goodbye friend...

on monday, i learned i lost a friend.  a friend who impacted my life in ways i never expected.  this is a tremendous loss in my small little world, but i imagine anyone who knew him is feeling a tremendous loss.

i had put on my facebook status monday: Jason Titmus, you are one of the most influential people i have ever had the pleasure of knowing.  although my time with you was short, the footprint you left on my life is huge.  you will be missed. 

there are people who come in to your life that change you.  sometimes those changes are bad, but that wasn't the case with J, he changed my perspective of the world and persistently challenged me to be better.  he simply didn't accept that this heather, the heather right here and now, was the best i could be.  although that persistence annoyed the hell out of me, i couldn't be more grateful.

the hardest part of learning of J's passing was telling my kids.  i have never had to tell them that someone they know and cared about has died.  i wasn't sure how to do it and was actually dreading it. do i tell them a story?  do i just say, "hey guys i have something to tell you?"  or do i simply stop holding back the tears and let them initiate the conversation?

i went to pick up miss p from gymnastics and she was quick to notice something was wrong.  at the very moment she asked me what's wrong, the setting sun came streaming through the clouds overhead, tears started rolling down my face and i shared with her the news.  normally she doesn't stop talking about her day and gymnastics, but that afternoon she sat quietly in the backseat of our car.  i peeked at her in the rear view mirror and she had tears rolling down her face.  instinctively i reached back and she grabbed my hand and held it tightly the whole ride home.  when we got home, we hugged for a few minutes and she said, "he is in a wonderful place now mom."

ash was harder to tell.  ash and J bonded.  i'm not sure if it is because they are both males, but they just seemed to understand each other.  i asked ash to come into the kitchen.  you see hanging up in my kitchen is a picture that J drew one afternoon when he was sitting on my couch with my kids.  i asked ash if he remembered J.  he immediately perked up and exclaimed, "vapor, liquid, solid".  it was one of the many things J taught my kids.  then ash asked if he was coming for a visit.  i had to tell him that he wasn't going to be coming.

ash's face fell, his shoulders slumped, and he turned away.  he tries so hard to be a "man" he doesn't like me to see him vulnerable.  i wrapped him up in my arms and ash started sobbing.  once he stopped crying, we sat on the couch and ash recalled all the things J had taught him and laughed at the time J wore my pajama bottoms, because i was washing his only set of clothes, and read a skippy john jones book in the craziest voices we had ever heard.

my kids seemed to take the news fairly well.  since monday, we've talked about him, sharing our memories and wondering what his new world is like.  thank you J for sharing your world with me and my kids.  we will miss you immensely.

unflattering pictures...

if you've run any organized race, you know that there are cameras everywhere.  whether it be hired, professional photographers or your random cell phone users looking to capture something crazy to post to social media.  it is kind of hard to escape the cameras.  i remember the first 5k i ran, seattle's st. patty's day dash with my girlfriends.  we had trained and trained and were concentrating hard on running our best.  we hardly paid attention to the photographers lining the streets of the race. when we scanned the posted pictures there were more than a couple of unflattering photos of us.  we vowed to pay attention the following year and "pose" so we would have a picture worth keeping or at the very least post to social media.

when i ran the half marathon a couple of weekends, i remembered to be on the lookout for the photographer.  i had seen him prior to starting the race taking pictures of all the groups of women who were running together.  there was a group supporting their favorite football teams, there was a group with all matching outfits, there was a group running in support of a family member, etc.  i was running by myself so i didn't make the cut, but that was okay i knew who to look for.

early on in the race, i saw him up ahead.  i made sure when i ran past him i gave him a two thumbs, my regular toothy smile and made sure i wasn't making a poop face. for some reason when i run, i scrunch my face up like i'm pushing, but i'm not, just concentrating.  i saw the same guy at the half way point and again somewhere on the way back.

a week later and the photos are finally posted.  i found myself in the pre-race group shot.  it wasn't super hard, i knew i was right up front behind the row of kneeling ladies

so i eagerly scrolled through the rest of them looking for my two thumbs up shot.  i knew that would be the one that would get picked for adding to the photo book of the race, but i couldn't find it anywhere.  so i went back through the photos and finally found myself.  i couldn't believe it, i look certifiably crazy.  in the picture, i'm coming into the finish line.  i don't recall seeing the photographer guy anywhere, but clearly he was there lurking on the sidelines waiting to capture the most unflattering picture he could possibly take.

i've shared the picture with my family and they died laughing.  i couldn't possibly have posted this picture single-y on my facebook page, but i'm swallowing my pride and sharing it now.  i really hope i didn't look like this the entire time and i'm thinking i would rather look like i'm going number two than this...

13.1 miles...

six am, my alarm goes off, but i had woken up a few times prior to my alarm buzz.  it is race day, a day i have been dreading, because i know that i am NOT by any means ready.  when i signed up for the race, i was really gung ho.  i had months to prepare myself.  all was going great until school and the kid's sports schedules started.  about that same time, i slept funny and hurt my neck.  that took a good week and a half to feel better.  when my neck felt better then i lost enough daylight hours to continue training.  

so, six am and it's race day.  i laid in my bed thinking just don't go. nobody will ever know.  i wanted more than anything to fall back asleep and claim that i slept through my alarm.  i even thought out how i could "fake" that i ran the race, however i didn't feel very good about that, so i climbed out of bed, got dressed and headed out.

i really wasn't looking forward to thirteen miles of running.  the longest i had gone in my training was six, just shy of halfway mark. i knew i was going to struggle and i didn't want to struggle.  i have a healthy competitive side and really wanted to do my best.  

so there i am with 300 other female runners and five male runners.  some people were in crazy coordinated costumes and some, like me, were just in boring old running attire.  normally i get all swept up in the festivities of a race and join in the hooting and hollering at the start of the race, but this time i was very subdued having an internal conversation you can do this just keep moving forward. 

regardless of how much i'm training, the first mile is always the hardest one for me.  it takes me a good mile to find my groove, regulate my breathing, relax my shoulders, utilize my arms just right, adjust how hard i'm pounding my feet into the ground, and adjust my music device.  by the end of that first mile i've found my groove and things are generally going well.  

for this race, the end of the first mile was the start of a mile long winding descent on a mountain biking trail.  i kept thinking this is going to be rough as mile twelve coming back.  i kept my snail's pace on the trail but stayed light on my feet for the descent.  i have fallen more than once going down hill on a mountain trail and really didn't want a repeat performance. 

mile three was steep switch backs out of the valley we had just descended in to.  i haven't done much hill training, actually i haven't done any.  i don't like hills, they stink. at this point, i was behind two ladies barely running, but still running.  i was totally fine to follow them and trudge up that hill to the top because i knew i wouldn't over exert myself.

once we got to the top, i really found my groove.  the trail that we ran was an unpaved back woods type trail.  it was kind of gravely, wooded, with a heavy canopy over the trail.  the rain started about mile four.  for clarity, it had been drizzling from the beginning, but the heavens opened up and it really started raining around mile four.  it was somewhere in between miles four and five i found myself behind two ladies who trained together.  i could hear them talking about how far they've come as runners and were recalling how it wasn't that long ago and getting to just this point was hard for them.  i was kinda missing the camaraderie of having my own gal pal, but this was a personal challenge i had to do alone.

around mile six, the rains still coming down, my music stopped working, which also meant that my mileage tracker stopped working.  for awhile it was just me and my surroundings.  big rain drops from the trees above, that clean earthy smell you get when it rains, my feet hitting the ground, and my breathing.  it was actually really peaceful and i was feeling great.  at the turn around point my music and mileage tracker came back on, but i turned them both off because i was actually enjoying the peace of the run.  unlike most times when i have no background noise my mind is on its own journey, but for today i was just running.  

the return was going great until i hit mile nine.  i was feeling fantastic, my breathing was good, my lungs weren't tired, but my legs started protesting, actually they were yelling at me to stop running. in general i have pretty bad knees and hips, my knees actually hurt everyday, but i just ignore them, however the shooting pain coursing between my knees and hips was excruciating.  i thought to myself  you are not trying to get an olympic qualifying time, flo, there is no need to overdo it and injure yourself so i decided to walk. walking was definitely easier than the running, but my legs were really hurting.  i kept a brisk pace, trying to keep my heart rate up and i had a goal to finish by noon.  i was racing the clock at this point and although walking was easier on my legs, i didn't think i would be able to make the noon deadline. 

i had come so far, i was super proud that i was able to make it nine miles without stopping.  this accomplishment far exceeded what i thought i would be able to do, but i couldn't walk across that finish line.  mile thirteen and i started running again.  most people probably wouldn't really call it running, but it wasn't walking, skipping, jumping, or galloping so it must be considered running. every step hurt like the dickens, but i had to finish strong.  

overall it was a great experience.  i didn't meet my deadline, i missed it by 15 minutes, but i finished and finished strong which was far more important.  i will definitely be doing another half marathon, just because i AM going to run the whole darn thing.  i will probably pick a different race, maybe one that isn't a backwoods trail. and maybe next time i will find a running partner, because it would have been way more fun to do this with someone. 

until the next race...

turning in my mom card....

this morning i failed as a mom.  i know every mom has been there, so i know this isn't a defect in my mom skills, but i am still feeling the guilt.  i think overall i am damn good mom.  both my kids seem to have goals and passions, some of them i don't care for but they are true to themselves.  they both understand what proper hygiene is even if they don't want to comply.  they both have a healthy sense of humor most of the time at my expense.  they are both kind and respectful of every one except for each other. they both understand the importance of living a healthy active life even though they desire fried food, ice cream, candy and movie marathons.  really, i couldn't ask for better kids, but i'm telling you sometimes those angels trade in their halos for horns and forked spears and suck the very soul out of me.

how is it that kids can be the most selfish creatures walking on this planet?  i know kids are, by design, dependent on their grown ups to provide, instruct, and lead them; but there is a fine line between being a loving helpful mom and a glorified slave to your children.  in a fifteen minute span, this morning, i was the lucky recipient of at least nine demands disguised as requests:

mom, will you brush my hair?

mom, will you make me waffles for breakfast?

mom, will you get the knots out of my laces (as the shoes are thrown at me)?

mom, can i get my haircut after school?

mom, can you sign my reading log?

mom, will you rewrap my wrist bandage?

mom, can you find my under armor?

mom, can you pack me a lunch?

mom, you forgot insert anything that doesn't benefit mom!

mom?

Mom?!

MOM?!?!?!

i try really hard to answer these demands pleasantly.  you know trying to model good tone and behavior for my angels, but i admit as the demands persist my tone changes to exasperation.  the "yeses" and "whats" from the first demand change to an elevated, "WHAT? what could you possibly want that demands my immediate attention?" by the last demand. 

it's not that i don't enjoy assisting my angels when they truly need mom, because i do. but when i'm just as busy as they are getting ready in the morning, this isn't the time to make frivolous demands. what's a frivolous demand you ask?  mom, will you brush my hair? i'm standing in my robe, my hair is quickly drying into a medusa-esque style and my twelve year old wants me to brush her hair.  that is ridiculous, brush your own darn hair and while you're at it can you brush mine because i just don't feel like raising my arm above my head?  i'm guessing she would look at me like i was an alien from a foreign planet.

or this mom, can you find my under armor? again, i'm in my robe, with my hair quickly drying into a medusa-esque style and my ten year old wants me to find their clothes? this is also ridiculous, i don't wear my son's clothes, i don't undress my son when he wants to change, so no i can't help you find the clothes you wore, took off, and probably stashed somewhere in your room other than your laundry basket.  maybe if you took two seconds to put your clothes in the laundry basket so i could wash them and then put your clothes away you could actually find them, but since we are making ridiculous demands hey son, can you find my pink bra?  i have like 10 other bras but i like that one the best and i haven't been able to find it.  i'm pretty sure he would decline my request.   

so, basically i lost my mind this morning.  i just couldn't hack the constant barrage of demands, on top of the messy house that i know i will have to ask for help to put back in order, on top of my own personal things that i still needed to get to like get dressed, attend to my hair and make my own lunch, all to get out of the door on time to pick up my carpool kids.  a flurry of words, some not kid appropriate, flew out of my mouth at rapid speed with one basic message:

i am ONE person!

handle some of your own stuff!

hopefully tomorrow will go better.