My Dad, the runner.

I've been asked a few times lately about my semi-sudden interest in running, particularly long distance running.

The thing is, I don't really remember a time when I didn't run in some form or fashion. I've been running fairly regularly since I was a kid, pre-teen, teenager, young adult, adult, to now, middle aged adult. Sometimes I would pepper my exercise regimen with other workouts--who can forget step aerobics, the Stairmaster, Tae-bo, impact kickboxing, and I must admit--I actually had one of those slide things to mimic speed skating. Whoa boy. And I've mountain biked, hiked, roller bladed, ran stairs, and even tried swimming.

But running has been the constant. After all, I grew up around a running father.

Have I ever really enjoyed running?

Not really. I ran cross country in the hopes that I would make my Dad happy.

He was pleased, as pleased as he showed me in those days. He came to all my practices because he had to drive me there. He became the self-appointed assistant coach which embarrassed me to no end. I wasn't very good as speed has not ever been my gift. So who knows if I ended up embarrassing him as much as he was embarrassing me. I wish I could ask him.

This past weekend I was in my hometown for the dreaded reunion--dreaded only in the sense that it marked time in a very real way. It was actually lovely to see so many of my friends, all of us twenty years older.

While in my hometown I drove around familiar spaces and thought about all the running I did on some of those streets. Runs with one of my best running buddies Phoebe in high school--and after meandering around her neighborhood streets for an hour or so we'd get in her little red VW Bug and drive the route to see our mileage. No RunKeeper or Garmin's back then. I was astonished to drive on the hilly feeder roads that hardly have a shoulder as I recalled running a six mile loop on them as a youth...I have to think my parents didn't really know I was out there doing that and I am frankly amazed I wasn't mowed down by a car.

That was a damn hard route, run in the midst of my eating-and-exercise disordered haze.

I ran in college with the hubs, again, strictly as part of a way to burn calories and hope to get thinner and thinner.

Running is just what I knew. Everyone is supposed to exercise. Running is good exercise. Ergo, I ran.

My Dad started running in 1978. He also started writing in running journals. Clear as a bell in my mind's eye I can see him standing at our kitchen bar, leaning over his running journal, every.single.day recording his distance and time, and little anecdotes about the run.

"You'll want to read these one day after I'm gone."

Sure Dad, we'd say, and roll our eyes. I could never imagine wanting to read about his runs one day.

Just as clearly I can see him sitting on our back porch in a lawn chair, sweat pooling underneath him, leaning forward, shirtless, tanned, sweatband around his head and maybe on his wrists, as he cooled off from his midday runs. In Texas. In the summer. He loved running in the heat, the hotter the better.

"Walk on my back," he'd say when we were small. My Dad had had several back surgeries and was actually told he'd never run again after the fact but proved everyone wrong, ad nauseum. We'd walk up and down his back to help work out the kinks. I myself have only recently discovered the glorious feeling of little tiny feet under the weight of a thirty-pound body walking up and down my back when it's sore.

I have my Dad's running journals now. From 1978 to 2000 he wrote an entry nearly every single day. And I'm reading through them, and loving and cherishing every single word.

Although he is not gone, his running self is gone. That body has left us. Most of that mind has left us. And so his words are as beautiful as they are mundane, because I have this sense of him. Of how he loved running. Of how important it was to him, to go out and feel the pavement under his feet, to feel the sweat pour off his body, to feel his strong heart beating harder and faster.

It made him feel alive.

I'm sorry I didn't start enjoying running until so recently. Now I would love to talk to him more about it. To tell him that I get it, this addiction he had. That we're not running away from anything but running towards everything. Towards peace. Towards health. Towards happiness. And that running long distances feels good and it has nothing to do with calories burned or pounds shed.

This weekend when I saw him I told him some of this. It doesn't matter what he understands. I told him I am reading his journals and loving every word of them. I told him I have his old running t-shirts, and his marathon medals, and the wool hat he wore when he crossed his first marathon finish line in a winter race. Maybe I'll wear it when I run the 50K I plan on running in the cold this November.

I rubbed his leg, and felt the muscle that has withered and faded so much he is mostly bones.

I heard his heart beat, still slow and strong--a runner's heart. He'll always have a runner's heart.

I showed his picture to Phoebe, my running buddy, who only knew my Dad as a strong runner. She teared up and squeezed my hand, so sorry to see the way he has slipped into this weakened state.

And I went running. Through the trails near the land where he grew up as a kid. I saw the sunlight shining through the trees and I felt happy. I had the hubs take a quick picture so I could try to hold onto the feeling.

Here is a shot of one of his earliest journals, from 1978. I focused in on the words "I am addicted to running" which was written at the end of a week he was injured and couldn't run and frankly felt miserable.

I get it Dad.

Thanks for teaching me about running.

The post I have needed to write...

Warning: this post is very sad, about my dog. That is all I can say.

It has been a little over a year since we brought our babies home from Ethiopia.
And so it has been a little over a year since we said goodbye to our original boy, our dog Pablo.

Pablo was ill when we left. Two years prior he had been given only months to live but miraculously had hung on and remained fairly healthy.

We even left our dear pet sitter and vet instructions on what to do should he take a turn for the worse while we were on the other side of the world. This is the same lovely pet sitter who emailed us photos twice daily of our sweet Pabbies while we were on our long CCRM vacations. She was ecstatic that we were finally going to become parents when we left for Ethiopia.

We were not prepared for what we found when we came home.

Pabbies. Emaciated. Sick. Nearly gone, but hanging on.

We saw him right after crossing the threshold of our new lives with our babies in our arms. After laying our babies down for their first night in their new beautiful nursery we just held him and sobbed. We knew what we had to do.

I decided it needed to be me. The next day, still sleep deprived and shaky and terrified and overwhelmed and elated at being home, I called our vet. They booked us--me and Pabbies--into the last appointment of the day so we could have some privacy.

Somehow I left the mister with the two babies, who were still feeding nearly constantly, who were crying quite at bit at their new unfamiliar surroundings, ripped apart from every single thing they had ever known, and put Pabs in the car with me. I took a bunch of his favorite treats and sobbed on the twenty five minute ride to the vet, feeding him treats and petting him the whole way.

When I got there I was a basket case. I could barely take him out of the car.

And things only got worse.

They couldn't get a vein. They couldn't start an IV. He was crying, howling in pain.

All those treats I thought he was happily gobbling up on the way there were just sitting in his mouth. He was too weak and sick to swallow.

I had done nothing to ease his pain.

The vet had to make a decision to inject him in the stomach.

It was horrific. I could barely stand to hold him, to have me see my face associated with this horrible pain we were causing him, all while trying to end his life in a pain free way.

The vet was young and inexperienced and not our usual vet. She was crying too. The tech was crying. I was shaking and sobbing.

Pabs did not go quickly.
He did not go peacefully.
Every single thing that could have gone wrong did.
And I held his sweet body until he took his last breath.

We buried him with his favorite toys under a tree in our yard, and I look at that spot nearly every single day and wish I could have done more for his last moments in this life. I have never--will never--forgive myself for failing him in his final moments.

Oh Sweet Pabs. It's been just over a year since you were gone. You waited until your brother and sister got here and then you asked us, with those beautiful but old and sick eyes, to take you out of your misery.

I will never forget.

And it is shaping the way I think of things..so many things which I will have to write about here soon...about the way we treat animals in this world.

But I have needed to write this for a long time, to get it off my heart. Thank you, for letting me share it here.

Bullets (I know...) but packed with stuff....

It's not really true that I only have time for a bullet point post.

However, it is the most efficient way of articulating a few of the things swirling around in my brain or documenting some of the things we've been up to. Every time I think I will just stop blogging altogether I remember that aside from all the great things I love about blogging this will at least serve as little snapshots in time of our lives.

Here goes, in no particular order:

• I've been baking/cooking/trying new recipes plus cooking some old favorites which I had forgotten about. All of this brings me great pleasure, I only wished I weren't so rushed when doing it (I still cook ahead for the following week so evenings run a little smoother). Some items include: avacado nutella muffins (yes, yes, and YES), Indian samosa pie, homemade vegetable pot pie (not really a summer food but it still hit the spot), Bakerella's key lime layer cake, quinoa broccoli casserole, Mexican vegan eggrolls, chocolate mint brownies, and these little peanut butter pretzel chocolatey things that just made my heart go pitter-patter.
• I am running more than ever.
• I am severely anemic. Hmph. Trying to get to the bottom of this currently and it involves more testing, which is annoying. I suspect my useless uterus is the culprit but am not allowed an ablation because of my higher cancer risk given my sordid uterine history. Hopefully I will know more in the next few weeks but I'd really like to avoid surgery. 
• I am contemplating running an ultra marathon. On trails in my hometown. My Dad ran a shortened version of it fifteen years ago with my DH so that one feels like a good one to try.
• We keep talking about moving to Ethiopia for a year or two. Seriously.
• Of course we also still want to move to NYC--Brooklyn?--but Ethiopia is in our hearts.
• But yet we both love our jobs. OK DH might not love his but I seriously love mine. Love it. I feel so lucky to work there, with incredible colleagues. One of my sweetest and most favorite coworkers asked me the other day how I felt the parttime thing was working out. I immediately said "Perfect. On Sunday night I am so ready to be back at work and on Wednesday afternoon after I close my last chart I am so ready to be home again." I know how lucky I am, and I think the tod-bots benefit tremendously from this balance. I think they'd be sick of me seven days in a row, week in and week out :)
• I am trying/hoping to write an article to be published in a medical journal about this incredibly complex patient I have been seeing. The thing is, none of us can figure out what genetic issue he is plaqued with...and I've got the top lipid genetics guys working on it. I never thought I'd just pick up the phone and start calling journal authors to get help but that's what I did and now I've got several intrigued brilliant minds trying to help this guy out. All I'll say here is he's a skinny young guy with a total cholesterol over 700 and it was coming out in his skin. It's hard to write an article when so far all you can say is "dude, we really don't know what's wrong with you."
• I am hoping my running will improve when my anemia improves but alas the doctor told me yesterday that a whole month's worth of iron therapy will be gone with one measly AF. Another doctor told me I need iron infusions but I seriously do not have time for that.
• I have been contemplating going vegan. I am happily vegetarian but feel a strong pull to go to the next level. I have a whole post in my head about this and might just write it out one day, but it will be one of those that will likely offend a whole host of folks so maybe it's better to keep it in my head? At the very least we are going to start buying our dairy locally from a cruelty free dairy farm. And yes, I know chocolate is not vegan. And I know vegan baking is tough.
• I am so happy to be raising vegetarian kids. So happy. We do allow them to eat some of the soy meat substitutes (yes, I know these would be out the window with veganism) and I need to quit saying things like "here is your chicken!" when at the same time I am telling them we do not believe in eating animals.
• The toddlers are thriving. They are talking up a storm--a few two or three word sentences every now and again. Our son is especially interested in learning his letters right now. I get what people meant when they said this was a super fun age. The learning explosion is crazy to witness.
• I am now running in minimus type shoes. I don't think I can go Luna Sandals or Vibram Five Fingers only, but I do feel like this is a much, much better way to run. I am really trying to work on technique, too, but some days it's just enough to get out there and cover some miles.
• Yes, I still get up at 3:45 am to go running. I just keep saying my day is shifted. I'm in bed by 8:45 at the latest but it works for now so why change?
• I am still drinking Diet Coke. Maybe if someone told me an animal was harmed during the production of my chemically syrup I could give it up no problemo....?
• My Dad is the same overall but sometimes takes pretty bad turns, and I think "this is it." My mom is suffering the most, I think. It's hard to know what will happen next.  
• My twentieth high school reunion is next month. Ugh is all that comes to mind.

I feel simultaneously old and young at the same time. Better/more running makes me feel young but my approaching twentieth high school reunion makes me feel O-L-D. Having toddlers makes me feel young and old at the same damn time...young because they are so delightful and it is so much fun to delight in their happiness but old because my God do they demand a lot of energy.

Sigh.

What have you been up to?

One year home.

I cannot believe I am typing those words as a post heading.
But it's true. One year ago today, we landed in the United States, after a 16 hour flight that is still traumatizing to think about, but at least I'm maturing to know that it was far more traumatizing for my babies than it ever could be for me. A good friend asked me if we could laugh about the flight yet and I have to admit...not yet. Not quite.

One year ago we came home, as a family of four. Presto magic we went from two to four. Of course I kid using the term 'presto magic'--you all know it wasn't like that at all. And you will never hear me say (see me write?) the words "gotcha day" because those make my stomach turn.

But here we are.

Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes.

How do you measure a year in a life?

Of course, as a Rent lover this song resonates with me on multiple levels.
And yes, we could measure it in sunsets, and midnights, in laughter and in strife.

We could also measure it in diapers (hey that's actually in the B lyrics!), and sweet little slobbery kisses, in sleep deprived nights and days, in tantrums, in high chair meals (it seems we are forever getting in and out of high chairs!), and Brown Bear, Brown Bear readings.

The days can be long, but the year has been short but I am trying--always trying!-- to measure my life in love.

While 'Seasons of Love' is probably the most popular song from the play, my favorite is 'Without You, Finale'.

These words have been in my head since the first time I heard them.

There's only us
There's only this
Forget regret or
Life is yours to miss
There's only now
There's only here
Give in to love
Or live in fear
No other path
No other way
No day but today.

And today, is one year home.

But because I don't ever like ending all drama-esque, I'm going to publish a photo that is sure to make you smile. I don't think I ever put it in the blog before, and if I did, forgive me for the re-share. This photo was taken after we'd been home about three days. We were out walking the babies because most of the time we didn't know what to do with them and strollering was one of our many ways to 'change the environment' when said babies started getting cranky. We were both so tired we were literally stumbling.

Oh bless their hearts. They didn't know what they were getting themselves into when they got us as their second parents, did they?

What we've been up to lately, mostly in photos again...

OK it's been so long since I've blogged I don't recognize the new posting template/format. Whoops.

Thanks for the encouraging words on the last post. I do enjoy writing but I'm finding that--while I write some great posts in my head (I mean, everything sounds great in your own brain, right?) by the time I get a few seconds to spare I've completely forgotten what I wanted to write. So today I will do best to recap the past few weeks with pictures and some brief descriptions.

We took a trip to my hometown and went to a duck park I frequented as a kid. The ducks were a hit. No one fell in (like I did once when I was little--totally traumatizing!).

I baked!

OK I didn't actually bake, as these are no bake. They are from Bakerella (naturally) and they are chocolate chip cookie dough bites, dipped to look like cookies. It's edible dough that is safe and super tasty. Yum.

We had a little staycation. Truly. My sister kept my babies for two nights. TWO NIGHTS. They slept away from home for the first time. They did great. We did great. We ran, we ate, we went to the candy store where I got chocolate covered cherry sours!! we watched Breaking Bad in marathon format, we went to the pool and the hot tub. Ahhhhhhhhh....it was very strange being in our house without them here, but it was also mighty nice :)

OK this was the sampler fake dessert tray, I really didn't eat this much. Close though. Hence all the running.

We are so lucky to have this pool/spa less than half a mile from our house. We debated joining for a while but once we did we haven't regretted it. We even went on the water slide sans kiddos! Ha.

The lake is low but what can you do? The view is still quite nice.

Of course when we got home we had to have some dance party time. Now, I post this because I think my daughter is adorable dancing in her sun hat. Nevermind me, freakishly dancing as well. And nevermind my son who started crying (you can't see him, but you can surely hear him!)

And to anonymous--YES! I did receive a Diet Coke t-shirt in the mail. The funny thing is, I had bought one sort of similar several months before as a part of a Diet Coke promotion at Target and when I got the new one in the mail I thought "How did they know I'd already worn the other one out." Ha. So yes, I wear it and thank you.

Conflicted...but keeping my promise.

I'm conflicted...again...about this blog. What to do? I'm not sure who is still reading, I'm not sure if the story has come to its natural end (and..............scene.) I mean, I know that the story continues but really? Maybe I am done sharing. I know we are in the midst of some complicated stuff though.

But I like to keep my promises and at the end of my last angst ridden post I did say the next blog post would be full of pictures and so without further ramblings...I give you the past few weeks in photos, with little captions, too, because I can't really ever just shut.up.

Cupcake bites...

My little piece of heaven-turnaround point on a long trail run (I'm uber sweaty!)

Second piece of heaven...lounging by the river at a friend's river house. Ahhhhhh.....

A trip back in time...recently acquired pic of the night at the airport...after twenty-four hours of travel and very little sleep....

Those same little babies (much bigger!) goofing off in their cribs.

At the pool--I made them wear ridiculously bulky swimsuits with flotation devices sewn in....

Lounging by the pool sans bulky swimsuits....!

At the park in the tunnel...so fun!

Coloring with Dad in the playroom!

Dogpiling Dad on the floor--a common activity around here :)

And finally....what powers me along (I know it's a weird pic and it looks like I'm more into the goldfish but I promise you, I am not).

Do you see the giant Diet Coke? I am willing it into my mouth...and if anyone knows how to get this display from Target I want it.



And on that note, peeps, I am out.

Split Self...Again.

I have so many half written posts.
So many.

I finally figured out why.

I feel like I am straddling two worlds right now, that I've split into two selves again. (note: not in a literal sense, no worries that I'm becoming Sybill).

World one: the one I posted about last time. I'm keeping it together. I'm baking again. I'm running. I'm parenting. I'm lucky lucky lucky lucky lucky. I have two amazing toddlers who challenge me and light up my world in new ways each and every day. I have Mother's Day to celebrate as a mother, not a 'wanting to be a mother' not a 'kind of a mother but my kids are not with me they are on the other side of the world' mother like last year, but an actual in the trenches day to day mother. I am lucky. I am happy. We hang out, we play, we read, we swim, the hubs and I get to go to the river, we go trail running, we go to work, I see patients, I earn money, I come home to a home I love, we eat delicious food, I live my life. I love my life.

World two: The agony of so much of the world. The poverty. The death. The starvation. Sickness. Things I cannot write about here because I will protect my children's privacy but suffice it to say we are in the midst of some deep, deep stuff. And let me tell you that mothering as an adoptive mother, more specifically as a transracial international adoptive mother is just like any other mothering except it isn't. Not in the least. It never will be.

Each day I love them more. And more. And more. And each day I hurt for them more deeply than the day before.

Split self.

But tomorrow is Mother's Day. I will be happy, of course. I promise you that I fought too hard to get here to not be happy.

But I will also be sad. We infertiles know all too well how we can be both happy and sad all in the same breath. It's just who we are.

Because I am my children's second mother. We are their second family. And I will be celebrating their first mothers tomorrow and also grieving for them.

And to all of those still in the trenches, my heart aches for you too. You deserve nothing more than happiness and light in your lives. The women I have met along this journey are some of the most beautiful women I know and although I'm not around here much anymore, you are never far from my thoughts and my heart. I do remember.

I promise you this: my next post will be chock full of photos. And happiness. And goodness. Because there is all of that, and more. I promise.