I experienced a breakingpoint. It was yet another point of discovery for me. I discovered, as I let down my emotional guard, that I had not let myself really cry - not the hard cry that occurred after my step-dad died. In these past months was too busy making everyone else okay by being "okay".

Last night I cried. I wailed. I let the anger, frustration, and total loss take over. The snot filled my nose to the point of gagging and gasping for air. It was pathetic but needed. When YaYa began to panic at my loss of control, I started to pull back but couldn't. Through my sobbing I told him that I *needed* to cry. He seemed to understand.

In utter sadness we were again aware of how alone we are. My swollen eyes and drooping eye bags reveal the cry baby that I am.

Posted by Juls at 1:55 AM | Permalink

There is a conflict between allowing your teen total privacy and completely invading it. Somewhere there is an acceptable balance between the too worlds. I don't want to give my children the impression that I don't trust them, yet I don't want to be naive enough to assume that they are without imperfection. "Perfect", they are not.

I had always told BoBo that computers captured a record of all activities (chats, websites, and the like), but I had never given it much attention. His comfort in my lack of parent-spy activities must have been huge. He was crushed in discovering that I recently started reading his chats.

He was probably asking himself, What did he do so that my own Mother doesn't trust me?

The answer is nothing. It isn't what he did that worries me; it's teens these day, even some of his friends, are doing. I don't want to have to explain why I wasn't properly parently my child if something horrible where to happen. Guilt is hard to live with and I already feel a little guilty for not catching the silent cancer that grew in Tom. I am a nurse after all.

For me, the issue with arbitrarily picking a few chats to read is that you can take a few statements out of context. Alcohal? What? Without the whole picture the joke wasn't funny; had I read more, I might have noticed the pattern of him giving his chat-ee a hard time for drugs and alcohal. Instead, I was sent into total fear and my actions were not the least bit rational. All that I could think of was the loads of alcohal (left over from the funeral reception) that was stored in our garage. I "downed" it. Every last bit of it was sent right down the drain.

I'm not saying that I regret reading his chats. I do regret my actions that followed. The message that I sent was a clear "I don't trust you." But he never did give me a reason for that. I love my son. He may tell the occasional lie, omit important details, or come up with ill-thought ideas for having fun. But he is "decent," "considerate," and "good." And I want to retain a good relationship with him.

Posted by Juls at 11:13 PM | Permalink

Coach Jeff adjusted my training schedule to allow me to attend the weekly circuit training class at my work. Strength training, including abdominal work, has been lacking from my training. My waistline has been growing in my awareness. I want to be sure that it doesn't grow in the literal sense as well. It seemed that I was all set.

As is my usual morning routine, I clicked over to my Outlook Calendar to view my work schedule for the day. It was a sad sight. I had a continuous set of meetings from 10 am until 4 pm. The lunchtime circuit training class was doomed. *groan*

An hour later, one meeting was being cancelled while another was being added. My day moved along and I traveled from conference room to conference room. Luckily, the 11 am meeting was short. I zipped out of there and straight to the locker room hoping not to miss too much of the class. Through the locker room wall I could hear the music starting. The warm up had just finished. I changed quickly and made a b-line to the potty.

Having had two children, I have a true appreciation of the value of having an empty bladder where running, jumping jacks, and skipping rope is involved. I had other, ill-educated, considerations where the class was involved.

Where running is concerned, I know what equipment and preparation I need. I hate exposing my uppermost portion of my legs and the built in undies of the shorts. I do have my modesty. In preparation, I had packed my tri-shorts instead of my running shorts.

Thinking of the sweat component, I had an extra bra in my bag for after class. I did not, however, pack a jogbra. The need for one became apparent at the first cardio station. Nestled between each strength station was some sort of activity that drew attention to my lack of support. These were the same movements that I had considered when taking the time to empty my bladder despite being tardy. In a room full of mirrors, it is beyond me as to why I let this consideration escape me. *sigh*

So there I was struggling, getting sweaty, bouncing around the room, and exposing my stomach roll - just like the best of them. It goes to show you that we all have our weaknesses. Yours just might be a little different than mine.

Posted by Juls at 12:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

I have not had the confidence in my running that I have had in the past. It is true that I have several months to go before I am normally focused on my goal race. I have just been aware that, due to my current circumstances, I am not able to make my long runs the priority that I have in the past.

My priorities just need to be different right now. It has to be that way, but I am not willing to just give up on my goal. Somehow, I must find a way to make it all work. If I fail in my BQ attempt, it won't be from a lack of trying.

I am lucky that YaYa rides his bike along side of me without much complaint. Still, running with him requires a level of distraction that tires me at times. Cheerfully, he asks a lot of questions along the way. If I am not right beside him, I can't always hear him. Straining to focus on his words, I am less focused on, or aware of, the aspects that I most enjoy in running.

So when Mark emailed me to ask if I'd be running, I emailed back to say that I needed to run alone today. It wasn't that I needed an emotional purge, as is often the case; I just needed to be alone with runner Juls.

I checked the instructions just prior to heading down stairs. Coach prescribed another run where the first and last mile were set mid-way between easy and long run pace. The middle miles were to be at 8:00-8:15/mile. It seemed simple enough.

I hit the road and was initially pleased at the ease of the slow pace. The biggest challenge was not letting my automatic pilot kick in. This was especially true when I hit the hill. My normal instinct would be to use the tackle approach. I completed the first mile at the crest of the hill and let gravity take me to the bottom. The wind felt good and I let myself surge ahead. At the bottom, Garminia was shaking her finger at me as I had gone too fast. It worked out nicely as it allowed me to slow down while navigating the parking lot and street that I needed to cross.

Along the Baylands and back onto the trail, I ran steady. I listened to my breathing, felt my arms pumping and let my body relax. I was focused on the run and it was good. By the time I was into my final mile, I had enjoyed running hard and was ready to cruise back to office at a nice easy pace. The cool breeze was blowing, the sun was shining, and I was smiling.

Posted by Juls at 3:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

Sunday's long run took place in mid-day. It was hot out, but my company was cheerful and cute. I was a little worried about YaYa's ability to use the single hand break, so I kept a tighter reign on him.

The bike path was busy. It seemed that everyone was walking, scootering, cycling, or running the trail. It was a challenge for us to get down the path without hitting or getting hit by someone else. YaYa was real good at announcing "On Your Left" when passing. Unfortunately, others did not do the same.

Along the way I stopped to find the offending rock, or what not, in my shoe. It felt so real and yet I could not find a thing. On the third stop, I pulled my sock off to inspect my foot for a blister. That was when I found it - part of a sunflower seed shell was inside my sock. All that I could figure was that the shell was in the wash and somehow got into my sock. Seeds and baseball seem to go together.

The heat was getting to us. Both YaYa and I were ready to call it quits early In the final miles. We did finish out the long run and followed it up with a cold smoothie.

Well I didn't have the heart to plop YaYa on the bicycle again today. It would just be a means getting my run completed. I couldn't ask him to do it again - Not again.

The morning had been filled up with Shrek the Third, picking up BoBo, and other errands. It was getting late in the day and my run was still not completed. Between baseball practice and dinner at Cindy's was about 40 minutes. Feeling a little disappointed in running this weekend, I was beginning to wonder if I really could get my running up to BQ level. I certainly am not going to get there bailing out on my runs.

Instead, I drove to the baseball field. I left YaYa in the bleachers. He would be in my sight as well as the sight of all of BoBo's team. I, then, ran laps around the edge of the soccer fields until I'd traveled 4 miles. Practice ended a few minutes after I finished. It's nothing to write about (I didn't let that stop me though); it's just more of the same - me "getting it done" and nothing more.

Posted by Juls at 10:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

It is at the sporting events that I am often reminded of Tom. At Saturday's game, I barely held back the tears as BoBo's team pummeled the opposition. He loved to watch BoBo play. He also would have enjoyed joining YaYa in the suck and spit routine they call eating sunflower seeds.

A few feet behind the stands, I made a call to one of our friends. Ed was mostly Tom's friend. His friendship goes back many years prior to my knowing Tom. It's been weeks since I've heard from him. He just disappeared. That has been how it is with most of "our" friends (that were mostly his). They have been more strangers than not.

I wonder if my phone call will help bring Ed out of the pain, or if it will awaken the pain that our friend has tried to bury. Ed didn't call back. Neither did Les. I am afraid to reach out to Dan or George - afraid that they won't call back either.

Maybe they will call me. Maybe I will change my mind and call them.

Posted by Juls at 9:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Today, I found a couple of critical insurance documents, from my employer, that were received in the mail several weeks ago. Not wanting to leave them out when the cleaners came, I had tucked them away in a basket to attend to later.

Yes, I have cleaners - frivolous as it is; it is an expense that is well worth a sacrifice of equal value. I wouldn't be doing as well as I am without them. But that is not the point of this post. The point is the mail.

Each day the mail comes and I sort through a pile of envelopes that are mostly addressed to Tom. I don't let it get to me anymore; it's just part of the new routine. I've notified the project management organizations that send periodicals en mass, the credit card agencies, and the like. Still 95% of the mail is addressed to the deceased, and the remaining 5% is addressed to the kids and I. I expect that a year from now the same will be true.

In particular, I've been looking for mail from my employer. I've been curious as to why the forms that they were going to process and send still haven't showed up in my mailbox. How long could it take to "process"?

As you may have guessed, those papers that I hid away in the basket were, in fact, the missing forms that I was looking for. I found them today as I was looking for the Y-camp forms that I had completed for YaYa's summer and never turned in.

And in today's mail was something that I wasn't expecting from my employer (the "mother company"). It was a Birthday card. Well, sort of.

Actually, disguised as a birthday card, it was a card promoting cholesterol screening and encouraging a lifestyle to ensure good health and a long life. It's a little late for that now but I suppose they meant well.

Had I not worked for this company, in addition to reporting his death to them, I might not be so appalled. Because, if I didn't work for them, he probably would not be on their mailing list. They certainly wouldn't have known that his 50th birthday is just around the corner.

*sigh*

Well, I completed the long lost forms, misplaced the birthday card, and now it's all in the mail.

Posted by Juls at 5:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

It's Friday afternoon; I can almost see past the marathon-like week to the finish line. The weekend is nearly upon us. It's a holiday weekend at that. I've decided that no matter how horrible the race felt, any effort is always worth celebrating. It begins with the end of season baseball party for YaYa's team.

Wishing all of you a relaxing, fun and long weekend!

Celebrate good times, come on!
It's a celebration!
Celebrate good times, come on! (Let's celebrate)

Posted by Juls at 1:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

I have boys. Boys mean DIRT, which means evening baths, which could lead to a little water getting inside YaYa's cast.

*sigh* As they say, "My Bad."

I figured that it would dry out over night. NOT!

This morning, YaYa showed me his soggy cast and mushy skin just as we were arriving at his daycare. It was enough that I was sure that it would be a problem if I let it go. So after dropping BoBo at school, we returned to home to fire up the blow dryer. 30 minutes later, I was on my way.

Who knew that such a short amount of time would have such an impact on my day? Instead of the normal 30 minutes, it took me 60 minutes to arrive at work. My commute time doubled. Leaving the house late had more than a huge effect on my morning commute. There was a trickle down effect.

I was late to check email. With the reduced window of time between arriving and my first meeting, my oatmeal didn't get made. I didn't eat until 11 am and, by then, it ruined my appetite for lunch. I grabbed a light lunch 5 minutes before my 1 pm meeting and somehow failed to eat it. On my way out the door, I poured my soup out and left (30 minutes later than usual) to, you guessed it - MORE traffic.

It went on into the evening. At this point, it was the natural chain of events. Baseball and crewcuts put dinner on the table at 8:45 pm. The kids are barely getting to sleep at 10 pm, and I still have so much left to do. I can't believe that it happens all over again tomorrow.

This week has felt like a marathon gone awry. The miles just keep dragging on - one after another. There is no rest to be had, and there will be no celebration at the end. It's just exhausting. I've got a 10K left ahead of me (so to speak). The naive folks on the sidelines are saying "You're almost there", and you know how it is to hear *that* when you have 6.2 miles left to run. Still, I've done it before, and I know that I can do it again.

Posted by Juls at 8:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

Garminia flaked out on me again. We were outside when I attempted to arouse her. It was no use. Mark took her inside and left her in my office.

Instead of running with Garminia, myPod came to my rescue. It was a nice change. myPod is different from Garminia in many ways. *She* is entertaining. She doesn't care for the pace and distance stuff, but she will keep the time if I poke and prod her enough. And so I did just that.

In the middle of a busy workday, it is a blessing to get outside for a while. It is a joy to feel the warm sun shine on my skin and a cool breeze blow on sweaty body. I just love it.

Today run wasn't the best one for Garminia to wimp out on me. I was supposed to run five miles. My first and last mile were to be run at "easy" pace. The middle three were to be run at 8:00-8:15/mile pace. I started off running down the road towards the edge of the golf course. I couldn't go wrong with the given undefined "easy." It felt like I was running about 9:00/mile.

I had a good idea of where my one mile point was. I could nearly hear Garminia's familiar chirp as the spot approached. I picked up the pace to what felt like 8:00/mile.

I listened to the songs that myPod was singing and though about how badly I needed to add some fresh tunes to my collection. I passed a few girls as I neared my turn around point. YaYa's sleepy voice said, "Go Mom...you're almost there." I certainly wasn't tired of hearing that "song" - it still makes me smile.

The wind was at my back during the return trip. Although I was pretty sure that I was going just as fast, the effort that I had to put out was less. I didn't want to over do it again so I settled in at a comfortably hard pace. I ran behind another runner. He kept his pace steady. Every once in a while, when the gap between us was closing in, he would sneak a peek behind him.

Now, I was hearing Tom's voice, "Come on Julie, you can do it. Dig deep." There was BoBo and DD's voices too, but I focused on Tom's words. I was tiring a bit, but I dug deep to keep my competition within my sights. I sure was looking forward to arriving at the spot marking the return to "easy" pace. Within minutes, I was there. I happily slowed down to resume my "easy" pace.

I stretched, showered, and returned to my desk. A few calculations later and I came up with the conclusion that I hit my pace right on. 42 minutes - 2 miles at 9:00/mile = 3 miles in 24 minutes = 8:00/mile

Posted by Juls at 9:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (12)

While downing a few handfuls of cherries, I did a tiny bit of blog reading. YaYa was upstairs changing for his performance - a song and dance performance that each class takes part in. In the microwave was a corn dog that, I hoped, would hold him over until the actual dinner.

I clicked over to my friend's blog and began reading her race report on her most recent triathlon. While reading, I kept thinking about how Cindy has always offered so much pre-race cheer to me for my races. How could I let her go off and do such a difficult race without so much as a phone call? Some friend.

At a minimum, I am urging you to click over to read her report and cheer her on as she heads off to her main event. In a short 34 days, Cindy will be off to compete in Ironman Coeur d'Alene!

I was half way through Cindy's report when YaYa came downstairs. He told me to close my eyes. When I opened them, he was standing before me with a maroon, white and navy striped shirt and flaming red sweatpants. It clashed in the loudest way. "Don't I look nice, Mom?" he asked with a wide grin. I smiled, gave him an encouraging hug, and fed him an over cooked corn dog.

Our tummies were happy as we left the house and arrived at the school just in time for me to secure a seat at the back of the auditorium. I watched as each class took the stage, half singing along to the music and song and fumbling through the dances. The kids were so cute.

Finally, the last class took the stage. YaYa, proudly wearing his shades of red, took a prominant spot at the left edge of the stage. He danced along to the music and I laughed with delight to see him up there. With his cast waving about, his awkwardness was the perfect outcome. I couldn't be prouder.

With my arm around my stage star, we headed off to the baseball field for BoBo. Then we went home for the real dinner and so that I could finish reading about Cindy's adventure.

Posted by Juls at 7:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

I guess I have been busy today. I arrived at work and launched into emails and the sort. Before I knew it, my meeting reminder was urging me off to a nearby conference room. Following the meeting, I returned to my desk and resumed what I had previously been working on. In the back of my head was the little voice telling me that I had not actually eaten a true breakfast. It was good that I had made a protein shake for the boys and poured off a short glass for myself in the process. I was hungry, but I felt okay.

A few more emails, a couple of phone calls, a trip to the copy machine, and a couple of face-to-face meetings later occurred before I looked at the time again. It was already 1:30 pm. I grabbed my leftovers and returned to my work. Another email. Rush - rush - rush...

Now it is 4 pm and my Yoplait is quietly sitting on my desk. I eat it with a fork while waiting for the final signatures on my critical document. *sigh* There's nothing like a busy Monday to speed the week along.

Posted by Juls at 4:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I talked Big Sis into spending the night. We were equipped with three young ones and trying to work in an eight mile run. If it had just been YaYa, I would have had him ride along side of me on the trail. Since Sis had not planned to stay in town, her two did not have bicycles. I was unsuccessful in borrowing the neighbor's cycles.

The five of us ended up at the local track. I didn't realize that I'd forgot to grab the soccer ball until we were already there. The kids were entertaining themselves in the center of the track as Sis and I ran circles around them. Sis began calculating the number of laps we'd be running. I did not want think about it. It could be the longest eight miles that I've run in a while.

Sis was having a harder time with the monotony of the workout. In an effort to liven it up, I offered to change it up a little with some speed play. After a two mile warm up, we picked up the pace on the straight sections and jogged the curved sections of the track. We did this for a mile.

On the first straight section, I picked up the pace and left Big Sis behind. I was sure that she was trying to boost my ego as Sis BQ'd without even trying (she didn't even want to run Boston). On the next straight, I shot ahead of her again. She continued insisting that she really *was* trying and could only run 10K pace (nothing faster). I don't really believe her, but my ego wants to.

Anyhow, we got through the whole eight mile run. It was not at long run pace but I kept the speed play to a minimum. When it was over, Sis and I cheered ourselves for persisting.

The next challenge would be to pry the kids from their project of building a lake in the middle of a sandpit.

Posted by Juls at 7:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

BoBo's first little league game was Saturday afternoon. I just happened to be at the same time as my nephew's Birthday Party. I sent YaYa ahead with Big Sis, while I stayed back to watch the first three innings.

During my stay BoBo was only up to bat once, but he played the whole time. That is the major difference between High School and Little League - no cuts and everyone plays. I also volunteered to help the coach as the Team Mom, because we all know that I don't have enough to keep me busy. *smile*

At the Birthday Party, a dozen or so little ones where beating the poprocks out of paper mache' planets. My Little Sis spent hours of her free time creating a solar system of piñatas for a party that was Out of this World.

Wearing cleanroom suits with "NASA" stickers, the astronaut children were launched straight into outer space. It's no wonder that no one wanted to return to their home planet.

I was no exception. Instead of orbiting in the rocket ship bounce house, I returned to my own transport vehicle. My next mission was to shuttle my not-so-little earthling to the next town for a sleepover.

By the time I parked my vehicle for the night, I was ready for my own quiet retreat. Equipped with a bottle of red wine, I popped the cork. After one sip, it was evident that my $10 bottle wine was not my best pick.

I quickly abandoned my glass of wine and went straight to my Team Mom duties.

It would only be a short time before Big Sis would arrive with three little exhausted astronauts.

Posted by Juls at 9:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I can feel him staring hard at my back. He's waiting with anticipation - of what, I cannot be sure. I know he is there, but I refuse to turn around and return the stare, let alone a glance. He lets on his frustration with a whine now and again. I actually find that cute in a strange way.

Almost as soon as I wrote that last thought, he changed his tune. It's funny how the males are like that; it must be the testosterone. Now he is deadly quiet. I am sure that he is still there, but I think he must be looking the other way. I still refuse to look.

I lied. I *did* just look. He's doing the pathetic, poor me song and dance. It pulls on my heartstrings. I can't resist. I guess I'll get dressed and take him for a walk.

Posted by Juls at 7:43 AM | Permalink | Comments (9)

BoBo has an assignment to create a "Dream Book,” or a portfolio, filled with anything that inspires them in life to be successful and do the right thing.

I wrote the teacher to get clarification on the assignment. The teacher wrote back with details. The “Dream Book” can include anything they want because it is *their* Dream Book. BoBo should include pictures of their family because these should inspire him. He should also include awards, and pictures of things that he might want to be in life.

The basis of this assignment is to create a book that the students can open up each day, or when they are down, for inspiration to keep following their dreams and stay in a positive.

Following the teacher's explanation, I wrote out the following on my dreams (which do extend beyond my running goals):

I have a dream to one day have grown children that are happy and healthy, successful by their own definition and in their own minds, and generally "good" people. I have a dream to grow old enough to see them experiencing the parts of life that I am lucky enough to enjoy - raising my children, teaching them to do things, watching them play, and even taking up personal hobbies that round out our lives.

My kids are growing up so fast; I fear that I will be into the future in a flash. I know that I can set a good example, set limits, offer love and support - but ultimately my children are responsible for how they turn out. I may need a reminder or two regarding this.

After worrying myself to tears about my dear BoBo's future, I hit the fitness center. I was torn between the Circuit Training class and my prescribed 4 mile run. What was the pace that I was to run? I could only remember 8:10 or 8:15 and that it was fast. *sigh*

I ran my 4 miles, and then popped into the class for the last 15 minutes for a quick upper body and core strength workout.

Posted by Juls at 1:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I re-laced my new running shoes in preparation for today's run. I've been spending a little too much time baby-ing my left shin. It took a while to get things just right. First, the metatarsal pads where too far back. Next, the left insole felt tilted off to the left. Finally, the laces were tighter in one shoe than the other. I hate having to work to get things just right, but my feet demand the obsessive behavior - so I comply.

I didn't check my training calendar. I was going by memory. If my memory served me correctly, today's run was the faster of the weekday runs. I was to run 5 miles at 8:30-8:45/mile pace.

During the run, I pushed to maintain the required pace when I was running into the headwind. With the wind at my back, the run seemed easy; I had to consciously back off to avoid running too fast. I was worn ragged by the time I hit mile 5.

I wondered if the soreness was more because of the wind or because of the circuit training class that I tried out yesterday. I am sure that neither helped me today, but both will be beneficial if I stick with it.

Back at the office, I logged my run and, later, looked ahead to verify the distance and pace for tomorrow's run. Coach noted a 4 mile run at 8:15-8:30/mile pace. I was a little puzzled by this, as I remember only having one run that was at a quicker pace. As a rule, my quicker day is usually on Wednesdays. But this week was different because of Quicksilver. I clicked into the details for today's 5 mile run to find that I ran too fast. Oopsie daisy.

*sheepish grin*
Sorry Coach.

Posted by Juls at 2:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

Runner Susan at Sumy Designs has sent me the proof and it looks great. I am so excited.

A few of my friends noted how much they loved the masthead that I have of Catalina Island. It is, after all, from the trip that Tom treated me to for my 40th Birthday. The trip will not be forgotten. I don't need the masthead to remind me.

If you were even considering making a change to your blog, I would urge you to check out Sumy Designs. Working with Runner Susan was easy; she makes the process of parting you’re your old masthead a painless one.

We started the process with Susan asking me a few questions. Next, I sent some pictures, and told her my favorite colors. I also told her that I wanted my masthead to convey the message that it is about The Journey.

I think that you will be pleased with the change, as I am.

One another thing: Runner Susan has a partner in crime. How could I forget her sister, Amy, who is installing the masthead onto my blog for me.

What service!
Thank you to Susan AND Amy (the gals behind the brilliance of Sumy Designs).

Posted by Juls at 8:44 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)

The Stages of death:
* Shock and numbness
* Yearning and searching
* Disorganization and despair
* Reorganization

…have been studied and disputed. The process, or reaction, is not as defined as they once had thought. It is individual. That’s no surprise to me.

As the days and now months pass, I notice subtle changes. Rather than moving through them, I find a part of me in all of the stages.

Shock and numbness:
There are times when I find myself back in the state of numbness. I see the road ahead, but cannot feel the bumps as I travel the course. I am consistently surprised (in shock) by how much pain there is to be felt.

Yearning and searching:
In the initial weeks that followed Tom's death, I felt his presence often. I would drive down the street and could almost see him beside me. I was acutely aware of each anti-Tom move that I would make. But these past few weeks have been different. He has collected up his energy and moved on.

I don't know what I expected - that, perhaps, his spirit would hang around until the kids were grown. I hoped for it and that brought me some comfort. But a spirit cannot be held in the previous life - stuck - without the freedom to move on. Certainly Tom's spirit could not be held hostage. It would be selfish of me to want that, but I did.

Sometimes I just lie there and wish that I would wake up to realize that this was only a bad dream. I lay there listening to the gentle breathing beside me, turn and open my eyes to find sweet YaYa next to me in bed. I’m lucky to have my children, but I long for Tom.

I see it in the young faces too. Sometimes their long faces say it all, as they reluctantly come to sit at a table for three. It’s just wrong, but it is what it is.

I know that I am not the one who should be watching the Warriors game with BoBo. Without meaning to, I fall asleep instead of offering informed commentary. Does effort count? I hope so.

YaYa just hugs me. He’s quiet and his hugs are often prolonged. Fortunately for us, it is just “sometimes.”

Disorganization and despair:
There was more of the “scattered” feeling before. I still struggle to gather documents, follow up on issues, and plan ahead. I am often too exhausted to care.

And yet…
Reorganization:
I am assuming responsibility for things that Tom used to do. I am learning to move on (as difficult as it is).

Posted by Juls at 1:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

The belt moves along. It requires a minimal amount of my efforts to follow along. I simply lift one foot up, let it fall back down, and then lift the other. On days like today, where motivation is low, it's just the ticket. There's no need to focus on the run. The belt moves along without much on my part. It leaves my mind free to think.

Posted by Juls at 2:17 PM | Permalink

Bad news is popping up all around me. Friends and family are all experiencing little, and big, issues of their own. I want to be supportive and yet it is hard not to get depressed about it all.

I arrived to work today to some devastated news of a dear co-worker's husband. After a long fight, it has been confirmed that there is no winning of this battle against his cancer. It hit me hard - like a slap in the face.

I have prayed for them often - that this would not be the case. I know that my prayers were heard. Why wasn't my unselfish request granted? I'm sorry to be feeling so negative right now. It's just not fair.

I wish that I could help this dear friend. I wish that I could make it better, or easier, for her. But I know that I can't. We have got to find a cure for cancer...somehow. It won't be for my husband, or her's. But there are so many more out there that desperately need a miracle. They scary thing is that they might not even know it.

Posted by Juls at 1:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

Mother's Day was a great day to lounge around. I spent the morning upstairs and out of the way as my three sons made breakfast for me. The smell of bacon, spreading throughout the house, was delightful. I kept busy with the task of revamping YaYa's blog.

I was called downstairs for breakfast after a while. DD kept lighting small fires on the stovetop with the bacon grease. He seemed a little too experienced at putting them out (as if they'd been popping up all morning). It's a wonder that he didn't set the smoke detector/house alarm off. I'd better check the battery.

I was treated to eggs, english muffins, bacon and a nice glass of orange juice. I even had a stack of presents on the table.

My gifts included:
* Two latte glasses.
* A new pair of running shorts.
* and - what every Mother should have - a Jelly Belly dispenser.

I was so delighted with my gifts that I gave the boys a visit to see Spiderman 3.

I hope that everyone else also had a wonderful Mother's Day.

Posted by Juls at 7:04 AM | Permalink | Comments (9)

I'd be happy to sit in this chair or, better yet, in bed all day but I am afraid that it might make it worse. The soreness and fatigue is moving in for the kill, as I sit here trying write my race report.

I began preparing for this adventure last night with the baking of a fresh batch of M&J's energy bars for race morning. I loaded my Camelbak with some 32 oz. of watered down Cytomax, my Epi-pen, and 2 GU packets. Then I went to bed. It was later than I had planned as DD's flight was a little late coming in and the airport was a madhouse. I had another fitfull night's sleep, waking a few times to check the clock or check on little YaYa (who broke his arm yesterday at school).

I was greeted to a cool morning, perfect for running. The turnout of runners was good but a much smaller crowd than you find for road races. The 25K (my event) was liked to the 5K of most races; another group of runners were already on the trail for the 50K and 50M event.

We all gathered back from the chalk line that marked the start. It seemed that no one wanted to be at the front of the pack. We began our run when the race clock was at exactly 60 minutes. A short downhill was quickly followed by a LONG and grueling uphill. I walked as I had planned and did not feel the least bit guilty for doing so. My heart pounded as I plodded. Some walkers passed me and others were passed by me. I was happy when the trail flattened out for a tiny bit before it began rolling up and down (mostly UP).

The downhill portions were equally as steep. It seemed a waste of all that uphill effort only to run downhill again. There was more up to follow. I kept reminding myself to relax on the descents and did my best to keep my wits about me. I did not want to be overwhelmed by the tendancy to feel out of control. Instead of my knees and hips absorbing the trauma from the trail, I used my imaginary brakes to slow me down. It worked.

Before long we were turning down onto the single-track part of the race. I remembered this part from having run the race in 2005. It is lovely. We ran in single file. Ms. Chatty-Cathy was right on my heals. Her non-stop talking was draining.

After a while, I just wanted to get away from her. I took advantage of the offers to pass and was soon running all by myself in the middle of nowhere.

What could be better than running through the wooded areas and the fields of wild flowers? It was a perfect way to start out my Mother's Day weekend.

Garminia clicked off each mile (as she saw it), and I paid no attention to the time of each mile split. The information that I was most interested in was that a mile, or so, had passed. I was able to gauge the distance to the three aid stations along the course (the 1st was at mile 6.4).

I had already taken my 1st GU by the time I hit the aid station. I could feel my Camelbak lightening. I drank two small glasses of water and was on my way. There wasn't any food at this aid station. I said that I was looking forward to "lunch" at mile 9.7.

I could see the runner ahead of me for a while. In no time, he was out of sight and I was alone again on the trial. I noted the chalk arrows at each intersection. Soon I could see the fire road approaching. There were a few cheery walkers who yelled down to me, "How are you doing?" I replied, "I am good IF there is an arrow by where you are standing."

I was doing well. I was happy to be in the wide fire road as there were friendly people milling about. I passed a girl who was part of the 50K. I cheered her on with awe and enthusiasm. She was tired but she glowed in received my admiration.

Up ahead was the next aid station where I picked up some various snacks including pretzels, chips, a peice of peanut candy, and a Cliff Shot (for later). With my Camelbak refilled with water I was on my way. A few steps later, I was reminded of the areas that were rubbing and starting to chaff. I turned around and asked for some Vasoline.

I returned to the fire road with a glob of Vasoline in my hand and ran along trying to lube as I went. Fortunately, the only one in sight was ahead of me. He had no idea what was going on behind him. He had no idea that I was even behind him until I passed him (thanks to his music).

I passed other people along the way, but they were not part of the race. Other runners passed me as well who were not part of the race - lucky for me.

I didn't see another racer until I was at about mile 13. There was a man stretching while looking at the park map. I waved as I approached and told him that we were about 13 miles into the race. He was glad to hear it. I was glad too as my stomach was starting to cramp up. I reached for the Cliff Shot and forced myself to swallow the thick glob of carbs. I didn't like the taste or the consistency and imagined that my teeth would be black from the dark color of it. Lovely.

I ran up and down the hills and checked in with Garminia for the approximate distance run. I was thrilled to see the final aid station come into view. With 1.5 miles to go, I grabbed a handful of pretzels and continued up the next steep hill. I struggled, and walked until it flattened out.

The downhill sections were equally as traumatizing. I was too aware of the potential for injury as I tried to remain in control and stay relaxed. I passed another runner as I ran up the next hill. The trail went up and down bringing views of civilization into view. Soon, I was seeing more than just houses; I was seeing parked cars, people milling about, and the flagged finish shoot.

I picked up the pace a little. From behind me, a man's voice yelled, "I'm gonna get you. Get going." I turned up the heat and plowed into the shoot passing an innocent bystander right at the line.

The soreness and chaffed areas are here to remind me of an awesome race. I finished with a PR on this 25K course (which is actually 16 miles). 2:50:55!

Happy Mother's Day to all of you Mom's. Have a great weekend!

Posted by Juls at 11:16 AM | Permalink | Comments (16)

I arrived at the baseball field at the top of the 7th inning. The batter from the other team hit what was "apparently" a blatant foul ball that was called fair. Two runs were scored since BoBo's team was slow to act (since it should have been called as foul).

Standing behind home plate, I felt a little out of place as the other team began snide comments. This was *not* the typical crowd of prior games. I moved over to our side to mingle with my own.

We were still ahead by two runs as the next batter came up to bat. His hit shot straight to the in field where it was retrieved, sent to 2nd and immediately to 1st base.

The game ended and our team came out on top.

Next up: Little league.

Posted by Juls at 7:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Everyday, on the way to work, I hear one of the local radio stations' contest on "What's the measure of a man?" It strikes me funny that this contest would be run just before Mother's Day but the newest song/album that the contest is circulating around ISN'T called the "measure of a woman." Although MY MAN can't enjoy the prize of a private concert with Jack Ingram and Taylor Swift (nor would he have wanted to), I provided an entry just the same. I know that I will enjoy the concert if I win the random drawing.

What IS the measure of a man?
Back when I was a teenager, it might have been the cutest, funniest, or nicest guy in the school. Perhaps it was the guy with the coolest car.

As I got older, my perspectives changed. I began to look at men and watch how they were as fathers, supporting their families financially and through the quality time invested.

But, earlier this year, when my husband was diagnosed with late-stage Cancer, and then died a mere twenty-three days later, my perspective has evolved yet again. Now, the relationship that my children, and myself, are left with is through our memory of him and some of the lessons and values that he taught.

Here are a few examples:
* Go after your dreams. You can have it if you want it bad enough.

* Don't spend your life treading water. Do what you have to do to be able to stay afloat, survive, and come out ahead. Be a swimmer.

* Success is measured not by the money that you make, the number of toys that you own, or the house that you live in. It's about the quality of the relationships that you create beginning with the day-to-day interactions.

Is it possible that you cannot fully measure a man until he has lived out his life, however long or short, and have only the memories and lessons that he left behind?

Posted by Juls at 1:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

Everyone asks me, "How are the boys?" It is so hard to tell for sure. I say that they are okay "for the most part" but who really knows. I know that I have good days and bad days. I expect that the same is with them.

The emotions are certainly intensified in our home these days. The frustration, sadness, and anger come on ten-fold. What's a Mom to do? It's hard to know exactly.

YaYa and I came home from the baseball game to find BoBo in the front shooting baskets. It seemed normal enough, but something wasn't right.

Very non-challantly, he asked me for something to which I said "no." This wasn't what he wanted to hear but I figured that he shouldn't be too surprised. But it *was* a big deal, or at least turned into one. I didn't occur to me that it was something bigger until he disappeared out the front door.

Now, teenagers do need their space often enough and BoBo has been no exception. I figured that I'd give him a while to cool down before I went for a ride through the neighborhood. After a while, I did pile YaYa into the van and drove around.

I called BoBo's cell. He kept answering and then hanging up. It didn't allow me to leave a message so I called my voicemail and sent a voicemail to him from there. I said that he needed to call me back or his weekend would be in jeapardy too. He promptly called.

In the meantime, YaYa was near tears asking what would happen if BoBo never came back. The poor kid; he shouldn't have to worry about these things.

BoBo told me where he was and asked for an hour by himself. It turns out that it wasn't really me but he still needed to be alone. I granted him some alone time. Minutes later we were sending text messages back and forth to re-negotiate the curfew. Technology sure has changed things since I was his age.

In my messages, I told him that I loved him and that I was sad too. I said that I thought we should be together but allowed him the time. I told him that I wouldn't be sleeping until I knew he was safe at home.

And NOW home is where he is.

Posted by Juls at 8:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)

I was thinking about this on today's run:

In the past couple of days I have been at a loss for words. As much as I may inspire you, you also inspire me - to write. I write my posts and then wait for the comments to roll in.

But lately, even though my site is being visited, I haven't been receiving many comments. My stat counter shows 112 visits yesterday, and 55 readers already today. So either, my visitors got to my site by accident OR it is possible that what I have had to say wasn't worth a comment.

Lurkers, or rather those of you who read but *never* comment, I am taking a census. I am giving you permission to write on my bathroom wall (so to speak). Basically, I am saying that it is okay to just say, "I was here" and give your name. If you'd like, you can even tell me what sort of posts you like best, what you don't like, or how you found me.

Step out of the shadows and be counted. After all, you're being counted by my stat counter (somewhat) anyways.

As for the rest of you, your comments are ALWAYS welcome and I do appreciate your feedback, encouragement and advice. Thank you all for your continued support.

Posted by Juls at 2:16 PM | Permalink | Comments (28)

I enter my office to impeccable order. Everything has a place. Somewhere between then, and the time where I grab my purse to leave, papers get strewn about, cups and empty Gladware gather on my desk, and order transforms into chaos.

Then...it is time to clean up and go home.

I am feeling more exhausted this week. I cannot determine which came first, the illness or the lack of "good" sleep. No matter; I am still getting what I need to done. At the end of the day, the kids are fed, and the bills are paid. I suppose all is well enough.

Posted by Juls at 4:43 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

In the dark of the night,
I could swear the sunlight was shining.
Too early for the sun
and too late for my mind
to be so active.

Too many thoughts of importance haunting me.
I lie there
Inspecting my bare ceiling and walls.
Listening to my children
Lying still in their beds
Quietly snoring.
My nose is stuffy,
and my throat is sore.
I am fighting against the passing of time
for a few hours of deep sleep.

The alarm jolts me out of bed
when morning hits.
I clutch the respite of my flattened pillow
in a feeble attempt to preserve the quiet
that my brain has finally created.

Posted by Juls at 12:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Juggling baseball games, and bike races, Big Sis and I tried to schedule a run together while she was in town. She was trying to do me a favor in the sisterly kind of way, but as it turned out, Sis needed to run a lot more than I did.

We met at my house, changed, and left the kids with her husband, Carlos. Again, pushed for time, we quickly headed out to the ranch for a hill run. Time was limited, as we had dinner reservations to take my Mom out for an early Mother's Day feast.

Out of the van, we were running almost as soon as our feet hit the dirt. By the time we hit the uphill portion of the run Big Sis had changed her tune. No longer was she cheering, "Hurray! We *finally* are running together." Instead, her own version of loss, sadness, and frustration began to pour out. She began venting, slow and careful at first. The first of many stories came as we worked the hill.

We continued upwards. Her words began to flow out with more fluidity. It seemed that the story was picking up speed and intensity, and Sis' steps kept pace with ease. With Sis just a few steps ahead of me, I was working to keep up. I strained to follow the story, trying hard not to interrupt her, ever aware of it's importance. I was also acutely aware that we were not in my long run pace. My body was straining to keep up.

Periodically, in the middle of the story, Sis would offer some tips on form. "Use your upper body," she would say, and then she would return to her story. It almost didn't register as different. I tried to find the context to the story. By the time I figured it out, she was back with another serious of helpful hints. But I was cooked, and I was fine with my efforts. I would have blocked her out to focus on the hill, but the rest of the story was to follow.

Mile after mile, and story after story, our run would provide much more than a workout. It was clear that I had been managing my stress and pain through my running. It was a different story with Sis. She had initiated this run for *me*, but it was evident that she needed to be as persistent to giving a run to herself.

Stress, painful experiences, frustration, and loss are a part of life. It sucks, but there it is. The experiences are different for each of us, but the reaction is equally important. How can you care for others, such as your family, if you haven't taken care of yourself?

A consistent undercurrent in the stories was that Sis had allowed others to vent and pour out their critical observations of her actions and choices. They had disagreed, but that didn't mean that her way was wrong and theirs was right. It was just different. The problem was that Sis had internalized it all and held it. I think that she did this because she loved them and didn't want them to feel the way that they were making her feel. And "they" were just reacting to more pain and loss of their own.

As I passed on some of my wisdom, I could hear it for myself. She and I are so similar in more ways than just our looks. "Run," I told her, "Run not for the goal, for others, but for *yourself* and your health."

The amazing thing was that I felt better in the process of helping her. Letting Sis vent forced me to forget my own sadness and emptiness -- for a little while. We had a great run, and then returned to the rush of time constraints and the stress of finding a teenager who was, apparently, away from his cell phone. *sigh*

Posted by Juls at 9:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

It's a funny thing,
certain items
are important
to include in the packed workout bag.

Especially,
IF you plan to run.

Socks - for example.
*sigh*

Posted by Juls at 2:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)

Today, Little Miss Runner Pants wrote about how we talk about the goals but, so rarely, about the achievements. Yes, we talk the talk, but then we are silent when we walk the walk. She urges us all to brag.

Little Miss Runner Pants said, "BRAG!...let your own accomplishments be what drive you to go harder, faster, longer...and then when you're done turn back around, roll up your sleeves, lace up your shoes, and get back out there and do whatever it is that you've been doing, that's gotten you to where you are!!"

She has granted us bragging rights, so let's play along.
I'll go first.

Where do I start?

"Little Julie" used to be a very introverted, shy, private and insecure person. In reading through some of Tom's journals, it is apparent that my insecurity was somewhat of an issue between the two of us in the early years of courtship. I am sure that he never dreamed that I would be reading what he wrote so many years ago. Nonetheless, I am no longer that same person.

As a working mother of very active children, I have become adept at managing impossible schedules. If there is a way to make it all happen, then I would make it happen. Correction, if there was a way AND if I *wanted* to make it happen, I would find the way. I have learned the skill of prioritization and finding balance in my life. I had, up until Tom's passing, come to a point where I had all that I wanted. I had the husband, the children, the house, the career, and my hobbies. What more is there? Health. I have mine, the kids have theirs, and we thought that Tom had his.

I digress - back to the topic.

Somewhere along the line I became more outgoing, more self-assured, and more of myself. I am no longer afraid to have my own opinions. I have learned to not be afraid to make those opinions known if I feel that my opinion should be known. This led to a few disagreements, but I would remind Tom that this was something that he asked for. I also, however, learned to keep my opinions to myself when it didn't matter.

In regards to my running hobby, I am most proud of the example that I have provided to my children. My children see me as someone who is not afraid to set a far-reaching goal and go after it. I don't give up when I don't reach my goal; I re-evaluate things and develop a new plan of attack. It is my hope that they will know that something worth dreaming is worth the effort. Life is a journey that we can endure or enjoy. It's not always easy, but let's try to enjoy it more (while we have it).

Now, it's your turn. Yeah, YOU. Go ahead and write your bragging blog and comment to let me know that you did it.

Posted by Juls at 2:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)