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Monday, December 13, 2010
Run Baby Run
For as long as I can remember, I have run. I used to hate running, and viewed at as a punishment by my basketball coach who loved to make us run around the high school at 2:30 p.m. in the afternoon in the off season. My senior year, I stopped playing basketball and started running as a way to not blow up to 200 lbs. In college, I did manage to gain the freshman 15, and viewed my running as merely attempts to gain the attention of boys living in the corps dorms. When I moved off-campus, I ran around the College Station neighborhoods with my roommates Kimber, Dana, and Brandi from time to time, again trying to keep myself from gaining another 15 lbs since the first 15 decided they were gonna stick around.
When I moved back to the Valley about 6 years ago, I found a running buddy in someone I would never have imagined. Tracy and I weren't friends in high school, but our mutual desire to run quickly bonded us and we became really great friends. Tracy convinced me to run the Port Isabel Causeway run, which was 6 miles, further than I had ever run before. It wasn't pretty, but I finished it. I soon found myself interested in upping my mileage and running more races.
I've run 2 half-marathons, 2 10k's, 1 7500 meter run, and a handful of 5k's. All of these races help keep me in shape and destress myself after a long day at school. I just finished doing the McAllen Fiesta Marathon relay with some friends, and it was really fun. We drove all over McAllen picking up and dropping off our team, and I ran the anchor leg of 6 miles. It felt great to finish, and even better to have run with such a great group of women.
So, what's next? The Causeway Run in January of 2011 and the Austin Half-Marathon in February. Wish me luck!
When I moved back to the Valley about 6 years ago, I found a running buddy in someone I would never have imagined. Tracy and I weren't friends in high school, but our mutual desire to run quickly bonded us and we became really great friends. Tracy convinced me to run the Port Isabel Causeway run, which was 6 miles, further than I had ever run before. It wasn't pretty, but I finished it. I soon found myself interested in upping my mileage and running more races.
I've run 2 half-marathons, 2 10k's, 1 7500 meter run, and a handful of 5k's. All of these races help keep me in shape and destress myself after a long day at school. I just finished doing the McAllen Fiesta Marathon relay with some friends, and it was really fun. We drove all over McAllen picking up and dropping off our team, and I ran the anchor leg of 6 miles. It felt great to finish, and even better to have run with such a great group of women.
So, what's next? The Causeway Run in January of 2011 and the Austin Half-Marathon in February. Wish me luck!
Monday, December 6, 2010
Endurance
Endurance. Webster's Dictionary defines endurance as "the fact or power of enduring or bearing pain, hardships, etc." Or you could choose definition #2, "the ability or strength to continue or last, esp. despite fatigue, stress, or other adverse conditions; stamina." I feel like this one word sums up my life in so many ways. I often ask myself why is that so many hardships and unfortunate events seem to befall on some people and never on others. Although it seems unfair for me to say adverse events never happen to others, perhaps they simply choose not to talk about them.
Wednesday would be my sister's 39th birthday. I miss her more and more everyday. Not only did I lose my sister, I lost my best friend. You can only call and complain to a friend so many times before you start to become a drag, after all who wants to hear about your problems day in and day out? Even when my sister was going through chemo, she would listen as I rehashed what would be the 50 millionth argument between our mom and myself. Who else could understand the anger and frustration I live with daily because my son has autism? So I endure. I endure the pain of losing her, losing my confidante, losing the one person who truly loves me for who I am, faults and all.
Endurance. I work with 80 17-18 year old kids everyday. Some of the laziest, most miserable excuses for children I have ever encountered, and each day I endure their complaints and inability to get their work done because I have to. Afterall, I need a paycheck in order to pay my bills and sometimes mama needs a new pair of shoes. Don't get me wrong. They are not all bad, some are really awesome. Too bad I can't clone the 15 or so students I really like...that would certainly make my job a lot more fun.
Endurance. My son has autism. I hate autism. There is no cure and no explanation to why kids have it or what therapy works best for each case. My son's therapy will cost over $1400.00 a month, and that's money I just don't have, even with decent insurance. Sure, we are lucky because we have help in the form of my parents, but that is such an unfair burden to place on them. The toll he takes on Chris and I is significant. Each weekend day is filled with stress due to the tantrums we both know are coming no matter how hard we try to please him. The weekly meetings, the surveys, the therapists, the school reports...It takes endurance to simply keep plugging away and filling out forms. It seems unending, and my rope is beginning to unravel.
Why is it that it takes so much damn endurance to get from one day to the next? When does it stop? When does life slow down enough to take a deep breathe and relax? I guess I am forced to maintain my endurance, because what options do I have? I love my children, I need my job, and my longing to have my sister back will never go away. I may not ever win the title of World's Greatest Mother or Teacher of the Year, but I have endurance, and that counts for something.
Wednesday would be my sister's 39th birthday. I miss her more and more everyday. Not only did I lose my sister, I lost my best friend. You can only call and complain to a friend so many times before you start to become a drag, after all who wants to hear about your problems day in and day out? Even when my sister was going through chemo, she would listen as I rehashed what would be the 50 millionth argument between our mom and myself. Who else could understand the anger and frustration I live with daily because my son has autism? So I endure. I endure the pain of losing her, losing my confidante, losing the one person who truly loves me for who I am, faults and all.
Endurance. I work with 80 17-18 year old kids everyday. Some of the laziest, most miserable excuses for children I have ever encountered, and each day I endure their complaints and inability to get their work done because I have to. Afterall, I need a paycheck in order to pay my bills and sometimes mama needs a new pair of shoes. Don't get me wrong. They are not all bad, some are really awesome. Too bad I can't clone the 15 or so students I really like...that would certainly make my job a lot more fun.
Endurance. My son has autism. I hate autism. There is no cure and no explanation to why kids have it or what therapy works best for each case. My son's therapy will cost over $1400.00 a month, and that's money I just don't have, even with decent insurance. Sure, we are lucky because we have help in the form of my parents, but that is such an unfair burden to place on them. The toll he takes on Chris and I is significant. Each weekend day is filled with stress due to the tantrums we both know are coming no matter how hard we try to please him. The weekly meetings, the surveys, the therapists, the school reports...It takes endurance to simply keep plugging away and filling out forms. It seems unending, and my rope is beginning to unravel.
Why is it that it takes so much damn endurance to get from one day to the next? When does it stop? When does life slow down enough to take a deep breathe and relax? I guess I am forced to maintain my endurance, because what options do I have? I love my children, I need my job, and my longing to have my sister back will never go away. I may not ever win the title of World's Greatest Mother or Teacher of the Year, but I have endurance, and that counts for something.
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