Spring has sprung

Spring has sprung and I have started running again, but this is not what today’s entry is about. I just wanted to show off by saying that I have been running again, it’s a big deal for me. I did it by my own free will, without new running shoes, a fancy new pair of tights; I did not even have a new playlist on my Ipod! So it was quite a hurdle…

Back to the spring. With the lovely weather our intentions were to spend last weekend outside, and on Saturday we went walking on the paths in the hills of Drammen together with Little J and his parents.

The excursion had been planned for days and the back-packs were full of goodies. We had chocolate bars, hot chocolate, waffles with jam and with cheese, watermelon, oranges, grapes, bananas and juice, water and ice coffee to drink. I am sure we had more edible stuff, but that was as far down in our bags as we got.

Inexperienced as I am (in all ways of being a mummy), Little H was dressed to sit in her pram and look cool. She wore brown funky trousers (Pappa Kas always sings MC Hammer when he sees them), and a white woolly cardigan. On her feet she had leather soled socks. Well, the hat was on and I had put sun cream in her face so all was not bad. Had forgotten her sunglasses though... Can't remember everything.

We walked along the snow-free paths and found a playground / outdoors nursery complete with a sand box and swings. Little J jumped into the sandbox dressed in his appropriate waterproof all-in-one suit and Gore-Tex boots. What could I do? Little H was whining in her pram desperately trying to free herself from the straps keeping her from the mud and sand.

I said “ehrmm well, Little H does not really have the appropriate clothes on does she?”, while I lifted MC H. Junior down and into the wet sandbox, trying to place her on a wollen blanket I had brought, hoping she would sit still for a little bit. Nope, she wanted to walk, to crawl, to steal Little J’s shovel, to eat sand and all other activities that her mother should have foreseen a little girl of ten months would want to do…

“ I guess I need to get Little H one of those suits if she is going to play outside now during spring” I said and little J’s mum replied: “I never put on him anything else, could not be outside playing without such a suit this time of year”.

I took Little H, with her before so “funky” outfit now full of sand and dirt, under my arm and went to eat waffles on the bench where no specific outfit was needed.

Who's having the most fun?

Ready, steady, go!

After not making any New Year resolutions - not deciding to lose weight, or get in shape or read less glossy magazines I feel strangely un- achieving. Or to be brutally honest: I have become a lazy slob.

Pappa Kas has taken our loss of youth and elasticity seriously and is now out on his cross-country skis twice a week, while I work on leaving my bum-print permanently on the sofa. This week, before I achieved a moment of sanity during a girly lunch today, I have eaten my way through a whole duty-free (MEGA) sized bag of sour sweets. This has been justified by saying to myself that I am only eating the sweeties to finish the bag so that I can start dieting… I could just have thrown them in the bin, but I do not throw away food unless fouls smelling and/ or walking by itself –ehrmmm…

So today I started the RunKeeper on my Ipod (first time since end of October), and power-walked down to me and Little H’s lunch date. We walked an extra long route just to build our appetite. Our appetite? Little H was snoring happily in the pram, and not moving a muscle to help her mum push through the 10cm deep snow on the pavements.

But here’s the dilemma. Power walking and pushing the pram through snow makes you sweaty. Going to meet other mummies, I was obviously not wearing tracksuit bottoms and hiking boots (walk of shame), rather mid-calf boots, skinny jeans and a black knitted sweater under a thick parka.

On my way I met another mummy who came in the opposite direction. She was walking so fast that I did not manage to observe her for very long, but what I saw was a super-fit-kick-ass mummy. She came towards me at the speed of a moped wearing gore-tex trainers, black running tights, black and red cross-country mesh and nylon jacket, topped off with a multifunctional hat with sponsor logos on it. All color coordinated of course and matching the pram. She smiled smugly while passing. What the F****?

I thought I had cracked the code for maternity leave yummieness with the jeans, the tinted moisturizer and the earrings. When did the code change? Probably when 2010 became 2011 and all the yummies made their super healthy resolutions while I was busy gulping down Rioja.

Well, let the battle begin! Today I have walked almost 8 kilometers, half of them uphill, and half in snow reaching up to, if not my ankles, then very close. And tomorrow I am going shopping for that super-fit mummy outfit, hat included.

Born to run

Several years ago when I had just started running a good friend and fellow runner said to me: “Trude, you were born to run (as in the jogging way)”.
I had just started my new fitness craze, initiated by having no money for a gym membership together with the desperate need for some exercise. Running was also becoming increasingly popular by some of my gym  buddies, and I was eager to ripe the benefits: toned legs, weight loss, fresh air which would benefit my skin bla bla bla.

In the beginning it could not be called running, more like jogging at the speed of a turtle, but being convinced I was born to run, I hung in there. It was hard.


Now I am pretty much in the same situation. Trying to get back in shape after the birth of Little H, not really having time to join a gym, running is practical. There are plenty of good tracks here in the area and I hope to be back in shape in a month or two…


The goal is to run the Killer Hill in front of my house by the 30th of August. That hill is so steep and long that they recently used it for a Norwegian championship in longboard ( http://no.wikipedia.org/wiki/Longboard). Last Saturday morning I came about 1/5 up. It really is a long hill to conquer- I promise.

My motivation is helped by having cheesy and embarrassing tracks on my Ipod and I am trying to time the runs so that when the killer hill comes, the track is of course by Bruce Springsteen- as you know I AM born to run.

Trude