Musical Notes

Dawson: This is what we sang today. "Zoocheeus was a weak little man. A weak little man was he."

Aiden: Ooh, ooh we sang The Star Banger!

Still Standing...Barely

Happiest smile of the day before the race began hanging with the people who put in all that hard work with me. Love these ladies.

My dad got this of me on mile 2 of the 3 mile uphill climb. This is my "smile to cover up the pain because my awesome parents got up before dawn to cheer me on" face.

Turning into the chute where I was truly in pain but still had that silly smile plastered to my face, not because I was happy, but because I knew someone was going to be taking my picture. I'm so dang cheesy.

There will be more, much more…when it doesn't hurt so bad and I catch up on some much needed sleep. I finished. I'm glad and I wanted to share that with you.

Another Maxism

"What are these called Mama?"

"Rice Krispies."

"Oh, crusties?"

"No buddy. Rice Krispies."

"That's what I said!"

Maxisms

Upon picking up a pecan from the yard:
"Look Mama! I got you a coupon."

Talking about school this week:
Me: "Max, what letter are you learning about this week in school?"

Max: "C."

Me: "That's right. Can you tell me something that starts with C?"

Max: "B?"

Running High

It's T-minus 4 days or so until the big race...the one I've been training for since May, the one I thought I'd never do once let alone for the third time.

We did the last big race before the race on Saturday. It was a little 10K since we're supposed to be tapering this final week to rest up for the big day. With my ITB issues I almost skipped the race so I wouldn't get depressed and scared about the half. However, keeping with the "I'm not a quitter mentality" and because it was for a good cause, AND because it marked the beginning of the end, I decided what the heck.

Saturday the weather was gorgeous and the race had a good turn out. I decided to try to push myself a little, not full out mind you, but just a little. For the first 2 miles I kept up with 2 ladies much faster than me but after that they pulled ahead and I never caught up.

I did, however, have several personal victories. I actually passed a few people on the course who never passed me again. I also turned in a PR (not speedy, but a personal best for a 10K), and I placed third in my age group.

After the race I texted my brother/training coach to tell him that I finally understand why people like running. It felt good to know that when I work at it, I can get a little faster. My legs weren't in excruciating pain (first 6 are usually my best and it goes downhill from there; it's the last 5.1 that kill me). I was on cloud nine.

What this means for Sunday I'm not sure. Either God is going to heal my legs and I'll get to see my goal of running one half marathon without pain come to fruition, or they are going to hurt so bad that I won't be able to lift them and I'm going to have to figure out a way to cross that finish line with my head still held high. It's really in God's hands now and I trust that, as always, His plan is best.

Last night on our group run, a family of five deer ran across the path less than 5 feet in front of me. It was amazing! I could hear their hooves on the path. I'm taking that as some kind of sign. For what I don't know. If nothing else, running draws me closer to God and that's never a bad thing.

Otherwise Known as Xavier

"So Dawson, what did you learn about in Sunday school today?" I asked him as we walked into church.

"We watched a movie about a saint."

"That sounds interesting. Which saint was it about?"

"St. Francis the Savior," he said excitedly.

The Order of Things: The Overheard Edition

Dawson: "That's what you get for messing this up Max."

Max: WHAP!

Dawson: "Okay, now I'm telling."

Max: Sound of little feet running and high pitched voice squealing, "NOOOO! No! I get to tell on you first."

Foreign Language/Food

"Buenos dias," I heard Aiden murmur to himself as he walked through the kitchen tonight. He turned to me and asked, "Mama, do you know what buenos dias means?"

"It means good day doesn't it?" I asked. "Did you have Spanish today?"

"Yes, and I also learned another thing. Buenos nachos."

Running Low

I've been not liking the running so much lately. Since the ITB has kicked in with the pain, it's been so depressing. There's nothing like spending 5 1/2 months training for something that in the month before the big event, you can't do without excruciating pain.

The last few long runs have given me lots of extra time to think about this. I know that God has given me lots of gifts. As I entered into adulthood, I've stuck largely to these things with great success. However, it's taken me three seasons of training to own up to the fact that although I am gifted at a lot of things, running is definitely not one of them.

In the beginning this was okay because I was a novice and no matter how bad I was, it was better than I was doing before since that was nothing. As the years have gone on and the injuries continue to plague me, this realization has felt kind of like a slap in the face.

You see, no matter how bad at something I am, I have never been a quitter. And, if I simply say I'm not built to run and I stop, that's what I feel I'll be.

I'm not good at bowling either. In fact, I really stink at it. This, however, doesn't bother me...at all. In fact, when we go bowling I kind of revel in my ineptness. I've never seen myself as a good bowler. I don't have visions of winning bowling trophies and so to me it's simply a fun, and often funny, activity.

I do, interestingly enough, have visions of being a good runner. I can picture myself running fast and free. I dream about placing in races...or at least beating my own times.

Herein lies the problem. Now don't worry, I'm not abandoning the half. It's less than two weeks away and come what may, I'm crossing that finish line. I've worked too hard for too long not to. I may have to do it limping. I may have to be much slower than my previous times (is that even possible?). I may be really disappointed. It also means I am not a quitter.

After the race? Well that's still up for debate. Right now winter swimming sounds awfully good.

Reentry

We returned yesterday afternoon from a glorious week at the beach. A week that I thought many times before we left was more trouble than it was worth, but knew all the time would be so totally worth it once we got there.

Worth it hardly conveys the beauty of the week. Gorgeous weather, family walks and bike rides, staying at the pool until we were too wrinkled and hungry to stay any longer, building entire cities out of sand, racing turtles, winning Bingo, and eating shrimp just to name a few.

I checked in here Sunday but then I even abandoned the computer, phone and for the most part television. We were a family together with nowhere to go but where we wanted and nothing to do but be together. Even the weather cooperated. It was lovely, so very, very lovely.

Come Friday night I got this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that we had to go home the next day. I did no early packing. I wanted the vacation to last as long as possible and even then...I did not want to come home.

It's not even the beach that's so appealing as much as what it does for me and my little family. We were relaxed. We were happy. We were together. We were at peace.

Life is too busy these days and although I love my life...I'm not liking it much. Know what I mean? It's a season, albeit a long one, but a season I'm sure will pass. As much as I wanted to do whatever it takes to escape to the beach forever, I knew that was impossible.

Last night and today we had several events that helped to bring me back to reality. They were good things, blessings in fact. If I was still at the beach, I would have missed them. That's something to hold on to. In fact, if I think back to just a few short years ago I might remember vacations that weren't so relaxing. They were harder because it just involved doing all the same work in a foreign location. Those were vacations when I actually counted down the days until we "got" to come home.

This vacation was a huge step in the right direction. It was a sign of progress. It was refreshing enough to make me buckle down, get to bed and be ready for the total reentry into reality tomorrow morning. And for that, I am grateful.

Color Coding

Max has spent the last month learning about colors at school. He was already very good at recognizing them, but the last several weeks really drove them home.

Today we were swimming when Max spotted someone walking in. "Who's that black girl Mama?” he asked in his normal need to know everything tone.

"I don't know," was my response hoping the older woman had not heard the previous comment.

He watched as she came in and settled into her lounge chair. Then he looked right at her and asked, "Hey black girl, what are you doing?"

From the look on her face I could see that she was not amused...at all. I thought of all the things I could say; he's learning his colors, he didn't mean anything, I have an adopted brother from Nigeria, it's just the way he distinguishes differences. None of them seemed like they would satisfy her glare.

How can you explain to a 2 year old why that's not something that you can really say? Isn't it a shame that I feel like I should? If something similar happened to me, I would have laughed and answered the kid. Interesting, isn't it.

Raising Her Right

Tonight as I was helping Mackenzie pack for the beach she asked, "When we get there tomorrow, will we have time to swim?"

"Probably not tomorrow. We'll get there in time to unload and get to mass and by then it will be a little late for a swim."

"Okay. Then I'm going to unpack right away. I just love having my clothes in drawers."