There are Angels Among Us

A few months ago, I noticed my neighbors across the street getting ready for a party. I watched the moon bounce go up and countless preparations busily being made.  The next day, Sarah and I returned home and the party was in full swing. Sarah took a few long looks at the moon bounce and all the festivities, while I held her hand tight and brought her and my groceries inside. As I put groceries away and cleaned the kitchen, I glanced out of the window every few minutes. I saw kids running all over the place and I noticed that the family giving the party had invited their neighbors - a new family with 5 kids. Everyone looked like they we're having such a great time.

I felt the tears springing to my eyes before I could even think about it. I wished Sarah had been invited. As I sat there fighting the tears, I gave myself a good fussing. I and myself actually had a serious chat. "They don't know us like that, why would they invite us?" "Well they know us enough to let my husband help them shovel snow." "They can clearly see that Sarah is older, why would they invite her." "They don't know she has autism and that she's probably developmentally closer to the age of their kids".  On and on I went until I'd had enough of my own carrying on. All the frustrations and fears and yes - even a little anger boiled to the surface as I closed my kitchen blinds and kept on cleaning. I tried to get to the bottom of my feelings and calm myself down. But a mother...well a mother is a mother and sometimes there is just no rationality when it comes to a mother and her child. So, I figured the best thing to do was to ride the feelings out, and eventually I sat down to do what I usually do when I get all worked up. No I didn't have a glass of wine or cry on my husband's shoulder for hours complaining about the unfairness of life. I wrote.

I wrote a long post on Facebook about autism acceptance and how much my life had changed - how much my social life had changed. I felt better after getting it off my chest. Tons of people responded, but I think only a few really GOT it. Two of those people were my friends Mary and Bridget. They both asked what I was waiting for, when was I coming to visit. They both said Sarah was welcome in their homes and their families. They both meant it.

That day I started making plans to take Sarah on a road trip to New England to see a friend I hadn't seen in 14 years and a friend I had never laid eyes on (more on that another time). Within a day or so, we had the plans worked out. We would go in August. I would drive with Sarah. They both said they were thrilled that I was coming. I was excited. I was elated. I was scared.

The trip would be Sarah's longest car ride. I would be by myself. She's getting bigger - how would we manage the restrooms? When we went in together, would she try to run out? Would she cry? And what about staying in two different homes with people she had never seen? How would she manage? How would I manage? How would they manage? All these thoughts ran through the back of my mind, but I pushed them aside and started counting the days.

As the trip drew near, I really started to panic. I asked my hubby if he could manage to join us
halfway through the trip. Forget the fact that he was traveling heavily. I thought I might be physically
and mentally worn thin doing it on my own.

Finally, early on a Thursday morning in August, Sarah and I started our big adventure. What happened over the next few days was nothing short of wonderful (I'll get to the details of the trip in another post). My friends are angels. I'm convinced. No, not perfect beings who do no wrong and sing praises to God all day. My friends are arms wide open, homes wide open, roll with the punches, accept you as you are, love you as you are, no big deal, my home is your home type of gals. Being with them was one of those rare blessings that God gives you - those rare moments when you know that He is giving you peek into heaven through the kindness, generosity and love of others. We didn't do anything extra special during the days of my trip, but they will forever be ingrained in my memory as some of the most special days of my life. I don't know if I will ever find the words to tell those two angels how much that trip meant to me. I still get teary-eyed thinking about it. So, you'll have to wait a little longer to read about the details of our trip.

Swim, Bike, Run: Part1

It seemed like a really good idea at the time, I swear it did. But that was almost a year ago. You see, then I was still high off of my triumphant training and glorious finish at my second half marathon. OK, let me state up front that I didn't place or anything, but I trained well and finished strong!

Anyway, after my cousin and friend completed a sprint triathlon I got to thinking that I should do one. After all, my running partner and I had already decided to do our first (and only) marathon in December 2014.  So, I figured why not make 2 huge goals and go for it. Forget that I hadn't ridden a bike since I was a kid, nor did I own one. Forget that I had never done more than play in the open water. It all seemed so far away. The end of the year came and I started doing Zumba and lifting a little weights - getting my strength up for the tasks ahead.  Still, the magnitude of what I planned to do hadn't hit me.

Then, things got real. I mean really real. I took a tri swim class and realized I had a lot of work to do. But I wasn't deterred, I was determined. I carried on with my swimming through the winter, wearing sweats and flip flops with socks to the gym at ungodly hours. Winter and that stupid polar vortex finally gave way to spring and I kept up with my weights, Zumba and light running schedule. It happened suddenly, but I woke up and it was June - time to start following my triathlon plan. I bought a bike.  I had to cut Zumba, take a break from my run coordinator duties with my local Black Girls Run group, and focus on the schedule. Easier said than done because the schedule consisted of 6-7 workouts a week. Juggling that training with the rest of my life and work was really difficult. 

I'm convinced that God himself caused my early September triathlon to be cancelled. It gave me a perfect reprieve and a pretty good excuse to slack in my training from the end of July through the end of August. I had three vacations during that time and though I exercised, it was nowhere close to the intensity called for in my schedule. 

Then I woke up and it was September. Marathon training has begun and my triathlon is one month away (surely you didn't think I quit just because one event was cancelled). Training is back in full swing and I must admit (right here on this blog that no one reads) that I am scared out of my mind. I went out for an open water swim in a local river this week. The problem was I was terrified to go all the way OUT into the river - in water I could stand in! Don't get me wrong, after much whining I finally went out and swam. But I didn't go far and I didn't swim very long. Since then I have been asking myself why in God's name I signed up for this crap. I mean really! I may lie to everyone and say I'm 31, but I just turned 44 and I have nothing to prove. This athlete adventure was supposed to be about building my strength, relieving a little stress, and having fun. News flash: being scared is not fun! 

In spite of the voices in my head telling me I'm wacko, off my rocker and completely cray-cray (as the kids say), I'm continuing this journey. I headed to the pool tonight to see if I could manage the 
distance. I did 750 meters nonstop (no touching the wall or putting feet down). It's the same distance 
of my triathlon swim - almost 1/2 mile. And though I feel like I was tied to a horse (OK maybe a dog) and dragged for a 1/2 mile, I finished. 

Tomorrow I have to run 10 miles at the crack of dawn with a partner who has a bad foot - the same partner I ran through a storm with last week. Not just a storm but thunder and lightning that crept up on us during our last 2.5 miles - running out in the middle of nowhere! Somehow, somewhere, there's a little glimmer of hope and encouragement in the back of my mind. It's there and I can just barely reach it. It's telling that part of me that's shaking in my boots (and my swimsuit) that I'm one bad chick. You know - a she beast, an iron girl, a bad mother runner. I went from wobbling on a bike to riding 37 miles. I may be a slow runner but I'm faster than last year. I can swim 30 lengths of the pool without stopping. 

If I can catch that little glimmer and hold on to it, I think I just may get in that water in one month 
and swim, doggie paddle, and cry my way to my bike then pedal, huff and puff to my run then jog, shuffle and run my way to the finish.  Stay tuned...

Are you there? It's me, Kelly.

You've heard it all before..."I'm going to do better with my blogging"..."I'm going to check in more..." Blah blah blah I know, you are sick and tired of me!

Well here I am. Quite frankly I'm begging to come back and for someone to listen.  See my Facebook posts are getting longer and longer and I'm not sure anyone really gives a hoot. Actually, I've got quite a few things to get off my chest.

So...today it begins. Put your reading glasses on!