Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.

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Around the lake

I have a major (for me anyway) 10 mile “race” coming up the last weekend in July.  Not that I race, but I used to be able to run most of this race, and I did it every year, a sort of tradition for me and many of my friends.  Anyway, in years past I’d have been training all winter, all spring, and certainly all summer for this 10 miler. This year’s Crim  will be the first race I do since I was injured in 2008 while training for a half marathon.   And frankly even before that I’ve been somewhat of a slacker in the running department which is probably why I got injured in the first place.   So I’m very worried about being able to complete 10 hilly, hot, humid miles in approximately 27 days.

When the trip to Alabama came about I thought I’d at least run the 1/2 mile out to the main road and 1/2 mile back to the house every day.  Right.  There are three huge hills between the house and the main road, and all I managed was to walk it every day for the first week.  And that was the end of that.  I blame humidity, but really it was that slacker thing overcoming me again.

So this week I decided I needed to make an informed decision about whether to do this race or not.  I went out on Thursday to run/walk 4 miles, just to see how it felt.  I was near the end of mile 1, running up a short, steep hill when a little red car popped over the top, headed down my side of the hill.  I instinctively moved to the edge of the road, which unfortunately, or fortunately as it turned out, was soft sand, where recent rains had run, filled with some large stones.  My toe caught on something and I started to go down.  Somehow I saved my hands, head and knees and did a giant, undignified belly flop into the sand.  The car stopped to make sure I was fine.  I was, just embarrassed.  But my 4 miler turned into a two miler as I walked to determine if that twinge in my left ankle was really anything.

Saturday morning I headed out to Kensington, my favorite park that has an 8+ mile paved bike trail around a big lake.  I decided that if I drove 30 minutes I needed to do at least 5 miles…but I’d see how I felt.  The left ankle twinged again when I  put my running shoes on, so I didn’t know how it would all turn out.  l have to admit that most of my work out there was walking with a bit of running thrown in.  At worst case I needed to know if I could walk the 10 mile race.

At the end of two miles I wanted to go back to the car, but I convinced myself that I didn’t drive all the way out there just to do 4 mile – I could have done at home.  I’m glad I made that decision because around the next corner, walking about 3 feet off the path were two sand-hill cranes!  I didn’t have my camera (more weight I didn’t want to carry on this official “run”!) but you might remember from a previous post that I took pictures back in October of 2006 for you of these beautiful birds.   (If you click on the October link, scroll down to Oct 5 to see the birds.)   I stopped to watch them, and noticed the woman running up behind me never saw them, she was so focused on the two feet of pavement in front of her.  Neither did the group of four women walking the other way and talking furiously.  Nor the bike riding couple, intent on speed.  People miss the best stuff when they aren’t paying attention to where they’re going!

I kept walking, throwing in some running as I went.  I tried, during mile 6, 7 and 8 to run a quarter of a mile without stopping, but nothing doing.  Legs just aren’t there.  Plus it was HOT, but it’s going to be hot here at the end of August.  I remember running this race in prior years when the temps and the humidity were over 90.   Saturday I finished the 8 miles, enjoying memories of other times I’d run around the lake, the big tree that used to stand there, the running partner’s funny story that she told here, the time I got stung by a bee as I rounded that corner.  I saw bits of people I know, the eyes of my runner friend Cheryl in the eyes of a woman running toward me, the stance of my runner friend Jane coming over a hill, the face of a blogger friend Melanie in someone’s  face.  It was like running down memory lane.

I don’t have any pictures for you today, they’re all stored in my mind.  Maybe someday I’ll go out there and walk the 8 with a camera.  I wish you could all see this wonderful park.  There is a millage election this Tuesday to renew the park millage.  As I looked around and saw the park, packed with picnicking families, runners,walkers, people on bikes and roller blades, the swans sharing the lake with people fishing in boats, those in canoes, on pontoons, rowing, I thought; “How can we NOT agree to renew the park millage.   How can we not.”

Now I’m going to go register for that 10 miler coming up the end of this month.


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Someone's mother

Someone’s mother died yesterday.  Though it wasn’t unexpected it must have been heart-wrenching. She was a warm and funny lady with many many friends and though her name was Virginia everyone called her Boom Boom.  Evidence of her personality I guess.  Once she was sort of related to our family but divorce changed the relationship.  Still.  I feel for her daughters and  her son, for her close friends, her church, her grandchildren.  Tonight  I sit on my deck and think  about her… what a wonderful day she missed today… and how much she is being missed by her family.

Then I realize that perhaps she did have a wonderful day today – wherever she is.  And that life after this was enhanced measurably yesterday by the arrival of a woman named Boom Boom.

God speed.


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Adrift

Did ya’ll see the full moon last night?  It made me nostalgic for the lake.  You see, the last night my husband and I were there we went “bobbing” at the end of the dock.  Bobbing is our term for floating using noodles.  You can sit on the flotation devise, water up to your shoulders, and chat or contemplate or just enjoy the warm water.

That last night we took a bottle of wine down to the lake, bobbed in the 80+ degree water and watched the moon rise.  We were tired and cranky from spending the day working on the house; cleaning, doing the laundry including sheets for all the beds, installing new lighting and a new ceiling fan, pulling the wave runner out of the water, locking up the other boats.  All jobs that sadly reminded me I was leaving soon.   So it was nice to take some time and finally relax together.

We decided to go down to the water with our bottle of wine in early evening when the sun was still up, but two hours later, having watched the sun set and the moon rise, even though we had turned into prunes, we were reluctant to get out of the water.  What is it about bobbing around in warm water in the dark with the bright moon overhead that makes life just seem so right?

Now I’m back in the real world and am resisting it, unsure of myself, not certain that I want to be here.  Tonight as I’m watching the moon rise, this time through the bedroom window, I remember how it was to be bobbing in silky waters of a lake in the deep south;  the shimmer of the moonlight on the water, the bugs humming in the trees, the ducks murmuring to each other in the shadows.

And I wish I was floating there under the moon this evening.


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Reunion

My reunion with Katie was something of a disappointment.  I waited patiently in my reading corner for Katie and her Dad to return from the kennel and  I was excited when I heard them drive up.  Katie wandered around the kitchen for just a moment, then ran right over to me.  But instead of jumping on me with welcoming kisses she dropped into a “down” and began to bark at me.  Her little yips were hoarse and I’m guessing she barked pretty much the whole week she was in the kennel.  She wouldn’t let me touch her; each time I reached out she backed away and commenced to barking again.  So I sat still and let her decide on her own what to do about me.  She ran up to her Dad when he came in as if to say “There’s this LADY over there Dad but don’t worry, I’m taking care of her!”

Husband said the kennel told him Katie had been very good.  She liked their bed; apparently some dogs preferred to sleep on the floor.  Well of COURSE she liked the bed, this is Katie, the princess who hogs as many pillows as she can, even if she’s already on the couch.  And they said she had to “think” about things before she’d follow or go with any of them.  But once she decided she wanted to go outside she’d be happy to go.  That sounds so much like our little stubborn, mind-of-her-own, Katie girl!

This evening Katie and I went for a walk in her favorite park while we got reacquainted and bonded again.  I think she’s over her initial suspicion but she sure is barky!  I’m used to peaceful evenings filled with reading, napping, swimming …not the constant barking of a Sheltie recently home.  I think she had free reign to bark as much as she wanted in the kennel and she’s not yet quite under control.  Not even close.  But that’s OK…we can start training again.

As long as she’ll give up on her grudge against a wayward mama.


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Morning discoveries

This morning I went out to the attic over the garage to look for an empty box that I could use for my brother’s Christmas present.  I figured it made sense to wrap it up here in the South and leave it with him rather than ship it down later.  On my way to the garage I noticed the normal spiderweb over the walkway that gets rebuilt every night.   Then I saw the smallest, most beautiful web being spun about 4 inches beyond the first, bigger and more rustic web.

Can you see it?  Look up near the eves of the garage, though it is really right in back of the bigger web.  It is about the size of a CD, and the sun shining through makes it glow.  I watched the tiny spider move around and around, making close, delicate webbing.  It was fascinating how quickly she was building it.

Then I went inside and up to the attic in search of a box.  Searching for an empty one I noted how organized Mom was, boxes neatly labeled, stacked under the eves.

Each box was inexplicably tied with twine that over the years must have loosened with age as none of them were tight anymore.

There is a box covered in wallpaper filled with my grandmother’s china painting supplies, duly labeled.  The box itself reminds me of the wallpaper in my grandmother’s front parlor in the big old farmhouse where my mother grew up.

Grandma’s box reminded me that I’d been wanting to look for my mother’s pastels.  I used to use them as a kid and somehow the pastels I’ve purchased since then just aren’t the same.  Given my mother’s organizational skills it was easy to find the box of her art supplies.  Maybe she was a librarian in another life!  It made me sad to think that these things were tied up in boxes in the attic, and that I hadn’t found them being used in the house.  But it made me happy to find them at all!

I’ll take them home and see what I can create, with a little bit of her spirit for inspiration.

As I headed back to the welcome of air conditioning in the house I stopped by to check on my little spider.

Her web was complete, absolutely perfect, shining in the morning light.  And right in the center the little spider sat, waiting for her breakfast.

I smiled as I headed inside to make mine.


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A new day

Early this morning I was sitting on the deck looking out at the lake.  It’s the first morning of my entire 3 week stay that hasn’t dawned sunny and calm.  This morning the lake has little ripples on it and the sky is gray.  I’m eating my blueberries and cheerios, feet up on the deck railing contemplating nothing much at all when I happen to glance over at the neighbor’s pontoon floating gently at their dock.

It’s the pontoon we used to spread Mom’s and later Dad’s ashes.  The pontoon that held my remaining family and my parents’ minister as we said our last goodbyes.  I could see us all standing on it, crying and tossing flowers into the water.  I remember the words their minister used to try to console us.  I remember the deep, dark place we were all in.  And tears slid down my face.  Mom died six years ago this Sunday and this morning I am sitting on their deck eating my breakfast and remembering.  Missing them.

Then from across the lake somewhere a dog barks, a lawnmower starts, a fishing boat chugs.  A new day has begun and I take a deep breath and head out to the airport to pick up my husband.


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Random Alabama photos

It’s been a heck of a week, so I don’t have any cohesive thoughts for you…just random things I found interesting.  I’ve had car trouble, leaking oil hoses and such and the truck has been in the shop for the better part of the last three days.  I had a “rent a wreck” type car that the dealership gave me, but I was afraid to drive it far, so I’ve been “stuck” at the lake.  Oh poor me! LOL

Meanwhile, here’s a couple of photos of life here in Alabama…the first is the local polling place.  Tuesday was a primary runoff election, so it was open for business.

You can’t see in this photo but besides having a big sign on the door that says “Vote Here” there are little signs on either side of the steps pointing inward that say “vote.”  Now I’m pretty sure all the locals knew it was an election day, and where to go, and I really doubt anyone needed the additional signage.  But it was cute!

Those of you not from the south might not know about kudzu.

It grows on anything and everything down here.  It was introduced from Japan in 1876; now it’s a continual battle just to keep it from over taking our homes!  It has a blossom that smells like grape jelly, and if it weren’t so invasive it would be kind of pretty.  It often looks like topiary..only it’s out in the wild.

Wednesday I took the boat out on the lake by myself.  I haven’t been the sole person in a big boat since I was in my teens, ferrying siblings to their swimming lessons across the lake.

Funny how on this trip I’m relearning skills I took for granted 40 years ago.  Being out on the lake was nice, though in the back of my mind I was keeping my fingers crossed that I didn’t have any mechanical problems.  I remember paddling the boat home as a kid, and the lake I’m on now is MUCH bigger!  So is the boat.

I even got the boat back into the boathouse.  I’m glad no one was watching, because it wasn’t pretty, but the boat is unscathed, and the boathouse is still standing.  So there.  I had to wait for the two white ducks to meander across my bow as I idled into the dock…but you know ducks…they were there first so I waited.

I took the jet ski out later in the evening.  The lake is beautiful then, with the low sun making the red clay on the banks just glow.

Husband is flying into Atlanta tomorrow morning, so I’ll have company for the rest of my time down here.  We’re driving back up to Michigan in the next few days.  Katie is at the kennel.

I’m pretty sure she’s forgotten she even has a mama by now.


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Gulf Shores

This past weekend I visited a friend in Gulf Shores Alabama.  Turns out it was the same weekend as the free Jimmy Buffet Concert so you’d think things would be pretty busy.  But given the oil spill the beaches, those legendary beautiful soft white beaches, were virtually empty.  So sad.  Here’s just a couple of photos.

There were teams of people cleaning up the tar balls on the beach, looked a lot like sifting kitty litter.  But it was so hot!  98 degrees with heat indexes into the 100 + teens…glad it wasn’t my job.

And offshore were the booms and boats skimming oil off the surface….though it might be difficult for you to see this…

I’m sitting in the truck in the parking lot of the local library, using their wifi.  They aren’t open but it’s working OK.  Except that it’s HOT.  So I’m going back to the house where there is air but no internet.  I can’t really see what the photos looked like that I chose, but you get the idea!

Gulf Shores Alabama is beautiful, touristy, ugly, sad and HOT!  I had never been there before…and I think I’ll wait to go back until it’s fall or winter and the oil is gone.  If that ever happens.

On a good note, my friend has two black labs, so I got my dog fix for the weekend…but I’m really beginning to miss my Katie-girl.


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Life lessons learned from water-skiing

When I was a kid we lived on a largish inland lake and we’d go water-skiing most summer evenings after Dad got home from work.  We had a little blue boat with a 35 horse power outboard engine and all four of us plus Dad and sometimes Mom would pile in the boat along with our skis and life vests, towels and other debris.  We’d ski till it got dark, then we’d head home exhausted, sopping wet and very happy.

Lots of time has passed, I haven’t lived on a lake in thirty years and now if I’m lucky I might ski once a year.  Sometimes not even that.  It has become more intimidating, less familiar and much scarier to try.  When I was a teenager I could stand on one foot ankle deep in the water, ski on the other foot resting on the surface, yell “hit it!” and pop up behind the boat with no problem.  I’d land back at the same beach barely damp.

Now we ski in deep water and I struggle to get the unfamiliar ski on my foot as the life jacket floats up around my ears and the ski rope slides by behind me and the boat idles as everyone waits on me to get ready.  I panic a bit as the line pulls taut and I’m not at all sure I’m going to be able to heft my larger self out of the water.  Different boat.  Different ski.  Different me.

This week I went skiing with one of my brothers.  I was kind of afraid to try, sure that I wouldn’t be able to get up, but it was just him and me, and the water was a sheet of glass, what we used to call “water-ski water” when we were young.  So I decided it would never again be a better time to try.  Into the water I went, but two attempts later I couldn’t get myself up.

Lucky my brother is ingenious and he gave me a different, flatter, less competitive ski.  Part of me rebelled because I had always been able to use the fancy competitive ski, but part of me was resigned to accept the changes in me that meant I was less athletic.  And of course part of me thought that if I couldn’t get up on this “beginner” ski, well… I won’t go there.   But even though I was tired from being dragged twice along behind the boat, I tried a third time.  And guess what?  YES!  I popped right up! *

It was magical.  Nothing but flat water, mountains and clouds reflected as if in a  mirror, nobody else out there but us.  It’s as close as I’ll ever get to flying like a bird.  You float effortlessly through the images of trees and clouds, soaring across the water toward freedom.  It’s a feeling that is almost indescribable. 

So here’s the lesson to be learned from water-skiing:

Sometimes if you just hang on you can fly.  And sometimes you have to let go in order to regain your freedom.   The feeling can’t be bought;  if you find yourself in a position to experience it – do it.

Even if you’re really really afraid.

*disclaimer:  these aren’t pictures of ME skiing, these are my two brothers who went skiing on a previous day this week.  It’s so much fun to watch them!  And I had my camera on a stupid low resolution and didn’t realize it…so they’re grainy…but you get the idea…right?  🙂