The Cost of Parenting

I’ve always wondered about the true cost of raising a child.

Occasionally I’ll see news reports about the estimated dollar amount that is required to raise a child for 18 years. Several parenting-related websites have charts for new or prospective parents to assess this information, and the USDA even has a child-cost calculator that considers variables like the price of housing, clothing, healthcare, and so on.

Of course there are numerous faults in such methods, like the obvious one: what kid is financially independent by age 18? Not to mention, the major costs of parenting aren’t necessarily the big-ticket items like a mortgage or health insurance, but the relentless nickel-and-dime stuff like replacing broken sunglasses or buying a jumbo bag of popcorn just to go shopping in Target. And until there’s a calculator that factors in the increased number of 20-oz sport bottles I have to buy because my kids always chew the bite valves apart, I’m not listening.

I bring all this up because my 2-year-old daughter recently discovered the delight in picking the child-proof lock to my bathroom drawer in order to pull out my Bodyglide and dig her fingers through it like a block of Play-Doh. Apparently Bodyglide ranks right up there with toothpaste and hair lotion in the “unusual texture that feels really cool when you squish it, and makes Daddy act crazy when he sees it” category. Unfortunately, it only takes a few episodes of this to render the Bodyglide more or less unusable.

It’s seems equally hopeless and pointless to try curbing such behavior, so let’s just say I’m eagerly waiting this particular phase out. And on top of whatever parenting costs I’ve racked up to this point, I’ll just go ahead and put another seven bucks on my tab.

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Taper Time

(If it seems like I'm writing about rainbows a lot, that's because it's STILL raining just about every day here. Just thought it was worth mentioning...)

Throughout the day on Friday I had developed this unsettling sense of foreboding about my scheduled long run the next morning. Our weather forecasters had been talking all week long about an arriving storm on Saturday morning, and as late as Friday afternoon they weren’t budging off that prediction.

This past weekend was three weeks before Big Sur, meaning I had to do one of my longest training runs, and Sunday morning wasn’t an option. Given that I had already bailed out on the previous weekend’s scheduled long run, I couldn’t really blow off two weeks in a row without my confidence going into a tailspin. So Saturday’s scheduled run was more or less non-negotiable.

And it looked like I would be doing it in the rain again. I can’t say I was excited about the prospect.

Then just before dinner, my 4-year-old daughter was standing at the window and shouted, “Hey! Come see the rainbow!” We all ran over, and this is what we saw:

The picture doesn’t really do it justice. The colors were more deep and prominent than anything I’ve seen in a long time, and the sunlight around it took on a hundred different shades of white and yellow. It was one of those moments where you stop whatever you’re doing and take it all in, because you know the beauty is just as fleeting as it is impressive.

It was exactly what I needed to lift my spirits. I went to bed with a glimmer of optimism that perhaps the storm would pass more quickly than expected during the night.

The following morning four of us met at the finish line of the Big Sur Marathon, and ran down and back on the course we will be racing less than three weeks from now. We covered 23 miles, kept a steady pace through Carmel Highlands (the most difficult hills at miles 21-23 of the course), and picked up the pace for the final miles.

Best of all, my optimism from the previous night proved accurate. The rains that had been promised never showed up. It was a spectacular morning on one of the most beautiful coastlines in the world.

The run was exactly what I needed to lift my spirits. The miles were tough, but with each passing one I could feel my confidence for race day building. And when we finished, we all had the satisfaction of knowing that the hardest training was now behind us.

Usually the tapering period arrives like a rainbow after the storminess of running high mileage for several weeks. It reassures you that things are happening as they are supposed to, and gives a sense of optimism about the task ahead.

My spirits are lifted. The training storm is over. Race day approaches.

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Big Sur Advice

Before we get to today’s post, I’m wondering…how does Mandisa’a being voted off American Idol this week compare to major upsets in sports? It was like the Indianapolis Colts losing in the divisional playoffs, or Team Canada failing to advance in the Olympic hockey tournament. I was almost as shocked to see this as I was watching Paula Radcliffe’s DNFs at the Olympics. Yes, I think about these things. But that’s enough for now, because today’s post is a long one…


From time to time, though various avenues - either via blogging or my newspaper column or mutual acquaintances – I get questions about marathon training. And as spring approaches, many of those people are seeking information about the Big Sur Marathon.

One very cool thing about having this blog is that I’ve come across some local runners who will be doing their first marathon at Big Sur this month. I’ve found that although the web is world wide, it is also great for making local connections (Sorry, that sounds like a slogan for match.com, but you get the idea.)

In particular, I’ve exchanged e-mails with a man in Pacific Grove who first contacted me in January for training advice during his buildup to Big Sur. Unfortunately, he also happens to be the head football coach at our rival high school, whose teams have kicked Carmel High’s butt pretty consistently over the past several years. I felt like Jan Ullrich waking up one morning to find an e-mail from Lance Armstrong in his in-box.

Demonstrating our collective maturity, we decided to overlook our conflicting loyalties and maintain friendly relations. This was pushing the envelope of graciousness for me – let’s just say I wouldn’t extend the same courtesy to Pete Carroll if he ever called me out of the blue. But it turns out I like the guy, so go figure.

Anyway, most of his questions are very typical of novice runners. Since I happen to know a handful of first-time marathoners, and a lot of folks who are preparing for Big Sur, I thought posting these questions and answers would be beneficial for a larger group of readers.

So, for Brian, Dave, Kim, and anyone else who is gearing up for Big Sur: pay attention, this is for you. As for anyone else, feel free to read along as well (Or don’t. My hit counter has already registered you anyway. It’s up to you.)

***
Question 1- Hills: I've noticed that in training runs, I sort of settle into a hill. What I mean by this is that at the start of the hill I get a little moody, breathe harder, etc. Then, as I progress up the hill, everything calms down, and it almost feels like it gets easier for a while. It this at all normal?

A: I think your observation is pretty typical. You're probably settling into a rhythm that your body feels it can maintain for the length of the hill. All those jitters at the bottom of the hill are just your fight-or-flight alarms going off.

Just wait until you're at the base of Hurricane Point, and you hear the Taiko drummers thundering in your ears as you stare up the hill. I mean...I get excited just typing things like that [Ed note: In fact, I wrote a whole article about it once. I’ll post it here soon.]

Anyway, the take home lesson is to not worry about how fast or slow you are going on the long hills, but just find a comfortable groove and ride it to the top.

Question 2 – Wind: I read in one of your previous articles that you have to view the wind as just another part of the course, and I'm not really afraid of the wind. Is it predominately a head wind or a side wind? It's almost more difficult for me to hold a rhythm when I'm getting pushed from the side.

A: The winds at Big Sur are typically on a diagonal coming from the north and west. It can easily shift to a headwind or a direct lateral wind, though. One year we saw guys getting blown sideways all over the place going up Hurricane Point (and yes, that day pretty much sucked). Pretty much the only thing about which you can be certain is that it will never EVER be a tailwind, so don't even get your hopes up.

Question 3 – Pacing: As a first time marathoner, how should I approach my pacing on race day? Typically my long runs go something like this - my first six miles stay a little under the 10-minute mark (9:40-9:50), my next six are almost at 10 exactly, and my last six are a little over 10. I have also noticed about the same variance based on downhill (under 10), flat (a little under 10), and uphill (10 and 1/2 ish).

My main goal is to finish Big Sur safely, and I am pretty confident that I can accomplish that. I know conditions on race day will be a factor in my final time. I thought I would go more by feel than being a slave to the watch. "10" is such a nice round number and so easy to track in terms of a pace that it seems natural to stay in that neighborhood. What's a good way for a first timer to pace?

A: The best answer is to pace yourself by effort, and let your split times fluctuate up and down with the terrain. The Hurricane Point miles may take you 1-2 minutes per mile slower than your average pace, and that's OK. You'll naturally go out a little faster than average in the first few downhill miles, but you need to be very careful to not get carried away and go too quickly. You may also get an adrenaline rush just after the halfway point and feel like you can make up some time, but DON'T DO IT! Even if you feel fantastic during miles 15-20, keep holding back until you hit the final 10K. Experienced runners say the marathon starts at mile 20.

I like to think of it like operating a car or a bike - you want to cruise the middle of the race in a comfortable gear, and you always want to know there is at least one more gear you can shift into during the final stages of the race when the going gets tough.

I can't emphasize enough, and it's impossible for you to yet appreciate, exactly how difficult the last 10K of the race can be. Think of whatever your most arduous, difficult training run has been, and then magnify it times three (if you’re having a good day), or maybe even ten (if you’re having a bad day).

Yes, I'm purposely trying to scare you a bit here. Your mindset should be to stay very conservative through the entire race, and never lose your focus in that regard. At the same time, keep a positive attitude that you can persevere and overcome, and just keep plugging away. So be terrified, but optimistic. Got it?

Honestly, I wouldn't even worry about your finishing time. Your only goal should be to finish the race without it becoming a death march at the end. If you do this well, it will be a positive experience and you will be inspired to continue this wonderful habit you've started, whether it's with another marathon in the future or just as a beneficial lifelong habit. There will always be future races where you can worry about running faster.

***

So, if you’ve ever wondered what I do when I’m not running or blogging, here’s your answer – I’m pretty much thinking, talking, and writing about running. As my new friend the football coach told me in his last e-mail, “Your wife must be a saint.”

Um, yeah. No kidding.

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You Go Girls!

Perhaps it's old-fashioned, but I've always had this notion that female marathon runners are more admirable than male runners, because they frequently have to overcome more challenges just to participate. It just seems like the women I train with need to juggle their multiple responsibilities much more than the guys do, just to make it to workouts.

Truth be told, I've never known a dedicated female runner that I didn't hold in very high regard. So I wrote a Monterey Herald article last week trying to express these sentiments, to give the women their due appreciation.

Then my wife read the article, and the first thing she said was, "It's very condescending." Which totally took me by surprise, because it was the exact opposite response I was going for. Considering it now, I guess I see what she's saying, but I'm not positive that I agree with her on this one. Although if past history is any indication, she's probably right.

So there are two possible explanations here. The first is that I missed the mark in expressing my point. If that's the case, and if someone is offended, that wasn't my intention and I apologize.

The other possibility is that I just don't understand women. If that's true, and if the fact that I have a mother, a sister, a wife, and two daughters apparently hasn't helped me yet...then perhaps I never will.

Anyhow, you can read the article here and let me know if I'm way off base.

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Two in the Rain

OK, stop me if this sounds familiar – but when I picked up my son after school for our scheduled 5K workout, it was raining.

It wasn’t falling too heavily, so we stood under the eaves of the school library for a few minutes, then decided to give the workout a try. It was a mutual decision – and to my son’s credit, he didn’t seem overly concerned about getting a little wet.

It’s funny, but there’s a concept of psychology called “conditioning” that describes how we respond to what is presented to us in our environment. The same term is used for physical training. With that one decision to run in the rain, my son demonstrated progress on both fronts. (Honestly, I’m just trying to help the kid run – I’m not trying to go all Pavlov on him.)

So we ran again, and we were lucky to catch a brief break in the storm. We even saw the sun peek out a couple of times. Here is his workout:

1200m jog – 200m walk – 600m jog (last 100m fast) – 200m walk – 800m jog (last 100m fast)– 200m walk – 400m fast jog – 200m walk. Total distance 3800m.

And now here’s my question: when do I get to count this mileage toward my own training? When we first started, it wasn’t even a consideration, but now he’s going more than two miles total. That’s too much to just write-off, isn’t it?

I ask for a couple reasons. First, my mileage totals are always approximate. I’m not (yet) a GPS guy, and I do so many miles on trails that I’m always estimating my totals instead of knowing for sure. I typically err on the conservative side, but still I wonder sometimes if my 70-mile weeks are really more like 68 or 69. Which really wouldn’t matter so much if I weren’t so neurotic about these things. But if I could count the two extra miles yesterday, that gives me some margin of error. And who knows, that peace of mind might even help me sleep better (Did I mention I’m a bit neurotic? Just checking.).

Second, I mean…a mile is a mile, right? If I cover 2 additional miles with the kid on top of my 70 for the week, that should add up to a 72-mile week. Sure, we’re going at something like a 15-minute pace - but I’ve done slower miles than that in ultras, and you better believe that those miles count just as much as the faster ones.

At any rate, with less than 4 weeks until his 5K, I think the kid is coming along quite nicely. Yesterday’s workout was the farthest he has run, and he definitely showed signs of fatigue at the end. But he bounced back pretty well afterwards, and is developing a sense of confidence that he’ll be able to complete his race.

We’ve even come up with our own slogan, after two weeks of running in the rain, doing workouts that stretched his ability in ways he was unaccustomed to. Walking back to the car, he repeated the same words I told him after last week’s workout: “Running isn’t for sissies.”

He’s right. And I’m counting the two miles.

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The Agony and The Ecstasy (But Right Now, Mostly Agony)

(This post may be entirely too philosophical for a college hoops game, but I had a lot of time to think while UCLA was falling hopelessly behind last night...)

Ouch.

Monday night didn’t go exactly as I hoped, to put it mildly. It’s so strange how a group of players who look so good one night can become completely inept two nights later. Obviously the Bruins ran into a much better team last night, and never really had much chance of coming back once they fell so far behind.

So congratulations to the University of Florida on your first men’s basketball championship. 10 more to go and you’ll catch UCLA (sorry, that was easy…)

Actually, the outcome of last night’s game was decided so early, it gave me some time to ponder the nature of losing. I was asking myself questions like “Is getting blown out like this worse than losing a close game that turns on a few key plays, or worse than losing on a heartbreaking shot at the end of the game?”

I concluded that getting blown out definitely sucks. Probably worse than the other scenarios. It was just gut-wrenching to watch. I assumed a state of nearly-complete despair, occasionally interrupted by brief glimmers of hope that were invariably quashed mere moments later. Finally as all pretense of hope eroded, I started questioning why things like a college basketball game matter so much to me, and how they can make me feel so miserable.

And the longer I contemplated, the thought process became more familiar. Because I’ve had the same conversations with myself countless other times – not about college hoops, but about running.

I’ve had that same frustrated, anguished feeling after several races through the years. Whether it was because I didn’t perform as well as I hoped, because I narrowly missed a goal time, or because I inflicted an irrational amount of physical misery on myself to finish, there have been many times when I’ve questioned the stakes of my emotional investment in this sport.

Thankfully, I’ve mellowed somewhat in recent years, and don’t place nearly as much importance on my race results as I used to. But there is still a large part of me that thinks that racing really matters – because it’s only with the risk of failure that we accomplish great success.

Some of the greatest feelings I’ve ever had in my life have been during races. I still remember the ecstasy of running my first 40-minute 10K, of qualifying for the Boston Marathon, or running a five-minute mile. In each case, those accomplishments only came after failed attempts and hardships. In each case, they meant more to me because of it.

My feeling is that the joy and satisfaction of accomplishing a major goal is much greater than the pain of losing or failure, and that is the reason we persevere.

The Florida players must be on cloud nine, having reached a place no other Gator team had been. Ask any Red Sox fan about October of 2004, and they’ll tell you it was the ride of their life. In my case, I remember how great it felt to see UCLA win in 1995, and the thought of having that feeling again was what had me cheering them on during this year’s tournament.

That’s the reason we loyally follow our teams, and that’s the reason I continue to chase running-related goals. Yes, we run the risk of never accomplishing our goal or never seeing our team win a championship - but if we don’t put ourselves in the arena, we guarantee it.

So next March I’ll probably be training for the Big Sur Marathon again, and watching the NCAA Tournament. By that time, the results of this year’s tournament and race will no longer matter, and I’ll once again be optimistically focused on the possibilities ahead.

Because you never know when something magical will happen. And when it does, I want to be ready to enjoy it.

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Knock-Knock-Knockin'

In response to Matt's comment on my last post…I’m not quite in heaven yet. I would describe it more like I’m in heaven’s waiting room, sitting on the couch and waiting for the receptionist to tell me “You can go in now,” like people waiting for Donald Trump to call them into the boardroom on The Apprentice.

It’s an interesting parallel…remember season 2 of The Apprentice, when they were down to the final two contestants? Kelly Perdew (coincidently, another UCLA grad) was clearly the most qualified candidate, but he was competing against Jennifer, a really hot-looking blond who flew under the radar for several weeks before making some very strategic moves in the later rounds to end up in the finals. Nobody was really positive that Jennifer could win, but she looked so good and came on so strong that she made everybody nervous.

So let’s just say that the University of Florida is like Jennifer – a good-looking team that has played extremely well down the stretch, and makes the UCLA guys very nervous. It should be a great game on Monday.

But I won’t call it heaven unless we win the whole thing. Remember, they only hang one kind of banner in Pauley Pavilion.

On the running front, this weekend just kills me every year. Losing an hour of sleep on Saturday night is like a knife to the heart of my Sunday long run plans. I get precious little sleep on a normal night (typically less than six hours), so when I arbitrarily lose another full hour, I feel like a smoker who found out his last pack of cigarettes got soaked in the laundry - and I’m probably just as irritable.

I don’t know why I’m such a sissy about one measly hour of sleep, but it happens every time we spring forward. Next year I may as well just pencil it in on the calendar that I’ll only do about half of whatever workout I had planned for that day, then revise my weekly schedule accordingly. Of course, I’ve only been telling myself this for about five years now.

So this morning’s planned 3-hour run turned into a 1-hour run with a 4-mile time trial. My time trial was about 15 seconds slower than 2 weeks ago, but this run came at the end of a 70-mile week instead of a 50-mile week last time, so that adjustment seems about right. At least that’s what I’m telling myself, because the alternate explanation would be that I’m getting slower.

I’m still pretty confident that I’m where I want to be with my training. And I’m only looking at one more high mileage week and one more long run before it’s time to taper for Big Sur.

That’s all for now. Monday will feature a late wake-up time, an easy midday run, an early dinner, then three anxious hours in front of the TV watching the national championship game.

And if all goes well, a very happy Tuesday morning loop.

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