Learning to live with disappointment

Wednesday nights are Noah’s soccer game nights.  According to the schedule that we had the game was at 8:05 pm.  This was nice as we could have a leisurely dinner all together, which is a rarity with two kids in soccer 3 days a week plus us running 3 days a week, and whatever other chaos we can add into the mix.  Dinner is over and Nancy and I spend some quality time over coffee on our fancy new deck in the front of the house, just chatting about our day, plans for the weekend, etc.  We have nothing to sit on out front, so we just park our butts on the steps, which is something that usually bugs me; people sitting on the steps.  That's because I often need to get up or down the steps and there isn’t enough room for the person sitting on the steps and me walking on the steps.  This usually results in me squeezing to the side trying not to step on the person seated, the seated person squeezing over to their side and trying not to get stepped on.  Inadvertently, someone often gets stepped on regardless of this charade. 

Time to get ready for the game and off we go to the field.  We get there and the game is oddly already in progress.  "What the heck?" we all say, the game was supposed to start at 8:05 pm.  Noah saunters over to the team and coach and we can see his head bow low with disappointment.  He does manage to get subbed in for the last 10 minutes of the game and seems to have some fun.  He chats briefly with the coach afterwards and saunters back to us at the end of the game, shoulders slumped over.  Nancy says to me “oh great, get ready for him, he’s going to be moody.”  And of course he is, as he says the coach said the game started at 6.  We walk back to the car apologizing to Noah for missing the game.  And it’s little consolation as I say “well at least you got to play for a few minutes of the game.”  Yup, this sounds weak even to me. 

Home we go in a quiet car ride as we’re sure to be treated to Noah being moody for the rest of the night and possibly tomorrow.  His bad moods usually result in bugging the crap out of his sister until she starts yelling at him, talking back to us in really sarcastic tones.  Basically he takes it out on us, which is something I really try to curb as people often react to disappointment in life in this manner, and I think this is crappy.  Not something I want him to learn.

 We chat about the situation a bit at home and I come up with some hopefully better sounding words of wisdom.  “Yes, you have a right to be upset at the situation.  I’m not going to take that away from you.” So basically I’m saying “don’t ignore or close off those emotions, but you need to not direct your anger towards others."  I’m trying not to say “don’t express them in any way, just bottle them up and don’t show any emotion.” I find this is often what we do as adults and it never leads anywhere good for us.

So Noah walks away and sulks into his room, comes out after a while and plugs into his ipod to tune out the world.  This isn’t necessarily a good alternative either.  I sit on the couch and turn on the tv and think “sweet, I get to have a night off everything and park my butt on the couch and be lazy.  Have some ME time.”

Instead I look over at Noah shutting himself off from the world and say “hey, want to throw the football around?” Something he often asks of me, but I seldom seem to have the time anymore. 

My thinking on dealing with disappointment is “if I can just get some activity or something to distract me for a while, hopefully these feelings will subside or not seem quite so overwhelming anymore.” It often works well for me, or maybe I’m just avoiding the problem outright. 

So he concedes and we throw the football around outside.  Soon we’re chatting; I’m being goofy and trying to get him to laugh.  Next he’s smiling, laughing, and being over the top goofy himself and we’re having a grand time, and he’s not moody anymore.  Ok, my job is done.  Can we stop now, because my arm is killing me?  Nope, keep throwing the dang ball.    

After about what seems like an hour, “hey dad, can we throw the baseball next?”

“Sure, why not, I don’t need my arm for work or running or…”

No place I’d rather be

Tuesday and Thursday nights are running nights.  That’s just the way it is.  Period.  Must run on Tuesday.  Now that we are in the midst of marathon training, this is mandatory.  Even if it means running at 10pm to get the run in.  Last night (Tuesday night) we had the Peachbud 5k race that the kids wanted to do.  Nancy, Noah and Gracie were signed up for it and the race was at 7pm.  So, I’m thinking “no problem, I’ll run when we get home afterwards.  It’ll take some juggling, but I’ll make it happen.”  This is a kind of a big thing for me, changing up my plans I already had set in my head.  It’s not something we Van Helverts do well, or at all.  Changing our plans on the fly.  If you throw this monkey wrench at us, we’ll look dumbfounded at you for a while and say “…but, but, no.  I can’t do that.” 

Nancy had come home from a tough day at work.  She was in a foul mood and walked in the door with her and Gracie going at it.  Gracie was looking for some favourite pair of shorts to wear for the race and couldn’t find them.  So, now Gracie is her over the top emotional usual self and crying because mom is being loud and abrupt with her and Nancy is on the verge of tears because of her tough day and Gracie getting on her case before she even gets in the door.    Noah is being his usual “put myself down” pre-teen and saying “I’m gonna do bad in the run.”  And he knows this because he hasn’t run at all since the DSBN race in the early spring.  So, I’m trying to calm them all down and say “hey, this is supposed to be a fun night.  Let’s all just relax and have fun at the race.  Just go and have a good time.”  

 As we’re headed out the door, I say to Nancy “do you know how to get there?”  Ok, now her anxiety has just stepped up a notch as she hasn’t had time to lookup the directions to the race and she’s sure that we’re going to get lost or “worse than anything for her” “be late.”  I chuckle at this as she’s such a “plan to the last detail” type that this is soooo out of character for her.  I say “no worries, I’ll figure it out.  I’ve been there before.”  This does NOT help her, but is the usual me, which I’m sure drives her nuts and is probably why she is such a “planner.”

 On the drive there I miss what we think is the correct off ramp from the highway.  Nancy’s anxiety rises some more.  I say “no problem, I think it’s actually the next ramp.  I’ll drive by the start and drop you guys off and you can get your race bib, then I’ll park and meet up with you somewhere.” 

For the record:  the next exit WAS the correct exit and I got us there no problem, with plenty of time to get race kits and even time to spare.

Trekking the long walk from where I parked my sister and dad meet up with me, much to my delightful surprise.  My mom is there too.  All come to cheer on the kids.  How nice!

So, I take some pre-race pictures of everyone and then the race starts and we now wait until they come around the corner to ring our cow bells and cheer like crazy and take more pictures. 

    

Noah crosses the finish line in about 33 minutes and is disappointed as he had to walk a few times and he’s just not a fast as he used to be.  Nancy and Gracie come around the corner and sprint the last few 100 meters to the finish.  Gracie with a big smile on her face as she realizes she’s going to beat her expected previous 5k time of 41 minutes and does an awesome 37 minutes.  I can see the Van Helvert stubbornness/determination in her as she runs past me.  Beautiful. 

Hugs all around as I meet up with them at the finish line.  Gracie is soo happy and tired.  I’m proud as a peacock as my Sweatpea smokes a great time and she’s so excited. 

And Nancy is now smiling big and all happy.  Hey, when did that happen?  She later tells me about talking to Gracie the whole 5k and passing someone who was really struggling with finishing (what we assume was her first 5k).  Nancy is now realizing just how far she’s come as a runner, recalling her first few 5ks and how much of a struggle it was.  She finds this race so easy and really appreciates how strong a runner she is now.  Then she thanks Gracie for a fast finish, as it felt really good to run hard.  I think she ran out those demons from earlier in the day.  Woo! Score for Nancy all around.

Best part of my night was walking back to the car and Gracie comes up beside me and holds my hand, (which is unusual as she usually stuck to mom) and says “thanks dad, for coming to see me run.  I really appreciate it.”

Priceless. 

I live for those moments. 

Hopefully this memory will be burned into her little brain and is a sweet memory in years to come, as I’m sure to disappoint and frustrate her down the road.  Hey, parents always do that, right?  No matter how hard we try not to.

I look at her and say “Sweatpea, there’s no place I’d rather be.”    

p.s. got home at 9 pm and got my run in.  5k with dog around the block.  Because you see, we're all runners in my family, and you just can’t keep a good runner down.

Man vs. Marathon

Getting mentally prepared for marathon training for the next 18 weeks. Do I really have what it takes to drag my 250 lbs carcass across the 42.2 k distance? I think that’s the hardest part. Trust that the training will get you there. Or almost there. My longest run will be far from the 42.2 k distance. It’ll probably be close to 30k, which I’ve done before. Managing the rest of the distance on race day will be a matter of sheer guts and determination. That’s the part that scares me; the unknown country. I know I’m going to be beat down at times and filled with self doubt, and that it’s going to take everything that I have to complete this journey. “Are you willing to put it all on the line…?” This much I do know: I’ve got a great support group, and I refuse to quit.

Ode to “a bad run”

“Oh bad run, how do I love thee?  Let me count the ways…”

This story has been a long time coming, as it’s been rattling around in me head for a long time.  I think it was the fall of 2009 when we went on a training run one early morning in October with our running group along the Niagara Parkway. 
 
I had a really bad run.  It must have been exceptionally bad as I can still recall the struggle and its aftermath.  It started out slow and my shins were tight and achy.  Then it went downhill after that.  I could barely hobble with brutally painful, screaming shins on both sides; I was in agony.  I was beyond frustrated as we had also planned to run the Niagara Falls 10k race the following weekend. 

I remember finishing the run by walking the last 2 km and being so pissed off.  When I got back to the car, I took off my shoes and threw them in the trash can nearby and slumped into the driver’s seat and had a hissy-fit; pouting like a little school girl and saying to Nancy “that’s it!  I give up on this $@#%ing running crap!  What was I thinking, that I could actually be a runner?!”  Nancy starts her post run stretching and asks me if I’m going to stretch.  “What for?  It’s not like I actually ran or anything!” I reply.  Nancy doesn’t say anything, but just quietly takes my shoes out of the trash and puts them in the trunk of the car and continues her stretching.  I guess she already knew that within a couple of days, that I’d try running again and probably have a good run and be back to my usual happy, go lucky self.  Sure enough, that’s exactly what happened.  My next run was ok, and I’ve kept at it ever since. 

And that’s what I’ve come to learning during my few years of running.  (I’ve been running for about 3-4 years now).

Fact: you’re going to have some bad runs and you’ll want to throw it all away and quit. 

But it’s ok.  That’s all part of the game.  Just keep lacing up and get out there, because those great runs are just around the corner.  And when you nail a great run; there is no greater feeling in the world.  My friend Deb and I call them “Superman runs”; because you feel like Superman.  Strong, unbeatable, like you could run forever.  You’re invincible!  And the confidence that it brings is utterly amazing.  And not just in your running.  It spills out into all facets of your life.  Work, home, personal and everywhere else.  You want to stop strangers in the street and say “Hey, I had a GREAT run today!” 

And that’s the lure, right there.  That’s why we keep shuffling along.  That’s what makes the bad runs bearable, because you now know just how amazing it CAN be.

The other thing I’ve learned is that when you have a bad run, there is absolutely nothing that anyone else can say or do to make you feel better.  Nothing! 

Nancy has had her share of bad runs, and I’ve tried to cheer her up with compliments, saying “it’s ok, it’ll be better the next time out”, making her laugh will my silly antics, etc.  Nothing helps.  Your confidence is in the toilet.  The only way out is your next good run. 

So I think I’ve matured a fair bit as a runner over the years.  I’ve learned to deal with the bad runs, and not let them get me down.  They’re all part of the game.  It just means that you’ll appreciate your next good run all the more.  So thank you “bad runs”, because you make the good runs all the more sweeter.

 

Faster than zombies

Ever dream about running? Apparently it’s quite a common dream. I never have, until last night. Running dreams are usually about running really fast, or winning a race, or floating on air while running, or running in picturesque landscapes (like in Forrest Gump). My running dream was about zombies. It’s the typical zombie scenario, some post-apocalyptic era with cars scattered throughout the streets, deserted buildings, etc and the zombies keep trying to get you and you can never beat them. Oh, we tried the usual tactics like barricading yourself in a room. That never works, as zombies are strong and often just punch through walls or doors and always get you. We tried battling them head on with some weapons or traps. That never works either as there’s always an endless supply of zombies, and as you know, they’re relentless. They just get back up and keep coming at you. Then we formulated a brilliant plan. We’ll exploit the one weakness nobody has ever thought of.

Zombies can’t run.

It’s true, in almost every zombie movie they just hobble along all shuffling with disjointed arms and legs, but they can’t run. And that’s how we defeat the zombies: with our running.
So Nancy and I drive home, change into our running gear, grab water belts, fill up water bottles, pack some gels, take the time to stretch (including planks). Then we head out the door and run down the street with the zombies close on our heels.

Thinking (and laughing) about this dream on the car ride into work this morning, it dawns on me. I think I understand why I had this dream. My work day yesterday was a rough and stressful one. I was desperately trying to get something done that required a lot of long and focused attention and everyone at work keep asking me questions and disrupting me, needing a piece of me. All day long, every few minutes someone was calling for me or coming to my desk. I couldn’t get anything done. They were relentless: like zombies! Then after work we had soccer for both kids, which required our time. To end the day, Nancy and I finally were able to go for our run at 8:30pm and able to leave all the stress of the day behind us. It all makes sense now.

And at the end of the dream as we’re running down the street just safely out of the zombies grasp, Nancy turns to me and says “hey, at least we’re faster than zombies!”