Tuesday, May 25, 2010

...and This Being Hard for Me Is Better than It Coming Easily

I've had an epiphany. It came this morning while the woman in the bloody knee brace lapped me: I will never be a great runner. I will never win a race. In fact, I could possibly come in dead last in every event I attempt.

And that's okay.

Whew! It feels good to get that out! I am not athletic. I AM NOT ATHLETIC!!! Wow, that's empowering! Those of you who know me probably think I'm being sarcastic right now (sarcasm being one of my strengths), but I'm not. I will never be a gifted athlete. A more-than-decent dancer, yes. A better-than-good artist, of course. I'm a fantastic mom, an above-average wife and daughter, a popular stylist (among my clients), a great friend...but not a runner by nature.

That's when it hit me that running this marathon for Sheldon means more because it isn't easy for me. If it were easy, wouldn't that take away from it? What would be the point? This is supposed to be something extraordinary! In my whole life, almost four decades (this time around), I've only been able to run five straight miles without walking. It always took me slightly over an hour to run them, too. I'm not joking when I say that I can walk faster than I "run" - I have a long stride when I'm walking. When I'm running, not so much.

The other hard thing is asking for money in a down economy - even for a great cause like this. If you could donate even a small amount, though, please do. Every little bit helps me reach my goal - a cure for cancer.

My Fundraising Page

(Stay tuned. I'm sure I'll need one of you to remind me of this post in the near future...)

Friday, May 7, 2010

Good-bye, Sheldon

In the eight years I knew you:

  • I laughed because you always had a twinkle in your eye.
  • You never once told me my beliefs were bullshit. Even when we sat together watching the presidential election with very different views on who should win, you never once raised your voice. Thank you for the validation and the thoughtful questions.
  • You wanted all of us to be happy and you listened.
  • Many friends passed through your door. You liked people and they loved you. I'm glad my daughter got to spend time with you.
  • It was a comfort to know you were right next door, waiting with a glass of wine. Or a bottle, as was sometimes the case.

You are already missed...