A Run with a Friend.

The day before yesterday, I ran with a friend.
We kept a good pace. We talked the whole time.
We ran on grass, we ran on pavement.
We ran past the body of a small bird.

We talked about people, places, and things.
We talked about our pace,
We talked about our route,
We spoke of God and Faith.

There were lots of trees,
More than a few cars passed us by,
The people in one yelled something out the window.
We couldn't hear them.
We were too busy, conquering and talking.

We both had on headphones,
But I know that I didn't use mine.
She sweats less than I do and
I think she runs with more grace,
But she still wants to run with me.

We finished our run
and we realized
we had gone farther than we thought.
We beat the roads and the trails and the cars.
We beat our goals.
I'm very lucky to have run with a friend.

Regarding the Ownership of Lefty and Righty.

There are very few things in this world that are all mine. I have to share pretty much everything, and that is even more true now that I am a mom. Nothing is my own, everything is ours. I spent a long time thoroughly convinced that my breasts were my own. They are, after all, attached to my body. Three and a half years ago, when Archer was born, I found out that I was wrong.

My breasts belonged to him for twenty six months. He pulled them, pushed them, pinched them, laid on them, held them, snuggled them, and made basically every decision regarding my breasts. He decided if and when they should be whipped out in public for a feeding. He decided the duration of their exposure. The only thing he didn't decide was to name them Lefty and Righty, but that's only because he didn't know how to talk. There is nothing in the world that Archer loved as much as he loved Lefty and Righty. For twenty six long months, he knew that he could count on them to help him out if he was hungry, thirsty, tired, hurt, sick, crabby, or just plain lonely.

Then, as he got older, he fell in love with our dog and began to make friends who were people, rather than breasts. He started seeing less and less of Lefty and Righty. Eventually, he decided to forfeit ownership completely. I was thrilled. After twenty six beautiful months of breastfeeding, I was ecstatic to have my body to myself again. I figured that I would really enjoy actually owning myself for a little while. Imagine my surprise when a mere two weeks after Archer fully weaned, two little pink lines populated a screen in my bathroom.


Once again, I had to forfeit ownership of myself. I knew by then, that I would not regain my body after forty weeks, sure I would have my uterus back, but Lefty and Righty would not be returned to me until the new little fetus decided that he or she was done with them. I also knew that Lefty and Righty were a little bit concerned about being used and then discarded. They hadn't weathered the storm too well the last time. But, they were also excited to have a new little friend that they could count on.

Forty-one weeks later, along came Olwyn. My brown eyed baby boy immediately loved his new friends. He's been with us for six months and he has spent the vast majority of his time building a relationship with Lefty and Righty. He is not even remotely shy about asserting his ownership of his favorite duo. He pinches, pulls, hugs, loves, and cares about his boobies. They are 100% his, and he always likes to be within range of them in case he needs a snack. Lefty and Righty bring him comfort when disaster strikes (getting stepped on by a two legged or four legged sibling is the most common calamity) and they fill his belly morning, noon, and night. He knows that he can always count on the contents to be both nourishing and refreshing.

As for me, I have surrendered. I know that Lefty and Righty were never truly meant to be mine. They were always destined for greater things than a casual relationship with the woman whose chest they call home. If I love Lefty and Righty, I will let them achieve their destiny. They're in their prime now, livin' the dream.

Bittersweet.

Last year on July 24Th, it was the first time I ever intentionally planned and did something fun on that day. It was the six year anniversary of the death of a very dear friend of mine. It was the anniversary of the deaths of two other friends as well. It was always a bitter day for me because I have never fully recovered from that loss and I still miss my friend every day. However, after six years I decided it was time that I start to heal. I went and saw Amos Lee on that day, because he is my favorite musical artist and I couldn't pass up the concert. It was wonderfully healing, sitting there in the grass on a beautiful day, with a good friend, hearing his wonderful music.

Then, we drove home and when we arrived I found out that another old friend had passed away that day. I had not been close with this friend in years, but I was still heartbroken. It was someone whose hugs and smiles I could always count on. My healing day had been interrupted by another loss. My heart has ached for the last year because I have yet to go home and pay my respects to this friend.

On January 24, 2011 I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy named Olwyn. Ever since the moment I lifted him up out of the water (which was in a pool, in my living room, and was totally rad), I have been absolutely smitten with him. He's the happiest baby I have ever met. However, I immediately connected the dates and realized that his half birthday was going to fall on a day that I consider cursed. Nothing good has ever happened to me on July 24Th. I'm not the world's most superstitious person, but I was freaking out. I still sort of am.

Yesterday came and went. I mourned my friends. I prayed for them. I looked up at the sky and told them that I loved them. I also celebrated my baby. My sweet, perfect boy was six month old yesterday. He woke up six months and one day old this morning. Yesterday was sunny and yesterday was a good day. It almost fills like the hole in my heart where my friend was is growing smaller. The memories of her are growing sweeter, just like my son. It was so bittersweet to realize that maybe, just maybe, my son is God's (and Charlie's) way of giving me something sweet to think of on a day that has always been clouded for me.

Maybe I can start finding peace that has eluded me. I know that Charlie, Vanessa, Sam, and Nathan are at peace. I like to think that they would want all of the living to be as well.

The Journey.

I really don't want to be a diet, weight-loss, and running blogger but here this goes anyways:

I have been on a journey since March 1st. That was the day that I started doing the C25K running program as well as the day that I first tracked my points with Weight Watchers. I started out not being able to run for a minute without wanting to die. Now I am training for and registered to race in a 10K. I am also more than 40 pounds lighter and two sizes smaller than I was on March 1st. I have exceeded my wildest dreams of where I would be in less than six months. I feel overwhelming pride and am experiencing a new level of self-love.

This morning, I set a new weight loss goal. I have been setting small goals this whole time and rewarding myself along the way. Today I am rewarding myself by reaching my current weight by going and getting my hair cut and dyed. When I reach this next goal, I am going to go and buy myself new pants and shirts because the ones I have are hanging off of me and I look ridiculous. When I reach my next goal, however, there will be something more significant than clothing that will make it special. The next goal that I set will be my ultimate weight loss goal.

This is both exciting and scary to me. For one thing, it is an accomplishment that I have looked forward to and dreamt of for three years. For another, I am scared of what I will do when I am NOT trying to lose weight. I know that I will keep running because I love it. But will I decide to lose a little more? Will I be able to maintain it? What will I look like? Will I be able to accept and love my body at my goal weight? Or will I always be unhappy with the way that I look?

This has been a long journey for me. I have had to confront the fact that for a long time I was being dishonest with myself about how committed I was to losing weight. I also have had to really evaluate my relationship with and habits concerning food. I have had to confront my expectations and fantasies regarding my body and place them in context of the reality of what I look like. At times I have felt fantastic and there have been low points, but for the most part I cannot believe how much I have learned about myself. I always thought that weight loss commercials were cheesy when they talked about empowerment and inner strength but I have spent the last 5 months eating my words as I learned firsthand that weight loss requires much more than diet and exercise.

I am just hoping that this isn't the end of my journey.

Inspired.

Lately, I have had a lot of trouble feeling inspired to write. But, I have not had trouble feeling inspired in general. I feel inspired all the time these days. Since writing is the only thing not inspiring me right now. I have decided to compose a short list of things that inspire me and how.

My children inspire me to be a better person. I want them to love me.

My husband inspires me to succeed. I want him to be proud of me.

My dog inspires me to be loving. When I feel misanthropic, I can still snuggle him.

Running inspires me to love me. When I run, I feel pretty.

School inspires me to keep going. I am way over the hump. The finish line is in sight. If I can finish this, I can do anything.

Books inspire me to leave my worries behind. Even the things that are the hardest to set in the back of my mind go away when I am wrapped up in a book.

Breathing when I run inspires my faith in God. It's been a long time since I felt that connection, but when I hear myself breathing when I run, I know there's a God.

My exchange student inspires me to slow down. He is so quiet and has trouble understanding me. I have to slow down for him, and it feels pretty good.

My days inspire me to not waste my nights. It's amazing what living more fully during the day will do for a person's sleep patterns.

My mom inspires me to be a good friend.

My grandma inspires me. Period.

Like.

I like that when I weigh myself, the number is going down.

I like getting dressed every day, because I feel like I look good in my clothes.

I like that my husband lets me sleep in and lay in bed and read if I want to.

I like the company of books, often more than the company of people.

I like my major, history moves me.

I like my kids, they are very cute.

I like the milky smell of my baby, which he won't have much longer.

I like music and I like a wide variety.

I like to run, it clears my mind and makes me feel like I could conquer the world.

I like my mom, she's a heckuva gal.

I like living in Washington for more reasons than I can list.

I like my husband much more than I like anyone else.

I like my dog, he's the best friend God could have given me.

I like my mama cat because she's so sweet.

I like food too much sometimes.

I like beer, but only the good stuff.

I like the interwebz, the interwebz iz entertaining.

I like me.

I like today.

On Weight Loss, Running, and My LIfe.

Sometimes I go months without blogging because I fall into a routine and I'm happy and life is blissfully normal. Generally, as far as my blog goes, no news is good news. This is the case right now. I have not written since the beginning of April because life has been great and I have nothing to report.

I ran in my first 5k race. I ran every step and I finished with a time of 41 minutes and 48 seconds. I was the 98th overall female finisher. I was ecstatic. I am registered for two more races in July and I am looking forward to them immensely. I am planning to find one or two to register for in August and I would like to attempt to run a 10k in September sometime. I just have to find the right event.

I love running. It has become a crucial component in my plan to not be depressed and crazy and it keeps me going. Every time I run, I feel like I have conquered myself. It's amazing. All of the demons and bad thoughts are gone and I am whole. I also have no cares beside the next mile. I don't have to worry about diapers or about vacuuming. Homework is on the back burner. It's just me and the road. Nothing compares to the feeling I get when I run. I wish I had the time to run in the morning and at night too. The best thing about running is that I get the wonderful feeling for free. My treadmill is paid for and it's all mine. My running shoes are paid for and have miles to go. Running doesn't require me to look pretty or smell good. It doesn't even require me to have happy thoughts. I just have to show up and pound the payment. The road is free. When there is nothing else for me to do, not a dime in the bank, and I am tired of life, I can run to be with my thoughts and to clear my head. I really love running. In fact, at this moment I am waiting for my husband to get home so that I can run.

Running has aided in my weight loss process, too. However, I think eating right has been the most crucial factor. I have almost completely had to abandon my love affair with sweets. I had to give up my hobby of baking (in favor of running, which is a healthier hobby). I miss baking and I have to fight with myself almost every day not to gorge on candy and sweets but the fact of the matter is that I love myself more right now than I have in three years. I am nearing the 40 pound mark, which will put me 20 pounds from my goal weight and I actually like looking at myself in the mirror these days. There was a time when I actively avoided mirrors and I would have never willingly let my picture be taken. To some, having twenty pounds to lose might seem like a lot but for me, it is marginal. It means that I have lost the majority of what I want to lose. That is me looking at the glass from a half-full perspective. I am over the hump and I can do it. I am big on proving things to myself and I have proved myself to myself. Now I just have to prove to myself that I won't quit until I cross the finish line. I think that when I reach my goal weight, I will probably ceremoniously break my scale. I think that will be healthy and freeing and awesome. Perhaps I will have a party when I break my scale and allow everyone to help me smash it.

That is all.