thirty-three

the joke goes that my ears are folded because while we were in the womb, claudin was sitting on my head and squished them flat. but it's not true. we born feet to feet, which means we actually spent those nine months curled up like a vertically inverted mirror image - the physical manifestation of yin and yang.

when we were born, claudin came out head first and nose down, yielding to natural forces but with a certainty that made no hesitation. yin. eight minutes later, i came out feet first and sunny-side up, tenaciously but with a bit more effort. yang. 

births are auspicious events, they are very telling. claudin lives her life much in the same way she entered the world, impulsively and with conviction. she has heart, passion, is alluring, and incredibly generous. things don't come as naturally to me and i usually have to work harder at them, which has made me a pragmatic romantic (is that a thing?). my actions more deliberate, but hopefully thoughtful and understanding too. just like the taijitu sign that is composed of a dark half with a white dot and a light half with a black dot though, claudin and i have marks each other's traits.

yin yang.

the term usually implies contradiction, but it is actually more about compliments. claudin and i are not opposites - water and fire, earth and sky, dark and light - we are at once both of those things and none of them. we are interdependent and to know one of us is to understand the other. our relationship is dynamic in that way, one gives rise to the other. like our names: C-L-A-U-D-I-N and L-U-C-I-N-D-A. composed of the same letters, but arranged in a way that gives each her own unique sound.

so here it is (because i've been working really hard to set this up for the perfect cliche): happy birthday claudin, you are the yin to my yang.

minnesota twins

it's been almost two weeks since claudin and i were in minnesota for our annual "twin trip" and i've had this post drafted for days, but the fourth of july + the slow death of my computer put a wrench in the works. i mean, a beautiful weekend spent with family and friends is one thing {and you can't just SKIP america's favorite holiday so i HAD to blog about that first}, but a computer on the fritz is another. anyway. minnesota, finally!

we stayed in duluth three days and never got to see lake superior while we were there - not even after running 26.2 miles down its coast. the fog remained tightly drawn like a misty curtain over the length of its banks and only the distant sounds of water lapping gave any kind of hint to the great lake that extended beyond. but what the seaport town lacked in idyllic seaportness that weekend, it made up for with the architechtual charm of its historic downtown.

the main street is decked out in herringbone brickwork and accessorized with streetlamps, which really suites the handsome turn-of-century buildings that line it, if i do say so myself. we strolled the kinks out of our marathon-pounded muscles, going from one end of town to the other, taking pictures and stopping in locally owned shops along the way. touring duluth was like the best post-race recovery in disguise. and not that the town wasn't captivating enough with it's dapper charisma, but after a few days, we drove down to the twin cities for the next leg of our trip.



it was decidedly summer when we arrived in saint paul {with blue skies and all!}, only not in the muggy- northestern kind of way, but the mild-midwestern kind of way. we checked in at our airbnb, which was an 1880s victorian on the outside and stylistically scandinavian on the inside. there were bright ferns hanging on the front porch and twinklelights strung in the patio. there were succulents on the windowsills and stacks of vinyls in the music room. it was bright and modern, with an integrity that would make the designers at ikea proud. since there was all kinds of daylight left after we unpacked, claudin and i walked the mile downtown to grab some pizza and raise our glasses to "vacation".



doesn't it just FEEL sweedish?



we spent the next few days riding around on bikes, going from one restaurant or cafe to the next, eating small amounts at each, and stopping at shops in between. there's no better way to get to know a place than by eating your way through wandering it. better yet is getting lost a few times and finding those hidden jems yelp doesn't tell you about. but with nothing on the agenda, it was all good. so we took our time lingering over empty plates and dregs of coffee, enjoying uninterrupted conversation. and even though our arms were relieved to be free of twenty-pound koala-babies, we carried thoughts of those sweet little ones into every children's bookstore or clothing boutique we saw. 



bike share programs may scream "tourist" but, who really cares when you look this cute cruisin' around.



the copper hen was as beautiful as it was delicious. we shared a cheese board and took cookies that were as big as our faces to go.

spending the afternoon doing some "coffee shop research"  

ok, so we did have one thing scheduled during our stay in the twin cities and that was a day at the salon. oh, the demands!  i booked us appointments at honeycomb, which came highly recommended by yelp and that i can now attest to. it was a bright space, thoughtfully curated with minnesota-made products and run by an awesome group of women. i enjoyed talking with my stylist - who was also the owner - about opening and running a successful business, taking loads of mental notes the whole time.

then, two hours and a combined four inches of hair shorter, claudin and i biked alllllll the way back to our airbnb.it was almost another entire marathon we covered biking from minneapolis to st paul, but after getting "turned around" a couple of times, we probably logged closer to thirty miles that day. at least we got see spectacular views of the mighty mississippi, even if it was ten o'clock at night and already dark. did i mention that minnesota has the most impressive {and safe and very well-lit} bike system in probably the entire country? well it does and hopefully that puts any fears to rest.

refueling at grand ole creamery 

plus, we never would've got to catch this sight of the cathedral of st paul at night

this vacation was totally indulgent {as they should be, no?} aside from the race, there we no responsibilities or obligations. we stayed up late, we watched movies, we citied-around, and ate our weights worth in great food. the days were so packed that it almost kept my mind distracted from how badly i missed august. when i got home though and got to see those shaky legs take two tentative steps, with arms out for balance and mouth open in concentration, it was like the fun was just getting started. it's pretty great when coming home is just as good as going on vacation.

first post-baby race recap

that's me on the left and my twinner on the right

days later and i'm still gimping around from sunday's cherry blossom ten mile run. my time was nearly five minutes slower than my personal best and i almost dropped out halfway through, but man! it was great to race again.

when claudin called a couple of weeks ago to tell me that she had been accepted as an elite entrant for this year's running i was all, "yeay! that's awesome! go you!" but then she was like, "no, you've got to do it with me." and then i was like "mmm, yeahhhh... i don't know about that."

the cherry blossom ten miler is one of the biggest road races in the country and it was selected to host this year's US 10 mile championships, so in addition to the perennially strong international field, some of the nation's top distance runners would be in the mix. not only did i think that i had no business toeing the line with such high-caliber athletes, but when i planned my first race back from pregnancy, i had envisioned a more low-profile event. regardless, claudin urged me to contact the organizers to see if there were any more open spots. so i left the final decision to chance and in the hands of mr. race director. 

wouldn't you know it, i got in.

claudin arrived friday afternoon before the event and we spent saturday getting all the pre-race logistics in order. we checked in at hospitality suite, picked up our packets, ate the customary pasta dinner, and called it an early night. claudin was without her kids for the first time in years and andy was on baby-duty, so we nestled into bed and slept more soundly than either of had in months. as far as i was concerned, we were already winning.

the alarm went off at 4:30am on sunday morning and i wanted to hurl it at the wall (we're never using your ancient cell phone with it's devil ringer again, claudi). after lying a few minutes in bed until my heart rate returned to normal, i joined claudin in getting ready and twenty minutes later we were driving down the quite dark roads into DC.once on site, we dropped our things off and camped out in a tent that was designated for the invited athletes.

claudin and i warmed up around the national mall, while the day dawned around us. the sky was magnificently color-blocked with a soft orange on the horizon and a rich indigo overhead. the capital building sat against that stunning backdrop at one end of the mall and the washington monument was glowing in the light at the opposite end. everyone was pulling out their phones for pictures and once again, i cursed claudin's "dumb" phone for not having a camera. i don't know what made me more anxious: getting through the port-a-jon line before the race start or not being able to capture the photo.

the elite women were escorted to the line around 7:10am and we all took our final strides while the announcer introduced the field. when the bull horn sounded ten minutes later, i was running with this group of speedy women and heading towards memorial bridge like i hadn't missed the last year and a half of competing. the first mile of a race is always misleading. your body is fresh, pumping with adrenaline, and just steps ahead are some of the fastest women in the world. no big deal. for a minute you even think, hey! i might be in better shape, after all. this feels easy! but luckily, i wasn't *that* far removed from the sport so i knew to back off. claudin and i settled in at the back of a small pack of about six women who were running at our goal pace.

the next four miles went just as i hoped: claudin and i were running stride-for-stride at a comfortably hard pace, occasionally exchanging a few words of encouragement. as we approached mile five though, i sensed that while claudin was in cruise control, my foot was heavy on the gas trying to keep up. then, i started to feel a burn in my right quad/IT band. crap! we're not even half-way yet. it was too early for my body to be breaking down, so i knew that i was probably going too hard too soon. "go ahead, i don't want to hold you back" i told her. "no" she said and pointed to the ground at her side, indicating that i should get up next to her. i made the effort to catch up, but my wheels began smoking and the warning light came on. "if i don't back off now, i might not be able to finish" i told her and with that, claudin understood. she dropped me like i wasn't moving and left me alone in no-man's land.

we were entering haines point, an isolated peninsula where the only company was a bunch of demons hitchhiking on the side of the road. feeling lonely, i picked a few up, but those pesky hitchhikers were lousy companions. they kept talking about the pain in my quad and about how i haven't been training hard enough and how there were still five miles left to go. so after about a half mile of that nonsense, i decided that was about as far as i'd take them. without slowing down, i opened the door and kicked them out. when the next mile marker came up, i checked my watch and was surprised to see i was still on pace. if my body was holding on despite feeling so crappy, then the doubt was obviously all in my head.

i rallied my best survival tactics and coached myself into a more positive mind set. one thing that always works for me in these longer distances is breaking the race down into smaller parts - one mile is pretty easy to wrap your head around - so instead of thinking about the ten miles i had to cover, i focused on the one ahead. i looked for the runners in front of me and as it turned out,  i wasn't the only one hurting. there were a couple of women who had also fallen off the group. i set my my sights on their backs and gradually ran them down, one at a time. as i moved my way up, i noticed that there was just one woman between claudin and i.

with a mile left to go, i found myself on the heels of the next runner and less than 100 meters behind claudin. i passed the woman in front with ease but was nervous about her finishing kick, so to be safe, i pushed a little harder to create a buffer. despite my move, the distance between claudin and i remained the same. i lost sight of her around the final turn and instead noticed a particular couple on the sidelines that caught my eye: a handsome bearded man, holding an equally stunning little boy. "there's mama! go luci!"

it was with those two guys in mind (and the very real fact that if i didn't keep moving, my quads would shut down) that i bee-lined it to the finish and right through the line, like forrest gump running past the end zone. i clocked in at 1:01:06 and placed 39th. without ever stopping, i went straight to august and holding him my arms, paraded him around like i won top honors.

for the record:
+ my cellphone isn't any "smarter" than claudin's but the battery was dead that morning
+ claudin finished 20 seconds and one spot ahead of me. she's clearly at a new level since her 5th place finish at the marine corps marathon and i'm excited for her to run even faster in her next one!
+ there were two other new moms who put my performance to shame with how fast they blazed: sara slattery finished 14th in 54:14, while megan wright was 22nd in 56:51.  both have one-year-old boys.
+ my good friend and old high school teammate, chris sloane, also ran super fast and PRd by a minute.
+ after the race, claudin and i split a large pizza and each HOUSED a double concrete from the shake shack WHAT! (that one was for both of you, ne and nick mangum)
+  the cherry blossoms hadn't even budded but they're reported to be at their peak between april 8-12. but SHHHH don't tell anyone until after i've taken my pictures and left this coming saturday

32

ah, "the twins in baba’s makeup" - a classic family photo. we scared the bejesus out of our parents with this one. at first glance, they mistook my grandmother's smudged lipstick for blood but the lack of tears and my deer-in-headlights look gave it away. once they realized we were fine, i imagine my mother told us to hold still and snapped this shot as we sat bewildered thinking, what? we didn’t do anything.

i think every family has pictures like this – iconic photos that tell an outrageous story and encapsulate an era. this one, circa 1984, sums up me and my sister during our toddler years: mischievous.  my dad used to say that we needed to go to school just so we could get civilized. when my mom would take us shopping with her, we’d hide between the racks of clothing while she browsed. it’d be an epic hunt to find us and when she finally spotted our little feet poking out from the hems of dozens of dresses, she’d whisper-shout, “there you are, sin verguenzas!” then, we’d start giggling in hysterics and take off from out of our hiding place in opposite directions. 

today we turn thirty-two and we haven’t grown up - we still haven’t figured out how to wear rouge like real women and we’re still driving our families’ nuts with our shenanigans. happy birthday claudi, i couldn’t have asked for a better partner-in-crime. 

No, I'm the Other One

If you didn't already know it, I'm a twin. A fraternal twin, to be exact. Though I've experienced quite a bit of skepticism from people when I make the distinction because my sister and I look so much alike. There are subtle differences though. Claudin has a slightly rounder face, while mine is more oval-shaped; her height and shoes size are just a tad bigger; and she wears the color red WAY better than I do. It's tricky for people who first meet us to pick up on those subtleties, but for those who have known us for a while, the differences are gaping.

When we were little, the distinctions were less obvious because we were often dressed in the same outfits and had matching hair cuts. Unless you knew what color my mother had dressed us in, it was a guessing game as to which twin was which. Our nanny relied on the "color coding" because otherwise she had to ask us for a clue; a tenuous request of any toddler, much less two mischievous twins. "Qual eres?" Which one are you? She would ask and I would respond with, "Yo soy la otra!" I'm the other one! 

Looking back on old photos, even I need a minute or two point out which is which. Growing up we unintentionally mixed people up so much that a couple of times I questioned my own identity. If others couldn't keep us straight, then how could we be sure that Claudin and I weren't mixed up and switched at some point? My older sister (pictured below) cruelly preyed on my plight. She'd tell us that we were swapped at birth and that I was actually Claudin but had been living a life of lies as Lucinda. Boom. A bona fide existential crisis at the age of five.

My mother always knew the difference. I guess she did birth us. But even then, she had an uncanny ability to tell us apart. In fact, we had this great act we'd perform for dinner guests in which my mom would close her eyes and ask us each to present a limb that she would use to identify the correct twin. With just one touch she'd know. Even I was impressed. In a way it was comforting because despite being twins, we are individuals and our mom being able to tell us apart like that proved it.

Whenever there was any doubt as to who was who, there was this one distinct characteristic that helped to tell us apart: my ears. Both my ears fold at the top, which we always joked was because Claudin and I were cramped in utero and had to share tight quarters. But then, when I nursing Auggie one morning, I noticed he has the same attribute on his right ear. Turns out, I guess, that it's a family trait. I love that my son inherited the unique feature that always set me apart - a hallmark of his mama.

Port Discovery

In the wake of last week's heat wave - finally able to come up for air that isn't comprised of more O than H - I can (at last!) share our weekend adventures with the littles. Code Orange days are a total bummer when you've got children; it's too dangerous to keep them outdoors for long but staying inside on a summer day just seems like a cruel alternative. And since my 700 sq ft home is not the most conducive to our small crowd, Claudin and I decided to face the area traffic, and probable throngs of people at Baltimore's Inner Harbor, to spend the day at the children's museum. So we packed up and two diaper bags, one mini-backpack, and two strollers later, we were on 95 headed towards the Charm City.

Crossing the threshold of the museum was like entering a wonderful land inhabited by munchkins - a harbinger of the visiting exhibit: The Wizard of Oz. There were THREE floors of interactive, educational exhibits, dominated by a towering urban tree house in the middle of it all. This thing was amazing with all its ropes, tubes, slides, and mesh walkways - it was a shame there's an age and weight limit because I would've otherwise joined in the fun and lost myself in there for hours. Charlie was hilarious to watch, turning himself around dizzy trying to figure out where to go next. Ada, meanwhile, had a playroom just for babies to cruise and crawl around. She cracked herself up in the mirrors that ran along the bottom of the walls and tumbled all over the padded floors. Even August experienced a new range of stimuli - I never saw his eyes so wide as he excitedly sucked and drooled on his fist. Needless to say, a good time was had by all.

I don't know if it's because I'm a new mom and the thought of doing anything with multiple children is intimidating, but I almost feared the excursion to begin with. It was a daunting ambition we'd regret, or so I thought. Once we were out and in it though, it was GREAT - worth any and all trouble just to hear the excitement in Charlie's voice, the joy in Ada's laughter, and to see the wonder in Auggie's eyes. I'm realizing now, as a mom, that when it comes to your child, there isn't much that trumps that.

Three peas in a pod

It was like jumping in a time machine: Last night I was at my mother's house - the home I grew up in - sitting on the floor, arms around my knees, deep in conversation with my sister and old college roommate. The three of us, filling in the spaces between everything that's happened since our last reunion, easily picked right up from where we left off. Ours is the kind of friendship that has endured many forms of cataclysm. It's a friendship that, even with breaks and silence, has kept up with one life event to the next and never lost a step. So when we're endlessly chatting away, reverting back to the silly 20-year-old versions of ourselves, it's as if time never passed.

We were best friends in school - my sister, Renee, and I - which says a lot about her since twins can be quite intimidating. To most "outsiders" the relationship between twins seems so complete that there's no room for another personality. But, she wasn't fazed by it which was lucky because, as it turned out, there were unoccupied spaces in our characters that she filled and vice versa.

Over the course of life, friends fall away, sometimes because of differences in circumstance or proximity of location (the later was true in our case). But some friendships are worth fighting for and it's not even so much a battle as it is a concession. We acknowledge that our real friends, our closest friends, know us and love us - despite what they know about us. So if we're bad at communicating and go months without so much as a text message, there's no judgement. And in the end we wind up with friends who really stick.

We spent the afternoon piecing together conversation between the demands of toddlers and the needs of babies. Just when we'd get into something good, her daughter would start yelling "Mommy, Mommy, Mommyyyyyy!" or my sister's son would be on all fours roaring like a lion and terrorizing his little sister - who has recently learned to crawl but, can't entirely rely on her own her devices to escape him. The scene's chaos was only enhanced by the toys that were strewn all over my mom's basement and a neglected Pixar movie playing in the background. 

With my little guy nursing every 2-3 hours, I was caught by surprise, pulling my shirt up for the fourth time. Has it really been eight hours? Soon after, the children were each put to bed and we finally had a quiet moment to ourselves. At one point, conversation broke and we sat in relative silence taking it all in. When we met 10 years ago, we were so far from being mothers and yet here we were, each of us so natural and comfortable in our new role.

My mother came in moments later and asked, "Why are you sitting in the dark?" Sometime during the previous half hour the summer sun had already set, but just like when we were kids, we were too wrapped up in conversation to have noticed.

A Baby Story

I wasn't going to do it. I wanted to keep it private - greedy girl that I am. I'll hide a pint of Ben & Jerry's in the depths of my freezer just so that I don't have to share with my husband, for Pete's sake. But This isn't about delicious ice cream. This about the birth of my son. One month ago to the day, actually.

It was a very intimate experience and I was only going to allow my very closest of close insight to the event. And I'll go a step further to admit that at first, I wanted to keep it hidden - like I was part of this exclusive group of mamas and ours was a secret society. I realize that reads a bit elitist and am ashamed to have even considered withholding the story because  then I got feedback from a couple of the women I sent it to - some already mothers and others far from it. In either case, these women told me that the story - in all it's honesty - made pregnancy birth less intimidating.

Hold up, wait a minute. I had a natural, med-free home birth, peoples. This is crunchy hippy stuff by most standards. In fact, during my nine months of pregnancy I got crazy-eyed stares and dubious remarks whenever I mentioned my birth plan. And now, ex post facto, I was receiving praise? Yes! Maybe it is possible that despite a lifetime of believing that childbirth required medical intervention, people can recognize that it is actually a natural human act. If my story was empowering to these women, could it do the same for others?

It was decided: every woman (that I can reach, at least) whether she is or ever wants to be a mother needs to know just how amazing our bodies are and what they're capable of. And not so that I can impose my personal choices, but so all the information is out there for her to make her own informed decision. As trusty Wiki defines "Natural childbirth is a philosophy of childbirth that is based on the belief that women who are adequately prepared are innately able to give birth without routine medical interventions".

Now, for fear of neglecting any of the fellas who might be reading, don't leave just yet. This is for you too. The whole production begins with you playing the supporting role after all ("It takes two to Tango", and what not). And its nothing to be squeemish about. Understanding how your legacy personified in this little being, gets from point A to point B, gives you the opportunity to contribute in essential ways. See, despite our belief that we can do it all, women need your help. It makes US better and gives us strength - more on this later, if anyone's interested.

In the end, each of us deals with things differently and there are many paths leading to th same destination. As long as you have a happy, healthy mama and babe when all is said and done, the rest are just details. So, without further ado, please tab on over to the Baby page for the telling of my son's birth.

Once a Runner

I've been running for more than half my life and for just about that long, it's how I've identified myself. Ignore that I'm an identical-looking-but-actually-fraternal-twin. Forget that I'm half Bolivian and speak fluent Spanish (thanks to my mother). I won't even mention that I enjoy just about all forms of art: drawing, painting, writing, poetry, photography... Or that I studied business with the hopes of one day having my own. And I'm - for some reason - embarrassed to tell people my hobbies of sewing, scrap booking, card making, cooking, and just about anything handmade (maybe I'm paranoid of the judgement. Maybe they're too trendy/girly/CRAFT-y). But until a couple of years ago, if you asked me what I did, I'd answer "I'm a runner".

True story: when I was in college, my sister, roommate, and I all went out one weekend for late-night pizza by the slice.  It was was a big deal for us - three DI college athletes - to be out past midnight, eating junk food. A couple of guys come sit down at a table next to ours and one asks "Are you guys part of the Bar Crawl?" (our rebellious night out coincided with the annual event when people walk from bar to bar). "No", I replied and then proudly revealed "We're part of the Cross Country team!" Blank stare. "We just got back from Nationals..." I boast. Nothing. I think he pretty much slowly backed away, got up, and left. I got endless years of  crap for that one.

It goes without saying that I was proud of my running. And it was kind of merited. I saw pretty early success in high school which allowed me the opportunity to continue with the sport in college. Then, after graduating I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to continue training on an semi-elite level. I worked with some really great coaches and earned a few respectable finishes at national competitions. I even made a couple of world teams and got to represent the US at international events. But there's a HUGE disparity between national elite and world class. And in our sport, if you're not world class, what's the point. You can't make a living grabbing cash prizes here and there at local road races. For the record, that is NOT why I ran. But most decorated college athletes graduate with stars in their eyes. Young and ambitious, we think we've got nothing but time and the untapped talent to become the next big Olympian.

I tried at it for a while - three years, actually. In retrospect, I'm not sure I gave it a fair shot. Not in terms of time but ef fort. It's HARD work and admittedly, I was scared. It takes a special kind of focus to put everything into one thing. I didn't acknowledge it at the time, but I wasn't truly willing to do that. Long story short, I finally came to the realization that everything else in my life had been on hold far too long. It was time to move on.

Reluctantly  I let go though, because if I wasn't a runner, then what was I? Would my family and friends be able to separate me from my running after so many years of association? Could I assign myself another characteristic? For a while, when I was in transition, I felt lost. Then one day it occurred to me: there's so much more to me. Challenging Aristotle's synergistic philosophy, I say the sum of our parts makes our whole a lot greater.

I'm not abandoning running. I love it. I'm still very devoted to it. It brought so much to my life - but that's another story for another time. Instead, I embrace everything else that makes me Me. I am a Libra, after all, so it's about time I found balance. Enriching my life with various interests make me a happier and in that way, a more successful person.