Sometimes, all I need is the air that I breathe

The St. George Marathon made it's way into town.  My Dad has been running the long 26 point something miles for 22 years.  And for 22 years I have been able to watch and cheer for him.  I have never missed a single year.  I watched as all those runners took strides to make it the last couple of miles..we figured out last year that the best view was from mile 23.  There was one lady that I was amazed was still running!  I couldn't believe she was moving at all.  I wish I had taken a picture, because I swear the force of gravity would have made her fall down, but she was chugging a long like everyone else.  I was able to spend time with my family and my kids were able to spend time with their cousins and a pot belly pig!

Running has always been a part of my life.  I first discovered running in high school.  The couch in PE kept bugging me to try out for track, he said I great running form, but I never did.  He even had the track couch come and watch me.  But I chickened out and didn't go.  I would run though, every once in a while.  I was never very fast, but enjoyed the feeling of the pavement under my feet.

When I had Sariah, I would run in the evenings, up and down the long hill by my mother in laws house.  It was my favorite run. I had a dog chase me once, he kept trying to beat me..I thought he was going to attack me.  He followed me all the way home.  I was upset when we moved to our house, I missed my old route.

Now, I have been struggling to get back into the game.  You know, being asked four times in about two months if I was expecting has motivated me to get back into the game of running...

Running is hard, it isn't easy.  You can't tie on your brand new running shoes and then expect to run a half marathon the first day.  You have to build up, slow and steady.  Sometimes, your run is amazing, and you feel like you can go farther than 10 miles, heck, you could run a marathon.  And other days, you are lucky if that mile is in sight!  But if you keep at it, the miles and the speed comes.  And the air..I have to train my body to breathe.  It isn't easy.  My lungs tell me to stop, and my heart tells me it can't take another beat.  But I keep going.  Even if I have to start over at a mile, again and again.  And who knows, maybe one day I'll be the one running the marathon, watching for my cheerleaders.  And defying gravity.

Today

Today I woke up from a long night of glorious slumber and knew that I had to dare the something courageous   I avoided it for two full hours.  I took my time.  Checked my email, looked on facebook, scanned Pinterest for the latest trend...and then I couldn't procrastinate any longer.  I gathered all my wits about me(because I was going to need all of them)  and plunged into the depths of my twelve year old daughter's room.  I knew going in that it was going to take me to the pits, and it did Ladies.  I was swallowed up by clothes, garbage and even a cockroach which was lurking behind the book shelf, and I almost touched it..scream here with me!.  But I survived.  Four and a half hours later, I emerged.  This was after my special and enduring helper, little man decided he would add his own touch to his big sisters' room and painted on the wall.  Luckily, I caught the little guy before paint was everywhere.  (crying ensued, which was only cured by Sponge bob, a rice krispy and glass of milk, yes I bribe the stinker whenever possible)

This is the third time i have cleaned this disaster zone that is HER room.  She is going to remain nameless today.  She came home from school.  i didn't expect praise.  I expected tears, or at least a shock of surprise.  I did not however expect ATTITUDE up the wazoo.  Man, I feel like I won a war and only got a lousy pain in my um, rear to show for it.  The thing is, I had asked and nagged, and begged, and threatened and pleaded with this child to clean up her room for months.  When she got her new bed, we even tried to clean some of it out. (we being mainly me, while she sat and grouchily pushed around her mess) That was three garbage bags full of stuff.  THREE.  I kept asking her to clean it up, clean it up, CLEAN IT UP.  I would get the dreaded eye rolling, the huffs, the stomping of the feet and slamming of the door.  I would even get the plugging of her ears with her ipod.  And I let it slip, I did.  I am one of those mom's I suppose.  But seriously, we are going to have company over in three days.  They will be wading through my house, making themselves at home.  If they managed to survive the trek into her room, they might have gotten lost in there.  I didn't want to be responsible for their missing person report.  Or to have to tell their mom I lost them somewhere in the jungle of my daughter's room.  And I knew, with every fiber of my mommy nerve endings that she was not going to clean that room of her's no matter what I did.  So, I broke down, and I did it.  For four and a half hours.

And I received a mountain of twelve year old angst for it.

Thank you, I deserve the MOM of the YEAR award.

I would like a large diet coke and a huge serving of french fries and Oreos for my troubles.

Or maybe four and a half hours to myself and a really good book...

or maybe both