More Running Reflections

> One of my friends who gave birth last week was trying to describe the labour process to me. She compared it to Running. Same exertion, only during labour there's no indication of where the finish line is. She said, "I knew what my finish line was, seeing my baby, but I didn't have a clue when it would happen." When I'm out on a run I have the advantage of knowing where the finish line is, which for me is home. I also use my stop watch to tell me how much time I have left. I suppose the analogy of running without knowing where the finish line is, is a great example of life. Isn't that what I'm doing in this life? Running a race knowing what the finish line will be, eternal worship of God -but not knowing when it will happen.

> I'm finding there to be a nice little camaraderie among runners, well runners on my regular running path anyway. Most of the time when I pass another runner heading in the opposite direction there's a lovely little wave exchanged. I like those little waves. It's like we're saying to each other "You can do it!! I know what you're going through." I find it encouraging.

It's nice in life when someone who is enduring the same race gives a little wave. Although I've learned the hard way that sometimes those little waves really mean nothing. It's those who have stopped heading in their own direction and have turned around to run beside me for a bit who have really encouraged me to persevere.

Pretenses

Sometimes slapping a bandaid over a wound can give the impression that we are healed. Yet when the bandaid is ripped off we realize that by covering the wound up it has only gotten worse.

I've been slapping bandaids all over my wounds for a long time now.

Reminiscing

The other day Jen, Achilles and I were reminiscing about the children's television shows that we grew up on. Achilles downloaded the theme songs to all of them and we listened. Oh the memories that came back is we listened to The Polka Dot Door, Today's Special and of course Mr. Dress-up. Wow children's Television has changed drastically since then.

As we were singing along, Achilles joked about how I sound like the polka dot door lady. And you know what I realized? I am the polka dot door lady!!! My kindermusik classes are just like episodes of the polkadot door - EXCEPT - I don't put my ear up to my "stuffed animal" friends and ask "what's that you say Marigold(or bear or dumpty or humpty)" AND my man co-host doesn't "leave" just before the polkaroo comes to vist. And then conveniently return as himself only to have "missed him (the polkaroo) again". . . . um, Denis we always knew it was you in the polkaroo costume!!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pexVTVMkt8c&feature=related

A fact about me

I take everything way too personally.

Only for People with English Accents

I find myself listening to classical music radio stations more and more these days, and I have to say that many of the commercials I hear drive me crazy. I find it interesting that the ads for Opera companies, symphonies and even some superior automobiles all have announcers with English accents. It's hard to brush off the "elitist" stereotype that classical music has attained when opera companies, symphonies etc. give the blunt impression that classical music can only be enjoyed by stuffy snobs. Not that I think that the English are snobs, but the Canadian classical music industry is obviously using that stereotype to promote the elite snobbery associated with classical music. It bugs me.

Falling into Distance

I feel far away.
The distance is long.
The distance is empty.
I've unknowingly created the distance
one millimetre at a time.
And now the harder I try to run towards You
the further away I feel.
The millimetres have grown into Kilometres.
I try to take one step forward
yet I find myself leaping 5 giant steps back.
My perception is skewed.
How is it that You are standing
in front of me,
behind me,
beside me,
around me,
yet all I see and feel is that long, empty distance
between us?

shimmy shake

If that farmer man in his white pick up truck understood that my life is a musical, he'd know why I was shimmying and seat salsa dancing like a mad woman to my Pink Martini CD in the car today. If he knew that my day is measured from one song to the next he wouldn't have stared at me and then put his index finger to his temple rotating it ever so slightly indicating that I'm loco!!!
If I didn't secretly enjoy making that man uncomfortable I wouldn't have tossed a coy little wave and then a big grin, as I drove off shimmy shaking away :)