I have Achilles' Tendonapathy. As far as I can tell, that means a PT has free reign to massage the every-living-crap out my leg, causing me to limp around for a while, and then a few hours later - feel magically better.
I will not break myself while running, as far as the PT and the massage therapist can tell.
I'm cleared to do everything but speed work. My ankle is weak, I can't push off, this makes me slow.
But...I have three weeks to get the ankle in line, so now, I take full advantage of my standing desk and do leg lifts a few times a day, hoping to strengthen the little booger.
So...I still consider a 3:50 on the very edge of my abilities. It's likely to be a hot day (not good), but my Tuesday running partner is going to run the bulk of the race with me (cue choirs of angels here). She has a fascinating job, which crosses all sorts of interests for me, and it really isn't much of a stretch to think she could come up with 3+ hours of stories to keep my mind off what will surely be a very painful run.
My parents will also see me run, which will be a huge lift. (Hopefully they will not blink and miss me. That would be a huge bummer.) They'll probably see me one or two times in the first 15 miles, and then they'll head off to Helen's soccer game, or Ed will decide the crowds are just too much to bear for another glimpse. I totally understand this, of course.
I have promised myself when I pass my friend Erin, who always comes out to cheer, that I will not give her a huge thumbs down like a did last year. I immediately regretted my bad attitude, but by the time I saw her on her bike, my dreams of qualifying for Boston were over. I was hot. I was tired. I had let the day get the best of me.
And, so help me, if I make it through this race and get my BQ, and then my running partner qualifies for Boston a few weeks later at her race, I'm definitely paying for the hotel room and dinner.
Because no way will I cross that line anywhere close to in time without her.
Send your ankle strengthening vibes my way!
Elaine
Friday, October 6, 2017
Thursday, October 5, 2017
The Dinner Parent
I've been rereading all of these wonderful blog posts that have spoken to me through the years. I love the "gatekeeper" post as much as I love discussing the "invisible burden". I have been known to forward tidbits like these to Ed, mostly hoping for some empathy. Also, I wouldn't mind a little recognition sometimes.
I've been stuck with the job of gatekeeper and person who notices everything because my brain works like that.
And nobody else's in my house does.
Or they hide it.
Just last night, Connor needed his Boy Scout uniform. I do my very best not to involve myself AT ALL with Boy Scouts. I don't get the emails, I don't check in about what's going on. I show up, as needed, if given enough notice.
The number of times I have worn Connor's uniform? 0.
The number of badges that anyone else in this house has gotten put on Connor's uniform? Also 0.
So I guess that means I don't really ignore Scouts. I make sure the grunt work gets done.
But last night, Connor assured Ed and me he knew where his uniform was, and even though we were unable to attend some ceremony because Ed had scheduled something else, he would be fine. Of course. He had no idea where the little thing that goes on his scarf was, so I retrieved it from the basement, next to the washing machine.
Did I mention I'm the laundry queen around here?
But to the point of this post, two years ago, I went back to work mostly full-time. I still have pay periods where I'm charging annual leave because I can't squeeze all my hours in, but I'm pretty close to full-time. That first year, we spent a lot of time balancing who would stay at work late each evening, who would be home for the kids, etc. It was complicated, but pretty fair.
Last year, we switched it up and I became the evening parent. Which is to say, I haven't packed more than a handful of lunches in the past year plus, because I leave for work before Helen comes downstairs most mornings, and I'm running or preparing for work when Connor is readying himself.
But I am home for almost every dinner.
And while that is, in and of itself, a bit burdensome. It has also been the source of great joy.
You see, my children are old enough now to have theoretical discussions brought on by incidents they observe in life or in the news. Last year, we discussed all sorts of policy. I try very hard to balance my instinct to quash contrary arguments, and instead work to talk through them allowing my children to share their views. We iterate through topics multiple times until some resolution is reached. For now.
This is, hands down, my favorite part of parenting.
True, conversations can be tough. We've tackled the existence of god, birth control, and of course, taking a knee. We talk about freedoms my children have that other children do not have, the great wealth of opportunity that surrounds us, and occasionally I share my own despair.
And while being the dinner parent is not for the faint-hearted, and I occasionally worry about screwing up horribly, I'm humbled daily by the complex thoughts my children are able to share.
I might not enjoy the gatekeeper role much, but I do enjoy being the dinner parent, which could also be called philosopher at large.
I've been stuck with the job of gatekeeper and person who notices everything because my brain works like that.
And nobody else's in my house does.
Or they hide it.
Just last night, Connor needed his Boy Scout uniform. I do my very best not to involve myself AT ALL with Boy Scouts. I don't get the emails, I don't check in about what's going on. I show up, as needed, if given enough notice.
The number of times I have worn Connor's uniform? 0.
The number of badges that anyone else in this house has gotten put on Connor's uniform? Also 0.
So I guess that means I don't really ignore Scouts. I make sure the grunt work gets done.
But last night, Connor assured Ed and me he knew where his uniform was, and even though we were unable to attend some ceremony because Ed had scheduled something else, he would be fine. Of course. He had no idea where the little thing that goes on his scarf was, so I retrieved it from the basement, next to the washing machine.
Did I mention I'm the laundry queen around here?
But to the point of this post, two years ago, I went back to work mostly full-time. I still have pay periods where I'm charging annual leave because I can't squeeze all my hours in, but I'm pretty close to full-time. That first year, we spent a lot of time balancing who would stay at work late each evening, who would be home for the kids, etc. It was complicated, but pretty fair.
Last year, we switched it up and I became the evening parent. Which is to say, I haven't packed more than a handful of lunches in the past year plus, because I leave for work before Helen comes downstairs most mornings, and I'm running or preparing for work when Connor is readying himself.
But I am home for almost every dinner.
And while that is, in and of itself, a bit burdensome. It has also been the source of great joy.
You see, my children are old enough now to have theoretical discussions brought on by incidents they observe in life or in the news. Last year, we discussed all sorts of policy. I try very hard to balance my instinct to quash contrary arguments, and instead work to talk through them allowing my children to share their views. We iterate through topics multiple times until some resolution is reached. For now.
This is, hands down, my favorite part of parenting.
True, conversations can be tough. We've tackled the existence of god, birth control, and of course, taking a knee. We talk about freedoms my children have that other children do not have, the great wealth of opportunity that surrounds us, and occasionally I share my own despair.
And while being the dinner parent is not for the faint-hearted, and I occasionally worry about screwing up horribly, I'm humbled daily by the complex thoughts my children are able to share.
I might not enjoy the gatekeeper role much, but I do enjoy being the dinner parent, which could also be called philosopher at large.
Tuesday, October 3, 2017
Stonyfield's Future Leaders!
As I wrap my head around the leadership of our country these days (or lack thereof), it is easy to get overwhelmed, depressed, worried - and just about every other negative emotion that clutters my thoughts.
Top that off with a gun problem that all we seem to be willing to do is pray about, and it's easy to lose hope.
But, on the flip side, I am gifted with a set of friends who are the activists that will right this ship, and will continue to do good for their communities and other communities in need. Many days, that can be a real lift.
And it has not escaped me that the number of notices I get asking for recommendations for young women who might benefit from a STEM program, an internship, or another opportunity have increased, of late. My daughter is not *quite* in the age range for most of the opportunities, but it makes me happy they exist.
There is one solid action I think we can all take, and that is finding a way to support young people. We're giving them a mess. They're going to need all the lift they can get.
I've been lucky to be part of Stonyfield's blogger program for several years now. I'm proud to be a tiny part of what appears to be a very concerted effort on their part to improve communities.
It is, with pleasure, that I am announcing my own donation to the Stonyfield effort to prepare #FutureLeaders for work saving the environment. As part of that effort, they're matching up to $125,000 in donations between now and November 6 to send children from Boys & Girls Clubs of America to an AZA accredited zoo. You can donate and learn more here.
True, we could throw up our hands. But I'm not quite ready to do that. I'm going to find places to invest in young people, and this seems like a reasonable effort to me. And given that climate change might be the issue that needs the most attention, I'm all about efforts to inspire young people to care about our planet.
Elaine
Top that off with a gun problem that all we seem to be willing to do is pray about, and it's easy to lose hope.
But, on the flip side, I am gifted with a set of friends who are the activists that will right this ship, and will continue to do good for their communities and other communities in need. Many days, that can be a real lift.
And it has not escaped me that the number of notices I get asking for recommendations for young women who might benefit from a STEM program, an internship, or another opportunity have increased, of late. My daughter is not *quite* in the age range for most of the opportunities, but it makes me happy they exist.
There is one solid action I think we can all take, and that is finding a way to support young people. We're giving them a mess. They're going to need all the lift they can get.
I've been lucky to be part of Stonyfield's blogger program for several years now. I'm proud to be a tiny part of what appears to be a very concerted effort on their part to improve communities.
It is, with pleasure, that I am announcing my own donation to the Stonyfield effort to prepare #FutureLeaders for work saving the environment. As part of that effort, they're matching up to $125,000 in donations between now and November 6 to send children from Boys & Girls Clubs of America to an AZA accredited zoo. You can donate and learn more here.
True, we could throw up our hands. But I'm not quite ready to do that. I'm going to find places to invest in young people, and this seems like a reasonable effort to me. And given that climate change might be the issue that needs the most attention, I'm all about efforts to inspire young people to care about our planet.
Elaine
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