As many of you know, it's been a rough month in the Strand house. Sickness struck many of us, putting Erik in the hospital, and taking Jayson out of school for an entire week. Then I went away to a long skating competition and came back sick myself. To say our normal routines are out of whack would be putting it mildly. For some families, a change in routine is really no big deal. For the Strands, a change in routine is devastating to our son - and we have seen the unfortunate effects in the past week or so. Jayson has had a hard time readjusting to going back to school after being off for Christmas break and then another week for illness. He has been even more unfocused than usual, has shown rare misbehavior, and has not been able to keep up in math, his best subject. On more than one occasion he has uttered "I hate school and I hate learning new things". At home he is emotional and angers more quickly than usual.
I tend to panic when Jayson gets into these moods, even though I've seen them before and they are usually short lived. These periods are often a kick in the gut to me because it greatly magnifies all of his issues related to his autism - usually just when I'm letting some hope and optimism creep into my life about his future. You see, Jayson was having a VERY successful school year up until about 2 weeks ago. My rational mind knows he's just reacting to all the changes that have happened here at home this month, but my heart breaks to see all his struggles magnified during this time. And because I tend to be a worrier, I start to panic about his future and his ability to make it in the world at large.
And then, lo and behold, I see post on a friend's facebook page yesterday. Her friend wrote an article for an Autism website called Natural Learning Concepts (http://www.nlconcepts.com/) called "Top Ten Reason Why People With Autism Rock". As I read the article I realized not only was Jayson going to be okay, he was going to be more than okay. You see, the article showed me that instead of worrying about Jayson, perhaps I should worry a little more about myself. Almost all the positive qualities that the author lists in the article are qualities that I really need to work on in my own life. Sometimes I need that reminder that autism is not always such a bad thing. The rest of us can learn ALOT from people on the spectrum.
So I've copied the article and web address below. Please take the time to read it. Hopefully it will make you appreciate people on the spectrum more, and make you think about yourself. It did for me. It also helped me to take a deep breath about all his current behaviors. This will pass. It always does. Our routines are slowly getting back to normal and so will Jayson. And, as the article below shows, Jayson's "normal" is a actually a wonderful thing. Enjoy...
http://www.nlconcepts.com/article-10-reasons-why-people-with-autism-rock.html
Ten Reasons Why People with Autism Rock
1. People on the autism spectrum don't play mind games
Sarah: “I'm going to have a cozy day at home honey, but whatever you decide to do is fine.”
Mike: “Great. I think I'll head on over to Greg's house to watch the game and have a few beers.”
Sarah: “Fine! You might as well sleep over there too since the locks
will be changed by the time you get home.” (Exits room and slams door)
Mike: (Frowning, confused and totally nonplussed) “What the..?”
Typical people are often masterful at saying one thing, while meaning
the opposite. It's a game that most of us hate but we play it anyway.
Consistently needing to read between the lines can be emotionally
exhausting. Why is it so difficult for most of us to simply say it
straight? People on the autism spectrum don't play these mind games.
They tell it like it is and it's remarkably refreshing to be in their
company. They don't expect you to play these games either. They mean
what they say, and expect you do too. That's right! They'll take what
you say at face value, without secretly doubting or disbelieving your
word. What a great characteristic!
2. People on the autism spectrum are not interested in “looking good”
Many of us have an unconscious need to impress others. The clothes we
wear, the topics we talk about, and even the careers we pick are often
influenced by what others might think of us. People on the autism
spectrum tend to do what makes them happy. If those ugly red shoes
provide great comfort, then so be it. If reading children's comics make
them laugh like a little kid, that's what they'll do. They're not about
to feign interest in some philosophical argument just because it might
make them look good. They're not interested in keeping up with the
neighbors or buying the new “in thing” because that's what everyone is
doing. They are who they are and that is that! This makes them genuine,
sincere people who are unique and fascinating to be around.
3. People on the autism spectrum maintain an innocence about them
Many people on the autism spectrum have an uncanny ability to maintain
the innocence of a little kid. They are captivated by the small things
in life and are likely to be far more impressed by a leaf blowing
haphazardly in the wind, than by the worldly possessions someone is
flaunting in front of them. Foreigners to deception, they believe every
word you say and this characteristic leaves them as gullible and naïve
as a child. They don't look for hidden meanings and even if they did,
they are unlikely to find them. They accept the world at face value,
often delighting in the beauty around them.
4. People on the autism spectrum are honest
Since deception is not part of their makeup, people on the autism
spectrum hardly ever tell a lie. One might even say they are honest to a
fault. People on the autism spectrum will call it as they see it. If
you want the truth, you know who to go to but be prepared for a brutally
honest answer. Most of this population has never perfected the art of a
white lie. They typically do not cheat or steal and remain remarkably
in integrity. Most often people on the autism spectrum are valued
friends who are honest, forthright and one hundred percent loyal.
5. People on the autism spectrum delight in the moment
For many of us, the book we found fascinating in college wore off
pretty fast. The jingle that first made us laugh drove us crazy 20
minutes later. The first sunset we witnessed captivated our heart but
years later we put on sunglasses and barely notice it. Sadly, it doesn't
take much for us to become blasé about the world around us. Most people
on the autism spectrum are just the opposite! The joke that had them in
stitches a month ago has the same effect on them today. The light
reflecting off the glass window has them just as mesmerized as they
first time they saw it. The color of the sky after a summer storm fills
them with wonder each and every time. Perhaps because they are so
sensory aware, they possess the talent of delighting in the small
moments of life. One thing is for sure, their enthusiasm for life is
contagious and it's great to be in their presence.
6. People on the autism spectrum have an intense ability to focus
While the rest of the world is socializing, many people on the autism
spectrum are pursuing their interest with frenzy. There are no limits to
the amount of time and effort they will dedicate to their passion, and
they possess a unique ability to filter out the rest of the world while
doing so. This intense focus and attention to detail enables them to
master a subject or skill, which is often a great asset to the
workforce. Temple Grandin says that if we eradicate autism from the
world, we'll also be depriving ourselves of all the great gadgets and
technology we enjoy, such as software programs, computer chips, video
technology and the likes. While many of these inventors and pioneers
might not be diagnosed with autism, many of them certainly possess
autistic traits and the ability to focus intensely on their subject of
interest.
7. People on the autism spectrum don't gossip
You know
those people who are always talking behind your back? You can be sure
they are not on the autism spectrum. People on the spectrum do not
indulge in gossip. In fact the whole thing goes right over the top of
their head. And as for all those private smirks and eye contact people
surreptitiously engage in during a public exchange, you can bet your
spectrum friend will never do that to you. If your spectrum friend has
something to say, he'll either say it directly or keep it to himself.
Blabbing about it to other people is completely foreign to his nature.
8. People with autism are not judgmental
Wouldn't it be great if people could just accept you as you are? The
answer is to befriend someone on the autism spectrum. People with autism
concentrate on the matter at hand. When they're listening to you speak,
this is where they maintain their focus. They won't be furtively
judging you on your clothes, your level of success, the color of your
skin or how well you play baseball. If Jim tells his autism spectrum
friend that he likes eating burgers from McDonalds, his friend thinks
“Jim likes eating burgers from McDonalds.” He doesn't judge Jim based on
his eating preferences or secretly concludes that Jim has poor eating
habits, and is in need of an education on the food pyramid. The same
holds true when a person on the spectrum encounters someone, who, let’s
say for example has pink hair. There is no judgment about what type of
personality this person must have or the background they must have come
from. They simply acknowledge the presence of pink hair and move on. The
ability to abstain from jumping to conclusions about people based on
their appearance, career or some other aspect is admirable, and we have
much to learn from our friends with autism in this department.
9. People on the autism spectrum make great employees
Many people on the autism spectrum make great employees with admirable
work ethics. They are typically creatures of habit. They arrive at
exactly the same time every day and never leave early. They wouldn't
dream of taking extended lunch breaks and you won't find them
socializing at the coffee machine. They're more likely to be working
studiously at their desk. Many of us balk at the routine aspects of our
job and overlook the small details we should pay attention to. But this
is often an area of strength for those on the spectrum, who are
masterful at paying attention to detail. They are honest and loyal
workers, who certainly don't enjoy job hopping and are typically
committed and dedicated to their place of employment.
10. People with autism have a unique perspective
People with autism have a unique way of communicating and a fascinating
perspective. Many are capable of such a diverse range of exceptional
abilities. If you take the time to look, you'll find that the amount we
can learn from them is quite staggering. Because people with autism have
such a different way of thinking and being, they can contribute greatly
to us, the workforce and to how we view life. If you are lucky enough
to be close to someone on the autism spectrum, you will know firsthand
that not only do they see the world from a different angle, but they
have changed your perspective too and instilled in you a sense of
compassion you never knew you were capable of feeling.
To all of you out there who are on the autism spectrum...You Rock!
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Friday, January 18, 2013
Things I Have Learned in the last 36 Hours
It has been a hellacious week at my house. Both Erik and Jayson became sick last Saturday night and suffered from some kind of virus for the next 5 days. Jayson missed a week of school and Erik missed a week of work. I thought things couldn't get any worse. They did. But they also didn't. Here is what I have learned - hope some of it sticks with you in case you (God Forbid) ever need it:
1. Viruses can turn. It doesn't matter if you are young, strong, and healthy. Erik is one of the strongest men I know. He doesn't smoke, he eats well, he exercises, and generally takes care of himself. Right now he is sitting in the hospital with acute pneumonia. 24 hours after being admitted we are just now getting a clearer picture of how sick he was, and how very close he was to having his story turn out a VERY different way. I thought I was shaken up yesterday on the ambulance ride to the hospital - I'm more shaken up now knowing how close I came to losing him. Don't mess around with possible pneumonia. Please.
2. Be forever thankful for your friends and family. I don't know what I would do without them. 2 of my friends had my back in about 10 minutes from when I made that first phone call from the ER, and soon many others joined in. My kids were taken care of, I was being prayed for hard, wonderful doctors were suggested, plans were rearranged to help get my daughter through a skating competition, and a wonderful meal appeared on my doorstep to get us through the weekend. God Bless all of you - truly. I'm so close to falling apart and I'm convinced it's everyone's support that's keeping it at bay.
3. Don't be complacent. 16 years ago Erik had cancer and beat it - beat it soundly. We haven't thought about it in a LONG time. Yesterday a radiologist in the ER, being overly cautious about what he was seeing on the chest x ray, made some comments about a possible return of the cancer, throwing us into an absolutely terrifying tailspin. In all honesty, the last time I remember having that instant "I'm going to throw up" feeling was when I was told my son had autism. I hate that feeling. I don't ever want that feeling ever again. Many doctors have consulted with us in the last 24 hours. Tests have been run. It is much more likely the spots on the X ray were due to the pneumonia. There is really no indication of the cancer's return upon further study. We aren't nearly as scared about that as we were yesterday. Now we are freaked out about the severity of the pneumonia. Don't become complacent. Things can turn on a dime. I've heard more stories in the last 24 hours of how things could go wrong.
4. Priorities. In one swift instant nothing else mattered. Nothing. I hate that it takes something like this to clear all the bullsh** from my brain. Erik too. We both had a long talk today about what needs to take precedence in our minds and bodies. Color us both sufficiently scared into change.
5. My husband is the center of my universe. Without him I am lost. Thank you, God, for letting him remain with me. I cherish every single second.
1. Viruses can turn. It doesn't matter if you are young, strong, and healthy. Erik is one of the strongest men I know. He doesn't smoke, he eats well, he exercises, and generally takes care of himself. Right now he is sitting in the hospital with acute pneumonia. 24 hours after being admitted we are just now getting a clearer picture of how sick he was, and how very close he was to having his story turn out a VERY different way. I thought I was shaken up yesterday on the ambulance ride to the hospital - I'm more shaken up now knowing how close I came to losing him. Don't mess around with possible pneumonia. Please.
2. Be forever thankful for your friends and family. I don't know what I would do without them. 2 of my friends had my back in about 10 minutes from when I made that first phone call from the ER, and soon many others joined in. My kids were taken care of, I was being prayed for hard, wonderful doctors were suggested, plans were rearranged to help get my daughter through a skating competition, and a wonderful meal appeared on my doorstep to get us through the weekend. God Bless all of you - truly. I'm so close to falling apart and I'm convinced it's everyone's support that's keeping it at bay.
3. Don't be complacent. 16 years ago Erik had cancer and beat it - beat it soundly. We haven't thought about it in a LONG time. Yesterday a radiologist in the ER, being overly cautious about what he was seeing on the chest x ray, made some comments about a possible return of the cancer, throwing us into an absolutely terrifying tailspin. In all honesty, the last time I remember having that instant "I'm going to throw up" feeling was when I was told my son had autism. I hate that feeling. I don't ever want that feeling ever again. Many doctors have consulted with us in the last 24 hours. Tests have been run. It is much more likely the spots on the X ray were due to the pneumonia. There is really no indication of the cancer's return upon further study. We aren't nearly as scared about that as we were yesterday. Now we are freaked out about the severity of the pneumonia. Don't become complacent. Things can turn on a dime. I've heard more stories in the last 24 hours of how things could go wrong.
4. Priorities. In one swift instant nothing else mattered. Nothing. I hate that it takes something like this to clear all the bullsh** from my brain. Erik too. We both had a long talk today about what needs to take precedence in our minds and bodies. Color us both sufficiently scared into change.
5. My husband is the center of my universe. Without him I am lost. Thank you, God, for letting him remain with me. I cherish every single second.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Failure - It's A Good Thing...
Why are we parents so afraid to let our kids fail? Why do we fear mediocrity? Why do we often have this compulsive need to always give our kids a leg up? I've been wrestling with this question on many different levels lately with regards to both of my children, but this past weekend provided a wonderful example of why it's more than OK to let our children experience (gasp) not being the best at everything they do.
As many of you know, Katy is a figure skater. She's not a great one, but she's also not a terrible one. Figure skating is full of drama - most of which, sadly, is provided by the parents. I find this to be true in any sport, really. For whatever reason, my generation tends to have this obsessive need to make sure our kids are "always on the best team". We start them in a sport earlier and earlier (soon there will be fetus leagues), and as soon possible some of us rush to put them on the coveted TRAVEL TEAM. God forbid we let them waste away on the lowly park district recreational team. And if our kids aren't chosen for those teams, or we think our kids are just so darn fantastic that they shouldn't be on the travel team, we simply quit that particular organization and form a new one. And sports never end - there is winter soccer and winter baseball and indoor track and thus any sport can be done all year long. I'll be curious to watch our kids as they get older to see how many of them burn out, or worse, get seriously injured from the rigorous training we put them through. Now, I can already hear the indignant retorts of many of you, so let me assure you that I am not immune to the draw of youth sports. My son will soon be a 3 sport kid - karate, football, and baseball. He is happy as a clam on those rec teams, however, and we have Jayson in sports for different reasons than most parents so I feel like I can give myself a pass with him.
But I CONSTANTLY have to keep myself in check with my daughter. Katy started skating when she was in first grade, mainly because her entire rec soccer team went over to travel and Erik and I just weren't ready to make that leap. We signed her up for lessons and laced up the rental skates. For 2 years she happily moved along in skate school. It wasn't a huge time commitment and it wasn't really that expensive. Then one day someone asked if Katy wanted to try the Synchronized Skating team. I had never even heard of such a thing but it was a relatively cheap beginner team and she seemed to like it during the tryouts. She had a great time that year and we happily stayed in our oblivious bubble, not really understanding how crazy this sport could become. As time wore on, the reality of the sport hit us. In order to be "successful" in individual figure skating, you better be prepared to spend gobs of money, and put your child on the ice for hours each day. This was not going to happen with Katy. Not only could we not afford it, but I was weary of the time commitment. So we decided team synchro skating was the route to go. We loved the fact that she could make tons of friends, and we felt is was a cheaper way of enjoying the sport of ice skating. But like any other sport, not all teams were seen as equal. And you had "pay to play" so to speak.
But at the end of that year, most of the girls in her team organization left to go more successful teams. Katy's program never had a great reputation and the girls and parents were sick of losing. A small core of us decided to stick around and see if we could help the new coach build a program. I'd love to say we did this out of selflessness and a good heart, but really most of us just couldn't afford to go to the glitzier teams. And so for the next two years, Katy's synchro team finished at or near the bottom in every competition. It was hard to watch. At the end of every year more girls would leave to go to more successful teams, but still some of us stayed, this time because our girls had become very close friends. And although our girls didn't like losing, they chose the friendships thay had found over the medals they could probably get elsewhere. And in the mean time, they continued to practice, continued to try to improve themselves, and continued to learn that life doesn't end if you come in last place. And as high and mighty as I may sound (I'm really trying hard not to), I will totally admit that I thought about leaving at the end of every year - it was my daughter who insisted on staying.
But after 2 long years of relative failure, a funny thing happened. The coaches continued to build the program at the lower levels, and the higher level girls kept the bulk of their team together. They continued to practice, and continued to work hard, and they grew up and became a little stronger. The coaches encouraged them to work on invidual skills and most of us parents tried our hardest to make that happen without breaking the bank. All along the way the girls became even better friends, and the parents grew closer as well. In our own weird way, we had become a family of sorts (wildly dysfunctional, but what family isn't? lol.) Losing didn't bother us any more. And you know what? That's when the team started winning. This year the girls have earned their very first medals in synchro skating, and this past weekend brought their first ever Gold. You could have knocked those girls over with a feather when their coach showed them those medals - us parents as well. Years of "failure" only made their success sweeter. And along the way our girls learned valuable lessons - it's OK not to be the best, you can still find fun in sports when you don't win, and there is joy to be found in all your experienes - even if those experiences don't end successfully.
I suspect next year these girls will be competing on a different level since many of them are getting older. I could be wrong, and I hope I am, but I think it's likely they will find themselves out of medal contention next year as they get used to new levels and new skating skills. But regardless of what next year brings, I am confident they will enjoy themselves whether they come in first place or last place. So it's fun to watch them bask in the glow of gold right now, but it's even nicer to know they don't need it. We parents (me included) need to remember that...
As many of you know, Katy is a figure skater. She's not a great one, but she's also not a terrible one. Figure skating is full of drama - most of which, sadly, is provided by the parents. I find this to be true in any sport, really. For whatever reason, my generation tends to have this obsessive need to make sure our kids are "always on the best team". We start them in a sport earlier and earlier (soon there will be fetus leagues), and as soon possible some of us rush to put them on the coveted TRAVEL TEAM. God forbid we let them waste away on the lowly park district recreational team. And if our kids aren't chosen for those teams, or we think our kids are just so darn fantastic that they shouldn't be on the travel team, we simply quit that particular organization and form a new one. And sports never end - there is winter soccer and winter baseball and indoor track and thus any sport can be done all year long. I'll be curious to watch our kids as they get older to see how many of them burn out, or worse, get seriously injured from the rigorous training we put them through. Now, I can already hear the indignant retorts of many of you, so let me assure you that I am not immune to the draw of youth sports. My son will soon be a 3 sport kid - karate, football, and baseball. He is happy as a clam on those rec teams, however, and we have Jayson in sports for different reasons than most parents so I feel like I can give myself a pass with him.
But I CONSTANTLY have to keep myself in check with my daughter. Katy started skating when she was in first grade, mainly because her entire rec soccer team went over to travel and Erik and I just weren't ready to make that leap. We signed her up for lessons and laced up the rental skates. For 2 years she happily moved along in skate school. It wasn't a huge time commitment and it wasn't really that expensive. Then one day someone asked if Katy wanted to try the Synchronized Skating team. I had never even heard of such a thing but it was a relatively cheap beginner team and she seemed to like it during the tryouts. She had a great time that year and we happily stayed in our oblivious bubble, not really understanding how crazy this sport could become. As time wore on, the reality of the sport hit us. In order to be "successful" in individual figure skating, you better be prepared to spend gobs of money, and put your child on the ice for hours each day. This was not going to happen with Katy. Not only could we not afford it, but I was weary of the time commitment. So we decided team synchro skating was the route to go. We loved the fact that she could make tons of friends, and we felt is was a cheaper way of enjoying the sport of ice skating. But like any other sport, not all teams were seen as equal. And you had "pay to play" so to speak.
But at the end of that year, most of the girls in her team organization left to go more successful teams. Katy's program never had a great reputation and the girls and parents were sick of losing. A small core of us decided to stick around and see if we could help the new coach build a program. I'd love to say we did this out of selflessness and a good heart, but really most of us just couldn't afford to go to the glitzier teams. And so for the next two years, Katy's synchro team finished at or near the bottom in every competition. It was hard to watch. At the end of every year more girls would leave to go to more successful teams, but still some of us stayed, this time because our girls had become very close friends. And although our girls didn't like losing, they chose the friendships thay had found over the medals they could probably get elsewhere. And in the mean time, they continued to practice, continued to try to improve themselves, and continued to learn that life doesn't end if you come in last place. And as high and mighty as I may sound (I'm really trying hard not to), I will totally admit that I thought about leaving at the end of every year - it was my daughter who insisted on staying.
But after 2 long years of relative failure, a funny thing happened. The coaches continued to build the program at the lower levels, and the higher level girls kept the bulk of their team together. They continued to practice, and continued to work hard, and they grew up and became a little stronger. The coaches encouraged them to work on invidual skills and most of us parents tried our hardest to make that happen without breaking the bank. All along the way the girls became even better friends, and the parents grew closer as well. In our own weird way, we had become a family of sorts (wildly dysfunctional, but what family isn't? lol.) Losing didn't bother us any more. And you know what? That's when the team started winning. This year the girls have earned their very first medals in synchro skating, and this past weekend brought their first ever Gold. You could have knocked those girls over with a feather when their coach showed them those medals - us parents as well. Years of "failure" only made their success sweeter. And along the way our girls learned valuable lessons - it's OK not to be the best, you can still find fun in sports when you don't win, and there is joy to be found in all your experienes - even if those experiences don't end successfully.
I suspect next year these girls will be competing on a different level since many of them are getting older. I could be wrong, and I hope I am, but I think it's likely they will find themselves out of medal contention next year as they get used to new levels and new skating skills. But regardless of what next year brings, I am confident they will enjoy themselves whether they come in first place or last place. So it's fun to watch them bask in the glow of gold right now, but it's even nicer to know they don't need it. We parents (me included) need to remember that...
Friday, November 30, 2012
It Takes a Village
We've all heard the phrase, "It takes a village to raise a child". It's been thrown around for quite a few years now, started way back when by (I believe) Hillary Clinton. Never has this been more true than for my child, Jayson.
Every village has a leader, so I guess Erik and I qualify for that position in Jayson's life. We aren't perfect by any means (most leaders aren't), but we have good intentions and do our very best to guide Jayson. It's not easy. There are days when the responsibility is overwhelming and the problems seem insurmountable. That's when I'm so very grateful for the other villagers in Jayson's life.
Jayson's school is full of helpful villagers. I can't even begin to list all them and how they help and shape him - but here's just a few: It's his third grade teacher, who spends a ton of extra time figuring out how he learns best, and then calls me to help put plans into place for him. This same teacher calls me every once in awhile, giddy with excitement, when Jayson does well. I know she's a big cheerleader for him and that warms my heart. It's also the aide, who patiently redirects him when his attention wanders, and takes all his idiosyncrasies in stride. This same woman is trying desperately to put herself out of a job by making him more independent and responsible for his own organization. It's the speech pathologist and social worker, who see Jayson every week and continue to work on his social skills, grabbing me every chance they get in the school hallway to tell me how much they love spending time with him. It's the principal, who has sat in on nearly every IEP meeting with me and my husband, truly doing her best to make sure he gets all the supports he needs, and also stepping in when she thinks he's being bullied. It's the library workers, who always have a smile for him and treat him so kindly. It's the occupational therapist, who started on just as a consult, but thought perhaps there was something more she could do for Jayson so she asked my permission to test him and then decided to take him on for more in depth therapy - mind you, her schedule of students was already packed to the gills. It's the gym teacher who brought the Wii to school and introduced Jayson to "Just Dance", bringing happiness to his life and some wiggle in his booty. It's the music teacher, who gave him a tryout for a speaking role in the concert (he didn't get it this year, but maybe next year). It's all the teachers and aides in the past who have cheered him on and always have a smile for him in the halls. And it's the special kids who go out of their way for Jayson, asking the teacher if they can be his partner or help him when he has trouble. Even better, it's the kids who don't go out of their way for Jayson - they just treat him like any other normal third grader, talking about sports or playing tag or eating lunch with him.
And there's plenty of villagers to be found outside of school. There's his karate Sensei, a large man who could kill me with his thumbs, who has taught Jayson karate since he was 5 years old. He has the patience of a saint and has worked absolute miracles with Jayson's focusing skills. It's the football coach that knew right away that Jayson wasn't going to be a star player, but made sure he had a terrific experience at every practice and game. It's Erik's friend, Tyler, who owns deer hunting land down state, and often invites Erik and Jayson down for some "guy time", know how much Jayson LOVES climbing into the deer blinds and target shooting with bb guns. It's everyone at our church, who have known Jayson since he was born, and have accepted him without judgement, providing him with such a comfortable environment that he FINALLY has started going to Sunday school and has even shown interest in taking his First Communion. It's the families of all the girls on my daughter's skating team, who see him at the rink and even stay overnight with him at competitions, who readily accept him and never give him strange looks. It's their sons, who swim with him at the hotels we stay at, and provide such wonderful social models. It's my good friends, some of whom understand better than others what it's like to struggle with a child who is "different", who make him AND me feel relaxed and accepted. It's my neighbor's son, a high schooler, who knows Jayson idolizes him and always takes time out of his very busy schedule to spend time with him, or just say hello. Actually, it's all three of my neighbor's kids, who have never given off the vibe that they don't want him around - they always include him and accept him. And it's my family, who through the years have supported him and rooted for him at every single turn. I used to get frustrated with my family, who used to insist on how normal Jayson was. I always wanted to scream "No!! Stop pretending like everything is OK!!". But now I'm so very grateful for their attitudes. I never have to worry about what Jayson will say (or not say), or do (or not do) around my family. They always provide unconditional acceptance.
I'm sure I'm forgetting plenty of villagers, but Jayson is so blessed to have every single one of them in his life. It is because of them that he is doing so well, and growing up to be such a neat boy. Jayson's village is raising him up and guiding him well. There have been (and will be) many times when some villagers try to bring Jayson down. But thankfully those villagers are in the minority, vastly outnumbered by those who go out of their way to make him succeed.
And let's not forget that we are ALL villagers in each others lives. Our actions and words have profound effects on everyone around us. What kind of citizens do we want to be? Let's be productive ones. Let's all do our best to raise each other up, instead of tearing each other down. It takes a village to raise a child, but it takes all kinds to make a village. Let's make our villages great ones.
Every village has a leader, so I guess Erik and I qualify for that position in Jayson's life. We aren't perfect by any means (most leaders aren't), but we have good intentions and do our very best to guide Jayson. It's not easy. There are days when the responsibility is overwhelming and the problems seem insurmountable. That's when I'm so very grateful for the other villagers in Jayson's life.
Jayson's school is full of helpful villagers. I can't even begin to list all them and how they help and shape him - but here's just a few: It's his third grade teacher, who spends a ton of extra time figuring out how he learns best, and then calls me to help put plans into place for him. This same teacher calls me every once in awhile, giddy with excitement, when Jayson does well. I know she's a big cheerleader for him and that warms my heart. It's also the aide, who patiently redirects him when his attention wanders, and takes all his idiosyncrasies in stride. This same woman is trying desperately to put herself out of a job by making him more independent and responsible for his own organization. It's the speech pathologist and social worker, who see Jayson every week and continue to work on his social skills, grabbing me every chance they get in the school hallway to tell me how much they love spending time with him. It's the principal, who has sat in on nearly every IEP meeting with me and my husband, truly doing her best to make sure he gets all the supports he needs, and also stepping in when she thinks he's being bullied. It's the library workers, who always have a smile for him and treat him so kindly. It's the occupational therapist, who started on just as a consult, but thought perhaps there was something more she could do for Jayson so she asked my permission to test him and then decided to take him on for more in depth therapy - mind you, her schedule of students was already packed to the gills. It's the gym teacher who brought the Wii to school and introduced Jayson to "Just Dance", bringing happiness to his life and some wiggle in his booty. It's the music teacher, who gave him a tryout for a speaking role in the concert (he didn't get it this year, but maybe next year). It's all the teachers and aides in the past who have cheered him on and always have a smile for him in the halls. And it's the special kids who go out of their way for Jayson, asking the teacher if they can be his partner or help him when he has trouble. Even better, it's the kids who don't go out of their way for Jayson - they just treat him like any other normal third grader, talking about sports or playing tag or eating lunch with him.
And there's plenty of villagers to be found outside of school. There's his karate Sensei, a large man who could kill me with his thumbs, who has taught Jayson karate since he was 5 years old. He has the patience of a saint and has worked absolute miracles with Jayson's focusing skills. It's the football coach that knew right away that Jayson wasn't going to be a star player, but made sure he had a terrific experience at every practice and game. It's Erik's friend, Tyler, who owns deer hunting land down state, and often invites Erik and Jayson down for some "guy time", know how much Jayson LOVES climbing into the deer blinds and target shooting with bb guns. It's everyone at our church, who have known Jayson since he was born, and have accepted him without judgement, providing him with such a comfortable environment that he FINALLY has started going to Sunday school and has even shown interest in taking his First Communion. It's the families of all the girls on my daughter's skating team, who see him at the rink and even stay overnight with him at competitions, who readily accept him and never give him strange looks. It's their sons, who swim with him at the hotels we stay at, and provide such wonderful social models. It's my good friends, some of whom understand better than others what it's like to struggle with a child who is "different", who make him AND me feel relaxed and accepted. It's my neighbor's son, a high schooler, who knows Jayson idolizes him and always takes time out of his very busy schedule to spend time with him, or just say hello. Actually, it's all three of my neighbor's kids, who have never given off the vibe that they don't want him around - they always include him and accept him. And it's my family, who through the years have supported him and rooted for him at every single turn. I used to get frustrated with my family, who used to insist on how normal Jayson was. I always wanted to scream "No!! Stop pretending like everything is OK!!". But now I'm so very grateful for their attitudes. I never have to worry about what Jayson will say (or not say), or do (or not do) around my family. They always provide unconditional acceptance.
I'm sure I'm forgetting plenty of villagers, but Jayson is so blessed to have every single one of them in his life. It is because of them that he is doing so well, and growing up to be such a neat boy. Jayson's village is raising him up and guiding him well. There have been (and will be) many times when some villagers try to bring Jayson down. But thankfully those villagers are in the minority, vastly outnumbered by those who go out of their way to make him succeed.
And let's not forget that we are ALL villagers in each others lives. Our actions and words have profound effects on everyone around us. What kind of citizens do we want to be? Let's be productive ones. Let's all do our best to raise each other up, instead of tearing each other down. It takes a village to raise a child, but it takes all kinds to make a village. Let's make our villages great ones.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
My Own Parenting Gut Check...
As many of my friends know, my family has eagerly been awaiting the birth of my sister's second baby girl. Thanks to a well-timed day off from school, the kids and I were able to travel to Iowa Monday night and Tuesday and be there for the birth of little Betsy Lou. In fact, Jayson was the third family member to hold her, after her Mom and Dad. Betsy is happy and healthy and my sister can finally get on the road to recovery, since pregnancy was not very nice to her body this time around. There is nothing like a new baby. You sit there in the hospital and behold this little miracle, marveling at the fact that just hours ago she was curled up inside another human being. You ogle at every yawn, every little grunt, every little peek of the eyes. New babies hold so much hope and promise because you truly have before you a blank slate. To put it more bluntly - you haven't had a chance to screw them up yet.
I think I had about 3 hours after Katy was born where I could have been considered a perfect parent. I was still a little shell shocked, but managed to handle my first nursing feeding with aplomb. I changed her first poopy diaper like a pro, snuggled with her for awhile, and then sent her off to the nursery so they could clean her off, run some tests, and do whatever else they do in there. By the time they brought her back to me later that evening I was already a complete mess. I was a panicked new mom who became anxious over EVERYTHING. I worried about sleep schedule, feeding schedule and getting enough bonding time - mind you, I worried incessantly about this while STILL IN THE HOSPITAL! You can only imagine my anxiety level when I brought her home. Fast forward nearly 4 years and I remember thinking things would be different when Jayson was born. I knew what to do with a new baby so the second time around would go smoothly, right? Wrong. I was as panicked as ever, this time worrying not only about the new baby's schedule, but how I was going to turn little Katy's life upside down. In my early years as a parent, I truly did not have any confidence in myself. I loved my children more than anything, but was convinced I was doing a terrible job and ruining them every step of the way.
Ironically, it has been my more challenging child that has helped me gain a bit more confidence in my parenting. Yes he has autism, and yes he has social struggles, but many of the decisions Erik and I have made in parenting him have really paid off. We keep his home a calm place, don't overload him with too much madness, keep his routines as normal as possible, instill in him a strong school work ethic, introduce new experiences like sports and camp, and carefully surround him with nice kids who can be good social models and treat him kindly. At nearly 8 1/2 years old, Jayson is doing better than I ever though he would. I still wish I could sit and have deeper and more meaningful conversations with him, but perhaps that will come with time. I think our genuine love and acceptance of Jayson has been the best parenting strategy.
Even more ironically, it is the OTHER child - the straight A, sweet, caring, kind, helpful daughter that most often causes me to have some parenting gut checks. On the surface, Katy makes me look like a complete parenting success. She is smart, and very successful in school. She is sweet and shy and virtually never sasses me or acts inappropriately. But I look at her and see a very big way my parenting has negatively impacted her - Katy lacks confidence in herself and is an incessant worrier - everything makes her anxious. I truly believe she got that vibe from me from a very early age. My anxiousness made her anxious. My worrying caused her to worry. My lack of confidence in me caused her to doubt herself.
I think I always knew this in the back of my mind, but I really thought a lot about it on the drive home from Iowa yesterday. Fresh off our hospital visit and snuggles with her new baby cousin, Katy asked me all kinds of questions about what it was like when she was born and what it's like to be a new mom. I told her about all the magic and wonder, but also admitted to her my struggles. As I told her how anxious and worried I was I admitted that I now feel like a fool for doubting myself so much. I told her how I wished I had believed in myself more. And then I turned it around and told her that I wanted HER to believe in herself more. I implored her not to make my same mistakes. I tried to show her that a lot of her anxiousness stems from me, which in turn should make it easier for her to disown. It was a good conversation, and another example of how admitting and examining our own faults makes us stronger and better.
So I encourage everyone to do the occasional "gut check". Are there things you are doing (or not doing) as a parent that you know might affect your kids? It's more than OK if there are - none of us are perfect and we all make mistakes. But the biggest mistake of them all is ignoring it and never admitting it. Let's teach our kids that gut checks are a good way to recalibrate yourself, and that you are never too old face mistakes. After you do that, go and look at pictures of my new niece. She's adorable...
I think I had about 3 hours after Katy was born where I could have been considered a perfect parent. I was still a little shell shocked, but managed to handle my first nursing feeding with aplomb. I changed her first poopy diaper like a pro, snuggled with her for awhile, and then sent her off to the nursery so they could clean her off, run some tests, and do whatever else they do in there. By the time they brought her back to me later that evening I was already a complete mess. I was a panicked new mom who became anxious over EVERYTHING. I worried about sleep schedule, feeding schedule and getting enough bonding time - mind you, I worried incessantly about this while STILL IN THE HOSPITAL! You can only imagine my anxiety level when I brought her home. Fast forward nearly 4 years and I remember thinking things would be different when Jayson was born. I knew what to do with a new baby so the second time around would go smoothly, right? Wrong. I was as panicked as ever, this time worrying not only about the new baby's schedule, but how I was going to turn little Katy's life upside down. In my early years as a parent, I truly did not have any confidence in myself. I loved my children more than anything, but was convinced I was doing a terrible job and ruining them every step of the way.
Ironically, it has been my more challenging child that has helped me gain a bit more confidence in my parenting. Yes he has autism, and yes he has social struggles, but many of the decisions Erik and I have made in parenting him have really paid off. We keep his home a calm place, don't overload him with too much madness, keep his routines as normal as possible, instill in him a strong school work ethic, introduce new experiences like sports and camp, and carefully surround him with nice kids who can be good social models and treat him kindly. At nearly 8 1/2 years old, Jayson is doing better than I ever though he would. I still wish I could sit and have deeper and more meaningful conversations with him, but perhaps that will come with time. I think our genuine love and acceptance of Jayson has been the best parenting strategy.
Even more ironically, it is the OTHER child - the straight A, sweet, caring, kind, helpful daughter that most often causes me to have some parenting gut checks. On the surface, Katy makes me look like a complete parenting success. She is smart, and very successful in school. She is sweet and shy and virtually never sasses me or acts inappropriately. But I look at her and see a very big way my parenting has negatively impacted her - Katy lacks confidence in herself and is an incessant worrier - everything makes her anxious. I truly believe she got that vibe from me from a very early age. My anxiousness made her anxious. My worrying caused her to worry. My lack of confidence in me caused her to doubt herself.
I think I always knew this in the back of my mind, but I really thought a lot about it on the drive home from Iowa yesterday. Fresh off our hospital visit and snuggles with her new baby cousin, Katy asked me all kinds of questions about what it was like when she was born and what it's like to be a new mom. I told her about all the magic and wonder, but also admitted to her my struggles. As I told her how anxious and worried I was I admitted that I now feel like a fool for doubting myself so much. I told her how I wished I had believed in myself more. And then I turned it around and told her that I wanted HER to believe in herself more. I implored her not to make my same mistakes. I tried to show her that a lot of her anxiousness stems from me, which in turn should make it easier for her to disown. It was a good conversation, and another example of how admitting and examining our own faults makes us stronger and better.
So I encourage everyone to do the occasional "gut check". Are there things you are doing (or not doing) as a parent that you know might affect your kids? It's more than OK if there are - none of us are perfect and we all make mistakes. But the biggest mistake of them all is ignoring it and never admitting it. Let's teach our kids that gut checks are a good way to recalibrate yourself, and that you are never too old face mistakes. After you do that, go and look at pictures of my new niece. She's adorable...
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
If You Don't Have Anything Nice to Say...
Since starting this blog about a year ago I have tried to put up 2 posts a month. I usually have a running list in my head of topics I want to cover and there is enough excitement in my life with 2 school age children that new topics usually pop into my head all the time.
Well, I must be in some kind of a funk this month because every time I sit down at the computer to write a blog post I find myself wanting to write a rant. I'm steaming about a few things right now and was considering airing it all out on the blog. After all, many bloggers do this and it's probably pretty cathartic. I have gone on mini-rants before, but the things bothering me right now are a little too personal. I'm not sure a public blog is the place to air that out. Sure this blog has been a great place for me to explore some of the big life questions I've wrestled with while turning 40. But perhaps one thing I've learned is when to shut my mouth.
Consider it shut for this month. I'm going to work on my anger, focus on the (many) positive things going on right now, and save my ranting for a more appropriate audience. Perhaps my next blog topic will be on something much less controversial - like politics.
Happy October, everyone.
Well, I must be in some kind of a funk this month because every time I sit down at the computer to write a blog post I find myself wanting to write a rant. I'm steaming about a few things right now and was considering airing it all out on the blog. After all, many bloggers do this and it's probably pretty cathartic. I have gone on mini-rants before, but the things bothering me right now are a little too personal. I'm not sure a public blog is the place to air that out. Sure this blog has been a great place for me to explore some of the big life questions I've wrestled with while turning 40. But perhaps one thing I've learned is when to shut my mouth.
Consider it shut for this month. I'm going to work on my anger, focus on the (many) positive things going on right now, and save my ranting for a more appropriate audience. Perhaps my next blog topic will be on something much less controversial - like politics.
Happy October, everyone.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Half Crazy: A Race Report, and Lessons Learned...
This past weekend my four friends and I ran the Quad Cities Half Marathon. I had been looking forward to this weekend for a long time. We had picked the race back in May because it took place in the home town of one of the girls, and also had the best free swag I've ever seen in a goodie bag (a shirt, running gloves, AND a cool fuel belt??? JACKPOT). We spent the entire summer training together and all those early mornings had really paid off. We were all much faster and stronger than we were just 6 months ago. Many of us were THIS CLOSE to breaking the 2 hour mark. All we needed was great weather, some race adrenaline, and a flat course.
Well, 2 out of 3 ain't bad. We drove the course the night before and checked out possible hills. I'm ashamed to say some curse words came out of my mouth as we looked at the first 4 miles. The hills were pretty imposing to me and, since I never train on hills, I tempered my expectations for a finish time and focused on our fun meal out. We all had a nice carby dinner at Noodles and Company and then went shopping for (what else?) more running clothes. The temperatures looked to be very cold in the morning so we wanted to be prepared with warmer gear. After a decent night's rest, we woke up at 5:00 and started getting ready. We wanted to get to the starting line early to find the 2 hour pacer guy. Basically, if you stuck with the pacer runner, you would be guaranteed to finish in under 2 hours.
The 2 hour pacer guy was named Kevin - he was a spry young kid in his 20's (ah, youth - 2 hours was probably slumming it for him). I introduced myself to him, but warned him that I might not be able to keep up. He was totally friendly and seemed like he would have been a lovely guy to run a race with. Unfortunately, all I saw was the back of Kevin's head as he sprinted up the first hill like it was a curb. Ugh. Well, goodbye Kevin and goodbye sub 2 hours (or so I thought). I took the first 4 miles easy, going slowly up and down each hill, as to not kill my knees and quad muscles. I wasn't wearing my Garmin watch because I've had much better success just listening to my body and figuring out what it can handle. My friend Julie ran with me for much of the first 9 miles or so, but after a few miles she refused to tell me our pace. I'm so glad she did that because I did so much better not knowing.
After 4 miles the course flattened out considerably. I was so glad I had taken those hills easy because I felt really good by mile 6. I put on my headphones, smiled at Julie (who was rocking that course in her Vibram toe shoes!), and decided it was time to run my own race. I knew I was going faster with each passing mile, but still had no idea what my pace was or what my finish time would be. After one last water break at mile 10, I steeled myself for the last 3 miles of the race. As I approached mile 11 1/2 I noticed a water station but knew I didn't need it. I was moving over to the left to give the other runners room, when low and behold, I saw a very familiar face holding a very familiar sign. It was Kevin. I had caught up to, and was going to pass, the 2 hour pacer guy. I screamed his name at the top of my lungs "KKKEEEVVVIIINNN!!!!" and blew past him. He cheered me on and said "Go Go! You can do it!!". At that point I knew I had a sub two finish in my grasp. Those last 2 1/2 miles were very fast and very, very hard. But as I ran down that last hill (Really? A hill at mile 13? Who does that? ) and turned the corner towards the finish line, I gave it every last thing I had in me. I saw the clock ahead of me hit 1:59:30 so I broke out in a full on sprint and crossed at 1:59:58. I had forgotten that my chip time would be less because it took a minute to even reach the starting line. My official finish time was 1:58:46. I had done it. My other friend set a PR with a 1:55 finish time, and yet another friend beat her last half marathon time by TWENTY minutes, crossing at 2:04. Quite an accomplishment.
My celebration was short lived, however. One of the girls in my group ended up in the medical tent and needed some serious attention. Thank goodness one of our friends came upon her right before the finish and helped her. While we sat in the medical area with her, I reflected on the race and some of the lighthearted and more serious lessons I learned while running the Quad Cities Half:
1. Friends rock - part of what I've come to love about my running is the friendships that have been created and cemented. All 5 of us run our long runs together and we usually pair up with someone during the week for the shorter runs. We are a goofy bunch that share at least one thing in common, whether it be our daughters on the skating team, our sons on the autism spectrum, or our love of knitting. We spent most of the weekend laughing and eating - what's better than that? I adore all these ladies and feel grateful that they want to hang with me!
2. Training pays off- All those early morning summer runs, all those miles that I pushed the pace just a little bit, all the changes I made with my eating - it paid off in spades. I wasn't sure I could do a sub 2 race, and in fact my fastest training run had me on pace to finish at 2:03. But the training prepared my body and the adrenaline of race day pushed me just one last bit further. Trust the training!
3. But things can go wrong even if you do everything right. Unfortunately, some times you can train and train and then the unforeseen happens. Perhaps you turn your ankle the day before the race. Perhaps you come down with stomach flu. In the case of my friend, we think an allergy medicine she took the night before may have dehydrated her more than she realized, causing her to break down on the course. The scariest illustration of this lesson came while we were in the medical room with our friend. While we sat and kept her company, they wheeled in a 24 year old woman who's heart had stopped beating. While they performed CPR and literally shocked her with paddles, her friend was sobbing at her side and telling the doctors that they had trained and eaten well the day before. Their 12 miler just 2 weeks before had gone perfectly. She had never had any health problems before that day. 24 years old. I don't even know what ended up happening to that poor girl. Treasure your health and be grateful for every run that your body allows you to do safely. Be smart and take care of yourself the very best you can, and pray that nothing else goes wrong.
4. Running is a gift. Now I don't mean that I'm gifted at running. Quite the contrary, actually. I just look back at the last 2 years and realize all the joy I have found in something I never thought I could do. While I ran along the Mississippi river this weekend I soaked in all the beauty of my surroundings. I saw people on the course that inspired the heck out of me - whether it was the senior citizen who I literally COULD NOT CATCH the entire race, or the very overweight man who kept going on his leg of the marathon relay, even though he was clearly struggling, or my one of my very own friends, who carried our other friend across the line. There is a lot of humanity in running, and there is so much beauty to be found. I am grateful my body can do this right now, and hope it will continue for many years to come.
I'll carry these lessons with me into my next running journey. Training for marathon #2 begins December 11. The Road Whorriers will be running the Martian Marathon in Dearborn, Michigan on April 13. Bring it!!
Well, 2 out of 3 ain't bad. We drove the course the night before and checked out possible hills. I'm ashamed to say some curse words came out of my mouth as we looked at the first 4 miles. The hills were pretty imposing to me and, since I never train on hills, I tempered my expectations for a finish time and focused on our fun meal out. We all had a nice carby dinner at Noodles and Company and then went shopping for (what else?) more running clothes. The temperatures looked to be very cold in the morning so we wanted to be prepared with warmer gear. After a decent night's rest, we woke up at 5:00 and started getting ready. We wanted to get to the starting line early to find the 2 hour pacer guy. Basically, if you stuck with the pacer runner, you would be guaranteed to finish in under 2 hours.
The 2 hour pacer guy was named Kevin - he was a spry young kid in his 20's (ah, youth - 2 hours was probably slumming it for him). I introduced myself to him, but warned him that I might not be able to keep up. He was totally friendly and seemed like he would have been a lovely guy to run a race with. Unfortunately, all I saw was the back of Kevin's head as he sprinted up the first hill like it was a curb. Ugh. Well, goodbye Kevin and goodbye sub 2 hours (or so I thought). I took the first 4 miles easy, going slowly up and down each hill, as to not kill my knees and quad muscles. I wasn't wearing my Garmin watch because I've had much better success just listening to my body and figuring out what it can handle. My friend Julie ran with me for much of the first 9 miles or so, but after a few miles she refused to tell me our pace. I'm so glad she did that because I did so much better not knowing.
After 4 miles the course flattened out considerably. I was so glad I had taken those hills easy because I felt really good by mile 6. I put on my headphones, smiled at Julie (who was rocking that course in her Vibram toe shoes!), and decided it was time to run my own race. I knew I was going faster with each passing mile, but still had no idea what my pace was or what my finish time would be. After one last water break at mile 10, I steeled myself for the last 3 miles of the race. As I approached mile 11 1/2 I noticed a water station but knew I didn't need it. I was moving over to the left to give the other runners room, when low and behold, I saw a very familiar face holding a very familiar sign. It was Kevin. I had caught up to, and was going to pass, the 2 hour pacer guy. I screamed his name at the top of my lungs "KKKEEEVVVIIINNN!!!!" and blew past him. He cheered me on and said "Go Go! You can do it!!". At that point I knew I had a sub two finish in my grasp. Those last 2 1/2 miles were very fast and very, very hard. But as I ran down that last hill (Really? A hill at mile 13? Who does that? ) and turned the corner towards the finish line, I gave it every last thing I had in me. I saw the clock ahead of me hit 1:59:30 so I broke out in a full on sprint and crossed at 1:59:58. I had forgotten that my chip time would be less because it took a minute to even reach the starting line. My official finish time was 1:58:46. I had done it. My other friend set a PR with a 1:55 finish time, and yet another friend beat her last half marathon time by TWENTY minutes, crossing at 2:04. Quite an accomplishment.
My celebration was short lived, however. One of the girls in my group ended up in the medical tent and needed some serious attention. Thank goodness one of our friends came upon her right before the finish and helped her. While we sat in the medical area with her, I reflected on the race and some of the lighthearted and more serious lessons I learned while running the Quad Cities Half:
1. Friends rock - part of what I've come to love about my running is the friendships that have been created and cemented. All 5 of us run our long runs together and we usually pair up with someone during the week for the shorter runs. We are a goofy bunch that share at least one thing in common, whether it be our daughters on the skating team, our sons on the autism spectrum, or our love of knitting. We spent most of the weekend laughing and eating - what's better than that? I adore all these ladies and feel grateful that they want to hang with me!
2. Training pays off- All those early morning summer runs, all those miles that I pushed the pace just a little bit, all the changes I made with my eating - it paid off in spades. I wasn't sure I could do a sub 2 race, and in fact my fastest training run had me on pace to finish at 2:03. But the training prepared my body and the adrenaline of race day pushed me just one last bit further. Trust the training!
3. But things can go wrong even if you do everything right. Unfortunately, some times you can train and train and then the unforeseen happens. Perhaps you turn your ankle the day before the race. Perhaps you come down with stomach flu. In the case of my friend, we think an allergy medicine she took the night before may have dehydrated her more than she realized, causing her to break down on the course. The scariest illustration of this lesson came while we were in the medical room with our friend. While we sat and kept her company, they wheeled in a 24 year old woman who's heart had stopped beating. While they performed CPR and literally shocked her with paddles, her friend was sobbing at her side and telling the doctors that they had trained and eaten well the day before. Their 12 miler just 2 weeks before had gone perfectly. She had never had any health problems before that day. 24 years old. I don't even know what ended up happening to that poor girl. Treasure your health and be grateful for every run that your body allows you to do safely. Be smart and take care of yourself the very best you can, and pray that nothing else goes wrong.
4. Running is a gift. Now I don't mean that I'm gifted at running. Quite the contrary, actually. I just look back at the last 2 years and realize all the joy I have found in something I never thought I could do. While I ran along the Mississippi river this weekend I soaked in all the beauty of my surroundings. I saw people on the course that inspired the heck out of me - whether it was the senior citizen who I literally COULD NOT CATCH the entire race, or the very overweight man who kept going on his leg of the marathon relay, even though he was clearly struggling, or my one of my very own friends, who carried our other friend across the line. There is a lot of humanity in running, and there is so much beauty to be found. I am grateful my body can do this right now, and hope it will continue for many years to come.
I'll carry these lessons with me into my next running journey. Training for marathon #2 begins December 11. The Road Whorriers will be running the Martian Marathon in Dearborn, Michigan on April 13. Bring it!!
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