3 nice notes and a few reasons to keep keeping on.

Good morning!

Every once in a while I get too busy to write too much. Thus, I ask myself: “What’s the point and why am I doing this and should I continue or give it up?”

'Cause srsly, I'm tired.
‘Cause srsly, I’m tired.

Continue reading 3 nice notes and a few reasons to keep keeping on.

Advertisements

A series of odd correspondence

Every change if season seems to accelerate the pace of life.

What gives?

I wanted to jot down notes on life before work today.

I’ve got about 15 minutes. Then Laila’s gonna wake up hollarin’ for cereal. Buddy’s already creepin’ at my feet trying to get my attention.

First off, Eli’s cough.

Continue reading A series of odd correspondence

Fine, I admit it. I signed up for a marathon. I’m doin’ it for me, for buddy and also — pie.

Like hanging from a rope in a silo, a marathon may have not been the best idea. That doesn't mean I'm not going to do it.
Like hanging from a rope in a silo, signing up for marathon may have not been the best idea. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to do it.
About five months ago, I signed up for a marathon.

This seemed like a really good idea at the time. Mark was on fall break. He took the kids north to see cousins, aunties, uncles and grandma and gramps. I relished the alone time for about two days before I got really bored.

A marathon popped into my head as a project that might occupy me. I messaged my friends who run marathons to get feedback on whether or not a schlep like me could handle 26.2. To my horror, they thought this was a wonderful idea, that I would be able to do it.

I’m not the marathon type — I swear.

I signed up any way.

I remembered I have two children under four, a spouse and a home.

Then it dawned on me that I’ve got a career. And, a weekend job. And lots of goals, and laundry. Dishes, no dishwasher.

Marathon, riiight.

I printed out a novice training schedule and stuck it on my refrigerator. I taped one to my desk at work.

All these months, I’ve been plodding along, slowly, slowly, one foot in front of the other. I squeeze runs into my lunch break and set aside a hunk of time each Sunday for ‘the long run.’

The long run.

The long run, more than anything else, has me asking why. Why am I putting myself through this? Why? Why? Whhhhhyyyyyyyyyyyy?!?!

Of course, I had goals in mind when I signed up.

Namely, tying a fundraising effort to this run for the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation’s spring push.

Also, I ate a lot of steak and icecream whilst pregnant. I’ve still got a coupla New York Strips and maybe like a few pints of Ben & Jerry’s just kinda …. lingering.

I’ve got a lot going on, and if I appear together here on this blog, it’s not an entirely accurate representation of me. Running has long helped me shed mental fat: stress. I have to exercise to keep my head on straight in this topsy turvy world.

I’m happier when I’m running.

All of these things are fine and good, I thought to myself around mile 6 today. I’m running for my son! And also, fitness. And also, stress relief! WOOOOO. Then around mile 9, I realized, that this @#$%’s getting old. At 10, my legs felt like lead. To distract myself from the sheer physical torture, I thought about writing about this run, this marathon. But, in what way? Where does this story fit into the scheme of things? What tired out old cliche story line and I going to project here — running for weight loss, for mental health, in honor or someone, for a cure? All of those things are true, yes, but the stories have been told thousands of times. I was on mile 11 it struck me:

PIE. Pie, glorious pie.

You know what got me through the last three miles? The thought of a sweet and delicious piece of pie after my run.

Should I go fried? A classic cherry? Apple — or how about Dutch apple. I could practically taste it.

Yes, I may have an altruistic goal driving the idea that I can run a marathon — but I’m going to need more than that when I’m huffing and puffing after a dozen miles. Even my health goals, born from a combination of vanity and necessity, aren’t going to get me through mile 12, 13… and on.

I’m going to stop kidding myself and just admit it: I am motivated by baked goods.

While I do plan to do this as a fundraiser, and hopefully shed some Haagen Dazs and tenderloin, and maintain mental strength and clarity, I would also like to use this marathon as an excuse to eat more pie. Probably a lot more pie.

Think about it:

How much better does a treat like pie make some bland or monotonous obligation, like a mandatory meeting. It goes from “Meh, meeting, ug,” to “OOOOOOh baked goods!” Replace meeting with 15-mile run. Yeah, there, you get it.

What pies are out there that I haven’t yet tried? My God, there is a whole world of pie yet to be discovered. I always thought of pie as a special occasion food. I’m throwing that out idea the window. GONE.

Pie embodies happiness better than any other baked good. Don’t even try to argue.

Plus, I need it to run, that pie on a stick.

Of course, I had this grand idea on a Sunday, when nary a pie joint is open in OKC. Bake my own? HAHA. It hasn’t yet come to that.

This week, Mark, Laila, Eli and I will venture into a new world, the world of pie, together.

We’ll each take a big bite, and smile.