Day 4

Originally I had the goal that I would post a picture everyday of something that influenced or inspired my day. I still hope to, but some days, the photos just may not come. Perhaps by the end of the year though I can have perhaps 200 photos to look back through from my year. Fortunately, for today, Mom did send me a photo of her corn plant bloom. Corn plants rarely bloom, in fact we did not even know they bloomed until Mom's sprouted a mysterious shoot two years ago. Now it is blooming again. The blooms are very fragrant, some describe the smell as nauseating, but I didn't find it so (I was also just recovering from Covid). Mom sent me a picture today of the bloom and I am thrilled that it is blooming again for her, and so soon too!!

It's the little things in life. Cliche I know. It is a truth though, at least for me. Watching Toots sleep with her little paw wrapped over her nose. Coming home and sharing smiles and kisses with Mike. Actually coming home to a man that I love and looking forward to coming home to him. A little thing, that means a big thing. It all adds up, and right now, I feel full. I won't always feel full, but right now I do. And that is enough.

Day 3

And already trying to skip days writing... But I'm here. I had put in for a drawing to enter the Snowdonia Eryi Marathon in Wales, and I was drawn! Now I have two weeks to decide if I want to actually commit to the task or not. This would be my second time running this race, and the first time was such an awesome experience. I'm scared if I do it now it may tarnish my previous experience. Is it better to leave it one and done? Perhaps my draw to this marathon is because I really want to go back to Wales. I found it quite beautiful, and wanted to explore so much more of it. At this rate, I'm clearly leaning towards not, but on the other hand, I could have another excellent experience to remember from my time in Europe. The last marathon was very rough on me. I was slow, training was hard, on the long runs anyways. I felt like I was fueling and hydrating better than I have in previous years, yet I felt very sluggish and sometimes even faintish while doing my long runs. It could be part of getting older, but a large part is likely mental too, as I find myself often times not enjoying running as long here. It is not like Italy where I had breathtaking views and awesome weather to push me through, even on the rough days. I also currently have a toe nail that is growing into the top of my nail from the last marathon that I completed. So if that turns into some form of minor surgery to remove my nail, I think I will lay low on the marathons for a bit. Maybe find a couple of good halfs to participate in this year, as those have become my favorite. Maybe there is even one I can find in Wales.

Day 2

The last day of Winter Break. Sigh, but no sigh. It is great to have all the time off, but then without any real plans I end up feeling misplaced and wonder what should I do with myself? Of course, I should just relax and enjoy the beauty of having nothing to do. To always be doing--something, anything--has been hardwired in my brain to mean productivity, success, the absence of laziness and being a loser. Idelness was never something I was taught to admire, so I struggle when I am provided the opportunity to indulge in it. This is why Mike is good for my heart and soul. My husband knows how to truly relax and just be. To not have to feel obligated to be doing something. For me, it is refreshing to have somebody say "So what?" when I had an unproductive day. It makes me feel like I am still worthy. I am still a productive human being, even if I enjoy some lazy days. I shouldn't need that extra reassurance, but I do, and it is wonderful that he can provide it. Today Mike and I went for a walk through the backside of Lakenheath. It was a brisk day. Deceivingly so, as the sun was shining. What would a day out in England be without some sheep? These little guys gave me an awe momwnt as they seemed extra fuzzy today.

My final thought for today: I read a passage from Alistair Begg in which he said a bunch about starting a new year, but the part that struck me said for those who are prone to melancholy to avoid nostalgia. I found this very intrigueing as it is a fitting reminder to myself, as I do have my share of melancholic days. It's interesting how the two coincide too, upon further thought. It's often the days I feel sad that I start thinking up old memories to make me more sad. The two can drag you down into a woe as me, pity party really quick! Perhaps he is right, and I should avoid some nostalgia and focus on being more present.

DAY 1

My phone told me the date today, as it does every day, but today it seemed like it meant more since the whole world was waking up to a new year, a fresh start, a new me. Just that bold number one staring me in the face made me think how different I may look at the year if the days were not reset every 30-ish days. I tend to get caught up in days, weeks, months; like oh, I have four more days left in January, so I will start again in February; or I ate a cupcake today, so I will eat healthy next week. What if, though, I really treated each day as the restart. This year, my New Year's non-resolution (because, quite frankly, those are silly to me) is to count the days, not the weeks or the months, but to make each day count. So, here I am, day one out of 365. Lets see where it takes me.

I went on a run today. It was windy and it's always somewhat gloomy in England. Looking out my windows, I assume it's cold, but I had a mission for the day. There was patches of blue in the sky, mingling with the gray, enough to be considered a beautiful winter's day. I can't tell you how much I needed that run today. Even the wind hitting my face and my pace was welcome as it made me feel alive. I've been a hermit the last few days, and my mood has deeply suffered for it. I need the earth to ground me. To bring me back to life and reset me. This is why I run. Or sometimes run walk, and maybe even just walk. Regardless, I need to remind myself to get one foot out of the door, even on the days when it might not look inviting outside. I took this picture at Maiden's Cross Hill. This has become my running sanctuary over the last year. My close nature space that gives me a "view" of the land. Basically, just a view of RAF Lakenheath, but based off the amount of people that trek through with their fancy photography equipment, it is quite a view. Just not when the jets aren't flying. There is a giant ice cream scoop taken out of the earth, I don't know what it's from. If it was in Montana, I would suspect an old gravel pit long forgotten and overgrown, but here, I don't know. Either way it's scooped out of the earth and it has trails leading in from every angle down into it. The whole Hill is a network of veined trails, exemplifying the amount of independent walkers that don't stick to the same trail. I like that it is this way. I like that everyday I can be in the same area, but choose a little bit different course. It is reminiscent of my life. Many paths to choose from, I have all these ideas of who I want to be (still, even though I'm getting old and should probably just start to settle on one, but who knows, maybe the not settling will keep me young) yet, I think whichever path I take, I will end up out of the scoop anyways, so I should worry less and pursue more and just keep going. Maybe that makes some sense.

Bumming... Today I did not run. I set out, had all my gear on, and my calf was at it again. It feels like someone is trying to slice through my calf muscles with a knife when I run on it. So six miles turned into a 45 minute strength session. I heard a rumor that it is impossible to drink beer and have a six-pack. I call bologna, and I would like to prove it wrong. Just kidding. I have never had a six-pack, and quite frankly don't desire one. I would like to have slim "sexy" abs though, with just some subtle lines. Since I'm not giving up beer, I will have to prove that this can be done with on a moderate diet of booze. I actually found an excellent ab workout on Pinterest and have been doing it three times a week for the past two weeks. I would like to think I can see some difference, but that could be my imagination. Does anyone else start looking at themselves in the mirror way too soon after doing a few hard work outs? I do. I catch myself checking out my abs or legs or whatever after a particularly hard workout, thinking that my muscles are all of a sudden bulging. After I snap myself out of my delusions, I realize it still is a confidence boost and makes me feel good about working hard. Here is the ab workout if you would like to try it yourself: 30 Crunches 20 Bicycle Crunches 30 Toe touches 20 Reverse Crunches 15 Side Plank Crunches (Right Side) 30 Crunches 15 Side Plank Crunches (Left Side) 40 Russian Twists 30 Bicycle Crunches 15 Oblique V-Ups (Right Side) 20 Reverse Crunches 15 Oblique V-Ups (Left Side) 10 Leg Lifts You can find the whole segment following this link: Or by following @YouMeFit on Twitter Hopefully by tomorrow I will be able to run around on this leg. Until then.

Running has been "my thing" for quite some time now. In high school I ran track, always long distance, back then long distance meant two miles. Two miles! If only that were still long distance. Now, two miles is almost a warm up. Somedays it takes three miles before my legs really even seem ready to go. I remember training in high school for those long distanced races and being dropped off by my track coach three miles from town. She would kick us out of her car and say goodbye to each of us by shouting out the times she expected to see us back in town. I do miss those days, especially having someone cheering me on, making me work, do far-licks on days when I had no gumption whatsoever. When I run, I am my own motivator, and somedays that is the hardest part of all. I often joke that the hardest part of my run, is putting on my running gear. Once the shoes are on, I'm committed. Somedays it takes all day to get those shoes on. I'm sure I am not alone in these feelings, working out is hard. Waking up in the face of a fifteen mile run is not always easy, but when those fifteen miles are finished I feel like there is nothing in this world I cannot tackle, and that inspires me to keep challenging myself. Not everyday, but every week, even if it is a lazy week. I have completed three marathons in my twenty-seven years, and hope to continue tallying marathons well into a ripe old age. I would love to be featured in Runners World at 83, running my 50th marathon...or something like that. Now I am beginning my training for a fourth, the Venice Marathon. Life has brought me to Italy, and I am now living here. It is quite wonderful and the running trail that runs through my town provides spectacular views of the mountains. The trail winds through farms and old towns, lined with trees for shade and not a vehicle in site. Yesterday, was the first day of my training. I haven't used a training guide since my first marathon. I did then, and since figured the process was pretty simple and have set personal bests since. By goal distance before the race (October 23rd), is 21 miles. I have a little over three months, so my first long distance run will start out at ten miles. Week 1 Schedule: Monday--4 miles (fast pace) Tuesday--Cross Train** Wednesday--6 miles (moderate) Thursday--8 miles (light run) Friday--2 miles (fast pace) Saturday--10 miles (light run) **I crossed trained today, Tuesday, because yesterday I tweaked a muscle in my calf. It was better today, but I could still feel the tension. I feel like all too many runners ignore their pains and push through, causing more damage than good. My philosophy is too take a step back, so I don't have to take a leap back in the future when I completely injure and damage myself. So today, I biked for 13 miles (eventually with a very flat tire, so I feel like I used a lot more energy with this ride!) Moment from the trail: I got stuck. Sometimes I have issues with switching gears, and today this was the case. It was paper day in Aviano, so the garbagemen were out. When the bike path connected with the main road, I was positioned directly behind the garbage truck, on a hill. I slowed to get around and switched gears, in the wrong direction, making the forward motion almost impossible. The nice Italian garbageman must have sensed my struggle, he shouted something in Italian as I passed, and as I went by I felt a lurch of momentum surge through my bike. Wow! I thought, only to hear the Italian laugh and wave. He gave me a push. I haven't felt like a four year old on training wheels in quite some time. Thank you Italian Garbageman. Ciao!