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A Christmas I will Always remember

I don’t write too much about my husband, Eric. Here are three things that tell a bit about him: 1. I nicknamed him The Peace Ruiner, and he’s quite proud of it.  His perfect day would begin with Metallica blaring from his alarm, but I nixed that back in our twenties. 2. He’s happy ALL the time! Every day is a great day that he tries to make even better which is really a wonderful way to live. His positive energy inspires me. 3. He’s as stubborn as me! We are two firstborns that like to have our way. When our power is focused for good, we can accomplish great things. When it’s focused against each other, we’re two storms colliding. It’s not pretty.

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I woke up in 2003

Before Thanksgiving Day 2003 I had been asleep, going through the rise and fall of daily life like waves on an ocean. I believed the key was to make my children’s lives better than my own and to create the fairy tale, the one with the white picket fence, big house, and happy family. Back then I had three major goals: Have a house that my children could call their childhood home, stress education so my kids would go to college, and educate myself and have a career so I wouldn’t be dependent on anyone. I finished my degree, we built the house and my husband, and I set high expectations for our children’s academics. We fell into the rhythm of early mornings, school, after-school activities, bed, and repeat.

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Just as a seed needs sunshine and rain to grow so do we.

Pain is the rock in our shoe daring us to take a step.

Joy is the feather that floats through our veins willing us to take flight.

Pain is like blinders on a horse restricting vision.

Joy is imagination run wild.

Pain is the hurdle challenging us to jump.

Jump! Run! Fly! Grow!

A funny thing happened when I stopped training for a marathon. My pants shrunk. They didn’t fit like they did when I had been running thirty miles a week. I had still been going to the gym, but running had lost its luster. Before I knew it my usual five days a week dwindled to three. Every time I’d plan and think that this was the week I’d get back to running something would come up and I wouldn’t be able to go. It didn’t take long before two miles felt like ten. Without a workout schedule specifying exactly how many miles I was to run each day, there was no intention, and therefore my mind dictated how far and how fast I’d run. It didn’t work out well.

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“F-E-A-R: has two meanings: Forget Everything And Run or Face Everything And Rise. The choice is yours.” – Zig Ziglar

I’ve had a sore on my foot for months. At first, I used callus removers, and lavender foot soaks to try to get rid of it. One day I would think it was healing and the next it would be worse. Walking was painful and running almost unbearable. I bought new running sneakers with extra cushioning and wrapped my foot as tight as I could just to be able to get through three miles. Afterwards, I’d limp around the house.

As time went on, I got used to the pain. I decided it was something I was going to have to live with. If I were lucky, it’d go away on its own. One day my husband watched as I tried to put on sandals taking deep breaths and wincing with each turn of my foot and he asked: “when are you going to see a doctor?”

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Tuesday Evening September 5th

I called my friend from the road, “Are you staying or going?” Memories of our family with our greyhound and cats huddled under our stairs during hurricane Charley came rushing back. She was emphatic, “Go!” It was just me. My husband was traveling for work; my son was at college and my daughter in Illinois. I had settled into my routine after traveling most of the spring and summer, and I really didn’t want to leave. Gas stations were already out of gas. There were reports of shortages of water.  It was only Tuesday. The storm was predicted to hit on Sunday. Remembering our days without power after Charley had me wondering how bad it would be after Irma even if my house survived.

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