Just Keep Running

Thirty Days of Thankfulness, Day 26

Have you ever driven past someone running down the road and thought, "That looks completely terrible!"?  You are not alone; I used to think like that, too.  These days, when I see someone running, though, I get a little jealous-even if I've already run that day.

When I started running, I couldn't even run one mile without stopping to gasp for air several times, even at a very slow pace.  But then I tried again the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that.  I'd like to tell you that every day got a little bit easier, but that wasn't the case.  If anything, I felt a little bit worse every day.  But I was determined to teach myself to be a runner, if only for a little while.  Every day, I'd lace up my shoes and hit the road.  I'd set goals to make this run faster or to go just a little bit farther than the day before.  The first time I ran three miles without stopping was amazing-I had done it!  But I didn't love it.  I didn't even like it.  But I had committed to run a five mile race in a couple months and I was going to complete it, even if it killed me.  (And I kind of thought it might!)  So, I kept on running.  Further, faster, eye on the prize.  When the race was over I could quit.

And then I ran that race.  And I didn't die.  In fact, it was kind of fun.  And then I wanted to run ALL the races.  I think that summer I raced almost every weekend.  A 5k here, a 10k there, nothing too big.  But then I wanted more.  So I trained for a half marathon and again, I didn't die.  So I ran another one.  And another.  And then I heard rumors of a twenty mile race in Ohio that started to call my name.  So I did that, too.  And then I figured, since I ran twenty miles, I might as well go for the whole enchilada and run a full marathon.  So I did.  And that marathon was hard.   I learned so much in that race.  There's a saying about marathons: "Run the first part with your head, the middle part with your personality, and the last part with your heart."  And it's true-if you go out too fast, you'll never finish, if you can't get over the boredom of the middle, you'll never make it to the final push.  And that final push?  You have to want it.  Whether you run a 14 minute mile or a 6 minute mile, the end will have you reaching deep inside for everything you've got.  But when I crossed that finish line, all those feelings were behind me. I had done it.  26.2 miles.  I was a marathoner.  My first thought?  I want to do another one.

I'm not sure when it happened, but sometime between my first half marathon and my first full marathon, I fell in love with running.  I found that through running, I could clear even the crappiest day from my mind.  I could think through problems and come up with solutions.  I could get lost in a book and think about absolutely nothing.

Every run is an adventure.  I always plan my runs ahead of time, and I'm always looking for new routes to explore.  Sometimes I start out on a trail like this:

And then see a trail like this that I just have to follow:

Sometimes the trails take me to places like this:

And sometimes I get completely turned around and lost and find myself in the middle of a forest:

But I have discovered the secret:  Just keep running.

I started running on March 24, 2013. In the three and a half years since, I have run 6,784 miles, including 12 half marathons, 4 marathons, 2 50k ultramarathons, and countless smaller races.  I have run in rain and sleet and snow and wind and bright sunshine and sweltering humidity, and in temperatures ranging from -5 degrees to 95 degrees.

I guess at this point you could call me an experienced runner.  I know what to eat and drink and how much and when, I know how to dress for any kind of weather, I know when to push it and when to back off.  Does this mean my runs are easy?  No.  Does this mean I enjoy every run?  Definitely not.  I am very tough on myself, and I know my only real competition is me, but I always want more.  I have bigger dreams and goals than what I've already accomplished, but I am taking them one step at a time.  I am thankful that I have the ability and the health to run.  I am thankful I can be a positive role model for my children. I am thankful for the countless friends I have made through running, near and far.  And I am thankful that Jason gets it, and when I need to run, he tells me to go!

A wise man once said, "Run often, run long, but never outrun your joy of running."

Can You Feel It?

Thirty Days of Thankfulness, Day 25

Can you feel it?

Thanksgiving is behind us and the Christmas season is upon us.  There is electricity in the air.  Colder weather has settled in, shoppers are bustling about, travel plans are being made, recipes are being selected.  There is Christmas music on the radio and twinkling lights can be seen illuminating trees and houses at night.  Traditions are being carried out, and new ones are being made.

I have always loved this time of year.  I love picking out the tree and unwrapping all of our old ornaments.  I love baking cookies and treats with the kids.  I love the parties at school and the little crafts the kids bring home.  I love the sound of jingle bells.  I love terrible Christmas sweaters.  I love seeing all of the wrapped presents under the tree.  I love the candlelight service at church where we welcome that little baby Jesus.  I love the smells of cinnamon and pine.  I love the excitement of choosing just the right cookies for Santa on Christmas Eve.  I love all of the parties and get-togethers with friends and family.  I love looking back on all of our Christmases as a family.

2003

2004

2005

2006

2007

2008

2009

2010

2011...where are mom and dad?

2012

2013...where are the kids?

2014

2015

There are thirty days until Christmas.  This means I have thirty days to fill will everything I love about the Christmas season. I am thankful for the traditions my family has carried on, and I am thankful for the new traditions we are creating together.

Thanksgiving

Thirty Days of Thankfulness, Day 24

Today is Thanksgiving.  It's not about football, or shopping, or even the food.  Today is a day to give thanks for the good in life.  It's a day to find joy and gratitude in a world where it's easy to get caught up in other things.  Each and every day is what you make it.  Today, and everyday I am thankful for my faith, my family and my health.

"You will always harvest what you plant." -Galatians 6:7

Jason

Thirty Days of Thankfulness, Day 23

People often ask me how I "do it all."  You know, the kids, the farm, the homemade dinners at night, the running, the blogging-all without losing my mind.  Well, the answer is wine.  JUST KIDDING.  Of course, the only way I can do everything I need and want to do on a daily basis is because of Jason.  He's that dad who gets up early on the weekends to make breakfast for the kids before he heads outside to work in the yard.  He's that dad who cleans up the dishes after dinner and gets the kids into the bath.  He's that dad who takes the extra time to drive the big kids to school, stopping for donuts and frappes.  He's that husband who, when I don't have a thing to wear, tells me to run out and get something new-and make it sexy. He's that husband who gets out of bed in the dark so he can have coffee with me before I head out on long runs.  He's that husband who, when I tell him I need a girls' night, tells me to do it, absolutely.  He's that husband who always has a bottle of wine ready for me in the fridge.  He's that husband who would do anything for me.

Over the years, there are things Jason has said to me that stand out in my mind...

"It's not broken."
Shortly after meeting Jason at a friend's cabin, I took him up to our cabin.  He was out on the jet-ski horsing around and ended up not being able to walk that night.  Or the next day.  And even though I had urged him to go get an x-ray, he claimed it was not broken and went to work on Monday.  When I saw his foot Monday night, it was black.  I forced him to the E.R. where they informed him that, yes, it was broken.  That didn't slow him down, though. Just a couple of weeks later, we headed east and he golfed and walked around Washington D.C. with that cast on.

"Will you marry me?"
I knew it was coming but I didn't know when.  Unbeknownst to me, he had visited my dad and had "the talk" with him.  We had plans to meet at a local restaurant, and after I cracked his crab legs for him, dessert was served-with a ring in it.  He got down on one knee and proposed, and the rest is history.

"We're a family now."
It was the night I had delivered Owen, and we were spending the night in the hospital.  I was in my hospital bed, Owen was asleep in his bassinet, and Jason was uncomfortably curled up on the pullout couch when I heard him whisper those words in the darkness.

"They let me go today."
We knew it was coming-the housing market was steeply declining and it wasn't a matter of IF, but WHEN.  Imagine coming home to a wife and four kids, the youngest being only six weeks old, and having to give that news.  His face was white, and I was sitting in a chair, wondering what, exactly, we were going to do.

"There's this job in Tennessee..."
By the spring of the next year, after finding temporary work with a local company, he said these words to me.  And my mind started racing.  Then he told me the offer, and it was one we couldn't refuse.  So we packed up the house and the kids and relocated to just outside of Nashville.  I loved every minute of it.

"How do you feel about...Ohio?"
And then, as quickly as we had arrived in Tennessee, the job petered out, unpredictably, and he said THESE words.  Again, my mind was racing.  Ohio?  Really?  Do I have to?  I'd be lying if I said he didn't take me to Ohio kicking and screaming, but after two years, the kids were enjoying life there and I had made many amazing friends and miss them to this day.

"I've had my eye this pipeline job in Michigan for years..."
At the end of our second year in Ohio, he said these words to me.  I had heard him talk of some pipeline project, but I never paid much attention.  But then, it was happening.  He had been hired to be a supervisor with a company in charge of installing the pipeline that would supply Flint with good water.  And away we went back home.

"I found this old house on Craigslist...wanna go take a look?"
After a year of fixing up the house we had left when we moved to Tennessee and had rented to people who, instead of buying the house as we had planned, decided to trash it instead, we were faced with a decision: either put an addition onto our current home, or find a new one.  We had looked at many homes over the past year (Thanks to our amazing Realtor, Linda Tenny) but nothing was quite right.  On a day in early June, 2015, he said these words to me.  I think you know how that one turned out.

I've known Jason for 17 years now, and there's one thing I know for sure.  No matter what comes his way, even if it's THROWN at him, he will find a solution.  He takes care of all of us and never complains.  He does anything and everything to make our family run smoothly and happily and I am thankful he chose me to go through this life with him.

Stan the Man

Thirty Days of Thankfulness, Day 22

In addition to yesterday's post about Gigi, there's another person I've been missing.  I wrote about my "Grammy", Eleanor, a few days ago, and although I mentioned my grandpa, you didn't get the full scoop.

My grandpa's name was Stanley Edsel Wogen, and we called him Grampy.  Together with my grandma, he raised his six children, living first in Flint and then moving to the suburbs.  That house was his home for the rest of his life, and continues to be my grandma's home.  He kept his yard picture perfect, and had an amazing garden every year filled with beans, pattypan squash, peppers for canning and the best tomatoes you've ever had.

Grampy loved fishing and when he'd come to the cabin in summertime, he'd take me out in the little tin boat. My favorite fishing memory with him was when we had ventured to the far side of the lake, just before sunset.  We were fishing for bluegill and he had one on his line.  Suddenly, a bigger fish must've chomped down on his bluegill because he could hardly hold onto his pole and our little boat was being dragged back and forth in the water!  He kept reeling and reeling for what seemed like forever, and just as he was about to land the fish, the line snapped and everything went quiet and still.  We may not have brought home a big catch that night, but we had a great fish tale to tell, and sometimes that's just as good.

My birthday and Grampy's birthday were just two days apart, so we always had a joint birthday party.  Of course, he'd always let me open my presents first and then I'd watch him open his gifts, along with sappy birthday cards that always had him wiping away tears.  Grammy would always make us delicious cakes and pies and we'd blow out our candles together.  Birthdays were a little lonely for me for a few years, but little Nash happened to be born on Grampy's exact birthday and now I have someone else to share my celebration with.  I wonder if Nash realizes what big shoes he has to fill of his great-grandpa's.

You've heard me talk about our Sunday dinners at Grammy and Grampy's, where she would take care of the inside baking and he'd take care of the grilling-mostly so he could sneak a little smoking in on his pipe.  I would always pretend to hide as I watched him get out his tobacco and pipe from his toolbox and he'd turn around and feign surprise and tell me not to tell Grammy he was smoking.  It was our little secret and I'm sure Gram had NO idea, right?  After dinner, the kids would get rowdy in the house and he just wanted to relax, so he'd yell, "GO PLAY ON HILL ROAD!", which we all knew was a joke, kind of.  And then he'd take a little nap and pop back up, a new man.  Sometimes, we'd stay until almost bedtime and even into my teen years I'd beg him to carry me to the car.  He'd scoop me up and carry me out and he always made sure to scrape my face with his whiskery face.  Sometimes he'd tell me that he hadn't shaved that day on purpose-just so he could make sure I got the full effect!

Grampy came to nearly every game I played in in high school and college.  Even when he got sick near the end, he'd make sure to get into those bleachers.  It sure was great seeing him and my Gram up there in the stands.  And I remember at his funeral, when we all met together as a family before the service, that the pastor told us not to be sad-that he loved funerals like these where family and friends were gathered and he was absolutely certain that my grandpa was in Heaven.

He was a great and honorable man who served his country and his family and he took great care of all of those around him, especially my grandma.  Even now, if she hears a noise out of the ordinary, she doesn't get scared.  She just says that's Stan, making sure she's alright.  Today, I am thankful for my Grampy, for the great man that he was and for the great memories he left me with.

Gigi

Thirty Days of Thankfulness, Day 21

Her name was Esther.  She was born in 1904, the youngest of ten children.  She married Albert Homsher and had two children: Janet and Donald.  In the 1940's, they bought a piece of land on a lake in Northern Michigan, and built a lovely log home there, which they named "JanDon Lodge" after their children.  Shortly after completion, though, Albert passed away.  Some time later, Esther was re-married to Arthur DeYonker.  This man, whom I knew only for the first two years of my life, was known as Papa.  My only memory of him is visiting him in the hospital before he passed away.  Esther, though, I had the privilege of knowing very well.  We called her Gigi.

She lived in a big old house in the cultural district of Flint.  I have many early memories of her in that house.  I always thought it was funny that her master bedroom held two twin-sized beds instead of one larger bed. I remember her little bathroom, filled with original tile, and the time I had a sore throat and she made me gargle with the old original flavor of Listerine.  I nearly DIED, I tell ya.  I remember the rec room in the basement, filled with fancy wicker furniture, and the cold back room with the stationary bicycle and a little desk I had used to pretend to write in cursive handwriting while playing school.  I remember going for rides in her loooooooong blue-green car and I always wondered how it ever fit in her tiny little garage.

Of course, she was 72 when I was born, so most of my memories of her occurred when she was in her 80's.  When she left her house in Flint, she moved into my Nanu's house.  Sometimes, she'd come to spend a day or two at our house.  When we ate dinner, she would always let me sneak the things I didn't like onto her plate, which I thought was just about the best thing ever.  And if her mood was just right, we could get her talking about her past. She told so many stories of her brothers and sisters.  Her sister, Julia, died as a child and her brother, Charlie, was run over and killed by a boat while swimming in the Detroit River. It seemed like every time she'd re-tell these stories they'd change just a little bit, slowly becoming more elaborate as the years passed. I never tired of hearing them, though.  She experienced many heartaches in her life and yet she was always cheerful and upbeat.

My favorite memories of my Gigi are from the cabin.  She always drank her coffee from the same little cup and when she sat at the table, she'd have me get a pillow from the couch to sit on.  After breakfast was cleaned up, we'd play cards-just the two of us.  It's strange that there were five of us grandkids up there all the time but I was the only one who played cards with her every day.  We'd play Gin Rummy and she was the best.  She'd always tell me to "chest my cards" and if she got down on her luck she'd say, "Seven come eleven, my baby needs shoes and he won't get 'em if I lose.  Come you seven!"  I never had any idea what that meant but she said it without fail every time we played.  Usually, we'd take a break for lunch and at the cabin, happy hour is usually two or three hours, not just one.  She'd have Jim Beam and Diet Vernors and when she'd finish her drink, she'd shake the ice in the glass and proclaim, "A bird can't fly on one wing!"  That was my cue to make her one more.  Just one more.  And then my friends would show up to swim and we'd set the cards aside for the next day.  At night, when I'd come in from a chilly bonfire, she'd make me stick my hands in her armpits to warm them, which I thought was totally disgusting but totally worked, and if anyone was caught with a hole in their sock, she'd make you take it off so she could darn it right away.  That JanDon Lodge is still a big part of our family and I know we all feel her presence when we are there.

Although she is no longer with us, Gigi is remembered.  Our entire family talks about her often and my kids know her through photographs.  When I think of her now, I think of her big, fluffy white hair, her tiny little elastic silver wristwatch on her arm, and her warm smile and laugh.  I am thankful that I was able to spend so much time with her when I was younger and will always cherish her memory.

The Days of our Lives

Thirty Days of Thankfulness, Day 20

It's Sunday again; you know what that means! On Sundays, we do what we want. Today, miraculously, Jason and I woke up before any of the kids. We sat on the couch, drinking coffee and discussing our plans for the day. Jason had plans to finish a barn wood headboard for a Craigslist buyer and I was planning to get back to Owen's room (since it fell by the waside ALL week).  And then, the kids started trickling down the stairs and we were off to the races.

First up: Church. We hadn't been there as a family in a few weeks and I made sure to give everyone plenty of notice so the morning would go smoothly. We have a new pastor, with a lot of new ideas, and it has taken some time to adjust to the changes. During one part of the service, the congregation sits in silence, and if you have someone you're keeping in your prayers, you speak their name. During this time, Nash decided to proclaim very loudly that, "THIS IS SO BORING!"  Please tell me how you stifle laughter during quiet prayer time, because I certainly haven't mastered that yet...


Today, here in Michigan, it's 34 degrees with a windchill of 18-not exactly the weather you want to play outside all day in. So, Jason converted our dining room into a workshop and I headed upstairs to the land of crumbling plaster and mud. When I came downstairs, I asked the kids what they are thankful for this year. Here are their responses:

Owen: Our animals, my family, computers
Emerson: My friends, my family, Gypsy the cat
Greyson: All the dinners mom makes us AND NOTHING ELSE SO DON'T TRY TO MAKE ME THINK OF SOMETHING ELSE
Alayna: My family
Nash: Airplanes, hide-and-seek, milk

For dinner, I made chicken noodle soup, which Jason does not like because I put peas in it.  Instead, he had salad and sushi. Greyson, who hates all food and never tries anything new, loved the sushi, even with wasabi and ginger. Alayna, who is quite adventurous when it comes to food, went running to the trash can when she tried it. After dinner, we had pumpkin pie with Redi-whip on top. Only Owen are his entire piece of pie (along with half of Greyson's) and then everyone requested that Redi-whip be sprayed directly into their mouths.

Then, we declared tonight "game night" and Owen and Grey wound up in front of the checker board while Emerson and Alayna played Life and Nash made a long trail of Matchbox cars among the kids and games. By 7pm, the kids were getting rowdy and restless so we kicked them out of the family room so we could watch some basketball by the fire.

Right now, everyone is upstairs winding down for the night and getting ready for another Monday at school. I've got a glass of wine and Jason has a beer, there is Michigan State basketball on the television, there's a warm fire in the fireplace, and all is right in our little world.

This post might not seem like it's actually about much, but it is. This is a prime example of our everyday life. There was work and play and worship and togetherness. These are the days of our lives and I am thankful for them.