Almost Pleasant

It's been a hectic summer. I haven't written much for a variety of reasons. The main one really was due to networking computer issues that kept me off my laptop. It was just too inconvenient to wait my turn on one of the other 2 computers we have in the house!

I've also felt a bit lazy. The humidity hindered my breathing and suffocated my motivation. If I didn't get my run in before 8:00 am I knew it would be extremely difficult. In this final week of August however, I've had three good runs in a row. The first was solo, the second with my husband, and the third with my son. I was able to go early in the morning, making the workouts almost pleasant.

As the calendar turns to September, I'm looking forward to cool weather, crisp air and a renewed spirit for fitness, movement and fun.

Happy Number

Recently, I celebrated my 44th birthday. For me this number held little meaning other than my father used to tell me it was his old high school football number. I’m ashamed to say that’s all I remember. I don’t know the name of my father’s high school, I’m not clear what position he played, and I have never even seen a picture of my dad from those teen years. Maybe that’s why I cared so little; it just didn’t seem real. When I played volleyball and basketball in junior high, Dad always told me, “See if you can get number 44.” Try as I might, it was not to be – 42 was as close as I could get. Oh well, no big deal.

I decided to check Wikipedia.org to see what I could find out about my new age. I’d like to say it was due to my unquenchable thirst for knowledge and understanding, but it was mostly because I was trying to avoid doing any actual work or chores. I figured I could stall about 10 minutes if I appeared busy on the computer.

Did you know that 44 is:

- a poker game
- a name in a Mark Twain novel
- the number of famous running backs in football
(Hey, maybe Dad was a running back.)
- the name of a popular cough suppressant
- in mathematics, a happy number

Since I didn’t understand the technical definition of a happy number (snore), I decided that for me, 44 would have a special meaning. It’s not just a happy number, but also a year of life that I don’t want to take for granted. I want to take time to cherish each day; take time to listen to my sons and pay attention to what they are sharing with me. Certainly I can stop washing dishes for a minute or two as my 8 year old describes his latest Lego invention or my eldest talks web design lingo that is way over my head. I want to take time to listen to my husband and remember that he’s putting in long hours managing his firm in order for me to have the pleasure of managing our home. I want to listen to my body and be proud of my abilities to run and be active. It doesn’t matter that my figure isn’t, and probably will never be, perfect. Most importantly I want to listen to my Savior, who is preparing a place for me in His kingdom come. I want to dwell in His promises to deny any lingering doubt. And, if Dad were still alive, I’d give him a call and I’d let him know, “Hey, I’ve got your number.”

Food, Glorious Food!

Since I was a young girl, I’ve had issues with my weight. Some of it was in the genes. My mother, at eighteen years of age, was 5’1” and over 200 pounds. Also, my parents were in their forties when I was born. Back in the sixties, this was unusual. It was very much liked being raised by my grandparents. They did their best to spoil me, which in most cases meant I could eat whatever I wanted. No green vegetables for me, I liked French fries and mashed potatoes. If I wasn’t hungry for breakfast, I could eat a couple of homemade frosted brownies instead. The absolute worst “food” I was allowed to eat on a regular basis had to be grease bread. This was the white bread that my mother used for draining her fried chicken. I didn’t care much for the chicken meat, just give me a plate of skin, corn and my beloved grease bread and I was happy, happy. As the old song goes, “Mama’s lil’baby loves shortenin’ bread!” Actually, I think shortenin’ bread is spread straight from the can. Grease bread is the term post-frying. Needless to say, I was an overweight child. Now I know my parents loved me, they just didn’t know much about nutrition and they didn’t realize the damage being done, both physically and emotionally. I suffered mercilessly at the tongues of my peers. Now over thirty years later, I still have memories of their hateful taunts. Satan still brings them to life, trying almost daily to undermine my confidence and happiness.

It took many years for me to eat green foods, broiled items, fruits that weren’t drenched in heavy syrup or pudding. I’ve gone from eating everything fried and overly processed to being a lacto-ovo vegetarian, a vegan, and now finally a flexitarian. I understand that term stands for someone who is mostly vegetarian, eating whole grains and fresh produce with an occasional piece of poultry or fish added to the mix. I guess that’s not entirely true either. Since I’ve lived in Texas forever, it’s a requirement to eat an occasional piece of brisket. I’m not kidding – it’s in the State Pledge: “I vow to eat cow - smoked to tender, juicy perfection – as my carnivorous cravings shall allow.” So, I won’t turn my nose up at a BBQ plate if it’s placed before me.

All in all, I’ve come a long way since my grease bread days. I exercise regularly; running and biking and keeping up with my boys. I eat healthfully; avoiding trans fats, high fructose corn syrup and using as many fresh ingredients as possible. Most importantly, I understand that I’m wonderfully made. I’m a work of art designed by the Master of the universe who looks upon my heart. And in heaven, there will be no cellulite.

Link and Read

As a member of a local non-profit organization, I volunteered to write one of the monthly devotionals for our website. I felt inspired to write about my half marathon experience and Easter. Seems like an odd combination, huh? Check it out at www.liveitonline.org.

More later...

Pain in the . . .

Left Hip - and it really has been cramping my style if you know what I mean. I've been taking it a little easy this week, substituting Pilates for some of my weight and cardio workouts. Just trying to get all stretched out. I went for a massage today which I'm hopeful will give me some relief. I had a different therapist and she really seemed to know her stuff. She was explaining to me that runners often have tight (some name that is long and begins with an "i") muscles and that seemed to be my problem. Since I have little anatomy and physiology knowledge, I was impressed by her muscle name dropping and that she seemed to know what to do to loosen it. Time will tell.

Meanwhile, Satan has taken this opportunity to fill my mind with less than positive thoughts. "You're just being lazy. Runners run through the pain. Miss a workout and you'll be fat." It's always the same old thing, and yet it gets me every time. It takes a real effort to remember to call upon the Lord. He wants me to see myself as wonderfully as he sees me. I'm not lazy, weak or fat - I.M. Fitt

Now What?

I still don't know. My family and I are going to run the Capital 10,000 in Austin at the end of the month so I've been doing some 4 mile runs and will do longer runs on Sunday - just to keep at my current fitness level.

Life has been good here; positive, happy, healthy. I feel truly blessed and am so thankful for my husband and sons. All around me, I see the devastation caused by Satan to undermine the haven of a strong family life. He will do anything to cause suspicion and doubt among spouses and children. It can be as subtle as dirty socks on the floor to as alarming as a drug addiction. He will use anything that causes reoccurring irritation and anger. We must recognize the evil one's tactics. We must remember where true joy comes from. We must fight for our families.

Details, Details

The night before the AT&T Austin Marathon/Half-Marathon was filled with restlessness and excitement. We had to leave for Austin at 4:30am, so I should have just stayed up until then. No one slept very well.

Once we arrived and figured out where to park, we had about a mile walk to the race start area. The weather was cool but not damp, so it wasn't too bad. I had a friend along who was also running her first half-marathon. We had never trained together and she actually hadn't trained over a distance of 5 miles, but she had a super mental attitude which in the end made the difference for her.

The endless view of bodies ahead of us was really stimulating. The first five miles went so quickly. The adrenaline was really pumping and I was moving much faster than I had planned on. About mile six, my friend announced she couldn't keep going!!! I told her there's no way she wasn't finishing. We walked for a short while and then took it nice and easy the remainder of the course, walking up the extreme hills when necessary.

It's hard to describe the joyfulness and sense of release as you cross the finish line. Receiving the finisher's medal from the race personnel was so satisfying. I've been a spectator at these events before and I always felt like such a slug amongst the actual runners. Sunday, I could drink my free Powerade and take my complimentary bagel with no shame; I had earned it.

After my friend and I stretched and changed, we parked ourselves near the full marathon finish line. It was inspiring watching the participants as they summoned their last bit of energy to close out their race. As I remembered how I felt when onlookers yelled my name off my bib, I began screaming for anyone and everyone who passed. There's just something about hearing your name out loud that magnifies the kudos even more. My husband and son were even able to "high five" me as they raced by.

I could go on and on. Sunday, February 18th was a wonderful day. I'd like to express my gratitude and thankfulness to my Maker. I know that He was with me every step of the way and I couldn't have done it without Him. This accomplishment is just one of many that He has planned for me; the choice is mine to succeed.