ECLIPSE

last sunday, i layed on the driveway trying not to move. i wore two pairs of sunglasses and waited for the solar eclipse. a solar eclipse occurs when the moon travels between the earth and the sun. as the moon covers the sun, the sky grows progressively darker. the sun, however, is bigger than the moon and even when the moon is centrally located in front of the sun, there is still light and the promise that the moon will continue to travel until it no longer covers the sun. as i watched this happen in the sky, i thought about the marathon i had completed the morning prior and the lessons i needed to learn from it. my achy body melted into the concrete as i tried to remember how i found myself at that starting line. months ago, some friends and i registered and began planning for the ogden marathon. we knew that training for a spring marathon would require lots of miles while being exposed to the winter elements. we would need to outfit ourselves with the right layers in order to protect ourselves from the cold. generally, winter training pace is slowed due to icy conditions, clothing restriction, and frigid temperatures impacting blood flow and movement. it is the hope that after months of running in those temps and those layers that shedding them come race day will bring relief from the restrictions of all winter entities and allow for a faster pace. last friday, four of us covered some drive-time miles together on i-15 while sharing the current state of our individual element-impacted lives and we expressed our gratitude for the comraderie and support we have shared while bi-pedal on the roads. we also nervously bantered in regards to our worries and expectations about what we could accomplish the next day on the course. it is difficult to predict performance in any race but seemingly impossible when training has been less than ideal as well as plagued with injury, illness, and dramatic life changes. the only variable we knew for certain was that we agreed we would support individual choice in pace and finish times and there would never be pressure to run someone elses race and no matter what, we would consider the adventure for what it was...an adventure. and, of course, we were grateful to be sharing whatever misery ensued with each other. the next morning we huddled together in a field of fire barrels and nervous runners and discussed which layers we would keep and which we would discard and where we would wait for one another at the finish. after we removed our extra clothing and tossed our numbered bags into the transport vehicle we walked together to the start corral and just sort of ended up behind the 3:35 pace group and waited for the gun to sound. my friends and i followed the race course closely together for about nine miles before any significant pace changes started to occur and the effects of the last few months took over. as women and moms and wives we tend to feel the aches and pains of those we care about until they become part of us and running, on our own or together, is a way for us to use our physicality to help manage those feelings and responsibilities. while the marathon training serves a congruent purpose for all of us, each of us responds differently to those daily stresses. some of us run until we feel lifes anxieties drip away with the sweat. some of us run to keep the chaos from stopping our movement altogether. all of us run for the support and the friendship and the emotional strength that grows as our capacity for endurance builds. the race was tough for all of us and we tested ourselves beyond what, according to our training, we should have been able to achieve. missed training runs, illness, and injury have eclipsed our lives over the last while and we felt restricted by those extra layers. for some, the weight of responsibilites and resulting emotional struggles impacted physicality and restricted ability to move fast. for another, physical pain from chronic injury left a mental limp that seemed impossible to bear. for me, my "race day brain" forced me to outrun my inadequecies and push for physical rather than emotional pain. in the end, we all reached the finish line of this tough challenge and though it may have felt like a disappointment i would remind us that, one way or another, we got there. and in some ways the elements that impacted our movements actually set us free and made us more resilient. we faced an obvious opponent and kept moving until we conquered it. lets not forget that while the layers we wear in winter are restrictive, they still protect us from the cold. and that day, the lessons we learned about ourselves and each other will benefit us when facing future endeavors. i challenge us all to remember what it is about each of us that drove us to register and commit to training in the first place and that that is what is most important. regardless of anything that happened after that moment we need to remember we had what we needed to take on this course and overcome lifes challenges then and we still have it. and like the sun, we are bigger than the moon and while we may feel overshadowed and struggle in the darkness at times there is still light and the promise that the moon will continue to travel until it no longer covers the sun.

iron will

after i ran my first marathon i was afraid of what my body would feel like with each and every movement.  it hurt bad enough just to take one step after another but to introduce stairs, worse down than up, or heaven forbid, to brave a toilet seat was beyond any self-induced physical pain heretofore experienced.  the word excruciating, honestly, does not seem like an overstatement.  the only thing worse than continuing to move after having run a marathon is starting to move again once you have stopped. as a fitful sleeper in normal conditions i struggled with each involuntary movement and was awakened by my sister holding a dose of motrin and bottle of water.  "take these honey", she said, "you are whimpering in your sleep"  later that day i traveled home to my family who was in the process of moving into a new house.  this required me to lug boxes and furniture out of a storage unit, into a u-haul, and then into my house, up and down stairs and into individual rooms.  i remember feeling such different extremes in the emotional fulfillment of having completed my first marathon and excitement about a new house while concurrently suffering almost overwhelming physical pain.  the conversion of these polar opposites and the intensity at which they spotlight the other remains in my arsenal of things learned while pushing my body to new limits and, i admit, is something i occasionally seek after through athletic endeavors.

not everyone can relate athletically but most everyone has experienced these extremes through challenges forced upon us by life.  as a family, as well as a community we are suffering the tragic loss of a 12 year old boy who died suddenly.  this boy positively impacted so many in his life and continues to in death as his young healthy organs have been harvested and implanted into bodies that have been desperately seeking miracles.  as a mother to my own 12 year son and as the wife of a man who has coached and mentored the football team this boy belongs to, i wonder how this team will process and continue forward.  jimmy has been known to tell his boys that football is just a game that teaches them about life and prepares them for the future. he stresses camaraderie and teammate support, hard work and fundamentals, and is the first one to get down on one knee to personally thank each player for bringing their individual talents to their team and onto the field for each game of the season.  jimmy was called to go down to the middle school and talk to his team as many of these players asked for him rather than talking to the available counsellors and these boys sat in a circle of unity with him as they laughed and cried and ached for their lost teammate. jimmy explained that this cycle of extreme emotions is normal and could persist for a while. and he aches greatly for his team.

i ache for them as well and i wish i could tell them that, with time, their healing will come.  and that through their athletic endeavors they are learning about life and preparing for their futures and that sometimes life involves a great deal of pain but if they pay attention they can also experience to most amazing bits of greatness, too. but, it never comes until after we have scattered and shared our emotional clutter on the trail/road/field as we open up and push ourselves further than we imagined until we reach  a space of physical and spiritual freedom. it is difficult, though, to remember and impossible to explain just how much further a body blessed with a strong mental fortitude can continue forward even after extreme fatigue sets in. it can just keep finding ways to progress forward. and sometimes, the simplest things can keep one moving. a small handful of hot, salty, fries handed to me by a friend through their car window carried me over the last few miles of my first official 50 mile road race. and when i crossed that finish line i knew that though my battered body had covered the ground from lower mesa falls to driggs, my spirit had traveled much further and i felt free.

with any situation, we have to continue forward one step at a time to make it through. we can't stop moving before we get to the finish line and a football game is not complete until the fourth quarter ends and we have to do what we need to do to carry on and get there.  we have to feed our bodies with the fuel required to make it function properly and we have to feed our souls with community. we have to pay attention to the positives that get spotlighted even though we might ache like mad. and we have to remember that most often this process takes time and perseverance and endurance and a little motrin and maybe a few salty french fries from a friend at mile 45. and we have to know that it is easier to keep moving than it is to stop and start up again.  but most of all, we have to believe that we can do it and we have to extend a hand in camaraderie and we have to build up an iron will to succeed.

upside down

i got a call from ty's teacher last week asking for us to come in and have a meeting with her and the school's principle regarding ty's escalating impulse control and disrespect issues.  we met to discuss how we, as a team, can help him be successful with the social energies that school and life requires.  he is exceptionally bright and requires a little bit more to keep him occupied.  his current issues stem from the fact that he, as our youngest child, either gets overly mothered or picked-on and it is confusing for him.  he is, and always has been, very quickly reactive.  he's fun to tease...his response is big and the playground kids love watching him get all worked up.  ty is also fiercely independent and keenly aware of his personal preferences and he has recently begun refusing to participate in things he doesn't like and this has become difficult for his teacher to manage.

as with most of life's complications i take the situation and i turn it around in my head until i can separate my personal responsibility and formulate a plan of action for my future influence.  i have struggled this week trying to figure out the history and the progression of events that have lead to where we are now.  not because the history is necessarily challenging but because i am forced to accept my responsibility and my short-comings as a parent.  i am keenly aware of my inadequacies of late.

i took ty climbing yesterday for some one-on-one time.  ty is very strong and knows how to isolate and use his muscles.  he has run almost 100 miles this school year during his tuesday and thursday recesses at school. and the kid has six-pack abs!   while i watched ty climb i worked on a route that progresses out of a shallow cave.  hanging from the ceiling forces better technique in order to conserve enough strength and energy to complete the route.  i have to focus hard on using my core muscles and good hip movement to alleviate some of the pressure on my hands and my forearms.  and i really have to trust and allow my confidence to perpetuate movement to the next hold.  otherwise, it's too overwhelming to hang upside down.

today, izzy and i had a handstand contest and it reminded me of my dad and how he used to walk on his hands across the yard.  as a child of an alcoholic and the oldest boy of 9 kids i doubt he was ever told how physically strong he could become and how that physical strength would benefit him mentally and socially for so many years. i wish i knew what the catalyst was for his athletic endeavors.

as i process and turn these events over in my head it occurs to me that while i have spent time this week, both physically and figuratively, upside down, it really will be ok and the pull of the gravity is beginning to seem less overwhelming.  i can work with ty, little by little, and help him use positive physical pursuits to engage his mind and avoid boredom.  i can encourage him to allow his core strength and his new techniques to alleviate some of the pressure he feels when pushed by others.  i can teach him to be confident and trust that doing something he doesn't want to do does not make him less tough or less independent.  and i can tell him that using his hands (like his grandpa) to travel over the earth is a better pursuit than making a fist.

and i can put my arms around him and tell him that, no matter what, i love him.

jan 15th, 2012

jimmy took this picture of me and the kids and the mountains and posted it on facebook.  upon seeing it, a friend of his asked if we ever get "used" to seeing the mountains.  we don't. i don't.  i am mesmerized by them and i feel a magnetic pull from them at times. there is a trail that i have run so often i could cover it in the dark.  the trail is worn and smooth and familiar. however, there is one section that is rocky and slick and requires one to slow down and consider each footfall carefully to avoid injury.  after the rocks have been negotiated, the trail narrows and the trees close in almost like a tunnel and the sounds of the wind and the birds and my breathing boomerang off those trees and come back to me.  it's almost as if i can feel their notes tickle the fine hairs on my neck and cool the sweat on my skin.  my heartbeat and my cadence are fast in this section and, though my footsteps are light, i feel firmly connected to the earth.  this part of the trail winds and rolls and descends until it crosses a creek and finds a gravel access road. 
i once heard that the seventh year of anything is the most difficult.  i'm not sure why but it seems, to me, to have been the case in my life.  during the seventh year of my marriage, i miscarried and delivered a baby at 17 weeks gestation and lost my dad to suicide.  i am now currently in the seventh year post dad and baby loss and some days i find myself on rocky terrain taking uncertain steps forward.  not only am i dealing with cluttered chaos on the trail, in relation to those losses, but the people that i love are experiencing the jagged and slick parts of me as i process and i notice them guarding their steps a bit.  i need to resolve, and let go, some of those issues so as not to alienate them further.

while travelling the gravel road, the elevation rolls and climbs until it reaches the junction of several different roads.  a junction is defined as an act of joining two or more things together or a place where two things meet and one terminates.  this particular junction provides access to several different roads and trails to choose from but usually, at this point in my travels i know that i just have a couple of quick downhill miles to get back to where i started.
i think we all have moments where, for one reason or another, we are unable to put our best foot forward.  it's part of life, right?  i need to remember that on my trail and in my life the difficult rocky sections,when smartly negotiated, lead directly into those cushy spaces that allow me to just move and feel free and be supported by the earth.  i need to remember that upon encountering junctions it is ok to follow one path and it is , sometimes, necessary to let another trail terminate and i need to remember that if i keep moving forward and do my best to stay connected to the earth i will be rewarded with a couple of quick downhill miles and the reverberation of my own breathing off the trees.

girls night out

my friend darla needed a quick adventure so the two us of took our matching daughters and headed to lava.  the grown up girls chatted in the front of the beefy diesel hoggin pick-up truck while the littles channelled taylor and miley in the backseat.  we ate salad and pizza like princesses at the royal and checked into a hotel called home.  we soaked in varying degrees of heat at the hot springs and hid in the steam rising from the water and i layed on the cold concrete next to the hottest pool and watched the stars.  the thing i liked about alternating between the heat of the pool and the frigid concrete is that i had to focus on my breathing to manage the extremes.   we ate ice cream, listened to the trains, channelled some adele and went to bed early.

in the a.m. with bits of my very seldom used anti-anxiety/sleep aidnecessary to undo too many sleepless nights of late still on board i pulled on olivia's fake ugg boots and went for a hike in my pajamas.

 i walked passed the idaho centennial trail sign and crossed this engineering marvel of a bridge...

 i turned and viewed the hot springs and my sleeping girls at "home" as i ascend this trail and laughed when i heard 3 loud whistle blowing trains travel through town  before 8 a.m.  it reminded me of my cousin vinny!

 i surprised some viciously aggressive llamas near this tree.  not sure how i escaped them...i was too scared to take a picture

 there were some aspects where the ground was bare but mostly my trail was covered in icy snow.  this is a flat section. many were not so easy to cover due to the steepness.

 don't blame me for the life-less grey and brown as i have been praying for snow for all i'm worth for months.  i think i am being humbled...

 i did watch this happen and the extremes reminded me to breathe, again.  happy saturday!

hiking down was a little bit dicey, as i figured it would be given my footwear, and i had a couple of tushy-meet-the-ground moments but only one slide-off-the-trail-and-roll-into-the-buck-brush-experiences.  thank goodness for eating like a princess and providing my self plenty-o-padding.  may need a spine adjustment or a massage later...

note to self: you are normally well prepared for all eventualities, which is why your pack is always a little too heavy. take your boots next time! the good news is, you now know that barefoot running is not for you.  phewww!  thank goodness you never have to wear them, those vibrams are so hideous...

after a great breakfast, omelets, pancakes and belgium waffles, at johnny's restaurant we climbed into the diesel and left the home hotel and headed north.  thanks darla, izzy and marin for the perfect girls night out!

December 15, 2011

last sunday would have been josh's 33rd birthday.  normally, i am not one to stress over or commemorate those dates but recent events wore down my protective shell and the december 11th sunrise siphoned away my sunday morning serenity.  thoughts and empathy for the shocked families of a broken little girl with a heart too weak to overcome her lifelong illness, a devastated mother searching for her son lost to conspiracy theories, mental illness and meth, and a kind family man accidentally trapped and damaged and ultimately lost to those injuries consumed me and rubbed raw the callouses i have formed to protect myself from my own losses.  knowing the challenges, the questions, and the sadness these families will encounter opened old wounds and made them feel new again and i had to decide how i would tend to my injuries and which direction i would take to minimize my misery and to provide aide for these families.

i went for a walk in the woods today.  the new fluffy snow, while beautiful and sparkly in the sunshine, was not deep enough to fill the ruts and the uneven ground worked my ankles.   i hiked up a trail i have covered many times and, for most of my climb, i followed two sets of tracks.  i used the indents of these ski tracks to determine my direction while my mind processed and purged.  at first, as i walked between this pair of tracks, i felt isolated and inadequate.  i couldn't manage the ground they covered together and my wide, clunky footfalls didn't match their sleek, skinned skis.  and, for some reason, this made me feel small and lonely.  it occurred to me that this feeling of weakness was not due to being alone on the trail but more a result of the situation that occurred the night prior and it was just being played out in front of me through physical means in order to force me to evaluate my emotional needs.  while attending a basketball game i had seen my neighbor and had given her a hug but when our eyes connected, i could not separate her fresh widowhood status and her shock from my own abandonment and loss and for a moment i could not remember how to breathe, let alone come up with words to provide her some comfort.  i walked away fighting the panic and the sobs rising in my throat and it took a few minutes to regain the confidence required to take another breath and another step.  after a few minutes, i regained some composure and was able to enjoy the game instead of simply focusing on how to keep oxygen moving through my bloodstream. 

after a few minutes though, both at the game and on the hill side, i began to feel some security from the support of those who inhabited these spaces before me, those who share the space i currently occupy,  and those who had travelled this trail prior to my arrival and, even with the diversity of life experiences and modes of transport, a feeling of safety emerged and i knew i could move forward.  i had too.  what other choice is there?   it was in that place in my emotional train of thought that the tracks i had been following veered to the left of my tentatively chosen route and i stood still for a moment debating whether i should continue to follow or go off on my own.  following the tracks had become too comfortable and the risk of going somewhere i didn't want to go was increasing and because i wanted to climb higher, i chose to follow the un-tracked trail to the right and continue up the hillside on my own.  as i hiked, i began to hear birds.  lots of them.  i stopped short for a moment to consider the disconnect as this chorus is more indicative of springtime and i wondered if these birds were as confused as i was. i determined, however, that they sounded happy and this made me smile and my wounds began to slowly heal themselves and that weight, so centered on the middle of my soul, began to lift and my eyes cleared allowing me to see more clearly.  as i moved forward, i saw several deer running through the woods and later, a bull moose that stood and stared at me for a few minutes.  making eye contact with this large animal, in his habitat, created a feeling of stillness for me and i felt like i belonged there, too.  i had moved, bravely forward, on my own after the ski tracks moved to the left and i was quickly rewarded with the knowledge that i was not alone and i was being protected.

i have often felt like one of the "gifts" we are sometimes given in the midst of trial and loss is the ability to recognize the gifting while it is happening.  not surprisingly, we tend to be so overwhelmed by the experiences that catch and injure us that it feels like all we can do is manage to take one breath and one step after another in order to survive and anything else is just too much.  but, for me, even when i feel my most alone and my most insecure, looking for what i am being given, in that moment, helps.  if i could go back to the corridor outside that ballgame with that brave sad wife and if i could share with all those that are suffering significant losses i would tell them to look for the little gifts and allow them to ease the weight, if only for a few minutes, and to let these gifts remind us that we are not alone.

what would you put in your God Box?

for my job as well as in my life i talk to a lot of people, or rather, a lot of people talk to me.  there is something about the physical closeness of patient care and removing skin cancers that seems to create a safe environment for sharing.  i hear stories of illness and struggles, insecurities and losses. and, i am reminded that i am not the only one.

usually, i wonder what their method of healing is and often, when i ask, the answer is some version of prayer and perseverance.   and with that, there is hope for eventual change and peace.  sometimes, however, i can see the impact of the trials sitting on their shoulders and their features drag from burden.  i am sensitive to it, i think, because the look of it is something i have seen before.  i saw it on my dad during the last year of his life as the weight of his issues seemed to compress him until he even appeared smaller than his actual frame would allow and i see it on other people i care about as i watch them navigate life.

i went run/walking with a friend one morning and, in the dark, we talked about life and watched the stars.  we chattered about the basic fluffy stuff that keeps us busy and we stayed away from any real topic that would require energy to process.  she and i both, though our issues vary greatly, normally relieve our occasional bouts of emotional stress through physical means but presently, the health and strength of our bodies has limited our ability to do that.  so, for that day, we tabled the insecurities, the losses, and the economy and we moved toward Cassiopeia and around to Ursa Major and we sent those unspoken thoughts to the sky and by the time we were back to Orion, we were home again.

the stars used to be the only way for people and sailors to navigate and find their way home.  as technology has advanced and modern conveniences have been developed, though, this practice is rarely used and i find this a bit unfortunate.  in some ways, the invention of the light bulb, while immensely valuable, impacts one's ability to even see the stars.  people, in populated areas with big city lights, may not notice how bright the stars can really be.  as a country girl, i often slept outside and gazed at the stars and knew that someone great must have made them twinkle and fall for me. and now, as an adult, i find myself seeking the stars and their creator when i am stressed and in need of comfort.  there is something about viewing the expanse of the universe that creates a diametric feeling of closeness to me.  it's like i can see the space the constellations fill circled around me and i feel safe.

when i think about the people in my life and those i encounter at work, i hope they have or can find something that brings them peace.  there are portions of our troubles that, no matter what we do, we have no ability to control or to make them right through our own endeavors, especially, when our history and past circumstances impact our present.  somehow, though it is difficult, we all have to figure out how to let go of certain items of insecurity in order to move on and let new things in.  for me, i have to turn off the chaos by turning off the lights so that i can see the stars and their creator more clearly.  for others, however, it may not be that simple.

someone i know recently bought themselves a special box to put their troubles in.  a receptacle to place the panic in that only God can possibly resolve.  it's important, i believe, when times are tough and faith is challenged to have something tangible that allows one to physically give away those unsettling fears to an unseen being and ask Him to remove them from you.  for many, without that box to put their hands on and without the ceremony of gifting those pains to a higher power, praying just seems too far-reaching or simply may not feel like enough action to create the desired results.

that's why i feel like this box idea is genius!

so, here is my question...  What would you put in your God Box?