my hope today.

I hope. I pray.

I desperately wish that I will never let myself be built up by someone else's pain. I pray deeply that I will never benefit from another's hurt. That rather, i will hurt with them. That rather, I will take time to understand rather than to assume. That rather, I will look past my feelings and see the deep humanity found in another.

I hope. I pray.

That I might think first with a gentle heart, next with an empathetic mind, and never with spite.

Lofty. In a world of cynicism and competition. Difficult. In a place of deep confusion and unexplainable paranoia. Challenging. In a life of pride.

Completely Necessary without excuse or recompense. In order to be whole.

Love first. Love second. Love last.

chlorinated memories

I love the smell of my hands after a swim in the pool. The smell of chlorine mixed with soap reminds me of how much I loved my childhood swim team days. M-F early mornings in the cold pool with friends. Saturday mornings with Mom and Dad (and sisters). Dad judging the events and Mom working the snack bar. The awesome feeling of finishing that last relay and hoping that we made the "padonia cut". I remember that horrible summer when I was on accutane and it made me burn instantly, so I spent my Saturday meets in long sleeves, SPF 50 and a hat which I dunked completely in the diving well between events. What a hoot.

I am not a fast swimmer, nor can I swim very long. But there is just something about being in the water that makes me feel alive. Despite my layers of blubber, my imagination has me as a lanky swimmer (perhaps the body of my teen years?) and I feel free.

I sincerely hope that everyone has the "one thing" that makes them feel free, strong, and safe. So many around me are struggling with life, love, and other mysteries right now that I pray that they each have a haven of hope. Unrelated to material possessions or other people. That place where they may return.

Perhaps it is in this chlorinated freedom that I find God. In returning to me, you shall find rest, so it goes....it is almost like the return each week to the water is a return to Him, who provides that rest and security.

I wish this for all around me.

Peace today to you, dear reader.

what's my motivation here?

My dear RP and I were running this morning amongst freezing cold and icy trails and had a wonderful time of conversation. She is often the ray of sunshine to my self deprecation when it comes to our long runs. We were both suffering from lack of sleep and being pretty hard on ourselves. As we traipsed up and down the trails of the Patapsco trail system and into Lake Elkhorn, our conversation led itself into a discussion about our motivation for running. Why are we choosing our schedule? Why are we so unforgiving of ourselves when we don't run fast enough or if we feel tired? Are we running for ourselves (or even better, to glorify God) or are we running to compete against a demon (either in human form or some hidden feeling)?

We are not land speed breakers, but we hold our own. We are not skinny or sinewy but we can run 26.2 miles and handle various other physical tasks with fluency. But we are in a place in our lives where we feel as though we have to do it all "right now". Family, career, running feats, triathlon feats, social service work, leadership roles etc. etc. etc. What will happen if we don't make it all happen now? What will actually happen now?

For me, I have already seen the negative effects to trying to do to much in my running life. I have ended up injured, tired, and completely unmotivated to run. It is only now that, through a balance of running and other things, that I am enjoying running in a way that I had forgotten.

We must be willing to give ourselves permission to have a bad run, to not run a spring race, or to sleep in on any given Saturday at 7am. We must be gentle with our own bodies and souls so that we may endure the excessive pounding we put on our bodies when we do hit the road or the deal handed out to our soul when we slow down.

I envy those who can run, bike, or exercise without mental connection. Those who use this physical act to disconnect rather than to connect inward. I am so proud of running and how it has changed many parts of me, but at the end of the day I am still me. Hard on myself, competitive with others, and then again, harder on myself without regard to what life has given me on any given day. Often when dealing with myself, I think I feel that I must be infallible while I grant those around me concession for just about anything

I have made these big lofty race goals for 2008 and I hope to still go through with all of them, but if my motivation puts more hurt on my body, physically or emotionally, will this excessive work be worth it?

My motivation today? Reconnecting with a dear friend and running on trails that I haven't been on in quite some time. The result: An ankle workout over ice for 10 miles. A chance to provide comfort and guidance to a friend who puts up with all of my poo on a regular basis.

My motivation tomorrow? Well that is for tomorrow

remembering why we marathon

Tonight, the local running community all descended upon the local AMC to see The Spirit of the Marathon, a documentary about the experience of running a marathon (specifically Chicago, 2005). The movie was inspirational, funny, dramatic, and tear-jerking. It reminded me of what we go through as we prepare for and run the marathon. As we accompanied two elites and four mortals through their marathon experience, it was as if we were right there with them through the 20 milers, the early mornings, and the race day.

In this moment of my life, where I question my strength on a regular basis, this movie reminded me of what I have accomplished....seven times. At one point in the movie one of the participants said, "If I can run a marathon, I can survive anything." I am uplifted by this statement. The marathon is the most physically taxing experience I have ever had (particular this past fall) and as I embark on the most emotionally taxing experience in my life (i'm guessing), I take heart in the memory that I too, can survive anything.

stream of consciousness for the day.

In my recent attempts to understand the culture of women, trust, anger, and fear, I have started to read Mean Girls All Grown Up by Hayley DiMarco. I have had it on my bookshelf for some time, but I have finally begun to approach it. I have started my study with it knowing that as a student, I was bullied. However, I was never the target of girls in my school as displayed by many nonfiction books (Queen Bees and Wanna Bee's, Odd Girl Out, etc.) and in film, Mean Girls (based on QB&WB). I was actually bullied by boys in school, which creates an odd circumstance for now, where I navigate the waters of trust and authenticity in friendships and "enemiships" with women.
So far, I have found the book to be very interesting in how to scripturally deal with women in our lives who cause us hurt, mistrust, or anger through their actions or words. It is so often not about our action but our reaction that will cause us to be in pain. It is through our perpetuation of the negative attention that it will continue.

I find this was definitely the case in high school with my bullies. My reactions of tears or pleas for help just increased the fuel to their fire. In the end, it was graduation and a dedicated approach to ignoring their taunts well into college that enabled me to let go and encouraged them to stop.

I am so desperately saddened though, that we, in our adult years, even need books like this. I have this fictional notion of the way women should unite together, build each other up, and support one another that simply does not exist. Of course, in my close personal friendships, these things exist and thrive, but within a culture of greater "sisterhood", I can't seem to find unity.

Superchick has many amazing songs about being bullied, hurt, suffering, and various other adolescent and young adult type strife issues. But in particular, they have a song called High School. This song is the definition of what I have experienced lately. Somehow, some of us have never left the arena where we had to compete against things that are purely physical and/or materialistic. We continue, in our adulthood, to lift up ourselves through the abuse of others. It makes me so tremendously sad. In any efforts I have made to avoid these situations, it ends up appearing as I am something I am not. I cannot fully articulate what is perceived about me, I can only whisper, speak, and shout all of the things I am trying to be, regardless of their perception.

Sometimes it all feels more stressful than is worth. The vast amount of energy trying to define myself and my intentions to those who do not understand me seems so often moot. As a pleaser, I find myself digging a deeper and deeper whole trying to build a bridge that continues to be burnt down. At what point do I say to the arsonist, "enough. i have tried to please you, to understand you, to help you, to befriend you, and I have failed. I surrender."

I am hoping that through this surrender that God will help me to see the value in letting go. Obviously not my best attribute but a very clear solution to my days, months, and years worth of trying to fix, when the solution is not to fix but to forget.

nasal orchestra

the love of my life is about 2ft. long and about 18 pounds. he is currently asleep next to me and snoring quite loudly. he is heaven with fur.

a way of thinking.

This card goes with me everywhere I go and it helps me when I have no answers to my questions. It helps me realize that I may not have resolutions to the answers in my heart in my time but yet there will come a time when perhaps I will not even questions the why, how, and when of things.

While I don't think Rilke was making any references to God. I am going to take my own interpretation that God does things for the good of those whole love Him. He has answers to all of the world's great questions. He provides the hope, grace, and peace for anyone who seeks it. Instead of searching God for the reasons and answers to heartache, perhaps it better to ask God to seek me. Ask God to show me how I can best fulfill his purpose for me. I wonder if this is not maybe a better way.

This poem references a sense of trust. In the journey or the process or the way, whichever vernacular is best. But alas, when one has lost a sincere sense of trust and endures what feels like unending heartache, it seems like the last thing possible is to trust in something unseen. And there in lies faith.

Peace.