Back on Blog

I ran a marathon on Sunday. And there is something about running a marathon that makes me want to write. I think that it was running that inspired this blog three years ago. That was now five marathons ago. Wow. Time flies. My marathon time, however, seems to hover near to 3:40, but I'll get into that later.

I left this blog hanging, not because I didn't have time to write. I wrote a really bad 50,000 word novel in November. I abandoned the blog because somewhere in the middle of selling our condo this summer, packing our life into little boxes and adjusting to a new place, I lost the narrative. I just wasn't sure where the story was going to go. It was easier to write fiction.

The whole summer, literally from Mother's Day to Labor Day when we moved into the new house, was a time of uncertainty. I didn't know if we were making the right decision. I didn't know how it would all work out. In the end, it more than worked out well for us. And during the in between time I dug a little deeper into my faith and asked God to provide. He did. And I felt like I got to know him a little better. I know that is the purpose of all striving in life -- to find our way into conversation with God.

Anyhow, I found it difficult to blog during the summer. And then it was hard to get back into it. The blog was hanging. And I wasn't sure where to pick it up.

But Sunday I ran a marathon, and a marathon is worth a blog entry.

So ... more to come.

Marching On

March ran through like both Lion and Lamb – with both a whirl of activity and very quiet, meaningful moments. So many experiences deserved their own blog entry, but I was too busy experiencing life to stop and write. Here is a brief recap.

Baseball

Hitting a line drive

Our son started baseball season, something he has been asking to do for years. He played a little T-ball a couple years ago, but this year he is in 5-pitch, which means the coach actually pitches the balls to the kids.I try not to gasp too loudly from the grandstand when the coaches accidentally hit the kids with the pitching.

Over the years we have watched our kids participate in many soccer and basketball games. It has always been a little difficult because they were so content to just wear the uniform and run around the court or field.  Actual contact with the ball was rare.

And to be fair, I was always content to cheer on, or zone out, depending on the situation, during the game and praise them for their little successes. But as they got older it became apparent that other parents were more involved and didn’t always appreciate my laissez-faire attitude. When they quit asking to be on sports teams, I was happy.

So it was with reluctance that I registered our son for another season of Little League. But the funny thing is, we have discovered this time that he is actually a great hitter. His coaches call him Little Slugger and he has already hit a few home runs. And while I would happily support him every time he struck out, it’s kind of nice to have a winner in the family.

Girl Scouts Cookies

Our daughter sold girl scout cookies again this year. And while it wasn’t a big deal, over the month it began to take a big chunk of the calendar as she wanted to participate in every grocery store front table that was available. Glad she had the experience. Glad it is over.

Grandpa Jerry

Kip’s dad came to town for a medical conference and we spent a week running around LA, hiking, sailing, taking him to our favorite restaurants, visiting my brother’s new food truck. It was a busy week and deserves it’s own blog entry. But in the interest of time I’m going to include a few of our favorite moments in pictures and let that be it.

I think Grandp Jerry and "Gage" are telling a story

 

 

 

hiking at Solstice Canyon

Grandpa Bob and Nana visit

Just a few days after Kip’s dad left, my parents came for a week. Once again, our visit deserves a whole blog entry. I had so many thoughts about our time together. Once again it was visiting my brother’s new food truck, checking out a museum, sailing, and just spending quality time together. They were here to cheer me on during my third LA marathon, which also deserves its own blog entry (and may get it.) And once again I was deeply grateful for the wonderful parents God gave me. The world would be a far kinder place if everyone had parents like mine.

After the Marathon

My dad and my brother Tim in front of the Flatiron Truck

Coffee at the Commissary in West Hollywood. The Flatiron usually parks here on Sunday mornings for brunch.

Life Beginning and Ending

On Monday one of my dearest friends told me she was pregnant, an unexpected blessing celebrated by all her friends, and then on Wednesday another friend told me that her mom had taken a turn for the worse. The hospice nurses expected her to pass that day. When Kip came home from work I dropped by my friend’s house to spend a few hours with her and her mom. I ended up spending the night, a night I will never forget. But I will save that story for the next blog update.

Malibu Half Marathon

Early morning sun heats up Point Magu before the races starts.

Kip and I ran the Malibu Half Marathon this morning.

It was my first half marathon, Kip’s first long distance race and our first time running in any event together; which also meant it was my first time not being dropped off at the start  or chased by my family support team with fresh Gatorade, encouragement and personal paparazzi.

But we managed to run the race in 2:22, which I thought was great.

The beautiful bluffs along the Pacific Costal Highway always make the Malibu Marathon a challenging course, but today the sun was out in full force. It was blazing by the 8:30 half marathon start and nearing 80 degrees by the time we finished.

Of course the route was also as beautiful as Malibu can be -- sun shinning through crystal clear waves, dolphins jumping, surfers surfing, clear blue skies.

At one point, as we charged up a steep bluff overlooking a gorgeous surf break, I turned to Kip and said, “I think I picked the wrong sport.”

(Kip has a couple surfboards in our storage area, testimony to an LA time before remodeling projects, late night band practice and weekend sailing. Maybe it’s time to get them out again and try. I think I am almost brave enough to give it another try.)

Before

This morning, as we were rushing out the door at 6:30 a.m., I realized that we did not have any milk in the fridge for the kids’ breakfast. So we flew down to the convenience store and got milk before heading out to Malibu.

For some reason the chocolate milk looked appealing to me, so I ate frosted mini wheats in chocolate milk while Kip rushed us to Malibu. It was kind of gross, but I thought it might be the carbo boast I needed.

When we arrived at Zuma Beach to catch the bus to the start line, I immediately realized that the half marathon was going to be much more crowded than last year. The parking lot was full for miles and cars were squeezed in every free spot along the PCH. 

We were barely making the 7:30 “last” bus, but we somehow found a free spot and ran to the bus.

We made it. And just like the LA Marathon in the spring, it became apparent that marathon officials were going to hold the race and continue to run buses until the crowd was at the start line.

There was something funny about riding in a big yellow school bus with Kip. We met in high school and shared some high school experiences together, but I don’t think we ever road a school bus together back then.

back of the bus, self portrait, high school style

During

The race started at Point Mugu, a funny little campground squeezed between the PCH and the ocean. The last time we were there, our family left the campground in the middle of the night after a wicked wind storm crushed our tent and sparked the Malibu wildfires. That was three years ago.

But there was no wind or fire this morning, just thousands of half marathoners lining up to start.

The race itself was about 12 miles of hills and one final mile-long descent into Malibu. By mile 10 I was glad that it was just a half marathon. And by the end I found it hard to believe that last year I ran the same course, plus another 13.1 miles of Ventura farmland. Of course I had trained for a marathon that time and training seems to make all the difference.

So proud of Kip!! You can give me my sunglasses back now, Babe.

After

Despite fatigue, Kip and I sprinted to the finish line and arrived .001 seconds apart. We weaved through the customary reception of medals and food, bananas, chips and water, to get the real treat at Malibu -- the finisher’s beach towels which look better than any race T-shirt at summer social functions.

And then we wasted no time in trying them out. We headed straight for the beach to stretch, take pictures and relax in the hot November sun.

Refreshing cold water

Yeah!

My friend Kathleen finished a little later and the three of us slowly made our way back to our SUV, which we had so hastily parked along the PCH before the race. We walked for several minutes and slowly realized it wasn’t where we thought it should be.

We kept walking and apologizing to our friend who likely wasn’t planning on walking an additional two miles after the half marathon. And finally I laced up my running shoes again and ran off in search of the car.

Fortunately the car was still there, just parked much further away than we had realized in our rush to make the bus. I was so very grateful that it had not been towed.

When we got home we decided to take the kids swimming, so instead of hitting the showers and bed, we dipped into the pool. It actually felt good to stretch in the water and I’m betting it will make recovery easier tomorrow.

And what is next? I’m probably going to run the LA Marathon in March. Kip says a half was good enough for him, but he might change his mind when he forgets how difficult it was today. I know I always do.

LA Marathon Thoughts

Getting game face on at the crowded start.

I ran the LA Marathon yesterday and 4 hours and 43 minutes later I remembered why the word “marathon” demands respect.

As I was pushing through the last three miles of the marathon, ignoring the excruciating feeling of my toe nail being pounded and slowly wrenched from my toe, it occurred to me that someday a scientist could do some kind of brain test on repeat marathoners to discover if we are missing something – a brain component that registers pain and reminds us to avoid it.

Remember. Avoid. Remember. Avoid.

Listen, it sounds like the cadence of feet running a marathon … remember, avoid, remember.

A couple of months ago, when I signed up for this marathon, I had recently enjoyed the Malibu Marathon. I had read Born to Run and just about every recent issue of Runner’s World cover to cover. I was feeling like a runner. I even flirted with the idea of ultra marathoning.

Everyone was talking about LA’s fabulous new “Stadium to the Sea,” mostly-downhill route, and I just didn’t’ want to miss out on the fun. I had finished the last LA marathon in what I considered almost great time, and I wanted to shave it down to 4 and half hours.

So a couple months ago I started training -- a few moderate weekday runs and regular weekend runs. I enjoyed my training runs with Kip, my daughter and friends from Students Run LA, but I didn’t really push myself much.

Which I realize is fine, but now that I have had 24 hours to process the marathon experience, I realize it is also why this race took me 13 minutes longer than I had hoped. And why it hurt so much.

I think running for fun is much better for the body than running competitively – even if the only person you are competing with is yourself. But I think my problem was that I trained for fun and then tried to run the marathon competitively. And that made it less fun.

So … I learned something.

It was also hot and I hadn’t slept well the night before. And I was getting over a slight cold. So maybe it was a combination of things. All I know is that it was more difficult than I had expected.

But maybe that was the problem. Maybe I just set my expectations too high. Two years ago I had never run four miles together and in the last 10 months I have run three marathons -- without much recovery time in between.

So today I talked to a friend about training for a triathalon. I thought about learning how to swim better so I could use that as my main exercise, maybe try pilates again or yoga.

Funny thing is, this evening I also caught myself saying, “next year when I run the LA marathon …”

So maybe I’m missing something.

My brother was there to cheer me on during the route. He surprised me near the end and rode his bike to the finish so he could be part of the marathon end chaos. Thanks Tim!

Seeing Purple

It has been nearly 10 days since the Malibu Marathon, and I have a purple medal hanging from my bedroom mirror and a matching purple toenail to remind me of the good times. But it already seems like a long time ago.

I have only been running once since the big race. I took a few days off and then I caught some kind of fast-moving, flu-like virus that only made me miserable for about 12 hours but left me with a stuffy head.

Saturday Kip and I took the kids on a bike trip down the coast along part of a 20-mile route I ran last month. It still seemed like a long trip, even with a pair of wheels. Feeling the distance like that made me realize how big of an accomplishment running a whole marathon is. Which is probably good, because the way my mind works I had already started thinking about how it was only a marathon, not like a 30, 50 or 100 miler. I’m not sure why I do that.

I am thinking about running the LA Marathon in March. There is a new and improved race route from Dodger Stadium to the Ocean. I’m sure that it will be cool. I am just not sure I need to run it.

Malibu Marathon

The Malibu Marathon in brief: beautiful sunny day, amazing ocean view, challenging hills, least crowded marathon ever, wonderful personal support and encouragement from my ever faithful friend Kip, and overall the most enjoyable long run that I can remember.

I finished in 4:57, just barely under that 5 hour mark, and nearly 20 minutes slower than the LA marathon, but not too bad considering I had trained less for this race and the course turned out to be significantly more challenging than the LA race. Most importantly, I finished the race feeling fine. I was certainly ready for the race to be over as I crossed the finish line, but I was strong enough to enjoy the rest of the day.

Unlike the LA Marathon in May which attracted at least 15,000 runners, only about 370 runners ran the Malibu Marathon, which made it feel comparatively like a quiet, laid-back run along the beach, sort of. I’m not sure 26.2 miles will ever really be “laid back.” But it felt relaxed, and I ran it feeling relaxed.

The race began just after dawn in Ventura County, along country roads in a sample of California’s beautiful farmland. My marathoning partner from the LA Marathon, Jon, and I played name-that-plant/vegetable for the first hour. Having spent some of my childhood in rural farming communities, where rolling acres are devoted to the same crop, tobacco or cotton in Alabama, corn in Wisconsin; I was delighted by the diversity of plants growing at every turn – artichokes, cabbages, celery, and strawberries.

El Caballo really wanted to run with us.

When I passed mile 10 I remembered that 11 months ago my goal had been to run 10 miles before the end of 2008. I ran that on New Year’s Eve and was so exhausted that I zonked before we were able to ring in the New Year. I could barely walk the next day, and here I was, less than a year later, passing mile 10 with a smile.

About half way through the race the route turned along the Pacific Coastal Highway, and the runners were treated to the world famous views of mountains and ocean. Sometimes the wind blew against us, and at one time I had to turn around and chase my hat.

Let the hills begin!

Up hill ..against the wind

Around mile 18, just when I started to really feel tired, we hit a series of challenging hills that continued until mile 24.

Jon, who had been taking it easy, (he is training for more challenging races over the next few months) decided to speed up around mile 20 and he ended up finishing quite a bit before me. But being alone for the last few miles gave me time to focus on the run and dig deep for that perseverance that makes runners into marathon finishers.

Through the whole race Kip was the most amazing support person ever. At the beginning of the race he noticed that I had dropped my energy snacks, a little stick of strawberry-flavored jelly chews that stick to my braces and give me that little extra boost. And by the time I rounded the first big intersection, he was there, camera and energy snacks in hand.

I had not expected to see him often along the route, but he was able to follow me all the way, driving a few miles ahead and waiting for me, taking pictures, offering Gatorade, smiling, cheering, doing his best impression of Chariots of Fire – which actually became less funny around mile 22. He even changed into a pair of running shorts and ran up a hill or two with me.

Because the hills were so difficult, I forgot about the actual mileage at one point and just focused on running. I was actually surprised when I passed the Malibu fire station and someone yelled, “just two more miles to go.” I thought about that in terms of circles around my neighborhood park, and I knew I could make it. It was helpful that the last two miles were mostly downhill too.

The foot I sprained about a month earlier was throbbing by this point, and I just wanted to make it to the finish. Focus. Finish. Focus.

I also started listening to a podcast of This American Life at this time, which made me laugh. I realized that it was probably not a very competitive strategy to start listening to NPR in the last leg of a marathon, but it was relaxing in a way that helped me zone out of my discomfort.

finishing at 4:57

At the finish line, after receiving my medal and commemorative beach towel, I took my shoes off and waded into the chilly ocean water. It felt great on my swollen feet.

Calling Mom and Dad to tell them all about it.

I told one of my friends today that I really don’t want to see myself as a 5-hour kind of marathon runner. I think if I run another marathon I’ll work on improving my time, but for now, I’m happy that I enjoyed this run. My constant prayer had been, “help me to run well and finish strong.” And I felt like God helped me do that.

My sister asked me a few weeks ago why I wanted to run a marathon, and I wasn’t quite sure how to answer her. Maybe I run marathons (hey, I can be plural now) because it feels really great to set a huge goal and accomplish it. But it must be more than that because I don’t quite get the same feeling from finishing my taxes or organizing the hall closet. Maybe I just like the medals.

Not sure why, but I think I want to do it again.

Running and Music

Malibu Marathon

I am running the big 26.2 again this weekend. And I am feeling kind of nervous about it. I’ve been logging long weekend runs since July, but somehow it doesn’t seem like enough and I hope my body doesn’t crumple under the pressure somewhere around the 20 mile mark.

Because this is my second time around, I guess I was just hoping that I would finish at least one 20 miler and say, “wow, that was easy,” and that just hasn’t happened. Nearly every run this fall has ended with me thinking “Hang in. Just another mile. I can make it.”

About a month ago I rolled my right foot, and I took the next week off from running. Sometimes that side of my foot hurts during long runs, and I think I’m a little concerned that might flare up. Although it did not hurt last week when Kip and I ran 9 miles.

I have been less consistent with the weekday runs, some weeks running only a couple times a week in between long runs. I guess my average is somewhere between 20 and 35 miles a week. Not bad, but nowhere near the 100 miles I hear about marathoners running.

So as one of my dear friends reminded me this morning, I don’t have to finish. I don’t even have to run it. It’s good to remember that I signed up to run it because I wanted to.

I think if I let go of any sort of expectation of finish time and just enjoy the run, it should be great. The route goes through rolling farm land to the Pacific Ocean. It will be beautiful.

Music

My favorite singer-songwriter, Matt Kearney, finished his tour in Los Angeles this week. And thanks to my future sister-in-law who generously offered to babysit the kids last minute, Kip and I were able to go to the show.

It was amazing.

Matt Kearney has been my favorite running music for the past few months. Unlike other music I have run with, Matt Kearney is not high-energy rock or danceable hip hop, but sweet, thoughtful, poetic, gentle music -- road trip music.

“The world is too big to never ask why. The answers don’t fall, straight out of the sky….”

To Run a Marathon

Jon and me around mile 14

The very word marathon is synonymous with perseverance, dedication, working hard for a long time. Two and a half months of training and 26.2 miles later, I understand why.

Yesterday I ran the LA Marathon and I have to say, it was a great experience.

I want to do it again. I ran faster than I thought I would, enjoyed it more than I thought I would and felt better than I thought I would – until about an hour after the race. But I’ll get to that later.

Monday morning

Jon, my marathon-training friend, the guy giving the thumbs up in the first picture, picked me up for the race about 5:30 a.m. I was happy to not have to worry about driving and parking downtown and it was nice to have someone to share the experience with.

I was more than thrilled with the running-perfect, cloudy grey weather. And even though I worried that I had not slept enough, trained enough, stretched enough; I was as ready as I was going to be.

A little after 7 a.m. we crammed into the crowd of runners filling Figueroa Street. We were in the middle with anxious bodies shoulder to shoulder as far as I could see. There was no room to stretch, barely enough to nervously recheck my running shoes. Unwanted sweatshirts were flying through the air, empty water bottles dropping to the pavement. The Marathon officials blasted a song about LA that sounded vaguely familiar and the mayor addressed the crowd. I have no idea what he said.

The start sounded and the crowd slowly inched forward. It took us 2 minutes to cross the starting line.

The first mile was characteristically slow and I resisted the urge to weave in front of all but the slowest walkers. I tried to relax and not think about running a marathon and simply enjoy the run. It wasn’t too difficult. It was a great running day with great energy among the runners and the spectators.

I turned on my MP3 player and after the first song (POD – Alive) I heard Kip’s voice. Apparently, after I went to bed Sunday night he stayed up late and recorded little sound bytes of encouragement. For the entire marathon, every few songs there was a little Kip PSA straight to me, “I love you and I am so proud of you!” as well as little jokes that weren’t really funny, but made me laugh anyway.

He read some of our favorite scriptures too, ones like Hebrews 12:1 (…….let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith …) He didn’t read the whole passage, but he didn’t need to. It’s one I have known since I was a kid, but understood better yesterday as I stared at that orange finish banner fluttering across the street. As I focused on it, rather than my weariness and discomfort, I knew I was going to finish.

Around mile 9 we saw Cindy, Jon’s wife, and their daughter standing along the road, cheering us on. That was fun. A few miles later we saw Kip, jumping up and down and waving ecstatically, stopping only to snap pictures. He was with my kids and my parents who had flown from Oklahoma to cheer me on.

Happy to see the family

I thought I would enjoy running through the diverse neighborhoods, seeing my town from outside the car. And I did, but it was different that I expected. The city was at its best, a Utopian novel where there is no traffic and strangers come out of their homes to offer weary travelers food and water.

By mile 17 I had to stop at the port-a-potty, and so Jon ran on, and I began to hit the harder part of the marathon. Just as I was beginning to feel really tired I heard someone yelling my name and saw my brother Tim and his girlfriend Heather standing on the side, cheering. I was so happy I started crying. I was not expecting them there and the sight of them was overwhelming. Tim even rode his bike up a few blocks to continue cheering.

Three miles later, as the marathon began to feel like a marathon, I was surprised to see Kip, the kids and my parents again.

Near Mile 20

My dad caught this on video. The off-camera voice calling my name is my mom.

I kept running.

By mile 23 I was getting tired. My knees hurt and I felt a little out of breath, out of energy. I was used to a little joint pain on long runs, but not running out of steam. I had accidentally left my energy snacks in Jon’s car, so I began accepting the food people offered along side the road. I grabbed a couple orange pieces, a banana, even candy.

I decided to take more frequent walk breaks, but only for about 30 seconds at a time. I was afraid if I stopped to walk too long I wouldn’t be able to run again.

About this time I looked up and saw friends from church, Julie and Greg. They coach a Students Run LA club and were at the marathon to cheer their kids on. When they saw me they jumped into the street and ran along side me for a few seconds.

“How are you? You’re doing great! You’re almost there, just three miles! Look up! Do you see the city? That’s the finish. You can do it!”

There are no words to describe the power of that encouragement -- someone who has run the marathon before, who knows how it feels to reach mile 23, who can speak confidence into your life, and says “You are almost there. You can do it!”

I ran on.

As I approached mile 25 I was so tired I thought the banner said 26, but I knew it wasn’t. I kept running. When I got to the last mile it was obvious. An LA-sized crowd lined the street with barricades to keep them out of the final .2 mile run.

The last bit was uphill and as I ran I stared at the finish banner.

I’m going to make it. I’m going to run a marathon. I’m going to make it. I’m going to finish a marathon.

I turned off the MP3 player and decided to feel the moment.

An announcer perched above the crowd read names and numbers as runners closed in on the finish line. I heard my name as I crossed the line and sensed the computer register my time – 4:36 – so much better than I had dared to hope two months ago.

It felt like I was walking through a dream as the race volunteers crowded around me,
“Congratulations! Theresa! You did it!” My name was printed on my shirt, but it felt like they knew me. They loved me. They were smiling. They cared that I had finished. Physical exhaustion produces such sweet delirium. One of them hung a medal around my neck. I felt it there.

After the race I walked around in a stupor for about 20 minutes while my family waited for me at the reunion area. When I got there they hugged me, gave me flowers, checked out my medal. Jon and Cindy were there too. Jon had finished with a new PR too – 4:28.

Enjoying the finish with Jon and Cindy and the kids.

Monday Afternoon

I felt great, considering I had just finished a marathon, until we got in the car and started driving home. Suddenly I got an intense headache and thought I was going to vomit. Kip stopped at a 7-11 and got me another Gatorade. I drank half of it and by the time we got home was barely able to walk from the parking garage into the apartment. I felt the encroaching darkness of fainting and lay down on the living room floor.

Water intoxication headache

The headache intensified and my dad, who is a doctor, began asking me how much water and Gatorade I had consumed during the marathon. We realized it was a lot. In fact, I had decided at the beginning of the race that I would walk through every water stop and drink at every mile. So I did, sometimes drinking two cups of water. I did the same most of the time non race people offered water in between the water stops. Apparently it was too much and I had developed hyponatremia – water intoxication.

I had heard about such danger, but after my brush with dehydration a couple months ago, I had worried more about not having enough water. By the way, I have since learned that the best way to avoid both dehydration and water intoxication is to only drink when thirsty.

I immediately stopped drinking the Gatorade and tried to eat a few chips that Kip threw salt on and gave to me, but I couldn’t really eat much. And after a little internet research we realized that salt wouldn’t help at this point. I just needed to wait it out until my kidneys could process the extra water. The headache was excruciating. I couldn’t move for hours.

By mid afternoon Kip and my parents were moving around me, getting the apartment ready for my brother’s birthday party. I felt helpless. I could hear them discussing whether or not we had any more toilet paper for the guest bathroom, and I simply didn’t have the energy to get up and find it for them.

Around 5 p.m. I slid into bed, with my running bib still pinned to my shirt, and tried to sleep. I couldn’t. I couldn’t eat anything either. I still felt nauseous.

My dad’s sister and her family arrived. They actually came into the bedroom to congratulate me on the run, admire the medal, pray for me. It was like being in the hospital.

By about 7 p.m. I got up for a little while to say Happy Birthday to Tim, and then went back to bed. Around 10 p.m. I got up and got a shower, washed away the marathon dirt. I ate a little bit of birthday cake. And went to bed. This time I slept and the headache was gone when I woke up this morning. In fact, other than sore legs, I felt pretty normal.

So would I do it again?

Yes.

It was an amazing life experience to set a goal, train for it and actually run it.

Not Just Running

My dearest "Row-me-o."

Kip said I should write about something other than running. He is right. It’s just that training for the marathon has been a big new challenge for me, so I have found myself writing mostly about that. Maybe I also tend to have thinking time while I’m running, which translates into thinking-about-the-blog time.

So here is a quick RUN-down of the past weekend.

Friday night was date night. I toured the Venice canals with my romantic husband and then went to see The Soloist, an inspiring movie based on a true story. I highly recommend it. Jamie Foxx is amazing, as usual. Robert Downey, Jr. portrays a very relatable, burned-out LA Times journalist, not unlike many of my writer friends from the old days.

More significantly for me, Kip and I found Steve Lopez’s struggle painfully familiar on many levels. I won’t analyze it too much except to say that it is a must see for anyone who has ever been involved in urban ministry or thought they could change the world by helping “fix” someone.

Then early Saturday morning I ran 20 miles with my marathon-training buddy Jon. I love to say that, 20 miles! Not 20 minutes, but 20 MILES. It’s shy of the marathon’s daunting 26.2, but it’s still the longest run I have ever attempted.

It took us about 3 hours and 40 minutes and when it was over I was not completely wiped out. It made me begin to hope that I might be able to finish the marathon in less than 5 hours. Dare I think that is possible? Of course this was on a flat trail along the beach in 60 degree weather. I’m still bracing myself for the possibility of a 90 degree scorcher on May 25th.

Then Saturday afternoon, after a quick shower and power breakfast/lunch, Kip and I took my visiting brother-in-law Dan on a whirlwind driving/walking tour of LA. We went to Venice Beach to see the crazies. Then we went on to Beverly Hills and Rodeo Drive. We saw Joan Rivers there too and apparently I was the only one who didn’t recognize her. I thought, hmm, that old lady looks really familiar. So I guess she is still alive.

Me, Kip and the little man on Rodeo Drive.

A stop at the top of a parking garage was part of Kip's whirlwind tour of LA.

Then we drove up to Hollywood and Highland to see more crazies hanging around the Mann Theater. It should be somehow comforting to know that if the recession hits hard enough you can still dress up as your favorite character, anyone from Chuckie to Jesus, and stand along Hollywood Boulevard for tourist photo ops and tips. There was even an elderly Cinderella there. I guess her prince never showed up.

We finished our LA tour at the Farmer's Market. My dear little brother Timmy joined us.

Put down the camera and have some ice cream!

Sunday morning, after 12 hours of sweet sleep, I caught a little bit of my 6-year-old son’s T-ball game in between running my 10-year-old daughter to a GS workshop.

Then later in the afternoon Kip, my son and I went for a sail. The weather was gorgeous, and it could have been beautiful if my son wasn’t so terrified. Every time the boat pitched he screamed hysterically and clung to me for dear life. After about an hour he began to enjoy himself, but I found the whole experience to be exhausting. Between our son’s hysteria and my own apprehension about Kip depending on me to help guide and sail the little boat, I was miserable and ready to call it a day.

We got back to the boat slip just in time to drive out to Hollywood and make our Sunday evening church service. I was inclined to skip church after such a busy weekend, but I was really glad we went. It was deeply refreshing to focus on scripture, the story of our faith, and respond in worship with friends. I needed it.

So I didn’t fold a single load of laundry this weekend, or make any meals other than the Korean Barbeque we picked up in Korean Town on the way home from church. But I did get a late evening lesson on physics from Kip. He drew diagrams on the white board and explained again how sailing “works.” I actually found it helpful. That should calm my anxiety about being asked to “quick grab that rope and pull!” and “hey, can you take the tiller and steer for a minute while I fix this …”

So that was my weekend. I know I’m blessed to have so much excitement and so many wonderful people to share it with.

Decided

I decided.

I’m in.

I registered for the 2009 LA Marathon!!

It wasn’t really a tough decision after Sunday’s run. Of course, it helped to have the encouraging support of my dear friends, especially Kip, Kathleen and Jon. I think at this point I would be a little disappointed if I didn’t go for it and train all the way. So … I’m going to give it my best.

And Kip helped with the other big decision.

He ended the agonizing car search and bought the shiny black SUV from the Craigslist guy.

I spent the second half of this afternoon worrying about Kip as he drove around the hood with a manila enveloped, oddly marked “cookie money,” stuffed with three hundred and fifty $20 bills. I guess the bank was out of $100s in Inglewood.

But when he returned with this very LA vehicle, so unlike our humble van, I still wasn’t sure it fit us. At my 6-year-old son’s request we took it for a family spin around our neighborhood. And of course Kip insisted on me taking the wheel.

Strangely enough, I discovered that I actually really liked it!

All I ever wanted in my next vehicle was a one of those “beep-beep-key-chain” things (keyless entry) so I could open/lock the door easily. But this vehicle has that and a bunch of other little perks. It has what my kids call butt warmers. (Hey doesn’t everyone want a hot ass? -- couldn't resist.) And it actually reports how many miles are left on its tank of gasoline.

But now there is a new decision. After Kip brought the shiny new SUV home, he suggested that maybe we should fix the van after all -- for me -- and sell his old car. Nice one. That might have worked if he hadn't let me drive it.

What will be its name?

Running Far

I am beginning to feel like a real runner.

This morning I got up before dawn and ran 14 miles -- seven miles across the Marina through Venice Beach all the way to the Santa Monica Pier and back. And for the most part, I finished feeling great.

Training for this marathon (which I have yet to decide to run) has been a really great experience so far. It has challenged me both physically and psychologically, maybe even spiritually.

Last year one of my friends who ran the LA Marathon mentioned something about all the people, “running for Jesus.” I think he was referring to all the runners wearing Christian T-shirts with Bible verses. I thought it was kind of weird.

But now that I am taking on long runs, it kind of makes sense to me. It doesn't seem strange that Christians would identify with their faith as they experienced a test of perseverance.

Persevering through physical training is kind of like inventing your own crisis.

And the Bible speaks to people of faith during crisis.

After the first 10 miles of my run, about the time my knees started reminding me that I don't usually run this far, my MP3 player cycled through the last of the upbeat running mix --the long mix with the really stupid songs like Nickelback’s “Rockstar” and Evanescence/Linkin Park "Wake Me Up;" it began playing a folder of worship music that Kip had downloaded to practice for Sunday.

The songs were not really “running” songs, but the words were beautiful – inspirational in every sense. Just as I was beginning to look longingly down the road, wondering if I would make it the last few miles, Lincoln Brewster’s Everlasting God played. The song finishes with the really cute little kid quoting Isaiah 40: 28-31.

“ …….Even youths will become weak and tired. And young men will fall exhausted, but those who trust in the Lord will find new strength. They will soar high on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint.”

So I kept on running -- even sprinted at the end.

Dubious Deliberations

Making decision is the most stressful part of being an adult – I think.
I constantly second-guess decision I have made and I never seem willing to defend unpopular decisions to people who disagree with me. After all I might be wrong.

It’s not that I’m completely yellow-livered. I don’t flip flop just to stabilize my popularity. I actually want to hear people’s arguments and I am often willing to change my mind.

But it is stressful.

Like right now I’m trying to decide if I should run the LA Marathon on May 25th.

I haven’t said I would do it yet. But I have been training, running 60 minutes or more four times a week and hauling a long run on the weekend.

The thing is, I am just not sure that I am ready. What if I am not? I don’t want to commit to something that I won't be able to finish.

I gave myself a deadline on that one. Tuesday. Nothing works like a decision to decide.

Kip and I ran 10 miles December 31st to meet my 2008 New Year's Resolution to run 10 miles. This year I cautiously increased that to "train" for a marathon and maybe run it.

Dear Emily Elise --our mini van of many adventures -- is your time with us done?

When it comes to family decisions like – should we fix the van’s transition for $1,400 or buy a new used car with our savings – I balk. I procrastinate.

Right now or dead van is sitting in a parking lot at Kip's work.

Waiting.

Kip wants an upscale used SUV he found for a ridiculously low price on Craigslist. I’m less of an optimist and I want to make sure it wasn’t stolen or found floating in Katrina. Besides, when I drove the SUV, I realized how comfortable I am in the old minivan.

Minivans aren’t that sexy, but they are like a pair of well-worn shoes.

Of course, well-worn shoes stink. .... hmmm.

It is even more difficult when the decision involves the kids and their future.

After years of negotiating, Kip and I are basically on the same page about homeschooling the kids. Except now that Kip is firmly on my side, I'm giving myself liberty to question every aspect of the process.

Are we doing the right thing for math? Are we doing enough “school”? Should we participate in this activity, go on this field trip, attend this social event? Why don’t I have a stronger sense of direction?

I know I need to spend more time in quiet solitude, away from self doubt, in the presence of God. And I guess I need to make peace with the reality that sometimes I will make wrong decisions, I will fail and I will live to see another day.

But I'm just not sure ......

I’ll let you know what I decide about the marathon.