Who am I?

 

Years ago, blogging was the in thing.  Everyone had a blog.  People wrote things that were funny, or insightful, or they just simply journaled.  I threw myself into the ring and used my blog for all of the above.  Then Facebook came along.  Within months everyone ditched their blogs and jumped to Zucker's space and then eventually all kinds of other social media platforms.  I did the same.  However, the last several months, I am feeling the pull back to my own spot on the www.  I enjoy writing.  I like pounding out my thoughts or experiences in a much longer form than that of a few characters that other places allow.

So I made the New Year goal in 2022 to get back at it.  Go back to what I really love and journal in a place that doesn't prohibit me from expressing my true feelings and if, God willing, my children or grandchildren ever want to know the REAL me, they can come here and find it.

How often will I write or share?  I don't know.  Regularly I hope.  Enough to satisfy myself.  And except for a short period in time about 11 years ago, I keep my blog public.  If someone stumbles on it and finds it amusing, great.  If they find my words on a particular post inspiring, even better.  If they hate every word I ever type, so be it.  Whatever.  Am I the best writer?  HAH!  Far from it, but I like using my words the same way I speak soooo.... there's that.

Some thoughts rattling around my brain the past two days:  Back in August 2021, I had an appointment with my sports med Orthopedic doc that changed my life.  I have recently been diagnosed with "severe osteoporosis" and been dealing with some foot pain that isn't going away.  He told me that running was no longer an option for me.  I'm at too much of a risk for more stress fractures, or worse a fall that could be devastating.  I cried a lot.  Took months to process and tried to come up with a new normal.  I've started intense daily treatments for the osteoporosis, walking, using my stationary bike and wearing a weighted vest for weight bearing exercises.  All trying to stop the bone loss and encourage new bone growth.

As runner for most of my life, being told no more is crippling.  However, I changed my mind set and decided I could volunteer at my favorite trail races, and maybe speed walk a few of the shorter distance races.  Cool. Great plan mCat.  So with this mind, I registered with my running tribe for the traditional St George Half marathon.  My plan was to build up time on my feet and speed within the walking parameters.  Enter the holidays, between sickness, time constraints and overall stress, I didn't get the work done.  I have found I can get to about 6 miles before my feet are unbearable.  So sadly, when we got down to St George and checked in for our packets, I transferred to the 5k instead.  What a loser!  When you've been ultra distance running, a 5k feels like a big fat nothing.

St George sunrise

Saturday morning came around, we drove to the start line, got our picture together and then my girls started.  15 minutes later it was time for the 5k.  I meandered over to the start line chute and gradually walked forward to a comfortable place in the crowd,  Started loosening the legs, started my music, got my Garmin ready and reminded myself to just walk.

I love these women like my sisters.  Brenda, Joni and Mindi

Whelp.  The race started, and damn if I didn't start running.  I literally couldn't help myself.  I started talking to myself to adjust fire.  If I ran the whole thing, best case scenario was I would give myself shin splints.  Worst case scenario was.. I don't know.  I don't know just how bad my bones are, all I know are numbers from a dexascan and the diagnosis.  I could fracture something.  So I willed myself to walk.  I was miserable.  Now I needed to adjust fire again.  What is a workable plan I can live with?  I allowed my self to run a tenth of a mile, then walk two tenths.  I did this for the whole 2.75 miles and then I was like "to hell with this" - and ran to the finish.  Only 3.10 miles.  That's usually a warm up for me.  My friends wouldn't be done for another hour and a half at least so I decided I would walk some more and try to get more miles.  But first I'd check results.  You see, I moved into a new age category, so the odds of placing in my age group rose.  The last several years, I have taken first or second in my age group.

Well damn if I didn't place 3rd!  Okay, only 4 in my age group, but hey!  There was a cool award that came with it. I called Splenda Daddy laughing and told him my good fortune, but also had to confess that I cheated and ran some of it.  I collected my prize, took it to the car and then walked the course backwards until I could get the miles I felt okay about and that my feet would tolerate.

My girls finished, we changed clothes and headed home.  Another weekend, another race with my besties.  This is the life I love.  However, as I noticed their fatigue and sweaty bodies, I felt so left out.  So unfulfilled.  So jealous.  So sad.  I've set a goal that if I can get myself out of the "severe" category, I'll let myself run again.  Stick to my treadmill and the trails that are softer than the road and go back to enjoying what I love.  But that didn't help this weekend.  That's months away if not another year.  It didn't help the grief I was feeling.

As I drove home I kept thinking of the way my life used to be.  Running every day.  A race every weekend.  The adventures of training and exploring new places to run or race.  The highlight of the Boston marathon I ran in 2014.  The exhilaration I felt after finishing my first 50 mile race.  The ice baths I would take, the massages, the hundreds of running shoes I've retired over the years.  The friendships that I have made through the running community.  Becoming a certified coach.  Running has defined me.  It has been my life.  Actually, just being active has been my life, since I did many triathlons and century rides over the years.

And now what am I? An old lady who has health issues?  A washed up has-been?  That's what I feel like.  But no.  I am not those things.  I am more than that.  I'm still trying to define what that is but I know I am more than that.  I'm a lot of things, but old and washed up ain't it.

I think that's my quest for 2022.  Find out what those things are.  Beyond the obvious - wife, mother, Mimi, daughter of God.  I have more in me, and I'm going to try and find out what they are and cultivate them.

So cheers to the new year.  Cheers to finding ways to stay involved in the running world without wallowing in my grief.  Cheers to finding new talents and passions to add to my life.   Cheers to you.

Traditional Beaver chair picture

Onward and Upward my friends.

xoxo

mCat

Why the sun, some trails and some time away with your tribe, gets you thinking about relationships.

Hey, wanna take a road trip with the running tribe?  Maybe get some trails in and relax?  Why yes, I do!

My running tribe planned a trip to sunny St George but at the last minute, Joni couldn't come due to an injury that makes us all sad.  Anytime, something strikes that stops one of us from running, we all mourn. It's our unique friendship.  One heart knit together with our passion for running and our love for each other.  It's something I treasure more than words can express.  At any rate, Joni stayed home and the rest of us hit the highway and headed south.

A picture in the Beaver chair.  Tradition.  Always.

Mindi found a sweet condo for us to stay in so after grabbing some food at a cool Peruvian food place, and then delivering some running shoes for my boss, we settled in for the night.  My running tribe has the ability to talk each other's ears off about anything and everything, or we can sit quietly together, each doing their own thing and still be perfectly content.  This evening was like that. I worked on work things, Mindi read, Brenda caught up on a Netflix show.  So relaxing.

Saturday morning we got up early and headed to a trail in Hurricane that Brenda knew about.  The More Cowbell trail.  I haven't been cleared to run yet, but she did say to add in more things as my foot can tolerate.  This trail was mostly flat with just a little incline and decline.  Perfect to test my foot out on.  So as Brenda and Mindi ran, I walked and enjoyed the fact that I was ON A TRAIL!! I ended up doing 5.5 miles and my foot felt great.  The other girls got in the miles they wanted and everyone was happy.

Found me a little lizard friend - Larry

Back at the condo, Mindi and I headed to the pool for some serious sun worshipping.  I can't even tell you how happy it made me.  I baked while working some things out in my head, I read, I eavesdropped on others around me and then baked some more.  Brenda eventually came down and again, just hanging out doing our own thing, perfectly comfortable with it.

For dinner that evening we fought the crowds at the Pizza Factory, took it back to the condo and again everyone settled in for evening doing their own thing.  I did some more work stuff while keeping an eye on the riots and protests over the death of George Floyd, but that's a post for another day.

Some peaceful protesters - even in St George.  I didn't really expect it.

Sunday dawned and we were slow to get moving.  We sat on the deck and enjoyed the morning before packing up, loading the car and heading to Zion's National Park.  It has been years since I've been there but both Brenda and Mindi had been there recent enough to remember the drill.  If you haven't been there it's stunningly beautiful!  They weren't charging to get into the park, but they also weren't running any shuttles into the loop where we can hit a trailhead and get a good hike in.  We had planned to try and hike to Emerald Pool's but the road was closed and there were so many cars parked along side the road that it was going to be impossible to get in.

Instead we continued driving and stopped in some pull out's to take pictures and then drove through the tunnels.  Since I was the one behind the wheel, I tasked Brenda with taking pictures where she could.

What happens when you let Brenda have your phone - love her!

Once out of the tunnels we continued driving until we could find a decent pull out.  We threw on our trail shoes, and headed down the hill and into a cool looking wash.  We explored for awhile and took some pictures.  Truly a beautiful place.

It was a weekend that I needed.  I needed to be with my besties.  I needed the reminder of just how much I love them and need to be with them. I heard something from Trey Gowdy this morning that went something like this: After our family, the next most important thing is our relationships with others.  I have besties that I love more than words can express.  Our memories, our trials, our struggles, our talks, our silences.  I have women in my life that I can't imagine not being there.
As beautiful as our surroundings were, more beautiful is our relationships.  Just missed you Joni.  More than anything.  

Celebrating Mother's Day with the Covid in 2020

Gah!  Stupid Cornonavirus!  Stupid Covid-19! 
Here we are 3 months into the isolation/quarantine/social distancing world and now it's Mother's Day.  What to do?  Lately, I'm only mothering Miss Maggie May.

Let me preface, as a young mother, I HATED Mother's day.  I've never been one for sugary sweet emotions and lovey, cheesy crap.  Don't get me wrong, I'm overly affectionate and a hugger that can be obnoxious but all the flowery, butterflies that tend to come with Mother's day makes me very anxious and uncomfortable.  Raising my children, I always felt like I was sucking at it all the time.  Every night in bed, I would feel such overwhelming guilt about how the day went.  Yelling, threatening, fighting, grumpiness....  I would want to throw up and beg God to make my children forget it all and help me be better the next day.  And then, rinse repeat.  I always felt like I didn't measure up to all the things the world was telling me that a good mother should be.  I worked full time, I had little patience, I dealt with my own anxiety in a horrible way and I always felt like I was a terrible example to my boys.  Oh the swear words!!  I wasn't close to my own mother during those years so I was forging on my own and in my mind doing a class A shitty job.  Sadly, going to church always enhanced my feelings of guilt, so I often made excuses to skip that week.

And then they grew up and went about their own lives.  I watched them turn into amazing men.  In their own individual ways they are stellar human beings doing good things with their lives.  They have become father's to their own children and I am amazed at how damn good they are at it!  Of course, they had the best example in their own dad, but I'll save that for Father's day.  In spite of my own shit show of a mother, they turned out to be incredible people!

I still feel guilt.  There are things I would certainly change if I had to do it all over again, but I also realized that all mothers suffer these same feelings.  We all feel inadequate and that we are in way over our heads, but we muddle through hoping for the best.  I came to realize that I can't change a thing and that through it all I  loved my children more than my own life.  Even if I didn't communicate it very well, I LOVED them.  I can live with that.  And,the fact that I can help pay for their therapy too.

This weekend, I was grateful that my kids wanted to come over and we got very creative in how we did it.

Thankfully, I have children that are flexible and willing to adapt.  We staggered visits between Saturday and Sunday so that we could see all the kids and grands, keep our distance and limit the risk of infection.  I would be crushed if any of them got sick because of me or Splenda Daddy.

Saturday afternoon Corbin and his girls came for lunch.  The weather was perfect so we sat on the deck catching up, jumping on the tramp and riding the 4 wheeler.  All things that we tend to do when the family is together.  All memories that I hope imprint on my grandkids.

Later, Preston brought his girls and hung out for awhile.  They were so excited!  They love sleep overs and coming over and it's been hard to not have our usual time together.  They loved doing all their favorite things.

We took some flowers to Dave's mom.  She is in an assisted living center and she is on lock down, but gratefully she has a balcony and we can chat outside.

I sent some Crumbl cookies to my Mom so we didn't risk anything with her.  I asked her to send a selfie with her cookies.  This is so classic her.  I love it!  I love her.  And I especially love how our relationship has become what it is.

Felt like I should post the latest pic we have together since she doesn't selfie very well.

Sunday, Luke and Mindy came with their boys and again, the weather was perfect so we had some fun outside and the boys loved playing with all their favorite things.

Such a perfect weekend!  I was able to Marco Polo  Karalee and Montana so I did get a chance to connect with every single one of my children.  I couldn't have asked for a better Mother's day during the pandemic.  Hopefully next year, we might all be on a lovely vacation together.  I can hope but for now, this was perfection.

I know longer hate Mother's day. I don't embrace it and  I still feel guilt but I suppose that's just the way it is.  Maybe the guilt is there to remind me to love them that much harder. 
Even if they are grown ass men.