Last night I stumbled onto the ESPY awards when I flipped on the TV. I've known about how Caitlyn Jenner was being honored with the Arthur Ashe Courage Award for a little while now, and last nights ESPY's was the presentation of the award, and the SPEECH that followed. While I knew that she was being presented with the award, I didn't know that it was taking place last night so I'm glad I got to watch it.
So how do I feel about the transgender community as a human being?
The thing that stinks in this situation is that Caitlyn Jenner was trying to make a point, but because we are so caught up on whether or not we think the award was deserved, we've completely lost sight of what that point was. She mentioned multiple times in her speech about how grateful she was that she was given this platform to be able to speak out about the struggles of a trans person growing up in such a hateful world. She spoke about a few stories of trans teens, one who was found murdered, and one who had killed himself because of the struggles they face with bullying and isolation. She spoke about the fact that we, as a collaborative people, don't have to like or even understand each other. But we DO need to respect each other. RESPECT each other to not hate, to not call names, to not shame or belittle each other. Respect each other enough to, if nothing else, just shut our dang mouths.
Oddly enough earlier that day I stumbled upon this VIDEO on my Facebook feed that was made by a mother about her experience with raising a transgender child. And it really made me think about things from another perspective.
How do I feel about the transgender community as a Mother?
It's easy to sit back on the side lines and point fingers from an outsiders opinion. It's easy to make comments and have judgmental thoughts about things you don't understand and don't have to deal with in your life. I don't have to deal with raising a transgender child, so it's easy for me to point fingers at the women in this video and say "Well I would just MAKE my child..." Because I've NEVER had to do that. But when I look into my children's faces, when I see them cry and I know they hurt. As I watch them grow up knowing all of the battles they will face for a million other reasons, I can tell you honestly that I would do exactly what this mother did in this video. I would hug my child so hard for so long, and I would cry with them. And when the tears dried, I would stand up and support them in every step of their journey.
Because the NUMBERS ARE REAL. But WE can help change those numbers, not by understanding, but by supporting.
So how do I feel about the transgender community as a Christian?
Well, I wish I was smart enough to tell you how to do this, but I'm not. Because I struggle with this. I've talked about it before in my blog, the conflict of being a christian and wanting to obey God, but also believing in supporting ALL humans. I do believe that Caitlyn Jenner hits the nail on the head when she said respect. And I think Jesus hits the nail on the head when he says "Love one another."
My pastor did a wonderful series called 'God, I have a question.' with a sermon titled "God, How Should Christians Relate to Gay People." He is a much much smarter man then I will ever be.
You can watch it here.
I wish life wasn't so difficult, but it is. It's difficult for so many people in so many ways. We each face our own battles and when it comes down to it, and we're all just trying to get through with as much happy memories as we can.
So take some time to make someone else's memory of today happy.
-Inspire Others-
Thursday, July 16, 2015
Tuesday, June 9, 2015
A wanderlust runner
I was born with a Wanderlust soul, but after having my first child at 21 I was never able to really satisfy that urge and it's always been a struggle that I've had to deal with. The insatiable desire to explore more, to experience more, to BE more.
That's why I decided to become a runner.
I think a lot about what it means to have what I like to call "a ragin case of wanderlust". Wanderlust to me is a feeling that makes my heart want to burst through the air that I breath and experiences that I have, and the sky.
Running has accomplished this, at least for now, for me. I think back on all of the runs that I have had. The nights that I have spent doing speed work in the darkness and stillness around me, with my heart beat strong and my breath heavy and hard. My music loud enough to shake my soul, but deaf to the world around me.
I think about all the times I've woken up with the after midnight shows still playing on the radio, after a night of sleepless mother hood, to log a few loops to the sun rising with friends. To spend the hours I should have been sleeping once I finally got my babies to sleep, but instead sharing laughs and smiles and venting and miles that I hold dear to my heart.
I think about the times I woke up too hungover for my own good, but dove deep into the trails on a warm summer morning to sweat out the woes and worries of the night before. A better cure for a hangover then any Tylenol or greasy breakfast could ever be. I call them whisky river miles.
And I remember all the times where I just couldn't piece together the past in my mind, so the only thing that made sense to me was to hit the pavement, one step at a time, one foot in front of the other. I remember all of the hills that I took to in sadness, and all of the miles I logged in fear, and all of the times I stopped running to just cry... and all the times I let myself do so; and then finished my run.
I have learned over my years of running that while I was longing for more. constantly living with wanderlust, that I was living the fullest life that I could have right now. As a runner my heart was bursting through the air that I breath and the experiences that I have on a daily basis. I wasn't constantly longing for the vacation or the night out to create my memories anymore, but I was living with them in the most habitual thing in my life. My wanderlust for running.
That's why I decided to become a runner.
I think a lot about what it means to have what I like to call "a ragin case of wanderlust". Wanderlust to me is a feeling that makes my heart want to burst through the air that I breath and experiences that I have, and the sky.
Running has accomplished this, at least for now, for me. I think back on all of the runs that I have had. The nights that I have spent doing speed work in the darkness and stillness around me, with my heart beat strong and my breath heavy and hard. My music loud enough to shake my soul, but deaf to the world around me.
I think about all the times I've woken up with the after midnight shows still playing on the radio, after a night of sleepless mother hood, to log a few loops to the sun rising with friends. To spend the hours I should have been sleeping once I finally got my babies to sleep, but instead sharing laughs and smiles and venting and miles that I hold dear to my heart.
I think about the times I woke up too hungover for my own good, but dove deep into the trails on a warm summer morning to sweat out the woes and worries of the night before. A better cure for a hangover then any Tylenol or greasy breakfast could ever be. I call them whisky river miles.
And I remember all the times where I just couldn't piece together the past in my mind, so the only thing that made sense to me was to hit the pavement, one step at a time, one foot in front of the other. I remember all of the hills that I took to in sadness, and all of the miles I logged in fear, and all of the times I stopped running to just cry... and all the times I let myself do so; and then finished my run.
I have learned over my years of running that while I was longing for more. constantly living with wanderlust, that I was living the fullest life that I could have right now. As a runner my heart was bursting through the air that I breath and the experiences that I have on a daily basis. I wasn't constantly longing for the vacation or the night out to create my memories anymore, but I was living with them in the most habitual thing in my life. My wanderlust for running.
Sunday, May 31, 2015
Keep on running my friends
Happy Sunday!
This Sunday is a good one for me. It's rest day!! I've been rebuilding my running career for a little while now; for about the past 10 weeks. If you ever rebuilt your running career, then you know what I mean about rest days. For me, I'm coming back from pregnancy. You could be coming back from an injury, from taking a hiatus during the winter months, or just rebuilding after a really busy time in your life where running wasn't able to be a priority.
But there is something beautiful about coming back, and extremely frustrating at the same time. To think that I WHOMPED my last marathon, and yesterday I struggled through 10 miles at a used to be easy pace. And while that thought is frustrating, I think back on 10 weeks ago when I went for my first run post baby and I really struggled through 2 miles at almost no pace at all, and then I think about the 25 mile week I just put in. The 5 am runs I started doing. The speed I have gained. The renewed love of running that I have come back to remember after a little bit of time off. Where I may not be anywhere near where I used to be, I have come so far from where I recently have been.
Embrace the mile in life you are at. Don't fret about where you started, don't long for the end goal. Just be in the moment that you are in and try to make that moment the best one you can have. For if you continue to try to better yourself in that moment, the inevitable result is a positive one. When you embrace each mile for what it represents, the start of a new run, the middle of a hard workout, or the completion of another challenge completed, whether that run was amazing or awful, the end product is always growth. Change for the better either from lessons learned or victories achieved.
Keep running my friends. Whether you love it or hate it for that run, you are an amazing person for being a runner. By running through this life, you are living the very essence of what it means to exist. You are sucking the most out of life that you can, and experiencing it in the most beautiful way.
Never lose that.
Dream Big_ Inspire Others_ Run Long-
This Sunday is a good one for me. It's rest day!! I've been rebuilding my running career for a little while now; for about the past 10 weeks. If you ever rebuilt your running career, then you know what I mean about rest days. For me, I'm coming back from pregnancy. You could be coming back from an injury, from taking a hiatus during the winter months, or just rebuilding after a really busy time in your life where running wasn't able to be a priority.
But there is something beautiful about coming back, and extremely frustrating at the same time. To think that I WHOMPED my last marathon, and yesterday I struggled through 10 miles at a used to be easy pace. And while that thought is frustrating, I think back on 10 weeks ago when I went for my first run post baby and I really struggled through 2 miles at almost no pace at all, and then I think about the 25 mile week I just put in. The 5 am runs I started doing. The speed I have gained. The renewed love of running that I have come back to remember after a little bit of time off. Where I may not be anywhere near where I used to be, I have come so far from where I recently have been.
Embrace the mile in life you are at. Don't fret about where you started, don't long for the end goal. Just be in the moment that you are in and try to make that moment the best one you can have. For if you continue to try to better yourself in that moment, the inevitable result is a positive one. When you embrace each mile for what it represents, the start of a new run, the middle of a hard workout, or the completion of another challenge completed, whether that run was amazing or awful, the end product is always growth. Change for the better either from lessons learned or victories achieved.
Keep running my friends. Whether you love it or hate it for that run, you are an amazing person for being a runner. By running through this life, you are living the very essence of what it means to exist. You are sucking the most out of life that you can, and experiencing it in the most beautiful way.
Never lose that.
Dream Big_ Inspire Others_ Run Long-
Tuesday, May 5, 2015
My open letter to this lady's open letter to pastors: It's not about you
As mother's day circles around again this year, an article popped up on my facebook feed that I remembered circling around last year about this time. It's an open letter a non-mom wrote about how she feels alienated when her pastor asks the moms to stand and be recognized on mothers day. She states the the ritual makes women who are not "technically moms" feel awkward. That one year she decided to stand, despite not being a mother, because she didn't want to feel like less of a woman. You can read the full article here. I just have one thing that I want to say to this woman.
It's NOT. ABOUT. YOU.
It's about mothers. It's about honoring mothers on this one day out of the year that is set aside to honor them. You state that it's awkward for the women to be told to stand. If a woman doesn't want to stand, they don't have to. If a woman wants to stand despite the fact that she may have lost her child early in their life and will always be a mother in her heart, then she can go for it. No one is taking roll call. You know how you feel in your heart, and God knows weather you have the heart of a mother or not and the act of standing should be a personal and immensely proud moment for these mothers, the same way it is when one chooses to stand in church the day they gave their life to Christ. No one asked you for your credentials before you stood on that day, and no one is asking for them now. They are just there to honor and support you.
I promise you that I'm not insensitive to your issue. I am in fact a mother of three, so I proudly stand on mothers day. But I'm no stranger to the feeling of sadness and loss towards a specific group of people. I lost my father to alcoholism when my oldest son was one. I was extremely close to my father growing up. He taught me a love for life that I carry in my day and pass down to my children. A spirit that I had hoped he would be able to pass down himself. But he can't; because he died very tragically. and way too young. His death, despite being over 6 years ago, breaks my heart every day.
And it breaks my heart again every time I see a friend post a picture on facebook of their father lovingly holding their grandchild, or playing baseball with them, or reading them a book, or walking with them hand in hand down a walking path in the woods. It killed me last week when I took my two year old to story hour and the two men that sat down against the wall next to me were both grandpas there on their own with their grandchildren. I watched their relationship longingly and just kept thinking about how I'll never get to witness that love, and my sons will never know that relationship. And it tears me apart when I attend a wedding and watch the father walk their daughter down the isle and dance that beautiful father daughter dance together. Because I never got to experience that, because my dad died 1 week before I met my husband.
But you know what, just like you on mothers day, those situations are NOT. ABOUT. ME.
They are beautiful and the essence of what makes our world go round. I would never ask someone else to compromise the love they have in their lives because of what I am missing in mine. I choose to celebrate them and their relationship and am proud every time I see love shared between two people in this world.
It'll be ok non-mama. You have your own beautiful life in your own way, and I have my own beautiful life in mine. And my life gets more beautiful every time I have the blessing to share in others joy.
It's NOT. ABOUT. YOU.
It's about mothers. It's about honoring mothers on this one day out of the year that is set aside to honor them. You state that it's awkward for the women to be told to stand. If a woman doesn't want to stand, they don't have to. If a woman wants to stand despite the fact that she may have lost her child early in their life and will always be a mother in her heart, then she can go for it. No one is taking roll call. You know how you feel in your heart, and God knows weather you have the heart of a mother or not and the act of standing should be a personal and immensely proud moment for these mothers, the same way it is when one chooses to stand in church the day they gave their life to Christ. No one asked you for your credentials before you stood on that day, and no one is asking for them now. They are just there to honor and support you.
I promise you that I'm not insensitive to your issue. I am in fact a mother of three, so I proudly stand on mothers day. But I'm no stranger to the feeling of sadness and loss towards a specific group of people. I lost my father to alcoholism when my oldest son was one. I was extremely close to my father growing up. He taught me a love for life that I carry in my day and pass down to my children. A spirit that I had hoped he would be able to pass down himself. But he can't; because he died very tragically. and way too young. His death, despite being over 6 years ago, breaks my heart every day.
And it breaks my heart again every time I see a friend post a picture on facebook of their father lovingly holding their grandchild, or playing baseball with them, or reading them a book, or walking with them hand in hand down a walking path in the woods. It killed me last week when I took my two year old to story hour and the two men that sat down against the wall next to me were both grandpas there on their own with their grandchildren. I watched their relationship longingly and just kept thinking about how I'll never get to witness that love, and my sons will never know that relationship. And it tears me apart when I attend a wedding and watch the father walk their daughter down the isle and dance that beautiful father daughter dance together. Because I never got to experience that, because my dad died 1 week before I met my husband.
But you know what, just like you on mothers day, those situations are NOT. ABOUT. ME.
They are beautiful and the essence of what makes our world go round. I would never ask someone else to compromise the love they have in their lives because of what I am missing in mine. I choose to celebrate them and their relationship and am proud every time I see love shared between two people in this world.
It'll be ok non-mama. You have your own beautiful life in your own way, and I have my own beautiful life in mine. And my life gets more beautiful every time I have the blessing to share in others joy.
Saturday, April 4, 2015
Good Friday: My testimony
At the age of 23 I had just gone through the roughest year of my life. I was in the process of a bitter nasty divorce and my father whom I loved dearly, had just died of complications from alcoholism. I couldn't have been more confused and lonely and scared. I wasn't a pronounced Atheist, but I might as well have been. Being a christian didn't make sense to me. Prayer seemed like a sham and if God was even real He seemed like a heartless mean man. I was headed no where fast with tears in my eyes and a bottle of vodka in my hand, and I had no way out.
I attended church when I felt like it with my now husband, both our families went to the same church. so we joined them periodically, but the times I did go I was cold and bitter. There was a wall of resentment built up in my heart for the things that had happened in my life. All I wanted to do was cry during the service.
Fast forward about 4 months to late January 2009 to a sermon I heard on forgiveness. The sermon that changed my life forever. The problem with the issues that I dealt with in my life at the time is that there wasn't anything I could do about the actual problem. There was nothing I could do to fix the fact that I felt my dad had chosen to die and there was nothing I could do about the way my ex husband was treating me through our divorce. And so I was angry. I was SO angry with them.
But that's the problem with holding onto anger towards other people, there is NOTHING that you can do to fix them. The only thing that you can do for the situation is to fix yourself and how you deal with the situation, and the only way that I could deal with myself was to first to forgive the people I was mad at, and to forgive myself for the choices that were made that might have led up to my built up wall of anger.
I learned about Jesus. I mean, I knew who the guy was, sort of, but I didn't really know. I had no freakin idea what Jesus would do to my life. I learned about how He died on the cross. I learned about how he sacrificed His LIFE in order to forgive us for our sins and that maybe I should give that a shot and forgive others for their sins.
It wasn't an easy task or a quick process by any means. It took years to figure out what it really meant to forgive people for their sins. It took a long time to make peace with my life and it took a lot of digging up the past before I learned that what I really needed to do was make peace and forgive myself, and then fix myself, before I could start to really forgive others. And it's still hard.
Our pastor has this saying, Right Foot, Left Foot. Its the simplest saying with the most powerful meaning in my life. I am an addict, former, recovered, what-have-you; ask any addict how their doing and they will tell you they are never recovered. It's a constant battle of anger and anxiety. But Jesus CHANGED MY LIFE and taught me that I could forgive myself for my mistakes and that the ONLY way to get through this life was to walk it one step at a time, left foot, right foot, with Jesus by your side and in your heart.
Good Friday is the day that Jesus died on the cross. The day He paid the ultimate sacrifice in order to forgive us for our sins. So pray today. Pray to be thankful of all that Jesus did for us. Pray for Jesus to give you the heart to UNDERSTAND what He did for us. And pray for the peace to be able to forgive whatever it is that is going on in your life that is causing your wall to build up.
Every time I hear people ask about God and how I know if He is real, I think about my life when I was 23. I know God is real because of the way He changed my heart and made me able to get through the day without crying, without drinking away my sadness, and without fighting with anyone. And I know, that if I do fail, that he will forgive me, and He will love me more, again and again.
Thursday, March 26, 2015
The pride-less place of starting over
I thought about writing this post all day yesterday, but alas I was too busy to actually sit down and write it. Definitely the bane of my writing career. Time... So I brushed it off as I do all of the other long lost blog posts that never came to be and went about my day. But while we were at small group last night a girl mentioned same concept I was thinking about all day.
She started talking about starting over from square one and what a scary and pride-less place it is to be. Maybe a sign that I should sit down and write this post huh?
I have been teaching yoga for roughly 5 years now. While I'm no guru I do think of myself as experienced with a special knowledge of the human body especially when it comes to athletic performance. However, I got injured somehow someway during my pregnancy two years ago and I have been fighting it on my own thinking I could self teach my way out of this pain and frustration of an injury.
So after the birth of my next baby I decided to give PT a shot to see if they could teach me some magic that I just wasn't thinking about. The first exercise the PT showed me were pelvic tilts. She had my lay back and tilt and tilt and tilt. I've tilted a few times here and there in the past. Almost every yoga move requires a good tilt before you set your position so I as I was tilting I was wondering what this ever so basic move was going to do for me.
Obviously my face read of my thoughts because she then explained to me that we needed to start over from the most basic foundations. That with a chronic injury of the hip/back region, something is wrong deep down inside in your core (your tranversus abdominis) and you need to fix it first in order to progress forwards.
I started to think about how I missed the most basic aspect of fixing an injury, taking a step back and evaluating the situation; the same way it is so important to do that in life. As we grow in our practice we tend to think we've gotten over baseline skills, and that once we conquer those skills we can keep pressing on. This is what I did. I kept saying there was no way it was something I already know that is the issue, it has to be something more... something deeper. So I kept pushing myself and pushing myself and always came out of it with my same injury.
If you've run a marathon before then you're "better" then the 5k distance right? You've mastered that skill. Yeah, tell that to the lady that is re-learning how to run a 30 minute 5k after birth.
In life we tend to want to fix ourselves in that way as well. We assume because we are beyond the basic fundamentals of life, we've mastered those fundamentals. It's only in the times of pride-less starting over that we learn we have NEVER mastered ANYTHING! We must always be students. We must always been the teacher laying on the PT table saying "I don't know anything. Teach me." And not only do we need to speak these words, but we need to be honestly and openly receptive of them.
She started talking about starting over from square one and what a scary and pride-less place it is to be. Maybe a sign that I should sit down and write this post huh?
I have been teaching yoga for roughly 5 years now. While I'm no guru I do think of myself as experienced with a special knowledge of the human body especially when it comes to athletic performance. However, I got injured somehow someway during my pregnancy two years ago and I have been fighting it on my own thinking I could self teach my way out of this pain and frustration of an injury.
So after the birth of my next baby I decided to give PT a shot to see if they could teach me some magic that I just wasn't thinking about. The first exercise the PT showed me were pelvic tilts. She had my lay back and tilt and tilt and tilt. I've tilted a few times here and there in the past. Almost every yoga move requires a good tilt before you set your position so I as I was tilting I was wondering what this ever so basic move was going to do for me.
Obviously my face read of my thoughts because she then explained to me that we needed to start over from the most basic foundations. That with a chronic injury of the hip/back region, something is wrong deep down inside in your core (your tranversus abdominis) and you need to fix it first in order to progress forwards.
I started to think about how I missed the most basic aspect of fixing an injury, taking a step back and evaluating the situation; the same way it is so important to do that in life. As we grow in our practice we tend to think we've gotten over baseline skills, and that once we conquer those skills we can keep pressing on. This is what I did. I kept saying there was no way it was something I already know that is the issue, it has to be something more... something deeper. So I kept pushing myself and pushing myself and always came out of it with my same injury.
If you've run a marathon before then you're "better" then the 5k distance right? You've mastered that skill. Yeah, tell that to the lady that is re-learning how to run a 30 minute 5k after birth.
In life we tend to want to fix ourselves in that way as well. We assume because we are beyond the basic fundamentals of life, we've mastered those fundamentals. It's only in the times of pride-less starting over that we learn we have NEVER mastered ANYTHING! We must always be students. We must always been the teacher laying on the PT table saying "I don't know anything. Teach me." And not only do we need to speak these words, but we need to be honestly and openly receptive of them.
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
Gratitude - This Bed.
If I could put the image of gratitude into a photograph; this is what it would look like.
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I am not sure I have ever been so grateful for an object as I am for this bed. Its not a great bed by any means. There is no real structure, just a frame to sit on, the cheapest box spring we could buy, and a mattress that was given to us by some generous friends that had an extra in their guest bedroom.
But since August of last year this bed has consisted of a mattress sitting on the floor of my in-laws basement where we lived for 6 months. You wanna see something funny, watch a 9 month pregnant lady get up 3 times a night to pee off of a mattress on the floor. Yikes.
Having this mattress on the floor during this time in our lives was pretty metaphorical. It was uncomfortable and ugly and cold. Because it wasn't in a home that was ours. It wasn't supposed to be there, it was waiting till it found it's home when we found ours.
As most parents do, once we moved and began the process of reassembling our lives our bed was put on the back burner of making sure our 3 boys each had comfortable places to sleep at night. We eventually purchased a box spring so our bed got a little taller. Then last Sunday when our parents came over the day we got back from the hospital after the birth of our 2nd little boy together, they brought our bed frame with them and my husband set it up that evening.
Sounds pretty normal right? I'm sure most people reading this have done that simple act of setting up a bed without a second thought.
That next morning (moooorning) our 2 year old had woken up around 4:30 with a nightmare so my husband pulled him into our bed with us, and I was laying on the other side of the bed with the brand new one, both were asleep in our arms. My husband looked at me and said "I'm so happy we have two." ...and my heart swelled 3 sizes that night.
My husband's and my relationship changed dramatically during the months that were the most desperate for us. In the 4 years we have been married we have changed from kids to grown ups. Again, you might think this is a normal process for people, but it's not. Not everyone puts in the time and effort to grow up as they should. When we started dating 6 1/2 years ago we became best friends instantly and made a ton of memories, but we were kids. We were fools. Through our times of struggle and growth, something clicked and we grew up; we grew closer to God, less full of ourselves, and replaced it with a never ending fullness of love for our little family.
Laying on our bed that night I felt complete and so indescribably thankful for this very simple item in our warm quiet home that our tiny boys could feel so safe and comforted on. I was so thankful for the memories I knew that would be made on this bed with our brand new family of 5 and the love and warmth our boys would be able to associate with this bed, even at 4:30 in the morning, and my heart was so full for the man across from me on this bed, on the other side of the 2 boys we had made together and the life we had built together from young crazy kids to this perfect home.
"This house is starting to feel like my home. So let's make it beautiful." - Sent by Ravens (song below)
This Bed.
But since August of last year this bed has consisted of a mattress sitting on the floor of my in-laws basement where we lived for 6 months. You wanna see something funny, watch a 9 month pregnant lady get up 3 times a night to pee off of a mattress on the floor. Yikes.
Having this mattress on the floor during this time in our lives was pretty metaphorical. It was uncomfortable and ugly and cold. Because it wasn't in a home that was ours. It wasn't supposed to be there, it was waiting till it found it's home when we found ours.
As most parents do, once we moved and began the process of reassembling our lives our bed was put on the back burner of making sure our 3 boys each had comfortable places to sleep at night. We eventually purchased a box spring so our bed got a little taller. Then last Sunday when our parents came over the day we got back from the hospital after the birth of our 2nd little boy together, they brought our bed frame with them and my husband set it up that evening.
Sounds pretty normal right? I'm sure most people reading this have done that simple act of setting up a bed without a second thought.
That next morning (moooorning) our 2 year old had woken up around 4:30 with a nightmare so my husband pulled him into our bed with us, and I was laying on the other side of the bed with the brand new one, both were asleep in our arms. My husband looked at me and said "I'm so happy we have two." ...and my heart swelled 3 sizes that night.
My husband's and my relationship changed dramatically during the months that were the most desperate for us. In the 4 years we have been married we have changed from kids to grown ups. Again, you might think this is a normal process for people, but it's not. Not everyone puts in the time and effort to grow up as they should. When we started dating 6 1/2 years ago we became best friends instantly and made a ton of memories, but we were kids. We were fools. Through our times of struggle and growth, something clicked and we grew up; we grew closer to God, less full of ourselves, and replaced it with a never ending fullness of love for our little family.
Laying on our bed that night I felt complete and so indescribably thankful for this very simple item in our warm quiet home that our tiny boys could feel so safe and comforted on. I was so thankful for the memories I knew that would be made on this bed with our brand new family of 5 and the love and warmth our boys would be able to associate with this bed, even at 4:30 in the morning, and my heart was so full for the man across from me on this bed, on the other side of the 2 boys we had made together and the life we had built together from young crazy kids to this perfect home.
"This house is starting to feel like my home. So let's make it beautiful." - Sent by Ravens (song below)
Monday, February 2, 2015
Chapter 30 - appreciation
Chapter 30
I think I'll call this phase in my life chapter 30. I can't even begin to think about how many different chapters that I've been through. Places I've lived, jobs I've had, people I've known and come to un-know.
I will be turning 30 in 3 1/2 months. I LOVE birthdays. It's such a fun day to celebrate someone in your life or yourself and while I have really enjoyed the last 29 birthdays of mine, I never much felt different then the year prior. I always felt like the day came and went and it was fun and then we continued on tomorrow; but I feel really excited about turning 30.
My 20s were a mess. An absolute mess. I remember my 20th birthday. I was sitting in a giant room in Kuwait with about 400 other soldiers. I was on my way home for my 2 week R&R from my deployment in Iraq and something happened where we got hung up and couldn't leave on time. We were supposed to fly out the day prior and I think our plane broke. On May 17th we sat in our passenger bus on the tarmac of the airport in Kuwait for about 12 hours, after spending an entire day out processing, We slowly became more and more aware that we were not going anywhere that day as we all exited the bus for a smoke late in the night. Some friends that I made (cause that's what happens when your sitting rather close to 40 other people for 12 hours) knew it was my birthday and when the clock struck midnight they all sang me happy birthday in the middle of the desert. We drove the hour and half back to the customs holding room, and I spent that birthday watching movies on my laptop and eating MREs with my huge green backpack as a pillow.
I think that day sums up my 20s pretty well. Disorganized with nothing going the way it was supposed to, yet full of memories, friends, and experiences I will never forget; although many I may want to.
Turning 30 seems pretty significant. If you have followed my blog at all you may know that within about 6 months time my husband and I were both laid off from our jobs, and we landed in the basement of my in-laws basement with 2 children and 1 on the way. I've been through a lot of ups and downs, but these 5 months were some of the most desperate and life changing I have ever been through. A form of rock bottom that I never want to experience ever again.
During this time I really figured out who I was on the inside. I'd like to write a little more about that time of self discovery in another post in detail, because I feel like it was an important change, but for the most part I figured out what type of wife and mother I want to be, as well as what type of person I want to be, and my priorities with my life.
Maybe I'll call the next chapter of my life appreciation. I've lived with a lot and I've lived with nothing. But these times of thriving and not have always been a self made choice. I had chosen to downsize, or had chosen to move or chosen to leave a job or take one. But this time my choices were taken from me, and I had to live within my circumstances and means under somebody else's home as an adult and a mother. While my living situation was needed and appreciated at a time where I needed the help, it took my out of my comfort zone in ways nothing in my thrill seeking life had.
The past 5 months have been somewhat of a condensed metaphor of the past 10 years really. I mentioned a few weeks back that I was waiting in limbo for all the marbles of my life to drop. I knew it would happen, I just didn't know when or where or even how but I knew that things were changing.
It was intense, because that is exactly what happened last Saturday. All the marbles fell and our phone rang at 4pm and said be ready to rock at 5; and everything that we were working so hard for feel into place. I was finally out of the waiting place.
My page has turned and I am ready to fill it with words. Beautiful, strong, life seeking, mature words.
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Why I threw my scale away
When I had my second child almost 2 years ago, I remained active throughout my pregnancy and gained a normal amount of weight. I bounced back pretty quickly between running pretty soon after giving birth, getting proactive about a healthy diet, and nursing him exclusively. I was pretty happy with my postpartum body and was back down to my pre pregnancy weight within those first 6 months.
But then things started to change. I look back and I can think about 50 reasons I should have been able to maintain that weight but every morning when I stepped on the scale I saw the numbers rise. I suddenly gained about 6 lbs in a month, for what seemed to me as no obvious reason. I was never one to 'diet'. I ate really healthy about 90% of the time, indulged occasionally (mostly in the form of high calorie brew) and ran long distances. The perfect formula for weight maintenance; so I thought.
For some reason though, when my baby was about 10 months old I just started putting on weight. Not a ton, only a few lbs in the long run, but a few unexplained lbs to me felt like the world. I got mad. I beat myself up about it. I complained about it and stewed over it and thought about those few lbs all the time. I was not happy about it.
I am a huge believer that if you want to change, you can. Even hard, sometimes unexplainable changes can be done with enough will power and dedication. Yes genetics play an important role in our lives but they don't determine our outcome. So I knew that this odd weight change that I was going through wasn't inevitable. Weird, but not inevitable.
After a few months of being mad that things weren't going the way that I wanted them to, I started to finally look at the bigger picture. The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. This is what I was doing which was not only insane but driving me insane. So it was time to make some choices.
If I really wanted to loose the weight, I needed to make some changes to my diet and lifestyle. For WHATEVER reason, my body was clinging on to my calories a little more then it used to, and I needed to combat that. So I started thinking about all the things I needed to do or give up in order to make this happen. While making these lists and reading these articles and going over and over it I realized I needed to make another list.
My priorities.
Why did I feel it was so important to loose these few lbs. Did I need to loose the weight? And most importantly, did I WANT to do what was needed in order to loose the weight? Would I be happy with my quality of life without the things that I enjoyed?
When we think about our weight we can get so hung up on numbers that frankly don't really mean anything. Was I willing to give up the things that I loved in order to accomplish this goal? What was the most important thing to me at this point in my life?
So after a lot of thinking, I decided that as long as I was still healthy and feeling good, as long as I still felt comfortable in my clothes and my body, was still able to go for a 20 mile run whenever I wanted, and still enjoyed what food I ate then the balance of all of this was more important then the few lbs I had gained.
But I still knew in my head, that despite the fact that I was ok with looking the way I looked, I still wasn't ok, for whatever reason, with that number on the scale. So I had to make the choice to throw my scale in the trash.
This was NOT an easy or light hearted decision for me. I even wrote this post a while back about how much I felt it was important to weigh yourself every day. But I knew that my mental well being was more important then any number on a scale, that really didn't mean anything anyways.
Life is about balance. Find your balance and you'll find a contentment that you may have not known was there.
But then things started to change. I look back and I can think about 50 reasons I should have been able to maintain that weight but every morning when I stepped on the scale I saw the numbers rise. I suddenly gained about 6 lbs in a month, for what seemed to me as no obvious reason. I was never one to 'diet'. I ate really healthy about 90% of the time, indulged occasionally (mostly in the form of high calorie brew) and ran long distances. The perfect formula for weight maintenance; so I thought.
For some reason though, when my baby was about 10 months old I just started putting on weight. Not a ton, only a few lbs in the long run, but a few unexplained lbs to me felt like the world. I got mad. I beat myself up about it. I complained about it and stewed over it and thought about those few lbs all the time. I was not happy about it.
I am a huge believer that if you want to change, you can. Even hard, sometimes unexplainable changes can be done with enough will power and dedication. Yes genetics play an important role in our lives but they don't determine our outcome. So I knew that this odd weight change that I was going through wasn't inevitable. Weird, but not inevitable.
After a few months of being mad that things weren't going the way that I wanted them to, I started to finally look at the bigger picture. The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. This is what I was doing which was not only insane but driving me insane. So it was time to make some choices.
If I really wanted to loose the weight, I needed to make some changes to my diet and lifestyle. For WHATEVER reason, my body was clinging on to my calories a little more then it used to, and I needed to combat that. So I started thinking about all the things I needed to do or give up in order to make this happen. While making these lists and reading these articles and going over and over it I realized I needed to make another list.
My priorities.
Why did I feel it was so important to loose these few lbs. Did I need to loose the weight? And most importantly, did I WANT to do what was needed in order to loose the weight? Would I be happy with my quality of life without the things that I enjoyed?
When we think about our weight we can get so hung up on numbers that frankly don't really mean anything. Was I willing to give up the things that I loved in order to accomplish this goal? What was the most important thing to me at this point in my life?
So after a lot of thinking, I decided that as long as I was still healthy and feeling good, as long as I still felt comfortable in my clothes and my body, was still able to go for a 20 mile run whenever I wanted, and still enjoyed what food I ate then the balance of all of this was more important then the few lbs I had gained.
But I still knew in my head, that despite the fact that I was ok with looking the way I looked, I still wasn't ok, for whatever reason, with that number on the scale. So I had to make the choice to throw my scale in the trash.
This was NOT an easy or light hearted decision for me. I even wrote this post a while back about how much I felt it was important to weigh yourself every day. But I knew that my mental well being was more important then any number on a scale, that really didn't mean anything anyways.
Life is about balance. Find your balance and you'll find a contentment that you may have not known was there.
Monday, January 26, 2015
33+4 Weeks pregnant and running and over it
I am 33 +4 weeks pregnant. This means 33 weeks and 4 days. Why does it matter to tack the 4 days onto the end of the weeks? It does. It just does! Because every day closer to your due date is one day closer to not being pregnant anymore.
I asked my Dr. the other week what he thought about when I would deliver and he said 2 weeks early. I follow a 2 week early trend with my pregnancies. I can't imagine what it would be like to be one of those women who follow a 2 week late pattern, always delivering at 41-42 weeks.. I'm sure I'd go nuts. So this puts me at a due date of Feb 26th, which is exactly one month from today. What what!
Man do I complain a lot about how much I hate being pregnant. I'd like to say I'm being over dramatic and that it's not really that bad, but I'm not. I hate it. And what makes me even worse of a person is that I have a very healthy pregnancy so it really isn't as bad as it could be. But all in all I am still so over it. I am over the constant aches and pains and 'harmless contractions' 23 hours a day. I am over being so large (I have gained about 27 lbs so far, but I hold it all in my face. Yes, I have gained 5 lbs a baby and 22 lbs of face). I am over not being able to run how I would like. Or doing yoga or push ups or going for a hike or walking up the stairs... or bending over. Getting up from the couch on my own. Tying my own shoes. Or any of my favorite hobbies really. (And I really miss my favorite post workout hobby of an ice cold IPA) And I miss my energy. I can honestly say I would be happy to sit on the couch all day at this point, and that's not like me. Embrace it, right?
But GOSH DARN if I don't love the babies. Some people enjoy the preceding 9 months, and fear the rest. I loath the small glimpse in time of being uncomfortable, and man do I love those little people that greet us at the end of it all.
For instance, my almost 2 year old just became very fond of the word no. I just looked over and asked him what he was watching on the TV, he happily responded "NO!" and went back to watching. ADORABLE! :)
But I am thankful to still be "running" as some of you may call it. I can still log 3-4 times a week, 2-4 miles at a time, average of a 10:30 mile, depending if I am running alone or with people. I have found I am significantly slower if I am carrying on a conversation, but I enjoy it more then running alone for sure. I have such great runs sometimes, and then awful ones to follow. Something I have yet to understand.
On Saturday I was able to meet up with my sister and we joined a group run. I got in 4 miles and felt really good afterwards. Not too achey during and like I could have kept going when I was done. Then I taught an hour power yoga class afterwards. You wanna see something funny, watch and 8 month pregnant lady transition from downward dog to warrior I in one fluid motion. Ha! Again I felt good, but I started getting this pain in my lower right side of my belly that I get sometimes. Didn't think much of it. So after such a good run on Saturday I was very excited for my miles on Sunday, but at about 1/2 mile that pain started to come back. I slowed my pace and practiced slow deep breathing, but at 3/4 a mile I had to stop. I stretched and relaxed, determined to finish at least 3. I started my trot back up and the pain was instant and persistent. I turned around and thought I could at least head home in case it didn't subside. It didn't. So I walked it out till I hit a mile, annoyed and frustrated that I have been able to complete marathons, but a mile was kicking my preggo butt. I started jogging again when I hit a mile and just figured I would tough it out till I got home. I made it 1.5 miles. Wow...
On the plus side, I wasn't running this late with my last pregnancy. I think I only made it till 31 weeks or so before I stopped. But that was due to the weather mostly, as I apparently only birth babies in the winter. So I AM thankful to still be up and at em. I really am. I'll take the day off today and do some foam rolling and a light HIIT workout. I have become very fond of the Nike Training App. I do the 15 minute workouts, but I make mine more of 20-30 minutes. They do the moves back to back, and I slow down and take 30 second - 1 minute rests in between so my heart rate doesn't get all crazy.
The light at the end of the tunnel is almost here and I cant wait to say hi to another little boy in my life!
Tuesday, December 9, 2014
Why I'm glad I shared my S*** to the world
About a week ago I wrote a blog post called Maybe you know someone... It was a very personal post about the large struggle that I have been dealing with. It wasn't an easy post to write, and it was even harder to share it on a public forum such as Facebook. The post wasn't written in a moment of weakness or hysteria, although some may think so, and it was not a cry for help. It was, however, written with the purpose of asking for help, and that's okay.
I don't think there is anything wrong with asking for help and I don't think there is anything wrong with asking people I don't know for help. The world is so much broader then our inner circle, and most of the time, your inner circle is never going to be the one to help you in the long run. They may feel the most concern for you since they know you, but that doesn't obligate them to help. And that's okay too.
I knew posting something so personal and so public on the internet would reach people I didn't want it to reach. I knew that since my mothers joined Facebook my private life would be more visible and judged and things such as this post would be seen by both of them. I knew the conversations would be rough from all kinds of people and I would have to hear advice that I didn't want to hear. I understood the backlash that was going to happen. But I also know myself and my thoughts and my confidence in writing something so personal and so public. Being at peace with an action, weather dramatic or level headed, is the only thing you can do in life to make your journey easier. Peace and confidence in your decisions.
I don't think there is anything wrong with asking for help and I don't think there is anything wrong with asking people I don't know for help. The world is so much broader then our inner circle, and most of the time, your inner circle is never going to be the one to help you in the long run. They may feel the most concern for you since they know you, but that doesn't obligate them to help. And that's okay too.
I knew posting something so personal and so public on the internet would reach people I didn't want it to reach. I knew that since my mothers joined Facebook my private life would be more visible and judged and things such as this post would be seen by both of them. I knew the conversations would be rough from all kinds of people and I would have to hear advice that I didn't want to hear. I understood the backlash that was going to happen. But I also know myself and my thoughts and my confidence in writing something so personal and so public. Being at peace with an action, weather dramatic or level headed, is the only thing you can do in life to make your journey easier. Peace and confidence in your decisions.
I knew when I posted what I posted that nothing dramatic would happen. Despite my desires for a home, I knew I would stay where I was. But a few things happened because I opened up my mouth. Or my browser actually.
I had some open conversations with my mothers, with my husband, and with myself. It allowed my mind to be taken out of the black hole that it has been stuck in and give me a kick in the rear to do something, anything, to change my situation despite my inability to actually change it.
The serenity prayer has become very important to me.
And the WISDOM to know the difference.... That's a big one.
I still feel the way I do since I wrote that last post. A little more open and exposed for sure, but because I feel more exposed I feel more at peace. More confident in finding the courage to change the things I can. I know I can't move out, it's just not an option, and I can't change that. But I CAN change how I deal with the situations that I am in inside where I live.
We are not meant to live this life alone. Our communities are vast and endless if we open ourselves up to allowing them to be.
Thursday, December 4, 2014
Maybe you know someone...
Maybe you know someone that can help me.
So I'll write this open letter of desperation to the world. I mean, that's the beauty of the internet right? Open letters that turn out changing peoples lives? Maybe my immediate contacts are unable to help me, but maybe if they could share this letter with their contacts, and so on, somebody that could help me could be reached.
I feel so hopeless. So utterly lost with my life and with myself that I just don't know what else to do but write this utterly hopeless letter. Maybe it's needy and desperate and I should put things in perspective, but not to me.
I have been trying so hard to put things in perspective. SO hard. I have prayed and prayed and cried and cried and have become a professional at taking very deep breaths and telling myself it could be worse and I have ran many many miles trying to put things behind me.
It's very metaphorical isn't it? Going for a run. You walk out the door literally running away from your situation, only to always return to it when the run is over. It's always there, and it's always the same. Because as a wise man once said "The grass isn't greener on the other side, it's greener where you water it." (Little Wayne anyone?)
And this is the value I have tried to live by so strongly and that I tell myself over and over again every hour of every day. Don't be petty. Don't be selfish. God will provide. God will provide. And technically... "technically"... he has. When we had no where else to live God allowed my in-laws the grace to let us move into their home. Which I know has been just as much of a struggle on them as it has been on us. I am SO thankful that at the end of the day that my 2 boys have 2 warm beds to sleep on and that my husband and I have a heated house to live in in as the weather gets colder.
Honestly, I am so incredibly thankful to live in a world where the government has taken pitty on us and allotted us a small amount of money in unemployment and food stamp benefits after my husband was laid off. While it would never be enough money to support us if we had any sort of rent payment, it is the only thing that is getting us by on a day to day basis and I am VERY thankful for what it is.
But I am so. incredibly. mad.
I am mad that this is apparently all that God wants to give us in life. I am so incredibly mad that I over the years I have gone from "God please help my husband get a good enough job to support us; to God. Why won't you help us." I am so mad that I'm mad at God.
I am so mad that despite the roof over my head, I am a guest in the house I reside in. That I wake up every day walking on egg shells while trying to raise a family in my home. Tip toeing uncomfortably through the motions, trying to just get by.
I am SO mad that despite the fact that my sweet boys have a bed to sleep in at night, all of their possessions have either been given away because of lack of room to put them in, or they have been shoved in corners and boxes. I'm so mad their personal spaces have become cluttered and disorganized and overwhelmed. I'm mad my son doesn't have the quiet space he needs to do his homework and that my younger son has developed horrible sleep habits because of my fear of disturbing anyone else in the home.
I am so angry that I am overwhelmed with joy for our 3rd baby to be born but that every time I think about it I get so stressed out because I have no idea where I am going to put his bassinet. I get so stressed thinking about how I am going to comfortably nurse him 10 times a day, or what I'm going to do when he is awake for hours on end at night or is colicky during the day or needs to nap during the day, and none of it fits with anyone else's schedule.
And I am so incredibly angry that God hasn't helped my husband. My wonderful husband, the greatest dad and step dad and God loving man I have ever known, who was given a talent so wonderful and spent so many years getting his bachelors degree. Who has tried and tried and tried and failed and failed. I am so mad that he has never been given a job that is enough to support his family, much alone himself. I am so mad that God has never given him a career, or stability or financial comfort despite his relentless work ethic and amazing heart. I am SO MAD that his business hasn't thrived, and that he receives rejection letter after rejection letter for employment. I am so mad that God gave my husband a beautiful family, and has never given him the ability to support them. I am so mad that I feel so hopeless.
So maybe you know someone that has a home we can live in. Maybe they have a second home they don't use. Maybe they have a parent who has gone to a nursing home and needs someone to live in their home and care for it, up keep it. Maybe you know someone who owns a fixer-upper and is willing to trade rent for work. Maybe you know anyone, in any situation, for any reason, that would be able to give us a home for the holidays. It doesn't have to a permanent situation, it doesn't have to be fancy.
And maybe you don't know anyone. But you have the ability to share this letter. Share it on facebook, on twitter, on the radio. Share it some way that maybe you know someone who knows someone... and it reaches them.
I'm asking for help. Cause I am so tired of feeling so hopeless.
Thank you
- Katie
So I'll write this open letter of desperation to the world. I mean, that's the beauty of the internet right? Open letters that turn out changing peoples lives? Maybe my immediate contacts are unable to help me, but maybe if they could share this letter with their contacts, and so on, somebody that could help me could be reached.
I feel so hopeless. So utterly lost with my life and with myself that I just don't know what else to do but write this utterly hopeless letter. Maybe it's needy and desperate and I should put things in perspective, but not to me.
I have been trying so hard to put things in perspective. SO hard. I have prayed and prayed and cried and cried and have become a professional at taking very deep breaths and telling myself it could be worse and I have ran many many miles trying to put things behind me.
It's very metaphorical isn't it? Going for a run. You walk out the door literally running away from your situation, only to always return to it when the run is over. It's always there, and it's always the same. Because as a wise man once said "The grass isn't greener on the other side, it's greener where you water it." (Little Wayne anyone?)
And this is the value I have tried to live by so strongly and that I tell myself over and over again every hour of every day. Don't be petty. Don't be selfish. God will provide. God will provide. And technically... "technically"... he has. When we had no where else to live God allowed my in-laws the grace to let us move into their home. Which I know has been just as much of a struggle on them as it has been on us. I am SO thankful that at the end of the day that my 2 boys have 2 warm beds to sleep on and that my husband and I have a heated house to live in in as the weather gets colder.
Honestly, I am so incredibly thankful to live in a world where the government has taken pitty on us and allotted us a small amount of money in unemployment and food stamp benefits after my husband was laid off. While it would never be enough money to support us if we had any sort of rent payment, it is the only thing that is getting us by on a day to day basis and I am VERY thankful for what it is.
But I am so. incredibly. mad.
I am mad that this is apparently all that God wants to give us in life. I am so incredibly mad that I over the years I have gone from "God please help my husband get a good enough job to support us; to God. Why won't you help us." I am so mad that I'm mad at God.
I am so mad that despite the roof over my head, I am a guest in the house I reside in. That I wake up every day walking on egg shells while trying to raise a family in my home. Tip toeing uncomfortably through the motions, trying to just get by.
I am SO mad that despite the fact that my sweet boys have a bed to sleep in at night, all of their possessions have either been given away because of lack of room to put them in, or they have been shoved in corners and boxes. I'm so mad their personal spaces have become cluttered and disorganized and overwhelmed. I'm mad my son doesn't have the quiet space he needs to do his homework and that my younger son has developed horrible sleep habits because of my fear of disturbing anyone else in the home.
I am so angry that I am overwhelmed with joy for our 3rd baby to be born but that every time I think about it I get so stressed out because I have no idea where I am going to put his bassinet. I get so stressed thinking about how I am going to comfortably nurse him 10 times a day, or what I'm going to do when he is awake for hours on end at night or is colicky during the day or needs to nap during the day, and none of it fits with anyone else's schedule.
And I am so incredibly angry that God hasn't helped my husband. My wonderful husband, the greatest dad and step dad and God loving man I have ever known, who was given a talent so wonderful and spent so many years getting his bachelors degree. Who has tried and tried and tried and failed and failed. I am so mad that he has never been given a job that is enough to support his family, much alone himself. I am so mad that God has never given him a career, or stability or financial comfort despite his relentless work ethic and amazing heart. I am SO MAD that his business hasn't thrived, and that he receives rejection letter after rejection letter for employment. I am so mad that God gave my husband a beautiful family, and has never given him the ability to support them. I am so mad that I feel so hopeless.
So maybe you know someone that has a home we can live in. Maybe they have a second home they don't use. Maybe they have a parent who has gone to a nursing home and needs someone to live in their home and care for it, up keep it. Maybe you know someone who owns a fixer-upper and is willing to trade rent for work. Maybe you know anyone, in any situation, for any reason, that would be able to give us a home for the holidays. It doesn't have to a permanent situation, it doesn't have to be fancy.
And maybe you don't know anyone. But you have the ability to share this letter. Share it on facebook, on twitter, on the radio. Share it some way that maybe you know someone who knows someone... and it reaches them.
I'm asking for help. Cause I am so tired of feeling so hopeless.
Thank you
- Katie
Monday, December 1, 2014
The beginning stages of race directing
So I'm officially on year 3 of starting my own race directing business. It's an exciting and completely confusing place to be, as is most things in life.
The first race I ever put on was the first annual Broke Man's Half marathon. This free, non permitted race taught me a lot of event planning, but not too much about legit race planning. It was a great place to get my feet wet because with no cost was no expectations, so everything that did go well was just an added bonus and I was able to see if I was truly cut out for what I thought was my dream job.
At the end of that year I landed what I thought was my dream job as a regional race director for a national company. While it turned out to be such an AWFUL company to work for, and the job ended after the execution of the first race series for the National Veterans Day Run, it turned out to be a no-joke crash course in the race directing business after 4 races in 2 days. What an awful experience that I am so thankful for.
The next race I did was the following fall with the second annual Broke Man's Half Marathon. This was my favorite race. It was all mine with no higher end up front expenses. I was able to put on a great race with about fifty bucks in my pocket. This race taught me a lot about my passion and what people want. And don't want.
I followed that one up with a low key veterans day race on my own, as the company I worked for the year prior disbanded, and was happy with this small race despite a lot more complications then I had hoped for. Another learning experience.
So now here I am here, at the end of 2014, preparing for my 2015 race series and where I want it to go.
The beginning is always the most daunting stages of race planning. The PLANNING part. Lots of phone calls are made in the beginning stages and lots of carefully thought out dreams are finally spoken into words to complete strangers. Lots of dreams are crushed in the beginning stages of the race planning.
I can't tell you how many times I have been so happy and positive about an idea I had, to finally get up the courage to make the necessary phone calls to start execution for the plan just to receive an over the phone slap in the face. Oh those over the phone slaps are so painful.
The race directing world is not a do what you want field, and as an inexperienced entrepreneur I struggle with a do what I want attitude. It's taken a few years to realize my races are not about what I want even if what I want is for the people. My races are #1 - about what is actually possible and #2 - about what the people issuing my permits and approvals want. #3 - its a lot of what the people paying for the registrations want, and #4 - my vision.
Who knew?
So the first thing to do in the beginning stages of a new race is to take a deep breath, smile politely, and go for a lot of runs. Because it isn't easy to be told no all the time. Or that's not possible, or your idea is bad, or I don't have time for you, or to be treated like you have no clue what your doing. Because I'm young most people think I have no clue what I'm talking about I assume, and it's a hard ball to swing at over and over again.
But you learn over the years that as long as you keep taking a deep breath and picking up that phone again and again things will always get better. You will eventually find someone who thinks your ideas are great and want your vision to succeed. And by the time it's all done and over, your race will be done and over and you can focus on all the positive feedback you receive, and your able to forget about all the phone slaps that had to happen to make it all happen.
And pretty soon you'll be planning for the next year...
The first race I ever put on was the first annual Broke Man's Half marathon. This free, non permitted race taught me a lot of event planning, but not too much about legit race planning. It was a great place to get my feet wet because with no cost was no expectations, so everything that did go well was just an added bonus and I was able to see if I was truly cut out for what I thought was my dream job.
At the end of that year I landed what I thought was my dream job as a regional race director for a national company. While it turned out to be such an AWFUL company to work for, and the job ended after the execution of the first race series for the National Veterans Day Run, it turned out to be a no-joke crash course in the race directing business after 4 races in 2 days. What an awful experience that I am so thankful for.
The next race I did was the following fall with the second annual Broke Man's Half Marathon. This was my favorite race. It was all mine with no higher end up front expenses. I was able to put on a great race with about fifty bucks in my pocket. This race taught me a lot about my passion and what people want. And don't want.
I followed that one up with a low key veterans day race on my own, as the company I worked for the year prior disbanded, and was happy with this small race despite a lot more complications then I had hoped for. Another learning experience.
So now here I am here, at the end of 2014, preparing for my 2015 race series and where I want it to go.
The beginning is always the most daunting stages of race planning. The PLANNING part. Lots of phone calls are made in the beginning stages and lots of carefully thought out dreams are finally spoken into words to complete strangers. Lots of dreams are crushed in the beginning stages of the race planning.
I can't tell you how many times I have been so happy and positive about an idea I had, to finally get up the courage to make the necessary phone calls to start execution for the plan just to receive an over the phone slap in the face. Oh those over the phone slaps are so painful.
The race directing world is not a do what you want field, and as an inexperienced entrepreneur I struggle with a do what I want attitude. It's taken a few years to realize my races are not about what I want even if what I want is for the people. My races are #1 - about what is actually possible and #2 - about what the people issuing my permits and approvals want. #3 - its a lot of what the people paying for the registrations want, and #4 - my vision.
Who knew?
So the first thing to do in the beginning stages of a new race is to take a deep breath, smile politely, and go for a lot of runs. Because it isn't easy to be told no all the time. Or that's not possible, or your idea is bad, or I don't have time for you, or to be treated like you have no clue what your doing. Because I'm young most people think I have no clue what I'm talking about I assume, and it's a hard ball to swing at over and over again.
But you learn over the years that as long as you keep taking a deep breath and picking up that phone again and again things will always get better. You will eventually find someone who thinks your ideas are great and want your vision to succeed. And by the time it's all done and over, your race will be done and over and you can focus on all the positive feedback you receive, and your able to forget about all the phone slaps that had to happen to make it all happen.
And pretty soon you'll be planning for the next year...
Saturday, November 1, 2014
Running around Ohio
I have decided that I would like to run around Ohio...
This is what my estimated route would be as a step one in route planning. A lot of changes will be made to accommodate the most appropriate route for running, as well as the best campgrounds and cities to stop in along with way, this map is just the first step in my thought process of turning this dream into a reality.
It's not necessarily my dream to run around Ohio per say, but more along the lines to do something to get people to notice me. I have always wanted to be an important person in my field. A name people recognize, someone that is asked to speak at events, write articles for magazines, gets invited to all the runs and then asked for my review, and most importantly, a sponsored athlete who lands a cover on Runner's World Magazine. Is that so much to ask for? I don't want to be on TV or have a million follwers on Twitter, in fact my stats on social media are abysmal compared to anyone really. I still haven't found the secret to having as many Instagram followers as my high school brother, but I'm working on it.
I've learned that in this day and age, the possibilities are endless if you want it bad enough. However because of this, competition has become rough to make a name for yourself in your field. There's a thousand people headed in your direction no matter where your going, so if you want to be noticed you need to stand out.
So I've decided in order to stand out I need to do something epic.
I've followed stories of people running across america and have always been fond of the running wanderer, most likely stemming from my undying love of the movie Forrest Gump, and I sat down at the computer to throw some ideas around. The first thing I realized is that with (soon-to-be) three small children, running across America isn't something I can really commit to at this point in my life.
So I started throwing around some more ideas and eventually brainstormed my way into running around Ohio. It's a long enough commitment to where I can make the kind of splash that I hope to make, but not severe enough to where I can't bring my kids with me on my journey before school resumes again for the fall.
What does running around Ohio's boarder look like?
I'm nervous about even mentioning this, because it's such a high hoped dream that depends on A LOT of things happening outside of my control over the next year and I'm sure, as with everything that I do, I'll get a lot of crazy looks and words of doubt. But throwing the idea out to the world is the first step to making a dream a reality.
Time frame - July 2015- September 2015 with approx 6 weeks of running.
This is what my estimated route would be as a step one in route planning. A lot of changes will be made to accommodate the most appropriate route for running, as well as the best campgrounds and cities to stop in along with way, this map is just the first step in my thought process of turning this dream into a reality.
It's not necessarily my dream to run around Ohio per say, but more along the lines to do something to get people to notice me. I have always wanted to be an important person in my field. A name people recognize, someone that is asked to speak at events, write articles for magazines, gets invited to all the runs and then asked for my review, and most importantly, a sponsored athlete who lands a cover on Runner's World Magazine. Is that so much to ask for? I don't want to be on TV or have a million follwers on Twitter, in fact my stats on social media are abysmal compared to anyone really. I still haven't found the secret to having as many Instagram followers as my high school brother, but I'm working on it.
I've learned that in this day and age, the possibilities are endless if you want it bad enough. However because of this, competition has become rough to make a name for yourself in your field. There's a thousand people headed in your direction no matter where your going, so if you want to be noticed you need to stand out.
So I've decided in order to stand out I need to do something epic.
I've followed stories of people running across america and have always been fond of the running wanderer, most likely stemming from my undying love of the movie Forrest Gump, and I sat down at the computer to throw some ideas around. The first thing I realized is that with (soon-to-be) three small children, running across America isn't something I can really commit to at this point in my life.
So I started throwing around some more ideas and eventually brainstormed my way into running around Ohio. It's a long enough commitment to where I can make the kind of splash that I hope to make, but not severe enough to where I can't bring my kids with me on my journey before school resumes again for the fall.
What does running around Ohio's boarder look like?
I'm nervous about even mentioning this, because it's such a high hoped dream that depends on A LOT of things happening outside of my control over the next year and I'm sure, as with everything that I do, I'll get a lot of crazy looks and words of doubt. But throwing the idea out to the world is the first step to making a dream a reality.
Time frame - July 2015- September 2015 with approx 6 weeks of running.
Thursday, April 24, 2014
And I just kept moving
It's days like today where it's really freaking hard to be an addict. Recovered or not, half-recovered, half-not, half who knows what the heck is going on in life; sometimes life just grabs you and swallows you up.
And it usually comes without warning, in my opinion. I've done a lot of self-research into why some days I wake up and the world just seems off. Is it a hormonal thing? Are there certain triggers about this specific day that would make me subconsciously be thinking about certain things? Did I not get enough sleep? Are my kids pushing my buttons extra hard? Am I just bored? There has to be a reason behind these kinds of things.
I guess that's something that I have learned about this tricky business of addiction, anxiety, and everything that comes along with being pre-wired to have this kind of lifestyle. There really seems to be no set thing that makes me feel the way that I feel sometimes.
I woke up this morning in a good mood. Good enough for it being a normal Thursday morning. Maybe a little over-whelmed, but nothing out of the ordinary. But for some reason I woke up thinking about my dad, and I just couldn't stop thinking about him. I set out to work on the yard about mid-morning and I just kept thinking. And thinking, and thinking. About how much I missed him. How much it wasn't fair. How much all the things that I think about him when I think about him were on my mind.
And when this happens, I get stuck.
I get stuck in these thoughts and these emotions and it seems that I can't figure out how to get out of them...
I truly believe there is no recovery for an addict. My dad died 5 1/2 years ago, and I still get stuck in these emotions that I have about it all. The pain that I can't seem to get past.
But I guess that's where we grow.
To realize there is NO getting past it. Just getting through it to the other side, and then to just keep moving.
5 1/2 years ago, when I would start to feel stuck like I do today, I would drink. No matter the time of day or the obligation. I would have a drink, and that's how I would get through to the other side of it. To avoid it.
That's how I know I've grown.
Today has been hard. I can't figure out for the life of me why, which is why it doesn't seem to help confronting it or dealing with it in any way. But I seem to have made it through the worst of it without a drink.
Today has been hard. I can't figure out for the life of me why, which is why it doesn't seem to help confronting it or dealing with it in any way. But I seem to have made it through the worst of it without a drink.
How?
Well first and foremost I prayed and I asked God to give me the strength to make it through the other side.
And second... I took it one foot at a time. Right foot, left foot. I talked myself through each moment and said, just get through the next task. Just go do one more thing. Now let's get through the next thing. And one foot, and the next. And then I got dressed, and then I brushed my teeth, and then I just kept moving.
And when I needed to stop and process I did. And when I needed to sit down for a minute I did. And when I felt overwhelmed again and again I prayed. And I just kept moving. And I gave myself a goal. To make it through till I could go for a run.
And when I told myself I felt like writing this, I knew I was ok and that I would make it through.
There's no secret to life. And I think that's ok too.
Just a lot of prayer, and a lot of faith.
And if all else fails; get your butt out for a run.
Thursday, April 10, 2014
The sunset
I wish I could talk about the sunset all day, as I feel I could stare at it all day.
There's a Berenstain Bears book that I read with my son, it's our favorite series and he loves to pick out the stories that I lecture him on the most. He constantly asks me to watch more television and I constantly tell him no, find something else to do. So there is a book they write titled "Too Much TV"
At the climax of the book and the family has spent some time learning what it means to live without television (the only electronic device in the book) Mama says they are going to do something truly special so they all go and sit outside and spend the night watching the stars come out in the vast bear county sky. It really is beautiful.
There is something about watching the day turn into night that really gets to me. Sometimes I wonder if I have some childhood memory that I repressed attached to it. But I can't yet think of one.
I have always loved to write. I haven't always been good at it, but I've always done it. Because I want my words to mean something to people the way words have meant so much to me growing up and so many times I have sat outside watching the sun set below the horizon as the birds and colors of the sky come to life for a few moments of the day in the dusk.
I heard someone say once that they were so happy that God provided us with live wallpaper that changes everyday. I thought that was such a great way of saying things. We always take for granted something that is in front of our faces every day. The sky is normal to us because it is just always there to be expected every single moment without effort. Imagine that.
No Rock-a-doodle in our life time... Anyone??
The sky connects us as human beings. It doesn't matter who you are or where you came from, when you look up it looks just the same as anyone else that chooses to do so at the same time.
"I see the moon and the moon sees me, the moon sees somebody I want to see.
So God bless the moon and God bless me.
God bless the somebody I'd... like to see..."
Beautiful.. and expected, song.
I do have a most memorable sunset. It may not be the most gorgeous or extravagant sunset that I have ever seen. But it is the most memorable.
I was writing. As I like to do, keeping a journal at this time as I didn't have a computer, before I knew WHAT to write about, so it was probably something stupid as opposed to the memory of the unbelievable moment I was in. But that's ok.
I remember sitting in the back of my Humvee, it was mine - all mine, on a January evening in Kuwait. It was chilly so I wore the large black sweater the had assigned me. We had gone out on a mission a few days after arriving in country to pick up the rest of our vehicles and we were spending the night in the desert doing drills. Have you ever been in the desert in the middle of Kuwait, during a time of war, in the back of a Humvee that you were going to be sleeping in that night, by yourself, watching the sunset, with your M16 laying next to you, clip loaded attached to the handle of your weapon, smoking a cigarette, away from anything and everything you ever knew to make sense.
Most people haven't. Maybe that's why this sunset was so memorable for me. I looked out over the sand that laid so vastly before me, and up into the sky that was so empty above me, and out into the world that was so beautiful around me, and just stared in awe.
AWE
Of what laid before me
That's what God has given us with the sunset. He has given us beauty and majesty and awe.
Take time to notice it.
Monday, March 31, 2014
Right foot, Left foot
Right foot, left foot.
By Katie Cordova
Standing in front of the refrigerator, staring at its closed, dingy yellow stained front, and
speckled with a collection of magnets that I had no idea why they were there or where they had come
from, my mind was both blank and running a million miles a minute. I was conflicted on what I should
do. What the right choice at the moment would be. Weather I should give into my momentary desires or
be strong. Strong like I was unsure how to do.
It's funny how you have the chance to start fresh again as the sun rises each morning. It's as if
the darkening of the earth from the sun setting deep into the west cleanses it's people and washes all of
their past problems away. And when the sun breaks the eastern horizon again, the possibilities for the
future always seem endless. Life seems finally changeable, and even if just for a little while, history
seems to not exist.
I promised myself on this day, as I had on almost every other day, that I would start this one
anew and fresh and full of hope for the future. Not to be distracted by my sins of the past and to forgive
myself and for a little while. All of my dreams that I had been so fearful of seemed possible in those
moments.
But then we get dressed just as we always do, and we brush our teeth just as we always do, and
we get in our cars and we drive to our jobs and we say out niceties and preform our tasks and we smile
and nod. We direct our smiles towards a secret enemy and share a joke with an unwanted acquaintance,
and swear under our breath at a boss we are jealous of. Then we get back in our cars and drive home
again, just as we always do.
And through the course of our day we are imprinted again by our choices that we make, and are
reminded of the life we live, and the past that eventually lead to where we are standing at that moment
and the habits we held onto so closely, locked deep inside of us. And as hopeful as the new day started,
it is after we remember again who we really are that our lives seem inevitable and our pasts come back
to confront us, face to face. To mock us and say, you were weak this whole time.
Today I had woken up, holding my clean slate in my hand, and declaring that today I was going
to choose not to drink. That today, instead of drinking, I would go for a run as a means to deal with my
emotions. That instead of masking my emotions in a booze filled fog, hiding behind having to deal with
the loneliness, the quiet inside my fathers house, I would confront the silence and deal.
But this evening, after the events of the day laid their marks down on my clean slate, I was
reminded again who I really was inside. I wasn't strong. I was lonely and I was sad.
And I was an alcoholic.
The front side of this fridge where I was standing, frozen in time, was a reminder of my past
indeed. My father was an alcoholic. I opened the door to the fridge, to my father's fridge, and looked on
the bottom shelf where the beer had always been kept. This shelf was filled for so long with a certain
brand of beer that was my dads. It was his and no one else, and growing up the sight of that bottle had
always instantly reminded me of him, and as I got older, the smell of beer on his, or anyone's breath,
always brought me back to memories of my childhood. But now the beer that was on this shelf was a
different brand. Somehow it just didn't seem right.
I picked up a bottle from the fridge and held it in my hands. It was cold. Beer always had a way
of feeling colder and crisper then any other drink. The crispness had a comforting sense about it. I
closed the door of the fridge and turned away from it with the bottle in my hand.
My face felt hot. The skin on my cheeks and on my arms had become tingling and warm. I
stopped in my path and took a few deep breaths.
“No!” I shouted aloud and quickly turned back around, swinging the door back open and
returned the bottle to it shelf. I slammed the door of the fridge and turned my back to it. 'Just go put your running shoes on and leave,' I thought to myself. 'Once you do you will be fine
and you wont want to drink anymore.' I grabbed the shoes from under the kitchen table and
immediately left the house, slamming the back door behind me.
The sun was lower in the sky and the air had a cool, sharpness to it. It reminded me in a way of
the comforting feeling of the cool sharpness of the bottle I help just minutes ago. Cleansing. “Just get
on the road, just get on the road..” I repeated as I shook my head back and forth, sitting on the step of
my back porch, tying one shoe at a time. It seemed harder this evening, my hands seemed shakier then
before. “Just get on the road, one foot in front of the other. Right foot, left foot.”
I slapped my hands on my knees, hard, just after I tied the last knot and pushed myself up and
walked down the never ending drive way. My heart pounded in my ears, my cheeks burned, my head
spun. The driveway seemed to get longer as I kept walking and suddenly everything seemed to be
overwhelming. My steps felt heavy, my shoulders were slouching and the sun, despite to crispness that
was in the air, seemed to beam down on me in an unbearable way.
'What am I doing out here?' I thought to myself. My pace slowed as if I had a sudden realization
of what I was actually doing. Like I had just woken up from a day dream.
“I can't do this.” I stopped mid-way down the drive, turned around and headed straight back
towards the house.
'I'm weak.' I thought as I was walking.
'No I'm not,' the counteractive thought came to my mind.
'No. Your WEAK' another thought jumped quickly behind the other, deafening it.
“You don't have to do this. You have the choice,' my hands began to shake.
'Yes! You! Do!' This thought was again, so loud in my mind that I could have sworn everyone
around me could hear it as well.
'Just like him...' This thought was calm.
I stood still. Frozen in time, staring at the back door of my father's house. His deafeningly quiet
house. I knew what he chose. I didn't have to make the same choices that he did. I didn't want to...
I turned around one last time back down towards the street again. I shook my hands and my
arms out, breathing deeply. Determination was in my mind and all I could see in front of me were the
next few steps.
'If there was a neighbor watching me out their window right now, they must think that I was
nuts,' the thought suddenly popped in my mind. My lips cracked as a smile came ever so slightly to my
mouth and with that fleeting thought in my mind, I reached the bottom of the driveway and picked up
my feet and broke out into a slow and steady run. Out onto the street and away from that house. With
each step, the little house bounced up and down from the view behind me, bouncing further and further
away.
“Okay, you got this. You can do this,” I chanted aloud as my feet hit the ground. My breath
quickened at first, but then slowed rhythmically as is the melody of a song. The earth around me was
still. The trees motionless in the absence of wind in the crisp evening air. The slightest sweat broke on
my brow, the cadence of my heart beat leveled off as I rounded the corner of the next street.
The pounding of my feet against the concrete on the side of the road became methodical.
Right foot, left foot. Right foot, left foot.
The earth around me was quiet still. Too quiet possibly.
Thump thump, thump thump.
The silence became all too real as I looked around and began searching.
'Ugh' My thoughts began to return to me in the absence of outside distraction. 'Dad.' I shook my
head physically as the memory of my father came to my mind. 'Why.' I thought again.
“Why!” I rose my hands up to the sides of my ears as I looked up to the sky and shouted the
word aloud.
Inhale, exhale. My cheeks began to burn again as I started to remember why I chose to drink on a regular basis.
Inhale, exhale. The thoughts were strong in my head, and they hurt to think about. The
memories that I had of my dad, and everything that happened with him were still fresh in my mind. So
fresh I was unsure how to deal with them.
Inhale, exhale. Inhale, right foot. Focus on the road. Exhale, left foot. Chin up, head up. Straight
ahead. Look only at the road in front of you, the steps in front of you that you have to take and nothing
else. Right foot, left foot.
'Why didn't he choose life?' The thoughts came back to me as I kept running. 'Why didn't he
choose us?' They were louder this time. 'Didn't he see that we loved him? That his children wanted to
be with him? That we needed him to keep living!?' My foot steps became louder. Instead of their
rhythmic meditative cadence, the steps began to pound in my ears. RIGHT FOOT, LEFT FOOT.
'Why did he have to drink?' My thoughts circled and my skin started to become hot again and
tingle on it's surface. My heart pounded a little harder with each pound of my foot steps onto the
concrete earth.
'Why did he have to drink himself to death!' The words yelled at me in my mind.
'He left himself for dead! Dead on the ground! On the ground for me to find him. His child!'
Tears sprung to my eyes and my breath became so rapid it became difficult to breath. I ran faster, trying
to out run the tears, the heat on my skin. Trying to outrun the immediate pain. The loss of a life.
But I just couldn't run fast enough...
My pace slowed as my feet stumbled. I tripped over myself and my came to a sudden halt. I
stopped and sat down on the curb next to the street draping my hands over my face as tears poured
down my cheeks and my quickened breathing turned into gasping sobs. I could hear the sound and feel
the pain of my heart breaking into two.
My dad, my friend, had died. I would never see him again or talk to him again. I had to witness
him making the choice of drinking himself into his death for years. Standing in front of him and in
front of his doctors listening to him say it wasn't him, it was us. He didn't have the problem, we did.
My sobs grew louder as I grasped my chest with my hands as I gasped for air. The pain my
heart grew deeper and more physical with each breath.
For years I had begged for his change as I watched his mind slip in and out of reality, eventually
reaching to the point where his reality no longer had any rhyme or reason or even meaning inside of it.
And I found him that day.
Laying on his living room floor. Alone.
A man that had owned the love of a women, the adoration of four children. Of friends, of family
and a passionate love for the life that he lived everyday; had died alone, and rotting, without a sole to
know or to find him there. With only the bottle by his side as he left the world that had loved him so
much. His eyes and mind empty and sole less. A waste...
The pain inside that I felt wasn't new, but it was unfamiliar. It was a sadness that I had grown
accustomed to masking with an alcohol filled numbness that helped me cope with a death that I
couldn't figure out how to understand. I wanted to understand it. I wanted to make sense of it and to fix
it.
But I couldn't fix it.
What was; is. And what is; is just the way that it is...
My breath began to slow as my tears began to slow and eventually come to a stall. I slowly
opened my eyes and stood up. I took a deep breath and wiped the remainder of the tears that had
stained my cheeks. I looked around the neighborhood I had lived in for so many years. My vision was
fresh and renewed like a plastic filter was pulled off of my eyes and I realized something.
The world was the same as it was when I had started my run.
The sun was in the same place in the same sky, the street was covered with the same trees and
the same houses. Nothing had changed about the world that I lived in. But I realized something else. Despite the fact that everything around me was the same, there as
something that was different. The trees looked the same, but felt different. The sun too was the same
brightness in the sky, but its rays felt different on my skin.
With another deep breath I picked up my feet again. Right foot, left foot. I started to run again,
the same as I had before down the same street that I had just stopped on, but the street was new and
fresh, my mind was new and fresh.
I turned down my street to head back to the house that I had lived in for so long and had so
many sad memories attached to. I felt my skin heat up again. My face tingling and the fair standing up
on edge with anxiousness.
'Would I every be able to deal with it? With this place. With the untimely death of someone that
was so close to me? Someone I loved so much and held to such high standards? Belittled and taken
away from me in such a tragic way?'
I circled up to my driveway again slowing to a walk and taking a breath.
A deep inhale through my nose, an exhale out of my mouth. The heat left a little from my face I
exhaled. The breath was cleansing and with it I felt a little better. I kept walking, approaching the back
door of my house and took another deep breath. Inhaling and exhaling, concentration on the breath,
detaching myself from the emotion that was brought upon by the sight of the door and concentrating
only on the inhale and exhale of my breath. I realized then that it wasn't the world that was different, it
was me that was different.
I didn't know how I was going to make it though this.
I opened up the back door, back into the kitchen, and back in front of the fridge.
I didn't know how I was going to make it through this day.
I opened up the refrigerator and looked at the bottle I had picked up earlier. I felt the heat again
on my face. I picked the bottle up and stared at it.
Inhale, exhale.
I looked at the bottle again and thought of my dad again. Deep inhale.
I miss you dad.
And with a deep exhale my head cleared slightly, and I put the bottle back in the fridge, closed
the door and walked out of the kitchen. With one last breath I looked back at the refrigerator door one
more time, speckled with memories from an old life with one more deep inhale, and with an exhale I
turned off the light and walked out of the room.
I didn't know how I was going to make it through the week, tomorrow, or even the rest of the
evening. But I knew I had made it through this moment without a drink. I knew I would make it if I
could take each moment one step at a time.
Right foot, left foot.
By Katie Cordova
Standing in front of the refrigerator, staring at its closed, dingy yellow stained front, and
speckled with a collection of magnets that I had no idea why they were there or where they had come
from, my mind was both blank and running a million miles a minute. I was conflicted on what I should
do. What the right choice at the moment would be. Weather I should give into my momentary desires or
be strong. Strong like I was unsure how to do.
It's funny how you have the chance to start fresh again as the sun rises each morning. It's as if
the darkening of the earth from the sun setting deep into the west cleanses it's people and washes all of
their past problems away. And when the sun breaks the eastern horizon again, the possibilities for the
future always seem endless. Life seems finally changeable, and even if just for a little while, history
seems to not exist.
I promised myself on this day, as I had on almost every other day, that I would start this one
anew and fresh and full of hope for the future. Not to be distracted by my sins of the past and to forgive
myself and for a little while. All of my dreams that I had been so fearful of seemed possible in those
moments.
But then we get dressed just as we always do, and we brush our teeth just as we always do, and
we get in our cars and we drive to our jobs and we say out niceties and preform our tasks and we smile
and nod. We direct our smiles towards a secret enemy and share a joke with an unwanted acquaintance,
and swear under our breath at a boss we are jealous of. Then we get back in our cars and drive home
again, just as we always do.
And through the course of our day we are imprinted again by our choices that we make, and are
reminded of the life we live, and the past that eventually lead to where we are standing at that moment
and the habits we held onto so closely, locked deep inside of us. And as hopeful as the new day started,
it is after we remember again who we really are that our lives seem inevitable and our pasts come back
to confront us, face to face. To mock us and say, you were weak this whole time.
Today I had woken up, holding my clean slate in my hand, and declaring that today I was going
to choose not to drink. That today, instead of drinking, I would go for a run as a means to deal with my
emotions. That instead of masking my emotions in a booze filled fog, hiding behind having to deal with
the loneliness, the quiet inside my fathers house, I would confront the silence and deal.
But this evening, after the events of the day laid their marks down on my clean slate, I was
reminded again who I really was inside. I wasn't strong. I was lonely and I was sad.
And I was an alcoholic.
The front side of this fridge where I was standing, frozen in time, was a reminder of my past
indeed. My father was an alcoholic. I opened the door to the fridge, to my father's fridge, and looked on
the bottom shelf where the beer had always been kept. This shelf was filled for so long with a certain
brand of beer that was my dads. It was his and no one else, and growing up the sight of that bottle had
always instantly reminded me of him, and as I got older, the smell of beer on his, or anyone's breath,
always brought me back to memories of my childhood. But now the beer that was on this shelf was a
different brand. Somehow it just didn't seem right.
I picked up a bottle from the fridge and held it in my hands. It was cold. Beer always had a way
of feeling colder and crisper then any other drink. The crispness had a comforting sense about it. I
closed the door of the fridge and turned away from it with the bottle in my hand.
My face felt hot. The skin on my cheeks and on my arms had become tingling and warm. I
stopped in my path and took a few deep breaths.
“No!” I shouted aloud and quickly turned back around, swinging the door back open and
returned the bottle to it shelf. I slammed the door of the fridge and turned my back to it. 'Just go put your running shoes on and leave,' I thought to myself. 'Once you do you will be fine
and you wont want to drink anymore.' I grabbed the shoes from under the kitchen table and
immediately left the house, slamming the back door behind me.
The sun was lower in the sky and the air had a cool, sharpness to it. It reminded me in a way of
the comforting feeling of the cool sharpness of the bottle I help just minutes ago. Cleansing. “Just get
on the road, just get on the road..” I repeated as I shook my head back and forth, sitting on the step of
my back porch, tying one shoe at a time. It seemed harder this evening, my hands seemed shakier then
before. “Just get on the road, one foot in front of the other. Right foot, left foot.”
I slapped my hands on my knees, hard, just after I tied the last knot and pushed myself up and
walked down the never ending drive way. My heart pounded in my ears, my cheeks burned, my head
spun. The driveway seemed to get longer as I kept walking and suddenly everything seemed to be
overwhelming. My steps felt heavy, my shoulders were slouching and the sun, despite to crispness that
was in the air, seemed to beam down on me in an unbearable way.
'What am I doing out here?' I thought to myself. My pace slowed as if I had a sudden realization
of what I was actually doing. Like I had just woken up from a day dream.
“I can't do this.” I stopped mid-way down the drive, turned around and headed straight back
towards the house.
'I'm weak.' I thought as I was walking.
'No I'm not,' the counteractive thought came to my mind.
'No. Your WEAK' another thought jumped quickly behind the other, deafening it.
“You don't have to do this. You have the choice,' my hands began to shake.
'Yes! You! Do!' This thought was again, so loud in my mind that I could have sworn everyone
around me could hear it as well.
'Just like him...' This thought was calm.
I stood still. Frozen in time, staring at the back door of my father's house. His deafeningly quiet
house. I knew what he chose. I didn't have to make the same choices that he did. I didn't want to...
I turned around one last time back down towards the street again. I shook my hands and my
arms out, breathing deeply. Determination was in my mind and all I could see in front of me were the
next few steps.
'If there was a neighbor watching me out their window right now, they must think that I was
nuts,' the thought suddenly popped in my mind. My lips cracked as a smile came ever so slightly to my
mouth and with that fleeting thought in my mind, I reached the bottom of the driveway and picked up
my feet and broke out into a slow and steady run. Out onto the street and away from that house. With
each step, the little house bounced up and down from the view behind me, bouncing further and further
away.
“Okay, you got this. You can do this,” I chanted aloud as my feet hit the ground. My breath
quickened at first, but then slowed rhythmically as is the melody of a song. The earth around me was
still. The trees motionless in the absence of wind in the crisp evening air. The slightest sweat broke on
my brow, the cadence of my heart beat leveled off as I rounded the corner of the next street.
The pounding of my feet against the concrete on the side of the road became methodical.
Right foot, left foot. Right foot, left foot.
The earth around me was quiet still. Too quiet possibly.
Thump thump, thump thump.
The silence became all too real as I looked around and began searching.
'Ugh' My thoughts began to return to me in the absence of outside distraction. 'Dad.' I shook my
head physically as the memory of my father came to my mind. 'Why.' I thought again.
“Why!” I rose my hands up to the sides of my ears as I looked up to the sky and shouted the
word aloud.
Inhale, exhale. My cheeks began to burn again as I started to remember why I chose to drink on a regular basis.
Inhale, exhale. The thoughts were strong in my head, and they hurt to think about. The
memories that I had of my dad, and everything that happened with him were still fresh in my mind. So
fresh I was unsure how to deal with them.
Inhale, exhale. Inhale, right foot. Focus on the road. Exhale, left foot. Chin up, head up. Straight
ahead. Look only at the road in front of you, the steps in front of you that you have to take and nothing
else. Right foot, left foot.
'Why didn't he choose life?' The thoughts came back to me as I kept running. 'Why didn't he
choose us?' They were louder this time. 'Didn't he see that we loved him? That his children wanted to
be with him? That we needed him to keep living!?' My foot steps became louder. Instead of their
rhythmic meditative cadence, the steps began to pound in my ears. RIGHT FOOT, LEFT FOOT.
'Why did he have to drink?' My thoughts circled and my skin started to become hot again and
tingle on it's surface. My heart pounded a little harder with each pound of my foot steps onto the
concrete earth.
'Why did he have to drink himself to death!' The words yelled at me in my mind.
'He left himself for dead! Dead on the ground! On the ground for me to find him. His child!'
Tears sprung to my eyes and my breath became so rapid it became difficult to breath. I ran faster, trying
to out run the tears, the heat on my skin. Trying to outrun the immediate pain. The loss of a life.
But I just couldn't run fast enough...
My pace slowed as my feet stumbled. I tripped over myself and my came to a sudden halt. I
stopped and sat down on the curb next to the street draping my hands over my face as tears poured
down my cheeks and my quickened breathing turned into gasping sobs. I could hear the sound and feel
the pain of my heart breaking into two.
My dad, my friend, had died. I would never see him again or talk to him again. I had to witness
him making the choice of drinking himself into his death for years. Standing in front of him and in
front of his doctors listening to him say it wasn't him, it was us. He didn't have the problem, we did.
My sobs grew louder as I grasped my chest with my hands as I gasped for air. The pain my
heart grew deeper and more physical with each breath.
For years I had begged for his change as I watched his mind slip in and out of reality, eventually
reaching to the point where his reality no longer had any rhyme or reason or even meaning inside of it.
And I found him that day.
Laying on his living room floor. Alone.
A man that had owned the love of a women, the adoration of four children. Of friends, of family
and a passionate love for the life that he lived everyday; had died alone, and rotting, without a sole to
know or to find him there. With only the bottle by his side as he left the world that had loved him so
much. His eyes and mind empty and sole less. A waste...
The pain inside that I felt wasn't new, but it was unfamiliar. It was a sadness that I had grown
accustomed to masking with an alcohol filled numbness that helped me cope with a death that I
couldn't figure out how to understand. I wanted to understand it. I wanted to make sense of it and to fix
it.
But I couldn't fix it.
What was; is. And what is; is just the way that it is...
My breath began to slow as my tears began to slow and eventually come to a stall. I slowly
opened my eyes and stood up. I took a deep breath and wiped the remainder of the tears that had
stained my cheeks. I looked around the neighborhood I had lived in for so many years. My vision was
fresh and renewed like a plastic filter was pulled off of my eyes and I realized something.
The world was the same as it was when I had started my run.
The sun was in the same place in the same sky, the street was covered with the same trees and
the same houses. Nothing had changed about the world that I lived in. But I realized something else. Despite the fact that everything around me was the same, there as
something that was different. The trees looked the same, but felt different. The sun too was the same
brightness in the sky, but its rays felt different on my skin.
With another deep breath I picked up my feet again. Right foot, left foot. I started to run again,
the same as I had before down the same street that I had just stopped on, but the street was new and
fresh, my mind was new and fresh.
I turned down my street to head back to the house that I had lived in for so long and had so
many sad memories attached to. I felt my skin heat up again. My face tingling and the fair standing up
on edge with anxiousness.
'Would I every be able to deal with it? With this place. With the untimely death of someone that
was so close to me? Someone I loved so much and held to such high standards? Belittled and taken
away from me in such a tragic way?'
I circled up to my driveway again slowing to a walk and taking a breath.
A deep inhale through my nose, an exhale out of my mouth. The heat left a little from my face I
exhaled. The breath was cleansing and with it I felt a little better. I kept walking, approaching the back
door of my house and took another deep breath. Inhaling and exhaling, concentration on the breath,
detaching myself from the emotion that was brought upon by the sight of the door and concentrating
only on the inhale and exhale of my breath. I realized then that it wasn't the world that was different, it
was me that was different.
I didn't know how I was going to make it though this.
I opened up the back door, back into the kitchen, and back in front of the fridge.
I didn't know how I was going to make it through this day.
I opened up the refrigerator and looked at the bottle I had picked up earlier. I felt the heat again
on my face. I picked the bottle up and stared at it.
Inhale, exhale.
I looked at the bottle again and thought of my dad again. Deep inhale.
I miss you dad.
And with a deep exhale my head cleared slightly, and I put the bottle back in the fridge, closed
the door and walked out of the kitchen. With one last breath I looked back at the refrigerator door one
more time, speckled with memories from an old life with one more deep inhale, and with an exhale I
turned off the light and walked out of the room.
I didn't know how I was going to make it through the week, tomorrow, or even the rest of the
evening. But I knew I had made it through this moment without a drink. I knew I would make it if I
could take each moment one step at a time.
Right foot, left foot.
Saturday, March 29, 2014
Why you should be on a restrictive diet - and funny stories of them.
I have a tendency to ask a lot of questions when I eat outside of my home. I always ask what comes on a particular item. I ask if it has dairy, I always make sure I know if there is meat. Is it frozen, does it come with... have that... spread with what??? And the person that is helping me usually doesn't mind, but sometimes you can tell they really don't feel like answering my questions, and when I do get that gleaming eye or smirky tone from an employee about answering my questions, I tend to talk about it to my husband.
The other day, apparently I was saying something and my 7 year old asks, "Mom, why don't a lot of people like you." I laughed and explained I ask a lot of questions and people don't always like my questions. To be honest, I'm really not that bad. If something seems complicated, I generally stay away from it to begin with, and for this reason I tend to frequent the same places on a very regular basis if we do go out to eat because I already know how to handle it.
But I AM a picky eater. I eat a lot, and I do eat a lot of variety, and I eat some funky foods. But I also DON'T eat a lot of different kinds of foods (beef, pork, dairy, non-vegan fats,white starch... other stuff). I was a vegetarian about a decade before it became trendy to be a vegetarian. Back in the day before there were little V's and GF's and icons of plants all over the menu to tell if something was veggie friendly, so when I went out I developed a habit of asking a lot of questions to find out what was in the food.
"Oh, well it just has bacon bits, that's not real meat."
Really?
So last winter we ended up in the middle of no-wheres-ville Texas in a cheap motel with a totaled car in the middle of apparently the only ice storm Texas has ever seen in their entire history. So when we left the next morning we had to get breakfast at one of 2 options, so we swung by Sonic with the mindset that they would have an egg wrap thing. Despite the fact that I eat meat now, there's no way I'll ever eat fast food meat. Fake meat... Faeat... feet....get it?
So when we pulled up I very politely said
"Excuse me, do you have anything that doesn't have meat in it."
"What do you mean.?"
"Like, no meat. Like, an egg and cheese only type of thing."
"I don't understand. I mean, we have chicken? Is that what you mean?"
I said thank you and left.
The point is, is that people don't know what the heck food is. We eat anything we want, and we do no research to what it comes with or how it's cooked, and then we get surprised when things happen. Like the number on the scale and the cholesterol charts going up.
So my husband announced that he wanted to loose some weight. So me, as his totally supportive and nutritionally educated, yet completely NON pushy or demanding wife... gave him some gentle advice on how to do that. Specific things he should watch, especially fats because he has family history of high cholesterol. So we went out to eat one day after church at a breakfast place. We both love a good omelette so he glanced at the menu, told me what he wanted, and then went to use the restroom. So as I looked over his item I noticed that this particular omelette had avocado in it. And cheese... and sour cream.. and bacon.... My heart started to hurt just looking at it.
So when the lady came I ordered what he wanted. Who am I to dictate what he eats! Except I got it with no cheese... or sour cream. And fruit on the side instead of bread...But I left the bacon on there, otherwise it would have been borderline a completely different omelette. When he came and sat down and I told him what I did he simply said, "Oh. I didn't even know. I just saw the avocado and thought it looked good."
The issue with my wonderful husband is that that man will eat anything. And because he has zero restrictions in his diet, he has never been trained to look at the details of what is in an menu item. He sees one or two ingredients that look good to him and goes for it.
So I urge people to develop a restrictive diet. Heck, even a fad diet like Paleo or GF if you want. Give up SOMETHING. There are PLENTY of things in this world you should not be eating and frankly I'd advise people to give up quite a few things in their everyday diet, but if your new to this then you don't want to overwhelm yourself. Just start off with something. One COMMON thing, like cheese, or sour cream, or bacon, or red meat, or butter, or... you get the point. Something that causes you to say, Oh, I should investigate what is in my food to see if that one thing I can't eat is in there.
There is no reason an omelette should include 4 types of fats, 3 of them high saturated fat. It's down right awful for you. By taking away even 2 of them you are reducing your calorie intake by hundreds of calories, just for that one meal.
If you are trying to make a change for the better in your life you need to teach yourself to be disciplined. Be uncomfortable with your choices. Push yourself in ways that you wouldn't have before.
People are trying to develop this freedom to say yes to everything, as if loosing your discipline in life is good for you or something. But I urge you to say NO when you don't want to. No to another cookie. No to sitting on the couch, NO to waking up feeling guilty every day.
Become who you have always wanted to be.
Dream Big. Inspire Others. Run Hard.
Thursday, March 20, 2014
Dream
I have a "motto" that I live by. Like most people in this day and age, you have a hashtag of some sorts, something small and powerful to blast all over the internet that describes who you are and what you stand for. I played around for many years on what mine was until I found it...
Dream Big. Inspire Others. Run Long.
Or in short
Dream Inspire Run
I hold these values very near and dear to me. They are what I live by in my personal life, and what I spread to the world when they see me from the outside. But which one is the foundation. Which one of the trinity is the strongest and makes the other two go round.
Dream.
or in my case
DREAM BIG
Dreaming big is what drives me to do what I do. The many things that I involve my life in and take up my time, that pay me in smiles and not dollars, is because of my dream. My dream to be more; to do more; to accomplish more and see more and make a bigger difference and even grander memories. I'm not going to go into the specifics of this post on what my dreams are, as I am a little salty about them and whether or not I believe they will ever come true, but I think we all go through rough patches in our lives. Even a few days can feel like a derailment, but if your dedicated and strong willed, a few days wont matter in the long run.
Our dreams are what drive us to do what we do, which is why it is so important to dream, and more importantly to believe in those dreams, however crazy and impossible they sound.
Have you ever accomplished something you never thought you would? Can you remember the time where that was just a crazy idea in the back of your mind? Now that you have accomplished it does it still seem so crazy, or does the worry you once had seem like the crazy thing.
Don't forget your dreams. Don't squish them or make them small for others. Don't ever stop doing what your doing. Have you ever heard the term.
'Life is about finding the people who are your kind of crazy'
It's true, for every hater there is someone else who has the same passion that you do, you just have to find them.
And in our social media driven world that is often times as easy as a hashtag.
Try it.
And always
#dreaminspirerun
Sunday, March 16, 2014
Knowing when to cut a run short
I am thankful for my Garmin, cause without it I wouldn't have had this great blog post for you guys.
I went for a run this evening. I have felt fine all day, a little tight since my 8 miler yesterday, but nothing serious. I mapped out a 13 mile route and waited until the weather hit its warmest point and left for my run.
Right from the start I wasn't feeling it. Not a typical I don't feel like running feeling, but I was struggling. I know I often have the issue of running too fast on my easy runs, so I kept telling myself I wasn't feeling right because of the weather, because my legs were tight, because I needed to slow down. Lot's of reasons. And lot's of times the reasons are completely accurate. This evening was not the case.
My heart wasn't in it. My heart and mind aren't in every run that I do, but my actual heart wasn't in this one. It just didn't feel good.
I told myself I'd make it to 4 and then evaluate whether I should turn right to continue or keep going to head home. I figured after 4 miles your body is in the run enough to determine what your right course of action is. I kept going to head home. It was a difficult 5 miles. I don't often have difficult 5 miles at an easy pace.
So I plugged my Garmin in to upload my run and check out my stats.
Take note of my heart rate in this picture. This is what you don't want your heart rate to do when your running. Notice how it just keeps elevating? Even with me running at an easy pace for myself, my heart rate continued to raise. And raise.
(SIDE NOTE: I always run at about 80%-95% of my MHR. I'm not sure why, I have always known it, but it always seems to be that way no matter my pace. When I do speed work its well over 100%. My Vo2Max is about 46, so I recover well.)
Lets compare it to this one. This is the first 9 of a 16 miler I did at an easy pace. Despite the fact that my heart rate elevates slightly, over the course of time it generally stays the same.
Apparently I have a good cadence.
Disclaimer, I drank 1-2 cups of coffee before each of these runs.
Your heart rate is supposed to raise a little for the first mile or two, but then it should level off. If it doesn't and keeps raising then you know something is wrong and your heart just can't catch up.
Trust yourself and your instincts. Don't be a hero or let a pre-set number determine your day. If your not feeling good, there is probably a reason. You can always try again tomorrow.
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