I realize that what I’m about to write is going to read like an advertisement.

But that’s okay. And maybe it is. Because I love this project. Because I am so thrilled to be a part of it. (And I was not asked to do this writeup and am receiving nothing in return for this post.)

pic from RunTheBluegrass.org

On March 31, Lexington will host the Run the Bluegrass Half-Marathon. I have been blessed to be a part of the RACE Team. I have been privy to the behind-the-scenes work that is going on for this race. This race is a true labor of love for the organizers. The creativity and quality and attention to detail going into this race is amazing. The Run the Bluegrass Half Marathon will truly spotlight the central Kentucky experience. From the food to the awards to the medals to the entertainment, this race will be a great overview of central Kentucky.

pic from RunTheBluegrass.org

This race will not be an easy race, though. The course is new this year and runs through and around Keeneland. It will be difficult to get a PR on this course. But the beauty of running through horse country is worth it. I’ve ran parts of the course and Nathan has ran the entire course twice. The hills are serious, but that’s how we run in Central Kentucky. (More pictures and reviews can be found here.)

my pic of my friend Julie in the back half of the course

I am very excited for this race. I am excited for the experience that awaits me. I am excited for the challenge, for the expo, for the chance to see my part of the world encapsulated in a race experience.

And I’m excited to see this guy cheering me on.

I hope to see you there. In a bib. Handing out water. Putting a medal around my neck.

And if you’re not local? That’s okay. We all know that I tweet on the run. It’ll almost be like you’re there.

For more information, visit RunTheBluegrass.org. There’s so much information there. (You might see a familiar face on 2011′s Most Improved Runners page also.)

I just had an epiphany.

I’ve struggled with my eating since right before Christmas. I have just felt hungry all the time. I’ve been feeling true hunger pangs for a month. Sometimes I feel hungry right after I eat. Random cramps and growls and general discomfort. I changed the quality of the food I was eating (cutting out the sweet and salty snacks) and have lost 5 of the 7 pounds I gained at Christmastime. But I just couldn’t get the amount that I was eating under control. I was getting discouraged. I couldn’t understand why I was so hungry all the time.

But maybe what I was feeling wasn’t hunger.

A few days ago, right after my turkey sandwich and carrot lunch, I started getting this general pain. And it got a little worse. I started feeling bloated and tender and just generally grouchy in the upper part of my abdomen.

Turns out that my stomach just isn’t happy with me right now. (Thanks, Dr. E!) I have medicine and am resting for a few days and soon my stomach will be happy like this again (credit here).

I’m not destined to be super hungry forever because what I was feeling wasn’t hunger! There was something wrong! Now I know. My stomach will get better and my eating will get back to normal. And then I’ll feel better all the way around.

And that’s great news.

(Other great news? Wondering where I’ve been? LexRunLadies has EXPLODED! Here’s a link to my friend Toa going on the news and an article about us in Ace Weekly. I’m absent from this space because life is good!)

It has been three years since my grandfather died. It humbles me and warms my heart that some of you have been my friends long enough to remember when that happened. His passing was both incredibly sad and a beautiful experience. He was not afraid of dying. He almost seemed inspired to die. He lived a full life. He created a beautiful family. He encouraged us to sing as we gathered around his failing body. He was ready to meet his Savior. The time we spent with him at the Hospice Center was time I cherish, both because we were with him and we were with each other (all 30ish of us, sleeping in the floor in the conference rooms, eating insane amounts of pizza).

Through the whole process of his illness and his death, I felt the most pain for my grandmother. They had been together since they were teenagers. I could not imagine my life without Nathan, and trying to add 40 years onto that experience created a loss that I couldn’t even imagine.

I’m not sure if I ever told this story, but late one night, my grandmother was talking to my dad (her son-in-law) while my grandfather slept. She told my dad about how she hadn’t been able to hug my grandfather for months because of the medical equipment attached to him. She told my dad what she wanted more than anything was just another hug.

The next afternoon, my grandfather insisted on standing up. He hadn’t stood in days. He shouldn’t have been able to stand physically. But my family held him up so he could stand. No one knew why he was so insistent on standing until he reached out to hug my grandmother. He oohed and ahhed at her. He patted her on the back as they hugged. And then he insisted that we all give her a round of applause for being the “best wife ever.”

As much as I miss him sometimes, I miss him more for her.

A few days before Christmas, Nathan got a terrible stomach bug. He threw up for hours. Violently. And there was nothing I could do. I just laid in bed, trying to resist the urge to make sure he was okay because I knew I was getting on his nerves. At one point, I got up and got a washcloth to offer him. He said he would be okay and that he didn’t want it.

And that washcloth still sits there on the end of the table in our bedroom, outside of the bathroom. It reminds me to be thankful for every moment. I know the years will pass quickly. I don’t know when one of us will get sick. There are a million chances every day for him to get taken from me. And I want to be thankful for every single moment that he is in my life.

“Every little breath that is in your lungs is a tiny little gift to me.” ~the White Stripes

I don’t know what 2012 holds for us…or for you. I do know this, for our family – more now than ever: we want to live out good stories…And you can’t do that alone. ~ Jeremy Parsons from WeAreTheParsonsFamily.com

Dear sweet sweet friends,

Last year, several of you traveled with me by Book Club through Donald Miller’s Million Miles in a Thousand Years. We talked about our story. What we wanted our story to be. And how we would make that happen.

I stewed in those thoughts. I wanted to make something happen, but I didn’t know what. And then, in a moment of inspiration a few months ago, I started something that I believe has become my story. Something I think will be my story for years to come.

My little running club has really taken off. We’ve had as many as 20 people show up for group runs. 10 people showed up to start to train for a 5K when the only advertisement I had done was facebook and twitter. We are planning two weekly group runs. Women are meeting in small groups to get runs in. I wanted to connect running women of all experience levels because I know that my passion for running was ignited when I started running with others. And I know it would have been easier for me to keep it up in the beginning if I wasn’t alone.

This process has been scary for me. I’ve been afraid that I don’t know enough about running. I’ve been afraid that I’m biting off more than I can chew. I’ve been most afraid that no one would show up. But my smart in-real-life running buddy, Mark, sent me a tweet one day that I wrote down and stuck to my monitor.

And they have.

I’ve been very lucky that I’ve gained connections through the group. I have members who are graphic designers. I have a member who has amazing community connections and has rounded up partners, clinics and door prizes for our Resolution Runners. I am including information about the running group in the emails for several local races. I have members who are willing to come out early in the morning and in the cold. Somehow a group of people found me that want what I want: community.

So please forgive me if I’m a little absent over here. Be patient if I seem not as invested as I used to be. I’m not neglecting this blog because I am having a hard time or because I’m avoiding some issue in my life. I’m neglecting this blog because I’m working on building something. Connections. Encouragement. Support. Runners.

If you want to pray for us, send positive thoughts into the universe, or just be nosey, you can keep up with us in a variety of ways. I keep the website at LexRunLadies.com. We’re also on twitter at @LexRunLadies. And here’s our facebook group.

I’m building my story, friends. And I thank you for giving me the confidence to do that.

I made a big decision over the weekend.

I’ve been working on a big project for several months. A long, hard, painful project. And I’ve decided to let it go. I’ve decided to scrap it for now. And I have torn feelings about it.

I’ve been writing a memoir. About the miscarriage. It hasn’t been easy. It hasn’t been fun. But I’ve been writing because I was convinced that it would be published in some way. And because I was convinced that someone would be helped by it.

But the more I write, the more I find myself feeling that what I am writing is something that I never want published. I find myself walking the very fine line between being honest and writing words that I would want my friends and family to read. I even have two different mediums for my writing. I have a private blog where I’m doing my daily focused writing that I censor somewhat. And then I have my handwritten journal that I had planned on going through and pulling out what I was willing to share. And there is much more there that will never see the light of day than the daily posts of shareable material.

There are parts of me that show up that are bitter and jealous and angry. There are parts of me that show up that are pained by the completely neutral-meant comments of friends and family. Sometimes I feel a lot of sadness by completely normal interactions. And that is no one’s fault. I’m afraid so much of what I honestly say will create discomfort and unintentioned guilt for the people that I love in real life. Even though what I’m writing is my reaction to everyday family and friend interaction through the lens of miscarriage, I’m afraid of opening cans of worms that I don’t want opened.

I’ve decided that it is not worth writing if it won’t reach the masses. It isn’t worth writing if I can’t write (and publish) with 100% honesty. It isn’t worth writing if I don’t ever promote it. So I’m not going to write it.

I don’t feel like I’m avoiding anything. I tried to write the hardest parts of my story first. And I wrote most of them. I still have prompts I want to write about that I’m sure I’ll accomplish
eventually, but I’m not making that a scheduled part of my day anymore.

I don’t feel like I’m quitting something that I need to do. I feel like I’ve done the work. I’ve done the healing. I have 25,000 words to prove it. In addition to old blogposts here that I was dreading going through. I feel like I’ve turned a corner, even though I still find myself in the shadow of it sometimes.

I feel like I’ve done the work. I feel like it is okay – even necessary – to not spend half an hour every day rehashing the miscarriage. I am done ripping that bandaid off every day. I have too much going on right now. There is too much joy in my life right now.

I’m not saying that I won’t keep writing. I’m sure I will. I’m sure I will. I’m sure there will be triggers that send me back to my handwritten journal. I’m sure that there will be things I remember that I want to write down. And there may even be a time when I decide to go back and finish the book. But that isn’t right now.

I feel a combination of relief and saddness at letting this go. I feel guilty that I’m no longer willing to schedule time within my day to think of what could have been. But I know it is what I need to do.

I know that is how I want to start my New Year.

I hope to have some end-of-the-year/beginning-of-the-year posts in the next few days, but honestly I’m really preoocupied right now.

First, our New Year’s weekend is shaping up to be just as busy as Christmas, just exchanging friends for family. I think I love it.

And I’m also getting really freaked out about my marathon training plan. I’ve looked at several and have recently became afraid that our original plan is too hard for a first-timer. (My original plan had a 20, 22, 24, and 26 mile run.) But I fear that a plan with only 2 long runs of 20 miles (and no more than 20) just isn’t enough. I’m afraid I’ll hit 20.1 and freak out and think that I can’t do it. I know I did my best 13.1 when my longest training run was 15. And it is a little strange to me that I’ll run double the distance but the longest training run is only 5 more miles.

I know that most of you aren’t marathoners, but I know that some of you are. And I’m begging for your help. What did your plan look like? If you are training now, what do your long runs look like? What was your longest run and how many times did you do it?

Ack!

I hope you all have an amazing New Year!

I love Christmas. Even though it can get overwhelming with all the traveling and the food and the presents, I love it.

What I don’t love, though, is how I put myself waaay at the bottom of the list. I hate how quickly I fall back into old patterns. I hate how I take the little bit of grace I give myself and blow it way up. I hate how I turn a little bit of freedom into a sweets free-for-all. I don’t think I ate a real meal over several days. I just grazed. And ate whatever whenever.

I won’t beat myself up. But it stops now.

There will be posts and pictures of Christmas coming soon, but what I wanted to get out right now is that I’m done. We’re back in our home. With our kitchen. And our running buddies. It is lunchtime on our first day home, and this is what I’ve done so far.

breakfast

run with Erin

lunch

Not “until tomorrow.” Not “until the first of the year.” But it stops here. I am in control.

Dear sweet sweet friends.

I swore it wouldn’t happen this year. I swore that I would stay focused on my weight loss journey over the holidays. I swore that I would lose weight – not gain – over the holidays. Because I’m strong. Because I’m solid. Because I’m awesome.

And then I saw a gain on the scale on Monday. And then I ate a lot of broccoli casserole and gluten-free shortbread at our work potluck yesterday. As I sat at my desk after lunch, feeling all disappointed in myself, I realized a few things.

• Christmas is special. I love Christmas. And it wouldn’t be the same without sausage balls or saltine candy or candy canes. I am focused 51 weeks of the year. As much as I should shudder at the idea of putting crap in my body, sometimes I still really want the sweet. And, other than Christmas, it isn’t around my house at all. I will not feel guilt for the sweets that people send me. I will not feel guilt for the sweets I keep when I give the majority away. It is Christmas.
• 2 pounds isn’t the end of the world, and a few more days of unfocused eating won’t ruin everything. My dark-wash 12s from Gap are still a little too roomy. I will not wake up back at 237 if I take a week off. My clothes will still fit. Even though my food choices haven’t been stellar, I haven’t binged. I’m not eating huge amounts of food, not at all. It is the quality of my food that isn’t that great this week. But I’m not going to do that much damage. And I already notice how I feel differently so I think I’ll be ready to get back on the wagon. Even though I’m just dangling my legs off a little.
• I can still run. I mean, we just pick up and run 6 miles two nights a week. And then our long run on the weekend. I will run off a lot of this food damage. It really isn’t a big deal.

So I’m signing off until Monday. I’m not going to blog. I’m not going to count calories. I’m not going to stress out about my food intake. I’m going to follow my training schedule. I’m going to get the LexRunLadies C25K group ready to start the New Year. I’m going to give myself a break. I’m going to enjoy my time with my family and all the food that is included.

No guilt. No remorse. No need to justify. Because we are on a break.

I’ll see you Monday!

Geez louise! The holidays are seriously cramping my blog time! So here’s a quick (photo-laced) catch-up!

Home is…

When did you feel most at home this year: in your life, in your space, in your career, in your skin? What factors make that situation feel like home? Do certain comforts make your space feel like home? Does being with certain people make you feel complete? Is there an activity in which you excel that makes you feel like you’re doing what you were meant to do?

This is your life. Where do you live? Where is home?

How will you resound?

I know this is hokey, but the truth sometimes is. My home is wherever this guy is.

Ordinary Extraordinary

Have you ever heard the expression “God is in the details?” Or, perhaps, “the devil is in the details?”

In college, I had an instructor who would circle the most minuscule omissions in red pen and write that phrase: God is in the details. Accidentally double space after a period when the rest have single spaces? Red pen. God is in the details. Barely noticeable typography goof-up? Red pen. God is in the details.

Annoying, right? Right, but insightful. At the time I was annoyed because I had five classes of nothing but writing and creating and the last thing on my mind was a tiny, forgotten detail. When you think about it though, it is the details that make up our lives: little, seemingly insignificant details, choices, and moments that make up our life, make up our story.

Sometimes the most ordinary, mundane things can turn into extraordinary moments. What was one of your most extraordinary ordinary moments this year?

Our story is in the details … How will you resound?

I realized this year that I am finally the person I’ve always wanted to be. We ate well. We ran a lot. We hiked on vacation. We even took a spur-of-the-moment hike at a craft fair. We are the kind of people that hike straight up for a mile to see this.

Appreciate

I’ve been a runner for a few years, but until this summer, I ran alone. I trained alone. I raced alone. I thought that was the way I wanted things. But I’ve realized that friends make the process so much more fun. That I’ve gotten more support than I ever imagined. That we can inspire and push each other. I try to show appreciation by being the catalyst (the “Jerry” if you will) to create running friendships between others. I work very hard to make LexRunLadies fun, to try to get people out. I am so so thankful for not being alone out there. (And that Nathan will often back his pace way off to run with me. He’s an awesome First Dude.)

Traditions

This is the time of year when families are upholding decades old traditions and working to create new ones. It doesn’t matter what you celebrate (or don’t) … please share with us your December traditions: how they got started, why you continue them, and why they are special to you.

How will you resound?

Of all of the crazy Christmas traditions we have, my favorite is the Gag Gift party. We play Dirty Santa. All 30-ish of us. With crazy rules. And alliances. From my grandmother to my high school cousin. Everyone plays. And we bring things like big jars of pickled bologna (yes, that really exists) and toilet target practice and sometimes good things like Visa cards with unknown balances. It is my favorite thing we do. I’m always sad when the last person takes their turn.

Then and Now

What was your life like a decade ago? How has your life changed since then? If you’re not feeling wordy today, why not show us some then and now portraits of yourself?

How will you resound?

Wow. A decade ago. December 2001. I had just finished grad school. I was working in an emergency drop-in shelter for teenagers. I was doing school follow-up visits. I was barely scraping by. Nate and I were dating, but no where near engaged. I was living in the not-so-great part of town with my brother and his best friend. Nate and his friend lived the next building over. I got a Snoopy Christmas card from Nathan that had the word “love” in it. It was a big step.

Strangely enough, though, I don’t have any pictures scanned in from that timeframe. So you get really lucky. This is coming from waaay back in the vault. Think high school graduation. 1996. When Kent had hair and when mine was big and kinda red. You’re welcome.

Now I just need to stay on top of these…

Today’s prompt is brought to you by Krissie from Questions for Dessert and @krissieb. (Hey! that’s ME!)

How will you resound?

For a long time, I thought this was just lazy. I thought that I should fight what I naturally have. I thought that I needed to present myself in a way that is different than I naturally am.

But in 2011, I embraced my curls.

I am wearing my hair curly on a daily basis. I think I’ve straightened my hair three times in 2011. (and two of those times was so it would be long enough to wear in a ponytail at a race.) I even rocked the curls at my brothers wedding.

For years, decades, I’ve thought that I had to spend time on my hair for it to be pretty. In high school, I would dry it at night and wrap the length up in several ace bandages (I so wish I was kidding). In college, I would blow dry it straight and then use a monster curling iron to try to smooth it out. I paid a ton for a straightening iron several years ago that does amazing things, but it takes forever to straighten this beast. And it has to be 0% humidity for it to stay straight.

I thought that what it naturally was just wasn’t enough. And that’s not the truth. Embracing my curls has been a huge gift to myself. I spend much less time getting ready in the mornings. I am damaging my hair much less. And I feel like it was the gateway choice to accepting a lot of other things about my body, both in appearance and performance. I don’t have to look like the societial standard to be “pretty.” My hair doesn’t have to do the perfect straight-halfway-down-then-curl thing to be awesome. My hair is awesome just the way it is.

Just like me.