JustRunJustLiveJustBe

Lately, some people around me have been making some choices in their own lives without considering how those choices might change the lives of others. Without going into too much detail (I just love having to be cryptic on my blog) I’ll say that not only have their choices affected me, they also have the potential to affect my work. People, I don’t care how big or small your city is, when the stuff hits the fan the rule of Six Degrees of Separation more than likely applies. That is just the way the world is. None of us is an island.

What’s really getting me over this situation is that I don’t know how to react to it. Should I be upset? Should I be angry? Should I disengage? Should I judge? I ask myself these questions every day. Late at night, early in the morning, over breakfast, in the car, while I’m supposed to be listening to someone else. All the time. And while I know there’s a line that one should always draw when it comes to getting involved in the problems of others, it’s still my reaction that I’m struggling with.

Because this is, for the most part, not a moral issue (though I can’t say I agree that it’s aligned with my own values) the line I use to judge right and wrong is blurred. I’m finding it nearly impossible to make any kind of peace with it. Maybe it is a result of it being a friend. Maybe it’s a product of being in my 20’s. Maybe I really just don’t know yet.

On one hand, this someone with whom I have a friendship and they have made a choice that is changing the world of a lot of people. Part of me says to be very tough on them. We all have consequences for our choices, right? I want them to realize what they’ve done! And then I catch myself. For starters, I’m in no place of authority anyway, so that’s good reason to hold back. Also, I remember that it’s not up to me to serve justice. It is not my responsibility to “make” them see what they’ve done. That will happen in time, regardless of my actions. And every time I feel myself starting to become angry, overcome with that feeling of being wronged, another feeling comes in even stronger. It’s calm. It’s a feeling telling me to take the higher road. To wait it out and watch things unfold. To have the bigger heart.

When it comes down to it, down to life, that’s what I want to have anyway. A bigger heart. I can do this when it’s easy, of course. It’s harder, though, when it’s a challenge. I will have to struggle with this. But I want to be the person that can see past the initial reactions of hurt or anger. I want to be the person that knows that it’s probably not my job to judge. If laws aren’t being broken, if children aren’t being harmed, then adults just get to be adults, even if they’re wrong. It doesn’t mean they get my love, my friendship or my respect, it just means that I can deal with it in the context of how it affects me. I don’t have to worry about making them pay. Time will do that without any help from me.

So close.

Yeeehaw!

It is Friday morning and that means the brain is getting a break. With a week like this has been, though, the brain would be taking a break even if it were Tuesday afternoon.

I have been entirely too deep lately (both in blog posts and in other people’s crap) so therefore, I propose I ask many a question and then go take a nice long nap while everyone else answers.

Are you game? Can you handle it? I think you can!

And if you can’t, old pro-wrestlers will come to your door and pretend like they’re selling cookies but then when you open the door they will throw you over their shoulders and take you to the county fair. To mutton bust. Blindfolded. In mud. (Thanks to JACC for the idea to threaten with senseless, random, impossible scenarios. It’s good fun.)

Here are some questions I have for the Internet today:

1. What is this Thinking Blogger thing? What do you all think about it? (Yes, I have done my homework, I just want to know what all of you think.)

2. If someone were going to eliminate sugar from their diet, what are the most common things to be eliminated? (Other than white bread, pasta and other obviously white things- I’ve got that part down.)

3. If I were to tell you I was thinking of walk/running a marathon next weekend, what would you say? (I have run 10 miles at this point with no pain and barely any recovery aches/pains.)

4. Does anyone have a Garmin and is it really worth downloading your workouts onto your computer? I have had mine for nearly four months and have only used it for pacing, distance and heart rate monitoring. Do I really need to download and have graphs showing me how slow I am?

5. Does anyone have any new favorite recipes? Dinner, specifically. I am bored to the back teeth with stir fry. Seriously.

6. Does anyone have any secret money-saving tips that I don’t know about? Save for the obvious like “skip the Starbucks” (because, yeah, I know) and stop buying things online all the freakin’ time (it is not my fault JCrew has to have one of the best darn swim sales ever three weeks before I go on vacation, is it?).

Actually, the real reason for this question is for a class I’m giving (I know, me teaching people, crazy). I need ideas!

7. What are your favorite jeans? Or, gentlemen, your wife/girlfriend/sister/whatever’s favorite jeans? I need new ones and I don’t know where to go anymore. I know this can be different for everyone, but I still need help. Jeans shopping will always suck.

I’m going to stop at seven, I think. It’s my lucky number. Also, we might get into really, really deep questions like what is the meaning of life and how do you trim the nails of a dog that becomes possessed by unnatural forces at the sight of a nail trimmer even though she has never been hurt by a nail trimmer?

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*I might never get the chance to use this title so might as well do it now.

The third grade was a big year for me. According to my mother, this was the year I “really came out of my shell.” Emphasis on really because unlike the years before, there was no stopping me. Or my mouth. Eight years old and I’d perfected the art of a thick skin and a lot of nerve. This was evident in two areas, in particular. One, I gave speeches at school assemblies and two, my mediocre citizenship grades. Apparently, all the “straight A’s” in the world did not a quiet girl make.

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Part of this shell exiting, I think, was that I entered my I don’t have to take crap from anyone phase. (Note: I have yet to leave that phase.) This had a little to do with our super mean third grade teacher, and a lot to do simply with my personality. I can’t really remember a time since the third grade when I did something or believed something or even reacted to something because someone else gave me crap about it. I don’t know what makes me this way. I do know that I’m blessed to have realized this so early, or even at all.

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One day, at lunchtime in the third grade, a fourth grader named Tina Wiedlick (yes, that was her real last name and yes, it does sound just like you think) was giving me particularly mean looks across the lunch room. Tina, you see, was upset with me from the day before when I walked home with a girl that used to be her best friend. Tina did not care that it just so happened that her friend and I lived next door to one another nor did she care that IT WAS WHAT OUR MOTHERS TOLD US TO DO. She was mad because she got dumped and, apparently, it was my fault for living next door to the girl that dumped her, even though the house was bought five years before I was even conceived. People, she was ruthless!

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Anyhow, that following day at lunch, Tina gave me so many dirty looks that I was sort of wishing I was allowed to flip people off because, my gosh, if there were ever a reason to use your middle finger, this was it! But I didn’t. I didn’t want Mrs. McNeil, the lunchroom monitor, to see me. I would certainly be suspended and therefore ruin my perfect attendance record of the year and completely lose out on the bright yellow ribbon awarded at the end. I had my priorities straight.

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As we were filing out of the lunchroom and onto the playground that day, I happened to get in the double line right next to Tina Wiedlick. I looked at her out of the corner of my eye and, I tell you, if there were ever a moment a third grader wished she was a fifth grader, this was it. As we both tried to walk through the single door, I committed the cardinal sin of elementary school and walked in front of someone a grade ahead of me, which means I walked in front of Tina. And then, as if it could get any worse, I bumped her with my elbow. I know!

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“Watch it!” Tina yelled.

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“Sor-ry!” I shouted back. I would not be intimidated.

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“You should be!” Tina screamed, six inches from my face.

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And here’s where I officially earned my life-long badge of hard-assdom.

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“Let me tell you one thing, Tina Wiedlick,” I said, “the only thing I’m one bit of sorry about today is that I looked at your face.”

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And I spun around, walked the other way and for the first time in my life, actually felt someone try to kill me with sheer will. I spent the rest of that day certain I was in for it. The worst that happened, though, was Tina running by me after school and calling me a “bitch.” Small price to pay.

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I don’t think I’ve allowed anyone or anything to dictate anything in my life since then; at least not by intimidation. The value in that, by the way, is not doing it but rather, knowing you have the choice. Which is why no matter the circumstances, the challenges, or events out of my control, there is one thing I know: I strive to live every day with the same strength I found that day in the third grade. It’s not always easy but I do it anyway. For the ones I love, for the things I care about, for the things that matter.

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Thanks to all of you for your comments. It is wicked cool that you not only come here but are thoughtful and insightful when you do.

I feel very much on the sidelines of life right now. It’s like the team is out there, making everything happen and I’m merely watching. I’m excited for the team, we’re winning, we look great, we’re a success. But I’m just sort of there, filling the space.

I know these times in life come. I know that I’m in a unique situation with four pregnant friends, three friends or family members building or buying new houses, two couples getting married, one friend moving across the country to live with someone, and three other friends starting new jobs or careers. That is a lot. And me, well I went to Starbucks this morning.

I’m trying not to approach this as a woe is me type of story because overall, it’s not. The situations above all have their problems and imperfections, and believe me, few of them are idyllic. Still, they all seem so full of meaning and hope. It’s not that my life is without meaning or hope, far from it. It’s just getting a little difficult to maintain that on my own. Possibly to a fault, I’m one of those people that believes I have to be very selective on who I burden with my problems. In turn, I get to do a lot of thinking and planning all inside my own mind. The way things are going right now, the mind is a little over taxed.

I’ve always been pretty good at separating other’s choices and successes from my own life. I can be really happy for a friend getting married, for example, because I can tell myself “that is what’s right for them, not necessarily for me.” It’s true; not once has someone else’s new husband, new house, new job, new dog, whatever, been something I’d choose for myself. It’s a pretty logical way of thinking, for the most part. I suppose the only time it starts to get difficult is when you see all this new and all this change at once.

My first instinct is to do something about it. Of course, that’s not a solution for everything. It works for me professionally when I decide to work harder, or work on something new. It works for me physically when I’m feeling fat or slow or weak. It works for me socially when I feel like I’ve lost touch with some friends and need to catch up. But doing something about this, well it’s nearly impossible.

So I’ll just have to wait. I’ll just have to sit here, watch the game and trust that the coach will put me back in when the time is right. I’ll let the pressure go, I’ll watch and cheer and know that when the time comes, I’ll be ready.

Why is it that just when you think you can’t add anything else to life, life just goes on ahead and adds it for you?

I’ve made every attempt over the last few days to escape and find some place I can go where I need not think about anyone else’s life. Yes, some of it is valid, some of it trivial and much of it ridiculous, but honestly, if I have to utter the phrase “what did you expect?” one more time, I might gag. Instead, I’ve tried to get away.

Just ask Barb who got five questions from me that I pulled straight out of oblivion and slapped into an email. She says it was painless, but I think she was just being kind. Or, you could ask Nicole over at Powered By Vegetables. She asked me if I had any opinions or recommendations on travel to St. John (U.S.V.I.). What she didn’t realize was that asking me about Caribbean travel is sort of like asking me to share my opinions and recommendations on the importance of breathing.

Both, though, were attempts at escape. As has been my running lately. It is not particularly smooth nor consistent, but when I’m out there, sweating and my heart pounding, I find relief. It’s a little like years ago, when I “got serious” about running and started to train regularly. It’s a struggle, but also a progression. Today’s run feels a little easier than the day before. My body, even if it’s fighting me for each step, is also getting it’s memory back. I feel my strides becoming a little longer, my lungs a little more relaxed. Last weekend, I ran five miles with a friend and was able to talk the entire time. What used to be normal is once again an accomplishment.

In my continuing effort to convince myself that there is good to see in every struggle, I’m also reminded how running has brought more than just cardiac health and two-piece bathing suits into my life. It has brought me people; through them I get encouragement, inspiration and most of all, a reminder that we’re all more the same than we are different.

Lia, a woman so very close to her first marathon, is in taper mode right now. I forget how this feels, the way your mind and body react to mile reduction before a race. She reminds me of that. It’s a normal feeling and yet, when you’re in it, you feel so very abnormal.

Or Ginger, a runner who pretty consistently leaves me in awe, is coming down off the high of one of the biggest races in the world. Through her struggle with injury, weather and the unfathomable (for me) emotions of one of the highest pressure races of many runner’s lives, she crossed the finish line. And now, she has a question on her mind so familiar to a runner: What now? I don’t know the answer but I do know that through this, I’m reminded of the inevitable let down that comes after a major event in one’s life. And, I’m also reminded that we get past it and be it good or bad, we can look back on that time a different person than we were before.

And then there’s Michelle, who makes a thirteen mile run sound like walk in the park. Who talks about beat up runner’s feet like she merely stubbed her toe. Who gives a race report for a 50K in much the same tone you might talk about your trip to the grocery store. A 50K gave her trouble, she says, so she’ll stick to just marathons from here on out. Yeah, just marathons. Michelle, you pansy. But I can identify, because there was a time when I scoffed that the phrase “just a 5K.” It happens.

I thought about all this on my drive to work this morning. How we “use” some things, some people, in our lives from time to time to escape. So all of you that are returning from vacation, expecting new arrivals and, living, breathing and most of all, sharing, have been part of my escape, too. I’m really thankful for that, because this last week, more than I have in a long time, I needed it.

Last week tried to beat me up somethin’ good. There were break ups, office dramatics, sick friends, bad news, worse news and a dog that was just ADR (that’s an abbreviation for a technical term commonly used in the veterinary medicine world which means “ain’t doin’ right.” No really, it is). And that was just within my little space of the planet.

Rather than bore myself and nearly a dozen others with my stories of woe, however, I’d rather take you on a walk through Spring.

Growing up, I was the kid that always drew pictures of my house. Some days, it looked Victorian, some days very modern and some days it was clear I was going to grow up and move into Barbie’s Dream House. As time passed, I stopped drawing pictures and just started going around town and picking out my house. There was always this wonderful neighborhood with houses no one I knew could afford that I’d go back and visit time and again. It was obvious, though, that this ‘hood and money and the money was old.

A couple days ago, while walking with a friend, we came upon these streets again. This time, though, it wasn’t the beautiful homes that took my attention but rather, the way each of them was surrounded by Spring.

Picket fences are always that much better with tulips.

Lots and lots of tulips.

And daffodils.

(That’s what these are, right?)

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And something else cute that probably has a fairy tale name that I don’t know but it sure was fun to play with the image in Photoshop.

Though I drew houses as a kid, I never was one of those girls that got into the whole planning of my future wedding business. While I’ll leave that whole story for another day, I will say that aren’t these the most gorgeous flowers and wouldn’t they be great at a wedding?

And more tulips, which I never tire of seeing.

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Lest you think this neighborhood is all full of beauty and perfection with pink houses and little Pollyanna families filling each and every one of them, I give you a warning sign:

Truth is, I’d put this in my yard in a second.

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The other day, I mentioned having some homemade rum which several of you asked about. I find it both exciting and a little frightening that I received more emails on this than almost anything else, ever. I’m sorry to report that though I enjoyed it, I really have no further detail. I know there’s molasses, sugar, brown sugar and water involved. Then, fermentation. Then, running it through a still (which, as I found out today, is not sold at Home Depot. I think that is a rip because what would a still be considered if not home improvement?), maybe more than once. I’m not entirely sure.

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Then, I guess you just bottle it so that you may randomly place it on the desks of coworkers on a Wednesday morning. Which, by the way, would normally be just fine but to do it in a week when office stress is at an all-time high, giving someone liquor that they cannot open or consume at work (or probably have on the premises, come to think of it) is just mean. It did motivate me to call some friends over for “emergency rum tasting” though, and that’s never a bad thing.