ReThinking Advent – Day 3: Peace

I’m amending this post because it’s appropriate to do so.  Anything I could say about this man would be a profound understatement.  So, I’ll just say that my prayer is that I could impact ONE other person’s life the way that this man has impacted the world.

Rest in Peace, Mr. Mandela

I therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love,  eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.

Ephesians 4:1-3

Surprised by Grace

As you may have heard, we had quite a destructive storm come through the DC area last night. I’ve never experienced anything like it. Thanks to Capital Weather Gang, we had a heads up and they aren’t the guys who unnecessarily freak out. So, I knew when they said that this one was no joke, it was no joke. The storm came in and out quickly, but we lost power immediately. When we got up this morning, it looked like a tornado had gone through our neighborhood. We realized how lucky we were when we saw trees on house and cars. Still, we had no power and it was evident that it would not be coming on anytime soon.




We decided to try and find a hotel. Unfortunately, the PGA AT&T Golf Tournament is taking place at Congressional Golf Course, which is right near our house and all of the hotels were full. We also have a dog, so we needed to find a place that was pet friendly. It turned out not to be easy to find a place that also had power. We decided to go for breakfast because our son was “famished”. I’ve never actually heard Mr. Picky Pants express hunger this way, so I knew we had a situation on our hands. We sat at breakfast and tried to figure out what to do. We considered sucking it up, but the heat index was expected to be near 110 today. I was nearing tears when we got a text from a guy that Lloyd knows from transportation circles. He said that they were leaving town for a week this afternoon and that we were welcome to stay at their house…which has power.

We were just beside ourselves. Lloyd has known this guy for a few years via work connections. I had met him once but his wife had never met us at all. And here they were, offering their home to us. Honestly, if I’d made a list of all of the people in the area that we know who would have reached out to us in that way, they probably wouldn’t have bee very high on the list. Not because they aren’t great people, but because we don’t have that kind of relationship with them….or so I thought.

This morning, as we were trying to formulate a plan, our 12 year old remarked that he wasn’t worried…he knew God would provide. And, we knew that too. But, we didn’t expect this kind of provision. And it reminded us that God is always going ahead of us, preparing a way. I am guilty of acknowledging that God is in control and still trying to be in control myself. That’s not to say that we don’t need to do leg work. We do. We can’t just sit sweltering in our house and expecting God to walk in the front door and give us the solution. But, in our diligence, we need to allow God to do what he’s going to do.

In the midst of all of this, we had found a hotel. It had availability for a couple of nights and took dogs. And we had the means to pay for it although it wasn’t something that was in our budget. I will admit that while I will gladly open my doors to anyone (and was upset that I didn’t have power and couldn’t help others!), I often struggle with accepting help from others. It’s probably a pride issue. Ok, it’s definitely a pride issue. And I had to fight the urge to just say “we’ve got it handled”. It would have been fine.

But I would not have been so surprised by grace. I would not have had the opportunity to get to know these people who are obviously worth knowing better. And I wouldn’t have the opportunity to say to our son “yes…you were right. God provided for us” — and he did it in such an unexpected way that we can only point to His grace. It wasn’t because of anything that we did.

And that is the gospel.

My view of the Occupy DC raid

This past Saturday, the National Park Police moved in on the Occupy DC camp at McPherson Square to “further enforce no camping rules”.  Jake just happens to have a class in a nearby building on Saturday mornings, so I wandered down to the park to see what was going on.

First some diclosure:  I have not been an active supporter of the Occupy movement.  However, I do consider myself part of the 99% that they represent.  I was excited when they first began protesting in October, but as the months have gone by, I just have never really understood what their goals are.  And, this is often the complaint I hear from people.  A few weeks ago, I was getting lunch in a restaurant adjacent to McPherson Square and a group of people from the camp were meeting.  I overheard them talking about what their message was — and the responses were all over the place.  That was nearly 4 months after they had arrived in DC.

During that time though, from my standpoint, they have acted with civility and have generally been peaceful in their protests.  And, despite an appearance of not having a cohesive message (which, by the way, I know they would disagree with me on),  what I do know is that there is a general unrest about the gap between the rich and everyone else in this country and that it trickles down into all areas of our lives. They are frustrated that people are accepting this as the status quo.  And, I agree with these sentiments.  I also am a strong believer in our First Amendment rights, so I while I have not been an active supporter of the movement, I would classify myself as a sympathizer.

Piles of clothing and bedding taken from tents could be seen throughout the park.

It gets complicated though when you start looking at how these long term gatherings begin impacting the surroundings.  McPherson Square had recently undergone a lengthy makeover, costing nearly half a million dollars. The funds came from the federal stimulus package which directed money toward renovating National Parks nationwide.  The park was beautiful, with new sidewalks and benches, grass and flowers.  Now, after 4 months of people camping there, it is gross.  And, DC residents are angry about it.  I heard a guy, who was arguing with protesters yesterday make a comment that they were destroying “my  city”.  This was met with outcry as even I thought to myself that nobody can lay claim to this city.  This is our nation’s capital.  It’s everyone’s city.

What frustrates Occupy DC folks — and me, as I stood by watching — is that the rules have changed.  While camping in the park has never been allowed, Park Police have been cautious about citing anyone because of First Amendment Rights.  They argue that the core of the Occupiers First Amendment activity is that they occupythe site.  In other words, “occupying” the land in question is a core aspect of the group’s message.  The

Onlookers observing the raid on McPherson Square

occupation is in itself an act of expression and is therefore protected by the First Amendment. The Supreme Court disagreed though (based on a decision in a similar 1984 case, Clark v. Community for Creative Nonviolence) and the Occupiers were notified that the NPS would begin enforcing the no camping rules at the park.  They claimed it would not be an eviction and that tents  would still be allowed as long as nobody was sleeping in them.

So, early Saturday morning, NPS police moved in to enforce those rules.  I was not on the scene until about 10, so there had been a good 5 hours of activity before I got there.  The streets around the park were closed off, but we were allowed to walk.  Fences had been erected around the park, but at the time I was there, you were still allowed to walk around inside the park.  There were piles of bedding, garbage and other items around the park and a group of people in hazmat suits were going through each tent.  That seemed a little excessive to me, but reports are that there were dead mice and rats and other hazerdous material.  What was upsetting to the protesters was that there were empty tents that were being taken down.  Protesters felt they had been lied to and from where I was standing, it seemed they had been.  Additionally, there were police in riot gear who were stationed around the park, which also seemed excessive.  I know that they need to protect the public and try to keep the peace, but these people do not have a history of violence.  On the other hand, it seemed to me that there were a handful of protestors who were doing their best to encite police.  They were screaming profanities in their faces and calling them obsenaties as they stood stone-faced. There were a couple of times that arguments broke out between protestors and onlookers and the police would quietly move in those directions, but as long as I was there, they did not interfere.


In the hour and a half that I was on the scene, I did feel tensions begin to escalate, mostly on behalf of the protestors who were, I believe, justifiably frustrated with how this was all playing out.

One of the more tense moments occured when an onlooker began heckling the occupiers.  He said he considered himself a “1-percenter” although he clearly wasn’t.  He simply had a different political point of view.  The thing is, the Occupy DC people are smart.  If you are going to engage in a debate with them, you better be as smart and as quick or you will look like an idiot.  This guy sure did.

After I left and the day wore on, things began to deteriorate.  There were several arrests and a police officer was taken to the hospital after having a brick thrown in his face.

I don’t know what happens to the movement in DC now.  The Occupy folks sounded determined to continue, but I’m not sure how much more patience the public has.  But, it is clear to me that they are driven by a sense of justice and that they care about this country and the American people.  And each other.

Project 366

Project 365 is a movement in which people exercise self-discipline by commiting to do something every day.  For many, it means they take and post a picture every day for a year.  This is a leap year, so there are actualy 366 days in the year.  I’m not promising that I’ll post a picture every day — or that I’ll even post a picture I took that day, but I will be posting more pictures because I think the saying is true — a pictures is worth a thousand words.  I have found that by looking at other people’s pictures, you begin to see the world in different ways.

This is one of my favorite pictures that I’ve ever taken.  I often joke that I’m late for work because I saw a picture that I just had to take.  This was taken on one of those days.  It was a beautiful, autumn morning.  The sun was coming up and the fog was dancing on the Potomac River.  I am standing in Georgetown Waterfront Park, looking toward Arlington, VA.

Fog on the Potomac

Ain’t that America

Today is the one year anniversary of our arrival in Maryland. I decided to re-post the chronicle of our cross-country journey. I migrated this from the original blog that I started — and I will probably repost several of the entries from that blog over here from time to time.  It was fun for me to read back through this.  I hope you enjoy it as well.

The last few months have been a whirlwind. The Reader’s Digest version is that Lloyd accepted a job in Washington DC and we have moved to the ‘burbs (!) in Maryland. Honestly the area of Maryland that we’re in is still semi urban, but a little less so than we like.
Each day, I have a million different thought about what it is like to live here. Instead of bombarding my Facebook and Twitter friends with all of these random thoughts as they come to mind, I decided to try writing it all down. I’ll start with the 5 day journey across our great country. We passed through 12 states, most of which I had never been to but had an opinion about anyway (that falls into the same category as “I was a great parent before I had kids”).

Day One: Washington State
We left Olympia at around 4pm after watching Jake perform in the final CTE performance of the summer. The three of us piled into the Ford Focus, along with the dog and the cat and hit the road. First destination: Spokane.

It was a beautiful, summery day and Mt Rainier was majestic against the blue Northwest sky. Up to this point, the summer had been…well, rather winter-like. Either Washington was bidding us its finest adieu or it was mocking us. And, if you know me well, you know that I’m a glass half empty kind of person, so I am sure it was the latter.
We avoided a near collision on the 512 (note: brakes don’t work as fast when you are hauling a trailer), but soon settled into a groove as we traveled over the mountains. We stopped at a rest area as the full moon rose over the wheat fields as the sun was setting. There it goes again…mocking us. I started to feel a tinge of sadness, but driving across Eastern Washington bought back memories of two young college students who had fallen in love and decided to make a go of it no matter what. We had the attitude that nothing could stop us…and here we were, 18 years later, on a grand adventure. It was exactly where we were supposed to be.
We spent the night in Spokane that night….learned that hotels often have a platform-like contraption under the bed and it’s an excellent hiding place for a cat. We also discovered that making room for the dog’s crate would be a necessity as her snoring kept me up much of the night.
Day Two: Idaho and Montana – Destination: Sheridan, WY
We learned on “How the States Got Their Shapes” that the Idaho panhandle used to be part of Washington and was given up in part because of the unruly gold diggers — and the folks in Montana and Washington didn’t want to deal with them, so they gave it to Idaho. In my opinion, this was a huge mistake because it is, without question, the most beautiful part of Idaho. Driving through Coeur D’Alene in the early morning was absolutely breathtaking. I looked forward to the trip through Montana though…I’d never been and I just knew that there would be part of me that wanted to just stop and stay forever.

Boy, was I wrong.

I was completely underwhelmed by Big Sky Country. I realize that I was on the interstate and there is much more of Montana to see, but it just wasn’t what I expected. I guess I expected Colorado, which wasn’t fair at all, given that a piece of my heart will always be in Colorado and nothing could ever measure up.

I will say that the funniest thing I saw on the trip was in Montana:

We also learned about Our Lady of the Rockies and that there are no trees in Big Timber.

Montana is a big state though and the last two hours were excruciating. We tried to play “I See Something”, but there was nothing to see. We couldn’t even find a house. I was so happy when we crossed into Wyoming that I wanted to get out of the car and do a happy dance.

Maybe it’s because I’m married to a transportation dude, but I tend to notice the way that roads change when you cross into a different county or state. A perfect example is when you cross into King County from Pierce County and voila!…the freeway is smoother and there are suddenly HOV lanes. Well, the interstate in that part of Wyoming is pink. Mr. Transportation explained that the chip seal used to resurface roadways is often made from natural resources — and Wyoming has an abundance of pink granite.

We spent Night 2 in a surprisingly nice and comfortable Best Western in Sheridan. It was a really nice little town — reminded me of Cortez, CO (where I grew up). I didn’t want to stay forever, but I can certainly see why people do.

Day 3 – Wyoming, South Dakota Destination: Sioux Falls
We left fairly early in the morning and after a very mediocre cup of coffee, I started to become aware that I hadn’t seen a Starbucks since we left Spokane. Didn’t mean they weren’t there…just that they weren’t on every corner. We were on our way to Mt. Rushmore for the only “touristy” part of our trek. The rest of Wyoming was beautiful and the public radio station was excellent. We left 1-90 to enter Mt Rushmore from the western Black Hills via Highway 16. This was where I saw the funniest political sign of the trip.

Sheriff Dudinski sounds like he should be on Reno 911, doesn’t he?

The Black Hills were beautiful and I tried not to think about how it came to be that we acquired the land to build a monument such as Mt. Rushmore. But, it was amazing to see the sculpture. We didn’t have as much time as we would have liked and it was hot — thus making it necessary for one of us to stay at the car with the animals and trade-off touring the park. I really wish the National Park Service was more pet friendly — and at least provide areas of access within the parks that are shaded and have water. But, I digress. I have to say that Mt. Rushmore was *smaller* than I pictured it. Most pictures that you see are close up and make it seem enormous. And, I don’t mean to take anything away from how awesome it was when I say that. It just struck me in the same way that it struck me how ENORMOUS the Lincoln Memorial seemed the first time I saw it. The following pictures offer an example of what I’m talking about. I was under the impression that you could actually get as close as the first picture.


As we left Mt. Rushmore, we made our way back to I-90 via Keystone and Lloyd remarked that he was glad we hadn’t entered this way as it would have somehow cheapened the experience. Keystone is a strange little tourist town that reminded me of Gatlinburg, TN. I don’t get why you need go-karts to entertain yourself when you are surrounded by such natural beauty. But, that’s just me. And, I’m probably wrong because Keystone appears to do quite well without me and my opinion. I will say though that a great retirement project would be to open up a pet sitting operation here.

We were getting hungry, but decided to wait another hour or so until we got to Wall. Everyone (including signs that had started to appear a good 100 miles back) told us that we had to stop at Wall Drug. So that was next on our list. Oh. My. Goodness. I don’t even know where to begin with that place. To be fair, it’s typical for me to decide I don’t like something just because everyone else does. I’m contrary that way. I can see why people go there, but I also think it was a giant waste of our time and I’ll just leave it at that.

Back on I-90….remember what I said about the state of roads being different everywhere? Well, in South Dakota, interstate is awful. They have lots of signs about construction and the freeway was often reduced to one lane for miles on end, but we never actually saw any work being done. It was really annoying. In fact, I was starting to get annoyed with the entire day when I passed a sign that read “Entering Central Time Zone”. WHHHHAAAAAAAAAT?! I was certain that we would not enter Central Time Zone until we left South Dakota (even though Jake tried to tell me otherwise). So, this excruciatingly long day just got longer. We finally arrived in Sioux Falls and were treated to the BEST hotel swimming pool ever at the Best Western Ramkota Hotel. I seriously considered just staying here another day, but we didn’t have time. Sioux Falls is another really nice town. I wish we could have spent some time exploring.

Day 4 – Minnesota, Wisconsin, Illinois, Indiana Destination: South Bend
The states got much closer together after South Dakota. It felt like we were making more progress by ticking off more states in a day. Minnesota was beautiful. It was here though that we happened upon the most ill-advised business name I can ever recall:


Clearly, I did not take this picture — I wasn’t quick enough with the camera, but a quick google search showed that I’m not the only one who was entertained by it. And, it’s one of those things that you have to see in order to get the full impact.

One of the things I loved about Minnesota was the wind farms. They are just amazing to see.

This is one of those instances where I can so clearly see that God is the greatest scientist. He gave us the wind and the brains to figure out how to use it to sustain a healthier planet. It may be cheesy, but it really gives me goose bumps to think about.

Minnesota is also the state where I realized how much corn is in this country.


One of my favorite parts of the trip was crossing the Mississippi River. It was almost like a turning point. We were definitely not in the West anymore, which was a little bit bittersweet for this West Coast girl. I was driving as we drove into Wisconsin and John Denver was on the iPod, reminding me of growing up in Colorado and more specifically, my grandfather. He’s been gone for almost 18 years and there is not a day that goes by that I don’t think about him and miss him. This particular song, “On the Road” brought back a very vivid personal memory of me with my grandfather — and it also was very appropriate to our journey at the moment. I wondered what my grandfather would think of all of this and if he would be proud of me.

It was about this point in the trip when I realized that ever since we had crossed into roughly South Dakota that there was an abundance of Go-Kart rentals places and water parks. No commentary there…just an observation.

When I was planning the trip, it never occurred to me to think of when we might arrive in Chicago…the biggest city we had encountered so far (our route didn’t even take us through Seattle). And, we managed to hit the Windy City right at rush hour. And, the traffic was just as horrendous as you would imagine. Lloyd was driving — thank goodness — and he did a great job of maneuvering in the traffic and staying calm. I would have been freaking out. I could not wait to get to South Bend.

Which brings us to South Bend.

First of all, the time changes just before you get there. So, once again, we had an hour tacked on to an already long day. So it was almost 9pm and we were all hungry. I have a friend who lives there and she recommended a place to eat, so I typed the address into Google maps and it took us a very long and convoluted way. And when we got there, the restaurant was closed. For three weeks. Oh yeah…it’s a college town in July. So, we decided to just go to the hotel and figure out food later. Again, we typed the address into Google maps and it took us to the wrong part of town…in every sense of the word. We were lost and my dear, sweet husband stopped to ask directions. Which is great, right? I mean, most men don’t like to ask for directions. No. Not in this part of town with bars on windows while we are driving a car with out-of-state plates and hauling a U-Haul trailer. I really thought this was where it was all going to end. By the grace of God, we made it to our hotel, which still didn’t look like the greatest part of town, but it was clean and there weren’t bars on the windows so we decided to just make a go of it. Lloyd went out to get some food and Jake and I started to settle in. That was when the baby next door started screaming. I promptly went and asked for another room, which I was graciously granted. Lloyd came back with dinner from a Greek/barbeque joint (I know, right?) and since Mr. Picky Pants won’t eat much, Jake got a hot dog. Within minutes of finishing it, he was complaining of not feeling good and spend the night running to and from the bathroom.

On the way out-of-town the next morning, we stopped at Walgreen’s for 3 things that spell nightmare for a road trip: Saltines, Ginger Ale and Children’s Immodium. We also finally found a Starbucks. Honestly, I’m not a huge fan of Starbucks coffee. But, there is something really comforting about walking in and feeling like you could be “home”. I think that’s the secret of places like Starbucks and McDonald’s…there’s something to be said for consistency.

When we were leaving, I googled South Bend and found comments like “South Bend is like Detroit without the charm”. Who knew? To be fair, the little bit we saw of the Notre Dame campus was beautiful, but I recommend sticking to campus and the immediate surrounding neighborhoods if you ever find the occasion to go there.

Day 5: Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania and Maryland
This is where we were on turnpikes almost the entire way, so all we experienced were the rest areas. And, they aren’t really “rest areas” like I have ever experienced. They are like mini strip malls with gas stations and food courts. It’s really bizarre, but efficient. There’s nothing worse than exiting a freeway to get gas and having to drive a mile. I’m sure there’s some kind of sociological experiment that you could conduct at these places – you see all walks of life. I mean everyone has basic travel needs — gas, bathroom, food….but in places where you have more choices there is probably a rhyme and reason to why people choose what they choose on the road. Here, you have everyone all lumped together. The strangest thing I witnessed was a customer telling the guy at Sbarro that the slices were too big and that if he ate a whole slice he would fall asleep on the road, so he was going to go to McDonald’s instead. Oooohkay.

We crossed into PA and a friend of my on Facebook said that the Pennsylvania Turnpike was the most depressing road in America. He was right. I can’t really put my finger on why though. We had a bathroom emergency (remember the hotdog?) and didn’t know when the next rest stop was (although PA doesn’t have the same fancy rest areas that Ohio has). We managed to find an exit but could not find a gas station. Instead we stopped at a Super 8 Motel which looked practically deserted. When we drove up, there was a woman (the manager, perhaps?) and a maintenance man sitting on the bench outside smoking. They were very gracious and said we could use the bathroom. The woman guided Jake and I up a flight of back stairs and entered a room that had been completely cleared out, save for a few chairs lined up against the wall. She opened the bathroom door and said to me “you probably want to go in with him”. That sort of freaked me out, but I opted to just wait outside the door. When we were leaving, we saw a woman in the parking lot pushing a shopping cart and there were no cars to be seen anywhere. We wondered where she came from and where she was going. I told Lloyd I felt like we were at the Bates Motel.

It felt as though we drove downhill the entire way through PA. The turnpike was very narrow and had a lot of construction going on (once again, Lloyd drove and I was very glad). At one point, I looked up the elevation only to find the highest elevation in the whole state was 3200 ft. But, down we went. As we approached the Maryland state line, there was a sense of anticipation in all of us…and as we passed the “Maryland Welcomes You” sign, the iPod was playing “Hello Goodbye” by the Beatles. So fitting (and not at all planned).


So here we are. In a new and different place, experiencing new and different things. We plan to explore the area as much as we can. I plan to use this blog to chronicle those experiences or just the random thoughts that I have. Thanks for sharing the journey with us.

The difference a year makes

One year ago today, we set out on one of the biggest adventures of our lives.  We are no strangers to change.  We have always gone where the wind blew us and in the 18 years we’ve been married, the longest time we’d ever stayed at one address was 5 years.  But, this was a huge change.  We’d been in the Olympia area for almost 9 years – it was the only home that Jake had ever known.  Lloyd had been with the Department of Transportation for that long as well.  We had family nearby, friends that were like family, a fantastic neighborhood and a church that we loved.  We had traditions.  In short, we had a great life and it would have been easy to stay in Olympia forever.  But, when the job opportunity presented itself, Lloyd and I knew that it was something we couldn’t pass up. 

When we were first married Lloyd was a newspaper reporter.  He worked at a group of weekly newspapers in Kitsap County.  He’s a good writer and was a fantastic reporter.  He had what it took to go far and I always pictured him working for a paper like the Washington Post or the New York Times.  We’d been married about 2 years when he was offered job at the daily newspaper in Twin Falls, Idaho.  A daily newspaper.  It was the mother lode for a young reporter.  I loved Twin Falls and thought that it was a no brainer to move there.  We flew out for the interview and got the grand tour.  Then, when we returned…I don’t know what happened, but I got cold feet.  I told him I didn’t want to go and the short version of the story is that we didn’t go.  We ended up selling everything we owned and moving to Phoenix where life certainly took a very different path than it would have if we’d moved to Twin Falls.  Deep in my heart, I knew that Lloyd always regretted not taking that job.  And, I regretted it too because I knew that if I hadn’t said anything, we would have gone.  So, when this job came up — I knew that this was another moment like that.  A once in a lifetime chance.  Our realtor came over and gave us the grim news that there was no way we could sell our house without it costing us tens of thousands of dollars.  But, we decided that we weren’t going to let that be the reason we didn’t go.  We would rent the house.

People would ask me how I knew that we were doing the right thing and the only thing I could say was that there was literally no opposition.  Every time we began to hit a speed bump, solutions just fell into our lap.  Doors flew open right and left.  Everything just fell into place.  And, on July 24, 2010, we set out on our cross country trip — with no idea what to expect. 

One year later — there are certainly things that I miss.  Our friends and family top the list, of course. We miss our neighborhood and our house. I miss the beauty of the Pacific Northwest — the mountains and the water.  I miss the traditions that we had — the comfort of just knowing the area. We’ve lived in the Northwest longer than we’ve ever lived anywhere and it’s home.  But, we are slowly beginning to feel at home here. 

We have family here — Lloyd’s cousin, who he had not seen in 25 years, lives just 15 minutes away.  We have loved building a relationship with her and her husband.  Lloyd loves his job.  Jake has had amazing opportunities — he’s thriving in school and has a wonderful piano teacher. We’ve found a church that we love and are building relationships with people that I know will always be part of our lives.  We’ve been able to do things that I never thought we would do.  We have a wonderful tenant — who happens to be a dear friend of ours — so we hardly worry about our house.  We are probably less stressed than we have been in years.  And life is good.

It’s amazing the difference a year makes.

Running with a purpose

I’ve been trying to be a runner for about 10 years.  It all started when we lived in LA and I saw an ad for a training program for the Honolulu Marathon.  I had never run a day in my life but decided to sign up for it because I really needed something to distract me from the fact that I really didn’t like living in La-La Land.  The program I ran with required that you raise money for Aids Project Los Angeles.  It wasn’t a cause near and dear to my heart, but it was as good a cause as any, in my opinion, and I set about raising the $3000 needed to get me to Honolulu.  Many of you reading this today helped me reach that goal and again, I thank you.  It was a wonderful experience…I met amazing people and I really believe it helped me keep my sanity over the 6 months that I trained.  But, when I crossed that finish line, I swore I would never do it again!

I kept that promise until a few years ago when I got the itch again.  The Rock and Roll Marathon was coming to Seattle and I really wanted to run the inaugural race.  So, I signed up and went about training by myself.  I was faithful with my runs but didn’t train on hills, which was a big mistake.  I ended up breaking my foot during the run and by some miracle — and the encouragement of my dear friend Janet, I crossed the finish line and got my medal.  I spent the next several months in a boot and was told I would likely never run long distances again.  That was fine with me. The truth is that I don’t really enjoy running long distances — I really just like finishing the race and getting the medal!

Then my husband got the bug and started running.  He’s a natural runner (read:  fast) and I am too self conscious to run with him, but we had an idea to run the Arizona Rock n Roll 1/2 marathon relay as a celebration of my 40th birthday.  We had a great plan — he would run the long leg (8-1/2 miles) and I would run the remaining 4-1/2.  Easy enough, right?  What we didn’t fully think through was that I would be entering the race with sub-8 minute mile runners.  This proved to be disastrous as I tried to pace with them and was exhausted after the first mile.  Lloyd joined me on the course and we finished it together but it was hot and it was hard and it wasn’t much fun.

I had set a goal to run a race a month during 2011. After that race,  I wished I could take back the public announcement that I’d made.  I skipped February and then ran the St. Patrick’s Day 8K in DC in March.  It was fun, but I continued to be frustrated at how slow I am — and my foot still hurts.  April came and went — and then so did May (although, to be fair, I was signed up for the Warrior Dash and ended up having to skip it because Jake had a piano recital that day).  I joined a running group for beginners and realized, sort of at the last minute, that I was signed up to run the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure on June 4th. I remember thinking it would be fun and I could wear lots of pink (those of you who know me know that it’s sort of my signature color).   We have had a very busy week and last night I was exhausted.  I didn’t want to do it, but drug myself out of bed this morning at 5:45 and got ready to go.

As I walked from the Metro toward the start line, I was looking around at people who made up the crowd of 40,000.  Right in front of me walked a mother and daughter, hand in hand.

It’s hard to read, but the girl’s “In Celebration of” sign says “my mom”.  Mom is wearing the Breast Cancer Survivor pink shirt.  Tears just started to fall down my cheeks.  The emotion completely caught me by surprise as I looked around and saw all of the pink shirts.  There were women of all ages wearing these shirts. Each one of them has a personal story of sadness, pain, fear, happiness, triumph and hope – probably all on a daily basis.  And with each one of them was a husband, boyfriend, sister, friend, child…there to support them.

As I ran the 3.2 miles, instead of taking in the sights of DC, which always leave me in awe….I took in the signs on the backs of the runners and walkers.  And, it was even more awe-inspiring than the history and architecture that surrounded me.  It is the people that make up the city that really matter.  I took note of the names and prayed for them as I ran through the streets.  I thought about my friends who’ve struggled as their mothers have fought this terrible disease.  I thought about my great-aunt, who died several years ago.  I thought about my friend Mia who was my age when she died, leaving behind a husband and two young kids.  I’ll never forget the day she told me she had cancer.  I remember exactly where I was standing and the look on her face and the words that I could not find to respond as I just hugged her.  It was devastating — and yet so inspiring to watch her walk through the rest of her life on this earth with such grace and dignity and love.

When I was about 1/2 mile from the finish line, I saw one of those pink signs on the ground.  I had to stop and pick it up.  I thought about how I would feel if I got to the finish line and the sign bearing the name of the person who inspired me to run was nowhere to be found.

Ms. Betty Mitchell, I don’t know you — but somebody loved you enough to put your name on a sign and run for you.  It was a privilege to take it across the finish line on their behalf.

So today, I didn’t care that I’m slow or that my foot still hurts.  None of that compares, not even a little bit, to the struggle that the women fighting breast cancer face.

One final note:  Even though today was about breast cancer – we are all painfully aware that it isn’t the only form of cancer that takes our loved ones from us.  As I ran, I thought of my grandfathers.  My dear friend Julie.  And of course, sweet Dylan.

And as I was walking back to the Metro through Judiciary Square, I was reminded of that one more time.

Thanks for inspiring me, buddy.