And still counting ... (17,591-17,650)

Mondays, swim practice, the snorkel, when Gavin came into the room smiling and talking, a co-op to shadow

acupuncture, a super soft and fuzzy blanket, coffee in the morning, fan fiction from Erin, "Peace Like a River"

a first race of the year, how she sometimes calls me "Mommy" still, how another one shares her favorite fan fiction with me--and that when I read it and discuss it with her it is the richest investment I make in her heart, for a love so strong that laughter and sobs run together in an embrace, 50 yards

the team clothes that remind me of Astropops, Madison at her first trail race, Shane up on a Sunday morning to go with me, an afternoon nap, my team

cold water at the aid stations, Gatorade too, the sound of rushing water in the river, trail views, steep climbs

no injuries, a destination next race, a student's birthday surprise, for a college friend who left a "great wake" in life and inspires me to do better, Ann W for remembering me

broccoli salad and leftovers of it, crawling back into bed before a run and he joins me, warm clothes, running shoes in the mail, running challenge for a shoe discount

my class on my heart, warmer weather, chickens, her cosplay, mall roaming

the miniature model kit, pizza for dinner, a fire in the wood stove, power restored, coffee in the morning

sugar, for nightmares that give voice to the things I wanted to say, closed doors, my swim instructor cheering me on at 50 yards, the students wishing me a good week on their way out

a classroom reserved for game day, hope, texts with Christy, a phone date with Michi, laundry to fold

that movie "About Time," how he'd take me out to Valentine's Day dinner if I wanted, that we never needed date nights or holidays, this life we've cultivated, all the training

Day story

 February 2023

Outside my window, night. Winter. Cold. Stillness.

And I quote,

"I like a messy house. It's honest." Erin, on the way back from visiting an immaculate home.

In the school room, ALL THE BOOKS. And foam heart cutouts. In the Life Skills class I'm teaching, we are focusing on stewardship of time, talent, treasure, heart, and health. We are wrapping up time and moving into heart. I have a project for my students using these hearts. I hope it turns out to be a blessing for them and the recipients.

From the kitchen, lots of good foods. I somehow found myself in 75 Hard after a teammate asked if I was in. My first experience with 75 Hard: I was exhausted with all the races I was doing and then adding in the training of 75 Hard. But it turns out, I would just have been tired anyway. The second most notable time, a summer heat streak, illness, and a power outage were all enough for me to throw in the towel. The third most notable attempt, my body went nuts on me with elevated stress levels, tanking heart rates, low energy reserves with little recovery, and female issues ... And this time? I've given up junking, and almost thirty days into it, the cravings have stopped. I'm still exhausted (who wouldn't be? I'm doing a combo of swimming, weight training, and running every day), my stress levels look like I'm on fire (and why not? I'm putting my body through a lot of training. I'm also teaching, which, apparently, amps me up.). And my heart rate still tanks (a recent week of resting rates in the mid-30s. I talked to a fellow teammate about the crash and he said that's normal. I'm going to go with that. Because really--I'm not stopping. Currently in the 50s rates.). So from the kitchen, I'm eating right and it feels good.

I am leveling up. And it looks like sweat, cuddles, balloons, preparation, discipline, attitude, intention, resilience, rest, and more.

I don't want to forget the look on O's face when she walked in the room and saw the balloon at her seat and us on our feet and the applause and the song and how she looked so moved, blushing, smiling, full. Or how Erin nestles into me to recharge and connect and it's all of motherhood in an embrace. Or the texts I get from Lanie throughout the day--grateful she includes me in her thoughts. Or the email I got from G's mom, and how a simple act affected a whole family. 

I am reading Seen by Hutcherson and Williams. Preparing to start Jon Acuff's teen version of Soundtracks (loved it!) called Your New Playlist. Also, Win in the Dark by Joshua Medcalf. Erin is going to select the next fan fiction for me to read.

Around the house, all the honesty of mess. Did lots of laundry yesterday, an armoire now full of workout clothes (I think that's all I own), for upcoming workouts. Teamware in new colors: yellow, orange, pink. It reminds me of Astro pops. 

I value resilience.

A view of my favorite things,

Winter running is the best!

First race of 2023--ready!

Freaking TEAM!

"I Feel Love" remix extended version: VIBE

That Body Battery, that Stress level--SWOON

Remembering a friend from college who left a great wake.

 

At the table, nine students and an assistant who exudes love. Grateful.

Mood

 Welcome, February.

I ran into a former student's mom on Monday. It was wonderful to see her, wonderful to catch up, wonderful to hear about how her son is doing. She's a mom of many, and it was beneficial and healing to hear about her experiences with an emptying nest, on what our job as a mother is, and so many other comforting and uplifting thoughts. 

I mentioned what felt like lost years after my dad died--as a backdrop to illustrate a thought. She said she remembered seeing me just days after he had died (we were both shopping at BJS, she told me--that was the last time we saw each other, in 2017), and I looked at her, puzzled. (I saw you? You saw me?!) I had no memory of it. No real memory of the years. But this is what I felt in that moment yesterday with her: that lost time, the lost memories--they were held and remembered by someone else. It humbles me. One of my lowest points, kept in the heart of someone else--a sister in Christ. 

A Facebook friend birthday to wish happiness was my only indication of the date, the anniversary of my dad's death. It would have passed unnoticed, unreflected, and mostly did except for that brief realization.

"I guess that is finally healing," I said to Shane. 

Heading into February with mood. Training. Savoring. Living.