So what?

~I'm not a multi-millionaire or a trophy wife.
~I haven't won an Ironman or a Nobel prize.
~I can't do multi-level regression equations in my head and I don't know the first twenty integers of Pi.

So What?

~I have a beautiful daughter who brings joy to my world.
~I have wonderful friends who are the very definition of family, fullness and faith.
~I have windswept Summer Solstice nights in the park with ducks, bread crumbs, giggles, squeals and shrieks.

I have everything I need.

Just me

Photo by the fantabulous Jenica

In the last year and a half, I've had the opportunity to date a lot of men. A lot.

Nice guys. Not-so-nice guys. Weird guys. Funny guys. Hot guys. Sweet guys. Athletic guys. Smart guys. Guys who have become, and will always remain, cherished friends. Guys who I hope to never see again. Guys I still talk to several times on a daily basis. Guys who call from random parts of the world on off hours after not hearing from them for months. Guys who are, or will be, incredible fathers. Guys who should probably be tied down with fishing line and sterilized for the good of mankind. Guys who make me feel safe and secure and feminine. Guys who bring out the outspoken, aggressive, sexy side of me. Guys who are just starting to figure out who they are. Guys who are solid and stable and healthy.

Many, many men. Quite frankly, it's been exhausting, but DAMN! has it been fun!

And now, it's time for a break.

So, for the summer of 2009, from Memorial Day to Labor Day, I am calling a moratorium on my dating life. No men. No dates. Originally, I thought I'd put the ix-nay on flirting, but, that's taking it a little far for me. I love to flirt and I can't quite bring myself to cut that out entirely. So that stays in the mix, innocently and casually, but the rest of it is officially on vacation.

So...if i've had so much fun and met so many incredibly people, why am I doing this?

At the heart of this decision is my word of the year, "balance". There are certain things I can't call a moratorium on. I must work because I very much enjoy not being homeless and the state will take away my daughter if I call a moratorium on my parental duties. Dating takes up A LOT of time and energy and I feel that these resources could be spent in better ways this summer.

I guess, when it comes right down to it, my soul is calling out for some of it's own time. I need some spend some time doing those things that fill up the well, so to speak, so I can keep giving to those I love. This summer is about the things that make me feel good: time with my daughter, family and friends, chasing good health by biking, running, swimming, yoga, eating well, spending time outdoors, hiking, playing with my kiddo in the parks, counting stars, writing, reading, talking and laughing.

This summer is about me. Just me. My saturday nights might be spent at the gym, and my sexy pedi's may only be appreciated by my girlfriends and my baby girl (who's loving her own pedi's these days). And i'm completely fine with all of this, because I'm the only one I have to live with forever. And right now, i'm ok with it being: Just Me.

June is:

Are you all reading Lindsey's blog? If you aren't, you should be. She's fun and insightful. So, after you read this post, go there and spend some time. It's worth it.

Lindsey inspired me to think about what June is for me. So, without further ado....

June is:

*Pedicures and toe rings. Bright pink for the toenail polish, delicate flower decals and a sexy toe-ring to top it off. Toe rings are lingerie for the feet. And you all know how I feel about pretty underwear...essential.

*Rainy mornings with whole-grain pancakes and strawberries from the farmer's market.

*Long bike rides and completing my first Century ride.

*Jeans, tank tops and flip flops. If one can wear this combination comfortably, the weather is perfect.

*Outdoor concerts at fabulous venues, like this and this...accompanied by good food, yummy drinks and fabulous friends, of course.

*Weekends in Bear Lake, celebrating summer with those who know me best (and still love me - wink).

*After dinner walks around the Avenues, reveling in the charm of old homes, crooked sidewalks and gorgeous roses that are at their peak right now.

*A new tricycle for the little one. And her own bike helmet, adorned with lady bugs.

*Lots of writing, in preparation for a few big deadlines.

*The Salt Lake City Arts Festival, one of my favorite, most anticipated events of the summer.

*Brides tromping all over the city, dressed in full wedding regalia. This is a side-effect (sometimes enjoyed, sometimes detested) of living so close to Temple Square in SLC.

*Summer night on the rooftop deck, watching the city lights, counting stars and basically feeling lucky to live the life I have been given.

So, what's June for you?

Box of Darkness

Someone I loved once gave me
a box full of darkness.
It took me years to understand
that this, too, was a gift.

Mary Oliver, Thirst


Have you ever been scared? Not alarmed by a sudden noise or afraid that the monster your older brother told you lived in the vacuum really might exist, but really, truly scared? The kind of scared that is in-your-bones, absolutely all you can possibly think about, “I’m not sure I’m going to make it out of this” kind of scared?

I have.

I recently was tasked to write a piece on the time I was the most scared and how it changed me. In reading the work of others who were given the same assignment, I was struck by the variety of terrors that people endure. One person wrote about being in a combat situation, one wrote about finding her father in the throws of cardiac arrest. A good friend of mine wrote about her absolute horror of finding out she was being transferred to KANSAS (this is a Manhattan girl, mind you) and another wrote about a car wreck that left her a paraplegic. I wrote about the first night I brought my daughter home from the hospital. I was alone, three days post C-section, not able to take pain meds because I was the only one there to care for a three day old, the power was out for the entire night, and it had become abundantly clear that this “situation” I was in was not going to work. My faithful readers will likely read this essay in more detail elsewhere in the near future (**fingers crossed**) but as I sat alone, heart aching, whole body trembling because of the physical pain, sitting by candlelight, trying to figure out how to nurse a child who refused to eat, not able to call anyone because my phone hadn’t charged for days, I realized that I was scared out of my mind. The kind of bone-deep, in your face “I’m terrified” scared I had never experienced before.

I didn’t like it. At all.

Since that time, I’ve had the opportunity to make a lot of changes in my life. One of the blessings of my divorce is that I am able to live my life entirely on my own terms. I’ve spent a lot of time really thinking through how I want to live and how I want to raise my child. I redefined my priorities. I set boundaries. I defined my goals and I found ways to start working towards them, despite the never-ending cycle of dishes and laundry and workdays. Throughout this whole process, the one tenet that keeps coming up, over and over and over again, is that I don’t want to be afraid of living a full and complete life, even if that means falling down, or getting hurt, or feeling rejected. I don’t want to be scared of new things and new experiences, and more importantly, I don’t want to teach Riley to be scared of them. I want her to embrace new things and new ideas and new people with open arms. I want her to see me reaching out and dancing with all that life offers me. I want to show up for my life.

Writing the aforementioned essay made me really think about the times I’ve tackled things that have scared me, and a pattern began to emerge. When I’ve done something that scared me, pushed myself even though I wasn’t sure I’d make it, or have taken a deep breath and jumped into the unknown…spectacular things have happened. When I've found the courage to keep going on, despite being frightened, I'm rewarded with something that makes up for the terror.

So, here’s to being scared and doing it anyway. Here’s to taking a deep breath, closing your eyes, and pushing through. Here’s to speaking your truth, out loud, everyday. Here’s to loving completely, openly and honestly. Here’s to being yourself, accepting yourself, and being ok with who you are. Here’s to embracing the nights that scare you, the days that haunt you, learning from them, and setting them aside.

Here’s to the box of darkness that someone gives you, or maybe you give yourself. Here’s to remembering that it, too, is a gift.

Why I Ride

Somewhere between the Airport and the Marina


I pulled my jeep into one of my usual parking spots. I'm heading out on one of my favorite rides - Airport to Marina. There are a lot of reasons I like this ride; the starting point is close to my house, it's open and flat, so I can work on sprints and increasing my speed, and the scenery changes all along the way.

"Just heading out?" the man in the car next to me asks, watching me pull on my gloves and tighten my helmet.

"Yep" I reply, hoping he'll take the hint. I don't want to talk to him. I want to ride.

"Looks like rain" he warns, eyeing the ominous clouds and looking at me like I might be a little nuts.

"Yep" I reply, checking my brakes and tires one more time.

"Why are you doing this?" He finally asks me. And then the inevitable comment, the one I knew he was waiting to throw out. "It's Saturday evening. You're a pretty girl..." He lets it trail off and waits expectantly, like I am going to put my bike back on the rack and reconsider my evening plans after his observations.

"Yep," I reply. I clip in and I take off. Thanks for your opinion, buddy, but it's my time.

As I start off on my planned 32 mile ride, his words are echoing in my head. "Why are you doing this?" Why am I doing this? After about half a mile, I start to apply some speed. I feel my muscles start to get warm, my quads start to burn. Ah, I love that feeling. The feeling that they have been worked and worked hard not too long ago, but they're ready for what I'm going to throw at them. My breath starts to come harder and faster, my lungs begin to settle into steady breathing. My body is already responding to the challenge. I think to myself "oh yeah. This is why i'm doing this."

I like riding through the airport. It reminds me of my time in the Air Force. The aircraft and the flightlines and the control tower are symbols of a time that meant a lot to me, that taught me many lessons. I let my mind run over the places, the people, and the experiences I was lucky enough to gain through my military service as I push myself through this area. As I ride, I think of some friends I have who are now serving in Iraq, one in particular. He's a biker, too. I send good vibes to him and to all those serving as I pedal through an underground tunnel. "Aaron, when you get back, we are riding this path together" I tell him this, out loud. This gets some weird looks from the guy who just passed me, but I don't care. (And Aaron, we WILL ride together soon.)

My body and my bike respond together as the miles tick off on my monitor, and the airport gives way to a business park. This is my least favorite part of the ride, but it's not too bad. I like the streetnames. Amelia Earheart Drive. Charles Lindenbergh Way. There is a ford Mustang that is always parked in front of the Shell station with a vanity plate that says "heybabe". I don't know why, but this always makes me smile. The gas station attendant always waves at me. This makes me smile, too.

The business park gives way to a frontage road that borders i-80. I love this part of the ride. I am working on my speed, so I do some sprint drills. From sign to sign, I sprint, then I slow down. I sprint, then I slow down. I do this for about 3 miles and this leaves my legs burning, my chest heaving, but still, I feel good. I feel alive and I take this time to marvel at the amazing creation that our physical selves are. I can run, I can jump, I can bike, I can dance. My body has grown a child. I think about these things and I think again "oh yeah, that's why I ride".

By now, I'm moving quickly, trying to keep the speed up as I race along the frontage road. I'm not full out sprinting, but i'm really close. I feel my lungs open up a little bit more, I feel my quads push a bit harder, and I feel something shift in me. I'm out of my own head and into my body fully now. An unconnected part of my brain watches the miles tick by on the monitor, watches the familiar scenery pass by my eyes, but I'm totally on autopilot, pushing myself as hard as I can. I race like this for quite a while, in competition only with myself, but feeling like I'm winning anyway. After a while, something clicks and I realize that I'm approaching the halfway mark of todays destination. I slow down, enjoy the quirkiness of Saltair as it comes into closer view and I marvel at how much speed I was able to put on and how long I was able to maintain it. Oh yeah, this is why I ride.

At the marina, my halfway point, I ride out to the edge and watch the sailboats as they return home. I love the water, I love boats, but I'm not here to admire them. I'm here because I'm working on my own goals, building my own cathedrals (thanks, other Amy xxox) and I need to get back on the road.

The ride back is usually easier, but the wind turned on me and instead I find myelf fighting a strong, steady headwind. My already tired muscles protest this change of plans, but they are loyal and they give up the complaints soon enough and keep working. They ache, I'm tired and this is suppposed to be the easier part of the ride. To keep my mind occupied, I start to do one of my favorite mental exercises...I start to list the things i'm grateful for. And to add a little spice to my ride, I decide to think about each thing for the space of half a mile. I begin, of course, with my daughter and the half mile is filled with her smile, laughter and funny little words. Next comes my sister, which leads into thoughts about her twins and husband. My mom, my aunts, my grandma, my dad are all juxtaposed with thoughts of gratitude directed towards my friends, the person who invented floor cleaner that gets out baby puke, and my deep and unwavering gratitude for the person who convinced me to try road biking (Candace, I so love you). This little mind game does what it always does for me: the miles fly by, i feel peaceful and blessed and very loved and before I can even get through a minor portion of my gratitude list, I realize I am almost back to my jeep, and in the distance that has passed, I have found miles of peace.

Oh, yeah. This is why I ride.

I finish up the ride with muscles burning and I know I'll be feeling them for a while. It was a tough one, because of the distance, the strenuous speed drills and fighting the wind most of the ride. But my mind feels clearer, my body is tired and I know that rest will comes easily tonight.

As I load up my bike, I am feeling calm, mellow and a little sleepy. The threatened rainstorm never did appear and I am happy to have been out in the mountain air for a while tonight. I pull out and just as I am pulling up to a traffic light, I look to the truck next to me. The driver also has his riding gloves still on and he glances at me and takes in my helmet-mussed hair and my bike on the rack on the back of my car. I can see the smudge of grit around his face where his glasses were, and I know I have an identical one on my face, too. He smiles at me, and I smile back.

"Hell of a night for a ride," he comments through our open windows. "You look like you took on the whole 32. Even with that headwind, you can't beat that."

"Yep, I did," I say, and smile. "I'm tired."

"Well, that's why we ride," he says as the light turns green.

Couldn't have said it better myself.

Liking what i see

I like these pictures.
A lot.
And for me...
This is huge.

Today, I am ...

*Grateful for a job that fulfills the part of me that needs to answer questions and solve problems.

*Excited to get out on my new bike and RIDE!

*Trusting that the rather large investment I made in my health and happiness will pay off.

*Recognizing the intuition is a powerful, powerful thing.

*Understanding that it's ok to just let something go without analyzing it to shreds.

*Happy for other people's joy, as we are all connected.

*Realizing that the mistake I thought I made was actually an experience I need to have in order to learn the lesson I needed to learn.

*Anticipating a weekend of free time and play.