The elderly have it made

So the other day while I was driving home I saw something wonderful. That something wonderful was an old woman wearing a flannel pajama set taking a stroll with her walker. I like to dress cute…for about 3 hours. The other 21 hours I would much rather be comfortable, and for me typically comfortable means I look ridiculous or as my mom likes to call those incidents “quirky” (thanks mom). I do manage to contain the quirk (for the most part) to my house. The times I have tried to look smashing I’ve been stopped (thanks mom and Christina). I still have dreams of the day I can strut my attire of choice and not give two cents about what anyone thinks. I already have a flannel pajama set so I’m one step closer to living the dream. This brave old woman not only remind me to reach for the stars by looking awesome but she also reminded me of all the other benefits of being over the hill take 2.  
1. I already said this but I feel like it needs to be on the official list it’s that important: You can wear whatever your little heart desires. Whether it’s a Worlds best Grandma/pa sweatshirt or flannel pajamas the world is your oyster so dream big.
2. There will be so many check marks on your bucket list. Oh the adventures you will have even Peter Pan will be jealous. Which brings me to my next point.
3. You will have so many stories to babble on and on about and people will listen because you’re old and they think you have wisdom or they feel sorry for you, either way.
4. You’ll have a growing old home. After all the adventures and moving about from place to place you’ll be old enough at last to just kick it in your sweet rocking chair, throw back a couple of butterscotch candies (because it's finally acceptable to eat those) and enjoy the calm bliss.
5. Senior discounts. ‘Nough said.
I could go on and on about the splendidness of being advanced in age but I’ll just leave it at that for now. 


I’m one of those crazy people that actually like to push myself passed what I thought I was capable of. Running does that for me. There’s plenty of pain, joy, pushing, and moments of triumph. But there are also moments that make me never want to move my legs faster than a walking pace for as long as I live. Like Sunday night for instance:
I’m not really sure what I was thinking when I decided to add a half iron man and a marathon to my birthday bucket list and then actually follow through. I think I must have had a stroke….or been possessed…maybe both? Anyway, Sunday night was the big 13.1 mile run. I felt good about it, well rested…because I hadn’t done anything in 6 days (I wasn't feeling good sheesh). It was a night run, so I didn’t need to worry about that awful round object in the sky called "sun". I did need to worry about my mental state as I ran in circles and creepers galore. All was fine and dandy for a while. No creepers lingering and there was plenty of entertainment. At one point I may or may not have been singing out-loud and dance-running to Usher's "Yeah".  Like I said, fine and dandy. Then I hit that 11 mile mark. Everything from my hips up felt great. I was breathing normal, mentally I knew I was capable of running a measly two more miles but everything below my hips, you know those two limbs that were actually moving the rest of me and doing a lot of the work, those bad boys were dying. I pride myself on being tough with a high pain tolerance so take me seriously when I say I have never experienced that much pain while running. When that magic number finally appeared on my Garmin and I was allowed to stop I was overjoyed. Not just because I was able to stop, but also because my legs didn’t disincarnate into dust and blow away with the perfectly cool fall breeze. 13.1 miles, intense pain, and no disincarnation. Talk about a good night ya'll. 
The next day I could barely walk down the stairs due to my new old lady knees and hip. I’m assuming my legs felt like barely-moving-corpse-legs because I don’t move them enough during the day. (Schoolwork typically requires you sitting on your bum.) Since the rise of the dead I’ve iced my knees and been stretching. I’m not in pain anymore but I’m still incredibly tight. That triathlon business is a mere 12 days away and I am most certainly nauseous just thinking about it. So, if you’re a runner and have any suggestions/explanations/tips, please feel free to spill your knowledgeable guts. 

Happy Monday

Drinking Gatorade. And lots of it.

Eating dinner at 5. I’m telling you guys I’m secretly a really old person.

Watching The Middle. If you haven’t seen it you’re missing out.  

Laughing way to hard at this video

Waiting for some holiday goodness to get here already.

Wondering if it’s OK to purposefully bump into a couple that decided the perfect time and place to suck face would be in the middle of the sidewalk after they had clearly seen you running in their general direction. (Don’t worry I didn’t do it. And I even waited until I ran passed them before rolling my eyes. My kindness can sometimes even overwhelm me.)

Sleeping a whole lot. Napping everyday. It’s kind of wonderful. Also kind of a time waster and I don't have much of that to spare but sometimes you have to make sacrifices for the things you love. 

Reading boring schoolbooks. No matter where you are in the world I can gureentee you will hear my screams of delight when this torture is over forever.

Feeling like an 80 year old woman. My knees and hip have never hurt so bad.

Loving this. Worth the 31 minutes and 17 seconds. Pinkie promise. (And you know I'm serious about those.)

Listening to Christmas music while I sleep….and study….and run. Don’t judge me.

Enjoying the one on one time with the mother. Who knew being a pretend only child could be so lovely.

Acknowledging that a sweet baby boy falling asleep on my chest is going to be the best part of my week. And I am more then OK with that.

Committing to not writing another one of these currently post until I've written at least five normal posts with paragraphs and everything. 

3 months later

It’s hard to believe that I’ve been back in the states for 3 months now. Sometime it feels like just yesterday I was drinking Phunda tea and making popcorn in our outdoor kitchen laughing with those crazy girls. I miss it. I miss Tarason’s sweet contagious smile. I miss watching movies with Ange and hearing her reactions. I miss Fanny and her love of chocolate and pizza. I miss deep-talking/complaining with Tara and Alison. I miss Benoit’s big hugs. I miss riding motos. I miss the mountains. I miss listening to the rain falling on our tin roof. I miss the simplicity.
Despite the fact that I miss a beautiful country filled with even more beautiful people I feel at peace. I know that I am exactly where God wants me. Why? Well God hasn’t revealed that just yet. I have ideas. I have hopes. But nothing is for certain. I have learned that God reveals all things in perfect timing. So while I wait I will continue laying my life down everyday asking Him to use me right where I am at. I will rest in His all-knowing arms and remain content that He still has great plans for me. And I will continue to be forever thankful for the time I had in Rwanda. 

 Told you it was contagious