To the Baby Girls Part 2

Dear Baby Girls,

This letter is not addressed to your sisters from Panera Bread that I bumped into a few years ago.  I hope they have graduated on to bigger and better things including big girl jobs, big girl beds, and have traded out bathtub vodka for Pierre.  

I'm writing to the ones of you who are out there quietly trying to survive the grind without drowning yourself in some kind of indulgences -- i.e. boys, drugs, and drinks.  

I'd specifically like to speak to those of you who are hiding behind a wall.  A large, beautiful stone emotional wall.  

You don't put yourself out there so you frequently feel as if you go unnoticed.  You may or may not think you're beautiful, intelligent, creative, crafty, funny, or (fill-in-the-blank) ENOUGH to be noticed.  If you don't have those thoughts at least once a week we gonna need to talk because I think all normal women have that programmed in genetically.  

We love to look at one another and those flat girls in magazines.  We then compare our image of ourselves on our absolute fattest, dirtiest, I don't even want to put on a bra kind of days to those painted and primed girls who seem to always have it going on.  I'll say this, comparison is the thief of all joy sister.  

Yep.  

I bet if those phantom beauties could talk they would tell you they have days where they hate make-up, bras, and boys too.  I bet they have screamed in frustration when a paper towel roll unraveled in their kitchen or went into the pantry for some Cheez Its and the box was in there on the shelf...completely empty.  I'm not a betting women, but I'm willing to go a step further and say they probably have at least mentally ate a whole pint of ice cream on a bad day.  

Just saying.

We all have our finer moments screaming in the pantry.  You though.  You have these moments but feel like you shouldn't let it out.  You're in the midst of inner turmoils.  You're trying to figure out this tangled thing called life.  You're dealing with good and bad relationships with boys, girls, dogs, and anything else that holds the breath of life...including yourself.  You spend your days smiling and your nights crying.  Bless your heart baby girls.

You're scared to show others the underside of your armor.  You validate it by saying no one cares because you're not (fill-in-the-blank) ENOUGH anyway.  You think your interests, thoughts, and struggles are scary because they don't match up to this glittering perception in your mind of what they should be.  

For this one time, glitter is not your friend.  Don't follow the glittery signs.  The signs contain lying thoughts streaming over and over constantly leading you into deeper and deeper isolation.  All of the sudden you relinquish your power and they are stealing whatever joy, comfort, and security you feel in your natural talents and especially in blossoming relationships.  The anxiety, self-loathing, and fear cast you into so much darkness you can't see (believe) the subtle cardboard signs held by the people that love you that say you are ENOUGH.  

Take it from someone who recently knocked down the wall like it was the Berlin wall in the 80's.  Oh...you don't remember that.  Well how about from someone who knocked down the wall like Miley Cyrus did in "Wrecking Ball?" ..... 

You don't have to fight the fight behind your stone wall alone.  I'm sure inside that wall is a secret garden.  If God's the Gardner the flower beds and plants will not be perfectly laid out, but the colors are vivid just like your personality.  The air smells like fresh soil because the ground is being broken and you're a work in progress.  There are seeds being planted and fruit taking form.  Don't be afraid to  let the people the Lord sends into your life to help pick up a shovel or rake and help with the heavy lifting.

I'll bring the skid steer and some Cheez It's.    

Bless your heart sweet girls,

Lendy   

A note to an old friend...

To my dear friend,

I remember the first time I met you.  Someone introduced you to me in the girls' locker room in 9th grade.  I wasn't sure where our friendship would lead but I felt a strange sense of pride and comfort standing there with you.

Over the next 4-5 years, we spent a lot of time together.  We changed together physically and emotionally.  You were never too fashionable, but neither was I.  Each new version of ourselves was better than the last though.

I loathed carrying you around during the summer, but loved your warm embrace in the winter.

You shared many laughs with me and our mutual friends.  Most of my closest friends were close friends with you too.  I still keep in touch with them today.

You held me close during some of my most fearful times as a teenager.  You were the Superman "S" when I needed confidence to perform under pressure.  Today I still remember your gentle encouragement every time I give a speech, every time I'm handling live animals, each time I get the opportunity to work the earth, and even when I'm experiencing tearful public disappointments.

The day we parted ways was a sad day.  I knew things between us would never be the same even though I'm privileged to still see you around today.  I've watched you embrace many other little ones, some of which I deeply love too.  I see you nurturing, protecting, and training them in the way only you can do.  

With convention coming up I can't help but think about you.  May you never fade away old friend.

I'm forever yours.  Forever Blue.

(A letter to my FFA jacket)

Letters from Lendy, " Dear early 20-something version of myself..."

Dear early 20-something baby version of me,

Set that beer down and come over here for a few minutes.  This must seem so strange.  Like one of those Hallmark movies where people travel back in time to stop their younger selves from doing something incredibly stupid.  I'm writing you this knowing I can't change your mind.  You're young, independent, and full of yourself.  I just wanted to share some wisdom with you that I hope you remember in the next 10 years and we continue to apply in the following 40 years.  "You don't need my help." Ha! Of course you don't.  I'm happy to report that despite all of your foolishness, we have come out pretty durn good so far.  Can I just tell you how well you're going to age sister? Yeah you know when you're 30 and all ancient and stuff.  People are going to look at you and still call you a baby.  What's that? You're not a baby you say?  Oh honey... Sit back, sip your beverage, and read for a few minutes.  

Hate to tell you, but there will come a time when you'll turn down Bojangles for a strawberry spinach salad.  "The hell you say?" I'm not kidding.  In fact you're going to run, lift weights, and work out 6 days a week.  You're going to spend Sunday nights preparing meals for the week rather than stopping by Panera Bread.  You're even going to drink coffee black.  Stop laughing.  Sweet tea will become too sweet for you but don't fret you're still gonna drink a glass of wine or two every once in a while.  We both know how incredibly self-conscience we are about our weight.  We've been told our entire lives we have a genetic predisposition to be plain, thick and overweight.  That's just not true honey.  And even if that were the case, the hateful, hurtful things that were said to us about our physical appearance doesn't define who we really are.  We will spend the rest of our lives processing this, but I've been told it becomes easier to believe the truth in time.  Don't give up.  Processing is going to help us realize that someday (maybe on death's doorstep at age 45) we're going to do something to reach out to other girls like us.  We're going to help them believe they're lovely, and get healthy mentally and physically.  

Keep wondering about that guy Jesus.  I know He sometimes pops into your mind between all those important thoughts you have about yourself.  (Rolls eyes)  Ask questions about Him, talk out loud to Him, maybe crack open that bible Aunt Lisa bought us 10 years ago.  I'm regretting your lack of thoughts towards Him right now.  You will forever remember and love the way our old church smells like dusty books and freshly polished wood.  You will still cry when testimony is given or people talk about Jesus' sacrifice for you.  Stop denying you cry.  God forbid we have some feelings.  You'll realize those tears come from somewhere deeper than just empathy.  I'm not going to tell you where just yet.  God is teaching you how to be obedient and you don't even know it.  There are still many, many lessons to learn.  Right now you're still living like the prideful little brat you've always been.  Don't worry, you will look back in the not so distant future and see how He is pursuing you and protecting you from your bull-headed self.  It will take multiple wake-up calls, some intense emotional pain / loss, and finally a few blessings before you'll understand what I mean here.  Just trust me that our relationship with Jesus is the most important relationship we'll ever have.               

I'm going to regret saying this....Listen to your mother.  I'm cringing here 10+ years later.  I must say I STILL don't always listen to her but dang if she isn't right when it comes to knowing stuff about us and what's good for us.  You haven't stopped gritting your teeth when she claims she's right.  By the way, she thinks you're starving yourself and you're too skinny.  Some things don't change.  Not to get all philosophical, I think we all have to just go our own way and learn things on our terms.  We could save ourselves some wounds, healing time, and scars if we'd just listen when the people who love us and know us try to speak reason to us.  She may not always go about it in the best way, but someday you're going to realize she's only seemingly fussing at you because she loves you and the ache she feels when you hurt is just as intense.  Someday you'll wake up and start seeing your parents in the same light as you see yourself.  People.  People with feelings and unique personalities.  They are imperfect and they fail, but they deserve the same grace and consideration we think / hope we can obtain when we screw up.  Having said that, the "told you so tone" she uses is just as annoying in the future as it was ever.  Just tell her you're going to do what you want and then file away what she says to think about before you make any decisions.  Saves face, but watch out for that silent treatment though... it's rough.        

We're still learning how to trust and rely on others to support us emotionally.  Deep breath... we're sensitive.  I heard that scoff all the way here in the future....that's going to be a difficult realization for you around age 28-29.  Just wait.  We are not as strong and impenetrable as we think we are.  By building up our emotional walls we've been well protected these past 20 something years but we've denied ourselves some desperately needed counsel and affection from the wonderful friends and family we have around us.  The sooner we figure out how to balance our independence with quality dependence the better off we will be.

Oh and by the way, the fall off the judgement seat of our high and mighty horse is a long fall.  Your ego is gonna hurt after that one.  It's actually shattered some for the better.

Suffice to say when you graduate into your 30's you're going to realize how simple it is to dream dreams and set goals, but it's even more simple to make excuses as to why they cannot be accomplished.  You'll realize this after you fight with your personal trainer about meal preparation and giving up half & half in your coffee.  You're going to really admire and appreciate folks who dream big and then work to make it happen.  You're going to want to be a part of that even if failure is involved which isn't always comfortable for you.  We are growing.  

Your work wagon is loaded my love.  It's only going to get worse as you further your career, try other new things, and maybe give into the world's wishes and have some babies.  Now we're both laughing.  Don't let your priorities and creativity fall by the wayside because you become overwhelmed with the obligations of the daily grind.  Where there is a will, surely there is a way.  Yeah, now I'm sounding old and cliché.  There are a lot of other important little nuggets I wanted to share with you but this letter is getting long and it's getting extremely late.  I wanna wrap this up before you think it's okay to crack open another beer.  You may not love me right now, but you'll learn to in time.  If anyone else reads this letter they're going to realize how challenging the pronouns were.
"What are pronouns?"  Great question.

LJ        

Letters from Lendy: Dear Jesus....

Dear Jesus,

It's me, Lendy again.  I always begin our convos like this and You always remind me You know who I am.  (Isaiah 43:1).  Thank You for this brief season of rest leading into the new year.  As I sit and reflect on this past year and all that I hope the new year brings, seal it in my heart and mind You are still King no matter what lies behind us or before us.  Thank You for all of the blessings...the new babies, nuptials, sweet time with family and friends, good health, and material provision given in the past year.  Thank You for walking with us (me) through the challenges and heartbreaks.  There have been quite a few.  As one woman so candidly put it, "I don't have to understand, my God understands for me." Takes a lot of pressure off of a weak vessel like myself.

We are on the cusp of a new year, another new season.  Rather than write out a list of my 2015 ambitions, I've sending up a list of petitions.  Lord please hear my petitions for myself and my loved ones:

• Please teach us to number our days.  To value and use each moment You have given us to Your glory. 
• Lord help us to leave the heavy lifting to You.  Let us set down our pride, ambitions, anxieties, hurts, our futures, and our pasts before the throne and trust that You will use it all for our good.
• Lord help us to be good stewards of the material provisions and spiritual gifts You have bestowed upon us.  
• Please help us to seek truth and discern it from the world's lies.
• Please teach us to love others as You do, extravagantly, and not according to the world's standards.  
• God, make us desperate to spend time in Your word and in prayer.  Make us thirsty for You.  
• Lord, heal those who are physically or spiritually hurting.  Please use us as Your hands and feet to help and support them as You see fit.
• Bless the seeds of truth You have planted in the hearts of unbelievers.  Please work through us to serve as salt and light to them and to those who have yet to hear Your gospel.  

Lord, there are lots of other petitions I could offer.  There are several specific items I could pray over.  People with sick family members in need of healing, those who have lost loved ones, people seeking employment, still other people seeking a fresh start and better days in the year ahead.  I know You're listening and we will visit over them as situations arise.  Given the dark days lately, I do want to close by asking for special protection over our country and a spirit of peace that goes beyond all understanding.  The hearts of so many are filled with hate these days.

We love and praise You,

LJ

There is something oddly peaceful about a hospital in the middle of the night.  The bright fluorescent lights are dimmed from suntan stun level to the homiest glow they can muster.  As I walk the deserted halls all I hear is deep breathing, soft beeping from some machines, and the steady hum of the air unit.  I'm thinking if I never see the inside of a hospital again that would still be too soon.  

Mikey's daddy is dying.  Very suddenly but also very slowly and painfully at the same time.  Mr. Johnson's past medical history is very complex and he is very fortunate that after 2 organ transplants he has lived an additional 17 years with fairly good quality of life.  It seems now that his body has just had enough and is turning against him for the last time through his blood.  It is amazing to me that here at the last he still knows who we all are, tells stories in detail about friends and family from the past, and is deeply concerned about our future once he, "goes home." He made me promise to take care of his "buddy." I only promised to not give him anymore gray hairs.  :) 

This has been a truly heartbreaking week.  Mrs. Johnson's quick diagnosis and death last Fall was tough, but this is worse if you can imagine that.  Mikey relies on his Daddy.  He calls him to ask questions.  They religiously discussed sports, especially racing, and they are both sickeningly in love with their iPads.  :)  When I had food poisoning last week, Mike slept on the couch while I puked my guts up and our little dog enjoyed my tainted chicken sandwich for the second time.  Less than a week later, I've witnessed the same man literally feed and help his Dad drink fluids since he can no longer do it for himself.  He has helped his Dad do things that most of us would blush even thinking about.  Mikey has gone with very little sleep or peace and had to face decisions this week that no one should ever have to face.  He has done it all without complaining and only letting his guard down in private.  I have so much respect for my husband's incredible strength and unselfishness in the face of such heavy burdens.

In typical fashion I'm trying to be strong and calm in the moment while I feel like I'm coming undone on the inside.  Aside from watching this physically and spiritually big and strong man slip away, it is soul crushing to me to watch Mikey endure yet another great loss.  I have to take long walks and get it out of my system.  Tonight I walked to the chapel.  Jesus and I ate a bag of baked cheddar ruffles sitting on the floor.  He listened while I cleansed my eyes and my soul for a good hour and after I was done He showed me some messages that other people had written to Him and left in the Chapel.  He was listening because these people were also discussing some of the very things I had laying on my heart.   

         

I begged for sweet mercy for Mr. Johnson and forgiveness for my ungratefulness.  Watching someone who is losing their life express how appreciative they are for material provision, of all the people they love or have loved along the way, and the second chances they were given (even those not taken) will convict and slap some sense into an ungrateful heart.  Lord, I've been living in a fog but I know someday I'll understand completely.  "For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then I shall know just as I also am known."  

Please pray for my sweet Mikey and for his Daddy.  I know many of you already have been, and for that I am truly, deeply, sincerely, eternally grateful.

Letters from Lendy -- Baby Girls

Dear young college girls behind me in line at Panera Bread:

The fake valley girl accent you're using was old in 1998.  You're in college... "adorbs" is not a word.  How drunk you were last night and how you were sleeping in a bathtub this morning is not funny at all.  The very sound of your high pitch laughter, too short / tight clothing, and total lack of self respect makes me cringe, feel annoyed, and worried about you all at once.

Maybe I haven't had enough coffee this morning, or maybe if you could hear my thoughts you'd say that girl is just a jealous hater.  I mean look at me.  Rolling in with my hair pulled up, no make-up, old yellow shorts, camo crocks, and a t-shirt.  This has always been me.  Awkward and country while you slept in a tub full of vodka but are made-up and rocking jacks and juicy couture straight from the page of Cosmo.  Part of me wishes that I could have been more "put together" like you but definitely not enough to change at this point.

Take it from your 30 year old sister, you may always enjoy / like the finer things in life but at some point those tubs will become too hard to sleep in.  The booze will cause you to feel worse than any of the problems you had before you started drinking.  You'll realize that true love doesn't happen overnight, and boys in bars don't necessarily make good daddies and husbands.  People will respect and take you seriously if you can carry on a conversation without using weird slang every two seconds.  This will be important as you look for jobs and determine what you want to be when you grow up.  2 out of 3 of you will not find a permanent paid "MRS" position while you're in school.  Instead of talking bad about your girlfriends while they're in the bathroom, learn how to have each others' back and love them well, because true friends are hard to come by and even harder to keep.

I sincerely wish you well on your journey.  The social drama may seem super important and consuming now but paying bills, working 40 hours per week, maintaining good relationships, and being a big girl will make all these things seem like fun.  Figure out who you are, have fun, but be safe.  I'm praying for you.

Now move over so I can get my hazelnut coffee and tell me where did you find that cute Louis V clutch?

Bless your heart baby girls,

Lendy

Taking it to the mattresses....

I have only heard the phrase, "Taking it to the mattresses," used in the 1990's Meg Ryan blockbuster (*sarcasm*) "You've Got Mail." Apparently it's a famous line from one of "The Godfather" movies and it references mafia members hiding somewhere other than at their house. I thought it could also be a great lead in to one of those little novels my mama used to take to the beach. Either way I just ripped it off because I've got an entertaining story and it happens to involve...you guessed it...a mattress.

For the past two days I've been taking one of my team members out into the district to meet with some very important volunteers. Yesterday we drove all over the northern counties and tomorrow we will finish up in the western counties. Today we both had various errands and tasks to complete so we drove separately most of the day. This afternoon we left Durham together and were both headed back to Raleigh on Interstate 85. Meg was right behind me because she's from down east and has no idea what's heads or tails in Durham and traffic was pretty intense. Right before our exit the large box truck directly in front of me slammed on brakes and before I really had time to get the words, "What the..." out of my mouth a full-sized mattress blew around the back of the truck and landed directly in front of me. Now, everything happened in a matter of 3 seconds but just like in those cheap made-for-TV movies time slowed down and I saw myself from the outside processing the situation. My options were to swerve left or right or hit the mattress. With two lanes of traffic on my left and two lanes of traffic on my right at 70 mph it could have / would have been extremely messy. My greatest fear period was that whether I hit it directly or just glanced it that the mattress would throw my truck into another lane of traffic or cause it to flip. Having only driven smaller cars my entire life I totally underestimate how tough and heavy my truck is. If by some luck I drove over the mattress with no issues then it would still likely be right in Meg's path. My options did not seem all that great.

I did what I thought to be the lesser of all the evils and made the decision to hit the mattress. I gripped the steering wheel, sped up a little, and slammed that mattress like a champion. Go big or go home people. I heard it busting all under my truck but the truck never swerved or even bounced really. After actually hitting the mattress my brain sort of began to slip into a haze of fear and relief that is until I heard the distinct sound of metal dragging behind the truck. First thought, the back passenger tire has busted. Everyone on I-85 immediately slowed to a crawl as I gradually took the lap of shame over to a sketchy median. I jumped out of the truck expecting to see my back tires slashed from the metal in the mattress but was quickly surprised to find the mattress was still wedged up under the truck.

Meg pulled in behind me, jumped out, and immediately began to laugh. She had watched everything happen from right behind me. After seeing that I was ok and had only gained a mattress landing gear, she was laughing at the craziness of our situation and at least a little out of relief. Still shaking...I swallowed the huge lump in my throat and I began to laugh too...I was alive, my truck wasn't damaged, and no one else got hurt in the process. Divine favor.

Traffic was whizzing by on either side of us as we tried to pull the twisted metal and stuffing out from under the truck. Meg and I were using all of our weight pulling and pushing with little result. I was debating whether to call the troopers. I've never had a good experience with a trooper so part of me almost just wanted to abandon the truck and just head home. A beat up black truck backed up the exit ramp toward us and this super kind man crawled under my truck and within a few minutes he was able to jerk the mattress out. He even loaded it on the back of his truck saying that he did not want someone else to have the same trouble. I really wanted to hug this guy. All he said before he jumped in his truck was, "There are still good people in the world."

I've been run down for the past week it seems ...my patience has been thin...my feelings have been hurt...the to do list seems never ending. After our little adventure I came home with the weight still on my shoulders, took a nap, and woke up with a song on my heart. We laughed at this story over supper but the fact that this could have a much more serious outcome is impossible to overlook no matter how much I don't want to dwell on it. I'm not afraid to die, but I'm not itching for death to overtake me or to cause harm to anyone intentional or not. It could have happened to anyone out on the road but today I was given a second chance to adjust my attitude and a reminder that there are still good caring people in this world regardless of the hurt others cause and that I need to try to pay that goodness forward. I stopped on the side of the road on the way home from supper and offered a poor runner my rain jacket in a downpour...She waved me off annoyed...I should have realized I was interrupting her pace and keeping her further from getting dry. Gold star for effort right?

If at first you don't succeed...tri..tri..again

If you follow or read any of my social media then you know the past year has been a time of transformation of some sorts. I have never been a "little girl." I'll never forget during my first year of teaching, one of my students from the sticks referred to me as being "corn fed." All you ag people out there understand the difference between grain fed beef and grass fed beef.  I’m not opening an argument of which one tastes better…just saying.  I have always struggled with my body image and particularly my weight / size. At some point during my graduate career I was able to finally level off and settle into a size that I felt looked good but maybe wasn't as small as I would like. Let me rephrase...I may have been small enough but definitely was not concerned with how soft I was. When I started my job at the Bureau people teased me constantly, "Wait until you put on the FB 15 (pounds)." (Think college freshmen 15). One of girlfriends was quick to say try the FB 60. I swore then and there that I would have no part of a FB 15 or FB 60. But as the weeks wore on and meeting after meeting there was nothing but country cooking or fancy meals and soft cushy chairs or long truck rides I began to notice a difference in how my clothes fit and not in a good way. I decided I needed to do something and quick.

About 5 years ago Mike and I were at the State Farmers Market picking up some fresh veggies and I noticed all of these women milling around me with race bibs and bright pink shirts, shorts, shoes, costumes, etc. They had just finished the Race for the Cure...one of the largest attended 5K runs in the triangle area that is a charity run for breast cancer research. I had never put much thought into running...honestly I never thought I could run but something about all these ladies training and running for a purpose got my brain to turning.

It took me several years and some tight jeans to stir my memories of those 5K finishers one night as I desperately started looking for a gym, personal trainer, something to help me battle the bulge. My mom had been recently diagnosed with Type II diabetes and I knew that the risk for me was now a reality. I needed a long term action plan. I googled and found a local running coach who had great reviews for helping new runners. I wasn't a new runner at that point...more like remedial. I e-mailed her sort of hoping that she would accidentally not get my e-mail but low and behold she e-mailed me the next day, excited to meet with me the following week. We met on a cold March morning in 2012. They had called for sleet and ice first thing and I was desperately hoping she would cancel and reschedule. No..no...I met her at the Neuse River Trail at 6:30am bundled in cotton and fleece...terrible attire to run in but I didn't know that at the time. Other things I didn't know...how weak I was and maybe most importantly how to eat properly before running. I was fine for the first mile running and walking at intervals but about halfway through our second mile I realized I had some serious ish. The bottom of my gut was about to drop out.  The Neuse River Trail is pretty but without any bathroom facilities.  It also borders several expensive neighborhoods in the Wakefield area of Raleigh. There was a black canvas wall blocking out a tree protection area off the trail a little ways. I hurdled myself over the canvas and yes I straight did my business in the wooded area behind someone's multi-million dollar home. I joke with my friends that I'm sure someone had a glare on their security camera from my white rear-end shining. I'm also sure the other people on the trail were impressed with how totally obvious I was. Needless to say it was a very humbling moment in my life. On the way back over the canvas wall following my moment...I caught my yoga pants on a spike. It didn't tear my pants but it tore my thigh. Karma much?

I left that day thinking I would never see my running coach again or really wanting to run. For someone who is as competitive and afraid of failure as I am...that morning was a total disaster, cluster, trainwreck, hot mess, etc, etc.  I ran on and off a little...ALONE....throughout the rest of March and in to April.  I ended up running (mostly walking) in an Autism Awareness 5K in my hometown at the end of April. While I do hate failure and rejection, etc... I'm not a quitter. I looked up the race results after the 5K and was seriously displeased with my time. I don't know what I expected...I hadn't really trained...but it did light the fire back under me to start working again. I contacted my running coach and we've been working together ever since. We don't necessarily meet up very often but we talk at least once a week.

I trained through last summer and fall and ran my first half marathon in February. I cannot tell you the joy I felt crossing that finish line!! I was also shocked and humbled at how many people supported my training despite the fact that they may not like to run themselves. My time for the race wasn't close to what I had hoped and I often feel discouraged when I see how my other friends have progressed so quickly with their training and their race times but I'm trying to keep in mind that my ultimate goal was to be healthy and have fun...not to be some elite athlete. I would like to work my way up to having better race times and more strength but these things take time and discipline. I'm pretty sure God is trying to teach me some patience and perseverance.

Next Sunday is my first triathlon. The change in my training and mandatory strength training have been a good change of pace from simply running but I'm not expecting to break any records or even finish midway in the pack. I'm just going for a finish... until the next one.  If I can get out there and pretend to be somewhat athletic I’m pretty sure anyone that has any gumption or desire whatsoever to do something physical can get out there and get it done.  One of my running buddies says, “Don’t worry about how slow or dumb you look, you’re lapping everybody on the couch.”  

A Fable if you will....

This morning I was on a short run at the greenway and I remembered a great story that I feel the need to share.  In the shower I came up with a whiz bang moral to the story...Let's try and see where it all goes.  I should tell you that if you don't like gross things or cannot handle some sketchy language then this blog post is not for you. 

I have a weekly bike date with my boo.  It's like we're two 12 year old girls again and we meet up to ride our bicycles once a week except we're not 12... We're competitive 28 year olds training for a triathalon.  That's what happens when you grow up girls...j/k...and I digress.  We have been going for our weekly rides at the Neuse River trail, which is a fairly scenic route.  At the end of the first mile are 2 pedestrian bridges across small creeks.  One afternoon as we rode across the second bridge we both noticed this huge, gross, fresh pile of...yep...poop.  Instead of turning away and moving on we are both staring at this pile of crap speculating on where it came from, how long it had been there, and how long it would take for someone to run through it...how we would hate to run through it, etc.  I was completely lost in pondering this issue when a distinct clanking sound broke into my thoughts.  I looked over to realize that my boo had lost her balance while we were awkwardly staring and was  bumping along the rail on the side of the bridge.  She eventually slid off the bridge, down the side, and somehow successfully managed to not completely fall off or turn over her bike.  She's talented.  Watching this all happen was pretty nightmareish.  Most people probably would have laughed but I couldn't stop thinking how she was going to rocket over the side of the bridge onto the rocks below or slam the pavement and skid.  It was scary and I couldn't do anything but watch.

This story has a happy ending.  My boo didn't get hurt and we went on to have a glorious stress-free bike ride with a pretty fabulous time (remember triathalon) and we're going back tonight.  Now, here's the literal and figurative moral to my story: Don't waste your time focusing on shit (literally or figuratively speaking) or wondering who caused it or where it came from...it can cause you to get off balance, lose perspective, and potentially get hurt.  Fact of the matter is that "it happens" and we may have to ride by it or through it at some point so keep good company that can support you if you fall and who make your ride enjoyable.

The end.