Monday, March 2, 2015

The Road Taken

Last Sunday I ran 9 miles.  It was in the 20s with a biting wind and I considered bailing, but I paid good cash money for a race next month, my first in 18 months, and I don't want to embarrass myself.

(Plantar fasciitis is the devil.  It's been a slow recovery).

I also needed to get out the house.  I was snappy and tense and didn't like the sound of my voice; nor did I want to deal with the damn dirty kitchen (again) or laundry pile (still and always).

The sidewalks were covered in snow and ice, forcing me & my shaky, aging ankles onto the road.    I told myself I'd just do the 5mile loop around town.

Two miles in, my hands were still cold inside my gloves and I'd stopped blowing my nose because the snot was insulating my sinuses.  But a mile later, when I reached the spot where my roads diverged, I turned right and kept going.

I ran facing traffic but my presence in the street still enraged one driver enough to warrant a double angry fist pump.  Another laid on the horn so aggressively I nearly fell into a snow bank.  But I also got a thumbs up from a farmer in a pick up and a not unattractive man grinned at me at a stop sign.  Most drivers just edged over a few feet and carried on.

By the time I made it back to my car and home I felt peaceful.  It was a nice reminder in the midst of my mid-life angst that the journey is the point.  Even off path and against traffic.

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Still Here.

So.  Here we are, February again.  The holidays happened.  Winter is still happening.  I probably owe y'all an update, yes?

The extended family converged not once, but twice this year - at Thanksgiving here in flyover country and again in CA for Christmas.  There was a remarkable lack of drama - which is, I suppose, dramatic in its absence.  Turns out we actually all like each other.

There were no Christmas cards.  Whoops!  There was a photo shoot but then….  yeah.

Papa Fritz was very excited to take the kids out on his new boat.  I had more than a couple nightmares about the ocean swallowing my children, and practical angst my girl would freak the fuck out on the boat, but she LOVED it and no one drown.  Win! 

I am tired though.  On New Years Eve it dawned on me that my son is 9 1/2 years old and the time given me to shape him into a reasonable human being is half over.  What will he remember of his childhood?  The unending grind of school, homework and his frazzled mommy - or the Christmas we went sailing with Papa?   What will I remember of these years?  They seem too much a blur to claim the victory of a life well lived.  Too many days are spent grinding thru work-dinner-homework with an eye on the clock and yet ten years just vanished.  At the end I'll only have this woefully neglected blog and random snapshots to remind me my children were once small and needy… shouldn't I be savoring it all more?  Or is that just so much hippy-HuffPost-airbrushed bullshit?

I'm obviously in the midst of some mid-life post-vacation late-winter existential meh.  I'm weirdly not unhappy and we have lots of good things coming up, but this milestone has done a number on my head.  A situation not improved when I re-watched the jelly bean video.  Which is silly and triggers my sweet tooth, but I figure I only have about 14,000 beans left.  What shall I do?