Mixed Bag Of Rant

I have been absent from my blog this week for a couple reasons:

1. My workload is unbearable. I eat, sleep and breathe the current project I am on.

2. I needed some time to reflect.

I watched in jealousy as many friends and social buddies I have come to know qualified and trained for the Boston Marathon. I’m not sure I will ever be able to run a full marathon and very much look up to those who  do. I know it is the pinnacle of their running goals. The finish to a long, hard training journey.

As soon as I heard about the bombings at the Boston Marathon my heart was racing and I had a sick feeling in my tummy. Are my friends okay? Who would dare ruin an event that is only positive in every single way? Why? Why? Why?

Why the 8 year old little boy simply cheering on the runners, waiting for his daddy to cross the line? WHY?

Why did ANYONE have to suffer?

I have no answers. Only questions. Only hurt in my heart. Anger. Confusion.

The only solution I have for myself to be able to find any salvation in this horrific tragedy is prayer.

Prayer and my enormous resolve and duty as a runner to KEEP ON RUNNING.

I will run for those who cannot run anymore. I will continue to run in huge events to prove that I am not afraid of some coward who felt the need to blow up innocent people and children. The last two years that I have been running have been for me, but I feel like it isn’t only about me anymore. I am so immensely proud to call myself a part of the running community in this world. It is the most positive thing I have ever been a part of in my life and I refuse to let anyone take that away from me.

Next Saturday, April 27 marks the “true” start to my running season (although MN weather seems to have a different idea in mind. Snow? In April? Really?). As my running crew (official name is still TBD) heads out to the Get In Gear 5K, we are going to be fired up. On a mission. We won’t be running this just for ourselves or for our crew.

We are running for Boston.

I wish I could have gotten one of these t-shirts in time, because I would have definitely been wearing it next Saturday, but they are out of stock (which is actually pretty awesome):

I’m sure we will try to put together a way to show our support.

Our mission: Just. Keep. Running.

What is running to me? Pride. Joy. Satisfaction. Accomplishment. You can’t take that from me.
Notice, I am smiling in every single picture.

My #runforboston on Tuesday, April 16

Crossing the finish at the Get Lucky 7K

Me with 2 of the ladies from my running crew.

My dearest friend and running buddy.

Me & Kathy at the October 2012 Monster Dash 5K

Earth Day 5K 2012- I beat my goal time by an entire minute.

Me & My Girl Angie- Earth Day 5K Finish- April 2012

My first ever 5K- Race for Obesity.

My first race that started it all

Wishing you and the world all of the peace, love and joy I hold in my heart.

The other day as I was heading home from work, I boarded my elevator on the 20th floor. The one thing I always forget to factor into my commute time is the time it takes to ride the elevator to the ground floor. Most days, it is a stop on just about every floor. Packed like sardines. I typically end up next to the person with the horrifically debilitating head cold. I have to factor at least an additional 10 minutes in order to make my 4:11p bus home.

To my amazement, two elevators showed up on our floor at the same time so the 5 of us got to choose which one to ride in. Both elevators got the express ride to the 1st floor with no stops. The guy I rode my elevator with said, “It’s the little things we should always get excited about, right?”

He is SO right.

Then today, I read this. Which led me to this. Then to this. Basically an amazing network of fantastic, strong women vowing to take control of their lives. One of these women in the midst of struggles with her health journey died of heart failure before she turned 30. My heart, oh my heart. So much more proof that all my stumbles along my healthiness journey are worth it. For me. For my family.

I have made it pretty clear that I have had emotional struggles lately. Reading the above posts really puts things back into perspective. It’s time to stop dwelling and start living. Time to stop taking for granted the people and things in my life that I have accomplished.

The Things
I have been so focused over the last month over a few measly pounds. Have I thought for even a second to consider how far I have come? 4.5 years ago when I gave birth to my son, I was topping the scale at 240. I am now 160. How could I not be proud of that? HOW? HOW? HOW? I can call myself an athlete. A runner. I am fit. Healthy. Strong. I am sooooooooooo hard on myself. That needs to stop.

My job. I feel like my corporate pursuits are an endless game of trying to make it to the next rung. The title. Manager. VP. Or whatever I have noodled into my brain what I think I need out of my career. I may not be at the top of the heap, but I have clawed my way enough around the middle to have garnered respect and appreciation from my superiors and colleagues. I am finally in a happy place with my (not so) new job. I’m not even hating the Downtown Mpls life as much anymore. The important word here is balance. I finally found balance in my professional world.

The People
If there is one thing reading those blog posts above reminded me, it is that we should not take the people who matter the most in our lives for granted. You never know when you have to say goodbye. Do you ever want to feel like there were things left unsaid? I know I wouldn’t want that. So I’m making the effort not to let whatever this weird funk that has taken over me (probably just PMS anyway. LOL) take over the happiness that my friends and family give to me every single day.

I mentioned in a previous post that my husband and I have a new renewal in our marriage. For years, we were just floating through the motions. Pretending like we’re all good and that nothing could break us. Now that we have clarity, there hasn’t been a day that has gone by in the last few weeks that we have gone to bed angry- there is always a goodnight kiss and an “I love you.” Since I have to leave early in the morning, I usually left before either my husband or son were awake. I’d sneak out. Not wanting to stir or wake anyone. Little did I know, they were waking up mere minutes after I would walk out the door. So even if it means waking my husband up, I always give him a kiss on the cheek goodbye and remind him that I love him. My child gets to sleep in though. I wouldn’t do THAT to my husband. But I always blow a kiss goodbye towards Jackson’s room. He doesn’t know I do that. Maybe someday I will tell him. I also want my son to know that despite my sadness over my secondary infertility, that HE IS ENOUGH and I would go to the ends of the earth for him. I am so lucky to have him. He is my miracle.

My sweet boy who still cuddles with his mama.

I love watching him play and love his imagination.

I love my guys!

The Little Things. 
I have always loved the Easter season. So much self-reflection, forgiveness and renewal. I feel so moved this year. Different. I intend to make the best out of every single day and every moment. As part of my Christian holiday traditions, my best friend has invited me once again to sing with her band for her church’s contemporary Easter service. She of course gave me the best song for my solo (and when I say “best”, I mean I have no idea how I’m going to sing it without crying). My husband will be recording, so I will be sure and post my version this Easter Sunday.

If you have Spotify, you can listen here:
http://open.spotify.com/track/7j1e730A8K1my1mM4knYmr

“I Will Rise” by Chris Tomlin

I am wishing all of you blessings and happiness with all of the little things in your life. Count every blessing. Live every day with purpose. Remember, you are enough. Most importantly, tell those you care about how much they mean to you. 

On Friday, as I was in the midst of a busy day, I took a break in the afternoon to check my personal email, Facebook and Twitter. The usual breaktime fodder. I noticed pictures of candles and prayers consuming my Facebook feed and then saw the headlines from Connecticut that brought me to my knees. A shooting in an elementary school? How? Why? WHY?

Tears sprung to my eyes and my heart felt heavy. I felt sick.

As a mother, I could not even begin to comprehend such unspeakable tragedy. I could not find words as there were none that would suffice.

As I looked within my social media outlets to find more information, I was troubled by what I saw. Troubled that it has to turn into politics. Troubled that anyone for one second had to turn it into a platform other than what should just be about prayers for the families, peace and love. While there is a time to try to find some understanding and a way to stop something so incomprehensible from happening again, Friday was not that day.

I also saw a Tweet that said: “Hugging our children won’t change anything.”

Really?

Perhaps by teaching love and peace to my little boy, he will turn around and teach it to others. It may not make a difference today or tomorrow, but maybe, just maybe, sometime down the road he will remember that his mama taught him how to love and bring peace to others.

On Friday, my office closed early for the day and instead of rushing off to do errands, I drove immediately to my son’s school to pick him up. I just wanted to see him. Hug him. Be with him. He was so excited that I came to get him early- he was still on the playground for recess. He came running up to me and asked, “Mommy, why did you come and get me so early today?” The only response I could give my 4 year old was, “I love you and missed you all day. Let’s go home. Pizza tonight?” To which he responded in all his innocence, “Okay, mommy. I love pizza party!” That was all he needed to know.

We got home. I made pizza. I sobbed over what I was seeing and hearing, my son all the while oblivious to the horror that took place 1,200 miles away. We then turned the TV off altogether and just spent time with each other. That night, while putting my son to bed, instead of trying to rush him to sleep I stayed with him just a little longer. He fell asleep and I stayed in his room, listening to the sound of his tiny, sweet snores thanking God for the miracle that he is and and the pure joy he brings to my life.

My husband came up to look for me in Jack’s room thinking I might have fallen asleep, asking me what I was doing. I said “No, I didn’t fall asleep. Everything is fine. Tonight, I just wanted to be with him.”

 It doesn’t feel fair that these parents don’t have their babies anymore. It doesn’t feel fair that their holiday will be filled with so much sadness. My heart aches for them as I cannot even fathom what they are going through. These babies… just a year or two older than mine. Gone.

I have struggled to write this post. It has actually taken days to find the precise way to put my thoughts into words. However, I don’t think there is any way to make sense of it. We can only learn from it. Hug our kids closer. Teach them and those around us to live with love, peace and forgiveness in our hearts instead of anger and hostility. Recognize and reach out to those who are crying out for help. Take a moment each and every day to thank God for the tiniest of blessings that touch our lives: friends, family, jobs, a roof over my head, food to eat. Live life without fear or regret. Never take a single moment for granted.

While I am sad and grieving in my heart for these children, teachers and families- I am also choosing to move forward. I’m choosing joy and will do what I can to spread it to everyone around me.

From my family to yours, we wish you a holiday season filled with only peace and love in your hearts.