Friday, August 23, 2013

My Comeback - Article 1

So for those who don't know, the city of Memphis has an amazing running club named "Memphis Runenrs Track Club," or "MRTC" for short. With annual membership, over 3500 runners from around the city receive lower races fees, discounts at local running stores, as well fellowship with other like-minded people. They also receive a monthly newsletter called "The Roadrunner."

I've been lucky enough to have a couple articles published in it before, but this past March (or was it April??) I was absolutely stoked when the editor sought me out asking me to submit something again. I explained to him that I hadn't been running as much as usual due to my pregnancy but I might be able to send him something later in the year, after the training for my first marathon began. His response made my day when he asked me to submit not only one article, but a series of them leading up to my first 26.2 mile run, post baby. Then, of course, with a follow up piece after the race.

I was super flattered (and slightly sure that his request of me proved he was just desperate for pieces to fill his monthly journal) and agreed.

So here it is. The first of at least two or three submissions. Hope y'all enjoy it as much as I liked writing it. :-)




“Listen to your body,” she said. “You’ll know when you can go at it again.”

“Famous last words,” I thought to myself as fire shot up my legs while attempting to run up a neighborhood hill yesterday afternoon. I was listening to my body and it was definitely telling me to NOT continue this run... and possibly never even consider running again.

Let me back up and start from the beginning. Seven weeks ago, I decided it was a marvelous plan to register for my very first full marathon. The St. Jude Memphis Marathon has a stellar reputation and it benefits an amazing hospital. It is a race that is near and dear to not only our city, but to thousands of children and families across the country. So, it was not hard for me to decide that the St. Jude Marathon, being held this coming December 7, would be my first official full marathon. 

I have been a runner for a number of years and love everything about it. I love the mental and physical challenge it offers. I love the community it brings. I love the challenge of racing. I have done countless 5K’s, 10K’s, trail races, half marathons... you name it. However, the elusive 26.2 has always kept me at bay - until now.

On a whim, I not only registered myself, but also somehow was able to convince a good friend of mine to join me as well. (She will thank me later, I’m hoping ... though probably not until December 9, when the soreness has had time to wear off.) This way we could not only hold each other accountable, but even train together as well. 

Fast forward one week, which for those counting, puts us at 6 weeks ago. This just so happens to be the week that I gave birth to my second child and entered into the exhausting world of newborn-hood. After giving my body a few weeks to begin recovering from labor, I began to get the itch. You know the one. Where all you want to do is lace up your shoes and hit the road and lose yourself and reality for a little while and just run.

When that itch started to really get itchy, I thought back to what my doctor has told me before leaving the hospital. Knowing I was a runner, she had said, “Listen to your body. You’ll know when you can go at it again.” Well, I was listening. My body was finally telling me to get out there. 

Or so I thought ... because on that first hill, on that first real “run” back (some might even call it a walk with a slight speed increase), that “marvelous” plan of registering for St. Jude was not seeming so marvelous anymore. My legs and lungs were burning and I struggled through every step. In as little as nine months, hat used to be an easy, short route through my neighborhood had somehow become equivalent to the infamous Bataan Death March. I sure felt like I was marching towards my own death on the last stretch, at least. About half way up every hill, my legs tried to slow to a walk, and a little voice in the back of my head was telling me that would be okay to do so. Or that it would be okay to just not finish the run. There was another voice though. This other one reminded me of all the times I have slowed and/or never even finished. The times that I regretted not too long later. Luckily, the latter voice won out and I finished. Slowly, but I finished, none-the-less. 

Arriving home, I collapsed on my floor in a sweaty, discouraged mess. When had running become so hard? Okay, so running is always hard. The words of Greg Lemond ring true just as much for running as they do for cycling, “It never gets easier, you only get faster.” 

However, I had continued running for as long as I could throughout my pregnancy and had expected to “bounce back” rather quickly. While I never thought I would immediately be right back to the pace and distances I left off at, I did not expect this short two-three mile loop I had just gone to nearly kill me. I wondered how I was going to be able to make it a full 26.2 miles in just a few short months. I was glad at this point I had persuaded my friend to register with me, because had she not, there is a good chance my entry fee would be turning into a generous donation to St. Jude.

Thinking about the long training hours I had ahead, another doctor’s visit popped into my mind. When my husband and I took our new little girl to the pediatrician for the first time, that doctor looked me straight in the eye and said, “Remember, take it one day at a time.” Concerning parenting, this is probably the best advice I have ever received. Although her words were meant towards the hardships and struggles of dealing with a newborn, these words ring just as loudly and as true in my trek towards accomplishing my first marathon.

“One day at a time.”

“Listen to your body.”

Having to more or less begin training from scratch, I have no choice but to take it one day at a time. As I move farther along in my training, I’ll be forced to listen to my body. And quite frankly, my body will have to listen to me when I tell it to keep pushing. There are children at St. Jude depending on me to do this.

So, here goes. I am following the doctors’ orders and am going to listen to my body. One day at a time. I will listen all the way until December 7. Where I will run my very first 26.2 consecutive miles. One mile at a time. One hill at a time. One step at a time.



Tuesday, August 20, 2013

The Lord Doth Provide... (An Ode to Pottery Barn & Life-Saving Prayer)

This weekend, Bryant took McKenna camping for the first time. Well, it was the "first time" if you don't count the tents we've created out of every spare pillow and blanket in our home draped across furniture throughout our house. The "tents" where MK takes a flashlight, every pony figurine she owns from the My Little Pony collection and her Pottery Barn sleeping bag.

(Yes. A Pottery Barn sleeping bag. It's one thing her entire bedroom is outfitted with the brand, but a sleeping bag puts it over the edge. I feel PB has taken some of the authenticity out of "camping" with the insanely expensive, carefully stitched, yellow and pink butterfly sleeping bags that I, as a 21st century consumer, blindly purchase for my unappreciative 4 year old. Whatever happened to making a trip to the local outdoor store to purchase ugly camouflaged or plain black/green sleeping bags and tents? I disgust myself.)

(But the sleeping bag is really cute.)

Free Shipping??? Yes, please!
Well, maybe this trip wasn't too far off from the above - except the tent was a "real" one (something we own not actually purchased from PB or made from spare blankets and pillows). Though this trip was complete with her PB pillow and sleeping bag. Oh, and the ponies. Can't forget the ponies...

Anyway, Bryant had a race he had to be at in Shelby Forest early Saturday morning for work. So he suggested to take MK out there camping with him.

I immediately agreed pondered for a little bit, not at all concerned wondering if taking a little girl up to Shelby Forest at such a young age, was such a great idea. After no much hesitation, I agreed and figured it would give me a night off of double kid duty be a good experience for her.

Bryant quickly packed up the car with his and MK's Pottery Barn stuff and met up with a couple good friends, Dale and Ryan, for night of camping under the stars.

With the boys and MK gone, myself and Dale and Ryan's wives had a wild night of Mac 'n Cheese and Dateline over at my house after Meda G was put to bed.
(Who knew that adding a bit of onion to homemade Mac 'n Cheese would cause angles to descend from the heavens??)
(Don't tell my vegan husband I devoured two bowls of that delicious animal product goodness. I appreciate your discretion.)
(But in my defense, I'm what one might call a "Chee-gan." Mmmm.... cheeeeese....)

Oh, and I don't want to forget the 1/2 glass of red wine I consumed.

I'm telling you - wild night.

I don't know if any of you watch Dateline, but my friend Molly is borderline obsessed with it. No big deal that it comes on at NIGHT and covers TRUE stories of CRAZED KILLERS, RAPISTS and HOMICIDAL MANIACS. (My blog totally just got flagged using those key word search terms. Awesome. I might as well have just put a giant red target on my forehead screaming COME KILL ME NOW LUNATICS!) So yeah, we watched that.

While the boys were gone.
In the dark.
With no husband protection anywhere close.

And then my friends went home and left me alone.

I know what you're thinking...

Great friends, right??  ;-)

(This is the point where I would normally google a picture of a seriel killer, but I'm done risking blowing my google search ranking sky high with talks of homicides. So maybe just imagine a photo that would nicely compliment the post at this point.)

Well, to top is off, this all came a couple nights after watching "The Call" on Redbox where a mentally disturbed man kidnapped and tortured young women and then buried them in a random field. (Interesting movie on the 9-1-1- dispatch center, by the way... I recommend it if you aren't female and going to be alone at any point in time in the near future. Or if you're a big Halle Berry fan.)

As I prepared to go to bed, after double checking the house alarm was set, of course, I made sure to add looking out every window and strategically have the dogs lay by every door to my bedtime routine. Then I stayed up as late as possible, so I could carefully listen for an ax murder to come in to steal Meda G and I read some.

I picked up my bible to try and calm my nerves. But you want to know what verse I turned to? Psalm 143:8 (Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I entrust my life.). No big deal, right? Should have made me feel better, right?

Well, yes. That is until you read on...


Rescue me from my enemies, Lord for I hide myself in you. (Psalm 143:9)

Errrr... Enemies?  Why is the Bible talking to me about "enemies" on this particular night?? Hmmmm.... a seriel killer would definitely be considered an enemy. I quickly flipped the page.

To Matthew 10:39. "Whoever finds their life will lose it..."

Eeeek.... I flipped again...

To 1 Peter 3:14. "But even if you should suffer..."

I immediately shut the bible. Visions of the night I was almost raped and killed by a dead phone flashed before my eyes. The Good Lord had to be telling me I was about to suffer at the hands of my enemy (aka - ax murderer) and lose my life. He was WARNING ME.

So I tried to change His mind on that plan. I immediately prayed over Romans 8:28 and reminded Him that He promised to do me good. And then I so-very-sweetly asked him to save my life later that night when I would surely need it.

And guess what?

Ask and you shall receive!

I was not murdered. I wasn't even remotely tortured by a crazed lunatic. I didn't even see one! Both Meda and I slept peacefully. (Well, until 3:45AM when Meda decided it was time to eat. At which I quickly prayed the same prayer again since it was dark and I couldn't see out the windows into the dark very well to scope out anybody looking to break in. The good Lord is GOOD, my friends. He once again saved my life that night!)

The next morning, after Bryant and MK came home, I started to share with Bryant about how my life had been in jeapordy while he was galavanting in the woods. Then I decided against it. I didn't want him to think he couldn't ever leave me at the house alone again. (But I really did.) I didn't want him to think of me as mentally weak. (Which I am.) And I didn't want him to make fun of me. (Which he totally would have.)

So, my dear blog friends, that whole night is going to be our little secret. We won't tell Bryant how I devoured bowls of animal product (did I mention I used a large bowl?), how a homicidal maniac was most assuredly perched outside my bedroom window waiting to pounce, or how the Lord decided that since I was able to memorize one tiny verse (Romans 8:28) out of all 66 of his bible books, I should be given another shot at life.

We'll let the memory of that night be of Pottery Barn and My Little Pony camping and spending time MK and friends, instead of my near-death. :-)

Friday, August 16, 2013

ARE YOU HERE YET FALL??? CAN YOU HEAR ME CALLING???

Well, hello there, bloggy world!

Long time, no read... or write... or whatever...
(You know what I mean.)

Anyway, I've been (once again) MIA from the interwebs for a few weeks.

Okay, not really. I've definitely been on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, my email, work website, and Amazon.com. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I've been MIA from this here blog.

Anyway, this summer's been a doozy. Pretty busy and not at all what I picture summertime to look like.

I don't know about you, but when I think of summer, I picture lounging by the pool or at the beach with some sort of fruity drink in hand. Sleeping in and seeing movies at the drive-in. Reading at least 2-3 books per month. Having nothing on the agenda except whatever I want to do. (#selfish #buthoneybadgerdontcare)

Well, that's not reality, people.

I haven't been to the pool one time.

Or the beach.

I can't remember the last time I slept in or was able to watch a movie in its entirety without being interrupted. And I've struggled to finish even one novella over the course of three months.

Its been busy. Really busy. We've had family in town multiple times (that's what happens when you add additional family members to the clan, by way of labor and birth. Meda G has had plenty of visitors and truth be told, it's been great!). I've also been working non-stop (okay, "non-stop" really means "part-time," but whatever...) and getting lots of activities and stuff to get done over the past 3 months. Or trying to at least...

So let's just say, I'm absolutely READY. FOR. FALL. Besides pumpkin lattes (All hail, Starbucks!), colorful trees and cooler weather, with fall comes a regularity that I crave. While lounging by the pool, seeing movies and reading sounds fabulous, that type of stuff doesn't happen during my summers anymore. And I also don't do well without having a set schedule.

My summer of entertaining a four year old while keeping a newborn alive, working somewhere in between every 3 hour feeding, getting back in shape, dealing with a small (and extremely annoying) bout of post-partum depression and oh yeah, trying to write a book.... well, let's just say it's been a tad on the chaotic side.


It was okay at the beginning of summer. We had ballet camp, swim lessons and gymnastics scheduled weekly. We had set hours of the day we did certain things, and it was great. Though I may have been a little overzealous in the first few weeks of June, because I sort of got burnt out. We ran out of things to do (not to mention the energy to do them) and it's been killing not only McKenna, but also me. Don't get me wrong, there was lots of great and fun moments, but IT. IS. TIME.




It's time for school to start.

Basically what I am saying is that once school starts, chances are you will see me frolicking in the parking lot singing praises to Jesus, while doing cartwheels and back handsprings.


Not only will the fall bring regularity to our schedules, but it will give Mama a few hours of peace and quiet from The World's Most Talkative Four Year Old EVER.

(As I sit here typing this, she is sitting - basically on my lap - with a cartoon on and is giving her own commentation on EVERY THING SAID AND DONE on the show. Oh, and when I don't immediately acknowledge her, the volume and intensity of her voice immensely raises. Which is why I MAY START TYPING IN CAPS TO DROWN OUT THE YELLING IN MY EAR!!!!  CAN YOU HEAR ME, BLOG READERS????)

Anyway.... back to the topic at hand...

Sure, even with school starting I'll still have an infant to care for, but she's not quite to the Won't Shut Up Stage that her older sister is currently in and can easily be quieted down with either a bottle of Gerber's deliciousness or strategic placement beneath a large and whirling ceiling fan.

(By the way.... The World's Most Talkative Four Year Old EVER is still talking.... she's asking me to take her to Target to buy stuff to make cookies. Because it doesn't take too long to make cookies. There's only two things to do. Buy the cookies and put the on the cookie pan. Then put it in the oven. Or the microwave. It's fun to have cookies. Only two things to do. I like sugar cookies. Can we put sugar in the cookies? I like the sugar. But I like cupcakes the best. Stop laughing at me, mom. STOP LAUGHING!!! MOM, STOP LAUGHING!! Oh, mom. You're so funny. Can we go to Target now?)

(By the way, that one-way conversation dictated above is verbatim.)

Anyway, I think you get the point. I'll go ahead and cut this post off now. The moral of the story is that August 27, 2013 will be a glorious day. The day school starts back and fall is officially back in session in the Funston household. 

Praise Jesus.