Perfect Run

I have been running (again) for almost two months now, having taken the plunge at the end of June. It's been pretty good, but, really, in the last few weeks mostly hard and not so good. I've discovered that one of the best ways for me to get started on something that requires real effort - whether it's writing or running or some such effortful thing - is to sneak up on it. For instance, if I need to write a grant, I tell myself that I'll just go check my e-mail, maybe write a few messages, and then just open a grant document, read a few things, fill in some information, and before I know it, I'm actually writing a grant. With running, I'll start talking myself out of it (too tired, other things I want to do, getting to dark/cold/rainy), and I'll decide just to take a walk. Then walking is too slow and before I know it, I'm running.

I missed my usual run time on Tuesday so I dropped the kids off at daycare on Wednesday and went over to Golden Ponds to just take a walk - or maybe run - before work. It was a beautiful, late summer morning with just the slightest, not at all uncomfortable chill. The pond water was almost flat, reminding me of perfect crew days on the Chesapeake Bay, and reflected the newly snow capped Rocky Mountains. Ducks and pond birds were out, started for the morning. I enjoyed the feel of walking and running along the gravel path, saying hello to other walkers and runners, such that I had the energy to run longer than I had since getting back to it. I got in my car with skin cool from the morning air and a brain exceptionally happy on a runner's high that carried me through past lunch. How blessed I felt to live in such a place where I can take such a pleasurable run. Morning is definitely my favorite time to run.

I have been wondering how much running is a part of me. The main speaker at the youth conference I work with, RYM, explained during one his sermons this year that when he thinks of himself, running is deeply part of him. I ran in high school in both cross country and the track team. I ran off and on through college, after college and ran a half marathon the day before I found out I was pregnant with Harper. I've put in a lot of miles, but I'm not sure how much running really is me. It often feels like a second choice in exercise because it's easy (put on shoes, go out door, run) and cheap. I realized on my perfect run that the sports I love are those that involve precise body positions and and an emphasis on body position - gymnastics, dance, crew, yoga, cross country skiing. Sports that are just about speed and covering distance don't do as much for me.

I will keep running, though, if for nothing else than to have more perfect runs and a space to fall in love with athletic activity.

(The picture is of Golden Ponds - beautiful!)

Couplehood 101

My sister, Clare, and I have been living in the same state now for almost three years. We have both had children the whole time. In July, Clare had an absolutely amazing idea - to trade off weekends with our kids. It was one of those head smacking moments. Why did we not think of this before?

The first weekend of August, my nephew, Jaden, stayed with us. This was great fun for all of us because we've missed Jaden since he's moved back in with his mom (while being so glad he got to move home after Clare came back from Iraq), because he and Asher are such good buddies, because he influences Asher to include Harper in playing, and because Jaden comes up with things that become stories we will laugh about for a long time.

This last weekend, we took Asher and Harper up to Jaden's house and headed back home for a weekend to ourselves. This was weird. This was a little scary. No children for over 24 hours. Just the amount of time on our hands! And the forecast was for rain all weekend. What would we do?

Michael and I had spent a good nine or so years together before we had kids. I felt out of practice as to how to do such a thing and, really, just a ghost of who I was/we were back then. But I was up to the challenge of being alone together in the new (and better) state of our selves and our relationship. I felt some kinship to empty nesters. While not feeling quite natural Saturday morning because two additional people and lots of responsibilities were missing, we soon relaxed into a great time together tooling around Longmont and Boulder, eating at restaurants, going to a movie, playing pool with friends. We could just take it easy, not worrying about schedules or naptimes or meal times or how to handle children interrupting conversations. It was wonderful. The kids had a great time tearing apart someone else's house, playing together, trying makeup for the first time (Harper only with her aunt who is much better with makeup than me), running like crazy, collapsing at night, traipsing around Ft. Collins.

We picked up the kids on Sunday and went to Grace Presbyterian Church in Ft. Collins, returning home after naptime. It was also wonderful to be reunited as a family while also having time as a couple. I am so thankful to have my sister and brother-in-law in town to exchange kids and to practice being a couple with Michael.

Oh, for Delicious Sleep

Me and sleep just ain't gettin' along so well these days. My brain is so tired I can't hardly type good. There's a combination here of too much fun stuff to read on TV (um, yes, I just typed that) - too much fun stuff to WATCH on TV, too many fun books to read (stupid books that can't be put down), too many children and animals making midnight prowls, and too many blogs to write. I just happened to get a wild hare (or hair) about starting a blog for beginning grant writers and maybe generating some income off of it. I got this idea at about 11:00 p.m. one night two weeks ago and couldn't sleep until I jotted down the 30 or so blog post ideas I had. And then I got in bed and wrote several in my head (so helpful, because I know I won't remember them).

Three nights ago, I made a really good effort to get into bed early . . . and then was up for two or three hours not because of the stupid blog (curse blogging!) but because I had antsy legs, the sheets had crumbs and dirt, the fan was making too much noise, the dog we are dogsitting was walking around and clicking her nails, the cat was sleeping on my antsy legs, the closet light was too bright even with the door closed (which stems from the fact that a. my house has only one closet, b. that closet is between the two bedrooms, and c. my children won't sleep without that light on), and it was off and on too hot and too cold. Two nights ago, I was awoken from absolutely delicious sleep (you know the kind when you are out, out and so relaxed and not even dreaming) by dear Asher who needed his blanket spread out, and then spread out again, and then spread out again and then ice in his cup until I threatened to turn out the damn closet light that keeps me up anyway. And I just wanted to sleep!

Last night, I started to actually get the blog up last night (redundant much? so many fun things to do - choose a name, choose a free blog site, rechoose a name, choose a template, find a header picture, do the about section, and then scrap it all because I chose the wrong free blog site), couldn't sleep and was up until 1:00 a.m. fussing with the thing and writing imaginary blog posts in my head (and, oh, they sound good after midnight). Oh, me and my brilliant ideas. When the heck am I going to find the time to keep up with another blog (I also got the brilliant idea to start one for work).

So today I am tired, tired, and brought my carafe of coffee to work, and then drank too much so that I have caffeine stomach. I have very little patience, especially for people with limited intelligence (as if I can really keep up with anyone with much intelligence), or for small children who just won't let me take a shower without it being a communal affair and encompassing the entire bathroom. I do have to say that it's nice for good things to be keeping me up and not some major life crisis. Tonight I shall seek some delicious sleep (please, please, please).

Note: Check out the bed I found!! I think I need a tree bed!

My Schedule

Way back when, I never dreamed of either being married or having children. I just didn't think it was for me. By the time we had Jaden living with us and we had Asher, I know both were for me. I love having children and being witness to and parent in their wonderment. I also love my work and having an adult space in which to create and to be a part of my community.

I have been so fortunate to find a good balance between work and kids. I work about 35 hours for a local non-profit but spend only three days in the office, usually Monday, Wednesday and Friday. This week, due to Asher being sick last week, I also worked Tuesday. So yesterday, I woke up to a home that was the victim to my three days of being at work - a dishwasher full of clean dishes, a sink and countertop full of dirty dishes, little food in the refrigerator, no coffee, dust bunnies the size of baseballs, five loads of laundry (make that six after Harper's nap time maneuvers in which she removed her diaper and managed to poop mostly on the floor while staying in her crib), a stack of overdue library books, a toilet that was so dirty I didn't even want to pee in it, children who had not been washed in the last four days, and Asher's "bigger blankie" (quilt) that just may have not made it into the wash after a cat poop incident two days before. It was a bad scene. I spent most of the day making up for lost time and not nearly enough time with my kids. We were no longer at risk of having our kids taken away by social services for health violations, but I was sad to have spent so much time cleaning.

Weeks when I do work three days in a row or four days in a week or spend an extra day at home with sick kids, I am so thankful (and feel so spoiled) by the end of the week for my schedule and the time I get to spend with my kids, not cleaning, and in the office, satisfying my need to do things. My hats are off to all the moms who do work inside or outside the home full time (although, I have to say, as a mom, there's no way to be part time).

Proud to be an American

I was quite excited when the Olympics started. I dragged Michael along to watch the opening ceremonies (which, thank you very much, he ended up really liking). I stayed up late to watch all the nations march in, amazed again at the number of countries I'd never heard of and those that have a smaller population than the city I live in.

I watched at least three nights of gymnastics and lots of swimming and diving, but by last night, I couldn't watch any more. I still love the Olympic spirit and the competition drama and watching humans do amazing things, but I am absolutely sick of the commentators. I don't want to hear one more commentator try to guess who is going to win a freakin' gold medal or make another stupid comment about an athlete's mistake - just shut up and let me watch!! (I'm a little irate there - can feel my blood boiling again).

All that to say that I missed the individual gymnastics c0mpetition last night. I just had no desire to watch. I happened to catch the Today's show coverage of the competition this morning at my kids' daycare. And there was Nastia Luikin and Shawn Johnson with their gold and silver medals. I almost cried seeing them on the medal stand and then Nastia hugging her dad, who won an Olumpic medal some 20 years ago as a Russian gymnast. What really gets me, what amazes me again about our country is that our female gymnasts can compete against and win over (interesting that China won the team, and we won the individual) gymnasts who leave their families at age 3 and train their entire life in gymnastics. I heard an NPR story about former Chinese athletes, and the wreck their life was after sports without any other training or hope or career. While our elite gymnasts and other athletes may not have an entirely normal life (and no doubt they have priveleges not available in other countries and valuable things to learn from other athletes), they certainly have a better one, more opportunities with their family, opportunities for school and career, and, if they want to leave their sport, opportunities beyond being an elite athlete (China's lead gymnast once called her parents because she wanted to come home, and they told her to stay - because they new what her athletic career would do for their family). And they can still be major competition on the world stage.

I can berate my country and cry over injustices we have created, but once again, I am so proud to be a part of a country that has such amazing top athletes and platforms for athletes to excel without destroying childhoods.

(Note: Photo from www.nbcolympics.com, home of an elite band of annoying athletic commentators).

Branch by Branch

Not too long ago, I blogged about emotional capacity - both the capacity for feeling bad things and good things. The week after I wrote the entry, in counseling, our (Michael and my) therapist talked about building our capacity for positive things and what prevents us from either going after good things or really feeling the pleasure of life. I fully believe God, among other things, created good things for us to enjoy and take great pleasure in. Life is not to be puritanical and about deprivation but about fully enjoying our world - nature, food, drink, friends, our bodies, play, family, sleep, entertainment, books, art, crafts, hobbies . . .

I know and believe this, but I am still sometimes frozen by the actual feeling of pleasure, afraid of it ending or turning bad or something terible that I didn't know suddenly erupting. No doubt, all of these fears will come true, but I am working on being present to good and pleasurable things and to seeking them out.

In the same session, we talked about my and Michael's work and careers. I shared my dream jobs - working in education policy (I know, Aunt Moo - it's not the end all be all, but I just can't shake my fascination with it!), being a full time writer and working as a college professor. I have at some time during my life shot down each one of these dreams with nicely aimed, critical, negative bullets, including not enough time, not enough education, not worth it, not being in the right circles. I have started to dream about getting a PhD again and looking at some of the programs close by (can't be a coincidence that I got an e-mail the Monday after our session for a grantors' site visit and the person coming is the Communications and Development Director for the Center for Education Policy Analysis at teh University of Colorado in Denver!).

Thinking about pleasure, I realize that I have one other fear of taking the next step, a strange, overwhelming feeling of responsiblity for making something good happen. At work, I have recently had a few nonaggressive and totally well-meaning occurrences of someone else doing my job. This spurred me on to take a few projects by the reins and make a few phone calls, send some e-mails, make connections to move projects forward without waiting for someone else to do it (maybe that's just doing my job!). If I look too far forward, I suddenly fear the weight of these projects, in particular a Latin American festival and fundraiser with a local orchestra. Holy crap! I think. If I do this and then this and then this (the power of an individual!). . . it's really going to happen. Part of me prefers the safety of my office chair, typing out grant applications, letting project after project quietly slip by.

I remember while sorting through the falling apartness of my marriage just taking the next right step, seeing the next branch in the tree - not sure of what the next branch or even the top looked like. I stayed sane in climbing deliberately one branch at a time without trying to guess or ask for what God's plan was. And branch, after branch, God showed me the way (with such grace). So I need to practice with pleasure and good things both being on the branch and climbing just the next one (whether it's in full, beautiful spring bloom or full of bugs and crumbling wood or even the wrong branch such that I have to back up and try again), knowing there will always be branches to support me and grace amidst the leaves.

I Also Heart Parades

This week is the annual Boulder County Fair, held at the Boulder County Fairgrounds in my fair city. I took the kids on Wednesday to "Kids Day," which was an interesting and quite lackluster day that may have even disappointed the kids, especially because we had to walk by all the fair rides which wouldn't run until 4:00 (you'd think they might have just a few running during the day on "Kids Day," of all days - sheesh!) and all the closed concession stands. At least I wore closed toed shoes.

We saw some large pigs and quite an array of goats being taken care of by 4-H kids. Asher and Harper gave the animals but a sideways look. Asher shrieked at the idea of face painting. They did enjoy climbing on and destroying some hay bails set up in one of the exhibit halls (an activity which was quickly outlawed by someone who looked semi-in-charge, at least he had a big broom), climbing through a string maze (I was amazed how much they enjoyed this), jumping in a bouncy castle, overseen by a woman who looked and acted like she was missing a few screws (I tried to "donate" - i.e. forcibly pay - for the bounce time, but she dismissed the donation because she didn't have change for a $20), and seeing some of the projects done by other 4-H kids (those kids are busy!), which they attempted to destroy in various ways.

As sad as the kids day was, I was even more sad to find out last Sunday that I had missed the Boulder County Fair parade on Main Street because I absolutely heart parades. I love every parade from the small, local Christmas parade to the big NYC Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade!! I mean, I really love them. I love the kitschy-ness, the homemade floats, the big balloons, the people waving, everyone lining up on the streets to watch other people go by, the parade princesses, the horses, the marching bands, the stuff people in the parade throw. I just love the absolute silliness of it all. I love to go to them (been to the Rose Bowl Parde and NYC Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade), to watch them on TV (and to watch one parade on several cable channels - oh, yeah). Some day, I dream of actually being in a parade. Now that I think of it, that could be good PR for the non-profit I work for.

Wall

I have a journal given to me by a college boyfriend. He wrote on the inside, "So that you may speak to yourself if not to me." I remember when I dated this particular boyfriend having things I wanted to tell him, having deep emotions I wanted to share with him and feeling a quite physical red brick wall blocking the words from exiting my mouth. After we broke up - for many reasons, including my inability to deal any longer with him pushing me to talk (because I just couldn't at that time, as if he was asking me to walk outside the dorm, place my hands on the wall around the campus quad and push that wall over). I wrote two stories around that time in which walls played a big part - one was a monologue in which the speaker built a brick wall as she spoke and the other was a short story in which three girls go out to play beyond a wall around their house and beyond the wall is a labyrinth of other walls.

When I met Michael, I explicitly remember feeling freer with him, freer in not only playing and hanging out and enjoying games and food and time together - a relaxing - but also freer in talking. I did not feel the pressure to speak only as if I had everything together.

I have not quite pieced out where my fear of talking comes from - some of it is personality (I am a green after all!); some of it is family circumstances in which there was not room for strong emotions and possible really bad consequences for such things; some of it is lack of practice; some of it is fear of scaring people with my past and with my authentic self; some of it is being self-consumed, so in my head that I can't get out; some of it is perfectionism and always wanting to say the right thing; some of it is not realizing just what is normal, especially for women (for all those women I know who have told me or written about how they feel overly-emotional, overly-complicated, a basket case - thank you).

At our Wednesday counseling session, which was one of those sessions that started out innocent and with some joking and too quickly came to the edge of thereallydifficultImightfallapart, I realized that as much as I talk more now, as much as I have opened up my life to others, as much as I have pushed that wall over, I still suck at talking, and particularly with Michael. Too often I am not present in the moment but lost in my head, thinking ahead, having followed a rabbit trail of thought and let hundreds of extraneous things enter a conversation that only I can hear. Too often I don't mention things because I don't want to talk about them (refer to top ten lessons learned in last two years - hiding doesn't make life better) or am afraid to talk about them - letting the emotion overwhelm, letting another see me overwhelmed, possibly hurting another with my emotion (side note - somewhere I picked up that emotions can be weapons), and, especially now as Michael and I work through things, I fear talking too much about hard things.

During one of my Tuesday nights with Ardis and Shari, we shared with each other strengths and weaknesses we see in each other as friends. This was a good exercise in vulnerability for all of us - being truthful with each other and receiving truth from close friends with openness. Shari and Ardis said that I can come across as too independent and closed off, not sharing more of my life with others. To them I asked what that sharing looks like because I am only beginning to see.

Because I thought I worked so hard on talking more, I am partly devasted in realizing that I have only climbed a small portion of this tree. I want to be able to look up with hope and gratitude, realizing how much of this tree that I had not seen in the past, how many of the leaves, the branches, the way the tree shades and shakes.

(The picture is of a Roman wall built 2000 years ago in England. Walls can stand for a long time, testiments to protection, boundaries, human achievement or privacy, inequality, war. As I have been encouraged to do, I need to gently accept this part of myself even as I want my wall to just freakin' fall down already).

All Things Boulder

It's nice when a city meets all of my expectations. I was in Boulder Wednesday for an extended time between counseling and coordinating some video taping for the non-profit I work for and was buoyed up during my visit by all things Boulder. I entered our counselor's serene office to the tinkle of a small wind chime and briefly enjoyed the Buddha saying on the wall hanging before Isabelle met with us and channeled some of her body language/energy work throughout our session. Michael and I parked our cars at Michael's office at the far west end of Canyon, and we walked down (passing the kids at a Renaissance camp learning to battle with foam swords) to have lunch at Centro, enjoying fresh avocado salsa and tacos. Michael headed back to work, and I walked over to the Community Foundation, housed in an historic Boulder mansion, to meet staff, board members and a youth for the taping. One of the Foundation staff members gave us fresh cookies on our way out.

Walking back to Michael's office to pickup my car, I passed Bodyworks, voted Boulder's best chair massage place and got stopped by a young woman with long blonde dreads, a nose ring and knitted bag to sign petitions. Feeling somewhat sorry for her working in the summer heat (it was over 100 on Wednesday) and not opposed to the issues, I signed the petitions. I looked up and saw the Flat Irons rising above the Pearl Street buildings - still a surprise to me, these mountains right there. I stopped at Spruce Confections and picked up two iced teas - in compostable cups, no less and of course (this is Boulder). Halfway to Michael's office, having walked past cute houses, offices in houses, beautiful gardens, one of Michael's coworkers saw me and picked me up, and I enjoyd a cool ride the rest of the way. At Michael's office I greeted the threeoffice dogs and, as Asher would say, their humans.

Boulder is many things, and what often strikes me is what an interesting hot bed of liberalism, generosity, tradition, new agism, environmentalism, self-expression and beauty it is. I am rarely disappointed on my visits.