Night song

He crouches at
the window on
fragile arms and legs so
easily broken,
a Grasshopper of
a boy.
The curtains whip
easily around him pregnant
with night air and spontaneous
melodies birthed by
a faceless back yard
musician.  Round
silky notes run a way
from the plucked strings
of a phantom guitar and are
soaked up by his
frail body perched on
curled white toes and
long fingers that
press delicately into
his mattress, leaving
not the slightest dent.
Unnatural.
The music fills him up to flooding
and A smile rises from deep with
in, works up his spine with a jerk
and presses outward pushing up his soft
silvery cheeks.  He comes alive under the stars
and darkness and canopy of leaves.  11 years
of living and he is has mastered
the Dance; knowing
which moments to take pause and which
to let pass by on the breeze.

Untitled

Come to me
Stand on the porch of my heart the
light burning to draw
you in leaving me no
choice in welcoming you.  Squeeze you
between my arms.  Trying not
to let you touch me. Your clang-kity clangk
monologue makes
it hard to
like the you I see in you.    I lose
myself to the buzzing
filament to survive it.  The judge holding
court inside of
me throws down the gavel "contempt!" snapping me back to you.  I spread
a generous smile, like a white flag between myselves, the one
that wants to hate you because
you deserve it with all
that ugliness inside of you, and
the one that wants
to love you because you need it, and I know
I'm ugly too.  And so I let you whir chaotically on my porch
but I won't invite you in.  And you feel comforted and accepted because you
are.  I compulsively love you, and can't wait
for you to leave so I can stop.  So I can go back inside out of your darkness,
Inside where the people capable of loving me, the few
I've invited in,
wait.

**as usual I hate this poem, as I hate all my poems when I first write them.  And I hope that those I've let in know who they are: Lisa, Casey, Christine, Laura, my family... among others.

Coming out of the Closet

While I have been a Christian my entire life, not because my parents made me, but because I have a gift.  A gift of child-like faith.  I haven't always admitted it.  I wasn't gifted with the courage I needed to live that faith.  I went along just fine living what I believed until I hit serious opposition, until it got hard, college.  Then I retreated into myself.  I pulled my beliefs safely into a closet out of sight of people that would assume that because I believed in Jesus I was diluted, a non-intellectual, a prude, a judgmental bible thumping fundamentalist.  I was none of those things. I AM none of those things.  Neither are most of the Christian's I know.  Just read John Acuff's blog today.

There is one problem with putting what you believe in a closet.  Your life becomes a lie.  You begin to live according to someone else's rules so that you can divert attention away from what you've hidden in the closet.  This happens very slowly, with small compromises so that you hardly notice the affects.  Eventually, instead of your life being a testament to what you stand for, your life becomes a testament to what other people stand for.  This was quite ironic in my case, as I have always stood for following your heart, stepping to the beat of your own drummer.

My husband and I, during this time still left ourselves open to do God's will.  We were willing to move cross country, to let God lead us in family decisions.  We trusted him with the unexpected news of Cooper's pregnancy and the hardships of my pregnancy with Will.  We went to church most Sundays at first, but eventually stopped.  However, most of our friends wouldn't have known this based on the way we lived our lives daily.    We were living as Peter after the crucifixion.  It is impossible to, as they say "live in the spirit" when you won't profess your faith.  I actually have to use scripture to explain this further.  "Light" is God/Christ, and we are led to the light by following the inspirations of the Holy spirit. "For everyone who does wicked things hates the light and does not come toward the light, so that his works might not be exposed but whoever LIVES the truth comes to the light, so that his works may be clearly seen as done in God." (John 3:20)  I think wicked is a bit much, but I got the point.

After we moved to Virginia I bought myself a bible, after having several disturbing dreams (that is another post or even page entirely).  It was my first bible since High School.  Having been an English Major in college, and having taught Literature for 4 years, I had a new lens on this "literary" work.  I am not one that reads in a linear fashion.  I tend to read a bit on a page and flip through until I find something else interesting, this made my college years interesting.  I was doing this in my new bible when I stumbled upon John 3:20 and realized that there was no duality in life.  That I had to LIVE what I believed.  I realized that "live" and "love" when used in the Bible are VERBS, as they should be in life.  Parables and metaphors I once glazed over came to life and hit me right in the face.  "whoever loves his life will lose it, and whoever hates his life in this world will preserve it for eternal life." "Life" in this passage was what Joseph Campbell calls the "right hand path" or the the life society tells you to live.  The life society values, which is in direct conflict with the path valued by most spiritual teaching.  This made sense to me finally!  As did "if the world hates you, realize that it hated me first" (John 15:18) and "In the world you will have trouble, but take COURAGE.  I have conquered the world" (John 16:33).

Being as intellectual as I am the depth of the words I was reading and their applicability to life, to my life was like a long drink for a seriously dehydrated mind.  I could almost feel my sad, emaciated brain plump up.  It was then that I realized the impossibility of being true to myself while refusing to live my faith ACTIVELY.  Just as it is impossible to stay married if you lock your love for your spouse away in your heart, and never SHOW it in action to your spouse.  They won't know you FEEL love for them if you don't act loving toward them.  You must live your feelings/beliefs ACTIVELY.  I would gain courage, and knowledge to face the criticism if I faced it.

In all reality the Bible dovetails perfectly with all the things I know of Eastern Religions, The writings of the Dali Lama, Carl Jung, Aristotle, Plato, and Joseph Campbell's lectures (ie: There is ONE world Mythology).  We are all living within the context of that mythology, within the context of the bible.  They all point in the same direction, even if they use different vernaculars, and lexicons they are all rationalizing the same thing.  As offensive as it may seem, the truth I found is that Christianity calls a spade a spade.  We are all either living in and working toward the light; denying ourselves those "earthly pleasures", those "pleasures of the flesh" that are immediately gratifying and ultimately self-destructive.  In the light we work toward our best self, toward thinking and living positively, and bettering our world.  Or we are living in the darkness gratifying ourselves, living only to satisfy our temporary earthly desires and ultimately hurting ourselves and the world around us with our selfishness, bitterness, and negativity.  As humans, and this is scientifically backed, we default to self-gratification and negativity if we are left to our own devices.  We need something greater than ourselves to pull ourselves out of the "darkness".  If we aren't living in the light we are living in the darkness.  This isn't to say that some people live in the light and refuse to acknowledge it is the light of God.  They call it something else,something more PC.  I got tired of talking around the truth.  This why it was impossible for me to be a "closet Christian".

I realized couldn't live in the light at home, and in the darkness out in the world.  The habits and values of the world are in such contrast with the values that drive me from within, my "Bliss" as Campbell would call it, the "Holy Spirit" as we Christian's call it.  This is why my coming out of the "closet" may seem abrupt to some, when in fact it hasn't been.  If I am to be honest with myself, I must follow that inner drive regardless of where I am, who I am with.  If anything the bible, the Catechism, and even Joseph Campbell give me the strength call a spade a spade, to take my life back and say, "Yes, I am Christian and intellectual".  Now, I let my life be proof.

His life NOT mine

Me: Coopman, you really are a gift from God.  (His middle name is Zane meaning: Gift from God)
Coop: You know Mom, I was thinking about that today!  I mean, there is nothing wrong with me.  I am perfect (he means physically).  That has to be a miracle, right?
Me: Yeah, I'd say.  With my faulty genetics, you won the lottery!  It's more than that though. you know.
Coop: What do you mean?  I just meant that I was easy on you because I'm never sick, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with me ever.
Me: That's true.  I think you've had a handful of colds as an infant, and maybe the flu, what like 3 times?
Coop: yeah, 3 times.
Me: You were more than just abnormally healthy though Cooper.  That was of course a HUGE blessing.
Coop:  Yeah, I mean you could just take me out with a coat in the winter when I was baby and be like, 'here you go!' and I wouldn't get sick or anything!
Cheeky little cuss.
Me: yeah, I'm sure we did that to you... Oops.  But I mean that we didn't have to baby proof our house for you, we didn't have to worry about anything with you.  There were no unseen hazards for your dad and I because you seemed to know what they were and to avoid them on your own.
Coop: Well, Will definitely didn't do that for you.
He's totally right here, but we'll just ignore that statement.
Me: Well, it was like you were a grown up from the moment you were born.  Almost like God knew I needed to be eased into this "parenting thing".
He loses interest now and starts talking to me about Pokemon.
This conversation is much deeper to the two of us than it seems.  Because he knows what I'm about to say.

I thought about aborting him.  There I said it out loud.  Go ahead and judge me. I didn't want to be mother yet.  Sure I was engaged to the man of my dreams, and I knew he'd want to keep the baby.  I knew he'd do everything necessary to provide for us both.  I had done everything I had been told to do to prevent this, it wasn't fair.  That's why between hearing, "No Miss Cooper, you're not anemic... You're pregnant" and going back to my future husband's apartment I stopped at a park to think it over.  There would be no choosing what I wanted once I told Casey, because it would kill him if I aborted our baby. No, if I didn't want to keep the baby he could never know.  I wanted to have a choice in the matter, even if contemplating the "unspeakable" went against everything that was Catholic.  The girl who marched in Pro-Life rallies wanted a choice.

I sat in my beater of a car at the park and bawled and bawled and bawled to the barren trees, to my steering wheel, to a God I wanted to be mad at.  I couldn't be mad at God though, I DID THIS TO ME.  I thought of all things that would be ruined.  I was captain of a Division I track team.  How would I tell the team.  I had a scholarship, what if I lost it.  I had been running REALLY well, and was on track to break records, and win things, all that would be lost.  I didn't once think about the life in my womb.  It was simply an inventory of all the things I COULDN'T do if I kept this baby.  I had just bought a fitted coat.  I'd out grow it in a few months.  My body wouldn't be mine anymore.  I cried and screamed and slammed on the steering wheel until my throat felt stiff as steal, and I was sure my hand was broken.  Then, limp with exhaustion I numbly sat and counted the dots in the steering wheel cover until I was so cold I had to restart my car.

By: National Catholic Register 

Then I thought of living a lie for the rest of my life with the one person that mattered the most to me, just so I could get my name in small print in Track Meet programs.  No one looks at those names,  no one cares.  I took a deep breath.  Looked down and said, "Fine.  You Win."  I'm not sure I was talking to the fetus, or to God at the time.  In then end I was talking to both.  When I got to the apartment and told Casey the news he wrapped his arms lifted me in the air and spun me around.  His excitement incited a slowly building rage inside of me.  A long angry pregnancy was followed by severe Postpartum depression.  In fact, my husband was sole caretaker for our son for nearly the first 6 months of his life.  While I gave him his middle name, I certainly didn't see him as a gift until he was about 9 months old.  Even at that young age, when people would yell "Go Annie" he would cry.  Perhaps worried for me?  Perhaps he longed for me?  He didn't cry when they yelled, "Go Angie" or "Go Casey" or "Go ______".  Only my name.  He loved me anyway.

It was definitely a blessing that he was eerily healthy, and eerily well behaved.  He might not have survived other wise!  We were two young twenty somethings that had athletic obligations to fill and degrees to finish.  He DID go out in winter without a coat, and didn't get sick.  This little boy had a quiet humor and uncanny ability to sense and appropriately react to the emotions of those around him.  By the time he was 2 I was totally smitten and ever since have worked with fervor to be the mother he deserves, though strangely thoughts of a broken bond were something I never worried about.  Probably because he has always been so tender and warm towards me, even though I didn't deserve it.  So broken bonds just weren't on the radar, until I sat down to write this.  Another blessing? He truly is the best thing that ever happened to me, even if I didn't see it at the time.  Without him I would have been content in my selfishness, dilutedly thinking I was happy.  He has, for me, exemplified grace, and gives me a higher purpose.  He makes me want to be better than I am.

Because of Cooper I learned that just because we think we are happy doesn't mean we are.  Conversely, just because we don't like the situations that befall us doesn't mean we can't be happy anyway.  Happiness is inside of us, not outside of us.  Happiness is everywhere, once we find it in ourselves we can find it anywhere if we look for it.  Memories of those times when we are happy can help us through those time when we aren't.  Happiness is in surrender and acceptance, two things I (a confessed control freak) will always struggle with.  My struggle is less now than it was, not just because of the unexpectedness of the event Cooper being introduced into my life, but in who he is.  Cooper's presence and person frequently remind me that my life is BEST when I don't try to control it, but instead turn it over to God.  That when I try and fail to be the best person I can be I will be loved anyway.  I marvel at him everyday.  I love that kid.  I can't imagine life without him.  The world is better because he is in it.  He truly is a "Gift from God", not just for me, but for you.

Birth Right

Shameless stolen from "Marley's Mama"

We have been reading "The Hunger Games" out loud as a family.  It has sort of taken over our lives.  My husband called me on lunch yesterday, "Hunger Games tonight" he said.  He walked in the door just after 4:30, "Ready to read the Hunger Games?"  Oh sure, never mind dinner, homework, or that I've had the flu.  The man has become absorbed.  Alright, maybe he isn't the only one.  Needless to say the boys were up until 9 pm while we finished reading the last 6 chapters of Book one.  We read through the preparation and consumption of our dinner, thanks to my lack of appetite.  We read as we drove the 20 minutes to my car, still at the middle school where I left yesterday because I was too ill to drive myself home.  We read together as the boys prepared for bed.  When we finished the book, my husband picked up the second book and began reading silently to himself and was promptly scolded by the boys and I, "NO CHEATING".   I call this obsession, "Family Reading Night".  I'm not sure how long this will last, but I know that we have two more books, and it will last at least that long.  To the boys, that will be long enough to feel, "permanent".  In their adult memories it will seem like a tradition that always was.  This is how things are measured in, "kid time".

We have "Family Movie Night" too.  It isn't a prescribed weekly event.  It is homemade Pizza, popcorn, Blankets galore, and a movie we all want to watch.  I can't really make that happen EVERY week.  I make that happen when I have a movie we all like in our Instant Que on Netflix, and the energy to make the food.  Again, they will remember this a tradition whether it happens every week, or every couple of weeks.  It happens regularly enough to be a part of our family identity, or at least to be ingrained in them as part of their family's identity, "kid time". This whole "Family Identity" thing didn't happen by accident, or over night for that matter.  It is something I began thinking about shortly after one of my students was shot in a drive by while I student teaching.  Weird?  It's true.

Staring at a spontaneously emptied desk for weeks will really mess with you.  Passing conversations you never intended to remember echo in your mind, "Mrs. G I forgot my homework at my crib." as he bounced from left to right.  "Really?  You sleep in a crib?  My son sleeps in a crib, but he's only 11 months old.  Funny, you seem way too old and far too large to be sleeping in a crib.  To each their own I guess." I smirk teasingly, and he repays me with childish, almost apologetic smile.  Yep, that got me thinking about gangs.  More specifically, about how gangs give kids what they wanted all along; a feeling of belonging.  A clear identity.  Acceptance.  I definitely wanted my kids to get as much of that from ME as possible!  I wasn't worried so much that  they'd run off and join the Crypts or the Bloods so much as I knew that when they were teens they'd start searching.  I wanted to give them a solid pad from which to launch themselves, and a compass, for the search.  It is so hard to navigate the hazards of our teenage years.  Who hasn't floundered a bit.  Those that flounder least have a decent idea of who they are when they enter into that period of life.  I wanted to give them that advantage.  Family identity, and knowing they will also be accepted for who they are are key.

Who needs a water park!

 My sons are stark contrasts to one another.  One is tall and svelte, the other also tall, but brutish in stature.  One is blonde, one Brunette.  One is a dyslexic math whiz, the other a poet that still adds on his fingers.  My Brunette sensitive to the needs of others and almost unaware of his own needs.  My Blonde, well he can tell you exactly how he feels at any given second, but has absolutely no awareness of the feelings or boundaries of others.  Yep, polar opposites.  Family is where they are loved for who they are, and where they find common ground.  I am thankful for the wise priest that told my husband I, "The greatest injustice is treat unequals equally."  In discipline, and communication they are treated according to their needs.  There is no box to fit into at our house, and yet those EVENTS are reoccurring.  I suppose that is how we see family.  

Yep, I started thinking about how I wanted to "define" our family.  Were we the crunchy kind of family?  Were we punk rock?  Were we sporty?  Where did we fit in?  We sorta fit all of those descriptions and more.  This was an evolution, correction.  This IS an evolution.  Honestly, the more our entire family grows in Christ the closer we get to a place were I worry less about manufacturing this, because it happens on it's own.  No, we haven't always exposed our kids to things that I'm proud of, and we have made some mistakes.  Heck, Cooper has almost grown up WITH us.  Everyone makes mistakes, no parent is perfect.  Besides, I don't think a label, like those above, is something I have ever been willing to live "up" too.  How confining.  No, what I think has mattered most is that we spend LOTS of time as a family, PERIOD.  What also matters is that we NEVER, and will never, impose a specific identity on our kids (i.e. "if you don't love football you don't belong" type of identity).  That's what their search is for.  Our job is to give them a compass and a place to feel safe.  That is done based on how we live, what and who we value.  We clearly, unemotionally, communicated to them what we expect of them, what we deem good choices/habits/behaviors, and who are good examples to follow.  We teach them how to chose friends that will benefit them.  We communicate this by LIVING IT.  Funny, the things I couldn't do for myself before them, I can do for myself now, because I'm doing it for them.

We have thrown aside the values of "the world"; status, possessions, and basically the lifestyle most of their peers are familiar with.  I'll be as specific as one paragraph allows.  Only one of us has worked full-time since our first child was born.  My next statement is offensive, it comes from experience this "having it all" idea is a myth.  When both parents work full time the kids suffer, except in very few circumstances where family support is incredibly great and even then I'd debate it.  There is no replacement for Mom or Dad.  I haven't yet met a kid that'd say, "I'd rather have name brand clothes than time with mom and dad".  Or, "I'd rather go to Disney land once a year than have time with my family every day".  Ask them yourself.  

We live on a Cash only basis with the exception of our mortgage (this allowed us the freedom to pick a house in a neighborhood were our kids are safe and surrounded by like minded families).  We don't take extravagant vacations.  We don't go out to eat.  We don't go to the movies, except on special occasions (and then to the budget theater or matinee).  We don't have Cable TV.  My kids get most of their clothes at Goodwill.  We didn't sign them up for sports until they were 10 and 7, and then only a non-competitive soccer league.  While we don't shelter them from alcohol (My husband and I like a beer or two every once in a while), We DO NOT allow people to drink to intoxication in front of them (this seems like a no-brainer, but it wasn't, which is a long story).  WE DO have family dinners nearly every night.  We do hike and camp near home FREQUENTLY.  We do go to Busch Gardens on our ONE annual free "military appreciation" day (Thank you Busch).  We do have fires and roast marshmallows in our backyard.  We do help people in our neighborhood that need it (see a need, fill a need).  We do have 1 tv (well that's a lie, we actually have 4 at the moment, we are storing 3 of them for friends, and can only watch one since we don't have cable).  We do monitor what we watch and listen to when they are around (also something that has evolved and become more stringent as they've gotten older).  We DO tuck them in every night and recap their day.  We DO work, play, pray, eat, laugh, cry, suffer, rejoice, and live TOGETHER.  Profound if you think about it.  You don't have to agree with our tastes to understand our methods.

We gave them life, but their lives are not ours.  We are their teachers, their mentors, the builders of their foundations.  I love them so much.  I want them to be successful BECAUSE of me, not in spite of me.  We need to be available, physically, emotionally, and cognitively in order ensure that.  It was very hard to be honest with myself about what it would take to make that desire a reality.  It is an everyday struggle to die to my own desires in order to give birth to this ONE true desire to build a solid foundation for my sons.  In essence I do give birth to them everyday, everyday until the day they take flight from me.

Perspective = Attitude

"I have to go the Bahamas in June, for about a month.  They are talking about Papua New Guinea for 6 weeks, but I don't think we'll go and besides I wouldn't be able to go anyway because of Joe's wedding."  I puke in my mouth a little.  I want to say, "ah hem.  Excuse me?!  I didn't walk away from things I loved so that you could go on "vacations".  I don't.  I roll my eyes instead.  It's my go to thing lately.  He says, "Don't worry the Army takes the fun out of everything."  They sure do, except I don't know how you can take the fun out of being in the Bahamas.

When he's gone, I'm home single parenting.  Like any other Army wife whose husband is absent.  I have no free time to do what I'd like (Hey, Michelle Obama there's something you can do to help military families CHILD CARE that we can actually afford).  I worry about him, diving is inherently dangerous.  I knew that's what I was signing up for, I just thought it would be for a nobler reason than going to the Bahamas to "train".  It irks me more than it should.  "It's just a job" he says to me frequently.  Yeah, sure it is.  It's a job that requires you to be gone for weeks at a time doing NOTHING important.  I told him last night my deepest darkest secret, "I'd rather you were gone for a year in combat than for a month here or there to places that are 'cool'.  Then my sacrifices would seem small, and worth while."  I'm pretty sure that's not actually true, but I sure feel that way sometimes.

I am capable. I am talented.  I am smart.  I am able.  I am all these things and more.  I feel trapped by his "job" so often because of the inconsistency it brings to our lives.  I can never get a schedule going.  As soon I do, he's gone again and I have to start from scratch.  Running, Grad school, a career; all things I desperately want to do and haven't yet.  I haven't because of the boys, because someone has to be around consistently for them.  So while he's off livin' the dream (he'll tell you quite another story.  I have a tendency to make his side of things sound way better for him than they are), I'm here being responsible.  I try so hard not to make it about "me", and yet I always do.

Seriously, say I get accepted into the Grad Program I'm aiming for.  They require summer classes.  Well, when he is off on these TDY's (Army for Temporary Duty) who is going to watch my kids?  They'd have a whole summer of no supervision.  They are in that weird in between period.  Too old for day care, not old enough to be alone.  I'd feel like a jerk.  If I ran 4 miles took classes and worked the boys would be totally screwed.  They'd be screwed if I just took the classes.  I used to run, teach and take classes.  Casey took care of the boys.  This flip flop of roles is tough.  Yet, I saw a man that hadn't had his turn because I had been the one living out my own dream.

Cooper and I at my Final Track Meet
for Indiana State.  Like I said
we had them young.

I make it about me because I once had life the way I wanted it.  It just about killed his spirit.  We had our kids young, very young.  We made a commitment to place our children above all else in our lives.  We're talking family dinners, family movie nights, FAMILY focused.  For several years this meant he stayed home and I worked.  I took advantage of the situation and ran, and started my masters.  He took the boys skateboarding, and painted with them.  He was a great stay at home dad (most of the time), even if he was a terrible house keeper (lol).  When I saw how miserable he'd become, how desperately unfulfilled he was, I urged him to pursue something of his own.  That's how we got here.

To be frank, he's a much better person than I am.  Even now, as "head of household", he is more considerate of me than I was of him when roles were reversed.  He does a wonderful job of honoring me on his trips, partially because he is incredibly cheap, but also because he understands its "just a job".  He doesn't take advantage of the situation or of me.  He recognizes how large I feel my sacrifice is, and he makes sacrifices of his own when he's away.  He spends his free time wisely and humbly, and calls home frequently to talk to the boys and me.  Really, can I ask for anything else?

Circa 2004 

We made a commitment to our kids; to raise them deliberately, and to put them, and their experience,  above all else.  He did his time, and now I'm doing mine.  It isn't always pleasant.  It isn't always fulfilling, but it is TOTALLY worth it when my kids are complimented on their behavior, kind heartedness, and work ethic, etc.  When I focus on the things I don't get to do I am hard to be around.  I don't even like myself.  When I focus instead on the ways that my best friend and husband acknowledges and respects my "willing" sacrifice I feel blessed, even if I'm not in the mood to feel "blessed".  Perspective is everything.

sweetest

My husband has been texting me on his lunch today with race propositions.  I'm not sure what they are talking about at work, but so far he has two race propositions from two different soldiers.  He is so cute.  I am lucky that he is, and always has been so supportive.  Saturday he suggested I make a three year plan.  With the goal three years from now being to train again.  Our kids would be almost 15 and almost 12, and my life would be less demanding (so we think now, right).  I guess I need to define what I mean when I say "train".  I haven't done that.

my 3 guys and the water

I love this article posted on facebook by my friend, and charge of Hudson, Pat Rizzo.  It spares no niceties in disclosing the two main facts about distance running; first, it takes years of running  A LOT (100+ miles per week) to be a world class elite, and second, there is no money in it for those of us (being me) national class runners.  The article, for me, speaks to the life I left.  Long workouts; 10 x 1 mile repeats or a 22 mile run with 16 miles just under marathon pace (at the time MP was 6:00-6:10), plus time at the Gym.  I LOVE working out like that.  Everyday I want to workout like that.  It is really time consuming and draining.  At least 2 hours a day of working out, and that's on the easier days.  Before I stopped training I had a hard time finding a gym because most of them have a 2 hour time limit for child care (Priorities awry).  Since training at that level, anything else seems silly.  All or nothing attitude that goes a little something like this, I can't eat just one M & M.  If I eat one I want to eat the entire 1 lb bag.  I don't care if makes me puke, they are simply too good.  So I'd rather just not eat that first M & M.  Running is the same way for me too.  Compulsive much?

On a TDY 

So I currently run 4 miles 4 times a week, or perhaps a 9 miler if I feel so moved and have the time.  I also make sure to give the stink eye to anyone that starts to talk about how hard they work out, to roll my eyes when his buddies talk about cross fit,  and to totally glaze over when I have to listen to these Army Divers brag about how hard core their PT is.  Because of course how I USED to work out far outshines what they do now.  Since I can't train like an elite athlete I have thrown in the towel on working out, and then roll my eyes at people that bust tail.  Sure that's totally rational.  There's no jealousy happening here, move along now.  Always working on that stinker inside of me.  She's a little thunder thief.  I ceased the involuntary one-ups-manship with them, that's a wonderful thing.  Glazing over is better right?

One of the other wives got into Cross-Fit and one day came over and started telling me what I needed to do to get better results from my workouts.  My reaction was totally inappropriate and cost us our friendship.  I stopped her mid prescription and told her something to the effect of "I don't want your help.  I was an athlete for years before you got into this fad."  She is the sensitive (in a sweet way) type, and this really hurt her feelings.  This attitude of superiority surfaced post Army.  That whole, "I'll show you attitude" just sorta went crazy, and yet I didn't have any way to make good on it without stealing time from my sons.  Perhaps my husband has a point.  Perhaps running is the best way to knock that chip off my shoulder, now that I'm fully aware of the serious imbalance I have allowed it to cause in my life, begrudgingly thanks to the Army.  My forced time away from it has allowed me to be really introspective.

Elite start Chicago Marathon 2008, Casey with
the boys, and Mama about to live the dream,
though things didn't go well that day.
 I thought I'd have many many more.
My how the tables did turn, and oh how
I have not adjusted easily.

I think his plan is a good idea.  First, because it would force me to use a great deal of self-discipline to run 40 miles a week consistently.  It would definitely humble me.  It would force me to run for enjoyment, because there would be no formal training plan.  No, 2 hard days one long day, no prescribed weekly mileage.  Just a simple, you can't EXCEED 40mpw for all of 2012.  Second, I like it because with the formality taken out of it I can focus my energy on preparing my mind and spirit to enjoy my passion humbly and without ego, like I used to.  He said, "You can't deny yourself the ability to act out a crucial part of who you are."  I might have been doing that even before I walked away.  There is absolutely nothing wrong with deconstructing yourself in order to get at the  core of what it is you need in order to know how to "act out a crucial part of who you are."  He thinks I should race at least once a year.  Jury is out on that.  He thinks racing would be a way to transfer the humility I'm learning daily onto the competitive stage.  I see where he's coming from.

I have to give myself a little credit,  I am not always so superior, nor do I see myself as a workout diva in all circles, certainly not among my running friends.  Even when I was full out training I ran lower mileage than most of peers, by 20 miles per week at least.  This superiority started when we entered the Army.  It's not an easy transition, and negatively effects each of us differently.  So no, I don't strut around town with my nose in the air.  I am genuinely pretty warm, friendly, and compassionate a majority of the time.  Given you don't accidentally stomp on the landmine of resentment (directed at no one/nothing in particular) I'm trying to defuse.