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moments of truth

Every spring when I put on some article of clothing not worn since the previous summer, I have a feeling of fear that it will no longer fit. A moment where, until the skirt (running shorts, shirt, sports bra, socks - well OK - I don't panic about socks) zips up over my potential apron without any problem, I hold my breath. This is related to the moment of truth when I try on something that I ordered online only to realize that I am not 28 years old, 5'7'' and 115 pounds and it doesn't look nearly as nice as it did on the girl wearing it in the picture. Why is this, when I work so hard running my butt off at 5:45 am, do a few marathons a year, lift weights, and watch what I eat, that my self esteem is such that I fear I have ballooned into a size 12 over the winter? I think it is because the main reason I run isn't to lose weight or even maintain it. I really run to save my sanity from the things that try to sabotage it....like life in general and work and the w...

a prayer for nomad

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Some of the unique residents that have lived in my little home town are not even human, and are long remembered after they are gone. One such resident, appropriately known as Nomad, took on the job as being the town dog. Nomad was a big husky – big mostly because she ate meals at home and at many of the neighbors’ homes. My daughter called her a couch dog – not because she spent time on a couch but because she was couch sized. She was a big, round love seat sort of a dog. Nomad made it her business to check on everyone in the neighborhood but she had his favorites – my brother was one of them. Nomad worshiped my brother Ray and visited him several times each day hoping to get a puppy cookie in exchange for a dog kiss. She saw the good in Ray and didn’t try to make him quit drinking or smoking. She was a good listener and was satisfied to go for a walk in the woods where she would roll around in every mud puddle she could find. Nomad thought she was the guard dog and sat on the porch of...

the last picture of my mom

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This is the last picture of my mom, taken by my sister just 6 days before she died, and after she had a perm. She doesn't look like someone who was going to die in less than a week. But I guess that is a good thing. Barbara send me this picture with the following words from Thomas Hardy's Moments of Vision I am the family face, Flesh perishes, I live on, Protecting trait and trace Through time to times and on And leaping from place to place Over oblivion Saturday my friend Tom and I ran in the Salt Lake 1/2 marathon. We devoted the run to my mom, our friend Bob, and his dad...all of them gone this past year, leaving an emptiness that not even a good run could ever replace. But we remembered them and ran, thinking of them sitting "up there" watching us and being proud. We thought of them and talked of them until the last two miles. We silently ran our own race then, alone with our memories and our losses. I came in third in my age group. Ma would have been proud eve...

use it or lose it

"When are you going to quit running marathons?" I am frequently asked. My own mother used to say "You are getting too old to run like that!" My answer is "Only when I can't". My friend Suzanne and I talked about this on Friday morning when I went in to work late and we ran 13 miles - about 1/2 of it uphill. She shares my fear that, if you quit, or even take a while off, you might never be able to do it again. The longer runs take more out of you, the older you get and the recovery is longer. It would be easy to give it up and take up something less taxing on the knees - like bicycling or maybe aerobics (yuck). I think sometimes old people get old because they think they should. "I am getting too old for that", they tell themselves. And then, all of a sudden, they are. I don't want to be like that. I want to have goals that I work towards. Maybe the goal will be doing a 1/2 marathon, or a 10k, instead of a marathon , but it probably will b...

it's not about the end

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I wrote about my friend Sid in my first blog entry a few years back. I am lucky to still get to run with him on Sunday mornings. Sid is a veteran runner and marathoner. He is now 84 years old and has a lot of wisdom in his years. Although his pace has slowed, he still has goals and works towards them. He cares for his wife who has health problems and is active in volunteering, and keeps busy. He competes each year in the senior olympics. He has adjusted his running goals based on his age and pace but he has no plans to give it up. I have learned a lot about living in the moment from him. I have also learned to appreciate elderly folks and what they can teach me. On Saturday, I ran a 5K with Sid. Sure I could have placed in my age group but I chose to go at his pace. There will, I hope, be other races for me where I can run faster if I want to. I won’t always get to run with Sid though and listen to his stories. It was a wet, snowy day, but Sid was so excited when I picked him...

what if.....?

I have learned a lot about grief that I thought I already knew. It's stuff I tell people who are grieving - stuff like "There is no right way...everyone does it differently" and "Yes, it is normal to think you are going crazy". I read all this stuff in books and now for the second time in two years, I am facing it myself. I am an orphan. My grief over my mom didn't result in what most people might consider "normal grief"....a lot of crying, for example. Of course I cried but mostly I felt numb and like I was packed in cotton and sort of segregated from the rest of the world. I am sure my sister and brother experienced it differently too. I was okay with staying at my mom's house and getting rid of all her clothes right away. I was okay with speaking at the funeral. I went through the "what ifs" and "I should haves". What if we would have gotten her to a place that could provide more advanced care? I should have said more to ...

expired half and half

The first day I woke up at my mom's empty house without her, the cat was sitting there staring at me so I got up. When I looked at the half and half in the fridge I noted that it had expired the same day she did - March 10th. I poured it in my coffee anyway and did not see any clumps so I drank it and so far am okay. This small town is covered with snow - more than I have seen in a while, but not as much as there was a few weeks ago, according to the town folk. Today though, it is sunny and has warmed up to 40 degrees and some of it promises to melt. I went for a run this am and there is still snow and ice on many of the streets. But the air smells so good it is almost painful. Siggie made me scrambled eggs for breakfast and pepper bacon. It hasn't been bad staying alone at my mom's house with the cat, named simply "kitty". Poor kitty - she was my dad's cat and missed him when he died, but got to know my mom the last few years. She sleeps in mom's chair al...