On August 31, my beautiful baby twin boys, Tristan and Asher, were born.

They were born really early, at 28 weeks.

They are so little and they are strong, but they still have a long road ahead of them in the NICU.

Having to leave them everyday at the NICU is the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life.

I spend most days precariously balanced. I cry a lot. It is so hard. I never knew how much I would love them and how fast. They are wonderful.

Because my main focus right now is them, I'm taking an extended leave from How Many Miles. I think of you all often, but for right now, the boys are my priority. I appreciate you understanding. I'll be back eventually. I do post a Twitter update about once a day most days, so if you want to follow me there, please do so. Although I'll warn you, most of my updates are about the twins.

We appreciate any thoughts, prayers, or good vibes you can send our way.

They are little fighters, like their Momma. Kicking ass and taking names in the NICU.



Asher


Tristan

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I'm back.

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sick

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Excuses, excuses.

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The Rundown.

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March Madness.

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determined

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Inspiration, anyone?

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good

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I find that if in the morning I’m trying to convince myself that I should put off my workout until the afternoon for any number of impossible reasons, I should probably put my shoes on right this minute and do my workout.

Because let’s face it, I rarely follow through. The afternoon turns into evening and evening turns into dinner and dinner turns into bedtime.

And isn’t it better to set myself up for success rather than failure?

Alright, I’ll go put my shoes on.

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Tonight I felt inspired. I felt that go get ‘em kind of surge in my gut. 

So I decided to walk to my Weight Watchers meeting.

I already did my morning walk, 55 minutes, or 4.58 miles to be precise, but I still had a lot of energy. (The giganto cup of coffee I had earlier really helped with that.)

Anyways, Mr. S was meeting me directly at the meeting, so I decided to save on gas and walk.

And after all, I’m walking now. Not just walking mind you, but training for a marathon, amongst other things.

So I laced up my sneakers, put on some light colored warm clothing, strapped on my Nike+ and my headlamp and off I went.

I forgot how much I love to walk at night. It is really empowering. Mr. S and I used to night hike all the time. There is calm at night that can’t be replicated during the day. There are noises that keep your senses alert. You can’t get lazy and apathetic on a night hike, you have to pay keen attention to everything. It is wonderful.

I was about halfway to my meeting when someone pulled off the road and rolled down their window.

“Are you OK?” The lady in the car yelled at me.

“Yep.” I said with a smile.

“Are you sure, cause I could give you a ride if you needed.”

“Nope, I’m just out for a walk.”

“Are you sure you are OK?”

“Absolutely. I’m just walking.”

“Walking? At night?”

“Yep. Walking. Thanks, though.”

While I appreciate her concern, it really shocked me that she was in such disbelief that someone, namely a woman, could be out walking.

About five minutes later, a second car called off the road and we basically repeated the same conversation.

No I know that safety is a huge priority for any person out alone night. But I took necessary precautions and frankly, I don’t plan on making walking at night on roads a regular occurrence.

Besides their safety concerns, what really bothered me is that people didn’t seem to understand just going out for a walk. For the sake of walking.

About five minutes after the second car pulled off the road, I heard a crinkling of leaves in a bush about ten feet in front of the path I was on. I was on a side street now, not a major road, so the light was dim and traffic was less intense. I stopped, being well trained to know that it was either something I didn’t want to meet or something that didn’t want to meet me.

I craned my headlamp down a notch and waited.

A nose popped out of the bush. I heard a whimper coming from the same bush. Not a cry but more like a whining. A coyote stepped onto the street. She turned to look at the bush and waited. Out popped a smaller coyote. The bigger one turned around and proceeded to trot across the street, little one in tow.

The bigger coyote did look in my direction, but she must have decided I wasn’t a threat because she didn’t stop or even start running. She just trotted to the other side of the road and disappeared into the darkness.

I’m really glad that I decided to walk to program tonight. I’m really glad I walked for the sake of walking.

You should know that I’m quite safe. I carry a cell phone, I walk with a big stick, I don’t wear both headphones, I walk against traffic and I always wear light colors and my headlamp if I’m out at night, I wear an ID bracelet and I always make sure more that one person knows my planned path and intended timeframes. Don’t worry too much, Mom. Oh and I almost forgot, Weight Watchers and all its known names and trademarks belong to them and only them. I do not work for them, nor can I answer questions about their trademarks. No coyotes were harmed in the making of this post.

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What is it about running in the rain that makes me feel all wild-woman-hear-me-roar strong? Is it the primal connection to nature? Toughing out the elements? Laughing in the face of danger? 

The bigger the puddles, the stronger I feel.
The less people I see on the trail, the more kick-ass I feel.
Just how muddy and wet I come home, indicates just how much I rock.

It has been raining all day. But right now, it is pouring.

I'm going for a run.

Hell, yeah.

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Something put me in a real crabby mood today.

I think it has something to do with this nasty cold I’m fighting, which caused me to miss my last four workouts.

And we all know what happens when I miss four workouts, in a row.

Back to the crabby mood—I’m storming around the house, cursing the snot and the hacking cough, trying to cause a fight with Mr. Shortpants, sitting down, standing up, walking around and cursing. It is not a pretty sight.

I decide to go grocery shopping. I’m not sure what possessed me to go grocery shopping, and I am definitely not sure what made me think that grocery shopping would be the answer to missing four workouts because I’m feeling so sick, but off I went.

I should have just put on my running shoes and gone for an easy walk around the block.

As you can assume, the grocery store was not the answer.

But it is funny—two years ago, I would have smoked a cigarette or had a couple of drinks to soothe my crabby mood. Today, while walking the aisles of the grocery store, I imagined myself chopping wood.

I haven’t done a lot of wood chopping in my life but it seemed to be one of the most physical activities that I could think of in that moment.

It seems odd that I didn’t think of mile 18 in the marathon, doesn’t it? But I went with the wood chopping. And there in the card aisle, my pulse actually went from 110 beats per minute (hyper-crabby, you might say) to a respectable 67 beats per minutes.

Two years ago I don’t think I would have guessed that exercise would be such an important character in my life. And I definitely wouldn’t have thought that visualizing wood chopping would calm my crabbies.  

Visualizing wood chopping, however, did not prevent me from buying fancy licorice and sugar cookies at the grocery store, both of which were not on my grocery list.

All the more reason to run tomorrow.