My life is unfolding exactly as it should, and my blog needs some dusting off.  I’ve been overly busy and filled with mostly excitement and joy in some new adventures, some I got from just receiving gifts, and some I got from bloody knuckles.  So.  Here it is.  Bullet point style.

• Job.  I am in love with my new job.  I get to use my license and my recovery and I do 10 hour shifts without batting an eye.  I adore my co-workers.  Any of you who have been reading this blog know that I don’t like bosses, but they are a necessary evil.  My big boss…the one who hired me and remembered me from before…she loves me.  And she knows I don’t like bosses.  It’s a good fit, because she knows.
• My sons.  These teenagers.  I cannot say enough of how lucky I am to have them in my life.  The oldest is a gifted student and athlete, the youngest is witty and foreward thinking, and can create new schemes out of nothing.  Gifted in his own way.  The two of them together, well, it just is magic.  And, as the school year comes to a close, and we start our summer schedule, I just have to say.  I am so proud of them.
• Chet.  This chocolate lab that I adopted 7 years ago is totally gray.  He stayed by my side the last two years while I was at home, and because he eats window screens, and cannot be trusted not to eat any dog or cat shit in the back yard, he stays in my room all day every day and is just so damned happy when we get home.  True love, that dog is.
• Dating.  I’m doing it, and fairly regularly.  And it’s really really nice to meet new people and have them take an interest in you, enough, say to take you out of town or to a movie or show interest.  But.  I think I may be broken.  For the first time in my whole life, I absolutely do not want a boyfriend just to have a boyfriend.  And although there are offers, the next time I make love, it will be because I absolutely and desperately want to.  Handshakes and side hugs.  That’s all I have to offer.
• God, Sobriety, Recovery.  Because I’m working 4 ten hour shifts, and now am training for 3 half marathons, I am up at 4:15am and running.  I am at shift report by 7am, and have zero time for God.  So, I drive to the closest Starbucks at lunch, eat in complete silence, and try to tune out the world.  It works for me.  Tonight, after a long day, and sort of an emotional jag, I got out my meditation books.  Prayed.  Wrote.  I had so much time on my hands before to do these things.  I turned 34 years sober last month, and didn’t even blog about it.
• Grace.  That day back in February when I couldn’t believe it again, was a turning point for me.  Because that afternoon, I received a call about this job.  The very day.  Within hours of me praying to God to untangle me…that I had had enough, I saw the road change just a little bit.  And I’ve landed for some odd reason in this job.  I wake every day blessed, that God had the plan down all the time.  That I should really sit back and relax.  There are things I miss.  I don’t go back and forth to Fresno.  But, I am free.  And I am loving my life.  It’s all very weird.  But, I am trying to trust and let go, and let things happen as they are supposed to.  For the first time, I haven’t orchestrated or manipulated.  I simply get up and do my days.
• Training.  After the Modesto Marathon disaster, I didn’t train for awhile.  Now, all of a sudden, I have the itch.  3 Half Marathons:  San Francisco, Salinas, Folsom.  It’s gonna be a wild 5 months, but I have a cool running partner, and a host of good running pals from around the country.

Life is good.  Saturday nights are now for sleeping, as long runs in this cycle are on Sundays.  Which means I now say goodnight.  Sorry I haven’t done one thing on this blog for a bit.  I will try.  I miss the format.

I finished March out with a sad showing at the Modesto Half Marathon.  I was going along just fine, when at mile 4.86 (yes, I was that locked in), I felt an imperceptible pull.  My IT band.  It pulled ever so slowly, right down the side of my right leg.  I thought it was my hip.  I had never had this injury before, so I was shocked, to say the least.  I walked and limped 9 more miles.  And, I’m sort of over it.  This running business.  I love it, I really do.  But, when you work SO hard for SO long, only to get sick or injured, well, it’s wearing on me.

And, my writing.  Of late, it’s been really introspective.  Nothing I want to share, actually.  I’ve reopened a private blog, a place to write down all of the craziness that has typified the last 2 years, and have really had a turn in my life.  My writing doesn’t even really make sense to ME, much less anything I can share.  It’s all dangling participles, and phrases that don’t turn into sentences, thoughts that get started and have no conclusion.  My writing is exactly what it feels like to live inside my brain these days.

I’ve started to date.  And, that’s a really weird thing.  Someone said I should try dating websites, but they are pathetic and creepy, and most women I know want nothing to do with them.  I shudder to think that might be the place to meet a man.  At the same time,  in a way, I’m envious of people who can just put it all out there, and boldly state that they WANT someone.  And about that.  I just can’t do that.  I guess it’s because I don’t.  Want someone.  To meet someone and open all the way back up again.  Not now.  I know that I am enough, and I became a good woman, worthy of so much.  The times I’ve dated in the last few months, I didn’t even want to do anything more than a hug.  Just a gesture of thank you for the evening.  Dating is weird.  Dinner, movies, talking, all of that.  And at the end of the evening, I just want to be back home with my dog, and cuddling with MY life.  My GOOD life.

I’ve missed me.  The me that danced at the Dodgers game this weekend, and laughed out loud with my family, and the girl who still has not gone back to the old ways of shady behavior.  I have missed that little girl who looks at the world with wonder and innocence, even when I know it’s a dark place.  I’m tired, but I still have energy for good people, for people who don’t love with conditions.  And, though in the last 2 years I worked hard to lose my hard shell, along with it, I lost much of myself too, so I’ve come back to center, of sorts.  It’s hard, because I need good women to help me sort through the stuff I need to toss and need to keep.

I work.  With amazing people.  With a wonderful boss, who I knew years ago.  Who remembered how good I was at this particular work.  Who called me the day of that same familiar loss, when I prayed for God to untangle me, and who gave me a ray of sunshine that I’ve been missing for a year.  And now, I’m getting back into the swing of things…of being the worker and professional that I used to be.

So, running.  I have a half on tap in a few months.  I may try to work up a training plan.  But unless things change, I will look to a new way to love my body…and I do love my body.  The gym, yoga, bike riding.  Whatever.  Whatever it takes.  I’m sorry that I have nothing new to report.  No inspiration.  Except to say that March?  The madness is over, and just like that…tomorrow is a new day full of hope for my Dodgers and my children and my home and my life.

I’m so blessed, I can’t even really explain or understand it.

~Cheers~

It’s been a hell of a year. Sun is shining and life, well, it just turned another most interesting, fabulous corner.

Comeback Half Marathon is Sunday, and I’m looking to move in all sorts of directions.

So.  I’m 2 weeks out.  Only one more long run of 9 miles on Wednesday coming up, but I can’t shake that same feeling.  I could have done more.  I could have trained harder.  These thoughts are followed by the notion that you cannot go back.  You simply have to show up on race day with what you have.

The hay is in the barn, but it’s sort of wobbly, stacked funny.  I’m not sure if all the pistons will be firing correctly on that morning, but there is simply nothing to do about it now, except…go forward.  I’m excited, no matter how the race comes out, because last summer, I was begging the gods for just one more chance.  You have no idea how much you want to run…when you can’t.

Nothing but fun here.

Every February, Ripon celebrates the Almond Blossom Festival.  It’s that time of year where the trees come alive, and the parades, carnival, and baking contests come to town.  There’s always an 8K, and I have never once run it, because I just couldn’t bring myself to pay for it!  Plus, there’s always an urge for me to go out of town.  This year, my son asked me if I would be at the parade, since he was riding on the football float, so I decided to stay.  On Friday night, I was cooking pre-race pancakes, so it seemed I would also be running the 8K.

Saturday morning, I drove to the start of the race, bought a bib just as they were setting up, and drove home.  Something really nice about living 1.5 miles from the start line.  I spent 2 hours just relaxing, and then drove back to the start line.

It was windy, but not horrid.  I got in the pack, and the race field of 460 took off when the guy yelled through his megaphone.  Yes, it’s that small of a race.

I thought I would be bored, since I have run these streets weekly since 2009, but after we turned on Spring Creek, the race went out through homes and streets that I’ve never seen.

We got to Santos road, about 2.5 miles in, and I was at about 11:15 pace, which is AMAZING for me, post stress fracture.  About a mile earlier, I had started picking off racers.  One by one, I just kept my eye on the person in front of me. There was supposed to be a water station here, so again I cursed myself as to why I didn’t bring my own water.  (A lesson I learned in marathon training).  As I turned the corner, I remember Kim and I stashing candy in the bushes for a 15 miler that we would run…oh so many years ago, before fuel belts and serious training.

I felt amazing.  We ran through bees that were busy trying to pollinate, but it was pretty cool…and and at mile 4.2 or so, I started to get thirsty.  We headed back down Spring Creek, and I knew the park was very close, so I didn’t stress.

Post race:  Water, orange juice, oranges, and a lone quarter of a bagel.  My only gripe about the race would be the post race “nutrition” and water station that never materialized.

My final:  8K~57.18, an 11:32 pace.  I was 19/32 in the 50-59 age group, and 225/300 overall.  Best of all.  It was a blast.

Onward.

I’m on an inhaler, antibiotics, cough drops, aspirin, Mucinex (had to stop that due to a weird rash), and water. And, I’ve been there for 8 days.

No running, no gym.  In the old days, I would have sucked it up, laced up, and got out there.  Then look for sympathy for something I did to myself that was so stupid…

Today, I head to the gym, for some light walking on the treadmill, try to lift a few weights.  But.  If it doesn’t work out, I can’t beat myself up with my old runners’ head.  This time, I’m smart.  And, I know that I will feel better at some point.

In the middle of a training program, some drama must certainly fall.  Whether it’s being sick, or some life changing event, we simply must deal with it the best way we can.  So I write the letter S (for sick, not rest) on my plan…for 8 days.  To signify that sometimes, life hands you the cards and your little plans take a back seat.

I hate when that happens.

When I was a little girl, we had a McDonald’s or a Jack In The Box (I truly can’t remember) on the corner.  And I remember my Mom having to call in the order.  This was around the same time the jogging craze started.  Go figure.  Eating “out” was a treat, and exciting.  Little packets of ketchup, burgers wrapped in paper.  It was exciting.  Happy Meals were meals that my mom didn’t have to cook.  A treat for everyone.  My first job was at Jack In The Box, which explains my craving for Breakfast Jacks, Lemon Turnovers and Orange Juice.  All in one meal.  I ordered the same thing for years, until the Lemon Turnover went away.  Sadness.

So.  I get it.  We are set up to be happy with shit in a bag, and sad if we don’t get the treats we want.

Fast forward to today.  I had a coupon for a Rally’s in Fresno.  It was totally free, except for $4 and change.  I love saving money.  We went to the drive through, and sat and waited for this grease bomb of a meal, that would satisfy my vague craving for something bad.

I spilled the Diet Coke, which I assured Harley Guy wouldn’t be sticky because there was no sugar.  Then I tasted the drink, and it was the real thing.  I had a lap full of napkins and ketchup, and a bag full of burgers and fries.  And ice all over the floor.

We stopped in the parking lot, because we had this big mess.  I pulled out the thing I had ordered, and the spicy fries that just moments ago I had been coveting.  The bun was greasy.  The fries tasted like deep fried chicken.  And as we sat there, I could see a dumpster with crows sitting on its edges.  The crows, the grease, the mess.  I just couldn’t stomach it for one more minute, and couldn’t wait to dump it and drive away as quickly as we could.

I ached and groaned, thinking of what I’d just put my digestive system through on this rainy Friday afternoon.  I even went and picked up my bib for tomorrow’s 5k.  A few hours went by, and I was fine, but I drank a lot of water today, and tried to cleanse by eating some fruit, some wheat crackers.

A few weeks ago I was running in a nearby town, and I ran by a group of fast food restaurants, and I thought…if someone came from another locale, they would think our country smells just like grease.  It was hard to keep my pace, as I battled nausea from the fumes.

So.  I will not say I will never have fast food.  But, for right now, if I have to drive through anywhere, it’s not happening.  I love to say “There was no food!  We had to stop here!”  It’s time to be a bit more proactive…and stop thinking fast food is FUN.  Because clearly, my body does not think so.

This time, I have taken it slowly, but have incorporated a mean weight training program.  I have a tricep, and also a little pork chop looking muscle that drapes over my shoulders (excuse me, I’m a runner, not a weight lifter).  I now understand why body builders look in the mirror when they lift.  There is an excitement to see something you’ve actually built, and curiosity in watching the muscles course under my skin as they work.  I incorporate Core exercises, and have now successfully hung 15 long seconds in my quest to do one pull up by December 13, 2013.  I do squats.  I am working my whole body.

But my legs.  They are the sticks that will get me to the end.  And, even though I feel twinges of last year’s foot , I simply keep running, nailing all my times and distances.  It’s lovely really, because at the end of the day, I know that I’m taking my body to the best place it can be.

This weekend, I will do my first 5K in this training plan, running a little 3.1 miler in Fresno.  I don’t really care about distances, I care about that surge of energy when you lay out your gear the night before, lace up at 5am, slam down pre-run nutrition, pin on the bib.  That feeling of watching everyone else wait with me until the whistle blows, until I can blissfully fall into my own rhythm of the race.

Halfway there.  I’m loving this training cycle.