pulling the plug and plugging in!

It's 7:30 am on New Years Eve...a Saturday...and I am embarrassed to say that I sit here, surrounded by technology. I'm on the middle cushion of my couch and I have a laptop sitting on, well, my lap, an IPOD and IPAD to my right, my cell phone to my left and a flat screen directly in front of me. You see, 5 years ago this would be far from the truth as I had no IPOD, no computer (all computer use was done at work), and no TV...I basically had a radio and I was darned proud of this seemingly defiant way of living.

So over the last few months, I've been realizing my life revolves too much around this technology. I have been bugging Bobby for a few weeks now that I need a good radio and the reason for this is to blast the music that inspires me so much to do things other than sit and stare at pieces of techno-world. Now I know my first line of defense would have been to not marry an Asian...but I couldn't help it!

So here I am, battling.

I made the decision today to break myself from Facebook (gasp) for an undisclosed amount of time...maybe forever? That's a stretch I know, but I can dream, right? I found myself too involved in what people said or posted or did not say or post...which is silly to me. To find your worth in another person's activity on a social website is absolutely absurd!!! So instead of being a big girl and deciding not to care, I pulled the plug.

The benefits to this are numerous. I feel I will be free both at home and at work to be more productive. I have always loved to be crafty but now-a-days I find myself staring at the TV or the computer, numbing my mind instead of putting my mind to work in creative ways. I will be forced to converse with those around me about what is new in their lives instead of finding out on Facebook. Secretly, I hope this happens to me, too, that folks would check in with me a little more often instead of letting social networking do all the work. There is a basic need for relationship and I may be going out on a limb here, but I believe we are destroying this one basic need through our desire for technology and social networking.

So I bet you're wondering then, why I'm still blogging? Well blogging, to me, is like a journal. Of course I save the crazy rants for my actual journal...but it gives me an outlet without overwhelming my mind with the craziness of networking and also allows people like my mother (who lives way too far away) to see pictures and what-not of our family. Which reminds me, I have to download pictures!

I do have to give props where they are due, however. God has really gotten a hold of my heart and opened my eyes to many things. I hope I can use this here blog to document those but for the most part, I am being challenged to quit all that is consuming my mind, talent, energy and emotions and to focus on the One that really matters. He's been so good to me and I have taken much for granted...this new idea is not necessarily a New Year's resolution type thing but a thought that has been nagging me for months that needs attention...now. I miss my God and the closeness that we used to have. So I have taken some time over the past few weeks during the holidays to remember what life used to be like...what I used to do and where I used to go to be/feel/live closer to God. This is one thing I remember learning way back when I first met Christ...I was told that when you feel far away from Him, remember the days when you were close, remember the time you first felt Him and try to go back there...either physically or in your mind. Remember...and go back. Back to before life got hectic and priorities changed. And then make the necessary changes.

My first changes? Dedicate time for God...schedule things AROUND this time...and listen to His word. For me, this means music and worship and secluded PB&J time. I hear and feel most when I am surrounded by the beauty of music specifically about God and in a place where I am not distracted by folks I know. I'm going back...and I'm really excited!!!!

Who'd A Thought?

It's the day after Christmas and I've finally found a wee bit of time after the hustle and bustle of the season to express what I've been thinking and feeling for the last two and a half months!

Thanksgiving Day was the day we let the world know that we are expecting...but Bobby and I have known since about a week before Halloween! The thing I wish I had done in those early weeks was document the oddities, excitedness and super-human bodily functions. The changes, the feelings, the nerves and maybe just the thought of it all were so beautiful and sometimes humerous...but because it was not shared, I fear it has been lost...well, some things will stick with me as I am still in shock that these 'oddities' can happen. So here I am, taking a moment to get this documentation rolling...with the title of "Who'd a thought?"

WHO'D A THOUGHT?
- That instincts would tell me what I know before a tiny prego test will?
- That I ran a marathon with a baby in my belly?
- That bloating could get that bad?
- That, even in the 14th week, it still feels unreal?
- That I would have some crazy* Korean traditions thrown at me this soon?
- That there are actually people out there that will not be happy for you?
- That there are people that would be genuinely upset that I'm not finding out the sex?
- That unwanted advice is ever-present and found in abundance?
- That I would be a 'lucky one' and feel very little to zero morning sickness?
- That I actually dislike it when others play the prego card for me ("oh be careful, you're pregnant!", "make sure you don't do that, you're prego!" etc etc.) hint: let me decide!
- That it would be so fun figuring out things like disposable or cloth diapers?
- That my first baby purchase would be old-fashioned wood alphabet blocks?
- That coffee isn't something I seek out any more?
- That I would be chomping at the bit to exercise and run like I used to?
- That I would be gassier than a Chevron tanker truck?
- That Bobby would laugh at said gassy-ness?
- That I now dream of family trips and outings and all the things we could do together?
- That Bobby and I discuss dreams and values for our family?
- That at this time next year we will have a 6 month old for Christmas?


*crazy, meaning nothing I'd ever heard of in my upbringing as a typical white girl.

So those are some of the thoughts swirling...trust me, there's many more!

Misters

I decided to write this whole thing on my blog...I would normally just journal super long emotion filled things like this but I knew that my hand would cramp and I would never get out what I was/am really feeling. So far, it is helping keep sadness at bay...even one day later.

No words can express the love I felt for this silly kitty.

Our days started together shortly before I turned 15. I had bothered my parents, who were 'strictly dog people', to invest in a creature almost unknown to them. Little did they know, she'd change the way we viewed this family pet called a cat forever.

Misty was our very first cat. Bought from the local pet store solely because she had the markings of a cow. She wasn't terribly outgoing or cuddly but she'd put up with me for minute before taking flight from my lap. I don't remember too much from the early days as I'm sure I took her presence for granted. But what I do remember are the days that I needed to set out on my own from my family and, unfortunately, for two - almost three - years that meant Misty couldn't live with me. I did have family that was willing to keep her around for me until I could get a place of my own that allowed cats. Until then, I visited weekly and was saddened a lot because I could tell she wasn't happy living in a house with two small children, two dogs and two other cats (remember, Misty changed how my family viewed cats...there have been many in my family since) but she was a loner.

Then I remember landing myself a job that would allow me to get out of the roommate world (which wasn't always cat friendly, sorry Bekah) and into a single bedroom apartment that would allow my buddy to be by my side. So after securing said place, and starting my new obsession with Browne's Addition, before unpacking one single box, I headed to my sisters to snag my most precious possession. Unfortunately, by that time she had decided it would be fun to grab up some fleas from my sis's other pets and a double ear infection that would cost me a couple hundred in vet fees right off the bat...yea, thanks for that.

Living together was bliss...it was routine to find her cuddled by my side every morning. Fortunately for me, she wasn't the kind of cat that meowed or pawed at my face to wake me up. She was nice enough to just wait til I was coherent and she'd rush to her food bowl like it was always the first thing that should be on my list in the mornings. She wasn't the hairball hacking type either. I really lucked out. She followed me from place to place, always sitting or curled up right next to me or on her special spot on my couch. She never really broke from 'normal' as she was predictable. Possibly the easiest animal ever...well, I might be biased. It was during this time, however, that I found out what happens to a kitty when she gets a plastic bag wrapped around her neck like a cape. Possibly one of the most funniest, fondest stories...and only slightly cruel...promise. In my mind, that's what she gets for being so snoopy all the time.

I remember, once I started dating Bobby, that if he didn't agree with her or couldn't tolerate her, well I wouldn't tolerate him. It was funny...he had to approve of my cat before I'd approve of him. So when the day came that I needed to leave for a week to YL camp, he jumped at the opportunity to stop by and feed her and cuddle with her while I was gone. OK, he was a keeper. He didn't mind sitting on my couch and leaving covered in hair. To love me was to love my cat. This is something I think a cat lady would say but in all honesty, I knew how to crochet and I had a cat...all I was missing was a rocking chair...I was a cat lady.

Then we (Misty and I) moved in with Ali and Ty for a few months before Bobby and I got married. This was an interesting test for Misty but days spent under the bed hiding from whatever and nights skiddishly sneaking around their unknown house. Eventually, and I feel especially, because of the love and attention both Ali and Ty gave the Misters, she (kinda) came out of her shell. Though she rarely left my bedroom, she'd at least be out from under the bed. My favorite times with her there were when Salem, tried as she might, wanted to love on her and Misty just wouldn't take it. Also were the run-ins with Tawsha their 3 legged kitty...I still smile when thinking about the day I came home to find one single Tri-pod claw stuck in Misty's ear.

Moving in with Bobby after our big day was pretty easy for her. She cuddled with him like she cuddled with me so many times...kinda made me jealous! But we were a happy family.

About 6 months later though, my slightly-overweight-kitty-is-an-understatement started losing weight at a rapid pace. She stopped eating and so I thought maybe her teeth were going bad (a thought that came shortly after Marissa's kitty lost all but two front teeth!). The vet found no reasons for her problem though. So next was a search for food she WOULD eat. Well, I found some but the downside was, she'd often upchuck it. But Bobby and I were persistent in dealing with the upchuck...we loved her and just kept trying things. Then she decided to add lovely smelling fluid bowels to the mix...I knew this was not good. So about another 6 months from the last vet visit and 3 days before my 30th birthday, I took her to the vet once again to see if there's any options. Unfortunately, as I explained in the post before this, there's not much you can do for a 15 year old cat. I knew in my heart of hearts what had to be done but how do you voluntarily say adios to your friend that's been by your side for so many years? She's peed on my cheer uniforms, on my sister's now ex-husbands clothes (serves him right) but how could I scoop her up and hand her over to strangers to end her long, comfy life unnaturally? I couldn't bear to watch the slow deterioration any longer. I just couldn't do it. I loved her, yes, but it hurt so much to know that she was wasting away and I was helpless.

So after my birthday, Thanksgiving and a few more precious days, I had made up my mind that it was best for her. The vet told me her quality of life would never get better and that euthanasia would be the best, humane option. Earlier this week, Bobby and I were at odds with this decision which made it even harder and also caused a little guilt (which I still feel...intensely). But yesterday, after seeing her frail body walking around and finding multiple stinky bowel movements in various places, I solidified my decision and told Bobby I was done watching my buddy waste away.

After Bobby got home from work we loved on Misty for a few minutes, of course I cried, and finally scooped her up to put her in the travel crate. She didn't want to go and ended up clawing my wrist in the meantime...can't blame her.

Upon arrival to the vet (cried the whole way there, petting Misty through the crate holes) Bobby had to speak for me...nothing was coming out except sniffles and tears. I'm thankful for him for being so strong for me. Misty seemed calm, sitting there waiting...which made me feel maybe a spec better. The vet and her assistant took the three of us into a room, explained the different options (cremation and what-not) and ways to go about the 'process'. I chose for them to give her a sedative that would make her sort of 'asleep' and relaxed...that way we could take our time in the office saying goodbyes before they took her away from us and to the back to be put to sleep. She was so skinny that they had a hard time finding muscle to inject the sedative...sad. But within minutes she was limp in my arms but still breathing, it was strange...we pet her, Bobby with his arm around me...I kissed her and told her I loved her...I hope she heard me and felt it. When I couldn't bear to look at her limp body any longer, we asked the vet to come and take her away. She carried her like a baby out and to the back of the office. Bobby and I left and immediately, I went into hyperventilation mode...couldn't even get into our car.

I wanted to go screaming back into the clinic...I wanted to say "no! stay with me forever!" but alas, life is like that. We can't just keep someone or something around for our whole life...it doesn't work that way. So from here on out, nothing but good memories flood my mind...which usually makes me cry all over again. For instance, I see the lack of a litter box in my bathroom and I cry while on the pot! Why? Because there were many days when she'd actually follow me in the bathroom and pee at the same time I would!

I went to bed last night wondering how a furry little bug like Misters could make such a huge hole in my heart...then I remembered why this morning when I woke...yearning for her to jump on my bed to say good morning. She was my buddy...for 15 years...and now all I have left are wonderful memories, pictures and a tiny scratch on my wrist that I secretly hope never fades.

"Tis better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all."
~Shakespeare

logic and the heart

Logic tells me that "it's just a cat"...but my heart says she's been my buddy since I was 15...

No matter how much Salem longed for it, Misty never wanted anything to do with her.  Sassy girl.

I took Misty to the vet last night to find out my options for her, either a medication to stop vomiting and diarrhea or putting her down. She's been vomiting on and off for a while now but recently she's decided diarrhea is a good thing to add to her issues. If she were human, I'm sure she'd be gone by now with the symptoms she has. The vet said she has all the signs that point to a tumor inside her intestines and a CT scan would tell for sure...but I can't see spending $275 to tell me something I can't do anything about. They offered many tests($$$) and options(medication $$) but all pointed to the inevitable...her quality of life probably will not improve.   In hindsight, I probably should have just had them put her down last night while I was already there and in tears...but selfishly, I wanted a few more nights of cuddling. Bobby said he woke up last night to find me fast asleep with the Misters laying on my belly. I think this sight is what prompted him to consider at least trying medication. I, on the other hand, know that it won't put an end to the actual issue. So the humane thing to do is euthanasia. Now if I could just muster up the guts...

Post Portland Blues

There's something about big events in a person's life that, once they've come to completion, creates a sort of void. Like the works of any masterful orchestra and it's conductor, the music plays...a few woodwinds and strings whimsically sway you...the brass teases...the percussion lightly hints at what may come...then the build up to the climax-where-every-instrument-is-being-utilized-and-your-whole-being-is-engulfed-in-the-enormity-of-it-all-until-you JUST.CAN'T. STAND IT....

and then it halts...like you just ran into a brick wall.

You might hear a few flutes, bells, and chimes but for the most part, you're left longing. Longing for the next climactic event and the energy, attention and thrills that come with it. The unknowns, the variables, the learning opportunities...endless physical, mental and emotional stimulation...

I think I have just described the inner workings of an adventure junkie.

Now, I'm not a junkie, this is for sure. But reviewing in my mind the Portland Marathon and all the training, learning and sometimes suffering I experienced made me realize that once it was over...it was over. That's it. No encore.

Huh. Bummer.

Nobody really cares about the after-effects of a marathon. The blisters, the exhaustion, the weakened immune system that has kept you under the weather for forever... But the many conversations I've had about training, learning and the new experiences are like the orchestra...the stimulation. The marathon was the climax, and the week after was the abrupt halt or proverbial brick wall...which now leaves me longing.

So..."Now what?", is the question I wrestle with. What's the next big thing? Do I go bigger? Do I go smaller (distance-wise) but more often? Do I try something different? Something not even to do with any form of exercise? Something like school or a mission trip or...or...

Time to find an answer to that question!

Portland Marathon

I decided to risk sounding like a credit card commercial. Here goes...

THE NUMBERS (approx)
Registration fee= $145
2 pair of running shoes= $200
fuel belt and GU gels= $175
one night at the Double Tree Hotel= $120
travel expenses and food= $150
miles logged for training= 700+

The joy felt at mile 13 of 26.2...breathtaking.
The overwhelming sense of accomplishment while crossing the finish line after 26.2...PRICELESS.

The journey started with a thought. A thought that I had never done something out of pure intentionality. I remember running races, finishing triathlons and completing projects not because I desired to do them, but because I jumped on someone's bandwagon. So on February 15th I financially and mentally committed to the completion of the Portland Marathon. I asked my friend Kathi to help me drum up a training plan and then I asked a couple gals if they'd like to join me in my endeavor. The training plan came through and worked wonders although I suffered a bit of burn-out in the end...running became a forced thing and not a thing I enjoyed. The two gals? Well, one was all talk so when it came to signing up, it was a no-go. The other signed up, paid the money, did a few months of training but when it came down to the day of the race, well, I have no clue what happened. Needless to say, I did this journey physically alone (careful to say 'physically' because I had many supporters and cheerleaders!). I can only think of a few times I had a running buddy but for the most part, it was a lonely journey...all the way down to the big event.

Bobby and I set out for Portland early Saturday morning. Of course, we had to stop at Franks Diner for a good protein filled breakfast and then Indaba for fuel for the road.

Once we checked in to our hotel, we made a crazy kind of beeline for the marathon's trade show and packet pick-up. For a routine I've never experienced in a city I've rarely navigated, I fared pretty well...with Bobby's help of course (if it wasn't for his gaming abilities, I'd get lost in the city!). After we picked up all the info needed, we walked the couple blocks to the location of my wave start and then to the location of the start/finish line. It was quite a delight to run into the passionate folks camped outside the Justice building for Occupy Portland. It was interesting to see the difference between Occupy Spokane vs. Portland. Lets just say you can tell Spokane is a much smaller and less liberal community.

I wondered how the protesters were going to affect the marathon since they were camped in the very same park we were supposed to finish at but I was put at ease when I saw these signs.


















After a cuppa joe in a cute little shop we settled on a movie (The Ides of March) and then headed back to the hotel for dinner (Salmon and a few yummy sweet potato tots) and much needed rest. I laid out all that I was going to need for my early morning and was delighted to see what Bubbs had put together for me...a homemade card with great words of encouragement, recovery goodies and tattoos! I had also brought the card I got from Nikki to remind me that I am tough...a bulldog on a poodle skirt, that's what 'tough' is! ;)















And then, sleep. But I didn't do much of that. I tossed and turned...pillows sucked, bed was way too soft, and the latino couple across the way decided our whole floor needed to hear their relational issues. I remember waking up at 12:30am and being excited that I had a few more hours to sleep. I also remember waking up at 1:45 in a panic because I feared I had slept through my alarm. Then again at about 3:30 for the same reason...but that time, I stayed awake...for an hour...because 4:30 is the time I needed to wake up in order to leave and be at the start by 6am (which is what event organizers suggested...but in retrospect, I didn't need to be there til closer to 6:45). I know it seems like a long time to get ready to run...but I have a routine and if I don't get started early, bad things happen...promise.

So Bobby shuttled me to my wave corral (which, to my dismay, I was notified I was placed in with the walkers...I didn't know I had planned to be that slow!). It was here that I got emotional...just before getting out of the car I realized I was on my own now, with thousands of strangers. Could I really do this? I wouldn't have anyone with me to push me or give me words of encouragement and once I joined others in my wave, I saw so many pairs or groups of people running this thing with their buddies or running partners or spouses. I guess I didn't get the memo that I was supposed to not do this alone or something. So there I stood, for an hour, alone in the middle of a crowd. This gave me a lot of time to think...which is when I realized I was missing nearly half of my fuel I had planned for the course. FAWESOME. I accidentally left it in the car...my emotions apparently clouding my memory. I heard there would be gummy bears and such along the course and concluded that they would have to fill the void.

My first pang of joy came when the national anthem was performed...at first causing a great silence within the crowd and then an eruption of hoots and hollers...glorious! Before long, we were moving to the start.

7:26am found my foot crossing the starting line reminding me much of Bloomsday. I had to walk a bit before I felt I had enough room to actually run. I waited to put my earbuds in so I could soak up the atmosphere and the first of many bands along the course. Once the earbuds were in and my music going, I was oblivious to any other noises. I found myself a rhythm and away I went. I thought I should hash out a plan. Should I run 2 miles, walk one? Should I run two songs' worth and walk one? How was I going to do this? (note: most people plan this out before they cross the starting line...those people are smart.) Within 30 minutes, my IT band decided to rear it's ugly head. I refused to let it get me down though so I ignored it. Laa La La... I tried looking for mile markers and realized I must be missing them due to the volume of people on the course. It wasn't until mile 5 that I saw my first sign...and I had been running for a whole hour straight (except water stations). This is worth mentioning because during my training I never could run a whole hour without becoming bored and walking. I took inventory and decided I felt great (still ignoring my IT band issue) so I kept at it. Next mile marker I found? Mile 10...almost exactly 2 hours in which puts me somewhere around a 12 min. mile pace. WOOT! By this time, even though it was raining, my insides were stoked because I felt amazing (and, I spotted my friend's roomie, Jaime) From here on out, I saw just about every mile marker since the crowd was thinning a bit. I couldn't have been more happy to see mile 13...the halfway point. I was elated to know I was feeling as good as I was at such a distance all the while STILL FREAKIN' RUNNING!!! Are you kidding me?! I've never run 13 miles straight! I decided I may have been inspired by the crowd and moving along with their pace...ok whatever works! (suck it, IT band!!)

Then, mile 16. it was at this point that the 2 mile hill I had been warned about began. I gave myself permission to walk it. Little did I know that a portion of the hill was the St. John bridge. Man, I wished I had a camera as I cannot begin to explain the grandness of this bridge in comparison to the tiny runners crossing it. It was phenominal. Oh. My. Goodness. At mile 18 I remember seeing in the distance the city I was supposed to finish in, questioning how the heck I was going to get back there in 8 miles? EIGHT MILES? I only have EIGHT miles?! Holy crappola! I saw somewhere along this part of the course my favorite spectator sign of them all, "Chuck Norris never ran a marathon!" Hells yea! By this time I had resorted to the 'run two songs, walk one' strategy which carried me through until mile 22 when my calves decided to make it known that they were fed up with this treatment. Then my thought was, "I'll run whenever I friggin' feel like it, GOSH!" Mile 24 found me spying my watch...I had approximately 35 minutes to finish under 6 hours...so I did what I know best...I shuffled. A shuffle is not a run or a walk...not even a jog really...feet barely come off the ground but they're quick steps...these quick steps got me to mile 25 where I took out my earbuds to once again, soak in the atmosphere. People were cheering me on by name (I forgot my bib had my name on it! haha!) and my shuffling increased. I got within 5 blocks of the finish and realized I would make 6 hour mark after all! I picked up more speed when I knew I was within 2 blocks and I felt so good it was as though I had just started running!  I saw Bobby cheering me on with a box of Voodoo Doughnuts (that was my only request from him at the end...I wanted a Voodoo doughnut). I rounded the corner, passed over a timing strip that I assumed would register my name for the announcer and sure enough as I passed over the finish line, I heard my name announced as a finisher of the 2011 Portland Marathon.




 I am no longer a marathon virgin and I am so very proud of myself. I don't like to toot my own horn but I am in love with the fact that I did this...and had an amazing experience to boot! 

Here's the ending numbers:
Start time: 7:26am
@10km, 8:41am, 12:03 pace
@8.6mi, 9:11am, 12:42 pace
@Half, 10:07am, 12:18 pace

@17.5mi, 11:12am, 14:51pace

@20mi, 11:51am, 15:50 pace 

@21.1mi, 12:11pm, 18:08 pace 

@26.2mi, 13:31 pace

Finish time: 1:20pm, and a total time of 5 hours, 54 minutes. 

Thank you to all who encouraged me along the way!

 

T Minus 3

T-minus 3 days before the marathon...so I thought I'd give anyone who's been following for whatever reason an update. Or, for my own benefit, so that I can remind myself of all the times I wanted to do something that would take a good bit of commitment only to result in utter distaste.

My first example should have been when I did the Seattle to Portland bike ride. I literally hated my bike for a good three months afterward and to this day, I find myself giving that thing the cold shoulder. I'm talking a good 3 years of frustration!

So here I am, less than a week away with my longest run being 4 miles and my shortest, 2. I don't want to do them. My mind gives a ho-hum "why bother" kind of thought and, combined with the recent turn of the weather, presto! I'm reaching for a good book instead. Frustrated about an aggravated IT band and gnarly blisters on my toes, I found myself studying the YMCA class schedule because I'm excited to do just about anything other than running. But for so long I wanted to consider myself to be a runner and now...well...I think I'm over it. I hope it's a temporary thing though... I do want to keep doing some good, long events but definitely nothing like a full marathon. The 5-8 mile distance seems to suit me great so maybe I'll consider myself a runner who is o.k. NOT going the distance. hehe.

So, note to self:

SELF, IF IT TAKES 6+ MONTHS TO PREP FOR, YOU'LL HATE IT BY THE TIME YOU CONQUER IT.

Wonder if this note will stick.

almost done, hun.

This Sunday will mark my longest run in my training for the Portland Marathon. 20 miles. Let me remind you that my runs do not necessarily mean I run the entire time...I'm simply running as much as I can and then doing my best to imitate a speed-walker otherwise...hip swing and all!

Initially, I wanted to complete the marathon course within 6 hours' time but now that I've done a few long run/walks, I'm thinking that unless I have a burst of intense energy and stamina, that goal is not going to work for me. I'm thinking, after some calculation and personal speculation, that while I may get close to my 6 hour goal, I think 6 1/2  hours might be more realistic. I can run a sub 11 mile on a continuous basis, but once I get tired of running, my speed walk brings me to a sub 14 mile pace...and once I'm tired of speed walking, I'm reduced to a normal walk of around 15 min. miles. If I walked the entire course at 15 min/mile pace, I'll finish before the 7 hour mark...which is good to think about. At least I can tell Bobby that I should be no later than 2pm before we can head home! (poor guy...I feel bad for him...waiting around for his slow wife to finish a race that will cause her to complain probably the whole way home...)

I'm glad I know this now...I'd feel really silly if I went into this race thinking I'd finish like a speed demon. But then again, who knows? Adrenaline from other runners and matching their paces may bring me to a faster finish...I've heard that it happens.

I had a chance to chat with Kathi, the lovely lady who has helped me along with my training plan and little tidbits of support via emails and atta girls at the office. I let her know I was coming up on my long run and she mentioned that she would have loved to run part of that with me if she were only in town. This thought felt weird to me, having someone run with me, because I think throughout this time of training I might have only been able to share maybe 6 miles with someone. Starting this spring, I've covered nearly 700 miles...alone. This may sound kinda sad, but there's been a great many miles of clarity and reflection, prayer time and some 'aha!' moments so I'm not bummed. It sure made things difficult when I wanted to go hang out with friends or sleep in because I didn't have an accountability buddy. Sometimes friends and/or sleep won out but I'm happy to say it didn't happen too often.

All this to say, I'm anxious, excited, scared...and I cannot wait to have that Portland Marathon shirt and medal....oh, and the tree sapling, of course!

postcards

It was the summer of 2000. I was on my way to YoungLife's week long camp called Malibu. Though I had heard many stories regarding what I would anticipate during the week, the resounding phrase was, "It will be the best week of your life." Lo and behold, 11 years and a marriage later, it's still been ''the best week of my life'' (sorry, Bobby).

Let me explain. This week away wasn't just an experience. It was life changing! I grew closer with a few gals from my school, I was loved on by Cheryl, Molly and Tria (our leaders), I experienced adrenaline pumping adventures like never before and most importantly, I found Jesus. I don't mean "I found Jesus" as though he was hiding in the bushes somewhere...but what I mean is, I was stripped away from all that was distracting and planted right in the middle of one of the most gorgeous places on this planet. Here, I not only saw the beauty that is God all around me, but I felt it from my leaders, friends, and even the camp work crew and staff who didn't even know me but worked tirelessly so that I would "have the best week of my life". "Who is this God that is such awesomeness?" I was amazed, encouraged, and ultimately completely enveloped in and by the love that was shown to me that I could no longer deny this God. I wanted that relationship that I was being told about. I wanted that 'something more' that would fulfill the longings and desires of my heart. I wanted to know God.

So I left camp on what's called a 'camp high'. I felt on top of the world even though I had been warned that the real world may come crashing back at me...and it did. But not before I had the opportunity to solidify relationships with my leaders and the friends who came along and who ultimately would serve as my mentors and who took great pride in discipleship.

On the bus ride home, I remember filling out a post card to an anonymous donor. Those who gave money to make "the best week of my life" possible. I don't remember what I wrote but I'm sure it said something to the effect of finding Jesus and 'thank you' for 'the best week of my life'.

I went on to lead high schoolers through the same experience, adrenaline pumping craziness and post card writing for the next 10 years. It was during this time that my faith grew the most. Contrary to popular belief, teens are awesome and no matter how punkish they can be, there's so much to them and so much that they go through that I feel they've blessed me more than I ever could them during our time together. I've watched some from middle school all the way through college and on to marriage and building a God centered family. I've watched some follow their calling and dive right into the missions field and I've watched some follow in our footsteps and become YL leaders themselves. What joy!

Then last year, I decided to take an unknown amount of time off from leading. The biggest reason is my marriage. I didn't know how I was going to work full time and lead YL and still have enough quality time left in my day for my new husband. Initially, I thought I'd only take one year off, but now, with September right around the corner, I don't feel God telling me that YL is where I need to put my energy right now. That said, I made sure I wasn't too far from my fellow Younglifers by opting to give part of my monthly tithe to them and to participate in as many functions and fundraisers as I can. This summer, like every summer, donors received a post card. I was sent a postcard. It was from a girl I know from Medical Lake who had ''the best week of her life'' at Malibu. Because of my giving to the very organization that changed my life years ago, I have been given the best gift...this post card. It's almost as though I was given the post card I had written so long ago.


I went from camper to leader to financial giver and I'm stoked to be able to say that I've been involved with YL in such ways that I've written, enabled others to write, and ultimately received  that meaningful post card.

What went around, came around.
Thank You, God.

dreaming dreams

"We do not want to merely “see” beauty–though, God knows, even that is bounty enough. We want something else which can hardly be put into words–to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it."

~C.S. Lewis

Bobby and I got the chance to spend this last weekend out at the Stitt's cabin for Tyler's birthday. One morning, while everyone else was still in deep slumber, I found myself wide awake and ready to get the day going. Unfortunately it was only 6:30am and I knew I had a good 2 hours before anyone else would be alive so I had to find something to occupy my brain. I chose to dream up some dreams. 

The Portland Marathon is a little less than 2 months away. Completing this race/run has been the one solid goal I've had since last winter and here I am, less than 60 days from the finish! This made me think about more goals and things I'd like to accomplish/see/experience in the upcoming months. I dreamed about Italy and how Bobby and I have always talked about going there someday. Because I have the opportunity to witness friends with their little ones, I know it would be best to get a trip like this out of the way before little ones of our own come along. Could this be done within the next 6-8 months? How awesome would that be?! Then my mind covered the idea of buying our first home. We've discussed a bit of a timeline and right now, we're hoping to find our home within the next year, possibly late spring-early summer of 2012. Ah...all those ideas from Etsy and Pinterest, Better Homes and Gardens and Martha Stewarts' Living magazines may finally be put to good use! Veggie garden...art room/office...a dog first and hopefully soon thereafter a little quarter asian of our own! ...oh to live the dream!

 Only about 20 minutes worth of dreaming passed when Bobby stirred...I promptly started attacking him with little pokes and "Hey, wakey wakey!" and, "I'm bored...WAKE UP!". He did...but we both just laid there. A few minutes of silence went by and still in my dreamy state I asked, "What are you thinking about?" hoping for an equally dreamy response.

"Stargate." he replies.

Sigh.... "You're such a nerd."

Later that evening I had an advisory board meeting at the Porch. Pastor Dave spoke of Haiti and his dreams for the people of the Porch to come together to support the small town of Godin either financially, prayerfully, physically or all three! If you've asked me lately what a prayer request of mine would be, it would have to do with Haiti. For the last few months, since Justin, pastor of Kaleo Church in Otis Orchards came to our church to speak about Haiti, I've been struck with the thought of being a hands-on person. I've always wanted to 'do a mission trip' but I've always been leery about big organizations and what seemed to me to be a temporary fix, or, band-aid for an area in need. The difference that I see with Dave and Justin and those involved in Godin is that the work being done is to aid in the building of a self-sufficient economy. There are many details to how this is being done and it seems to me that it's more of a "teach a man to fish" kind of thing rather than, "give a man a fish"...which I believe is the better way to go about things. Since 2002, Dave and Justin and a few of their buddies have built actual relationships with the people of Godin and I feel God has put it on my heart to be a part of that somehow. 

So as I laid down to bed that night, I revisited all the dreams I dreamed that day and it hit me that I could have a potentially life changing year coming up and I am super excited! For so long I've watched my friends go on trips, missions, excursions...build homes, businesses and families...and I'm excited and hopeful that our next year will prove fruitful in every way possible.

been away too long

I completed a 5 mile run last night. period. I say it like this because this is one of only a few runs thus far that did not result in some sort of funny/interesting story. Although I do have to say that I chose a beautiful time of the evening to head out (7pm) and an equally beautiful route through Riverfront Park on up to INDABA where the hubs was pulling a late nighter. I also got the chance to run into Rachel, however, and two very flamboyant men with the cutest little Corgy dog that "loves women" they say.

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So here's the deal:
I've found myself crazy-busy (but not too crazy to run my miles...or most of them anyway) and at the same time out of ideas and motivation to write on this here blog...it wasn't until Nikki told me she missed my blogs that I thought, "Hey-that means they're being read! Woot!" So here I am, with a little help from my friends.

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I have a confession...wait, it's more like a frustration...from someone (me) who is at her wits end. If you read what I have to say in the next few sentences and you for some reason decide NOT to agree with me then I'd say you are part of the problem and not part of my solution and you are NOT being helpful to me in any way, shape or form especially if you try to tell me that I'm my worst critic. okay? okay. Deep breath, here goes...
However you may feel comfortable saying it, I am fat, chubby, "Big boned"(my mom's nice way of saying it), healthy (in a size 16 kind of way), Obese (according to any BMI or Weight Watchers scale) and waaaay over it. Now is not the time for you to try to make me feel better about myself because I have a great self esteem and I know that my weight doesn't define me and it surely doesn't slow me down...I just know what I know and I know how to fix it but if I'm surrounded by folks who tell me that I look no different now than I did 2 years ago, I get annoyed...because they're lying.

Here's a bit of history.
I've been 'chubby' all my life. Not chubby enough to be consistently teased...but when people needed to find a reason to be mean to me, that was the most common route taken. My mom always eased the pain by saying "you're not fat, just big boned" and she'd proceed to pile on the mac n' cheese. But in high school, I thinned out enough to be 'ok' to be seen in a short cheerleading uniform and I was praised for not having 'cottage cheese' legs. Then, a few years out of high school I landed a great desk job (same one I have now) which means I sit. Alot. And I gain.

3 1/2 years ago, I joined Weight Watchers and in the course of 6 months and with a lot of help from some super fit friends who comitted to workout at the gym with me during the wee hours of the morning at least 4 times a week, I lost 30 lbs. This was also combined with friends (like Bubbs) who jumped at the chance to support me by helping me make good choices because it also benefitted her and her 'get fit' goals. I felt awesome, I looked great in my own eyes (which not many women will ever be able to say about themselves) and I was healthy in a size 10-12 kind of way. I had no real desire to go any further with my weight loss but maybe toning up a bit and squeeze into a size 8 would have been nice.

But then life happened.

Many elements contributed to the eventual regaining of said 30 lbs and that's where I have been since about November of 2010. Things like stress, changing gyms which took me away from my fit friends because I found a gym closer and cheaper, dropping weight watchers because I needed to pinch pennies and create time in my days for my wedding, dropping out of TriFusion because I could no longer afford that kind of active lifestyle and it was taking a toll on my ego, the addition of birth control and it's tendencies to pour on extra poundage, the addition of heart medication that makes it hard to do any kind of physically strenuous activity for too long, giving myself the 'ok' to eat the entire meal when we go out or to go back for seconds (a big 'no-no' in weight watchers), just being married...oh and much, much more.

At the beginning of this year, I decided I needed to have a goal: to train for and complete the Portland Marathon on October 9th. The goal was not weight loss focused but weight loss was to be the icing on the cake. The problem? I'm now 2 months away from the race and logging 30+ miles per week and not one single pound has been lost. Frustrating? Oh hell yes. We're talking approximately 1 1/2 hours a day, at least 4 days a week of exercise and NOTHING. It's disheartening, really, and I'm at a loss.

Just recently, I had to break down and buy new, larger scrub pants for work because my old ones from 2 years ago no longer fit. I know I do not fit into my jeans anymore and all I wear are loose, cotton clothes because I'm tired of feeling confined and like I'm bulging at the seams. And I'm not being 'too hard' on myself...I'm being real with myself. I owe it to me to figure out what to do next. I'm worth the work and I'm sad that I let myself get back to where I was when I first started WW. But it doesn't mean I can't get back there. It took me 6 months last time and it was a lot of hard work and hard decisions; alot of hard conversations and reality checks. I know I can do it again so what is stopping me?
Every time I see a picture of myself I cringe...the latest? I did you a favor an posted it for you below!

It's a bit difficult to see, but if you check out my gut flopping around under and out of my shirt, you'd understand the negative attitude. I am a bit embarrassed but not enough to not post this...because it is yet another reality check.

So it is about time to start a new goal:
'BACK TO BUFF ME'. One may wonder what that means? Well, I've done yet another favor and posted 2 pictures of what I was like at the peak of my fitness/weightloss before the steady downfall.

 Oh yes, look at those guns! Aaaand I'm pretty proud that my tummy, though still 'thick', is flat!

This suit? I don't even want to try to get into it...I KNOW it doesn't fit anymore! But look! No bulging skin!







Now for the plan:

Well, that's not totally true. I have ideas...just which route should I go? More thoughts to come...

God would want a front porch

Last night I had a chance to walk the West Central neighborhood with about 20 folks and kiddos from the Porch, Branches and New Community (local churches). Together we answered questions and reflected on the lifestyle, stereotypes and vision for the area. It is common knowledge that West Central is the poorest neighborhood in the city...in fact, last I heard, the stats were that it was the poorest in the state! But as I walked, I paid particular attention to one thing (of many) that was strikingly different than many upper-class neighborhoods...the presence (and the actual use of) a front porch.

One of the children that attended the walk last night was asked by his dad what they thought was different from what they see in their neighborhoods. His response was, "The houses are rusty and they have couches on the front porch...Why are there couches on the front porch?" I grinned because I had an idea....but his dad didn't quite grasp it. Saying something similar to the idea that couches were supposed to be indoors.

My involvement at the Porch constantly makes me wonder what it is I am to be learning. Why do I attend a church in one of the toughest, poorest neighborhoods in the state? Why do I feel more at home when I'm there than when I'm with friends and family located in more socially acceptable and visually appealing 'hoods? Where the primary concern is where the next meal is coming from or how the heck a single mother will get her laundry done when it takes 2 bus rides to get to the nearest laundry mat? I'll tell you one thing that I am learning and absolutely loving: Community. Walking those streets, I saw community. People, regardless of their race, religion, social or economic status, are together...and many of them on their porches.

What is important? To me? To us? To God?
For me, I think it's the front porch and I have a feeling God likes the idea too.

skip more

I still get wildly enthusiastic about little things.... I play with leaves.  I skip down the street and run against the wind.  I never water my garden without soaking myself.  ~Leo F. Buscaglia, Bus 9 to Paradise


I think skipping could be the answer to many of our adult health problems.  ~Jeanne, as posted on iskip.com


If you've lost your enthusiasm, there's no better place to find it than on a skipping excursion.  And, you might just find your lost youth as well!  ~Jessi Lane Adams


I found myself skipping down the middle of my street yesterday and in an instant, I was giddy as a little kid. Of course there were other people around me...and wouldn't you know they looked at me like I was an idiot. An idiot they loved, but still an idiot. So the question arose...
"Why not skip?" 


The feelings I felt brought up a fond memory of mine. I used to be a greeter (don't laugh) at a local casino (of course I did other things! don't be silly) and I used to work closely with the security guards that would stand at each entrance. One in particular, Richard...aka Dick (yes, it's worth mentioning that I am/was slightly immature at that time and found it hard to call him by his preferred name...I still don't understand why anyone would do that). Dick was a 70+ yr. old, quick-as-a-whip man that always had a fun/funny story to tell. Honestly, the relationship I had with him was very similar to a grandpa/granddaughter...he looked after me and I looked up to him...not always for advice though because he more often than not, he had something feisty to say that would most likely get me in trouble. 


One day, I found Dick to be standing at the south end of the building and particularly moody. His chatter was cut a bit short and the light was lost from his face. When I inquired as to the problem, "What's with the long face?" a grumbly grouchy answer is what I got (I don't recall the details of his issue...but I think it was something to do with his boss...this was usually the case) I don't like to brag about myself but to this day, I am still impressed with my own actions...
At this time in the building of this casino, there were revolving glass doors on the south end of the building. We'd often find multiple people twirling round and round in them, eventually spitting themselves out with enormous smiles on their faces. Remembering this, a light bulb went on in my head. I casually walked over to the doors, knowing that Dick's curious eyes were following me. I threw myself at the doors with gusto and round and round I went. I didn't realize at the time what this would do to my mood but I was elated! Who'd have thought that revolving doors would give you the giddies? So I marched up to Dick and presented a challenge..."your turn". 
"What?! I'm not going through those doors!", he snorted.
"Sure you are! It'll brighten your mood, I guarantee it!" I said.
By this time, his face lit up a little. You could tell that he was debating... keep his cool card or do what he thinks would be funny. So I pressured him. 
"DO IT". 
He giggled (yes, 70 year olds still giggle...which makes me happy) "NO! I'm not going through those doors!" 
"Just go around twice...see what happens." 
He hesitated...but this told me I was getting to him. The next thing I knew, he uncrossed his arms marched toward the doors and round and round he went! Once, twice, three times! And like all the other folks we've seen, he spat himself out with an enormous smile on his face. Walking back to me he says, "I can't believe you made me do that." 
"What do you mean? I didn't make you do anything.", I quipped. "But it worked, didn't it?" 
I was as happy as a bird with a french fry...and I'm convinced he was too.


I hope to always remember this story and hold it dear to my heart. It amazes me the adults I run into that have lost their childlike abilities. I don't know if this is something we can blame our society for or not but for me, I want to remember the simple joys in life and never take for granted how these little things can make others feel. 

So for no reason, skip! Roll around in the grass! Sing Disney songs with your friends and for heaven's sake, take a trip around the revolving glass doors for once! Your heart will thank you. 

banana slug

"My friend asked me if I wanted a frozen banana. I said `No, but I want a regular banana later, so... yeah.`'

"It's not about how fast you go. It's not about how far you go. It's a process."

Amby Burfoot, The Runner's Guide to the Meaning of Life

A process indeed. I am currently in my first full week of actual Marathon training. I am no longer in my base training phase...which scares the crap out of me.

For one thing, with Ali and Jen, I visited our dear friend Beth in Seattle last weekend (Memorial weekend). I promised myself I would run my scheduled 7 miles on Sunday 'no matter what'. Apparently, there were loopholes in that statement...

'no matter what unless...'

unless there are huge hills in Seattle (check),

unless we walk 500 miles all over downtown (check),

unless we stay out until 3am dancing and grubbin' out at IHOP (check and check).

I wouldn't normally beat myself up for missing this run since I really did a lot of activity while we were in town. But this day set the pace for the rest of the week. Somehow I became too busy and too darned tired to run at all for the rest of the week! My only legit excuse fell on Thursday when I had to work extra early AND late then rushing out to grab yummy Veraci pizza for our small group that we host. Otherwise, I was just too darned lazy. Not the way I wanted to spend my last week of base training.

I wrestled with thoughts like, "is this it? Did I just ruin my chances by being lazy?" and "will I be ok after this entire week off?" The answer? YES, silly girl. In fact, I was soooo ok that when Bobby accidentally dropped me off 1 mile too far for my long run on Sunday, resulting in a surprisingly fast 8 mile run, I didn't even feel as though I'd been MIA. (it should be noted that this 'accidental' 8 miler was a lack of communication on both parts and failure to pay attention on my part...but it's a funny story now so who cares?)

I'm supposed to be swimming on Mondays but I just haven't gotten my act together the last 3 weeks...the longer I'm there by myself, the more I feel like the solitary beta fish I used to keep as a pet...back and forth, back and forth, round and round...I've got nothing to look at but the bottom of the pool and the occational unenthusiastic lifeguard when I come up to breathe. But I know it's good for me, this going round and round, so pick it back up I must!

Tuesday's run had the typical 'bag of rocks' feel to it...I think my body just hates waking up at 5:30am and this is the way it retaliates. But I encountered an obstacle course that looked like strikingly similar to Canadian geese and a slimy slug upon my return home that prompted the kid in me to poke it with a stick.

Apparently, they have 4 noses.

Favorite Things

because I didn't feel like writing about the same ol' stuff and because I, for some reason, think anyone who reads this might be interested. Lucky you!

Birds

because for some reason, I see them everywhere. You might say, "Of course you see them everywhere because they ARE everywhere." But I mean I SEE them. They don't just fade into the mundane-ness of everyday happenings for me...and I love that!






Puzzles

because it gives me something to do while the hubs plays video games or dabbles with the computer...and it makes me feel smart.








Glee

I have no explaination for this...which leads me to wonder if one is even needed?










Rachel

because life lessons are fun to learn from someone who's not trying teach you anything.








BOB fm

"80's, 90's and whatever!"

and last but not least...

Running

because this morning it hit me that I am truly enjoying what I am doing!