5 Miles, 2 Weddings & A Funeral

June 20, 2010

Ms V. family 2 Comments

the day starts off with a 5 mile udder run, in which I get

4th place in my age group.

see steve, an old dear friend, taught with him ’02.  he’s fast, man.

wedding of local girl, who is married in the church where I was married: 

skip this part

reception, check.  quick drive to airport.

redeye to virginia.  beautiful way to start the day. (from airplane seat)

and i look out and wonder

why now?

my uncle’s visitation & funeral.

watching my cousin play swahnee river…on the organ for her daddy.

watching her brother hold in his tears.  seeing him made me melt.

met all their *other* cousins.  we thought we were the only ones.

this sign on a restroom door.  one question: why?

going to a softball game of a cousin.  playing in the red mud.

realizing that you should be taking time to be doing this all the time.

not just when someone dies.

because your family is all you have, really.

learning about this town, this humidity…running, walking.

talking, laughing, giggling like we were girls again.

she wakes me up reading me a story.  my cousin’s granddaughter. 

beautiful, loving child.

watching my cousin parent her…waking her up with giggles & waffles.

she reads me a story when i wake up.  she puts a bell by my bed.  Just in case.

i go to an aa meeting.

atlantic fleet. navy.  I go for one reason, and get a different benefit.

people who want to stay sober.  again, wasn’t about me.

I sit on the porch with her neighbors.

night after night.  breeze through the trees.  taking time.

making time when there is no time.

and we try to fix the problems of the neighbors, of my uncle’s wife.

and realize, if it isn’t happening NOW, it’s not happening.

so, we sit, and talk, and laugh.

and she says hey, you know who would be perfect for her?

and again, we are all school girls, and they tell me about this guy.

…and i think nothing more of it. and i smile because really.

my cousin has to go back.  he and his sister.  on the porch.  my favorite people.

in the world.

and, I finally finally finally let go of a man who has been telling me half truths.

for three months.

and i’m happy to let him go…one less bell to answer.

and she graduates from 1st to 2nd grade.

her teacher is a first year, tight lemon faced teacher

who forgets that she is most DEFINITELY a member of the step up club

and she didn’t get mentioned, so I do it here.

my favorite picture.  the love. give me a hug.

and we walk. and we talk. and we sweat. and we figure out the family,

and the reasons for our moms’ lives

and we put together the puzzle pieces and we share

our sides of the family secrets

and realize we’ve not done this since we were 10 years old

spend a whole week together

and it was just like that. being little. listening to music

playing rummy in which she puts down a card for discard

takes it back.

thus the score. and she writes ME and YOU just like when we were girls.

 with the same handwriting i saw 100 times

a close game.  of five points.  that i could have won.

lightning bugs

virginia beach and lunch on the sidewalk and realizing that there is no way

we could have done this.

but for the beautiful gift of a friend from Twitter.

2 cousins on the beach

bridging the miles and 40 years and montana and marriages and coming back

to my very favorite cousin. ever.

and her beautiful daughter and husband

going to the corpsman ball

the man who wore his dress navy uniform to her grandfather’s funeral

and she looks so happy. and i give her a load of grief

that i couldn’t do on monday

but by wednesday, my place in this family is secure,

and i can be that aunt that you avoid.

but she’s happy. and i’m happy. and she is beautiful.

and these cats. who really really i’ve grown attached to by the end of the week.

and the hamster that runs on his wheel the last night

because sweet neighbor gal removes the wheel every night

except the last one.

and i meet the man, who on paper i have no connection to

but then i see him and like him and he is a gentleman

and i’m not sure what to do about that.

and i text him like a teenager, and he texts me back and we have dinner

and walk on the beach… feet in the ocean.

and i like him. naturally.

geography.

but this week is not about him. it’s about my cousin.

it’s about meeting her again. and liking her the same way i did as a kid.

except now i can teach her about 30 minutes of exercise, water, fruits & veggies

and please unplug your blowdryer

and i write her a letter the last day that i’m there.  i’m up at 5am

and i am only hearing one song over and over in my head.

and i am crying because i don’t want to leave her.

she got a do-over with her dad, with her granddaughter

and with me.

and i go across the street before we drive away, and i am crying

and the cats wrap themselves around my legs.

and i am thankful.

and i look at the beach at norfolk, at the endless possibilities.

and i become the mayor of the golf course,

the chesapeake bay, the atlantic ocean

and i have to leave.

i play this song that had wrapped itself around my brain all morning.

because it’s the story of my love for this cousin.

how do you thank someone who has taken from you from crayons to perfume?

i have no idea.

but the universe cracked open for this one.

and i say thank you.

]

*note: i tried to get to the second wedding. plane landed too late.

and life goes on…

Making Peace With Humidity

June 15, 2010

Ms V. running, weather 6 Comments

I got to Virginia on Sunday.  I came in on a Redeye flight from Sacramento, to New York, then to Richmond.  Then, my cousin’s daughter picked me up, and we drove 90 miles to Norfolk.  I was so sleepy, having to go to the visitation for my Uncle just a few hours later.

The next morning, I decided to try to run early.  I opened the door, and was hit with what felt like an oppressing wall of heat.  But…not just heat, something else…heavy and warm.  My hair became damp, I started to sweat, and not in a pretty, glistening way.  I had been hit with 97% humidity.  Yes, you read that right.  97.  PERCENT.  Like, almost water, right?

Well, I shelved the run, and later my cousin and I walked for an hour, so as to salvage some type of exercise plan.  I was soaked, drenched from head to toe.

Today, I decided that I have to run, because there is a little marathon I’m committed to in Washington DC on Halloween.  So, I go outside, fully prepared to run 5 miles, although we’ve driven around enough to know that I would probably get lost.  One street was stately, beautiful homes, the next street, people are partying on their porches, trash on the lawn.

I step outside.  My internet says it’s ONLY 57%.  Apparently, I read that when I didn’t have my glasses on my head.  It was again 97.  I started to run at a snail’s pace, and not because I was tired, or my legs were hurting or anything…It was because I felt like I was running AGAINST something.  The rest of the run was uneventful, except that I kept looking at Crash to see if and when this thing would end.

I finally stopped at the perimeter of the Ocean View golf course, doing 2.19 miles in 23:52.

Here’s what went through my mind:  There really should be a grading system to get into say, Boston or something.  Like, if you PR in the South that should MEAN something in terms of time.  I do enough complaining about running period, but compared to the South and East coast, running in California is a dream.  SO, if you looked at the elements in California, what do we have?  Hills? okay.  Yeah, they should grade a hilly marathon compared to a flat one…a humid vs. a dry.  Makes perfect sense to me.   Or, if you live in a place like, say Colorado…you could really kick some marathon ass in a place like Fresno. BQ even.

So my hat is off to the runners I know from the South and East.  I think if you want a PR though, you should go elsewhere.  If my run today is any indication of the rest of the week, I should be sufficiently tough enough to go back to California and race something spectacular.

I’m going back to the Golf Course tomorrow.  My plan is to double the miles.  I must make peace with this humidity, because after all, I am training, and the marathon has taught me one thing:  You don’t control the weather on race day, and NEVER on training runs.  I’m glad I brought two pairs of shoes.

Uncle Benny

June 10, 2010

Ms V. family 5 Comments

I had this uncle.  A long time ago.  He was married to my Mom’s sister, and is the father of my two cousins.  These two cousins were my only two cousins who lived in California, and my Mom was close with her sister, so we saw them frequently.  Ever summer at Bass Lake, as much holiday as we could stand.  And we wrote letters the old fashioned way. And we colored in coloring books.  And we fooled around.  And smoked cigarettes.  A lot.

Uncle Benny was married to my Aunt Pat sometime in the 50′s, and they were married until sometime in the 60s.  The dates are hazy, because I was a 10 year old you see.  I remember the day that my Mom and Dad sat us on the piano bench, and told us that Aunt Pat and Uncle Benny were getting a divorce.  I didn’t even know what a divorce was, but I knew that it meant they wouldn’t be together any more.  And, I remember feeling nothing about it really.  But, I remember in the years that followed, he always said to me, “I’m your Uncle Benny.  For always.”  That even though they divorced he still considered me his niece.

Uncle Benny died yesterday. At 80 years old.  My cousin moved back to Virginia to be near him, and they forged a wonderful relationship, which goes to prove that you can have a crap relationship with your parent, but in the end…you get to re-do it and change it and make it into something new…with forgiveness and love.

I was sad when I heard the news.  I am currently trying to get back there to be with my cousin.  This is the older cousin who gave me my first drink, who taught me about all things 60s.  Who I watched drop acid on Christmas, who told me there was no Santa Claus.  I loved her to death, and wanted to be her.  She was the coolest, and still is.  And I would walk to the ends of the earth for her…And, she’s a grownup now.  With grandchildren…having just barely survived the 60s.  Barely. 

So, here’s what I remember about Uncle Benny.  Duro-Dyne shirts.  Virginia.  Red headed.  Boxer.  But, the real deal is this.  The man let us eat chocolate ice cream…right out of the box (box? we had tubs)…for dinner.  Now, whatever you do for a kid, this lives on in infamy.  That’s my biggest and best memory.  Because when I was 10, it was about doing something I couldn’t do on home territory.

I know there is more to a man’s life than this, but I hope when he gets to the gates that there is chocolate ice cream for Uncle Benny…and he can know that however small it may seem, that this gesture told me it was okay… once in a while…to do what you want…to break the rules.

Peace & love,

Your niece, Linda

Wherein Twitter & My Real Life Become One…

June 7, 2010

Ms V. relay, running, speedy sasquatch, twitter 4 Comments

I’m finally home after a very long weekend of driving, which started on Thursday, June 3rd.  I’m not sure I can put together a coherent post, so I will bullet my way into some semblance of decent writing, and perhaps you can get the picture of this non-race I ran. 

Thursday, June 3, 2010

  • School is out.  I drive to take my kids to my parents’ house.  They get to spend a week there every summer without me.  Everyone wins on this one.  My brother in law picks them up, and I head to Dodger Stadium for the Atlanta game.
  • I meet up with Mike, Melissa, Candy, Nadim and Bob, who gets us GREAT seats on the third base line.  This is the beginning of a great weekend.  Laughing, trash talking, generally eating too much Dodger food.  No Dodger win, but Candy got a ball that I wrote all over, so as to commemorate the evening. 
  • The best part.  Taking pictures afterward.  Exchanging Twitter handles.  Eating crap food.  Realizing that people who don’t use Twitter are losing out on a great opportunity to expand and include more love and laughter in their lives.

Friday June 4, 2010

  • I must get to San Diego.  I drive to Kate C’s house.  This is a woman who’s opened her home to me, and lets me stay in this quiet, lovely condo.  For nothing.  Now, that’s trust.  Friends of Bill W. are like that.
  • I get to the Tweetup organized by Lori, Candy & Alison.  I meet Ali, a soon to be marathoner…another person I talk with daily…along with Lisa & Gretchen, Erin & her hubs, Michael…and Yasmine, the mother of the baby below, the list goes on and on.
  • I meet so many people there, I cannot comprehend, but more than anything, I am over-thrilled and just want to pinch his cheeks:  I meet my coach, Josh…also know as SpeedySasquatch.  Here is a man I talk with daily, and get workouts weekly, and email and text…and the only time I’ve met him was him running by me at the CIM relay.  He’s much younger than I imagine, and he is underwhelmed in my presence, so I work even HARDER to get him riled up.  Nothin’ doing.  I spend the time with him trying to get his grits cookin’, but give up because I realize this will come back in the form of 2-fers.  2x daily workouts. 
  • We eat at The Yard House, we walk to what I thought was the beach with Dan, Josh & his brother, Ali, Elyssa.

Saturday, June 5, 2010

  • Run 20 minutes at my hostess’ neighborhood.  Little jog.  Sweating bullets.  Blech on humidity. 
  • I drive back in to San Diego to meet up with Team Twitterati: Glenn, Josh, Mike  There is a separate post on these three men, but suffice it to say…Glenn is my confidante with most things running & twitter…Josh is my coach, and Mike is simply the kindest, coolest dude I have ever met.  I convinced him to do the relay thinking, poor guy…hasn’t run since November…and I will not mock him when he walks into the transition place. Boy, was I wrong.  Mike ALSO took me through the drama of last summer with the ex-hubs antics, supporting by email and twitter.  Good men.  Great team.

  • We have a brain-storming breakfast and head on over to the Expo…where we are given a DRUMSTICK….a drumstick, and the volunteers tell us we must run with this thing.  And, I go back several times to really see if we have to run with it.  And yes, we do.  I am not amused.

  • We spend lots of hours at the Expo, see Danica, Sam, meet Scott (a Dodger fan, and my new best friend who I get to tell the Kurt Gibson story), and see more of my team.  I meet the infamous, John of Hella Sound…the man’s music has carried me on more than one run…and I fall in love with his energy!!

there’s the stupid baton again ^^^

  • That night, Kate and I go to the La Jolla Speaker’s Meeting, and it is simply lovely and peaceful, and I come back, ready to get a good night’s sleep…I’m only running the last leg after all, shouldn’t be too bad…

Sunday, June 6, 2010

  • I am quite sure I set the alarm.  But, what wakes me up is Glenn texting me saying: I hope you’re awake.  Uh, I’m not.  I’m throwing things together to try to get to the Qualcomm stadium parking lot, to drop off my gear, and catch a trolley to my leg.
  • No, not to my leg.  To the dropoff.  Then I get to walk 1.7 miles to my transition place.  I walk with a lady from Bakersfield.  (I always wonder what happens to the people I meet and then never see again at races)

  • There’s the stupid baton again, but that was the early morning texts I got from Glenn & Bob, and that’s Mrs. Hoofy with Hoof (Mike on the trolley)…Oh, and that’s me at the transition point.  I hear you look thinner if you cross your legs…I have my TNT shirt on just in case some purple wants to share the love, even though I’m not part of it today.
  • We get to the transition area.  Waiting.  A long time.  Everyone is relaxed.  A downed runner, who collapses, and not one medic around, or in the area.  Other runners are trying to get this guy taken care of, and it is scary.  A good 20 minutes goes by before an ambulance comes.  People are calling 911.  Not a good sign for Rock And Roll…you’d think they would have someone there for Pete’s sake.  #fail.

The Actual Race

  • My favorite tweets from Glenn :   !%^@#$*^ When he is done.  I am laughing SO hard.
  • Glenn:  @SpeedySasquatch has been unleashed.  I just have this visual of my wicked fast coach. Unleashed.
  • Mrs. Hoofy:  “He” (Mike) just left.  Here’s where I get excited, after the 3rd trip to the bathroom (for reals, man), and I think poor Mike, he hasn’t trained, he must be so tired, etc.  Then I see her.  Then she gets a text from him that he is at mile 19.9.  Already.
  • I look up and there is my coach, having run a little more to get to us…he’s actually there to run with two on our team, but of course I think he’s there for me. :)
  • Then…holy hell.  Here comes Mike.  Sweaty, full of sweat, and kicking ASS so hard it’s like a speed demon.  I am wildly excited and feel thrilled!!!

~~~~~

  • I take the baton.  Out of the chute, over the overpass.  I am feeling strong.  My first mile is 9:46.  I am already impressed with myself.  I am thinking.  Damn.  I gotta start training for reals.
  • Mile 2 is getting a little harder.  Cuz we are on dirt.  Lots of dirt.  Lots of winding, and I can see people up and around this little Non-Fiesta island…and they are all over the place, so you never really know if you will ever leave.  Sort of like a house of horrors…because you’ve already seen people leave…but you.  You will never get off this island.  Could be a good horror flick 10:26 for Mile 2.
  • At this point, I do NOT know what to do with the freaking stick.  It’s in my hand, in my hat, in my bra, in my back, and I heard Josh had it in his mouth.  I just keep passing it back and forth.  Plus, I know that real marathoners HATE relay peeps, because they are so damned fresh.  Well, not me…but most.  I’m just getting hot.  I take water.  I start to think this is a sicker, southern California version of Lake Merced of Nike Women’s Marathon…someone is water skiing.  Really?  Mile 3 11:01. There’s a pattern here.  It’s hot, and I’m hot, and I have only run 3 miles.  It was somewhere around this hell that I saw HellaSound.  With signs.  Yelling.  Jumping.  It helped…a lot.
  • Mile 4, I see this guy walking.  I’m like DUDE.  You do not want to walk.  Talk to me.  We run.  The rest of the way.  But he is significantly tired.  And I’m tired.  But, I’m going to run with him.  Mile 4 11:19.  And I start to feel as though I can make it because hey, I’m supposed to be helping HIM.  I’m hot.  Have I mentioned I’m hot? 
  • Mile 5 is better because I know we have to be spit off this island at some point.  Mile 5 10:39.  People are spraying us, dousing us with water.  The guy I’m running with is bald, no hat, no glasses, and MAN it’s toasty.
  • .78 left …I see Gretchen, I see Glenn, and he runs us in.  Finally, I give the guy to Glenn, and I slow way down.  I’m not going to walk, but I want to.  I’m just not sure I can face my coach or my team and tell them I walked my part of 5.7 miles.  I hear the Rock And Roll people, and know I gotta get there.  The last .2 was LONG and much longer than a lap it seemed.  I finally, mercifully, cross the line. 
  • I walk back and forth.  Find and lose Glenn and Josh.  See Ali, and get to run with her for .4 miles or so.  What a treat!! I walk some more on the beach.  Stand by the 26 mile sign.  Until finally, we are in the weirdest line to get on the bus to take us to the trolley to take us to the stadium.  More on that with my next post.  But here is my favorite picture of the weekend.  I couldn’t get my coach to get into the Ms. V. emotion, but this picture reminds me that I simply adore him, and tomorrow I will get a plan from him, and I am convinced beyond anything, that this Fall, I’ll be getting that Marathon Success at Marine Corps Marathon.

Tomorrow:  My thoughts on Rock And Roll Machines…but for now.  Bed.

Wherein Online Dating Is Taken Off The Plate.

May 28, 2010

Ms V. dating 10 Comments

It’s been a long time.  He moved out in February 2007, and although it took me awhile to untangle from him, okay 3 years…I have finally accepted the fact that I am moving into new territory.  Dating.  Real dating.  Not the “hey let’s have a coffee” thing.   But, actually considering going out and spending an evening with someone. 

Now, I was given strict instructions that I should wait a year before dating.  Okay, it’s been 3.  I’ve done dinner and movies with my girlfriends TO DEATH.  And, I just feel like it’s time to MAYBE get some male energy into my life.  Starting last summer, I thought I was ready for this, but I wasn’t. 

So here’s what’s happened.  I joined eHarmony.  I did.  For about 5 minutes.  I met someone who lived in a nearby town, but I really COULDN’T meet him because he was a farmer.  And I am in a small farming community, and while I’m clear writing about it on the blog could leak out much faster than town gossip, I’m willing to put it on here.

Because.  It’s a really funny story.

Long story.  Succinct.  I meet this guy, and BIG MISTAKE I ask my ex husband if he knows him.  “Linda, we went to school with him at Fresno State”.  I panic.  Why did I even tell the ex?  I keep forgetting that no.  We are not friends.  We have two kids together, but I can’t be around him more than an hour until I’m reminded of the reasons that we are not together.  So, I go off of eHarmony.  I’m too afraid to get in a dating pool so close to home.  I had already gotten word that the guy had closed the match because I had no picture. 

Then I start thinking.  Hey, why don’t I go back on, put on a picture, and wait for this guy to be matched with me?  Okay sounds like a great plan.  I even use a different name.  In the interim, my ex husband goes to an ag meeting, and asks an old college pal of ours how this guy is doing.  I hadn’t told ex that I found him on eHarmony, just that I heard *D* was single, etc.  I’m quite sure that he would skewer me over hot coals if he found out I had tried that.  Even once.

So. The guy and I are matched.  We start the process.  I pay the money.  $45 for 3 months.  I say to myself.  I’m only going on there for this particular person.  So, we exchange must haves, can’t stands, questions, etc., and he finally sends me an email.  I’m thinking this is going along smoothly.  Until I read the email. 

Hi L!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

How are you??????????????????

Goooooooooooooooooood morning!!!!!!!!!!!!

Are you getting the picture?  I looked in horror at the email.  I thought perhaps he really was excited is all.  Until I get the next one.  And the next one.  There is an over abuse of punctuation that even I cannot stomach.  Finally, I call him…and this is where the story ends.  During the course of the conversation, I realize that he is on eHarmony because he wants a relationship.  And, I don’t.  I don’t.  Not yet.  Not until I am different.

I was able to say no thank you.  I was able to bow out gracefully.  He continued to send me an over abuse of punctuation.

Let me know if you want to have coffee…………………………………………………

And, while I know that I start sentences with “and, but and because”,  I’m no over-punctuator…and I can’t have one in my life.  However, the truth is this:  Online dating is not for me.  It’s not.  Because if I’m attracted to anyone, I can make all your faults work, and you mine.  Getting a recipe for matching doesn’t work for THIS girl, because I am outside the box.  I can’t even really explain myself. 

His last email:

I’d love to meet just as friends if you want to get together.  Let me know.  Just call me.

Very little punctuation.  Just like I like it.

I contacted eHarmony.  They gave me a one time pass on paying the last two installments.  I call this, my $45 experiment.  The next time I meet someone, it will have to be random and sporadic and nonsensical.  Non linear and not rational.  Because…my heart…my heart just doesn’t fit on a profile.

In The Interim…

May 20, 2010

Ms V. gym 2 Comments

For the last few weeks, I haven’t been in official training.  I’ve been doing these very weird things, having me in the gym at 5am.  In the morning.  AM.

For 7 years, every morning, I would head down to the gym and do 30 minutes of elliptical (*yawn*), and 30 minutes of *strength*.  Every morning, 6 days a week.  You get to know all the scoop in my small town, because that’s when the farmers go to the gym.  It seems as if  I always knew who I would have to fight for a certain machine, and I was always secretly glad when I got there ahead of this one guy…I liked pissing him off at 5am.  But, I digress.

So, June 1 will start training for Marine Corps Marathon.  In the meantime…

  • Spin Class.  Sweaty, good fun, but um, where are we going?  Nowhere.  We are sweating all over the floor.
  • Yoga.  My favorite class, but I go in thinking: This is so easy.   And, halfway through I’m sweating.  All over the floor.
  • Stair Master.  Not the fun elliptical kind that moves you the way it wants to.  This is some Jacob’s laddery type thing invented by Satan himself.  And I have a 35 minute routine that has me sideways, backways, double stepping, whatEVER.  And I sweat.  All over the handles.  And the floor.
  • Spin-Yoga days.  Where I do both.
  • Running 3 days a week.

My thighs feel like steel metal.  My coach assures me that they are supposed to feel this way.  I know I’m a girl…but secretly, I LIKE feeling like IronMan.  Just for a little bit.

I’m 51. Who knew?

May 17, 2010

Ms V. 50 years old, running 8 Comments

News flash:  Ms. V is 51 years old.

Now, I know what you’re thinking:  “Hey, didn’t you like milk this totally back in February?  Why on May 17th have you suddenly revealed your age…?”

Well, it’s like this.  I train and run primarily via the social networking of Twitter and this blog.  I talk to a LOT of people during the day about running, training, injuries, etc.  And, last week, I was re-reading the LA Marathon posts from March.  I found myself crying, and reliving it AGAIN.  Enough already.  really.

I didn’t even realize what I have been subconsciously doing:  Comparing myself to the fitness levels of people generally in their 30s.  I did NOT even realize this.  Because I ran Bay to Breakers this weekend, and it was hard at first, and I was in an 11 min. mile zone, and I was starting to beat myself up.  Then came Hayes Hill, and it was long, and I didn’t have time for negative self talk.  Just needed to get over the thing.  After mile 3, it was generally downhill and gloriously misty.  I focused not on the negative, but foot turnover, and getting in more footstrikes on the ball of my foot instead of the heel.  Oh, and watching naked runners.  That was fun too.

I chatted with my coach online last week, and he said “Call me”.  We started talking about leaving the past behind, and that this training cycle I was going to have a clean slate.  Bringing nothing but experience from the past.  So, around Mile 5, I started to think…Clean Slate…Clean Slate….

I finished with about a 1:30 minute PR from the first time I did a 12K in the spring of 2008.  I thought it would be so much better.  SO MUCH.  And, while people are generally happy with a PR, I wanted a 10 MINUTE PR.  I wasn’t feeling all excited or anything, but just ever so slightly felt the running bug come back.  When I got home, I saw the results…

VERY happy with this placement.

Top 11.9% 50-59 yr olds

Top 19.4% female

Top 28.8% finishers overall

When I saw these results, I started realizing:  I’m 51.  Look at this.  Top 12%?  That means that 88% of all the people in that age group finished AFTER me.  That 80% of the women finished AFTER me.  That 71% of EVERYONE finished AFTER me. 

And, while I’m not 30, I am starting to appreciate and embrace my experience, and yes…age.

  • I am a living textbook to my students.
  • I remember watching the Man Land on the Moon in 1969.  Live.
  • I have been in my profession almost 30 years, and love that I’m not defined by it.
  • I can share motivation with my kids because I have BEEN MOTIVATED to change.
  • I know what it’s like to be married, living with, divorced.  I like not being a child.
  • I have run 2 marathons.  At age 50. 

This may not be a newsflash to any of you…but I’m 51 years old…and I am getting better every day.

Sobriety is Everything

May 14, 2010

Ms V. sobriety 5 Comments

I don’t often blog about my sobriety.  It’s not that it’s personal, it’s just that I have very little left of the action part of sobriety to blog about it.  Those in recovery will understand this. 

However, last weekend, my Grandsponsor, C. came to speak in a small town closeby.  Oakdale is 30 miles to the east of my town, and my town has 15000 in it, and is super small.  So, for months we knew he was coming, and my girls and I were pretty excited about it.  My sponsor had given me direction as to getting his hotel room ready, picking him up…

Three of us picked him up at the airport, and I was so excited I could hardly stand it.  Here was a man I intently listened to at the First Yosemite Conference in 1984, who’s tape I played no less than 100 times, who gave the best talk on alcoholism I’ve ever heard.  I remember sitting at that conference with Sheryl.  I can hear her laugh on that tape, and she like so many others, has gone out and drank, and I never saw her again.  Like Rita, who was in my wedding, and the last time I was with her was at her funeral, talking to her kids about how much she loved them.  Because they had a good idea, and it ended up with a drink.

We got him in the car, delivered him to the Oakdale Group, but they were busy.  So we got to be with him all day. The stories he told, the love and I respect I had, the time talking about important AA topics like anonymity, self centeredness, group politics…everything.  I soaked it all up, moment by moment.  It’s really hard to even write about it, because it was so personal to me.  I love my sponsor so much; her direction has saved my life, when I was ready to drink at 25 years of sobriety.  6 years later, I’m having the best time.  I’ve lost everything, but gained everything.  She taught me to have a relationship with her, to be honest…true.  She gave me what C. gave her.

So, I’m sitting out in the freezing wind last Saturday night, listening to him talk.  It was the 75th anniversary of a huge moment in AA history, where Bill W. was at the hotel:  Cocktail sign on one side, and the phone booth and church directory on the other.  And, Bill made the phone calls that finally resulted in meeting Dr. Bob, and the birth of Alcoholics Anonymous.  C. speaks as though you are there.  We were outside on a lawn at a school.  But, you could have heard a pin drop.  I listened to him tell the same stories I’ve heard for 31 years.  About how alcoholics have to understand they have a problem with drinking.  And with sobriety.  That’s why we have a first step.  My life is unmanageable, with or without drinking.

And when it was over, I knew I touched just a bit of AA history.  I don’t even really know how to explain or write about it.  I have a small group, 3 meetings in my town.  My sponsor and grandsponsor’s home group has 1000 people in it, every Wednesday night in Los Angeles.   And yet, it all starts the same way.  With one drunk, talking to another.

It will make no sense.  But.  I am sober, and I get to pass it on.  Every day.

Anatomy of a Funk

May 7, 2010

Ms V. running 5 Comments

I hereby declare this funk.  Over.  Kim and I ran 6 miles a few weeks ago.  I thought it was over, because I ran it.  Then I stopped running again.  I stayed up late, ate bad food.  Hung out with friends and didn’t one time lay out workout clothes.

So, my coach just stayed away.  Sent me a plan.  But not a lot of talk about it.  Just let me dangle.

This week, I missed the spin class I was supposed to go to.  Slept through the alarm.  The next day, 4 miles was on the plan.  Texted Kim and she promised to come over at 5:30am and not leave until I came out of the house.  She got there, and I got up, and we started walking to our mile start. 

…and the first song that comes on my playist is “Hit the Road Jack”, which is my coach’s ring tone.  Started running.  Bohemian Rhapsody comes on.  Sexy Bitch.  Reminders of Ali & S on Twitter.  I keep running and realized something.

In one year, I’ve run 5 half marathons and 2 marathons.  I have nothing to be ashamed of.  I worked damned hard for those.  I have unfinished business with the marathon, but had been in this “You’re a loser” funk for so long, I never thought I would conquer it.

So.  My first marathon at age 50.  All those races.  Just look at what we’ve done.  And as I was running, my legs woke up to the fact that we have more work to do.

Funk. Over.

I am the blogging world’s Ryan Hall

May 1, 2010

Ms V. Marine Corps Marathon, Team LaLa 2 Comments

You know how everyone waits on baited breath to hear which marathon that Ryan Hall will do?  You know…is it New York or Chicago or Boston…and you wait, and it’s exciting if he happens to be covering the same ground you will…because you know, you’re not an elite, but dammit…you’re a runner.

Yesterday, I bit the bullet, and picked.  I will be running The Marine Corps Marathon on October 31st.  Here is the reason why…maybe you can understand my logic and explain it to my mother who was NOT happy because I’m spending money on a ticket and why does it have to be so far away, and couldn’t it be closer…etc., etc.  She is supportive to the bone, but we had issues.

Here’s how this went down.  In this post, I asked fellow bloggers and tweeters to give me feedback on good marathons, all of which cost $600 to round trip it.  I had lots of great feedback.  TONS.  Earlier in the month, I had toyed with MCM, but was afraid of the party, and you know, the distraction by the Marines.  Not proud, but it’s true.  I talked with my coach, who pointed me to a quiet little Philadelphia marathon.  I had Portland, Steamtown, Route66. I even found Fire Mountain, which has an 1800 feet ascent.  Um no.  Hell to the no.

What is all came down to was my sister.  My littlest sister Laura is 42 years old, and has a very severe form of Brittle Type 1 Diabetes.  In addition, she also has Addisons.  All last week I made it a personal mission to find a marathon where I could raise money for Diabetes.  The ADA has Tour for the Cure, but no marathon.  One guy runs for Team Diabetes in Canada.  Finally, I found the Diabetes Action Team, a charity that raises money for research.  I did my homework.  I called, I emailed, I researched this charity.  They are legit, and have been at MCM since 2004.  This helped me decide which marathon to do.  So.  Now ya know.

AGAIN:  Ms. V. IS DOING MARINE CORPS MARATHON

If you want to donate, or be on my team, it’s a small fundraising commitment.  Contact me in the email button on right, and you can join me on this journey!!  Team LaLa ROCKS!

PS. There will be Marines.

 

 

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