Rainbows and Resolutions

We discovered that our tent was in the lowest part of the campground after the first night. We moved everything out of our tent and attempted to dry it off with our beach towels in the bright morning sun. This set the stage for the remainder of our honeymoon, in which each day followed suit with a night-time rainstorm and beautiful days spent drying everything out again. We had an air mattress to sleep on, so at least we could keep ourselves dry. It was not the honeymoon we would have signed up for.  Many people might have considered it ruined, or bickered about who's idea this was. Many would probably have even cut it short. But we made fun memories that week. We made the most of the sunshine with deep sea fishing and sunning on the beach. When we talk about that little vacation, even memories of those rainy nights make us smile, because it was all part of a grand adventure.

After the last few months, this Christmas season was very much like the rainbow after a heavy rainstorm. I would say this has been the most enjoyable Christmas ever. It was very relaxing and drama-free. We isolated ourselves, just our immediate family, and did not succumb to the pressures of the expectations of others. It felt like we were on vacation. Instead of getting all stressed out trying to please people we only see at holidays, we focused on spending quality time with those who love us all year long. It may be controversial, but I think this is how it should be.

I'm not much for New Year's Resolutions. In the past I have enjoyed telling people that my resolution was to quit smoking. The idea was that someone would say "but you don't smoke", so I could reply, "exactly, so this resolution is sure to be a success!" Nobody really caught on, though, and that conversation never actually happened the way I imagined it would.

This year I have a good one. I'm not calling it a resolution, though - more of an objective. My objective for this year is to stop looking for validation and approval from others. I think this is where I went wrong over the last year. I have given people too much power over me in that way, and now I'm taking it back.

My hubby said it best, without saying a word, when he gave me one of my Christmas gifts - a 13.1 magnet for my car. With that gesture, he gave me all the validation and approval I needed. He told me he was proud of me, and made me feel proud of myself. I don't need validation from anyone else. I already have it from those who love me all year long. I love my family. They are where my heart is. <3

Peace

We walked outside and looked up at the giant expanse of stars. Their abundance and clarity took my breath away. It is amazing what you can see without light. In town where we live now (the "city" as I call it, though it really isn't), we would never see so many stars with the intrusion of street lights and other light pollution. But when we lived in the cabin in the mountains, set apart from the rat race, we could see this on any clear night. On this occasion, my husband was pointing out things he had been learning in his "Observing the Summer Sky" class. He really enjoys sharing what he has learned, especially if it's science or nature. Sometimes, today I long for a place to go where I can have such a clear view of that vast, peaceful, breathtaking, sparkling, night sky. It's still there, I just need to step away from the distractions to find it.

When I had the panic attack, I felt like I was pinned down to my chair. We were in a prayer meeting (we have those where I work). Everyone had just bowed their heads to pray and it hit me hard. I had an overwhelming urge to flee. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I kept opening my eyes to try to push away the images that were flooding my mind. Images of a crime I never witnessed, but heard too much about. I don't know what was said in the prayer meeting because I was too busy fighting - really fighting. Tears were rolling down my cheeks even though my eyes were squeezed shut as tightly as I could squeeze them. It was terrifying.

Almost a week ago I had a similar, yet opposite experience. I was visiting a church that one of my boot camp friends goes to and they were singing songs. (Fun fact: all music is a capella at that church. No instruments.) I didn't know the songs but something in the words hit me. Something about God's Son dying. It was the realization that, through all my anger and grief over that little girl being killed in our neighborhood, God not only knew how I felt, but how her mother felt. He knew exactly what it felt like to lose a child. I couldn't say to God, "but You don't understand!" And I wasn't alone.

I felt like all that weight was lifted off of me and I felt like I could just melt into a heap in my chair. I didn't want to run, but I was fighting tears. I really didn't want anyone to see me and think I was crying because I didn't like their singing. It was a healing moment for me. I felt like I was able to let it go and move forward.

Christmas is just over a week away and my prayer is that Skylar's mother is surrounded by love and peace and all the happy memories she has of her little girl, who's spending this Christmas in heaven.

Grasshopper

I walked out to the end of the dock with the "battleship" I had made by hammering nails into scrap pieces of wood. In my other hand was a poor, unsuspecting grasshopper, struggling to free himself from my grasp. I knelt on the dock and reached down to place the battleship on the water, then set the grasshopper on top to captain his new ship. It took a few tries to convince my little friend to stay on board - it could have been exhaustion that finally won him over. After all, an insect is no match for an eleven-year-old tomboy on a mission. I laid on my stomach on the dock and gave the ship a gentle push, then rested my chin on my hands while I watched it drift away. I would have supplied the captain with oars had I thought he'd appreciate the gift, but I knew better. His path was now up to the wind and chance.

This year has been full of very high highs and very low lows. I've experienced the exhilaration of setting and reaching big goals. I've faced, though not necessarily conquered fears. I've been horrified by a neighborhood tragedy that introduced me to my first bout of real depression, and my first real panic attack. I've had friends who endured, friends who only passed through, and friends who were never real to begin with. The best times always had to do with my family and my friends - the real ones.

The worst times always came down to my search for control in an out-of-control world. People say it all the time. Life is messy. For some reason, when I hear that, the version of "messy" that comes to my mind is more like a kitchen after a baking spree. A mess that is obviously going to result in something wonderful that is already starting to smell delicious. A mess that a little time and elbow grease will clean up good as new. In reality, life's messiness is not nearly as fun. There may be disappointment, heartache, pain, and devastating loss. It does not smell delicious. It usually stinks.

I've struggled with my faith a lot over the last year. I've been angry at God, angry at people, and often angry at myself. While I'm told - and I know deep down - that God is in control and that He knows where all of this is going, I have been constantly battling the nagging question, can He really be trusted?

He is consistently holding on to me while I've been struggling and fighting against Him every step of the way. I'm sure that, in His own way, he's whispering to me, "be still little Grasshopper, I've got you."

Branches in the Path

I followed Pikachu and Ash Ketchum around the neighborhood, marveling at the havoc that had been created by the unseasonal snowstorm. Never before had the little costumed kiddos been able to hold their trick or treat bag in one hand and a snowball in the other. Neighbors had gathered the fallen branches into piles along the curb so the children would have clear paths for walking, but there were still puddles of melted snow to contend with. It was not the path we were used to and we had to slow down a bit and take our time. Some paths are like that. You might know the way but for a brief time, you need to slow down and protect yourself.

I was not at all excited about taking the kids out for Halloween this year. All I could think about what how little we know our neighbors. My mind kept returning to the tragedy of the little girl who was murdered just two blocks from our house a few months ago. The killer was her neighbor. But, for the sake of my children's happiness, I took them out and watched them very carefully, just as I always have.

After a while I started to feel a little better about our neighborhood. The kids were seeing lots of friends from school. Very kind grown-ups were handing out candy and looking very amused by the various costumes. Some adults even answered the door in costume themselves. That evening was an exercise in facing my fears, which is something I need to work on. I have many of them.

Other than that night, I've been pretty quiet lately. I have not been myself and quite a few people have noticed. I have little interest in the things that usually interest me. I read through a list of symptoms of depression and many of the symptoms fit. I can't pinpoint a reason, or a trigger, or a cure. If it were someone else, I would give them sound wisdom to "find your happy" or "cheer up" or "count your blessings" or "snap out of it."

I suppose this is where I learn why I would be wrong.

I made a snide little joke to myself the other day - I found a way to get peace and quiet, just be depressed and your friends will scatter.  I think when someone is going through a tough time, people are going to have one of three possible reactions. Say nothing. Say the wrong thing. Say just enough and be patient.

I can tell you without hesitation that my response would be one of the first two. I avoid uncomfortable situations like the plague. I don't trust myself to talk and when I do think I have something wise to say, it's usually wrong.

In my case, I have found that it hurts to hear how I'm disappointing someone - they won't use those words but in an effort to help me snap out of it they will chastise me on how my situation is affecting others or that they expect more from me.

Oddly I have not felt abandoned by those who have been quiet. And the ones who said "just enough" were the ones who said. "I'm here if you need to talk," but asked nothing of me. I wish I could just jot all this down for future reference and let this life lesson be over, but I suspect it will take a little more time until I'm feeling like myself again.

I also suspect that the tragedy of Skylar Kaufmann has affected me more than I ever realized. It shook my sense of security and brought all my worst fears to the surface. And maybe the approaching Halloween season - thinking of children out mingling with neighbors - was the storm that littered Stoney's Path with debris.

Before Dawn

The flashlight I held did very little to guide me. I only used it to see my husband's feet so I would know where to step as I followed him through the darkness. He had a better light, and a better idea of where we were going. I trust him completely and felt no need to look around to get my bearings. I wouldn't be able to see anything anyway. We reached the designated tree and he cleared a nice comfortable spot for me in the most chivalrous fashion. I sat and leaned on the tree to wait. In the distance I saw a small light. Another hunter had set up and it made me nervous, but we knew he saw our lights as we approached. It was far enough away and we had our blaze orange on so we would be safe. As shapes of trees and rocks emerged from the darkness into a hazy dawn, a startling blast of shots rang out. Shooting hours had begun. We heard pellets rain down all around us and realized that the other hunters were less safety conscious than we were.

Last week one of my friends came up to me and told me a little story. She told me that she had seen her doctor about a year ago for depression. She told me what medication he prescribed and how it had really helped her. Other people who know me have been showing a little extra concern for my well-being. Friends and coworkers asking if I'm ok, telling me I don't look well. (Gee thanks).

I wouldn't call myself depressed. It's not me, it's my circumstances. It's not me, it's other people.

Right?

I dodge the questions. I try to turn it around and get them talking about themselves, or somehow distance myself from them. The last thing I want is to be that person who brings everyone down with her. Nobody needs to follow me into this dark place where my fears and insecurities live.

There are sources from where all this self-doubt comes. There are sources of the hailstorm of negative thoughts raining down around me. Those who do not have my best interest at heart, but their own. Those who want their own trophies at all costs, no matter who runs away crying and injured. And I'm not the only target.

I should be feeling pretty good about myself. I accomplished something big a few days ago. But it does little to repair my fractured self-worth. I don't even feel worthy of telling anyone about the accomplishment. I'm avoiding people. I'm closing in. I just need a little time to navigate this darkness on my own. It's only temporary.

Only What You Need

The nest was enormous. I wondered how many of them could fit in it at one time. I was told that bald eagles reuse the same nest year after year and continue to build onto it, making it bigger and bigger. It amuses me to think that this bird could be a feathered version of what we humans call a hoarder. On the other hand, it must be that much more traumatic to find themselves in need of a new nest and completely starting over, with all new materials and nothing carried over from their original home.

People like to pose the question, "if your house were on fire and you could only go back in to get one thing, and your family and pets are safe, what would you get?" I avoid answering that question because it makes me uncomfortable to think about. I do not have an answer.

A few days ago I stood next to a good friend, watching as she helplessly tried to make that decision for real. Her house was not on fire, but she had a limited time to gather what she felt she needed, as two uniformed officers kept a watchful eye on her abusive husband. She was escaping.

My husband and I were there with her for support, but we felt powerless to help her in any other way. How were we to know what things had sentimental value? She looked so vulnerable and lost, trying to determine the difference between "need" and "want". It was eye-opening, to say the least.

While there is no sense of urgency, it is easy for me to take a mental inventory of my possessions and reason that I could live without all of them as long as my family is safe with me. But in a crisis, what would I not want to live without?

For whatever reason, I can spend hours contemplating this and never come up with an answer. So why is my house so cluttered?

Just One Reason

The picture takes me back to that day. I took it while fishing at a friend's pond, sitting on the grass, casually watching my line. A dragonfly had landed on the tip of my rod and I had always heard that was good luck. It made me happy to see, and I somehow managed to get a picture without scaring it away. Beyond the dragonfly, you can see the still water and a clear reflection of the trees and clouds. It was a shot even more beautiful than I had expected. All I saw at the time was right in front of me but that one little focal point led me to something even bigger and better.

I stood there in the bathroom at 4:15 in the morning without an ounce of motivation or courage. Everything in me wanted to get back into bed and postpone this decision another day - or week. It was the first day of DDIP, session 25 and I didn't want to go. The only reason I set the alarm was because I knew that I will want to go later. I know this funk is temporary. I know it because this is not who I am. I am optimistic and energetic and cheerful. I don't recognize this sad, dejected, lonely side of myself.

I just needed one reason to take the next step. Standing there in my workout pants and sports bra - vacillating between the red DDIP shirt and my pajamas - I took a long look in the mirror.

Just one reason.

I liked what I was seeing in the mirror. It was much more attractive than what I saw there a year ago. I saw some definition and curves, better posture... It struck me that every bit of this change came as a result of DDIP. With that realization and a hint of determination, I took the next step and joined my friends for session 25.

My heart wasn't in it but I put every bit of strength I had into that class. Some friends noticed I was not myself but only by the expression (or lack thereof) on my face. My body was engaged and fully participating. I felt stronger than I expected to, and knew I had made the right choice.

This morning I still felt a little bit down and I was getting annoyed with my pathetic self. Enough is enough. I decided to take charge of my day. I'm not going to let this depression control me anymore.

I wonder where the phrase "take the bull by the horns" came from. We say it all the time when we talk about taking charge of a situation but I've been really thinking about that phrase today. There is more to it than will, I think. I imagine if I were to actually take a bull by the horns, he might have some sort of response to that. I may have to hold on pretty tightly to keep that hold and to keep from getting hurt. I may be in for a fight. Maybe the phrase doesn't mean taking charge so much as it means fighting and not giving up.

I could be wrong - I know very little about bulls and their horns - but fighting is better than moping so that's what I will do.

Gathering

My gaze kept wandering above the computer monitor and through the window in front of my desk. The tree just outside my second floor office provides a much needed mental escape from the stress of work, but sometimes becomes a distraction. Especially today, with the squirrels scampering over the branches, gathering their sustenance to store for winter. I look forward to watching the seasons change through that window, seeing those leaves change color and let go to cascade to the ground. Winter is not my favorite but when the buds start to form on those branches to announce the arrival of spring, I will be among the first to notice.

I've been going through a season of discontent lately. Not with my family but with pretty much everything else. It seems that, after months of building up to a big event - of working hard toward lofty goals - there is a crash that comes after the high of success.

And the low of disappointment.

You see, there were two goals. One was the half marathon. I shared that with most people - and everyone here in this blog. The other was a personal, secret goal, that only a select few knew about. It was an unreasonable goal to be sure. Any goal that depends on anything outside yourself is unreasonable. If it requires hard work, dedication, commitment, and perseverance - anything is possible. But if it requires someone else's approval - it is not a goal. It is simply a desire, which carries no guarantee.

I've been terribly unmotivated lately. I have not gone running - not with any sincerity anyway. I tried a different kind of workout last week, hoping to break through this funk. The first day was fantastic and I thought I may have found a new love. But the following days and the soreness that accompanied them only served to drag me further into defeat. My confidence has taken a serious hit.

It's more than just working out. More than exercises and running and training. I am facing a feeling of disapproval from other sources... like my boss. He would deny it but truth doesn't make much of an impact when you are being held down by your emotions. I feel like nothing I do is right. A compliment followed by fifteen criticisms is hard to remember. I am exaggerating, it's not really like that. But it feels that way.

I have to make a decision before I go to bed tonight and I honestly do not know what I will choose. Gather what's left of my resolve and move forward with the optimism that I will find my confidence again - or move in a different direction altogether?

The First Half

I saw it out of the corner of my eye and gasped. I tried to show KC, who had other things on her mind, like getting to the finish line sometime today. Cutest little frog, though, hopping around, oblivious to the fact that it was so tiny and there were gigantic (comparatively speaking) people running by. Sort of how I felt as the first place runner lapped us while we were still on our first loop. Small fish in a big pond. Our first half marathon.

All our weeks of training led to this one moment in time. Sunday was the Sloppy Cuckoo half marathon trail run. We arrived, excited and ready for the big adventure. We had been promised a challenging course to begin with, but the latest update included a revised course map which cut out a flat section (THE flat section) of the trail due to recent storm damage. Instead of a figure 8, the course was now two 6.55 mile loops. Yikes, the dreaded pass-the-car-and-keep-running plan. But we felt ready.

I'll describe the trail to you: downhill, rocks, roots, ruts, uphill, dodge branches, over downed trees, under downed trees, downhill, up a big big hill, zigzag through the woods, cross the stream, rinse, and repeat.

So the three of us (KC, Runna, and I) lined up at the start with 200-ish people. The coordinator gave some announcements before the "on your mark, get set, go" - no gunshot, but I'm ok with not hearing that sound in Philly - and we were off.

When we first stepped onto the trail, I knew this race was meant for me. We had to run single file much of the time and took turns being in front to set the pace. Occasionally we would start some of Drill's cadence songs but we never remembered enough of the words to keep it going. I, for one, am no good at ad-lib... or singing, for that matter. I felt like we made a good team. Not only sharing the singing and the pace-setting, but we took turns nearly twisting our ankles on the terrain. This race requires lots of focus!

Eventually I had to come face to face with my fear of horses. Yeah, it was inevitable. As narrow as the trail was, we had to make room for some riders and their beasts to pass. I could tell by the look in its eye that one of those horses really wanted to kick me so I almost knocked KC down trying to get out of the way. She seemed less fearful, knowing a bit more about horses than me. She actually put her arm up for me to get behind her like a mama protecting her frightened child. Believe it or not that was not the moment she said I was like a four-year-old. That came later when we saw the pretty flowers. And before I picked up the shiny rock.

We passed an aid station and walked a bit so we could have a snack to keep our energy up. Some people sitting on a bench started clapping and cheering for us when we approached them and I can only assume it was the numbers on our shirt and not our voracious snacking that told them we were in a race. I turned to Runna and said "we should probably be running when they are doing that" so we jogged and waved like champs.

KC was having a lot of back pain so I took it upon myself to be her protector, since she had my back with those horses. I spotted an almost-perfect stick on the ground and picked it up. It was a little too long and had a branch coming off of it so I looked around, walked over to a big tree, and in an very Tarzan-like manner, smacked it against the tree, breaking it down to the exact right size for a walking stick. I resisted the urge to grunt like a caveman when I handed it to her.

We did not enter the race to win anything, just to prove to ourselves that we could finish, and we did! And best of all, we were not the last to finish. Three people came in after us. We suspect they got lost somewhere on the trail. Hey, we'll take it. Mission accomplished!

Mud Puddles and Corn Stalks

I watched the ground, carefully stepping around puddles and brush, as I followed my husband through the field. We normally don't come out here until late November, when the air is colder, the grass and brush are dried up and lying down, and the ground is a bit dryer - or frozen. We also normally wear boots. Today, in my sneakers, cautious about protecting my ankles, I saw every rut and cornstalk as an obstacle. What is usually a straight shot to the back, turn left, straight shot to the left, is a minefield of potential injury. I found it hard to focus on the destination with my eyes nervously on the obstacles.

So I've hit an obstacle. The kind of obstacle I fretted most about, that threatens to keep me from a couple of very big goals I have set for myself. The kind that makes me lose heart and wonder if I really have what it takes to complete this mission I've been on.

This morning I was very angry. I wanted to yell at someone. I wanted to blame someone, but I really have no one to blame. I got some very good words from some very special people. My husband said: you just need to work out once and you'll be motivated again. JJ said: you are already prepared for your race. KC said: It's just one week, you'll bounce back. Tracey said: You're probably more ready than you think. Tiffany said: If anyone I know can do this, it is you.

How did I manage to surround myself with so many encouraging people? I feel like, at the moment, they are holding me up, and I owe it to them to dust myself off and get back out there. It's the most promising feeling I've had in ten days. Just because I've been looking down at the obstacles doesn't mean the goal has moved. I'm still going in the right direction, I just had to step around some puddles and corn stalks.

Sometimes the journey is smooth and I feel a constant progression toward my goal. And sometimes, I have to weave through rough terrain. My half marathon is a trail run. It's not a smooth, paved road. I chose that for the challenge. I just didn't realize the rough terrain would apply mentally as well. I've said it before and I'll say it again: the bigger the challenge, the greater the victory.

I am setting myself for one heck of an accomplishment.

Original

I tried to find it but the grass and shrubs had moved in, crowding it and hiding it. Still, I knew it had to be there. Twenty-five years ago I found it easily, the trail through the woods across from the neighbor's house. The trail I used to disappear on, exploring and pretending and thinking. I felt a sense of loss at seeing that, but nothing compared to the loss I felt when I saw the house. Memories of my dad flooded into my mind. Over there is where he kept his pigeons. Along that fence is where he had his garden. The hammock hung there and his table and chairs, which he built himself, sat right under those trees...

I just spent five days in the town where I grew up. It's been a few years since I've been there at all, and at least a decade since the three of us hung out together - me, Crystal, and Audrey. Catching up in the car after they picked me up from the airport was fun, except that, being in the back seat, I couldn't hear all of what they were saying. I didn't have much to contribute to the discussion about methods of drawing blood, since I hadn't pursued any career that involved such a skill. Still, when Audrey tried to include me by saying, "so, Glenda, how do you draw blood?," I gave it my best effort, saying, "usually by accident."

I had the odd experience while there of seeing two sides of myself. Revisiting places I used to know well brought back more feelings than memories. Several people commented that I looked exactly the same as I did back then. This surprised me, because I feel like I am worlds different. Seeing my former home, my high school, and other familiar places, took me back to a place so distant for me now it almost seemed like I was trying to recall a dream.

We currently live in the area where my husband went to school and he often sees people he knows. His family is in the area and some friends he grew up with. He has seen the area grow and change and knows what used to be on that corner, or who used to live in that house. For me, being so far away from where I grew up creates a separation that feels like a different lifetime. Nobody in our town here knows how awkward I was growing up. They didn't see me, stick-skinny with acne and frizzy hair and low self esteem.

This trip "home" was indescribably odd to me. I couldn't remember names and faces. I couldn't remember my way around. We passed the house I grew up in and I didn't even know it until I was told. We saw a weird movie about clones being raised for their organs and in one scene, a girl went searching for her "original". That's the closest I could come to describing this experience. My original is no longer there. So I wanted to see evidence. I wanted to see pictures or a video or hear about her from others. I actually heard a really funny story that would have embarrassed me, had I felt any connection to my original. But I really don't.

How is it that others say I'm exactly the same when I don't even feel like I know the person they are referring to? I'm curious to know if anyone else, in the process of finding themselves, have ever felt this separation from their "original".

Ducklings

As we angled the canoes, preparing to cross the choppy water to the next island, I saw my husband pointing at something to his left. I couldn't hear him through the wind, but I soon saw what he was showing me. It was a family of ducks, swimming in the same direction we were going. I grabbed the camera but they were quick, and soon out of range for a good picture. It was one of many interesting things we were about to see on our day trip in the canoes, just another family out for a nice time on the water.

On the way to take my twins to school today, I saw a woman pushing a double stroller with twin boys inside, and a young boy and girl walking with her. I felt very emotional seeing that. It was me, ten years ago. What are the odds that there would be another family in our neighborhood with the same mix of kids? I wanted to tell her what someone told me the first day I was her. I wanted to say, "Don't worry! It gets easier!"

But then I'd be lying.

Sure, they can all dress themselves and don't need to be pushed in strollers or carried in baby carriers anymore. Yes they can entertain themselves and stay home without a babysitter. But I am still a mom and that is still a full-time job.

Last week, three nights in a row I came home from my other full-time job (the one I get a paycheck for), only to head right back out for some other activity - Monday was cub scouts with the twins, Tuesday was a school social for my daughter, Wednesday was youth group for my oldest. Squeezed into those same days were household responsibilities and my own workout schedule, which I think helps me keep up the energy for all this! And even though it sounds like a lot, I deal with mom guilt something fierce.

I know many moms who seem to have it all together. Clean house, clean kids, updated medical and dental checkups for everyone, well-dressed, well-groomed, well-fed (nutritiously) families... and these aren't all stay-at-home moms. Some have full-time jobs outside the home - and they are probably exceptional at them!

Not me. Monday my son had to go to the dentist for a broken tooth and I thought I was going to get a stern talking-to from them about our infrequent visits. I didn't, thankfully. He must have been busy. My house is a mess - sink full of dishes, piles of laundry on the floor ALL over the house, dog hair in the corners, paper piles on every flat surface... it's exhausting just thinking about it. Which is why many days I am more likely found sitting on the sofa watching TV than dealing with it. I'm escaping. I'm overwhelmed.

I know there are tons of resources out there to help people get organized but I feel like I need an intervention! I don't even know where to begin! If you have tips, please pass them along - I (and my family) will thank you!

And if your house is a mess, please invite me over so I will know there are other families out there going the same direction we are going. That we are just another family taking it one day at a time.

Blue Heron

As we ran along the trail, KC and I saw a beautiful blue heron standing in the water. It was patiently waiting, barely moving. I don't know much about blue herons and their social patterns, but I found it particularly striking that it needed no followers or leaders to be beautiful. It stood there looking confident and regal without any outside help.

I just dropped my daughter off for her first day of middle school. Even though she has an older brother and I've been through this transition with him, today has slapped me in the face with memories - probably because she's a girl like me. Unfortunately it's not the good memories washing over me, it's the ones I've tried to forget... the mean girls.

I feel like she's off to a better start than I was. She has a handful of really good friends to hang around with and a measure of self-confidence that I never had at her age. She is well-liked by many people and has always made a positive impression on her teachers. I told her the other day that being popular is not nearly as important as being nice. If she is nice to people, they will want to be around her.

In my school there were a few girls who made life miserable. Looking back, I realize that it was their own insecurities that made them put others down. It was the only way they could feel superior and important. That knowledge does no good now and it would not have helped much then. Public humiliation at the hands of these girls made a marked impact on my life.

My high school reunion was a few years ago and I went. I will confess that the primary reason for going was not to see my close friends (they weren't going), but to be seen. I wanted to encounter those mean girls. I wanted them to see that they didn't damage me. That I turned out okay. And that I wasn't afraid of them anymore. Don't get me wrong - I was not looking for a confrontation, just satisfaction - and acceptance. Isn't it sad that even now, it mattered to me what they think?

The reunion was fun. I talked with people I hadn't seen in years and really enjoyed myself. I actually caught myself thinking, I wish I had gotten to know these people better in high school, we have a LOT in common!

As it turned out, I saw the mean girl I most wanted to see - my nemesis. I don't think she even knew I was there. I could see that she was still fighting for attention among her peers, being loud and somewhat obnoxious. I left the reunion feeling a sense of closure on that part of my life. No more would I allow someone to make me feel inferior based on what I wear, where I shop, who I spend time with, what music I like...

So, after dropping my daughter off at school today, I wondered what I can do to help her get through school with her confidence intact. I want to make sure she knows that her value does not depend on what other people think, but on who she already is. And mostly, I want her to know that, just because someone looks down on you, it doesn't mean you have to look up to them.

Run With Your Heart

It was overcast and humid, but the trail was very busy. It seemed that everyone was trying to get in their walk/run/bike ride before the storm arrived and drove us all inside. Even with the heavy trail traffic, we managed to see two deer peacefully grazing only a few yards from the trail. They looked up at us curiously, not at all concerned for their safety, as we passed. Even though the supermarkets and gas stations were swamped with folks gearing up for the big storm, these deer showed no signs of urgency. To them, there was nothing special about this day. To us, it was a very big deal - but not because of the storm.

Today was a huge milestone for me. It was the longest run I've completed in my training, and the longest I will complete before the half marathon next month. KC and I went 12 miles today. Twice around Peace Valley - the place I struggled to complete 6 miles only a few weeks ago. The place where I said "I could never pass my car and keep going for another 6 miles."

Never say never.

I started the day feeling a little worried about the 12 mile goal. I knew I hadn't hydrated enough the day before and I had sore muscles from yesterday's boot camp - particularly my right hip. I also wore shoes that I had planned to retire because they didn't seem to be supportive anymore. But I knew KC was going to be counting on me to show up and frankly, I was counting on myself. I needed to do this.

The first mile was rough. I was feeling that hip and realizing I hadn't used my inhaler before we started. It was hot and humid.

We finally got into a rhythmn and my aches had noticably subsided by the time we got to mile 2. Easy conversation held our attention and we found that interesting topics can really make the miles go fast. Before we knew it, we were around mile 4, trying to think of something else to talk about, when we saw him.

He was probably in his fifties, very overweight and out of shape. It looked like every step he took was labored - perhaps even painful. He was walking in our direction with a look of determination and hope that we both recognized and admired. We exchanged hellos as we passed and had a new topic for the next mile. He was an inspiration to us.

At mile 5, we dodged oncoming runners - a huge group of them. At mile 6, we passed our cars. At mile 10, I declared that I was now officially running farther than I ever had before. At mile 11, the same became true for KC - and we only had a mile to go.

In that last mile, as we ran across the dam, we saw him again. The man from mile 4, almost finished his own loop around the lake, still walking and still wearing that look of a man on a mission. We were energized by the sight of him and both of us high-fived him as we passed. We just had to!

It was a big day for us. We didn't run the entire time. We walked some, but we ran way more than we walked. We left with the realization that it would take only one more mile to complete the half marathon, and that was the biggest confidence builder of all.

Oh and KC passed on a quote she had heard - I have adopted it as my mantra to keep me going: "When your legs get tired, run with your heart."

Fear for Fuel

I have read that it is very common for dead bodies to be discovered by runners, but nothing really prepares you for the reality of it. The run was going great - dozens of people in attendance, chatting casually as we took to the streets of Lansdale. We had just dropped off food donations at the local food pantry and were feeling that special rush you get from doing something for someone else. We rounded a corner and headed down a sidewalk. Just before I passed a telephone pole, I saw it lying there - the lifeless body of a groundhog. I shrieked, then felt silly immediately. I mean, of all people! I am a hunter, I love hiking and being in the woods, but it surprised me. That little surprise gave me a better energy boost than any gel or energy bar on the market!

This morning, KC mentioned to me that she admires the fact that I am sticking to my running schedule and getting people to come out with me. I told her the simple truth. The reason I haven't skipped a run (except when it was lightning), is because of fear. I know myself well enough to know that skipping one will lead to skipping another. Then, before you know it, I will give up on my goal - and myself - completely.

It's the same reason I keep inviting people to run with me. I am truly afraid to run alone. It's not really safe, especially when it's still dark out, but beyond that, there have been some disturbing local news stories recently that terrify me. Out of fear, I invite not one, but many people to join me. There is always that chance that if you invite one, they may not show up, so I put it out there and hope that at least one person comes through for me.

Fear usually moves someone in a particular direction. Fear of heights moves someone to solid ground, fear of tight spaces moves someone into the open, fear of dogs moves someone to cross the street when they see one coming. But some of the most inspirational stories are the ones where fear moved someone toward a goal. When someone's fear of death moves them to get healthy or lose weight, for example.

I'm a fearful person. I have many phobias, which my closest friends are well aware of. Paralyzing phobias like the fear of heights that almost stranded me on top of the huge dirt mound at ddip. I hope to conquer some of my fears someday - but to be honest, I'm not in a hurry! So, while I focus on my half-marathon goal, I will train myself to use fear to push me toward a goal instead of paralyzing me.

After that, who knows what I might set out to do!

Big Dreams

I turned out the lights and settled under the covers. It was my first night alone at the borrowed cabin, and I had brought our beagle along for company and security. He seemed content with the assignment. I felt hopeful about what would come of this trip, imagining how I would credit the owners of this place in the "special thanks" section of the novel I was about to write. The one that would lead to a satisfying career as a writer. Big dreams! Once all was quiet, the noises began. Little skittering sounds coming from the ceiling. I braved it for a while before getting completely freaked out. Turning the lights back on, I looked up to see tiny paws running across the top of the light fixture. Mice! After a sleepless night curled up, wide-eyed on the sofa, I checked into the nearest hotel.

I have a short attention span. I always have. This is why I lack follow-through on big goals - usually.

I am a big-time planner, and it goes way back to my childhood days. I remember planning parties that I knew I'd never have, just for the fun of making guest lists and imagining what party games we would play. I planned businesses, TV shows, backyard variety shows (which I invited the neighbors to once, according to my mom). I even filled an entire cassette tape with my own "radio show", which I actually mailed to the local radio station. (They never called.) My mom tried signing me up for dance lessons, gymnastics, and probably every other new "passion" I had, only to have me quit after one or two lessons. Oh, how I wish I had stuck with them! At least one of them!

Just the other day, I had an overwhelming desire to learn something new. Take some kind of lessons - something really cool like martial arts or hip hop dance.

I'll give you a second to finish laughing...

So anyway, I was worried that this short-attention span was about to start affecting my running. When I cut that long run short last week, I started wishing I had signed up for the same half marathon that Runna signed up for because it's only two weeks away and then I'd be done with this. Yesterday, I met KC and Paintbrush to run four miles and we canned it because of lightning. I was relieved I didn't have to run, and that feeling made me very uncomfortable. I don't want to lose momentum now!

KC said the best thing to me - do you think professional athletes feel like training every time? No way! Well, let me tell you, today is a different story. I didn't want to, since it's supposed to be a "rest day", but I answered a call to run this morning with JJ. She showed up for me 3 times when I would have otherwise run alone, so I felt like I owed her one. I went, and so did three other people. I could have stayed in my car. JJ even said I could take a nap and wait for ddip to start. But I know how regret feels so I joined them and it fired me up! Ever since that run, I have been on top of the world. I had an amazing ddip workout, and I don't think I've stopped smiling yet!

Funny how it's motivation week at ddip, just when I needed it most.

Chasing Rabbits

The little bunny hopped out in front of us as we were running along the paved path. Quickly realizing its mistake, it took off at full speed - in the same direction we were going.  For quite a while we followed it like greyhounds on a race track. It was comical to see it dart left and right, clearly hoping to lose us, before it finally learned that the way to end the pursuit was to hop off the path and into the grass. That image still makes me smile two weeks later. I suppose even animals have to figure things out sometimes.


I was scheduled to run eleven miles today, according to the training plan I'm following. I was graciously invited to join a running group at 5:00 a.m., which was exciting because this group consisted of those I consider to be the big leagues - the elite. These are the serious runners who do it just because they want to, even when there is no race to train for.

The plan was to run a six-mile loop twice. This was where it all went wrong before I even arrived. I made the conscious decision - and even said it aloud - that if I get too close to my car halfway through my run, I wouldn't finish it. I've said it before. I distinctly remember making that statement three weeks ago when I ran around Lake Galena. Way to psych myself out right off the bat. Lesson learned.

As a matter of fact, I'm learning a lot more than just how to run 13 miles. I fully expected this training to build my endurance and help me learn how to breathe, how to pace myself, etc. What I didn't realize was that, because so much of running is mental, I'm training my brain as well. I'm learning how to get started even if I don't feel like it and how to remember that I will regret more what I don't do, than what I do.

I'm learning where I do my best running. I've done well the past two weeks on that paved trail. I enjoy the scenery, and the possibility of seeing wildlife, and the relative seclusion and space. Today I realized that I am not in any way an urban runner. Even between 5:00 and 6:00 a.m., there was traffic as we ran along the road. This became a huge challenge for me. Every time a car passed, I had an overwhelming desire to stop and wait for it to go by. Every time there were headlights coming toward me, I felt anxiety. I walked more than I wanted to.

I think the biggest lesson today was that I am learning how to listen to my body. I got out of bed with the wrong mindset, that is true. But even physically, I was just not feeling it today. I felt heavy. I forgot to use my inhaler before we started, so I was feeling a little tightness in my chest. I was getting a little cramp in my side. Long before the first loop was done, I grew tired of hearing my own complaining, and I was feeling guilty for subjecting my running buddy to it. She was having a really good run and I was struggling to keep my negativity out of it.

It wasn't as tough a decision as you might think to stop when we finished the first loop. It was easy, but the guilt was hard. I felt like people would question my commitment to my training plan, and worse, that they might think I never really did run ten miles last week and ten miles the week before. But who am I doing this for? Nobody needs me to run a half marathon. This is something I want to do and, just as no one else is responsible for getting me to my goal, I am not responsible for satisfying anyone else's expectations of me. This is my quest.

I came home and, after second-guessing my decision and fretting over what people thought for a while, I took a two-hour nap. This was confirmation that my body was telling me to rest. I am never able to sleep during the day unless I'm really sick. Over the past two weeks, I've been running four days a week and doing DDIP three days a week. Two of those days, I'm doing both - one right after the other. Today I did half my goal. I never thought I'd be disappointed in myself for only running five miles. A year ago I couldn't even go that far! It wasn't the decision I wanted to make, stopping after the first loop. But I firmly believe it was the right decision. Rest is part of fitness. I am looking forward to next week. I'll be running twelve miles.

It's a Bird...

I watched as my husband pulled the vent cover off the bottom of the refrigerator to investigate. The squeaking noise under there had been driving us crazy and he decided to try to figure out what was wrong. As he knelt down, something emerged and flew frantically around the house. I laughed in surprise and said "it's a bird!" Standing up, he replied, "that's not a bird. It's a BAT!" My laughter stopped abruptly and I dashed into the guest room, pulling the door shut as fast as I could move. I'm sure the bat was just as uncomfortable, being out of its comfort zone in so many ways, and being chased around. Somehow, he managed to get it out of the house while I hid in that little room with my friends, the heebies and the jeebies.

I've been thinking today about a friend of mine who said something really nice about me and it got back to me. She said, of me, "she'll do anything for you." I feel like I am the kind of person who will go out of my way to do something for someone, especially a friend, but I've had enough people in my life who will heap guilt on me for what I am unable to do, that a comment like that is a rare treasure that I can't forget.

It's really easy for me to believe the bad stuff people say - or insinuate - about me. I am always ready and willing to take the blame, accept the guilt, believe the insults. I don't know where that comes from. I guess I just want people to be happy, even if they have to make me feel miserable in the process. My friend KC told me today that she needs to help me become more assertive so I won't be so affected by people like that. And my first thought was, who would I hurt if I say what I really mean? What if I say no when I really can't do something for someone?

Sometimes I fear saying no because I feel indebted to someone. This makes me think I have no right. So many examples are flooding into my mind but I won't tell the stories. Because if I say what I feel someone might be hurt by it.

I don't like being indebted to anyone. I'm not talking about living debt-free, within your means, with a safety net savings account and comfortable retirement plan. Sheesh, I have no room to talk there!

Here is what I mean: I rarely borrow library books. I stopped renting movies at the video store because I forget to return things on time. I almost never ask a friend to borrow anything. There were several times a friend has put something into my hand and said "take a look at this.. I'll need it back". So then I have this dilemma. Do I refuse the offer and potentially hurt their feelings, or do I accept it and risk losing or forgetting to return the item?

Borrowing from friends, in my experience, creates awkward situations. A few days ago I heard from an old friend that I had not seen in maybe a year. I was so happy to hear from her, because I had thought she was mad at me for not going to church. After a little talking, it became evident that she only thought of me because I had something that belonged to her. I felt a mixture of guilt (about the item) and foolishness (for thinking she wanted to chat with me).

There is another issue weighing heavily on my mind that I can't talk about here. It's a case where I am going way, way out of my comfort zone in many ways for someone and I know that they are still disappointed in me. It's a bona fide, genuine, damned-if-I-do, damned-if-I-don't situation. I wish I knew what to do. I only want to make people happy.

Red Fox

It was early morning and a bit foggy the day I saw the fox. I was taking a walk before work at Fischer's Park, trying to get in some exercise in my pre-DDIP days, when 7-ish seemed super early. I was on the back path, along the creek, moving at a pretty good pace and enjoying the solitude when I saw it coming directly toward me. I stopped in my tracks and considered whether I should make some noise, run, or take a picture with my phone. A part of me was greatly concerned that it may be rabid, since it didn't seem bothered by my presence. I waited. The fox finally noticed me when it was about 10 yards away, and suddenly dashed away into the woods. Apparently it was just a fox on a mission, and was too focused on his goal to see a potential obstacle.

I'll let you in on a little secret. I really don't enjoy running. Not at all. I enjoy the feeling of accomplishment I get from running. I'm enjoying the physical benefits I'm getting from the practice. But I wouldn't say I actually like to do it. I'm doing it because I want something out of it. I want to get in better shape. I want to have more endurance and strength. I want the finish-line-euphoria I will have the end of next month when I complete a half marathon.

Today I ran before boot camp, and it was the first day since I started training that I ran alone. It was a trial. The air was so hot and still, it felt like I was tightly wrapped up in plastic. There were no stars, no moon that I could see, no street lights in most areas. The only illumination I had was a tiny flashlight on my key chain. I was nervous. I tried listening to my ipod but without benefit of both sight and hearing, I felt vulnerable. I felt blind. I didn't make good time on this run. I walked quite a bit of it, in fact, but I didn't let it get me down. I was still proud that I got up and made the effort. I'm on a mission.

I've been running with different people at different times. I don't want anyone to feel responsible for making sure I meet this goal. This is my quest and it's up to me to make it happen. I knew before I left the house that I would likely be on my own this time, and that this would be the biggest exercise in discipline that I have faced so far in this training. Even though I went slower, it feels like success.

Discipline comes from the inside. It's that declaration that you want something, and you'll do whatever it takes to achieve it - you'll face every obstacle, you'll persevere when you don't feel like it, and you'll push through when it isn't fun, because the thing you want out of it in the end is worth it all.

People in DDIP have a lot of goals. This session I have a big goal. I've shared it with a few people, not because I want them to hold me accountable, but because I know that once I've said it, they will be watching to see what I am doing to reach it. And knowing they are watching will push me more than any words they say ever could. Actions speak. And this session I'm talking.

Apple Pie

I washed the apples and started peeling them, hoping this would work. My cookbook was open, and all the ingredients present and accounted for. No one had ever taught me how to bake pies, but I wanted something sweet so badly, I was willing to give it a try. Being a poor college student presents its share of challenges, especially when you are a married college student living 45 minutes off campus in a tiny hunting cabin. My husband had picked these apples off the trees on his dad's hunting property down the road. There were various kinds - we didn't know all the names. After about an hour, there was flour everywhere, a pie on the table, a delicious aroma, and, according to my husband, the best pie ever made.

I feel really great today. I'm on top of the world! It started out with an amazing workout at boot camp. I think all this running is helping me because I felt stronger and had much more energy during the workout. We were outside in a field, standing in a huge circle with Drill in the middle. While he was leading an exercise, I saw the sun begin to edge up over the horizon. It was stunning! Bright orangey-red against a pale blue sky. I kept an eye on it and by the time that particular exercise was done, the sun was almost fully exposed. I literally watched it rise up! A friend of mine said I am noticing God's fingerprints everywhere. I think that was one of them.

 There is a new TV show out now about people who use coupons so efficiently that they can have several carts of groceries and spend only, like ten bucks or something. I really wish I could get the hang of that. I try, and I've done pretty well, but nothing like that. Having that skill in this economy could be a lifesaver!

It takes real creativity to make the most of limited resources. One of my favorite meals growing up was something my mom called her "invention". It was a hamburger stew that she made up out of a few ingredients she found in her cupboard once when they had no money for groceries. I asked her to make it on a regular basis, and asked for the recipe when I got married.

Often around Christmastime there are heartwarming stories about children trying to help others by making something or organizing fundraisers for places like childrens' hospitals or our troops on the front lines. These kids get really creative, since they can't just get a job and send money. They want badly enough to help, that they either find a way - or make a way.

No matter how limited our resources. No matter how small we may be. There is always something we can do. It's the ones who accomplish things in spite of  their abilities that stand out and inspire others. Those are the ones we admire the most.

Local Flora

My husband worked carefully on the project for his local flora course at the university. He enjoyed the quest for various types of flowers, ferns, and other things growing in our area. Living off-campus, next to state game lands and his father's hunting property, afforded him plenty of area to search. He would bring items home and take his books out, carefully studying each specimen in detail, then pressing it to preserve the color and shape before adding it to his book. By the end of the semester, he was proud of the final project he turned in. His professor was quite impressed, and asked permission to keep it to show future classes how it's done. I admit I was a little disappointed that he said yes. It was a beautiful finished product.

I would never want to be famous. As much as I love acting, I wouldn't want the pressure of being in the public eye, under the careful scrutiny of a nation. Everything you say, everything you do, being judged and criticized. People looking for the worst about you - a picture of you with bad hair or an unfortunate outfit, or making a bad decision.

I heard someone talking about a pop singer recently, saying that she drew all sorts of fire from horrified critics for driving with her young child in her lap. I agree that is unacceptable, don't get me wrong. But I've heard that sometimes the fans and the paparazzi get very aggressive and create dangerous situations. It's possible that she was simply trying to get herself and her child out of a frightening situation.

Celebrities have to be very creative to protect their private lives and there are some who do it well, but there is always that chance that something they say will end up splashed on the front of a magazine, taken out of context, and misunderstood by millions.

I know, a lot of us think, "hey, for millions of dollars, I could live with that." or "I don't feel sorry for them." I'm not taking sides on the issue, just saying I would never want to put myself out there like that. Even here in a blog, I occasionally have my words being challenged and taken out of context. I have received criticism. It's no fun.

Shooting Star

It streaked across the pre-dawn sky and vanished in a matter of seconds. That was all I saw of it, but still it was thrilling. I rarely look at the sky, especially when I'm running. Normally I would be watching the path. So it felt like luck or providence that I happened to look up at that exact moment. It was there and gone by the time I could point it out to JJ, yet it stamped a lasting memory on that run. I was glad when  JJ saw one, too, before the run was over. I didn't see hers. It just happened so fast.

Sometimes everything that seems so stable and consistent can change in a matter of seconds, leaving a mark - sometimes a scar - in a person's life. It can be good. Like winning the lottery or stumbling into fame and fortune. It can be bad, like a tragedy.

I've been seeing this around me frequently lately. A dear friend was involved in a car accident resulting in a fatality. Another witnessed a horrific accident right in front of him and had to fearfully wait for help while she lay pinned under her car. Yet another friend is still processing the grief of her nephew's senseless murder. And then there is Skylar. The little girl two blocks away who was playing outside her home one minute and killed in a savage attack the next. In all cases, one minute things were normal and stable, and in a flash it all changed. Anything can happen.

I have a tendency to let fear take hold after tragedy. Fear and helplessness. Someone's facebook status today said "if you could have coffee with anyone from the Bible, who would it be, and why?" With brutal honesty, I would have to say Job. Because I want to ask him how he could continue to trust God after all the tragedy He allowed in his life. How did he cope? People may say they understand, but I won't believe them. It just doesn't make sense.

There is a person in my life who enjoys telling me they have it worse than me. Whatever my complaint, they will one-up it to make themselves the one to be pitied. Today I'm not in the mood for it. Today I am heavy-hearted for those going through life-shattering crises. Ones that this person wouldn't dare try to one-up.

Deer in a Trance

We had been running for five miles and I was starting to complain and lose my focus. Thor was talking to me about something - probably something motivational to keep me moving - when I saw the deer. It stood broadside, directly ahead of us at the point where the trail turns to the right. "Look! Look, look, look, look!!" I whispered excitedly, pointing like a little kid. Then Thor saw it too. We got somewhere within 20 yards of this deer without it moving. She just stood there watching, no doubt thinking she must be dreaming to see me running like that. It felt a little surreal to me, as well.

Yesterday was a milestone day for me. I ran farther than I ever have before. My GPS and Thor's GPS were not in sync - his said 10.75 miles and mine said 8.44 - but, based on other factors, we deduced that the total run was at least ten miles. TEN MILES! I'll give you a minute to let that sink in...

...

It's useless, isn't it? I'm still waiting for it to sink in myself! I'm trying not to think about the fact that I need to do the same thing next weekend. Oh boy...

It wasn't easy. Thor makes it look easy but don't let him fool you - he's a superhero, remember? The times that I walked, which were frequent once we hit the 5 mile mark, he ran backwards. He didn't walk at all. Ever. He's a marathon runner so this was cake for him.

mmmm cake sounds good.... where was I?

Thor said I need a mantra, something to say while I'm running to keep me moving. I'm going to have to give that some thought. It is definitely mental for me. I have noticed that my mind is ready to quit long before my body is.

This is what's keeping me on track so far with running:

1. Friends like Hurricane Becky saying they are impressed and giving me kudos for my dedication.
2. Friends like KC who are going through the same kind of training, and not wanting to let them down.
3. My husband telling me how thin I'm beginning to look, and how toned my legs are becoming.
4. Friends like Thor and Medl and Bowes and KC who don't stop and walk when I start complaining, but encourage me to push through my mental battles and conquer this.

See how important people are? Everyone needs a support system and I have the best!

Red-Tailed Hawk

On the way to work yesterday I was treated to an awesome display of nature in action. A red-tailed hawk, wings lifted up and talons forward, dove toward its prey in the tall grass below. It was beautiful, spectacular, powerful, and fierce. I watched its descent with fascination, glad for the red light that gave me time to watch without incident. For me, it was art in motion. It captured my imagination and left me feeling very fortunate to have witnessed it. I'm sure its prey felt differently.

For several weeks, probably months, after my twins were born, I experienced an emotionally painful period of isolation. My husband had to work and I was home with two infants, a toddler, and a preschooler, wishing for someone to talk to. People would sometimes tell me, "I drove past your house today." It hurt, knowing the world was passing me by at 25-30 miles per hour outside my front door, while no one took the time to stop in.

They thought they were doing me a favor, letting me enjoy the time with my children without interruption. Not wanting to disturb me. But to me, it felt like abandonment. I didn't reach out to anyone either. I didn't want to be a burden or make someone feel obligated to keep me company. I felt like I had figured out "who my real friends are", and that there were none.

Knowing how that felt, I try to keep in touch with friends, especially if they seem like they are isolated or hurting. I'm not perfect at it, but I really try. Occasionally I'll send a message to someone just to let them know I'm thinking of them. That I'm still there. I've mentioned this before. I am not looking for a response, just taking the opportunity to encourage my friend.

Suddenly another scenario has been occupying my mind. And it has me second-guessing this approach... what if they think I'm stalking them??

Someone I know has been complaining about a friend who seems too interested in her. She calls her a stalker because the person keeps seeking her out. She has nicknamed this person her "BFF" but only in sarcasm. She wants to hide when she sees her coming.

Is there a fine line between a loyal friend and a stalker? I suppose it depends on the person on the receiving end. I saw a hawk attack as beautiful but its prey undoubtedly thought otherwise. Are my attempts at outreach beautiful - or unwelcome?

Groundhogs and Bunnies

The air was hot and humid and, even though the temperatures were lower than the last few mornings, it still felt oppressive. We ran slow and easy - well, maybe it didn't feel easy but we weren't pushing ourselves hard this morning. I've made a habit of looking for wildlife along the trail because it takes my mind off the work. Today we saw a bunny and it saw us, too. It just sat there watching us run past. Up ahead, a groundhog saw us and took off full speed. I had no idea they could move so fast! It reminded me of the tortoise and the hare. The fast one sat still while the slow one dashed ahead.

Two years ago I decided to start running. I found a training program called "Couch to 5K", which promises to take even the most devoted couch potato and prepare them to run a 5K in nine weeks. I was skeptical. The first time I had to run for 30 seconds, it felt like a very big victory. Nine weeks later I ran a 5K in 34 minutes. It was cold and rainy that day and I ran the entire distance without walking. It was a very proud moment for me. A milestone, to say the least.

I've done other runs since then. Now I'm training for a half marathon and wondering what I got myself into! The schedule I'm following has me running four days a week, no less than three miles each time. Yesterday I had to run six.

I ran with three friends from boot camp: Thor, Bobby Mach, and Fiona. Talking to Thor before we began, I almost called myself "a runner," but caught myself, still unable to say it. You would think, after two years of semi-consistent running, and in the midst of a 4-day-a-week running program, I might not struggle with that, but I do. Why is that?

My theory is that a label comes with expectations. Ones you will either live up to, or fail in. If I call myself a runner, I'm opening myself up to criticism and potential failure. It is scary enough to sign up for a race you're not sure you can handle, but to identify with a group of people who are often better than you takes guts!

The hare didn't have to prove he was fast. Everyone knows that. Even when he isn't running, he's still a runner. The tortoise may not be fast, but his consistency made him a runner. Like Thor said to me:

You're a runner because you run.

Diving In

I sat, sunning myself on the giant rock in the lake, trying to get a little color on my skin, and hoping the color wouldn't be red. My husband had helped our beagle up onto the rock as well. The dog was tired from swimming and it was easier than taking him to the bank. My family splashed and played in the water while I relaxed. My eyes were closed when I heard a loud splash right behind me. I looked just in time to see my beagle's head emerge from the water as he doggy-paddled over to join the fun. It was a funny moment, seeing my ten-year-old beagle do something so impulsive and bold. 

There is something to be said for impulsiveness. The biggest decision of my life - getting married - was made within 5 months of meeting the guy. It was a logical decision, since we were doomed to either a long-distance relationship or a lifetime of wondering what if? otherwise. Yet getting married is a decision normally given much more time than even that five short months of getting to know him. By the world's standards, that was extremely impulsive.

Odd to think that the commitment of doing crossword puzzles in ink shows confidence, but marrying someone you've only known a few months results in skepticism and assumptions by those around you. If my friend's mom was right in her adamant conviction that I was knocked up, my oldest was seven years overdue. I would have thought the longest pregnancy in history would have gotten me some kind of recognition - and compensation - by Guinness but I still haven't heard from them.

We were told we were too young. That we were not going to last. A relative I will not name actually took bets at my bridal shower how long this marriage will last. I should have gotten in on that bet. We are 22 years strong. We still hold hands and kiss each other good night and want to tell each other all about our day. That impulsive decision turned out to be the right one.

I've always been impulsive. Every babysitter we've ever had learned very quickly that when we call to see if they are available, we mean right now. I decide I want to do something and I just don't want to wait!

I've made a couple of decisions recently that I actually spent a lot of time considering before acting on. One was a change I needed to make at work. I didn't want to make this change but I needed to, and only a few people know the real reason for that. It's a decision that took me months to commit to. I hope I don't regret it.

The other decision is more personal and I'm not going to get into details yet. Only a few people are in on this decision, too. I am not worried that I will regret it. I just don't want anyone trying to change my mind. I'm very excited about it and my husband is supportive of it and that's all that matters.

And of course there is that half marathon I mentioned  a few weeks ago. I'm still training for that. Life is getting interesting and I'm feeling pretty good about it. :-)

Rainbows

We sat on the deck, drinking our morning coffee and watching the rain taper off. It was a peaceful morning. The kids were still sleeping and we didn't have any special plans put on hold by the weather. My husband, looking at the suddenly blue sky, remarked, "there might be a rainbow, since the sun is shining." I jumped up and hurried out into the yard to see if I could spot one. Nothing. I went to the edge of the lake and searched the sky for any displays of color. Nothing. But the idea that it could happen left me smiling all day. It was a beautiful thought.

My mom likes to say that looking forward to something is half the fun. I think so too. For months leading up to our vacation in Maine, I daydreamed about what we would do there. Now that we've returned home, I'm looking forward to the next big thing on the calendar.

I think most people, like me, enjoy looking forward to things. People say they live for Fridays (or paychecks, or vacation...). Anticipation of something fun or relaxing or otherwise gratifying helps us get through challenging days at the office. It keeps us sane through chaotic days when the kids have us frazzled. It is the "happy place" we let our minds go to when people around us drive us crazy. It is a happy form of hope.

Then there is the other kind of hope. Hope that things will get better. Hope that a loved one will pull through a difficult illness. Hope that there is a light at the end of the dark tunnel we may be in. Hope that someone may find what they need: a job, a home, someone to love.

This is the hope we cling to when it feels like everything is out of our control. When it feels like our world is caving in on us. It's our lifeline.

Sometimes it's a struggle to hold on to that hope. Sometimes we need to be reminded to hang on and not grow tired of hoping. A few people I know are in need of reminders. It doesn't take much. A kind word. A simple "I'm thinking of you today."

If this brought someone to mind, reach out to them. And don't wait for a response. It might be all they can do to hear it.

Camp Fries

I sat with my son on my lap, a blanket wrapped around us to keep us warm from the evening breeze and the after-effects of too much sun. We watched our host preparing our dinner over the campfire. He made it look so easy, a result of decades of guide experience. After a long, exhausting day canoeing down the St. Croix River, it was nice to be taken care of. The smells of chicken and camp fries with onions roasting wafted over us, creating a powerful anticipation of a good meal - and good company.

One thing that made our vacation in Maine so special was the way our host - my friend's dad - treated us like family. He checked in on us every day to make sure we were having a good time and didn't need anything. He recommended fun things to do that he knew we would like. He stopped by to visit. He seemed to really enjoy our kids and our dog. He made us feel at home, without ever having met us prior to this trip. He felt very much like a dad.

My dad passed away in '95. Once in a while, I get that feeling of longing, wishing I could talk to my dad and tell him what's going on with the kids. He's never met them. I think he would have liked this guy who treated us so well while we were so far from home. I would love to tell him all about the memorable things we saw and did. He would enjoy seeing the pictures.

Our families are very disconnected, some by distance and some by conflict. Unfortunately, some by lack of interest. My husband and I talk a lot about how we want things to be when our kids grow up. For one thing, we want to be active grandparents. The kind that invite their grandkids over to spend the night or take the grandkids to the zoo. We'd like to have occasional get-togethers that don't have to be gift-oriented holidays full of expectation and stress, but simply dinner or a day at the beach.

I suppose most parents feel this way, but somehow, families seem to unravel somewhere along the line. This is why our family vacation is so important to us. We try to choose places where we are sure to stay connected, exploring places and sharing experiences in our little family unit. We want our children to create bonds and memories that will keep them connected as they grow older and move into their own lives and little family units. And to create those memories that will carry us through when we're apart.

Bald Eagles

The water was so calm it barely made a sound beneath our canoes. We stared up at a huge nest in the tree, fascinated by the majestic presence of the bald eagle. The eagle graciously sat still while we took pictures. I looked around at the other islands, thinking they would be fun for exploring later in the week. Gazing across the water, I spotted our cabin, just to the left of the blue pontoon boat, which was almost too far away to be visible. That cabin, our canoes, and our family was all that mattered. The rest of the world was miles away.

Coming home from vacation feels a lot like falling out of the sky. Back to reality. Back to demands and responsibilities and traffic and chaos. We all felt it, stuck beneath the George Washington Bridge in New York City, with the windows open because we had no air conditioner in the car and the heat on to prevent it from overheating. It had to be at least 100 degrees outside with the sun beating down on us. Tempers were short, patience wearing thin. The kids didn't complain during the trip, but I could tell reality was settling in on them when they started asking to have friends sleep over before we even got home.

For five glorious days we lived in the most perfect place we could imagine this side of heaven. Five days of enjoying the kind of carefree summer fun that adults always wish they could get back. We paddled around in canoes, went fishing, swam in the lake and the river, made campfires, roasted marshmallows, and simply enjoyed being together.

We saw animals everywhere: several families of ducks, a family of grouse, several loons, bald eagles, kingfishers, a racoon, a beaver, deer... my husband caught a garter snake and a pickerel frog to show to the kids, and to let me take pictures.

Our cabin was right on the lake. At night we could hear the loons as we sat by the campfire. We could hear the water lapping at the bank. We did not hear traffic, neighbors arguing, doors slamming, or dogs barking. As we sat there one evening, watching the fire, I said to my husband, "I wish I could bottle up the way I feel right now and take it home with me to use every time I get stressed out."

Being away in that outdoor wonderland really helped me to focus on what is really important. My family was there and we didn't need anything else. It was so much easier to see that without the distractions of everyday life. It felt like we were soaring, weightless. Like eagles.

I'm doing everything I can to bottle that feeling I had by the campfire. I took more than enough pictures to drive my kids crazy. I am writing down my memories and thoughts about the vacation. It's the best I can do to preserve that amazing moment in time when the world stood still and let us breathe.

Searching...

I sat on a little mat next to the creek, watching the kids play in the water and my husband catching crayfish. It was hot, even in the shade, and felt very much like vacation. A long weekend works wonders. I picked up my phone to see if there were any text messages but there was no signal. The corner where it shows the bars displayed the word "searching..." I didn't mind. It was good to be away from technology, even if just a few hundred yards away. I leaned back and rested my head, closed my eyes, and absently stroked my dog's damp fur, as he rested next to me in the shade.

This is one of my faults: I try too hard to read between the lines. I try to find the subtext in what someone is saying. It is exhausting, searching for meaning that may or may not be there. I feel like I'm extremely sensitive to sarcasm. As well-disguised as one might think it is, I can assure you it's not lost on me. But sometimes I look for it where it might not be.

I really need to learn to take things at face value. Here's what that looks like: yesterday I sent a text to a friend. She never answered. Not until this morning. It never bothered me and I never wondered if she was upset with me, because I knew that she would tell me if there was a problem.

I need to apply that logic to every relationship. Maybe there is hidden meaning or subtext, but it's not my job to read minds. Frankly, I suck at it. My husband told me, when we first met, "a man is only as good a his word." That really stuck with me and I need to put it into practice now. If there is some hidden agenda to someone's words, that is their problem. Why should I make it mine?

Taking words at face value should really help conserve my emotional energy. Less time spent searching for hidden meaning, and worrying over every little word someone says, frees me up to read the signals people want me to read.

Like when the dear friend from yesterday said she is happy that I am in her life.

Twenty Two

We walked along, hand in hand, along the wooded path. Occasionally, he pointed out a flower, told me what kind it was, then cut one for me. As my bouquet grew, I marveled at how much this simple gesture meant to me. I could almost imagine the scene from outside myself, as though it played on a movie screen with soft edges and romantic background music. We've been through lots of ups and downs together: successes and failures, the births of our children, arguments and forgiveness. And he still holds my hand and stops to pick flowers for me, after over 22 years of marriage.

I went to church this morning. Ten did a great job with her message. At the beginning she prayed that God would use her message to encourage someone and I can tell you He answered.

Over the last few months, I've had some difficult times with relationships. What I learned today was that some relationships are steadfast, and don't depend on circumstances. One of those who have been steadfast in my life is my husband. He knows I'm not perfect. He doesn't expect me to be. He knows when I hurt and he cares. He also knows when I'm wrong and how to tell me without destroying me. He knows how to admit his own faults and how to forgive mine. He loves me for who I am.

After church I had lunch and a long walk with my friend Marianne. She is also steadfast. I can talk to her about anything and she doesn't judge me. She knows how to confront an issue without destroying a friendship. She also doesn't expect me to be perfect. She knows the things I struggle with and shares her struggles with me. We don't see each other every day - in fact, I haven't seen her since March. That has not threatened our friendship, because it's real.

Almost every day I email with my friend Tracey. She moved out of state a few years ago but she is still a steadfast part of my life. She is a confidante. She is candid and open and non-judgmental. She discusses deep topics with me and asks the hard questions that make me think. She knows I'm nowhere near perfect, but it has no effect on our friendship.

And then there is God. Steadfast. Ten pointed out that He is always there. Whether I'm in the valley, or in the ocean's depths, or lost in my own personal struggles, He is there with me. I hadn't thought about that in quite a while. I'm pretty sure she got it from Psalm 139. I need to read it again.

What a thought, He is with me every single step I take, whether I acknowledge Him or not. He knows I'm not perfect. But He wants to perfect me. And He's the only one who can.

Lenape

They were fishing at Lake Lenape and my husband needed another worm for bait. Our little boy, even at the age of three, knew when it was time to take action. He looked around for a bit, then saw a robin pull a worm out of the ground, and, for the good of the mission, ran to the bird. The robin flew away, leaving behind the worm, a proud child, a stunned father, and a very funny story.

Last night I had no intention of going to boot camp. I was, yet again, feeling defeated. I don't know what's wrong with me lately! But after exchanging a few texts with Crazy Dukes, I felt rejuvenated. I couldn't wait for the alarm to go off so I could go work out with everyone. It amazes me all the time how one well-timed nice comment can turn your whole world around.

I was so glad I went. Today, the responsibility of leading the whole class fell on the shoulders of a very strong and capable, yet slightly nervous, member of the DDIP family. We call her Tamato. She set aside her nerves and took charge of that class like a pro. I was so proud of her - and inspired by her! We had a great workout, followed by my favorite, a trail run. I love the woods so much! I felt like I conquered something by doing what I didn't think I could do - going in and pushing through with enthusiasm, when I didn't think I had it in me. Time to take it to the next level.

So I just registered for a half marathon. It's a 13.1 mile trail run, taking place in September. It's bigger than me. I have never run that far in my life. I'm a little nervous, now that I made the commitment, but I have learned over the last year to believe in myself. Funny thing to be learning at my age (don't ask), but you don't know what you can do until you do it.

Two years ago, I didn't think I could run for five minutes straight. So I trained for a 5K. A year ago, I didn't think I could run more than 4 miles, so I stuck with Fiona and she got me to run 8. What I noticed each time was that incredible feeling of accomplishment I got from doing what I didn't think I could do. It's much more satisfying than doing something I've done before.

The fears and obstacles that stand in the way of a goal can be a deterrent if we let them, but they also spice up the reward if we go for it. The bigger the challenge, the sweeter the victory!

Picking Blackberries

Along the outside edge of the clearing, they eagerly collected berries: blackberries, raspberries, wine berries... whichever ones were in season. I used to worry that they would eat the wrong kind of berry and get sick, but my husband has been well-trained on edible wild berries, and has passed that knowledge along to his children. He patiently watches over them and helps them determine if the berry is ripe, and cautions them about the thorns. I love to watch them together, creating berry-flavored memories.

Some things are just bad for you. No matter how much you want it to work out. No matter how optimistic you might be. Too much sugar, for one thing - my personal demon. I can't stay away. Well, I can, actually. I tried it for a week just to see if I could do it. The first seven days of 2011, I ate zero sugar - not in my coffee, not in my cereal - I didn't even use condiments. Of course there are people who pointed out how sugar still managed to sneak in by other means, but I'm going to ignore their negativity because I know I did something big when I said no to sugar. For a person who gets offered a five-pound bag of sugar as a joke, every time she visits her brat of a big brother, that is a huge deal.

Unfortunately, there are also people who can be bad for you. Most people have someone in their life who is constantly showering them with negativity, or sucking the life out of them by being too needy or demanding. Come on, admit it... someone just popped into your mind, right?

A few years ago, my husband and I had someone in our lives who turned his back on his family, including us. He stopped speaking to everyone, for very petty reasons - reasons unique to each relationship. I tried so hard to bring about reconciliation. I sent letters. I pleaded. I used all the logic I could come up with. I sought counseling. How do you reason with someone who wants nothing to do with you?

I was directed to this verse: Romans 12:18. "If possible, so far as it depends on you, be at peace with all men." It could only be up to me for so long. Eventually, I had to let go. When I finally did, I had peace. The reconciliation never came. I doubt it ever will. But I know that I gave it every chance.

That relationship was toxic and it really took a toll on me. I have noticed that about me, how being around negative people drags me down. I've felt anxiety, depression, and irritability, just from being around certain people for too long.

There have been times when my husband asked me outright, "have you been talking to ....?" He sees it too, the effect certain people have on my temperament. He has also been known to warn me about people before I get to that point, but I don't listen. Too optimistic for my own good. I keep thinking I can out-positive their negative, but it never works. Sometimes it's healthier to keep the toxic contact to a minimum. Stress is not good for your health.

Morning Glory

The twins were so enamored with the morning glories that they made a beeline for the backyard as soon as they woke up in the morning. They sniff the flowers and giggle when the petals "hug" their noses. The morning glories don't seem to need a lot of attention. If they did, we would not have them because I couldn't keep a plant alive if my life depended on it. But the morning glories seem to find their own way back, holding on to the fence and flourishing despite my worst efforts.

It happened. I was spotted and confronted about my non-attendance at church. He asked me where I was attending. I told him no where. He asked a few questions and for some reason I felt like opening up about my reasons. About feeling lost in a sea of strangers on a Sunday morning. I should have known what would happen.

First I was told it's because I wasn't attending enough. Should be coming to Sunday school as well. I didn't tell him I tried that. I did continue for a bit to tell him how disconnected I felt and even used the words "like no one saw me". I'm not sure if he heard that part before another family got his attention and he walked away. While I was still talking.

He didn't mean to do that. I know this man would never intentionally prove someone's point in such an obvious way, while trying to tell them they were wrong. No one ever meant to do it. Keep in mind that I know in my head this was not intentional, while I tell you what it did to my feelings. And please keep in mind that even if it's "wrong" to feel the way I do, I still feel it. Judge me if you want, but this is raw honesty. It's genuine.

My first feeling was that of foolishness. He almost had me thinking it was all in my head before. He almost had me thinking I'd be at home there if I gave it another try. I had already been mentally checking my calendar for the next available Sunday morning that I could come for church.

Secondly, I felt like I was being written off. He had heard enough and didn't feel like I was worth any more of his time. I heard him speak once on a verse, I don't remember which one he was using but I remember with vivid clarity that he said it meant, if you don't repent, God will say "I give up on you." That one statement reverberates in my memory. It caused me to question everything I had been taught about God. About His forgiveness. About His long-suffering. About His patience.

He didn't know how hard I had tried to find where I fit in. I used to have my place there, but that ministry was disassembled. I talked to people and tried to find other ways to fit in. As soon as one person gave me a suggestion, another would come along and make me doubt whether I would be welcome in that group. I tried.

I am planning to visit another church this weekend. A friend from boot camp is preaching and I want to go. Another very good friend of mine attends there, so I know I won't be sitting by myself. It feels like this door closed as soon as his back was turned on me, so I'm ready to start searching again. Searching for genuine.

Skunk

We had already been running at least two miles and only had about a mile left. KC saw it before we did, and pointed to the little tree where the skunk was foraging around. We crossed to the opposite sidewalk to avoid taking home an unpleasant souvenir, but I was so excited to see it and watched it the whole time we passed. I've always thought skunks were adorable. I feel sorry for the cute little things. No one ever wants to get close to them because of the one single thing they know about them. They stink.

It's a delicate thing, seeing the ugly side of yourself. Nobody wants to. When we do, we are either defensive of it, blaming our upbringing or our circumstances or our experiences. Or we become self-loathing and focus on that one ugly thing, forgetting all the other things that make us beautiful. I'm not talking about physical appearance.

I've been analyzing myself today. Already, before 7:00 am. I've been asking myself, "would I want a friend like me?", "would I want a spouse like me?", "would I want a mom like me?". Stepping outside myself like that is a little uncomfortable. I'm seeing things that I want to change. I don't know if it's a healthy practice or not, but we all have room for improvement. Most people won't tell you where you need it. And those who will usually make us angry in doing so.

This time of self-evalutaion inspires me to take action and make the changes I want to see in myself. I'm already making a mental list of what I'm going to do as soon as I finish writing this. It's also helped me to see some things I like about myself. I don't think it's arrogant to appreciate certain things about yourself. You should strive to be the kind of person you are proud of. Acknowledging what is good about you can give you the confidence you need to make the changes you want to make.

There is good and bad in everyone. Whether you are looking at someone else, or looking at yourself, if you look for the bad, you will find it. And if you look for the good, you will find it.

Alter Ego

I stopped abruptly and froze when I saw her. One of my kids bumped into me, and I held out an arm to keep him from moving forward, whispering with excitement, "Look! Over there next to the tree!" Until now, I had never seen a deer lying down in the woods. She was unconcerned with our presence, and we were able to get a good, long look. I slowly brought up my camera and tried to get a  picture, but there was some brush in the way, confusing the auto-focus. She saw me. There's no way she didn't. But deer at Peace Valley know they are safe and have become accustomed to human visitors in their world.

Here is what I love about DDIP, and why I think it stands out from other workout programs. First of all, it is a community. I've taken other exercise classes in the past and never knew the names of any of the other participants, and rarely knew the name of the instructor. In DDIP we have a rotation of instructors, all with memorable names. Names like Hurricane, Diesel, Mad Dog, Iron Mike. They know you by name. They watch you and call out encouragement or challenges to you, and they care.

When I was feeling down the other day, I could see Hurricane watching me. I didn't want her to see me give up, so I worked harder, and felt so much better afterward, because of it. Today, Drill was there, and he kept his eye on me, too, knowing my struggles. But today I'm feeling better, and I was smiling most of the morning, enjoying every moment - especially the trail run.

DDIP fosters relationships. We write our name on the back of our shirt so we can get to know each other, and motivate and cheer people on by name. We occasionally have games or races - always good-natured and encouraging. If anyone falls behind or struggles with an exercise, there is always someone who will run back out and finish it with them. Sometimes several people. Games always end with high fives and pats on the back and never with sore losers or arrogance.

We each have an Accountability Buddy to help motivate, encourage, and challenge us to do our best. What you put in, you get out. An AB makes you less likely to skip just because you don't feel like going. Sometimes they will give you a wake-up call or email you between classes to keep you motivated. They are there for you when you do partner-assisted exercises. The AB changes every session, so you have a chance to get to know someone else a little better, and to keep things from getting too predictable. A lot of people have made lifelong friends this way.

Most of us have nicknames. I'm not entirely sure what the purpose for this is, but for me, it gives me a feeling of strength and confidence, sort of like my super hero persona. It allows me to step outside myself and do things the old me would never think possible. I think having nicknames gives people a closer connection, like a shared secret that people in the outside world don't understand.

Best of all, DDIP reaches out into the community. Once every session, over 100 of us gather donations and hand-deliver them to a local charity that serves the needy. (see my post entitled "Manna Run" for more on this.)

 When I get to DDIP in the morning, I feel like I step into another reality, with my alter-ego and super powers. My first session, one of the instructors asked that people not talk about their work problems during warm ups. They want us to feel like this is our escape from the stress of life and focus on ourselves for this hour we have together. In this alternate universe, we even have our own language. Outsiders may need a translator to understand terms and phrases like "ZDT", "IVMF", "Crumble the Booger", and why we say "Warriors, come out and plaaaayyy!"