Today...

5K (or "Just keep swimming...")

Today was my first ever 5K race.
I started training at the beginning of August for this run, and even though I've run the same distance (or more) several times, today felt big.

My goal was to run the whole race, without stopping to walk even once.

As I lined up at the start line, I looked around at this gigantic crowd wearing white t-shirts, tu-tus, and feather boas. Some had sinewy such runner's legs, and some looked... more like me. I felt just like I do before I go down a big waterslide... only this one was 3.3 miles long. And then the doubts, oh, the doubts! I hadn't trained enough for hills. I didn't run enough this week. It was bitterly cold, so my knees hurt, even with braces on. I felt a bit like an imposter: a walker, pretending to be a runner.

We counted down, and we went.
Down, down, down a hill. Then up, oh, up and up and up. It felt brutal.
But the kilometers came and went. I earned each color, all the way to the balloons at the Finish Line.

And I didn't walk once.

Celebrate.

Via.

For my 33rd birthday, I celebrated by...

1. Putting a candy bar and a note in my mailbox for the mail lady.
2. Paying for the next car in line in the McDonalds drive thru.
3. Taking treats to the child-care center at the YMCA. (They are so good to my little ones.)
4. Giving a treat to my personal trainer. (Irony.)
5. Canvassing to get out the vote.
6. Putting away stray carts at Walmart.
7. Bought a gift card at Walmart and turned around and handed it to the lady behind me.
8. Volunteering for lunch duty with my daughter's class.
9. Giving a treat and a note to each of my kid's teachers.
10. Muffins to the poll workers at my local Early Voting station.
11. I voted.
12. Chips and salsa to our local volunteer fire department.
13. Treats to my OB/GYN and his office.
14. Treats to the nurses in labor and delivery. (They do such a great job.)
15. A balloon and a smoothie to a random brand new mom on the L&D floor.
16. Tape quarters to vending machines.
17. Treats to the ER nurses. (We've been there...2? 3? times this year?)
18. Drop off cookies and juices at Bright Blessings, a great organization here that hosts birthday parties for homeless children.
19. Drop treats off to my favorite librarians.
20. Have lunch at a small, local cafe that is struggling to stay in business.
21. Take treats to a good friend who is going through a rough patch.
22. Drop donut holes off at the sheriff station.
23. Play checkers with my son. (Yes. That counts as a service. I don't do games. *grin*)
24. Sing extra songs to all my kids.
25. Make 75 baggies of caramel corn for our ward's trunk or treat.
26. Scatter lucky pennies.
27. Pick up garbage.
28. Take bags of toys and clothes to Goodwill.
29. Watch neighbor's kids to help them out.
30. Take someone dinner.
31. Make cookies for neighbors.
32. Rub my sweetheart's feet.
33. Give to humanitarian aid.

I am exhausted. Next year, I would definitely spread it over several days, but it was a FANTASTIC birthday...

33.

From Pinterest.

Tomorrow is my 33rd birthday.

To celebrate, I'm planning The Grand Day of 33 Nice Things--a whole day of service projects. (I was inspired by this.) Today I am getting ready--making my list, calling ahead, baking and prepping. It is going to be great.

Won't you join me in celebrating? Do something out of the ordinary tomorrow for someone else. I'd love to hear about it.

3.3 Miles (or 5K)

Image credit here.

3.3 Miles, people.

That is 5K.

I did it.

And yes, I cried.

3 Miles (or "The Blessing of a Headwind.")

From Pinterest.

Tomorrow I will run 3.3 miles. It will be the furthest I have ever run. And, to be totally honest, it may be the furthest that I ever will.

Last week, I completed 3 miles, so this should feel do-able. Yep. No problem. The first mile should feel easy by now, right? And the second mile? Pshaw, done that. Lots of times. And it's only a mile further to 3 miles, and one more lap to a 5K. No biggie...right?

Oh, my fellow sufferers, so wrong.

3 miles still feels like a whole different person away. It feels as achievable as a size medium, which is to say: not achievable. 

This. is. hard.

But. I am learning the blessing of moving my body uphill and into a headwind.

When you are forcing your legs to move even just a little bit uphill, you appreciate the oh-so-delicious little downhills. The little bursts of an inside curve. And if you stop to notice, when you are running into a headwind, moving at a glacial pace and feeling positively geologic in age, you'll find that the headwind is forcing fresh, cold oxygen into your lungs and your muscles don't hurt quite so much. Plus, where there is a good headwind--there will be a good tailwind.

So tonight I'm charging my i-pod and telling my brain, over and over, that I can run 3.3 miles. That a 5K is within reach, and--just beyond that--a 10K. That I could do that, too... if I wanted to.

2 Miles (or "Hard Things"...)

Graphic from here.

It is after midnight.
I am sitting in my quiet house, at my laptop, because this is when I have time to do that.
Baby is sitting in her bouncer, laughing to herself in her sleep. (Please let it be in her sleep...)

I'm running 2 miles now. Can you believe it?! Two whole miles. And you know what? It is hard. Super-duper hard. Agonizing physical work. But I'm really grateful for it, especially lately.

My oldest daughter is in third grade, and she's pretty much failing. Can't focus. Can't complete assignments. Fails tests. Takes hours and hours to do homework. I'm e-mailing furiously back and forth with her teacher. I'm playing phone tag with the school guidance counselor, and savagely researching every possible option and solution. Do we pull her back a grade? Do I bring her back home to homeschool? Do I coach her through this day, this week, this month, this year--only to have her struggle through next year, too?

So my heart wrestles and aches as I sit by her side at the table and watch her self worth take hit after hit after hit, and I think "This is hard." Then I love on her and I give her hugs and I pack her lunch and prepare to send her off for another day tomorrow.

It feels brutal.

Last week, I took one evening to take her to the Disney Store, just the two of us. We dreamed and laughed and she chose her Halloween costume: Merida from "Brave." We had such a good time, drowning our sorrows in pixie dust. She is so much braver than I, really. She is doing hard things--really hard things--every single day.

So I run. I run like I'm trying to escape her demons for her. I run to drive my feet into the pavement and try to carry some of the hurt. I run because I can be stronger, for her.

Because I can be brave, too.