Snowy Day in November

I am one of those crazy runners, no matter what the weather (for the most part) I'm still out there getting my miles in.  Today was no exception because it was snowing.  I wasn't missing this one, I was going for my run.  I love running in the snow, from Lake effect living in Cleveland, to Nor'easters living in Swampscott Mass to the OH MY GOD we got 1 inch of Winston Salem, NC.  On Beech Mountain the snow started at midnight, I just sat at the window watching the fat, wet, flakes come down.

I waited until the temperature got closer to above freezing, then put on my layers and made it out into the snow.  There is nothing like it.

Everything is quieter when running in the snow.  Even your footsteps are muffled.
Everything looks cleaner when covered in white, today the snow clung to all the branches of the trees making them look like tall snowmen.
There is a peace in running outside your element, in changing your gate because you are slipping a little bit, and pulling off the gator taking a deep breath of the cold, moist air.

I found gratitude in this run because as my feet hit the trail, I thought of those who could not run.  I thought of a few Thanksgivings back when I wondered why my mother couldn't keep up on our "walks" like she used to, both of us trudging through the snow.  She had surgery two weeks later finding out there was a brain tumor, so yes, her gate had changed, she was dragging a foot.  I remember talking during that walk, about nothing in particular, but the snow made our conversation sound like the only thing on that street, muffling out all the normal noises so we just heard each other.    We walked the morning before the busy Thanksgiving holiday, enjoying the quiet, the solitude of doing what everyone else in the house thought was crazy.

As I started up my hill, I thought about how thankful I am for my health.  That I can get out in the craziest of weather and still exercise and love it.  That I may be getting older and much of my times are getting slower, but I am moving to the point of just getting out there means I won.

My thoughtful gratitude was interrupted when a pickup truck slowed down and stopped next to me as I was climbing the hill.

"Are you all right?"  A little old man asked from the pickup truck.
I look at him, "Yes, I'm just running."

And it occurred to me that either I was:
A.  Crazy for running out in this weather, or
B.  I really did look that bad running up that hill.

My Childhood - Darwin at Work

When I was a kid, and no, we didn't walk 28 miles in the snow both ways up hill to school.  We were much more creative than that on ways we could die.  It is amazing that some of us lived into adulthood, and actually procreated - guess some of us are outwitting Darwin.

Truth or Dare.  This was not the sweet game you see on TV where the girls ask you if you kissed Johnny Angel or not.  Our truth or dare usually involved some type of life threatening issue - mixing concoctions from the spice cabinet and making the younger siblings drink it.  "Some on it only has ketchup, hot sauce, pepper, mustard, vinegar and something I found hidden in Mommy's room called cyanide.  Drink it or YOU LOSE!"

The Slap Game.  We didn't have video games, or even videos.  We invented the "slap game" that's where one sibling would slap the other's thigh as hard as they could.  Who won?  If you didn't scream, (which didn't happen too often) then you won.  If you did scream?  Mom's angry hand came back into the back seat for the first head of hair to pull - insert little sister here.

Make Mom a Drink.  Sure I've heard, "I always have to get up and get you a glass of wine."  Well, when I was a kid, we made DRINKS.  I remember making martini once for an elderly uncle at my Dad's 50th birthday party and one relative mentioning, "Look at Dick our there.  I've never seen him play football with all the nephews."

Same stupidity gene, but we survived it.  I think that population control puts a gene in all kids to see if they are strong enough to survive it.  The gene that makes the certain things a great idea:
Riding down the tallest hill in the neighborhood on a tricycle with no breaks.
Trying to do a front flip out of the second story of a house they were building because the pile of dirt underneath looked "soft."  (Ripped both sides of my Toughskins when I landed and limped back home)

King Of The Hill.  A large rock on the hill that whomever stood on was "King."  It was everyone else job to dethrone the King by whatever means possible.  It meant throwing them off the rock, pushing, taking the burning tree limb and touching them with it to just doing what I did, while everyone else was belting it out to be king, I'd sneak over to the rock and stand on it pronouncing, "I am King!"

Survival of the Fittest.  We'd run into the peach orchard behind out back yard, take friends as far as possible, then listen for the dog chains of the Farmer's dogs.  We'd all run, the slowest, we figure, becoming dog bait.  Not sure if the dogs actually existed but it did make me a better runner later in life.

Lazy Days on the Beach.  All the parents sat in a circle on the beach on weekends, drinking highballs while we floated lazily out to sea on large tire tubes or boogie boards.  And that one time I had to be saved by the lifeguard?  Well, since they were to busy chatting with the neighbors and didn't see it, well it didn't happen.  Cute lifeguard let me walk away (wouldn't do that now.)

Long Drives and Safety.  Sure there were seat belts in the car, but what were they for.  They didn't not work for us kids as on long drives, one would lie across the floorboard, one across the seat (the one that won the luck of the draw) and one would lie across the back window.  How comfortable is that?

See with all that destruction, we all survived.  Sure there is a few pins in the head, and a year I don't remember clearly from falling off the bike without a helmet on, but here we are.

What are your kids doing to try out Darwin's theory that you haven't noticed?

SMH Edition - parents edition

My parents crack me up.  They have their little quirks that sometimes make me shake my head.

Current problem.

They have a little brush that they like to run across the dryer lint filter.  Are you asking what I am thinking, why do they have a brush to do it.  Is it a specific "This Is Your Dryer Lint Brush" or some idea that my father in law came up with?  Maybe seeing the brush reminds them each and every time to clean out the lint filter for the dryer.

Add another item to the laundry room and you're asking for trouble.  Of course, it has happened already.

They dropped the brush down the dryer vent.

Yep, it went clear down the vent.  To the bottom.

And you can hear it banging away every time they turn on the dryer.

Call to the sons for a rescue:

One spent half an hour with a yard stick and a broom trying to reach the little brush and get it out of the dryer vent.  "I took most of the dryer apart trying to get to it, I couldn't reach it."

No luck.

Call the other son.  The "Tool Man." And yes, he has the right tool.  He has a long "grabby" thing that he thinks will grab the brush and liberate it from the bottom of the dryer vent.

Of course my father in law now has had to wait a day for the arrival of the grabby.  During this weight everything in the house must go into the dryer, and each time he turns the dryer on we can hear a "Dammit" heard from the washing room as the banging in the dryer starts.  I am pretty sure he didn't sleep last night, worrying about the brush and how to get it out of the dryer.

This morning, they are still worrying about the brush, so we get the phone call, "What time is your brother coming with the 'tool?"  You know they got up, forgot about the brush, turned on the dryer to banging followed by a "Dammit!"

"Not sure."

"We have a doctor's appointment today."

"OK, is it for you or Dad?"

"You know, I'm not sure."

"Well, what time is it?"

"Funny, I'm not sure about that either."

So hopefully there's a completed set of doctor's appointments, and brush sitting back on the dryer by the end of the day today.

Of course, they'll start using it again to "brush" the lint off of the dryer, lying it back in the same exact place.

And we all know where the brush will end up.  Now don't we.

RIP Tiffany #PRGRUNSFORTIFFANY

Domestic Violence - get informed, get help, get support.

I am a member of the Pathetic Runners Group on Facebook.  It is a great group of ultra endurance, marathon to the I finally ran 1 mile continuously runners.  This is a fun group full of good humor, lots of great tips and camaraderie.

There was a poster in the group Tiffany, who was writing about being in an abusive relationship.  All of us encouraging her to seek help, to take the steps to leave.  With four children in the mix, things were hard for her.  She got into running as a first step for her, one of her posts mentioned that her husband was upset with her changing for a healthier lifestyle.

Her posts were funny.  They were exactly what the group was looking for - "pathetic."  She used the group for support, then posted a picture of her crossing the finish line of her first 5K.

"Well if you ever wondered what a Stevie Wonder look alike runs here it is. Pathetic. I'm obviously not the prettiest of runners but my 5K time was 33:12. Only been running for a few months."
  
This post came in September when she made her decision.
"Okay fellow pathetics. You probably remember me from the sunglasses and other crappy husband issues. I have asked him for a divorce and hoping he will move out without Incident. Tonight he told my 13 year old daughter that he was going to get a new wife with kids that were better. I need prayers that I get thru this and fir strength.

Her last post?  "Maybe that escalated rather quickly."

Now I get up this morning and find out that her husband killed her and her father, leaving four children without a mother, and a online group wondering why?

You see, to many people, online friends, though we never have met, are still just that  - friends.  We support each other, we open up about situations in our lives and through our friends AND online friends we make decisions.  There are many times when we read a post by a random person in our group, and we cry with them.  We show them there are people that support them.  It could be taking that first step out the door, or it could be a complete change of life.  Tiffany made a decision to start running, getting healthy for her children.  She then took the next step in removing an abusive spouse from her life, only to have it tragically taken from her.

The outpouring of support in this group has brought me to tears as we all go out and run a few for Tiffany, many of us never knowing her in real life but connected to her in our virtual lives.  The sound of footsteps as I run makes me think, "is someone running with me?"

So if you are thinking of going for a run, then do it for Tiffany.  We are using the hashtag #PRGRUNSFORTIFFANY and have set up a memorial fund for her poor mother, someone I may not know but has lost a husband and a daughter.  Tiffany once posted that "running helps me deal with all the stress of life" now she can run fast and free.

If you wish to donate, here's the link:  http://www.gofundme.com/hi7org

Nothing like the smell of Snomax in the morning! Can I make it through the first day.

I've been waiting all year for the sound of snow guns going off on the mountain.  You'd think I'd be excited that snow season is starting for us.

I dread it.

No really, you haven't been in my house the first day we go out on the snow.

It is hell.

All of our hats and mittens are supposed to be in the Hats and Mittens bins in the closet.  Unknown to me, the little minions got into those bins several times over the summer and they exploded into the great unknown, along with a few essentials.

Here is my first day on the snow:

Nobody can find a thing.

Since I am the only one with boobs in our household, my family figures  mine will point them to their missing equipment.  While this is happening, I am being followed by minions complaining that they only have one glove, and their facemask smells like butt.  While they are telling me this, the dear wonderful husband is following them explaining, that "all of this costs money, and if you put things back where you found them then they wouldn't be lost, right?  The facemask could smell better if you got it off the floor under your bed and kept it in the Facemask Bin."

No of this helps as I think about hiding in the pantry for ten minutes with a spiked cup of coffee.

One the human homing device finds gloves, hats, facemasks, helmets- we move into round two.

Why do my kids always have this urge to use my husband's stuff.  He puts his goggles on and finds that the lens are scratched.  Turning to oldest child he asks, what happened.
"Oh I had to use them for mountain biking, mine were too small."

Photo Courtesy of  +Brian Twitty 

What?  I got back up to the pantry closet contemplating a shot as my dear sweet husband has a full conversation with the child about how hard he works to get this stuff and someone always uses his stuff and breaks it.  I wonder, "Why in the hell after 13 years do you still touch his stuff?  Why?"

One year my dear sweet husband was convinced that someone stole his ski pants.  After using my double decker homing device while listening to the boys giving suggestions to where his pants could have gone, I find them in the bottom of a drawer.  See, told you the boobs work.

Another year, the kids decided that his ski shirts were perfect for the summer, so the first day of getting everything together I could not find a single shirt for him.  Let me tell you how much fun that is.  This year is was the search for his favorite socks, of course they were in my son's room.

We gather skis, poles, snowboards, helmets, goggles (including scratched ones), gloves, face masks, hand warmers, and all climb in the car heading over to the resort.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

"Mom, I forgot my ski pass at home."

The conversation as we turn around and head back to the house to get the pass consists of "I told you to check and see if you have everything," followed by, "I asked Mom to get it."

Thanks son, throw me under the bus.

Well I could add that shot of whiskey as I go back in the house to get it.

Taking Care of the Small Stuff

The hubby and I were sitting and talking about how life can throw so many things your way and how you deal with them.

"You know, I can't think of any time either one of us really fell apart?  I guess we are lucky."  He says.

"I know, I think when my parents died and all the lawsuits that came with it, that could have caused me to fall off a cliff but I didn't let that happen."

Thinking about that conversation, I think there are a few things that helped keep my sanity when things should have fallen apart.

1.  Don't let the little stuff bother you.  Seriously, if you start stressing on the little stuff, when the big boulders roll along you'll never be able to handle it.  So what if your child doesn't have his life plan in order by the time he's, say 13.  He'll figure it out.

2.  Be flexible.  Life is all about Plan B, there is always a change to everything that happens, good and bad!  You have to learn to roll with the punches, even if it means that your favorite restaurant is closed (the new one you tried was a keeper!) or when an ailing parent asks you to cook something that requires a trip to the grocery store and a revamp of your plans?  Flexibility because looking at their face when they tasted what they wanted made all the inconvenience worth it.

3.  Remember this too shall pass.  When you are sitting in the shit, be it toddlers diapers, older child's stomach virus, to elder parents diaper, this too shall pass.  And being in that moment reminds them that you love them enough to put up with their shit.

4.  Let them be a person.  Kids want to be independent, parents as they get older want to be independent.  Let them be that way.  Take care of the business that needs taken care of but let them still feel they are independent, they will thank you because you give the the biggest gift, their identity.

5.  Hold true to yourself.  Don't lose your identity to another person.  Whether it is being Mom to a family, to being a caregiver to a family member, keep your identity intact.  You need to take time to be yourself, even if that means sitting quietly in an art gallery collecting your thoughts.  If you lose yourself to the task you are there because you have to be, not because you want to be.

6.  Know that time goes by fast.  Children grow up and move away.  Adults eventually pass to the other side.  Every moment that you are with them is something to tuck away in your memory banks.  make the best of a bad situation, read the newspaper when chemo is making them sick, put them in a wheelchair and get out and get fresh air, give them space to breathe.  Let them know that you are there if they need you, but don't take over the custodial role.

7.  Compartmentalize.  This allows you to live in the moment and deal with what is front of you rather than freaking out over the big picture.  When they were babies, it was, "OK, I can handle a few nights of no sleep," nothing thinking for the next 3 months I will not sleep.  When they are older and parents are going over diagnosis, treatment plans that involve weeks, months, years look at the task at hand and do your best with that.  Eventually all these little steps in caring for children and taking care of adults become a beautiful big picture that you are proud of.

8.  Laugh.  It is the best natural stress reliever.  When my Mom and Dad were sick, we watched funny movies each night, letting things go with laughter.  When my kids were little and I was ordering a meal at an outdoor restaurant while my baby shit straight out of his diaper into my lap, I laughed and kept on ordering.  Laughter is the best medicine when dealing with medicine, laughter lets you feel human again because it is always followed with a big intake of breath - a cleanse.

So think about perspective because I do every single day.  I look at the problem then compare it with the upheavals in my life, praying as they did CPR on a child that drowned, carrying a child with a broken leg for 6 weeks, sitting with my mother as they told her she had under 4 months to live, joking with my father that it is not "keno" it is "chemo," then dealing with greed and lawyers and losing what was your parents legacy.  Sucks?  Sure it does.  Does it make me a better person, I hate to admit it but yes.  Would I do it again, oh hell to the no.  But based on the lessons learned above, I am the person you know now.  So if your problem is whether or not you make a grade or your sports team wins or the wrong college acceptance letter.  There is a reason every single thing in your life happens.

You can let situations in life get the better of you, or you can take Plan b or d or g and continue on.  Either way life is going to continue on, whether you purchased a ticket for the bus or not.  As for me?  I'm getting on and continuing down the road.

What are some of your ways for coping?

Oh That D*mn Bubble!

OK, I hate talking on the phone.  It usually goes like this.....

My phone rings, I look at it.  And sigh.
Watch it ring.
Wonder, "Do I really feel like talking to them?"
By the time I realize I don't like talking on the phone, it has gone to voicemail.
They send me a text.
I answer the text

Now to my pet peeve on texting.  Iphone, you are turning me into a crazy person.

I am obsessing about that texting bubble.  Obsessing to the point that I actually yell to my phone.

Texting to me is like talking to the person.  It is something that should be answered in a reasonable amount of time.  Most of y friends realize this, but those few that do not.

I send a text to a friend.  Asking if they want to do something.
I see the word delivered.  So I KNOW they got it.
They don't respond.

Here's my conversation with my phone, in the middle of the grocery store:

Why don't you respond?  I know you received the text.
I know you GOT IT.
Just answer the question!
Why aren't you answering?

Then there is the maddening little blue bubble:

I send a text to a friend with an Iphone.
It says delivered so I know they read it.
I wait anxiously for a reply.
My heart skips a beat when that little blue bubble pops up.
They are replying!  They are replying!

Trouble starts when I see that little bubble pop up

And nothing happens.

I watch my phone for the bubble again, my mind hits overtime.

Why are they not hitting send?
What are they typing.
Is it something mean?
Maybe I should text them again.
No, that's over texting
Oh, there's that bubble again.
WHY AREN'T YOU SENDING, I SEE YOU TYPING.

Throws phone down and starts walking away.

Beep from phone says text was received.

Go back with anticipation, then bummed it was a different friend texting.

Start the cycle all over again.