No, I know how to give up. And I do sometimes. What I push for is to know the difference between need to give up and want to give up, and to always push through (discomfort or even mild pain, fear, exhaustion, uncertainty, frustration) when it’s the latter. And through being faithful to that exercise I’ve found that it almost always is.

No, I know how to give up. And I do sometimes. What I push for is to know the difference between need to give up and want to give up, and to always push through (discomfort or even mild pain, fear, exhaustion, uncertainty, frustration) when it’s the latter. And through being faithful to that exercise I’ve found that it almost always is.

(via runnerthings)

“You don’t stand in front of a mirror before a run and wonder what the road will think of your outfit. You don’t have to listen to its jokes and pretend they’re funny. lt would not be easier to run if you dressed sexier. The road doesn’t notice if you’re not wearing lipstick. lt does not care how old you are. You do not feel uncomfortable because you make more money than the road. And you can call on the road whenever you feel like it, whether it’s been a day or even a couple of hours since your last date. The only thing the road cares about is that you pay it a visit once in a while.”

— via starbucksrunner

(via runnerthings)

My youngest graduated from high school over the weekend (that’s her, waving). I don’t think I was prepared for the intensity of watching it unfold throughout the evening. After struggling for 12 years — less the four years we homeschooled her, which felt like an oasis of peace and progress — with the limitations of public schools in dealing with special needs kids, especially kids who are high-functioning in some areas, much lower in others, I wasn’t sure we’d ever get here. But through a serendipitous move she found a great home at Wooster for her last year of high school, and made up for some lost time, and then there she was, capped and gowned and so full of confidence and grace and excitement. And there I was, trying to say, “wait.” This kind of stuff never feels fast when you’re going through it, in fact, often it was frustratingly, no, m a d d e n i n g l y slow and sluggish. But just when you’ve settled in and surrendered to that rhythm, steeled your sense of patience, very suddenly it’s over, and you’re scrambling to adjust. Anyway. With all the festivities of that and the race done and all our company gone home and things sinking back into a normal pace, I think the summer of book-finishing can get underway.

My youngest graduated from high school over the weekend (that’s her, waving). I don’t think I was prepared for the intensity of watching it unfold throughout the evening. After struggling for 12 years — less the four years we homeschooled her, which felt like an oasis of peace and progress — with the limitations of public schools in dealing with special needs kids, especially kids who are high-functioning in some areas, much lower in others, I wasn’t sure we’d ever get here. But through a serendipitous move she found a great home at Wooster for her last year of high school, and made up for some lost time, and then there she was, capped and gowned and so full of confidence and grace and excitement. And there I was, trying to say, “wait.”

This kind of stuff never feels fast when you’re going through it, in fact, often it was frustratingly, no, m a d d e n i n g l y slow and sluggish. But just when you’ve settled in and surrendered to that rhythm, steeled your sense of patience, very suddenly it’s over, and you’re scrambling to adjust.

Anyway. With all the festivities of that and the race done and all our company gone home and things sinking back into a normal pace, I think the summer of book-finishing can get underway.

Got my old lady compression socks on, my ankle ice pack over those, trying on my tied-up-sausage reflector harness, popping Prilosec and ibuprofen, scratching the sunscreen off my face. Runners are SEXY.


36 hours to GO time.