Summer Solstice

For me, there has always been something so romantic about the fall. Ever since I was a child, I loved when the wind would change and the Santa Anas would roll through, and the smell of crackling fires filled the walk to the school bus. Despite the threat of fires, I loved the dry, cool air and cherry lip balm that sealed my parched and thirsty lips. Even though I didn't grow up somewhere where there are "true" seasons, Southern California offered enough of a change in climate that the air was different and the turn in temperature at least warranted sweaters and jeans and license to drink hot chocolate. Mornings could be in the thirties and evenings brought crisp air that begged for an after dinner walk through the neighborhood.

Even in the absence of "true" leaves changing colors and falling from deciduous trees, as an adult, I loved running down the pool deck to jump in the water before our feet froze to the cement. I loved the steam off the jacuzzi and the boys club that sat in there and owned the pond. I loved knowing that getting in the pool would be warmer than the air outside, so I may as well get wet and get moving on some yardage.

And now, here I suffer yet another ear infection because the water we swim in is as warm as soup. How I have not stroked out, I am not sure- perhaps because I never push myself hard enough to be in any danger of that happening? I dropped my car off to get tires today and ran home at 9:00 am. In those 2 miles, all I could think about was how I wanted to drop dead and I may not make it back in time to get my kids from camp. Even still, there was a contentedness in me that I have not known in a long, long time. I almost didn't recognize it at first. The sun seared my back and the glare off the pavement made it nearly impossible to choose my steps. Desperate for sunglasses was I, stupid enough to think a hat would be enough. Sweat dripped from my face and rolled into my eyes, adding burning insult to injury, mocking my stupidity for thinking I could survive a late morning run- the second of the day.

Yet, still, I was content. Maybe because I know the trip home is inside of two weeks, I feel calm and at peace. As much as I detest leaving Marc for many weeks on end, I delight in the idea of seeing people and catching up with friends. I love the idea of our trip to Tahoe and a drive up the coast to San Fran this summer. I cannot wait to workout at my old gym.

Maybe my death run today wasn't so deadly because I can think about and look forward to our trip to North Carolina this fall, where it will feel like a "true" fall. I still am not sure how weather affects me as much as it does, but I somehow never feel human when I try to operate under such compromised oven conditions. How am I still not "used to it" after three years? I am dreaming about 58 degrees in the Pacific and rolling hills and chilly morning air. I can't wait to run the cliffs along the coast and drink in the beckoning blue sea. I long for a time when we can redefine our lives and figure out what really drives us and move on.

At the heart of it all, I still come back to who I am and I know that first and foremost I am called to live a certain way. I shouldn't be so negative and I need to be grateful for all of Creation all around. I need to love nature (even gators- eek) and give glory to the One who makes it all. I have no doubt God calls each and everyone of us to a purpose. The difficult part is trying to decipher what that looks like and what that means. Sometimes the code is seemingly impossible to crack when it comes to what He is saying in and through our dreams, hopes, interactions, doors opening or doors closing. I always want things my way, but does that necessarily mean it is His way? Often times, I am too frantic to even try to figure that part out.

I tried to reconcile those thoughts on the run back to get the car at 11:30 am, but by then I was really fried.

Didn't I JUST say...

...I was craving the Pacific Northwest??

I received a call from a dear friend from San Diego days today. I haven't heard from her in ages. Her son and Owen were best buddies in Kindergarten, and their family relocated to Connecticut at the same time we moved here. Ami has been a wonderful support person, with regard to advice on how to tolerate a move, make friends, find a new dry cleaner, etc (they have moved 6 times in the last 6 years!). She just told me her husband took a job in Seattle six months ago and has been commuting. They just decided two days ago to make the move back to the West Coast this summer.

Life is so unfair. I am so jealous, my stomach feels sick inside. I am truly happy for their family, as they deserve every amazing wonder and opportunity this life has to offer, but it pains me to think here we still are, lost in the jungle, and time is marching forward. It's like there is still a huge hole in my heart, an emptiness I cannot reconcile. Most days I feel okay, but then news of something like this hits me and I am completely sidelined, sucked up by a pit of despair that seems insurmountable to climb out of.

I know some of this goes deeper than living in this provincial town. Some of this black hole stems from the idea that my children are growing up, I am not getting any younger, life is passing us by, and here we still are- living a life that I never imagined for my family. In a way, it is sick and demented and ungrateful, knowing that Marc has a wonderful career here, we are together as a family, I can be with the kids freely, etc, etc. I guess the rotten, spoiled, Malibu child in me seeks attention sometimes and needs recognition, pathetic as that may be. I guess I really am just not that flexible to roll with life's punches, evident from a very early age. Perhaps this is why I have ever so much sympathy for my own children when they cannot make sense of the world in which we live and the windy road we often find ourselves on.

When I am with my kids, I feel driven with purpose. I think even Marc kind of gets it now and wants to arrest my tantrums with patience and compassion. When I am running with my friends in the morning, I feel relatively okay. Speed today was great. Being with that crew makes me feel like I can do this, I can make it- everything is going to be okay. That for whatever reason, this is where we were planted and I am meant to grow.

4 x 800s descending and then 4 x 400s descending was palatable in that order. The trick, I think, is to organize my life in some sort of palatable pattern that makes sense and is tolerable. How is it I can always break up the workout into something manageable but life can be simply overwhelming sometimes?

Snake Count

I am up to six in the last 4 weeks. I think the serpents are invading the swampland here. They love to torture me and slither around and in our backyard pool. Why? Don't they know I hate them? Whatever do they want from me? They have broken my spirit and now I have no choice but to purchase Snake-Away, or as my friend in Georgia calls it, "Shoo, Shoo Snake". There is no creature more putrid than one that slithers on the ground and looks at me with those disgusting, beady little eyes.

We ran at 4:30, as usual. The air was so heavy, it was like breathing cotton. We were a big group today, each of us blanketed in sweat since there was nowhere for it to evaporate to in "the fabric of our lives". It occurred to me that I have never been here to experience the month of June before.

Our running group was neatly separated into three tidy sectors today. I ran with the boys in the front, desperate for air, certain they might really kill me today. That is when I saw it- coiled up and sleeping in the middle of the dark, warm road- some kind of red, white, and black snake. I did what any unsuspecting runner would do- jump and scream. Dr. Jim on my shoulder said, "Wait for it, wait for it..." A second scream from his wife a few paces behind. Helen nearly stepped on the colorful vicious hose. Why do they have to be out even in our sacred hour of predawn? Don't snakes need the sun to sustain their pathetic lives? Or have they reached their solar limit like I did, so many weeks ago? They, too, have resorted to coming out only in the dark to suffer the heat and humidity, the lack of air movement, but at least avoiding the blinding sun.

Someone most cleverly pointed out the difference between spring and summer here to me. In the spring, it is hot, but at least there is an occasional (much appreciated)breeze. In summer, it is hot, but the air just hangs in a still choke hold. Summer has arrived. I am restless.

I'm Melting

Today was one of my most favorite marathons back home and I cannot remember a year I haven't run it. Seeing pictures at the start in Balboa Park totally depressed me, but I am trying to be cheery, thinking about some upcoming races on the books. Marc and I are considering the Outerbanks marathon or possibly a 50K in Peach Tree City. Mostly, I am totally burned out on the same course we run here, day in and day out, and very much looking forward to some Pacific time this summer. My legs miss the mountains and my lungs are desperate for some dry air. With the torturous heat here, July cannot come soon enough.

Life is crazy busy, so I am not really sure why I am complaining. It's not like I even have time to hang around and endure the heat, as chaotic as the schedule has been. Each day brings a new opportunity to give back, and that is exactly what we are trying to do with program for soldiers overseas. Little by little, things are coming together and I look forward to working on that project each day.

The kids have been in meets almost every weekend, though now trying to get ready to get home, we have backed off of most competitive events. Workouts and stroke classes keep us moving, and they just assume be in the pool when they are not in the ocean.

This life isn't bad, just not the one I ever envisioned for my family. I'm dreaming of the Pacific Northwest and some time in Seattle or Portland. Can someone hook me up with a job there? This girl is not made for the tropics.