Bring Olga Home

I am so blessed it's ridiculous! We are SO blessed it's ridiculous! ALL of my friends children and my children are loved beyond measure, taken care of to the point of exhaustion, squeezed and kissed and cuddled all day long. They are flourishing, exploring, learning, and dreaming. Everyday! Our children's needs are met, their mouths are fed, and their hearts are protected. How wonderful if that was the case for all of God's children in the world today?

But we are smart enough, aware enough, to know that isn't the truth. There is unimaginable suffering among children in our world every second, every minute, everyday. And I know that I, like you, feel overwhelmed by the thought of our own children suffering- my little Anna, or Thomas, or Lily- in pain, isolated, alone, hurting. But today, we can do something for one of those children.

There is a 5 year-old girl named Olga who is currently living in an orphanage in eastern Europe who has down-syndrome. In the part of the world where she lives, they give orphans like Olga until the age of five before they transfer them to an institution- for the rest of their life.

But the good news, and the way you can help, is there are people, mommmies, here in America fighting for Olga and other children like her to find a forever-family. And the best part is, Olga has a family poised to adopt her- the Abells- but they need $7,000 as quickly as possible for a Dossier for Olga. Before she gets transferred.

Let's give Olga the opportunity to flourish, explore, dream, and be cuddled and kissed to exhaustion. Let's bring Olga "home".

Please visit my dear friend Angela's blog to help:
http://divineinterruptions.blogspot.com

Training Log: Easy 10 mile run.

This week my long run was only 10 miles. Yes, I said only. Compared to the 14 & 16 mile runs I've logged lately, 10 felt, in the words of my 6 year old daughter, easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy.

In true Colorado fashion, it was a peaceful, bluebird day on the trails. I did a big loop, maneuvering through three different trails to cover my 10 miles- Lee Gulch, Platte River, & the Highline.

It was one of those runs where I remembered why I do this. Why I put on my Brooks day after day and subject my knees, feet, and shins to torture. There is just no better way to explore God's creation than with my own two feet.

Oh! My Aching......Everything!!!

The sky was blue, air crisp, and the trails finally clear enough for a (gasp) run outside! I needed to do 16 miles so I mapped out this huge loop around Chatfield reservoir that promised beautiful scenery and adventure. Judging from the satellite images, I could do most of the 16 miles on a paved trail that traversed the perimeter of the lake, but would have to cut across a random field, some clusters of trees, and a railroad track to meet up with the Highline Canal trail to loop back to the start.

When I finally set out, it was much colder than I'd anticipated. I zipped my jacket up tight around my chin, put my head down, and leaned into the freezing headwind. I wound down the Mary Carter Greenway trail, met up with the C470 west trail, and started climbing the hill by Chatfield dam to enter the state park.

At the top of the hill, I stopped. The trail was a dead end, covered with 4-5 inches of snow. Apparently Chatfield does not plow their paved trails (as I'd hoped they would) and I would need to be re-routed.

I hopped onto the road and set out toward the backside of the lake, I'd have to do plan B- out 8, back 8. I hate out and back runs when I have to cover a huge distance- every landmark, every hill, every shrub dusted with snow, every curb of the road you have to cover TWICE. And when you've finally hit the turn around, ready to run toward home, there's nothing new awaiting you for the next 8 miles.

An old injury in my calf starting aching around mile 6 and by mile 10 it was screaming. But I had to keep going because it was six miles back to my car. I suppose I could have walked, but that would have taken longer and the LAST thing I wanted was to be out here in this wind, on this road, any longer than necessary. So I kept on running....kept up my pace....just trying to finish the 16 miles.....

The last 2 miles were the hardest, perhaps because it was two miles further than I'd ever run before. However, I think there's something about getting close to the end of a hard workout that makes time slow down and the miles drag on. I picked up my pace (as much as I could with the aching calf muscle) in hopes of finishing sooner.

Finally, after 2 & 1/2 hours of straight running the parking lot came into view. I'd done it. It was freaking hard, but I'd done it.

The Treadmill Test

Thrice this week my plans have been thwarted by a sneaky foe named snow. And for whatever reason, the weathermen around here could not accurately predict his evil plan.

Which is why, early Monday morning, I could be found at the Y on the treadmill. For 90 solid minutes, I pounded and pounded the moving rubber belt.....and didn't "go" anywhere. I read two full magazines, watched two episodes of House Hunters,one episode of Cake Boss, and even talked with friends and passers-by. Physically the 10 and a half miles wasn't very taxing, but mentally it was so tough that I had to resort to playing games with my own mind.

I ran the first two miles at a 2.0 incline, miles 3 & 4 at a 1.5 incline, miles 5 & 6 at a 1.0 incline,& 7 & 8 at a .05 incline. So when the hour mark hit and I wanted so badly for my legs to actually take me somewhere again, I couldn't get off- I'd finally earned the 0.0 incline for two glorious miles.

And the moral of the story for anyone out there who is (or is considering) training for a spring 1/2 or full is.....

Don't talk smack about the treadmill, because the day will come when you will need him.

Runners. Yeah, we're different.

Adidas used this as their campaign slogan from 1999-2000, around the time of my sophomore year of high school. They ran ads featuring runners in usual runner-type predicaments: squatting behind a tree doing their business on a busy trail,taping nipples, rubbing vaseline in precarious places that are prone to chaff-age, and perfecting the single-barrel farmer blow. Our cross country team was so inspired by the unusual ads that we adopted the slogan as our own and even had t-shirts printed. After all, we could have been our own Adidas ad.

One of my coaches, Aaron Ciszek, was a crazy fast runner, sub 2:45 marathoner, and swore by chips and salsa as the best pre-race dinner out there. He was frequently seen around town on his bike with his skis sticking out of a piece of pvc pipe fastened to the back of his bike frame. He was almost always heading up the snow-packed streets to the ski mountain. Usually in a blizzard.

Rumor had it that my other coach, John Smith, shaved his legs. Apparently, smooth legs took vital seconds off his triathlon swim time. In the four years he coached me, I only remember him competing in one, maybe two, triathlons, but his legs were always silky-smooth. He loved to say, "boot & rally" which loosely meant, "If you're gonna puke, puke, but you better get right back up and finish what you started." And we always did.

And, if you can believe it, our coaches were not the strangest sampling of the team. We also had a skilled river-dancer, a boy named Michaelangelo who penned love poems, a kid with a hit-list reserved for anyone who crossed him (we all tried our hardest to stay off the list!)and
possibly even a witch.

For all my mocking, my cross country team was full of some amazing people. People of character and commitment, with just a pinch of crazy. After all, we LIKED running, which alone is reason enough to claim residency in the not-so-normal column. Like most runners, we know the horrible mental and physical pain that comes with the eighth-400 meter repeat, the loneliness of long, weaving trails and two hour runs, and what it feels like to "boot & rally", wipe your mouth off on your sleeve, and keep on trekking.

And here's the kicker- we run anyway!

Again and again and again.

And Just Because My Life isn't Crazy Enough......

Several years ago, when T was 8 months old, we bought a new house, moved across the city, and started our lives in Littleton, CO. Not only did I have my sweet boy at the time, but also a sassy, energetic 2 year old girl. Jer was working the usual crazy hours of a man in the car industry, and I was staying home with my two kiddos. So, just to make things more interesting, I suggested we get a puppy. That was probably the hardest winter I've encountered. Charlie peed everywhere, chewed everything, and even partially-digested some of our socks. Yup, I found them in his you-know-what while pooper-scoopering our yard.

So in true Jenny fashion, I decided we, once again, could not let our lives become too easy. However this time we had 3 kids, my husband still worked the same crazy hours, and I am homeschooling. Naturally I decided it was a good time to train for my first marathon.

Sunday was my longest run ever- 14 miles. It was 25 degrees outside, windy as all-heck, and I had been experiencing some GI discomfort from our recent vacation. It would have been easy to put it off for another day. But if you haven't noticed already, I'm seldom drawn to the easy-way.

I was on a trail near my home that weaves its way for miles and miles through neighborhoods, farms, and parks. The sky was the Colorado-blue all natives love and huge, white mountains hovered behind me on my way out, and loomed in front of me on my way back home. It was beautiful. Everything about the run was beautiful. God's creation surrounding me. The comaderie of the other runners- equipped with jackets, gloves, and camel-baks- also out on their weekly "long run". And the fact that I was doing it- I was mentally blocking out the sharp-pain through my knees, the chaffing on my abdomen and armpits, and the reality that this run was barely more than half the distance of the race I had signed up to run.

When I finished I thought, "Man, that was tough. I never want to run that far again."

Well, at least not again this week.

Total running time was just over 2 hours.

I am awesome at this blog thing....

Don't you love how I made this grand entrance in to the blog-o-sphere with a post entitled "Finally, a blog" and a written commitment to write about Watson family happenings......in 2008. That's right, I posted twice two years ago and haven't logged on since. I am awesome. Which also explains why I have so many followers......

I'm not making any commitments to blog-evity this time. And it's quite possible you may not hear from me again until 2013.