"Are you ok? Do you need to walk? We can walk now and just run through the six mile mark at the top of the hill." I talked quickly as I could see he was struggling to get up Torrence Avenue. "MOM!!! I'm fine." I could tell I was getting on his nerves. Again.
It isn't because it was running that I feel this way. It could have been anything in the world that he set out to do. Watching him execute his plan (with the help of a chatty annoying pacer and his real running coach, his dad) so perfectly, so maturely, so full of perseverance, struggle, sweat and guts was hands down the proudest moment to date for me, his mother. Much to my sheer blissful joy, it DID happen to be running. That's the icing.
I've written about him before. Will did not like to run. As a matter of fact, if he didn't really have to move at all, he was ok with it. His parents were not. He's played soccer for years, which is obviously a sport that requires continual running. But I think it's more because he enjoys the actual game. I won't say he loves, but for sure, enjoys it. So back in early October when John told me he was going to train Will to run the Mini Heart half marathon, my initial response was "Good luck with that." When I realized he was serious, and Will was on board, I still wasn't overly excited as I figured this would soon get very old and as the winter freeze set in, so would the honeymoon of completing his long runs be over.
Will wanted a paintball gun. They are expensive and a stupid waste of money, in my opinion. Where would he even use the thing? I didn't know many, if any of his friends that owned them. John told Will that if he completed the half marathon, he would buy him a paintball gun. I went along with it completely confident that his wish would not come to fruition.
And so they began to train, starting with a 3 mile long run. I should say to begin with, Emma trained with them, as she too, thought she'd like to run the half marathon. Her dangling carrot was getting her ears double pierced. Although she was strong and did well on the runs, she constantly complained whenever she had to run and finally just opted not to do it. We told them both that this was their choice and they would never be forced to run. But they would not be allowed to participate in the half marathon untrained. We would not go for them killing themselves for one day to get what they wanted without proper training. As any runner that has seriously trained for an event knows, the training gets the credit, not so much the race. The race reflects the training (unless you have a completely bad day... that happens) but the training is what takes character and dedication. I assumed my thirteen year old son did not have the kind of dedication to go through with something that he really doesn't enjoy.
Several weeks into their training, I decided that maybe I should check out how safe it was for a growing adolescent to run distance. After all, runners suffer from a myriad of aches pains and problems attributed to running. To put that kind of stress on rapidly growing bones and changing hormones had to be a bit risky I figured. Even though I was still pretty sure he'd not go through with it once the long runs got past 7 miles or so, I began to look some things up on the internet and finally just asked his pediatrician what she thought about the idea. She knew I was a runner and I told her that his dad was also a runner now. Her very practical approach was just to watch him carefully for signs of burnout or pain. The knees would likely be the target area if he developed a problem. She said that she was confident he would be trained well since he had parents who would be diligently watching and knew what to watch for (*blush*). She then said "That's fantastic. Good for him!"
So week after week, the boys ran on Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday. Will had begun his basketball season and was practicing on Monday and Friday. Every weekend when the long run came around, Will grabbed his music, filled his bottles with Gatorade, usually made some "Oh brother... can't we do this later?" kind of comment, and took off with John. Many times he actually whined about it. There were some Sundays that I remember John saying "Buddy, you do not have to do this. Just say the word and we will stop training. I am not going to drag you out here." I would usually interject with "Come on, Will, this is FUN! Don't you feel great after a long run? Don't you feel accomplished?" Sometimes he would say "No, I just feel sore." But I knew he was happy every time he chose to go. He'd come back and be very chatty about how the run went. He'd tell me how he felt at different times. How he thought he wasn't going to be able to make it through but then a good song would come on and he would feel better. And each time, I know he was astounded at the distance he'd just run. I learned that during a long run, they would say a prayer after each mile. What an awesome thing for me to hear as I know that on some long runs, it's God alone that gets me to complete it. It began to make sense to me why he continued and why he stuck with it. It wasn't me and it wasn't really John. It was God guiding this boy week after week, long run after long run, helping him do something that would give him the confidence he so desperately needed as he entered his teenage years. To think it was his parents would be a selfish thing. Trust me, we set the example of picking up our things and cleaning quite a bit and it simply doesn't work. Only Divine intervention could get Will Rewwer to willfully run for a long time.
On race day, I woke Will up early. I wanted him to eat breakfast two hours before the start. I had him eat two mini bagels with peanut butter and drink some water. I told him that ten minutes before the start, he should drink Gatorade or take some of his gel bites. He seemed pretty relaxed and free from nerves though he said he was a little nervous. I think was more nervous than he was.
On the way to the race, we stopped at Starbucks so that John and I could get coffee. Will asked for a "shot of espresso.." I replied with a "Hell no you are not going to try something new on race day...." rather than "Will you are thirteen and have no business drinking espresso..." I was now in coach/runner/racer mode. Not mom mode.
Once downtown, parked and at the start, we were ready to run! I "informed" the boys that I would set the pace for the first few miles. I knew that adrenaline and nerves would cause that knee jerk reaction of starting out way too fast. Given the course was a challenging one full of hills, which Will did not train on, I was hoping that our average pace would be under an eleven min/mile for the duration. They had usually done their long runs just under 10 minute miles. I reviewed John's Garmin and noticed that they always started out faster than they finished. I told them we would start out in the 10s and bring it down. I figured it would be the last 3 miles that slowed us considerably as Will's longest run to date had been 10.5 miles. I also knew those hills would play a hand in wearing him out and I thought if we can average a sub 11 minute pace, we would have done really well. But all along, I told Will the goal was to go the distance. To walk if he needed to, even if it wasn't a scheduled "walk break". The plan was to run the race the way they'd trained on the long run... run 1 mile then walk 1 minute. Mentally, he never had farther than a mile to run, he could get a quick recovery and start again.
The first couple of miles went off without a hitch. I did have to constantly remind him to slow down as he would get faster and faster when we'd start up after each walk break. I would tell him when to drink, when to eat and not to "zig-zag" because he was adding distance. I listened to his breathing to gauge how hard he was working. I continued to nag him about his pace and by mile 5, I just thought "Well, it's his race to blow. The kid's got to learn and after all this training, it's going to be a hard lesson for him." I decided just to follow his lead. I constantly asked him if he was ok and he constantly replied that he was fine. As suspected, Torrence was rough for him, but he flew down it. Once we made the right turn onto Columbia Parkway and immediately into another hill, he slowed down. John looked at me and said "We got him...", indicating that Will was now going to struggle after exhausting himself. My heart sank as we were not even at the halfway mark.
Mile after mile, the kid amazed me. Our splits stayed pretty even despite the hills. He seemed so tired but he kept the pace. His breathing was getting pretty labored, his face red and caked with salt and his form was suffering a bit. But his pace stayed even. At mile nine I could tell he was so tired. I suggested walking 30 seconds every half mile instead of 1 minute every mile. He liked that idea and mentally, it was easier to think of running just a half mile before a break. Like magic, it worked. Mile 10 he was asking for water. We had not come across an aid station in awhile and I didn't see one close either. I was very upset as I said out loud "WHERE IS AN AID STATION? He NEEDS a drink!!" No one on the course uttered a word at that point. The sun was out in full force and we were all pretty warm. I think we hit the aid station at mile 12 (gee, thanks Kentucky!). I looked at Will and said "Last mile buddy. You have done so awesome. Grammy and papa are waiting at the finish. Let's run strong." Then a damn hill. For God sakes, did they not know the kid was only THIRTEEN when they routed the course out? What is wrong with this race director. He is just sick.
Up the hill he went. Strong but oh so tired. Into the city and around the bend and there it was... the finish line banner waving ahead. "THERE IT IS WILL!" I was trying to motivate him and get him to run strong. God did he try, but he had given his all on this course. All he could do was maintain his current pace (which was pretty impressive still). John said "Go get it buddy!" To which Will snappishly replied "Dad, I AM!" John and I hung back and watched as our boy crossed the finish line. As I crossed I stopped my Garmin and checked out our overall average pace... my stats said 13.2 miles in 2:07:33, which gave us an average pace of 9:40 (official 13.1 in 2:07:36 with an avg pace of 9:45... I knew that race director was shady).
Will ran a beautiful race. Each 5k faster than the previous. He exceeded both mine and John's expectations of what he would do (not necessarily what he COULD do, as we always can do more than we believe we can). I am still in awe over his performance. Although I shouldn't be. That morning, before Will and John were awake, I said my morning prayers. I asked God to give Will the courage, confidence and strength it would take to complete this race.
I would say God answered my prayers... and then some. And I have not stopped grinning.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Friday, March 16, 2012
The Expense of This Very "Cheap" Sport
Yesterday I was on the phone with Sarah when she had to go because the UPS truck was at her door with a delivery. Of course, I gave her shit about her love of on-line shopping and told her that she shops more than I do. I can't remember the last time I really shopped (besides Christmastime, but that doesn't count) and it's been a really long time since I had a UPS delivery for an on-line purchase. Not 2 hours later did I receive my e-mail confirmation for registering for the Air Force Marathon. And I really had to laugh at myself considering two weeks ago I got an e-mail confirmation for two entries into the Marine Corps Marathon. I suppose I had to eat my words to Sarah.
I hear this often... actually, I say this often, "Oh running is such a cheap sport. All you need are a pair of shoes, t-shirt and shorts and you can go out your front door. No gym membership fees needed." Every heard that? Ever said that? While it is true that the act of running is inexpensive, let's break down the cost of running in the Rewwer household (ok, I won't put a dollar amount because John may quit running and ask me to quit also).
I did a big shopping trip at Kroger on Wednesday. Right after the produce section, my cart automatically migrates to the "health food" section, although I am not sure why Powergels and Clif Shot Bloks are located in that section as they are pretty much nothing but sugar. I stopped in what I'll call the fuel section and grabbed handfuls of Zone bars, Luna bars and Clif bars. I also grabbed Power Gel packets, Clif Shot Bloks and Power Cola chewy things. I grabbed protein bars also. The average cost of each of these bars is a dollar. I grabbed at least 25 of the mentioned variety. Now while that seems like a lot for me, keep in mind that John is in marathon training also (makes me smile just to type that) and Will is currently doing a weekly long run in prep for Sunday's half marathon (makes me REALLY smile to type that). He doesn't need that type of fuel for shorter runs during the week, but a thirteen year old boy running anything over 10 miles gets whatever the heck he can stomach for those runs. It isn't like I can grab a bulk of whatever is on sale either. When doing a long run, you eat whatever works to make you feel good. And that is different for each of us. John prefers Shot Bloks (though I tell him he should like what I like), I like gels and real food like pretzels, clif bars, animal crackers, ect.., and Will likes those cola bursts by Powerbar. We all respond differently to different fuel types. Once you find what powers your long run, you stay with it.
After continuing through the store and filling my cart with real life food, I made it to the sports drink isle. Thankfully Powerade was on sale for .59 cents. Now while I prefer Gatorade any day over Powerade, I go with the cheapest when it comes to this because my stomach knows no difference... even though I really dislike drinking anything that is bright blue, red or dark purple (Gatorade makes Rain Berry flavor... the lightest possible color of sports drink and very good tasting).
I finished up my trip with a cart loaded full of food to feed a family of six PLUS everything needed to fuel long runs for awhile. It's never easy to see that total and think of what my bill would be without the running fuel.
Let's then move on to shoes. Well, there are lots of great running shoes out there at discounted prices. But of course, I have an affinity for the ones that are not discounted. Much like running fuel, when you find a shoe that you feel good running in and does not contribute to any sort of running injury or pain, you cling to it and sometimes that comes with a hefty price tag. I happen to like the Brooks Glycerin and the Brooks Pure Flow. The Glycerins are not cheap. But to be able to run many miles in a shoe that works well makes the cost justifiable. I have found that my shoes are best changed every 3 months right now. Four if my mileage is lower. There is also the gear that is cute, functional ($18.00 sweaty bands ARE functional... they just happen to be cute too) and needs to be replaced regularly. Oh yes, and my Garmin that is not even a year old will not hold a charge longer than one hour as of Tuesday. Nor did it archive my last 2 runs. And this is the truth... not a ploy to buy yet the newest Garmin out on the Market. I am hoping to get my current one replaced for free. See? Thrifty!
As I begin to really think about how much money I spend on my hobby (that has really become a necessity so is it really a hobby anymore?), I have to eat my words to Sarah and to anyone else I may think shops "too much". Without a doubt, one can look at what I spend to be a runner and make judgements about what a selfish and financially wasteful sport it is as well. Maybe they are right. But if they lived in my house during a time when I was not running for whatever reason in the past two years, they just may see fit to write a grant so that the federal government could intervene with funding to get me back on my feet again as quickly as possible. Just ask my husband.
I hear this often... actually, I say this often, "Oh running is such a cheap sport. All you need are a pair of shoes, t-shirt and shorts and you can go out your front door. No gym membership fees needed." Every heard that? Ever said that? While it is true that the act of running is inexpensive, let's break down the cost of running in the Rewwer household (ok, I won't put a dollar amount because John may quit running and ask me to quit also).
I did a big shopping trip at Kroger on Wednesday. Right after the produce section, my cart automatically migrates to the "health food" section, although I am not sure why Powergels and Clif Shot Bloks are located in that section as they are pretty much nothing but sugar. I stopped in what I'll call the fuel section and grabbed handfuls of Zone bars, Luna bars and Clif bars. I also grabbed Power Gel packets, Clif Shot Bloks and Power Cola chewy things. I grabbed protein bars also. The average cost of each of these bars is a dollar. I grabbed at least 25 of the mentioned variety. Now while that seems like a lot for me, keep in mind that John is in marathon training also (makes me smile just to type that) and Will is currently doing a weekly long run in prep for Sunday's half marathon (makes me REALLY smile to type that). He doesn't need that type of fuel for shorter runs during the week, but a thirteen year old boy running anything over 10 miles gets whatever the heck he can stomach for those runs. It isn't like I can grab a bulk of whatever is on sale either. When doing a long run, you eat whatever works to make you feel good. And that is different for each of us. John prefers Shot Bloks (though I tell him he should like what I like), I like gels and real food like pretzels, clif bars, animal crackers, ect.., and Will likes those cola bursts by Powerbar. We all respond differently to different fuel types. Once you find what powers your long run, you stay with it.
After continuing through the store and filling my cart with real life food, I made it to the sports drink isle. Thankfully Powerade was on sale for .59 cents. Now while I prefer Gatorade any day over Powerade, I go with the cheapest when it comes to this because my stomach knows no difference... even though I really dislike drinking anything that is bright blue, red or dark purple (Gatorade makes Rain Berry flavor... the lightest possible color of sports drink and very good tasting).
I finished up my trip with a cart loaded full of food to feed a family of six PLUS everything needed to fuel long runs for awhile. It's never easy to see that total and think of what my bill would be without the running fuel.
Let's then move on to shoes. Well, there are lots of great running shoes out there at discounted prices. But of course, I have an affinity for the ones that are not discounted. Much like running fuel, when you find a shoe that you feel good running in and does not contribute to any sort of running injury or pain, you cling to it and sometimes that comes with a hefty price tag. I happen to like the Brooks Glycerin and the Brooks Pure Flow. The Glycerins are not cheap. But to be able to run many miles in a shoe that works well makes the cost justifiable. I have found that my shoes are best changed every 3 months right now. Four if my mileage is lower. There is also the gear that is cute, functional ($18.00 sweaty bands ARE functional... they just happen to be cute too) and needs to be replaced regularly. Oh yes, and my Garmin that is not even a year old will not hold a charge longer than one hour as of Tuesday. Nor did it archive my last 2 runs. And this is the truth... not a ploy to buy yet the newest Garmin out on the Market. I am hoping to get my current one replaced for free. See? Thrifty!
As I begin to really think about how much money I spend on my hobby (that has really become a necessity so is it really a hobby anymore?), I have to eat my words to Sarah and to anyone else I may think shops "too much". Without a doubt, one can look at what I spend to be a runner and make judgements about what a selfish and financially wasteful sport it is as well. Maybe they are right. But if they lived in my house during a time when I was not running for whatever reason in the past two years, they just may see fit to write a grant so that the federal government could intervene with funding to get me back on my feet again as quickly as possible. Just ask my husband.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Links
Recently I was in a group setting in which I was required to stand up, give my name, spouse's name, children's name, occupation and hobbies (no, it was not for RAA.. Runner Addict Anonymous). When I got to my hobbies, I automatically spit out "Running. If I could do anything at all with a boat load of free time, I would run." I realize to non-runners, that sounds like insanity at it's peak. If you are not a runner, you will never get it. If you are a runner, it makes perfect sense.
What I neglected to also say is that I love to write and I love to read. There isn't just one topic or type of reading I like to do either. Sure I love reading about running, but I also love reading about all kinds of other things. As a matter of fact, a bad habit of mine is that I assume that everyone else likes to read too. And I'm certain they like to read what I am currently fascinated with. So I send links. Lots of links to articles that I think others will like. The truth is, not everyone likes to read what I like to read. And even less do they like receiving links. Links suck.
I currently keep this blog that I started over a year ago to journal about this dream of mine... a goal I set for myself over three years ago. Hard to believe it's been that long, but it has. And I imagine often that when I reach it, I will go back and re-read this entire blog from start to finish and I will create a work of art intended for publication. Yes, my friends, a big dream of mine is to write a book. I imagine the title: "Holy SH*T, I've made it to Boston!" That would be awesome, but I don't think it would fly. So I'd have to come up with something else. It would have to be catchy though. I mean, who would buy a book about an average runner who ran a bunch of marathons and finally qualified? That just described a great big chunk of runners that make up the Boston Marathon field. And what if I don't qualify? Well that doesn't change the fact that I still love to write and I'd still love to write a book. That book could quite possibly be titled: "How I managed to beat my brother by a LOT in the Western States 100 ultramarathon." I can already read the forward by my good buddy, Brad Paisley (who doesn't know we are good buddies). He would talk about how there is a link between my running and his guitar playing. It really would/will be a great read.
So in other words, depending on the type of link in which we are referencing, they don't all suck.
There is a link between runners. A link that creates a pretty spectacular bond. Today was track day. Normally I don't shy away from track work, but today I just plain didn't want to do it. I could have easily talked myself out of going, but Sarah was meeting me. I figured she was itching to get in a good dose of speed considering we both have had a pretty off couple of weeks in regard to training. So I thought, "Just get it over with. It's only 6 x 800 meter repeats. Or rather it's only 1 x 800 meter repeat... done 5 more times. Yeah, that's much better. Just one." I also knew Jen would be at the track. I hadn't seen or heard from Jen in a while and was looking forward to a bit of catching up (unfortunately she was close to finishing when we arrived and got started). As I pulled into the parking lot of Lucy's school, I received a text from Sarah "What's the plan for today. Need to wrap my head around it, just not feeling the love from my bod". Oh crap. She is supposed to get me pumped up for this. If we both aren't feeling it, we could soooo bail on this. So I responded that I wasn't feeling it either, gave her the plan of 6 x 800s with a warm up and cool down and then said, "We can do this." Something about typing that made it believable. I knew I needed a little more motivation still. And I knew the only way to produce more motivation in my lazy state was by expressing gratitude. I began to speak out loud in my car "Thank you for the sunshine on this first day of March. Thank you for this friend I can run with. Thank you for the fact that nothing hurts or no injury lingers. Thank you for my health. Thank you for the gift of your life (in the spirit of the Lenten season, it is imperative we remember that gift)." As these words of gratitude echoed in my voice and in my ears, I could feel the motivation seep into my body. I arrived at the track and Sarah and I walked to the start. We mumbled our usual "OH. SO. TIRED...." bit, started our watches and began our warm up. The warm up ended and it was time to get down to business. Lap after lap clicked by and with the help of a brief recovery in between 800s, we seemed to get stronger, our times holding steady and sometimes even lower than anticipated. Before I knew it, we were on our 6th and final 800. The time went so fast. As I rounded the turn of wind pushing my chest, the sun shining brilliantly on the track and into the straight away for our final 200 meters, I said, once again, some words of gratitude in my head,
"Thank you for showing me the link between Heaven and Earth."
What I neglected to also say is that I love to write and I love to read. There isn't just one topic or type of reading I like to do either. Sure I love reading about running, but I also love reading about all kinds of other things. As a matter of fact, a bad habit of mine is that I assume that everyone else likes to read too. And I'm certain they like to read what I am currently fascinated with. So I send links. Lots of links to articles that I think others will like. The truth is, not everyone likes to read what I like to read. And even less do they like receiving links. Links suck.
I currently keep this blog that I started over a year ago to journal about this dream of mine... a goal I set for myself over three years ago. Hard to believe it's been that long, but it has. And I imagine often that when I reach it, I will go back and re-read this entire blog from start to finish and I will create a work of art intended for publication. Yes, my friends, a big dream of mine is to write a book. I imagine the title: "Holy SH*T, I've made it to Boston!" That would be awesome, but I don't think it would fly. So I'd have to come up with something else. It would have to be catchy though. I mean, who would buy a book about an average runner who ran a bunch of marathons and finally qualified? That just described a great big chunk of runners that make up the Boston Marathon field. And what if I don't qualify? Well that doesn't change the fact that I still love to write and I'd still love to write a book. That book could quite possibly be titled: "How I managed to beat my brother by a LOT in the Western States 100 ultramarathon." I can already read the forward by my good buddy, Brad Paisley (who doesn't know we are good buddies). He would talk about how there is a link between my running and his guitar playing. It really would/will be a great read.
So in other words, depending on the type of link in which we are referencing, they don't all suck.
There is a link between runners. A link that creates a pretty spectacular bond. Today was track day. Normally I don't shy away from track work, but today I just plain didn't want to do it. I could have easily talked myself out of going, but Sarah was meeting me. I figured she was itching to get in a good dose of speed considering we both have had a pretty off couple of weeks in regard to training. So I thought, "Just get it over with. It's only 6 x 800 meter repeats. Or rather it's only 1 x 800 meter repeat... done 5 more times. Yeah, that's much better. Just one." I also knew Jen would be at the track. I hadn't seen or heard from Jen in a while and was looking forward to a bit of catching up (unfortunately she was close to finishing when we arrived and got started). As I pulled into the parking lot of Lucy's school, I received a text from Sarah "What's the plan for today. Need to wrap my head around it, just not feeling the love from my bod". Oh crap. She is supposed to get me pumped up for this. If we both aren't feeling it, we could soooo bail on this. So I responded that I wasn't feeling it either, gave her the plan of 6 x 800s with a warm up and cool down and then said, "We can do this." Something about typing that made it believable. I knew I needed a little more motivation still. And I knew the only way to produce more motivation in my lazy state was by expressing gratitude. I began to speak out loud in my car "Thank you for the sunshine on this first day of March. Thank you for this friend I can run with. Thank you for the fact that nothing hurts or no injury lingers. Thank you for my health. Thank you for the gift of your life (in the spirit of the Lenten season, it is imperative we remember that gift)." As these words of gratitude echoed in my voice and in my ears, I could feel the motivation seep into my body. I arrived at the track and Sarah and I walked to the start. We mumbled our usual "OH. SO. TIRED...." bit, started our watches and began our warm up. The warm up ended and it was time to get down to business. Lap after lap clicked by and with the help of a brief recovery in between 800s, we seemed to get stronger, our times holding steady and sometimes even lower than anticipated. Before I knew it, we were on our 6th and final 800. The time went so fast. As I rounded the turn of wind pushing my chest, the sun shining brilliantly on the track and into the straight away for our final 200 meters, I said, once again, some words of gratitude in my head,
"Thank you for showing me the link between Heaven and Earth."
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Farewell to Elvis
Yesterday Emma turned eleven. She loves everything about having her birthday on Valentine's Day and fully enjoyed basking in all the attention that having a birthday on it brings. Besides getting her up and out the door for school in the morning, I didn't see her until dinner. She had play practice after school, which was immediately followed by basketball practice. I saw her at 6:30, sweaty and hungry. We sat down to dinner with the four grandparents and Emma talked excitedly about her day.
Birthdays in our house are a big deal... not in terms of gift getting, but it's the one day a year where everything goes your way. You get to have whatever you want for breakfast, lunch and dinner. You are exempt from chores and the spotlight is on you the entire day. John will argue that I "hate" his birthday and that I always end up yelling and in a fitful state, kind of like when he is sick. That is not true. I don't hate his birthday, it just happens to fall at a super inconvenient time of the year when our lives are the busiest. That's not my fault. His mother should have planned things better in terms of what time of year she had her baby. Anyway, our kids are always top dog on their birthdays. In a family of six, the spotlight isn't focused solely on you very often so I try to just give them that one day where it is. And they absolutely love their birthdays!
On Emma's tenth birthday, she asked for a hamster. I said "NO!", but as many of my friends and family members know, I often lose the battle of the pets to a husband who loves animals and loves to get them for our kids. To date, we have had a snake (dead), a sugar glider (dead), two poison dart frogs (one dead one sold back to the pet store), two cats (one confirmed dead and one brought to the SPCA for constantly peeing on my new basement carpet... so likely dead), two dogs (one dead and one who will be if he keeps peeing in my house... ok, Chessie is 8 and a wonderful dog that we love. I'll at least say that.), lizards (dead), multiple fish (dead), a bearded dragon (alive but I don't know how since Will only gives him crickets once in a blue moon). So when Emma asked for a hamster, the humane part of me said "Not happening." I've also heard that hamsters stink and stay awake all night running in their wheels and keeping everyone up. BUT, since Emma asked her dad, and her dad can't resist any request from Emma, the two of them set out last year to get a hamster on her birthday. I don't think hamsters are a big seller on Valentine's Day so they were back very quickly with a new baby hamster and the works to go with it... cage, ball, bedding, water thingy. Without batting an eyelash, Emma named him Elvis, which was so appropriate given her fascination with Elvis Presley and her Elvis themed birthday last year. I have to admit, much as I do not like rodents, and hamsters are no exception, the little guy was so tiny and cute. Emma spent hours the first few days holding him and coddling him. I figured this would soon end and she'd forget she had a hamster and the thing would stink up her room. But that did not happen.
All year long, Emma really took care of Elvis. She cleaned his cage without being asked, held him, talked to him, made arrangements for him when we went away on vacation. For Christmas, she asked Santa to bring him some accessories for his cage so he could have a little variety and something fun to play with. Good old Santa apparently can't say no to Emma either. Soon Elvis had a cage that could have been featured on MTV's "Cribs". And to give credit to Will, I do think he fed Phoenix, his bearded dragon, on Christmas. As for Elvis, if one could truly LOVE a hamster, then Elvis was loved.
I was in the kitchen last night as the kids were getting ready for bed. I was checking e-mail on my phone when I heard Emma come in and softly say "Mom" I half-heartedly replied without looking up and answered "Hmm?" She just stood there. I looked at her and she said "Elvis is dead." She wasn't crying and didn't have much of any expression at all so I said "Emma, seriously, are you joking?" Elvis keeps me up many nights banging around in his cage and the night before was no exception. He was eating string cheese out of her hand last night in the kitchen. "No, I'm not joking mom. I went to hold him and he was just lying in his cage and when I picked him up, he was so cold. He's dead mom." I saw her face begin to crinkle up and her eyes fill with tears. I immediately realized she was serious and I opened my arms. This little eleven year old suddenly wasn't so little. I have never seen Emma grief stricken. When Mitch died, she was just turning five and at that age, there is no comprehension of death's finality. Emma is not a child that cries easily. When she was younger, getting yelled at usually prompted a glare, not a cry. She is pretty stoic when it comes to sadness and I never really know how she will react to real grief. Last night I found out. She put her arms around me, buried her head under my arm and sobbed like I have never heard her do. Her little body shook as she cried. I just stood there, holding my precious girl thinking about the irony of it all and wondering why the hell Elvis couldn't wait just one more day. Why on her birthday? She had had such a perfect day. I also realized that nothing had prepared me for the realization that my kids are experiencing "adult" emotions when it comes to loss. It was awful to know I could do nothing to ease her grief. And I know that she will wake up this morning and ache to see Elvis in his cage, curled up in a ball and innocently sleeping after a wild night of keeping me up.
Now for the concerning part... if you think I have a hard time seeing my daughter in pain, imagine what John felt. He walked in the kitchen and I could see it in his eyes... we are going to end up having 3 baby hamsters by the end of today. I just KNOW it. How do I know this? Oh, I just do. And I fear I can do nothing to stop it.
It was interesting to see his reaction to Emma. You see, my girls hang the moon in John's eyes. They really do. And John is a pretty sensitive guy anyway and a guy who loves animals and critters. As a matter of fact, Elvis wasn't fully dead when he brought him down. He was motionless and cold and definitely on his way out, but he would take an occasional breath. I was thinking "Just put the poor thing out of his misery already." But no, John put Elvis in his shirt pocket, where it was warm. He probably thought the combination of warmth and the sound of a human heartbeat would magically cure this near dead hamster. John proceeds to walk around with Elvis in his pocket for awhile. He then brings him over to our vent and wraps him up, no lie, in Emma's fleece heart blanket and places him near the vent in our room, where he remains as I type only three feet away from me. And I'm not checking his pulse this morning. God help me if Elvis were to move or something. I would freak out.
Last night it also occurred to me how grown up Will is. He reacted very much like John. He was quiet and stayed kind of out of the way. He watched Emma and I could tell he just didn't know what to say to her. I could tell he felt so bad for her but just didn't know what to do.
I have lots to think about on my run today. These solo days are when I really get deep into my head and pick apart what's going on in my life. Today will likely bring a few tears as I think about Emma's grief, Will's maturity, John's tenderness and the prospect of a houseful of baby hamsters... God help me!
Birthdays in our house are a big deal... not in terms of gift getting, but it's the one day a year where everything goes your way. You get to have whatever you want for breakfast, lunch and dinner. You are exempt from chores and the spotlight is on you the entire day. John will argue that I "hate" his birthday and that I always end up yelling and in a fitful state, kind of like when he is sick. That is not true. I don't hate his birthday, it just happens to fall at a super inconvenient time of the year when our lives are the busiest. That's not my fault. His mother should have planned things better in terms of what time of year she had her baby. Anyway, our kids are always top dog on their birthdays. In a family of six, the spotlight isn't focused solely on you very often so I try to just give them that one day where it is. And they absolutely love their birthdays!
On Emma's tenth birthday, she asked for a hamster. I said "NO!", but as many of my friends and family members know, I often lose the battle of the pets to a husband who loves animals and loves to get them for our kids. To date, we have had a snake (dead), a sugar glider (dead), two poison dart frogs (one dead one sold back to the pet store), two cats (one confirmed dead and one brought to the SPCA for constantly peeing on my new basement carpet... so likely dead), two dogs (one dead and one who will be if he keeps peeing in my house... ok, Chessie is 8 and a wonderful dog that we love. I'll at least say that.), lizards (dead), multiple fish (dead), a bearded dragon (alive but I don't know how since Will only gives him crickets once in a blue moon). So when Emma asked for a hamster, the humane part of me said "Not happening." I've also heard that hamsters stink and stay awake all night running in their wheels and keeping everyone up. BUT, since Emma asked her dad, and her dad can't resist any request from Emma, the two of them set out last year to get a hamster on her birthday. I don't think hamsters are a big seller on Valentine's Day so they were back very quickly with a new baby hamster and the works to go with it... cage, ball, bedding, water thingy. Without batting an eyelash, Emma named him Elvis, which was so appropriate given her fascination with Elvis Presley and her Elvis themed birthday last year. I have to admit, much as I do not like rodents, and hamsters are no exception, the little guy was so tiny and cute. Emma spent hours the first few days holding him and coddling him. I figured this would soon end and she'd forget she had a hamster and the thing would stink up her room. But that did not happen.
All year long, Emma really took care of Elvis. She cleaned his cage without being asked, held him, talked to him, made arrangements for him when we went away on vacation. For Christmas, she asked Santa to bring him some accessories for his cage so he could have a little variety and something fun to play with. Good old Santa apparently can't say no to Emma either. Soon Elvis had a cage that could have been featured on MTV's "Cribs". And to give credit to Will, I do think he fed Phoenix, his bearded dragon, on Christmas. As for Elvis, if one could truly LOVE a hamster, then Elvis was loved.
I was in the kitchen last night as the kids were getting ready for bed. I was checking e-mail on my phone when I heard Emma come in and softly say "Mom" I half-heartedly replied without looking up and answered "Hmm?" She just stood there. I looked at her and she said "Elvis is dead." She wasn't crying and didn't have much of any expression at all so I said "Emma, seriously, are you joking?" Elvis keeps me up many nights banging around in his cage and the night before was no exception. He was eating string cheese out of her hand last night in the kitchen. "No, I'm not joking mom. I went to hold him and he was just lying in his cage and when I picked him up, he was so cold. He's dead mom." I saw her face begin to crinkle up and her eyes fill with tears. I immediately realized she was serious and I opened my arms. This little eleven year old suddenly wasn't so little. I have never seen Emma grief stricken. When Mitch died, she was just turning five and at that age, there is no comprehension of death's finality. Emma is not a child that cries easily. When she was younger, getting yelled at usually prompted a glare, not a cry. She is pretty stoic when it comes to sadness and I never really know how she will react to real grief. Last night I found out. She put her arms around me, buried her head under my arm and sobbed like I have never heard her do. Her little body shook as she cried. I just stood there, holding my precious girl thinking about the irony of it all and wondering why the hell Elvis couldn't wait just one more day. Why on her birthday? She had had such a perfect day. I also realized that nothing had prepared me for the realization that my kids are experiencing "adult" emotions when it comes to loss. It was awful to know I could do nothing to ease her grief. And I know that she will wake up this morning and ache to see Elvis in his cage, curled up in a ball and innocently sleeping after a wild night of keeping me up.
Now for the concerning part... if you think I have a hard time seeing my daughter in pain, imagine what John felt. He walked in the kitchen and I could see it in his eyes... we are going to end up having 3 baby hamsters by the end of today. I just KNOW it. How do I know this? Oh, I just do. And I fear I can do nothing to stop it.
It was interesting to see his reaction to Emma. You see, my girls hang the moon in John's eyes. They really do. And John is a pretty sensitive guy anyway and a guy who loves animals and critters. As a matter of fact, Elvis wasn't fully dead when he brought him down. He was motionless and cold and definitely on his way out, but he would take an occasional breath. I was thinking "Just put the poor thing out of his misery already." But no, John put Elvis in his shirt pocket, where it was warm. He probably thought the combination of warmth and the sound of a human heartbeat would magically cure this near dead hamster. John proceeds to walk around with Elvis in his pocket for awhile. He then brings him over to our vent and wraps him up, no lie, in Emma's fleece heart blanket and places him near the vent in our room, where he remains as I type only three feet away from me. And I'm not checking his pulse this morning. God help me if Elvis were to move or something. I would freak out.
Last night it also occurred to me how grown up Will is. He reacted very much like John. He was quiet and stayed kind of out of the way. He watched Emma and I could tell he just didn't know what to say to her. I could tell he felt so bad for her but just didn't know what to do.
I have lots to think about on my run today. These solo days are when I really get deep into my head and pick apart what's going on in my life. Today will likely bring a few tears as I think about Emma's grief, Will's maturity, John's tenderness and the prospect of a houseful of baby hamsters... God help me!
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| Baby Elvis and Emma... February 14, 2011 |
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Love is..
I am SURE you have heard the question over and over "What is love?", and a million and a half cheesy explanations for this thing you cannot touch, but only feel. And I don't think I've ever had the desire to sit down and actually define MY definition of. But this morning, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I finally can honestly define what love is. So here goes.... love in my terms.
Love is:
Missing my morning run due to ice when I already feel fat and the scale has not so nicely confirmed it. Going back to bed for two hours and waking up to breakfast made by Jack and Lucy, even though I carbed up pretty good a few hours earlier in anticipation of a killer morning long run. Proceeding to eat EVERY BITE of a very salty omelet, cereal with 2% milk and a large cup of extremely weak, luke warm coffee with a pound of whipped cream on top (I think Jack pushes the "brew" button twice on the Keurig when he makes me coffee and it runs through the same pack of coffee... gosh that shit is WEAK). And when I say every bite, I do mean it. And I did it because two faces were sitting there watching and smiling and anticipating my reaction. Kairos time/moment.
John I hope this makes you smile. I know you only read my blogs at work and Monday is not your favorite day of the week.
Love is:
Missing my morning run due to ice when I already feel fat and the scale has not so nicely confirmed it. Going back to bed for two hours and waking up to breakfast made by Jack and Lucy, even though I carbed up pretty good a few hours earlier in anticipation of a killer morning long run. Proceeding to eat EVERY BITE of a very salty omelet, cereal with 2% milk and a large cup of extremely weak, luke warm coffee with a pound of whipped cream on top (I think Jack pushes the "brew" button twice on the Keurig when he makes me coffee and it runs through the same pack of coffee... gosh that shit is WEAK). And when I say every bite, I do mean it. And I did it because two faces were sitting there watching and smiling and anticipating my reaction. Kairos time/moment.
John I hope this makes you smile. I know you only read my blogs at work and Monday is not your favorite day of the week.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Oh HILL!
I am going to tackle the subject of hill running in this post. Two things are motivating me to do so (ok three... I'm buying time until coffee has settled enough for my morning "recovery" run). The other two are people. One is a girl I am currently coaching to run her first half marathon in none other but... the Flying Pig Marathon and the other is... well, she knows who she is. She reads this blog, she hates hill running and oh, btw, she too is running the Flying Pig Marathon and using it as a Boston Qualifier.
So there it is. Right off the bat, these two lovely ladies have a disadvantage going into their races. It's not a physical disadvantage. Or a disadvantage in the sense of inadequate training. It is a disadvantage because they have labeled themselves as runners who hate hills and the self fulfilling prophecy WILL surface during that race. And that three mile incline threatens to be the demise of their race day goals, unless they change their attitude about hill running.
I like running hills. Let's clarify... running hills is not enjoyable. It does not feel good to me. Going uphill hurts and is often very, VERY difficult, especially when it's a quarter mile steep climb immediately into the run... so essentially, your warm up (think Carolina Pines Drive or West Road, Harrison runners...). But I have learned to view hill running in a very different light. First off, I can't worry about pace while running uphill. I think more about strategy and how to tackle the task at hand. I already know I'm not going to hit race pace while running a steep uphill and if I try, I know I'm screwing myself for the end miles of my run (unless the actual workout is hill repeats). Secondly, I already know it's temporary. There is relief at the top. I can do anything for 2 minutes or 3 minutes or whatever. Then I get to recover. Again, I rarely think beyond the hill. This sounds so simple, but yet has worked wonders in getting me to change the way I think of hills. Finally, I know that running hills aids in becoming a faster and stronger runner. Now I realize that just because it sounds simple, doesn't mean adopting a new attitude is simple. But when you do, your training and enthusiasm will explode.... and I realize that sounds flowery and barfingly too positive.. but IT. IS. THE. TRUTH!! Running hills also helps develop a colorful vocabulary :)
And sure, metaphorically speaking, you can look at running hills like you look at life's challenges. Yesterday I was smack in the middle of the last hill on Strimple. It was really hard and I was tired. I asked Suttan if she wanted me to start yelling out metaphors about how running uphill was symbolic for life's tough times. Pretty sure she was giving me the 'ol "GFY" in her mind. I was cracking up in my mind (I was the only one laughing... pretty sure Sarah wasn't laughing). But it was because I needed SOMETHING to get me up there. Right then, humor did the trick. Use whatever mind voodoo works for you.
Let us not forget that this is a choice. It is not a duty, a responsibility, a job or a life dependent activity. It is a choice and a gift to be able to train like this. To be out running on a cold and beautiful morning with friends is one of my most favorite things in life, even if it isn't physically easy on that particular day. No more grumpy training for me. Take the choice to train out of your hands and I guarantee you will never look at it the same. Last year's stress fracture zapped a new perspective into me like nothing else.
Now, who's up for Marvin hill repeats tomorrow at 6:20?
Happy Birthday to my beautiful and amazing mother, who reads my blog and at times must wonder where she went wrong :) I love you, mom. Thanks for making it possible for me to run races and do what I love!
So there it is. Right off the bat, these two lovely ladies have a disadvantage going into their races. It's not a physical disadvantage. Or a disadvantage in the sense of inadequate training. It is a disadvantage because they have labeled themselves as runners who hate hills and the self fulfilling prophecy WILL surface during that race. And that three mile incline threatens to be the demise of their race day goals, unless they change their attitude about hill running.
I like running hills. Let's clarify... running hills is not enjoyable. It does not feel good to me. Going uphill hurts and is often very, VERY difficult, especially when it's a quarter mile steep climb immediately into the run... so essentially, your warm up (think Carolina Pines Drive or West Road, Harrison runners...). But I have learned to view hill running in a very different light. First off, I can't worry about pace while running uphill. I think more about strategy and how to tackle the task at hand. I already know I'm not going to hit race pace while running a steep uphill and if I try, I know I'm screwing myself for the end miles of my run (unless the actual workout is hill repeats). Secondly, I already know it's temporary. There is relief at the top. I can do anything for 2 minutes or 3 minutes or whatever. Then I get to recover. Again, I rarely think beyond the hill. This sounds so simple, but yet has worked wonders in getting me to change the way I think of hills. Finally, I know that running hills aids in becoming a faster and stronger runner. Now I realize that just because it sounds simple, doesn't mean adopting a new attitude is simple. But when you do, your training and enthusiasm will explode.... and I realize that sounds flowery and barfingly too positive.. but IT. IS. THE. TRUTH!! Running hills also helps develop a colorful vocabulary :)
And sure, metaphorically speaking, you can look at running hills like you look at life's challenges. Yesterday I was smack in the middle of the last hill on Strimple. It was really hard and I was tired. I asked Suttan if she wanted me to start yelling out metaphors about how running uphill was symbolic for life's tough times. Pretty sure she was giving me the 'ol "GFY" in her mind. I was cracking up in my mind (I was the only one laughing... pretty sure Sarah wasn't laughing). But it was because I needed SOMETHING to get me up there. Right then, humor did the trick. Use whatever mind voodoo works for you.
Let us not forget that this is a choice. It is not a duty, a responsibility, a job or a life dependent activity. It is a choice and a gift to be able to train like this. To be out running on a cold and beautiful morning with friends is one of my most favorite things in life, even if it isn't physically easy on that particular day. No more grumpy training for me. Take the choice to train out of your hands and I guarantee you will never look at it the same. Last year's stress fracture zapped a new perspective into me like nothing else.
Now, who's up for Marvin hill repeats tomorrow at 6:20?
Happy Birthday to my beautiful and amazing mother, who reads my blog and at times must wonder where she went wrong :) I love you, mom. Thanks for making it possible for me to run races and do what I love!
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Back Peddling
If we write our dreams and goals down, we dramatically increase our odds of realization. If we share them with others, they become potent and alive. --- Kristin Armstrong.
And because of that very true sentence, I will write down my dreams and goals as they are right now. Sometimes people are afraid to do that. Heck, sometimes I am afraid to do that.... to share what I'm hoping to do or accomplish in a given time frame. Because once it's out there, what if it doesn't unfold? What if I don't get what I'm after? There is something to be said about the attempt though.
This has been a week of dramatic realization for me. I know some people struggling with life's sucker punches right now and hard as I have tried, it is impossible to feel even remotely what they are feeling. I have found myself in a funk after Christmas like so many people often do. And although January of 2012 has been quite awesome as far as weather goes, particularly for running, it is just always such a dismal month. I find myself whining more, irritated with kids, salespersons, telemarketers, other drivers, ect.. much more than usual. It's normal, it's cyclic, but it's got to stop. Giving control of my emotions to things like what month it may be, is just stupid and a horrible waste of time. Sarah and I talked about this very thing yesterday while running. I was telling her about the tragic outcome of a family friend's pregnancy. Meanwhile, I'm complaining about all kinds of various little insignificant "problems" in my life. We talked about how unfair it sometimes is that some people get a tremendous amount of burden in life, while others seemingly do not. I know I've touched on this before and have always felt strongly that as one who has not, there is a great responsibility to ease the pain of those who have, if even by just a small note. Lately I have been living in a cocoon of selfishness. Not reaching out to those in need. I've heard of one tragedy after another... house fires, complicated pregnancies, relationships troubled or crumbling, family pets that have had to be put down... and the list goes on. These are not just people I hear about, but people in my community, people who are friends.. people who mean something to me. I have not been unaffected by their problems, but I haven't tripped over myself offering help either. This bothers me. Because this is not who am nor who I want to become. The person that says "Oh jeez, that sucks. I am really sorry for what you are going through..." and then carries on with my own life. I have the time to extend myself further, and so I should.
This brings me to the part about putting out there dreams and goals. Maybe it's turning 40 this year. Or maybe it's the sadness that surrounds some people that I know. Or maybe it's KNOWING that I have so much more left than a 50 mile jaunt. But yes, I would love to attempt... ok, make that FINISH... a 100 mile ultra marathon. Ok, I KNOW I said that I would never, ever do it (hence the title). Please don't refer me to my recap of Burning River where I said "NO WAY". Don't do that. I am already admitting that I was wrong. There seems to be this weird sense of needing to challenge myself to get through the hardest thing I've ever done. And a 100 mile race on foot is much more a mental challenge than it is a physical one (although I expect to physically have the shit beaten out of me). I expect that by a certain mile, I will hate running and everything it stands for. And if I can give in to the temptation of stopping or quitting and press on, I imagine this will symbolize a strength I unknowingly possess that will come in handy some day when I need to get through any challenge thrown my way. That is why some people do these extreme tests of physical endurance. It's certainly not about burning calories or exercise. It's about getting to the core of who you are when faced with a terrific challenge. It's about how you handle yourself, how you treat the people around you that are there to help. When Jack was stripped down to sheer exhaustion and sickness at Burning River, I saw the core of who he was. Much as I make fun of him for being "Mr. Positive", I can't tell you how much I admire that man. How much his enthusiasm and thankfulness to all who came out to help him was apparent even during his toughest miles. Compare that to trying to have a pleasant conversation with yours truly at 9 pm when I'm tired. Makes me feel pretty pathetic.
So there it is. Out there in black and white. My goals (not just for 2012, but for always): To be more aware and compassionate of the burdens of others and offer help or kindness in any way and to run 100 miles.
Just two goals. That seems pretty doable.
And because of that very true sentence, I will write down my dreams and goals as they are right now. Sometimes people are afraid to do that. Heck, sometimes I am afraid to do that.... to share what I'm hoping to do or accomplish in a given time frame. Because once it's out there, what if it doesn't unfold? What if I don't get what I'm after? There is something to be said about the attempt though.
This has been a week of dramatic realization for me. I know some people struggling with life's sucker punches right now and hard as I have tried, it is impossible to feel even remotely what they are feeling. I have found myself in a funk after Christmas like so many people often do. And although January of 2012 has been quite awesome as far as weather goes, particularly for running, it is just always such a dismal month. I find myself whining more, irritated with kids, salespersons, telemarketers, other drivers, ect.. much more than usual. It's normal, it's cyclic, but it's got to stop. Giving control of my emotions to things like what month it may be, is just stupid and a horrible waste of time. Sarah and I talked about this very thing yesterday while running. I was telling her about the tragic outcome of a family friend's pregnancy. Meanwhile, I'm complaining about all kinds of various little insignificant "problems" in my life. We talked about how unfair it sometimes is that some people get a tremendous amount of burden in life, while others seemingly do not. I know I've touched on this before and have always felt strongly that as one who has not, there is a great responsibility to ease the pain of those who have, if even by just a small note. Lately I have been living in a cocoon of selfishness. Not reaching out to those in need. I've heard of one tragedy after another... house fires, complicated pregnancies, relationships troubled or crumbling, family pets that have had to be put down... and the list goes on. These are not just people I hear about, but people in my community, people who are friends.. people who mean something to me. I have not been unaffected by their problems, but I haven't tripped over myself offering help either. This bothers me. Because this is not who am nor who I want to become. The person that says "Oh jeez, that sucks. I am really sorry for what you are going through..." and then carries on with my own life. I have the time to extend myself further, and so I should.
This brings me to the part about putting out there dreams and goals. Maybe it's turning 40 this year. Or maybe it's the sadness that surrounds some people that I know. Or maybe it's KNOWING that I have so much more left than a 50 mile jaunt. But yes, I would love to attempt... ok, make that FINISH... a 100 mile ultra marathon. Ok, I KNOW I said that I would never, ever do it (hence the title). Please don't refer me to my recap of Burning River where I said "NO WAY". Don't do that. I am already admitting that I was wrong. There seems to be this weird sense of needing to challenge myself to get through the hardest thing I've ever done. And a 100 mile race on foot is much more a mental challenge than it is a physical one (although I expect to physically have the shit beaten out of me). I expect that by a certain mile, I will hate running and everything it stands for. And if I can give in to the temptation of stopping or quitting and press on, I imagine this will symbolize a strength I unknowingly possess that will come in handy some day when I need to get through any challenge thrown my way. That is why some people do these extreme tests of physical endurance. It's certainly not about burning calories or exercise. It's about getting to the core of who you are when faced with a terrific challenge. It's about how you handle yourself, how you treat the people around you that are there to help. When Jack was stripped down to sheer exhaustion and sickness at Burning River, I saw the core of who he was. Much as I make fun of him for being "Mr. Positive", I can't tell you how much I admire that man. How much his enthusiasm and thankfulness to all who came out to help him was apparent even during his toughest miles. Compare that to trying to have a pleasant conversation with yours truly at 9 pm when I'm tired. Makes me feel pretty pathetic.
So there it is. Out there in black and white. My goals (not just for 2012, but for always): To be more aware and compassionate of the burdens of others and offer help or kindness in any way and to run 100 miles.
Just two goals. That seems pretty doable.
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