Crossroads: Trials 2012

I feel so strange tonight.  January 14th, is a day I'd really like to sleep off.  I have friends running down a dream, and friends giving up their dreams all in the same day.  All under the guise of patriotism.  I'm rejoicing and mourning.

Tomorrow several of my old running partners, rivals, and acquaintances will be competing in the Olympic Trials.  Many of my female running friends have solid shots at making the Olympic team.  While I am anxious for them, any shred of discontent I still had over my decision to let go of that life and dream is rising to the surface.  I do feel a need to validate my decision, and to be recognized for who I "used to be".  There's that pride and vanity.  Mostly, I am incredibly excited for, and proud of, my friends.  I KNOW how hard they've worked, and I believe they all deserve an Olympic spot.  It will be hard because, though many of them are good enough, only 3 will make it.  I am already sad for whomever doesn't make it, and rejoicing for the 3 that do.  I know Desi will make it.  I think Dot, Mel, and Camille all 3 will contend for the two remaining spots, I have no doubt they will be in the top 10.  I can't wait to see the results.  While I still fully believe, in every cell of my body, that I made the correct choice, as my children are my responsibility and they were getting old enough that their experience needed to take center stage, it's still hard to fully surrender my pride.  There will always be that "look at me" part of myself.  The part of me that KNOWS I could be on that same start line, and have a shot at the top 10-15.  The mother in me tempers her with the reminder of the training it would take, and though I'd love it, I know it would make my children second in my life, and that in the end top 10 is still not top 3.  It's not easy to be honest about that.  As an Army spouse (especially), if I don't put my children first no one will.  Though my husband calls or skypes nearly everyday that he is gone, he is still gone, and his comings and goings are erratic at best.  It takes unbelievable support to pursue an Olympic Berth, as a mother, without selling your children short.  I am happy for my friends that have that.

Next, I am sad because "Uncle Scott" leaves for deployment tomorrow, as does the husband of a friend and fellow Army Dive wife.  They will be gone for year to the middle east.  My heart aches for her and her children.  Her little boy (2) will sprout fully out of his toddler years and be a pre-schooler before his dad returns.  Her daughter (8) will hurt for her dad.  She will talk to him on the skype, and on the phone, but she still wont feel his arms around her for over a year, and she will feel angry and sad, and not know how to share it. For the children often suffer in silence because they don't want to further burden their remaining parent. My friend will be left to pick up what pieces she can, to answer the hard questions, "will we get a new daddy if our daddy dies?" (Cooper has asked me this) while she too worries, and hurts for her partner.

I will miss Scott a great deal.  I know the boys will too perhaps more so.  It's uncomfortable for me to feel joyous for one sect of my friends, and yet mourn the other.  Knowing, whether you (readers) like this or not, that my friends who get to enjoy training their lives away in order to run for the U.S.A. can do so because of the sacrifice made by my friends who put their lives and families on hold, by the sacrifice those kids are making (they didn't get a choice), to ensure the future of the U.S.A.  I feel the gravity of this so acutely that I think it leaves me alone, and sick.  I am anxious for tomorrow's marathon results, but it will not be a joyous day for me.  A strange and fitting meeting of myselves...