I watched today as two lovely young people pledged their love to one another amidst the laughter and tears that accompanied the hopeful sentiments. It wasn't a large wedding nor was it at all formal. It was warm and inviting and very much filled with the kind of emotion that every person wishes for on his or her wedding day...
In September of 1997 I was teaching seventh grade Language Arts at a wonderful middle school. Earlier, in May, I had become a mother with my first child Jake, and so, it was with mixed feelings that I started back to teaching that Fall and, with Jake in the very capable and loving hands of my mother. At the very least, I didn't worry that he wouldn't be taken good care of; the thought never crossed my mind. However, going back, not being able to stay at home with him was, beyond difficult. Every day seemed harder than the one before it because he changed so much that first year as do all babies. The growth in the first year seems tenfold to that of the rest of their lives. So, I thought about Jake and what it would mean to be without him every day for many hours, not including the papers I had to grade and the lessons that needed to be planned. But, as do many unexpected things, gifts if you will, I was to learn an important lesson that year...
Joshua Vaccaro was very quiet that first part of the school year, almost as if he had a secret that he desperately wanted to share and didn't want to share, simultaneously. It is interesting to have a quiet student because until you get to know them, you don't quite understand what creates that silence in them. Is it fear or pain? Is it shyness or timidity? Is it just the awkward stage of adolescence that compounds the shyness? That first day, it was hard to tell. Only the course of the year would tell me what I needed to know about Josh...
Michelle looked so very happy today as she came down the aisle with her parents: beautiful, serene, smiling. She didn't look nervous at all and if she was, she didn't show it. Her dress, her hair, her bridesmaids, the colors; all of it just played into the rightness of the ceremony that was to follow. And Josh, a tinge of nervousness, maybe at being watched, but his eyes and his face lit up as he saw Michelle coming toward him. Lovely...
Having moved to California not soon before school had begun, Josh had much acclimating to do. Tempestuous does not begin to do justice to the middle school years, but added into moving across the country, it does not take a genius to begin to understand some of his silence. But there was something in him that came out very clearly; he was very smart and creative and just, special. As he began to turn in his work, particularly his writing, it was clear that Josh was talented and articulate and trying very hard to figure out his new life.
Jake began to crawl and babble and he took his first steps at my parents' house. He was growing and changing so quickly that it was difficult for me to pay attention sometimes in class. I found my mind wandering and there were days at lunch when I'd feel so sad and lonely and I just, missed him. I was moodier than usual that year as I'm sure the students noticed. I could turn on a dime, going from humor to anger without even realizing that I was doing it. I found myself more in a daze some days, just wishing for the last bell to ring so that I could go home...
The minister read two letters today; one written to Josh by Michelle and one by Michelle to Josh. They were filled with humor and anecdotes and they must mirror the daily life of the couple as they both smiled and chuckled along with the stories that they each had to tell. When Michel, Josh's stepmother got up to read a poem, there was such a level of comfort and joy in the words that she read and in the faces of their family members as she read them. Clearly, the Vaccaros have become a family who cherishes one another and there is no shortage of humor or optimism anywhere within that unit...
As the months of the school year went on, in a very maternal kind of way, I drew closer to Josh. It wasn't until years later that I realized what I was doing, what was happening. I needed to guide him and he needed me to guide him and what began as two people who were in circumstances that made them feel a bit more isolated and needing, turned into a friendship that brought me to the church today to watch him marry Michelle. I looked forward to seeing Josh during the days that year and it helped me to watch him grow and change and build his self confidence; it helped me in a way that filled in the gap that existed from not being with Jake. I met Josh's father on back to school night and I remember liking him immediately and once he'd shared some of their background, it became clear that Pete was not only invested in Josh's success as a student but that he was willing to do whatever he could to help his son be well and happy. And that feeling pervades today; it showed in the camaraderie of the entire family; in the joy that was demonstrated by the joining of two very wonderful and cherished people.
Josh looked so grown up today, so confident and proud, so happy. I like to think that I helped him to get through that seventh grade year, but I probably did little more than create a space in which he felt comfortable and maybe that was enough. But what I've never said or, maybe what I never told him, was that he helped me survive that year; his sweetness and his intelligence helped to lessen my own fears about being away from my son. I was able to have something to look forward to in seeing him every day and in this way, he was invaluable to my peace of mind.
I don't know Michelle really at all, but I have had the opportunity to hear Josh talk about her, to share some of their adventures, to understand how much she means to him and all of that came together today. I couldn't attend the reception, but I was so thankful that I got the chance to be at the ceremony. I am thankful that I was standing at the front of that classroom fourteen years ago when that shy, uncertain young man walked into my life. His perseverance in every aspect of his life is admirable but his optimism and wit and maybe, his stellar soccer skills are what define Josh but,even more than that, they are what will make him a wonderful husband for Michelle.
I forget sometimes how powerful it is to "be in the right place at the right time" and how that sentiment can apply to even the smallest of moments or the narrowest of paths.
Josh and Michelle, I hope that you have a lifetime of wonderful years together, filled with so many moments of joy and laughter that you cannot keep count and, more than anything, I hope that your marriage is exactly what you want it to be. Thank you for including me and for counting me as a part of your lives together. All of my love to you both... Congratulations!
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Why do you run?
It's an interesting question really and some of the possible answers were posted on huge signs that were scattered along the marathon course in Orange County this past weekend. Some of them were posted, but so many were not. And, although I have written about running before, thinking about some of the responses made me feel a need to write down some of the thoughts that I had as we took on another race, another challenge, another day of punishment as it were...
Never having been a runner, I don't really understand the nature of the beast. I mean, I was a soccer player and a softball player and I was on the drill team in high school. The extent of my running was done during soccer season when the coach ran us so hard and so long that several girls vomited during numerous practices, but that is certainly not the kind of running I'm talking about here. This kind of running, distance running is unlike anything that my body and my mind have ever experienced and the root of what makes me keep coming back for more is the very same thing that keeps me wanting to make positive changes in the world; an incessant need to be and to do better.
I suppose that one might argue that the type of running that I do isn't really a "sport" per se. I mean, I am not competing to win or to "place" and it isn't my objective to time qualify for one of the more prestigious races. So, I thought about it, my friends and I have discussed it and after many runs, several races and some time to consider what this all means, I've arrived at a fairly reasonable conclusion, at least for me. The sport comes from the self-competition. I am not running against or for anyone other than myself and the goals that I've set on that particular day. There is no award, no congratulatory party or scene where I burst across the finish line tape and the photographers go wild. None of that and that's the way I like it. I am a competitive person and I do like to "win," but my goal as an athlete, growing up and especially now, is to give it all I have, to the best of MY ability and frankly, that should be enough. And with running, I'm finding that not only is it enough, it has surpassed any expectations that I have ever had of myself, both physically and mentally...
See, this last half marathon, this past Sunday was the first long run that I've done since January and I was worried that my body wasn't really prepared for it. Some people said, "Oh hell, it's only 13 miles, you've run marathons for crying out loud" but there is no semblance of truth in a statement like that because sometimes it is just as hard to run 13 as it is to run 26, sometimes harder because in the end, it is 99% mental exertion and 1% physical. If, at any point, you tell yourself that you are not going to finish, then you're not going to. Simple. But if you tell yourself that you are going to, well, look at your odds then. Unfortunately sometimes your body just cannot will itself out of an injury or an illness and often, it is impossible to finish, even if you have the willpower of a piranha in a sea of synchronized swimmers... sometimes it is just too much to do. The amazing thing and one of the reasons why I've come to love and to need these challenges, these races, is the human capacity to try again that brings us all back out there. Everyone has a story to tell and some of them would break your heart; some of them though, will change your life forever...
At the beach the other day, I was not paying attention and the four year old whipped off his swim trunks and was sprinting down the sand, a good 15 yards ahead of me before I took off after him. While people pointed and laughed, as did Ty and as did I, I watched his legs and his body fleeing my grasp and as his giggling filled the air between us, I was caught up in the freedom of running after him and for just a second, I didn't really want to catch him, I just wanted to keep running. Maybe it is that reckless abandon that drives me to find the zone when I am out there on a course like this past Sunday, listening to music, watching the world fly by, relishing in the strokes of my feet and the vibrations in my legs and body as I propel myself just a little bit closer to that finish line. Maybe it's a desire to test my mind and to squelch those negative thoughts as they happen; to really challenge myself in the moments of doubt and pain and exhaustion. Or really, maybe it's a need to feel a part of some bigger community of people out there, working toward a common finish, but coming from entirely different places. I found myself, at mile 12 during this last race, almost in tears, but this time, it was because I realized how lucky I was to be able to be out on a course, in sunny California with my friends, on a gorgeous Sunday morning, running... it doesn't get much better than that; at least that is how it felt the other day.
So, why do I run? I get that question a lot and my only answer is, the only truth that I've come to know during these past 3 years of runs is not exciting nor is it a revelation, but, it is my truth... I run because I can, because it is a part of who I am, right down to the very core of what drives me. And I will keep running until my body or my heart or my brain tell me to stop and then... well, let's face it, then I'll do something else. But for now, it's all about "One More Mile..." and that is more than enough.
Never having been a runner, I don't really understand the nature of the beast. I mean, I was a soccer player and a softball player and I was on the drill team in high school. The extent of my running was done during soccer season when the coach ran us so hard and so long that several girls vomited during numerous practices, but that is certainly not the kind of running I'm talking about here. This kind of running, distance running is unlike anything that my body and my mind have ever experienced and the root of what makes me keep coming back for more is the very same thing that keeps me wanting to make positive changes in the world; an incessant need to be and to do better.
I suppose that one might argue that the type of running that I do isn't really a "sport" per se. I mean, I am not competing to win or to "place" and it isn't my objective to time qualify for one of the more prestigious races. So, I thought about it, my friends and I have discussed it and after many runs, several races and some time to consider what this all means, I've arrived at a fairly reasonable conclusion, at least for me. The sport comes from the self-competition. I am not running against or for anyone other than myself and the goals that I've set on that particular day. There is no award, no congratulatory party or scene where I burst across the finish line tape and the photographers go wild. None of that and that's the way I like it. I am a competitive person and I do like to "win," but my goal as an athlete, growing up and especially now, is to give it all I have, to the best of MY ability and frankly, that should be enough. And with running, I'm finding that not only is it enough, it has surpassed any expectations that I have ever had of myself, both physically and mentally...
See, this last half marathon, this past Sunday was the first long run that I've done since January and I was worried that my body wasn't really prepared for it. Some people said, "Oh hell, it's only 13 miles, you've run marathons for crying out loud" but there is no semblance of truth in a statement like that because sometimes it is just as hard to run 13 as it is to run 26, sometimes harder because in the end, it is 99% mental exertion and 1% physical. If, at any point, you tell yourself that you are not going to finish, then you're not going to. Simple. But if you tell yourself that you are going to, well, look at your odds then. Unfortunately sometimes your body just cannot will itself out of an injury or an illness and often, it is impossible to finish, even if you have the willpower of a piranha in a sea of synchronized swimmers... sometimes it is just too much to do. The amazing thing and one of the reasons why I've come to love and to need these challenges, these races, is the human capacity to try again that brings us all back out there. Everyone has a story to tell and some of them would break your heart; some of them though, will change your life forever...
At the beach the other day, I was not paying attention and the four year old whipped off his swim trunks and was sprinting down the sand, a good 15 yards ahead of me before I took off after him. While people pointed and laughed, as did Ty and as did I, I watched his legs and his body fleeing my grasp and as his giggling filled the air between us, I was caught up in the freedom of running after him and for just a second, I didn't really want to catch him, I just wanted to keep running. Maybe it is that reckless abandon that drives me to find the zone when I am out there on a course like this past Sunday, listening to music, watching the world fly by, relishing in the strokes of my feet and the vibrations in my legs and body as I propel myself just a little bit closer to that finish line. Maybe it's a desire to test my mind and to squelch those negative thoughts as they happen; to really challenge myself in the moments of doubt and pain and exhaustion. Or really, maybe it's a need to feel a part of some bigger community of people out there, working toward a common finish, but coming from entirely different places. I found myself, at mile 12 during this last race, almost in tears, but this time, it was because I realized how lucky I was to be able to be out on a course, in sunny California with my friends, on a gorgeous Sunday morning, running... it doesn't get much better than that; at least that is how it felt the other day.
So, why do I run? I get that question a lot and my only answer is, the only truth that I've come to know during these past 3 years of runs is not exciting nor is it a revelation, but, it is my truth... I run because I can, because it is a part of who I am, right down to the very core of what drives me. And I will keep running until my body or my heart or my brain tell me to stop and then... well, let's face it, then I'll do something else. But for now, it's all about "One More Mile..." and that is more than enough.
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