Like A Laserlight (Training for Half-Marathon, Part 5 of 5)

Week 5 & Race Day (24 April 2017- 30 April 2017)

It is, as always, late, and I am tired, as usual; but I feel today that I need to write, so here it is - Part 5 of 5 of my Training for Half-Marathon series. I don't think I will ever enter a similar giveaway again, and even if I do, I'm not likely to blog about the process because it's actually not a very me thing to write about, and veers too much into haolian territory for my liking. That being said, I think there has been value in documenting my life regularly for the past five weeks, and if you've followed along and encouraged me in real life, thank you. Training for and running this half-marathon meant a lot, especially since we had to deal with HFMD, then food poisoning, in those five weeks. Chunks of toughened dead skin are still coming off the soles of my feet, and I can just about make out the outline of the rashes on the palms of my hands. 

I didn't achieve my (slightly unrealistic) goal of running a sub-2, and I don't think I have recovered from my mummy burnout (see Part 1, perhaps I will remain just ever so slightly burnt out from being a parent for the rest of my life), but crossing the finish line on Sunday in 2:07:09 brought me great joy, and a quiet kind of satisfaction and contentment. For the first time since giving birth to Daniel almost three years ago, I finally understood why there were all these articles and blog and Instagram posts on the Internet about how amazing women's bodies are, to have borne and given birth to another human being and still be able to do X Y Z (etc., to be honest, I still find this sort of thing eye-roll-inducing). Given my past history of obsessing over my body image, I had a particularly hard time accepting, after giving birth, that my body would never be the same again - so while other women seemed to be embracing all the changes motherhood brought on - curves, fuller breasts and the like (I have the ability to feed my baby with my body!, and I'm all, What the f**k, I am failing at this) all I could think of was how much more difficult it was to put on a sports bra (I refused to buy a bigger size), and how I couldn't just slide in and out of my shorts anymore, never mind that I was at least able to get them on and button them somewhat comfortably.  

But it is amazing, when you stop and think about it: when your almost threenager holds a proper conversation with you, when your nine-month old stands, unassisted, for just a few seconds; and then you recall the glimpse you caught of the saggy, wrinkly skin around your waist in the mirror as you were changing, and realise that you don't really care anymore. You gave birth to two persons!!!*

*I haven't gone round the bend yet, so I will not say that "I am proud of my tummy because it is a mark of what my body has been through." SRSLY. And hopefully I haven't unleashed two terrors on the rest of society. 

***

Taper week workouts aren't much to shout about - I made a considered decision to forego RPM and instead went for a swim on Tuesday (25th), and did a short run of about 4km + 8 strides (20 seconds) at the park connector during lunch on Wednesday (26th) because I just couldn't face doing more distance on the treadmill after last week's epic 14km. It was quite cool although the sun was out, thankfully. On Friday I decided to work from home in a bid to get some rest because I felt a little under the weather, and managed to get in a quick run at the Ngee Ann Poly track before picking up the boys, doing some timed kilometre splits to gauge the effort level for the pace I wanted to maintain for most of the run (about 5:40/km. Which I think happened for a good part of the second half, but I wasn't keeping track). All the spare time and energy I suddenly had during lunch went towards worrying about whether it would rain on race day and whether I was eating enough and in the right proportions, amongst other things, but quite by chance, I came across this blog post by Amelia Boone, an obstacle course runner (racer?) in the US. She wrote it after being out of action for a while due to injury, and the essence of it was this:

And these past few months have been a process of realizing, and accepting, that I’m not going to “get back.” And I shouldn’t want to. Because we change – we grow. Our goal should never be to return to the athletes that we once were. It should be to chart a new course. To build a new identity. To define our own terms.

She went on to say that the same thing about accepting that we would never be the same person again applies in other aspects of life; for me, I  would add that it is one of the fundamental tenets of Christianity:

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. - 2 Corinthians 5:17

With these thoughts came gratitude, last Sunday morning, for the ability to enjoy something as simple as a good, long run; free, if only for those precious fleeting moments, from the demands of motherhood and real life. As I told R over Telegram as I ate breakfast alone at Da Paolo Paragon after the race, I've learnt that maybe we shouldn't be looking out for "big" signs from God. Perhaps He shows Himself to us through blessings that may seem trivial and very #firstworldproblems, but are no less an indication that He cares about every intimate detail of our lives, sees our frustrations and unmet desires, shares in our joy, and delights in our contentment. For instance, Daniel responded well to the Physiogel AI Cream*, which was recommended to me by a random pharmacy in Bukit Batok which I had gone to at the advice of Andrew's teacher at childcare, and slept through the night on Friday - the most important sleep is 2 days before a race, because you'll have pre-race jitters the night before - which made up for the terrible night's sleep the night before the race.

*At S$53.90 for 100ml, he'd better.

***

Post-race, Daniel's eczema sores didn't magically disappear, and the house was in greater disarray than usual when we got home from church, thanks to my not being around that morning. This was my eighth half-marathon, and unlike the previous seven, I didn't have the luxury of putting my feet up, taking a good nap, then waking up and doing nothing more strenuous than watch some TV and have sashimi. I was snappy, my blood sugar was low but my appetite hadn't kicked in yet, and I wanted the kids to shut up and leave me alone. I especially wanted Daniel to just be a big boy already and stop all the scratching so his poor skin would have a chance to heal. I thought longingly of the days when I didn't have children and was free to do whatever I pleased, and didn't have them to worry about... And then I remembered what I had thought about accepting that I would never be the same person again, and resolved to try to live that way. There are many things I have said to Daniel in anger that I am not proud of, and when I reflect on my reaction, I figure it's due largely to my inability to accept that he is only human, and therefore flawed and imperfect (like his reluctance to pee in the potty, and his inability to control the urge to scratch the eczema). Being a parent, being able to care for a child in sickness and in health, going through the process of learning to love them unconditionally and putting their needs above yours, is as great a privilege as it is a responsibility, and is something I think I am only just beginning to grasp.

***

Wah, all that just from one half-marathon training cycle, and not even a "major" one like SCMS (SCSM?) or Sundown.  I assure you I was not like this about running before I had children. I'll see you back here when I am next struck by something to write about, but till then, see you on Facebook and Instagram.