Home Again

Ten years. That's a long time to make memories. Collin was sad that we wouldn't be living as close to him anymore. After all, we just got back to town. Mac perfectly understood why we wanted to downsize a bit and move. Autumn is the furthest away, and I was feeling especially sad that she wouldn't get to come home and see the inside of the house one last time. She felt sad about it, too. 

Moving weekend came, and I was worried that Verne would be in agony after such intense work. Thankfully, a great group of young men from the homeschool athletic association that Verne started several years back came to the rescue. They carried heavy boxes and furniture for several hours on Friday evening, lightening Verne's load immensely. Mac arrived later that night to help the next day, and Collin showed up on Saturday as well. 

We just crawled into bed on Friday when fear struck Verne. He had borrowed a delivery truck from work to transport our things. It was bigger than anything he had ever driven. While he felt confident on the interstate, he was fretting over how in the world he was going to get it into the crowded streets of the city neighborhood where we would be renting for the next five weeks. But God! 

Just as I was drifting off to sleep, Verne sprang up. "Tracy! Nathan!"

What about him? Verne had only met Nathan the month before when he started his subbing rotation in the children's Sunday School class on Thy Will be Done. Nathan and his fiancé had been assigned as classroom helpers to Verne. 

Verne went on to say that Nathan was a city firefighter and would likely know how to maneuver the large truck in tight spaces. Providentially, Nathan had offered to help unload the truck once we arrived in our new city. He sent Nathan a message, and Nathan said he would be happy to drive the truck into the neighborhood. What a relief, and a blessing! God provides! Verne drove the truck to within two miles of the house where he met Nathan in a large parking lot, and Nathan took it from there. 

Closing day came, (we moved out a week early because they took immediate possession), and we walked through the house one last time, stopping to take pictures on the porch steps. I was sad, but also excited to start a new chapter in our lives. 

After five weeks in the rental on the opposite side of town from where we had house sat in the first half of the year and where we now live, we learned even more about the city-new shortcuts, things to do, places to eat. I'm thankful for our time there, but I was more than ready to live in our own home. 

The men at the church rallied once more and helped move us a final time. As the men were unloading the truck a neighbor came to meet us. The next evening a group of neighborhood children knocked on the door, their bikes neatly lined up on the sidewalk, and helmets in hand. They wanted to welcome us. Various neighbors have stopped by to say hello. Children ride their bikes, scooters, and run the streets with superhero capes. Yes, God brought us to just the right place, and took care of every detail getting us here. 

Thy Will Be Done

For the past ten years we've lived in the same home. That's longer than we've lived anywhere as a married couple, and longer than anywhere I've lived in my entire life. Our home was a true blessing. It was spacious and comfortable, and although we bought it new, we made it truly ours by finishing the garage space into 2 more bedrooms and a bath, adding two gas fireplaces, board and batten, adding a deck, and more. 

The years flew by and the children grew older. One by one, they left the nest and left us in a house far too big for three people. We were driving 90 minutes one way to get to church, and put our house on the market with hopes of a quick sale. Two years is not quick. 

Last October, a couple from our church approached us one Sunday morning with a proposition of sorts. She is a professor and was going to be teaching in Europe from December 31 until early July, and they didn't want to leave their home vacant over the winter. Knowing that our home was for sale and that we were desiring to move to their area, they asked us if we might pay a small amount of rent to stay in their home. We prayed and prayed, looked at our finances, and decided to say yes. Our hope was that our home would sell in the time we were house-sitting and we could be mortgage-free, allowing us to save money. We could then buy a home in the summer. Not being in our home would allow it to be shown at a moment's notice without us having to make everything look just so. 

And so, on December 31, 2013, we loaded winter clothing, school books, and kitchen things up, and set up housekeeping in a house that didn't belong to us. We lived with their furniture, and most of their clothing still hanging in the closets. It was...odd. I haven't posted a lot this year, but not one person questioned when my kitchen suddenly looked entirely different than it had before. 

We hoped and prayed, and I looked at oodles of homes that were for sale. Winter was harsh, and spring came along. Still, our house sat. Verne had to travel back weekly to mow the yard, weed the flower gardens, and keep up maintenance on our home. I'd go back once a month or so to give everything a quick dusting, run the vacuum, and make sure everything looked just right. We were both starting to feel like our own home wasn't even ours. That's a strange feeling! 

Spring turned to summer, and finally, one day in June we got an offer. We were elated! We made an offer on a home. It would work out perfectly that we could stay in the house we were sitting in until closing day for both properties. 

And then it all fell through. The prospective buyers for our home couldn't get financing. I was spending the day with Autumn and Abigail when Verne called me with the news. He had taken care of everything, letting our realtor know that we wouldn't be able to purchase the home we had a contract on. 

The next evening we took Abigail to youth group, and went for a drive. Suddenly, the rainbow in the photo appeared. We were so upset. Distraught, really, and it was as if God was telling us that He cared for us and it would be okay. Still the news was hard to swallow. 

Way back at the beginning of the year, Verne talked to the Director of Children's Ministries at our church and told him he'd be willing to teach Sunday School as a substitute. He never heard anything again until the week our house fell through. Verne was asked to teach Sunday School for the entire month of July. The children were studying the Lord's Prayer, and Verne's month was on "Thy will be done." 

As Verne taught each week, he shared with me that he didn't know if the children were learning anything, but he sure was. It was as if God was speaking directly to him with each lesson. Mid- July we packed our things and went back home. As much as we wanted our house to sell, we were both at peace. 

The day after we returned home we got a phone call. The house had been shown four days prior, and the people decided to make an offer. We accepted. The house we were going to buy previously had already sold, and we made an offer on another home. We were both really excited as we liked this home much better than the first one. The day for inspections came, and we couldn't wait to get back into the house to see it again. Only, as we entered the house the inspector looked uneasy. He had bad news. Very bad news. Invisible to the naked eye, he had found quite a bit of water damage, roof damage, and active termites. We were deflated. There was a bit of going back and forth with the seller, asking for things to be repaired. To be honest, they agreed to most of what we asked for, but we were still very uneasy. We decided to walk away from the house. It was three weeks before we had to be out of our home, and we had no idea where were were going to live. 

Back to the internet I went, scouring the webpages for homes for sale. I had seen most of what was on the market in our price range. Pickings were slim. I found six homes that could work, and set up an appointment with our realtor. As the day of our appointment drew near, Verne asked me what I wanted for our 25th wedding anniversary, which just so happened to be the day were were going to look at houses. I replied, "I want a home." 

As a homemaker, it isn't easy to be displaced for 7 months, not really being able to make things yours, and living with someone else's things. Once I was back in my house, I was too busy packing up to enjoy it. 

August 5th arrived, our 25th anniversary, and we set off. The list dwindled as one homeowner wasn't willing for us to view their home that day, and another house had renters that needed more notice. As we walked into "the one", we both knew. We loved the yard, and the house felt like home. We continued on through the list, had some lunch with our realtor, and asked if we could go back to "the one". 

Our closing was a short ten days away and we knew that even if the sellers accepted our offer, there would be no way we could have everything done in time to move into the new home. We also knew no one would want to rent to us for just a few weeks. It was looking like we might have to stay in a hotel, and that was going to get expensive really quickly. Plus, we have pets. Our realtor suddenly mentioned that a couple from our church had just listed their second home for sale the night before. I quickly asked if she thought they might rent to us short term. Of course I'd be willing to let potential buyers come and look. 

The realtor made a quick phone call, and got a "Yes!" This was such a blessing to us, and it turns out, a blessing for them as well. They didn't have to make two payments this way. Needless to say, we negotiated, and came to an agreement with the sellers of the house we loved. 

That's not the end of the story of how God worked out every little detail. Maybe I'll tell the rest tomorrow. ;)

We Ran a Marathon, and it was Monumental

Be warned, this is a long post!

After 18 weeks of training which included 714 miles, several pairs of shoes, aches and pains, blisters, scorching temperatures, massages, sunrise after sunrise, and plenty of encouragement from several running friends we arrived in Indianapolis last Thursday evening for our first marathon. We're in agreement that the road to the race was just as significant as the race itself. Training together for hours on end, encouraging one another, and working toward a common goal made us closer and strengthened our marriage.

 It was cold and rainy when we arrived in Indy Thursday evening. Stormy, actually. I prayed that we wouldn't have to run in a torrential downpour come Saturday morning.

We headed to the expo to pick up our packets containing our shirts and race bibs. Verne was smiling from ear to ear. He'd wanted to run a marathon for years, and the moment was finally getting close. I'm so glad I trained for this marathon with him. It's one thing to watch someone that you love enjoy something, but I think it makes it even more special to participate with them.

We spent the rest of the evening relaxing and enjoying dinner. Traveling for a race is a bit different than just going on vacation as you need to be careful of what you eat. I can easily get a migraine when eating out because of MSG, and I have to be very careful of my choices. And no one needs an upset stomach on race day. We ended up at PF Changs where I ordered a bland dish of quinoa and garden veggies topped with an egg. Though it wasn't extremely flavorful, it was a good choice.

On Friday, we attempted to drive the race course, but it took us nearly 30 minutes to get 4 miles, and we called it quits. There was too much traffic, and too many one way streets to be successful. We had baked potatoes for lunch, and I had a cup of chicken noodle soup alongside mine. Verne chose a salad, and was a little bit sorry later.

The rain had stopped, and we walked several miles in the afternoon, went through the expo again, and ended up right on Monumental Circle where I splurged and got a haircut. Verne waited for me in the relaxation room, and then we walked some more.

Most runners eat pasta the night before a race, and while I love pasta, sometimes the acid in the tomato sauce can upset my stomach. We had decided that we were going to be untraditional carb-loaders and have pancakes. It worked!

We were in bed early Friday night, and surprisingly we both slept pretty well. The alarm sounded at 5:30 Saturday morning, and I hopped out of bed and began packing my suitcase. We had to check out of our room before running the race since we knew we'd not make it back to the hotel for the 11 am mandatory checkout. Verne headed to the lobby to toast some bagels we had brought from home, and was met with envy from other runners when they realized that the hotel wasn't offering them for breakfast. We topped our bagels with peanut butter and shared a 16 oz bottle of orange juice. After carrying everything out to the car, we waited in the warmth of the hotel lobby until it was time to walk the half mile or so to the start.

The sidewalks were lined with other race participants and everyone was very friendly- especially the ones from Pittsburgh wearing Steelers attire. ;-) It's funny how you can sleep a stone's throw from Lucas Oil Stadium and not see one Colts fan, but meet several Steelers fans in five minutes.

It was much darker than these photos show as we waited for the race to start. We had prayed together in the hotel, but Verne prayed with me again as we lined up in the crowd.

It took a few minutes after the start to feel like we were making any progress, as the streets were crowded with runners and clothing they had shed just as the race began. We waited until about mile 3 to remove our top layers and left them on the side of the road.

Both of us felt unusually relaxed considering the daunting task ahead of us. We ran and talked, and I loved looking over at Verne and seeing the smile on his face. He was finally running his marathon. I felt much more emotional watching his delight than anything I may have been feeling.

I don't remember much about the early spectators, but I really started enjoying the crowds around mile 5 or 6. This is about the point that I usually really start enjoying my runs, anyway. Those early miles don't excite me. I'm definitely more of a distance runner.

Back to the crowds- I loved how many people lined the streets of the neighborhoods we were passing through. I loved that young children stood at the road's edge to give the runners a high five. I loved that people were blasting music from speakers set up on their driveways. I loved the guys who sat on the side of the road and played guitar and sang. I admired the creative signs that spectators had made, and that they made eye contact and called us by name as they encouraged us. (Our first names were on our bibs.)

Some of my favorite signs:

* You Run Better than Our Government
* Run, Random Stranger, Run!
* Pain is Temporary, Results are on the Internet Forever!
* YOU are AWE inspiring!

Around Mile 20 there was a girl on the side of the road with a yellow poster board sign that said, "Punch here! Guaranteed to Give You an Energy Burst! No one passed her without punching the designated "punching spot". You have no idea until you've experienced it just how the acts and encouragement of random strangers can affect you.

Of course there were water/aid stations, but residents lined the streets and handed out fruit snacks, water, candy, pretzels, and beer.

I loved that people had their dogs out, and that the dogs seemed to be cheering us on. The entire race Verne would ask me, "What breed is that?", and I'd answer. It was great to occupy my mind with something that I love.

Speaking of occupying my mind, most people don't realize that running is just as much mental as physical. I quote Scripture to myself when the going gets tough. I sing songs in my head, and thankfully, Verne and I had each other to talk to. One of my favorite things about the Monumental Marathon were the trivia facts around mile 19, if I remember correctly. There were signs set up with a trivia question, and just a short time later there was another sign with the answer. This was a great mental break for me, and I heard others commenting about it as well. Sometimes when a run gets boring I think about quilt blocks. It didn't happen during this race, though.

I'm happy to say that I never "hit the wall" during the marathon. My stomach did feel very crampy around mile 20. I had nibbled on a Honey Stinger waffle, ingesting only about half of it when I started feeling bad. I mentioned it to Verne and then immediately saw an aid table with a sign advertising that they had bananas. JOY! and then disappointment as I realized that they had run out of fruit. On the table were pretzels, Jolly Ranchers, and fun size Snickers. I looked at the Snickers, and thought about the fact that I needed fuel, but also going through my mind was "Nothing new on race day!" I hadn't trained with Snickers. In fact, I hadn't eaten a Snickers bar for years. For some unknown reason, I found myself grabbing and unwrapping that candy bar and taking a bite. Instantly, I felt better. It was the weirdest thing!

That was truly my only struggle through the race. Verne struggled in a different way. His hamstrings felt tight around mile six, and by mile 13 he was in serious pain and feared he was getting a Charlie horse. If I haven't mentioned it before, not only did we train together, but we decided to run the marathon together. Not just at the start, but the entire 26.2 miles. My delight in watching his excitement, and praising God that we could share this together quickly turned to prayer for mercy and strength for Verne. I knew we'd finish, but I didn't want him to be disappointed if we had to walk for miles and miles. I kept a watch on the time, and reminded him when it was time to take another SaltStick cap. I suggested he eat a few of the pretzels we packed with us. The cramps were getting worse in his legs despite trying to fight them off, and around mile 22 he needed to walk. We walked just a short distance, and he was ready to try running again. The running didn't last too long before I could tell he was in excruciating pain. I suggested we move to the side of the road and stop for a minute while I would try to rub the cramp out of his leg. He agreed. I rubbed his thigh in the offending spot as hard as I could, and we tried running again. This happened twice, and we had to alternate running and walking for a few miles. Verne kept apologizing, and I kept telling him not to. We were in this together. We are a  team, and he wasn't letting me down. Finally, at mile 25 my inner drill-sergeant kicked in and I told Verne that we could run slowly, but we weren't walking anymore. I know it was a struggle with his cramps, but he's glad we ran that last bit of the distance.

When we passed the sign for mile 26, I don't think he was feeling much pain. Verne took my hand and we sprinted for the finish. Now, Verne's over a foot taller than me, and holding hands and running with someone isn't easy. I felt like I was being taken along for a ride. We crossed the finish at the exact same moment, and fell into each other's arms. There was no one there to witness our finish(that we knew) except each other. Our official time was 4:24:28.

Immediately after finishing, we were given medals, solar blankets, and a water. I appreciated that the volunteer was opening the waters as he handed them to the finishers. Such a small act, but I thanked him for it. We both grabbed a banana, and started walking back toward the course hoping to see a few other runners from our town. In this sea of people, as we walked along the sidewalk we ran across a young man from our homeschool athletic team and his dad. Verne has coached the boys in this family for basketball, and we've coached them together for track and cross country. Here we were, five hours from home, seeing familiar faces. It was great to be able to walk and talk with them. Andrew was visiting a college, and they had hoped to watch us finish.

We walked two miles before driving south to the hotel where we'd be spending the night. Verne had arranged a hotel with a jacuzzi in the room where we could enjoy the evening. Once arriving at the hotel we stretched for nearly an hour, enjoyed the jacuzzi, and dressed for dinner. We hadn't really had much to eat all day and we were beginning to feel hungry.

Back when I first started walking, a friend of mine suggested that Verne and I take a trip somewhere to reflect the mileage that we were accumulating. I guess this was that trip, though it came much later than anticipated. It was like a honeymoon of sorts, with a really long run thrown in. Verne doted on me, and made me feel special, as he does every day. It's a joy to be his partner in running, and in everyday life.

I've been asked several questions, so I'll answer them here. If you have any more, feel free to ask!

What was the farthest you ran before the marathon? We were scheduled for 20 miles. Verne did that, but I threw my back out and had to skip the long run that week. The most I ever went was 19.

You and V stayed together- I would imagine as a male he is a faster runner than you- so how did that work out? Well, let me tell you that we've been asked this a lot. The Monday before the marathon, Verne's boss was here for dinner and asked if I'd be able to keep up with Verne. I was offended, but kept it to myself. After the marathon, a (male)friend of our ours who is training for a half marathon asked Verne if he had to slow down for me. Um, no.

In 2012, I beat Verne in a 5k (3.1 miles), a 5 mile race, a 10k (6.2 miles), and a half marathon (13.1 miles). He also beat me plenty of times. That being said, we aren't exactly evenly matched. Most of the time, Verne's going to beat me in a shorter race. He sprints better than I do. As I explained above, shorter distances aren't my thing. My body doesn't feel wonderful the minute I start running. It takes me several miles to warm up and feel really good. Because we trained together so much for this race, we were very used to running at the same pace. It wasn't difficult at all to stay together.

Do you know if your pace was consistent throughout, or did you run faster for like the first half? 
The plan was to run the first half slower, pick up around mile 18, and then again around 23 or 24. Plans don't always go the way you think they will. We started too fast. I'm the one that keeps us on pace. My runs are usually really consistent. Our first mile was 9:11. I wanted it to be 10:00. I told Verne we needed to slow down, and our second mile was 9:41. Miles 3- 12 were very close to a 9:30 pace, and then Verne cramped at mile 13 and we slowed. Obviously the miles we had to run/walk were slower and we ended with a 10:06 pace.

Why did you do a race in Indiana? I really dislike the heat, so we wanted a fall race. Indiana was advertised as flat, and a great course for first time marathoners. It fell at a good time of year.

How did the cold/heat affect you throughout? The temperatures were perfect. It was about 41°F at the start, and about 52°F when we finished. I felt really warm the last 3 miles or so because the sun was really bright, and was glad that I had worn a sleeveless tank.

How was your recovery? Honestly, recovery was great. We walked 2 miles after the race. We stayed on the second floor of the hotel, and I made us walk down the stairs several times that day and the next morning. We walked around an outlet mall after dinner the evening of the race. I think keeping active helped immensely. I did have really bad lower back pain on Sunday, but after we walked following the race, I stood in the cold for close to 30 minutes before we left for the hotel. I think I held myself stiff because I was cold, and it hurt my back. The long drive back home didn't help, either. We stopped and went to church before coming the rest of the way home, but that was more sitting. Monday we walked a little over 3 miles, and I ran 2 miles, and walked again on Wednesday. That evening we both had massages. I don't feel at all like I ran a marathon. Verne's legs are still sore. That cramping takes awhile to go away. He ran 2 miles for the first time this morning.

Are you happy with your time? Yes, and no. The goal for your first marathon should be to finish it, with no time expectations. I don't know anyone who does that, though. I knew that realistically we should be able to finish between 4:10 and 4:30. I'm disappointed that it took us closer to the 4:30, but I'm also pleased that with the complications we had that we came in under the mark.

I was texting with my friend and fellow runner, Amy, in the afternoon following the marathon and sharing my feelings with her. Here's her reply to me:

Ahhh....I recall feeling the exact same way, happy to have finished, but a little disappointed I hadn't finished faster. What I think is important is that YOU DID IT!  You accomplished something so many people never will, something some people only dream of, something some people would die to be able to do just once.  Think of all those runners out there that will never run a marathon, that will never do it in the time you did, those that are injured now and couldn't run, or pregnant like me who'd love to have raced today.  The gift is being of able mind and body to accomplish such a feat. The number to focus on isn't so much your finishing time, which I believe is awesome by the way.  It's all the hours, days, weeks, and months that you put into preparing for it.  That's the real accomplishment.  And more than anything, I think the most special part of it all was doing the training and the race with your life partner.  First marathons, like any firsts, are special, but yours was special in a way that is quite unique and different than most everyone else.  You shouldn't feel anything but happiness and pride right now.   I'd trade a faster time in any day for having had the opportunity to run my first, our first, with Matt.  You may forget the time.  You won't forget the circumstance.

And you know what? She's absolutely right!

October 2013

Recipe for the popcorn bars can be found here. I HIGHLY recommend adding nuts. 

October came, and now it's nearly gone. I completed another trip around the sun. I gave and received snuggles, cooked soups and scones, ate goodies, oversaw Abigail's lessons, finished two quilt tops, and ran. And ran. And ran.

Three more sleeps until Verne and I run our marathon. I think we'll both be glad for the time change that night.

Running

Some days I sit in front of my computer, click over to this blog and start to type.  And then I feel paralyzed. I wonder, does anyone care what I have to say; do they really want to see what I've sewn, or what I cooked for dinner? Does anyone have to care, or can I journal it just for me? The minutes, hours, days, and years are slipping by and I do enjoy having a record of them.

Sometimes, people email me and ask me questions, and I still feel paralyzed. I'm not an expert on anything, to be sure. I dabble in LOTS of things! When it comes to running I feel especially under-qualified to answer questions, and yet, I've been asked... by several people. And then it occurred to me. Maybe I'm being asked because I'm not an expert... maybe I'm being asked because it's less intimidating  than approaching someone who seems to have it all together. So, finally, here we are. To those of you whom have been anticipating this post, please accept my apology in delaying for such a long time.

I've been often asked how I got started running. Or more importantly, how someone else should start. My answer? Start slowly. Really slowly. As a matter of fact, if you're new to exercise I'd start with walking. That's exactly what I did. But a word of advice? Build your mileage much slower than I did. The first month I walked I covered 203 miles. That's way too much. Aim for 60-90 miles at a brisk pace. I know even that can seem daunting to a beginner, but it's doable. And it does get easier pretty quickly.

You can read more about the start of my walking career here.

Once I'd been walking for 4 months I set out for my first run. Because I'd been so diligent about my daily walks, and because I'd pushed myself to walk briskly, I was able to transition to running with no problems. Depending on your age, I'd say the same would happen for most people. You can read a little more about my transition from walking to running here.

 Us, at 5:30 am, after we've already run 6 miles. 

Another question I've been asked- do I follow a plan, or listen to my body? Well, I've done both. Personally, I think listening to your body is the best way to go, but you have to really listen. In the beginning of my running career I definitely listened to my body. If I really felt too tired, and didn't just feel like being lazy, I'd take the day off. If I went out for a run and felt great I'd go farther than I intended. If I set out to do a longer run but grew too tired or wasn't feeling well I'd cut my run short. I trained for my first half marathon this way, and ran the full distance that the race would cover seven times before the actual race. I didn't wear myself out, or become injured. It's important to note here that I wasn't afraid to take a day off during those weeks, or to run just two or three miles on some days.

Verne and I began training for a full marathon last January, and when I started following the schedule more strictly, and switched to a different surface, I did injure myself. We put the marathon aside and I had to stop running for eight weeks. Now you might see why I think listening to your body is so important.

How have I gotten faster? Well, fast is a relative term. I'm faster than I was when I first started, to be sure, but I'm slower than I was at this time last year.

After my first half marathon, the days grew warmer and I decided to try speed work one day a week. I figured the faster running would make up for the fewer miles I was running when I was too hot to be comfortable on a long run. It worked. My times got faster last summer despite the heat and shorter runs. I searched out hills, and would sprint up them. I'd often do fartleks on shorter runs. These strategies all led to faster miles. 

Oh! And I raced. Competition is great for increasing your time if you're competitive. I raced a lot last year. Competition isn't just about beating the person in front of you, it's about beating yourself. This year, because of my injury, I've only raced twice. 

Our 24th anniversary- we ran several miles together early that morning. 

To be honest, the injury isn't the only thing that's kept me from competing this year. Last summer, running was new to me. I loved growing faster, and pushing my body to see what I could do. This year, my goals are a bit different.

After I recovered from my injury and picked my mileage back up, Verne and I started to discuss a marathon again. He's wanted to run a marathon for years, and put his dreams on hold when I became injured so that we could run together. Though it would be hard to train through the hot summer months, we picked a race in the fall to aim for.

We're back to following a schedule, and we're 12 weeks in to an 18 week training plan. There's no speed work on my calendar. No races. When I'm running 40+ miles a week in the heat I find I'm too drained to add those things in.

Rain or shine, light or dark, we're out there, day after day. The blessing is that we're in this together. We encourage one another when one of us is having a hard time carrying on.

I've never seen so many beautiful sunrises in my entire life as I have this summer.

I'm so thankful for all of these miles with my husband.

This training has been tough. Some days are easier than others, to be sure, but some days I just pray silently that the LORD would give me His strength to get through the run.

As I run up the hills I recite Psalm 121 in my mind. And once I reach the top, Philippians 4:13 fills my thoughts. Praying for others fills the moments that I find difficult, and takes my mind off of myself. 

We may have to postpone again, this time because Verne is feeling some pain. We're allowing him to listen to his body, which is by far the better way to train. It's never good to become a slave to a program.

I'll leave you with a little motivation. What if, by heading out the door each morning you could take in sights like this. They're there for the viewing. What are you waiting for?


If you have any questions, I'm happy to answer in the comments. Ask away!

Wedding Season

We were invited to two summer weddings within a few weeks of one another. Autumn was to be in the first, and Mac was in the latter. He was a groomsman as well as helping with the music for the ceremony.

As I perused the registries of the perspective couples I noticed that although these two brides had unique preferences, they seemed to like a few similar, though not identical things, particularly when it came to setting the table. Keeping these similarities in mind, I entered the fabric store and chose a few coordinating pieces that seemed suitable to the tastes of both women.

I decided to make each couple a reversible table runner, and rounded out the gift with cloth napkins and a white serving dish. Thought not entirely identical, the runners are pretty close. 

I pieced the two runners fairly quickly, then set about the work of basting, and finally quilting and binding. 

All of that hard work made me hungry, and I wanted to see how the white plates looked against the patchwork. I was pleased!

Anna and Morgan were the first couple to wed. They had a beautiful June afternoon wedding. 

Their wedding was beautiful, and the reception was so much fun. It was great to catch up with old friends. 

Meanwhile, Verne had a great time dancing with Autumn and Abigail. 

Anna and Morgan's finished runner, 

and their serving piece.

Ben and Shelby were the second couple to marry, and had a gorgeous outdoor wedding at a winery. It threatened to rain, but the weather held off and the setting was perfect. 

Abigail looked like she could have been part of the wedding party. She certainly matched Mac's bow tie!

Ben and Shelby's finished table runner and serving piece. 

Ah, weddings! They sure are fun!

Saturday Morning Date

For years he asked me to join him, and for years I turned him down. "Wanna run with me?" He asked me nearly every single morning, and the answer was always no.

Not only do I like running now, but I truly love the look on his face when he asks me, "Wanna run with me?", and I respond, "Sure!" I can tell that he's genuinely thrilled to be sharing one of his favorite pastimes with me. We're training for a half-marathon, and yesterday morning we stole away to run 9 miles together.

He's ever the gentleman, and carries water for me. And a handkerchief in case I need to wipe my brow. He slows to my pace when I need him to, and compliments me when he has to fall in behind me single-file because of traffic. Something along the lines of, "Well, this is a nice view!"

We finished the 9 mile run, and walked a mile and a half to cool down. He stole a kiss even though I was sweaty, and held my hand. He picked me a roadside bouquet, and took me to Starbucks. Running and romance? It was a perfect Saturday date!