The Road to Chicago

                                                            The 5 a.m. Run

     The morning air feels damp and still. No movement or wind, only darkness and heat.

It’s August in Florida.  Even in the pre-dawn hour such humid conditions pervade the surface of any object -blanketing it like molasses over a biscuit. It’s stifling.

I am awake at 4:30 a.m. with just enough time to put on my Nikes, hydrate and grab my iPod-Really, I’d rather be sleeping, but Chicago won’t wait. The difference between being an occasional runner or jogger and a marathoner is: the discipline it takes to run the extra miles-at whatever the cost. My “cost” is a couple less hours of sleep – which,they say, is way overrated when you train. 

Sleeping is for after the race, after the long run, after  . . . the word echoes in my mind as I change my iPod music and adjust my Garmin.  I’m OTD. #outthedoor.

     I am running across the street in a lit neighborhood that I live close to. Familiarity does wonders for the psyche in the daytime, but running in the darkness of the predawn hours gives way to the makings of a scary movie thriller. Padding down the road, I look around at my surroundings while adjusting my light. Every mailbox looks like a crouching dog, every unlit street light, a potential attacker – and every garbage can I pass wafts a putrid stench into the humid air; I hold my breath as I run by.

Determined to finish my 6 miles ~ I crank up my music (since I am only using one ear bud) and pick up the pace.  Really, I should be taking it easy since my longer runs take more effort and it’s only the beginning of the week. But fear is quite a motivator and my Garmin clocks my pace at a 7 minute mile. . . I don’t expect too many knife wielding assailants to move at this speed or at this time in the morning, but hey, I could be {dead} wrong.

      I round the corner and see a familiar house that abuts my street: I’m on the home stretch. No sprinting for me though– I “spent” it all while fleeing from my imaginary attackers. Maybe I should consider this my speed work for the week and call it done.

Entering my home dripping with sweat, I unload my gear onto the front room table feeling quite satisfied: not only have I’ve abated my imaginary attackers-but the terrifying numbers of the bathroom scale as well!

Never Shall I Forget

“Never Shall I Forget” –

Not my kind of sleepwear

Penned and immortalized by Nobel Peace Prize winner Elie Wiesel, these words echo the travesty he endured while living inside the darkened gray walls of a Nazi concentration camp. His life’s work has been to bring awareness to the injustice borne to the Jewish population during the dictatorship of Adolph Hitler.

     I own a few of the books written by Mr. Wiesel- in his novel “The Night” the  imagery, dark language and descriptive accounts of the horrors that occurred within the camp made me sick inside. From that book, I learned the meaning of hatred expressed in the form of brutal torture.

     There are also many books about the Holocaust and a few movies. One story in particular, The Boy in the Striped Pajamas, depicts the friendship between two young boys who happen to see each other through a barbed wire fence in an isolated work camp. They become fast friends -in spite of their circumstances, for they know not the meaning of prejudice. The story was based on truth and demonstrates innocence, camaraderie and loyalty in the face of all that seems hard and cruel.  

The meaning of Friendship

   Our freedoms and the people who helped to foster them bear the responsibility of being remembered not just on certain “holidays” – but the“in-between-days” as well. Liberty-taken for granted may lull some people into forgetting those whose lives were deeply scarred while laying this foundation.

     If we choose apathy over action, ourselves over our neighbor, our own agenda over the betterment of our community – then mankind begins a slow decaying process.

                                 No voice, no cry goes unheard.

She ~Who Likes to Play...

She ~ who likes to play…

     

My adorable Lab mix is insanely playful at times! If I am engrossed in writing something she will come up and nudge her nose under my writing arm and insist that I stop and throw a ball to her. It’s her way of saying that I need a break!  Funny thing is, she is usually right…

    Carlie enjoys a car ride as much as any excited 2 year old ~ she hops right into the front passenger seat and stares out the window at all the other cars. Occasionally she sees what she considers a “mean person” or a would be robber- then into a barking frenzy she goes! Usually she calms down after we speed up and pass the perpetrator but only after I promise her a treat.

     Countless times I have taken her with me to the store at night and she waits in the car while I make a quick errand. Mind you ~ she enjoys the scenery and the ride, and I enjoy the fact that I feel safe when I walk to my car and get in. Oftentimes I am asked If I would like help out to my car with my groceries but I usually decline because Carlie does not favor “ bag boys”…she sees them as a threat. I try to tell her that they just want to help me, but she’s just a little protective of me. #iamsothankful!

     All in all, having a canine like Carlie makes for good company ~she knows when I need a break and I know when she would like a “T-R-E-A-T”! Here’s to more car rides and trips to Starbucks!!