Off to do the impossible

I signed myself up to run the Boilermaker in Utica on Sunday. It is a 15K race (that's 9.3 miles for the metric-challenged in the house.) You'll notice that it's uphill for the first 4 miles, then downhill for 2, up again for another 1.25. The remainder will be cake if I'm still upright. I didn't look at this elevation map before I signed up. If I did, I might have thought twice about it. Although, thinking twice probably wouldn't have stopped me. You see, I've become all about accomplishing what I believe is impossible and gaining control. Well, truth be told, I've always been about being in control, but it's gone off the deep end with running lately.

I saw my job as an older sister to be a bit like a police officer - I was there to serve and protect. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't do it. I couldn't do the impossible. I couldn't make him better. I couldn't find his cure. I couldn't protect him. That REALLY bothers me. It also makes me realize that no matter how hard I try, I also can't protect my kids, or his kids, or Mark, or my parents, or anyone else I care about. So in my mixed up, control-freak mind, I'm controlling myself - attempting to accomplish physical feats that I would normally consider impossible. Seriously? Run UPHILL for 4 miles and then continue on running for another 5? Run 13.1 miles? Run 26.2 miles? Get real! I get winded carrying the laundry basket up the stairs. But I'm damn sure gonna control SOMETHING and so this my friends is it. So off I go to Utica tomorrow. On Sunday morning at 8am, I'll start up that 4 mile hill, wearing my "Remembering Jim" shirt, trying to convince myself that I'm in control and the impossible can happen.

Still wears you down

Today would've been Jim and Kate's 14th wedding anniversary. I remember it because we got married the same year. It was one heck of a great summer that year. Jaker's 3rd birthday was on the 5th. The "wrongness" of Jim not being here for it, started me in this funk. A whole pan of brownies funk. Yes, it was emotional eating. Every time I took one of those brownies out of the pan, I knew that I was eating because I was sad Jim wasn't here to see Jake turn 3. My funk has lasted right up to today. I'm sad Jim's not here to celebrate his marriage and family with Kate. The brownies are gone, but I will be raising a glass to Jim and Kate tonight, and wiping away the tears. It seems we've all lost someone special, so tonight, join me in raising a glass to remember the one you love. If you're lucky enough to have not lost, raise a glass for my brother and count your blessings.

Death came to my house

Death arrived at my house. He was uninvited, but he barged in the door anyway, just like he did almost two years ago. Like last time, he took away someone who didn't want to go; someone we didn't want to go. His actions forced me to quickly hide within myself, shutting off to keep the emotions from draining every ounce of energy and spirit I've built back up over the past 20 months. Crawling inside myself hasn't helped much - I'm still tired, suffering from the feeling of a hamster running a wheel.

Mark's mom was a wonderful lady. Maybe you can relate to the "what to call the in-laws?" dilemma...Mrs. Kling, Mary, Mom? It was worse for me because I didn't marry her son until three years after Kirsten was born. Mark and I bought a house in March of 1992 and Kirsten was born that June. I vividly remember the first card she sent me after that - it was for my birthday. She signed it "Love, Mom." I cried. For the next 17 years, she was always there for us. We followed each of his sisters by living with her for a time. She opened up her house to us for 6 months while we built our current house. Pretty darn generous to let her son, his wife, and two little kids invade the solitude she'd had for a lot of years. The list of advice and help she's given us matches the length of Santa's "Nice" list.

One Christmas a couple years back, she let me take one of her photo albums and scan the photos for Mark and each of his sisters. I put several of the photos in a collage frame for them as their gift. She was terribly nervous about letting me take it. When I returned the album (pictures EXACTLY as I received them), I had the gifts for Sue and Jo Anne with me to show her. She loved the gifts and was really glad she went against her better judgment and let me take the photos! I'm a big one on memories and am so glad we all have these photos.

Mary and Bill on their wedding day.

I know I can't stay within my cocoon forever. It won't keep me from noticing she's not here anymore; it won't stop the tears from flowing missing her.