Many the Miles

I'm in the thick of it.

Tomorrow starts week 8 of marathon training.

In the short time that I've been at it, I've run 121 miles and still have 277 more to go before race day.

Last week, I was forced to do a 12-mile long run on the treadmill because the streets/sidewalks were still coated in snow and ice and I thought I was going to lose my shit, literally...what a miserable, God awful experience.  So, this week, I was elated when my feet hit the pavement for a 14-miler.

The sunshine, fresh air, trees, and wind made me feel alive and hopeful. 

I've never run farther than 14 miles, so everything from here on out is uncharted territory.  I'm staring down mid-week mileage of 15-20 miles followed by a 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, or 20 mile long run on the weekend.

I'm not going to lie.  I'm having a crisis of faith.  It's not easy to put one foot in front of the other over and over again and to tell yourself that you've got this.  The demons are powerful.

And so, because I run solo, I rely heavily on my playlist to lift me up and pull me through.  I usually like fast paced, explicit lyrical tunes that make me feel like a bad ass...but now that I find myself running for hours at a time, I've turned to different music...numbers that incorporate lyrics that I can call my own.

I've loved Sara Bareilles for a long time.  She has a song that is clearly a love letter to another called, "I Choose You."  I listened to it and thought it had a sweet melody...and then, I really listened to it and thought...what if it means me choosing me. 

Dedicating the amount of time and energy it takes to train for a marathon (particularly in the winter months) with three kiddos is not an easy deal.  Choosing not to hit the snooze button, paying attention to my nutrition, icing my body, and in general, getting out the door takes well, a level of commitment that is more than I think I bargained for. 

And so, it has to be a choice.

A conscious decision to choose me.  To stand firm in the decision that I've made to work toward this dream.  I can care take for all of the remaining hours of the day...but for the few that are required to lace up my shoes and go, I have to, have to choose me.

And in doing so, I ultimately choose my family and friends.  I am available to give the best of me, even if I'm dead ass tired in a pair of yoga pants with my hair pulled back....my confidence is restored, my ya yas are out, my mojo is back and I'm me.

And so, I leave you with a little Sara Bareilles and the idea that in life, before all else, you've got to choose you. 

When Does the Soul Enter/Depart?

I've never been a fan of cemeteries.

In fact, since my grandparents have passed, I've not gone once. 

Not on Memorial Day.  Not on Christmas.  Not on the anniversary of their deaths.

To me, they're not there.  Their souls have departed.  They are in Heaven.

When I want to pay homage or connect, I just start talking to them.  Usually, it's on their birthdays or when my children do something that I know my grandmother would remark about or love. 

And so the other day it hit me during a fascinating chat with a friend...if I believe that the soul departs the body upon death, when does it enter?

Upon conception?

Upon birth?

What happens to embryos that are frozen during various In vitro fertilization processes? 

Is the soul only available to us as human beings when it inhabits the body because we're limited creatures?

It all seems so complicated and ethereal until your child asks, "Where is Great Grandma now?"  or "Did you always know that I would be your daughter?"

And then, the philosophical conundrums feel a bit more real and important to try and process.

In my quest to determine my purpose for being on this earth, I'm mindful that my life is intentional and my soul is here for a reason.  And that ultimately, the real question is figuring out what I am here to do?

So maybe it doesn't matter when the soul enters the body, as long as it seeks to make the world a better place than when it discovered it.

The gifts that we bring are intended to create a more meaningful, peaceful, loving experience for those who come after us.  If we're seeking to do so, we know that the legacy we leave behind will no doubt be impacted by our presence.

So, in many respects, arguing over the soul's inception or exit is far less useful than the contribution that the soul makes while she's here, which is what I've shared with my children. 

Since we have no idea how many days we have on this earth, we should seek to make each one count, so that we're living a soul-filled life and helping others to do the same.

How are you feeling...in your Heart?

Since my children were born, I've asked them one question daily.

"How are you feeling in your heart?"

It's a gauge...a compass...a bit of a barometer on the state of their soul.

And you know little kids, they're brutally honest.  And they will tell you.

"Mama, I'm angry."  "Mama, I'm perfect."  "Mama, I'm cold."  "Mama, I'm super happy."

The other day, my husband with a bit of a silly grin on his face and somewhat facetiously, said to me:

"How are you feeling in your heart?"

No one had ever asked me that before.  And so, even though I should have laughed back, I was more taken aback.  How is the state of my soul...in this moment...in this day?

It's a good question to ask because it begs not what you should be feeling or doing or how you should be behaving...but it gives you permission to answer from the depths of your being.

And we all know that the heart is far more accurate than the mind.  The heart is where the joy, the fear, the anticipation, the hope resides. 

The heart is where it hurts and it feels good and when it's tapped and connected with keeps us aligned to what we want most.

Nothing is black or white.  But everything guided from and by the heart keeps us authentic, purposeful, and living honest lives.

And so I ask, "How are you feeling in your heart?"

You are Enough

I lucked out.

When I was 19 years old getting ready to complete my freshman year of college in Chicago, I stumbled upon a girl.  She and I had one class together for one semester.  We weren't really friends, but she seemed nice/normal. We decided to be roommates our sophomore year and from that moment forward have been remarkable friends ever since. 

We've never lived in the same city or state.  Yet, even with the distance, we've seen each other through shitty first jobs, even shittier first romances, weddings, births, deaths, wounds so deep that only a dear friend can console, and lately, the ups and downs of bringing up a family.

And the theme of her pep talks to me are always...Kelly, you are enough.  The house you live in, the car you drive, the things you say or don't say to the ones you love, the number on the scale, the amount in the bank account, the goals, the dreams, the failed attempts....Kelly, you are enough.

And, I say to her, "Are you sure?"  And she assures me that every day, all day long, right here and right now, I am enough.   And after we get off the phone, for a while, I believe her. 

The greatest tragedy in life is to assume that we're less than.  It is debilitating and serves no purpose.  God doesn't make junk.  There will never be another you or another me.  We have been given this life to live and to love.  It's really that simple and from the moment that we were born, we were always enough.  Believe it.