The long road ahead

I haven't logged onto my blog for many, many weeks; I feel a strange sense of personal guilt about my hiatus, and I didn't want to actually confirm when I last made an entry.  But upon finally taking the plunge today, I see that I haven't visited this site in almost four months.

Since running my half-marathon in March, my miles have gotten slower and much fewer in number.  The weather is often oppressively hot and humid, which doesn't help matters much, but mostly it's just hard for me to find the time and motivation to do much more.   I feel blessed that I have 30-40 minutes each morning for a run -- a claim my poor husband can't share.  I also know that, if only I could tear myself away from Ryder a little more quickly once his nanny walks in our door, I might even have 20 minutes more on the road.  Alas, I cannot.  I simply enjoy every moment I get with Ryder, and especially in the morning, when he's not yet exhausted and either crazy or cranky at the end of a long day.

Watching Le Tour and then the Olympics for the past several weeks, though, has left me yearning to train for a running race and/or get back into good cycling shape.  I feel less like a "runner" these days than simply "someone who runs."  Watching the women's Olympic marathoners collapse after crossing the finish line yesterday actually made me wistful.  It's been a very long time since I've been able to run long and hard enough to "leave it all on the road," and I miss it.

Perhaps my longing to train again is a good sign.  After all, when I asked Zdenek -- a former competitive swimmer -- whether watching the Olympic swimming events made him wish he could be back in the pool, he thought for about two seconds before replying, "Nope."  Yet, I countered, watching Le Tour does make you want to go for a bike ride, right?  He agreed.  It can only mean that he's spent too many years in the pool.  He had a finite number of laps in him, and they're spent.  The bike, on the other hand, is still relatively novel for him (and even more so for me).   When it comes to biking, we still have skills to master, times to improve, and, maybe, races to ride.

The fact that I miss running and cycling so much can only mean that, given the time and freedom once again, I will be back.  There are still a lot of miles left in me.  Perhaps I should be thankful that I'll have something to turn to when Ryder can't wait for me to get out the door.

Headstrong

Recently, Zdenek and I visited one of our local cycling shops in search of a bike helmet for Ryder. A few years ago, we would often spend a few hours on either Saturday or Sunday milling around the cycling shops, checking out the latest models and purchasing unnecessary accessories. Sadly, though, I rode all of twice (I think) last summer on my little red Giant, and Zdenek fared only slightly better. A few weeks ago when a bike catalog arrived in our mailbox, I actually shed a tear in realization of how dearly I miss cycling.  We resolved that night to try to make an effort to cycle at least a few times this summer – with Ryder – by taking advantage of the jogging-stroller-to-bike-trailer conversion feature of our Chariot, but we’re no doubt getting ahead of ourselves. If I’m honest, I bet we’ll cycle once – maybe twice – as a family this entire summer, because it’s going to be a lot of effort to get everyone hitched up and ready to ride:

1. Configure Zdenek’s rear tire to accommodate bike trailer.
2. Zdenek rides elevator down to lobby with his bike while Jodi and Ryder wait in the apartment.
3. Zdenek leaves his bike in the lobby and rides the elevator back up to the apartment.
4. Jodi, Zdenek, and Ryder leave the apartment with Ryder in the bike trailer and Jodi with her bike.
5. Jodi rides elevator down to the lobby with her bike; Zdenek rides in a different elevator with the bike trailer (and hopefully with Ryder still in it).
6. Family reconvenes in lobby. Zdenek hooks up bike trailer (with Ryder in it, assuming he hasn’t been removed due to crappy pants and/or attitude by this time) to his bike.
7. Family rides off together to Central Park and hopefully completes at least one loop.
8. Family returns home, and carries out steps 1-6 in reverse order.

And if that doesn't seem like the most inconvenient 20 minute workout ever designed, consider that the potentially most troublesome step isn’t even outlined: fitting Ryder into his bike helmet.

Like all munchkins his age, Ryder is a fan of patting his head when he hears the word “head,” and retrieving his hat when he hears the word “hat.” He doesn’t, however, like to combine “hat” and “head” together. He seems to prefer the feel of a gentle breeze through his fine blond hair, and hats are always greeted with a (1) toss, and (2) mini-tantrum if a chin strap or other accessory prevents him from tossing it. So despite how bad-ass Ryder’s new little Giro helmet looks with its flaming red design; despite the fact that he knows the word “helmet” and instantly retrieves all three of our helmets (individually) upon hearing it; and despite his obvious amusement at the sight of Zdenek and me wearing our helmets, the kid does not want his helmet on his head for more than a fraction of a second (let’s not even mention the chin strap).

Sadly, though, we won’t be able to cycle unless the little dude’s head is crash-proofed, and I can’t imagine getting him to that state without a lot of crying, kicking, and screaming (by all three of us). I have a feeling that the most difficult thing about cycling together won’t be the early hour at which we need to do it to avoid the crowds, nor the many steps involved in getting our bikes ready to go from our 10th floor apartment. No, the most difficult part about cycling as a family will likely turn out to be the total refusal of the smallest member to wear a simple, but necessary, piece of equipment. It makes me want to bang my head.

A tribute

A few days ago, after running 15.5 miles (my longest run since my 2010 marathon), I began writing a post that was intended as a tribute to my husband.  Without Zdenek, I would never be able to run (or cycle) as frequently and far as I do, and I just wanted to give him a public shout-out to let him know that his support does not go unnoticed.  I never finished the post, unfortunately, but today I found a different way of expressing my gratitude.  The picture below represents a word cloud of my blog, life to-date.  This may be a space ostensibly devoted to chronicling my running and cycling adventures, but I think it's pretty obvious where my true passion lies.

Is that Desitin you're wearing?

It’s been a long time since I’ve had the time or energy to make a simple blog post. Between loads of travel, long hours at work, longer hours with Ryder, and fewer hours running, we are simply out of time most days (and nights). Last Saturday, though, Zdenek and I celebrated six years of wedded bliss. And when I say “bliss,” I truly mean it. The biggest downs we’ve experienced together involved descending a hill in Central Park during a bike ride or morning run.

On Saturday, Ryder gave us both the best anniversary present ever: a run. We haven’t strapped the little dude into his Chariot for some time, because the last few outings were so completely unenjoyable. He’d usually last 30 minutes -- max -- before screaming that it was time to get out, at which point I’d pick up the pace to get home as quickly as possible and Zdenek would start screaming that I was running too fast. But on Saturday morning, Zdenek and I tried our luck again, and I’m glad we did. The little dude is now a slightly bigger dude who seems quite happy to sit in his Chariot for a full sixty minutes, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of Central Park on a weekend morning. In fact, he was so good that we took him for another spin on Sunday, and it went just as smoothly. This weekend, we ran over 11 miles together as a family!

On Saturday evening, Zdenek and I went out for what constituted our first dinner out together -- alone -- since Ryder’s birth. After one too many cocktails, I cozied up to my husband in our booth, leaned over, and kissed his hand. And you know the best part? It didn’t even smell like Desitin.

Best anniversary present ever

Many cocktails later

Lame

It’s been an eventful few days around here. To start, I threw out my back last week. Aside from being extraordinarily uncomfortable and extremely inconvenient, this injury (likely caused by improper bending at the waist to pick up my chunky monkey of a son) brought into sharp relief the fact that I am, sadly, getting old. Back injuries?! Really? Aren’t those reserved for weight lifters and geriatrics?

After cabbing it to my doctor on Thursday to confirm that I did not, thankfully, slip a disk, I heeded the doctor’s advice to remain as active as possible, and shuffled home. Bent at an approximately 70 degree angle, it took me about 90 minutes to traverse 12 short New York City blocks, and I found myself impatient, tired, and incredulous at the fact that not a single person had stopped to ask me whether I was okay or needed help (though I was later reminded by Ryder’s nanny that, in NYC, such inquiries to total strangers are typically ill-advised). With about two blocks to go, I slipped inside a nail salon for an impromptu pedicure -- the only highlight in an otherwise painful and frustrating day.

I seem to be on the mend now, and was able to eek out a very slow three miles yesterday morning, and an equally slow four miles this morning. The humidity in New York seems to be abating, and this is the perfect running (shuffle?) weather. Unfortunately, on the same day that I injured my back, my poor Zdenek confirmed that he has suffered his second broken bone in both 2011 and his life. It seems that his quick dirt-biking jaunt with my seven year-old niece on our recent trip home did some serious damage when he was thrown to the pavement, and Zdenek must now contend with a fractured elbow for the next six weeks. On Thursday morning we sat together, relatively lame and unable to throw Ryder around in the style to which he’s now accustomed (in fact, I could barely pick the kid up until yesterday), and feeling like useless old horses waiting to be put out of their misery. And much to Zdenek’s chagrin, he can’t even fit his torn-up toes into his cycling shoes without experiencing severe pain. But at least he can run.

And so just as Zdenek and I are once again ready to feel the ground move beneath our feet, the ground actually did move beneath my feet today. Around 2 pm, high up in my 31st floor office, I experienced a “boom” and then a few, relatively big shakes of my office building. I was forced to evacuate via the stairs, every muscle in my lower back resonating on each step of the 31 flights that I had to descend.

It was later confirmed that an earthquake struck the East Coast today, and, to be honest, it was a pretty cool sensation. It was, however, something I’m in no hurry to experience again. Zdenek and I are getting old and lame. We need to be careful with every bend we make and every step we take. I don’t need any ground tremors complicating matters further.

Life in the fast lane

Last weekend, Zdenek and I packed Ryder, a travel crib, and two suitcases worth of bibs, diapers, onesies, rompers, and bottles, and we headed off with good friends to the Poconos in Pennsylvania. Departing NYC in our rental car at 4 pm on a Friday in the summer was a brave (stupid?) move, especially considering that it was in the middle of a record-breaking heat wave. Never mind: we strapped Ryder into his car seat, scattered a few teething toys around him, and hoped for the best.

Despite the heat, the boy handled things pretty well for the first 90 minutes or so. He played with his toys, stared out the window, and eventually dozed off for half an hour. But upon waking, he realized that (a) he was still restrained, (b) it was pretty close to his dinnertime, and (c) it was almost bed time. And that's when the screaming started. Mom and Dad, unaccustomed to traveling with Ryder in a car, didn't know what to do. We were stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic across five lanes, and, according to the map feature on my iPhone, were pretty much going to stay that way for the next 40 minutes. So I headed into the backseat to distract my boy with silly sounds and peek-a-boo, which worked -- for a while. But when Ryder finally decided that he had really had enough (or rather, when we decided that we couldn't handle the screaming anymore), we had to make a quick turn-off to feed him and take a break. He was delighted. Then we strapped him in again, and he screamed the rest of the way to our destination.

I realize that most parents travel everywhere by car with their little ones, and screaming is probably par for the course. But for Zdenek, Ryder, and me, this was a pretty novel experience. I think I've figured out why: Ryder is rarely restrained for more than 15 minutes at a time, and when he is, he's got an impressive number of cars, people, dogs, trees, etc. to entertain him. We go everywhere by foot. He's out our door and at the store within 10 minutes. He's at the Park within 15, and then promptly put on the swing. He never, ever has to wait or sit patiently. For anything. I am sure that New Yorkers' impatience and short fuses are nurtured from birth.

I can only hope that Ryder's detest for sitting idle will some day translate into a super-energetic, over-achieving athleticism. Until then, my little Manhattanite will continue to live life in the fast lane from the comfort of his stroller.

Much to remember

Back in early January, when I wrote a group-wide email message to my colleagues announcing Ryder’s birth, one of my coworkers responded with a line that has stuck with me and that I remember almost every day: You will find that, once you have kids, time passes much more quickly.

During those early weeks of sleepless nights and pure exhaustion, time couldn’t pass quickly enough, and I wanted to roll my eyes at every well-meaning stranger who would tell me to “enjoy it because they grow up so fast.” Truth be told, Ryder really could have skipped those first 10-12 weeks altogether and I don’t think I would have minded much. But now that he’s a bit older and becoming exponentially more fun on an almost daily basis, I am starting to notice that time does indeed seem to be passing much too quickly. Over the last week, this realization was compounded by several anniversaries of various events in my life and those of whom I love most:

* Sixty-some-odd years ago this past week, my mother came into the world. Although Zdenek likes to tell me that I am the world’s greatest mom, I know that that title rightfully belongs to the extraordinary woman who raised me, and I miss her immensely across the miles.

* Thirty years ago this past week, Zdenek’s mother and father defected from their home in then-communist Czechoslovakia. It goes without saying that that bold move altered the course of history (or at least my own and that of Ryder, who would otherwise still be dark matter floating in the universe).

* Eight years ago this past week, Zdenek and I were introduced by a mutual friend at a bar on Toronto's Queen Street. Believe me when I say that I went home that night thinking that he might be “the one.”

* One year ago this past week, Zdenek and I flew to Canada to visit both of our parents and announce that there would soon be a new member in our family.

* Also one year ago this past week, I was still enjoying long bike rides and 10+ mile runs in Central Park on a weekly basis. (This past weekend, with Zdenek’s parents in town, I actually managed to cycle on both Saturday and Sunday -- the first time I’ve been on my little red Giant since March!) I remember racing around the Park feeling fantastic and finding it difficult to believe that there was actually another little person inside of me. Who would have thought that it would be easier to run 10 miles with him in than out?

Sometimes my friends without children ask whether I miss my “old life” or whether I think about having more kids. Of course I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit that it would be nice to stay up until midnight knowing that I could sleep in until 10 am if I so desired, that I’d love to be able to leave the house after 7 pm to enjoy a stroll with Zdenek on a beautiful summer evening, or that I don’t stare wistfully at my bike and wonder when I’ll ever have the opportunity to go for a three hour ride again.

But I have to remember how quickly time has already passed, and that it certainly is not slowing down. It won’t be too much longer before I’ll look back and reminisce about the summer of 2011, when Ryder was just a little package of delicious baby and Zdenek and I were able to take him for stroller rides in Central Park and push him on the swings at Riverside Park. The next time I’m at mile 25 in a marathon and wondering, once again, what possessed me to subject myself to that kind of torture, I’m sure I’ll wish that time would pass more quickly. For now, I’ll try to remember to savor every moment.

New obsessions

We’re now a few days into July, which marks the beginning of both summer and le Tour. Alas, my days of being able to stay up until late, intensely focused on that day’s Stage, are behind me: while I’ve always been a pretty early-to-bed kind of girl, my attention span these days is markedly shorter than it ever was. It seems that if I am not actually doing something with Ryder (i.e. holding, hugging, kissing, changing, feeding, cleaning, etc.), then I am always thinking about him or how to care for him. After a few minutes of cycling action on tv (and yes, we’re in high def this year), I find myself inexplicably drawn to the plethora of baby-related books and manuals on my coffee table. Recently we started Ryder on solids (avocados, bananas, oatmeal, and watermelon are all huge hits so far -- clearly he’s my boy!), and so while I’ve just finished learning everything I need to know about baby sleep patterns and developmental milestones, I’m suddenly having to learn all about making and freezing homemade baby food and just how much iron my little guy actually needs in a day.

Ryder clearly rules our roost. I’m sure (or at least I hope!) that it’s a first-time parent thing, but too often I catch Zdenek and me having a conversation at the dinner table that might go something like this:

Parent 1: Do you think his second nap was long enough today?
Parent 2: Maybe, but then he also had that short catnap in the morning, don’t forget.
Parent 1: Right. Maybe we shouldn’t have taken him out in the stroller at
that time...
Parent 2: Perhaps. But how many hours of sleep did he get
yesterday?
Parent 1: Let me check the log.

And so on.

In fact, this past weekend, I managed to detach for a minute and listen to Zdenek and me, and it was obvious that we are both (a) obsessed, and (b) completely boring.

It’s therefore nice to know that we have at least a few other things in our lives that are completely unrelated to Ryder. For one, I’m still running 4-6 times each week (Ryder could be related to this if he so desired, but he’s made his dislike for the running stroller pretty apparent), and though the miles are short, they are always sweet. Zdenek has recently been getting back into the habit of crawling out of bed at 5:30 am to take his bike for a spin in Central Park; I’m happy he’s doing this, because running is a bit tough for him in the sticky summertime. And when we were watching le Tour a couple of nights ago, we did manage to have a conversation that had nothing at all to do with Ryder -- namely, we discussed whether Garmin-Cervelo had anyone worthy in the GC and debated whether Team Radioshack is full of dopers (I say “yes”). (Let’s forget, for the moment, that Ryder is actually named after a member of Team Garmin…)

I’m really, really looking forward to the day that Ryder is a bit older and he can run and cycle with us. To be sure, there are many times that I want to stop time altogether and savor every morsel of his adorable six-month self, and when it makes me want to cry to think how quickly he’s already growing up. But once he’s able to share the fun of running and cycling with us, maybe Zdenek and I will be able to spend a little less time talking about Ryder and more time engaged with him in the activities we love.

There will come a day when the only Ryder-related log will be the one tracking his daily miles. I’m sure of it.

The family that runs together...

Yesterday after dinner, Zdenek and I settled in to watch (and fast forward) through the previously broadcast Boston Marathon. Boston is always one of the year's highlights, and yesterday's race proved to be an especially exciting one. (I was, however, a bit perturbed to see that the conditions were conducive to a blistering fast, record-setting pace, and thus couldn't have been more different from the day I ran Beantown. Maybe someday I'll have a return showing to try my luck again; given the new qualifying standards and procedures, though, I doubt it.)

Watching Ryan Hall give his post-race interview, I was, as always, awestruck by his positive attitude and accomplishments in the sport. And then I began daydreaming about how happy it would make me if Ryder becomes a serious runner (let alone a world-class one). When compared with other sports (e.g. swimming, hockey, baseball, cycling), running is convenient, cheap, and will likely keep you in good shape for the rest of your life. Indeed, I can point to a lot of fat ex-swimmers and ex-hockey players, but very few fat ex-competitive runners. This is due, I think, to the simple fact that running can be maintained without teams, coaches, and fancy facilities: once a runner, always a runner. And while I never want to be that parent, and Ryder will certainly have to find his own passions in life, I hope that I can nudge him in the running direction just a little. He might, after all, stand a chance at being semi-competitive: great endurance runners tend to be short (check), and have strong hearts (hopefully, check).

Happily, we're on our way to setting him on that course. Zdenek was cleared for running last week, and we enjoyed two "family runs" in Central Park over the weekend. It's great to have my husband back at my side, and also nice to have someone share the load when pushing Ryder in the Chariot. I look forward to the day when Ryder can cycle his little bike beside me on my morning run, and then, someday, run beside me (until he leaves me in the dust altogether). And even if he's never world-class, I hope that he, like his mom and dad, is able to find joy and good health in the simple ritual of putting one foot in front of the other.

Timing

The update: Zdenek is still dealing with broken metatarsal bones and has been unable to run, but today he heads to the doctor to (hopefully) get the go-ahead to resume normal physical activity. In the meantime, he's managed to fit in a couple of bike rides, but that's clearly insufficient to keep him both happy and as fit as he'd like. Our cumulative sleep deprivation is starting to wear on both of us, and, though Ryder is obviously the love of our lives, I can admit that it was kind of nice last night when he went to bed at 7 pm, and we enjoyed an "adults only" evening (consisting of leftovers for dinner and the BBC news) before heading to bed. (Of course, even though Ryder slept well, neither of us managed to do the same, as I think we've actually forgotten how to sleep more than a couple of hours at a stretch. I can't believe it, but it's true.)

In other "I can't believe it" news, a funny thing happened a couple of weekends ago when I headed out for an eight mile run in the Park. Zdenek took Ryder out in the stroller to enjoy the sunny weather, and we agreed to meet back at home for lunch in about an hour. I managed to beat them home by about 5 minutes, and when Zdenek came home, he told me that he thought had seen me running in the Park, but wasn't convinced it was me. Why? Because I was too fast. That's right. You read that correctly: Too fast. Apparently, he saw a girl who looked like me, was dressed like me, and ran mostly like me, except that she was much faster than he was accustomed to seeing.

Turns out, it was me, and indeed, I am faster these days. I haven't run over 8.5 miles in four or five months, but I am managing to post my fastest paces ever, even with only bits and pieces of sleep to fuel me. I think it's due to having (a) limited time to fit in the miles, and so every mile must be run quickly, and (b) 10 fewer pounds on my frame. I really feel that, if I began serious training, I might be able to crack 3:20 in a marathon right now. The sad irony is that just as I'm posting good times, I have no time to put them to good use.

Perhaps once our schedules even out a bit more, I'll try for a 10K race sometime soon. I've never raced that distance before and so I wouldn't even know what to expect, but it can't hurt to try something new. And besides, 2011 will need to be the year of running quickly, because parenting is the only endurance event on my calendar this year.

One great hour

As I've been strolling Ryder through the Park in recent weeks, I've been rather jealous of the many cyclists whizzing by me during the daylight hours. Although I have no idea who these people are that don't seem to work but instead spend their afternoons cruising around on $5,000 bikes, I'd still like to be one of them. Lately I've been thinking, Are my cycling days over (at least for the next few years)? Sure, Zdenek and I can hook Ryder up the back of our bikes in his Chariot stroller in a few months' time, but we won't be able to cruise fast down the hills or draft quite so closely with a baby in tow. Are we destined for leisurely family rides and nothing more? When will I ever get the chance to ride fast on my little red Giant again?

And then, yesterday, it happened. Since breaking his foot a few weeks ago, Zdenek has been unable to do anything more than walk 15 city blocks daily. He's been starting to get a wee bit annoyed at the lack of physical activity in his life, and figured that he's now feeling good enough to fit his foot into a cycling shoe and snap it into his pedals. Although I was a bit dubious and didn't want him to unnecessarily stress his broken bones or set back his recovery in any way, the man could not be persuaded otherwise (and I don't blame him).

So with the weather just above freezing yesterday and with Babi here to babysit, Zdenek and I pulled down our bikes, pumped up the tires, and set off. The wind was absolutely howling and I was concerned that I might have forgotten how to ride my bike altogether. After all, the last time I rode was in August when I was five months pregnant!

But the second we got going, we were flying. We rode for one hour together (Zdenek never getting out of his saddle but me still struggling to keep up with him on the uphills), and it was awesome. I have really, really missed cycling. Maybe on Saturday we'll get one more ride in before Babi departs.

Mobile

"Mobile" seems to be the word of the day around here. We can use it in many different ways:

* Last week was a great week to be MOBILE. I actually hit 40 miles, thanks to some awesome babysitting help from Baba.

* Sadly, Baba is no longer around. Earlier this week, we were MOBILE by flying back to NYC. To say that I was overwhelmed / nervous / petrified about finally being left entirely on my own with the babe would be an understatement.

* On Monday evening -- his birthday, no less -- Zdenek decided to run a Ryder-related errand at the hospital administration office. On the way there, he managed to step wrong and break two bones in his foot, landing himself a trip to the ER (good thing it was only down the hallway). My husband is now completely imMOBILE for the next six weeks. (Once again, though, Zdenek has proven himself to be a champ. Not one utterance of a complaint or whine has crossed his lips, despite the fact that he's been instructed to not walk more than 15 city blocks per day for the next month and a half. I don't know how he does it, but my husband has the most outstanding attitude of anyone I know.)

* Yesterday, leaving my imMOBILE husband at home with Ryder (which made me feel very badly), I ran 8 minute miles in the Park. Perhaps the higher altitude training + a few days off from running gave me an extra boost (because it definitely wasn't due to being well-rested!).

* I just managed to put Ryder down for a nap all by himself (i.e. no holding, rocking, shushing, etc.), and I think the magic touch was the bassinet MOBILE. As soon as I put it over his little head, he was mesmerized. And soon, asleep. Ah, small victories...

Hello from the Great White North

Ryder and I have been in Calgary since Wednesday and, though we miss Zdenek a (metric) tonne, it's nice to be back in my original hometown: I had a great haircut and highlights on Friday at a high-end salon that still cost me much less than in New York City. And yesterday at the mall, I was suprised to find that my frozen yogurt was free, because the customer ahead of me (whom I never even saw) decided to "pay it forward" and buy the next customer's snack. For a moment I thought there might be a hidden camera -- these things just don't happen in Manhattan!

Blog posts these days obviously are few and far between. In the few moments I have between feedings and diaper changes, I'm usually trying to sneak in a shower or a run, or grab something to eat myself. Running is going well, and I feel fantastic when I'm doing it, but I wish I had time to fit in more than 20 miles each week (and thank goodness for Baba, or I wouldn't even have the opportunity for that!).

Fortunately, I've found a baby jogger / bike trailer / cross-country ski carrier that Ryder can use ASAP, and it has the added bonus of being made by a company headquartered in Calgary! Zdenek and I have already settled on our colour (red -- to match both of our bikes), and he's going to place the order this week. By the time Ryder and I are back in the Big Apple, Central Park will be our oyster (or at least that's what I'm hoping). It's going to be tough pushing around an extra 35+ pounds on my runs, but I'm willing to do it for the sake of getting outdoors with my little guy and fitting in the upper body strength training that I've been neglecting of late.

Running around

The verb "run" has taken on a new meaning in the last few weeks: most of the "running" I'm doing these days is within the confines of my apartment or around the Upper West Side, and involves a lot of back-and-forth between changing pads, bassinets, and nursing pillows. While this post must be kept short and sweet (like my +1), I thought it best to update it now while I at least have a few moments to spare (which are also short and sweet these days).

I went for the last 4.5 mile run of my pregnancy on December 31 and, on January 1, it became clear that it was "show time." One day later, on January 2, Zdenek and I welcomed Ryder into the world. He performed well during the event, and weighed in at a perfect seven pounds. (And I guess it turns out that all that extra mileage didn't mean a girl, after all.)

Mommy recovered very quickly and headed back out for power walks within the first week. Twelve days after giving birth, I headed out for my first post-baby run. All things considered, it felt pretty good (though I was somewhat disappointed to discover that any weight lost around my belly seems to have migrated to my chest), and I was pleasantly surpised to find myself running just over 8 minutes/mile on the first go. Since then, I've run several more times (when Baba is around to watch the little guy) and can comfortably run 6 or 7 miles in 8:30-8:40 minutes/mile. To run further, I'll either have to wait until Ryder can go longer between feedings or until I can run a whole lot faster! For now, I'm satisfied with my quick rebound to running health, and I'm already looking forward to my next seven miler on Saturday.

After Baba leaves, Daddy and Mommy will have to run individually again so that someone can stay home with Ryder. It goes without saying that I will definitely miss both of the training partners who have accompanied me on almost every run and ride over the past nine months.

We are family

To borrow a phrase that Zdenek used recently, all is (still) quiet on the Eastern front. The +1 seems to be enjoying his/her current abode, and has made no indications that he/she is ready to face life in the Big Apple outside the comfort of my uterus. It could still be a long haul from here. I'm due tomorrow, but don't feel anything close to it.

In fact, I'm feeling remarkably good, and as a result, Zdenek and I have enjoyed a lovely "staycation" together this week. It's the first Christmas we've spent apart from our families, but, as Zdenek reminded me last week, we are family. And so we've indulged in a week of great baking, cooking, and eating; logging 8-9 hours of sleep each night; strolls through the piles of snow that fell on Boxing Day; daily runs in Central Park together (I'm still running 4-5 miles each day in sub-10 minute/mile pace!); shopping and movies (we've now seen every major contender for this year's Best Picture); and one very lavish lunch at one of New York's finest establishments. Best of all, unlike some vacations, this one has been completely void of any arguments, drama, or stress.

Though one of the members hasn't been brave enough to show their face, this family has had a most memorable Christmas vacation together.

This is only a test

With the holidays fast approaching and my due date looming, Zdenek and I have been contemplating the “ideal” day to have the baby (as if we have any choice in the matter). An earlier arrival might suck for the little one who has to share his/her birthday with the Christmas holiday every year; on the other hand, it would be good timing from a work perspective for both Zdenek and me. A later arrival, however, means a few more days to enjoy life without a crying baby in the room, and sometimes this seems even more attractive than the 2010 tax credit we’d earn if the delivery day comes before the year is through.

Recently, though, I’ve been leaning towards “later is better,” if only because I feel entirely unprepared to look after a baby. I know what everyone says: You’re never ready. You’ll figure it out. Instinct takes over. Once it’s your baby, it will be totally different. But still, I can’t help but feel that, despite the hours of “baby care” classes in which we’ve invested and the books I’ve sifted through, I won’t really have a clue what I’m doing.

To frame things in a perspective to which I can relate, I’ve tried to compare the first few months of baby-rearing to running a marathon: I’ve done the work to get here. I’ve read the books and followed the plan. Now we’re in taper, and I’m starting to feel antsy and achy and unprepared. I start to question whether I should have put in a just a little more effort along the way, or if there’s anything I can do between now and game day to improve my chances of a strong performance. The coaches will tell me that there’s nothing more to be done; now I just need to give it my best effort. When race day arrives, adrenaline will probably get me through the first bit of the course. By the halfway point, a small bump in the road is going to feel like scaling Mount Everest. Two-thirds of the way in, I’ll start to question whether I’m cut out for this at all, and soon after that, self-doubt and exhaustion may lead me to swear under my breath that I will never, ever do this again. And then, I’ll somehow stumble across the finish line (often leaning over to one side), too tired to contemplate the feat I’ve just accomplished. Some time later, when I’m recovered and things are back on their usual schedule, I’ll marvel at the experience and remember the thrill of it all, and the suffering will have seemed a small price to pay for such a rewarding outcome. And so I’ll decide to do it again (perhaps even seven more times!).

Over the weekend, when I mentioned my self-doubts to Zdenek, he offered a different analogy: “Don’t you remember the feeling in university when you’d walk into an exam feeling totally unprepared and like you were going to bomb it, and you ended up acing it instead?” I don’t know if Zdenek feels as confident on the inside as he’s appearing to be on the outside, but either way, I’m glad that one of us isn’t stressing too much about this. Because at some point last night, when I again became overwhelmed by the daunting task that lies ahead of me, the only things that eventually lulled me back to sleep were Zdenek’s incredible patience and his calming words (if I haven’t mentioned it enough, let me again say that my husband is the world’s greatest). This morning, as he headed off to work, exhausted both physically and mentally but not complaining one bit, I told him that he had proven himself capable of soothing someone in the middle of the night and sacrificing his own sleep to so. By his own analogy, he had aced the test. Which makes me incredibly lucky to be in his study group.
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P.S. Yes, I'm still running, and it still feels pretty darn good. I ran 6.5 miles in one shot on Saturday, but decided to stop there due to thirst (apparently dehydration brings on labor, but I try to restrict the liquids when I'm running). Here's a photo of me in my new running gear:

Recipe for a perfect winter morning

A perfect morning goes something like this:

1. Waking up after eight full hours of sleep.
2. Seeing the first dusting of snow on the ground.
3. Heading out for a 4.5 mile run with my husband in the cold winter air.
4. Having Central Park mostly to ourselves because New Yorkers can't handle it when the mercury dips below freezing.
5. Running a relatively easy ~9:20 pace without needing to stop once.
6. Enjoying a bagel with Nutella for breakfast, while laughing out loud reading this.

Doctor Z

I was finally given permission to post this photo that was taken a few weeks ago. I feel secure knowing that a willing and able doctor resides in my house.

Dispatch from the pumpkin patch

This past weekend, Zdenek and I escaped the hustle and bustle of Manhattan with our good friends, Dave and Erica (who are expecting their +1 eight weeks before ours, so I’m counting on them to teach me everything I’ll need to know). We headed north for a luxury log cabin in the Hudson Valley -- a site we last visited in the snowier, colder days of February. After a week of rainy weather that seemed to cover the entire East Coast, we were treated to cloudless blue skies, warm sunshine, and gorgeous fall foliage. We managed to pick apples, hike around the State Park, prepare a three course meal that incorporated our picked apples into every course, and pay a visit to the Storm King Art Center (a place quite unlike any other I’ve seen).

On both Saturday and Sunday, Zdenek and I got up a little earlier than Dave and Erica. We shared a Clif bar, drank our requisite cups of coffee, and changed into our running shoes. Soon we were running through (very) hilly back roads and down gravel lanes, past corn fields and streams, overlooking valleys of orange, yellow, red, and green. Though the sun shone clearly, the air was definitely of the crisp, autumn variety, and I probably could have used a slightly warmer shirt. These were difficult runs, to say the least, and there were a couple of long, steep inclines on each route that slowed me to a walk. But the breathtaking views and peaceful surroundings made every ounce of hard effort worth it. Zdenek excitedly remarked no fewer than five times on each run how happy he was to be there.

After Sunday morning’s run, Zdenek and I sat on the patio rocking chairs for a while, looking out onto the forest with steaming mugs of coffee warming our hands. Tired and content, I don’t think we would have savored that moment nearly as much had we not just run -- side by side -- through the autumn leaves. At a time when everything around us seems to be changing so quickly, running has a funny way of making time stand still.

The Spain run-down

Having just returned from a beautiful trip to Spain, I think I have finally learned how to correctly assess accommodation. If the directions to the accommodation include the phrases, “up the hill,” “keep going,” and “located right at the top,” and especially if they mention something about a 4WD being absolutely essential, then I should expect my running opportunities to be both limited and difficult.

To be fair, the point of this vacation wasn’t supposed to be about running, but I have a hard time sitting motionless for any longer than two or three days at a time. Fortunately for me, Zdenek and I were on our feet almost all of the time -- in fact, of 11 days, I think only three of them qualify as lazy lounging days. We arrived in Madrid, jetlagged and exhausted after barely catching more than a couple hours of shut-eye on the flight over (and Zdenek even less so due to the very rude passenger behind him who refused to let Zdenek recline his seat by even one inch). After a snooze in our hotel room, we hit the streets of Madrid to find them baking hot but remarkably clean. Three days and at least 15-18 miles of walking later, we had traversed most of the major sites by foot and were left thoroughly impressed by the vibrancy, architectural beauty, and spotlessness of the Spanish capital. We even managed a 5.5 mile run by completing two loops around Retiro Park -- Madrid’s answer to New York’s Central Park. It wasn’t quite as spacious as our favourite piece of home turf, but the lack of humidity more than made up for this.

Next we headed to Seville, at which point in the trip I wound up horribly sick and unable to find any pharmacist willing to dispense a single drug to me in my embarazada state. So I suffered through the 40+ degree heat by mostly staying inside my hotel room, feeling miserable, and making poor Zdenek’s life miserable, too (sorry, honey). We did manage to enjoy most of what this historic and charming city has to offer, though, including an excellent flamenco show in the birthplace of the dance itself.

Just as I was feeling a bit better, we headed to the Costa del Sol to hobnob with Europe’s rich and famous and see the surrounding areas (including Ronda and Granada -- I cannot recommend the latter highly enough). Here, we plunked down for six nights in a hillside villa overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. I did manage to run on four days during our stay in Marbella -- it was straight up and straight down in each direction, providing an excellent workout for my quads and butt irrespective of my slow speed. But similar to our stay in Costa Rica earlier in the year, I’m pretty sure that these accommodations were not situated with long, relaxing runs in mind.

For better or worse, though, I simply had to get out there as much as possible. I read Born to Run on this vacation, and if there was ever a book to inspire you to run far and frequently, this is it. (I even became moderately convinced of the merits of barefoot running, and I do intend to try out the shoeless approach -- or something approximating it -- very soon.) I was reminded that running is truly the healthiest and most natural thing we can ever do for our bodies and our minds, and that, indeed, we wouldn’t be here today had our ancestors not been endurance runners themselves. Every time I read even a few pages of this book, I was itching to put it down and change into my running shoes -- blazing sun, lingering sickness, and lazy Spanish days be dammed. (Next time, if I really intend on relaxing, I think I need to book accommodation even higher on the mountain or re-think my choice of vacation reading material.)

And after arriving back in NYC following more than 15 hours of travel, the first thing Zdenek and I did was change into our shorts and head out for a four mile run in Central Park. It was, after all, our final vacation day.