Cocoon

My sister Becky gave me this box when I was a little girl.
Inside of it was a caterpiller, a white cylinder-looking thing (cocoon) and a book that explained metamorphosis and lifecycle changes. It had a picture of a Monarch butterfly at the very back.
The cocoon intrigued me.
I looked at it with wonder every time I held it.
Would it break open if I touched it too much?
Does the light affect it?
Why are there these two things and a book with pictures of butterflies?
Metamorphosis.
Once I knew what it meant, it intrigued me even more.
How is it that something can exist, stop, change and appear to be reborn?
Stages, science tells us. Lifecycle stages.
When the caterpiller begins to change, it is taken over by a silk that becomes a cocoon. The way I understand it is that the cocoon's purpose is to protect the Monarch until she is ready to emerge and fly.
I've walked into silk lately. Lots of friends have worked together to weave that layer of protection for me. I've needed it, and I thank you.
Wouldn't it be nice if when we went through lifecycle stages of change that we could emerge as beautiful as the Monarch?
It's not about the beauty, it's about the journey. Again.
It's a good thing I am buying new running shoes. This journey seems to have no end.

QoD: Who weaves your cocoon? And are you ready to fly?

Photo credits: University of South Dakota Web site on phenomena.

P.S. Ten miles last Saturday. Both IT bands are sore. Nine this Saturday. Soon, we head to White Rock for a few dress rehearsals before the big day, Dec. 9.

Snowflakes

Andy's comment on my blog posting about loss has me thinking about snowflakes now.
He is so right, none are the same, they are all different.
It reminded me of the first time I saw a snowflake.
I was about nine years old. It never snowed much in San Antonio when I was growing up. They actually sent us home early from school so we could play in the snow -- before it melted.
I remember it was a Friday afternoon, likely in January or February. I remember telling my Mom that the yard looked like someone had spilled a bunch of raspas, or snowcone shavings, in the grass.
She laughed and said if I caught snowflakes in my hands, I'd notice that they are all different. Of course, I paid attention for a second, agreed, but never really noticed it. I just wanted to play before it became slush.
Years later, Mom crocheted snowflakes for our Christmas tree. She made four of them, for each kid. We each had one to hang, whichever one we grabbed first.
"Mom, they aren't the same," I told her.
With that mom look, she said, "Mija, they aren't supposed to be!"
It was Christmas 1991, seven months after Mom died, Daddy sat the four of us down at the house so we could divide up the Christmas decorations. This was Mom's favorite holiday.
Boxes and boxes of glass balls that my parents had collected through their 45 years of marriage.
Lights. Angels. Cheesy paper cutouts with glitter that each of us made through the years during school. The four snowflakes that my mother crocheted
years earlier.
I don't remember which of us said it, but it was noticed.
"None of these are the same." They are unique.
It's kind of like the four of us, I thought, as I sat next to my siblings, reminiscing with some tears about Mom and the decorations we sifted through.
You're right, Andy. There's no right answer for how to deal with loss. It's the memories that get us through, help us endure. Never forget.
So, it's really not about snowflakes, I guess. It's about people.
Thanks, Andy, for reminding me of the things my Mom would have said to me.
I am listening.


QoD: How many times have you thrown away cards or letters written to you by your parents?
(Well, stop it. I wished I would have saved one thing, anything, my mother wrote me.)

Find True North, runners!

There's a monastery of cloistered nuns on my running route, not far from my house. It's just southwest from where I live.
The Discalced Carmelite Nuns, Arlington Carmel, don't know me, and I don't know them. But, in a sense, they are my True North, the place that I run to and past everyday for strength. That's where I get my energy from.
They are followers of St. Therese of Lisieux.
I ran Saturday morning, past Mt. Carmel, in anticipation of MotownRunnerGirl and her peeps, who will be running the half at the Detroit Marathon today.
Hopefully the sisters' influence on me, from 1,000 miles away from my northern friends, will help them out this morning.
I only did five (not my full nine because I've worked the past three nights and I've been waking up too late and without enough time to do the complete run and still chill before work). But when the Michiganders are running their race this morning, I'll finish my 'Saturday' run while I do a sympathy -- or envious, rather -- four right here in my hood, and toward my True North.
I'm going to have to visit the monastery someday. Maybe the sisters sing vespers at Christmas? They should. For the real True North.

P.S.: Northerners, good luck. And MRG, don't forget to post your times. Or eat that juicy burger with a big, cold beer. :-D

QoD: At what point did you realize True North was calling you? And did you listen?

(Pictures from above from carmelnuns.com. St. Francis, at bottom, is mine.)

One year later

I’ve come full circle.
A year ago this month, I started running. Actually, I started walking. Then, it turned into running.
I ran in fog Tuesday morning. It was thick enough to slice. I wore black, so I felt I was among the clouds.
It was a bittersweet anniversary. Lots of loss right now, so I’m distracted. It makes it difficult to celebrate sometimes.
I had a meltdown Tuesday morning when I ran. Full-blown tears. I bet I looked pretty.
It’s the loss – personal and otherwise.
Coach Neil told me Saturday that I shouldn’t run the full White Rock Marathon in December because since I didn’t run for two weeks (vacation and board meeting), I’m behind in training.
He doesn’t think I can catch up without getting hurt.
I thought of that Tuesday morning when my shins started hurting about a mile into the run. My fault, I didn’t stretch or drink enough water last night. He’s probably right, I don’t want to listen, but I will.
Loss.
Maybe there’s a reason I have to do the WR half again.
Improve my time?
Keep tabs on my team?
Erase last year’s bad memory since it was the day Michael died?
I think a lot when I run. Tuesday was different. Way more intense.
Sometimes I don’t feel anything. It’s like floating. It’s just me and the music.
And too much time to think.

I get too flooded with things in my head.
I miss my best friend.
No WR full this year.
C lost the baby. She was more than half way along.
I miss Michael.
I miss my family.
What the hell am I doing with my life.
See? No rhyme or reason, it just rolled in, like the fog. Right into my head.
Sorry I’ve been away. I think now you probably know why.
I’m a little distracted.

New to the blog: I want to pose a question of the day. It could morph into a thought, but right now I’m into questioning.

QoD: How do you learn to live with loss?

Think about it, and answer, please.
And thanks for reading.

Mexico

Sept. 22-28, 2007
SAYULITA, Nayarit, Mexico -- Ah.
Hola, amigos! Que bonita esta la playa aqui en Mexico!
Sorry, folks. Thinking and dreaming in Spanish for six days is a beautiful thing.
Brenda, Deb, Sarah and I have been staying in a really awesome house high above a village about 40 minutes due somewhere from Puerto Vallarta.
We helped Sarah celebrate her 52nd birthday on Monday (Sept. 24). The week has been full of great times, food and drink.


The four of us have noticed that the people of Sayulita love dogs. There are lots of them and they like to comb the beaches with the people. There are very few cats, and they seem to only come out at night.
What is great about this place is that there are mostly locals here -- they might not all be native Mexicans. They hail from somewhere, but they are locals now, and enjoy the same things we have this week:
Beach.
Sun.
Tequila.
Margaritas.
Sand.
Beer.
Ceviche.
Pico de gallo.
Guacamole.
Salsa de tomatillos.
Fish tacos.
Carnitas.
Quesadillas.
Beer.
Tequila.
Margaritas.
Did I say Margaritas? They are HUGE and carry a punch that not even I can handle. I had to, um, lay off of the tequila on Tuesday after having a few of these on the beach. The waves were amazing, too.
It has rained every night since we got here last Saturday, but today (Friday), it has rained all day long.
We fly back to Texas tomorrow. We're hoping for one more afternoon of sun (it ain't happening today) and one more blast of the sun Saturday morning to solidify the tans for the rest of the year.
So, ojale que viene el sol, amigos!

salute to the king tonight

Just when you thought it was over, a two-hour special airs tonight on Elvis. It's been 30 years since his departure from here.
OK, I guess we could say death...
Seriously, could you imagine him doing the hip action at this age?
As the running docs say, motion is lotion.
If anyone could do it, he could.
Happy Tuesday.

Happy Monday

Dear Fans of Circle30,

So sorry that I have been AWOL. My sister, Becky has been after me for weeks to blog. As has Margarita, Amy, Andy and my niece, Marisa.

Life lately has been a little much. I kind of feel like I've needed a refill, kind of like this glass of water.


So apologies for not keeping in touch, especially for the relatives, who reminded me that absent my trips home, this is the only way they know what is going on in my life.

So what's everyone been up to?

I've been running. I went to Michigan and ran the Crim and saw the Boblo! Coach Neil proposed to Becky (not my sister) at Wednesday night run. She said YES!

Soon, I'll write about Crim weekend for the Michiganders. I'll try and do that before I head to Mexico next week.

Until then, hasta. And remember, I love you all.

liz

Whew!

I had a really good run today.
It was one of those runs where it's sunny outside, there's actually a breeze (in August), and, according to St. John's marquis, it was 76 degrees.
It just ... felt really good.
My morning running route is a busy one. There's three churches and one Catholic school. A doctor's office. A grocery store/shopping center. A 7-Eleven. Taco Bell. Subdivisions of brick houses. A park. A convent. Rush Creek winds through it.
Headed West down the road from my house, just beyond the Kroger shopping center, is a huge house on land that is about two and a half lots large. They have two horses.
One is larger than the other. The top of the smaller one's head reaches to about the jaw of the big one. I imagine it's mother and child. The horses' small field abuts the park.

This morning, as I listened to my iPod and enjoyed the run, I glanced toward the field with horses. They were standing thisclose to each other, one almost leaning into the other. They were watching the people in the park.
That was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. I was overcome, really.
I just love it when I have a good run like this. Such clarity, peace. No pain in the knees!
Well, it was only three miles, but I guess that really means that I only have seven more to go for the Crim in Michigan this weekend!
I have so much to do between now and Friday morning...

I found him!

Who woulda thunk it?
Elvis Presley is living in a gated community in Roanoke,Texas!
Actually, it's long been rumored that The King was in the Lone Star State, just hanging out, taking care of business, and keepin' it real.
Speaking of TCB, I haven't been doing that lately with this blog. It seems forever since I posted anything -- yes, it has been ages, really. That's probably why I am discombobulated about everything in general. No outlet, so I'm back. Maybe blogging will get me back in sync.
So hello!

Back to Elvis...
The 30th anniversary of his "death" was last week. Sources spotted several Elvis look-alikes and movie characters at a recent party in North Texas.
Think young and old Elvis.
The cape. The gold suit.
Think "Viva Las Vegas."
Think "Harem Scarem."
Don't forget some tackiness thrown in, too...
It was a good rememberance of The King, even though he really couldn't make it.
He was likely TCB somewhere else.

What else have I been up to? Went to a roller derby bout this past weekend. Very fun and interesting, but that's another post...
In other news, I'm going to Michigan on Friday, this is Crim weekend!
I hear it's cool there. It is really hard to imagine taking a long sleeve shirt anywhere right now. It's only been in the upper 90s this week.
I hope I'm ready for the Crim. I haven't run as much as I should be, work is really kicking my ass, and there's been a lot of stuff going on in the other layers of my life.
No doubt, though, I am certainly ready to see the Michiganders and some cool weather!
So for those of you who have stopped by and shared thoughts about your journey, sorry I've been away.
For those nice thoughts, I say, in the words of The King:
Thankya. Thankyaverymuch.

Getting ready

I missed much of the meeting the other night on being a Team in Training mentor. I was working. New job but really the usual stuff that happens when you work for a daily newspaper.
I arrived right after the pep rally and pizza, just in time to break out into groups and talk about who does what and when. Blah.
So I had to get back into the picture archives and see what I might have missed.
My only experiences other than what we have done with the DFW Metro Running Team were in San Diego and the pasta and victory parties.
These folks were crazy excited for the participants.

I seriously felt like I was at my high school pep rally the time our basketball team made it to state. Electric. Exciting. Energizing.
It will be fun to capture that for others who are just about to make their decision and sign on the dotted line to raise money for LLS.
Frankly, the best part about being able to go through all the motions is to watch the others and their reactions, their changes. I know I changed.

Crazy, I think I can do that. Make up, colored, foil hair? That, too.
Just the chance to watch, listen and learn. Run. That's what I'm looking forward to.

Dr. Doogie "fixed" my other IT band issue. He says "run, what are you waiting for?" Thank God. I am waaaaayyyy behind training for the Crim.

No running today, however, up early to read all and every bit of news. The (new) inmate (me) will be running the asylum. My editor is off.

The new season

This cult called Team in Training is wonderful.
I've been struggling lately, trying to get back into my running routine. OK. I'll say it. I've been afraid.
It hasn't been easy -- these IT band issues. They both hurt, the right more than the left, since San Diego. I don't want to freak up my knees, but I don't want to stop running, either.
I've run only slightly since the marathon, mainly because I have wanted to try and see if I could actually run again without pain so I could be a mentor for the winter season. But you can't really mentor runners very well if you can't run with them, can you?
So I've been trying to gather inspiration where I can.
I even got the bag out again, the one that TNT Captain Laura and the mentors put together for the team for this summer's events. They gave it to us in April, at our 15-miler, the first really long run we did at White Rock.

I pulled it out on Wednesday. I took it to work with me for inspiration. It also was the day the team leader at the LLS office blew up e-mails to remind folks that the deadline was near to apply to be a mentor.
I felt I needed something here at this point if I was going to get back to where I was, something that had become my cocoon, my comfort zone. Running. With the team. For a purpose.
I opened the bag again. Because I had it at work and didn't want to have to explain to each person who walked by, I just mainly looked inside. but really kept it shut so that others wouldn't start going through my stuff. Things like that happen in my new/old digs at my new job. But that's a different blog post...

The surprise of the day came on yahoo, when I got an e-mail from Laura. I hadn't been out to Wednesday Night Run in about a month. They missed me. She wanted me to apply to be a mentor.
So I did, and I got in. The new season kicks off while I'm running the Crim at the end of the month.
I still worry about the IT bands, so I've been diligent about seeing my new chiropractor, a sports medicine doctor who is really more like a Whisperer (doesn't look like Robert Redford, more like Doogie Howser).
He hasn't adjusted me once, he's done mostly physical therapy on me and my homework assignments are exercises that look a lot like pushups without lifting the body below the pelvis.
Yesterday, Dr. Doogie put his fingers between my IT band AND my knee and leg bones on the right and pulled the sucker out from behind the knee bone and away from the rest of the leg. (I don't think I need to describe the pain here). But it feels better and other than just being sore from that maneuver, it doesn't stab like it did. (We do this again on Tuesday. I can't wait).
He says I'll be fine.
So all you TNTers out there who have gone down this road before, what do you look for, want, in a mentor?
More inspiration please?

Full circle

My ride on the elevator this morning was surreal.
I had a deja vu.
I was 28 years old the first time I walked through the doors at the Fort Worth Star-Telegram. That's a little bit ago.
Spent most of the day trying to log in and get my e-mail operational.

I'll be glad when I can edit stories. It's been a week and a half since I edited anything.
The inside of the building still smells of ink and hot wax. I love it. I really miss the sounds and the vibrations of the printing facility, normally in the basement or ground level of a newspaper.
I was seeking a new journey, a new adventure.
I'm glad that this is the place. Again.

Home

I got a new job -- start "this week," on vacation... Sweet.
Visiting Daddy, stepmom, sisters, brother and their families.
It's hot and humid in the Alamo City, as always. It's a certain feel, I can't say I have felt the exact thing in Houston, Corpus Christi, Austin, or Dallas-Fort Worth.
Things are green, the sky is blue. I tried to find a skyline picture for this blog, but everyone is really proud of them -- must purchase this photo...I'll take my own later. Thank goodness Mapquest is Mapquest...
I came fully prepared to run. Violated the cardinal rule, though.
I ate hot sauce last night.
:-|

Last day

It's my last day of work today at The Dallas Morning News. I am sad, I will cry, but I'm happy.
I leave more than a workplace, a job. It leave some really awesome people. Great friends who are like family, who care about me and others and are just amazing to share space and air with.
Great journalists that inspire me to be better every day.
I hope they always orbit my earth.
I just travel west now, back over the Trinity River, to the competition, the Fort Worth Star-Telegram, where I spent 10 years of my professional life before I left them seven years ago.
Funny, when I left there back then, I cried, too, listening to friends who were also like family wish me good luck "on the dark side."
I have gone full circle, again.
But it's not goodbye. It's see y'all later, on the other side of the Trinity.

This is a really great song that kind of sums up what I feel today. Thanks 10,000 Maniacs.

THESE ARE DAYS

These are days you'll remember.
Never before and never since, I promise, will the whole world be warm as this.
And as you feel it, you'll know its true that you are blessed and lucky.
It's true that you are touched by something that will grow and bloom in you.

These are days you'll remember.
When May is rushing over you with desire to be part of the miracles you see in every hour.
You'll know its true that you are blessed and lucky.
It's true that you are touched by something that will grow and bloom in you.

These are days.

These are the days you might fill with laughter until you break.
These days you might feel a shaft of light make its way across your face.
And when you do you'll know how it was meant to be.
See the signs and know their meaning.
Its true, you'll know how it was meant to be.
Hear the signs and know they're speaking to you, to you.

Have your day, everyone.

Happy Birthday, Daddy!

He talks a mile a minute about life and the news.
He giggles about irreverent things. He has a great sense of humor and a really quick wit.
It's hard to believe that my father turns 88 years old today.
Sometimes he'll get on such a rant about politics, I get kind of scared. (I won't discuss those things with him on my cell phone anymore).
Luis is a character. He always has been. I remember him making my mom turn red with the things he'd day to her. He liked teasing. He still does.

One of my fondest memories is the ritual we had when I was little. I would hear when he arrived home from work. The car in the driveway. A door slam. The squeaky screen door opens.
I'd run from wherever I was in the house to greet him.
When I was little, he'd scoop me up in is arms and look me in the eyes, kiss my cheek. He always said these words: "De quien es la reina chula?" (roughly translated, something like who does the pretty little princess belong to).
"De Daddy," I'd say.
To this day, he still asks me that, whether it's in person, on the phone, in birthday or Christmas cards.
I could never have enough space to write or the time to discuss all the wonderful things, beliefs, principles, faith that is my father. He is indeed the greatest man I have ever known.
He also makes one heck of a whisky drink.
Happy Birthday, Daddy.

Free association Tuesday

Brandon saved my life Friday night...
I am leaving my newspaper on the East Side of the river to go back to the West Side of the river. Great thing is that I don't have to move, the commute becomes shorter, and I am returning to a place I spent 10 years of my professional journalism career before I crossed the river to my current paper seven years ago. (Don't do the math).
The going-away parties began last Friday. My boys took me out to the "gayborhood" in Dallas for drinks. Lots of vodka drinks. :-D
Interesting thing occurred -- a man walked up to me (don't think he was gay), stood next to me, got in my face and said: "You are an arrogant son of a bitch!"
I am glad I had so many vodka drinks, I would have probably tried to really figure out why he was talking to me, and one of my boys would have likely gotten into a fight trying to pull me off this psycho.
We really couldn't figure it out. Brandon immediately tried to get between us -- so cute protecting me. The man was no match for Brandon's wit. Even with vodka drinks Brandon can calmly debate like no other.
I really couldn't figure it out. It made me wonder, am I an arrogant son of a bitch?
Maybe he thought I was a drag queen.

Geez!!!

OK, before anyone starts the critique, this is my first video...
It is never going to stop raining.
The lakes and rivers are so swollen, they are cresting. The waters are just about to flow over spillways at several dams in the state.
Girl Scout camps are under water in Northeast Texas at Lake Texoma (at the border of Oklahoma and Texas).
It has rained for about three months, it's unbelievable.
The mosquitoes are horrible.
The fleas are horrible (poor Niki, I found a flea on her the other day. She hasn't had a flea since we found her in the park seven years ago).
The sun hasn't been out in like three months.
Some broadcaster asked on radio today, which is worse, drought and oppressive heat, or endless rain and awful mosquitoes?
As I sit here applying Afterbite for the mosquito bites I got at a fireworks display on the Fourth of July, I am thinking oppressive heat and drought isn't that bad.

P.S.: A special thanks to Andy Isaac, who walked me through uploading this video. Google is really the way to go.

Mud run (sorta)

OK, so maybe you really can't see the mud very well on my legs or shoes, but it's there.
It did not rain this morning, so I hit the road.
Today was the first day of unofficial-official training for upcoming runs -- Too Hot to Handle (Dallas, July 21) and The Crim (Flint, MI, Aug. 25).

3 miles
40 minutes
13.44 average pace (according to Nike+iPod)

P.S.: Note to people whose houses back up to sidewalks on streets known to have runners: TRIM YOUR FREAKING TREES.
Branch of live oak with a side of Bradford Pear leaves DOES NOT taste good.
I'm calling code enforcement.

It won't stop raining!

It's coming down too hard to run in.
Sixteen days this month so far -- 10 inches, one inch away from a record set in June 1928. We were in a drought. Not anymore.
If you wanna read about how wet it's been in Texas, visit www.dallasnews.com. There, you can also watch video of the rushing waters at White Rock Lake.
Actually, it's been so bad that it made national news.
While I watched HBO last night, the Emergency Alert System actually interrupted the program to warn about evacuations in a neighboring county. On a cable channel. That's never happened before.
The entire state has been hit pretty hard lately. Eleven people have drowned in the past week and a half. Right now, 22 North Texas counties are under a flood warning. Thousands have been evacuated from their homes.
It's supposed to rain for at least another week.
I've replaced the batteries in my weather radio, and I'm watching the creek down the street.
So while I sat in my kitchen, sipping a vodka drink and listening to the raindrops hit my roof, I thought if anyone would have a song about rain and floods, the man in black would.
He did.


P.S.: Don't drive in low-water crossings. It doesn't take that much rushing water to pick up a vehicle.

Ride with caution -- updated

Editor's Note: The previous post on "Ride with caution" was removed. Apologies for being crass. It was the big story of the day, however...

So, Amy and Al, here's a little story about the ride:

I love amusement park rides. I like rollercoasters -- the higher and faster, the better -- despite the fact that I have motion sickness.
The best thing I ever did was ride an F-16 for an hour for a story I wrote.
It was the 25th anniversary of the F-16 Fighting Falcon, which is built at Lockheed Martin in Fort Worth
I used to edit the business writer who covered the plant. At a planning meeting one day, he mentioned that we should do something on the anniversary. We were in a room full of other editors. It was then that I made the statement.
"I'd give anything to take a ride on one."
"Really," the reporter said. Absolutely, I said, without really thinking that he could make it happen.
A few days later, he was at my desk. "Guess what?"
He said they offered -- and he couldn't do it because of his back.
They were serious, he said, and brought our department editor in the mix.
Everyone agreed, so a few weeks later, I took the ride of a lifetime.
I spent the entire morning that day, getting checked -- a physical. Eye test, blood pressure, hearing, lung capacity.
I told the doctor three times that I get motion sick, and he gave me some pill and said it is better than anything out there.
After I was fitted for a pressurized flight suit, I sat in a room while the captain/pilot instructed me using little models on what to do inside the plane. Simple, really, since I'd be sitting behind him while he flew.

"Whatever you do, don't pull this lever. It's the ejection lever."
Thanks. I won't be able to keep my eyes off of it now.
He showed me on the map where we'd be going. "Ever been to West Texas? We can get there in just a few minutes."
Once I had my parachute fitted and attached to my body, we circled the plane to do checks. We climbed aboard and were off.
Plane shoots straight up in the air. Clouds coming toward us faster than anything I could have ever imagined. Suit tightens around my mid-section like someone is squeezing me.
"Feel that? That's about three Gs. We can do nine," he said, "But you'd probably pass out."
I couldn't speak because I was squeezed, and about to get sick.
They had told me not to get sick in the plane, it cost $25 million.
"If you feel sick, just take the oxygen mask off and do it in the suit."
Easy for you to say, I thought.
I threw up three times.
We did a loop, pulled nine Gs (three at a time), and I got to fly the plane a bit.
We also flew in formation with a few other jets.
It was a beautiful spring day in Texas, we saw a good part of the state on our ride.
When it was over, they poured a bucket of water over me when I got off the plane. This was needed because I'm sure I didn't smell very good. And I got a little model of the plane I flew in, with my name painted on the side, behind the captain's.
I was too busy to notice there was video shot of this experience, and lots of pictures, too.
All in an hour that I will never forget.

===


Photo from: www.salthillairshow.com/