happy healing...

"Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and screaming,  

"WOO HOO, what a ride!""

Now you get to read aaaaall about my second marathon

I decided, this year, to follow wise advice.

In the first 6 miles I passed NO ONE.  (This doesn't count anyone walking.)  It drove me crazy.  Excitement was high and I just wanted to bust free of the crowd with impressive speed and swan-like grace.  ...That's right.  -I told myself, Lindsay, save it for the last 6 miles.  Save it.

I walked through the water stations.  Just about 30 feet every 2-3 miles.  I took long steps and stretched and drank and pottied occasionally.  (To the gal who took for.e.ver. in the bathroom- you owe me 4 minutes.)

I enjoyed it.  (Much easier this year with the temperature in the upper 50's.  Last year it reached a stupid 84 degrees.)  I took time to wave and smile and thank the volunteers.  I cheered and applauded the local high-school band, playing under the bridge.  I chatted a bit with fellow runners.  I leaped and flailed when I saw my mom waiting at the turnaround.  I made a couple phone calls to share my good time.  I even savored the 2 hours of drizzle.  (Hey, it wasn't downpour!  And waaaaay better than heat.)

In the last 6 miles I passed EVERYONE.  Well, not everyone but by mile 20 I decided it was time to see what I got.  One runner at a time, I would focus on the person ahead of me and steadily pass them.  Thanks to holding back in the beginning I had a nice reserve of spunky energy and I should have kept track of how many I passed.  It was lots.   

But that's not what it's about, is it?

Last year I finished in 5 hours and 2 minutes.

This year....

..

...

(drum roll)

....

.....

4:21!!!!!


So I'm feeling stiff and stupendous today!  I have a strong, healthy body that let's me do cool things.  I have two COOLER THAN WHIP friends who worried that they wouldn't even finish.  Man, did they ever!  No prob!!  I have a magnificent mom who, while at my beckon call with cheers, snacks, pain killers and ice-cream, also ran out to join me for the last few miles.

I am blessed.

And tired.

g'night friends!

"Hey millionaires!  If you don't have trampoline floors and a giant slide that goes from your bed to a pool, then give me your money.  You're wasting it..."

-unknown

mother to mother (part 2 of the previous post)

Brenda struggled in church today.

Not with religion- I think she's good with God.  But with patience to sit  -just sit down and be calm.

We've been smart lately to dress her with leggings under her dress because one coping mechanism for her is to sit with legs in the air and head squished back in avoidance.  (She doesn't care if that means her bare legs and underwear are out for all to enjoy.)   I could tell the day would be a rough one when in the first few minutes those legs were up and her hair was beyond repair...

I had brought her into my class for a while to give her teachers a break.  She cried and yelped and refused to maintain any sort of composure.  Under my breath I was threatening all sorts of horrific results-

No trip to Grandma 'n Grandpa's house.  Legos are going in the garbage.  I'll make you watch Suzie eat all the popsicles...  

Oh she tried.  She took long breaths and stared off in the distance.  But one word or movement would throw her to the floor with an anxious shriek.

We walked and talked and she was eventually able to rejoin her class.  She was surprisingly tolerable the rest of the time, holding her water bottle and destroying the paper label.  Her teachers ask me what to do with her rollercoastering and I just give them a blank stare.  It's embarrassing to be the mother and all I got is a shoulder shrug...

After church a sweet lady approached me, after witnessing some of the commotion, and complimented my calmness and control.  I thanked her but had to laugh when I said "Oh, if  you only could hear the thoughts in my head!".

As parents of  ________  kids (Fill in the blank with handicapped, normal, tall, short, freckled, breathing, ...whatever) lets all just admit that we really don't know what we're doing.  (It can't be just me!)  That everyday we're just hoping that nobody figures out that we really don't know what we're doing.  But if we ALL just let it out, at the same time...

Here we go-

I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING!!!  
.
.
.
It's much less embarrassing when you're not standing alone (undressed) like in those dreams...

Now if you joined me in our most revealing proclamation then you're probably like me, sitting back with a smile.  -relieved in the equally-confused companionship.  This isn't a moment of frustration and weakness.  It's a moment of surrendering to reality.  A moment to laugh and cry over milk and cookies.  We can bond over the little daily triumphs that come unexpectedly between diapers and spilled juice.  We are re-enthused to take the lessons learned today and do better tomorrow.

We can RELAX.

If you didn't co-proclaim then you might be worried about me and my parenting.  ...And you must know what you're doing. 

Welcome to planet Earth, could you watch my kids while I nap?

Some days...

...Know what I mean?

Reason #458 why my brother will make a super-duper husband-

After hours and hours of dragging the two of them around Portland, making them pose and smile and sit and stand and walk and pose and smile some more...

He's still dancing.

Don't worry.  I'll show off the real pics soon enough...