Sunday, September 18, 2011

Can you kill yourself by running?

Last weekend I ran a duathalon. It was a 2 mile run, 15 mile bike ride, and then a 5k run. Now I am not a runner, or at least I don't run very fast when it comes to distance. I was a sprinter, or am, or was in high school, does that make you a sprinter for the rest of your life?


I finished in 2 hours 1 minute. I finished 4th in my age group.
ok, so there were only 4 people in my age group, and I finished last out of everyone, but my goal wasn't to place, it was to finish. Now my friend Jo, she kicked my ass.

How much so? She finished 20 minutes before I did. Like I said, she kicked my ass.

Well, after killing myself with that race, I signed up for another. This one is a 3 mile run, 12 mile bike, and another 3 mile run. OUCH...

2 weeks to train means 2 weeks to get my body running faster. What am I thinking? I am thinking that by running, I am killing myself obviously.

Today I ran 2 miles. I am sore from yesterdays workout, but forced myself out there anyway. Dripping with sweat, legs screaming for mercy, I ask myself again:

What the hell am I thinking? Now I can't just say "I just want to finish." Now I have to say "I need to finish faster than 2 hours."

oh boy.

I need a Mrs. Goodman's cake at the finish line. That will make me run faster.

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Problems with clothes

Every night after I put my daughter to sleep, I get the boys ready and 1, then 2 everyone is in bed.

I take deep breaths and enjoy the quiet then go about doing what needs to get done.

After about an hour or two I go and check on the kids. Boys asleep, Girl...naked. So as she sleeps I put back on her diaper, and her pajamas.

Go back about an hour or two later. Boys doing fine, all covered up, Girl...naked, lights on. Again, I turn the light out and dress her. This can either happen once or several times. I don't know what it is, but she doesn't like clothes.

Sometimes during the day I look at her and have to ask her where all her clothes are.

I hope she outgrows this...and fast.

Monday, September 12, 2011

Michael D. Mullan

I have been thinking about this post for the past couple of days. I hope it makes as much sense on "paper" as it does in my head.

3 years ago this coming December Rick and I went to New York for the very first time in our lives. We did typical tourist things: Looking out from the empire state building, going to times square, checking out the HUGE christmas tree, Central Park. The one thing I mentioned that I wanted to do was the one thing that ended up being the best thing we did while we were there. We went down to ground zero.

By that time it looked like a large construction site, as we know now what was being built, between the new building and memorial. As we tried to get to a high point to see over the fence into the construction site, we happened upon a sign that said "9/11 museum" with an arrow pointing to our left.

We looked at each other and said "why not"

What we found was a tiny museum about events from that day and how the towers were built to how people were rebuilding after. A separate cost to the museum was a tour. We were told it would be a 2 hour tour, and we didn't hesitate to pay for the tour. The time the tour started gave us an hour to check out the museum and let me tell you, I have never felt so much silence in a museum. As people read everything and took in all the objects on display, it was overwhelming, heartbreaking, and yet made you proud of who we are as a country that we could stand up after something like that and rebuild.

Onto our tour.
It began with the two tour guides introducing themselves and having us introduce ourselves. It was a small group and I loved the fact that everyone in the group was from somewhere other than the United States. Rick and I were the only ones from the USA in the group. We walked around the corner and stood infront of a wall memorial to the firefighters that had died. (It is a beautiful piece of artwork so I recommend you see it) I noticed as our 1st guide was talking about the wall our second guide,a woman, had gone and kissed her hand then touched a name. I would later find out whose name she was kissing.

The guides of these tours are people who are volunteers and were directly related to the 9/11 attacks. Joe was a firefighter and had been on the ground that day directing ambulances and firetrucks where to park while saving lives. He was also buried by the first tower collapse, pulled from the rubble, put on a boat to go across the water to a jersey hospital and while on the boat, buried under rubble by the second tower collapse. A story he told us after the history of the towers. He was a great speaker and had a wonderful presence about him.

We heard the whole story of the twin towers. How they were born, why they were built the way they were, who scaled them, how they scaled them, and what happened while they were being scaled, how they looked inside, the 93' bombing (which Joe was at also) to the collapse and his own story. At this point the woman stepped in to tell her story. Her son was a firefighter who died that day in the marriott hotel when the towers collapsed.

Michael D. Mullan. She spoke without crying about his heroics, about when she found out he didn't make it, to why she does these tours. She does them because she doesn't want anyone to forget what happened that day. She feels it is important for her to do this and tell her story because we should never forget, and we need to make sure our children know what happened, and that they never forget. She also was a wonderful speaker and the pride she exuded when talking about her son, the other fire fighters and heroes that day was catching.

The tour lasted about 3 hours, beginning at the fire station that was across from the towers (no longer a working station) to the american express building where there is a monument for the 11 people that died in the towers that day from their company.

We thanked them both for their time, gave them hugs and talked to them individually. The woman gave us her son's memorial card and it has been hanging on our fridge since the day we got home. That way we would never forget. We see it every day, see his face, see his name and on the back say "we will never forget".

To this day, we both feel that that was the best thing we did while we were in New York. That day alone made the whole trip.

I wish I could say I remembered her name, I think it is theresa, but I can only remember her sons name. If I saw her again, I would hug her, and show her the bracelet I bought. I got it from: and it has Michael's name on it, that he was from NY, the date he died and VOT (Victim of Terror)

I wear the bracelet for her, for Michael, whom I have never met, but feel like I did from her stories, for all the people who died that day, and so that I can pass the stories onto my children.

Rick and I will go back to New York one day to see the new memorial. We will find Michaels name and we will go through the museum in it's permanent home, and if still offered, will pay to go on that tour again. Rick and I were not directly effected by the attack in the fact that we didn't know anyone in new york, washington, or PA. We experienced it on tv like millions of other people in our situation. But the one thing that day did was bring it to reality, or home as some people say. Both of us look at 9/11 differently now and I know that we both will never forget, our children will never forget, and the will know who Michael Mullan was.

Saturday, September 10, 2011


A horrific thing happened yesterday.
Chelsie was hit by a car and killed.

Our dogs become so much of our family that it is so difficult when they move on.
We "rescued" chelsie from her previous owner who kept her in a crate most of her life. Letting her out to go to the bathroom, then right back in. "She is just too hyper" was the excuse.

Once we adopted her the crate was thrown away and we gave her free roam of our house and yard. Now Chelsie had hunting dog in her so she loved going all over our 8.5 acres. She always came when she was called and was a good dog. Had some cuddle issues, but that is what will happen when a dog spends most of their life in a crate.

She never did come out of her funk after York died (our golden who passed a year and a half ago) so I know that she is up there with him chasing him and teasing him when he tries to chase her, knowing he can't run as fast as she can. I hope there are motorcycles up there that she can run after. Rick would ride his dirt bike in the yard and she would chase after him, cut through the yard to catch up to him when she fell behind...and she was fast.

When she would hear a motorcycle coming down the road she would run along our yard and come to a screaching halt when she got to where she would leave the yard. Trot back to where she was laying and do it again when another motorcycle came along.

We only had her for four years, but I would like to think that those four years made up for all the others she lived in that crate. That she died happy because she had a family that loved her and let her run and follow all those interesting scents.

We love you Chelsie. You will be missed dearly, but we know that you now can play eternally in fields, follow that scent all day, and be with York, Trude, Toby, Shadow, Phantom, and Beowulf.(How much loss can a human take?) I know that when it is my time you will be there to greet me and I will hug you, and watch you run everywhere freely.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Fuck you and the black horse you ride on

564,800 people are expected to die from cancer this year, and about 1,228,600 new cancer cases are expected to be diagnosed. So says a cancer fact type website. You also get numbers like this: 1500 people die a day of cancer.

Fuck you cancer. Yes I am a little mad today that out of all the scientists in the world, no one as of yet has found a cure. In my opinion, someone is always "close" to a cure...

Hmmm, what is that saying? Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.

This morning a friend of my husbands died of cancer, after being diagnosed a little over 4 months ago. He was such a vibrant man whom would join my husband at Brew's cafe in Granville, drink beers and talk. Rick loved talking to him and spending time with him. He was a cyclist who would come out to ride with Rick, or if he was out on his motorcycle would stop by to say hi. Every time I saw him he was smiling, even when he was weak from his battle with cancer, and always happy. Always caring for the other person. The world now has a hole in it that no one will ever come close to filling.

Daryl Berry, you leave a lasting impression that should be an example of how people should treat people. With kindness, love, and caring. I will miss your smile and Rick will miss everything about you.

Fuck you cancer, for all the people you have taken.
For all the things you take, but do not give.

For my cousin, Kevin Spiegel who died way too young. For my best friend Krysia's mother who was a blast to be around. For my other best friend, Hunny's niece who was a little princess. And even for my little girl Trude, our dog, whom waited for us all to get home from vacation, so we could all be with her before she moved on.

And that is what I have to say about that.