A little gift can make the difference in YOUR world

        I have a lot of passions. So many it sometimes feels like I may actually have ADD. There is one, however, that when given the word, I will drop absolutely everything and follow. That's the call to help. It doesn't matter in what capacity, but if I physically can help, I feel that I must. Being a volunteer firefighter and EMT, I look at situations and immediately evaluate what I can do to help make it better. I learned of a particular organization after Superstorm Sandy. From the moment I heard of them, I was impressed, and extremely moved. Their mission was to find new purpose for military veterans. There was, and still is, a huge gap between what we expect of our soldiers while in service and what they do when they come back and retire from service.
      Most people hear the word veteran and think "old". That is most definitely not the case. There are entire generations out there who are still so young and literally have most of their lives left to live. They will faithfully serve our nation and are then discharged when they're no longer needed, without any direction as to what to do next. Some are lucky enough to find work in their fields of expertise, but there are many that cannot. There are many who have been scarred in ways that may not show. They live everyday with the pain and memory of what they witnessed and experienced; loss, pain, fear, loneliness. Given no direction, they feel lost in the everyday. There's something missing inside them, something that they don't know how to fix or replace. There's an organization that was based on this, and it's name is Team Rubicon.
        Team Rubicon is a volunteer organization that puts veterans back to work, that helps them fill that void. If there's one thing I've learned about our military, it's that there primary purpose in serving our country is to help. Help make it safer, help make it a better place to live, help the world be a better place. That's what Team Rubicon allows them to do again. An organization created out of need. The need for help and the need to help.

The Story of Team Rubicon

        I got the honor earlier this year to deploy on my first mission with Team Rubicon. I went to Moore, OK to assist with relief efforts after the massive tornado that ripped through the town. It was one of the most amazing experiences I've ever had. I made friendships and bonds with people that neither time nor distance could ever break. I've never met a harder working group of people in all my life. There was never a question of getting the job done. As soon as the call was put out, Team Rubicon answered, in force.
        Now, with over 10,000 volunteers in the TR nation, we are a force to be reckoned with ourselves. One thing is key- we're all volunteers. We freely give up our time with our families, take time off work, do whatever we can to get out there, get dirty, mucky, and whatever else to help someone else. We have the ability, the desire, the willingness to help get another's life back on track, even just a little bit. Being completely volunteer, the organization relies on donations to keep its efforts going.
100% of all donations goes directly towards equipment and supplies to aid the team in disaster relief efforts. 

         TR has launched their Eleven11 fundraising campaign. A fundraiser that will help us be ready at the call. Our goal is to have boots on the ground as soon as we can when there's a need.  Any donation, any amount, helps us to achieve this. Our one objective is to help. We'll gladly get dirty if it means a family can get their house back, their lives back, a sense of normalcy for their children, their peace of mind back.

Here's a little breakdown of what YOUR donation could help with:

     Please, if you can donate, just one time, just $5 (that's cheaper than a Starbucks latte), you will be helping more than just Team Rubicon. You'll be helping the thousands of people they help in a disaster. Just go to http://fundraise.teamrubiconusa.org/events/eleven11/e28347. Pass this along to your friends, ask them to donate if they can.

We could someday be helping you.

Stuck in the middle with you...

Today has been craptastic from the start.  My alarm never went off, I woke up in an alarming amount of pain, I forgot to put dinner in the crock pot, and a whole other list of things (which I will get into).  But, I woke up, I'm breathing, I have a roof over my head (even if we can't make rent on it-for the time being, it's there), and my family are alive and healthy.  I have the things that matter-that truly matter, but sometimes, the other stuff is enough to make you breakdown and cry.
     It's this other stuff that I'm going to rant about, so for today, please excuse my bitching and complaining.  I know what's truly valuable in life, I need no reminders, but there is still a part of me who would just love to sit back for a day and take a break from worrying about everything and planning how to make ends meet again for the next day.

      I had to leave my job back in July.  I quit, but not voluntarily.  My hours were cut in what I believe was a retaliatory move by big cheese in charge.  I say retaliatory because when I followed all protocols regarding my volunteer service with Team Rubicon, I was berated for "abandoning my position" and helping in something that wasn't "my emergency".  (My position was an associate in a floral department in a supermarket and I was only scheduled 2 shifts that week-this was 4 days in advance, that was all the notice I had as well.)  I was told that "I must not need the hours if I can just up and leave".  After that, they cut my hours to 1/3 of what they had been.  As a result, I could no longer afford pre-school for my son, so I had to quit in order to care for him.
      I filed for unemployment in August and have yet to receive any money.  Nothing that I ever received ever clearly stated that I 1) was indeed receiving payment or 2) that I needed to re-file bi-weekly STARTING FROM THE DATE I FILED.  I knew about the refiling bi-weekly, but I understood it as refiling AFTER you were told yes, you're getting paid.  So, now, almost 8 weeks later, I have to re-open the claim and hope I can still be paid and haven't lost that time.  My gripe is this- I may not be a genius, but I'm not an idiot either.  They made this whole ordeal so confusing I didn't understand a single thing that was going on. I got 5 letters in the mail, all stating the SAME EXACT THING, none of them telling me an answer.  I never knew I was officially approved, and therefore, my claim went silently inactive.  There are people like me, who legitimately need this money and they make you jump through hoop after hoop, yet there are others who get it at the drop of a hat simply because they choose not to work.  Why is it so hard to get help in this country?
      This leads me to my underlying frustration.  Government assistance and food stamps.  There are so many people, like me, who need the benefit of food stamps but are ineligible because we make "too much money".  I put that in quotes because we literally make $100 too much.  That's it. $100.  Take less hours you say?  That's not possible because we have other bills to pay, and without the guarantee that food is taken care of, we can't risk not being able to pay.  As it is, most of our cabinets are empty and our fridge as well.  We buy what we can to make sure our kids are fed well, but we sweat each week wondering if we'll be ok.  We don't have a house, we rent.  We don't have a car payment-we both have old used cars that are pretty much held together by duct tape and hope.  I would be working if I could find a job that paid enough to have my son in pre-school, but no one is hiring and those that are, can't give me enough hours or a high enough wage to cover what I need.  I had a small savings that we had to cash out in order to buy school supplies for the kids and pay bills with.  Even the school supplies for my son-we had to buy two of everything and were not allowed to put their names on the items.  Why?  Because they are "pooled together because they don't want any child to feel left out because they don't have a supply".  So....I have to pay for someone ELSE'S kid's stuff because they don't feel like getting it?  I CAN'T AFFORD IT MYSELF!  Now, that being said, I understand that there are those who legitimately can't afford things, but the majority (especially around where I live) can most definitely afford the things they need.
         You kind of get a wake up call when you're standing in Wal Mart crying because you have to decide between making sure your child has school supplies and whether or not you will be able to buy groceries if you spend this money, or you try to calculate how far you can go on the 1/4 tank of gas you have left in your car and if it will last you until you can scrape enough change together from under the couch cushions (which I have done more than once).  I don't understand how others receive so much help from the government by doing so little.  My husband and I try to be good people, we're honest and hard working, we don't look for handouts or cheats, why are we the ones getting screwed?  I know we're not the only ones, but I am using my situation to demonstrate what's REALLY happening to millions of families.  Never has the divide between truly rich and poor been so apparent.  There is no getting out from under this ceiling without a drastic and major increase in income.  That won't happen anytime soon because neither my husband nor I have a college degree.  I could not afford to finish college because I was paying it on my own.  Had I finished, I'd be a doctor by now, and probably not griping about this stuff.  Instead, I'm trying to write and sell my stories, I've sold all my jewelry, trying to open an Etsy business (I have to be able to do SOMETHING with all my creative energy).  If I could sell my eggs, I would.  Or any organ for that matter.
       So that brings me to my next rant - health care.  Obamacare proves to screw us no matter what.  Those of us who have coverage through spouses or work, our premiums will go up because of the amount of people who now MUST be covered.  If you're not working and are not covered by any one's health care, and can't afford to buy private insurance, you will now be forced to pay to GET covered or face a fine. So....let me get this straight....those who can barely afford it now, you're going to raise the cost so they can't afford it anymore (or businesses choose to drop it altogether because it's costing them too much) or they have to pay money they don't have to buy your insurance or get fined for not having it.  WHO WINS WITH THIS?  As it is, I have foregone many health issues and procedures (mainly dental thanks to years of bulimia) because we can't afford the copays.  You want to make us pay MORE? This nation is in for a terrible awakening.

        I feel a little better now, getting that out on paper (so to speak).  I'm not crying anymore at least.  I just have a headache, but that's common considering how much I think about.  So, if you made it through all that, I thank you for listening.  If you're going through the same thing, know that my heart goes out to you and I'm hoping for you get some relief just as much as I want it for myself.  This is such a difficult position to be in- too "rich" to be classified as "poor", too "poor" to be "rich" in anything but love.  Being the richest of the poor still means you're poor.

The day the world changed forever

      Today is the 12th anniversary of 9/11.  Every year the tears return with the memories from that day.  I light a candle at 8:46am and keep it burning throughout the day.  I will not make this blog long or heavy handed with words.  I would rather hear what everyone else has to say.  Instead of full stories, tell me your memories in 6 words. You may be surprised the words that come to mind when you pare all your feelings down to their roots.

Here's mine:


Beautiful Tuesday. Shattered heart. Brotherhood murdered.




Please comment and leave your 6 word memories.  Share this and encourage others to comment and do the same.  Only through sharing our memories can we continue to honor and remember those who fell victim on this day and the heroes who gave their lives trying to save as many as they could.

You are more than you imagine

      I've struggled for many years with depression, low self-esteem, eating disorders, and self-harm.  I think of the years I felt so alone and hated by everyone, and the memory of them still brings tears to my eyes.  It seemed to me, as I was growing up, that if everyone else says it, it must be true, right?  If my parents call me these things, then I must really be that way.  I was abused from a young age, my father's rage knew no ages.  But worse was the abuse I took from my "best friend" and her brother. I grew up a very lonely, sad, hurting child. I will be perfectly honest-I attempted suicide more than once.  I remember the first time I ever thought about committing suicide-I was 11 and I had performed terribly in a basketball game.  My father berated me for an hour after the game, and all I could think of was the only way out of all this anger was death.  He wouldn't miss me, no one else would either.  Well, that day wasn't an attempt-I was too scared.  The actual attempts came later, when I knew there was no one there for me.  I was a teenager with an absent mother, a father who was trying to break free from the absent psychotic mother and find his own sanity, a brother and sister whom, through no fault of their own, I barely knew and a sister who was as trapped as I was.  She didn't know what her role was in this bizarre dynamic and my mother kept messing with her head until she didn't know which end was up either.
     These were my worst years.  I was abused-physically, mentally, emotionally, I was neglected, honestly barely having food I was allowed to eat (most everything in the house was my mother's.)  I drank every weekend, smoked, did every drug I could get my hands on, did anything I could do to try and escape the hell I was in.  After an attempt that landed me in the child psych unit at CHOP, I was determined to never try it again, or if I did, I needed to make sure I was successful.  It was one of the scariest experiences of my life.
         Every unsustainable situation eventually comes to a head.  My junior and senior year of high school I became "consumed" by an eating disorder.  By the spring of senior year, I had lost so much weight, the school took notice.  It was only when I was failing all of my subjects and they called my mother in for a conference did she say she knew I had a problem, and if she got me treatment, could the school help me pass my classes so I graduate?  The school accepted these terms, and I was hospitalized for two weeks in May.  How I left the hospital was terrible-insurance backed out, my mother accused my doctor of conspiring against her, and the whole way home was spent in silence.
       Back at home, I realized nothing had changed, so why should I?  I relapsed and began starving myself again.  My father and a good friend reached out and called me on it.  They held me accountable for my actions and forced me to answer why I was doing it again.  If they had not intervened, I probably would not have survived the next year.
        Life went on, I found a calling in the emergency services, became and EMT and a volunteer firefighter and it gave me a reason to be alive.  In helping others, I was helping myself.  I didn't even know it.  I met a boy, we moved in together, got married, and in a minute I was pregnant.  I was beyond terrified.  I had never wanted kids.  I didn't want there to ever be the chance I'd screw them up they way my mother did me.  Little did I know, this little child would be my savior.
       My daughter became my rock over the next few years.  I see-sawed up and down, through post-partum depression, relapsing into my eating disorder, in and out of depression, but she always brought me back to center.  Then her brother came along, and the effect was compounded.  The love I felt for these two amazing little people, it broke through all that darkness and showed me that there was a reason why I was here-to love them and to show them that they are worthy of love just by being alive, not because of what they can do for me.  So I want to write a letter to my children today.  It's National Suicide Awareness day, and I want to thank them for preventing mine.

To my Daughter and Son,
      I know I am far from the perfect mom.  I should vacuum more.  And probably not cuss quite so much.  I'm quirky and weird, OCD and annoying.  As much as I know I get on your nerves, I hope you see someday that there was a reason for it all.  I wanted to be present in your lives as much as I possibly could.  I wanted you to know that I care about what you do, and if you're doing something wrong, I care enough to call you out on it.  I check your phone, facebook, instagram, kik, etc. because I want to make sure people are treating you right, not manipulating you or bullying you.  I am weird and silly and geeky and spout off random science or history facts to you in the car because I want you to be more than just one of the masses.  I want to challenge you to think and question and follow the white rabbit down the rabbit hole when you find something that interests you.  I'm intense and loyal and brutally honest with you because I want you to see the value of putting your heart into everything you care about, because otherwise you're just wasting this short time you have on earth.  When you put your heart into something so completely, your loyalty presents itself in your actions and your honesty shines through, whether you wish it to or not because you can't bare your heart without being honest.  I am weird and goofy to you and your friends because you are way too young to take your life so seriously.  Those who can't laugh at themselves most likely don't know how to think for themselves.  You are too good to be part of that boring flock of sheep. Weird is lovely, fun, exciting, and freedom.  You don't have to worry about constraining yourself to what someone else thinks you should be like.  You like what you like, and that's that.  There is no law stating you must dress like a girl or a boy and you can't play both a "girly" sport AND a "boy sport".  There is no law stating that you can't play with Barbies and then turn around and play with your Matchbox cars.  While everyone is talking about the Jersey Shore episode last night, it's more than OK to be more psyched about the premier of Doctor Who, Sherlock, or Downton Abbey, or the NASCAR race this weekend.
         I hope that I have taught you to just be who you are, and be happy about that weird, quirky, awesome person, because you have a heart so big, you can't help but spread it around and help those around you.  Whether it's some teenage drama, or a major family issue, or your friend fell and scraped a knee, you're there.  Both of you.  I have seen so much love come from you, I just hope you can realize how amazing that makes you.  When I went to Oklahoma with Team Rubicon, I missed you so terribly, but part of my reason for so desperately wanting to go was to show you that it was a good thing to help those who could never help you back.  To reach your hand out simply to pick someone up, not for them to pay you.
         I say all this to you because I want you to know that there is never, NEVER anything you can't handle.  Even if you think there's no way out, there's me.  I will always have my hand out to you.  If there is ever a time where your world goes dark, I want you to remember this and let me in, I'll bring a flashlight, and we'll find a way out together.  If you see a friend losing their hold on the light, I want you be there for them, or come to me.  I care about your friends almost as much as I care about you because they are your life when your away from home.  I know what it's like to lose someone you care so deeply for, and not have an answer as to why.
        There will be times where it seems like the light has gone out, I've been there.  You just have to reach out for that hand to guide you through the darkness.  After all, the sun must set to rise again.  I will always be there, to carry you on.  You saved my life, gave me meaning without ever even knowing you did.  I will spend my lifetime doing the same for you.

Forever weird and forever loving you,
Mom

Hope Whispered

   I've revised this post half a dozen times.  It wasn't coming out the way I wanted to express things.  I have so much to tell, so many feelings behind it all, I wasn't quite sure where to start.  Finally, it came to me.

     There are many stories out there of the personal impact made by the people of Moore, OK in the wake of their tragedy.  Quiet voices, smiles that hide deeper pain, a child's silent understanding that life would no longer be the same.  Everywhere you went, you literally ran into this stealthy wall.  It would hit you when you least expected it.
      I was quite gung-ho out there, my first deployment with Team Rubicon.  A group of people who held in reverence this silence, without ever needing to name it.  You fell right into the "ranks" when you got there, and there was no time to look back-nor did you really wish to anyway.  Every morning began with the raising of the flag (colors) in which each and every person stood perfectly still and silent until they were at full mast.  Every evening, the day concluded with the lowering of colors, and the same honor held as the morning.  Most of these men and women learned this as habit because of their time in the military, but even I, just a firefighter, felt the reverence in that small silence.  We were all there because we believe in this nation, and in it's people.  That meant helping, serving, doing whatever we could for those same people.  That simple act of raising and lowering a flag reminded us each day why we were there.

      Out for the day on a work site, most of the time it was dirty, grimy, rather smelly, backbreaking work.  None of that seemed to phase any of us.  We all would just keep grinding away at the task to be done.  There would be times where I'd look up and suddenly realize just how much we got done, or my TL would come by and say it was quitting time and I wondered where the day had gone.  I've never worked so hard in my life and loved every second of it all.

     It was hard to wrap your mind around what you were seeing most of the time.  You'd stop to take a drink of water and look around, trying to see above or past the piles of rubble around you.  It became where the small things grabbed your attention.  A child's toy train, a picture sticking out of the broken bricks, a small pile of coins you knew was some one's change jar or piggy bank before.  You knew that you were standing in the middle of some one's life, and it was jarring to see it reduced to nothing but scraps.  These possessions that someone once cared for and loved were now nothing but part of that pile you had tried so hard to look beyond earlier.  It occurred to me how someone could breakdown and lose all hope, lose faith in living.  No matter what though, I never felt that.  Through the muck and mud, broken glass and twisted metal, something else pushed me forward.  I could see it in the other members of my team, and the 100 members of Team Rubicon who were there in total.  We each groggily got up in the morning with the flick of a light switch and threw on work clothes and boots, got everything we needed for the day ready to go without a complaint (OK, maybe a complaint about a lack of coffee, but not a real complaint).  We were all tired, bruised and sore, but not one of us complained.  We all felt it, the unspoken reason we were all there-
                      Hope.
      When Pandora opened the jar the Zeus had given her and husband Epimetheus, she released upon mankind all the horrors and strife of the world.  After everything had escaped and ravaged the world around them, one last thing remained in the bottom of the jar.  It whispered to her to let it out.  That last item was hope.  Hope was the only thing that could outlast and outdo any and all of the ills she had released.  Hope looks at death, destruction and devastation and says, "Let's get to work."  Next thing you know, that which was once a scene of tragedy and sadness now stands a testament to the will of something or someone who saw that they were not defined by what was left behind.

     Whether we knew it or not, every single one of us on Team Rubicon heard this whisper.  We may not be able to define when or where we heard it, but it called to us quietly, called us to act upon it.  This was hope whispering in our ears, knowing that it needed us to be its instruments in Oklahoma.  It's what drove us forward each day, it's what makes a lot of us want to come back.  Hope is pervasive- once it gets out, it infects everyone and everything around.  This is why it was in Pandora's Box.  Even Zeus knew that for every evil, there must be a positive balance.  Hope is that balance.  While it can't repair a roof, or remove debris, it can inspire people who can. 

     We all went there for a reason, whatever it may have been.  We left changed.  I can no longer look at the world, weary from my day-to-day ails.  It will all pass.  There is always a better day beyond.  Today may seem like the worst you've ever had, but then you think of those toys in the rubble and the pile of change, and you realize, there's a light in the darkness.  You were that light.  You have it within you, and that, my friends, is something that never ever goes out.  Hope touched you, and you bent with its will, and you came out the better for it all.  

      Hope is what binds mankind together when it faced its darkest times.  It's what bound a group of scurvy pirates together in Oklahoma.  We never questioned why or what the point was.  We didn't have to.

Hope whispered....

     

I got my ticket for the long way 'round, the one with the prettiest of views

     So I finally got the email I've been waiting for, and honestly, hoping for.  I was convinced that it wouldn't come and nothing would happen.  Life would go on as usual.  It came though, and it really stirred me to think about things-the why and what of things.  Namely, why am I so excited and what can I possibly do that's anything worthwhile?

     I'm being deployed with Team Rubicon to Oklahoma to aid relief efforts.  If you don't know what Team Rubicon is, or have never heard of them, go HERE.  They're awesome.  No, I'm not a veteran, but I do possess the fire training and EMT training they're looking for.  

     So why am I so excited to go charging head first into a disaster?  To put myself in possible danger of another disaster?  Seems a *bit* odd, don't you think?  Well, I always wanted to be a firefighter and when I finally did, it was the most fulfilling thing I've ever done.  I guessed it was kind of ingrained in me to run into the places most people would run from.  Some people will tell you they have a "calling", something they were destined to do.  I never believed in that until I realized that I couldn't just stand by and watch while someone needed help.  It was a greater nagging thought than any anxiety ridden, OCD thought I've ever had.  It consumed me and I didn't feel right until I finally did something about it.  That's when I decided to join Team Rubicon, in the hopes that, if the need ever arose, I could help.  Well, it did when that F5 tornado hit Moore, OK.  Now, I'm going out to help someone start living their life again, to salvage even just a small piece of normalcy for someone who's world has been turned on it's head and spun like a top.  THIS is the thought that gives me such great joy.  THIS is what I can't wait to do.  I know that it's going to be gut-wrenching, heart breaking, and just damn hard work.  I went through all this with my grandparents after their house was devastated by Hurricane Katrina.  To watch them lose almost absolutely everything, still breaks my heart to this day.  I remember vividly how my Nanny (that's what we called my grand mom) cried as she carefully picked through the sodden remains of her hope chest.  I also learned more about both my grandparents that week than I ever had in my previous 27 years on earth (ooh...totally just gave away my age....oh well).  Their gratitude was something more than I could ever even fully take in.  It was a connection that touched them, and bounced back to me.  

     I asked myself over and over, 'Is this REALLY as selfless as you'd like others to believe it is?  Or are you looking for some sort of hero's glory?'  This bothered me.  I didn't think that those were my motives, but then am I really going to admit to MYSELF that' I'm just weird freak glory hunting?  Doubtful.  So, being the linear-minded being that I am, I set upon the task of examining the mental process I went through when I decided to sign up.  I remembered the days I spent wondering if it was the right thing to do, being a mother of two.  Is it fair to them that I do this?  While I came to the conclusion that probably no, it wasn't fair, I couldn't stop the nagging of the thought in my mind.  Then it hit me-there may not be a clear sense of fairness in this situation, but I'll be leading by example.  Help others for the sake of helping, not because you can get something out of them.  Would I want someone to help me were the roles reversed?  Absolutely.  Why not pay it forward?  They may miss me for a week, but what they learn will stick with them for a lifetime.  I don't even have to say a word to them.  They will look back on this time, later in life when they examine the roles their parents played in molding who they were and see what I did.  I'm very proud of that fact.
      Beyond what my children may get out this whole thing, someone out there in Oklahoma will be able to start their lives again, because I helped.  If I can give someone a brighter day, a smile, a wisp of a hope, then I've done what I feel "called" to do.  I can't justify in my head standing by watching while someone, many, out there would give all they have to only be worried about getting their daughter to lacrosse practice.  Many out there would give anything just to see their child again.  I am very blessed to have that luxury.
      In the end, I realized I was over thinking the whole thing and reassured myself that I was doing this for all the right reasons.  That somewhere in that dark sarcastic heart of mine, I actually did believe in the good of the world.  I believe that people can be so kind and beautiful if they let themselves see the world around them for the basics of what it is-humankind simply trying to make their way through something with an expiration date.  So why not make it beautiful along the way?  Why not help someone else's heart fill with gratefulness and beauty when all they stand in is devastation?
     I realized how much I crave a simple life.  I want to be able to just appreciate it and show others how wonderful it is, underneath all the noise and distractions and timetables.  I can give someone this beauty by simply being there to help. I have to go.
     My bags are packed, I'm ready to go....

Hey Soul Sista

     Memorial Day weekend.  Pools open, BBQ's fill the air with their seductive aroma, liquor distributors everywhere make a year's worth of income in two days, it's fantastic.  There's a reason why we call it Memorial Day though.  So often it's forgotten the price paid by so many children, fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, somebody who was loved by someone.  I am not pro-war (I'm not sure I actually know anyone who truly is FOR war), but I will forever support and thank those who willingly put themselves on the line so that I can worry about stupid things like whether or not my daughter is spending too much time on her cell phone.  I come from a long line of military personnel and I'm quite proud of this fact.  Both grandfathers fought in WWII, one was an infantryman, the other a fighter pilot (one of the first to fly jets).  My father worked in surveillance and retired a Major, and my brother and sister-in-law are both still active military, both commissioned officers and damn good at what they do.  By the grace of God, I have not lost a family member in the line of duty, and I'm not sure I would know what to do if I had.  Needless to say, it's rather ingrained in myself and the members of my family what a sense of duty means and what sacrifice could really mean.
      A week ago today the weather was quite different.  Overcast, kind of rainy at times, muggy but chilly, just crap weather.  Despite the gloom the clouds cast, the spirit of the day was excited, proud, optimistic, and grateful.  19 May 2013 Fredericksburg, VA, I ran my first half marathon.  That's right folks, I pushed this tush 13.1 miles and up the longest and most aggravating hill known to mankind.  The Marine Corps Historic Half was an experience not to ever be forgotten.
     I, being a novice runner, had invoked the help of my crazy older sister earlier this year.  She's kind of, how do you say... awesome?  She's run 8 marathons so far and I don't know if she's ever even counted the half's.  I ran (sorry, bad pun) into lots of my own obstacles on my way to this distance-severe anemia, severe allergies that triggered asthma (damn northeast), and just generally being out of shape.  She guided me along, helping me figure out nutrition and ways to increase my mileage, and how to not push myself too far (something else common in my family-we're Clydesdales, we'll go until someone tells us to stop).  So, after the events in Boston, and me being paranoid and feeling guilty for possibly risking my family's safety just to see me fall over the finish line, I asked my sister to come with me (because you know, risking her safety was OK-she could out run the danger, I was sure of it).  Also, my daughter had lacrosse games all weekend.
     Down to VA we trekked, and had quite a pleasant car ride (we rarely get a chance to really talk).  She guided me through the expo where I had to pick up my race packet with my bib, etc.  I was like a little kid that was thrown into Disney for the first time-wide-eyed and overwhelmed, felt like a sugar high without the obligatory Pixi Stix and Jolt cola.  She was giddy-GIDDY.  I'm not sure I've ever seen her giddy before.  We checked out the vendors, spent some money, and decided to go get dinner.  I was nervous, but not horribly nervous.  Which was odd.  I get nervous at the thought of making a phone call, now here I was, new to distance running and running with THOUSANDS of other people.  Why wasn't I curling up in the corner?  I think it was her energy.  She was so excited and confident IN ME that there was no real room for worry.
     We get up in the morning, get ready for the run, eat, and we're out the door.  We got to the starting corrals and we agreed upon a point along the course that she would meet me, got a stranger to take a picture of us together, hugged me, screamed with excitement a little bit, and off she went.

 (just in case you were confused-I'm the one in the pink, though the race bib may have given it away)

     Now it was just me.  People watching and feeling rather invisible-which was a good thing for once. It made me realize that no one there was going to care how fast or slow I was, or if I ran like Phoebe from FRIENDS (yeah, you know what I'm talking about).  It was a comfortable feeling.  The military presence was overwhelming, but not in any bad way.  It felt safe, felt right.  Lots of Marines, everywhere.  Definitely no problem with that.  They gave the invocation and then played the national anthem.  That was when I almost burst out into tears, but I didn't want to risk not being able to breathe as I ran because of the excess snot from crying.  There were Marines in each time corral.  The one in mine happen to be standing only about two feet away from me, directly in front of me.  Such a young man, maybe 20ish, as soon as the first note played he turned sharply and saluted the flag that hung to the left of us.  He never wavered, he never looked away from that flag, he didn't move until the last note of music stopped playing.  This young man didn't know me, nor I him, but if called, he would go and lay down his life to protect mine.  It was an overwhelming feeling of awe and gratitude.  I was actually at a loss of words (shocking, I know).
     BOOM. Canon is fired and we're off.  We slowly move forward, and then before I know it, I'm running.  At first I was just looking around for my sister wondering how I'd ever see her with all the people who were lining the street.  Pure adrenaline.  Then I saw her, just a short distance into the run.  She was cheering for me like I was One Direction and she was 13 again.  It wasn't put on, or fake joy-it was that giddiness I saw the night before.  It was immediately infectious.  We high fived and quickly exchanged our next meet point and off I was again.  I was fascinated by the course, the people, everything around me as I ran.  What amazed me most were the people that were out cheering us on.  At first I thought they were just friends and families of the runners, but then I realized as we passed through some quite beautiful neighborhoods, they were just random people standing out in the rain cheering for us.  At every street crossing, closure, corner, water station, etc. there were Marines lined up cheering us on, handing out water and Gatorade and from the first ones I saw cheering for US, I felt it seemed backwards.  We should be cheering them on as we passed.  Full fatigues, in the rain, cheering on a bunch of silly runners.  So when I had enough breath, I would shout "Thank you!" to them as I ran by.  Then I saw a young lady just a short ways in front of me.  She was a recovering cancer patient and I noticed her because every Marine she came upon, she would stop and shake their hands.  It was an amazing show of the human spirit in one little gesture from one person.  I think I smiled up until about mile 9.
    Found my sister again around mile 5.5 and she began to run with me.  Just because.  She was like my own little guru spurring me on.  Her energy was contagious and beautiful.  We laughed and posed for the photographers along the course, she renewed my energy like a shot of speed.  We admired the cute shops along the downtown part of the route, she relayed messages from my hubs to me and I back to him (remember kids-only professionals can text and run-don't try this at home).  Then at mile 8, she left me to get to our next meet point.  Started to get tired by mile 9, because it seemed like the LONGEST mile ever.  She met up with me again at mile 10, which is where "The Hill" began.  Two miles of nothing but uphill.  I mean CONSTANT UPHILL RUNNING.  She boosted me up, kept my spirits up as I took it in pieces, even though my legs wanted to fall off.  She was positively bubbling over with excitement.  Mile 11, she asked if I wanted her to stay with me or go ahead to the finish.  I told her to go ahead so that she could be there when I finished, so off she ran.  There was no other way for her to get to the finish except to run the rest of the course!  So, that's what she did.  All to be there for me.  She conquered the rest of the hill and positioned herself in the crowd and waited.  Just for me.
    I struggled through to mile 12 and then pushed myself to run, no matter what, that last 1.1 miles to the finish line.  People were passing the opposite way, wearing their medals, having already finished.  They clapped and cheered us on as we passed.  The finish line was now in sight.  Then I see her-screaming and jumping up and down, I couldn't help but smile and scream a little myself.  When I say her enthusiasm was infectious, I'm talking Bio hazard level 4, Ebola infectious.  She whipped out her camera, shouting something I couldn't hear, so I just made faces and smiled as I ran past and finally over the finish line.
      She came around and almost tackled me with hugs!  I was sweaty and smelly but she didn't care at all.  She hugged me so tight and just kept telling me how proud of me she was.  I told her I couldn't have done it without her, but she didn't believe me.  Her excitement, joy, enthusiasm and belief in me is what kept me going.  I have never run that far before in my life.  The longest distance I've done was 10 miles.  I couldn't believe that I was smiling through most of the run.  The whole atmosphere of the race and everyone in it was beyond amazing.  Then, to have her there boosting me up, running even though she didn't have to run at all, she made me feel like I belonged there, like I deserved to be there with all these people who were "true runners".  She believed in me, more than I could have ever believed in myself.  I really could not have done it without her.  She was my driving force, and I'm so thankful to have her in my life and as an inspiration.  I am proud to say that I'll be running the full Marine Corps Marathon (that's 26.2 miles!) with her in October!  My first, her tenth.  I'm already excited and it's still 5 months away!  This is how amazing she is-she makes 26.2 miles of running EXCITING.  I feel like a REAL runner now, I've accomplished something.  You know how first impressions are lasting impressions, well, she made the lasting impression of that achievement a wonderful one.  She impacted something deep within me, dare I say, in my soul.  She made me feel proud of myself and what I've done and that I SHOULD be proud of what I'd done.  She made me feel worthy of those cheers (though I still feel backwards about the Marines cheering us on).
        So here's proof that I finished (trust me, it's real-I don't know how to work photo shop)

  All thanks to my incredible, GIDDY, and inspirational sister.  By the way, she took this picture as well.  DAMN that girl is good!