listen... do you want to know a secret?

Do you promise not to tell...? (ok, love the Beatles) 

Shh.

I’m training again.

yep. for shizzle.

Race to be announced after race day.

No, seriously... I’m so not hyping myself out of my race. I’ve done it too many times. My best races are the ones where I show up and run. So some Saturday or Sunday this spring, I’m going to just show up and run for an undisclosed number of miles.

And hopefully I can stay in the moment between now and then.

It’s hard to imagine I’m contemplating doing this, since my kid was sick this weekend and I couldn't even get to a mill... but you know, I’ll figure it out. 

I mean, you do know I’ll figure it out... right?

Hear the kick

It’s starting again.

The doubt.

The self-doubt.

It eats away at us.

I hear it in my head. I hear it in the air. I hear it in the voices of the people around me. I wonder a little if it’s because the holidays kick us so hard that we can’t help but doubt our own greatness.

I don’t mean to suggest that the holidays aren’t great. I love them, I do. I love the excitement, the moment, the build up and the goodness that is inherently found wrapped up in the holidays. The friends looking out for friends, the scraping of coins so that charity can be handed out to those less fortunate, and the warmth and wonder of it all as people open their homes and host each other for gatherings that range from pretentious to casual.

But no matter what beautiful expectations you have awaiting you between Thanksgiving and New Years Day, there is some kind of emotional KICK that goes with this season.  

Here’s hoping that it’s not a kick in the face. 

~savor the run~

Life's Greatest Teacher

Maybe this is better

Maybe, it is better to be older.

Like, maybe this total chaos is still better than being a single 21 year old, schlepping about through life trying to find love.

Because, what 21 year old knows who she is?  She doesn’t. No well grounded 21 year old can know herself as well as a slightly confused newly single 36 year old mom.  Ok, there are probably exceptions to every rule, but for the most part, I think that 15 years of life experience trumps almost anything a 21 year old can argue.

Because what is life’s greatest teacher?

Find me a 21 year old who has truly good friends to support her? Good friends who are unselfish. Friends will critique her horrific awesome text poetry in the middle of the night. Friends who will actually stay by her, and do what they say they'll do. The really best kind of good friends will cheerfully push a girl’s buttons with a low chuckle until she’s good and cross, and then make her laugh so hard in the next sentence she can’t remember exactly why there had ever been crossness at all.

The best part of all this is that I didn’t know...

I have it really good.

I really do. Even with the stress of school. Even leading a dual life of “motherhood by some days” and “singlehood by others” with no freaking CLUE how that duality could ever be merged.

Ever.

Of course, that’s just how I know I’m not ready to merge the two. And I guess that’s okay, because there’s a lot more out there to worry about... so, why worry about any of it now?

No real answers come to a person at 11:37 on a Tuesday night.

I sat down with someone the other day who asked me if I was depressed.

Flat. Out. Asked.

Wow. K... Blunt much?

And since I didn’t even see it coming, I answered, “Yes, sometimes. Sometimes it’s hard to get moving when I get stuck.”

“Ok. I wondered.” And then a minute later, “but are you able to have fun when you go out with your friends?”

“Yes.” I answered firmly. And then a slow smile crept across my face as I thought about last weekend. And, I started to giggle as the thought took hold.

That’s nothing, you should see me after beer.

I have seen you after beer.

No, I mean you should see me.. oh yeah.

And as the weeks of nursing school go by, my stress level gets tested daily. I keep raising the bar on the breaking point, because, I really don’t have time to break right now. There are days when I wonder IF I’m going to make it in one piece. Because hell yeah, I’m going to make it. I just wonder what condition I’ll be in when I get to the other side. Life experience has taught me that I will get through this. 

That’s not being optimistic, that’s just a fact.

On those days, when my hands are shaking but my 34^th cup of coffee has failed to warm me, if I’m lucky, my brutal schedule will allow me to spend time with some of my favorite people. So, I’ll lace on my shoes, strap on my Garmin, and hop in my sucktastic beige minivan, all kinds of ready to drive somewhere ridiculous to run while dodging cars or seeking hills.

And without fail, as I buckle myself in, I can’t suppress the giggle that bubbles out when I glance in the rearview mirror to see a dialysis filter on my back seat.

~savor the run~

Perspective... again

Perspective. 

My running nursing school mate, SomeChick, and I say it to each other all the time.

"You thought yesterday was bad...?"
(insert inappropriate cock joke here)
"... perspective. now you have it"

Many of you know, I've been struggling with injury. I am fond of saying that one never knows how bad it is until you really absolutely can't do the thing you love to do. That's where perspective really kicks ass. I've been doing a bit of running here and there, but recreationally, because I wasn't cleared to run any real distances.

Huh. How odd.

So I ran.
Not because I had to, or there was a race looming, or because if I didn't I would die or implode or explode... but, because I wanted to run, so I'd go run.

I even found a runner in my class who is a compatible runner. oh yeah. I liken it to finding a christmas present before christmas... an unexpected gift in the least likely location.

She's got guts. I admire that in a runner.

In theory, she's a bit slower than I am on the run. She's been working hard the last few weeks though, and the pace difference hasn't been noticeable at all. In fact, this week, we pushed each other. We had one of those runs where we finished, and spontaneously hugged each other on the street in front of Caliente.

Yes, we may have been giggling.

Probably we were high. er. make that Definitely we were high. And throwing out, "I love you man" like a bunch of drunk frat boys.

Oh hell. I might STILL be high off that run.
It f*cking rocked.

At that moment, on the street, wrapped in the hug of my classmate... I knew without a doubt that Paulo was right.

“Everything that happens once can never happen again. But everything that happens twice will surely happen a third time.” 

I just needed perspective...

So, My Run is back. I'm medically cleared to train by my physician. And, while my cycling obsession probably won't end, at least now I have options.

I'm cleared to train, and while that is a great thing, I think running because I can sounds really appealing.

Perspective... oh yeah. I've got it.

“I can choose either to be a victim of the world or an adventurer in search of treasure. It's all a question of how I view my life.” 
― Paulo Coelho, Eleven Minutes

A Letter To Harry Potter

Dear Harry Potter,

Every year I write a letter to someone I consider a friend before they take on 26.2.  If you had ever told me that it would be you, I would have casually suggested you stop smoking crack...

Because to me, you are the coolest cat in town. You never show fear. You just roll with it. You own your destiny. You are one of Those People.

Hey~ You People!

You get this running thing, and you get what it means to the people around you.

Yesterday you seemed.. not nervous about your race, exactly...
Just, for a minute there, you looked like a marathoner about to undertake something amazing who was
 nervous about your race... exactly.

I really just wanted to write to you to say this...

“It's the possibility of having a dream come true that makes life interesting.” 
― Paulo Coelho, Alchemist

The courage at going all out and "sell out" on race day is what makes you a galactically badass runner.  You said something about if it goes down, it's going down ugly... Is that sort of like saying you might fail and have to be carried the last mile?

In my mind, I don't think "fail" is a possible outcome. Success is measured by what...? Lack of Failure? Time? Are we sure about that?

Couldn't one argue that success is measured by courage?

And if that's the case, haven't you already succeeded?

I listened to you yesterday, and here's what I think I heard...  you would rather sell out and run the line, than achieve mediocrity and wonder what might have been.

Perhaps I'm wrong. Perhaps you said something about being safe, playing to finish and just getting by... who knows, I'm a girl, girls interpret things "differently than they're intended" all the time ~or so I'm told~. 

"Courage is not the absence of fear, it's the appropriate response to fear" ~ Nina Rosenstand, Ethicist ~

So go out there and run the edge, my friend.

Be in the moment. I will be out there to cheer for you. To spectate you. And to run "with" you. And if needed, to help Coach Black carry your sorry a** across the finishline. 'Cos isn't that what friends do?

oh, and Try Not To Suck.

~savor the run~

gba gf