All We Need is Just a Little Patience

I've succumbed to quoting Guns & Roses. Judge if you must, but, right now, it works.  "Said woman, take it slow, it will work itself out fine..."

Yesterday, I ran my longest training run for this marathon training cycle. I told myself going into it that I HAD to try and be patient and run it slow. Training programs, online guides, coaches, books on running, and even blog-o-sphere amateurs (literally EVERYONE) recommends that you run your long runs S.L.O.W. REALLY, Really, slow...like an entire minute (or more!) slower than race pace. Run slow, take it easy, and get your body ready for the time it takes to complete the race. The theory is you are building your endurance for race day. Slower=Easier, right?? Um, yeah, not for some of us. Namely, me.

Patience and I are not friends. Pretty much. Now, Blue Cheese and I, on the other hand...but I'm getting distracted, and, now I'm hungry, too. Anyway, my point (I had a point...maybe?), was that it is hard to not want to run these long runs faster than 1 minute slower than pace. Why not? I feel fine 25 or 30 seconds slower than pace, and then I'm all done SO much sooner. Which means more time for enjoying other things, like, well, Blue Cheese. Duh.

But, alas, not being patient has hurt me before in races, so...I promised (cross my heart, and hope to die) myself that yesterday I would run slower. I hoped I wouldn't actually die---for certain, the largest risk being uncontrolled boredom. Believe it or not, I lived to tell the story about running a slow-paced long run. Took FOREVER. 3 hours, 18 minutes (23.16 miles) to be exact. And, I ran 35-40 seconds slower than race pace. Ok fine, it wasn't a full minute, but as close as I could manage. I was kind-of, sort-of, a little bit PATIENT. Let's just say that I was “patient-ish.”

I have no trouble being patient when I'm not the one running. The last few weekends, I've been a spectator at several races. I LOVE being at races, even when I'm not running. The Shamrock Run last weekend was filled with runners of all abilities and ages. It's fun to see the top finishers sleek their way across the line, the mid-packers who run their hearts out for a PR, and even those people who almost don running shoes and spandex shuffling, huffing and making their way down Naito Parkway. This year, for us, the Shamrock Run was all about Jude (our 9 year-old) racing for the first time in a 5K.

I won't lie and say that the 12-week Couch-to-5K training program was easy, fun, and always filled with laughter for Jude. Just like I won't lie and say that natural childbirth doesn't hurt. I'm not the woman who says, "just a tickle, some pressure, then the baby crowned." HA! Well, back to the running stuff.

Many of the training runs were fun, but, there were times when he REALLY didn't want go. He'd rather have done homework, cleaned his room, or given the dog a bath than gone running. Seriously. As we reminded Jude of his commitment to the race, I often thought about the life lesson he would be learning by slowly training for something, and then accomplishing something he didn't think he could possible finish. Wowness, right? Well, at times, it didn't feel like it. It feel a bit like forced coercion.

As it turned it out, however, Jude's Race Day was awesome. He ran the whole way, and he ran faster than he had on any of his training runs. Race day really can bring out the competitor in every racer. For now, Jude is enjoying his "off-season." I overheard him saying he*might* consider another 5K race this summer with Grandma M. My mother, a 61 year-old ex-smoker, jogging along with my son. Now that, I would love to watch.

Scott, Easter Bunny and Maya

Today, we got to watch Scott finish up at the Hop Hop Half Marathon. What a beautiful morning for a race! I was so excited to see how he would do today as the race conditions were perfect, and he had been training hard for this race. He nabbed a HUGE (I mean almost three minutes!!) PR. The course also allowed for gorgeous views of the Colombia River, and Scott got to mingle with the Easter Bunny while sipping a yummy Mimosa. How many people can say that?? Not many.

The last few weeks have left me feeling really proud of the accomplishments of my family. Both Jude and Scott have raced their best and Race Day brought their best running abilities to the fore front. They've both really inspired me to race well next month. The new and improved “patient-ish” me is ready to put myself to the test.  "...Said, sugar, take the time 'cause the lights are shining bright."

What is hard or challenging for YOU in running/racing? Are you able to hold back on training runs, but still dig deep when the time comes?

Do you have your sights set on finishing a new distance? Or improving in a certain area (like speed or running longer endurance training runs)? 

Running with stitches, and yearning for beaches

Maybe, it's the Wasabi Peas talking (yes, those little spicy crunchers are a favorite snack. And, yes, I pretend they are healthy), but this has been a tough last couple of days.

On Thursday, I hurt myself in the kitchen. I admit it. I was daydreaming AND in a hurry. This was a terrible combination. Apparently, my common sense had also checked out. I was using a hand blender to quickly chop some spinach a little more fine for casserole, and when it invariably got clogged up, I put my left index finger amongst the blades. That's when it happened. Yep. I didn't unplug it, and I didn't use a fork. And, my right hand bumped the switch. Whirrzz, went the blade. FUCK! went me. Yes, I knew it was Bad. Bad. Bad. How could I be so Dumb. Dumb. Dumb?? I was embarrassed more than anything else.

The story continued with my kids being sweet and helpful (bringing me band-aids and stirring the dinner). Then my wonderful family ended up taking me to Urgent Care for 6 stitches, Oh, and a Tetanus shot, too. The only cool part was when the nurse took my vitals and was impressed with my 45 BPM heart rate. “Long distance runner?” Why yes. I mean sort of, anyway.  After all, a low heart rate is about the only thing I have in common with Kara Goucher. But, I'll take it.

Anyway, my first question to the doctor was to make sure I could run my 10K race on Saturday. This was the second of seven races for the ORRC 10K Series. He said, “Oh, I wouldn't restrict you from anything like that.”. Thank goodness. I didn't bother to ask about the 20-miler I had planned for Sunday. Should be fine. No problemo, right?
 

Thursday night, after the local anesthetic wore off, my finger hurt. A ton. Like so much that I couldn't stop thinking about it. My nice husband brought me some ibuprofen. Good stuff that took the pain down a bit, but I still didn't sleep all that well. I took 2 of those little pills every 4 hours for the next 24 hours. It helped, but by the end of the day, this finger still throbs, stings, and swells a little.



My race bib, award medal, & bandaged finger

This week, of course, my marathon training plan required a 20 mile long run. Given, my experience with "two-timer training", I decided to do it after the race. Saturday's race day came. I didn't take any ibuprofen because I didn't want it to affect my race performance. The finger didn't really hurt, just stung a little during the race. A fellow racing friend tried to give me a low five on the out-and-back course---but I avoided it because THAT certainly would have hurt. The race was tough, and not a PR, but I ran as fast as I could and I ended up finishing as the 3^rd woman overall. My finger started hurting again that evening. Figures. I was hoping it was all better. Yea..um, No. At least it was AFTER the race, right?

On Sunday morning, I got up at 6 am, filled my hydration belt and my handheld water bottle with water and coconut water (decided to give it a try) gathered my selected flavors of GU—today, it was Chocolate Mint and Vanilla Bean. I also made sure I used plenty of Body Glide to avoid any chaffing (somehow I ALWAYS seem to find a new place I forgot), Then, I headed out the door for my 20 mile long run. It was kind of cold, 30-degrees, but crisp, no rain and some nice sun breaks on the latter half. Amazingly, my legs weren't really sore. I guess all the extra stretching, foam rolling, and massage I had done really did help. Another good lesson learned.

After the run, which ended up being 21 miles, my feet felt achy, sore, and completely worn out like the meat my kids chew but refuse to swallow (gross, I know, but true). My finger was stingy and my left shoulder where I got the tetanus shot ached. I felt like I'd been beat up by an army of killer rodents who liked to bite and knew Karate. Solution? Ice bath.

I jumped into my bathtub for a nice ice bath (that's a joke since ice baths are torture) which is situated upstairs an is the place where my kids take their baths and showers. I swear the cold water was colder today. I hyperventilated more than usual, and never seemed to get “used” to it. Damn. I wanted to put my finger in the water to see if would feel good on it, but decided against it. Doc said to keep it “dry and covered.” Ok. Fine. As I laid there amongst the various unicorns, Lego men, and floating fish, my thoughts rested on an idea.

Yes. The Barbie Mermaids looked enchanting in their cute shell-shaped bikini tops, beaded necklaces and colorful hair. Vacation. Warm, sunny vacation. Ahh...

Some place sunny and warm

All the stress of this week made me really yearn for a relaxing, lay-on-the-beach or read-a-book-by-a- nice-pool-kind of trip. Mexico? Vegas? Or just over to Central Oregon? In reality, it doesn't even matter where. I am just dreaming of a relaxing time where my body aches and pains are just the normal running-related ones I'm used to, and that my usual common sense goes back to normal.

Hagg Lake Mud Run: Race Report

This weekend we finished the Hagg Lake Mud Run. There are two races over the weekend: a 50K on Saturday and a 25K on Sunday. We chose the sane option and ran the 25K, which is one loop around Hagg Lake in Gaston, Ore. (starting with a fun little out-and-back up and down a steep gravel road). Melissa did the race last year, but this was my first time.

We'd been closely watching the weather reports prior to the race, as just about any amount of rain would mean lots of mud, but things stayed dry enough through Saturday that the 50K runners set some new course records. Sunday morning at the start line, they announced it had rained overnight which drew a cheer from the hardcore folks.

The morning was absolutely beautiful with lots of blue sky reflected in the calm lake waters. The temperature was about 38F, which meant shorts and gloves for me. We checked in on the iPads, picked up our race bibs and shirts and headed back to the car to strip down to racing clothes. After a quick jog warm-up and a trip to the porta-potties, we joined the growing pack at the race start

The Race

The first mile and a half of Hagg Mud run is not muddy at all. Instead, it's all paved path or gravel road. Just to warm you up, the course takes you up then back down a nice hill on Sain Creek Road. From there, it's back through the picnic area and onto the trail along the west side of Hagg Lake.

Things then get interesting quickly; the west side of the lake is damp and dark, with a lot of short ups-and-downs.  Trail running in itself is more challenging than road running, not only because you have to watch out for roots, rocks, and holes, but also because your legs are constantly trying to adjust to uneven footing.  When you add slippery mud to the mix, it turns into a full-body (and mind) workout.  I actually like this, because the level of concentration required to stay upright lets you free your mind from many other thoughts.  At one point about three miles in, I was passed by a woman who called out, “I think I feel a wipeout coming on!” Thankfully she didn't fall, but the next few miles could easily have taken someone down.

At the south end of the lake, around mile five, the trail climbs out onto the paved road to cross the Scoggins Creek dam. The aid station just past the dam had quite a spread (in addition to the always awesome ORRC volunteers). There was not only water and Gatorade, but pretzels, candy, and even peanut butter sandwiches. I'm a peanut butter sandwich junky, but I wasn't feeling hungry at all and wasn't sure my stomach could handle the food. Water it was, then back to the trail.

The east side of the lake is lighter and brighter than the west side. It gets a lot more sun due to its orientation (I actually studied that very thing at that very place in college!), so the mud isn't quite as wet.  The east side is also much more hilly.  I may have just been tired, but it seemed like I was climbing, then climbing some more, and then, lo and behold, there was another hill! I still haven't figured out why I didn't see any yeti or get buzzed by a plane.

Looking fresh as a spring rain...

Just as all good things must come to an end, so too all ascents have a descent (just ask that Grand Old Duke). These particular descents were often abrupt, and there were a few where I literally lost control and just quick-stepped down the hill. On an ordinary trail run, these might be fun, if technical, and you'd just have to be careful. For the Mud Run, these became, “Oh-sh*t-I-have-no-traction-I-hope-I-don't-die!” After the first couple, I just learned to commit and hope for the best. If only I had video of the look on my face…

Once (most of) the steep hills were out of the way, the course descended to near the water level (which meant real mud). The contours here seemed to indicate that the 50K racers were using motorcycles the day before.  Much of the trail had one muddy rut down the middle with a slippery ridge on the left side.  A woman in front of me tried to avoid the mud by running on the ridge, but I think she lost her footing more often than I did.

Some of the long stretches of open grassy meadows had me imagining a romanticized English countryside, and I half expected to see some sheep or perhaps fairies. Was I tired enough yet to hallucinate?  Somewhere in here I came upon a very friendly runner helping a woman who was sprawled out on her back across the trail.  She had fallen going up a short but ridiculously slick hill. I almost fell twice just climbing up to where she was.

At the second aid station, it was time for a Gel, with which I slowly drank some water to give my legs a brief rest. From there, it was short stretch on the paved road and on to the muddiest part of the run. (Yes, I said it. The rest of the race can't compare.)

I don't remember too much between the aid station and the end except being extremely tired and thinking, “how the hell can someone run through this?!” There was a section of muddy trail where I actually thought I might fall and just stay down. The mud was the consistency of cake batter, and probably five inches deep. There was no solid ground anywhere and my shoes were nearly sucked off my feet. If someone had seen me weaving my way drunkenly through that area, having given up on ever finding secure footing, I imagine they might have called for a doctor.

At some point you go up one more hill and back onto the road. I suddenly felt relatively normal, though still very tired with suddenly cramping quads. I actually passed a woman on the hill, which I wasn't sure I could do.  At the top, the course turns back to trail with a short, steep and muddy switchback down into the woods. I believe my exact words (out loud) were, “Oh for God’s sake, are you kidding me?”

But I did it, and I kept running. Sure, I walked a few more hills, and stumbled once or twice. One time I thought I'd missed a turn in my reverie and started to go back to make sure. Breathing a sigh of relief, I saw a pack of people coming around the bend. Indeed, the woman I'd just passed on the road gave me a big smile as I joined them, which was pretty uplifting.

At that point, we were close to the end. I pushed up the last little hill, where an encouraging photographer said, "only about a half mile to go!"  A short but very focused jaunt (heh) through a parking lot and some trees and there was the finish line.  I wandered off for a minute or two to by myself, bent over at the waist, feeling my heart racing, and trying to take in the beauty of the lake.  Mostly I was just glad to be done.  15.5 miles: my longest run ever.

It is just the road home

Yogi Berra said, "ninety percent of this game is half-mental."  I think he was talking about the game of baseball, but I can't think of a better statement regarding running or endurance sports, in general.

In the land of endurance sports, there is a concept that is tossed around a great deal. Some people refer to it as "mental toughness." What is mental toughness? To me: it's about not letting your mind stand in the the way of what your body is capable.

During the a difficult workout, a steep hill, or even long run, the mind might be saying "You can't do this. You need to stop." But, success in pushing through that is in being able to turn all of the negative chatter in your head off. People who are truly successful athletes not only have the physical talent, but all of the mental ability to turn the brain onto "silent mode."

I never really understood the mental side of running when I was younger. Back in those early days, I ran to think and relax, to get away from the stress of being a teen. I didn't have any talent as runner, and I didn't run to push the physical limits and therefore, I didn't need any mental toughness. I often told myself not to run too hard, or I might not finish or worse, I might have to WALK. Fear of failure held me back.

For the last month or so, I've been running with my 9-year-old son, Jude. I have this desire to try an impart the "wisdom" of mental toughness to him. But, I really didn't know how to make him get it. Our first lesson came just the other day.

He's been following the Couch to 5K program, rather faithfully, I might add. This program progressively adds more running to a run/walk program. A few days ago, we were approaching our street on our way to finishing up a few miles of run/walk. He said, "Oh, no! We are going to have to run on our street to home. I don't want to run up the hill. I don't think I can make it!" He desperately wanted to walk the last 200 yards home.

He was tired. He was really feeling the run on his legs that day.

I said, "Don't think if it as a hill. It's just the road home." I've used these words in my own head, so many times. I've told them to Scott, too.

How can you "NOT" think about it? How can not listen to the burning legs, screaming lungs, and the feeling gravity pulling your body down instead of up the hill---begging and imploring you to stop, or at least slow down?

It's easy to say. Sure. It's much harder to actually do. It's not just easy for me to ignore reason. Yes, it's a hill, but I doesn't have to be hard.

Convince your mind that the hill is easy. Float, breath, relax.

It is hard to do this. SO HARD. Since we live around a ton of hills, I get regular practice, especially with hills. But, it doesn't always come easily.

Changing your mindset about anything isn't easy.

It reminds me of this:

Gotta love Barney Stinson. Anyway, ok, here's my version. "When I feel like slowing down on a hill, I cruise up it like it was flat nothing instead. True story." --Me

Your brain can be tricked, trained to simply ignore what is in front of it. Focus on keeping a steady pace, a mantra, counting your footfalls, or maybe just turn up a revved tune on your music player. Focus on something else. Anything else.

That day, when Jude was facing his dreaded uphill road to home, I said, "focus on moving your arms smoothly, count your steps and set your eyes on our mailbox and run straight to it."  He ran home faster and harder than he had during the rest of the 25 minutes we had been out there.

I want to teach him to embrace the route, the path, the journey that he is on---no matter how difficult it seems at the time. We have to decide that there truly is no route that is too hard. Only an unwilling mind can stand between you and that mountain in the distance.

Chicked

Sunday was the annual Oregon Roadrunners Club awards banquet.  Surprising no one, Melissa won several awards, including Runner of the Year.  Melissa is a fast runner.  She might deny it, or point out that she's no elite and that lots of women are faster than her. But let's face it: in a club full of runners, if you win more often than anyone else, you must be pretty fast.



Awards, schmawards...

So first, obviously, congratulations to her.  She's pretty humble about it, but I think it's damn awesome.  That said, I'm not here to talk her up--she doesn't need it and I know she doesn't run to get recognized.  Her award did remind me, though, of something I've been meaning to post about for a while.

My wife is a fast runner, as I said.  She's quite a bit faster than me and has been for a long time.  (The last time I beat her was in a 2009 race--and I was ahead at the end by only by two seconds!  I think she had the flu or something...)  But comparing her speed to mine is a little silly.  Sure, compared to the average Joe off the couch or the weekend warrior who runs the occasional 5K, I run at a decent speed.  The reality is that are a lot of guys out there who are a lot faster than me and if a few of them show up for a race I'm not going to win a damn thing.  The point is, I don't consider myself fast.

However, people will still inevitably ask, "doesn't it bother you that your wife is faster?"  They might even assume I'm joking at first.  Then when I explain how often she places in the top five or that she qualified for Boston, that's when they start worrying about my ego.  One friend actually told me he "couldn't handle it" if his wife were faster--and he said it with an air of sincerity.  I'm not quite sure what that means he would do.  Would he just quit running altogether and pursue a truly manly hobby  ("let's see you grow a beard this luxurious, Wife!")?  Would he jump off a bridge in despair, hoping he was as poor a swimmer as he imagined himself to be a runner (let's hope he wasn't rescued by a female firefighter)? 

I think for some men it might be similar to having a wife who earns more money, or has a higher-status job than they do. People always talk about the fragile male ego, and this kind of thing does make me wonder.  How often do other men speed up just so they pass a woman?  Do they feel inadequate when a woman finishes before they do?

I really don't know, because it doesn't bother me at all.  My wife is her own runner and so am I--I don't run to keep up with her.  It's odd, because it seems to me that most runners to respect the individual ability of other runners.  In my experience, once you get out there on a regular basis, especially if you enter races fairly often, you start to leave your ego at home.  I've been beaten by a 10-year-old girl and a 70-year-old man.  I've also finished ahead of plenty of men younger and slimmer than me--but I don't really think about it.  Yet you hear about guys not wanting to "get chicked" (or even "wifed"), which is apparently a common enough event in long distance races. 

At the end of a race, the only thing that matters to me is giving it everything I have.  Man or woman, if I'm close to another runner near the finish, I'm going to dig deep because I am at least a little competitive.  I can't imagine finding some hidden sexist reserve of energy that would propel me that much faster.  So to imagine that I'd be bothered by my wife finishing...ahem...four or five minutes ahead of me in a 10K, well, it's just silly.  I'm happy for her, just as I know she's happy for me when I do well.

Plus, when I'm running behind her when she's wearing her running tights...well...nevermind.

Confessions of a Two-Timer

Don't let the title get you wondering. I mean, yes, I am totally two-timing, right now. AGAIN. And, honestly, it's a little hard serving two masters. Sometimes, there is a bit of symbiotic relationship to love two at the same time, right? Some things are even better together---like Paul Newman and this Pinot Noir. I love Paul Newman, and I love wine, so it's a three-some made in heaven. Seriously, it is. Please don't question my devotion to Paul Newman or my absolute love for fermented red grapes, it's a futile agrument. This one works. Well.

But, I wasn't really thinking about that kind of two-timing. No. Back in the summer, I was two-timing for the first time. I was training hard (so hard) for my first marathon (survived it in October), while at the same time staying steady with training for two 10Ks for the ORRC 10K Series. Most of the time, running is just running. You run. You run some more. You do long runs, tempo runs, hills, intervals. Usually, for 10K training, I run faster, shorter intervals than what would normally be called for in my marathon training plan. So, what is a runner to do?? Well, I just stuck with the marathon training plan, and hoped nothing bad would happen to my 10K race times. The training didn't have to change too much...until....I had a 10K race which required scaling back and tapering so I could run on "somewhat" fresh legs. But, I still had to get my mileage and training in for the marathon. I had to TWO running programs that I felt like I HAD to do! What to do??








These two guys helped to push me to my PR in September.
But, so did the two-timer training!

For the first 10K, I decided to do my "long run" on a Wednesday before work, 18 miles with 9 mile runs on both Tuesday and Thursday so that I could to rest my legs before a 10K on Monday(labor day). Truth be told, my legs were super tired for that 10K. I'd already run 45 miles that week BEFORE I ran another 6.2. So, I had to be smarter about my" two-timing" the next time. In September, I ran some extra miles at the beginning of the week, tapered back before the race, and saved the long run for AFTER the race. I ran my heart out---faster and stronger than ever, and got a PR. BUT, I had to run 16 miles the next day. My training journal says, "tough on tired legs." The race was better, the long run wasn't. But, that's how I guess it goes with two-timing.

Maybe like most two-timers, I have realized that I can't really give my complete love and attention to both, but I can play it smart and get something out of having the experience of both. On that note, I'm back at the two-timing game. Hagg Lake 25K in February, Champoeg 10K in March and Vernonia Marathon in April...then two more 10Ks in May. The game goes on!

Please don't judge me. The 10Ks know all about the marathons, and the half-marathons, even the trail racing I am doing, too. They are completely ok with it. I guess it's one of those "open" running relationships. :)

Caught in the Crosswalk not the Crossfire

This morning, I went for my usual Sunday 6 mile run. Sunday runs are quiet, slow, and usually a time for reflection about whatever is on my mind. It was a little bit slippery but the blue sky and the shining sun made up for any initial shivers.



Something has been on my mind. With

United Nations Disarmament Statue. UN Headquarters, NYC.

the shootings in Connecticut and being a mother of children who are in the age-range of the children who were brutally and senselessly murdered, thoughts about guns and schools have been weighing heavily on me. Those little faces have been on my mind. I don't want to get into too much talk about gun control---really, own one if you want. This I know, I ABSOLUTELY do not want armed guards at my children's school. I don't want to teach my kids that they need to live in fear and that they need to be protected by firearms against the terrible people of the world. I don't want to live in a police-state where every place we go there is someone standing ready to shoot someone else. Ugh, it's like a bad action movie. I've told my children that we don't own a gun because we don't want to shoot anyone. I'd rather think that I don't wish ill will toward anyone.


In fact just the other day, a friend of mine pointed out, "I thought you were 'Life is awesome Melissa?"' Yes, well, I try to be positive, but it wasn't always this way. Maybe it was working in the service industry in my early years (Taco Bell Cashier, Hostess at a Restaurant in the Airport!) that made me think that people were selfish, cheap, dirty, jerk-faces lacking any sense of manners or ability to treat the people serving them with human dignity. My dad used to say, "maybe working with 'the public' isn't for you??" Indeed, a nice job in the college library was more up my alley.


Nowadays, usually I find it pointless to dwell on the negative. Usually, I think that you have to look for the silver lining when you can because otherwise you can drown so easily in the bad things around you. But, that doesn't necessarily come naturally to me. Those jerks in the world can suck you in, and it's hard not to fall into the "hate-them-back" trap. My feelings about the lowness of humanity can come back even when I least expect it.

Like today.

I was waiting for the "WALK" signal at an intersection. After a few close calls with drivers, I am pretty cautious. So, today, I was on the right side of the road, and noted that there was a car waiting to turn LEFT (which would cross over the crosswalk I would soon be entering). His signal was a YIELD to oncoming traffic. I was oncoming "traffic." The light changed and I waited a moment to make sure this gent was going to YIELD to me. He didn't make a move, so I jumped off the curb and set off running in the crosswalk. I was about 1/3 of the way across AND, then, I saw him headed straight for me. I screamed, "Oh, shit!" put up my hands, and turned quickly to run back to the side where I was. He slowed down, BUT instead of letting me go, he drove right on through. It was my right-of-way. MINE! Adrenaline took over and I yelled a litany of profanities that would make a sailor blush. I was jumping up and down, flipping the bird. Beyond pissed.

My heart is racing just typing this story. Bastard. Mother-F*%ker!! What did he think he was doing? What a huge jerk!

And, it took me about a mile to think about what my friend had said to me. I'm the "silver-lining" person, right? What could I pull from this experience?  I really, really, wanted to think that guy was an asshole who didn't deserve to be driving. He should have his driver's licence revoked. Too bad, I was too busy yelling to notice his licence plate number. I am glad that I was paying attention and not blindly just running through since most of the time, I don't trust drivers to notice me. I didn't really trust this guy either, and that's probably why things worked out ok. I am not going to make excuses for this guy. HE WAS WRONG. But, I thought maybe his mind was elsewhere while he was driving and he didn't see me (obviously). Shoot, maybe his wife left him, or he was late for work, or his dog died?? Dang, sounds like a country song, but really, I am glad that one of us was paying attention. Me hating this guy probably won't make me feel any better.

Deep breaths. It's ok.

Even at the height of my emotional response to potentially getting run over, I didn't want to shoot that guy. Well, I kind of wanted to punch him for just a second. Does that make me a bad person?? Maybe. Thoughts aren't actions. I'd love to be one of those awesome Buddhist types who doesn't even consider retaliation and only looks to love that person who has done them wrong.  <HUGS>. Um, no, if threatened directly without any true means of peaceful escape, I would most certainly try to fight back. However, I'm pretty unlikely to throw the "first punch." Yes, I got mad at that guy today, but I'm not going to keep on getting mad at him. I'm not going to be afraid to run through crosswalks just because there are people out driving like this guy. We can only control our own actions and reactions to a situation.

That's the message I want to teach my children. I feel like I would do more damage teaching them to be afraid. I don't want my kids to feel like someone is going to come into their school to shoot them. That's the only reason why there would be an armed guard outside their classrooms to protect them. So, let's not make children more laden with anxiety and tension. I'd rather teach them an awareness about people who should be avoided, and how to show acceptance whenever possible to others--even those mean peers. Kill them with kindness? Yes, I think so.