Rekindled Passion

My alarm broke through the early morning, startling me. The house was quiet and my family slept as I would get up, get ready and sneak into the darkness. For over seven years this affair had been going on, and already my mind was making excuses to not continue this morning. In the beginning my heart woke me up well before my alarm, anxious and excited. Each new morning was an incredible experience, the anticipation of meeting, the pounding of my heart, the joy of something new. I felt powerful, beautiful and like the best version of myself. My heart would beat wildly, my body would become slick with sweat and my lungs would labor with each passing moment. I felt invincible. Sometimes I would push the envelope and the allure would draw me out in broad daylight to meet. Every moment was different and I felt whole. My soul would soar and my body would respond with joy and reckless abandon, not caring what other people thought. 

Now, over seven years later, things are different. It was bound to happen, as change happens in all relationships. People talked of the seven year itch and I wonder could that be what has marred this relationship. The sheen of newness has worn off and the years have aged me. Now my body waits for the alarm and rolls out of bed stumbling through the routine without joy. Could this affair that gave me purpose morning after morning have reached its end? Heat and passion have been replaced with excuses and the mechanical feeling of going through the motions. The love is still there, centered deep in my soul, but the flame of passion is gone. All relationships ebb and flow and I wonder if this is just a step, a moment to be worked through or if it is time to let it end? Do I focus on something else, stay tucked tightly in bed each morning, not daring to leave the house in all kinds of weather for those golden moments? We have struggled and we have fought, rebelling against time and fighting for what we had, but now it seems different. 

I have changed. I am older and wonder about how I look and how I feel. What I used to be able to do seamlessly no longer happens, injuries, detachment and fatigue weigh me down and the relationship suffers. So much has changed since we started this journey, over seven years ago. My boys are men on the brink of starting lives of their own. I am older with grey streaks running through my hair. My body creeks and cracks more than it did, and I wonder if I am even worthy. Why did I start this crazy relationship that occupies my thoughts, pushes me and calls to me day after day? Even as questions swirl through my sleepy mind, I begin to dress my tired body just right, choosing the perfect outfit. Hidden just beyond the curtain of  discipline and routine I can feel a familiar hum just below the surface. The desire surges to meet, to remember and to rekindle the passion. 

Stepping outside I breathe deeply. The sky is dark, no moon to be seen and the stars are faint and hidden mostly by the clouds. My lover waits calling softly to me. In response, music races through my veins, warming my body and I take off. Ten miles speaks softly to me, seducing me as my feet kiss the pavement. Familiarity, comfort and joy tickle my senses. Houses are quiet, the birds are still sleeping and nobody is around to see us stumble or to see our struggle. The night sky and the stars watch knowingly, having experienced over 2,500 days of our relationship. The moon has celebrated the highs and wept during the lows. Pre-dawn, when darkness reigns and the world sleeps, is the time for my lover, the run and me. There are no boundaries except those self imposed. It is in the thick of this relationship I am the truest form of myself, when I feel strongest, most beautiful, most passionate. Despite this difficult season the run seduces me, accepts me and welcomes me.

As I eat up the miles I remember the feelings, the tingle and the excitement. These moments are just for me, not for a race, not for anything other than joy, passion and beauty. Stoplights blink their familiar rhythm and the tiniest bite of chilly air brushes my arms and ruffles my ponytail. My lover grabs ahold of me, whispering sweetly to my soul, reminding me. You are enough, you are strong and beautiful. We will always have ups and downs, but I will be here for you mile after mile. I remembered the thrill as passion fueled my feet and the familiar joy of being reconnected and rekindled. I waved good morning to a bright eyed cat and thought over other mornings recently where my soul was awakened. 

I remember stepping outside weeks ago, it was warm by my standards. The sky was dark, dappled with the twinkle of stars and planets. My soul was craving time, I was tired and my eyes were scratchy from a restless night, but the road called. Breathing deeply I whispered good morning to the stars, set my watch and took off. My body felt angular and took a few minutes to warm up, but my shoes were anxious for their meeting. Day after day we have met, the early morning, the road and I. My shoes have changed, the weather has changed, my mood has changed and sometimes even my purpose has changed, but every day the road meets me. Houses sit back, lumbering giants in the darkness of pre-dawn quietly watching as I disturb the serene morning with the rhythmic, soft, muffled meeting of soles to asphalt. Music winds its way through my ears into my soul, coursing through my veins working to bring my body into sync. The moon is hiding, not yet rising in the east so the way is lighted only by the yellow glow of intermittent street lights and the quiet blink of red and yellow. It is early and the birds have not yet started their singing, bunnies are nestled into the tall grass, quietly watching, enjoying the chance to snuggle in. My runs are solace and this morning I needed the time, the quiet and the moments by myself. For the duration of my run I can get lost. It is only me. There are nobody else's expectations to meet, simply my own. I don't have to play nice and this is when I am the best version of myself. My shoulders are tense as the last few days burden my mind and my heart. Purposefully, 1/2 mile in, as I corner the blinking of an intersection, I breathe deeply and relax my shoulders. I will stress, other's expectations, sorrow, worry, and sadness to travel my body and escape through my soles to the road. They will be washed away, forgotten, at least for now. As I begin to eat up the miles I struggle, my mind is lost in the moment, but the last few days have seeped into every part of my body, muscles aching, mind tired and body not completely in sync. Running by the park, lights reflect off the pond, trees peek through with the hint of buds tipping the branches. No cars, no headlights, just quiet, music, the soft pad of my shoes, and the sleeping town. For these moments, everything else disappears, time stops, static disappears and my mind is at peace.

Another morning surfaces as I dance ten miles. 

In the darkness I heard the steady rhythm of the rain, drumming on the roof, knocking at the windows. It was 2:30 a.m. and I quietly rolled out of bed. The morning was ready for me and the run was waiting. At a beautiful 40 degrees, despite the rain, I felt shorts were warranted. Tucking my hair into my neon marathon cap and securing my earbuds I stepped onto the porch. The streetlights highlighted the steady curtain of rain, not a drizzle, but not a downpour. The black of the sky was deep with banks of clouds blocking out the stars and moon. The only sound permeating my music was the quiet insistence of the rain. With a deep breath and a click of my watch I set out, music working its way through my system, ready for a Monday morning run. Creeks flowed across the road, down gutters and the sound of rushing water increased near drains. It was a beautiful morning and with my mind blank I disappeared. For the next 8 miles my mind relaxed and everything was at peace. Raindrops bounced off my cap, small rivulets reached for my shoes and the inky black puddles gave the impression of endless depth. My shoulders relaxed, and my mind let go of everything. My morning meeting was a stolen moment, a time when the chaos of the world didn't intrude and when the only demand was taking the next step. The steady pitter patter created ripples on the puddles and continued a creek down each of the roads, The streetlights caught the fall of the drops centered in the warmth of yellow light. It wasn't cold, but I could feel the wetness creep through my jacket. When life is full of static, when it is near impossible to escape the division and fear that explodes over every venue, the quiet of a rain swept morning is an escape. There are no expectations, everyone is asleep, houses lie dark and quiet, sheltering their sleeping occupants. Animals have crept into burrows and trees to escape the wetness and I find solace. I am a lone runner in a town of 30,000. There are days when that solitude seems monumental and days, like today, when it is treasured and welcome. My time, my escape, my moments to enjoy. As my run continues I see familiar headlights, of the few regular cars, that hadn't fallen off with the chaos. I scoot over to the side of the road, wondering if I am invisible to them. Is their mind caught in the to do list, the job, the family or whatever else and do they drive with the mechanics of a robot moving from one place to the next, not pausing to see a solitary runner. Do some catch a glimpse and wonder if I am real, a mirage or a ghost? Do they just catch the slightest movement or an outlined shape before I move from the center of the road? On the darkened streets I pole bend the many puddles, knowing my shoes will be wet, but hoping to minimize how wet they actually get. Today my body is in sync and the run is not difficult. Songs coincide with my mood and I mouth the words as I make corners, smile at familiar landmarks and scooch out of early morning risers. I love the chance to be out, no mask, no people, no worries. Before dawn breaks the town is mine, allowing me to escape, where a single thread of normal exists. Hope lies in the routine and familiarity while darkness extinguishes the constant static intent to drive me crazy. Clarity exists without fear of offending someone. Midway through the run, heading down into a favorite stretch of the run, I feel normal. Absent are fear and cloudiness, almost as if the earth is cleansing the darkness. Raindrops continue to bounce off the payment, streets are slick with water and the crosswalks glisten as if freshly painted. Drops hug branches, growing chubby with more water before plummeting down to splash on the asphalt. On the downward part of my run I race the water as it courses through gutters splashing soothingly into the drains. My steps become cautious, sidestepping earthworms as the gather on the road. Stress and frustration eek through the bottom of my shoes  to be caught up in the rolling creeks running and be swept away in the drains. Grass glitters with diamond waterdrops breaking the darkness with emerald brilliance. The fragrance of wet earth and budding trees fill my senses. My soul is at peace.

Drifting back to the present and the comfort of my lover's arms I watch the sky begin to lighten. The familiar hiss and rat-tat-tat of the sprinklers mixes with the soft kiss of my shoes. Pushing through the final couple miles, heart pounding, muscles aching and body slick with sweat I realize my stamina is not what it used to be, but the relationship is the same. As I sip quietly from the Big Dipper and race the rising of the sun I believe in another seven years we will be together, sharing the beauty, the quiet moments and the stolen joy of a sleepy town. Moments I will treasure regardless of my pace or mileage. Those moments will remind me who I am, center me, give me hope and will comfort me as only the run can. 

Racing to finish I know the affair won't end. It can't. Daily my heart is drawn to our relationship and the spark of rekindled passion. 

Pandemic

For the first time in I can't remember how long, I didn't want to run. My body was tired, not physically, but emotionally. Knowing I would regret not running, I dragged myself out of bed and slowly got ready. Stepping onto the porch I missed many of the things I usually found beautiful during my runs. It was a pleasant morning, but the stars and sky seemed to be as introspective and somber as me. My legs are heavy as I start out and my heart isn't truly in it, but the activity is needed along with the hope of clearing my mind. The music is almost indiscernible, simply background noise as my mind begins to involuntarily swirl. My town is eerily quiet.

COVD-19 has taken over our lives. I am terrified and it has nothing to do with the virus. We understand the risk and do not make light of it, taking all of the appropriate steps we have stayed away from people, but there is so much that doesn't make sense to me. Unfortunately, even as a child, I was the "why" person. Never content to simply accept what I was told, but wanting to understand and learn. I would research, dig, learn and educate myself. Education is imperative in all situations, especially when emotion is the overriding catalyst. I have learned to be wary when people use emotion over logic to sway people. My history classes have taught me time and again to be vigilant.

As I run, thoughts race to the panic and hysteria washing across the United States over the last two months; people panic buying, sweeping shelves of necessities, cleaning supplies, hand sanitizer and even surgical masks. Cities and states on lockdown with more following daily, schools are shut down, businesses closing their doors and millions of people being laid off. To add to the overall stress the message is single-minded, delivered many times unprofessionally and treats an entire nation as if we are children; wash your hands and as so eloquently put by many physicians on social media, #staythefuckhome.

I have been running my household for 27 years. We taught our children good hygiene and to wash their hands early on. When they were sick we didn't let them go to school, have playdates or go in public nor did we take them to see their grandparents. If the school had cases of kids going home sick, our kids stayed away from grandparents for a few days to ensure they weren't passing things on. As adults we do the same thing. I find it beyond interesting the government and health industry now believe we are incapable of doing those things on our own and need to shut down businesses and regulate things that have been daily parts of our lives. I understand how many will respond; "The severity of this virus has astronomical ramifications, we are two weeks behind Italy and look at what is happening in Italy today, they have passed China in total deaths, with over 4,000. If we don't lock everything down our death toll will be much higher because of our population. People will lose their jobs and businesses, but that is just going to have to happen."

If you react or question any portion of the message, you are labeled as somebody that doesn't care about those impacted the most or there is an incorrect thought that you aren't taking it seriously. I am unable to speak for those around me but I will speak for myself and my family. Questioning the data and the "cure" because I am looking beyond the end of my nose, does not mean we are not taking it seriously. We are, I just happen to want a more thorough understanding of what we are being told and forced to do. In addition, it is imperative to look beyond the single crisis especially knowing that the current approach could potentially have the ability to collapse our economy and our country. I believe it is socially and economically irresponsible to focus on only one solution and situation without viewing  the entire impact of that solution.

My legs weigh thousands of pounds and I find myself walking, something I don't do. The music echoes in my ears and I only catch bits and pieces of songs. So much of my discomfort comes from the fact that I am a logical person, loving numbers and apples to apples comparisons. I don't blindly believe headlines, articles, every piece of information and hype people throw my way. I don't follow the crowd, nor have I ever. Over the last two months I have watched our country demonstrate sincere loss of individual, critical thought. Simply following propaganda, reposting without logically thinking about what they are reading or posting. Our news media once prided itself in researched, accurate information. Today it is about short soundbites designed to get the most clicks and manipulate as many as possible and it doesn't have to be true. Truth is a quality no longer scrutinized or required in the news. Headlines often share only partial information and are designed to elicit emotion, cause fear and panic. "Coronavirus sweeps through the United States with confirmed cases topping over 32,356 and the death toll over 400 as medical facilities across the nation face the inability to handle the mass of people being admitted, lacking on medical supplies and ventilators the country faces a crisis." The use of verbiage and hysteria make the information thousands of times worse. When you stop and think about the headline critically; the population of the United States is a little over 329,450,000 people. So currently .009% of the population has been confirmed, .009% and that doesn't count those that probably have it, but have not been confirmed. Does it honestly warrant the doomsday headline? Also, according to the CDC of those reported cases 98% are mild and 2% are listed as serious or critical. I understand it will spread and we will talk about that soon. Questioning the headline doesn't mean I'm not taking it seriously. I am choosing to think for myself, critically analyze the information and understand the full impact.  

The inconsistencies weigh heavily on my shoulders as I think about the national fallout of the current path our country is following. I feel the need to share the information I have found, but wonder if the better course of action is to respond like so many others; put my head down, post happy pictures, do what I'm told and hope that my family comes out ok on the other side? I wrestle with keeping quiet and letting others decide my fate or sharing my thoughts and risking social persecution?

Pausing about half way through my run, I walk, eyes watching my feet, shoulders drooping. In my attempt to understand, I take a step back to look at ALL of the repercussions of our current approach. It would be easy it to let it go, letting the news headlines continue to whip people into a panic, continue to watch as the government decides they know best and put us all in lockdown. Our state is currently not in lockdown, but I see it coming as more and more people are crying for a national lockdown. 

As I ponder, a song from the movie Small Foot breaks through my reverie, Perfection, sung by Channing Tatum.

"And hey, hey it's another day
Like every other
And I don't wanna change a thing
Not one little thing, I mean, because
I do what the stones say
And I'm doin' okay
What could be better than this?
It is what it is, it is perfection.

Look at everybody do their part
And they do it with a happy heart
And it gives them all a sense of greater purpose
Well that's the that I wanna be
I wanna make them all proud of me
Just be a steady yeti and deserve this."


In my exhausted and somber state I wonder if this is a sign? Am I supposed to ignore everything? And then I hear,


"(Do you seriously believe mammoths are holding us up?)
(Mhmm.)
(What's holding up the mammoths?)
(Uh, hello? It's just mammoths all the way down. Don't listen to them, they're questioning the stones and we don't do that, okay?)
If there's a question causing you to astray
Just stuff it down inside until it goes away."

The next song prompts me to step out, stand alone and speak out when nobody else will. These were the only two songs I really heard on my run. To swim against the current to share facts that could reduce panic and allow people see a more accurate comparison, prompting them to look at the entire situation and find a better solution is terrifying. The full implications, if I don't at least get people thinking critically about things, are even more terrifying, but it is better to be part of a better solution than part of the problem. So here goes.

I have heard, "we are two weeks behind Italy and it is spreading swiftly." Based on my research being two weeks behind Italy is false. According to the CDC and Wikipedia the first recorded case of COVID-19 in the United States was January 20. The first recorded case in Italy was January 31, meaning, Italy is almost two weeks behind the United States.

"We will see more deaths because of population if we don't shut down the country." I have seen videos, passed around hundreds of times, showing what could happen when COVID-19 spreads. Those make sense and seem valid, if it were an apples to apples scenario. Italy to America is not a balanced comparison.

Italy is part of Europe and sits on 116,347 square miles. The total population of Italy is 60,500,000 people. Meaning, on average, there are 519 people per square mile in Italy. 26% of their population is over the age of 65.

The United States has 329,450,000 people and sits on 3,797,000 square miles in the continental United States, equating to 86 people per square mile. 14.9% of the population are over 65 years old.

China has 1,435,000,000 and sits on 3,705,000 square miles meaning 387 people per square mile. 17.9% of their population is over 65.

Wuhan, China, where the virus originated, has a little over 11,000,000 people and sits on 3,280 square miles meaning there are 3,353 people per square mile.

New York City has 8,623,000 people and sits on 302 square miles meaning there are 28,552 people per square mile.

So why is this information important? Working in research, scaling is an important aspect. You can complete an experiment in a laboratory, but you need to be able to scale the results up or down to estimate results appropriately for different situations. What we are currently seeing in the United States, in regards to Italy, is a conversion of the virus based solely on population and perceived death rate percentage. The problem is, the scenarios are completely different.

Using basic biology and the information above here is what I see, starting with averages.

In Italy there is an average of 519 people per square mile with roughly 31 of those in the high risk category, because of age. This does not include additional health conditions. To put things on a more even ground we need to look a little deeper and consider culture and health care. Italy is a very gregarious culture, social greetings often consist of kissing on the cheeks and hugs. Many families reside together and large gatherings are a normal occurrence. When you look at the statistics published by Statista Research Department heart failure was the main cause of hospitalization in Italy followed by COPD with 65+ being the largest group hospitalized. This means the population in Italy was already fighting many of the issues that made people high risk for COVID-19. Italy just passed China in total deaths as a result of the virus, which makes sense based on the above information.

The United States has an average of 86 people per square mile with only 12 being high risk based solely on age. I among others, are huggers, but kissing is not a normal social greeting in the United States. In some circumstances we will shake hands, but it is more often, a simple, "Hey, what's up?" Two other things weigh in favor of the US; I believe health care is better in the United States than in most countries, with access to hospital's, physicians, and specialized medicine. Our society also leans toward germaphobe. In fact, many countries have been confused by how often American's wash their hands. Society has been wiping down shopping carts, restaurant tables, door knobs for years. The U.S. faces heart disease and the 65+ age group being the highest rate for hospitalization.

Based on all of the above information, logically, a virus in going to spread much quicker in Italy than it is in the United States and be more deadly. Using basic math and the numbers above the virus could spread 83% quicker in Italy.

Average population per square mile is not perfectly distributed across any country. Higher populated areas will see higher numbers of infected and the virus will spread at a faster rate. With 28,552 people per square mile in New York City with 4,254 at high risk based on age means you will see more confirmed cases and more deaths. Higher populated areas typically have worse air quality and  different living conditions.The three largest cities in the United States are New York City, Los Angeles and Chicago, not unexpectedly all of those cities are seeing increased cases of COVID-19.

Looking at where the virus originated, Wuhan China, you can understand  with 3,353 people per square mile how it spread so quickly. Increasing the impact of the virus is the fact that air pollution and poor air quality is a very real issue in China. The population is already fighting lung issues putting them at a higher risk.

In Wyoming, where I live, there are 577,737 people in 97,818 square miles, averaging only about 6 people per square mile. The risk of spreading is much lower. In fact, many of the current 24 cases in Wyoming are traced back to a handful of people. This is a good indicator that a one size doesn't fit all in implementing lockdowns.

The other thing that weighs heavy on me is the skewed death rate percentage. The number being used daily for the death rate percentage is incorrect as it doesn't include ALL cases of COVID-19. Both Wuhan and Italy only tested the most critical, especially at the beginning of the spread. CDC and WHO have both stated that over 80% of those that have the virus will experience little to no symptoms and are not being tested or counted in the total, which skews the death rate percentage.  Right now in the U.S. there are 32,356 confirmed cases and 414 deaths. Using those numbers means the death rate is currently 1.27%.  When you add the estimated 80% not currently included in the total number of cases the total goes from 32,356 to 161,780, meaning 129,414 cases have not been reported. Using total cases, including confirmed and estimated unreported, the death rate drops to .25%. Why do I think these numbers are important? Because I am afraid, in fact terrified, that by using partial information and fear we are going to cause unbelievable, potentially irreversible damage to this country. The "cure" is going to be more devastating than the virus itself, especially when you hear whispers of a pandemic causing multiple waves, lasting 12 to 18 months, requiring lock downs and work from home scenarios for that length of time.

In digging into research and attempting a more multiple-focus approach to COVID-19, I looked at the economic impacts as well as other impacts. While searching for the most current numbers citing layoffs, furloughs and jobs affected I ran into roadblock after roadblock. Every search led to multiple articles talking about how a nationwide lockdown might be necessary to contain the virus. Based on my numbers above, I struggled with these headlines. To find the jobs impacted I had to go directly to company sites. Here is small sampling of layoffs and job impact estimations, 70,000 jobs were stopped when Disney World shut down, 23,000 jobs were stopped when Disneyland shut down. The travel industry estimates 4 million jobs will be affected. IATSE had 120,000 lay offs, Halliburton just furloughed 7,000. These are all big corporations. and only a small sampling, there are thousands more, not including the small local businesses.

When I look around my town, our University is essentially shut down, and they are the largest employer in Laramie, parking lots at our hotels are empty, local shops, bars and restaurant have shut down. Many working to try to provide some curbside service and/or gift certificates. Local gyms, retail establishments, service businesses like hair salons and spas and even churches are shut down. EVERY business has been affected and the majority have already taken a dramatic plunge in revenue. The overlying thought is, we will deal with that later, the loss of jobs and businesses are collateral damage. If the pressure for complete lockdowns and longer closures continue we will be in a situation where millions of jobs are lost with thousands upon thousands of businesses being impacted beyond repair. Currently, in Wyoming, it is estimated that everything will remain closed for two weeks, but if we follow peer pressure we could look at businesses being closed through April, May and even longer. 53% of Americans currently live paycheck to paycheck and in small towns like Laramie, where so many businesses are locally owned, the impact will be catastrophic. People look to lose their entire livelihood by doing something that, based on the above numbers does NOT MAKE SENSE, especially considering there are other options.

We are looking at losing millions of  more jobs in the next couple of months. Some employees will receive checks for a few weeks, some will work from home for a while and others, many of whom I know, will no longer have an income stream. How long until they lose their homes? Now with borders closing to only essential items in states such as New York, Pennsylvania, California and Illinois, other small businesses are closing. Let me remind you, the current total is 32,356 with 98% of those mild cases and 2% serious or critical, and we are closing hundreds of thousands of businesses and putting millions into unemployment. Many large companies, in an effort to avoid the hike in unemployment are listing employees at zero hours rather than laid off. Those people won't qualify for unemployment and for those that do qualify, claims have already risen exponentially. The unemployment system, is not meant to be flooded with millions of claims. This will bankrupt unemployment and hike rates, making it financially difficult for any small business, if they are even able, to come back online, When businesses resume in 6 months, 12 months or even 18 months from now, most small businesses will not have survived. Large corporations will be first to respond and in an attempt to recoup lost revenue, prices will increase. People who have been without a steady income for months or even a year will struggle even more. The economic implications go even further and deeper, but I will leave the simple ramifications here.

The next implications make my heart ache. Our world is in chaos, people are flooded almost by the minute with ads, discussions, social media posts, news information, stories from friends of friends, all with an underlying doomsday message. The stress from trying to navigate what we are being told along with many losing jobs, paychecks and worrying about the loss of their homes and livelihood will increase mental health issues. I believe we could see a significant rise in adult suicide, especially if lockdowns continue for months. The feeling of hopelessness could be magnified when the nation seems to put little value in their jobs or their situation beyond COVID-19.

Cases of reported domestic violence and child abuse will increase and if reported cases are on the rise, unreported cases will increase as well. Clinics around the country have already seen a sharp rise in child abuse cases. Many children in abusive situations look to school and daycare as a sanctuary. A large majority of child abuse cases are reported by teachers and day care providers. School and day care provides a safe island for these children to escape 4 to 5 times a week. Now, these same children are unable to leave volatile situations. Already agitated parents are experiencing even more stress. Currently more than 4 children die daily from child abuse and neglect with 70% of those being children under 3 years old. 2.9 million cases of child abuse are reported yearly, with many going unreported. A study conducted during the last recession saw a 30% increase in child abuse and neglect. Applying those numbers we could see an estimated 870,000 more children as reported victims of child abuse. 870,000. Using the current estimated number of 4 children per day who lose their lives to child abuse, we can estimate an annual reported number of 1,460. Applying the 30% increase from the last recession that number could jump to almost 1900 with the economic implications of our current plan for COVID-19.

None of this takes into account other aspects of life that are being affected. Schools across the country are closed, seniors are losing their senior years including final years, for many, to participate in loved senior activities; whether it be sports, culinary, FFA, drama. Students are facing not being able to take college prep exams such as the ACT or SAT, which will impact the junior class immensely. Teachers are thrown into situations from K-12 where they now are required to design an online course that meets all of the requirements. How do you teach weights, wood shop, auto, PE or other similar classes online. How do you teach the first years of elementary school online? How does it work for students who don't have dependable access to the interne, those who learn better in a live environment or those that need specialized learning? College students are also losing graduations, being forced to online classes with many that require labs. College athletes are losing seasons and for those who are seniors it is not as simple as adding another year of eligibility. College graduates are now facing failed, stalled and non-existent job markets.

As I piece together my research, one more thing nags at the back of my conscience. Just recently it has come to light that those representing us in congress have capitalized on the current crisis. Of those accused one story continues to cause me to really evaluate my numbers and the country's response to COVID-19. Kelly Loeffler began to sell equities January 24, just days after the first reported U.S. case, and the day congress received a briefing on COVID-19. Over the month she made 29 stock transactions totaling over seven figures with one of the two purchases being into a company called Citrix which offers work from home software. There have been a total of four congressmen that have been accused of potential insider trading. This makes me question whether or not these people truly have our best interests at heart. Unfortunately when we allow the government to enforce a police state and choose what is best for us they move from serving the people, to controlling the people. The implications of this virus will not affect those in office. Their health care is exponentially better than the average Joe, they will not experience job loss and currently all representing us are millionaires or if they aren't they will be soon.

As I near the end of my run I follow the trail of my thoughts, and think of my mom. My mom is extremely high risk. She is 70+ years old, has heart issues, diabetes, lung issues, is on oxygen and has immune system issues. I take her health seriously as does she. She has quarantined herself, to the point of not even taking mail from the mail person. We have not gone to see her, even though, we have remained at home and do not have any symptoms. To help keep them safe, I helped my dad with errands, meeting him, rather than traveling in the same vehicle. I went into the public places to take care of his errands, minimizing my contact with people. I delivered their taxes and prescriptions through his truck window. I didn't touch him or hug him, which was difficult for me. As a family, we are working to keep them both safe. 

In light of  everything I shared, I don't believe the current response is the best solution, and I am not one to chatter without sharing a potential solution. This solution doesn't rely on one extreme or the other, which seems to be the current state. The group most impacted, with the highest chance of fatality are those 60+ , those who are immune compromised or with pre-existing health issues including heart and lung issues. There seems to be an increase in cases of young people. I would believe there is a direct correlation between those young people who have vaped and those experiencing more severe symptoms of COVID-19. Many of those falling into the serious or critical category live in retirement homes or were already admitted to hospitals. The last deaths listed were as follows; 83 year old, 50 year old with underlying medical conditions, 77 year old with underlying medical conditions, 90 year old with underlying medical conditions, 52 year old with underlying health conditions, 70 year old, 90 year old and a 67 year old with underlying medical conditions. I imagine many of those at high risk, like my mom, are used to watching out for themselves during high risk situations and have already taken on the responsibility for their own health. 

My solution, 

1. People take responsibility for their own personal health and the personal health of their families, including those that are high risk. If you are high risk. Stay home. We don't need the government telling us how to do something we have been doing for years. 

2. Multiple cases have been traced to single nursing homes or even hospitals. Nursing homes, assisted living and retirement communities are on quarantine and shut down to the public.  

3. Hospitals are on high watch with no unnecessary visitors and those needing to be at the hospital for other things are tested for temperature and symptoms. 

4. Health care workers for hospitals, assisted living, retirement communities and nursing homes are on high watch, monitoring their personal health, temperature and signs of the virus. Contact with your family is limited based on their daily activities.

5. Highly populated areas are handled in a case by case basis and are not used as an example for the rest of the country.  

6. As we have done for years and years, if you feel sick stay home. If your kid is sick keep him home. This is not new information and really shouldn't even need to be shared.

7.  For those that are high risk, stay home. We can create situations allowing them to work from home.  If their job is not conducive to working from home, then as a community we find a way to assist until they are able to return to work. This allows them to be safe and continue to bring in income. It is much easier to assist a select few this way than a large majority of the country. 

By forcing national shut downs, we not only put those who may contract the virus at risk, but millions of others, just in different ways. The current single-minded, all or nothing, approach has led to panic, hoarding and the exponential loss of jobs, without verification it is the best approach. By taking responsibility for ourselves and our family and placing the emphasis on those most affected in our communities, we are better equipped to deal with the long-term and short-term affects of this virus. Allow businesses and schools to resume and call upon our country to help those otherwise compromised. 

As I finish my run, my heart is heavy. I ask our government and our health care industry to look at the situation clearly, using full comparisons. As leaders explain, educate and have faith in your community. Don't use fear or panic. I encourage everyone else to look beyond this moment. Is this the best solution? If not, start asking questions, start making noise, work to make change before we are past the point of no return.

Autumn

Stepping out, the brisk air nipped at my bare legs. It was 40 degrees but still warm enough for shorts in my book.The sky was a deep charcoal, brightened by the light of the moon. Taking a deep breath, I let the music run through my veins and took off. Fall was in the air and it made me a little sad. I am 100% a summer girl, but there is beauty in each season. As my body warmed up I thought about how often I catch myself existing in the day to day cycle, forgetting to look around and experience life. The simplest things are phenomenal, like the changing of the seasons. When I pause to notice God's brush strokes I am in awe of the true beauty.

Despite frigid temperatures and a blanket of snow last week, grass is still green, the hardiest of flowers bobbed in the breeze and leaves have just begun their descent. A mixture of stimuli teases my senses as my feet kiss the pavement. Although the thermometer says 40 degrees, it is different from a spring or summer 40 degrees. The breeze dancing around me, has a different feel, a different sound and a different bite. The wind tugs more purposefully at leaves still clinging to trees. Sounds are sharper and carry further. Rich spice permeates the air as wood smoke mixes with the mulch of fallen leaves.

The crunch of leaves matches the tempo of my music and I realize even sounds change from summer to autumn. Gone are the whoosh and rat-tat-tat of morning sprinklers, mid-day children's laughter and the drone of bees and insects; replaced by the buzz of chain saws, melodious drums from school bands, school bells and the cheers and shouts of football games.

The moon hung chubby in the sky and stars twinkled brighter in the crisp air. When the sun begins to rise and when it sets, the vibrancy and hue of the sunrise and sunset will be different. The horizon will be saturated with autumn orange and red overpowering the pinks and yellows of summer. Leading up to the frigid days of winter, the sun takes a shortcut through the sky, touching the Earth's surface with less brilliant, cooler rays of light. The bright yellow hue of our summer sun takes a step back to a softer, lighter lemonade color.

Marching swiftly behind the final traces of summer, through the cold mornings, warm days and chilly nights, are the soldiers of fall; schedules, new notebooks, crayons, pencils and textbooks, hot dogs, hamburgers, hot chocolate and football games, tailgating pumpkins and chocolate, superheroes, princesses, villains and the laughter-filled shout of trick or treat.

As the miles tick by my mind begins a new rhythm.


One last kiss as summer leaves
A sad good-bye to the green of trees
Golden hair turns back to brown
As autumn's hold sneaks through town

The crack of bats no longer heard
As bands and football take their turn
Bikinis, towels and sunscreen gone
Replaced by jeans and jackets warm

Fairies paint from green to red
And gently kiss the leaves to bed
Air is cold as fur turns white
The pool is quiet and the stars are bright

Pumpkins grin orange and bold
With crooked smiles and candle glow
Doorbells ring as monsters greet
Trick-or-treat chants fill the street

Days are short and nights are long
Flirty wind gets cold and strong
Now is time to erase the doubt
Welcome autumn, summers out

Enough

Many times my writing is prompted by thoughts or feelings as I run. Today was different, I was overcome with such a strong conviction in the middle of the day to close my eyes and write. I have learned to follow those feelings. As I wrote, tears streamed down my face and my soul ached. This story is not about me, but believe we have all been in similar dark places. The desperation that comes with depression and suicide is painful and as a warning this story is raw. I'm not sure why I needed to write this, but maybe the words will speak to someone. YOU are enough.


ENOUGH
Walking up the well worn dirt trail the wind whipped around, tugging and pulling at her hair. The bite of autumn seeped into her body. Carefully watching her step through the rugged ruts she focused on reaching the top of the hill, her thoughts distant and full of discontent. The day itself echoed her feelings. It was late afternoon, with very few people on the trails. The chill having chased them all inside. Her shoulders slumped and hot tears clung to her eyelashes. She was lost. Her soul ached for some type of confirmation. Breaching the top, the wind began a new onslaught whipping her curls across her face, stinging her cheeks. Still in shorts and her favorite sweathshirt she shivered. Searching for solace she tried to take a deep breath and it caught. She couldn't seem to fill her lungs.

Sitting down she carefully set her rifle next to her. Despite the bleakness enveloping the town it still held an untainted beauty. Looking below, houses were clustered in quiet neighborhoods with streets connecting succinctly, in mostly straight lines, to the north, south, east and west. It was all very neat and tidy. Looking west the clouds were low, angry and grey, chasing across the sky engulfing other clouds in front of it. Snow was expected in the high country, which didn't come as a surprise. It was September and fair game, but she wasn't ready for it. Did it really matter, though? Next to her, the deep wood and black barrel of her rifle was a sharp contrast to the silty white dirt and faded rocks. She sighed and a tear escaped her lashes trailing down her cheek to fall onto her exposed legs. She was lost. Her heart ached.

Helplessly she wrestled with the thoughts racing through her mind, hoping for the cool salvation of logic. Trees swayed in the wind, rustling their leaves, lawns, still a vibrant shade of summer green surrounded homes and bright flowers tumbled from flowerbeds and flower pots. It all seemed a different lifetime, so far from where she sat with muted colors and an unfamiliar detachment. In this moment, her thoughts were bleak, racing on the wind; sadness, anger, darkness, worthlessness, hopelessness. These feelings were no stranger, fighting against her with each situation. Each time she wrestled the thoughts, pushing them down to the pit of her stomach and trying to move forward. Every happy thought or memory, though, was shadowed with unhappiness. She was a failure. She knew it and could feel it. More and more she struggled to get out of bed, struggled to face the day. The joy and happiness that was once an integral part of her soul escaped on the back of the wind.

Her brain fought for logic, replaying what everyone usually says when there is internal pain; you have so much to be thankful for, a roof over your head, food on your table, you have a family that loves you, even if you don't think so, tomorrow is another day, there are so many people who have it much worse. Unfortunately logic wasn't taking her past the deep seated darkness. Logical arguments didn't make sense and made her feel worse, more of a failure, as every moment of thankfulness could be blotted out. The pain and sorrow was illogical. She thought of all the conversations in situations like this, what everyone immediately said; how could that person do that? What a selfish decision. They were married and had children, how could they not think of their family?

Honestly how could she continue? The pain was so intense. Getting up was more and more difficult as her continuous failures played day after day through her mind. Her heart looked at situation after situation, moment after moment. Where did she bring worth? People she loved and invested in needed her simply to need her, not because she brought value to their lives. Her family cared, but that seemed tied more to the tasks she did than the person she was. Many times the burden of keeping up with everything drained her, especially when it seemed she couldn't do anything right. She was drained. She didn't have the strength anymore. The mask she wore hid the daily struggle, hid the circling thoughts and the constant beckoning of the darkness.

Her breathing hitched again. Absently she caressed her rifle looking around. Clouds hid the sun as they banked and tumbled over each other in every direction. The town was subdued, reflecting the weather and the rumble of traffic was lost on the wind, making cars seem like silent ghosts. Birds were hiding in trees, huddled up, not ready to feel the bite of winter or cold. Glancing up, hoping for something, she saw a lone hawk riding the wind. Wings fully spread gliding on buffeting air currents. She wondered if she would miss moments of beauty like that. In truth, it didn't matter. She brought pain to people. She was reminded often of her flaws. She knew perfection was unachievable but wished she could find some value for her life. She was always at fault, hearing her flaws recited by others; controlling, unforgiving, selfish. She could hear the quiet conversations, how each situation would have been better had SHE not been there. Those around her seemed so unhappy and just maybe they could find happiness once again. She had never been any good. What friends would miss her? She didn't really have any.

Her head ached as the darkness licked at the side of her vision and whispered quietly in her ears. The pain would be over. Escape the darkness. Be free from your failings. You don't matter anyway. Do you think they will miss you? The truth is their lives will finally begin when you are gone. You brought no legacy, no brightness to this world. You didn't touch people or make things positive. You were the problem in all of those situations. The thoughts beat at her. She fought against the pain, each time it crept closer, but she was losing. She was a failure. She had no worth. She brought nothing valuable to the world and people around her.

Tears streamed down her face without her realizing. The wind called seductively with the darkness. She tried hopelessly to draw on her faith, calling out quietly for guidance, for hope, for something to erase the darkness, help her see worth. She knew she was lacking, though. Voices, reciting all the different rules necessary to be saved, drove through her mind; regular church goer, tither, must attend this church or that church, reconciliation, baptism, must receive communion regularly, must fast, must pray, must, must, must. In darkness she didn't meet those rules, and based on those thoughts was unworthy of his love, his acceptance and his guidance. The world outlined conditions to be children of God and she didn't meet those. Scripture said the least of these and she was not the least.

People didn't understand. The void yanked happiness away. There was no light, her presence brought nothing but pain and sorrow. She sobbed. The words circled like the hawk above her, worthless, never good enough, amount to nothing, hopeless, stupid, the world will be better without you. It is your fault. Your fault. Your fault. My fault for all of it. The wretched darkness would disappear and the sun would shine brighter for everyone who knew me. I am poison. My thoughts draw out the worst and not the best. Their lives will be better and happier without me in them.

Reaching to her left she grabbed her gun. The barrel was cool, black steel to match the blackness of the day and the blackness of her heart. Life will be happier without me. Propping the gun between her knees, butt balanced in the silty dirt, she caressed the end of the barrel. Tears streaming down her face she opened her mouth. Running her hand softly down the barrel she closed her eyes and found the safety, quietly clicking it off. There was no more joy. She couldn't talk about it, she couldn't burden others, she couldn't fight the pain and sadness anymore. A cloud of darkness surrounded her waiting patiently. Awkwardly stretching her hand she reached the trigger. Wind roared in her ears, but the town below her continued. In a few seconds it would be better for them all. The clouds would leave and the sun would reappear. They would find the happiness she couldn't find. Pushing on the trigger she closed her eyes. Enough. Mouth wrapped tightly around the barrel, she felt the click and in an instant a flash ripped through her brain. Her body relaxed and the darkness lifted.  

Looking over she saw herself, or what was left. It was then she felt him. He was sitting next to her, quietly watching her. Tears were still flowing down her face. Was that possible? Her heart didn't feel the escape she hoped for. Reaching over he pulled her to him, cradling her head on his shoulder. She sobbed uncontrollably. Years of sadness and pain, years of feeling unworthy, of not meeting expectactions, years of failures and years disappointing others ran as salty rivers down her cheeks and into his robes. She cried for her decision, not knowing how she could have changed it. She cried for the burden she had left and the way her family would see her. She felt it would be one more testament to her weakness, to her unworthiness, to her flaws and imperfection.

He held her closely as she continued to cry. His heart ached when his children were lost. In moments like these, though, he could feel the anger well up as intensely as the sadness. Anger that only a parent can understand. Anger fueled by the pain and anguish of one of his children. He held her, stroking her hair, quieting the wind and willing the clicks of time to stop. He held her tightly as her body continued to be wracked with sobs. In her years he had never seen her cry so much. He knew her heart and mind, but sometimes such deep pain was hidden even from him. Sensing the end of her tears and feeling her body begin to grow heavy, he gently he pushed her up so she could see him. She kept her eyes cast down, not wanting to see the condemnation or the validation she was a failure. She felt, even in the eyes of the Lord she was worthless. How could she be anything less with the damaged shell sprawled out on the ground next to her.

His heart ached as he felt her thoughts. Tucking her hair behind her ears he looked deeply at her. You are light and your light is needed. Darkness fights against you, against all. Don't bear the burden of perfection. It is unachievable. Focus on me, focus on my gifts. You have my strength and are stronger than the weakness of humanity. ALL of my children are blesssed with my strength. It doesn't come from human based buildings, or rules and regulations, but directly from me. When the darkness whispers, look up, search for me with your heart. I am always near. There is more to your story sweet one."

The wind whistled around her and she felt the cold steel tap her teeth. Her finger was poised and pushing slowly. Moving her finger she pulled away. New tears poured from her eyes as she gingerly moved her rifle. Tapping the safety she set it back down next to her.  

Through the wind she heard the cry of the hawk, drawing her gaze up. He rode the air circling just above her, The smallest opening appeared in the clouds and the warmth of the sun kissed her upturned cheeks. She felt his hand on her shoulder and heard his voice in her heart. I love you child. You will always be enough. 

Change

The alarm tapped into my mind like the incessant buzzing of a mosquito. Quickly snapping it off, I lay with my eyes closed for a couple of seconds. I didn't want to run. My eyes remained closed as my brain warred with the pros and cons of running. Eight miles seemed infintely longer at 3:00 in the morning than it had a mere 4 hours earlier when I closed my eyes to sleep. The dark room lit up momentarily as I glanced at my phone for the temperature. 55 degrees was perfect running weather. Change was coming and runs at that temperature would be fewer and further between. Rolling out, I gathered my watch, phone and earbuds, vowing to get it finished.

Stepping onto the front porch I breathed deeply, stretching my arms above my head. The moon lounged plump and bright in the western sky. It's light bathing the ground and mixing with pre-dawn blackness to paint the sky deep charcoal and blue. Only the brightest stars defied the moon's beams, peeking out at irregular intervals. Giving myself an internal pep talk, I set my Garmin and took off. The focus would be to finish without thinking about mile splits.

Striding the first stretch, my muscles warmed up quickly, allowing me to enjoy the morning. Getting into a rhythm I savored the surrounding beauty and the silence of my sleepy town, thankful I chose to get out of bed. My thoughts, for the most part, were quiet, which is unusual considering my mind is typically on maximum overdrive. The internal quiet allowed me to reflect on the past week and weeks to come. Change. Today would be the first full week of school for my youngest. Summer is officially over. My heart ached thinking about it. I was now hugging a junior in high school each morning.

Summer flew by and I thought of the little moments over the past few months that meant the most to me; the few sleepy mornings Rockstar wasn't up for weights at 6:00 or 7:00, when he would search me out for a morning hug, the hugs and smiles as he headed out the door before the sun was up. The rustling of T as he was up for weights and then work, the hugs, prayers before breakfast and then watching them both drive off to meet their day. Each morning as they left I stood at the door or on the porch and waved. They always drive slowly and wave back. It seemed a simple thing to wave the first time T drove off in his truck at 16, but now I treasure those quick moments. The ability to watch them grow up in a single snapshot taken over and over again.

My oldest has been slowly moving into his new apartment and yesterday was his final day at home. I cried and I'm not a crier. I have savored every moment with him this summer, hugs, laughs, memories, meals and even laundry. We have been prepping and planning since before the 15th, his official move-in day. He's excited, as are we, but I believe we were all dreading the change. He might have even delayed making the final jump to help his parents transition. An apartment is more permanent, without the need to come home for meals or laundry and seems to be the next step towards self-sufficient independence.

With each step this morning I work to regulate my breathing and heart rate. Thinking of the over six years I've run this town, I glance at homes I've passed hundreds upon hundreds of times. I've watched patterns, routines and seasons change with each home. I've seen grass and flowers grow, bloom and die, winter wind bang the windows and snow pile around the sidewalks. I've seen sprinklers paint the dark streets and golden leaves chase each other to the ground. I have seen windows bright with red, white and blue bunting, jack-o-lanterns, turkeys and glowing Christmas trees. Change is inevitable and necessary and just like growing pains, can sometimes hurt. It helps challenge us, forcing us to grow by looking for new and different experiences.

With each step I kiss the pavement and absorb the beauty of the summer morning. Music streams through my buds, but doesn't impact me as much as in days past, simply providing background music for my swirling thoughts. The sky seems darker mid-run with the moon dropping for a much needed nap on the other side of the world. Hidden stars begin to peek between what is left of the dark dawn. Warm breezes, full of summer, touch my senses with smell. Wanting to cling to summer as long as possible I breathe in; a field of flowers, freshly mowed grass mixed with the sweet scent of a cherry lollipop, brewing coffee drifts from the hospital and a few fast food places warming the stoves for breakfast. Each car I pass carrys its own signature; fresh cologne, cigarette smoke or the pungent smell of  an unwashed body. It is a tapestry that mixes beautifully or painfully with the vision of the morning.

Moonbeams bounce off leaves, turning them from dark summer green to fairy world silver. Grass, damp from sprinklers, catches the moon and reflects glowing diamonds caught between the blades. Orion, the mighty hunter, begins his hike slowly across the sky waiting for the bright camouflage of the sun. I imprint all of this, knowing this will change as well. In a month, or even a week the bite of fall will change my runs. The fairy silver and green leaves will morph into the yellow, red and orange of autumn. The soft edges that accompany heat filled summer days will give way to the sharpness of cold air and biting wind.

Despite my earlier struggle, the run is going well, my legs are loose, my shoulders remain relaxed and I continue knocking out mile after mile. Bunnies race me up empty streets and cats watch and wonder with shining eyes. Each one receives a smile, wave and a quiet good morning. The time changes with each step and I am closer to finishing. Toward the final mile the solitude and stolen moments of quiet begin to disappear. Others begin to rise, preparing for their day. Lights click on, shining through windows, bathing sidewalks and streets in a calm yellow glow. The purr of engines can be heard coming behind me and the unblinking stare of headlights trumble toward me. The morning is beginning and homes are waking up.

I think of my house, the beginning and end of my runs and home to so many, moments, memories and changes. Though not fancy, our little house has watched us grow, making many changes with us along the way. It was our first major purchase as a couple, with two empty bedrooms and plenty of room for guests. It has seen us raise our boys, provided shelter, kept us safe and weathered many storms internally and externally. Guest rooms turned to offices, a nursery and toddler rooms. Toys changed to sports equipment and we changed again by adding a basement with separate bedrooms. Decorations changed to reflect the seasons and the boys' ages. Now it changes again as we have a quasi-empty room that will once again be used for guests. The fence was the first addition to our home 22 years ago.  We were giddy with excitement to finish enclosing our backyard, providing a place for our big dog to romp around. In the years that have elapsed the space has changed, seeing plastic toddler slides and kiddy pools, a trampoline, slip and slides, nerf guns, golf balls and now a deck.

Change. I kick up my pace for the final half mile thinking of our life. In two more years our life will face another major change. Our house will be quiet, echoing only the ramblings of empy-nesters, but we will be thankful and embrace the new adventure.

Finishing the last hill I turn off my Garmin and smile. We have raised incredible young men, created amazing memories and a life to be thankful for and proud of. Each season of change hasn't been easy. We have fought, cried, laughed and loved. We have jumped in with both feet on big decisions, sometimes winging it as we went. Our lives have been measured by embracing moments during change; hugs the boys never stopped giving, regardless of their ages; "I love you"s  in front of friends, waves and smiles as they drove to school, sports or a job; pride and excitement for a first apartment. Life is measured by a simple, uprompted text from our 20 year old, the day after he moves out, "I love you guys."

Climb the Mountain

My eyes were gritty when my alarm went off at 3:00 am. Very little sleep the night before and a summer storm blasting through a couple hours earlier had me feeling groggy. The desire to roll over and snuggle under the covers was strong, but I needed to run. Sliding out of bed I began the routine that always soothed my negative thoughts and got my mind ready to run.

Dressed and ready, I cued my music and stepped into the early morning. Only furrows of hail remained from the storm; white, snaking over the inky blackness of the street.  Storm clouds lingered, adding layers of darkness by blocking light from stars and the brilliance of the strawberry moon. Giant ebony puddles overflowed from every dip and depression in the asphalt, shining with bright reflections from street lights and stop lights.

The instant I pushed play, music moved through my blood like fire, urging my muscles to ignite. Dodging water, I vowed to take it easy and get my feet back under me. It was quiet; birds still sleeping, maybe still huddled from the storm, and no traffic. My shoes kissing the street and my breathing were the only sounds breaching the silence. My soul yearned for this solitude as I merged to the middle of the road, hugging the center line. This was my town. My feet have left prints on nearly every street north, east, south and west. Some days the run challenged, other days it soothed, sometimes it was a chore and days like today the run is a need. My playlist, although set to shuffle, felt my mood; we would be rocking today.

The first mile is always the most difficult. My body and mind act like spinster sisters, spatting constantly at one another, making each step a chore. Gauging my first mile by the songs in my ears and the time it takes to hit turn points I estimate a fairly slow mile. Blocking out any negative thoughts this might spur, I just run.

Warm air, hovering close to 50 degrees, makes my mood soar. Periodically, spray from the wet road kicks up from my shoes, dotting the back of my legs. As I make my first turn, half a mile in, I smile. Steam covers my path, rising up from the wet streets like wispy phantoms. Plunging headlong into their midst I am briefly swallowed up only to emerge unscathed on the other side. Making my second turn I enjoy not having seen a single vehicle. Swinging wide, I avoid a puddle leaving the clear glass surface to reflect the blinking stoplights. Mentally I calculate my split as I near the end of the first mile. Anticipating the buzz on my wrist, as I cross the intersection, I look down, 8:15, quicker than I estimated. A good first mile split gears me up for a faster run with a strong desire to push rather than coast. The music zooming through my spirit agreed.

Stretching out my stride I think about how many runs have been in cruise control; going through the motions even when my soul cried out for more. In life, I have found myself simply going through the motions, acting as a spectator while real life happened around me. I thought about our weekend and the mountain.

As a family we went off the grid to celebrate my oldest's birthday and Father's Day. Preparation for these trips is always systematic and, at times, frustrating. 1,000 little things become irritants, perspective gets lost and auto-pilot engages. Once we were finally en-route, though, I took a few deep breaths and really looked around. We've traveled this interstate hundreds of times, but had I really noticed the old buildings next to the road, the way the mountains perched on the horizon like sleeping giants, or how clouds drifted and tickled peaks casting shadows over the valleys like birds of prey swooping over the fields? Maybe I've noticed some of those things, but more often I was lost in the movement to the next destination. How easy it was to go through the motions, simply existing rather than experiencing.

Beginning my ascent up the killer hill at the end of my second mile, I thought about our traditional camping spot and the surrounding mountains and hills. Once off the interstate we travel a dirt road that has felt our tires many times over the last 15 to 20 years. We know every copse of trees, every dip in the road, every turn and recognize every vast and beautiful mountain top. As we drove in this weekend I remember thinking how amazing the view would be from the top of any of those mountains. For almost 20 years I have watched, on cruise control, without ever really seeing or thinking about the beauty beyond. A fierce desire rose from my heart to not simply view the mountains from the windows of a car, but to go beyond what most people see. At that moment I knew we would climb a mountain.

My wrist buzzed, sharing a decent second mile. Pushing harder, I wandered back to the weekend.

After we were settled and fed, I broached the idea of hiking a mountain. I was passionate enough to climb by myself, but would enjoy sharing the experience with my boys. In mutual agreement we hopped into the CanAm in search of our mountain. It was a moment to treasure as our oldest drove, our youngest was in the passenger side, and the hubs and I, with our puppy, in the back. Memories flooded my mind of small boys anxiously hoping to be out of a car seat, then hoping to be big enough to ride up front and now to be passengers as they drove. We drove and I searched. I honestly didn't know what mountain would call us, but watched and waited. Through the trees it finally jumped out at me. It was peaked to a point at top and the walk seemed fairly easy and open without trees blocking the view. Pointing it out, we all agreed and the adventure began.

Dark skies loomed in every direction with the threat of a storm lurking ominously in the air. Questioning looks flew between my three boys as we began to hike up to one of the highest peaks just as lightning zig-zagged in the black clouds to the north. Inherently I knew we would be fine.

Leaving the CanAm, we had a significant drop into a wooded ravine before we started up the other side. Aspen trees, scrub oak, grass, sagebrush and other plants painted the landscape of the ravine making it tricky to find good footing. Our little Ally dog was thrilled hopping downed logs and making her way through an environment that had to be hundreds of times more difficult with her short little Shi Tzu legs. Chattering, we neared the botttom of the ravine, and heard a familiar crash. Instantly quiet, we listened as we heard branches breaking and the rush of an animal running through the trees. We had jumped something, maybe a deer or elk, but with the thick trees it was gone before we could know what it was. A small stream tumbled through the bottom, making the area perfect for hiding. It provided everything an animal needed, food, water and a safe, hidden area. It was secure, even just 100's of feet below the road. How many times had we driven right by this ravine with animals hidden securely in the bottom?

Beginning the ascent we paused often to look around, watching clouds roll across the hills, storms to form and the sun to peek out. Wildflowers in red, orange, purple, yellow and white were a brilliant contrast to the blue-green sage and the brilliant green of the mountain grass. Quartz dotted the hillside, shimmering with the brilliance of white diamonds. Birds chattered in the trees  while the wind danced around us, keeping the mosquitoes at bay. The sky continued a fluid transformation from white clouds to blue sky to black storm clouds and back again.

It was a quiet thrill to see tracks from different animals without a single human track. We paused often, as we got closer to the rocky peak, to take pictures and absorb the surrounding beauty. The incline was steeper just before the top, so we paused often to give little Ally breaks. Pausing one last time, with 20 feet to go, we turned and caught an antelope just below us. He had seen us, but wasn't overly scared, trotting by on his way to the next knoll. Antelope out number people in Wyoming, so we see them by the hundreds, daily, feeding alongside roads and in fields. It was still an incredible gift to be sharing his space so closely.  Smiling at each other we started to walk again when my oldest motioned us to stop. Another antelope came skirting around just below us. We watched the doe bound off toward the same knoll and started back up.

Reaching the top, we looked around in awe, 360 degrees of unhindered beauty. To the north wind generators lined a ridge like tiny soldiers. Mountains covered the other three directions with valleys, fields and rolling hills blending, shifting and shaping to form patterns not discernable from the road. The wind was whipping around like a two year old toddler, pulling at clothes and hair, yanking trees and moving clouds. It wasn't terribly cold and kept the mosquitoes away so we were patient and welcomed the wind. The views were indescribable and could never be experienced by simply going through the motions.

I gazed and absorbed every moment. Happily snapping pictures, I knew as monumental as this felt, in time my memory would fade as would the beauty and exhilaration of the moment. Years from now, these frozen images would spark a mental journey, reminding me of the decision to climb a mountain.

In no hurry to leave, we looked around, pointing out pretty views and shifting clouds.  Glancing again to the north I saw two elk appear just over the top of a lower hill. The wind was cooperating, so our scent wouldn't reach them as they meandered toward us. With no schedule to adhere to, we chose to sit between the rocks and sagebrush watching to see how close the elk would get. They meandered, stopping occassionally to feed on the lush grass. Once in a while they would glance over at the antelope still lingering close by.  Clouds drifted, sunlight snuck through, wind pushed at the wildflowers and grass making them bob and sway, the smell of sage tickled our senses, animals moved around us and our hearts were grateful.

Sitting quietly I heard my oldest whispering urgently to me. Turning, he and my husband were motioning for me to get up. Moving quickly and quietly, to where they were, I heard a soft bleat over the wind. To the south, lower on the point, a tiny antelope fawn was creeping between rocks, looking for it's mom. Dropping the few inches to the ground it nestled down near some sagebrush and effectively disappeared. This explained the antelope doe staying close. Reveling in the joy of seeing something so sweet, I crept back to watch the elk.

Moments later the boys were again whispering to me. Sneaking back, they pointed to the ravine on the east side. Ponds twinkled in the afternoon sun between pines, aspens and scrub oak. My eyes searched and finally caught what they were pointing out. Grazing slowly by the ponds was a moose. The elk were moving slowly below us to the west, getting ready to bed down, and the doe antelope waited patiently nearby to be re-united with here little one.  Marveling in the experience, we decided it was time to head back down and let the animals have their mountain back.

Driving back to the campsite I reflected on what we had seen. Had we simply stayed on the road, going through the motions and viewing everything through the window we would have missed all of those incredible moments.

The memory made me smile even as my muscles were feeling the pace in the final few miles. Clouds drifted in and out, spitting rain on me periodically. The strawberry moon peaked through a few times and I smiled, thankful for the moments. Racing down the last hill and into the final stretch, I finished and turned off my watch. Lungs laboring, hands on my hips, and my music off, I looked around absorbing the moment.

I would no longer be comfortable going through the motions, living life through the window and coasting on cruise control. I vowed, to the strawberry moon and myself, I would be present in the moment and always choose to climb the mountain.

The fall

I didn't run today. For those that know me, this could very well be a sign of the apocolypse. I always run; wind, rain, snow, negative temperatures, heat and injury. Nothing stops me from lacing up and running my town. Today was different.

The weather was bad with 24+ mph winds, snow and treacherous ice covering every single street and sidwalk. It wasn't the weather, though, that kept me from my morning ritual. I have shoes to combat the ice and appropriate clothes to run in the "spring" Wyoming elements. Pain kept me from my run.

About a month ago I set out for a regular 8.25 mile run. My soul was craving the solitude and I was excited to hit the streets on a day that wasn't windy, icy, snowing or overly cold. Anxious for a run in the balmy 37 degree morning, I dressed quickly in non-winter gear, threw my contacts in and laced up. Blinking quickly I realized my contacts were fuzzy, but being giddy about the weather prompted me to run without fixing them. It was 3:00 in the morning, almost everyone was asleep and although the sidewalks and streets were uneven and riddled with uplifts and potholes I had run the route hundreds of times and knew the danger zone like the back of my hand.

The morning was glorious; pockets of warm air nuzzled me, stars smiled and twinkled in the dark sky and my splits were fabulous. My foggy contacts had been a non-issue as I began the trek uphill into the danger zone. I slowed my pace slightly to accomodate 12 blocks of horrible sidewalks. Navigating the familiar terrain, I smiled when the blinking stoplight that marked the end of the danger zone was less than 20 feet away. Quietly congratulating myself on a successful foggy run, my foot caught a new uplift in the sidewalk. Caught in the euporia of thinking I'd made it caused me to react slowly. I fell. My slow response meant my knees took the full brunt of the fall. Crouching I took a minute to catch my breath and share some colorful phrases with the furry bunnies that watched from under the bushes. Getting up slowly I gingerly took a few steps and added a few more phrases to the bunny rabbits' vocabulary. I've fallen many times before, but this hurt like a son of a basket weaver. Hobbling across the intersection I glared at the blinking red and yellow of the stoplight. Walking slowly I tried valiantly to shake out my knees. I had a smidge over a 5K left so I gritted my teeth and finished.

Getting home I limped through my cool down walk and attempted some static stretches; nope, those weren't happening. Stripping down to get a look, I shook my head. My left knee was beautiful, swelled up to the size of a grapefruit, slightly colored on the sides and my right knee had two golf ball sized lumps at the top and bottom. There were really no scrapes, meaning my knees absorbed the full force and power of the fall. They hurt, something I hate admitting, but I'm a runner, stubborn and I can handle pain. The rest of the day was spent at a track meet cheering on my youngest, so I put on a happy face, scaled bleachers, walked corners and only threatened to throat punch my husband once when he accidently grabbed my left knee. 

The next day I realized I had a 30 day running streak on the line. Lacing up for a short 4.5 mile trial, my knees still swollen and hurting, I justified if I could finish the run, nothing serious was wrong. The sun was sliding down the western sky, warming the air and the birds singing brightly when I set out. Pushing the pain aside, I tried to focus on the beauty of an afternoon run, only stopping periodically to shake out my knees. Finishing, even slowly, was solid proof the knees were simply banged up. I would push through, having a strong history of running on banged up knees as well as sprained ankles, a broken ankle and a broken foot.

The runs continued, maintaining my streak, with swelling finally going down after a couple weeks. The bruising still paints my knees and the craziest lumps have become a semi-permanent feature. Each run brought additional pain and I found myself mixing my training around to avoid hills . As I set each week I would optimistically plan for a 14.5 mile run, knowing full well it wasn't happening. As stubborn as I am, I knew my knees could not withstand a long run. Every mile I would push back the pain, focusing on the fact that I was at least running. Some runs were better than others, but they all hurt to some extent. I found myself missing the beauty of the morning as I tried to manage pain. Setting out for the last couple runs I was optimistic, clinging to the good moments like a drowning man to a floating log. I accepted the slower, but consistent splits for the first 4 to 5 miles. Pain was constant, but manageable, until it wasn't. Near tears, I was forced to stop and walk with 3 miles remaining. Taking deep breaths and gently rubbing my knees I attempted to pick the pace back up only to be forced back to a limp. It was demoralizing and more than a little scarey. It hurts to walk, it hurts to have something touch my knee and it is difficult to get comfortable, none of which are good indicators of healing.

The simple and logical answer is to schedule an appointment with a doctor. Unfortunately my mind clouds simple and logical. I rarely go to the doctor unless it is serious; pnemonia, tumors, broken bones. The financial obligation weighs heavily, especially as I navigate trying to balance other obligations, but the greatest deterrant to the logical answer is the potential outcomes. By breaking down and going in, I open the door to possible diagnoses that I don't want to deal with, the greatest being the inability to run for a length of time.

Fear rides through my soul when I think about being unable to run. Running feeds my soul, while the morning grounds me and gives me solace. It is time to myself filled with music, nature, prayer and hope. When my alarm goes off, my heart leaps for the one thing that is solely mine. There are no expectations other than those that are self-imposed. and I am able to freely be just me. When I run, time stands still, giving me golden moments where I don't have to worry about someone else's schedule, what I need to plan for work, meals, what bills need paid, what the week looks like for the family, who's birthday is coming up and what volunteer activity I need to organize. Running is all about me, my thoughts, a dark, quiet, peaceful town and the rhythm of music, breathing and footsteps. I have faithfully braved the winter runs, bundled in pounds of winter running gear, sporting frosted eyelashes, cold fingers and wind-bitten cheeks to be more appreciative of the coming warm runs. As Mother Nature slowly shifts the seasons I dream of warm, unencumbered runs in shorts, a top and a ponytail. The sound of birds waking up and the sweet smell of grass, flowers and summer rain. As I sit here, my heart aches at the potential of missing those runs.

Watching the snow drift by my window I battle between logic and fear, weighing the potential impact of both decisions long and short term. An ache permeates up from my knees and a sharp pain shoots up the side. I balance the impact of doing further injury and potentially never running again against buckling down, facing the fear and simply being out for a shorter period of time. Clearly there is a logical choice shining above the illogical fear and stubborness. Biting through emotion I made the call and scheduled an appointment. Worry hounds my thoughts, and my emotions are dangerously close to the surface. I often tell people not to worry, and usually have faith that things will work out, but this time I tossed my own advice out the window. Tomorrow I face the repercussions from the fall, and pray that my age has simply reduced my pain tolerance.

Whistfully watching clouds drift in the grey sky, and listening to birds practice for the summer I feel a tear glide down my cheek. How I yearned to be lacing up and hitting the streets before "the fall."