There’s my left leg with my super special new running pants on. They are awesome. They show off the muscularity of my thighs (can’t see it in the photo though) without showing off the aging creepy part I am not so proud of. I cropped it to one leg because I realized after taking the photo that there is so much crap on my bedroom floor right now, to show it in a photo on the internet is just crazy! So I cropped, cropped, cropped.
A miracle happened in our family yesterday. My daughter’s dad called her and said it is time to put this ridiculous feud behind them. This morning my daughter got dressed up and went over to the home he shares with his wife and my daughter’s daughters, so that they could share breakfast. They haven’t spoken except on rare occasions since Easter 2006. He even had a restraining order at one point. She is going to be able to have unsupervised visitation of her daughters – finally. My two granddaughters had gotten the courage and taken the risk to confront him about this last week. They said they want their teachers to meet their Mom, they want to be able to see her all the time, they want her in their lives! God bless them. What a tumultuous life they have led, and yet they are brave, smart, mature girls.
I can’t seem to stop being tired. I was talking with my daughter this morning about the last 15 months on this job. She got so mad at one of the stories, she got tears in her eyes and said she wanted to beat up my boss, and my coworkers. I told her, “we can’t do that honey, we can’t live that way.” I cannot hate any of them. But I sure will be grateful to get away from them. I think it is taking weeks for it to really settle in – I am really leaving. This debacle is nearly over. And when I think about that, I want to take a nap. I am worn out.
I am also worn out from training for my next half-marathon. It is only a little bit more than a month away, so I am in the intense part of my training, and it hurts! Did I forget how much it hurts, or does it really hurt more this year? I complain, and yet, if I had more money, I would be registering for a fall full marathon. A bunch of my pals are going to Portland, and this is a race with an 8 hour cut-off – the longer the better in my book. I don’t like course marshals following me the last few miles…. wondering if I am going to make it. I am slow, but I am sure. I may look like a doddering old fool, but it beats the hell out of sitting on the sofa watching television. And when the rare snotty runner comes by being snotty, I feel like asking him (sorry, it’s usually a male), “what’s your mother / grandmother doing this morning?” or “come see me when YOU are 61, I want to see what races you are doing.” For the most part though, I must say that even the elite runners are so nice to us slow folk. I am always astounded by that.
Trying to get over the idea that a Sunday afternoon spent in bed is a wasted day. While I am here, I am going to write in my journal, send a few e-mails, read the wonderful “Song of Bernadette,” and maybe take a nap.
It’s a wonderful day.