Ring in the love of truth and right…The year is dying in the night.

It’s hard to believe that 2009 has come and is almost gone.  In less than an hour, the new decade will arrive.

Time is an odd thing.
Ten years ago I had just entered my teenage years.
And about six hours ago, the love of my life was already existing in the new decade as his clocks struck midnight. We were literally existing in a different time.
Seven months ago I started this new blog with the hopes of collecting my racing stories and sharing the journey of triathlon. This came after five months of chasing my 2009 resolutions.  And yet somehow, time has slipped away from me again and I have barely conquered those resolutions, let alone even recap my races!

Which is why I’m not really doing that this year. Making a resolutions list that is. [Oh, I’ve already got the race season planned!) I just went back through the old blog to read through some things and realized that one year ago today I was going through the blog and doing the same thing. I suppose New Year’s Eve often finds me reflecting on the year, but I know I’m not the only one. And like every other human being out there, I have many resolutions in my head ready to try and conquer in 2010.

But this year, I want to try something different. Because really, when I think about it as I sit here with Lib and watch movies and listen to music, tonight is really just like any other night. I’ll probably stay up late and then turn in with no special thoughts or change in heart because tomorrow is simply Friday. It just happens to be January 1st, 2010. But there’s a quote I like by G.K. Chesterton that says, “The object of a new year is not that we should have a new year, but that we should have a new soul.” Therefore,I don’t really want to make a resolution list, just yet anyway. I want to spend some time reflecting and prayerfully considering this next year in terms of my soul. A new year is a new year, and it will probably have a lot of ups and downs just like this year has. I cannot change that. But what I can change is me.  And I think with that, my one resolution I really want to chase is to simply love. Because love is an act of the soul. Christ calls us to "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind'; and, 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' " (Luke 10:27). 

 
Literally, tonight isn’t much different than any other night, but figuratively it is a time where we all fall into contemplation as the night, with hoots and giggles, transforms into a brand new dawn.  And as the dawn breaks and I begin to pace my feet into a run, I’m going to love.  God, Casey, my family, my friends, life, racing, and every step that comes my way.

 

“New Year's eve is like every other night; there is no pause in the march of the universe, no breathless moment of silence among created things that the passage of another twelve months may be noted; and yet no man has quite the same thoughts this evening that come with the coming of darkness on other nights”

- Hamilton Wright Mabie

Catching Up and Counting Down

I really need to write more.
I have been filling my journal with poetry these days, so maybe some time soon I shall post some.

It's just that time of the semester. Stress, stress, no time, and more stress.
BUT 9 more days and I'm free for a few weeks.

I shouldn't be counting down, that makes everything I have to do between now and then slightly more stressful. I'm learning that grad school is really hard. However, I read yesterday that runners often find time to do more and still get everything down. It's just something running does to our brain.
Thank you running.

Oh to end on a good note (because that's how we should end everything... personally I prefer an open E) I start triathlon training in 2.5 weeks, I'm this close to being signed up for an Irongirl (20 days), and the love of my life will be home from war in two months.

God is beautiful.

Hearing the Music

There’s never been a time in my life so far, where running hasn’t helped me focus back on my faith and find solace. The whole physical aspect of it, where the pain and peace work together in rhythm, help me resync myself.  But there have been times where I’ve been burnt out. Or the times where I’m supposed I need to rest because I’ve just come off a long training period. Or the times where I’ve been injured and had to rest.  And it’s in those times when my soul has become restless. When something has been missing.

And in the past few months, I’ve found it again.

My guitar. 

I had forgotten how much playing and singing placed my soul at peace.  Like everything in my life, I am mediocre at guitar… nothing special. But there is something about calloused fingers, picks in my pocket, sheet music spread around my apartment, and the deep, harmonious worship lifted to my Maker that saves me when I need to rest.

I picked it up in high school for the heck of it… but like the mighty guy he is, God had greater plans.  So, my parents bought me the nicest, cheapest starter guitar for Christmas and I started teaching myself to play.

Fast forward two years and I land at ISU where God connects me this awesome djembe playing chick who I now call my best friend. What awesome acoustic nights we had.  That year I also met Casey, pretty much the guy I’ve always looked up too when it comes to playing music. Though he didn’t really know it, he was one of my worship partners. 
Six months later I’m sitting in the campus house messing around with my guitar and in walks Casey, along with a few other friends, with a Martin. Turns out he had gotten together with my other best friend, Cait, and they decided I needed something a little more professional if I was going to be leading worship.

Martin, as I so affectionately call him, had some great memories of worship… whether is was just stripped acoustic or leading, playing was just as much of my heart as running.

But for some reason, I stopped.  I don’t really know why, but I did, and even though I knew something was missing, I couldn’t, for the life of me this past year, manage to pick up and play. Even though I had a reason to play this summer. Cait got married a few weeks ago and wanted me to do her wedding song/worship song. But it was hard at first picking my guitar back up to learn the music.  For the first part of summer, I just played. There was no heart to it. And I struggled.

That is, until Casey stepped back into my life this summer. He was always my inspiration for playing. Probably because I just wanted to be as good as him, or maybe I just wanted to show off to him… either way, not a day goes by now where I don’t pick it up and imprint some calluses into my hands. Playing again, my heart feels peaceful. 
And I feel so blessed and honored to have been a part of Cait’s beautiful day. I should blame her really. She just HAD to ask me to play ;) I stood up there singing about how great our God is and watched in awe at how He had moved in not only her and her now-husband’s lives, but in the lives of all of my friends present that day.

 

I’ve been going to a new church these past few months and finally got up the courage last week to write on my little attendance slip that I’d like to maybe help out with worship.  I’m ready to play again. To learn again. To worship again. And tonight, I saw God move in my life.  I walked into worship practice and I was nervous and shy. The first thing the minister wanted to know is what I do. I’d told him earlier this week that I sing and play and so he invited me to come tonight and practice.  Turns out, they’re looking for a lead guitar player. Someone to have a solid rhythm matched with the vocals and harmonized with the piano. 

I love how God placed a simple ‘ole burgundy guitar in the hands of a seventeen year old gal ready to lead her to a chance to play music for Him.  Even if it is the simplest stuff.

My heart is at peace. Sometimes, all it takes is that simple step of faith because once we do that, once we trust, God equips us and moves mountains. Now I’m just waiting for Casey to get back here so one day, we can worship together again.

 

And Autumn smells like

Leaves.
Because that’s how she knew it.
And it was in the soggy crunch when
she heard ‘sometimes’.

Her midnight run collected the sounds
of the changing season. And the town ignored her. And
the music played once again. And

Love Happens.

Branded

I figured since I made it through my triathlons, and hope to turn into a lifetime hobby, why not seal the reminder deal for myself.

 

So. I was branded.

 

I have had plans since this summer to get a triathlon tattoo after I finished my races, but my plans were to incorporate it with my running tattoo on my foot. However, I decided to be bold and I wanted it to stand alone. I went for the arm.

 

I know. It’s quite visible now, even when I wear Tshirts, but its not like I walk around flexing all the time :) So it’s actually quite hidden. About the only time it will be seen is when I’m working out or wearing shorter sleeves. But I love it.

Someone asked me this week why there, and I replied, “It attests to my strengths and my heart.” By strengths, on a literal level, the tattoo hurt but so does triathloning. And I don’t just have the tattoo to have the tattoo. I have it because I finished the race. I am a triathlete. It shows what I have done, and on a figurative level for me it is what I have been through. The start of my race was the end of a part of my life and the finish line was the beginning of another. And now that’s where I am.  Chasing those finish lines.

I specifically chose my left arm because it’s closest to my heart. After all, we wear wedding bands on the left hand because the Greeks believed there was a vein that ran directly from the third finger to the heart. And triathloning is part of my heart. Its who I am now. Its who I want to be. And its what I want to chase, even if I never win.

It is often hard to explain to others why I I run so much or why I put myself through such hard training and pain, but I find that training and running and finishing simply quiets my soul and fuels my faith. Maybe someday I’ll write a book about it. Until then, I’ll just swim, bike, and run.

And maybe flex every once in awhile. 

Lines of poetry

Oh life. How you sneak up on me.  It has been too long since my thoughts have graced this blog, but it’s because they are too busy gracing essays, and papers, and freshman rubrics. Then there’s that small amount of free I have that tends to be consumed by the gym and training.  Needless to say, some things get pushed to the wayside…I really shouldn’t let it be this.  So my apologies to you faithful readers. I will probably be very few and far between over the next weeks but I’m here, thinking, planning, writing in my head, but never sitting down to type. Maybe Christmas break??  [at some point I NEED to sit down and reflect on my races…]

For your reading pleasure though… I have found a few snippets of time this week to jot down some poetry. I think autumn does that to me.It’s very raw, rough poetry, but still words. 

 

Gardenia

I.

Two twenty-nine and ten random digits pop
up on the screen. She had padded
silently to the windowsill where her Gardenia budded
in the moonlight when the first few notes of
an old ringtone sang from the other room.
She had been praying for someone and so she answered.
You called.
After so long, you called.

II.

We sat and discussed where
I would be next fall. I planned to move
to Pittsburgh for writing, but he looked
at me; his eyes, deep sea green glass, looked at me.
“Can I ask you to stay?”
“Sure”
“Stay.”

III.

Time means nothing in our realm.
Four years adds up to one kiss.

So Simple. Here we are. Here and now, finally now.

 

 

My Life is Poetry

I stepped out of yoga class
into the quiet cool of an autumn day
wearing a white thermal ribbed shirt
and a metallic crimson toned,
safe feeling infused scarf.

I welcome the winter as
a moment sitting, drinking coffee reminds
me that each day passing is a day breathed;
A day lived. So I lift thanks to the Maker who brings
a smile through a steaming mug,

and the coolness which brings me you.

Another Finish

 

 

Wooo Hooo!!!  Another finish lined crossed.

I raced in the Chicagoland Danskin Triathlon today and had a blast!

It was another sprint distance, but a little longer – 850m swim, 12 mile bike, 5k run-and my overall time was 1 hour and 33minutes!  I’m am not as sore as last time, but completely exhausted… a four hour drive home will do that too you. I’ll be reflecting back later. But for now…here’s a glimpse. There’s no better feeling than finishing with a smile on your face.

“If you can train your mind for running, everything else will be easy”

-Amby Burfoot

CNF piece

Getting back to my old way of writing…

First grad essay to be works hoped, still untitled.

 

I feel the slam of my foot on the soil, the hard, hibernating ground my enemy as it reverberates back up through my leg: left foot pounds, earth hammering right back. Left hip sensing the shock, but right foot pounds anyway. I know the earth will hammer right back again as my right hip braces for that shock, the joint grinding, circling around in the socket. My feet pace the ground one…two…three…one…two…three, but it feels more to the rhythm of my heartbeat. One and…two and…three and…one and …two and …three and. I feel the pace start to pulse as my heart awakens and the first light breaks through the trees; my right leg rotates through my hip joint like a well oiled machine, but I feel it tremor as my leg kicks back. The whole body aware now of the pulsation thumping through my gait, but it fights and runs on. I do not count the pace anymore. My heart takes over.

I watch a hazy mist move over the morning, its white breath whispering the beginnings of autumn. Some would tell me to sleep the morning awake, but I pace on, my left foot meeting the ground in such a way that propels me to raise my right leg and let it, too, meet with the earth. The sun has chosen to rise today and illuminate the road upon which I run. The mist envelopes and leaves me, hinting at the colder weather that will soon arrive. I cannot tell if it is the tranquil feeling from the mist or the peace I gain as my body starts to soar into one movement, but I suddenly feel as if I am flying.

* * * * *

“And now ladies and gentlemen, the famous Caitlin Marie will perform her daring act of flips and turns on the high flying trapeze!” I announce to my crowd of witnesses—my puppy, a few butterflies, and my mother in the distance gardening. The thunderous applause dies down as I plant my feet and raise my arms in a V, preparing for take off.

I take a breath, swing my right arm down, and race towards the swing set. My tiny little body propels itself forward and just as I come up to the contraption, I stutter step to slow myself, grab the trapeze bar and swing forward flipping my legs up and over my center of balance curving them backwards between my head and the bar where I hook my knees over the top leaving my five year old self hanging upside down.

The next act is the grand finale:

I pull myself up to sit on the bar, swing my legs to gain momentum and as I’m moving through the air stand up on the bar bringing the crowd to a moment of awe. I hear the gasp in the crowd as I almost slip, but gain composure and lower myself back down, crouching, and finally releasing my feet to the dangerous free air. I somehow balance my chest on the bar and in a moment of shock, release my hands into superman position, only more outwardly like wings. The crowd takes a breath of silence and bursts into applause.

“The amazing Crazy Caitlin has done it again,” I hear my mother proclaim. She has stopped pruning the lilies to watch my silly acrobatics.

I flip over the bar and land on my feet. “Did you like it Mommy?” I ask running over to her.

“You were amazing my little trapeze artist.” She kisses me on the head and runs her fingers over my ear. I bobble my head because when she reaches the lobe, it tickles. Her laugh warms me while her words imprint themselves. “Someday you’ll have wings.”

* * * * *
But most striking were the things that arched up over her head, made of thin aluminum, cut with strong peaks at the top, sweeping curves at the bottom, lined with tiny bells, which made the chiming noise I was hearing. That we could all hear.
‘I don’t get it,’ Caroline said bemused. ‘She’s the only one with wings. Why is that?’
There were so many questions in life. You couldn’t ever have all the answers. But I knew this one.
‘It’s so she can fly,’ I said. And then I started to run.

I find that when I reach a rough spot in life, I always pick up The Truth About Forever. It’s a young adult book, teenage fiction, but I can see myself in my eighties walking through the back door after a cool, autumn run through piles of rustic, auburn leaves, grabbing a cup of coffee and my book, then forgoing all stretching just to pick up where I left off in Macy’s world.
Maybe I connect with her because I am a runner, too. Maybe I connect because I tried so hard, for so long, to be perfect, as she tries. Maybe I connect because I somehow never listen to my own advice like she does. Or maybe it’s because I understand that the first steps are always the hardest, but sometimes we get second chances. And that’s when we begin to run.

Unlike Macy, I have not yet had to deal with the grief of losing a parent, let alone someone who also stands in as a running partner and coach. But like everyone else, grief has found me. It often finds me. It often finds us all.
Death. Break-ups. Change. Just part of what shape Macy’s character. Just part of what shape me. How I long for those days of soaring on my trapeze, the butterflies my constant audience, my mother humming in the background while the lilies blossom. The wish for wings in the whispers of unruffled mornings before life found me.
But this time I picked up the novel. This one particular summer day, I found my wings before Macy had hers. I had just graduated college, fumbled through a series of messy relationships, and took another chance at running.

The first few steps were hard; it took me a second to catch my breath, but then I found my pace, and everything fell away, until there was nothing but me and what lay ahead, growing closer every second.
The one truth I know about forever is that it is happening. Now. Not in the innocent mornings of a five-year old dreamer. Not in the mistakes of a twenty year old girl. But in the heart of a twenty three year old woman, letting go.
And as the sun rises, the brevity of the mist is revealed in faith, saying Caitlin, wake up. I’ll give you a head start. Come on, you know the first few steps are the hardest part.

Beautiful Ending

I know… beautiful seems to be the adjective of my life right now, but it’s appropriate. I can’t find any other word that describes things so well these days.

I finished the race today!! And though I’m sore and exhausted, I feel wonderful. Here’s a glimpse… though it’s the finish, it’s really only the beginning.

After 1 hour and 21 minutes…

 

 

Oh, tragedy
Has taken so many
Love lost cause they all
Forgot who You were
And it scares me to think
That I would choose
My life over You
Oh, my selfish heart
Divides me from You
It tears us apart

So tell me
What is our ending?
Will it be beautiful
So beautiful?

Oh, why do I
Let myself let go
Of Hands that painted the stars
And holds tears that fall?
And the pride of my heart
Makes me forget
It's not me but You
Who makes the heart beat
I'm lost without You
And dying from me

So tell me
What is our ending?
Will it be beautiful
So beautiful?

Will my life
Find me by Your side?
Your love is beautiful
So beautiful

At the end of it all
I wanna be in Your arms
At the end of it all
I wanna be in Your arms
At the end of it all
I wanna be in Your arms
At the end of it all
I wanna be in Your arms

So tell me
What is our ending?
Will it be beautiful
So beautiful?
Will my life
Find me by Your side?
'Cause Your love is beautiful
So beautiful

-Beautiful Ending
BarlowGirl

Beautiful Paradox

Wow…. I officially finished my first week as a college teacher. What a crazy, wonderful week it has been. Tomorrow also marks a big day as it’s the Go Girl Triathlon!!! Finally! I am so nervous and excited all at once. But completely, 100% ready.

Tomorrow is a day of paradoxes. It’s an ending and a beginning for me. But what is so beautiful about it is how God has weaved the two together-how he has perfectly planned this day for me.

I’m keeping it short tonight, I must double check all of my gear and rest, but I promise I will post my race report and photos soon. And I WILL be back on track with writing.

May you all smile at the life you’ve been given today, in this moment.

“Being mortal, never pray for an untroubled life. Rather, ask God to give you an enduring heart.”

-Menander

Letting Go

When I sit here and contemplate my life over the last few years, I realize how much I had to have control of the reigns. And I understand now how that is what led me to so much heartbreak. I was scared to let go. Fear of the unknown, you know? But letting go brings so much freedom and beauty in life. I’m still scared but this present moment is where I stand today. Not in the past few years and not in what I want for my future, but in the moment and in how God is moving and how he has had plans all along.

These lyrics have been running through my head lately and I wanted to share the moment with you. Don’t be afraid to let go. The other side brings a peaceful fear. An optimistic fear. Hope.

 

Francesca Battistelli Lyrics – I’m Letting Go Lyrics

My heart beats, standing on the edge
But my feet have finally left the ledge

Like an acrobat
There’s no turning back

Chorus
I’m letting go
Of the life I planned for me
And my dreams
Losing control
Of my destiny
Feels like I’m falling and that’s what it’s like to believe
So I’m letting go

This is a giant leap of faith
Trusting and trying to embrace

The fear of the unknown
Beyond my comfort zone

Chorus
I’m letting go
Of the life I planned for me
And my dreams
Losing control
Of my destiny
Feels like I’m falling and that’s what it’s like to believe
So I’m letting go

Giving in to your gravity
Knowing You are holding me
I’m not afraid

Feels like I’m falling and that’s what it’s like to believe
Feels like I’m falling and this is the life for me

 

Song Words by Artist / Band : Francesca Battistelli
Title : I’m Letting Go
Taken from Album : My Paper Heart

Iron Girl Atlanta- My Motivator

I spent the first part of the weekend visiting my parents and boy was it good to be home! My mom’s company was having a family picnic on Saturday and since my brother is moving back to college on Tuesday, I decided a few weeks ago to go home for the day so we could have one last family time this summer. Needless to say our “vacation” was at the city park this year, and I couldn’t have asked for a better day. I never realize how much I miss my family until I’m home. I feel so independent over here across the state line but I’m the type of girl who needs her family. Which is why secretly I’m happy I never jetted off to California for my undergrad like I wanted too in the first place. Everything in time I guess.

Knowing that I was going to be spending last weekend consumed with waitressing, I called ahead to my parents and asked them to tape (yes, as in VCR) the Iron Girl Atlanta triathlon for me. The race took place June 28th, but NBC showed a special broadcast of the race last Sunday, while I was slaving away in the restaurant. My roommates and I don’t have DVR yet and I had to see this race.

I don’t even know what to say about the hour I spent in front of the television (with the rest of my family watching too!) except that I feel so much more motivated now for my own triathlon. The last few weeks of my training have been hard… I was supposed to be upping my workouts, hitting the peak of my training and really pushing myself, but coming down with the flu just killed me for about three weeks. I feel like I lost all my motivation and discouragement really set in. Burnout is an athlete’s worst enemy—it’s an injury of the mind and sometimes those take longer to heal than the physical kind.

So after my great bike ride two weeks ago I’ve been pushing myself a little more and working on my mindset—tri-ing to keep that mental motivation just as strong and watching Iron Girl Atlanta is definitely what I needed for these last few weeks of training. The race profiled the 5 pro-women who competed that day, but the most inspiring part was not watching them push themselves for a great finishing time or monetary win, but the everyday women who competed and ran under the finishers arch. Like the woman who dealt with a brain tumor and after years of cancer finishes. Or the woman whose son at 2 years old was diagnosed with Leukemia, and she runs for him and finishes. Or the woman who got hit by a car during a daily run and after years of rehab and physical therapy crosses the finish line. Or the 60 some year old mother who, after going through breast cancer and a double mastectomy, crosses the finish line holding hands with her two daughters. And yes, I cried.

Watching this race made me realize again why I am competing. I may have only gone through a heartbreak a year ago and nothing as hard as these women, yet I am still swimming and biking and running to find and free myself. To give myself wings. To find Grace.

And as long as I can keep tri-ing, I will with the hopes that my passion can someday be used to inspire others too.

Here’s a preview of the Atlanta tri—I’m saving up to get there next year and compete. I figure it’s within driving distance and I can make a nice vacation weekend of it.

 

“Iron Girls mission is to empower women toward a healthy lifestyle. Grace, also the name of the symbol used within the Iron Girl logo, is within us all. It’s what makes women heroic, charming, and limitless. Grace is with us in difficult times and happy times, silly times and sad times. Grace is with us physically, mentally, and emotionally. Grace is what makes women special, unique, and strong. Grace acts with truth, beauty, and spirit. Grace is within you, and you are Grace.”
-Iron Girl website.

The Burnout

Here I was fearing burnout and I think I just finished the strongest ride of my training. I had a brick today of swim-bike but my work schedule is throwing me off and I didn’t get my swim in today. I was also extremely exhausted from a weekend of waitressing so my plan was to crash on the couch tonight and do nothing. But I talked myself out of it, got up, got dressed, headed out in wonderful weather for a ride and now I feel good! Really good.

The triathlon is a little over a month away and I’ve been worried that I’m getting burnout on my training. I think it’s a lack of motivation—I’m suddenly tired of doing all of this myself. I feel as if I have been pushing myself for so many weeks and that inner motivation is gone. It’s so much easier to become complacent and swim the same stroke, or ride on the same rhythm, or run the same pace. Lately, between being down with the flu, exhausted and almost burn-out, I keep questioning if I’m even going to finish this race. If I’m going to get better, or if I’ll always stay at this pace. If I want to keep going after this and do another, and another, and another…

And no matter how crappy I feel, I keep hearing something whisper in my heart “Keep training. Keep pushing. Keep racing.” Oftentimes it’s a jumble and I would much rather be complacent, but I know that won’t get me anywhere. And so I get up, dress myself with passion, and face the day. Near the end of my ride I turned into a neighborhood with this gigantic hill. Let me tell you, I don’t know the grade but I’m pretty sure this was almost straight up. It was maybe 100m total climb but there was no way I was riding the bike up it. So I jumped off and ran it up. Whoa did I feel the burn! But I didn’t feel like I gave up by not riding. (Normally I would) Instead, I felt stronger. And when I jumped back on to finishing cycling… there was no burnout left. I felt free.

(I’m also hoping new running shoes might help a little too. I picked up some bright yellow ones and I’m going for the fifteen day test run. I’ll either break them in for the race, or not like them, find a new pair and still have time to break them in.)

“I will never know myself until I do this on my own. I will never feel anything else until my wounds are healed. I will never be anything until I break away from me. I will break away. I’ll find myself today. “

-Linkin Park

Tree-trunk legs

For the first time in my training, I felt the rush and strength of being a triathlete. I had a back to back active rest week this week and since I just felt completely out of it last week, I pushed myself and added some workouts into my days. And mentally, I felt so good this week. Swimming gave me confidence, biking gave me strength, yoga gave me clarity and joy, and running gave me freedom. Then there was the fact that as I am re-racking weights in the gym one day during work (because boys are silly don’t understand the concept) I had a pretty good looking guy ask me if I was a track runner. “I was,” I said, but I graduated and so now I kind of do my own thing.”
“Ok. Well, your calves are huge so I was just kind of wondering.”
I looked at him and his as equally good-looking buddy (myself trying not to blush) and explained I was training for a triathlon.
“That explains it. It’s just when you were moving the weights I noticed the muscle flex all the way up your leg.”
Then I tried not to blush again or to let a huge smile spread across my face. I’m not sure if he meant it as a compliment because he wasn’t really flirting, but that one little phrase was a huge compliment to me and made me feel like a triathlete. For so many years I have hated the fact that I am curvy and short, and have ‘tree-trunk’ legs. But in a society that pushes tall and skinny as perfect, it’s hard to be accepting of yourself. However, over the course of the year I’ve started to realize the strength of my legs and yes, they are ‘tree-trunks’ but there is nothing unbeautiful about that. And by changing my mind set, I can run with a strength and grace I have never before had.
Yesterday was an absolutely gorgeous sunny day and about 65 degrees, odd for this time of the year. However, I took advantage of it. My legs were a little heavy from biking the day before and sore from yoga (I’m even hardcore with that!) so I planned a moderate twenty minute jog around my neighborhood. I weaved in and out of the cul-de-sacs but the day grabbed me and I pushed my tempo some. It was so lovely running and feeling the warmth of the sun on my face. Once again I understood why I am a runner. I feel so at peace when I run. I create. I feel beautiful, and confident, and empowered. I may never win an Olympic race or qualify as an Elite athlete, but I have the chance to run. And to me, that is enough.
While I was running I found myself wondering what is it that makes my legs move? I mean physically. How is it that our brains and bodies work so in sync that we go out, make the decision to place one foot in front of the other at a quick pace, and it happens so fast. I found myself wondering if it is just a natural (well, it is…) phenomenon. Do I really think about running while I am running? Or are my heart and head so connected that it just happens? I understand the science of it, even if I am not a science person, but it just struck me yesterday. There are so many things that make us run, but to run like I do is almost something I cannot explain. My legs seem to have a heart of their own because they keep moving. They have the strength to climb hills, to go the distance, and to put up with a whole heck of a lot of pain. They are strong. But I know they are still connected to my mentality.

There was a new piece of art installed on my campus in front of the rec center this week, in lieu of the opening and dedication. It’s called “The Runner.”At the ceremony the artist explained how his piece is meant to bring life to where it is; how it is meant to be implanted into the soul and inspire the movement that is in all of us. “The Runner” is molded into the running form, one leg firmly planted, the other grasping for movement. I think it is a beautiful and I see where the artist is coming from. I look at the statue every time I walk in the doors and I, too, feel the need to run. Something deep inside of me pulls and tries to break out. Running is my soul. And really, it is in all of us. It’s a natural thing because out bodies are made for motion, but there is something about the peace and clarity that comes from moving that pulls at us too. We are not meant to be clouded, and jaded, and caged, but meant to be free from whatever holds us and drags us down. When I run, even if it is the smallest of steps, I feel as if I am flying. I have escaped and am free. I am new and at peace. I am searching for adventure and longing for that finish line. I am trusting in the strength of my legs to keep me going, wherever I am going too.

A girl at work asked me this yesterday if I ever have bad days, because she can’t imagine I do. But I am human and I have lots of bad days… but I think the freedom I feel from running carries over into the rest of my life. Or at least I have been trying to let it. When I run I feel grace—the chance that I have at life because my God has given it to me. For me, grace is a spiritual thing but also a human thing. Grace is a belief, it is love and a chance given but not deserved. Grace is also inside of me giving me confidence and beauty and strong legs. It is a mindset, a joy, hope. It is my run.
Even so, no matter how much I train physically, if I ignore the mentality of it all, I will get no where. Maybe that’s why my last week was tough, because my mind was just a little down. My legs, no matter how strong, are connected to my mind and so when it is not in the right place, they struggle. Our bodies realize when we stop believing in ourselves, and then they will break down. We are all created different, but we are all created good. And we all have wings longing to take us somewhere.

Let yourself fly.

“Since everything God created is good, we should not reject any of it but receive it with thanks. For physical training is of some value, but godliness has value for all things, holding promise for both the present life and the life to come”

-1 Timothy 4: 4, 8

This is me taking a break…

Or at least trying too. Whew. It’s only Wednesday and what a week it has been!  Our new student rec center opened officially on Monday and between my two a day shifts and working out there, I feel as if I have a second home.

The dedication ceremony took place Friday and as a worker, I was asked to take part. With so many people coming through the building, my bosses wanted it to look in use, so all of us students who are working this summer got to “play around” in our areas. It was fun because I got a good workout in + got to be a part of the photo shoot for the school + got to be one of the first to use everything. Let me tell you, it’s hard to get a serious workout in though with cameras in your face; however, I feel like a fitness model or something. ha!

               

The opening this week has been exciting, and it’s so great to see so many people using the facility and excited to get healthy. I know I can’t seem to get enough. However, I’m trying not to lift too much because I don’t want to vary my training and exhaust myself. Which I can foresee myself doing. I work in the morning and the afternoon but have about a 5 hour break in between, so that’s when I squeeze my training in but now with the new center, I just want to do even more.

Take Monday for instance when I pulled my first 1000m swim. It wasn’t even a swim day but my body didn’t feel like running so I thought to myself, let’s try out the new pool, try out my new goggles, and see if I can do 600m without stopping yet. Sure enough I just felt like swimming. Twenty minutes and 1000m later I was feeling good. And my new aqua sphere Kaiman ladies goggles are amazing!! (And pink!) Yesterday, was my active rest day so I attended a yoga class and felt great walking out the door. But today, I’m tired. I think it’s the combo of early hours again, lots of working, and excitement. Plus the weather is dreary today and I have a pressure headache so I really don’t feel like cycling. So, I’m not going too. I did some more yoga and am just going to try and relax.
It’s hard finding the balance between training and over-training. I absolutely love doing it, and am slowly realizing how passionate I am about training, and being healthy, and connecting my heart and soul, and someday helping other woman do this.  BUT, I also need to learn when to breathe and simply take a break myself. Sometimes I feel like if I take even one day off my body is off or I feel like I’m missing out on something. And sometimes, my self-confidence waivers a little if I miss a day. But I have been reading about training this week and the importance of balancing it with rest, and what I have found is that it’s those rest days when our bodies actually do the most work. Because when we give it a break from physical training, it takes everything in and fixes itself. It heals and restores and builds up what we have been teaching it.

In essence, I could train and train and follow a hard, rigorous schedule, but could ultimately never get better or even hurt myself if I don’t rest. Isn’t life like that too? We become so busy and do so much that sometimes we never stop to breathe or to be quiet when really, that’s all we need. Rest can do so much for us if only we would understand that to rest doesn’t mean we are quitting or stopping. To rest means to simply take it all in and heal.

“Ultimately, the best runners are the ones who are willing to work very hard but who have a little bit of a lazy streak in them.”

-Benji Durden

A Torturous Twenty-five Minutes

“Something’s wrong with me,” I said to my mom when I called her at about six o’clock today.
“What?” She didn’t sound too alarmed. Good thing.
“I think something is wrong with me. I was barely able to run two miles in twenty-five minutes.”
“Oh. (relief) Maybe you are just having an off day.”
“I guess,” I replied feeling really dejected, but hoping for that response since she is a runner too. She understands those days when you just can’t run.

I, on the other, cannot. I mean, I know I am slow… but still, twenty-five minutes and barely over two miles?? That is back to my beginning days and discouraging considering I just ran the Fast Track mile at a 7-minute pace meaning I should have had three down pat tonight. Hrummmp. Last week I felt off and I’m supposed to be on again. I was ready to run but I just couldn’t. My legs were lead and the rest of me felt so weak. Double Hrummmp.

My mom is right though, as those wise women before us usually are and the main reason I call her every time something in my life seems a little off. Because I know she will have the answer even if I don’t want to hear it. And after I stew on it a little while, and sometimes kick my iron will out of the way, I will feel better.

“We all have those days sweetheart. Sometimes we just have too. Tomorrow, or whenever you run next will be better.”

I know, I know. I can’t always have good run days. And if I didn’t have the bad days then I wouldn’t ever know what a good, swift, smooth run would feel like. If I didn’t have any bad runs, I wouldn’t ever learn to fly.

So here’s hoping that tomorrow, which is my next run, will bring me wings.

“My feet keep me running, my wings make me fly”
-Joelle

Happy Fourth of July!

Happy Freedom day everyone!!! It feels so strange because I’ve missed the fireworks the last two years (working and out of the country last year—which was really strange!) and I might have missed them this year! I was thinking about going to the city tonight to see a great show, but depending on the rain, we’ll see. Although, it’s never a 4th of July without the rain.

Today is one of my favorite holidays, mostly because of what today is. The birth of our free nation and a celebration of all those who have fought for it. So thank you to every military man or woman. I’m so grateful to live in the United States of America. Say a prayer for those overseas today, may they know how much they are appreciated and looked up too.

On another great note—I ran the Fast Track Mile this morning. Not a 5k, obviously, but a race. I love running races on holidays—it just feels different and good and a great way to celebrate, especially on the 4th. I think I’m going to make it my own tradition. It just sets a good feel to the day. There were so many little girls running in the race that I couldn’t help but smile the whole time I was running. I hope they continue to enjoy running as they grow up as much as they did this morning. The smiling must have helped because I PR’d. 6:50—my fastest mile time yet.

I’ll keep it short and sweet today—Have a wonderful 4th of July! Hopefully it will be full of sun and cookouts and family and fireworks and freedom. Take it all in and smile. Remember today and dream.

“Freedom means the opportunity to be what we never thought we would be.”

-Daniel J. Boorstin

A hodgepodge of happiness

Good Friday Morning! More than likely some of you have today off for a three day weekend and are sleeping in, and though it may be eight o’clock in the morning, I too slept in. After a five o’clock alarm sounding every day so far this summer, seven thirty felt like heaven. I was the bold one who took the opening shift at the gym this summer and as of last night, we officially closed our doors. Bittersweet for me seeing as how I’ve only worked there for a year and really, the circumstances behind my job were interesting. I was an English major, not Exercise Science, but since fitness is such a hobby of mine, last spring I decided to put in an application at the school gym for the heck of it. I figured since I worked out enough there, I might as well try for a job. And somehow, my knowledge came through, and I’ve absolutely loved every minute of it. The job was a really good thing for me this year—I think it helped open me up some, I met a lot of great people, and in a round about way, I guess I see this job as a big part of who I am now. Without it and this past year, I wouldn’t be where I am. I wouldn’t be happy in what I’m figuring out about my life; I wouldn’t have taken in a lot about people, or had thoughts about how I want to help… I know, I’m being a little bit cryptic but that’s only because I’m still piecing my mind together about what it is I really want to do in life and it’s hard to explain all of my thoughts.
The reason the gym closed is because we are finally (finally!) opening the new student rec center on the 13^th. And, I will officially be a membership services representative and fitness floor specialist. I kind of like the titles…cheesy, but also a little proud. Ultimately I’ll have two jobs there for the rest of the summer. Still the early shift dealing with new memberships and working the fitness floor in the afternoons, equaling a total of thirty hours a week which makes me happy! I’ll have to cut back on waitressing during the week, but that’s ok. The new rec center is amazing and I think it’s worth the money we’ve had to put into it as students. It has an amazing lap pool connected to a lounge pool, upstairs walking track with abdominal machines section, two exercise rooms (for yoga, martial arts, etc), great new cycling room with brand new bikes, and the fitness floor—which feels like heaven when I walk in. Most everything is brand new. My supervisor bought a ton of cardio equipment—treadmills, ellipticals, stair climbers, bikes—all which have massive technology packages and training programs. Then the weights floor is set up in levels of three sections—kind of more first timer easier machines to hardcore lifters where everything is plated and you have to control the balance. Needless to say, me and the guys (I’m the only female working this summer) had to “test” out the equipment yesterday and next week. HA! I mean, our boss is going to give us a spot check to be sure we know how to set up people on machines so it’s only right that we learn how to use them. I’m pretty sore today, but wow, it’s one of the nicest gyms I’ve been in.

I took a little break from training this week. Next week was supposed to be my active rest weeks where I still do all of my training sessions, just less time everyday and a little bit easier. I decided to listen to my body instead and took it this week. I felt like lifting (probably in the spirit of the move) and so I’ve been sore, but also just really tired this week. I’m learning that yes, I have to and want to train, but if I don’t listen to my body once in awhile, that’s when an injury happens. So next week, I’m getting back at it and pushing just a little bit more. I’m getting so excited about the tri. Nervous, yes, but excited. I found out yesterday that the Irongirl Atlanta triathlon which took place in June, will be televised at the beginning of August. I will definitely be glued to my tv to watch all those strong women cross the finish line.

I also found someone to take a look at my bicycle for cheap (if not free). One of the guys I work with is an avid cyclists and actually was commissioned by the school to build some new trike bikes so he knows his stuff. I was going to take mine to a bike shop for a 60 dollar tune up, but it is so old (at least 20 years) I’m afraid they would strongly influence me to put all new gears and brakes and things on there, which I can’t afford. And really don’t need. All I want is this bike to get me through the first triathlon and if I fall in love with the sport, I’ll buy a new one. It still rides and two of the ten speeds work -easy and hard- that can get me through. It probably just needs cleaned up and some new brake pads which A. can fix. I figure if he will look at it and maybe show me some stuff, I can buy the new pieces from Wal-Mart and he can help me fix it. After all, if I’m going to be riding a bike for a while, I need to learn my stuff! Maybe that’s why I like running so much—grab a pair of tennis shoes and go! Not much maintenance. Besides, I actually really like this bike. It’s kind of like my pair of running shoes that got me through my first half marathon. Old, broken down, but has character and perseverance. It’s all about doing what you can, with what you have, where you are. I am a poor grad student, officially now as I received my final transcripts in the mail yesterday and am awaiting my degree, and though I complain about it a lot (sorry mom!) really, I’m so blessed with what I do have. God provides for what I need, when I need it. And the rest of the time, He’s given me a heart big enough and strong enough to cover everything else. 

And because I had a little extra money (actually, the perfect amount—how about that) I ordered some tri shorts. Perfect for swimming, biking, and running I can’t wait to tri them out. They’ll be a blessing on the bike, no more soreness from my seat!

Happy Fourth of July weekend everyone!

 

“For I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength.”

-Phillippians 4:11-13

Breaking the Chain

Yesterday brought one of those epiphany-like laughs my way. My training has switched around a little this week, more hours but varying the days as well, and instead of swimming on Friday, I biked. Ten o’clock in the morning seemed to be a good time except that it was already sweltering with humidity, but in between working it was the best time to get a good ride in. I put my sunscreen on, checked the tire pressure, and headed out. Clear blue skies and fairly empty roads set me up for what I was hoping to be a good ride. I had a good riding pace going into one of those really nice Utopian neighborhoods that I’ll never be able to afford when I started thinking to myself, What I am I going to do in life? Now, since I’ve graduated this seems to be on my mind lately because it’s the big elephant in the room when I’m with a lot of people. It’s the general question graduates are asked—probably number one for me right now—and I am so tired of saying “I don’t know yet” or making up something just to have an answer. I mean, I have an idea… of course I want to write that million dollar book, or even get paid to train and race, but in reality, those things aren’t going to happen on the levels I want. So somehow I have to combine my passions because it’s a must that I enjoy what I do, even if it takes me years to get there. But one thing is for sure, even though my jobs right now (waitress and fitness guru at a gym, soon to be new rec center) are not bad at all, I’m just tired of working for minimum wage.
These thoughts yesterday caused me to start having an interesting conversation with God, one of course which knocks me off my feet, or my bike, literally. Whatever I do I want to be able to put my faith into, or if it’s something I can’t so blatantly put it into, I want my faith to drive me. So I’m riding along asking why it is I can’t just know what career I’m going to end up with, or what city I’m going to move too, or even who I’m going to marry…I’m thinking it would be great to just know these things and it would eliminate all of my worry and wondering if I’m on the right track. And then suddenly I thought to myself… But in a race, do I really want to know how I’m going to cross the finish? Do I want to know if I will? Do I want to know my time? And once again life became a race.

I am training hard and trying to be so disciplined for this triathlon so that I can finish, but if I knew how I was going to finish, my training wouldn’t even be worth it. If I knew I was going to finish and say, with a good time, wouldn’t I be more likely to slack off or only push myself so hard… only as hard as I needed too? And then I started thinking about how finishing is only one tiny part of the race. Most of the experience, most of what I get out of finishing comes with my training. Everything leads up to the end of the race. All of my hard work, all of the sweat and pain, all of the great breakthrough days, and even the not-so-good days make it worth crossing that line. They build up the suspense, they teach—and if I knew the outcome would I really feel as accomplished and good about finishing as I do not knowing how I’m going to finish, but continuing to strive anyway?

And so here I was no about halfway into my 45 minute ride, peddling hard up a hill, my calves and quads screaming at me, when all of a sudden my feet start going round and round and I’m not going anywhere. I look down only to find that my chain has fallen off as I tried shifting gears. After all of the thoughts going through my head, I couldn’t help but laugh. I’m about four maybe five miles away from my apartment (luckily I have a phone) and I do NOT want to walk my bike back…but, I also know how to put the chain back on and that’s all it was. Nothing broken. It made me think about the experience though. Things like this happen when you’re riding or when you’re racing. The unexpected is ALWAYS there, but it’s half the fun because it’s where we learn. We learn how to fix things and how to take care of things. We learn humbleness , but we also learn that we can move on and get past things.

"The long race is there always, as a sort of platform on which to evaluate, and sometimes alter your life."
Benjamin Cheever

Though worry plagues me (not as much as it used too!) about the future, I just had that moment where I understood how we can’t just be told where we are going to end up in life or who with because it takes away everything about getting there. Maybe I don’t like these jobs right now and I’m discouraged about job searching or wondering if I’m at the right school, wondering if I should still pursue grad school, but everything, everything we do yields a lesson. And every bit of it makes that finish line—that ‘I love my job’, graduation, creating a family, so much sweeter. I mean, think about it—if we really knew the exact path our lives were going to take, how disciplined would we be on getting there? How much would we learn? Would we ever know strength?

I know that I probably haven’t dealt with the hardest, most discouraging, sad valleys of my life yet, but my life is constantly strengthening me for that. I know that I’ve planned and sometimes I still plan where it is I want to end up in life but that isn’t always where I’m going to end up. Proverbs 16:9 says In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps. We’re not puppets on a string, I can choose where I want to go tomorrow, but I know God is whispering in my ear—kind of like my coach or my number 1 fan—saying “Keep going, keep running, you’ll get there. You have the strength.”

"Beyond the very extreme of fatigue and distress, we may find amounts of ease and power we never dreamed ourselves to own, sources of strength never taxed at all because we never push through the obstruction."
-William James, philosopher

Sweet Summertime

“Summer is a season of rest, growth, playfulness, reading, freedom, fun, and adventure.”

-Kristen Armstrong

Throw in racing and maybe the constant fall of summer storms and so far that’s my summer. These last three weeks have felt like such a season of rest for me, especially after the constant demanding year. I may have to get up early in the morning for work and hit job number two at night, while also training my butt off, yet I still find plenty of time to rest—usually around 2pm when I take that oh so coveted nap. I’m not sure if it’s still the revelation that I have graduated, or that I have a new home, or that I’ll finally be comfortable in one place for three months with hardly any obligations that makes me feel so at peace these days. Despite the past crazy weeks of on and off rain, summer has been different this year, but then again, in the last month I feel different myself.

Suddenly I have started a different chapter in my life and I have a new pen ready to write my days. Someone close to me told me just last week that I’ve changed tremendously since he saw me last, right near the end of school. That’s only been a month mind you. He looked at me and said, “You’re just different. More relaxed. Independent.” I cannot say I have purposely changed my thoughts or actions or tried to find a new personality but I feel it. It’s as if the moment I stop thinking about not worrying, about trying to relax, and about trying to be happy…I find the peace and strength I’ve been searching for all along How funny is it that when we just simply stop, whether searching, worrying, thinking, etc, we finally find?
I have a horrible habit of losing things. And I mean a horrible, uncanny, bumbling habit. I misplace my keys all of the time, I’ve been through five umbrellas this year because I can’t keep track of them, and I don’t know how many pairs of sunglasses I’ve lost throughout the years. But somehow, it never fails that the minute I stop looking for the object I have lost, I will find it. And here, I’ve stopped searching and trying to figure out how to be, and simply just am. It’s a neat feeling really—simply being. I’ve sat around contemplating, gone for some jogs, and spent hours at my computer this last week trying to write about it, but I can’t fully describe the feeling. It’s just different. It’s just good. It’s as if my heart, mind, and soul are in a season of rest, and growth, and playfulness. I’m seeking adventure and fun and freedom from whatever it was that was holding me down.

Summer is a unique time. As kids, these three months of freedom are what we live for every year. We spend countless hours in the sun splashing by the side of the pool burning energy and not missing the chance to play. We jump through the sprinkler, dive onto the Slip-n-Slide, chase the ice cream truck, and enjoy a melting orange dream sickle in the heat of the day not caring if more of it ends up on our hands than in our mouths leaving us gross and sticky. We play Frisbee with the dog, roast marshmallows until they’re black, carve our initials in trees, cower in the crook our of parents’ arms during thunderstorms, and illuminate our name with sparklers. We dance in rain showers, catch fireflies and sit in awe at fireworks on the fourth of July. And no matter how tired we are at the end of the day, we tumble into bed with reading lights or tell scary stories with our brothers, and then fall asleep with smiles on our faces awaiting the adventures the next day will bring us. We awake with the peace of carefree days and the strength to never stop running.
This!—this childlike wonderment and strength is what I long for in everything I do. This is what I am slowly discovering! Phillipians 4:7 says And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. There is this feeling that I find simply dwelling in me these days and I know it’s nothing I could have ever discovered on my own. I don’t know if I jarred it loose it while I was running one day, or if it crept up on me while I was just sitting in silence, or revealed itself while I was spending time with friends. However, I do know that it’s God-breathed and exactly what children discover in the summertime. And I cannot stop lifting up a smile of thanks for every moment.

So whether it’s chasing that ice cream bell before lunchtime, or dancing in a rain shower, or tumbling around on the floor with a puppy, take a moment to breathe in the sweet summertime and smile. As for me, I’m going to finish up work, discuss a little Irish Literature, and maybe cower under my mother’s arm if this thunderstorm reveals itself.

Here’s to Tri-ing!

Today I progressed from being a soulful runner to a hopeful triathlete. After much yearning and debating, and hoping and convincing, I signed up for the Go Girl Triathlon in Indy. For awhile I have been telling myself I’m going to tri a triathlon. Don’t get me wrong, I have the heart of a runner, but I feel the pull to tri something more. To push my body to do more. To build a base and tri for strength—of mind, of soul, of spirit, of heart. I have yet to run a full marathon simply because I have this hope of training with someone else. Those twenty mile training runs just do not sound appealing to attempt alone right now. And I’m holding out for the Nike Women’s Marathon (or the Dublin Marathon) as my first. Either of which I am bound and determined to get my mother to run with me. Plus, I’m hoping the constant rotation of exercise with a triathlon helps the hip heal…

Somehow I serendipitously stumbled across the information for this race and decided it was destiny. Or, it could just be the fact that it is close to home and easily affordable right now. Still. I feel it is my race. My eventual goal in life is to train for and complete the Irongirl Olympic distance triathlon in Vegas sometime (probably a few years from now), then a Half Ironman, and hopefully someday qualify for a full Ironman Tri.

For those who don’t know, there is a big difference in training and soul for these races. The Go Girl Tri is a sprint distance triathlon (the shortest tri distance and fastest growing race in the nation). I’ll be swimming 500 meters, biking 10 miles, and running 3.1 miles. And yes, that’s one right after the other and I’m hoping to complete it in the round abouts of an hour. The sprint is a really good distance to start with; however, I’m still going to need a lot of endurance—which is where my training comes in. [Riff: Olympic distance is 1.5 k swim, 40k bike, 10k run i.e. .9 mile, 24 miles, 6 mile; Iron man distance is 3.8k, 180k, 42k i.e. 2.4 mile, 112 miles, and a full marathon run-26.2 miles]. I am three weeks into endurance/heart rate based training where mostly my daily training is based on minutes, my total weekly on hours, and I’m pushing my cardio vascular levels. Not too hard, just to the point where I’m working hard and feeling strong. I give or take some speed work in all three areas, but I’m tri-ing not to bog myself down with specific workouts right now. My main goal is to finish the race and finish it strong and with a smile is what I’m going to do.

So yes, I am still runner and I will always be a runner—but for now, I’m seeing what opening myself can bring me. Maybe I can be a triathlete, even if I look like a fish out of water in the water. Swimming is NOT my strong point. I’ll never know unless I tri, and that’s exactly what I am doing.

My mother always said I was a strong willed child, here’s hoping that really it was just an Iron will.

 

“Think about the word 'amateur': It has its root in the Latin word 'amare', which means 'to love'--you do it for the love of the sport."
-Charles Carlson

A Life Diagnosis

I don’t think I’ve ever had a Doctor tell me exactly what I want to hear, that is until Monday. And his diagnosis was like that last sip of coffee where all the caramel has collected—heavenly. I’ve been battling a hip injury for a couple of years now, more so described as chronic pain than an injury because I don’t really know exactly what happened to my hip, but when I run it just plain hurts. And in the weirdest of places too, right above my hip bone and some days it even feels like the pain migrates to other areas. My first few years of college I just sort of ran through the pain; I was just getting started with my running anyway and wasn’t training too intensely just going the distance. However, all of that changed last fall when I started training with the track team. My intensity and mileage upped significantly (and I loved it!) but so did the pain. And because I am so stubborn and tend to have a high pain tolerance, I still ran through it.
Part of my thinking, ok, most of my stubbornness was spent turning the pain into a metaphor and I believed that if I was able to just run through it and keep going, I could tackle the pain in my heart and move past it as well. That was until January hit. By then I’d had probably too many indoor workouts, my body was beaten and stressed, and my hip just gave out. I finally caved to the trainer’s office because for the first night after a run, the pain made me cry. And it wasn’t any outside or emotional pain, it was definitely radiating from my hip. I knew the tears were a sign that I to stop, to humble myself and get it looked at.

To make a long story short—my outdoor season was over because I spent the next few months seeing several doctor’s, getting X-rays, an MRI, and fighting the insurance to figure out what was wrong. And finally, finally I have an answer! I spent Monday morning in a sports orthopedist’s office where my revelation appeared. He said everything looked great, I have very healthy joints and muscles, however when he proceeded to poke and prod at my hip (something none of my other doctors have done) he hit the spot where the pain radiated my entire being. (I might be dramatic here, but it hurt!) And his diagnosis—Iliac Crest Chronic Apophysitis (not near as serious as it sounds) which is deep, tiny muscle tears right above my hip bone that have tried to heal but are now covered with scar tissue because my body has stopped trying to fix itself.
Funny how our bodies are wired to do that. Something hurts, or is sick, or isn’t in sync with the rest of the system and the system fights back trying to synchronize itself once again. It fights off the bad and runs off the pain. And the human body is always like that. When one thing is off be it physical, psyche, heart, or soul everything is off. When we are not whole our lives tend to fall apart because we need inner balance. Our humanity, our life is based on the body’s longing to be whole. I believe that is why I ran so hard even through all of my hip pain. My heart was broken, my soul was searching, and the only healthy way to fix it was to physically run out the pain. Yes it hurt, but I was finding balance.

This stubborn (or Iron as I prefer) does go deep because at some point my body just got used to the pain and stopped trying to fix it. So really, I’ve been running with torn muscles for a while now. However despite the knowing and still feeling the pain, I get to run—doctor’s orders. Basically to heal my hip I have to get deep tissue massage to the area and not the feel good kind either. It’s the kind of massage that will leave me bruised and in more pain because essentially, I have to reinjure the muscle and trick the body so it will heal. And if this therapy doesn’t work, he gets to do some cool injection treatment of my own blood into my hip which will trick my body into thinking there is an injury, therefore turning on healing mode.  The reason I get to keep running and am not sidelined is because this is a type of injury where I need to feel the pain. I need to know where it hurts, I need to work my body to get it better.
So when I asked him, “Does this mean I can still train for the triathlon or do I have to rest and heal for the next few weeks?”

He replied, “You sure can. And in fact, I encourage you too. Go for it. This is one of very few injuries where I can tell you to run through the pain. It will help the healing.”

I ran to be free; I ran to avoid pain; I ran to feel pain; I ran out of love and hate and anger and joy.
-Dagny Scott

Sunday Running

Yesterday’s post was a hard one and I apologize for the tears it may bring to some (Mother…) I had a very hard time writing it, but I deal with my emotions in my writing. It’s who I am. That is why often, my blogs are so long. I say too much. They won’t all be that long, I promise.

Good Sunday morning!! The sun is beautiful here—only a few hours of work and then I’ll be driving in it to the parent’s house for the holiday weekend. I can’t wait, it’s always nice to get away especially to home sometimes. I went on a great 20 minute jog this morning to wake myself up and loosen my muscles from last night’s 10 mile bike ride…a little sun burnt and a little stiff, but feeling good. And, if all goes as planned, today’s run was my last ‘enjoyment’ run before I start training tomorrow for a triathlon.
My run this morning was great though. I’ve moved across town from campus, out East I call it, and I’m learning how nice the city is on this side of town. I have three parks in my vicinity, a great and long bike path, hills, some safe, quiet neighborhoods to run in, a pool and some ponds for swimming, and most of all endless choices for my running ventures. I do not miss the constant two routes I had been running. I like change, variety, especially when I’m just in my running zone. Someday soon though I’m going to get back up to my five miles a day. I have to admit, I haven’t been the runner I would like to have been for the past year or so as I’ve been battling some type of hip injury. I’ll be seeing my third doctor on Tuesday about it so hopefully things will go well and it’s nothing serious. Both the X-Ray and MRI have come out clean so maybe it’s just because I’m extremely inflexible….
In case those who don’t know me are wondering, I’m putting it out into the world that I AM NOT AN ELITE RUNNER, nor will I probably ever be. I wouldn’t even consider myself good yet, I just like to run… but some day I hope to have that constant 7:30 pace down or even better. I was a sprinter in high school (I never did cross country I hated distance then) but quit track to work a job, probably the one thing I regret in my life. When I got to college I realized how much I missed running so I just started going for the distance on my own. To date I have completed two half-marathons and hope to do many more, as well as some full marathons. After last summer’s roughness I knew I had to keep running and so on a whim, I inquired about walking onto the track team because I knew training with other people would keep me going. And that’s exactly what it did last fall. I had a great experience with the team, met some wonderful girls, and even had the opportunity to run in five indoor meets. And by the end of the season, I didn’t come in last on the final two races I ran (I was a 1000m and 800m runner—middle distance). However, in between indoor and outdoor season my hip gave out. It had been hurting for awhile though I just kept running on it, and I think the jump in intense training and mileage was what really aggravated it. So outdoor season was shot but by that time, I didn’t need running as much because my heart was getting stronger.

So now I’m on my way back up. My running slacked some this spring semester though my heart never faltered. Running, as with life, has its good and bad days and I do get discouraged a lot. But I just have to keep going forward if I’m ever going to get anywhere. Probably never the Olympics but hopefully a lot of Marathons and road races. I look at a lot of runners and notice how many are older than me. I don’t have patience, never have, but the great thing about running is your best years are often not when you are young, but the late twenties and thirties. So in my eyes, I may feel like I’m only getting started and never going to get anywhere, but it’s a great time to get started. I have no where to go but forward!

Ps…the ‘Running Reports’ link on the right side of my page, is a place I’ve created where I’m going to keep track of my races and times and all sorts of things. You know, the data and technical stuff, and any running groups I join or organizations I work with, which is something else I’m working on. Currently it’s in blog form because I’m not that html smart to figure everything else out yet. But Enjoy!

Happy Memorial Day weekend everyone!

“Jogging is very beneficial. It’s good for your legs and your feet. It’s also very good for the ground. It makes it feel needed.”
-Charles Schultz

Eulogy for a Faithful Puppy

I called my dad the night it happened because I knew Dolly was his dog through and through. I asked him how everyone was doing. “We’re ok.” I could hear he wasn’t.
“How did…how was… is she….” I couldn’t finish the sentence, but he knew.
“It was pretty quick. The vet came in and gave her a sedative IV to help calm her. She said it would take 15 minutes for her nerves to calm down and the pain to settle. She said she would give us time and come back. We were all there.” I pictured him and my mother and brother standing around a metal table in the middle of a probably white room where Dolly lay, machines and things all around her. “She came back and gave her the shot. Dolly couldn’t feel anything. I was up front by her face just petting her.” I imagine my father, whose love for our dog surpassed the normal master-pet relationship, squatting down at the front corner of the table so he could be face to face with her. Probably stroking her ears like he always did, whispering to her it’s going to be all right Dolly, I love you, you’ll be ok… and even kissing her on the top of the nose a few times to reassure her. That’s when my eyes started to fill. “Her tongue flopped out a little and her eyes got glassy but her face never changed. The vet got her stethoscope and said she didn’t hear anything. She was gone. It was pretty fast and Dolly seemed to be ok through it. There wasn’t any pain.” I tried really hard not to cry during that conversation, afraid that if I did, I might hear it in my father’s voice, but I when I hung up the phone and the actuality had set in, I simply sat down on the couch with my head in my hands and cried.

  Thursday night one of my most faithful and loving best friends died. Dolly Madison was the epitome of man’s best friend. Mostly because she was my father’s puppy for her entire life, but every time I came home from college over the past few years, she would greet me with a little bobble of her head as if to say, “Caitlin, I didn’t think you were ever coming home, but I’m here! I missed you. Pet me!” I’ve been watching her age with hardship as I’ve returned home for holidays and such, but only this past six months has she gotten worse. Dolly’s always had horrible allergies so she was never the bright white of a Dalmatian that she should’ve been, and a couple of years ago she developed a lump on her neck. The vet said it was only a goiter, no cancer. However, about a year ago she started fainting, but more than likely, she was probably seizing. And her soft black ears were turning gray.
Dolly had fluid around her heart and when she would overexert herself, and in these last few month, sometimes that just meant walking up stairs or standing up from her bed, somehow her heart or lungs or something pushed on her sternum bone causing her to pass out. But my mom thinks she was actually having seizures and after seeing one episode, I agree. One day Dolly’s back legs gave out and she flopped over, her legs pushing straight out and her head arching back, her whole body becoming very stiff for a few seconds. Then she woke up, looked at Dad as if to say what happened? and lay there for a good twenty minutes.
My family had to take Dolly to the vet Thursday night because for some reason, she just wouldn’t get up anymore. She couldn’t walk and though we always hoped Dolly would just pass away from old age, she was in pain and they couldn’t let her suffer anymore. I tried not picturing her laying there on her bed, but ironically enough, I just watched Marley and Me Monday night, wondering if and when it was going to ever happen with Dolly.
That when and if came too soon.

I remember the day we brought her home I was eight and excited beyond belief at getting our first puppy. Even if I was going to have to take care of her and clean up poop. I placed a soft towel on the floor of my side of the back seat because I wanted our new blue-eyed puppy to be my friend. I wanted her to be my puppy. She rode home curled up there the entire way.
My father, in time, somehow commandeered her from me. They had a special bond and after those first few weeks with her, I knew she was going to be his forever. I spent all of her life slipping her food from my plate trying to win her over and just in the past few years when I’d be home to eat, she’d always come and mooch by me. Waiting. She knew I’d give her something, anything, even if it was a lick of my fingers. I got in trouble a lot for that, scolded by my mother, but winning Dolly, even for a moment, made it worth it. Besides, she was a sell out. She only loved my father because he’d let her sit on his lap in the couch, or the chair, when my mom wasn’t home. She wasn’t that big of a Dalmatian, but she wasn’t a lap dog either.
The last time I was home I took her on a walk because somehow, I felt it might be the last time I would ever see her and I wanted her to feel the sunshine. It wasn’t a long walk, she couldn’t go far with her enlarged heart and weak joints, but I know she enjoyed it. Dolly remembered our route like she always did, turning before I even reached the corners. And when we got home, she waited by her water bowl for a large drink, a gesture I learned over the years that meant she was happy and had enjoyed the exercise. When she wasn’t, she never drank.
When I left, I kissed her head, letting her growl at me as she did in her old grouchy stage, and told her I loved her.

Mom put the phone by Dolly’s ear Thursday afternoon when I called after getting her voicemail. “I love you Dolly. You’re my greatest friend. I’m sorry I teased you a lot and made you mad sometimes, and never took you on enough walks. It’s going to be ok, you can run all the time now. I’ll see you again. I love you.” I was eight again that afternoon. Not twenty-two. My running helps me endure through life, but it doesn’t prepare me for when life is over. Nothing ever really does except the experience of it. And it is in those moments when you realize the importance of life, of love, even if this time it is just from a simple dog. But they are faithful, and loving, and forgiving, and always there for you they way people can’t be but should be. Dolly was my friend for 10 days shy of fourteen years, and now that she’s gone I realize what it means to be a companion and a friend. One of my clearest and cherished memories is of when Dolly was a puppy. I had lay down beside her on my parent’s blue bedroom carpet and we curled up together in the tiny area between the wall and bed. My head was kind of propped up on her neck and shoulders, my hand wrapped up in her soft, black ear. I don’t know how long we slept but it was that she let me wrap myself up in her, let me get close, and stayed there with me. As if she knew me, a small child, needed a moment away. She never forgot me through these last few years. When I’d come home she was right there, close, wanting my hand to be wrapped up in her ears again. As if saying, “Caitlin, I’m still here. I love you. Pet me.”
And that’s what’s so wonderful about dogs. No matter how much you tease them or yell at them or how much you’re away, they never stop loving you. And I know that in the moment right before her heart let go of life, her heart never let go of us. Even if she knew what was coming, she still thought I love you guys. Just pet me. 

Hope through the Sole of My Sneakers

Here it is world—my mind, my new blog, my life, my run. Hello and welcome!! After a few months of thinking and a little breaking from blogging, I have decided to come back with something new. I know, some of you are thinking she did this last summer. And for those of you thinking that, you're right. J But that's old news and one more project I never completed out the window. However, I promise to stay constant with this one. This is part of me… I can already feel it. It's a race I'm in to finish, and my hope, hope, hope, is you'll run along beside me.

As of today, I am a week and a half into "the real world" having graduated from college Saturday May 9^th. (That's me receiving my diploma on the right and with my best friend Cait on the left. We were both so amazingly happy that day is was ridiculous.)

 
            

Currently I'm in a new phase of life and I want to celebrate by writing! My 'Snapshots' blog is still around, but it is in permanent hibernation mode, or I guess you can say I have retired it. I can't get rid of it; after all it was my first blog-baby. But I do I feel as if I want to mark my entrance into adulthood with something a little more focused and different. I want a theme and a purpose for my writing. I want to contemplate my blog entries and craft them like essays. I long to be a professional writer and I want this to be my starting place. So here it is.
As I sit and write at one of my favorite coffee shops, Starbucks on Wabash Ave, I'm reminded of a letter I crafted about this time last summer before I left for Ireland to study. I was stressed out to the max (which is typical for me) and worried about the direction my life was heading. How I was going to get everything done and was it really the right path? In attempts to let go of the stress, and the questions, and the worry I wrote a letter to make sense of everything and to shift my focus to my trip. I reread that letter a few days ago and came across this: I'm looking at Ireland as a sabbatical (sab·bat·i·cal –noun any extended period of leave from one's customary work, esp. for rest, to acquire new skills or training, etc. -adjective bringing a period of rest.) because it is bringing a period of rest into my life. Though it is only a few short weeks, I hope to come back renewed, energized, and ready for whatever life brings at me. I hope this experience changes me and makes me even more faithful, open minded, adventurous, and laid back, but also brings more perseverance, determination, and fun into my life. I hope Ireland turns my mindset to being ready for anything and open to immediate opportunities, helps me understand I cannot always control things, banishes worry, let go of stress, challenges me, makes me take risks, and teaches me to go with the flow. I hope it renews my strength and dignity and helps me to laugh at the days to come. (Prov. 31:25)
Ireland will change me. I know this.
Little did I know just how much it would change me or what I was really asking.
When the plane lifted off on June 28^th, I was a woman with a plan—have a wonderful five week study, return home to my last semester of college, graduate early, get married, and move across the country with my new husband to start my life. Now let me say these weren't just silly girlie hopes that I wanted to encounter—this was my actual plan I was coming home too. But at the end of my trip when I stepped off of that plane onto the ground at the Chicago airport, I was a woman who no longer had any direction or plans in life and only had one mantra running through my mind. Just run. Halfway through my trip my fiancé emailed me saying he no longer wanted to get married and the news threw my world off balance. I have been an organizer and a planner for as long as I can remember—I like having things laid out and in control. Ironically enough though one of my favorite Bible verses is Jeremiah 29:11, 'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.' It was what helped transition me from high school into college, and one of those lines I've passed along to friends over the years for reassurance when they were struggling in life. However, sometimes I struggle with believing it myself, which is why I was a big planner my first three years of college. Even though this verse brings peace to my heart, I often found the idea of let go and let God hard to wrap my mind around. But a year ago when I wrote that letter, I had no idea letting go and letting God was what I was really asking for.
The first thing I did the night in July when I read the news was lace up my sneakers and run. I just ran. For about an hour I found myself getting lost in the little Irish suburb of Booterstown and eventually found my way to the shoreline. There I decided no matter how long it took to get through all of the pain and hurt, I was going to run. I had ideas of half marathons and marathons and even the Iron Girl triathlon spinning around in my brain for the next three weeks and when I returned home, heart broken and lost, running kept me sane.
This past year has been a journey for me and it's still a journey I'm running. I've run through mountains and valleys, through mistakes and accomplishments, on treadmills and tracks, and even on a NCAA Division I track team. I've run for friends and family, for time and for distance, for fun and for competition. I've run through happiness and pain, rain and snow, despair and grace. I've run to lose and to gain, to find strength and to re-find my faith, to clear my head and heal my heart—but always, always I've run from my soul and out of hope.
I have a passion for running—since I was a little white-blonde bare footed girl—and a slight tendency to weave my pacing and musings into my writing. Mostly because running not only clears my head and feeds my soul but inspires me. Running gives me empowerment and strength and beauty and hope that all my perseverance will lead me to a glorious destiny. Running gives me a purposeful life. It is my metaphor in life. My God tells me that I should throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles [me], and run with perseverance the raced marked out. (Hebrews 12:1). And though I slip and fall many a time during this race of life, there is a grace inside of me which keeps my pace strong and even, and hope which encourages me on when I'm beaten, broken, and tired.
And that's where the new blog comes in—From Sole to Soul is the inspiration, experiences, journeys, pain, happiness, races, joy, love, adventure, and grace I live out through my soles. Live in hope with me and join me for my run through life.

The way of love is not
a subtle argument.

The door there
is devastation.

Birds make great sky-circles
of their freedom.

How do they learn it? They fall, and falling,
they're given wings.
-Rumi