Quick Fix
Some learn to live with cavities of the heart.
But others?
Others need to fill the void.
They squeeze, they cram,
they fit whatever they can into the spaces
until it is too full
and starts to burst at the seams.
Then?
Then they look for a bandaid
to hold the pieces together.
And that works. Temporarily.
The problem with bandaids though?
They have to come off.
And that’s going to sting.
“The surest sign of age is loneliness.”– Anne Dillard
Let’s talk about adult friendships, shall we?
I want to show you something that I saw yesterday.
“Wish those people who talk about their recent outings or make plans in my presence realized that they never invite me. Are they insensitive? Do they assume I’m busy or disinterested?
Feeling a little hurt because I’m realizing that I invested over a year trying to build friendships that will never be more than functional, practical acquaintances.
I’ve got people who live too far away for random, everyday interactions. I’ve got people I can call in a crisis but I don’t have that circle of local girlfriends I’ve been hoping for. Guess it’s time to move on. Problem is, surrounded by so many locals, no one has an opening for an ‘everyday friend.’”
What you just read was an online post from my Facebook friend Tiffany. I saw it yesterday while scrolling through and I haven’t been able to get it off of my mind. I had a passing thought to blog about it, but then decided maybe not. Really, what could I write about? And what could I offer? Advice? Ha. Hardly. Why? Because I’m not qualified, that’s why. I’m just like Tiffany.
I feel exactly the same way.
And then today, as if the universe knew I was trying to hide from the thought, I received a message from Kim, a mutual friend of mine and Tiffany’s. This is what she had to say:
“I am sadly amazed at the responses to Tiffany’s post. Given the outpouring of understanding she received, I would love to see you blog about this. It is a widespread topic that we are reluctant to put out there. Oh, I’m whining, or pathetic, or some other dreamt up stupid adjective that is not accurate (except in our mind). You write THE best, honest, open and heartfelt pieces. For all of us who feel strangely disenfranchised, please write.”
Could I write about this? Really? What would I have to say?
So, the first thing I did was go back and read Tiffany’s post and peruse the responses. Here’s what I saw:
“Ditto. Ditto exactly.” – Veronica
“I can relate to this.” – Blakeley
“I feel the same way.” – Heidi
“Thank you for your honesty. More people than you know feel the same way here.” – Becky
“I don’t have this either.” – Cassondra
(And let me just pause here to point out that Cassondra is my next door neighbor and a friend from my community theatre. Geez.)
Now, aside from the many commenters who simply voiced their understanding of Tiffany’s statement, there were also a few who attempted to rationalize it as well.
“This makes me….wish I was less generally ‘hermity.’” – Season
Looks like Season seems to be blaming herself here. She sees it as a flaw in her own personality or is seeing it as her choice to be alone.
And on that same note:
“I don’t have it either. I think it’s harder to be close to people as I get older. I’m less trusting and more self sufficient.” – Melissa (Oh, wait, that’s me.)
Like Season (gosh I love that name), my comment fell into the same category. Somehow I feel as if I have chosen to feel like Tiffany does.
Some seemed to blame it on the small area we live in:
“Our area is a difficult place to form friendships. I had so many good friends in SC that I went out with on a regular basis. When we moved back home, I had my family but no friends.” – Andrea
“That’s the problem with small towns; they typically aren’t very welcoming to ‘outsiders’ in a deep friendship way. We really haven’t had good friends since we lived in Atlanta.” – Jill
And one mentioned the fact that we don’t make the time for these friendships:
“We are busy and allow the urgent to overtake the important, we don’t take time for girlfriend relationships.” – Cyndi
Then, one that really stood out to me and got me right in the feels:
“I struggle with this same thing. Since I’ve changed my life and try to focus on doing good I don’t have anyone that likes to come around either. It’s funny when you party and act wild you’ll have friends around but as soon as I sober up nobody calls or comes around. So I just hangout with my sweet boys all the time. But it’d def be nice to have a friend too.” – Crystal
(Oh, Crystal. Do you have any idea how strong you are, lady? I sure hope so.)
So, here we have a variety of women with a variety of reasons why they think they have lost this connection with other women. Which one is right?
Are Andrea and Jill onto something? Is it the area we live in? I can certainly relate to that if it is. As a woman who definitely did not grow up in this small town, I often feel left out when I see these female friendships that have been blooming for years.
Or, is it what Cyndi said? Is it the fact that we don’t make time for friendships? As women who are all grown up and now have jobs and kids to take care of and houses to keep clean, is it that we just don’t have the time anymore to pick up the phone and make a plan for a girls’ night? Again, I get it. It seems frivolous in a way. We are women – we take care of things. Who is going to keep things on track around here if we take the night off?
Or is Crystal the one who has it figured out? Have we just outgrown friendships? While we might not have all changed as profoundly as Crystal has (and again – you go girl!), we’ve definitely all changed. There’s no doubt about it. We get older and the things that were once important to us just aren’t anymore.
Or are Season and I the ones that have it figured out. Is it just our choice to not be close to people anymore? Some of us realize it, but maybe some of us don’t?
Sigh. Again, like I said at the beginning of this blog, I don’t really know why I’m writing this. I don’t have the ability to provide answers. Like another commenter, Conor, said, “I can’t offer advice, only empathy.” What is there to say?
Well, other than this:
Tiffany, you are obviously not alone.
“Do you know how many people feel the same way? You have opened up a conversation here that so many are afraid to even contemplate because they don’t want to recognize the hurt and rejection that comes with it. Community is SO needed!!!” – Julie
Julie, my dear, you are on to something. You see all of those suggestions of why up there? They don’t matter. They really don’t. We can sit and try to analyze it all day. Maybe there are a million different reasons it happens, but the fact is that it does happen. It has happened to so many of us.
And now, the question is this – what do we do about it?
I want to go out on a limb and hypothesize about something. I think social media plays a huge role in this conundrum. Now, hear me out here.
I have friends. Really, I do. In fact, I have about 1,045 of them. Don’t believe me? Just ask Facebook. Now, I’m not saying that I don’t cherish those friends on there. I do. In fact, I have a few that I don’t know what I’d do without. When I need a listening ear, I just type away and there they are.
But is that the same thing? Really?
How many times have I said, “I have a problem I need to talk about. Can I come over?” Or how many times have I reached out to someone else? How many times have I said, “I’m sorry you’re hurting, I’ll be right over.” I’ll tell you how many times. Zero. It’s just too easy to have a typed conversation. Or send a funny meme. Or post a facebook status and watch the empathy roll in.
But is that enough?
Tiffany’s status and the overwhelming amount of responses she received tell me that maybe it’s not.
So now what?
I’m a runner. One of the things I always tell people who are just starting out, and the thing that was always told to me when I was first starting out, is this: the first step is always the hardest. Even as an experienced runner, that never fails to be the case. Some days I just don’t feel like running. But as soon as I put forth the effort to just get into my running gear, lace up my shoes, and take those first sluggish steps out the door, it gets easier after that.
Maybe that logic is the same that needs to be applied here.
Kudos to Tiffany. She took that first step. She acknowledged the problem. And not only did she acknowledge it, she put it out there. What courage that took. And because of that courage, she received messages like this one from Christy:
“You, me, coffee? I’d love to spend time with you! I guess I always figure people already have their group of friends since I’m new to town. I always need more girlfriends, though!”
And there you have it. Will Tiffany and Christy become best friends? Who knows? Maybe, maybe not. Friendships are like relationships. Some work, some don’t. But, also like relationships, you have to try. You just have to.
It’s just way too lonely out here alone.
And as for me? Well, I guess it’s time to put my money where my mouth is. I have a neighbor that I’d like to get to know better. And how ridiculous of me that I haven’t asked sooner.
***
“The only way to have a friend is to be one.”
– Ralph Waldo Emerson
“The greatest test of courage on earth is to bear defeat without losing heart.”
– Robert Green Ingersoll
So, I wrote a blog last week. It was about a race I ran. But it wasn’t just any ole race, mind you. It was a race in which I finished…DEAD LAST.
Now, I struggled with whether I should hit the little “publish” button when I was finished, but in the end decided to go ahead and bite the bullet. I blog plenty about the great moments in my life, so I figured it was time to blog about one of the not-so-great. Time for a little honesty, ya know? A little humility. How would it be received? I didn’t know. But I did know that I was putting myself out there for public embarrassment. And yet, somehow, I didn’t seem to care. I felt like I had something to say, and so I said it.
So, what happened? How was it received?
Hunter’s Heroes race – Mile 9
I was blown away (to put it mildly) by the response. It has been viewed almost 8,000 times now and shared and posted over 1,000 times. A women’s running site featured it. Many running groups on Facebook shared it and a few even contacted me requesting me to join. I was contacted by runners all over the world who thanked me for being the voice of so many “back-of-the-packers.” I was even contacted by one person who ran the actual race I was blogging about. He was one of the first finishers and admitted that, even up there in the front of the pack, he felt so many of the things that I felt too.
Wow. I’m in awe. All this time, I’ve been trying to do awesome things so I could blog about them – and it turns out that blogging about a “failure” is what ended up resonating the loudest. Who knew!? I guess suffering through misery and embarrassment and then rising back up to tell about it maybe isn’t quite what you’d call “failure” after all. (I think a lot of us need that reminder every now and then in our lives – we don’t give ourselves enough credit for all the times that tends to be the case.)
So I decided it was time for a little epilogue. What happened to that runner who finished last in that race? Did she ever run again?
Yep. She sure did.
Just before the start of the MOJE race (Mount Jefferson is behind me.)
In fact – only 6 short days after that race, I ran a race called the MOJE. This is a 6.6 mile race, in which 3.3 of those miles are straight up a mountain. (The other 3.3 are back down – but I probably didn’t have to clarify that.) MOJE is short for Mount Jefferson – which is a 1,342-foot climb. (Add 100 more feet to that for the training I did because I thought the course went even further – leave it to me to make a hard thing even harder!)
Now, I’m not going to lie. That MOJE race was front and center on my mind as I finished last in the race less than a week prior. I remember thinking there was no way I was actually going to do that race. I was going to show up, get my shirt, and leave. Now, I’ve never actually done that before, but this time was going to be an exception. No mountain climbing for a last place race finisher, sheesh. What was I thinking? I couldn’t hang with the big dogs. Was I insane?
But, like it always does, time healed the sting of that last-place finish and by the time the MOJE rolled around, I knew I could do it. I trained. I trained hard. And now, I had learned what it felt like to be last. I already knew that being last was not the most horrible thing in the world that could happen. I survived – big deal. And I would survive this one.
I wasn’t last in the MOJE, but I was close. And you know what, who cares? As the faster runners were making their way down the mountain while I was still hoofing it up, I got more “good job”s and high fives than I could count from them as they passed by. This was the friendliest race I’ve ever been a part of. And I finally…FINALLY…earned one of the coveted MOJE race t-shirts. (And we all know I only do races for the t-shirts. I’ll pretty much do anything for a t-shirt, but that’s a blog for another day…)
You know, I ran my first full marathon back in November and I can honestly tell you that I was just as proud (if not prouder) of myself after I finished this mountain race as I was of that one. Not only because it was tough (and that’s an understatement!) but because it followed a time in my life when I could have easily given up, yet chose to keep going instead. Like my shirt says in my race finish photo, I made the choice to keep moving.
And I’m so glad I did.
And that, my dear friends, is what it’s all about. Truly.
MOJE finish line. Time: 1:21:31
“I can accept failure, everyone fails at something. But I can’t accept not trying.”
– Michael Jordan
I want to show you a picture I took just before I started a 10-mile race this morning. I want you to pay particular attention to one part of the picture, okay? Here, let me point it out for you….
Did you catch that? The smile…see it? Well, let me tell you my dears, that was the last time that bad boy was on my face until much later in the day. Why’s that, you ask?
I’ve been running for three and a half years now and today – “it” happened for the first time.
I, Melissa Edmondson, finished dead last in a race.
That’s right. LAST.
So…as is the usual custom for me, I’ve decided to write about it. You know – take an embarrassing situation and make it public. Because that seems to help.
I’m going to take you on a little trip. You ready? Now, you may want to sit back and prepare yourself – seatbelts and whatnot – because you, my friends, are about to take a little journey through my brain. Gentlemen, start your engines….
One heaping helping of humility coming right up!
Thoughts That Run Through a Last-Place Finisher’s Brain:
1. Man, that first mile was FAST! Get it, girl. Should we slow down? Nahhhh…we’ll need that time we just saved. You’re killing it!
2. Second mile? Fast again! Dang, girl. Now, you know you have 8 more of these to do, right? And it’s going to start going uphill. Think we should slow down a bit? Heck no, this is a race! Rev it, baby!
3. Oh, here comes the finish line for the 5K runners. If I only did the 5K, I’d be finished now. But no way – not me! I’m a distance runner! A big, bad distance runner! Good-bye, 5Kers, I’m moving on. Woohoo!
4. Hmmm. Is it just me, or is it really quiet now that the 5K people are gone? Where’s everyone at?
5. *Cricket. Cricket. Cricket.*
6. I’m just going to take a quick peek behind me and see what’s back there. This is a long straight-stretch so I should be able to get a good feel for who is behind me.
7. WTF?! Where are the other racers? No, seriously. Where are they?
8. Oh God, here come the hills. You can do this, you can do this. You’re a distance runner. You’re a distance runner.
9. It’s frickin hot out here.
10. Okay, mile 5. That wasn’t too bad. Half-way through. You can do this, you can do this.
11. *Another peek back.*
12. I’m seriously the last person.
13. Okay, here comes mile 7. Yay, a water stop! An excuse to walk! At least I don’t know anyone out here…I’m just a stranger finishing last, no biggie.
14. Oh crap. Is that my friend running the water station? WHAT!? Yep, that’s her. Oh no. And look at the sweet little girl handing out water. Act happy. Act happy.
15. Take the water and smile. Take the water and smile. Take the water and smile.
16. I think my friend may have just taken a picture. I hope I smiled. And I hope the cops weren’t behind me in the picture since I’m last. Oh, did I mention I’m in last place?
17. I bet I didn’t smile. *Turning to look behind me.* And yep, there’s the po-po. Great.
18. Mile 8. You’re not dead. Keep going. You can do this. You can do this.
19. You can’t do this. You suck. Just quit now.
20. Good God are these hills ever going to stop!? Who runs a race in the mountains? And where are all the other people in this thing? Seriously!? What are they, aliens? Who runs this fast in the heat and hills? I hate them. I hate me. I hate everyone and everything.
21. I’m totally going to blog about this.
22. I’m totally not going to blog about this. This is embarrassing.
23. I need Coke. (The liquid kind.)
23. Mile 9. My phone is dying. OMG – seriously? All this work and my phone is dying? Now, how am I going to post on Facebook about how miserable I am?
24. Oh, good – another aid station! I hope there’s Coke.
25. No Coke. Jerks.
26. I’m kidding, they’re not jerks. These volunteers are so dang nice. I wish I wasn’t almost dead so I could actually tell them how much I appreciate them.
27. Phone just died. My life is over.
28. For the love of God, here comes another hill. Screw it. I’m walking.
29. You’re going to walk in the last mile? Hell, yeah I am.
30. You shouldn’t walk in the last mile. You’re almost there.
31. SHUT UP!
32. I know these volunteers want to go home, and I’m the sole reason they’re still out here. I suck.
33. I KNOW that has been more than a mile. Am I being punked?
34. Oh good, a cop escort. Wave at him. Wave at him. Smile. Be nice. It’s not his fault you’re last – he’s just doing his job.
35. THANK GOD! I see the finish line! I hope the cop doesn’t turn his siren on. I’ve seen them do that at the end of a race. How embarrassing that would be. Please, please, please, let me just slip across the finish line quietly with no fanfare.
36. *SIREN*
37. I hate my life.
*Sigh*
And there you have it, folks. A dead last race finish.
I was fully prepared to head home and throw my running shoes in the trash. Okay, maybe that’s a wee bit dramatic, but I had seriously decided that distance running was no longer in the cards for me. I just didn’t have what it took and that was all there was to it.
But then…the next few hours passed. And in those few hours, a few things happened.
First, I had this conversation by text with my teenage daughter:
*sniff* What an awesome kid.
Then, I texted a friend who completely understood me and let me vent. That was nice. Yes, I finished. No, I didn’t quit. But sometimes we need those friends in our lives who “get it.” You know? The ones who just let you rant and swear you’ll never run again, but who know you’ll come crawling back like you always do.
Then, I got a message from the friend who was handing out water. (The po-po picture-taker.) This is what it said:
I am not as elegant with words as you but I will try to express my feelings. I was honored to cheer you on this morning and offer water to those who passed by. The race is only possible because of runners like you. Thank you. Running is not a gift of mine, and I would stand out there for 6 hours if it meant serving someone who is serving others. Grateful to call you friend.
Here come the sniffles again….
I’m not even going to pretend that I am happy with my performance in this race. That would be a lie. But geez, it’s not the end of the world. I was alive to run. And in this race, in particular, I should especially remember that. This race was done in honor of those who have lost their lives in the line of duty. It started three years ago as a small honorary race for a fallen police officer, and has now grown into a wonderful thing that lets so many family members of other lost heroes know that the community cares for their loss and appreciates their sacrifice.
Sure, I was last. But I am alive. I was running. I was moving. I could come home and whine and complain and then wake up tomorrow morning and start all over. Some people don’t have that luxury.
I will live to run again. It was just a bad race, that’s all. It happens. I just need to take a breath, relax my aching muscles, and get up and try again.
I suppose that’s what life is all about, right?
***
“I complained that I had no shoes until I met a man who had no feet.”
– Proverb
“Gay rights is just one of the social issues I’m interested in. I think that people might be less tense about it if we would all accept the fact that not everyone is wired the same way.”– Charlaine Harris
And you know another reason I stay out of it? It’s pretty simple, really.
I HATE when people don’t agree with me.
I do. Oh my gosh, do I hate it. Why are other people so darn dense? Why can’t they see that I’m always right??? Sheesh.
Which brings me to one of the current topics of political discussion these days. Same-sex marriage.
Unless you live under a rock (and hey, if you do – scootch over, I’m coming in too), you have heard that same-sex marriage is a hot topic these days. And now, it has made it to the supreme court. Hearings started yesterday and the outcome is not expected to be heard until June 30th. June friggin 30th.
So, let me get this straight. (No pun intended.) A discussion is going to start on April 28 and is going to continue throughout TWO FULL MONTHS before the final decision is made…and it’s all about whether or not two people who love each other can get married?
Excuse me while I scratch my head for the next two months straight because I don’t know what the heck is happening here.
For those of you who don’t know me, I’m a voracious reader. I constantly have a book going. Actually, I usually have at least three books going at any given time. I listen to audio books in the car, I carry a paper book with me wherever I go, and I have audio books on my phone so I can listen to them when I’m running. Now, for someone who reads as much as I do, there’s a massive potential for me to be supremely intelligent, wouldn’t you say? I could be reading “how to” books and history books and current events books. But nope. I just listen to novels. Made-up stories. Not anything earth-shattering or informational. Just pure old-fashioned entertainment. But every now and then, a little nugget of awesomeness slips through from one of these novels. Let me share one with you. This is from The Patron Saint of Liars by Ann Patchett.
(Young girl to a nun): “What would the church say about something like that?” (Nun’s answer): “No, the question is what would God say. And that’s between her and God. It’s none of our business.”
Now, did you catch that? It’s NONE OF OUR FRIGGIN BUSINESS. Why in this world is it going to take TWO MONTHS for a bunch of supreme court justices to sit around and decide the fate of something that is none of our business? It just blows my little novel-reading, politics-ignoring, pea-sized mind.
Am I looking at this too simply? Perhaps. But is the world making this much more complicated than it needs to be? YES. For God’s sake, YES.
I know this may come as a shock to some of you, but Christianity is not the only religion in this country. (I’ll pause here while some of you catch your bearings. Breathe. Just breathe.) Thus, that whole separation of church and state thing that everyone ignores. We are a country of diversity. Beautiful, precious diversity. Why is it any of my business what the neighbors are doing with their personal life? Why? If same-sex couples are not allowed to marry, are they all going to suddenly break up, repent, see the error of their ways, and get back in straight relationships where they belong? Puh-lease. This is a formality. Straight people are straight, gay people are gay, and there is nothing that a supreme court is going to be able to do about that. It’s nature, people.
I was recently at a conference for my job. Now, I work in real estate, mind you, and guess what topic came up at this conference? You guessed it. Same-sex marriage. A local North Carolina county register of deeds was the guest speaker and she was speaking about the changes that have been enacted in relation to same-sex marriages being filed with the court. While same-sex marriages are supposed to be recognized in the state of North Carolina now, many court workers have refused to participate in the preparation and filing of the licenses. So, how has North Carolina responded to this little problem? They have allowed the workers to refuse the work if it goes against their beliefs. Oh, same-sex couples can still be married, mind you. But they have to wait to be sure the register of deeds herself (or himself) is present because they, unlike the other workers, are not allowed to refuse. What the heck?
Scene. Okay, I’m a worker at the register of deeds office. You with me? I’m sitting there playing solitaire on my computer and in walks my ex-boyfriend. Yep, that sorry, no good ex-boyfriend of mine that broke my heart into a million pieces. And who does he have with him? The good-for-nothing little blonde that he LEFT ME FOR. And what’s he there to do? Get a marriage license. Are you kidding me? Oh HELL NO! That jerk doesn’t deserve to be married. So, nope. Not gonna do it. Why? Because my BELIEFS say that this lowlife doesn’t deserve marriage like the rest of us do. Why not? Because he’s a cheating bag of scum. So there. BAM! No marriage for you, sucker.
And guess what? I get to keep my job. Nanny nanny boo boo.
Oh, wait. That scenario is different, you say? Pray tell me how? That was me letting my personal beliefs interfere with my job. Why on earth do I get to continue working there? Shouldn’t I have to do my job or get the heck out? What is it about this that I’m not getting, people? Help me out here.
At this same conference, the register of deeds was talking about all of the new e-filing systems and how technologically advanced North Carolina is when it comes to those matters. Somewhat under her breath, she followed that up with, “North Carolina: technologically advanced, but legally backwards.”
Amen, sister.
What’s my point of this blog? Nothing really. Just a rant, I suppose. Just some rambling thoughts about an issue that affects people I love. Will what I say make a difference to anyone? Probably not. But should I keep saying it? You betcha. If one person out there knows that one other person in this world has their back, then my job here is done.
Why can’t we just love and let love? I just don’t get it….
***
“If Sue loves Joe and Tom loves Joe, Sue can marry him and Tom can’t. And the difference is based upon their different sex. Why isn’t that a straightforward question of sexual discrimination?”
– Chief Justice John Roberts, April 28, 2015
“The only limits are those we place on ourselves; and it is possible to overcome those limits to achieve more than we ever thought possible.”
– Chrissy Wellington
Okay. I’m gonna do it.
Me. The girl who almost died doing my first marathon back in November? Remember her?
Well, that dummy just signed up for Another Dam 50K.
No, really, that’s the name of it. Another Dam 50K. See?
Sigh. What the heck am I doing? What’s my problem? Wasn’t 26.2 miles of torture enough? Why, oh why, do I want to add 5 more miles to it? What on earth am I thinking??
Save yourselves the trouble of asking because, trust me – I beat you to to it. I’ve asked myself the very same thing. Many times. And you know what? I have the answer to it too. I finally figured it out.
The answer is this:
I have no idea.
Yep. That’s it. That’s the answer. No idea.
Why do I run? I don’t know. Why did I start running? I don’t know. Why is each added distance just not quite enough to make me happy? Eh.
I don’t know.
I really don’t. Am I crazy? Maybe. Well….probably. [But I’m not sure that has anything to do with running…] Am I a sucker for punishment? For pain? Well, no. I don’t think so anyway. So, what the heck am I doing?
Maybe that’s just it. Maybe there is no rational answer at all.
There’s nothing rational about pushing your body to the limit. Am I ever going to have to run 26.2 miles or more in my life? Ever? I think I can safely say that the answer to that is no. So, physically and rationally, there is no reason for me to learn to go that distance.
But emotionally?
Oh man. Emotionally…there’s every reason in the world for me to learn to go the distance, so to speak. As a military brat, I am the Queen of Temporary. Nothing ever lasts. Homes, relationships, friendships, etc… it all used to be temporary to me. New starts? Now, I was always good at those. But finishes? Ha! Let’s just say that going the distance wasn’t one of my strong suits. In a life where all was temporary, why learn permanence? Why stick with anything?
Until now.
Until running.
Running is something that I’ve found that I don’t want to quit. I don’t. Sure, I get frustrated now and then. I get injured temporarily. I get tired. But each and every single time, I get right back up and start moving again. I found something that I just can’t stop doing. No matter how much life tries to throw at me to keep me from it, I always manage to find my way back.
“I ran, and kept running, because I had learned that once you started something you didn’t quit, because in life, much like in an ultramarathon, you have to keep pressing forward… I ran because overcoming the difficulties of an ultramarathon reminded me that I could overcome the difficulties of life, that overcoming difficulties was life.”
– Scott Jurek, ultramarathoner
Distance running has made me a better person. It has taught me how to make up my mind about something, and stick with it. It has taught me that sometimes working through the pain is worth it because of what lies on the other side. It has taught me that I’m tough. That I’m strong.
That I’m a finisher.
So, why do I want to run a 50K now? Well, how about that? Maybe I do know after all.
Because I can.
50K. 31.07 miles. June 6, 2015. Let’s do this.
***
“Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.”
-T. S. Eliot
“I have no right, by anything I do or say, to demean a human being in his own eyes. What matters is not what I think of him; it is what he thinks of himself. To undermine a man’s self-respect is a sin.”
– Antoine de Saint-Exupery
I know. I know. One day this won’t matter.
One day, I’ll look back on this situation that infuriates me and I’ll realize that life went right on. No one died. The earth didn’t stop spinning. The sun didn’t stop coming up every morning.
I get it.
But by God, today is not “one day.” Today is today. And today…it matters.
Without giving specifics (which I want to do sooooo bad), I’ll just say that I’ve had a “disagreement” with my kids’ school recently regarding the way some of the people in authority have handled a certain situation. I have tried so very hard to raise my kids to respect authority (heck, I even blogged about it), but sometimes…sometimes authority is just blatantly misused. It really is. Sometimes, just because someone is wearing the “I’m the boss” hat, that doesn’t mean they’re in the right.
My child took a chance and courageously spoke out against the way he and some friends were being treated by the coach of a sports team. And what was the result?
He is now no longer a part of the team. And not only that, he got sent off with a little jab about his own abilities and aptitudes in the sport. Great coaching, huh?
Now, granted, with the way things were being handled on the team (politics, politics, politics), I’m not entirely heartbroken that he doesn’t have to be a part of it anymore. But you know what? He is.
And that sucks.
Where do you draw the line, people? How do you raise your children to respect authority, and yet also teach them to stand up for themselves when the authority is corrupt? It’s such a thin line…such a gray area. Where’s my parenting handbook? Anybody got one I can borrow?
*sigh*
So, no. One day this won’t matter. One day we’ll look back on this moment in my son’s high school career and we’ll laugh about the insignificance of this particular incidence to the rest of his adult life. One day.
But today? Today I have a heartbroken kid who just got a cruel life lesson handed to him the hard way. Sometimes, even though you are doing the right thing and standing up for injustice, it may not work out. You may have to suffer the consequences for it.
So, the question to ask yourself is this: Are the consequences worth taking the risk?
I’m proud of my son and the courage it took to stand up for what he thought was right. I just hate that it sets the example for other kids to sit back and shut up because if you say something, you’ll be punished. That’s not what these kids need to learn. That’s not what the world needs to see.
There’s a healthy respect for authority. And then there’s a misuse of authority. It’s up to each of us as individuals to try our best to discern the difference.
And boy, that one’s a toughie.
One day this won’t matter. Really. It won’t.
Or will it?
***
“In matters of truth and justice, there is no difference between large and small problems, for issues concerning the treatment of people are all the same.”
– Albert Einstein
“You keep your mansions of gold
Buddy, I don’t care
‘Cause I know where love lives”
– Hal Ketchum
So, let me tell you a little about what’s been happening at my house lately. Actually, it’s kind of the same thing that is pretty much always happening at my house. Richard, my gorgeous new husband who happens to be a musician, is learning a new song.
And here’s what happens at our house when Richard is learning a new song.
Nothing.
That’s right. Nothing.
The man has a one-track mind, people. He decides he wants to learn a new song (or anything new for that matter) and his focus is on that one thing and that one thing only. He’s like a dog with a bone, man.
Example? A conversation in the living room the other night:
Me: Richard, did you hear me?
Richard: *singing and playing guitar*
Me: Richard? I was talking to you.
Richard: *singing and playing guitar*
My daughter: He only listens if it’s about a song. Sing it to him and see if that works.
Oh yeah. This is how it is, folks. And you want to know a secret? Want to know how I really feel about that?
I love it.
I know, I know. I know what you’re thinking. Oh, they’re newlyweds. She thinks it’s cute now, but just wait… And hey, I’ll give ya that. Maybe you’re right. Maybe one day it’ll drive me nuts. But right now?
Nope.
And here’s why.
I’ve been hearing a lot of pretty sad stuff in the news lately. One, in particular, is something that has happened to a fellow runner in an online running group I am a part of. Now, I don’t know this woman personally. Let me just give that disclaimer upfront. But I feel like I do. She’s a woman; a mom; a runner; a fellow human being. I identify with her in many ways. But there’s one way that (but for the grace of God go I) I don’t identify with her. She was in an abusive relationship. Note the word was. She is no longer in that relationship anymore. Why? Because her husband…the father of her four children and the man who took vows before God to honor and cherish her…took her life last week.
Just like that, she’s gone.
You hear news like that, and you can’t help but think of your own life. It’s human nature. I’m no exception. First, I feel a sense of disbelief. That can’t possibly have just happened to someone who is just like me. Next, I feel sadness. Such overwhelming sadness for those four kids who have to face this world without their mother, and with a murderous father in prison for the rest of his life.
And then, my feelings almost immediately switch over to something else. Gratitude. That’s right. I feel grateful. I can’t help it. It may sound horrible to say that–it may sound overwhelmingly selfish–but that doesn’t make it any less true. I immediately thank God that I will never know how that poor woman felt in those last moments of her life. I’ll never know what it feels like to fear the man I love.
Never.
So, when you put it like that…it makes a little one-track-mind singing seem pretty trivial, doesn’t it? I’m in love with a man who fills our home with music. So, not only does it not irritate me when his mind is stuck on a song…it fills me with an indescribable joy. My heart fills with so much love for this gentle, tender, good man that I just cannot believe that the stars aligned in such a way that brought him into my world.
So, back to the song. The song he has been learning is called “I Know Where Love Lives” by Hal Ketchum. Here’s a little snippet of the lyrics:
There’s a house on the edge of town
It’s a little old, it’s a little run down
Full of laughter and tears and toys
Crazy things only love enjoys
I know where love lives
I know where love lives
She’s sitting on the back step in the evening air
Sea green eyes and her chestnut hair
You keep your mansions of gold
Buddy, I don’t care
‘Cause I know where love lives
Wow.
Nope, our life isn’t perfect. Yep, we get on each others’ nerves at times, no doubt. But you know what?
I know where love lives.
And that’s the greatest gift I could have ever imagined.
Photo credit: Bobbi Jo Scott
***
“Sometimes we should express our gratitude for the small and simple things. Like the scent of the rain, the taste of your favorite food, or the sound of a loved one’s voice.”
– Joseph B. Wirthlin
“To describe the agony of a marathon to someone who’s never run it is like trying to explain color to someone who was born blind.”
– Jerome Drayton
Okay, here it is….a blog post about my first full marathon! Now, I know that people who have just run their first marathon don’t generally like to talk about it much. I mean, surely this is the first time most of you have even heard about this, right? What? Melissa ran a marathon? You’re kidding! I know, I know, we marathoners are generally kind of quiet about such accomplishments and all….
NOT!
AHHHH!!! I ran a friggin marathon, people!!!
Anthem Richmond Marathon – finisher photo
And I cannot. stop. talking. about. it. My friends and family are going to hate me. I just can’t stop. Coworker: “Hey, Melissa, you want a piece of gum?” Me: “No, thanks. You know, I can’t chew gum when I run. It’s weird. Oh, hey, did you know I just ran a marathon?…” Oh yeah, it’s that bad.
But, in a meek attempt at trying to reign in the length of this blog, I’m going to narrow down my recap a little for you. I’m going to tell you the top 10 most important, most memorable things about my first full marathon experience. Okay? Sound fair? Short and sweet, right? Good. Then, here we go.
Marathon Memory Number 1: The friendship. Oh, hands down, this makes the list. I was so blessed to be able to make this marathon trip with two good friends and fellow marathoners, Tammy and Teresa. This was Teresa’s second marathon and Tammy’s fourth. Not only were they incredibly supportive, but they were also knowledgeable and helped me know what to expect. It also helped to know that they would be at the end waiting for me! (They both PR’ed in this race, by the way! Go Tammy and Teresa!) It also didn’t hurt to have buddies to hit up the Cheesecake Factory with after the race! Mmmmmm.
Me, Teresa, and Tammy – before and after
I would have stood up for this picture, but…. 
Marathon Memory Number 2: The awesome bling! Okay, I know I’m not going in chronological order here. I didn’t get the bling until the end of the race. But hey, it was important enough to throw in here at the top of the list, okay? This race had so much cool stuff for the finishers! I got a finisher’s hat, a finisher’s fleece blanket, and a butt-kickin’ medal. Oh, and a bagel.
Marathon Memory Number 3: The funniest sign I’ve ever seen in a race. Now, granted, I’ve never done a marathon before this one. But I’ve done quite a few races and have seen quite a few signs. Not to mention the signs I’ve seen online. But the dude that was waiting for us at the bottom of a hill during this race takes the cake. Now, mind you, it was 26 degrees or so at the beginning of this race, and it didn’t warm up a whole heck of a lot throughout the day. But there, standing at the bottom of a hill that I had decided to just walk through, was a man…buck naked…holding a, um, strategically placed sign that said “Run faster, or I’m dropping the sign.” Oh my gosh, that was the funniest thing ever! I managed to pick up the pace a tad, believe it or not, and ran up the whole hill. How about that? So, thank you, naked stranger man. Job well done. (Okay – and don’t tell Richard – but I actually peeked when I ran by and he wasn’t actually naked. False advertising….)
Starting line
Marathon Memory Number 4: The feeling at the starting line. Oh, there is nothing like it, my friends. Knowing that all that hard work and daydreaming had lead me to that moment. Standing there amongst thousands of other people that I thought I’d never stand among. It was quite humbling. And oh so awesome.
Marathon Memory Number 5: The running. Of course. The running. I wouldn’t have been there if I didn’t love to run, right? That feeling of soaring along…knowing that I was about to go a distance I’d never gone before…ahhh. It’s hard to explain if you’re not a runner. Just trust me. Unchartered territory is a beautiful thing to a runner. And I knew that’s where I was headed.
Marathon Memory Number 6: Mile 20. Although I was already tired and starting to hurt, Mile 20 was such a beautiful sight. My longest run to-date up to that point had been a 20-mile training run. I knew that the moment I stepped across that 20 mile point, I was somewhere I had never been before. And that was really cool.
Marathon Memory Number 7: The pain. Oh, the pain. Hey, I didn’t say that every moment I remembered from the marathon would be pleasant, did I? I will never tell the story of my first marathon without remembering that pain. Oh my gosh! When all those marathon articles I read said, “Be prepared, it’s gonna hurt,” by golly, they meant it. It did. It was intense. See this picture? Obviously not the most flattering picture of me there ever was. But it’s definitely the most real. You can even see it in my hands…they are balled into fists of determination. Honestly, I love this picture. It shows what it took to keep putting one foot in front of the other and get myself to that finish line. My legs did not want to continue, but my heart did. And this picture shows that.
Marathon Memory Number 8: The unbelievable amount of support. Oh my gosh…I couldn’t believe all of the texts, Facebook messages and posts, phone calls, etc. that I received with regard to the marathon. It was amazing how many of you had my back through this. And believe me, I thought of all of you as I ran. I got a message from my mom during the race telling me how proud she was of me. From my fantastic husband saying the same and how much he loved and believed in me. From my teenage daughter who…okay, time to drop the sentimentality here…who said, “Have fun running and stuff.” Hey, you take what you can get, right? I got a phone call from my dad after the race checking on me and making sure I had made it okay, and telling me he was proud of me. This is what life is all about really. Knowing that family and friends are there with you through it all. I never felt that as much as I felt it while I was running that race. In fact, I broke each mile down to pick a particular person in my life and thank God for them. That’s what got me through some of those last miles, believe me.
About 0.05 away from the finish line
Marathon Memory Number 9: Seeing the finish line. Oh, people, let me tell you – there is nothing like that. Knowing that the pain was so close to being over! Knowing that I was about to join the less than 1% of people that know what it’s like to run a 26.2-mile race. (After seeing this crowd, I still just can’t fathom how that statistic can be right, but I guess it is! There was a moment after the race when I was explaining the feelings I was having to Richard and he commented, “There are very few people in this world who really know how you feel right now.” Wow. Such a humbling thought.)
And finally, here we are. The end of the list. (See? That didn’t take too long, did it?) 😉
The final most important memory about my first full marathon experience? The thing that I won’t ever forget for as long as I live?
Marathon Memory Number 10: That feeling I got when I crossed the finish line. That feeling that even I, a blabbermouth writer, can’t seem to put into the right words. That knowing, deep down in my soul, that I did not give up. That I set my mind to do something so extremely difficult…so unbelievably hard…and that I actually succeeded at it. That feeling of pride in myself.
As I crossed that finish line, I left so many things behind on that marathon course. Past heartbreaks, mistakes, health problems, self-doubt, insecurities….you name it. At that moment in time, as I crossed that finish line, I was one thing, and one thing only.
I was a marathoner.
Anthem Richmond Marathon finish line – 5:28:12
So thank you, readers. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. Thank you for reading through this and for humoring me as I went through the memories that this experience has left me with. Thank you for letting me show you how very much this means to me and how it has literally changed my life.
Now, you go out and find something that gives you this feeling, okay? I mean it. Go. Right now.
Life is way too short not to have moments like this one.
***
“I’ve learned that finishing a marathon isn’t just an athletic achievement. It’s a state of mind; a state of mind that says anything is possible.”
– John Hanc
“The highest happiness on earth is the happiness of marriage.”
—William Lyon Phelps
So, remember that post I wrote a while back called “I do?” Well, guess what?
I did!
Our family
On November 1, 2014, Richard and I were married. FINALLY!
I wanted to wait until I got the professional pics back to write a blog about our wedding, but I just decided that I couldn’t wait anymore. There were so many magical moments that I don’t want to let slip out of my memory. I figured I better get them out here before they’re lost…I’m not a spring chicken anymore, ya know. So, here goes!
Well, first of all, for those of you who aren’t local, or who weren’t present, November 1 dawned with a slight surprise. After mid-week temps in the 70s, November 1 decided to be the day that the first snow fell. And we’re not talking flurries here, people. We’re talking Snow. With a capital S. Wanna see?
Our house on Wedding Day
Yep, we got a good 3-4 inches of snow overnight, and it was still falling. Now, mind you, our wedding was to be held right here at our house. In our living room. We couldn’t help but wonder how this was going to affect the turnout, but honestly we weren’t all that worried. We had a very small wedding planned that consisted of mostly family and a few close friends…it was the reception later that might be affected by the weather. As for the wedding, most of the people who were going to be present were already safe and secure inside our home anyway, so we were good to go! No worries, right?
And then comes the call from the hairdresser.
“Um, yeah, the weather is a little too rough for me. I’m not going to make it.”
*Sigh* So, I’m not the “hire a hair dresser” type anyway, but I was actually looking forward to this. This lady had offered to come to our house and get myself and my daughter and my step-daughter (awww…”step-daughter”…yay!) ready so that it would be at least one less stressor on my plate. So, I hadn’t done anything to “plan” any kind of hairstyle for any of us, because it didn’t have to be my problem. Ha…wrong. Welcome to “this is your problem now.” Crap!
My niece Emaree…stepping in as hairdresser extraordinaire
No worries, though. With family surrounding me, we had this covered. First, up stepped my five-year-old niece Emaree. She got me all brushed out and ready to go. What more could a bride need, right? 😉 And then, after she had us all tangle-free, her mom – my saintly sister Cathy – stepped in and finished the job. Thank God for sisters! I think we ladies probably looked even better than we would have if the hairdresser would have shown up, don’t you? 
(Thank you, Cathy!!!)
So, hairstyle catastrophe averted, it was on to the ceremony.
After my fantastic husband-to-be drove to town to pick up our photographer and bring her to the house to keep her from having to drive in the snow, everyone was officially present and accounted for, including our three impromptu flower girls. Impromptu flower girls, you ask? Well, let’s just say that we had three little girls that were bound and determined that a wedding is just not a wedding without flower girls.
Bridal party…WITH flower girls
So, my wonderful aunt Stacey made a last minute dash to Walmart for some flower petals and…voila! Flower girls.
(Hey, if the ladies aren’t happy….no one is happy. Capisce?)
[Thank you, Kenzie, Emaree, and Elise….you girls were perfect!!!]
Fireplace
The ceremony was short and simple, but not without that special Edmondson sentimentality thrown in here and there. For one thing, we got married in the very spot that Richard’s mother and late father were married in – in front of the fireplace in the living room.
Photo display
At the beginning of the ceremony, Richard lit a candle in front of a picture of his father to honor his memory and make him a part of our special day. Also, together with the picture of Richard’s father, we placed photos in the window of all of the weddings and receptions before ours that took place in and around this home. (Ours was definitely not the first union of love in this spot, and I have a feeling it won’t be the last.)
The Edmondson/Halsey family
After many tears were shed and rings were exchanged, we then joined as a family to participate in a sand ceremony, with each of us adding our own color sand to the glass jar representing the joining of our two families. And there it was….the deed was done. Our new family was officially complete.
Then, a few hours later, it was on to the reception! Here’s where we were surprised by the turnout. Apparently the weather didn’t stop many people, we had a house FULL of love and laughter that evening. So many people dropped by to celebrate with us…and oh, the food! So much food!
Speaking of food…I almost forgot to mention our wedding “cake!” Instead of going with a cake, we decided to do cupcakes. I had that in my head from the beginning (seemed less formal somehow and that was kind of the theme to this whole thing) so an idea hit me one day. One of our little theatre buddies, Rowan (age 14), is quite the little baker. Oh, who am I kidding? We’re talking child prodigy here, people. For real. So, I asked Richard a few months ago how he would feel about us hiring a 14-year-old as our wedding cupcake maker. His response? He absolutely loved the idea. And the finished result?
Cupcake tower a la Rowan
WOW!
The kid’s got some mad skillz, yo. We were thrilled….and so were our guests!
Oh, there were just so many wonderful, unique, amazing things that happened as part of my wedding day, that I just don’t know how to list them all in one blog post. From a winter-storm related power outage during the reception (yep…that happened), to my former theatre director giving me “notes” after the wedding (yep…that happened too…”Okay, next time a little less weepy and a little more in control of your emotions”…), this wedding had it all, my friends. Memories, galore.
And then some.
If you were a part of my wedding day, near or far, I thank you, from the bottom of my heart. We felt the love that day, for sure. Not only the massive amount of love that we felt for each other, but the outpouring of love from our friends and family as well. We have never felt so honored.
It was the perfect day…winter storm and all.
Check back for another blog post after we get our professional photos back! I want to give mad props to my friend and photographer Bobbi Jo in that post and showcase her and her excellent work. I can’t wait to show you!
Thank you for traveling through my wedding day with me by reading this blog. I can’t wait to come back and read this over and over throughout the years and remember how very happy I was on November 1, 2014. And how very “right” it all felt.
Here’s to many, many years of bliss!
My love
MissyRambles 