the path can lead to some rather frustrating circular routes! He loves to walk, to run, to pick up and throw anything he can get his hands on. He is completely fearless and would happily stay outside 24/7 if he had the chance. I seem to be the mum who is always at the bottom of the slide come rain or shine watching another skill be mastered-completely ignored until needed for a helping hand or to be shown a particularly large stick! I wouldn't have it any other way, I hope he has inherited my love for the outside and activity and if I have to slow down for the next few months it will just give me more time to watch  the little strong boy I am so proud of getting stronger and stronger everyday.

You Win Some You Lose Some!

This week has probably been the toughest yet in my new career as a Mum. Baby has been sick, really sick for the last 6 days and nothing I could do or say would help. I have new found respect for families who have really ill children all the time, how exhausting and how dedicated the parents must be. After just 6 days I feel completely battle weary, I cannot stand to hear another whine, change another set of clothes, be hit, clean up snot covered mess or cook anymore tempting meals to have them thrown onto the floor in disgust.

My biggest mistake to make, as always, and one I constantly do, is to put adult human emotions onto my little baby. He has never coughed before, had a chest so full of gunk he cant breathe or a headache and achingly dry lips. Even though all of this is new to him, I get frustrated that he wont do what is best for him. Why does he not just sit quietly with me and read a book, why does he need to pull everything out of the cupboard and then slam the door on his hand? Why does he need to throw his head back in rage against the wall until finally he gives it such a crack he ends up howling. These are his ways of expressing his dismay in feeling so terrible, but to me they seem an addition to an already highly demanding and stressful situation, of the all consuming sick toddler.

Being a stay at home mum means I have had no respite all week, not wanting to lurgy any of my friends and not up to play dates we have spent hours inside, him slowly getting better, while I got iller with said cold and more exhausted from night screaming (him not me!). I have found the constant demands  physically hard, but hey I'm a strong cookie, its the unexpected mental drain of not being able to do anything right, in fact doing everything wrong and no reward for a long day apart from a still fractious and ill baby.

In my previous life I have always been able to control situations, work wise I liked nothing better than chairing a meeting and making decisions (ask my department!) and in training thrived on a dedicated and demanding schedule. But here I am now, melted down to the bare bones of me, nothing to show for my week, but a son who has now turned a corner and is happily out shopping with Dad and me a frazzled, worn out and cranky mummy!

That's the hardest thing, I think I have probably worked harder this week than in any of my working weeks or training units and I have nothing to show. I feel a sense of guilt that I haven't really achieved anything this week or been a particularly good wife and lets not lie, we all like praise and recognitions, but none will be coming my way. The only person to say thank you for that, you did an OK job (debatable!) is me.  And so, I will.

Gone are the days when I had trophies and targets to show my talents but I have a family, a medal so special, yet so demanding that only those lucky enough to also have this gift in life will understand. I'm beginning to understand  you don't need the thanks, you don't need to prove you are a worthwhile being by being a high achiever, you just need to know in your heart, when the going got tough you did the best you did and it all worked out in the end.

All quiet on the running front....

So radio silence needs to be broken.

This is the first time I have sat down at my laptop properly for 3 months. I just havent been able to face it. Just been too sick, too tired and too depressed. So unlike my normal self and so draining when accompanied by a cheery 14 month old companion. Reason being....I am expecting another baby! 'Hurrah' I hear you shout.....'Crikey  those two will be close!' Gulp, yes they will, but hey so many positives can be drawn from having a close sibling, I am testamant to that. Who needs sleep and rest when you can just be surrounded by babies 24/7!

I have been hit with mindblowing morning sickness (a term clearly defined by a man as I have been sick all hours of the day), it really has been truely the worse few months of my life, the delight of being pregnant again has only just eclipsed the terrible all encompassing sickness which has left me weeping, weak and wobbly everyday for weeks on end. However the cloud seems to have passed and though I still feel the occasional clutch of nausea I have suddenly come back into the real world and am able to begin living again rather than just surviving.

So running has taken a miserable back seat.....funnily enough the last time I ran properly was my 100mile week in Scotland when I didnt know I was pregnant and since then have only managed a handful of 5kms, not just because I was so sick, but for the first time in my life running actually made me feel worse. So unlike the me of old I listened to my body and have just 'let it go' allowing my body to channel all its energy into creating a new little being and allowing my hormones free rein to run wild!

I am now itching to get back moving again which I think is always the sign to get going again. Running comes easy to me and even after a 10 week break I managed an easy 5 miles and then 7 miles at the weekend. I keep my heart rate below 150 which means running painfully slowly, biting back my competitive instinct and the temptation to power up hills and take on that random male runner who always has a point to prove. But as with last pregnancy I have lost the will to push myself to the limit..'doing' exercise is enough, bit of fresh air, bit of a sweat on and that will do.

And now second time around....there is no time off, no sneaky lunchtime swims, no nanny naps (well a few!). I am exhausted running around after baby who is in the prime of life as a toddler - the no fear, maximum danger phase. But it is also a super fun phase, he is interacting, popping out the odd word - 'Burleeeeeease' when he wants some of my snacks and 'ball' which of course had both Dad and I glowing with pride!

So I will do my best knowing that coming out of this pregnancy it might take a bit longer to get fit again. To keep me dreaming I have set some big goals for 2013 including a gold medal which still eludes me and on my slow plods I imagine now not one mini cheer leader, but two, shouting their Mum on and longing to get away so they can go and play football!