long may you run.

There is a fair amount of fear and trepidation leading up to running a marathon. Almost every Saturday for the past five months I would find myself at the outset of a "long run," nervous and uneasy as I took the first steps towards completing a distance further than I had ever run before. Towards the end of training, when long runs would be upwards of 18 miles the anxious feeling would begin in the middle of the week. Doubts and fears and dread would start to creep into my mind -- "can I really run that far?" or "what if I can't run 18 miles? i signed up for a race where I'll have to run for more than hour after I complete 18 miles..." and yet, each week in the midst of the uneasiness I would run (and walk) and cover the necessary distance. I really loved the process.
I attended a dinner the night before the marathon where John Bingham, a well known 'back of the pack' runner and columnist for Runner's World magazine, spoke. He warned that the 2 questions that marathoners would be asked after the race would be 1. did you win? and 2. how fast did you run? This invoked a bit more anxiety as I knew my time would not be anything particularly stellar. Interestingly enough I haven't been asked either of those questions. Instead, the most common inquiry has been: What do you think about when you are running for that long? Perhaps my friends and family know me well enough to skip the first two questions.
I'm not sure that I've really adequately answered that question. I think I've said "Oh, I think about this and that" and then explained that you get to a point where all you can think about is putting one foot in front of the other and finishing. This past week I've been really processing the marathon -- there is so much to think about, certainly one of the life experiences that I will not soon forget or fully appreciate. I read a blog post on Runner's World today that I think puts some words and thoughts to the answer I've been trying to come up with. What do I think about when I run? Well, sometimes I think about how much I love the place where I live and the sights and sounds and smells that surround me, about how much I enjoy being outside, about how much I love stomping through mud puddles on a trail run after it has rained and about how grateful I am to have a day where I can be outdoors. Sometimes when long runs seems particularly difficult and painful, I'm reminded of others who are going through tough times, I think about those facing sickness or those who have been hit hard by the economic downturn, about faces I've seen in other countries who represent hunger and being voiceless and being marginalized. I pray for strength to keep going. Every once in a while though, late into a run the pain will dissolve and I feel strong and able to finish. During those moments I think of hope and strength and how beautiful both of those things are. I think of the people I love and how grateful I am that they are cheering me on as I run and in life. I cherish those moments and try to dwell in them.

This may sound outrageously cheesy to the non-runner (6 months ago i would have scoffed at this), but a group of women running the marathon had on shirts that said "The woman who begins the race is not the same woman that finishes the race." There is strength and courage to be discovered, there is ground to cover and others to cheer on. As Joanie Benoit Samuelson, the first olympic gold medalist in the women's marathon, said at the dinner the night before the race -- "God bless you and long may you run."

shamrock

"Don't worry honey, it will all be better tomorrow."

A kind middle aged man watching me hobble up stairs at the oceanfront

We did it! Erin and I ran a fairly eventful 13.1 miles and Ryan completed his first marathon! Here is a picture of when running Shamrock seemed like a good idea: "Oh how fun, let's get our race gear ready!"

Now picture this: You have just run further than you have ever run in your entire life. You are in a significant amount of pain, digging through your race goodie bag looking for a beer ticket while hobbling towards the after party tent. You question whether you can make it all the way to the finish line festivities, but you trudge onward. At this moment, what is one thing that could make you incredibly happy in the most unexpected sort of way?

What's that? Did you say Bryan Hodges as the beer guy, smiling by the keg of Yeungling?

Yes, that's it. I couldn't have been happier to see Mr. B.

We really did have a great run yesterday. And I can't believe Ryan ran a marathon! I knew he would be able to do it, but good gracious 26.2 miles is a long way.

Ryan and the Hatcher men were on their yearly March madness trip last week, so we had an episode of 30 Rock on the dvr and of course the season finale of John and Kate plus 8 was tonight. We have been parked on the couch, triaging blisters and popping Advil (and hoping the best for the bone scan in the morning). Also, discussing what marathon is next. New York or San Francisco, who's in?


Holy cow that is one for the record books. (Just to be clear, that is Ryan's foot.)

garden

I've been reading Square Foot Gardening for weeks and am so excited that the little garden has come together. Dad gathered the boards and mulch and dirt and compost and the whole family came over Sunday afternoon to make it happen. I made friends with two older gentlemen that work at a little garden shop near my office. Lately it's been my favorite lunchtime adventure. I go and buy the weirdest seeds that they have. I feel I may be setting myself up for disaster - first of all, I have no idea what I'm doing so there is only like a 50% chance something will actually grow and second if they do grow, who is actually going to eat a white beauty eggplant?

This sounds suspiciously similar to the pumpkin soup disaster. I like making unusual foods, really enjoy it. The only problem is that the finished product is often inedible. Now I'm just taking it back a step further.

Tonight we planted our first little transplants, a few weeks behind the curve, but nevertheless they are in the ground.

I am excited to experience the way gardening punctuates seasons in a tangible, productive, connected way. Unless a rabbit comes and eats all of my baby lettuces tonight. I keep peeking out the window making sure they are all still there. So far so good.

friday goodness.

enough said.

Thanks Meg for sending this gem my way.

ryan's first day of work

Today is Ryan's first day of work in his new job! This is his first job where he has to head to the office each morning and last night he mentioned how this is really his first day of work ever. I felt that we should document this momentous occasion. So in the vein of first day of kindergarden photos, here is Ryan's first day of work:




Go get 'em tiger.



We are so incredibly grateful for this job. Ryan has been job hunting for several months and we really are thankful that this opportunity has come along!

Anyone want to do a marathon?

return to ramen

After a delightful run around Mount Trashmore last night Ryan and I headed to Bottom Dollar to pick up some cheese for our taco dinner. Now, Bottom Dollar is not exactly the most immaculate grocery store I've ever been in, but man do they have some good deals. Last night I found myself with childlike glee when I discovered that Ramen noodles were on sale for 9 cents. Nine cents! Less than a dime! I've had the appropriate period of separation from Ramen -- during finals one semester of college I basically only ate Ramen and Moon Pies (courtesy of an exams care package from Mom) and I haven't been able to tolerate the noodles chocked full of sodium ever since. But last night the prospect of two weeks of lunch costing less than a dollar just seemed too good to pass up. We we bought our Ramen and went on our merry way. Day 1 Ramen lunch here I come.

I am still perplexed, however, as to how they are able to get 7 grams of saturated fat into a package of dried carbohydrates and sodium. Oh, the mysteries of processed food.

(photo via thisnext.com)

snow day

But where are the snows of yester year?

Francois Billon, Ballade des Dames du Temps Jadis

After a conference finished at work last week, it was time for a snow day. The Weather Channel was actually calling for snow (100% chance), but in true Virginia Beach style the snow never came. The children of the 757 rejoiced anyways since school was cancelled at the chance of snow. Classic.



Ryan and I had already made plans to head out of town to see some real snow. And by real snow I mean man made snow. Nevertheless, it was white and frozen and it did the trick. I can't remember the last time I went skiing. Probably with Club Snow in high school when I had a crush on Ryan. Please take note of our one picture from the mountain, thank you Ryan for closing your eyes.

mr. fix-it

"Make it work."

-Tim Gunn, Project Runway

One of the many reasons that I love my husband is his incredible ability to fix things. I mean he tore apart our home (in the renovation process) and then put it back together and made it so wonderful. He really is so good at fixing and repairing things.

So when he stepped on his video game headset and cracked it into two pieces, it really wasn't a problem at all. First, he tried super glue. No luck. Then he tried getting me to apply super glue while he held the two pieces of headset together. Apparently two pieces of plastic cannot be attached using super glue. Ryan wasn't discouraged. "Why not tie the headset to my head with my ipod cord?" he thought.

Clearly. Great solution, Ryan. I think I laughed for 20 minutes straight when I walked into the den and saw this:

merry christmas

A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,

For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices!

Oh night divine, the night when Christ was born;

O night, O Holy Night, O night divine!

Truly he taught us to love one another,

His law is love and his Gospel is peace.

Chains shall he break, for the slave is our brother.

And in his name all oppression shall cease.

Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,

Let all within us praise his holy name.

Merry Christmas!

(images from the National Gallery, December 20, 2008)

commonplace

"Commonplaces never become tiresome. It is we who become tired when we cease to be curious and appreciative."

Norman Rockwell

Have you ever stopped and looked at a Norman Rockwell print? I hadn't until recently. I have memories of a glass cabinet at my grandma's house in Pennsylvania where my Grandpa Russell displayed plates with Rockwell prints and old Saturday Evening Post magazines. I wasn't too interested in them as a kid and don't remember ever stopping to look at them. I wish I had.

In November my dad and I went to the opening of the Norman Rockwell exhibit at the Chrysler. My expectations were low. To be quite honest I enjoy scoffing at cartoonish art and prefer the ornate style of Italian Renaissance art -- this is art that is both thought provoking in deeply spiritual ways and also breathtakingly beautiful with delicate, lacy gold details. There is this room in the Louvre, you go up the stairs towards the Winged Victory and then you turn right and go through this corridor lined with incredible Giotto pieces and frescoes and then you enter into this mesmorizing Italian Renaissance room. Each time I find myself in that room I feel small and simple, in awe of the ability of beauty to communicate true, eternal things.

So Dad and I went to see Norman Rockwell and I was taken aback by his work. So simple, yet incredibly communicative and stylized. Commonplace and yet not the least bit trite or cliche. I couldn't quite put my finger on what drew me into the exhibit. Was it his depiction of faces? The way he uses the face as a means of evocating emotion? Certainly that was something I've been thinking about often these past weeks. The paintings recalled faces from deep in my memory -- loved ones, children in need, leaders of our countries. But that didn't seem like the thing that was drawing me in. We enjoyed the exhibit for an hour or so and then decided our ability to appreciate it was saturated and we exited although we had not seen one room in the back was the exhibit.

Tonight we went back to the museum. I was feeling slightly off-kilter, loose ends left undone from work pulled for my attention. The nagging feeling that days are just flying by without acknowledgement as busyness has crept in and pauses and rest and opportunities to notice beauty have been pushed out. The weather was warm, not at all Christmas-like and I have yet to really feel settled into the holidays. These thoughts swirled in my mind as I walked into the Chrysler. The atmostphere inside is always warm and inviting, but this evening felt especially so. The most beautiful evergreen roping glowing with white twinkle lights was draped down the staircases and a tree formed from gorgeous red pointsettas was set to the side in the main room. The wonderfully simply, elegant decorations felt comforting and reorienting. Dad went to get two glasses of wine and we sat and talk and kept saying how pretty the museum looked. We finished our wine and headed into the Rockwell exhibit, into that back room that we had left unexplored during the previous visit.

The room is painted a vibrant yellow and each wall holds a portion of Rockwell's 353 magazine covers. Some of the covers are from actual magazines, mailed to subscribers. They sit in simple frames and they hold still shots of wonderfully American, wonderfully human moments. A girl holding up her prom dress looking in a mirror, a family saying grace before dinner, a young girl self-scrutinizing as a beauty magazine lay open on her lap. I started thinking about these shared moments, about the ways that the magazine images conjured memories from my own life. The anticipation of Christmas as a child, the joys of summer, long car rides torturing my little brother on our way to my grandparents house. It was such a neat experience to walk around this room, to see framed moments and memories and to see things I have not yet experienced which I look forward to. I'm learning slowly that the commonplace is not necessarily cliche, but instead that it is shared experiences and moments. And, I'm learning that a great deal of joy comes from these simple, ordinary moments.

So, may your Christmas season be filled with wonderful, ordinary moments. And may you find great joy and great awe and wonder in each of them.


Ok fine, and may it also be filled with a few beautifully ornate and grand moments as well.

(images via www.normanrockwell.com and nrm.org)

oh christmas tree, oh christmas tree!

We're kicking off our fun old fashion family Christmas by heading out into the country in the old front-wheel drive sleigh to embrace the frosty majesty of the winter landscape and select that most important of Christmas symbols.

Clark W. Griswold, A Christmas Vacation

Ryan called me indian giver scrooge the week before Thanksgiving because I refused to get a Christmas tree before Turkey Day. He asked if we could have two trees in the house and I said sure. He took my response to mean that we could go get the trees immediately. I reminded him that we would not have any trees until after Thanksgiving. I wouldn't compromise. I wouldn't hear anything of an evergreen in the house before November 27th. He thought I was just being scrooge, but the truth of the matter was that a co-worker told me that her grandfather has a Christmas tree farm in Williamsburg and I had made arrangements to go the Saturday after Thanksgiving to cut down our very first Christmas tree. So on Saturday we drove to Williamsburg to get the tree! Ryan was very excited and as soon as we arrived at the farm he hopped out of the car and started surveying the grounds...


Just like in Christmas Vacation, our tree practically had a spotlight shining on it...look at the glow!

and look at the glee on Ryan's face when he found "The One"
The only remaining question was whether it would fit into our house..."Oh yea, I'm sure it will fit...it's not even that big..."

So we notified the proprietor that we had found our tree and he handed Ryan a saw to cut it down.

Ryan and dear old Mr. Bradshaw loading the tree in the tractor:

And there it is in the big green truck ready to go home! We were nervous that our tree was too small, that it might look too scrawny or small in our home. Upon getting it inside we realized that we had chosen a tree that was just as tall as it was wide. I mean, this is a fat albert of a tree. We set the tree in the middle of the front window where Ryan's grandparents always put their tree, but it stuck halfway out into our living room. We moved it to the side of the room, in a little alcove where we usually have two chairs and a small table. It fills the space perfectly! Note Ryan's astonishment at the breadth of the tree...

We were excited to have the tree up in time for the little leftovers party that we were having the Saturday after Thanksgiving. And we were excited for Greg Sceviour to be home!

More to come on the finished product...

the thanksgiving television

I woke up this morning at 7am a bit perturbed to find that my husband was gone. "Where has he gone?" I thought to myself. Oh, I know! He is making me a Thanksgiving breakfast with the delcious pumpkin pancake mix we picked up at the Fresh Market. No, no we have no eggs or milk. Upon being reminded of the fact that we really didn't have any breakfast food in the house I turned over and went back to sleep, feeling confident that Ryan could fend for himself just fine whatever he was doing.


Around 8:30 I was awakened by Ryan, jumping up and down with excitement and begging me to get out of bed and see his new television. The one he had been at Kmart waiting for since 4:30am. I sighed, said I'll see it in a minute and fell back asleep. Thirty minutes later Ryan was back and literally dragged me out of bed because I was missing the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. His little Christmas-lover heart simply could not have that. I stumbled into the den in a sleepy stooper to behold our new, gigantic television.




The process of getting the television was fairly amusing. Ryan has been dropping hints for sometime that we really should get a new tv, to which I consistently respond, "Ryan, we have a huge television that works fine." With Black Friday just around the corner, he upped his antics. This culminated with him pulling the "But we would have so much more space if the tv hung on the wall." (Actually not true, the speakers and dvd player and whatever else you need to have a functioning tv still has to sit on a stand under the tv.) So anyways, somewhere in the midst of my not really protesting or objecting, I conceded and off he went to Kmart. (See: This) And then he gloated all morning as we ate potato chips and an apple for breakfast and watched the parade.



As I write, he is watching a James Bond movie smirking and so proud of himself for finding a good deal on his tv. Oh excuse me, our tv, as he likes to point out.

thankfulness : mom + the turkey wagon

Today I am grateful for my mom who has cooked a delicious and nutritious Thanksgiving dinner for as many years as I can remember. I am also thankful that when I came home from college last year, slightly skittish around meat after taking a nutrition class that ended up being an exposé on the horrors of CAFOs, that my mom drove all the way out to Pungo to find a locally raised, hormone-free turkey. Thanks mom.

So this year the trip to find the local, cage free Thanksgiving bird was a family affair. Ryan, James, my mom and I piled into the mini-van and made the drive out to Flanagan farm this afternoon. The turkey's met their maker around 10am and by 1pm they were ready to be picked up. The turkeys were spread out on several tables in a very rustic little shed right behind the Flanagan's home.

We picked what we deemed an appropriately sized bird, put it on the check out counter, paid and put it in a garbage bag (of course). I felt like such a child, but I couldn't help but sneak around behind the shed to see the turkeys still roaming around in the land of the living. There they were in all their glory, at least until Christmas rolls around...we took bets on which one might be on our Christmas dinner table.
Ok, so maybe this is gross or disturbing, but honestly it made me feel much less freaked out than the shrink wrapped, identical blue and yellow plastic covered fowl that line grocery shelves. So here is to Barbara Kingsolver and a local turkey for Thanksgiving! And here's to my wonderful mom who always works so hard to make sure that her babies are fed healthy and delicious meals.