Tempo Schlempo

I attempted to run my first tempo run last night. Admittedly, I had to actually look up the definition when I saw it on my training schedule. I almost collapsed during the last third, but iTunes and the thought of Butterbean saying, "Run to the beat, Mommy!" spurred me on.

As many of you know, I haven't always been a runner. I half-heartedly ran on my high school's Cross-Country team. Then I didn't run for years. After being certified as a step aerobics (Please don't try to picture this!) instructor in 1998, I picked up running as a form of cross training.

Then I randomly signed up for a half-marthon in 2001 with my then roommate, Amy. We gave it our best shot at the Runner's World Half-Marathon in Allentown, PA. I loved the feeling of pride after completing the race, but then I let my running shoes gather dust in my closet for a few years. I did a few 5ks and even a Peachtree thrown in every couple of years, but I definitely wasn't serious about running as a form of exercise or enjoyment.

I caught the bug again while fighting the side effects of infertility in 2006. In case you don't know these side effects include, but aren't limited to: fear, depression, a total lack of control, weight issues, and personality highs and lows.

Since I could not control conception, I focused on reaching a goal that I had control over. . . the Inaugural ING Atlanta Half-Marathon. I began my training on January 1, 2007.

Unbeknownst to me, I became pregnant just a few weeks later. When I discovered that we were going to have a child, I was overcome with joy. I spoke with my doctor about the perils of running during pregnancy, and she assured me that if I listened to my body, I would be fine.

Well, I ran that half-marathon with my beloved Tortugas (pictured below before another race) while I was 11.5 weeks pregnant. I let them in on my secret the day before the race, so they could help me out if there were any complications.

I finished that race through major pain in my shin from mile seven to mile 13.1. Unfortunately, I was diagnosed with a stress fracture the next day. My running shoes went back to the closet until 2008.

Fast forward to today. Now I have multiple 5ks and 10ks under my belt, four half-marathons, and one marathon.

Now I need more.
I need to challenge myself to PR at the Denver Half in October.
Here goes nothing.

An old friend: A sermon revisited

I'm not sure that pain can become a friend, but faith and hope are often developed during painful times.
Faith and Hope? Well, they are definitely friends of mine. We got to know each other very well during my first bout with infertility. They are loyal, committed, loving, and sometimes even funny. We've been hanging out a lot together lately. It seems I really need them around these days.

This is a sermon that I preached (Yes! From an actual pulpit!) after establishing my kinship with Faith and Hope and rekindling my reliance on God and His Sovereignty.

*This post will officially be my longest, but go ahead and try to summarize 18 months of your life-it's tough! Please forgive the summary of Job's life, but he has an entire book in the Bible; read it if you need to know more.

Thank you notes to God
March 8, 2009
Martha Brown United Methodist Church

Scripture Reading:
1 Thessalonians 5 16-18 Be joyful always, pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.
Have you ever given a gift to someone and seen their face fall because it wasn’t what they asked for? I imagine that God feels this pain all of the time.
I’ve never been too good with thank you notes. I’m sure that my mother raised me to write them, but I’ve just never been that good with the follow-through.
Recently, I heard from a couple, Jason and Anna, about the bowls I gave them for their wedding approximately ten years ago. I doubt that these bowls were on their wedding registry. I’m guessing that when they opened that gift, they were probably disappointed to find that it wasn’t the china pattern they asked for, or the bath towels embellished with their new monogram. Their response was probably, “Oh, wow, bowls.” I feel sure that they thanked me for the gift at the time, probably saying how it was a great gift and that they would use often. But now, that gift of bowls has become something they use on a weekly basis. They have been durable and functional gifts. Anna and Jason seem to truly appreciate those bowls.
So I started thinking about how much more sincere a thank-you note would be after you learned to appreciate the gift that was given to you.

Story of Job
Job was a very wealthy man. He had land, farm animals, a wife, children, and extended family.
Satan asks God if Job fears anything. God says that Job is a blameless and upright believer.
Satan challenges that it is because God had blessed him significantly. Satan tells God that if Job loses everything, he would probably curse God to His face. Satan takes EVERYTHING-his land, farm animals, wife, children, grandchildren, servants, all of it.
Job responds to this devastation by saying, “The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.” Satan dares God again that if Job’s actual flesh is affected, then he will begin to curse God. Satan does this to Job. He covers his body with oozing painful sores. In fact, the Bible says that it was so painful that Job took broken clay pots and scraped at the sores. After many hours and days of discomfort, Job eventually curses the day he was born. Job begs God to alleviate his suffering and pain, but seemingly, God doesn’t answer. The Book of Job goes on to describe a discussion between Job and two other men regarding his tribulations. Eventually Job is healed, and all of his wealth is returned. He is blessed beyond belief with a new family and anything he could ever want. In the last chapter, after his many trials, Job offers up a thank-you note to God.
Job 42: 2-5
I know that you can do all things. No plan of yours can be thwarted. You asked, “Who is this that obscures my counsel without knowledge?” Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know.
You said, “Listen now, and I will speak; I will question you, and you shall answer me. My ears had heard of you, but now my eyes have seen you.

I’m certainly not comparing myself to Job, but I have some experience in asking God for things and not receiving them. We all have wish lists that we offer up to God. We may not write it out and put it in the mailbox, but we definitely know what we want, right?
Over the course of my life, I’ve wanted a lot.
When I was little, I wanted rain boots and a coat to match.
I wanted to live in a neighborhood with lots of kids around instead of on a rural farm.
I wanted to go to the University of Georgia even though my dad wanted me at Jacksonville State.
I wanted a teaching job.
I wanted a husband.
The list goes on and on.
Some of these things I received from God, and some of them I didn’t.

Well, in August of 2005, I decided that I wanted a child. Geoff and I were looking forward to beginning a family right here in East Atlanta Village.
I lifted this request to heaven and asked God to grant it.
The following months brought disappointment. It seemed that God didn’t add this gift to my list. So I made a big point to be very straightforward with Him. I reminded Him that I always wanted to be a mother. I even threw in a few reminders to Him that I would certainly commit the baby to His care as soon as he or she arrived.
God must have said no, because the following months brought even more heartache.
After a year, the heartache turned to despair, frustration, and anger. While I was thrilled for those friends and acquaintances around me who were being blessed by babies, I was angry with God for not granting me the same.
It was during this time, that as Martha Brown United Methodist’s children’s council chairperson, I was asked to help prepare a nursery for the church. No one at Martha Brown knew of my ungranted gift. I agreed with a smile on my face, but when I got home, I fell to my knees in tears to ask God why He would ask this of me in the middle of this anguish that I was feeling. He told me to push forward, but I was not thankful. In fact, I was angry and distraught.
By December of 2006, I was not a fun person to live with. (Too bad my husband, Geoff, left for Puerto Rico this morning and can’t chime in with specific examples. I’m sure he has plenty!) All of my prayers were about having a child. I found it more and more difficult to be thankful to God for all of the gifts he HAD blessed me with over the last year and a few months. After a particularly big emotional explosion, I saw my reflection in a mirror, and I realized who I had become, and I wasn’t pleased. I fell to my knees once again, this time to beg for forgiveness for being oblivious to the many blessings around me.
God assured me that night of His forgiveness, and He threw it into the Sea of Forgotten sins. I began to focus on the joys in my life-my family, my friends, my job, my 5th grade coworkers, my church family, and my wonderfully humorous, loving, forgiving, husband. I also began training for a half-marathon in January of 2007 in order to give myself a goal on which to focus.
At that point, I changed from a someone who spewed a lot of rhetoric about trusting in God to a woman who was simply trusting God, as my Father who loved me and intended to bless me with the gifts from His list, not mine.
In the beginning of February, Martha Brown dedicated the Firefly Nursery that I had helped put together. I had tears in my eyes that morning, but I was happy and content with the life that God had given me.
Two days later, on February 13th, I found out that Geoff and I were expecting Baby Butterbean. The first thing I did? I fell to my knees in tears, once again, and thanked God first and foremost for the lessons he had taught me over the previous 18 months. Then, of course, I thanked Him for that precious tiny baby and I woke up my sleeping husband.
A few days later, we held our Ash Wednesday service here at Martha Brown. That night, David Collins, our pastor, passed out index cards, on which to write what was on our hearts.
This is the actual thank-you note I wrote to God on that night:
2-21-07
Thank you, Father, for the faith and hope that you have been building within me over the past eighteen months. I am so grateful for the journey that I have taken with you. Forgive me for doubting your plans for me. Please use me as a witness. Help me communicate with others. Give others the same hope and strength that You granted me with. Thank you for my loving and humorous husband and my supportive family. Thank You!

There are thank-you notes at the end of your pews. Please take one and pass them on. We will have a few moments to write a thank-you note to God if you are so moved.

Then, during the Hymn of Invitation, please feel free to bring your note to the altar if you’d like and someone will pray over them after the service.

Now that's a bright idea!

Butterbean is quite the chatterbox when she's in the car (or her room, or the kitchen, or outside, or basically anywhere).

On the way home from school yesterday she said, "Mommy, turn off the heat." I told her that I didn't have the heat on, but the air conditioner was on to cool off the car. She replied with, "No, I mean turn off the heat outside." I explained to her that I couldn't turn it off because it was coming from the sun.

Her response? "Well, mom, we need a big ladder."

Since I recently posted about "Letting Go", I've decided to let go of using this unbearable heat as an excuse. I began training for the Denver Half-Marathon yesterday, and it was a rough beginnning. Those first three miles of the training schedule felt like the complete thirteen with the point one thrown in on top.

But, you know what? I did it anyway.

Here are some other things I'm letting go of this week because they are outside my hula hoop of control:

1. The fact that I still don't have an official offer from HR for the Instructional Coach job at my school, though my principal recommended me for it.

2. Speaking of hula hoops, I'm letting go of the fact that I can no longer hula hoop. Ms. Taura, Butterbean's super model summer camp teacher, was rocking one yesterday afternoon. My waist is officially too thick to do this anymore. So what?

3. My obsession with limiting my consumption of all things dairy. ( You might think that this is actually within my control, but it's not-I swear!) I heart cheese. I will eat more veggies and run more. Hopefully, this will balance out my cheese intake.

4. My guilt for not "friending" everyone who asks on Facebook and for not returning emails as quickly as I should.

As for you, you should let go of a few things this week.

And embrace the heat, you'll miss it next January!

Reflections on a three mile, 90 degree, 9:00 run

Okay, it's hot out here. I can do this.

Aim for five minutes . . . anyone can do five minutes.

If I can run five minutes, I can run ten minutes, right?

Where is the one mile mark? Oooh! A mile in 8:15, I'm awesome!

Wait, wrong intersection for the mile mark-ugh.

It's really hot out here. Why did I eat shrimp before a run??? Gross.

OK, I really feel sick. I can't get sick right here. That neighbor is pregnant, and if she happened to be watching out of the window, I might make her sick, too. Nobody wants that guilt.

Okay, if I can just make it to the dump truck parked on Braeburn, I can walk up the rest of the hill.

Made it. Yes! Oh-there's a guy watering his plants. I can't stop and walk now, my pride would suffer.

Do you think if I asked him, he would spray me with his water hose?

Umm, that would probably be weird to ask.

Oh, well.

Now that I'm out of his sight, I'm walking. I mean this part of Braeburn isn't even paved, so it doesn't really count.

Okay, your one minute of walking is over. YOU MUST RUN, Ashley.

Down Flat Shoals, this actually feels good. You can do this.

Another hill? Why does this street have a hill no matter which direction you run it?

Make it to the next mailbox. Now the next one.

It's all downhill from here, Ash.

If you can slowly huff up the Van Vleck hill, surely you can run down it . . . at a fast pace.

After all, you told all your FB friends that you were aiming for a PR at this week's 5k, right?

What is my current PR? Better look that up. It never mattered before.

PUSH through the last minute.

I made it!

I love running.

That's what it's like to believe. . .

I am a creature of habit.

I always order the veggie and tofu wrap with fried okra at the EARL.

I always check my alarm clock before falling asleep.

I always leave the coffee grinds in the coffee maker when I leave for work.

(Much to Geoff's chagrin.)

And on Saturday mornings, I get up, make coffee, and eat breakfast with Annika while watching a Nick Jr., Sprout, or PBS kids' show.

Except this morning, we ate breakfast in the living room in a tent.

It was awesome.

Afterward, I went for a run. While huffing my way through four miles, I realized that I used to dread change. Now, I actually crave it.

Maybe it was the forced change that I've experienced over the last month. My job position was cut, my grandmother was diagnosed with advanced lymphoma, our house has had zero showings over the last thirty days, the pastor that we adore announced his departure, and our hopes to grow our family are dwindling.

All changes that I wasn't asking for, but God brought them on anyway.

These changes are just a few weeks old, but I've already come to total peace with all of them.

I'll enjoy twenty more days with my Butterbean next summer, now that I'm a 200 day employee. I'll treasure my Mimi even more than I did.( And she's a real fighter according to her latest CAT scan!) I love my backyard, so why not stay where we are? Pastor David needs a change, and Pastor Heather already intrigues me. I'm up to the challenge of raising a single child.

There's this fantastic song on my iPod shuffle by Francesca Battistelli called, "I'm Letting Go". One of the lyrics says, "It feels like I'm falling, and that's what it's like to believe."

I can honestly say that at this point of my life, I can do just that. . . believe.

So bring on the changes, God.