Well the time has come to make the final preparations for Chicago. I've trained hard and long. One week from Sunday I will toe the line (with 45,000 others) and run my race.

Things begin to gather in a basket on my floor as I begin to consider what I will need for race day. There is the obvious: shoes, socks, run skirt/tights, short/long sleeved shirt, hat, jogbra, and timing chip. It's the less obvious stuff that I am worried about. Somewhere on my computer is my packing list...

For me, the "things" are only half of it. I do believe that having a race plan is essential. I'm a bit out of practice, not having run a marathon since last June, but I'll give it a go.

My training for this race has been far different from any other that I've done before. I've been in training since January, with a hiatus when the family was hit with tragedy. Coach has had me running long for quite some time, doing 20-ish mile runs many times over. The speedwork has been hard but I have risen to the challenge. I've done the work, now it is time to reap the rewards.

The Plan need not be elaborate. I plan to arrive in Chicago rested and ready to reunite with Tom's family. I'll get my race packet, take in a few sights, and meet up with my fellow runners on race morning.

I plan to go with the flow in the early miles (not too fast but not so slow that I can't pull out if with ease). This will allow me to warm up. Then it will be time to put this training into action. Coach will have given me the planned strategy. I will follow it for a successful qualification for Boston.

Along the way, I'll see my boys - DD, BoBo & YaYa will be out cheering for me along the course and at the finish line. In the end, I will be tired but energized by finally having hit my goal. I will have time to celebrate with the family prior to hitting the airport for a smooth ride home.

Posted by Juls at 8:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

Today feels strange. My mind is numb. Although some tears have been shed, I think the floodgates have yet to open. I've been lucky to work with some great people. They are kind and caring and have given so much to me in the way of support this past year.

I had wanted to give something back. I envisioned baking some cookies or banana bread for them, but the time to make it happen never manifested. While I did not make the time, they DID. I received a going away breakfast and some awesome gifts.

Afterwards, I made my way to do the various exit procedures. It was a serious of meetings where I felt scattered and broken. *sigh* What was I expecting?

Parting is such sweet sorrow.

Talk about an exhausting day. Shortly after returning home from the gym, I found myself lying in the floor. YaYa was doing his spelling test so I gave up my chair in the office. The carpeted floor looked ever so inviting. It was as comfortable as I needed it to be in order to take an hour long nap.

I am wiped out, but there is still so much to do. The FedEx truck left me some paperwork from my new employer. There are several forms that are due tomorrow. It looks like I am on my way down the new path already.

Posted by Juls at 10:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (12)

I was a little excited when I saw the pastels and paper sitting on the table. It seems like the kids get all of the art therapy and the grown ups just talk. But today was different.

We did the usual talking. We shared more heart wrenching details of the deaths of our loved ones. It's horrifying to hear the cruel destruction of normal lives. But it is what it is, and nothing more.

I wasn't ready to express my feelings on paper by the time the pastels and paper were in front of me. I searched for an image and saw only a small swirl of anger down deep within my heart. I've always known it is there, right where I keep it buried, but I generally try to ignore it. To draw it was like picking at a scab to watch the wound bleed.

The group finished drawing our emotions. Then we discussed the self-portraits and how we felt during the process. The kleenex box began changing hands as we shared. I was tear free when I described my drawing but shortly after I mentioned that I'd felt distant and removed from the emotions that I had drawn, that feeling changed. What was previously down deep was rising to the surface in the form of pain.

The group ended and we were let out into the world to fend for ourselves and our children for another week.

Posted by Juls at 10:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Picture this, I'm running around, trying to get dressed and be sure that the boys are doing the same. We have 1 hour to get ready, eat and get out the door. It should be enough, but on Wednesday's the cleaners come while we are away. It's a luxury that I don't want to give up. I also don't want them to raise the price because they can't do their job due to excess clutter.

Well this morning, as is typical for most mornings, BoBo's room has shoes and clothing strewn about the floor. I'd asked him to pick up his room last night and had already picked up the things that he'd left all around the common areas. Naturally, I ask him to pick up his room. He blew a fuse and, in response, I did the same. Just like that our morning is heading in the wrong direction.

And the whole day seemed to be heading down the same path (the wrong one) as BoBo left the van in a funk, and I drove off to work sad that we ended it this way. Sorry's just don't cut it sometimes.

Anne has her Wordless Wednesday posts. This morning, I thought that I should start a new tradition of Wordless Wednesday Mornings.

Posted by Juls at 1:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

All around the office the artwork is coming down from the walls. They will soon be sold off in a silent auction. At the same time, the hallways are being lined with moving boxes and overflowing recycle bins. The end of the company that we knew and loved is evolving. While company prepares for the shut down, the resignation letters are rolling in. Mine was one of them.

It will take me longer to pack for my trip, to run the Chicago Marathon, than to pack up my office. I've gone to two different REIs this weekend to find new insoles for my new shoes. I picked up my GU packets, and some cytomax. I also had to replace my GPS as Garminia (the 1st) got a bit waterlogged in the rain on Saturday. Slowly, but surely, things are coming together for the trip.

As for my exit from my current employer, I got an email regarding my exit interview within 30 minutes of sending my resignation. I guess they are ready for me to go. I've got such mixed feelings. I am sad to leave the great group that we have, but excited to move on to a wonderful opportunity.

Today, I took my last box of belongs down to my van. All that is left in my office is my bamboo plant and a photograph of the boys and I after Tom's memorial.

The future is nearing and I am a little scared. I know that it is natural to feel this way. More drastic changes in my unsettled life. I've been making preparations as best I can.

I know that I could hold onto the past, but the future gives me hope for something better. So, I'm packing my things while wishing for the best.

Posted by Juls at 4:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

Coming off of a 14 mile run wasn't the best pre-race workout. Friday just got too busy to go long, so I put it off until Saturday. Well, it rained on my parade but I made the best of it. Why? Because on Sunday, YaYa and I had a race planned!

It was 1 year ago when YaYa kicked off his racing career with this very race. I was only a little hesitant to sign him up again. He hadn't actually trained for the 2 mile race, but who thinks about these details anyway? Oh yeah, I do.

Well, anyway, it didn't matter much. He took 2nd place in his age group. Woo hoo! That's my boy.

As for my race, I'd planned to use it as a BETA testing experiment. To be precise, I wanted to test how well my body would do, in a race environment, while on the BETA blocker.

I warmed up briefly and then lined up. But I didn't stay warmed up for very long; my heartrate came down to the 60s by the time the race started. I watched Cindy run on ahead as my heartrate reached 120. During the race, I only looked ahead (to see Cindy getting away), and NOT at my heartrate.

Instead of checking my heartrate, I listened to my body. Much to my surprise, my body was plugging along. It was happy and that allowed me to encourage every runner I passed. "Looking good," I said to one runner. "Come on; you can do it," I told another runner. She started running again shortly after I passed.

It was strange; it felt like my legs were moving slowly and that I couldn't make them go any faster, but then I could carry on conversations with ease. And even though I got my butt kicked by an 8 year old, my finish time was amazing.

But...the excitement only lasted a few minutes before I realized that the race volunteers must have signaled the turn early. Garminia reported that we'd only run 5.86 miles, NOT 6.2 miles. So, I took my 8:19/mile pace and figured out what it would have been had I continued at that pace for the entire 10K. My estimated 51:40 would have been a personal record (PR).

Well, I took credit for it anyway, and I'm going to keep it logged that way until after the marathon. I think that makes the BETA test a success.

Posted by Juls at 6:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

My emotional volcano is about to erupt. I can feel the pressure building. Bits of lava stream down the sides (of my cheeks) from time to time. I am trying to hold off the explosion but, as the 21st nears, I can feel the inevitable.

Wednesday's support group session was good. I started out saying that my main agenda item was to ensure that the kids' issues were taken care of. As the session continued, I think that it was evident that I had much of my own baggage to deal with.

Six months has passed and still there is so much sadness and guilt remaining within me. There is anger too. It's the anger that I am most afraid of. But it seeps out no matter how much I try to hold it back.

This morning, for example, I yelled at the insurance claims adjuster after I gave my statement of a car accident that I got had on the way to my support group. I should have called her back yesterday; I would have been nicer to her. Instead I sensed a tone of judgement in her voice when she went through the "statutes" of why I was at fault. I probably was, but I didn't want to hear about "statutes." I let her have it, telling her that her job was to be neutral and just take down the information. Just moments after getting off of the call, and realizing how out of hand I was, I wasn't sure if the tone was really there or if I just heard it because I was having a bad morning. But , that's not all.

I need only smell the smoke of a lit cigarette and I feel the range of anger building within me, like a volcano about to erupt. Tom quit smoking 15 years ago. Did it help? Apparently not. It was lung cancer that killed him. I guess I never actually said what he died of. It was lung cancer that spread to his brain, and shoulder, and shins, and knees, and hips, and who knows where else. Now, when I see old men and women, who have obviously smoked from their teens well into retirement, and who are still kicking (and smoking) - I can't help but be angry. It's not fair! Why Tom?, I ask. Why not them?

I am also still angry at the doctor who told us that Tom would live for another year. He gave us hope when I was thinking that we had about 4-6 months. We were somewhat relieved to have more time that we expected. We told the kids, through tears, that we had a whole year to be together. We looked forward to creating some happy memories. Then he died (two weeks later). I feel robbed. Yes, we were robbed of sharing the joys of watching the kids create successes, and from growing old together. But we were also robbed of the truth and being able to prepare the kids adequately. And prepare ourselves too.

What's more...I feel guilty for wishing that he would die already when I couldn't bear to watch him suffer anymore. Can you believe that? I wanted to not feel like I was dying too. Sometimes, I still feel that way. I know that a part of me died with him that day. Now, 6 months later, all I want is to feel alive again.

Posted by Juls at 6:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (19)

Garminia perched on the front of the treadmill. She watched my feet turn over and over as the belt moved along. I was just getting warmed up. Garminia has not used her alarmist modes on me in a while. I am overly sensitive to that these days. Instead, she sat quietly displaying my heartrate for me to see.

Initially, my heartrate was in the 120s. It stayed at that rate despite my body's response of "ugh." I was still just getting warmed up as the first mile passed. Apparently, it was going to take me a while.

At around mile 3, I noticed that the "ugh" feeling was gone. Now, I was just bored and that was okay.

I ran for nearly 9 miles, but should have ran at least 10 miles. I figured that my colleagues might notice if I took a 2-hour lunch...especially if I was also leaving early for grief support.

Posted by Juls at 5:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

I sat in the hospice waiting room while YaYa finished up his homework. I had already cooked and eaten dinner. The dishes were cleared and put in the dishwasher already. It was only 6:30 pm.

The original plan was for me to do the weekly grocery store shopping while BoBo was in his grief support group, but YaYa was operating at the different pace than me. We sat in the waiting room for the entire hour and a half - YaYa doing his homework as I tried to pick up Harry Potter again. And every time I started to really get into the story, YaYa would hit a moment of confusion. So, I put down the book and helped YaYa get back on track.

As I sat there, I thought about my recent evenings. I’m busy, but there isn’t a whole lot happening. One can look at it a couple of ways. Either I am a loser with nothing to do and no where to go, or I am one lucky lady to be able to spend uninterrupted time with my children. Personally, I like the latter.

Posted by Juls at 9:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

After a fatiguing 17 mile run, I returned home. BoBo had been sitting YaYa AND the two boys down the street had come by as well. The house showed signs of good times being had by all.

I entered the home and made a b-line to the bathroom. My gastrointestinal tract had waited to complain about the long run, but now my visit to the bathroom was urgent. I made my way to the kitchen next where 4 empty packages of Go-Gurt's lay on the counter. In the living room was the box of Cheese-It's. I grabbed the box, along with a cold bottle Accelerade, and made for the shower.

The stairs felt steeper than usual. My legs complained with each step. I took a deep breath and powered up them to find the light left on in YaYa's room. I found two large boxes of toys open in the center of the room, and toys strewn about. *sigh* I turned off the light and went into my room.

My room was not much better. The bed, which I made this morning, was a mess. The pillows were on the floor beside three pairs of little shoes. Humm? The smell of little monkeys jumping on my bed was still in the air. Although BoBo's shoes were not in the room, I suspect that he had a huge part in the fun as well.

The fact that I didn't get any calls complaining about the brother's fighting was great. If the disastrous mess throughout the house is the price I pay (along with a small fee to my money hungry teen) then so be it. That in itself makes today's run a success.

As for the run, well, I survived it. In the early miles, it actually felt okay. I resisted the urge to check my heartrate and just ran. But as the miles wore on, my legs felt more and more fatigued.

When I came upon a man walking at mile 13, I began walking. We traveled a mile together where I learned that he will be walking his first marathon in Dublin. He was well into his 60s and looking healthy.

My legs did not want to resume running after walking for a mile. I did my best to continue on. It was slow and steady. I am glad that it is behind me. I'll rest a bit and then try to get my house put back together.

Posted by Juls at 2:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

My body is trying to roll with the punches, go with the flow, adjust and recover from my late night of watching our local football team get creamated and then wait until 11 pm for the train to take us home. It's 10:40 am and my body is still waking up.

I haven't been eager to get out for today's run. Yesterday's run (8 miles) felt awful. I hoping that my body will do better with the lower heartrate (that's how the BETA blockers lower blood pressure).

I'm now dressed in my running apparal. My cytomax is mixed up. Now, I just have to generate a little more enthusiasm and courage to get out there.

Please send me good vibes for a safe run. Technically, I'm already tapering. It's only 18 miles. Yippee!

Posted by Juls at 10:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Here's the deal. I've noticed a tight feeling in my throat for a couple weeks now. I couldn't actually pinpoint when it started; it's been more intense on some days. But recently, the feeling has been more intense, more consistent. I've been trying to figure out the cause but it was a guessing game until now.

I woke up and noticed that my throat felt normal. It was clearly different from what I've been feeling. When the kids were taking their medications, I began to wonder if my ACE inhibitorcould be the cause. I wondered and then dismissed the idea because I've been on this medicaiton for a while. Sure, I've gone up on the dose recently, but the timing of the increased dose did not coincide with the throat issue. I took my pill, along with my allergy pill. Soon after, we were out the door.

It was about 30 minutes later that I noticed the urge to have something hot to drink. I had not made my latte at home so I would have to pay for a latte if I stopped. I didn't care. By the time I had my drink in hand I was well into my throat clearing habit. By the time I hit the freeway, I was coughing. It was pretty obvious - the ACE inhibitor is not agreeing with me.

All day I wondered why the symptoms would start now. I tried to convince myself that going outside started up my seasonal allergies. But, even indoors, the feeling continued. By lunch, I felt miserable enough to skip my run. Then I had a realization.

Before now, I wasn't aware of the tightening in my throat because, until I missed a dose over the weekend, I used to take my medication as night. A-ha!

It is basic - the ABC's start with "A." Airway - Breathing - Circulation. Without securing an open airway, none of the subsequent steps can occur.

The only running that I did was running to the pharmacy to pick up a different type of blood pressure medication. I hope that my body will adjust to this one okay and that I'll be breathing easy once more.

Posted by Juls at 5:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

I was catching my breath between intervals when a ghost from my past drove up on his bicycle. The last time we’d encountered each other on the trail I hadn’t recognized him – even after he told me his name. I remain embarrassed, after all of these years past, that I did not know the boy that I spent most of my high school years dating.

I was stretching after completing the first of three 2-mile intervals. I did a self-check to assess if it was safe to venture further from my van, as I’ve been feeling under the weather since yesterday. I confirmed that I was not feeling dizzy, and the tightness in my throat had eased up. I felt a bit vulnerable having forgotten to grab my cell phone but, seriously, who would I call if I got into trouble. It’s not like my husband could leave heaven to rescue me.

The fact was, I was feeling okay at the moment. I was, in fact, elated at my having nailed the interval pace perfectly. I was tired, but encouraged as well. It wasn’t that long ago when I felt that I’d never be able to hit the paces that Coach was asking of me.

In a matter of minutes, my old friend and I caught up on our lives (children, employment status, and my grieving). When he told me that I appeared to being doing okay, I mentioned that my running kept me sane. His commenting that my running had always fulfilled that need was a big “hello” for me ~ he’d managed to recognize me even though I had failed to know him.

Before long, we were both back on the trail. He rode on ahead, and I did my best to keep my required pace even after cooling down.

It was up to me to gauge my progress as Garminia has a habit of missing the mark on her mile measurements, thus pace, on the trail that I was at. I did my best to push hard enough to hit the target pace but not so hard that I would die off before the 2 miles was traveled.

I was pleased with the outcome. Not only did I hit the pace on the second 2-mile interval, but I surpassed it on the final one. Then I drove home, showered, logged my workout, and returned to bed. I was not feeling so good anymore.

After a three-hour nap, I was finally over the hump. I crawled out of bed to attend my first grief support group. I had an idea of what to expect; we’d go through the introductions (our name, who we’d loss, the how and when of the death, and whatever else we want to say). I did not, however, anticipate that the parents of grieving children group would be mixed with our grieving children.

The intention of easing the kids into, or back into, the group environment was a bit overwhelming for the parent, however. A very LOUD game of emotional twister, where each color represents a feeling, increased feelings of how overwhelming single parenthood can be. I resisted the urge to walk out.

When we were on the brink of self-explosion, a timid “facilitator” rescued us from the chaos. I wasn't sure about her at first but, as things progressed, I relaxed a little. She had us go through our introductions. It was over way before any of us where ready though. There was so much more to be said, and so much more discussion to be had. Hopefully, we'll be able to get farther along in the process next time.

Posted by Juls at 6:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

The workshop titled "Empowering Yourself to Create New Possibilities" was a little strange. I little too touchy-feely for me. The most difficult part about it, though, was the constant references to "morning the loss" - of OUR JOBS. I did get something out of it though...

The gun has sounded and we are all off and running. We are, in a sense, moving in the same direction yet we all have different goals.

There are some that will run with only the goal to finish the race. They take their time and take in every aspect of the journey. Their journey is no more, or less, than that of the others who run the course.

Others have a different goal in mind. They do not slow to take in the crowd, let alone to refuel. They are literally on the run at all times. They reach down deep to find the power that will fuel them along the way.

No matter what approach is taken, it is the people that make the journey meaningful. Those who run beside you, whom you pass, or who pass you along the way add to the experience. We pull each other along with acknowledgement of the struggle to get to our destination.

Of course it wouldn't be the same without those who stand on the sidelines for hours on end. The signs that say "Go Mom," whether intended for you or not, speak volumes of encouragement. The kids, who stretch out their hand, give you encouragement and five more reasons to continue forward on your journey.

Do not give up. The race is worth running, and the finish line is so rewarding. All the aches and pains along the way are the evidence of your character, and when you choose to take your next step you will be empowered to create whatever you desire.

Posted by Juls at 11:18 AM | Permalink | Comments (6)

It's Saturday, aka "rest day." For me, it means a day when I don't have to get out of bed. So it took me quite a while to do just that. I went about my blah day, feeling blah and resisting doing anything productive.

While I accomplish nothing useful, I demand that my children pick up their shoes and the clothes that they have peeled off downstairs. That is the thing with boys on hot days, they undress anywhere and leave their clothing everywhere.

I insist that they pick up their clothes "NOW" and take them up to their rooms. Then I take my coffee into my room where piles of my clean clothes sit on the chair and in the laundry basket awaiting my attention. I hear my voice saying "NOW," to which I respond, "What-EVER."

I have a packet of papers that need completing, well, NOW. My resume needs further tweaks, and I need to get my the boys dirty clothes washed, folded, and up to their rooms. But I just don't feel like it.

When September hit, I wondered why it was hard from the start. I've been acutely aware that it marks the 6 month mark of Tom's passing. It's more than that though.

September is also the month that my Step-Dad died (2 years ago). When he died I felt like a hole had been burnt through my heart. He'd fought a war against Cancer and he had won.... but the heart attack took him anyway. I felt robbed. No one got the chance to even say goodbye.

I was able to get past the pain of Papa dying with a lot of help from Tom. He held me and let my cry my heart out. He understood. Now that I've lost him too, there is no one here to hold me. Instead, I am the one that has to hold on.

I am holding onto the precious memories, holding our dear children and praying that I do right be them, holding my breath, and holding onto hope that it will all be okay – someday soon.

At night, I hold YaYa's teddy bear so that I can sleep. When morning rolls around, I be hold up my head and pretend that everything is okay. Before long, I'll even be able to convince myself.

Thankfully, our grief support groups start next week.

Posted by Juls at 5:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

From the very first step, I knew that today's run would be challenging. I do like challenges, but there was nothing likable about this run.

At least I had myPod along for entertainment. She sang in my ears and tried to distract me. Although I was enjoying the songs, I remained acutely aware of how hard it was to get going.

Garminia told it how was - my pace was not up to "easy." I was running at long run pace. It felt like I'd run several miles already when I'd only traveled a couple. My legs felt heavy but the appeared to be fine.

God only knows what was going on.

With 4 weeks until race day, I want the rest of my training to fall into place. I'll be saying my prayers that I remain healthy in these coming weeks. And for luck, I stopped along the run to pick up a penny.

Posted by Juls at 5:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

On Wednesday, YaYa came home with his "application" for employment. Even 9 years olds are valuable contributors to the work force these days.

I have to say that I was envious of the simplicity of his application. Name and position desired were all that was asked. No interview needed; simply complete the form and show up for the meeting was all that was required.

When I picked him up, he announced his new title of "Conflict Manager." Wow! As I spend my days trying to wrap my head around career based achievements, and endure hours on end of extensive questioning, my son lands a job just like that. A "management" position at that. Goodness. Last year, "Lunch Monitor" and this year "Conflict Manager." I wonder what he will be doing next year.

Just in case he encounters more than the two-question "application," we began developing YaYa's resume. You don't want to be under-prepared, you know.

Posted by Juls at 9:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

When Tom was laid off, several years ago, 110% of his time was invested in his job search. Workshops, PMP Certification, networking, and applying for the various jobs took over his every minute. I'm not exaggerating. He hardly made time to sleep. I'd come downstairs at 1 am to find him searching his mind for the right word to make his cover letter stand out from the rest.

I didn't understand the pressure he was under. I couldn't understand how, or why, his marathon training for Big Sur could get so derailed. It was derailed - Badly! We'd trained together for months but, on race day, he did not start.

From the outside, I saw that he had even more time to dedicate to his marathon training. I figured that he could get it done far easier than when he was working. But I was wrong. His need to be in the work force, and the lack of available jobs in silicon valley was a sad reality. He kept it up for 18 months before he finally landed the job that allowed his career to take off again.

Now, from the position of being the sole provider for the family, my need to remain in the work force is critical. I find myself becoming absorbed in workshops on resume building, interviewing strategies, and other classes to perfect my ability to land a new job. It doesn't end there.

As I try to balance it all with work, my marathon training has been forced to shift - again. My juggling skills were called into action again, this week, as I tried to do it all. My responsibilities took precidence, as they should: shopping, preparing dinner, homework kick-starting, and FINALLY my run.

The run from my house to the local high school track served as a easy (1 mile) warm up. I hit the track and immediately began my first of five 1-mile intervals. It would be a race against the sun and the sky was already getting dim.

Garminia crapped out on me after about two laps. I watched the time and adapted to not being able to see the pace reading on Garminia's face. I was within *my* range (which was only 10 seconds longer than Coach's).

A lean, male runner got right on my heels during my second 1-mile interval. I am sure he overheard me talking to myself. I was whispering sweet nothings to myself to the effect of: "Keep it up," "Don't give up," and "Just this lap. You are only running *this* lap right now." He resisted the urge to pass me, running right beside me for over two laps, and all the way to the line. When I finished, he said, "nice job" and was off at his own pace.

He disappeared somewhere between my forth and fifth interval. In fact, all of the faces at the track had changed by the time I left. I jogged home, happy to have completed the workout before darkness hit, and ready to begin revamping my resume.

I am happy to give 110%...but I won't give all of it to my job search. At least not until the marathon has been run.

Posted by Juls at 11:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

After a second day of our house shutting down at 9 pm, I am *finally* feeling like I've had an adequate night's sleep. I woke up an hour before the alarm and got out of bed without being dragged out.

Rest is a good thing; Coach has another tough speed workout in store for me today. I can use every bit of good on my side to get it done successfully.

Posted by Juls at 5:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Mr. Heartache paid me another visit. His visit was early this month. Rather than the routine 21st of each month, this visit took me by surprise. I didn't need to see him, to know that he'd arrived.

I remained in my bed far longer than needed on Saturday morning. I kept my eyes closed trying to block out the day. My worries had worked their way into my dreams, and my dreams remained in my mind as the sun lit up the sky.

Unlike other Saturdays, this week it was easy to stay in bed. A Friday night football game kept the whole family out late. Since I needed to pick BoBo up, then YaYa had to go too. Nobody got to bed until well after 10:30 pm, so the family slept in.

We awoke with barely enought time to buy a present for the birthday boy down the street. I wrapped the present and sent the boys down the street without me. Then I sat in my lovely home, looked around it, and felt the emptiness take over.

Thirty minutes later, I picked my heart up off of the floor, washed the tears off of my face, and joined the boys at the neighbor's house where the party was going full force. I left Mr. Heartache there and secretly hoped that he would be gone when I returned.

Well those neighbors of ours can really throw a party. We were out partying until about 10 pm. I was able to push off my sadness and mingle with the crowd for a bit. When I came home, however, Mr. Heartache was still waiting.

Now Sunday morning is aready here and Mr. Heartache doesn't seem to want to leave. I told him that I had to go running but he didn't seem to care. He held me hostage as the cooler hours slipped away. I really don't like to run in the heat of day, but he was leaving me no choice.

After a couple cups of coffee, I gathered enough courage to show him the door. Then I made the kids some French Toast for breakfast and left for a run.

I am glad that Mr. Heartache is gone, but somehow I don't think that it is the last that I'll see of him.

Posted by Juls at 7:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)