A Shining Star

Just a few quick updates before a very hectic weekend.

First, my sister took pictures at the Virginia is For Lovers 14K that I had the chance to upload:

A family affair.

Cupid gave us runners quite a show; and left us in his dust.

Our lil' one was the star of the day.

She gave it her all and collapsed at the end!

So we are about to leave for Obama's current hometown to take Miss Runner Extraordinaire to her next big volleyball tournament. It's a big one... three days of competition and 16 teams from the east coast in her division. Yesterday I was consumed with all of the preparations involved for a three day event like this. I was completely freaking out. Somewhere in my house (or maybe elsewhere for all I know) is a black hole for important garments and items. Where in the world does she put this stuff? Spandex, practice shirts, socks, kneepads... she loses something almost every day. Does she undress on the street and stuff the crap in the garbage? I literally TORE the house APART looking for things. Under beds, behind the dryer, inside every bag she owns... the kid is one big hot mess. Then again, she's only 10 years old.

As I was driving to work yesterday I thought about my daughter so much. How when I look at her I am often looking in a mirror and seeing a reflection of myself at that age. She may look more like her daddy but she is me in almost every other way. Shy, withdrawn, afraid to say what she thinks out loud. So afraid to take the risk of being boisterous and bold. A shrinking violet in a field of screaming daisies.

How much of us is innate and how much is created by the environment around us? I always believed that I had no confidence as a child because of the influences around me. My mother, always well intended I'm sure, constantly reminded me of what I wasn't. I know she couldn't help it; she was raised in such a manner. Hard core, "that is not good enough," "that's not the way I would have done it."

So when I see that look I know so well on my daughter's face I wonder about the influences around her. As hard as I try, I'm sure a little of the mothering skills I observed as a child are seeping in. I have high expectations, but I am sensitive to the fact that we are unique and it's okay.

So when you see your child struggle with her confidence around her peers... how do you intervene? Stand back and let nature take it's course or try to head it off at the pass? The answer seems so simple yet it isn't. The control freak in me wants to fix this right now, but I know better. I can only fix myself and hope in time... that whatever she believes in her mind, she is happy and confident.

Off to watch our little star shine this weekend...

I *Heart* the Past Couple of Days

A few updates...

I smashed my stupid ring finger again. I was patiently waiting for the swelling from the initial trauma to go down so I could get my wedding rings off, but it was a no go. I thought I would just need a little more time. But I must have insanely bad karma because wouldn't you know I would jam the same finger playing volleyball again last Wednesday. I watched as the already swollen tissue bruised and swelled even more right in front of my eyes. I felt that horrible feeling in my stomach that the rings could never come off, and what if they cut off my circulation? And then my whole finger fell off?

I gave it 24 hours of icing and ibuprofen, went to work and got a verbal lashing from my colleagues who demanded I cut those rings off right away! (What was I, stupid???) They called the fire department down the road who told me to get into the car immediately and come down to the station. I walked in and a fireman stood there waiting, a huge serrated knife in hand. Then they all laughed hysterically as they pulled out a fancy thinga-ma-jig specifically designed for ring cutting. It took 10 minutes of sawing but this was the result:

My poor rings! 19 years old and so sad.

My purple swollen finger could breathe again.

I know, I know. The rings can be fixed.  It was just sad, that's all. And it will be a while before I can slip any kind of ring on the finger again. It has to do a lot of healing. Besides, I have two more weeks of league volleyball and my current streak of fortune, I can jam the whole finger yet again or God forbid break it off. Better wait until the fingers get a reprieve.

On Saturday we celebrated my birthday by running the Virginia is For Lovers 14K. I love this race. It's right around the corner from us so we don't have to wake up at the crack of dawn, and it finishes inside the big field house where it's nice and warm and toasty. My Man asked why in the world would they make it a 14K (8.7 miles). Hello, McFly!!! It's Valentines Day!!! As in the 14th of February (or thereabouts)!Months ago I signed up Girl Scientist #1 because the plan was she was going to run the 1.4 miler with her volleyball teammates. But none of the other girls signed up, so my little lady was on her own. But that's okay. She totally ROCKED IT!!! We missed the whole thing waiting at the start of our own race, but my sister watched her come in 13th place out of 321 runners!!!! 4th out of 201 females!!! Her pace was 8:13/mile... so amazing for a kid that weighs less than 70 lbs!!! I sooooooo wish they had age group awards. I know it's only a measly 1.4 miler but she earned a bit o' recognition!

As for the Man and me... I decided that this race I wasn't going to push for any personal records. I was going to hang with the Man and pace him along (because he didn't train practically at all and certainly not for this distance). I was also going to participate in the virtual run for Sherry Arnold, who in case you aren't up to speed with her story... she was a 43 year old mother and math teacher who was heartbreakingly abducted and murdered after she left to go on her morning run in her rural Montana hometown several weeks ago. Runners all over the country and world printed out bibs and wore them on their run to honor a life so sadly (and meaninglessly) stolen from us.

Okay, so I didn't realize: a) how hard it would be to slow my average pace down and be content with it, and b) what a jerk I really am deep down inside. We got going and I kept finding myself surging ahead and looking back to find I'd abandoned the Man and would have to slow down to let him catch up. A couple miles of this and I couldn't help throwing the man a few "Are you kidding me, over a 10 minute mile pace??? Let's GO, dude!!!" while viciously pointing to my Garmin to demonstrate how absolutely frustrated I was. People were flying by us, all around us, and all I could think was: "I am NOT okay with this!!!!"

The Man glared back at me and told me to go away. But oh, no. I told him I'd stay with him. This was a Valentine's Day race, dag-nabbit. We're in this together because we LOVE each other.  So I continued in my ruthless and obnoxious behavior. All in the name of love.

By the time we reached mile 7.5 or so, the Man got crazy frustrated with me. He decided he was going to turn on whatever jet fuel he had and try to leave me in his dust. So he jacked up his pace and tried to abandon me!! But I would be D@#$ed if he would cross that finish line before me after slugging back for 80% of the race!!! So I chased after him. I caught up and got ahead of him with about a quarter mile left. I hung back, grabbed his hand, and we crossed the finish line together, hand-in-hand. Our finishing time, 1:25:33.

I learned a few valuable lessons from this race. I need to learn how to lose this horrific, insatiable competitive attitude I have with running and other sports. Or rather, I need to learn how to turn it on when I need it and turn it OFF when I have to. Secondly, I need to be more compassionate. I'll never be a good mentor or coach if I can't be more positive and understanding of where a person is with their running. Granted, this was my HUSBAND and I felt comfortable giving him a hard time and trying to bully him into running faster but I knew he wasn't trained for it and I pushed him anyway. BAD, BAD WIFE. I'm guilty. Thirdly, I need to just sit back and enjoy a race for once. Often I get so mental about the time, the time, the time that I lose the sense of the fun stuff... the crazy costumes, the cheerleaders, the people out there smiling because they are out there doing something good for their body. It's just fun. And a blessing.

The irony is, I am REALLY PROUD of my Man!!! He finished a 8.7 mile run with an average pace of UNDER 10 min miles with virtually no preparation. Not that I condone this type of behavior... he's lucky he didn't have a heart attack or sustain a bad injury.

What an awesome and talented duo I have here!

And in return for all of my love and support during our race (cough, cough), my Man rewarded me by driving me down to my favorite town in the Outer Banks of North Carolina for my birthday surprise!!! We stayed at this lovely establishment down at the waterfront:

 It was a bit chilly but they served complimentary wine and cheese on the deck overlooking the marina:

Reliving his glory from this morning's race.

 After a delicious meal at our all time favorite restaurant Outer Banks Brewing Station, we turned in for a good night's rest. We heard the wind HOWL outside and learned that Virginia Beach experienced a mini snow storm overnight!

But when we woke up, we looked out the window to see crisp blue skies and not a flake of snow on the ground.

A walk around town proved to be VERY VERY COLD. But pretty!

The Roanoke Marsh Lifesaving Station in the morning sunlight.

No one was out except the gulls... and us.

The Atlantic was angry and foamy. Not a soul out there on the beach.

My attempt at being "artistic."

So... it was a wonderful, wonderful time. And a HUMONGOUS thank you to my wonderful sister and her hubs for their delicious birthday meal last Friday (a perfect carb loading experience) and for watching our pack of rugrats while we got an evening away. It was just perfect and I'm so grateful.

Survived the Plague...

Okay, I wasn't expecting that.

I wasn't expecting to be down and out for days on end... coughing up a lung and other assorted crap, snorting and gasping for air through plugged up nasal passages, and feeling like I was about to pass out if I held my head up for too long. I wasn't expecting to be croaking like a dyin' frog when I tried to speak, or almost requiring hearing aids because my Eustachian tubes were sealed tight from swelling. If you watched the movie Contagion you probably get the general idea. I was beginning to wonder whether some mutant super-virus had come to claim me. This was it; the end. I was going to die from suffocation by phlegm and mucus. What a glorious way to go.

But over a week later and thanks to the nasty practice of neti pot flushing, I can actually breathe and I don't feel like I'm about to keel over. Slowly but surely I can feel energy seeping back into my body. Maybe I won't die after all.

Running? Ha! What's that? It feels like ages since I last attempted it. Just thinking about the extra oxygen required left me out of breath. Therefore I am QUITE BEHIND on the marathon training schedule... completely and totally missed the 20 miler this past weekend, and am doing my very best just to get myself psyched up for the shorter distances I need for the week. Although it's my nature to be "Downer Debbie" about all of this, I'm trying my VERY BEST to let it go. As if I had any control over the situation!! Move along, move along.

Speaking of moving along, life goes on despite the attack of the killer phlegm bug.

Snippets from "My Instagram Life":

Sweet picture of Girl Scientist #1 giving the Man some sugar.

The Boy wanted me to spend $7 on these glasses for him. That was a big NO.

Celebrating making Honor Roll.

Too young for Honor Roll, but a great report card nonetheless.

Driving to Richmond for a volleyball tournament and I was feeling creative; rather, I was feeling bored.

Lost in Scrabble to my 12 year old Boy. Now I'm really starting to feel old.

Our Egyptian princess performs in the very popular "Temples and Tombs" production to a "sell out" crowd.

One of my patients last night... a stray kitten found on the street. Who says the homeless are straggly and ugly? What a beauty.

And some other interesting updates:

1) I will be turning 42 in a couple of days and guess what I got as a special gift? An absolutely HUGE zit on my face, right smack on the cheek. Not the kind that goes away with a lil' dab of Clearasil, mind you. The deep, boil kind that will leave a big red mark on my face for weeks. The irony of it all is that I haven't broken out in... well, years. So the timing is a bit ridiculous. Wrinkles and zits. They go together like Laurel and Hardy.

2) I had the honor and the privilege of having not one but BOTH of my Christmas presents I purchased for my mother returned to ME as re-gifts. As in, she gave them back to me for me to "keep for myself." Not exactly shocking behavior on her part necessarily... but it stung anyway. Of course she meant well (I guess) but gifting etiquette has been seriously compromised. Just sayin'... I spent days looking for those "special somethings" and was so proud of myself. Oh well. Merry Christmas to me.

3) Speaking of gifts, I thought of might be a great fantasy birthday gift list (not including the nice earrings and scarf intended for my mother). It might include:

* an all expense paid trip to Scotland/Ireland to include tours of castles and lots of pubs

* a device to waterproof my iPod so I can listen to it while swimming

* my own private volleyball lessons

* an "all you can buy" gift card from Athleta, Title Nine, or Prana

* a private photography coach who will attend volleyball tournaments with me and show me EXACTLY how to set my camera to get the crisp action shots

* daily professional massages for a month... hell, make that 3 months

* a maid. Forever. Amen.

Realistically, a nice evening out is fine. And not too late. I'm sleepy.

Cooties and Perspective

Saw this post on Facebook this morning and just had to re-post. Pretty fitting, huh?

Well, so much for my theory that as long as I keep running, I will stave off the horrible pathogens that threaten me. While it's true that since I became a runner, I have had exponentially better immunity and have successfully fought off all sorts of creepy cooties... I am here this morning on day two of a doozy of a bug. My throat feels like shredded, raw meat and I'm coughing up my right lung. All of my energy is zapped, and I can't even find enough ooomph to walk the dog let alone go on a run. My muscles ache, especially in my back and I feel like I could fall asleep standing up. What. A. Bummer.

I almost forgot what it feels like it's been so long since I've a had a REAL nasty bug.

So as I crawled back into bed this morning after the school prep rush, I started thinking about what it's like for people with chronic, ongoing conditions (pain, Lyme, cancer, other numerous physical disabilities) and I just felt a huge sense of compassion. I am fortunate enough that almost every day I wake up I have good health and strength. The moment that is temporarily stripped from me, it feels devastating. I find it pathetic that the first thought that came into my brain was "I'll be set back in my marathon training." A few minutes later I took a moment to gain perspective. This is nothing in the big scheme of things. And I know it deep inside, so this is yet another exercise in letting go of what I cannot control, and try to stay positive.

I also got an encouraging email from my running coach. I told him I was going to try to go for 20 on Sunday, by myself, if I could... and he told me to consider just letting my body recover this weekend, and that's completely and totally okay. He pointed out that if I don't make the 20 because I wasn't fully recovered, that could be more harmful psychologically. Go for 5-6 and be content. Another reason to be completely and totally grateful I joined Team in Training. Just having someone with experience throw in their good advice when you're in a pickle about what to do can mean everything.

So here's to those out there who fight through the physical (and psychological) obstacles!! Those who are happy with the effort, not necessarily the actual result. Those who don't focus on the negative, but look for the good side of everything. Those that accept what cannot be controlled and make the best of it.

So I will stop whining, rest up, drink my tea, and continue feeling grateful... it's just a bug.

Uncontrolled Chaos

Shooooooo-eeeeee it's been a long while since posting. Only 3 posts in the 31 days of January. One might think I'm on vacation or hiding underneath a rock. Wish that I could use those excuses for my apathy, but the simple fact is I really didn't have the motivation to write. Usually I can come up with something to say about the daily grind, but I really have come up empty lately. When I think about what draws me back to a blog, I usually think about the funny, witty ones. Truth be told, I haven't had a good laugh in a long while. It's about time to go searching for the lighter side of things.

We've been busy. The kind of busy that leaves you ridiculously drained at the end of the day... so much so that the bed with all of its pillows and blankies becomes a zone of virtual paradise. I literally can't wait to shut my eyes every night. 9 o'clock rolls around and the body just shuts down. And then morning comes again and I feel a sense of almost dread. Another day of full steam ahead. Ugh.

Our days are filled with appointments, kids with emotional insecurities, sports practices, shopping for our meals, the dry cleaners, the counselors, tutoring sessions, league volleyball, league soccer, running (literally), hours at work, laundry, and now this...

My house looks like an awful episode from "Hoarders"... as we had to empty 4 bedrooms (and all of the closet contents) and a loft of all while 50% of our house is recarpeted. To save some money (actually it was quite a bit) my hubs and BIL moved all of the crap out themselves and pulled up the nasty 14 year old carpet. What. A. Nightmare.

For anyone that truly knows me, they can attest to the fact that I'm a bit of a stress freak. And if you turn my life upside down and disorganize me any more than I'm already disorganized, I tend to lose it. So when the kids underwear is moved to some back corner of a bathroom underneath 5 stacked boxes and is completely inaccessible and I have 3 wailing rugrats going "Where's this?? Where's THAT???" I start to come unglued with frustration. I can't take the chaos. Three days of utter CHAOS.

It reminds me yet again that I have one major goal in my lifetime... and that is to keep the mantras going about what's truly important. It's not access to underwear. Even though that IS important. It's to take things in stride, accept the obstacles, remember that there are worse situations, yada, yada, yada.

And be better prepared!!!

In the midst of all of this craziness, I have tried to make running a priority. After skipping almost all of my training runs the week before last I went on that 18 miler and fell apart at mile 16 while K-Boy went on to finish without me. I was so grumpy about it and disgusted with myself that I let everything go the week before. So I promised myself that the following week I would make no excuses. And I didn't. I did every prescribed distance during the week and when it came time to do my 19 miler on Saturday, I was determined to finish... pain or not. I accepted the fact that I would be alone since K-Boy was out of town but quite fortunately for me I had a buddy for the first 8 miles and our chatting really helped me out.

The trail, however, was an absolute nightmare. It was chock full of runners doing a distance series race and completely laden with ankle deep mud. I almost face planted twice as I tripped over protruding roots in the last half of my run. The first trip was horrific; I jammed my left big toe into the root with too much force and it brought back that searing toe pain I had controlled pretty well thus far. Tears flowed out of my eyes but I kept going. I finished 19.6 miles with about a 9:05 pace. There was nothing pretty about it, and I even had to stop to use the restroom (I hate that but I had to) but I can say I FINISHED.

I feel like an old woman and I ache all over, but I'm plugging along. After a discussion with my coach, a goal of 4:00 or less might be a bit of a challenge at this stage, but I will do my best without pushing myself toward an injury. It's great to dream and have lofty goals, but a bit o' realism needs to come into play here before I blow out a knee.

As far as my fundraising for the Leukemia Society, I'm only about $100 short of my goal with a little over a month left and I think (*I hope*) I'll make it. I really don't like asking people for money and it's excruciatingly hard for me but... I believe in the cause and have thoroughly enjoyed being part of such a motivational group. In a way I'd felt like maybe I'd found my calling. I imagined that I could somehow stay involved as a mentor or even a coach at some point for beginners. But the big reason I joined this effort is to honor my cousin and his family. Sometimes, in my zeal for reaching my goal, I forget how painful it is for them to see reminders of their loss. It was brought to my attention when one of my Facebook posts about TNT fundraising offended my aunt and caused her pain. It's a fine line to walk... sometimes I feel like I don't know what to say or what I should do. I need to put it out there, and do what I can to raise awareness if we're going to fight this disease and find a cure. But I'm well aware we didn't have a cure when we needed it... and that fact alone causes sheer pain and anguish.

More than ever I realize that I MUST be myself and be okay with that. I have to accept that the things I do or the type of person I am will not sit well with everyone. I am a human being, therefore I will disappoint someone out there. For most of my life I have felt inadequate and substandard. It's because I told myself that I need everyone's approval in order to approve of myself. That is a battle that can never be won. At some point, we have to come to terms with the unique individuals we are. Again, I am reminded of one of the Four Agreements: Always do your best and you will be at peace. If you do something with the best of intentions, you cannot be filled with regret. One can spend their whole life questioning everything, and trying their hardest to please those that cannot be pleased. It isn't about me, so I can't become so self-centered enough to personalize it. Just put the best foot forward and not be afraid. If there are consequences to my actions, they will happen anyway. One day I will have to believe in myself and be at peace.

So as I type the carpet's going in and the whole house smells like a hot glue gun. Soon I'll have my house back, and I hope my sanity, too!

A Trophy, A Purple Finger, and an Olympic Gold Medal Too

It's been a long while since my last post. I'd actually gone back to the idea of quitting the blog. I was pretty stressed out the past week or two and just didn't have it in me. But I'm trying to fight through this latest motivational slump and I figured writing might just be what I need to shake it off.

A few noteworthy things have happened in the past couple of weeks:

1) Girl Scientist #1 (aka Volleygirl)'s volleyball team won first place in their very first big tournament of the season. I daresay they blew their competition away and it was very exciting to behold. The girls have come a loooooong way from where they were last season. It's like they just get it. They didn't lose one set the entire tournament. Incredible.

I had fun taking pictures of them and playing around with my new lens I got for Christmas. This was my favorite shot of the team, although the big lens shadowed out the flash on the girl on the bottom. I don't have Photoshop and I couldn't fix it with my software, which is a complete and total bummer since I love the photo so much.

The Champions in a team huddle.

Bringing home the bling.

2) I played volleyball too and jammed my finger into my own damn teammate. We were both in ball hog mode and wanted to return a hard driven ball and went for it at the same time. Note to self: Let the 6'5, 200 pound man take the ball... because in a collision you will lose every time. My finger swelled to the size of a big ol' sausage and turned about 5 different shades of purple. Hope the Man and I stay married forever because I will never get my wedding rings off... ever.

 3) Still on the volleyball subject... superstar Kerri Walsh came to Virginia Beach and conducted a three hour clinic for our girls.

You know Kerri Walsh, right? The two time Olympic gold medalist in two man beach volleyball, of course! She and her partner Misty May-Treanor are icons in the sport we love and it was so cool to see her in person!

Kerri in the 2008 Olympics

 You really have to be in awe over how she gave all of the girls personal attention and recognition. She told my little Scientist she was beautiful and I can tell you that single remark will probably stay with her forever and make her shine bright from within. It's one thing to hear it from an adoring parent. To hear it from a hero who is the BEST at the sport you love... well, WOW.

 Kerri even brought her ACTUAL gold medal she won in Beijing for the girls to hold.

How's THAT for some serious BLING?

A total inspiration for the girls. Love it!

4) I didn't run for over 10 days. Don't know what to say. Just got myself in a funk. Worked extra hours, freaked out about the separation anxiety thing with Girl Scientist #2, felt tired, run-down, and totally zapped. BUT I got my rear end over to the group run this morning for what was supposed to be my 18 miler. Note to self: don't expect much when you haven't run in days and days. Kept up with K-Boy for 16 miles but the rain was coming down hard and my right knee was acting up. Had to walk the last two and he went on to finish his 18. I grumped as I walked back on my sore knee in the cold pouring rain.

I felt good and bad after the run. Good that I got 16 in, only 2 short of my goal. Bad that I was in pain and not prepared for it.

Next week will be different.

The Troughs with the Peaks

A few days ago I had started a post about how awesome I was feeling with the running; just completed a 16.3 mile run on Saturday with TNT, and I really just felt this surge of confidence that I am right on track for where I want to be. I've also really made some great headway with my nutritional goals too... have been eating better than before and taking my supplements with regularity. So overall, I just felt awesome.

But on the homefront I'm dealing with an issue that is just tearing me apart and I'm truly in a bad place because of it. My youngest is dealing with what appears to be a pretty nasty case of separation anxiety disorder. After that stint of illness she had before Christmas, she had decided in her little mind that going back to school is just not happening. She just doesn't want to do it. She feigns stomach pain morning after morning. And after four visits to the doctor to determine she in fact has no true chronic medical condition, I am exhausted.

Every morning she cries hysterically and has what is equivalent to a 3-4 year old's temper tantrum. At almost 8 years old and 65 pounds, it's not the easiest thing in the world to deal with I assure you. The pediatrician stated simply that I had to force her through it. Kicking and screaming, whatever... she goes. So morning after morning she screams at me in desperation, then moves onto kicking and even hitting me, when I try to pick her big body up and carry her into the building.. or as today's case may be, on the bus.

The neighbors and the kids stared in horror as I carried her flailing body to the bus this morning. We were a spectacle... and the whole gamut of emotions are raging through my head: embarrassment, anguish, guilt, anger, horror, frustration. I am so tired of this. I can't do this every day. I'm not made for this. God didn't give me tools to keep it together for this. And of course I question whether I should have ever become a parent. If my child is growing up with such a sense of insecurity and fear, what kind of emotional environment am I surrounding her with?

So the tears fell from my eyes after I walked away from the bus where I left my child screaming and refusing to sit down. The kids were probably laughing at her. It just devastates me.

But I remind myself that people have dealt with FAR, FAR worse situations. Children with true ailments such as severe epilepsy, autism, cancer... you name it. I'm sure there are days when those parents feel like they just need a break or want to throw in the towel altogether. But they don't. They don't give up and keep going. Of course this is what I'll do too after I let my pathetic self-pity party end.

So this afternoon we will try to talk out some issues with a counselor, and go from there. And I will most likely take a blogging break while I try to take a deep breath and count to ten.