Tag Archives: change

Just Like That

This is how my day started.

I was on my way to work this morning and I rounded a curve and this is what I saw on the side of the road. Myself and one other person coming the opposite direction were the first (and only) people to arrive and stop. Both of us pulled over and got out of our vehicles and started jogging to the scene. I could see the look on his face and assumed it probably mirrored mine. We both thought that we were the first ones to arrive at a fatality.

But thank God, we were wrong.

I saw movement in the front seat and got down to look in what was left of the passenger side window. She was shaken, but she was alive. And not only was she alive – but she was just fine. Really.

Just fine.

She was just stuck. So, working together, the man and I were able to get the back door open and crawl in to get her free from the seatbelt and help her crawl out. Once she was out, we called for help. After realizing that she was a little unsteady on her feet, we brought her back to my car and put her in the passenger seat. With her there, myself in the driver’s seat, and the other man kneeling on the ground at the passenger side, three strangers spent the next 45 minutes together.

Soon, that number rose to four. The next to arrive was an elderly man who was a retired local volunteer EMT. He didn’t have any equipment with him (he was just called because he was close by) so he proceeded to climb in the back seat and just hold the woman’s head with his hands to keep her stable. He did that for about 15 minutes before more help arrived. All in all, we were there close to an hour.

But it’s those first 30 minutes that I’m going to remember for a while.

Without knowing each other at all, we all sat in the car and just talked. We exchanged stories about who we were, why were driving on this road at this particular time, what kind of jobs we had (a nurse, a preacher, a retired EMT, and a paralegal), our kids, our marriages – or lack thereof, etc.

We just sat there and chatted. And at one point, I looked down and realized that this woman had been holding my hand the entire time and I wasn’t even aware. I held a stranger’s hand for 30 minutes. I can assure you that when I woke up this morning, if someone would have asked me to make a list of things I would be doing today, that sure wouldn’t have been on it.

So there we were. Just four strangers chatting in my car after having just witnessed a miracle. Yes, a miracle. And you can’t tell me otherwise.

She was fine!

Now, did you see that picture? Really? Did you look at it? And I was there. I saw that car. I just knew without a shadow of a doubt that the person inside the vehicle would not have made it. I was astonished that all she had was a pretty nasty bump on her head. That’s it.

I don’t even know why I’m blogging about this really. I’m not sure exactly what I wanted to take from this situation, but sitting here still shook up almost 5 hours later, I know that this interaction today meant something to me.

There’s a video that I remember to watch periodically. It’s the song Hello World by Lady Antebellum. The song is about rolling through life with burdens on your mind, and then something happening – some unplanned event – that makes you stop in your tracks and look around. The video (which I posted at the end of the blog) makes that ‘unplanned event’ a car accident. This man sees this, sees the humanity that surrounds the event, and realizes things just might not be that bad after all. In other words, he wakes up.

Maybe that’s what happened there this morning? Maybe I started to wake up?

This woman was about one minute ahead of me on this road. That could have been me. It could have been anyone. It could have been you. And it could have ended so so differently. Everything could change. Just like that.

You know? Just like that.

Maybe it’s time to wake up?

***

“Hello world, how you been?
Good to see you, my old friend
Sometimes I feel as cold as steel
Broken like I’m never gonna heal
Then I see a light,
a little grace,
a little faith unfurl
Hello world”
– Lady Antebellum, “Hello World” lyrics

Video: http://youtu.be/al2DFQEZl4M

Posted by Melissa Edmondson. Categories: Freestyle Writings/Musings. Tags: accident, blog, change, changed, friendship, heartbreak, inspiration, inspirational, loss, love, motivation, motivational, Quotes, strangers, writing. 3 Comments

Mar. ’13

Favorite Race (so far)

This is a picture I took at the Shamrock 4-miler, a St. Patrick’s Day theme race my son and I ran in Abingdon, Virginia, last night, March 15, 2013.

Now, granted, after every race I do, I seem to think that it was my favorite race. And this was no exception. But I have a feeling that this one may remain my favorite for a while. And I’ve decided to list the top 10 reasons why.

*** 10. The St. Patrick’s Day theme.
This was the first race I’d ever been a part of that had a theme. And themes are awesome. The atmosphere was completely different…everyone was in such happy spirits and seemed to be just a tad friendlier and a little more chatty than in other races. I’ll definitely be searching for theme races in the future.

*** 9. The cowbell.
Oh yes. There was a cowbell. About a half a mile in, there was a random guy standing on the side of the road with a cowbell. And, of course, the guy who was running beside me yelled, “Hey – we’re gonna need more cowbell!” as we passed. Teehee. That made me laugh all the way up the hill we had to climb right after we passed the cowbell man. I needed that.

*** 8. A pooping dog.
Yes, you read that right. A pooping dog made the top 10 list. And here’s why. One of the runners decided to run in the race with her dog. Around the 1.5 mile mark, nature called. She was standing, embarrassed, on the side of the road letting him do his business while other runners passed. Eventually, runners started high-fiving her as they passed. That was pretty awesome. Lots of laughter came from that. And laughter during a race is always awesome. So, thank you pooping dog for your contribution to my list.

*** 7. This guy:

Yeah. Meeting that guy definitely made the list. Duh.

*** 6. Being passed (yes, passed) by a man running the race while pushing his TWO kids in a stroller.
While going up a hill. Yes, I know. How did that make the list of reasons why this was my favorite race? Well, just because. People are awesome. That’s all.

*** 5. Remembering to thank the people at the water stations.
I always forget to do that. Always. This time, I remembered. There were three separate water stations and I remembered at every single station. I finally forgot my own misery during a race and just remembered that there are awesome volunteers sitting out there for long periods of time just making sure that we have the best race we can. And how cool are they? They deserve more than a simple “thank you,” but that was all I had to give at the moment. I hope hearing me say it made them feel as good as it made me feel to remember to say it.

*** 4. My time.
My MapMyRun tracking device told me that I ran 4.08 miles in just over 40 minutes. That’s less than a 10-minute pace. Best I’ve ever done. Heck yeah, baby! For this fairly new runner, that was something to be proud of.

*** 3. My kids’ dad.
Whoa. I know, right? How the heck did my ex-husband make this list? I think you’ll soon understand. Kevin (that’s his name) has Becker muscular dystrophy. He is lucky to still be walking because the prognosis long ago was that he would have been in a wheelchair before he was 30. (He’s 38.) As I was leaving for the race after picking up my son, Kevin said something that stuck with me. He said, “You guys do good. I’d run it with you if I could.” All I could think of after he said that, was this quote I saw once:

“I run because I can. When I get tired, I remember those who can’t run, what they’d give to have this simple gift I take for granted, and I run harder for them. I know they would do the same for me.”

That quote went through my mind many times during this race. And now I have a feeling it will go through my mind in many more races to come.

*** 2. Memories
I had run a 5k race on this course once before. It was last year. I was afraid that running it again would actually make me feel sad because the person I ran it with wasn’t with me this time. But you know what? It didn’t make me sad at all.

The course was filled with memories at every turn. At one point, I remembered how we both felt when we saw this dreaded hill looming ahead and realized just as we got to it that the course veered to the left and we didn’t have to actually run up it. When I saw the hill this time, I just smiled. Yep, no sadness. Just a smile.

I remembered how we stayed at each other’s pace and he refused to leave me during the brief time that I had to stop to walk, when I know he could have gone on ahead easily. When I got to the place that I had to stop and walk that time and the memory filled my mind – again, I smiled. (And went faster.)

There were many more memories throughout the race. And many more smiles that accompanied them. And that made me realize something. I think something has healed. And that’s a beautiful thing.

*** 1. And hands down, the #1 reason why this was my favorite race? This kid:

That’s my son. Now, this isn’t the first time we’ve ran a race together. But this is the first time that he finished the race well ahead of me (as usual) and instead of waiting at the finish line, he turned around and came back on the course to find me. I finished the race with my son by my side cheering me on.

So there. The list is complete.

So, see? How could this not have been my favorite race?

Oh, wait. One more notable mention.

Another reason this was my favorite race? I wrote this whole blog in my head while I was running it. Combining two of my passions is a beautiful thing.

So blessed to be a runner.

***

“Methinks that the moment my legs began to move, my thoughts began to flow.”
– Henry David Thoreau

Posted by Melissa Edmondson. Categories: Running. Tags: blog, change, changed, friendship, health, heartbreak, inspiration, inspirational, love, motivation, motivational, passion, photos, Quotes, race, relationships, runner, running, writing. 3 Comments

Mar. ’13

Milestone

“I ran and ran and ran every day, and I acquired this sense of determination, this sense of spirit that I would never, never give up, no matter what else happened.”
– Wilma Rudolph

This week I hit a new milestone in my running. I ran 6 miles without stopping.

So I titled this blog “Milestone.” Heh. Get it? Milestone. Oh, witty witty me.

Anyway…

So, yeah. As you can see from the stats above, I’m not the fastest runner. Not at all. And, it was a treadmill run rather than an outside run (which people say is “easier,” but I beg to differ…). And I know I still have a long way to go before I’m fully ready for this May 4 half marathon I’m signed up for. I know there are more advanced runners looking at my accomplishment with a knowing smile remembering what it was like way back when they hit a little milestone like this.

But enough of that. Enough trying to downplay what I just did.

Because, let me tell ya something.

While yes, there may be more advanced runners watching me way back here on my journey (while nevertheless cheering me on like I’ve won the lottery – because that’s how we runners roll), there’s also someone else watching me.

The March 2012 version of Melissa.

Oh yeah. That girl was standing outside that gym with her hands cupped around her face looking through the window at me on that treadmill running 6 miles….and her jaw still hasn’t come up off the ground. She’s astounded. She would have never dreamed that this could be possible. She couldn’t even run from the car to the front door of her house when it was raining outside to keep from getting soaked. So, how on Earth could she be staring in this gym looking at this girl who just ran six miles? SIX MILES? And yes, it took her an hour and four minutes to do it. But holy cow – she just ran for over an hour without stopping. Ran! For over an hour! Hello?

Oh, that chick is proud. Astounded, yes; flabbergasted, definitely; but oh so very proud.

And do you know who else is watching?

The Melissa of March 2014. She’s one of those advanced runners I mentioned before. She’s watching me with that all-knowing little grin on her face, wishing that I know now what she’s going to know then. She wishes I could see that I am working towards such amazing and awesome things that my little mind can’t even comprehend them. She wishes that I could know that everything is going to be great – my runs, my life, my heart – all of it. She knows all of that, and just patiently smiles at me as she waits for me to catch up.

She knows that I’ve got this in the bag. That no matter how long it takes, I’m going to do whatever I need to do to succeed. She knows that I’m not going to let her down. I’ve made promises to her that she knows I fully intend to keep.

She knows that I’m going to make it.

In honor of the ‘theme’ of this blog entry, I want to share something that I saw on the “Run Junkees” Facebook page:

Met a fellow runner named Chet over the weekend. He was an old school marathoner, completing his first in 1987. While running a marathon Chet happened along side a fellow runner who was best described as short and stout. Chet engaged the runner in a brief conversation and said “How’s it going?” The runner confidently said “Great! I’m running at world record pace”. Chet inquisitively replied “World record pace, huh?” The runner answered “Yep. My world. My record. My pace.”

Yep. That’s what running is all about, isn’t it? Creating your own world – your own goals to reach, your own mountains to climb…your own personal milestones.

Ok. Enough chatter. Time to get back to work.

There’s someone in my future waiting for me to make her proud.

***

“The woods are lovely dark and deep, but I have promises to keep,
and miles to go before I sleep,
and miles to go before I sleep.”
– Robert Frost

Posted by Melissa Edmondson. Categories: Running. Tags: blog, change, changed, heart, inspiration, inspirational, motivation, motivational, passion, photos, poetry, Quotes, runner, running, writing. Leave a comment

Mar. ’13

My Rock

Ok, so I’m kind of silly.

A few months ago, I found this rock in a store. It was during a time when I felt like nothing – not time, not distance, not space – NOTHING was going to heal my “wounds.” But yet, ever the secret optimist, I bought it anyway. And I put it in my pocket. I’ve carried this little thing around every single day for two months. (Well, except that week or two where I lost it – but then found it in the bottom of my gym bag where it had been hiding all along, and all was right with the world again.)

I have never been one for superstition. Never believed in lucky charms or any of that mess. But this rock is awesome. Seriously. Sometimes I’ll just put my hand in my pocket to feel it and know that it’s there. I know it’s all in my mind – but that rock has worked miracles on me. No doubt. It has been my constant reminder that time really does heal. It really truly does.

But today I had a thought.

I think I’m probably more “healed” right now that I’ve been in years. I am in the process of making myself a better person. I have a new outlook on life. I’ve lost some things that needed losing; I’ve mended some things that needed mending; and I’m charging forward. Full of life and determination and spunk. I feel better than I have in a very long time.

So, here’s what I think I’m going to do.

I’m going to pass my rock on to someone who needs it more than I do. It’s time. It has served its purpose, and now I’m going to send it on and hope it does the same for the next person. And when that person heals, which I know they will, then they can do the same for someone else.

Pipe dream? Maybe. But I think it just might work.

It’s kind of like this blog. I write this stuff for me just as much as I do for anyone else. I write it; I read it; I try to let it sink in and get into my heart – and then I pass it on to someone else, hoping and praying that it somehow touches someone somewhere and they see that everything really does get better. It does. You just have to believe it. Believe it. That’s it.

So, goodbye little rock. Go do your thing. You got this.

***

“He who moves a mountain begins by carrying away small stones first”
– Chinese proverb

Posted by Melissa Edmondson. Categories: Freestyle Writings/Musings. Tags: blog, change, friendship, heart, heartbreak, inspiration, inspirational, loss, love, motivation, motivational, photos, Quotes, relationships, rock, time, writing. 2 Comments

Mar. ’13

The Gift of Forgiveness

(This is one from my private archives. More like a journal entry. I wrote this years ago when I heard from an old love after not having heard from him in a long period of time. For some reason, I keep being drawn back to this. I have re-read it many times over the years when I found myself needing a reminder. Recently, I’ve shared it with a few friends who have found themselves in the same situation, and they have said that reading it brought them comfort as well. So, I’ve decided to share it on my blog. Maybe you might be one that needs to hear it too.)

I got a text tonight from him. He wanted to know if we could talk.

Wow.

So, I had rehearsed what I would do or what I would say when/if this ever happened. Of course, I never really thought it would happen at all. But if it did, the Melissa of my fantasies was gonna be a hard ass. She was either going to (1) not respond at all; or (2) respond with a “not a chance, a$$hole” or something equally witty and clever. But somehow, that’s not exactly how it played out. It was more like a “Really? Well, now is not a great time, but would 10:00 p.m. be ok for me to call you?” Oh yeah, hard ass. Reeeeal hard ass.

So, I called him.

I really have no idea what I was expecting to hear. But what I did hear surprised me. There was no “I’m so sorry I ever let you go.” There was no “I really want you back.” There wasn’t even a “I just thought I’d say hey” or something equally mundane.

Instead, it was “Melissa, I need your forgiveness.”

I need your forgiveness.

The tone of his voice had that phrase behind everything he said. And yes, that phrase – I need your forgiveness – may sound selfish. And I’m sure it was. But there was more to it than that. He desperately needed to know that I was ok. That he didn’t do any lasting damage to me. Maybe it was partly for his own conscience. But that wasn’t all of it. I heard that guy who knows me. Who knew me better than most guys because I let him know me. And that guy that knows me knows that he truly and deeply broke my heart. And he wanted to know if it was healing.

So, you know what I did? I gave him what he wanted. I told him that I forgive him.

But you know what? I don’t.

Now, I will. I know I will. One of these days. But not quite yet.

But he doesn’t need to know that.

Yes, it would have been easy to hurt him like he hurt me. It would have been easy to hang on to the bitterness and the pain and to lash out and remind him of how deep the wound was. But why do that? One little lie won’t kill me. I’m going to feel the same way tomorrow whether I let him off the hook and ease his conscience or whether I make him suffer more by giving him a recount of the past few months and how I cried myself to sleep many, many nights (more than I care to admit. More recently than I care to admit also). I was known for lavishing him with gifts throughout our entire relationship. And in a way, this was just another gift. Maybe my last gift. I gave him the gift of releasing him.

And you know what that said to me? That told me that when you love someone…really love them…one little sacrifice for their benefit is really not that big of a deal. And if I had it to do over again, I’d tell the same lie over and over.

***

“Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.”
-Mark Twain

Posted by Melissa Edmondson. Categories: Freestyle Writings/Musings. Tags: apology, blog, change, changed, dating, forgiveness, friendship, heartbreak, inspiration, inspirational, loss, love, motivation, motivational, Quotes, relationships, writing. Leave a comment

Mar. ’13

Stronger

This is the back of the shirt that my son and I got at a 5k race we ran in this morning in honor of Leigh Cooper Wallace, a local hero who passed away a few months ago from complications resulting from pneumonia. As the race director described it, this was a race “in memory of her compassion and generosity, her service to this community, her incredible strength, her support of young athletes, and her encouragement for all people to pursue a healthy lifestyle.” They put together this first annual race to honor the “incredible example she set, so that we may continue to live life as fully as she did.”

I didn’t have the pleasure of knowing Leigh Cooper Wallace personally, but I can’t help but be influenced by the example she set. She went through a lot in her short lifetime (most notably being that she was a kidnap/rape survivor), and she used her story to teach others to become fighters – to not let circumstances defeat you, no matter how tempting it might be to give up.

I couldn’t help but be aware of the timing of this race for me personally.

Although I am doing great and getting tougher every day, I do still have my moments. I’ve had a rough couple of months. I’ve lost more than one friend to various circumstances, including my very best friend who I miss every single day, and that’s not something that is very easy to bounce back from. But I’ve been trying. And as part of the trying, I’ve been pushing myself harder with my running. If you’re not a runner, it’s hard to explain to you what running does to you. I know there’s something chemical to it – endorphins and whatnot. But it’s more than that. So much more. It’s a way to measure your ability to endure. To teach yourself not to give up just because things start getting a little tough – but to push through. Push through. Even when you think you can’t keep going, you can. Yes, there are going to be tough spots and yes, you may have to allow yourself to slow down a little to make it. But you will make it. Push through. Endure. Stay strong.

So, not only did I proudly run today with those thoughts in my mind, but I managed to achieve my own personal record. I’m not a fast runner, by any stretch of the imagination, but I was a lot faster today than the old me ever was. I managed to fall under the 30-minute mark and ran the race in 29:42. It has been my goal for a very long time to break 30 minutes and I did it today – on one of of the toughest 5k courses I’ve ever run.

So, how about that? Here I am. My first race in this “new life” and I’m starting off with a bang.

Turns out I really am stronger than I think. Thank you for the reminder, Leigh.

***

“As I get older I see that running has changed for me. What used to be about burning calories is now more about burning up what is false. Lies I used to tell myself about who I was and what I could do, friendships that cannot withstand hills or miles, the approval I no longer need to seek and solidarity that cannot bear silence. I run to burn up what I don’t need and ignite what I do.”
~ Kristin Armstrong

*Note: Here’s a link if you’d like to read more about what an amazing woman Leigh Cooper Wallace was:

http://www2.wataugademocrat.com/News/story/Local-runner-coach-Leigh-Wallace-dies-id-009923

Posted by Melissa Edmondson. Categories: Freestyle Writings/Musings, Running. Tags: 5k, blog, change, changed, dating, friendship, health, heartbreak, inspiration, inspirational, loss, love, motivation, motivational, passion, photos, Quotes, race, relationships, runner, running, son, writing. Leave a comment

Mar. ’13

Scars

I have scars. A bunch of them.

The most notable one, though, is this one particular disgusting surgery scar on my stomach. Oh, it’s hideous, let me tell ya. It never healed correctly – busted open a few times and had to be reattended to and whatnot. Anyway, the end result was a discolored, 1/2-inch wide, 8-inch long monstrosity that covers my entire torso. Ewww.

But you know what’s kinda funny about that? I barely ever remember that it’s there.

Isn’t that weird? I have this hideous “thing” that is probably the first thing people’s eyes are drawn to if they see my stomach; and yet I, the person who looks at it everyday, hardly see it anymore.

Which, of course, got me to thinking. (As just about everything seems to do these days…) Isn’t it strange that I have this glaring obvious scar right there in the mirror that I barely notice, and yet I spend so much time looking at and concentrating on the scars that aren’t so visible? Those are the ones that I try to “hide.” The ones that I feel are obvious to the world and that I spend so much senseless time worrying about and trying to gloss over.

But that’s just silly.

“There is something beautiful about all scars of whatever nature. A scar means the hurt is over, the wound is closed and healed, done with.” – Harry Crews

It’s those invisible scars that seem to bother us the most, isn’t it? But like the above quote says, the hurt is over. It’s over. Let yourself ponder that for a second. Yes, the healing process may still be taking place, but the actual hurt – the actual inflicting of pain – is gone. That step is behind us. Isn’t that awesome?

I defeated the cancer that caused all of the scars on the outside of my body, so I will also defeat any and everything that comes along and causes the inner scars. Scars are proof of victory. I have been victorious before, and I will be victorious now.

And I have a feeling that someone out there reading this right now might have needed to hear this too. The pain is over, the scars remain – but we are the champions. Don’t let yourself forget that.

Fight on, my friend.

***

“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls;
the most massive characters are seared with scars.”
– Khalil Gibran

Posted by Melissa Edmondson. Categories: Freestyle Writings/Musings. Tags: blog, cancer, change, flaws, health, inspiration, inspirational, motivation, motivational, Quotes, relationships, scars, surgey, writing. 4 Comments

Mar. ’13

I’m a Brat

“Being raised as a military brat has a way of making things blur together, simply because of how often you have to move. Friends come and go, clothing is packed and unpacked, households are continually purged of unnecessary items, and as a result, not much sticks. It’s hard at times, but it makes a kid strong in ways that most people can’t understand. Teaches them that even though people are left behind, new ones will inevitably take their place; that every place has something good – and bad – to offer. It makes a kid grow up fast.”
– Nicholas Sparks “The Lucky One”

I’m a military brat.

Most people who know me know this about me. But some of you who have come into my life more recently may not. (And, oh yeah, all my new blog followers who I don’t know from Adam don’t know that either – Hi Strangers! Sometimes I still forget you’re there. Thanks for reading!) My step-dad was in the Army from the time I was 8 years old. We started moving when I was in the 4th grade and never stopped. From 4th grade through 12th grade, I attended 8 different schools located in 4 different states and 2 different countries. I graduated high school in Giessen, Germany with a grand total of 21 other graduates. (1996, baby. Go Griffins! Represent!) Ok, enough of that.

Sometimes I think I forget what a profound effect my childhood had on me. At the time, I thought it was the worst thing that could happen to a person. Being dragged from here to there – having to say goodbye to friends and family sometimes at the drop of a hat – never feeling ‘stability’ or ‘roots.’ Yes, if you asked my teenage self, I would have told you that I had the worst parents in the world and no one could have had a worse childhood than mine.

Well, that brat grew up. And now she knows better.

I have something that most people don’t have. Rather than having one set of roots in one location – I have roots everywhere. I’ve seen this comic before and it always makes me chuckle:

I honestly remember when my answer to that question used to be, “I’m from nowhere.” But I’ve amended that as I have gotten older. I’m not from “nowhere.” I’m from “everywhere!” I have friends scattered all across this world. Not just this country – this world. I have links and ties to so many people from so many races, cultures and walks of life that I feel like a chameleon myself at times. And that’s awesome.

But where am I now?

Sigh.

Now I’m stuck in a military brat’s nightmare. I live in a tiny small town in the middle of nowhere. Where everyone here has lived here their whole lives and everyone knows everyone and their business and their momma’s business and their second cousin twice-removed’s business. It’s tough. And one day I’ll make my escape. But in the meantime, even though I may stick out like sore thumb and feel like a fish out of water at times, I am safe in the knowledge that who I am has not changed and has not molded to fit my surroundings. I may be different, but I’m me. And that won’t change. And part of being ‘me’ means that I can handle a lot of crap. People may come and go, but I remain steady. I remain me.

Because of my upbringing and my ability to adapt, I have become a pro at handling change. You want to leave my life? Go. I’ll cry for a while, I’m not heartless. But I’ll pick myself up, dust myself off, and realize that when one leaves, another takes their place. I’m not saying that some don’t hold special places in your life. They do. Some spots are always reserved for certain special people. But I always know that I’m not going to be alone, and that that empty spot can be smoothed over with the laughter and love from new friends, new places, new activities, etc. When one thing leaves, another will take its place. Always.

It’s the military brat creed.

Hooah.

Posted by Melissa Edmondson. Categories: Freestyle Writings/Musings. Tags: army, blog, brat, change, family, inspiration, inspirational, military, motivation, motivational, photos, Quotes, writing. 3 Comments

Mar. ’13

Waiting

(I wrote this years ago, but find it interesting that I feel exactly the same right now. I guess it’s true that history really does repeat itself .)

WAITING

I am sitting here.

Alone in the dark with only a small lamp to my left to illuminate the blank pages before me. It is 5:00 a.m.
I like to imagine that I am the only one awake for miles. That the rest of the world is asleep while I sit here with my thoughts.

The rain falls steadily outside my window. The monotonous drip drop, drip drop on the tin roof above my porch should be soothing. Comforting.

But it is not.
For I am not safe.

Safe from physical harm – yes. Safe from the wind and the cold and Dangers that may (or may not) lie outside the locked front door beside me. Safe from all the Dangers that one might see and feel and touch. No, my Fear is something deeper. Unseen. Untouched.

My fear is of Myself.

Why am I so uneasy? Unsatisfied? Why is this seemingly harmless life around me suddenly frightening? What changed? Who is this Stranger creeping her way into my home and into my heart and mind? Who is this woman emerging from the young girl whom I had just recently – finally – come to recognize? What are these feelings I’ve discovered living inside of me? Inside of me! All this time, where have They been?

Where They sitting there laughing hysterically at this young fool pretending to be someone she is not?

Or were They just waiting patiently? Patiently.
For me to be ready.
For Acceptance.
For Realization.

And what do I do now?
What do you do when you are torn between who you are . . . and who you are meant to be?

Are the Answers inside of me?
Were They neighbors to my Feelings?
Will I soon meet Them as well?
Are They, too, waiting? For Acceptance?
For Realization?

For Change?

Posted by Melissa Edmondson. Categories: Freestyle Writings/Musings, Poetic Musings. Tags: blog, change, inspiration, inspirational, motivation, motivational, poetry, writing. Leave a comment

Mar. ’13

Secret Weapon

“Our running shoes are really erasers. Every step erases a memory of a past failure. Every mile brings us closer to a clean slate. Each foot strike rubs away a word, a look, or an event that led us to believe that success was beyond our grasp.”
– John Bingham

Today is March 1. The beginning of the dreaded month of March. *Sigh*

March and I have issues that go way back. For some reason, it seems that notable negative things always seem to happen in my life in this particular month. And every year I brace myself once again for what seems to inevitably be in store for me. And even if nothing in particular ends up happening, the awful month still looms there, filled with unwanted anniversaries from the past.

But not this year. This year is different. This year I have a secret weapon. Or, as John Bingham likes to call them – erasers.

This March, I’m a runner.

I started running in April of last year, so March will be the end of a full year of running. I hate to sound like I’m patting myself on the back here, but I am so freakin’ proud of me. As someone who has very little patience, running has taught me that the best things sometimes really do take time. I, like most people, want what I want and I want it NOW. That is not an option in running. Running requires patience. In fact, it demands it. It’s an endless process of slow, arduous transformation. And the more I run, the more I realize that process doesn’t just apply to my leg muscles. It’s a transformation of your mind. It’s a realization that you really are capable of great things, if you’ll only put forth the time and effort required. Little by little, day by day.

“Running is about the slow and painful process of being the best you can be. That’s why the first step out the door is always so hard. That’s when we choose between settling for average and being a superhero version of ourselves.”
– Martin Dugard

I didn’t realize it at the time, but in April of 2012, I made the choice to be a superhero version of myself. And I continue to make that choice over and over again every time I lace up.

So, you know what? Bring it on, silly ol’ March. There’s nothing you can do to me anymore. I’m a superhero now.

“My runs always remind me of what life is; always putting one foot in front of the other, even when I’m exhausted. It’s about running up the hill, however daunting, and congratulating myself for not stopping. Life, like running, is about getting up and pushing on ahead, even if I’ve tripped on a pothole. It’s about keeping the rhythm and setting a pace. It’s about minding my injuries and allowing myself time to heal, but not letting injuries get the best of me. Running is like life; it is a glorious, albeit sometimes painful, act of always moving forward.”
– Luci L. Creery