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!!

I Am ~

      I am a runner ~ so they say, but not in the traditional sense. Not a competitive person by nature, running affords me the luxury of eating chocolate and enjoying the benefits of good health.




Carlie~a bad case of "Black Toe"

     When I run solo, my running companion is a black lab mix named Carlie. Flanked by her on one side and with my iPod secured to my opposite arm, I meet my daily mileage quota beating the streets of my own neighborhood.



     Of late however, Carlie is hesitant about going outside. I am not sure if the loud trucks intimidate her as we cross a busy divided highway to get to our starting point, or that she simply prefers the clay/grass trail to asphalt pavement.



     After our last four miler, she acted like her feet were sore- (don’t laugh – it’s true!) A careful observation of her paws revealed that the pads appeared, dry, cracked and raw and I immediately applied a soothing salve. Since then, Carlie has been less enthusiastic about running on pavement, though I can still manage to coax her with the promise of a ‘treat!’

     We are similar in that way: I am one who looks for a reward in my daily goals…and while Carlie’s is a meal bone ~ mine is dark chocolate!  Aaahh- it is the Sweetness of life♪♫



A New Lease on Life

A Journey Through the {final} Stages of Unemployment

                      Welcome Back to My Blog~



So I begin...(again)

     After taking nearly a year off from writing/blogging I realized that I am not one to leave unfinished business. So I thought it best to move forward with my life by ending the chronicles of “A Journey through the Stages of Unemployment.” Here is my last journal entry regarding My Journey. I hope you enjoyed reading the stages….
     Grief or the act of grieving, causes the heart to respond in different ways. Some say that grieving must occur to process the devastating situations that life throws at us. According to psychologists there are several stages of grief, though all may not agree specifically on their precise order ~the implied directive is that one must walk through the steps to obtain healing...
     And so I have walked... through turmoil, doubt and disappointment.What I have found is nothing short of what is normal for every human being: the need for validation and approval. I have found that I am just like a million other Americans who scrambled for stability when their employment world was rocked. I saw myself behave in irrational ways contemplating ideas fueled by desperation.
     When the mental fog of uncertainty dissipated I caught a glimpse of my inner strength: it was lying beneath my character - sore from a post employment boxing match. Though my inner strength had had a massive work out, from it was born a purpose to move forward.
     The epiphany put a glow on my face and a deep inner peace which prompted me to reach out and touch other hurting people. During this transformation I studied and read up on the Holocaust which led me to advocate for children; I became certified as a Guardian ad Litem. I also did pro Bono sewing for young mothers and offered my education and administrative assistance to a local church.

     Busy making the world a better place through advocacy and volunteer work, I channeled my skill set investing in worthwhile causes. Just as I was considering a volunteer position as a teacher at the Center for The Blind- my story changed: I received a call to return to the workforce. Imagine that!

     I would be remiss if I failed to mention how much I learned about myself during my 11 month hiatus from the corporate world. Thankful, appreciative, and humbled are a few adjectives that come to mind.

     It has been a Journey filled many emotions and personal struggle. Yet in its finality, the Journey of Acceptance was the stage which produced the greater good in me. I am eternally thankful for being given another opportunity to be employed in America’s workforce.

                                                Here’s to a new chapter in my life…..