Beautiful

Recently I ran a 5K. The morning temp not too sweltering which made for a great race day. After crossing the finish line, I was reminded why I love mornings like this when so much has been accomplished before 8 am. As I took a long drink from the water bottle handed to me, I saw a woman bound across the finish line. I guessed she was in her early 40's, with short cropped hair and a bright pink t-shirt on. Her momentum seemed to steer her directly in my path and I promise you, I have never seen someone this giddy or this enthusiastic after a run: 5K, 10K, or 2 blocks. Her smile never left her face and as she passed me, she said, "Good morning." 

I responded, "You take finishing a race to a whole new level. I love your energy."

"Honey, life is beautiful. I can run! I will celebrate this day. I have beaten cancer that should have taken my life decades ago. And I am 65 years old today."

There are those unpredictable moments when you briefly get caught in the prism of someone else's shimmer and gold. And despite how much you would love to capture that luminosity, you know it is so authentic and rare that you will only witness it as long as your conversation lasts. 

And 65? Amazing. I wanted to hug her. And I was happy enough to be in her path of light even for a minute. If given those circumstances, would I radiate that brightly? Or shouldn't we try to radiate that brightly despite the circumstances? And yes, walking back to my car I certainly reiterated that I loved mornings like this when not only has so much accomplished before 8 am but when an unexpected reminder that life is beautiful greets you with more power than the morning sun.

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*for some additional beauty today, come visit my guest post at The Bottom of the Ironing Basket.

A picture is worth so many words

 

Sgt. Andrew Cuce of Gastonia, N.C., embraces his daughter Alyssa, 3, after arriving at the National Guard Armory in Lincolnton, N.C., on Jan. 26. Two busloads of soldiers, made up mostly of members of the N.C. Army National Guard Battery A, 1st Battalion, 113th Field Artillery, returned home to their families after a nine-month deployment to Iraq.

I saw this photo while reading MSNBC.com yesterday. As my eyes lingered on it, it reminded me of multiple things. The first being that photography is one of my favorite mediums for what it can express without the use of words. The second thing I contemplated is how lucky I am to wake up with my family every day, in my house, on my own time. And the free time I have is used to read, listen to music, play sports, play tickle bugs with our son, or write on a blog. 

Every minute I get to spend with the people I love is invaluable. And for people separated from their families, especially soldiers who volunteer for the duty, all the time apart slips away and can't be regained.  The sacrifice at the cost of their own personal freedoms  is for the benefit of millions of other people. Me included.

I won't argue the sense or senselessness of war, but I will always acknowledge that others fight war, on all sides, while I sat home safely last night, tucked in my Ugg boots and watching LOST. 

The addage a picture is worth a thousand words might have been based on photos just like this one. I found it compelling and wanted to share. What does it say? Love? Relief? Thankfulness to be alive? Gratefulness to return to a life that was left behind for 9 months? Maybe a culmination of all of those emotions. Maybe pieces of a much bigger homecoming. 

A homecoming unlike any I have ever personally experienced. 

I know how heartsick my Mom was when I simply relocated to college. From her words, my absence perforated a hole in my parents' lives. I will likely feel the same when my own son moves away. Neither of these scenarios even compare to the distance both physical and emotional countless other families are currently experiencing. This picture will always remind me of that.

I am hugging my family extra well today.

What's your excuse?

Yesterday I was a little salty about working out. I didn't want to run because it was 28 degrees here. Yes, I know that is 28 degrees warmer than some of you but one of the perks of living in the south is we don't do 28 degrees. And if any white flakes appear from the sky, you get vacation and call it a snow day.

Not only did running outdoors not interest me in the least, I didn't want to go the gym because of the mere minutes of exposure to the elements I would endure walking from parking lot to front door. Doing nothing is not part of my plan and unfortunately, I already know making excuses is not considered actual exercise. Poor little kitty. 

So in effort to stall the inevitable motivate myself, I read the news. And then I saw this:
 

Jose Fausto Gonzalez, also known as 'Pepe Fausto', is a Spanish cyclist.

He cycles everyday.
And he is EIGHTY.

Pepe Fausto doesn't get all poor little kitty about the cold. He doesn't make paltry excuses like being outside for 2 whole minutes is too much too bear. Sometimes you just need to get up and go. As I have said before, the ass won't lose itself.

You are outstanding Pepe Fausto. Or may I call you by your new pet name, El BadAss?

I can only hope that when I am his age, I can still rock it like a hurricane. Thanks for the inspiration, El BadAss, I needed it.



PS: Come visit Life 2 Us, a new website and the brainchild of Unknown Mami. I am one of their featured bloggers this month.