numbers mean nothing

i turned 37 recently which is crazy to me since i don't feel a day over 29. my recent 20 year high school reunion proves otherwise. sometimes i don't think my life has changed much since i was that age but in many ways it has.

while i don't have the family i dreamed of, yet, there is a family of friends who surround me with love. my recent trip to nashville showed me that and more. although many have friends may have moved away, they continue to show up and cheer me on. even though living alone can be lonely, i know i am not alone.

when i bought my house at 25, i figured i would live in it a few years and sell it before i really had to do any work. ha! never did i anticipate being there for 12 years. yet that single decision has made so many other ones possible like paying off student loans (hallelujah).  

professionally, i still work in the nonprofit sector. becoming an executive director over four years ago was as challenging as expected but also suprisingly rewarding. i've learned a lot about the kind of leader i want to be and get the opportunity to positively impact lives on a daily basis. now i even have letters after my name. i had put off the CFRE exam for multitudes of reasons. when my dad passed, i realized there is never a good time. just do the thing. so i did and i felt like it made him proud. it makes me proud (even though most people don't know what it means). 

recently i watched a friend's dog and when i dropped him off, she tried to hand me cash. i refused to take it because i was so grateful to have a dog in the house that i didn't want to be paid. more importantly, i didn't need to be paid. that is a big change from a few years ago. i was hustling with babysitting and dogsitting to earn extra funds. because of my house and my job, i'm now able to afford (mostly) what i want. and i have all i need.  

the last two birthdays before 37 were difficult to celebrate. at 35, i had recently lost my dad and at 36, i had recently lost my dog. losing those two precious parts of my life made me realize how time is a gift and it won't last forever. 

celebrate we will because life is short but sweet for certain.

so i celebrated my 37th in style and 38 is quickly approaching. while i'm not where i thought i might be, maybe i'm exactly where i should be. 

who knows what the universe has in store.

and numbers mean nothing.

running is a gift

i watched the nyc marathon a few weeks ago. as the elites and the amateurs ran through the five boroughs of new york, i was inspired. 

my first marathon was the best day of my life. if that's how good it felt to finish in 4:30, i can only imagine the joy of breaking the tape and stepping onto that podium. 

running any distance is a way to challenge yourself, test your strength and be victorious.

running is a gift.

sometimes it feels like that shitty gift your aunt sent at christmas that she clearly bought from the clearance section last year. but most times it feels like the one santa brought that was hiding behind the tree.

only you bought it. you put in the work and gave it to yourself.

metaphors aside, i'm grateful for all that running has given to me. 

confidence.

friendship. 

strength.

purpose.

joy.

for my 29th (times eight) birthday, i ran a half marathon in nashville with nine friends who became family. i wasn't sure what to expect since the course promised to be hilly. after some encouragement from a sweet friend, i took off hoping to hang on for 13 miles. there were certainly times i didn't think i could but a voice inside kept asking "what if you believe in yourself just a little longer" and so i did. that belief propelled me to a near pr on a course i thought would defeat me. it rivaled the marathon for my best day ever. 

i left nashville much happier (which could be its own post) with a renewed gratefulness for this gift.

as i continue to log miles and set goals, i remember all the people, places and purpose running has given me. and while not all the miles are fast, they are all worth every step. 

my dad

the empty thump the heavy bag of his old clothes made when they hit the bottom of the donation bin echoed the thump of my heart the moment i found out he was gone.  

that's the sentence that's been floating through my head since i first thought about writing about the day my dad died. it sounds dramatic but that's because it was. 

i know i'm not the first daughter to lose her father. i wasn't even his only daughter to become fatherless. still, it wasn't something i was prepared for, particularly as i drank my happy hour beer and schemed with a colleague on how i might get my parents to move to vero following their very recent visit.

and then the call.

the heart thump.

the empty.

and my life changed in a heartbeat. 

it didn't make sense. three days before he was in my house helping me blow up balloons for an event. i didn't want my parents to leave. i wish they hadn't. 

the day before, he answered the phone using the same joke we always did when he acted like mom's answering service. we laughed about him getting his money's worth during his golf game that day. he passed the phone to mom. i hope i told him i loved him. i hope he knew how much i meant it. 

and then the call.

it was the worst day of my life. followed by a series of them. 

first the flight to north carolina. he wasn't there to pick me up. having to call friends and family and utter those terrible words. i did it because i didn't want mom to have to do it but i fell apart every time. dropping off the paperwork to the funeral home to be sure he flew with an american flag earned through his service in the air force. driving away imagining him in that plane, alone. fighting to get his medical records. picking them up and seeing the pity in the nurse's eyes. 

writing his obituary. 

picking out the casket. 

seeing him in it. 

feeling uncomfortable in the crowd at the funeral home, searching for his eyes and that knowing look which always gave me comfort, realizing i wouldn't see them or that look again. flying home with the flag that covered his casket, holding on to it as if he was woven into its fibers. 

it went on. a series of days and tasks that felt like torture. some moments i remember with crystal clarity while whole weeks are a blur. somehow a whole year passed. now it's over two and a half years later and i'm finally writing this. 

grief is weird. it never goes away.  it becomes a part of you.

but with time i've realized dad is also a part of me. he always will be. i'm not particularly religious yet i believe he sends signs. sometimes a punchline pops in my head before i have time to think of it myself and i thank him for it. a limo was parked on a sideline of a race. a fly in my house. 

i wish every day that he was still here. that he could still hug me. between his arms were strength, comfort, safety. for a man of few words, his hugs spoke volumes. and for someone who had a quiet presence, his absence is loud. 

i know he would not want me to linger in sadness so i celebrate him whenever and however i can. coffee ice cream, diet dr. pepper, a favorite beer. jokes, flexibility, patience, finding the best shortcut to my destination. enjoying the drive. 

my dad was humble and kind just like the tim mcgraw song i hoped to dance with him at my wedding. something that isn't possible anymore. 

while there are so many moments he won't physically be a part of, i try to be grateful for the memories i do have of my hero, my dad. he may not be woven into that flag but he is entwined with every fiber of my being. 

donating his clothes felt like letting go but it was one way to share his legacy. scattering pieces of his life like breadcrumbs to find our way back to him. 

making the most of my days is the best way to make sure his legacy lives on. 

i hope the best days are yet to come because he will be a part of them. 

i hope i make him proud. 

love you huge, dad. 

My Hero

I cannot write enough words to sum up my Dad. I had both the honor and horror of writing his obituary and eulogy. Below is what I read at his wake. He is all this and more. I will spend the rest of my life missing him and honoring his legacy. 

Dad was always putting lotto tickets in our Christmas stockings but we truly hit the jackpot with him. I’ve always been keenly aware how incredibly lucky to have the family I do. Many things had to happen for it to come to be and I have never taken that for granted. Dad met Mom after losing his first wife, Jane, and he came with two young children, my brother and sister. They fell in love fast and married even faster. There was not a day after that where he did not show his love for Mom or us kids.  

I joke that dad's love language was Windex. Anytime he would come to visit, I'd find new bottles around the house even though I hadn’t finished any of the bottles from his last visit. That's how dad was, short on words but big on action. He showed his love by doing things like making sure my mom always had her yogurt (she calls him her supply sgt), replacing my air filter, ensuring my brother had enough Christmas lights on his tree or that my sister's car was properly washed and waxed.

He did thousands of thoughtful things for all of us and worked incredibly hard to provide our family with a beautiful life. Our home in Sayville was always surrounded by gorgeous flowers and full of love and laughter. It was this strong foundation that allowed me, my brother and sister to spread our wings and fly. His example as a role model has been a guiding light as we’ve made our way in the world.

Dad’s service in the United States Air Force is a source of pride for all of us. He drove a truck in Florida, transporting necessary supplies like toilet paper. He joked that “if you can’t wipe it, you gotta wear it.” That was typical of dad, incredibly humble and totally hilarious. His punchlines were legendary. And so was his mustache. Dad was quietly brilliant, like a human encyclopedia, especially on the Civil War. His extensive knowledge helped me pass a college course in the subject.

He was also extremely patient. He would spend hours building sand forts to protect us from the rising tide. He'd spend days putting together the Christmas Village every year. He made sure the front and back yard were equally decked with lights and we lovingly called him Mr. Christmas. Dad made the holidays magic.

Dad was always magic to his grandkids who lovingly called him PopPop. My nieces and nephews lit up when he walked into the room and despite all his ailments he would get on the floor to play or crawl through caves together. PopPop became a kid again with them.

Dad was a gentle giant. His loyal dog George wanted nothing more than to be his shadow. Dad had the biggest heart and his hugs said more than words ever could and packed more warmth than the Florida sunshine. I can attest to that. For his 70th birthday I gave him the gift of trekking through DC to watch me run a marathon. Lucky him, but he did it with a smile. That morning he gave me the sweetest hug that powered me through the hardest of miles. Dad's love made me brave.

Dad was brave. He cared deeply, lived humbly and leaves a legacy of love. We are so grateful for the countless memories although there will never be enough. Dad will forever be remembered as the kind, thoughtful, patient and hilarious man he was.

Loved beyond measure, missed beyond words. Dad, you will always be our hero and the best guy I ever knew.

Adventure awaits

This year did not end up the way I dreamed when the ball dropped 365 days ago. Bailey and I weathered more than hurricane Irma. But with her by my side it was still a year full of joy. As I woke up this morning anticipating the ball drop I felt incredibly lucky.

A while ago I used to pray for strength and focus. Then I ran a marathon. I realized I was given those things through running. That realization gave me faith. Faith in myself and faith in something greater than me.

Then I prayed for someone to love. Well that, I was given in spades.

While I thought I was asking for one person to love, I was given so many (and one angel dog). Last night, as I walked into a room full of friends who were happy to see me, I felt so loved. Prayer answered.

This year I started a running challenge with a teammate. Our goal was 2017 combined miles in 2017. A few months ago I became a team of one and thought that goal was out of reach. But I realized I'm a part of a community of runner's and I have a four legged running buddy whose logged countless miles with me. We're calling this mission accomplished.

As I ran on the last day of 2017 I found myself praying again. The word that kept floating up was adventure. I've started that off with a new job and a fresh hair cut. I hope to challenge myself, travel, face fears and try new things in the next 365 days. "To reach a port we must sail. Sail, not tie at anchor Sail, not drift." (FDR) It's time to start sailing.

One thing I always hope to have is gratitude. It makes life so much sweeter. I'm thankful for this wonderful life, the awesome people I share it with and the paradise I call home.

Cheers to a new year and the adventures that await!

head up, heart strong

"keep your head up, keep your heart strong." i read this quote by shalane flanagan on facebook one day and felt like it summed up this season of running for me.

last year marked my first marathon, an experience and memory that will be irreplaceable. after i completed it, i wasn't sure what to do next. so i just kept running and trusted that with each step i would figure it out. i started by increasing my mileage with a monthly goal of at least 100. it was a good first step, or 100,000 steps. but who is counting.

i realized this would be my tenth year of running. ten years since i lost a friend and gained an incredible gift. i had completed 8 marathons since i started so i signed up for two to commemorate this anniversary. one was for fun the other was for a PR. my first half marathon ever took me 2 hours and 24 minutes, my tenth only took one hour and 56.

my ninth half wasn't nearly as fast and when my friend asked what changed for the tenth, i told her i just knew i could do it. i woke up with the faith that i could and would achieve my goal. i had put in the time and training and it was all about to pay off. my head was up, my heart was strong. the weather didn't hurt either.

crossing that line, i knew i had more in me. i could be faster. my next goal became to set new PRs. the local race series gave me lots of opportunities since many races were odd distances. this meant that no matter what time i got, it was an automatic PR.

this weekend was the last race. when the gun went off the panic set in. everyone looked faster than me. i am not the thinnest in the field nor do i have the most muscle. how could i keep up?! and then i told myself to and run my own damn race and not worry about anyone else.

and it worked. it wasn't pretty but it was a PR. i had to amend the "not worrying about anyone else" since another runner came up to me the last half mile and kept me going. without words she told me not to give up. i may have been running my own race, but i was not alone.

it's been incredibly gratifying to have a few wins in an age division i used to fear. not only for the fear of being 30, but those women were fast! it's also helped me realize i don't need to be the thinnest or most built, but i have to have faith in myself. it's been a year of personal ups and downs but through it all running has helped me keep my head up and my heart strong.

next goal...negative splits. and maybe another marathon.

you win some, you lose some, you come back for more

in two saturdays, i ran two races with two very different experiences and outcomes.

last saturday, i ran Disney's Tower of Terror 10 Miler. as to be expected in Disney World, it was magical. all the stars aligned and a cool front rolled in an hour before the 10pm start and i was assigned an early starting corral which is essential in a race with 10,000 runners. i couldn't wait to start running and as soon as i did, each mile ticked off faster than the last. i was on the epitome of a runner's high as i crossed the finish line in 1:28:25.

with a pace of 8:42 in the ten miler, my goal of a sub two hour half marathon seemed within reach. fast forward to this saturday. i kept my legs fresh through the week and loaded up on plenty of carbs (aka pigged out). as i toed the starting line, i felt fairly sure i could pull it off. but at a steamy 80+ degrees at 7am and the added challenge of the bridges (florida for "hill") doubt crept in slowly and by mile seven, i thought i'd be lucky to even finish. it was a complete struggle but thanks to a friend pulling me along, i finished in 2:04:57.

i went home discouraged and exhausted. my finishing time was only 51 seconds off a personal best but it had felt 51 times harder. i doubted my abilities and considered finding another sport. but after a long shower and a big bowl of mac and cheese i found some perspective.

i'm lucky to be able to run a mile, much less 13.1. i'm fortunate to be able to run through disney or along the beachside in this beautiful town. i have friends and family who applauded both efforts, regardless of their outcomes. two hours and five minutes is better than not finishing which is even better than never starting.

running fills me up and empties me out in the best way possible. it provides a sense of accomplishment even when nothing else seems to be going right. i have had some of my best ideas and solved some of my hardest problems on a run. running connects me with an awesome community. it keeps me sane. it makes me happy.

and yes, i'll be back for more.