The Color Run

Oh boy! Yesterday, I took part in one of the coolest new races sweeping the nation! The Color Run. It is the self-professed "Happiest 5k on the Planet!" And, it definitely lives up to its name! The Color Run happens all over the nation, in all different cities. It is a crazy, colorful and chaotic 5k where at every kilometer, you are doused in color (of the organic, non-toxic, edible kind). At the finish line, you look like Rainbow Brite, the Care Bear!

The most exciting thing about this particular race was, that I was doing it with my 11-year old daughter. Her very first 5k. And, she is not particularly fond of running. (See my previous blog, "give anything but up"!) I figured if there was ever a 5k that would get her excited about running - this was it!

We drove to the race early Saturday morning. I wanted to get there plenty early, because we had to pick up our packets and I wasn't sure how many people we would be dealing with. Wow! My first sign that this was not just another small, local footrace was the long line of cars at the exit on the freeway! It was hundreds of cars long and was moving at a snail's pace. Once we got to the event site, we were greeted my miles and miles of more cars, barricades, police directing traffic. I chuckled and whispered to myself, "we are not in Kansas anymore!" I started to worry as I looked at the clock and looked at the long line of people who were in line to pick up their packets. There was no way that we were all going to get our packets and take off from the starting line within the alloted time frame.

Well, the check-in line moved surprisingly fast. Once we got up to the front, another sign that this was not your usual race - our bib numbers were 12, 992 and 12.993. Then, an announcement over the loudspeaker said, "We have over 15,000 runners signed up for today's race...so, please make your way to the start line if you have already checked in." My heart did a somersault! The thought of 15,000 people taking off at the same time sent chills through my body. I was suddenly fearing for our lives.

After getting our packet, complete with our very own color packet to throw in the air at the finish, we found our way to the shortest port-a-potty line we could find. As I was standing in line, I overheard someone say that because there were so many people, they were going to start the run in waves. I looked down at my bib and realized there was no timing chip. I asked a guy next to me if the race was going to be timed. He sort of laughed and said, "No, there are way too many people to time it." Suddenly, my heart landed in place and stopped turning circles in my chest. A 5k that didn't clock your time? But, we had (sorta) trained for this. I had even set a personal goal for my daughter. Now, you are telling me that we can just have fun? We don't have to worry if we want to stop and walk or take photos? Wow. I sure wish someone had told me that earlier - it would have saved me a lot of unnecessary worry. All of a sudden, I wasn't scared anymore. I knew this was going to be a fun, memorable day for my girl. It was now all about HAVING a good time instead of GETTING a good time. I could suddenly breathe, relax and enjoy the ride.

all clean and ready to go!

So, we made our way over to the start line. Somehow, we ended up finding our friends (another mom/daughter duo) amongst the mass of people. And, we took off.

It was great! We ran, we talked, we walked, we stopped for water, took pictures, we got covered in color at each K - Blue, Orange, Yellow, Green and Pink.

At one point, I got too far ahead and lost my daughter in the sea of people and color. So, I stopped, ran backwards and waited until I found her, letting thousands of folks pass me by (something I wouldn't have done, had the race been timed!) I finally saw her round the corner, her tutu and pony tail bobbing up and down. I was so relieved! We ran to the finish line, hand in hand (I wasn't going to take a chance losing her again!). Our first, of many mother/daughter runs, I hope!

  

 

"It's not about GETTING a good time. It's about HAVING a good time."

the hardest thing

If there was ever a weekend that I wanted to go slow, it was last weekend. I moved my oldest child into the dorms a week ago today. We had a whole weekend of FUN planned and Sunday seemed like a world away. Thank God.

As we moved him in. I was loving the time with him as we unpacked boxes and hung up his shirts. The simplest of things seemed to fill me with such joy. My daughter and I helped make his bed. My husband helped him hook up his TV. We ate yummy cookies that his roommates' mom had left in the mini fridge. Fellow dormmates stopped by and introduced themselves. It was just so surreal that my boy was actually moving into the dorms. Across the way from my old dorm!

Friday came and some of us parents went on a "Wine Tour". What a great idea! Fill the parents up with wine so, the kids can enjoy a day all to themselves! We toured three different area wineries. We drank. We ate. We laughed. We talked about how much we were dreading saying good-bye. Again, I was so thankful that I wasn't heading home until Sunday. (One of my friends was heading home that evening and my heart just broke for her.) I was so happy I wasn't.

Saturday rolled around and my husband and I got up early and went for a run. There was a home football game that night. There were tailgate parties to attend. There was family to visit. It was a gorgeous fall day - and I was so happy that I had another 24 hours before I had to say good-bye. As I moved around that day, I felt a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. No amount of food or wine could fill the emptiness I felt. I had an underlying sense of dread and just felt sick to my stomach.

I had a wonderful night with family. Got to bed early. Went for another run the next day. And, then, it was as if I was awaiting the guiliotine - I knew the time had come for me to say good-bye. I headed off to Rite Aid, Safeway, Walgreen's to pick up some things my son had requested. I wanted to make sure I left him with lots of snacks and necessities for his dorm room. Again, I had a pit in the bottom of my stomach that just wouldn't go away.

We pulled up to his dorm. My son greeted us in the circular drive, already looking so much more independent and grown-up than he had when we first arrived just two days earlier. We unpacked groceries and went up to his room. We hung out and made small talk with he and his roommate for a few minutes. And then, I knew. I knew it was time to go. Time to let him finally be on his own. He'd waited 18 years for this and I owed him that much - to let him get on with it. Get out of his way.

He walked us down to the car. I gave him a hug. I heard him whisper in my ear, "Don't cry, mama". Of course, all I wanted to do was cry but, I tried not to. I didn't want his last memory of me to be a blubbering idiot! So, I held it together and held on for dear life. I didn't want to let go. I knew that as soon as I did, he would be walking into his new life and I would be going back to my old life...without him. It was the worst feeling I have felt yet as a parent. I felt like I was leaving a piece of me behind. I was leaving my boy in a city, two hours from home. I felt sooo sad.

Luckily, I had my 11 year old daughter with me. She hates it when I cry. So, I knew I had to keep it together for her sake. We pulled away and I sniffled and hid tears beneath my sunglasses. She asked if I was crying. I said, "No, it's just my allergies."

As we pulled out of town, I passed a cemetary. There was a crowd of people standing around a gravesite. A preacher was standing before them. At that moment, it hit me that I had no right to be sad. This was not a sad occasion, but a joyful, exciting new adventure in his life. It was almost as if God was whispering to me that I needed to snap out it and embrace this journey. Suddenly, I felt a sense of peace throughout my entire body and for the first time in days, my stomach didn't ache.

Now, I'm not saying that I haven't cried a few times since then. Once I got home and had some time to myself, I cried. I had all this emotion balled up inside of me that needed to come out. It felt good to release it. Later that night at church, I cried again. It just felt so strange to be at church with just the 3 of us in the pew. I missed my boy. I missed hearing him sing. I missed holding his hand during the "Our Father."

His old jeep still sits parked in front of our house. I swear, sometimes I will pull up after work and my heart skips a beat ... and then, I remember he is not home. I will go upstairs and pass his room and it looks so sterile and cold. Or I will be lying in bed at night, expecting him to walk in the door at any moment and say "I'm home." But, it doesn't happen.

I know this is a good thing. (For heaven's sake, it's not like he is dead.) And, I know that kids moving out and moving on is what you hope for as a parent. That is what we train them their whole lives to do. But, the reality of it, is that it is hard and it hurts to see them leave. This is by far the hardest thing I've ever done. And, yet I know it is a necessary and pivotal moment in both of our lives. I know he couldn't be happier. Sometimes, being a mom is tough, but I wouldn't trade it for the world.

And, I can't wait 'til Thanksgiving Break.

give anything but up

My daughter started middle school last week. She also started cross country. She is not fond of running (atleast not yet!) and she has informed me that she is really only doing it so that she doesn't have to ride the bus home! Sort of sounds like the recipe for disaster, eh?

I picked her up on Day 1. She complained about how far they had to run and how hot it was and told me again that the only reason she was doing it, was to please me! As I drove home, I was thinking to myself, as I watched her in the rear view mirror, "Oh man, this is gonna be a long year!"

Day 2. She hopped in the car and said "we didn't have to run as far as yesterday". She seemed a little happier, lighter, not so grumpy. She also informed me that they have their first meet next week. And, surprisingly, it was not followed by "I don't want to go" or "I am soooo not looking forward to it!" When I asked her if she was giving it an effort, she said, "I am trying, mom." Oooh, progress. I will take "I am trying" over "this sucks!" any day!

Before school started, we were talking about it and she said even though she didn't want to do cross country, she would never quit. She went on to say that in her dance class, when someone quits, the entire class is forced to start over and do another dance because it doesn't work without that one person. She said, "It just makes it hard on the whole class and I don't think that's fair."

We often get that idea that once something is hard, we can just give up. I am so thankful that she is learning at an early age, that "quitters never win and winners never quit"! Amen.

The other day at practice they had to say their name and why they had gone out for cross country. (I could only imagine what she said. "Ummmm...I am only doing cross country so that I don't have to take the bus home." or "I hate running but, my mom made me do this!") Much to my surprise, she said, "I am doing this because my mom loves running!" Aww, that's sweet. Even if she is doing it more for me than her right now, I am hoping that, in the end, she might just end up enjoying it a little bit!

Just today, I saw a post on facebook that really hit home. It said: "DLF (Dead Last Finish) is greater than DNF (Did Not Finish) which trumps DNS (Did Not Start) anytime." Even if she ends up last in her heat, I am proud of my little girl for getting out there and trying. And, finishing last is way better than not ever getting out there at all. Go get 'em girl! I'm rooting for you.    -Mom

it's true what they say...

All those cliches. All the things people say about rasing kids. You hear 'em say it and it usually goes in one ear and out the other. You think to yourself, "Yeah, right...". When you are in the thick of child rearing, the days sometimes seem endless and you can't imagine a world where you will actually get to close the door when you go to the bathroom. You can't imagine a quiet house. Or better yet, one that stays clean while you are at work.

Don't blink, it goes by way too fast.
You're gonna miss this.
Kids grow fast - before you know it, you will be sending them off to college.

Yeah, Right.

You know what? They were right.

Next week, I will be moving my oldest child into the dorms at college. I can't believe how fast the last 18 years went by. Seems just yesterday, he was cruisin' around in diapers or was obsessing over firetrucks. Now, he is ordering textbooks online and packing boxes full of his most prized possessions.

Today, I drove past his high school on my way home from work, and just stopped and listened to the sounds coming from the football field. Afternoon football practice. I love the sound of kids working hard. Of coaches yelling things. I love the sight of all those kids in green jerseys. Running up and down the field. Expectations of the next game. I just love high school football. Period. What I miss the most right now is "Friday Night Lights". The lights. The speakers. The crowd in the bleachers. The calls. The boys of fall. The hot cocoa.

All I can say is that it does go by fast. Seems like just yesterday he started playing football; I still remember him breaking his thumb during the first game of the season, his junior year. Heartbreaking because he had to have surgery and sit out the entire rest of the season. Then, came his senior year. I went to every home game. He started most games. He even made the paper some mornings. I was such a proud mama!

Even though I don't feel 18 years older than the day he was born, I am. And, like it or not, my baby boy is growing up and becoming a man. His life is waiting. He has never been more ready. And it's time for me to let him go and discover all of it. Whether I am ready or not. Here we go!

the mountain

"Your off to great places.

Today is your day.

Your mountain is waiting

So, Get on your way!"

 Dr. Seuss

 



As summer rolls to an end, what better way to wrap it up, than to do an incredible hike? On Labor Day, I set off with my son, his friend and two girlfriends and headed up to conquer South Sister, the third largest mountain in Oregon. A 14-mile roundtrip adventure!

 

 

This hike has been on my "Bucket List" for quite awhile and I figured it was finally time to see what all the hype was about! I had heard from several people that "it was the hardest thing they have ever done" and that it was "harder than childbirth or running a half marathon!" None of that sounded particularly enthralling to me so, I put it off as long as I could. Until now.

 

I have a good friend who I trained for a half marathon with, who asked me if I wanted to do the hike over Labor Day. After much discussion and back and forths, she convinced me to do it. When I asked her if she really thought I could do it, she replied, "Yes, because I think you can do anything!" Wow. How was I supposed to respond to that other than by saying "OKAY, I'm in!"

 

So, we set out Monday morning at 7am. The first mile and a half was a tough, uphill through the forest. Luckily, I had brought trekking poles which really helped on the steep hills. Once we made it through the trees, we found ourselves on this clearing and got our first glimpse of our mountain!

 



So pretty!

 

Susan and I heading off on the trail

 

 

We continued on. For awhile it was pretty flat. Then, we began our ascent to the summit of South Sister. It was by far the hardest hike I have ever done. We plodded through lose rocks, switchbacks and boulders. I kept the prize in mind as I trudged onward, even though I couldn't see the top of the mounain yet. I had to stop several times. I got separated from the group, as they were all way ahead of me. There were many times, that I would stop and think to myself  "what if I can't make it up the whole way?" But, then I would block that thought out of my mind and keep going. I had to see the summit and get those award winning photographs! That is what everyone talks about. That is what I had come to do. There was no way I was going to let that mountain win!

 

I met some really cool people on the way up. A guy from Florida who had a matching pink bandana on (we took a picture together!), a woman who said she had lived in the area for 30 years and had never hiked S. Sister (I have only lived here 23 years and had never hiked it so, that made me feel a lot better!) There were young kids hiking with their dads. There were groups of young teenage kids. There were hot bods, old men and everything in between. One gal in particular, caught my eye as we were heading down...she was wearing super short black shorts with gators and was running down the hill. She was pretty amazing!

 

After a few hours of hiking. I finally reached the top! I came over the rim and heard my two girlfriends say, "You made it!" We still had to walk around a rocky ridge to get the views so, we did. Once we came up and over, I knew it was all worth it.

 



 Me and the other 2 Sisters!







After having lunch on the top and taking a gazillion photos, it was time to begin our descent. I was a little worried about that part, because I knew there was only one way down - and it wasn't in a private helicopter! The hike down was almost as hard as the uphill, with all the loose rocks and cinders. (Sidenote: two days after I did this hike, a young man had fallen 200 feet on the ice, hitting boulders and injuring his leg and had to be airlifted out! So happy that didn't happen before my hike!) Again, I was so happy to have my trekking poles to help me. But, even with the poles, I fell on my keester a number of times. I lost count at 5. In addition, my knees and feet were killing me. With each step down, my sore toes would jam into the front of my not-so-comfy hiking shoes. The hike down seemed to last forever. I couldn't even remember certain areas of the hike, even though I had just been there a few hours earlier.

 



 

The descent...gorgeous view, but grueling!

 

 

Once we reached the bottom, I kept looking up and saying, "I can't believe I climbed that!"

 

 

We got back to the car at 4pm, nine hours after we had started. The first thing I did was tear off my dusty hiking shoes and put on comfy flip flops! I was worried about what condition my toes would be in, but was happy to see no blisters. My toenails were sore to the touch, and I could see beneath my pink polish, that a little bruising had occured. (A few days later, I had the nerve to finally remove my nail polish and all but 2 nails had turned black and blue. Ouch!)

 

We headed to a nearby brewery and celebrated with a few rounds of cold beers, recounting the days hilights! It was a great feeling of accomplishment, pride and comraderie among the five of us. I was happy that I had finally conquered that mountain. And, I decided, that once was definitely enough! Now, onto the other items on my bucket list...