Two Kids and Their Bike Commute

In which the kids and I guest blog for our local bike shop:

https://www.londonbicyclecafe.com/news/2017/9/25/guest-post-two-kids-and-their-bike-commute

race versus run

So I while back I mentioned that I have been thinking about the 13.1 Run plan versus the 13.1 Race plan. I have now done both and thought I’d offer these reflections in the event they are helpful to anyone at all. Just my opinion – I’m totally interested to hear from others who have done both plans or are considering another TLAM cycle with a different plan.

Last winter I completed the 13.1 Traditional Run plan for my first half marathon. I have been running for more than 15 years and had a pretty good base. I run track intervals once a week but most often didn’t do a long run longer than 10 km. The training cycle was textbook. I nailed every workout, was ridiculously proud of myself every weekend when I ran further than I had ever run before and felt myself getting stronger and leaner. I struggled a bit to fit that mid-week medium run in but shifted my work schedule every week and somehow made it work. I sailed through those weeks injury free and ended the winter with an awesome race and a goal time achieved.

I absolutely couldn’t recommend the experience enough and told everyone who asked about AMR and TLAM. The only thing that niggled on my brain was that I did the run plan and not the race plan. Writing that now is clearly ridiculous. It was my first half. It went well. But there was something about the race plan that felt stronger, faster, shinier, cooler…

This year I really wanted to have the same (or similar) awesome experience and so I signed up for 13.1 Race. Less than a week into the plan I knew it wasn’t going to be the dream cycle of last year. An injury that had been hanging around for a couple of weeks got more persistent and when I couldn’t ignore it, I headed to the doctor and then the physiotherapist. I was totally relieved to learn it was *just* shin splints and not a stress fracture.

The PT recommended I keep training for my goal race, let go of my time goal and dial back the mileage – subbing for cross training some of the time – until the pain before, during and after running went away. I did a really great job of consistently doing my PT exercises alongside the pre-hab exercises and SSSCs and a really bad job at letting go of my time goal and of dialling back my mileage. At one point Dimity even sent me an email or fb message letting me know I could move to the Run plan if that was the best thing for managing my injury. I just couldn’t give up the idea that the Race plan was where I should be.

And so I slogged on.

The interval, hill and circuit run workouts were very do-able. The long runs all felt incredibly slow and sloggy. I often did 2-3 miles less than the plan said because I could hear the voice of my PT in my head as I carried on. He would have recommended 10km – the plan would say 20km so I’d do 16km as a “compromise” for example. And I didn’t once complete the middle race pace distances or the strong finish – my legs just couldn’t push when they were tired – and I was always worried that if I quickened my pace the pain in my shins would get worse or I would injury myself more.

The tempo runs were similar. Early on, I nailed them – probably running too fast but pushing the pace for the noted distance. As the length of the tempo runs increased I couldn’t get up to or sustain the speed. My pace jumped all over the place, I couldn’t settle in and every day brought a new twinge or niggle in my leg. When I look back on my strava records I think I titled one tempo run something other than “Ugh. Sloggity slog slog slog.”

So here’s my take –

Choose the Run 13.1 plan if –

• It’s your first half marathon. Full stop.
• You haven’t played with pace a lot – if you can’t easily rhyme off your tempo / race / easy / 5K pace – you may not reap the benefit of this plan.
• You like straight-up, honest, simple plans that work.
• You are injured or injury-prone.

Choose the Race 13.1 plan if –

• You have run multiple marathons. The race plan requires you to do many (like 4-5) long runs at or above 13 miles. This will be no biggie if you’ve done longer mileage.
• You have run multiple half marathons and have realistic time goals. This plan focuses on speed and will therefore help you achieve a PB (if you set one that is realistic!)
• You know your paces and want to get better at a variety of workouts.
• You are going to stick to the plan. To get the most out of this plan, you have to commit to it. One workout builds on the other and if you pick and choose what you get done, you are basically doing the Run plan and should start there.

It’s hard to regret training for 16 weeks, hanging with amazing BAMRS and completing a TLAM plan. I ran a really solid race and came within two minutes of a PB. I kept moving through a small-ish injury and got leaner and stronger. But I do *kinda* regret not moving to the Run plan so that I can truly say I nailed all those workouts and earned every sticker on my chart. We’ll see what I choose next time!

When a church is asked to change

I have a little online space where I keep some of my personal writing. I recently spoke here in church about our family's decision to include St John's in our annual philanthropic giving and I wanted to keep those thoughts so I added it to the website. When I got to the part where I had to put a title it took me a while but I settled on Church: It's Complicated. When thinking about what I wanted to say tonight, I kept coming back to that title. This is complicated.

Here's what I'd like you to know from me:

I'm not 100% certain what I hope to get from attending Sunday service or a Friday eve family potluck or a church event committee meeting. What I know is that those experiences and so many others I have here at St John's are grounding, familiar, uplifting and at times challenging. I'm content at St John's. I'm happy. I'm proud to be a part of this community, this space, this family.

Over the past few years, I have been asked, as a member of this congregation, to do many things: teach church school, shop for groceries, bring sandwiches, read in church, count bees in the garden, help plan the 5k race, volunteer at Saturday supper, be a member of parish council, be a part of the family & youth renew group, the membership committee, the stewardship committee. I have done all of those things. Sometimes I have been asked to do things and I've said no -- it didn't interest me, I couldn't make the time, other things had my attention.

You all have similar experiences - with likely one exception. At one time or another, you've been the one to do the asking and I have not. You take the lead - year after year or week after week and things get done. People are served. Families are welcomed. We strengthen our place.

Those people. That family. Our place. We need it all. And when we are asked to say goodbye to one it feels....well...complicated. Too much to ask and too difficult. We can't do more asking. We can't do more. 

But I think it's more complicated than that. This is a re-calibration.  A disruption. A fork in the road. The choice I hope we make is to see the opportunity. How can we rally? Rally around people like we have for so many years. Say farewell in a meaningful way. And come together - for a church that includes family programming, that welcomes children, that honours its tradition, that provides pastoral care and minsters to the most vulnerable among us. That provides space for our clergy to inspire and uplift and for our church leaders to be innovative, plan for the long term and consider all angles of solution finding. Let's be caring, inclusive and responsive. And let's be proactive and new. I'm proud to be part of an organization that is re-envisioning itself. That is thinking outside the box and I'm prepared to continue to be a part of our way finding. 

That's my bold ask.     

resilience

Resilience – the ability to weather a storm, rally your crew, keep the ship on course, call up your resources, your know-how, your rainy-day plan.

'

Any conversation about resilience – about families being successful in transitions and making it through tough times, brings tears to my eyes and takes me to February 2011 when our little family made a big decision to move across the country from rural Alberta to London, Ontario so that we could live closer to our extended family.'

 

The night we arrived we did what we always did: ventured outside for a walk after dinner. But instead of the kids running ahead on a country road lit up by the moon, we held their hands tightly and coaxed them down the block and around the corner while they asked us question after question.

 

“Who lives there?”

 

“Where’s the beach?”

 

“Where are all these cars going?”

 

“When’s our dog gonna be here?”

 

And so began our new adventure. That’s how we talked about it – to each other, to the kids, to our family. “We’re excited for what’s next.” “It’ll be an adventure.” “We’re a team. We’ve got this.”

 

We rented a small apartment.  My husband started his new job.  The kids and I got to work discovering our new city...discovering cities – neighbourhoods – having anything within walking distance. Our goals: find me a job, find us a house, build a network, meet other families, get on our feet.

 

There were days we made progress. Chris had an amazing day at work – arriving at our apartment full of energy and certain this was a great decision:  for his career and for our family. The kids and I would skip to the Y and the library. Twice in one day! The sidewalks were clear. The sun shone. I’d met another mother with kids the same age in the park.

 

We ticked things off our settling- in list: 

Health cards. 

House hunting. 

Soccer registration. 

Job interview.

The apartment we rented seemed cozy – not too small. The furniture fine – not broken and mismatched.  The fact that we had one suitcase of clothes and a small box of toys and books – part of the transition,  not difficult to manage.

 

And there were those days. When everything came crashing down. The kids refused to walk. My inbox was empty despite hitting send on a dozen job applications. It rained. Our apartment was dark and damp. Chris arrived home from work late. We missed the registration deadline for gymnastics. Our offer on a new house got out-bid. Our son turned five and we didn’t know anyone to invite to a party.  The kids wondered why their old friends didn’t visit any more.

 

On those days, our patience wore thin. We raised our voices. We lost our temper about things that shouldn’t have mattered. We argued.

 

We questioned our decision to move.

 

We were wistful about the life we had left behind: our friends, our kids’ friends, our backyard that bordered on a lake, a job Chris loved.

 

And in that wistfulness – that reflection - we rallied. Again and again. We stood in our tiny little apartment kitchen and figured it out. Holding mismatched coffee cups while our kids watched one too many cartoons, we figured it out. A pep talk. A hug. A new plan.

 

We put our oldest son in JK.

We crossed some things off our house must-have list.

 

We went to a family event at the church down the street.

 

Course correction. Calling on your resources. Enacting your rainy-day plan.

 

So many families go through times way tougher. We had an income. A safe place to live. We spoke the language all around us. And yet we walked the line.

 

And resilience kept our ship on course.

the bag lady on our block

We are new-ish to London.  We moved here, amidst drifts of snow, in the winter of 2011.  We left a tiny hamlet in rural Alberta to move closer to our families.  In our small community in Alberta, everyone knew everyone...literally.  Our kids picked carrots out of neighbour's gardens without permission.  We waved at every passing car on the way home.  The only store housed groceries, the post office, the video store and more.  Our move to London was a leap of faith.

We rented a small apartment in Woodfield.  My husband started his new job.  The kids and I got to work discovering our new city...building a network, meeting other families, finding our feet.  At the same time we were looking for a house to buy, preferably in Old South.

Most nights we met our realtor to view houses - in old north or old south.  To and from our apartment we invariably passed Pall Mall and Maitland.  My comments: "That place looks cool." "We should check it out." quickly turned into "That's Mommy's new favorite place." But still we hadn't ever been.

With warmer weather we went further afar...me towing two kids in a wagon.  One day, while our older son was in JK, the younger and I ventured out on a long walk with a promise of a stop at the park and a special drink.

That day we parked our wagon near an empty patio and tugged open the front door of The Bag Lady finding the first true piece of home for us in London.  Jane and her staff greeted us like neighbours. The Bag Lady was warm, casual and inviting.  It's the kind of place you want to talk about with your friends back home.  It enveloped our family when we were looking for community connections.  It was what we needed then.

We have been back countless times - sometimes by bike, sometimes by car or on foot.  The staff greet us with recognition.  They smile, they look us in the eye, they turn a blind eye when our kids sneak spoons full of sugar.  Our kids think reaching into the drink cooler for a bottle of juice or milk is the coolest.  My husband and I love the simplicity of the menu - no fuss - reliable, tasty eats delivered with a grin.

I work downtown now.  The kids go to nearby Lord Roberts School.  We pass the Bag Lady more than once everyday.  I recommend it to colleagues and out-of-towners.  We have purchased Bag Lady gift certificates for caregivers and teachers.  When our boys play restaurant it is as often The Bag Lady as it is something more well known.

We eventually purchased a house in Old North, not Old South.  In the end it made sense - north of downtown felt like us.  My weekday drive home always includes kid-refrains of "when can we go to The Bag Lady Mom?" "why aren't they open?"  I love telling the kids The Bag Lady closes on long weekends and holidays - that's what friends want friends to do - take time, observe, celebrate.

We don't live on The Bag Lady's block but we are part of its community.  It is part of our London. 

Church is a complicated homecoming

I didn’t grow up in London. St John’s is not my parent’s church. You didn't know me as a child. And yet when our family joined St John’s, for me, it was a homecoming.

From the heavy red door to the tidy kitchen in the church hall, the choir making it’s way slowly up the aisle to the very same creche at the front at Christmas, this church transported me to Holy Trinity Anglican Church where I spent Sundays as a child. A homecoming following five years of intermittent Sundays at Renison College as a university student and many beautiful years, including the baptism of our sons, in the arms of a tiny aging Anglican parish in very rural Alberta.

Joining St John’s was a familiar confirmation, a sureness, a breath, a connection.

I see it when a choir member tousles one of our boy’s hair on the way down the aisle. I hear it when you tell my kids they did a good job in the Christmas pageant. I taste it in the eucharist and feel it in my hands pressing my forehead when I pray after communion. It’s in the lilting pace of the Apostle’s Creed with my childhood minister’s voice coming through your voices. It’s in the wistful smiles you send our way when the kids are a tiny bit too restless in the pews. It’s the sun shining through the stained glass on Sunday morning and it’s in the backward shuffle of altar servers during communion reminding
me of my teenage years. It’s in the organ and the text I send my Dad on Sunday afternoon to tell him we sang his favourite hymn in church (but no one sang it quite as loudly as he would have.)

It’s here on Easter morning when Spring is most often still a promise. It swirls around the pumpkins and leaves on Thanksgiving and flickers in candlelight on my favourite day in church: Christmas eve. It’s in the prayer I’ve been saying to myself every night for as long as I can remember. And it’s in the fellowship we share during regular services and special celebrations.

More than a familiarity, our experience at St John’s, what I see, hear, taste and feel is community: it’s neighbours and friends looking out for each other and dedication to ensuring the most vulnerable in our community are loved, it’s selfless, it’s tireless and it’s given with joy. I want for myself, for Chris and for our children to be part of this community, this church. To be loved by you, to grow with you and to give with you.

Running

I'm a mother and a runner. Before I had our two sons, there was not a lot of things I promised myself I would do. I didn't say I would feed them only organic food or ban TV and video games. I didn't say I wouldn't yell or lose my patience. I did say the kids would see me and my husband being active and doing our own activities. And so they have. As a family we hike, ski and skate. Chris does fencing, hockey and canoeing. I do ballet, yoga and run. I run because it's easy - throw on some shoes and step out the back door. I run because I can get a good workout in less than an hour on a wintery Saturday morning before the kids are out of their pajamas. I run because it's easy to find a group to meet-up with at a local park. I run out my frustrations. I run for fun. But mostly I run so I can finish. I'm not fast or pretty but I finish. And in that finishing, I prove to myself and to my kids that the time and effort it takes to run is worth it. And that's a promise I need to keep.