You sit across the room. Face down, eyes focused, one hand rested on your chin. There’s a thousand, no, a million things I wish I could cross the room and whisper in your ear right now. I can’t move, and there’s nothing I can say. I stare and it’s alright because you know me. I’m allowed staring rights. The music, our music is playing over the speakers and it’s beautiful, and you’re beautiful and it’s all I can do but smile at the way you furrow your brow, at how concentrated you are and how deliberate your face looks at this very moment in time. Your hair is messy, and you haven’t shaved in about a week but I secretly love this, even if I wouldn’t tell you if my life depended on it. I love the way you look, the way you sound, the way you smell. You glance up, curiously, eyebrows raised, as if you’re making sure I’m still there, still sitting a few feet away from you. You catch my eyes with yours, and you smirk. “Hi” you say. I smile back because it’s all I can ever do when you smile at me in that funny way you smile. “Hi” I respond back. Your eyes search mine and I search yours back. “Come here” you say, so I do. I nestle into the crook of your arm and burry my face into your shoulder. “You’re beautiful” you whisper into my ear, and warmth spreads across my whole body. You turn your attention to your computer screen again, still holding me close and I know with full confidence that I could stay here forever, in the crook of your arm, taking in the moment, breathing in the scent, memorizing every detail of you, and this room, and this house, and all the things I’ve come to like or love or miss or whatever it is I feel but aren’t sure about. The minutes on the clock tick off, one by one, closer and closer to midnight, closer and closer to our good-byes. It’s 11:15. “I have to go” I say regretfully. You look down at me, eyes a little broken. “Wait.” You say, then you stand up, and take my hand. You pull me in towards you, and position your hands in the small of my back. Music fills the room, and we begin to sway, as you hold me, and I cling to you. You look into my eyes, and it takes everything that I have inside of me not to cry, or scream, or laugh, or do something to express the millions of emotions that are running through me all at the same time, all in this same moment. You lift your hand to my face, place your fingers on my skin, glide them against the softness of my cheek, and I’m consumed by the way you look at me, and know me, and hear me even when I don’t speak…feel me, even when I don’t move. And then it’s just you and I, and it doesn’t matter that we’re awkwardly standing in the middle of your small bedroom, clutter on the floor, swaying two and fro…all that matters is that I’m yours and you’re mine. We stop for a second, and your hand engulfs mine, and they fit like puzzle pieces, and I can’t tell whose fingers are whose anymore. And it’s funny, because I don’t feel like the molecules of my body are shifting out of place like I’d expect them to. There are no fireworks tonight. There’s you, standing in front of me, me, standing in front of you. Neither of us speak because we don’t have to. It doesn’t even matter, because I know I’m home. You’re like searching all my life for something, something that I never knew I was searching for, and finally finding it. I knew in an instant. It’s you. It was always you.

I JUST WANT TO ANNOUNCE SOMETHING...

I have a boyfriend and his name is Geoffrey and I like him very much. Yep. He's amazing and I definitely miss him right now. So yep...that's it. He's amazing. I'm going to write more about him later for sure.

:) :) :) :) :) :) :) :)

I think it's pretty amazing how God works. :)

I don't know how to be productive anymore

Things that need to get done on my free day of only one class:

- Do my 01823570815 tons of homework.
- Clean my dorm room...my side of it, anyway.
- Call some people that are important or something.
- Do some other stuff I forgot about.
- Put away my laundry which I've been putting off since Saturday.
- Go to Walmart to get some stuff.
- Go to a practice room and train my ear to hear intervals (Or something...I don't know, that's what I'm supposed to do I guess)
- Clean the bathroom.

Things that are more likely to happen on my free day of only one class.

- Nap.
- Sit on Facebook for a while
- Nap again
- Maybe go to the practice room, but goof around on the piano instead of training my ear to hear intervals.
- Sit and stare blankly at my computer screen.
- Go to the library and pretend I'm reading my OT homework, but instead listen in on someone's convo so I can collect some hot Judson gossip.
- Sit on Facebook some more.
- Eat.
- Sit on Facebook.

lshdflahgladhg

- I think air conditioning is over rated...I'm sitting in my air conditioned house and I'm freezing to death.
- I think it's pretty funny how amazing nights roll over and make amazing days.
- I think in the realm of Facebook status'. For instance..."Aubree doesn't like her cell phone very much"
- I really don't. It freezes on me all the time. Plus I kind of broke it...by sweating on it...ok so that's super gross.
- I'm not completely sure that I really like Skype all that much considering that someone can catch you at any time...even if you're naked. What if you're naked and you forgot to sign off your skype and then all of a sudden someone's little thing pops up and it's like "Blah blah blah is requesting a call with you!" It sends you in a state of panic.
- I've come to realize that when I put my cell phone on my stomach and I'm hungry, I can't really tell the different between my stomach growling and my phone vibrating. Is that weird?
- I. Am. Bored.
- Jack Johnson is the shiz. Um. Yeah.
- Okkkkkkk I haven't really posted anything worth reading in this for a while but I don't care. So there. No one really reads this anyway except for like my mom...

OK I'M DONE.

A few things I've learned...

From the good, great, YMCA Kindergarten class of '09.

- When you say the first thing that comes to your mind, it isn't always necessarily a bad thing, but you must be prepared for the reaction it brings, and also the consequences.
- I need to learn how to run up to people and just straight up body-slam hug them more often.
- Laughing simply and truly for the sake of laughing is perfectly and totally ok, and actually should be done on a regular basis.
- You need to learn how to love the things right in front of you, the things you have, rather than the things you want. If you only love the things you want, and never the things you have, you're going to spend a lot of time crying in the corner while the other kids...ackem...people have tons of fun without you.
- The best things are the free things, the simple things, like running down a big grassy hill at full speed, or swinging super super high on the swings.
- Not all decisions need to be weighed, taken apart, analyzed, pro'd and con'd, and dissected before being made...sometimes you just have to have a little faith, close your eyes, and take the leap.
- Love everyone. Even the people who seem unlove-able. Love them, too. You won't regret it.
- Love even when the risk is great. Loving, truly loving is something a person never forgets and never regrets.

From running...

- Just because it's hard doesn't mean you should stop/turn around/give up/walk
- Perfection is impossible to be obtained. In fact, perfection is quite boring because it is the end of all ends - it leaves no room for new adventures.
- Don't ever say "I can't". Courage isn't the absence of fear, but rather being terrified and doing it anyway.
- Proper preparation is the secret to success.
- Being quiet isn't a bad thing. It's in those quiet moments that God teaches you the most - especially an 80 minute long runs.
- Never surrender. Never lay down and die.
- Just because you can run really really fast coming down the hill, doesn't mean you should. If there's one hill, there's probably two, and the up-hill is always harder than the down. Save your energy for the next hill and relish the fact that you made it to the top.
- Even when the rest of the world says your crazy, do it anyway.

From some pretty cool people I've met along the way.

- Life is too short to count every morsel that goes into your mouth. Laugh, love, and dance like an idiot, and when the time comes, go ahead and have that extra slice of cake.
- You're heart is a very valuable treasure, and should only be offered to those who prove to you that they'll care for it like it's their own.
- Five year plans are boring.
- There's a stupid way and a strong way to stand up for yourself. Letting lose and yelling at a person doesn't do anything except make you look like a hot-head. Telling the truth, however, is a different story.
- God's plans are almost never your plans. Do yourself a favor, figure out God's plans and stick to those.
- Our unfaithfulness to God will never nullify His faithfulness to us.
- It's ok to hold onto some things. Not all bad memories need to be purged, but rather learned from.

A couple of extra's I've figured out about myself.

- I don't know that I could be with a guy who didn't love pizza...Chicago style, that is.
- I personify objects. I buy books who's cover is tearing off, and coffee mugs that are chipped because I feel bad for them and feel that they deserve a home too.
- I'm a weak person, but God is strong, and so it's ok to be weak.


The biggest thing I've learned...

God loves me and fills me. Amazing thins happen when I stop trying to find things to fill my life with, and let God show me all the ways He's already filled it.

My life is very, very full...full of tons and tons and tons and tons of love.

Here's to the end of old things, and to the beginning of the new.

Kindergartners don't understand make up apparently...

OK so just confirmation that my Kindergartners get really confused when I wear make up. Today I had to go to court because I had a stupid speeding ticket from like March and I went to court once, in April, but then they told me that in order to get court supervision I had to take online driving school and then come back to court and show them my certificate of completion the driving school would send me. So I did that today, but because I was going to go somewhere else other than the Y, I chose to wear make up and dress semi-nicely. So I pretty much went straight from court to work, and still had my make up on, though I managed to change into shorts and my camp t-shirt, and the very first thing any of them said to me was...

"Ms. Aubree...you have blue stuff on your eyes...I think you need to wash it off"

See, they don't even understand the concept of make up when it shows up on my face. They think it's weird blue stuff. I don't want to even know what they'd think if they saw me on the weekends. They usually only see me in two circumstances, in my work clothes, and in my work out clothes. Haha

Random stuff

So I have 20 whole minutes before I need to leave for work and I'm kind of bored. This entry will probably have nothing to do with anything, but I'm completely ok with that.

I don't wear make up when I go to work...if I do, the kids freak out. "Ms. Aubree! You're wearing eye shadow!"
"Yes I am..."
"It's...weird...wow..."

Sometimes even my co workers freak out

"Aubree! You're wearing make up...so who's your big date??"
"No one. I just felt like wearing make up today..."

It's kind of funny. I just don't really see the point in wearing make up when my job is to chase around 30 to 40 Kindergartners for 6 to 8 hours a day. I usually end up sweating the majority of it off from our totally amazing and intense games of kick ball. :)

I feel weird when I'm wearing clothes other than my camp t-shirt for work and shorts, or running clothes because I usually wake up, put on running clothes, go running, come home, shower, put on work clothes, come home, sometimes run again depending on my schedule (therefore wearing running clothes...), but most of the time I have nothing planned for the evening, and I just stay in my work clothes until I feel motivated to put on my pajamas. So weekends are very strange occurances for me seeing as I'm just really not used to wearing clothes that I've specifically chosen for myself.

And now I'm done...because I have to make some phone calls before work...that I've been putting off. Go me.

Today I ran my first 10 miles since my half training...

And it was completely amazing. I have to say that I'm definitely twice the runner I was when I was training for the half. These legs are FINALLY starting to catch up with my head. :)

Ok, but for some really odd and strange reason, the thing that motivated me through my run was knowing I was going to take an ice bath when I got back. Ummm...I guess I thought it was going to feel...good? Refreshing? Wow. Yeah. Let's just say not so much. I kept my shorts on and put on a long sleeved t-shirt, held my breath, and pretty much jumped in. It knocked the wind out of me. First my heart rate jumped, then my legs started to involuntarily and randomly twitch...yeah...wow...it was cold. I spent all of like 6 minutes in there before I started thinking about how long it might take for me to catch hypothermia or lose all movement in my lower body and how much that would really really suck, and then I called it quits and jumped out. My legs felt awesome and fresh for about 20 minutes. They definitely don't feel like I just ran 10 miles, but they also don't feel like I haven't run any at all. It's not like I haven't ever done an ice bath before either...I guess I'm just delusional

So a while ago I blogged about how I love that when you run, you encounter what's like this little secret society of runners. As I'm getting to know more runners in the area, and running regularly the same routes, I'm starting to recognize some faces. Last weekend I bought some spikes for CC in the fall from Dick Ponds, a running shoe store in the area, and I guess you could say two guys kind of sold me my shoes. First this one guy got me a bunch of sizes, and then this other guy took over for him because this lady came in the store and had apparently ordered shoes earlier that week from him. I saw the first guy who sold me shoes while running today. We gave each other the nod and smiled and waved and went on our merry ways. I love knowing that the people who sold me running shoes actually run in their free time. Sometimes this is not the case. I also saw this girl who I always want to tell to pace herself because she does this thing where she'll go flying past me (even when I run at like an 8 minute pace on my 6 milers...even my tempo runs which are like 7:45ers during my tempo miles) at like a 6 minute pace I'd guess, and then about 10 minutes later, I'll pass her as she's walking or at a complete stand still. We play this game off and on sometimes if I run in the evenings (which I don't necessarily like to do). It's kind of funny. I've gotten to the point where it doesn't bug me that much when people pass me on my long runs. It definitely bugs me during races and tempos, but during long runs, I'm in my little happy place. I've come to realize that I think long runs are my favorite type, because I get to have an hour to two hours of time just being by myself, in nature, doing what I love.

SO YES...I'm adding two miles to each long run. Next week is my twelver. I'm excited. Next week, if I stick completely to my plan, I'll hit my first 40 mile week, possibly a 47 mile week. We will see though. I'm not completely sure. I'm thinking I may take three miles off my Friday run to be ready for Saturday's long run, and finish at 44, which is still amazing. That's like more than double the mileage I was averaging a month ago. I'm crazy. :)

yayayayayayayayayayayay

Ok so I have a few things I'd like to say.

1. At Borders Books in Wheaton, there's a book in the erotica section called Tickle My Pickle. Don't ask how I found that it. And no, I don't know what it's about. All know is that it's called Tickle My Pickle and that's hilarious.

2. I almost got skunked on one of my runs the other day. It would've sucked. Fortunately, the skunk ran away.

3. I tried to convince my Kindergartners today that I was married to Mario. I was like "His brother's name is Luigi...he's a plumber...he fights Bowser." They weren't buying it.

4. I also drew a little Italian man on my hand today and was chasing them around with it screaming "WAIT!!! WAIT!!! I MAKE-A YOU SOME MEAT-A-BALLS!!!" in an Italian accent. I have a lot of fun at my job...occasionally at the children's expense.

5. I openly admitted today that I used to eat play-dough...like a lot...when I was really old...like 14.

6. I like my job because I get to act like a moron and yell a lot.

I officially slept for 11 hours last night

My poor little body needed it. I've been upping my mileage a lot. In fact, my limited supply of running clothes are in the drier as we speak because I'm going to go do some speed work at the Wheaton College track, which is supposed to equal around 6 miles. I'm excited. I like speedwork. So yeah, I'm thinking about changing up my diet a little bit, adding more protein and cutting out more fat, and of course, every runners diet, adding in more carbs. In translation, that means lots of chicken, lots of protein shakes, and lots pastaaaaa. Yay. That also means...no red meat. Boo. We'll see how this works. I'll probably fail, but that's ok, there's room for lots of failure in my life since I'm also trying this thing called being forgiving of myself.

IN RECENT NEWWSSSS ok there is no recent news. The biggest news in my life is that I got full time for the last two weeks and I got to go play at an amazing indoor water park with the kiddies yesterday. OH YEAH and the fact that there is no where in the world where I can find womens Brooks Adrenaline GTS 8's in a size 8. Seriously. NOWHERE. At Sports Authority, they had them in a 7.5 but only in the YELLOW. Arggghh. And plus, the last time I accepted a 7.5 instead of the 8's a got a black toenail, and while it was pretty cool at the time, I'm recognizing how annoying it is when it takes like months to freaking grow back to a semi normal color. Right now, it's subdued itself to a slightish brown tint, so it's ALMOST healed. Excciittinngg. OH OH YES...I'm almost done with a couple of new songs which I'm really excited about, and I think I'm going to get this guy I know to record a few them. Which could potentially be super exciting because it could potentially mean having a demo to pass out places and getting some more shooowwsss. Currently, the only demo I have is a really crappy version of only ONE song, and I'd kinda like something a little better. So yeah, that's pretty exciting.

Other than that, I don't think there's any other news. This is pretty funny, the only things I ever blog about are music and running. Ha. That's because I'm pretty much obsessed in both avenues. ;-)

Aubree

The Journey to the Starting Line

As strange as the beginning of this blog post may seem, I feel that my training to for the Half Marathon I ran on June 7th was exactly this. It has been almost a month since I left my home at 4:00AM, loaded into the back of my parent's car with jello legs and an unsteady mind. Almost a month since I sat on the grass of the Chicago South Cultural Center, stretching, wondering if the race was ever going to start. A month since I stood at the starting line.
Upon standing in my race corral, at the starting line, I realized something big and great and life-changing. Before I started training, I was strictly a casual runner. I'd run for about a month, then get bored with it and not run for a couple of weeks, then start to feel the "pain" of the scale, then run for another month...running though, running wasn't something I truly loved. It was something I did. So, when the crazy part of my brain decided to attempt the half...which now I realize is extremely attemptable...I don't think I even knew what I was about to get myself into. I trained for a total of 8 weeks. I worked my little butt off, in a sense. I ran more miles, and more often than I ever had before. I stepped up each rung of the intensity latter, not with ease, but none the less, I definitely did. I specifically remember, one night probably two weeks before the half, I started crying. I was tired of running every day, I wanted running to be something that I did again, not something that I was endlessly dedicated to. I was tired and extremely nervous, and doubting the fact that I could do it. I guess a big part of me thought that after the half, my running routine would gradually decrease to a casual running schedule like it had been before. I thought that since I would've already run the half, already accomplished my goal, that I would just be done. What I didn't realize was that there was a sneaky little tiny part of me that knew otherwise. That was the part that truly believes I can conquer anything I go at, the part that makes my mind think I can knock over mountains. It's the strong part of me, the part that's partially insane, the part that has caused me to bungee jump, try strange foods, fly across the entire world to go to a country that isn't necessarily the safest place to be at that specific moment in time...that little part of me that makes me an extremist...yeah, that part had other plans. Standing at the starting line of the Chicago 13.1 Marathon, that little part of me took over, and I realized something...something great and big and wonderful...and life changing...I realized that somewhere in the 8 weeks, my journey to the finish line, I became a runner. Not a casual one, a real one...one that would definitely not stop running after the half...one that had already set new goals for herself. I had become a person who loves the sport she does, loves everything about it. Crossing that finish line was monumental, but standing at the starting line? That changed my life. So, it's 7AM, I'm sitting here with my coffee, waking up a little before my morning run. I have another run scheduled for this evening also. I wake up at the crack of dawn and go to bed as the sun is setting...this is my life, but I love it. I love being a runner...it's definitely hard, but it's definitely amazing...you should try it.

I'll leave you with a quote.

"Running is a question that stands at the beginning of every day...it asks you, are you going to be a wimp today, or are you going to be strong?"

I'm a terrible person but...

I'm posting again about running. I can't help it.

I have bad running news and good running news.

The bad running news is I will not be participating in the Indianapolis Marathon like I had previously planned. I will, however, run the Chicago Half. The good news is, however, that I will not be running in Indy but only because I was recruited by Judson U to run cross country. I actually got cleared to run road races while on the team as long as they don't coincide with meets or training performance, but I think that because the marathon requires a much larger mile base of training than regular CC training, I chose not to go compete in the Indianapolis Marathon in October. It was a tough decision, but I really think I made the right one. I remember telling my mom the other day that my ultimate goal in my running career would be to compete on my college team. There will always be marathons, but I won't always have the opportunity to compete at Judson. The really awesome thing about JU's team is that it's a newer team, so there are some people who are joining who have no long distance running experience whatsoever. I guess that's what I was the most worried about, was that all the other runners would be kicking my butt...and there's a good chance they still might, but I feel a lot better after getting the summer work-out plan. I trained heavier while training for the 13.1 I ran a couple of weekends ago than I will be training this summer even in the heaviest part of the training. The only difference in training is that the miles per week are more evenly dispersed in the days than my miles I logged during half training. I'm really excited! I want to train super hard this summer so that nobody can even question my lack of experience on a team. This is going to be a good year. :)

The only other weird thing that I'm not used to about summer training is that it's all in minutes rather than in miles. So until July 7th, our goal is to run 5 days a week at 60 minutes a day. There's a big pond about .36 miles away from my house (have I mentioned that I now know pretty much all of the distances from my house to ever single place in the western suburbs.), so I usually run to the pond as a warm up and then run around the pond (which is about .82 of a mile around) until I get to super close to 60 minutes, and then I run back at my goal race pace for the 5K I'm running next weekend (so about at a 7:50 to 8:00 minute pace). The pond is right by a school and a playground, so there's always lots of people walking around it. There's also a lot of wildlife so I really enjoy observing all the cool birds and stuff as I'm running around. I usually have to run around like 7 or 8 times before I can stop but I like it. There's a good number of hills and stuff, too, so I feel like as far as a training course, it's a pretty good one.
So yesterday, I head out at around 6:30ish, water bottle in hand, hide my water bottle in the bushes somewhere along the lake (so that when I loop back around I can grab a sip of it) and start trudging along. I circle the pond about twice when I see this lady power walking. I smile and she smiles back. I circle her a few more times before she says something to me. "You're doing great!" she says. Every time I pass her, she says something new. So yay! haha. I made a friend! (kind of)
Anyway, this other little Asian couple were also power walking (there are a lot of power walkers that walk around the pond) and after I had looped past them a couple of times, the wife looks at me and says "Wow...you fast". I smiled and said thanks. My favorite part about running is when some little smart alek kid decides to make some remark. A lot of times I'll hear "Run Forest, run!!". Yesterday, one kid on the playground said "Go girl! Go!!" and another told me to run faster. Then I approached this mom and her daughter. The little girl must've been like 5. Once she hears my footsteps, she looks behind her, gets this HUGE smile on her face, and starts "racing" me. It was pretty cute.

So yes. I decided that I like running on the pond path by my house. It's fun. Especially when I get to race little kids. haha

So if you think I'm bad talking about running...

You haven't even begun to hear me go on and on and on about music. :-)

The other night, i went to go see the Elgin Symphony Orchestra with my mom. The school I'm going to in the Fall (Judson!! Woo hoo!!) sponsored the event, and I was invited, along with all the other upcoming music students/music scholarship people to come and meet some Judson students and faculty, and to enjoy a beautiful performance...for free as well. The feature of the night was a beautiful piano concerto by Grieg. It was from the Romantic era (Which is my favorite era in music...music majors...or...anthropology majors too I guess...holla!!) so I was like super excited to go. The pianist was completely amazing. The orchestra was beautiful. The piece itself was completely stunning.

I always go to the symphony, no matter where it's at, half expecting to have fallen out of love with music in the time since I last heard a really good classical piece performed live. I walk into the room, take my seat, and wonder if I'm going to spend the next two hours waiting for it to just be over with. I am always, indisputably, terribly wrong. From the second I walk into the auditorium, and look around at the lights down low, and hear the low murmurs of the crowd that has yet to settle down, and watch the symphony tuning up their instruments, see the lights on the stage, I begin to get tingles down my spine. When the 1st violin comes out and plays that first note, to tune the rest of the orchestra, my heart perks up a little. And then the music starts. And all of a sudden, I find that I am sitting at the edge of my seat, falling gracefully up and down with the music, my heart breaking, and swelling, and breaking all over again. I watch the orchestra play their instruments with such passion, and see the way they've obviously connected to the piece they're playing. I think I kind of fall in love with them too. As the piece crescendos and decrescendos, strong, and beautiful, I find that music has once again enraptured me and stolen my heart away. I realize that I have fallen in love with the thing I've always loved all over again.

The final piece was written by an early 20th century composer. At the turn of the century, many people thought that the symphony, that classical music was a pleasure of the past. This was the age of the automobile, of electricity, of the future! No one would have time to sit around and listen to a piece of music, or a 30 minute to an hour long piece of music at that. This composer felt quite otherwise. He wrote the symphony played to prove to the world that the symphony, that music at it's very core, could never be eliminated. The world was proved wrong upon the uprising of his piece. I imagine that as they heard this symphony, it beckoned them to the other symphonies, the forgotten ones. I'd imagine that they sat in their seats, waiting for the orchestra to start, waiting to see what all the fuss was about, and found, as the music crescendo'd and decrescendo'd that they, once again, much like myself, were completely enraptured, by the music filling the room around them. Music, once again, had stolen hearts, had started dreams, and proved that it unshakable.

The piece was titled "The Inextinguishable". The composer titled it this because he wanted to, in one word, communicate that music is life, and that nothing, no turn of the century, no new invention, no revolutionary object, thing, or era could ever eliminate this fact. Music is the inextinguishable. There is no argument about it.

So, I just want to close by saying that I can run a million miles, win a thousand races, buy a hundred new pairs of gym shoes and the like, but no matter how much time goes by, no matter how my heart changes, music will always, to me, be the unquenchable desire that burns within in, the passion that moves me, the life long friend, and the inextinguishable.

(My new 2 mile PR is 16:13:04!!)

This year is going to be fantastic

Races completed:

St. Johns 5K Hecto Run: May 9th
13.1 Chicago Half Marathon: June 7th 2:36:30

Future races...

Bud's Run to Celebrate Life 5K: June 27th - projected goal time - 25:00:00
Chicago Half Marathon: September 13th - projected goal time - 1:55:00 (I'm going for 5 minutes below my last goal just to prove I can do it)
Indianapolis Marathon - October 17th - projected goal time - 4:11:00

This week's recovery work out so far...

Monday - off day, but couldn't take it so I did some core work
Tuesday - supposedly an off day again but I couldn't take it so I biked 4 miles. I saw two people running and nearly cried. I can't wait to start running again. I think I'll go for a short run tomorrow. :)

Some things I've learned

So last night I was dead tired when I was posting and also didn't want to leave a super long post. Therefore, I want to share a few things I learned from the race.

1. I CAN do it. I doubted myself a lot throughout training. It was hard, but I did it. I finished. Maybe not with my intended time, but I definitely finished. AND IT FELT GREAT!
2. I learned that as I train for the full marathon, I want to take some new approaches. One of the things I want to implement more of into my training is a lot more strength training, speed work, and core work.
3. I want to start paying a lot more attention to my times, and recording them to see if I'm improving or not, and if not, coming up with a different plan so that I can improve on times.
4. When on a run, and I feel like stopping, instead find something to distract myself on the run. Like I said in my race summary, on the run I started counting things to distract myself and it worked really well. I think an essential part of long distance running has a lot to do with getting yourself out of your head.
5. I want to take less rest days and use the rest days as cross training days. In training for my half, my last day of the week I ran before my long run on Saturday was Thursday. I took Friday off to rest. I think this is good. I also took Sunday off, however, to rest, and Monday was an actual scheduled cross training day. Instead, I'd like to implement a Friday off day, Saturday long run, Sunday cross train, and Monday back to running routine. This way I only have one day a week without any workout whatsoever and I'm also running 5 days a week.

Someday I'll write a blog post not about running.

Race report!

Soooooo

I did it! Not in the time I wanted, but I finished and that's what counts. My official time was 2:36:30. I except I would've came in at a 2:10 about if I hadn't gotten sick at mile 9. I had to make two bathroom stops. Sad, but I'm proud of myself for pushing through the illness and finishing in a pretty good time considering that I had to stop twice.

SOOOO let me give you the play by play.

First let me say that I woke up at 3:45 fricking AM this morning. That is hands down the earliest I have ever woken up in my life. I changed into my running clothes and grabbed my pre-packed stuff I had gotten together the night before, hopped into the big yellow Service Master truck with my parents, and we were off. We arrived at the South Shore Cultural Center at around 6AM, so I had plenty of time to stretch and get warmed up seeing as I picked up my race packet the day before. The time pretty much flew by and before I knew it I was standing at the starting line in my wave corral.

I crossed the starting line feeling really good. My breathing was fairly even, and I tried really really hard to pace myself despite the fact that the competitive edge in me wanted to run ahead and pass all the runners in front of me. The race was all along the lake front path downtown, so it was really nice running along the lake. Miles 1-4.5 were fairly easy, but after that I started to feel myself getting a little tired. Still early on in the race, I got pretty worried but kept tredging along.

Let me interrupt myself by saying that I'm really thankful for all the amazing people who prayed for me and encouraged me along the training road and during the race. All of you guys are the best! Being a Sunday morning, I had to miss church, and didn't even really realize it until I got to mile 6. Along the race course, there were signs with little jokes, or famous Chicagoan quotes, and right after the mile marker for mile 6, there was a sign that said...

"I've got a fever ... and the only prescription is more cowbell!"

And in that moment, I knew I was going to finish. On the worship team at my church, we always joke about that quote. Every time someone mentions the band doesn't seem as full, or the song is missing someone, it usually only takes a few seconds for someone to say "...could use a little more cowbell..." or "how about some cowbell?"
It was like God reminding me of my amazing church family all praying for me as I ran. So thank you for your prayers!! You guys are the best!

At mile 7, I started to hit the wall. I was also starting to feel sick from a mix of the gatorade they had and not eating enough for breakfast. I knew I had to figure out a way to keep going. The race was a big loop, and during mile 8 I believe it is you do a turn around and start running down the opposite side of the lake front path...so going in, we could see all the runners who had begun to start back to the finish line...so I decided to count all the people who were wearing black bottoms. It totally worked! I was so distracted counting black bottoms that mile 7 and 8 flew past like crazy. At mile 9, I got sick and had to stop at the bathroom. As mentioned earlier, that and one more bathroom stop significantly hurt my time. I ran the last three miles repeating my counting routine. When there were no more runners to count, I counted the yellow lines on the lake front path...when those turned into one straight line, I counted the cars that passed on Lake Shore Drive which we were running next to. Mile 12 was really hard. My legs were pretty sore and I really just wanted to stop running. The last mile was adrenaline filled to the max. By this time, some of the runners who had finished were walking on the grass next to us, shouting out words of encouragement and families had camped out telling us, "you're almost done! you can do it!". Once I heard the crowds at the finish line that's what did it and I started sprinting. My parents were waiting at the finish line for high-fives. I crossed the finish line super super happy. After crossing all I remember is people handing me tons and tons of stuff. Haha. But yeah, I just remember walking into the grass, and thinking that I wanted to stop so bad the last mile, but now all I wanted to do was run again because my legs had started to cramp up after stopping and while running I couldn't really feel them. It's funny how things flip around on you.

Anyway I'm super proud of myself for finishing. I learned a lot about racing and training and will definitely be taking a little different approach to training when I start training for Indianapolis. So yep! That's it. Now maybe I'll start blogging about other stuff besides running...although it isn't really likely... ;-)

FREAKING OUT

Except not so much...

But I mean, c'mon...the race? It's in 2 DAYS!!! It seems like just yesterday I was like, oh man I have 7 weeks to train. CRAZY. But seriously. 2 DAYS. That's insane.
I ran my last run yesterday before the race and it was a pretty good run. Just two miles but it was a good one. I averaged a little over a 9 minute pace and that was with stopping once to re-tie my shoe. I'm super excited and a teeny tiny bit nervous. I will give a full race summary most likely on Monday...woo hoo! Crazy!!!

Loving the things you have

I'm a bad blogger...I know.

I haven't blogged in a few days but I've been a busy girl. This morning I was thinking about how in the past year or so, there are a lot of things I've really truly learned to love that I wasn't so sure about before.

1. Of course, you knew I would list this one. Running. And running in the lower 60's, on a beautiful sunny day, out in nature, the birds singing and the bugs chirping away. I also love a beautiful soft breeze, not enough to be wind, but just enough to be refreshing.
2. Waking up early early early in the morning and making a pot of fresh beautiful brewed coffee and eating breakfast while reading my bible, followed by reading the newspaper.
3. Summer mornings spent in bed with coffee a an excellent book.
4. Summer nights with a fan stuck in the window.
5. Playing silly games and laughing my head off at some of my favorite kindergartners in the whole wide world.
6. FRESH raspberries eaten immediately after being picked off the bush.
7. Playing hard all day and sleeping hard all night only to be awakened by a beautiful new morning. :)
8. Shiny metals...:)
9. Discovering that there truly is a freedom in wearing no make up.
10. Going to teeny tiny little book stores and picking a pile of books and sitting on the floor for hours while skimming them and taking in that wonderful smell of old books.
11. Fresh flowers picked straight from the garden...fresh flowers in general.
12. Watermelon when it's super super hot outside.
13. Laying in the grass...the nice kind of grass, not the kind that makes you all itchy and pricks your legs when you try to lay down in it.
14. Bike rides through tall grass fields and forests.
15. Taking LOTS and LOTS and LOTS and LOTS of PICTURES!
16. Good movies that make me cry like a baby.
17. Random paintings found at antique stores or thrift stores that shouldn't be there in the first place because they have way too much personality to ever be surrendered.
18. Chocolate covered pretzels from Trader Joe's
19. Laughing so hard that tears are streaming down my eyes, my abs hurt, and I'm about ready to pee my pants.
20. Learning how to love...for real...it may hurt along the way a little, and it may not seem like you're learning love but rather bitterness or heartbreak, but in the very end it's completely and totally worth it. I promise. :)

In retrospect, crunches do look pretty funny to someone who doesn't work out

So today was my off day running which was like sooo difficult which is strange for me because I normally love my off days. I think it's because lately I really haven't been even like half as sore as I usually am. Yay! My muscles are getting used to this!! Haha. So yeah, because of it being my off day, I really focused on like weights and doing some core work and stuff. I really only have two things to say.

1. Elton John, as stupid as this is, is my new favorite musician to lift to. For real, put Bennie and the Jets up super loud, it's the bomb. And I sincerely don't care what people think of me now either.

2. I made my little brother hold my feet down while I did sit ups today and let me just say that he is the most ridiculous person I know. First, he tries to stand on my feet, so I say no, sit down and do it, so he sits down, except he goes to put his butt on my feet. He's a little smart alek. Anyway, I'm counting out loud, and he goes "Uhhhh...Aubree...are you trying to count how many nipples you have?" causing me to laugh which makes me sit ups harder. Then he says "Uhh...Aubree...are you trying to count how many poops you're making right right?" because earlier he came in while I was doing crunches and said it looked like I was trying to poop in a demented way. 12 is such a fun age.

8 days and counting!!

SO, first let me say that I almost got hit by a car while running today! It was scary. There were no side walks, so I was running close to the curb in the street, and this guy like basically turned into the wrong side of the street and almost hit me. I jumped into the grass. But yeah, I'm alive.

Beside my near death or injury experience (I think I'm a little of a drama queen) I actually had a fantastic run. Let me just say that todaaayyyy I ran 5 miles in 46:05. That's AMAZING for me. My first mile was a 10 minute warm up mile which means that somewhere in there I must've run like a 7 minute mile. I was a stud. It was amazing. After all the important stuff though, let me just say that during my run this morning I had like the most amazing experience. It's been a while since I've gotten up and gone running. Since school has let out I've been lazy and have been doing my runs in the evenings. But like today I totally remembered what I love about running.

1. I love that I get to be out in nature almost every day. This morning, I was running on the prairie path, which is a nature trail by my house that stretches like for miles and miles almost all the way into southern Illinois, and the birds were chirping, it was like the perfect temperature outside, the flowers were all in bloom and it was just completely amazing. There was a light breeze on my face. For a part of my run, I just closed my eyes and thanked God for the amazing blessings He's given me. I was almost in tears! Which brings me to my next point.

2. I love how raw my emotions are when I'm running. There's no trying to mask anything. If I'm angry, I'm obviously angry, and if I'm happy, I can't stop smiling. All of my energy is going into the run, so frustration and determination and the like all come out as purely as they're being felt. There are very few moments in my life where I experience emotion that's completely unmasked like that. While in every day settings, this can be a kind of scary thing, but while bouncing along on the Prairie Path, it's really not a terrible thing. It allows me to feel what I need to feel while not doing any damage along the way.

3. I love the like secret brotherhood and sisterhood that runners seem to share. I pass other runners all the time while running, mainly when I'm on the Prairie Path, and every time there's like this little acknowledgment of each other that goes on. Sometimes it's a smile, other times it's a nod. There are even times when it's a "Good morning! Have a great run!" I even kind of like it when it's simply a grunt. Any way you do it, it's always accompanied by a little hint of understanding, like "I hear you brother/sister!" Often times when I've been on a challenging run, and it's clear on my face, the brotherhood/sisterhood of runners comes through and helps me out. Someone will pass me, understand the look on my face, and offer up a word of encouragement. When I was doing my 7 miler for my half marathon training (which was hands down the most difficult run I've ever been on), I passed this guy who looked like he was about in his 40's, and he looked like a champ. Like the guy was a beast. His leg muscles were rippling and he had all the awesome running gear. I saw the expression of frustration on my face and recognized it right away. As he passed, he showed me this huge grin, and said "Keep going! You're doing awesome!". "Thanks..." I muttered, but it kept me going.

I discovered all those things this morning as I was flying down the path. It was one of those amazing runs where you remember exactly why you love the sport you do. When running isn't boring, but rather a beautiful experience. When it isn't forcing yourself to put one foot in front of the other and hoping you make it to the finish line...when it's just purely amazing...just you, God, and the pavement (or trail...or sidewalk...where you run!) I love it.

...8 days!!!

Heavenly Post-Race Parties.

(Disclaimer...I promise...promise promise promise that after the half in about a week I will undoubtedly talk about other things in my blog again...but there's no denying it...I've got the fever - ;-) )

Yay! Double blog post day again! The majority of the reason I'm blogging is because it's 10:16 at night, and today is my off day, and I seriously seriously seriously have been craving a run. It's still early enough that I could get in a little night jog, my favorite kind of running. This rarely happens to me. I think I'm just getting so amped up about the half that I want to prove to myself that I can run. Anyway, tomorrow is a 6 miler and I want to see if I can beat my last time. If I can do just a taadddd better, then I'm very confident that I'll also finish the half at my goal time.

Anyway, I'm writing because I was reflecting on how there are two different types of runners. In my book, anyway. So anyway, like I said, I just finished reading this book by Dean Karanazas who won the worlds hardest foot race (Badwater). Anyway, at the end of the book he talks about running being his salvation, he's sanctuary. This bothers me a lot. Ok, I know that not everyone believes what I believe, but I happen to think that only God is my salvation. Dean (I speak of him as if he is my friend...I think someday I should talk about my deep obsession with books also...) finds solace in running extreme races...but what happens when all the races with all the crazy amount of miles runs out? What happens when you injure yourself and can't run? What if you were to become paralyzed from the waist down? Then is running your salvation? I don't know, it's all kind of silly I guess, but I kind of want to redeem myself here I guess. I think that Dean would be the first kind of runner, the kind that see's running as their salvation, the kind that lives a life full of finish lines, never knowing which one will be the final one. I on the other hand, and I think a few others who happen to be running the ultimate race with me, the heavenly one, run ultimately for one finish line. That finish line is our Savior's arms. I run because it helps me to be a calmer, more relaxed person. It helps me understand my faith. It challenges me. A lot of times, when I'm running, I pray. I love praying when I run, too, because my thoughts are so sporadic, my prayers are so completely naked, like stripped of the "Our fathers, who art in heaven" 's, and all the religious mumbo jumbo. My prayers during runs are often times like "Hey God, so I'm really frustrated today with the way this person or that person treated me. I don't know, I guess I need more patience. Could you help me with that?" It's me praying, not some silly religious fanatic. I pray from my heart. Sometimes, my prayers are even interrupted by "Hang on God, I gotta get up this hill...grunt...errr...I can do it...". I think in those moment's, God's like "Ok Aubree...yeah! You can do!! Get up that hill my beloved!!" My point being I guess, is that I love running, but not without first loving God. Running half marathons, 5K's, or even marathons are all just a part of this greater, bigger race I happen to be in.

And man, what a post race party that'll be.

Crazy racing dreams...

Ok, I would just like to say that I'm officially obsessed in running because it is not only the only thing I think about, it is the only thing I dream about. As in my literal sleeping dreams revolve around running. Maybe I'm just nervous. Last night I had two dreams about running that I remember. The first dream, I dreamt (is that a word?) that it was race day for the half, and I woke up at like 3am with my alarm (because we have to leave by 4:30am to get to the shuttle on time downtown) and my parents drove me, and when I got there I found out that like a ton of people I knew in high school were there. Like one of my best friends was totally there going to run the race. And she was wearing like this huge baggy pants and I was like trying to tell her that she could borrow a spare pair of shorts that I had brought because she wouldn't be able to run in those pants, but she wouldn't take them. Then some people convinced me that the race started in the basement of this building and that we all would run out of this big sliding industrial door. So I went inside this building with like two other people, and then we walked into this huge dark gymnasium with an indoor track and this weird lady was standing in the middle of it and was doing like yoga moves and stuff and they tried to get me to do them, so I did for like 30 minutes and then I realized I was going to miss the actual race so I ran upstairs and the race had already started and they wouldn't let me start late because the race had already been in progress for like 20 minutes. So I was very upset and I decided to run my own half marathon just so I knew I could do it, but no one would run it with me and for some reason that bothered me (even though I actually mainly prefer to run alone anyway most of the time. Sometimes I enjoy the company.) So yeah, I ended up just sulking around the starting line. So then I had another dream where I signed up to do another half marathon, and my dad decided to run part of it with me, like a few miles, but they wouldn't let him do that, so he decided to run along on the grass with me like not officially in the race, but there were too many spectators and he ended up elbowing some guy in the face and security dragged him away. I wish I had stayed asleep long enough to find out my time for that race so that I could be like "No, I'm not settling for anything less because it's my dream destiny to get that time!"

Anyway, all this dreaming got me thinking about my long runs. I thought about my brother, Noah's comment a couple days ago about running being boring, and I realized that it totally is. How does one keep themselves occupied by running in the same general direction for like 10 miles? In truth, each long run for me is completely different. There are the runs that I'm totally in-tuned to like every single sense in my body. Every minor smell, any way that my mouth my taste at the moment I'm completely aware of it. Those are the times when running is hard. But then there are times, like in my recent 10 miler where I completely tune out for long stretches of miles. In essence, I guess this is pretty dangerous, but it's kind of necessary for running long distances in my opinion. Anyway, I started thinking about what things I think about. The very first thing I think about when I start running is about pacing myself. Like I mentioned previously, I have a hard time starting easy when I start a run. So I concentrate pretty hard on keeping my pace slow. After the first couple of miles, I let my mind wander. Although this is weird, I always think about what it would be like running next to the people in my life who've told me that I can't. I think about this guy I dated in high-school who was like a super athlete, and every single time I would go to do something, and I would make a goal for myself, he would tell me that a more realistic goal would be lower. For the ACT, my goal was a 27 or 28. He told me I probably would only get a 24 or 25. I never felt confident enough to accomplish anything with any amount of success. I always think about what it would be like for him to pass me on the Prairie Path as I run, me running like a champ, with my new runners body flashing past him (that would definitely be one of my favorite parts of running. So far I've lost 1 1/2 inches off my waist and I'm starting to get these amazing leg muscles...I love it...it's almost better than my black toe nail...). I imagine giving him a brief nod and a smile, like I don't have time for chatting. This hasn't happened yet. I imagine that if it ever does happen, which is actually more possible than I probably recognize, it probably won't happen that gracefully.
Lately I've been thinking about this book that I just finished reading, The Ultra Marathon Man by Dean Karnazes. It's about this guy who runs these crazy races. He won the worlds hardest foot race, which is 135 miles in the middle of Death Valley in the middle of summer. He is a beast. There's this quote in it from his old middle school track coach that I love and always think about whenever I want to stop. Dean gets put into the mile race and his coach instructs him to start strong and end strong. He darts out of the starting line, and stays strong throughout the entire race, ending up winning the race. Afterwards, his coach comes up to him and says "So. How did it feel?" Dean answers, "Well, it was hard at first, but at the end it felt pretty good". He coach responds...

"Good? If it feels good you did something wrong. It's not supposed to feel good. It's supposed to hurt like hell"

SO, if you ever drive past a little short brunette bouncing along on the road, and see her muttering something under her breath, it is most likely, "It's supposed to hurt like hell...it's supposed to hurt like hell"

And that's what I'll leave you with.

Jesus spiders, marathons, and slower starts.

I have silly revelations about my life in the midst of things like chillin' with my Kindergartners, and running. Like today, it was nap time at the Y (for the kids, unfortunately, not for me. Boo, because I could've used one today). During nap, since the kids are like almost in first grade, a lot of them don't actually nap. It's kind of more like quiet time. We pull out little mats that they lay on the floor on top of, turn off the lights, and play some nice mellow music (My favorite to play them lately has been Brahms...the man was a genius), but sometimes, when I feel like being a cool teacher, I read to them. We've already blown through a couple of Boxcar Children books, a book about a little duck named Scrawney, and The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. Right now we're reading James and the Giant Peach. So anyway, we're about done with the book (I'm still trying to decide what we will move onto next...possibly Prince Caspien?) and we get to the part right before James and his friends see the Cloud Men making hail stones and knock the centipede off of the peach. There's this big dialogue between James and the bugs, and the Earthworm starts telling James about how every single bit of soil on the earth has once passed through an earthworm, and that the farmers love earth worms for this because it makes the soil healthy. Then the lady bug starts telling James about how the farmers also love her because she eats all the nasty bugs off of their crops. Centipede of course chimes in exclaiming he's a pest and proud of it...and then there's the spider. Poor Miss Spider starts telling James about how she's hated, but all she ever does is good. She catches the bad bugs in her webs and eats them, never bothering anyone. Still, when humans find her kind, they kill them. That got me thinking. Jesus is kind of like the spider! He did the world good, but the world didn't, and doesn't perceive what he was doing as good, so they hated him and killed him...or tried anyway. Yep. I love my job.

Anyway, as far as running goes, my race is exactly in 10 days...this has been scaring the bazookas out of me. Well I'm excited, but also very scared. I know I'll do well. Besides, I've been reading this new book called The Ultramarathon Man and it's about this guy that won the hardest footrace in the world and runs like crazy races (right now I'm reading about how he's completing an 11 man relay race that stretches out 199 miles, except he isn't completing it with 10 other men, he's doing it by himself) and it's motivating me a lot. Also, the Indianapolis Marathon is my next feat (hopefully) to accomplish, and it's a Boston Marathon qualifier. Can you see me on Heart Break Hill? Haha, maybe I'll wait another couple of years (and couple of marathons) to try that one.
Anyway, I've realized that one of my biggest challenges in running is that I have trouble starting slow. I get all excited and amped up to run, and I dart out the door and complete my first mile or two at like a 7:50 or less pace and then I tire myself out and end up finishing my run at around a 9:40 to 10:00 minute pace. Yeah. Wow. So anyway, I'm really working on that. I will post results once I've mastered it.

SO...Jesus spiders, marathons, and slower starts. Yep. That would about sum it up. :)

I forgot some stuffsss

Ok, so I've realized that I'm not ready for bed yet. I'm sitting here icing my ankle because I'm like super duper paranoid about injuries, and anytime anything hurts (especially a joint) even remotely, and it's not just the normal soreness kind of hurt, I ice it because the very last thing I want to happen is to find out that I can't run my race because I was stupid and not careful. So yeah, my ankle hurt so I'm icing it.
So today my run was excruciatingly difficult. That's extremely strange, seeing as yesterday I totally cheated my good old running schedule and only ran 2 miles plus some speed-work on my street. Seeing as my work out was fairly easy yesterday, I was pretty confident going into my 5 mile scheduled for today. The second I stepped foot out of the door into my run I felt like I had just run 10 miles, not 0. In fact, at the end of my last 10 mile run, I felt better than I did starting my little fiver. Anyway, I started super slow, like obnoxiously slow to the point where I was getting annoyed with myself because I wasn't getting anywhere. Sometimes when I first start a run, my legs seriously fight it with everything they have and I feel like turning around the second after I start. Then after about a mile in, they're all warmed up and feel better. I figured this would happen. It did not. My legs felt awful the entire time.

So here is what I have concluded. I seem to find that there is a direct correlation between my hard days and a few other variables. For instance, if I did not sleep well/enough the night before, my run is hard. If I didn't eat right, or drank a lot of pop/caffeine, my run is hard. But today, I didn't do that. I was really good with eating, and I didn't drink any pop (this is actually quite an accomplishment for me). Here's what I think it is. The kids in my Kindergarten class are like obsessed with trying to knock me over and like sit on my lap, and jump on my legs. I'm pretty sure that's why my run was hard. I always notice that on days when I spend a lot of time running around the gym with them, or when they decide it's funny to hurt my legs, or I give too many underdogs on the swings, I have a hard time running. So I've adopted this new policy where I refuse to run/push swings/allow children to sit on me when I know I have a big run ahead of me. Unfortunately, I forgot today and did all three. Boo.

But yeah I survived. Oh yeah, and go figure, I turned the corner to get home, and all of a sudden my legs were all "Oh yeah, we remember how to do this" and I seriously felt like I could run another couple of miles. I didn't want to strain myself though, so I didn't. Thanks a lot legs. Thanks a lot.

11 Days and Counting (and starting to hear 26.2 call my name)

So, I might as well change this blog to like The Journeys of a Runner, or something like that because every single entry seems to be about running. I think it's all I talk about lately...and think about...yeah, I'm officially obsessed. Anyway, I would just like to say one little thing. Remember yesterday when I talked about the insanity only beginning, and that running a half marathon was only the first step to craziness? I find that the things I say are pretty prophetic. I was pretty disappointed yesterday to find out that the Chicago Marathon is full. I told my mom about it and she, being the amazing person she is, said "Well what about Milwaukee? I'd drive you up!!" Sooo, I looked up Milwaukee...closed also. This, however, got me thinking. I then proceeded to look up Madison, and Grand Rapids...both closed. Then I punched in Indianapolis. Still open...and the good news is that they aren't even close to their cap off number, and I would still get the early bird rate even if I waited until after the half marathon to register. I'm actually fairly sure I'm going to do it. The date is October 17th...so look out.

My challenge here is that I'm starting at a brand new school this upcoming Fall semester. October is mid-terms...do I care? Not really. This is because I'm insane.

This morning as I was making myself some breakfast, my younger brother walked into the kitchen, looked at me, and said "So, you're really getting into this running thin aren't you?" I raised my eyebrows at him and nodded. "Why? Running is boring"
And I realized he was completely right. Running is boring...to someone who isn't insane. It takes a special kind of person to actually choose to throw on a pair of running shoes and dash out the door, not returning until they've completed 10, 15, 20, 26.2 (I'm getting used to that number...) miles. I think I am becoming that type of person. Seriously, I was thinking about it, and 7 weeks ago I had no idea I would be doing this. I just randomly decided to run 13 miles completely out of the blue. I came from being a casual jogger to a serious and motivated runner...in 7 weeks. I'd say I'm pretty hard core.

Not to mention the black toe nail I've been sporting. :)

Only the beginning of the insanity...

So I feel that in speaking of all this running business, I should offer up a disclaimer. I, in no way, shape, or form, really even consider myself an athlete. In fact, I find that it's extremely and unbelievably ironic that in 12 days (YIKES!!!!), I will be running a total of 13.1 miles...and that after running that, I don't intend on stopping there, my next goal being the full marathon. My reason for this being is that in all complete and total seriousness, I have always hated running (with an unnerving passion actually). In fact, I've hated sports in general. I was never ever the child you would pick first on you kick ball team. Actually, I was probably the one who opted out to go play with chalks on the side walk or finger paint. I hated all games that had to do with balls. Kickball, baseball, soccer, basketball, football. There really was no exception. In fact, the one sport I did partake in was figure skating, which I did for 8 years, and the reason I fell in love with it is because a.) you get to wear pretty costumes and b.) you get to go really fast with little physical exertion. Yep. Definitely the sport for me. As much as I hated games involving balls, though, there was one thing that I don't think I could possibly have hated more. I would've rather been subject to extreme torture. I think I would've chosen to eat a dozen worms, or have needles stuck into my body repeatedly than partake in this activity. I hated running. I remember playing tag with the neighborhood kids, and trying to devise ways I could run the absolute least possible it is to run while still not getting tagged. I had a number of techniques. The first and most obvious was the I was a base hoverer. While my friends all ventured across the back-yard, sprinted and turning and twisting away from the tagger, I stayed within a good 5 feet of the base at all times. That way, if the tagger did happen to come on over, it would only take me a couple seconds to spot her/him, and quickly jump back onto base. This generally worked until my friends started instituting "1 2 3 get off my father's apple tree" and the 10 (big) steps rule, which basically meant that once I got called off base, I could not longer hover. Then I implemented the "Time out!!!" trick. Once the tagger would get within tagging distance of me, I would scream, "TIME OUT!!!" and then act like I was going to say something extremely important. Then I would sprint to base and scream "TIME IN!" once I had a good enough head start. My friends felt that this was cheating and nixed this trick too. Pretty soon I just started developing strange and mysterious diseases that caused me to have to suddenly stop playing once it was tagged. I first developed exercise-induced asthma. When I would get tagged, I would do a short little sprint after someone, and then start coughing violently, throwing myself onto the ground and rasping out... "Can't...run...*cough cough*...asthma". Soon I "hyper-extended" my achilles tendon. I also developed a rare disease in which caused my red blood cells to become toxic and explosive, but only when running and that if I tried to run my legs would explode. I was pretty tricky.
Actually, running started for me when I decided I needed to start exercising. I started by running around the block. When I was done, I would be about ready to collapse. However, it was the sense of accomplishment, of being able to say I did it that kept me going. I remember one run in specific, it was dusk when I set out, and the night air was cool. I put my ear buds in and started around the block, but felt really good after I had completed that, and decided to keep going. Probably about 10 strides after I passed my house again after deciding to go farther, I regretted it, but I kept going. I had just gone through a pretty painful period of my life, and was recovering. I felt horrible, like crap, and the only thing I wanted to do was stop and turn around and walk home. My entire body said "Just quit. You can't do it" but I didn't. I kept running...and then something completely miraculous happened...I broke through the wall. Suddenly, I wasn't running anymore, I was flying, and the only thing I knew was God, me, and the pavement. I remember throwing my head back and laughing, and people probably thought I was crazy. I ran 2 3/4 miles that evening, which was a remarkable feat for a person who didn't even like to run across the backyard during tag.

Running isn't always like that. Running is really hard the majority of the time. I guess I run for the moments like I had on my evening run. Of the times when I'm flying because I know I did it.

The other day someone asked me why I decided to do a half marathon. He asked as if he were speaking to a crazy person. To me, running the half isn't really very crazy. A lot of people do. Marathons are a little crazy. Triathlons, kind of. Iron man competitions, crazy. 50 milers, 100 milers, those are brinking on insanity. Half marathons are just the beginning of the insanity. I was kind of lost for words. I guess I don't really know why I decided to do it. I just looked at him and answered, "Because I like running." He stared at me for a very long time, nodded his head, and said "Ok, then". Then he walked away.

He has no idea.

I've realized a few things about myself.

Today and yesterday were quite stressful for me. The kids at work have been crazy, and I have like sixty billion things to get finished for school in the fall, and then to top it all off, my car completely dies as I'm backing it out of the driveway. Today was not too much better. I guess I really didn't want to wake up this morning. I wanted to stay in bed until like, forever, but I had to get up and get showered and stuff. My mom drops me off at work (because my car isn't starting and was towed this morning) and I'm already stressed. Work wasn't horrible, but I think all the kids have end-of-the-school-year-itus. Basically they're insane and think they can get away with anything since it's the end of the school year and they want to be done just as much as we do. My mom picks me up, and I'm crabby already, only to find out that something called the timing chain broke on my car and I won't get it back until next week. I also find out that I haven't changed the oil in a very long time and that even though the guy changed the oil for me, my engine might still seize. Also, there's this little thing called a 700 buck bill. So I'm tired, crabby and stressed.

This is where the realizing a few things about myself comes in. Sometimes, I get emotional just for the sake of getting emotional. Like I seriously sometimes feel like crying in situations that aren't the big of a deal. I seriously was so upset.

And then there are these two factors that play into my life called eating and running. I got home, threw on my work out clothes, ran 3 miles in 25 minutes and 52 seconds (which is a record for me, might I add) and then sat down and ate two hot dogs, two hamburgers, a huge piece of watermelon, and an ice cream sandwich.

I'm not crabby anymore.

The end.

Reaching the Cross Roads

In the past, if you have read my blog, you'll discover that I am training for a half marathon on June 7th. That is in less than three weeks. It's becoming extremely surreal as the days of training are flying by and there comes less and less time between when training is just training, and when training actually is applied. It's pretty scary, I'll admit. That's not the point of my story though. In my life, I am constantly finding that god reminds me of Himself through practical everyday things that I've committed to do. So, I'd like to share a story in which God showed me a thing or two.

On the weekends I do my long runs, and starting from 6 miles have been adding a mile every weekend. I'll stop at 11 miles, which is this upcoming Saturday. Anyway, yesterday (Sunday), I went for my 10 mile. I wasn't too enthusiastic about doing this. I would've done it on Saturday, but I was gone all day registering for classes at Judson. I had been up early that morning to go to worship team practice at church, and frankly was pretty tired. Another thing that factored into it was that the weekend before, when I was supposed to do 9, I ran a 5k and then a few miles after the 5k instead of running just a straight 9 miles. I was a little nervous about jumping from 8 miles to 10 miles, since 10 is a pretty crucial run. All morning I had been weighing my options. Should I just run maybe a 5 miler and then run a short run tomorrow? Exactly how hard would it be to just jump to 11 miles next weekend. I could do it. It would be hard, but I really don't want to run today. Maybe I won't run 11 miles, maybe I'll save the 10 miler for next weekend and then just have my next long run be the half marathon and jump right up to 13. I could do that. It wouldn't be a big deal, right? I guess I knew though that I needed to do it, so when I got home, I put my running clothes on (for motivation...haha) and ate a little lunch then let my lunch settle a little and then I left. Immediately after setting foot outside my door and beginning my run, I knew it wasn't going to be an easy one. My legs were kind of stiff from not running for a couple of days. I did some stretching, but probably not as much as I could've. I quickly became short on breath, for no real reason at all. And inside my head, all I could think was "I can't do this". I started thinking about the half and how much harder it was going to be. I was barely at mile 1, and all I wanted to do was turn around and go back home. I got up to about 1 3/4 miles when I got to a point in my run where if I turned right down one street, and started heading that way, it would take me straight back to my house and my run would end up equaling about 3 miles...maybe a little bit over that. If I kept running straight, I would have to keep pushing for the 10 miles I had originally set out to do. It became very clear as I was approaching this point that I had a decision to make. I could quit, and make the right and run home, or I could refuse to give into what my body so wanted to do (which was pretty much lay on the couch for the rest of the day...) and keep going.
I chose to keep going.
As I kept running, I realized a few things. One was that if I had turned, and gone home, I probably would've been happy temporarily, and satisfied with being able to flop on the sofa, but it wouldn't be long before I would start feeling like a quitter, a loser. It also dawned on me that if I had turned and went home, it would only be a week later that I would have to go from running 8 miles to 11 miles. 8 to 10 is bad enough, 8 to 11 would be hard. Another is that the entire time I was running, I kept thinking about how awesome it was going to be to be able to say confidently that I ran the 10 miles, even though it was hard, and that I wanted to quit. Then I thought about my faith. I thought about how there was a point in my life where I had found myself coming to a cross roads. Much like the one I came to in my run. I found that I had a choice to make. I could turn around and quit, give into the things that my body, my sinfulness was urging me to give into. Or, I could bite my lip, take a big breath and keep moving forward, towards the goal. I chose the latter. And it has been hard, seriously. There were a lot of times when I wanted to quit and turn around. I've come to a lot of mini cross roads since then, but it was choosing to keep going past that specific cross roads that has kept me running toward the goal, toward my Savior's arms.

I am proud to say that yesterday, I ran a total of 10.06 miles. It was hard, and there were a lot of times when I wanted to stop and turn back, but I didn't, I kept going. Today, I'm super super soar, my joints feel about 50 years older than they actually are, but I did it, I finished.
In my faith, I know that the race will be hard. Very hard, probably harder than running a half marathon at times, but I'm going to keep choosing to go forward, and not turn back. Because in the end, I know that the ultimate reward, the greatest finish line is waiting for me, I know that my savior, my Jesus will be there when I cross the finish. There, I know that I'll fall before His feet, and lay my crown of jewels there. I'm running, so that in the end, I'll get to hear Him say to me "Well done, my good and faithful servant". And yeah, I'll be tired, and sure, I might be a little sore when I'm done (although I'm not sure if you can be sore in heaven...), but in the end, it'll be worth it...much more worth it than running the 10 miles was.

Goodnight, and Good-Luck

(So I posted twice in a day...I'm behind)

Tomorrow is my last official day at the good, great College of Dupage. Though my year at COD has not always been the easiest of experiences, I have learned a lot, gained some college credits (that I think may transfer!!!), made some good friends, and over all survived (thus far, anyway). So, because COD was not too horrible, as less than horrible as it could possibly be I think, I feel that it is only necessary to pay tribute to the school which really never ruined me. To COD...

I like the way you're pencil sharpeners always work, and make sure my pencils sharp and pointy for optimum scantron taking efficiency. Not once did your pencil sharpeners fall apart nor did the top part that holds the shavings become unintentionally unscrewed.
I'm also quite fond of the completely random and slightly insane students you house. Your campus is more diverse than an international airport, and more languages can be heard in the hallways than in Wal-Mart on a Saturday afternoon. I've encountered men wearing children's costumes, women wearing cloaks, herds of fatties dressed in bumblebee costumes, and the like.
I'm partial to the way that even on a horrible day, when most are cranky, and all won't even look you in the eye there always seems to be just one person willing to hold the door open for you, smiling at you in the hallway, letting you cut in front of them in line in the cafeteria when you have a class in 5 minutes and are starving. I've met some of the meanest people in my life at the College of Dupage, and also some of the nicest.
It's also convienant how your hallways seem to have an everlasting supply of toilets. You were obviously thinking when you designed a place where a toilet is normally only around the corner from any given class, as I am a person who realizes she has to pee in the middle of the prof's lecture, and inevitably ends up dashing out the door about to pee herself after class is let out. If the only bathroom were down the hallway, I probably would have an accident. Fortunately, there is always, and I mean always one a few strides away. So thank you for preventing many an embarrassing accident on my behalf.

So, though I won't bid you goodbye officially for one more day, I do want to give you the credit you're do...that is...as long as the credits you've given me transfer to Judson in the Fall.

To love a rock

Andie is the 20 month old I used to nanny for, and occasionally babysit for now. At this age, she is doing the most hilarious things, which I believe would all warrant being granted a place in this blog, unfortunately I can’t share all of them. I will share one, however. One thing to know about Andie, is that she loves being outside. When I say she loves being outside, I mean she LOVES being outside. First of all, she loves squirrels. It’s actually really weird. Right after she turned 1 in August, I took her outside and was letting her walk around in the grass, when all of a sudden she let’s out a little squeal…actually it was more like an ear piercing scream and starts pointing. I am completely unaware of what on earth she’s pointing at, but it’s something near a big group of trees in her parent’s front yard. Andie is now running toward this group of trees, exclaiming “Ooo! Ooo!!” with extreme enthusiasm. It was then that I heard a rustling in the grass, and I realized what it was that Andie was getting so excited over. It was a squirrel. This actually would be semi cute if she didn’t struggle to go pet the squirrels every time she saw one. She’ll wiggle and squirm in my arms to try and go say hello. Again, this might be somewhat cute if squirrels were like cats, but squirrels are rabid animals that don’t exactly like it when you pet them. Andie obviously doesn’t know this. Sometimes we’ll be walking in the stroller, and suddenly a series of screams and squeals will burst from the buggie I’m hauling along. I’ll know instantly to start looking for the squirrel, and every time, without fail, there always is.
Second of all, she loves rocks. She actually loves rocks and wood chips and leaves and grass and flowers, and flower petals, and the cone part of Tennessee Cone Flowers. Yeah, we spend a lot of time outside. Anyway, it was one of those days in the middle of September that’s just perfect. It was just starting to get a little chilly outside, enough to warrant a sweatshirt, but not enough for anything else besides that. It was just the right kind of weather to take a 20 month old out in. So, needless to say, we spent a very large majority of the day outside. Andie had waddled over into the grass, and was squatting down, and picking up random bits and pieces of things up off the ground, then handing them to me. She’d pick up a wood chip, examine it, smirk, and then hand it over. Then she’d find a pebble, exclaim, “Ohhhh” and place it gently into my hands. She was having a heck of a time, and I was perfectly content sitting the grass next to her, holding her little collection of treasures. Andie had now reached a grouping of rocks that were lying in the dirt, and was completely overcome with joy by the sight of it. She took her time, picking up, then putting down each rock. A few she’d hand to me, a few she’d try to throw, and a few she’d put back where they belonged. That was when she spotted it – the dirtiest, nastiest rock anyone has ever seen. It was the kind that get’s all stuck in the ground after a rain storm, and then grows moss on the top, the kind that has bugs all underneath it when you pry it out of the dirt. It didn’t matter, Andie had just looked into the rocky eyes (if that’s even possible) of her heart’s desire. Quicker than I could stop her (this seems to be a pattern in my babysitting escapades), she dug her pudgy little fingers into the dirt and started digging (Ok, so at this point I wanted to see if she’d actually get the rock out.) She dug and dug, and grunted and furrowed her tiny little brow, until finally, with one great pull, she yanked out the rock of her dreams. Just then, a little old lady was walking by the house. Right as the woman was passing the driveway, Andie decided to express her delight by screaming at the top of her lungs, a pitch that could probably break glass. The poor woman must have jumped right out of her Depends. I apologized, and the lady straightened her wig and kept pushing her walker right on by, as if Andie had just completely disrupted her entire life by screaming about rocks. Or a rock, I should say. Andie stared at her treasure completely mesmerized. She looked up at me, gripping the rock in her hand. This was one treasure she was not handing over. Apparently, Andie had accomplished what she had come outside to do, because she got up, and startled waddling toward the door. I couldn’t help but stand there and laugh. She continued to waddle along, her treasure in hand, a days work completed. Andie had found her treasure.

I’ve been through 12 years in the general education system. I’m currently enrolled in college. I’ve met dozens and dozens of people who could be considered geniuses. I’ve met doctors, and theologians, philosophers, and scientists. I’ve spoken with some of the smartest people you could imagine. You would never think that the most valuable lessons I’ve ever learned are the ones I learned from people under the age of 12.
That day, Andie found a rock. She found a dirty, nasty, smelly rock. It was the same rock that dozens of people had walked past every day, that had gone completely unnoticed. But to Andie, that rock was the most beautiful, interesting thing she could possibly have found.
The truth is, there are some people, a lot of people who look pretty dirty at first glance – at least the situations in their lives do. People pass them on the street, take a look at all the dirtiness, and moss-covering all over them, scowl, and keep walking. Nobody wants to take the time to just dig a little. That day, Andie found a rock – a dirty, nasty, disgusting rock. A rock that her mother would be horrified to know Andie held if I hadn’t washed her hands before letting her touch anything. But Andie didn’t see a rock.
Andie saw a marvelous and sparkling treasure – one that stood out from all the other rocks. Andie dug and scraped and dug some more, all for that one little, nasty looking rock. I could say here that it was because Andie saw past the dirt…I don’t think that’s true – I personally believe that Andie loved the rock because of the dirt.
And maybe that’s a little too far-fetched still. I think Andie just fell in love with the whole rock, just as it was.
If the whole world saw each other exactly as Andie saw her rock that morning, there wouldn’t be any war, or racism, or hate. Everyone would love each other. And even if they didn’t quite accomplish the childish glee Andie found in finding that rock – even if they had to work on it…even if their love for the person who carried some gunk along with them was imperfect, I still say our world would be bright, it would be sweeter.
What would happen if the whole world woke up tomorrow morning, found a “rock” and loved it, just loved the whole thing, all of it, no matter how dirty it was?
You see, I think we take things, and people for granted. We have flashy ads by the thousands thrown at us every day, all colorful and loud and trying desperately to get our attention. Sometimes, I think we forget that if we just stopped for a second, just for one second, we might find that the greatest things in life, like rocks, or hugs from a friend, or kisses from a 20 month old (which Andie LOVES to give), they’re all free, and they’re just sitting there, waiting for us to stop listening for the thunder or wind, and start hearing the gentle whisper…just sometimes, you have to dig a little.

If I had a nickle for every person who has ever called me Audrey...

I've been thinking in the past few days about my name. My full name, and yes, I am going to use it on the internet, is Aubree Ellyn Redmond. My parents are creative individuals, and I have been told that it is derived from very many sources. Specifically, my first name is after a song by Bread, called Aubrey. It isn't spelled Aubrey, obviously. The reason for that is that my dad is a super big Lord of the Rings freak, and read my mom the trilogy while she was on bedrest when she was pregnant with my brother and I who are twins. The "bree" part of my name is after the town of Bree in Lord of the Rings. My middle name, is Ellyn, with a Y, and is specifically after my great aunt Helen, who was a writer. My parents, however, felt that Aubree Helen sounded funny, so they had the brilliant idea of changing it to Ellen. Again, that is not how it's spelled. I live close to a town called Glen Ellyn, and my parents thought it would be fun to name me after the town. I still have yet to find out exactly what did or didn't happen in that town that caused my parents to name me after it, nevertheless, that is my name. Aubree Ellyn Redmond.

When I was little, a hated my name. It was different, and people always accidently called me Audrey instead of Aubree. If they managed to actually call me by the right name, they would spell it wrong, as Aubrey rather than Aubree. It drove me insane. I also felt that it wasn't pretty. I wanted a name like my friends had. I wanted to be named Cathy, like the girl from Barney, then after I went through that phase, I wanted to change my name to Abigail. Soon, it became Rose, then Lily, then Melissa, and then I started to express myself creatively in the names Fern (like the girl in Charlotte's Web) and even, yes, believe it or not, Emerald (this one I came up with on my own...I don't know why). To make a long story short, which I guess I don't really know how to do, I just really didn't like my name. It wasn't until I was older that I began to appreciate it. I started to realize how nice it is to not have a common name, like Sarah, or Lauren, or Katie. I also started realizing how much I like it that my parents put thought into my name, because I started to see how much my name has shaped who I am. In the past years, having an uncommon name has challenged me to be an uncommon person, I think. If I were a Sarah or a Katie, I think it would've been easy for me to conform (as silly as that sounds) to what the entire world was doing. Being an Aubree automatically makes me different, and I've learned that this isn't a bad thing. Being an Aubree has also taught me about confrontation, and how to correct people with grace and how to be forgiving. As mentioned earlier, I'm often refered to as "Audrey" and my name has been mis-spelled more times than it has been spelled correctly. I have found that I've had to correct those around me more times than not when it comes to my name, and I've had to learn to do it in a way that efficiently gets my point across, yet offers grace and forgiveness on the front end. It's also helped me to learn how to stand up for myself, because there was a time when I would've just let the mistake slide.

There are also a few places in my life where I've completely been thrilled to see my name. When I was in the 5th grade, I had a pretty big part in the dinner theater play that my previous church had put on. I was Officer Hanson, a dispatch officer that worked for the NYPD (I believe), and had I think about 17 lines. One of the times I was proudest of the name I held, was when I saw the program read... Officer Hanson ............................ Aubree Redmond. Another time, when I was probably about 10, I entered a raffle to win the new Millenium Beanie Baby. They pulled the name out of the bin, and yelled "AUBREE REDMOND!" I was in pure shock. The next thing I knew, my brother was saying "Hey! That's my sister! Right here!" as he tugged me by the arm. I believe I cried as I accepted my prize. That beanie baby is worth all of $4.99 (I check periodically on Ebay) now. Still, it sits in my room, enclosed in the plastic case it came in, just to remind me how happy that day was. I also once called into a Christian radio station, trying to be the 6th caller or something, and won a gift certificate to a pancake house. They replayed my phone call about ten minutes later, and hearing them introduce me..."Aubree Redmond" as the winner, was possibly one of the more exciting days in my life. Having my name on the acceptance letter to the college I'm going to in the fall, or on the schedule for the church worship team, seeing someone I love call me "Aub" in a message on Facebook or an email, they're all completely wonderful ways to see my name. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I've learned to love my name.

Mainly though, the point I'm trying to make of all of this confusion, is that the very best thing about my name, the thing that will never ever be beaten by the lists of ways I can see my name in positive lights, is that God, the maker of the universe, the creator of the earth, the author of every story of every person and every place, knows my name. He never calls me Audrey, or spells it with a y. In fact, God, the lover of my soul, knows every single hair on my head, every particle in my body and adam that I'm made up of. God, all powerful, ultimate, all-mighty ruler over the entire earth, knows me. He knows my name. In fact, He has my name written in the Book of Life, and yours can be there, too. See, that's what's amazing about God, He doesn't just know my name, He knows yours, whether you seek Him or you don't, and He loves you, and calls you His own. And that, my friends, is the greatest peice of knowledge I will ever have to share.

The Only Person I Want to Be

Soooo...

I realize that the majority of my blogs have been like these super serious like life reflecting things for the past few weeks, but suck it up, that's how it's going to be. (haha)

Anyway

As cliché as this totally is, I just want to say that I've spent a large majority of the past four or five years trying to create this persona about myself, trying to control who I am and who I want to be. Which is a fancy way I guess of saying I've spent a lot of my conscious and developmental life trying to become something I was never going to be.
Like I've said before, I really sincerely like to plan things, and in the past, I've made attempts at planning out my entire life as a whole. I think that included who I was. I painted these personas of myself which adhered according to whatever I felt would benefit the most at the time. For a while, I was Aubree the rock-star, and then I met my first boyfriend and I was Aubree the active sporty person who enjoyed healthy eating and was trying (try being the key word here) as hard as I could to be thin and dripping with energy. I've also been Aubree the artist, Aubree the super ultra Christian, Aubree the questioning the institutionalized church because that's what was cool to do at the time Christian. I've also been Aubree the mis-understand genius who somehow knew something that nobody else did. Aubree the scholar, the angsty teen poet, and the actress. You name it, I've tried to paint myself as it pretty much. Unfortunately, no matter how many coats of paint you put on the concret wall, it's never going to turn it into dry wall, or a log cabin. Changing the outside was something I was good at, but this definitely didn't do anything but make the inside even more lost and confused. I guess somewhere along the line of being the person mixture of all people, or a certain person who I had deemed ideal, I lost the really kind of awesome person that I was. And as a disclaimer, I'm totally not meaning for this to sound like one of those self discovery stupid cheesy blogs but I think it definitely is heading that way. So, I guess if you like that keep going, and if not, I don't blame you for stopping here. Anyway, all this junk, which you can find out about if you read a little farther back in my blog happened in my life, which pretty stripped all of the paint which I had taken such care to maticulously craft and design off the wall. I was like this totally empty, hurting and broken person who on top of all of that was realizing she had no idea who she was.
And then something marvelous and miraculous happened. God showed up.
Ok - so maybe he didn't show up, maybe He had always been there, I was just stupid and blind and wasn't really paying attention. Maybe the colors which I painted were really like neon disgusting and the fumes from the paint were causing me to have like strange hallucinations which caused me not to see God the entire time. See, God did this amazing thing and took me by the hand and started to show me that all those silly images I had painted on the walls of my life were pointless...I didn't need to worry about being a certain thing or a certain person. God showed me something beautiful, and that beautiful thing is that I am HIS.
And that's where all of this figuring out started. God took me by the hand, and instead of painting on my walls, God stripped off the wall-paper and the paint which I had plastered onto myself and washed my walls clean. Then, he pointed out the beauty of the wood-work instead. He showed me how beautiful the natural coloring was, and that the grain was simply perfect, exactly as it was intended to be created. He showed me the beauty of my walls in only the way the architect of those walls could. Soon, slowely and painfully I began to discover who I was. Who God created me to be, rather, and then after that, after it became extremely clear that God was in control, I began to fall in love with that person - the person who God MADE, who God CREATED, and who God loves.

So the other day, I went to the gym, and I ran a little on the track and biked on exercise bike. Then afterwards, while I was stretching, I turned and saw this girl on one of the machines. She looked like she was probably a little younger than me, but she was thin. She was really thin, and she was beautiful and tall. She looked like a model, and walking out to my car the only thing that I could think was that I was never ever going to look like that girl. No matter how many calories I didn't consume, no matter how many miles I ran or crunches I did, or anything, I was never going to be able to look like her. I spent the rest of the night thinking about how I wish my thighs weren't as large, and my calves more defined. I wished that my stomach were flatter and my hips smaller. I wanted to be taller. I wanted to be a completely different person who I was never going to be.

And then today, I went to work, and all of the kids were playing outside. I decided to quickly run down to this restaurant right next door to grab some lunch and then run back. Walking back, I was in clear vision of the playground on which the kids in my class were playing. One of the kids spotted me, then screamed at the top of her lungs "HI MS. AUBREE!!!!" I went to wave, but before I could even get my arm up high enough for them to see me do it, I began to hear the chorus resound. "HEY!!! MS. AUBREE!!!", "LOOK! MS. AUBREE IS BACK!" "MS. AUBREE! MS. AUBREE! HI!!!".
And I realized in that moment exactly what I had failed to realize through all of highschool, and the other night at the gym. I realized that the only person in the world that I wanted to be was "Ms. Aubree". The only person I want to be is me. It's not my friends from high school. It's not someone who may or may not be more desirable to the person I may be crushing on at that current time. It isn't that girl I saw at the gym, or any girl I ever see in the halls at school, or on TV or anywhere else.
It's me. The only person I want to be is me. And yes. Sometimes I'm kind of obnoxious and I laugh at silly things, including myself, but I happen to think that's a good thing since I'd rather laugh than cry, and a life spent in laughter is better than a life spent not. It's true that I'm not a genius. I get good grades in school, but I normally work my butt off for them. Yeah, my thighs touch in the middle when I stand up, and sometimes when I eat a lot or am wearing particularly tight pants my stomach sticks out. I also have a teeny bit of cellulite (GASP!) and get a zit now and then, but that's who I am, and that's ok, and if my goal in life is to find someone who loves me for only the ways that I'm perfect, then I think I should re-assess those goals since if I succeed, I will find that I'm extremely miserable one day.

AND SO

I've concluded that life is too short to count every morsel of food that enters your mouth, to abide only by lists, and follow only schedules. Life is too short to walk around with your nose stuck in a rule book, or devising your next strategic move. God invented these amazing things called smiles and laughter. He created eyes to see and ears to hear, and so I propose that we use them. I propose that we smile more and laugh louder. I propose that laughs never be stifled, in fact, and always be allowed. Mainly, I propose that we become more concerned with how we live than how we die, because how we die is not going to be what we're remembered for, it's how we live that will get people talking.
In conclusion, I'd suggest that you let God show you exactly how beautiful your woodwork is, without the paint, without the wallpaper or stain, just exactly as is. I think you will be delightfully surprised.