Island in the Sun

I have been completely uninspired and lacking anything really cerebral to write in this venue, therefore, I have written nothing. For the most part, I think things are starting to feel like real life and not a bad dream anymore. I still think that, in so many ways, our lives here are just utterly ridiculous and we are just passing the time until we work our way toward something greater. Then I realize this is a stupid way to experience life, because it is just that...I am not experience life while I spend my time pining for something else, someone else, somewhere else.

Today was truly a day in paradise. After waking at 4 am and running with my running group (we are the sector commonly referred to as "The crazies" because we run so early and a wee bit faster often times), I met up with my Team participants at 6:30 for another 40 minutes of running along the coastline. We then caravaned over to the pool for a swim, where Marc met me with the kids for more swimming afterward. I took the little people to art class while Marc did some work. After lunch, we headed over to Michael and Lori's beachfront mansion for afternoon drinks and sandcastle making. It was truly picturesque on our island in the sun, with not a cloud in the sky, 78 degrees, and the kids frolicking in the warm waves. By all accounts, it felt as though we might be on a tropical vacation with friends. I felt really peaceful watching Marc paddle around on the longboard, with not another soul in sight in the green water, and Michael fishing for pompano from shore, while the kids dug for sand crabs and decorated sand cities with perfect shells. It occurred to me that the one major thing Marc and Michael have in common is their gift of contentedness. I call it a gift, because I think that is what it really must be: to be so completely enamoured with life and everything around oneself, nothing else truly matters. Both of them are remarkably secure in what they have, care little about possessing anything more, and need a mere beer and fishing rod or surfboard to be completely happy. How does that work?

I am envious and wish I could possess this gift, this quiet self-reliance and calm. I generally hate sitting on the beach doing nothing, because it is just that...doing nothing. My mind is constantly reeling with the list of things that need to get done, or how the time might be better spent than wasting away under the sun's scorching rays. I think I am not really sure I know what it means to relax, and so my time here in Florida, overall, seems dreadful while I am waiting for the next thing, not this thing, this time, this place. I spend so much time and energy projecting into the future, I simply cannot appreciate what we are trying to do here, and so the trees are lost for the forest.

Today might have been perfect, were it not for the fact that Lori raised the topic of my unhappiness and discontent with our present school situation. The dilemma continues and I feel utterly exhausted *exhausted* researching the academic avenues that have lead to nowhere. This continues to be the vehicle that drives my anxiousness and reinforces the dread in my chest when I think of the year to come. There are no answers to our school conundrum. There is no way to resolve the disparity of the education issue. I keep looking for the one key that might open the door to the kingdom that will somehow mimic the beauty and order of what we had last year in our district. Sadly, what remains is the uncertainty and chaos of what is starting to feel acceptable, normal, even.

This resignation to mediocre is very frightening and it propels me deeper into a depression. I feel full of doubt, downright hopeless, concerning what will become of my children's education in this small town. Just like the elderly people who rule the roads and drive us into ditches (literally!) as we swerve to avoid their hazardous driving, so is the haphazard education system here. We are worn down to believing that this is as good as it gets and it is simply a way of life here, something we must be mindful of, but tolerate all the same. That, in fact, this may not kill us, but make us stronger, if perhaps a bit jaded. And just as all the locals complain about the "snow birds" who are here and make life a little more difficult, they love to complain about how terrible our academia is, as well. And, just as the law turns a blind eye to the incompetent, expired drivers on the streets, so have the legislative powers that be shied away from any push for change and improvement among local schools. it is simply not convenient. Where is the justice in any of this?

I, for one, do not want to live with relics on the road and backward teaching. While Marc continues to do really wonderful things with his job and daily sees the fruits of his labor in the lab, I am continuously worn down, defeated, with the idea that our kids are not making progress where it really counts. Yes, they can hit forehands and backhands, do backbends and backstroke, but will any of this really matter at the end of the day if they are on a slipperly slope of education? How far are they falling down the backside of the bell curve this year alone? Next year? Where will they be when we do move back to the land of less-than-hillbillie? I shutter to think and ache for something more.

Full Circle

Our triathlon Team is really great. They are all super motivated to workout, work harder, and do more. With the exception of one individual, I think all of them will make it through the recommitment phase of the fundraising, and achieve their end goal on race day. I love our routine and how it is all playing out. Craig is driving me crazy, as co-coach, with his insessant emails and chirpy "coaches notes". I say this with endearment, because he really is an awesome coach and a wonderful person, who cares immensely about this team and these people. I feel very fortunate to be his wingman, and so far, this dance we are choreographing is coming together beautifully. He is incredibly (if not nauseatingly) enthusiastic, and that is a fabulous quality. Now, if only his emails would stop...



So, training is going well among Team members. I am enjoying my double workouts between my own morning practices, and then the additional 8 miles I am running along side my 6 year old when she rides to school. She insists on riding her bike these days, in the name of "training" for her triathlon in April. We also happened to run the fitness course today after school (across the street from her campus) so she could put some miles in her new shoes. It was (finally) a nice day, not too hot, and perfect for being outdoors. The oak trees in Riverside park are immense and overbearing, awe-inspiring and magnificent. The kids ran among them after "the workout" was over. It would have been absolutely perfect, save for the fire ants that invade the property. As it is, my arm is swollen and infected from a fire ant bite from last week, so I am still a bit leary of the buggers at the park. I hate nature.



Anyway, my love-hate relationship with my swim coach continues. This week, I love him because I am pained to write he had a heart attack 2 weeks ago, and is due to enter surgery this week. Apparently the doctors told the old man he only survived because he is in great shape in light of all the swimming he does. Don has a leaky valve that needs to be replaced, so we are unsure how long he will be out for during the recovery. I am saddened to think he may or may not ever return, because as much as he kills me when he hovers over my stroke, I cannot bear the thought of him not doing so anymore.



Lastly, speaking of swimming, my girl swam in her first "real" swim meet this past weekend. There are no words to describe the joy and pride I felt to see both of my kids in Speedos there. It is true, my girl has been wearing one for quite some time now. But, to see the little guy, all 34 pounds of him in a team suit, just about did me in. He wanted to swim in the warm up lanes while we waited between events, and because we did not bring him a suit, we had to purchase a team suit from the deck. This was truly my pride and joy to have both kids in the same lane, "warming up" for the next event. Because our four year old is the spitting image of his father, I can only imagine how Marc looked at that age at his own workouts. Funny how things come full circle. I love a glimpse into the past like that, because it is somehow magical. It is like flipping through the chapters of an old book that is somehow familiar, though I have never read it before.



As if this were not emotional enough, to see a mini-Marc in a tiny Speedo falling off his slight frame, it was really very sweet to see Marc standing with Owen behind the blocks, giving her last minute directives, in his mild manner. Unlike the other parents standing over the lanes, yelling at their kids, Marc quietly reminded her that she had to touch with both hands in the 50 breaststroke, calmly asked her if she wanted to enter the water from the blocks or the deck, and gently urged her to stay on her back the whole time during backstroke. It did my heart such good to see him coaching her in this way, though she did not flinch once, and was not at all concerned that she would pull it off without a hitch. And, indeed, she did. She did great, in what was-to me-a very huge and scary meet. The way in which Marc continues to be humble and gentle, especially in a setting that he knows all too well, really just made me feel extremely at ease and happy to have such a fabulous husband and father for my kids. Now, if only he would work on getting transferred back to Cali, then I would be overjoyed.