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.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Done for another day
The lack of updates on this blog in my post-baby world is indicative of the fact that I don't seem to have much time for anything these days between Ryder, Zdenek, work, and home. My runs are getting shorter and shorter as I find myself busier and increasingly stretched (and I don't mean the ability to touch my toes). A "long" run these days is typically six miles, though on occasion I've been thrilled to fit in about eight. Mid-week runs average about four miles. I went from 40-mile-weeks during pregnancy (and even the odd 40-mile-week when I had my mom available for round-the-clock babysitting), to 20-30 mile-weeks today (though it's on the low end).
On Saturday, my long run consisted of pushing Ryder in the Chariot alongside Zdenek, and having to cut things short at 5.5 miles because Ryder, frankly, had had enough. No worries -- it was hot and sticky out, and I figured I'd get a longer run in on Sunday morning. But after one too many glasses of wine on Saturday night, I found myself exhausted, mildly hungover, and very sleep-deprived on Sunday morning. Running was the last thing I wanted to do that day, so I opted instead for a delicious breakfast, a more delicious lunch, and a heavy, carb-filled pasta dinner.
And all of this got me thinking, Maybe my running days are slowly winding down. I'm in a perpetual state of fatigue and always feeling crunched for time. Spending a few more hours relaxing with my family or just lazing around with the Sunday Times is far more enjoyable, no? Do I have the energy, excitement, and time for anything more than the occasional three miles these days? As I crawled into bed last night, I had almost resigned myself to the label of "former runner," at least until life slows down a bit (and goodness knows it will probably be years before that happens).
But perhaps it was the fully carbo-loaded feeling in my belly that encouraged me, or perhaps it was just the anxiousness of facing another busy week ahead on this Monday morning. Whatever the source of my motivation, today I forced myself to hand Ryder over to his nanny, tie up my laces, and try for a few miles. A few turned into three, then four -- and when I realized I was about to run 5.5, I decided to just complete the whole Central Park loop. I returned home to find the boy still napping, and so quickly ran an ice-cold shower before he had time to wake up. And as I was heading to rinse off, my nanny said, "Don't you feel good now, knowing you're all done for the day?"
Hmph. It was only a few hours into my morning, and I was "done for the day." No matter what the rest of the day may bring at work or at home, I can put a big check-box in my calendar. She was right. I did feel good. Maybe I'll try to keep up this running thing a while longer.
On Saturday, my long run consisted of pushing Ryder in the Chariot alongside Zdenek, and having to cut things short at 5.5 miles because Ryder, frankly, had had enough. No worries -- it was hot and sticky out, and I figured I'd get a longer run in on Sunday morning. But after one too many glasses of wine on Saturday night, I found myself exhausted, mildly hungover, and very sleep-deprived on Sunday morning. Running was the last thing I wanted to do that day, so I opted instead for a delicious breakfast, a more delicious lunch, and a heavy, carb-filled pasta dinner.
And all of this got me thinking, Maybe my running days are slowly winding down. I'm in a perpetual state of fatigue and always feeling crunched for time. Spending a few more hours relaxing with my family or just lazing around with the Sunday Times is far more enjoyable, no? Do I have the energy, excitement, and time for anything more than the occasional three miles these days? As I crawled into bed last night, I had almost resigned myself to the label of "former runner," at least until life slows down a bit (and goodness knows it will probably be years before that happens).
But perhaps it was the fully carbo-loaded feeling in my belly that encouraged me, or perhaps it was just the anxiousness of facing another busy week ahead on this Monday morning. Whatever the source of my motivation, today I forced myself to hand Ryder over to his nanny, tie up my laces, and try for a few miles. A few turned into three, then four -- and when I realized I was about to run 5.5, I decided to just complete the whole Central Park loop. I returned home to find the boy still napping, and so quickly ran an ice-cold shower before he had time to wake up. And as I was heading to rinse off, my nanny said, "Don't you feel good now, knowing you're all done for the day?"
Hmph. It was only a few hours into my morning, and I was "done for the day." No matter what the rest of the day may bring at work or at home, I can put a big check-box in my calendar. She was right. I did feel good. Maybe I'll try to keep up this running thing a while longer.
Monday, May 30, 2011
More fun than a run
Summer is back with a vengeance in New York City, and, as if almost overnight, my head has become foggier and my runs have become slower. Cycling would definitely be le sport du jour these days, but, despite careful observation, I never really did learn how to fix a flat. I'm therefore a bit hesitant to head out in the Park on my own, lest I end up on East 90th with nothing but cycling clips on my feet to get me home in time to feed a crying baby (unfortunately, my day is still divided into 2.5-3 hour increments).
And so my little red Giant sits upon her wall mount, longing to be ridden again some time soon. Perhaps when Ryder hits the six month mark we'll hook him up in the Chariot (are babies supposed to wear helmets in those things?) to see whether he lives up to his namesake's affinity for fast moving bikes. Until then, I'm afraid that I'll have to play it safe and stick to 40-60 minute runs, close to home and with proper shoes on my feet.
But this Memorial Day weekend, the weather has been awfully hot and sticky, and our boy wants to seize the day -- every day -- beginning around 6 am. I'm struggling with fatigue, a pounding headache, and, truthfully, a desire to just drink a lot of beer. A run through soupy, 30-degree weather with only a few hours of sleep under my belt is not nearly as appetizing as the mild buzz earned after sitting peacefully in the shade with a brewsky in hand. And so that's basically what I've done this weekend: wheats, ales, lagers, and, today, some very strong Belgian brews. I know that more runs and less beer probably would have served me better over the long haul, but last summer, I sat salivating while Zdenek drank 10% Belgian ales or casually enjoyed a second bottle of Pilsner. Besides, I think they say that hops is good for your breast milk. Ryder certainly doesn't seem to mind.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Warm fuzzies
Apparently, what goes around, comes around, and that extends to more than just my loops in Central Park.
Last week, I ran past two girls on the west side of the Park. Approaching them from behind, I immediately noticed both the Lulu Lemon logos on their gear (I'm always complaining to Zdenek that we should have bought more of that stock!) and their very, very sculpted legs. While the runner on the right was slightly superior in terms of rippling muscles and obvious athleticism, they both looked pretty darn good to me. As I caught up to them, I asked, "Are you girls runners or cyclists?" "Runners," they replied. I told them that they both had pretty fine legs, with calf definition that would make a cyclist jealous. They were pleasantly surprised by the early morning compliment, and giggled a bit as I passed them and headed on my way.
On Monday morning, after a very lazy Sunday spent battling an oncoming cold and forgoing any run at all, I decided to fit in a quick five miles. The extra day of rest certainly didn't hurt me, but I still felt sub-optimal on little sleep and with lumps in the back of my throat. Nevertheless, I tried to maintain both pace and form as I rounded the bottom of the Park and climbed Cat Hill, because every run I have time for these days has to count for something. Just as I had finished cresting the top, a cyclist rode past me and steered herself a bit closer to my running path. And as she cruised by, the very fit, 50-something year old lady on the bike yelled to me, "Beautiful Runner!"
Beautiful Runner?! Was she talking about me? I looked around, and realized that, in fact, I was the only runner within earshot. I was so surprised that I didn't even have a chance to yell back my thanks for this very unexpected compliment.
I've come a long way since my first days of long-distance running, when I used to bounce so high and pound the pavement so hard that my knees ached, or when I slouched forward, shoulders sloping toward the ground, and looked like I might collapse at any moment. Today, I am a bit stronger, smoother, and upright. I try to pay close attention to my form whenever I can, and Zdenek has lately told me, "You look perfect right now!"
But to be told that I am a "beautiful runner" by a complete stranger is the sweetest compliment I've received in a long time. Despite the bags under my eyes, the disheveled morning hair-do, and the sweat dripping down my forehead, someone thought I looked beautiful. While running. It doesn't get any better than that.
Last week, I ran past two girls on the west side of the Park. Approaching them from behind, I immediately noticed both the Lulu Lemon logos on their gear (I'm always complaining to Zdenek that we should have bought more of that stock!) and their very, very sculpted legs. While the runner on the right was slightly superior in terms of rippling muscles and obvious athleticism, they both looked pretty darn good to me. As I caught up to them, I asked, "Are you girls runners or cyclists?" "Runners," they replied. I told them that they both had pretty fine legs, with calf definition that would make a cyclist jealous. They were pleasantly surprised by the early morning compliment, and giggled a bit as I passed them and headed on my way.
On Monday morning, after a very lazy Sunday spent battling an oncoming cold and forgoing any run at all, I decided to fit in a quick five miles. The extra day of rest certainly didn't hurt me, but I still felt sub-optimal on little sleep and with lumps in the back of my throat. Nevertheless, I tried to maintain both pace and form as I rounded the bottom of the Park and climbed Cat Hill, because every run I have time for these days has to count for something. Just as I had finished cresting the top, a cyclist rode past me and steered herself a bit closer to my running path. And as she cruised by, the very fit, 50-something year old lady on the bike yelled to me, "Beautiful Runner!"
Beautiful Runner?! Was she talking about me? I looked around, and realized that, in fact, I was the only runner within earshot. I was so surprised that I didn't even have a chance to yell back my thanks for this very unexpected compliment.
I've come a long way since my first days of long-distance running, when I used to bounce so high and pound the pavement so hard that my knees ached, or when I slouched forward, shoulders sloping toward the ground, and looked like I might collapse at any moment. Today, I am a bit stronger, smoother, and upright. I try to pay close attention to my form whenever I can, and Zdenek has lately told me, "You look perfect right now!"
But to be told that I am a "beautiful runner" by a complete stranger is the sweetest compliment I've received in a long time. Despite the bags under my eyes, the disheveled morning hair-do, and the sweat dripping down my forehead, someone thought I looked beautiful. While running. It doesn't get any better than that.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
A head start
I was delighted to read this in the NY Times this morning, again confirming that running and pregnancy go hand-in-hand, and hopefully Ryder will reap the benefits for many years to come.
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