Running for Joy... Running to Remember...

On Thursday, I put forth my memories of the tragedy that was this day ten years ago.

Today, I celebrated life in remembrance of those who lost theirs. I do believe most of them would want that. I know I would want that.

When I go, sure, be sad for a bit. But then remember my zest for life and honor me by emulating that. I am no stranger to loss and hardship. Every day is fraught with challenges – big and small. I honor my loved ones and all manner of heroes who've passed away by taking on these challenges... by diving into every moment of being alive, by wringing every ounce of "experience" and every drop of joy that I can from this unwieldy and unpredictable thing that is LIFE.

Before we were married, my husband once asked me, "What is the basis of your spiritual foundation?" I got really pissy. I didn't understand the question... and I didn't enjoy neither the tone nor the context in which the question was asked. He and I were in the middle of a run, and it was merely his idea of light and lively conversation to pass the time. Whatever happened to the Kevin Bacon Game?

What he wanted to know was:  When things are hard... unfathomably hard, when I am experiencing deep pain... physical or emotional, when the s*** hits the fan, when the going gets tough... how do I make it through? What do I look to? How do I find peace? How do I find the reassurance that things will be okay?

I told him I didn't know. I just do. Somehow... somewhere within... I just know. And trust.

Things might really hurt or be really hard for awhile... but things will be okay. They will.

I look up and I see this...

a glorious Maxfield Parrish sky

and this...

the iconic engineering masterpiece that is the Golden Gate Bridge

I look down and I see this...

the exhaustion of a little boy who spent the day playing so hard and so joyously

that he fell asleep on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table

and this....

the limitless curiosity of a two-year old that mandates taking out all the puzzles 

and dumping out all the pieces without wanting to put them together

I look out and I see this...

the delight of a swing

and this....

the joy of making new friends!

And I ask "How can things not turn out okay?" and I am reminded of the expression that goes something like...

"Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay... it's not the end."

Compared to the losses of 10 years ago, it's trivial, but I didn't run or do any sort of physical activity more strenuous than grocery shopping for 8 long years. Because I couldn't. Most days the pain was incredible and nearly unbearable... and it was always there. I limped. I hobbled. I cried. But I knew it wasn't the end. Things weren't okay yet.

August 31st marked one year since my return to running. Today I ran to remember. The plan was 11 miles to remember 9/11. I was alone when I hit the 10-mile mark after running with my new friends for the first 9. When I looked in as I began that eleventh mile, I was completely overcome with joy... the joy of being able to run... the joy of being alive... the joy that things are starting to be okay. I didn't stop at 11... I held that feeling for an extra mile.

Not everything is okay... and that's cool.

I don't want it to be the end yet :)

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All the things this blog's been missing...

...are back.

Up until about six weeks ago, we had a couple of regulars going on here at Taking It On. They gave things a little structure... or something. In any event, once my husband left me, they kind of went by the wayside. And after that... well... then I had the big thing that I am trying not to mention for the rest of the week because I have been told I need to let go. (what I want to know is... how do you "let go" of one of the coolest, funnest, most amazing things of your life? anyone?)

So today we are returning to routine... we are grabbing those three regulars and wallowing in the 80's... Doing it up BIG time... you can tell by the beer and the big hair...

...shrouded in mystery...

Granny's Gadget #29 (it's been so long, I had to research which number we were on and it wasn't easy!)

I used one of these a LOT in the 80's.

I don't think twist-tops existed back then.

Does anyone remember?

Vecchio Venerdi

I didn't spend a ton of time this slack-jawed, but I did frequently have a beer in my hand.

Note the Farrah hair... classic early 1980's.

Musique

And I might need to apologize... but I had to put this on here.
Such a classic 1980's music video... the tight jeans and the butt shaking...
and what the heck is that weird pearl necklace, one-sided epaulet thing?

Who remembers the 80's? Anyone else old enough? 

What is your favorite memory from way back then?

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Additionally, I need to give a huge shout out to The Blonde Ponytail and Tall Mom on the Run... two of my Team Nuun mates... Jess and I both served in Nuun Platuun and Mel and I were roomies the night before the main event... that I am on hiatus from mentioning. Jess isn't going for a specific time as this is her first 10K, but she has sworn to achieve swagina.

These two awesome women are running in the Athleta IronGirl 5K/10K this weekend in Seattle! Go, friends! Go! I am so envious... I'll bet they'll even get a chance to meet up with some of the awesome Nuun people.

Anyone else racing this weekend? I am not... I will be running a memorial 11 on 9/11/11 with some other friends... Cupcake and Co.

I hope this weekend is beautifully memorable for everyone :)

Caught in between...

That Tuesday.

It was a beautiful day.

Big G had just turned 2 the week before, and it was my dad's (for whom my son is named) birthday. He would have been 60. I felt a fleeting sadness that he wasn't here to see my son... that he had not met my husband... that he never had the chance to see me feeling truly solid about my life. And I wished I could call him and wish him a very happy birthday. I lingered on this for a moment or two and then moved on to matters at hand.

As I readied my 2-year old for his first "full" half-day at preschool, I had a lot on my mind. In addition to the bittersweet feelings of my 'baby' heading off to school ... even if just for 4 hours twice a week... and my dad, I was thinking about a dear friend who was in labor, birthing her first child, and our family trip to Maine.

It appeared as if my friend would be delivering on her due date... my dad's birthday. I had told her for months what a special guy my dad was and how auspicious it was that her son was due on that day. I had told her how I had wished Big G had that same birthday because not only my dad but his twin sister were so cool and nice and awesome that it must have something to do with the day :) It was nice for me to be able to balance out the feelings of loss with the great joy of birth.

The prospect of traveling also brought me great joy. I was growing increasingly excited about our trip to Portland, Maine the following day. As Big G was going to be in school for a few hours on this day, I would have time to quickly pack and make our preparations.

As I was loading my big boy into his car seat, our neighbor came out to the street. Something was wrong, I could tell by the shell-shocked expression on his face.

"Did you hear? Did you see?..." his voice trailed off.

"What's wrong? Is everything okay?" I asked.

"No, no," he said. "The planes just crashed... they just crashed into the World Trade Center... and the Pentagon...it's on t.v.... oh, right... you guys don't have t.v.... you have to come see or you won't believe it... I don't believe it..."

And we followed him into his house and watched. Stunned. It must be fake. How could someone do that? How could that happen? I truly thought it was some weird, twisted stunt. And I had to get my kid to school and check in with my friend and get ready for my trip to Portland, Maine...

Interesting how we often start grasping at minutia when faced with monumental tragedies our brains struggle to comprehend.

I was in total denial.

I took my son to school, and I went that whole day thinking I needed to get ready for our trip to Portland, Maine the following day. If it was real, I said to myself, this would be the safest time to fly because they wouldn't do that two days in a row. Good Lord. Delusion and denial. Brain operations shut down. 

It took about a week before the reality finally hit me. A week. And no trip to Maine.

As the official reports and the footage and the personal stories poured out, I read and watched and listened. My husband drove around for at least a month, gathering every different newspaper to read all the write-ups, hoping to make sense of it. But there was and is no sense to be made.

It was senseless.

Every year since then I work to not dwell on the tragedy. I remember and and honor and reflect upon those who lost their lives or love ones and those whose lives were damaged by the horrific events that took place on September 11, 2001. And I celebrate the birthday of my friend's son and my aunt and revel in the joy that is life.

This year on September 11, I will give thanks that I am here, that I am alive, that I am whole. I will be grateful that my loved ones are close to me, whether physically or spiritually. I will remember and honor and reflect upon what transpired 10 years ago... and I will run. 

I have joined the dailymile.com event... Run 11 miles on 9/11/11. 

"10 years later, we remember like it was 10 hours ago."

Where were you then? And where will you be now?

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linking this post up with MamaKat's Writing Workshop.