I’m running The Marine Corps Marathon on October 31, 2010. I’m raising funds for the Diabetes Action Team. Go HERE if you’d like to donate, or join me in running the Marathon. It’s sold out, and only a $500 fundraising commitment. Thanks for supporting TEAM LALA.
Hardware.
July 28, 2010
life, running partners, starting over 6 Comments
I’m not sure even how to begin this. I come home from a busy afternoon. My son and I are decorating a new bedroom for my oldest, who turns 13 on the last day of his trip. He will walk in, and he will…for the first time, have his own room.
A very dear friend @Bfrein, sent me the most beautiful and thoughtful gift…a rack for my medals. It even has a holder for the STUPID baton that we got at San Diego Rock N Roll Marathon. I was so excited, I put all the medals on and pounded holes in the walls without measuring or anything. Okay. Start over. SO I got everything together, and followed directions, and put the thingys in the wall, and screwed it in, and then it was done.
And, it looks perfect on my wall of fame. All my bibs from 2008 to now. My race plans for marathons on the wall. And I centered my LA Marathon one in the middle, because I’m thrilled for Marine Corps Marathon, but LA is when I’m coming back for redemption. So, it’s my focus.
Here is the rack close up: 
And, as I was putting all of these medals on the rack, one stood out to me…and it was so seemingly insignificant that I nearly missed it, sitting on a pin in the far back. It was red and dusty, and not really a medal at all.
It was the ribbon I got when I crossed the finish line at my very first official race in January 2008. We had only started Couch to 5k that previous Halloween, and this was the FIRST BIG RACE. We carb loaded Friday night. We were so nervous that we woke as early as possible to drive there. I don’t even remember where it was. The bay area. The race report was so miniscule. I didn’t even know how to write one.
But this red ribbon. THIS one. It’s the one that started me on my way. Other medals, such as the Half Marathon of Death, which is shoved to the left…they are markers of races and times and friends and the journey. There are miles of stories to tell with each one….The first place medal I won….out of one…The relay race I ran with Row’s husband…The relay team of “We Run This Town” and laughing and shivering…The 3rd place medal I won as I ran to the finish line as the race organizers were picking up the cones…the heartbreak at Napa to Sonoma of finding out a betrayal of many years…and meeting a new and kind friend…
The stories are all there, on that wall. But they don’t have any numbers…no PRs next to them…because for THIS girl? It’s never been about the numbers, except for my new goal. It’s always been about the people. The places. The stories. The friendships and love.
All the teams and the times and the towns.
And the red ribbon is moved to the front…right in the middle. Because it says the words “RUNNERS”. And this community of misfits and rockstars and slow and fast…and young and old…we are all just RUNNERS. It’s not my runnerversary, but again, in my most humble voice, I say thank you to all of you. In the voice of a 51 year old single mother raising boys in the most interesting of times…I say I love you.
Every Runner Has A Story (SF Half Mary Report)
July 26, 2010
13.1, half marathon, running partners 3 Comments
Here are my stats from yesterday’s San Francisco Half Marathon. They are stats. Let’s remember this as we proceed. They only tell part of the story, because by my recollection, this is probably the PW in a Half Marathon. I will have to check.
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My story begins as a 47 year old single Mom of a 10 and 7 year old boy on Halloween 2007…and has been told many times here on this blog. I started running because I was a PE teacher, then because I was getting a divorce, then because I fell in love with the sport. I soon was reading everything I could get my hands on…and there are countless posts about this on this site (just go to the Archives section for October).
And every race I want a PR. I want to improve, and I think that means improve my time. And until yesterday, I truly believed that was what I wanted.
My PR for a half marathon was set at the Davis Stampede earlier this year with a 2:24 and change. It was a horrid race, and an even worse course, but we finished it. If you are supposed to be happy with a mere number, I wasn’t. But, I digress.
Kim and I ran the race as planned with a very conservative first half. We hit it for five miles. I did something I had been challenged to do, which was run without music. Most of my readers know that I love playlists and songs that will pump me up…but recently my coach has been directing me to naked running. I balked, as I usually do.
The first mile I ran without music, and all I heard was the light padding of people’s feet all around me. I could feel my heart and lungs starting to gear up…and I liked it. I put in my earphones because a group of girls were gossiping about their friend who took a lot of vacations and had a lot of money. I just didn’t need the negative energy.
We passed 2-3-4 and started up the hill at 5 to what was to be a series of undulating hills. For the rest of the course. The hill at mile 2 or so is the same hill that Nike uses, so I’ve seen that mother before. But, it was easy. Nothing like the end of the course. At mile 6 or so you start the 3000 ft ascent to the Golden Gate Bridge…which looks flat but is so … not.
I ran the bridge on the Emerald 12K in 2008, but we were on the other side, it was sunny, and running traffice only one way. In this half marathon, runners looped so your side was going one way, and you had another group coming back. And it was a long slow incline…I wish I had taken water at mile 5, and kicked myself knowing there wouldn’t be water on the bridge. By the time we got to the water station, one person was pouring water, and a few were handing out GUs. I brought a Honey Stinger, but the fact remains: I cannot do these things. So, Kim waited for me…we walked, got water and I tried to settle my stomach. There was one band. Still, at this point, no music except for Til I Collapse by Eminem as I tried to reach the entrance to the bridge.
What comes up…must come down, so back over the bridge we go. And it was no more pleasant, except the other runners were now on the sidewalk which made it a bit easier. At the exit of the bridge, I was at 9.3 miles, and felt strong. Even though my numbers were off. I was strong…and that was joyous.
Miles 10-13.1 were a different story. I knew San Francisco was hilly. What I didn’t know was exactly HOW hilly. Mile 10 downhill was a nightmare. Like a long, never ending nightmare. I had no music, and I was paying attention to my legs that were starting to cramp, along with my shoulders. The up was bad, but the down was worse. Once I got off that, I knew it would be better. It wasn’t better. But, I was listening to my body…and THAT is better.
Mile 11-13 seemed to be one long set of hills. Mini inclines. Turn corner. Incline. Turn corner. Repeat. I walked a bit, because the Honey Stinger was not working for me. I saw very little support on the side. Just a lot of runners. In listening to my body, I also noticed it wasn’t working very hard…so I got to get it moving a little bit.
Finished. Stand in long long line to go back to the start line, and Kim has a raging tooth infection, so she is not good. We grab something to eat. My requisite coffee and her Diet Coke. And we get a pen, and we write on the tablecloth. Not on the blog or on a text. But really dissecting…and this has become my favorite part of racing: really connecting with the people who ran it with me. The journey, if nothing else. And we laugh about the people elbowing us to stay with their pace group, and the gossipers and the loud talkers and the cell phone users. And, we just laugh.
My story? It’s on the paper. Good and bad. We draw the course as we remember it, and talk about the events leading up to the medal. And, even though the time was not a PR, there was much gained in this race. From the crazy fun BART ride into San Francisco, to the 3am wakeup call (which is on the right side as negative) to the shivering under a mylar blanket, you just don’t define your race by the numbers. My story is told in the details. A fun race. Hard, but worth it in the end.
Race Season Begins
July 24, 2010
13.1, half marathon, running, running partners, twitter 3 Comments
San Francisco Half Marathon, here I come.
This half will be the first half I’ve done since February’s Davis Stampede, in which I PR’d 2:24 and change. I ran LA Marathon earlier and then have done a handful of little races since then.
Tomorrow will be the first Half Marathon on the March to my full Marathon on Halloween. I don’t have any real specific goals, except for an 11:15ish mile pace the first half, and 10:40 the second half. It’s a few miles up and back on the Golden Gate bridge, which is one of my favorite places to race. The wind in your hair, the mist, the people…all spectacular, even to this California girl.
Last night I went to the Expo, which was actually very pleasant, and saw only a few people I knew, but then went to the Tweetup at a local bar. This turned out to be incredibly fun. I knew a few people beforehand, but mostly everyone else was new to me. We had the pleasure of Bart Yasso also stopping by, but he’s one of those guys that doesn’t really go for the name treatment. It was just as fun meeting Joe, Penny and her sister, Kimberly, Michael (a couple I met in San Diego), John HellaSound, and others.
I got home, and got the map out. This morning, I’m hydrating and sitting in the pool. I speak at a local AA meeting tonight, then Kim and I race out of here at 3am to make a 6am race start.
My hopes are for the Half Marathon to go well. Haven’t run that far since LA. But, what I’m really hoping for is the renewed energy and hope that comes in the beginning of a training cycle…that maybe THIS time. THIS marathon will be the one that edges me over the wall…that solidifies that I’m doing it right.
Again, I’m thrilled to be a part of this running community. One that embraces all of us, fast and slow, young and old…and to have made real heart connections in this crazy world. I am truly blessed. Now…on to San Francisco…
My season begins…now.
Running Satisfied.
July 21, 2010
You wanna run happy? Run home. You wanna bring it? Meet me outside.
So, I gotta talk about something that’s been grinding on me. This notion that if you are not happy, you are missing the running boat. And, I am not happy. I think the impetus behind it, is that when it’s hard, and sometimes it’s really hard, there is a misguided notion that you must be doing something wrong. Like, can’t we all just get along? I know that there are whole shoe companies built on this notion, but it’s something I don’t buy.
When I run happy is when I’m in a groove. I’m in a groove because maybe I’ve gutted through a particularly tough start. Like this morning. Our first mile or so was just hard. I was not happy. I was pissed that I couldn’t get up on the balls of my feet. That I had to use the bathroom. That even though I trained HARD last week, I didn’t see a gain in fitness. My calves were screaming. The sun was in my eyes. We rounded toward Mile 3, and I was not happy. The old creeping negative vibes started to bang on the door of my psyche. And then, like it always does…I started really running. And I enjoyed it.
BUT. I did not start out happy. And, I wasn’t happy at mile 4 & 5. I was satisfied. I was solid. The happy came at the end…as the byproduct of the work I just did. When I was at a 9:40 pace the last half mile or so after gutting it over the Catwalk. When we got to talk about the good and bad of the run, that I had taken out my earphones at Mile 4 and listened to my body. So yeah, I was happy.
However. Ask any runner what percentage of her runs are happy runs? I would beg to offer that at MOST it’s 50-50. Because fantastic runners are made out of crappy runs. That you have to acknowledge that crappy runs happen in training. Otherwise, might have to throw the towel in right now. I am doing it right. I’m happy, not because of the run, but because of the results of the run. I can be with my son. I can do housework. (Sometimes) I can have a cookie. But happiness all the time? Not bloody likely.
Studies on what makes people happy reveal that it doesn’t have much to do with material goods or high achievement; it seems to whittle down to your outlook on life, and the quality of your relationships with the people around you. (from wikihow)
So. If I read this right, it’s not the goal I achieve, it’s my outlook. My people. What this means is, in order for me to Run Happy, I have to look upon this goal as something I can attain. With the people in my life and friends who walk this road with me…That I can reach the impossible! A 51 year old with only 2 marathons under her belt!!!
Happiness may or not happen. But that’s not why I run. I run to challenge myself. To make that goal happen. To be a better Mom, Friend, Daughter, Sister, Sponsor. Not to be happy. However…it happens regardless…just not every day, and not on every run.
If not now, WHEN?
July 20, 2010
I’ve never had insomnia. Ever. I usually sleep very well. Then Friday hit. Bad news in the mail with an 11 miler planned the next day. I was up until 2am trying desperately to sleep:
- Close your eyes.
- Toss
- Turn
- Look at clock
- Panic because you have to be up in 6 hours, then 5, then 4, then…you’re not getting up.
- Play Words with Friends
- Watch your East Coast friends on Twitter get up and run.
This happened Friday night. Then Saturday night, when a friend had to peel me off the wall, because for the first time in two years, I let what happened…happen. Like, I stopped swimming upstream. Had just finished signing papers after fighting for two years…only to watch it crumble away like sand slipping through my fingers. And, the Vineman I wanted to go to could not happen.
And I repeated the night before’s actions. Until 2:30. I figured I could sleep in. But it doesn’t really work that way. So more tossing and turning. Turn the TV on, then off. Read. Get a drink.
On Sunday I planned those 11 miles. And it didn’t happen. I laid in the pool hoping I wasn’t going to lose all of my fitness. My kids came home. We had a party at the house, and cake was left, and then I was eating sugar straight of the edges of the icing. And planned to run. Again. Maybe tomorrow.
Monday morning came and went. Last night I had ice cream. And was up until 3am. Pondering my life and my home and my kids and my direction. And knew I wouldn’t run today either.
My eyes flew open at 7am. As my blog tag says, “If not now, when?” I was exhausted. I laced up. I put my clothes on and walked outside. And I walked to the corner.
My calves said, “now”. I ran three junk miles. And, at the end, my body was screaming for more.
Tonight, there will be no electronics late. No TV. No sugar or caffeine. I will wake tomorrow and get through this hump to begin again.
Inception-What is Down Below
July 17, 2010
divorce, movies, therapy 2 Comments
***warning: spoilers***
If you have not had any therapy at all, have not dug down deep into your psyche, this movie is possibly not for you, save a Hollywood experience. If you have had therapy, and you’ve worked through a significant amount of stuff, you will get it.
In this scene, Leo (Cobb) is going down into his stuff. Into stuff that is so hidden, that it haunts you daily. That you have to keep it locked away for only you. I’ve had that stuff. And it’s scary as shit. The stuff that you don’t want to admit to your closest fellows…that MAYBE you will admit to a therapist, but it’s locked away because somehow, you have been able to deal with it on your own. Until now.
Before he goes down into his psyche via his dreams, however, he tries to take someone through THEIR own. Trying to get into the bad guy’s dreams to find a safe combination. And, I’m looking at the movie, and there are TONS of bad guys in the snow. In a blizzard. And they are trying to keep this guy protected, while our guys are trying to shoot down the defenses. The metaphor of the snow…the ice…the frozen…the way to keep all our secrets in stone.
And, I’m sitting in the movie, and I realize that with all the therapy work I’ve done, both as a professional and on the other side of the chair, I really have few secrets left in my psyche. I was thinking of the baby that died when I was 12, the boy next door…visions of snapshots that are my childhood. How my Dad used to step on that first step as he came home from work. Mom’s spaghetti sauce bubbling on the stove. And there’s really little down there, because the first rule you learn as a therapist is: you can’t go into your clients’ psyche unless you go into your own.
But then something else came up. When did I know? When did I know he was having an affair? The affair that lasted 8 years on and off? I knew early. I confronted him early. And he denied …for years. But, I knew. I watched Cobb miss his children, and how he couldn’t have them back until he let go of the past. Really let go of his wife. He says to her: “I miss you like crazy, but I have to let you go.” In a sense, I need to do the same thing.
As much as I am still hurt and angry, and feel like a mama bear trying to protect my children, I am in no position and have no control over this. I receive more bad news in the mail via his antics, and I have just decided to give up. To stop fighting, to stop swimming upstream. However, if I’m going to get better, then every time I get disturbing news, I have to stop bringing this old story back in to my psyche.
I’ve only known about it for a year. But, it was down there…a long time. And I wonder if my whole marriage was a sham, but I know and remember good and sweet times. And I have to let him go. He did drive me crazy. I hid way down deep what I knew. And I knew all along.
Bravo to Inception. Way to take us down there. And, in the end…the only way that Cobb transcends his history is to let her go…and to forgive himself.
And, so it is.
New “First”
July 16, 2010
Marine Corps Marathon, running Leave a comment
This summer, I was informed that since I’m on vacation, I will be getting 2 workouts a day. My response? Bring it. Feeling cocky and sure of myself, I knew I could do it. Easily. You just workout, eat, rest and workout, right? Not so much.
This is the third week of these two a days, and this week, for the first time, I was able to do three in a row. And it was a big deal.
Tuesday: Did Spin & Core work in am, Yoga & 4 miles in the evening. Yoga is so hard, but I keep thinking it’s like relaxation, and it is SO not. My teacher, at the end of the class says, “And you get to go run 4 miles”. Yeah, i know. Tuesday’s miles weren’t so bad, but I was definitely feeling it.
Wednesday: 4 miles relaxed in the morning. Well, since I’m up until midnight, morning was more like noon. On the treadmill. Nice and slow. Wednesday night called for a mix-up of 6 miles, alternating times. I did it for 3, but bailed and finally ended the night just doing 3×2 9:30 splits for nearly 2 miles. We got in the 6, just not as prescribed. It was wicked hot and hard, and Kim and I were both spent at the end.
Thursday: The morning called for spin and core, which I did easily, and I thought…oh, tonight’s 4 miler will be EASY PEASY (just like my coach called them). They were anything but that. I parked my car at the market, because we were out of milk, and I could also avoid a hill, making it an easy run. When I got to N.Ripon Road, I looked at Crash Davis, and realized, it was only .6 mile. Really? Up and around Mistlin Park, by the Jack Tone Truck Stop, into the market parking lot I fly…and look down. 2.83 miles. I ran around and around. Down side streets, because I needed to prove to myself that I could do four miles. I ran into the parking lot just as the manager was coming in. I got my keys and ran in and grabbed a water…which I paid for with my groceries.
And, I finished 3 days in a row of 2 workouts a day. But, I’m spent. I really am. Today is an off day, with a 5am start tomorrow of 11 miles. Damn. It was hard. But, I’m very satisified with this. Time to rest & hydrate because it’s going to be 106 today. Central Valley. It’s July.
In Search of 4.
July 14, 2010
Marine Corps Marathon, Team LaLa 3 Comments
I have just started training for The Marine Corps Marathon. Official training. I’m in week 2. Here’s some things I’d like to do differently this time:
- 2 a days. When I have time, which I do this summer, my coach has given me workouts twice a day. these are variations of spinning, yoga, running & core work. i have only been able to do 2 in a row. tomorrow i will see if i can do three.
- take myself seriously. i think for the most part, i can pump myself up to believe i can do it. yay yay yay me. however, you have to have the money behind your mouth. which means every time i don’t want to work out, i take myself out of the running, literally and figuratively.
- no pedicures until november 1. what i’ve learned about my feet is this: if i build them up during training, then slough them off over and over, i’m really damaging the hard work i’ve put in. i’m sure there’s no scientific evidence to back this up, but honestly, there should be.
- no diet sodas until november 1. remember i gave up diet drinks this year before the la marathon. well, slowly, ever so slowly, they worked back into my diet. here and there. diet mountain dew, diet orange, full coke, etc. i feel better when i don’t have them, so now…i don’t have them.
- focus. i have wanted a bq since i started running. when i’m 60, i will have to have a 4:30 time to bq. i hope to do it before then, and my coach believes that i can if i do the work. it’s not a wish, it’s a real goal. but lately, i’ve been diverted with thinking about ultras, tris, etc. not that i’m going to do them. i’m not. i just know that i’m the girl that wants to conquer the marathon and that’s it. even this month in runner’s world, there’s a section on tris. no bueno. if i wanted to read about tris, then, i’d get that mag. (as i type this, i’m getting lots of nods from my twitter pals, so probably in a year from now this means i’ll be training for a tri. no no no)
- 4. the number is 4. i don’t care if it’s 4:59:59, i want a 4. which means i have to work for it.
- races i have the san francisco half marathon in july, nike half marathon in october. august & september are not spoken for. that being said, i love racing, but my focus is running, and running hard. building up my hockey stick legs for the hills on the marathon. the endurance.
- music. one thing i’ve learned recently, is that there is a reason that i turn my music down during races. it’s because the music distracts me from my body, and i defocus very quickly. so recently people have been talking about running naked. no music, no garmin. this morning, i ran a full mile with sound. it felt good, but it was boring as hell. so yeah, sometimes i need the distraction.
- boyfriends and dating. or dating and boyfriends. or lack thereof. i seem to get fairly dipsy when a man comes into my life. the last few months i’ve met several men, dated, chatted, phoned, texted, emailed, skyped. here’s the deal for me. i gotta get this marathon thing nailed. so i know i’m not normal. i know people have full on relationships while training, and although i’ve stated LOUD AND CLEAR, that i do NOT want a relationship, i seem to get wacky just with the kiss-chase. so yeah, i’m gonna put that on hold too. as if i have any say about it. the universe has it’s ways. but i’m not in pursuit. at all. and it’s killing me. lol
- remember why i’m running you see the sticky note at the top of my blog. it’s why i’m running this particular marathon. i couldn’t find a marathon where i could run and raise money for diabetes. i’m so tired of hearing about my sister with some new illness, with some other reason to be careful. her story is on the team lala page, and gives me purpose for this training. so yeah, i want that sub 5, but i’d give it all if she could just get better.
This post is all over the place.
July 5, 2010
A few weeks ago, I wrote this post about Twitter becoming my real life. This morning, I sit in San Antonio, Texas by the good graces of more Twitter friends. I’ve decided that using the term “real life” doesn’t really work for me anymore. I’ve written before, how in 1988 I did AA meetings online, “met” people online, but they stayed online. Most people I met from that era, were just sorta odd. Probably including me.
A few years ago, I was on the Weight Watcher message boards. No, make that 7 years ago. I met some women, we started a Yahoo group, and we mostly exchanged information there. Then, we decided to meet. There were 13 of us. What is left of us, is 6 girls who meet every summer. Yes, they started out online, but they have become my real friends. We have a blog. We check in daily.
I never did take to Facebook, and I’m within days of permanent deletion (on my third try), because yes, I love to look at all your details, and I will, wasting 4 hours at a time. It’s just not really good for me.
I found Twitter a year ago. I’ve met many people, most of whom have turned out to be really great people. And, those connections have evolved. Just like life, your interests change, your focus changes, and your support team changes. I’ve been using Twitter primarily for fun and for free. Chit chatting at 140 characters at a time.
And then, this summer hits. And, the above mentioned blog post was about hooking up and having fun in San Diego. It was a blast. I came home, and had a week without my children, as they were in Los Angeles with my Mom and Dad. And my cousin’s Dad died (last post), and Yasmine sends me a Jet Blue ticket…literally out of the blue. I get to Virginia and meet Neal and Justin, and play foursquare.
I get back and go to Bass Lake, where one night…ONE NIGHT…I am waiting for my friend Ron to cross the finish at IronMan…and i have no internet connection, just relying on tweets, and Penny is sending me text updates, and I am on pins and needles because I know he needs to cross the finish before 17 hours…which he does, in 16:45…and I am jumping up and down in a cabin, and this is so far beyond “internet life”.
I’m at Bass Lake, and Lisa had previously asked if I wanted to come to San Antonio for the AA International Convention. I hadn’t been since 1995, and it was overwhelming and wonderful, but I just couldn’t swing another ticket. On Wednesday, I ask Lisa, if that’s still available, and from the lake, she gets the ticket, and tells me she has a place for me to stay. Internet friends? I think not.
I go to this convention, where I typically experience the same thing in crowds every time. I feel alone and lonely, and even with 31 years of sobriety, I cannot seem to connect. I finally find a regular panel meeting …We go to the Friday Night Flag Ceremony, and I have chills. We listen as speakers, regular speakers talk about their regular lives. No big shots. And, Saturday…I’m still walking around. Lisa and Gretchen go to lunch, and I go to a place called Sober City, and I’m talking to this guy about the Flying Pig Marathon, which is on my to-do list, and this man comes up and asks him, “Do you know a guy named…”
And, I turn around, and it’s Larry. Larry, who moved in with me 21 days after I left my first husband. No, I’m not proud of this, but he had a profound impact on my life. It wasn’t really a life decision, he needed a place to stay and I had one…BUT, I was madly in love with him, and he was just passing through…my kind of man. He was also 3 years more sober than me, and was getting a divorce too. Match made in heaven.
And here is where the impact comes in. I had 10 years of sobriety, but I had no conscious contact with a god or God. I used God in a 9-1-1-. HELP! situation. Larry would pray and meditate every day. He would say he can’t connect or talk or do anything until he had his quiet time. I couldn’t understand this, and in my 30 year old head, I would get this guy to love me…so I decided I would do the pray and meditate game. I would hear his Harley drive up at night, and I would turn off the lights and light candles and pretend to pray when he walked in. And, I would fake that I was getting a spiritual connection.
And then one day, he moved along. Back to Arizona…and I visited him once there, but we were just not suited for each other.
But. I continued to pray and meditate. And have hardly missed a day since 1989. And Larry, with the one eyebrow and Harley gave that to me. And, I never judge how people get to God. Just get here. It doesn’t matter how.
So, I look up at this AA Convention, and there is Larry. And we hug, and I bawl. And I see the twinkle in his eyes. The man who gave me God. Because I was dishonest and was trying to keep him as my boyfriend. And we go and catch up, and we have 6 divorces between us, and he has a bunch of kids, and found out after he left me, that he had PTSD from Vietnam. And we laugh. And all is well.
He orders 4 shots of Espresso, because…as he says, “We’re real alcoholics”. And I laugh, because this is the man I know and love. He and all his brothers are sober, and they save us seats at the big meeting, and one of his brothers is 90 days sober.
I cry. I hear the music of Chapter Five. I see my sponsor. I see my AA sisters. I see people I love and adore…and I realize that the friends I’ve met on Twitter are my real friends. In my real life. And I couldn’t ask for better people. And, I will tell you this. I needed to see Larry. To remember my real purpose on this planet. To be of service to the still sick and suffering alcoholic. That my purpose is not ME ME ME.
And today, we go to an AA meeting in San Antonio, and we are going to the hospital, because Lisa got a call that an alcoholic needed some support. And even and especially when it is inconvenient, we stay on the firing line of life.
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