I Am Not A Runner

Meet Jason...the runner. He has goals and aspirations. He wants to BQ. So he has been running OVER 75 miles per week to increase his EVERYTHING. He is amazing. We all know it. This picture is of this weekend at the TOU Half. I love it. The throngs of people, supporters and runners alike. You can't hardly move and stress is high because you just know you're gonna lose a kid or two by the time the day is over. But it's also fun because people are reaching their goals. Jason took first in his age group.

That night, after the half, I took my little jog and I realized that I wanted to clarify, to the world, one thing. I am not a runner. So if you see me jogging please don't think I am doing it in arrogance. Quite the opposite. I am humble. I just want to feel good about my body....someday. When Jason started training for his first marathon, he really wanted the world to join him. He told me he would build a new kitchen if I ran a marathon. Fine. So I started training. 1 mile. That sucked. 2 miles. Still sucked. 3 miles. I can do this. 4 miles. Something is seriously wrong with my knees. Start over. Stretch. 1 mile. Stretch. Stretch. 1 mile. Stretch. 1/2 mile. Stretch. I got up to 12 miles. It was a good run...until my IT Bands started screaming in pain. I ended up alternately sprinting and walking myself home. Turns out I have bad hips...and then I got pregnant.

So this year, after my 4th child, I have tried running barefoot (really, in Vibram 5 fingers). My theory was that maybe if I improved my form and ran more naturally then maybe, just maybe, my hips and knees would be able to compensate.

It's hard for me not to get frustrated. I want to be a runner. I'm just not good at it. I was slow before...and now I'm even slower in my vibrams. I don't run with people, but the other day I let myself get suckered into the social aspect of it and went running with my neighbor. It was quite embarrassing. I tried to warn her I was slow, but I know she didn't expect what she got. I know she thought more of me than when we started that run, and honestly it was quite disheartening for me. It made me realize just how much I really do suck. And I can imagine the conversation she must have had after that jog, "And she calls herself a runner. She said she was slow, but I wasn't expecting to have to zig-zag across the street just so I could get my heart-rate up a little."

Yeah. So. Just so you know. I am not a runner. I will never run a race because I don't need to pay $55 to come in last. Perhaps I am afraid of failure...and if I run (jog at a slightly fast walking pace) by myself then there won't be a first or a last. Just me, trying to feel good about my body. Trying to fight the pain in my hips and knees and do something I enjoy but was not blessed with the talent to do well. Praying to God that I will learn how to run with my legs and that He will make them work if I put in the time and effort to use them. No joke.

Do you pray while you run?

Jason is the runner. Well, Jason is everything. Ha ha. He can do anything. I'm alright with it. It's part of the reason I married him. And if you want to talk about running, I'll happily oblige. Just know, though, I will most likely be spouting off the latest conversation between my husband runner and I. Consider me the conduit between you and the real runner. Yep, that's right. I am a pipe. Not a runner. A pipe. Got it?

A Resolve Towards Better Communication

Elder Marvin J. Ashton said, "The time to listen is when someone needs to be heard."

The other day our neighbor invited the girls over to play. Nikell had been playing with a little toy camera before we left and about half-way through our walk she suddenly jumped up and said, "I need my camera!" I told her that we were not going to walk all the way home to get her camera. She started to cry and protested that she REALLY needed to get it. I told her to knock it off and if she was going to go play then she needed to buck up and quit whining. She sat down in the stroller, took a deep breath, and said okay.

On the way home I found her camera. It was on the sidewalk, not five feet from where she originally asked to go get it. She didn't need to go home. She had simply dropped it and wanted me to stop the stroller long enough for her to grab it. And in my haste I neglected to listen to her, to understand her.

That poor sweet little 3-year-old managed to not throw a temper tantrum and, for all she knew, give up her camera for good. And this breaks my heart. I know better. I remember being a kid and wondering why grown-ups couldn't understand me. I remember being a teenager and watching parents ignore their children. I remember vowing to never be that way...

Last week, I was running to the grocery store. Jason was home. So I figured I would leave the kids and make a quick run. As I was getting ready to leave I asked Jason if he would grab Aiddie, who was behind the van. He rolled his eyes at me.

Yeah, really.

I was livid.

I had conversations in my head for 3 days straight about that eye roll. I could not understand why it was such a big deal for him to watch the kids for 1/2 an hour so I could go to the grocery store in peace. I could not understand why he couldn't see that I needed a little time alone. I could not understand how he could knowingly compound the guilt I already felt at running away (for a mere 1/2 hour to buy groceries!). I fumed and stewed and cried and prayed. He left me alone. I continued fuming and stewing and crying and praying. Until finally we sat down and had a little conversation. I explained my deepest darkest feelings to him. I explained how he had hurt me and how I was trying hard to be a good mother but I was currently at a loss at what to do to find balance in our lives. I explained to him the guilt. I explained to him the pain. I explained to him the turmoil.

Then he explained something to me. He explained that he had rolled his eyes because Sierra had been 2 feet away from Aiddie when I asked him to come get her. He rolled his eyes because wouldn't it have been more logical for Sierra to bring (take, for those who care) Aiddie to him rather than have him stop what he was doing and walk all the way over?

Are you kidding me? I wasn't sure how long I could continue on knowing that my husband was as big of a jerk as he was when he rolled those eyes. I vacillated between depression, anger, frustration, and physical pain for 3 days all because I misunderstood the meaning of an eye-roll? (Oh, and he apologized for the eye roll too).

Here's my problem.

I ASSUME (and we all know what that means) that I KNOW.

I am too prideful to stop and ask. In my marriage it creates anger and pain that is not necessary. With my children it literally stops me from being the parent I need and want to be. It shuts them off to open communication with me. It cuts them down and hurts them. Their innocent souls are squashed by my pride.

So, I am recommitting to better communication. I will swallow my pride and wait for explanations. I will be more patient and get down on my children's level and look them in the eye and listen to their soft-spoken words before I dictate a situation. I will be a better mother and wife. I will try try try.

"If your lips can keep from slips,

Five things observe with care:

To whom you speak, of whom you speak;

And how, and when, and where."

--William Edward Norris

Because you will die

We went to the park the other day with Oli and Sophie (my nieces). Our park is bordered by a river. The river is hidden by trees and shrubbery, but if you get close you can see that the bank is a little steep and the drop is short. Of course my children are always trying to venture back to see the river and I am always trying to stop them.

The other day was no exception, and as Oli and Mialee headed the river direction I yelled for them to come back. Mialee, disappointed at not getting her way, responded with, "But why?" (and if there was a way to manipulate the text so it showed extreme whining, I would). I responded with, "You know why."

Nikell, the ever helpful three-year-old, worried that Mialee really didn't' know why, clarified for her... "Because you will die!"

It's That Time...

A Question About School

Okay, so tell me something about school.

What is your favorite memory from elementary school? What is your biggest stress about sending your kids back to school (or are you simply overjoyed about them leaving that the "stress" hasn't hit yet?). How do you feel about public school these days, and better yet, how do you find the time to get into their classrooms when you have younger kids?

Pick a question, any one. I'll save my answer for later, Jason is already in bed and waiting for me (which means my free time is now over and every minute I spend from here on out is laced with guilt or sheer-determination to finish a task in the peace and quiet of bed-time. Oh, and just so you know, this has little to do with Jason, and more to do with me--I think it's a girl thing.).

Question #5

Okay, this is a doozy...I wonder if anyone will REALLY be game.

What or who or when or how did someone save you? I know you have all been "saved" at one time or another in your life. So tell me about it. I'll tell you one, but please know that your definition of "saved" need not be the same as mine. You can be creative. I'll take whatever I can get.

So, this might get a little long. Skip it if you want. But still answer the question...I want to know!

When I was a kid, we moved to West Point and I made a friend. She was nice enough, but really looking back, she was never that great of a friend. We hung out almost every day. I remember asking her who her best friend was. I think I was maybe 10th on her list. But, when you're a kid, you pretty much have your neighbors and that's it. 7 years we were friends. Sleep overs, parties, mud holes, movies. You name it, if it's what friends did, we did it. Then one day she started to ignore me a little more than usual. Then she started avoiding me a bit. And I started to figure out she was ignoring me and avoiding me. Then I started doing little experiments to see if she, and our other friends, really cared about me. When we would walk down the hall in junior high, I would hang back, slow down, and even stop. Guess what? They left me. Over and over they left me. Then I got brave and confronted her. This is what she told me, and yes, I remember it to this day it, is still burned into my soul, "I don't want to be your friend anymore. We can say hi in the hall and stuff but I just don't want to be around you." I asked her why. No reason. I cried. For 3 or 4 years, I cried. I remember going to school after that day. I would go to my locker and grab some books or some papers and then I would walk up and down the halls quickly so it looked like I had somewhere important to go. So it didn't look like I didn't have a friend in the world. So I didn't look alone.

Anyway, after a couple of years of going to school and church and young women activities and being surrounded by people and yet utterly alone, it started to wear on me. I finally got to the point where I realized that I needed to either start over or be done with it. So, in high school, I decided to find some new friends. I walked up to some people that I had some classes with in junior high and I said, "Hi, will you let me hang out with you?" Obviously they did not know that my very being hung in the balance. They did not know that it took me a week to work up the guts to ask. They did not know that if they said no that it would destroy me.

They said yes. Simply and with a smile, "Yes." And as I sit here today, tears roll down my face because I can still feel the relief in their answer. Hoping and then knowing that I would no longer have to pretend to have friends. That I wouldn't have to pretend to be important. That I wouldn't have to be alone anymore.

And then, even more amazing, two people in particular began to pick up the pieces of my broken heart and soul. They smiled at me. They invited me to parties. They included me. They did the 12 days of Christmas for me.

They didn't have to. They had friends. A lot of friends. But they did. They saved my life one act, one smile, one day at a time. I never asked them how they knew. I never even asked them if they knew. But I have thanked God for them over and over and over.

Question #4

What are some of the first things you noticed/fell in love with about your spouse?

For me it was the way he said my name. It was like finding home and peace and safety. It was the way he looked into my eyes and matter-of-factly complimented me (like he was spouting off well-known facts of engineering). It was the way he approached life; with a surety and confidence and a plan the he knew would work because he was the master-mind behind it. It was his cocky swagger and his shocking Micheal Jordan basketball moves. It was his gentleness and his amazing laugh. It was his soft lips (ask his brothers) and his ability to listen. It was simply, and finally, finding all the missing pieces to a puzzle that had been sitting on the table for a long time, putting those pieces together, and finding happiness and love in the finished picture.

A few Pictures...

Travee's SWEET Croquet Set. He brought it over for FHE

Camping up Logan Canyon. We had a lot of fun with the mice.

...and building Fires.

Zach doing yoga in Bear Lake.

Travis and Crystal being cute in Bear Lake.

Aiddie eating sand in Bear Lake.

Question #3

What do you really do when you are really angry? Do you get angry? Do you get that, "I'm so mad I'm going to kill the next person who looks at me!" angry? That, "I don't even know why I am mad!" angry? That, "I can't make it stop." angry. What do you do? You who have husbands that can't figure out why you are tearing their eyes out. You who have kids that wonder if their mother has gone off the deep end. You, who I know would maybe just like to run away for a while and try and get control of that monster that is fighting to get out, but can't leave your house full of kids to burn up in a fire that would surely ignite as soon as you stepped foot out of the house. What do you do?

So, here's the thing. Sometimes I get this feeling inside of me. It starts out as being annoyed and then it grows and grows and grows. And I try and fight it. I really do. But the more I fight it, the worse it gets. And then I get mad. And then things bother me. Really, this week, my kids have been sick and I am getting less done than usual and you pair that with no sleep and sick kids who cry all day and that angry monster of a feeling and you have a no-fun momma. And then I get mad because nobody cares enough to actually help me. I think they should say, "Hey Mom, or Hey Honey, are you okay? Do you need something? Do you need to take a break?" But they all just tip-toe around me, like I probably would around them. Then I vascilate between extreme anger and extreme hurt until I just have to emotionally check out and pray that it will get better soon. Blah. Sometimes I hate the emotional complexities of being a Mom.