Lent... and letting go.

Today is Ash Wednesday.  I grew up in a Catholic family and observed the Lenten season for many years. It has been awhile since I've considered myself a Catholic, but only a few years since I have stopped acknowledging the "rules" of Lent (i.e. many years of Friday tuna fish lunches, etc!).  However, today I  completely forgot it was Ash Wednesday until about an hour ago - after eating a leftover enchilada (with ground turkey).  Sigh. Ah well, pretty sure God will forgive the turkey.

But I digress.

I have been thinking about Lent more this year than I have in awhile.  Maybe it's just where I am at right now, but I know I *need* something and it must come from God. Despite knowing that, I have been struggling to get close to Him, finding excuses to make everything else the priority. As anyone could guess, that has simply caused a vicious cycle and left me feeling... just off.

So.

What better time than Lent than to take steps toward God? To stop being so off and find a way back on again.

Usually during Lent, people give up luxuries, things like sweets or social media. Some form of penitence (I've given up pop and chocolate too many times to count!). This year, I'm working on giving up control. I spoke a little about control here, and although I do want to avoid micromanaging my family, what I am speaking about now is more about more generally giving up control to God. Trying less to get my ducks in a row (or a tight military formation!) and more about trusting. Not hoarding my fears and worries, but giving them up to the only One who can really do anything about them. 

It's about giving up the ugliness inside, letting it out; instead of trying to bury it and hide it and keep it for my own. It's about not having it all together - not pretending to have it all together - and not needing to have it all together. And appreciating the many blessings I have, whether I have it all together or not!

I'm still brainstorming what this might mean for the next 40(ish) days. I expect journaling, self reflection (perhaps some here, plenty privately).  I have a few books I want to read.  And prayer.

[Side bar:  Here's a confession - I find praying really hard. I get distracted. It's always been difficult for me to imagine this direct line with God in a way that makes prayer a natural conversation. One way I want to tackle this is to commit to at least one unplugged run a week - no music, no audio book. Just my thoughts or lack thereof. I am fairly confident that I will start talking to myself, which seems a good lead in to prayer. :) End side bar]

Since February is already half over and I never actually sat down and gave myself some goals, I'm not going to. I'm going to work on this. I'm going to work on letting go...

Race and Running... A Question of Diversity?

This morning I read a post from another mother runner which noted the general lack of diversity in the running community. These women travel to races and expos all over the country and, overall, have viewed a very white field.

I have to be honest. With my transracial family, I consider myself to be pretty observant about diversity. Sometimes I worry I'm over-vigilant. But this post came at me out of left field. I had not really thought about it with regards to running. Yet, once I did, my mind flashed immediately to the few races I've run. Other than Detroit, they were very, well, white. And even Detroit... I would be curious about the racial breakdown between the 5k, half marathon and marathon.

Then I thought about S's cross country team. CC is hugely popular at her school. There are approximately 70 kids on the team. She is the only girl of color. There is one Indian boy.  

Why?

 What barriers exist and how do we break them down?

On one hand, running is a very inexpensive form of fitness. A good pair of shoes and you're off. Arguably there are more basics (a supportive bra for one!) but shoes are key. But not cheap. Is this cost a factor? Some other unavailability?

I hope it's not a feeling of exclusion. Generally speaking, I have found runners as a group to be welcoming and compassionate, supportive regardless of your pace. But what kinds of exclusions may be happening, even unintentionally?

If I, someone who often has race on her mind, completely missed the lack of diversity... What else am I missing?

"The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy. "

~Martin Luther King Jr.~

Enough

When is enough, enough?

What a tough question.  And the answers certainly vary – “enough” cookies is different than “enough” veggies.  Enough exercise vs. enough television. And the answers will likely be different for each question-asker.  What is “enough” for me, may be too much for you, or too little.

As we prepare to grow our family again, I have thought about this question a bit.  Friends have asked me, how do you know you can (or should) add another member to your family?  How do you know that it’s the right decision?

That’s a tough question.  A big, unruly and somewhat scary question.  How do you know?  But all I can do is give our answer… How did we know that we should add to our family again?

Easy.

We just knew.

[I’ll wait for the eye-rolling to cease.]

I’m not being facetious. Just honest.  I can’t even say whether the realization happened all at once or if it was more of a gradual awakening.  I expect the latter is more accurate. In any event, at some point, it simply became clear that we were capable of parenting another child.

And beyond that – we were not merely “able” to parent another child, but we wanted to.

I don’t mean there is this hole in our life. We are beyond blessed (and busy) with our 5 amazing children, 2 crazy dogs, anti-social cat and 2 full-time jobs. We balance sports and school, careers and family, laundry and homework.  There is no mass void to “fill.” JS isn’t a prescription to a problem.

JS is a very real little boy.  He was not special ordered to fulfill some pre-determined role in our household.  He will come to us with his own trauma and brokenness from what he has lost.  He will likely come to us – as total strangers – wary and afraid.  There may be some very tough times ahead. We understand this.

Yet, he will come to a family that is so very excited to meet him.  So very excited to open our arms and welcome him.  Thus, the thought of extra laundry, homework, expenses and time does not intimidate us.  Rather, the thought of the additional blessings he will bring fills us with joy.

And so, that’s how we knew.  Five children may be “enough” for us… but we have the capacity, love and desire for more than enough.

Weight Loss Surgery for Children/Young Adults... Scary

I ran across this article today, which tells the story of a 19 year old girl who underwent lap band surgery.  You can read the article yourself (if interested), but a few things stuck out to me:

* Her doctor first suggested the surgery at age 17.  At that time, she indicated she wanted to handle it by dieting. His response?  “It’s not your fault, but you’re not going to be able to do it.”  Wow.  Motivating?  Hardly.  Now, I don't know the extent of the health problems this girl suffered that would make such weight loss difficult without surgery. But to tell her, a not-yet-fully-developed young adult that she had no chance of losing the weight? Is it terribly shocking that she did not?

* In the pre-surgery consultation with her mother, the doctor did not seem to take their questions seriously (obviously as judged by her recollection).  He had a quick, positive response about dealing with the band in pregnancy and a glib "we'll worry about that later" response to what to do with the excess skin.

* It is not clear what, if any, pre-surgery counseling the girl went through.  In any event, it did not seem to be effective, given that she did not obey the pre-surgery instruction of a liquid diet.  Further, only days after the surgery she was surprised and displeased by the reality of eating post-surgery.  She admitted to making poor nutrition choices.

I could go on and on, but so many red flags jump out and scare me.  The dangers of performing such a surgery on a physically and emotionally immature individual are huge. The implications on our society as a whole are disturbing as well. Why have we given up on our youth? Why are we willing to throw in the nutrition/exercise towel so soon?  Why are we willing to do so without proper pre-surgery preparation?

Now, many will think I am taking this too far and being unreasonably harsh on the patient and/or the doctor. However, I am not coming at this from an-always-size-4 marathoner place.  I have struggled with my weight and emotional eating for as long as I can remember.  Most of my family have engaged in such struggles to various degrees.  I have been medically classified as obese.  I have felt overwhelmed.  I know it's not simple and it's not easy.

But I also know that if someone had simply stapled my stomach shut 2 years ago, it would not have magically fixed my problems.  I wasn't overeating because I was terribly hungry all the time. I was overeating because it was my "fix" during stressful or emotional times.  I ate when I hurt. When I was angry. When I was bored.  And frankly, I probably would have continued to do so even after getting a lap band. Heck, I still do it now, although much less frequently.

Take me back 10 or 15 years?  Would I have jumped at the chance for this miracle surgery? Sadly, probably.  I went through a number of years looking for a magic fix. I was young, immature, and not willing to address my real issues.

Surgery couldn't have fixed me. Although my body often felt like it was working against me, my biggest battle was (and is) with my own mind.  Our kids need us to equip them to undertake that battle for themselves.  Better yet, give them the tools to make healthy choices before the mind battles begin...

You Can't Just Erase History...

In August, many were outraged by the announcement by the IAAF (International Association of Athletics Federation) that women's world records would only count in all-women races.   Apparently, the potential benefits of running with fast male pacers skews the results?  It sounded like good racing strategy to me - pace yourself with fast people and you'll run fast. The end.

The most horrify part of this ruling however, was that the IAAF intended to take away existing world records that were set in co-ed races and merely refer to them as a "world best." This included Paula Radcliffe's amazing finish at the 2003 London Marathon - 2 hours, 15 minutes, 25 seconds.  Further, it would also disqualify the second fastest marathon - also run by Radcliffe, at the 2002 Chicago Marathon. 

However, the IAAF announced this past week that it has (partially) changed its mind.  The new rule will stand effective 2012, but will no longer operate to strip Radcliffe of her 2003 marathon record.

Personally, I am thrilled for Radcliffe and other women in the sport. I don't really buy the arguments in favor of this new rule.  I suppose there is biological truth to the fact that men generally run faster than women and a race with male pacers gives an edge to an elite female runner looking to push herself further than most female pace setters would be able to push.  But male runners also benefit from these pacers. Even some of the most elite male runners  make use of pacers.  

To be fair, I won't pretend I understand even a portion of the ins-and-outs of elite running, record setting, etc.  From a very removed perspective, I just don't like what this new rule will do - provide even further separation between the genders.  That is one thing I really like about running - it's the same playing field.  There is not direct physical contact, making it difficult for men and women to compete together.  In a race, there is direct competition, but also competition with self and with the clock.  You can compete against yourself and the clock any day of the week, but I think nearly every runner will agree that the direct competition in a race makes athletes dig even deeper and put it all on the course.  It saddens me that for a record to stand, that course must be segregated.