Love Like Reagen

One year ago today, a friend of mine from college lost her 10 year old daughter to malignant hyperthermia. Her name was Reagen. I never got to meet Reagen even though for a good portion of her life our families only lived about an hour apart. Her mom and I kept in touch and would talk about getting together, but life kept moving at light speed. Much of that time I was juggling therapies and school and doctor appointments for Jackson and trying to achieve as much of a routine as I could. Wrapped up in my own struggles, I just didn't ever think I would run out of time.

The night I learned of Reagen's death, I remember crumbling into tears. Jacob was next to me and didn't understand. It was so hard to look at him and explain as I thought about what it would be like to lose him.

Reagen had a very generous heart, she loved Jesus and dessert. Her parents say, when they were out to eat, she would often spend her own money to buy everyone dessert. They asked for those who would like to remember Reagen, to go out today on the anniversary of her death, buy someone a dessert, share Jesus and the love and generosity that Reagen loved to share.

We didn't go out to eat today, but after I dropped my oldest son off at baseball practice, I asked my younger two where they would like to have dessert. They both said Brain Freeze (a local frozen yogurt place). I wasn't sure it was the best idea for what I wanted to do, but I had already asked and couldn't back out now. There was no one there when we arrived, and no one came in while we were there. This would likely have to do with the super cold temps and the fact that it's December. The boy working the register, whose name was Cameron, said we were the 3rd customers all day. I was a little disappointed, but then as I was gathering Jackson and his sister to go, I decided maybe Cameron should be the one to love like Reagen. So, I shared Reagen's story, her parents' request and how much Jesus loved him. Then, I gave him a little gas money. By this point, I was crying, and I could see his eyes watering, too. We talked for a little bit, hugged and said goodbye. I didn't get to share a dessert, but I did get to share Reagen's story and Jesus' love.

Reagen's parents wanted to hear all the stories from those participating, and I wanted to share. Tonight, my heart is heavy for her sweet family and for all who knew her. As I pray for all of them tonight, I will look forward to meeting this precious girl who has touched the lives of so many people, many she never met. Because in Jesus, death is never the end. It's only the beginning.

My 30 Day Challenges for Spiritual Fitness

I mentioned in a previous post that if the 'fitness' of my spirit were to determine how I looked in heaven, that I'm afraid I would be pretty scrawny looking, a little like Olive Oil from PopEye (yes, I'm old enough to have watched that show, in reruns anyway). There are many, many 30 day challenges out there, most for your body, for every part of your body, from your ankle strength all the way up to your back and arms. There are even 30 day challenges for mental or creative improvement. While I don't think 30 days is enough time to really change your body or your life, for that matter, I do believe it is enough time to foster a habit that WILL change your life.

I've posted before about my habit in college (born out of a challenge from an evangelist), how I would read the Bible through every 3-6 months, and I think I've also posted about the time I spent praying or actually just talking to God when I was a child, hours of blissful companionship. I remember being much stronger in my faith during those times, and I believe it had much to do with the open communication, prayers going out, God's Word going in. If I told you the amount of time devoted to these two things in my life right now, you would fully understand why I think I would look so scrawny in heaven. I've shifted to an overwhelmed fussy 'Martha', and I need to be more like 'Mary'. I NEED to challenge myself again, and I thought I would share that challenge with you, too.

So, I put together two challenges for two spiritual disciplines, prayer and Bible reading. The prayer challenge is the tougher of the two, I think. It starts with 5 minutes the first day, but it builds adding 5 minutes each day until it totals 2.5 hours on day 30. Now, I am a wife and mother of 3 in 3 different schools. I run, attend church, and it's December. I don't get too many 2.5 hour blocks of time all to myself. While I would prefer going to my closet, kneeling and being able to focus my heart (something I truly recommend for at least the first 5 to 10 minutes of the challenge), there is no way I'll be able to do that for the entire duration by day 30. However, I do spend 5 hours in my car on Tuesdays and Fridays, much of it sitting in a car rider line. I do have time during the day as I wash dishes or fold laundry, time when I'm busy with my hands, but my mind and heart are free to pray. I can find those 2.5 hours out of the 24 God blesses me with each day, and I am committing myself to this challenge.

The Bible reading challenge is tough, as it will get you through the entire New Testament by day 31. I know it's not exactly 30 days. I did it for the month of December since that's the month we're in, and I thought that would be a cool way to start the new year. It looks daunting, but I timed myself reading the first day's challenge. 15 minutes. Now, some of the passages are longer on some days, and you may read slower or faster than me, but for the sake of this challenge, let's just say that we'll devote 30 minutes to reading scripture each day. 30 minutes. That could mean giving up your favorite sit com or some time on Facebook. It's worth it, trust me.

They're both pretty daunting lists, but like I've read on Pinterest over and over, "if it doesn't challenge you, it doesn't change you."

One more thing about the challenges. I will be doing both at the same time. God, help me! But, you can choose between the two. If you only take one, I would encourage you to take the prayer challenge and at least read a Proverb a day on top of your other reading plan. Taking the Bible reading challenge without devoting time to open your heart and mind to God, at least for me, seems to turn the reading into a chore, something we do just to check it off the list. Maybe if you take only the reading challenge, at least devote the same amount of time (30 minutes) to prayer beginning with a request for God to speak to you, and ending with praise and silence. Of course, I'm no spiritual expert, and I have no degree in theology or philosophy. I'm just a mom with a scrawny spirit who would like to improve her spiritual fitness, and I thought I would challenge others as I challenge myself.

31 Day Bible Reading Challenge

30 Day Prayer Challenge

If you would like me to pray for you and the challenge(s) you have chosen to do, leave a comment, and I will add you to my prayer challenge.

May God richly bless you as you seek to know Him better.

The Upside of Autism

I've had a lot to say about autism and how it affects my son and family over the past 5 years. I've even been heard saying I'm thankful for it. I'm sure any of you reading this that have a personal connection to this disorder can understand what I meant by that, but I want to retract and amend that statement. I'm not thankful for this disease. In actuality, I hate it, and that hatred grows every day.

I hate autism. I hate how it locks precious children inside themselves, how it hides so much of their spirit from a dark world that needs their light. I hate how it exhausts mothers, fathers and caretakers and leaves them struggling, frustrated and feeling so very alone. I hate how it drives families into isolation. I hate how it affects siblings, how they must learn in an almost backward way that love is selfless and sacrificial. I hate how it divides our families, our communities and our world. I hate how it changes and eludes our understanding. I hate its relentlessness and pervasiveness. I hate that it is so expensive and difficult to treat. I hate how it seems to bring out the ugliest of our ignorance. I hate how it awakens the worst in the least human of our society, those who prey on the week and helpless. I hate the day I first learned what it was and what it meant to my family, to my baby, and to my life. I hate autism, however….

I love my son. I love ALL his differences. I love how hard he's worked and how the struggle with autism has only made him stronger. I love how I have a special place in my heart for Thomas the Tank Engine, Lightening McQueen, Legos and all the other obsessions he's attached himself to over the course of his life. I love that he loves art and music. I love how wonderful it is that he and I can communicate without words when that language barrier proves too hard to break through. I love his laugh even when it's too loud. I love how he jumps and runs and all his other stims even when it causes people to stare. I love that he now 'over expresses' his feelings because he finally gets that I NEED to know and I can't see inside his head. I love the idea that he thinks in pictures, and I secretly wish I could understand what that's like. (I think I would like it.) I love all the wonderful teachers, doctors, psychologists, and therapists that have worked with him, every one selflessly obeying the calling in their life to make a tangible difference in the lives of children like Jackson and their families. I love what I've learned about myself, my husband, my children, and our family. I love how God has used my son's diagnosis to show me the ugliness of MY ignorance. I love how he opened my eyes to all the times I judged a mother struggling in public. I love how my initial response is now one of compassion not just for other mother's struggling, but for those judging them and me. I love how I've learned through this that each of us walk a different path filled with obstacles and difficulties impossible for others to see from the outside looking in. I love the conversations that I've been able to have with my children about how there are people in our world whose brains and bodies don't work like everyone else's, about how that does not make them less, and how they should never be treated as less. I love that each of my children better understand the concept of protecting the weak, and loving the different. I love that this struggle has ignited my fighter spirit, and seeing that same flame in Jackson, I know he'll be ok.

I hate autism, but I love the upside.

What is the upside to autism? That for all the evil it could throw at me, it has only made me a better mother, wife, friend and person, and for that I will be forever grateful.

Great Shoes! (Being able to walk is not a priority.)

[I typed this out around Mother's Day and never published it. I think because the pics didn't turn out so great. Oh, well, I'm pretty sure my days of snap shots turning into super hot photos accidentally are over. These days I need a whole day to get ready and a very patient photographer.]

Have you ever thrown yourself together for something special and received so many compliments you're embarrassed? And, do those complements ever make you wonder, "wow, what does this mean about how I look every other day?" Yeah, that was me during Mother's Day week this past year. My daughter had muffins with mom at her preschool, and I decided we would dress up for the occasion. She was adorable in her little striped dress and runny nose. I was rocking some super sexy heels and a clip in my hair. We were something else. My favorite complement from a super awesome lady working the front desk, "you're just all kinds of fine today." I'm gonna pretend she wasn't smiling and laughing while she said it. My thirty something, mother of three, married for more than a decade ego needed that. The best, though, was when my oldest asked me to wear my pretty dress to his mother's tea the next day. So, obviously I obliged, feeling confident it would all work out the same. Ha!

Day 1: "All kinds of fine"
[Yes, I do know there is snot coming out of her nose.
Yes, I do have photoshop. Yes, I do have the skills to 'fix' the photo.
No, I do not have the time. Plus, I'm on my mobile.]

Well, even though the outfit was already decided, and all I had to do was shower and fix my hair, you would think I would have been early or at least right on time. I was a little late, and subsequently rushing to get in the door. I had to cross gravel, grass and mud to enter the building the way the school prefers we enter for safety. I'm wearing the same sexy heels as the previous day, only today I wasn't rocking them so well. Gravel in my shoe, stumbling and fumbling, one of my shoes kept slipping off at the heel, and obviously, I couldn't be alone in my struggle. There were moms outside talking, some older children (his school is K-12), and a super nice teenage boy I know got a kick out of seeing me stumble in because, as he opened the door for me, I caught the smirk that indicated he was trying pretty hard not to laugh. I was clearly a sight to see. I swear I should have just gone in jeans and sneakers, but that sweet little boy wanted to show off his pretty mommy. And, I couldn't say no. I made it in, feeling as disheveled as if I had rolled out of bed and jumped in the car. The heels the dress, all of it made me feel so silly. Then I saw that smile. The boy who made me a mommy looked at me so proud and excited to see me that I nearly cried. He grabbed my arm to escort me in, and I forgot all about looking like I'd never worn a dress or a pair of heels before. Well, until now. It was a wonderful tea, and a nice reminder of how my life has changed.

Day 2: To me, frazzled and out of place. To him, "You look beautiful, Mommy."

THE SHOES: I know the pic is fuzzy, but they're still super cute!
I LOVE these heels. I do not love wearing them as I try to walk up hill across gravel and grass.

There are plenty of days I love painting my face, fussing with my hair and rocking a pair of sexy heels, but most days it's more about the smiles and those sweet little hands on my arm. I can honestly say that some of the moments I felt most beautiful were moments that would make a fashionista gasp. However, I wouldn't trade those precious gifts of time for a super model's body, hair or closet. Those moments will last forever, long after my feet no longer fit into these shoes.

My Brothers Failed Me

I'm the girl in the striped shirt.
My older brother is on my right. My cousin is on my left, and
my little brother is the one next to her.

At some point I'll stop posting about the half marathon, and start posting other things. However, today is not that day. Today I feel the need to discuss three things I don't know how to do that could have helped me during the race. Three things most brothers teach their sisters, or so I've heard. Three things my brothers did not teach me.

If you're not a runner or if you get grossed out easily, you might not want to continue reading. Just consider this your warning.

I grew up on a small farm. 20 acres, two creeks, lots of animals, and two brothers. I was the middle child and the only girl. I was the girl who liked playing in the mud, but usually wanted to dress like a princess as I played. I was a muddy primadona, a rough and tumble girly girl. Best of both worlds, right? I liked sports and dolls, wrestling and dancing, proper etiquette and burping my abc's. I learned a lot from my brothers, like how to throw a punch and a seriously good fast ball (something I've completely forgotten), make a bow and arrow out of a tree limb and spare string, and enjoy being outside living life like a kid is supposed to. Thing is, they didn't teach me three things I think would have helped me run faster or at least feel more comfortable in Saturday's race. That is why I must declare that they failed me. Let me explain in detail.

1. I've never peed in the woods. I know, right? How can you spend your summers barefoot, running through the woods and not pee behind a tree? I always went home, and this past Saturday, I had to pee at the start of the race. I held it til we got to the porta potties and stood in line. I lost a lot of precious time. Then as I passed wooded areas along the course, I saw runners making a mad dash for the trees. Actually a guy used a tree right next to the road, right next to us running. That was interesting. Anyway, I was jealous. Somehow that part of country living escaped me, and I wondered how I missed that. You might not think that falls into the 'brother teaching' realm, but I feel like they could have at least encouraged me a little.

2. I've never successfully hocked a loogie. I train with a girl who can hock and spit a perfect loogie six feet into the woods with no choking or dribbling. She says her brother taught her (AND she has no problem peeing in the woods). Before I started running, I would have been disgusted. Now, I'm jealous. Especially during the race when my saliva got thick and the act of swallowing was making me nauseous. Oh, I've tried. Trying to get the glob from my throat to the ground without choking or sliming myself has proven to be over my head. I even read an article from a runner's blog that detailed how to hock the perfect loogie. I followed every step and still couldn't manage anything but pathetic dribble while choking on the glob in my throat. I'm thinking maybe this is like learning a new language, when my brain and throat were primed to learn this skill, no one taught me. I blame my brothers.

3. I don't know how to shoot a snot rocket. Now this is another skill I could see no use for until I started running, but you can't carry a box of tissues with you on long runs or races. You can't properly use them and dispose of them even if you could carry the box. Blowing your nose into your shirt is just too disgusting to be done except in dire emergencies. And wiping the snot away with your hands and arms (what I had to do Saturday after I had used up my one Kleenex graciously given to me by my always prepared friend and training partner) is just as disgusting. So, what's left? Shooting a snot rocket, off course preferably into the woods. This is a lot like the loogie thing, there's a technique for getting it properly launched away from your face and body. I've only attempted this one time on a trail run. I'll spare you the details, but it wasn't pretty. I might as well have just used my shirt and my hands. Now, I can't actually tell you for sure that my brothers even have this skill. I don't think I've ever seen them shoot a snot rocket. So, I'm just assuming since they're men, it comes naturally. Don't most really disgusting things just come naturally to them?

I love my brothers. They were pretty great to me growing up, well minus smashing Junebug shells in my hair. I may never forgive them for that. All in all they were pretty respectful of my being girly and liking it. But, in teaching me gross boyish things that could help me on my quest to conquer race distances most people think are crazy. Well, in that, they failed me.

I'm coming in behind the curve here, and I may never figure it out. Thanks guys!

My Scrawny Spirit

[Imagine a cleverly drawn cartoon with a witty caption.

If I waited for the time to execute the idea I have in my head for this, I would never post again.]

If you haven't noticed, I started the NaBloPoMo excited to post every day, and only made it a week in before I let it slide. Granted, the first day I didn't post was the day of my half marathon. That day was a doozie. First I didn't sleep much; as in, I dozed maybe an hour, woke with my nervous stomach at about 3am, and pretty much just laid there and stressed about the race all night. Then I ran harder and faster than I had run in about 6 weeks due to my ankle injury. That resulted in severe pain about mile 11, but I finished! 2:16:35 was my official time. Not my goal of under 2 hours, but under the circumstances I'll take it. I then hobbled around Savannah the rest of the afternoon shopping and eating (well, wandering until we found food would be a better description) before driving 5 hours back home. I was busy and exhausted. So, I'll give myself a pass for that day, but the other six. Not so much.

I'm horrible at following through and pushing myself in my commitments. I make and use excuses WAY to easily, and it seems like I'm constantly letting myself and those around me down, not in the big things but in way too many little things. The big things, that's another story.

I've been a Christian for 27 years, and while I've battled with doubts in the church, I've never doubted Jesus is who he said he was or that he did what he said he did for me. I stuck with my major all the way through college and continued with it into grad school. I've been married for 11 years. I've been a stay at home mom for 7 years. So, I CAN stick with some things, but looking at those things in detail, they seem to be things that are just as hard to quit as they are to hold on to. Most other things, the things that are easier to quit than to continue, the ones I can find and make a good excuse for, those are the things I can't seem to stay committed to.

Aaaand……then there's running. This would definitely qualify as one of those easier to quit than continue things. I could come up with a billion excuses to quit running, but I've stuck with it. Oh, now, I gave up about a hundred times that first month. I can remember talking to myself on the treadmill, "who does this for fun?" "Runners are nuts." "I must be doing it wrong." "My crooked legs weren't made for running." [Little known fact, I had braces on my legs when I was a small child.] "Oh, God, it hurts! Why can't I do what nearly every kid on a playground does effortlessly?" "I'm broken." "Am I supposed to be this sore?" "I've injured myself." "I quit." But something inside me kept screaming over all those other voices, "No! You can't give up. Not this." Well, that's the voice I listened to, and I kept going. I pushed through the pain, the struggle, the juggling of kids and schedules and homework and housework. I pushed through that first race and found I was hooked. I was immediately looking for the next race, the next training plan, the next path on this journey. I've run several 5ks. I ran the Peachtree Road Race (10k). This past weekend, I ran my first half marathon, and I'm getting ready to start training for my first marathon. 26.2 miles, and I guarantee sometime during my training, I'll want to give up. Definitely during the race, I'll likely hit the wall and have an internal temper tantrum. If you could have a mic in my head during the race, I'm sure it would be quite entertaining listening to me wrestle with all these voices and the occasional, "ooh, I like her shoes….I want a donut….squirrel." Hopefully, though, the mental and physical endurance I've built during training will kick in and the voice that says 'don't quit' will still be louder than all the others.

All that got me thinking. Why exactly is running the exception to my committment issues? Why is it so important for me to keep going?

I've seen a pin floating around pinterest's health and fitness section that caught my eye. I can't find it currently. So, I'm gonna paraphrase from memory and add my own two cents.

"A well-built physique is a status symbol, not because it conforms to a certain standard of beauty but because it is rare. You cannot buy it. You cannot inherit it. You cannot steal it. You cannot borrow it or hold onto it without constant work. It shows dedication. It shows discipline. It shows self respect. It shows self restraint, dignity, patience, work ethic and passion. It isn't the body alone that is so attractive, it is the person within that body that makes it the status symbol it is."

My initial goal when I started running was to run a 5k and get a little healthier. I was inspired by The Oxygen Mask Project and my husband's initial interest. I was motivated to be healthy for my kids, to be strong and vibrant as they and I grow older. There was a little fear mixed in, too, when I thought about what would happen to my autistic son if I were unable to care for him. However, as I started to see and feel my body change, and began to understand the difference between skinny and fit, I started craving bigger challenges and harder workouts. After the 5k came the 10k, then the half marathon. Next up is a 30k and a full marathon. I'm even trying to figure out how to do a triathlon next year. Weight lifting and HIIT, yoga and tabata. The stronger I become the stronger I want to be. I love that feeling, accomplishing a goal and feeling my body strengthen with every challenge.

I don't need a European sports car or diamonds or extravagantly expensive clothes or handbags. But a well built physique, that's a status symbol I want, and I'm willing to do what it takes to get it. I will run and lift and work and eat right. I want to look strong, feel strong and BE strong. While that isn't the only reason I run, and definitely not why I started, I think it's the biggest reason. There is also the fact that I love to race. The atmosphere of each race is addicting, and I find myself more and more drawn to the experience. I actually LIKE to run now. I like the physical act of running. It clears my head and makes me feel accomplished. I also take great pride in my commitment to running. I'm proud of myself and my internal drive. I've surprised myself, and I hope I'm able to keep surprising myself.

So, back around to the stinking at commitment thing. Where's the connection? One of my favorite podcasts to listen to is Ravi Zacharias. He's a Christian apologist born in India and based in Atlanta who is respected all over the world by many different religious leaders. He is known for having an uncompromising faith that he shows in everything he does, and for speaking the truth he unwaveringly believes with such love and respect that even those who are vehemently apposed to Christianity will listen to and respect him. He has spoken on spiritual and mental disciplines on his radio broadcast "Let My People Think", about how they're much like physical discipline. You must discipline yourself in prayer, faith, learning, commitment and _________ [insert positive character quality here]. These things don't just come naturally. They must be sought out and put to use. You cannot become spiritually strong unless you exercise your spirit. You cannot become mentally strong unless you exercise your brain. Use it or lose it, so to speak.

What keeps me married in the hard and hopeless times? The fear of divorce and all the destruction it brings. What keeps me at home with my kids even when I feel like I've been degraded to thankless menial work for tiny little tyrants? The fear of doing this whole parent thing wrong and my children having to pay the consequences for it. What kept me in graphic design even when I questioned whether it was the best path for me? What else would I do, and how do I know I would be any better at something else (why does it matter now anyway, I do laundry, dishes and chauffeur kids around all day)? Why do I continue to follow Jesus? Because he has proven himself over and over again to me, and if he isn't real, then I'm afraid nothing is. Why do I keep running? Because I'm afraid of going back to my old weak sedentary life.

What in my character allows me to break commitments that don't have those kinds of consequences? Apathy, I don't care or fear the 'little' consequences, and I lack spiritual endurance when my character is the only thing at stake.

I don't actually care. I can't, or I would use what keeps me committed to running to keep other commitments as well. So what….I committed to posting every day. It's not like anyone who doesn't know and love me in real life actually reads this blog. They'll be alright without a daily post from me. So what….I committed to cooking at home and not eating out this week. The kids (with the exception of Jackson) would rather eat out anyway. So what….I committed to reading and studying that book or area of interest. I just don't have the time, and I'd rather relax, i.e. obsess about how overwhelmed I am and just collapse on the couch or bed and refuse to actually DO life.

First I don't care like I should, but then even when I do really care, I lack the spiritual endurance I need to push through the doubt and negative voices, at least when there is no fear of giant consequences. I can't push through if I'm not really afraid of what might happen. Building a strong spirit that will push through even when it is only my character that suffers is not as important to me as that obstacle is hard.

I feel like I'm typing in circles, and using the word 'so' way too much. How 'bout if I take that statement of a well built physique and tweaked it a little. I think it might help. If you've read this far and are still following me, you deserve a medal or at least a hug. Remind me the next time I see you. :-) Anyway, my adapted quote….

A well cared for spirit is of great value, not because it conforms to a certain standard of morality but because it is rare. You cannot fake it. You cannot buy it. You cannot inherit it. You cannot steal it. You cannot borrow it or hold onto it without constant work. It shows dedication. It shows discipline. It shows self respect and consequently exudes true respect for the spirit of others. It shows self restraint, dignity, patience, work ethic and passion. The body alone gives little value to the whole person, but the spirit is where lies all that makes us who we are.

The status symbol of a well cared for body only matters while we're in THIS body. When we leave it behind, the condition of our spirit will be all that truly matters. If the condition of my spirit here determined how I looked in heaven, would I be fit or scrawny when I got there? I think I want to shoot for fit. Is there a marathon plan for spiritual fitness? I may have to get back to you on that.

Race Day Eve

I know this is another really bad iPhone photo, but this was the dressing room at the Rock 'N' Roll Expo tonight. If you're a runner, then you get why I think this is so funny. Maybe not, but I do. :-)

Some random thought about my day.

I left my house in a whirlwind.

I probably forgot something very important I will realize as I'm dressing in the morning.

I are too much dinner.

I'm worried about the bathroom issues after eating so much.

I'm exhausted but not sleepy.

I had so much fun laughing and talking with the other mommy runners that my face kinda hurts.

I would have gotten lost walking around Savannah in the dark if they weren't with me.

I'm really bad at parallel parking my suv.

I miss my babies.

I'm really worried about the bathroom issues from eating so much dinner so late.

No really. I'm worried. Like seriously.

And I'm on my phone typing this out so I can stay on track with this whole NaBloPoMo thing.

First half marathon tomorrow.

I WILL be pasting that sticker on the back if my car before I drive home tomorrow.

Throwback Thursday

This photo is from about a year ago. It is a photo of my daughter on a particularly long, yucky day, and it perfectly depicts the level of exhaustion I feel right now. Besides death or serious disease, I can't really think of how this day could have gone worse. Nothing went as planned. I felt frustrated and stressed out most of the day, and I spent quite a bit of it grumbling to myself about how I have to do so much by myself. We tease Jackson about sounding like Eeyor from Winnie the Pooh. Well, that was me today, except moving around really fast like Tigger at the same time. What was the plan?

Well, it's the Thursday before a Saturday race. The half marathon I've been training for for months. This Thursday was supposed to be eating and relaxing, giving my body that last little boost before the race. What did I do in stead? Too much!!! And, I'm hungry. However, in the spirit of the season, I should look back on the last half marathon I signed up for and didn't get to race due to a combo of illness and injury.

Tomorrow, Lord willing, I will travel to one of my favorite cities to race one of the most popular race series in a distance I've yet to conquer. I'm healthy and, as of the typing of this post, uninjured. I may not reach my time goal, but by George, it's happening! So, I'm gonna say a little thank you to my God and my body for putting up with me today, and I'm gonna lay down and close my eyes. Tomorrow is another day.

Veggie Power

Check out this yummy kale my mom gave me fresh from her garden today!

[sorry for yet another crummy iPhone photo, I still haven't unloaded my CF card]

She gave me kale and I made a salad. I figured I would share how I make my own salad and dressing.

First I start with whatever greens I feel like using. Today it's kale, obviously. Whatever other veggies looked good from the market. Today that's tomatoes and broccoli. I know I might be breaking all kinds of pairing rules, but the point is to eat what you like, that is available and as local as possible. I try to add a protein of some kind. Today is pecans. Mmmmm. Makes me think of pie and Thanksgiving, but I digress. Then the dressing.

Equal parts oil and vinegar. I use olive oil and apple cider vinegar mostly, but I've also tried balsamic and grape seed oil. The apple cider vinegar is super healthy, and the olive oil helps your body better absorb the licopene in the tomatoes. So, that's my go to combo. Sweeten with honey to taste. Add a little acid. In this case I used lime juice. Pour over the salad and toss with salt and fresh cracked pepper, and its a meal. Of course today I'm carb loading for the race Saturday, so I'm eating a bowl of brown rice and quinoa, too.

The fact that I haven't had a single piece of candy or junk food since the 1st means I'm slowly conquering this sugar addiction one meal at a time. Of course, wanting to feel like a million bucks when I run this race Saturday has a lot to do with it.

I don't eat healthy to LOOK a certain way. I eat healthy to FEEL a certain way. Running has proven to me over and over again that the quality of my runs/workouts and my ability to push that extra 10 minutes or conquer that daunting hill, it is all connected to the kind of food I put in my body. All calories are not created equal. Now if I could just remember that AFTER I cross the finish line. :-)

Hot for the Holidays

It's November. The painted leaves are falling. There's a crispness in the air and a chill in the breeze. And, in case you miss the more subtle clues, Christmas decorations are EVERYWHERE! The Holiday season is upon us, and Thanksgiving is my favorite. Family, food and being thankful, *sigh* I look forward to it every year.

As we get closer, and holiday parties and school functions start happily cluttering up the calendar, I need more caffiene. Not being one for coffee, I prefer tea. But, the Holidays often call for a little more than tea and honey. With the chill in the air and the thought of family gatherings and good food, I start craving a desert type beverage, preferably HOT. Apple cider, hot chocolate, lattes and pumpkin flavored everything, oh I love it all. Thing is, its hard to find less processed versions of some of these things. I love true hot cocoa/chocolate made from bars and melted low and slow with milk and cream, but I rarely have time for all that.

The iPhone photo above (my camera is currently full of baseball photos, and I haven't had the energy to unload it yet) shows my two favorite hot drinks and I'll tell you how I tweak them for the Holidays.

The Silly Cow Farms Hot Chocolate fits in the five ingredient or under rule, and it tastes like the slow melted real deal. Add a little hand whipped cream and a peppermint stick or a dash of cinnamon, and you've got a super yummy Holiday inspired treat. Tazo Chai Tea Latte concentrate is a nice alternative to coffee, and being a concentrate, you can blend it with different milks and flavorings to make your own special drink. I make mine with half coconut milk and add a little pumpkin pie spice for my own version of a pumpkin spice latte.

They do contain sugar. So, if you're on a low or no sugar diet, these would be just for a special occasion, but they're way better than the corn syrup powder that comes in the packets.

I have only seen the Silly Cow Hot Chocolate at Whole Foods, but the Tazo chai concentrate is available at Kroger and Publix, and I would imagine other regular grocery stores as well. FYI: I've tried the chocolate chai concentrate and didn't like it very much. I have combined these two drinks successfully, though. Make the hot chocolate and add the concentrate for a spicy little caffeine kick. Yum.

If you have a suggestion for a hot Holiday drink, I would love to hear about it.

NaBloPoMo

I was scrolling through my favorite blogs while waiting on Jackson at music therapy, and I stumbled on a post about how to survive NaBloPoMo. My first reaction was, "ooooh, is that a disease I have never heard of? I have to click." Turns out it's not a disease but a challenge. November is National Blog Posting Month. I know, right? Who knew? I didn't. In case you haven't heard of it either, it's a challenge to bloggers to post once a day for the month of November. I'm a little behind already, but I think I might want to be in on this. So, sorry to my followers who follow for quality content. Alright now, I can pretend I have followers who are not related to me who follow for quality. I can pretend anything, like how super hot I look in my giant sweatshirt, pony tail, skinny jeans and bear claw boots right now. Anything is possible in my head. However, I do feel the need to warn you this might be a shallow, silly month.

Anyway, after I discovered that NaBloPoMo wasn't a disease, I started to go through all my saved drafts and see what I could salvage and make notes for other ideas. Then I actually read the rest of the post I clicked on. Yes, I'm one of those surfers. It's the millennial generation in me. I have a very difficult time paying attention online. Where was I? Oh, yeah. So, I used one of the suggestions and googled writing prompts. I'm in heaven! I really think I should have been a writing major. I scrolled through post after post of creative writing assignments and prompts, I was almost giddy thinking about trying all of them. Then I started thinking I should do them with my kids. Then I came to my senses and realized they would HATE me if I tried to do that, but that doesn't mean I can't grab one of those ideas and run with it. So, here is my first post committing to writing 30 posts this November. One a day. First a disease, then a vitamin. I think it works.

So, here's hoping this doesn't turn out to be another one of those things I jump into and then abandon because I never learned how to juggle. November is a crazy month. Here we go.

The Big Brother

This blog is mostly about food allergies and autism, the two things that have almost single handedly consumed my life for the past 7 years or so. There's a little about my personal oxygen mask project (i.e. running) along with my family and faith, too, but it's mostly short sporadic moments of venting or sharing whatever struggle is facing me that day. When I started writing here, I wasn't sure I wanted to mention my other children. I wasn't sure I wanted to share their lives along with all this, but it's not just my life or Jackson's, but theirs, too. It all intertwines, and we've made it work. Remember that light I mentioned in my last blog post? The one at the end of the tunnel, that blinding scary light? Yeah, well, that light has illuminated more than just the path ahead but the changes that have taken place as our family has grown.

Today is my oldest son's birthday. He's 9. One more year, and I'll have a child in double digits. For some reason that makes me feel old. My oldest (typically developing) son is a very kind, sweet, loving boy with a silly sense of humor and a heart of gold. He spent most of his young little life tagging along as we struggled through all of his brother's medical and developmental problems, and I don't remember him complaining much. The first thing he got to do that was just for him was baseball when he was 5, and for the record, Mommy was the one that insisted he play. We didn't have the money or the time, but I couldn't tell him no anymore. He's now playing travel ball and could easily spend hours practicing every day. He's smart and healthy and a great snuggler even though he's nearly as big as I am. I look forward to watching him grow and become a man. I don't know if it goes along with being the big brother, being a special needs sibling or if it's just who he is (maybe the combination of all three), but he has a very strong protective nature and patience that makes me marvel some days. He's one of the best things that has ever happened to me, and I just had to share how thankful I am for him and all he does to help me. Happy birthday, Jacob!

A boy is truth with dirt on its face,

Beauty with a cut on its finger,

Wisdom with bubble gum in its hair,

And the hope of the future with a frog in its pocket.

Unknown

Laying Down the Fight

Tonight by midnight, Jackson's Medicaid Deeming Waiver review paperwork is due. I did the initial online review, but they sent a paper packet after I finished that, asking for the usual fiery hoop jumping. I panicked at first, but decided I've jumped through these hoops and done this dance several times before. I can totally handle it, and I'm sure I could. This time though, I wasn't so sure I needed to.

We've been told since the first year of his diagnosis that with his exponential progress with therapy and educational resources we could expect him to 'grow out' of therapy. We were told he wouldn't be a lifer, but you can never pin down a timeline on these things. So, we plugged away sometimes wondering if there would ever be light at the end of that tunnel. Then it came, blinding and scarier than the darkness of the tunnel entrance.

I freaked out! First it was private speech therapy. "There is just no more I can do for him clinically," his therapist told us. Then it was school occupational therapy. Same deal. Then his resource teacher at his school (who is VERY close to us) told us he no longer needed to be pulled out of class for special instruction, and she felt he would benefit more from the time in his regular ed classroom. The last one was tougher, though. His private OT very gently told me she didn't know how much longer Jackson would need her. "He's doing SO well!" I know it should have been encouraging, but it was terrifying.

We didn't 'cure' him. The autism is still there. Trust me. It rears it's ugly head, I think, sometimes just to make sure we don't get too comfortable with progress. Jackson is still not as strong as he should be at his age. He still has trouble with fine motor dexterity, especially with heavy resistance. His social skills are still not where they should be, and he STILL has trouble with all the sensory issues that go with toileting. What do you mean, you don't know how much longer he's gonna need you? He is still delayed. He is still struggling. He's still autistic. Autistic children need therapy.

But, this is his life. At some point, he has to take responsibility for his own growth, and in so many ways he has. He's learning and working so hard, just like always. He makes enormous strides every day, and blows me away at how adaptable he has become. If you had seen him the day of his diagnosis and I had told you that he would be growing out of therapy in 2nd grade, you wouldn't have believed me.

It took about a year for me to truly see how far he has come, and I'm once again reminding myself, this process isn't about curing him. All we've gone through until now, all the doctor visits and psych evals, all the therapy, the deeming waiver battles, the IEP's and special classrooms, the medications and special diets, all this was not done to cure him but to equip him to live a happy, fulfilling life.

The struggle isn't over. He will have many more battles to face, but with each day that passes, his strength to fight these battles on his own increases.

We took the summer off OT to see how he would do, and we met with his OT early this week to assess where he was after taking such a long break. We both agreed he no longer needed regular OT appointments. This time, I didn't feel blinded by the light as we stepped out of the tunnel. This time I was encouraged and excited about the new leg of our journey.

Without regular OT, I couldn't justify Medicaid for him (Medicaid doesn't cover music therapy which he will continue for a while). So, I'm laying down this fight, one I've fought for a very long time, and tonight, when I would normally be up worrying if I had jumped through those hoops just right, I'm enjoying this small window of peace before the next battle.

Looking forward to sweet sleep and a brand new day.

Buttermilk Waffles

These waffles are topped with fresh whipped cream, honey, blueberries and strawberries.

I've been making waffles for Jackson since we discovered his food allergies. There are NOT any frozen waffles or waffle mixes on the market that are safe for him that don't taste like cardboard. He has always loved every recipe I've ever made him from gluten and dairy free to the egg free version that completely flopped my taste bud test. So, telling you that this recipe is the bomb because he thinks so isn't gonna mean a whole lot. He just loves anything you can put syrup and whipped cream on. However, telling you that this recipe rocks because my 'natural food is gross' opinionated hubby likes them means this recipe is a keeper.

So, the original recipe is from Cooks Illustrated (LOVE my subscription), but I had to change it a little (don't I always).

Anyway, I will share with you that they said one of the secrets to good buttermilk waffles is a thick batter, and taking the extra time to whip the egg whites and fold them in really does make a difference.

1 1/4 Cup Unbleached All-Purpose Flour
3/4 Cup Whole Wheat Pastry Flour (you can play with this mixture, this is the ratio I need to get my picky hubby to eat them and not complain that they taste like whole wheat bread)
1 tsp Sea Salt
2 tsp Baking Soda
2 Eggs, separated
1 3/4 Cup Buttermilk
4 Tbsp Unsalted Butter, melted

Heat the waffle iron. Whisk dry ingredients together in a medium bowl. Combine the buttermilk and butter in a small bowl and whisk in the egg yolks. In a medium bowl, beat the egg whites until they hold a 2 inch peak. Add the buttermilk mixture to the dry ingredients in a thin steady stream while gently mixing with a rubber spatula. Gently fold in the egg whites until combined.

Spread or drop the batter onto the waffle iron following the manufacturer's instructions. Cook until golden brown, about 2-5 minutes.

These work well, frozen, too. If you know that you're going to freeze them and want to use your toaster to reheat and crisp them up, cook them until just about done but not all the way browned. That way, when you pop them in your toaster, they'll finish browning and be nice and crispy.

Makes 10-12 regular sized waffles.

Super yummy!

11 Years, and a Prayer

15 years ago at my church graduation party, this boy (who used to annoy me to no end) gave me a box of cards with a book of stamps, his Auburn address and a sweet note requesting I keep in touch. That small, sweet gesture changed my life forever. Eventually, I used those cards, and he wrote back. Pretty soon we were talking on the phone for hours (annoying my roommates) and planning weekend visits together. The rest is history, and today marks eleven years since I walked down the isle to that annoying boy. ;-)

A sweet old lady once offered some advice to this new bride. She told me the love that flutters in your stomach and dances around in your head, that's not the real thing, or at least not the whole thing. That might be where it starts, but the real thing is waking up one day realizing all the glamour of the wedding and honeymoon is over. Understanding that you can't dress yourself up and hide the crazy anymore. Seeing each other for the often imperfect, sometimes annoying, increasingly unsightly, ever changing human beings you really are. And choosing to love each other anyway. That's the real thing. And, the longer I'm married, the more I'm convinced there really is more to the kind of love you choose than the kind you fall into.

As I was thinking about what to blog tonight, I thought about typing out a story from the past eleven years, something funny or sad, something sweet or just plain sappy, but I think I would like to type out a prayer, for him and me and the next eleven years.

An Open Prayer for my Husband:

I pray for God to grant you wisdom and courage to lead and guide our family. I pray that God would continue to work through you in the lives of your patients, your friends, your family and our community. I pray that God would protect you and strengthen you so that your children will always have a father to go to when life is scary or confusing or hard. I pray that He would give you good health so I never have to worry about raising them on my own. I pray that your arms are always open and your heart is always full. I pray that someday we can look at our grown children and growing family and be glad we chose each other all those years ago. I pray that as you reach the end of your journey and look back at the life you lived you have no regrets.

I pray that God gives you grace to forgive me when I fail you, when my attitude reflects contempt and resentment, and when I let the stress of life come between us.

I pray that every new day God gives us, we continue to choose each other. I pray that the hand I'm holding when its all over is yours.

I pray for another eleven years, and another and another.

Happy anniversary, Baby!

The Weird Kid

Jackson and I were grocery shopping today. Just the two of us, two birds of a feather. His job was holding the shopping list, and mine was pushing the cart. He really enjoys being in charge of the list, he controls where we go and what goes in the cart. Well, that is unless Mommy puts things on the list in the wrong order or remembers something that isn't on the list. Then he jokingly scolds, "Mommy?!" and either draws arrows to where the item should have been on the list or writes in the missing item just so he can cross it off.

Did I mention he also gets to hold the pen? He loves crossing things off. In fact, I think he might like that as much as his mommy, who may or may not put some things on lists that don't really need to be there just so she can cross them off and feel like she's accomplishing more than she really is. Yeah, see, thats what I mean by birds of a feather. That's my boy, y'all! Same wavelength.

Anyway, we're walking along, and he crosses off the wrong item on the list. He stops and says, "Oh, I'm dumb." He explains, and I reply, "You're not dumb. You know I don't like using that word when we're talking about people. You made a mistake. Mommy's made ten of those since we walked in the store." His reply, "Yeah, but I'm the weird kid.

[Pause for effect]

Cue the rising of my internal mama bear. Who told my baby he's weird? Who? I'll show them 'weird' and several other more colorful adjectives. Just le'me at um.

[A few seconds to process]

Cue the over explaining lesson giver that wants to stop him right there in front of God and everybody and talk about how 'weird' is what people say when someone is different than everyone else, different from them in a way that they don't understand. But, being just like everyone else means you're hiding who you really are. Who wants to be 'normal'? 'Normal' people don't find cures for deadly diseases or write novels people still read and talk about centuries after they're dead. 'Normal' people don't paint ceilings in cathedrals or write music that calms the mind. 'Normal' people don't deliver life saving medicine, healthy food or clean water to the forgotten people on our planet. 'Normal' people don't change the world. They don't even make a ripple in the lives around them. They live and die never accomplishing more than fitting in. I wanted to tell him how I LOVE that he's different, and how I've NEVER wanted him to be 'normal'.

And I did, later.

First, though, that word started flooding my mind. All the references and uses I've made. 'How weird is that?' 'Don't pick your nose. That's weird.' When I thought about it, I figured out that he could have just put together all the things I said were weird, things he probably does and made the inference (crazy how he can do that sometimes now, you autism moms know what I'm talking about, that's a big deal). He could have decided he was weird just from what I have said to him or around him.

Cue the mommy guilt.

There's another word that has been floating around in debate these days, and I never understood just how hurtful it can be until my Jackson was diagnosed with autism. We don't say it in our house, and I don't know if Jackson has ever even heard it, yet anyway. If you don't know the word I'm talking about, its 'retarded'. It's not a bad word, not profanity or vulgar, but it can be a hurtful word all the same. Not just to the mommies and daddies and caregivers and others who love someone with disabilities, but to the disabled themselves. They may not hear and understand or process the way we do, but they get it. They know what it means. And that one word thrown at them carelessly can define how they see themselves even if you never meant for it to.

How does a 7 year old boy with autism decide he's the weird kid? Because in this world, even in our home where I've done all I can to make a safe comfortable place for my babies to grow up, we define normal with our words and actions and demand conformity. He's getting to the point in his development where he sees just how different he is, and words thrown around carelessly, they land differently on his little ears.

"Death and life are in the power of the tongue."

Proverbs 18:21

I want my words to give life, inspiration and encouragement to my children. I don't ever want to tear them down or make them feel inferior.

So, this kid's on a mission. After all, we've got more stuff to put in the cart and cross off this 'weird' list so we can go home and get back to more important things like building lego towers and eating ice cream (which is last on the list because it melts).

As my head swirls from the whirlwind of thoughts, he hasn't skipped a beat, and I tell him, "You're not weird. You're the best kind of different there is, and I love you."

Changing the World in 30 Some Odd Years

I haven't blogged in a while. There's lots going on in my life and my kitchen, but the energy and time to put it out there in a way you might want to read it, it's just not there. I am journaling and reading, and I will often think to myself, "I need to share that." However, nothing ever seems to get typed, and if it does, somehow sharing doesn't feel right by the time I get to the end of the post. There have been several posts I decided to just save for another day.

So, to sum all that up. I'm stuck. Pretty much the same place I was when this post was written. That was 3 years ago. I've struggled more with this birthday than any before. I think partly because I'm still dealing with many of the same things that I've been struggling with since childhood. I feel like I should be so much farther along than I am. Seriously, if I were a baby failing to develop and grow, there would be panic. I know all about that kind of panic with Jackson's developmental delays. But, see when you're a grown up, and the delay is spiritual, you can hide it all by simply going through the motions and smiling.  Just laugh every now and then, say something spiritual and profound once in a while, and everyone thinks you're doing great. I also think I'm struggling with this birthday because being stuck like I am, I'm reminiscing and thinking about my childhood and the person I wanted to be and the things I wanted to do. I was gonna change the world, Y'all, and somehow 30 some odd years seemed like plenty of time to do it. Oh, to have that kind of imaginative faith again.

Life comes in seasons, and I know that this, too, shall pass. And, when it does, I'll let you know.

Anyway, back to the point of this post.

I'm reading several books right now. One is Running The Edge by Adam Goucher and Tim Catalano. I bought it because I read Olympic marathoner Kara Goucher's book Running for Women and LOVED it! I kinda thought her husband's book would be just as good. Well, it's a little heavy on the psychology and humanistic philosophy for me, but not a bad read. I prefer runners to write about running, but you know, I'm weird like that. Anyway, there are some really great points and stories inside. Today I read a quote that really spoke to me, and I thought I would share it for my birthday. (One day late. Shh.)

"Among the crypts in Westminster Abbey, there is an inscription on the tomb of an Anglican bishop.

"When I was young and free and my imagination had no limits, I dreamed of changing the world. As I grew older and wiser, I discovered the world would not change, so I shortened my sights somewhat and decided to change only my country.

But it, too, seemed immovable.

As I grew into my twilight years, in one last desperate attempt, I settled for changing only my family, those closest to me, but alas, they would have none of it.

And now, as I lie on my deathbed, I suddenly realize: If I had only changed myself first, then by example I would have changed my family.

From their inspiration and encouragement, I would then have been able to better my country, and who knows, I may have even changed the world."

I love this inscription, and will now add my thirty-something-whipper-snapper thoughts on it. To truly change the world you have to start with yourself, and focus on being obedient to the One who created you and the calling he gave you. I think there would be many more world changers among us if we would let Him change us BEFORE we try to conquer the world. Otherwise, you just get discouraged and burnt out....and stuck.

Jacob's No Bake Cookies

My oldest son is in 2nd grade, and one of his recent assignments was a how-to paper. After thinking for a while and knowing that his dad and I (and his teacher) would probably say no to anything baseball, he decided he wanted to make no-bake cookies. "Like the ones Daddy makes." (He says this because Mommy doesn't make no-bake cookies because mommy doesn't like no-bake cookies. Shhh. I ate his and loved them. ;-)

Daddy makes his sister's recipe, which turns out to be the go-to recipe I've seen floating around Pinterest lately (found here).

The only thing is that this recipe calls for the use of the stove and boiling things. Not really safe for a clumsy absent minded 8 year old. After all, he IS his mother's son. So, working together we adapted the recipe to the microwave AND added a 'secret ingredient'. He was able to make these by himself with only a little supervision. How cool is that? I'm raising a chef....or at least a kid who might be happy to help his mommy in the kitchen, wahoo!

So, here it is, exactly the way it appeared in his finished paper.

Do you like chocolate and peanut butter? If so, then here is a kid friendly recipe for how to make No Bake Cookies. 

½ cup butter
2 cups sugar
½ cup milk
4 Tbsp cocoa
½ cup peanut butter
3 to 3 ½ cup quick cooking oats
2 tsp vanilla

First combine butter, sugar, milk and cocoa in a medium microwave safe bowl. Microwave until butter is melted, about 3 minutes, stirring every minute or so. Then microwave for about 30 seconds more, until bubbly. Then quickly add the last ingredients. Add the secret ingredient. Scoop out onto wax paper, and allow to cool. Finally eat.

Here are some more pics.

What bubbly looks like coming out of the microwave.

All mixed up and ready to scoop.

Jacob chose white chocolate chips for the secret ingredient. They melted, but marbled in. So, it looked like a mistake at first, but turned out to be a pretty good choice in the end. I ended up dipping my fingers in water and pushing them down into disks after he scooped them all out.

The Right Shoes Make All the Difference in the World

I've been running since March of 2012 as part of my own personal Oxygen Mask Project, and I just suffered my first blister after Thanksgiving. I was wearing Brooks Ravenna 3, and loved them so far. I reasoned that my decision to up the miles in preparation for a half marathon was the culprit for my sudden discomfort, but I wanted to make sure I had the right shoes. I went to a large running chain in our area. I figured since their logo is on every race t-shirt I've received so far, and a friend highly recommended them, I should give it a shot.

Their fitting process involves computer mapping your feet and running on a tread mill. It was strange running in front of someone for the purpose of buying shoes. Nevermind the fact that the person helping me looked like he was barely 16. I'm pretty sure after our conversation, he was at least an upper classman in college. I don't know because I didn't ask, and I sure wasn't going to tell him how old I was. Besides, I think my age radar is broken. Funny how the older you get, the younger everyone else looks. Anyway, the video of my stride, how my foot pronates when I land, how a motion control shoe would be the best for me, it was all very interesting. I bought some neon, motion control shoes.

I'm pretty sure if I ran at night in these, I would glow in the dark.

First run in the new shoes, awesome. Compliments galore. Then, I started to feel soreness in my feet I had never felt before. I decided I just needed to break them in, but the more I ran, the more pain I felt. Then I started suffering some of the same issues I felt when I had first started running, plus pain in the under inside part of my calf. Could they be the wrong shoes? But, he 'tested' me. How are they the wrong shoes? Am I pushing myself too hard? What's the deal?

I shared my frustration with a friend who is more of a natural runner, and she thought my feet were just fine the way God made them and I should try running in a shoe that allowed my feet to do what they were designed to do. (Pause for a second to think about the fact that most creatures in nature that rely on running to eat or survive have padded or hooved feet. I have neither. Does that mean I'm crazy for wanting to run, like for fun and fitness?) So, I started looking into natural running, stride, gate, cadence and basically running like my kids run. I ended up going to a natural running store to have a gate evaluation. Aside from finding out I was doing really well in some things (good posture, good mid-stance form), I found out (at least to the natural chi-running expert evaluating me) that I was not doing well in other things. He talked about learning how to run 'soft' and not landing on my heel. Which I didn't think I was doing, but he video taped me running. So, I couldn't argue. The way he explained it, it was like I was stopping and starting every time I took a step and overworking my lower legs. Lean forward, increase your cadence (180 steps per minute) and land on your mid-foot not your heel; that's what he told me. I also learned from his video that my hips hurt because my core is weak. You know how some people have a 'wiggle' in their walk. Well, I have a 'wiggle' in my run, and that's not good. Add strengthening my core to the list. Oh, the thought of more crunches and planks just made me want to cry. I wanted to tell him how hard I'm already working on my core, that I know he can't tell, but it's SO much stronger than it was when I started all this craziness. I love my children, but they wreaked havoc on my midsection. Ok, back to running. I bought some shoes. I'm not super happy with the aesthetic, but they feel great.

I know Altra makes prettier shoes. If I ever buy another pair, I'll get more color.

After leaving there, I started researching further, learning about stress in your life and how it affects your running. According to other natural running experts, my issues with my lower leg might be due to adrenal stress, and not necessarily a result of my running. So, now my crazy, mommy, wife, maid, cook, chauffeur, therapist, philosopher life was causing me actual physical pain. Awesome. Now what?

Back to basics.

I started running barefoot, as in just socks, on my treadmill, and started working in these changes and my new 'natural' shoes. I noticed lots of positive things. Many of the issues I had noticed creeping up due to the half marathon training were beginning to fade. I started thinking I was on the right track. Then I got the "it's not the flu but it feels like it" virus and was sick for a month over Christmas break. How awesome is that? It forced me to rest and alleviate some of the offending stress, which was good, but I was very frustrated about how far behind I fell on my training. When I decided I was well, I hit the pavement hard and fast, too fast and with poor form. The running expert I bought the shoes from told me to carefully incorporate the new strategies and the shoes into my routine by 10% each week until I was in them completely. I didn't listen and decided since I had to take so much time off for the 'flu', I could just start from scratch. Ha! Running in the new shoes all the time and overdoing the 'natural' thing, I over corrected for the heel striking and ended up running more on my forefoot than my mid-foot. This caused horrible shin splints and calf pain. More time off, more frustration. During this time I would look through my training log and long to be running again. I also spent a lot of time in running magazines and web sites, wishing and hoping. Anyway, in my obsessiveness, I noticed my times in the new shoes were horribly slow. The chi people say running naturally should increase your speed and efficiency. Ugh. I'm doing something else wrong.

New plan. How about the middle of the road?

Hybrid, natural supportive shoes, and steady slow progression back from illness and injury.

These are the most expensive shoes I have ever purchased without a 4-6 inch heel. I've begun to have day-mares that I'm turning into the little old lady in orthotics, buying shoes based on comfort not style. Imagine cold sweats and loss of appetite. Just me overreacting. I think they're pretty stylish actually, and let me tell you, I love them!

No specialty running store this time. I went to try these on at one of those giant sporting goods stores, but ultimately bought them online. I got the brand I loved (like the ones I had before the blisters) and a more natural, low drop shoe. The best of both worlds, and I'm faster and healthier than ever.

I incorporated much of what the chi running expert told me, but ultimately I run the way I feel most comfortable running. I try to lean forward, keep my feet under me, and land mid-foot with a bent knee, but mostly I just run and enjoy the fact that I can.

I'm still very far behind in my training, and I don't know if I'll be able to do 13.1 miles come race day (will only be up to 9-10 miles by then). However, I'm sure I'm on the right track to enjoying running, pain free and healthy.

Some other things that have helped are coconut water (natural hydration helping me avoid headaches after my long runs), foam rolling my legs every day, and active isolated flexibility/stretching a few times a week.

I'll let you know how the half marathon goes. I can tell you no matter how embarrassing my time, I'll be slapping that 13.1 sticker on the back window of my car with pride. Next goal, 26.2!

*Note: Look for another post on the half marathon. Illness, injury and the inability to reach my training goals might cause me to postpone it until November or just skip it altogether in favor of going ahead and crossing the full marathon off my bucket list.

So, I Want to Do Mornings Now

This year, I've decided to try something new. It's called getting up before I have to. I tried it before the break. I don't like it, and consequently stopped while on the break. All of you morning people that wake up excited about life and a new day, and I mean this in the most loving Christian way possible, I can't stand you. Or, at least I can't stand the part of you that makes you that way, the DNA I didn't inherit. I suppose it's jealousy.

I've often thought life would be so much easier for me if I could wake up and start the day with as much energy as my dad used to. Poor man. Morning person to his very core, and always so happy to see us when we emerged from our slumber. My mom, myself (obviously) and my brothers, not so fond of mornings. The rest of us made a rule that my dad couldn't talk or sing until we had been up for half an hour. This was honestly for his own protection. Some mornings, it seemed to kill him to be quiet. After all, he'd been up for hours and had so much to share about what he'd been reading or thinking. Many mornings, after the allotted time had passed for us to get used to the fact that we were no longer snuggled warm in our beds, he would begin conversations with vibrancy and go on about his day like the world was his to conquer. That right there is what I wish I had inherited. If he had to wake us for anything, usually church because he was off to work before the sun rose most weekdays, he would enter our rooms with inhuman joy, playing some military wake up call on his pretend finger trumpet or singing Patch the Pirate's Rise and Shine Lazy Sleepy Head until we rose from our beds just to get away from the sound. [And, now you know why I am the way I am. That crazy (albeit awesome) man tortured me every weekend and holiday my whole childhood.]

I used to pray that my children somehow inherited that trait from him. Then I came to my senses and remembered that they already rise with the sun, why on earth would I pray that they would continue to torture me after their baby wakefulness came to an end. Needless to say, God knows better than we do, and He in His providence did not grant my early prayers. However, I will say that it is unbelievably hard for an adult who doesn't want to get out of bed to wake children who don't want to get out of bed. We're talking about serious battles before the sun comes up. Who wants to argue with a 6 year old about the importance of school or the reason we should go to church before the sun comes up? Every part of me except the mom part wants to say, "you're right, let's just crawl back into bed until noon."

The thing is, I'm always complaining about not having enough time to myself, time for reading and study, journaling and blogging, design and art projects, exercise and planning, things you can't do with three kids around. I'm usually spent at the end of the day. By the time I survive the day, get the kids to bed, lay out clothes, make lunches and pack back packs, the only thing I feel like doing is to crawl in bed for the best kind of alone time, sleep. So, waking earlier in the morning, is really my only option.

School starts back tomorrow for Jackson, the next day for my other two. We will resume leaving the house before the sun, and all that goes with it, minus an hour or two of sleep for me. I'm trying to get happy about my new morning person trial and having time to wake up myself before I have to wake the kids. Then maybe I'll have kinder answers for when they whine about how tired they are and ask why they have to go to school.

Have I ever mentioned I don't like coffee? In order to make this work, I might need to start. Maybe I'm gonna need to switch from my yummy green tea with honey to something stronger like chai, or I guess I could get back to my roots with a little earl gray or Irish breakfast tea. Or, I could just suck it up, grow up and make it happen without the use of stimulants.

I'll let you know how it goes. This has the potential to be a life changing resolution. Of course, it also has more potential to be one of those resolutions that gets scrapped by February. We'll see.

Cinnamon Rolls [Whole Wheat, Low Sugar]

Drizzling maple syrup over the roll in stead of icing adds sweetness while keeping it natural.

 I've shared before how frustrating it is that Jackson doesn't like chocolate. Chocolate cupcakes, brownies, cookies, all that is so much easier to cook without eggs, but he just doesn't like it. He does love cinnamon, though, and I've capitalized on the power of that spice. It adds flavor and masks the 'health' of many things. For instance, my quickie go-to when we were doing the gluten free, casein free thing was to make cinnamon toast using a honey and cinnamon spread concoction with the gluten/egg free nearly tasteless bread available in the health food section of our local grocery store. He loved it, and I think it was the cinnamon. I still make him cinnamon toast, but I use wheat bread and butter now.

Something he considers a big treat is cinnamon rolls. Since I make these from scratch with yeast, they're more labor and time intensive than say muffins or pancakes. That's why he considers them a treat, they don't happen very often. I love how easy it was to healthen up the recipe and provide him something he loves that's good for him, too. Someday, when I get him over his texture issues with nuts, I'll add them to the filling for protein and crunch.

Here's the recipe:

Dough:
 2 1/4 tsp active dry yeast (or one yeast packet)
1/2 cup warm water (between 90 and 105 degrees F)
1/2 cup scalded milk (it is very important that you scald the milk)
1/4 cup natural sugar (I use Florida Crystals organic cane sugar most of the time)
6 Tbsp organic butter, melted
1 tsp salt
1 egg (I use my mom's free-range, corn-free eggs)
3 to 4 cups flour (I usually mix whole wheat pastry flour and all-purpose flour in a 60/40 mixture. I've found that the more whole wheat flour I use, the more dense and less sweet the roll tastes, but obviously the more healthy it is. You could go more or less on the mixture depending on your purpose for the rolls.)

Filling:
My current go-to filling is homemade apple butter sweetened with honey. I've found that Cracker Barrel has a natural unsweetened apple butter with good flavor to use in a pinch. You could use a pumpkin or banana filling, too. If you're not using sugar and butter (like the usual cinnamon roll filling), though, you need some kind of fruit to make it work.

Apple Butter
 3 cups apple cider
2 lbs apples, peeled, cored and chopped
1/2 cup honey
1 tsp ground cinnamon

In a large saucepan over medium heat, bring the cider to a boil. Stir in the apples and reduce the heat to low. Cover and simmer, stirring frequently for about 1 hour or until the apples are tender. Remove the apples from the heat and mash. Stir in the honey and cinnamon. Return to heat and cook uncovered on low until thick, stirring often. Allow to cool before spreading onto rolls. You won't use all of this recipe on the rolls, so have a container ready to put the leftovers up in the fridge. I'm not a canner. So, I'm not sure this recipe is safe for canning.

Pumpkin Filling, combine ingredients and mix well.
1 15oz can pumpkin (not the pie filling, just the pumpkin)
1/2 cup honey
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp ginger

Directions:
Have filling prepared and cooled. Scald the milk and melt the butter (in separate containers).

Heat oven to 350 degrees F.

In a small bowl, dissolve yeast in warm water and set aside. In a large bowl mix milk, sugar, melted butter, salt and egg. Add 2 cups of the flour and mix until smooth. Add yeast. Mix in remaining flour 1 cup at a time until dough is easy to handle. On a well floured work surface, knead the dough for about 5-10 minutes. Place in a well-greased bowl, cover and let it rise until it's doubled in size, usually 1 to 1 1/2 hours.

After the dough has doubled, punch it down and roll it out on a floured surface. You're going for a roughly 9x15 inch rectangle. Spread the filling over the dough. You want to get enough on there, but not so much that it all squeezes out when you roll up the dough. Jackson likes cinnamon, so I will often sprinkle more over the filling after I'm done spreading. Beginning with the long side, roll up the dough into a log and cut 10-12 slices.

Grease and flour a round 9 inch cake pan like you would for baking a cake. Place the cinnamon roll slices close together and bake for about 30 minutes or until nicely browned. If you want to, you can use a bigger pan or a square or rectangular pan, place the slices close together and let it rise one more time (about 45 minutes) before baking. I'm always so tired of waiting by this point, I just put it in the oven.

Yummy!

For the 'icing' I just warm some maple syrup and pour it over the top. Jackson will eat it without the syrup or icing, too, especially if we're running late for school, and I like not having the stickiness in my car. The pumpkin filling is from my homemade pop tarts, and you could use the same icing recipe on these. You would probably have to double or triple it, though, to make enough for a dozen rolls.

Now, I'm going to have to make these while we're still on break.