running the race

I registered for the Race for the Cure the other day. September 29. I will once again drag my sorry self 3.1 miles while Jane keeps my mind off my misery. (She qualified as my best friend decades ago, but this running thing really has her title cemented.)

Today, in an effort to begin “training” for the Race, I walked over to the track near our house and forced myself to jog. It was basically high noon and I was jogging on a dusty cinder track. I did not enjoy it.

When I finally let myself stop (OK, I am really kind to myself when I am running–wouldn’t want to pull a muscle, you know), I stretched in the shade and thought about how little I like running. How what I really want is to have run.

And, of course, races are always analogous to life–I make my own comparisons that way–so I wondered if this is how I can be about life, sometimes. That I’m not so very focused on living simply because I want to have lived. Want to make it to the next birthday, graduation, milestone. I think so often about how long I’ll stay ahead of this disease that I lose sight of the fact that I’m ahead of it today. Today.

Today I ran a mile. I have run a mile. I did it. Today.

It was nice to have run it. But I think I’ll try to pay more attention while I’m doing it next time.


(This photo is from the Race 2006)

our five year old

It’s a lovely day and Zoe is wearing red; so I decided to try to take a 5-year-old picture of her. Here are a few of them…
five year old 35 year oldfive year old 2

Then we decided that the eight-year-old needed a photo shoot too…
Daisyzoe and daisychewing stick

my summit bid

A few YEARS ago now, I told our friend Jamie that I was “on the cusp of complete home organization.” Jamie’s closets would make an organization guru weep tears of joy and his garage cubbies make me salivate. The man knows organization.

I, on the other hand, slipped on and off the cusp, in fits of feng shui (feng-ing it up and shui-ing it to the curb), free-cycling, labeling, and rubbermaid buying. The cusp, it seemed, would be where I every-so-often remained. And no further.

But then, this book came into my cover I got it out from the library for professional reasons that quickly took a personal turn. I found Mark with his nose in it one day and we haven’t stopped talking about it since.

Seems my forays onto the cusp were mere acclimitization hikes. Now’s the time for the summit bid. The eight boxes in the garage gleaned from the kitchen alone (and I’m not even finished purging the cupboards) would attest to the zeal of this convert. There are plenty of the author’s tips that we’re happily ignoring (such as eating off paper plates every night!), but the “brutal purge”? That, I can relate to. The efficiency demands? Mark loves them.

What, you say, might be in those garage boxes? Here’s a sampling:

1. a fondue pot
2. a meat tenderizer
3. a banged up bundt pan (there’s still another one in the cabinet)
4. a coffee maker
5. about 12 cookbooks

The boxes are multiplying by the day.

The garage sale will be in September. Mark has added three laundry baskets of old technical journals to the recycling bin. We have both sent large boxes of clothes to In the Image.

And after the garage sale, the recycling pick-up, and the charity trips, Jamie will need to join us for a summit party.