On Wednesday I will turn 54.

In that time, I’ve run 5 marathons.

8 half marathons, and others…around 36 races.

only 10 of those before I turned 50.

When I was training for my first marathon, as the story goes,

I didn’t know I was 50.  Or that it was considered old.

and yet I trained.  On the overpasses, on the dark streets.

I didn’t know I could survive a hellish divorce in a quiet little town.

Or that I could single-handedly save my house…

This house with it’s broken dishwasher that’s suddenly started working,

the screen doors that Chet has ripped off the tracks,

the ripped gazebo, that still functions, sort of, as a place to put pool tools.

The pickets and arbor, long since their prime

and fences held up with 2 by 4s.

I was never sure that I could be enough as a single mom,

to raise two now-teenagers, and love it.  Really love it.

I was sure that as they got older they would want to live somewhere else.

With him.

And I was prepared for that, but they do not want that.  They want


And because I have no man skills to share, my harley guy has stepped in,

and is, with the boys, building a basketball hoop for the street, and has offered to help teach

the oldest to drive, and the both of them how to play real poker.

Things I couldn’t do.  Didn’t want to.

Because every boy should learn to drive a stick shift, and bet like a man.

So, what I learned is this.

You never get anything you want, unless you ask.

And.  I asked.

And just when I would get some new resolve, I would get smashed back down, and then up.


I’m in week 5 of a Mellow Half Marathon Training, which is the title of this post,

but makes no sense at all, unless you see the big picture of my life right now.

Running 3 days a week, building muscle on the others.

It’s incredibly relaxing, and even as I get up into 6 milers, which I used to carve off with panache,

I sometimes struggle.  But, I keep running.

And 54?  I’m sure it’s going to be the best year of all.

I will attempt marathon number 6 in the Fall, but for right now,

I will prove that I can again toe the line and reclaim the love I have.

The brick walls are there for a reason. The brick walls are not there to keep us out. The brick walls are there to give us a chance to show how badly we want something. Because the brick walls are there to stop the people who don’t want it badly enough. They’re there to stop the other people.–Randy Pausch

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