IronMin

Well, that's a whole lot of truth...

2012-01-12T21:26:00.000-06:00

Daily Extended Horoscope for January 12, 2012 (Today)Aries3/21 – 4/19No one is standing in your way anymore -- it's just you in charge of your life, and it's time you realized that you have more power than you have ever had before. This could be a frightening realization for you, but if you are afraid of anything, you should fear inaction the most. Push forward in a major way in at least one area of your life today. Make a change that you never felt you could make before, and you will get a taste of what's possible.

Day Date: Times Square

2012-01-11T21:29:00.000-06:00

This weekend I went on a date.

With my city.

And, I am not afraid to say it - I am in love. Insert hearts, flowers, candy, and candlelit dinner here.

I am short on words because I have a 4:30am wake-up call to head to Toronto for work in the morning, so I bring you instead...a few snaps from an amazing date.

I tried to tell you.

It's amazing that I can go to the M&M store anytime I want. Which is a lot.

The goods: Dark Chocolate and Pretzel M's

Times Square was - wait for it - packed.

Lots of people hate it. I think it has such an energy.

I love that there are bleachers. For people watching.

Since it was 50 degrees, even the Naked Cowboy came out of hibernation.

My favorite live music in the square. It's just so...pretty and effortless.

Okra Slime

2012-01-08T18:30:00.001-06:00

For how little I know about life, love, and the pursuit of happiness...I know even less about cooking. My signature dishes include:

Pouring soup from a can and heating it up
Steaming vegetables in my Oster double-decker steamer
Any form of pasta in a box with any form of tomato sauce in jar
Sandwiches
A bowl of cereal

Lately I've been working on smoothies, since I have finally removed the Magic Bullet that I bought 3 months ago from the box. I am a smoothie trainwreck. I combine all kinds of fruit together with milk or water and almost always something overpowers the other little fruits or I find that the acidic levels of one is just killing the rest. Jamba Juice will not be hiring me in my lifetime.

Tonight for dinner I made chicken breast (put them in a pan, added water, covered it and let it rip for 10 minutes) and okra. I bought frozen okra from Peapod, which is a mini-tangent in and of itself. I went through the whole online setup process, purchased and had my groceries delivered. I'm still in a bit of disbelief. I love grocery shopping. As a food marketer, time in the store is often research and discovery. I can spend an hour wandering around a store easily. However, grocery shopping in the city is a bit of a challenge. The bodegas carry things in jars and cans I have never heard of. "Fresh" veggies and produce are wrapped in saran wrap and look anything but. Carrying the groceries back to my apartment is a feat of strength and balance I am not trained for.

So I tried Peapod. Inevitably, the items I was most excited about turned out to be out-of-stock when the groceries arrived. However, the toilet paper made it unscathed so I can't be a total complainer.

Anyway, I steamed the frozen okra because that's pretty much all I know how to do and imagine my surprise and horror when I retrieved it from the streamer and it came with long, icky trails of slime.

Yuck.

Like clear snot.

See it hanging off the spoon?

I had to take this one to the Google. The Google told me "okra slime" is actually normal. I had no idea. Wow. Okra 1, IronMin 0. Well played okra. Well played.

I ate it and enjoyed it anyway. My cooking is so functional and basic, I chalk this one up as learning fun new things that apparently everyone else already knew. Now when okra comes up in conversation, as it often does, I will have an interesting anecdote to throw on the fire.

Okra Slime. Sounds like an awesome screenplay...

Speechless...

2012-01-05T21:47:00.001-06:00

This, is what I witnessed on the train today.

I'm afraid I am out of words.

Pictures from a glorious Central Park run

2012-01-04T21:18:00.000-06:00

One of the best parts of where I live in NYC is that I am only 3 blocks south of Central Park by Columbus Circle. Running in the park reminds me of Madison - not the scenery - but more the sheer number of people running, jogging, rollerblading (yes some people still do that) and walking. In a city where 90% of the time I see women navigating sidewalks and the subway in heels and the ever-so-in this year faux fur jacket, and men in suits with perfectly polished Italian leather shoes...it is a comfort to see people doing what I am more familiar with - donning the tights & Brooks and sweating it out while looking a little less glamorous.

That said, running in Central Park still carries a certain level of fashionista...and I have found myself coveting many a hot running ensemble on my trips inside.

Since snow has only hit the city once so far this year, on October 29th of all days, it's still very much fall here. So I bring you a few pictures from my last 5 miler in Central Park with some of my favorite discoveries so far.

This is how I find my way back home...

Near and far misses

2012-01-03T19:55:00.001-06:00

I had one of those days when you can feel how tired you are - right down to your bones. When it is a conscious effort just to inhale. And behind my eyes it felt as though a small fire was smoldering.

It's the first day back into "routine" after a nice two week vacation. Two weeks where I came to realize I enjoy doing a whole lot of nothing. If I want to. And apparently, I did.

Around the office, I recognized the same zombie stare I was locked in. It probably also didn't help that today is the coldest day NYC has seen since our crazy, unforecasted snow blizzard on October 29. Everyone I talked to said the same thing...When I woke up this morning, I was so sure I was ill I nearly called in sick.

No, we're not sick. It's just cruel reality smacking you awake right when you started to truly get into that oh-so-luxurious dream.

I was so tired I almost missed my stop on the train. I was literally sitting there, in same zombie-like state when I noticed a man standing in front of me, staring down at me. You start to see the same people on the train after awhile, and apparently this guy knew it was my stop and was simply waiting patiently for me to figure it out and get up so he could get my seat.

There is another way to do this Mr. Seat Stealer. It's called "using your words". I guess either technique works because he captured my seat as I barely made it off...just barely "bewaring the closing doors."

When I'm tired I also get a little quote-happy. I'd apologize but hey, at least I'm sparing you one of my favorite quote violations...my infamous and almost always misused air quotes. So, you're welcome.

You're in for a double treat because not only is this post about being tired, but it's also about being sore. Remember my lament yesterday that I must not be doing P90x right because nothing hurt?

Scratch that.

I can't lift my arms above my shoulders. Without wincing. Whining. Then crying.

Yet, I went back for more today. Day 2. Plyometrics. At the end, Tony Horton does this hip-hip-hooray type move where he throws his hands up to high five and celebrate. I forgot where I was, how I was feeling, and that I live alone. I was so exalted that we were done I threw mine up too to high five no one...

Missed

Then lost my balance and fell down.

This is why I am doing this alone in my living room.

So this is where I leave you - with 2 near misses...and one far. I am missing someone today. When I wander around NYC and spend hours watching the faces and searching the eyes of random strangers as I people-watch, I imagine that we are all missing someone, all the time. Whether it's on the surface or just below, or buried deep in the subconscious, isn't there always someone we are thinking about? I'm missing someone far away, who is celebrating something very important and special to them today. I can't be there, but my thoughts are. Sometimes, that's all life let's us do.

Day 1...89 to go

2012-01-02T17:31:00.000-06:00

Today I officially embarked on a new fitness journey.

Day 1 of P90x.

I finally broke down and bought the DVDs over the holiday break and since then I have been simultaneously dreading and looking forward to today. Today was Arms & Back with a little Ab Ripper thrown in.

Today was also further confirmation that I severely lack physical coordination and have literally no ability to tell my right from my left - especially when trying to mirror an extremely buff, way too enthusiastic workout maestro on my TV. A TV that generally doesn't hurt me. Until today.

But wait, there's more.

I cannot do a single pull-up. Not a single one. I can't even fake it with the chair. By day 90 I better be zipping off 20 of those suckers. Despite the odds, I remain ever so optimistic.

Nothing really hurts yet. That's probably because I'm not doing it right. We'll see tomorrow.

I am a little nervous about kicking this new routine off. Not for the obvious reason that I fear I will get so incredibly ripped that friends and strangers may mistake me for a bodybuilder. I mean, that's clearly a concern but I have a darker, more likely outcome - I won't stick with it. So I am using the blog to keep me accountable. As soon as I can figure it out, I'm putting some sort of P90x tracker on here so I can't do what I usually do...quietly just stop talking about whatever it is that I was so excited to start but then embarrassingly quit in midstream.

So here we are. New Year. New workout plan. And after yesterday's purging post, I am in a surprisingly light and peaceful mood. Tomorrow it's back to work, and with my new plan I am scheduled to do P90x BEFORE I begin the commute to the office. THAT will be a true feat of strength.

you will be mine...

A New Year Cleanse

2012-01-01T18:08:00.001-06:00

I did some meaningful purging today. In honor of the beginning of the new year, I decided it was a good day to sift through the tangible memories I had been carrying with me - the words and memories I have spent the past year trying to understand, make sense of, resolve.

Note to self...there is never a good day to do this.

Yet, it had to be done. Some would argue, it was well overdue. I knew this moment would come as I had also come to realize that I couldn't carry the heaviness with me anymore.

Conducting my own private ritual of letting go of the past hurt like hell. It did exactly what I was afraid it would do - it dredged up a lot of pain, confusion, anxiety, and even tears. As I reread so much of what I had to let go of, it brought it all back to the forefront. In my heart I know he let go of this, and me, a very long time ago. That hurts too, but I have learned I cannot control what other people will say, do, or feel. I can only attempt to navigate my own world and do things like this in my own time. When I feel strong enough to do it. Even if it takes a year.

The digital age robs us of the grace of a moment like this. Clearing the past, removing what has been holding you back is almost anti-climatic when it is as simple as hitting delete. Something so simple still took every ounce of strength I have. I found solace in that I could be alone to do it and do it my way, as messy as it was.

I am sad. I am allowing myself to feel it. I am also in a bit of shock that I did it. I finally found the courage to put the past where it belongs and go into the new year lighter. As of today I am carrying only what I truly need right now - family, friends, and what's inside me. A friend asked me what I wanted to see happen personally for me this year and I said without hesitation...I just want to be. Just be. No complicated matters of the heart. It's a relief to say it, accept it, and be excited about it.

This was a really big step today and I believe it sets the tone for the new year. Let's really start writing the next chapter, shall we?

2012

2012-01-01T00:00:00.000-06:00

Happy New Year!

2011-12-31T17:33:00.001-06:00

Wow. I love NYC. I am truly in love with this city.

I live about 13 blocks from Times Square and already, at 5pm ET, the revelers are lined up all the way to my street. In preparation for the holiday this evening, I stopped to get my nails done and had to show my ID and get through 4 different security checkpoints to get back to my apartment.

I wanted to take pictures from my rooftop, on the 32nd floor, but unfortunately the roof has been secured and sealed. Security is pretty tight for this event.

The weather is an exceptional 51 degrees tonight which encourages even more participation. Outside my apartment window I can hear the cheers and horns. (they should really pace themselves) How fun!

I won't be down there in the craziness - opting instead to venture further away from the crowds and into the West Village for a wonderful dinner with friends.

I leave you with a few pictures of the festivities...

Broadway & 55th this morning

The traffic control on its way in at 11am

Barricades between 55th and 56th at 5pm

The scene outside my apartment

Happy 2012 Everyone! Be safe out there!

Just Three Goals

2011-12-27T17:21:00.003-06:00

I am sitting on a plane in Detroit, delayed at least an hour because LaGuardia isn't letting anyone land right now. All around me, the Christmas cheer seems to have given way to something else...something less cheerful. Maybe it is the sadness that creeps in when leaving family after the holiday celebration. Or it could be the mounting stress of returning to reality. Or perhaps yet, it's the quiet reflection that sets in as the freshly made memories do the same.

I am sitting here, in the dark, feeling...hopeful.

Not only do I have so much to be thankful for - family who I love dearly, friends I couldn't live without, and countless blessings - but I also have so much to look forward to. If 2011 was all about hanging on for dear life as everything around me changed, 2012 is a self-decreed year of exploration for me. A discovery of myself and with careful planning, a year of paying forward at least some portion of the kindness and generosity that has been shown to me.

I have 3 goals for this upcoming year:

Go places, try new things...with the curiosity and confidence of a child (and not an adult
fully aware of all that could go embarrassingly wrong)

Give. In whatever way the situation calls for. Give time. Give focus. Give a hand. Give a hug. Share what I can tangibly give with those who have not.

Write about all of it, and continue to invest in writing more.

That's it. Simple. This year, I just want to be a better person. Sport and working out will be a big part of it, but more the foundation. I'll be running, doing P90x, yoga, and dance - all of which I am very excited about. And maybe, if I can find a pool, one triathlon this year. The big things will revolve around the 3 goals however. After a year of trying to heal and find the light in my eyes, this next year will be about really trying to take that and find a way to share it.

I am so full of hope.

Yes, and...

2011-12-22T20:54:00.000-06:00

When I first moved to NYC I didn’t know where to start. After successfully finding and procuring my apartment (a story for another time), when I moved in I had about 3 things:

an aerobed
a towel
a few changes of clothes

Somehow I made it for a month until I could get the rest of my life moved here. I have no idea how.

Needless to say, I had nothing to do in my apartment so I ventured out and explored the city instead.

One of the most interesting quotes I remember after I first arrived was this: “Don’t wait until you are ‘settled’ in NYC before you go out, make friends, and do things. You will never be settled and a year will go by and you will be lost.”

I don’t remember the author, but it stuck with me.

So I did just that. I embraced the city. I decided to take some risks. Risk #1, I signed up for a beginner improv class.

I talked myself in and out of attending the first session. At work in NJ, facing the 1.5 hr commute back into the city for a 7:00 start, I tried convincing myself that I couldn’t make it. That I was too tired (likely true). That this was a stupid idea, that people would laugh at me and not in the good way when you are really funny but in the bad way when you are totally inept and ridiculous…I had a million excuses. I went anyway.

When I arrived everyone was sitting in a circle. I don’t know why the circle was started, but I pulled up a chair and waited with 11 other people for the instructor to arrive. I was very uneasy, but noticed that around me people were also fidgeting and avoiding eye contact. Could they be as nervous as I was?

Turns out – yes. Also turns out – improv was a very good idea. I had a blast.

We did the exercises I recognized as “icebreakers” in the business world, and some that went beyond. I learned about being more agreeable – always trying to elevate what your partner or team is doing with ‘yes and…’ No matter how silly or confusing the skit becomes, you just say to yourself – ok, let’s do that too!

I learned to watch the nonverbal cues of my partner. Recognize when I am being too monopolizing, and notice when they may be struggling so I can jump in to help.

I tried, very hard, to learn how not to want to curl up into a ball and hide when whatever I was doing fell flat. Like bombed. Crickets.

Ouch.

I grew more and more excited to go to class. I liked the people I met there, and thankfully because of a game where you had to add a descriptor and a gesture to your name – I remembered all of their names. I was “head banging Metallica Mindee” (insert head banging move)

Hey – there were other silly ones, like “Mudpie throwing Melissa” and “Occupy Wall Street Drumming Dan” (then we had to make drumming motions and sounds). It was awesome.

I want to take more classes. I went to the Peoples Improv Theater for the 1^st class, and think I’ll go back. After Improv 1, you put on a show for your friends and classmates.

I won’t be telling anyone. ;)

To the next step...

2011-12-16T20:03:00.000-06:00

When I was 13 my Mom gave me a ceramic plaque for my bedroom. I'm sure I still have it somewhere in the myriad boxes of "mementos" I couldn't get rid of in the move to NYC. I shed A LOT of stuff, but there's always still A LOT more.

The plaque was round with a blue background. The inscription in the middle was something I scarcely could understand at the time, but even now, it floats it's way back to me often. It's fairly common:

Life is a journey,

Not a destination

In it's simplest form I get what it means. What it has meant at various points in my life is not that simple.

What a journey I've been on this past year...and what a tremendous adventure the last 3 months in NYC has provided me.

At this time last year, if you reach into some of the archives, you can almost feel the crushing sadness that was emanating from every single part of me. This week marks the moment when everything came crashing down around me. It also marks the moment when I was forced to start to a new chapter.

Because looking back has proven time and time again to be futile and destructive, I am looking forward. I was forced to start a new chapter against everything I wanted. I started on this new path kicking and screaming (and crying) but as I look out my apartment window tonight, in the greatest city in the world, I feel...

Strong.

Certainly, not always. But definitely, more often.

I thought there would be a magical moment when I would be "healed". I thought there would be an overriding peace when I arrived in NYC. Instead, everything this past year has taught me has been another step forward...not a final stop.

I am still settling into this new life but I feel incredibly lucky to be here - in this city, in this life stage, in this moment.

Strong.

Well I have an address...

2011-09-22T19:18:00.000-05:00

West 55th Street.

NY.

As in NY, NY.

And I have stories, but first things first - I am officially a resident of NYC.

I fluctuate between being deeply sad about leaving Madison (and more importantly, the people who have been there for me, at my side, through some of the most challenging and heartbreaking moments of my life) and utter disbelief that I am finally moving to the city I have wanted to live in since I was 18.

Which was a long time ago, by the way.

This IronMin...I don't really know her yet but at the same time - she has been in here all the time.

Not the Treadmill...No!

2011-08-29T21:00:00.000-05:00

Tonight I sold my treadmill.

It's official...I am moving to Manhattan. No treadmills are welcome in the apartments of Manhattan. The new IronMin must go to the gym like everyone else.

I am sad. I really loved that treadmill. Loved it so much that when the guy who ended up buying it was taking it for a spin, my heart hurt.

I was watching someone else on my treadmill. It was like walking in on your significant lover with another.

It.did.not.compute.

I HATE change in a way that I have finally accepted in my late 30's. I am an Aries so I also do not tolerate predictable but at the same time...I hate change. If you figure that out, call me.

This change is hard. Harder than I thought.

There are moments when I feel I am outside this life, looking in, and someone is making all the decisions. Sell this, throw away that, go find a new place to live...it is happening in slow motion at 200 mph.

Buckle up.

Out with the old...

2011-08-27T20:43:00.001-05:00

...in with the scary.

I am in the midst of purging almost everything I own, in preparation for a major downsize to an apartment in Manhattan. This is both scary, and totally liberating.

Today I had a garage sale. Selling stuff, stuff that used to be so important to me, stuff that has memories attached to it, put me in a very vulnerable state. As I watched people come and go...some almost turning their nose up to my stuff - it hurt.

And it also didn't.

Stuff doesn't define me. Or you. We get so wrapped up in all of it that I believe it becomes difficult to separate ourselves from it. I hate stuff. You wouldn't know that from the amount I have. I wish I could just throw a few items in a backpack and travel the entire world that way. Just essential items, a camera, and a journal.

In reality, I have accumulated so much because when someone gives me something, I am so grateful I cannot part with it. I appreciate it that someone has thought of me...and I can't just give that away. Yet, the thing isn't as important as the thought. And the thought is a lot easier to carry in this life.

I am scared on so many levels right now...about the move, about all of the change, about finding a place and selling a place, about letting go of the past and embracing the future. I am scared about what I am leaving. The range of emotion actually occurs on a minute-by-minute basis.

So, there's a big part of this whole process that I just have to be cold to. I have to shut off emotion and just focus on tasks. Checking things off lists. Not thinking about that moment when I find myself sitting on the floor of my NYC apartment (sans furniture) - alone.

This is what defines us in life instead of stuff. Fear. Courage. Taking risks. Moving forward.

It could be an utter disaster. Or it could be the best thing I have ever done. I don't know what the future holds, but I know this - the people in my life, the ones who love me like I love them, will stay in my life no matter where I go. They are the substance of what defines me, and they travel with me everywhere...

in my heart.

I warned you there'd be changes

2011-08-15T20:55:00.000-05:00

It's been in the works for a long time...

And now it's official.

I am moving to New York City. Start the new job September 12.

Hello Lover...

Harbor

2011-07-27T20:43:00.000-05:00

I woke up

2011-07-27T20:27:00.000-05:00

From the archives. I wrote this a few months ago when I was finding my way through and am finally strong enough to share it now.

I woke up screaming.

Yet your name escapes my lips

While my mind is caught in your memory

And your lingering pain is like iron on my soul

I woke up crying

My tears filled the room like red roses

Your infinite emptiness is like a vacuum

Sucking the salt from the air and my breath

I woke up fighting

Struggling against the assault of your love

Pushing your shadow away

Cursing your lies and hurtful words

I woke up breathing

In and out, to the gentle sun coming in the window

Mind comforting body, consoling heart

You cannot make new memories for me to hate

I woke up trying

To remember the last time you walked out

The last time your words shred my soul

And I could no longer see your eyes

I woke up grateful

You will never hurt me again

You cannot find my heart anymore

You will never hear my voice at you again

I woke up.

I am thankful I woke up.

I woke up.

Annie

2011-07-26T22:40:00.000-05:00

She stole my Hippo Pillow Pet.

I love hippos. The pillow was a favorite. She doesn't look sorry. And she can't sleep now if it's not on the floor waiting for her.

She greets me at the door by bumping her nose into my leg then chasing her tail.

She lays in her bed forlorn when she knows I'm getting ready to leave.

She follows me into the basement to watch me do laundry.

She races me back up the basement stairs and sometimes lets me win.

Even though it happens every single time she walks past the oldest cat, she is still genuinely shocked and hurt that the cat smacks her on the top of her head and hisses at her relentlessly.

She could eat the cat. She still chooses not to.

When I am in a bad mood, she gets anxious and chews on her bones - which makes me realize it upsets her so I try to relax.

When I cry, she nuzzles me until I stop.

She loves ice cubes.

She also loves cat food and the occasional litter box snack.

She will chase a rabbit halfway across the neighbor's yard...then come running back to apologize for her lack of control over herself.

And she'll do it again next time.

When she wants to go for a walk, she noses the leash on the stairs and looks at me in anticipation.

When she wants to go outside, she noses the bell on the backdoor.

She tolerates her brother who has no control, no manners, and (although I love him) low intelligence.

The other day I caught her giving the other cat a bath. And the cat was massaging her neck in turn. It made me melt.

She makes me laugh with her soulful eyes every day.

Her tail curls to the left, and when she walks, she sometimes leans that way too.

I am convinced she knows what I am saying when I talk to her about my day.

I recently watched her solve a problem when she realized I was going into the freezer to get ice cubes, but she already had a bone in her mouth...after walking back to her bed and back to me twice with the bone in her mouth she tilted her head, walked to her bed, dropped the bone...and came running back for the ice cube triumphantly. It was amazing.

She follows me everywhere and is always within 2 feet when I am home.

Last week, I found a lump on her stomach.

And with that, my own stomach turned.

Yesterday the vet said it was benign.

She can have my Hippo Pillow Pet.

She already has my heart.

The dying art of reading?

2011-07-18T19:38:00.000-05:00

Everyone is talking about the heat. I'm bucking the system.

I want to talk about Borders. It was a sad, sad day when they closed the Borders bookstore a mile from my house in Madison. I could wander that store for 4 hours on a weekday evening. It was heaven on earth. I'm a big fan of touching books, which sounds far dirtier than it really is. I still haven't adapted to my Kindle, using it only as a secondary means to an end when I am traveling and have no idea what kind of mood I will be in - what kind of reading I want to do.

Otherwise, I still buy books.

Clearly, I'm in the minority.

Borders announced today it is closing all stores, calling off the auction of what is remaining, and disappearing from the American landscape forever.

THIS, is a sad, sad day.

Borders feels like home partly because it is from home...Michigan. Born out of a used bookstore in Ann Arbor in 1971, it is an institution in that city. While not my favorite of all Borders stores, it was a worthy jaunt downtown to return to the mothership.

In an era of price shopping, going online for the best deal but using local merchants to browse and decide...I paid full price at Borders. I do the same thing for my running shoes/gear with the Fleet Feet in Madison. I am willing to pay more when I believe in the good of the place I am shopping. When the people know my name. When they make me feel like I'm home.

I realize the purchase of my Kindle probably contributed to this mess in some small way...this changing face of book buying and reading. However, I question whether this is even deeper than that. Are people reading anymore? I rarely see it. Book clubs are few and far between. The only time I actually see people with books is on a plane.

Is it just my perspective? What would we do if reading really did become as extinct as brick-and-mortar bookstores may become?

The art of writing

2011-07-12T19:11:00.000-05:00

It's been awhile. Damn I hate that. I am always writing in my head. It's just that sometimes life becomes so...ALIVE...and the writing slips. It's not that I don't write during these times - it's more that sometimes I just don't share that writing here. I can't not write...

In the past few weeks...

I wrote a letter to the boy who broke my heart. Then I tore it up.

I wrote another one. And it felt really, really good. I am finally in a place to tell him, without tears, without passion - what I feel about what he did to me. On paper at least.

I didn't tear it up, but I didn't do anything with it. The other, perhaps healthier part of this healing process is that I also realize...it doesn't matter. It absolutely does not matter.

I also wrote a note. To me. I do that sometimes when I need to remind myself of what I am grateful for. A reminder of how much I have to be thankful for. Every single time I write this note, whether it takes 5 minutes or an hour, it is so eye-opening.

Then I made a list of what I want to accomplish in the next 5 years. I love lists.

So that's what I've been writing when I haven't been writing here.

I was walking and talking and laughing with a friend at the Madison Art Fair Sunday, and we talked about creativity. For him, it is music. Playing instruments, making music. I thought about creativity in my life. I don't make things. I can't paint or sculpt. I take pictures but I am not talented. I can't draw. Or carve wood. I don't make anything...pretty or deep or insightful or otherwise.

But then I remembered - I write. It may not always be coherent, or good, or read-worthy, but it's what I do. It's my creative outlet. The way it fills my soul when I discover words and pull them together...writing is my art. And I am lucky to have friends on this blog who actually find the string of words worthy of reading. You are on my "I am grateful for" list.

I wonder, does everyone have a creative outlet? A way in which they create something, anything that wasn't there before them?

Brewers and Tigers...oh my!

2011-06-22T21:36:00.000-05:00

I have abandoned my plan to shower until I'm pruny-skinned. Unwillingly. However, believe me - I have used hot water in every feasible way over the last 24 hours.

Well, not really.

Isn't this always the case with life? We take so much for granted. Of course, paying a BOAT LOAD of money can sometimes bring the forgotten to the forefront, but then a day later...

It's all, yeah, I have hot water, don't make a big deal of it, whatever.

This morning, because I have a love for sleeping in that is both unhealthy and non-productive, I left myself a solid 30 minutes to workout before I had to go to work. And when I say work, I mean...I had to go in for a total of 3 meetings before we headed to Milwaukee for the annual Brewer's Game event.

Ok - I get it, this perhaps doesn't sound like a tough day at the office. I assure you, there have been many tough days that make a day like this not only a luxury...but also, a necessity. Lest you see us completely melt down in cube-land, rocking in the fetal position. Trust me, this day = good for us.

At any rate, 30 minutes meant 2 things: Treadmill and Intervals.

FUN!

I did 10 45 second intervals at 8.5mph, with 30 second rests. Incredible. I am not used to less than a 30 minute run but I am making a conscious and deliberate effort to focus on speed vs. endurance. I have 2 long races on the schedule: Waunafest 10 mile run at the end of July in Waunakee, WI, and the Madison Mini-Marathon (13.1 miles) at the end of August. In the meantime, I am trying for the first time in my life to be fast.

Speed has always eluded me. Is it mental? Are my legs too short? Bad form? Just born to be slow?

I've witnessed some very gazelle-like running from some very un-gazelle-like body structures...so it must just be a wall I need to break through. I'm trying.

After the amazing workout, I enjoyed a fully loaded Bloody Mary & a Miller Lite chaser at the ballgame. Wearing my Detroit Tigers sweatshirt. Sorry Milwaukee. My heart was officially given to the Tigers in 1984. I will always remember the names of those guys, and I still have the Topps baseball cards to prove my allegiance. I love live baseball...but I love my Tigers the most. I was 12 when they won the World Series, and my Dad let me stay up late to watch. Go Tigers!

Hot Water is Overrated

2011-06-21T09:45:00.000-05:00

I am getting a new hot water heater installed, as I type.

This may be the most expensive blog post ever. I should be charging you for reading it.

I suspected, since the house is almost 60 years old, that if the HWH is leaking out of the bottom...it is likely a goner. Suspicion confirmed.

Now believe me, when I saw the estimate for this ridiculous situation, I weighed the pros and cons of hot water. I mean, do we really NEED hot water? I still have electricity and I still have water...so I could perhaps heat the water myself.

Since paying bills and doing laundry don't appear to be priorities in my life, I figured I have abundant spare time to heat this water myself.

The repair guy astutely observed my hesitation. He could see I was carefully weighing my options. He knew I was on the cusp of living hot-water-free for the rest of my existence.

So he knocked $16 off the bill.

Imagine my gratefulness.

I gave him a look that suggested, among other things, he could do better than that. Fortunately, this was not missed by his superior customer service skill and his refined talent at reading people who are about to hand over a major credit card and kiss their life savings goodbye.

He accepted the mulligan, and miraculously found a $50 credit in his arsenal of tricks. Now I am upstairs listening to a calamity of sounds that could only be signs he is also ripping out all my of copper plumbing and perhaps even remodeling the basement.

One can only hope.

If I am not on blogger for a few days, it is because I am going to run this new hot water heater like it's my last days on earth and my final wish is to go all pruny-skinned from standing in the shower for hours on end. Since I am now officially broke, showering is about all I can afford to do.

Lifetime...the original reality TV

2011-06-19T21:00:00.000-05:00

After running 6 grueling, overheated miles Saturday, then shopping unsuccessfully for new kicks (my size is now on order), gorging myself on a Panera Strawberry something-or-other salad followed by a Rolo McFlurry (all I can say is - I'm not sorry. It was incredible. So worth it)...

I found myself on the couch sucked into a Lifetime movie.

As in "Lifetime, Television for Women"

Or, more adequately entitled, "Television for morons and the criminally insane"

Or perhaps for those of us who just need a gentle reminder that although we may occasionally feel like our lives suck, there are those out there who really have it much suckier.

Seriously - WHO writes these things? WHO? I am more than a little spooked by the likes of Stephen King and his very brilliant yet disturbing mind. But these Lifetime writers are on a whole new level. Which is exactly why we watch. Accidentally. On a Saturday afternoon.

In this particular melodrama, a beautiful woman, "sappily" married to a man who has clearly out-kicked his coverage but more than makes up for it with his almost complete lack of any life interest outside of protecting his beautiful wife from psychotic killers - contacts her ex-boyfriend from high school and meets up for a meal.

After the meal, he begins to stalk her as is the case in most jilted love situations. Threaten her life. You know, your typical psycho-ex behavior ranging from the prank call and anonymous email proclaiming she is a (insert female dog jargon here), to aiming a cross-bow at her head in the backyard, then attempting to run her over in a grocery store parking lot. Normal life in suburbia.

Of course, this has the makings of all the necessary elements of a Lifetime movie.

1) Suspected perpetrator is ALWAYS masked.

2) No one ever witnesses the alleged threat/attack.

3) Regardless of how long the stalker holds the line when placing the prank call, it is NEVER enough for the cops to track. Even with technology evolving through the decades, the call-tracing mechanism remains woefully underdeveloped. Such a shame for police everywhere.

4) The victim, despite numerous brushes with death, police involvement, and the annoying, doting husband, STILL finds herself doing the following:
a) Walking alone to her car late at night in a deserted parking garage
b) Following that strange noise she hears outside in the forest behind her isolated McMansion
C) Running errands in broad daylight as if nothing is wrong in her life because she will NOT be limited by ANY crazy killer stalking her, dammit.

5) Her husband is also NEVER with her when any of this happens, which...

6) Leads you to believe it is the husband who is really trying to kill her...

7) Until some strange woman/lawyer shows up on their doorstep saying she knows the stalker, actually helped get him off on a prior murder charge and out of the kindness of her heart-slash-tremendously guilty conscience she has found this poor couple and has traveled many miles to help them with their current predicament. ("If just one life can be spared it will all be worth it").

8) Which leads you to believe that the doting husband is having an affair with the beautiful-and-smart stranger and this woman is in on the whole thing, a la Double Jeopardy with Ashley Judge.

9) So, despite the fact that you have the mystery solved, you keep watching as lawyer chick and husband concoct a plot whereby victim wife is placed in harm's way "baiting" psycho high school ex until the cops miraculously arrive and arrest him, just in the nick of time, henceforth saving all of humanity...

10) And then - BAM - in typical Lifetime style, you NEVER saw this coming - in a dramatic and climatic scene the husband realizes the lawyer's name doesn't even exist, she's not really a lawyer...and then he breaks land-speed records getting to the abandoned warehouse where wife-lawyer-psycho ex are all together...and then WOW!

Turns out lawyer is the wife of the psycho ex, and she is the one stalking and trying to kill the innocent wife because her husband (psycho ex) has cheated on her in the past (another woman she also killed) and she is MAD AS HELL AND NOT GOING TO TAKE IT ANYMORE.

Awesome.

I dropped to my knees in shock, then shame...for once again, life is so much more predictable than a Lifetime movie.

And thank God for that.

Now back to your regularly scheduled suckiness.

I am who I am, I am who you are

2011-06-17T22:13:00.000-05:00

Tonight, in aroma-hot-yoga, which is 75 minutes of powerflow infused with essential oils and aromatherapy (doesn't that even sound amazing?)...the teacher hit us with this:

"You've spent too much time thinking about whatever it is that is blocking you. That person, or that situation, or that feeling. Let it go. Release it. Be in this moment. This is where you are. Let your thoughts be here."

What a huge relief when it is possible to really let go. Only in yoga does it happen for me. And only for the duration of that thought, or that session. When I leave, the euphoria lasts only a short time. Life just jumps right back in front of your vehicle...and you're slamming into something again.

When I leave hot yoga, I feel incredibly light, strong, and centered. Every muscle is working in unison to propel me forward with my head held high and shoulders square. It is ephemeral, but during this time, I am invincible.

Fast forward 10 blissful and enlightened minutes. I arrive home. The warming milk confirmed my earlier suspicion (dutifully forgotten during my yoga practice) that the refrigerator appears to be broken. Again. One of the dogs (I'm on to you Annie) "watered" the floor vs. the lawn. And when I headed in to take a much-needed shower, the bathroom mirror revealed that a ginormous zit has staked its claim of my chin. Seriously, your mother should warn you that pimples will inevitably be a lifelong inconvenience. Even when you are 39.

Yes. I slammed back into life and it left some body damage. It almost always does.

Sometimes I just wish for 1 whole day where everything falls into place and goes right, or at the very least, nothing blows up. I know I'm not alone in this. And I know that isn't really the intent or purpose of life. Yet I still dream of this utopian day.

The teacher closed class with a great song/chant by Guru Singh that I thought I would share here. The lyrics that struck me were:

I am who I am. That is that. I am who I am. That is that. I am who I am. Thank God I am.
I am who I am. That is that. I am who you are, looking back. You are who I am, can you imagine that?

This journey of self-acceptance and dare I say it - love - is full of twists and turns. With life never letting up. But we are all on this journey together. We are all inching forward, learning to love ourselves and each other. Unconditionally. Even it hurts. (and it will hurt)

RAGNAR, Not-so-race-report

2011-06-12T21:03:00.000-05:00

Year 3 of RAGNAR behind me...

What a great adventure. Running non-stop from Madison to Chicago. 190 miles. 28 hours. 2 vans.

This year we had 5 of the 6 in our van returning, with a new person - Stacy. It was awesome to literally pick up some of the same conversations from last year, while also making new jokes, memories, and van-isms.

Here's a quick snapshot of the start - this year we were Van 1 with a start time of 10am:

As the morning progressed, we started writing some of our "lessons learned"/"van-isms" on the back of our not-so-15-passenger van...

Then it rained. And we accidentally used our rear window wipers...

So now, I bring you, in written form vs. pictorial evidence - a few priceless "Van-isms" from the relay:

- Chaffing is overrated

- Serrated knives do not cut skin (later we changed our stance on this issue to "Serrated knives do not cut skin WELL")

- My aim is not so good from the van to the port-a-potty (discovered when we felt the bathroom was just TOO.FAR.AWAY)

- Conversation after our 1st legs, while we were on break and van 2 was running...
   Me: "Can we stop at the steaming pot?"
   Chris (driving): "Sure. You need a port-a-potty?"
   Me: "No! The steaming pot is the coffee shop we just passed. I need a coffee"
   Chris: "Ohhhh..."

- Enterprise thinks this is a 15-passenger van. (2nd year in a row Enterprise issues left the team 1 big white van short. This year it was because someone got into an accident with it the day before it was ours)

- Exchange point, meeting Van 2 as they take off...
   Matt: "How was your runs?"
   Me: "You realize that question would be totally inappropriate and rather gross outside of this relay, right?"

- Conversation at 11pm...
   Me: "I passed a lot of people on that leg"
   Stacy: "Yeah, a lot of people are tired and just giving up."
   Me: "Oh good, I thought I was just getting faster. What a relief"

- Looking at the relay book with maps and distances...
   Ryan, to van: "My third leg is the hardest and the longest"
   Van: Stunned silence....then someone uttered..."I bet it is"

- At breakfast, after our 3rd leg has been run, looking at a 5 hour wait before van 2 finishes and we head back to Madison...
   One of us (we will never admit who): "Let's just text the other van, tell them we are heading home now, and turn off our phones"

Now of course, we would NEVER do that. But 26 hours without sleep and at least 15 miles of running completely eliminates the edit function between your brain and your mouth and YOU.ARE.SO.TIRED, you would give up anything to just crawl into your own bed.

- One of the quotes on a van in the parking lot...
   "We are the fast girls your momma warned you about"

- One of the girls, lamenting this observation as we waited for a runner to arrive at the transition..."It's just so hard to know when he's going to come"

- Me to Johanna at one of the transition points, watching a male runner come in...
   Me: "Is he just wearing a jock-strap under that tutu?
   Pause.
   Johanna: "Um, yes, it would appear so..."
   Both of us, in unison: "Oh gross..."
   Later, "How did he run in that?!"

Here we are, at the finish line...tired, hungry, happy, tired, stinky...

Stacy and Chris, taking a nap in the "Party Zone"

Jamie, kicking back with a Goose Island and her re-newed NYC accent

Ryan and Johanna, still smiling after 28 hours of no sleep...

Me, also kicking back with a Goose Island, just my midwest accent

Chapstick sampling...

Finish line. Cold, again! But so pretty with views of Lake Michigan in the background.

More pictures of the entire team coming soon! For now, I still have sleep to catch up on. And my body is a little sore from the 15.4 miles!

Bacon-to-Biscuits

2011-06-09T20:12:00.000-05:00

It's been a crazy week for me professionally. I am not only trying to do my normal job, but I am also leading the United Way campaign and this was one of the busiest weeks of the year for that as we prepare for our annual online auction that kicks off next week. I love it, I believe in it, and I'm happy to do it. But I am worn out.

Today, however, was my Friday. {Insert Smile}

Tomorrow morning at 8:30am I am off to embark on my 3rd RAGNAR relay from Madison to Chicago.

1 team (note the title of this post), 2 vans, 12 runners...24 to 30 hours of running (you just never know what you will encounter).

Sweat. Laughter. Exhaustion. Stink. An hour or two of sleep (if we're lucky) under the streetlamps in a school parking lot. More laughter. Driving. Running. Eating. Sponge baths. Story swapping. Cheering. High-fiving. More stink.

Group finish line.

Medal.

More High-fives.

Home.

Beer.

A great experience every time. I'm running 15.4 miles over 3 legs this time and I am SO excited. Literally, can't wait to get the slap bracelet and start my first run. Bring.it.on.

"Race report" to follow...

But pictures? We'll see. ;)

Go Bacon-to-Biscuits!!! Let the fun begin...

For the love of viral video...

2011-06-08T19:32:00.001-05:00

Next to the latest SNL digital short with Lady Gaga, this is just about the funniest video I've seen in ages.

And I don't even own a mini van.

Or a Toyota.

Or kids.

Enjoy anyway. I did.

Window to my soul

2011-06-06T21:00:00.000-05:00

Every morning, well after the initial alarm notes fill the room...and somewhere between the 2nd and 3rd hit of the snooze button, I look out my window and take inventory.

The ritual began when I was in the midst of the emotional pain of a break-up and subsequent betrayal and it was an essential way to remember. Sleep and dreams (even nightmares) had a wonderful way of altering my reality. When I awoke, sometimes my mind played tricks on me and I thought, for a brief moment, that this was not real. This could not possibly be happening.

Sleep was really the only reprieve from thinking and spinning and hurt and confusion and anger. It didn't always provide an escape - there were so many times in the first few months that sleep just allowed repressed memories to rise to the surface and I would awake in the middle of the night screaming or crying or even sweating. Other times, however, it was pure relief. Yet even in those blessed nights of utter blackness, it felt like during the night someone slipped the bill under the door leaving me to reconcile the final charges in the morning. Over and over. Forget. Remember. Forget. Remember. Until eventually it became the fabric of my being and not this crazy, unreal dark cloud hanging over my head.

From my bed I would look out the window at the treetops, the sky, and think...the days just keep coming. The sun just keeps rising. Night gives way to day, and with each day I took another step toward getting stronger.

Some things get easier. Some things haven't changed at all. Yet there is a strange comfort in keeping the ritual. In taking the moment before I start my day to just be in the moment, I breathe in a new form of peace.

In taking inventory, I do a quick checklist of what I've lost...him, a fierce yet simplistic belief in the notion of soulmates, blind trust, faith in an "all in" kind of love, and a somewhat innocent view of people and the world.

Today I consciously focus on doing a longer checklist of what I have, and what I've gained...rekindled trust in the power of friendships, love of my time just hanging out with my girlfriends, a growing comfort in my own skin, rediscovery of the parts of my life I neglected for a long time, a joy in the most basic of things like watching my dog's tail wag or breathing deeply, and an evolving self-forgiveness that I hope continues to unfold.

In other words, I am grateful for what I have because that list, for all of us, is so much longer than what we miss or lack or feel we have lost. So much is good and it is so easy to focus on the bad...

My window is my center. Do you have a window?

Wear it proudly

2011-05-31T21:05:00.000-05:00

It's official. I am a "wearer-out-er".

When I find something I like, or rediscover something I used to like, I tend to overdo it. Or as I like to phrase it, I just "fully embrace" it.

Until I get a little burned out. Then I take a break. I'm quite fickle that way.

Case in point: Ironman. I discovered triathlon in 2007, and in September 2008 I completed Ironman Wisconsin. Zero to full throttle. Then I needed a long break.

Right now my like is a little less extreme. I like corn-on-the-cob. Yes, pause for effect.

Maybe it's because we never had a spring and we are only now starting to see the possibility of summer and nothing says summer like corn-on-the-cob. Or perhaps it's because shucking the corn in preparation is one of the most relaxing, mindful activities I've experienced in awhile.

Or, could it be the treasure-hunt of picking the lost kernels out of my teeth afterward? No, that is actually totally gross and unappealing. Definitely NOT it.

So, I've had corn-on-the-cob with dinner for the last 3 days. It is bound to die out soon, and I know I should try to pace myself but I clearly have some sort of mental illness that prohibits me from putting the cob down.

I also joined a gym today, which I am hoping balances out the craziness of the above confession. I use Living Social and Groupon religiously, and I now have a 1 month membership to Harbor Athletic Club, about 8 minutes from my house. For $20. I don't really need a gym in the beautiful warm weather, but here's the bonus - they have a boatload of classes. I like to try new things...so, look for future posts to include updates on my antics in this brave, new world.

I start tomorrow.

Madison Half Race Report

2011-05-29T18:05:00.000-05:00

Another half marathon is officially in the books.

This morning was the Madison Half - which if you recall, was supposed to be the Madison Full. As I've mentioned before...lesson learned. A spring marathon is WAY HARD to train for in the midwest. Between that, seemingly endless travel since December, and a very unfortunate 6 week hacking cough that I started to worry was becoming part of my persona, I found myself woefully behind on those precious long runs.

My training partner Julie suffered from pain in her left knee that at one point made it almost impossible for her to hobble back to her car - alone, in the winter.

So we opted for the half.

Overall, the training has really taken a backseat since making that decision. I did run the Lake Monona 20k a couple weeks ago and it was one of the best runs of my life. I averaged 9:13/mile, which for me is pretty much like saying I WON MY AGE GROUP.

Of course I did NOT win my age group.

Since I have no idea what that would feel like (and let's be honest, probably never will)...I am guessing the way I felt about my average pace is close to that level of euphoria. At least for a historically slow runner like me.

At any rate, that was my highlight in training. In the last 2 weeks, I ran 3 times. Julie has been nursing her injury and recovering as much as she can with biking and shorter runs to build strength in her knee.

And that's the shape we were in when we bellied up to the starting line this morning. Another lesson learned? No matter how many halfs I've done, showing up to the race with less than optimal training in the bank is daunting. Not comfortable at all. Hey, maybe when I was 29...but folks, this body needs a bit more preparation and a bit less spontaneous hard work.

So we took it slow and steady. Stopped at every aid station, high-fived the little kids, and laughed at the crazy signs.

A few favorites:

You don't really look good. But you are running well.

That's not sweat. It's your fat cells crying.

Chuck Norris has never run a marathon!

I was chatty, telling a fellow runner I loved her shoes, which she told me she designed herself through the Nike customization program. Very cool.

When I asked Julie if her knee hurt, she said yes. I asked if she wanted to rest or stretch. She replied, "I'm just going to deal with it because we are going to finish this mother-f@&!er"

The woman running next to us laughed out loud. Later when we ran into her at the finish line she said it was exactly what she needed to hear at that point in the race. And it still made her laugh.

In short, we enjoyed ourselves as much as you can when you are running for a solid 2 hours.

We finished in 2:13. Average pace 10:31/mile. Yes, slow. However, through the sweat and the ouch-ouch-ouch of the last few miles, then the WTF-Are-you-kidding-me with this hill at mile 12?...

We had a great run and a fun morning.

Plus - get this - they give you a medal whether you are fast or slow!

So with medals-in-hand we hobbled over to the Great Dane Pub and had a couple of beers for breakfast.

Let summer begin!

25 on 25

2011-05-25T20:22:00.000-05:00

As it turns out, the end of the world wasn't May 21.

It was May 25. Or, the last day of Oprah.

It's all people want to talk about. 25 years of Oprah ending on May 25. That isn't a coincidence.

I will admit, the end of Oprah's show is the end of an era. She redefined the talk show, increased the overall intelligence of many with her book club, introduced us to the real side of many famous people (which in some cases like Tom Cruise kind of became a PR nightmare for the celeb), and between her favorite things and her giveaways...showed us a sort of glamorous life on a regular person's budget.

It won't be the last we see of her. Mark my words - she will end up in politics. Some joke that Oprah has more money than God and that may well be true but I would also argue she has more dreams and ambitions than a lot of us. Or, perhaps, she just has the guts to go after them.

I haven't really watched her in years, but when SNL spoofs on you...you are pretty solidly ingrained in the culture of America. I still catch the occasional clip or interview on YouTube. She is like an old friend, always just there...until she's not.

She raised the bar for women, and for that I am grateful. She brought grace and poise and sophistication to daytime TV, and for that we should all be grateful. Love her or hate her, she is a true success story. She wasn't born with a silver spoon in her mouth and yet she has impacted the lives of so many. I am pretty certain there is nothing but silver in her utensil drawer now.

I am looking forward to what's next...as I'm sure she has it already figured out. That's why we admire her.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

2011-05-24T12:11:00.000-05:00

Well...

Hello again.

Turns out the world did not end this weekend, work is starting to temporarily slow, I'm training (not less, but differently)...and I'm back on the laptop staring at the blogger screen.

Things are moving in my world. Change is in the air. It's about to get interesting. Trust me.

In the meantime, my doggies are back in the little pink house with me...and somehow that makes things more right in the world. I missed them. That's an understatement. I hadn't seen them in a year because they were in the custody of their dad, and getting them back was pretty amazing. They didn't forget me, which was my absolute worst fear. In fact, within minutes they navigated the house and rekindled their love-hate with the cats as if they were never not here.

And Annie follows me around as if she has never spent a day away from the backs of my legs.

It's so fascinating how that works.

A few more updates...

This weekend instead of running the full marathon in Madison, I'm running the half. I have learned 2 things from this journey:
1) Training for a spring marathon when you live in the Midwest is HARD. Really hard. And really COLD. All the time. COLD.
2) Training for a marathon when you travel for work 2 out of every 4 weeks a month is HARD. Really hard. There.is.never.enough.time.

Yes, I am disappointed that I did not punch through the wall and get to this week in taper mode, but I am also certain that I will come back to fight another day. Perhaps this fall.

So I'm towing the line for the 13.1 this Sunday. Not my first, surely not my last...and I'm looking forward to it.

I missed hot yoga over the course of my recent work traveling and tonight I went back. It was MARVELOUS. That sense of calm - well, if you know me in a face-to-face, real live breathing person sort of way - you probably wouldn't recognize me after a hot yoga session. I believe I actually walk and gesture like a graceful swan. Charitable and overflowing with love and generosity for every single living thing on earth.

Now in general, I would argue I am a pretty nice person. I can be passionate, excitable, loud, opinionated, sometimes impatient, and emotional. After yoga - I am frickin' belle of the ball - all manners and smooth and flowy.

I attempted and really liked Pilates. My friend Carolyn teaches out of her home and it was super cool. First, she is brilliant. She knows how to work those machines and she has a brain full of about a thousand exercises I think. She taught me a few, commented on my already-aware lack of flexibility, and offered to teach me despite of it. I am so excited. This last 6 months has been eye-opening. TRX (remember WTF), Yoga, and Pilates.

What's next? Buckle up.

That's a decent update for tonight. I have a lot more to share...one step at a time.

Me & God

2011-04-26T21:39:00.000-05:00

Why’d it have to happen this way

Of all the days it could have been

Why today?

I, I, I am scared

What am I to do with those eyes

Look at what you’ve done to my pride

I, I, I am ill prepared

Well me & God got talkin’ to do

A lot of catching up

And a lot of sussing through

I think he saw me lying through my teeth

I was picturing my heaven

but you were not with me

I was back in the states and you couldn’t hear my tears at the gates

You were proud of me that day

You know I caught a smile before you turned away

Oh you and I were close friends

I wish I could get you out of my mind

You let me slip through the great divide

But you, oh you, you are here

Well me & God got talkin’ to do

A lot of catching up

And a lot of sussing through

I think he saw me lying through my teeth

I was picturing my heaven

but you were not with me

I was back in the states and you couldn’t hear my tears at the gates

I was back in the states and you couldn't hear my tears at the gates

- Trent Dabbs, "Me & God"

Rodeo

2011-04-26T21:08:00.000-05:00

Unconditional

2011-04-23T20:58:00.002-05:00

The Florida Sun plus a Cold

2011-04-23T20:37:00.000-05:00

Thank you for the birthday wishes! It was full of unexpected twists and turns, looks into the past, glimpses into the future, and adventure. It was quite a ride, as I fully expect all of this year to be!

In the meantime, back to the updates long overdue...

While working with Dwight Howard in Orlando, I was at the beginning of a 3 week long cold that I am STILL fighting. It began with a cough that felt like a solid 10lb weight on my chest. Trying to stay on the running/training schedule while traveling is extremely difficult. It can be done, but time changes, schedules, hotel rooms, tiny workout rooms, and weather all play a huge factor. Plus a cold.

It was sunny and 70-80 degrees in Orlando and although I really wanted to lay in bed and cough up what was left of my lungs (so gross, sorry about that)...I strapped shoes on and went for a run. It was supposed to be 11. It ended up to be an epic-ly challenging 9. And of course...ever the "tourist" (even in my own city)...I took pictures.

On the path that surrounds a little lake by the hotel

I was struck by this house...it felt very plantation-style in the middle of a residential neighborhood. And - it was up for sale. It may sound corny, but when I see an interesting house or property that captures my attention, I like to imagine what life would be like if that we were my home...Here, I'm kind of thinking my existence would have something to do with afternoon tea, mint juleps, and croquet in the backyard. Oh, and LUNCH with the LADIES.

In the middle of the neighborhood I ran past a girls softball game. I played softball from the time I was 8 through my freshman year of college. Pitcher & outfield. It was a big part of my life. My grandpa was a player and a coach in my hometown and although he was beyond those days when I knew him - he attended all of my pee-wee softball games until he could no longer make them. He would sit in the passenger side of the car (my uncle drove him) and watch. After the games we would talk about what happened, how I did. Pee-wee softball games were likely as exciting as watching paint dry, but he never let on. I still get chills when I watch a game live or on TV...and nothing compares to that moment when the umpire tosses you a brand new, pristine softball on the mound. It represented possibility and hope and strength. Not yet hit. Not yet pitched.

Then I found this park with a beautiful lake in the middle...the path was about 1.5 miles around. So - I did about 5 loops.

Gorgeous, peaceful lake...

Baby Ducklings!

Nearing the end of my run - an amazing fountain in the middle of the street in a very cool, eclectic neighborhood.

I admit, I felt horrible after the run - due to the impending cold. Yet I am so thankful I made this memory. The best way to truly experience a city is on foot. Whether they are running or walking.

Thirty-nine

2011-04-13T16:04:00.000-05:00

We interrupt the frantic updating of the blog with the last two weeks’ of adventure to bring you the following announcement…

Today is my birthday.

And I’m not the least bit ashamed to tell you I am 39.

My 38th year changed that for me, along with many other things. I don’t plan to get too philosophical, and after the year I’ve been through I am not in the best place to wax poetic about my experiences. Maybe in a year. Or ten. Not today.

I will, however, confirm that I am a different person. Through immense heartache, tumultuous times, and gut-wrenching betrayal…I learned a lot.

I learned about people. Trust that at one time I gave freely now needs to be earned. Not just with my heart, but also with my friendship, which is truly an extension of my heart. In crisis, what they say is true – you really find out who your friends are. The people who truly care about you rise to the surface and the ones who don’t…well, some of them will shock you and all of them will hurt you when your blinders come off. So, you shed those who disappoint and let you down, and you embrace those who love you whole-heartedly. At least that’s what I’ve had to do.

I also learned a lot about myself. I was pushed to the edge and now I know where my limits are and how much I can withstand. Two surprises came out of this which I believe are true of everyone:

1) I am much stronger than I originally thought and I can take on a lot of hurt and pain and disillusionment. Not always gracefully and certainly not ever easily, but when I look back and see how much I actually had to crawl through…well, I am still in disbelief.

2) The strength loaned to me by my family and friends, coupled with this inner strength I didn’t even know I had, also carried me beyond the hurt into this new place. I don’t exactly know where this new place is, I only know it’s better than where I’ve been.

I still have rough patches. I just had one on Sunday. There are moments when painful memories push away the progress I’ve made and take over…ruling my head and my heart until I can swim amongst the crashing waves and get back to shore. The difference is that these moments are no longer days, just parts of days. I don’t try to avoid them anymore and I also don’t let them overwhelm me. I am trying to open myself to the memory, do what I need to do to work through it, and move on.

I plan to wear 39 like a badge of honor. I am a different person. My friend Tara just recently told me, “This experience will always be a part of you.” In realizing that, I can stop fighting it and asking the unanswerable ‘why?’ It is what it is, it is now part of who I am, and I can’t fix it or undo it or honestly, make sense of it. I can’t go back in time and be the person I was before it happened. I can only be this different person. And just keep taking cautious steps until I dance again.

Did you set your alarm?

2011-04-12T20:39:00.000-05:00

Thank you for the warm welcome back!

Since I have been delinquent for over 2 weeks, I will try to start at the beginning...

March 25-27 I was in Orlando, Fl for work. We were shooting Dwight Howard of the Orlando Magic for a promotion we are doing in the back-half of this year.

Our shoot was scheduled for Saturday, so on Friday...we went to the Orlando Magic - NJ Nets game. It was my FIRST ever NBA game! A fan of Detroit, I have seen the Red Wings, Lions, and Tigers live...but never the Pistons. It just never worked out.

Guess what?

I LOVE NBA basketball. I may have found a new favorite activity! The action kept going...no long pauses...there were dancers and cheerleaders...and wow - Dwight was awesome!

That is Mr. Dwight Howard at the basket...

He is always at the free throw line...

On Saturday, we went into production for Dwight's shoot. He was right on time, extremely easy to work with, and highly entertaining.

He even brought one of his dogs...Puffy...

I was so excited, I tried to channel his awesomeness...

As part of our shoot, we conducted an interview, asking him questions about how he got started, what was important to him, and how he became a professional basketball player. One of his answers really impacted me...

As a kid, Dwight said he had his sights on 2 goals: 1) To play in the NBA someday, and 2) To be first round draft pick when he did.

So he got up every morning at 5am. He went straight to the gym to shoot hoops. Then he went to the weight room.

Then he went to class.

In high school.

I don't know about you, but I didn't have that kind of drive in high school.

And he said, it didn't matter what time he went to bed the night before. Or how he was feeling. Or what was going on in his life. He just set the alarm, pulled himself out of the bed, and did the work.

In the 2004 NBA draft, at age 18, Dwight was first overall pick by the Orlando Magic.

What struck me is that sometimes I let my mind play tricks on me - I think professional athletes are lucky or possess better genetics or that things just come "naturally" to them. Sure, it helps Dwight that he is 6'11". But he could be that height and do anything else in his life...playing professional basketball wasn't a foregone conclusion. He actually wanted it - and he really worked for it. He made his dream come true by setting that alarm every night and getting out of bed every morning.

It reminded me that we each have special contributions to make in this world, but if we aren't willing to dedicate ourselves to our passions or devote ourselves to our dreams and goals...if we are just waiting for luck to be on our side...or if we just lament what we don't have in the face of what we want...

We are throwing our talents and our dreams and our goals away.

What it really boils down to is this: We have to do the work. Even if you're Dwight Howard. You have to do the work.

What a great ending to a memorable shoot...

Return to Normal

2011-04-10T20:21:00.000-05:00

Wow.

I have been off the blog for a long time. Two-and-a-half weeks. It's been filled with a ton of travel for work and pleasure, and I have a lot - A LOT - to write about. I can't wait to get started.

I'm back.

More to come, very soon.

Bring it to the mat

2011-03-22T20:45:00.000-05:00

Yoga bootcamp was on Sunday. As I've mentioned, 3 weeks ago I took my first yoga class...hot yoga...and I've been addicted since that inaugural sweat-fest. Head-over-heels in love.

I signed up for bootcamp 2 weeks ago, which promised to talk about the inner discovery of yoga, what brings us to the mat, and how we can better understand the dimensions of the practice. After my 15 mile run on Saturday, I didn't expect to do much yoga - after all, the instructions requested that we bring paper and a pen...I thought it was a bit more workshop than workout.

I would be mistaken.

For the first 45 minutes we did talk. I learned about the Red Donut. We discussed "A Course in Miracles", and the idea that the emotions of our past or even future (worry) are preventing us from being in the present moment. Fear, anxiety, jealousy, rage, apprehension, regret, guilt and so many more, are stopping us from being who we are at our core in this very moment.

We also talked about what brought us to the mat. Many shared their personal experiences and it made the room seem smaller and more intimate than it really was. I enjoy listening to other people share even when I do not have the courage inside me to do the same. Instead of opening up to the group, I spent some time thinking internally about why, once I discovered yoga, I kept coming back. For me, I came to yoga because I have been bouncing around over the last few months...trying new things in a safe way where no can judge or criticize. I have been looking outside myself for something to hold onto.

My first session was scary, but I was open to it. I embraced it and just tried to soak it all in. The words, the spiritual experience...all of it foreign and yet inviting. At the end of the class, while laying in corpse pose, I smiled. I realized that for 1 hour and 15 minutes - I stopped hearing anyone's voice except my own.

That was huge.

No one was telling me who I was or wasn't, what I should do or shouldn't, what I had done wrong or how I had disappointed...it was just me. I realized while laying on that mat in a pool of sweat, staring at the ceiling, that I hadn't heard my own voice in a long time. I also realized that as much as I no longer trusted it, I missed it - I needed it - and it was all I had to depend on now.

That's why I come to the mat. To silence the entire world and let this meek, unsure, and yet persistent voice whisper and whisper and whisper...

Until it's all I can hear again.

Images from a Run

2011-03-20T20:43:00.000-05:00

I'm back.

Run rut behind me, I opted to kick it in full gear and hit the 15 mile training run this Saturday.

OUCH.

I actually followed it up with an ice bath because those legs were screaming so loud on the last 2 miles I knew I would be in a world of hurt if I didn't attempt to shock them into quick repair.

Yeah, it sort of worked for yesterday...but today? I'm walking like I need crutches. The 2 hour hot yoga session today was supposed to help. Notsomuch.

The good news is that I'm back into the running. Let's focus on that. Although I must say, the pain of 15 made me really nervous about the pain of 26, which means no more ruts for me between now and the end of May.

I'm a bit of a casual runner on the long runs, which means I'm not adverse to stopping to take a picture or two of my journey. Without further adieu, I present "Images from a Gorgeous March Saturday Run in Madison"...

I don't know...but these make me smile every time I see them off the city trail.

Then...an unfortunate discovery on the sidewalk. Someone is very very sad, and I was so hungry at this point I wondered if any of it was still good. Kidding. Or am I? (it's natural peanut butter if you can't tell)

And not to end this on a gross note...here is a true example of Madison style. It's March 19, the temperature just hit 51 degrees, and yes, we have kayakers on the Yahara River.

A good run and a good day.

Grab a shovel

2011-03-13T14:10:00.000-05:00

I believe I am officially in a running rut.

The past 2 weeks at work have been a bit crazed, which prevented staying on the schedule. I snuck in a run here and there, up to 6 miles...but I have missed my long run now for two weekends in a row.

Today I am supposed to be running 14 miles. Clearly, I am not - unless I am uber talented and have discovered a way to blog while running. Someone will someday...but I'm willing to bet it won't be me.

I did go to WTF (TRX) yesterday, then 75 minutes of Powerflow hot yoga in the afternoon so I am not completely in a workout rut. Just a running rut.

This morning, after cursing Daylight Savings Time, I started the routine trying not to think too much about it. I prepared my steel cut oatmeal, had a cup of coffee, put on my tights/underlayer/socks/Brooks, started getting my water bottle ready, spilled water all over the kitchen in an epic failure of the Brita pitcher...

And promptly decided it was a sign that I shouldn't go.

Yeah, it's a pretty deep rut.

I think my major roadblock is the sheer amount of time I have to actually put into the running for the marathon training. I am slow - turtle slow - so 14 miles will take me roughly 2.5 hours. It is completely overwhelming to lace up my running shoes and know I have 2.5 hours ahead of me. It's more than my brain can wrap itself around right now.

I realize mental toughness is at the heart of endurance training. I've been there for IM and I was so thoroughly exhausted from it when it was over, I took a lot of time off. Now I'm back at it, and it really is...tough.

This afternoon I have WTF bootcamp, then another hot yoga class. I am bagging the long run, which I know is such a bad decision, but I'm getting back on the program this week with the short runs to try to build up again.

I know I'm not the only one - comments welcome on you handle the rut...advice appreciated!

Please don't go

2011-03-11T19:21:00.000-06:00

The Borders bookstore about a mile from my house is closing.

This is a sad day.

I am a lover of books and bookstores. I can stroll through a bookstore for hours, running my fingers over intoxicating covers, perusing synopses, absorbing author bios, flipping through the pages and imagining the writing and the writer...the story unfolding, the characters either coming to life as each page turns - or finally getting their moment in the sun after living in the confines of the writer's head for years.

I have a kindle, but I have yet to embrace it. I want to like it...and I know someday I will, but can anything replace the feeling of the book in your hand? The profound moment just before you embark on the journey? The feeling of something so light, but yet so heavy in what it will do to your life?

And I miss seeing what others are reading. Whether on a plane, or at a restaurant by myself, or in a coffee shop...it offers a glimpse into their world - who they are on this day, what interests them, who they choose to spend their time with. It's a conversation starter or ender, but at least it's a conversation.

I will miss the Borders store. It may miss my mastercard. I have more books than I can probably ever read, but I picked up a few more tonight. The possibilities are so endless, I just can't resist.

Sunday Morning Alphabet Soup

2011-03-06T10:36:00.000-06:00

We are mixing it up a bit today. I thoroughly enjoyed reading this list on KC's blog and since it's a slow and easy Sunday morning, I thought it would be fun to participate.

Feel free to join the party...

A~Age: 38 and 11 months.

B~ Bed Size: Queen.

C~Chore you hate: Folding laundry.

D~Dogs: 2 – Homer & Annie. I miss them. They are living with their dad right now.

E~Essential Start your Day Item: Coffee, darker the better.

F~Favorite Color: Pink – sad, but true. Especially pink bikes.

G~Gold or Silver: Silver.

H~Height: 5’ 6.5” the ½ inch is very important.

I~Instruments you play: Steering wheel drums and air-banjo.

J~Job Title: Brand manager.

K~Kids: All have fur. 2 dogs (see above), 2 cats, Kodi and Katie.

L~Live: Madison, WI – home of IMOO, provider of cheese curds, Kringle, Miller Lite, & endless bike paths.

M~Mom’s Name: Delores.

N~Nicknames: Holmer, Ironmin, Mindelina, Minderella, Mindo, MJ.

O~Overnight Hospital Stays: 4^th grade, 3 nights for pneumonia.

P~Pet Peeve: Apple eating in my presence and bad spelling.

Q~Quote from a Movie: One-Two-Three-Four...We’ve got disco war, folks! Starsky & Hutch.

R~Right or Left Handed: Right, and right-brained.

S~Siblings: Younger sister, Emily; younger brother, Chip.

T~Time you wake up: 7am, after 4-5 snoozes of the alarm

U~Underwear: Let’s get to know each other a little more before we start discussing our delicates.

V~Vegetable you Dislike: Spaghetti squash. Which I guess is also considered a fruit. Go figure. Either way, it's like worms on my plate and that doesn't go over well.

W~What Makes You Late: Everything. It doesn’t matter how much time I’ve given myself to leave/get there…still late.

X-rays ~You’ve had Done: Teeth, neck, spine, chest.

Y~Yummy Food you Make: Banana pancakes. Also known as the only meal I can’t screw up. Yet.

Z~Zoo Animal Favorites: Hippopotamus.

Hot Child in the City

2011-03-05T17:58:00.000-06:00

Hi, I'm IronMin and I am a hot-yoga-aholic.

It's been 2 days since my last session.

As part of my "year of self-discovery", I am pushing myself to try new things. Running, swimming, biking will continue to be my travel companions on this journey. They are so ingrained in my life and I am both thankful for the lessons they have taught me and the experiences I have embraced because of them. With that solid foundation I am ready to branch out and see what else is out there.

Enter Groupon. In this spirit of confession I may as well announce this as well: I am addicted to Groupon. If you haven't checked it out, go to the website to see if it's in your city. Crazy discounts on spa treatments, restuarants, workout classes/facilities, stores...all await you. Every day I get another deal served up and it is almost as exciting to see what it is, as it is to actually make the purchase.

A few months ago there was a deal for Inner Fire Yoga in Madison. For $20, 1 month unlimited yoga. Since the place is actually called Inner Fire - I'm sure you have concluded it is all hot yoga. I have never tried yoga up to this point so some friends laughed at me for starting with hot first. "Don't you want to just try it before you move into a hot room with it?"

Stepping in cautiously? Not my style. And believe me, it gets me in trouble more than I care to admit. See previous years of posts for confirmation.

Last Sunday I started my month with a 90 minute class. It's classical style hatha yoga, if you follow such things. I still have to learn what that means, but since it's week 1 I'll cut myself some slack.

90 minutes. Within 3 I was soaked in sweat and it felt...so...GOOD. I honestly don't think I have produced that much sweat, ever.

I fumbled through learning the postures with help from the instructor and by the end of the class, lying on my back on my mat in the savasana pose I caught myself smiling.

I am addicted.

I went to the Tuesday class, then pulled myself out of bed Thursday morning for the 60 minute flow class. Not much can pull me out of bed at 5:30am. Trust me.

I go back Sunday night after WTF class for another 90 minute session. After each class I literally feel lighter. It is so cleansing and centering. I think that's the reason for the accidental smile at the end of the first class - for a moment, just a moment...I felt a wave of peace. Completely aware of myself, and totally calm about it.

In January I tried WTF and LOVED it. In February, Hot Yoga and LOVED it. What's next?

I can't wait to find out.

One word in front of the other

2011-02-27T11:19:00.000-06:00

In the past month I have been very introspective. My thoughts are not philosophical or even, regrettably, beneficial to the world at large. No, unfortunately I am still trying to sort through my own mess which means I am still quite selfishly focused on figuring out me. Believe me, there are plenty of moments in every day where I get completely sick of me too.

As I sift through the ashes of what's left of my heart, my only vow to myself has been this: Protect it. From this point forward, protect it. I'm trying to find the balance between hiding it while I heal it, and not permanently growing a steel cage around it and changing who I am because of it.

When an animal is sick or hurt, it typically disappears to a safe sanctuary where it can patiently nurse it's wounds. I've had cats and dogs all of my life, and I've seen this happen countless times. However, it's in my nature to drop everything and try to be there. If someone is sick or wounded, I just want to hold their hand, sit with them in conversation or silence, get them what they need. Be there. That's the only way I know how to love. For my furry friends, I wanted to be there to pet them, soothe them, talk to them. A tough life lesson was learned this way.

When I was 9, our cat Morris (yes, he even looked like Morris the cat but was actually named after my grandfather) had unfortunately suffered injuries from a car that kept him laid up for weeks. I was beside myself trying to get to him. He found himself a perch in the garage of our house and wouldn't come down, so my dad made him a comfortable bed to allow him to cocoon and do his healing. After hours of trying to mount a strategy on how to get up to him, I finally found a climbing opportunity and reached his perch. I thought for sure he'd be so excited I was up there with him. He would feel my love.

He didn't.

He hissed. He made it perfectly clear he wanted to be left alone. I was crushed. I just wanted to help. My dad (after reminding me that he had told me to leave the poor cat alone and stay out of the garage), explained that sometimes helping means you do what is right for someone else, and not what you feel you need to do. Sometimes when you're hurt, you just want to be left alone to lick your wounds. It's a way to take inventory, assess the damage, and quietly start the healing process.

At 9 I was pretty sure that meant the cat hated me and my dad was just being nice.

Fast forward 30 years. I've been thinking about the road I've been on and how I really did the same thing. Before the grenade was thrown into my heart in December and post-explosion everything was changed, I had already shut myself off from nearly everyone in my life. No one could understand what I was going through, no one could help, and I was too afraid to tell anyone just how emotionally painful it had become. I didn't want to go out. I sealed myself away and rode the roller coaster of hurt and confusion everyday - trying desperately to fix it, make sense of it, hold onto it, make things right again, make concessions, swallow the pain so I could still keep this part of my life that I couldn't and wouldn't survive without.

People around me had no choice but to offer their hand and watch while I closed off again. I willed this part of my life to work, and consequently beat myself up because no matter what I did - it seemed to make it worse. I just got sicker and sicker, turning myself inside out until I didn't even recognize me. And now, friends will tell me the same thing. They could see that I was lost, that I was falling apart, that I stopped smiling, connecting, and even eating, and they felt helpless. I was unreachable.

In the past couple of months, post-explosion, I venture out of the cocoon on my own comfort level. I am most definitely still licking my wounds. Taking inventory.

And although I will absolutely continue protecting my heart, I have also made a few steps to try to use it in other ways while I do that. The first step was the least scary - signing up for another Ironman. There's a comfort in the familiar, and a healing in the physical pain of endurance sport. Plus, it certainly fills the time pretty easily.

Second, I have decided to really explore writing and push myself to do more of it. It's always been my safety net and my sanctuary. I took a big step and registered for 2 writing classes through the Gotham Writers' Workshop in NYC. Reading Fiction, which focuses on different writing tools and how to incorporate them into your own work, and Screenwriting. I'm taking them both online. It will be interesting to see how this goes. Sharing my writing is putting my heart out there, just like this blog, so at least I am not letting my heart get rusty while it quietly restores itself.

Slowly, I am starting to recognize myself again. I am so unsure of who this person is, it sometimes feels like I am waking up with amnesia. Little pieces are starting to come back, a little at a time, which matches about what I can handle in terms of making progress.

One word in front of the other.

Music heals

2011-02-26T23:00:00.000-06:00

You're a million miles away but I can still see your face
I can still taste your lips from the kiss yesterday
I heard you left the other day, took another trip to outer space
I will chase you around the world, I can still heal you, I can still feel you, I can still
hear you calling my name

I've been thinking about you
I've been dreaming about you, every night and everyday
I keep waiting on you
Been praying for you that maybe you'll come back again someday

Should've been a piece of cake
But I guess it had to end this way
Why is everything such a waste?
I wanna keep holding on
Holding on to what we got
But everything that we had is already gone
I can still heal you, I can still feel you, I can still hear you calling my name

I've been thinking about you
I've been dreaming about you, every night and everyday
I keep waiting on you
Been praying for you that maybe you'll come back again someday

I've been thinking about you
I've been dreaming about you every night
I keep waiting on you and praying for you
That maybe you'll come back again someday

- Puddle of Mudd, "Thinking About You"

It's all Green to me

2011-02-22T18:51:00.000-06:00

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.

Well, color me blue and give me a tail

2011-02-21T21:29:00.001-06:00

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.

Hi-ho, Hi-ho, it's down to the basement I go

2011-02-20T11:09:00.002-06:00

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...

Brighter, Stronger

2011-02-19T19:30:00.000-06:00

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.

Music heals

2011-02-19T18:39:00.000-06:00

I heard it from my friends
About the things you said
I heard it from my friends
About the things you said

But they know me better than that
They know me better than that

They know my weaknesses
I never tried to hide them
They know my weaknesses
I never denied them

I heard it from my friends
About the things you said
I heard it from my friends
About the things you said

How can a view become so twisted
How can a view become so twisted

They know my weaknesses
I never tried to hide them
They know my weaknesses
You tried them

I get so carried away
You brought me down to earth
I thought we had something precious
Now I know what it's worth

I heard it from my friends
About the things you said
I heard it from my friends
About the things you said

I've never felt so disappointed
Never felt so disappointed

They know my weaknesses
I never tried to hide them
They know my weaknesses
Thought that you liked them

They know me better than that

- Depeche Mode, "The Things You Said"

Still

2011-02-15T18:24:00.002-06:00

100, 200, GO

2011-02-09T22:33:00.000-06:00

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?

Grit

2011-02-09T22:13:00.000-06:00

The "Big" Reveal

2011-02-07T22:38:00.002-06:00

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?

Music heals

2011-02-07T21:59:00.000-06:00

Oh life is bigger
It's bigger than you
And you are not me
The lengths that I will go to
The distance in your eyes
Oh no I've said too much
I set it up

That's me in the corner
That's me in the spotlight
Losing my religion
Trying to keep up with you
And I don't know if I can do it
Oh no I've said too much
I haven't said enough
I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try

Every whisper
Of every waking hour I'm
Choosing my confessions
Trying to keep an eye on you
Like a hurt lost and blinded fool
Oh no I've said too much
I set it up

Consider this
The hint of the century
Consider this
The slip that brought me
To my knees failed
What if all these fantasies
Come flailing around
Now I've said too much
I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try

But that was just a dream
That was just a dream

- R.E.M, "Losing My Religion"

Anger, Redirected

2011-02-03T20:24:00.001-06:00

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.

Still me

2011-02-01T20:51:00.000-06:00

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.

The Bearded Runner

2011-01-30T22:31:00.001-06:00

I have decided to grow a beard.

Not the Salma Hayek I-shaved-my-face-so-I-can-grow-a-moustache kind for her role in Frida.

Although, kudos to her for taking the role so seriously. But bummer she has to wax her lip for the rest of her life.

No, I'm talking a bona fide, full-on Grizzly Adams beard.

I just wanted you to know.

Second topic, I completed my 8 mile run today. Outside. Remember my "rant" about no sunshine in Madison in months? How I was begging for decent temps and a ray of sunshine for my run today?

Well, Madison made me proud.

See that sunshine? That beautiful, amazing sunshine? Wow.

To honor this perfect day, I also took a moment and just soaked it in...with my very own "Sun Pose"/thank you salutation.

I miraculously finished 8 miles, although it was a bit of a struggle fitness-wise. I walked a bit to catch my breath. My rib cage is sore after WTF class yesterday. Much more sore than I anticipated. I stuck with it though, and it was worth it. I did a lot of good thinking on this run, and I almost caught a glimpse of the 'old' me...almost.

You may now be wondering - what's the deal with the beard? Well, the two topics are related, I promise.

In typical Madison style, there were a lot of people out today. It was 29 degrees, but I spotted a lot of runners on the arboretum course. All of them men. All of them with beards.

I was wearing the turtle fur you see above...however during my running I had it up over my mouth and nose to protect my face from the cold, harsh air.

The men? No turtle fur.

I had to rotate the turtle fur every mile or so to move the wet icky area away from my face and start fresh.

The men? Still donning the same beard.

I have decided in the entirety of all things unfair between men and women...the beard as a protective face layer in the elements is my current fixation.

I want one. Just when I run. And maybe occasionally in those rare moments where I am contemplating life so I can scratch it while I look out into the distance and seem even more philosophical...

I guess I will simply settle for 2 things that made me happy today: Sunshine and 8 miles.

TRX = WTF

2011-01-29T19:14:00.003-06:00

Saturday is cross-training day on the current IronMin training schedule. 3 days of running and 1 rest day in the can this week so far. X-training had the makings of an adventure.

Because I like to embarrass myself...I mean, try new things...I went to my very first TRX class today.

From this moment forward, TRX shall be henceforth known throughout the land (or at least, to the readers of this blog) as -

WTF.

WTF class was held from 8:30-9:10 this morning in the upstairs balcony of a fire station. With real, live, working, fire trucks. And lots of fire fighting type gear. Plus it had a real, live, working firefighter mopping the floor, not exactly loving the fact that a bunch of triathletes and other assorted crazies were trekking in the sidewalk salt to come in for a workout. I smiled anyway.

I am friendly even in the face of fear.

There was a firefighting boat in there too. I am not sure how many fires erupt spontaneously on our lakes, but I guess if Nirvana can sing a song about a lake of fire, it must be possible.

It's where bad folks go when they die, apparently. In case I lost you along the way. It looked pretty new and hardly if ever used, so I guess there must not be a lot of bad folks in Madison. Or we just don't care so much about sending the firefighters out to save them. There's a philosophical debate in there somewhere.

Back to WTF class. I have decided to appraise the class using the ultra-sophisticated rating scale:

Me Likey/Me No Likey/Deal-Breaker

Yes, I just invented it. Yes, it is very highly regarded & technically superior. Yes, that feeling churning in your gut is normal. It's called jealousy.

Strap yourselves in (look, I made a little joke) for the inaugural edition of the rating scale on WTF...
Straps hanging down from the ceiling for me to hang on? Me Likey
Being told I can't swing or even sway on them? Me No Likey

Supporting Argument: Why would you hang things from the ceiling and NOT let me swing from side to side like a tire swing and try to leap off the balcony? Fun police.

Superman planks? ME NO LIKEY

With caps, for the appropriate amount of emphasis.
Pulling my leg up by the strap to go into a deep stretch? Me Likey
Plank with my toes in the straps, again with the strict no swaying rule? Me No Likey
The right leg, left leg lungy dance move while holding the straps with my hands? Me Likey
Editor's Note: It's the first class so clearly I have no idea what these moves are supposed to be officially called.
Being told for about the 7th time to keep my butt down while doing the crunchy moves in the toe straps? Me No Likey
Supporting Argument: She had a microphone. Everyone heard about my butt insubordination. Why can't I be more coordinated?
Leaning forward with my hands in the straps and doing the stepping moves? Me Likey

No Deal-Breakers this time.

The workout for my core? ME LIKEY

Couple more sessions and I will be coming up to you and shouting in your face, "PUNCH me in the stomach! DO IT! DO IT! Come on! PUNCH ME AS HARD AS YOU CAN! It's like a ROCK! Feel that? ABS OF STEEL!"

Where has WTF training been all this time? I just found out you can actually order the system for your home. If I do, I'm creating my own tire swing, jumping off move that I shall henceforth call...

IronMin's WTF Signature Move.

Ok, I have a little time before I have to finalize the name. I'm going back to that class though. I'm hooked. WTF has just right the balance of fun and OMG - I'm shaking - Can't hold this move for another second - This feels great - Is that an ab muscle popping out?

Me Likey. If you haven't tried it yet, I highly recommend it. Just don't steal my signature move.

Caution: Annoying Complaining Runner

2011-01-26T21:21:00.000-06:00

You've been warned.

I've been running.

Hold for applause.

Ok, so maybe that isn't newsworthy. I am supposed to be running. I am supposed to be training. I am supposed to be enthusiastic about the plan.

I'm not.

I am trying to be. And after each run...I do feel good. About myself. About getting back to the plan.

It's the 'getting on the treadmill' part that I am not enthusiastic about. On the treadmill, 5 miles is my limit. Major meltdowns of the I can't possibly take another step variety happen past 5 miles.

These meltdowns are generally followed by shooting tears, curse words, and a vow to move somewhere where treadmills do not exist...a place where every day is 70 degrees and sunny...a place of rainbows and unicorns and...

Well, you get it.

It's kind of like the motto "nothing good happens after midnight" at the bar. Nothing, and I mean, nothing good happens when the treadmill hits 5.01 miles.

I am an absolute terror on the treadmill. I cannot stay consistent, which if you think about it long enough, makes NO SENSE. If you can't be consistent when the pace is literally set by the belt flying by underneath your feet...well, then there's just no hope for you.

I mean, me. No hope for me.

Here's my typical treadmill routine:
Start at 3.8mph - Warm up for a few minutes
Crank it up to 6.5mph. This is fast. This is really fast. Ouch. I can't breathe. Is that a side-stitch? Crap.
Back down to 3.8mph - Just to catch my breath
Ratchet back up to 6.3mph. This feels great. Rhythm is easy and I feel like a gazelle. Hey, is that knee pain? My right knee hurts. Crap. I have 18 more weeks of this. I need to take it easy.
Back down to 4.0mph - Man, I'm such a wimp. I can't even handle 6.3.
Up to 6.1mph - Just need to hold it here for 3 songs on the iPod. Oh man, I totally hate this song. Let's see what's next. Hate this one too. What playlist am I on?
Hit pause on the treadmill.
Rotate through iPod playlists. Wow, I have nothing to listen to. More than 5.000 songs and yet not a single thing to listen to.
Restart treadmill.
My shoe is untied.
Hit pause.
Tie shoe.
Look around the gym to see if anyone I know has walked in. Nope.
Restart treadmill.
Let's try 6.0mph...

Yes, I am pretty much the most annoying person you will ever run next to at the gym. Although if you hang on long enough, I will either trip, whack my hand on the handrails, or fall off.

It's worth the wait.

So, this weekend I have an 8 mile run on the schedule in my very early stages of marathon training and I am just praying that the weather in Madison will be positive degrees vs. negative, and would it kill the state - would it really kill it - to throw us a ray of sunshine???

Seriously. Just one ray. Or even a "Ray of Sunshine Coming Soon" message across the gray, low-hanging, heavy sky would be adequate.

I'm done complaining. For the moment.

Next week I start swimming. Stay tuned. I love swimming but have a more than normal dislike for the 5am wake-up call. There will be complaining people.

I'm sorry in advance.

Pensive

2011-01-25T21:58:00.000-06:00

Turn it off

2011-01-24T23:11:00.000-06:00

Sometimes I wish my brain had an off switch.

It.Just.Never.Stops. There are memories, thoughts, and feelings I would do anything to avoid right now. Anything. Yet I can't.

There is no escape. A million different things in my life seem to trigger the unexpected release of another unwelcome memory. It doesn't matter where I am, what I'm doing, or what I was actually thinking about before it happens. I can be hanging out with friends or running errands alone...working or working out...watching a movie or even, writing.

There is no escape.

I can't even catch a break when I sleep. My dreams are haunting, and that's when they don't evolve into nightmares. I habitually wake up in a cold sweat, sometimes gasping, sometimes crying...it takes several moments of quietly staring into the darkness to collect myself, remind myself that this is reality, tell myself that even the worst hurts can be healed.

The memories come rushing in and I can't stop them. I only now realize I have not dealt with a lot of what I have been through. I repressed so much. I pushed down the deepest hurts and turned away from the biggest betrayals. And now, I can't escape. Each memory wants a chance on stage. I'd rather shut the production down, close the curtain, and walk away from the theater.

Yet I can't. And, though it pains me to admit it, I shouldn't.

I first berate myself then forgive myself, every single day, for not moving on faster. Usually, many times a day. I have resolved that I am weaker than I want to be. I wish I could be the girl who picks herself up, brushes herself off...then walks on proudly with her head held high.

I am not that girl.

I am the girl who takes a 1/2 step forward then 3 steps back. The girl who fights back tears when confronted with her heartbreak. I am the girl who panics and has to close her eyes and count to ten when she gets hit with another memory. The girl who has to keep a running dialogue in her head of personal affirmations like, "you can do this"; "this will get easier"; "you can handle this"; "you will make it through".

I am the girl who hides behind a smile and a laugh so no one will really know how vulnerable and raw she feels inside. The girl who has all but retreated into the corner, yet still gets up every morning with just enough venom to fight her way back out.

I am the girl who nods and looks away when his name comes up. The girl who tries valiantly to pretend it doesn't hurt like hell. I am the girl who trusted too hard, gave too much, and walked away with her heart in her hands. I am the girl standing alone.

Whenever I'm asked how I am doing now, I have surrendered to a somewhat convincing "I'm ok". I no longer want to be a burden. I no longer want to talk about it. I no longer want to think about it.

I don't know how long it will take before I can get through an entire day without taking those 3 steps back. Or even only 2. I am holding onto hope that maybe tomorrow, I will take a full step forward. A full step.

I want to be that girl.

Can't help but smile

2011-01-24T21:12:00.001-06:00

This has been traveling through the viral online world and I'm sure most people have seen it at least once. However, in honor of Monday, which is historically a bit of challenge overall, I decided to post it here.

I go to my happy place every time...

Home - Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros Acoustic Cover (Jorge & Alexa Narvaez)

2011 Training Plan

2011-01-23T20:16:00.000-06:00

March 13: Shamrock Shuffle 10k

April 30: Crazylegs Classic 8k

May 7: Lake Monona 20k Run

May 29: Madison Marathon

June 18: High Cliff Half Ironman Triathlon

July 28-31: Make A Wish 300 Mile Ride

August: Top Secret...more to come

Time and Patience

2011-01-22T13:46:00.000-06:00

We are dancing, aren't we?

This tripping over ourselves
advancing, retreating
dipping a toe in the water
pulling it back up to the dock

I'm standing in the center
my head just keeps spinning
feeling you circle around me
your hidden heart behind your sway

I reach out a hundred times
searching for your eyes, hand
you step in close enough to touch
then you disappear from my sight

The fear you hold, I hold too
I watch you move away
and close my eyes to ask for time
healing comes in time and patience

I need a sign

2011-01-20T19:49:00.004-06:00

I find an odd comfort in horoscopes. Some people believe very strongly in them. I am not one of those...however, not a day goes by that I don't check mine.

Almost always at the end of the day.

I guess I hold off because I prefer to let every single day unfold as it will without any preconceived notions on my part of how it might turn out. I do believe in self-fulfilling prophecy and if I started each morning with the knowledge of what my astrological sign told me the day should be, I would likely steer it that way unconsciously. And I easily admit, I am not always the best judge of what is right for me.

So instead, I check the current day at the end of the day, usually before I go to bed. It's a good gut-check on whether or not there is any science behind the art.

Today was challenging. I confronted my broken heart twice face-to-face and the aftermath was rattling to my core. To balance the ever-appearing reminder of my hurt, I also had a few wonderful, light-hearted moments that I characterize in the "what-if" category. Just enough to make the day bearable as I daydream about a different road.

So tonight I read my horoscope -

Aries

By Rick Levine

You continue to move toward a powerful turning point in your life, yet now it feels even closer than ever before. However, you're not necessarily at ease because your habitual patterns have already started to change. The problem is that your new vision hasn't yet taken form. Although you may be annoyed that the process is taking so long, resign yourself to progressing at whatever speed the currents carry you along.

This really is the perfect wrap-up to the day.

I am moving toward a powerful turning point. Some days it is at a snail's pace, almost imperceptible, but it is still movement.

Tonight I built a fire, poured a glass of amazing red, and allowed myself to daydream about tomorrow. It is hard, but I am trying with all of my might to be patient. I do not possess the gift of patience, but I believe the path to healing is worth it.

Music heals

2011-01-20T19:06:00.000-06:00

And after the storm,
I run and run as the rains come
And I look up, I look up,
on my knees and out of luck,
I look up.

Night has always pushed up day
You must know life to see decay
But I won't rot, I won't rot
Not this mind and not this heart,
I won't rot.

...

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

And now I cling to what I knew
I saw exactly what was true
But oh no more.
That's why I hold,
That's why I hold with all I have.
That's why I hold.

...

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

- Mumford & Sons, "After the Storm"

Tranquility

2011-01-20T18:23:00.000-06:00

Music heals

2011-01-18T20:08:00.001-06:00

I see your face in my mind as I drive away
'Cause none of us thought it was gonna end that way
People are people and sometimes we change our minds
But it's killing me to see you go after all this time

Music starts playin' like the end of a sad movie
It's the kinda ending you don't really wanna see
'Cause it's tragedy and it'll only bring you down
Now I don't know what to be without you around

And we know it's never simple, never easy
Never a clean break, no one here to save me
You're the only thing I know like the back of my hand

And I can't breathe
Without you, but I have to
Breathe
Without you, but I have to

Never wanted this, never want to see you hurt
Every little bump in the road I tried to swerve
People are people and sometimes it doesn't work out
Nothing we say is gonna save us from the fall out

And we know it's never simple, never easy
Never a clean break, no one here to save me
You're the only thing I know like the back of my hand

And I can't breathe
Without you, but I have to
Breathe
Without you, but I have to

It's two a.m., feelin' like I just lost a friend
Hope you know it's not easy, easy for me
It's two a.m., feelin' like I just lost a friend
Hope you know this ain't easy, easy for me

And we know it's never simple, never easy
Never a clean break, no one here to save me, oh

I can't breathe

- Taylor Swift, "Breathe"

Welcome to the world little man...

2011-01-18T19:27:00.001-06:00

Marge, my best friend of (gulp) 23 years brought another miracle into the world on Friday...

Please meet Joshua Landon...

He is beautiful.

Marge is doing well, although understandably tired...but more importantly...peacefully, blissfully happy.

Marge is not her real name. I would say she would want me to tell you that, however, I am pretty sure she is ok with it. It's been her real name to me for...well, almost 23 years. It has been pretty much the only name I have called her since high school. Her real name is Jennifer. Some people call her Jen. Or Jenny.

I call her Marge.

In high school and beyond...we were inseparable. My last name was Holmes. I became "Holmer". People never saw Holmer without...

Marge.

Like the Simpsons.

Only cooler.

Marge gave birth to her 2nd son on Friday. Big brother Jack (how big can you be at 2 1/2?!) is so excited. Dad Jason is in total love and adoration...of Joshua and of Marge. And of Jack.

I am beyond proud of her and in love with the newest member of her family, and mine.

I count myself blessed to have had the opportunity to see them this weekend in the hospital and to hold onto the little guy and stare into his beautiful face. He is gorgeous. She is strong and graceful. I am...in awe of the whole deal.

Finally...open eyes!

Complete, absolute...Love.

Congratulations Marge, Jason, and Jack. See you soon. Miss holding that little man already!

I have a goal! I have a goal!

2011-01-16T10:05:00.000-06:00

My high school friend Beth signed up for the Make-A-Wish 300 mile bike ride in 2011...and she was soliciting friends who might want to support her or join her on the quest.

Oh, the power of Facebook.

I signed up immediately. For one, I love Beth and every time I see her we catch up so easily it's as if time hasn't passed by since high school (although the "smile lines" on my face suggest that time has passed since those days). Two, I have been looking for a goal or two this year. I definitely want to run a spring marathon, although as the calendar progresses and the running does not, it may be closer to a summer goal.

I notoriously do not relish my time on the bike. It's a hurdle I am constantly trying to overcome. Ironman training forced me to get on the bike for hours upon hours at a time and I had hoped I would come out on the other side of that with a deep and abiding admiration for my black stallion (yes, I name my bikes).

While I do respect the bike, I still do not really enjoy the bike.

What better way to force myself to get on it than signing up for a 300 mile ride? 3 days. Back-to-back centuries. Yeeeee hawwww.

Our team name is "Tour de Wishes" If you are inclined to donate to support the ride and much more importantly - the cause...please do! I have included relevant information below.

http://www.wishmich.org/page.aspx?pid=1046&tab=0&frtid=12235

Now I just need to find a training plan that will get me there, but I have a GOAL! That feels good.

Welcome to the Wish-A-Mile 300 Bicycle Tour July 28-31, 2011

The Wish-A-Mile 300 Bicycle Tour, or “WAM” as it is affectionately known by riders, is a three-day tour across Michigan. 2011 marks the 24th year of riding to grant wishes! This is the Make-A-Wish Foundation’s single largest fundraiser, which is responsible for granting hundreds of wishes each year for Michigan children with life-threatening medical conditions.

It all started in 1987 with four friends who challenged each other to ride 300 miles from Canton to Mackinac, WAM has grown from a humble beginning into an amazing 3-day, heartwarming journey with more than 1,000 dedicated cyclists and volunteers. The ride concludes with the Heroes Hurrah finish line celebration: congratulating riders, wish families, volunteers and supporters in a festive environment. Hope, strength and joy are exemplified with each Wish-A-Mile Tour. We invite you to join us and Share the Power of a Wish®!

WAM 300 Route 2011

July 28: Travel day to Traverse City
July 29, 30 & 31: Ride to Grant Wishes (approx. 100 miles a day)
July 31: Heroes Hurrah Finish Line - Chelsea, MI

Home

2011-01-15T19:26:00.003-06:00

Music heals

2011-01-14T05:55:00.005-06:00

The roaring silence fills the air
I gotta get myself out of here
Spilling coffee on my shoe, I shiver cause of you
My heart turns black and blue

How can I be with you after this war
My feelings are sour...baby
Why did you come back to hurt me some more
This is after the war

Now in this war I can't pretend
And our souls can never mend
This has to be the end
I've got to leave it all behind
On my way to another life - my new life

I have to go...oh baby

- Masterplan, "After This War"

Letting Go

2011-01-13T05:10:00.003-06:00

I'm awake when I should be sleeping.

Again.

Long day, I guess. Longer year. Yesterday, the book slammed shut on this chapter of my life. It was the culmination of everything I have been through and it was supposed to bring some sort of artificial closure and relief. It was the final step in a process that has been nothing short of nightmarish for me because tender parts of my personal life have gone public. I am fully accountable for a portion of it - I let my heart rule my head. Never again.

The other parts are the catalyst for my insomnia.

Believe it or not, I am a private person. I write as an outlet and a lot of what I write I am not brave enough to share openly. I confide completely in very few people. I pick and choose carefully who I can trust.

This time I got it wrong.

So wrong, in fact, I have managed to find a new way to fold into myself as wave after wave of emotion crash into me. Hurt. Betrayal. Confusion. Rage. Disillusionment. Defeat. As more is revealed to me in terms of how deeply my trust has been violated, I am now just floating on the surface, letting the sheer enormity of it toss me around and further batter my broken heart.

I have lost faith. I feel defeated. I realize it's not an official stage on the path to healing but I think we get the right to write our own rules. Capitulation. I have no fight left in me. I am black & blue. I have tried to internalize the pain as much as possible while I ask why....over and over...why? Why? More why. No answers.

Is it defeat or letting go?

I'm struggling with finding the music to capture my feelings right now, but I am migrating to parts of this song by Carrie Underwood - Jesus, Take the Wheel. There's a bit of religion in it which I tend to steer clear of on my blog. I'm focused on the letting go part. No more fight. I'm throwing my hands up.

...It'd been a long hard year
She had a lot on her mind and she didn't pay attention
she was going way too fast
Before she knew it she was spinning on a thin black sheet of glass
She saw both their lives flash before her eyes
She didn't even have time to cry
She was so scared
She threw her hands up in the air

Jesus take the wheel
Take it from my hands
Cause I can't do this on my own
I'm letting go
So give me one more chance
Save me from this road I'm on
Jesus take the wheel

As a close friend said,

Min, it's time to start writing the next chapter.

Get out a fresh sheet of clean paper. I can't find my pen today but it really is time.

I Just

2011-01-10T21:44:00.006-06:00

I just can't,
See into your eyes through the tears in my own.
Feel you through my broken heart.
Sleep at peace with our shattered dreams.

I just won't,
Accept that this is what you wanted for us.
Forget I was so naive I never saw this coming.
Believe this truth as the truth.

I just don't,
Understand why you have done this.
Think I can ever give my heart away again.
Trust in myself or in you anymore.

I just hope,
Someday my heart will heal.
My tremendous hurt will be forgotten.
I can eventually forgive every cut.

I just ache,
In the emptiness of your wake.
With the hole where my heart used to be.
From inside my soul.

Incontrovertible

2011-01-09T16:12:00.013-06:00

Dance Dance Resolution

2011-01-08T02:15:00.004-06:00

Well, hello insomnia...my old friend...

I didn't miss you. I know it's impolite to lead with a declarative statement about my feelings. Perhaps I should ask you how and where you've been, what you've seen, why you're back, but I'm not going to do that for 2 reasons:

1) I am so TIRED I just don't have it in me to engage in pleasantries

2) In 2011, I am working on being more honest

Before conclusions are drawn and assumptions made, let me explain. I am an honest person. The only times in my life that I may attempt to sidestep the truth are when I am trying desperately not to hurt someone's feelings. And I never attempt to sidestep the truth in my professional life, however I am pretty good at dancing around it until the words eventually start evolving into what I am trying to say (apologetically, of course), or the audience wants to throw their hands up in exasperation and cry just.get.to.it.already.

In the new year, I didn't make resolutions per se. Nothing makes me feel worse in the dead of the winter than broken resolutions. After all, if you can't get a promise to yourself it makes it a hard sell to believe you can keep promises to other people. My problem in the past was that I tried to make too many promises and I wrapped them up in a pretty bow & used different color ink and drew doodles around them...then carried them in my purse and thought...YES! I have a plan. THIS is the year.

I'd write things like:

Call my Mom more often

Then set measurement goals:

Call 2x a week

And create a schedule:

Call on Wednesday and Saturday

Another example:

Make sure my family and friends know how much I appreciate them, by

Checking in with at least 2 people every week, and

Telling them I am thinking about them and am happy I know them

In February...or May...or October...I would come across the list, long after I suffered the disappointment of knowing I had failed, and then relived the crushing blow of knowing that no matter how pretty I packaged it up - if it didn't become action it was just words on a paper.

This year I am not going to put myself through it. 2010 was challenging enough to my sense of self, thankyouverymuch. I'm taking it on easy on myself this year.

Instead, I have a few areas in my life I am going to spend a little more time in.

This year, I am going to protect my heart and not in the "now I'm eating Cheerios" sort of way. It's not what I want to do because it goes against my nature. It's something I have to do as an interim solution on the path to healing.

As I get older (not old, I said "older"), I am becoming more comfortable in my own skin. Finally. I mean, it's been my skin all along so it's about time. With this safer feeling within myself, I am starting to have a stronger handle on what's most important to me in my personal life. Family, friends, fitness, writing...I want to spend more time cultivating these aspects and let go of the rest. Like lawn mowing. I pretty much gave that up last year, much to the dismay of my neighbors.

In my non-personal life, I am very passionate about my career. I love marketing. I have love and trust in the brands I work on and I believe in the plans we are developing to make them even more loved and trusted by the people who use them. This year, I'm focusing on expressing that passion more openly with the folks I work with. Not only on the positive side, but also when tough decisions need to be made or when a plan just isn't all the way there. I want to be able to shorten the dance number to a few quick moves and cut to the chase.

(Bet you were wondering when I was going to get back to the sidestep/dance/truth part of this, weren't you? See? It takes me a few unchoreographed moves to get.to.the.point)

One of our core values at work is: tell it like it is

Another one is: lead from the head and the heart

These values make sense to me. I want to express myself in a more honest and direct way and if I am coming at it using both my head and my heart - hopefully hurt feelings won't be left behind in the aftermath. I want to shorten the dance because it's a waste of time, for everyone.

If a friend asks when we are shopping, do you like these jeans on me? My typical response would be..."Well, I do, I think they are a nice shade of blue, I do like that brand a lot, I like the way they fit around your ankles, I don't know, I did like the other pair you tried on a little more, I don't know, what do you think? Do you like them?"

Where I'd like to be: "There are things about them I like, but the pair you had on before fit you better and the detailing made your ass look amazing (this is girl-talk in the dressing room..BTW) I think there are better options for you than these"

At work when asked, what do think of this plan?

Instead of saying, "I like it, I think we're close, I know this is tough project, lots of details to consider, do you like it?, how do you feel about the progress you've made so far?, I'm not sure it's where it needs to be yet, there are parts I really like, I am confused by parts of it, I wonder if you could walk me through why you chose this aspect to focus on, I guess I'm not quite there yet, are you ok with it?"

I'd like to respond, "I think you nailed the objective with x and y. (insert brief supporting argument) There is more work to do on z. It's not all the way there yet, it feels off strategy and isn't as impactful as I expected. I'd like us to spend more time on z to get it to where we expected it to be"

I still want to be a nice person and there is no way I would ever be able to not consider someone's feelings (usually before my own). I just think there is a better way.

Less dancing. More honest.

I'm saving the dancing for my living room and the occasional trip to the dance floor.

Music heals

2011-01-06T20:56:00.000-06:00

But tell me now, where was my fault?

In loving you with my whole heart

Oh, tell me now, where was my fault?

In loving you with my whole heart

A white blank page, and a swelling rage, a rage

You did not think

When you sent me to the grave, the grave

You desired my attention

But denied my affections, my affections

So tell me now, where was my fault?

In loving you with my whole heart

Oh, tell me now, where was my fault?

In loving you with my whole heart

Lead me to the truth

And I will follow you with my whole life

Oh, lead me to the truth

And I will follow you with my whole life

- Mumford and Sons, "White Blank Page"

IronMin Parking Only

2011-01-04T20:15:00.005-06:00

I can finally admit that I totally understand the sheer enjoyment and sense of importance one can derive from having their own parking space at work.

I have one this year.

It's mine. As in - no one else can park there. If they do, security will come and leave a nasty note on their car. That's right - I said - A nasty note.

I envision it says something like this:

"Hey jack-o-lantern (remember, I like to change colloquialisms), this isn't your parking space. You can't park that 'beater' of a luxury sedan or outrageously over-sized SUV here. This space belongs to IronMin and she is understandably torqued. Park here again, and we will be forced to do something drastic. Like pour muddy water on your pristine paint job. Or call you names in the cafeteria. Which will make you cry. Or interrupt the office Muzak to announce that you thought you were better than everyone else and decided you could just park your mortgage-payment-with-wheels anywhere you want. Don't force us to do something really mean like plow all of the snow from the rest of the lot and deposit it behind your shiny, happy tail lights. If we ever get snow. It could happen. Don't test us.
Signed, Security/IronMin's Hit Team"

In reality it probably reads:

"This is a warning. Please refrain from parking in unauthorized spaces. Sincerely, your security personnel"

At any rate, I am the proud owner of spot #40 for the rest of the calendar year. It's ALL MINE. (insert diabolical laughter)

You may be thinking - wow, IronMin is a Big Wig. She must be extremely important. I should try to get to know her better. Maybe even comment on her blog to suck up to her. I had no idea she was this powerful or had this much social currency.

Well, if you want to suck up and comment - that's your business. Who am I to stop you?

Yet - no, no, no. I paid for this spot. Not with blood, sweat, and tears. Not with elbow grease either. With hard-earned American Dollars. Moolah. Dinero.

Whatever. I know dinero is not American Dollars. I do things in 3's. Don't judge.

Back to my story. We have a United Way campaign every year at my company, and someone came up with a genius way to incent folks to help the community through small, yet significant rewards. Hence, United Way parking spots were born. That's right, United Way parking spots can only be attained by either:

a) winning the lottery (yeah, that would never happen to me), or
b) by donating a predetermined % of your salary (ding ding ding)

I give to the United Way every year, without need for reward or incentive. I believe in giving back to the community in which we live and work. And I am fortunate that my company believes whole-heartedly in giving back. It's just one of the many reasons I landed here and a very compelling reason to stay. Not only do we generously give monetarily in our annual campaign drive, but we also take time out of the office to help our community in other ways. we participate with Days of Caring, Second Harvest, Meals on Wheels, and we build playgrounds with KaBoom! It's in the fabric of our DNA and I love that.

As I was lucky enough to be promoted through the years, I gave a little more of my salary every time. This year, I gave enough to cross the parking spot threshold.

I don't expect to receive a reward for supporting my community, like I said. I can't deny, however, how good it feels to have that spot. For one, it reminds me daily that I'm not just in it for myself - that I have a lot that I am grateful for. And through giving a bit of what I have away, I have hopefully helped look out for someone in need or helped fund an essential program that will benefit many.

Secondly, and brace yourself, this is selfish - it's comforting to know where I am going to park every single day when I pull into work. For the past few years, it's been a crap shoot. Get in late and you park so far away the building is a mirage in the distance. Get in early and you pretty much score the same deal. I'm not sure what the magic time is - but I've been fortunate only a few times to arrive when someone is randomly leaving their spot. Randomly.

In summary, I like pulling into my very own, designated, special parking spot. And sometimes, it's the little things that make your day just a smudge brighter.

P.S. I had better not find you in my space. I'm just saying...

Word Porn

2011-01-03T20:40:00.006-06:00

Yesterday on the long drive back to Wisconsin from Michigan, I was on twitter.

Yes, I was driving.

Yes, I know it is illegal to be driving and texting. The powers-that-be did not say anything about tweeting and driving. I am a very literal person. I am pretty sure I found a loophole in the law, and I'm willing to battle for it.

When you have recovered from the one-two punch of first, my rebelliousness against authority and second, my complete disregard for car safety that was reckless at best...I'll continue.

OK, yes, I will even give you "Menace to Society", although if I were you - I'd reserve that one for later nuggets of IronMin persona for which it is more applicable.

So, I'm tweeting. And driving. And I found myself in my very first twitter debate.

The theme: Paying someone for a list of blog post ideas.

Discuss.

I was con. While I have the utmost respect and admiration for the writing and insights of the blogger offering the service...I questioned the very nature of a writer's need to pay someone to help them come up with ideas to post.

Now, I am self-aware enough to know at least 2 simple truths:

1) Sometimes (ok, maybe more often), my blog posts SUCK

2) Writer's block is a real phenomenon (please throw salt over your shoulder and pray this never happens to you. Or me, if you don't mind)

However, I had to ask - if you are a writer, and you love to write, why do you need to purchase a list of ideas from someone else to generate your writing?

The debate was lively. Art imitates life. Which is another way of saying, in my opinion, art often steals inspiration from sources outside of ourselves.

I get it.

Yet I argue, I blog to share. I blog to entertain myself, and if I'm lucky...entertain another human being. (Because essentially, my cats don't really care)

I blog and write because my head and heart fill up and I have no other outlet to empty them out, sort through the pieces, and try to understand what is in there. It's a physical feeling for me - the filling, the emptying, the sorting...it's like I just ate way too much spaghetti and I might explode.

I have a love affair with words that has outlasted most of my other love affairs. A word, well-said or well-written...literally takes my breath away. Sometimes I just look up words in the dictionary, just to discover new words. Word porn, I guess. I like reading them. Saying them. Putting them together in meaningful and impactful ways. I enjoy changing colloquialisms and making them ridiculous. Like "Playing hard to get" to "Playing hard to want"

I guess you had to be there.

Maybe it's because I love words SO much that I cannot understand why my own head and heart wouldn't be able to generate enough reasons on my own to write them.

I write because I have to, or the spaghetti incident will happen.

I don't look for reasons to write. Reasons always seem to follow me around, keep me up at night, make me cry, make me laugh, make me yearn for human connection through conversation, get me angry, or just fill me up.

So, I won't pay for blog post ideas. If others want to, I won't judge. To each their own.

For me, I just want to play with words.

Let's Just Laugh for a Moment

2011-01-02T19:32:00.003-06:00

On a lighter note, you have got to see this...

I visited my friend Tracy from college today (more on that later) and she has me hooked on what I can only call - comedy crack. Here is a taste:

Amy Winfrey = Genius.

And now that you have the background, all I can say is...SUGAAAAR COOOOOOKIES

New Year...

2011-01-01T11:45:00.008-06:00

Wow.

2010 is over. I have to say, I'm relieved. I know it's just a calendar change, but for me this is symbolic.

I've been having strange dreams and even nightmares while on vacation this week. The past is still my present. I am trying to be still and let the painful end of a significant relationship wash over me until the wound is covered with a thin skin that I can begin to build a foundation on.

I don't have closure at the end of this relationship. I don't have peace. I am left with more questions and confusion than I had before, and a fragile vulnerability that is new and uncomfortable for me. I don't understand so much of what has happened, and at this point I doubt I ever will. This realization doesn't register well with my heart or mind. I believe in closure. I believe in seeing things to the end. I believe in saying what is left to say, and moving forward with answers...even if they aren't the ones you want to know.

I will likely have none of that. I just have to let the silence surrounding this hole in my heart soak in and maybe some of the questions will fade away. Maybe I just have to accept this new lesson in life - sometimes, it doesn't make sense. Sometimes, you get hurt. Sometimes, when you love...truly love...with your whole heart...you don't get it back the way you gave it.

So, in 2011 I vow to be more cautious with my one and only heart as I work on trying to heal the damage done.

This will be a year of slow steps as I search for stable ground. I will focus on finding my footing, taking my time to really let myself heal and see what emerges on the journey.

It's time.

Someday perhaps I will look back on 2010 with a different lens. One that is wiser, one that can see the meaning lying beneath the raw surface.

For now, I will just unravel the pieces of the year on my own timeline...and let 2011 just be.

Whatever it ends up to be.

Merry Christmas Dad

2010-12-28T16:31:00.008-06:00

After a rollercoaster 2 weeks, I drove back to Michigan for our family vacation on Christmas Eve. I couldn't wait to get home, and I can't even begin to explain how much I needed this break. How very badly I needed this time away to take a deep breath and find the strength within me to let go of the past and prepare to embrace a very different and hopefully more peaceful 2011.

Somewhere after Lansing...I got lost.

Bay City has been my hometown my entire life. After moving away "officially" at 21, I have commuted home from Lansing, Detroit, Boston, Madison...I have driven that drive so many times I could do it with my eyes closed.

On this trip, my mind was elsewhere. I was mulling over the past, wandering through memories both painful and raw, and sifting through the ashes of this year trying to find the lessons I need to take with me. When I realized the road no longer looked familiar, I was 20 miles off course. I was heading to the thumb of Michigan...just miles from Imlay City.

Wow.

I called my Mom, told her I was lost. She answered in disbelief - how did you do that?

In a small voice I replied...I have no idea. This has never happened before.

I hit the GPS on my iPhone and started mapping the backroads home. My sister called...we laughed...and I kept driving.

As I finally started closing in on Bay City from the east side of the river, I realized where I was. I was driving into town on the road of the cemetary where my father is buried.

I called my Mom, let her know I was in Bay City, then told her..."Hey Mom, I'm going to go see Dad on my way home, ok?"

I could hear her tears start to well up as she said..."Yes, that's ok, be careful...it's dark...be careful..." She was choking on the words.

It's been almost 10 years since my dad passed away. 10 years that still feel like yesterday. I remember every single detail of the day he died in our home. After he passed away at 1AM and the funeral home came to pick him up, I stumbled through the next few days leading up to the funeral...just as my family did...picking up strange snippets of memories to take with me while I discarded many parts of that time that I never wanted to remember again.

Here, on Christmas Eve, I found myself pulling into Floral Gardens Cemetary, driving directly to his grave...getting out of the car, sitting on his memorial bench after brushing off the snow...

And then I cried.

I cried for how much I miss him. I cried for how much it hurts every single time I go visit him. I cried for how, even in the dark, I can still see the entire graveside service almost 10 years ago.

I cried because my heart just aches without him. All the time.

I cried for myself and it was selfish...I cried for how much I need him. For how much I would give anything to hear his words of advice at this point in my life.

I cried because after this year, with all of the struggle and hurt and pain, I am not sure I have turned out to be the daughter he would be so proud of. I cried because I think he would tell me I lost my way, that I need to go back to the source, find myself again.

I cried because I know he would've wrapped his arms around me and told me - Min, you are going to be ok. Min, you are better than this. Min, I love you unconditionally but you have got to get yourself together.

I cried because I feel I have disappointed him as much as I feel I have disappointed myself.

I cried because I have a few dreams still left to live while his life was cut short. I cried because not only do I wish I could still share in his life, but I wish he could share in mine.

I promised him I would do better next year. I promised him I would be a better person. I promised him that I will live every day to the fullest, as he did.

I cried all the way back home to my Mom's house.

We talked about him for awhile that night. We talked about how much we missed him. My Mom's heart is still broken, and her tears still flow easily when she tells stories about him.

I got lost on the way to my hometown this year because in getting lost, I found my way. I went off course so I could find the map back to myself.

I just needed to visit my Dad.

My face hurts!

2010-12-14T21:59:00.003-06:00

Today, was a very good day.

We are shooting print ads for the brand I work on, and we had kids in the studio...one after another.

I fell in love with a little boy...he had curly hair, a huge smile, and a personality that was larger than life.

I was laughing so hard at his antics that my face actually hurt. I can't tell you the last time my face actually hurt from laughing and smiling. He was talking....talking....talking...about everything and anything. I just couldn't even keep up. All I could do was laugh.

Life is changing at a fast pace for me right now. It's like I was stuck in a frozen position for months. Spinning and spiraling...one hurt after another...and now?

Well, now I really feel like I am starting to find myself.

I wish I could talk about everything that I am thinking through right now. I just can't. I have a lot of good things going through my mind. Some of the things will take months to reveal. Some, maybe a year.

I will share them all here. A spring marathon - that much I can reveal. The others? Well, I'm on a journey and I hope to take my friends along with me.

It won't be dull. I promise you that.

Welcome Back Kotter

2010-12-13T22:46:00.003-06:00

My heart is still in Boulder.

But...as part of my renewal...the first steps to returning to myself...I have embarked on a new adventure.

I have decided to run an early spring marathon.

I haven't actually run a marathon before. I completed one at the end of Ironman, but to me, that isn't the same as the intense focus of marathon training with little or no reprieve in the form of swimming or biking.

I am excited to try. Very excited. I ran 3 miles tonight to seal the deal. I'm back in training.

I haven't picked the location or date for my new challenge, but I am considering Napa in March...wine anyone?

Boulder and Hope

2010-12-12T20:32:00.018-06:00

I spent all of last week in Boulder, Colorado. It was a work trip, we were on location shooting new print ads, and it was my first time there.

I was excited about the work we were about to do and I thoroughly enjoy the people I was heading out there with - they are exceptionally talented and their creative energy is enveloping.

However, I entered the week reeling from another intense situation in my personal life...another immense hurt inflicted by someone I thought was a friend, someone I thought I could lean on. I landed in Boulder with the crushing weight of hurtful words on my shoulders, and a pain in my heart that was as real as a physical vice grip.

I don't know if it was the incredible scenery, the amazing people, the friendship, or in my opinion, a wonderful combination of all three - but Boulder entered my heart, found the wounded and damaged parts, and coated them with something new - something unexpected:

Hope.

For the first time in quite awhile, I felt peace. I felt the aching in my chest begin to fade into the background. I can't say it was completely replaced by anything specific. Rather, it was the fading itself that was the feeling. I believe it is the start of healing.

Midway through the week, after revisiting the past and finding that I didn't want to dwell there...I wandered into a shop downtown to browse and clear my mind.

I walked out with a necklace, created by Baroni. It's a lotus flower, and the description captured the essence of my transformation:

The lotus flower rises from its murky waters to reach

towards the sun and sky.

Let this sacred lotus symbol be a constant reminder

of your inner potential and beauty.

I realized that the dark place I have been in has a purpose in my life, but it is not the purpose of my life. It has taught me lessons I have yet to understand and I plan to continue to search my soul and my heart for the answers to the questions I always seem to have lingering just below the surface of my thoughts. The same questions, I'm sure, so many of us share.

Yet, it's time to let go of some of the pain. It is an easy thing to say, but until you feel it - truly feel it - you are not ready to move forward. I forced myself over the past few months to get ready. To march on. To heal. And it never, never worked. The only thing it did was send me further down, disappointed that I couldn't even get that part of my life right.

I know now I just wasn't ready.

I'm not shouting from the rooftops that I am happy & fully healed. I'm not.

Boulder gave me the start. Boulder showed me that I didn't have to stay in that dark place. Boulder let me breathe. Boulder pointed me in the direction to find myself again.

Instead of shouting...I am whispering...

Thank you Boulder.

On Garbanzo Beans and Life

2010-11-23T19:22:00.012-06:00

Robert Frost is my favorite poet.

Just after graduation from Michigan State I took a job as an environmental education teacher for Horizons for Youth, which facilitated a big move (my first) from Michigan to Massachusetts in 1995. I was part of a team of mostly newly minted undergrads responsible for creating lesson plans and uncovering our own special talents in herding and entertaining 5th and 6th graders.

Talents in this area, for those wondering, include:

An endless catalog of camp songs to sing on a moment's notice
An untiring capacity to show enthusiasm and interest when listening to the most random of fun facts and stories
Some degree of counseling expertise to help navigate through the woes of first crushes and unrequited love
Patience
Patience. Yes, it needs to be said twice. At least.
And when that doesn't work - a staff room where you can hide, scream, pull your hair out, and eventually laugh with the other counselors about the ups and downs of the day

Classrooms would come to our outdoor education center & camp in Sharon, MA for 3-5 days as part of their curriculum, to learn more about nature, trees, animals, stars, recycling, and sustainability through hands-on learning. The camp had girls and boys cabins, and the counselors/teachers worked from 7am - 10pm, 5-6 days a week. We all loved it. We loved the kids, we loved the exhaustion, we loved the ability to get a train of kids to sing ridiculous camp songs while hiking through the woods on a 6-hour day hike, or sing songs about every kind of bean they could think of as we dismissed students in small handfuls to the dining hall.

Lyrics for the Bean Song are below, if you are inclined to sing along and are unfamiliar:

Bean Song

My dog Lima likes to roam
One day Lima left his home
He came back all nice and clean
Where oh where had Lima been
Lima been
Lima been
Where oh where has Lima bean
Repeat subbing different bean names for the dog.

We enlisted crowd support in naming the next bean...

Green bean! Navy bean! Pinto bean! Coffee bean! And the ever popular, always giggle-worthy...

Garbanzo bean!

I loved every minute of it.

At night, when we were assigned to "lights out" service, we had to go to the cabins and get the kids ready for bed. This was very challenging at times. It is amazing how much energy kids have. We could keep them out for hours on end, hiking and teaching and singing...and at 9pm...those kids had more energy than I have at the peak of my day.

We used our own discretion as to how to get a cabin ready for bed. For me, I found it helpful to set a "lights out" alarm. 10 minutes. Everyone get through the bathroom...get through the giggling...get through the chaos of running through the day's activities with your best friend and get into your bunk in 10 minutes.

I don't think it ever happened.

By the time they were actually in their bunks, and I turned the lights off...I felt such peace. I loved every single kid I got to meet on that journey, and that moment at night when I turned the lights off felt like the most perfect time of day. A time of reflection. A time to take a deep breath and celebrate life.

As counselors, we either read or told stories. I read. I read Robert Frost. I have two favorites - one is Mending Wall. The kids loved that one. They would ask questions about why good fences make good neighbors, and why can't people just all get along, and then tell stories about their parents and their neighbors and their best friends and their pets...

Kids are the best story-tellers because they have no edit mode, you pretty much get the full truth, and they laugh. A lot.

My other favorite Robert Frost poem I have included below..it is one I have returned to at different points in my life whenever I am facing a challenge or a life change or embarking on a new journey. Just as remembering those kids in those exhausting, fun-filled days can bring me a moment of happiness, this poem always brings me peace.

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound's the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

Giving the BIG CANDY

2010-10-29T20:20:00.007-05:00

Halloween is my favorite holiday.

I love, love, love getting trick-or-treaters. When I moved into my first real apartment after undergrad, I bought a ton of candy, got dressed up, and waited. And waited. And waited.

No trick-or-treaters.

Apparently, kids don't trick-or-treat at apartments in the midwest. A lesson hard-learned. Tears were shed, and a whole lot of candy was eaten in sheer disappointment.

When we first moved into a house...I came armed. I went to Sam's Club and bought the BIG CANDY. Yes, not only would we be getting trick-or-treaters that year...but we were going to be the house that gave out the FULL SIZE CANDY. Plain & Peanut M&M's.

10 minutes into the night, a little boy who was about 4 came running up the porch while his dad waited at the curb for him.

"Trick-or-treat!"

"And what are you this Halloween?"

"Batman!"

"Awesome...would you like Plain or Peanut M&M's?"

His face dropped. He looked horrified. I wondered if he heard me right. After all I didn't ask if he would rather have a root canal or a broken nose...I am offering M&M's. The elixir of the gods. The candy that has fixed 90% of the problems in my life at one moment or another.

He shrieked, "NO! I DON'T LIKE M&M's!"

Then he promptly wheeled around and ran, no - sprinted - back to his dad. I felt horrible, because I clearly offended the little super hero with my absolutely disgusting candy selection.

As they walked away, I heard his dad whisper, "You just take the candy. No matter what it is...you just say thank you"

I smiled. Spoken like a true dad. Take all the candy...he will eat the ones you don't want. I grew up in the era of Pixie Stix (that were almost certainly emptied and filled with poison) and fun-sized Snickers bars (that all adults were convinced were hiding safety pins). Oh, and the occasional handmade popcorn ball that had to be sourced from the right house or it ended up in the trash can.

My dad, ever the protector of his children, took it upon himself to "test" our Halloween candy to make sure it was safe. Despite our recommendation that we take the candy to the local fire department for the x-ray screening...he thought it was more efficient to use the "taste test".

Oddly enough, all candy was pretty much deemed safe without sampling...except the fun-size Snickers. From ages 6-12, I never ate an entire Snickers bar myself. No, not even the fun-size. I always inherited it from my dad with one large bite (sometimes 1/2 the bar) "tested".

Brach's peanut butter taffy? Safe. Those crazy Pixie Stix? Safe. Even Milky Way Bars? Safe.

Snickers Bar? The devil loves those things and all must pass inspection.

Although I was mortified that first Halloween, handing out the offensive M&M's...I still do. And I still get the BIG CANDY. Because life is short, and nothing beats that moment as a kid when someone hands you the BIG CANDY and you can't restrain yourself as you shout "WOW! COOL!!!!"

I want to be THAT neighbor.

Happy Halloween!

Thanksgiving

2010-10-14T21:05:00.006-05:00

I am always amazed at the power of friendships. How the people we choose to be part of our network or choose to devote our spare time to, somehow know when we need them when even we do not know.

This is interesting to me because not all of your friends come running at the same time. Rather, you find yourself in a down moment or in the midst of another sleepless night, or standing on the ledge looking across the precipice...

And your phone rings.

Or your text alert makes you jump.

Or your email inbox reveals just the right "Hey, was just thinking about you" sentiment.

It is amazing and it is also not an accident. Some of our friendships start out that way, as almost an accident. Random alignment of this crazy universe where you find yourself looking someone else in the eyes and suddenly feel a connection - if even for a moment - that makes you feel less alone. A connection that allows you to open up. Share a little piece of your soul. Reveal parts of yourself you tend to hide most of the time.

Once that connection is made - it is no accident when these people find you in your moment of need. Or you feel the compelling need to reach out to them even when you do not know why it is so essential. The connection lives on.

I have been fortunate in these last couple of weeks to have friendships rise to the surface and emerge from the darkness. While I tend to be a very personal person and keep my real life very private, I have also been relieved and saved by someone touching my arm or looking me in the eye and saying - "I care about you. I can tell you are not ok. How can I help?"

We don't really know the impact we have on other people. We can see simple emotions like hurt or happiness. Fear or anger. We cannot always see that our moment of eye contact or our gentle touch or our sincere question of well-being has saved someone's day...or more dramatically, their life.

What I have learned from my darkest hour is that I want to focus so much more outside of myself. I want to be THAT friend. I want to be the person who is suddenly there when needed.

Little by little, the days are getting brighter. Someday I may be able to talk about where I've been. What I've felt. The demons I have wrestled with.

Today, I just want to say thank you. You know who you are. Thank you.

On the Move

2010-10-03T12:58:00.003-05:00

Whenever I travel, I am reminded of a fundamental truth that escapes me when I get lost in my own little world...

There is a lot more world out there.

And a lot of people.

Which means, shortly translated - I'm likely not the only one who feels this way. I am likely not the only one going through a hard time. I am not alone.

Even when I am, I'm not alone.

Traveling, even for work, opens my eyes to different walks of life. Different realities. It reminds me that I can go anywhere, be anyone, live any life I want. If I am not happy with this particular path, I can pick myself up and make a new reality for myself. Feather a new nest.

I'm not ready to do that, but the thought itself gives me a kind of peace. When I travel, I meet new people and am fascinated by their experiences. The similarities and the vast contrast of our parallel existences is staggering.

Last week I was in LA, New York, Washington DC, and Chicago. Every day, a different city. In each place I was comforted by the pulse of life there. Each city had its own rhythm, it's own vibe. With each hop to the next destination, I let it wash over me. It was a hectic week but the energy I gained has helped propel me forward.

This weekend has been a major turning point for me. I feel like in the past I have said that...and then had to start over. This time feels different. My heart feels stronger. I have reached a point where I have to take care of me. I have to. I cannot keep doing what I am doing and expect different results...starting now, the strength I have inside of me will have to be enough.

One Day at a Time

2010-09-19T19:44:00.004-05:00

I feel as though I walk around right now with my arms wrapped around me, clinging to my sides, protecting me from all things hurtful, confusing, and disorienting.

I mentioned before I am broken-hearted. That sounds like a true cliche. Suffice it to say, it does not feel like that in my own life. I know, deep down, that things will start to get better. For the first time in a long time, I am hopeful that tomorrow is a better day.

I love my job. There's that.

Everything else will fall into place over time. This blog used to be my outlet as I navigated the crazy world of endurance sport and completed my first Ironman. Yes, I said first. I will be back again someday.

I return to my blog now in hopes of finding answers to so many of the questions that keep me awake at night. The questions I have are truly fundamental. Does true love exist? Can you ever completely trust anyone? If you give, and give, and give of yourself...will you eventually find yourself with someone who can give in return? How can someone claim they love you, while they cut you deeper than anyone else ever has?

Am I naive to believe in people? To believe in love? To believe that if I unconditionally love, I will be unconditionally loved in return?

Am I being too philosophical?

Perhaps.

These next 2 weeks I am really, really busy with work. Traveling this week and all of next...Chicago, LA, NYC, Washington D.C. It will be really, really good to be out on the road and away from Madison. For a million reasons, and 1 big one - it will give me perspective.

Right now, the blog will be a little less about sport, a little more about life. This is just what I need. This is comfort.

Just Me

2010-09-19T19:26:00.003-05:00

I got into the pool and I swam...for the first time in 2 years.

I doubt anyone still reads my blog, especially since I haven't posted in over a year. So this post is for me.

I swam.

I swam 1,000 yards.

I loved it.

I don't know what I'm doing. I only know this - my life is a mess. I am a mess. For the past 2 years - life has been complicated. And that, is an understatement.

So I woke up this morning and I said - that's enough.

It's time to get back in the pool. The pool, for me, is the most peaceful place on earth. Maybe it's because when I dip my head in the water I can only hear 3 things...my heartbeat, my breath, and splashing. No music. No words. No voices.

Not even the ones in my head. In the water, it all goes away. It's just me. It's just the water. And thank god for that.

If I could spend the next year in the pool - I would do that. I need a break from people and reality and a broken, broken heart. A devastated, destroyed, broken heart.

So here I am. This post is for me. This post is for a new beginning. This post is for the putting the past behind me and moving forward.

Just me.

It's not easy...

2009-06-20T20:38:00.003-05:00

I haven't gone on a run in weeks. So, in typical IronMin style...I picked one of the hottest days we've had so far this year to get back to it.

It was 80 degrees today in Madison. Which should be followed by "Finally!" and maybe even a "Thank God!"

It hasn't been a stellar summer on the weather front this year. Today was a beautiful day, at last.

I started my run at 10:45 am and it was already 70+ and extremely humid because we've had non-stop rain for a few days...so it was a tougher than usual "get back to it" run.

I did 3. I'm "training" for the WaunaFest (Waunakee, WI) 10 mile run in July and I think 3 is a decent start. It hurt, it was awkward, and I loved it. The sweating, the feeling like I might throw up, the reminder that it should hurt...hurt is what separates those who do from those who do not. If exercise was easy, everyone would do it, every single day. But it's not, it's a commitment, and not everyone can get there. I've been on my own rollercoaster for the past few months and before that - before Ironman - it was up and down too. It's a day-to-day promise to yourself to get out there and do it. Today I renewed that promise.

I felt good when I was done. Then I did a few crunches, just for good measure. I'm taking control of my life again. One step at a time.

The Real Slim Shady

2009-06-19T18:20:00.001-05:00

Well, hello again.

It's been 4 months. While on paper this seems like a very long time, in my life it seems like it has gone by in a blink.

For me, it's been 4 months of soul searching, living one moment at a time, and thinking. A lot of thinking. I'm working through some life changes right now on a personal level and while I don't have all the answers I need today to move forward...I do know it's time to rejoin the world. It's time to go through the list of all of the things I do in my life, pick the ones that mean the most, and start doing them again.

Like blogging. And running. And triathlon.

Hanging out with friends, talking with family, planning trips.

Being me. Maybe this is the way to find the answers I need.

So here I am. Like Slim Shady (he's from Detroit you know...my old stompin' grounds), I'm back.

Since it's the summer months (of which there are very few in Wisconsin), I've been asked a lot lately what I'm training for.

Nothing.

I had high hopes for the season which have all been sidelined. Now I am looking at the midway point in the year with weary eyes - this season is the season that wasn't.

One thing on the agenda for sure - volunteering for IMWI this September. Giving back to the event that gave me so much....

I am heading to Door County in July, where Johanna and Valencia are doing the half IM. I was supposed to do it as well, but I haven't started training for it so I think it's out of the question. I will be a very enthusiastic cheerleader though, for two of the people who cheered the hardest for me last year...

So to summarize: I'm back. I don't know what that means yet, but I'm back.

I don't

2009-03-09T23:31:00.000-05:00

I don't want to get lost in you -
no more lost than I already am
until I know how my feet feel
when they are underneath me

I can't take this hurt I have
and ask you to make it go away
no more than I should bring you my burdens
and you let you carry them for me

I know you and I are meant to be
there is no doubt, no fear, no question
so I choose to take this bad timing
and make it bad for both of us

We both need to time to feel out way
around this, over this, through this
and on the other side we will grow
and our lives will find their way

I pray you and I are together
in every way we can and should be...
I have hope it will work out, and faith in you
and more love...more love than I've every known

The voices in my head

2009-02-22T17:14:00.002-06:00

I wanted to do a long run today and despite A LOT of snow on the ground from yesterday, I decided not to do it on the treadmill. I'm so tired of the treadmill I could puke. So I layered up and set out.

I didn't know what to expect out there. I've only run outside twice this winter, mostly because I'm a great big wimp. But let me tell you this - only in Madison, Wisconsin do you find yourself saying "on your left" on the path about a dozen times on the day AFTER we got 7.5 inches of snow. You'd think no one would be outside. People in this town are seriously hardcore.

I wasn't sure how far I wanted to go but I knew I would feel it when it was time to stop. I needed some time to blank out and relax. In general, when I run I don't use it to think. I use it not to think. Right now I have so much on my mind it can be almost paralyzing. Running removes all the stuff from my head and just lets me be. Biking does exactly the opposite - I think, think, overthink, and think some more when I'm on my bike. Running is really my only escape.

In fact, if I lose the battle on a run and my mind starts with the thinking again, I tend to stop. Sometimes I don't even know I'm doing it. I just stop in my tracks and sort of slow walk until I realize what's happening to me. Then I force whatever it is out of my head and start running again.

Today, it was working. I was cruising along, the paths were clear of ice and everything felt good. Not a thought in my head. Then all of a sudden I looked up and a wave of unexpected emotion hit me. I found myself at mile 4 of today's run in the exact spot of mile 23 of last year's IM run.

It caught me by surprise. Here I was, in the middle of the run path, fighting back tears. Memories flooded back - it was dark, I was barely hanging on mentally. This was where I turned to Johanna who was on her bike and told her I thought she was crazy for being a marathon runner. Where my husband and Brian laughed at my comment. Where I then asked my husband if I was doing ok. Where the volunteer under the street lamp said "You're almost there."

Where I started to actually visualize the finish line.

I stopped for a few minutes while my eyes followed the path beyond that turn wind around toward the Capital Building, and took a deep breath.

Then I spoke a few words out loud that shocked the hell out of me. I promised myself that I would do another Ironman. Even after telling everyone that I wouldn't - at least not anytime soon (translation...not in the next decade) - I clearly heard the little voice in my head today telling me that one wasn't enough. The journey of Ironman is as much or more about the emotional and mental journey as it is about the physical. I don't think I've exhausted the journey yet.

10 minutes later at the 5 mile mark I turned back for home and smack-dab into a bone chilling headwind. And I promptly cussed like a sailor.

Hey, I didn't say I was tough enough to take on another Ironman THIS year. But 2010? That's an interesting thought...