A Magic Moment on the Sidewalk

We knew as soon as we locked eyes that our connection was something special. I managed to keep my cool and walk casually towards him, but he abandoned all decorum and rushed towards me with tail held aloft and amber eyes gleaming. We had a few golden moments there on the sunny sidewalk as I stroked his gray fur and cooed "you're a pretty boy, you're such a pretty boy" and he purred like a propeller. But, alas, the moment had to end. I explained to him that I had a [deathly allergic] husband and our relationship had no future. We would just have to cherish this time, hold it in our hearts and carry on with our lives. When I straightened up to keep walking home, he froze in shock. The hurt and confusion emanating from his eyes was palpable. I assured him once more that this was not a fling, it was simply a connection that wasn't met to be. Resolutely, I squared my shoulders and walked away, only turning once to look back. He remained frozen in shock, paws in the process of walking forward to rub against my leg when I had delivered the news. This is the picture of him I will carry with me until the day we might once again meet on a sun-drenched sidewalk.

Run Sara, Runnnnnnn

At the end of February I decided to start running even though I've always hated it. (I have terrible memories of running "the mile" in high school) After a couple attempts in college to start running I had pretty much decided that running was not in my cards. I just couldn't do it. I didn't have the body type or the joints to sustain it.

So what on earth possessed me to take up running? I love to be active and last summer I tackled a couple of hikes I never would have thought possible. With much wheezing and feeling like death, I dragged myself up mountains and reveled in the beautiful vistas that made the torture worth it. As this summer approached I thought, wouldn't it be nice if I didn't feel like death while dragging myself up mountains? This thought gave me the courage to try snowshoeing and then, when the snow started melting, to start running. 

Last Saturday I headed out for my second  2.75 mile run thinking I would complete this one, skip the third 2.75 and be able to run my first 5k distance on my 28th birthday. (How poetic) When pain in my knee severe enough to make me want to cry (I might have. Just a little) stopped me about 1.5 miles in, sending me limping home,  I was discouraged and upset.  Just shy of my first big milestone! How long would I be out? Did I need to see a doctor? Would I be able to not suck at my first 5k race?! (I'm nervous)

After self-diagnosing runner's knee I took off three days from running. Tonight was the night. I was scared, irrationally so.  I started out telling myself, "Just make it a mile" but when I got outside I decided I was going to try for 2.5 at least and go the last 1/4 if my knee wasn't too painful. 

I ran the whole 5K! In 29:45 which is just 45 seconds shy of my initial 5K goal time, which I know might seem slow to some people but when I started I just hoped I'd be able to run 5K under 30 minutes.  And my knee was okay, not at all painful during the run and the post-run pain was easily fixed with ice. 

Elation :) 

Almost my birthday

It's almost my birthday. I'm nostalgic by nature and though aging thus far has not freaked me out (maybe 30? 40?), I always get introspective at my birthday. I have three things I'd  really like to focus on this year (not in this order of importance).

1. Feeling confident. I've started running and while yes, it's important to me to be healthy because you've only got one body so you might as well take care of it, the thing I've loved the most is how it tests my confidence. I find my brain/lungs/legs screaming at me "WHAT THE CRAP ARE YOU DOING!? I CAN'T DO THIS, I CAN'T DO THIS!" and somehow find another part of my brain that calmly replies, "Um, yes. Actually, I can." 
2. Testing myself. Pushing my brain, opening my mind, reading and thinking and not shying away from things that scare me. I've found in myself a lot of stagnant beliefs and thoughts that I use to define my life. It's time to air out the old brain and start examining some of these things. We want to have kids some day and as I really faced that thought (scary) I realized I needed to know what I was going to teach them. Yikes!
3. Being kind. I'm not a naturally nice person. Even when I try to be it comes out awkward. I give a bad impression to people and I say stupid things. I get really riled up and angry towards people I think are cruel or ignorant, which seems okay as they are (in my opinion) a) cruel and b) ignorant. But it's not okay if I really believe that to "love your neighbor as yourself" is something I should strive for.

On the note of #3, I was reading this blog posting and I liked this. It's not the first time I've ever heard it but I think it bears repeating because this world can use all the love it can get and I have a hard time actually acting like all of these people she mentions are my neighbor.

It is only when we consider our enemies as human beings - with a story of their own to tell - that we can learn what it means to love our neighbor. Because your neighbor is the gay kid who hanged himself in his own backyard. Because your neighbor is the bully who harassed him every day in English class because he feared what was different. .... Your neighbor is both the man who wants to burn the Koran, and the man who sees the Koran as the holiest of books. Your neighbor is also the man holding a [ironically] rainbow striped "God Hates Fags" sign, and the grieving father of a soldier killed in Iraq whose funeral is being picketed. They are all human, all people with a past, a present and a future. And they are all your neighbor.

Hmmmmmmmm

Momsie

Last night my friend Jen gave me a hug and said, "You smell nice," which led to a mini-discussion about my self-described "floral and peaceful" scent. This morning, when I realized I had just used the last of my enjoyable scented shampoo, I thought back to Jen's comment and it made me think of my mother.

There are two things that stand out strongly about my mother from my childhood and one is the way that she smells. Like powder and lily of the valley, even when she wasn't wearing any perfume or anything. I can remember smelling her clothes and thinking how she always has that comforting fresh floral smell and how nice it makes me feel. It's like getting in bed after you've just put on clean sheets and you get that whiff of clean linens rolling over you.

The other thing I think of is her hands. My mom, one, has beautiful hands. She would probably disagree with this but I think they are beautiful. A perfect tan color, nice oval nails that she always keeps neat and clean, and pretty, tapering fingers. But the best is that they're always soft and cool. She and I both have hands that tend to run a little cold (okay, let's be honest. In the winter our hands are like blocks of ice. Beware) and there was nothing better then my mom's cool hand on my forehead when I was feeling sick. That always made me feel better.

So that's it. Some quasi sappy thoughts on my beloved mom. I hope I can be like her when I'm a mom.

Rilke Strikes Again

I love you, gentlest of Ways,
who ripened us as we wrestled with you.

You, the great homesickness we could never shake off,
you, the forest that always surrounded us,

you, the song we sang in every silence,
you dark net threading through us,

You began yourself so greatly
on that day when you began us-
and we have so ripened in your sunlight
spreading far and firmly planted-
that now in all people, angels, madonnas,
you can decide: the work is done.

Let your hand rest on the rim of Heaven now
and mutely bear the darkness we bring over you.

-Rilke

This poem felt perfect for my mood on this rainy autumn day. A little melancholy, a little tired, a little too angsty to the point that I thought, "seriously? am I still 13?". But, beside those feelings, the brightness of the first coloful leaves, excitement about the second date and dine night with Joe and the gentle nudging to be a better me that I've been feeling this week that has left me secure in the "forest that always surrounded [me]" but disappointed about the darkness I can add to the world. Ah, poetry.

A suggestion

Dear Reader,

Someday you may live in an apartment. It might be on the second floor of a large house. You might have a two-year-old and wood floors. You might have a young married couple of, oh, I don't know... 27 years old, living beneath you. Maybe, just maybe, you should not give your small child a game play with that includes hurling solid objects (blocks? jacks? small rock? chicken bones (maybe she's a seer?)? ) onto the aforementioned wood floors thereby causing repetitive loud crashes for hours and hours and hours because some small children don't really feel the need for a new game. Just a suggestion.

Sincerely,
Sara