8 miles

Today I ran 8 miles, this was the first long run of my current training plan. Boy did it suck. On paper it should have been a pretty easy run, due to the amount I currently run each week and my body is used to that distance.

Pull on my sneakers, fill up my bottles with water and Nuun electrolytes, earphones in and podcast on. Ready …

6.25 am, the sun is beginning to turn the sky pink , as it peeks above the horizon I step outside and SLAM the humidity hits me it’s like wading through a wet shower curtain that’s wrapped itself around my body and dragging me back. I start to run.

Legs are heavy and I’m sweating like a pig, water is running down my face and oh look that’s only mile 1 completed. Shit, I’m not sure I can do this, Ana Faris is jabbering in my ear, like a chipmunk on speed and I instantly hate her wanton cheerfulness scratching my ear drums. I turn her off. That’s mile 2 completed. 6 to go…..

BOLLOCKS I’m bloody dying here.

I grind it out as it grinds me down. Legs are like “twizzlers” my face a tomato and my body is soooo wet I look like I have been swimming in the ocean as salt collects under my arms..

Mile 8 – COLLAPSE, drag body through front door and am eye to toe with my naked 3 year olds feet.. “mummy why are you on the floor,” ” because mummy is fucking dying!?”

I’m not sure I enjoyed that 95F (real feel) run. No shit Sherlock .

“Please don’t take my sunshine away.’

It hit me like a thunderbolt, out of nowhere and straight to the heart.

It was like any other Wednesday, the sun was out, (we live in Florida it’s always out) my 3 year old K3 and I had decided on a playground adventure. Water and snacks were packed and off we go. The biggest decision we had to make that day, was which playground? We had no cares in the world, we just played, up the mountain, down the slide, I even have to squish my ass down one or two, we swung, we climbed, I pushed him on the merry go round and then I was on the merry go round, both of us singing and chatting and just being, just being Mama and son.

It was only as I was helping him navigate a slightly tricky climbing wall, that it smacked me so hard in the heart, that I wanted to crumble and cry hard, really hard. WTF this is my LAST baby, my last, last baby, in 2 years he will be in Kindergarten and off like his two older brothers and we will no longer have these mornings, together, alone, carefree and chatting, being, silly and running and whooping. I will be just solitary, just me, alone, OMG SOOOOOO ALONE. While he goes to take on the world, with each amazing and powerful stride. No more, will there be those pudgy arms around my neck, or the softness of his cheek against mine, whilst he whispers how much he loves me,  with that still tangible baby smell, faint but still recognizable and soothing. There will be no more playgrounds, early morning beach dates and adventuring, no excuses for me to swing on the swings as high as I can reach, with my little buddy beside me, or marvel at a bug as it makes its way across a table, with such enthusiasm and joy, such pure, unaffected joy and interest. No excuse to roar like a dinosaur as loud as we can and skip among the puddles, to scooter fast, whooping in unison, to just sit and watch him learn to hop and be so ecstatically happy as we dance to his achievement and shout “I’m a big boy”. Who can I make up silly songs for like ……

“Thunder Thunder, your so loud,  Thunder Thunder POOM POOM POW, Thunder Thunder, please be quiet, thunder thunder, SHHHHH be silent.”

To balance along walls, push the shopping cart really fast and then surf it back to the car and laugh out loud, to share all that with and he will be gone. Disappeared, sucked in by school and spat out an adult and I am left , sitting on a swing with no excuse to be there, to swing up to the clouds, whooping in delight. I’ll have no excuse to cart surf to the car, or dance in the aisles to a song we like in the store, they would probably call security or the police and call my adult son to take me home.

I am not only seeing my kids move on in this world and becoming the awesome men  I know they will become, but I’m seeing my freedom to really be, silly old me diminishing and fading, withering and dying. What do I become? Who do I become? Do I have to go back to work full time EEKKK, Its hurtling faster than I care to  like towards me like a steam train, ready to smash me into tiny pieces. The problem is how do I put these pieces back together. My core, is silly, fun loving and childlike. Please do not tell me to be an adult, kids are just a fabulous excuse, never to be one and that is leaving me and bloody becoming one.

I cannot begin to share how much my heart hurts knowing I’ll have no more babies in my home, I love babies, toddlers, so fresh, untouched and excited by the world. Yet I am 41, I cannot have any more babies, that would be carnage to my mind and body. So, I just need to wait patiently for Grand babies and lots of them, I did not have 3 boys for nothing and I can whip out the silly grandma dance and song, Oh man I cannot wait.

Run Kelly Run!

There have always been three constant presences in my life, apart from my parents and brother of course. 1) A love of / obsession with making and eating banana bread, 2) an infatuation with “The Sound of Music” and with that comes the magnificent Julie Andrews and 3) a natural ability to run. 1 and 2 have never wavered in their prominence but 3 has.

I was a pretty decent runner as a child and was heavily involved in athletic training 2-3 times a week and then run meets on top. I did everything, from the hurdles and sprint to middle and long distance. Then at the grand old age of 10, I developed a pretty debilitating eating disorder (anorexia nervosa) and of course the running had to stop, as my body was actually eating my muscles to keep me alive and hence there was nothing left to actually run with. Sub sequentially, I was actually carried in to the local children’s hospital when I was 10 years old and left there for 4 months to vegetate. To sit on a bed and not move and there was definitely no running. Of course this quickly halted my running career and I never went back to it. I am not sure why? Maybe it was because it reminded me of a time when life was easier and achievable, light and free, not controlled and regimented (my own doing I may add). Then anorexia plunged that light into darkness and politely spat out a withered, haunted, less able version of myself. She may not have been who I really was, but I embraced her all the same with her long limbed gawkiness and not a muscle in sight. She was a safe way to look, not fat, but not dying, not muscular and manly looking, but lean and androgynous.  I still exercised, but it was mainly walking and swimming,  nothing that would require strength to be healthy or actually have muscle tone, as muscle weighs more than fat remember and weight = fatness in my warped, starved, fucked up mind. Years passed and I was happy in my sub existence and then suddenly my iron fist of control of my brain and its failings became weak and old issues gained some gusto and force and ate away at the grip I held. I was crumbling under their weight, but I needed to drive them back and become strong once more. Note; My brain lacks in serotonin and the best way to gain natural, kick you in the arse serotonin is through… ……. yes ……… exercise.

So, due to my mental struggles I discovered my body and mind needed more, it was craving to be pushed and forced away from safety and comfort, to become tired and exhausted, strengthened and liberated from its boundaries, to be crushed and rebuilt (wow now that was a dramatic sentence)

Therefore, 30 years on from pulling them off, 1 marriage and 3 kids later I am yanking on my running sneakers once more. Inspired by my ultra marathon runner husband and an innate need to push my body and earn 2 hours of quiet time, I’ve decided to sign up for a 1/2 marathon in January (baby steps) and then a 25K trail run (through the alligator infested Everglades) in February. Am I decidedly cool and inspired or fucking nuts, I’m not quite sure. As I had always vowed I would never do anything that may make me lose control of my bodily functions and really these may just do it. As in my world there is no hanging on when I need a shit, its now or a whole big mess to clear up. Now when running, I feel this could be a huge issue. So I may just have to take an enema a few hours before. People, this is a major fear of mine, so please be kind if I shit myself “Bridesmaids” style in the middle of Naples 5th Avenue, at mile 11.

My training is to be a cross train affair with 1 x 4 mile run, a yoga class, 1 swim in the week and then a long run at the weekend. Last weekend I completed 9 miles and I felt strong, it was an exhilarating feeling and actually made me cry as I never believed my body could still do this. Note this is the longest I have ever run, in my whole life and I did it alone, with my only company being a blog about cake baking. Did you know that before bicarbonate of soda and baking powder, that a cook may of had to beat eggs for 2 hours to get the same leavening effect. Now that is a a lot of beating by hand 🙂 The continuous pounding of my feet on the road, the slight discomfort of my knees, the ability to calm my breath and regulate it (I have anxiety) into rhythmic, steady breaths was empowering (I do hate this word, its kind of new age wanky), it settled me and pushed me into a space of meditation. Which I find I can never do sitting still with my eyes shut. I was alone, so I could notice the little things and sights, small details were prominent as manicured shrubbery and well built houses bobbed past to the steady pounding of my feet.

One hour and 30 minutes passed and I was sad to stop, the personal achievement overwhelmed me, yes I know its only 9 miles, but that is 9 miles, I never thought I could do. I must admit the amount of calories I burnt appealed to my suppressed anorexic self, the serotonin pumping through me sated the bitch I call anxiety, she is always looming with intent, my muscles were soft, stretched and fluid, when they are usually tightly wound and stiff. I felt good, my body beaten, but my mind rested and I remember my childhood, the need for this, my love of this and the sadness of those lost 30 years. I’ve felt so happy and calm and rested and driven. I am emerging from the years I left my self to fallow, curled up in my shell, protecting myself, scared to push the boundaries and crack that shell. A 10 yr old Kelly Dixon is in there, she is ready to come out and show you who she really was then and really is now in her older 40 year old form. She is no longer frightened or controlled, but open, raw and ready to just be. Not frightened or ashamed of who she is, the kooky, weird kid and now the kooky, weird adult. But you know what? I have missed her, she is resilient, sharp, honest and kind and I am proud of her. She will continue to run and run and push and finally break down everything she has built and reveal her vulnerable core, still 10 and waiting to truly live.

Next I will run 11 miles and then 13 and then who knows maybe I will double that – I had better buy some diapers 🙂

Some serious adulting.

The words parent and adulting or parent and tequila, cocktails and Prosecco should NEVER EVER be uttered in sequence in the same sentence, like ever. Therefore, one must assume that being a parent and pouring the above cocktail down your throat over a period of several hours is the stupidest thing I have ever done… STOP, you there, parent of three rambunctious tiny men, do not partake in the consumption of adult libations. ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY? Yup, yes I am, and the shameful thing is, that through out the course of my currently 8 year mothering phase, I have repeated this mistake a good few times. Each time I want to grab, happy, dancing, drunk, mama off the party train and make that train reverse back over her several time, just too remind that mad bitch lurking inside her… THAT……





HER PARENTS DO NOT LIVE IN THIS COUNTRY (no last minute babysitting request for you, you dumb ass, light weight)


YOU ARE A BLOODY MOTHER OF THREE (we never sleep in, we are always running amok and hollering as LOUD as we can, whilst being extremely needy and totally incapable of leaving you alone, while you die in the darkness, under your duvet) BOYS.


The big kid, grown up, party in the city was oh so fun, we danced, we drunk cocktails, we danced, we did shots, we danced and we laughed, we went to bed at 2.30 am (gasp, I have only ever seen that time to administer love and attention to a small frightened, occasionally vomiting child), after a tactical vomit, I realize life has just been far too much fun this evening for said, naughty, insensible parent.

However, as the sun blossoms searingly over the horizon. I’m peeling apart my mascara caked eyes, shifting my aching, dancing legs and blearily peeking in to the bath room mirror. I sigh, as I look upon a, not so beautiful now, aging parent, who is hungover and is now painfully regretting her (this mama, does not party often) excitement of last night. The head ache BOOMS, the stomach churns and the room is a little hazy.  Flopping back on to the warm bed, staring at the oh so quiet ceiling, I know that a mere, 12 painfully loud, busy, unending hours separate me from resuming this position and getting to shut my throbbing eyes once more.

Survival mode kicks in. 30 minute run (kill or cure time), Bagel, Coffee, Tylenol, sunglasses and a shower. Provide each child with own I pad, and a family sized pack of Cheerios. Another parent fail (I currently do not give a flying F) I let them melt their brains, just so you know they will leave you well alone.

Remember to repeat as needed and chant the words “NEVER AGAIN”.

Well, until next time 😉

When nature calls!?!

For pure amusement. I would like to share the following.

Today, I had to change a tampon at 11000 feet, in 14mph wind and at 32F…. 

Bare bottom, chilly lady bits, trying to ram as fast as I can offensive tampon in bag, without falling off a mountain and not losing all feeling to my fingers, as I had to remove my ski gloves. 

Being a woman is not easy I tell ya 😂🙌🏻😘