I have lots of new material to blog about, and a couple of posts that are rattling around in my brain driving me crazy. None of that matters today, because today my friend April DeLoach got the news she has been waiting for. Not just any news, but THE news. Her leukemia is in remission! Her bone marrow biopsy showed NO cancer cells, and no evidence of recurrence. Her blood cell counts are continuing to rise.
With the help of her donor, amazing oncologist, and fabulous nurses, she is getting to spend the holidays at home with her children, without the word leukemia hanging over her head. Literally thousands of prayers have gone up for this woman. Several hundred of them were mine. Through her beautiful, eloquent essays, she has shared her journey with the world. That journey had special significance for me, because it allowed me to access the thoughts that must have been going through my own mother's mind during her battle with cancer.
So today's post isn't filled with silly stories or witty observations. It's filled with praises for the one who is the reason for the season. April's life has been spared, her body rid of the monster we call cancer. If that isn't a Christmas miracle, I don't know what is.
Friday, December 20, 2013
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
The Half Marathon That Wasn't
"Oh, you signed up for the St. Jude half? I guarantee it will fall on the coldest day of the year," my actual marathon runner friend's husband informed me several months ago. His tone was decisive and full of "I know what I'm talking about." Apparently I should have listened to him, although by that point it was too late. We were already signed up and running 6 miles at a time. Coldest day of the year? I didn't like how that sounded. Oh well, we'll just dress in layers and it will be fine, or so I thought.
Training for a half marathon was difficult. Really difficult. When a friend told me that it would get sort of "intense" as it got closer to race time, I didn't really know what he meant. Consider me educated. If someone had told me a year ago that I would be running 10 miles outside at 6:00 AM on a very cold, rainy Saturday just to prepare for a race, I would have asked them what they were smoking. Add to that the fact that my husband, mister "I hate to run" was doing it with me, and I would have told you that the odds of us winning the lottery were better. But we did it, and we didn't pass out, catch on fire, or have anything else horrible happen to us.
So there we were, ready to take on those 13.1 miles and kick their collective asses. (Okay, fine, we were ready to line up, start running, and hope we survived until we could stagger across the finish line.) I was already planning to be in Memphis for a barrel race that weekend, so we headed out early Friday morning, headed to get the horses bedded down, pick up our race packets, and rush back to make my two barrel runs that night. And then the ice storm hit.
Since there was no race day packet pick up, we had to drive to downtown Memphis on Friday afternoon. We chipped the ice off the parking payment box, paid $10 to park, and headed into the expo to pick up our race bib numbers. The sidewalk was basically a solid sheet of ice, which made me wonder if I was going to even make it to pick up my number without busting my butt.
After ambling up the sidewalk like senior citizens for what seemed like miles, we made it inside. As you can imagine, the expo was full of stick figures in tight running pants, selling everything you can think of except an extra pair of lungs. My favorite shirt that I should have purchased but didn't said, "Please God let there be someone behind me to read this" on the back. I also loved the one with a sweating cartoon turtle that said, "I run. I am slow. Get over it." The expo was also full of smiling volunteers who were busy assuring us that the race was not about to be cancelled.
Looking at the weather report on my phone, I have to admit that I wasn't thrilled about the idea of running 13.1 miles in 19 degree weather. And just for fun, they were also predicting snow. Excellent. Oh, well, we had spent all this time getting ready, and my husband informed me that he didn't care how cold it was, if the gun went off he was going to be running that race.
I was still trying to figure out exactly how many layers I would need to wear to keep from freezing to death when the text message came. The race was cancelled. Cancelled. As in not going to happen. It took me several seconds to wrap my brain around the concept.
All.That.Work. No race, no finish line, no amazing sense of satisfaction and pride in myself for finishing. No bucket list item crossed off. Just another morning. What a letdown. Okay fine, a letdown and a tiny bit of relief. Have I mentioned that I wasn't looking forward to running in 19 degree weather?
So that was it. The story of the half marathon that wasn't. Yes, I'm still glad I trained for it. Yes, we are going to find another one. And no, I have no desire to run a full marathon. Yet.
Training for a half marathon was difficult. Really difficult. When a friend told me that it would get sort of "intense" as it got closer to race time, I didn't really know what he meant. Consider me educated. If someone had told me a year ago that I would be running 10 miles outside at 6:00 AM on a very cold, rainy Saturday just to prepare for a race, I would have asked them what they were smoking. Add to that the fact that my husband, mister "I hate to run" was doing it with me, and I would have told you that the odds of us winning the lottery were better. But we did it, and we didn't pass out, catch on fire, or have anything else horrible happen to us.
So there we were, ready to take on those 13.1 miles and kick their collective asses. (Okay, fine, we were ready to line up, start running, and hope we survived until we could stagger across the finish line.) I was already planning to be in Memphis for a barrel race that weekend, so we headed out early Friday morning, headed to get the horses bedded down, pick up our race packets, and rush back to make my two barrel runs that night. And then the ice storm hit.
Since there was no race day packet pick up, we had to drive to downtown Memphis on Friday afternoon. We chipped the ice off the parking payment box, paid $10 to park, and headed into the expo to pick up our race bib numbers. The sidewalk was basically a solid sheet of ice, which made me wonder if I was going to even make it to pick up my number without busting my butt.
After ambling up the sidewalk like senior citizens for what seemed like miles, we made it inside. As you can imagine, the expo was full of stick figures in tight running pants, selling everything you can think of except an extra pair of lungs. My favorite shirt that I should have purchased but didn't said, "Please God let there be someone behind me to read this" on the back. I also loved the one with a sweating cartoon turtle that said, "I run. I am slow. Get over it." The expo was also full of smiling volunteers who were busy assuring us that the race was not about to be cancelled.
Looking at the weather report on my phone, I have to admit that I wasn't thrilled about the idea of running 13.1 miles in 19 degree weather. And just for fun, they were also predicting snow. Excellent. Oh, well, we had spent all this time getting ready, and my husband informed me that he didn't care how cold it was, if the gun went off he was going to be running that race.
I was still trying to figure out exactly how many layers I would need to wear to keep from freezing to death when the text message came. The race was cancelled. Cancelled. As in not going to happen. It took me several seconds to wrap my brain around the concept.
All.That.Work. No race, no finish line, no amazing sense of satisfaction and pride in myself for finishing. No bucket list item crossed off. Just another morning. What a letdown. Okay fine, a letdown and a tiny bit of relief. Have I mentioned that I wasn't looking forward to running in 19 degree weather?
So that was it. The story of the half marathon that wasn't. Yes, I'm still glad I trained for it. Yes, we are going to find another one. And no, I have no desire to run a full marathon. Yet.
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
365 mile Courtney
With my very first half marathon looming, I had some extra motivation to drag my sleepy butt out of bed this morning. I ran my very first mile in February of this year, at the tender age of 35. Around that time, I also found a website called Moon Joggers. The site hosts virtual races and features a log that lets you record your mileage. When you sign up, you are asked to choose how far you plan to run that year. Selecting the "introductory" level of 365 miles, I signed up, having not a clue how far that really was.
I began to chip away at it, usually 3 or 4 miles at a time. I've dealt with shin splints, blisters, bruised ankles, chafing, sore muscles...you name it. But something amazing happened this morning. I knew after my ten mile run two weeks ago that I was getting close. After that run my left hip began to hurt, and I was forced to shorten some workouts and skip a couple altogether. So I woke up this morning knowing that I only had three more measly miles to go. Three more miles standing between me and 365.
My youngest child snuck into bed with us about midnight, and when the alarm went off this morning the last thing I wanted to do was get out of my warm bed with that precious sleeping child in it. But there they were, those three miles. Taunting me. Daring me to get up and get them out of the way.
I stumbled into the bathroom and put on my favorite gray running pants. I took the time to look in the mirror, just as I always do when I put on my running clothes. It's not out of vanity, it's an effort to convince myself that I really do look different than when I started running. As I have said before, I figure I ought to weigh about 98 pounds by now, which I certainly do not. I also came to an important realization about my gray pants. They should never be worn in public for any reason. Between the fact that they outline every inch of my dimply butt in great detail (which is definitely a bad thing) and the lovely camel toe in the front, you can rest assured that if you see me wearing these pants anywhere other than on my treadmill it is because I am there against my will. Add to that the fact that after my thighs sweat it looks like I've peed on myself. Definitely not the look you want to put out there for the world to see! (You're welcome for the visual imagery provided here. I see you smiling.)
So I got on that stupid treadmill and did it. Aching hip and all, I got through those last three miles. I have to say that reaching that goal was a ridiculously satisfying feeling. There was no fanfare. The heavens didn't open, and I didn't magically fit into my "skinny" jeans after I was done. But there was that voice in my head, the one that normally casts all sorts of doubt on any major undertaking, and today I forced it to say, "I DID IT."
I began to chip away at it, usually 3 or 4 miles at a time. I've dealt with shin splints, blisters, bruised ankles, chafing, sore muscles...you name it. But something amazing happened this morning. I knew after my ten mile run two weeks ago that I was getting close. After that run my left hip began to hurt, and I was forced to shorten some workouts and skip a couple altogether. So I woke up this morning knowing that I only had three more measly miles to go. Three more miles standing between me and 365.
My youngest child snuck into bed with us about midnight, and when the alarm went off this morning the last thing I wanted to do was get out of my warm bed with that precious sleeping child in it. But there they were, those three miles. Taunting me. Daring me to get up and get them out of the way.
I stumbled into the bathroom and put on my favorite gray running pants. I took the time to look in the mirror, just as I always do when I put on my running clothes. It's not out of vanity, it's an effort to convince myself that I really do look different than when I started running. As I have said before, I figure I ought to weigh about 98 pounds by now, which I certainly do not. I also came to an important realization about my gray pants. They should never be worn in public for any reason. Between the fact that they outline every inch of my dimply butt in great detail (which is definitely a bad thing) and the lovely camel toe in the front, you can rest assured that if you see me wearing these pants anywhere other than on my treadmill it is because I am there against my will. Add to that the fact that after my thighs sweat it looks like I've peed on myself. Definitely not the look you want to put out there for the world to see! (You're welcome for the visual imagery provided here. I see you smiling.)
So I got on that stupid treadmill and did it. Aching hip and all, I got through those last three miles. I have to say that reaching that goal was a ridiculously satisfying feeling. There was no fanfare. The heavens didn't open, and I didn't magically fit into my "skinny" jeans after I was done. But there was that voice in my head, the one that normally casts all sorts of doubt on any major undertaking, and today I forced it to say, "I DID IT."
Sunday, November 24, 2013
For My Girls
I took my children to see Disney on Ice this week. Since our experience with America's Funniest Videos and our trips to both Disneyland and Disney World, we are fans of all things Disney. The theme of the show was Princesses and Heroes, and as I watched the various stories play out, I began to think about relationships and the things I want for my girls. Perhaps it is losing my mother at an early age that makes me feel the need to write down what I am thinking for my daughters, or perhaps it is the fact that, like my own dad, I seem to be able to write things much more eloquently than I can say them. Either way, listen up, girls. Mom has something important to say.
Choose your spouse carefully. More carefully than you've ever selected anything in your life. Who you marry MATTERS. If you get it wrong, the ones who end up suffering for it may be your children. Learn to make yourself happy. If you spend your life waiting for a man to come along and make you "happy" you will always be disappointed.
Let's talk about the qualities that will make you attractive to the right man. Yes, there are men out there who will judge you solely on what you look like. That's their loss. While you should take care of yourself, and present an appearance that is generally clean and neat, real love is about so much more than physical beauty.
The right sort of men like women who are smart, confident, and kind. The least attractive women are those that are overbearing, spoiled, and entitled. You are ladies, and in the Southern tradition you should be gentle and kind on the outside, but tough as nails on the inside. Southern women are strong. Just because you have manners and morals doesn't mean that you are weak. It just means that you were brought up correctly.
All relationships ebb and flow in a natural rhythm. While physical attraction is important (and fun,) it will wane at some point. Ask people who have been married more than a couple of years and have kids. That's why it's so important for you as a couple to make time to physically reconnect with one another. Men and women who don't get the attention they need at home will look for it somewhere else.
There are times you will disagree. Fight fair, and be honest. Don't abuse your spouse or tolerate abuse from him. You owe it to yourself and your children to take care of their mother. Marry someone who communicates the way you do. This will cut down massively on the number of disagreements you have. If you are someone who likes to be hugged and told that you are loved on a daily basis, then look for someone who is affectionate and likes to talk. The strong, silent type is not for you.
I would encourage you to look for someone who has common interests. That's not to say that marrying someone who has different interests won't work. I know a couple who had nothing more in common when they married than the fact that they loved each other. They are together after many years, but it is only because they were committed to each other in a very real way. Their lack of common ground caused some real tension in their marriage.
My parents married when they were teenagers. My mother always said that people either grow together in a relationship or grow apart. She also had bulldog with a bone determination when it came to her marriage. She was willing to do whatever it took to make it work. Let me qualify that by saying that my dad was worth the trouble. He was worth fighting for, even if they didn't always see eye to eye on everything. That goes back to my first piece of advice - choose carefully!
I want nothing more than for you to be happy. I want to see you marry a man who loves and respects you, who makes you want to be a better person. I want you to to be told each and every day that you are wonderful, special, and valuable. And I want to see you marry a man that is worthy of your dedication and support. You will be his biggest cheerleader, the one who inspires him to go out and work hard, knowing that he has an amazing woman to come home to at the end of the day. It won't be perfect, but I promise it will be worth it. And if you still need help knowing what to look for, I'll make it easy for you. Just look for someone like your dad.
Choose your spouse carefully. More carefully than you've ever selected anything in your life. Who you marry MATTERS. If you get it wrong, the ones who end up suffering for it may be your children. Learn to make yourself happy. If you spend your life waiting for a man to come along and make you "happy" you will always be disappointed.
Let's talk about the qualities that will make you attractive to the right man. Yes, there are men out there who will judge you solely on what you look like. That's their loss. While you should take care of yourself, and present an appearance that is generally clean and neat, real love is about so much more than physical beauty.
The right sort of men like women who are smart, confident, and kind. The least attractive women are those that are overbearing, spoiled, and entitled. You are ladies, and in the Southern tradition you should be gentle and kind on the outside, but tough as nails on the inside. Southern women are strong. Just because you have manners and morals doesn't mean that you are weak. It just means that you were brought up correctly.
All relationships ebb and flow in a natural rhythm. While physical attraction is important (and fun,) it will wane at some point. Ask people who have been married more than a couple of years and have kids. That's why it's so important for you as a couple to make time to physically reconnect with one another. Men and women who don't get the attention they need at home will look for it somewhere else.
There are times you will disagree. Fight fair, and be honest. Don't abuse your spouse or tolerate abuse from him. You owe it to yourself and your children to take care of their mother. Marry someone who communicates the way you do. This will cut down massively on the number of disagreements you have. If you are someone who likes to be hugged and told that you are loved on a daily basis, then look for someone who is affectionate and likes to talk. The strong, silent type is not for you.
I would encourage you to look for someone who has common interests. That's not to say that marrying someone who has different interests won't work. I know a couple who had nothing more in common when they married than the fact that they loved each other. They are together after many years, but it is only because they were committed to each other in a very real way. Their lack of common ground caused some real tension in their marriage.
My parents married when they were teenagers. My mother always said that people either grow together in a relationship or grow apart. She also had bulldog with a bone determination when it came to her marriage. She was willing to do whatever it took to make it work. Let me qualify that by saying that my dad was worth the trouble. He was worth fighting for, even if they didn't always see eye to eye on everything. That goes back to my first piece of advice - choose carefully!
I want nothing more than for you to be happy. I want to see you marry a man who loves and respects you, who makes you want to be a better person. I want you to to be told each and every day that you are wonderful, special, and valuable. And I want to see you marry a man that is worthy of your dedication and support. You will be his biggest cheerleader, the one who inspires him to go out and work hard, knowing that he has an amazing woman to come home to at the end of the day. It won't be perfect, but I promise it will be worth it. And if you still need help knowing what to look for, I'll make it easy for you. Just look for someone like your dad.
Friday, November 22, 2013
Just Keep Going
I gained 40 pounds when I was pregnant with my twins. Months (not weeks) after they were born, I managed to lose 60 pounds by walking on my treadmill. I will never forget someone asking me how I lost so much weight. "An hour a day uphill on my treadmill," I replied. She made a face, then said, "Oh, well I don't want to do that!" I guess she expected me to say that I used a crazy diet or took some magic weight loss pill. Sorry to disappoint you lady, but I lost it the old fashioned way. I burned more calories than I took in.
After my third child came along, I was once again left with some "baby weight." I dusted off the treadmill and started walking again. Feeling froggy, I started running for the first time in my life. Let me be clear. I was running to lose weight, with no desire to compete or even run faster than a jog. Then one of my high school classmates was diagnosed with leukemia. When I told my husband about a 5k and bone marrow drive fundraiser for her, he immediately began pushing me to enter the race. When I protested, he insisted that I "had" to run it because I "could."
So I did, and what do you know...I really had a good time. I kept running, working my way slowly but surely through the Couch to 5k and then 5k to 10k apps on my phone. My running also began to have an unintended consequence. My husband, never one to be outdone, began to run, too. As he had run before (in the Army) and was in better shape than I was to begin with, he immediately began to smoke my tail in all our races. The fact that I actually inspired the person I love and admire the most to improve his health is really, really exciting.
I mentioned that I started entering races because of my friend April's leukemia diagnosis. I signed up for the bone marrow registry for her, and honestly hoped and prayed that I would be a match. I wasn't, but becoming involved in her support network ended up having the most amazing and profound side effect that I can think of.
Through the magic of Facebook, April began to share her journey with the world. She happens to be a very gifted writer, brutally honest about her feelings, setbacks, and personal issues. I don't know whether she began to write for the same reason I do sometimes, to quiet some of the noise in my head, or because she wanted to record her thoughts for her kids. I do know that it doesn't matter. As unintentional as it was, she gave me one of the most precious gifts I have ever received. She gave me a glimpse into the thoughts and feelings my mother must have had as she battled cancer herself.
With grace, wit, and style, April spelled out the things my mom never shared with me. Did she call herself protecting me? Probably. I can't help but think she may have had a hand in revealing all these things to me now that I am an adult.
Hopefully I haven't bored you too much. I've said all these things to say this: whatever you are doing, whatever you are facing, keep going. When other people stop, just keep going. You never know who you might be influencing, intentionally or not.
After my third child came along, I was once again left with some "baby weight." I dusted off the treadmill and started walking again. Feeling froggy, I started running for the first time in my life. Let me be clear. I was running to lose weight, with no desire to compete or even run faster than a jog. Then one of my high school classmates was diagnosed with leukemia. When I told my husband about a 5k and bone marrow drive fundraiser for her, he immediately began pushing me to enter the race. When I protested, he insisted that I "had" to run it because I "could."
So I did, and what do you know...I really had a good time. I kept running, working my way slowly but surely through the Couch to 5k and then 5k to 10k apps on my phone. My running also began to have an unintended consequence. My husband, never one to be outdone, began to run, too. As he had run before (in the Army) and was in better shape than I was to begin with, he immediately began to smoke my tail in all our races. The fact that I actually inspired the person I love and admire the most to improve his health is really, really exciting.
I mentioned that I started entering races because of my friend April's leukemia diagnosis. I signed up for the bone marrow registry for her, and honestly hoped and prayed that I would be a match. I wasn't, but becoming involved in her support network ended up having the most amazing and profound side effect that I can think of.
Through the magic of Facebook, April began to share her journey with the world. She happens to be a very gifted writer, brutally honest about her feelings, setbacks, and personal issues. I don't know whether she began to write for the same reason I do sometimes, to quiet some of the noise in my head, or because she wanted to record her thoughts for her kids. I do know that it doesn't matter. As unintentional as it was, she gave me one of the most precious gifts I have ever received. She gave me a glimpse into the thoughts and feelings my mother must have had as she battled cancer herself.
With grace, wit, and style, April spelled out the things my mom never shared with me. Did she call herself protecting me? Probably. I can't help but think she may have had a hand in revealing all these things to me now that I am an adult.
Hopefully I haven't bored you too much. I've said all these things to say this: whatever you are doing, whatever you are facing, keep going. When other people stop, just keep going. You never know who you might be influencing, intentionally or not.
Saturday, November 16, 2013
Ten Mile Courtney
I did two things I've never done before today. I ran ten miles, and I ran with my husband. As the parents of three small children, we generally have to take turns running. Sometimes it means running on the treadmill, sometimes it means running at the park after dark. Often it means running very early in the morning before everyone wakes up, or logging miles on the treadmill long after the kids have gone to sleep. So this morning was a rare treat.
I'm used to training and racing with my music. Today was not only the farthest I've ever run, it was one of the only times I've ever run without my earphones and some musical motivation. I'm also not used to having someone to talk to, and I have to admit it was nice.
I mentioned that I don't usually run or race with my husband. This is by design, as he is in better shape and prefers to run faster than I do. True to form, he pushed the pace today, as he said to "see if" I would run faster. I am happy to say that I managed to keep up, although I'm not about to say it wasn't hard. Pretty much every muscle I have hurts tonight. One foot has a throbbing bunion, and the other has a toe that is one big blister. I have a strange catch in my left hip, and a knee that hurt me for the first time today.
I spent some time this afternoon watching the coverage of the Ironman World Championships from Hawaii. For those who are unfamiliar with the special brand of torture that is an Ironman triathalon, it consists of a 2.4 mile swim, a roughly 120 mile bike ride, and a 26.2 mile run. Watching these insane people finish this race as I evaluated my various aches and pains has led me to deduce that I am a candy ass.
That said, this wiggly, jiggly, panting person who has never thought of herself as an athlete ran TEN miles this morning. Yes, I will pay for it tomorrow, but for today it feels really, really good.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
I didn't marry wealthy, I married willing.
It's possible that I have taken on too much. Lately parenting, keeping two barrel horses ridden, starting two new businesses, and training for my first half marathon has left very little time for blogging. Well, I say that...I write the most spectacular blog posts in my mind every morning in the shower. Unfortunately, inside my brain is also where blog posts go to die. The only reason I'm able to write this one is because I am waiting the prerequisite year and a half to see our pediatrician for my baby's three year old checkup. Seriously, I think she will be closer to four than three by the time we get out of here.
Life has been unbelievably stressful lately. Yes, yes I know. While my FB news feed is packed to the brim with people telling me what they are thankful for, I am being the party pooper. But I'm just telling the truth. I am blessed beyond measure, and I truly try not to take a single thing for granted. But the fact is, my husband quit his job out of loyalty to a coworker a couple of weeks ago, and starting our own new projects has predictably taken longer than expected.
That said, I support my husband's decision to quit 110%. He absolutely and without a doubt did the right thing. Now, because I believe in being honest with the fabulous folks who read my random thoughts and musings, I have to tell you that the fact that I believe in and support my husband did not stop me from being a scared wife. Uncertainty is never comfortable, and I am the first one to admit that I have been short or cranky with my husband simply because I was afraid of what the next day would hold. Fortunately for me, my husband is slow to anger and has the patience of Job. (Obviously, because he's still married to me!)
Like everyone else, I marvel all the time at what a diverse group of FB friends I have collected over the years. I am friends with lots of women. Single women, married women, women who work, women who stay home, gay women, straight women...pretty much any sort of woman you can think of. Therefore, there are a myriad of opinions at any given point in time. As I've gotten older (happens to the best of us) I have learned to occasionally sit back and watch the drama unfold without commenting. It's kind of like a car wreck that you can see coming. You know the big "boom" is coming, so you just draw up and wait.
The other day, it took all my self control to keep my fingers still when a working mom told a stay at home mom that obviously she "married wealthy." I could practically feel the disdain dripping from her comment. I managed to stay out of it at the time, but the more I thought about it the more it bothered me.
So here's my response to her snarky comment, although she'll never see it. I didn't marry "wealthy," I married "willing." I married an amazing man who is willing to go out into the world, kill something and drag it home. He has had multiple jobs since we married, some that he loved and others he hated. But he's always agreed with me, that our children receive the best care from their mom. So off he goes every morning, my knight in shining armor. He would protect any of us with his life. He works hard. Occasionally he works Sundays, or holidays, or late into the night. He does dirty jobs, thankless jobs, and distasteful jobs. He does jobs that make his hands ache and his heart hurt. But he does them, for us. If that's not a true expression of love, I don't know what is.
I guess this post started out as a complaint, but in writing it I found out what I am truly thankful for. I'm thankful I married well, not wealthy. I'm thankful that in all the things that truly matter, my life is overflowing.
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