Shine the Light

Today marks ten years since my Grandpa Eddie died. For those of us he left behind, we remember him in little ways every day: found pennies, cardinal sightings, and yellow VW Beetles all remind me of him. My Grandma Alice has been a widow for a decade – and while grief is a part of who she is now, she continues to embrace life, visiting family, going for walks, reading, sewing, and telling my grandpa’s story.

Forty years ago this month, my Grandpa George died. I remember few things about him, other than stories my parents have told about him. My Grandma Irene lived another thirty-six years after Grandpa passed, and I’m still impressed at the strength and dedication she showed in her hard-working farm life. She continued to help her family, doing chores, writing beautifully-written letters, going to church, and carefully documenting the weather.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to know more and more women who have lost their husbands. Widowhood is a title no woman wants. Grief is a condition none of us wish to face. And yet, more and more of my family, friends, and co-workers have had to take on this role.

At work, my team’s unofficial ambassador, Susana, has always been full of life, despite life’s challenges. It was a joy to see her find love with a man named Randy, and to hear the adventures they had together in their marriage. When she lost Randy in 2016, those of us who knew her would have given anything to ease the pain she felt. Today, more than a year after Randy’s passing, Susana is as full of life and love as ever, though now it’s tinged with a bittersweet flavor. Every trip she takes or experience she has, Susana carries Randy with her.

Among my running friends, I know at least three women who have lost their spouses. Today, one of those friends ran a race in New Orleans to honor her husband, Lee. Lee would have turned 75 years old this weekend. Deb, his wife, has shared with me what a wonderful man he was, and I love to hear her talk about him and the light he brought to the world. When he passed away last year, the community surrounding Lee and Deb in Colorado talked a lot about “shining the light” – to live as Lee did, curious and engaged, kind and full of life.

Back home in Minnesota,  I see Lee and Deb’s story mirroring much of my friend Chris’ stories of her late husband, Karl. Karl called himself a “ripple in Stillwater,” and he was – smart and funny and politically aware, a music lover who surrounded himself with loyal friends who became like a second family. Chris herself has an incredible spirit, and she’s quick to remind us all to “celebrate everything” and “never let your fire go out.” Although her grief over Karl and her love for him are part of who she is, Chris’ life is still rich with travel and music, friends and family.

Within the past couple of weeks, another running friend, Sally, asked us to remember her late husband, Todd, on what would have been his 50th birthday. That day, she encouraged us all to be generous, kind, and loving to those around us in memory of Todd and the light he brought to those around him. It’s incredible to watch Sally and their three children grow and change while carrying Todd in their hearts.

I marvel at these women, at how they have faced unimaginable loss and kept on living. I cannot fathom what they feel, and I cannot take their loss from them. But I can walk with them and honor the memory of those men they’ve lost by listening to their stories. In some way, then, they live on, inspiring us to fill our days with the things we love.

Friday night is family movie night at our house, and this week we watched the Disney/Pixar movie, Coco. The movie is about a little Mexican boy who visits the Land of the Dead on Day of the Dead. He meets his great-great-grandfather and learns that even the spirits in the Land of the Dead face a “final death” once there is no one alive to remember them. Even though it’s a kids’ movie, Coco handles the beliefs around Day of the Dead with cultural sensitivity, and it was a great way for our whole family to learn about the holiday.

Coco also got me thinking about the family I’ve lost, and how our family lives on in their absence. We mourn their loss, but we also tell their stories and keep them alive, carrying them in our hearts wherever we go. And we honor their lives by making our lives rich while we’re here, so others can tell our stories when we’re gone.

Shining the Light for Lee Miller, Eddie Anderson, Randy Winton, Karl Bremer, George Tusa, and Todd DiMartini.

Staying True to My Pace

I have been a runner for six years. In that time, I’ve run with a number of people who became my friends – often called “BRFs” (Best Running Friends). When I started running, having BRFs to run the same intervals and pace as me was a huge motivator to keep me moving – I knew that there were others going through the same things I was. We would all feel the same relief on walk intervals; we would all want to quit before the run interval was over (but none of us wanted to be the first to give up). We would use our coach’s line to encourage each other: “you can do anything for one more minute!”

Having the company of my BRFs got me through dozens – maybe even hundreds – of training runs.

As we settled into our running routines, though, we found that we all had different paces. I couldn’t always keep up with some of my BRFs – and some of them couldn’t always match my pace, either. Over time, we allowed ourselves to fall into our own paces and to run at the rate that fit our speed and our bodies’ needs that day.

Luckily, we have always talked about listening to our bodies at Moms on the Run. We don’t compare or compete. We are there to support each other where we each are at – sometimes we feel strong, and sometimes we don’t. The one thing these women have shown me is that they can achieve their goals, and by watching them, I know that I can achieve my goals, too.

My biggest running goal yet was when I decided to run the Twin Cities Marathon in 2016. My longest runs for the marathon were 20, 23, and 26 miles long – which meant hours and hours on my feet. Many of my BRFs showed up to run portions of those runs with me, and it made the miles easier to get through. When it came time to run the actual marathon, I ran it alone – and I’ve never been more grateful for the friends who helped me realize I could achieve my goal before I ever got to the starting line.

Being part of a running group like Moms on the Run has given me a community to come back to again and again – they know me there. We start and end our run together, and in the middle, sometimes we stick together and sometimes we drift apart. Last weekend, the temperatures were miserably cold, and as the coach leading Polar Club, one of my goals was to keep our group together. I knew that facing the cold was going to be tough. We needed each other that day, and so even when we started to drift apart, I asked if we could stick by one another until we finished, and we did.

I’m currently training for a 10-mile race in April, and that often means setting out to run on my own. My BRFs are following their own training plans, or using the winter to focus on other fitness goals besides running. They can’t be next to me every step of the way. Some of my best running friends have found that running long distances is not what their bodies need right now, and so they’re turning to yoga or CrossFit or shorter distances. We all have to do what is right for ourselves in the moment. There’s no judgment that my way or their way is better – it’s simply what we need right now.

Running can be a very solitary experience, but it doesn’t have to be. I love that I can still start and end my runs with my friends. I listen to music that they introduced me to, carry their voices in my head, or tread the same trails I’ve run with them before. Through those things, they are still there for me with every step.

I Woke Up Like This

Most mornings, before I go to work, I wake up my 8-year-old son to tell him goodbye and wish him a good day. On Wednesday when I did this, he snuffled in his usual sleepy way, then sat straight up in bed and said, “I’m in a good mood today.” The unexpectedness of that statement made me laugh out loud. Often he’ll jump right into his thoughts on Roblox or Ninjago, but rapid assessment of his mood is not usually the first thing he covers.

Since he made his proclamation on Wednesday, I’ve thought a lot about how I wake up. Do I start my days declaring that I’m in a good mood? No. And why not? Do I know what the day will hold? Not really. And yet, I very easily slip into Stress Mode. Not dread, but not eager anticipation, either. What do I need to do today? What time is my first meeting? Where do I need to be?

My son helped me realize that instead of starting out with stress, I want to choose my mood by re-directing my thoughts from stress to love. From fear to peace. From drudgery to delight.

A very smart man advised me last summer to start my days off by asking What would love do? I like that idea, and I try to live by it. There are a couple more questions I’d like to add, though: Who can I help? and How can I have fun today? That last question reminds me again of the approach my 8-year-old takes to life: he’s looking for fun. And he looks to give and receive love. Simple.

One New Year’s practice I’ve seen written about lately is the setting of intention by choosing a word for the year. This past week, I think I’ve found my word for 2018: Potential. Not only do I want to spend this year exploring my own potential, I also want to embrace the potential that each day holds for me. How will I show love? Who can I help? How can I have fun?

The other night, the movie Titanic was on television, and I’m always charmed by the speech Jack Dawson gives when he’s invited to dinner with the first class passengers: “I love waking up in the morning not knowing what’s gonna happen, or who I’m gonna meet, where I’m gonna wind up. … I figure life’s a gift and I don’t intend on wasting it. You don’t know what hand you’re gonna get dealt next. You learn to take life as it comes at you… to make each day count.”

Today was a milestone day in my family for another reason: my son was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes four years ago. I wrote a Facebook post this morning about how I’m thankful for our support network, for insurance coverage, and for the insulin that keeps him alive every day. Talk about making each day count! The fact that my son has a chronic disease makes me very aware that our lives don’t come with a guarantee. We don’t know how many days we have, but no matter how many we get, we’re lucky for every last one. My son’s disposition is the icing on the cake – there’s magic in his very existence.

And really, isn’t there magic in all of our existences? Whether we’re hard-wired into that fact, or it’s a little tougher to suss out the realization, our lives are remarkable. The combination of events that led to any one of us being born are extraordinary. By extension of that, each day is a little sliver of magic. How dare we forget? Yet we do – we all do.

I still think it’s a worthwhile goal to find the wonder in every day, though. Another of my favorite movies, About Time, is the story of a man who has the ability to travel back in time to re-experience any moment of his life. Over the course of the movie, he time-travels many times, to sometimes hilarious, sometimes disastrous, and sometimes successful results. In the end (spoiler alert!), he admits that “I think I’ve learned the final lesson from my travels in time; … [t]he truth is I now don’t travel back at all, not even for the day. I just try to live every day as if I’ve deliberately come back to this one day, to enjoy it, as if it was the full final day of my extraordinary, ordinary life.”

Perhaps it’s a cliche to say that every day is a gift. To be honest, some of them we’d like to return, right? But the potential is always there for something special. Whether it’s a grand adventure or just realizing that there’s air in our lungs and the chance to try again tomorrow, every day has its purpose. I’m looking forward to tomorrow’s already.

 

Unafraid of the Dark

As the sun sets at 4:30 p.m. these days, many of us long for daylight and feel a little down. Days are short, temperatures are cold, and hibernation sounds more and more appealing. While traditions often tell us to embrace the hustle of December – to eat, drink, and be merry – we often feel like doing anything but.

It’s interesting that my birthday falls on one of the darkest days of the year. I consider myself an open, loving, light-filled person, and yet the lack of light this time of year inevitably makes me melancholy. Even in the best of circumstances, I get a little cynical and think that all of the holiday festivity is only a show – that despite being surrounded by people, most of us feel an existential loneliness.

I confided to a friend recently that I struggle to resolve the darkness with my feelings of needing to fight against it, for my spirit to be light. My confidant shared with me an insightful chapter from a book called Kitchen Table Wisdom by Rachel Naomi Remen. Remen writes about being a therapist to people undergoing treatment for cancer, among whom there was a common theme of a fight against darkness. After Remen encouraged her patients to explore their perceptions of darkness, they found that the darkness did not harm them, but instead was a place they must go in order to heal.

Despite the cycle of moving from light into darkness and back again, the dark still holds power every year. Could it be that we give it more power by fighting against it? One point that Remen makes in her books is that “Darkness is a condition of the beginning. The body first comes into being in darkness. It is nurtured, as a seed, in darkness. Some people may find their healing in remembering the beginning.”

What does that mean? Remember the beginning – the darkness was a place to grow. We needed it down to the very cells of our being. Right now, the earth needs the darkness, too, so that living things can rest and grow again in the spring. Are humans exempt from this need? I don’t think so.

A cynic might still dismiss this as psychobabble – there are people who have “embraced the darkness” and ended up committing suicide. I don’t equate embracing darkness with abandoning hope, however – in fact, just the opposite. The darkness can be restorative fuel for the next season. We have to understand that both the darkness and the light have a natural end, and they will continue to follow each other.

Viewed in its natural context, the image of healing, refueling and rebuilding in the dark is compelling – I want to use this time to re-establish who I am, what I think, how I feel, and how I approach the world. Light-filled days are often full of life and activity. In the dark, we can take the time to slow down, to contemplate, to get very quiet in our hearts and minds.

How will you use the darkness to heal yourself? I intend to read books, talk to my kids, meditate, drink tea, breathe, write, walk or run. Look at the stars. Heal. And get ready for another season of life.

If the darkness you’re facing feels insurmountable, don’t suffer alone. You are not alone. Please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255, 24 hours a day. You can also chat online with them here.

Race Recap: Twin Cities 10 Mile

Last Sunday was one of the big races of my running year: the Twin Cities 10 Mile. I look at it as a bookend to a season that began with the Stillwater Half Marathon in May. The weekend kicked off with a visit to my favorite race expo with my friend Karla. We shopped, collected free swag, and hung around to hear Dimity McDowell and Sarah Bowen Shea give their Another Mother Runner advice for racing. One of the things that struck me from their talk this time around was a running mantra they offered: “I am here now.” The point of that mantra is to focus on being in the moment, not worried about what’s to come, nor about what is in the past. I’ve heard a similar mantra that says “Run the mile you’re in.” I love that one, too, and I told myself to be in the moment for the 10 Mile this time around.

Dimity, me, SBS, Karla. BAMRs all!

Saturday, I talked my family into going down to the State Capitol grounds for the TC Family Events – I had signed us up for the Family One Mile. Since the whole weekend feels like a holiday to me, I have to share it with my family. My son likes to run the whole mile, so I go with him and just try to keep up (8-year-olds are FAST), while Dave and our daughter opt to walk the mile and enjoy the sights and people-watching. Before and after the race, there are fun things for the family to do, plus free samples and swag. We’re already talking about next year and whether it’s finally time for all of us to make the jump up to the 5K distance – the race that started this whole journey for me in the first place!

The fam, before the race

Following a beautiful day out Saturday, I was ready for Sunday. After a 5 a.m. text from Karla, letting me know that she and Beth, our Stillwater MOTR franchise owner, were both sick and wouldn’t be able to race that day, I headed out to meet a vanload of my other teammates. We gathered at the park and piled into Jessica’s van. I navigated us to the Sears parking lot in St. Paul and we caught a shuttle bus over to U.S. Bank Stadium in Minneapolis. We hit the porta-potties a couple times, checked our bags into sweats check, and found our corrals.

Ugh, it’s early. Why do we do this???

All week, the forecast had called for rain, but Saturday, it sounded as if it’d be clear on race morning. Based on that optimistic forecast, I didn’t bring a visor or a garbage bag. So of course, it started to rain pretty hard as we waited in the start corral for the race to begin. It continued to rain for the first couple of miles of the race, but then the rain ended and the skies remained gray, which was just fine with me because then it stayed cool. Temps were perfect for running.

In the start corral with some of my MOTR friends, pre-downpour

I felt like I went out a little fast – typical for me in nearly every race I’ve ever run. I joked with my friends in the start corral, saying, “Now go out slow… remember, you don’t need to pass anyone.” They thought I was talking to them until I said, “Dang it, Becky! Save something for the rest of the race,” which made them laugh. For the first few miles, I could see my friend Sarah just ahead of me, but I kept reminding myself that I didn’t need to catch her – I had to run my own race. Nevertheless, seeing her ahead of me kept me going.

Once we were on the bridge crossing the Mississippi, I reminded myself of my goal for the day: to enjoy this race. I wasn’t particularly focused on time, but I kept pushing while reminding myself to notice the trees along the river valley as we crossed. Some years, there’s already a lot of color for the TCM weekend, but this year, things were still pretty green. When I reached the ALARC wall, which is mile 20 of the marathon but just mile 4 for us 10-milers, I enjoyed the blasting music and the cheers from the crowd. When I hit the dreaded hills after crossing into St. Paul, I distracted myself by following the Brooks Energy Zone footstep decals that were pasted on the ground. By the time I got to the University of St. Thomas, I was happy to put those hills behind me and enjoy the gradual incline of Summit Avenue.

Big cheers from me at one of the MOTR cheer zones

Summit is where I normally encounter people I know, and this year was no different. There were quite a few Moms on the Run cheering zones, but my favorite was the one where I saw Beth Jensen, the owner of the Shoreview and White Bear Lake MOTR chapters, and Cathy Schmit, one of my new MOTR and HeartStrides friends this year. And near the end of the race, at about 9 miles, I was giving myself a pep talk to kick it into the finish when I heard someone yell “Becky!” I turned around to see that I had passed my friend John and his son. I had to turn back for a quick hug and a high five, and that helped energize me towards the finish.

As I rounded the last turn on Summit, the bells of the St. Paul Cathedral were pealing, and my eyes filled with tears. I realized how good I felt from this race, versus last year at the marathon where I really had to dig deep at this same point to even keep running. I also remembered something that my friend Mike Ewaldt said a long time ago: “You are so lucky you can run.” I told myself to burn up everything I had left to get to the finish line, and I felt like I was flying. I was so happy to cross the finish line, and once again, this race weekend has earned its top spot in my heart.

Proud 10 Mile finishers

Now it’s on to the next event – the Door County Fall 50! This will be the third year in a row that I’ve participated in this beautiful relay in Wisconsin. I’m looking forward to a few days away to relax and run. It’ll be a fun way to celebrate our fall season and look forward to running with Polar Club starting in November.

Good luck to all of you out there running your season-end races, or those of you looking forward to some winter running! (Especially my Colorado friends, who are set to get snow tonight.) Enjoy every mile!

The Gift of Discomfort

I have a Fitbit. I wear it all the time, day and night, and take it off only to shower. My goal for every day is 10,000 steps. Since I work Monday through Friday, I try to take a walk break occasionally while I’m at work. Not only has this helped me reach my step goal, it has also kept me feeling happier and more productive at work.

Often when I go out on walks, I break a sweat. I don’t think it’s too bad (you’d have to ask my cubicle neighbors about the B.O. level to be certain), but it’s enough that I’ll turn on my desk fan to cool off when I get back to my cube.

I recently was pondering how I used to not want to sweat at all. Oh sure, I’d go on walks from time to time, but sweating? Gross. Working out? Not my style. Running for an hour or more, until my workout clothes were soaked? Ew, no.

Somewhere along the line, that has changed. Sure, sweat isn’t the most pleasant thing in the world, but I’m washable. When I walk at work, I am capable of cooling off again, and I shower and wear deodorant every day, so I’m probably not too repulsive after my walks. And when I work out? Well hey, if I’m going to get out and exercise, I might as well make it worth my time and get sweaty.

This summer, we’ve had a number of rainy days. Whenever there’s rain in the forecast, I get this type of warning on Facebook:

“Stay dry today”? Why, Facebook?

Please. Sure, some days the rain is heavy enough that I can’t get out unless I’ve got a change of clothes and a dry pair of shoes along with me. Most rainy days, though? There are periods where the rain lets up, or there’s just a light mist or drizzle. When that happens, you can bet I’m going to get outside and get some steps in. I’m not going to let a few puddles and rain drops slow me down.

When I get out on those rainy days, I’m glad I did. I get to smell the ozone in the air, the raindrops on hot asphalt, and the worm-y, fresh dirt smell of the earth, even in the middle of the city. I’d miss all those smells if I had taken Facebook’s advice to “stay dry.”

On a recent Saturday, I started my long run at about 9:30 a.m. By the time I finished, the summer sun had brought out ALL the grasshoppers. I hate grasshoppers, a feeling that traces back to growing up on a farm and spraying the bean fields in the summer. We’d ride the “bean bar” to spray weeds, and while we did, grasshoppers would land on my legs with their sticky little feet.

Example of a bean bar. Way less fun than it looks. And those bare legs? Grasshopper landing zones.

On my recent long run, it was me and the grasshoppers out on the trails of Minnesota and the fields of Wisconsin. At one point, a particularly large grasshopper jumped so high that it hit my face. Arrggh! I was less than thrilled, but I kept right on running, because it was a beautiful day and I had miles to put in and sunshine to soak up.

When I think about it, I realize that the advice to “stay dry,” my former aversion to sweating, my distaste for grasshoppers – all of those things could keep me from being active. Why should they, though? Life is messy. Life is full of discomfort. But we’re washable, and the grasshoppers – whether literal or metaphorical – won’t kill us.

Discomfort is surmountable – in fact, it must be tolerated. Isn’t that what life is all about, anyway? No one wants to experience pain or inconvenience, but when we do, we’re getting stronger or learning something from the experience. From something as small as breaking a sweat on a walk to a huge life lesson like learning to have a richer appreciation of the outdoors, discomfort and inconvenience are a gift.

This week, I’m going to work on looking at the things that make my life uncomfortable. Rather than try to avoid those things, I’m going to look at them through a new lens: how am I getting stronger and wiser by enduring the discomfort? I will work to realize that my life is richer because I’m doing things that aren’t easy. Traffic jam? Kids bickering? Tough hill on my run? Bring it on – I can handle it. And I’ll be better because I did.

Facing Change

This week, the big news in Stillwater is that a new bridge opened. Social media has been flooded all week with pictures of people crossing the old bridge linking our historic downtown with Wisconsin across the river, then with the ribbon-cutting ceremony for the new bridge on Wednesday, and finally with pictures and video of the new bridge Wednesday night and into the weekend.

The news is big because the old bridge was a lift bridge built in 1931. The bridge’s lift schedule grows more frequent in the summertime, when boat traffic increases. Regardless of the time of year, vehicle traffic waiting to cross has caused headaches for commuters, pedestrians, and business owners. Politically, the building of the bridge was a subject of controversy for decades, but at some point the debate ended and planning for the bridge began. People who had fought for years to save the protected riverway were overruled by the relentless march of development and the need to alleviate congestion in downtown.

The Stillwater Lift Bridge, on her last night of vehicle traffic. Photo by Carl Bohacek in Pictures of Stillwater

I sympathized with the environmentalists who wanted to prevent the bridge to save the river. And yet, I realized that the bridge was now about to be a fact. Somewhere during the bridge’s construction, I stopped my grumbling and saw that I might appreciate the peace that would come to downtown once the new bridge was in place. This past week, I watched the retirement of the lift bridge to vehicle and pedestrian traffic, and I looked forward to checking out the new St. Croix Crossing bridge.

With the opening of the St. Croix Crossing just south of downtown, there is no longer a need for a lift schedule, because the bridge is high enough that boats can pass below it. It’s also wide enough to accommodate vehicle traffic better than the old bridge could. Congestion is alleviated downtown. Traffic flows freely between the two states. And the bridge offers a new view of the river valley and downtown that we didn’t have before.

The new St. Croix Crossing bridge. Photo by St. Croix Crossing

In a couple of years, after some much-needed restoration, the lift bridge will re-open for pedestrian and bike traffic. When that happens, it will complete a 5-mile loop that spans from the lift bridge to the new bridge on both the Minnesota and Wisconsin sides of the river. In the meantime, the Minnesota side of the loop and the portion of that trail on the new bridge are ready to enjoy.

With that in mind, I set out on Saturday morning to see how it felt to run on the St. Croix Crossing bridge. I parked about a half-mile away and ran to the bridge, where I encountered dozens of bicyclists, walkers, and runners who had the same idea. As I crossed the bridge and came back, I considered the changes that were in store for all of us who will use the bridge. How will we assimilate this new route into our lives? Even as I ran, I caught myself thinking about “the next time I drive over the lift bridge,” because the reality that I never will again hasn’t completely taken hold in my mind yet.

Me on the St. Croix Crossing bridge with a random photo-taking photobomber

It’s like this with any change, large or small – when it first happens, it’s a shock, and we don’t always adapt to our new reality quickly. We fall back into thinking about things the way we always have. Our old habits still want to take over. Change is possible, though – at times, change must occur, and it’s out of our control. Other times, we can choose to make the change, or to accept a change that is out of our control.

One thing we can control when handling change is our attitude. We can fight it, complain about it, and cry about it – or we can accept it, make peace with it, and adjust to it.

In terms of my own life, I’ve gone through phases where I fought change and phases where I embraced it. With running and taking care of my health, changes have come gradually enough that I have mostly adjusted to them without argument or incident. I’ve endured setbacks and injuries and my own terrible habits, but I am a different person than I was five years ago. I changed. And I will change again – physically, mentally, emotionally, and professionally – as the months and years go by, because I am alive. I hope that I’ll continue to grow as a person until they scatter my ashes to the wind and the water.

I also see people around me going through great changes and embracing them, for the most part – even when it’s hard. I have some very brave friends and family to face the challenges they are facing, and I find inspiration in their resilience at being able to endure some of the very worst circumstances of their lives and still come out with an optimistic outlook.

A book I’ve been reading recently has taught me a very important lesson: no matter what happens in our lives, we can handle it. Being afraid of change does us no favors, because change is inevitable. The best we can do is remind ourselves that we are capable of whatever life throws at us and we will get through it. We can survive the storm and thrive on the other side of it.

As I crossed the St. Croix bridge yet again tonight, I took another step towards integrating it as a regular route in my life. The bridge is a part of my new reality, just as other paths I take are also my reality. While the road to get here may have had some bumps in it, some debates and missteps, here we are. Let’s enjoy the rest of the trip.

Evening at St. Croix Crossing. Photo by Karen Anderson in Pictures of Stillwater

Goodbye, July

It’s hard to believe that tomorrow is the last day of July – this month has flown by! Between celebrating Independence Day, my daughter’s birthday, and 31 Days of Skirt Sports, life has been full.

Thanks to Independence Day being on a weekday this year, I got to run a 5K on a Tuesday! My BRF (Best Running Friend) Karla and I had signed up for the Red, White and Boom 5K as part of the Twin Cities in Motion MNy Summit Challenge. The race starts and ends in Father Hennepin Bluff Park, making a loop and finishing with the race’s home stretch on the Stone Arch Bridge, one of the most beautiful places in Minneapolis.

For this race, I had the chance to use a set of my new Race Dots, so I was looking forward to seeing if they were as useful as they seemed to be. What are Race Dots? They’re these super-powerful little magnets that are specially made to be used by runners and cyclists to hold their race bibs. The advantage Race Dots have over the ubiquitous safety pins is that they won’t rip holes in your clothes. I’ve had plenty of nice tech shirts and even a pair of running capris ruined because of those darn safety pins!

Two of my three sets of Race Dots. And STICKERS, too!

I brought along a set of Race Dots for me and a set for Karla to use, too. I had read the instructions thoroughly before using them, and frankly, I was a little concerned because the instructions made them sound like they might be almost impossible to pry apart or tricky to position. In reality, anyone who’s played with strong magnets before will know what to expect – you just have to get the magnet’s polarity aligned with the back and they work fine.

For this race, since my shirt had printing on it that I didn’t want to cover up, I opted to wear my bib on my skirt (Skirt Sports, of course). The pretty “dots” shown in the photo above went on the outside of my skirt and on top of my race bib, where the holes of the bib were. Then the back of each Race Dot is simply a small metal ring/washer-type piece of metal that went inside my skirt and aligned with the front of the dot to hold it in place.

Karla, me, and Cassie before the race. I swear, my bib was not this crooked!

The Race Dots worked great, except for one small glitch that happened pretty early in the 5K: I looked down to find that one of the Race Dots on a top corner of my bib had stuck to one of the Race Dots on bottom corner of my bib, essentially folding my bib in half. Oops! I pulled the two sets of magnets apart and I was good to go – they didn’t do that again for the rest of the race. If I had worn the race dots on my shirt or a tighter-fitting piece of clothing, I probably wouldn’t have had that problem, but because my skirt was loose, it easily folded up and allowed the Race Dots to stick together. (Thank goodness for those shorties built into my skirt so I didn’t have any “wardrobe malfunctions”!)

Your Proud Race Dots Ambassador!

As for the rest of the month, I’ve been having a good time posting photos for Skirt Sports’ “#31DaysofSkirtSports” social media event on Instagram and Facebook. It’s been inspiring to see all the things that my Skirt sisters (aka the other Skirt Sports ambassadors) are posting for their challenges – some of the photos get really creative, and some are downright impressive. A fair number of ambassadors are triathletes, which I admire – I don’t think I could ever swim or bike competitively, but never say never, right? As with all things Skirt, it’s great to see Real Women Move – no matter their age, shape, or size, these women are out there killing it, going after their goals and their dreams.

This month has been filled with family, friends, and fun, and I’m already looking forward to August. It’ll be a big month for Moms on the Run events, from paddleboarding and kayaking with my Stillwater MOTR friends, to the season-end banquet and races the last weekend of the month. I’m sure I’ll find a whole new batch of reasons to feel inspired from all that August has in store.

Guest Post: Living Outside the Zoo: Escaping and Preventing Further Abuse

As a Moms on the Run Coach, Heart Strides Advocate, and Skirt Sports Ambassador, I’ve had the chance to meet many, many phenomenal women. In June, I met the wonderful, eloquent Mindy Condon, who writes a blog at http://runningtowintheprize.weebly.com .

Not only is Mindy a kind friend and single mom to four boys, she has also overcome considerable challenges in life and shown what a strong woman she is.

Over the course of a couple days at our Skirt Sports retreat, Mindy shared a part of her story with me – and also over that weekend, we discussed writing guest posts on each other’s blogs.

Today, I’m honored to present Mindy’s entry, about a very serious subject for many women. We hope this helps bring perspective to other women who may be facing similar circumstances. 

Thank you, Mindy! And enjoy, readers. – Becky

About a year after my ex and I had separated, I was in counseling. I had been dealing with the continuous verbal and written abuse from my ex. When he couldn’t talk to me, he would send me long, long emails or texts. He was the world’s meanest pen pal. At one point as I was telling my counselor about this, she told me to imagine myself hovering above the two of us as he was spewing all this garbage. Imagine thinking, “Oh, it’s so sad that he’s still trying the same old things to get to me. It’s so sad that he keeps doing this.” Then, I was to imagine a glass partition between the two of us, so that as he was continuing to speak/spew, that all of those words were just bouncing off, not getting to me.

When she said “glass partition” I immediately envisioned being at the zoo at the gorilla exhibit. The gorilla exhibit has a very, very thick glass partition between the gorillas and the people. I envisioned being there, on one side of the glass, the safe side. I pictured him, trapped, on the inside of the enclosure, as a huge silverback gorilla, pounding his fists against his chest, bellowing, throwing feces everywhere, even at the glass.

For years, years, I lived on the inside of the gorilla enclosure. For years I was trapped with that bellowing, feces-throwing animal. When you live on the inside of the gorilla enclosure, you live in fear of what that gorilla is going to do to you. You will do WHATEVER IT TAKES to stay safe, even if you can’t get out.

We are not meant to live inside the gorilla enclosure. Not at all. Even though I felt trapped, there was a door. The gorilla sure as heck wasn’t going to let me out, but I was able to finally see it and escape.

Now I live on the outside, but not even near the ‘zoo.’ I take periodic trips to the ‘zoo’. I still have to deal with my ex. He is still trapped. I can see him, standing there, pounding his fists against his chest, bellowing. It can be startling to be standing near the window, witnessing this futile display of angry energy, but now I can recognize it for what it is: an attempt to scare and control me. Only, the thing is, he doesn’t get to do those things anymore. I can look at him and think, “oh, that’s so sad. He’s still trying those same tricks,” and then I can leave the zoo.

Sports Bra Squad

Back in May, I saw a photo online of a woman named Kelly Roberts. This was the photo:

Kelly had written, “When will you be happy? That’s the question I need answered … Strength doesn’t look a certain way. It feels a certain way. Repeat after me, ‘This is what strength looks like.’ THAT is what you should be telling yourself EVERY SINGLE TIME you look in the mirror.

“Join the #SportsBraSquad.

“Here’s how– June 24th — world wide #SportsBraSquad day.

“You have 1 month to find the courage to love your body for all it’s capable of. You’re already the best version of you possible because you’re the only version of you possible. Every step you take is a step towards an even stronger you. But start with where you’re at right now. Love that. Love that enough to want to fight for a stronger tomorrow.

“You’re strong. You’re beautiful. You’re a badass.”

Suffice it to say, I was FIRED UP. Heck YES, Girlfriend. You are speaking my language. Plus, I loved that in the photo, Kelly’s midsection looked somewhat similar to how mine looks – like an average, un-airbrushed woman who enjoys eating AND being strong equally. And look at her expression! Throwing her fist in the air and celebrating her own strength! She’s proud of what she’s doing! As she damn well should be.

I started thinking. No, scratch that. To tell the truth, I didn’t think – I went with my gut feeling, which was, I have got to be a part of this. I’ve written about my body image struggles before – in our society, and in my own experience, I’ve spent most of my life thinking I need to be ashamed of my body and hide it, especially if it’s not perfect. Running has helped, but it seems like it will always be a struggle.

Remember those Special K commercials from the 80’s? The ones with the woman who so happily pointed out that you “Can’t pinch an inch on me”? This was the kind of crap I saw on TV when I was EIGHT YEARS OLD. It’s taken me 33 years to realize and be able to say, Screw you, Special K. You CAN pinch SEVERAL inches on me, and IT DOESN’T MATTER. I’m strong the way I am. My squishy midsection, my cellulite, and the spider veins on my legs are part of who I am. They haven’t limited me from running a marathon, from loving my family and friends, or from living a very full life.

So I was in for Global Sports Bra Squad Day. I posted about it and I knew that a handful of my friends from Moms on the Run were willing to participate, too. Knowing that I wouldn’t be alone helped. According to Kelly Roberts’ blog, the idea of Sports Bra Squad Day was to gather with like-minded women (whether in person or virtually), ditch our shirts, and run in just our sports bras. To recognize that where we’re at right now – showing up, working hard, and getting stronger – is a beautiful thing.

I have to admit that as June 24 grew closer, I got anxious. When it’s a month away, showing up half naked to a public park doesn’t seem so scary. When it’s a week or a day away, it gets a little more nerve-wracking. Should I start doing sit-ups every day? Buckle down into a strict diet? In the end, I didn’t do either of those things, mostly because I didn’t want to make the effort. The night before, my coach, Niki, sent me a text and asked me if I’d talk a little bit at class the next morning about why I wanted to observe Sports Bra Squad Day. I’d love to, I told her.

Usually on a late June day in Minnesota, you don’t have to worry about being too cold, but as luck would have it, the morning of June 24th was chilly – the temperature was in the 50’s and there was a good breeze blowing when I got to the park. Regardless, I ditched my shirt and threw it in my bag so that the other ladies would see that yes, we are really going through with this. We had about 14 women show up for class that morning, and everyone knew that it was completely optional to run in a sports bra. Half of the class chose to, half didn’t – and it was great.

How did it feel to run in a sports bra? Some ladies talked about feeling a little like one of those dreams where you show up at school without your pants on. For me, though, it felt fine. I didn’t worry about how I looked or what people thought. I focused on the workout and on connecting with the women around me, just like I would any other morning. I would do it again, no question – especially on unbearably hot days when I know that I need to fit in a workout.

Stillwater Moms on the Run looking strong

When I got home from class, I went through the photos we’d taken at class, proud that we had been a part of this day. What meant just as much was seeing posts from other friends who struck out on their own, at races or around their neighborhoods, wearing only sports bras.

Sports Bra Squad Day taught me, yet again, that it’s best not to be limited by my fears or apprehensions. It’s fine to dive into something without waiting for conditions to be perfect. Running in just a sports bra was something I’ve wondered about for five years, and now I know I can do it and it’s no big deal. It’s more important to go out and LIVE than to fret about our imperfections. Or, as Sarah Silverman put it,

As women, we have to realize that our value doesn’t come from what our bodies look like, but rather from what they can do. Whether that’s walking a mile, running a marathon, hugging a friend, or feeding the poor, we are so much more than how we look.

You’re not perfect, but don’t let that stop you – go out and live right now.