First Phone Call

E 1-40 Field Artillery has "phased up" to white phase!

Red phase (the first phase) is the toughest, because they are all being broken down as civilians in order to be built up as soldiers.  So, no privileges at all.  It typically lasts 3 or more weeks.  4 weeks is not unusual, some platoons stay in red phase for 8 weeks or more of the 10 weeks of training!  Ugh.

We got lucky!  Will's platoon phased up after the minimum of 3 weeks.  Hooray!  Or should I say "Hooah!"

White phase is the second of the three phases in BCT.  In white phase, soldiers can earn the privilege of Sunday phone calls to loved ones.  Notice, that is an earned privilege, not a guarantee.  So, if someone in the platoon screws up severely enough sometime during the week, phone privileges can be revoked for the entire platoon.  Double ugh.

I knew we might get a call today.

I skipped Sacrament meeting.  What if the call came right in the middle of a prayer or the passing of the sacraments?  I couldn't risk it.

I planned to go to the second hour of church, because I had a Sunday School lesson to teach.  I'd just duck out and bail on my class if I had to!  And, of course, right as I was about to leave the house...

...we got the call!!!

Oh, he sounded SO tired!  I could hear that his voice was raspy.  He confirmed that he had a cold.  Everybody there has sore throats, he said.  It was hard to hear him and hard for him to hear us, because he was outside "on the quad", and from time to time platoons would quick march past him screaming cadences at the top of their lungs.  Wonder why all the sore throats?  Partly because of all the shouting they have to do, partly because of all the germs being shared from all over the country.

I tried to contact my Sunday School teaching partner using my daughter's phone, to let her know I'd be very late and that I was oh so sorry (since I was the one who had prepared the lesson).  Then I just had to let it go, because I was choosing my son at that moment.

Will told me that the bunk flipping was actually done by the drill sergeants when the bunk was not made properly.  His bunk had been flipped several times at the beginning, but he'd finally gotten the knack of making a crisp bunk.  He said that if the ds found anyone's locker left unlocked while they were out training, the ds would dump the contents out on the floor.

He also said that he likes his drill sergeant, and that they don't have to do sit ups or push ups for their mail very often, and their letters are private.  Yay!

In every letter I send, I include a printed out quote.  Usually uplifting in some way, sometimes just humorous.  Once I sent him a picture of a soldier doing a "snow angel" on a floor covered in bullet casings.  It said "Don't mind me...  ...I'm just making Freedom Angels!"  He really enjoyed that one and showed it to some of the other guys, who also loved it... so they pinned it up on the community board for everybody to enjoy!  :)  Hooah!

He said he is enjoying the shooting ranges and said he is holding his own in everything they have done so far.  He did mention that his rifle was not zeroed properly at first, and he had to get some help in getting it fixed.  That doesn't surprise me.  I read somewhere that even if you have experience with zeroing your own rifle, you should let the ds help you zero the rifle they issue to you.

He was allowed 30 minutes of time to talk.  He spent 25 of those minutes with us, then told us he wanted to try to call a friend with his last 5 minutes.  They were supposed to have an hour, but someone lost their rifle (um, what? How does that even happen?!), so the whole platoon had to spend 30 minutes looking for it until it was found and lost that time for phone calls.  I hope next week they not only get to call, but that they get the whole hour!

I was happy and upbeat until I realized it was time to say goodbye.  That was really difficult!  I said a tearful goodbye, full of "I Love You!"

And you know what?  As soon as I hung up, I hurried to church and discovered that Sacrament meeting had run over time and I wasn't late to teach my lesson at all!  One of God's tender mercies!  I felt so very blessed.

I'm not going to stop my daily letters.  I still want him to look forward to mail call every day!

Roller Coaster

I don't think I like being an Army Mom.

I don't like the news. No, I hate the news. Every geo-political news story seems scary to me.  As I lay in bed at night, my horrid mind replays all the bad things happening in the world, and my over-active imagination sees my son heading to the battle front in one of a half dozen places around the world. I have to keep reminding myself that he is "safely" still at Basic Training.  And even when he is done with training, he is coming home to serve in a Reserve Unit.

Ha! "Safe" is a relative term. I know he is physically safe. No harm will come to him, unless he pulls a muscle, or something. Still, I worry.

I joined a couple of Facebook support groups for the families of soldiers doing basic training at Ft. Sill.  Some of the support is great!  Some of the "support" actually adds to my stress levels.

For instance, soldiers are allowed only a few, specific items to be shipped to them from their families. Anything on the "contraband" list will result in punishment (sit ups or push ups) for the soldier, and possibly for his/her entire platoon.  I read of one soldier that got a bag of candy. His entire platoon had to do push ups while he sat at a table in the middle of the room and ate the entire bag of candy in one sitting.  If someone's parent gets a little too eager and tags or posts to the pictures on the battalion Facebook wall?  Yeah, sit ups for EVERYBODY!  Sometimes, it is just the soldier that gets singled out. Like, say your family sends you a postcard instead of a letter? The Drill Sergeant is going to read that out loud to the entire platoon for you.  How thoughtful. Some parents have a wicked sense of humor and think sending "Monkey Butt" powder or "Boogie Wipes" to their soldier is a hoot!  Maybe their soldier has a great sense of humor, but what if the Drill Sergeant is in a bad mood for some reason?  Sit ups galore, and they just doomed their soldier to be nicknamed "Monkey Butt" or "Booger" for the duration of basic.

Will is supposed to be "phasing up" from Red Phase to White Phase, soon.  That has less to do with what they are learning and more to do with the level of restrictions placed on them.  During the Red Phase, the soldiers in training have NO privileges.  No phone calls, in particular.  Red Phase generally lasts 3 weeks, but can last much longer if the platoon won't settle down and be disciplined.  When they move to White Phase, they will be allowed their phones on Sundays to make short calls home.  Oh, I can't wait!  But I also know (from the support groups) that often times that phone privilege is lost for the entire platoon due to the bad behavior of ONE soldier.  If any one idiot decides to mouth off to the Drill Sergeant, I won't get to hear from my son.  So, now I am praying for an entire platoon of soldiers to keep their noses clean, just so I can hear my son's voice!

We already know we missed out on a phone call back on Independence Day because somebody cussed in formation and wouldn't fess up about it to the Drill Sergeant.

I am hearing that certain platoons are severely struggling with behavior issues.  I haven't heard of problems with Will's platoon, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed that he's gotten lucky and been placed in a more mature group!  I am hoping that most of what I'm hearing about problem platoons are actually Split Training platoons.  Split Training means 17 year old soldiers who are doing basic training during the summer before their senior year of high school, then the AIT (advanced individual training) or job training next summer after they graduate.  The Army will run entire groups of kids as Split Training platoons in the summer time. A whole platoon of 17 year olds.  Shudder!  A normal platoon will be varied in age from the almost 18 year olds that barely graduated from high school to the "gramps" of the platoon at 35, the maximum age you can enlist in the Army.  That wide of a range hopefully helps elevate the maturity level, right?

And then there's the tearful and panicked mother on the support group who reports that her SIT (soldier in training) missed passing the riffle qualifications by one shot, and is being given the choice of being "recycled" or go home!  "Recycled" means starting basic training over.  She is panicked because she can't contact her to talk it out and can only hope she makes the right choice.

Great.  Something else to worry about!  Bill says not to worry, Will is gonna pass his qualifications.  I believe that.  I have confidence in my son and his abilities.  I just have to tell my imagination to shut up!  At least I don't have to worry about his running qualification times!  He told me in a recent letter that he ran a 6:36 mile!  (I struggle with a 10 minute mile, shhh!)

I have started stalking the mailman.  I have discovered that he normally delivers our mail at about 10 am.  So, when he didn't show up and didn't show up... and it was 4 pm and still no mail... I was about to get on the phone to the post office to find out JUST WHAT IS GOING ON ANYWAYS... when he showed up at 4:05......  And then there was no letter.  What a let down!  But, at least my letter to Will got picked up!  I was ready to snatch it out of the box and drive it down to the post office myself to make sure it made today's post!

Oh. One more thing.  Apparently today someone started a rumor that there was an active shooter running around on the base.

Just a rumor people.  Go about your business.  There is nothing to see here!

AURGH!!!

I am fine with the fact that it was only a rumor.  Great.  Glad to hear it.

But, did you realize that I had not once connected other base shootings to a potential for a threat to my own son until just this very minute?!  Thanks, you moron!  Whomever you are starting pernicious rumors!  I was happily ignorant until now.  Sheesh.  Now my imagination is gonna have a field day with that one tonight as I lay in bed trying to go to sleep without watering my pillow.

Ah. Being an Army Mom is mentally hard.

BUT I FEEL SO VERY PROUD OF HIM!!!  I want to shout it from the roof tops!  I want to tell every stranger I meet, "Hello. Nice to meet you.  Did you know my son is in the Army?  Why, yes, he is brave and wonderful and amazing and all of those other truly awesomely nice things! He's my hero and I just wanted you to know about him, so he can be your hero, too!"

A little over the top?

That's the roller coaster I'm on right now, folks!  When is this ride over? ;)

Missing Summers Past

Do I have a bunch of other things I should be doing?  Of course.  If I wanted to do them, though, don't you think I would have started on them by now?  Sheesh.  Summer is my time to procrastinate horribly on all things not lazy and summery.

Now that we have that out of the way, I have to tell you why this is the hardest summer, ever!

No, really.

Summers had been my time to play with my kids.  We hung out at the pool, or the lake, or the water park (notice the water related theme?), we watched movies, or we wandered around town looking for fun stuff to do.  We'd flood the backyard and paddle around in it, then watch the dragonflies dance across the makeshift pond.  When they were little, they'd have sleep outs in the tree house up in the cherry tree.  Later, the backyard campouts moved down to a tent in the yard when they got too big for the tree house.  Their friends came over and we had late night bonfires, roasting hot dogs and s'mores while lazily listening to the crickets and the train whistle in the distance while counting stars.  Sweet summertime teen romances flared up only to die down with the start of a new school year.

My summer was full of my kids.

Not so much, anymore.

Helena works full time.  Her boyfriend has relocated to Oregon, so when she's not at work, she's Skyping him.  That is how it should be.  When she has a day off, we spend it together, so I'm not totally alone, but her days off are few and far between.  It's not the same as when we all had summer vacation together.  She has grown up.

Will is gone.  We write letters.  He writes letters.  I had NO IDEA how difficult this would be for me. I think about him constantly.  Correction, I worry about him constantly!  He is doing something so difficult, only made worse by the disgusting heat he has to do it in!  I can't fall asleep at night for worrying about him.  I wake up early worrying about him.  If I could siphon off some of my energy and willpower and send it to him, I would in a heartbeat.

I thought I was prepared for this.  After all, I was an Army Sister, and a Navy Sister-in-Law.  And I was a Marines Step-Mom.  And I did worry about my brothers and my step son.  But not like this!  I can't decide if it is just because he is my youngest, or if it is because we share a special bond that is rare for a teen son and his Mom.  All I know is that I pray for him almost constantly.  I watch the news with extra concern.  It feels like the world is imploding and I want to keep my son safe, but I can't because he is a soldier and that is what he chose.

I have always been a worrier, anyways.  I used to worry about the kids walking home from Elementary School.  I worried when they got their driver's license.  I worried when they went on their first dates.  I worry whenever they have to face something new.

It is amazing I don't have a stomach full of ulcer holes, actually.

So, I wish I could go back in time and relive those summers past.

If you are in the thick of a child filled summer, CHERISH IT!  It will not come again!  Play with them! Swim with them!  Forget about the chores!  Who cares about the house!

Go!

Do stuff WITH the kids!

Make memories and savor every moment.

Endings and Beginnings

Hallo!  We are just about to say 'good-bye' and 'good luck' to our young soldier.  I have tried to pack as much fun into the month of June as I could.  It will be his only month of summer vacation, so I wanted it to be fun and memorable.

We had family pictures taken.  I'll post some as soon as I get them from Miss Saren (Mrs., actually, but she'll always be a young 'Miss' to me, since I'm turning into an old person).  We swam.  We went to the movies.  We ate out more often than we could technically afford.  We BBQ-ed.  We had bonfires in the back yard.  We went to the lake and windsurfed/kayaked/stowed away on some dude's catamaran (only Will did the last part, but, HEY! sounds cool).  And, I took him and his 'battle buddy', Private Paul, up to the Solomon Center in Ogden (2 hr. round trip) so they could do indoor skydiving/rock climbing/indoor surfing!  That was a fun day!  Well, all except realizing when we got home that he had lost his dog tags.  GAH!!!  I went into panic mode.  They have his name and SS number on them!  I know he will be issued new tags when he arrives at Basic.  Most new recruits get their first tags at Basic.  Will has had dog tags for almost a year, however, because he enlisted last July and has been serving in his Reserve unit ever since.  He has already received a promotion, in fact, and will be doing Basic as a Private 2nd Class.

Anyways, I hurried and called every venue up in Ogden and asked for them to look for the tags.  And, wouldn't you know it, THEY FOUND THEM!  HOORAY!  The Flowrider staff found them over by the Costa Vida (where we ate dinner).  They are going to mail them back to us, so we don't have to drive for 2 hours to retrieve them.  One of life's little blessings!

So, I'm down to counting hours before my son leaves for this big adventure.  I'm excited for him, but I'm sad for me.  I will miss him something fierce!  When Helena moved out, I stood in her room several times and just teared up over missing her... even though she was only two towns over and often brought her laundry home &/or came "shopping" in my pantry.  This will be much harder.  I have no doubt I will spend some maudlin moments in his room, too.  I'm extra thankful that Helena moved back home.  That will make this easier for me.

No Skype.  No phone calls.  No texts.

Only snail mail.

They will give him his mail once a week, and make him earn it with push ups.  No packages allowed.  Just words of encouragement and photos.  He WILL get to call me once on the day after he arrives at the base, to let me know he arrived safely.  After that, he MIGHT be allowed to call every few weeks... if he earns it &/or the Drill Sargent is in the mood.

Meanwhile, I have to move on with my plans for the summer.

Normally, I have a routine planned out from day one of summer break.  Not this year.  I let June roll over me in one big jumble of activity.  So, starting July 1st, I am getting back into a schedule.  Not a rigid-my-days-are-packed kind of schedule.  Just a routine.

Get up at 6
Work out from 7-9 (this could be walking/jogging/bike riding/weights/whatever)
Yard work (and house repairs) until lunch at 11:30
housework for an hour after lunch
personal improvement (sketching/painting/Rosetta Stone) for two hours in the afternoon.
Unplug at 8
Swim from 8:30 to 9:30
Bed at 10

There are some rigid time frames in there.  Notably the getting up/exercising/going to bed times.  I find I do better at exercise if I am more rigid with it.  The rest can shift as needed, and it leaves me plenty of 'down' time to be a lazy summer slug and lounge around poolside or on the porch.  I need that just as much as the exercise!  And, of course, there will be some interruptions to that plan.  The Steel Days Art Show will consume a week in mid-July, and I will be teaching children's community art classes for a week in late July.

Saturdays and Sundays won't have all that going on.  Those days will be pretty unstructured.

Actually, I plan to use my Saturdays to work on Will's room.  It is due for an overhaul.  I won't say more, now.  Just know I have some exciting plans that I hope to surprise him with when he comes home!

So, I say farewell to my boy, and hope to welcome him back 6 months from now as a soldier and a man.

Acknowledging the Simple Blessings of Life

On Memorial Day, I went for a walk.  It was a gorgeous day.  The sky was blue, the air was warm, the flowers were blooming.

It was a good day to be alive!

I've been struggling for the past three months.  I have been sick.  No, I don't really know what it is.  I went to the doctor several times, was put on three different antibiotics, and a course of steroids (to bring the coughing under control enough so I would stop throwing up. Yeah, fun times).  Still no improvement.  I've had every bit of advice thrown my way, from "oh, it's probably just allergies." (Um, NO.  It's not.), to "You should really be using X, Y, and Z essential oils.  You'd be cured in a matter of days." (Not a fan.  I had a student a couple of years ago whose mother was convinced could study and learn better if DOUSED in essential oils daily.  Yeah, the rest of us had massive headaches from the overpowering aroma until the principal put his foot down and told the mother it was too much.  And, no, the oils DID NOT make her smarter.)  I wish I could tell people just how very unhelpful their armchair doctoring is to me.  I don't mind sympathy, I don't need amateur doctors.

The real doc thinks it is bronchitis, but I've never heard of bronchitis sticking around for this long.  He insists it's not pneumonia, so there's that.  For what it's worth.

Meanwhile, back at the farm, life goes on much as you'd expect with mostly grown kids.  Late night worrying and late-teen temptations and frustrations being what they are, I never quite get enough sleep.  Also, the stress of being the mom has gifted me with an impressive collection of acne smattered across my chin.  So sexy in a 40 something year old.

So, you can see what a gift that beautiful day was to me.  As I was walking the neighborhood, I reflected that I really do live in a great location!  I live in what most people would call a fair to big sized city, but I live in the old district.  That means that the library, grocery store, church, cemetery, several parks, an elementary, junior high, and high school are all within walking distance.  And, of course, the city rec. center is only a half block away, too!  Work out classes and equipment, an indoor track, and two pools (olympic lap pool and leisure pool w/water slide/lazy river) plus hot tub!

It is good to be reminded sometimes of the awesomeness of life that we sometimes take for granted because most of the time it just fades to the background as we go about living.

And stressing.

Sigh.  (Really, I'm okay.  This, too, will pass)

Not so Utopian

Why have I been missing in action for so long, you ask?







I shut down when life turns difficult.  The more difficult, the more I retreat.  From this record, anyways.

Things have been hard around here.  Really hard.  Struggles and difficulties that I can't talk about because they are not my tales to tell.  It is not my job to tell all the stories of the world.  Or even all the stories in the family.  I can only tell mine, and the stories of others when they are positive and upbeat.  But when the stories are not upbeat, when the road is rocky, I'm not going to share.  Not even when the stories ARE mine, actually.  Since I can't just go on writing breezy, lighthearted posts when my heartstrings are being plucked, I will remain silent.

It used to be that I wrote in hardbound journals, and I would write EVERYTHING.  For years I did that.  The good and the bad.  And then I discovered something.  When I was feeling happy and looked back through the journals, I saw the good and it confirmed my good mood.  But I also saw the bad, and it brought me down.  Total buzz kill.  When I was feeling down, I'd look back through the journals and ONLY see the bad... confirming my black mood.

So writing about bad times, for me, is a double negative.  Which in this case (unlike in math) does NOT equate to a positive.

So, no.  It's not just the online nature of this journal.  It is a life lesson.  Don't immortalize the negative moments of life.  Don't afford them that honor.  I'm not saying ignore them in the moment.  Bad times happen to everyone, and they need to be dealt with in a healthy way.  For me, writing them down is not a healthy way to deal with them.

I know many would disagree with me.  They might say that getting the thoughts out of my head and verbalizing them would be cathartic.  That without sharing, there can be no healing help from others.  Or even that I create an unrealistically utopian view of my life by editing out the negative.  Please understand.  I am not being completely silent.  I am getting the help needed in the moment.  In real time, real face-to-face interactions with people around me.  I'm not depressed or in danger of becoming so.  I am simply not willing to look back to this point in my life and have anger, frustration, or worry be the permanent record.

Anyways, that is why the hiatus.  Time will smooth the road out, and I will return to my breezy posts and light filled reports of all things wonderful.  My "utopian" record.  ;)

The Workout Schedule

I have set stuff I like to do.  I like to swim.  I like to run.  I like to ride my bike.  Triathlon stuff.

So, I'll revisit my old triathlon type training and see where that takes me.

I think this year I'll make Saturday and Sunday my rest days.  At least until summer vacation.  That will give me the time I need to get weekend chores done and spend time with the family, I hope.

So, I'm splitting my workouts into two categories; MWF and TTh.

MWF will be running training and weights/core work.  My running goal for the next 10 weeks is to speed up on my 5K.  I average 31 minutes with a best time of 28 minutes.  In 10 weeks I want 28 minutes to be the new average time for the 5K distance.  We'll see what my new best time will become!  I have an app called 5K Forever that I will be working with to try and meet this goal.  The app is designed specifically to help 5K runners improve their time, so I'm excited to give it a go!  Today was my first day using the app and it went well.

Core work means situps, pushups, squats, lunges, and planks.  My 10 week end goal is 200 situps, 100 pushups, 100 squats, 200 lunges, and 120 second planks.  Weights will be just maintenance stuff on my arms.

TTh workouts will be cycle class and swimming.  The swimming is iffy, because TTh are long lanes, which means less available lanes (short lanes can be up to 8 lanes, long lanes are at max of 5).  With the Resolutioners in the gym, I might not get a lane for a little while, but I'll do my best.  I haven't created specific goals for cycle and swim.  Just to do them and push myself each day.  Work on form and endurance, mostly.

Resolutioners!  It's that time of year, again.  Today was great.  There was no crowd, yet.  I expect the crowds will hit just after the annual pass sale and fitness fair next week.  Ugh.  They all sign up, plunk down their money for an annual pass, crowd out the regulars for two months, then disappear.  Most equipment breakage happens during this time because they also bring along their kids, who abuse the equipment.

I'm really not against New Year's Resolutions!  I just really believe in only making goals I intend to achieve.  Why would you spend the money and not follow through?  Why give up after only a few weeks?  Why do there have to be so many of them that I can't get my workouts done?  The gym oversells knowing many will quit.  So in January and February the facility is really over capacity.

Still, some of them end up turning into regulars, and in that case, they are very welcome!  For now, I'll have to show up early to cycle class in order to get my preferred bike, and I might have to get creative with my running workouts if all the treadmills are taken.

2014

Hello there.

Bet you thought I'd forgotten my little online journal.


Nope.

I've just gotten way too distracted by life.

But, I'm here, now.  And I'm gonna try to stay with it.

It's a time for new resolutions, after all!

That's right!  WELCOME TO 2014 AND THE NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION POST!

I'm a goal setting kind of person.  I don't get too bent out of shape if I fail to reach them all... I just like to set them and see how far it takes me.  So, here goes!

Last Sunday, the bishop mentioned some advice he'd been giving on setting goals.  He called them goals, not resolutions, because you really should be constantly assessing, adjusting, and setting goals.  It is not just a New Year thing.  Anyways, he said the advice was to set 3 health goals for yourself...  one for physical health, one for mental health, and one for spiritual health.  That sounds like a great idea.

Of course, I have a boatload of PHYSICAL HEALTH goals I'd like to tackle.

For instance, I want to;

• Get to bed 'early' every night.  'Early' means 10-10:30 nightly (as I type this at 11:30 pm).  The problem with that is that I still have a wandering teen in the house to wait up for on occasion.  And, lets face it, I'm a night owl and have to force myself to bed most nights.   Grrrr.  Instead, I want to set a goal to try for 8 HOURS OF SLEEP per night.  I think I can manage that, most of the time.
• Get up at 6 am every school day to MAKE BREAKFAST FOR WILL.  That one is more for Will's physical/mental health than for mine.  I know.  I'm a horrible mother!  Most mornings he rolls out of bed at 7:20 am and leaves for school at 7:30... with no breakfast.  I've never been one of those "let me feed you all the meals" kind of people.  Still, I'm gonna try!  That means I will have to strive for that 10 pm bedtime on school nights if I'm gonna make that first goal.
• BUILD A NEW WORKOUT SCHEDULE AND STICK TO IT.  I've fallen off the workout wagon, somewhat.  And by fallen off, I mean I'm still holding on to the wagon and am being dragged in the dirt behind it.  I've struggled all through the holidays.  I'm making it to about 1/2 of my scheduled workouts each week.  I know I can do better.  I know I will feel better if I do better.  So, I will.
• BREAK THE STUPID SODA HABIT!  Here's another wagon I fell off of, people.  Gah!  Stupid, stupid soda!  Why does sugar have to taste so good?!  I feel like this is my Achilles heel.  My willpower battle royale.  So, I will keep up the fight and try again.
• GO TO THE DOCTOR and have the various things taken care of that need attention.  Vericose veins & moles.  I met my deductible this year, so I might as well take care of stuff. ya know?

MENTAL HEALTH Goals

• DE-CLUTTER.  I want to pick one room each month and get rid of as much as I possibly can.  Clear out the accumulation of 13-14 years of living in one place.  You know what I mean.  Things can pile up over time.  Papers and books and nick-nacks.  Picture frames I meant to paint all black, fill with pictures, and hang on the wall; but are instead all piled in a corner of the dining room gathering dust.  The puzzle that was built and mod-podged, but is waiting on top of the dryer for me to find a 22"x24" (or was it x28"?) frame so I can hang it on the wall.  All those random bits and pieces of living that need a proper home, or just simply need to go away permanently.  How is that mental health, you ask?  A cluttered home = a cluttered mind.  I think I could focus better with a more spartan house.
• KEEP UP WITH ROSETTA STONE.  I have been working on learning Spanish with Rosetta Stone.  I work at a Spanish Immersion elementary school, and the administration has provided Rosetta Stone for all the teachers and students to use.  Really such a great resource!  I could have chosen any language to work on, and I was tempted to brush up my French.  But, I want to learn Spanish, for work.  Learning a language should keep my mind sharp, especially since it sometimes feels like some of the gears are starting to slip from time to time.
• KEEP UP WITH MY BLOG.  This is my journal.  I need a place to crystalize my thoughts, and this is that place.  It is such a shame that so many good thoughts got lost over the months that I neglected to write.  I focus my writing on the positive events in my life, and it helps ME to stay positive.  Otherwise, I might let the negative creep in and get too much of a foothold in my life.  Keep your sharing POSITIVE!  Whether in a blog, or on Facebook, only record the positive.  You get back what you send out, so be careful what you send out there!

SPIRITUAL HEALTH Goals

• RENEW MY TEMPLE RECOMMEND.  I haven't held a current recommend in years.  I don't really have a good reason.  Just laziness.  I'm a slacker.  I need to rededicate myself and get back to the temple.  I'm looking forward to some Celestial Room meditations.  
• PRAYERS/SCRIPTURES EVERY MORNING.  That's gonna be part of the getting up at 6 am gig.  I'm shooting for a morning something like this:  15 min. me time (potty, stretching), 15 min. prayer/scriptures, 30 min. breakfast prep., have breakfast with Will (& hopefully Helena), send Will out the door at 7:30, get myself ready for work & out the door around 8:15.

So, there you have it.  I'm not good at the one goal per section kind of thing.  Still, I like my goals and I'm looking forward to implementing them.  Tomorrow I think I'll build that workout schedule!

If you are setting goals this week, I wish you all the best in achieving them!  I'm no cynic about New Year's Resolutions... I've accomplished many of mine over the years, so I know they are worthwhile endeavors.

So, set your goals and chase 'em down!

Cheers to a bright 2014!

Back

My back has been hurting.  It hasn't been agonizing, most of the time.  Mostly it has been a dull ache that drives me nuts.  It has been hurting ever since I got rear ended TWO YEARS AGO.  Most days I could ignore it.  I'd take Naproxen and forget about it.  I didn't realize how much I was leaning on the Naproxen Sodium until this fall, when I started taking more and more of it, with no results.  Then we ran out at about the same time that I was taking dangerously high doses just to manage my afternoons.  By September of this fall, it got bad enough for me to break down and go back to a doctor about it.

I'm not a doctor kind of person.  I'd just as soon deal with it myself.  But, when I started gasping in surprised pain in the middle of teaching lessons at school I realized I really had to do something about it.  Students wanted to know what's wrong.

So frustrating!

The Doc listened, noted that I can still move about and touch my toes, and sent me to the Physical Therapist.

As you know, I've been very active these past two years.  I run, bike, kayak, and swim.  But the biking has slowly been sidelined.  Biking never really happened this summer.  The one time I went with Bill was just too agonizing to repeat.  Kayaking never happened this summer, either.  Running was a delicate balance of training carefully and pain killers.  Running slowly petered out, too, until I had to give myself a serious pep talk just to do a 5K on a treadmill.  Swimming, however, stayed GOLDEN!  It is the perfect injured person workout!  Every doc I've seen has encouraged me to keep up with the swimming, since there is little chance of pain or injury aggravation with it.

Anyways, I went off to pt for a month, shelling out copay after copay.  It's hard to fit an extra $60/week into the budget, especially when it didn't seem to be helping.  Talk about stress.

So, after a month of pt with no results, the Doc finally ordered an MRI.

Those suckers are expensive!  We'll have to pay a large chunk of it, but then my deductible will be met for the year.  Again, not in the budget.  Christmas will be homemade this year since our holiday budget has been shot by this.

To make a long story short, I got a call back from the doc after the MRI saying it didn't show much and recommending more pt.  That didn't sit well.  I scheduled a consult and talked it out with him.  Up until that meeting I don't think he really heard me.  He finally did hear me, though, and recommended a pain specialist.

So, here we are.  I met with the Anesthesiologist/Pain Specialist.  He heard my full story, looked over the MRI, and inspected my back.  His diagnosis was surprising and very hopeful!  I can't tell you how amazing the difference is between a general practice doctor and a specialist!  I won't bore you with the details.  I will just say that I have a procedure coming up on Monday that sounds risky (to me, anyways), but if successful, will confirm the diagnosis 100% and give me a pain free existence for several months!  In fact, if it works, the pain doc has ordered me to return to my normal workout routines as quickly as possible.

If this works, we'll know exactly why the pain is happening and how to manage it (because the doc said it might be chronic).

I'm excited and nervous.  Cross your fingers, say a prayer, and we'll see!

I'm a Wreck

It is ridiculous how much time has gone by without a post.  Life, I guess.

There have been many times I have meant to sit down and write about something that has happened, but the moment passes and now I forget what I wanted to say.  Hopefully it wasn't too important.

Summer has gone, and I feel cheated out of the best weather of the year.

I'm sick, you see.

I had Strep for a week (including the weekend), which morphed into a cold with chest congestion that has ruined yet another weekend for me.  Bah humbug and harrumph.  I hate being sick, but it is especially rude in late September - when we experience the most amazing and awesome weather of the year!  Two perfect weekends totally ruined.  I'm feeling quite bitter.

My family has taken advantage of the weather, though.  Bill has been on multiple bike rides.  Helena did the Electric Run at Thanksgiving Point, which looked like a cross between a 5K and a rock concert.  Will took a friend with him to windsurf on the lake all day.  He got an impressive sunburn.

I sat inside rubbing my nose raw on tissues.

I also missed the last week of outdoor swimming.  Grrr.

Still, onward and upward, eh?

I'm starting to want to exercise again, a sure sign I'm getting better.  And really, October has great hiking weather, so there's that to anticipate.

Meanwhile, I'm in physical therapy for the spot on my back that got hurt in the car accident last year.  It started hurting again for no apparent reason.  The doctor said that the insurance won't cover the cost of an MRI until after p/t has been done.  Phooey.  P/T costs a $30 copay each time I go, which is twice a week.  It does not fit in the budget, but what do you do?

Man!  I'm a wreck!

Pioneer Trek Part 2

Before I recount my experiences on a handcart trek reenactment, I feel the need to give a couple of bits of background information.

If you are asking "What is a Pioneer Handcart Trek?"  Here is a link that briefly gives some facts and background to a small but significant piece of historical American westward migration.

HANDCART PIONEERS

Every six years or so, handcart trek reenactments are organized by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints to give the youth (12-18 year old members) the opportunity to experience, in a small way, the hardships, faith, determination, and courage of their pioneer ancestors.  The youth are organized into "families" and assigned a "Ma & Pa" and a handcart.  All adults involved in this endeavor are volunteers and often use their own vacation/personal leave time from work in order to pull this off. Each participant is given a 5 gallon bucket to pack any and all gear and equipment into (except for tents and sleeping gear), which are placed in the handcart along with 2 food coolers and 2 five gallon water jugs.  No electronics of any type are allowed on the journey.  We estimated that the handcarts weighed approximately 500 lbs. fully loaded.  Then the "families" would pull their handcart for 3 days, camping in the desert/wilderness for two nights.

Here is the second tidbit of information...

I hate camping.  My idea of roughing it is staying in a hotel instead of a time share, and maybe even being willing to stay in a hotel with no pool (shudder!).  Yet, when we were asked to volunteer to be a "Ma & Pa", we agreed to do it.

Dedicating the Experience

Each person participating in this event was asked to research the Willie and Martin handcart companies, and to choose a specific pioneer in whom to dedicate their handcart experience, preferably an ancestor, if one existed in the companies.

I do not have pioneer ancestors, but Bill does.  Emily Wall is Bill's grandmother six generations removed.  She and her brother, Joseph Wall, were members of the Willie handcart company.  I trekked for Emily, Bill trekked for Joseph.  Here is their story...

The Wall family lived in England in the 1850's and had joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.  They wanted to join the main congregation of saints in the Salt Lake valley (which was not even part of America at the time), but could not afford the journey for the whole family.  It was decided that the two oldest children, Joseph (17) and Emily (16), would leave the family and make the "Journey to Zion", as it was called.

{Side note:  As a parent, I can't even begin to fathom the sacrifice of that decision!  To leave their family and all that they know at such a young age!  And, at that time in history, they had to know that it was likely they'd never see one another again!}

Emily and Joseph set sail on the Thornton and joined the Willie handcart company.

At some point on the trail, and past the point of no return, Joseph became deathly ill.  The leaders of the company determined that it was unlikely he would survive the day.  They left Emily and one of her young friends sitting with the dying Joseph on the side of the trail and continued with the rest of the company to the evening camp, intending to send riders back to assist in burying Joseph and bringing the girls back to camp.  When the riders retraced the trail and found the girls, Joseph was still alive!  Emily begged the men to place her brother in her handcart and she vowed to pull him herself.

And she did.  She pulled her handcart (with the help of her friend), with her 17 year old brother in it, all the way to the Salt Lake valley; even through the bitter trials that beset that particular handcart company.  Both she and Joseph survived.

I can't tell you how fiercely proud I am of this young woman's faith, courage, love and dedication!  I tear up just thinking about her.

Day 1

We arrived, in pioneer costume, bright and early at the church building to load into buses and head out to the trek site, having delivered our camping gear (tents, food/water coolers, bedding, and 5 gallon buckets of essentials) the night before.  I ended up having to send Bill back home because in the excitement of leaving in the morning, I forgot a couple of essential items (neck coolers and gifts I had made for my "children").  Three buses delivered the approximately 120 youth and their adult leaders.  Originally, Bill and I had been assigned 7 kids, but on the night before trek we received an e-mail telling us one of the boys had pulled out.  On the morning of trek, we discovered one of the girls had also pulled out.  That left us with 5 "children", three girls and two boys.  It made us one of the smaller families and meant that our kids would spend the majority of their time physically pushing/pulling the handcart.  Other, larger families could rotate the youth, giving them breaks from the hard work of pulling the handcart.

That first day, we pulled the handcarts for about 10 miles over relatively flat ground.  Part of the day was cool and windy, part of the day was hot.  There is a joke in Utah that says if you don't like the weather, wait 5 minutes or drive 5 miles.  Really, the weather here is that changeable.  The ground alternated between gravelly and powdery dirt.  We all got coated in fine, gritty grime by the end of the day.  For a while, I had a bandana covering my face, trying to filter it out.  I can't tell you how good it felt to finally pull into camp on the first night.  Hot, hungry and foot-sore, we put up our tents.

The original members of the Willie and Martin handcart companies ran into trouble because they left late in the season, and no one knew they were coming.  When they reached the re-fueling way stations, there was no one there and no supplies with which to restock.  They had to cut rations again and again in their attempt to reach the valley.  By the end (just before they were rescued), they were down to 4 ounces of flour per adult, and 2 onces of flour per child each day!  They mixed it in water and drank it.  Many men mixed their own portion with their wife's and children's, telling their families that they had already eaten back at the supply wagon.  That is why so many more men died than women.  They were literally sacrificing their own lives in the hopes that their families would survive.

Fortunately, we have no desire to put the youth though that kind of experience!  There was an incredible support staff that brought in food to the camps for every meal.  We were well fed.

Once everyone had eaten and had their tents up (girls on one side of camp, boys on the other, leaders tents in the middle), everyone gathered for square dancing.

!!!

Oh, my feet hurt!  I DID NOT want to dance.

But, we danced.  And it was FUN!  There was so much laughter.  It was really fun to see these young people who are usually completely plugged in (texting and zoned out with earbuds in) being so playful and full of life.

There were lots of devotionals, prayers, and singing...

... but there were no showers.

We had packed baby wipes and used those to get as clean as we could in our tent before going to bed.  Of course, the very next morning, we had to put back on the same grimy and gritty clothes we had worn the day before, because we only had one set of pioneer clothes.

Let me just say a few words about the clothes.  Yes, I still think pioneer women wore too many bulky clothes.  However, I noticed something almost from the beginning.  It suddenly didn't matter what my body looked like under all those clothes.  It didn't matter that my tummy pooches more than I'd like.  It didn't matter if my underarms sagged a bit.  It didn't matter that I'm carrying around 20 lbs. of extra fat.  None of that mattered because you couldn't really tell under all those clothes.  There is nothing revealing about those clothes, whatsoever.  All that mattered was what was in my mind and in my heart.

Day 2

We woke up to the bugle call at 6 am.  I had a rotten night sleep, waking at 2:30 am needing to pee, but being unwilling to disturb the camp with a flashlight dash to the port-a-johns in the dark.  So, I tossed and turned in discomfort until 5 am, when it was finally light enough out to venture through camp sans flashlight.  After tearing down the camp, breakfast, and morning devotional, we headed out for day two of handcart trekking.

The second day was only 5 or 6 miles, but they were on rougher terrain and in bad weather.  Cold and wet in the morning, scorching in the afternoon.  The kids had to push and pull through the rain wearing ponchos.  The dust turned to mud that caked the handcart wheels and the bottoms of everyone's feet, making shoes feel like lead.  Still, the rain meant cool weather, for which we were all grateful.  The afternoon weather turned blisteringly hot, leaving us pulling into evening camp in 100 * temperatures.

Let me take a moment to talk about my "kids" on trek.  We had two senior aged girls, Maddi and Ashley, a junior aged boy, Chandler, a sophomore girl named Tianna, and Kaden, our freshman "son". Maddi and Ashley were WONDERFUL big sisters!  They were so helpful and kind to the younger kids!  They both had wonderful singing voices and were very mature, grounded girls.  We had no silly giggling fits (thank goodness!), no worries about them sneaking off with boyfriends, being out after curfew, or leaving chores undone.  Chandler was a quiet, sober, and slightly geeky boy.  I say that as a compliment.  There was no bluster or false bravado in him.  He was always quick to help and to obey.  Really a solid gold "son"!  Tianna was what you might call our "challenge" child.  She wandered off constantly and I spent a great deal of time just trying to keep her with the family.  Yet she wasn't malicious about it.  I got the sense that it was part of her nature.  She lived in her head and had a hard time focusing and hearing when we called her name.  Our youngest, Kaden, was the life of the party.  He's one of those kids with excess personality!  His friend, Tony, often wandered over to our family handcart, announcing that he was our "adopted son".  Just like Chandler, Kaden was a hard worker and never shirked a responsibility or disobeyed.  I was just so impressed by these young people!  I'm so proud I got to be their "Ma"!

After another evening of square dancing, group devotional and family devotional, we headed to bed.

Here are a couple of side stories, not specific to my little family.

While the tents were being set up in the 100 * heat, a girl from another family passed out in her tent.  Her trek "sisters" thought she was just napping and left her alone.  Fortunately, her "Ma" thought it was odd that she would be napping in a hot tent and went to check on her.  Upon finding her unresponsive, she quickly summoned the medic, Brother Smith, who took the girl back to the lodge and administered an IV to get some fluids in her.  I believe she ended up being transported to the hospital and missed the rest of the trek.

At about 10:30 pm (30 minutes after curfew), a strong wind hit the camp.  Suddenly a bunch of girls started screaming!  Moments later we had girls amongst the leaders' tents calling out for their "Ma's and Pa's" because their tents had collapsed.  We hurried out and found two of the big walled tents down.  One was a quick fix, anchoring the stakes down more firmly.  The other one, however, had a shattered pole!  Some duct tape and a shuffling of sound poles to the windward side and damaged poles to the leeward side fixed up the tent and everyone headed back to bed.

Day 3

This was another short mileage day.  Something between 5 and 6 miles.  But it was the day with the biggest challenges... the Women's Pull and the River Crossing.

The Women's Pull

Many pioneer women ended up pulling the handcarts across the plains by themselves.  Some came alone.  Others lost their husbands on the way.  There are many accounts of these amazing women pulling handcarts and caring for large families alone for literally hundreds of miles.  Emily Wall was one of them.  As a way to honor that heritage, and to help the young women in our care learn that they are stronger than they know, the men were pulled away from the families, and the girls took the handcarts alone for about a mile.  But not just any mile.  A grueling and brutal mile.  Part was uphill, all was in ankle deep silt.  The carts were bogged down by it.  The pull was extremely taxing.

The girls were watched over by the "Ma's", but we had specific instructions NOT to help.  Oh, that was SO HARD!  To watch those girls struggle!  I knew that the lion's share of the burden was falling on Ashley and Maddi.  Sweet young Tianna was not a hard worker.  Maddi and Tianna ended up in front, Ashley pushing from the back.  Ashley got literally coated with dust, but she never flagged in her efforts.  The cart lurched and jerked to a halt several times, and I admit I stepped in to help steer it aright and to budge it forward from time to time.  But I mostly walked by their side and watched these excellent girls struggle and hummed hymns of encouragement to give their minds a focus on something other than their difficulties.

The men and boys were lined up on both sides of the end of the women's pull.  They watched with their hats in hand as the girls struggled past them, many of the girls weeping as they toiled, including my own girls.  They watched as many of the first girls to finish turned around and quickly ran back to help other girls bring their handcarts along.  Most of the boys and men had tears in their eyes, as well.  While the "Ma's" and medics tended to the girls after the pull, the men pulled the boys aside and instructed them to never in this lifetime leave the women in their lives to pull the handcart alone, metaphorically speaking.

I wished I could hold all of my girls at once, but I knew that Ashley was the strongest, and Tianna's tears were mostly a reaction to Maddi's tears.  Maddi was the one who was completely undone by the experience.  I held her while she wept and Brother Smith (the medic) and I both kept a close eye on her for the rest of the afternoon.  Still, I did manage to get hugs in for all the girls.  I just worry that Ashley might have felt less love.  Not so!  I just knew she was my rock solid daughter and that Maddi's condition was worse.  She was literally shaking uncontrollably.

Now, you might think us a heartless group of child abusers for putting the girls through such a thing.  Here is some food for thought: I know what it is to overcome a physical challenge.  To subject myself to my own will and accomplish a truly difficult task.  You know about it if your read my account of running a marathon.  And now, those girls know it, too.  They have experienced a true mind over matter moment that will benefit them for the rest of their lives.  It is also important to note that this was not sprung upon them, unawares.  They were fully briefed in advance and no one was forced to participate.  It was actually a very moving and spiritual experience for everyone involved and all the girls were very proud for having accomplished it.  The boys were very respectful and impressed.

The River Crossing

After singing several hymns (giving the girls some time to recover), the boys and men took over the handcarts.  Not a single girl was allowed to pull the handcarts for the rest of the day.  The boys wouldn't dream of it.

On October 19, 1856, the first winter storm rolled across the Willie and Martin handcart companies.  The Martin handcart company was unfortunate enough to have to cross the North Platte river right when the storm was at its worst.  Even worse, in a desperate attempt to lighten their load and reach the valley more quickly, the pioneers had abandoned most of their clothing and blankets only two days prior to the storm.  Soaked and freezing, they found the ground too frozen to drive the stakes in for their tents.  So they crawled under the canvas laying on the ground and tried to stay alive.  Many died that night.

But, help was on the way.  Several weeks previous, an express wagon had passed the handcart companies on the plains and brought word of their existence and their dire need to Brigham Young, the Mormon prophet and leader, in the Salt Lake valley.  Upon learning of the situation, Brigham Young immediately ordered rescue parties to set out that very day.  Women stripped off their petticoats, shoes and stockings, and gathered blankets to send.  Provisions were loaded on relief wagons, despite the settlement being on short rations due to a bad growing season.  A rescue was on its way.

After finding the handcart pioneers in truly desperate condition, and tending to them as best they could, the rescuers still had to bring the emaciated and terribly weakened saints the rest of the way without becoming victims of the elements themselves.  When they reached the final river crossing, the Sweetwater River, many of the handcart pioneers sat down in the snow and wept in despair.

Five young men from the rescue party, ranging in age from 17 to 25, stepped forward and carried the weakest of the handcart pioneers through the river, each crossing the ice choked river as much as 50 times in their efforts to save the saints.

The final challenge of our handcart trek was a river crossing.  The boys were instructed to pull the handcarts through by themselves (no men helping), park them, then come back across and carry each and every one of the sisters across the river.  This being a desert, and rivers being somewhat scarse, the river was a manufactured body of water.  Still, the challenge of carrying over 60 girls and women across was real enough.

Bill carried me across.  The grown men were only allowed to carry their wives.  The young men had to do the rest.  We were towards the front of the handcart train, so my "sons" had more than their share of duty in carrying girls across.  I imagine they woke up this morning with very sore muscles.


And then, it was over!  After the river crossing, we were just yards from the lodge.  We parked the carts, met with our bishops to have a closing devotional, then unloaded the carts, power washed them, put all our gear into the supply trailers, got family photos taken, and loaded onto the buses to return home.  Over all, we pulled those handcarts a total of approximately 22 miles.



It was three days of hard work, hard weather, sweat, and gross grimy shower-less-ness.  But it was oh so worth it!  It was really the most amazing experience and I am so very glad I got to experience it!

26.2

The race began in Walsburg at 6 am.  In order to be ready at the starting line, Bill and I had to get up at 2:30 am, so he could drive me down to the shuttle buses in Provo.  There were over 2,000 registered entrants for the full marathon, so the organizers said there would be no private drop off at the start of the race (Walsburg is a SMALL town up in the mountains).

2:30 is stupidly early.

I tried to get a full night sleep Thursday night.  Utter fail.  I couldn't fall asleep until after midnight, then Bill's 5 am alarm woke me up completely.  I normally sleep right through it.

So, I tried to get a full night sleep Friday night before the race...

Fail.

I would have had to go to bed at 6 pm to get a full 8 hours.  That's never gonna happen.  So, the goal was 8 pm, but that time shot by as well.  I finally did get in bed at 9 pm...

... then got a phone call at 10 pm and was wide awake for another 30 minutes or more.

Still, 2:30 am arrived.

I did pretty well at eating my breakfast of oatmeal and a banana.  OK, so I only ate half the banana.

I had packed and arranged all my race day gear the night before, so I didn't have to worry about forgetting anything.  I planned to run with a water belt even though there were water/aid stations throughout the course.  I refuel with Shot Blocks and the race only offered Gu gels.  It's important not to change what you do on race day, so the water belt was more to carry my fuel of choice than for the water.  Although it did prove useful to have a little water on me whenever I wanted to rinse the sweat out of my eyes.  I greased myself up with Vaseline to prevent chafing, got dressed, and was ready to leave by 3:00.

Bill dropped me off at the bus loading zone and took off into the mountains for some early morning biking.  I got in line for the bus and met a man named Jason.  We chatted about the race and our families the whole way up to the starting drop off zone.  I tell you what.  That was a LONG bus ride!  I remember a feeling of panic when riding the shuttle for the half marathon.  This was worse.  26 miles is a long way.

The bus dropped us off at 4:30 am alongside a ranch.  The rancher allowed the runners to use his pasture for a staging area.  The whole pasture was full of campfires for the runners to keep warm.

It seemed like most of the people there were running with a friend.  I was alone.  So, I asked to join a group at their campfire.  It turned out that most of that group knew each other and had run several other marathons together.  Still, they were friendly and supportive.  We ended up sitting in that prickly field grass playing campfire games until it was time to turn in our drop bags and line up at the starting line.

Drop bags are used to stuff your warm-up gear and anything else you want to bring to the race.  The organizers chuck them all in a rental truck and haul it down to the finish line for you.  After the race, you can collect your drop bag because it has your bib number attached to it.  Mine had my sweat jacket (for before the race), my flip-flops (for after the race), tissues and other random minor items.

Lining up for a race, you find a race pacer holding a sign with the time you want to try to finish the race in.  The fastest race pacers are to the front of the line.  I headed to the back of the line.  Let's face it.  I know I'm not fast.  My only goal was to actually finish this monster.  Based on my longest training run, I thought I'd be doing really great if I finished in 5 hours, but the reality would probably be closer to 5 1/2 hours.

In the final countdown everyone around me was chatting and getting encouragement from each other and from the race pacer nearest us.  In fact, I was so caught up in listening to the chatter that the race began before I even realized!  The big surge only happens at the front of the column.  At the back, we just started walking calmly forward until we got to the starting arch, then began our run.

I won't give you a blow by blow of every single awesome-beautiful-uplifting-inspiring-challenging-tough-discouraging-painful-agonizing mile.  Instead, here are some highlights...


The early part of the race was cool because we were high in the mountains and the sun wasn't up, yet.  The mid part of the race was cool because we were still in the canyon and the cliffs formed huge shadows that keep a near perpetual pre-sunrise chill in the air.  The last part of the race was HOT because we were out of the canyon, running in the full blaze of the summer sun in the middle of the city.

Oh, the scenery was beautiful!  I live here and I know the canyon very well.  Still, running through it gives so much more time to soak in the views than driving it.  Rolling hills, red barns, white rail fences, shimmering water in the river and the reservoir, green pine forests, rugged cliffs, waterfalls, and wildflowers.

For a downhill course, there sure were plenty of uphills.  I knew I couldn't run the entire course non-stop, so I decided to walk the uphills.  That way I could use the momentum of the downhill running to try to improve on my training time.  That seemed to work well.  When an uphill section drew near, I picked a spot on the hill where I would give myself permission to slow to a walk.  Then, as I neared the crest, I chose another spot there I had to start running again.

Once, while I was walking an uphill, another participant joined me.  I couldn't tell her age.  She might have been my age; she might have been younger.  Her hair was bleached white and her skin was very dark.  She looked too trim and fit to be with us slower runners, but at the same time, she looked like she had lived life hard and fast... if that makes any sense.  We chatted for a while and she told me all about the person she was supposed to be running with in the race.  He was her boyfriend and chose to run with her despite not being a runner himself.  He used to be clean and sober, but had recently fallen off the bandwagon and was drinking and smoking weed again.  He had fallen behind and she was worried about him.  She was walking in the hopes that he would catch up to her.

Then she told me that he hits her, sometimes.

Holy $*#@!

I had listened to her tale about her boyfriend and held my tongue, despite thinking he was pathetic, but I couldn't remain quiet any longer.  I told her emphatically that she needed to leave him!  I advised her to turn him in to the authorities.  I told her she deserved better and that NO ONE had the right to hit her!  I asked her if she had family near by (she is living with her parents).  We were well on the downhill side and my "run" marker had come and gone, but I kept walking and talking with her.

In the end, I had to leave her.  I couldn't walk the whole race.  I wished her well and continued on my way.  I don't remember her name, and I will probably never see her again, but I hope she finds the courage to get him out of her life!

Other runners came and went on my radar.  Only a few others stand out, for me.

One such runner was named John.  He and I had been leap frogging for most of the lower canyon.  We walked together for a little while at the base of the canyon.  He was an older gentleman with a handlebar mustache.  This was his 300th marathon.

300th!!!

He started running them in the 80's.  He was so friendly.  He complimented me on my "power walk" (I wouldn't let my walking speed drop below 4 1/2 mph) and advised me to cut from corner to corner of the road on turns to make sure I wasn't adding mileage to the race.  I told him my hope to finish at around 5hr 15min and he said that while it'd be tough, he believed I could make it.  He pulled away as we entered the city.  I could see him turning to look back and check on me every once and a while.  But he had some amazing reserves of speed in him that weren't in me, so I watched him go and kept on going at the best pace I could manage...

...because by then I was in pain.

Oh!  The first half of the race was SO BEAUTIFUL!  I really enjoyed the first 15 miles.  In fact, it wasn't until around mile 18 that I started to hurt.  Mile 21 is when it truly got tough.  By then I was in new territory.  I had never pushed myself that far, before.  By mile 23, I was in agony.  My knees hurt, but it was my feet that were causing my distress.  They were on FIRE!  Every step was piercing.  It felt like I was ripping the soles off my feet.  At one point, my mind was entirely filled with the pain in my feet until I finally had to tell myself, "yes, there is pain.  It is not going away.  Accept it, put it out of your mind, and keep going."

The last 3 miles felt like they lasted forever.  My body wanted to quit, but my mind was locked and rock solid.  I was gonna finish this thing.  Only 3 measly miles stood between me and my goal.  There were water stations at every mile marker for those last 3 miles, so I drank a Powerade, drank a water, and doused myself with a water each time and forced myself to keep moving forward.

I don't think I can put into words the feeling when I saw the finish line in the distance.  Overwhelming  emotions!  Knowing it was almost over, if I could just hold out a little bit longer!  I had sent Bill texts at 13.1 miles, 10 miles, 5, 3, 2, and 1 mile.  I forced myself to run the last half mile non-stop.  I wanted to finish strong.

Mom, Dad, and Paul (my brother-in-law) were waiting to cheer me at the 26 mile marker.  Bill and Will were at the finish line.  I found out later that my visiting teaching partner, Leanna, came down and watched me finish without telling me she was going to do so!  She is so awesome!

Yes, I choked up as I crossed the line.

Bill and Will came to find me right away.  Bill had made up an entire lunch cooler full of post race awesomeness!  He made a bottle of chocolate milk mixed just the way I like it.  He had a couple of frozen bottles of water that he used as a roller massage on my legs and to ice my knees.  There was a protein shake and a couple of Cokes.  He and Will ended up drinking the Cokes, though.  I didn't want them.  Will went and got my drop bag for me so I could strip off the shoes and socks and put my flip-flops on.

Mom, Dad, and Paul found me and we all sat on the City Hall steps as Bill massaged my legs.  You are supposed to walk off the race, not sit down and, yes, I did walk around all afternoon, but I'll save that story for another post.

My official time was 5 hours, 19 minutes, 10 seconds.  That is just crazy!  Who would want to spend that much time running?!  Me, apparently.

After saying good-bye to Mom, Dad, and Paul, we headed to the car.  Bill had parked it on the second level of a parking structure, so Will and I waited in the shade while Bill brought it down.  There was no way I wanted to walk up to it.  While we waited, my campfire buddies came walking up!  And... John was with them!  They all recognized me and we high-fived (and John gave me a hug) as they congratulated me on completing my first marathon.  One of them pointed out to me that there was a blister on the side of my foot.  I hadn't even noticed it.  The pain in the soles of my feet had completely masked it.


So, here we are... A day later.  Delayed onset muscle soreness (DOMS) has set in with a vengeance.  I feel like someone has beaten me with a baseball bat.  Everything from my chest down just HURTS!  I can barely stand.  Besides the blister, I also have 4 toenails (two on each foot) that look like they are going to die and fall off.

But, I am so very happy!  I conquered myself and completed this huge goal.  Now I plan to enjoy my summer just doing whatever workout strikes my fancy.  Running will return to its rightful place as only one of many things I like to do, instead of consuming all my workouts.

Thanks to everyone who has supported my in this crazy journey to marathon!  It means a lot to me.

Will I ever do it again?






I think so!

27

That is Will's score on his first try at the ACT.

I think it is pretty fantastic!  He out-scored both his Dad and his sister, and this was just his first try, going in cold turkey.  Most kids naturally improve their score by about 2-3 points on their second try just by being more familiar with the testing procedure.  He probably beat me, too, but since I never took the ACT, I guess we'll never know.

That's right.  I never took the ACT.

I took the SAT.  I'm sure the scores are floating around the scrapbook pile somewhere.

Will plans to take the ACT again in the fall and hopes to get a 30.

It is gratifying to see test scores that verify what I've known all along...

Will is one smart kid!  He has the high intelligence and IQ that will allow him to be whatever he choses to become in life.  Not everyone is so blessed.

He actually does not do well in school.  His grades are average, or even below average.  There will be no scholarships waiting for him upon graduation.  He simply does poorly in a traditional academic setting.  It doesn't have to be that way.  He could succeed if he put his mind to it and decided it was something he wants.  That is frustrating to me.  He has no desire for academic achievement.  He puts up with school for my sake.  I want him to go to college, but I have a hard time visualizing him as successful in traditional college classes based on his high school performance.  Still, I hope he does go, and I know he can be successful at it... if he has the right frame of mind about it.

Last year his math teacher tried to limit our registration choice to College Prep Math (instead of Pre-Calculus) due to his grades.  I had to go in and see the counselor about it.  His counselor took one look at his test scores (not the ACT, but the state core tests) and agreed with me... that Will needed to be in Pre-Calculus.  The counselor was able to bypass the math teacher's meddling and unlock the registration for us.  Will's grades in Pre-Calculus are not great, but he definitely has learned a lot in that class this year.

So have I.  I have done all of Will's homework side by side with him this year.  You see, I never took Pre-Calculus, or Calculus.  I got sidetracked into a College Prep style math course in high school, myself.  In fact, while in college, I took TWO YEARS of college French in order to avoid one class of advanced mathematics.  Stupid, huh?  There I was, conjugating verbs, reading French literature, and writing essays in French (oh, the agony) for two freaking years just to avoid learning one semester of what turns out to be really awesome math stuff!  Yeah, I'm a special kind of stupid.

Anyways, this turned into quite a ramble of a post.  I'm proud of you, Will.  You are one smart cookie!

Over the Limit

I am still training for the marathon.  It is less than a month away.

Several weeks ago, I ran 16.5 miles and my knees REALLY did not like it!  I ended up walking the majority of the last two miles and I was very frustrated.  The following weekend, I decided to cut my long run down to 10 miles, just to give my knees a bit of a break.  That was working out great, until I pulled something in my lower left leg about 1.6 miles from the end of the run.  Gah.  I limped along, calling each family member in turn, to see if anyone was close enough to home to come and pick me up.  No one was even remotely close.  So, I limped on home for 1.6 miles.  I iced it all day, but it still took about a week before I was able to "run" again.  Now I am back to running, but I seem to have lost all ambition.  I should be running 20 miles by now (in my training schedule), but I don't seem to have the motivation to do more than 7 or 8 miles at a time.  :~/

Ah well.  I still plan to "run" the marathon in a few weeks.  My time on it will probably be terrible, but at least I'll be able to check it off the bucket list and go back to the kinds of workouts I enjoy doing!

I do enjoy running... for about an hour or less.  After that it just becomes WORK.  I'm not a marathoner, after all.  I need to stick to the 10K to Half Marathon distance.

I also enjoy riding my bike... when it isn't a race.

I can't wait to get back to swimming, too!  I've spent all this spring focused almost exclusively on running, with only one cross training workout per week.  I can't wait to just go back to swim/bike/run/kayak/weights... and doing them whenever I want!

But all of that isn't really what I wanted to talk about today.

Despite all my exercising, I haven't lost ANY weight.

I know it shouldn't matter.  My heart is healthy.  My body is healthy.  That is what should matter.

But I want a flat tummy.  I want the flab and fat gone.  Bottom line.

So, I have decided that I simply have to gain control of some kind over my diet.

Did you know that I gave up soda last November?  Okay, I admit, I drank one in Hawaii.  But I discovered that it tasted terrible!  Woah.  I used to LOVE the taste of Dr. Pepper!  Now it just tastes like bitter chemicals to me.  HURRAY!  I am actually really glad for that "cheat" soda, because before I drank it, I struggled with my willpower every time we ate out, because I was remembering that wonderful taste.  Now, it is super easy to go for a non-soda beverage, because I know soda won't taste good.

I thought giving up soda would be the magic bullet for weight loss.  People are always saying, "I gave up soda and dropped 20 lbs!"  Yeah, not me.

So.  It is time for a new challenge.  I feel like I have won the soda fight, and it is time for a new battle.

I am going to track my sugars.

That's it.  No calorie counting.  No worrying about ratios of proteins and carbs.  Just count those stinkin' sugars.

So far today I am up to 57 grams.  That is just breakfast (oatmeal w/butter, 1 tsp. of sugar, and cinnamon &  a glass of milk) and lunch (frozen burritos w/sour cream & salsa & a glass of milk).

How many sugar grams am I supposed to have in a day?

50-60 grams.

Well, sha-poopie.

I'm already at the limit at 3:00 in the afternoon.  That's without any treats, too.  Dinner will take me over.

This is gonna be a hard fight.

I can tell immediately that I'm gonna have to curb my milk addiction.  Milk has 12 grams per cup.  So, I'm gonna have to cut my portions in half, I think.

I'll let you know how it's going in a month or two.

Hawaii

Okay.  Here I go at trying to do the promised updates.

First, Hawaii.

No, I will not load this post up with pictures.  Sorry.  If you were hoping for that, the pictures are on Facebook.  I've been frustrated at the fact that blogger has a limited capacity for pictures and every time I load a new one, it deletes an old one.  If you click on an old post of mine, you will see where the photos have been replaced with a black rectangle with a gray dash in it.  Thanks, Blogger, for destroying my blog.  I would have switched to a different platform by now... but let's face it, I'm struggling to find the time to blog, let alone transfer to a new site.

Anyways, back to Hawaii.

Bill and I flew out on the Monday after Easter.  It was Spring Break for Will and me.  That was critical to the timing.  Technically, our 20th anniversary has yet to happen (it's on May 8th... tomorrow!!), but there was no way I was going to take off during school and hope that Will would actually get himself to school for a week.  So, we went during a school holiday.  I felt horribly guilty about leaving the kids.  I wanted to take them with us, but there was no way we could afford to.  As it was, we stretched our resources to the limit just so we could go.  Besides, taking the kids along is a real anniversary kill-joy.  So, despite the guilt, we left the kids at home to fend for themselves.

That got some raised eyebrows from some of my coworkers and friends.  They thought I was nuts leaving two teens at home alone for a week.  But, hey, they are 19 and 16 (nearly 17).  They don't need a babysitter.  I was fairly confident they could handle themselves while I was gone.  And I was right.

This was the first time I have flown since prior to 9/11/01.  I know.  It really has been that long.  I have sent my kids off on adventures, but I have always traveled by car.  It's not that I was afraid to fly, but I don't have to travel for work, and it's just too darned expensive to fly for fun!  So, this was my first personal experience with the TSA security circus.

Flying has changed, but I thought the screening process was pretty non-intrusive and quick.  Maybe because I wasn't singled out?  Anyways, we were through security pretty fast and sitting down to a meal in the airport while waiting for our flight.  It was cheaper to eat in the airport than pay for a meal mid flight.  Oh, I will say this about security... on our flight home I packed a water bottle filled with sand into my carry on, not thinking anything of it.  It tripped security measures.  They had to pull it out, inspect it, pour some out onto litmus papers and test it with chemicals to make sure it wasn't, you know, bomb stuff, then send my carry on through the scanner again without the bottle... oi.  In the end, they gave it all back to me with a smile and wishes for a safe journey.  The whole thing was very friendly.  I'm sure they've had to test plenty of bottles of sand.  {rolling my eyes}

I spent the flight to Hawaii watching movies on the screen in the seat back in front of me.  Nice!  When we got to Hawaii, there was a glitch getting to the car rental place, due to poor communications.  But, we finally go there and picked up our RED Mustang convertible!  Bill hated it, but I enjoyed it very much!  Except I think the steering wheel gets in the way of seeing the speedometer.

Well, I'm not going to really give you a blow by blow of the entire week.  You'd fall asleep, and who really wants to read all about someone else's vacation?

I'll just say that it was sunny and wonderful and fun beyond all reason!  Life is lived at a much slower pace there.  We spent every waking moment outside, and even kept the sliding glass door of our room wide open all night long to enjoy the breezes and sounds of the surf.  We surfed and snorkeled, hiked, biked, ran, and sunbathed.  We did the traditional tourist stuff; Pearl Harbor, Hanauma Bay, Valley of Temples, and the Polynesian Cultural Center.  But we also did normal people stuff like grocery shopping for half our meals and jogging the local workout trails.  We were even given the locals discout (Kama aina discount)  once by a friendly server at an off-the-beaten-track hole-in-the-wall Jack In The Box.

Maybe it is because we just went through all the fuss of security at the airport, but I did notice the complete LACK of security at the resort.  We stayed at Turtle Bay Resort on the North Shore.  The lobby was open air and there were no locks to the stairwells or elevators.  However, despite that, I never felt it was a problem.  Turtle Bay Resort is on the North Shore of Oahu.  It is a rural setting.  So peaceful!  It really was the perfect place to get away and unwind.  I'd go back in a heartbeat.

The only black spot on our whole vacation happened only hours before we left the island.  We had checked out of the resort and finished touring the Byodo-In temple (the Buddhist temple in the Valley of Temples), but we still had a couple of hours to kill before heading to the airport.  Since there was a movie theater across the street from where we were, we decided to take in a show.  We were practically the only people in the theater, since it was a mid-day weekday showing.  When we came out of the theater, we discovered that someone has hit our rental car and drove away!  AURGH!  We called the police, the rental agency, and my insurance.  Everyone was very kind about it and even that stressful event didn't ruin my vacation.

Now we're home and I'm wishing I could live in Hawaii.  But, at least I only have a few weeks left before summer vacation begins here at home and I can fill my days with fun in the sun, homestyle!

Too Much to Write About...

OK.  So I know I have neglected this thing something fierce.  I apologize.  There is lots to tell you, and I'm not going to be able to do everything justice in one post.  I think that's part of the problem.  If I don't get things recorded right away, they start stockpiling in my mind and it gets overwhelming thinking of all the things I need to write about.  I really haven't forgotten about writing, you see.  I am constantly composing posts in my head.  Unfortunately, most of those posts never happen because I am not in a position to actually write them in the moment.  So what you read on the blog is only a fraction of what gets composed in my head.  Then, if it piles up in my head, you don't get to read any of it because I get shut down by thinking of how much catching up I have to do.  And, the "catch up" posts are never as vivid and detail rich as the original composition in my head.  So, again, sorry about that!

What have you missed?

• Bill and I traveled to Oahu for a week to celebrate our 20th anniversary.  Lots of stories to tell you.  Awesome pictures will be posted to Facebook at some point... probably.

• As soon as we got back, Helena moved out and is now living with her best friend in a basement apartment two towns over.  I am super sad she is no longer my little girl and I miss her something fierce!

• On the same weekend Helena moved out, one of Will's classmates (and friend) committed suicide.  I did not know the boy, but man!  It made me so sad for his family and worried about my own son and his mental health.  I am exhausted from the roller coaster of emotions between joy on my anniversary trip, and grief the following week for the senseless loss of this young man.

• Will took the ACT for the first time back in March and got a FANTASTIC score!  We're super proud of his brains.

• We refinanced the house to a 10 year term with a rockstar interest rate.  It will save us tens of thousands of dollars without changing our monthly payment!  Yeah, baby!

• I am still training for the marathon, though it is painful and difficult.  Today's run was 16.5 miles.  I doubt I will ever do another marathon after crossing this one off my bucket list.  I am even considering removing the full Ironman from the bucket list simply because 26.2 miles of running is super hard on my knees.

• Will is off on another National Guard drill weekend.  He still plans to enlist on his 17th birthday.  I can feel how very little time I have left with him before he, too, moves out.  With Helena and Will both gone, the house feels WAY too quiet and empty.  I find myself wandering into their rooms and just standing there, feeling sad.

Each one of these things deserves its own post.  I will try to work my way through them tomorrow.  That should be a good Sunday activity, right?

Running

I ran 6.6 miles, today.  That is 10% more distance that last Saturday.

Yup.  Marathon training has begun.

For the past several months, I have been doing what I guess could be called "maintenance" exercising.  Just trying to maintain a base level of fitness.  I have tried to exercise 4 or 5 days a week, mixing it up with running, cycling class, swimming, and some weights.  I have done this because I knew I'd be facing a tough marathon training regime starting in mid February.

And, here we are.

To train for a marathon, I have to build up the endurance to be able to keep my body moving for miles upon miles.  It is not something than can be done cold turkey.  Not without damaging your body.  The pounding of 26.2 miles can only be endured with a body that has been slowly toughened up for it.  At least, I hope it can be endured!  I have to tell you, this race scares me more than anything I have yet done.  Not even the half ironman scared me the way this running distance does.

So, every Saturday workout now becomes my "long run".  I have deleted the pool from my Saturday lineup (I'm sad about that) so that I can focus exclusively on piling the miles on.  Every Saturday will be a 10% increase from the previous week.  That is just a small enough increase each week to prevent injury (I hope).  Meanwhile, my weekday workouts will slowly build, too.

Actually, most of my weekday workouts will remain exactly the same.  But within a few weeks, my Wednesday run will start to build mileage, too.  It will stay at approximately 1/2 the distance of the Saturday long run.  So, when Saturday's run hits 10 miles, Wednesday's run will be 5 miles.  The rest of my week will stay the same.  Mondays are 30 minutes of sprints and 1 hour of pool.  Tuesdays are 1 hour cycle class and 30 min. arm weights.  Wednesday was 1 hour cycle class and 30 minute run, but that will change, now.  And Thursday is 60 minute intervals run.  Friday and Sunday are my rest days.

I can only hope that the weather decides to cooperate and bring an early spring so I'm not stuck running 10+ miles around and around the indoor track in a mind-numbingly endless loop.

Here's a cute track story for you...

This morning as I was running my miles on the track, there was a family also exercising on the track.  Their little boy looked to be about 4 years old.  I was the only endurance runner on the track, and he noticed me running past.  At one point, he was sitting with his big sister on the bench when he saw me approach.  He quickly jumped up and started racing me!  I matched his pace and he made it nearly one full lap of the track before he had to fall out of the race.  I gave him a big cheeky grin and a high five for racing me.  That did it!  He sat in wait for me and "raced" me at least 5 more times, each time getting a high five.  His momma and his grandmama both got a big kick out of it.  So did I!

Anything that can go wrong...

You know the saying.

This is a grump-fest post.  Please don't feel like you need to cheer me up or anything.  Sometimes I just need to write down some of the stuff banging around in my head to make it stop bothering me.  Believe me, once I finish this post, I will feel lots better and I'll be able to move on cheerfully.  First, though, a rant.

Why is it that bad stuff all happens a once?  I mean, really?!

• You already know my new car is in the body shop getting plastic surgery after an unfortunate incident that messed up its tail end.  Still not back.
• You also already know I hate my weenie-mobile rental car.  Now more than ever for reasons about to be revealed.
• Monday, Will drove to school and accidentally left the parking lights on in the Expedition, which killed the battery.  Dead as a doornail (what a weird phrase!).  Do you know how long it takes to use a weenie-mobile battery to jump start a big beastly Expedition battery?  A little over 40 minutes.  Since we were in the mostly empty school parking lot... no sweat.
• This morning, while Will was driving to school, the Expedition suddenly lost power everything (steering and electrics), then died on him when he managed to get it pulled mostly onto the side of the road.  He was blocking the right turn lane, but at least he was out of the middle of the road, right?
• Automotive gymnastics was not on my to-do list today, but I still managed to get the weenie-mobile nose to nose with the Expedition despite all the other drivers on the road looking at me like I'd lost my mind.  Oh, and to get the full visual, be sure to put me in pajamas!
• Trying to jump start an elephant like the Expedition with a mouse like the weenie-mobile in the middle of traffic during morning rush hour?  Not on my list of fun activities for the day.  It didn't work, of course, because we didn't have 40 minutes to sit around and wait for a big enough charge to build up.
• Don't you think tow companies are in the business of coming to the rescue of stranded motorists?  If you thought so, you'd be as wrong as I was.  I was told by two different companies that they "didn't have time to come out to tow my car".
• I can feel more expenses coming on with these new car troubles.
• Helena's phone is on the blink (it only works sporadically at this point), so she missed the text from her boss telling her that the shifts had been changed and why wasn't she at work today?  
• Helena also managed to fall on the stairs today while home alone and is now sporting wicked scabs and bruises all over her legs and feet. (I am truly glad it wasn't worse!  What if she'd broken a leg while all alone at home!  Poor girl.)
• Will's friend, Dallan, actually DID break his leg yesterday.  He'll require surgery that sidelines him for the entire skiing season.  Poor boy!  Dallan is Will's best skiing buddy, so I know Will's bummed, too.
• Will has been given an "Unexcused Absence" by his English teacher for leaving class early.  That freezes his grade until he goes to Attendance School TWICE.  An unexcused absence is considered a sluff and carries double penalty.  Each attendance school session costs $5.
• I've had a dead toe nail ever since the half Ironman back in August.  Could it just fall off already?!?
• And to top it all of?  I HAVE A STUPID COLD SORE!  Gah!  

See.  I feel better already.

PS:  I do need to say this...

As Will and I were stuck on the side of the road, desperately trying to figure out how to get out of the way of traffic and get the dumb Expedition back home, Liz M (Bill's niece) happened to drive by in her (nicer, newer, better-er) Expedition and asked if we needed a tow!

!!!!

Hooray for Liz!!!!

I sent Will home in the rental while I rode in our Expedition as Liz towed it back home.  She was my life saver this morning and completely turned a disastrous situation around!!!  (Note to self:  I was very impressed that Liz just happened to have a tow rope in her car.  I should get one and put it in my car, just in case...... whenever I get my car back, that is)

PPS:  I also need to say this...

When Bill got home from work this evening, he used his gargantuan work truck to jump start the Expedition and then left them hooked up charging the battery for a couple of hours.  That should keep the Expedition running until Saturday, when he can take it in to have the battery and alternator checked.

PPPS:  Really, I'm just about done...

Can you tell that some of my rants are just silly?  Those are my way of humorizing my life.  If you can't laugh at yourself, life is pretty grim.