C is for Casino

It's not that I've already dropped the ball on on the challenge, it's just that I've been in Las Vegas for the last 2 days and I didn't want to pay for internet service. There will be more on this topic soon....

B is for Baily

There wasn't even a question as to what to blog about for this letter. The very first thing that comes to my mind when I think of the letter B is my sweet girl Baily.

I had just turned 22 years old when she came into my life. There was nothing more that I wanted in life than to be a mother. I also really, really wanted a daughter. I was hoping so much for a girl that I convinced myself for the entire 9 months that I would be having a boy, just in case, so I wouldn't be disappointed.

Baily's entrance into the world was a little on the dramatic side. I like to imagine that she was just very comfortable snuggled into my womb, and she just wasn't ready to leave her little home. But after nearly 2 full days of labor, she was delivered into my arms via emergency c-section. Even as beat up and disoriented as I was at the time, I remember the sense of wonder I felt when the doctor said "It's a girl."

Baily was a fairly easy baby. She loved books from an early age. She would sit for hours and pretend to read. After she learned to talk, she would memorize the words I read to her and she would sit and recite the books as she looked at them. She also loved music, her cats, and the television show Bear In The Big Blue House. At 3 years old she adored Buzz Lightyear, and she told everyone that he was her boyfriend.


She was 3 years old when her sister Marissa joined our family. It was a bit of an adjustment for Baily. She was very used to being the center of everyone's world, having been the only grandchild on both sides of the family. So, jealousy reigned supreme for about a year. It was not uncommon to see Baily with an evil gleam in her eye as she pretended to hug the baby, and then push her over on her head. She outgrew the jealousy, though, and has grown into a very doting big sister.

In a little over a month, Baily will be 13 years old. I am awed and amazed at her everyday. She makes me laugh, and makes me very proud to be her mother. She is kind, and a loyal friend. She is smart, and does well in school without putting in much effort at all. She loves books as much or more than she did as a toddler, and she reads voraciously. She doesn't give much thought to what people think of her, and she's not afraid to be herself. I know that she will accomplish anything that she sets her mind to, and when I look at her it makes me feel like I must be doing something right.

I love you so much Baily, my Bubbly, Bouncy, Beautiful girl!!!!

A: A really Amazing letter of the Alphabet and a woman named Amy

Today I was reading one of my favorite blogs, which is written by a friend of mine named Amy. She's a cool chick who is really open to sharing her journey in life and self discovery and I am constantly inspired by her. It seems that she has taken on a new project: The A to Z Blogging Challenge.

I have followed Amy on a creative journey before. I was following her Flickr stream when she was first attempting 365 days of self portraits, another instance in which I have been totally inspired and in awe of this woman. I gave the 365 days a shot, too, but I was never nearly as interesting or creative as Amy or the other people I admired. I can't remember exactly how many days I made it, but I think it was around 118.

As soon as I read about the challenge, I thought that it was something that I wanted to do, as well. For months, maybe even a year, it has been in my mind that I want to blog more and work more on my writing. But, today I have been more focused on the time I have to spend with my daughters than on anything else, and I figured I wouldn't come up with anything today and therefore I would fail the challenge immediately.

So, with just a couple of hours left in the day to come up with my "A" topic, I was running words through my mind, trying to decide what to write about. I started writing this entry intending to write about something else, but now that I am into it, I realize that I have already written about an A. AMY.

Of course, now I feel slightly stalkerish and weird....but there you have it. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't be writing anything. This specific blog entry is really unremarkable, but I am tired after a horrible night of sleep last night and I know I can't come up with anything better. Hopefully the rest of the month with be better for me, or at least give me one or two days of at least halfway decent prose, but only time will tell. At least this is something to keep me motivated.

And, Amy....THANK YOU....
You wrote today that you need inspiration and you needed to inspire. Well, you inspire me, so hopefully that's worth something.

A little love on Valentine's Day

Let’s face it: I am a LOVE junkie. Ever since I was a little girl I have been infatuated with a good love story. One of my early memories is of a Cinderella storybook I read at my preschool. I remember sitting all alone and pouring over those pages with reverence. I’m fairly certain I started looking for my own Prince Charming immediately afterward. I know I am not the only woman who feels this way. Many of us grow up wishing for the dream wedding and the happily ever after. And, even though I disappointed myself by failing in my first marriage, I still want to believe in soul mates and that one deep, true love of my life.

I recently watched a movie called “Paper Heart”. It was a faux documentary about a girl who didn’t believe that she was capable of falling in love. She went across the country interviewing people and listening to their stories of what love meant to them and what it was like to fall in love. Now, it doesn’t take much to get me thinking about love, because I am living my very own epic love story. But, the movie, along with the fact that it is Valentine’s Day made me want to put my feelings about love down in words.

Someone once told me that love is a choice, not an emotion. I go back and forth about this, and I can’t decide whether I agree that this is possible in regards to romantic love. You can choose to give yourself to another person and make a life with them and be happy. But, is that really love? I have to ask that question, because when it comes to the love I feel, there was no choice. This love chose me. It completely blindsided me, knocked all the air of me, and tied me up in knots that I will never, ever be able to undo. And, I couldn’t be happier about it.

My whole world shifted the very second that I first made eye contact with Ron. It may seem unbelievable to some, but it is the honest truth. I looked up, and looked into his eyes and my heart started pounding and I started to shake. He smiled at me, and that was it. I was completely done for. After that first look, I could not get him out of my head for even a second. I knew my life would never be complete without him in it.

And, immediately, there was a connection between us that was unlike anything I have ever experienced. It felt like we had known each forever. Everything about him put me at ease and made me feel so comfortable.

As the years go by, it just gets better. Every time my phone rings or an email comes in, I feel giddy. Every time he walks in the door from work, my heart beats a little faster. Every time I wake up and feel him next to me, I am enveloped in a sense of comfort and safety and pure happiness. I love him for everything that he is, and everything that he is not. I love him for the person that he helps me to be. I love what we are together. It is a love that is pure and exists outside of any pressures or expectations. And, it's not a choice. I couldn't stop it if I tried. It's the most beautiful, incredible gift and I feel so blessed to have been given the opportunity to feel this kind of love.

Monday Ramblings

The other day I made a statement that I’m sure offended the person I was talking to, and I can definitely understand why that would have been. The words came out of my mouth with a venomous tone, but the negativity was not directed at the person I was speaking to. My discontent stemmed from my general feelings about materialism and society’s tendency to give value to certain things as status symbols. I try not to be judgmental. People are free to make their own choices as to what they like and what they don’t like. But, I suppose there are times when I feel that the reasons people choose the things they surround themselves with a more than just a little problematic.

I know that I am not what most people would consider a “cool” or “trendy” person. People don’t envy me, or pass me on the street and think ‘That woman has it together.’ I don’t care about things like that. I don’t have any desire to impress people or portray a certain image based on the clothes I wear or the car I drive. In fact, I would go out of my way not to purchase or use certain brand names because of the impression I feel they give.

Now, I’m not trying to be all self-righteous here. It’s not that I don’t like nice things or things that are aesthetically pleasing. I am certainly willing to spend a little extra money on items that work better or that are made better and longer-lasting. I am not above buying something just because I think it is beautiful. But, I try to make good decisions. I try to be a wise consumer and support companies and businesses that have good service and business practices. Above all, I want to set a positive example for my children.

Children are marketing targets at such an early age these days. I can see how easy it is for them to be swept up in the appeal of shiny new toys and clothes that promise happiness and popularity. But, things don’t provide true happiness. True happiness comes from love, relationships, experiences, and God. I look around me and see greed, want, and excess everywhere. I see people falling into a trap of trying to fill up empty holes in their lives with material things; maybe because they don’t know any better. I feel sad for those people, for what they might be missing in their lives. And, I don’t want my children to experience life this way. I want them to feel valued and worthy of who they are as people, and for what they contribute to the world around them. I want them to see the value and the worth in others for the same reasons.

One of my favorite songs is “Gone” by Jack Johnson. It’s simple, but it seems like there are lots of people out there who aren’t listening.

“Look at all those fancy clothes, But these could keep us warm just like those. And, what about your soul is it cold? Is it straight from the mold and ready to be sold?”

Look, I'm not trying to judge. The choices a person makes are solely their own. I know that I am far from perfect. But, I just want to live in a world where people place value where it really belongs. I wish nothing but true happiness on everyone in the world, as cheesy and idealistic as that may sound. And, since I've never found true happiness in material things, I assume that's not where we should be looking.

Should I blog or not?

Oh, hello blog. Remember me? I created you, I nurtured you, I grew you into a thing of beauty….

Oh, wait. I guess none of that actually happened. In my mind it might have happened. I love to write, but the things that I really want to write (oh, the stories I could tell)…well, someone might read them. And, I might piss someone off. It could make my life complicated; as if it’s not complicated enough already.

There might be another reason why I’m reluctant to write. I recently re-read my old diaries. I’ve been keeping diaries for as long as I have been able to spell (or misspell, whatever the case may be). And the truth is; I embarrass myself. Sometimes I feel like such a fool for things that I have written, even if it was meant for my eyes only. I actually wrote in my diary when I was 15 years old that I hoped someday my daughters could read what wrote, so they would know that I could relate to them. Are you kidding me, 15 year old self??? I read the things that you did when you were 15. I don’t think it’s necessary to give your daughters any ideas. What could I have possibly been thinking? NOTHING! That’s right, NOTHING!! I obviously had not grown a fully functioning brain by that point in my life, so there is no reason to go doling out advice from one non functioning brain to another. But, I digress…my point is, that if I blog about something, and post it on the internet, there is a very high probability that a few days down the road, my more evolved, highly functioning brain is going to say “Damn, I wish I hadn’t said that.”

But, then again, I do only have two followers on this blog. Stay tuned. You just never know.

Women's Fitness Celebration 5K

It has been just shy of a year and a half since I have run in a race. The last one I finished was a fairly disappointing Race to Robie Creek (billed as the toughest half marathon in the Northwest), followed by a local 10K that I actually quit halfway through a couple of months later. Only later in the fall did I finally discover that I was anemic enough for it to be significantly affecting my daily energy level, so you can imagine what that meant for my running performance. At the time, I really felt as though my best days of running had come and gone, and I just needed to get used to it. I pretty much gave up on the thought of running races, took my iron pills, and I started running just to stay in shape and for the pure enjoyment of it. My training has been pretty mediocre, to be honest, but racing today ignited a certain spark again. And, for the first time in a long while, I'm starting to dream that maybe with a little hard work I can reach some goals that seemed very far out of reach.

The Women's Fitness Celebration has been an annual event in Boise since 1993, and has now grown to be the largest 5K for women in the nation, drawing in approximately 15,000 participants. The event organizers' mission is to inspire women of all ages and abilities to live healthy and active lives. In my opinion, they are doing a fantastic job of it. Every year, women of all ages come together with their friends and their families to enjoy an athletic pursuit and push themselves to do their best. And, most of them come back for more each year. I personally credit this race with helping me discover my love of running and racing, and for teaching me about the rewards of pushing myself.

My first first time participating was in 2002. I had begun my path towards becoming a runner about a year and a half beforehand. I was slowly getting into shape after the births of my daughters, and I had found that running was the best way to do it. My best friend told me about the race, and it sounded like fun. It's billed as a run, walk or stroll, to encourage as many people to participate as possible. The red wave is the timed competitive run, while the purple and blue wave are the non competitive run/walk waves. My best friend and I signed up for the race and chose the purple wave. We jogged and walked the course, using it more as time away from our small children to actually be able to have grown up conversation. But, I can still very clearly recall the excitement of race day and the energy that rolled through that huge crowd of women preparing to take on 3.1 miles, and I knew it was something that I wanted a piece of.

In 2003, I was running more and seeing improvements in my physical ability. I hadn't planned to run the race, but a couple of days before, at the end of a bench stepping class at the gym, the instructor asked if anyone was going to be racing. I told her that I wanted to, but that I didn't want to go by myself. She encouraged me to join her, and that was the only push that I needed. Again, we signed up for the non competitive wave. She hadn't raced since high school, and I was still very unsure of my own capabilities. This time, because I really admired her athletic ability, I pushed myself to keep up with her and ran almost the entire course. Along the way, I noticed that we were passing people with red race numbers who had started several minutes before us. It dawned on me that I would actually be able to compete with the "competitive" runners. As we came down the home stretch toward the finish line, Allison kicked, and I watched her speed away from me. I didn't have the strength or energy to follow, but she helped that fan that little flame that was burning in the back of my mind, the one that told me I could do better. And, I knew at that moment that the next year I would be coming up towards that banner with a timing chip around my ankle. I don't remember my exact time that year, but it was somewhere in the 28 minute range, something near a 9 minute mile pace.

By 2004, I was feeling much more confident and I signed up for the competitive race without having anyone to run with. I happily headed down to the start line by myself, and ended up meeting up with a friend from high school. I hadn't seen her in a few years, and she had been running quite a bit. She was with a friend who was training for a marathon, and they told me that she would complete the 5K as part of a training and run and continue on for a total of 10 miles that day. I was a little awestruck at the sound of that, and that flame in the back of my mind was stoked a bit more and began to turn into a full fledged fire. That year, I clocked in at 27:03.

My training changed and intensified in 2005 as I prepared for my first ever half marathon (the aforementioned Race to Robie Creek). I knew it was a tough race, running 8.5 miles straight up, and then another 4.5 miles down the other side of a mountain, so I didn't take it lightly. I worked hard and ran a lot of hills, and ended up with a half marathon debut of 2 hours and 22 minutes. In Sept, I met up with the same high school friend to run the Women's Fitness Celebration and obviously my hard work during the year had paid off. I chalked up another big PR, this time running 25:58.

2006 was a bit of a plateau year. I started out the year running hard and I caused myself a little injury. It put a damper on my Robie Creek training, which almost resulted in me not running the race. In the week leading up to it, I decided to go for it and just have fun. I ran just a few seconds slower than the previous year. And, my September 5K tradition continued, this time with just a two second PR, 25:56. The lack of huge results didn't discourage me, though, and I began to plot my next move.

I was ready to take on a full marathon in 2007. I ran long, I ran hard, and I ran hills in preparation of my first 26.2. I was on a mission and even though it was hard I never wavered. I was rewarded by smashing my Robie Creek PR to bits, and running the course 18 minutes faster than before. 3 weeks later, I ran my first marathon in 4 hours and 15 minutes. By this time, it had become pretty obvious to me that running longer distances at a little slower pace was much more comfortable for me, so any kind of speedwork was quickly thrown on the back burner. Coming off my marathon high, I ran only sporadically the rest of the year. My 5k time was 26:01, and that would be the last time I would run the Women's Fitness Challenge (or any 5K race, for that matter) until today.

There has been no racing, no putting stress on myself to perform, and my iron levels seem to be back to where they should be. I've lost a little weight, and I've been running pretty decent paces regularly, but not necessarily pushing myself. Signing up for the race was sort of a whim. I missed running it, but I hadn't really been thinking about it too much. In fact, I didn't even really think I would be in town. But, since I was, and since my sister in law was running, I decided I would, too.

I have very recently run 3.1 miles in less than 25 minutes, albeit on a treadmill, and near sea level. That seems like cheating a little, but still when I was given the option of lining up in front by saying that I would finish in 25 minutes or less, I took the chance. Honestly, though, that seemed pretty far fetched to me. I expected to PR, but probably by just a few seconds.

The pass to the front of the line turned out even better than I expected. I don't think there were more than 30 people in the warm up area. There was time to run a little and warm up, without being grouped in with thousands of other women, and not even being able to move. Just a few minutes before the start, we moved out to the front of the start wave, just behind the elite runners. The anticipation was building, and then finally, the gun. We were off.

I didn't wear a watch, and I wasn't listening to my iPod; it was just me and the 30 or so women around me. I took off hard, but I really had no idea what sort of pace I was running. I just know that even though it didn't seem like I wasn't moving all that fast, I was hurting like I was. I guess that's a product of not running different paces enough. I'm not very in tune with my body. I was passing people, though, and not being passed very often. I wish I knew for sure, but I have a feeling that I ran that first mile pretty damn fast for me.

Shortly after the one mile marker, there is a little hill. It's not even a quarter of a mile, and it's not really all that steep. It's enough to hurt a little, though, when you are trying to run your 5k pace. For me at least. It's the only hard part, though, and I told myself that over and over and over again. Get up the hill as fast as you can and you will start to recover. Push yourself just a little bit harder than you think you can. I was past the worst part, but I felt myself slowing down a little. A couple of people passed me. I thought to myself, 'you're not going to run in less than 25 now. Just slow down and enjoy the rest of the race'. And then, the other voice in there said 'you have no idea how fast you are going. No one is getting that much farther ahead of you. How fast are they running?' Yes, all this internal conversation. If you have run, you know what I am talking about. If you haven't run, I challenge you to go out and listen to those voices. They are entertaining.

I thought back to the 10k last year that I quit. It's a rather ironic story. I was running with my then boyfriend, now husband and he was in really good shape. I was not. The race started and within a quarter of a mile, I couldn't hang with him. I watched him roll off into the distance and I got pissed. Not just a little. A lot. Not really at him, but at myself, for not being as fast as him. For not being as dedicated or working as hard to get into shape. It made me feel small, and like I wasn't good enough. I don't know why I put that on myself. No one one is holding me up to any unattainable standards...but I suppose that's another issue altogether. So, as I watched him disappear, I decided I didn't want to run. I thought I must be going really slow and why bother to run 6 miles at a 10 minute mile pace. I turned around, and ran back to the start/finish area. Ron continued on to run on and finish in 48 minutes, which was a huge PR for him, and far faster than I would have ever expected to run, even if I had been in good shape. I wasn't running all that slow after all. He was just running really fast. Here comes the ironic part. Looking back at the times of the finishers afterward, we found out that I would have WON the woman's 10K if I had continued. Not just my age group. The whole race (it was a small race, but still). Live and learn....and back to my current story.

So, I thought about that day. I thought about what it was like to just give up. And I asked myself if it really hurt to run as fast as I was running. And, I asked myself if I could go any faster. The answer to both of those questions was no, but during this internal conversation I had covered a little more ground, and the downhill portion was in sight. Keep going, keep pushing and pretty soon you can get a little respite. That down hill is enough to recover at least a little, and maybe even make up a little time.

I rounded that corner and started down the hill. I was really unaware of the other runners around me by that point. I didn't have any rabbits I was chasing. I don't know if anyone passed me. But, as I started down the hill, I saw a familiar face. Or rather, the back of a head and a camera. It was one of my former co workers. "Marty Herceg!!", I said, and he turned around smiling. He asked me how it was going and I said good. I passed on by, and hoped that he wasn't taking a picture of my backside as I passed. I heard him yell "You've still got the Hawaii tan!", and that made me smile. I pushed on a little harder.

The last part of this course is sort of hard. You run up one side of the road right past the finish line, then make a u-turn to run up the other side of the road to the end. It's so hard to be so close to the finish line and know you still have a little way to go. I was hurting a lot near the end. I wanted to slow down, and I probably did slow down a little. But, in the last tenth of a mile you pass by "tuxedo row". A bunch of men stand in the middle of the course in tuxedo jackets and cheer you and slap your hand as you go by. It's a good pick me up, because you don't want to look like you are in pain and suffering in front of them, so you suck it up a little.

Of course, by this time, I could see the clock, and that was my biggest motivator. I could see that the seconds of 23 minutes were ticking away. I had run much faster than I had expected. If I had it in me, I could have sprinted for the line, and shaved off a few seconds. Would I have made it in under 24 minutes? Probably not. But, at this point, it doesn't matter. I ran under the clock at 24:10. Nearly a 2 minute PR. Enough to leave me hungry for more, and wondering, just where does my speed top out? How much more am I capable of? I really can't wait to find out.