Yes, Ma'am. I'm a Badass Mother Runner.

This week, I finally ordered the running shirt I have been salivating over for months.  It's from the gals at Run Like A Mother, Dimity and Sarah, two very inspirational mother runners who tell it like it is.  The shirt is black and reads "badass mother runner."  Sure the language may not be right for everyone, but it sure is right for me.

After all, I'm a badass mother runner.

Today I had to do an 8 mile run.  The first 3 miles were absolutely horrible.  Everything hurt.  My knees, my feet, my toes, my head.  And that voice in my head was loudly shouting "What are you doing?  Why are  you running?  It hurts so stop!  You don't need to do this!" etc etc etc.  You know that voice.

But then I looked down and saw the writing on my shirt.

Badass mother runner.

A badass mother runner doesn't quit. 
She may complain a little, but she sure as heck doesn't quit.

So I picked up my pace.  And my attitude.  
And I channeled my inner badass.

I started to think, as I ran through mile 4, what makes me a badass mother runner?  And I spent the next 4 miles coming up with the top 10 reasons why I'm a BAMR.  Here they are:

10. My runnung playlist includes everything from AC/DC to Dolly Parton to Eminem to Elvis to Madonna to the Proclaimers to ZZ Top.  And yes it even includes Miley Cyrus.  And I'm not afraid to admit it.

9.  I like to play the air drums when I run.  And pump my fist in the air.  And sing outloud.  Apologies to those who share the road.

8.  My muffin top jiggles when I run, but I run anyway.  No apologies for that.

7.  I'm 41 and I run in pigtails.  No apologies there either.

6.  When I was 2, my family survived an attack by pirates in the South China Sea.  True story.  You are automtically a badass if you fight off pirates, no matter how old you are.

5. I birthed my 3 baby boys at home, naturally, without so much as an advil.  Boy #2 was 10 pounds.  If I can push that hefty boy out, I can do anything.

4.  I took up running just over a year ago.  My first race was a half marathon.  My second race was a full marathon, which I ran in an astounding 5 hours, 28 minutes.

3.  When I was laughed at to my face for my marathon time, I stood strong because I knew I had thousands of other mother runners at my side.  I suspect that most of them are badass as well.

2.  I have 3 sons.  Enough said.

And the number 1 reason why I am a badass mother runner:

I can clean up a bathub full of little boy poop, unclog a backed up toilet, mop up a flooded bathroom all in the blink of an eye, knock down a couple of martinis and then wake up a few hours later and run 8 miles like only a badass mother runner could.

So, what makes you a badass mother runner?

Wonder Woman Wednesday, Week 1 - Jiggly bits.

I realize that there are many versions of Wonder Woman - just google image her and you'll get 15 million - yes million! - different pictures.  Some are the iconic Lynda Carter in her 70s best, others the original DC Comic cartoon.  There are various, um, sexualized versions, and plenty of girls and women dressed in their Halloween finest, or perhaps not so finest.

No matter what google shows me though, I have an image in my mind of what Wonder Woman looks like - a strong, fit, confident woman.  I love the above picture, even though Lynda Carter's waist is cinched in so much that it looks like she can't breathe.

Motherhood certainly does a job on a woman's body.  Though never skinny, I used to have a good curvy figure.  I was trim and healthy and felt pretty decent in a bathing suit.

Then I got pregnant.  And gained 60 pounds.   And then lost 50.
Then I got pregnant again.  And gained 60 pounds.  And then lost 50.
Then I got pregnant again.  And gained 60 pounds.  And then lost 50.

You know what is coming next...an excess of 30 pounds.  Plus a 10 pound baby boy - my other 2 were small, only in the mid 8 pound range -  will do a number on the ol' tummy muscles, leaving them forever stretched, flabby and rolly polly.  Muffin top central.

Add to this the fact that my husband works for a major candy manufacturer - and has access to all the free chocolate a gal can handle.  And I mean good chocolate.  The really good kind.

I've been trying to lose these darn 30 pounds for a few years now.  And the pesky things just won't go away!  I've read every diet book there is, and tried a good number of them out and failed miserably at each and every one.

I even ran a marathon last year, thinking that all that exercise would result in millions of calories burned.  Well sure those miles burned calories, but those miles also made me ravenous.  So not a single pound was lost.  Sure I had great leg muscles, but said muscles were still covered by jiggly bits.

The truth is, I love to cook.  And I love to eat what I cook.  And eat what others cook for me.  And eat what Panera Bread bakes for me, too.

And I love a glass (or 3) of cabernet.  Or merlot.  And I've rarely met a martini I didn't like.

And don't even get me started on chocolate.  Oh, the chocolate! Dark, milk, white, spicy, flavored with liqueur, in various shapes, colors and wrappers.  You get the picture.

Now it's fine for me to joke about eating and drinking, but when it comes down to it, I am not comfortable in my own skin.  And I haven't been for a while.  I know what I have to do to lose weight - eat healthy, eat less and exercise more - but it is really really hard.  I marvel at how people lose 50, 100, 200 pounds or more.  And I complain about my 30. 

Truth is, I think I've been lazy.  I know what to do, I just haven't done it.

So my first step in rediscovering my inner Wonder Woman is to give myself a kick in the pants - my larger size pants - and get to work at losing these 30 pounds.

I'm realistic about my body.  I know that motherhood and age change a body in ways that you can't necessarily reverse - without a scalpel anyway.  So I'm not expecting to look like Lynda Carter.  I just want to feel good in my own skin and not self conscious about my various jiggly bits.

So I'm finishing off my glass of merlot and getting to work.

This tough broad's new name.

Since I became a stay at home mom, or family manager, or home CEO, or whatever I want to call it on any given day, I've really struggled with my identity.  Before kids, I was slated for a great career in corporate America with a generous salary and recognition for my work.  Now, after kids, my home is my work place and my days are filled with laundry, cooking, cleaning, child care and the occasional Panera trip with various mom friends. 

Thanks to these Panera trips, and three babies that unapologetically changed my metabolism and body structure, I struggle with my physical identity as well.  I carry around an extra few pounds, and thanks to mass media and women's magazines that tell me over and over again how to lose weight, sometimes I think I never will be comfortable in my own skin.  I thought my marathon training - all 400+ miles of running over 18 weeks - would get rid of my jiggly bits.  Well, I have muscles of steel now, but the jiggly bits remain firmly - or un-firmly, as it were - in place over said muscles of steel.   

I've had an ongoing battle in my head for years - should I get rid of the extra 20 pounds or finally accept that they are part of me and embrace my body?  This body that has given birth to 3 boys - naturally, without so much as an advil, one baby at 10 pounds (!), all born at home?  This body that spent 6 years nursing my babies?  This body that provides a safe and nurturing home for my family, 24 hours a day?  And of course, this body that can hold my fair share of Woman Warrior martinis? This body has more strength in it than I ever thought possible.  I never thought I'd ever run 5 miles, let alone 26.2.  But here I am, running mile after mile after mile, and thoroughly enjoying it. 

I had a moment of clarity while running this past weekend.  My BFF Beth joined me for a couple of loops at the park during my short, comparatively speaking, 14 mile run.  I had my typical long run attire on - capris, running skirt, tank top, visor and pigtails.  (Yes I'm 41 and run in pigtails.  I LOVE it!)  The path encircles numerous baseball fields. It was opening day for the local men's league and there were a lot of fine men pitching and hitting and running.  And of course they checked us out as we ran by.  I felt a little self conscious, thinking about the muffin top and jiggly bits, and Beth and I had our usual conversation about body image.  Then she said I was like a roller derby girl.  At first I was aghast, but then I pictured a roller derby girl.  Strong and tough.  Physically and mentally.  No skinny legs for those gals.  Tattooed.  Check, have one of those (now you know mum, I have a tattoo)  Bright colored clothes.  I always run in bright pink. And lip gloss.

Hmm, maybe Beth is on to something.  Maybe I just need to look at myself differently.  Not as a runner who has a few pounds to lose, but as a strong woman who is one tough broad.  But in a nice way, of course.

A cool name is a must for a roller derby girl.  I've been calling myself a muffin top marathon mom, but I need something much edgier than that.  So I thought of the tattoo on my right shoulder.  I designed it myself and I'm proud of it.  It has three thistles, one for each of my boys, and represents my strong Scottish heritage.  And the thistles are pink, of course.  The leaves of the thistles form the shape of Ohm, a very meaningful symbol to me from the time I spent living in India. 

So now when I run, I'm the Pink Thistlenator. 

Step aside, skinny girls, I'm coming through.  Jiggly bits and all.