Fifteen days ago, I decided to run 3 miles a day until Thanksgiving. I'm 43 miles in (I ran 4 tonight and still have 2 to make up for since I missed my Friday run) and I'm feelin' good. By Thursday, I will have run a total of 57 miles in 19 days.

When I ran my first of 19 runs, I was having a rough day and thought that a good run would help me clear my head and de-stress. Boy was I right. It felt so good, I thought I'd do it again the next day. After my 2nd run, I thought 3 miles is no problem, why not do another 17 days until we leave for Hawaii. I went ahead and ran each day, and by that Friday, I was running 3 miles in 27 minutes. I missed my run on Wednesday, so I ran 6 miles on Thursday. Surprisingly, it wasn't hard. It was boring. But not hard. (I had to run it on my treadmill. I haven't run more than 5 miles on my treadmill in a long time. Longer runs are so much better outside! Part of the reason I didn't do a full 6 today. B O R I N G.)

Here's what I've learned. Running isn't just about getting your butt in gear for a tropical trip that involves bathing suits and shorts. In fact, running has become my other best friend this week. This week has by far been one of the toughest weeks I've had in quite awhile. Running has been my escape. My mental break. My emotional release. Tonight, I thought about something one of my favorite running buddies told me on Friday. I absolutely know that running is mental. To me, "mental" has always meant having a running list of topics to think about while running: wishing my legs looked like Carrie Underwood's, my butt in a suit, the six pack I'll have after 1 more mile, getting in shape for babies, the man who ran from Seattle to Florida in 100 days by running 37 miles a day, the NYC marathon Lisa Kristen just ran, the 10K I ran last summer through Woodinville, what I would say to someone if I were to see them again, etc. He meant something totally different - being so mentally "in control" that you think about nothing other than what your body is doing. I did that tonight. I focused so closely to my breathing that by the time I actually thought about which mile I was on, I was already at 3. That's the first time I was able to do that. And let me tell you, thinking about nothing was just the escape I needed.

Today,  I am thankful for my health. I am thankful for my body and for what it is capable of doing - both mentally and physically. I am proud of myself for sticking to something.

And I feel good.

Our Story

I saw this quote on my friend Lisa's blog last week, but I needed it today.

"I can be changed by what happens to me. But I refuse to be reduced by it."
— Maya Angelou

We've all had things "happen to us". Sad things. Bad things. Uncontrolled things. Hurtful things. They become apart of our story. They are apart of how we live our life moving forward. They make us who we are. They make us stronger.

It's during these times that we are blinded by the moment. The moment you learn that life won't be the same. The moment you know someone you love won't be the same. But that's OK, because you're right.

We won't be the same.

We will be better.

Like a Blown Fuse

This weekend was just "one of those weekends". By "one of those weekends" I mean, cry at the drop of a hat at random and not so random times. Like a blown fuse. You know, it always feels so random when a fuse blows, yet when you really think about it after wards you realize that you had every light in the house on, a straightener plugged in and a blow dryer going. It felt good to cry. It felt even better knowing I have a husband that knows me well enough to just let me get it out. He doesn't judge me, or stare at me like I'm crazy. Instead, he'll get up from his chair, walk over to me and just let me cry it out, until there's no more tears... or until he makes a joke in between sobs that makes it impossible to continue. This guy, I tell ya. While I wish the reason for the crying mattered, it really doesn't. I don't think it really matters what triggered the tears because I think they just needed to get the heck out. Needless to say, I feel better.

On a similar, yet very different note, I have a new goal. I'm attempting to run 19 three mile runs between this past Sunday and Thanksgiving - one a day. We leave the day after for our much needed getaway to Hawaii so I thought what better way to get my butt in gear. Even if I don't shed a pound, I will be more mentally prepared to put on a swimsuit. That's good enough for me. So far, I have been meeting my objective - 4 days in a row! However, yesterday could have gone bad. I blew a fuse. One whole side of our house was powerless. Ty wasn't home, which meant I was too. I had no idea where the fuse box even was in our house. I finally found it in the garage. After attempting to switch the switches and click the clickers twice, I had made zero progress. Ty was an hour away from being home and it was already 8:30. I'll be honest. I almost gave up. I didn't. Ty got home at 9:30, did his magic and I was up and at 'em doing my 3 miles.

What would I do without him?

Apparently I'd be living in the dark, crying.