The Capitol 10,000

Nine months ago I wrote this post.

The Race.

And i started running. I didn't know what to do or how.

But at least I started running.

And then I started another blog to write about my journey to the Capitol 10k.

I was addicted at first. I ran almost every day, panicked if I missed a day, celebrated almost every run because I had gone farther or faster or harder than the run before. Then the weather turned cold...and my back started to hurt...and the days got shorter...and troy's work schedule got busier...and with every excuse, the runs tapered off. In December, I ran only 11 miles.

But at least I ran 11 miles.

In January, with the invigoration of the new year, I re-dedicated...but soon the weather and an injured knee kicked my tail.

But...at least I never completely gave up. I had a race to run on March 29th.

Since August 1st, I've run 315 miles.
Since the new year, 100 miles.
My fastest 10k was 52 minutes.
My fastest mile - 7:20.
I ran in the rain. In 29 degree weather. In 100 degree weather. I ran in the dark of morning and hush of dusk. I ran when I didn't want to one bit. I ran. And the runs that started with me hating every step, always ended with that same sense of victory. Even the runs where I felt weak and tired, those days with lead legs and breathless strides, even those runs brought a sense of victory.

At least I put on the shoes. And got out there.

My ultimate goal was running the Capitol 10k. And beating dad's time. When I found his bibs this weekend, his times were 56:23 and 58:13. And, given my recent runs and times, I was pretty certain that I wouldn't beat his times. Especially not on the hilly course. But I wanted to be proud of myself for at least not giving up on the goal of running it.

Yesterday was the capitol 10k.

It was an early day. And a cold one. Me, my brother Josh, his wife Kara, my sister Christy, my brother Micah, Jenni D., and my friend Sarah and her husband were the crew that made it to the starting line at the Capitol 10k. We had our layers on and were terrified of the hills.

18,000 people assembled along with us at the starting line and finally the race began. Three minutes after the go signal, I finally reached the starting line. And I was off.

I had a Chicago Cubs, dad's favorite team, hair band in my hair and on my hand. It was the small thing I wanted to have with me to remind me why I was doing this. I glanced down at my hand a thousand times during the race to see that hairband. It kept me moving.

At first, I ran an easy pace. When we came to the hills, I just went as slow as I needed to make it to the top and then gave it all I got on the level and downhill sections. On one uphill section, this tiny little gray haired lady passed me. I swear she was shuffling her feet, not even running, but, man, she was booking it! But the cool thing about a race this big - for every person that passes you, you're definitely passing others. It's super motivating to overtake someone.

The course was tough, but not as bad as I expected. I knew the first half would be the toughest because of the elevation, so I took it a little easier. After conquering one unusually high hill, a lot of people cheered. I hoped it was the "mountain" I had seen on the elevation mapat mile 3ish, but wasn't sure. I didn't want to get excited if it was just a baby hill. I just kept on running.

I had been hesitant to check my nikeplus pace, time or distance because I didn't want to feel overwhelmed by how much remained or how slow I was going. But after that big hill I pressed the button. I hoped to be past 2 miles and at about 18 minutes. I was at 3.2 miles and 26 miles.

It was on that downhill stretch that I started doing the math.

26 minutes. 3.2 miles. And that was the first half...the hilly half. The rough half. If I keep this pace up...26 plus 26 is 52...that'll beat dad's time. I could beat his time! But is my nike thing accurate?

In the human race, my nikeplus thing was off by like a mile. In the five mile race last week, it was off by .3 miles.

Where are the mile markers? Even if I have over 3 miles left, they're the downhill-ish miles. I could do this. I could actually beat his time!

I kept running completely and totally re-energized by the new realization that I could do this. That I wasn't going to just finish the race in under an hour as I secretly hoped, but that I might beat his time. My original goal.

I kept running. At mile 4.5 according to nikeplus, my right leg started hurting pretty bad. Not as though it were tired, but like something was wrong with it. It had done this before, but faded as I kept running. So I kept running. I wanted to find a mile marker so bad. I needed to know where I was. How far I really had to go. I hadn't seen one the whole race.

Finally, there it was... a gigantic number 5 that seemed to shout out - "just one more left! Just one more left!" I pressed my nike plus arm band. "46:20"

I have 10 minutes. 10 munites to run 1.2 miles. to beat his 56:23 time. I can do that! Right? I can do that. at a nine minute pace? and then the .2...I can do this!

I kept running. Mile 5 was my hardest mile. My leg really hurt. And the rest of me was just tired. I wanted to walk...just a few steps...so bad, but I didn't. I kept running. And running.

Finally, I saw the bridge. The bridge that was the end. I pressed my ipod - "53:12".

Three minutes to finish to beat his fastest time. That's far. It's not gonna happen. There's no way. But you can beat his 58 time. That's a for sure. That's a for sure! That still counts! You're gonna finish way under an hour!

I kept running. By this time I had shed my gloves somewhere on the path, and my head band was on my wrist. My shirts were soaked. I felt like I could feel every pebble in the pavement through my shoes.

Keep moving! You can see the finish line. You've done it. You're running the race. You're crossing the same finish line. You could have crossed it at the same time as dad if he were here. Keep moving!

The final turn and the finish line was right in front of me. I pressed my ipod. "56:20"

You didn't beat his fastest, but you're gonna beat one of his times! You're actually going to be beat his time!

I sprinted across the finish line. Grinning.

56:50.

56:50! 56:50! That's my fast time in forever! And on these hills! In this race. That's my fastest for real time! 56:50! Why didn't I bring my cell phone?! I've got to tell someone!

It was an amazing feeling. I was annoyed that I was just 30 seconds shy of beating his fastest time. I could think of all the breif moments - dodging around people slowly, taking a long corner, not sprinting down a hill - that could have added up to 30 seconds. But, even that small annoyance couldn't bring me down. 56:50! I was and am still so proud of that time. Nine months ago I had never run a mile. Yesterday I ran 6.2 miles in under an hour.

I wandered through the crowds getting the free water and bananas and chips and it was such a high! Such an accomplishment.

You know, there aren't many tangible goals in this world. There aren't many things you can, without a doubt, check off. Be a good wife, be a better mother, be kinder, work harder...how do you ever know if you've really done those things? But run a race in under 58 minutes. That's a for sure right there. And, let me tell you, the sense of victory from this one race is almost silly! I just felt so...successful. And, as very cliche as it sounds, I felt like I could do anything.

I didn't know where the rest of the "team" was so I took all my free goodies to the meeting place and waited. And thought.

All day I had thought about dad. He was the reason I was doing this in the first place. I wondered what he did the morning to prepare. What was the weather like the day of his runs? I thought about him crossing the finish line. Checking his watch to see his time - was he proud? Disappointed? What did he do after? Did he feel the same way I felt?

And then I thought about what would have been if we could have raced together. And my heart hurt a little bit, because he would have made such a big deal out of the day. A runner's breakfast, pinning on our bib numbers, getting our timing chips, lining up at the starting line. We would have lost each other, no doubt, during the race, but we would have been there at the finish line waiting for the other. And we would have talked about the hills and the race and what mile hurt the worst. And we would have dinner after...and we would have bought something to commemorate the day. And he would have loved having me there.

I just wish...

But second best was doing all of those things with the group that went with me. Josh was the first to find me at the meeting place and we shared our race stories. Then kara, then Christy. We heard Micah's story from Dave who met him at the finish line. And then later we met up with Sarah and her husband at Whole Foods and we all scarfed down the most guilt-free meal any of us had ever had and shared tales of the first time we all ran the Capitol 10k and spoke of our "next year" goals.

It was a good day. A very good day. And I know I could have trained harder or been more consistent and I know I didn't really achieve my goal of beating his fastest time, but I did it. For nine months, I put one foot in front of the other and kept going. Right over the finish line. And dad saw me do it. I know it.

I can't wait to be at the starting line next year.

not too bad...

You know that race I ran on Saturday? the Shannon Shamrock Race? Well, they posted the results on roadlizards. I got 5th in my division. Out of 26! 44th overall out of 117. That's not like crazy amazing or anything, but if I had run just two minutes faster I would have placed! But two minutes is a lot in a race. But still...I'm pretty proud of myself, I gotta say. :)

*edited to say: If you were to look at the race results, closely, you would see that a ten year old girl ran in the race. And her time was was 45:00. I was tailing that girl the whole time and I have to say that watching a little girl kick your hiney will motivate you to keep on moving. But apparently not enough to actually beat her. Her legs were like half the length of mine!

Attention Racers!

Hey all you capitol 10k people! I posting info here and on "finishing the race" about this weekend.

If you're coming to Austin Saturday evening and would like to, a few of us are meeting at Kerbey Lane Cafe, the south location at 7pm. Here's a link to more info on the restaurant:

Kerbey Lane Cafe

If you can come, we'd love to see you there! Maybe text or email or call or comment if you can come so I kind of know what to expect.

I can't believe the race is only a few days away!

Benjamin Xander...

He's here! Wendy had sweet little 7 lb., 5 oz., Benjamin Zander this morning and everyone is doing fantastic. He's got super dark hair and just as cute as can be!

in a bit of a pickle.

Is there anybody out there who would be able to watch Grant tomorrow, tuesday, from 7:45 - 3ish? I've got to tutor and my normal childcare arrangements have been changed a bit. So could anyone help me out? I'll pay you... or take your kids for the day...or something! Let me know!

How we'll get him to adult hood.

oh, boy.

You may have heard me mention that Grant for the longest time refused to wear shoes. I mean the kid would kick and scream like a maniac if you even thought of putting them on his feet. Well, of course, I kind of hoped that would change.

And it certainly has! Grant now cries FOR his shoes. He could even have a pair of shoes on his feet, and if he sees another shoe somewhere, he cries for those to be put on too. He's a mess.

He's also learned how to climb on the kitchen table. And the end tables. And Mason's bed.

And he likes bugs. Like squeals with delight when he sees an ant or bee and tries to catch them...have I ever mentioned how I feel about bugs? Not a big fan.

It's gonna be fun getting this one to adult hood.

Don't do what you like. Like what you do.

I've loved that quote since the day it popped up on my Mary Engelbreit page a day calendar. The words were paired with a woman dancing with her broom while obviously deep in the throes of her household chores.

Appropriate for me. Not because I dance with my broom. But because I hate to clean.

Now, let's be clear, lest you judge. I do clean. But I truly absolutely despise it. I do love my house clean, but the act of getting it there fills me with no joy. I don't clean when stressed. I don't organize when overwhelmed. I don't dust when I want feel I've accomplished something. I'd much prefer any number of things over anything involving cleaning.

But.

I am the house cleaner. I have to clean. There are no two ways about it. Until Sprinkle of Grace suddenly becomes the sole photographer for the holmes-cruise family, a maid just ain't in the budget. So it's me. With the mop, the broom, the pledge and windex.

So back to the quote. In my aims to start dancing with my broom, rather than cursing at it, I've discovered a few things lately that have made cleaning not so bothersome. And I thought i'd share. NOT because I think you ladies of much higher standards when it comes to your wifely duties need such tips, but rather because I need to feel some success in my endeavor to not totally suck at homemakerdom.

First, my ipod has revolutionized my cleaning. I plug into that thing and go. And while I do feel slightly rude shutting my children and husband out of my world as I dance about, I comfort myself with the thought that I am cleaning. And they get a lot of my time anyway. :)

Second, if any supply somehow makes my life easier then I buy it. Yes, clorox wipes are more expensive than the spray bottle and papertowells, but, by God, those things sure get used a lot more than the former. And the little dusting wand thing from pledge - totally fun to use. And And, the downy ball, because like I can remember when to dump in the softener! Heck, half the time, even the ball is still sitting on the dryer during the whole washing cycle. And swiffer, dry, wet, whatever which way keeps me from having to do a full on mopping every week....It's totally worth the price.

Third, and this inspiration comes from Seph, there are these cleaning products at HEB. I can't recall the brand at the moment but they first lured me in because of the vintagey looking labels. But then the scents sealed the deal. They're all herby/essential oily smelling! Now, seph suggested making your own cleaning supplies with oils, but i mean, if spraying the clorox spray is too much for me then i'm not gonna bet on me making my own products anytime soon. So, I bought the basil scented all purpose cleaner. Diluted it and poured it into an old febreeze bottle. Spraying that stuff has brought joy to cleaning like nothing else on this earth. Even troy commented on the smell of our house after I cleaned the kitchen with it.

Finally, I've decided I won't ever be...well, some of you, who will remain nameless, because I'm not you. I'm just simply not. Oh, how I wish I was! But if I can still sleep fine at night knowing that there is a chunk of banana stuck to grants highchair...and grant... or that I haven't vacuumed my bedroom in...some time, or that there are always going to be finger, scratch that, handprints, even full on body prints on my french doors, then i'm letting it go.

At the tender age of 27...28?...27?...yes, 27, I've just come to terms with the fact that I'm not gonna get any better at this cleaning thing. And I'm sure not going to start suddenly loving it anymore because I read how-to clean books. I need a book titled...How to not clean while making it look like you did...when really you were making a cool peice of art for your wall. I should so write that book!

This has been quite a little post, hasn't it? Have i made enough excuses for my laziness? Ay caramba.

I just don't like to clean!
But i'm trying. I really am. I really truly am.

sorta.

It happened.

It happened. It finally happened.
I knew it was only a matter of time. I mean, you mix me, a calendar with bookings for people I often don't know through phone, email, texts and random church conversations and then have those bookings change due to weather, wind, or sick kids or any number of events, and eventually the law of probability dictates that I will somehow screw up and ultimately humiliate myself.

Today probability won.

So it's about oh, 12:50 or so and I'm still in my nightgown. Hey, it's spring break. So gimme a break. I had a shoot at 3pm for a doctor at CMC and decided that showering prior to the shoot wasn't a bad idea. And so I'm showering away, thinking about how important it is to not screw up the doctor pictures and as I'm massaging shampoo into my hair, the doorbell rings.

Huh? Dang door to door salesman people.

But just in case, I tiptoe out of the shower and see an suv parked out front.

OH. MY. GOD!

At 1pm today I was supposed to have a meeting with a wedding client to discuss such professional sounding things as wedding contracts, pose lists, and package details.

So, here I am, shampoo still in my hair, two days worth of mascara running down my cheeks, and an office in no telling what kind of condition and standing at my front door is the mother of the bride.

You know, it's moments like these, when I'm shreiking out "oh my God!" while praying fervently that I am just having some terrible dream, that I have to wonder how much fun God must have watching us. I mean really. He knew she was driving down my street as I stepped into the shower. He saw it coming. Now, I don't think God was sitting back with a bowl of popcorn thinking, "Gotcha!", but more along the lines of, "Oh, that Jenny..." with a small grin on his face.

So, there are a series of thoughts running through my mind. I could ignore her. Make up some excuse - my son had to go to the er, we all had the stomach flu, i left town unexpectedly - and then apologize profusely. OR I could answer the door and request we reschedule which would no doubt annoy the woman. Or I could open the door, confess I am a fool, and go on with life.

I threw on the first clothes I could find, towel dried my hair enough to hide the shampoo, wiped the mascara from my eyes with the back of my hand, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

I just looked at her and laughing, said, "I am soooo sorry! I am so sorry! I completely forgot about our meeting and was in the shower when the doorbell rang. I am so terribly embarassed."

She just laughed and said, "Oh, honey, that's the story of my life."

I showed her inside, asked her to give me a few minutes, and put on some concealer to hide my abundant blemishes, and then returned.

We had the meeting, I with wet hair running down my back and sad little racoon-esque eyes, and she with her notebook of perfectly organized notes and comments.

But somehow, she didn't fire me. She didn't even really seem to notice. She was gracious and I still managed to go over all the details of the contract with some level of composure.

So, it happened. The first missed appointment. There will be more. It's an inevitable fact of my life. But, at least i survived the first one.

random boy stories.

Grant likes to hide behind the sheer curtains in my office. He is certain he is completely hidden from us and just giggles uncontrollably.

Mason said this the other day: "Mom, you know what?" (sincerely believing what he was about to divulge would be news to me) "Ranch is really really good on salad! Yeah, when gema was here she made a salad and we put ranch on it and it was soo good!" Apparently, ranch isn't just for pizza dipping. Who knew?!

Grant has found the trash can and knows its purpose. He will find a bit of a wrapper or an old napkin or some other piece of trash, pick it up in his chubby little fist and waddle to the kitchen trash and dispose of it. Then he just grins like he is the biggest coolest kid around. The only bad thing is that he likes to occasionally throw away non-trash items...such as mom's favorite winter hat that was saved at the last minute when I saw it through the bag as i lugged it down the alley.

Mason's first words to me this morning were, "I died." As in he died in Super Mario Galaxy. He then proceeds to tell me that "it's fustrating that you don't know how to play this game and help me." To which I replied, "Well, just know that at six, you're far better at video games than I'll ever be." He just smiled.

If you say the word "outside" around grant without immediately going outside, there is great weeping and sobbing and tantrum throwing at the front door.

And the last boy story has nothing to do with my boy. But my best friend's boy. Kylah is having a boy! A boy! A sweet perfect little boy. I can't wait to meet your little guy, Kylah, and to hear all your little boy stories.

Hot Mama!

In addition to the modelesque senior, I took some pics of wendy in all her maternal beauty. It's really quite sickening how pretty she is in pictures. Really. I'm re-considering my ability to be her friend.

(are you guys sick of me posting pictures here?...I just have nothing to say... but I do have pictures...)

Kickin' some indie jane tail!

I had my first senior session of the year today. Oh, so much fun! I just want to edit all of this beauty's shots. I mean, she's gorgeous and didn't wear a lick of make up! Sickening. Now, I realize I'm not quite indie jane yet, but hey...pretty dang close, my friends. Pretty dang close, if I do say so myself... I'm gonna start kickin' some senior portrait tail!




PS - opinions - that top picture, 2nd from the top, is all faded out and layered with different color filters and such. Cool or too faded looking?

the birthday boy and the supermodel.

Today Mason is six. I just can't believe it. Six! He's old. I'm old. It's just crazy. The above picture should give you some indication of why there are so many pics posted of the supermodel... :) Mase is not a huge fan of mom's camera...
And here's another of the super cute model. :) Wind in his hair and everything.

Grant the supermodel.

I'm trying to learn a few things about my camera and Grant is a model I've hired who works for a small fee. He's got a good smile, great eyes (good looks run in his family), and he's not afraid to take off his shirt. He's not super cooperative, but we endure his fits and tantrums because of this adorable face.

Being a typical supermodel, he's pretty popular so we're forced to stop shoots for his many phone calls.

And we're working on finding him a good manicurist.

at the end of his shoot, he called his agent asking for a pay raise. He's now demanding fruit snacks in addition to juice boxes.

confession.

I am eating brownie batter with a spoon at this precise moment.
I mixed the batter with no intention of ever baking brownies. I just wanted the batter.

I need help.

uh-ooooh!

Grant just walked into my office without a diaper on.
His little white hiney is just about the cutest thing on this planet.

I hate her. In a purely complimentary way.

I hate this girl.
kathryn kreuger

Ugh. I mean, I don't hate hate her...but pretty close. I mean come on! No one should be that...sigh. So good.

And as long as I'm hating...

this one too. simplicity photography. simplicity? ha.

and remember indie jane?

ugh.ugh.ugh.

this is not a post aimed to attract "you rock" compliments. I'm just letting people know who I hate. :)

I think it's time. It's time for me to take some classes. Reading can only take me so far. I need someone to hold my camera with me in my hands and say, "see...see how it's shady with weird back lighting - that means you need this aperature...and this shutter speed...and this iso won't look too grainy, and here's how you turn down your flash to give just enough light...not ghost images."

I've gotten better. But geez. There's still so much room for major major improvement.

I shake my fist at you, kreuger!...in a purely complimentary way.

my sweet boys.

Mason is reading more and more. Grant likes it. :)