“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say,’Look for the helpers, you will always find people who are helping.’” — Fred Rogers

I know. There is good in this world. Yesterday’s horrific bombing in Boston is just another testament to the fact that humanity is in fact GOOD. The first responders, the runners, the innocent bystanders, that ran TOWARD the bombing area, who helped and comforted. They are GOOD. “The good outnumber you, and we always will.” –Patton Oswalt

I know.

I know this is what I should focus on, the way people show their goodness and bravery during horrible events, but right now, I’m just so angry. I may or may not have mentioned in the past few years that I’ve become a runner. And I may have also mentioned how becoming a part of the running community has changed my life, through camaraderie and support. This senseless act feels personal, maybe in the same way it feels personal to anyone who is a runner, or knows a runner, or lives in Boston, or is maybe just human.

Miles to go before I sleep. –Robert Frost

While running the Knoxville half a week ago, I was blown away by the support for those of us running shown by our community. The people cheering along the course and holding their signs is not only motivating, it’s humbling. To have someone yell, “You’re doing great! Keep going,” is just such an amazing feeling.

(Photo credit: katielann12 via Flickr)

And people who were cheering on runners yesterday in Boston, family members and strangers alike–and they were injured or killed by a bomb??? A child who was at the finish line cheering on runners and he…DIED??

Just yesterday morning while running with friends, we were talking about whether or not to run a marathon next year. We’re what you might call marathon-curious. We come from a place where we never thought we’d be able to run three miles, then never thought we’d run six miles, to running THREE half marathons in a year. A marathon? Yeah. Maybe. Maybe it is something we could do.

Our hesitation partly rests squarely on the shoulders of time and pain. Training for a marathon is no small thing, there are hours upon hours that would have to be devoted to logging miles. Time away from family, time away from other commitments in life, all to do something that hurts and is so, very hard. But it’s also so very rewarding.

Obviously the loss of life is by far the worst thing that happened as a result of this senseless tragedy. THE WORST, make no mistake. But what also makes me so angry, is that this marathon experience was totally ruined. They never got to cross the finish line. After all that work and time and pain.

None of this is fair. I’m angry. I feel helpless. I’m going to wear a race shirt today, as a show of support for the victims of the bombing and for the city of Boston, but let’s be honest–that’s not actually doing anything helpful.

I’m a runner, a human, a horrified observer. I want to do something meaningful, but I don’t even know what that is.

Please don’t take my lack of posting about my recent half marathon as an indication that said half marathon was somehow not that great or not worth mentioning. It? Was AWESOME. EPIC. AMAZING.

But before I tell you about the race itself, in excruciating detail (just kidding, I’ll just mention a few highlights), I have to tell you the adventure in trying to get to Phoenix.

It all began the Thursday of my flight when lo and behold, it started snowing. In a place such a Minnesota or Canada, the snow that was falling was nothing to be concerned about, but in a place like Knoxville, it was nearly a State of Emergency. There is snow! And it is falling! So therefore we all must drive 2 miles per hour on the Interstate! We’re all going to perish!

Luckily I did finally reach the airport, where I met my friends at the bar (obviously). Thanks to “all the snow,” our flight was delayed, but supposedly (this is what we in the business call “foreshadowing”) we had pleeeeeeeeenty of time to make our connection in Houston. We chuckled about how when we originally booked the flight months and months ago, we had each paid a little more to fly through Houston instead of Chicago in order to avoid weather delays and here we were having weather delays in K-town.

After a mix up with a frightened pilot and a malfunctioning de-icer truck, we were off! Like a herd of turtles! When we finally landed in Houston, we had exactly 10 minutes to run approximately 47 miles to the next terminal to make our connection to Phoenix. Dripping with sweat, carrying my purse and carry-on luggage, we made it in 9 minutes where we were told that there were no seats left. Apparently, United Airlines wasn’t planning on us being runners, capable of actually making the flight, as they had given away our seats. It didn’t help that the lady working the desk at the gate was a big ol’ meany head.

Anyway, United Airlines gave us food vouchers and hotel rooms and booked us on a flight the following morning. I mean, it wasn’t ideal, but it did lead us to discovering the Most Delicious Sandwich Ever (TM). Spread with herb cream cheese, this toasted asiago bagel was topped with turkey, cucumbers, and sprouts. Our once sad panda faces were suddenly transformed into amazed faces, happy to be eating this most delightful sandwich–in an airport, no less.

You know, food really does make things better sometimes.

And now, the race recap.

I’ll skip over the horrors of the port-a-potties we encountered before the race. Let’s just say that I’m scarred for LIFE.

These smiling faces are not an indication of how we felt about the port-a-potties.

The thing about running is that some days are just great and some days just suck. You pray for the great days on race days, where you ate the exact right amount of food, not so much that you get stomach cramps, not too little that you have no energy. You pray that you are, um, well, able to take care of business before the race so that you don’t need to go along the way. You will your body to not break down anywhere along the route. You hope that the weather is right, not too cold, definitely not too hot. Everything needs to be just right.

That’s just exactly what happened, too. Everything was just right. Phoenix weather in January is gorgeous, the race started in the upper 40′s and ended in the upper 50′s to low 60′s. The race was well organized, with plenty of time between corrals so that there wasn’t a huge jumble of racers clogging up the pace. I felt great for most of the race, gradually getting faster with each mile.

Before the race we’d heard about this Killer Hill at mile 9. I was really worried about this thing. Mile 9 is a place where you’re feeling pretty pooped and the thought of a Killer Hill was more than a little daunting. It turned out to be nothing more than a teeny tiny little incline, causing me to feel a little smug. Hill? That wasn’t no stinking hill.

The non-hill.

At about mile 11, I began to feel a bit Horrible. My stomach was cramping and I had a terrible side stitch. I drank some Gatorade and walked a tiny bit, but by mile 12 I had mentally given up. My brain was saying, “You know? You did the best you could. Just walk the rest of the way.” My angel Amanda saw me struggling up ahead of her and she ran up to me and made me keep going. We moaned and grumbled the whole last 1/2 mile, but crossed the finish line holding hands. It was THE BEST feeling.  The race couldn’t have ended in a better way, I’m so thankful that she wouldn’t let me give up.

My goal was to run the race in 2:15, and I got close:

Not too shabby. I’ll take it.

Afterwards we celebrated with malts, hamburgers, and mustaches.

My goodness, I love these girls.

When my friends and I were in Nashville last April for our half-marathon, a girl stepped onto the elevator with us. She smelled amazing, so we told her so, asking what perfume she was wearing.

Laughing she said, “It’s Biofreeze.”

Just a little running humor for you to get this post started off on a probably annoying foot. Annoying because I realize that if you’re not a runner, you most likely don’t have the same affinity as I do for talking about all! things! running! Really, I could talk about running for days, the best running clothes, Garmin watches, stretching techniques, favorite routes, paces and splits, races, ointments….

(For you non-runner types who are still reading, Biofreeze is basically Ben-Gay, which is FUNNY right, that we thought it smelled like perfume?!)

So I know you’re probably very interested in hearing about how my half-marathon training is going! Well I’ll tell you! It’s going. I’m having some hip “issues” that I hope don’t turn into hip “problems,” but mostly I feel pretty good.

This round of training has been different than the last time. One of our good friends had a freak accident and hasn’t been able to train with us, but she’s ALIVE and getting better everyday, so that’s the most important thing. And another friend decided that she just really doesn’t like running (WHAT THE WHAT?!?!). It’s not the same without them. The rest of us are still having fun and talking smack about them while we run. (Just kidding Jen and Kate! Or am I…..)

I think about where I was with running just a little less than two years ago. I…hated it. I wanted to love running, but I couldn’t understand why people purposely ran, if not for the reason of being chased by a bad guy holding a gun or rabid animal. Never in a gabajillion years would I have ever imagined that running would be something that I truly love or that I’d develop such deep friendships with my running friends. Friends. They are the key to my love of running. Truly.

::

Apparently Christmas is right around the corner. My Scrooged-ness has begun to set in, worse than ever this year. Putting up the tree was a CHORE, but I faked merriment and joy for the kids. All of Christmas seems like a chore and I hate that.

Carson and Ella have been acting like jerks the past few weeks. I’ve basically taken away everything that gives their life joy, which means they get no chocolate in their milk, no special treats after school, no help folding their laundry, no Wii, no TV Christmas shows, no movie nights. Since none of this seemed to be make a bit of difference in their behavior, I decided to bring in the big guns.

We got an Elf on the Shelf.

Her name is Daisy and truthfully, I got her for myself as much as for the kids. I wanted something that would put the magic back into Christmas for me and after just two days of devising crazy schemes for the kids to find in the morning, I have to say that I’m having so much fun. It’s sort of like Christmas morning EVERY morning, watching the kids faces when they find her.

As an added bonus, their behavior has improved dramatically these past two days! Daisy, YOU are a miracle worker!

I plan to obnoxiously post all of Daisy’s adventures, so, uh, beware? Get ready to be wowed? I swore in years past that I’d never be one of those wackadoo people who got into the whole Elf on the Shelf phenomenon, but I’m allowed to change my mind! After the past several years of completely overthinking Christmas, I just needed to be reminded that we’re all allowed to have a little fun…even at, ESPECIALLY at, Christmastime.

I hate when I get that little voice in my head that tells me that I’m not good enough. I’m pretty sure everyone has that voice sometimes, it’s just something about being human, I think.

I’m not the best writer. I’m not the most popular. I’m not the best photographer. I’m not the fastest runner. I’m not the prettiest/funniest/most organized…

Something about me: I crave being recognized for the things I do, whatever it is. Usually I’m okay with not being the best, as long as I hear, “good job.”

The past year has felt like a blur. I finally was offered paid writing jobs, I started my own business (sort of/halfway), I ran a half-marathon. Sometimes I felt like I was on fire, but most of the time I felt like all I was doing was putting out fires. I certainly wasn’t the best at anything I was doing. Especially when it came to Carson and Ella, I felt like, I don’t know, I felt like I failing them somehow.

I thought that being a working mom would be that best of both worlds thing where I was finally recognized for my work. Being a mom is absolutely one of the greatest things about my life, but it’s not something that is exactly applauded. You don’t get gold stars for getting all the laundry done or a check in the mail every time you manage to get to soccer practice on time with shoes, socks, shin guards, a soccer ball, and a water bottle.

Funny thing, though, getting those paychecks didn’t fill up that part of me that craves recognition. In these past few months, where I’ve been utterly overwhelmed and unhappy, I thought a lot about what I really want out of life and I figured out at least one thing that I’m sure of. I want to be really good at being a mom. I don’t mean that I want to be a better mom than you or the mom that you see on Pinterest who is gorgeous, takes perfect pictures of her very clean children in her immaculate home, can fashion a work of art out of recycled thrift store finds, all while preparing dinner from scratch. No.

I want to be a really good mom to Carson and Ella. To do that I had to give up a few things. I quit one of my jobs. I gave up a few responsibilities. I decided to respect my time. I decided to stop feeling like I have to apologize for not being good at everything. (Well, at least until that voice in my head starts up again. It can be a bit pesky.)

It will always be there, the craving to be recognized, especially for what I do as a mom. It’s not something that will actually happen, I know that nobody will really notice all the tiny details that go into being their mom, but I do know that focusing on my kids is exactly what I’m supposed to be doing right now.