Happy Friday!!!
Friday has been a day that has always made me giddy. Even when I had to work on Saturday, Friday still seemed like a perfect day. There is an energy to this day; the excitement for what the weekend holds is in the air.
A few weekends ago Matt put this song on repeat and it could be heard throughout our house blaring from the small computer speakers in our office. It's one of my favorite songs and I even love it more after watching the video.
Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros "Home" from Edward Sharpe on Vimeo.
Today, I caught myself whistling this song as I cleaned the dirty dishes from yesterday evening's dinner which included homemade everything: (click on links for recipes)
BBQ pulled pork sandwiches
Coleslaw
Applesauce
* Please note that I made the applesauce on the stove top *
Unfortunately, I hate the lighting in my kitchen at night so I didn't take any photos, but Matt said it was "delicious" and he couldn't keep his nose out of the sauce pan as I was cooking the apples and since he is my one-and-only critic, I'll take that as a compliment.
I don't think I'll be making dinner tonight. I got four shots/immunizations today for my upcoming trip back to Ethiopia and I can hardly move my arms. I'm a wimp. I'm not scared to admit it. The new Harry Potter movie comes out so I'm thinking "why not grab a burger from a local pub and sit and eat some greasy popcorn afterward?" Fridays really are the best day of the week. I hope you find something that is your "favorite" of the day, after all it is Friday!
11.19.2010
11.17.2010
The Simplehearted
Sim*ple-heart*ed {sim-puhl-hahr-tid}
adjective
free of deceit; artless; sincere.
The psalm of David captures in words what I cannot express:
adjective
free of deceit; artless; sincere.
The Lord protects the simplehearted; when I was in great need, he saved me.
Psalm 116:6
I am thankful for my God. I am thankful that he has never left me nor forsaken me. I feel like I can breathe again. I can laugh once more. I have joy.
When I started to pray and seek God's heart, he spoke to mine. I felt him telling me to rest. What a joyful rest!
He has opened my eyes and breathed new life into me once again. My joy is from within and he has allowed me to smile and enjoy the simple things in life; the uncomplicated beauty that he wants for me/us. I find great pleasure in seeking his world as He sees it:
- life-giving relationships
- Laughter
- Beauty in the sounds of birds
- Beauty in the gray sky morning
- Whole foods
- The love for the handmade
- All of these things should be centered around people and relationships
In the spirit of the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday, I find myself to be thankful for Him. Thankful for Him giving me great peace and rest - a state of unthreatened well-being. Thankful for making me simplehearted once more.
How can I repay Him? How can I thank the Lord for his goodness?
I can only offer my desire to please him in my actions and in my words.
What are you thankful for this season?
 | ||
| May I find joy in all things "simple" |
The psalm of David captures in words what I cannot express:
Be at rest once more, O my soul, for the Lord has been good to you.
For you, O Lord, have delivered my soul from death, my eyes from tears, my feet from stumbling, that I may walk before the Lord in the land of the living. I believed; therefore I said, I am greatly afllicted. And in my dismay I said, 'All men are liars.'
How can I repay the Lord for all his goodness to me? I will lift up the cup of salvation and call on the name of the Lord.
I will fulfill my vows to the Lord in the presence of all his people.
Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints. O Lord, truly I am your servant; I am your servant, the son of your maidservant, you have freed me from my chains.
I will sacrifice a thank offering to you and call on the name of the Lord. I will full my vows to the Lord in the presence of all his people. In the courts of the house of the Lord - in your midst, O Jerusalem.
Praise the Lord.
Psalm 116:7-19
11.15.2010
Do I Hear Drums?
When the morning comes
Let it go, this too shall pass
This song is dedicated to my Matty K. It's silly, I know, but I am dedicating it to him for two reasons:
1) He loves a good drum line - No, I mean he seriously gets excited when two drum lines go head-to-head in a good competition
2) He's (we) faced with some pretty heavy decisions about what to do in the next 6 months and this decision will need to be made in the upcoming weeks. This decision will impact us both and I know he is confused so this song is only a word of encouragement - Let it go, this too shall pass.
I don't want to get into details here, but these decisions involve one of three options: 1) Moving to another state 2) Staying here and in the current position he's in for one more year 3) Get out of the military and join the reserves
So, with that, I ask for your prayers. I ask that you pray that we continue to trust God with pointing us in the right direction and that we follow what we know is right vs. just our feelings.
Feelings have too many thoughts involved. I'm not saying that feelings are wrong, but thinking things "to death" can lead to confusion and ultimately we will have no peace. I have been reading a few excerpts from the book Our Thoughts Determine Our Lives with the teachings of Elder Thaddeus of Vitovnica and here are a few quotes that I would like to share with you:
"Our life depends on the kind of thoughts we nurture. if our thoughts are peaceful, calm, meek, and kind, then that is what our life is like. If our attention is turned to the circumstances in which we live, we are drawn into a whirlpool of thoughts and can have neither peace nor tranquility."
In the meantime, watch the video by OK Go for a nice chuckle and a reminder that all of life's difficult decisions and circumstances will pass. But while I wait for them to pass, I will lean on the One who will give Matty K and me all the positive thoughts we will need until "the morning comes..."
11.12.2010
Hallelujah for Indian Summers
It's been a beautiful fall this year - a perfect Indian Summer. I haven't seen a cloud in the sky for over three days. It's chilly in the morning with temperatures in the 30's, but during the day the temperature doubles. I have always enjoyed Jeff Buckley and a few years ago, Matty K told me that it was his favorite song so I listened to it this morning and it was the perfect backdrop to my morning cup of coffee where I watched the sunlight drip in through my blinds. The wind made the leaves sway in the wind and made the sunlight look like it was dancing on my wood floors to the tune of Jeff Buckley's Hallelujah.
Indian Summers are like candy to me. A little unexpected treat for us to enjoy. When fall comes upon me, I can't decide if I long for the warmth of summer or for the coziness of fall, but then an Indian Summer comes along and it's like "oh, this is exactly what I wanted".
Matty K was off yesterday and we made our usual breakfast together and we got to talking about crepes. Matty tasted his first crepe just a few weeks ago and I couldn't get over it. Crepes are delicious and so I went to my favorite food blog and looked up a recipe for crepes and I came upon this yummy recipe made in a beautiful space.
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| Image: Sparkling Ink |
I plan on making a treat of crepes for Matty K and I to enjoy this evening. Unfortunately, they will be made inside, but we will sit on the porch and eat them while enjoying this fiery red tree in our yard.
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| Hello! |
Psalm 108:
My heart is steadfast, O God:
I will sing and make music with all my soul.
Awake, harp and lyre!
I will awaken the dawn.
I will praise you, O Lord, among the nations:
I will sing of you among the peoples.
For great is your love, higher than the heavens;
your faithfulness reaches to the skies.
Be exalted, O God, above the heavens,
and let your glory be all over the earth.
Today, He reminds me of His love. How can my breath not be taken away by the sweet voice of Jeff Buckley, the sunlight dancing on my floors, and the bright red, fiery leaves...
"And every breath we drew was Hallelujah..." - Jeff Buckley
11.05.2010
Thanks but No Thanks Pottery Barn
I love eggnog. I love it even more in my coffee. I ran out of half & half so I substituted with eggnog this morning.
Yes, eggnog is in full supply at your local grocery store. When I saw it on the shelf last week I thought I heard music playing and my eyes zeroed in on the half gallon. Some people don't like eggnog. Why? It's dee-lish-us.
Eggnog also reminds me of Christmas. However, I feel much different about this Christmas than I have in years past. I'm disgusted in a way. Disgusted in a way that I want to tear up Christmas displays at stores (think of the image of Jesus overturning tables in the temple courts in disgust of how the temple had been turned into a market John 2:15). Perhaps this is a bit drastic and maybe I can blame it on the six holiday seasons that I worked for a national retailer and getting to hear for months the 4th quarter statistics and goals. While working for a national retailer there were $$ signs in the eyes of every employee and guests were walking doll-uh bills ($$). I don't want to be "preachy", because really, I am just like everyone else. I have gotten wrapped up in giving out of the sake of "giving" and never truly enjoying it. I'm disgusted with myself. I am saddened that I do not know the full meaning of Christmas any more. (Did I ever?)
When someone says the word "Christmas" images of cookies, and Christmas trees, and hot cocoa come to mind. I want to experience Christmas for the wonder that it truly is. This year, I want to understand Christmas on a whole new level. I want to:
1) worship fully
2) spend less and serve more
3) Give more - my time, encouragement (not necessarily gifts)
4) Love all
I have many ideas that I want to do this Christmas since this is the first Christmas that I will be spending with my side of the family since 2005. Not only is it special for that simple fact, but I want to celebrate this Christmas in a radically different way - a way that truly gives God all the glory and honor and changes me from the inside out.
This Christmas I have a few goals:
- In lieu of others giving me gifts, I would prefer those to give to Project Ethiopia. (I will have more information in the next week on how to do so with up-to-date reports on where that money is being spent and who is benefiting from the gift.)
- I will be encouraging others to do the same - to ask for gifts to be given to benefit those who have less. I promise you that you will never regret giving.
- Give meaningful gifts. The gifts I do give away must be handmade by either myself or from a third world artisan who benefits from fair trade.
Will you join me?
My mailbox has been full of magazines from stores who want to pocket my money and take away the real meaning of Christmas. Pottery Barn had this on their front cover:
"Give Joyfully"
Yep, I plan on doing that this year...just not from the pages of their catalogs or from the shelves of their stores.
I feel like a kid again on Christmas day - the anticipation and excitement is bubbling over with uncovering the true meaning. And you know what? I think it will taste even better than eggnog!
Yes, eggnog is in full supply at your local grocery store. When I saw it on the shelf last week I thought I heard music playing and my eyes zeroed in on the half gallon. Some people don't like eggnog. Why? It's dee-lish-us.
 |
| Yum. Steaming cup of coffee with eggnog. |
Eggnog also reminds me of Christmas. However, I feel much different about this Christmas than I have in years past. I'm disgusted in a way. Disgusted in a way that I want to tear up Christmas displays at stores (think of the image of Jesus overturning tables in the temple courts in disgust of how the temple had been turned into a market John 2:15). Perhaps this is a bit drastic and maybe I can blame it on the six holiday seasons that I worked for a national retailer and getting to hear for months the 4th quarter statistics and goals. While working for a national retailer there were $$ signs in the eyes of every employee and guests were walking doll-uh bills ($$). I don't want to be "preachy", because really, I am just like everyone else. I have gotten wrapped up in giving out of the sake of "giving" and never truly enjoying it. I'm disgusted with myself. I am saddened that I do not know the full meaning of Christmas any more. (Did I ever?)
When someone says the word "Christmas" images of cookies, and Christmas trees, and hot cocoa come to mind. I want to experience Christmas for the wonder that it truly is. This year, I want to understand Christmas on a whole new level. I want to:
1) worship fully
2) spend less and serve more
3) Give more - my time, encouragement (not necessarily gifts)
4) Love all
I have many ideas that I want to do this Christmas since this is the first Christmas that I will be spending with my side of the family since 2005. Not only is it special for that simple fact, but I want to celebrate this Christmas in a radically different way - a way that truly gives God all the glory and honor and changes me from the inside out.
This Christmas I have a few goals:
- In lieu of others giving me gifts, I would prefer those to give to Project Ethiopia. (I will have more information in the next week on how to do so with up-to-date reports on where that money is being spent and who is benefiting from the gift.)
- I will be encouraging others to do the same - to ask for gifts to be given to benefit those who have less. I promise you that you will never regret giving.
- Give meaningful gifts. The gifts I do give away must be handmade by either myself or from a third world artisan who benefits from fair trade.
Will you join me?
My mailbox has been full of magazines from stores who want to pocket my money and take away the real meaning of Christmas. Pottery Barn had this on their front cover:
 |
| Give Joyfully - yeah, I plan on it! |
"Give Joyfully"
Yep, I plan on doing that this year...just not from the pages of their catalogs or from the shelves of their stores.
I feel like a kid again on Christmas day - the anticipation and excitement is bubbling over with uncovering the true meaning. And you know what? I think it will taste even better than eggnog!
11.03.2010
Home.
It's 11am.
I woke up to a cold and gray morning - it started drizzling about an hour ago.
My house is currently 62 degrees and I am too stubborn to turn on the heat, so instead I turn the heater on in my office and aim it directly at me. However, my pup would prefer it be aimed at him.
It sounds kinda lousy, but I love it. I love how I am bundled in a sweatshirt and get to wear silly socks. I love how I am able to hold a cup of homemade chai in my cold hands. I love how I can make honey bran muffins and eat them when they are still warm from the oven.
Cold days make me appreciate warmth; they make me appreciate home.
Home.
This is something that has been on my mind lately. Where is "home"? Well, home is wherever Matt and I are together, however, we have more news that we may have to pack up once more and make a new "home". The decisions are big and each one has its advantages and disadvantages.
I read from Philippians 2:19-30 and Paul is talking about sending Timothy to the Philippian church. I stopped at v. 20-21 "I have no one else like him, who takes a genuine interest in your welfare. For everyone looks out for his own interests, not those of Jesus Christ."
For everyone looks out for his own interests, not those of Jesus Christ.
True.
In the midst of facing a huge decision, I still found myself seeking out my own interests, purposefully forgetting to hand over the decision to the One who knows what is best for Matt and me.
Change is such a hard thing to accept. I fight it. You fight it. We fight it. Change is inevitable and, yet, I forget how much good it brings. How even a simple change in the weather (like today) makes me appreciate the sunny days of yesterday or it allows me to appreciate a hot cup of chai that much more.
“This is what I’ve come to believe about change: it’s good, in the way that childbirth is good, and heartbreak is good, and failure is good. By that I mean that it’s incredibly painful, exponentially more so if you fight it, and also that it has the potential to open you up, to open life up, to deliver you right into the palm of God’s hand, which is where you wanted to be all along, except that you were too busy pushing and pulling your life into exactly what you thought it should be.”
~ Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet
Today is a reminder that I am not in control, but I can rest in the one who is. He is my home. He is my one constant in the midst of change. He knows best.
I woke up to a cold and gray morning - it started drizzling about an hour ago.
My house is currently 62 degrees and I am too stubborn to turn on the heat, so instead I turn the heater on in my office and aim it directly at me. However, my pup would prefer it be aimed at him.
 |
| Silly Rider |
It sounds kinda lousy, but I love it. I love how I am bundled in a sweatshirt and get to wear silly socks. I love how I am able to hold a cup of homemade chai in my cold hands. I love how I can make honey bran muffins and eat them when they are still warm from the oven.
 |
| Shop local! |
Cold days make me appreciate warmth; they make me appreciate home.
Home.
This is something that has been on my mind lately. Where is "home"? Well, home is wherever Matt and I are together, however, we have more news that we may have to pack up once more and make a new "home". The decisions are big and each one has its advantages and disadvantages.
I read from Philippians 2:19-30 and Paul is talking about sending Timothy to the Philippian church. I stopped at v. 20-21 "I have no one else like him, who takes a genuine interest in your welfare. For everyone looks out for his own interests, not those of Jesus Christ."
For everyone looks out for his own interests, not those of Jesus Christ.
True.
In the midst of facing a huge decision, I still found myself seeking out my own interests, purposefully forgetting to hand over the decision to the One who knows what is best for Matt and me.
Change is such a hard thing to accept. I fight it. You fight it. We fight it. Change is inevitable and, yet, I forget how much good it brings. How even a simple change in the weather (like today) makes me appreciate the sunny days of yesterday or it allows me to appreciate a hot cup of chai that much more.
“This is what I’ve come to believe about change: it’s good, in the way that childbirth is good, and heartbreak is good, and failure is good. By that I mean that it’s incredibly painful, exponentially more so if you fight it, and also that it has the potential to open you up, to open life up, to deliver you right into the palm of God’s hand, which is where you wanted to be all along, except that you were too busy pushing and pulling your life into exactly what you thought it should be.”
~ Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet
Today is a reminder that I am not in control, but I can rest in the one who is. He is my home. He is my one constant in the midst of change. He knows best.
11.02.2010
Are My Feet Willing?
I'm going back to Ethiopia! I'm excited for so many reasons, but I'm most excited to see how God has brought it all together thus far and even more excited to see how he will continue to work and make things happen.
You want a little back story? Well, even if you said "no", get over it, because I said a "little"...I'm not going to share all the nitty gritty. (I'll save that for a later post).
I knew I had to go back to Africa. God told me. Oh, don't look at me like that (with that crazy look on your face). He started speaking to my heart about Africa years ago (see Post #1and I always prayed that if he wanted me to travel back then to never let the fire go out in my heart. So, the fire never went out...God spoke to me. :) See Post #1 to see how I felt in April of this year.
For months, I've researched, applied, interviewed, with countless organizations. But, mostly I've prayed. I prayed that God would give me a clear vision/goal of what he would want me to do and I kept coming back to clean water projects and unreached people and venture into places that are not appealing to most people.
In early April, my mom told me about her cousin (my second cousin), Tom and his wife Teresa Rieder, who have started their own project - Project Ethiopia and have committed to going to the Omo Region of Ethiopia and to live there for two years while working with the local church (Kale Heywet) of Southern Ethiopia. They are going there to work and minister and, ultimately, drill a well in Turmi, Ethiopia.
I was in contact with Tom for months while I was still applying with other organizations. Looking back, it seems so apparent that I should be traveling with Tom and Teresa, but it took me a while to get there. I just put my trust in God and continued to ask him for guidance. One night in particular, I was talking to Matty K about feeling pulled in a couple different directions (possible travel with the AIM - Africa Inland Mission or with Tom) and Matty put it bluntly, "Jen, I think the choice is obvious."
It was obvious. Matty K was right once again - thank you God for speaking some sense into me through Matty K! I emailed Tom and Teresa the next day. I was hoping that they would feel God leading them to accept me into their project just as much as I felt His hand guiding me. I received an email back from "T&T" (Tom and Teresa) and they accepted me with open arms.
Wow. I still can't get over how I got connected with a family member (whom I've never met face-to-face) who is passionate about clean water like I am and is taking "action" in a country that we both love. God keeps "wow-ing" me away with how much he provides in due time. There are so many more details to share about Project Ethiopia and how "T & T" have been blessed...how my sis-in-law, Lo, is joining. It's pretty cool "stuff".
Currently, I have plans to travel in March or April of 2011, but nothing set in stone (or even dirt) at this point since there are many other factors involved with the dates of travel. Lauren and I will be traveling for about 1 1/2-2 months and to assist T & T with Project Ethiopia since it will still be in its beginning phases.
But, for now, this is my 'phase 1' and I'll keep you updated on the different phases as they come.
"What if it's worth it? Can we afford to wait for things to become easy?
I don't know what to do with this. God is calling me to something, but is it something this hard?
I have these feet and they can go even if they are not experienced.
But the question I'm asking is this:
Are they willing?
Willing to walk some of the Earth's most beautiful and devastated lands?
Willing to stand side-by-side with those of my African brothers and sisters?
Willing to be trashed in the process and one day be called beautiful?
Are my feet willing to move against the fear?
I don't know what to do with this, but there's one thing I do know:
I can no longer just walk away..."
- AIM On-Field Media
Romans 10:15 "...How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!"
You want a little back story? Well, even if you said "no", get over it, because I said a "little"...I'm not going to share all the nitty gritty. (I'll save that for a later post).
I knew I had to go back to Africa. God told me. Oh, don't look at me like that (with that crazy look on your face). He started speaking to my heart about Africa years ago (see Post #1and I always prayed that if he wanted me to travel back then to never let the fire go out in my heart. So, the fire never went out...God spoke to me. :) See Post #1 to see how I felt in April of this year.
For months, I've researched, applied, interviewed, with countless organizations. But, mostly I've prayed. I prayed that God would give me a clear vision/goal of what he would want me to do and I kept coming back to clean water projects and unreached people and venture into places that are not appealing to most people.
In early April, my mom told me about her cousin (my second cousin), Tom and his wife Teresa Rieder, who have started their own project - Project Ethiopia and have committed to going to the Omo Region of Ethiopia and to live there for two years while working with the local church (Kale Heywet) of Southern Ethiopia. They are going there to work and minister and, ultimately, drill a well in Turmi, Ethiopia.
I was in contact with Tom for months while I was still applying with other organizations. Looking back, it seems so apparent that I should be traveling with Tom and Teresa, but it took me a while to get there. I just put my trust in God and continued to ask him for guidance. One night in particular, I was talking to Matty K about feeling pulled in a couple different directions (possible travel with the AIM - Africa Inland Mission or with Tom) and Matty put it bluntly, "Jen, I think the choice is obvious."
It was obvious. Matty K was right once again - thank you God for speaking some sense into me through Matty K! I emailed Tom and Teresa the next day. I was hoping that they would feel God leading them to accept me into their project just as much as I felt His hand guiding me. I received an email back from "T&T" (Tom and Teresa) and they accepted me with open arms.
Wow. I still can't get over how I got connected with a family member (whom I've never met face-to-face) who is passionate about clean water like I am and is taking "action" in a country that we both love. God keeps "wow-ing" me away with how much he provides in due time. There are so many more details to share about Project Ethiopia and how "T & T" have been blessed...how my sis-in-law, Lo, is joining. It's pretty cool "stuff".
Currently, I have plans to travel in March or April of 2011, but nothing set in stone (or even dirt) at this point since there are many other factors involved with the dates of travel. Lauren and I will be traveling for about 1 1/2-2 months and to assist T & T with Project Ethiopia since it will still be in its beginning phases.
But, for now, this is my 'phase 1' and I'll keep you updated on the different phases as they come.
Ambo, Ethiopia 2008
"What if it's worth it? Can we afford to wait for things to become easy?
I don't know what to do with this. God is calling me to something, but is it something this hard?
I have these feet and they can go even if they are not experienced.
But the question I'm asking is this:
Are they willing?
Willing to walk some of the Earth's most beautiful and devastated lands?
Willing to stand side-by-side with those of my African brothers and sisters?
Willing to be trashed in the process and one day be called beautiful?
Are my feet willing to move against the fear?
I don't know what to do with this, but there's one thing I do know:
I can no longer just walk away..."
- AIM On-Field Media
Romans 10:15 "...How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!"
10.23.2010
I Think I Can. I Know I Can.
Ok, well, in staying true to form, my buttermilk ranch dressing fell flat of my expectations. I didn't think I had too high of expectations, I mean, it's dressing. I would normally blame it on myself, but this time it is 100%, completely, entirely the recipe's fault. It was bland and boring. I even through in some cayenne and a bit more buttermilk and chives for good measure...nope...it was "blah".
Oh well...
I have cooked more in the past 8 months of being unemployed than I have in my entire life. I still give myself credit.
So, after a valiant effort that was met with much opposition, I surrendered by throwing my failed attempt in the trash and hitting the hay. (this means I didn't take any photos)
I awoke to a beautiful morning.
I. love. fall. mornings.
Wait, what is happening to me? I cook/mix ingredients together and throw them away and now I like fall?! I used to hate fall. Perhaps it was because I grew up in the midwest and fall = the beginning of winter...ugh. I don't mind snow, but after 5 months of seeing it every day one can grow tired of it quickly. However, living in warmer climates for the past few years my opinion has changed for fall (60-70 degrees instead of 110 degrees).
I went for a walk with Rider in the neighborhood with a cup of coffee...I wish I could have paused time right...here...
Alas, I can't pause time. *Sigh* But I sat down for my Saturday morning ritual of looking at my bookmarked blogs. Today seemed to focus on a food theme. (probably because I felt like a failure from the night before).
I found these two beauties and had to share:
Oh well...
I have cooked more in the past 8 months of being unemployed than I have in my entire life. I still give myself credit.
So, after a valiant effort that was met with much opposition, I surrendered by throwing my failed attempt in the trash and hitting the hay. (this means I didn't take any photos)
I awoke to a beautiful morning.
I. love. fall. mornings.
Wait, what is happening to me? I cook/mix ingredients together and throw them away and now I like fall?! I used to hate fall. Perhaps it was because I grew up in the midwest and fall = the beginning of winter...ugh. I don't mind snow, but after 5 months of seeing it every day one can grow tired of it quickly. However, living in warmer climates for the past few years my opinion has changed for fall (60-70 degrees instead of 110 degrees).
I went for a walk with Rider in the neighborhood with a cup of coffee...I wish I could have paused time right...here...
Alas, I can't pause time. *Sigh* But I sat down for my Saturday morning ritual of looking at my bookmarked blogs. Today seemed to focus on a food theme. (probably because I felt like a failure from the night before).
I found these two beauties and had to share:
Eggs make me think of Matty K. Recipe found here
This is an "Ode to Pumpkin" kind of day with pumpkin bars. Recipe found here
Oh. My. Goodness. These bars are delicious.
I made these bars this evening and I already took a bite of one before they were completely set and had cooled. Yum.yum...yummy.
Seriously, you need to make these bars. Not only did they boost my calorie intake and weight, they boosted my confidence. I can bake! (even if it is an overly easy recipe! - give a girl some props!)
Luke 12:19 "Take life easy; eat, drink and be merry."
Cheers to that! Happy Fall.
10.22.2010
Children and Parents
I received a phone call today from a friend. It was still early and I was in the kitchen getting ready to brew the morning cup o' joe when I heard my phone ring. I went to the bedroom and reached for the phone, but alas, the ringing had stopped. I pressed "call back" and I heard the news that I knew would be coming one day as my friend spoke on the other end. My friend's mother had passed away from her battle with cancer and she was wondering if I would watch her dogs as she traveled with her husband back home.
Of course I would watch her dogs is what I explained to her over my own tears.
I hung up the phone, but I couldn't let her leave Columbia and drive hours back to Kentucky without a hug. I poured the coffee into two thermoses and drove five minutes to their home, hoping that I would still be able to give her a hug and a warm cup of coffee for the road.
I made it to her house and I got to hug her.
Today has been "off" ever since. News of a loved one passing, or even of a friend's loved one passing, is enough to throw me off kilter, or maybe it's just the opposite, maybe it puts everything back in perspective. I didn't have the motivation I had to run some of the errands around town. I wanted to be home. I wanted to be around things that my mom provided for me growing up. I wanted her homemade cookies; not for their deliciousness, but for the smell - the smell of "home". I wanted to curl up on a couch and watch It's a Wonderful Life while eating popcorn. I wanted to watch her paint again like she did when I was little. I wanted to watch her paint for hours at the old wooden table covered in layers and colors of paint.
The truth is that it hurts that I can still go home and see my mom, but my friend can't.
Today, I thank God for Moms - Good or bad. Strong or Weak. Motherly or distant. They are our mothers and we are asked to honor our parents; our mothers.
In spirit of thanking my mom for always caring, in the spirit of simplicity, in the spirit of "homemade goodness", I have decided to make a buttermilk ranch dressing that I have been wanting to make, but too lazy since I have a jar in the fridge from a grocery's store shelf. Somehow, though, it's not like homemade cookies. I will leave those to be made for when my friend returns and she will need to be reminded of "home"...
Ephesians 6:1-3
Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right. Honor your father and mother - which is the first commandment with a promise - that it may go well with you and that you may enjoy long life on the earth.
To honor our parents is not only for their good, but God promises us that it is for our good. For our good and His glory...
Now on to making some delicious dressing - I'll make sure to post photos and the recipe. :)
Of course I would watch her dogs is what I explained to her over my own tears.
I hung up the phone, but I couldn't let her leave Columbia and drive hours back to Kentucky without a hug. I poured the coffee into two thermoses and drove five minutes to their home, hoping that I would still be able to give her a hug and a warm cup of coffee for the road.
I made it to her house and I got to hug her.
Today has been "off" ever since. News of a loved one passing, or even of a friend's loved one passing, is enough to throw me off kilter, or maybe it's just the opposite, maybe it puts everything back in perspective. I didn't have the motivation I had to run some of the errands around town. I wanted to be home. I wanted to be around things that my mom provided for me growing up. I wanted her homemade cookies; not for their deliciousness, but for the smell - the smell of "home". I wanted to curl up on a couch and watch It's a Wonderful Life while eating popcorn. I wanted to watch her paint again like she did when I was little. I wanted to watch her paint for hours at the old wooden table covered in layers and colors of paint.
The truth is that it hurts that I can still go home and see my mom, but my friend can't.
Today, I thank God for Moms - Good or bad. Strong or Weak. Motherly or distant. They are our mothers and we are asked to honor our parents; our mothers.
In spirit of thanking my mom for always caring, in the spirit of simplicity, in the spirit of "homemade goodness", I have decided to make a buttermilk ranch dressing that I have been wanting to make, but too lazy since I have a jar in the fridge from a grocery's store shelf. Somehow, though, it's not like homemade cookies. I will leave those to be made for when my friend returns and she will need to be reminded of "home"...
Ephesians 6:1-3
Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right. Honor your father and mother - which is the first commandment with a promise - that it may go well with you and that you may enjoy long life on the earth.
To honor our parents is not only for their good, but God promises us that it is for our good. For our good and His glory...
Now on to making some delicious dressing - I'll make sure to post photos and the recipe. :)
10.17.2010
Biggest Challenge
The day before the race, Matt said, "Jen, you're biggest challenge is going to be staying positive during the race."
A true statement and I am thankful for his honesty. Not only did I need to hear it to run better, but it was a reminder of staying positive in my own life in general.
I had read from Hebrews 12 a few days before the race and I was intrigued and pulled toward verses 1-13. The author portrays the Christian life as a long-distance race rather than a short sprint. The author is encouraging the Hebrew Christians (who were tempted to drop out of the "race" because of persecution) to concentrate on the finish line. The finish line, of course, also being Jesus. The author then goes on about enduring hardship as a discipline. Just as training is vital to running, God's discipline serves as a basis for encoragement and perseverance in our walk with Him.
Discpline is such a hard thing to accept whether it be in training for a marathon or discplining ourselves in submitting to the Father. When I registered for the marathon in April and entered into my training for the marathon, I was able to realize how much the training was going to parallel my personal growth as a Christian.
The past few months have been a time of controlling my "thoughts". Sounds a bit cooky, but you all have experienced it. Whether it be staying positive while working out and you say "just one more push up" or "just one more mile" or staying positive at work and you tell yourself "only a few more hours of work" or when you wake up in the morning and as you step out of bed you tell yourself "today is going to be a good day." Not only have I had to learn and train myself to be positive while running, but to be positive about *everything*; to do everything in a spirit of love which ultimately changes my thoughts from discouraing to encouraging.
So, when I heard Matt say, "Jen, your biggest challenge is going to be staying positive during the race" I knew I was going to have to discipline my thoughts before and during the race to stay positive to reach the finish line.
The morning of 10-10-10, I woke up feeling rested and peaceful; anxious but at peace (finally) that all was going to go well. I wasn't thinking about the finish line, I was only focused now on the start. In fact, as I prayed that morning for the race to go well I heard the small voice inside say, "the race has already begun." So true; my race had begun months before with the countless miles of training and beyond that, just like in Hebrews 12, the "race" is only a metaphor for our walk with God.
I had a quick breakfast of yogurt, toast and peanut butter, and coffee. I popped a few ibuprofen to help with the swelling in my left knee that had been giving me trouble for the past few months and then I walked out the door.
At 5:30am Matt and I got ino his friend's car and drove toward downtown. She dropped us off a few blocks from Grant Park and the start line. It was still dark outside and the temperature was about 65 degrees. Matt asked how I was feeling and I said nothing more than a simple, "Good. Excited." I didn't need to include the "nervous" because it was already a given. I dropped off my sweat bag with bib #16169 attached and got lost in the mass confusion of where the start truly "started". The corrals spanned over three blocks and there were people everywhere. I kissed Matt goodbye as I neared the corrals and he wished me good luck with a smile and walked away in the opposite direction. I was alone - even in the midst of more than 45,000 people. I had looked down at my watch which read "6:48 am". I had to meet with my pace group at 7:00 am in the open corral. I decided that I had just enough time to do a warm-up jog. The warmup turned into a joke. I spent more time slowing down and going around people than actually running. I had enough of that after seven minutes and decided to do some quick drills in an open spot on the grass. My nerves finally got the best of me and at 7:00am on the dot, I made my way to the entrance of the open corral and walked (actually pushed and excused my way through a crowd) toward my pace group with the big blue sign imprinted with the numbers 4:30
I stood between a group of loud and obnoxious guys who all wore the same color singlet and shorts and who were running for a charity, but I don't recall which one. A girl about my age stood in front of me. She had on a bright yellow tank top and was quiet and kept her eyes fixated ahead at all times. To the right of me stood two Canadian women who wore their hair in ponytails pulled back with a red and white maple leaf printed ribbon. Lake Michigan was to the right and the sun was just beginning to come over the buildings. The minutes were slowly ticking by and I hadn't brought my ipod to drown out any noise. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the runners quieted as a gentleman sang the Star Spangled Banner. Four minutes later, at 7:30 am on the dot, the gun sounded and the race had begun. Well, not exactly for me, I was in the open corral and I walked sixteen minutes before I heard my d-tag sensor go off as I crossed the start pad and I pressed the little button on my watch to time my 26.2 miles.
U2's Beautiful Day could still be heard blaring from the loudspeakers that were set up at the start of the race as I set myself 50 feet in front of the 4:30 pace group. The song was quickly drowned out by the sounds coming from the crowd. I have never seen so many people cheering on runners. As I made my way under a bridge and into a tunnel I looked up and there were people packed side-by-side standing on the bridge looking down and yelling out to friends and family. I placed myself on the right side of the road since I had agreed to be on the right for easier spotting for Matt and my parents who were there for support. I looked back periodically to maintain visual of my pace group to ensure I wasn't going out too fast and attempted to get comfy and to remember to relax my shoulders and arms.
I quickly came upon mile 2 and tried to span the crowd for my parents who were to be waiting there. The only thing I seemed to make out was a large styrofoam hand engraved in permanent maker with "High 5". It was attached to a long stick and was held by a bigger guy with sunglasses who was yelling "yeah" as loud as he possibly could as we passed.
Mile 2 passed by as quickly as it had appeared with no sign of my parents, but just knowing that they were "out there" was encouragement enough. I could see a water station ahead and remembered Matt telling me to drink at every station. I had decided before the race that I would alternate between water and gatorade at each station which was placed every 1.5 miles-2 miles along the length of the course. I heard the volunteers yelling gatorade (For those who enjoy Water Boy, "Water sucks! It really, really sucks! Gattoooorraaaaaade") and got a good laugh not only from thinking of the scene from Water Boy, but because I basically splashed it all over my face as I attempted to run around the mass of people around me. This become a real frustration for the next 24 miles - running around this many people proved to be an energy and time waster.
A little more distance into mile 2 I heard a familiar voice call out my name and as I looked to my right, there was Matt. Matt was decked out in a brand new (and quite serious) North Face hydration pack. Matt attempted to keep up with me as he dodged the hundreds of people that stood along the sidewalk. I remember he asked how I was feeling and I stated, "good." This was the first sighting in many that I would have of Matt over the next few hours. Each sighting of Matt gave me more energy to keep moving forward and he was constantly encouraging me or asking me if I needed a gel.
I truly couldn't get over the massive amount of spectators. The next 3 miles were spent getting comfy and into a rhythm and I enjoyed watching the spectators; reading their poster boards; listening to the music blaring from balconys; and watching a few girls dance a jig to the tunes of a bagpiper. The sun was still tucked behind the buildings, but I began to wonder when the sun would finally emerge and begin to beat down its sunny fiery.
I quickly made a right-hand turn and found myself elbowing my way through the mass of runners. Without restraint, I yelled firmly "stay in your lanes around the turns" and realized that (even though I was surrounded by runners) most of them had no knowledge of runner's etiquette. The negativity had crept in, I had let myself get irritated on that turn and could hear Matt telling me "Jen, stay positive."
It wasn't hard to stay positive, the energy from the spectators, the music, the cheers, the adrenaline powered me forward and at mile 5, as I crossed the mat, I looked down at my tattoo on my arm with the target times for each mile and compared it to my watch and I was 20 seconds ahead of my goal. I glanced over my left shoulder and I couldn't see the 4:30 pace group any longer. Matt was quickly on the side lines jogging along with me and asked me my time. He encouraged me to "keep it up" and to pick up the pace around mile 8. However, shortly thereafter, I had a real need to use the restroom.
Ugh, the restroom break - a time waster...a time killer. I was still ahead of the pace group and felt strong. In fact, I was running much slower than any of my training runs where I kept a 9:15-9:30 pace. I couldn't afford to stop, but my body was telling me otherwise. After passing 15k, I saw the pora-pottys lined up and knew I had to stop. Matt was right there waiting for me and as soon as I returned from my break, he told me the 4:30 pace group was 1 minute ahead. Yikes, I lost about 2 minutes and now I had to gain it back.
I joined the "pack" and attempted to settle into a rhythm once again. The sun was now beating down on all of us with no shade offered for the next few miles. I could make out the pace group sign ahead and I knew I could "catch" them in about 2 miles. And I did just that. I had caught up with them by mile 12 right before we crossed the bridge that would bring us over the highway and begin to direct us west of the city.
Mile 12 marked another destination where my parents were going to try and spot me. I placed myself on the right side of the road, but encountered much resistance with slower runners. I enjoyed the fact that they were slower than me. They were slower than *me*. Wow! One year prior I wasn't running more than 2-3 miles every other week (if that) and, needless to say, felt awful even when attempting a small jog. I found myself having a blast while running the course. I even chalked it up with one of the pacers and he told me what he was craving for breakfast. I left him shortly thereafter and told him it was because he was making my mouth water, but really it was because I wanted to stay ahead of the pace group.
The halfway point came and went and I knew I had to run under 4:30 in order to have negative splits. At the rate I was running (and feeling), I felt like it wouldn't be a problem. I placed myself only a few feet in front of the pace group and for about one mile there were only a few spectators so I got to enjoy the pitter-patter of hundereds of runners shoes hit the pavement. I passed a runner with Psalm 73:26 written on the back of her shirt which gave me encouragement:
"My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever."
I prayed for God to continue to strengthen me in order to finish the race and for my knee to be strong. It had started to ache at mile 5, but I decided to pay it no attention and to lean on the many prayers that were said for me that day.
We began to make our way through the many eccletic neighborhoods that make up this great city of Chicago. Each neighborhood had volunteers that were just as fast, efficient, and friendly as the one prior. Each water station was either "gatooorraaaaaade" or water and I found myself pouring more of it all over myself than I was getting in my mouth. I approached mile 17 and Matt was there on the corner yelling my name. I recall him taking out his camera and trying to snap a photo. I felt great and he could tell. I saw him run ahead of me on the sidewalk and I looked forward to seeing him along the course in the near future.
30k was ahead and I still was hanging with the 4:30 pace group. I couldn't seem to get past them. As soon as I would hit a water station, I would have to slow down to get a tasty beverage of choice and they kept running with someone bringing water *out* to them. I had to chase them down every 2 miles and it was beginning to drain me. I passed Matt at mile 20 and he ran up beside me and asked me how it felt to know that this was the furthest I had ever run. I could only muster a smile, because I was beginning to feel it. I was concerned that most of my energy was spent running around people and slowing down at water stations and then chasing down the 4:30 pace group once more. I decided at that point to run the rest of the race trying to stay with the 4:30 pace group.
Matt had told me to watch for my parents at mile 22, and when mile 22 came and went without any sign of them, I knew that I was going to be on my own for the next 4 miles. Yikes...4 miles. My mind was beginning to go down the road of making the next 4 miles seem like an eternity. I told myself that I only had a mile or so until I got to 23. Once I got to 23, I would tell myself I just had to make it it 24 and so on and so forth.
I pulled out the Accel gel that Matt had handed me and I had tucked into my shorts at mile 17. I am always reluctant to take gels since they give me heartburn, but I felt like I had kept myself well hydrated and ripped open the top and had about half before tucking it back into my shorts. I could see a guy holding a hose ahead on the course and I knew that I needed to place myself on the left-hand side of the road to ensure that I got to feel its sweet relief that it would offer. I held up my arms as I went through the water, but was quickly eating water as he aimed the water stream at my face. Ha! I smiled as I caught my breath realizing that if he had done that on purpose, well, then, that's just plain rude, but also hilarious at the same time.
"Just get to mile 23 and stay with the 4:30 pace group....just get to mile 23 and stay with the 4:30 pace group." I told myself this over and over as the temperature began to rise and I could see the signs (the event alert system signs indicating the status of the course conditions based on weather) at each water station move from "low" to "high". Each mile seemed to bring more and more people to exhaustion and I seemed to be passing more people walking than running. I got nervous as I passed people with 3:45 pace group signs on their back and I knew I didn't want to be one of "those people" with a 4:30 pinned to my back and finishing in 5:30.
I needed some positive energy. I needed water. I needed to be done. Matt must have read my thoughts because as soon as I passed mile 24 he was running beside me where he told me that I looked really tense. I lowered my shoulders and unclenched my fists. It was the first time that I told him I was tired. He said he would see me at the finish line and that is when I knew had done it. I was going to finish this thing! Mile 24 brought on many spectators since it was where Niketown had placed themselves playing "power songs" to encourage the runners. The announcer was shouting out encouragement and he said "Let's go runners. Only 2 miles left to go." By this point we were about 24.5 miles into the race and so mentally I had already told myself that I had *less than* 2 miles to run. I couldn't let him get away with this so I shouted out, "Less than 2 miles!" I got a few chuckles from one of the pacers behind me. She had been encouraging me for the past 6 miles and she told me to relax and to push it. My bib # was 16169, but she referred to me as "169." She said, "Dig in, 169. You can do it! Dig in, otherwise you'll regret it. Come on, you're strong. Run!"
I left the pace group and set my goal on mile 25. I passed walkers and runners. I was tired and found myself encouraged and motivated while I was motivating others. I continued to pat the backs of those who were walking and said to "keep it up". I had to do it for myself. I had to keep my mind off the fact that I was tired. I had to keep my mind off my aching knee. I had to stay positive.
A woman ahead of me had a 4:30 on her back and I looked at her as my next target for the next 1.5 miles. I couldn't let her beat me. I could see the large screen showing the finish line about a mile ahead, but I knew it was only an illusion. The finish line wasn't that screen. I had taken a "virtual tour" of the course and I knew at 800 meters we would take a sharp right turn and then run *up a hill* and then a sharp left and the finish would be 300 meters from there.
So I dug in. I focused my gaze on the woman with the 4:30 on her back and I looked for the 800m mark. It came later than I had wanted it to, but I made the sharp right turn and focused on the hill ahead. The crowd was massive. The spectators were yelling but I couldn't hear anything. The hill made my calfs burn and my lungs were on fire. We hit the 400m mark and then made the sharp left turn and there it was...A beautiful sign that read F-I-N-I-S-H. I looked down at my watch and it said 4:28:30. I wanted to try to get in under 4:29, but in reality I didn't care nor did I care about the woman with the 4:30 on her back and beating her. I just began to sprint. It wasn't even close to a sprint, but it felt like I was running with everything I had. I heard my name over the loudspeaker and "Columbia, SC".
I raised my hands and my feet hit the mat.
Tears came to my eyes and I kept thinking over and over, "I can't believe I did it."
I desperately wanted Matt to greet me and embrace me in that moment. Instead I had to look down and put my hands on my hips and keep moving forward.
I thanked God over and over for the ability to run, to walk, to have the victory to overcome such negative thoughts in order to run each and every mile between training and the race.
I snatched two bananas, two sandwiches, two waters, cookies, pretzels, crackers and a bag of ice for my (already swollen) knee and made my way to the runner reunite area. 50 minutes after crossing the finish line and a 1 mile walk later, I was greeted by Matt, friends, and my dad (who even brought me flowers). Unfortunately, my mom was stuck at the finish and was so dehydrated herself that we had to meet up with her.
Matt's simple reminder to stay positive meant more than he will ever know. Not only because of the encouragement it brought me while running, but how much more it reminds me to stay positive while not running - while living this life. It's so easy to complain. It's so easy to not like our circumstances. However, we choose our destination. We choose our paths. If we don't like the path we are on; if we don't like our current life's circumstances, well then change direction. You will need to discipline yourself to get where you want to go - the biggest challenge won't be crossing the finish line, it will be staying positive while you're running the race.
"We don't drift in good directions. We discpline and prioritize ourselves there." - Andy Stanley
A true statement and I am thankful for his honesty. Not only did I need to hear it to run better, but it was a reminder of staying positive in my own life in general.
I had read from Hebrews 12 a few days before the race and I was intrigued and pulled toward verses 1-13. The author portrays the Christian life as a long-distance race rather than a short sprint. The author is encouraging the Hebrew Christians (who were tempted to drop out of the "race" because of persecution) to concentrate on the finish line. The finish line, of course, also being Jesus. The author then goes on about enduring hardship as a discipline. Just as training is vital to running, God's discipline serves as a basis for encoragement and perseverance in our walk with Him.
Discpline is such a hard thing to accept whether it be in training for a marathon or discplining ourselves in submitting to the Father. When I registered for the marathon in April and entered into my training for the marathon, I was able to realize how much the training was going to parallel my personal growth as a Christian.
The past few months have been a time of controlling my "thoughts". Sounds a bit cooky, but you all have experienced it. Whether it be staying positive while working out and you say "just one more push up" or "just one more mile" or staying positive at work and you tell yourself "only a few more hours of work" or when you wake up in the morning and as you step out of bed you tell yourself "today is going to be a good day." Not only have I had to learn and train myself to be positive while running, but to be positive about *everything*; to do everything in a spirit of love which ultimately changes my thoughts from discouraing to encouraging.
So, when I heard Matt say, "Jen, your biggest challenge is going to be staying positive during the race" I knew I was going to have to discipline my thoughts before and during the race to stay positive to reach the finish line.
The morning of 10-10-10, I woke up feeling rested and peaceful; anxious but at peace (finally) that all was going to go well. I wasn't thinking about the finish line, I was only focused now on the start. In fact, as I prayed that morning for the race to go well I heard the small voice inside say, "the race has already begun." So true; my race had begun months before with the countless miles of training and beyond that, just like in Hebrews 12, the "race" is only a metaphor for our walk with God.
I had a quick breakfast of yogurt, toast and peanut butter, and coffee. I popped a few ibuprofen to help with the swelling in my left knee that had been giving me trouble for the past few months and then I walked out the door.
At 5:30am Matt and I got ino his friend's car and drove toward downtown. She dropped us off a few blocks from Grant Park and the start line. It was still dark outside and the temperature was about 65 degrees. Matt asked how I was feeling and I said nothing more than a simple, "Good. Excited." I didn't need to include the "nervous" because it was already a given. I dropped off my sweat bag with bib #16169 attached and got lost in the mass confusion of where the start truly "started". The corrals spanned over three blocks and there were people everywhere. I kissed Matt goodbye as I neared the corrals and he wished me good luck with a smile and walked away in the opposite direction. I was alone - even in the midst of more than 45,000 people. I had looked down at my watch which read "6:48 am". I had to meet with my pace group at 7:00 am in the open corral. I decided that I had just enough time to do a warm-up jog. The warmup turned into a joke. I spent more time slowing down and going around people than actually running. I had enough of that after seven minutes and decided to do some quick drills in an open spot on the grass. My nerves finally got the best of me and at 7:00am on the dot, I made my way to the entrance of the open corral and walked (actually pushed and excused my way through a crowd) toward my pace group with the big blue sign imprinted with the numbers 4:30
I stood between a group of loud and obnoxious guys who all wore the same color singlet and shorts and who were running for a charity, but I don't recall which one. A girl about my age stood in front of me. She had on a bright yellow tank top and was quiet and kept her eyes fixated ahead at all times. To the right of me stood two Canadian women who wore their hair in ponytails pulled back with a red and white maple leaf printed ribbon. Lake Michigan was to the right and the sun was just beginning to come over the buildings. The minutes were slowly ticking by and I hadn't brought my ipod to drown out any noise. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the runners quieted as a gentleman sang the Star Spangled Banner. Four minutes later, at 7:30 am on the dot, the gun sounded and the race had begun. Well, not exactly for me, I was in the open corral and I walked sixteen minutes before I heard my d-tag sensor go off as I crossed the start pad and I pressed the little button on my watch to time my 26.2 miles.
U2's Beautiful Day could still be heard blaring from the loudspeakers that were set up at the start of the race as I set myself 50 feet in front of the 4:30 pace group. The song was quickly drowned out by the sounds coming from the crowd. I have never seen so many people cheering on runners. As I made my way under a bridge and into a tunnel I looked up and there were people packed side-by-side standing on the bridge looking down and yelling out to friends and family. I placed myself on the right side of the road since I had agreed to be on the right for easier spotting for Matt and my parents who were there for support. I looked back periodically to maintain visual of my pace group to ensure I wasn't going out too fast and attempted to get comfy and to remember to relax my shoulders and arms.
I quickly came upon mile 2 and tried to span the crowd for my parents who were to be waiting there. The only thing I seemed to make out was a large styrofoam hand engraved in permanent maker with "High 5". It was attached to a long stick and was held by a bigger guy with sunglasses who was yelling "yeah" as loud as he possibly could as we passed.
Mile 2 passed by as quickly as it had appeared with no sign of my parents, but just knowing that they were "out there" was encouragement enough. I could see a water station ahead and remembered Matt telling me to drink at every station. I had decided before the race that I would alternate between water and gatorade at each station which was placed every 1.5 miles-2 miles along the length of the course. I heard the volunteers yelling gatorade (For those who enjoy Water Boy, "Water sucks! It really, really sucks! Gattoooorraaaaaade") and got a good laugh not only from thinking of the scene from Water Boy, but because I basically splashed it all over my face as I attempted to run around the mass of people around me. This become a real frustration for the next 24 miles - running around this many people proved to be an energy and time waster.
A little more distance into mile 2 I heard a familiar voice call out my name and as I looked to my right, there was Matt. Matt was decked out in a brand new (and quite serious) North Face hydration pack. Matt attempted to keep up with me as he dodged the hundreds of people that stood along the sidewalk. I remember he asked how I was feeling and I stated, "good." This was the first sighting in many that I would have of Matt over the next few hours. Each sighting of Matt gave me more energy to keep moving forward and he was constantly encouraging me or asking me if I needed a gel.
I truly couldn't get over the massive amount of spectators. The next 3 miles were spent getting comfy and into a rhythm and I enjoyed watching the spectators; reading their poster boards; listening to the music blaring from balconys; and watching a few girls dance a jig to the tunes of a bagpiper. The sun was still tucked behind the buildings, but I began to wonder when the sun would finally emerge and begin to beat down its sunny fiery.
I quickly made a right-hand turn and found myself elbowing my way through the mass of runners. Without restraint, I yelled firmly "stay in your lanes around the turns" and realized that (even though I was surrounded by runners) most of them had no knowledge of runner's etiquette. The negativity had crept in, I had let myself get irritated on that turn and could hear Matt telling me "Jen, stay positive."
It wasn't hard to stay positive, the energy from the spectators, the music, the cheers, the adrenaline powered me forward and at mile 5, as I crossed the mat, I looked down at my tattoo on my arm with the target times for each mile and compared it to my watch and I was 20 seconds ahead of my goal. I glanced over my left shoulder and I couldn't see the 4:30 pace group any longer. Matt was quickly on the side lines jogging along with me and asked me my time. He encouraged me to "keep it up" and to pick up the pace around mile 8. However, shortly thereafter, I had a real need to use the restroom.
Ugh, the restroom break - a time waster...a time killer. I was still ahead of the pace group and felt strong. In fact, I was running much slower than any of my training runs where I kept a 9:15-9:30 pace. I couldn't afford to stop, but my body was telling me otherwise. After passing 15k, I saw the pora-pottys lined up and knew I had to stop. Matt was right there waiting for me and as soon as I returned from my break, he told me the 4:30 pace group was 1 minute ahead. Yikes, I lost about 2 minutes and now I had to gain it back.
I joined the "pack" and attempted to settle into a rhythm once again. The sun was now beating down on all of us with no shade offered for the next few miles. I could make out the pace group sign ahead and I knew I could "catch" them in about 2 miles. And I did just that. I had caught up with them by mile 12 right before we crossed the bridge that would bring us over the highway and begin to direct us west of the city.
Mile 12 marked another destination where my parents were going to try and spot me. I placed myself on the right side of the road, but encountered much resistance with slower runners. I enjoyed the fact that they were slower than me. They were slower than *me*. Wow! One year prior I wasn't running more than 2-3 miles every other week (if that) and, needless to say, felt awful even when attempting a small jog. I found myself having a blast while running the course. I even chalked it up with one of the pacers and he told me what he was craving for breakfast. I left him shortly thereafter and told him it was because he was making my mouth water, but really it was because I wanted to stay ahead of the pace group.
The halfway point came and went and I knew I had to run under 4:30 in order to have negative splits. At the rate I was running (and feeling), I felt like it wouldn't be a problem. I placed myself only a few feet in front of the pace group and for about one mile there were only a few spectators so I got to enjoy the pitter-patter of hundereds of runners shoes hit the pavement. I passed a runner with Psalm 73:26 written on the back of her shirt which gave me encouragement:
"My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever."
I prayed for God to continue to strengthen me in order to finish the race and for my knee to be strong. It had started to ache at mile 5, but I decided to pay it no attention and to lean on the many prayers that were said for me that day.
We began to make our way through the many eccletic neighborhoods that make up this great city of Chicago. Each neighborhood had volunteers that were just as fast, efficient, and friendly as the one prior. Each water station was either "gatooorraaaaaade" or water and I found myself pouring more of it all over myself than I was getting in my mouth. I approached mile 17 and Matt was there on the corner yelling my name. I recall him taking out his camera and trying to snap a photo. I felt great and he could tell. I saw him run ahead of me on the sidewalk and I looked forward to seeing him along the course in the near future.
30k was ahead and I still was hanging with the 4:30 pace group. I couldn't seem to get past them. As soon as I would hit a water station, I would have to slow down to get a tasty beverage of choice and they kept running with someone bringing water *out* to them. I had to chase them down every 2 miles and it was beginning to drain me. I passed Matt at mile 20 and he ran up beside me and asked me how it felt to know that this was the furthest I had ever run. I could only muster a smile, because I was beginning to feel it. I was concerned that most of my energy was spent running around people and slowing down at water stations and then chasing down the 4:30 pace group once more. I decided at that point to run the rest of the race trying to stay with the 4:30 pace group.
Matt had told me to watch for my parents at mile 22, and when mile 22 came and went without any sign of them, I knew that I was going to be on my own for the next 4 miles. Yikes...4 miles. My mind was beginning to go down the road of making the next 4 miles seem like an eternity. I told myself that I only had a mile or so until I got to 23. Once I got to 23, I would tell myself I just had to make it it 24 and so on and so forth.
I pulled out the Accel gel that Matt had handed me and I had tucked into my shorts at mile 17. I am always reluctant to take gels since they give me heartburn, but I felt like I had kept myself well hydrated and ripped open the top and had about half before tucking it back into my shorts. I could see a guy holding a hose ahead on the course and I knew that I needed to place myself on the left-hand side of the road to ensure that I got to feel its sweet relief that it would offer. I held up my arms as I went through the water, but was quickly eating water as he aimed the water stream at my face. Ha! I smiled as I caught my breath realizing that if he had done that on purpose, well, then, that's just plain rude, but also hilarious at the same time.
"Just get to mile 23 and stay with the 4:30 pace group....just get to mile 23 and stay with the 4:30 pace group." I told myself this over and over as the temperature began to rise and I could see the signs (the event alert system signs indicating the status of the course conditions based on weather) at each water station move from "low" to "high". Each mile seemed to bring more and more people to exhaustion and I seemed to be passing more people walking than running. I got nervous as I passed people with 3:45 pace group signs on their back and I knew I didn't want to be one of "those people" with a 4:30 pinned to my back and finishing in 5:30.
I needed some positive energy. I needed water. I needed to be done. Matt must have read my thoughts because as soon as I passed mile 24 he was running beside me where he told me that I looked really tense. I lowered my shoulders and unclenched my fists. It was the first time that I told him I was tired. He said he would see me at the finish line and that is when I knew had done it. I was going to finish this thing! Mile 24 brought on many spectators since it was where Niketown had placed themselves playing "power songs" to encourage the runners. The announcer was shouting out encouragement and he said "Let's go runners. Only 2 miles left to go." By this point we were about 24.5 miles into the race and so mentally I had already told myself that I had *less than* 2 miles to run. I couldn't let him get away with this so I shouted out, "Less than 2 miles!" I got a few chuckles from one of the pacers behind me. She had been encouraging me for the past 6 miles and she told me to relax and to push it. My bib # was 16169, but she referred to me as "169." She said, "Dig in, 169. You can do it! Dig in, otherwise you'll regret it. Come on, you're strong. Run!"
I left the pace group and set my goal on mile 25. I passed walkers and runners. I was tired and found myself encouraged and motivated while I was motivating others. I continued to pat the backs of those who were walking and said to "keep it up". I had to do it for myself. I had to keep my mind off the fact that I was tired. I had to keep my mind off my aching knee. I had to stay positive.
A woman ahead of me had a 4:30 on her back and I looked at her as my next target for the next 1.5 miles. I couldn't let her beat me. I could see the large screen showing the finish line about a mile ahead, but I knew it was only an illusion. The finish line wasn't that screen. I had taken a "virtual tour" of the course and I knew at 800 meters we would take a sharp right turn and then run *up a hill* and then a sharp left and the finish would be 300 meters from there.
So I dug in. I focused my gaze on the woman with the 4:30 on her back and I looked for the 800m mark. It came later than I had wanted it to, but I made the sharp right turn and focused on the hill ahead. The crowd was massive. The spectators were yelling but I couldn't hear anything. The hill made my calfs burn and my lungs were on fire. We hit the 400m mark and then made the sharp left turn and there it was...A beautiful sign that read F-I-N-I-S-H. I looked down at my watch and it said 4:28:30. I wanted to try to get in under 4:29, but in reality I didn't care nor did I care about the woman with the 4:30 on her back and beating her. I just began to sprint. It wasn't even close to a sprint, but it felt like I was running with everything I had. I heard my name over the loudspeaker and "Columbia, SC".
I raised my hands and my feet hit the mat.
Tears came to my eyes and I kept thinking over and over, "I can't believe I did it."
I desperately wanted Matt to greet me and embrace me in that moment. Instead I had to look down and put my hands on my hips and keep moving forward.
I thanked God over and over for the ability to run, to walk, to have the victory to overcome such negative thoughts in order to run each and every mile between training and the race.
I snatched two bananas, two sandwiches, two waters, cookies, pretzels, crackers and a bag of ice for my (already swollen) knee and made my way to the runner reunite area. 50 minutes after crossing the finish line and a 1 mile walk later, I was greeted by Matt, friends, and my dad (who even brought me flowers). Unfortunately, my mom was stuck at the finish and was so dehydrated herself that we had to meet up with her.
Matt's simple reminder to stay positive meant more than he will ever know. Not only because of the encouragement it brought me while running, but how much more it reminds me to stay positive while not running - while living this life. It's so easy to complain. It's so easy to not like our circumstances. However, we choose our destination. We choose our paths. If we don't like the path we are on; if we don't like our current life's circumstances, well then change direction. You will need to discipline yourself to get where you want to go - the biggest challenge won't be crossing the finish line, it will be staying positive while you're running the race.
"We don't drift in good directions. We discpline and prioritize ourselves there." - Andy Stanley
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