Glory

Last night was my first Nite Moves of the summer season with my kids!  Nite Moves is the ocean swim and 5K every Wednesday evening.  This year the organizers added a special Kids Mile for the kids, so there is a distance in between the full 5K and the kids run in a circle on the beach.  It's a perfect distance for my kids and we were so excited to get out there.  We packed our usual pile of things - a big blanket to spread on the grass, some warm hoodies and jackets, sweatpants to pull on over our shorts when the ocean breeze turns cold, a football for Luke, and some red wine for the adults.  (They have dark beer for the post-race concert, but sometimes we are in a wine mood.) 

I debated about whether to run the 5K myself, but after an early morning bluff run with Terra and some PT work on my psoas and hamstrings in the afternoon, I decided to take it easy. Speaking of psoas, I was not aware that a) I had one, and b) that it needed work.  Apparently the psoas is the key link between the trunk and the legs, it is imperative for endurance, and core stability resides there.  Why I am just learning about this after 37 years is beyond me.  My initial report on psoas work is "ouch."  Emily is a wise and delightful PT from Britain, and I think I am able to endure this kind of suffering only by focusing on her accent.  She says step one is for me to become aware of my psoas (this will take a while), and then eventually the goal is to learn to engage it.  Oh my, something else to add to my work in progress list. 

It ended up being a blessing that I didn't run the 5K, because I felt compelled to trail behind my sweethearts running in the Kids Mile.  Two of my kids raged at the head of the pack and one lagged behind, having a rough race.  I saw my beloved athlete slow to a walk and the dejected shoulder slump signifying defeat.  I came up from behind and said, "Hi honey, want a friend to run with?"

I was met with tears, heavy breathing, and a sniffled response, "I am not a good runner.  This is terrible.  Everyone else is better than me."

Oh dear.  Not this.

Mommy (M): You are too a good runner.  There is a big difference between being a good runner and having a good or bad race. Rough races happen to everyone.  A good runner is anyone who has fun and tries their best.

Bummed Out Athlete (BOA): I STINK.  sniff

M: It's okay.  We can walk for a while.

BOA: Do you think everyone else is finished by now?

M: No, there are still kids behind us.

BOA: (more tears) I bet you never cried in a race before.

M: You want to make a bet?  Come check me out at mile 23 of any marathon if you want to see some tears.

BOA: (small smile) Really?

M: Really.  You can ask my friends.

BOA: Were you embarrassed?

M: No way.  I was just focused on trying to finish, not really caring so much what I looked like at that point, or even what my time was. I just wanted to do my best all the way to the end, and it wasn't easy for me.  It's usually not easy for me; I guess that's why I like it so much.

BOA: We can run some more, my cramp feels better now.

M: Okay.  You stay ahead of me so that way you set the pace and I'll just be here.

BOA: Mom?

M: Yeah?

BOA: Thanks.

M: Anytime. You know you can't be a good runner without handling some bad races.  I'm really proud of you. 

We are close enough to see the finish line at this point, so I veer off the course and watch my runner take it on home.  It isn't easy to be present for three people, cheering for some without going overboard and bolstering others without making them feel coddled.  We walk a fine line as we shepherd these precious people into becoming. But anytime they cross a finish line, a piece of my heart crosses over too.

It made me think later, when the moment had passed.  It is impossible to be a good runner without bad races.  Just like it's impossible to be a good artist without messy creations, or a good parent without fumbling, or a good friend without failing, or a good spouse without missing the mark.  We can't do anything well, not one single remarkable thing, without reaching far enough beyond ourselves that we are bound to fail from time to time. 

The glory is always somewhere in there.

PB&J

I woke up at 4:00 this morning, staring at the wooden beams on the ceiling of my tiny, cabin-like bedroom, barely bigger than my bed, and could not get back to sleep.  Today is a huge day -- my kids fly into town this afternoon!  They have been with Daddy for three weeks, which is the equivalent of three months in mom years.  I have definitely made the most of my solo time -- enjoyed my time in Austin and now in California.  I finished my manuscript two days ago (Yip!), and have had fun with friends and some downtime doing my thing (reading, knitting, running, trail running, farmer's market, beach) between stints at my computer.  It feels good to work with the windows wide open, so different from the pod-like life of an air conditioned summer.  I am aware at all times that I miss my children. Even in their absence I still see things that are invisible but to the perspective of a child.  Adults walk blindly past bird's nests, lizards, and cats peeking out behind tires all the time, did you know that?  When my kids are gone, it's like the phantom limb effect; I am aware of an odd ache but when I reach for it, there is only air.  Or it's like the constant sensation of forgetting something and returning to a room, only to stand there, stupidly, unable to recall what you came for.  Or looking for lost keys with one hand while you hold them in the other, or missing sunglasses that perch on the top of your head. I feel like peanut butter without jelly -- filling, but not as sweet.

So today is a grand day.  I am thinking of tying a bouquet of helium balloons to the back of our beat-up old VW convertible as a goofy and exuberant welcome home for them -- and a symbol to myself that everything weightless and colorful has returned once again.

Three days from now I will be bristling at their fighting and attempting (unsuccessfully) to be heard without raising my voice.  I am aware of this part, too, and it makes me laugh.

My two running highlights of the week include the following:

I did a 2 1/2 hour trail run on Saturday morning with Terra.  I am not sure there is a better way to get caught up with a good friend then a nice, long haul up a mountain. She saved my life while we were up there, screaming "SNAKE!" in the nick of time, as my next foot strike would have landed squarely on top of a rattlesnake (which looked suspiciously like a branch, except for the rattle and the huge lizard poking halfway out of its mouth).  My kids loved that story.  I was glad to be alive and well and able to tell it.  YIKES.

The weekly race Nite Moves was last night.  I met my dear friends the Allisons and while Jamie and I ran the 5K (not setting any course records, but happily running with our signature matching perma-grins) their daughter Kate ran the new 1-mile course for kids and took third place.  We celebrated in our usual style, making an island out of our blanket, eating fish tacos and ice cream cones, drinking wine, and listening to live music.  We lingered longer than most, not wanting our summer kick-off to end.  The cool beach air turned cold and we wore sweatshirts with the hoods on, looking like Jawas from Star Wars until it was time to go home.

There's more to say but I need to sign off and go stock up on some groceries.

Think of us today, as our family reintegrates, and if you feel weary or frustrated with a loved one, think for a minute how much you would miss them, in the silence of their absence.  And then love them... like a heart-full of helium balloons.