Tag: heart

#TinkRuns2024

I’m Doing It! June 2024

2chicksandapen

Month 6.

Half way.

Happy the way to somewhere or nowhere? That what’s been on my mind this month.

An MRI for the knees. A milestone I didn’t anticipate before I started this running project. Happy I can get up each day and go but frustrated I can’t go at full speed on anything. Unfortunately, injuries can sideline you when you least expect it. This pretty much describes my current stats: ongoing recovery.

This month marks another 5k that I was expecting to be special. Instead I did a park 5k solo and I’m opting for no races in June to work on my overall recovery plan and enjoy my travel without extra aches and pains. A personal choice. This was an easier decision after the 5k I wanted to do had a date change that conflicted with my travel and the course was going to change. All of a sudden I wasn’t destined to do this race!

It was a year ago I ran the 5k. My mental game probably wasn’t as strong as it is today and my body wasn’t as prepared for the run a year ago. To see the comparison in time and how I feel after this race was really something I’ve been looking forward to. A full circle vision of hard work. Did it pay off? I wanted to know. I won’t know exactly because I’m not repeating the race. I do know however my 5k time is almost 9 minutes faster thus I’ll claim winner on progress for year over year.

I guess it doesn’t matter that I couldn’t make the race. The hills were awful. The walk to the start line in the woods is a workout in itself. One could say you’re tired before you even start. This was more of a disappointment than my injuries to date. Go figure. For June I will add in hill training as a little nod to the race that wasn’t in the cards this year!

Not a ton of miles for June but I didn’t quit.

No stopping me now.

How will my second half differ from the first? 

Will my mileage pick up volume?

The half way point of the year is here. Holy cow. Committing six months to running takes dedication, time, and a can do attitude at the very least. Now it’s time to see what it takes to get to twelve months and really dial in on marathon training. We shall call this the building capacity phase. 

Will my mileage double by year’s end?

Will I get close to 750 miles?

Will I battle more injuries?

 Will I continue?

family, mental health

The Cruelest Month

2chicksandapen

“April is the cruelest month.”

Maybe it is for T. S. Eliot. But for me, the cruelest month is July.

You might think I’d love July, really. It’s the heart of summer, and I am a teacher. Pool days and party nights, right? But these days, we go back to start a new school year in July, so the turn of the calendar brings a bit of dread. But even more so, July haunts me with bad memories.

It starts with the Tour de France, which usually kicks off in the first few days of July. The Tour was a big deal each year of my youth. Long before the days of streaming video, my dad and brother would get up in the middle of the night to watch the race. Throughout the month of July, it was always on in our house…if not the live stage, a recap or rerun or highlight show. Probably not surprisingly, I eventually developed a fascination with Lance Armstrong and the US Postal team (and the other teams he rode for.) Many a summer hour was spent watching the peloton float through the French countryside.

The family love for the Tour and its fanfare was eventually overshadowed by grief.

July is the month when I lost both of my parents. When I got the call that my mother’s short illness had ended, I had the Tour de France on my TV as I got ready to go over and sit at her bedside for my daily ritual. Four years later, the very same week, when I stood by my father’s bedside as he took his last breaths, the Tour de France was on the hospital TV.

These anniversaries are ones I carry in my heart. Some years I almost forget them. But then, more often than not, my heart gets heavy. Deep sighs erupt from out of the blue. Even when my brain is protecting me from sadness, my body remembers.

If only I could put a sign on my forehead….or pin a little note like Paddington Bear had: “July hurts. Take it easy on me.” Life doesn’t work like that. On any given day, plenty of people around me are suffering. When someone snaps at me for no reason, I have to assume their hearts are troubled for reasons that likely have little to do with me.

So I guess it’s no wonder when the Tour de France ads come on, my heart starts to sink. And most years it remains sunk through all the hard and sad anniversaries of July. The heat and heartache can sap whatever energy I have. It sneaks up on me sometimes, but when I remember I know to be patient with myself and just keep going. Eventually August will come.

anonymous letters, awareness

Crazy Train

2chicksandapen

Whoot! Whoot!

The crazy train has arrived. 

This special little train has arrived in your community. Who is on the train? Who is talking about this? Who isn’t talking about it?

Is this scenario real or is it fake news? This story simulates a real life drama you see on television but you are starring in the grand show. What on earth am I about to share with you? I am talking about a helicopter parent dropping her bat shit craziness literally on your door step. Yes this happens more than people want to admit. I don’t have any idea why either nor do I want to speculate.

My story is based on events this week in a suburb of a major metropolitan city. A mom literally lost her marbles and went rogue when her child didn’t win a coveted county athletic award. I kid you not, she lost her ability to see how silly her actions were and how her negative behavior could scar those connected to her, including her child. 

I was in shock. I was awe struck. My mouth might have been left wide open at one point. A helicopter parent actually created a fictitious award for her high school athlete who did NOT earn her own award. That’s right folks. A parent created a phony award. The woman went to the highest extent to recognize and celebrate her child in the most bizarre fashion. Colored graphics, high resolution photos, prior coach recommendations, prior teammate validation from across town, fancy words describing her athletic prowess, good sportsmanship, and so on. So much effort was put into this award that wasn’t earned. The award was a parental masterpiece in their mind. A mere joke to others. Of course I can’t post the actual award as it would be insensitive to the child.

The helicopter mom even went as far as posting online on the day peers received awards at an actual banquet where athletes received their own merit award as voted upon by other area coaches. The helicopter parent posted this self-proclaimed award on social media for the community to see. For the entire community to see her overshadow those who actually won an award fair and square. And if that wasn’t enough she blamed the coach for overlooking her child publicly. The helicopter parent didn’t care who’s reputation she tarnished.

This was funny since it’s other coaches who vote, not the actual coach of the home team the kid plays on. Can anyone say meddling helicopter parent? Have you ever encountered this kind of crazy train in your local community? I wish I could go back to my childhood and see if such behavior ever existed around me. I don’t recall.

In the good old days, I played sports for fun. I spent many hours a day outside playing. I spent my summers at the park learning fundamentals in many sports as part of the youth recreation program. We had pick up games. We won and lost but nobody ever complained. Never once would a parent pick a fight with a kid or cause a ruckus over child’s play. It simply wasn’t important.

High school athletics is more competitive. It was then and it is now. Parents were proud back in the day but they didn’t fight their kids’ battles. College athletics is the same as well. It’s the athletes that put in work not the birth givers. Therefore it’s the athletes that earn their spot on the field or their play time and of course their award. It’s their name on the plaque not the birth givers. No parent should have the ability to influence their child’s place on a team in a competitive sport when one reaches high school. It’s absurd. It’s not fair. It doesn’t teach the athlete to compete. It teaches them how to complain to win. It’s bullying.

Let’s dial back to mental health for a moment. What benefit can a parent receive from their child receiving a coveted award that is not earned? Does it fulfill a void from their childhood? Does it win loyal friendships for their child? Does it gain confidence among coaches and peer athletes? I seriously doubt it. 

What I don’t doubt is that it will create a backlash. A derailed train. The child becomes at risk. Said child can be made fun of. Said child can become depressed and withdrawn. Said child can be angry and retaliate as they learned such a skill from their parent, all of which leads to challenges that may not be able to be reversed. This could also create scars that are not physically visible. This could lead the child to suffer in silence. Was the mock award worth it? I doubt it.

As a parent we need to just do better. Kids today are already under pressure due to today’s social norms. These kids don’t need parents adding strain to their already stressful life that is pretty much available 24/7/365 online.

Twitter, Instagram, facebook, group chats, instant messengers, etc are all outlets young adults use to share information. If you don’t want your story on the front page of the news, don’t post it online. It’s that simple.

I know when I post on this blog site not everyone will like what I post. It is okay. There may be some that benefit from my rants. I unfortunately can’t share the outcome of this crazy train as it makes frequent stops in the general community I may or may not call home or homebase. One day it may be your house. Another day it may be a friend’s house. Next week it’s the newbie’s house. Sooner or later the crazy train runs out of stops.

At that point the train parks itself or fixates itself on one poor soul. The train is set for the long haul. Behaviors escalate and those around get scared. What’s next.  A shooting? A fist fight? A shift to private school from public? I don’t have the answers.

What I can say is hard work pays off. Those who fail should work hard to get noticed the next time around. They should ask a coach what should they do in the off season to see success in the future. Display resilience. Be eager to show one’s worth. Don’t run to a birth giver and ask for recognition. An athlete has to be mentally and physically tough. They need to have the ability to push through the hard stuff. Sometimes the hard stuff comes daily.

If one was in the NFL and made a mistake there is a consequence. You get fired, fined or relocated. Your birth giver wouldn’t be able to fight your battles. I could write a whole book on the subject of parents and entitlements. Kids today need to learn to problem solve on their own.

A teacher isn’t going to change the kid’s report card if they fail their class. That’s unheard of. The same principal should apply for awards. If you fail in a season a coach can’t be expected to give an award for less than stellar performance. 

Helicopter parents need to get a hobby. Take up knitting. Buy a coloring book. Find a way to entertain yourself that doesn’t involve living in your kids shoes. It will never work out well for you or your kid. PSA #404.

I would also refer back to “Lessons” post from back in May. It’s one worth rereading a couple times a year.

challenges, health, Teddie Bear Adventures

Ruff Week

2chicksandapen

This week was ruff in many ways but I chose the spelling of ruff not rough to symbolize the main trauma of the week as it has to do with my dog and the roller coaster ride we have been on.

Let’s start with last Friday. She spent the day at the groomer getting all spiffy. Check out the picture below of the fitness of health dog edition. A fabulous Labradoodle weighing in at 49 pounds and 11 months old. My baby.

Then Monday rolled around for a routine spay surgery. Complications hit quick. Delays in the operating room. Challenges in recovery. More tests. X-rays. More observation. A few hours with my baby and then labored breathing hit. Luckily I’m minutes to the veterinarian. She stopped breathing en route. Had to be on oxygen and have an immediate blood transfusion. So much chaos in the blink of an eye.

Another operation was required. Internal bleeding was the cause of her rapid decline. Long days. Sleepless nights. This poor baby was at the vet for five days. 24/7 observation. Poked and poked again. On IV fluids and pain meds. We all felt her void. We all felt her suffering. Even her sister was depressed. She was missing her best friend as the rest of us were too. Can you see the sadness below?

Once this one was an only child and it took some adjusting when we added #2. But now she is lost without her partner in crime. Days were long but the reuniting part was amazing. The kisses and sniffs by both pups. The snuggles from the patient. Just the presence of everyone at home was peaceful. Or seemed so, but the positive moments could easily be short lived.

Now the hard part continues. The recovery after 2 surgeries and a blood transfusion, all before turning one year old.  We were lucky this time. We dodged a few close calls. Timing was everything. The moral of this story is trust your gut. I felt things were not right and reacted. Had I brushed off my thoughts and not trusted my gut things could have ended differently. 

Not sure how I feel about my over share of photos but the blood above is just one of the post surgery bleeds. Some from the incision point. Some from stool area. More bodily fluid in the form of vomit. Thank goodness my first floor isn’t carpeted as it might look like a murder scene. 

My ruff week will spill into next week but that is okay. My perspective on routine surgery vs the reality has me ready to take on anything that is thrown at me. Mental toughness. I got it down pat. Years 2020-2022 have given me lots of practice for sure. A pandemic. Loss of loved ones. Isolation. Trauma of many kinds. 

The good news I am here. Blogging away. My creative projects may have delayed deadlines but my life is moving on and I’m living through the ups and down and everything in between. I choose happy despite the shit show around me. 

author moments, awareness, family

Taken

2chicksandapen

Sometimes things get taken away from kids, teenagers, and sometimes adults. Maybe for punishment. Maybe for a break of sorts. I’m sure there are plenty of reasons to hit pause on items or things or maybe people.

In the past seven days I lost communication with somebody very close to me. The first thing taken was the Snapchat streak. It might not seem important to some but the duration signifies a time period of connectedness. Random to some but important to us.

The next thing that seemed to slip away was the sight of a smile. The connection of where our eyes met each day. The partnership. The little nuances only we know. The physical connection whether in person or virtual.

The backup plan was taken. We watched each other’s pets when each other had conflicts. We covered car pools. We shared burdens. We backed each other up. When one of our dogs would run off the other’s phone number was on the pet tag. Only I lost my ability to call. I lost my backup.

Breakfast visits. Laundry pit stops. What’s in the fridge visits. I just stopped by to say hi.  I just decided to drop by with coffee. Want to meet at the game? All taken. Gone. Vanished. Obsolete. A new lonely sets in your heart. 

Sometimes we take advantage or complain about what’s in front of us and don’t really appreciate it until it is no longer there.

Take note today. Breathe deeply. See what’s around you. Be aware of your good friends. Support those who support you. Be present.

You never want to feel the empty I felt this week as I adjusted to my new normal.

The military can be a great option for some and it can be lonely road for others. Today my family falls into the lonely road category. Timeframe is unknown but the missing time has already begun. Of all things taken I miss time the most.

Time together

Time to chat 

Time to laugh 

Time for us 

Time to be free

Time creates memories. Time is captured in pictures. Time is so very valuable. Time really can’t be replaced. Time away triggers feelings for many around us. Time belongs to the military when you enlist until your time commitment has ended. And for some time can be extended if certain instances such as a time of war or other conflict. As a civilian I never really understood military time as it didn’t apply to me directly.

As I wrap up my day, I still feel lonely. A week of time has passed, but I’m not better. I may even be bitter. I want what was taken but I can’t have what I want. Not now. Not in the near future. Patience is what I am practicing today, tomorrow and beyond. Shifting from civilian to soldier is taxing for not only the soldier but also their loved ones.

Gas prices might be soaring. There may even be conflict overseas. The price of groceries are high. Supply and demand issues  lurk as well. For me my conflict is here with me. Front and center. A daily battle. Just a mom missing what was taken; her son.