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I have to say so many of you are up and running now, and I am so excited!
I am inviting you all to the St. Patricks Day run, in your town or here in St. Louis. Ours is a 5 mile run, and makes for a great start to the day!
I have thought, for the past 8 years, that next year I'll do that run. And guess what? I'm doing it this year! And I am excited to do it.. can't wait. It's been 9 years since I ran this run, and it still ranks as one of my favorite memories.
If you are now thinking, well, I should have started earlier.. should have kept it up... Well, start tonight. Start in the morning, walk it, run it, get started. It's nearly March!
In happiness,
Beth
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Half of me
My journey is hitting a wall today, but I will beat it down. I am physically and emotionally drained.
I just wake up somedays wondering where the strength will come from today. And it always appears, from somewhere. Not today. Today it took everything I had to get through it. This whole week has been that way. But I have suddenly realized the problem.
I pull a lot of strength from my husband. He is my biggest fan; he empowers me. If he says I can do it, I believe I can. And when I don't have him in my corner, or at least time with him to tell him I'm in his and remind me he's in mine, I don't have half the strength I need. I am better when I am complete. And with him, I am.
So tonight I am enlightened to spend some time where I should be.. my running gear will lie beside my bed, ready for me in the morning, to return to my journey, full strength.
In love,
Beth
I just wake up somedays wondering where the strength will come from today. And it always appears, from somewhere. Not today. Today it took everything I had to get through it. This whole week has been that way. But I have suddenly realized the problem.
I pull a lot of strength from my husband. He is my biggest fan; he empowers me. If he says I can do it, I believe I can. And when I don't have him in my corner, or at least time with him to tell him I'm in his and remind me he's in mine, I don't have half the strength I need. I am better when I am complete. And with him, I am.
So tonight I am enlightened to spend some time where I should be.. my running gear will lie beside my bed, ready for me in the morning, to return to my journey, full strength.
In love,
Beth
Friday, February 26, 2010
Stronger than most,,
Physically, I am stronger than most.
Yes, most.
My legs are solid muscle, with strength beyond measure.
I could kick a ball from one goal into the other. I can run for miles and miles.
My arms are defined, with broad shoulders carrying the load.
I could carry three times the weight of those around me. I can work for hours and hours.
My mind is sharp and powerful.
I could remember a random face from childhood. I can manage task upon task.
Emotionally, I am stronger than most.
Yes, most.
My soul is deep and rich, with strength beyond measure.
I could empathize and absorb the emotions surrounding me. I can contemplate for miles and miles.
My sadness is acknowledged.
I could cry into my pillow until the world slept. I can remember for hours and hours.
My happiness is infinite.
I could laugh until my breathe escapes me. I can smile enjoying task upon task.
I am stronger than most.
Yes, most.
My running miles give me hours to understand my tasks.
My running miles give me strength.
My running miles give me, me.
In warmth,
Beth
Yes, most.
My legs are solid muscle, with strength beyond measure.
I could kick a ball from one goal into the other. I can run for miles and miles.
My arms are defined, with broad shoulders carrying the load.
I could carry three times the weight of those around me. I can work for hours and hours.
My mind is sharp and powerful.
I could remember a random face from childhood. I can manage task upon task.
Emotionally, I am stronger than most.
Yes, most.
My soul is deep and rich, with strength beyond measure.
I could empathize and absorb the emotions surrounding me. I can contemplate for miles and miles.
My sadness is acknowledged.
I could cry into my pillow until the world slept. I can remember for hours and hours.
My happiness is infinite.
I could laugh until my breathe escapes me. I can smile enjoying task upon task.
I am stronger than most.
Yes, most.
My running miles give me hours to understand my tasks.
My running miles give me strength.
My running miles give me, me.
In warmth,
Beth
Thursday, February 25, 2010
The 12th
And I love birthdays... Jackson celebrated his 12th today and we enjoyed a great dinner with about 30 of our closest relatives. At one table. At my shop... Life is good today. Some days don't need a good run for perspective. Somedays just bring the good to you.
In happiness,
Beth
In happiness,
Beth
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Everything he will become...
Twelve years ago, this night, I lied terrified in a hospital bed. I was in full labor, awaiting the arrival of my baby boy. I had no concept as to the change my life would take in this moment. I loved my child as he grew inside me, but nothing prepares you for the life altering moment when your baby is placed in your arms. Everything changes. It may sound cheesy or cliche, but it is true. Love isn't real until this moment. Faith, joy, hope, fear, none of these bear weight until that instant.
I still live in that heightened reality, where everything matters more. My baby boy is now past my shoulder, although he still sits on my lap in the evenings, even if just for a moment to say goodnight. And this evening I cannot help but feel a little reflective...
My baby cried in my arms at night for the first year. I rocked him to sleep and sang him lullabies.
When he was two he learned to make me smile, and centered his days around that goal.
By his third birthday, he was already my teacher, instructing me on how to enjoy the simplest things in life. His unbinding love for everything around him just radiates from his soul.
On his fourth birthday he began to see me, not just as Mommy, but as another person in the world with him, one that could be his best friend.
Once he turned five I knew my days with him were going too quickly, and as he went into kindergarden, I cherished how tightly he held my hand. At the time I thought it was because he was afraid; now I know it was because he knew I was.
At six he had conquered dragons and wizards as he immersed from behind his books. He was already my hero, but now was finding some of his own.
At seven he found love in doing what I had loved. He played soccer; he wanted to learn the drums. He wanted to absorb all the knowledge around him and found me to be the smartest in the world.
Of course that didn't last, as eight came too quickly, with the friends and the playtime after school. He came into his own that year, finding what he liked and loving me between stops at practice and rides to friends homes.
By the time we celebrated his ninth birthday, he had learned about loss and grief. He understood more about faith than I ever could. His emotions became tangible and his feet stood firmly on the rock.
Once he turned ten I began to try to hold on a little tighter, to keep my baby boy a boy for little while longer. It doesn't work that way, I know. He had some medical scares this year and everyday became more precious. You have never feared until you have seen your own child in danger, or in pain. I watched my son seize on the floor in front me, then in the ambulance, and again at the hospital. It was the longest day, and then weeks, of my life. He was scared of the darkness that took him away for a few brief seconds at a time, but he believed that I would make it light again. He never doubted. For just a little while, he became my baby again in those weeks. Lots of lullabies and rocking, sleep overs and giggling. He reminded me he still was a child that needed his Mom. Through all of it, the testing, the challenges, and then the responsibility of living with a condition, he found his courage. And he learned how to share it with me.
That year was gone so quickly and at eleven he had emerged a responsible young man. Still young, but no longer a boy. Unfortunately, this past year was my turn to be scared of the dark. He held my hand through my sickest days and kept my spirits up in between. He prayed for me, he cried with me, he made me laugh and centered his days around that goal once more. I truly believe he hugged the sickness right out of me. Even on days when I didn't want to fight, he gave me his strength and made sure I used it. He even sang me a lullaby when I couldn't stop hurting. Loving him could make my pain disappear.
He is my light, my strength, and my legacy. And just when you think you couldn't love anything more, you get to have another year...
As I am about to post this, my son will be twelve. I am so proud of who I am... because I am his Mom; and at least for one more year, his Mommy. I am so proud of who he is, and everything he will become. Great things have already come from this young man, and I brace myself for what great things he has yet to do.
In happiness,
Beth
I still live in that heightened reality, where everything matters more. My baby boy is now past my shoulder, although he still sits on my lap in the evenings, even if just for a moment to say goodnight. And this evening I cannot help but feel a little reflective...
My baby cried in my arms at night for the first year. I rocked him to sleep and sang him lullabies.
When he was two he learned to make me smile, and centered his days around that goal.
By his third birthday, he was already my teacher, instructing me on how to enjoy the simplest things in life. His unbinding love for everything around him just radiates from his soul.
On his fourth birthday he began to see me, not just as Mommy, but as another person in the world with him, one that could be his best friend.
Once he turned five I knew my days with him were going too quickly, and as he went into kindergarden, I cherished how tightly he held my hand. At the time I thought it was because he was afraid; now I know it was because he knew I was.
At six he had conquered dragons and wizards as he immersed from behind his books. He was already my hero, but now was finding some of his own.
At seven he found love in doing what I had loved. He played soccer; he wanted to learn the drums. He wanted to absorb all the knowledge around him and found me to be the smartest in the world.
Of course that didn't last, as eight came too quickly, with the friends and the playtime after school. He came into his own that year, finding what he liked and loving me between stops at practice and rides to friends homes.
By the time we celebrated his ninth birthday, he had learned about loss and grief. He understood more about faith than I ever could. His emotions became tangible and his feet stood firmly on the rock.
Once he turned ten I began to try to hold on a little tighter, to keep my baby boy a boy for little while longer. It doesn't work that way, I know. He had some medical scares this year and everyday became more precious. You have never feared until you have seen your own child in danger, or in pain. I watched my son seize on the floor in front me, then in the ambulance, and again at the hospital. It was the longest day, and then weeks, of my life. He was scared of the darkness that took him away for a few brief seconds at a time, but he believed that I would make it light again. He never doubted. For just a little while, he became my baby again in those weeks. Lots of lullabies and rocking, sleep overs and giggling. He reminded me he still was a child that needed his Mom. Through all of it, the testing, the challenges, and then the responsibility of living with a condition, he found his courage. And he learned how to share it with me.
That year was gone so quickly and at eleven he had emerged a responsible young man. Still young, but no longer a boy. Unfortunately, this past year was my turn to be scared of the dark. He held my hand through my sickest days and kept my spirits up in between. He prayed for me, he cried with me, he made me laugh and centered his days around that goal once more. I truly believe he hugged the sickness right out of me. Even on days when I didn't want to fight, he gave me his strength and made sure I used it. He even sang me a lullaby when I couldn't stop hurting. Loving him could make my pain disappear.
He is my light, my strength, and my legacy. And just when you think you couldn't love anything more, you get to have another year...
As I am about to post this, my son will be twelve. I am so proud of who I am... because I am his Mom; and at least for one more year, his Mommy. I am so proud of who he is, and everything he will become. Great things have already come from this young man, and I brace myself for what great things he has yet to do.
In happiness,
Beth
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
For what it's worth...
Our world is truly beautiful. You don't see it from the clouded glass of a car. It is blurred from your own layers of filth and in the speed at which you ignore it. The burning fuel screams over the whispers of our mother, never allowing us to be close as we should. I ache for those who travel faceless in the cars passing by... only sharing their worth at the value of the label on their transportation.
I see everything clearly for one hour a day, outside the walls of this american lifestyle. The clouds are breathtaking settled above the horizon. Nothing blocks my clear view of what surrounds me. My feet will never travel at such a speed that I can ignore what lies ahead of me, or lose sight of the trail behind me. I am immersed in mother earth, and fueled by her gifts. I hear my own thoughts, my own breath, my own footprints as I place them, each and every one. I am never faceless, wearing my determination and love openly on it. My one simple label reads LIVESTRONG. And that is enough to to share my worth in a passing glance.
Our world is beautiful. I hope you see it, and see it in you, everyday you are blessed enough to still be here.
In spired,
Beth
I see everything clearly for one hour a day, outside the walls of this american lifestyle. The clouds are breathtaking settled above the horizon. Nothing blocks my clear view of what surrounds me. My feet will never travel at such a speed that I can ignore what lies ahead of me, or lose sight of the trail behind me. I am immersed in mother earth, and fueled by her gifts. I hear my own thoughts, my own breath, my own footprints as I place them, each and every one. I am never faceless, wearing my determination and love openly on it. My one simple label reads LIVESTRONG. And that is enough to to share my worth in a passing glance.
Our world is beautiful. I hope you see it, and see it in you, everyday you are blessed enough to still be here.
In spired,
Beth
Monday, February 22, 2010
Because I run.
My legs are killing me! Doesn't that just make you want to go out for a run? :) I do... I love this pain.
I have managed, for two days, to stay somewhat in control while running two jobs, starting a nonprofit, managing family schedules/ activities, and rehabbing my leg and fevered body. I stayed in control only because I went for a run this morning. Exhausted, emotionally and physically, I still pulled myself out of the warmth of my bed and ran in the cold. I wanted so badly to get another hour, even another 15 minutes of sleep. Something has clicked in me though. The light is turned on. And not being able to run for a few days of sickness has made me appreciate it even more..
I hurt. Everything aches. And it feels so good. My brain is keeping it all straight and my sleep will heal my wounds. My muscles will wake up sore, but stronger. My legs will hold me up again through my long day tomorrow. And everyday I will love someone better, feel something stronger, and laugh even harder because I run. Because I take time for me.
I can do this. I can do all this and keep time for me. I will run the half marathon in April, and again two weeks later... because I can.
In training,
Beth
I have managed, for two days, to stay somewhat in control while running two jobs, starting a nonprofit, managing family schedules/ activities, and rehabbing my leg and fevered body. I stayed in control only because I went for a run this morning. Exhausted, emotionally and physically, I still pulled myself out of the warmth of my bed and ran in the cold. I wanted so badly to get another hour, even another 15 minutes of sleep. Something has clicked in me though. The light is turned on. And not being able to run for a few days of sickness has made me appreciate it even more..
I hurt. Everything aches. And it feels so good. My brain is keeping it all straight and my sleep will heal my wounds. My muscles will wake up sore, but stronger. My legs will hold me up again through my long day tomorrow. And everyday I will love someone better, feel something stronger, and laugh even harder because I run. Because I take time for me.
I can do this. I can do all this and keep time for me. I will run the half marathon in April, and again two weeks later... because I can.
In training,
Beth
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