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The Amazing Thing About Mom

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Hello faithful readers… as you sit reading this perhaps, over your morning coffee, it is late evening on Sunday night and my mind has been an empty vortex of nothingness as I ponder what to write that I can share with you come Monday morning.

This troubles and annoys me at the same time. At any given moment I have ideas, thoughts, and words crowding to get out of my head. New topics to write on. New information to share. Words of encouragement to offer you. Random posts to exercise my creativity.

But when I sit down and it’s a struggle… and everything feels disjointed… well as a writer it’s the thing that bugs me the most.

Yet finally, I know what will come, and the words are ready to come stumbling out……

Perhaps in my day I’ve tried to ignore one of the things that’s been the proverbial “elephant in the room”. First of all, on this day, it’s my daughters birthday. She turned 18. A beautiful, confident young woman. It’s such a milestone birthday and one she has been excited about. I’ve focused on her and her life. The celebration of who she is.

I’ve tried to not camp on another thought crowding in. I’ve tried to focus on this as a day of celebrating and embracing life and the beauty of my daughter.

However, for me it will also remain and will forever be, the day my mother left this earth.

It’s been two years now.

There are times I mentally shake myself realizing she’s not here. Just the other morning I had made this amazing thing for breakfast and I was thinking to call her. I know better… I do.. but the urge was so strong….

She loved cooking and baking and all things involved in the kitchen. We often exchanged food ideas or she’d make something to experiment and send the leftovers to us. My favorites were random dessert nights and I could run over and get whatever treat she had whipped up while it was still warm from the oven. She was amazing with her cooking… the kid in me still wants her to make me food.

She loved cookbooks. She “read” them. She has so many that at some point I need to work my way through them. I’ve brought home some I’ve found that she had marked with sticky notes and personal insights on things she’d made. Those I want. I found an old recipe box that contained recipes written in not just her handwriting, but my grandmothers and great grandmothers.

Holidays were a time of brainstorming over using the same familiar fare, but also trying something new. I loved when she’d call about an upcoming holiday and want to know “what we were doing for dinner” …meaning both of us together. Or how she’d eagerly tell me about something new she had found to make.

I think of her when I’m going through tough days and just want to talk to her in the way only a daughter can talk to her mom.

I want to tell her that I understand now so many of her struggles with my dad who has Alzheimers… and wish I had REALLY known…. and understood the things she sought to protect me from and shoulder herself. Wish I’d known so I could’ve been more help to her. I wish I could cry on her as these days with him get harder and harder and I want advice on what to do and how to best help him. Or express my frustration to her when he views me as “the bad guy”, when the reality is, I’m the only one who does stuff for him on a daily, consistent basis, who is there for him and fighting for him.

But she was doing what moms do… in her own way… trying to handle things and protect her children. Mom always tried to simply, quietly, handle things.

I think of her laugh, her smile, the things that brought her joy. I try and live in ways that would make her proud and I want to continue to live in the legacy of strong women I come from.

Mom had a way of embracing, loving, and appreciating life even when things were hard.

She sought joy… laughter…love… hope.

My mother was a fighter until the end. She had an amazing strength that I am so thankful I got to see in new ways those last few months of her life.

I know I’m just one of many in this world. One of many who will lose or has lost someone they love. I’m not exclusive or unique or special in my loss.

But she was my mom… and totally irreplaceable to me.

Time moves on…life continues… and I firmly know and understand she’d want me to be focused on living and embracing life… taking it on full speed… she’d want me to stand up and fight and be strong and not spend time mourning or lamenting when I could be smiling.

But I do mourn her. In small moments. In unexpected moments that sneak up on me like a thief in the night, laying me low and leaving me breathless and aching inside. In times that are bittersweet. In quiet moments or remembrances of times gone by.

I often think in these two years, I’ve not really slowed down long enough to allow that deep grief to wash over me.

To be honest with you, that raw emotion scares me and makes me feel weak and vulnerable. I keep it under tight guard with a firm hand on it lest it swallow me whole.

I’ve said before… I’ll say it now… at some point…when I’m ready to bleed a lot … I will write on this deep topic of grief and grieving… and at some point.. I’ll know when.

For now…for today… in this moment…I need to just speak out loud… to remember my amazing mom… to share her memory and let my mind wander to simpler times in life before illness and disease crept into the picture to steal life.

She was an amazing woman. Kind, caring, giving even when her own resources were limited, thoughtful, generous, and so loving. Ha… if I’m being honest she was also stubborn and head strong… hmmm…. I might resemble that somewhat.

I’m ok with that.

She was my mom. She was amazing to me.

I think……………. I will always and forever…. miss her.

Conformity Won’t Know What Hit It

Conformity ~

Compliance with standards, rules, and laws. Behavior in accordance with socially accepted conventions or standards.

Conformity involves changing your behaviors in order to “fit in” or “go along” with the people around you.

Ahhhh conformity. We are all bound by it to some degree or another. Some of us willingly and unflinchingly go along with things even if we might have other ideas in our heads. Conformity silently and effectively directs our paths, thoughts, and ways of doing things.

Now hold on…. I already sense some of you might be thinking…well… you can’t just do what you want all the time….

So true. Catch the first part of the definition. To me it applies to the things in life that are kind of non-negotiable.

You have to follow laws and rules of government. You have to respect signs when you’re driving, you have to act like a respectable, decent citizen, you can’t just go blazing your way through the day and have no regard for the “structure” that we all operate in… and we have that for order and a lack of chaos.

Although… sometimes… when I get mail that states “Open now! Urgent! Open immediately!” I love just shredding it and ignoring it’s demands to do what it says. The bulk mail stamp gives it away as “junk mail”

I’m such a rebel. haha

Anyway, I digress. Now that we’ve established my post isn’t about disrupting world order by not conforming….

Let’s address where I’m coming from. The second part of the definition…

behavior in accordance with socially accepted conventions or standards.

I like how Webster’s defines it :

Simple Definition of conformity

: behavior that is the same as the behavior of most other people in a society, group, etc.
: the fact or state of agreeing with or obeying something

Again on some levels, we will all conform. We do it most likely, unknowingly at times. Other times, we move along with others to just not make waves, stand out, or be different. We don’t want to cause “conflict” or have others think of us in a different way so we just blend in. We keep out thoughts, opinions, personal likes/desires to ourselves as if being different was… a bad thing.

Having a daughter in high school, that theory is very much alive and well. I’m always telling her not to be a “sheep” following along with everyone without thinking for herself and doing what she wants. I might be having a margin of success with this but I fully understand it can take some maturity to get to that point too. When you are in high school you simply must do what everyone else does.

conformity sheep

Like sheep, we often go along with the herd. It’s comfy, right? You’re all alike and have the same focus and it requires no effort. Trust me….I’ve been a sheep too. I still am in many situations. Sometimes it’s ok to just be in the herd and hang out in the safety of all being focused in the same way. Sometimes… for me… it’s easier to stay there because it requires no effort to push me out of the fold.

But…. even then… my sheep mind is very, very active. And really, I wanna be the different sheep.

I guess with age I’ve learned some things. Yes, my mother taught me well to be polite, respectful, courteous, pleasant even in the face of difficulties, to respect those older than me, and to obey appropriate laws, rules and authority.

But…. I’ve also learned it’s ok to be… me. To think for myself, have my own take on things even if it doesn’t mesh with those around me or even closest to me.

It’s ok to not conform to an “expected” social norm. I make jokes about there being some societal “rule book” but who the heck wrote it ? and why am I supposed to blindly follow along with it…like a …sheep ?

As stated, getting older and understanding myself better and really at some points being unwilling to stay in “the box” it has allowed me to move into some areas of life where I freely, and unapolgetically feel no need to conform for anyone.

For instance, years ago when getting multiple ear piercings got boring, I had my nose done ( and yes it made my eyes water some ha) I still have it. I love how fun and carefree it is. I remember standing in line for coffee one day when a man asked me if it was just “stuck on”. I gave him my best smile and said… “nope, I have a hole in my nose” … the look on his face…. I also got a couple other unique piercings after that one…simply because I wanted to, and why not?

Or the fact I’ve been around people with tattoos for years. I have admired the art work and reasons each person had for doing it. I never felt led towards getting one… just to “get one”. To me, that is one of the most personal and almost intimate things a person does with themselves so I just wouldn’t do it to be “trendy”.

Until a specific thing began to get very real and very personal to me… enough to move me into the commitment to get my first one. And if you’ve read my other posts, you know I collected a couple more tattoos since then, pretty much a half sleeve worth. Each one with meaning and importance to me.

Maybe it’s not what a lot of middle aged women are doing…but then as mentioned… I’m not interested in conforming into a societal “norm” of what everyone my age is supposed to be doing.

I want to be out of the box… I don’t mind pushing back against the status quo…I want to experience things and don’t want to be forced to conform to expectations that are blindly followed by the majority.

“You are supposed to do this”, “You can’t do that”, “You must act this way, not that way”…

I don’t want to “conform” to those patterns. Does that make me a bit of a rebel? Maybe.

I’ll take that chance.

Or maybe it just makes me free to be who I want to be without worrying about someone else’s thoughts or opinions… to be free from staying in the box of conformity…..

To voice my own thoughts (respectfully) but be able to speak them and not feel like… I can’t or shouldn’t…because those around me don’t feel the same… to view the world through my own eyes and not someone else’s….to find beauty in things others don’t… to live out loud…. to embrace my own style through how I dress and ways I express myself.. well.. it’s hugely freeing.

There’s nothing I love more than encountering people who march to the beat of their own drum and who are doing it quite unapologetically. Inevitably, these people resonate with me.

In this world, we will all share many common things that do conform us. It’s a natural, and in some way, a necessary part of society.

But don’t forget, you, are still a unique individual designed and purposed to stand out on your own… let that shine 🙂

conformity

Oh Those High Heels

So I’m taking creative liberty here to deviate from my usual health and fitness itinerary to write about something else that I love probably just as much…

Fun and unique fashion, cool, trendy clothes, and amazing high heels.

Oh those high heels.

My mother schooled me early in life that if I was going to wear them I’d learn to walk in them properly and not “like I just fell off a tractor” ( my mother had rather interesting, colorful ways of illustrating things for me 😛

Spending some time in modeling school pretty well sealed the deal on nailing “the walk”

I’m always amused when I come into a room and the first thing I can spot is someone looking at my feet…assessing how tall I am and if I have any assistance with it.

If I happen to be around a really tall man, there is a straightening of their posture as if trying to assess my height ( which is amusing 😉

I especially love little kids. They can be so delightfully obvious…for instance… this one little girl… she started at my feet and slowly looked all the way up to my eyes when she declared… “You’re so tall!”

And probably to a 6 year old… I most definitely was…

Why yes, I’m a tall girl. And yes, I can rock the heck outta high heels because well, I can and why not ?

I guess I’ve always been comfy in them and as far back as I can remember they’ve been a part of my wardrobe.

Oh, I did try a brief stint of wearing flats. I did.

I just can’t think if I’m wearing a pair of them… like my brain isn’t fully engaged or something… 😉

But… slipping into high heels… well that boys and girls… is a game changer.

There is something rather empowering about them, a “I can take charge of the world feeling”, and well hey, topping in at 6’4 , I have no problem seeing over people, getting what I want off a shelf, or helping random petite people who ask me to drag things off an upper shelf for them 😉

Oh yes, I’ve gotten the “don’t you think you’re tall enough?” comment said with a laugh

Tall enough for who? and really, who determined somewhere in that random book of societal rules ( that I threw out a long time ago) that if you’re tall you can’t wear heels ?

Nonsense 😉

I don’t save them for special occasions either.. if I want to wear them.. I do.

It’s actually my perspective on pretty much anything fashion oriented. I don’t save stuff for special occasions.

Today… this day we’re given… IS a special occasion.

Of course, I had to share with you in this post some of my most favorite high heels. Here’s a sample of some …. 🙂

20160411_204549 — I love these Steve Madden shoes… is it any surprise they’re called… “Naughty” ?

20160411_203515 — Every girl needs some sparkly shoes

20160411_204211 — These are some of my favorites… why don’t I wear them all the time?

20160411_203940_001 — Last but not least…. crazy high black heels. I will confess to having many black ones in my shoe wardrobe 😉

ok tell me… do you love heels? or do you prefer flats or other shoes? Sorry guys, I know this might limit convo for you 😉

Those Voices In My Head

I was only a few miles into my ride yesterday morning when they started.

The voices.

Not the “I’m crazy and hear voices” kinda voices… although…. I am crazy… but in that good kinda crazy way…anyway… I digress….

I left knowing the weather was less than impressive. Foggy, wet, drizzling, soupy… overall kinda just yucky.

The kind of weather sane people stay inside and OUT of.

bike weather

My thought was… “oh, it’s gonna be clearing out soon” but that thought was leaving me as I watched water dripping off my helmet and I had to repeatedly pull of my glasses to clean them ( yes, even on dark and wet mornings glasses are essential on a bike)

rainy cycling

The voices started talking…. suggesting things like…

“So this weather isn’t so nice, you can just do a short ride and head home”

“Do you really feel like riding so far out ? All those hills you know? in this weather ?”

“Do you really have the time to ride so far this morning?”

“Knocking a few miles off won’t really matter… really… it won’t”

The annoying chatter continued.

I started considering some of the things rolling through my head. I guess it wouldn’t matter if I cut my ride short… would it ? And yeah, the weather wasn’t so impressive…

I began to mentally push those thoughts away, slowly and deliberately.

You see, I have had some experience with those “voices” as my athletic adventures have unfolded these past couple years.

Those voices offer excuses. They offer an easier way out. They try and convince you that you don’t have what it takes. They tell you that you aren’t strong enough, fast enough, young enough… whatever….They try and keep you happily in your comfort zone.

Our comfort zone is where we stagnate and die.

I first heavily encountered “the voices” during my first marathon in 2013. It was the end of November and a ridiculously hot 89 degree day. Running was brutal under the solid blue sky and unending sun. By mile 21 I was praying for deliverance. … but I am to stupid, crazy, stubborn to ever give in.

The voices started reminding me that the cool down buses were “right there” where I was running. I could go in and cool off for a little and then continue the race. It would be so easy.. just stop for a few minutes. After all, I had been working so hard. 21 miles was a long way, and even longer when the heat was so unbearable.

I passed one, and kept moving. The next one, the pull was stronger. The call louder. I did feel weak… weak against the temptation of what was offered and physically… I was getting depleted on almost every level and it seemed so easy to give in to it.

But I knew better. I knew physically if I just stopped what my muscles would do. I knew how hard it would be to start again and go back out into the heat and finish those last 5.2 miles. I knew how I’d be so displeased with myself when my time suffered ( I’m so competitive with myself)

I stomped the voices down. I refocused on my goals. I dug deeper in myself beyond what I thought I had in me to finish that race. And I did… it was the sweetest feeling ever crossing that finish line physically, emotionally, and mentally spent. It was one of the most victorious moments of my life.

Marathon 2013 -2 — Exhausted, yet feeling over the top victorious, after a brutally hot first marathon.

You know what I gained that day? Strength. Strength in knowing that I could overcome and prevail and I had more in me than I understood at that point. I learned that there would be times those voices would rise up to convince me I couldn’t do something or didn’t have it in me and that I had to fight right back against them.

Oh, there have been many other times since then. But now I know what they’re about…those voices are from the weakest part of me… to a great degree I’ve learned to tame them, stomp them down, and press on.

So back to the bike ride…. yeah… you know now what happened. I reminded myself that if I quit, how disappointed I’d be that I had given up. I thought of how I was not only getting physically stronger, but mentally too. That if I was to get to my goals of doing a bike race it would take hard training and training in not so ideal weather. I reminded myself that I would run in weather like I had that morning, cycling wasn’t so different ( ok yeah maybe I shouldn’t take those curves and stuff as fast 😉

The more I pedaled, water dripping off me in the foggy morning, the more determined I got and the quieter the voices became.

I finished up my full ride of about 20 miles… and it felt pretty darn good on more levels than one…. and by the time I was done… I had dried out 😉

A reminder, perhaps to you. When you feel like giving up and quitting, don’t. Your biggest competitor is within you…. that is who you work against every single time.

When the voices rise up against you ( and I know… some of you will totally get this) push back, work hard, and don’t give in to them.

There’s a new, stronger you, waiting to emerge.

The Struggle

challenges

The young woman talked easily with me sharing her struggles with weight loss and food describing her various up’s and down’s with weight loss over the years.

At one point she said…. “Oh, but I’m sure you don’t understand that” as she does an overall gesture that covers me from head to toe, indicating that based on how I look now I certainly couldn’t understand her struggles, or that I had walked in her shoes.

Maybe not to the entire degree she had, but the physique I have today, I wasn’t born with nor have I had it most of my life.

I’ve had to earn it, and it’s only come about in the past few years working at it. Which is pretty much exactly what I told her. She hadn’t known me very long when our paths crossed so it was perhaps easy for her to draw conclusions that I’ve always been some kind of fitness queen.

How did I explain the struggles I had been through in the past, yet, had overcome? Like, the need to go through a drive thru for a “snack” because I was “starving”? ( please note: you won’t really starve before you get home to get something better than a drive thru snack) I’ve since learned to keep a few decent snacks stashed away, for emergency purposes 😉 how I’ve trained myself to eat slowly and savor my food, and understand that it doesn’t take a lot to feed your hunger? That I made a dedicated, focused choice in the beginning to exercise? That some days I flat out didn’t want to do it, but now, couldn’t imagine NOT doing it? To treat food with respect and know that it will still be around tomorrow and I don’t have to eat it all tonight? Coming to an understanding that eating good, healthy, nutrient dense food wasn’t a punishment, but life giving, energy inducing, age defying goodness ?

I shared parts of my story with her and let her know that I did indeed, understand struggles. In fact, I’m pretty sure there isn’t a person around that doesn’t struggle at some point.

We struggle with eating to much, not eating enough, not enough of the good foods, or to much junk, getting our bodies out the door to exercise, whatever it is, there can be struggles.

I’m no different.

I thought about that today as I was grocery shopping. There are SOOOO many tempting treats… so many impulse items we can buy. I mentally slapped myself and kept going several times.

You know how I don’t eat certain things ? I simply don’t bring them home…which…well… kinda sucks sometimes when I’m trolling really wanting something and it’s not there haha it’s a cruel paradox.

Not that I don’t have treats… ’cause I do… I’ve just learned that to be successful means saying no to impulsive moments more frequently than giving in to them.

If I want something, really want something, I do get it. Some things I try to not bring home ’cause I know it’s my “trigger”.

For instance, I adore Salt and Pepper kettle potato chips…. adore them. One day I was shopping with hubby and drooling as I walked by them and he said.. “well, just grab them”

He doesn’t understand… they are like… crack to me…or I’m pretty sure they have crack in them… either way… no matter what… I know once that bag is opened … it’s all over.

My plan is to have just a few… but somehow… I nibble that bag away till they are gone the next day.

I know my weaknesses. I’ve learned tricks to deal with some of those weaknesses. Sometimes I’m successful, sometimes, not so much so.

As I shared with the young woman, I haven’t gotten where I am without my fair share of struggles.

What’s kept me successful is not giving up, giving in, or quitting. Not saying I had a “bad” day and I’m a failure and it’s not working so I should just quit.

I guess, at some point, stubbornness isn’t a bad thing. It can lead to success….

I want to remind you that struggles along the way to getting fit and healthy are normal. But I also think we are refined in the process.

struggle to success

We learn to make better choices, think things through more, decide what really matters to us.

I’ve learned to think so critically about many things I put in my mouth, but again, it’s been a learned process that has been born through struggles.

I know it’s almost cliché to use that “anything worth having is worth working for” but it’s true.

Every time you make a better choice, pass on something you know you really don’t need, say yes to healthier foods, get out and move , whatever it is, will make you stronger and help you take the next step to your goals.

the-struggle-is-part-of-the-story-Whitney-English

I want to encourage you, no matter where you are on your journey, the struggle my friend, is a part of the victory of success.

Don’t give up.

Running, Tattoos, And Muscles

Yesterday I made a trip back to see my sports doctor. I haven’t seen him since last summer when I was in for my running injury.

I bit the bullet ’cause the crazy thing has never gone away. After seeing him, then my visits to do Airrosti in December, it was still hanging around.

And being a runner my stubborn thought was…. “well, if it’s gonna be there and bother me whether I’m running or not, I might as well run. If it doesn’t get any worse…. go.”

Injured-runner1

Did I say I was stubborn ? Head strong? Willful ? Why do I hear my mother in my head ? haha

Realistically, I know it needs to be fixed so I can really get back out there and run like I want to run.

So… it was back to see him… to see what was going on.

The first thing he says, grabbing my arm, “that’s cool… you got a new tattoo!”

Seriously? A doctor that remembers what ink you have on your arm ? And that you got a new piece ?

I did get new ink a few weeks ago… and it looks like this… I totally love it.

20160127_163318-1

Did I mention he’s cool ? He’s also an athlete so he understands you not just from a medical perspective but an athletic one as well. He asks about goals and plans you have.

A quick assessment put me right into the (still) diagnosis of insertional Achilles tendonitis. Ugh.

Soooo I will be icing…lots of icing it several times a day … using a topical ointment…. and…. rest from running…. as in….none.

Whatever.

So that puts me more into being confined and focusing on strength training… as in lifting heavy things and working on building those muscles while my feet recover. I will also incorporate boxing into it ( great cardio) and I can still be out on my bike as long as it doesn’t cause any pain. That at least lets me get the miles under me that I crave. I really wanna get a rowing machine since that is the perfect all over body work ( in my opinion) and it’s something else to add to what I do.

Actually, since my miles have been so reduced these past months, I have added more muscle ( ha… not burning it off) 😛 I don’t mind having the muscle… I just need to adapt with my jeans =)

Adapt.

Sometimes I embrace that word, other times, I loathe it.

The definition says to make (something) suitable for a new use or purpose; modify. To change so it functions better. Interestingly, it’s a verb.

Adaptation and adapting are active processes.

My body ( yours too) and the activities we put them through can definitely be an adapting process.

Weight loss, weight gain, building muscle, getting older, exercise, strength training.. so many things make our bodies change… aren’t they amazing things?

But then there are these times I have to adapt to what is going on with my body.

Recovery is not a patient place for me. Therefore, I am learning to adapt even more.

No running means using other activities to get in my cardio. It also means spending more time in strength training… and this activity will change my body differently from running.

I’ve learned these past few years as an athlete that my body can change a lot depending on what I’m doing to it.

I loved how I looked at the peak of my marathon/50K training last year. Lean and chiseled running 55-65 miles a week, I was burning off way more than I was taking in… and truthfully…sitting in the very low end of my weight range.

The reality is, I can’t stay in that top “peak” of training all the time. Our bodies aren’t designed for it. I’ve learned my body will change a bit in off season.

I’ve learned to adapt to that reality.

Now I’m adapting to the constraints of injury.

Adapt. Change. Transform.

It’s a big part of life isn’t it ?

What about you? Have you learned this process, whether in life, or in the way you have to handle your body ? Do you fight against it or embrace the change it brings ? What has adapting taught you ?

Fit, Fluffy, And Frail

The alarm brought me to life and I did what I do every morning. I began to slowly stretch out my muscles from the nights sleep… it’s a nice way to wake up… stretching things out while I’m still laying down 😛

I’m kinda used to waking up with some kind of tight muscle somewhere on my body.

No, I don’t mean that comment I hear from people about having random and various aches and pains, the “it’s what happens when you get old” aches and pains complaint ( I have my thoughts on that too).

I wiggled my shoulders feeling the tightness in my chest and across my back.

Ahhhh, yes. Yesterday I had finally gotten back to do some boxing. I had taken weeks away from it while my new tattoo healed ( more on that later;) I launched into it with gusto and spent some time as well lifting heavy things.

Hello deadlift, weighted shoulder squats and chest presses.

legs on fire

My body was reminding me that’s what we did yesterday.

Some mornings… it’s the legs… or the glutes.. or…. yeah… you get it….

run-harder-meme-crossfit-

Fun you’re thinking.

No, seriously, I don’t mind.

You see when you exercise your body adapts to the demands put on it. In the beginning you do feel that tightness or ache or whatever (that, unfortunately, is when many people give up and quit) but as you keep at it your body wonderfully adapts to those demands.

After awhile you might not really “feel” that activity anymore. It seemingly becomes easier but the reality is, you, are getting stronger =)

Therefore, I like pushing myself a bit more to where I “feel” it. I don’t want to become complacent in doing the same old thing over and over.

You-re-Sore-From-Working-Out-

I want to challenge myself, to do a little more, to continue to build my strength and endurance.

I shared with hubby recently that I had been thinking of some things ( he gets a troubled look on his face when I say that haha;)

But I was thinking how there are things in life we cannot control. Things we have no control over…. no matter how we try….

And then…. there are some things we have a level of control over…. for instance….

I can control whether or not I’m fluffy or frail…. neither of which I have any desire to be… and I do have control over that.

I want to move ahead in my life being strong, fit, and healthy.

I can control what I eat, how I eat, and maintain a lean, strong fighting weight.

I can engage in activities that make me stronger for daily living and the tasks I take on. That time spent working out is the “pre-game” for real life that goes down way beyond my scheduled workout time.

I was chatting with a doctor the other day and we were discussing the benefits of being active and staying fit. As we age we don’t have to become weak, many do because they don’t actively use their bodies. I love reading stories about people who are definitely in their “senior” years…. 70,80’s….. and they are strong and fit.

Why? They have stayed active. They run, power walk, cycle, do yoga, weight lift etc. they do things that they enjoy and have stuck with it. They know the benefits of eating well combined with purposeful exercise.

The results? they are strong… not frail or weak. They are at a healthy body weight.

Lifting heavy things keeps our muscles strong… that old saying … use it or lose it.. is pretty true.

Cardio work keeps our insides strong and healthy.

We become weak when we don’t work our bodies. But… that is something we have control over.

I don’t care how young you are… or how old… you have the power to make changes in yourself that are positive and that can impact your life in great ways.

We are always capable of making changes in ourselves.

How do you do that ?

Make a commitment to yourself that you really are worth it. This isn’t the time to be a martyr and say other things need you more, you don’t have the time to do it, you can’t take the time away etc.

Start small.

Add or increase your activities slowly to avoid injury.

Know some discomfort comes with the process!

Be realistic with your goals. Expect progress, not perfection.

Finally, don’t quit or give up! Even with a bad day, pressing on will get you steadily to your goals.

A Time And A Season For All Things

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I saw her coming down the aisle. Shopping cart half loaded and small children hanging off of it. A baby carrier was nestled in the top portion.

A young mom juggling several small lives and gathering food for her clan.

We passed giving each other the polite smile. I contemplated her life and thought how very far away that all felt from me at this point.

I’m thankful to still feel young and energetic but my “little children” days are a few years back now.

My oldest just turned 27. My last pregnancy was in 1994.

I’m a grandmother.

I will be (again) as my son and his wife just announced they are expecting in October =) Being a grandparent really is way better than you can imagine… really… it’s so different from raising your own kids. And it’s kind of crazy seeing your children as adults, still your kids, but all grown up and you’re in this different place with them.

I’ve often been reminded of this truth from the writer of Ecclesiastes… “there is a time for everything and a season for every activity under the heavens”

When I was in my baby making days, ( I don’t participate in this activity anymore haha) it seemed like that part of life would go on forever. Well meaning people told me to savor and enjoy it as it would go by fast. Yet somehow, when you’re in the mix of diapers, lacking sleep, trying to keep your home orderly and make sure the baby doesn’t eat the cat liter it seems very far away indeed.

I gave birth to three beautiful sons, spaced nicely apart. I had good pregnancies and easy deliveries. I remember the nurse telling me I had a body perfect for having babies…I laughed and told her I wasn’t making a hobby out of it! 😉 I breastfed all of them successfully and loved the activity of being able to feed my sons. They were fat ( uh chubby) and healthy.

My husband and I had agreed three was our number… no matter what number 3 was… we were stopping. When my third son entered the world I was happy and joyful and had zero remorse that a girl hadn’t been born to me. He was tiny, perfect, and a total delight.

I won’t lie and tell you I didn’t go through my own season of grief realizing I would never experience those things again. Never feel life stir in me, that first movement, hearing the heartbeat, seeing that sono image, watching my belly grow larger as my child grew in me.

The anticipation of their arrival. The joy of seeing what I had when they were born ( We did not find out what any of ours were beforehand… super cool)

Not experience the joy of nursing them and the sweet moments that those times offered. The sleepy times where they lay on my chest, the softness of their breath lulling me to sleep as I breathed in their sweet baby scent. The feel of that soft downy hair under my hand.

Those moments do go by all to quickly I was reminded as my 6’6 first born walked in and enveloped me in a huge hug before dinner last night.

A time and a season for every activity under heaven indeed.

I guess I’m at a point in my life I’m privileged? blessed? to look back and see those seasons, appreciate them, and know they are a normal part of the rhythm and flow of life.

Now, I see young moms and think “God bless them” followed by… “I’m glad I’m through all that!” And “I like having my body all to myself” haha at this season in life I’ll be honest and say I’m enjoying my freedom.

My seasons involve my children getting married, preparing for college, making future plans, getting blessed with grandbabies and watching my youngest approach her senior year of school.

Ahhhh my last one in school!

There have been seasons of change in my personal life, and my own childhood family.

There have been seasons of loss, and seasons of the celebration of life.

And for me, exciting seasons of contemplating adventures and new things I want to do.

I love the point I am in life right now.

Yes, I’ve moved through seasons that are done. Yes, some of them I’ve grieved. Some of them I’ve celebrated passing through! Some have been downright painful and full of struggle.

But what is rather amazing and awesome is the fact, we (all) will continue to move through new seasons in our lives.

I’m thankful to be where I am, to be strong and energetic and eager for the new seasons unfolding in front of me.

There are so many things to pursue!

I’ve tried to learn, to view, to accept, that seasons in our life are what makes life. I often refer to them as new adventures.

Sometimes they are hard. Sometimes painful, joyful, or confusing. They are what makes life.

What do you think ? Is life made up in this way, seasons that we pass through ? Where are you now ? Have you learned to accept and embrace where you are ?

Running, Passion, And Vision

Running. I just feel like talking about running.

Maybe because I was out for about 4 miles yesterday morning and I was reminded how much I love it. And how much I miss it. And how irritated I am with this stupid injury that seems to hold me back from the potential I know that’s in me.

I’m not talking about my injury in this post.

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I want to just talk about the joy and freedom I have in the act of something so simple that we’re all born to do.

How do we lose the ability? the desire? the joy? of breaking into an open run, feeling our bodies surge under us as our legs kick in and the scenery goes flying by ?

When do we become to old, to tired, to lazy, to disinterested to run like kids ?

But then sometimes, later on, we stumble back upon it again. We gingerly test out the legs and find out they are still capable of performing that task.

For myself and many others, once again, we find ourselves embracing the joy of running in sometimes an often child like way.

Just for the sheer joy and beauty of being able to do it.

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To feel the wind and sun in your face or the bite of a cold morning . To embrace being out in the dark for a long run or doing speed work that makes you feel just a little bit …crazy for doing it. The feel of your heart beating strongly and your lungs deeply taking in air, sweat forming on your body, the sound of your feet against the road.

To nail a 20 mile run… and actually enjoy the tired ache of your body…. and the victorious feeling in your mind of accomplishing it.

Maybe the thing I’ve loved about running is how you’re always competing against yourself and how you can always step up your game… just a little bit more……

Running has been good to me.

In the beginning, it was definitely helpful for weight loss. In time, it began to carve and chisel muscles in my body I had only formerly thought existed.

It became my time to think, roll creative ideas through my head, process life, let anger and frustration out, and sometimes, it allowed me to cry and grieve at some of the agony in my life.

Running became my passion. I didn’t see it as a chore or something to be endured, but a gift and a privilege to be able to do it.

I laugh and love it when my friends tell me I’m crazy or nuts, or make all those silly runner jokes.

You know why ? I LOVE doing stuff the majority of people around me aren’t doing.

As time went on and my distances grew from short 10K runs, to setting my eyes on a half marathon, then full marathons, it never entered my mind that, I , little old me, would be a distance runner.

Seriously????

Yet, one thing led to another. A bigger challenge. A new goal. A new opportunity to challenge myself to something beyond my comfort zone.

Needless to say when I set my sights on a 50K last year, that was an adventure that had many asking me if I had lost my mind.

And trust me, if I allowed myself to slow down to much and reallllllyyyy think about it… I too began to see the insanity of running that many miles. And not just that race, but all the training that led up to it, all those training miles under me to get to that point.

Things like that are best not looked that close in the eye.

That’s the deal when you’re a distance runner. You don’t think. You just do it. You get out there, let your body settle into a rhythm and you just…. go.

And besides all those things… besides getting strong and healthy and fit and being called crazy… running makes me feel ridiculously…. alive…. powerful…..strong…. confident… and makes me feel like I can take the world on.

I don’t think that’s a bad thing, do you ?

So my struggles right now… it’s hard… so hard being kept in check physically with a injury that just won’t….be gone..

And wrestling with my mind that knows what my body is capable of, has done, and wants to get back to doing again…. is well… sometimes torturous.

I miss it in the worst way.

But get this… I don’t give up easily. And my mind is plotting and planning and anticipating all it wants the body to get back out doing.

Goals. New adventures. New chances for my friends to tell me I’m crazy and insane. New opportunities to prove to myself I can do something bigger and a little more fierce.

In between times, I’m tearing up the road on my bike with long miles and lifting heavy things to keep strong… and keeping my eye on growing my running distances.

Passion. It’s a good thing to have in life, right ? We all need to be passionate about something… it makes our heart beat fast and invigorates us … hopefully it challenges us as well making us feel alive.

Tell me… what’s your passion? What makes your heart beat fast and makes you feel invincible ?

new goal

Favorite Things Of Christmas

Christmas week. Christmas only days ahead….

Yikes!

I’ve been baking, shopping and wrapping like a wild woman.

My stockings have been hung by the chimney with care in hopes that I’ve been a good girl and Santa will leave me some goodies 😉

Decorating and getting out favorite Christmas decorations is definitely something I enjoy each year. As much as I love adding a new thing here and there with the passing Christmas seasons, it’s the old stuff that’s been around for awhile that really brings me the most joy.
You know how you probably have something that is “Christmas” to you? Maybe it’s a special food or cookie. Maybe it’s a particular decoration or something that’s been hanging around for awhile that when you get it out it evokes memories of years gone by.

That’s cool stuff….things that evoke memories of past Christmas seasons.

This first picture is a little village my grandmother put out every year for as long as I can remember. She would put the Barclay skaters out with the village. ( you can see them in the second picture… the people in this one are definitely more current) That was back in the day when lead figures were made of, well, lead 😉 I would get lost as a child sometimes just sitting and looking at it… that tiny little winter wonderland.

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As time went on and my grandmother passed away, my mom got the village. And after several years she moved on to a newer more modern ceramic one ( I never understood). One Christmas I was up in the loft in my moms barn like some large rat rummaging around for some things for her when back in the corner, forgotten, was the tiny village and winter skaters.

I immediately fell into begging mode… “Please, please, please let me have the village!” ( I can beg quite well when I have to 😉
She agreed and then I pressed again… “and the skater people? and the Santa and sled?” she told me to take them all…

I felt like a kid on Christmas morning. After all these years, the village and skater people with the Santa were mine!

I brought them home and carefully opened up the box taking out each tiny house. They were dusty and dirty and in need of some repair… to which I carefully set out to do… that Christmas they were out again with the lights carefully shining through the back of them (they have little holes for lights in the back)

That day began my quest ( and addiction) to learn about these cheap little dimestore houses and winter village scenes. Much to my surprise I learned the set I had grown up with were actually houses at the end of the era of the “cardboard” villages (mid 60’s).

The Barclay lead figurines were from the early ’40’s. I also learned my Santa is very rare and quite pursued as he was the only style made like this in 1942.

Often referred to as “putz houses” in older times the village was arranged around and under the tree creating often spectacular and unique displays.

As my digging and research broadened I learned these houses had shown up on the scene sometime in the late 1920’s. The most spectacular, beautiful ones were made during that time through about the mid 40’s. Many of these were huge with exquisite details ( and were on ebay selling for crazy amounts of money which quickly left me out of the pursuit of many) and yes, I got the bug.

Once I started seeing some of the unique, and beautifully detailed pieces it was hard to not jump in and gather my own “collection”.

This is the picture below.

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The “youngest” piece is the big white church in the center…it’s about my age haha… It was in horrible shape when I bought it. Someone had put hot pink and bright blue tissue paper in for windows… it had no fence…it was dirty… and I restored it to what it looks like now. The peach church to the left I bought for 9.00 … the windows had been chewed out by mice..it had no steeple… or windows.. the cotton was not on the roof… it was dirty.. but it was so unique I wanted it.( and my family shamelessly laughed at me for buying it) It had an actual little light in the bottom you could turn on. I bought it and carefully restored it… it is the piece I’m most proud of giving new life to. Even serious collectors I sent pics to were amazed at how it was restored.

I think my favorite pieces to find are the “cotton topped” houses, but especially the churches. These seem to have had a time span of only the early 40’s.

All of the houses in the second picture range in age from youngest of 55 to about 85 years old. The small house in forefront with lots of really tiny windows I believe is circa late 1920’s making it the oldest. Houses with the figurines of Santa and the Priest were made during the early 30’s and are most coveted by collectors today.

Given that these were cheap cardboard little pieces that sold for 5-10 cents during their brief time in history I find it totally amazing they are still around all these years later. I wonder about where they’ve been and what history they’ve been a part of. Todays villages are pretty but totally pale in comparison to me when I see the old antique beauty of these pieces.

In the second picture you can see the winter skaters and Santa and reindeer that were a part of my childhood village.

This is a part of Christmas that delights me in that childlike way.

Tell me… what special thing is it for you that says Christmas ?