The stories of our lives

"I love Mom's stories about her life. They're funny and interesting. I'm never going to have stories to tell like hers." So came the innocent whims of my ten year old. Fast forward five years, and now she has stories. Good stories, happy stories and sadly, the kind of stories you wish your kids never have to tell. The stories of how politics can sharpen a friends tongue into a steely knife that wounds with accusations like "racist" and "fanatic" when nothing in your character supports that claim. How mutually assured boundaries around conversations can be breached without warning with a fire of arrows meant to wound and bring death; said in full confidence or ignorance, the blood is still red and the wounds bring pain and distrust, bewildering to a 15 year old-mostly comprehensible to a 40 year old, even in the case when the knife is intended to bring death by a thousand cuts. The cuts hurt, and yet you turn to the one you know can heal. The one who says "love is patient, love is kind, love suffers long and love keeps no record of wrongs." You love deeper, knowing full well that to do so means you will be hurt again. You will be slandered and skewered, mostly for your fundamental beliefs. You love as completely as you are able, and in such, you are only slightly able to comprehend what was meant by "forgive them Father, for they do not know what they are doing", and also "there is no greater love than this, but that a man would lay down his life for his friend". I want the story of my life to be one of laying down, of setting aside pride, of love. My tongue is the smallest part of my being and yet the most capable of wounding, therefore I pray that god would give me grace to be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.

Keep writing daughter, in the end, your stories will be too wonderful to tell

26.2 miles to Ironman

The Trimama Road to Ironman

Scope AZ course Jan 2008- Check mental image in place

Learn to run again-check

Apple Blossom Half Mary- suck it up and go May 2008 - prove to yourself that you can start slow, run in last place, finish strong, let that broken knee carry you and be happy - check

Learn to bike again- Check

Buffalo Olympic Tri- June 2008- back in the saddle- conquer the fear and lovin it- check

Chisago Half Ironman-Bike freakin pr and conquer the mental demons- check

Whistlestop Marathon Oct 2008- sorry Dr. Gulli-but a girl's got to do what a girls got to do, and this girl has to prove to herself that she still has what it takes to go the distance- 26.2 holy freakin cow miles (were those shotgun blasts? why yes, it's duck opener, that's right) had a number of bail out moments- but I shuffled on not unlike the Energizer Bunny (the one who's been sitting in Rover's dog house for a number of months, stuffing falling out, springs popping in back, missing an ear, and yet she keeps on going) The woman with cookies at mile 18 gets an automatic pass to heaven in my book.

58 degree ice water never felt so soothing (and yes I brought my wet suit and went for an early morning swim), tequila never went down so smooth, sweet friendships have rarely meant so much, fall colors have not looked so brilliant; leaving just one thing to say

Let's get it on!

I waited patiently for the Lord, he inclined and heard my cry. He lifted me up out of the pits, out of the miry clay. I will sing, sing a new song. How long to sing this song? He set my feet upon a rock, made my footsteps firm. Many will see, many will see and hear

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