I sat in the auditorium, listening to the news of how our little company would be affected by the recent plans to “restructure.” It was worse than I had imagined.

Our site will be shut down by the end of 2007. Six hundred (out of 740) positions would be “reduced.” The remaining folks will have to relocate.

I took my envelope and, rather than open it with everyone else, I escaped to my office to get the news in private. I felt like Charlie, only there wasn’t any Golden Tickets to be had.

I slowly lifted the edge of the envelope open to expose the white paper and took a deep breath. I considered putting off opening the letter until after my lunch break, and removed the letter to reveal my future.

Dear Julie:

This letter will serve as official notice…
you will be permanently laid off (employment terminated) on December 28, 2007…

It was not the golden ticket that I hoped for, but I wasn't surprised. My mood has been fluctuating from optimism to dread all day. I want to make the best out of this and I have five months to do it.

Posted by Juls at 12:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (20)

My Monday was going well. It was fueled by plans for my run that I was planning to do after work. Thirty minutes before my day ended, however, the mass email began arriving in all of our mailboxes. The time had finally come for the Mother Company to validate the rumors that have been circulating. There would be meetings the following morning.

I told myself that I wasn't going to worry about things that I had no control over. I wasn't going to fret over losing my job until I knew that I was truly losing it. I changed my clothes as soon as I got home. It was a hot day. I considered waiting until morning to do the track workout. I knew that it wasn't likely that I would get up on time.

As I drove to the track, I began thinking about my career, the house payment, the children... I ran my 2 mile warm up. Lap after lap, I began to lose track of the count and had to consult with Garminia for the answer. I could already feel the fatigue; it was mental fatigue more than anything. How much more beating down can I endure this year?

As I began my first interval, I cursed the rails that were guarding the inside lanes. I got mad at the wind when I was fighting it and missed it when it was no longer cooling me. As each lap went by I could see my pace slowing. A voice in my head told me to just give up - come back in the AM when it was cooler, I was rested, and there were less people to maneuver around.

Another voice urged me to keep on believing in myself. It was telling me that I was strong and capable, and that I would come out on top despite the raw hand that I was being dealt. I pushed onward only to produce two 2-mile intervals that were 35-45 seconds slower than what I was asked to do.

At bedtime, I called on my Placebo Stones again. YaYa held on to "Trust," while I gripped "Believe."

Posted by Juls at 8:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Marathon Maritza tagged me for the Rockin' Girl Blogger meme that has been circulating. Although I have already had the joy of participating in this meme, I felt like I could not just ignore the tag.

So, if YOU have not yet encountered this meme on a more personal level, I urge you to click on the log in my right sidebar. Go ahead...Rock On Girl!

Posted by Juls at 10:55 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

The hot weather reminds me that delaying going out for my run isn’t all good. At 10 am I am realizing that my large Camelbak is missing, and my Fuel-belt bottles were put away dirty (mistake) after my last run. By the time I arrive at the park it is already 10:45 am. What makes things worse is that I have an afternoon get-together for which I would need to shower, and pickup stuff for Rootbeer Floats. *sigh* Why should this run be any different from the rest; it seems like the case for all of my runs these past few months.

The difference is that I am alone today. I will not need to worry about YaYa on his bike, or keep a conversation going with anyone. Today, I will run where I want, and at my own pace. It is good.

It is 5 miles into my run when I finally arrive at my favorite portion of the trail. With the steepest climbs behind me, the trail narrows to a single-track that is partially framed with a wooden fence. The trail begins to flatten out for a short bit and then rolls and climbs in switchback fashion.

It's hot out and I welcome the shaded running path. I let my mind wander where it wants. It takes me back to the day when Tom introduced me to this part of the park. Back then, Tom and I were both beginning marathon runners training for our first marathon. Back then, he was healthy, or so we thought. It is likely that the hip pain that he experienced in his training was related to the tumors (rather than the running). Little did we, or his doctors, know of what was growing within him.

My mind wanders so more, remembering the first time Tom and I did our 20 mile training run on this course...It was pouring down rain and I had never traveled that far on the trail. We discovered that it is miserable after the 8th mile. But Tom was a trooper and it was I who was spewing fowl words from my mouth on the way to the turn around point. By the time I'd reached the end of the road, I was mindset on heading back as soon as we could. I watched my watch closely as we had a sitter that had a limited amount of time available to watch the boys.

I waited for Tom, who joined me a few minutes later. He walked through the horse gate and continued on. "Where are you going?" I questioned, noting that we had done the distance. Me told me that the road was just 0.2 miles more and that he wanted me to see it. "Come on" he urged "You can call it ‘bonus distance.’" I grumbled and followed, irritated and amazed at how content he was to go further after such miserable travels to that point.

Although the weather is hot, today's run will not be miserable. I rarely go out past that 8 mile mark. Today, I will run until I reach it and then turn back as the steep, uneven, rocky terrain does not allow for what I would call "running."

I loved training together (word used loosely). The aches and pains bonded us. The accomplishments validated us as a couple. It was something that we had in common besides the kids.

So, when Tom stopped training at the end of our training for Big Sur, I was saddened. I couldn’t blame him though. It was tough times; he’d been laid-off and was unable to find work. His every moment was dedicated to finding work. Although he was depressed and tired, he pursued his networking and interviewing with tireless effort. I admired him even more as he put everything into his efforts for returning stability to our family once again.

Now, as I run alone on the trail, I feel my body struggle to climb the hill. It is more fatigued today than it has been – an outward sign of the extra energy that it takes to grieve. I slurp down another GU packet, and within 15 minutes can feel my body revive. I reach the tower that marks my turn around, stretch, and turn back.

The downhill is like a celebration of reaching my destination. I relax and listen to the sound of the things, inside of my near-empty Camelbak, moving up and down. The ground crunches beneath my feet and my breathing is easy. I feel alive and that is good.

Posted by Juls at 3:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

There is a familiar feeling running through my body this morning. I haven't felt this feeling is S-O-O-O long that it is almost unrecognizable. It is the jitters. It's not from coffee; I am still titrating up to my therapeutic level (nursing my morning latte). It is the beginnings of enthusiasm for the marathon.

I've been feeling an overwhelming guilt of spending the money for the flights. Flying the just myself to Chicago for the race is not all that expensive, but flying my family of three (four if DD can come) IS expensive. The guilt factor comes in because this is for ME and me alone. It's for MY running hobby.

The thing is, I *need* to have my family there with me. I'd like to see them along the course, but I fear that they won't be there. I am not sure if Tom's family would be into that whole scene. At a minimum, I need them at the finish. I am pretty sure that I am going to need a few serious hugs to rescue me from the emotional let down of not having Tom there to greet me. I have actually had a few bad dreams to this effect.

In my dream, I finish the race (sometimes I BQ, and other times not). I see Tom and go to him crying that I am so glad that he is there, and that I thought he was dead. I hug him and cry. Then DD comes and pulls me off of this stranger who has graciously let me hug him and cry...and I am devastated.

You can see...I need to bring the family. I need to release the guilt and think of my marathon as my therapy. Then maybe I can justify the expense.

Caffeinated Jitters
I've now finished my latte and my mind is whirling. Possibilities are coming into view.

I could not seem to locate my Frequent Flyer card for United Airlines. I've never actually used my miles and I fly very infrequently. Last year, when I was trying to get to Duluth, MN for Grandma's Marathon, I was so disappointed to discover that United doesn't fly to Duluth.

This is the part that qualifies this post as my Positively Perfect entry for the week.
The caffeine is binding to the appropriate receptors, causing the synapses to fire and my memory has kicked in. I remember the travel website for my work has my FF number stored on it. I retrieve the number, log onto United's website and book three flights to Chicago and back. It was easy! It was fun. I am going to CHICAGO!

EEK!
Race day is only 10 weeks (and 2 days) away. It's hard to believe that my training will be put to the test this soon. Although I have CIM as "Plan B," I am planning my BQ (Boston Qualification) to be at the Chicago Marathon.

Help
I need YOUR help. Who has run the Chicago Marathon? Tell me about it. Please, inspire me but also let me know the lessons learned. Remember, I am in Northern California and have traveled very little. Tell me about the weather, important information about the culture, or whatever else you think might be of help. If you are running this year, or live in Chicago and plan to be in the crowd, let it be known.

Posted by Juls at 8:39 AM | Permalink | Comments (8)

I think that I have said that I am tired of putting up a happy front. I am fine with people just saying "hi." It is when THE question "How are you?" is posed that I just don't know what to say. "I'm good?" No. Not really. How can you be good when your world is so different. My routine answer of "Okay" has grown old, so I just shrug and give them the I don't really know look.

I just don't have the words to give the short answer to the question. I have only the long, drawn out description that most people really don't want to know. It scares them. It scares me too.

I drove BoBo to the baseball field to watch the Senior All Stars play the final game in the local tournament. Though I cannot remember what we fought about on the way to the game, I can remember that I was feeling inept to face the crowd that was growing in and around the stands. I had to dodge THE question for a bit longer. I left YaYa with BoBo and went for a much needed run.

I ran a little harder than I was supposed to. Harder and faster than "easy" pace, but it was cathartic. I let the thoughts and images move through me like the air that I was breathing. In. Out. In. Out. The fears, the fight, the headache that I had all day long, and the work day. I breathed it in, and blew it out.

At the end of the run, I was able to face the crowds and THE question. I still didn't have an answer to it, but that was okay too. I was able to enjoy watching the team hit their way into the next tournament.

Posted by Juls at 7:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

I viewed my planned workout for today. More 400 meter intervals were in order. I thought back to the last time that I did the 400m repeats and how I didn't actually remember the correct time target for each repeat. I figured that a little help would be in order so I talked Garminia into taking on this task.

In my office, I communicated the planned workout and goal paces for each segment. The Garmin Training Center acted as a translator for this process so that there would be no misunderstandings once we hit the road.

Soon after I began the workout, Garminia started in on me. "Slow Down," she chirped. I did as I was told, thinking how smart it was of Coach Jeff to dictate a slow warm-up pace that I would help me to be better prepared for the speed segments of the workout. The wind was blowing hard and I was delayed my signal for Garminia that I was beginning the first of ten 1/4-mile repeats.

I finally got brave and went for it. I signalled to Garminia and began running hard into the wind. She hollared for me to slow down. I was happy to comply. Within a few seconds, Garminia began hollering again. I couldn't hear well enough to understand what she wanted. I looked at her only to find that she was done with the signal. I kept running. She began hollering again. I quickly looked her way to see her signalling "Speed Up." I'm trying I whined. I pushed harder, feeling the wind playfully blocking my way like a big brother testing my abilities. "Speed Up" she hollered. "I am" I yelled back. Garminia kept on me "Speed Up...Speed Up...Speed Up!"

I guess you get what you ask for. "Oh SHUT UP already" I hollered back to Garminia. I was trying but I just could not hit the targetted pace. Even after I turned around so that Wind was on my side, trying to give me an encouraging nudge, I could not hit my goal.

I thought about how it might have been easier to see how much longer I would have had to push if I were on a track. Coach had requested that I try to do these workouts on the track, but my schedule just wouldn't allow it today. In the end, it may just be that the target paces are just a few seconds out of my ability. Still, I'll trust Coach to give me workouts and assume that he is either giving me a goal that I will eventually be able to achieve as long as I don't give up, or that the goal will be adjusted if I continue not to meet it.

I could make a lot of excuses as to why I wasn't able to hit the requested target pace (running into the wind, not as solid of footing on the dirt portions, etc). Instead, I will congratulate myself for not giving up. Believe me, I thought about it many times. Instead I kept up the effort to the end and had a Good Workout in spite of my limitations.

Now, I have to appologize to Garminia for telling her to Shut Up when she did exactly what I asked her to do. I have to Thank her for believing in me when I didn't believe in myself.

Posted by Juls at 2:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

I grabbed my book and threw it in my bag to take to work. Today is scheduled as a rest day from my marathon training. I was hopeful that I'd enjoy a relaxing lunch break and finally have some time for reading. That was a big mistake; I probably cursed it.

I was so frustrated, angry even, at the request for further edits to the protocol. The feedback was good, but I was still at my wit's end. It isn't as if we have just started working on this. We have been working on this project for over 3 months and NOW a few select people have finally found the time to read it.

I was certain that the required edits would take over my evening too. I am so tired of bringing my work home with me. I know that everyone does it, but I can't help but feel cheated out of what little time I have for myself.

Thankfully, I was able to push through to the very end of the day. So now, I have some select reading of my own. It is finally my time.

Although, I have had the book since Saturday morning, I am only on page 7. I wanted to take my time and savor this book (since it the last), but I was not planning to take it this slow.

Anyhow, I have to go now; this muggle has a date with...
Okay, I admit I actually don't have a clue what I have a date with.

I got it. I have a date with HARRY. Yeah, that's it. Harry, sweep me away.

Posted by Juls at 5:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

Generally, my days are not all that bad. I am happy that I am functioning in life, that I haven't crawled into bed and refused to get up. It is true that my grief kicks in stronger at the end of the day, after the dinner has been cooked, the dishes are cleaned away, and the kids are enjoying the computer or television. This is the time of day where I feel the most loss. I don't, however, wallow in my pain during every moment of every day. I have moments of hope for a future that is happy.

Running, I have heard, stimulates the release of endorphins. Termed the "Placebo Effect," research shows that simply believing that a positive effect may happen stimulates a release of endorphins similar to those released in running. I get this idea and have decided that I will initiate my own placebo effect by instituting a new routine for the remainder of 2007.

Similar to the Running Chick's Thursday posting of "Three Beautiful Things," I planned committing to posting a "positive" post at least once a week.

I had *planned* to post this on Friday's. This post was essentially written then. I was in search of something "positive" that would go with it. But Friday came and went and I wasn't feeling particularly "positive" about anything.

So on Saturday, I met with Brit of "The Running Stitch," and Mia of "Mia Goddess." I haven't met a lot of RBF members, so I was a little nervous about how well the meet up would go. I had only discovered Mia's blog an hour before the meet up.

We all got along famously. In fact, we talked in excess of 4 hours. We laughed a lot and it was such a healing. Mia even brought gifts for everyone. She crafted a Shaun Cassidy album into the bowl that housed home-baked cookies, some cute fabric pieces, and two hot wheels cars that are apparently all the rage with the kids these days.

Mia's gift for me was so right on that I was in a state of shock when she said it was for me. In a wooden box five smooth stones lay. Each of them had a single word carved on it - "Smile," "Believe," "Hope," "Trust," and "Love." It was positively perfect - my little placebo stones.

The stones are now displayed in my room beside the alarm clock. They are something positive that I can literally hold on to as needed. Last night, YaYa went to sleep clutching "Love." Positively Perfect AND Powerful too.

Posted by Juls at 9:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

I was in hostile territory early in the day. BoBo was letting me know, in no uncertain circumstances, that he was NOT happy about having to attend the Bereavement Camp.

I kept thinking about how Tom, if he were alive, would have made it clear to BoBo that he had no choice. His delivery of the message wasn't always pleasant though; there were times when the whole van was filled with unhappy people going to a "fun" family event...only it wasn't fun anymore. Then it occurred to me, if Tom was *alive* none of us would be going to today's camp.

BoBo's anger only grew as our van traveled the winding road. By the time we arrived (30 minutes early) he was so difficult to be around that YaYa and I left him in the car for a while. After a bit, he joined us in the parking lot and we walked down to the event.

The location was a lovely retreat center located in the mountains. It was so peaceful whereever you went on the property. The staff was friendly and welcoming. BoBo, YaYa and I wandered around to see frogs on lily pads, coi fish, horses, and two very cool dogs. I soon knew that it would be okay.

There was a get acquainted session, lunch and then some break out sessions. BoBo went off with the "Teens," YaYa went to the "Middles," and I was with the "Spousal Loss" group.

This was my first experience of face to face support groups. The redwood trees made a safe shelter for our group to tell about ourselves. I imagined it would feel a little like the AA groups that I attended in nursing school.

The introductions begin with "My name is ____ and I have been a widow for ___ (amount of time)." What followed was different though. Out came the stories and, often, tears. They would talk about their children, how the kids were doing, and how they were managing as the only surviving parent. You cannot imagine the experiences. They all touched me on one level or another.

I talked about how when you present yourself to the world as doing "okay", being generally together, that people wonder what is wrong when you suddenly show sadness. I described how I felt that nobody understood why I was still on the grief path (why it wasn't over yet). Everyone in the group seemed to relate - apparently this is common. Sadly, even those whose loss was more recent than mine could relate. We talked about how the offers to "help" have dwindled. It's the same with me too. I find that offers are mostly absent, or so off based that I am then left with the chore of trying to let the offer down gently because the person offering is well-meaning.

After the session, I found YaYa by the horses. He already had a ride and was waiting for another turn. Each time it looked like his turn was coming, another child would arrive that had not yet ridden. He was a good sport about and even helped them locate the correct size helmet. We rode the little train and then he returned to wait.

Meanwhile, I learned that BoBo had done well in his group and was now out hiking with his new friends. That made me smile.

By the time the day ended, there were many happy families. BoBo, YaYa, and I returned home for a swim in the neighbor's pool followed by the lazy cool's special (In 'n Out Burger).

It was an exhausting but good weekend. Nothing else got done - not laundry, not cleaning, not bill paying. Still, it was good.

Posted by Juls at 7:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

She titled today's post "Some Runs just bite." *Hee Hee* I can relate to doing whatever it takes to get out and run. A little exercise goes a long way in changing the mood for the day, or at least keeping the waistline from expanding any further. She describes pushing the jog stroller up steep hills. Hum? I've been there - done that.

But those days of pushing jog strollers are gone. Today, YaYa (on his bike) and I (running beside him) hit the trails around my work for my long run. I was trying to fit it in between dropping BoBo off in our old neighborhood and meeting Brit. Tomorrow we will attend the Children's Grief Camp, so I wanted to get my long run out of the way.

The weather was sunny, but breezy. It felt great to be out. Running on mostly dirt trails, and away from the pedestrian, dog, and cyclist packed bike path that we usually use for the Mother-Son Runs, was a refreshing change. I was looking forward to joining up a couple of my lunchtime routes to make the required 12-14 miles. But things didn't go as planned.

We'd only traveled about 2 miles when YaYa struggled to make it up a rather easy hill. My mind thought, this is going to be one l-o-n-g run. I was worried about making it back on time to meet up with Brit because of the rate that we were going. But I tried to stay patient. I waited for YaYa to walk his bike up the hill and then began running again. I kept my pace slow (s-l-o-w-e-r than Long Run Pace) so that he could catch up.

I heard him coming up behind me. The sound of something rubbing filled the air with each pedal stroke. The thing was he was wearing shorts, so it couldn't be his pants. I *hoped* that there was something stuck to his spokes (like at piece of paper). "My bike is making a funny sound, Mom," he said. I looked back to see his tire completely flat. *sigh*

We turned around and walked back to the office. Tomorrow's run (or tonight if a miracle happens) will be better.

Still, YaYa and I had a nice run/walk experience. I wouldn't say that today's run "bites;" I'd say that it was pleasant. YaYa and I actually had a better time than some of the other runs that we have done together. Although I will still have my long run on my list of things to do, I really don't mind. It's a good day.

The bonding continues back at my office, where we are drinking Gatorade and eating Jelly Belly's (only the black for me), and waiting for our RBF meet up.

Posted by Juls at 11:35 AM | Permalink | Comments (8)

On Monday, YaYa had his counseling (intake) appointment at the local hospice. His visit allows him to attend the support groups. YaYa's appointment was different from BoBo and mine. He got to do an art project.

He was given a mask with instructions on how to paint it. Put the emotions that you show the world on the outside and those that you keep private on the inside. YaYa didn't quite understand what she was explaining. He had his own idea. He painted his Dad.

Meanwhile, I sat there watching and wishing that I could paint one of my own. If I did, perhaps I could wear it on those days when I am just not up to the effort of trying to achieve "presentable."

We all wear masks of sorts. I find that it helps me to do my hair and put on make up. A little blush and eye make up brightens up my face and thus brightens up my day. Using the flat iron to flatten out the frizz, as well as the bump that my ponytail holder makes, does wonders on my outlook on life. In a way, it is like the mask that I wear to hide my feelings from myself.

As for the mask that I wear for others, I did a far better job and putting up a positive front in the first couple of months after Tom's death. I don't know who I was trying to convince more, them or myself, that I was okay. Now a days, when it seems that everyone has forgotten that I am grieving (or assumes that I should be over it), I wear my sadness right out in the open.

But it is no use. No matter what mask I wear, the expectations to come to work everyday, work hard to contribute to the corporate goals, and thus earn the right to retain my job remains. I find that I have to bring my laptop home with me to complete the work when it is expected. This is not because I am lagging behind; it is because the timelines are impossible.

Hum? Do you think that they can see through my mask? Perhaps an invisibility cloak would be better.

Posted by Juls at 7:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

It's late at night and I have just gotten out of bed. It's no use; I just lay there waiting for sleep to come.

There is an open bottle of red wine downstairs. I go to it, pour myself a glass, and retreat to the family room.

The family room is the room that Tom and I set up for our little retreat. Equipped with a tall bookcase of our favorite books, the stereo, and the fireplace, the family room was the perfect hangout. It was the room that housed our Christmas Tree, where we entertained guests that came to visit, and where Tom spent his last weeks. It was the room were he took his last breath.

I find a CD of Tom's to keep me company and log on to the computer that now occupies the room. In my email there sits a few more emails waiting from the grief group. My guess is that they are all from someone who also can not sleep.

As I read the messages, I quickly lose interest. They are mostly on the topic of future relationships. I feel all the more alienated from these people than before, wondering how they can consider dating again so soon. I try not to be judgemental but, the truth is, I am.

There is no use in pretending that I don't preconceived ideas about the proper amount of time for things. Some things just need the proper amount of time for healing to take place. Take childbirth for example. I believe that a woman's body needs at least a year to completely heal and restore its equilibrium. So when the mothers in BoBo's play group were pregnant before their babes could walk, I was appalled. But that's just me.

The wine is now kicking in. My head is light and drizzly. I am confident that sleep will come tonight - eventually. In the meantime, you have a post to read that has no point what so ever.

When I do finally sleep I hope that I will see Tom again. I can always hope for that. It makes going to sleep a little easier.

When Tom and I were first dating we used to plan to meet on the astral (in our dreams). Those were the times when he used to read Winnie the Pooh stories to DD (and to me). We would make a date to all meet in the Hundred Acre Woods during the night. In the morning we would wake and compare notes. It was amazing to discover similarities within each of our dreams. I wonder if the dead can visit the astral.

Well, Bob is singing "Froggie Went A-Courtin'" and I sing along. Smiling, I think of how proud Tom was that Bob DD chose to record one of the songs that his Mom had sung to him as a child. I will sip the final bit of my wine, let the song finish, then head off to bed. Good night.

Posted by Juls at 11:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

I feel a little tired right now. It's not the sort of tired that you feel when you haven't gotten enough sleep. This is the good feeling of tired that you get when you've had a good work out. It is good to feel something. It is good to feel anything...

I am at a strange stage of my grieving. I no longer cry on the way to work. I just drive. Throughout my days I watch the world moving past, I observe but don't experience life as before, I feel like I am drowning but am unable to ask for help. I think back to a month or two ago and wonder if experiencing the intense pain was better than this. I suppose it is part of the process.

This morning, I set the alarm 30 minutes earlier so that I could run before work. I haven't been able to break away for a lunch break in many days. It's been wearing on me. When I am running, and "training" for the marathon, I begin to have feeling. It isn't always pleasant, but it is feeling.

I wish that I could say that I did get up and run this morning but I didn't. The alarm went off but I remained in bed. As I've done each day, I threw my running gear into my bag and drove to work pretty certain that I would not be able to any of it.

Today's workout called for more intervals. If I had done my workout this morning, I would have done my intervals on the track instead. I didn't want to wait until I got home; that is too uncertain and I am too spent by the end of my day.

Instead, I had garminia measure out 1 mile for each speed intervals and half-mile recoveries. The target pace was 7:20-7:30/mile. I hoped that I could do better than I did on last week's 800s. I ran easy for 2 miles. This got me past several trucks that were on the same path as me. I hit the "lap" button and picked up the pace. I ran fast and hard. I could feel myself breathing hard, and I pumped my arms vigorously to propel me forward. My ponytail swished side to side as I listened to the crunch-crunch of each footfall. It felt good.

Part way through the interval, I could feel my running slowing. NO! I protested. My breathing became harsh as I continued running into the wind. I tried to continue propelling myself forward with the pumping of my arms. It was no use; I was slowing down.

By the time the interval was complete (7:38) I was beyond tired. I bent over the side of the road, coughed and spewed the accumulated mucus. I nearly threw up, but didn't. As this went on, I stayed aware. I didn't feel good anymore, but I *did* feel alive.

The second interval was better (7:33) as I had the wind at my back. I did my cool down and returned to my office for more of the same only now I am a little more conscious of the world around me.

Posted by Juls at 2:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

I discovered an email-based grief support group late last week. I signed up for a trial account to check it out. In doing so, I have experienced a new awareness of the feelings that are currently sitting below the cloud of numbness. As I had initially thought (about support groups), it is difficult to hear the recounts of other peoples' loss. It was overwhelming at first. Still, I logged in and read the emails often.

As I began to feel torn between "the blogs" and the email group, I found myself comparing the two. In my blogging, I have my virtual friends who have watched me go through the process, who have bonded with me on a virtual level, offered support to me (directly), and who have a common interest in running.

In contrast, the members of the email group have something in common with me, but they have also already bonded to each other. I have posted emails to the group with very little return. As a newbie, I have to establish myself anew; I am not sure if I have the energy for that right now. I feel more like an eavesdropper that a part of the group.

Although there is no connection I still am reading their emails as it offers me a perspective that is missing (aside from the few of you that have survived similar loss and commented to that effect) from the blog. Perhaps I will join permanently, or perhaps the live support groups that begin in September will provide the missing link.

Posted by Juls at 7:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)

I've been tagged for another meme and I have to admit, I don't actually get what I need to do. Regardless, I was one of Runner Susan's select few. My participation in the "Rockin' Girl Blogger" meme will be creative - NOT. If I tag you, it will be up to you to figure out what you want to do. I think it has something to do with the logo.

And the nominees are: Brit, Decaf Momma, Cindy, Dori and Ali

I used to be pretty fun. I used to love to rock out to some fun music. That was in my youth (high school) and before I started listening to Country Music. Those were the days of Pat Benatar, The Doors, and Fleetwood Mac. It was a time when life was easy and the most that I had to worry about was if I could squeeze into my 501 jeans just after they were washed, or if I had a crazy enough shirt (or tie) for the high school rally.

I was a runner back then too. Unlike many of my friends, whose hindquarters were too big for their britches, my issue was that my legs were so muscular that it was hard to get my jeans over them. I remember getting my the lower half of my crop pants caught *above* my calf muscles.

It seems like so long ago. I look at BoBo, as he complains of being bored or not getting to do something; I remember how tough I thought it was when I was his age. Sure, I'd get grounded for this and that, but life was pretty good looking back.

I had many friends. During the summer, we hung out at a neighborhood pool. I'd go there as soon as I finished my chores and could always find someone to hook up with. Whether it was Hide-N-Go-Seek, Ice Blocking, or Broom Ball - we always found fun stuff to occupy us. How could forget the midnight showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show (equipped with hot dogs and rice).

What if I'd known that I'd be here today...widowed with young kids to raise on my own, and worried about making ends meet. Who knew that it was so tough being grown up? I wonder if I had known, if would have appreciated the rockin' good times of my youth more.

Posted by Juls at 6:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

It's been weeks since the note arrived on Tom's truck. Apparently, someone is interested in buying it from us. I hesitated to respond - a little nervous about a disgruntled person coming back to complain should it not perform. I would make no promises, and the deal would be noted "as is," but my apprehension never resolved.

It would be a safer to just donate it, thus avoiding any direct identification to my home. Still, the months have passed since Tom's death and the truck remains parked in our driveway. It wasn't until yesterday that I revisited the notion of letting go of the truck (one way or another).

As I pondered calling the guy who had left the note, considering the documentation that I would want to protect from future issues, a red truck appeared ahead of me. It was the same color and make as Tom's.

My heart leapt. It couldn't be - I *knew* that. But still it felt as if I was following Tom home. I felt excitement and hope running through my body. We both got off the freeway at the same exit, turned in the same direction at the exit and made the same turns. The abrupt driving style was even the same as Tom's.

I sped up to get a closer look. Even after noting that the driver was shorter than Tom (and, of course, I *knew* that it couldn't be him), I continued to follow. While I should have gone straight (past the turn for our house), to pick up YaYa at daycare, I didn't. The truck turned, so I turned - now I could see that the cab of the truck was different from Tom's.

We were nearly home when the truck passed the final turn down our street. With disappointment, I headed to daycare center to pick up YaYa. I was saddened as the little red truck kept on truckin' and felt a fresh dose of loss.

Perhaps I am not ready to part with the truck just yet. Or maybe I am. The bill for the truck's insurance renewal has just arrived. If I could find the pink slip the decision might be a little easier.

Posted by Juls at 7:48 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

"Grief is a personal journey, never the same for any two people, and as unique as your life and your relationships. Although lose is an inevitable part of life, how you approach this fact cam make the difference between meaningless pain and the manifestation of understanding and wisdom."
~ Sameet M. Kumar, PhD in Grieving Mindfully

YaYa stumbled, half-asleep, downstairs to find me making my morning coffee. His face showed the residual fear and sadness of another bad dream. For the remainder of the morning, YaYa was scared to be alone anywhere in the house. I stood by him as he dressed, followed him to the bathroom to pee, and sat by him as he ate. As difficult as it is to get anything accomplished, I felt bad for my little guy and continued to reassure him that I was there for him.

By the time BoBo awoke, I was leaving to take YaYa to daycare. BoBo was already grumpy and annoyed about having to attend a bereavement counseling session with me. We fought the whole morning leading up to the appointment. While I don't want to create a problem where there isn't one, I worry that he isn't grieving but, rather, holding his emotions back.

It is easy to see that YaYa clearly has a need for bereavement support as he wears his emotions on his sleeve and readily discusses them. I have scheduled a bereavement counseling for YaYa and me as a transition to the "Middles" Support Group that begins in September. He has already agreed to attend.

In contrast to YaYa, the evolution of teen-hood makes BoBo's emotions harder to discern the "normal" from troubled. I am sure that BoBo is still upset with me for making him attend counseling with me, but at least now he understands that I am acting out of love rather than that I feel he has a problem.

By the time we were heading home from the counseling session, the tension between us had dissipated. BoBo has agreed to join the family at the Children's Bereavement Camp next Sunday, but remains hesitant about the Teen Support Groups in September. I have left the decision to attend group as BoBo's choice and remain hopeful that the camp will open his eyes to the possibility.

One of Tom and my biggest concerns, when we were first informed of his Cancer and impending death, was the children. What parent wouldn't want to minimize the pain that their children experience?

At a minimum, I wanted BoBo to have a better idea of what options he has available to him. I will not force him to attend any of the support groups, just as I am not forcing him to do football or running, but rather will let him know that support will *always* be available to him should he want to explore any of the options.

Posted by Juls at 11:04 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

In the am, YaYa and I took our time preparing for work and play. We were both tired from staying up late, and in need of a slow-paced morning.

YaYa played with a borrowed toy while I tried to shower myself to life with hot water and soap. It didn't work. My body demanded coffee and more coffee, and I complied.

So, with the lunches packed, we were out the door, 40 minutes later than usual, and in a better mood for the challenges of the day. The morning may have been slow-paced, but the day is certainly NOT.

Posted by Juls at 10:17 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Rumors are circulating of another layoff. I work through another lunch break, thereby delaying my workout until after work. There is no room to believe the rumors right now. There is no time to ease up. There is much work to be done, and timelines to meet.

The bottom line is not what it once seemed. It more than just pay, it is the wonderful people that I work with, the flexibility to go to appointments as needed, and the luxury of not having to travel. The bottom line is my family. Isn't funny that the bottom may be pulled out from under me regardless of how tirelessly I work to achieve the set timelines.

Until then...it's just rumors.

Posted by Juls at 10:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

Coach asked me to run my 800s in 3:30-3:35 each. It was a miss all the way around, but at least I was consistent.

Here is the interval times I achieved:

800m - 3:43
800m - 3:41
800m - 3:48
800m - 3:48

G0d only knows what is behind my inability to hit the target pace and live up to the expectations for today. Perhaps Coach is over estimating my abilities. It is likely that I *am* capable of hitting the target pace with adequate sleep (which I have NOT been getting), and a little fuel in my gas tank.

Not being able to hit the target pace was just another symptom of the sucky few days that I have been having. Regardless, I did my best and I'll try just as hard next time. Nobody said that Boston Qualification was going to be easy. With about three months until race day, I have a lot of hard work to put in.

Posted by Juls at 7:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

I'm caught in another time zone. I was awake past 3 am on my first night back in my own bed. I stared at the light from the streetlight coming through the window. By morning I wasn't too keen on getting up.

I was in my PJs until well into the morning, and finally eating breakfast at near the lunch hour. So it is no surprise that I wasn't able to get out for my long run until around 2 pm. It was hot out - miserably HOT. I was already wishing that I was back in Hawaii.

YaYa was on his bike with a camelbak full of water and Cindy joined us too. We went mile by mile, stopping to get some shade and keep in close contact with YaYa. All I can say is that I did the deed; my miles have been run.

Did I say it was HOT out? It was too hot to run, let alone trot.

Posted by Juls at 11:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

We are home again and will soon be back the the hustle and bustle of our everyday life. This is the final entry of all of the vacation posts. To start at the beginning of the vacation CLICK HERE.

Life high up on the side of the volcano is beautiful, peaceful, and amazing. It can also be isolating. If you take away transportation and Internet access is can be down right lonely. I loved waking up to the wind, birds and goats. It was quiet enough to hear the bees buzzing. That was beautiful and frightening - since I am allergic to bee stings.

I have lived much of my life in the shadows of fear. What if a bee had stung me? I was at least an hour away from a hospital with only an epi-pen that expired in August 2005. What if...?

And yet, if I let myself take a deep breath (in AND out), I could let the unordinary occur. I could let myself live. There is a part of me that knows that I will soon be right back to the same as before with fear lurking around every corner. I am still petrified of raising our two sons without him. I realize that I no longer have Tom to navigate for me when I get too scared; I have to be brave and face my fears. I cannot let my fear paralyze me. I have to use it to make me stronger and smarter.

This vacation has served a purpose other than relaxation and slowing me down (life and my running pace alike). It has reminded me of the precious gift of time. Tom and I have been guilty of letting summer after summer, and year after year, pass by without a bona fide "vacation." We've had camping trips on the weekends but not much more than that. I now see that vacations are important to bond the family.

As I think back to the vacations that my parents gave to my siblings and me, I smile. We went camping, motorcycle riding, water skiing, and fishing. We went to Hawaii. While it wasn't ALL fun and games, it still was a lot fun to see my parents out of the normal routine. What great memories I have of those trips.

My kids deserve the same from me.

Posted by Juls at 11:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

If you have never flown in first class you are unaware of the frivolous pampering that happens in that part of the cabin. I am told that Hawaiian Airlines is better than most at pampering their guests. BoBo, YaYa and I were lucky enough to enjoy this experience. Flying in coach will never be the same again.

I am sitting next to YaYa sipping guava juice in a cute little champagne glasses. I am catching up on the ongoings of the mainland by perusing the headlines in complimentary newspaper that I just received. People are still boarding the plane and we have already been given a menu to choose three items for our meal. This all is prior to pushback.

Speaking of meals, do you know what they serve in first class? Let me tell you that it is *not* the same as the rest of the plane. It is not the soggy turkey sandwich that made YaYa gag (and nearly puke) which we received on the way over to Oahu.

While BoBo enjoyed a break from us (sitting in the row ahead of us), YaYa and I clinked glasses and watched movies on our digEplayers. Sure, some of the meal was a little too fancy for YaYa's taste. Our meals were healthy, yummy AND pretty.

Posted by Juls at 9:00 PM | Permalink

Today was the last full day of our vacation. I am amazed at how fast it went. I was beginning to get into a slower groove. I was beginning to think that I could get used to this kind of life - if I had a car at my disposal to get things like tampons (when my period comes 2 weeks early). Who's to complain. It all works out in the end.

After solving my issue of the day, Janice suggested that I go into Makawao for some flatter running. It's wasn't like home - though I am sure that I would find the longer routes if I lived in Maui.

Janice took me to a concourse of several fields (baseball, soccer, tennis courts, and a horse arena) for me to run laps. One lap was a little more than a mile. Only half of it was up and this "up" was easier. From the highest field I could see the ocean. Down below I enjoyed flat, cushy grass and a cool breeze.

Today felt hotter than the past few days. The field left me exposed to the sun from every part of it. I quickly found my pace wilting away and just let the miles click off at whatever pace I could manage. I will miss Hawaii but I am also looking forward to my good old Californian running routes.

Mike occupied BoBo and YaYa with another action packed day. They started out watching their cousin, Jake at his Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu practice. From there, he took them fishing again. They were able to catch a few fish this time.

Somewhere in all of the activity they had what Mike claims is the "best hotdogs" and some hawaiian ice cream too.

Mike even let them shoot his rifle (which is something that Tom may have shown them but that I would not). I remember shooting guns with my stepdad when I was young. Being allowed to do it sort of takes away the mystery. In the country, it is not a big deal and Uncle Mike did review the safety rules. I pretended not to look while they shot, but I kept them in my view from inside the house.

We ended the evening with another wonderful dinner and a campfire under the clear, star-filled sky. Finally, we said our thank you's and our good-bye's to Mike and Jake as they will still be sleeping when we leave for the airport tomorrow.

It has sure been fun.

Posted by Juls at 11:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

As usual, YaYa and I are the first ones awake. It's another bad hair day. It's the sixth in a row. I especially miss my flat iron on the days when we are out meeting Mike and Janice's friends. Today is another one of those days. Hopefully, they won't remember my bad hair but rather my charm and my well-behaved children. One could hope anyhow.

It's like a strange to miss the luxuries of home while being here in a simple paradise where they shouldn't be missed. I can examine what I "have" and am still aware of what I "have not" brought along. I packed a large suitcase filled with my running gadgets (Garminia, myPod, running shoes, and running clothes). Everything else -- the camera and the various chargers needed to keep all of these things (plus my cell phone) going, a few clothing items and my sandals -- was extra. It seemed like a lot when I packed, but now I am acutely aware of what I didn't bring. *sigh*

Miles above civilization, tourists and lattes is where we are. It's peaceful - at least it is when the boys aren't fighting with each other. We wake to tropical birds singing their songs and the sound of swaying trees. The view is as incredible as it was to me on our first day here.

There is no run scheduled for today, although I sort of wish there was. Tom is heavy on my mind. I think of him often and especially when I am out mingling with Mike and Janice's friends. This is even the case when the question *doesn't* get asked. They don't mean anything by it - how could they know why he isn't with us.

As I sit back and watch Tom's brother Mike move about, I think about how they are different and how they are the same. Just like being here in a paradise and missing some of the luxuries of home, I miss Tom and am still comforted by knowing that we are still able to enjoy life. It's strange, this sort of numbness, but there it is.

Posted by Juls at 8:45 AM | Permalink

The pattern of fun and relaxation continues. Today we joined Mike and Janice's friends for a Hawaiian style picnic on the beach. SPAM mu-su-be was the favorite food of the daytime. Although there isn't much that can be compared to Janice's evening delights. Our taste buds have been on a vacation along with us.

BoBo and YaYa surfed and boogie boarded. The newest fad, apparently, is to stand on the surf board and row out to sea. BoBo did pretty well with this as is the case for most things that he tries. Both boys fished for the first time and YaYa really took to fishing.

I decided to try running on the beach. I made my way along the shoreline and quickly found that rocks were blocking me from continuing on. My feet are not ones to tolerate these tough surfaces. I turned around and ran in the other direction. The beach didn't go very far in this direction either. So....I ran back and forth many, many, many times.

The pace for my beach run was less than impressive. I tried to pick up the pace, but I just couldn't do it. I also had to stop several times for water and to cool off in the ocean.

It sure is tough being on vacation. *giggle*

Back at the house, we helped Mike do a little gardening. This was great because we found another couple of cameleons.

Fireworks and s'mores followed dinner.

Posted by Juls at 9:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

We're taking it easy today, laying low and just doing nothing. Well, almost nothing.

I called the Maui Kaiser to get the results of YaYa's strep culture. Just like in California, you speak to the advice line and then wait for someone to call you back. I was told that they would call within the hour. The day was beginning to heat up already. I watched the temperature rise on the thermometer that Janice keeps on the kitchen countertop.
I wanted to get another run in before it got too hot out.

I left for my run just after I received the return call from the Kaiser nurse. The preliminary results were negative - just as I had expected. It's not strep-throat that he's got; I suspect it is a sinus infection or something of that sort. I am worried about our flight out home.

Last time I ran, I traveled down and then up Olinda Road. Today I ran up the road to the park were the young boy fell. I wondered if I'd see them again. I wondered if she might see me before I saw her...if she'd be angry and run me over with her car. I guess that is paranoid.

Through the man-made forest to dirt trails. Although the hills aren't as steep as they are on the main road, there are plenty of obstacles to slow a runner down. There also isn't much to the park. It is small so the trails are short. But, since running in the shade, and on the soft dirt ,was preferable to the road. I was willing to do laps around the only two available trails. It was worth it.

After I returned from my run, I placed a call to my California-based pediatrician. I left the message with Anna, explaining the situation. Since I was lucky enough to have talked the Maui physician into giving us antibiotics to have on hand should the results be positive, all I had to do was get permission to mix and start them.

Our pediatrician called me back about 30 minutes later. We discussed the fact that YaYa was already coughing some prior to going off to camp and was now coughing a lot, not eating the wonderful meals that Janice was cooking, and was cranky. He agreed that I should start the antibiotics immediately.

Posted by Juls at 1:00 PM | Permalink

The boys and I had to wing it for the first time today. Mike and Janice were away at work all day. Lucky for us, they left us the keys to Jake's SUV. With maps in hand, I quickly learned to operate the strange vehicle and navigate the hills. We didn't get too lost. In fact getting lost was a blessing as it allowed me to get my only latte of the week.

I gave into the request to visit the mall. My primary reason for caving into BoBo's request was due to the fact that the only suit that I packed was one that never fit quite right. I had my own shopping plans and I didn't want to pay the tourist shop rates.

There would be no run today compliments of my total body workout from yoga. We bought a few things before taking in the movie Ratatouille. Then we found the beach for about an hour of fun in the waves.

On the way home, YaYa laid down on the seat. Was he car sick? I wondered. Then a couple of hours later he complained of a stomach ache, headache and "funny breathing." His temperature was 103.2 degrees about 30 minutes after taking some advil. So Janice and I skipped dinner and drove him down the hill to the after hours clinic.

Posted by Juls at 11:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

It's nine hours after attending an Ashtanga Yoga class. My body is finally recovering enough to finish writing about it. This was no ordinary yoga - at least not like any yoga class that I have ever taken. At the home of a small and very fit Japanese women 12 of us met. I'd survived the winding roads and was shaking off the touch of motion sickness as the crowd chatting in both English and Japanese.

The room then got quiet and class began. As palm trees swayed and birds sang outside, we began with cleansing breaths. Within a short period of time I was dripping in sweat. For 90 minutes I was challanged by the balancing, stretching, and strengthening routines. I couldn't do all of the moves but was able to do most of them. By the end of class I was feeling a little lightheaded and my clothes were soaked with sweat.

Back to the car to add insult to injury. I got horribly nauseous on the way back up the hill. By the time we were back, I threw up a small amount of bile and hit the bed for a nap. My neck was growing sore by the minute.

Meanwhile, Mike was out spoiling his nephews. They went to the aquarium, went rock climbing and minature golfing. They also cooled off at the waterpark.

Posted by Juls at 7:00 PM | Permalink