Keeping Pace

Keeping Pace

Archives for December 2007

Hungry

by

It’s been about 40 minutes since the completion of my run. My body is settling down and quickly cooling off. I stare at the half of a banana, and small container of leftovers which sit on my desk waiting for hunger to hit. Then, I feel a sudden rush of cold hitting. My head feels cloudy too. The feeling forces me to eat out of obedience to the assumed need for post-run nutrition rather than the feeling of hunger.

But, of course, once the food hits my stomach, my body starts to realize that it IS hungry. Now, I am on the search for more food.

Waking up

by

The end result of the raindrops falling on my face was my waking up. As if hibernating, my new found alertness was vastly different than the protective bubble that I have been sitting in. There are no roses to smell, even here in California, as it is nearing the winter equinox. Still, all of my senses were aroused into a playful awareness.

I looked around to see gray skies with a back drop of amazing colored leaves on the trees and on the ground. The birds sat on fences nearby and watched as I ran past. They seemed to be taking in my presence as much as I took in theirs. With each turn, I was fascinated with an intense awareness of how breathtaking a gloomy day can be. I was more amazed that I was actually experiencing it.

On this murky, yet peaceful, day there were only four runners were out on the trail. We waved as we passed each other, acknowledging the dedication to each of our journeys. I smiled as I listened to the sound of our feet splashing through the puddles.

I finished my run, soaked to the bone and content that I had found some separation from my grieving in order to experience life with a little more intensity and appreciation, even if only for an hour.

Quietly waiting

by

At a small table, within a mall-based Starbucks, YaYa and I sit. A decaf latte and a hot chocolate sit cooling between us. He quietly reads his book while I resist the urge to ask him questions.

He is reading the first book in the Harry Potter series, and I desperately want to know where he is in the story. I want to know what Harry is up to, if he’s met Hermione and Ron yet, and whether or not he has arrived at Hogwarts. It is exciting to watch his finger move across the page. His lips nearly, but not quite, mouth the words.

If only I could read YaYa’s mind; then I would know what he thinks about the story, and feel the excitement of wondering what will happen next – just as I did when I was reading the story for the first time. Instead, I sit quietly watching him and patiently waiting for him to offer commentary.

Do you believe in miracles?

by

Once upon a time, when a day really felt like 24 hours worth of time, people would advise me to cherish my children’s youth. “They grow up so quickly,” they would say. I would acknowledge the comment with a nod and think them silly for making the statement. Time is a constant measure, and certainly my son would grow at the usual rate.

Indeed, when young BoBo was in his terrible twos, he seemed to defy all norms. He moved as if propelled by a tornado, and bounced right back up from each of his falls. All the while, I was wishing that the time would speed up just a little bit so that the terrible twos would end. He wore me out. In a flash they were gone, only to be replaced with the trying threes. But as BoBo grew more capable with each passing day, I began to realize that time was passing too quickly. At that point, I was wishing that time would slow down.

When BoBo was in pre-school he learned about “Apricot Lincoln,” and the miraculous birth of Jesus. He wowed us in the school concert when he recited, “R is for reverence, warship and praise.” He drank in the holiday magic as much as he enjoyed opening his presents. Then one Christmas BoBo stopped believing in Santa. My husband, Tom, and I had figured that it was only a matter of time before the opinions of the older kids would sway him. Even thought I was anticipated, it was still very disappointing.

Tom pulled BoBo aside and reminded him about miracles and just how wonderful believing had been. He pointed out, to BoBo, that YaYa deserved to enjoy the magic of Christmas too. BoBo understood the message loud and clear, and asked if he could help make the magic for his little brother. We agreed.

That Christmas, at BoBo’s suggestion, we began leaving carrots for the reindeer as well as cookies and milk for Santa. BoBo helped YaYa to let Santa know that he had been good by writing the letter to Santa. He even made sure that Santa ate the cookies and milk, and the reindeer ate their carrots. He even saw to it that Santa wrote back to YaYa. It was the only year that Santa took the time to write a note back to any of the kids. It was truly a special year.

[Read more…]

7th Annual Ho Ho Ho Run

by

12-15-07_1011.jpg

I’m not sure what I was looking forward to most, the run or the coffee afterwards – both with old friends. It seemed like neither would happen as I finally pulled out of the driveway. We were at least 15 minutes behind schedule and I considered skipping the whole thing, but I stayed the course. When I recognized the correct exit, only after I passed it, I began to question if we’d ever make it for the meet up with my friends.

At the trailhead, we unloaded YaYa’s bike, donned our Santa hats, and met up with Mark, Tori, Camille, and Margaret. As we have done every year since 2001, we greeted everyone with a “Ho Ho Ho” and a “Merry Christmas”.

It was great having YaYa join the tradition this year. He made me so proud as he rode up ahead, waited for us to pass, and then continued on saying, “on your left” as he passed us. Everyone was so impressed at his trail etiquette, especially his Mom.

PICT0012.JPG

We traveled about three miles down the trail, hooked up with Cindy, and then turned back towards the cars. After our jolly ol’ run, we all went out for coffee and more conversation….spreading holiday cheer where ever we went.

Ho Ho Ho everyone!

Content Protected Using Blog Protector By: PcDrome.