By guest writer Michelle Sedas, CI-CPT.

Why do you exercise? What drives you to get out of your warm bed, in the wee hours of the morning, and lace up those kicks so that you can hit the pavement? What motivates you to plan your days so that you’re able to consistently spend quality time at the gym? What inspires you to get your body in motion while so many others choose to stay glued to their couches? Is it to burn calories? To reduce your risk for lifestyle-related diseases? To shape your body by building muscle? To counteract the daily effects of stress? While all of these are valid, solid reasons, my response to Why do you exercise? can be summed up with one word: endorphins.

Oh, how I love this word! Combining the shortened forms of endogenous (endo-) and morphine (-orphin), the word endorphin means “a morphine-like substance originating from within the body.” And, if I close one eye and squint just right endorphins kind of looks like dolphins—and any word that reminds me of those intelligent, gentle sea creatures is, quite frankly, a cool word. But, back to my point…

These brain chemicals, released during exercise, produce feelings of well-being, happiness, and euphoria. During my treadmill time, I often come up with exciting ideas, great plans, and thought-provoking insights. Immediately after I lift weights, I am often filled with a rush of happiness. And these good feelings can last for quite a while. In fact, a new study shows that after we exercise, we are in a better mood for up to 12 hours.

Like most people, I welcome these exercise-induced endorphin effects (try saying that three times fast!) And as a 33 year old who has struggled with depression for over 20 years, I crave those happy moments. Moments when my mind is focused, and I’m filled with energy, and I’m free. In my quest to determine my therapeutic level of exercise, I’ve come across encouraging research-based findings:

• The Mayo Clinic states that “doing 30 minutes or more of exercise a day, for three to five days a week can significantly improve depression symptoms.”

• A study by The Cooper Institute has shown that intensity or difficulty of exercise is a key factor in improving mild to moderate depression. 

• The Harvard Medical school reports on a 2005 study concluding that “walking fast for about 35 minutes a day five times a week or 60 minutes a day three times a week had a significant influence on mild to moderate depression symptoms. Walking fast for only 15 minutes a day five times a week or doing stretching exercises three times a week did not help as much.”

I’ve known for quite some time that for my mental health, exercising consistently with a moderate-to-high level of intensity is just as important as taking those two white pills each morning. But to see in black and white the scientific findings showing that exercise improves mood fills me with hope. So the next time you’re feeling a bit blah, a tad troubled, or even downright depressed, think about those endorphins and remember that an instant pick-me-up is just movements away. 

Michelle Sedas is an inspirational author, the cofounder of Running Moms Rock, and a Cooper Institute Certified Personal Trainer.

Here is what Jerri says about fueling your workouts…

Proper nutrition before, during, and after exercise allows a speedy recovery for your body.  

Before You Run:

Eat forty-five minutes prior to intense running or weight training.  Eating a light snack before exercise may increase fat-burning.  Your body prefers to use carbohydrates as fuel, so carb up!

For my early morning runs, I start with a simple carbohydrate: a banana.  On longer runs, set up fuel stations every four miles.  Andi and I lay out water along with bananas, oranges, or Clif Shot Blox.

After You Run:

Do not let more than forty-five minutes pass before your post-exercise snack. Without another snack, cortisol levels can rise and cause the body to retain fat.  Post snacks also help your body’s cells recover quickly.

Post workout meals should contain a small protein, carb, and a healthy fat.

Here are some suggestions: a protein shake (I like Jay Robb Whey Protein Shakes) with a tablespoon of almond butter and half banana.  Be Kind Bars, string cheese with a small apple, a handful of almonds and fruit, or may favorite, one egg with half cup of veggies.

You know your body better than anyone else.  What one person can eat before a run might make another person feel sick to their stomach. Andi can inhale a peanut butter sandwich and a cup of coffee before we run.  I’m good with a banana and nothing else. Try out different foods and see what works best for your stomach. Always practice your eating routine for at least a couple of weeks before a race.

Jerri

When it comes to conditioning, sometimes it is hard to know where to start. Running is so darned simple—it seems like a travesty to junk it up with fancy equipment or ridiculous fads. However, conditioning is not only essential for injury prevention, but it is the only way to improve your PR.

I have yet to find a running-specific workout better than kettlebells. These little beauties look like instruments of torture (pretty much true…) due to their bowling ball shape and density. Unlike regular free weights that require isolation of specific muscle groups, kettlebell maneuvers are dynamic, engaging multiple muscle groups at the same time. Since almost every physical act demands the coordination of multiple muscle groups, kettlebell strength has more realistic fitness benefits than dumbbells.

So, if your goal is actually being strong as opposed to just looking strong, don’t waste your time on tricurls and military press. Hop on over to your local sporting goods store and invest in a kettlebell or two. A bell/ DVD combo (here it is for $50)is a great buy for beginners who need to learn the basic moves. Don’t be shy on the weight—the first few kettlebell workouts are brutal, but you will quickly outgrow a fifteen pound bell since you are using your entire body to fling it around, not just your biceps or delts.

Start with this exercise: The Basic Swing.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=q0jalJ-3e7U

Now go get strong!

Who loves FREE STUFF? Today’s guest from Elite Feet Inc., donated my favorite running accessory: BLINKY LIGHTS. These lights clip to your shorts and strobe so drivers can see you in the dark. Leave a comment on this post for a chance to WIN!

The key to a safe summer run is WATER. Nothing is more important. Every year there are tragic stories about otherwise healthy runners (even teenagers!) who die of heat stroke or dehydration. Be smart Running Mamas, drink, drink, drink!!!

James Drain, C.Ped., is the owner of Oklahoma’s number one running store, Elite Feet. He also trains under the medical director for both the Memorial and Tulsa Marathons. Here is his advice on hydrating:

• Find out how much water you lose running by weighing yourself, going for your normal run, and then weighing yourself again. To stay hydrated, you must replace 80-100% of the lost weight with the right fluids.
• Don’t just drink water, because lack of sodium leads to muscle cramping. Drink ONE electrolyte drink (like PowerAde) to every TWO waters.
• If you stop sweating during your run, you are overheating. You need to cool down FAST. Move to the shade, drink water, hose off, or make yourself an ice bath. 

Signs of dehydration: Dry Skin, Dry Mouth, Dark Urine, Nausea, Fatigue, Head Rushes.

Seek medical attention if you or a friend experience: Muscle spasms, Vomiting, Racing pulse, Shriveled skin, Dim vision, Painful urination, Confusion, Difficulty breathing, Seizures, Chest and Abdominal pain, or Unconsciousness.

Running Mamas: Have you ever been overheated or dehydrated? Tell us your funny or frightening stories for a chance to win an awesome Elite Feet BLINKY LIGHT!

Contributor James Drain is a medically licensed pedorithist and master shoe fitter.  Inventor of eleven lace techniques used in pedorathics schooling and one  tape technique for shin splints taught in college and athletic trainer camps.  The orthotic maker for Oklahoma University and Tinker Air Force Base. Also a runner with  5- marathons 24- halves 2- 10ks 82- 5ks!!!

If you’ve granted your Mizuno’s a three-month sabbatical, HOLD ON GIRL!

Summer is the best time to lay a foundation for fall road races. Build your mileage slowly so you can upgrade your race distance when the season resumes. If athletic achievement isn’t enough motivation, how about the issue of, ahem, swimwear?

Saynomore.

Running in the off-season is a sweaty, smelly business. Because I love you so very much, I’m going to pass along a few tips to help you get the most out of your summer workouts. Check back each week for expert advice on hydration, fueling, cross-training and injury prevention.

Special guest writers include:

James Drain- medically licensed pedorathist, owner of OKC-based running store Elite Feet.

Jerri Wright- my beloved running partner and certified health NUT.

Michelle Sedas- Co-race director for Running Moms Rock, author of Live Inspired

Jerrod Wright, D.C., owner Wright Wellness

Look at my book I wrote! See my byline?! I am actually smart—it says so right there!

It’s an indulgent fantasy since most of my life is better than I imagined—Greg and my boys for example. There aren’t daydreams enough to equal the love I feel for them. And yet.

There are times that I’ve called Toby a big fat crybaby, or I’m annoyed at Greg for loving our cat more than I do, or I’m just feeling especially carnal for no immediate reason, and all I can do is compare myself to the nearest friend who seems to be doing things better. The friend is always sweeter, more genuine, more humble, more spiritual, more motherly, more likeable, more loved. When I resent her, I feel even worse about myself for being the villainous wretch in the fairy tale whom everyone despises.

If I were an alcoholic I would slosh down glass after glass of red wine to drown out my jealousy and disappointment. Since I’m not, I eat spoonfuls of Nutella right out of the jar and post something pithy on twitter to steal a few handfuls of admiration.

In Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott describes the literary life: “As a writer, one will have over the years many experiences that stimulate and nourish the spirit. These will be quiet and deep inside, however, unaccompanied by thunder and tremulous angels.” That statement could be written a thousand different ways. “As a mother…”  “As a runner…” “As a human…”  

Why aren’t the quietly nourishing experiences enough? Certain corners of my soul are satisfied without pomp. Like when I run, I set one foot in front of the other, one mile at a time, day after day. I don’t care that I will never be Paula Radcliffe, because I’m running to hear my own heart beat, and the effort is its own reward. Other parts of me are more vulnerable, less sure of their own intrinsic worth. They need to be stoked and coddled and assured. If I’m being honest, that really bothers me.

On my desk is a picture of four Indian children from a balwadi in Mumbai. When I feel especially introspective, I look them in the eye and ask them, “What do you need from me?” My pulse stops when they speak because I know it is God. Love us, they say. And that’s all.

They don’t need my importance. They don’t need my self-esteem. They don’t need my trophies. Neither do my friends, my husband, or my own children. The more perfect I am, the less I am useful to them. My fragile self takes their place in my heart.

Someone sent me a beautiful prayer yesterday, written by Father Larry Hein, mentor to Brennen Manning:

May all your expectations be frustrated, may all your plans be thwarted, may all your desires be withered into nothingness, if it proves necessary for you to experience the powerlessness and poverty of a child and sing and dance in the love of God who is Father, Son and Spirit.

That is my hope—yield to the things that rub the shine off my penny, because those are the very things making me great. I’m not seven anymore, so I don’t have to think like I did then. I can put my head down, one patch of road at a time, and run past my insecurity to the place where nothing remains. No trophies. No thunder. No tremulous angels.

And then there’s room enough for love.

This article originally published in the Feb.-Mar. 2010 issue of Deeper. For more articles on faith and family or to subscribe via e-mail to the Mom’s Moments and Deeper Newsletters, go here.

My son, Toby, turned five on January 12^th. Our family laughed over pizza at his favorite restaurant just as the whole of Port Au Prince crumbled to the ground. We didn’t learn the news until the next day when the pictures spilled from our T.V. along with a painful realization. During the chaos and death, we were celebrating life. The irony felt like a stone in my heart.

I wanted to shield Toby from Haiti’s devastation– tuck him in bed, kiss his unharmed head to sleep unburdened. But instead of peace, the thought gave me shame. I remembered Everson, a five-year-old-boy, pictured lying on a piece of cardboard in the Haitian dirt. If Everson could survive the horror in Port Au Prince, my son was strong enough to know about it. He could fight for Everson. He could fight for Haiti.

I copied a few pictures of the rubble and the one of Everson, and sat down with Toby to explain earthquakes and tragedy. It was short and simple- nothing to paralyze him in fear. He listened, awed by the extreme destruction. I prayed aloud, thanking God for the safety and comfort we enjoyed and asking Him to help the people in Haiti who had neither. Toby listened, and then ran off to play. That was that.

Before bed, we performed our usual nighttime ritual, each family member praying in turn. When we got to Toby, he thanked God for his favorite things: trash trucks and his family. Then he added “God, You know that ‘earthcrank’ in Haiti? I’m gonna need you to clean that up.” It was completely un-elegant, utterly simple. The kind of prayer that penetrates the heart of God.

A few days later, we bought aspirin and cold medicine and added it to the large collection boxes in our church lobby, bound for the under-supplied Haitian hospitals. Toby and his younger brother, Charlie, dropped our gifts into the bins with pride. Later in the car, I saw Toby’s face looking thoughtful in the rear view mirror. “What are you thinking buddy?”

“I’m praying for Haiti in my mind,” he said. My heart skipped a beat.

Like every parent, I am familiar with protecting my kids. Nothing feels better than burying their faces in my chest against any sign of doom. Only I don’t want to raise children who bury their faces when trouble comes. I want to raise children who will stand. Children who see disaster, hunger, or pain, and storm the gates of heaven like mighty warriors.

Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” Matthew 19:14 (NIV)

She wrote:

Recently I came to a place where God asked me if He was enough. If all I ever had was Him, would I be happy with my life. As I was humbled and answered Him “yes,” everything else appeared as such a blessing. My husband, my boys, my family, my friends, my house, my neighbours, my writing.

It’s like the story of Abraham and Isaac – I really don’t like that story – but all God wanted to know was where Abraham’s true loyalty was directed. Once God KNEW Abraham was solely devoted to Him and His purposes, He blessed Abraham with descendants as numerous as the grains of sand or the stars in the sky.

He’s put desires and dreams in your heart for a reason – to glorify Him and to bless you. He’ll show you, when His timing is perfect, what you are supposed to do with those dreams and desires. It starts with what’s right in front of you – your family, friends, your world.

Blessings on you today as you go about living God’s will right where you are.

That is my prayer for myself… for God to be enough. Then to “start with what’s right in front of me.” I can do that, one little step at a time.

So, is God enough for you? Who or what is in front of you waiting for you to start moving?

My favorite part of this new blog design is the tag line: “Choose a destination, run fast.” The only problem is me not having a destination.

I spend a lot of time writing about my boys. This blog may become the longest book ever written, and if the climax is Toby and Charlie’s passage into adulthood I’m gonna go ahead and delete myself from your Google reader to spare you the ennui. Being a mom is the purest part of me, the easiest cause to wholly pledge myself, but I want to give more to my kids than devotion. I want my boys to see meaning beyond themselves. I will have to show them in my own life.

Recently I met with some girlfriends to talk about our purposes. We are over the cusp of thirty, and bubbling with energy and passion. If we blink once we will be forty, ten years spent on something. What will it be? Micro-managing our kids? Jogging the saddle bags off our thighs? Twitter? We decided to figure out God’s plan before we are blinded by our own busyness.

After our meeting, the mystery of my purpose itched around in my brain, clouded by all my failed ventures. You know how there are people that can touch anything and have success? I’m the opposite. I can throw myself head first into something and ferociously tank it. I’m not an awesome runner despite years of dedicated training. I’m not a good salesperson, marketer, or administrator. I liked my blog so I went all the way and bought my own domain just as my traffic plunged downtown. I’m like Abe Lincoln, but without the final redemption of being President.  

I dreamed out some really fun destinies, but they all required a great turn of fate and conveniently culminated with my own personal success.

Do you remember Andi Hawkins? They are building a theme park in Orlando based on her best-selling fantasy novels. Weren’t the characters so engaging?! I heard she is donating all of the profits to World Vision. Isn’t she a complete inspiration? Or…Can you believe Andi Hawkins was the first woman to ever win a marathon while pushing a baby jogger? She is on the cover of Runner’s World eating whey protein brownies with her two super-happy kids. Isn’t she such an awesome role model for healthy motherhood? I’m following her on Twitter…

Dreaming made me feel bad for how little I have actually achieved. There are so many things I haven’t started–things I haven’t finished. My under-performance slumped over my shoulders like regret.

“God what do you have for me to do?” A thought came to me. I stared at the mirror wondering if I would be satisfied with my life if I were just a wingman. What if I were made to support others– never destined for greatness, for fame, for glory? What if it were just me and my big mouth speaking life into my friends as we walk unceremoniously toward heaven?  Would I look back in ten years unashamed?

I got excited. I thought of all the people around me, and the joy I feel enoucarging them, praying for them. God’s breath filled the space I carved for my own glory and I welled over with peace.

What better purpose could I teach my boys? Toby and Charlie, I want to see you move mountains, but don’t be deceived. There is nothing unsatisfying in the sky God opens for you. It might look plain before you take off, but when His wind lifts your wings you won’t even care if it makes you invisible.

And he is so grouchy. His preschool teacher mentioned this in the most sensitive manner. “Is Charlie, okay? He seems a little… out of it,” she said very helpfully, very “it’s probably an ear infection and out of your control” -ishly. I appreciated her grace, but really, what can you say when your son’s crankiness is noteworthy among other two-year-olds?

I made an appointment with Charlie’s doctor, hoping he wouldn’t prescribe The Strong-Willed Child and a spanking spoon (Oh parenting shame). Instead, we took home a clean bill of health and a bottle of my new BFF, melatonin.

It wasn’t easy to dispense melatonin to Charlie’s skinny little self. He could only have half an adult dose, which is .1 milliliters. My brain locks up over anything metric, so I dabbed a weensy drop on my finger and stuck it in his mouth. He didn’t cry or spit it out, but he didn’t drop into an instant coma, either. He was still talking when I closed the door. Over the next few minutes he lost his gusto and drooped into beautiful silence. Eureka!

It’s been five days and I am a happy mama. Glory to melatonin, herb of the heavens.*

*If you have any more suggestions, bring it on. If the melatonin quits working, I am fresh out of ideas.