Pace Yourself

I've never been very good at this. At least as far back as I can remember.

I think it all started with having children though. You know how it goes. The kids come along and your life is all about their needs/wants and you put yourself on the back burner. You do it gladly. Willingly.

And the results are amazing! As far as the kids go. Not so much for myself personally.

It's been three years since the youngest lovely moved out to attend college and I still haven't learned how to pace myself. I rushed the things I needed to do for 25 years so that I would always be available to the lovelies and I cannot seem to find my groove in a slower pace.

This seems to be a problem on my path to health and fitness as well. I want it all. And I want it now.

Am I afraid to work for it? Nope. I just don't want to wait for it. I want it NOW. It's not going to happen that way. So I'm going to try to slow down, pay attention and get this thing done.

This week I am going to focus on my running. I have gotten quite annoyed with this process. In my mind I should be running a 5k by now. And I'm not. It's attitude adjustment time, y'all. Again.

The first thing I did was sit down and figure out the thing that makes the running hardest for me- and I don't mean the heat or the humidity or the bugs--those are excuses.

It's the breathing. I cannot seem to sync my breathing.

Research time.

Some of you may recall that I discovered a new-to-me website, DailyFeats where they offer challenges in the form of lists and you check off each feat you complete on a daily basis. One of my challenges is through the site, Greatist, and they have TONS of info about exercising. Including how to breathe while running! WHAT?!

According to Greatist, it boils down to is this: there doesn't seem to be a 'rule' for breathing while running. Oh. HOWEVER, they do suggest taking one breath for every two strikes of your foot. For example, breathe in for two steps (right, left) and then breathe out for two steps (right, left). Apparently this will keep your internal organs from putting pressure on your diaphragm which will, in turn, make breathing easier. (Just click the links and you can read all about what they have to say).

Ok, armed with this information (which Birdie did tell me to try a couple of months ago and I forgot), I went out for my morning run.

RE-FREAKING-MARKABLE!

I'm not even kidding, y'all, one little bit. It made all the difference. ALL. THE. DIFFERENCE.

Yes. It IS a bit difficult to focus on monitoring the breathing. Even so, this was incredible. At least for today. And, should I find a little patience, this will soon become second nature. I won't have to focus so much and will be able to just enjoy the run. That's my plan anyway.

I'm looking for two things now--

1. A good running trainer app for either my android phone or my iPod. If you have suggestions, please let me know.
2. A summer weight loss challenge.

And now---it's time for day 19 of the 30 Day Shred. I'm not scared of you Jillian Michaels! Bring it on girl! WooHoo! 

How do you pace yourself?

Mother's Day

Mother and me about 1966

I know you've all seen and read When God Made Mothers by Erma Bombeck. I've had a copy for YEARS myself. But I never tire of reading it.

So, in honor of Mother's Day and all you wonderful moms out there- here it is once again:


By the time the Lord made mothers, he was into his sixth day of working overtime. An Angel appeared and said "Why are you spending so much time on this one"? And the Lord answered and said, "Have you seen the spec sheet on her? She has to be completely washable, but not plastic; have 200 movable parts, all replaceable; run on black coffee and leftovers; have a lap that can hold three children at one time and that disappears when she stands up; have a kiss that can cure anything from a scraped knee to a broken heart, and have six pairs of hands."


The Angel was astounded at the requirements for this one. "Six pairs of hands! No Way!" said the Angel.

The Lord replied, "Oh, it's not the hands that are the problem. It's the three pairs of eyes that mothers must have!"

"And that's just on the standard model?" The Angel asked.

The Lord nodded in agreement, "Yes, one pair of eyes are to see through the closed door as she asks her children what they are doing even though she already knows. Another pair in the back of her head, are to see what she needs to know even though no one thinks she can. And the third pair are here in the front of her head. They are for looking at an errant child and saying that she understands and loves him or her without even saying a single word."

The Angel tried to stop the Lord. "This is too much work for one day. Wait until tomorrow to finish."

"But I can't!" the Lord protested, "I am so close to finishing this creation that is so close to my own heart. She already heals herself when she is sick AND can feed a family of six on a pound of hamburger and can get a nine year old to stand in the shower."

The Angel moved closer and touched the woman, "But you have made her so soft, Lord."

"Yes, she is soft", the Lord agreed, "But I have also made her tough. You have no idea what she can endure or accomplish."

"Will she be able to think?", asked the inquisitive Angel.

The Lord smiled and replied, "Not only will she be able to think, she will be able to reason, and negotiate."

The Angel then noticed something and reached out and touched the woman's cheek. "Oops, it looks like you have a leak with this model. I told you that you were trying to put too much into this one."

"That's not a leak." The Lord objected. "That is a tear!"

"What's the tear for? the Angel asked.

The Lord said, "The tear is her way of expressing her joy, her sorrow, her disappointment, her pain, her loneliness, her grief, and her pride."

The Angel was impressed. "You are a genius, Lord. You thought of everything! Truly, You do all things well... Moms are truly amazing!"

Happy Mother's Day Y'all!

Hope you're having a wonderfully delightful day filled with family and laughter! 

Proud to be a Mom

When our four daughters were growing up, they gave Hubs and myself many reasons to be proud.  Hubs' pride was always understated because he's laid back like that.  On the other hand, my display of pride resembled a more-than-normal-puffed-up-feathers-out-long-neck-beak-up Peacock.  I suppose I should have been embarrassed by my blatant pride-filled display but I was not.  To be honest, why should I have been embarrassed?  I carried each of those babies for nine months AND birthed them.  I was entitled and I do not do anything half-way.

I shined that pride on the soccer field sidelines; at softball games; at dance and and band competitions; at chorus and orchestra performances; at the handing out of academic awards and college scholarships.  Shoot, I was prancing proudly all over this town.  "That's MY child out there winning everything."  "See that one right there, the one that just scored?  That's mine."  "See the beautiful blond center front?  My child."  "The one right there with the marvelous bravado?  MINE."  "The one that sounds just like an angel from Heaven?  MY daughter."  "Our girls?  Yes, we're four-for-four on attending college."  Yepper doodle.  I was THAT proud mom.

Funny thing, though, when your lovelies grow up, things change.  Oh, the pride is still there.  Yes indeed.  But since they've grown up, my pride is more in awe of the young adults that my girls have become.

Now, our lovelies are 26, 24, 22, and 19.  The oldest is married; the second is living it up in DC; the third one just graduated from college and is off to grad school; and the baby has just completed her sophomore year in college.  They are not little any more.  But the sense of pride that they instill within my heart of hearts is more than it ever was before.

It is at this point, when they have reached young adulthood, that I have discovered my true source of pride.  It's in the wonderful, independent, compassionate young women that they have grown up to be.  My pride swells when they share their joys and sorrows with one another and their deepest secrets; knowing that each one is there for each other.  My pride rises to new heights every time one of the lovelies shows her loyalty and gives her utmost support to a friend.  My pride surges when I see one of them rise to the occasion and point out an injustice.  My pride balloons every time one of my precious babes shows diligence and dedication to her work.  My pride overflows when one of them stands her ground when confronted and defends her ideas or someone in need.  My pride billows when my precious ones shed tears for those who are abused or neglected or hurt--both animal and human--and then rise up to fight such atrocities.  My feathers will even fan out in proud display when I see that my girls know how to laugh at themselves. 

Yes, I am a proud mother.  I have four of the most amazing daughters on the face of the earth.  And, yes, I still have the trophies and certificates and letters of acceptance still proudly displayed throughout our home.  But all of that pales in comparison to the pride I feel about the amazing adults they have become.


This is my entry to the Proud Mom's Contest.  Two proud moms will win $50!  The contest is sponsored by UPrinting event ticket printing services.