LONG TIME, NO BLOG!

Where have I been?  I don't know.  But I'm here and I'm back and it's time to focus.

I turned 50.  I ran 51 events in 1 year. Too much, but it's what I did.  Now it's time to  re-learn the love of the run, and to find new challenges.  I want to help others to learn to love the run the way I learned to do so. 

I want to stop the wheel for a minute and take a deep breath: I am re-learning the idea of slowing down.  I'm working on it, and plan to do lots of it this coming Labor Day weekend.  Don't ya just adore long weekends?

LOST.

It has been an awfully long time since I talked to myself. It is my presumption that this blog is talking to myself, and I'm fine with that. But I wonder where I went, and that just isn't good. So I'm sitting here surrounded by my very sweet 4-legged boys, and loving the silence (but not so much Marley's snoring).


One marathon and several lovely escapes and many halfs later, it's December 1 and I'm overwhelmed. I feel like I have neglected my home and shirked my duties as a crapbooker and like I want to take a week off of life to catch up: can that happen?

At the end of the day I am very happy to come home and be by myself...I think I need more of that.

I am looking forward to painting another room and creating a new work space. Needed: more hours in the day.

THERE IS PAIN, and there is...

the pain of things gone bad.

Today I am suffering the residual pain of 26.2 miles. It was an amazing event, and even though it was probably the most difficult marathon I've ever done, it was also the most awesome! I walked with Joanne from GLA TNT who was slow off the start and Olivia from SGV TNT who's knees weren't great. I walked with Michael from APLA who was a mess by mile 5 but walked in honor of the partner he lost and a wheelchair participant who melted early on. I chatted with 4 Legacy runners, and LOVED their stories. They inspired me. And I ran and walked with my family...the girls who have been with me for 2 seasons, or longer. And in the last mile I came across 2 women carry another woman so she could complete her first ever marathon... this was clearly not MY race, but it was the race I was meant to run. The TNT participants for this event raised over $300,000.00 and I'm proud of them all.

I loved seeing Paula who walked with me from 8 to 9, and Bucket and posse cheering on SM Blvd. I loved the "heads up" texts, telling me who was hurting and to watch for them. I appreciated Bridget walking with me and filling me in on Amanda, and seeing Becka in the 20's saved me from sure meltdown. You are all the very best of the best!

And then there is the other pain...where people choose to hurt those they call their friends. This is the true pain: the one that won't ease up with time spent in a cool shower or on a foam roller. I am more sad then I can say, and I can't go in to detail...but spiteful choices often have consequences, and this is no different. I will simply say:

1. Choose your battles

2. If you know you're hurting someone, why do it? And trust me, I can be mean as a witch when I want...so I know!

I am sad this season is over. I am sad this season ended with drama. I am everlastingly grateful for 4 1/2 months of peaceful relative harmony. I look forward to next season being about our Mission.

February 10, 1930...

This was the day my mommy was born. I am pretty sure that on this day, all of the stars aligned and the world stood still as the kindest, most gentle, most beautiful girl was brought into our world.

I have no doubt that my mommy touches everyone she meets and that she makes the world a better place. I know that there are people who don't appreciate her because she is strong willed and speaks her mind (she makes me so proud), but the important people know her true value.

I am such a lucky girl to have my mom and my dad...and to share these very special days with them!

ME BEING GROUCHY!

It's another Monday...another day of, so-much-to-do-so-few-hours-in-the-day! But it all gets done in the end. And if not, so what! I've completely packed my supplies for IU, so bring on everything else...I can handle it!

This weekend wasn't an easy one...for most of us. It started with the memories of 9/11: the phone calls we got, and the calls that never came. For many of us, Friday melted into Saturday and the 1 year anniversary of the local MetroLink crash that killed so many. 8 years and 1 year... the sadness isn't diminished because of time. The sense of pride in those who responded, and the way communities pulled together, should never be forgotten.

Not only did I spend the weekend wondering about our world and our lost sense of security, but I also spent the weekend wondering where my child went: the sweet boy I love, who has been replaced by an ungreatful, nasty, mean, miserable asshole. I understand that being out of work is stressful...I'm the one paying all of the bills, so am WELLL AWARE...but why does he have to be so f'ing mean to me? This is definitely not putting me in a great place, so might be a bit of a cave dweller.

And my stupid arm is still awful...only been 4 weeks, can't imagine why I'm grouchy about it! I need the nerves unpinched so my fingers will stop being numb, and so that the radiating shooting pain will lessen.

However with all of my complaints...Mel and I did 22 miles Saturday, and my nails are again long enough to be airbrushed...life is good!

xo

IF WALLS COULD TALK...

Last night I saw Green Day at the Forum, with Becka. As always, they put on a show that was fantastic...energetic, exhausting and off the hook! The last show of the tour, and they did NOT dissappoint!

As we stood there and the band broke out riffs from Van Halen, Led Zepplin and others, I looked around the very haunted walls of this venue I've been frequenting since I was 12. (This coupled with the news that Robert Plant turned 61 this week had me really introspective). Who have I not seen there? And more to the point, I'm so glad these walls can't talk! The 70's and early 80's were fun: life was easier before Ticketmaster...(it helped to go to school 5 min from the Forum)befriend the security at the Forum, get the #1 and #2 spots to buy tix; flirt with the security...get back stage.

I survived. I tell some stories...I keep most in the black hole of information that need not be shared. But the things that happened at the Forum, and often on the Strip are the things that shaped my love of live music... and so many other things about me. I was never Pamela DesBarres (and she's much older), but we knew the same people and ran in the same crowds for a while. I outgrew it. I can look back and smile, to myself, remembering a different time and a not so different girl.

25 Years Ago...

25 years ago yesterday, I was watching the Opening Ceremonies of the 1984 Olympics...happening here in Los Angeles. I can remember where I was; I can remember whom I was with, and I can remember the pizza guy coming in to watch part of the event with us, I remember Rafer Johnson running the final torch and the chills on my arms right now take me right back there. I can remember going to a party at Sam's house that night...I can remember so much about that night, and about the fun of the city during the entire scope of the events. I worked downtown and often went to the Olympic Village for lunch. I saw a lot of basketball with my cousin Marc, and met the son of my uncle's bff from Jersey.

It seems like ancient history, but this article reminded me and made me remember, and it made me sad. The son, Jon, became a part of my life for a while...he lived in Jersey and had addictions that I couldn't battle. When he was in LA, we stayed at the BH Hotel (yes, the pink one). I visited him several times, and talk about a great time: none better then with Jon. But when I had to crash and burn, he continued to roll. It took me a while to realize the scope of his addictions, but I couldn't save him. So I stopped seeing him and sadly reigned in my life and moved on...and eventually got married. I often thought of Jon, and wondered how he was...my cousins didn't really know. I tried to reach him once, about 6 months before he died, but had no success. Jon got clean and became a speaker on the subject of addictions. And last year he died: at the pink hotel, alone at 50.

This is such a personal thing...he was a special man. He was a lost man. He was a man in search of his own identity. And I wish I had reached out more when he crossed my mind, because some of you know that part of me.

Every time the anniversary of this event is noted, I will always remember Jon and his laugh and his smile and his sarcasm...