Who Am I?

I am not sure I have the answer anymore. I feel like I used to know who I was in this world: mom, daughter, sister, wife, friend, Jesus lover, Californian, runner and sometimes triathlete. I felt very confident in my place in the universe, comfortable, and most often happy. These days, nothing really translates. I live in a foreign land, my faith has been shaken with the recent death of a friend, I question why God would leave me here in the desert feeling alone and forsaken, and now I don't even have my best stress reliever-I can't even run. I am a swimmer.


Marine Corps marathon is this weekend and I am depressed that though it was on my to do list of marathons, I won't be attending. Laying on the massage table last Saturday, Sharon encouraged me to reevaluate my place and who I think I am. I know I have been rattled to be shifted out of my hometown and now to try to stand up again here in this one. Everything feels off-kilter, and not just the imbalance of my feet in light of this injury. Like my back that is aching in light of a new workout routine, everything is just a little tweaked in my world without the familiarity of home and the morning run. How can it be adjusted?


Sunday I met the group at South Beach to ride North to the Inlet, though Lori and I turned back early to make it home on time. The wind was grueling, in our faces. Lori looked at me and said, "This is what our hills are here

"Yeah, but at least where I'm from, the hills come with some reprieve-you get to go down the backside of them!" I told her.

Here, the wind blew its angry fury directly at us all the way North, which allowed us to only go about 17 miles per hour. On the way home, however, we were loving screaming along the coast. I loved moving along without the threat of falling down a mountain at that speed. It was great and I am hoping to make it a staple workout for a while, if the schedule will allow for it.

I love Gene. As my new found swim coach, he is the newest man in my life. I brought him coffee Tuesday and he was so happy to be part of Lori and my "coffee club" as he dubbed it. He told me at 73 years old, he can still swim 73 fifties on just over a minute base. I was impressed, after all, since he is an old guy.

Marc dropped into the gym this week while I was there working out, waiting for the kids to finish their gymnastics routine. I love that after twelve years of being together, we still love being together. I can look at him from across the gym and he makes my heart sing. I tried to pretend I didn't know him. Would I think he were cute if he were not my husband? Absolutely. Is he kind of spazzy the way he does his abs on a flat bench? Yep. Cute. It brought back memories of seeing him in the gym in college when I didn't even know his name, but I appreciated his adorable qualities even back then. With all of our stupid inside jokes and idioms, with his randomness and my sarcasm, something about us just works. In all of this mess and chaos and unfamiliarity, he is my anchor.

We leave for Georgia for a week on Sunday and I am counting the days to cooler weather. Ye haw.