Tag Archives: Running

5K and 20 Minutes of Crying

Detroit Turkey Trot | R.Simple Life

Harry ran his first race on Thanksgiving. In hindsight, the Detroit Turkey Trot might not have been the most ideal first race for a little southern boy who wasn’t even in his own stroller. A record-breaking 22,000 people ran that race with us, and let me tell you. I think they were all running a few seconds slower than us. Because I can’t tell you how many ankles that stroller ate when some slowpoke cut us off.

Poor Harry had been in the stroller just sitting around waiting for the race to start longer than he had anticipated that morning. He didn’t plan accordingly when choosing his breakfast that morning (he refused everything). He was tired, cold, and hungry. And he let us all know he was not into the race.

We finished in just under 34 minutes and the snow was falling the whole time. Peeking through the throngs of people, Detroit was really pretty in that light. Big white snowflakes falling from the sky… The tall gray buildings looming overhead… rosy baby cheeks and nose.

Fingers crossed it didn’t scare him away from races forever. I promise to pick a smaller race next time, bud.

xoxo, Mallory

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For Running

R.Simple Life | Thankful for Running

My first summer in the south, I was training for my first marathon and I kept having debilitating cramps while I was out training. It took a while to realize they were heat cramps and I was on my way to heat exhaustion.

Since that first summer, running and I have had a love/hate relationship. I sure love running. It’s my favorite release, my “me” time, the time I get to spend outside. But man, is it hard to run in the heat. I get tired faster, I get grumpy quickly, I sweat a whole lot, and I just want to stop. But the second it cools down, running is back to the top of my list. One of the best moments of my day is lacing up those shoes and feeling the cool air whip against me as I set off.

I have a new running partner this year, and he’s pretty cute. He kicks when we run and he takes the world in one mile at a time. It’s pretty awesome to see the pure glee on his face and realize my “speed” is creating that laugh. I’ve always been a bit more of a solitary runner, but I can’t help but love my runs with the littlest boy in my life.

Thank you Running. I’m so grateful for you today.

xoxo, Mallory

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For Boston

Yesterday, as I walked up the stairs in my house to greet my happy, smiley baby (who had just woken up from a nap), I got a text message simply stating “Two explosions at the Boston Marathon.” Instantly, my heart sank. What had happened? Was it an accident? What do you mean “explosions”? As I fed my sweet little boy, I listened to the radio coverage of the monstrosity that had happened in Boston. And wept.

My heart is heavy. I like to keep this blog a happy, safe spot, but I just can’t help but mention this tragedy today. This hit close to home. As a runner, and a marathoner at that, I have gone to races, bright and early in the morning, running shoes tied tightly around my tracker. Anticipation bubbling in my stomach. Excitement pulsing through my veins. And I’ve said goodbyes to loved ones at the starting line, cheerfully stating “I’ll see you at the finish line!”

I can’t even imagine how it would feel to get to the finish line and see this happen. To know my loved ones might have been standing right there. Cheering me on. Yesterday was filled with lots of tears. Lots of hugging my sweet little boy who hasn’t seen Mumma race yet, but will be there cheering me on one day. Kissing my handsome husband who has the ┬ádangerous job. The job that makes me nervous anytime he walks out that door. And a fast, hard run. Running for Boston. Running for the families of the victims. Running for the victims. Running for the entire running community, because I know this has hit a lot of us hard.

It’s always been a personal goal of mine to one day qualify and run Boston. And it still is. Running is my passion, my escape. And all I can say is, how dare someone take that away from so many people?

But if I know anything about my community, it is that we are tough. We are resilient. We won’t let the fear paralyze us, as it obviously was supposed to do.

Running will be with a heavy heart today. But it’s for Boston. Boston, you are in my heart.

xoxo, Mallory

 

PS | Just came across this. Some really heartwarming pictures + tweets about people taking care of each other after this tragedy. As Ellen says: Be kind to one another.

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Running

I feel like I need to add a disclaimer before I get into this post. This blog is about two things. The first – sharing our life with the people who we love and miss dearly and no longer live a quick drive from. The second – documenting our life for our own sake. The highs, the lows, everything (I feel comfortable sharing with The Internet). And this is a venting post. No matter how I sound in this post, I am SO happy to be 18 weeks pregnant with a (so far) healthy baby. I cannot wait to meet this person, to see who he or she will be, but I am relishing in the fact that I get to spend 22 or so more weeks building a very special bond to this little guy or girl. I wouldn’t trade it for the world, and I would give up anything to make sure he or she is safe and healthy.

I am a runner. I have been since my fun run in 4th grade when I lapped everyone. Since my competitive spirit reared it’s ugly head. Since my dad took me to the store to buy a pair of “Running Shoes” – not tennis shoes, not sneakers, but “Running Shoes.” Specifically made to make me run faster, harder, longer. It’s been a love affair with running since.

We’ve had our ups and downs, Running and I. We’ve got months without speaking. But we always found our way back together. We’ve run hundreds and thousands of miles. We’ve sweat it out, bundled up and faced the cold, and we’ve even had a few tearful, heat cramped jaunts. But no matter what, we are always here for each other.

Running is my time. It is my time to think about anything. The future, my fears, my worries, my problems. The future, my joys, my elations, my hopes. Though I almost always have a companion in dog form on my runs (at least for the last 4 years), often, my runs are solitary. I welcome a run with my loving husband, whenever he wants to join in on the fun, but really, running is the time I use to get into my mind.

I learned the lesson of support in running at my first Marathon. I ran the first 13 miles with a crowd cheering me on the whole way. Shouts of “Go Green!” kept my spirits lifted and my goal attainable (Green was the color bib you were assigned if you were a first time marathoner). The second 13.2 miles were a doozy. The crowd waned. I was exhausted. Hungry. Tired. Thirsty. I don’t know if just Running and I would have made it on our own. Which is why I was so grateful for the man who bought me my first pair of running shoes, who introduced this love of Running to me. He ran at my slow pace, by my side, until the end of the race, when he dropped back and let me cross the finish line on my own.

Obviously, Running and I have a history. But there is a reason I have’t talked about it on the blog yet. We’ve been having a hard time. For the first trimester of this pregnancy, I was too sick and too tired to get out into the heat and go for a run. I wasn’t even able to go for many walks. I spent my time on the couch, reminding myself that it was all SO worth it. And it was.

My second trimester started up with a bit of relief. I had my old energy back. I wasn’t sick anymore. I could eat enough fuel to get off the couch. I tried to get back to running. But we lived in Arkansas where it was 95 degrees at 8am. 105 at 9. Way too hot for a pregnant lady to be sweating. So my runs turned into run-walks, and then slowly into walks as I started to get visits from my old friend, The Heat Cramp.

When we moved to Mississippi, the weather, while more humid, was a bit cooler. So I had high hopes. I hoped that I would be able to get out and run my pregnant little butt off again. Stretch my legs. Reconcile with running. Unfortunately, it hasn’t been that easy. I’m able to run, yes. But because of the ligaments in my pelvic bone and hips stretching to make room for Baby, I can’t run hard, fast, or strong. It’s a slow jog. It’s a short jog. And it’s not the same.

It’s been a rough time going. Walking is great, don’t get me wrong. I love biking, too. But I miss running. I miss sweat dripping down my temple. I miss that burn in my legs after kicking it up a notch. I miss the breathlessness that comes with a sprint. I miss lacing up my shoes and knowing I’m getting a great workout. I miss thinking, because now it’s just worries. Worry about Baby. Worry about my body and pushing it too hard. It’s no longer a time to think, it’s a time to worry.

Running and I are going through a hard time. But we’ve done it before, and we’ve come out stronger every time. I’m not giving up. I’m not quitting. I’m not even waiting until Baby is here to accompany my in the jogger. I am doing my best. Running at my ability right now. Adding more biking, swimming, rowing, walking. But I will be back. And I will get stronger than ever.

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