The Eye of the Beholder

I remember reading Worthless Women and the Men Who Make Them and thinking how fortunate I am to have the man I do.  He's a good man.  He works hard, he's trustworthy, he's loving.  These are all fantastic qualities that I do not take for granted.  But there is something else that sets him apart.  He makes me feel beautiful.

I once wrote about the opposite - how I had been made to feel ugly as a kid.  In that post I mentioned the first time I remember being told I was beautiful.  It's a powerful statement to hear.  There's something about it that goes deep.  It goes beyond "cute," "pretty" or even "hot."  It is the heart-longing of every woman to be found beautiful.

Darryl has spoken these words to me often.  When I'm all done up to go out.  When we are just sitting and relaxing.  When he has seen me first thing in the morning, in all my bedhead glory.  "Wow.  You're so beautiful."  Every time, his words astound me.  Some times more than others, naturally.  I'll be honest - when he I've just come in from a 2-hr. run, the words make me chuckle.  Not because I question his sincerity, but because they seem out of place, which I suppose makes me believe him all the more.

Society bombards us with their own idea of beauty.  All you have to do is stand in line at the grocery store to catch a glimpse of this.  So many women feel worthless.  Un-beautiful.  So many men gaze at these "beautiful" women, wishing that's what they had.  You know what's simply awesome?  I know for a fact that the current "most beautiful woman in the world" could walk into the room, and she wouldn't warrant more than a glance from Darryl.  She could stand right beside me, she could be completely naked, and his gaze would be locked in mine.  And he would say, "You're the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."  It blows me away.  I hope that never changes.  I have no reason to believe that it will.  Not because of who I am, but because of who he is.

Every time Darryl speaks these words, I believe him a little bit more.  Not so much that I am generically beautiful, but rather that when he looks at me, he sees beauty.  Others may disagree with him - that's fine.  In fact, they should.  They should be enamoured with the beauty of their own love, if they have been granted such.  I hope my life leads others to see beauty in it, but beyond that I do not have need.  I only desire that from one person.

Yes, I am truly fortunate to have what I do, but I am not the only one.  I have seen other men look upon their wives with such adoration that it cannot go unnoticed.  He looks and sees beauty.  She feels it and gives it.  These looks speak more loudly about real love than any words ever could.  What a gift to be able to share this with others.  To be able to speak, without words, the true essence of love.

Each one of us is beautiful, for that is how we are made.

I feel beautiful.  And his words speak more beauty into my life.

Running Au Naturel

I have been absent from here for a really long time.  I was waiting to finish writing about our trip to Tucson, but that seems a little silly at this point.  I had even written some of it up, but I'm not sure what the point of posting it would be now.  So, I'm moving on.

A few weeks ago I attended a MovementU clinic put on by Jessi Stensland.  She talked about a lot of running technique stuff that just made sense.  I won't say that she necessarily encouraged trying barefoot running, but mentioned it briefly.  What she did talk about was the tribe that was studied for the book "Born to Run."  They can run hundreds of miles.  And enjoy it.  And they don't get injured.  Oh, did I mention that they run barefoot in the Mexican mountains?

I was at the point where I needed new runners anyway, and to be honest, running in runners was driving me nuts after the stride changes I had made after Jessi's clinic.  I had researched the various shoes quite a bit, and one thing caught my attention.  In all the reviews I had read (and I read a lot), not one had said that they tried barefoot running and couldn't do it.  Rather I read things like, "My chronic injuries disappeared" and "These are the only shoes I run in now."  Not a single complaint.  How strange.

I thought I may as well at least look into barefoot running shoes.  You may be asking, "Barefoot running shoes?  How the heck can you call it barefoot running if you're wearing shoes?"  These "shoes" are basically protection from the running surface.  That's it.  They allow the muscles to do the cushioning while protecting your feet from sharp rocks, glass, etc.  Kind of like strapping a piece of leather to your foot like many of the running tribes to, except with a little more technology.

After doing my research, I walked into MEC to try a pair.  I slipped on a pair of Vibram Treksports and stood up.  It was truly a transforming experience.  I just felt that this is what shoes should feel like.  Amazing.  I didn't walk out with a pair - I wasn't convinced I was trying the right size and they didn't have a smaller size in the store.  Instead I went online and ordered 8 different pairs of shoes from MEC - free shipping until April 20th - so I could try on what I needed and bring the ones I didn't want back.  My shoes came in on Friday, and I was very excited to try a pair out this morning.

Now these shoes don't provide any cushioning so they recommend that you break them in slowly.  You use muscles in an entirely new way, and you as for any other type of training, you need to increase slowly.  My plan was to go out for about 10 minutes in my Vibrams, and then finish my run in my regular runners.

My Vibram Spints

My first steps were almost like a dream.  Running felt so good.  Truly.  I enjoyed every step, and for those who know me, I'm not really a runner.  After about 5 minutes and a missed turn, I decided to try a little experiment.  I would run the same distance as last week (15.5 km) and see how I felt at the end.  From what I had read, I expected that my calves would get very sore from the added usage.  I was just curious as to what else might hurt after that distance.

I had a fantastic run.  I saw a couple of geese just sitting on the Bishop Grandin Greenway.  They were so close I could have almost touched them as I ran by.  I have heard stories about killer geese.  Either these ones were particularly tame, or those stories are just urban myths.

By around 8km, my calves were starting to get tired.  My solei to be precise.  Everything else, however, felt amazing.

Somewhere in my 11th km, Daniele called me on my cell.  As I was talking to her, I wasn't paying very close attention to where I was running.  Suddenly, I felt myself slip a little.  Ice.  Normally, this would shoot all kinds of adrenaline through my body and thoughts of falling would enter my mind.  This was different though.  Not only do the soles of these shoes have incredible grip, it was like I could feel the ice through them.  I felt completely connected to the ground.

I won't lie.  The last few kilometers were tough.  My solei and feet were tired from hitting the pavement (running on grass alleviated most of the discomfort).  The amazing thing though was that there was no pain.  Not in my knees.  Not in my back.  Nothing.  Other than my overworked muscles, my body felt better than it ever had after a run.

So far, I'm sold.  And you know what?  It makes sense.  After all, human beings have walked and ran for thousands of years with nothing more than a layer of leather or some other material to protect against the elements.  No cushioning.  No heel elevation.  They relied on the muscles to protect the joints.  I don't care where you stand on the creation/evolution debate - we are designed in such a way that this natural cushioning is there.  Weak muscles cause injury.  Weak core - bad back.  My knees were bad until I started running.  (I also initially did some weight training to strengthen the muscles around my knees.)  They don't bother me anymore.  Running shoes do not allow our foot and calf muscles to function they way they are made to work, so why do we wear them?  Because at some point within the last half century or so, someone decided that they would be a good idea.

I'm not going to tell you all that you should go and throw out your runners.  I'm just saying that I truly believe that this is going to work for me.  But I would challenge any of you to give the barefoot runners a shot.  And hey, if it doesn't work for you, at least I can say I heard someone say that they tried and just couldn't run without traditional runners.  As for me, I'm going to enjoy running for a change.

Day #1...continued...

I left you with a bike that wasn’t working in East Saguaro National Park.  When we got back, Chris dropped us off at the hotel so we could shower before going out for supper, and then dropped my bike off at the shop.  Darryl was back after a ride out at East Saguaro, followed by a run.  That man will be a triathlete yet.  ;)  Once I was ready, we went down and met Chris, Rhonda and Naomi to meet Jacquie at El Charro.  If you are in Tucson, go, by the way.  Fantastic food.

“What did they say about my bike?”

“Doesn’t look good...”

Ugh.  I walked into the shop (well, almost ran, actually), and mentioned that they were looking at my bike in the back and I needed to talk to them.

“Go right in.”

“Well, we’ll have to replace the chain.”

“If it’s only the chain, that’s fantastic,” I chirped as I rounded the corner to a couple of blank stares.  “Hi.  That’s my bike.”

They explained that one of the links was about to explode, they suspected as a result of an unusually short chain stay.  They got “lucky” when they stopped spinning the chain, and happened to stop it exactly where they could see the breaking link.  They were not even remotely surprised that it hadn’t been noticed at the shop.  They told me they would fix it that night and I could pick it up at nine the next morning.  Perfect.  Mt. Lemmon ride was scheduled to leave at 10:30.

As a bit of an aside, I don’t believe there was any luck here at all.  I could have chosen to not ride East Saguaro that day.  The chain could have held out for one more ride.  They could have completely missed the faulty link by stopping it at any other point.  I would not have ridden Mt. Lemmon the following day.  Nope.  I don’t think there was luck at all.  It was simply meant to be.  Don’t know exactly why, but I think God wanted me to ride.  Or maybe He just knew how much I wanted to climb it again and figured He’d show me He’s in charge.  Again.  :)

Other parts of day #1:  Delicious supper.  Great talk by Lincoln on Cat and Dog Theology.  Meeting the Whitmore-Cardenas twins, who are absolutely adorable, by the way.  A little visiting.  Bed.

The twins.  Aren't they the cutest?
(I stole this pic, too - thanks Susie!)

The Beginning of Our Travels

It was the end of January - time for my yearly trek down to Arizona to attend International Christian Triathlon Network’s training camp.  This year was ICTN’s 6th training camp, and it was my 5th time going.  Since I’ve already dragged Darryl onto my triathlon team, it only seemed natural to invite him to join me.  Plus, it would be time away with my man.  Doesn’t get much better than that.

At first, we intended to fly, likely out of Grand Forks.  Then after much humming and hawing, we decided it might just be simplest to put our relationship to the ultimate test...

Road Trip

Stone magnets are fun. 

Darryl arrived at my place around 4am on Wednesday morning. (Definitely Darryl’s choice, and since he was driving, I wasn’t about to complain about it.)  We had already loaded the bikes the night before, so we threw my luggage in and off we went. 

Darryl and the Texas state trooper that let him off with a warning.  Note that she's still ready to draw...

Other than fog through most of South Dakota and learning about paying tolls on Oklahoma toll roads, the trip down was fairly uneventful.  Well, there was the time that Darryl got pulled over by a state trooper in Texas.  That was fun.  :)  But even the border crossing guard was friendly.  Just the typical questions like, “What’s the purpose of your trip?”  “What is your relationship?” and “What is your favourite part of the triathlon?” (Of course, this didn’t surprise me much - the American ones are generally quite amicable.  I won’t speak for our Canadian counterparts.)  

American town names fascinate me.

ICTN Camp, Day #1, Friday, January 28

Justin displaying his Canadian pride.
That's Bob and I singing in the background.
(Photo credit to Susie Degan.)

For the first time in its history, camp opened as it always should have - with a resounding, albeit off-tune at times, rendition of Oh Canada, led by diehard American Bob Brubaker and yours truly.  I was amazed at how many joined in, surprised by how many actually knew at least some of the words, and warmed by the sight of Justin Birks, one of the camp’s newest Canadians (along with Darryl - the two of them doubled the representation from last year) standing, hand on his heart, singing along.  Oh that all Canadians had this kind of pride in our country.  

I feel I should share the background story to this event.  Last year, whenever Bob spotted Rhonda or myself, he would sing, at the top of his lungs, “OH CANADA!”  When I asked if he could sing the rest, he could manage the second line, but that was it.  So, on the last day of camp, I wrote out the words for him and told him that I expected him to learn it so we could open camp together the following year.  I had heard that he had not, in fact, followed through, so when I saw him just prior to camp starting at 8am, I walked up to harass him about it.  

“Bob!  I hear you didn’t learn the words to Oh Canada.  I’m disappointed.”

“Terri!  Just wait...” as he ruffled through his papers.  “Here!  I have it!”  And sure enough, there was the paper I had given him last year.  And so we stood there and declared camp open with my national anthem.  What a great experience.

Bob was the first pastor speaker, and as always, challenged us.  Bob’s own story is fantastic, and he approaches life with such vigor it is contagious.  

After Bob was done, we went off into our session of choice.  I listened to Brad Seng and John Shelp talk about practical swim training, mostly because it is the area I have the least confidence in talking to others about, and I know that it is the area people are most nervous about.  Darryl, on the other hand, went to learn about strength training from Kevin Paladino.  Kevin masochistically had his session attendees perform 150 push-ups.  In a row.  Well, kind of.  Push-up to failure, and then a 50m run, then push-ups to failure, 50m run, push-ups to failure...well, you get the picture.  To 150 push-ups.  Apparently Darryl and Troy Soares suffered through side-by-side.  Neither could raise their arms the next day.

For session #2, Darryl and I both attended Brandon Nichol’s nutrition talk.  I even managed to learn something there.  Yay!

After lunch, it was workout time.  I decided to swim, and then do a quick bike out at East Saguaro National Park.  After dealing with logistic issues at the pool (they don’t circle swim, only allow a maximum of two people per lane, and every lane had 1-2 people in already - thankfully a couple of them moved out and let us have the lanes), I got some stroke analysis from J.R. Rosania, then did a quick 10 x 100 set, which unfortunately was all we had time for.

We got back, and since Chris and Naomi (Rhonda’s hubby and daughter) were planning on driving to the park anyway, Rhonda and I decided to load our bikes in their vehicle and just do a quick lap there.  I misunderstood the directions I had been given, so getting out there took a little longer than expected - thank goodness for GPS.  We got there, unloaded, and took off, Rhonda first.  No big deal.  Catching her wouldn’t be a problem.  So I thought.

Then I encountered the first decent climb.  As soon as I put pressure in my pedals, the chain popped off the chain ring.  I hopped off my bike and pulled to the side.  The chain was completely jammed between the ring and the frame.  After about 10 minutes of fighting with the chain, and giving up 2 or 3 times, I finally got it unjammed and back on the ring.  Back on the road.  Down the hill.  Up the hill.  Chain off the ring.  Words I will not repeat.  Chris finally caught up to me with the vehicle.  I told him what was going on, and tried one more time.  No go.  One of my favourite rides done before it started.  

Needless to say I was not impressed, especially because I had taken my bike into the shop twice since the end of July because there was something wrong.  Kevin Miller had suggested a chain issue last summer because of what I was experiencing, but we couldn’t find it, and neither could my bike shop boys.  Now I had no choice other than to bring it into the shop by the hotel and hope they could fix it before Mt. Lemmon the next morning...

To Be Continued...

Making Great Things Even Better

Darryl has commented on a couple of occasions on how loved I am, that I have an abundant community of support, and that I am very fortunate.  It's so true, and today that was demonstrated once again.


Last night Darryl asked me to marry him, and put a ring on my finger to confirm the love that he has for me.  (Of course, as soon as I had told a few core family members, I took a picture of it and put it up on Facebook.)  As anyone who has become engaged to the love of their life knows, I was floating on clouds.  So very, very happy.  Completely full.  


That sense of complete joy has become even more complete, though, as I have read the well-wishes of friends and family.  People who truly wish the best for me.  People from many areas of my life - high school (even some I rarely, if ever, talked to back then), college, camp, triathlon, university, church...  Even my former in-laws.  (Even my ex-husband, for that matter.)  Not all these people are invested in my daily life, but I sensed a genuine happiness behind each "congratulations."  Knowing I have this support behind me is just phenomenal.  One of my friends even sent me a message saying that he was blessed and filled with hope because of my engagement.  How could this be?  


Darryl writes me daily "blurbs" - little insights into life.  (Just another thing that makes him so amazing.)  One day, he wrote this about sharing the joy of others:


"This has to be a unique aspect to being human. There is no reason why any of us should be happy about what another person has. We really gain no benefit, do we?   What we gain is something we might not otherwise have, even if we begged for it. We can be happy. We can enjoy seeing the smile on another's face. We can find joy and contentment in seeing others being joyful and contented."


All these people chose to be happy about this new joy in my life, and in doing so, increased my own happiness.  A wonderful circle.


People often comment on how they don't know how I do all the things that I do.  It's simple.  It's because of them.  It's because of the support that I get from so many.  The help with child care.  The understanding when something isn't done on time.  The unexpected cash in the mail.  Driving my kids places they need to be.  Spiritual support through daily prayers.  Emotional support when the days are tough.  The quick Facebook message that says, "Hey, I just wanted to say that you inspire me."  And now, the heartfelt congratulations.  Chances are, if you are reading this right now, you have helped to make my life (and the life of my family) the wonderful one it is today, and for this, I thank you.  You may not have thought much of it, but I did.


There are so many people who go through life without this kind of support system in place.  I don't know how they do it.  Many times they don't.  They just can't make it.  I don't know why I have been deemed one of the fortunate ones who has the friends and family to stand behind me, but I certainly am grateful for it.

Whatever Happened to Shepard Scott?

When I was in junior high (I believe it was grade 6), a new student arrived in the middle of the year.  He had been placed in a local foster home, and was now attending our school.  He was, I suppose, a “typical” foster kid in many ways.  He struggled to fit in.  He cracked jokes in class.  (He didn’t do well in class either.)  He tried to make people laugh, and by doing so, like him.  But he had few friends.  I don’t even know offhand whom he could have truly called a friend.

Somehow, something about him struck me.  I never disliked him.  I didn’t make fun of him.  I didn’t really befriend him either.  I was simply polite.  But I could see that deep down, he was a good kid who just wanted to fit in.  

Having come from the “big city” (if I recall correctly, it was Brandon), he used the “new” catch phrases before others in our small town had heard them.  Things like “Shut up!” and “As if.”  They caught on as they did elsewhere, I suppose.  Even though we learned them from him, however, it still didn’t earn him any acceptance.

Then suddenly one day, he was gone.  Moved to another foster home.  I believe I heard that it was in Brandon again.  I don’t think any of us heard from or of him again.  He crosses my mind often, as he did today.  As I read about kids that had gone through foster care, being bounced from one (often dysfunctional) home to the next, I thought of Shepard.  The stories of these children, now adults, struck a chord with me.  I can’t imagine lacking the stability of a home - not knowing how long you would be there, or where you were going next.  Interestingly, children who were raised in an orphanage were reported to have fared better than those raised in foster homes.  Perhaps it was because they found their belonging there.

I’ve tried to locate Shepard a couple of times, but to no avail.  What happened to him?  Did he ever find “his place”?  Was there ever a time when he knew that for once, he belonged?  Was he resilient enough to make it through?  

I will likely never know.  But I do know this - as a teacher I will come across other Shepard Scotts.  They may drift in and out of my life as he did, but for the brief time that I encounter them, I have to do what I can to help them belong.  It may not be life-changing for any of them, but hopefully, somewhere down the line, they will look back and know that someone cared.  And maybe, just maybe, that will make the difference.

What I Meant to do...

...was write some sort of reflection on last year.  And I meant to do it last year.  And then I thought I would do it on New Year's Day.  My birthday seemed like an appropriate day.  But it just didn't happen.  And the full reflection won't.  I simply have other things to do.  Not better, necessarily, but more pressing.  Like finish my last four months of schooling.  Prepare for applying for jobs.  Apply for jobs.  Coach.  Train.  Raise kids.  Prepare for other upcoming events.

But I will say this.  Last year was amazing.  If you had told me I would be where I am today, actually, I probably would have believed you.  I wasn't expecting it though.  And I'm glad I didn't know where my life was going.  I know, however, that God spoke to me clearly at the end of 2009 and let me know that in no uncertain terms could He give me the things that I wanted if I continued in the direction I was going.  I had two choices: 1) Continue in the direction I was going and continue living an unfulfilled life, or 2) Change directions and live life to the full.  I chose the latter, because it just seemed obvious.  I didn't know whether I would get what I wanted in 2010.  I didn't know if I would get it ever.  But it was still clearly the better choice.  Oh, what did I want?  Simply to share my life with someone who was crazy about me and truly wanted to do life with me, not just hang out once in awhile.  I wanted to share my life with another.  I had so much "joie de vivre" inside me wanting to escape, with no one to intimately share it with.

And you know what?  I got it.  And it's amazing.

Here's to 2011!