Today is a big day in Disney history. If you haven't heard the news already, Disneyland celebrates 60 years of making magic for all who enter the gates.
I love Disneyland. In fact, I love it so much that I have been working there for almost 3 years. It is not everyone that can say they enjoy their job and look forward to going everyday, but I count myself as one of the blessed ones that expresses that I love my job. I remember going to the interview 3 years ago and saying to the recruiter, "There are many reasons that Disneyland means so much to my family and me, deep-rooted reasons that would take way too much time to express, but the happy memories..."
The boys and I had annual passes for years, and we loved coming into the park for a few hours to go on a few rides, eat a burger and play video games at the Starcade (ok, they played, I shopped). And I have said this several times to cast members, especially those in leadership roles. I don't share those memories because they're long stories, and bring tears to my eyes and well...that would just be awkward (not like I get teary-eyed enough!) So, I'll share a pivotal memory here with you.
It was a sunny day and the boys (then 10 and 13) and I were enjoying the day at Disneyland (of course). At the time, the boys and I had lived with my folks for more than a year and going to Disneyland was a great opportunity for us to spend time together as a little family. On this occasion, we decided to take a ride on the train to the other side of the park, and of course, their conversation turned to their dad. The week before this trip, I made one of the most difficult decisions I have ever made--to divorce their dad, and I hadn't told them yet.
Mind you, I had not at all planned to tell them while we were having a happy time, but the opportunity just presented itself. I don't even remember who mentioned it first--something about being married and I just very carefully, with as much love and care that I could muster while on the train...at Disneyland... told them that I was getting a divorce.
Needless to say our train ride lasted a little longer than planned, but we talked. They asked questions, they were not surprised, but sad. I reassured them that I was not leaving them (that's what they were worried about) and that we needed to keep praying for their dad. Then we got off the training, and held hands as we entered Pirates of the Caribbean.
This memory became the catalyst for many memories with my boys. From then on, we took many train rides, or walked through 45-minute wait lines because it gave us a chance to talk about stuff. We talked about school, puberty, living with grandma and papa, and eventually we even talked about my decision to start dating again. Disneyland gave us a place that was neutral, safe and comforting to help us deal with many of life's ups and downs. And even just to spend time together as a family.
The boys gave up their annual passes when Nathaniel finished high school. Ethan was beginning high school and the teenage boys were just too cool to go to Disneyland with mom, but we did go on one visit right before their passes expired. Sure enough, the boys suggested we take a train ride, just to relax and chat. And we did. All the way around the park. I don't even remember what we talked about, but I know we laughed and enjoyed each other's company. Now, more than anything, I am grateful that those train rides are memories that I can cherish for the rest of my life.
Friday, July 17, 2015
Friday, July 3, 2015
Big Five-Oh!
I have been in denial for almost an entire year. How could I be 50 this year? How?
No, I couldn't admit it. Never. I will never be 50. Never.
How about I just start lying about my age? I'll just tell everyone I'm 39, like my grandma did. Hey, it worked for her, I think. I had a conversation with my grandma right before I turned 40. She reminded me that I was happier at 40 than I was at 30. That got me thinking...
What if I embrace this whole turning 50 thing? What's different now than, say, 10 years ago?
Well, let's see: Smile lines, crow's feet, a touch of arthritis in my wrists and ankles. That's the details, the little pictures.
But the big picture: I weigh 20 pounds less than I did 10 years ago. My running and workouts help my arthritis. And I may have a few small wrinkles but I still get pimples.
The thing is, I looked better and was happier at 40 than at 30. The other day, I found a photo of me at the age of 40 and you know what? I look better now and I am way healthier and happier than when I was 40.
I'm showing off. I know. But hey-this is my blog and that's the point--to give me an opportunity to be narcissistic and show off.
Look, I'm not looking for a pat on the back-truly. I am a work in progress. I still have 20 pounds to lose before I am at a healthy weight and this 20 pounds has kicked my butt! I've been trying to lose this last 20 pounds for over 6 months and it all just won't go.
My point is that I just need to keep going. Keep working at it. And keep living.
The cool thing is that it looks like I got the "young genes" from my mom. When I was in college no one would believe she was my mom-she looks too young! She still has a youthful look about her. And I've already had a few people say, "You're gonna be 50?" NO WAY!"
So, here's to embracing the Big Five-Oh!
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
Being a father
Has it really been 4 years since dad passed away? It's hard to believe that so much time has gone by. Sure, the grieving and missing him gets easier with time, but when I look back, it just doesn't seem like it has been 4 years. Then I think about it, and I have a moment where I really miss dad. So, on the anniversary of his going home to spend eternity singing praises to Jesus, I'm writing about him.
You know, all four of us kids would agree that dad was a great dad. But we weren't the only ones who thought this. Throughout his life and ministries, he made an impact on many lives--young and old. His lasting impact was that of a Godly man and a wonderful father figure to many.
It's something I learned from him: how to be a father. You see, the boys and I moved in with my folks almost 15 years ago. I will always be grateful for the help I received from both of my parents in raising my boys, but the role my dad played in my boys' lives will always be cherished. He (along with my brother Joel) was the first man to teach my boys that they need to respect me because not only was I their mom, but I was his daughter and deserved honor and respect.
Then I had the humbling experience of having my dad teach me that I had to be their father. At one point dad and I argued about how to handle a discipline issue with Nathaniel. Dad pretty much got in my face and told me if I didn't get tough and stand up to Nathaniel, that he would. I didn't want to be tougher than nails and fight with my son. I wanted to just make it better, but I also didn't want my dad showing me up--dad's threat really pissed me off. I was gonna show him and be tough. I realized that there were times I would have to set the rules and stand firm, on my own, in the dual role of mother and father--I couldn't let anyone take that from me, not even my dad. There were many times that I took my dad's cue in dealing with my boys, and ask my dad to back me up. It was worth it.
Now, don't get me wrong. I know how blessed I was to have my dad around. I had support in a way that most single parents don't have, and those single parents don't have someone to fall back on in helping them play that dual role. I also know that both moms and dads can be tough, but it helps if someone's got your back. My heart aches for those parents who are doing it alone. And I know how it feels to do the parenting thing alone even when the other parent is there.
But thanks to my dad, I learned how to be a father. Thanks to the role he played in my sons' lives, and even my daughter's, their lives will be forever impacted. So will mine.
You know, all four of us kids would agree that dad was a great dad. But we weren't the only ones who thought this. Throughout his life and ministries, he made an impact on many lives--young and old. His lasting impact was that of a Godly man and a wonderful father figure to many.
It's something I learned from him: how to be a father. You see, the boys and I moved in with my folks almost 15 years ago. I will always be grateful for the help I received from both of my parents in raising my boys, but the role my dad played in my boys' lives will always be cherished. He (along with my brother Joel) was the first man to teach my boys that they need to respect me because not only was I their mom, but I was his daughter and deserved honor and respect.
Then I had the humbling experience of having my dad teach me that I had to be their father. At one point dad and I argued about how to handle a discipline issue with Nathaniel. Dad pretty much got in my face and told me if I didn't get tough and stand up to Nathaniel, that he would. I didn't want to be tougher than nails and fight with my son. I wanted to just make it better, but I also didn't want my dad showing me up--dad's threat really pissed me off. I was gonna show him and be tough. I realized that there were times I would have to set the rules and stand firm, on my own, in the dual role of mother and father--I couldn't let anyone take that from me, not even my dad. There were many times that I took my dad's cue in dealing with my boys, and ask my dad to back me up. It was worth it.
Now, don't get me wrong. I know how blessed I was to have my dad around. I had support in a way that most single parents don't have, and those single parents don't have someone to fall back on in helping them play that dual role. I also know that both moms and dads can be tough, but it helps if someone's got your back. My heart aches for those parents who are doing it alone. And I know how it feels to do the parenting thing alone even when the other parent is there.
But thanks to my dad, I learned how to be a father. Thanks to the role he played in my sons' lives, and even my daughter's, their lives will be forever impacted. So will mine.
Friday, June 19, 2015
You gotta take what you can get!
A friend of mine said this to me in a conversation about men. It has been a point of contention between us for a long time.
Take what you can get, or settle for something--anything--because it is better than nothing, and happiness just is not a factor. And be happy with it, even if it means less than true happiness.
Believe me, I understand this concept completely. I am an adult and, thanks to the life experiences we all have, I know that feeling of just accepting what I can get and trying to be happy with it.
But don't I deserve to be truly happy? Don't we all? Some of us, rather, most of us don't believe we deserve to be happy. And you know what? We are absolutely correct--we don't deserve to be truly happy.
Think about it--we humans are horrible! We value power, greed and self-fulfillment. We hurt each other, pervert each other, and are willing to kill each other to promote our own agendas.
Yes, I know I am over-generalizing here. I know that there are inherent good people out there and I consider myself a good person: I love Jesus and pray and want to do the right thing. However, I am human and I have sinned, and I have harbored ill-will in my heart. There is no way that I deserve to be happy.
Here's the thing though: I still want it. I don't want to take what I can get.
And guess what: My heavenly father--I think He wants me to be happy. How do I know? Oh, I'm sure there's a bible verse--or 2 or 3--that shows this, but think about it from a parental stand point: I raised 3 kids and there were times when I was so frustrated as a parent that I didn't even feel that my children deserved to be on this planet! But I love my kids, I cherish them, and as much as we went through, I want them to be happy with their lives. I want them to pursue their dreams and be happy in whatever lives they choose to have. And my kids--they want me to be happy too.
As much as I don't deserve to be happy, I think God, my heavenly Father, loves me so much that He wants me to be happy. Happy in serving Him, happy in my career choices and pursuing my dreams, and happy in my relationships.
I don't have to take what I can get. I have experienced something wonderful, something that made me happy, something that made me realize my own worth. Because of that, if I just settle, or take what I can get, then I get in God's way of His plan for my life.
And I have been praying about that a lot lately.
Take what you can get, or settle for something--anything--because it is better than nothing, and happiness just is not a factor. And be happy with it, even if it means less than true happiness.
Believe me, I understand this concept completely. I am an adult and, thanks to the life experiences we all have, I know that feeling of just accepting what I can get and trying to be happy with it.
But don't I deserve to be truly happy? Don't we all? Some of us, rather, most of us don't believe we deserve to be happy. And you know what? We are absolutely correct--we don't deserve to be truly happy.
Think about it--we humans are horrible! We value power, greed and self-fulfillment. We hurt each other, pervert each other, and are willing to kill each other to promote our own agendas.
Yes, I know I am over-generalizing here. I know that there are inherent good people out there and I consider myself a good person: I love Jesus and pray and want to do the right thing. However, I am human and I have sinned, and I have harbored ill-will in my heart. There is no way that I deserve to be happy.
Here's the thing though: I still want it. I don't want to take what I can get.
And guess what: My heavenly father--I think He wants me to be happy. How do I know? Oh, I'm sure there's a bible verse--or 2 or 3--that shows this, but think about it from a parental stand point: I raised 3 kids and there were times when I was so frustrated as a parent that I didn't even feel that my children deserved to be on this planet! But I love my kids, I cherish them, and as much as we went through, I want them to be happy with their lives. I want them to pursue their dreams and be happy in whatever lives they choose to have. And my kids--they want me to be happy too.
As much as I don't deserve to be happy, I think God, my heavenly Father, loves me so much that He wants me to be happy. Happy in serving Him, happy in my career choices and pursuing my dreams, and happy in my relationships.
I don't have to take what I can get. I have experienced something wonderful, something that made me happy, something that made me realize my own worth. Because of that, if I just settle, or take what I can get, then I get in God's way of His plan for my life.
And I have been praying about that a lot lately.
Thursday, April 30, 2015
Gradschool
I am about to finish a class on Content Area Instruction and Assessment and part of my last assignment is to post an update on my blog.
Geez, has it been that long since I wrote on here? Last year? Well, the only excuse I have is that I have found these past few months of my pursuits of a master's in education and a teaching credential via online education where I take 1 class every 4 weeks absolutely exhausting (notice the long run-on sentence?).
I'm burnt out. Even after taking a 5-week break and actually taking a vacation (which was wonderful) I'm still having a difficult time staying focused. But the reality is I really need to stick with it and finish. In fact, I need to finish well. And I'm not too far from the end.
What have I learned in the current class I'm taking right now? That I still have so much to learn.
I took a pretty hard hit in the second week of this class when I got the grades back for my assignments (well, not that hard, but anything lower than an A is very difficult for me to take). But I had to agree with the feedback I received from my prof. I have no formal teaching experience (aside from teaching preschool 100 years ago and being a bible study teacher) and the lessons I created were, well...unrealistic. Some subjects I had to expect more from students, other subjects I needed to spend more time on and well...there are things I just won't know until I get in the classroom.
I have learned to listen to my profs and heed their advice. So, in the assignments in week 3, I followed the prof's advice and changed gears in my lesson presentations. I still have a lot to learn, but this time, I focused on a few things, rather than cramming tons of stuff in one lesson, and focused on giving students a little more credit as far as what they should know by the time they do the type of lesson I created.
I have learned that there is hope at the end of the Grad School tunnel. Although my prof gave very good feedback on my assignments, it was a little kick in my pants to read it. But he also gave encouraging comments. I have to admit, I am a little concerned about how it will be when I actually get my own class--a little more overwhelming than just visiting someone else's class once in awhile. However, after some life experiences I have had recently--standing up in front of people and just having presence and taking command of the room--I have hope that I have potential.
As long as I am willing to learn.
Geez, has it been that long since I wrote on here? Last year? Well, the only excuse I have is that I have found these past few months of my pursuits of a master's in education and a teaching credential via online education where I take 1 class every 4 weeks absolutely exhausting (notice the long run-on sentence?).
I'm burnt out. Even after taking a 5-week break and actually taking a vacation (which was wonderful) I'm still having a difficult time staying focused. But the reality is I really need to stick with it and finish. In fact, I need to finish well. And I'm not too far from the end.
What have I learned in the current class I'm taking right now? That I still have so much to learn.
I took a pretty hard hit in the second week of this class when I got the grades back for my assignments (well, not that hard, but anything lower than an A is very difficult for me to take). But I had to agree with the feedback I received from my prof. I have no formal teaching experience (aside from teaching preschool 100 years ago and being a bible study teacher) and the lessons I created were, well...unrealistic. Some subjects I had to expect more from students, other subjects I needed to spend more time on and well...there are things I just won't know until I get in the classroom.
I have learned to listen to my profs and heed their advice. So, in the assignments in week 3, I followed the prof's advice and changed gears in my lesson presentations. I still have a lot to learn, but this time, I focused on a few things, rather than cramming tons of stuff in one lesson, and focused on giving students a little more credit as far as what they should know by the time they do the type of lesson I created.
I have learned that there is hope at the end of the Grad School tunnel. Although my prof gave very good feedback on my assignments, it was a little kick in my pants to read it. But he also gave encouraging comments. I have to admit, I am a little concerned about how it will be when I actually get my own class--a little more overwhelming than just visiting someone else's class once in awhile. However, after some life experiences I have had recently--standing up in front of people and just having presence and taking command of the room--I have hope that I have potential.
As long as I am willing to learn.
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
The Gift of Friends
This past year has been an adventure for my family. It's been good, but tough. The pinnacle of the year was last August. My mom sold our family home and she bought a new home closer to my sister. The move was tough on my entire family, and although we are very close, this change took a toll on us, but the blessing is that God heals, and family is...well...still family. And we've been able to share other blessings that remind us of how important family is.
As this year comes to a close, it is a different kind of family that I find myself reflecting on: Friends. If this year had a theme, I'd say that 2014 was the year for friends. As much as my family has come through in the past few years, the one constant has been the love and support of my friends. Read on:
Olga is one of my oldest and dearest friends. We have known each other for almost 40 years. The benefit of being friends with someone this long, is that she knows me better than anyone else in my life. She sees through me. And she doesn't put up with any BS (excuse that). But that goes both ways too. When I got sick last summer and was in bed for 4 days recovering from a kidney infection, she checked on me, got me lunch, and made sure I took my antibiotics and drank tons of water. She's very perceptive, intuitive, giving, kind and quite the trouble maker. I know I can count on her.
When I ran my first 5k last October, I began the process on my own, arriving at Chapman University all alone. Fortunately, I found my friends who were running, but shortly after the race began, they took off. I had chosen not to try to keep up, because I had my own pace and routine to follow. Right before the finish line, I saw my friends--Marian, Katie, Wendy, Rhonda and others and they yelled and cheered as I crossed the finish line. With tears streaming down my face, they came after me, hugging me, with words of praise and admiration, because they knew what this race meant to me. Marian especially. She's been my friend for 30 years. She has a kind heart, is wise, caring, encouraging and a woman of faith that I will admire for the rest of my life. I am also excited to spend more time with all these friends as I venture into the healthy world of running races-they all encourage me! I know I can count on them.
Then there are the new friendships that are being forged. Friends that I have made at work. I love my job and I am always cheerful and happy when I am there. I revel in the opportunity to spread happiness and help my fellow cast members enjoy spreading magic, as well as have work be magical for all of us. What I didn't expect is an out pouring of comfort and care from them. Thanksgiving day, I was excited to share my big pot of potato soup with work mates, but that didn't happen. The soup spilled before I could get it to work. I was devastated and couldn't shake the anger and frustration I felt. The unexpected happened. One girl chased me down in the bathroom as I washed up to grab me and hug me until my shoulders relaxed and I dumped on her what happened. She dried my tears and stayed with me as I washed the soup off my jacket. Others walked by, saw the devastation on my face and comforted me, and worked their magic to cheer me up. I was in shock. The roles of encourager, and magic maker were reversed. Instead of me reaching out to others, they reached out to me. This still brings tears to my eyes. What a joy to discover that I have work-mates that I can count on!
I also suggest that you have young friends. It has been such a great blessing to have former students from my church's youth ministry become very dear friends of mine. I love watching them grow into young adults and forge ahead into their adventures in life. And they pray for me too! Although I want to pour out a ministry of love into their hearts, they continue to pour love and let me know that I can count on them.
There have been so many other moments where my friends have ministered to me, prayed for me, and comforted me. I am always shocked in these instances because (like we all think) it is so much easier to give these things than to accept it. I look stronger if I'm giving, rather than receiving friendship. The thing is, though, if I don't receive the friendship, how are my friends ever going to be able to give? How can I give friendship if I can't receive it? This year has taught me to receive friendship, and let others be there for me. This is a great gift--to know that someone can count on you.
As this year comes to a close, it is a different kind of family that I find myself reflecting on: Friends. If this year had a theme, I'd say that 2014 was the year for friends. As much as my family has come through in the past few years, the one constant has been the love and support of my friends. Read on:
Olga is one of my oldest and dearest friends. We have known each other for almost 40 years. The benefit of being friends with someone this long, is that she knows me better than anyone else in my life. She sees through me. And she doesn't put up with any BS (excuse that). But that goes both ways too. When I got sick last summer and was in bed for 4 days recovering from a kidney infection, she checked on me, got me lunch, and made sure I took my antibiotics and drank tons of water. She's very perceptive, intuitive, giving, kind and quite the trouble maker. I know I can count on her.
When I ran my first 5k last October, I began the process on my own, arriving at Chapman University all alone. Fortunately, I found my friends who were running, but shortly after the race began, they took off. I had chosen not to try to keep up, because I had my own pace and routine to follow. Right before the finish line, I saw my friends--Marian, Katie, Wendy, Rhonda and others and they yelled and cheered as I crossed the finish line. With tears streaming down my face, they came after me, hugging me, with words of praise and admiration, because they knew what this race meant to me. Marian especially. She's been my friend for 30 years. She has a kind heart, is wise, caring, encouraging and a woman of faith that I will admire for the rest of my life. I am also excited to spend more time with all these friends as I venture into the healthy world of running races-they all encourage me! I know I can count on them.
Then there are the new friendships that are being forged. Friends that I have made at work. I love my job and I am always cheerful and happy when I am there. I revel in the opportunity to spread happiness and help my fellow cast members enjoy spreading magic, as well as have work be magical for all of us. What I didn't expect is an out pouring of comfort and care from them. Thanksgiving day, I was excited to share my big pot of potato soup with work mates, but that didn't happen. The soup spilled before I could get it to work. I was devastated and couldn't shake the anger and frustration I felt. The unexpected happened. One girl chased me down in the bathroom as I washed up to grab me and hug me until my shoulders relaxed and I dumped on her what happened. She dried my tears and stayed with me as I washed the soup off my jacket. Others walked by, saw the devastation on my face and comforted me, and worked their magic to cheer me up. I was in shock. The roles of encourager, and magic maker were reversed. Instead of me reaching out to others, they reached out to me. This still brings tears to my eyes. What a joy to discover that I have work-mates that I can count on!
I also suggest that you have young friends. It has been such a great blessing to have former students from my church's youth ministry become very dear friends of mine. I love watching them grow into young adults and forge ahead into their adventures in life. And they pray for me too! Although I want to pour out a ministry of love into their hearts, they continue to pour love and let me know that I can count on them.
There have been so many other moments where my friends have ministered to me, prayed for me, and comforted me. I am always shocked in these instances because (like we all think) it is so much easier to give these things than to accept it. I look stronger if I'm giving, rather than receiving friendship. The thing is, though, if I don't receive the friendship, how are my friends ever going to be able to give? How can I give friendship if I can't receive it? This year has taught me to receive friendship, and let others be there for me. This is a great gift--to know that someone can count on you.
Saturday, October 11, 2014
My first 5k run
It's early in the afternoon and I'm recovering from running (ok, walk/running) my first 5k. I've showered, had a bite to eat, and I'm on my 4th cup of coffee. I'm having a difficult time concentrating on writing my 8 page paper that's due by midnight tonight. I'm a jumble of emotions, reflecting on my first experience of joining over 1800 participants in the Chapman University 5k walk/run for scholarship funds.
I need to write this down. So, with only 1 page done, 7 pages to go on my paper, I'm putting it aside to share with you my first 5k running experience.
I was so nervous, I had to pee. Before, during and after the race. Why was I nervous? I have no idea! Maybe because it was a public venue and I'm out there with tons of other people-kind of intimidating when I'm used to just focusing on a treadmill in a gym. Now I'm here and there's real athletes out there, pros who do this all the time!
Then I met up with my friends. And they've all done this before, but they love me and hug me and encourage me. Then the race starts and there they go!!! I thought about pushing myself to keep up with them, but I heard my trainer's voice in my head, "pace yourself, do your best, but don't push it." So, I walked 8 minutes, ran 1 minute, walked 4 minutes, ran 1 minute, walked 4 minutes, ran 1 minute....holy crap this is hard! What am I doing? Just keep going....
At about the 1 1/2 mile mark I wanted to stop. My shins hurt and people just kept passing me by...but I kept going. At the 2 mile mark, after watching several volunteers clap and cheer me on, and pass me water, I had tears in my eyes. I'm doing this! And it doesn't matter when I finish, the point is I'm doing it, and I'm gonna finish. AND if you would have asked me just 1 year ago if I wanted to run a 5k I would have laughed in your face and said "NO WAY!" But I am. Right now.

About 1/4 mile from the finish line, 2 of my friends came back looking for me. One of them walked with me. She cheered, told me to match her pace, stretch my stride, and told me a story about a mountain run she did (mountain run? there's an idea! hmmmm...) About a minute from the finish line, I picked up my pace and ran for it, with the rest of my friends right next to the finish line, cheering, clapping, snapping photos...
And I ran through the finish line. I did it. I did it. I did it.
Oh my goodness gracious. I did it!!! And I got a medal!!! And I cried. And I wasn't nervous or intimidated anymore. My friends hugged me, congratulated me. We congratulated each other! (See why it's hard to concentrate on writing an 8 page paper?)
Oh I need to do this again...
I need to write this down. So, with only 1 page done, 7 pages to go on my paper, I'm putting it aside to share with you my first 5k running experience.
I was so nervous, I had to pee. Before, during and after the race. Why was I nervous? I have no idea! Maybe because it was a public venue and I'm out there with tons of other people-kind of intimidating when I'm used to just focusing on a treadmill in a gym. Now I'm here and there's real athletes out there, pros who do this all the time!
Then I met up with my friends. And they've all done this before, but they love me and hug me and encourage me. Then the race starts and there they go!!! I thought about pushing myself to keep up with them, but I heard my trainer's voice in my head, "pace yourself, do your best, but don't push it." So, I walked 8 minutes, ran 1 minute, walked 4 minutes, ran 1 minute, walked 4 minutes, ran 1 minute....holy crap this is hard! What am I doing? Just keep going....
At about the 1 1/2 mile mark I wanted to stop. My shins hurt and people just kept passing me by...but I kept going. At the 2 mile mark, after watching several volunteers clap and cheer me on, and pass me water, I had tears in my eyes. I'm doing this! And it doesn't matter when I finish, the point is I'm doing it, and I'm gonna finish. AND if you would have asked me just 1 year ago if I wanted to run a 5k I would have laughed in your face and said "NO WAY!" But I am. Right now.

About 1/4 mile from the finish line, 2 of my friends came back looking for me. One of them walked with me. She cheered, told me to match her pace, stretch my stride, and told me a story about a mountain run she did (mountain run? there's an idea! hmmmm...) About a minute from the finish line, I picked up my pace and ran for it, with the rest of my friends right next to the finish line, cheering, clapping, snapping photos...
And I ran through the finish line. I did it. I did it. I did it.
Oh my goodness gracious. I did it!!! And I got a medal!!! And I cried. And I wasn't nervous or intimidated anymore. My friends hugged me, congratulated me. We congratulated each other! (See why it's hard to concentrate on writing an 8 page paper?)
Oh I need to do this again...
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