I recently read a book for book club called Learning to Walk in the Dark by Barbara Brown Taylor. Ever since, I’ve been thinking a lot about the dark, and my relationship to it. When I lost my vision and hearing I became very afraid of the dark. My limited field of vision leaves me wanting more. If I could just get more light in, maybe I could see the whole picture. With more light, maybe I could see it all. But that’s futile wanting. Even with full light, I still can only see fractions. I’ve had extra lighting installed everywhere in my home. Extra lamps in the bedroom, recessed lighting in the living room, under the cabinets in the kitchen. It does help when I’m trying to get work done and need to see specific things. Paperwork, food I’m preparing, the dust on the couch. But it doesn’t fix it. I’m still partially blind.
How long to you feed the longing for something you lost? How long do you entertain the yearning when you know it’s not coming back? Is the frustration worth it? Probably not. When is it time to give up the striving? Probably now.
I’m learning to sit in the dark. I woke this morning to get the kids up for school. I know they are teenagers and should be able to do this for themselves, but I enjoy it. I enjoy being around them in the calm of the morning. I know I’ll miss it when they are gone. This morning when I came downstairs to let the dogs out, I intentionally did not turn on the light in the kitchen. We have under-cabinet lighting, so it wasn’t completely dark. But it wasn’t completely light, either. It was nice. Calm. When I let the dogs outside, out of habit I flicked the outdoor light on and our deck flooded with artificial light. It was harsh, and as I looked out into the yard I noticed the moon hanging low in the sky. It was a near full moon, and it was majestic. So majestic, that I decided I needed to turn off the floodlight and let the moon shine in all its glory. I stood on the deck as the dogs ran around the yard and just absorbed the blend of early morning light and dark.
Normally I would have been trying to conjure up some profound thoughts in response to this moment, but today I just wanted to be. I just wanted to breathe in the morning, thank God for giving me the moon, and let that be enough. Over ten years into this disability, I am still grieving my losses. I don’t think grief is a checklist to be completed. It ebbs and flows, and it never truly ends. But I am thankful that it has waned, and is not so soul-crushing as it used to be. I am learning. Learning to sit with the dark, look up to the sky for solace, and be okay. Because today, that is enough.
Today I used up too many spoons folding laundry and fixing lunch, so I had to make the decision to stop part way through and cross some things off today’s to-do list.
Spoons? What?! No, I’m not having a stroke. I’m referring to the Spoon Theory. I was trying to explain this Spoon Theory to my therapist this week, because she had never heard of it either. This article explains it much better than I can: https://www.goodrx.com/health-topic/mental-health/spoon-theory. Basically, it is a way that many people living with chronic illness conceptualize how to manage our energy levels. Each day we wake up with a set number of spoons, and as we go through our daily tasks, we use up those spoons.
I can say that for me, I never know how many spoons I’ll wake up with each day. My spoon rations (I.e. energy levels) are unpredictable and sporadic. I often have moments in the day where I feel energetic, but it hardly ever lasts very long. That happened today. I woke up feeling pretty well, considering the excessive fatigue I’ve been struggling with over the last month or so. I folded a load of laundry, started on a second load, and then noticed the time and realized I needed to eat. I went down to the kitchen and fixed myself a breakfast taco. After eating, I went back upstairs to finish with the laundry and just couldn’t. I had to sit down. Lie down, actually. Like it states in the article linked above, everyday tasks demand extreme effort. Getting dressed, brushing my hair and teeth, all cost daily “spoons”. I forget that fact and tend to overdo it. Repeatedly. I may never learn. But that’s why I’m grateful to have loving family members and friends who graciously remind me of my limitations (something like, “you have M.S., remember?”) and give me permission to rest (I know, I can give myself permission, but sometimes it helps to hear it from someone outside yourself.)
So. It’s only 2:30 pm and I’m thinking about what I have on my plate for the rest of the day, and how many spoons it will take to clear that plate. I am attending a sporting event for my son tonight and I know that’s going to require several spoons, so I’m resting in order to reserve my energy for that. Because even if I have enough spoons to get there, it’s likely I won’t have enough to pay attention to what’s happening or carry on conversations. With cochlear implants, having conversations uses up a lot more spoons than it did before I was deaf. Same with the vision. It takes a lot more effort to get around than it did before. Thankfully, my husband will be there to support me. That is always reassuring. But that act of evaluating my daily activities and how it will likely affect my energy levels is a daily thing. I think about it all. The. Time.
I’m not sharing all of this to whine, and I hope that’s clear. I just thought you might be interested in hearing a bit about what my daily life is like living with this chronic illness. As I told my neurologist earlier this week, managing M.S. is like a full-time job. Seriously. And I’ve had it “easy” for a long time now, so I suppose I was due to have some difficult days. I’ll get through this. Lord knows I’ve done it before and with His help, I’ll do it again. Slowly but surely, one day at a time.
So with that I say – take a break, reader! Go outside, listen to fun music, take a nap. And happy Friday… have a wonderful weekend.
I so badly want to tell you all about this marathon, but it’s 9 days post-race and I am still processing. The mental fatigue is real. I have really struggled to put pen to paper and that is why I decided to just give you this brief update and save the full rundown for another time. So for now I will leave you with this:
This race marked a 10 year anniversary and celebration of how far I’ve come since becoming permanently disabled. I have healed in so many ways mentally, emotionally, and physically over these past 10 years. I didn’t realize it when I signed up for this race, but it has served as a symbol of that healing. Completing this marathon marked a tangible victory representing a thousand little intangible victories that have happened over the past decade. I am truly grateful to all of the family and friends who have supported me through everything. All the difficult moments where I didn’t know if I could stand, literally and figuratively. I would not be here today without them. Drawing from my faith in Jesus Christ and the support from so many others, I was able to complete this second round of marathon training and ultimately, the epic 26.2 mile race at the end.
My husband and kids, and my fabulous cousin and guide runner Zack. I’m in a wheelchair because you get special treatment if you can’t stand up at the finish 😉
Now my only real goal for this second marathon was to beat my first marathon time, which was 6 hours and 59 minutes. I had trained for and run a half marathon at the end of May, so I took that into account when deciding where to jump into a marathon training plan. My official marathon training then began in June and I trained for an additional four and a half months. In that time I ran and walked 306.2 miles for a total time of 76 hours, 17 minutes, and 7 seconds. As for the race itself? I finished my last 26.2 miles in 6 hours, 20 minutes, and 4.8 seconds. And if you are having a difficult time wrapping your head around all that? Now you know why I’m still processing 9 days later. It was so much work and I doubted myself from start to finish, but I stuck with it and I completed my goal. No, I crushed my goal. Obliterated it. I am proud of myself for completing this monumental challenge and I may do it again someday, but for now I’m going to hunker down and rest. An aggravating part of me is really itching for the next big goal but I’m giving myself the time I know I need in order to decompress and recharge.
Thank you for following along with me on this marathon running journey. It has been truly unforgettable. Good night and God bless.
And above we have your girl, Flat Marathon Mel. This is basically what I’ll be wearing tomorrow. Unless I change my mind on the way and switch out accessories. I’m going by the forecast so we’ll see if the weather cooperates. It’s looking to be around 50 degrees and dry. The rule of thumb is to dress for 20 degrees warmer because your body heats up while you’re running. I’ve always followed this rile and it works, but it does feel a little like torture in the beginning when you are standing in the cold feeling drastically underdressed. But I know my body, and I heat up quite a bit, maybe more than 20 degrees, so I believe the tank and shorts should be perfect.
I seem to have forgotten why I signed up for this race so I’ll be spending the rest of the night reminding myself. It’s gonna be fun. It’s gonna be worth it. And God has and will give me the strength to keep going when it gets hard. This race represents all of the ways Jesus has healed me physically, mentally, and emotionally over the past 10 years. This one isn’t about proving i can do it. This one is about enjoying the growth process and celebrating the outcomes. This race for me is about proclaiming victory. We can do hard things when Jesus Christ is our strength.
Lord Jesus, please be with me extra close tonight as I pretend to sleep and tomorrow as I pound the pavement for 6 or 7 hours. May you get all the glory for this one. I couldn’t do it without you.
And also thanks to my cousin Zack, who agreed to be my guide runner without hesitation! He enthusiastically agreed and I’m looking forward to our extended time together. This is such a unique opportunity to share. It’s truly a gift, and I’m excited.
This week was a struggle. For reals. Not only was it my highest fatigue week, but I had appointments all week: neurology, therapy, infusion, and BSF (Bible Study Fellowship). The BSF was really the only one I was looking forward to, but with my fatigue being at such a high level, it was hard to enjoy. Can I just be really honest here? I have begun to forget why I signed up for this marathon. I’m so over it. Sure, it will be rewarding. I’ll be so glad I did it. No regrets. But I’m ready to get this thing done. So with that attitude, I was able to squeeze in some training.
Looking back, I don’t know how I managed to do this, but on Thursday afternoon – after I got home from my Tysabri infusion – I ran 2.5 miles to the local medical lab to get some blood work done, and then on the walk back home I swung by the pharmacy to pick up a prescription. Marathon training, disability style. Who says running is just for the young and healthy? This is tenacity at its finest, folks. Two workouts in one day. I got ‘er done.
Friday I rested, and then Saturday I ran some more. This photo on the right here is of a place I pass on my long runs. I never think to take a picture, but as I’m winding down my marathon training, it seemed like a good idea. This is a helicopter that was used during the Vietnam war and reminds me to be thankful I live in a country where I am free to run. God bless America.
So, since I’m officially tapering in preparation for race day, Saturday’s long run was “only” 12 miles. It’s a bit surreal, still, that ten years ago I was barely walking. And now I’m what? A runner? Able to casually run 12 miles and still be smiling at the end? To be up the next day NOT feeling sore and near-death? I’m fascinated with what the human body is capable of accomplishing. Fascinated that with slow and steady progression, it learns to handle hours of pounding on pavement. I am also astonished at the healing that has happened in my toes, ankle, and knees. And, I think most of all my heart. Oh, my heart. I am stronger than I ever thought I could be. I am ready to kick this marathon’s ass.
This week I traveled a total of 17.32 miles on my feet. Total marathon training miles, including the half marathon, is now 477.46. Three weeks until race day! I’m at the point of the process where I’m struggling to remember why I signed up for this, so I put a picture of myself running a race from last year on my phone’s lock screen. In the photo I’m sporting my bright orange deaf/blind vest so it’s a great reminder of my “why”. Why do I run? Put simply, because I CAN. Also, I could go on and on about how we can do hard things, and one of these weeks I might still do that, but for today we’re just going to leave it right here. I run because I can. Because God gave me the strength and led me to this place, and I’m going to honor Him by not giving up. He sustains me, truly. In life, and in running. All of it.
I realize all I’ve been posting are training updates. I do. I realize marathon training is challenging and can consume your life. It’s clear that’s what has happened here, but I’m comforted that the race is less than 5 weeks away and then I can rest again and resume focus on other things. But also, it’s only 5 weeks away and I don’t know if I’m going to be ready. Which I think is probably true of anyone training for a race this big. I just have to trust that what I’ve been doing is enough on race day. And where it might not be, I can make up for it with that inner grit and grace I keep tucked away for emergencies. My only goal this time is to finish faster than the first one, and I do think I’m poised to make that happen. (Because the first one was laughably SLOW, but I finished!) I’m learning so much about my body and my endurance through this training process. So without further delay, here’s this week’s recap…
Sunday – I can’t count the 6 miles I ran on Sunday because I was viewing them as “make-up” miles from the day before and already included them in last week’s totals. Whatever.
Monday – this was a gym day and I got a really good workout for my legs with the weight machines. Seated leg press, leg & calf extensions, seated leg curl, hip adduction, glutes, and a little bit of arm weights (I did not look to see what the machine was called, but it was much like rowing a boat.) This time I was able to get a ride home from the hubby since it was Labor Day and he was home from work.
Tuesday – Rest.
Wednesday – My original plan was to run on the treadmill for 90 minutes but I was having abdominal cramping, lots of GI issues, so that sort of stole my day. I did manage to walk 1.6 miles at dusk, however, so that was nice.
Thursday – I took a 2 hour morning nap and the rest of the day listened to running podcasts for motivation. I hesitate in sharing this because it isn’t in the training plan, but I think it’s important to note that sometimes you have to listen to your body when it tells you it needs the rest. I’m just afraid my body’s ultimate intention is to keep me from running this race. And running podcasts do help to motivate and educate me, so I don’t believe this was a day wasted.
Friday – This was the big day. The weather was perfect for a long run of 22 miles and I went to bed the night before fully prepared. I had my hydration pack cleaned and filled, I had my gu’s and gels in the pockets of my backpack, and all my clothes and other gear were laid out. I left around 7:30 am, just after the kids left for school. It was misty and overcast and around 60 degrees Fahrenheit. Perfect! I was having so much fun on this run. I had listened to an interview with Martinus Evans, a back of the pack supporter, and he was recommending that we run our training runs slow, and he described it as “sexy pace” which I thought was hilarious. So every time I would notice I was speeding up too much I would say to myself, “Sexy pace, Mel, sexy pace.”
I think I must have been taking the sexy pace too seriously, swinging my hips too hard maybe, because at 7.5 miles that sharp pain in my right knee appeared, fierce and unrelenting. I had decided that day not to run with my knee strap, but I had packed it so I put that on, hoping it would relieve the pain. It did not. I sat down and called my sister, a veteran runner, and asked for her advice. She encouraged me to try walking, and at least that would be time on my feet, but ultimately listen to my body. I walked for another 1.5 miles, and the pain was coming and going, but never going for very long. At 9 miles I stopped and decided I was done for the day. I made a few calls and the first lucky person to answer was my husband, who graciously left work to take me home.
I took the above photo just before I decided to call it quits. I was walking, still in pain, and so happy to see that red house because it meant the public park I had been anxious to reach was just on the other side. I don’t know if you can see the red house, but it’s to the left of the two white houses. The park on the other side is the hub of our city’s local trails and I was really looking forward to running around the lake there.
Once I got home I ate some lunch and got to taking care of my knee. I put on my compression knee brace and kept that leg elevated as much as possible. Going up and down the stairs of our two-story home was painful and slow. I sat in bed, researching what I could possibly do to make this better and avoid it happening in the future. I came across some discussion about the run-walk-run method that I use, and discovered I really wasn’t doing it right. My intervals were running for 4 minutes, walking for one. But according to Jeff Galloway, the perfecter of this method, I shouldn’t be talking walk breaks longer than 30 seconds. And based on my pace and fitness level, I needed to look at a much shorter running interval. I read a comment from another runner who said she runs 60 seconds, walks 30, and that is what has kept her from her knee pain, so I thought “why not give that a shot?”. I changed the settings on my running watch and resolved to try it, once the knee pain was gone, of course.
And do you know what? I woke up the next day with zero pain. Not in my knee or anywhere else for that matter. It was no small miracle, if you ask me. So, I decided to get out and run again. I didn’t know if I could make up the 13 miles I was short the day before, but I wanted to see how the shorter intervals would work for me, and I would pay attention to what my body was doing. I stayed around the neighborhood this time, in case the whole plan went sideways. I could not believe what a difference the shorter intervals made. Before I knew it, I had knocked out 7 miles and felt like I still had a lot of gas in the tank. I would have gone for more but the temperature was rising and I didn’t want to push it. Plus on that 7th mile I thought I felt a whisper from my knee telling me it needed a break.
Now, I’ll be honest. I’m still pretty freaked out about how far I’ve had to stray from my training plan. I feel strong, yet I still have doubts I’ll be ready for this marathon in *gulp* 34 days. Even though I’ve been running for seven years it still feels new to me. I have learned so much but there is still so much more to learn. I guess you could say my faith was in the training plan, and now I’m having to redirect the source of my faith. Sure, ultimately my faith is in God, but I am a pragmatic and I have a healthy regard for the physical world and its limitations. Read: my physical limitations. Which, to be fair, are constantly changing and amazing me. I know that God has been the one to empower me to continue building a stronger heart, stronger legs, stronger lungs. I still remember needing to use a walker to walk, and I don’t ever want to forget that. Because while I’m trusting in God to keep me going, it’s important to respect where I was and realize that’s always still a possibility. Because M.S. is a permanent part of my life, unfortunately. And if I ever need motivation to keep racing, to keep running, that is it. That is my WHY. I’m doing it now because I CAN, and that may not always be true.
For those of you following along, I ran 17.6 miles this week for a total of 240.29 miles marathon training. Add that to the 193 miles I trained for the half marathon in May and you have a total of 433.29 miles banked for the upcoming race on October 15.
The other morning I was reading my devotional and the writer shared that in Paul’s writings to the Galatians, it was as if he was holding up a sign that said on one side: “Don’t fall from grace by living under the Law”, and on the other: “Walk in the Spirit”. This resonated with me because over these past several years I’ve been discovering this freedom in walking with the Spirit. I love this, because as we walk in the Spirit, we know we will sometimes fall flat on our face, but we also know we can get up and continue moving forward.
As I was journaling this thought, I was immediately reminded of the time I fell flat on my face while running to train for my first half marathon. It had happened so fast I wasn’t even sure how it happened. However, after I was able to stand up and assess the damage, I came to realize that I had tripped on the sidewalk, propelling me forward. I really wanted to continue that run that day, but upon seeing my reflection and my quickly swelling lip, I decided it was better to rest and pick the run back up another time. I’ve never tripped on that patch of sidewalk again, even though I’ve run that route several times since.
You see, falling is not failure. When we are walking with the Spirit, when we are looking to Him for guidance, we may still fall. We may still scrape our knees and cut open our lips, but because of His grace and mercy we have the space and time to heal. To stand up, dress our wounds, learn from our mistakes, and get back out there. Maybe in the same direction, maybe not. What I’m encouraged by is the knowledge that I am never alone in the moving forward.
So. I ran another half marathon. This is the one I was training with a friend for, only she was not able to run the race due to a foot injury. However, she was sending me cheers from home throughout the race and was surely with me in spirit! Also, the race went as well as could be expected. Would you like to hear all about it? Grab a tasty beverage and sit back.
This particular race, Bayshore, has been kind of a dream of mine ever since I heard of its existence. The race offers 3 distances, the 10k (which I ran last year), the half marathon, and the full marathon. The races are located in Traverse City, Michigan, where my dad’s family essentially called home for many years. The small city is located in northern Michigan and is home to the Old Mission Peninsula, which is flanked by the Grand Traverse Bay. My grandfather owned property on the peninsula, on the West Bay, and my cousins and I spent a week every summer there. We have so many great childhood memories from our time “up north”. We ate cherries, we hiked, we swam, we strolled along the shore searching for Petoskey stones. My husband and I honeymooned at the cottage, sharing my childhood memories and making new ones. We’ve had family reunions there. My paternal grandparents are both now buried on the peninsula. The property my grandfather owned was eventually sold and the cottage is now gone, but a big piece of my heart still lives on Old Mission. So when I learned there was a race that actually allows you to run all over the peninsula? Sign me up! I ran the 10k last year, which was satisfying but slightly disappointing because only a small portion of the race I felt like I was ON the peninsula. The half marathon distance starts at the north end of the peninsula and follows the coastline of the east bay all the way south into town. This was the race for me.
Now I want you to understand that racing for me is terrifying at moments. Not being able to see the start from far away, being unfamiliar with the terrain. It’s not like home where I’ve memorized the potholes and cracks in the roads and sidewalks. My anxiety for this race began building several days before the race. But standing in the chute among all the other runners was somewhat calming. I was finally here. And I had trained for this, I was ready to go. Until I realized I was standing near the wrong pace group, among runners way faster than me. Not to worry, I simply shuffled back until I found my people. As I stood there waiting I checked my phone and realized I had lost my Bluetooth connection to my cochlear implants. It’s a good thing because reconnecting involves taking off my hat in order to remove my left cochlear implant, remove the battery, replace the battery to make it “discoverable”, put it back on my ear, put the hat back on, etc. So I’m glad I had that time to make sure I was connected. I rely on my music playlist to keep me going throughout these long runs.
Once I was situated and connected I got back to bouncing around to keep my legs warm and as I’m bouncing I realize there’s a strange stillness all around me. It occurs to me that everyone is looking in the same direction, some with hands on their hearts. Ah! It must be the National Anthem playing. I hope I didn’t do anything disruptive or disrespectful. It wouldn’t be the first time. No worries, carry on Mel.
I wish I could remember more of the details of this race, but I’ll share with you what I do remember. Coming up the first hill, I marveled at the vineyards stretched out on each side of me, and the East Grand Traverse Bay glistening in the morning sun ahead. The road leading me forward, filled with runners. I don’t want to forget that moment. Or later, coming around a curve to an open expanse, my view filled with brilliant blue water on my left and lush green evergreens on my right. I thought about taking a picture there because it was so freaking gorgeous but it wouldn’t have done it any justice, and it would have taken away from my enjoyment of it. I would have wasted the moment fiddling with my phone, most likely unsuccessful anyway.
I continued running, soaking in the atmosphere and the majestic scenery. All the anxiety had disappeared. I was thanking God for this experience. It was incredible. I felt strong. I was at peace. It wasn’t until I was about 6 miles into the race, that I started to really feel the burn and the soreness of my legs. I still felt strong, and my legs were moving well. That’s also about the time I started to see more and more spectators. Kids giving high fives, dogs wondering why all these people are running in the street. Posters lovingly prepared: DIG DEEP – a POWER button – WORST PARADE EVER. I love these races. You think making a poster and standing at the side of the road isn’t a big deal, but it IS. Without the spectators, it’s just a grueling training run. We NEED these people.
Around the 8th mile I was starting to really struggle because the weather had warmed up quite a bit. I decided to take my shirt off during my next walk break but with the deaf/blind vest and the sweat sticking to my shirt, it took longer than I anticipated. So by the time I got reset I was running through an aid station with a gang of onlookers to my comically awkward process. It didn’t matter. There’s no shame among runners, and these people understand and have likely seen it all. In fact, later in the race I was passed by a woman carrying her shoes, running in her socks to the next aid station. You do what you have to do. So it was a bit of a chore to get that shirt off but it was so worth it to lower my temperature a few degrees. It gave me the rejuvenation I needed to keep going.
The last few miles of the race honestly felt like drudgery and I just wanted to be done but those spectators kept me going! The runners were still moving ahead of me and I just kept reminding myself what I came for, and that was to complete this race. And I did! I finished! I set a new personal record for myself, and I did not fall. Though after the finish I was struggling to walk. My left foot knew we had crossed the finish line and just refused to lift, so I hobbled along the fence line until I saw my husband and kids walking up, all smiles. They escorted me to the recovery area and found me a chair and some ice cream. It was an incredible moment, getting to share this accomplishment with my three favorite people in the world. I tear up just reliving it.
This was such a great race. It was so difficult, but I have to accept that reality because I’m signed up to run my 2nd full marathon in October. Yes, yes I did. I swore I wouldn’t run another one but it turns out I lied. I’m glad I already committed to the marathon, because I think I would have chickened out after this race. It was a sobering reminder of how difficult and painful it is to run a lot of miles, but it was also a good reminder of the immense joy I still find in running.
It’s serendipitous that my devotional this morning actually talked about how we can have joy and pain coinciding. We can feel both simultaneously, and that’s an incredibly mysterious fact of life. There will be pain. Expect it. But also we have in us what it takes to keep moving forward and find joy in the midst of it. I am so grateful that God has sustained me as I continue to run. That He has given me the inner strength to keep challenging myself and doing these ridiculous races that both terrify and thrill me.
Isaiah 40:29-31 ESV “He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength. Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted; but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.”
Sometimes God sends me little messages to remind me He loves me and that He’s thinking of me. Usually it’s a bunny running across my path while I’m running in the neighborhood, or a deer stopping long enough and close enough for me to see him. I get giddy when I happen to see these things.
Today I spotted this heart shaped water spot on the driveway after taking the trash bin to the curb. Only today I felt less giddy and more comforted. Like God knew I was having a rough couple of days and could use the reminder that He’s always – still – here with me. This disability sh** is a full time job, man. And this week I am feeling beat down. Tired. So this little “love note” was a welcome distraction and comfort.
2 Corinthians 4:8-9 ESV “8 We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; 9 persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed;”
I drafted the following post back in 2017 and I think of the 30 drafts I have stashed over the years, this one still rings true. The good news is that through lots of intensive therapy I have come to find and embrace that self-awareness I was so lacking. I now have a strong sense of what I love and am getting pretty good at embracing it. I praise God every day for the healing He has accomplished in my life.
***** I sometimes notice the people around me, enjoying things, and it often seems foreign to me. How can they know what they love? It must be really great to have that self-awareness, and to embrace it.
I don’t know if I’m making any sense here, but whatever. All that was to say that lately I’ve been trying to make note of the things that make me smile from the inside, deep down in my soul.
1) Parades. I freaking love parades. I can’t not be giddy watching a parade go by. I think it began when I was introduced to Easter Parade by the girls I used to babysit for. Maybe.
2) Caramel corn. I can’t stop eating the stuff. I lament that any time good snacks come into our home they get eaten before I even realize they are here. Not the caramel corn. That’s all mine. I will wrestle you to the ground for it. And if it has nuts? I’m not afraid to send you to the hospital.
3) Paisley. This is not a new realization, of course. I know I love it, and have for decades, and everyone else knows it too. You could even say that for this list, this one was my first love. It makes my heart flutter. Every time.
4) Led Zeppelin. In particular, Over the Hills and Far Away… something about how it eases you in, seduces you for a minute and a half, and then comes in pounding with those drums. It just gets me every time. There are certainly many other songs to love, like Kashmir, Ocean, or D’yer Mak’er, but Over the Hills was I think what sold me on the band in the first place. And it didn’t hurt that I first started listening to them on vinyl.
5) Sunrises. The rising and setting of the sun are visually similar, and both beautiful, but somehow the rising sun is what really calms my spirit and whispers to my soul. When I am privileged to stop and see the sunrise, I am always, always reminded that the fact that I am here another day is an enormous gift. Oh, and coffee. You can really enjoy a good cup of coffee while staring into the sunrise. *****
I still love all those things and have added more since then. Sipping bourbon, writing, singing karaoke, dancing in my kitchen, listening to the mourning doves cooing in my backyard, tending to the lilies in my planters. Lots of simple things bring me joy. Things that have always been around but now I’m finally able to notice them and really enjoy them. I’m three seconds away from breaking into a Barbra Streisand song so I’ll stop here. Have a wonderful night, my friends. This week I challenge you to look for joy in the simple things.
Deaf and half-blind runner with multiple sclerosis
Little M.S. Runner 