Today I ran. And it wasn't horrible. Anyone who knows me knows that this is big BIG BIG! Usually I run and complain quietly for the rest of the day, possibly for the rest of the week. But today? Today I ran and now I feel good, not complaining.
When I was in high school I had a good friend who was a runner. She did cross country, track, but mostly she just ran. She loved it. I remember her climbing out of bed on weekends and in the summer and slipping on her shoes and running while I'd still be cozy in bed. One morning she came home and I said, "I wish I was a runner." I don't remember her response at the time but I do remember the next morning. The next morning we were in bed at her house and she got up to run. She pulled her hair back in a ponytail and got her shoes on. I laid in bed. She came back a few minutes later with a pair of running shoes and told me we were going running. Ummmmm....I don't think she realized that I was not a runner.
We started off together. We ran along the country road she lived on. We ran and ran (as 17 year olds can do) and then I got tired. I told her to keep going and I'd walk back. So, that is what we did. She kept going and I walked through a raspberry field on my way back to her house. When she got home she simply said, "Ok so you ran. You're a runner today." She was pretty deep for 17, yes? That summer I continued to run with her off and on. I wasn't consistent which was pretty par for the course for me.
Needless to say I didn't continue running. Do I wish I had? Oh yes. Oh it would have been so much easier to start and continue at 17...BUT I didn't.
I didn't really think much about running in my 20s. I was a young mom. I kept myself busy with my guys, volunteer work and maintaining normalcy (my sense of normalcy at least) in life.
Around 30 I decided that I wanted to be a runner again (see, I knew I had already been a runner once so it was totally an "again" situation). I went into running this time with a new mindset - training schedule, distance, time, routes - I quickly lost interest. My attention span can be very short and when I feel like I have to do something I get rebellious with myself...Me and myself have an interesting relationship.
Somewhere between 17 and 30 I forgot what being a runner was all about...For me being a runner is about putting on my shoes and running. How long did I run? I don't know. How far? No clue. Will I run tomorrow? Tomorrow will tell. But today, today I am a runner.
When I was a little girl all I wanted was a sister. I believed that if I had a sister that I would always have a friend. A friend to play with as a child, a friend to talk to, a friend to be a friend for life. And while now I realize that not all sisters are friends I didn't realize it then.
Alas, I lived my childhood sister-less.
I had a brother. A big brother. A mean brother who didn't really like me around. Of course I worshiped him. I thought he was the best thing in the world and I spent so much time wishing he'd like me too. There are moments, moments in pictures that I see he loved me but the memories are mostly of him wanting to rid himself of me. I think that's normal. Now that we're adults we're good. A little of that sibling rivalry still lives on. Sometimes I still like to see how far I can push him, how many buttons I can push...that's just a little sister thing and truly I am really good at it.
But back to the sister thing. So, I really wanted a sister. When I was a kid. Like, when I lived on the lake and near woods. Someone to play with everyday and share a room. I obviously had an idealized version of what a sister would be...an idea that only comes from the girl who didn't have a sister. In my mind my sister was blonde. She was the blonde me. Her name varied from Kendra to Samantha. She was a bit more girly than me...I knew exactly what I wanted in a sister.
Well, childhood came and went with no sister (although I had cousins and friends who filled the role nicely).
Then, when I was 15 after my mom had been remarried for several years and had given birth to my baby brother (who I adored), a sister was born. What the heck? The last thing I wanted at 15 was another baby in the house...one was enough thank you! And really? A sister? What good was a sister now at 15? We couldn't "play." We couldn't share clothes. We wouldn't share a room.
But my heart still soared. A sister! A baby brother. They would love me I just knew it. So, I did what I knew how. I loved them fiercely. I spoiled them and was their second mom. I bought them cute clothes, took them to the park and let them crawl in bed with me in the mornings.
And I gave them a nephew. Who they adore. They were a little aunt and uncle. And even after I moved out, got married, had my own little one I loved them with all my heart.
As they grew I grew. I knew we'd always have time (read: age) separating us. But that's alright.
And now...now that sister is 21. The sister I longed for for years is an adult and I am so blessed. She is everything a sister should be. We "play." We laugh. We talk. We don't necessarily share clothes...I am blessed by my sister...
This year has been a year of change for me. My boy, that little bundle of sweetness, has turned into a young man. We're looking at 16 soon, he's been driving with a permit for nine months, he spends more time with his friends and less time with his mama...all the stuff that should be happening. It's exciting and new. It's scary and unknown. As he nears the end of his sophomore year I see the end in sight. While I know I will always be his mama I also know as he spreads his wings and flies further and further from the nest that one day he will fly away. I am so happy and excited as I see him growing and developing into a terrific young man and as he changes I have to as well.
(my light. my joy)
I am excited for our futures. As a family we are stable. We are rocks and comforters for one another. I always say "we are three." Forever we will be; however our three will look different very soon.
So, this is my place to grow and change and learn and be.