Un Tethered

In the beginning, there was a sense of separation. A separation from the only space known for the last decade. Floating wildly out of control with nothing to land on.

A divorce.

The core exploded into an unfathomable dusting of minutiae. Time began to pass. The minutiae encountered many other minutiae from times that had passed.

Because here, like attracts like. and thus, creation came.

Something new was born. Something never before. With the familiarity born from like attracting like the known became.

And the became was.

the minutiae was better.

 

 

Health

I have written before about my journey into weight loss. This post brings a little different of a vibe. After getting down to 130 lbs. I began to experience many minor injuries: the one that was a deciding factor for me: I popped my calf. No kidding! I was playing softball, rounded third base to run home and I heard a pop. Much like when you twist a can of biscuits and get the living daylights scared out of you! I hopped across home plate on one leg, yes; I did score.  But this began the process of recovering. I stopped eating healthy and decided to let my body heal from what had become a disordered relationship with eating and exercising.

My body has a natural set point. That set point is at 175. I can eat what I want, and my weight stays the same. Since I am only 5’4″ that is not ideal. I took two years to discover that my body is physically capable no matter what my weight. I have completed a marathon, continued to play softball (with no injuries), and managed projects on my property that require functional physical exertion. I overcame a deep depression. Finished my undergrad degree and began grad school. I worked jobs that weren’t in line with my plans. I have traveled, I have loved, and I have grieved the loss of love. There is one thing that changed during this time: I became employed at an agency that is in line with my plans.

Here it is 2016. I went from 175 to 155. I made one adjustment to my life in the last nine months: I MOVE MORE than I did. That’s it. I eat the same things I did. I began to incorporate walking into my routine. I do not hit 10,000 steps a day. At max, I will. But for the most part, I hit about 7000. I don’t know because I don’t track it. I am writing this because I see so many posts on Facebook about detoxes, cleanses, and programs that are expensive and ultimately ineffective over time. I still eat the same. A lot of starches, a lot of carbs, and not many vegetables. Protein and carbs seem to be the bulk of my eating repertoire: and my body is okay with that.

I found some measurements from 2013 which is when I began the journey of becoming mentally healthy and right with food and my body. I weighed 156 then, and I weigh 155 now. I have lost 4 inches from my waist, 1/2 inch from my neck, and 2.5 inches from my thighs. My scale reflects little to no change. I have not set out to lose weight. I have not changed my eating habits: there is no weekly prep of food. The last two weeks I have begun running again. Whereas before I was running with the purpose of losing weight, I am now running with the sole purpose of calming my mind. I don’t cover great distances. I run on a treadmill. I am increasing my mileage very, very slowly. I have no goals on time or distance. I just run for calm. I will play softball. I have incorporated Yoga also to ease my mind. I do stretches so that I do not encounter injury again.

My point?? Spending money on detoxes DOES NOT sustain you over the long run. Three day cleanses don’t work. 21-day programs only set you up to encounter disordered thoughts and feelings of guilt and shame. If you want health, it IS as simple as moving more. That’s it. The magic wand just requires you to walk. Not run. Not buy anything. Just stand up, take a step, and greet the world with who you are. I guarantee you will experience the revelation of just how insanely beautiful you really are. 1724173_10208250134350821_6305453152174661136_n

Age

Just like weight on a scale is a numerical representation of a body’s relationship with gravity, age is a numerical representation of a body’s relationship with time. Neither number adequately conveys the inherent health or wisdom of a person. As our readings and panel communicated rather clearly age, and the expected behaviors or social developmental cycles, are being blurred further and further by individuals forging their own path. I have seen this cycle play out many times in many different ways in my life. I will share some to demonstrate how the benefit of time after an event has given me wisdom, regardless of my age.

I have always defied the developmental norms; I had difficulty with certain letters at a young age but never received speech therapy, I was able to read complex novels earlier than my peers, I could quickly demonstrate mastery of a subject without any prior teaching, I had a child early on, I married later than average, and I am finishing school at an older age. All these things have defied societal expectations of when something should or shouldn’t happen. The interesting thing is that no longer do those expectations have as much impact on me as an individual. It could be the expectations are blurring and decreasing because of the more global communities but it could also be because I do not really care. When I gave birth at 16 I definitely cared about how I was viewed by society.

Being a teen parent was not very easy. There were limited resources available to me in the community. I was in an odd position of being an adult (because I was responsible for another life) and yet unable to make adult decisions for myself. An example of this is when I went to get my daughter’s ears pierced. I could give permission for her to get her ears pierced but because I was under 18 I could not give permission for myself to get my ears pierced. I am pretty sure that choosing labor and parenting gave me the ability to decide a medical decision of piercing my own ears…but because the law says 18 I had to wait. I have no idea if at that time 16 year olds could make legal medical decisions in the state of Oregon as they can now.

As a parent who has parented very young and had a child as an older adult I can say that the most valuable thing that I have had is time. I have had time to educate myself on different parenting styles. I have had time to look back on my parenting and decide what I did and did not like. I am no longer a physical and authoritative parent, which really makes my older children uncomfortable. I think that wisdom can be looked at as a reflection of time and bettering ones self. The process does not look like any cookie cutter expectation nor can it be quantified by x amount of successes. Conversely I do not think that attaining wisdom around certain life experiences automatically designates someone as wise.

I have an eight year old whom I would say is very wise, yet he does not follow societal expectations of what is right or appropriate. Ever since he was young he has been very open and honest. He has shown a strong propensity to not respecting authority just because someone is older. This is very uncomfortable and very liberating. It is uncomfortable because I have to change my belief that children should behave a certain way towards adults. It is liberating because he has a lot of confidence in social situations that I do not have. What is consistent in him is that he respects people who respect him. It does not matter if they are old or young. It is freeing to approach people focusing on mutual respect instead of informal communication rules.

Informal communication rules are the rules that bound me from making waves or cowtowing to authoritarian roles. Right now this battle looks like elementary schools that are becoming less individualistic and more focused on boxed roles. This is really relevant to me because of a lecture I attended on aging. My biggest take away was an activist’s goal of getting arrested for civil disobedience this year. I really enjoyed the panel, especially hearing from the activist. Her statement of, “What are they going to do to me? Take away my social security? They already are!” really reignited the social advocate in me. All in all, wise or not, that is what I think will impact others. Being the type of person who advocates for justice and equality for all. This is not anything a numerical representation will ever adequately convey.

26.2 part deux

2 days later: I am doing another marathon. May 2014 the Rock N Roll Marathon in Portland. This time with a group. I may or may not train. Stay tuned!

26.2

Well? I did it. I finished the Portland Marathon. I want to share some of how I am feeling and how it felt while I was doing it. Most importantly, to my team, my husband and my youngest son. They were there for me: at mile 1, mile 11, mile 20, and at the finish line. If they hadn’t of been at mile 20 I would not have finished. The conversations with Elijah at each stop are a blog post all their own. He went from disbelief, to awe, to concern, to pride. I would like to believe I did too. But pride continues to allude me. Why?

Because I walked.

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See that belly? I hadn’t trained at all. Nope, no walking, no running….nada. Except for increasing my activity levels: 6 hours of mopping, cleaning and organizing closets, cleaning out the garage, the laundry room, moving heavy things, and sorting. I did a lot of reaching, stretching, lifting, carrying, rest, and repeat. That is all I did. When I registered life looked different and then a small series of overtraining injuries and a realization that I was heading into addiction regarding food and exercise encouraged me to really step back and honor myself.

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Apparently when you register early you get a low number! It has nothing to do with your speed…but most people think it does. So if you want to impress people register early and get the lower number. They’ll look at you in awe (probably not but you never know).

I seriously carb loaded the day before…I think. If carb loading means I ate a ton of carbs and not really anything else than that is what I did. I had waffles, oatmeal, pasta, waffles, chorizo and potatoes….it was delightful. Until that evening and the next morning when I begin to have the realization that too many carbs is similar to protein shake farts <–seriously drink a protein shake or two in a day and you’ll see what I mean. The morning of I had oatmeal and yogurt. Now here is where I made a novice mistake: the materials all say no backpacks allowed. I thought that meant at all, not even wearing something to carry food. It didn’t. It meant in the bag check. Oops. Lesson learned.

The first thing I did when I got downtown? Duh! I went to Starbucks and got a coffee! What else would I have pre 26.2 miles…water? Pshaw doubters!

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I met a very nice lady by the name of Susan, from Pendleton. This was also her first marathon! Yay! I was not alone, we could be starting line besties! She trained though. A lot. She had a time goal. She had excitement. I had dread. Then the sun came up and we started being an official corral. (Which does not mean you are in a cattle chute, just so you know. I was expecting the corrals I have seen at rodeos. Not the same thing, so now consider yourself informed.) I also chose that time to be brilliant and go to the bathroom line where I met my next starting line bestie….guy from Maryland who grunted at the young muscular guy exiting the port-a-potty. I am not sure if he was impressed with the cleanliness of the port-o-potties or something else.

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Look! Thousands of insane runners! This was pretty much in my head the whole time. “Marathoners are crazy. Why do they do this? What’s the excitement all about? I mean…people do this all time.” But the reality is they don’t. They should, but they don’t. I met my third and final starting line bestie, Kristin. She was super fantastic. And what made me realize and notice the hundreds and hundreds of everyday normal looking people who were here for this marathon. She used to weigh over 300 lbs. this year she has done 9 marathons. To keep herself challenged. Every year she says she’ll train. Every year she doesn’t. She was awesome and helped bring me to the present to observe and experience what was about to happen.

Did you know there are free shows on the marathon route? Aside from cowbells and random strangers shouting encouragement to me by name (side note, next time my bib will simply say YOU), there are singers singing, drummers drumming, but no maids a milking. Seriously strangers yelling your name and doing cheers = uncomfortable for this introvert.

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Alright, past the fun and games and onto the real route. I will now give you a mile by mile play of what went through my mind during this “stupid” marathon.

Mile 1: Ooohhh, entertainment! Super cool! I wonder when I’ll see Ed and Elijah. I can totally do this. I am cool for doing this. I only have to finish. Oh there’s Ed and Elijah. Okay, am I tired yet? I could opt out now. DNF? What does it even matter?

Mile 2: Game plan, I will run miles 5-10 sporadically. Until then I am walking.

Mile 3: Oh look, that lady is wearing a sweater set and pearls. Did she just come from church? Seriously. I should take a picture of that. What? Her partner also is wearing pearls? Oh my God. I better get ahead of these ladies. I can’t have old women in pearls passing me.

Mile 4: Time is going slowly. How far have I gone yet? Oh good, almost to mile 5. I can start running and walking.

Mile 5: Running, walking, running walking. I notice the elderly lady with a back hump is keeping pace with me. It dawns on me I’m probably not that fast. Oh wait, she’s also developmentally different. She’s doing this? Wow. That’s amazing. I could totally be her someday. Running, walking, running, walking. Okay, I think that was enough. I’m acting like this is a 1/2 marathon. Get it together Monica! That’s your halfway point, not the end!

Mile 6: Why is it so foggy? It was so nice going up Barbur…now this sucks. I hope it clears up. Oh look people playing xylophones on the overpass! Such a weird word. Why does the x make a zzzzz sound? Anywho moving on. Look the lady with the hump she’s passed me. Come on, come on. Keep with her. I could totally smoke her right now but I don’t need to do that. <To my ego:> shut up! We’re the same her and I. WE ARE BOTH IN THE MARATHON.

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Mile 7: I hate this stretch of street. Oh look Gunderson! Hey, I know some people who work there. If they’re here I can totally wave and be all…yeah, I am in the marathon. Catch ya later!

Mile 8: Look at all these different people. Some fast. Some slow. Some bigger than me. Some smaller than me. Some my size. Wow. Oh man! That guy has Cerebral Palsy! Mr.! You inspire me! I gotta keep going. No looking back. Ego notices him and the lady with the hump are only doing the 1/2…I say WHO THE HECK CARES? We are all here together! No matter our size or our ability…we. are. all. here. together.

Mile 9: Where are the pretzels Ed? I got some gummy bears but I am super HUNGRY. I didn’t bring food (see no backpack statement above). Hunger in a marathon is not good. I’m going to poop myself or something if I don’t eat. Oh wait. That only happens if you eat, right? Get the Ultima instead of water. That’ll have extra calories you can eat up on.

Mile 10: Food. Husband. Food. Husband. Van Morrison? Huh? Hey! There’s Beth! She said she’ll catch up to me. Cool! Hang in there lady…I am counting on you to finish this.

Mile 11: HUSBAND! BABY! FOOD? My wonderful husband is accosting the Fit Right NW employees for a bagel. Oh my God! He got me a bagel! It’s Hawaiin. Oh…yum. I am going to ration this out so my energy can be sustained. I hear there’s a bridge ahead. Uh Oh. Elijah’s concerned we have both cussed a lot…Ed wrecked his car? What? Oh no…it’s just paint. Ok. Easy peasy. Gotta go honey. I love you guys. You have to be at mile 18 or I WILL NOT FINISH THIS RACE. Got that? (Tears very close to the surface here)

Mile 12: This is a super pretty neighborhood. Where am I? Oh this turns into St. Helens Rd. or something and the bridge is at the end. Cool. Cool. I am starting to feel hungry again. Hey that couple looks nice. How can they be flirting with each other at mile 12? They must not be married. Ed and I would be snapping at each other. Well, probably not. Ed’s smart and he would’ve brought food. Just 6 more miles and I will see them again. They better have food.

Mile 13: I can’t believe I just made that kid give me his gummy bears. No shame brother! I’m doing this thing…you’re not! Give me the damn Haribo! Half fucking way!

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Mile 14: More neat music! Look the 14 sign! I better get a picture. Just to show Kyle. Huh…wait, why are the cops following me? Oh my sweet Jesus! An unopened pack of Ibuprofen in the street. Just. For. Me. Thank you LORD!

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I love you Kyle!

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The police? No way…I swear officer, I am supposed to be here.

Mile 15: Oh shit. I am not going to have the cops honking and following me the rest of the way. Speed your ass up Monica! Pass that lady. Pass the nice couple! Come on…oh wait, the couple wants to talk. Ok. He knows the route and yay! Now I do to! Kind of. Big hill up ahead. Time to motor past.

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Mile 16: This hill aint shit. Nice gradual elevation change. Not too bad. Whoa. St Johns has a kick ass hillside water tube! Seriously. I wonder if I could slide down that or swing on these vines. I gotta come back sometime to check it out. I bet Kyle would do that with me.

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Huge Slip n Slide!

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And the Tarzan vines.

Mile 17: This bridge is so beautiful. 1 more mile until I see Ed and Elijah. What? No! You’re at 20? Okay. That’s not much further. I can do that. They are opening traffic on the bridge. There go the police. Whew! Although it would be cool if they were cheering me on and honking. Crap. I hope I can still get a good picture. My feet hurt oh so bad. My feet are not meant for this much pounding. My hips are not grinding together so that is good. Oh god. I still have to finish this thing.

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Mt. Hood

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How many mountains can you see?

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More mountains…can you name them?

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Mile 18: Food. Husband. Food. Baby. I hope Beth is okay. She should be showing up here soon. Uh-oh. What if she passed me? Oh well. Then I better keep on moving. So sore. No fucking pretzels. No more fucking gummy bears. Altima it is.

Mile 19: Just keep going. Just keep going. Oh my God. They have moved all the mile signs. I swear. They are tricking me somehow.

Mile 20: I see the sign. Text Ed. He’s up ahead. Yellow arches. Yellow arches. I see yellow! Oh there they are. Hi honey! Hi baby! WHERE’S MY FOOD? You didn’t bring any? Oh man! I’m i so much pain. Only 6 more miles to go. I can do this. It would be stupid to quit now. Oh you guys are having fun? Party on the corner? Giving away food? Argh. WALKERS MATTER TOO. We are struggling just as much. This isn’t a walk in the park! WHERE’S MY MEATBALL??

Mile 21: Oh you still have bagels? Ok! Thank you partiers on the corner. God bless you. What the heck is this piece of paper? ALTERNATE ROUTE? You are giving a woman who has walked 21 miles a piece of paper AND YOU EXPECT ME TO BE ABLE TO FOLLOW DIRECTIONS? THAT ARE WRITTEN? Do you know nothing of the brain function? Hello? Under stress! Hungry! I should punch you in the throat. Stupid person. Oh…there’s still volunteers telling me where to go. Oh thank God. I am sorry lady for all my mean thoughts. You gave me a piece of paper. I could eat it when I get hungry again. You are an angel for that. I won’t really punch you.

Mile 22: Oh my god. How much longer? Am I there yet? Seriously. I hate Interstate. oh wait…there’s some good restaurants here. I have to remember this. This wings place smells fantastic. Oh that sauce smells homemade.

Mile 23: I wonder what the people at the wings place would have thought if I had take their food and ran? The finishers on the end, they would probably understand. Ugh. So much pain. Gummy bears? Ok. Oh thank you Haribo. I love you. You are my favorite. Wait…these are Black Forest. Whatever. This cup has a lot of bears. I am going to eat them slowly because I loooovvveeee them.

Mile 24: Am I there yet? Interstate to Greeley? Where the fuck is Greeley? Isn’t that like an island or something? No. It’s got to wrap around over on the north side of the coliseum. Maybe. I don’t know. I could be lost. What do they do if a participant gets lost? Do they know? I would seriously cry. So much pain and lost to boot. I would make Ed come get me and drop me off by the finish line. If they said anything I would reply, “YOU GAVE ME FUCKING PAPER!” Then again….I’m in pain. I could be out of line.

Mile 25: Oh my God. Almost there. One point something fucking million to go. I’m going to die. Seriously. They have changed the mileage or something. They are feeling longer and longer. I wonder where Beth is. Hope she is okay. Keep walking. One foot in front of the other. Keep going. That pile of shit is GROSS! Someone didn’t make it. Thank god it wasn’t me. Beth is in pain too. I am not alone. We can do this.

Mile 26: Ok, this is seriously the longest mile in history. Do I know any shortcuts up to 3rd & Taylor? Oh God…it requires a hill. And what if I came up the wrong side? Oh that lady and her husband are passing me. The older lady with the Vibrams she’s kicking my ass now. Totally out of sight. Damn pain. At least my hip bones aren’t grinding. That’s good. I shouldn’t feel every bone and fiber in my feet though. Are there weightlifting classes for feet and ankles? What an overlooked area. I should check that out. If not? I shall create one and become a strong foot guru. Well, on second thought that might be weird.

Mile .6: Baby. Ed. Baby. Ed. Almost there. Oh shit. So much pain. I don’t know if I can make it. What? The finish line is right there? I can see it! I can do it.

The End: I did it. Ed was right there, so was baby Elijah. I couldn’t believe it. Some lady says, “You’re done! You finished!” She must have recognized the look of shock and zombie like survival mode I was in because her next question was, “Did you finish? Did you just cross the finish line?” I had to nod yes. She was forcing me to speak. And then it clicked. I was with my family. I started crying and I blubbered out,

“Never fucking again Ed.”

Elijah grabbed my hand and leaned into me. Rubbing my hand and looking at me with his big eyes. “You okay mommy?” Ed making sure I had everything I needed. There was food handed to me, a shirt, some medals, a rose, and a tree sapling. Too much to process. I was ready to go. Ed and I took some pictures. Me with Elijah and Me with Ed. I was ready to go. I wanted to smoke.

The car was 6 blocks away. I had to keep walking. More and more. Until I could barely stand upright. I got in the car and could barely move. I wanted Hale’s biscuits and gravy…pretty sure it got me through a mile here or there. It was closed. We went to Mike’s Drive In instead. I had a cheeseburger and a hot fudge and peanut butter shake. I was in the car while the boys were at a picnic table.

When I got home: I crawled into an ice bath, took a pill, and went to bed.

The biggest thing going into the future: 1) THERE IS NO CERTAIN TYPE OF PERSON WHO DOES MARATHONS, If a man with cerebral palsy,  a hunchbacked elderly woman, and a friend with a shredded meniscus can do a marathon…then so can you. 2) I don’t understand the big deal about why I should be proud. I’m not. I walked a long ways because I had no ride. That’s a fact jack.

It occurred to me, “If I can do that with no training…what could I do with training?” So it begins again.

The Face of Evil

So here’s the thing: historically evil has always been amongst us. It always lives a normal life. It’s always a person. A person with friends, family, neighbors, sometimes churches, sometimes children. Evil never appears evil because it lies within each of us.

Most bible verses around evil talk about turning away from it, not following it, and discarding it from your own thoughts and mind. We each hold the capacity to stun our neighbors and ourselves.

I’m convinced that newscasters perpetuate the myth that a normal person could never commit evil acts. It always has to be because of where they are from or what religion they practice.

Check it out: we perpetuate evil every single day when we treat others different because of a belief that they are different, or less than. Want to stop evil in the world? Get rid of your judgements, your separatist beliefs and look for the similarities amongst all those in the human race.

It’s that simple.

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The Indomitable Spirit of a Runner

I am compelled to put my thoughts down on “paper”. It has been many years since I have felt compelled to write. I have previously posted that my goal for this year is to run the Portland Marathon. I’m doing it. I have registered. And yesterday, I was scared. Today, I am determined.

“It’s supposed to be hard. If it wasn’t hard, everyone would do it. The hard…is what makes it great!” -Tom Hanks in A League of Their Own

One thing that I know to be true is that I previously hated running. To me, running was something that my crazy parents did. They would disappear for hours and come back sweaty, and focused, with crazy amounts of energy they expected me to have the same of.

I rejected running for many years because it was not something I ever wanted to do. I was a basketball player, softball player, and volleyball player. All team sports requiring intense and fast action. Short bursts of all out performance resulting in an jubilant win (or humbling loss).

After learning how to run, practicing long distances, conquering my fears, I too, am a runner.

I don’t know if you have anyone in your life that runs: whether it is a family member or a friend. If you do: you may think they are crazy, dedicated, insane, focused, or what have you. If you do not have anyone that you care for that is a runner, well, let me tell you a thing or two about runners.

For a marathon training plan that lasts 23 weeks I will need to put in over 100 hours in training. This is running two days a week and lifting weights three days a week. 100 + hours. On the road. Alone. My feet hitting the pavement. My breathing creating a pattern. My thoughts of defeat. The glory of overcoming my thoughts of defeat. All of it, is HARD. It is hard WORK. Yes, it is work. Why would anyone do this to themselves? Why am I doing this? Because running simulates real world experiences that I struggle with. Image

Say what? Yes, running simulates real world experiences that I struggle with. I experience social anxiety. I need to plan things in order to be comfortable with them. I experience anxiety in new situations. Running forces me to be equally impulsive and to equally value planning. Running puts me on the road for a set amount of time where I am faced with all the fear and anxiety. Running is the first activity that has ever challenged my intelligence along with fostering my tenacity. Yes, running is an intelligent activity. Not that you have to be smart to do it. Quite the contrary, you have to consciously (and actively) engage your frontal lobe (high level thinking) to overcome the cease and desist primal brain. The primal brain is what signals my body that I am done! Time to stop! Get off the road and GO HOME NOW! Digging deep within myself I pull upon reserves that challenges my primal brain. “Just one more mile.” “Keep digging in.” “Come on, you can do this!” “This pain you are feeling is nothing compared to the emotional pain of your past.” “Keep on keeping on.” “Just past the next sign.” “Just around the next corner, now past that mailbox.” I know that I won’t stop but my primal brain doesn’t. I get to actively practice the skills I need in order to overcome my daily struggles. Over a 100 hours of practice, fine tuning my coping abilities, humbling myself to not quite getting the time I wanted, submitting to the pain in order to breathe through it, these have all increased my quality of life over the last year. Image

And, I owe it to running.

Yesterday, when I heard of the bombing at the Boston Marathon, I was stunned. I was in disbelief that someone would do such a terrible thing. I was angry. Possibly that is what you felt as well. Today, I am reflecting on the 1972 Summer Olympics. This was a time in history when running was beginning to change. Steve Prefontaine was making running a household name, he was changing the face of athletes, and making a name for Oregon. Frank Shorter made history. He was the first American to win the Marathon event in 64 years. Things were happening, and running was becoming the sport to watch. September 5, 1972 was the day the Munich Massacre happened. On September 5th, 1972 athletes throughout the world mourned. The loss of athletes, coaches, and young men rocked the nation. Everyone was watching. Everyone was asking why. Everyone saw evil in action. Everyone felt the loss in the face of tradition. Just like April 15th, 2013.

Athletes train, and they push. They rise above obstacles. They overcome limitations. They dedicate themselves to their sport. I read a headline that said the event in Boston would change running forever. I challenge that! No. It won’t change running. Runners, wrestlers, coaches, athletes, and tv viewers have been here before. We have overcome once. We can overcome again.

We will each put in the hours required to conquer our sport. Just as you will put in the hours to support those you love who dedicate themselves to something. I will begin my training without fear of an evil act. For, in my practice of running, I will have already overcome anything worse. I will run the Portland Marathon.

I will hear Frank Shorter‘s voice urging me on, “run hard all the way, and make it hurt, and make it honest to be a worthy answer to the terrorist atrocities of a few days past.” 41 years after he spoke these words they still ring true.

Athletes: families: citizens, let us rise up and demonstrate the Indomitable Spirit of a Runner.

Sigh…

Woman I admire who is using again, the following message is for you.

I have been in your shoes. Wondering where I fit in, who I was supposed to be, and why this was happening…again. Each time I would attempt to do the next right thing and it just never happened. Losing my ability to parent was one of the hardest life experiences I have ever had. Not folding my children’s socks sucked. Not being able to hear their latest victories or sorrows sucked. Not having story time. Not being present for major life milestones. It. All. Sucked.
My disease is one that came about because it was a behavior in response to what was happening in my brain and in my heart. It was a way to numb both things because I did not know how to fix it. I know you have an idea of how to fix it. I know because we have stood here before. We have contemplated sobriety, we have sought sanity, and through the use of our strength we got through this.
You can come home again. You know I can help you get safe. I can help you get settled. I can ensure you have a safe place to feel free from anxiety in order to begin to unravel the damage. I will go to hell and back to advocate you get this opportunity. I will drive you there. I need you to want this too.
I watched you grow. I watched you gain your sense of power. I watched you give it away, and then I watched you walk away. Please. Come. Home. Call me. If you are ready to do this again just know that there will be no judgement. You are probably doing a way more thorough job of that then I ever would even want to. There is no shame sister in reaching out: you just have to make that first step.