And still counting ... (16,251-16,299)

 the writers on 66 Books, years of archives too, eggs to hard boil, salads prepped, fresh veggies

a goal planner, mild days when the house is warmer, melted snow, a seed catalog, books on gardening

insulated running tights, fleece pullovers, a second quote for a heat pump, plans for heat in the house, Nora

Marshall's Mom, Sandy, Sharon, Christy, Kellie

oatmeal chocolate chip cookies (warm from the oven), green tea, scrambled eggs with buttered toast, curious chickens who love their treats, home remedies

home fires, scented candles, clean clothes, ice water, green smoothies (1 c unsweetened plain almond milk, 1 c frozen mango, 1 c spinach, 1 c ice, 2 frozen bananas, 1 scoop vanilla protein powder. Blend till smooth--makes 2 big glasses)

a sale on the fleece-lined peekamoose joggers, buttersoft fabrics for chafed skin, the water bladder, air in the tires of an old road bike, how it flies up the hill

warm days, so much laughter with Erin during school, the rowing machine at the gym, weight training, increased strength and endurance

a song that comforts me, a friend (read: brother) in the north, Dave, Erwin, Jim G

11 miles, pizza night, a piano recital, these good things

Still

This is my favorite of all the shots. Really magical.

So peaceful.

The birdsong was lovely.

Shane texted me this morning to caution about icy roads. I decided to wait until sunrise to head out, to give the salt trucks time to do their thing.

Spent tulips.

Then I decided to hang close to home to be available in case Lanie needed me along her commute. I started a fire. I fed the chickens. I took a picture of the icy trees and icicles on the patio furniture.

 

Lucy!

Then I decided to scrap heading out early, pulled on my boots, and walked the property. It's probably been years since I went out to take pictures of the yard and enjoy the stillness. I'm glad I took the time this morning to light a candle, light a fire, go outside to be still and notice. So grounding.

 

Everything was cloaked in ice.

I soaked in the stillness of a winter morning. Listened as the ice began to melt and drip off the trees. Listened to the cries of birds hidden in branches. I remembered that this place is a wonderland. 

 

 

Even the thoughts that had hardened in my heart became softer. I could remember with gratitude instead of rejecting memories. Just because something goes bad, doesn't mean there was never any good. And it was a precious moment that I learned that perhaps the two could share a space. I saw the beauty in that too.

There's something still beautiful in its brokenness.

Trailer

Recently I ran in shorts. Then the next day, I was bundled for freezing temperatures. Then a different day it snowed, and when our driveway was plowed clear, a squall came through the day after and coated everything again, turning to perpetual ice because we didn't clear it. 

I ran in a comfy 27 degrees yesterday, dodging ice strips, and today my run temp starts at 60. I started to get my hopes up for spring, hopes to completely bypass March and its wickedness. But no. These February days are the trailer of what to expect in all of March--the most loathsome month of the year. 

I looked ahead at the forecast: warm today, then gusty winds and rain later, freezing morning temperatures tomorrow, and solid winter cold for a next week, until the crazy train begins its slow ascent again, a forward-moving delivery into the arms of March madness. 

I love winter. I love running in cold temperatures. But the toggle between seasons drives me crazy--especially the wind. Oh, the wind. It's so cruel. (I imagine these words in the same wailing tone Frankenstein cried when he began his theatrical and dramatic words, "Oh! Stars and clouds and winds, ye are all about to mock me!" ~Mary Shelley, Frankenstein, my favorite line in the whole book)

Yesterday, I fell back to sleep for a quick snooze before I was going to head out to run. Woke and didn't want to get out from the warm blanket. Sometimes the cold is unmotivating. But the wind, and it wasn't even windy yesterday (it was actually rather pleasant once I got out and moving), the wind carries its taunts and hurls them in my face. 

I said to Shane, "It's frightening to me, how quickly I could just stop running."

It's why I hate to take a rest day. It's why wind is tormenting me. And March, ugh, a month of indecision and unpredictability. These are the things that remind me how very little it takes to undo years of effort and progress. 

March comes like my biggest foe, to knock me around, to make me quit, to make me fail. 

Long game.

Resist the coddlers and the arms of mediocrity. Don't be friends with them. Don't even sit at the same table.

This is for you, March.

Mood board

I'm just under two weeks from deciding on the location of my first half marathon, between two very different locations, both on the same day. My March mood board (formerly vision) is heavy on training for other races in April: a first duathlon and a delightful road 10k. The trail was fun, and I'll probably do them again, but the second my feet touched pavement to cross a road on the trail race, I felt like my legs were wings. I love the road. Also, moving long runs to a new day to accommodate cycling training for the duathlon. 

Self: remember your why. You need to remember every day. March is coming.

What I like

While I'm waiting for my eggs to hard boil, here's a list of what I'm really liking these days.

My hair stylist occasionally curls my hair. I never do, but after this last time, I'm hooked (and probably, woefully, behind the times.). I bought a Beachwaver B1 curling iron to recreate the look. It's a delight, and it doesn't take much time at all to do, which was a concern to me because my hair is so long:

I really love my stylist. She works some serious magic.

new app stuff

all the ringlets--playing around in a new app

I love Altra running shoes. They have a wide toe box and zero drop, so your toesies get to splay out the way God intended them to, and it's like running barefoot (except they have a nice cushion), also quite like God intended. I was all over the Torin 4, but they've had a few changes (namely 4.5 and 5 (I didn't like 5--it felt snug and rubbed against my second toe to the point of numbness and bruising) ... 6 is due out in June). I started getting hot spots on my feet and noticed that I was seriously wearing down the padding in that area. So I switched to the Paradigm for some stability. I did 7 miles in them today, and I'm kinda in love. (It might be serious.)

Hello, new running companions

The laces feel velvety, and they have purple tips.

I started going through the seed catalog yesterday to plan out our garden for the summer/fall/winter (yes, even winter). I love fresh produce, so I'm really excited to try some new things in the garden this year, like fennel and golden beets (although Shane said he has specific nightmares from his childhood over beets--I'm sure we can make them better than the cold, bloody canned variety our parents served up). But mostly, I'm really liking being more self sufficient. And our little ladies aren't disappointing us. Honestly, I am sorry I ever waited so long to own chickens, and now I can't imagine my life without them. They are dear little companions as well.

From our chickens! Heart!

today's salad with lettuce, avocado, red onion, yellow bell pepper, persian cukes and apple. I packed up one in the fridge for tomorrow. I went with the apple cider vinegar dressing. Yum!

Hard-boiled eggs in the ice bath. The bumps are actually just the egg above water.

 

Summer bodies are made in the winter, and especially in the kitchen. I've heard that from both weight lifters and runners a lot this week. So I'm getting hardcore about my choices. I cut up a lot of lettuce and veggies today, and am in the process of hard boiling eggs for a week's worth of salads. To top them off, I'm using a tried and true salad dressing recipe:

1/4 cup olive oil

1/4 cup vinegar (your choice of vinegar: balsamic, red wine, white wine, apple cider, etc)

1 tsp dijon mustard (I actually don't measure this)

1 tbs maple syrup (I kinda eyeball this too)

(I add salt and pepper separately to the veggies)

Our main level heat has been out for well over a week (thank God for woodstoves!), and I am so glad that I have wool socks.

Finally, I ordered a box of mixed green teas. Ladies, before you ever go through menopause, you should educate yourself on how your body changes and what you can do to make that transition healthy and easy. I do recommend a book by Christiane Northrup, MD, called The Wisdom of Menopause. It's bigger than my Bibles. But it's so full of information. I actually started reading parts of it last year when I had over a month of heart palpitations, thinking I was about to go through The Change (whoa, tmi?). But I wasn't--it was just stress (seen in hindsight). Still, I learned a lot, and put some things into action, like green tea (well, actually just started that today), and CoQ10 supplements among others I already took. I always hear things from women who are in menopause about the struggles they have or what they wish they had done. Let's take the warning, friends, and be proactive. And especially, the ACTIVE part. Also, a dear friend put herself on hormones to help ease symptoms, and she developed 2 different types of aggressive breast cancer.

What are you liking these days?

And still counting ... (16,207-16,250)

teamwear because I'm on the team, a May 5k race on the horizon--yet a first, a year of firsts (10k trail, half marathon, duathlon, 5k), that the autopay paid her bill

permanent hooks along the run that Shane installed to keep the shower curtains up and the chickens dry, heat from the woodstoves, food in the fridge, chocolate almond milk for a quick hot chocolate, insulated running tights

the secret (not so secret) happiness I held post-race Monday for reaching a goal, an unexpected rest day because of an icy forecast that never came to pass, new milestones on the horizon, a new level of happiness, new people in my life

and the same for Lanie (new milestones, new happiness, new people), a new egg layer in the coop, a $22 discount on Altras, ridiculously solid sleep, running communities

the owner who let me exchange the Torins for another model, a new shoe that shows promise, the heat pump sales guy who has seven chickens, the tease of warmer temps outside, a really nice walk with Sandy (we did over 4 miles!)

friends on the same page where it counts, pictures from Anita from Florida, sore muscles, leftover ham for soup, buttermilk biscuits

Ruth, a pumice stone for my feet, mild days, a burger on the grill, a Saturday long run (9 miles)

running in shorts, and a next-day snowfall, chickens in the snow, wood for the fireplaces, banana chocolate chip bread

thoughts on friendship, three months left in the school year, garden and seed catalogs, Ruth in the snow chasing a frisbee, snow boots

How to become

In my 40s, I had long given up on the thought of being an athlete. I couldn't maneuver stairs very comfortably or easily, and my knees cracked whenever I bent them. My joints hurt terribly. I was overweight and out of shape. I couldn't even put on my socks easily anymore from my size and my inflexibility. An "aggressive" cataract diagnosis changed everything. 

I got a physical. I decided to make some changes. I read The Miracle Morning by Hal Elrod, and I remember a segment he wrote about running. "That's not me," I thought. Then I checked out a book at the library about fitness for beginners. There was an inspirational story about an 80-year-old man who took up running and ran a marathon after is wife died. I thought, "What an odd inspirational story for a beginner's workout book." And then I saw it was geared to the gray crowd. 

I bought a pair of running shoes for $25. 

I thought if I could run up to the top of my driveway and back every day, I'd be in better shape than my dad ever was. (It took me four days to be able to run to the top without stopping. What's funny: that first climb is still the hardest, four years later.)

A lap became a mile--in four months. I wanted a habit that was going to stick, not something I'd burn myself out in. A mile became nine miles.

 

 

"Look at you: from one lap on the driveway to running this race," Shane said to me as I waited for my wave to be called at Sunday's half-marathon and 10k trail race. 

I didn't become a runner because I hung out with runners (although I do have a few friends who run, we've never gone out running together). I didn't even become one because I believed in myself--I was going to call it enough at two miles and run two miles a day for the rest of my life; I hardly call that belief in oneself. 

I became a runner by making myself run. By joining online running groups: old runners, women runners, half marathon and marathon runners, injured runners. I hung out with the greats in the running world by reading their books--they don't know how they've mentored me. I read books on training, injury, and all things running. I read up on running shoes and got a good pair. I took up yoga for flexibility (and it also made my running better!). I used a free app to clean up my eating habits and stay accountable. I got serious in my goal setting, and got lucky to have a long-distance friend to crush a goal with me. I got a physical therapist to help me identify weaknesses and get over an injury. I joined a gym and started weight training to become stronger and avoid injury. I became part of an athletic community on Strava, a local race team, and a local running club. 

I had to find ways to support my goals, invest in myself, and step out of a comfort zone. 

Four years later, I still have never run with any of my friends who run. 

 

In some ways, it's good I didn't have a go-to (running) friend group--I had to step out of a comfort zone and seek people. I made the journey my own. 

My point is, whatever it is you want to do or be, go find resources to grow your knowledge about it. Enlist mentors in the industry and learn from them (books, podcasts, social media accounts). Find outlets for like-minded people. Hang out with people who've done the things you want to do and more, so that you're always looking forward. (Um, hello duathlon and half-marathon.)

Running two miles a day would have been a huge improvement over the unhealthy woman I had become. But I'm glad I didn't settle there. 

Once upon a time I read a story about an 80-year-old man who took up running and ran a marathon, and now I'm starting to think anything is possible. I love learning from the greats, but this guy, whose name I've forgotten, his story sticks with me the longest. The greats don't have to be the ones getting the awards and the big bucks and the book deals; they're the people who show up and do the things, regardless of who is watching.

Day story

 February 2022

Outside my window, longer light. Sunrises creep back along the clock, and sunsets stretch later. The chickens notice, and egg laying production is picking up. A third layer. Now a fourth. Spring is coming. While it's not my favorite season (mud, wind, and nature's growing pains), I am looking forward to 50s temps and shorts and tanks. 

And I quote, "No one is better than the other." The pep talk during the team meet. I'm glad he said that. Because it's easy to feel less than in wave six compared to the runners in wave one. But one thing I know, we all gave it our best out on the trail. Some went faster, but we all were sweating and our hearts were pounding. We all were hustling out there. And the team spirit, encouragement and camaraderie was so filling. My heart was so full.

Giving thanks for no injuries. Seriously. That was a huge blessing.

In the school room, we are getting through it. Third term is like the horse latitudes. 

From the kitchen, smoothies. Quiche. Eggs in a bowl with buttered toast. Nothing really exciting. I think I'm in the doldrums there too. Sticking with meal planning and repeats because: goals.

I am looking forward. I'm excited about upcoming races. I have something planned every month this year. And it feels good to make plans. It feels good to look forward.

I don't want to forget the feeling of belonging.

I am reading The Difference Maker by John Maxwell, Becoming Bulletproof by Evy Poumpouras (second time), Stillness is the Key by Ryan Holiday, and Courage is Calling, also by Ryan Holiday.

Around the house, it's winter. Dirt, mud, ash, wood chips. It's cold (our first floor heatpump is broken) unless we are hustling a fire. We are entering into the part of winter that fully saps me of energy. The wind. The cold. The endlessness of it. It's bleak. March is coming, and the only thing holding back the cringe is the thought of the half marathon.

I am hearing some songs on a playlist: Portugal. The Man: Feel It Still.  Samm Henshaw: The World Is Mine. Coldplay: Atlas. Pharrell Williams: Freedom. MercyMe: On Our Way. This is all my heart's soundtrack right now, due in part to the AI at YouTube. 

On the letterboard: Discipline trumps motivation.

I value strength.

A view of my favorite things:

The frustration of day one

18 degrees

team

team

I love the feeling of bringing my best. At the end of the day, don't you?

The part about getting running shoes is true, but I wasn't sad. And they were Altras.

hello lovelies--this color because they're out of other stock till March 1

 

At the table, it's been pretty empty. We've taken to sitting by the fire in the living room for dinners lately because it's warmest there.

And still counting ... (16,157-16,206)

 Erwin, Janet, Sandy R, the Strava cheering section

early mornings at the gym, the people there slayin' it, the lat pull down, vet tape, good sleep

hanging out with Shane talking after dinner, early bedtimes, an upbeat song by MercyMe (On Our Way), the passion of Canada, fleece clothing

rosemary in a pot, outdoor running, "racing" the runners in the treadmill army, awesome girlie curls, February goals and mood

books by John Maxwell (oh, The Difference Maker!), smoothie days with Lanie, frost on my eyelashes, team vibes pre-race, eggs from our chickens

Wegmans, Miss Pat, sunny days, ice cream in the freezer, green smoothies

rainy runs in my trail runners, woodstove heat, the swag, meeting the team, hugs with new friends

race day, no injuries, good weather, gloves and headband, trail shoes

teammates, Trader Joe's, the European-style whole milk yogurt, cheesesteak for dinner, an afternoon ice cream snack

a group photo, that You know the depths of my heart, that You give me the desires of my heart when I delight in You, chatty chickens, a wider roost

that man of mine

Race day

Yesterday we had the team meet and greet. It was a lot of fun connecting with some of the people I had been interacting with online. And truly, it was such a sense of belonging to be around people who wanted to talk about running and working out as much as I do. Such a great energy there. I got my team swag, my race apparel and bib, and a couple of extras they were selling at the merch table.

Last night, we had pizza for dinner, and after a second episode of Orphan Black, I looked at Shane to head up for bed. I wanted to get a good sleep. I slept solid till a dream cycle near 4 a.m., when I dreamed about the race venue, seeing people I knew from high school, my ever-recurring nightmare of public restrooms, and then getting ready to head to the starting line when I realized I forgot to bring my trail runners. 

Going through the mental list: charge watch, charge phone, don't forget shoes (haha), don't forget cowbells, pack a clean set of clothes to change into afterward. Also, really struggling with how to layer to stay warm and wear/promote team apparel when it's going to be 22 degrees at the start. I always sweat after the first half mile, and there's no place to drop a jacket. Do I just not wear one? Will this be the day that I'm cold the whole time? Do I just wear all the clothes and get through it? It's only six miles. 

Amanda mentioned there were puddles, big puddles from all the rain and melting snow, and she and her friends walked woods and climbed over fallen trees to avoid them. I don't mind a wet shoe, except it's going to be 22 degrees, and a wet shoe might feel absolutely miserable. Also, at 22 degrees, that puddle is likely a skating rink, so PLEASE, GOD, DON'T LET ME SLIP AND FALL OR TRIP OVER A TREE ROOT OR ROCK. I really would like to finish this race without injury. Amen. 

***

The ride there, I was doing ok until we turned onto the road leading to the site. Then I got wrecking nerves. I thought I might throw up. I realized, having never grown up playing a sport or an instrument, that I was finally feeling what game day is like--at 52 years old.

***

The start of the race wasn't so bad at all. I saw some team members, posed in the group shot, cheered in the starting corral. Heading out was really slow, and there were 1,000 people spread out over 7 waves. It was some time before we really thinned out. There were roots, ice, rocks, uneven ground. Some places we walked because there was a lot of ice. People walked the hills. I did too. And downhills that were an obstacle of tree roots and rocks. The scenery was beautiful. The volunteers were amazing. The team--my people. I loved their spirit. And we all knew each other by our shirts. There were call outs and hand slaps, and for the first time in my life, I felt like I was part of something. I never found that kind of unity in a church or a co-op. And it was freaking awesome. (Seriously, being around people who also want to talk about running, and upcoming races, and running, and cheering you on.)

I ran through the finish. That moment, I have imagined it a hundred ways, and it always brings me to tears. Because I didn't give up on myself. Because I'm not my dad. Because I worked for this. But today, no tears. Just an enormous smile. Someone handed me a medal. Another person handed me a bottle of water. I was so thirsty, and that cold, cold water felt like the sweetest gift. 

Shane filmed me crossing the line, and he was smiles too. 

***

The rest of the day, I lied around steeped in happiness. This was truly one of the best days of my life. I realized, they all can be, if I just take the time to notice and be grateful. 

No injuries. No wind. No rain. 

My man with me. Texts from friends wishing me luck. The camaraderie of a team. The sense of starting and finishing--that I could dream and do it. Home to my family, cheesesteak for dinner (and mint ice cream for an afternoon treat), watching a movie (Erin's choice from The Maze Runner series, even though books and movies often tell different stories.).

My next race is planned to be a half marathon in March. 

***

Note to self: ditch the jacket. You warmed up fast wearing a tank and two long-sleeved shirts. Just hand it off to Shane at the start next time. Also, don't forget to do a photo at the backdrop! (lol)

before

after

at the meet and greet

the bridge crossing over to the trail

No one wants Hemingway

A super early wake up today. 66 Books post. Weight circuit at the gym. Home to run. It didn't all go quite as planned. I wrote the on the reading for March 3, instead of February 3. I missed running in place of hanging the shower curtains along the run so the chickens wouldn't get wet. Effie gets tormented by the other girls if her head feather are wet. 

this is why the run walls get covered on rainy days

 

And then I got hungry and ate breakfast. One thing led to another and I started a fire, grabbed trash bags and started purging in the laundry room and school room. It actually felt ridiculously fulfilling to clear off the school table and put things away. 

Today, Erin and I baked a gluten-free banana chocolate chip bread (Against the Grain by Nancy Cain). The last time I made this recipe was in January 2016--once as a pre-co-op breakfast with coconut hot chocolate, and once for a friend who was packing up her house to move. Time sure goes fast. Years, and I'm just getting around to making this particular recipe. It made my house smell wonderful. And it tastes so good that Erin and I went back for seconds. (I make notations in my cookbooks with the date I first made the recipe, our opinion of it, what I added or left out, and any special occasions.)

Warm, sweet bread. Warm school room. Satsuma scenting the spaces too. It feels like home. It feels like everything home should be: sweet, warm, welcoming, embracing. 

Ruth is sitting in front of the fire. Erin and I are finished with lessons for the day. I'm looking over the map for this weekend's race. Glad that it's rain and not snow, but who knows with this weather forecast. 

There are several boxes of books on the floor that I need to take care of--mostly elementary grades of Saxon math and Shurley Grammar that I need to either sell or unload. A few fiction books from my past. I tried to sell them online to a used-buy-back merchant, but these books didn't make the cut. 

Apparently, no one wants Hemingway. Tender is the Night. For Whom the Bell Tolls. Since I'm not buying any books this year, I might go ahead and read these--but there's a long list ahead of them. (And I need to stop checking books out of the library!) Surprise--I had these books and never actually read them. I do remember reading part of For Whom the Bell Tolls to my dad one of the times he had heart surgery; I had gone to sit with him and keep him company while he was recovering, and we started this book. But we never finished it.

So far, I've read five books in January and have two in the works right now. Just not Hemingway yet.