Put One Foot In Front Of the Other

As I have mentioned before in previous posts, I am a runner. In fact, next week I am running a 1/2 marathon with my husband on our 17th anniversary.

I am not a fast runner nor the most graceful runner. I don't live to run. I don't get that runner's "high" that people talk about. I don't read books about running. I don't do the special runner's diets before running events. I simply run to be healthy and to spend time with my husband.

This morning my husband and I did our last long run before the 1/2 marathon. We got up before dawn, charged up our i-pods, dressed in our warm running gear, laced our shoes, filled our water bottles, and were out the door while a gorgeous full moon still hung in the sky. We were off to spend some time in a mutual quest for the victorious completion of the race next week.

Sounds kind of romantic, doesn't it?

We ran 9 miles. We ran 9 long, hard, cold, painful miles. (Did I mention I don't get the runner's "high?)

Now if you ask my husband, I'm sure he would used different adjectives to describe the 9 miles. He would probably use words like easy, exhilarating, refreshing - nice words. To him running is easy. He has been pretty much a lifetime runner. He can run, and run, and run, and run- stamina never gives out. He can run until his body gives up. For him, running is all of those words that he would use to describe it. He does get that runner's "high". Whether it is cold or hot, terrain hilly or flat, he is hitting the pavement and loving every minute of it.

I, on the other hand, am relatively new to running. Besides getting to spend time with my husband, the part I love about running is being finished. To me, every step is work. This morning every step was work AND uncomfortable. My body ached, my hands were cold, the glare of the sun hurt my eyes. I felt like I trudged my way through the entire run.

But, as the old saying goes, no pain, no gain. I know that it takes hard work to get results. I know that if I follow through, I will not only feel great in body, but also in mind and spirit. Knowing the reward that awaits gives me the will to keep going. It gives me the will to just put one foot in front of the other until I have finished the race.

Thanksgiving Blessings

After the Turkey, stuffing and pie,

I sit and reflect upon the year that's gone by.

I count all my gains, gifts and blessings,

and chose to forget my misfortunes and messings.

I think of my family, husband, children and me,

and know that we've been given more gifts than we need.

A beautiful home, cars, and things all around,

we all are so grateful for these blessings abound.

But, these blessings of things don't satisfy my heart,

and through these lines, I wish to impart,

The things that are truly a blessing to my soul,

are these intangible things that make me feel whole.

Like my children laughing and loving each other,

and having them know they can count on their mother.

For a husband who loves me in spite of my faults,

and learned, just for me, a wedding day waltz.

For a God who greater, could there never be one,

who loves me so much that He sent me his Son

And a country where I am allowed to be me,

the home of the brave and the land of the free.

These things I don't own and could never have bought,

but through their gain, great blessing I got.

After the turkey, stuffing and pie,

Will you sit and reflect on the year that's gone by?

I....Love.... My.... Husband.

I know all you marrieds out there probably say this all the time.

"I love my husband!"

This is not a new concept. It is not strange. It is not unusual to profess this - maybe even shout it from rooftops or mountain tops.

"I LOVE MY HUSBAND!"

It is even common to express it as a measure of gratitude or excitement.

"I love my husband!"

But I want to express it from the bottom of the deepest depths of my soul.

"I......love......my......husband."

No exclamations, not as a gesture to thank him for taking out the trash or mowing the lawn, not even as that routine statement that those words can become after years and years of marriage - simply as an expression from the innermost part of me.

Isn't that the place that love should come from? Shouldn't it be from that place so deep inside that the line between self and the other person is blurred?

Now, I'll be the first to admit, I like how love makes me feel. But,I believe that love is not only about how I feel. It is not primarily about me or my needs being met. It is not the material things that my husband can give me. It is not about the security that comes from always having another to bear the load of life. Nor is it about reaching goals and milestones together.

What I believe it is about is loving another selflessly. It is about supporting the other person to truly know who they are as an individual. It is about giving the other person encouragement and room to grow and become whole. It is about helping to bring their dreams and aspirations to a place of reality. It is about compassion, forgiveness, compromise and understanding. It is about loving them so fully that you don't remember where the line is that separates you from them.

I believe that love is about everything that my husband has shown me.

What is love to you?

Some Things are Worth The Wait!

Did you cast your ballot by mail? Did you vote early?

Every time an election comes around, my husband and I have a discussion about how we cast our votes.

My husband is staunchly efficient. He streamlines, straight lines, and fast tracks whatever he can - as long as is doesn't affect the outcome. He doesn't like waste whether it be money, product or time. So as you might imagine, he casts his ballot early by mail to avoid spending the time to stand in line at wait for a spot at a voting booth. To him, voting in that manner is the most effective and economical use of his time.

He doesn't understand why I wouldn't want to do the same.

There is something special about election day to me. When my children were young, I would bring them to the polls with me. I wanted them to see what voting was. It was important to me that they understood that although they are only one voice, their one voice combined with a lot of other one voices could have a profound effect on whatever it was they wanted to change. I considered it my responsibility and duty to be an example to them and cast my vote.

It was also important to me that they understand that the right to vote was something not to be taken for granted. My desire was for them to know that when they are older and able to vote, if they don't exercise that right, they have no grounds to complain about the results.

Those things aside, there is a selfish reason that I go to the polls on election day. I enjoy standing in line, being right there in the middle of the democratic process, even if it means and hour or two are taken out of my day. Although I know in essence my vote is anonymous and has no greater weight than a mailed in or early cast ballot, being at the polls makes me feel like I am part of something - a part of something big, that has a voice in the direction that this country is going.

My husband and I vote in different ways. Neither way is better than the other. Both set the example to my children that voting is important. However, what I hope to impart to my kids is that even if the line is long, some things are worth the wait!

The Long, Long, Long Run

This is how Saturday mornings begin for my husband and me....

5am: Alarm rings playing some of my favorite music
5:02am: Alarm still playing some of my favorite music
5:07am: Alarm still playing some of my favorite music, however a different song than was originally playing
5:10am: I stumble out of bed, throw my hair in a pony tail, put on my running clothes and shoes, just in time to turn of my husband's 5:15 alarm.
5:25am: We both end up in the kitchen, miraculously avoiding stumbling down the 17 stairs that separate our room from the first floor.
5:40am: We fill our water bottles, grab our hats, sunglasses, and i-pods, and then make our way to the car to drive to our favorite running spot along the canal.
6am: We arrive at the canal after a 20 minute ride in sleep deprived induced silence, fire up the i-pods, check the shoes, and hit the dirt for the long, long, long run.

My husband and I run a 9 mile trail along the canal every Saturday morning.

You may be wondering why we do this, especially on a morning that we could be sleeping in. We do it because we are training to run a half-marathon on our 17th anniversary in January.

Now I don't run with nearly the efficiency, speed, or ease as my husband does. In order for him to run with me, he has to make adjustments. Because his stride is longer than mine, he has to adjust his steps so he is not running ahead of me. I don't have the same speed that he does, so he has to slow down his pace for me. When I am feeling like I have hit the "wall", he not only has to keep himself going, but also take on the role of being my cheerleader and encouraging me to continue. Conversely, I have to make adjustments for him too. My pace increases when we run together as I work to keep up with him. My steps become longer, more efficient and more fluid as subconsciously my body mimics his body movement. I become more self assured and confident in my ability to press on as he reminds me that I do have it in me to keep going.

I have to admit that it isn't always easy running together. There are times when I feel badly because I am holding him back and slowing his pace. I am worried that he may grow frustrated with me for being a burden- that he may not want to finish the race by my side. Sometimes, I feel that I am at my limit, and that gentle nudge of encouragement feels like it will push me over the edge.

But then, inevitably, he senses my feelings and frustrations. With just the right words - those he has learned through navigating 17 years of marriage to me, he helps me push just a little further towards my maximum potential. He assures me that he is in it for the long haul, every step of the way. He is there by my side, to cross the finish line with me at the end of the race.

In many ways, training for this race is a lot like our marriage. We each have different abilities, personalities, likes and dislikes. We have some viewpoints that are in line with each other and others that are in conflict. Through compromise and understanding, we travel the path of our marriage much in the way that we are training to run the half-marathon. We compliment each other in a way that allows us both to be the best we can be as individuals, as well as the best that we can be as one body in marriage.

We are as different as individuals as we are in our running abilities. But in the end, we have common goals and principles. Staying focused on our common goals keeps us strong on our journey, this long, long, long, run.

The Baby Pooped on My Party Clothes!

Oh...It seems like yesterday.

We had just spent the summer with my parents. I couldn't wait to be back home with my husband whom I missed terribly. My girls, likewise missed their daddy and were anxious to be home with him.

We boarded the plane looking fresh and crisp in our nice white summer clothes. The girls were wearing matching white shirts with sweet little green frogs that I had just happened to find in all three sizes. I was wearing crisp white linen shirt and white cotton shorts that showed off my summer tan. Two of my girls sat nicely reading the books we brought for the trip, and I sat next to them with the youngest seated on my lap. We were quite a site, and I must admit, I did feel a little bit proud of how put together we looked.

Two hours and forty-five minutes of the three hour flight had passed. My three girls could have been mistaken for the angels in the heavens. I was daydreaming of the re-uniting of our family in the airport, my husband admiring his beautiful family and looking adoringly at me......then it happened. That unmistakable sound, that unforgettable feeling - the diaper blowout! Not just a small leak, but the absolute, debris all over the highway, ridin' on the rims, blown tire of the diaper mishaps right in my lap - just as we began our final approach. I had no choice but to sit in my seat, baby, poop and all, and worry about cleaning it up later.

In an instant, the beautiful family portrait had been shattered by a faulty diaper unable to stand up to the challenge of a still nursing baby. -Moms, I think you get the gist of this.

Sometimes it seems like life flows so smoothly. We feel like we have everything under control. Jobs, family, relationships, friends, you name it, we got it. But then something happens that rattles us; maybe even shakes us to our core. There is a sudden shift and the things we held together so efficiently appear to fall apart. We are left standing in a pile of the pieces of our life, not knowing where to start to put it back together.

But in time, we find that first piece to pick up. We dust it off, smooth some of the shattered edges and begin to build again. Piece by piece, we re-construct our selves. Maybe our lives will never be exactly as they were. But what we learn through the process of rebuilding can make us stronger than we were before. We shore up the walls of our lives with the perspective, empathy, sympathy, knowledge, strength, wisdom, and compassion that we have gained through our trials. We, in a sense, become a new and beautiful creation.

Now in the scheme of life a dirty pair of shorts is certainly not a major life crisis. It certainly has not been the biggest crisis in my life. Every one of us struggles with trials every day. Some may be bigger than others, but never the less, they are all difficult.

I challenge you to reach out to someone you know that may be struggling. Send a note, post a response, make a phone call...your experiences may help that person through theirs.

P.S.
Back to the shorts....they never were exactly the same. But on the bright side, they ended up matching the green frog shirts!