Training for TNB Marathon

So, remember my tribute to Grandma Anna who passed away in August? And her final jab aimed to make me squirm: “Hey, Lisa [my wife]…when’s the baby coming?”

Well, turns out it was less of a jab and something far more eerie. You see, my wife was a couple of weeks pregnant, but we just didn’t know it yet.

Well, we think our alien baby is cute.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. This week is supposed to be about balance, and I do have a reason for the announcement of The New Ballou (or TNB for short) on this topic, but let me answer your questions first so we can get back on track.

• We’re thrilled and as ready as we’ll ever be.
• Our first.
• The wife is almost 17 weeks along with TNB expected Mid-May (very close to when GILT debuts).
• We haven’t found out if TNB is a boy or girl yet, but will before Christmas. I’m a planner, folks, there’s no WAY I could keep it a secret from myself.
• Yes, we’re very much enjoying sleep now. And freedom.
• Uh huh. I understand my life is about to change. A lot. Which bring us to the topic of the week…Balance.

First, a disclaimer: I’m *EXTREMELY* pumped about TNB – becoming a father is… the thing I was put on Earth to do.

However, to a lesser degree, I feel similarly about writing. It’s one of my top priorities. Up until now I’ve had to balance my writing with a full time job, a very accommodating wife, a (busy) tight-knit family, two awesome dogs, and my own bodily needs. A baby means…less time, more responsibility, fewer dollars, new priorities, and being way, way more exhausted. In summary, throwing TNB into the mix = goodbye current equilibrium. 

I’m like Katherine, fearful of loosing the ability to write. Honestly, I’ll admit to having long conversations with my writing tribe about what to expect. Am I going to have time to write? Will I fall asleep at the keyboard? Should I just kill the storyteller in me and hope he rises from the dead when the kids leave for college?

In one of those conversations, a friend mentioned that it’ll be a marathon – grueling, painful, and draining. “But,” she said, “People run marathons all the time.” And it hit me: I’ve run a marathon. I survived.  

How?

I trained.

Could I prepare for this shockingly new life? A task both infinitely harder and infinitely more rewarding.

I’m not sure – I’m coming up with it as I go along. But here are some of the things I learned in my marathon days, that I’m now applying:  

Set a goal: When I signed up for my marathon, other than my name, age, and credit card number, they asked me what time I wanted to hit. I happily selected the four hour box and moved on. Turns out, that feels a lot longer when you’re running…so I broke the pace down into just under nine minute miles. I can do almost anything for that long…I figured those intervals would stack up and, eventually, I’d be done with my race in a blaze of glory.

With TNB, I’ll keep setting goals. I’m not sure what will work, but I’m hoping for an hour per day. Now, even that might have to come in smaller chunks, but I can do an hour a day. (Even if it means skipping Modern Family – yes, even that).

Know the course: When getting ready for the race, I wanted to make sure I trained on a similar terrain. The route was hilly, so I made sure to find some hills to run on. Simple.

I understand my chunks of uninterrupted time are going to be pulverized. But babies sleep (sometimes – hopefully – maybe yours didn’t, but I’ve heard some do). Mommy takes them to the store. Grandparents babysit. There are lots of cracks in life where I hope to squeeze in my manuscript.

Currently, I’m training myself to write at these moments…I try 20 minutes here, 15 there. I stop mid-sentence and come back the next time, picking the thread up. At first, it was mighty difficult, but every time “getting into the zone” gets easier. Leaving a thought dangling has helped because it’s easy to finish a sentence...then not so hard to come up with the next one. Before I know it, the pages are a’flyin’.

Be in the right conditions: Same as knowing the course, I wanted to train in the right conditions. For example, my race started at 7am, so I ran many of my training runs groggy in the morning.

Speaking of groggy, another part of the baby-raising is being tired. It’s impossible to fathom the sheer level of exhaustion that TNB will bring. However, I’m learning to write in those instants where I cringe/yawn at the thought of opening the computer and finishing off that sentence. I set myself an easy goal: “Try it for 10 minutes, then go watch TV. You can do 10 minutes.” Most the time the 10 minutes turns into 20 or 30 or whenever I’m forced to stop.  

Get the right equipment: I was going to be living (or dying) in my running shoes, but after 26 miles, the socks, underwear, and rest of the garb become critical too. I didn’t nickel and dime. Getting the right stuff (within a good $ range) was more important than saving a little extra dinero.

THAT is a manly desk

As some of you may know, I’m a *Bux junkie. After May, spending countless hours there will end. I want to be home as much as possible. So, essentially, I’m reproducing all my *Bux comforts at home. It’ll be a lot more efficient to get to the changing table when I just have to walk a couple rooms over rather than a couple blocks. We got an awesome desk. (Tangent: It’s HUGE. As in Donald-Trump-eat-your-heart-out size. But I love it and I get excited about writing at it). And guess what I asked Santa to bring me. Yep, my very own espresso machine. 

                                                      Barista Bret, at your service.

Bring cheerleaders: I arranged for my cousins to show up at mile 18 to cheer me on. It was the moment when I was facing “The Wall” and their support got me up and (mostly) over it.

Between my wife, family, friends, and The Muses, I’ve got a whole Dallas Cowgirls lineup rooting for me. They all know how important being a father is to me, but also how much I care about writing. They’re already pushing me when I need it, listening when I need that, and generally, just keeping me on track. Best of all, they’re committed to keeping me going when I’m facing “The Wall.”

Wear the dinky medal proudly: When I finally crossed the finish line, they handed me the same medal they handed the other 25,000 runners. Before collapsing into a sweaty heap, I looked at the clock. After all the training – doing all the right things – I was sure to be minutes under my four hour goal.

NOPE.

My time was four hours, one minute, and a handful of seconds. Yep, over 26 miles and I missed my target by a G-D#%$ minute. But, you know what? I plopped my feet in the ice bath and enjoyed my accomplishment.

I planned to say something inspiring here about not letting something like a G-D#%$ minute get in the way of true success. That I had to learn to forgive myself and will have to do so when I miss my writing goals due to baby duty. But, honestly, Talia nailed it on Wednesday and I don’t want to compete with her perfect post on the subject.

So to all those who made it to the end of this ridiculously long post: Congrats, you’ve completed a marathon of your own.

Here’s a medal. 

+++++

P.S. Make sure to swing by Monday, because we're launching another contest! 

(Folks, it's a doozy this time - I'm jealous that I can't win)