Mom, I'm only going to have one meltdown this week..

And I'm saving that one for Thursday night, just so you know

Duly noted. Thank you for the advance warning, if only we all could be so regulated. I expect a periodic meltdown from a kid taking 3 AP classes, pre calc, spanish 4x and international foods. Certainly it's the food class that sends her over the edge. Add to that a strenuous marching band schedule, a part time job working for her dad and nurturing her first teen romance and I'd say the kid has a lot on her plate. What else could I expect from a kid with remarkably diverse tastes?

My main concern is that she doesn't limit her meltdowns for my sake. A primary driver in my constitution is that my kids not take on responsibility for my emotional health. In other words, I don't expect my kids to carry the burdens of my soul. This is not to say that I won't share how I am doing, or be authentic with them, but rather, I won't hold them responsible for how I feel and I certainly hope to not hold their emotions hostage by my crises.

I tend to be one of those people who think about how they feel. For instance, I might begin a sentence with "I think I'm feeling sad today about..." and these sentences appear after several days of rumination. In contrast my hubby is one of those folks who feel their thoughts, generally out loud, and might begin a sentence with "I feel like (insert fact)...." and his sentence appears within a brief moment from the origination of the thought. He thinks out loud and works things out accordingly. I think in the deep, wide spaces o

f my mind. In this way we are remarkably compatible and remarkably incompatible depending on the day. I'm thankful for "broad shoulders" as I have 3 external thinker/emoters in my family and on any given day that can mean a lot of life to support. I find it no surprise that two of my closest friends are internal like me.

Last week the weight of my world pressed hard. I find it little coincidence that I separated my shoulder. More specifically my clavicle separated from it's A/C joint and one of my rotator cuff muscles decided to impinge. Most specifically, that hurt like hell. Three days of Vicatin nights to sleep. I took a long hard thinking walk, did some corrective exercises and all is better now. It's amazing to me how our bodies are created to know how to heal themselves. The best solution to my impingement was sleeping with my arm extended back over my head, which allowed the muscles to relax and return to their rightful position. I went for what felt good, and low and behold, it was right.

"Mom, I've had a lot of warnings, don't you think it's about time?" Well, given your size 10 feet and your size small frame, I think you have one last growth spurt to go before "IT's TIME". Are you ready, are you scared, do you have a supply of products in your locker in case you start at school? This one is a little slower to grow up and that is just fine by me, although she is "star struck" by one boy in particular and is planning her high school enrollment around where he might attend. I have become an advocate of the return of marrying them off at 14. Sort of. But really? I don't recall planning my life around Boy X. Perhaps this is because Boy X didn't come around til a bit later. I remember pre teen conversations about who had kissed who and who held whose hand, and it was all meaningless for the most part. In the crowd my oldest runs with they aren't dating until they are juniors, only holding hands for months and contemplating a first kiss for a very long time. In the age of one night stands and casual hook ups they are taking their stand and being counter cultural. I kind of like that. No, I really like that.

Did you know that every time a woman engages in physical intimacy she secretes the same hormone that is released when she nurses with and bonds to her baby? Did you know that one of the major causes of suicidal depression in college age girls is frequency of sexual partners. So, girls who should have the entire world as an oyster are wanting to cash it all in because their bodies are wacked out from sleeping around. I say give yourself the absolute best shot at living your hopes and dreams, the world around you is waiting.

****News Flash***** apparently Thursday's meltdown arrived a day early. Oh boy.

At least the general grounding of The Tribe from all forms of media concluded today. I suffer under the delusion that a 14, 12 and 10 year old should be able to survey the room around them and find it unacceptable to sit on a pile of unfolded clothes with dirty dishes and chip bags strewn around, watching television. I apparently also suffer under the delusion that I should be allowed to go one night a week to class for the betterment of my psyche and return home with the dinner dishes cleaned up, the counters wiped and the food put away. I am hopeful that a 48 hour ban from television and computer time might move us closer to agreement on the domestic front.

As long as we are on the topic of things that tax me mentally, we might as well throw in the delusion that it was a good idea to return to school after an 18 year hiatus and attempt to learn the dead language of Koine Greek. Had I realized this required learning a new alphabet where an R is a P an N is an E and a V is an N and three of the letters aren't letters at all but really sounds, I might have thought twice. Had I known that the second session would entail reading this new language out loud for the enrichment of the entire class I certainly would have reconsidered. I'm reasonably certain that I so tortured my share of the dissertation that the Apostle John himself rolled in his grave so violently that the earth quaked. My apologies Los Angeles. I had no intention of opening the fires of hell upon you these last few days. I will study this week. That or I'll make a point of sitting by the Korean gal who is trying to learn a third language in a second language. My class is quite a collection of characters, I'll try to report more later.

For now it's time to oversee homework, pick up from youth group and spend some quality time with the spouse.

Realizing none of this has anything at all to do with running or children in Africa or marathons, just endurance. What do you expect? It is taper week!

Running the Race

In two weeks, I hope to run my first marathon. I'm starting to get a little nervous, but mostly because I've been having some trouble with my right knee hurting the last few runs. Hopefully some tender loving care and rest will bring some healing.

One of my all time favorite passages in the Bible is Hebrews 11 and 12. Hebrews 12:1-2 says:

¹Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. ²Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

I love this image. We are all on a race, a journey leading towards heaven. There are lots of witnesses and encouragers along the way. We are commanded to run and persevere, to throw off all that hinders us and FIX OUR EYES ON JESUS. Often when I am running these verses come to mind. Fixing my eyes on Jesus--what does that look like daily? I see it as reminding myself of God's grace, keeping an eternal perspective, persevering in love and joy, and peppering my day with prayer. May that be my focus on this marathon race of life!

Getting by with a little help from some friends

I, like many of you grew up in the era where the power of a picture on a television screen became every kid who didn't want to eat his vegetables worst nightmare. You need to eat that, there are starving children in ______ (fill in country of choice) The late night pictures of bloated bellies and emaciated children was generally daunting to me, and remains so to this day. In reality, there is no universal solution to the turmoil of the third world, there will always be impoverished conditions, there will always be corrupt governments and there will always be starving children and that is frustrating. It feels too big. I don't mind big, but like any challenge, I need to break it down into manageable chunks. A marathon is never 26.2 miles. It's four 6.5 mile runs in a row. An Ironman isn't 140.6 miles, it's 22 buoys, four 28 mile bike rides, and four 6.5 mile runs. Sometimes a marathon is 26 aid stations, conveniently spread 1 mile apart. And so on.

To me there has to be a way to make a colossal problem manageable.

A few years back I was part of a small congregation that pooled every man, woman and child's resources and purchased a bore hole for Naygobia, Uganda. The clean source of water was a welcome relief to the town. However, confusion ruled as, generally if a group digs a well it belongs to the group. But this well was sponsored by the church for the benefit of the entire town. One muslim man was so impressed that he donated a piece of land so that we could build a medical center. Out came the little soup cans again, and a few months later a medical center was built and stocked, one brick and one band-aid at at a time. The medical center led to a sewing center (to teach young women a trade) which led to uniforms for orphans to go to school, which led to a school being built by the carpentry center (to teach young men a trade) and the village was transformed. Now, they are a network of 3 villages which share resources and information. It all started with the fresh water of one bore hole. You can read the story here.

The colossal problems of one HIV infected, war torn, impoverished village in Uganda were broken down into manageable pieces and a small group of simple folks gave their coffee money, and their dinner money and their hearts to bring about change. A bond of friendship has formed over these years between the folks in Uganda and the folks in St. Louis Park, MN and that to me is truly the greatest part.

Big problems take smart, compassion driven solutions. So here is one possibility for you, my friends.

As a trainer at the Y, I can take the $60 ish dollars I'd earn training three clients for an hour and put it into my World Vision fund. But, what if, instead of adding $60 I raffled off three-60 minute training sessions to be used for Personal Training or Pilates Reformer sessions with me? I can multiply my resources.

So, if you want to help dig the bore hole, please consider buying raffle tickets! Each ticket costs $10. The winner will receive a PT package of 3, one hour sessions to be used at the Ridgedale YMCA (in home training is a possibiltiy) The winner does not need to be a member of the YMCA and the package can be given as a gift to a friend or relative. Just click on the link by my "Beautiful Feet" and mention raffle tickets in the memo section of your donation

The raffle will be held Sept 15th. But buy early, if I see sufficient interest, we may be adding additional prizes to the pool.

Thanks for your support! Big 20 mile run this weekend--whoo hoo 20 miles

A Shout out to my running buddy

Just wanted to give a shout out to my friend Kari Holmes. If you don't know Kari, you should. She is servant hearted, compassionate, caring, and a go-getter. I first met Kari four years ago when I moved to Minneapolis. She and her daughter Sophia stopped by my classroom as Sophia was going to be in my class that year. I remember that conversation with them because we started talking about the Dominican Republic and of course running. She invited me to a Labor Day party which I thought was very kind because she hardly knew me. That year Kari helped with my computer class and of course I got to know her better because of Sophia. After that year, we and a few other friends ran the Ragnar Relay Race together. When you are in a van with several other people, running on a team with six others for 200 miles, you can't help but get to know each other. Kari's determination, perseverance, leadership and her singing late at night while running in the middle of nowhere were memorable. She has a way of making people feel encouraged, motivated, and loved which I think is why she is a great running friend and trainer.

This week we ran our longest run so far, 18.61 miles :) It wasn't a fast run, in fact we made a lot of stops due to traffic lights, drink breaks, etc, but it felt good to run that far. Well, good to get the miles in, but the muscles definitely hurt afterwards. After we finished, I thought, "Oh my goodness, if I were running the marathon I would still have 8 miles to go" which at the time seemed daunting. But Kari's encouragement that she is confident that I can finish the race put my anxious thoughts at ease.

So thanks Kari. Thanks for bringing me soup when I was sick this week, for listening to me talk for hours during those long runs, for teaching my class the writing lab this year, for doing exercises with us during summer school, for organizing a field trip to the YMCA with my tough class two years ago, for planning and throwing me a 30th birthday party, for encouraging me in running, for Pilates reformer, for spending time with my family, for praying, for sending those Bible saturated emails, for sharing your heart, (and the list goes on...)....Glad to be on this 'journey' with you...excited to see where it leads.

Here's to the kids!!

Someone should be fired

The other day my boys were sharing a sucker by licking it 20 times then handing it to the other for 20 licks, and back and forth it went. I wasn't sure if I should be impressed or completely grossed out. I'll take it as a sign of maturity.

Harley is now mature because he weighs enough to turn on the airbag of

the passenger seat in my friend's car. Anyone who knows Harley understands that airbag deployment and spontaneous combustion are mutually assured. As the youngest he is well acquainted with the view from the back seat. It will be 7 years before he has access to exclusive priority seating, barring any of his siblings ascent from college to the basement. He is the type of kid that will patiently dream about his day of total household domination, and plan what he will do with each of the one thousand ninety five days that it is his. His singular current priority would be to cut of the soda supply from anyone who annoyingly screetches in his ear, followed closely by banishment to exile for anyone who destroys one of his lego creations. As far as destruction goes, he is the only one allowed to bring a tornado, followed by a hurricane followed by an F5 tornado followed by a flood, to one of his Lego empires. Imagine my relief that the concept of volcano has not breached the realm of his destructive fantasy. I believe wood floors are impervious to just about anything but molten, melted legos. My feet however, are not impervious to fully intact, painfully square Legos. Which prompted Brian, watching me prepare for church to comment:

"Michael Caine is really making a comeback in movies"

As our previous conversation held no allusions to theater, I awaited his explanation. You know, "Inception, The Dark Knight, Miss Congeniality.."

I am not duck walking, I am avoiding Legos.

For the record, the American who coined the term "bonking" to describe the aerobically induced depletion of glucose flowing to the brain which leads to impaired athletic performance really needed to do a cross check of the global lexicon before I used the term 18 times in my instruction to my British client who is running his first half marathon for World Vision. Blah blah blah, bonk, blah blah, bonk, I prattled on, finally noticing a quizzical look engulfing his face. "You've heard of the term "bonking" haven't you?" "Yes. But it has a slightly different connotation in English." Someone should be fired.

"What are we doing today?"

We are going to a picnic at a friend's lake.

"Who is going to be there?"

So and so, and so and so.

"Oh awesome! We love homeschool picnics. They have great food, it's the best. Yea, that's because they have more time."

I hear the sound of our television being thrown out the window and rolling down the hill into the graveyard pile of "hey look, now you have more time."

Training for Twin Cities Marathon is going well, the miles are adding up and anticipation is growing. If you haven't done so already, please consider throwing a few bucks into my fundraising bucket. It means a lot to me to know that we can help at least one village have access to fresh drinking water. Step by step, dollar by dollar we can reach my goal.

Gozo (Joy)

Running seems to be my deep thinking time. Often when I am running, lesson plans, songs, or other ideas are created. It can also be my God and me talk and pray it out time. Today was one of those runs. I woke up this morning with my friend Nikki Lerner's song in my head:

You are my shepherd, please take my hand and lead me through

You are my shepherd, no one can fill my like you do

Lead me, guide me, let my cup overflow with more of you.

As I ran today and listened to that song, a poem that I used in class with my 5th graders this year came to mind. It's called Welcome Morning by Anne Sexton. It's theme is finding joy in all. We used it to create our own poems. Here is my rendition:

There is joy in all,

in the cry of a baby in the morning,

in the smell of coffee brewing,

in the sun peering through the clouds,

in the smooth as glass water in the bay,

There is joy in all.

There is joy in all,

in the shooting star that soars across the sunset sky,

in the double rainbow during the pouring rain,

in the moonlit boat ride across the lake,

in the yellow flowers growing out of the canal,

there is joy in all.

There is joy in all,

in spending time with friends,

in hearing Harley Holmes say, "I feel accomplished" after conquering his fear of jumping in the water,

in watching Wyatt Holmes try to ski,

in listening to Sophia Holmes scream as she runs into the water,

in running with Kari Holmes on my normal Lake Okoboji route.

There is joy in all.

There is joy in all,

in watching my parents be grandparents,

in seeing family I haven't seen in a long time,

in observing how much my sister and brother in law love their little daughter,

in being an auntie,

There is joy in all.

All this is God,

right here in this cabin at Lake Okoboji,

and though I often forget to say thanks and worship with rejoicing,

today I am full of joy for this morning.

So while I think of it,

let me paint a thank you for this God, for the joy and the laughter of the morning.

For the joy that isn't shared, I've heard, dies young.

The (not so) lazy days of summer

I love the leisurely days of summer. No firm schedules outside of work and rec, no homework and a lot less rush. It's also a time for me to connect at an easier pace with my kids who are departing my house at 2, 5, 6 and 9 year intervals; an ominous fact with which to bait mom. Apparently they've never seen my countdown calender

All kidding aside, I really do love the extra time with my Tribe and I've learned quite a bit just by listening to them chatter as we move from place to place. For instance, a car loaded with 3-13 year old girls and a 17 year year old can come up with 487 adjectives that appropriately attach to the word "butt" in the time it takes to drive from Duluth to Two Harbors. I had no idea they could be so verbose about a single body part. My 10 year old boy on the other hand is a bit more mature as he has hit puberty at full stride. He knows this because he is thirsty all the time and he has underarm hair. I suggested he get a drink and take a

shower and suddenly he is my little guy once again. My somewhat antisocial 12 year old gets his first cell phone and suddenly he is being dropped off at the mall at regular intervals to hang out with friends. Ma Bell would be proud. Trimama would just be plain confused. And this is not the only confusion in the household of late. My 17 year old can blow by and knock down girls twice her size on the rugby pitch, ace her AP US History exam, and yet lives in mortal fear of taking her driving test in the off chance that she won't pass it on the first try. Apparently every person in her known universe passes the test on the first try. She must not have chatted with her Aunt Chris. Avocado is best when perfectly cubed, water is best when drank from a hose, the next door neighbor boys are the best opponents in a water fight as they always buy ice cream when they lose, and they seem to lose a lot, and mail order is the best means for purchasing a trampoline because god only knows why, but apparently it would be delivered encased in bubblewrap which comes in handy when you want extra protection against falling. Ice cream is the best dinner, chocolate brownies are the best breakfast and mom working the night to morning shift is the best reason that Dad needs to go to cooking school. Summer is also best for planning non-pending weddings down the the father/daughter dance song, accumulating 15 trillion in Kinz Cash and assaulting the Earth Benders atop a mountain of legos. We really need to get back to the library. Summer has that uncanny way of slowing down and speeding up at the same time. The sunsets linger and the sunrise hastens, the storms chase and the clouds drift, the Tribe grows older and more responsible and then someone starts a war squeezing whip cream down a shirt.

Oh well, I love summer