Well that escalated quickly

So when I last posted I did a recap of my first ultra and said how I had really lost my mojo for running.  So I decided on that day, June 30, 2020, that I would finally go for my first ever 300 mile month and further make the requirement that I run 10 miles minimum every day.  I'm not one of those who is good at "starting my new diet on Monday" so to speak so I ran ten miles that day.  I continued on throughout the month of July, logging 334 miles that month.  I continued to run at least ten a day through the 9th of August and then my body said I needed a break so I went back to my more normal mileage.  But I learned, yet again, that high(ish) mileage is so much more of a mind thing than a body thing.  

Now for the title...what escalated quickly you ask?  

At the end of last year I told myself that I was running my first 100 this year.  And then they kept getting cancelled.  While virtual races might do it for some people, they just aren't for me, plus none of my canceled races went virtual, they just gave you entry into next year.  I still had my chance at a 100 miler in Iowa in October but I started getting worried that it would be cancelled also.  I found a race that I was pretty sure wouldn't be cancelled and signed up.  For a 48 hours.  In Oklahoma.  In early September.  Predicted temps of upper 80's to mid 90's.  And humidity.  And I've never done a race in the heat.  What could go wrong?  I'm three weeks out from that now and about 8 weeks out from the 100 miler in Iowa.  I also have the 24 hour in KS in November.  Regardless, I'm hoping to cover 100 miles in the 48 hour and definitely get my first 100 miler in this year.  

Oh also when I registered for the Potawatomi run next year, which was cancelled from this year, I signed up for the 150 instead of the 100.  Because what could go wrong?   I feel like that is becoming a theme.  

So mileage will stay around 60 a week through the next two weeks and then have a taper week headed into the 48 hour.  So far it's looking like the race might be held, with restrictions.  Fingers crossed.  

Goals?

Don't die

Keep moving

100 miles

My A goal if everything goes perfect is 150 miles but I've never run more than 65 or so, so I'm sure that is ludicrous.  But this whole thing is ludicrous so why not dream big, right?  What could go wrong?  

And so it began...Prairie Spirit Trail 50 miler...March 2019

My first ultra was my first race in over ten years.  It was also my first race longer than 5K.  And I was never any good at the 5K's to tell the truth.  I would love to tell you I had some deep reason for trying an ultra but I would be lying.  I started running, kept running, and realized over time that while my paces were super slow, they were consistently super slow.  My pace for a 5 miler was the same as my pace for a 15 miler or a 20 miler.  So I decided that if I ran a super long race, maybe I could finish it and not be a laughing stock. 

So I chose PST 50 miler as my first.  It was late March and in Kansas.  I assumed the weather would be okayish.  I picked a motel out near the start finish.  This was an out and back run on a flat rail trail.  I assumed that would work fine.  I did a lot of assuming. 

The race day weather was not okayish.  I mean I guess it was for those people that knew what the heck they were doing.  I believe the course records in all distances fell that day.  But I had been a wimp and run on the treadmill when it was cold so I didn't have clue how to dress for a day out in this weather.  It rained.  It snowed.  It sleeted.  The winds were over 25 mph.  And those weren't the gusts. 

So I talked myself out of my first panic attack of the day and moved on.  I put on all of my clothes.  I get my numbers pinned on and we head for the start line.  Thankfully we got to sit inside a warm building until the start. 

So I sat there feeling like a complete fraud and completely unprepared.  We gathered at the start line and it started to snow.  We were all looking at each other, just waiting for someone to say "what the heck" but none of us did.  Then they told us to start so I did.  I ran the first 10 miles at an okay pace.  There were lots of people that were walking and running and when they would run they would pass me and then I would pass then when they were walking.  This was my first introduction into that form of pacing and I noticed as time went on that those who did the run/walk looked less like death than the rest of us back of the packers. 

About 12 miles in I stepped on a rock wrong and twisted my ankle.  At the time I convinced myself that I could not run anymore but over time, as I've done a few more races, I realize I could of.  I was giving myself an out to just plod along at a walking pace because my ankle hurt and it was my first ultra. 

So I ran a bit more but mostly walked.  I got to the halfway point and there was a train I had to wait on.  I talked to another guy while we waited for the train to pass and I thought we were doing okay and he thought we were pitiful wretches.  I mean we were but we were moving.  

The rest of the day was a blur.  I ran.  I had a pacer for one six mile section but by then I was just walking and I felt horrible that she was cold and I was so behind when I thought I would meet her (sorry Dana).  That was when I decided I would never have another pacer.  I enjoyed talking to her and she really lifted my spirits but the whole time I also just felt horrible for not running with her.  I should have just made myself run but at that point in my story I didn't realize I could make myself do hard things yet. 

Anywho, I walked and walked and walked and walked and even caught a few other lost souls.  I peed in the woods off the trail and my headlamp died while doing so.  That was fun.  My achilles ached horribly from the flat course and my upper back was so sore also.  I didn't drink enough and got so dehydrated that at the final aid station they said I was speaking Romulan.  I didn't eat enough.

I finally hobbled across the finish line after 14 1/2 hours.  I wasn't last but I was close to it.  But I hadn't quit and I got my belt buckle. 

I learned so much in that first ultra.  It took me about a week to walk normally but I kept running daily and kept my run streak alive.  I digested my lessons and beat myself up about my slow pace and refusal to run when I really probably could have and definitely should have.  And before I knew it, I had signed up for a 100K. 

Ultrarunning during Covid

Cancelled.

Rescheduled then cancelled. 

Cancelled. 

So goes the course of my spring races.  I don't sign up for summer races because I'm a wimp and don't do heat well. 

I wish I could say I had been vigorously training but work has been insane (they actually cut our pay while everyone else was getting essential worker bonuses).  Go us.  I guess.  And my knee has been wonky and randomly swelling.  Which are just two excuses for me being lazy and unmotivated.  Gotta get back in the saddle.  My run streak is alive and well at over 900 days so I'm running daily, just not enough to prepare for what lies ahead (eventually). 

My first 100 miler was supposed to be Potawatomi.  It has 16000 feet of gain (which just means we get to walk a lot), and about 100 creek crossings (exaggerated...perhaps).  It got cancelled fairly early and rescheduled to next year.  Then my last man standing race got pushed from May 1 to May 30 to now August 1st but I can't imagine it being run with the increase in cases.

So now the schedule looks like:
August 1st...last man standing (maybe)
mid October...Mines of Spain 100.  It's a 20 mile looped course with 14000 feet hills. 
Mid November...KUS 24 hour 

I'm hoping Covid goes away.  I'm hoping my knee gets better.  I'm hoping my mojo returns.  I need a massive goal for July but July is in 2 days and as of yet all I can come up with is seeing if I can consume 2 pounds of chocolate a day. 

Midlife crisis

I haven't checked in here in six years.  Six years.  So what happens to a surrogate that retires in six years?  Well for me, the kids all grew up.  They moved out.  The first six months I swear I just slept and read books.  We took some nice vacations.  We still went to work every day and did normal stuff but I feel like the first six months were truly just recovering from raising kids for over 20 years.  Then the inevitable "what's next" came up.  I recognized the question because I faced it when I retired from surrogacy.  So what was next? 

I have been a jogger (plodder) for years now.  I would jog some and then not do it again for a month and then go for a jog again.  For some unknown reason, on 12/29/2017 I went for a run and decided to do it daily.  Today, 3/10/20, I'm over 800 days into a run streak.  I started and just haven't ever stopped.  Meanwhile my husband had a mini-stroke and we went plant based in our eating (mostly...we cheat some) and he joined me on my run streak, his first day being 3/24/2019. 

After about a year of running daily I decided I wanted to try a race.  Joe and I had been training for a half marathon when he had his mini-stroke but that didn't excite me.  I had done a 5K or two in the past and that didn't excite me either.  So I signed up for a 50 miler.  Because why not?  I did the 50 miler in March of 2019 and loved/hated every minute of it.  I signed up for a 100K that fall, followed 2 weeks later by a 24 hour race.  I loved/hated every minute of those too.  So I signed up for my first 100 miler.  It is in 3 weeks.  More to come on that later. 

I did a tune up run, a 12 hour race last weekend.  It was a blast.  In a stunning turn of events I won my age group (and I wasn't the only one in my age group).  I'm still slow and never will not be slow but I am learning how to hurt I think. 

So that's the update.  I plan to post here for myself, so I can talk about my ultras and training without boring those people in my life I love. 

Retirement

is so much harder to be ok with when all your geriatric friends are embarking on another round of surrogacy. 

But 99% of the time I am ok with it.  It feels right.  It feels like a wonderful, magical thing that I did and will always be proud of. 

Life here is good.  The boys started their junior year of high school  Holy God how did that happen.  Our babies are 16 and juniors. 

I am still at the plant and typing.  Got another raise at the ethanol plant and the hubster got a raise that same week at his job.  Thank heavens because with two teen drivers that are boys we are bleeding money constantly.  Somehow I doubt the college years will be much better even though we have always said that we won't pay for college for them, just help.  My parents didn't pay for college for me and having to pay for it myself made me appreciate it so much more.  All five kids have always known that they have to either get scholarships, work their way through college, or join the military.

Summer here was weird and strange and good...sort of. We took one trip and the hubster got bitten by a tick and got Lyme Disease.  I wrecked my bike and so did Boy #2. 

Boy #2 is going to have knee surgery next week.  Hopefully this will put an end to his knee pain.

So that's it for us here.  Surro kids are all doing well.  The Canadians are revving up for a sibling with a fellow Missouri surrogate.  I'm thrilled for all of them.  The Swede's youngest baby (carried by another surrogate) turned one two days ago.  As the days continue to roll along and as I get further and further from my active surrogacy days, the more I realize how long term surrogacy is and how really wonderful it is.  My surrogate babies are now 7/7/6/6/3 and 1. 

Where ya been?

I'm baaaaaacccccckkkk.

Well not really back.  Still retired from surrogacy.  After all my wishy-washyness, thankfully a doctor advised me not to carry again and that was the end of the wishy-washy.  Or did he?  That's another story that is too long to get in to.  Long story (very, very, very long story) short is that I am done.  I know I've said it before.  I know I'm a complete flake when it comes to this.  But I think for my health and the sake of my family I need to be done.  And I'm ok with that. 

So what's up in my world now that I'm not obsessing about populating the world with babies for gay men?  Lots.  Lots.  And lots.  We have employed kids...we have scuba classes...we have work galore...and we have a prison escape (maybe?) story that is very Shawshank Redemptionish. So buckle up and hang on.

Boy 2 has a job.  An actual, honest to goodness job.  He installs gutters and comes home and tells me these horrible stories about hanging over the edge of roofs, etc., that make me cringe.  He is happy with the job though, makes good money, and has eased the burden on my checkbook.  That's all good, right?  Boy 3 is frothing at the bit to work.  He is watching the whole working = spending money situation evolve with Boy 2 and he is very anxious to turn 16 and have his turn.  Not long now. 

Scuba classes you say?  Yep.  When I finally laid the idea of surrogacy to rest, I decided to start working on the bucket list.  Item one is to learn to scuba dive.  I am exploring class option as we speak.  Item two on the bucket list is to get another motorcycle.  I really miss mine.  We are picking that up on Thursday.  At this rate I may need to add more to the bucket list.  :) 

Work galore...check.  I am averaging 48 hours a week at the plant and then probably 15 to 20 typing.  It's all good since kids are EXPENSIVE but when I get a moment of free time, I really enjoy it. 

Prison escape?  Do tell. 
This story requires no embellishment.  If it wasn't so wrong and stupid and well...bad, it would be funny. 

So in typical Boy 1 fashion, he can't just behave and do what he is supposed to.  Even in prison.  So he was on cell restriction which basically means you can't leave your cell except to shower and eat (what...the cells aren't locked?  Yeah...I didn't know that either).  Anywho, he decides that he has had enough of this whole cell restriction thing and should head to the gym.  I had not heard from him in a while but knew he was on cell restriction and could not call so I was not worried.   A week or so ago, the husband comes home for lunch and there's a orange envelope in the mailbox with URGENT scrawled on it.  Inside is a violation report from inside the prison.  Apparently Boy 1 left his cell and someone told on him.  (Imagine from here on in official prison lingo).  The guard approaches his cell and knocks.  No answer.  Guard enters cell and yells for the boy to get up.  No answer but he can see him lying on the bed.  Guard kicks the bunk.  No answer.  Guard pulls back blankets to find a perfect mannequin made up of clothes.  This thing has a jacket on, shoes, the whole nine yards.  So they go looking for the idiot and he is headed back to the cell from the gym.  Did I mention he's an idiot.  They could charge him with out of bounds or escape.  Even though he was heading back, because of the elaborate dummy, they charged him with escape.  Not sure what the consequences are for that.   This kid/adult...he has me so confused.  We tried literally everything and from age 13 on he would not behave.  Just would not.  In the nature versus nurture argument, he is a quandary.  If it is nature, then why is his full biological brother a straight A student, excellent athlete, and a hard worker?  If it is nurture...um I raised him from birth the exact same as I raised his brother.  So not nature...not nurture...perhaps just born a certain way?  I'm not trying to pass blame off of myself.  I made mistakes and I admit I did.  But who doesn't as a parent?  He was loved and always had everything he needed, though maybe not everything he wanted.  I have never really broken a rule in my life other than a speeding ticket or two.  I don't drink and never have.  I can't imagine ever trying a cigarette, much less drugs.  So where does this kid come from?  And how can I understand him?  At this point I just settle for writing him letters and telling him I love him but he has to change his life if he wants to be a part of ours.  Maybe he will some day. 

And that is about it for the update.  I still hear from the parents of four of the six surrogate kids regularly.  I only hear from the dad of the Boston twins about once a year but that is fine...I always said up front that the degree of relationship is totally up to the parents...these are their families and I am happy to have any level of contact that they will grant me. 
 

Updates

What a crazy life this is.  Just when you think you have something figured out, something else is thrown your way.  I don't even mean that negatively.  I just feel like I can never find a place to just sit and breathe...I am always running to catch up or to at least not get further behind.

This month has seen some changes:

The good:

The boy made first team all conference and first team all district as a sophomore.  He rocks. 

I have finally found a way to make physical exercise and myself a priority in my life.  It requires a 5am wake up call M-F but if that's what it takes, I will do it. 

I got a raise at work...and when I say I got a raise, I mean I got a RAISE.  Like a...holy shit this can't be right, go see HR and tell them my paycheck is wrong and they say no it's not raise. 

Surrogacy might not be 100% off the table for me.

I have 100% weaned, the pump is put away and while I don't have my boobs back yet, I no longer have Dolly Parton's boobs either.

The bad:

Surrogacy might not be 100% off the table for me.

The boy backed into a pole with his truck...800 dollars later.

The boy dropped and broke his phone (this one cost me nothing...he can live with a broken phone...told the punk to put a case on it but oh no...he's too cool for a case). 





So yeah.  Life is pretty good right now.  I ran/walked a 5K this morning to support colorectal cancer support.  Afterwards I tried to go to the new donut shop but it was so busy I turned away. I may not have resisted due to my awesome willpower but the end result is that I still didn't have donut.  Score. 

That's about it.  Until next time.