I’m back to running again. Full force. Things are going well. Now, I can’t shut up about it. Apparently, the universe is sending me a sign though. People are generally supportive but I’ve had some comments lately that make me question whether I should talk about it at all.

(With, of course, the disclaimer that I completely understand not everyone lives in the running world and that there are different lifestyles to fit one’s needs that may or may not make one accustomed to certain terminology or jargon.)

“So, you’re still doing that running thing, huh?”
Said in the same tone as one might ask “So, you’re still doing that crack cocaine thing, huh?”

“All that activity, aren’t you afraid of what you’ll do to your bones?”
No activity, aren’t you afraid of what you’ll do to your ass?

“So, how long is this marathon?”
All marathons are 26.2 miles. All of them.

“You spent $120 on running shoes? I would never do that. I mean, why run when you could shop? Do you know what kind of handbag you could get for that?”
Yes, probably one large enough to help me haul around all the anti-depressants I’ll need to take to be able to live in my own skin. You have your handbag, I’ll have my sanity. Win-win.

“I heard running makes you age faster. With all that up and down motion, your skin is bound to stretch and sag.”
Yeah, you go with that. I’ll see you in ten years, Mr. Ageless Wonder.

“Wow, you don’t look like you can run ten miles!”
Gee, thanks.

“You run more than I change my kid’s diaper.”
I have a feeling your kid and I could have a long conversation about chaffing.

“I’d rather starve myself than run.”
Cool. I like nachos and beer.

“So you race and then you cross a finish line? That’s it?”
I don’t know how to answer this.

“So I bet running totally throws off your hormones, huh? Like you must be so mellow all the time.”
Ummm, what?

“What do you do when you’re running for that long? I would have to be, like, reading or something.”
I tried, but I just couldn’t get into the story. Maybe it was all the moving vehicles.

“I could never run for a mile. What if you have to go to the bathroom?”
Listen to your mom and go BEFORE YOU LEAVE THE HOUSE. And then make sure there are a couple available on your route because you’re right, you can never count on that.

Today, I was flipping through the pages of one of my favorite travel magazines and looking at photos of their annual photo contest. Seeing photos of fabulous, warm places is just lovely. Sometimes, I can even say “ooh, I’ve been to that beach” or “hey, I’ve seen that tree.” What could be more fun?

Anyone who’s visited or done a little poking around here knows how I sometimes talk about the beach. And the ocean. And islands. And warm weather. So when I look at these photos I can’t help but ooohh and ahhh and point out to others how fantastic they are. It’s how I pass the time when I’m not actually there.

Then I came across a certain featured photo that is likely to be the thing that motivates me for the entire winter. No, not because of the sand and sun. No, not because of the cuteness- because at first, yes, I was all about the awww, how cuuuuute! commentary. But then, it hit me: I have some serious work to get to. And soon!

So, I now give you, a photo that is:

A. Adorable

B. Intimidating

C. Motivating

D. The thing that will keep me from cheesecake for the next eight months because, heck, if this woman can have a baby and walk down the beach like that, so can I. Well, except for the baby part. I’ll just borrow that.

E. All of the above

Sorry for the copy/paste- it was the only (fast) way.

Yes, I’m sure I look just fine, too.

Yes, I know that the photo could have been touched up.

Yes, I know this woman may not be the mother of this child.

I don’t care.

I’m so glad I can run again.

1. For personal reasons, I have more than once eaten an entire box of Cheerios in one day.

2. This has happened recently.

3. I sometimes tell the dog to “sit” and “stay” in Spanish. I also work in the occasional “good morning, how are you?” and “do you know how to get to the town square?”. Until I get back to Mexico, I’ve got to keep it up somehow.

4. At my parent’s house, I will sometimes put CNN on the television and put the picture-in-picture on Fox and compare the two.

5. I don’t have cable television. I am too cheap.

6. I once stacked a working television on top of a broken one. I know.

7. When I’m bored at work (read: when I can’t concentrate so instead I play on the sweet, sweet internet) I “will” all of you to create new posts.

8. I sing in the car all. the. time.

9. A friend once made me play Dance Dance Revolution and Karaoke Revolution.

10. This wasn’t that long ago.

11. I liked it.

I came across this photo today.

Storm clouds and all, some things just have a way of making you feel good.

Even if it’s all or nothing, I’m thankful certain images can take us back to the past.

In the town where I grew up, there is a memorial at the corner of Hancock and Pikes Peak Avenues for Fallen Fire Fighters. I remember visiting when it was first unveiled in the late 80’s. A family member took me along and we stood among other families, mostly made up of fire fighters. I remember feeling both lucky and afraid that I was connected to this. This memorial always seemed to remain the same: something for all the city and it’s visitors to see, but seeing very few that would ever have a direct connection.

I remember our soccer team would practice in the fields around the memorial. I remember sometimes, you’d see a visitor or two, sitting on a bench or tracing the letters in a name on the wall. And the memorial just stood there, on it’s own, always available to that occasional visitor.

A memorial, in and of itself, is strong. It’s constant, it doesn’t ask for anything and it’s dependable. This one is no different. And over several weeks in the Autumn of 2001, I was reminded how very much this memorial is like those it honors. Strong, constant, unassuming and dependable.

The purpose of this memorial didn’t change five years ago. But I think, in some obscure way that no one could have ever imagined, it’s place has. It will always be on a small corner in a relatively small city, but to some now, it seems more like a place for a connection to those we may have never known but also, will never forget.

_______________________________________
IAFF: Fallen Fire Fighter Memorial

A few weeks ago I took my friends’ kids to the county fair.

They were moving that day and as hard as it is to keep track of toddlers amongst ferris wheels and cows, it is infinitely better than carrying boxes.

I consider wearing them out an accomplishment.

Well, that and no one got their shirt eaten by a goat.

A few weeks ago, I mentioned Fall was coming. Some people were in denial about it, which I understand as I spend the entirety of Winter in the exact same state of nonacceptance, but considering I was declaring my love for Summer in February, I am clearly always jumping a little ahead in this season game. My run last night was no exception.

Yes, that’s right. My run last night. I usually tend to run right after work but yesterday there was shopping for bread baking ingredients to do and handbags to be bought. Yes, handbags plural because I can’t decide between the red and the black and I plan on asking everyone in my office, neighborhood, family and address book their opinion before I decide which one is going back. If I had my camera back from Mohammed at Alamo, I’d take photos and post them here so my near and dear bloggerite friends could vote as well. Well, digress much?

The run didn’t start until about 5:30. It was overcast, breezy and looked like rain might fall any second. I still headed out as I’m going to do my best to stick to my training plan in hopes of still completing a December marathon. I had to let my dreams for August and October go, so December is the final hope for my marathoning this year. I needed to do five or six miles last night with a little speed work to stay on schedule. Best laid plans, right? Not so much.

Instead, I got out there into the cool breeze and yes, I must admit, the subtly changing leaves and well, I just became distracted. With the music in my ears, the trail in front of my eyes and the mess of thoughts finally clearing out of my head, I was just immersed in the run. I’ve been running a route close to home that is actually a loop. That way, if I don’t feel good or if my injury decides to act up, I am close enough to home to not be stranded. This is merely a two mile loop so the first round goes pretty fast. Last night, so did the second. And the third. And the fourth. I ran eight miles before I even started to feel it. I really had to stop myself to realize that it was just too much, too soon. Eight miles may not seem that long, but it is when you haven’t been able to run in a couple months. It is HUGE.

I blame the season. It is my favorite time to run, really. Sure, I like running in Summer, on the beach. I like running in Spring, in the park. I even tolerate a good Winter run if the wind isn’t blowing. But Fall really is the best for so many reasons. First and foremost being, you don’t sweat as much. And against anything you could have convinced me of a month ago, I am starting to think maybe, if it had to happen, I was injured at the right time. Because as much as it tortured me to be inactive in Summer, I am that much more thankful to be running right now. I look forward to the leaves that will fall and crunch under my feet. I look forward to the crisp air. I look forward to the warm afternoons that quickly turn into cold nights.

I want to embrace it as much as I can, as it’s an all too brief occurrence here on the Front Range. Somewhere during that fourth loop last night, I think I decided this. I mean, why not embrace something that’s happening anyway. Quite a parallel to life, don’t you think? As I walked in the door and smelled the distinct scent of bread baking in the kitchen, I realized I’d already started.