Exercise Therapy

1 Tear and Share Bag of M&M's Later
(Which were not shared...)

I mentioned in a previous post that exercise is a form of therapy for me. As the mother of a child with moderate/severe ADHD and mild Aspberger's syndrome, every day is full of new challenges. Some days are handled well- I am full of patience and feel capable of handling anything my son can throw at me- sometimes literally. Other days I find myself locked in the pantry, bawling my eyes out, shoving anything remotely chocolate into my mouth with reckless abandon. Add to that emotional roller coaster the guilt you feel when you have a second son who is just as in need of your love, time, attention, and emotional stability and a husband who you always feel you're failing because you're so drained you just have absolutely nothing left to give. Falling asleep on the couch by 9pm does nothing for your love life, let me tell you.

I generally don't go out for a run or bike or lift weights on the weekends. I like to spend time with my family since the Husband is working or traveling and the boys are in school during the week. The thing is, exercise is my pressure relief valve. I can literally feel the stress melting away the further I go, the harder I work...but without it, I feel that the high pressure sensor arrow is all the way in the red, just moments away from a 3-mile-island meltdown. I can't control the situation we find ourselves in, but I can at least control my workouts.

This weekend, my oldest son went to his first sleepover. The house was peaceful and quiet. Even so, I was worried sick the entire night. Before leaving to pick him up, I called and the friends mom filled me in on the things that happened throughout the night. I had such high hopes for him. I reminded him to behave and follow their rules, I talked to the mother of the child whose home he was staying at, let her know about my sons issues, was reassured that it would be fine...all was not fine. She wasn't at fault, and I know we're not either, but it doesn't make the guilt go away. The sick worry that my son will hurt himself or someone else. It's always there. His impulsivity is off the charts and he reacts without thinking. As he gets older, bigger, stronger, I'm struggling to know how to handle his behavior as nothing seems to be working.

I need some time to myself. Time to think, reflect, reassess. I may have to break my "no workouts on weekends" rule.

Cycling 101

3 miles with Dog
Weight Training- Back/Bi's/Legs

Yesterday I found myself doing something I had not done in 10 years- I went for a bike ride. Way back before we had children, my husband and I lived in a 700 sq ft apartment in Hampton Roads. It had the most scenic view- a 7-11 and a bar (could get a slushy or a shot, depending on your preference), and we met the most colorful people (the young man rolling joints in the stairwell was always super polite...or just stoned-in any case, he was easy to get along with as long as you didn't call the cops). Running around our neighborhood just wasn't an option, unless you wanted to end up on the nightly news, so we had to jump in the car and go to better neighborhoods or parks. It made us get out and explore new places and we found many trails to run- and to bike.

The Husband decided it was time to get ourselves a couple of bikes. Mountain bikes that we would pay more for than all of our furniture combined, seeing as at that time, all we had were hand-me-downs- mismatched pieces of furniture from living and bedroom sets that no one wanted anymore. Between rides, those bikes took up half of our tiny living room. As jobs changed and we moved, then the babies came, the bikes collected dust throughout the years. Since we've moved to Missouri in 2007, the same bike I've had since 1999 has been hanging on the wall in our garage. A few weeks ago, my husband dusted his off, had it serviced at a nearby bike shop and started riding again. Yesterday, as he was heading out the door for a ride, I decided to join him.

I had to borrow my son's helmet, seeing as mine had been left/lost only God knows where. The Husband had to disconnect the front brakes since the front wheel rim had been bent ever so slightly and the brakes rubbed with a very annoying thwomp thwomp thwomp. I was reminded to only use my back brakes. I didn't tell him that trying to brake and seeing that I wasn't slowing down was probably going to be reminder enough, but seeing as nobody likes a smartass, I kept it to myself. We started out and it was surprisingly fun. The wind felt great, my husband was yelling back at me over his shoulder instructions on how to switch gears for going up hills and which way we were turning next. Even though I felt like I was slowing him down, everytime I looked back, he had a grin on his face. It could have been my awesome skull and crossbones helmet, but I think it was for the same reason I had a goofy grin spread across my own- we were having alot of fun together. Riding a bike takes me back to when I had my purple Huffy with the unicorn banana seat and purple streamers on the handlebars. I would ride all over the small town I grew up in whizzing by houses and coasting down hills with my bare feet up on the handlebars.

I was almost sorry to see the ride end, until I got off my bike. I hurt in places I didn't know could hurt. But when the Husband asked if I wanted him to hang my bike back on the garage wall, I told him no, it would make it hard for me to get it down to ride again. And surprisingly to me, sore muscles and all- I can't wait to go again.

Beginnings

3 miles (walking) with Husband and Dog

I've always been thin and I could always eat whatever I wanted (thanks youth and fast metabolism!). I've always been active in sports- softball, volleyball, track, cross country- throughout most of my pre-20 life. My first foray into long distance running was to impress a boy. He ran and so I joined the Cross Country team hoping our mutual adoration of the sport would bring us together. Although it's hard to impress anyone after a 5k (3.1 miles) race through the woods when the only thing you yearn for more than said boy is a long, hot shower. In addition to hooking myself a future husband (going on 13 wonderful years), I also discovered a love for running. Cross Country was so different than track. No running around in circles, no leaping over hurdles, or passing batons. No starting blocks. Cross Country was open fields and thin wooded trails, about setting a pace, getting in a groove, and just rolling with it.

I've stayed a runner. It's been my anti-depressant, my cure for writers block, my insomnia solution, a time to think and reflect, my alone time. Before we had kids, the husband and I would run together. Between not completely unsexy panting, we would talk about our days and how we would spend our nights. After the kids came along, we supported each other and he urged me to get out from under toddlers and diapers and laundry and just go run. The only other thing I've found more therapeutic is writing.

This year I turn 34. I've been a runner for more than 15 years. The longest distance I've ever ran is 6 miles, which was 3 years ago. My distance varies each day according to how I feel, but the farthest I usually go is 3 miles. I would like to complete a marathon before I'm 40. I believe it's a goal that many people say they have, but few ever actually get up, go out, and do. I want to do something for me. Something that does not revolve around my children or my husband. I love them dearly and it's not that I want to run away, I just want to run.