Because...it doesn't matter.

Halloween is always a fun time of year.  Ghoulish goblins, tricks, treats and lots and lots of sugar to be consumed.  I've given up dressing up for Halloween.  I'm 34 and honestly, I'm just lazy.  I used to love dressing up and pretending to be someone or something else for a day.  Now, it's more fun to see what my kids want to be for Halloween and let their imaginations run free.

Gavin, my oldest, is 9.  He is a very practical child; matter-of-fact when he speaks (half the time you have to try and guess if he's kidding or not); and very kind-hearted.  He has a good imagination on him, but he's so quiet most of the time that you'd have to really look to see.  For Halloween, he's always been more on the practical side: a devil, Superman, Mr. Incredible, Speed Racer, Mario, Luke Skywalker and this year, a cowboy.  Easy to throw to together, and very practical.

Lauren, my youngest, is 6.  She is mischievous, lively and her imagination runs absolutely wild.  She tells stories that she makes up on the spot.  Because she's grown up with an older brother, she loves to play with action toys, video games and more of the "boy" centric toys.  She'll bypass the Barbie aisle at Target for the Lego aisle instead.  For Halloween, she's been pretty easy as well: a honey pot (from Winnie the Pooh), a pumpkin, Tinkerbell, Princess Peach, and Princess Leia.  This year, she decided that she wanted to be something different.  She wanted to be Ash, the Pokemon trainer.  I looked it up and didn't see anything wrong with it and found a costume that was reasonably priced.  There was only one thing that was different: Ash is a boy.

Lauren knows that Ash is a boy.  She knows that it is a boy's costume.  She knows that she is a girl that is dressing up as a boy for Halloween.  I know this.  Her dad knows this.  Her brother knows this.  Absolutely NONE of us care that she decided to dress up as a boy for Halloween.  Because...it doesn't matter.  Today is costume day at school and both of the kids wanted to wear their costumes.  I asked Lauren if she was sure she wanted to wear the Ash costume to school.  She said yes, so I said okay.  I braided her hair and pinned up the bottoms so that it fit underneath the hat.  We decided to walk to school, since it was a nice morning.

On the way to school, we ran into a few of her friends.  One friend looked at her and said, "Lauren, did you trade places with your brother or something??  You look like a boy!!" My girl said nothing in response and just smiled.  As we got closer to her classroom, we could hear some of the kids snicker.  Some older kids looked at her and said, "Hey look...he's dressed like the Pokemon dude." To this, my daughter said, "Her.  I'm a Her, not a Him."  When we arrived at her classroom, one of her friends looked at her and gasped.  She said, "LAUREN!!! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!?!? You look like a BOY! You're NOT supposed to dress like a boy!!" Lauren just looked at her and then looked at me.  She came over to me and gave me a hug.  I asked her if she wanted me to unpin her braids so they would show underneath her hat.  She smiled and said yes.  I whispered in her ear that she made an AWESOME Ash and that if people ask her why she's dressed like a boy, she should tell them that because she can and because it doesn't matter.  I gave her a kiss and told her to be kind to others, even if they aren't kind to her.  Some of the other parents gave me the sympathetic pity smile as they watched it unfold.  I just shrugged and said, "That's my girl!"

It makes me sad that I had to have a conversation like this with my 6 year old daughter.  Why does it matter that she dressed up like a boy character?  It means nothing to me and implicates absolutely NOTHING.  Even if it did, so what?  Would I love my daughter any less?  I love my kids unconditionally.  I wouldn't care if she wanted to dress up like Jabba the Hut or if my son decided he wanted to dress up like a princess.  I'd probably laugh because it would be unlike him, but if that's what he wanted, then that's okay with me.  It would make him happy.  Just like dressing up as Ash makes my daughter happy.  My daughter is an original.  My son is an original.  That's the beauty of all of us:  we are ALL originals.  Dare to be you!  Because in the end, that's all that really matters.

Honolulu Week 5: Adjustment.

Distance: 6.2 miles
Time: 1hr 14mins 15sec
Route: Home - Submarine Piers (Pearl Harbor side) - Home

Medical report:  Arthritic knees, runner's knee in left knee, recovering from old ankle sprain in right ankle.  Doctor recommendation? No running.  Period.  Stop.  Now.  If that's not a good option, take 6 weeks off and rehab.  Still not good enough?  Take Naprosen, rehab on your off days and kiss running goodbye when you're done with the marathon.  After chatting with good ol' Sparky, we came to a conclusion.  Let's make this marathon count for fun.  She's going on vacay for 3 weeks and has been super busy...life happens and sometimes it tell you what to do, rather than the other way around.  We decided that we'll just run/walk this bad boy the same way that we started this whole marathoning/running journey...together.  Granted, this will be the end of the line for my running days and Sparky has many more ahead of her, but it will be an awesome way to go out.

I woke up before my alarm and surprisingly, the hubs was awake.  I threw on the shorts and shirt and told him to go back to sleep (which he promptly did until 30 mins after I got back).  I went downstairs, grabbed the tunes and the water bottle and hit the trail.  It was still dark, but it was already a beautiful morning.  I started out by walking 5 mins to warm up and then I would run 3 minutes and walk 2 minutes.  I found a great training schedule for run/walking marathons, so I'm going to give it a go and see how it turns out.  I wrapped my ankle with a bandage, so I had a lot of support and it didn't give me any trouble.  My knee was feeling it a bit today, but I just kept on trucking.  Toward the end of the run, it didn't bug me too much.

I ran over to the Pearl Harbor side and went past the Makalapa Gate.  I usually go through that gate onto Kamehameha Hwy when I head to Ford Island.  This time, I decided to just stay on base and head to the last gate.  I didn't quite reach the Halawa Gate, so maybe next time.  It was a quite morning, as far as seeing other runners.  It was cool and cloudy, so I think that may have deterred some folks from coming out.  When I hit mile 5, the sky opened up and started pouring down ran.  I started laughing like a crazy person because it felt awesome. 

I made it home and was happy to have finished this in under 1hr 15.  For incorporating so much walking, I was really pretty surprised at how well it went.  I felt great and I felt like I could have kept on going.  I stretched out my knees for awhile (I'm doing it right now as I write this) and it helped immensely throughout the day.  Ankle is doing pretty good as well.  I'm feeling fairly optimistic about the marathon and the new approach to finishing it.  I just have to remember that it's not about time, this time.  I am really competitive with myself, so I have to ignore the finishing times for now.  It's more important to do this right and finish without killing my legs, rather than do it in a PR. 

Let's do this thing!  :)

Honolulu Week 4: Old.

Distance: 4.00
Time: 49:32
Route: Out to the Hickam Marina and back home.

This was supposed to be an 8-miler this week.  I was actually really excited to be doing 8.  After the craptasticness that was my 7 mile run, I had a good run week and felt confident.  I felt like I was back in the game mentally and ready for training.  Bring. It. On.  Then Friday happened.

I went for a 4 mile run on Friday morning.  Just an out and back.  It was a great run...no issues and it was a beautiful early morning run.  I came up with some cool ideas for the OSC on this run, so it was awesome.  I went through the day and cleaned up the house and then went to pick up the kiddos from school.  On the walk home, I had some pretty gnarly shooting pains go through my right ankle.  It felt like I had rolled my ankle a bunch of times.  I thought maybe I just needed to pop the joint and it would feel better.  I did some range of motion exercises with it to see how it felt.  It smarted pretty good, so I decided that I'd rest it up and see how Saturday went. 

Saturday the ankle was still sore and now my left knee decided to join in on the action.  Walking up and down the stairs in the house was actually proving to be somewhat challenging.  I rested up for most of the day and made sure to take some ibuprofen before I fell asleep.  I got all of my gear ready and decided that I'd change up my planned route...just in case I had a problem, it would be easier for me to get home without having to call anyone to come and get me.

Sunday morning, I got up and headed out toward the marina.  My plan was to run out there and back and then hit the trail and run 2 miles down and back on the trail over into Pearl Harbor.  My ankle was pretty sore.  I warmed up a bit and the pain started to diffuse a little.  As soon as that pain died down, the knee would flare up.  I made it out to the marina and took a quick stretching break.  I thought that maybe if I stretched my calves and my ankles, then I'd be all right.  Maybe they just needed a good stretching.

As I ran back toward the house, the pain in my knee intensified and the pain in my ankle was still fairly noticeable.  I stopped to walk it out by the flight line.  When I started to run again, I knew that I needed to get home and put some ice on those bad boys.  I felt defeated.  I had so looked forward to putting the previous week's run to shame, only to feel deflated and defeated.

I don't know what it means.  I don't know if it's just a pulled tendon or maybe early arthritis in my knee.  I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow morning and I'm hoping that he'll recommend a referral to radiology so I can get a scan or xray.  I've rolled my right ankle (and subsequently fallen as a result) so many times, that it's truly a miracle that I have not broken it yet.  I know that there is damage in there, but I don't know to what extent it's damaged.  I'm hoping that this doesn't turn into another battle; I'm not holding my breath though.  In the meantime, I'm not giving up.  I can try and see how the elliptical goes as a stand-in for the running.  I can try and strengthen and condition my legs in the pool.  We'll see how the appointment goes and then figure it out from there. 

It sucks getting old.

HNL Week 3: Yowsa.

Distance: 7.0 miles

Time: 1 hr 21 mins 44 sec

Route: Home - AA Trail - Pearl Harbor - Kamehameha Hwy - Ford Island - USS Utah Memorial

Welp, here we go again.  Training for my last marathon.  I know I've said it before..."yadda yadda, last marathon, yadda yadda".  This truly it.  I figured, what better way to go out than the Honolulu Marathon?  I signed up back in January when the price was right and when life hadn't happened yet. 

I have to be honest, this training has been hard.  I'm not mentally in the game and I need to be.  I had been enjoying my cross training days more than my running days and that really can't be a good sign.  I have all the excuses: I'm tired, I'm busy, I'm only 5 months post-op, I'm not as fast as I want to be, blah, blah, blah.  That's just it though...they're all excuses.  Physically, I know that I can do this.  Emotionally and mentally, I need to slap myself back into reality and kick my Debbie Downer and Negative Nelly to the curb.  This morning's run was definitely a good slap back into reality.

I woke up at 5:15am and got ready.  I left the house a little after 5:30 and hit the trail.  When I hit the trail, it started to rain a bit.  I smiled because I knew it would feel good later.  I was having a hard time getting into a good rhythm.  I took a small walk break at 2 miles to shake off the feeling being off.  I ran through the Makalapa Gate and onto Kam Hwy.  I started running up the Kam Hwy hill and decided to take a slug from the Camelbak...only, I was getting nothing.  I kept trying and still nothing.  Finally, I slowed to a crawl and tried to figure out what wrong.  Turns out the nozzle on the mouthpiece needed to be aligned in the right direction.  Yep, who has two thumbs and is a genius?  This girl. 

I ran down the hill and I saw the Ford Island Bridge in the distance.  Of my favorite places on the run is between the Halawa Gate (Pearl Harbor...only open on the weekdays) and the Ford Island Bridge.  You run past the Arizona Memorial, you can see everything in the harbor and Aloha Stadium is to your right.  It was about this time that it started to rain again.  I got to the bridge and all of a sudden my stomach just started cramping.  My initial plan was to run down to the Pacific Aviation Museum, as they had a really cool thing on display outside and then loop around the flight line and cool down to the Utah.  Sadly, that didn't happen.  I made it over the bridge and then I had to walk thanks to the cramps.  I decided to just head over to the Utah...it would shorten my route, but at that point, I didn't really care.  I was able to start jogging a bit when I hit the Navy Lodge.  I hit the Utah and then did a few loops around the neighborhood to make sure I got the distance.  Mark and the kiddos came to pick me up about 15 minutes later.

This was a run that I was just happy to get through.  I needed this...it reinforced that I won't give up...even when everything in my being is screaming at me.  I know that it was only 7 miles, but it was a good reality check.  Onward and upward from here!  :)

Gram.

Betty Jean Higgs Riley.  Those four names encompass a woman that, for me, had a four letter name: Gram.  I haven't written this entry, because I didn't really know how.  How do you sum up a woman who was both complicated and amazing?

Gram was born on September 16, 1929.  She grew up in New York and went to school to become a nurse.  She did her training at the famous Lenox Hill Hospital in New York City.  She met my grandfather, fell in love, and got married.  She had four children: Michael, Chris, Kathy and Patty (my mom).  She worked as a pediatric nurse and she worked hard...probably too hard for the likings of her own children.  Gram wasn't perfect; no parent or mother ever is.  She made mistakes, as we all do.  Her life took a drastic turn in May 1985.  Her husband, Bill, suffered a stroke.  As he was recovering from the stroke, he suffered a cerebral hemorrhage and passed away at.  I can only remember small snippets of my grandfather and of Gram before he died.  She went into early retirement and moved to Redding so that she could be with her kids and grandkids.  She moved into a little 2 bedroom/1 bathroom apartment.  My parents and my uncles taught her how to drive, and she was scared to death of it.  She was able to get around and became fiercely independent.

I have so many fond memories of Gram.  I remember her taking care of me when I was sick or had broken bones and my mom or dad couldn't afford to take time off of work.  I remember her raising holy hell with my brother and I for swimming in a creek that was off limits (my parents had gone on a rare vacation without us).  I remember she always had a full "Take Home" jar.  She filled it with candy and we were each allowed to take one (or sometimes a small handful) on our way home.  She would make fudge and cookies during Christmas and we would always request her famous Goopy Chicken whenever we would have a sleepover.  She introduced me to the movies, "Beaches" and "Troop Beverly Hills".  My cousin Amy and I would paint each other's nails and Gram would let us play dress up.  She dedicated a couple of drawers solely for that purpose.

This past March, Gram became ill.  She had many different infection ravaging her poor body.  Her bones had become very weak over the years and she fell multiples times within a 24-hour period.  When they took her to the hospital, the full scope of how sick and broken she was became apparent.  Many of her vital organs were shutting down and it was discovered that she had tumors on her liver.  She had signed a DNR and after meeting with doctors and her children, decided that she did not want anymore measures taken.  She wanted to be comfortable and she wanted to meet her husband again. 

I was lucky enough to be able to fly home to see her.  I had been scheduled to have surgery the day after she had been admitted.  Through Divine intervention, my surgery was cancelled and rescheduled for later in the week.  I flew home the next day and drove straight to Redding.  I had brought a vivid pink and white plumeria lei with me and I gave it to her.  We sat and had a small conversation.  I told her how much I loved her and how much she meant to me.  Even when she slept, I held her hand and just stayed.  She asked if I had to leave and I told her that I did.  She frowned and wouldn't let go of my arm.  I stayed as long as I could.  Before I left, I kissed her and told her I loved her so very much and that I would see her again on the other side.  She smiled, told me she loved me too and fell asleep again.

Betty Jean Higgs Riley passed away in the early morning hours of Sunday, April 1st, 2012.  I miss her everyday.

Hiatus.

If you follow me on Facebook or Daily Mile, you no doubt usually see postings from me about my runs.  It's a good way to keep track of mileage, pace, calories and all of the wonderful trappings that go along with running.  It's easy to get sucked in and become uber competitive with yourself.  Usually, that's a good thing.  It pushes you to do your best and to keep going.  Until it starts to become self-deprecating.  You find that you're not going farther, faster, or giving it your all.  And then you start to loathe it.  And then you fall off the wagon.

Running has done amazing things for me.  It helped me refocus my life when I really needed it.  It has helped to keep weight off for almost 2 years.  It has helped reorganize the thoughts in my brain and figure out where my priorities are.  Unfortunately, running has also started to deteriorate me.  Mentally and physically.  I constantly try to beat my previous times.  That's not a bad thing, but when you start to internally berate yourself, then it's time to take a break.  My knees have always been weak, but now my hips are starting to cry out a little more than normal.  My solution for the time being is: hiatus.

I'm not giving it up...rather, refocusing on doing other exercises.  I am signed up to run the Honolulu Marathon in December and this will be my last full marathon.  I had wanted to Big Sur at some point, but realistically, I don't think it will happen.  I don't know that my body could handle training for another full without cracking with an injury.  Maybe it could and maybe my body will surprise me and still have room in the tank after training for Honolulu.  I need to train my body in lower impact/high cardio exercises to help make up for the pavement pounding.  Elliptical and swimming will most likely become my BFFs until it is time to start seriously training for Honolulu.  I think it's a wise decision at this point.  I just need to keep it in check and not give up on exercising completely.  It's really easy to fall off the wagon completely.  I'm only halfway off right now.  :)

Valentine.

Valentine's Day.  If you want to bring out my grumpy, snarky, cynical side, then come on over and have a chat with me about Valentine's Day.  Who the crap thought up of a day full of hearts, candy, flowers, sappy cards and mushiness?  Here's my story of why I detest Valentine's Day:

I've despised this holiday for as long as I can remember.  As a kid, I was a little on the fugly awkward side.  I didn't wear the cool clothes, I had bad hair, I wore glasses and of course, I just wasn't the cool kid.  When Valentine's Day rolled around, I would get excited about writing cards to all the kids in my class and would dream about the candy, the little cards and such that I would get too.  Then I realized that it was mandatory.  In order to get Valentines, you had to make them for everyone in the class.  It wasn't really whether or not kids wanted to give me one...more of a "you-have-to-give-me-one-and-then-I'll-give-you-nasty-chalk-tasting-candy-hearts".  I can remember the boys in class would snicker when they had to dump one into my folder.  I can also remember overhearing a friend's mom at the class party mention that I would probably be one of those kids that would be a late bloomer...you know, the one that would look cute/pretty/socially acceptable later in life...just not yet.

In high school, I bloomed a little.  I had a steady boyfriend and I can remember that I was excited that I'd actually get to be someone's Valentine on Valentine's Day.  Yeah.  Fat lot of good that did me.  The one Valentine's Day I actually had something to look forward to, I ended up having to miss.  I had been diagnosed with mild scoliosis in my back and my mother conveniently scheduled the appointment with the spine specialist that late afternoon.  We conveniently hit rush hour traffic coming back from Sacramento and by the time I finally made it home, it was past the reservation time and wouldn't you know? It was almost past my curfew.  In case you couldn't guess, my parents despised the guy I was seeing at the time. 

When I met my best friend and the man I would marry, I explained that my track record with Valentine's Day was pretty sketchy.  He gave it a valiant effort in the first few years.  We'd go out to dinner or go do something.  As we got older and wiser, we realized that Valentine's Day was really just another day.  What makes this day any more special that yesterday or tomorrow?  We decided that Valentine's Day is null and void.  We celebrate being in love and having someone to love every time we say the three most terrifying and wonderful words: "I. LOVE. YOU."    Don't get me wrong though...my kids haven't discovered the cynical side of their mother yet (at least, not that I know of), so I still try to make it fun and perky for them.  I help them with their cards, provide stickers and markers to decorate their bags/boxes to carry home the mandated cards passed around at school, and volunteer for the class party. 

Flowers will die, cards get thrown away, and candy...well, candy goes straight to my ass and my thighs.  I don't like hearts, I don't like pink and I just plain don't like Valentine's Day.