That's a horrible Paula Abdul song reference, I know.
Adam leaves tomorrow to hike the Appalachian trail for 4 days and I can't help but think about how that's something I would never do, or even think about doing. He's going with a group of friends to hike 40 miles in the mountains, with no cell phone service and no shower or bathing/bathroom facilities of any kind along the way. No toilet paper? No hair products? No shower?? No. Everything he needs will be stored neatly in a large backpack, including food and shelter, squarely strapped to his back. I joked today at his sister's graduation party that the only way I'd partake in an outing like this one would be with a gun pointed to my head, or if my option was to hike or jump off a cliff.
I'm a true type A extrovert. I'm not 'one with nature' unless gardening or mowing the lawn counts. I wear inappropriate outfits and shoes to nearly every place I go--except for work. I love shoes, purses, the color pink and talking. I don't care if I'm uncomfortable, as long as I look cute. I like organization, cleanliness and planning ahead to complete tasks before their due date. I'm a creature of habit, and don't read directions. I get frustrated easily, am impatient and once I get an idea in my head, I'm all for it. I want what I want, and I don't want to wait for it. I talk without thinking, make decisions based on my heart instead of my head and am a true city girl at heart--even though I see a corn field when I look out my back window.
My husband, on the other hand, is a type B introvert. He loves nature, clipping coupons and saving money. He loves driving a tractor, obscure beer, building things and sensible clothing. He wears things until they fall apart and places comfort before fashion. He's a born procrastinator and cleans only when the clutter becomes out of control. He reads and follows all directions and isn't afraid to try something new. He's incredibly patient, even tempered and thinks everything through before tackling a project. He loves and understands sports, stops to smell the roses and lay on the grass to watch the stars.
You could say we're opposites, but you could also say we make up for one another's faults--or better yet, we offer a perfect balance to one another. When getting married in the Catholic church, you must go through the Pre Cana process. This essentially means you take personality and compatibility tests and learn how to work together, blah blah. While I don't feel I learned anything I didn't already know, I was struck by the results of our compatibility test. We scored on opposite ends of the spectrum in several areas, especially in respect to our personalities. We approach situations differently, plan and just think differently when it comes to the decisions we make. We were told to remember this when our personalities clash, and to keep in mind that the other was coming from another direction in their thought process. It wasn't bad, we were told.
For anything to work successfully, a balance must be achieved. The scales of justice, the yin and the yang and those tasty cookies that are half chocolate and half white icing. It's impossible to be like someone in all aspects of life, and really, things would get boring pretty darn quickly. The emotional can't function without the rational, and the lavish spender would go broke without the penny pincher, as much as the big spender hates to admit they can't go to the grocery without a fist full of coupons.
On an episode of Oprah recently there was a guest was on talking about marriage and divorce. Someone important, I really don't remember. What I do remember is something that really moved me--he said that marriage is not just about the bond between two people, the hope of living a life together or even raising a family together. Deep down in its core, marriage is about righting the wrongs in your life and the faults and pain of childhood. You chose your mate because they fulfill something in you that is missing, something that was once a painful void. They seem so unlike you because they have to be; they couldn't fill in the gaps otherwise.
On a side note, did you know that dogs can get pink eye? My dog has pink eye. Here I was, being all crazy and thinking that rampant diarrhea was bad. Here's hoping humans can't catch her nasty conjunctivitis.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Love/Hate
Have you seen any New Balance shoe commercials lately? I have DVR and therefore don't watch many commercials, but I love their new campaign. They tackle a topic that is close to my heart, and bring up an obvious but necessary point: the balance between love and hate when it comes to running. Here's the voiceover from my favorite:
"You are in a relationship with running. A love/hate relationship. Running kicks you out of a warm, soft bed and into a cold, hard world. Running calls you at all hours of the night. Running gets up at the crack of dawn, and keeps you at practice long after play has left the building. Every day with running is a question of your commitment, and running is not afraid to ask. Yes, my friend, it is a complex and torrid affair. It is a constant balance, a balance between joy and pain, work and play, a balance between love and hate."
Great advertising like this one gets me to thinking, and not just about running. It makes me think about all the things in our lives that we have love/hate relationships with. The idea of a hating and loving something at the same time is an overriding theme in many facets of life: work, owning a home, a dog or even having children. You love what you get out of these things, the fulfillment it brings you to establish relationships, feel loved and gain a sense of accomplishment. But, there are the times when these things may feel like burdens or as though they're holding you back from something. Doubt creeps in when you think of all the things you are "missing out on" because of your decisions. You begin to question your choices or feel buyer's remorse when things start to get hard or painful. Did you make the right choice? Is now the right time? How will I know?
Truth is, there will always be a downside to everything we do. There will always be moments of doubt, times of pain and even struggles through uncertainty. This doesn't make it wrong, it makes it worth it. Without the work, the results just aren't the same. Nothing worth having ever comes without hard work. Nothing. Don't question yourself until it's all over, when you've forgotten how painful or hard it was and can see how far you've come with the fresh eyes of experience.
One of my favorite lines, especially at work, is, "Hindsight is always 20/20." You can always look back at what you've done and find faults, times when you could've tried harder, pushed yourself and done it right. But without that experience and near-failure, where would you be? More importantly, take a look at that end result and ask, was it worth it?
Well, was it?
P.S. After using an entire bottle of a carpet cleaner called "Kids and Pets Heavy-Duty" there is still a large stain on the carpet in one of our bedrooms from our little angel, Rudi. Oh, and those baby bunnies died last week and I picked them up with gloved hands and laid them to rest (threw them) in the field behind our house. My sheer lack of regard for this loss makes me question my passing over into the darkside of people who live in the country and are at one with the "circle of life." And in case you're wondering, yes, Rudi is worth it. :0)
"You are in a relationship with running. A love/hate relationship. Running kicks you out of a warm, soft bed and into a cold, hard world. Running calls you at all hours of the night. Running gets up at the crack of dawn, and keeps you at practice long after play has left the building. Every day with running is a question of your commitment, and running is not afraid to ask. Yes, my friend, it is a complex and torrid affair. It is a constant balance, a balance between joy and pain, work and play, a balance between love and hate."
Great advertising like this one gets me to thinking, and not just about running. It makes me think about all the things in our lives that we have love/hate relationships with. The idea of a hating and loving something at the same time is an overriding theme in many facets of life: work, owning a home, a dog or even having children. You love what you get out of these things, the fulfillment it brings you to establish relationships, feel loved and gain a sense of accomplishment. But, there are the times when these things may feel like burdens or as though they're holding you back from something. Doubt creeps in when you think of all the things you are "missing out on" because of your decisions. You begin to question your choices or feel buyer's remorse when things start to get hard or painful. Did you make the right choice? Is now the right time? How will I know?
Truth is, there will always be a downside to everything we do. There will always be moments of doubt, times of pain and even struggles through uncertainty. This doesn't make it wrong, it makes it worth it. Without the work, the results just aren't the same. Nothing worth having ever comes without hard work. Nothing. Don't question yourself until it's all over, when you've forgotten how painful or hard it was and can see how far you've come with the fresh eyes of experience.
One of my favorite lines, especially at work, is, "Hindsight is always 20/20." You can always look back at what you've done and find faults, times when you could've tried harder, pushed yourself and done it right. But without that experience and near-failure, where would you be? More importantly, take a look at that end result and ask, was it worth it?
Well, was it?
P.S. After using an entire bottle of a carpet cleaner called "Kids and Pets Heavy-Duty" there is still a large stain on the carpet in one of our bedrooms from our little angel, Rudi. Oh, and those baby bunnies died last week and I picked them up with gloved hands and laid them to rest (threw them) in the field behind our house. My sheer lack of regard for this loss makes me question my passing over into the darkside of people who live in the country and are at one with the "circle of life." And in case you're wondering, yes, Rudi is worth it. :0)
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
An ode to my dog
Our dog, Rudi, has done everything in her power these past few days to irritate me. She pooped in the house yesterday (diarrhea, mind you), broke the horizontal blinds in two windows trying to 'get out' during the pooping incident, tried to eat baby bunnies from a nest in the backyard and subsequently got salmonella AND pin worm from what the vet called "rodent droppings." I can only deduce that the small, defenseless baby bunnies had a hand in this. The trip to the vet? A mere $100.29 and lots of pills I have to shove down her throat three times a day, every day for the next week. She really enjoys THAT.
Additionally, she woke Adam and I up last night every two hours, like clockwork, so she could go outside to the bathroom. That's funny, I thought I had a full-grown dog, not a newborn child.
On the flip side, the week where she is high atop my hate list and I have to put on rubber gloves and hold my breath to scoop her poop off the carpet, I am reminded of all the other weeks where she's not. Where she's really quite perfect. Adam reminded me today that all these things she's done are basic instincts and the other 358 days of the year, she deserves a "#1 Dog" t-shirt. He's right.
Considering her background, Rudi has every right not to be such a wonderful dog. We aren't sure exactly where her life began, we don't know her birthday, and we don't know what breed she is. I'd put my money on black lab/ shepherd, if it matters. All we know is that one of Adam's roommates, Vonde, has an uncle who's a priest in an area of Dayton called Salem. It isn't exactly the nicest area of town, one you wouldn't want to venture the streets alone at night. It was here, in that priest's garage, that someone dumped Rudi. The priest called Vonde to see if he and his roommates would like the puppy--and we all went to see her. Everyone knows you don't just "go see a puppy" you look, fall in love and then bring it home. That was in January of 2005. She wasn't more than 4 or 5 weeks old at the time.
That was exactly how it happened. The other roommates said it couldn't be "their" dog, so it became Adam's. It lived in a college apartment for 4 months and then packed up her bags as graduation from college drew near. Adam found a job in Sidney, moved, and Rudi was left at his parent's house. It was there that she grew up for two years, raising havoc, eating rose bushes, pulling laundry down from the clothesline and digging up dead animals. She got in a few fights along the way, busting open her nose and splitting her ear, the earlier of which was repaired.
After Adam and I got married, she got a heavy-duty bath and came to live with us. She was well-mannered, obedient and potty-trained (still is, save the recent incident) and it was obvious from the start that she loved us. Her primary goal in life is to be in the same place as us at every moment. If we're leaving, she wants to come, too. Oh, and if you don't mind rolling down the window so she can stick her head out, that would be great, thanks. If we're staying, she wants to sit by us and get a scratch behind the ear. It's the simple things, really. Nothing excites her more than a running shoe being slipped on a foot, because it usually means a run outside is soon to follow.
She jumps on those who enter our house, barks at strangers and doesn't like strange men. I don't either. Everything I own is covered in mounds of black dog hair, no matter how many times I vacuum the carpet or grab the lint roller. Sometimes, I make food and while I'm eating it, I find myself with a hair in my mouth. OK, so maybe she's not perfect. But, I'll keep her. For now at least. Talk to me next week.
Additionally, she woke Adam and I up last night every two hours, like clockwork, so she could go outside to the bathroom. That's funny, I thought I had a full-grown dog, not a newborn child.
On the flip side, the week where she is high atop my hate list and I have to put on rubber gloves and hold my breath to scoop her poop off the carpet, I am reminded of all the other weeks where she's not. Where she's really quite perfect. Adam reminded me today that all these things she's done are basic instincts and the other 358 days of the year, she deserves a "#1 Dog" t-shirt. He's right.
Considering her background, Rudi has every right not to be such a wonderful dog. We aren't sure exactly where her life began, we don't know her birthday, and we don't know what breed she is. I'd put my money on black lab/ shepherd, if it matters. All we know is that one of Adam's roommates, Vonde, has an uncle who's a priest in an area of Dayton called Salem. It isn't exactly the nicest area of town, one you wouldn't want to venture the streets alone at night. It was here, in that priest's garage, that someone dumped Rudi. The priest called Vonde to see if he and his roommates would like the puppy--and we all went to see her. Everyone knows you don't just "go see a puppy" you look, fall in love and then bring it home. That was in January of 2005. She wasn't more than 4 or 5 weeks old at the time.
That was exactly how it happened. The other roommates said it couldn't be "their" dog, so it became Adam's. It lived in a college apartment for 4 months and then packed up her bags as graduation from college drew near. Adam found a job in Sidney, moved, and Rudi was left at his parent's house. It was there that she grew up for two years, raising havoc, eating rose bushes, pulling laundry down from the clothesline and digging up dead animals. She got in a few fights along the way, busting open her nose and splitting her ear, the earlier of which was repaired.
After Adam and I got married, she got a heavy-duty bath and came to live with us. She was well-mannered, obedient and potty-trained (still is, save the recent incident) and it was obvious from the start that she loved us. Her primary goal in life is to be in the same place as us at every moment. If we're leaving, she wants to come, too. Oh, and if you don't mind rolling down the window so she can stick her head out, that would be great, thanks. If we're staying, she wants to sit by us and get a scratch behind the ear. It's the simple things, really. Nothing excites her more than a running shoe being slipped on a foot, because it usually means a run outside is soon to follow.
She jumps on those who enter our house, barks at strangers and doesn't like strange men. I don't either. Everything I own is covered in mounds of black dog hair, no matter how many times I vacuum the carpet or grab the lint roller. Sometimes, I make food and while I'm eating it, I find myself with a hair in my mouth. OK, so maybe she's not perfect. But, I'll keep her. For now at least. Talk to me next week.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Why I run
Yesterday morning, I ran 13.1 miles in the Indy 500 Mini. It's a time like that when you have some time (2 hours, 20 minutes) to reflect on the events that led to such a day. Mostly my thoughts were occupied with the repeating of the phrase, "Pain is temporary" but it also occured to me that I really don't remember why I started running in the first place.
As a child, I was never one to commit to any sort of athletic event for longer than a year or two, if that. There was my excitement over cheerleading that lasted a few classes, then my stint in softball in seventh grade and my enthusiasm for volleyball in eighth grade among other sports that I wasn't good at and just gave up on. Just ask my mother. She claims I gave up softball because I had to concentrate on the game rather than socializing. While this may be partially true, I think I just got bored and realized I wasn't athletic--I was just really skinny.
Aside from dabbling here and there, I was never really excited about any athletic pursuits until college. I have a fond memory of leaving Manresa (freshmen orientation at XU) and Kristin Hoff, who lived on my floor in Husman, asking me if I was a runner. I thought it was a strange question, and she followed it up (after I said 'no') by saying, "Well, you look like a runner." Keep in mind that at the time, poor Kristin was covered in head-to-toe rug burns from falling off a treadmill while running on it. At any rate, something clicked with me and I realized that if I looked the part, I might as well play it, too.
Running is a process, and it takes time to turn into an enjoyable event, as opposed to something you only do to escape danger. It can be a pain in many parts of your body, spark dogs to chase after you and people to yell offensive things from their cars as they pass by. Despite being incredibly hard on your body, running has transformed my body like nothing else could, and provided therapy like nothing else will.
You see, running isn't just running--it's more than that. It's an addiction, it's a reason to get out of bed in the morning and a method of fueling life. It provides a sense of accomplishment, regardless of the pain it instills. Either you're a runner, or you're a spectator--you love it or you hate it. There's no in-between, no gray area; you let it fulfill you or you find another way to further yourself.
Running has toughened me, and has taught me to gain strength from life's little victories. I listen to what my body tells me, but only after the run is over. I wave to every runner and walker I pass, and gain inspiration along the way. Each stride behind me prepares me for every step in front of me, even after the run is over. There's a sense of pride in knowing that if nothing else can protect me, my legs will swiftly take me away.
Running isn't for everyone, I get that. As human beings, we strive to find something that gives us joy in our lives, whether it be a healthy outlet or one that isn't especially good for us. My only hope is that your joy feels as good as mine.
From a New Balance ad in my Runner's World magazine:
"Your friends don't understand what you see in RUNNING.
They just see how RUNNING drags you home early from the best parties.
And how it kicks you to the curb the next morning
before the crack of dawn.
They just see the missed lunches, curious stares
and constant mind games.
And if they don't see the other stuff by now,
odds are they never will."
As a child, I was never one to commit to any sort of athletic event for longer than a year or two, if that. There was my excitement over cheerleading that lasted a few classes, then my stint in softball in seventh grade and my enthusiasm for volleyball in eighth grade among other sports that I wasn't good at and just gave up on. Just ask my mother. She claims I gave up softball because I had to concentrate on the game rather than socializing. While this may be partially true, I think I just got bored and realized I wasn't athletic--I was just really skinny.
Aside from dabbling here and there, I was never really excited about any athletic pursuits until college. I have a fond memory of leaving Manresa (freshmen orientation at XU) and Kristin Hoff, who lived on my floor in Husman, asking me if I was a runner. I thought it was a strange question, and she followed it up (after I said 'no') by saying, "Well, you look like a runner." Keep in mind that at the time, poor Kristin was covered in head-to-toe rug burns from falling off a treadmill while running on it. At any rate, something clicked with me and I realized that if I looked the part, I might as well play it, too.
Running is a process, and it takes time to turn into an enjoyable event, as opposed to something you only do to escape danger. It can be a pain in many parts of your body, spark dogs to chase after you and people to yell offensive things from their cars as they pass by. Despite being incredibly hard on your body, running has transformed my body like nothing else could, and provided therapy like nothing else will.
You see, running isn't just running--it's more than that. It's an addiction, it's a reason to get out of bed in the morning and a method of fueling life. It provides a sense of accomplishment, regardless of the pain it instills. Either you're a runner, or you're a spectator--you love it or you hate it. There's no in-between, no gray area; you let it fulfill you or you find another way to further yourself.
Running has toughened me, and has taught me to gain strength from life's little victories. I listen to what my body tells me, but only after the run is over. I wave to every runner and walker I pass, and gain inspiration along the way. Each stride behind me prepares me for every step in front of me, even after the run is over. There's a sense of pride in knowing that if nothing else can protect me, my legs will swiftly take me away.
Running isn't for everyone, I get that. As human beings, we strive to find something that gives us joy in our lives, whether it be a healthy outlet or one that isn't especially good for us. My only hope is that your joy feels as good as mine.
From a New Balance ad in my Runner's World magazine:
"Your friends don't understand what you see in RUNNING.
They just see how RUNNING drags you home early from the best parties.
And how it kicks you to the curb the next morning
before the crack of dawn.
They just see the missed lunches, curious stares
and constant mind games.
And if they don't see the other stuff by now,
odds are they never will."
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