Shorter of breath and one day closer to death

The last in my series of posts inspired by Pink Floyd.

Read it over here, my new(ish) WordPress site.

Are you my mother? And who's my daddy?

image: http://blog.schoollibraryjournal.com

It's been a weird weekend...I kind of hit the wall on a number of levels, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say, hit the wall  with numerous body parts.  Truth be told, I probably used my head the most.  I had so many options available to me; concerts, and old friends, and art and strawberries, yet I kind of shrugged it all off.  Unlike many decisions in life, I didn't get that immediate tingling sensation that confirms many of my choices.  I'm thinking maybe I'm a bit numb.  Summer vacation can't come soon enough.

Despite feeling less than great (I'm about to pop my 3rd Aleve in 2 days!) I've maintained my commitment to running 20 miles this week and it has been a struggle.  The music hasn't been quite right, and even if it were perfect, my right glute is screaming louder than any song playing.  Not tremendously fun or satisfying.

On my run Friday, I passed two elder(ly?) women walking.  They were on the opposite side of the street and I was wearing contacts, which don't do all they should to improve my vision.  I was taken aback by one of the women - she looked like my mother.  I think.  The last time I spoke to my mother in person was when she attempted a "scar-off" to prove that her heart surgery was way worse than my cancer surgery could have ever been.  Ok, you win and what have we proven?  That you have a heart and I can cut malignant things from my life and prosper? Fine.

Well, it is a little disconcerting to not be certain whether a person is, or is not, your parent. You'd think this would be a familiar sensation for me, growing up as I did wondering if every single man with a brogue was my father, but it was still weird.  I had a familiar train of thought ride through my head.  What will it be like when she's gone?  Will I stop seeing her everywhere the way I stopped imagining every Irishman to be my father once I knew he was gone?

I'm getting ready to be a stay at home mom for 10 weeks and I plan to slow down, enjoy my boys and try really hard to make sure that they always know who their parents are, two people who love them dearly.

Life's a bitch beach

image: beachfinder.org

Feeling my little guy's body shudder with sleep as he cuddles next to me, I consider something  said to me recently - that I make things look easy.  The manner in which I navigate through life somehow gave the impression that I don't struggle, that I don't sometimes feel the waves threaten to swamp me.  

When I think about my life, I try to remain cognizant of moderation and balance.  With my mind's eye, I see myself juggling.  Constantly.  There are three balls I continually find myself tossing and catching.  The first contains my boys, beloved friends and family.  I need to place them front and center because I love them and want them to be happy.  The second ball is the me ball.  It's about exercising and writing and reading and whatever else I might do to stay healthy and challenged.  The third ball is all about responsibilities; work and home and finances.  These are the things which, while lowest in my personal priorities list, intimidate me the most.  Probably because I don't have control over them. 

I was raised to be responsible.  Whether it was waking up and getting myself ready for school at the ripe old age of 6 or paying my rent from age 20 on, I knew if it was going to happen I had to take care of it myself.  Decades later, I have more responsibilities than ever - 3 boys who seem to look exclusively to me when they need sneakers or other clothing for their quickly growing bodies, a nearly 100 year-old house with an accompanying mortgage. And insurance. And utilities.  A professional career that garners little respect despite an advanced degree and 15 years of experience in the field...

There are days that completely, totally suck.   When I realize I have missed a due date or deadline I can feel my spine tighten and my forehead bead with perspiration.  Obviously, I don't enjoy these sensations and I try to avoid them, but, you know what?  I'm not perfect and, as I frequently explain to my children, I'm doing my best.

Sometimes we forget or romanticize what the beach is really like. It certainly can be scenic and pleasingly comfortable, but we may neglect to remember that it is also kind of messy. You know, everything ends up sticky from sunscreen and sand and sea salt, demanding a thorough rinse off. The drawbacks of the beach might be nearly completely negated by an outdoor shower, preferably starlit, but it would be naive to consider the beach, or one's life, as perfect. Nonetheless, grab your suit and don't forget to bring a towel.

I can see clearly now the rain has gone

image: http://phoenixlasiksurgeon.org

No, literally.  I have new glasses and an intense rain shower just moved furiously through the DelSo. Things look different, both sharpened and softened somehow, and I feel as if I am seeing my surroundings with new eyes. 

These two events got me to thinking about my vision over the years, recalling when I first knew I needed glasses.  I think I was in third or fourth grade and I was struggling a little when I read the chalkboard.  Naturally, my mother said it was because I read too much and that my eyes were fine, an assessment I accepted until 5th grade when the school nurse referred me to an optometrist after  I failed an eye exam. I got glasses. 

In high school I decided I needed contact lenses to be pretty.  I saved my money ($100!) and got myself a pair of lenses despite my aversion to touching my eyes.  I'll never forget the sensation of looking at the streetlights as the sky grew darker, and truly seeing the preciseness of the light emanating from tall street lamps.  It no longer appeared to me as a fuzzy cloud of light, I could see the individual bulb and it was remarkable.  Equally unforgettable was my inability to take my contacts out that first day.  It might have been the beer which caused me to balk at the thought of pinching something off my eyeball, but there's no doubt I'd still be wearing that pair of lenses if my friend Anthony hadn't matter-of- factly plucked them out for me. 

And now, 25+ years later, I'm sporting my first pair of progressive glasses.  You know, the line-less lenses that have distinct areas to look through for distance viewing, reading, and normal vision.  The first few days were a little rough - there was a bit of nausea and a little frustration as I learned to move my head up and down to utilize the area of the glasses necessary for the task at hand.  Two weeks in and I have to say they're working for me.   

What have I learned from my history with vision correction?  Well, I understand that sometimes children know more than their parents.  I know that seeing distant things more clearly doesn't negate our need for friends to sometimes take charge of a situation close at hand. And I'm beginning to grasp that clarity can occasionally be achieved by a mere shift of one's gaze.

Commencement - a beginning or start

So, that's my natural hair color!

The word commencement is an odd one. While it is defined as a beginning or start, it clearly is most often used to describe a ceremony which acknowledges the end of something.  Seems that endings and beginnings can get all sorts of mixed up, huh?

Almost exactly  20 years ago, I received my college diploma. The path I took to that mass commencement ceremony was circuitous and prolonged. Or so it seemed to my-then-25- year-old self.  I remember that the morning was beautiful; a perfect May Day with blue skies and fluffy white clouds. The graduation was my first since my 8th grade commencement in 1980  - they didn't give GEDs with an iota of pomp, regardless of circumstance.

I wished I was feeling a bit more triumphant about my achievement, but I was nursing a broken heart and was just desperate to get the whole thing over with.   My plan had been to avoid the entire day by going to Syracuse for my brother's awe inspiring graduation from medical school, an event which naturally was scheduled for precisely the same day.  One of my best friends, though, had timed a trip to New York from Australia  to witness my achievement (with binoculars in the vast feeling Knickerbocker Arena) and so, there I was in a sea of fellow B.A., English, recipients.

Honestly, the entire thing is a blur now.  I don't recall who was the speaker or what the message conveyed was.  I just remember itching to get out of there.  Now.  I needed to go home, to Greenwood Lake.  I needed to get out of Dodge and see something new.  I needed what was NEXT.  I wanted to commence already, dammit.   I had a sense of freedom similar to possessing a passport and a credit card.  I could go anywhere.  And, unlike my bruised heart, no one was ever going to take that away from me.

The following month, my brother and I traveled to Europe for 3 weeks of debauchery family visits and sightseeing. We hitchhiked, staying with family, friends and in hostels, both of us smart enough to recognize that this opportunity to travel together would probably not present itself ever again. I returned to Albany with an increased awareness of where my family was from, and a pocketful of fresh memories to cherish as I began the next chapter in my life. 

In the two decades since graduation, there have been other heartbreaks survived, additional diplomas bestowed and numerous European adventures.  And, of course, countless endings and beginnings. I've come to learn that, unlike my sheepskin, some things just aren't meant to last forever.  Some courses are finite, pass or fail.

Very nice, funny and huggable

image: www.prlog.org

At least that's how my youngest described me in this year's utterly precious Mother's Day card.  Yep, it's a keeper.  This was my 16th Mother's Day and it contained both poignant and annoying moments. Kind of like motherhood,  in general,  I guess.

Quinn gave me a marigold, Griffin gave me a song and dance about the present I was going to receive at some undetermined point in the future, Liam gave me hope that he will one day shave that caterpillar of fuzz from above his top lip and they all gave me a hard time about walking the slightly over a mile distance to the Capital City Gastropub, our chosen brunch spot.  Just another day in paradise, right?

The death march walk on a beautiful late spring day was filled with conversations and complaints, probably in nearly equal measure.  I don't really remember Mother's Day 2011, my first as a separated parent, but I believe that this year was my first public Mother's Day as an unattached mom.  And it was a little weird.

The boys and I sat on the Gastropub's sunny front patio seated next to another unaccompanied by a partner Mom and thoroughly enjoyed our bountiful brunch.  I felt proud of my children for their appetites and their manners, Quinn's requests for a beer, aside.   When it was time to walk home, the older boys went ahead of Quinn and me, moving at a different pace than a 7 year-old with comparatively short legs and a 45 year-old with a belly full of smoked salmon and eggs.  As we approached Albany Academy, I suggested that Quinn hand his glasses over to me and take a tumble down the grassy hill, an idea that he enthusiastically embraced.  After his third spin, he staggered to his feet and remarked that he would have missed the opportunity to have that fun experience had we driven rather than walked.  

Very nice, funny, huggable and, dare I say, sometimes able to teach my boys that taking a walk and roll or two down a hill is a much more enjoyable way to travel through life than merely being a passenger. Hugs for everyone.

Light(en) up

image: edia.treehugger.com

After a day booked so full of errands and chores that the only thing I didn't schedule was time to breath, I took a long run tonight.  There were moments when I knew I needed to take a break and walk, but I didn't.  The route I took was  a new one to me and I mentally dubbed it the "big girl route."

The run was the perfect, late spring evening run - absolutely sublime.  There were only good smells, and the moisture in the air which felt like dampness this morning, now only added to my glisten.  My mind let go and provided a good example to my muscles which released as the miles ticked off.  I began considering all the meanings of the word "light" and realized that I had been using it pretty exclusively as a measurement of illumination.  But, didn't it describe so many other actions?

I ran past gatherings of people on porches and decks and stoops.  One group of second floor porch dwellers taunted their buddy in his convertible to "Light 'em up!!" I hadn't heard that particular phrase in so long that it caused me to remember another phrase of the same era - "Light up." I smiled a bit broader. 

I approached a corner and continued straight instead of making my usual left turn.  I was unfamiliar with the traffic light I now faced - new territory, more exhilarating than scary.  I saw a beautiful grassy lawn behind a romantic brick wall and the most meticulously maintained home I had never noticed.  

I continued and thought about how important it is to lighten up sometimes.  Stop carrying that which weighs us down.  Or maybe share the burden with someone.  Consciously release to something new.  

You remember the steps - Stomp hard on the gas.   
                                          Inhale deeply.        
                                          Let go.                                                    

May Day

image: http://s3-media4.ak.yelpcdn.com

In Germany, where my mother comes from, May 1st is a holiday.  There are flowers and Maypole dancing and tree planting ceremonies on this day which celebrates spring's midway point. It is a sweet, sweet day, reminiscent of a more simple time. My mother, the third of fifteen children, never really celebrated her own birth on this special day, nor really on any other day. For her, May Day was just another day to be disappointed by life.

My second child was due on May 1st, 1999, his soon-to-be-Oma's 61st birthday.  I was mildly distressed by this coincidence because I certainly didn't want my child to share a birthday with someone who didn't acknowledge her own life with joy. Of course, since there was little I could do to determine Baby #2's arrival day, I just hoped for an early arrival and, when my water broke on April 29th, I knew I got lucky.   Griffin Hudson arrived exactly one day early, beautifully pink with a hearty cry and a bald head. Unfortunately, his birth was a disappointment to my mother since she had fervently wished that I would have a daughter. You know, a girl as revenge for all the trouble I had caused her during my teen years, trouble I presumably still cause as an adult. At least one of us was happy.

I remember bringing Griffin home from the hospital, driving down Hackett Avenue and noticing that in the 2 short days since Griffin joined our family, everything looked different. The tulip beds in the median had popped and the blue sky was filled with white cottony fuzz from some unknown tree. Spring had arrived with this perfect baby boy.

Although I have considered Griffin to be an old soul since his infancy, today Griffin enters the rank of teenager. It's a weird thing to know that I'm heading to the Wine Bar tonight to work rather than preparing to share a special meal with my boy, but, I know his Dad has things covered. I was fully present the afternoon he arrived 13 years ago and, on his request, we'll enjoy dinner tomorrow, May Day, at Cafe Capriccio. At least there will be someone joyfully greeting the month of May. 

Let's see about the go see

It has been a very odd week. And I'm not complaining. Did you know that in the not too distant past I thought every day of my life was going to be the same as yesterday? I had a sad, sad feeling that the next 30 years of my life were going to be coasting towards the ultimate end. Yep, that was it. The life I know today couldn't be more different than what I had tried to convince myself was an acceptable reality. The life I know today is, in fact, Better Than Ever. Which brings me to my recent adventure - an interview for an upcoming article at O magazine...

My former roommate, forever friend, longtime encourager of my writing, Rachel Aydt, sent me an intriguing (don't you love this word?!?) casting call from a former colleague of hers. O magazine was looking to cast a story about women who have experienced a shift, emotional, physical, mental, or spiritual, and who now feel they are indeed Better Than Ever. I don't know if I would have naturally seen myself in this light, but when you get an email from an old friend encouraging you to submit the requested photos and accompanying paragraph, you do it. So I did.

Which brings me to one of the most interesting points of this entire experience - how people, both those of longtime familiarity and of new acquaintance, perceive you. We've talked before about the fact that I am vain and self-satisfied. I won't deny it. I've worked really f'n hard for everything I have and I've kicked myself in the ass as frequently as I've patted myself on the back. Believe me. I know where I've come from and what I've achieved and am comfortable feeding my ego internally. What boggles me is when someone tells me that I inspire them or that I am Better Than Ever. That blows me away.

image from wikipedia

So, I went to NYC on a go see, just like in America's Next Top Model. Except, I'm not 6 feet tall with perfect teeth or even a fetching space between my top two teeth. And I can't imagine walking in heels higher than 3.5". And I honestly don't know how to reconcile the fact that I'm obviously a size small to people who don't know me, while in my own mind I am perennially a size medium. I had to draw an "x" through the line on the intake form where they wanted to know what modeling agency I was with, because I'm not a model. I'm just a woman with a story. And whether O magazine sees it or not, I know that I am Better Than Ever. 

To be continued....

Giving up

Trying to maintain relationships with people who don't communicate with me. Done.

Reading blogs that subsist on recycled ideas and mean spirited observations. Living life on the edge ain't for me. Finished.

Paying more than my share in life. In a world of nickel and dimers, I've erred on the side of generousity. No more.

Not dealing directly with people and situations that are unacceptable. I'm no longer willing to have the discussion solely in my head. Over and done.

Avoiding wearing my reading glasses from the mistaken belief that I can't possibly be at an age when I really need reading glasses. Surrendered.

Schweddy balls v. Sweaty sheets

image from: tv.popcrunch.com

Apparently this hip new flavor of Ben & Jerry's is a seasonal item, here today and perhaps gone tomorrow.  I hope I can say the same is true for these crazy night sweats I've been getting.  I suppose I've been having them for months, maybe even longer.  They seem to be my most  frequent night visitor, surpassing Quinn by a nose.  Or maybe a fluid ounce.  I have not, however,  broached this topic in daylight before now. Prepare yourselves...

It seems that it is acceptable to talk about Schweddy balls publicly, but not sweaty sheets.  I'm willing to take one for the team here, ladies, and admit to experiencing this delightful symptom of advancing age.  I wish I could remember the first time it happened... At the time I probably I discounted it as the result of too much wine, or lack of fresh air flow, or maybe even the soft flannel sheets.  So, last night there was nary a drop of wine in my blood stream, the window was generously cracked open and my sheets were crisp cotton and guess what?  I awoke absolutely dripping wet.  I'm talking drenched.  

Since I'm all about dispelling fallacies and exposing truths, I thought I would share this little personal experience with you, DelSo readers.  Who but me is going to tell you about the wonders of perimenopause?  The joys of parenting three boys who have poor aim?  The magic of pharmaceuticals and surgery?  And let's not forget general heartbreak and relationship implosion.  Merde - maybe night sweats and menopause aren't so bad.  At least there will be ice cream.

The gift of nothing

It seems to me that there are many people who remain in relationships or situations because they are hesitant to lose the security of what is known. Change is scary. Period. When I look around my home, I know I am incredibly fortunate that I didn't have to pack myself up and leave the place where I have lived longest ever. But, I think I could have.

If it had been necessary, I'm confident I would have been able to leave the house behind as I stepped towards the future. I know this because I spent my childhood packing and unpacking, as we moved from house to house sometimes improving our standard of living, sometimes not. The frequent moves (I recall 10 addresses by the time I was 12) left me with a firm belief that the stuff in the boxes was where the comforts of home came from, but the stuff that made me at home with myself came from some other internal space.

I spent some time recently with a very dear friend, someone I have known for more than 30 years. We were talking about finding happiness and contentment in a world often placated by stability and complacency. She spoke of her hesitation to change her circumstances because she was uncertain if she could sacrifice her home and the comforts she has grown accustomed to for an unknown future. Despite the possibility of gaining a deeper sense of personal joy and emotional fulfillment, the appeal of creature comforts and social acceptance was proving too formidable a leash to easily escape. Our conversation caused a genuine "aha" moment for me...

Growing up as I did, moving from town to town and school to school and house to house, taught me a lot. I know I can make a home wherever I am - for myself and my children. I am able to achieve a degree of comfort that is independent of what possessions I am surrounded by. Being raised with limited resources has made me capable of living with little. The gift of nothing may in fact have been the greatest thing my mother ever gave me.

Confession: at 45 years + 3 days

image from messiahmom.com

I am vain.  Yep, there you have it.  In print.  Well, sort of in print.

I just went for my first run in my new year.  It was really hard - it was humid and I have been indulgent this week, as I should be.  Despite the challenges, I'm pleased I went because I always feel inspired when I run.  My appetite for fresh food and mental exercise is stimulated and I come home tired but anticipating the next opportunity to stretch my muscles, wanting just a little more...

My thoughts during those 4 miles this afternoon began with something  I wrote down before leaving the house:

It's not how far you go, it's how far you've come.

That statement sums up a big part of my life's philosophy.  Am I conceited or egotistical? Yes, both, but I earned every thread of confidence I wear.  There are so many ways a person's life can go and the fact that I am where I am at this exact moment in time is because of the choices I made and the work I've invested - in education, and building relationships, and living with the decisions I've made over the years.

There aren't many things I've wanted in my life that I haven't gotten.  Consider yourself warned.  The "things" I've wanted and haven't been able to hold on to, were never really "things," anyway.  I mean, I'll never know my father or trust my mother or have a husband for my entire life, but that all is about yesterday and I think overall, I'm doing ok.  Perhaps, even better than that.

Anticipating opportunities to stretch one's muscles and wanting a little more ain't just for running....

45 Things I've learned this year

1.  I prefer my surgery with local anaesthesia.
2.  There is a huge difference between having one's heart broken and having your ego
     stomped on. The first situation requires time to heal, the later demands a realistic
     examination of what the relationship really meant means.
3.   Part time parenting is the dirty little secret of divorce. That's all I'm saying and I'm quoting
      someone else.
4.   After a couple of 5Ks, a Warrior Dash and a sprint triathlon or two, I know I'm up for more
      physical challenges at age 45 than I was at 35. Or 25.
5.   Being alone and lonely is an improvement on being with someone and lonely.
6.   Writing is a path.
7.   The lines on my face are not from sleeping on my stomach. I'd better get used to them.
8.  There is a deep irony in losing one's ability to see close-up while simultaneously
     beginning to grow rogue hair in random places. Jury is still out on whether diminished
     vision is a curse or a blessing.
9.  I'm happy to get away from home for adventures but content to be in my home - even
     alone.Where ever you go, there you are.
10. My brother and friends, both old and new, continue to be amazing sources of stability,
      support and nonjudgmental love.
11. Speaking of love, I feel blessed to have as much love in my life as I do. Opening one's
      heart and letting go of the negative creates space for the positive.
12. Relationships may change over time, but common interests like children, cycling and food
      can keep a friendship alive.
13. Never believe all the decisions in life have already been made. Choices always remain.
14. Exercise, particularly running these days, is a sanity saver.
15. It is wonderful to work for a restaurant owner who understands owning a restaurant is a
      professional endeavor not a vanity project.
16. Having good credit is an often minimized reward in life.
17. Ice cream and alcohol make summer fun. They also make me about 5 lbs heavier.
18. I am much more productive when I am busy.
19. I don't know why or how, but apparently I sometimes inspire people. I hope the    
      inspiration I provide is to live a full life.
20. The challenges in life merely make the sweet spots more special.
21. I have a new found appreciation for exercising when the temperature is high.
22. I'm not that difficult, much less impossible, to take care of.
23. Milk, and other dairy products, from Meadowbrook Farms are a luxury I am willing to work
      into my budget as a necessary expense.
24. Children accept change with grace when it is accompanied by honesty.
25. Being healthy makes everything better.
26. Speaking my mind, with as much sensitivity as the circumstances demand, is best for
      everyone involved.
27. People are capable of things never imagined - both good and bad.
28. Endorphins are real. And addictive.
29. Grocery shopping can be fun!
30. Love comes from places not previously imagined.
31. Life has many chapters. Not every character makes the leap from one chapter to the
      next. This is okay.
32. Worrying is less productive than work.
33. Sleep becomes less necessary with age.
34. I have a latent competitive streak that surprises me.
35. Acceptance and surrender are very different emotions.
36. I will not tolerate feeling invisible.
37. I don't have many regrets in life but, those I do have, constantly remind me to avoid
      accumulating any more.
38. I love buying wine by the case!
39. There is nothing so heady as falling in love.
40.  Words are very powerful to me, but without action they lose their mojo.
41.  I've never been more optimistic about the future.
42.  The Capital City Gastropub is going to rock this town.
43.  It doesn't really matter where you are.  It's all about who you're with.
44.  Feeling excited about tomorrow is invigorating.
45.  Being in love is the best drug in the world.  Maybe even the universe.

Boy man

What can you say about a kid quickly becoming a man?  I mean, I'm talking about a young teen on the express route physically, and perhaps even intellectually, to adulthood.  He is taller by the second as his height wrestles with the size of his feet for ultimate dominance, and his hair and voice are growing darker and deeper each time I look at him.  Something I now have to do, incidentally, by looking up rather than down.

His dvr recorded list is very interesting and offers a peek into his personality.  It spans decades and seems to revisit some movies an uncountable number of times.  Get Smart (2008 remake), Airplane (1980), Captain America (1992), Muppet Treasury (1996, with Tim Curry), The Parent Trap (1961), Great Performances (Vienna Philharmonic), Jurassic Park (1993).  Wow, huh?  I'd say that about sums it up - he is cultured and silly and sentimental and adventurous.  He's my boy. 

He's starting high school this month - a whole new world of opportunities and experiences are right around the corner. He is beginning to make more of his own choices beginning with the academy for his curriculum as Albany High tinkers with their academic structure to create more focused houses within a large school. His schedule arrived last week and he seems excited, for him. Teens have a tendency to be blasé so his eagerness manifested itself as a lack of disdain more than something most people would interpret as excitement, but I can see it.  He's ready for the next thing.  Glad one of us is.

What are you afraid of?

When did the thought of doing something new become an occasion we were more afraid of than challenged by?

I've been thinking about fear and its ability to paralyze a person. How many opportunities do we deny ourselves because we are afraid of what may happen if we take that step in a new direction? In many ways, the last year has been very scary for me. There have been surgeries and diagnoses that have frightened me, yet I have learned how to contend with medical situations which are out of my control - local anesthesia and information. I have made the choice to end my marriage, despite the anxiety I have about raising three happy, well adjusted boys in two households.  Ultimately, though, I  know that the condition "happy" has to begin with me. I committed to buying the marital home even though the financial responsibilities scare the crap out of me. Optimism, a hardcore work ethic and good credit will hopefully help me to manage this responsibility. 

These are big things - health and family and finances... I've contended with these situations because I had to, options were limited and I needed to take action with the belief that tomorrow would bring better things.  The  certainty of not doing something must be considered as potentially deathly as taking a risk, right?

I've just returned from a wonderful vacation where I consciously did two things that frightened me. The first, pictured above, was a leap jump off a bridge.  Prior to my trip to the beach, I had attended a party at a friend's lake house fully intending to jump into the lake from his deck, upper level, of course.  The day of the party I absolutely bailed on that idea due to fear.  Even the lower deck was too high for my comfort  and I ultimately ended up sliding into the water rather than leaping.  Fail.  This bridge was my chance for redemption and I embraced it.   The shriek  I emitted as I pushed off the bridge was my body's shout out to the universe - my "Hello, I'm here!"  

The second scary thing I did was a bit more foolhardy, I rode my son's bicycle in the pitch dark, feeling like a 14 y/o.  It was so dark I couldn't see my hand in front of my face, a sensation I enjoy when I'm on my feet in my home, but not when I'm in an unfamiliar place, riding a bike I'd never ridden before.  (With a helmet, of course.) I was really scared!  Tree branches were a genuine concern, and there were other unexpected obstacles, too, like misplaced telephone poles between the curb and the sidewalk that were a real peril.  And the word that kept running through my head was "reckless." But, was it?  Really?  I mean, I rode slowly, using caution.  I was mostly sober.  Yet I kept returning to the question "Why am I inviting fear unnecessarily into my life?"  

Maybe the better question is, "Why aren't I?"

Table for 5 (or why dinner as a family can be continued despite impending divorce)

I believe most people get married believing it is forever, not for ever. Introducing children to a relationship adds some additional concrete to the mix and, when all is said and done within the marriage and it is time to move on from being a couple, the presence of children continues to cement the two of you together for the imaginable future. Obvious, right? Nothing ground-breaking, just classic, common sense.

Although it is evident that every marriage has its own unique set of circumstances, it seems that divorces meet a few consistent themes. Usually they involve a quality of life diminishment, damage to the children, complicated visitation and financial arrangements, a complete re-writing of the holidays and traditions...

Positive impacts of divorce, and there is the potential for there to be some, aren't spoken about in anything above a whisper. Things like more focused parenting, increased time for personal interests and pursuits, less conflict, opportunities to rewrite holidays and traditions...

Every family has meaningful rites, whether it is the appreciative phrase one says as they arrive safely at home, or a special song played during a particular annual car trip. Things that have significance. I think most of these rituals are priceless, yet cost nothing. Why wouldn't a family want to continue these traditions? With some sensitivity and humor, I think it can (and should) happen - everyone benefits.

So, we gathered together as a family of five for a few days at the beach and everyone survived, I mean thrived. Picnic lunches were shared, our natural rhythm of tag team parenting easily fell back into place, and we went to our family's beach joint for a meal, where we sat together as a party of five. Instead of the boys recalling this as the summer their parents split, maybe they'll remember making some more family beach memories with Mom and Dad. And we'll all try to remain cognizant that a table for five is a privilege, not a punishment.

Running through the pain

image from: wholeironwoman.com

The good news is that the thing with my  right glute that had been bothering me seems to have resolved itself. I wish I could say it was because of the awesome stretches my chiropractor, Lee Masterson at Delmar Chiropractic had shown me, but, honestly, I haven't been vigilant about doing them. I have tried to stretch a bit more, but ultimately think it just worked itself out.  The bad news is that I now have transferred my pain discomfort to the left side of my body - namely in my hip and knee. Each time I ran last week, I could feel things being not quite right. The pain wasn't sharp, just kind of a dull ache, and I muscled through well enough to joke that since I hurt in so many places, it was impossible for me to focus on a single pain. Yeah!

I wondered if I should ease up (nope) or if maybe I should replace a run with a ride (check) and this week I was rewarded for sticking with my training. Training, you ask? More about that in a moment... My last 2 runs have been amazing, for me. I remember months ago hoping to run a 5k without having to stop or walk, and I've accomplished that. Twice. I've been working on extending my distance and honestly thought I'd be content with 3.5 or maybe, just maybe, 4 miles.  However, when I was talking to my middle son the other day and describing how I have been increasing my runs he immediately knew where (or how far) I was going - 5 miles.  That's the goal.  And, remarkably enough, it truly feels within my grasp. 

In approximately 2 months I plan to participate in an event in my hometown (what's up, Greenwood Lake?!) called the American Memorial Triathlon. The three components of the triathlon are a .5 mile swim, followed by a 16 mile bike ride, finished with a 4 mile ride. Unlike the last triathlon I did, this one has some (ok, one) familiar aspect and that's the bike ride. I've ridden around the lake before and am not concerned about this middle activity whatsoever. Thanks to stubbornness athletic prowess, I am growing more confident in my ability to run 4 miles. Actually, the other night I ran 4.6 and still had some gas left in the tank. I've got this. So, what to obsess over other than the right attire for a triathlon? The swim, naturally. That is where I need to shift my attention and I've gotten my toes wet, so to speak in the past week or so, in a pool and a couple of lakes.  My upcoming annual beach vacation should be the perfect opportunity to work on all three areas, and I'm hoping to balance my physical activity with the ideal number of margaritas and fried scallops. It is, after all, vacation.

Another thing happens in approximately two months: I turn 45. I can only imagine the sense of strength and accomplishment I will feel knowing that I completed a triathlon held in the village where I spent so many of my younger years.  Greenwood Lake will always hold a special place in my heart and returning there to compete (against myself) is incredibly exciting to me.  Factor in the date of the event, September 11th, and the magnitude of how fortunate I am to even participate is completely inspiring.  

Please share any tips or suggestions or experiences.  Or, better yet, meet me at the finish line.

MIA: Love

Where does all that love go?

That passion that had brought the two of you together? It isn't randomly floating around in our universe, for certain.  At least not in that combined, intense state.  There definitely were bits of it being circulated about, perhaps even covering a wide geographic range, but it was falling more like a light rain instead of being huddled together as a cloud full of moisture.  I think a tremendous amount of the love must go into the children - and they are excellent love investments.

As an exchange, there are many worse deals a person could make than this tangible evidence that a great love had created a lasting entity of beauty, or three.  

One day, though, you wake up and your partner has become another child.  The child who is seemingly regressing while the children you've loved since they existed only in your imagination, are becoming more independent. And you have to decide what to do.  Is it enough to remain in a relationship waiting for the next transition and hoping against hope that there will be steps forward?  Do you continue to augment your partnership by developing other interests - interests which may ultimately lead your further away instead of closer together?  Or - do you recognize that there essentially isn't enough to keep you tethered and begin looking ahead to a future which will be unlike the one you always expected?  And, during this realization, do you recognize how long it is has been since your imagination about the future has been activated?  The sigh that you expel at that moment in time - is it relief?  Sorrow?  Or simply the exhale of a breath that you didn't even realize you had been holding inside? 

And, with its release, how long does it take for you to realize both how empty you've been inside, and how much room there is for something else?

My first 5K!

image: Bob Kopac

image: Bob Kopac

This was actually my second 5K if you count the year I did the Freihofer's Run with my friend, Sharon.  I think it was 1998 and I know I had to stop and walk once or twice before finishing in about 38 or 39 minutes.  And, I believe we lubricated our joints at  The Griffin following the race.  Yesterday I started my day with a run across the river as part of the Treetops to Rooftops race.  Yep, the river.  It was a spectacular morning, cool in the early morning fog, yet hot by the time we looped around the east side of the river and headed back across the beautiful Hudson.  There were people of all ages and abilities, teams with matching shirts and even a face or two I recognized from the Capital District and I had a great time.  There were only about four hundred participants and I loved the course and the vibe.  I will definitely do this run again.  Heck - maybe I'll do it just for fun when I'm down that way next.  And, for the record, I finished in 28:10, which is about 10 minutes less than my time from 13 years ago.  Further evidence I have not yet peaked!  Warrior Dash 2011 is next on the agenda...