A morning for do-overs

     I wish I could rewind.  I don’t want to rewind to watch a segment of time again, like a funny scene on a T.V. show.  I want to rewind to have a do-over.  I desire to turn back the clock, just a few minutes, to completely change the way I acted, reacted, spoke, yelled, and responded.  You see, I choose to spend less than five minutes with my children in a way that I wish they had not witnessed.  My wish is so deep, it hurts my heart.  My eyes fill with tears thinking about my childish, short-tempered behavior.  In fact, the embarrassment is worse knowing that next year, next week, even tomorrow – none of this matters.  Let me correct myself, it does matter.  What matters is that I let my children see an ugly side of me.  They saw a short-fuse and disgust over tardiness.  Truly – over just being a few minutes late.  Instead of greeting them at the door to say “how did you sleep?” “Are you having a good morning?” “What did you have for breakfast?” I yelled.  Then I yelled some more.  Just because they weren’t ready like I requested, waiting for me at the door.  I was more upset over the dogs, the milk still sitting on the counter, the TV left on, and the fact that their coats and hats were on hooks- not on their bodies.  To say I flew off the handle was an understatement.  My behavior ruined their morning, and possibly their day.  My prayer, deep passion, is that moments like this don’t ruin their impression of me.  I want them to remember my laugh, my smile, and my genuine love for them.  I care more about them then I care for myself.  It’s my job to show them this every day.  This morning, I wasted that chance.  I won’t get those few moments back.  Every mother tells you how quickly time passes.  In a blink.  There are no do-overs.  Just second chances to take a deep breath, slow down, and treasure every moment.  Someday, I will cry with sadness knowing I don’t get the chance to wake them in the morning.  I’ll miss fixing them breakfast, even on mornings when we know we might be counted tardy.  To be honest… I really don’t care if we are tardy for work, school, or other things in this busy life that we think are important.  Big picture – that doesn’t matter.  From this day forward, I will remember this very moment.  Me, typing my thoughts, tissue after tissue, wiping tears.  I will remember that I don’t want to repeat this morning ever again.  Since God won’t grant me a do-over for those few moments, I will ask that he grant me patience.  Patience to be present in the moment and not waste a single opportunity to show my two greatest accomplishments how much they mean to me.  You see – the sand in the hourglass slips away far too quickly. 

Half-Way There

   In life and on the road, how do you respond when you get to the turnaround point?  My boys and I "rocked-it-out" to one of their favorite songs, “Half Way There” in the car just before my afternoon run.  I thought about these lyrics and this concept of Half Way There, during my short out and back run. 

  When I run with a time or mileage goal in mind, the turnaround point brings a state of satisfaction, or a sense of relief … “I’m ½ way done.”  Why do we often search for the half-way marker?  Are we glad it’s half-over?  On those “I feel strong days,” are we disappointed that we only have half left, and time is running out?  Is this anything like seeing the glass as half-full v. half-empty? 

  I guess on some days during a run, my physical body is glad that I have reached the turnaround point.  I’m sure I experience the same feeling in a long race when I see that mile 6 or 7 marker.  There must be comfort in knowing you are closer to the finish line compared to the starting line.  But isn’t this life in general?  Is there relief when we have reached the half-way point of a big project?  Don’t we often smile when the clock tells us that half of our work day is complete?

  During my run, I could almost hear my boy’s voices singing, “We’re half way there now.  We’re lookin good now.  Nothing’s gonna get in the way.”  When I finished my run, I reached for the computer and searched for the full lyrics of this upbeat song, I found a section that personally made a connection. 

  “Seems like going the distance is unrealistic.  We’re too far from the start.  So we take what comes and we keep on going, leaning on each others shoulders.  Then we turn around and see we’ve come so far, somehow.  We’re half way there now.”

  It’s a guarantee in my exercise future; I will face many workouts when I am longing for the half-way marker- looking for that finish line.  I think my goal for now will be to treasure the days when I feel strong, satisfied, and wish the miles would stretch beyond the measured 5,280 feet.

Perfect week to show Gratitude

Thanksgiving week is the perfect time to reflect on our blessings.  Gratitude just happens to be one of my favorite words.  Wouldn't life be filled with more smiles if we showed gratitude every month of the year (not just November)? The story below is actually from a mini-marathon over a year ago. I stumbled across it this morning, and I thought it was a perfect fit for a week filled with thoughts of Thanksgiving!

I truly am grateful for the opportunity to share a passion of running with family and so many friends.  I took advice from other runners, and decided to give “Gratitude Bands” a try at a recent Mini.  I used a Sharpie on wide rubber-bands, and wrote 1 “grateful thought” on 13 different bands.  As I approached the start line, I had 13 rubber-bands on my left wrist.  Each mile marker I crossed provided me the opportunity to transfer 1 rubber-band from my left wrist to my right.  This simple process kept my mind focused, my face smiling, and my feet moving from 1 mile to the next.  As a 10:00 minute-miler, I had (on average) a precious 10 minutes to dwell on 13 different wonderful reasons why I am grateful.  The bands ended up faded from sweat, but the words written on each Gratitude Band meant something very special.  I open my heart to yours as I share all 13 of my Gratitude Bands from the Indianapolis Mini-Marathon on 5/8/10.  Each band represents so much to me, the 13 things for which I am MOST GRATFUL:

1.      My family’s health

2.      Christ’s forgiveness

3.      My upbringing

4.      Dad’s wisdom

5.      Opportunity to coach

6.      Yoga

7.      My “Pia” time (truly my ME time)

8.      Flowers

9.      My siblings

10.  Mike’s love & encouragement

11.  My physical strength

12.  Bryce 

13.  Colin

You are not JUST.

In the grocery store today, I heard the gal behind me in line say - "Just a housekeeper."  I didn't hear anymore of her conversation, but I immediately thought of this story below written in January of this year...

After running today, I couldn’t get my hands on the dictionary fast enough.  The word “Just” surrounded my thoughts with each mile today.  I rushed back to the house to grab the biggest book on the shelf … my dusty dictionary.  To clarify, the adverb Just.  Webster reads - Only or Merely.  Dictionary.com actually quotes, “He was just a clerk until he became ambitious.” 
            After returning from an extended business trip that included a Mini-Marathon, I couldn’t get the word “just” out of my head.  The most frequently asked question during day 1 of my conference was, “Did you run yesterday?”  The infamous follow up question was inevitably, “Did you run the ½ or the full?”  I’m confident that every attendee, including myself, at the Girls on the Run training was asked this set of questions a dozen times. 

I dwell on the word Just based on my answer to the burning question above.  I must have recited the same statement countless times, “Just the half.”  I ran just the half.  I realized each time I spoke these three simple words; I chipped away at the significance of my accomplishment just the day before.  Had I not just run 13.1 amazing miles with 30,000 other runners? 

Luckily a fellow conference attendee and friend pointed out the fact that there was no purpose in “justing” my accomplishment.  Later in the day, this same friend left me a surprise.  A post-it note that simply said … “YOU ARE NOT JUST.  You are awesome and beautiful.”  Thanks Amanda for reminding me that I am not “Just.”  There is nothing wrong with challenging yourself to move beyond society’s definition of just.  I also have to remind myself, there is nothing wrong with loving who you are, what you do, and celebrating just 1 or 13.1 miles.

Thanks to my friend Amanda for cheering for me at the finish line of my Jan. 2011 Mini Marathon in Phoenix AZ, and more importantly for reminding me that I didn't Just run 13.1 miles.  Amanda, you are never Just - I think you are amazing!

Making Memories with Friends & Rain Drops

          This run will go down in the record books.  Not for the most miles, or my fastest pace.  The scrapbook moments are from the raindrops and smiles – too many to count.  Eight other women are most likely giggling right now as I take a moment to jot down how this morning group run was truly one to remember.  
          Certainly, every car that passed each pair of soaking wet shoes must have thought we lost a bet.  No one would claim they wanted to run in the storm we tackled.  We met in the rain, set off on a familiar course, and even decided to take on running down a slick, very steep trail.  The cracks of thunder were noticeably louder than my music at times.  I laughed out loud when ACDC Thunderstruck began to rock at about mile five through my ear-buds.  After countless puddles and six miles, all nine of us eventually met at our finish line.  
          While waiting for our ride “up the hill” – we shared laughs, stories, and even a soaking-wet group photo standing in front of an Emergency Room entrance (no injuries, we just happened to finish our run a block from the hospital).  The best memory of the morning is picturing all of us piled in the back of my husband’s truck.  He offered the cab, but we declined.  For some reason, we all decided to freeze and laugh together, riding like teenagers in the back of his truck back to our cars.  I think the smiles from this run are even better than the dry clothes and hot shower that were waiting for me when I got home. 

Pint-Size Encouragement

Out of the clear blue, my son says to me - "Mom, I think I will run a Marathon with you some day."  These words are worth gold for a proud mother who happens to call herself a runner.  It made me think about the run below ...

I struggled today.  Today was a 10 miler day.  My training schedule and my mind demanded 10 miles, but my body was begging for an easy 6.  A pleasant surprise at mile 6 was delivered to me in a small-sized package … My 8 year old son was anxiously waiting for me with his helmet on his head and CamelBack strapped on (even a Gu pack tucked inside for me).  As my tired legs got closer to my husband’s truck pulled off the side of the road, I could see my son Bryce and his bicycle waiting for me. They remembered my 5 mile out and back chosen path, and thought I might need a pint-sized bubble of encouragement to help me finish the second-half of my run.  Bryce was so thrilled to ride along side of me back home.  I turned off my music and listened to him talk about the smell of the cows and how he would spend his birthday money.  He talked - while I breathed heavy, listened, and smiled.  He felt so proud protecting me by watching for cars and providing water for me when needed.  He pedaled slowly and stayed by my side almost the entire way, until the driveway was in site and he sped up to beat me home.  I would not have had it any other way.  I was so glad he came along!

Glory Bumps

The running experience typed below was from one year ago.  I thought of this special running memory as I was traveling last weekend.  I spent two days in Anderson, IN for my great-mamaw Jackson's funeral.  She was 96 years old when she passed from this earth, in peace, with her daughter, son-in-law, and 5 granddaughters at her side.  My mom was asked to play How Great Thou Art at her funeral, while my aunts, cousins, sisters, and myself sang this blessed song.  We agreed, with joy, to honor her legacy and sing a favorite hymn.  This hymn is special to me personally ... When you read the below paragraph - you will understand why this blog is titled Glory Bumps.

This morning, I experienced a “Goose Bump” moment while running.  You know, one of those moments where your arms tingle with exciting “Glory Bumps” and you can’t help but smile the biggest grin.  While jogging past a downtown church, I noticed the sounds of a piano.  The beautiful sound was probably the pianist practicing for Sunday service.  What made me develop my bumps was the hymn I heard – How Great Thou Art.  I thought about my mother who is an amazing pianist.  Growing up, my sisters and I would sit quietly and smile at each other in the church pews when our mother played a hymn in church that gave you goose bumps.  Let me tell you, to hear her play How Great Thou Art truly gives you glory bumps.  This morning while running, I got a big smile and my goose bumps lasted for several more blocks.