I am changing up the race calendar a bit.
Originally I had planned to run the Shamrock Shuffle 10k in Madison in mid-March. Although I was quite excited about it because I love the festivities of St. Patrick's Day and I am feeling pretty good about testing myself in a 10k, I have decided to drop it from the roster.
All I can really say as a reason is this: Right now Madison is a field of land mines for me and everyday I do everything I can to avoid them. Sometimes not being in the wrong place at the wrong time is the best answer...if that makes any sense. I am making a choice that will ultimately give me more distance from the past instead of putting myself in a hurtful situation where I would potentially need to confront it.
See? I'm learning. I am starting to take care of me. It's foreign, and sometimes it feels like backing down or resigning...but in reality it is simply doing what's right for me.
In lieu of this race, I have decided to head back home to Bay City, MI the weekend of March 20 and run in our 38th annual St. Patrick's Day Races. The reason I love St. Patrick's Day so much is driven by just how huge of an event it was for us as kids. Bay City has a lot of Irish - A LOT. Our biggest summer festivals are put on by the Irish Catholic churches. In fact, my family on my father's side is Irish as well. And every year until we were in school, we would bundle up (think 'A Christmas Story' style) to head downtown to watch the parade. It was like Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade meets Bay City St. Patrick's Day. As soon as we were in school, we were in the parade ourselves. I started as a Brownie, then as part of the pep squad, later the marching band, and in my senior year I was honored to have the chance to ride on the back of convertible. Wow. It was cool.
Being in the parade was awesome. Looking for my parents and finally seeing them in the crowd was even better. They cheered and my dad whistled. It was like we were celebrities.
Then there was the anticipation that if all went according to plan...we would go through the McDonald's drive-through afterward and get a car full of Shamrock Shakes.
That is what life is all about.
So this year I am going to try to drag my sister and brother out to run with me. It will be just like the 'olden' days...except now we'll be in running gear and we'll likely follow up the race with a green beer while the nieces and nephews get their Shamrock Shakes.
It won't be a 10k - they only go up to an 8k. But it doesn't matter. It's home, it's familiar, and it's guaranteed to be a day where I can just be me. That's the past I want to connect with right now.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Monday, February 21, 2011
Well, color me blue and give me a tail
I am happy to report that I am successfully 11 miles into the movie Avatar.
Getting myself down to the basement took a day-and-a-half. I made excuse after excuse and promise after promise to myself yesterday...then went to WTF class.
Which, by the way, went well. Except for one tiny, itty bitty part. In her opening monologue the instructor was going through the lay of the land for the next 6 weeks of core-crunching, tear-spraying sufferfest, then sprung this on us...
"It would be even better for your training if you gave up alcohol for the duration of the bootcamp."
Excuse me?
I must be hallucinating because I am positive that she didn't just suggest I give up wine. For 6 weeks of my little life.
She followed it up with - "It's only 6 weeks and it will maximize the results of the hard work you will do in here."
Listen lady, I like you. We just met but I can tell you are going to make me wish I was never born over the course of this class, and I will likely thank you for it in April. However, let me remind you, we just met. You don't just come waltzing into my life (ok, I waltzed into her class - whatever, semantics) and tell me to give up wine. Why don't you just tell me to give up coffee, followed by breathing? Those two together would be easier than shelving the wine. I'm hanging by a thread some days, and frankly - a glass of fermented grapes pouring down from a pretty bottle are sometimes the only thing I have to look forward to at the end of the day.
Don't judge.
So, I'm considering giving up wine. I know I will have to eventually, when the throes of IM training are upon me. When I trained for IM the first time around, the transition was natural. I reached a point where I didn't even want wine. Or a cold beer. None of it interested me.
IM is 27 weeks out. It's just too early. But, I'll consider it. Right after this delicious glass of Cab. I promise.
Anyway, back to 11 miles of Avatar. I thought for sure this was going to be the worst 2 hours of my life...running on the treadmill...glancing down at the distance every 2.5 seconds...cursing it for not even moving 0.01/mile.
Avatar is saving me. I finished disc 1. Good stuff. I knew they'd fall in love (sorry if I am spoiling it for anyone...but hey, the flick has been out forever). The action scenes are heart-thumping enough to make me up the speed on the hamster wheel. I am thoroughly enjoying it.
It took 111 minutes to cover 11 miles...even with my limited math capability I know that's 10 min/miles. Woohoo! IronMin is getting fast (for IronMin)
And, I hope I get to finish the rest of the movie tomorrow during my 4 miles.
I guess the treadmill isn't so bad after all. Now, back to my wine.
Getting myself down to the basement took a day-and-a-half. I made excuse after excuse and promise after promise to myself yesterday...then went to WTF class.
Which, by the way, went well. Except for one tiny, itty bitty part. In her opening monologue the instructor was going through the lay of the land for the next 6 weeks of core-crunching, tear-spraying sufferfest, then sprung this on us...
"It would be even better for your training if you gave up alcohol for the duration of the bootcamp."
Excuse me?
I must be hallucinating because I am positive that she didn't just suggest I give up wine. For 6 weeks of my little life.
She followed it up with - "It's only 6 weeks and it will maximize the results of the hard work you will do in here."
Listen lady, I like you. We just met but I can tell you are going to make me wish I was never born over the course of this class, and I will likely thank you for it in April. However, let me remind you, we just met. You don't just come waltzing into my life (ok, I waltzed into her class - whatever, semantics) and tell me to give up wine. Why don't you just tell me to give up coffee, followed by breathing? Those two together would be easier than shelving the wine. I'm hanging by a thread some days, and frankly - a glass of fermented grapes pouring down from a pretty bottle are sometimes the only thing I have to look forward to at the end of the day.
Don't judge.
So, I'm considering giving up wine. I know I will have to eventually, when the throes of IM training are upon me. When I trained for IM the first time around, the transition was natural. I reached a point where I didn't even want wine. Or a cold beer. None of it interested me.
IM is 27 weeks out. It's just too early. But, I'll consider it. Right after this delicious glass of Cab. I promise.
Anyway, back to 11 miles of Avatar. I thought for sure this was going to be the worst 2 hours of my life...running on the treadmill...glancing down at the distance every 2.5 seconds...cursing it for not even moving 0.01/mile.
Avatar is saving me. I finished disc 1. Good stuff. I knew they'd fall in love (sorry if I am spoiling it for anyone...but hey, the flick has been out forever). The action scenes are heart-thumping enough to make me up the speed on the hamster wheel. I am thoroughly enjoying it.
It took 111 minutes to cover 11 miles...even with my limited math capability I know that's 10 min/miles. Woohoo! IronMin is getting fast (for IronMin)
And, I hope I get to finish the rest of the movie tomorrow during my 4 miles.
I guess the treadmill isn't so bad after all. Now, back to my wine.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Hi-ho, Hi-ho, it's down to the basement I go
I was sitting here totally stumped.
The training plan calls for running 11 miles. Julie and I were planning to meet this morning at 8:30 and crank them out...until the freezing rain descended on Madison. The entire time I was in LA, I heard reports of 50 degrees and sunny in Madtown. On Thursday, it was literally only 1 degree warmer in Cali.
Then my plane lands, and the freezing rain and snow follow.
Julie and I canceled the outdoor run. I slept in. Over my morning coffee, I thought - what am I going to do? Should I swap workouts? Try it on the treadmill? Maybe swim instead?
Then she texted...she just got off the treadmill.
Yes, she did her 11 miles on the treadmill.
Time to stop being a wimp. Time to stop whining and looking for excuses. I have a treadmill. I am out of excuses.
If I don't fall off or lose my mind...I also start WTF bootcamp at 4pm today. This is a big day...love WTF, love the pain, love the fun. And I hope that it keeps my mind off the date today. Just need to get through the day without too much thinking. One foot in front of the other.
Running and WTF. I'll keep you posted...should be an interesting day...
The training plan calls for running 11 miles. Julie and I were planning to meet this morning at 8:30 and crank them out...until the freezing rain descended on Madison. The entire time I was in LA, I heard reports of 50 degrees and sunny in Madtown. On Thursday, it was literally only 1 degree warmer in Cali.
Then my plane lands, and the freezing rain and snow follow.
Julie and I canceled the outdoor run. I slept in. Over my morning coffee, I thought - what am I going to do? Should I swap workouts? Try it on the treadmill? Maybe swim instead?
Then she texted...she just got off the treadmill.
Yes, she did her 11 miles on the treadmill.
Time to stop being a wimp. Time to stop whining and looking for excuses. I have a treadmill. I am out of excuses.
If I don't fall off or lose my mind...I also start WTF bootcamp at 4pm today. This is a big day...love WTF, love the pain, love the fun. And I hope that it keeps my mind off the date today. Just need to get through the day without too much thinking. One foot in front of the other.
Running and WTF. I'll keep you posted...should be an interesting day...
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Brighter, Stronger
I'm home.
I've spent the past week in Los Angeles for work. I was out there participating in the production of our 2011 TV advertising and it was a big trip, as it typically is. Our days started at 7am with shooting wrapping around 6pm...followed by the long travel time back to the hotel. It is simply startling to me that 5 miles in LA can take an hour. I can almost run faster than that. On a good day.
The work was great, but the downtime was almost nil. I squeezed in a couple of 4 miles runs - Monday morning and Wednesday evening. On Wednesday I found myself running right by the MGM studio lot. That was pretty wild. I didn't see any celebs, but there were plenty of beautiful cars. In fact, it was a week of beautiful cars, beautiful people, and beautiful scenery.
My sister joined me last weekend prior to the shoot start and we had a very relaxing time hanging out in Beverly Hills and Hollywood. We did some shopping, lots of eating, a bit of sight-seeing...she makes me laugh like no one else can.
For me, I desperately needed to get out of Madison for the 2/12-2/14 weekend and catch my breath in a place where memories do not exist. I fled the city like a fugitive...these dates are painful to me in ways I cannot describe. Tomorrow is also a very painful date. These are days I wish I could fast-forward through. Wake up on the other side of them as if they just didn't happen this year.
I still have to consciously stage a block-and-tackle strategy every day to manage my memories and feelings. I keep waiting for that magical moment in time when remembering doesn't hurt anymore. When I can see a familiar car that doesn't pierce my chest...when I can hear a song that won't make me stare off into the distance and spiral into the darkness. I wonder when I will pull on a pair of jeans and not get jolted back to a warm memory laced with happy conversation and easy laughter. Even when I get on a plane...I'll be damned if even an airplane gets me choked up as I revisit the safety of being loved and protected.
I have been holding on to this for the last few weeks: I just recently learned that more things have been said behind my back by the one I used to trust that have absolutely only one intention - to hurt me. To further destroy my faith and trust. To truly illustrate just how wrong I was about ever opening my heart in the first place. I am already on my knees - I just don't understand why more words are being said and stories are being told. Especially when I have kept my promises, kept sacred the deeper secrets that I vowed to never reveal. Through my hurt, I didn't attempt to bring anyone else down.
I am simply disillusioned. And disappointed. Profoundly disappointed. I feel peace that I did not take the path of slander or pursue the infliction of more hurt. I grasped onto anything I could during the worst of it and focused on putting one foot in front of the other, pulling myself out of bed each morning, and trying to sleep each night. I'm not a perfect person by any stretch, I easily and readily admit that. There were moments when I felt so betrayed and hurt I did want to hurt back. But, I didn't. I made a conscious effort not to. I realize that in some ways, when I kept quiet it enabled others to form their own opinions. Pick their own sides. I do not care. I know the truth.
I don't want to end this post on a down-note. Training and the sense of focus it provides has been growing my confidence. Friends, old and new, have been lifting my spirits at every turn. I am so thankful for the support. Every day, a little brighter. Every day, a little stronger. Every day, a little more me.
I've spent the past week in Los Angeles for work. I was out there participating in the production of our 2011 TV advertising and it was a big trip, as it typically is. Our days started at 7am with shooting wrapping around 6pm...followed by the long travel time back to the hotel. It is simply startling to me that 5 miles in LA can take an hour. I can almost run faster than that. On a good day.
The work was great, but the downtime was almost nil. I squeezed in a couple of 4 miles runs - Monday morning and Wednesday evening. On Wednesday I found myself running right by the MGM studio lot. That was pretty wild. I didn't see any celebs, but there were plenty of beautiful cars. In fact, it was a week of beautiful cars, beautiful people, and beautiful scenery.
My sister joined me last weekend prior to the shoot start and we had a very relaxing time hanging out in Beverly Hills and Hollywood. We did some shopping, lots of eating, a bit of sight-seeing...she makes me laugh like no one else can.
For me, I desperately needed to get out of Madison for the 2/12-2/14 weekend and catch my breath in a place where memories do not exist. I fled the city like a fugitive...these dates are painful to me in ways I cannot describe. Tomorrow is also a very painful date. These are days I wish I could fast-forward through. Wake up on the other side of them as if they just didn't happen this year.
I still have to consciously stage a block-and-tackle strategy every day to manage my memories and feelings. I keep waiting for that magical moment in time when remembering doesn't hurt anymore. When I can see a familiar car that doesn't pierce my chest...when I can hear a song that won't make me stare off into the distance and spiral into the darkness. I wonder when I will pull on a pair of jeans and not get jolted back to a warm memory laced with happy conversation and easy laughter. Even when I get on a plane...I'll be damned if even an airplane gets me choked up as I revisit the safety of being loved and protected.
I have been holding on to this for the last few weeks: I just recently learned that more things have been said behind my back by the one I used to trust that have absolutely only one intention - to hurt me. To further destroy my faith and trust. To truly illustrate just how wrong I was about ever opening my heart in the first place. I am already on my knees - I just don't understand why more words are being said and stories are being told. Especially when I have kept my promises, kept sacred the deeper secrets that I vowed to never reveal. Through my hurt, I didn't attempt to bring anyone else down.
I am simply disillusioned. And disappointed. Profoundly disappointed. I feel peace that I did not take the path of slander or pursue the infliction of more hurt. I grasped onto anything I could during the worst of it and focused on putting one foot in front of the other, pulling myself out of bed each morning, and trying to sleep each night. I'm not a perfect person by any stretch, I easily and readily admit that. There were moments when I felt so betrayed and hurt I did want to hurt back. But, I didn't. I made a conscious effort not to. I realize that in some ways, when I kept quiet it enabled others to form their own opinions. Pick their own sides. I do not care. I know the truth.
I don't want to end this post on a down-note. Training and the sense of focus it provides has been growing my confidence. Friends, old and new, have been lifting my spirits at every turn. I am so thankful for the support. Every day, a little brighter. Every day, a little stronger. Every day, a little more me.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
100, 200, GO
First of all, thank you so much for all of the kind comments and support on my last post. It is an evolving emotion...the return to Ironman. I am excited, yet strangely calm. I am focused, yet sure.
I am at peace - both with the decision and with the timing. It's only 6 months away.
6 months is short in Ironman training time, but perhaps a little too long in heart-healing time. I wonder where I'll be in 6 months in terms of where I'm at today. Will the days not continue to yield to the stumbles of my vulnerability? Will I find myself standing taller with my head held high? Where...where will I be?
Other than Louisville, KY on August 28.
I mentioned before, when I start to feel overwhelmed...I get on the treadmill. This week has been tough, which has been fairly frustrating. It's similar to training I suppose. You build, you peak, you recover. Recovery weeks are when the fatigue you've been fighting starts to rear it's head and you realize just how exhausted you really are. Tired from pushing it & tired of taking the plan one-day-at-a-time.
I am exhausted this week. The strong front I have been forcing to show the world is deteriorating under the weight of its pressure. I need this week as recovery to start again with fresh heart next week.
In the meantime, I have added a new element to the training plan. ONE HUNDRED.
I found this website for getting to 100 push-ups in 6 weeks. http://www.hundredpushups.com/
I tested this weekend and I am at 9. 2 days into the program and my arms are seriously about to fall off.
I figured - hey, why not do the 200 sit-ups challenge too? And the 200 squats?
I can do 51 sit-ups. And 39 squats.
This program is actually pretty fun so far. 5 reps a session...totally doable. And if in 6 weeks it works - WOW WOW WOW!
Anyone want to join me?
I am at peace - both with the decision and with the timing. It's only 6 months away.
6 months is short in Ironman training time, but perhaps a little too long in heart-healing time. I wonder where I'll be in 6 months in terms of where I'm at today. Will the days not continue to yield to the stumbles of my vulnerability? Will I find myself standing taller with my head held high? Where...where will I be?
Other than Louisville, KY on August 28.
I mentioned before, when I start to feel overwhelmed...I get on the treadmill. This week has been tough, which has been fairly frustrating. It's similar to training I suppose. You build, you peak, you recover. Recovery weeks are when the fatigue you've been fighting starts to rear it's head and you realize just how exhausted you really are. Tired from pushing it & tired of taking the plan one-day-at-a-time.
I am exhausted this week. The strong front I have been forcing to show the world is deteriorating under the weight of its pressure. I need this week as recovery to start again with fresh heart next week.
In the meantime, I have added a new element to the training plan. ONE HUNDRED.
I found this website for getting to 100 push-ups in 6 weeks. http://www.hundredpushups.com/
I tested this weekend and I am at 9. 2 days into the program and my arms are seriously about to fall off.
I figured - hey, why not do the 200 sit-ups challenge too? And the 200 squats?
I can do 51 sit-ups. And 39 squats.
This program is actually pretty fun so far. 5 reps a session...totally doable. And if in 6 weeks it works - WOW WOW WOW!
Anyone want to join me?
Monday, February 7, 2011
The "Big" Reveal
I have found a solace in training, just like I did back in 2008.
Saturday morning I followed up my newfound love of WTF (remember...TRX) with a 9 mile run with my friend Julie.
All of this running is keeping me sane and giving me an outlet for the full range of my emotions from sadness to anger to surrender to rage to exhaustion to confusion, back to sadness to hope to disillusionment...
When I start to feel overwhelmed, I just get on the treadmill. It's helping. My body hurts, which somehow makes the pain in my heart not the focal point every minute of the day. Thank god.
Our run Saturday was pretty amazing. 9 miles sounds so daunting, so impossible, until you do it. Then it feels, remarkably, doable. During the run, it just felt good. I absolutely hate running with other people...except Julie. We seem to run at the same pace and we have this cool ability to take turns being the pusher and the pushee, at just the right moments. We don't talk. We each have our own music cranking. It is sometimes such a relief to have someone right next to you, not talking. There is a comfort in having someone so close you could touch them, and yet you just travel in unison without ever saying a word.
Sometimes, silence is so much more powerful and honest than words.
In addition to running, tonight I hooked up the trainer and got back on the bike. Gasp. It's been over a year. The Black Stallion welcomed me back with dusty, yet open, arms. And 2 flat tires. All easily rectified with a few apologies. As I got back in the saddle, my 2008 IMWI sticker was staring up at me from my handlebar stem. #51.
I remember that journey well.
This one, I believe, will be even more memorable. The first was a journey to push myself. See what I'm made of. Show myself that no matter what I can't do, I can do this. No matter what I can't control, I can control this.
This time, it's a journey to heal myself. To somewhat return to myself, but also to reinvent myself. To embrace the emotional rollercoaster I'm on and hang on for the ride. To forgive the mistakes I've made. To not run away but instead to run in place until the raw parts are not as raw. To say, you can break me...but you cannot destroy me. To shout - you took a lot, but you will not take this away from me. To let go of certain things, and to tighten my grip on the right things. To steel my body, hopefully, instead of steeling my heart.
This is my new journey.
Can we keep it our little secret for just a little while longer?
Saturday morning I followed up my newfound love of WTF (remember...TRX) with a 9 mile run with my friend Julie.
All of this running is keeping me sane and giving me an outlet for the full range of my emotions from sadness to anger to surrender to rage to exhaustion to confusion, back to sadness to hope to disillusionment...
When I start to feel overwhelmed, I just get on the treadmill. It's helping. My body hurts, which somehow makes the pain in my heart not the focal point every minute of the day. Thank god.
Our run Saturday was pretty amazing. 9 miles sounds so daunting, so impossible, until you do it. Then it feels, remarkably, doable. During the run, it just felt good. I absolutely hate running with other people...except Julie. We seem to run at the same pace and we have this cool ability to take turns being the pusher and the pushee, at just the right moments. We don't talk. We each have our own music cranking. It is sometimes such a relief to have someone right next to you, not talking. There is a comfort in having someone so close you could touch them, and yet you just travel in unison without ever saying a word.
Sometimes, silence is so much more powerful and honest than words.
In addition to running, tonight I hooked up the trainer and got back on the bike. Gasp. It's been over a year. The Black Stallion welcomed me back with dusty, yet open, arms. And 2 flat tires. All easily rectified with a few apologies. As I got back in the saddle, my 2008 IMWI sticker was staring up at me from my handlebar stem. #51.
I remember that journey well.
This one, I believe, will be even more memorable. The first was a journey to push myself. See what I'm made of. Show myself that no matter what I can't do, I can do this. No matter what I can't control, I can control this.
This time, it's a journey to heal myself. To somewhat return to myself, but also to reinvent myself. To embrace the emotional rollercoaster I'm on and hang on for the ride. To forgive the mistakes I've made. To not run away but instead to run in place until the raw parts are not as raw. To say, you can break me...but you cannot destroy me. To shout - you took a lot, but you will not take this away from me. To let go of certain things, and to tighten my grip on the right things. To steel my body, hopefully, instead of steeling my heart.
This is my new journey.
Can we keep it our little secret for just a little while longer?
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Anger, Redirected
I had a bad day.
It started out bad. I woke up grumpy. As I neared the office, the mood turned into crabby.
It had a little to do with the abundance of non-snow-loving vehicles that got in my way on the road today, a bit to do with my M&M coffee mug leaking the much-needed caffeine all over my gloves during the commute, and more to do with just having a rough spot in the whole heartbreak ordeal.
Work didn't pick up the mood. Some might argue, it got worse. Ok, I would argue it did. I know it did. It was a tough day all the way around.
On my drive home, I was fighting back the tears of frustration. Why am I not in a better place with my emotional state? Why am I not over the heartache? Why is it so hard sometimes to keep my chin up? Why? Why? Why?
I decided to have a bottle...I mean, glass, of wine, when I got home to wash the day away.
Instead, I got on the treadmill. First, I raced through the house..threw food in the general direction of the cats...(I am not a cat lady, I only have 2...they are part of my furry family)...and got dressed for the 'mill. Before I changed my mind.
I ran the absolute hell out of the 3 miles I had on the schedule today. I actually cranked the treadmill up to 8.0 mph tonight. The treadmill didn't know what to do. It had never gone that fast. It was confused. It was laboring. I was angry, and kept going. It responded with...HELL YEAH, LET'S DO THIS.
You know what?
I feel BETTER. Damn the vulnerability. Damn the tears. Damn the road that got me here. Damn the bad day.
I can go to 8 on the treadmill.
TAKE THAT, BAD DAY.
It started out bad. I woke up grumpy. As I neared the office, the mood turned into crabby.
It had a little to do with the abundance of non-snow-loving vehicles that got in my way on the road today, a bit to do with my M&M coffee mug leaking the much-needed caffeine all over my gloves during the commute, and more to do with just having a rough spot in the whole heartbreak ordeal.
Work didn't pick up the mood. Some might argue, it got worse. Ok, I would argue it did. I know it did. It was a tough day all the way around.
On my drive home, I was fighting back the tears of frustration. Why am I not in a better place with my emotional state? Why am I not over the heartache? Why is it so hard sometimes to keep my chin up? Why? Why? Why?
I decided to have a bottle...I mean, glass, of wine, when I got home to wash the day away.
Instead, I got on the treadmill. First, I raced through the house..threw food in the general direction of the cats...(I am not a cat lady, I only have 2...they are part of my furry family)...and got dressed for the 'mill. Before I changed my mind.
I ran the absolute hell out of the 3 miles I had on the schedule today. I actually cranked the treadmill up to 8.0 mph tonight. The treadmill didn't know what to do. It had never gone that fast. It was confused. It was laboring. I was angry, and kept going. It responded with...HELL YEAH, LET'S DO THIS.
You know what?
I feel BETTER. Damn the vulnerability. Damn the tears. Damn the road that got me here. Damn the bad day.
I can go to 8 on the treadmill.
TAKE THAT, BAD DAY.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Still me
Heartbreak can take a lot away from you.
This one took my trust. It took my tears, a lot of my tears. It took my sense of self. It took my security. It took my heart and crushed it. It took my laugh. It took my dreams and turned them upside down. It took my smile. It took my peace.
Today, it still takes my peace, trust, and security.
Yes, it took a lot from me. Yet, everyday I am regaining a little bit of me back. I am re-finding myself. I am grasping on to who I used to be, and who I want to be after this is over. In the midst of heartbreak, when everything reminds you of something you want to forget...it's hard to find the safe zone. It's difficult to find neutral ground.
Upon thinking, here are a few things it didn't even touch:
- My favorite movie is still 'Starsky & Hutch'. Every single time it is on, it is mine and mine alone. I know each line and recite it as if I am the only one who has ever seen it.
- I love my truck. I have a Honda Element, and no matter what mood I am in, I feel better when I get in it. It's not fancy. It's not a Range Rover. It's mine. I picked it. I love it. It's mine.
- I am returning to triathlon. I discovered it on my own, I fell in love with it, I turned away from it, and now I'm back. It makes me happy. It helps make me whole.
- I listen to music. All the time. Songs have meanings for me and are truly the soundtrack to my life. A lot of the songs I am listening to right now, I cannot reveal on this blog. Some things are just too personal.
- I live to make people laugh. I learned this from my dad. My sister has mastered this art. Seeing people laugh, especially at my expense, is the heart and soul of who I am.
- I like being social. I miss being social. I will get back to hanging out with more people soon.
- I still have hope. For love. For life. For peace. For contentment. For satisfaction. For peace. For me.
There's more, I know there is.
As I continue to heal, I am starting to become more thankful for the parts of me that I still have. I am thankful for the friends who have remained by my side. I am thankful that no matter what this hurt took away, parts cannot be touched.
I am still me. One day at a time.
This one took my trust. It took my tears, a lot of my tears. It took my sense of self. It took my security. It took my heart and crushed it. It took my laugh. It took my dreams and turned them upside down. It took my smile. It took my peace.
Today, it still takes my peace, trust, and security.
Yes, it took a lot from me. Yet, everyday I am regaining a little bit of me back. I am re-finding myself. I am grasping on to who I used to be, and who I want to be after this is over. In the midst of heartbreak, when everything reminds you of something you want to forget...it's hard to find the safe zone. It's difficult to find neutral ground.
Upon thinking, here are a few things it didn't even touch:
- My favorite movie is still 'Starsky & Hutch'. Every single time it is on, it is mine and mine alone. I know each line and recite it as if I am the only one who has ever seen it.
- I love my truck. I have a Honda Element, and no matter what mood I am in, I feel better when I get in it. It's not fancy. It's not a Range Rover. It's mine. I picked it. I love it. It's mine.
- I am returning to triathlon. I discovered it on my own, I fell in love with it, I turned away from it, and now I'm back. It makes me happy. It helps make me whole.
- I listen to music. All the time. Songs have meanings for me and are truly the soundtrack to my life. A lot of the songs I am listening to right now, I cannot reveal on this blog. Some things are just too personal.
- I live to make people laugh. I learned this from my dad. My sister has mastered this art. Seeing people laugh, especially at my expense, is the heart and soul of who I am.
- I like being social. I miss being social. I will get back to hanging out with more people soon.
- I still have hope. For love. For life. For peace. For contentment. For satisfaction. For peace. For me.
There's more, I know there is.
As I continue to heal, I am starting to become more thankful for the parts of me that I still have. I am thankful for the friends who have remained by my side. I am thankful that no matter what this hurt took away, parts cannot be touched.
I am still me. One day at a time.
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