Somehow I didn't imagine myself back here again--back to that dark place inhabited by metal folding chairs, where shadowed faces are looking into mine as I confess: "Hi. My name's Sarah. And I'm STILL a cookie craver."
That's where I was last December, when almost every cold afternoon and evening involved cookies and hot cocoa, but I guess I really expected that with a year's presence of WW in my life, I wouldn't go back to being a CC. When it came time to do the Christmas baking this year, I found out differently.
Now, it is quite normal for me to do some moderate cookie baking at Christmas time, but having passed through a season of economic hardship, I had decided that I would do more baking than usual, so that I would have a little something to share with all of our family and friends. Consequently, I made a list of nine different types of cookies, and the Monday before Thanksgiving, I started working.
Woe is me! If I had only known that my lofty cookie list would extend one big baking day into THREE. On that first Monday, I got up at 6am, and started running the pre-cut sugar cookies through the oven. Those were the easy ones. While those were baking, I mixed up two other batters. By four that afternoon, I had sugar cookies in four darling designs, two recipes of chocolate chip cookies, two recipes of gingersnaps, and a pan of butterscotch blondies. I was done. Best of all, I had managed to eat only two cookies the entire day. Not too flabby (I mean shabby, subliminally). It might also be helpful to note, that my Weight Watchers meeting was the next day, and some secret place in me wanted to be able to report my almost demi-god resistance of that many cookies at close range. I had looked Medusa in the face, and not turned to stone.
Alas, Medusa's gaze must have had a delayed effect, and alas, I must be mortal; because after my Tuesday meeting, I went back to baking, and that's when I started over-sampling the goods. The valley of the shadow of baking chips and gloppy beaters was just too much for me! There was no place to turn where cookies were not cooling. Because my daughter was snitching cookies every time my back was turned, I'd been forced to surround the living room coffee table with the three foot high extendo yard, and put the cooling racks in the enclosure. So there they were, in the MIDDLE of everything.
Still, the baking was not concluded. Yet on my list were the peanut butter blossoms, the mint-chocolate chip cookies, the white chocolate lemon biscotti, and the mint-chocolate biscotti. With Thanksgiving only two days away, I decided to post-pone the final recipes until closer to Christmas. Yes, this seemed like a good plan. I was exhausted with baking anyway, and truthfully, rather disturbed at my lingering weakness for cookies. Have them in the house seemed an impossible temptation. I was right where I was a year before. I had to have one everyday with my cup of tea. Granted, most days I managed to keep it to ONE and not FOUR, but still, a habit was re-forming.
That habit, in conglomeration with left over pecan pie from Thanksgiving, ate away at my resolve in the days following the holiday. The cookies were calling me; the pie was guilting me. Poor, poor pecan pie. I was the only one eating him up. If I didn't eat him, who would? What a terrible waste . . . .
But wait, wasn't this exactly where I was a year ago? Eating leftover food off my children's plates because after all, children were starving in Africa? No problem though, I was going to my meeting on Tuesday morning, and I would just get right back on track.
And that's when Weight Watchers, the one place (outside of church) I had come to expect dependability and stability, threw me a huge curve ball. Sigh. Cookies anyone?
Monday, January 17, 2011
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Sinu-uptitis
Well, on the weight loss front, the entire months of November and December were kind of a wash, and it all started with a bad case of Sinu-uptitis. I probably let myself get over tired in October. I was training four times a week, and I did three fund raisers. Whatever the cause may have been, the week after the Denny's fundraiser, I got a nasty head cold and sinus infection.
The first week of being under the weather, I was fairly reasonable about the whole thing. I was sick. I had to take some time off, rest, and medicate. I'd be back doing my thing the next week. But I wasn't. As I headed into the next week, I couldn't have run if I'd wanted to. My head felt like a bowling ball that was getting ready to roll away, and I was starting to get really up-tight about
ONE) being behind on my training schedule, and
TWO) laying around, wanting to eat more, and not being able to compensate for the extra with exercise.
Yep, it was a bad case of Sinu-uptitus.
And it came at such a bad time. With birthdays, Thanksgiving, and an anniversary looming on the horizon, I was not feeling my usual fortitude in relation to tracking well and sticking to my guns. Indeed, I was all geared up to eat happy (and happy is an emotion; you can eat emotionally just because you're happy). Though I did manage to maintain my weight during my bout of sinu-uptitus, I gained almost five pounds the next week.
What could I have done differently? Well, honestly, I'm really not sure. We all get worn out sometimes. We all get sick sometimes. Rarely are we able to control the timing of illness. We just have to start doing what is normal again when we feel better . . . if life lets us. Holidays, however, have a way of throwing a kink in normal; especially since normal is, after all, just a setting on the dryer. (haha.)
I think if anything, what I could have done a little better with Thanksgiving (and Christmas) is a little less giving up on the week, and a little more salvaging the day. What I mean is, I really reverted back to some bad dieter's habits. What used to happen went kind of like this:
Start diet Monday
Mess up on diet Wednesday
Scratch the rest of the week
Start diet Monday
When I started Weight Watchers, things improved a bit, and we progressed to this:
Start new week after Monday morning meeting
Have a bad start on Wednesday morning
Start again Thursday
Eventually, rather than throwing away the potential for an entire week, or an entire day, I learned to move on immediately to the next snack or meal. The days didn't have to be perfect--just consistent efforts. The Wednesday evening before Thanksgiving, I let the old habits take over; and those habits stayed king of the hill until the next Monday night. Not good.
If I think about it, the line of reasoning that leads to this kind of eating, really doesn't make sense; though somehow it is given veracity in relationship to food. Think about it. How stupid would it be if you got pulled over for speeding on the way to work in the morning, and after you got a ticket, you pulled back onto the road and said, "Well, I messed up, I guess I may as well speed for the rest of the day and drive slower tomorrow!"
That really, REALLY makes NO sense! So. I guess the next time I see tasty occasions coming along on the heals of sinu-uptitus, I'd better get my head on straight and work on the anti-binge-otics right away. List those obstacles, make a plan, and feel good about what you eat--and what you don't!
The first week of being under the weather, I was fairly reasonable about the whole thing. I was sick. I had to take some time off, rest, and medicate. I'd be back doing my thing the next week. But I wasn't. As I headed into the next week, I couldn't have run if I'd wanted to. My head felt like a bowling ball that was getting ready to roll away, and I was starting to get really up-tight about
ONE) being behind on my training schedule, and
TWO) laying around, wanting to eat more, and not being able to compensate for the extra with exercise.
Yep, it was a bad case of Sinu-uptitus.
And it came at such a bad time. With birthdays, Thanksgiving, and an anniversary looming on the horizon, I was not feeling my usual fortitude in relation to tracking well and sticking to my guns. Indeed, I was all geared up to eat happy (and happy is an emotion; you can eat emotionally just because you're happy). Though I did manage to maintain my weight during my bout of sinu-uptitus, I gained almost five pounds the next week.
What could I have done differently? Well, honestly, I'm really not sure. We all get worn out sometimes. We all get sick sometimes. Rarely are we able to control the timing of illness. We just have to start doing what is normal again when we feel better . . . if life lets us. Holidays, however, have a way of throwing a kink in normal; especially since normal is, after all, just a setting on the dryer. (haha.)
I think if anything, what I could have done a little better with Thanksgiving (and Christmas) is a little less giving up on the week, and a little more salvaging the day. What I mean is, I really reverted back to some bad dieter's habits. What used to happen went kind of like this:
Start diet Monday
Mess up on diet Wednesday
Scratch the rest of the week
Start diet Monday
When I started Weight Watchers, things improved a bit, and we progressed to this:
Start new week after Monday morning meeting
Have a bad start on Wednesday morning
Start again Thursday
Eventually, rather than throwing away the potential for an entire week, or an entire day, I learned to move on immediately to the next snack or meal. The days didn't have to be perfect--just consistent efforts. The Wednesday evening before Thanksgiving, I let the old habits take over; and those habits stayed king of the hill until the next Monday night. Not good.
If I think about it, the line of reasoning that leads to this kind of eating, really doesn't make sense; though somehow it is given veracity in relationship to food. Think about it. How stupid would it be if you got pulled over for speeding on the way to work in the morning, and after you got a ticket, you pulled back onto the road and said, "Well, I messed up, I guess I may as well speed for the rest of the day and drive slower tomorrow!"
That really, REALLY makes NO sense! So. I guess the next time I see tasty occasions coming along on the heals of sinu-uptitus, I'd better get my head on straight and work on the anti-binge-otics right away. List those obstacles, make a plan, and feel good about what you eat--and what you don't!
Monday, January 3, 2011
Being Normal
Four days after my last post, I finally broke through the top of the BMI barrier. I weighed in at 147.6 pounds and officially entered the healthy weight category. That week, I got on my Wii balance board, and it glibly announced, "That's Normal!"
I've never had to deal with normalcy before, and honestly, I'm not sure quite what I'm supposed to do with it (other than do a dance that I'm pretty sure doesn't qualify as normal). For most of my adult life, I've shouted from the rooftops, that "normal" is just a setting on the dryer. I think this statement rings half true, and half compensation for all the other abnormalities in my life. To say that I've had my share of idiosyncrasies since adolescence, is an understatement.
In the tenth grade, I showed up for my first day of summer school wearing a self-selected dress that, for loudness of color, earned me the nickname "Miss Tahitian Treat" for the rest of the school year. I wore large mini-mousish bows; I had a propensity for mis-matched plaids; I penciled an entire Star Trek novel into a three ring binder (now aptly burned); and Spock was my hero.
After college, my wardrobe had improved, but I still earned my laurels in the unorthodox by teaching English classes outdoors, in cemeteries, at Starbucks, in the dark, in large slippers, and occasionally, incognito. I also walked the outskirts of the teacher's house property barefoot, reading Tennyson out loud. So yes, "normal" was just a setting on the dryer. It was not who I was, and not nearly as interesting.
Well, unfortunately for me, the time came when the fiction had to hit the fan. One cannot wear two plaids together, reading poetry in your bare feet in the south inevitably leads to fire ant incidents, Spock's ears are fake, and individuality is rarely truly appreciated. There was also nothing at all normal about the realization that at this time last year, I carried around the cumulative weight of both my children (57 pounds) ALL THE TIME! No wonder I hurt. No wonder I was exhausted.
No wonder "normal" finally feels like an o.k. way to be! My overall risk for diabetes and heart disease just diminished substantially. The journey to normal has been worth every past hurtle, and will be worth every future obstacle. I am excited to help others find their way to normal . . . well mostly. I just can't resist. Live long and prosper, ya'll.
I've never had to deal with normalcy before, and honestly, I'm not sure quite what I'm supposed to do with it (other than do a dance that I'm pretty sure doesn't qualify as normal). For most of my adult life, I've shouted from the rooftops, that "normal" is just a setting on the dryer. I think this statement rings half true, and half compensation for all the other abnormalities in my life. To say that I've had my share of idiosyncrasies since adolescence, is an understatement.
In the tenth grade, I showed up for my first day of summer school wearing a self-selected dress that, for loudness of color, earned me the nickname "Miss Tahitian Treat" for the rest of the school year. I wore large mini-mousish bows; I had a propensity for mis-matched plaids; I penciled an entire Star Trek novel into a three ring binder (now aptly burned); and Spock was my hero.
After college, my wardrobe had improved, but I still earned my laurels in the unorthodox by teaching English classes outdoors, in cemeteries, at Starbucks, in the dark, in large slippers, and occasionally, incognito. I also walked the outskirts of the teacher's house property barefoot, reading Tennyson out loud. So yes, "normal" was just a setting on the dryer. It was not who I was, and not nearly as interesting.
Well, unfortunately for me, the time came when the fiction had to hit the fan. One cannot wear two plaids together, reading poetry in your bare feet in the south inevitably leads to fire ant incidents, Spock's ears are fake, and individuality is rarely truly appreciated. There was also nothing at all normal about the realization that at this time last year, I carried around the cumulative weight of both my children (57 pounds) ALL THE TIME! No wonder I hurt. No wonder I was exhausted.
No wonder "normal" finally feels like an o.k. way to be! My overall risk for diabetes and heart disease just diminished substantially. The journey to normal has been worth every past hurtle, and will be worth every future obstacle. I am excited to help others find their way to normal . . . well mostly. I just can't resist. Live long and prosper, ya'll.
I'm BAAAaaack!
My apologies to everyone for dropping off the face of the planet. I got hit with the proverbial meteor shower of events. Fundraising and training (still going on BTW) wore me out--not to mention my husband's b-day, my mom's b-day, Thanksgiving, my anniversary, cookie baking and other Christmas preparations!
Happy New Year! I have so much to write about that, rather than bemoan how behind I am, I will just whet your appetite for some of what's coming and move on to the good stuff. Soon to come are comments and digressions on cold weather blues, lurking cookie addictions, being more flexible than I ever wanted to be, how I almost-was-still-might-be-a-military-wife, the marathon that is my marathon, the blizzard that snowed me in with the refrigerator, a good whine about weight watchers, and finally, learning from some history.
Also, I intend to stretch myself this year and learn to add pictures, gadgets, and slideshows to this blog. My husband has promised to be my tutorial instructor. I can't wait to post pictures of the last year--what a dramatic change! I am profoundly grateful for this journey!
Happy New Year! I have so much to write about that, rather than bemoan how behind I am, I will just whet your appetite for some of what's coming and move on to the good stuff. Soon to come are comments and digressions on cold weather blues, lurking cookie addictions, being more flexible than I ever wanted to be, how I almost-was-still-might-be-a-military-wife, the marathon that is my marathon, the blizzard that snowed me in with the refrigerator, a good whine about weight watchers, and finally, learning from some history.
Also, I intend to stretch myself this year and learn to add pictures, gadgets, and slideshows to this blog. My husband has promised to be my tutorial instructor. I can't wait to post pictures of the last year--what a dramatic change! I am profoundly grateful for this journey!
Friday, November 5, 2010
Freezing My Skinny Tail Off!
Today, you cannot tell that I have lost almost 55 pounds, because I am wearing jeans, socks, a t-shirt, a sweatshirt, a jacket, a bathrobe, and slippers, to make up for the several layers of fat that have been gloriously compromised during 2010. In about eight weeks, I will celebrate a full year of commitment to life style change, and a CHANGE it certainly has been. I look at pictures from this time last year, and I just can't believe the difference that loosing this weight has made in my life. I won't say it has solved all my problems, or been the magic cure for everything; however, it sure does give you something very positive to cling to when things aren't going so well.
Seriously though, now that the temperature is dropping, I am finding that I get cold much faster than I did last winter. Layering fashionably is a challenge with my closet in it's fluctuating condition. Try looking put together in a size 14 pants (now way to big), a size large t-shirt, and an x-large sweatshirt. I had a fairly functional summer wardrobe, but my winter clothes were mostly very large. Big sweatshirt I can get away with, but over-baggy pants are more of a challenge. Oh well. This problem is a good problem to have, and I'm finding, with a little work and creativity, I have put together 4 or 5 decent casual outfits, and a few dressy ones, for going out in. Who cares what I look like in the house?
I wanted to do this post, because it's been awhile since I just did a blog on how the weight-loss process is coming along. Ironically, about 10 days after I posted about my plateau, I was able to break through and lost 2.8 pounds. Last week I dropped 0.6, less than I'd hoped due to the curse of the moons and tides, but I'll see the weight come off next week, so it doesn't matter. I also dropped a point this week, since I am so close to 151 pounds.
151 POUNDS! I really cannot believe I'm talking about ME. I don't always recognize myself when I walk past a mirror. I have a collar bone and shoulder blades. I have correct proportions. My husband can pick me up and throw me over his shoulder (but I told him if he was gonna go all Indiana Jones on me, he'd better carry me over the threshold first!). I am going to need to put size 8/10 clothes on Santa's list for Christmas. So yes, there's been a whole lot going on in life outside of Weight Watchers and and the LLS marathon (alas, another blog), but this Thanksgiving is going to find me thankful for a great many things—including not being mistaken for the turkey!
Seriously though, now that the temperature is dropping, I am finding that I get cold much faster than I did last winter. Layering fashionably is a challenge with my closet in it's fluctuating condition. Try looking put together in a size 14 pants (now way to big), a size large t-shirt, and an x-large sweatshirt. I had a fairly functional summer wardrobe, but my winter clothes were mostly very large. Big sweatshirt I can get away with, but over-baggy pants are more of a challenge. Oh well. This problem is a good problem to have, and I'm finding, with a little work and creativity, I have put together 4 or 5 decent casual outfits, and a few dressy ones, for going out in. Who cares what I look like in the house?
I wanted to do this post, because it's been awhile since I just did a blog on how the weight-loss process is coming along. Ironically, about 10 days after I posted about my plateau, I was able to break through and lost 2.8 pounds. Last week I dropped 0.6, less than I'd hoped due to the curse of the moons and tides, but I'll see the weight come off next week, so it doesn't matter. I also dropped a point this week, since I am so close to 151 pounds.
151 POUNDS! I really cannot believe I'm talking about ME. I don't always recognize myself when I walk past a mirror. I have a collar bone and shoulder blades. I have correct proportions. My husband can pick me up and throw me over his shoulder (but I told him if he was gonna go all Indiana Jones on me, he'd better carry me over the threshold first!). I am going to need to put size 8/10 clothes on Santa's list for Christmas. So yes, there's been a whole lot going on in life outside of Weight Watchers and and the LLS marathon (alas, another blog), but this Thanksgiving is going to find me thankful for a great many things—including not being mistaken for the turkey!
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Me, Myself, and I Have No Idea What I am Doing!
On October 30th, I got to go trick-or-treating with Buzz Light Year and his Inter-gallactic Bunny Buddy. We would knock on neighbors' doors, and folks would melt like chocolate at the sight of my travelers from outer space. The Buzz Light Year Costume had taken a bit of alteration as my son is still small for his age. I'd put scrunchies around his ankles to keep the pant legs from falling over his shoes, and I'd folded the long sleeves into his jacket. I'd also made sure he'd been to the potty before he suited up, because getting to the porta-star in that get-up would have created an inter-gallactic incident.
My next job, was dressing up my daughter. Initially, I had planned for her to be a clown. I had a great blue curly wigg, some cute clothes to miss-match, a couple different shoes. She would have been adorable, but alas, her majesty had strong objections. I got her dressed, and she looked down at her mis-matched shirt and shoes, threw her wig on the floor, stomped her foot, and announced, “I NO PRETTY!!!” Now I do not normally cave-in to such tirades, but since it was supposed to be a fun evening, I consented to her opinion. I just didn't assume she was old enough to have an opinion. After a brief dig in the play clothes box, she emerged with her Easter headband and said, “I BUNNY!”
There. All that settled, and we were off, and we had a great time. These challenges are always interesting, but somehow, I feel much more qualified to handle them than some of the fund-raising issues I have faced in the last month. Have you ever felt like a fish out of water? Well, that's precisely what I have felt like the night before each one of my three fund raisers so far. Six weeks ago, I was a brave little marathoner-wanna-be with my notebook and my cup of coffee, thinking of brilliant ideas to change the course of LLS fundraising as we know it. Now, after a largely unattended yardsale/bakesale fundraiser, a piano recital for three, and a Denny's benefit night with my anxieties carefully tucked into an awesome looking two-piece suit, I confess. I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing.
However, I am cluelessly trying very hard. And, lest I sound too downcast, let us recount the positive. My first fundraiser caused me to have some very good thoughts about all the folks around me that I am so thankful for, and my second fundraiser found me seated behind a very handsome grand piano and playing my favorites for some favorite ladies. Thanks mom, grandma, and Mildred for attending. In regards to my third fundraiser, well, I won't say practice makes perfect, I'll just suggest that prayer and planning come highly recommended.
When I called Denny's four weeks ago and booked their family room for a silent auction event, I had no idea how involved the whole evening would become. First, I got flyers out about the event, and then I started scavenging my own home for possible auction items. The next Saturday, I took my flyers to the mall and started canvassing businesses for donations of gift cards and small merchandise. In this endeavor, I will thank heaven for the generosity of individuals, because aside from Sears, most said their hands were tied by the corporate office. Donations I did receive, came from people who were willing to purchase items from their place of employment and donate them personally.
On Friday, a week before the event, I received a phone call from Denny's asking if I would be willing to come in at 2:00 and meet with a manager about the event. I thought they just wanted to meet me (I had arranged the event on the phone) and get some paperwork; however, when I arrived the next day (mercifully, dressed to the hilt because I was going straight to my piano recital fundraiser from there), I realized I was there for a MEETING. The manager ushered me to a table, where another manager and a district manager waited with their laptop computers and calendars. I had to pitch my whole event right there.
Nerves and all, I blundered through, and in spite of having no idea what I was doing, I left an hour later with Denny's totally on board. They let me post a large poster board sign, flyers, a tip jar, and table tents for the entire week previous to the event. In addition, they sent e-mails about the event to the 2,600 people on their mailing list. I no longer felt like I was in the effort alone. Not only was Denny's a great fund raising partner from start to finish, but once again, family and friends rallied around with auction items, ideas, encouragement, and helping hands.
So how did it go? Well, that's coming in another blog. I am very close to having a final total for the event, but I'm not quite there yet. Suffice it to say, it went better than the first two fund-raisers. Trick-or-treating with the kids did make me think that my approach has been all wrong though. I need to follow Olivia's sage advice. (Olivia is a fashion savvy, little girl piggy, on children's television). Olivia's Rule-of-life #14 is that there is no problem that the right costume can't solve. What I need is the right costume—maybe Hello Kitty?--and then a super-cute candy/money bucket. Then when people open the door, they'll listen to my LLS pitch, and throw all of their available funds into my super-cute bucket and wish they had a Hello Kitty outfit like mine. Naw. I think I'll stick to prayer and planning. With my luck, folks would just call the police. =)
My next job, was dressing up my daughter. Initially, I had planned for her to be a clown. I had a great blue curly wigg, some cute clothes to miss-match, a couple different shoes. She would have been adorable, but alas, her majesty had strong objections. I got her dressed, and she looked down at her mis-matched shirt and shoes, threw her wig on the floor, stomped her foot, and announced, “I NO PRETTY!!!” Now I do not normally cave-in to such tirades, but since it was supposed to be a fun evening, I consented to her opinion. I just didn't assume she was old enough to have an opinion. After a brief dig in the play clothes box, she emerged with her Easter headband and said, “I BUNNY!”
There. All that settled, and we were off, and we had a great time. These challenges are always interesting, but somehow, I feel much more qualified to handle them than some of the fund-raising issues I have faced in the last month. Have you ever felt like a fish out of water? Well, that's precisely what I have felt like the night before each one of my three fund raisers so far. Six weeks ago, I was a brave little marathoner-wanna-be with my notebook and my cup of coffee, thinking of brilliant ideas to change the course of LLS fundraising as we know it. Now, after a largely unattended yardsale/bakesale fundraiser, a piano recital for three, and a Denny's benefit night with my anxieties carefully tucked into an awesome looking two-piece suit, I confess. I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing.
However, I am cluelessly trying very hard. And, lest I sound too downcast, let us recount the positive. My first fundraiser caused me to have some very good thoughts about all the folks around me that I am so thankful for, and my second fundraiser found me seated behind a very handsome grand piano and playing my favorites for some favorite ladies. Thanks mom, grandma, and Mildred for attending. In regards to my third fundraiser, well, I won't say practice makes perfect, I'll just suggest that prayer and planning come highly recommended.
When I called Denny's four weeks ago and booked their family room for a silent auction event, I had no idea how involved the whole evening would become. First, I got flyers out about the event, and then I started scavenging my own home for possible auction items. The next Saturday, I took my flyers to the mall and started canvassing businesses for donations of gift cards and small merchandise. In this endeavor, I will thank heaven for the generosity of individuals, because aside from Sears, most said their hands were tied by the corporate office. Donations I did receive, came from people who were willing to purchase items from their place of employment and donate them personally.
On Friday, a week before the event, I received a phone call from Denny's asking if I would be willing to come in at 2:00 and meet with a manager about the event. I thought they just wanted to meet me (I had arranged the event on the phone) and get some paperwork; however, when I arrived the next day (mercifully, dressed to the hilt because I was going straight to my piano recital fundraiser from there), I realized I was there for a MEETING. The manager ushered me to a table, where another manager and a district manager waited with their laptop computers and calendars. I had to pitch my whole event right there.
Nerves and all, I blundered through, and in spite of having no idea what I was doing, I left an hour later with Denny's totally on board. They let me post a large poster board sign, flyers, a tip jar, and table tents for the entire week previous to the event. In addition, they sent e-mails about the event to the 2,600 people on their mailing list. I no longer felt like I was in the effort alone. Not only was Denny's a great fund raising partner from start to finish, but once again, family and friends rallied around with auction items, ideas, encouragement, and helping hands.
So how did it go? Well, that's coming in another blog. I am very close to having a final total for the event, but I'm not quite there yet. Suffice it to say, it went better than the first two fund-raisers. Trick-or-treating with the kids did make me think that my approach has been all wrong though. I need to follow Olivia's sage advice. (Olivia is a fashion savvy, little girl piggy, on children's television). Olivia's Rule-of-life #14 is that there is no problem that the right costume can't solve. What I need is the right costume—maybe Hello Kitty?--and then a super-cute candy/money bucket. Then when people open the door, they'll listen to my LLS pitch, and throw all of their available funds into my super-cute bucket and wish they had a Hello Kitty outfit like mine. Naw. I think I'll stick to prayer and planning. With my luck, folks would just call the police. =)
Monday, November 1, 2010
God Bless the Broken Road
I know you're all waiting to hear how the Denny's fundraiser went, but I'm still waiting on a couple of totals to come in. In the meantime, please excuse the delayed drumroll and backtrack a couple of weeks with me . . .
I dreamed about the years I spent
On diet flukes
Hoping for the day my pants
Would fit like Daisy Duke's.
But now I've lost that fifty-some
I think my skinny brain's gone numb
Cause I've signed up somehow to run
Clear to Timbuktu!
I think about a little girl
Every hill I climb,
I think about what she's been through
When I improve my time,
For we all run this marathon
So she's not alone on the path she's on,
She's the hero of this song!
The one who's fighting through.
Cause every hard fought mile
Leads me to where you are,
Heroes who've gone before,
They are like morning stars,
Leading me on my way
Past aching legs and arms,
This much I pray is true,
God bless the broken road,
That finds a cure for you.
(borrowed from “God Bless the Broken Road”, Rascal Flatts)
About two weeks ago now, I had the incredible experience of my first cross-country seven mile run. I had been keeping up well with the mileage, but I needed to know that all that running around and around the track, was actually helping build the endurance I would need for the open road.
The Thursday afternoon I was scheduled to run seven miles, it was so beautiful outside, that it wasn't hard to get adventurous, strap on my gatorade laden backpack, and set-off on a pre-mapped seven mile course. Over the course of the next hour and a half, I ran into obstacles of all kinds—steep hills, sidewalk cracks, catwalks with four flights of steps, and stretches of road that seemed to never end.
Finally in the last two miles of my adventure, I came around a corner that changed my direction almost directly west. The sun was about an hour from setting, and in the distance the mountains were bathed in amber light. The beauty charged me—propelled me forward. I felt like I was running on a street of gold, like I was getting a sneak peak into a glorious part of my eternal future.
About a mile later, I was home, and getting home had rarely felt so good, because of all the work I'd finished getting there, and because of the people waiting to welcome me. In that way, running and coming home are briefly prophetic, short sooth-sayers of what waits for us at the end of our last mile. When I cross the yellow tape near the River Jordan, I will be ready to give up my sneakers for a barefoot wade through the cool waters. On the other side, I will meet the author and finisher of my faith, Jesus Christ—otherwise known as the Great Physician. Jesus, keep Caden in your capable hands. Teach us your goodness through sickness and healing. God bless the broken road.
I dreamed about the years I spent
On diet flukes
Hoping for the day my pants
Would fit like Daisy Duke's.
But now I've lost that fifty-some
I think my skinny brain's gone numb
Cause I've signed up somehow to run
Clear to Timbuktu!
I think about a little girl
Every hill I climb,
I think about what she's been through
When I improve my time,
For we all run this marathon
So she's not alone on the path she's on,
She's the hero of this song!
The one who's fighting through.
Cause every hard fought mile
Leads me to where you are,
Heroes who've gone before,
They are like morning stars,
Leading me on my way
Past aching legs and arms,
This much I pray is true,
God bless the broken road,
That finds a cure for you.
(borrowed from “God Bless the Broken Road”, Rascal Flatts)
About two weeks ago now, I had the incredible experience of my first cross-country seven mile run. I had been keeping up well with the mileage, but I needed to know that all that running around and around the track, was actually helping build the endurance I would need for the open road.
The Thursday afternoon I was scheduled to run seven miles, it was so beautiful outside, that it wasn't hard to get adventurous, strap on my gatorade laden backpack, and set-off on a pre-mapped seven mile course. Over the course of the next hour and a half, I ran into obstacles of all kinds—steep hills, sidewalk cracks, catwalks with four flights of steps, and stretches of road that seemed to never end.
Finally in the last two miles of my adventure, I came around a corner that changed my direction almost directly west. The sun was about an hour from setting, and in the distance the mountains were bathed in amber light. The beauty charged me—propelled me forward. I felt like I was running on a street of gold, like I was getting a sneak peak into a glorious part of my eternal future.
About a mile later, I was home, and getting home had rarely felt so good, because of all the work I'd finished getting there, and because of the people waiting to welcome me. In that way, running and coming home are briefly prophetic, short sooth-sayers of what waits for us at the end of our last mile. When I cross the yellow tape near the River Jordan, I will be ready to give up my sneakers for a barefoot wade through the cool waters. On the other side, I will meet the author and finisher of my faith, Jesus Christ—otherwise known as the Great Physician. Jesus, keep Caden in your capable hands. Teach us your goodness through sickness and healing. God bless the broken road.
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