tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5402248504155251292024-03-05T04:42:56.116-05:00Couch to ATHLETE!Wellness is a connection of paths: Knowledge and Action -Joshua HoltzSarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12587125181578567948noreply@blogger.comBlogger321125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540224850415525129.post-57489561874654579132022-01-30T10:41:00.001-05:002022-01-30T10:41:49.582-05:00Stuck on Country<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiCoK6YiZ2wokecdSQW4IdhqWxvOct1aX5_MGRLgf53EBiuAxsm3-9hohL_2Pv0bZ-Tg9i6rvrgadDI9F_2PRBAoeKLk3PWB4Tq28lv33p0xfEvpdnJS8HZCjHUHAOCrg-FPQe2IdbCoULPzSmvW9Uz6Ut9gG-s9Et4WOI7jLjhNjS9he1esWlOrK467A=s960" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiCoK6YiZ2wokecdSQW4IdhqWxvOct1aX5_MGRLgf53EBiuAxsm3-9hohL_2Pv0bZ-Tg9i6rvrgadDI9F_2PRBAoeKLk3PWB4Tq28lv33p0xfEvpdnJS8HZCjHUHAOCrg-FPQe2IdbCoULPzSmvW9Uz6Ut9gG-s9Et4WOI7jLjhNjS9he1esWlOrK467A=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br />Last weekend we took a ride to Illinois to pop into a few stores. You see, they wear masks in Illinois and so I bring my business across the boarder. When I was making the audio selection for the drive I decided to let it be Spotify's choice. It is a good way to meander through new music that aligns with the genres I enjoy. Well, last week, Spotify got it all wrong.<p></p><p>I have an eclectic choice in music. I can be found listening and singing along to the classic rock station, r&b, alternative, pop, 90s, jam bands, rap, etc.You will never find me bopping my head to country unless it is a song introduced to me by my niece's girl scout troop while on a camping trip. It isn't necessarily the song, but rather the memory. The smile that comes across my face when Chicken Fried, Should Have Been a Cowboy, or Priscilla come across one of my playlists is one that emulates the same joy I felt with those smart, talented, stubborn, argumentative, kind girls. </p><p>Several years ago I had the great opportunity to go camping on Assateague Island and the soundtrack of that trip ranged from Don McLean, Billie Eilish, Catie Turner, Justin Beiber, Johnny Cash, etc. The following year when camping in the Outer Banks I proudly pulled up Spotify and hit play on the playlist they created for me the prior year. I, of course, started with Chicken Fried by Zac Brown because the sing along in the back seat is what endeared me to the damn song. Over the past year I had joy in my heart every time these songs came through my ear buds, and was often found dancing around the house. Imagine my disappointment when the following year, when camping in the Outer Banks, I gleefully pulled up the old playlist queued up Chicken Fried and hit play and they all groaned while I bopped in the front seat. I was even more devastated when their earbuds hit their ears to drown out the bit of joy that one song brought me. Just writing this story brought tears to my eyes. </p><p>Anyway, I quickly brushed it off to the teenage girl effect. I mean, of course their music taste was going to evolve in one year and so I handed them my phone to add to the old girl scout play list and started hearing the unfamiliar pound through some really bad minivan speakers. More Billie Eilish, Ethan Jewell (his music is enough to put anyone into a deep depression), Lizzo, and Jasmine Thompson singing Macy Gray. I about burst into even more tears, but I didn't (that happened at another point on the trip) and opted to embrace the music. To this day I dance around my house to Lizzo, and go and cry in a dark corner to Ethan Jewel, just to have the opportunity to reconnect with the joy those girls brought me. *I can imagine the eye rolls if any of them came across this post... </p><p>Last weekend, as I was driving to Illinois to run a few errands the Spotify algorithm got it all wrong. I swear, there are four rotating country songs in my playlist and here Spotify was spitting out the twangiest, pickup truck lovin, heartbreak trauma, beer drinkin, soul crushing country music they could find. How did they get it so wrong! </p><p>Well parallel that with my athletic journey. Like spotify, I'm stuck on country! Just because I enjoy Chicken Fried or Broken Halos does not mean I want to eat, breath, and sleep country; it means that I like those songs, period. Spotify should be smart enough to figure that out. Well, during the pandemic I have learned that I love baking random stuff, trying new Japanese recipes, exploring new kitchen gadgets, and enjoy the most abhorrent reality TV that exists. Over this past week I was talking with one of the people who I met through my athletic pursuits in the past and was talking with her about my ability to run without head phones. In fact it was my preferred way of running. Not only did I run without headphones, I ran without a watch. I'd map my run, check the clock, and go. If I really wanted to know how long it took I would check the clock when I got home. I have a lot to do to get me to a place where running will again be as joyful, but I want it so bad I can taste it. It's amazing how cooking decadent cakes can shift your brain to the point of forgetting the incredible joy running without technology.</p><p>The real lesson to me is if I desire for Spotify to correct and include all of my music genres I need to retrain Spotify by intentionally choosing good music on my own. Similarly, I need to retrain myself to run without headphones.</p>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12587125181578567948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540224850415525129.post-45179404747780747672022-01-22T09:45:00.001-05:002022-01-22T09:45:24.514-05:00Fat or Fit<p>When the pandemic first began, there were so many memes to laugh at, but one that stuck in my mind was an image of a person leaning into her refrigerator that was captioned with a saying that we will all get through quarantine fat, fit, or drunk. The comic relief was necessary at the time, but the reality of that statement has officially hit home. I remember folks talking about instances of domestic violence going up, kids at home without food, depression and loneliness spiking with adults, yet I was laughing about a meme that, in a dark way, gave me comfort that I was not alone in my early day binging on Totino's Pizza Rolls and Cara Cara oranges. No seriously, that was all I ate in March, April, May, June, and July... I don't remember when my diet changed to fewer Cara Cara oranges to more Totino's Pizza Rolls, and cake, and bread, and ice cream, and more cake, and pastries, and more homemade cake, but it did. </p><p>Fast forward to December 2021 and I became that meme I referenced above. A choice was made whether conscious or not. I chose fat. I'm definitely not blind to the impact chronic depression played in my choices, but I've watched enough <i>My 600 Pound Life</i> to grasp the fact that every time I said to myself, my diet isn't that bad I was simply lying to myself. </p><p>I'm very fortunate to have been raised how I was. I was blessed with self awareness and ownership. I'll never forget the day I took my dad's last cigarette from his pack when I was a freshman in high school. I never imagined it was his last, surely he had another pack hiding away in a drawer somewhere, but he didn't. I woke up in the morning and I heard him talking to my cousin who lived with us at the time very loudly about stealing and taking his last cigarette. It was natural for him to assume she was the culprit because it wasn't unheard of to find stolen items of friends and family in her bedroom, in fact she stole every souvenir I bought in Hawaii for my siblings and did God knows what with them. It would have been SO easy to just let her take the fall for the cigarette but my parents taught me so much better. Take responsibility when you do something wrong, I mean what was the worst thing they were going to do to me? </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;">This is where I insert I was a very fortunate child, so much so my mom would tell my dad to spank me (I've only been slapped by a parent once in my life and I deserved it BIG TIME) and he would take us in the bedroom and smack his own leg loudly and tell me to cry. You see my mom couldn't do it, so she thought maybe my dad would? This is almost laughable.</p></blockquote><p style="text-align: left;">But back to the cigarette story, I knew the worst thing that would happen was my dad would be silent for a few minutes; This was always torture for me, I just wanted him to yell at me and get it over with because he knew how to bark, but never figured out how to bite. I walked down the stairs from our bedrooms that entered right into the kitchen and told my dad I took the cigarette very nonchalantly, it wasn't my cousin. My dad was dumbfounded; I'm not sure if it was because I took the cigarette, he automatically blamed my cousin, or he was embarrassed by the latter but it was clear he was not expecting that admission. I don't remember what happened after I told him, but my memory takes me to a place of him thanking me for telling the truth and then handing me five bucks to go and get him another pack (back then they would sell cigarettes to anyone). I honestly don't remember if that is exactly what happened, but hey, these are my memories and if they are totally wrong I'm sure my family will school me on my incorrect recollections!</p><p style="text-align: left;">Sometimes reality has to slap you in the face before you take action. Kind of like my reference to My 600 Lb Life earlier. Some of the folks on the show need the doctor to smack them in the face with reality and sometimes that doesn't even work. I have watched the weight on the scale tick up during the pandemic to the tune of 50-80 pounds depending on when I want to click the start button. As if that wasn't enough of a smack in the face to me, I run a family 5k on Thanksgiving Morning every year and this year I accomplished it, but it was so hard! I had two great friends by my side which made it easier but I remember being tearful later in the day about my progress. And then the MRI results. <i>For new readers, the big non-secret is I have Multiple Sclerosis. I say non-secret because when I told one of my colleagues, several years ago, about having MS she simply said it was the worst kept secret at my agency. </i>I went in for my annual MRI and was expecting much of the same: No significant changes, keep up what you are doing, if you have any significant symptoms, let us know. I got exactly what I wasn't expecting: Lesion doubled in size in one year (WHAT!?), we see something on your spine and want you to come back for another MRI (DOUBLE WHAT!?), and most recently the medication that has kept me stable for many years sent me to the ER last weekend for an injection site reaction (TRIPLE WHAT!?). </p><p style="text-align: left;">In the midst of all this internal turmoil, it is like both of my sisters saw an internal cry for help that I didn't know I was emulating and both responded beautifully. Janell texted me on December 9, 2021 and acknowledged what she was about to propose sounded insane and probably felt impossible at that moment in time. When I saw that message I knew something big was coming. I wasn't wrong. She said, let's do the Chicago Marathon next year. I gulped hard, paced, cried a little because of the loss of my physical strength through COVID, and responded with a "yep, why the hell not", followed by "i might hate myself for saying that... but...".</p><p style="text-align: left;">Most recently, Christina texted me and said let's support each other on Weight Watchers. Since my sister texted me I've seen plenty of photos of her awesome food choices, made decisions to eat a Cara Cara orange instead of a cookie, gotten back to my hard boiled egg breakfast and have lost 6 lbs., but let's not talk about what I ate last night... I think my sister would be appalled at the number of points my dinner consumed, but equally supportive of the fact that we are relearning how to eat, not overhauling our entire diet. I even think she might say something like 'wow, that sounds delicious'. </p><p style="text-align: left;">So, I just spent the last hour meandering about the pandemic, where I am with weight gain, disease progression, seemingly impossible goals that I know are achievable one step at a time, and basic unveiling of the struggle that is in my brain at the moment. You know what? While I may have not made any points about anything, I feel like this exercise has served as the first step in healing from some of the, dare I say, trauma I have put myself or experienced since the onset of the pandemic.</p><p style="text-align: left;">I chose fat... I get to change my mind now and choose fit!</p>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12587125181578567948noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540224850415525129.post-77037083283790047202021-01-30T11:50:00.004-05:002021-01-30T11:50:41.030-05:00Peace, Promise, and Hope<div>Peace, Promise, and Hope</div><div><br /></div>All of the feels those words spark in my heart are present; in fact I have been heard saying that peace and promise are washing over me for the past week or so. <div><br /></div><div>Every single one of us has likely experienced that fleeting moment when we feel absolute contentment, and then wonder where that moment went 30 seconds later. It is the feeling I strive for in life, and always feel when I trot across a finish line.</div><div><br /></div><div>I've been an avid Beetles fan growing up. I'm not the type of fan that knows every detail of every song, the details of every band member, or that sequencing of their albums, but I'm the type of fan that can sing along to almost every Beetles song that comes on the radio. A couple of weeks ago I was listening to Jon Bon Jovi sing one of my all time favorite songs, <i>Here Comes the Sun</i>, and my first thought was no one should cover this song (Sorry Jon, your rendition just didn't do it for me), and then I started singing along and the lyrics hit me again:<blockquote><div>It's been a long cold lonely winter...</div></blockquote><blockquote><p>I feel the ice is slowly melting...</p></blockquote><p>I realized that those words are direct reflections of my athleticism. I've been in a LONG cold lonely athletic pause in my life, and I am the only one who can take responsibility for that, but I can do something about it. I've started to chip away at the ice blocks that grew around me. </p><p>A beautiful woman recently shot to the spotlight for her powerful, inciteful, and wise poetry that was shared across the world. I do NOT want to diminish the the power of her entire message, because the whole of her <i>The Hill We Climb</i> is much larger than one individual passage on its' own, however the beauty of her work is that almost every phrase in her work can stand alone. </p><p>So, I'm just going to do it... Take the power of some of the phrases, and let them move my personal journey, while I let the whole of her work move my social journey. </p><blockquote><p>"We will rebuild, reconcile and recover"</p></blockquote><p>I've acknowledged that I have taken many steps backwards. I've said it out loud. I've declared it here. I've also said I was going to do something about it. And I am. I'm rebuilding. I still have some personal reconciling to do, which will be part of the recovery, but it is happening. </p><blockquote><p>"When day comes we step out of the shade,</p></blockquote><blockquote><p>aflame and unafraid</p></blockquote><blockquote><p>The new dawn blooms as we free it</p></blockquote><blockquote><p>For there is always light, </p></blockquote><blockquote><p>if only we're brave enough to see it</p></blockquote><blockquote><p>If only we're brave enough to be it"</p></blockquote><p><br /></p><p><i>Come back tomorrow and I'll tell you about some tools I'm using to power my new journey. </i></p></div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12587125181578567948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540224850415525129.post-50553161391383272722021-01-10T11:26:00.002-05:002021-01-10T11:26:53.197-05:00Order, Order in the House<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/SC99_7VmrCc" width="320" youtube-src-id="SC99_7VmrCc"></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Video: Sam Cooke & Cric Clapton - Somebody Ease My Troublin' Mind</i></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>I have been meandering about in my brain trying to figure out the thing that really brought order to my life many years ago; you know that time I ran marathons and lost 130 pounds? I always thought it was exercise, but then why has it been so hard to get back to my exercising ways?<div><br /></div><div>This week has been one of chaos, sadness, anger, rage, and everything in between. I don't mean what we all watched on TV, but also internally. I've been dealing with some tough/heavy shit everywhere... When I say everywhere, I mean EVERYWHERE. It used to be when my life at home was hard, I could bury myself in work; when my life at work was hard, I could bury myself in exercise; when exercise was hard, I could bury myself into friends; when friends were hard, I could bury myself at home; and the cycle would continue, but in a very healthy way. What the F*CK do you do when it is all hard? Add to it that I was torn apart watching people storm our US Capital, I am dealing with extreme agoraphobia, and COVID-19/politics is bringing out the ugly in people... Then what???</div><div><br /></div><div>As these very painful drum beats have been thundering in my head, and I look anywhere for release. I have been searching for that moment that I took control many years ago. What was it? When was it? How was it? <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>PS. I sit and cry when I write most of my posts here; it is cathartic, but probably concerning to my feline, canine, and human companions. They have all taken turns staring at me from across the room this morning.</i></span> As I cycled in my brain, and even in my actions, I wasn't coming to any natural conclusions. And then it hit me... I cannot bring order to my own internal chaos, until I bring order into my routine, and my surroundings. </div><div><br /></div><div>One of my longest time friends has come to my house over the years and has always wanted to dig in and organize. She probably could tell what was going inside my head every time she walked in my home. In fact, one time she came to visit me in Columbus, when I was having a particularly difficult time. She stayed for an extra day to organize and clean, and it made the next day so much easier. Damnit Chris, why did you have to move so far away, perhaps it is time I chase you across the country again; since it seems to be what we do...</div><div><br /></div><div>Several weeks ago I grand gestured my 21 days of self care right here on this blog. You know what happened when I started 21 days of self care? I did a lot of yoga, and then I laid on the couch recovering from a fairly mild, but very inconvenient case of COVID-19. Remember the agoraphobia? Yeah, I can't figure out where I got COVID either. And then my self care went out the window-ish, when I decided it would be fun to make over 1,000 Christmas cookies to deliver to all my family and friends. </div><div><br /></div><div>I make these very declarative statements every time I come here to share, and I really don't have any major declarative statement for today. But let me tell you amidst this chaos, I can see order. I am recalling the days when almost every time I woke up in the morning, or got home from work, the dishes were done. Yep, I did that... Now I'm on day 10 of my dishes before bed streak (thank you habitify for keeping track for me. I also remember a time when I wouldn't eat out except for my Saturday's with Sue, and Chipotle during Gray's anatomy, and random nights out with friends. Doordash has made eating out all to convenient during covid and agoraphobia times. I am now on a 17 day eating only what I have cooked at home streak. You know what? I feel like I got some of my control back when I reflected on those accomplishments, right here. This weekend I spent some time finishing up my reorg of my kitchen, and it feels damn good. Things are in functional spaces, and I can eat off my counters. Nothing like some good old fashioned order!</div><div><br /></div><div>All this to say, I know this week has been sad to so many of us, as it should be. I also know that my other gut-wrenching stuff is sad and complicated, but taking this moment to reflect, and the moments to organize my space is what is bringing order to my house. </div><div><br /></div><div>Thank you for reading...</div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12587125181578567948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540224850415525129.post-7969934479579566522020-11-08T10:31:00.000-05:002020-11-08T10:31:15.166-05:00"You Tell Me That It's Evolution"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/BGLGzRXY5Bw" width="320" youtube-src-id="BGLGzRXY5Bw"></iframe></div><br /><p> *Video displayed above: <a href="https://youtu.be/BGLGzRXY5Bw">https://youtu.be/BGLGzRXY5Bw</a></p><blockquote><p><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">You say you got a real solution</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Well, you know</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">We'd all love to see the plan</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><br /></p></blockquote><p>It's a hard thing to acknowledge and accept falling back into old bad habits. It is also hard to accept when tools used in the past no longer work, AND when tools used in the past are necessary. I'm going to acknowledge something here that can be an uncomfortable topic for some people, including me, but really shouldn't be.</p><p>After being diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis I went through some serious depression. I remember sitting on the kitchen floor of my kitchen sobbing over the fact that I MIGHT lose my mobility, I MIGHT lose my livelihood, I MIGHT never run a marathon again, and so on. What I had to come to terms with is I might NOT, and that I wouldn't know until it happened. Shortly after diagnosis, I ran another marathon, I got a couple of cool promotions, and I am still mobile. Part of my progress in recognizing the fact that I could still do things was with the help of some pharmaceuticals. Yep, I started taking some anti-depressants and was amazed how, over time, my hope returned, my positivity returned, and I could see the Bright Side of Life! Every day I chose hope and health, and it was hard even with the pharmaceuticals, but tools from counseling gave the last bit of a push I needed to get me there. </p><p>During this time, my oldest nephew gave me the biggest compliment, and that was (paraphrased of course): Aunt Sarah, do you know why all of us (your nieces and nephews) look up to you? You are always so positive even when tough stuff happens...</p><p>He told me this while we were having one of our many discussions about life. I was proud of myself in that moment...</p><p>About 12 months ago, my GP and I were talking about the benefit of my anti-depressants in light of my weight gain, and started discussing the option to taper the medication. I explained to the doctor that I knew what my personal contribution was to each pound gained, and I understood that it wasn't just the medication but because of the correlation between anti-depressants it was worth noting exploring their impact on my physical health. </p><p>We tabled the topic, but came back to it with every appointment (ps. I have to go to the doctor often, which is why we had the opportunity to continuously come back to it). When we first started the discussion we didn't have all of the information of what was to come: a global pandemic, a major job change, quarantining, civil unrest, etc. But, alas, about 6 months ago I began the taper because I was handling all of this 'stuff' so well. Or so I thought!</p><p>Well, let me tell you what happened:</p><p>I continued gaining weight, I continued laying around in front of the TV, I continued my covid diet... And here I sit... back where I was when I was sitting on my kitchen floor sobbing with my dog... A bit less dramatic this time because I have 5-6 years of wisdom on board, I know how to talk myself out of the bottoms, and my new pup does not tolerate tears!</p><p> Luckily I have history on my side to show me a path:</p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Daily goals;</li><li>Counseling;</li><li>Big event goals (perhaps a marathon in 2022);</li><li>And, pharmaceuticals...</li></ul><div>These will be my evolution!</div><p></p>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12587125181578567948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540224850415525129.post-53309902205344297682020-11-01T09:17:00.002-05:002020-11-01T09:17:41.661-05:00YES I WILL: 21 Days of Self Care<p>Some say it takes 21 days to establish a habit, and then 66 days to make it a strong habit. Look it up and you will find many studies about it. What's interesting is that you will find research that indicates the 21 day path to a habit is a myth, but you will also find research that supports the claim. What I know as true: My mind is a powerful organ, and regardless of what research says, I can make a decision and stick with it. I mean, I did quit drinking Diet Coke awhile ago and even when put in right in front of me I push that pop away every time. </p><p>There are seven pillars of self care that I have learned over the years. The Pillars include:</p><p></p><ol style="text-align: left;"><li>Knowledge</li><li>Mental Health</li><li>Physical Activity</li><li>Healthy Eating</li><li>Risk aversion</li><li>Good Hygiene</li><li>Rational use of Products</li></ol><div>Seven pillars has always been WAY too much for my brain, and I prefer to categorize and put these pillars into broader pillars for myself. I like to focus on:</div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Mental Wellbeing</li><li>Physical Wellbeing</li><li>Spiritual Wellbeing</li></ul><div>This 3 pillar approach was taught to me by a wonderful supporter several years ago, when I asked her to break down the seven pillars. They stuck with me, especially because I think the 7 pillars, align nicely with the 3 pillars, and can even be the cobblestones that build the 3 pillars.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>Last week I found myself back on the blog, and I'm so glad I found my way back here again. The blog was an important piece of my athletic journey in the past, and will be a staple as I regain my footing for the next athletic journey of my life.</div><div><br /></div><div>Early, when COVID-19 started sweeping across the world, the memes were abundant, as they related to quarantine. One that sticks in my brain, that I can no longer find, a woman standing in front of a refrigerator with a caption that says fat, fit, or drunk - how will you emerge from quarantine? I first want to acknowledge the sensitivity that swept across the web related to these memes. If you found these memes globally offensive in nature, I support your feelings, and would love you to share your thoughts with me, as an ever learning individual. I found some of the memes a bit over the top, and even offensive, but the one I'm referencing put three words in front of me, and really spoke to the power of choosing how I want to emerge from this pandemic.</div><div><br /></div><div>8 months into the pandemic, I can tell you which path I chose, and it wasn't fit or drunk. I'm an avid non-drinker, an avid over eater, and an avid fitness movie binger. Ask me about ANY of the various documentaries about people becoming fit, and I probably watched it, or have it on my watch list. I dedicated myself to learning about other people's athletic pursuits, gaining the weight many of them lost, and creating the perfect dent on my couch that would properly cradle my body. What I forgot about was the pain that would come with weight gain, limited movement, and watching someone else live your past goals across the TV screen. </div><div><br /></div><div>Let me be very clear, while I desire a life of athleticism, and fitness, I think every person chooses the path that is best for them, and would be glad to be on your sideline supporting you.</div><div><br /></div><div>I just finished watching 'Heart: Flatline to Finish line' and it reminded me of the value of the necessity of self care, and having goals. What I have learned over the past couple of year is what worked for me in the past, is not working for me right now. I used to make big, grandiose goals, and then achieve them... Right now, I get as far as writing the goal, and then... </div><div><br /></div><div>A defining moment for me during this quarantine, was when my sister and I decided we would do a beginner adventure race together (by the way, we made this decision while watching 'The World's Toughest Race' during this quarantine); she looked over at me and said, I'll do it, but you better train for this. When I first started racing, I had a history of not training and then struggling through the event, and then I realized training is what made it fun. I trained for everything!!!! However the most recent event I did with this sister, I trained, but if I'm being honest with myself, it wasn't my best work. It was a bike ride in Mississippi and my wheels fell off... I didn't train enough, and it showed. That experience wasn't my best work, and I don't want that to be my defining athletic moment. </div><div><br /></div><div>So, where the hell do I start, again? Self Care...</div><div><br /></div><div>21 days of self care begin today. I have a task for each day, for the next 21 days, ranging from exploring new yoga poses, cancelling unused subscriptions, cooking meals, returning to my gratitude Friday exercise, and simply being present. Each task will be completed intentionally, and documented so I can properly celebrate intentional focus on myself. AND, it just so happens that I bought a ticket for a Michael Franti virtual concert on November 21, 2020, and that is going to be an opportunity for me to dance around my living room while celebrating my accomplishment. Michael Franti speaks to my soul (yes super dramatic statement for which I make no apologies), and spending some time with his music and energy will be the perfect way to propel from 21 days of self care, into a lifetime of self care! YES I WILL!!!!!</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/FFMQm02Ffzc" width="320" youtube-src-id="FFMQm02Ffzc"></iframe></div><br /><div><br /></div><p></p>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12587125181578567948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540224850415525129.post-61796090258780850302020-10-26T21:00:00.001-04:002020-10-26T21:01:27.780-04:00Ever Tried. Ever Failed. <p>I used to take tremendous pride in my athleticism; so much so, I got a tattoo to celebrate some of my accomplishments. My friend Chris stood in a doorway watching when the needle first pierced my skin to etch my pride, my joy, what I lived for, on my leg. Chris is a friend that has been by my side at every pivotal moment from my teenage years, to this day. She shows up for me, always. In fact, the first night she spent away from her kids was to support me during my second Half Iron distance triathlon, so it only made sense for her to be there when I got the tattoo.</p><p>People have invested so much into me and my athleticism. I invested so much into me and my athleticism, so to let it all go is, quite frankly, embarrassing. To go from self propelling myself 26.2 miles by foot, and 70.3 miles by swim bike run, to struggling with getting out of the house with my sneakers on is not a good feeling. It sucks...</p><p>So how does one go from Couch to Athlete back to Couch? I wish I could put my finger on the moment my life started shifting back to couch, but that is expending energy on my past, when I should be expending energy on today. I would love to make some big declaration that I'm going to change everything starting today, but that would be unrealistic. What I can do is try... After all:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl_L3lU-hUs1Vh9p4k6jMh2Qns9Xcua3jhYbBq8p0R8j0NmrUEiG5hC-oEWPHOIUjdnXE_ADq0qX1Yv8gM7QngrBZWNCqdVraecErZFKa4IM-wJmNffELb3J1Qeg6TGefmWBNbDjQlwCNm/s564/8f0c1496fee8a28eb134a9de21a4f94d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="564" data-original-width="564" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl_L3lU-hUs1Vh9p4k6jMh2Qns9Xcua3jhYbBq8p0R8j0NmrUEiG5hC-oEWPHOIUjdnXE_ADq0qX1Yv8gM7QngrBZWNCqdVraecErZFKa4IM-wJmNffELb3J1Qeg6TGefmWBNbDjQlwCNm/s320/8f0c1496fee8a28eb134a9de21a4f94d.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">So, as of today, I will again TRY!!!</span></b></p>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12587125181578567948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540224850415525129.post-31715230406001847532019-08-12T21:22:00.003-04:002019-08-12T21:22:22.425-04:00What is Enough?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We all know exercise is good for us, and necessary, but doing it is another story. As I stated just a couple of weeks ago, I want it... I want it so bad!!! If that is the case, why is it so damn hard? Well a wise woman once told me, several years ago when I was struggling so hard, "you must not want it bad enough." Oh, and the truth hurt... I mean, how could she be so flippant with my feelings of despair? Well, I decided to show her how wrong she was; I signed up and did half ironman number two.<br />
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So, was she right? Well she was right about one thing, I wanted to prove her wrong bad enough, and I did...<br />
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However, her point was not lost on me. You have to want something bad enough to choose to do it, change it, manage it.<br />
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<li>I'm unhealthy and I want health bad enough...</li>
<li>I'm not exercising much and I want that next half ironman bad enough... </li>
<li>I can't bend and tie my shoes as easily as I used to and I want to take care of myself bad enough...</li>
<li>I get fatigued quickly, and can't walk as much as I want to, and I want to stay ambulatory bad enough...</li>
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I guess no one has ticked me off bad enough to prove them wrong. That must means it is time to do it for me, and only me. I need to prove myself wrong? Yeah, that sounds right, right? Well, I also recognize that wanting something bad enough, really isn't enough. If you don't have the tools, you might not achieve your goals. </div>
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A couple of sayings that drive me nuts:</div>
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<li>Pull yourself up by your boot straps...</li>
<li>Teach a man to fish...</li>
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So what happens if you don't have boots, or straps? What if you don't have a fishing net, line or a pole? Well, in that case you might not be able to catch fish or pull yourself up.</div>
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If you don't have the resources, the knowledge might not be enough! In my case, I have all of the resources. Check out my garage and you will find five bicycles, closet has new pairs of running shoes, drawers are full of running shorts and shirts, key chain has my gym access tag, swimming suits in another drawer, not to mention the foam rollers, yoga mat, resistance bands, kettle ball, dumbbells, need I say more? So with the tools and knowledge, why is it still so hard? </div>
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I must need a new enough... And damn it, I will sift through every grain of sand to find it!!!</div>
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<i>Next time I will tell you about a research study for which I am a subject, and how I hope it will connect the resources and knowledge to help me find my enough.</i></div>
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12587125181578567948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540224850415525129.post-63780832402809507982019-07-26T18:42:00.001-04:002019-07-26T18:42:18.229-04:00Iron Cowboy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I just watched Iron Cowboy...</div>
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Not that you need my life story, but to impress on you the importance of what this story just did for me, I must start with mine!</div>
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On June 12, 2013, three days before my first half ironman distance race I received a dreaded phone call from my doctor. The staff member on the other end of the line asked me if I wanted to wait until my doctor's appointment in two weeks for the results of my testing or get my results over the phone. I asked to receive them over the phone. She spent time confirming my identity and then told me what I had suspected from my first appointment with the neurologist... She said, I'm really sorry I have to tell you this, but you do have Multiple Sclerosis.</div>
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That was the first day of my new life and I had a choice... Show up for 70.3 miles on Sunday, or wallow in this new information. You see, many years before this, in 2003 to be exact, I did my first sprint distance triathlon. I was grossly over weight, barely trained for the run, and miraculously finished the race. This cycle continued for several years, and for some reason in 2009 I decided to change my narrative by getting healthy. I took losing weight off the table, although I joined weight watchers to learn how to eat better, and focused on getting healthy. I wanted to spend the next three years working on improving each sport in triathlon. I was a strong swimmer so I didn't worry about that too much and focused my first year on cycling. I rode my bike, and rode it a little more, and then a little more. I threw in a sprint distance triathlon, but primarily rode my way through life that year. </div>
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2010 had to be my year for running, so I did just that. I signed up for a half marathon and found this insane love of running. I do want to say that elitists of the sport scoff when I called my 13 minute miles running, but this is where my empathy kicks in. Much like the Iron Cowboy's experience with people devaluing his 505050 because he used the elliptical for one of his marathons, people cringed at my delight over finishing my first half marathon. I couldn't stop with a half, so I went on to run a full in 2011. </div>
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You see, all of this focus on a specific sport was leading up to the ultimate goal of one day doing an Olympic distance triathlon (or whatever the current term is). In 2012 I signed up and was so excited for this race that I over trained and ended up with a stress fracture. I thought I was done, but with a little determination, and an elliptical trainer, I got myself healthy enough to be released to start running and participate in the triathlon CAREFULLY. That was my doctor's word. I was lucky that my doctor was an avid runner himself and his first love was sports medicine. He would always encourage me to keep running, and in fact told me after I was diagnosed with MS that I could become an ultra runner for all he cared, as long as I kept moving. </div>
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So, he and I were both surprised when I walked in his office in 2013 complaining of a numb tongue, electric back, twitching eyelid (and I mean never stopped for 2 years), lack of coordination, tingling in my hands and feet, loss of words when trying to speak and memory loss, oh the memory loss. I told him I was scared to talk about all of these symptoms because I didn't want him to think I was crazy... So what was his first reaction? He chalked the eyelid up to stress until I told him it had been doing that for two years. He talked about the memory loss and word loss as stress as well. When I started talking about tingling, falling, tripping, loss of balance, etc. He decided it was time for a neurologist, who I affectionately call my brain doctor.</div>
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Ironically, when all of this doctoring started I was in the best shape of my life. I mean, I was training for a half ironman for goodness sake, so I couldn't understand why the endorphins and serotonin and all that science stuff wasn't making my memory 'sharper'. Must have just been crazy!</div>
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After a few month process I had a name for my crazy. My crazy was MS and at first I actually wished my diagnosis was 'crazy' rather than MS because my vision of the disease was wheelchairs, walkers, canes, and depends. (Let's not talk about which of those tools I have used from time to time since diagnosis.)</div>
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So you may be asking at this point, where is all of this going? Well, as I mentioned earlier, I got the dreaded phone call from my doctor's office just three days before my first half ironman. I had to do it. My sister, one of my biggest cheerleaders, was doing it, too. It was both of our first. She knew I could do it, but I wasn't sure that I could emotionally do it. I made the 9 hour drive, jumped in the frigid lake and swam. I found my medicine in that race. I swam, I rode, and then I did some sort of moving two legs across the earth to get me to the finish line. I'm not sure what I was doing, but I did it. 8 hours and 20 minutes later I emerged from the woods as the last standing athlete of the day. My brother in law and his friends, who all finished several hours before me, were there. They waited. The minute I saw these people who I knew for one day, running toward me to cheer me on, I knew I had just done something spectacular. My hard!!!</div>
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Over the next several months I learned more about MS, some of my symptoms worsened, my sister told me not to settle for the sideline, and I didn't. I kept moving, until one day I didn't...</div>
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My last big accomplishment was in 2017. That same sister who has always encouraged my athletic pursuits sent me a simple text: I signed up for the Chicago Marathon. My immediate response was: I'm in. What I didn't realize at the time is she didn't just sign up, she signed up as a charity runner for the Multiple Sclerosis Society. I found my way to the website, filled out the registration form and then told another one of my friend's about the race and I believe she was signed up about 20 minutes later. We had a team. A team of three individuals who lived in different locations, ran different paces, but were all going to support eachother and get to the finish line of this marathon. We did! Some more painfully than others (heat and I are not friends). We celebrated, and that was it...</div>
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And I mean it... That was it! That was my last significant athletic pursuit, except for the MS 150 that turned into an MS 60 due to my limited training, and weather cancellation of the second day.</div>
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Other then that this is what I have accomplished since my marathon:</div>
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<li>I moved from Ohio to Wisconsin for a fabulous job</li>
<li>I had my gallbladder removed and found myself on the wrong side of the statistics related to complications</li>
<li>I learned that the very job I moved for was going to be eliminated (but so was my old job)</li>
<li>And I gained 60 pounds</li>
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That list could go on, but then it would simply sound like 'whoa is me'. I'm not going to say that because I know, and have always known, that I can take control of my life if I choose to, but deciding to face THE HARD is a real thing. Knowing what is right for you doesn't make that first step easier, so here I sit, about to lose my job, 60 pounds heavier, salivating at every runner and cyclist who pass my house wanting to become that again, but my God, the work it is going to take to get me there. I haven't been able to find it in me to take that first step. I've tried several times, but it hasn't stuck. I have to make the choice and seek out the stuck...</div>
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Many years ago, when I found my love for running, I found a book that propelled me forward. The book is <u>Run the Edge</u> by Tim Catalano and Adam Goucher. I'm not sure if I liked it and them because they went to my alma mater or because they were cute, but the one thing I know now is that their one major tag line could resonate with anyone... Make someday today... Think about how many times a person says someday, and if we say it for life, well that someday will never come.</div>
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And then I watched this movie...</div>
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That which I am pushing off is seemingly impossible, but that is because it is hard. Because of this story, I find myself knowing that I need to "redefine impossible", face what is hard, and "make someday today."</div>
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This is what this story has done for me. Typically I would be saying to myself, I'll get my stuff pulled together tomorrow so I can start on Sunday. Screw that!!! I'm going to pull my stuff together today so I can start today!!!</div>
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Despite MS, despite it seeming impossible, I will rise again!!!</div>
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Iron Cowboy, thank you for that!</div>
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Sarah</div>
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PS. Check out the movie on Netflix. It was a random find, was not recommended, and I have never met this dude... But if I did, I would say thank you!</div>
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12587125181578567948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540224850415525129.post-40105004123469105332018-07-22T17:17:00.003-04:002018-07-22T17:17:52.216-04:00From Thinking to Doing <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Cloudy Day in Wisconsin</td></tr>
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Last you heard from me on this blog I lived in Ohio. In the last year I left my people in Ohio to start a new adventure in Wisconsin. I love Wisconsin, I love my job, I love my life but I desperately miss my Ohio people.<br />
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So where to start? Well, I think it important to reflect on the last 9 months so you can understand my journey back to the blog. Last year I was training for the Chicago Marathon and I was travelling a ton leading up to the Marathon. I was fortunate to be in DC because my sister was willing to do a lot of my training with me. The week before the marathon I had very significant symptoms of a gallbladder attack and my doctor told me I was alright to go for it, run the marathon. As I was walking out the door to drive to Chicago for the marathon I received a phone call offering me this job in Wisconsin. Let's just say it was an interesting drive that started out with me saying there was NO way I was going to take the job, to half way through the drive calling my new supervisor to accept the position. I am not going to unpack all of that story here, but I do have to say I'm glad I came, but am sorry for some of the missteps I made along the way to get here.<br />
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Anyway, in regards to the marathon, I crossed the finish line to some of the best supporters. Unfortunately, it was a hot day, and although I got a medal and crossed the finish line before they shut it down, my time was still too slow to be an official finisher.<br />
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Then came Thanksgiving, about 9 day prior to starting my new job in Wisconsin gallbladder pain struck again, so bad that I went to the emergency room. They admitted me, kept me overnight and then sent me home to pack my house and head to Wisconsin. I got to Wisconsin, started my job, loved everything about where I was living, went to the emergency room TWICE for my pain and eventually found a doctor who advised me to have the darn thing removed. That is just what I did...<br />
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I felt great, until I didn't. Again, I don't want to unpack this whole story here, but let's just say I had a nice ambulance ride to the hospital, was admitted, and made myself at home with IVs and heart monitors all around. My godmother stayed with me until my sister showed up. My sister stayed in the hospital with me and then finally took me home. We decided to go house hunting with my realtor the day after I got out of the hospital and I was suddenly in contract for my charming little house.<br />
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So many little stories to tell along the way, but I basically spent four full months on the couch because I wasn't allowed to do any major activity. Many pounds gained, registered for an MS ride, and scared to do anything physical. I have had to fight with myself to exercise...<br />
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I remember when I was first getting involved in working out and how hard that was. It was like pulling teeth to get myself to do anything. I would think about everything... Who is watching, how far do I have to run, am I physically able to do this, is it safe, etc. And then suddenly I was just doing it. I wasn't thinking about it, but instead getting home, putting on my clothes and walking out the door because it felt so good.<br />
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I also remember when I was first diagnosed with MS and I wrote something about enjoying the sidelines. My sister called or texted to tell me she was concerned about me and that I needed to remember I could still run and do other physical activities. I remember this call and have stored it in my memory knowing I would recall the conversation when I needed it.<br />
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Here I am, needing it...<br />
Over the past nine months I have shifted from a doer to a thinker...<br />
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I have unpacked that memory with my sister and realized that I have a choice, and I choose to return to my life as a doer. </div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12587125181578567948noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540224850415525129.post-31158987079993921362017-07-27T19:53:00.000-04:002017-07-27T19:53:03.768-04:00On Traveling and Training<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's hard... The end...<br />
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No seriously, traveling and training equals extremely tough combination, but somehow I'm managing. You know what else is tough? One hundred plus degree heat index is tough as well, but managing that is somehow easier for me. It simply means accept 20 minute per mile trots with random ultra-marathoners on the trail. So what is in this traveling thing that makes it so difficult? Work, unfamiliar trails, exhaustion, unfamiliar territory and then navigating it all.<br />
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I have found myself going back to my hotel, laying across my bed for a little bit and then strapping on my shoes to escape from technology for awhile.<br />
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I think what I am learning though is that when traveling, motivation is harder to find and self discipline is so much more important.<br />
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12587125181578567948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540224850415525129.post-24828171330530665162017-07-09T21:34:00.000-04:002017-07-09T21:34:29.824-04:00Please, Do NOT Call an Ambulance...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have decided it has been too long. Now that I am several weeks into marathon training it is time to come back to the blog. I love being able to go back to my last marathon training cycle and read about the ups and downs, and quite honestly, I'm looking forward to being able to come back to this training cycle when I train for another marathon.<br />
<br />
I have to say that this cycle has been trying for me as my abilities have changed over the years. It isn't better or worse, as I'm fairly certain the last marathon I trained for had trying times as well. I will say this is different because of how my participation in events and running clubs impact other people.<br />
<br />
I am constantly saying to people who join new programs or try new things that regardless of their journey to that 'event', they belong there. I live by this and believe it is true. If you joining a new club, or trying something new, or trying something again, regardless of your abilities and skills you DO belong and should feel welcome. Here is the thing, the feeling welcome part is difficult because it is 50% your responsibility to feel welcome, and 50% other people's responsibility to help you feel welcome. This is where I am struggling these days...<br />
<br />
My participation in races has been fairly sparse this year. I did the Pi day 5k, the Soldier Field 10 miler, the Pride 5k, and the Clintonville 4 on the 4th. Each of these races have special meaning for me:<br />
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Pi day 5k was done side by side with the two most important ladies in my life...</li>
<li>Soldier Field 10 miler was once again completed with the unwavering support and 'catch' from my big sister, who I greatly admire...</li>
<li>Pride 5k which I did with a friend I haven't raced with in YEARS...</li>
<li>Clintonville 4 on the 4th which is the first race I was willing to toe the line of alone, since I have been diagnosed with MS...</li>
</ul>
<br />
Although I am blessed to have had these four experiences, I find myself struggling with the sense of belonging at these events, and even at my running club, and I'm in the process of exploring where the responsibility lies. I also want to acknowledge that I will absolutely accept the responsibility if I find it is my own, but if I'm being honest with myself, I do believe it is a shared responsibility. You see, fellow runners, everyone should feel like they are welcome and belong. I know some people disagree, but I promise that I will embrace every person who wants to experience the thrill of a race, regardless of their ability.<br />
<br />
Reflecting on my job during high school, it is hugely ironic that I spent a lot of time helping people with physical and developmental disabilities with recreational, and sporting activities. I spent time teaching swim lessons, coaching softball, coaching track, and simply hanging out on Navy Pier on a Friday night, bowling, gardening, you name it, we did it!!! The true irony though is that many of the people I worked with during recreational swimming or on Friday nights had Multiple Sclerosis. I've come full circle perhaps? What I learned from all of the amazing people I worked with during those days is that everyone should have the ability to participate in anything regardless of ability.<br />
<br />
This is where my sense of belonging has been challenged in the running community. If you have ever seen me post run, you may have been worried about me... One notable moment that still grates at me was after the Pride 5k. The brilliance of this event is that it was designed to be one of acceptance of all individuals. I guess that some people forgot that at the end of the race. The day was 93 degrees, the race was at 6:00 in the evening and I was hot as hell. Like many people on the course I struggled the whole way, running down the hills and feeling like the only way up the hills was by way of crawling. I managed to finish the race, and was thankful that my friend was there for me at the finish line. She helped me stumble to a comfy place in the grass and went into 'find Sarah something cold mode'... And that she did...<br />
<br />
Where the night gets frustrating for me was when I landed not so graciously in the grass and one of the women behind me started asking me if I was OK. I knew that I would be just fine in a little bit, and rather than tell my life story in the moment I simply said to the woman that this was typical and I just needed to cool off and I'd be fine. She scoffed... Another woman was kind and offered up her towel so I could cool down. The original woman said, 'this is typical? kind of dramatic don't you think?' At this point I was pissed... Seriously??? What happened to acceptance and decency. I didn't know how to respond and so I made some flippant comment about how I have MS, and I wish I didn't have it so that I wouldn't have dramatic conclusions to runs.<br />
<br />
Since then I have been gun shy. It took everything in me to sign up for the 4 miler, knowing I would be doing the race alone... At my run club, which I typically love, I find myself feeling apologetic about my being there. And I sometimes feel as though my presence is bothersome to other people. Is this perceived? I truly hope so...<br />
<br />
I honestly would rather this be my issue, but the only way I can figure that out is by continuing to show up and show people that I too belong. By doing that, I think I will begin to believe it again.<br />
<br />
I just ask one thing folks... If you see me stumbling after a run, feel free to treat me like you would any other runner, but please do NOT call an ambulance...<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12587125181578567948noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540224850415525129.post-78066384667190495422017-02-22T21:10:00.002-05:002017-02-22T21:10:42.055-05:00The Great Return<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_RenPDKKe_fRKWFZfMw0eA_6xWDIRWUlb9SOHqsqiuRTN9fzVbvU0BoiUFCzXSqLFaT-qoKR32g_vDf8xZGQtUzikED9qGmE8dulogofz1bDKyt6fjllQ6k4e6UmaFqK9FbwXa8YLARsZ/s1600/Me+and+mile+13+with+Ericc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_RenPDKKe_fRKWFZfMw0eA_6xWDIRWUlb9SOHqsqiuRTN9fzVbvU0BoiUFCzXSqLFaT-qoKR32g_vDf8xZGQtUzikED9qGmE8dulogofz1bDKyt6fjllQ6k4e6UmaFqK9FbwXa8YLARsZ/s320/Me+and+mile+13+with+Ericc.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picture from my first marathon!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It has been quite some time since I have opened up my computer to write a post, and it is officially time to get back to it. What I have learned during my three month hiatus is that I am much more consistent with my exercise routine when I am actively blogging. Now is the time to become more accountable again, accountable to myself!<br />
<br />
So, where did we leave off back in November?<br />
<br />
I just had the most fantastic Auntie Sarah Gobble Gobble Home Grown 5k. This event was fantastic, with just over 33 people participating or cheering on the crowd. It was so phenomenal that I have already set up the Facebook event for the 3rd annual event to be held Thanksgiving morning in 2017.<br />
<br />
In addition, I have been working on becoming consistent with my Chicago Marathon training. Some would say the weather has been perfect for said training, and I can't dispute that fact. What I will say is that my attitude has waned a bit. My bestie and running buddy always has significant obligations that make it difficult for her to run the first few months of the year. My other running buddy has kiddos, which make her schedule fluctuate a bit.<br />
<br />
Where am I now?<br />
<br />
Well, what you likely read above is that I have been a slacker, and I'm trying to push the blame to my people, however, that shouldn't mean anything. What should really motivate me is showing up for myself, and myself alone. Of course, because I use the word should, that means I haven't been doing it as consistently as I would like. <br />
<br />
Where the heck am I going then?<br />
<br />
I'm at some crossroads, and I know for certain that I am going to take the journey down the road that leads to the Chicago marathon... Rather than running three days a week, whatever distance feels good, I'm headed straight to my pal Hal Higdon's training schedules to guide my efforts.<br />
<br />
I have to say, some motivation for me has been watching my good friend Solitare train for her first 5k. It is so fun watching someone work toward achieving their new goal. With that said, Sue and I will be running Solitare's first 5k with her in March!!!<br />
<br />
What all of this means is I will intentionally work towards the Chicago Marathon by setting weekly goals every Sunday night. The goals are intended to make me accountable and define what is to come. I will return to my weekly stories of my marathon journey, and invite you to come along for the ride!<br />
<br />
Thank you for reading.</div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12587125181578567948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540224850415525129.post-27317582734302241142016-11-29T17:27:00.000-05:002016-11-29T17:27:04.689-05:00Second Annual - Auntie Sarah's Incredible Gobble Gobble Home Grown 5k<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIB_VZr-5NMTqS4Y0h8q93wXdW7LKCu5oz3Tm5dr6yO61-s8OZhS4WS5J105o32jCYPHx9DOxzCXvxd9nX_qQ6lnwpVmM6aLFpYHtS200n9LZX4rm9aphyphenhyphenEjPlbEOVACP4Ghh-dA19JW2y/s1600/Runners.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIB_VZr-5NMTqS4Y0h8q93wXdW7LKCu5oz3Tm5dr6yO61-s8OZhS4WS5J105o32jCYPHx9DOxzCXvxd9nX_qQ6lnwpVmM6aLFpYHtS200n9LZX4rm9aphyphenhyphenEjPlbEOVACP4Ghh-dA19JW2y/s320/Runners.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Runners</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
For a second year in a row, my friends and family toed the line of our own personal turkey trot. The reason I started this 5k, one year ago, was to give everyone the ability to go to the same spot and get their exercise on Thanksgiving morning. It used to be that many of us participated in various 5ks around the Chicago area, but in large masses of people we didn't know, and were lucky if we actually ran into people we knew at the end. It also used to be that we all paid approximately fifty bucks a piece to participate in said races. I finally said NO MORE! Let's do something fun that wouldn't require huge entry fees, and would be all inclusive.<br />
<br />
Last year there were approximately 15 of us who came out to walk, run or spectate. I thought that was hugely successful. What happened this year? We doubled in size and 34 of my family and friends came out to have fun on Thanksgiving morning.<br />
<br />
Also, new this year, we had a food drive. It just so happens that all of us participating in our friend and family 5k are very fortunate. None of us need for anything, and so I asked folks to donate food, if they were willing. I collected a small lot of food, and have delivered it to a food pantry for distribution. Albeit a small donation, it was a much appreciated donation.<br />
<br />
So, what did this race net participants? Hugs galore, friendly faces, donuts, muffins, coffee, water (on course), and the best homemade 'medals' a person could ask for (I'm biased, I made them all).<br />
<br />
So, if you find yourself in the Chicago land area in 2017, please consider the third annual Aunti Sarah's Incredible Gobble Gobble Home Grown 5k.<br />
<br />
Here are some pictures from the hugely successful day!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCkCa1avhlIWlxAwbseHS8IR4-uGQZDvzsLzc4jE_qoYL50nzzGH2W7sxMqJEvhItjqI0Q6MIXqrr-FxyoVyjwMUFnJ7gLwRW-hPI5t44qVc3zlh6uNj1DdP6z8xfdQjra0Orp2aTbObm3/s1600/Medals.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCkCa1avhlIWlxAwbseHS8IR4-uGQZDvzsLzc4jE_qoYL50nzzGH2W7sxMqJEvhItjqI0Q6MIXqrr-FxyoVyjwMUFnJ7gLwRW-hPI5t44qVc3zlh6uNj1DdP6z8xfdQjra0Orp2aTbObm3/s320/Medals.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Medals</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw5s7CebJyMK5AvduXpOxuql64J4kHnpzekyasALuE1G4hKZGvqLfjt__EhZ7wAAbftVlzoG306MAxLtBSU8654lGSGkZtngBdiI9Y6sQqIlel6j7_NDDalOu33Og0hkCwM_m7Z7W6o8IR/s1600/Alaina.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw5s7CebJyMK5AvduXpOxuql64J4kHnpzekyasALuE1G4hKZGvqLfjt__EhZ7wAAbftVlzoG306MAxLtBSU8654lGSGkZtngBdiI9Y6sQqIlel6j7_NDDalOu33Og0hkCwM_m7Z7W6o8IR/s320/Alaina.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some Little People Finishing</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNxiEIELpGBCAYVtdIOtZXYKo0ir6Wfndy1v09MDLc5kUSa4Mv4ny-Ethpq29DOUBQoX6FDAeh55VNbFtwm_1ugcaXQQ0e7Re6juleTTzqk-3o2m8f7pbtLk0FGJpRCAyRutYmw4CpoMo9/s1600/Finish+line.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNxiEIELpGBCAYVtdIOtZXYKo0ir6Wfndy1v09MDLc5kUSa4Mv4ny-Ethpq29DOUBQoX6FDAeh55VNbFtwm_1ugcaXQQ0e7Re6juleTTzqk-3o2m8f7pbtLk0FGJpRCAyRutYmw4CpoMo9/s320/Finish+line.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finish Line</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid9TbwMgAZk5SrfXR95xj4wF9ksbe95pHUA3Tuh1WekAFzybApS-usrHa7myxX69Psm2WhALdvHJxNg2mIHSEWdW8U2LbXFxHvsl_tXxgIuXJshUZZOFTzATmuPtxVTSjpMMZ_GPaEXyKF/s1600/Finishers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid9TbwMgAZk5SrfXR95xj4wF9ksbe95pHUA3Tuh1WekAFzybApS-usrHa7myxX69Psm2WhALdvHJxNg2mIHSEWdW8U2LbXFxHvsl_tXxgIuXJshUZZOFTzATmuPtxVTSjpMMZ_GPaEXyKF/s320/Finishers.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finishers</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiytNHeuYQCizRgHxjCjoc61Jxug6DJ1fYMFHMRUv1rJa-_AoPZ_3-hXG8ATsDIIdNhqWeteCczZ8y16XTxjCBFUUYpVmnJTjFEvZyyy-dDagMPb7Kg5fT9FTihN6dkaGA1tV6y2bZLarcs/s1600/Friends.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiytNHeuYQCizRgHxjCjoc61Jxug6DJ1fYMFHMRUv1rJa-_AoPZ_3-hXG8ATsDIIdNhqWeteCczZ8y16XTxjCBFUUYpVmnJTjFEvZyyy-dDagMPb7Kg5fT9FTihN6dkaGA1tV6y2bZLarcs/s320/Friends.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some Family!!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_HlO_nRCVTOsTEwBAT_cA72G_WVJUc50OjKpe3-Qwt0fr7T5KoV7tt-Lf0MwOVR943vrDINK90plfRyUEDYMjtnh1SjtlxLt4S514EbBDzYjCdefLe1CeeqqxBr9PNmLhx5na3IAKPxDs/s1600/Turkey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_HlO_nRCVTOsTEwBAT_cA72G_WVJUc50OjKpe3-Qwt0fr7T5KoV7tt-Lf0MwOVR943vrDINK90plfRyUEDYMjtnh1SjtlxLt4S514EbBDzYjCdefLe1CeeqqxBr9PNmLhx5na3IAKPxDs/s320/Turkey.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Turkey</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheXBCseUN1qrLHdjIAYyM_YcT0f82Ctl5BRWasGnff6kpm7OEoZEiPA-90-g-roKlvhHFronDdtJE9GuKAsPQthutDxRox99liViWK28HZ5sy4mOC3MvXN2T00EwUK1JRByg-g_qETcOIL/s1600/The+other+Turkey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheXBCseUN1qrLHdjIAYyM_YcT0f82Ctl5BRWasGnff6kpm7OEoZEiPA-90-g-roKlvhHFronDdtJE9GuKAsPQthutDxRox99liViWK28HZ5sy4mOC3MvXN2T00EwUK1JRByg-g_qETcOIL/s320/The+other+Turkey.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The other Turkey</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12587125181578567948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540224850415525129.post-90887941781747800562016-11-15T19:43:00.001-05:002016-11-15T19:43:17.809-05:00What is Resilience?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgauCwd2ru_9R_Pu06dBFAXNauSLB9EjJBp8AAeGvzr-TPGxnktOK-ZsWeQy_1yZXDManxKmMkYVgxeE6fN-srq3g63INXEKzF7bEuFlnHYOtm4NVwS8-MeASBdBmO6YN58HJ-thfMD1DWP/s1600/Cane.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgauCwd2ru_9R_Pu06dBFAXNauSLB9EjJBp8AAeGvzr-TPGxnktOK-ZsWeQy_1yZXDManxKmMkYVgxeE6fN-srq3g63INXEKzF7bEuFlnHYOtm4NVwS8-MeASBdBmO6YN58HJ-thfMD1DWP/s1600/Cane.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This, my friends, is resilience...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I've lost my blogging way the past month, actually the past year. The events that have taken place since I've last blogged have been somewhat surprising. Most notably, unless your head is in the sand, you have heard, the Chicago Cubs won the World Series, Donald Trump was elected president of the United States, and I registered for my second marathon. And you know what? The world is still revolving.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />Am I happy about all of the most current events? Nope, but this is what I posted to my parents:</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">To mom and dad: Thank you for raising me to be a thoughtful, kind hearted, loving person. The past 24 hours have knocked the wind out of my sails, more so than being diagnosed with ms. Because of you, I will practice resilience. Just pray that the affordable Care act is not fully obliterated. But that too will work itself out... To the best parents who have always given me the best, taught me the best, modeled the best, I love you and am thankful for the moral compass you instilled in me...</span></blockquote>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I want to sit with the most important word in that post to my parents: RESILIENCE!!! One of the things us athletes know is that set backs are part of the environment. The set backs are not what define us, but rather the response to the set backs. I was having a conversation with a friend in recent days about how I can get stuck from time to time, even run away, and that is not what I want to be known for. Go back and look at my post about the hard thing rule... Running away is not allowed. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
So how does our good friend google define resilience? The capacity to recover quickly from difficulties; toughness. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
There are some things in life that shave away at the lining of our toughness, but that doesn't mean we should hold back. I have encountered a number of things that have thinned my toughness skin, but I refuse to give up, as I'd rather be a bit weak and ask for help, than so callused that I don't try anything new. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
With that being said, I'm freaked out by this marathon I signed up for, and I am guessing that I am going to hit speed bumps through the year of training, but what I do know is that every speed bump will color my journey, and resilience will be one of my hard thing rules...</div>
</div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12587125181578567948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540224850415525129.post-51668688764333627782016-10-11T20:36:00.000-04:002016-10-11T20:36:04.921-04:00Avoid the Crisis<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have yet to master the art form of asking for help. Instead it goes something like this...<br />
<br />
I'm working on something and it gets hard, so I set it down. I realize I need to keep working on it and so I go and look at it for a little bit, decide I'll get a small chunk done but the attempt at the small chunk falls flat, so I walk away again, maybe even after setting my tools down harshly. I try to forget about it for awhile and lose some sleep but can't figure out why (or should I say, won't face why). The project continues to sit and all the tools and resources needed to get the job done slowly get put away, or more accurately lost. I eventually just forget that it was even something I was working on, until out of nowhere it is right in front of my face again, no warning and instead of being just something I was working on, it is now a crisis.<br />
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If only I had asked for help in the beginning, when it first presented itself as hard, right?<br />
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Thinking back on my early days of athleticism, I remember when I would 'train' for a sprint triathlon and would find myself 12 weeks out from the race. What would I do in those circumstances? I would dive into training that first week and go for one run, and a swim; forget the bike because it was too cold! And it was always hard, so I would sit back down on the couch and remind myself that I still had 11 weeks and I would be fine and say to myself, "I'll get started with the training next week". Next week would come and I would have the same conversation with myself recognizing I had 10 weeks, and so on and so forth. And then two weeks before the race, crisis mode would set in and I would 'cram' for the event.<br />
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While this training strategy works for some, it certainly doesn't work for me. If only I asked for help in the beginning, like a training buddy? Those days would have been so much easier. Now I have some solid training buddies so it makes things a lot easier...<br />
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But let's take a step back and look at why one might not ask for help. Is it because they tried, but didn't get it? Is it because they are scared of being found incompetent? Is it because they don't want the world to know they aren't strong?<br />
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I don't know the answer to any of these questions, but I do know they are questions to be explored because until I figure out the best way to ask, I will continue to create awkward personal crisis that could have been averted by just saying, hey I need some help!</div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12587125181578567948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540224850415525129.post-71684592411780057472016-10-02T20:57:00.001-04:002016-10-02T20:57:15.045-04:00I'm Coming for You!!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwqucA9ySeneMsd1Cnl1zVvXk0dZmlxOG3Yza3CqRg56r9CWXe7x5qVXLjC0JDCBKVZMw4PT9Klwuy_ANShOXuPQcEG0-yhRCSgXuqXI7_oF0VJ-pxuDVwsV_EDPBy1JCvJWWg0sK5M36h/s1600/I%2527m+coming+for+you.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwqucA9ySeneMsd1Cnl1zVvXk0dZmlxOG3Yza3CqRg56r9CWXe7x5qVXLjC0JDCBKVZMw4PT9Klwuy_ANShOXuPQcEG0-yhRCSgXuqXI7_oF0VJ-pxuDVwsV_EDPBy1JCvJWWg0sK5M36h/s320/I%2527m+coming+for+you.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
Am I really an exercise bully? I don't think so. I just invite people to join me on various athletic adventures and then use some of the following expressions to be convincing: come on, you know you want to, if I can do it you can too, it's only 150 miles, it will be tons of fun, you must not like me, and if all else fails I cry!<br />
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At least that is how it has been explained to me a couple of times. I don't believe it!!!<br />
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So, this past week, as I was coming down from my amazing adventure with my sisters and my awesome friend, I found myself lazing on the couch, well actually the hotel room bed, and then the couch. ALL WEEK!!! And you know what? It was kind of nice, especially this weekend. I was able to wake up in the morning and do whatever I felt like doing without regard to a training schedule. It was freeing!!! Until it wasn't...<br />
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On Saturday I woke up and finished making some soup and stew, made some deliveries and then went and bought a big kid bed for my guest bedroom. And then today, I spent my time with two of my friends, first at a barn sale with one friend, and then at an ice cream parlor and on the couch with the other. It was so nice to have that time with no agenda, and I want to make sure I'm better at making one of my weekend days exercise free, notice I did not say agenda free!<br />
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Now with all that being said, I also found myself planning out my 2018 exercise plan. A few weeks ago I announced that I will do another half ironman, and then I officially invited people to participate in a 2018 Rock & Roll MS ride in Memphis. Let's just say that although I spent my week in a lazy state, my mind was still exercising its' right to plan!<br />
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Don't be surprised if you are the recipient of my convincing ways in the near future...</div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12587125181578567948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540224850415525129.post-7042538957463316272016-09-26T20:23:00.003-04:002016-09-26T20:23:52.100-04:00Bavarian Breakaway - A Weekend of Fun!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxhyphenhyphenJj6_NcyWAnxKtZH2wlw5V7fvPmL1guquuvgu0iLsQzWFYcvgz5DjhG1m9yg4mJY4fp2ptnU-RiyZDy3g0m13oOL6QjWNMvS1gB6k5GjDUZB7h956je8u3bQPWRSy6MMHPSeHhO1Qwj/s1600/John.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxhyphenhyphenJj6_NcyWAnxKtZH2wlw5V7fvPmL1guquuvgu0iLsQzWFYcvgz5DjhG1m9yg4mJY4fp2ptnU-RiyZDy3g0m13oOL6QjWNMvS1gB6k5GjDUZB7h956je8u3bQPWRSy6MMHPSeHhO1Qwj/s200/John.jpg" width="112" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm gonna win!!!</td></tr>
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#BikeJoy</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
#BikeMS</div>
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#MS150</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
#Ohmybunion</div>
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All of these are random hashtags that can be seen on my, and my teammates, social media accounts <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1quDdBe4deEpE_uI_ePzy8B7m0zdRls9XtWVXLMH3WDyX1M1_5s-Bof7N5RCaZE-XyoAmHd2D0V0DIq_Joq-WYYQJhY2M19ncBueZVmDbZuJL3WOKKJyaA2it0zry4dyyEThDbQ1tIh4B/s1600/IMG_20160924_102002144.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1quDdBe4deEpE_uI_ePzy8B7m0zdRls9XtWVXLMH3WDyX1M1_5s-Bof7N5RCaZE-XyoAmHd2D0V0DIq_Joq-WYYQJhY2M19ncBueZVmDbZuJL3WOKKJyaA2it0zry4dyyEThDbQ1tIh4B/s200/IMG_20160924_102002144.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My team!!! Rockin their tie-dye</td></tr>
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from this weekend. Why you may ask? Well most of my readers know why... My small but mighty team of 4 rode a collective total of 600 miles on our bicycles this weekend, to raise money for Multiple Sclerosis.<br />
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Not only did the four of us ride, we also had a small but mighty team of supporters who came along to be there to provide support, hugs, diet coke, laughs, stories, sweaters, more laughs and love along the way. Our cheering section showed up with their tie-dyed shirts and waved the figurative flag for team Ridin' for Myelin! It was fantastic to see the smiling faces as we approached rest stops at the top of hills, when our bikes were broken, or when we just needed a high five or a hug!<br />
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To add to all of that awesomeness, because of all of YOU supporters, to date, we have raised $6,510 to fund Multiple Sclerosis research!!! How cool is that?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdYO-_l0j8hwUkwty-fEZf-8lMKhV81PJezAYUbvFdxiKcwFlg1Ms_sIZ_3AM-yyJy1bLVdKE1zasUvtszzvsVr2CFABwqNVIopIhyGdwVIh7EBBLcgpgdstyOzrFQ1Z9cUcjhY7D01k0I/s1600/IMG_20160924_114815208.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdYO-_l0j8hwUkwty-fEZf-8lMKhV81PJezAYUbvFdxiKcwFlg1Ms_sIZ_3AM-yyJy1bLVdKE1zasUvtszzvsVr2CFABwqNVIopIhyGdwVIh7EBBLcgpgdstyOzrFQ1Z9cUcjhY7D01k0I/s200/IMG_20160924_114815208.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hay Bail Art</td></tr>
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And then there were all of the new friends that we made along the way. The Bavarian Breakaway was hands down the friendliest of events I have ever participated in. The staff, volunteers and other riders were amazing, so much so, one volunteer loaned me his bike seat for the day when mine suddenly cracked. Our cheerleaders made friends with the volunteers, my team made friends with other riders, and people remembered us along the course. It might be that our team was comprised of the most hilarious and appealing members, or it could have been our antics along the way (almost causing collisions so that we could take photos of wild turkeys, stopping on the road to examine roadkill, taking aspirin breaks, or taking the alternate route that may have added additional miles to the ride)... Regardless, I will always remember the couple we spent a lot of time with at rest stops, and that solo dude who was riding what appeared to be a mountain bike on a sometimes demanding hilly course (to us flatlanders) who we were happy to have join us for dinner to celebrate the ride!<br />
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With all of that said, I think the one thing that made this weekend epic was that I got to spend it with many of the leading ladies in my life!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYF35ZxtvFGiutOjzdsWSNXZ-apvjIzGeWIB0Tw_eeRwDq_pLv-liT8MlLPWRtM2nQlGg1wNG-QmYnmhgZlw1FBe7Lypjy9362b6jSFQauadr7wEhOqrO9ACGQY7xefx2Bo073SV0p5gkt/s1600/Roadkill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYF35ZxtvFGiutOjzdsWSNXZ-apvjIzGeWIB0Tw_eeRwDq_pLv-liT8MlLPWRtM2nQlGg1wNG-QmYnmhgZlw1FBe7Lypjy9362b6jSFQauadr7wEhOqrO9ACGQY7xefx2Bo073SV0p5gkt/s200/Roadkill.jpg" width="112" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I was driving down the road one day...<br />Someone hit a possum - BAM<br />The road was his end...<br />His end was the road...<br />So they say!!!"<br />PROOF!!!</td></tr>
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There are so many stories to tell ranging in topic from the expletive forest, the hammock saddle, roadkill art, shortcut girl, beef jerky, pasta pizza, razor misuse, snoring, mohawks, heat activated beads, broken hotel doors, Christmas stores, and on...<br />
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<br />
But my most important takeaways from this weekend include: Comma splices still don't make sense, my sisters are both fiercely protective, my best buddy can endure tremendous pain, I will still need to rewrite paragraphs to avoid using the words affect and effect, hay bales are for a lot more than king of the farm games, roadkill can look artful, and I have the best supporters around.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-6gxn4bS3r0TEsyiUCt182qivd51LqMGk5Bsbpb6pi3tP1XaqGOeOJZe3Q-26eTwPUGY6Crz_AVLxYBhrL4TDt-cIDcnF-GRzXHxFLRldViwCsXquDUDK0regtRnmc2SLGlbify-SoGQX/s1600/IMG_20160925_155248896.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-6gxn4bS3r0TEsyiUCt182qivd51LqMGk5Bsbpb6pi3tP1XaqGOeOJZe3Q-26eTwPUGY6Crz_AVLxYBhrL4TDt-cIDcnF-GRzXHxFLRldViwCsXquDUDK0regtRnmc2SLGlbify-SoGQX/s320/IMG_20160925_155248896.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Finish Line!</td></tr>
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<b>And here are some pictures for your viewing pleasure... Enjoy!!!</b><br /><br /><div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV2g52pe772X4E0xrJTrrycnPdjJtTPe77dHYD8iHaYpr_3V5i8ojqA4svmzU70z8W-hxQPlFmWM2XsbVFa81GXVaJ13LQGC5bt9K_7Z4XhtviLUxfZVWqxC4Bn6TaZ1NXgPxy6DlQ2B7-/s1600/IMG_20160925_155430823.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV2g52pe772X4E0xrJTrrycnPdjJtTPe77dHYD8iHaYpr_3V5i8ojqA4svmzU70z8W-hxQPlFmWM2XsbVFa81GXVaJ13LQGC5bt9K_7Z4XhtviLUxfZVWqxC4Bn6TaZ1NXgPxy6DlQ2B7-/s320/IMG_20160925_155430823.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Toasting with hohos...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhznzeAchqsiEHyCO48EFyqLkwGQk_u3AeplsBv6PQjp4lgpJsFaC8s074924lo3LyDmwOHVpZhgln9OPrjGR-Y_QijmZnaVZyJiI6H12KLTx0SAXYcRge4XZjaq5wCU1NudL0ib42Y3-y5/s1600/IMG_20160925_145113897.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhznzeAchqsiEHyCO48EFyqLkwGQk_u3AeplsBv6PQjp4lgpJsFaC8s074924lo3LyDmwOHVpZhgln9OPrjGR-Y_QijmZnaVZyJiI6H12KLTx0SAXYcRge4XZjaq5wCU1NudL0ib42Y3-y5/s320/IMG_20160925_145113897.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Town sign.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7qRDNWgHd3HjVrpAFzLWujyVP0jmqwIDrcdhCGYhB_u2zvxrSvImNDBmGCa64oyKNsB1uQsNHLC-MAyiKNMgJne7iApghGU-BNrGaLNGc09tam1hjg3FC_LtUhq1DAkZQ2MHAI2SY264G/s1600/IMG_20160925_141413105.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7qRDNWgHd3HjVrpAFzLWujyVP0jmqwIDrcdhCGYhB_u2zvxrSvImNDBmGCa64oyKNsB1uQsNHLC-MAyiKNMgJne7iApghGU-BNrGaLNGc09tam1hjg3FC_LtUhq1DAkZQ2MHAI2SY264G/s320/IMG_20160925_141413105.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Accidental selfie. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3LNWMPjKGWVMdbnM1qLfvylLe5eo32RDXLqobok6MtFQeU2sAq9_Mp8BuHEBcG-yW9PFfaE_rlUMNxS9RRdYvcWWkUPIsneoLbQKuHYWid8MoLUh6uKatJ1zbNFFQlIDf01dZImSg-ufJ/s1600/IMG_20160925_134558472.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3LNWMPjKGWVMdbnM1qLfvylLe5eo32RDXLqobok6MtFQeU2sAq9_Mp8BuHEBcG-yW9PFfaE_rlUMNxS9RRdYvcWWkUPIsneoLbQKuHYWid8MoLUh6uKatJ1zbNFFQlIDf01dZImSg-ufJ/s320/IMG_20160925_134558472.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A big ole thank you to my donors!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk7dSV3VMbRtWyV4WgBWLM9fLbkmWu_EnjFjmRWDPGGgHDRRmZhkUY4e2y0qD-fxwQpjqwaoMDdDaIcjfYh1_xJlm062eyntM2GOGmGA0404MtNLLvQzcYJS3UFaL8xSCUA9TEO_m3PEss/s1600/IMG_20160925_105506462.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk7dSV3VMbRtWyV4WgBWLM9fLbkmWu_EnjFjmRWDPGGgHDRRmZhkUY4e2y0qD-fxwQpjqwaoMDdDaIcjfYh1_xJlm062eyntM2GOGmGA0404MtNLLvQzcYJS3UFaL8xSCUA9TEO_m3PEss/s320/IMG_20160925_105506462.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another town selfie. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg94ZEZ7onIeO1BixZOY3ffh319DtvsqhlrVFUw_Goeoi2n2LDt3qAneL2asb7WyvrjmW_UKl-2wQ1M0cLR_0y40q5QTiKjZgu8_aiaSDOSbFh2leuUodkJ9xCPlYCYxHAOTqL7E4-swTbx/s1600/IMG_20160925_082409105.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg94ZEZ7onIeO1BixZOY3ffh319DtvsqhlrVFUw_Goeoi2n2LDt3qAneL2asb7WyvrjmW_UKl-2wQ1M0cLR_0y40q5QTiKjZgu8_aiaSDOSbFh2leuUodkJ9xCPlYCYxHAOTqL7E4-swTbx/s320/IMG_20160925_082409105.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>B</b>elieve it... <b>A</b>ll for Jane<b>ll</b> and <b>S</b>ue's pleasure...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Only missing two in this photo. </td></tr>
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12587125181578567948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540224850415525129.post-89325955984313308582016-09-12T21:05:00.000-04:002016-09-12T21:05:54.896-04:00the "Hard Thing Rule"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I found myself at my typical first stop of almost every road trip, on Friday. I was standing at the audio book rack at Cracker Barrel, trying to decide if I wanted a murder mystery, a comedy, or a self help book. Let me set this up for you though, I picked out three books to start, and the three genres all have some sort of meaning for me:<br />
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1) Murder Mystery: As of late, I have found myself overly entertained by television and fictional stories. Watching TV is typically my escape, and because I find myself watching so much TV lately, I can only assume that I have been living in a bit of an escape. It used to be that I would take baths to escape, but since those are off limits these days, I've defaulted to television. Quite honestly, I wasn't really in the mood for an escape.<br />
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2) Comedy: See murder mystery explanation and then add to it that I don't like comedy. In fact, I often tell my friends that I guess I don't like to laugh (tongue in cheek). But in all seriousness, unless it is over the top satire or Dumb and Dumber (no joke, ask my friend... I made her sit through Dumb and Dumberer for my birthday IN THE THEATER!!!) I am just not entertained by comedy I think it is because I grew up on bad dad jokes or something. Anyway, I again wasn't in the mood for escape, or a laugh (or lack there of).<br />
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3) Self Help: I always like to self help myself. In fact I'm always looking for ways to be better, but see point one... I have been somewhat addicted to escape and so I was leading towards my default, even though I really wasn't in the mood for my default.<br />
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Anyway, I walked around Cracker Barrel with all three books in my hand while looking at the random items for purchase, and then realized I was broke and needed to go with the cheapest book. I was happy with this decision until I looked at the prices and realized self help was the cheapest. I mean seriously, why was that? Psychology appointments cost like five hundred dollars an hour, the book was 9 hours long, you would think it would have been upwards of four thousand dollars? Alas, I purchased the book. Need I mention that if you return the book to Cracker Barrel within a week you get a refund minus three dollars for the book? So, cost shouldn't have been a factor, but self awareness set in, and I remembered that nine times out of ten I forget to return the book and I spend a bagillion dollars on a book that only mildly entertained me.<br />
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Anyway, after making this purchase, while scratching my way to the car (did I mention I have poison ivy on my entire body?) I convinced myself that I was going to put the first disk in and if I didn't like it I would stop at the next Cracker Barrel and return the darn thing and pick up a country music CD (my least favorite type of music) and turn it on repeat for six hours over the course of the weekend, as a means of causing noise for myself.<br />
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What happened though, was a bit of a miracle... The author was the narrator and she captured me at the prologue... Talking about her dad, and geniuses, and the fact that she isn't one, and so on and so forth. I found myself laughing right out of the gate. Quite honestly, that was probably the only time I laughed while listening to the book, but instead found myself diving deep into the world of self help that I think will help me in every facet of my life.<br />
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Forget that this is the blog of a determined athlete for the next sentence... This book that I picked up <u>Grit, the Power of Passion and Perseverance</u> happened to be of discussion at work recently, and I found myself drawn to the one excerpt I read, but because life happens and it was a tough week both professionally and personally I quickly forgot about my interest... But what I learned is that what I exhibited that exact week, when I was introduced to the book, was the exact opposite of grit. And so my desire to reflect on that and 'work' on that at work was the first big dip into self reflection I made.<br />
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I'm not going to focus on that work stuff here though... That is for me to explore with the help of my tremendous support system called my colleagues and boss... Instead I will focus on what this means for me athletically.<br />
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Aside from the book talking through the psychology of grit, grit scales, charts, research, research, research, all which mean nothing to me because I am a believer in experience, both yours and mine, I found myself engrossed in the stories of athletes, military personnel, KIPPsters and Teach for America participants. As I listened to how we as humans can learn grit from the 'outside in' and how our experiences in life teach us how to, or how not to, persevere, I found myself realizing that although I want to have exponential grit, I sometimes rest on my laurels and simply say "I can't". In fact, I have found myself saying I can't a lot lately... I can't run in the heat, I can't have my air conditioner above 68 degrees, I can't sit outside in the heat, I can't stop scratching this stupid poison ivy, I can't, I can't, I can't...<br />
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What if my parents always let me default to I can't? Well, if they did, I would probably still be scared of airplanes, I probably would never have been on an awesome softball team with a bunch of girls I didn't know... Fast forward to adulthood. If I lived in a world of I can't, I would never have been a person to cross the starting line, or the finish line of any race. Add MS to the equation and I would never have participated in my second half ironman this summer. And so with that, I will say that I am lucky to have been nurtured by my parents, first and foremost, in exploring the I CAN in life.<br />
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In the final part of the book, the author starting talking about raising kids, and although I don't have kids, I just spent the weekend with three of my seven nephews and nieces (yeah, another one is on the way!!!) and this portion of the book was of particular interest especially because I got to watch my nephew at his first track meet, and my other nephew study for the SATs and talk to my niece about her extreme interest in cooking. One of the ideas the author spoke about is the Hard Thing Rule, that she employs in her house. There are three rules, and I don't necessarily remember what they are verbatim but they basically were: 1) do something hard; 2) finish that hard thing; 3) no one else can choose your hard thing. She also went on to say that once her kids hit high school there was a fourth rule, the fourth rule is that you have to stick with that hard thing for two full years.<br />
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I heard this and instantly had my AHA! moment...<br />
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One of the things I know about myself is that I persevere when I like something, when it gets hard depending on what it is I stick my head in the sand or I charge on... Then add some external forces and if I find that it is so hard and I'm scared, it is immediately followed up with I can't. This was both an invigorating discovery, as well as a sobering discovery... Did this mean that I lack grit? Or does this mean that I have been out of practice and I need to reemploy some of that grit? I'm going to go with the latter, because it makes me feel better, and because I know there is something I can do about it.<br />
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So, yes I have been doing triathlons for years... yes I have been enjoying the experience... yes, I believe training, starting and finishing are all accomplishments... BUT, what if I said I wanted to improve next time around? What does improving mean? How does one measure that improvement? What external forces have to be explored to determine that improvement? These are all questions for exploration, but what I do know is that I can improve, and I'm going to spend two years doing just that. In 2018, I am going to do my third (maybe fourth, if I get antsy next year) half iron distance triathlon, and I'm going to do better...<br />
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The one thing the book didn't explore was the idea that 'I can't' can sometimes be real, and then what? I would love to sit down and talk with this psychologist, especially because she captured my attention once again when she talked about how our neurological receptors, or something like that, can always be enhanced, especially considering our bodies, even in adulthood, have the ability to continue to develop a myelin sheath... Um... I'm guessing MS has not been a factor in her research? It would be of interest to me to talk through how demyelination might impact her grit scale, but does it really matter? Perhaps it does.<br />
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Anyway, I walk away from this book with the desire, the desire to improve. And so I adopt the "Hard Thing Rule."<br />
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I plan to dedicate one post a month to where I am with my experience employing the hard thing rule... I hope you will enjoy!<br />
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12587125181578567948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540224850415525129.post-33371579837480990492016-08-28T19:43:00.001-04:002016-08-28T20:05:19.297-04:00Ridin for Myelin!!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In 27 days, we ride again!<br />
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Janell, Christina, Sue and I will be riding through Michigan in an effort to support Multiple Sclerosis research. Why do we ride? Here are some of the reasons I ride...<br />
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<li>I ride because... I can! Having multiple sclerosis is a journey that requires continuous adjustments. I acknowledge that every person, regardless of whether they have a chronic disease or not, has to make continuous adjustments in life, and those adjustments are hard. I can truly empathize with every person because my adjustments are often bring with them more laughter, more tears, more medicine, some depression, and even some regression. But like any steps backwards, there are more steps forward you can take...</li>
<li>I ride because... I know a lot of people with MS. Cousins, a neighbor, a friend from years ago, new friends, family friends, my siblings' friends. All of these people have struggles, but they also have amazing lives and a quality of life they wish to withhold long term. If I can raise money for research, for this purpose, I'm in!</li>
<li>I ride because... It gives me joy, most of the time. You may hear me say something different in the middle of a very long ride, but I can promise you the experiences and memories I create every time I just on my bike are ones that will be carried through my entire life.</li>
<li>I ride because... It keeps me healthy and mobile. As Newton's Law of Motion states, an object in motion tends to stay in motion. So, when you watch me stretch myself thin for the sake of exercise, it is with the intentions of keeping me in motion long term.</li>
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That is a very short list of why I ride. I have been reading my sister's posts about why they ride, and here are some of their words:</div>
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<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"> I'm riding with a team in September to raise awareness and money for MS research. But you may not know that Multiple Sclerosis is the most common neurological disease in young adults, and afflicts more than 350,000 people in the US - including close members of my family. </span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="line-height: 19.32px;">Curious about all the cycling posts? The mile markers, bike pics, random trail check-ins? It's all part of our family cause - MS (Multiple Sclerosis) research - and the long bike ride I'll be doing with my siblings and our team 'Ridin' for Myelin', in September.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="line-height: 19.32px;">I have a sibling, friends, and relatives who live with MS and would like to do my part to fund research for a cure.</span></span></span></li>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">I'm very lucky to have family and friends that will not only come out and spend a weekend with me, riding bikes through Michigan, but also willing to devote so much time to the training and energy it takes to prepare for such a ride. This weekend I saw that our team has logged over 300 miles in preparation for this ride... </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">As I have in the past, I want to pay tribute to my riding buddies. They include:</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"><b>Janell: </b>My big sister... She has been looking out for me fiercely since I was little... Always the life of the party, always willing to help. Consider donating to my big protector: <a href="http://main.nationalmssociety.org/site/TR/Bike/MIGBikeEvents?px=1605698&pg=personal&fr_id=27703" target="_blank">click here.</a> </span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5oFC9QtNTjeZpljNZyyDQs9z90bIfhSyjhfqmhjHkEyMsvGvuQ86wqtuMJ1iGrSMS2zcD6nlU4VxVtAumKiwUciocSCDzBLTijqMAc_zrTdXFE8aHgQD_cEK5-A3xGUJIjoYMQ3t5_UPQ/s1600/Janell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5oFC9QtNTjeZpljNZyyDQs9z90bIfhSyjhfqmhjHkEyMsvGvuQ86wqtuMJ1iGrSMS2zcD6nlU4VxVtAumKiwUciocSCDzBLTijqMAc_zrTdXFE8aHgQD_cEK5-A3xGUJIjoYMQ3t5_UPQ/s320/Janell.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b style="color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">Christina:</b><span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"> My big sister... She has always wanted me to be healthy and is always throwing her words of wisdom my way. A big sister that has braided my hair, made me go for bike rides, and has always watched out for my (and everyone's) health. I wouldn't be riding if it wasn't for her. Consider donating to my exercise jump starter: </span><a href="http://main.nationalmssociety.org/site/TR/Bike/MIGBikeEvents?px=13048030&pg=personal&fr_id=27703" style="font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;" target="_blank">click here.</a><span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 19.32px;">Sue: </span><span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">Well, this is the one who puts up with my antics, wakes up early on weekends to go for bike rides, and deals with my incessant need to talk. Always by my side, always willing to listen to my brain doctor for what he REALLY says, rather than what I like to hear. A true, best friend. Consider donating to my best pal: </span><a href="http://main.nationalmssociety.org/site/TR/Bike/MIGBikeEvents?px=12790187&pg=personal&fr_id=27703" style="font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;" target="_blank">click here. </a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghCrMJ7KNpkgmvYy8Y-Jr2mh5nAzY2i_VBzdjQirNlFbxwKFoLuinNX26QtMmtppdbzfNkzBKcuTON2iIloqKD1NZ2UPKyhqSTgSfowDcZE3J7MJT946NF9uO2AiPHiI49uKftacT7ehn_/s1600/sue+blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghCrMJ7KNpkgmvYy8Y-Jr2mh5nAzY2i_VBzdjQirNlFbxwKFoLuinNX26QtMmtppdbzfNkzBKcuTON2iIloqKD1NZ2UPKyhqSTgSfowDcZE3J7MJT946NF9uO2AiPHiI49uKftacT7ehn_/s320/sue+blog.jpg" width="180" /></a><span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"><b><br /></b></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"><b><br /></b></span></span><span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"><b style="line-height: 19.32px;">And Me... </b><span style="line-height: 19.32px;">Always being a little too goofy, making my friends exercise, and laughing at the jokes a bit too late. Consider donating:</span><a href="http://main.nationalmssociety.org/site/TR/Bike/MIGBikeEvents?px=12624377&pg=personal&fr_id=27703" style="line-height: 19.32px;" target="_blank"> click here. </a></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-D88ZWuFnc1-mbziaGVEbe2GlvQ5wsjCW2SGmJ218rkRhs13W9L0idUZx_vxspnd7kaRxC_NK94yoNCB9bqfONlGzCKiLaYueWW7wHNFBbBN_O9u7l41CYYyPZFjrmzxzm7X0NO9NAveE/s1600/Sarah+for+blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-D88ZWuFnc1-mbziaGVEbe2GlvQ5wsjCW2SGmJ218rkRhs13W9L0idUZx_vxspnd7kaRxC_NK94yoNCB9bqfONlGzCKiLaYueWW7wHNFBbBN_O9u7l41CYYyPZFjrmzxzm7X0NO9NAveE/s320/Sarah+for+blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"><b><br /></b></span></span><span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">There you have it folks, our small but mighty team... As we go out 'Ridin for Myelin'... Learn more about our supporters in a future post!</span></span></div>
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12587125181578567948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540224850415525129.post-50210538770850493512016-08-21T20:05:00.000-04:002016-08-21T20:05:03.596-04:00Everyone Has A Story<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I spent a couple of hours watching the Ironman 70.3 Ohio this afternoon and I found myself reflecting. So after a few months break from blogging I decided it was time to reflect through some writing...<br />
<br />
I spectated near the run out (where the triathletes transition from cycling to running) for about a half an hour, and cheered on the runners as they embarked on their half marathon journey. I then went and sat in the stadium at Ohio Wesleyan University watching people cross the finish line of their 70.3 mile journey and suddenly noticed my face was wet. Why the wet cheeks? Well, of course because I was crying. I was crying because I understood the satisfaction, the pain, the elation of those people who were crossing the finish line of their race. I also found myself tearful because I knew every person who crossed that finish line had a story, a story worth telling, a story worth hearing...<br />
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While thinking about people's stories, it made me think about my story, and how there are so many things that make me who I am, and define my quality of life... And it is frightening when some, or all of those things are off balance. Why was I thinking about the lack of balance? Well because I finished a half ironman about 2 1/2 months ago, and just one week ago I decided it would be in my best interest to change my Olympic distance triathlon coming up in September, to an aquabike because I have accepted that running this summer was tainted by the extreme heat and humidity. To me, that is lack of balance. I think it is fair to say that my athleticism/health are a big part of my life story, at this juncture.<br />
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The other things that help me feel settled in life include the job I love, comfort at home, and my family/friends. If one or all of those things are off balance, the ideal situation would be that the other things come in and compensates. Perhaps you recall blog posts where I talk about each party in a relationship is only responsible for 100% of their 50%, but those percentages may need to fluctuate from time to time? Similarly, I feel that the four most important things that make me, me, are like quadrants that all need to be in balance. And that is a big part of my story because there are always external forces that can come in and upset the balance, for instance, the heat... makes running sometimes prohibitive. Other things that upsets the balance? A lot of travel, family emergencies, head aches, lack of energy, storms, money (or lack there of), drop foot, disagreements, inability to focus, etc.<br />
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Everyone in this life has points in time where everything feels off balance, and that is when this good ole extrovert thrives on sharing. Sharing the stories, the frustration, the pain, the experiences... The sharing is not to diminish anyone else's STORY, but hopefully a reminder that an ear is there if every you want to share your story. It also isn't meant to diminish anyone else's EXPERIENCE, or make it seem as though your own personal story is more important, but rather to learn about how other people have coped with their struggles.<br />
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With that being said, take a moment, listen to someone else's story, or share your own... After all, everyone has a story...</div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12587125181578567948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540224850415525129.post-36534311731599044522016-06-12T21:49:00.000-04:002016-06-12T21:50:25.279-04:00Half Ironman Take 2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The finish line, with my stalkers (you can see my finish line chair to the back right)</td></tr>
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As I crossed the finish line of my SECOND Half Ironman, I had no idea how to feel. It wasn't until the following day that I recognized my true feelings.<br />
<br />
But let's rewind several months. About 9 months ago I was contacted and asked if I would be interested in doing another half ironman to celebrate a 40th birthday. I am rarely one to turn down a request for challenging my endurance and so I jumped on the opportunity. I registered impulsively and then felt like I was punched in the gut. How the heck was I going to prepare for such a significant race, especially considering I was going to be travelling for several weeks in the beginning of the year. I then reviewed the training schedule and learned that all was good in the world because the training wouldn't officially start until after my trip.<br />
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Training swiftly began in January, a couple of days after I returned from India and I dove in as best I could. The training was challenging in the middle of winter, but I stuck to it until one day I fell in the middle of a business meeting. What was simply a trip, fall and sore knee at first, was really a strained knee that couldn't be run on for three weeks. Set back number one recorded.<br />
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I continued swimming and cycling on a stationary bike at the gym, but could not squeak a run out of these legs for the life of me.<br />
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After three weeks of struggling with training, I was finally able to run again, but had to start from scratch. This stressed me out to the core because I just lost several weeks of running. Regardless, I brushed myself off and marched on.<br />
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My training was going fairly well when I suddenly became sick. I had a sinus infection that I insisted needed antibiotics, but the doctor insisted I needed rest. and so I rested, for a week and never got better. I followed up at the end of the week and was finally given antibiotics, and began to feel better. Another week of training lost... Set back number two recorded.<br />
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I once again brushed myself off and picked up where I left off, which equated to four weeks behind in running, a couple weeks behind in swimming, and about three weeks behind in cycling. I simply was not going to give up!!!<br />
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In the midst of all of these random setbacks, I also had some weird symptoms that could only be explained by the dreaded words Multiple Sclerosis, by my doctor. What could I do for these symptoms? Well, you guessed it NOTHING. But I chose to trudge onward, and opt for some physical therapy that I though might help with my walking struggles, and amazingly it did! While all of this was going on, I was training in silence, because I could not figure out if this race was going to be attainable. In fact, I was so silent in my training, several people expressed their concern for my readiness, at which point I assured them I was training. This is when I started talking about my training as to squelch people's concerns and then something happened, training started to feel easy, so easy that as my running miles built up, I finished each run with confidence, I was killing my swims and even started to ride outside, which was a blessing as 45 miles on a stationary bike was a different kind of misery that no individual should ever have to experience. My champions were likely still skeptical, but they chose to show support rather than cynicism because they were hearing of my successes!<br />
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All of a sudden the race was two weeks away and I couldn't have felt better about the race. Everything was looking up and I knew I was going to smash my goals. My last weekend of big training I went out for my long run, smashed the 11 mile run and was literally on cloud 9. The next day, I was so excited for my success that I hit the bike trail with an exuberance that was mirrored in effort. I was clipping along and about 10 miles into my 55 mile bike ride, when I took note of my speed 19 mph. Clipping at 19 miles an hour was likely not going to be sustained but something to strive for for at least the first 25 miles or so...<br />
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And then it happened, my back wheel slipped on a wood bridge and I found myself sprawled across the trail, wind knocked out of me, water bottles rolling in different directions, my bike 10 feet from me and a runner standing over me asking if I was alright. I thought I was, once I caught my breath. I put myself back together, cried for a few minutes, sent a couple of texts and decided that I would just slow down for the remaining 45 miles. I officially only made it three more miles after the fall, and found myself sitting on a car stop in a park parking lot, crying, while waiting for my friend to pick me up. I was sore, but certainly didn't think I had a concussion or anything else seriously wrong with me. I simply thought I had a bruised ego and I could put myself together to try again the next day...<br />
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Well, I was wrong, the next day I could barely roll myself out of bed and was at the doctors office learning of concussion signs and being probed and prodded to ensure none of my ribs were not broken. Because of the symptoms I was told to refrain from exercise until my concussion signs were gone for 24 hours, and until I could breath normally while exerting myself. Here I was two weeks before the race, and once again sidelined. Setback number three.<br />
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At this point I had a lot of concerned champions questioning my motivation, and for good reason. Why the heck would anyone want to keep pushing their body to the limit? Well, I really didn't believe I was, and I still stand by that. I felt that it had nothing to do with pushing my body to the limit, but instead me giving my body the opportunity to perform, and that it did.<br />
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After a few days of laying around, I found myself out running again, and it was a bit of a struggle. My chest was sore but I could breath. I then went for a bike ride and splashed around in the pool, but my nerves were off the hook. One more week until the race, and half of my taper time included significant couch riding.<br />
<br />
So, fast forward a week and I found myself toeing the line of what was to be my second half ironman. I was freaked out to say the least, but found peace in a calm lake. It wasn't my fastest swim ever, and I'm certain I could have outperformed this swim if only I had taken more responsibility for my swim training and exposed myself to open water swimming this season, but I didn't. Regardless, I was proud of my swim, and was even more excited when my friend Sue emerged from the sidelines to support me as I tripped my way into transition.<br />
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Typically, I am a good 'transitioner' however, I really took my time and dilly dallied so as to feel stable when going out for my bike ride. After what was a lifetime, I hopped on my bike and began going up a never ending hill that I literally didn't find relief from for 56 miles. Obviously, any rational individual will tell you that you can't go up hill for 56 miles, but this was one heck of a bike course that was relentless. The hills kept pounding me one after the other, after the other.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Sun Greeting me. </td></tr>
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Because the bike course was a loop, I was blessed to see two of my closest friends along the way. Sue and Chris managed to find their way to the end of the loop, and as I approached the top of one of the longest hills, they were standing there shining the 'sun' down on me and showering me with love and cheers. Something that would keep me going as I took on the loops.<br />
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<br />
After my final loop, I found myself climbing another impossible hill that would take me to the final downhill of the bike course. As I rode up this hill, the realization hit me that I was also going to have to run this hill not once but TWICE!!! I would have felt deflated if it wasn't for the runners cheering me on to get to the top of the hill!<br />
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Once done with the bike ride, Chris and Sue did NOT miss a beat and were there for me. They were shoving subway sandwiches into their mouths and drinking coke, and I chastised them for eating in front of me, but then I spotted a cookie, and I made them relinquish their cookie to this struggling athlete... All the while, Sue stabilized me as I headed into transition and Chris asked me what she could do for me. Careful what you ask for, right? Without missing a beat I said, you have your running shoes, right? She did... I said, put them on and run the first loop with me. Without putting much thought in it, and after my trip to the bathroom, Chris was by my side, while Sue was screaming my name as I headed out for my half marathon.<br />
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The run was equally relentless as the bike. There was not just one hard hill, but around every corner was a hill, that I knew I could conquer with my walking capabilities, afterall this run mirrored more of a WALK run than a run... But so I went with Chris by my side telling me stories of her kiddos and continued support. After one loop, screams from Sue, my other friend Chris joined me for the second loop. She supported me, walked with me, jogged with me (when I could muster a jog), and we talked about life and love, my random crushed and friendship. Reflecting back on that I would say that the friendship she offered, along with Chris E. and Sue was friendship that many people yearn for but never realize in a lifetime, and here I had three of them there for the ride!!!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the top of some hill 5 miles into the run. </td></tr>
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Anyway, after a few tears, a stop at an outhouse, the sweep vehicle stalking me (by the way, they were the best, most desired stalkers one could dream up), and one more GD uphill, I was finally close to the finish line, and across I went. I had the best cheering section of the race director, some EMTs, my stalkers, and other staff cheering for me... And then I collapsed into a chair!!!!!!!!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The welcome to the finish line</td></tr>
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And that is it folks, another half ironman under my belt. But the story doesn't end there. The finish was climactic, and I'm thankful for every moment I was able to keep my body moving, but it wasn't until the next day that I realized what this race really meant to me...<br />
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The day after the race, as I was trying to shovel in four huge blueberry pancakes with strawberries and whip cream on top, Sue asked me a question, and I have no idea what that question was, but this was my response:<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>This race was different than the first half ironman. I remember when I did the first half ironman, I had just learned (three days before) that I had MS. I recall turning the corner to the final downhill of that race and I burst into tears. When I reflect back on those tears I remember that they weren't because I was about to cross the finish line of the biggest achievement of my life, but rather tears because I was about to cross the finish line of what was likely going to be the <b><u>FINAL </u></b>big physical achievement of my life. I remember thinking that this was going to be the last time I would be able to do a race like that because certainly my body was certainly going to give way to broken down myelin sheaths, and damaged nerves.</i><br />
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<i></i>I continued by saying something along the lines of the following:<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>But this race was important, special and necessary because it was proof that I was wrong, and that I could still do anything I put my mind to. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I don't recall if I said this while trying to eat copious amounts of pancakes, but I know that I stand by this today, even though this half ironman took me 15 minutes longer, it was certainly a much bigger, more satisfying accomplishment because I got to prove myself wrong... AND had three very special people there choosing to take the ride with me.</div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12587125181578567948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540224850415525129.post-24840668070805488952016-04-22T21:29:00.000-04:002016-04-22T21:29:03.045-04:00The Story<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have been very sporadic about posting this year. I'm trying to get back to my normal weekly posts, so I'll shoot for every other week for awhile, working my way back up to weekly.<br />
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What drew me to the blog tonight? Well, a story of course.<br />
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Let me start by sharing a story about my sister-in-law. Two years ago, a huge crowd of 'my people' came to Ohio to do an MS ride. One of the cool things about this ride is that they give all of the people who have MS a free bike jersey. Because of the expense of bike jerseys, I jump on the FREE in this instance. So, there were a lot of people riding with their I Ride with MS jersey during this ride, including myself. Quite honestly, I love the jersey not only because it is free, but also because of what it stands for. During the ride, it reminds riders why they are riding. It reminds riders that people who have MS want to continue to have the ability to ride long into the future. It also makes me proud to be able to say that I can still keep up with everyone else!!!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Jersey</td></tr>
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The thing I dislike about the jersey is the special treatment people get just because they are wearing the jersey. I'm not talking about the 'employee of the month' type special treatment, but instead the 'oh that is sad, he/she has MS' treatment. Sure, I will always take my VIP parking spot, but typically my VIP parking spot is necessity, and I'm guessing most people with MS would agree that when they finish exercising they are done for awhile and the long walk across the parking lot is daunting. I also appreciate the thumbs up, and the nice comments from people about why they ride, that is cool!!! But just because I wear the jersey doesn't give me permission to not be kind to people, or to have people hold back when I do something wrong.<br />
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So back to the ride a couple of years ago, my sister-in-law was riding up a challenging hill for Ohio standards (did I mention she is a Mountain rider, so this is baby stuff to her?), and her chain fell off her bike while shifting gears. This was nothing she had control over, at all. It could happen to anyone, however someone shouted at her to tell her she should not be riding on the left if she was slower than other folks. I am guessing my sister-in-law could have blown this person out of the water, riding up that hill, but instead she was stopped by a mechanical problem. This person was quite rude to my sister-in-law, so much so she wanted to tell the girl to chill out, BUT, when my sister-in-law looked over her shoulder, the girl was riding with an 'I Ride with MS' jersey and decided not to say anything as a result.<br />
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When she told me and my sister this story, we both agreed that she should have said something. Just because she was wearing the jersey didn't grant her permission to be rude.<br />
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I thought of this story today because while I was riding on the local trail today, I was stopped at a road crossing, and a guy came up behind me on his bicycle. This light is notoriously long so we settled in, got ourselves a drink and started chatting (yes, I will talk to random people while I'm in public). During this conversation this guy gave me a kudos for riding even though I have MS, at which point I realized I was wearing my jersey. I told him that I would likely never stop riding. When the light changed, we said a quick goodbye, and clicked in. He 'took off' while I tried straightening my foot to get it into the clip, all the while knowing for certain that I would catch up with him, and probably blow by him. My tried and true riding buddy is often baffled by my need to showboat in these circumstances, but because she wasn't there to restrain me today, I capitalized on the opportunity.<br />
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Sure enough, I was quickly riding past him, shouting 'on your left', when he said, 'Oh, it's you again.' Then he sped up to keep up for a few minutes, he told me he was impressed with my speed especially because I have MS. At this point I had a choice to either be a jerk, or respond with grace. I chose grace... I just said, thank you, explained that I've been riding awhile, and plan to do a two day 200 mile ride in September.<br />
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I tell you this story because it is important to understand that two letters do not tell a person's entire story, do not define a person. That girl should not have been nasty to my sister-in-law regardless of what jersey she was wearing, and they guy on the trail should not have made assumptions about my riding ability simply because I was wearing my MS jersey. I myself make immediate judgement based on what I see, I am human after all, but these two experiences are reminders that I need all of the information before I react.</div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12587125181578567948noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540224850415525129.post-55047979944223966832016-04-09T19:12:00.000-04:002016-04-09T19:13:23.340-04:00The Invite<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAoK2hNfsOkyBb_yI78TJlcUUwYXOYalWclqgKBN2bepXaJqKvekS504jQ_eVTZ-Z10cbr0ZND5uaIbV38Ou7j5NKPcWyKR-Gm0seWDg9QwIyHmPluYpGhHk5RdbiFOT8u9V74ede9VEVR/s1600/10472734_10152581268564494_1132104522079524451_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAoK2hNfsOkyBb_yI78TJlcUUwYXOYalWclqgKBN2bepXaJqKvekS504jQ_eVTZ-Z10cbr0ZND5uaIbV38Ou7j5NKPcWyKR-Gm0seWDg9QwIyHmPluYpGhHk5RdbiFOT8u9V74ede9VEVR/s320/10472734_10152581268564494_1132104522079524451_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Having a relationship with exercise is like having a relationship with an introvert; you should never expect them to invite you to the party...<br />
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I liken this statement to something a wise woman told me recently; we teach people how to treat us.<br />
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You know what sucks? When you really just want to be invited every once in awhile... I guess I haven't taught exercise how to treat/invite me?<br />
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Anyway, I am a true extrovert, and so I'm going to always invite people to the party. The thing is, I don't want to over-invite, which is probably why I am selective about who I invite. I also don't want to have to beg people, or hear no all of the time.<br />
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My family, one of my sister's in particular, has a reputation of being successful recruiters for athletic pursuits. There is a reason I like to exercise these days, and I can tell you it didn't begin by sheer personal will... but rather by being dragged kicking and screaming! Boy am I glad I crossed that first starting line, because it led me to my first finish line! And here I am today, a recruiter.<br />
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You are cordially invited to join the 'Ridin for Myelin' team... Consider this your invite! I will not ask again, because I know if you want to join in the fun you will! I can guarantee a few things if you RSVP yes:<br />
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1) Dinner reservations the night before;<br />
2) Fun on the course with all the people riding for MS;<br />
3) Lunch reservations after the ride.<br />
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My sister and I are registered, and hope you do too...<br />
<a href="http://main.nationalmssociety.org/site/TR?team_id=482511&fr_id=27703&pg=team" target="_blank"><br /></a>
<a href="http://main.nationalmssociety.org/site/TR?team_id=482511&fr_id=27703&pg=team" target="_blank">Ridin for Myelin</a></div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12587125181578567948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540224850415525129.post-687773712574555812016-03-14T19:26:00.002-04:002016-03-14T19:26:47.803-04:00The Great India Adventure: The Rubber Tree<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Rubber Tree Forest </td></tr>
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I can't tell you how many people have said to me, since I've been back from India, you mean rubber comes from a tree? Um, yeah...<br />
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<i>And then I get follow up questions:</i><br />
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<i>What do you mean rubber comes from trees? I mean, a rubber band is made from... uh, rubber?</i><br />
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<i>How do you get rubber out of a tree?</i><br />
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<i>I thought rubber was made from plastic, but you are telling me it is a plant?</i><br />
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So, one of the many ways farmers make a living in India is by farming rubber. We were lucky enough to see the rubber making process from start to finish. I have posted pictures and the steps (that I remember) below!<br />
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Step 1: Tap the tree. Unfortunately I did not get any pictures of our host's family tapping the trees. I think I was too busy trying not to fall over from the heat. Basically, in this step, they carve out a spiral wedge in the tree and place a metal slide from the cut tree, which pours the sap into a metal bowl, that resembles cast iron.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgToYgSp3bwzeAGLWmKhyphenhyphenRMCYgoS9Z6qrMi6YFmRohgXL2VI7m16hsvmxI1wsATX4P2m5L9b4zi8t46CMIWdJzd_5ug6arTd7iZlcBG97BIsyXkAuw-rBPdHTxS_AxHXxzca6SqG-d0ZNAL/s1600/rubber-tapping.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgToYgSp3bwzeAGLWmKhyphenhyphenRMCYgoS9Z6qrMi6YFmRohgXL2VI7m16hsvmxI1wsATX4P2m5L9b4zi8t46CMIWdJzd_5ug6arTd7iZlcBG97BIsyXkAuw-rBPdHTxS_AxHXxzca6SqG-d0ZNAL/s320/rubber-tapping.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picture of a tapped tree. </td></tr>
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Step 2: After letting the tree bleed for several hours, one of the farmers walks from tree to tree collecting the sap from the bowls. Once they have all the sap collected, they place the sap in a pan. The pan looks very similar to a paint pan. In the pan, the farmer mixes the sap with an agent that solidifies the sap.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiivW7nyJpeNvQFkgkuME6WEEJZDTub5eW4Trp6NCkPK9oWlpyTUGnO12hoad13IIqOsTuqm6dtzx3PjuLm3LRKS8FXSZ3I-TZKUoYvx0rQ_IdjvsgTw-8okaoxqR9OPVHrY-fxC4g2f7k2/s1600/SAM_0238.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiivW7nyJpeNvQFkgkuME6WEEJZDTub5eW4Trp6NCkPK9oWlpyTUGnO12hoad13IIqOsTuqm6dtzx3PjuLm3LRKS8FXSZ3I-TZKUoYvx0rQ_IdjvsgTw-8okaoxqR9OPVHrY-fxC4g2f7k2/s320/SAM_0238.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rubber Sap mixed with some solution to solidify the sap.</td></tr>
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Step 3: At this point, the solidified rubber is taken to a contraption that looks like a super sized pasta machine, and is rolled through the machine to expand the rubber before they begin drying the rubber.<br />
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<br />Step 4: Once the rubber is rolled out, it is hung on lines that look like laundry, to dry.<br /><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picture of the patting out the rubber before the rolling process begins.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI7eiTeQBconlRhRUGoRGQem-QEB_a-4RWIj35erYlXVrCb2mU0a2kP9r78EJMovPgAJO5EmmZ7gzfvX6DVAnnRyRLof8J8XEPEc_LtJWZYxOZ2NyrnzEGf_coMDAaEFOzt9KIwW9M332W/s1600/SAM_0247.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI7eiTeQBconlRhRUGoRGQem-QEB_a-4RWIj35erYlXVrCb2mU0a2kP9r78EJMovPgAJO5EmmZ7gzfvX6DVAnnRyRLof8J8XEPEc_LtJWZYxOZ2NyrnzEGf_coMDAaEFOzt9KIwW9M332W/s320/SAM_0247.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi_qQhQkzBTDXwoAdVdj8nTV4VR3kLDoSNIZ9UzlSd1iLtEN1dNlOPo1l-OZ0l5DvlCkiKSR1si-tAGRAPOxa8rGLYhFNbMWZ67YRBH3hZ21lqdlvaVY907G8CvudWMrnb_gYTSeKdBYDQ/s1600/SAM_0326.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi_qQhQkzBTDXwoAdVdj8nTV4VR3kLDoSNIZ9UzlSd1iLtEN1dNlOPo1l-OZ0l5DvlCkiKSR1si-tAGRAPOxa8rGLYhFNbMWZ67YRBH3hZ21lqdlvaVY907G8CvudWMrnb_gYTSeKdBYDQ/s320/SAM_0326.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Step 5: Once the rubber is done drying, it looks like this. It is then sold to the rubber factory to make our everyday luxuries such as rubber bands, and such. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxzjHKiDpfA7FO5h1XpYZhPX6skGTKwGTHYObx_Uw8WL49O7NLfLVKL0gdBn-_ka4nMXdXZLCbX70M2w1im8KTsniMgv5UnHWTgtu1XCP3kiLnFXXmS7kvQNNaKMrIXEOlO85yItgUQJON/s1600/SAM_0237.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxzjHKiDpfA7FO5h1XpYZhPX6skGTKwGTHYObx_Uw8WL49O7NLfLVKL0gdBn-_ka4nMXdXZLCbX70M2w1im8KTsniMgv5UnHWTgtu1XCP3kiLnFXXmS7kvQNNaKMrIXEOlO85yItgUQJON/s320/SAM_0237.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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Step 6: The trees are then covered with plastic band aids to try and heal the tree for the next tapping. You can get about 25 years production out of a rubber tree.<br />
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12587125181578567948noreply@blogger.com0