Pressing reset

I’ve become something of a computer techie. Only in a minor way, but if you are a professional photographer in today’s market, you better know something about computers. Most of my knowledge has been learned in the school of hard knocks, but I have traveled far and wide to increase my abilities and try to become more literate in a world that was foreign to me a very short time ago. One of the first lessons I learned was get the best equipment. So it was that I went out of the PC world and landed in Apple land. I immediately had fewer problems. But, as polished as my Apple was, it still had issues occasionally. So, I had to learn to troubleshoot. The first thing I learned was that when you have an issue, it sometimes resolves when you reset. Turn off, unplug, let it rest, then reboot. Problem solved.

I try to always apply lessons learned in life to my running, and vice versa. When I found myself out of steam recently, looking frantically for my mojo, I knew just what to do. Press reset. So, that’s what I did.

I’ve spent the last couple of months just running for pleasure. I turned off the competitive vibe, and let myself reset. I had some trips planned, had fantastic runs on them, ate way too much Italian food, drank quite a lot of wine, smelled a lot of roses, and now I’m ready to run. If running has taught me nothing else, it’s taught me how to press the reset button on my mojo. I’m ready.

I’ve always been a runner who was more inclined to stop and smell the roses rather than to run for them, but I’m ready to test myself now. That doesn’t mean that I won’t continue to stop and smell the roses occasionally. It just means that I’m ready to be more intentional about my training. I’m ready to be leaner and faster. I’m ready to push.

So, along those lines, I’m following a couple of different training plans. I’m easing into more mileage by adding a fourth running day to my week. Right now, that’s just an easy day, with two to three miles. But, I’m also adding an interval workout once a week. I had my first one this past week and, may I just say, “OW.” I think that describes the workout perfectly.

I will continue to run long, but I don’t have another race scheduled until after Thanksgiving, and for that, I’m thankful right now. I’m sure I’ll pick up some short races between now and then, but I’m not going to plan those too far in advance. Right now, I’m concentrating on increasing my speed, decreasing my girth, and, yes, smelling the wonderful smells that spring in South Mississippi brings. So, there may be a few stops to smell the honeysuckle. And, of course, as a professional photographer, it’s almost impossible not to stop and take an occasional pic to commemorate the rites of spring. It’s so wonderfully green.

But, I’m ready now. I’ve pressed reset, I’ve rested a few, and now it’s time to pick up the mantle and run.

The gift of freedom

I love Mother’s Day.  I’m not a huge fan of holidays that have been engineered by greeting card companies, but this one is nice.  A day to celebrate our wonderful legacies, to let our moms know how much we love and appreciate them, to reflect on all that they’ve brought to our lives, and, yes, I’ll admit it, a day that’s all about me.  I jest, of course.  Mother’s Day took on new poignancy after my mom was called home in 2009, and the Mother’s Days since then lost some of their sheen.  But, this year has felt different.  Now that my Dad has been called home with her, the thoughts of her on this day simply make me smile.

My week has been filled with blessings, starting with the new stereo system for my convertible Mustang that my man had installed for me (all the speakers work!).  The highlight was a surprise visit from our oldest, who lives in Houston and drove in without telling her Dad or me that she was coming.  She coordinated with our youngest, who came over to our house on Friday night in an effort to keep us awake until her sister got here.  All of that was under wraps of course, and if you know our youngest, you know what a feat that was.  Even at 24, she’s hard pressed to keep a secret, but she managed this one with flying colors.  Our beautiful daughter waltzed in about 9 and my Mother’s Day was complete.

We did something different by way of celebration this year, we cooked and had my in-laws over on Saturday.  This had been decided earlier in the week, when Gary & I had no knowledge that Misty was coming in, or that she would only be here on Saturday.  Got to love how God works things out.  That one had me shaking my head with wonder, and asking Gary repeatedly if he knew that Misty was coming in.  A wonderful meal, great conversation, and lots of laughs, then our Saturday evening worship service filled my day to overflowing.  I can’t remember a nicer Mother’s Day, and I’ve had a lot of really, really good ones.

So, that brought us to today, the actual “holiday”.  I got another gift this morning, the gift of a free day.  Now, you moms, wives, and daughters know how rare those are, so don’t be envious.  We slept in a little, then I got up, made coffee, and leisurely read my Bible.  Even the weather cooperated with my weekend, sunny and cool, allowing me to get a late start on my run. Those late starts will soon be a thing of the past, but I’m welcoming the warmer temps with open arms.  So very ready to sweat!  After my devotion, I checked Facebook updates, and they made me smile.  So many pictures of moms, some who, like my mom, have gone to their heavenly reward, others who are still with their families, tending their flocks even into old age.  I will admit to suspiciously bright eyes as I read post after post, and saw beautiful images of mothers, daughters, sons, and grandchildren.  But, happy tears only on this beautiful spring morning.

After two cups of coffee and a helping of yogurt, it was time to run. I absolutely love having church on Saturday evening and running long on Sunday morning.  The rails to trails that I run is almost deserted on Sunday mornings, and on perfect weather days like today, I get to have church again on my run.  I started out on my usual route on the Trace, but when I came to the part that opens up to the trails that have been laid out across and around the track, I made the decision to hit the trails.  I love trail running, but don’t typically do it when I’m alone.  I’ve never run the trails at the Trace, so I decided to have an adventure.  I had nothing pressing to get back to, having had family lunch yesterday, so I decided to just run until I was tired, then head back.  What started as a four miler became a six miler that was filled with wonder, worship, and prayer.  Those are the runs I live for.  They’re rare, but they give such a sweet gift that it lingers on the soul for months to come, a memory filled with promise, hope, and peace. Got a couple of pictures, got back on the Trace and ran the last mile and a half as hard as I could.

Loved the name of this loop! So beautiful this morning with the sun coming in and green as far as the eye could see.

Thought I would save this loop for another day. :/

Couldn’t leave without a word and picture about my sweet mom. Miss her so much, but very much at peace with her loss. After she died and my dad was still alive, I would dream of her often and always wake up with a feeling of unease. After dad passed away in January, I began to dream of them both, always together. I can’t remember the dreams when I wake up, but I’m always smiling and have a sense of peace. So thankful they’re together again.

One of the last images I took of Mom, on the beach trip that my sister and I took them on.

Whether or not you’re a mom, have a spectacular day today. Live, laugh, and love. Spend some time outdoors and embrace the ones you love.

Run and Pray

This won’t be a post about Boston.  I’ve read, listened to, and breathed in so many words of wisdom and seen so much imagery that I’m filled to overflowing with them.  I’ve shed gallons of tears, prayed fervently, thought about the victims and their families, and imagined “what if” until I’m exhausted from it.  That precious eight year old’s face haunts my dreams, and thoughts of how his father and family are dealing with all this is almost more than I can bear.  The faces of the injured and their stories are inspiring, and they are each in my prayers when I run.  I wasn’t there, nor will I probably ever qualify to run Boston.  But, still, I feel like someone came into my home and attacked my family.

Again, this isn’t a post about Boston.  The aftermath left me mute and unable to write for many days.  I was still in New York City when it happened, had gone for a run in Central Park that morning and day dreamed of a future in which I might be fast enough to even dream about qualifying.  The days following the bombing were filled with travel and work for me, and I remained mute.  What I was able to do was run and pray.  So, run and pray I did.

I’m still running, and I’m still praying.  I’m carrying some residual sadness in my soul, not just from that incident, but from other, more personal things, as well.  I’m saddened by a world that tries to strip away the joy of life’s most joyous events, I’m saddened for those victims and their families, I’m even saddened for the suspects and their angry, thrown away lives.  I’m saddened by a world that disregards human life. I’m saddened by  a world that doesn’t realize that our problems stem from turning our backs on God, and turning our faces toward evil.   So, I pray.  And, I run.

I run toward joy and healing, not just for myself, but for a hurting world.  A fellow blogger posted in her commentary that rather than just running a “tribute” run, do something.  Give blood at your local blood bank, volunteer your time at a soup kitchen, be a visible presence in the life of someone who desperately needs a hero to look up to, walk into your neighborhood nursing home and ask which patients don’t get many visitors, then visit them.    You don’t have to be a hero to help. You just have to do it.   Let this incident be the impetus that gets you moving, and gets you helping.  There’s always a need for smiling faces and helping hands somewhere.  Find your place.

I run toward hope and our future.  I know that the running world will go on.  That’s what we do, we move forward, we endure.  I also know that America will endure, and I pray that we will turn our faces back to God and reach out to each other with love and acceptance.

This is a post about hope.  About faith and love, and how those are the greatest of things.  The only things that can heal this hurting world.

⁶ Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. ⁷ It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.  1 Corinthians 13:7-7

 

Run-about

Some days it’s just good to be alive.  I’m in New York City for a few days, on a business/fun/girl trip with my sister, her business partner, and some friends.  They all had a make-up convention today (my sister owns a fabulous skin care franchise called Fluer de Vis), so I had the day for myself.

I’m not sure what it is about this city that makes a crowd hating, redneck country girl who loves wide open spaces and the ocean love it so, but I do.  I love to visit here, run in Central Park, wander about the city, take photos, people watch, visit museums, see great shows, and eat at all the best restaurants.  I usually visit at least once a year, but this is the first time I’ve been back since running the NYC marathon in 2011.  I’ve eagerly anticipated this trip for months.

I decided to try a new running route this time.  I love running in Central Park, but I always do that.  I’m the lone runner in the group, so I did some research and discovered the West Side Bicycle/Running path that traverses the west side of the island along the Hudson River.   I talked to several people, including the hotel concierge, and decided it was safe to  try it solo.

I got up this morning, got all my gear on, made sure I had my road ID, as well as cash, credit card, and phone, and I headed out. I don’t think there are words or pictures that do justice to the beauty of today’s run, so I’ll just offer you these images and hope you’ll come do this run one beautiful spring day yourself.

I started at 46th St, at the USS Intrepid.

Hudson River

9/11 Memorial

Lady Liberty from across the bay in Battery Park

Happy runner at 9/11 Memorial

Beautiful green space at Battery Park

Empire State Building

Twelve miles, one venti coffee, one hot dog, one pretzel, and about ten gallons of water later, I’m tired, but happy. Now, to find tickets for a show tonight! Central Park run tomorrow!

Divine Intervention

Our traditional pre-race photo.

Kait, Me, my beautiful friend Amanda, and her running buddy, Brad. So proud of my girls!! Amanda killed her first half mary!

There are so many things I love about running.  One of my favorite things is that your only real competitor is yourself.  Even in a race scenario, you’re a winner for training and finishing.  Your main goal is to beat your best time at that distance (a PR).  I knew going into this half mary that I wasn’t ready for it.  I’ve really laid low the last month, trying to get my mojo back, working on reconnecting with my love to run, just taking it easy.  So, instead of a taper week, I’ve had a taper month, with only 5 or 6 runs since my last race.  And, no real long runs for all that time.  But, that was okay.  I made the decision (at the strong suggestion of my coach – my man, that is) to just run this race like it was a training run.  He even encouraged me to run naked (NO GARMIN).  And, I agreed.

Race morning dawned way too early and was a little cooler at the start than I like, but promised to warm up quickly.  Kaitlyn ran the 5k, and smoked it.  I’m so proud of her, and especially proud that she realizes what a huge deal it is to shave four seconds off your time.   If she puts her mind to it, she can really excel at this.  She’s been looking for her mojo lately, too, though.  Hope she found it again today.

If you’re still smiling, you’re not running hard enough.

I started out on track. Left the Garmin at home, just wore my pacing timer. I really did feel naked, but as it turned out, I’m glad I didn’t have the Garmin. It was an awesome race – well planned (thank you, Heather Hood, and the rest of the H’burg Clinic team), plenty of volunteers for all those tricky turns, weather was amazing after the coolish start, excellent race course through and around my alma mater, the University of Southern Mississippi-recently hit hard and devastated by a tornado, lots of familiar faces, and I felt pretty good. I didn’t worry about pace, but there’s something about a race that makes you a little panicky when you start passing all those runners ahead of you going in the opposite direction. I let my nerves get the better of me about mile 6, pushing it harder than I should, not wanting to drop the ball too far from my wheel house.

Then, at about mile 7 1/2 something happened to me that never has before. I fell. Hard. On my right knee, the one that always gives me trouble anyway. Fortunately, I was rounding Reed Green Coliseum and there was no one around to witness the event (which would have made if infinitely worse), but there it was. A potential race ender. I picked myself up and saw blood gushing from said knee, then limped on around the coliseum. Race volunteers ran quickly to my aid, helping me wipe the blood up, offering to call someone, and expressing heartfelt and genuine concern. I’ll admit, the thought of a DNF did cross my mind appealingly. But, then, I thought about my man with his broken leg, consistently working out and pushing through pain. I thought of how I would feel at the end of the day to have a DNF over a fall. I thought of how I would feel riding back to the finish line, instead of running across it. And, I looked at the sweet race volunteer and said, “I’m good. I’ll walk it out.” And, walk it out I did. After about a half mile or so, I tested an easy jog. Then, I picked up the pace, and finished the race. Because, isn’t that what runners do? And, I realized, this was Divine Intervention to keep me from stressing about my pace (or lack thereof). I couldn’t push hard on a blood dripping knee.

Still bleeding at the finish line. But, I finished.

The last five miles had lots of hills, and I took an easy pace that favored my dripping and wobbly knee. When I was about two miles from the finish, a car went by with passengers who yelled, “Go Mrs. Jayne!” I couldn’t see who they were, but I think it may have been my “Run for God” buddies. I turned around and waved, what a boost that was!! Thanks, guys!

As I neared the end, I realized I had no idea how much time had passed. Considering the two potty stops and the time I spent cleaning my bobo, then limping along, I figured I was pushing the three hour mark. A long way from a PR, but like I said, I was trying not to worry about that. I was very pleasantly surprised when I got to the finish line and the clock read 2:40. Maybe I need to run naked more often.

Finish line photo. Love my man, he’s always right there.

I read this earlier this week. Little did I know how much I would need that.

I think if there’s one lesson I want to take from this race, it’s this. Don’t wait until you can do something perfectly to do it. If I waited until I could be the first across the finish line, I would never cross one. Reach out, grab the world, and run with it. Even if you fall, you’re still ahead of the people who never even give it a shot.

Emptying my cup

“I’m not responsible for filling your cup. I’m just responsible for emptying mine.” Andy Stanley

My mojo is returning. But, like a starving wild animal easing stealthily toward its food source, it is shy and fragile, easily scared away. So, I’m tiptoeing around it, running easily, planning runs that soothe my soul and tease my mojo into raising its head and joining me in earnest. I have a half marathon on Saturday that I’m running, but I’ve decided to run it naked, in deference to my mojo. Don’t be scared, though, or avoid Hattiesburg in the fear that you’ll see something you shouldn’t, that just means I’m going without electronics. I’m not going to be a slave to my pace, but try to savor each moment and remember why I started running in the first place. Time enough for goal setting and pushing hard after the race.

I woke early this Easter morning. I actually set my alarm for 6:30 (which won’t be early enough when the heat comes), so that I could enjoy the dawn, remember, and give thanks for that Easter morning so many centuries ago. I was awake before it went off and lay in bed listening to the birds singing their morning song and being humbly thankful for my salvation. I got up and read the Resurrection story in each of the gospels and savored each word as though it was the first time I read it. Then, coffee and a quick breakfast saw me out the door for my run.

As I ran, I listened to Northpoint Community Church’s podcast, as I so often do, and in one of them, Andy Stanley made the above captioned quote. As I thought about it, it made me reflect on how well I am emptying my cup. I’ve been so concerned that I was filling other’s cups, that I’ve often neglected to pour mine on the world. I’ve only recently learned some of what is in my cup, now it’s time to concentrate on pouring it out.

It actually comes as something of a relief that I don’t have to worry whether I’ve filled your cup, my responsibility is done after emptying mine. In other words, what you do with what I (or anyone else) give you is entirely up to you. I’ve spent way too much time worrying about other people’s actions or reactions, and not nearly enough time giving of myself. It’s time to change that. It’s time to empty my cup. Give of my gifts and not worry about the return, or the lack thereof.

The return of spring with its warm, soft breezes, smell of honeysuckle and gardenia, blooming and renewal of the earth, promise of rebirth and new hope all work together to coax my mojo out of hiding. With its return, I plan to honor my responsibilities and pour out my cup. To discover my gifts and be generous with them so that, at the end of my days, the measure of my life will be evident by what I’ve left behind.

“The true value of a life is measured by how much of it is given away.” Andy Stanley

Happy Easter, my friends.

Under every rock

My mojo is gone. It’s springtime, the weather is fine, and I don’t have my mojo. I’ve looked under every rock, in every nook and cranny of my being, and it’s no where to be found. It’s a good thing I’ve lost it before, at least I know it will come back when the time is right.

In the meantime, though, what to do? I’m a morning runner. Daylight savings time hits my morning runs hard. It’s not daylight until 7 am, and I need to be in the shower by then. Getting out of my nice, warm bed when it’s still dark and cold seems like entirely too much effort. I can do dark, or I can do cold, no way can I do them both. Pollen has coated every visible surface, as well as the interior linings of my eyes and nose. The last few weeks, I’ve eaten as though I wouldn’t be alive much longer, with chocolate, bread, and key lime pie high on the hit parade. Unfortunately, for me, those high carb foods deliver a short burst of energy, then are followed by extreme lethargy. From which I can’t seem to escape.

I visited with a good friend today, a fellow runner, who boosted my spirits and reminded me that this is only a season. I’ve been a runner long enough to know that’s true, but it’s still scary when it happens. I have to constantly remind myself to get over myself. It’s time to just do it. To just lace up and slap the pavement. Seems impossible right now. I know I’ll have to dig deep for it, deeper than I’ve had to dig in a while. But, failure is not an option.

What causes these seasons? Is it working too hard or not working hard enough, eating too much or not eating enough, dreaming too big or not dreaming enough? Sometimes, it’s an event, like a bad race or training run, but more often, I think it just happens. It happens for every reason and it happens for no reason. For no reason that we can identify, suddenly our running routine is no more. When we run, it feels like we are carrying an extra person on our backs though quick sand. Formerly fast miles become excruciatingly slow, and anticipation for a run becomes stomach churning dread. We begin to doubt ourselves, question why we’re doing this, wondering if we really can. We try to remember what a good run felt like, but can’t dredge up the memory of one.

So, do we quit or take up a new sport? Not on your life. It’s times like these that separate the runners from the wannabes. I might be a wannabe when it comes to a lot of things, but I’m a runner deep in my soul. Giving up is not in my playbook. And, I haven’t conquered this sport yet, I can’t possibly take on a new one.

Hopefully, when I post again, it will be after a wonderfully refreshing run that reminds me of all that I love about running. That’s what I’m going to focus on as I lace up and head out in the morning. The quiet of the morning, the beauty of the day, the strength of my legs as they carry me, the wonderful friends I’ve made through running, the quality time I’m able to spend with God as I run. Those are the things that keep me coming back to the running well again and again. And, I know that if I just keep moving, I’ll find my mojo at that well, waiting for me to pick it up, put it on, and go for a run.

This one’s for you, Amanda B. You inspire me and make me like people again, and I thank you.