Real talk.

Real talk.

I’ve had a rough month.  There’s been a few hurdles thrown at me lately, and I want to share those with you, in keeping with my “this is me” philosophy of transparency and honesty.

If you’ve read this blog over the years, you’ve certainly heard me talk about my love of running.  Being a “runner” is a big part of my identity, and it’s something I’ve loved to do since I was a little girl.  As a 12-year-old, I used to get up early on Spring mornings and run down to the end of my small-town street and back before anyone else was awake.  Other times, I would ride my bike over to the school track and run laps just for the peaceful bliss that I knew it would bring.

I didn’t have the vocabulary for it back then, but I do now:

running helps to keep me feeling like me.

I tend to worry about things, and running helps me to worry less.  It helps my mind to stay calm and my energy to stay high.  I’m a happy person at my core, but running simply makes me a happier person; a runner’s high is no joke.

And I think this is the reason that February has felt like such a tough one.  I had a week of a chest cold that wouldn’t let loose, four epic snow/ice/freezing rain storms that made for very tricky conditions, and a stubborn Achilles injury that just won’t cooperate.  My mileage was really low, meaning less fresh air, less group run support, less peace in my brain.  Crossfit helps, yoga helps, workouts in my basement help, but for me, there’s just nothing quite like the run.

Bring on Spring.  Bring on blue skies and clear roads and sunshine on our faces.  Bring on movement and sweat and feel-good hormones.  Bring on friendships and smiles and goals to be chased.

We’ve got this.  Happy March!

march


What they Wish they Would’ve Done…

Before she retired, my mother-in-law worked as a palliative care nurse for many years.  If you met her, you would agree that if ever there was such a person fit for that job, it would be her.  Her compassion and empathy overflows her being- she is a gentle soul with a huge heart and more generosity than you can imagine.  And as a palliative care nurse, aside from the physical rigours of nursing, a large part of her job was listening.  Listening to memories and reflections, listening to hopes and dreams for those left behind, listening to family’s last tears and patient’s last words.

She has told me many times over the years that when people are in their final stages of life, they talk a lot about what they wish they would’ve done.  Regrets over things left unsaid, hopes left unfulfilled, and dreams left unchased.

What they wish they would’ve done…

That phrase has crossed my mind many times over the past number of years.  And as my life grows and my responsibilities expand, the number of big decisions that I’m faced with also increases.  With each one of these decisions, I turn to this phrase for guidance.  I’m not a dreamer, I’m not an escapist; I’m pragmatic and realistic and practical.  But this phrase helps me to see the big picture.  When my emotions take hold and my sensitive nature floods in and overwhelms me, it helps me to step back, to see the forest through the trees, to think long-term.

I’m in the middle of one such decision right now.  We are moving.  Not far, still within Burlington, but to a different neighborhood that I’ve been eyeing for years.  We only made the commitment to go for it, I mean really go for it, a couple of weeks ago, although we’ve been talking about this for a very long time.  There have been pro lists and con lists and spreadsheets and soul-searching.  Lots of tears, lots of conversation, lots of back and forth, lots of tears (again).  But it always comes back to what they wish they would’ve done.  I know that I will regret not doing this; and so it has come to be.  The dream is being chased.

Right now, the burdens are heavy and the emotional toll is large.  But this is the right decision for us, even though it’s hard at the moment.  And terrifying.  I’m trying to heed my own advice:

chase them

The chase has begun.