(As an aside: I'm never certain about small words in titles - do they get capitalized or not? 'A' seems like it shouldn't be but then "I Am a Runner" looks kinda stupid.)
And, completely on topic now, I feel like a complete poser for even typing the title.
I started a C25K program back in May...or June thinking that as a good rule of fitness I should be able to run 3 miles.
It was torture.
The torture was made a bit easier by these podcasts and the image of Jesus running alongside me with robes billowing in the wind. Blasphemous? Maybe. But it seems less blasphemous than Jesus running in spandex.
The first time I had to run for 20 continuous minutes I thought the guy on the podcast had made an error and was secretly on crack; it turns out no, I really was supposed to run for 20 continuous minutes. And I did. Apparently I was the one on crack.
Which led to the discovery of the "runner's high."
I don't think my "high" is quite the same as the mythical runner's high which involves a feeling of euphoria like you could run forever. My high is more along the lines of, "I CAN STOP RUNNING!!!! I'M DONE!!!!"
But I DID manage to run my first 5k race (I use the term "race" loosely as there was no way I was coming first....or third....or even 30th so race meaning "getting to run with a bunch of strangers in a public setting" as opposed to "annihilating anyone who dares to compare their running speed to mine.") at the end of August and finished in 33:16 - not bad; slightly less than 11 minute miles which was fabulous for me.
But today.
Today was amazing.
Today was about everything I love about running. It was sunny and there were moments of God touches when I ran through sunbeams filtering through clouds and fog. So beautiful. I run on a hiking trail about 1/2 mile from my house (really so no one sees me because you know THEY ARE ALL STARING AT ME as I run by - it's true. Don't deny it) and I could smell the greenery and all the leaves on the ground and see the water and the mountains and the old pilings and mining ruins and it's just so damn beautiful it's like walking in a post card. And I had my Jesus music on and I ran and aside from the little things like lack of breath, muscle fatigue and tripping twice and almost dying, I finished.
How well did I finish?
Today I managed to run 3.11 miles in less than 30 minutes. 30 HELLO minutes!!! Less than a 10 minute mile! How awesome am I?!?!?!
Why just the approximation? Well - I had some mp3 player problems and had to restart the podcast (after one of those near-death trips) and I'm completely guesstimating that the distance I run is actually 5k (based of off walking the track laid out for a race earlier this year) but I feel that even with all those variables, I CAN say that I ran 3 miles in less than 30 minutes.
And that, my friend, makes me feel *expletive* good.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
The Middle
I've missed my blog.
Terribly.
I've missed getting comments (although the lovely birthday message from Kari that was completely unexpected was quite a bonus).
I'm finding I don't have much time for reading blogs and interacting the way I did a few years ago (hence getting more people to read my posts and more messages - which was always relative anyway as I never had more than single digits (unless I artificially inflated the numbers by leaving pithy comments to myself)) but I am also finding that I miss the writing.
I have been playing games at work of late. I think I kicked the Facebook bug and it's attendant games (too much time having to request items from other people, playing my made-up characters (I had about 8 or 9) so I wouldn't have to interact with REAL people (pity the poor extroverted introvert) and such but occasionally I do get the desire to continually click my mouse and move things about. However, today, I was thinking about this stress release and realized that the time was incredibly repetitive and nothing too exciting and left me with nothing to show for it. So, perhaps, I thought, I should use that time, my break time, to write.
Also, there has been so much to say, so much changing and so much that I need to process. Blogging helps in this aspect. But I have this annoying CDO aspect that makes me want to start at the beginning of this rabbit hole I'm in. But then I have to go back to 2004 and there's so much to say and I end up saying nothing at all.
So, perhaps the solution is to stop caring so much about neat and tidy and sense making and just to start in the middle, to start in the present, and let everyone (the millions reading this and waiting with baited breath for my next post) catch up as they can.
The present: Rafe is camping with his middle school class and I'm terrified of when he goes on his mission; if I miss him so much when he's gone for just a few days, how much worse will two years be? Q and Eliza and I are cleaning vermiculite out of the attic space to make way for modern insulation.
And I have a new laptop.
My old laptop replaced my dad's work laptop (which was antiquated six years ago) and I have been flying without a computer of my own. My dad finally got sick of me borrowing his home computer and bought me own for my birthday. I think I bought a nicer one than he wanted me to buy (read: I spent WAY too much money) but that's what happens when you just open up your wallet and say, "Have at but get. it. done!"
And that could really be the reason for this post - less "I JUST NEED TO WRITE!" and more "I really want to type on this keyboard and here the clickety clack of the keys."
Terribly.
I've missed getting comments (although the lovely birthday message from Kari that was completely unexpected was quite a bonus).
I'm finding I don't have much time for reading blogs and interacting the way I did a few years ago (hence getting more people to read my posts and more messages - which was always relative anyway as I never had more than single digits (unless I artificially inflated the numbers by leaving pithy comments to myself)) but I am also finding that I miss the writing.
I have been playing games at work of late. I think I kicked the Facebook bug and it's attendant games (too much time having to request items from other people, playing my made-up characters (I had about 8 or 9) so I wouldn't have to interact with REAL people (pity the poor extroverted introvert) and such but occasionally I do get the desire to continually click my mouse and move things about. However, today, I was thinking about this stress release and realized that the time was incredibly repetitive and nothing too exciting and left me with nothing to show for it. So, perhaps, I thought, I should use that time, my break time, to write.
Also, there has been so much to say, so much changing and so much that I need to process. Blogging helps in this aspect. But I have this annoying CDO aspect that makes me want to start at the beginning of this rabbit hole I'm in. But then I have to go back to 2004 and there's so much to say and I end up saying nothing at all.
So, perhaps the solution is to stop caring so much about neat and tidy and sense making and just to start in the middle, to start in the present, and let everyone (the millions reading this and waiting with baited breath for my next post) catch up as they can.
The present: Rafe is camping with his middle school class and I'm terrified of when he goes on his mission; if I miss him so much when he's gone for just a few days, how much worse will two years be? Q and Eliza and I are cleaning vermiculite out of the attic space to make way for modern insulation.
And I have a new laptop.
My old laptop replaced my dad's work laptop (which was antiquated six years ago) and I have been flying without a computer of my own. My dad finally got sick of me borrowing his home computer and bought me own for my birthday. I think I bought a nicer one than he wanted me to buy (read: I spent WAY too much money) but that's what happens when you just open up your wallet and say, "Have at but get. it. done!"
And that could really be the reason for this post - less "I JUST NEED TO WRITE!" and more "I really want to type on this keyboard and here the clickety clack of the keys."
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Needing A George Bailey Moment
I really don't like It's A Wonderful Life. I find it to be dark and depressing, for the most part, and have no idea out why it's considered a holiday classic.
However, today, I find myself wishing I could have that "George Bailey glimpse" to see what life would be like (for the worse of course) without me.
For the most part, particularly of late, I have felt that God loves me and that I have worth. But there are days like today when I need to know that I matter, not just to God, but to the people around me and that all this routine and little acts and effort and wheels spinning actually make some difference here in the lives of people I know or even don't know.
However, today, I find myself wishing I could have that "George Bailey glimpse" to see what life would be like (for the worse of course) without me.
For the most part, particularly of late, I have felt that God loves me and that I have worth. But there are days like today when I need to know that I matter, not just to God, but to the people around me and that all this routine and little acts and effort and wheels spinning actually make some difference here in the lives of people I know or even don't know.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Last Day of School!
Ever since Finding Nemo, I can't say the above words without saying them loudly and in a great hurried rush. The great effect of animated film.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Montessori Campout
We went camping overnight (happily in cabins) with Q and Eliza's school (unhappily, we had to share cabins and thus more people are now aware of my snoring problem).
We had a lot of fun. We ate a lot of food that would soo not have been okay had this been a pre-Easter event (And may I say that the camp's oatmeal chocolate chip cookies were so good, I think they were laced with crack. Seriously. I kept waiting for them to set them out at another meal so I could be the fat lady walking out of the eating lodge with two dozen cookies in her pockets because I would have been completely OK with that moniker.) We played miniature golf (rural Alaskan style - small cement pads with large rocks as obstacles), shot BB guns, arrows, played air hockey and walked. And walked.
I felt like a pioneer child.
But the best moments were with my son in the middle of the night. There were a total of 15 people in our cabin, only 2 of which belonged with me. Two of those other 12 had been traveling all night prior to the campout and had thus been awake from 1am until 9pm and were ex.haus.ted. I was hyper aware of the need for my children to be quiet. So imagine my joy when, in the middle of the night, I hear, "ELIZA! GET OUT OF MY BED! EL! I! ZA! GET OUT OF MY BED!" in a piercing whispered voice. Q had sleep walked (?) or something and ended up in the bunk next to his where a little girl (about 5yo and NOT his sister) was sleeping. In his sleep filled delusion, he thought she was Eliza and that she was on her bed.
I managed, after a bit of arguing, to convince him that his bed was the next one over. He finally allowed me to move him and we all settled back down for sleep.
Sort-of.
From behind my eyelids I saw a light flash on and swing around and shut off.
"He's just getting settled," I thought.
It happened again.
And again.
"Q! What are you doing?" I stage whispered.
"I'm afraid of spiders."
"Do you want to come sleep with me?"
He was in my bunk quicker than you can say, "Bob's your uncle," and my back ended up crammed up against the wall for the worst night of sleep I can remember.
The ironic thing is that while we found no spiders on his bunk, when we were putting our sleeping bags away, we DID find one on mine.
I suppose it just matters what one thinks at 1am and not in the light of day.
We had a lot of fun. We ate a lot of food that would soo not have been okay had this been a pre-Easter event (And may I say that the camp's oatmeal chocolate chip cookies were so good, I think they were laced with crack. Seriously. I kept waiting for them to set them out at another meal so I could be the fat lady walking out of the eating lodge with two dozen cookies in her pockets because I would have been completely OK with that moniker.) We played miniature golf (rural Alaskan style - small cement pads with large rocks as obstacles), shot BB guns, arrows, played air hockey and walked. And walked.
I felt like a pioneer child.
But the best moments were with my son in the middle of the night. There were a total of 15 people in our cabin, only 2 of which belonged with me. Two of those other 12 had been traveling all night prior to the campout and had thus been awake from 1am until 9pm and were ex.haus.ted. I was hyper aware of the need for my children to be quiet. So imagine my joy when, in the middle of the night, I hear, "ELIZA! GET OUT OF MY BED! EL! I! ZA! GET OUT OF MY BED!" in a piercing whispered voice. Q had sleep walked (?) or something and ended up in the bunk next to his where a little girl (about 5yo and NOT his sister) was sleeping. In his sleep filled delusion, he thought she was Eliza and that she was on her bed.
I managed, after a bit of arguing, to convince him that his bed was the next one over. He finally allowed me to move him and we all settled back down for sleep.
Sort-of.
From behind my eyelids I saw a light flash on and swing around and shut off.
"He's just getting settled," I thought.
It happened again.
And again.
"Q! What are you doing?" I stage whispered.
"I'm afraid of spiders."
"Do you want to come sleep with me?"
He was in my bunk quicker than you can say, "Bob's your uncle," and my back ended up crammed up against the wall for the worst night of sleep I can remember.
The ironic thing is that while we found no spiders on his bunk, when we were putting our sleeping bags away, we DID find one on mine.
I suppose it just matters what one thinks at 1am and not in the light of day.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Not Quite What Was Intended
My dad is a fairly gruff guy, not generally given to spoiling or adoring his grandchildren, so I was pleasantly surprised when he forwarded me this yesterday and expressly told me to share it with my kids.
The tune is catchy and the message is timely so I've been singing it ever since.
Sorta.
The problem I start out thinking, "My name is Jesus" and end up with this.
Not quite what my dad intended I'm sure.
The tune is catchy and the message is timely so I've been singing it ever since.
Sorta.
The problem I start out thinking, "My name is Jesus" and end up with this.
Not quite what my dad intended I'm sure.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Lenten Learnings and Easter Excitment
This journey of the last few days has been an interesting one and I find it even more intriguing that the unplanned Lenten gift, the one stumbled upon, has been the most significant.
I think I was right to cut back (mostly give up) TV and reading extra-scriptural things; I ended up spending a lot more time reading my scriptures and talking to God in the resulting quiet when the TV was not on to distract me while folding laundry or prepping dinner.
But my sugar fast has provided the biggest insights of all.
I fully admit to reverting to the mentality of a 3 year old and I struggled, like my daughter, to remember that Easter was about the atonement, crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus and not my finally getting to eat chocolate.
This last week was full of painful anticipation; I knew my days were numbered: one week, five days, tomorrow! And yet they were the longest days I endured during the whole period, to be so close and yet infinitely separated from something I adore. These feelings intensified my reading of the scriptures this week as the children and I rehearsed each day what Jesus was doing on that particular day. Every time I would get a pang for something sweet I would think: today Jesus was relaxing in Bethany; today He was administering the Last Supper and praying in Gethsemane; today - right now - He was hanging on the cross; today - right now - the world darkened. I thought it fitting that Good Friday here was rainy and dreary.
Saturday was busy and crazy running here and there with general activities and preparations for Easter with me not turning in for sleep until almost midnight. But the whole day I thought of Mary Magdalene and how she would have attended her worship services and spent the day in Sabbath activities, the whole while thinking of the body of Jesus and waiting, yearning for the moment she could tend to His body and render Him the final service she could give; I thought of all their sadness and the passing of my mother and how in the first few days of loss, sleep is almost impossible for the tears and weight of grief. Fittingly, then, I tossed and turned and got the worst night of sleep ever.
I woke up at 5am this morning giddy. The house was still. My children were sleeping. The sky was lightening. I walked out to the front room and saw my Easter box with my bags of hand picked, delectable, locally made and completely crave-able, even when I'm not fasting, chocolate and stumbled to the couch; I had already decided not to partake until I had read my scriptures. I laid down on the couch and went back to sleep, drifting in and out, for the next hour and half.
The rays of sun were beginning to peak out from behind the mountain when I finally decided that the sleep wasn't worth it and it was time to begin; I cracked my scriptures to John 20 and read, "The first day of the week cometh Mary Magdalene early, when it was yet dark. . . ." I thought of her waiting for the earliest moment when she could slip away and go to the tomb. I thought of her tired eyes as mine burned from lack of sleep, her anticipation, her grief and then her distress on finding the tomb empty. I thought of her elation on meeting the Savior and being with Him, hugging Him, loving Him that He was alive. I ate my first bite of chocolate and my mouth was filled with ecstasy as my heart was filled with joy at the story and reality of Jesus' resurrection and that He does still live, even now, ever watching over me, ever praying for me, ever listening to me.
In that moment, I understood the gift of Lent - that in some small way I could come not only to appreciate the sacrifices of Jesus and His pain more, but that I might understand the loss of His life, how those around Him grieved and what that means to me and the joy that He took it back up again and all the blessings that fall into my life because of His work.
What a gift! What a supernal joy!
I know that my Redeemer lives.
Happy Easter.
I think I was right to cut back (mostly give up) TV and reading extra-scriptural things; I ended up spending a lot more time reading my scriptures and talking to God in the resulting quiet when the TV was not on to distract me while folding laundry or prepping dinner.
But my sugar fast has provided the biggest insights of all.
I fully admit to reverting to the mentality of a 3 year old and I struggled, like my daughter, to remember that Easter was about the atonement, crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus and not my finally getting to eat chocolate.
This last week was full of painful anticipation; I knew my days were numbered: one week, five days, tomorrow! And yet they were the longest days I endured during the whole period, to be so close and yet infinitely separated from something I adore. These feelings intensified my reading of the scriptures this week as the children and I rehearsed each day what Jesus was doing on that particular day. Every time I would get a pang for something sweet I would think: today Jesus was relaxing in Bethany; today He was administering the Last Supper and praying in Gethsemane; today - right now - He was hanging on the cross; today - right now - the world darkened. I thought it fitting that Good Friday here was rainy and dreary.
Saturday was busy and crazy running here and there with general activities and preparations for Easter with me not turning in for sleep until almost midnight. But the whole day I thought of Mary Magdalene and how she would have attended her worship services and spent the day in Sabbath activities, the whole while thinking of the body of Jesus and waiting, yearning for the moment she could tend to His body and render Him the final service she could give; I thought of all their sadness and the passing of my mother and how in the first few days of loss, sleep is almost impossible for the tears and weight of grief. Fittingly, then, I tossed and turned and got the worst night of sleep ever.
I woke up at 5am this morning giddy. The house was still. My children were sleeping. The sky was lightening. I walked out to the front room and saw my Easter box with my bags of hand picked, delectable, locally made and completely crave-able, even when I'm not fasting, chocolate and stumbled to the couch; I had already decided not to partake until I had read my scriptures. I laid down on the couch and went back to sleep, drifting in and out, for the next hour and half.
The rays of sun were beginning to peak out from behind the mountain when I finally decided that the sleep wasn't worth it and it was time to begin; I cracked my scriptures to John 20 and read, "The first day of the week cometh Mary Magdalene early, when it was yet dark. . . ." I thought of her waiting for the earliest moment when she could slip away and go to the tomb. I thought of her tired eyes as mine burned from lack of sleep, her anticipation, her grief and then her distress on finding the tomb empty. I thought of her elation on meeting the Savior and being with Him, hugging Him, loving Him that He was alive. I ate my first bite of chocolate and my mouth was filled with ecstasy as my heart was filled with joy at the story and reality of Jesus' resurrection and that He does still live, even now, ever watching over me, ever praying for me, ever listening to me.
In that moment, I understood the gift of Lent - that in some small way I could come not only to appreciate the sacrifices of Jesus and His pain more, but that I might understand the loss of His life, how those around Him grieved and what that means to me and the joy that He took it back up again and all the blessings that fall into my life because of His work.
What a gift! What a supernal joy!
I know that my Redeemer lives.
Happy Easter.
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