I received this in an email. It was not the first time I've read it, nor was it the first time I cried while reading it. Hope you enjoy.
A Dog's Purpose
Being a veterinarian, I had been called to examine a ten-year-old Irish Wolfhound named Belker. The dog's owners, Ron, his wife Lisa, and their little boy Shane, were all very attached to Belker, and they were hoping for a miracle.
I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer. I told the family we couldn't do anything for Belker and offered to perform the euthanasia procedure for the old dog in their home.
As we made arrangements, Ron and Lisa told me they thought it would be good for six-year-old Shane to observe the procedure. They felt as though Shane might learn something from the experience.
The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker's family surrounded him. Shane seemed so calm, petting the old dog for the last time, that I wondered if he understood what was going on. Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away.
The little boy seemed to accept Belker's transition without any difficulty or confusion. We sat together for a while after Belker's Death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that animal lives are shorter than human lives.
Shane, who had been listening quietly, piped up, "I know why."
Startled, we all turned to him. What came out of his mouth next stunned me. I'd never heard a more comforting explanation. It has changed the way I try and live.
He said, "People are born so that they can learn how to live a good life -- like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right?"
The six year-old continued, "Well, dogs already know how to do that, so they don't have to stay as long."
Things we can learn from dogs
When loved ones come home, always run to greet them.
Never pass up the opportunity to go for a joyride. Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be pure Ecstasy.
Take naps.
Stretch before rising.
Run, romp, and play daily.
Thrive on attention and let people touch you.
Avoid biting when a simple growl will do.
On warm days, stop to lie on your back on the grass.
On hot days, drink lots of water and lie under a shady tree.
When you're happy, dance around and wag your entire body.
Delight in the simple joy of a long walk.
Be loyal.
Never pretend to be something you're not.
If what you want lies buried, dig until you find it.
When someone is having a bad day, be silent, sit close by, and nuzzle them gently.
ENJOY EVERY MOMENT OF EVERY DAY!
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Wow. I really needed to see this this week.
"Running is a big question mark that's there each and every day. It asks you, 'Are you going to be a wimp, or are you going to be strong today?'" ~ Peter Maher, two-time Olympic marathoner
Monday, November 1, 2010
So what went wrong?
After a disappointing triathlon season, I decided to train for (OK, cram for! Jill was right) a 10K yesterday. It was on the Riverfront and consisted of a much flatter and easier course than any other 10K I've ever done, so I thought a new PR would be a breeze. My current 10K PR was set in 2006... so it's time I break it.
My original goal was to PR, but my real goal was to break 50 minutes for the first time. That would mean a 46 second PR on an easier course. Should have been no problem.
With only five weeks until race day, I hired Iron Ex, the most talented coach I know -- and frankly the only person I trust to train me. With his help while we were together, I'd PRed at pretty much everything I tried, so I knew he would be tough but effective. I went from 2-3 runs per week (10-12 miles max) all spring and summer to 5-6 runs per week (20-27 miles). I did speedwork, hills, tempo runs, and long(er) runs (7-8 miles) on the weekends. I thought my legs would fall off, and I dreamed up new curse words to call him on the track pretty regularly, but I did it.
Saturday night D and I had Flyers tickets. Thinking I was being so smart, I ate before the game to avoid eating crap at the game. Unfortunately, I didn't eat again, except for some Twizzlers, for the rest of the night Saturday. In hindsight, I should have had something before going to bed.
Sunday morning, I had some cereal and a banana, and I made a mental note to make my traditional pre-race peanut butter sandwich for the car.
And then I forgot all about the sandwich.
Those errors killed me. Not enough food on Saturday, no food LATE on Saturday, and not nearly enough Sunday morning before the race. I started out feeling strong and confident, hitting my watch at 7:54 at the one mile marker. A bit too fast -- I needed to run 8s the whole race to break 50 minutes -- but I felt good. It didn't feel too fast. I knew I'd slow down a bit, and I was happy to have those extra precious seconds in the bank, as my friend Chris would say.
Mile 2 had the only significant hill. I knew I'd slowed down a little bit, but again I was OK with it. Until I hit my watch at the mile 2 marker and saw a big 8:25 taunting me. WTF??
I tried to pick it up during mile 3, but the turnaround was about a quarter mile into this mile and the tailwind I never even knew was aiding me turned into a really awful headwind. Everyone at this point was complaining about it. Oh well, nothing we can do about it. I think mile 3 was 8:14. Better, but still not good enough.
During mile 4 we ran next to the river and had to battle a pretty significant crosswind. Note: crosswinds are almost as hard as headwinds. I think mile 4 was 8:15, but I'm not 100% sure. It was a struggle to maintain that pace, and I knew I couldn't go any faster.
By mile 5 I knew I wasn't going to break 50 minutes or PR. I knew I'd blown it. My legs weighed about 80 pounds each at this point. I had no energy. I was mentally shutting down. I desperately looked for D and Shaggy along the course, telling myself I would stop to pet Shaggy for 10 seconds and get a second wind (no pun intended). I never did find them, and that was devastating. I so desperately wanted to stop, even for a second. Nearly in tears, I hit my watch at 8:24 for mile 5.
And then in mile 6, it all fell apart. I stopped even trying. I think you could best call what I was doing a shuffle. My legs were done, my brain was done, and I wanted to just walk off the course and never run again. Mile 6 was 9 freaking 05.
I don't even know what the final 2/10ths were. And I don't care. By my watch, my final time was 52:21. Two and a half minutes over my goal.
I don't know if I can do this any more. It hasn't been fun in a long, long time. I hate to finish this way, but I hate even more the thought of putting in the effort for nothing.
I think my bad attitude and I need some time to figure this out.
My original goal was to PR, but my real goal was to break 50 minutes for the first time. That would mean a 46 second PR on an easier course. Should have been no problem.
With only five weeks until race day, I hired Iron Ex, the most talented coach I know -- and frankly the only person I trust to train me. With his help while we were together, I'd PRed at pretty much everything I tried, so I knew he would be tough but effective. I went from 2-3 runs per week (10-12 miles max) all spring and summer to 5-6 runs per week (20-27 miles). I did speedwork, hills, tempo runs, and long(er) runs (7-8 miles) on the weekends. I thought my legs would fall off, and I dreamed up new curse words to call him on the track pretty regularly, but I did it.
Saturday night D and I had Flyers tickets. Thinking I was being so smart, I ate before the game to avoid eating crap at the game. Unfortunately, I didn't eat again, except for some Twizzlers, for the rest of the night Saturday. In hindsight, I should have had something before going to bed.
Sunday morning, I had some cereal and a banana, and I made a mental note to make my traditional pre-race peanut butter sandwich for the car.
And then I forgot all about the sandwich.
Those errors killed me. Not enough food on Saturday, no food LATE on Saturday, and not nearly enough Sunday morning before the race. I started out feeling strong and confident, hitting my watch at 7:54 at the one mile marker. A bit too fast -- I needed to run 8s the whole race to break 50 minutes -- but I felt good. It didn't feel too fast. I knew I'd slow down a bit, and I was happy to have those extra precious seconds in the bank, as my friend Chris would say.
Mile 2 had the only significant hill. I knew I'd slowed down a little bit, but again I was OK with it. Until I hit my watch at the mile 2 marker and saw a big 8:25 taunting me. WTF??
I tried to pick it up during mile 3, but the turnaround was about a quarter mile into this mile and the tailwind I never even knew was aiding me turned into a really awful headwind. Everyone at this point was complaining about it. Oh well, nothing we can do about it. I think mile 3 was 8:14. Better, but still not good enough.
During mile 4 we ran next to the river and had to battle a pretty significant crosswind. Note: crosswinds are almost as hard as headwinds. I think mile 4 was 8:15, but I'm not 100% sure. It was a struggle to maintain that pace, and I knew I couldn't go any faster.
By mile 5 I knew I wasn't going to break 50 minutes or PR. I knew I'd blown it. My legs weighed about 80 pounds each at this point. I had no energy. I was mentally shutting down. I desperately looked for D and Shaggy along the course, telling myself I would stop to pet Shaggy for 10 seconds and get a second wind (no pun intended). I never did find them, and that was devastating. I so desperately wanted to stop, even for a second. Nearly in tears, I hit my watch at 8:24 for mile 5.
And then in mile 6, it all fell apart. I stopped even trying. I think you could best call what I was doing a shuffle. My legs were done, my brain was done, and I wanted to just walk off the course and never run again. Mile 6 was 9 freaking 05.
I don't even know what the final 2/10ths were. And I don't care. By my watch, my final time was 52:21. Two and a half minutes over my goal.
I don't know if I can do this any more. It hasn't been fun in a long, long time. I hate to finish this way, but I hate even more the thought of putting in the effort for nothing.
I think my bad attitude and I need some time to figure this out.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Halloween
My creative juices are at a low*, so I'm reaching out to get YOUR good ideas. What should I be for Halloween this year?
*Actually, that's not entirely true. I just gave my cousin a great costume idea! Doesn't really help me, though... so now I need your help. :)
The criteria:
Has to be fun. Cute. Preferably sexy but not overtly so. No face paint. Wigs are OK, though I'm completely hideous as a blonde... but I'm willing to don a blonde wig if it's appropriate for the costume. Pop culture references are great but not necessary. Should be easy enough for people to figure out without having to ask me, "So... what are you??"
So please leave a comment with your good ideas. As an incentive, I'll offer a prize if I choose your idea -- chocolate-covered pretzels from Govatos Chocolates.
Ready GO!
*Actually, that's not entirely true. I just gave my cousin a great costume idea! Doesn't really help me, though... so now I need your help. :)
The criteria:
Has to be fun. Cute. Preferably sexy but not overtly so. No face paint. Wigs are OK, though I'm completely hideous as a blonde... but I'm willing to don a blonde wig if it's appropriate for the costume. Pop culture references are great but not necessary. Should be easy enough for people to figure out without having to ask me, "So... what are you??"
So please leave a comment with your good ideas. As an incentive, I'll offer a prize if I choose your idea -- chocolate-covered pretzels from Govatos Chocolates.
Ready GO!
Monday, September 27, 2010
In denial
I haven't wanted to admit something, but I think it's time.
I'm afraid in the water.
That stinking rip current last year really did a number on me. I didn't realize it at first this year -- I was so in denial that even I didn't recognize it! -- but I'm finally recognizing my fear. All my race swim times were off this season, despite setting PR after PR in the pool. At first I beat myself up over it a little. Then I got frustrated.
Finally, after the fiasco that was Diamondman, I admitted what I've been reluctant to accept. I'm afraid.
In almost every race, I was out of breath and fighting a racing heartbeat in the swim. Thinking I was going out too fast -- just like I do in the run -- I slowed myself down. Now, I realize that my racing heart wasn't overexertion. It was panic.
So, what do I do? Obviously, spending more time in the pool isn't going to help. I've trained my butt off in the pool this year. The pool is safe. Comforting. Easy.
More open water swims in training? I did short races this year, but more of them than normal. I also swam in bodies of water I've never swam in before. So more open water swimming may or may not help me.
Is it all in my head? Do I need more yoga and meditation?
Is it even something I can overcome? Or am I destined to just be afraid in the water forever? Do I need to just accept it?
Whatever the answer, I know this. I hate it. I hate that something I LOVED so much -- being in the water, swimming, feeling so carefree and weightless and ALIVE -- has been taken away from me.
I'm afraid in the water.
That stinking rip current last year really did a number on me. I didn't realize it at first this year -- I was so in denial that even I didn't recognize it! -- but I'm finally recognizing my fear. All my race swim times were off this season, despite setting PR after PR in the pool. At first I beat myself up over it a little. Then I got frustrated.
Finally, after the fiasco that was Diamondman, I admitted what I've been reluctant to accept. I'm afraid.
In almost every race, I was out of breath and fighting a racing heartbeat in the swim. Thinking I was going out too fast -- just like I do in the run -- I slowed myself down. Now, I realize that my racing heart wasn't overexertion. It was panic.
So, what do I do? Obviously, spending more time in the pool isn't going to help. I've trained my butt off in the pool this year. The pool is safe. Comforting. Easy.
More open water swims in training? I did short races this year, but more of them than normal. I also swam in bodies of water I've never swam in before. So more open water swimming may or may not help me.
Is it all in my head? Do I need more yoga and meditation?
Is it even something I can overcome? Or am I destined to just be afraid in the water forever? Do I need to just accept it?
Whatever the answer, I know this. I hate it. I hate that something I LOVED so much -- being in the water, swimming, feeling so carefree and weightless and ALIVE -- has been taken away from me.
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