Judgement is Rich Coming From Me

“Why are there so many people here?”

That was early January in the gym, as I pounded away on the treadmill and grew increasingly annoyed by the chatter around me.

Oh yeah, January–resolutions and such.

I confess that as I watched two pretty, thin girls do five or six reps on each machine and then complain how hard it was, I killed myself laughing on the inside. I’m a little chunky, but I’m in a heck of a lot better shape than those barbie dolls. But after I stopped laughing, I felt guilty. Judgement is pretty rich coming from me. I spent the summer daring anyone who passed me to laugh as I panted and wheezed through Couch to 5K. Now I’m thinner and can run farther, but I still probably look like I’m going to die when I jump off the treadmill.

I hope to heck those girls don’t quit. I hope they can push past the pain and actually get in shape. Not to look better–like I said, they were both beautiful girls–but to become strong in body and mind, and to prove to themselves they can keep their promises to themselves.

I still can’t pinpoint what is the difference between a kept New Year’s resolution and one that dies in the womb. Why did I actually lose weight last year, when every other time I failed? Why am I motivated to run, when I always used to say ‘me no work out’? Because I can’t say ‘here is the cure’, I can’t judge the people who start, and then quit after a few weeks. It wasn’t a physical thing, because I don’t think I’m designed to run. Too short, too thick. I’m predisposed to be addicted to sugar, flour, any kind of crap food. I should still be fat.

I worked really hard–I do work hard–but maybe I’m also very, very blessed.

I mentioned that I had a whole list of New Year’s Resolutions. Well, when I made them I forgot that January is historically when I have a bout of seasonal depression. This year was no exception, with added anxiety and chest pain. I feel like I’m pulling out of it faster than last year, but in the meantime I’ve gone into survival mode. Hence almost no blogging, less running. Less of everything, except maybe sleep. Like I said to my sister today after an aborted 10K, you have to learn to listen to your body. I’m no good at that. But Sons of Earth, my next novel, is on schedule, and I have many months yet to get in fighting shape for my half-marathon (the big resolution of the year). I’m not ahead, but I’m still on track.

Each day is a new day. If your resolutions have all been broken, I encourage you to take stock of what’s important, and try again, and again, and again.

Dear Other Runner, Thanks for Being There

Dear other runner,
Just seeing your tracks
in the skim of snow
Made my legs stronger
Gave me strength to finish
Thanks for going before

This morning I ran my first 10k in more than a month, and my only outdoor 10K this winter. Parts of the path were very slippery, forcing me to slow to a shuffle to avoid falling on my backside. Everything had a light skiff of snow on it. Well into mile 4, I came upon footprints in the shallow snow. They were the definite tread of a runner’s shoes, with long strides and footfalls almost in line with each other.

Someone else had been there!

Post-run, not looking good!

I’d seen no one, been the lone crazy on the icy trail. The painful clench that I’ve had in my chest for nearly a month was returning, and my mind was screaming at me that I’d never make it all 6.2 miles. I’d been away from that distance too long. I’d gone soft. I was still sick.

But just knowing someone else had run that way was a reassurance. I held my pace. At the end of mile 5 I found tracks again. I kept going, spurred on by that invisible runner.

I finished my 10K. Despite the negative self-talk, my time was quite comparable to previous runs. Thanks, other runner.

Pain and Gain: A Canoe Story

What can a canoe portage teach us about New Year’s resolutions?

it was a muggy August day. Above us, grey rain clouds had blocked out the sun and left us to the sticky heat and the mosquitos.  We’d spent the weekend with a troop of teens, camped on a tiny island in the middle of Mud Turtle lake. Now my cousin Starr and I, the two female chaperones, pulled our canoe up on the far shore for the return trip.  But first, we had to make the one kilometre portage to the next lake.  Across that lake was where our vehicles–where civilization–was.

We were eight canoes, and the strong young men had enough to carry without the extra burden of our canoe.  I looked at Starr. “I’ll carry it.”

We’d portaged it halfway on the trip into Mud Turtle before one of the guys had taken pity on us. This time I wanted to go the distance. Our guides had coached us how to arrange our backpack as a platform the canoe could rest on. I’d prepared my pack for that purpose. So I shouldered my hiking pack and Starr helped me lift the canoe. They were cheap, fibre glass canoes–heavy to carry and hard to steer.  I staggered a little as my backpack bit into my shoulders.  Behind me, Starr hefted her pack, plus my extra baggage.  We started walking.

I forged ahead like a beetle, the canoe on top of me like a shell.  The point of the canoe shoved through the undergrowth as my feet navigated the narrow, climbing trail. I had already been sweating, now it poured down my back.  One of the guys passed me with his canoe over his head like it weighed nothing.

“Are you okay?” Starr asked behind me. The pots and pans she carried rattled together.

“Yeah,” I gasped.

A third of the way down the trail I stumbled.  Off balance, I dropped the canoe into the short bushes beside the trial. I groaned and rubbed at my shoulders.  My brother came alongside. “Do you want me to take it?”

“No!”

He helped me pick it up, and I began to walk again.

My shoulders were in agony.  The backpack was carrying the full weigh of the canoe, and transferring it through the straps into my tender flesh. I balanced the canoe with upraised arms, but they were turning to mush.

Two-thirds across, I heard my little brother’s voice.  “I can take it the rest of the way.”

But I was almost there, and I knew it.  “No!” I grunted, “If you take in now I’ll have all the pain and none of the reward.”

So I carried that canoe until I finally saw the silver water of Brereton Lake.  The path turned into a steep descent toward the water. Finally, I dropped the canoe. I’d done it.

All Pain, No Gain

My back was stiff and sore for days, and my shoulders were purple with bruises.  But that’s not what I remember. It’s that phrase: “I’ll have all the pain and none of the reward.”  Whatever pain-stricken, divine inspiration it came from, it stuck with me.

“It hurts. I’m tired,” I say in the fifth mile of my 10K.  “No, you’re too close!” If I quit, I get all the pain and none of the reward. Same thing goes with other challenges. Like at my job, I’ve went through a few season mistakes and lost confidence as I strained to learn and pushed myself too far. “Quit” came to mind. But I’d already had so much stress, and learned so much. If I quit, I’d get no reward. Eventually I overcame my challenges, and gained new influence and skill because of it.

Learn What Kind of Pain it is

Pain is a warning sign. It can’t be denied that if you are in pain, be it mental or physical, you are ‘red lining’. You’re nearing full capacity, and it may be time to back off.

Part of learning to run has been learning to discern what is just stiffness that will pass, and what is the early onset of an injury. For instance, I find that in the first couple miles my legs will be vaguely sore and I’m tempted to say, “This sucks. This hurts.” But by now I know that it will pass as the runner’s high takes over.

I’ve made some mistakes, such as running with a lung virus or pushing myself too hard on a pre-work run, and being sick during my shift. I ran with patellofemoral syndrome much longer than necessary, because I didn’t know something was actually wrong and that it could be fixed easily enough. A coach might have prevented much of this.

So I’m not telling you to be reckless.  But if you resolved to get in shape this year, and you’ve been hitting the gym, you are probably in the ‘all pain, no gain’ stage. Well suck it up, buttercup. If you don’t, you’ll have gone through all that pain for nothing. Give it a few weeks, and it will get better. Two weeks isn’t that long in the scope of things. And then you’ll also have increased flexibility, strength, weight-loss and mental sharpness. Do you really want to succeed? There is no magic bullet. You have to put in the time and endure the pain.

Is the pain worth the gain? Then don’t drop the canoe.

Someone is Watching You (So keep going)

“No runs in a vacuum. There is always someone watching you leave the house, dig it out, come back, and do it all over again. You are being watched by a roommate, a brother, a spouse. The driver of every passing car. You are being watched by future generations. My grandmother ran in college! someone might say of you one day. My great uncle took it up in his 30s and ran marathons into his 60s! We are inexorably entwined within each other’s influence. You may run by yourself, but no matter how early you start, no matter how remote your location, you never run alone”–Mark Parent.*

What he doesn’t say, but implies, is that you are a leader, simply by being a runner. Someone, be it your roommate or the dog-walker you blow by on the bike path, is watching you sweat and hurt, and grow strong. Not all, but some will say “I want to do that too” and will lead healthier, happier lives because of it.

But don’t stop at running, because not all can run. Do you work hard? Do you help others? Do you chase your dreams with courage and ambition? Someone is watching. My aunt opened her own business when she was my age, someone might say, so why can’t I? My friend published a book, so I can too. My Dad worked hard and provided for us, and I want to be like him. “We are inexorably entwined in each other’s influence”.

I hope this encourages you like it did for me. It’s only January 3, but some of you may have broken your New Years resolutions. Pick yourself up and try again tomorrow. You just might inspire someone to do the same.

Also, a big thanks to those who’ve encouraged me lately by telling me how much they enjoyed my book, or that my posts have been an inspiration to them. You add spring to my step!

* “A Mile in His Shoes,” Runners World, February 2010.

I Believe in Resolutions

“Cat: Where are you going?
Alice: Which way should I go?
Cat: That depends on where you are going.
Alice: I don’t know.
Cat: Then it doesn’t matter which way you go” (Lewis Carol, Alice in Wonderland).

Is this the year you actually do it?  Woah, let’s not get crazy now.

Heaven forbid you make a New Years resolution, and it actually happens.  The apocalypse might come right then.  Hell might freeze solid.

Most of the conversations I’ve had about New Years Resolutions have been sheepish, defensive and short. Someone is making resolutions, otherwise the gyms wouldn’t be full in January. But I guess they don’t want to talk about it. I get it. Will power is a fickle mistress. Put a bag of chips in front of me and I’ll prove it to you.

But I still believe in resolutions. A year is too much time to waste, and how will I truly accomplish something if I don’t even know what I want to do?

Last year was the first year I made hard, fast resolutions.  I wrote two pages of them.  I accomplished about half.

Some were miraculously successful. I made the stereotypical resolution to lose weight. I wrote down the number I wanted to see on the scale, lighter than I’d been since graduation. But I didn’t have much hope, I think. So it’s a miracle that I’ve reached December at that weight-loss goal, thanks to Trim Healthy Mama and a lot of hard work.

I prepare to lace up for the first time.

This brought a surprise with it: running. I didn’t want to run. I was sure I couldn’t do it. But when a friend I met through Trim Healthy Mama goaded me to train for a 5K in August, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the kind of crazy I needed. I bought a pair of shoes and downloaded ‘Couch to 5K’ onto my phone.

Two months later, I ran my first 5K. I was in love. I ran three more 5Ks. November 1st, I ran 10 kilometres for the first time and now run that distance weekly. Resolution #1 for next year? Run my first half-marathon.

I also set a goal to release my first book. It was late, but We are the Living was published at the end of the summer. I’m proud of it, and I learned a lot. I’m now almost done my next novel.

Where I failed was finances. I think my goals were realistic, but I made some bad choices, and some things didn’t go the way I planned. The time wasn’t wasted, because I learned a lot and gained humility.

Will I make resolutions for 2015? You bet. I’m in the midst of thinking and praying and drafting a list. I encourage you to write a list too–if nothing else, to help you remember what you’d like to do this year.

Here are a few pointers.

1. Make the goals specific. If you don’t know your destination, how will you know when you get there?  For instance, instead of saying “I want to run farther next year,” I wrote “I want to run the Imagine Mental Health Half-Marathon”.  That gives me a place and a time. The goal is measurable.

2. Make it reasonably attainable, but not too small. In order to run a half marathon, I need to double my distance. I’ve never even run a 10K race. But, I’ve already doubled my distance once, and I have a training plan I can implement. It will be a lot of work, but if I’m healthy I can do it. It’s realistic, but I’ll need to break it down into small steps. I can’t do it all at once.

3. Make a time-limit or deadline–even if that is just ‘by December 31, 2015’. Build in some urgency.  For instance, I know that I need to double my distance by mid-September in order to attain my half-marathon goal.

4. Make it fun. I wrote a whole list of random things I wanted to do this year: go to Folklorama (a cultural festival in Winnipeg), go catfishing, go to the symphony, cook Christmas dinner for my family, learn a new skill, make a new friend and so forth.  Just a bucket list of sorts that I’d be disappointed if I forgot to do.  I learned a new skill, and I made two new friends. I didn’t go to the symphony. But there’s always next year.

I would suggest making goals in various areas of your life (i.e. finances, fitness, family and friends, faith) but not too many. 2 pages may be too much. Finally, write this all down and reread it many times during the year so you don’t forget.

Ultimately, plans change and some of the resolutions you make at the beginning of the year will be unimportant at the end.  But a year is a lot of time to waste, so why not figure out what ‘time spent well’ looks like to you, and resolve to make this a year of growth.

Running and Reading, The Keys to Success?

Will Smith gives his two keys to success in life, and they’re gooders.  It’s a short video. Make sure to watch it.

 

Of course I love this video because I both run and read, and Will Smith just validated a good percentage of my existence.  But still…

Running

Even as an entry level runner, I’ve learned that running is as much a mental game (more?) as a physical one. First you overcome the voice that says “Its hot. It’s raining. My knees hurt. I want to sleep” and you lace up. Then as your legs grow rubbery and your lungs burn up in your chest, you shut up the ‘make the pain stop’ voice by saying, ‘I’ll run to the next corner,’ and then, ‘to the next corner’ until you’re home. When you finish a run, you build confidence and credibility with yourself. You did what you said you would. You conquered yourself. That compounds on itself. The negative voice becomes weaker as you continually shut it up. Conversely, it becomes louder as you let it win.

And you can do this all while wearing very tight pants.

Reading

Smith’s second key to success is reading. I doubt he means novels, though a solid novel can teach many lessons. You can learn almost anything by reading. I have a natural advantage here–reading comes easy. If you say ‘I can’t read,’ consider this. Tim Marks is a two-time best selling author, business leader and multimillionaire. He has dyslexia. He says, “When I read to myself, I would read it, and a moment later, I couldn’t remember what I had read. I couldn’t understand why the words looked as if they moved around on the page. I would struggle with the same word over and over.” As he entered the business world, his mentor, Orrin Woodward, told him he would have to begin reading or he would never make it.

So Tim began to read. He would read the book out loud to himself, and then summarize what he read, until he made it through the whole book. Eventually it became easier, still he says, “Three decades later, when I preach or speak at a leadership conference, I have to read from notes, and I still need to practice several times in advance to make sure that I understand the words so that they don’t jump around on the page. My reading still isn’t where it should be, but it’s a heck of a lot better than it was!”

Reading is a learned skill. As a bookworm, I had to train myself toward heavier reading.  But reading from a wide range of books stores up a bank of knowledge: financial wisdom, people skills, technical knowledge and inspiration can all be found on the page.

So you can absorb the wisdom of Dale Carnegie or Plato while sitting on the toilet. Been there, done that.

Do you agree with Will? Would you add any other keys?

Why I Gave Up the Violin

I used to get stuck in doors when I played Call of Duty.  Those controllers were the death of me hundreds and hundreds of times, and when it wasn’t that I was getting lost on the maps, even the small ones.  I don’t get stuck in doors anymore, but I’ve yet to master the game.  I never will.

I simply don’t have the time.

It’s unfortunate for impatient souls like me, but mastery of anything–including fake combat with a plastic controller–takes… time.  Lots of it.  That’s why I quit playing the violin.

I began playing the violin when I was eleven after I won a violin in an auction.  I’d always wanted to play, and my chance finally came.  I loved it.  But it’s so dang hard to play, and after years of lessons I was no master.  I was tired of being embarrassed by my lack of skill.  I was an adult now.  I had a full time job, little time to practise, and no money for lessons (and no one in my apartment block wanted to listen to me screech).  Writing had become my passion.  So I played one last recital, and I haven’t even opened the case since.

That’s also why I don’t play hockey, or paint, or draw anymore.  I hate being bad, and I’ve no time to be good.

But I can’t always quit things I’m bad at, can I?  Case in point: singing in the church choir.

Swearing at the Choir

It doesn’t sound difficult.  You show up and sing.  But as singers, we are considered leaders and we are held to a high standard in how we live and relate to Jesus.  This accountability is excellent.  But I’ve come face to face with reality in the past few days.  I’m a the good Christian nice girl. I’m kind of a bitch. I rant. I swear.  I go into seething fits about inconsequential details, and offences, and misunderstandings.  I critique others mercilessly while indulging myself. I’m addicted to silly things like YouTube and chips.

I’ve been flabbergasted by my inability to connect to, and like the music I sing.  Two ladies were cooing about how much they liked the new Christmas songs, and inside I’m like ‘really? I think they’re lame.’  This should all be so secondary, because the music is hardly the point.  The point is to worship Jesus through song, and by giving of my time and energy and voice so that others can meet with God.

My leaders have told me is that the frustration I bear owes to the fact that I have a lot of personal and spiritual growing to do.  I know they’re right, and I’m depressed about it.  I want to be fixed.  Now.

And that’s impossible.

A Summer of Masochism

While in prayer yesterday, God reminded me of how I learned to run.  I began Couch to 5K on June 17th, ran my first 5K race on August 19th, and ran 10K on November 1st.  This would have been impossible without 1) a program 2) time 3) lacing up and never missing a workout.  Most of it was great, but there were horrible things mingled in–days when I almost puked from heat an exertion, speed intervals in downpours, black and blue toenails, 5Ks I ran while sick with burning lungs and muscles (probably shouldn’t have done that).  Basically, I was never without pain for the entire summer.

Does that sound like torture?  Well, it sort of was.  But here I am a runner, and I’m so glad.

So I sensed that he was telling me not to be discouraged because I couldn’t be strong that very instant. I need time, training, and discipline.  It’s amazing what a year can do.  But what about two?

I have big plans for next year.  I’ll run my first 10K races, and I plan to run my first half-marathon at the end of the summer.  But there’s a chance that I’m thinking too small entirely, and what I’ll end up accomplishing is a lot bigger than that.  Effort, compounded, can do surprising things over time.

If you’re willing to give it.

Mohammed Ali said, “I hated every minute of training, but I said ‘Don’t quit.  Suffer now and live the rest of your life as a champion.'”

 

 

Repeat After Me: There is No Perfect Woman

“I have an iron will, and all of my will has always been to conquer some horrible feeling of inadequacy… I push past one spell of it and discover myself as a special human being, and then I get to another stage and think I’m mediocre and uninteresting… again and again. My drive in life is from this horrible fear of being mediocre. And that’s always pushing me, pushing me. Because even though I’ve become Somebody, I still have to prove I’m Somebody. My struggle has never ended and it probably never will.”  (Madonna, in a 1991 Vanity Fair interview)

I’ve been told that this is predominantly a girl-problem.

Body Envy/Worship Envy

In every arena of life, I relentlessly compare myself to others.  Not men, other women.  There are the obvious ones, like comparing my muscular build to their hour glass figure, or my hipster/writer costume to their sophisticated duds.  The mall is hell for these sorts of things.

But that isn’t all.

I get angry because so-and-so in my church cell group is better at worshiping than me.  They have their eyes shut and their hands raised, while I just got distracted by the sound of my own pure soprano.  And they’re crying and getting all lovey-dovey with the Father and I’m thinking, “Jesus, I really hate this song.  Can you zap this song and make it disappear?”

And then I look at them and think “You’re faking it.  I just know it!”

So women push themselves toward the crippling burden of perfectionism.  Perfect body, perfect hair, jeans that fit perfectly, perfect hostess, perfect Mom.  Not only do I need to run three times a week to fight back the potato chips, but I need to go out in stylish gear so I look hot while doing it.

Yeah, I’m pretty sure that ain’t happening.

That is why most people who suffer from eating disorders are women.  Women are more likely to self-harm and commit suicide.

I am Remotely Controlled

But this attempt to control our lives and make them perfect is actually to give ourselves over to be controlled.  We may desire peace and contentment, but the popular opinion of beauty and fashion will not let us.  ‘The Jones’ won’t let us be happy until we keep up to them.  Heck, as I’ve talked about in Still Fat on the Inside, we won’t even be able to enjoy innocent pleasures like food.

We will miss opportunities that could be life-changing, all because we were afraid of looking stupid.  I can think of fun activities that I didn’t participate in because I was afraid of failing.  I’ve never been to the gym, because I’m afraid of looking stupid (that will have to change soon–ugh).  I won’t ask for help, i.e. in finances, because I don’t want to admit areas of weakness.

So while I am trying to control how others think of me, they are actually controlling me.

And why?  Tell me: would we like a perfect person?

The Flawed Hero is the Best Hero

As we stood outside my building after a run, my friend Rosie and I were talking about a book series she’d been reading.  The one book had this character who was a good Christian girl, willing to do whatever God asked.  It was like she could do no wrong.  The second book starred a young gladiator who hated God.  Who did we agree was more fun to read about?

I’d say this was part of our comparison and perfectionism, but I suspect there is something else to it.  Our subconscious minds can spot a fake.  The author can sell us that godly goody-two-shoes as reality but in the back of our minds we know that this is just wishful thinking.  There are some really awesome people out there who love God and want to follow him.  But we know ourselves, and we know how hard we have to fight just to do one or two good things every day.  We know that we treat God like we treated our parents.  We do what he asks, while stomping around and kicking the dog to prove that we’re only doing it because we have to.  And only for the briefest moments do we experience the harmony with Him, and that intimate friendship that we so desire.

If we love the loser characters, can’t we accept ourselves too?  Can’t we look into our own hearts and see the weaknesses, and realize that no one is without flaws?

You can’t see what goes on inside another woman’s mind.  You can only see the external accoutrements of her life.  You haven’t seen the price she paid for what she has.  I worry sometimes that people look at me and think I have my whole life figured out.  Like today, I mentioned the awesome run I had to an friend.  She asked, “how long did you run?”  I immediately felt the need to downplay and said, “Well, 10 kilometres–but I don’t run 10K every day!”  I used to think that ‘real runners’ practically floated above the ground, and ran without pain and gasping for air.  Now I know this is a fantasy every time I pull off my jacket and the stench of sweat emanates from my shirt.  I know the perpetual tired legs, and the burning chest, and the foolish feeling one gets when prancing around in skin-tight pants.

So allow others their weaknesses, and own up to your own.  It can be immensely freeing to admit that you’re weak.  I’ve found great relief in telling my friends my struggles, only to have them smile and say, “I feel the same way.”

Repeat after me: there is no perfect woman.  And we aren’t so different after all.

 

 

 

 

 

Still Fat on the Inside

“Reject the the philosophy that is causing you to fail, or you will never succeed” (loose quote of business leader Claude Hamilton).

It’s been seven months since I committed to losing weight.  Wonder of wonders, it actually worked and I am sitting here on a smaller butt than I was in March.

And it’s been five months since I began running.  Tomorrow I’ll run 10K for the first time.  The other day, my sister made an off-handed comment about ‘yeah, but you’re in shape’ and I went ‘ha ha… oh.’  I guess anyone who can run ten kilometres can be vaguely construed as in shape.  I’ve never, ever been in that category.

But am I really a different person?

January 2014

September 2014

Most days I don’t eat sugar, and I eat my veggies and my flax and my sweet potato fries.  I like eating that way.  I feel good.

But then the next day I have unbearable cravings and I polish off a bag of chips.  I did that yesterday, and afterward I was like “why the heck did I do that?”  I know that about halfway through I’ll stop enjoying them, but the hand will keep going to the mouth just because… because why?  I don’t know.  I can’t seem to stop it.

A lot of things have changed, but some key things haven’t.  I still love food far, far too much.  If anything, it seems to take a more integral part of my life because now it is all about timing my meals to get optimum energy, and obsessing over if something has too many carbs or not enough, and feeling guilty every time I eat pumpkin pie at a family gathering.

I did that when I was fat, too.

I’m not talking about body image.  I like my body, thank you very much.  I’m talking about freedom.

At the time of writing, I am almost twenty-four hours into a day of prayer and fasting.  No food.  For those who’ve never fasted, it isn’t that bad.  For me it is almost entirely psychological.  I hate to not eat.  I hate the dull ache in my stomach.  I hate having nothing to munch.  I even miss cooking… kind of.

It took me days to talk myself into doing this.  I’ve fasted before.  Last time I spent all day fantasizing about food, until at about half way into my late shift, I got dizzy and had to break the fast early.  Today my work day was too busy to allow time for daydreaming, but now that I’m home, I’m considering padlocking the fridge and throwing the key off the balcony.

But I want to be free.  I want to be free of my external weight AND this internal weight.  I want the food monster to stop dogging my step all the way around the grocery store.  Food was supposed to be one of the most innocent of pleasures.  What happened?  So it seems right to give up eating while praying about freedom from food.

At midnight National Novel Writing Month begins.  I’m going to stay up, have an omelet and begin my next novel.  I don’t expect to be free in an instant, but tomorrow will be a new day, a new month, and a new chance.

 

An Exceptionally Good Summer

Summer is over.  Manitoba’s autumn is the equivalent of winter in the coastal and southern areas–brain-freezing winds, thick frost, and gun-metal grey skies.

But it was a good summer.  I’ve been reflecting on this past summer and I’ve been so grateful for the great things that have happened this summer.  Here are the highlights.

Losing 30+ Pounds

This began in March, when I was introduced to the book Trim Healthy Mama.  The book advocates a low-glycemic, superfood approach to eating, which I have embraced.  This led to…

Running my First 5K

And my second, third and fourth.  I began the Couch to 5K program in mid-June, and ran my first race on August 17th, about nine weeks later.  Since the completion of the program, I have slowly been increasing my distance and speed.

Road Trip with Jess

In the first week of July, my sister and I packed up my little car and booted off to Minneapolis for a week of shopping, touring, and sister-time.  Neither of us had shopped at the Mall of America.  So we spent two eight-hour days shopping!  After that we were sick of the place, and toured a historic mansion, attended a Independence Day celebration at Fort Snelling, and drank a LOT of coffee.

 Publishing my First Novel

After a marathon of editing, and formatting, We are the Living was released as an E-book in August, and a print edition was released in September.  My friends and family, who didn’t have to format and edit it, were much more excited than I. 🙂

It’s a post-zombie-apocalypse-lovestory mishmash, and a beautiful story of hope in bleak places.  I hope it will be a stepping stone to greater things.  I sure learned a lot from it.

A New Church

Leaving the church of my childhood was like leaving home and family.  Now I am safely ensconced in a new church in town.  It is slowly becoming home.  I became a member of the choir two weeks ago, and now I feel like I have a family within the church family at large.

What Next?

So what will the winter hold?  For starters, I’m going to learn how to run on a treadmill.  I have no interest in running in -40 weather, so the treadmill will need to be my best friend.  I’ve never used one, so this might be funny for everyone else.

I have plans to complete National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) by writing the first book in a series, which I plan to debut late next year.  In the meantime, I am editing a sci-fi novel, for release in the spring.

And you know, I’m kind of looking forward to Christmas.  Too soon?

How was your summer?