Countdowns

After last year’s migraine inducing July 27th meltdown, I pursued a different road this year. No year gets less painful, I don’t really expect them to, but whereas last year there was chaos and disorder (culminating with me actually miscalculating the number of birthday candles needed), this year was structured and planned bitter-sweet celebration. Like every year, I made strawberry cupcakes. But this year I kept myself busy all day – there was a staff birthday lunch and I went to volunteer with UrbanLife after work. I actually had to work in quiet alone time to be with my thoughts.

Really, it was a day like any other. Which, I guess is good. That was the point, I believe, for everyone involved to have a normal, happy life. But I can’t help knowing that she’s fading from my mind. It’s hard to imagine what a 5-year old would look like today based on pictures of an 18-month old. A 5-year old is a vibrant little person, full of energy with a personality that I can’t know or experience. I’m now resigned to a world of make believe and imaginings.

All this is to say… I’m okay. I really am. I know there is a piece of my heart that will always be broken, will always be missing. But I know that despite that brokenness, my heart still beats. I still love. I still celebrate life. I take these burdens of fears and these pains of memories, I put them in their own little place that’s become a part of who I am, and I keep moving forward. I know that each day she grows I grow – not apart, not side-by-side, but as individual identities that will never not be from the same source.

In a funny way, it’s a good thing for me to have a countdown timer that’s keeping me so focused. For years my life has pretty much revolved around counting down to July 27. Today, July 28, is not about counting down 364 more days. It’s about counting down to December 5 (oddly enough, Mike’s birthday), another day that I would have said would be impossible. It’s amazing how God works. The strength He supplies is never-fading.

130 days to go

A new running partner

Let me preface this posting with a mom warning (Mom, you might want earmuffs for this). Don’t know if earmuffs work for blogs, but the point is made.

Thursday afternoon I went and got a new tattoo that I designed and have been waiting to get for a couple of months. I wanted to get it to mark a very special five year anniversary of sorts as a way of keeping an important message and memory with me at all times. The trick was, since I got the tattoo on my rib cage I knew that my 10 miler this morning might be a little uneasy. I just had to make it through the pain.

My mom told me one time she figured my sister’s and my running ability came from our father. I told her it was more the ability to fight through pain and never quit that got us those miles (although athleticism doesn’t hurt). She agreed – that was something she knew about. Life gives us all sorts of obstacles, big and small. The only thing we can ask of ourselves is to hold strong to faith, to believe in God and hope for the best. We will have fights to win and hills to climb – battles that will knock us down and almost out. But we hold on to those who love us and keep moving. And we should carry those battle scars with honor, for they were not easily earned.

Turns out, even with the pain, it was a great running day. My first sub-9:00 10 miler! 8:50, as a matter of fact. I promise not to get that tattooed anywhere, though.

134 days left to go.

Falling off the surrey

I promise I have not fallen off the wagon. The past couple of weeks, with dress rehearsals and performances, have left little time for self reflection and blogging, but I’ve been getting some limited weekday miles in and making my Saturday group runs. Last weekend we breezed through 7.5 miles. Yesterday I clogged out 9 miles – I think it was at least 90 plus humidity, blazing sun and level orange smog – and didn’t even finish last in my group. It’s the small victories, I guess. Of course, Saturday morning was painful on more than just the my-legs-only-pounded-out-seven-miles-this-week way. After our Friday night performance, which Mike and Jeff came to, I climbed into bed after 12:30. I set the alarm clock for 4:30 and prayed for sleep. We were awoken at 2:30 to flashing lights in our bedroom window. I didn’t hear sirens, so I was pretty confident our house wasn’t on fire, but I wasn’t sure about the neighbor’s. Turns out it was just a tow truck – an obnoxious and inconsiderate one, but just a tow truck. Okay, not a fire. Back to sleep.

I only mention this all as a reminder to myself the when “Quilters” rolls around in a couple of months and I’m thinking about auditioning I remember the long nights and difficulty finding time to run. Those training miles mid week are invaluable in keeping me on track, both mentally and physically.

On a positive note, I am officially registered for White Rock! I submitted my registration with a 4:30 goal finish. So, I guess that makes me all in. Finish line here I come!

Tonight’s the final performance of “Oklahoma!” and I’m ready to get back into my routine. But it’s certainly going to require me to work past those little excuses. I know that life can get busy and schedules can feel too crowded, but knowing that I’m on my way to achieving a major goal in my life – that should be enough to keep me moving one foot forward at a time.

140 days to go!

I can pencil you in…

That whole idea of running without the weight of the world seems really hard sometimes. Especially when my days look like this and my weeknights look like these.

I do it to myself. And I really do enjoy my extracurricular activities. But I’m gearing up for that there’s-not-a-single-moment-for-me-or-us time. Breathing and just being in some quiet will never be more important.

Tonight I’m going to squeeze in a 5.5-miler before a Luke’s social and OK rehearsals all while battling the hurricane Alex related storms. Just another day in paradise. Bring on the rain!