What? No, everything here is Fine. Just Fine.

Moments of insecurity and doubt? Wherever did you get that idea?

No. Certainly not. Everything is Just Perfectly Fine.

I have a social theory. I think we may possibly be setting our daughters up for a spot of misery. And let me tell you why…

Have you noticed how many women are described as “formidable” these days? Like… ALL of them? So many that it is now really kind of NORMAL to be this astonishing paragon of professional productivity/community activism/domestic engineer extraordinaire?

And as we formidable women form, and step into our roles as wife-mother-worker-volunteer-king-queen-boss-of-all, where are our MEN? Why, they are on the couch! Or at the bar, or the ball field, or the cabin, or wherever they can be to just stay the hell our of our way because we’ve got shit to do, dammit, and they’re really just in the way. They are fading, right out of the picture.

So I ask you, Formidable Women = Fading Men?

Well, the hell with that, I say. Going to focus some of my formidable on making THAT little dynamic different, and it starts right now…

I recently learned that sometimes, if I want someone (*cough* my husband *cough*) to do something, to participate in our lives, then I need to get the hell out of the way first.

I snuck out for a swim at the neighborhood pool today, because I am still on the fence about doing that tri in a couple of weeks, and want to keep comfortable with the swim, just in case.

I am never sure how long I am there, when I swim. My goggles fog up about half-way through my laps, and yes, I know the trick with the spit, and it never works for the duration of my swim. I know I always wind up doing at least 2 or 3 extras because I lose count. Sound is muffled, under my swim cap.

I am almost always one of only two people in the pool, so I can only hear my own breath, feel only my own disturbances in the cool water. The late afternoon sun shines on the east half of the pool, while the west is in shadow. I feel like I could go on, endlessly, effortlessly. Just me and my breath, and the easy rhythm of my strokes, time away from time.

I’ve always loved the water - nothing makes me more serene than being in or on it. I think about where that water might have been, and when… under a barge carrying Cleopatra up the Nile? In a snowflake falling on Christmas Eve in Scotland? Rushing over Niagara Falls? In the tears of an old man in Moscow? Few things more eloquently illustrate the Oneness of All like good old H2O.

Today is Saturday. My alarm went off at 6:45 a.m., and after that I:

Went for a four mile run with Tiffany.
Drank a glass of water.
Went to the grocery store.
Brought all the groceries in the house and put them away.
Fed the kids.
Persuaded the kids to get dressed and brush their teeth.
Started a load of laundry.
Watered by perennials.
Fed the dog.
Argued with my husband on the phone.
Fixed my breakfast, then ate it while cleaning out email.
Got in the shower, dressed, make-up.
Switched out my laundry.
Made all the beds.
Called a friend to make sure I had a cell number to give Lex, as mine is up north.
Mowed the front yard.
Started digging out a bush in the front yard.
Fixed lunch.
Fed the kids lunch, packed for soccer.
Got the kids out the door to soccer.
Made it to the field, cheered!
Collected money for trophies and coaches gift.
Passed out fliers.
Placated hot and cranky five year old.
Did NOT yell too much “helpful advice” at totally-not-into-soccer-today 7 year old.
Did the tunnel, cheered!
Packed up, left field, stopped for ice cream for strep throat girl.
Got home.
Switched out laundry, took care of stuff from soccer.
Prepped dinner.
Finished wrestling bush out of front yard.
Nursed numerous scratches from said bush.
Took little ones to pool, and home again (”We are only staying ONE HOUR and I mean it!”)
Took last load from dryer upstairs. Will fold later.
Got little ones dressed.
Fed them a snack.
Took care of stuff from pool.
Fed the dog.
Fixed dinner.
Browbeat children into eating dinner.
Measured two pairs of pants for hemming.
Cleared dinner, washed dishes.
Browbeat children into showers.
Balanced checkbook.
Put in movie for babies, browbeat tween into shower.
Hemmed two pairs pants.
Fed the cat.
Put babies to bed.
Scrubbed tub.
Ironed two shirts.
Mixed a drink….
And it is all just too depressing to keep going! I still have three loads of wash to fold, and pics to send to my sister….

Damn. I. Am. Tired.

Check it out!

And tell me what YOU are reading, especially if you share my interest in middle grade and young adult books, both fiction and non-fiction, and especially “faction,” otherwise known as historically accurate fiction.

I love to read! Cookbooks, dictionaries, picture books, backs of cereal boxes…

I walked yesterday, though traditionally I like to run on Thursdays, to try and give my sore, sore legs a chance to recover. It didn’t seem to help!

I ran around 7, I think, though I took off on a new route that I haven’t clocked yet, so it might be more or less. I know it took me about 64 minutes, and every aching step was a struggle. I am going to take tomorrow off for sure, and then see how things feel Sunday. Something is not right, and I’m pretty sure it is my lousy eating.

Ran with Renee today - what a treat, to run with someone after the long, cold winter alone. We ran 3.5, then walked another half mile to cool down, which is something I need to try and add into my routine. I NEVER stretch, NEVER cool down. I run right up to the driveway, walk in the house, and usually start dragging kids away from their fun and up to the tub.

The sun was out, and her route is very scenic, which again was a wonderful change. That stream in the middle was GREAT. I’ve got to start running over at Celery Flats more often. Running near water is so, so SOOTHING.

It was DAMN cold, though - temp in the 20s with a wind chill in the teens.

I’m getting this out of the way first, because I don’t like thinking about it. After nearly a week off for NO GOOD REASON, I went out again this afternoon. Without question, that was one of the suckiest runs EVER. It was so bad I did not even get that virtuous little surge of relief you get when you are in the home stretch. Now, hours later, my legs ache like a mother, and my voice is still raspy.

So, P! U! Tomorrow is another day, I guess.

My cousin Renee, who is also a runner, called me today, singing.

“Bu dum baaaaa, bu dum baaaaaa, bu dum baaaaaa, budubadum baaaaaa….”

In case it loses something in the translation, that is the theme from “Rocky”. Renee and I have both been in a slump, both fighting bad cases of the winter blues, and struggling to get the running done when the prevalent attitude is “WHO CARES?!” When she called, I was out in the yard, pooper-scooping, because it felt more productive than sitting and staring at my computer, waiting for an email to come in that says, in essence, “Time to make some money!”

She said she was just back from her run, and it was the hardest one she’d ever done. She fought herself every step to keep going, and her determination is actually what got me out the door tonight, no doubt about it. I hummed “Rocky” for the first mile, no kidding. And then, for some bizarre reason, I could hear it in my head, but in the voice of Peter from “The Family Guy”. I giggled off and on for the next mile, which did not do anything to up my sanity stock with the neighbors.

But I WENT. No watch, so no time, but it actually felt pretty fast. Did 6.4, in the neighborhood, with absolutely dry roads. Temp around 35, with a bitter wind. And I’ll be out there tomorrow, too, by God.

Sometimes I have to run so I remember how to breathe.

I don’t have a lot invested in Valentines’ Day. If I am feeling REALLY fancy, I might make heart shaped pancakes for breakfast, or homemade cards for the kids, but most often I just give them an extra smooch and call it good. So, much as I wanted to with snow back on the streets and winter back in the air, I couldn’t use it as an excuse to blow off my run.

Went the neighborhood route to go 6.4 miles, right around noon. Roads were slick, so it was slow going, and even though the sun was out I kept the mask on for almost the whole run. It is certainly not as cold as it has been, but is definitely not the 65 degrees we enjoyed on Tuesday! Back under the layers we go.

I was close to the end of my run when the song “Gathering the Clans” (Braveheart soundtrack) came on my Ipod - and suddenly I was not a middle-aged Mom slogging through snow and ice in the heart of Suburbia. My feet were not in wet running shoes with duct tape on the heels, but bare, and hard as the rock I ran upon. My body was not smothered in fleece and cotton poly blends, but flowing unencumbered through frigid highland air. I could feel the heather scratching at my calves, and my legs eating up the miles with efficient exhuberance, and I was running not to fit in my jeans, or to set a good example, or to do well in some meaningless race - I was running to survive.