Run Because You Can

RUN

Run with the confidence

that comes from being loved.

Run away from the confusion

and the noise.

Run toward the peace that comes

from giving your best.

Run through the pain

and loneliness.

Run with the memories

of your heart.

Run beyond the boundaries

your mind tells you are there.

Run for those who can't;

for those who wish they could,

and for those who never will.

RUN BECAUSE YOU CAN.

-Denise Jackson

Photo credit: KaTrina Anderson

A fun day with the girls. Here we are
BEFORE the race, and BEFORE the color.

Love this woman. Thank you for peer-pressuring us all to run with you. Well, technically, I ran BEHIND you, but that's just so you know, "I've got your back."

Getting colored before the race.

Tucking a phone under my shirt didn't protect it from the colors,
but it was worth a shot. This old hiker isn't much of a runner,
but I managed to run more than half of the 5K. Go, me!

Why do I run?

Why would a non-runner run a 5K? I run for family members. I run for lifelong friends. I run for friends I've never met. And I run for myself, not that I am a cancer survivor, but because cancer has touched my life, and I want to try to make a difference.

I ran in memory of Grandma and Grandpa, and others in my life I have known and loved. I ran in support of my friends, who are fighting the good fight, and continue to live as survivors and heroes.

Corey, Leslie, Tania, Dillon, Elisabeth, Yuriko, Erin, Victoria... you inspire us all with your lives. Thank you for giving the world a reason to believe in heroes.

Just Say Thank You; Seriously

From the time I was a little girl, I received compliments for a variety of reasons: my dimples, my behavior, my sun-tanned skin, my school work, my outfit. Those well-intentioned words made me blush. I was uncomfortable with the information, and did not know what to do with it. 

Over the years, I've realized the way I received compliments said so much about where I was on the sliding scale of self-worth, and without realizing it, I was also sending an unintentional message to the compliment-giver. 

If you told me you liked my dress, I would say, "This old thing? I bought it at the thrift shop for two dollars." 

If you told me my whole wheat rolls were the fluffiest you've ever eaten, I'd say, "You should try my mom's rolls. She's the REAL baker." 

If you told me what a great teacher I was, I'd say, "I'm no different than any other teacher at our school."

Shooting down someone's kind words is downright rude; I see that now. Devaluing a person's opinion is not in good taste. Deflecting praise takes the wind out of our friends' sails.

Lately, I have learned there are only two words I need to say when someone gives me a compliment. They are simply,

THANK YOU.

It may take loads of practice, but by flashing a smile of gratitude, and simply saying, "Thank you," we can accept the verbal gift that has been given. We are recognizing and appreciating the opinion of the speaker, and respecting who they are.

Try it next time. Just look the person in the eye, smile, and say "THANK YOU" the next time someone tells you something nice. Don't feel obligated to validate or qualify what you have been told with any further explanation. "Thank you" is all that needs to be said. 

The exchange of a compliment and a sincere thanks between friends will make both of you feel better. I dare you to try it. 

You can thank ME later.

The Devil's in the Details (Improving Our Health)

At the end of the day, after I've recorded my exercise and plan my last meal, sometimes I play with My Fitness Pal app. If I feel like having a treat, I'll enter it into my food diary, and then click "complete this entry." It will show me my projected weight in five weeks. It helps me determine if my choice is in my best interest, and I can decide if the indulgence is worth it.

In April, I wrote about How I Lost 100 Pounds last year. My weight yo-yoed so much with my emotions and inconsistency. I joked recently about my FOUR DAY STREAK on My Fitness Pal, looking forward to when the number of days I'd recorded my progress hit a significant number. I am finally on my way. Today my banner proclaims I'm on a 26 day streak, and I am finally seeing results. Yay, me!

Depending on how much I've exercised and eaten already, the difference an extra hundred calories makes is a big deal. In five weeks' time, my decisions today determine how much weight I will lose, and how fast I will lose it. Do I want to achieve my goals sooner, or later? Do I want to postpone my goals to satisfy my cravings, or can I entertain myself in some other way?

It's easy to think, "Oh, this little bit won't matter," but is that really true? If it takes a deficit of 3500 calories to lose a pound, that's 500 calories a day. We can expend 500 calories in exercise, or eat 500 calories less than our current metabolic needs. (Or obviously, a combination of exercise and reduced calorie intake to equal the 500 calorie deficit.) It's all about the math, so for we who like to play within the boundaries, any combination that creates the deficit will work. 

On the other hand, to gain a pound a week, which, for most of us, is not exactly the goal, all we have to do is eat an extra 500 calories, or neglect to get our workout completed. If we skip the gym AND overindulge, we are setting ourselves up for disappointment.

Persistent consistency is key. So many of us berate ourselves when we give in to temptation, using an all or none mentality. It's tough when you go "off plan" early in the day to think that the healthiest thing we can do is to make a better choice at our next opportunity. Don't throw in the towel, chalking up the day as a failure, and returning to bad habits just because of one poor decision. Every choice we make determines where we will be next week. It's the little things done on a consistent basis that will make the difference. 

I'm happy to report that since January of this year, I finally hit my lowest weight today. I'm twelve pounds down from my heaviest this year. My biggest accomplishment was being able to surpass my goal of a 15 minute mile. 

For me, consistency has been key. The difference has been in recording daily my eating and exercise. Accountability keeps me on track. Having a workout partner, and friends who are cheering me on, inspires me to try harder. Joining the gym was a turning point for me. Once I made that financial commitment, I put more effort into my meal planning. I have a small group of friends on my My Fitness Pal's website, and in the Facebook group, Intentional Healthy Living, who are setting such great examples, and providing me with the encouragement I need. Thank you all.

Keep plugging away. Results will come. Don't give up. "The devil is in the details." Be persistent and consistent; in a good way!

Yoga Pants

A childhood friend has started calling me "Yoga Pants." I didn't understand her reference, until yesterday when she told me about Tim Hawkins' funny song on YouTube. This guy makes me laugh. Just imagining his wearing his wife's yoga pants entertains me.

I love my yoga pants. The long ones are good for cold, winter days, and the capris are perfect for warm, summer days. I wear them for everything: Zumba, walking, hiking, movie watching, house cleaning, and, this morning, YOGA! 

The fabric is soft, and hugs my body without the encumbrance of zippers or pockets. They're forgiving after Thanksgiving Dinner, and will stay up on my hips if I'm losing weight, allowing me to postpone clothes shopping a little longer. I'm glad to say that is finally becoming an issue. A little Lycra goes a long way to keep this girl happy.

When I glanced at the clock this morning, it was 5:35. My writing wasn't going well, and I was looking for any excuse to not write. The yoga class at my gym would be starting in 10 minutes. It takes me 10 minutes to drive to town. Of course, I was already in my yoga pants, so I hustled, brushing my teeth, slipping my feet into my sandals, and grabbing my jacket. 

They had already started when I got there, of course, and this time, in the comfort of the darkness, I placed my yoga mat near the front so I could actually hear the instructor's directions. At one point, we were told to widen our stance, and place our heads on our blocks. One problem. I hadn't bothered to get a block. So I attempted to place my head on the floor. Yeah, that wasn't going to happen without my also doing a poorly executed somersault. Out of nowhere, a block slid toward me from behind me. A friend had taken pity on me in the semi-darkness of the room.

Breathing is so critical, and yoga always reminds me how much I hold my breath. Being aware of our breath is something that is conducive to living in the moment. When we are in tune with our bodies, it is easier to focus on the now, without letting our minds wander to worry or fret over details.

I'm so glad I went. My body is already thanking me for stretching, and trying something new at the gym. Now that I finally tackled my writing, I'll reward myself with a morning walk, before the heat becomes unbearable.

Excuse the Mess

My little house was overtaken by suitcases, hydration packs, flipflops, hiking shoes, quilts, dog toys, and a Great Dane named Hans last weekend. All of my kids came home, at the same time. The house was a mess, and dishes didn't always get done right away, and beds were rumpled, and blankets left wherever Hans decided to drop them after tossing them around. Believe it or not, I was able to immerse myself in the moment, and just enjoy the chaos that family life leaves behind in its wake.

Each morning, I would survey the shoes lined up on either side of the door, appreciative of the thoughtfulness that represented. 

I fought the urge to tidy up, to put away, to restore order, and I simply enjoyed the moment we were all together. The important thing was time together, not organization, this weekend. Finally, I'm learning to relax when that is the thing to do.

The weekend took me back to an earlier time, when my children were little, and the house was in a constant state of disarray. Back then, it was hard, but I tolerated a messier house than that with which I was comfortable. 

"EXCUSE THE MESS; 

WE'RE MAKING MEMORIES"

As I peeked into my kitchen, there was evidence of yummy meals, backpacking paraphernalia, and lot and lots of water jugs. I have strong, healthy kids who lead active lives, and try hard to take care of themselves. 

Before they left, everyone made beds, the floors were vacuumed, and belongings were hauled away to waiting vehicles. Order was restored, and my home was mine once again.

And do you know what? I will take my house full of kids and laughter and chaos any day over having everything neat and tidy. I miss them all, and look forward to their next visit already.

Sleep...Sleep...Sleep...

After slipping between the sheets, and making a few changes in position to find what feels the comfiest, my breathing begins to slow, and as my thoughts become more random, I know that sleep will overcome me soon. Falling asleep is easy for me most nights. Staying asleep, though, is another story. 

I am one of those people who gets excited about her morning coffee even before I crawl into bed. "In just a few hours, I can get up, and start my day!" I tell myself. Yes, sleep is viewed as a necessary inconvenience in my life, not some treasured escape from a long day.

Throughout the night, I check my phone for the time, to see if it's time to get up. It seems that any time after 3:00 A.M., and my brains starts buzzing with the possibilities of the day. Six hours of sleep, and I'm good to go. Seven would be delightful. 

Early morning is the very best time of day. My thoughts have more clarity after a night's rest. I have the house to myself. My time is my own, and I spend it sipping coffee, reading, and writing. It is when I check into social media, to see how friends and family are doing. 

The songbirds are finally awake. It's just after five right now, and they are chirping happily outside my window. The only light in the living room is the blue glow of my computer, and the amber of the streetlight, and the sky is beginning to shift from black to grey. 

Good morning, world. Now that I have written, it's time to celebrate with my second cup of coffee. Mmm...morning. The best part of my day.

The Element of Surprise

The empty nest is something I have dreaded ever since Bridger was nearing the end of his days in elementary school. My role as a mother had defined me for so long, I worried about my future as a mother of adult children. Who would need me then? Who would want to do things with me after they were involved in committed relationships? How would our dynamic change at a distance?

As the older two moved out into the world, after a period of adjustment, I realized that the bond of mother and child does not rely on proximity. Thank goodness. They both moved far enough away that even weekly visits are not feasible. There would be no "popping by" for a chat; no impromptu meals together. With a little planning, we have been able to keep our relationship strong.

Unbeknownst to me, Sierra had been planning this past weekend for two months. Her wish was to surprise me two days before I was "going hiking in Saint George." She asked Dylan to set up the ruse of inviting me to his house long in advance for a weekend of hiking, so that she could count on my being available. Yes, I thought it odd that he chose the last weekend in May for my visit, as we usually do a Mother and Sons' Weekend around Mother's Day, but I didn't question it. When I later asked if he were sure he didn't want to come up for Memorial Day, he was adamant; no, the LAST weekend of May was the only time we could get together. 

Her surprise was foiled when her dad, trying to be helpful, asked if I would be home the last weekend of May. He was trying to aid in Sierra's cause by making sure I wouldn't miss her, unaware that the kids were making sure I had plans with Dylan. No, I explained, I would be in Saint George, hiking with the married kids. When he pressed, and told me I HAD to be in town that weekend, I became more than a little annoyed. No one tells me what I HAVE to do these days. He finally divulged the best-kept secret of all: Sierra was going to be here that weekend. He looked sheepish. He had let the proverbial cat out of the bag.

After that conversation with her dad, I was hoping to force her hand in telling me herself by texting, "Drat. Our plans for this weekend fell through. At least, next weekend I'll be in Saint George, hiking with Dylan and Jamie."

"Dad already told me he told you," she replied. She was crestfallen.

I told her not to give it another thought. I LIKE knowing things in advance! I'm the one who opened all of her presents before Christmas, and re-wrapped them. I loved that the ultrasound revealed the gender of my last baby, so I could make plans. It's a surprise right up until the moment you know, right? I was just thrilled she was coming.

The weekend couldn't have been more perfect. This year's Mother and Son's Hike included Jamie, Sierra and Jason, too. It was a BONAFIDE Mother's Day Hike. It is such a rare treat to have them all home at the same time. 

My Pride and Joy...these five people.

The element of surprise is overrated, in my opinion. If a surprise happens one day, instead of two days later, does that lessen the surprise? No, I say, it does not. A surprise is a surprise. And it was the best surprise of all.

Third Left Hand in Late Spring (Monroe, Utah)

Monrovian Park has been a family favorite for years. My children have played in the stream, been to cookouts, and had pictures taken here many times over the years. 

When Sierra's boyfriend mentioned he would like to hike while visiting Utah for the first time, I decided if we headed east up Monroe Mountain, we wouldn't have to drive very far at all to escape the heat of the valley, and enjoy a beautiful canyon. It was 79 degrees when we drove through Monroe, and the temperature was a refreshing ten degrees cooler up the canyon.

To reach Monrovian Park, head south on Main Street in Monroe, Utah until the blacktop road curves left on Forest Road 78, heading up a long hill. The narrow road winds through the Fishlake National Forest less than 3 miles. You will pass "First Left Hand" before the creek crosses the road. A little further on, turn left just before the bridge that crosses Monroe Creek.  (Latitude: 38.594698   Longitude:-112.076671)

"On a scale of 1-10, how much of a flipflop trail is this going to be?" asked my 24-year-old daughter before we left. 

"If 10 is 'flipflop' perfect, I'd say about a four," I told her. She wisely chose her training shoes over flipflops, deciding if we had to get wet, she'd just slip her shoes off to cross the creek. Dylan later chided my flipflop rating. I'd forgotten how the rockslides have moved toward the creek. This hike can easily be done in lightweight hiking shoes or runners, but it is definitely not a flipflop trail.

We brought my tripod for family pictures, and spent a short time with the camera before we set off on our hike. The last time I'd been hiking here was my first time up Third Left Hand. Things were a little different this trip.

Monroe is a sleepy, little town, full of well-maintained homes, with nice yards. The rural town is reminiscent of Mayberry, with friendly neighbors. One thing you don't see is graffiti. Until you hike around Monrovian.

"I see the crime rate's increasing," Dylan remarked as we hiked past the shed. We took a few more pictures and headed on our way.

Picture taken February 2014

After parking our vehicles by the restrooms in the upper parking lot, we set off on the right side of the stream, passing the bridge, which we later learned would have been a good idea to take. Second Lefthand helps you avoid a water crossing, but we're all about adventure, so we were okay with starting the hike with a river crossing. 

Some of us plowed through the flowing water with shoes, some preferred removing shoes to enjoy dry feet for the rest of the hike. The water was cold, as you can see from Sierra's face. 

Dylan made his own cairn from the rocks sitting on the ledge. Many before us have done the same. After crossing Monroe Creek via a big log, we discovered the modern day petroglyphs that adorn the Graffiti Wall my friend Noelle had told me about when we hiked Third Left Hand in February. We enjoyed the shady spot, and spent a little time posing for pictures, and investigating the area.

The primitive lean-to comes complete with camp chairs.

When Dylan discovered this lid hanging on a tree, he said, "Ooh. Satan. This place is evil. We better get out of here." He's always providing witty repartée for our enjoyment.

Before we returned to the more obvious trail, we pushed through tree branches, and low-growing vegetation. "We'll be bushwhacking our own way out of here," I announced. There were snickers from the kids.

"I don't think bushwhacking means what you think it means," Dylan smiled. My kids love it when I use old-fashioned words with double entendres, knowing that I am unfamiliar with their new usages, explained later to me in the Urban Dictionary. You'll have to look that one up yourself, if you're curious.

"I don't think I mean what you think I mean. Let me rephrase; 'We will have to BLAZE OUR OWN TRAIL."

We had to cross the river once more, using a log with a primitive handrail someone lashed together utilizing a tall, skinny tree. Sierra re-enacted one of her favorite scenes from Dirty Dancing for us before we proceeded up the rock slide.

After we'd hiked a little over a mile and a half, there was a scream from the front of our line, and Dylan and Jamie rushed toward us from around the bend. "RATTLESNAKE!" I heard Dylan yell.

Everyone ran down the hill, and when we regrouped, we talked about whether we wanted to press on, or if we'd gone far enough.

"Was he sunning himself on a rock?" I wanted to know.

"He was sunning himself in Jamie's next footstep," Dylan answered. 

The snake had helped us decide; we were ready to call it a day. We headed back down the mountain, avoiding the first stream crossing by finishing our hike on the Second Left Hand Trail. We took a few more pictures at the bridge, and headed for home.

According to Runkeeper, we climbed 1906 feet in elevation, hiked 3.52 miles in an hour and 23 minutes. We could have increased our pace, but this trip was about enjoying the scenery, and spending time together. This is a good family trail, and suitable for children. Just don't wear flipflops!

For a good time, call...

Happy Anniversary to these two! Two years today.

Bridger likes to get creative with my camera, too.

Dylan's TRAIL BLAZING injury.

My BUSHWHACKING injury.

A new twist on posing for pics at the bridge.