Sunday, November 29, 2009

Training week 18

I intitally set out to blog every week of training to keep a record of my training for myself and other people. I haven't really been able to to that, but I've managed to come by occassionally and write it down. This is one of those weeks when it's so important for me to write it down.

When I started back in July, I though there was no way I would be able to handle the workouts my coach planned out for me. They looked too tough, too long, and too intense. With only 6 weeks to go until my marathon, I'm finally realizing some things.

Today, I ran 19 miles. Not walked, but ran 19 miles. I weigh 231#, at least 60# more than the average marathon runner. When I tried to do this distance last week, I couldn't get past 15 miles. And I came home so frustrated that I almost gave up training. But I decided to give it just one more try. I amazed myself today. I realized that I'm an athlete today. Not just a fat girl running a marathon, but an athlete who is strong, and who has more endurance than the skinny little marathoners out there. Anyone in decent shape can run for 3 hours. Try running for 6 hours, which is how long it will take me to finish a full marathon. That's endurance.

I have a 10 year high school reunion coming up in 5 weeks. I'm so apprehensive about it. These people haven't seen or talked to me in a decade. But on Facebook, some of those people who never really cared what I did or made fun of me for what I did, are messaging me and telling me how amazed they are at what I'm doing now. The people who really used to know me, know that its' no surprise that I sing for a living, and even though they were initially surprised to hear about the marathon training, they know that one thing about me hasn't changed: if I want it, I'll have it no matter what it takes.

Last week, I was scared of this marathon. Today, I conquered that fear. I'm an athlete. I'm going to kick the ass of that marathon. I'm a 231# endurance running athlete.

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Loss

It dawned on me the other day that I hadn't written in my blog for a few weeks. Most days seem to just fly by for me, and I barely can hold on.

11 days ago, time stopped cold in my life. I got the phone call I've been dreading for 3 1/2 years, ever since my paps went into the nursing home. The last year has been a real stuggle for him, with constant infection and a case of broken spirit/serious home sickness.

11 days ago, during a voice lesson i was teaching, my mom told me to put myself on the first plane to Ohio, and do it now. Code: he's dying, come home now. My husband went to work finding me a ticket, and I kep teaching because I was so rattled I couldn't have driven safely anyway.

I left Orlando at 5:00am the next day(which means I got up at 3, after not sleeping a wink), and got home mid day. First stop, the hospital. My mom was a wreck, my paps wasn't coherent, and had lost 50 lbs since July. I've never sat vigil waiting for someone to die, but I wasn't looking forward to this. Besides that, I can't stand my aunts, and they were all coming, of course.

Fast forward one day, and my brothers from other parts of Ohio came in, my cousin from Columbus, and my other cousin from Southern KY were all there. They decided to move him to Hospice, which he arrived to around 8. By 10:05, he was gone. Peacefully, with his entire family around him, he let us go. I won't ever forget that moment. He was the biggest, strongest, and most amazing man I've ever or will ever know. He was the only grandfather I ever had, and I think I will miss him everyday for the rest of my life.

We buried him last Tuesday, and I came back last Wednesday, but I can't seem to resume my life. My brain isn't functioning well, and I'm eating everything I can get my hands on. There is a gaping hole in my life now, and I know that I can't fill it. He's not sitting in that wretched nursing home any more, but the next time I go home, I'll have to go to the cemetary to visit. Although, I must say, he's got the corner lot of the cemetary, on a hill, overlooking a soy bean field and the hills. It's a room with a view for eternity for sure. I had him for 28 years, and 16 of those I spent right next door on the farm living the life only a few kids get to live. My brothers and I spent time with him that none of the cousins ever got to, and I will cherish those memories my whole life.

Profound sense of loss sort of describes what I'm going through. My life won't ever be the same, and I don't know how to cope with that. But I'm doing the best I can.