And still counting ... (17,401-17,515)

for heat that greeted him, how he noticed the smell and sight of homemade cookies, how the lights and music felt like a welcome, dinner in the oven, how the smell of it wafted upstairs

fan fiction she shared, a music track she plays on piano, dishes to clean up before going off to bed, to be the person behind the camera at least, a membership renewed

summer triathlon goals, 92-year-old Sue who walked with me into the pool area, a first-day swim, overcoming first-day fears, a waggy dog at my return

an appointment with a trainer, swim goggles, a really delightful evening hearing holiday piano music by a musician who has grown so much, drives with Lanie, that she ate the chicken and pasta dinner I made

jammy pasta, a last half marathon of the year, a weekend with two races, a husband who gets up early when he could sleep in, the fleece running cap

the trail run with Ricky, the group selfie of the back of the pack, a run through Annapolis at Christmas time--so lovely, all the hills, friends who acknowledged the special day

the feeling at the start line at my last half marathon of the year--surging gratitude, the water views, a walk through a (different) historic town with Erin on her birthday, milk chocolate turtles, the chicken earring

NPCs, physics with Shane, the shop sign on the run that didn't surprise me in the least (a family name), fog and drizzle, fleece clothing

a comfy bed, food in the fridge, books to read, registration to a first half in 2023, swim practice

hydrogen peroxide and tea tree oil, swim training lessons scheduled, wood stoves for when the heat went out, heat restored, all the Christmas music streaming through the house

coffee, foggy days, when inclement weather changes plans, rest days--unexpected, a 2023 goal planner, registration for a first-ever triathlon

her hard work paid off--another 4.0, the beautiful wreaths at the meat store, Trader Joe's bounty, the rowing machine, a good yoga session

old posts that remind me of all the very good things in life, musicians on a historic street playing Christmas songs on a Sunday, how the music filled the streets and got even better as we walked away, time together--the four of us, a surprise drop-by from Anita

a knit project, art by mail by and from my sister, a church for Lanie, full training days at the gym (swim, weights, run), the three of us at the church service

running into Karen L in the parking lot, seeing old friends, Cindy to greet us--a former writer on 66 Books, lots of familiar faces there, and Becky P and her family right behind us

how it felt familiar, worshiping together, "Silent Night" by candlelight--lovely, dinner out with Shane and a great server who told us to stay as long as we wanted, power restored in the wee hours in frigid temperatures (so grateful to the workers who stayed up all night to restore power to our area!)

heat in the house, and running water, coffee in the morning, that peppermint creamer, driving around with Lanie and Shane to look at the Christmas lights all over the county

chocolate Frostys from Wendy's in 10-degree temperatures, the "I Choose Freedom" sweatshirt and my fleece pants to wear to bed--I stayed so warm even without heat in the house, a network of good neighbors, swim drills, rest days

turning pages for Lanie at the Christmas Eve midnight service, cinnamon roll dough in the bread machine, Ruth, lights on the Christmas tree, a warm home

the memory of my friend's voice singing from behind me at the service, Christmas together, nachos on Christmas Eve, a January calendar completed and sent, friend dates for Erin

Lanie's upcoming concert, how she handled all the details, and she let me make the invitations, her new plans, garlic bread with salty butter

lunch with Anita, a favorite salad, hugs and happy wishes, the stories she tells me, and having her in my life

Stephanie B who is one of the most positive presences online and in real life, that she's my teammate, that she's happy for me--genuinely, runners, a new team shirt

Future self

This year was full of progress and surprise. I am so grateful. I am so grateful to my past self, the one who desperately wanted a change, and bought a pair of running shoes never expecting to like running. I remember I thought I'd give it a try, because of a section in Hal Elrod's book that wouldn't let go of me (when he started running--I clearly remember thinking, "Well, good for you. But I can't run. My knees hurt."). I decided I would try, and if my knees hurt, I would stop. 

I'm so glad for that past me who wondered, "Is this it?" when I got to mile one. And then mile two. And then mile three. That now I run half marathons FOR FUN. I also signed up for my first triathlon. Girl of 2018--YOU HAD NO IDEA WHAT YOU STARTED.

Do something your future self will thank you for. Make the bed in the morning. Heed the voice that tells you to charge your phone, fill up the gas tank, grab that extra something at the store. Take the walk. Join that gym. Read a book. Have that lunch. Do the things. Little steps do add up. 

This year, my little steps added up to well over a thousand miles. 

I had lunch with Anita yesterday, and she told me her grandson on the West Coast signed up for Salsa dance lessons--and he's having the time of his life. He wanted to do something totally unlike himself, and he couldn't dance. And now he's doing new things and meeting new people and having a blast. It made me so happy to hear about him. Happy for him. Happy. 

A teammate commented that when he started his tri journey, he started hanging out with people who were doing the things he wanted to do. And that's great advice. Many of my influences were from books and online accounts, but now I have a great support network in real life. 

I once I mused aloud to someone that I wanted to run a half marathon. She seemed enthusiastic for me, and I clearly recall her response, "How can we get you there?" Lol, I remember thinking we?!

But there was no we--and that happens. Not everyone comes along for the journey--and not everyone wants you to reach your goal. 

My friends are posting recaps of their year, and their hopes and plans for the next year. It's wonderful. And a woman at my co-op, the one who said my words are in her head, the one who didn't just get the goal planner--she got the loaded bundle (!!!), she told me she was making a plan to run a 5k in 2023. (I plan on being one of her biggest fans. I'm already so proud of her.) 

I hope whether you're thinking long-term (like who you want to be when you're 80), or short-term (like how you want to feel at the end of the day), you'll do something your future self will thank you for. I can't tell you how much I appreciate a made bed when I settle down for the night. Or the coffee prep I did for the next morning. Or, recently, the daily Advent study I did that completely took hold of me. One day my future me will be glad that I took the swim lessons and got past my insecurity of swimming laps with the real swimmers--and certainly the 80-year-old version of me will be grateful for the memories, the journey of it all, the friends I made along the way, and the family that was by my side.

This year, I also had another benefit to see what the future of the past had become, and I've learned to thank God for closed doors--and laugh in delight and amazement of God and who he is and what he can do. Oh that I had ever cried (over a closed door).

Superlatives 2022

The best of 2022. I like to look back. Lots to think about. Lots to be grateful for.

In my Powersheets planner, there's a section to record the favorites. Here's a peek:

(one of many) favorite memory--the last plunge in the pool at the season's end with Erin. That water was SO COLD. But we did it--it was possibly her only good swim (toe issue for most of the year). And after a while, the water didn't feel so bad. It was so fun.

Best meal--the pit beef at a local place that Brooke gifted me a card to. Once I ate there, we became frequent customers. I had never had pit beef before and it became a fast favorite. They are closed until spring now, and I can't wait to go back. Oh, that sweet/spicy sauce. So, so good.

Most beautiful sight I saw--a hound dog lying in a patch of sunlight on a bed of leaves. Nella loved being outside all the time. I'm so glad she had a good yard here to enjoy. 

This year I did two senior photoshoots and I loved them both. There are lots (LOTS) of talented photographers out there, so I feel pretty lucky when someone asks me. I don't do photography like I used to--but I love the chances I get to. I also got a chance to edit a manuscript for a friend who published her book. This was a real blessing to me--to dig into work I love.

In fact, in 2022, I felt a real return to my true north. I ran a lot of miles this year, and I biked and added swimming to the mix too. These things are deeply satisfying--in my twenties, I was big into endurance, so it felt like a return to authenticity to be doing these things so much. Likewise with editing and photography. Even my walk with Jesus got a course correction, and I am thankful. And around the home, as hard as it is to keep up, I have a renewed sense of home and family--and a renewed purpose to cultivate what matters.

From the year end reflection, I felt there was a lot of growth emotionally, spiritually, and physically. Still growing. Still learning. 

As I closed out this year, a phrase stood out. It was part of a combo: memento mori/memento vivere. I focused most on the "memento vivere" part. Remember to live. This year was most memorable for all the races I ran, and all the training that I did in order to prepare. Getting off the couch, so to speak, and getting out the door. Running, working out, biking, swimming--they all make me feel so alive. Being with my people and going places, doing things, laughing together--so alive. After a really long time of going through the motions, people pleasing, and deriving my value from the validation of others, it felt good to cast that aside and start pursuing the things that matter to me, for the sheer delight of it. (Laughing at the tears I cried days before the duathlon--and now I'm registered for my first triathlon in 2023!) The feelings I felt at the start of my last half marathon of the year, it was the culmination of all the feelings of all the starting lines this year. All the work that went into preparation--and the very fact that I did it--lived and leaned fully into the person God made me to be. Abundant life.

Remember to live. 

Grateful for a very full 2022. Looking forward to 2023. 

Also, I didn't get around to making Christmas cards this year. I bought a pack of store cards and I'm sending them out to people who sent us a card. Merry Christmas and very best wishes to anyone who comes across this page.

Endurance--the long run

My 2022 word of the year was ENDURANCE. 

This was also the year that I would sign up for a half marathon and set a goal of being able to run 13.1 miles. 

It was (insert all the good feelings) emotional signing up for, traveling to, and stepping up to the start line of that first half marathon in South Carolina. It was (insert all the good feelings) emotional crossing the finish line to my husband's waiting arms and seeing his smiling face. I was hooked. Along with trail runs, a duathlon, 5ks and 10ks, I also completed four half marathons this year--the last one this past weekend, which was preceded by a 5-mile trail run the day before, giving me 18 miles in one weekend. 

When my teammates amusingly asked me (at the trail run) why I wasn't doing the 10-mile distance, I replied, "I have a half marathon tomorrow, so I'm taking it easy today." 

Their expression of utter surprise is burned in my memory, these guys who are (younger) multi-sport veterans, I don't think they expected it of me. At all.

Lining up to the start line of this last half was emotional, and I really had to suppress the tears of gratitude because I had a lot of miles ahead of me and I didn't need to be choking on myself. 

Sometimes I didn't endure--like the countless times I started and stopped 75 Hard. The first bout was during an intense spring race schedule that had me out every other weekend. I was exhausted from the training and racing alone. To add in double workouts and All The Water was so difficult when I just wanted to sleep. I revisited the program this summer, when I wasn't racing, but the heat wasn't so friendly, and then we had nearly a week without power (or water, or toilets) and then the entire household got a nasty virus--so I gave up on it again. Finally in a burst of determination, I decided I would finish out this year on plan, slay this beast, and rise victorious. I was doing great until day 37 when my stress levels glowed orange and high, even in sleep, and my resting heart rate at night kept steady at 34 bpm. Plus, I got my (full) period 4 times in two months. I backed off again. DNF. And I'm ok with it. After a week, my stress levels went back to normal with cooling blues, my sleep regulated, my heart rate returned to the 50s. The jury is still out on my period ... Good grief.

But emotionally and spiritually, endurance showed me I still have work to do. I'm grateful for another year on 66 Books, returning in 2023, and I'm super grateful for an Advent study that feels like I'm reading words for the first time. I'm glad to be abiding in Christ after years where I reacted to the messiness of Christian communities, distracted. 

And emotionally, the real endurance of going through life--the wrestle with things not being how I wanted or expected ... the disappointments, wounding words ... and the hard parts of not being able to fix all the things ... this fall has felt pummeling, hard ... the hindsight of choices, crushing at times ... bending so hard I thought I would break. Regret. Grief. And a repeating message in lots of reading, including two main titles (Resilient by John Eldredge, and Resilience by Eric Greitens), reminding me that resilience is bending and not breaking; it's about bouncing back, able and capable--resilience: an ability to recover from or adjust easily to misfortune or change; resilient: capable of withstanding shock without permanent deformation or rupture. (The optimist in me likes to think that having ability and capability doesn't mean that I'll actually have the testing, just the strength.)

It's also my word for 2023. God, help me.

Resilience. 

Day story

 December 2022

Outside my window, grays of winter. The temperatures are cold, and it's made winter running delightful. However, getting my head ready to go out in the cold still takes a little work, but once I start running, gloves and jacket are off by mile one.

And I quote,

"We are what we repeatedly do. Therefore, excellence is not an act but a habit." Aristotle

In the school room, a mess. Stacks of library books, books from Amazon, school books, class prep books. Piles toppled. The table is covered. And running clothes and shoes from the weekend--everywhere. Did I mention the dog hair? Ugh.

From the kitchen we baked peanut butter blossoms and ate them. Last night I made pasta for Erin's birthday dinner request. A portion set aside for her and Lanie because they like it their own way, and a portion set aside for Jammy Pasta (my comfort-food favorite!). We ate at the table together, and it was wonderful to be there, the four of us.

I am grateful for what this year has been. Lots of races--four half marathons (just completed #4 yesterday!), a duathlon, two 10ks, two 5-milers, five 5ks (the last is on NYE). Lots of growth--the distances, the training, the swimming--and around here, reading, working, preparing. I'm grateful that Shane comes to the races, even on these half marathons where he's up at 3 a.m. with me to get ready. Yesterday's start time was 7:30 a.m. at a venue an hour away and we got there early (6 a.m.) for packet pick up. I'm grateful that Lanie's been home still, because I know it all can and will change. I'm grateful for these last years homeschooling with Erin.

I don't want to forget colored lights on the Christmas tree, wreaths on the doors, fairy lights on the mantle, Christmas music in the car, Christmas songs at the piano. This year, Lanie and I went to her friend's holiday performance. He's an amazing pianist, and played so many festive and energetic songs. Next weekend we are going to the state's capital to enjoy the decorations and atmosphere. I even reserved spots for us to attend a former church's Christmas services. It's nice to slow and savor all aspects of the holiday. This year, I've even managed to stay on track with an Advent study, and I'm loving it.

I am reading Light and Life to All He Brings published by Well-Watered Women; Grit to Great by Thaler and Koval. I'm also reading an online fan fiction Erin recommended. I just finished Soundtracks by Jon Acuff, and I loved it so much that I ordered the one for teens too to have as a handy tool. Next up, Never Finished (clean edition) by David Goggins. 

Around the house, windows in the kitchen, living room and dining room bearing festive adornments. A holiday feel. One night when Shane came home, the warm lights on in the kitchen, delicious aromas from food cooking, freshly made peanut butter blossoms cooling on the cookie racks, Christmas music playing throughout the house, and delicious warmth from our heat pump welcomed him in from a darkening and cold outside. He even commented on all of it, and I can't tell you how full I felt from his words.

On the letterboard, an old favorite: level up.

I value excellence.

A view of my favorite things

so much cardio

Miss Kate is 101. Also, this service was a real blessing to me.

team end-of-year party

cold weather running--bring it

this book--so good

swim practice--first day

the holiday concert--Nick and Lanie

Erin got her ears pierced for her birthday

My last half marathon for 2022. So many happy feelings to have reached this point.

 

At the table ... we are celebrating Christmas in a patchwork way of church and nachos on Christmas Eve Eve, and attending church service. I'm glad to be back visiting our former church together.

And still counting ... (17,301-17,400)

volunteering at the water station, Doug who ran 40 marathons since his 40s and is still running at 73 yrs old, lots of books, heat in the house, good coffee

teamwear ordered, a tri kit, an upcoming team party, the flyers for the spring class, the creative surge, mums in a vase

a fire on a Sunday afternoon, fleece headbands and jackets, gloves, watching a Christmas movie together-ish on a Friday night, pomegranates 

gym mornings, the Planksgiving challenge videos, a next-year goal planner, vinyl stickers made by a friend, new goals

texts with Michi, peppermint mocha creamer, winter sunrises through the woods, a balaclava on cold morning runs, every breath

eleven miles without a walk or water break--and it felt so good!, the writers on 66 Books, Dave and Erwin's yes, homeschool, pomegranates

Effie's head feathers, cold weather, cold weather running, The Iliad with Erin, candy canes

a great run, friend requests, athlete check-in in very chilly temps, a Turkey Trot 5k, a PR

pecan pie, Miss Linda's potatoes, the text from Candice, that my voice is stuck in her head, a 90-day goal planner

a giraffe ornament, our traditional outing, a tree up and decorated, wreaths on the door, posts on 66 Books

Kellie and Erin's yes to 2023, a book on resilience, a long weekend with my guy, Ruth who watches at the window for my return, leftovers for dinner

turkey sandwiches for lunch, family texts and happy wishes, a smile and energy that lasted all day, gym hunting, dreaming out loud for a barn remodel

good books, cold water, Gatorade after a long run, her gift for her friend, Lanie's plans downtown

the Thanksgiving week service with four churches, the pastors and messages, the music, saying hello to old friends, heart talks with Erin

warmth from the sun on a winter-like day, talks about holiday stuff, plans for a next Thanksgiving already at work in my mind, indoor goggles on order and on the way, essential oils on sale

"Carol of the Bells" with Erin on piano, tearing laughter over hand placement on the keys, bundled trees on car tops, a gym with a pool, the lineup of 2023 races

his yes to Maine, his yes to the swim club, his yes to keeping my membership, how he talked to me while I walked through a parking lot trying to find my car, the hanging bar contraption

hearing Lanie play again at church, the prayer requests and testimonies, an Advent Bible study through 1 John, cold weather running, the sign-up after I handed out flyers, two new writers on 66 Books 2023

how God pulled it all together so quickly that we are set for a 5-day plan, and possibly looking at a 7-day plan, Keenan's acknowledgement, a seat in our old pew, how Candice was so excited about the products that she bought the bundle

fleece pants, Ruth, chocolate kisses, time with my family, this holiday season with its music and decorations

Turkey trot

Thanksgiving was a celebrated event for so many years. I hoped my daughters would cherish memories and want to carry forward some kind of tradition. But one kid is a vegetarian and doesn't like most of the foods I make, and the other probably wouldn't want the effort.

This year, I wasn't even sure I'd be making the traditional meal. I had a small turkey breast that I took out of the freezer perhaps a day too late (it was fine). It would be a lot of work considering half the table wasn't even interested in the meal. I considered doing a Freschetta gluten-free pizza instead (we are saving that for tonight as we trim the tree). 

So yesterday, I got up at 3:30 a.m. and started coffee. I wrote for 66 Books. I got my clothes ready for my very first Turkey Trot. I've wanted to run that race since 2020, but a pandemic shut it down a week before, and the next year I threw out my back the day before the race. This was going to be my year.

I signed up to do athlete check-in, so we got there just before 7 a.m. One of the things, if not THE thing I love about races is the energy and atmosphere. I soak it all in. It feeds me. I loved greeting the runners. I loved smiling and receiving smiles. I loved the costumes and music. We were all there to have fun. 

I set my watch and took off for a fun 5k. I didn't even bother looking at my time (I try not to anymore) and just knew that I'd be finished when I crossed the finish line. It was so fun. And I had a PR. Yay!

I soared on joy all day. The night before I was telling Shane about a meme I saw about running, how if you're dating someone you should find out if their family is the type to drink mimosas on Thanksgiving or run a race. I felt teary as I said I wished we had been the family to run the race. I wished I had passed that kind of tradition on to my kids. The joy I felt all day was incredible. 

Lanie wanted a pecan pie, so I baked one. And then I just made the meal that afternoon. I even pulled out the Thanksgiving plates that used to be a staple of the holiday. Sadly, no soup because my butternut squash cubes got funky. Erin had pasta. Lanie ate everything but dressing. Shane had two plates. And I made the sweet potato casserole that I lovingly call Miss Linda's potatoes because they were her favorite.

We ended the day watching Planes, Trains, and Automobiles (well, three of us made it through--actually I fell asleep at the last part, so two managed to finish it). 

Shane and I wondered about Thanksgiving futures. While it was cozy and simple just us, I think next year I want to expand my table again. 

But first, I'll run.

Haha, this guy. He said he wasn't expecting me to finish so soon so he wasn't ready with the camera when I crossed the finish line. This is really funny to me. I shaved two minutes off my usual mile for a 6-minute earlier finish. Woot-woot!

 

 

Day story

 November 2022

Outside my window, a starry sky. Some mornings are so crisp and clear. I see Orion standing watch. Catch moon phases. Recently, on the way to the gym, I caught the Blood Moon eclipse. I appreciate the sky view in the early morning. Especially when the sun starts its loyal rise--there's nothing like a sunrise viewed through winter woods.

And I quote,

"Congratulations, you have been accepted for the 2023 ... team!"

Giving thanks for another year together as a family of four. Thinking on lasts: is this a last Thanksgiving of all of us home? Is this a last Christmas under one roof? Will these coming months be next lasts where we are just as we are? The crux between knowing and not knowing, the awareness of last and the savoring and the aching. But in all, giving thanks.

In the school room, a box tote filled in preparation for a next spring class. I am enjoying reading through The Iliad with Erin, and our time together is special to me. 

From the kitchen, good grief, the Chobani Peppermint coffee creamer. Someone recommended it, and I saw it at the store yesterday. I added a taste to a cold cup of coffee and wow. So good. Keep your pumpkin spice, friends. I love Christmas flavors (and winter!).

I am preparing. I made a flyer for the spring class because I wanted to max out my class total. At day's end of distributing a handful, I was another student closer to being full (two to go!). I love the creative process. I love preparing for classes (I really love teaching). I'm preparing for a half marathon in December. I have four races left before year's end (a Turkey Trot, a 5-mile trail, a half marathon, and a NYE 5k). I'm also adding more weight to training to bump up my strength. I ordered the team tri suit. It's exciting and scary all at once. A next year goal planner has the months at a glance, and colorful circles covering the dates of next year's races I'm doing. Getting ready for school. Getting ready to run (and level up on running). Getting ready for 2023 goals and focus. 

I don't want to forget the depth of feelings I felt at being chosen. This level of camaraderie and cohesion, it's powerful and uplifting. When people finally get that we aren't against each other, but competing with ourselves of yesterday--that we can be for each other. Communities, co-ops, churches, mom groups--if they could only adopt the attitude of encouragement in place of superiority, judgment, and jealousy. I don't have energy for exclusion, haughtiness, facades, and one-up-manship in circles where I look for authenticity and safety. I'm thankful to be part of a team that is positive and actively encourages and provides guidance to be the best version of oneself. That's the kind of stuff I want to carry forward. Those are the people I want to have around me. It's thought provoking that my main source of encouragement would be found among athletes ("competitors"!) rather than Christian communities, homeschoolers, neighborhoods or mom groups. (Haha, maybe it's because we're all jacked up on endorphins--we can't help but be happy. But truly, these people often stay around after they've crossed the finish line to cheer others on. At a local race this past weekend in a new group, I saw this beauty in action--and that they gave me a prominent role in their celebrations on my very first time there. Yeah, I want to live like that.) This year is a first that I've been around others who pour into each other, and discovered, also a first, that we can pour out and still feel full. I have not known this in some groups and relationships, rather I felt depleted and spent and confused that I was feeling emptied and parched and weary. Why do some places and people drain and others are a source of refreshing, even when you are pouring out? Just thinking.

I am reading Ready Player Two by Ernest Cline. I read the first book months ago, and I was happy to pick up with the characters again, however, I am disappointed in some of the divisive references. I'm just disappointed in divisiveness in general, so when it appears in literature--the place I go to take a break from the negativity--it feels draining. Also reading Life-giving Leadership by Julia Mateer, finishing up Holy Hygge by Jamie Erickson, and when I remember, I read aloud a poem from A Poem for Every Autumn Day edited by Allie Esiri.

Around the house, a new year focus to tidy spaces and purge some places. A focus on family, home spaces/hospitality, health, and community. I had a glove missing its mate--it sat months in the mud room. I may have disposed of it by now, I don't know. And then when I pulled out winter coats recently, I found its lone partner in a coat pocket. Ugh.

On the letterboard: give thanks in all circumstances. I couldn't fit the rest on the board--for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.

I value beauty--in a story, in music, in nature. Beauty in order, simplicity, endurance and strength. Marshall's Mom printed out vinyl for me; I requested a quote from Proverbs 31 to put on my goal book for next year: clothed with strength and dignity. Such a beautiful image. I want to think on this as I prepare for a new season--especially after hearing about so many women being attacked while they run. And people ask questions blaming the woman: about running alone, about the time of day, about what she was wearing. Ugh. How about asking about the type of guy who planned his day around harming another person? The issue shouldn't be a woman exercising. It should be about a man on a mission to harm. Sisters, may we all be clothed with strength and dignity--worthy of respect by the simple fact that we all are made in the image of God. (And men, level up. Stop making a woman accountable for your love of lust and your lack of restraint.)

A view of my favorite things

(Not pictured, a fun outing with Erin; the collage of race photos and the team announcement; pictures Lanie sent me from her chemistry class. Those are definitely some of my favorite things in November, but these are the public cut:)

Thank you, Marshall's Mom!

December mood

The visiting poet at the mall

Fa-la-la and all the Christmas feels. November who?

Stranger Things fan. And 80s nostalgia gets me all the time.

November mood

 

At the table, it's rare when the four of us are together for a meal. I think about tables. The former kitchen table painted black where I write. The cafeteria table at co-op where I claimed a seat to work. The current kitchen table that was once Joel's, and how most evenings it's just Shane and me looking across at one another. In a few weeks, I've been invited to another table, to celebrate a year with fellow teammates, and this is new to me. Thank you, God, for these things.

And still counting ... (17,252-17,300)

placing fifth in my age group, warm clothes, a medal the size of my palm, the team shirt

hot tea on a chilly afternoon, a last-minute cancellation that allowed me to stay and enjoy the rest of the race, hot showers, clean dishes, chickens

school on the comfy couch, the swim-bike-run hoodie, writing on 66 Books, taking the chance for 2023, plans

lunch with Anita, her hugs and kisses, Lanie's 20th, heat in the house, cleaned wood stoves, 

long runs, the sweatshirt project with Erin, "I Wanna Dance with Somebody" acoustic version on the salon's playlist, a hound that learned to dance again, her ten years with us

her nap in a sunny spot, lots of memories of our dog, friends who loved her too, an inky paw print framed, Nella

pacing with other runners that feels like belonging, gym mornings, cadence tracks, that he was cool with me getting the music subscription, that he comes to my races to wait for me at the finish line

running through the leaves, cool weather, a chat with Marshall's Mom, a chat with Nora, plans with Nora for a next year's race together

the "yes" for the 2023 team, the 2023 goal planner and the thought-provoking prompts, Dave on 66 Books, the scoop on forgiveness, dry leaves to rake 

this time of year, November, holiday plans, horchata protein powder mix, the planksgiving challenge

 

Lasts

So many times I've pondered lasts. Always with a sense of ache and longing. Wishing I had known when the last carousel ride would be, so I'd be prepared and present to fully savor the moment. The last time I'd carry my child or pick out an outfit for her. The last time we'd all spend an occasion together. So many of those lasts passed by without notice of the full weight we'd never pass that way again. 

But last week, I was fully aware of lasts. Only partially aware of the last dog cookie we'd buy for Nella in September, last week was a definite. A date marching toward us. And when I looked out the kitchen window, the view of an old hound in the sun, a knowing it was a last, and a fullness of presence in the grief of it. It was too much. The burdening weight of last. It's crushing.

The sound of her food nuggets clattering into her dish one last time that morning, like a million swords stabbing. The burgers we'd cooked in her honor on the grill the night before, I took one out to feed to her--and she gobbled it down, so excited for this treat. Watching last selfies with her and Erin, or Shane bending low to stroke her head. How her nose raised to sniff the autumn breeze, the sun shining down on her, the bed of leaves beneath her in a sunny patch--her favorite spot on the hill. Shane's awareness and notice aloud that it would be the last time she would be in the driveway when he got home from work. I removed all the barriers I'd erected to our side garden because Nella had always tried to bed down among the tomato and cucumber plants, often snacking on anything that dared to form. The last dance, a surprising spryness. Oh, and the acoustic and unexpected version of "I Wanna Dance with Somebody" playing at the hair salon that sent Erin and me to tears, one of Nella's songs (the other is "One Thing Remains" by Jesus Culture).  

A day after, and I transferred the food from her container into Ruth's. I took her bowl and put it through the dishwasher to be put away. I set aside her collar. We have inky footprint cards, one to frame for Erin, one for the school room, one for the family yearbook memories. A queasiness hits when Ruth starts her crazed barking at the back door, her regular routine of notifying us that Nella was there and ready to come back in--this time to yell at the squirrels for being on the patio. Or the sound of Ruth drinking from the watering hole--because Nella was always at the watering hole, like a camel preparing for a long journey. Even Ruth walking across the wood floors, her nails clacking, makes me raise my head out of habit to look toward Nella. A bright leaf blows past the window, and I look over from years of expectation that Nella's face will be bright in the window, looking in. Sometimes I think I hear the familiar pawing scratch at the living room door ... 

I drove to the gym yesterday, remembering that the last time I went there my dog was still alive, remembering how everything in me ached with grief held back. Everyone who's ever met Nella had only one thought about her--how sweet she was. Friendly. Gentle. (We sort of chuckled last night as we discussed this at the table, how it's highly unlikely that any of our friends would remember Ruth as sweet, because she is full-on fierce if anyone approaches our door.) 

Anyway, just some thoughts on the awareness of lasts and how sometimes the awareness of a last is more painful that if you didn't know it was coming. Either way, some lasts just hurt regardless.

Good dog

David told me hounds are heartbreakers. They are always up for adventure. And while they love you, they love adventure more. They can't help it. Their noses take them places. 

I lost count how many times Nella's curiosity drew her into the woods. How many times I heard that quiet dog's baying as she ran through the trees along the stream. But I will not forget this last time she left, Friday, and our hearts, broken.

Shane agreed to a dog as long as it was quiet, and Nella was listed in the rescue line-up to be "quiet as a church mouse." And she was. She never barked (not until Ruth came along). In fact, she was a silent presence in our house--always near, but quiet. The day we drove out to meet her, she showed us she came from trauma. The fosters tried to get her to run and play, but she was fearful. As we walked past our car to get ready to leave, Nella stopped and sat by our car. We hadn't yet decided we would take her, but her mind was made up. She was coming with us. (When we brought her home, she ran off the first time within three days. She didn't know us, our home, or even her name.)

The fosters give all dogs a new name, so we have no real idea what Nella was called originally. We only know that she lived in an apartment, had had puppies at some point relatively recently, and was rail thin. The fosters had a naming process that focused on an alphabet letter each month. Nella was really Penelope. I was going to call her Nellie. But the foster said they'd nicknamed her Nella, so we kept it. 

Erin was in kindergarten when we got Nella, putting Lanie at fourth grade. And now each daughter a sophomore in high school and college, we said goodbye to our girl. 

I'm thankful for a dog--for Nella. That she was ours. And we were hers.Thankful she learned to dance again under our roof. Thankful she looked forward to things like Saturday bone day, chicken meatballs and jerky--and people. She may have been the most social of all of us, always friendly and ready to greet our friends and guests. She was a cucumber and tomato stealing thief in the summer. A hound that preferred outside spaces all year round, or else curled up on a soft bed by the fire. 

They thought perhaps she was 3-5 years old when we got her, so we don't know for sure how old she is. But we've had her ten years, celebrating her (almost) yearly with a cookie from the pet store on September 27. Two years ago, we noticed a change in her movements, enough to flag concern. I truly didn't think she'd make this long, but she did. Shane and I often joked she'd outlive us all. That she'd be around for the zombie apocalypse. She was determined to hold her post. But her decline was becoming too much.

Wednesday I looked out the kitchen window to see her asleep in a blanket of leaves, warmed by the sun. My goal book's superlatives at year's end prompts the best and most beautiful aspects of the year. For most beautiful sight, I couldn't think what would stand out this year--the sunrise view over the ocean from our beach trip, the finish line of a race? No. It was this: a hound dog asleep in the sun, in her yard, at home. Welcome. Safe. Loved. Included. 

I marveled how this view could hold so much beauty, tenderness and love, and yet become the source of splitting heartbreak and pain. Ahh, grief. It steals my breath.

In the course of a day, from three very different sources (an email devotional, an ad, and a page out of The Lifegiving Home), I came across this Scripture from Numbers:

‘May the LORD bless you and protect you. May the LORD smile on you and be gracious to you. May the LORD show you his favor and give you his peace.’ Numbers 6:24-26, NLT

As I thanked Nella for her life and love toward us, I read her this Scripture, not sure if was meant for her or me, so we shared it together. Our home and hearts will never be the same. 

Nella 

20(09)-2022. 

Day story

 October 2022

Outside my window the leaves are changing colors. There's a warm rain falling (I just ran three miles in it--delightful!), and there's such a lovely feel to the world. The only thing I love more than a rainy October day that reminds me of November is a rainy November day. Oh, October, you are the Gatsby of the calendar--extravagant, wasteful, pandering to the parasites who suck off your glory and generosity. The L.M. Montgomery quotes ... gag. I. Just. Can't. In fact, Anne of Green Gables, you have ruined October for me, you and all your simping, October quoting, exhaustively unoriginal fans. 

And I quote, definitely NOT from L.M. Montgomery, 

"I'm gonna die someday. Just not today. I still got a date to make, remember?" Jim Hopper (S4, Ep 9, Chapter Nine, The Piggyback, Stranger Things)

Giving thanks that a year ago, I took what felt like the biggest chance, and may, in fact, have been a real, bona fide, very big chance. For feeling so under-qualified. For doing it anyway. Because nothing ventured, nothing gained. 

Recently I mused to Marshall's Mom, "Maybe I should stop underestimating myself." 

And she replied, "Maybe we all need to take a page from that book." 

These past twelve months have really caused me to lean into possibility and hope. I'm so thankful for my team, for all it's been and all it's shaped me to be. 

In the school room, today, a tidied and just-cleaned fire stove and chimney. We are ready for fall, officially. Wood is stacked. And now, we have pretty color pine cones to watch--thank you, MM. Always thoughtful, always timely. 

From the kitchen, smoothies and almond flour scones. I have a basket full of the latest teas, and I'm ready to break in the cutest teapot for one (or two who savor over gulping). Also, I am in love with The Real Food Table by The Real Food Dieticians (with 100 easy and delicious mostly gluten-free, grain free, and dairy free recipes--although, we cook with dairy instead of the substitutes listed). I kid you not, with the exception of the beef and broccoli recipe (just meh), I have loved every single thing I've made. Last night, we had the "Sheet Pan Mini Meat Loaf Dinner" from page 139. Seriously, how can meatloaf be so good?! Stares off in fond remembrance ... 

I am clothed with strength and dignity. 

I don't want to forget fan fiction audiobooks with Erin; the sewing project we both thought was out of my reach--but wasn't; a running pr; wearing the swim-bike-run shirt and gearing up for new goals; a hound dog, ours since 2012; the multi-fold meaning of changing seasons; Jesus is near.

I am reading Resilient by John Eldredge. Also, A Poem for Every Autumn Day edited by Allie Esiri and about to start Ready Player Two by Ernest Cline.

Around the house, I'm in love. Every window holds a woodland view, and it's only going to get better. I love all the seasons here. This is home. Home. Thank you, God, for bringing us here.

On the letterboard: happy (soon to change to "happy birthday" in celebration of Lanie's 20th)

I value beauty. In the heart, in holding on, in letting go.

A view of my favorite things

Placed 5th in my age group--I'll take it!

I love this team!

 

Rang in 53 with half marathon no 3

This. Rocks me in nearly every aspect of my life.

I deconstructed, dyed and reassembled this sweatshirt for Erin for a school spirit day (dress up as a favorite character, still in progress--have to add embellishment)

Not a huge fan of the covers, but what's inside is gold. Coming for you, 2023.

 

At the table, all of us, and cake. To celebrate Lanie this weekend. Wow. Twenty. I loved it all. Being a wife and mom: best job ever.

And still counting (17,187-17,251)

a book on resilience, soft beds for the dogs, good sleep, a French fry slicer

a friend who sent me her manuscript to edit, laughter with Candice, tea tins in the mail, homeschooling, autumn

good aches the day after a strength training workout, purple running shoes, a Sunday coffee with Michi before she leaves, hugs goodbye, three races scheduled in October

66 Books, a tidy school room, piano practice with Erin, a next-year planner, a really good start to the school year

gigs for Erin to earn some money, a successful bumblefoot procedure, "cumits" and laughs during math, a neighbor's daughter who wanted to show us the costume she made, the glorious drop in temperature

how bold the wind sounded moving through the leaves, drizzle, long sleeves, fall hair coloring, her tiny pajamas saved, vegetables

the white sweatshirt to deconstruct for Erin, a battery for the fob, soft blankets, a headlamp for running, texts with Anita

texts with Michi, the math curriculum we switched to, seasonal poetry books, a warm and comfy pair of slippers on sale and delivered, heat

a gorgeous day to meet a gorgeous friend, warm mugs in hand, flourless chocolate cake for two, real friendship, hugs

a sleep through the night, running into Tina D at Aldi, a visit from Sandy on my birthday, a super fun day to play with Shane and Erin, fighting zombies in VR

a half marathon through beautiful farmlands, finishing, fleecy warm and dry clothes to change into, slippers on my feet post race, long naps for recovery

a renewed focus to get serious about training, a race shirt for a pajama top, real heat in morning, residual soreness on a Monday to remind me of the work I did on Saturday, a visit from Kellie

fan fiction audiobook listening with Erin, seeing her artwork, a really good honey/garlic chicken recipe, running shoes, water resistant running hats 

Medal Mondays

 

And still counting ... (17,088-17,186)

breath billowing on cool September morning air, how the chill pricks my skin, stars in the sky on a clear morning canvas

closed doors that make me laugh with delight and gratitude, morning coffee, Dave's offer to write again on 66 Books next year, the writers on 66 Books, morning quiet time

sticky tabs for notebooks, a planner, sharpened pencils, a focus on fall and home rhythms, a good day of weeding, Lucy Gray (my favorite chicken) helping me and chatting me along the path

a swim cap for big hair, nose plugs, ear plugs, delight in swimming, bigger dreams

the creative energy and imagination of a four, positive people, books in the mail, organized bookshelves in the school room, a picture of us on a roller coaster from 2009

making plans with friends, broccoli salad, geese in v formation in September morning skies, chickens free ranging, all that dirt moved

stickers for a school year, a holiday weekend together, Denise at the table, Sharon's yes, good books

clean sheets, long-sleeve shirts, denim jackets, running, green smoothies

living the dream, ability to move 6 yards of dirt alone, the garden potager--an old dream now come true, rosemary, a frisbee for Ruth

lost things found in the recycle (thank you!), creamer for my coffee, sage, thyme, oatmeal raisin cookies

string lights on secured hooks, vet tape, a clean driveway, a cucumber that Nella didn't find and we got to eat, her math friend

the laundry room (tidied!), clothes to donate, couch cuddles with Erin, early mornings with Lanie, washed and folded blankets

first days at home schooling, open windows, chicken tortilla soup with lime, a good workload, cinnamon rolls for breakfast

super cool morning to run, Emet at the race cheering me at the finish line, an awesome team, a rainy day race, Grant's reaction when the medal was metal

cuddles with my high schooler, super early bedtimes for me, fully charged body battery, Nora's "let's chat" message, races in queue

Dave on 66 Books, actually--all the writers are blessings and friends, a new school year momentum, optimism, Stranger Things nostalgia

farm fresh eggs, a book stack from the library, index cards and a holder, a lanyard and a name tag at co-op, the sound of wind through the leaves this time of year

a soft cardigan on a chilly day, "window" shopping with Erin, steam punk goggles, a chocolate milkshake, the feeling of finishing a 9-mile long run

the friendly women at the fabric store, ice water, an order of winter favorite teas (and some new ones to try!), a 50-degree morning under stars, a date scheduled with Michi

friends on a Friday, the loveliest ever first week of homeschool, a last dip in the pool with Erin--so cold and so fun!, chicken tortilla soup, the soft and stretchy running bras from Born Primitive

peanut butter on gf matzoh

Day story

 September 2022

Outside my window, a clear view of the stars in the sky. I am so thankful for my vision. Who knew that a cataracts diagnosis would bring so much wonderful change into my life? It was absolutely delightful to stand barefoot on the cold ground this morning, watching my breath billow out in front of me, hearing the September crickets playing away, gazing up at the stars. On my wish list, I still want to go somewhere where I can really see the stars spread out full and thick across the sky, just like I've seen in pictures. But for now, I'm happy to see Orion standing watch.

And I quote,

“And now, a million years later, as you get up every second day just to do another three miles around the housing development, heaving and breathing and trying to distract yourself with a new podcast, you are actually becoming, in tiny increments, the thing you were meant to be. The soft fat stored from a modern diet of processed industrial compounds starts to dissolve and drop away; your unused muscles in your legs start to tighten and firm; your lungs fill and empty and fill and become elastic and clear. Your heart, that small beating thing, strains to meet the stress and finds that it can. You can feel it growing in your chest cavity, like the Grinch’s.

It’s like one of those modern vampire or zombie movies, where some strange compound transforms the human body into something else, something much stronger, something much more dangerous than the weak and pasty suburbanites who become its prey. Instead of the Walking Dead, we are the Running Living. The urge to transform can come from within, from a sense of either loss or surfeit in your life. I have known people who ran because they felt there was something missing, and they thought if they could pick up some speed they might find it. I have also known people who’ve found themselves like Marley’s ghost, with chains of stress and responsibility and unwanted pounds, who began to run in the hope that all or some of it would shake off from the jostling.

Heraclitus said, ‘What does not change is the will to change,’ and thus our motivations are inexhaustible as we propel ourselves doggedly down the dawn streets. We are fueled by Gatorade and dissatisfaction.” The Incomplete Book of Running, by Peter Sagal, emphasis added

Giving thanks for a new dream, a bigger dream. I outfitted myself with swim accessories and took to the water. How I wish I had started sooner, but all in its time. I have enjoyed swimming, counting the breaths, the pounding of my heart. And when I'm done, effortless and endless floating on my back. It's never been any work for me to float, and there's something so peaceful in staring up at a blue sky, being rocked gently by the movement of the water supporting me. Quiet. Peaceful. Held.

In the school room, yahoo! I love school! I love homeschool! I love organized and dusted bookshelves, planners penciled in, colorful sticky tabs holding places. I love creating a cozy space. I love how the wood stove whispers and I can smell the hints of a yesterday's smoke on its breath. Soon. Soon. Thank you, God, for a home with a wood stove in the school room space. Thank you for a big comfy couch for reading out loud and long talks. Thank you for a kitchen table painted and repurposed for computers and studies and holding all the things. Thank you for a piano and other instruments in the room, a haven of beauty and creativity and joy. Help me to invest time wisely this year.

From the kitchen, lots of baked goods. A recent request for pumpkin bread with chocolate chips (always!) for Lanie's latest back to school. In a cleaning effort of bookshelves, I found a long lost cookbook using almond flour--and now almond scones will be making a sooner appearance.

I am laughing. (Oh, that I ever cried!) In my clean-up of the school room, I found some forgotten papers from forever ago when I did a book study of Recovering from Losses in Life. As I read over the pages with fresh insight, I pitied the person I was who not only grieved the things, but still wanted a way for those things to work and be made whole. I'm glad I found those pages, because within a day or two, God showed me what he saved me from. And I laughed. God is so good. I am so grateful. Some ends are hard, but I'm really going to trust his closed doors. No time for crying. God is good.

I don't want to forget the feel of the cooling air. The joy of a full table. The fullness of a good meal. The warmth of my children's hugs. The comfort of cuddling my man. The loyalty of my dog. The chatter of a favorite chicken. The gratitude for long-time friends. The satisfying ache of endurance. The turn of my stomach in excitement for new adventures. The hope of a plan. The delight in the planning. The wonder of this moment. This rhythm of life.

I am reading The Lifegiving Parent by Clay and Sally Clarkson. I have a stack of other books too, but anticipating the delivery of Holy Hygge in the next week. Also in queue is The Lifegiving Table by Sally Clarkson.

Around the house, a dirt delivery today for the raised beds. I'll be shoveling as soon as it gets here. So excited!

I value wisdom. A favorite quote from the Bible: Say to wisdom, “You are my sister,” and call insight your intimate friend ... Proverbs 7:4, ESV.

A view of my favorite things

a little treasure from 2009

Her first day sophomore year

humidity run

love

Some people are not your people

half marathon registration--number 3 for 2022

September mood

 

At the table, Denise is joining us this weekend, and I am glad. Holiday weekend. Homeschool starting soon. Grateful for family and friends. Sharon, Autumn, Kellie, and Marshall's Mom in queue too!

Living the dream

At a recent race, I got into a conversation with a fellow teammate about swimming (this after wishing aloud there was a "run-bike-run" shirt for those of us who don't swim--they had "born to run", and "swim-bike-run" shirts). I told him I couldn't swim very well to consider triathlons. 

He told me what he's learned since becoming a triathlete: that guys, mostly, tend to want to go out hard into the race, but that swimming is a graceful act. If you go hard in swimming, it can work against you.

I remembered his words as I tried again to swim across the pool. Previous attempts left me flailing and gasping for air (I was holding my breath and then taking big gulps of air--not recommended). I purchased nose clips (mostly for mental assurance because of my fear to put my face in the water without holding my nose--even as a full-fledged adult, I can't seem to talk myself out of that). I got a pair of goggles. I got into the water and decided to strive for graceful. I slowed down my movements. I remembered to breathe out slowly and count my arm strokes to time the next inhale. I went from four to six to eight to twelve to fourteen strokes before taking a breath--not at all gasping or panicked. 

I am so thankful for a big brother in this teammate (not that he's older, but by experience) to tell me how to prepare for the road ahead. When I put on my dream list to do a triathlon, it was just another one of my dreams. But now, a possibility. 

It is so good to be surrounded by people who have done more and dream big, who generously and selflessly reach out to help another through encouragement and advice. This year has been such an unexpected gift--to be among so many focused, positive, accepting peers. 

Next year's goal, to compete in one of these:

Sprint Distance - 400 Yard Pool Swim | 10 Mile Bike | 3 Mile Run

​Super Sprint Distance - 200 Yard Pool Swim | 5 Mile Bike | 1.75 Mile Run

I remember when my goal was to just run one mile that first year, and when I achieved that, I thought, "Is that all there is?" It left me feeling fulfilled and unfulfilled at the same time. When I asked myself after running three miles how I could level up, I decided to sign up for a 5k (at the start of the unbeknownst year of lockdowns--which, when races were cancelled I decided to level up to five miles). 

Who knows? Maybe one day I'll look back and fondly remember this milestone as a baby step towards another goal. 

And from a once 5k-dream to finishing off this year with two 1/2 marathons (for a total of four), two 5ks (for a total of three), a 10k (for a total of three, plus a duathlon this year), and a 5-mile trail run.

God, thank you for these opportunities. Thank you for giving me a love of running and endurance. Thank you for brothers and sisters in spirit and heart. Thank you for giving me the courage to dream a little bigger and not shrink back.

And still counting ... (16,999-17,087)

 August, an 11-year anniversary

the difference here makes, a home where we raised our kids, lush green in the green season, warm and cozy fires in the brown season, friends at the table

big blue in the back yard, chickens, garden beds, a mulched garden, a wine fridge, summer nights

running shoes, books in the mail, books from the library, dates on the calendar to spend with friends, end-of-summer adventures

Shane, Erin, Lanie, memories of Linda, Denise

Marshall's Mom, Miss Kate (who turned 101), bunnies in the yard, cool mornings, fall races in queue

flowers along the house, flowers in a vase, fresh coats of pain in the rooms, bushes trimmed, caring neighbors

flowers in the flower boxes, the running community, school supplies, a veggie tray with Michi, friendship

words from earlier this year to remind me about value, Ruth, remembering David, Anita, good sleep

face-to-face with a hummingbird, clean windows, intangible wealth, a walk back from the auto shop and a neighbor's text on the journey--being seen and known, hugs with my man 

the first mile in a new pair of running shoes, the guy in South Africa who called them snazzy, a team pullover, the sound of cricket song into early morning hours, new equipment at the gym

a treadmill run under the big fan, errands with Erin, freshly mowed grass, sweet and juicy cantaloupe, s'mores

a swim cap for big hair, nose plugs, the way the pool looks from under water, new muscles getting worked, a step closer to a next milestone

these summer weeks with my kids, a chat with Marshall's Mom that always puts things in perspective, good books to read to refocus my intentions, blossoms on vegetable plants, summer weekends

that Jenne has deep insight, coffee in the morning, cookbooks to read, an end-of-summer sleepover, back-to-school supplies

the woman at the gym who asked me how my run was, a pair of bike shorts, the writers on 66 Books, a book cover (a table setting) that called my heart, a book on holy hygge

milkshakes for the girls, a rosemary plant half price, the hint of wood smoke smells from the fireplace, the tickets to the November woods walk, chilly temperatures

an afternoon walk and talk long distance with Nora, back-to-school shopping with Erin, a Neapolitan colored sweater we both loved, a nurse neighbor for a mandolin mishap, curriculum in the mail

an evening of school planning and prep, coffee with cream and sugar