hot (sweaty) mamas giveaway

I had a wonderful time at the book launch for Hot (Sweaty) Mamas on Saturday night. What could be better than helping friends (and a former student!) celebrate publication? But the next day I started coming down with strep throat, and between that and all my teaching and editing, I haven't been able to post about the fact I actually have a copy of Hot (Sweaty) Mamas to give away. I received an additional copy from Andrews McMeel last week, so now I can share with one of you, my wonderful writerly motherly runnerly readers (and of course you need not be all three). 


So, please leave a comment below by Monday, April 18, and I'll randomly pick a winner. In your comment, I'm interested on how you balance health and motherhood or health and life. Have you found something that works to get your "me" time?

hot (sweaty) mamas!

I never set out to be a runner. Sure, I ran cross country in high school, but most of the time I hated it. I tried to trip myself during races when the exhaustion became unbearable, and my friends and I often took short cuts on long practice runs. We hid in the bushes or ran to Burger King for French fries while the rest of our team trudged through six miles. (How we got away with this, I have no idea.) In those years, I didn’t consider myself a runner, and when I stopped running after high school, I didn’t miss it.

Fifteen years later, when Stella turned one and I still hadn’t lost my pregnancy weight, I started running again. I didn’t particularly enjoy it. It felt like work—hard work. But when a friend encouraged me to try a half-marathon, and I began running serious distances, a surprising thing happened: the more I ran, the more I liked to run.

I lost a little weight and was able to wear clothes I hadn’t fit into for years, which was nice, but running also made me feel more grounded and less frazzled. There was something in the rhythm of my gait that loosened my mind and allowed me to forgive the Tinker Toys and Little People scattered around our living room. I breathed deeply, and by the time I got home, I felt revived, which gave me the energy and inclination to help guide Stella’s little hands as she assembled her farm puzzle for the gazillionth time in a row. I smiled and cheered for her when she found the right home for the cow and the barn and the tractor and the chicken.

Motherhood made me a runner. And running made me a better mother.

Fast forward a few years: I have run the Twin Cities 10 mile and Grandma’s ½ Marathon. I could spend hours looping the bridges along the river roads in Minneapolis and St. Paul. I love running now more than ever and still consider myself a runner even though injuries have kept me from running most of the last year.

And this still holds true: running makes me a better mother and motherhood makes me a better runner.

One of the things I love most about being a runner is that it helped me become the kind of role model I want to be for my daughters. When they see me take the time to lace up my running shoes and head out the door, I am not only making exercise a priority in my life, I’m helping them see it as a priority in their lives, as well.

But being fit and staying fit when you are juggling work and kids and volunteering and family obligations isn’t easy. (And now that I can’t run, it’s even harder to find time to get to the gym or to find the space and quiet I need at home to do a pilates video.)

That’s why I’m so excited about Hot (Sweaty) Mamas: Five Secrets to Life as a Fit Mom by Kara Douglass Thom and Laurie Lethert Kocanda. This is not a get-thin book, not an over-the-top fitness book. Hot (Sweaty) Mamas will help any busy mom figure out how fitness can fit into her life and into her family’s life. From prioritizing fitness, helping moms to take much needed “me” time, to how to develop a support network for your fitness goals, Thom and Kocanda take a no-nonsense approach to fitness and family. They are funny, engaging and practical without being preachy or patronizing. For any mother who is fit or wants to be, this book is a must-read.

Come celebrate fitness and motherhood and the publication of Hot (Sweaty) Mamas on Saturday, April 9^th at the Herb Box, inside Eden Prairie Life Time Athletic from 4 – 7 p.m. It’s free and open to the public. Come have some refreshments, buy a book, and hang out with other hot sweaty mamas. (And bring your kids, too!)

Where: 755 Prairie Center Drive, Eden Prairie, MN 

When:  4 -7 p.m., Saturday, April 9

And to learn more about Hot (Sweaty) Mamas, visit their website!

a few things

I feel as though I’ve spent so much of the summer juggling and fretting that I’ve forgotten to enjoy these last months. I have been snappier with my girls, who are both in high-parental-involvement stages—Zoë is potty training and fully embracing all of the defiance inherent in being a two-year-old; and Stella is suspended somewhere between a little girl and a big girl, a transition that makes her moody and sensitive. One moment she’s totally fine, the next she’s furious, in tears, and yelling, “I’m just so frustrated, Mom! I hate you!” (That’s my favorite.)

But as is always the case, I feel much better if I take a moment and list all of the things in my life for which I’m grateful. So here is my list.

I’m grateful for:

• the way Stella purses her lips in concentration when she’s working on a new craft. (She can sit for over an hour and make a friendship bracelet or a beaded ornament.)

• the way Zoë whips off all her clothes a dozen times a day, then shouts, “I’m naked! I’m naked!” as she shakes it around the room.

• Stella’s pride as she heads down the sidewalk on her new skateboard, with more grace and balance that I’ve ever had. (Seriously, the girl has mad skills. She could be a serious surfer if she put her mind to it—and if we lived somewhere that wasn’t landlocked.)

• the way Zoë packs up all her plastic fruit and vegetables in a bag and announces she’s going to work at the “shoppy cop” (coffee shop).

• that I can run again. (I’ve spent hours this summer in the chiropractor’s office and it wasn’t helping—or helped a little and then stopped helping—and finally last week I started taking those little packets of EmergenC of all things, and my hip and leg feel so much better. Electrolytes! Magnesium! Selenium! Potassium! I could have run for an hour the other day.)

• D.—I have to give the guy a shout out not only for his surprising garage-building skills but also because he’s my biggest supporter, arranging his schedule so I can finish my revision by Sept. 1

• Led Zeppelin—Okay, I’ll admit this is a little strange. But can I tell you how much I’ve loved rediscovering those guys this summer? There is nothing like running down a country road in Northern MN; open pastures on either side of me, a cloudless sky above me, and “Ramble On” blaring on my IPod. (Who am I? No idea, no idea. I’m just going with it.)

• My parents, who have spent even more time with the girls than usual so I can log in as many hours at my computer as possible. I know it can be exhausting, but they keep offering. They keep showing up, and I’m so grateful for them.

• My kick-ass friends, both in person and virtual. I so appreciate that you’re always close by, always listening, always ready to make me laugh. Thank you!

I’d love to hear what you’re grateful for. Leave a list in the comment field or link to your own post. And thank you, as always, for reading.

june storms and revision

We’ve had lots of stormy weather in the last few weeks. My sleep has been interrupted with flashes of lightening, cracking thunder, and rain slapping against the windows. The days have been heavy, the air dense and oppressive.

Is it the weather that puts me into a funk? Or all the freelance work I’ve been juggling? Or the problem with my hip and IT band that’s keeping me from running? All of above? Not running definitely affects my moods; I’m less patient and less productive.

D has been home with the girls for a couple of weeks now, so technically I should have plenty of work time, but we’re still muddling through our new schedules and roles. (Me going off to work at the coffee shop every morning while he plans what activities he and the girls will take on: zoo, children’s museum, bike ride to a local lake or park.) Maybe my funk is due in part to the fact that I’ve been feeling a little lonely for my girls and my role as their primary care giver. (Daddy is now the one who is requested more often for bedtime reading, and, well, just about everything else: “I want Daddy to change my diaper!” “No, Daddy wash my hands!” “Daddy do it!”)

But I’m ready to shake off the funk. I’ve caught up on my freelance work and I have the coming week off from teaching. So I’m ready to dive back into the revision of my memoir. (How many times have you heard me say that over the last year and a half? Too many, I’m sure.) But this time I’m serious. I have about 100 pages of the rewrite left, and I need to finish it by mid-August.

This means twenty pages a week. Four pages a day if I write five days a week. That’s a lot for me, but I think I can pull it off. Especially since I already wrote the book once (or twice or three times)?

I remember that the last time I met with my lovely MFA thesis advisor before I graduated she said that by the time I was finished with my memoir, really finished with it (and at the time I had no idea how long this process would take), I would be so sick of it that I’d want to throw the manuscript across the room. I’m actually not sick of the material yet (or at least I’m not sick of it right now, probably because I’m doing so much new writing in this draft that the material still feels fresh.) I am, however, sick of “working on the memoir,” the same memoir I’ve been working on for six years.

I’m ready to move on to the next project, which might be another memoir or might turn out to be a novel. I’m ready to have that buzzing excitement, those months of playing with words and wondering where the story will lead me, what the real story is.

But in order to get to that place, I need to sit down at my computer day after day and finish what’s on my plate. And I’m ready. I hope.

for the running mamas

I spent last weekend at my mom’s cabin in northern Minnesota with my family, and it was just what I needed. The weather was gorgeous on Saturday (think mid-July heat and sun), so I decided I’d take a day and not work at all. (I clearly have an unhealthy relationship with my computer if it’s that remarkable that I didn’t open it for one day.)

Instead of work, I went for a too-long run around the lake (on a combination of country roads and small highways) without any water. That wasn’t such a good idea, but I did end up making it back to the cabin without passing out. Then I ate a big lunch and collapsed into bed for a wakeful sort of nap. Then there was the pontoon ride and white wine and my brother-in-law’s ribs on the grill. The kids were outside for 12 straight hours. It was perfect.

And this week I’m excited to post about a new book for mother runners by Dimity McDowell and Sarah Bowen Shea. Run Like a Mother contains alternating essays by McDowell and Bowen Shea that detail what it’s like to be a mother runner. They offer encouragement, practical tips, and basically make it seem possible to get yourself up and out the door for an early-morning run even when you feel sleep deprived and over-extended. I especially like that they make this seem possible even for those of us who aren’t hardcore marathoners (which of course you know I’m not.)

But while I’m not signing up for a marathon anytime soon, I am ready for a 5K, and that’s what I’ll be doing on Saturday morning. Dimity will be in the Twin Cities promoting Run Like a Mother this week and she'll be doing a number of readings and fun runs.

Thursday, June 3, she’ll be reading at The Bookcase in Wayzata at 7 p.m. On Friday morning she’ll lead a 5K fun run followed by a short reading at Title Nine in Edina. On Friday night at 7:30, she’ll be reading at Magers & Quinn Booksellers in Minneapolis, and on Saturday morning, June 5, she’ll lead a 5K around Lake Calhoun from the Running Room at 9 a.m. Strollers and walkers are welcome on the runs, and apparently there will be lots of prizes at the end!

So if you’re a local mama runner (or if you want to be a mama runner, but need a little motivation), come to the Running Room on Saturday morning. I’ll be there plodding along in my slow, happy way.

ignoring the signs

I’m at the coffee shop (my “office”) for the first time in a couple of weeks, and it feels good to be back. Most of the creative work I’ve done over the last seven years has been done here, sitting at one of these red tables.

I hadn’t been consciously staying away. I seemed to have overbooked myself with mid-day appointments and teaching commitments. And with only two hours in the morning, I had been choosing to run instead of write. I don’t usually do that, but there was something about the almost-instant gratification of running that I needed.

If I run four or five days a week, very soon I begin to look and feel different. (Writing, on the other hand, more often fits in the very-delayed-and-maybe-never gratification category.)

But even though I don’t always get the results I want when I write, being away from my writing always makes me realize that I do need to write. When I step away, even for a few weeks, I begin to feel lost, unmoored. I am easily irritated and easily discouraged. And it affects my mothering: I’m less patient and more frustrated with my girls. I begin to question whether I’m even a good mother.

It’s true that sometimes when I take a break from my memoir, I return excited to dive into it. (I’m ready now.) And, of course, it’s not as if I haven’t been thinking about it. Those long runs give me a perspective on my narrative that I would be missing otherwise. But that perspective will be lost if I don’t actually sit down and do the work I need to do.


A couple of weeks ago, Teri, one of my coffee shop friends and a fellow writer, handed me Ann Patchett’s What Now?, a thin book containing the commencement speech Patchett delivered to Sarah Lawrence graduates a few years ago.

“I think you should read this, Kate,” she said.

I almost declined the offer because there are a dozen or more books on my to-read list. My stack threatens to topple across my cluttered desk if I sneeze too forcefully.

But then Teri said, “No really. I don’t need it back anytime soon, and it’s a fast read.”

I slipped the book into my bag, and when I got home, I put it on my precarious tower.

I hadn’t planned on reading it anytime soon. But on Saturday afternoon, after teaching a short memoir class at a local library, getting Zoë down for her nap, and turning on Benji for Stella, I just didn’t feel like editing or planning my upcoming class. A rumbling thunderstorm had just passed over the Twin Cities, and the sky was still close and oppressive, the air heavy. I was tired.

When I saw Patchett’s book on the stack in my office, I thought, perfect. I grabbed it and cuddled up to Stella, who explained who the “mean guy” in the movie was and why Benji was trying to escape him. It seemed like a complicated plot for a kids’ movie, but I guess that’s how we rolled in the ‘70s.

I alternated between Benji and Patchett, which, oddly, worked. Nothing like the encouragement of a commencement speech alongside plaid dress pants, bowl cuts, and seriously dated cinematography. And that ‘70s chase music. What could be better?

And just as Teri promised, What Now? is a quick read. (I finished it before the mean guy was arrested and Benji was safely reunited with his family.)

One of my favorite lines in the book is this: “I learned the most from sticking with my dream even when all signs told me it was time to let go.”

In the last year, I’ve had more than a few signs telling me it might be time to let go of writing and get a “real job.” And a couple of times I even searched local job boards and inquired about openings. But I knew I wasn’t ready to give up writing yet. And how I felt when I was away from my revision even two weeks makes me realize that I need to stick with this dream. Because of course it’s more than a dream; it’s who I am.

sunshine, running and rejection

I spent last week checking things off my to-do list. The days were rainy and cold, so I put my head down and tried to work as much as possible. It wasn’t creative work, but it needed to be done. This kind of productivity usually buoys me, but the weather and the disappointments inherent in a writer’s life were working against me, and I felt myself slipping.

I always tell my writing students to keep going, to never give up. You must sit down at your desk and do your work. You write through the rejection and through the disappointment. And because this is the advice I dole out, I know I must follow it, as well. And I do. I show up. I sit down at my desk. I wrestle with my prose. I send my work out. I file away my rejection letters. But sometimes I feel so tired of it all.

Then yesterday morning, as Stella climbed into our bed and settled into my arms, our bedroom brightened with sunlight. Our walls began to glow, and for the first time in days, I felt hopeful. I dropped the girls at daycare and school and went to my book group, which never fails to lift my spirits, and then I went for a run along the river, iPod blaring. By the time I returned home, I was high on endorphins. Perhaps there will be something wonderful in my inbox?

There wasn’t something wonderful in my inbox. There was another rejection waiting for me when I logged in.

Sometimes it’s even harder to get a rejection when I’m feeling hopeful, when I’m buzzing on a post-run high. A few simple lines can destroy the results of my recent mood-enhancing activities. The sun was still shining, yes. But it didn’t even matter.

It’s another gorgeous day today. I’ll go for a run this morning, and later the girls and D and I will head over to our local Art-A-Whirl. I’ll “have fun!” and “Be cheerful!” Maybe I’ll even be able to stopping thinking about writing for a day.

And the good news is that it’s Saturday—I’ve never been rejected on a Saturday.