Thanksgiving has once again come and gone leaving behind a turkey carcass and the promise of homemade soup. The boys were with their dad and his large family on Thursday. I sent them off with a loaf of freshly baked bread, content to spend the morning tramping around the golf course with Jeter gathering bittersweet vines (and thorns in my hands) before having dinner with friends. It was a relaxing day.
Appreciation for all the blessings we are fortunate enough to enjoy shouldn’t be limited to a single day on the calendar. How different would the world be if each day, prior to climbing out of bed, we began by saying thank you to the universe for one or two of the gifts we have been lucky enough to be given? Simple things like heat on a cold morning, the promise of breakfast from a well stocked pantry or the ability to hear the rain falling. Do you think about these treasures?
My life isn’t perfect. I could spend my time itemizing all the different things I’ve never had – supportive and present parents, the ability to live without financial considerations, the means to completely indulge my creative interests, but what’s the point of that? I have so very much for which to be grateful.
The health of my children is the biggest gift I’ve ever received. While they may struggle at times, physically they are capable and strong. I so appreciate that. My brother, friends and extended family have given me their love and support across both years and miles. How lucky am I?
My days are busy and brimming with wonderful things. Would I like a steady someone special to share my life with? Sure. Am I appreciative of the fact that I know how to enjoy myself regardless of my relationship status? Without a doubt.
As the holiday season goes into its annual state of frenzy, think about taking a moment to consider all the gifts you do have instead of focusing on what isn’t (a) present. You just might find your own plate is pretty full, too.
Now I need to get some new pillows!
Last Monday, my oldest son and I took a walk with Jeter around the neighborhood. We were about a mile away from our house when we came across some curbside treasure – a leather couch in remarkably good condition. Hmmm.
I should tell you about our history with couches. In the last 20 years there have been at least 6, 3 of which were bought on Craigslist. You see, we (and by “we” I mean the male Lillys, Jeter included) destroy couches and I refuse to spend more than a couple of hundred dollars on a replacement, particularly in light of the fact that I spend very little time actually sitting on one. So….
Liam and I gave the couch a quick once over and decided it was worth my walking home to get the car. I left he and the dog and returned with my wagon within 15 minutes. That’s when the real fun started.
The couch is a small sectional in two pieces. The small piece and the cushions easily fit into the back of my car, but the larger part? It was not happening. At this point, I was committed to getting the couch and came up with my best option – drop the smaller section at home and pick up my middle son. We were going to have to carry the couch.
I wish someone I knew had been able to witness the ridiculousness of us carrying that piece of furniture approximately a mile. The laughter (mine alone), the bitching (Griffin owned that part), the cursing (all of us)…it was a classic moment in mothering which, I hope, will one day be passed down to future generations of Lillys as an example of how crazy I was.
We made it, with uncountable pauses along the way, to about a block from our house when I caved to the complaints and called my always helpful and strong neighbor, Emily, to literally lend a hand. As we hauled the couch down the street, two more neighbors came to our assistance – big, strong guys who completely saved our asses, not to mention backs, by muscling the couch up the stairs and into my living room.
I look forward to sitting on it soon.
The first time I remember wanting to be a runner I was about 12 or 13. It seemed like such a cool thing to do – put your sneakers on and a pair of nylon, fluorescent colored shorts (it was the 80s) and just GO. I was infatuated with the idea, but, as I’ve come to learn about romantic infatuations, the reality didn’t measure up to the fantasy.
It was early fall and dark in the morning when I left my house to run down the dirt road we lived on. The air was fresh, but my gasping made my lungs feel tight not wonderfully expanded as I had imagined. The distance I attempted, perhaps a third of a mile, felt endless and I found myself walking, not running. I gave up. Obviously, running was not going to be my sport.
35 years later, I’m registered to run a trail half marathon this weekend. How did that happen?
- I learned that sometimes small steps, be it at a walking stride or a running pace, are the way to make progress.
- I realized that running is a challenge that I find satisfying. It feels good to push myself.
- I’ve accepted that there are some runs that turn into walks and that that’s ok. Life isn’t a race and I am committed to enjoying the journey.
- I have a posse of running friends who inspire and encourage me.
- I now know that for every step which feels difficult, there are 10 steps that feel amazing. I’m no mathematical genius, but that adds up for me in a positive way.
- Most importantly, while I didn’t initially know how hard running was going to be, I also had no idea how incredibly happy a good run would make me feel.
- I know now. I’m a runner.
Filed under aging, beauty, Exercise, friends, girlhood, musings, Observations, road trips, running, Uncategorized, upstate New York
The last time I ran up, and I do mean up, at Thacher Park was over the summer during ARE’s trail series. The weather was fine and the people were nice, but the course began with a murderous hill which made me a bit cranky. I don’t mind hills*, but, please let me work up to them!
Last Sunday’s Squirrelly Six caught me a little unprepared. You know, the week you open a restaurant and work 6 consecutive days/nights may not be the right time to register to run six miles through the woods, but there I was, nonetheless, at 9:30 in the morning at the starting line. The weather had been a concern since rain was in the forecast and I was worried it might be kind of cold. We (my Lunar Girls were there, too!) totally lucked out with a mostly dry run through some fresh mud from the previous night’s showers in an almost balmy 50’ish . Mud is fun, though and I nailed it when it came to running attire, luckily selecting layers which kept me comfortable for the duration.
I’ve done this race, I think, 3 consecutive years and the course which debuted this year was my absolute favorite. The trails were mostly fairly wide with limited hills and the vista was spectacular. No, really – it was a stunning morning with peak foliage and a mood enhancing layer of fog in the valley. I was unable to resist stopping twice to snap a couple of pictures because it was that scenic. It was an absolutely beautiful run and the perfect personal reward at the end of a long week.
Next up – After the Leaves Have Fallen in early November. It’s a bit more than twice the distance which means it should be at least twice as fun, right?
It can be music to a person’s ears.
What a week! As I anticipated sitting still for an hour or so to have my nails attended to, I finally had some time to reflect upon what has transpired in the last 7 days. Taking a few moments to consider all that has happened felt like a wonderful luxury – even more so than soaking my feet in a hot bath and having the pedicure chair’s magic fingers digging into my spine. Time is truly life’s greatest gift.
Following closely behind the present of time, are the countless people who have encouraged, supported and advised me during the months-long process of becoming a restaurant owner. I know that the intensity of this last week would never have been realized, or survived, without the presence of friends who I have felt in my court during each and every moment.
If you know me, or have read me, you’re aware that I am not an overly emotional woman. Sure, pictures of animals and people suffering in poverty always make me tear up, but, generally I’m a pretty cool character. Unless, you tell me you’re proud of me. Hearing that sentiment directed towards me is guaranteed to penetrate my reserved exterior faster than Superman falls to kryptonite.
Never in my life have so many friends expressed their pride in me. I am overwhelmed, and occasionally overcome, by the outpouring of respect and pleasure for this wonderful adventure, Lark + Lily, on which my brother and I have embarked. Thank you, so very much. It means more than you will ever know.
Despite not having been impressed with the class I took last month in P’town, I decided to give stand up paddle boarding yoga a second try recently. Although I’m still not completely hooked on the concept, I had a much more positive experience this time around and that’s saying a lot considering I was the only person to fall in the lake and there was a giggly Girl Scout troop attending the class.
Taught by Rhiana out of the Kayak Shack, with numerous classes at various times available, the class is approximately 90 minutes long and costs a reasonable $35. Chrissy and I headed up early and were able to get on our boards for a bonus bit of a paddle around prior to class, eventually meeting up with the group and paddling into an area thick with lily pads in an attempt to keep our boards stationary. It seemed to work for everyone but me, but, it wasn’t a real problem to paddle back into place periodically.
No, the real problem was the strap on my bathing suit which nearly turned SUP yoga into topless SUP yoga. Repeatedly fixing that was far more distracting than a gaggle of girls. The other distraction was the sky – it was just beautiful, streaked with pink and yellow as the sun slowly returned to the horizon. This was what I had always hoped for when doing yoga outdoors, yet consistently found elusive.
The scenery alone made the experience gratifying, but the workout was also satisfying. Rhiana took into account the different levels of experience and athleticism and led our group through a class which was differentiated and challenging. I’d definitely take this class again – Scout’s honor.
Swag that glows in the dark? Yes, please!
Driving through 3 states to bring one’s child to school would probably constitute as a full enough day for most, but, you know me, always looking to kick it up a notch. The four-mile Moonlight in Vermont race provided the perfect opportunity to extend Saturday right into Sunday, and got me into my 4th state in 24 hours. That sounds like a win, right?
I rendezvoused with the other two lunar b*tches in a random Troy parking lot (naturally) at 10:30 pm, which gave us plenty of time to get to the starting line by midnight. Yes, I said midnight. Doesn’t running 4 miles in the dark in the middle of nowhere in Vermont sound like fun?
The drive actually took less time than we had expected which left plenty of time for us to pick up our swag, wonder if we were dressed warmly enough (we were) and run into the aforementioned Grace, a woman I had worked with many years ago at Yono’s. If you had told me 20 years ago that Grace and I would both be running a race at midnight in Vermont, I would have called you crazy. Who’s crazy now?
The run was fabulous! The first two miles seemed to be entirely downhill on a combination of paved and dirt roads. There were luminaria lining our path, along with runners in tricked out bling, to add to the light of the gorgeous moon. The scenery, even in the dark, was beautiful like a black and white photograph with random colorization. The hills up were brutal, and the limited light demanded a cautious pace, but the air was fresh and there wasn’t any other place that I wanted to be.
It was the perfect way to both end and begin a day. Check this one out for next year!