In addition to the pics already posted, I got some video on our camping trip as well – including our girl milking a cow. Adventures!
Hi sweet sleeping bear and Happy 63 months! You are snuggled up in your fleece pajamas, warm in your bed tonight. The last time your wore those same fleece pajamas though, it was a different story – you were neither in bed nor warm. We were camping with our beloved Valles friends, and I’m not sure we’ve ever been so cold for so long!
I imagine part of the reason we felt so cold was the shock of it. The week before we went camping, it was still steamy and warm in Savannah. We were headed up to Enota, one of our favorite north Georgia mountain campgrounds, and I had checked the weather forecast. Sure, the forecast told me it would be in the upper 30s at night. And that was the forecast for the city near Enota – I should’ve known that meant the campground would be even colder. I should’ve known we’d need every bit of our winter gear. But I was still sweating in Savannah, and the gloves and hats just seemed ridiculous, so I left them behind.
I’m SO sorry.
So, we froze, but thankfully that’s not the camping story you will remember. This was your fourth camping adventure, and you have taken to it remarkably well. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that this campground has three in-ground trampolines, a great playground and a farm, or that you had two of your favorite playmates for company. You didn’t even complain about the cold – you were too busy camping.
And while the campground has lots of kid-amenities, what I enjoyed best was watching you, Nia and Nate just play. Forget the trampolines and playground – some of your favorite times were spent playing some game by the creek that you all called “Rocko.” Best I could tell, it involved cleaning leaves off of rocks with sticks. And according to you, it was SO FUN.
Then there were the times the three of you zipped yourselves up in the tent to play. At one point, you were dolphins being attacked by sharks, and there was much shrieking and thrashing. Followed by lots and lots of giggles. Perfect.
And then there was the night sky, the breathtaking number of stars, so clear on those crisp (freezing cold) nights. And there were s’mores. Oh the s’mores!
Sometimes camping is a hassle. Packing takes days, sometimes it rains, sometimes it’s hot, sometimes we’re cold. Sometimes the campfire wood is too damp to light. Sometimes the bugs bite.
But the trade off – to spend two days just playing, just enjoying nature – absolutely worth it.
And you agree. Despite how poorly we slept and despite how cold we were Sunday morning, you teared up when it was time to go. I thought you were crying because you were so cold, but when I asked what was wrong you said, “I don’t want to leave.”
We’ll camp again soon my love, and this time I pledge to pack the jackets if it’s going to be cold!
This last month we enjoyed another outdoor activity – running! You still like to run, organizing races any time you encounter a long stretch of open space – a park, the beach, the sidewalk in front of you. Since your passion for the sport hasn’t faded,
I decided you needed some athletic shoes.
So we went shoe shopping. We narrowed the selection down to two pair – they both fit well and were cute, so I nudged you in the direction of the purple pair because they were on sale. You obliged.
The next day I brought those shoes with me when I picked you up from school so we could run home in them. As you sat on the sidewalk, stuffing your mary janes in your bookbag and sliding on the new athletic shoes, you gushed, “Mama, I’m SO glad we got these shoes!”
“Why is that?” I asked, assuming you thought they’d make you run faster, or just because they were cute.
“Because they were the better price!” you said. THAT’S MY GIRL.
You had a chance to wear them in an official race last month – your second race! – when the YMCA hosted a 5K and a quarter-mile kiddie run. This time I decided to do the kiddie run with you so I wouldn’t miss out, and I’m so glad I did.
The race day atmosphere was a bit different this time. The previous race only had a handful of children signed up, but the start line of this quarter-miler was packed and humming with pre-race excitement. I knew from our after-school runs that you were more of a sprinter (as I imagine most 5-year-olds are). You love to take off fast, but then stop pretty quickly to rest and catch your breath. I told you it was ok to take breaks on our run if you needed to, and that everyone who crossed the finish line was a winner.
When the race began, you zoomed ahead and I actually had to speed up to catch you.
About halfway through the course though, you started slowing down and I was preparing to stop. But you kept moving, and as we entered the final stretch you even turned up the heat, passing kids in your pursuit of the finish line.
At one point, you reached up to hold my hand, and it was all I could do not to sob like a baby.
I’m not even sure why it made me so emotional, running a race with you, but it did. I was very proud of your determination, and you were proud too. “Did you see all the kids I passed?!” you said, huffing at the finish line, clutching your red participant’s ribbon.
I did see! I would have been proud of you for getting out there and racing even if you’d been the last one to cross the finish line. But something about watching you run with such determination and joy made me a very happy mama.
Thank you for another great month. For your infectious enthusiasm for camping, for nature, for running, for achieving. For being you. I love you so much.
Camille’s class created a video for a contest to win money for the school’s music program from the TV show Glee. I’m totally biased, but I happen to think the video of her class singing “Firework” is adorable (and features Camille twice – yippee!).
The video with the most votes wins, and you can vote once per day between now and November 7. Click here to view the video (her class is the Ellis Bobcats) and vote!
This is the last archive post – after this one I’ll be up to blogging about running in real time. The following post was written on August 17. Here we are, two months later, and I still prefer the long run. Although I must say, I did 11 miles on Saturday and it was the first long run that really felt like too much. In my Runkeeper notes from that day I said my legs fell off around mile 9 and I had to slither the rest of the way on my belly. I’m hoping I was just having an off day. We’ll find out soon enough – one more long run on the training schedule until 13.1 miles in my November race!
August 17, 2011
I’m beginning the 5th week of my half-marathon training program and I’ve learned something very surprising about myself. I like the long run. I like the long run better than the short, maintenance run. Who’d have thought?
The Galloway training plan I’m using calls for two thirty-minute maintenance runs during the week and one longer run on the weekend. The first long run was 3 miles, the next was 4, then 5, and today was 6 miles. The first two long runs were no big deal because I’d achieved those milestones before. But 5 and 6 miles seemed much bigger deals.
The day before the 5 mile run, I pulled Runkeeper up on my computer and began plotting a route. I decided to take the run out of the neighborhood for a change. It turns out that from my neighborhood to Forsyth Park is about 2 miles, so I chose that route. I knew I could run an extra lap around Forsyth to get the distance I needed before turning around and heading for home.
Then in the morning, I plugged in my headphones, fired up my Runkeeper app and my workout Pandora station and took off. Slow and steady, “I’ve got this,” I said.
Getting out of the neighborhood was great. Running into the city was great too, as landmarks seemed to tick quickly by and Forsyth Park was in front of me sooner than I’d expected. It was funny – at about 40 minutes into the run I was doing well and feeling strong with plenty of gas left in the tank. Then I realized how surprising that was considering I’d already run longer than my usual weekly maintenance runs – those runs that still seem hard for me.
So what’s the deal? My only explanation is that it’s a psychological thing. I went into my long run knowing it would be long. I wasn’t looking at the clock to see how much longer I had to run – instead I had a distance for a goal. I was running toward a physical location, not just looping around the neighborhood waiting for my thirty minutes to be up.
Today’s 6-mile run was no different. I planned my route the night before and found that a route from my neighborhood to Riverstreet was about 3 miles – perfect for the round trip. And running to Riverstreet? That just sounded like a long way from home, but in a good way. In an ambitious way.
The run seemed to go even faster once I passed Forsyth Park – each downtown square was a small victory and a beautiful backdrop for the run, and before I knew it I was standing on Bay Street looking at the river. I snapped this picture before moving on.
Sure, my legs were tired and the last 15 minutes or so I was ready to be done, but the whole run was FUN. And my pace was no slower than my weekly maintenance runs – I should’ve been keeling over, but I wasn’t.
I don’t think I could do 13.1 miles right now – at least not run it and enjoy it. But I’m beginning to feel more optimistic about these upcoming races. There is still a big difference between 6 miles and 13.1, but it’s a good start.
Now – how to make these weekly maintenance runs more fun?
It was crazy. Insane even.
Although I had physically prepared myself for races much longer than this one, I was not mentally prepared for my first Disney race last weekend. Not prepared to run in the middle of such a mass of humanity. It was NUTS. And yet somehow, it was fun.
I’ll write about the race soon, but first I must confess to being a serious dork (surprising, I know). The day before race day, when Lee and I pulled into Orlando, our first stop was the packet pickup at the Wide World of Sports. We got my race packet, my bib, my commemorative pin and relay baton, and then headed over to the expo for more swag.
And some stalking.
I had already stalked the website of Jeff Galloway, the trainer whose program I’ve been following, and knew he was scheduled to be there. For some time I’ve been listening to the Galloway Edition of the Extra Mile Podcast during my runs, in which the host and Galloway discuss training and racing strategy. Galloway has been in my ear, coaching me along on every one of my long runs, and I really wanted to meet the man.
We picked up my free race t-shirt, rounded another corner and there he was. In all his skinny glory.
I wanted to join the line of people waiting to meet him, but they all seemed to be buying his books and getting them signed. What would I say when I got to the front of the line? The penny-pinching truth? “Hi Mr. Galloway. I really enjoyed checking your book out at my local library!”
I hemmed. I hawed. I stalled. Eventually, the line was down to one person and I knew I’d regret not saying hello, so I approached. While his partner at the booth was busy selling a run/walk timer to the person in front of me, Jeff turned my way and asked, encouragingly, “What’s your question?”
Question? Oh crap! I didn’t have a question! Was I supposed to have a question? I have disappointed Jeff Galloway with my lack of questions!
I finally blurted out something about how I didn’t have a question (or a book to sign) but that I just wanted to meet him. I explained that I’d just started running this year using his program, and he broke into a big smile, pointed his finger at my chest and said, “Good for you!” Like he meant it. Like I wasn’t the 500th person that day who’d told him the same thing.
I thanked him for his program, told him I was enjoying the podcast, and then in a final burst of dorkiness, I asked for a photograph. He said ok, but then he turned and walked away.
Oh no. He walked away. He did not want a photograph? I must purchase a book first?
“How about here, in front of the sign?” he said, waving me over closer to the Run Disney banner behind his booth. Oh thank goodness. Not a rejection.
Click.
And then I scurried away before I could say something ridiculous, gushing one last “Thank you!” over my shoulder and thinking that he couldn’t have been nicer.
My dad came into town yesterday, and whenever we have guests I enjoy planning our meals. As I prepared for his visit I began thinking of different restaurants we might try. I knew I wanted something local, maybe on the water, and definitely with seafood.
At some point it occurred to me – why not take out a boat? For us, boating has been almost exclusively a weekend activity. But one of the bonuses of the boat club is that we don’t have to spend any time prepping a boat or putting it in the water, so why not scoot on over to the marina and sail away for dinner on a Tuesday night?
So we packed up some steamed shrimp and ignored the brief rain shower as we pulled away from the dock. Pretty soon we were under blue skies, the only boat zipping up a quiet Skidaway River.
I hadn’t really considered how different it could be, taking out a boat in the evening. Rather than roasting us, the sun was low in the sky, casting a golden glow on the surrounding marshes. The breeze was warm but pleasant, and we had plenty of birds and even a dolphin for company.
I don’t think any restaurant in Savannah could have done it better.
Another post from the running archives, in which I get a reality check and a new mantra.
July 21, 2011
Lee is running too, and sometimes
after one of us runs, we’ll complain to the other about various
challenges – an aching shin, the heat and humidity, how difficult a
certain pace felt. The other day at lunch I was moaning about something
running-related, I don’t even remember what it was exactly, when Lee
interrupted me by putting his hand in the air, palm out – the universal
sign for STOP.
“Sweetheart, I love you,” he said, but in a way that I knew I
was about to hear something unpleasant. “But you seem to spend an awful
lot of resources on something that makes you so miserable.”
I was
really surprised by his comments for a moment. I mean, yeah, I was whining, but
running doesn’t make me miserable. I feel overwhelmingly positive about
running.
Right?
When I talk to most other runners
about running, I get all excited to discuss running form and training
strategy, overcoming the personal challenges, the races, etc. But I seem
to save my complaining for Lee. And for myself. I complain a lot to
myself while I’m running.
So really, Lee did me a favor. He
helped me see that I when I let my guard down, I focus too much on the
things that are difficult about my runs and less on the fun of running.
Not
long after that revelation, I picked up a copy of Runner’s World
magazine and was reading an article about quick fixes to common running
issues. Most of the advice was about physical technique, but the final
“issue” addressed was a mental one. The runner had a problem with
negative thinking on her runs, so she developed a word to halt the bad
thoughts and a mantra to usher in the good ones.
It sounded kind
of hokey, but I decided to give it a try. For stopping the negative
thoughts, I chose a phrase I use with Camille. When she’s whining and
needs an attitude adjustment, I’ll give her a stern look and quietly but
firmly say, “Fix it.”
I like this tactic because it doesn’t just say “stop the behavior,” it instructs you to improve it.
For
my manta, cheesy as it sounds, I chose “You’ve got this.” It’s improper
grammar, I know, but that makes it sound just a little feisty. And when
your run gets tough, you need feisty.
The first time I ran with
my new attitude and my manta to keep my company, I ran 4 miles. Four
great miles – my longest distance so far. True, I was on vacation,
running with an ocean view to look at and a nice morning breeze, but I
don’t think the temps or scenery were solely responsible for my good
run. I stopped the negative thoughts and focused on the positive ones,
and made both literal and figurative strides.
I’ve totally got this!
Hello and Happy 62 Months to my big girl! My kindergarten girl. We’ve had a month now to settle into your kindergarten year – a new grade and a new school. All these changes have required some adjustment for all of us and it hasn’t been easy. At first, you seemed happy in your new school and I was marveling at the ease of transition. We snapped these pictures as you enthusiastically headed off to kindergarten on the first day. We included a photo by a statue in the school lobby – we plan to get a picture there every year to mark your growth.
But two days into the school year, just as you were settling in, it was discovered that there had been a typo on the room roster at open house. You were in the wrong teacher’s room.
Oops.
A totally forgivable mistake, unless you are a certain 5-year-old who has already dealt with a fair amount of change and really prefers consistency. If you are that 5-year-old, the mistake is unforgivable.
I don’t blame you for being so upset. Halfway through your second day you were plucked from your room and thrust into another – a room with older kids and twice as many kids and where nothing was familiar. When we picked you up that day, you crawled into the car and burst into tears. We wanted to go inside and meet your new teacher, and you – the girl who is usually compliant and agreeable – flatly refused. “I am NOT going back in there today,” you said between choking sobs.
I hoped each day would get easier, but for the rest of the week you stood firm in your dislike of the whole situation. “I want to go back to my old school,” you said. “At my new school, you have to change classes.” We tried to explain that this was a rare mistake, but you weren’t convinced.
You were missing your buddies too (as was I). Thankfully, your best friends all live in the neighborhood, and that first day of school we made plans to get together with them for celebratory ice cream in the afternoon. You girls could not have been happier to reunite, or cuter for that matter.
While this transition to a new school has not been smooth or fun, thankfully you finally seem to be warming up to things. We all are. You are making friends (you and Taylor love to play at recess – she pretends to be a vampire and you pretend to be her pet vampire bat). You’re in a class with kindergarteners and first graders, and initially I think you were intimidated by the first grade work that was being presented in the classroom. But once I explained that you were doing kindergarten AND first grade work, your frustration turned to pride and excitement and you’ve been much more upbeat about school.
One of your first homework assignments was to put together a “Meet Me Bag,” essentially a show-and-tell bag filled with things that tell your classmates something about you. I loved seeing what you came up with for your Meet Me Bag – a snapshot of how you see yourself at age 5.
Your bag included (in your words):
– A Totoro bag and a Totoro toy because I love Totoro.
– A gymnastics leotard because I do gymnastics.
– Sue the T-Rex because I saw her in Chicago and I love dinosaurs.
– A bunny, a badger and a horse because I like animals.
– A camera because I like taking pictures.
– A marker because I like making crafts.
– A Batgirl because I like superheroes.
– An arrowhead because I like collecting arrowheads.
I looked at all the items laid out on my bed and thought, “I just adore this kid.” You are super cool in my book.
This month you had a HUGE breakthrough in something we’ve been working on since you were a baby. To set the stage, you should know that even as an infant, you hated having water on your face. Washing your hair was a loathsome chore that often ended in hysterics.
When you were 15 months old we signed you up for swimming classes, hoping to help you overcome this issue. From the very beginning, the swim instructor wanted us to dunk you. I did, and each time you emerged from the water spitting mad. Fearing you’d hate pools forever if we kept it up, your Daddy and I decided to be patient and not push the issue. You’d get over this on your own time.
And boy did we have to be patient. Year after year you refused to put your head underwater. We were nervous too – we spend an awful lot of time around water and were eager to teach you to swim for your own safety. You were NOT eager.
This summer we joined a neighborhood pool and met friends there frequently for playdates.
At first, you were the kid who hung on the edge of the pool, moving away from the games if things got too splashy. You really wanted to swim and would psyche yourself up to put your head under water. But after one spu
ttering attempt you were usually done trying to swim for the day.
But as summer drew to a close, something changed. I think you just got tired of being the only one of your friends not swimming. You grew braver and braver about putting your head underwater. Finally, on Labor Day, the last day of the pool season – THIS:
We could not have been more pleased. Of course, I hope you retain this enthusiasm and courage through the long winter. If you do, I think next summer at the pool/beach/boat is going to be a blast.
While we mourned the end of summer, we also welcomed the beginning of fall, including the Georgia football season. Your Daddy and I LOVE going to football games in Athens and I’ve long dreamed about taking you there, dressed up in your cheerleading outfit, and watching a game in Sanford Stadium.
We decided this year you might be ready, and we were super lucky that our friends (practically family) the Valleses wanted to come too. On that Saturday in Athens, you, your Daddy and I all shared a first – our first tailgating party. As we made plans to meet up with friends three hours before the game, I wondered if you’d be bored with tailgating. I needn’t have worried. Although Nate and Andrew couldn’t tailgate with us (Nate’s first baseball game of the season was that same morning), you and Nia entertained yourselves with good food, card games and corn hole – all the ingredients for a great tailgating party.
And I must say – we were very impressed with you during the game. Not only were you willing to hang out, you wanted to watch. You loved the band, the cheerleaders and the baton twirlers. You loved watching the dog house to see when the bulldog would poke his head out to say hello. But you also enjoyed the game – or at least cheering for good plays. As soon as we’d start cheering, you’d pipe in with shrieks and yells, thrashing your pom poms so vigorously that the people around us had to duck for cover. I had to rein you in a bit so we wouldn’t upset our neighbors in the stands, but secretly I was pleased by your enthusiasm.
We made it halfway through the third quarter before we were officially overbaked by the sun and overtired. But you’ve already said that you want to go back, and next time, you want to stay for the whole game.
That’s my girl!
Another month. A month of growth, of firsts, and of change. Just know this my girl – one thing that will never change is the love your Daddy and I have for you. Sleep well sweet girl. We love you.
Today I’m beginning the 9th week of my half-marathon training program – over halfway there! That makes it even more interesting for me to go back and read posts like this one.
Here’s another entry from the running archives, back from the week or two before my training began. I’m hoping to be caught up to real time posts soon!
July 13, 2011
Buoyed by the success of surviving my first
race, two weeks ago I signed myself up for another one. A much longer
one. My first half-marathon.
In November of this year, I’ll run
in the Rock ‘n’ Roll half-marathon, and I’m pretty excited about it. So
far, about 15,000 people have registered and the event may sell out. I
cannot imagine what it will be like to run with 15,000 other people, but
I’m ready to find out.
Over the past two weeks I’ve been looking
at different half-marathon training programs and finally settled on
Jeff Galloway’s walk/run program. With only 3 runs on the schedule each
week it doesn’t seem overwhelming, and I like what he has to say about
the benefits of brief walk breaks.
My training program begins
next week, and I must admit it loomed large during my 30-minute run this
morning. When I first began running several months ago, I hoped these
short neighborhood jogs would soon be a breeze. But unfortunately they
are still tough.
Running is a real mixed bag for me. I love the
running culture. I enjoy talking to other runners, researching training
programs, reading and writing about running and planning for races. I
like doing something so healthy, and I enjoy the way I feel after a run – both a bit tired from the run but energized from having accomplished it.
But during the run – I struggle. One day I’d love to do a 30-minute run and find my mind wandering, but
for now I spend most of the 30 minutes thinking about running, about how
slow and clumsy and out of breath I feel, and whether or not I will
make it to the next walk break. My confidence is fragile, and when I’m
running and I start thinking about 13.1 miles, I get panicky.
I
hope that as I progress through my training program my confidence will
improve as each week ticks by and I survive. And maybe once I have a
half-marathon under my belt, the 30-minute neighborhood jog will seem like a breeze. We’ll soon find out.
The Valles family started the tradition four years ago, and we’re awfully glad they’ve kept it going. Every Labor Day they come to Tybee for a beach vacation, which means we get to crash the party. Four years ago, these were our little beach bums:
How wonderful to watch them grow up more and more each year. This time, Nia and Nate were riding the surf and Camille was organizing beach races. And we adults parked under a beach tent and watched the fun (except for Andrew, who was out in the water working really hard to assist the kids with the boogie boards!). Already looking forward to next year!
