I forget about days like today. That I can have days like today. I know they are out there. But, I forget sometimes.
Per usual, I stayed up way too late last night. Woke up way too early this morning. Chatted up some friends. Fell back asleep. Mid chat. Woke up. Had some giggles. Enjoyed my day off.
The sun was shining. Would have been a perfect day for an outdoor swim. If only my pool was still open. If only.
Ah, but, I enjoyed the sun nonetheless. Then I got an SOS call from someone needing me. Just as I was walking out the door to pick up my bike from the bike shop. For once, I didn't drop my life for someone else. It was only my silly bike. But, it's ME. My life. Dammit, I matter too.
Today I felt strong. Mind, body, and spirit strong. This doesn't happen often. My body has been broken so long. That has affected my spirit. But, today, today the stars aligned. Yes, I hurt. Yes, I'm still broken. But, I saw parts of me that I forgot I had. My smile. My strength.
I felt alive at Power Yoga. I hadn't felt that in a very long time. I used to rock those classes. Hold the poses the longest. Push myself the furthest. Improve with every class. For the last year these classes have been more a struggle with my injuries, with my fears of breaking. Of hurting. Trust me, many a class I was in severe pain. But, I tried anyway. Tonight I had my usual sciatic pain. But, it didn't bother me. My mind won out. The rest of my body won out. I won.
I forget that sometimes I can be strong. I've accepted for over a year that I'm weak. That my body is weak. It made me, oh, so happy to feel strong. If only for one day. Oh, but, wait, maybe not for only one day. I can rock a four mile swim after all.
Some days I wonder where my body went. Other days I see the ghost of yesteryear.
What if things were different. What if circumstances were different. What if you didn't meet who you met when you did. What if you met them earlier. What if you met them later. What if you never met them. What if.
What if that didn't happen to you. What if it didn't change your direction for many years to come. What if you never changed the direction back. What if you let them in when they wanted in. What if you stopped fighting it. What if.
What if you didn't try. What if you quit after you failed the first time. The second time. What if you didn't succeed eventually. What if you never succeed. What if.
What if you didn't break. What if you didn't fix yourself. What if you didn't break again. What if.
What if you weren't so tired. So damn tired. What if.
As if.
"Every tear an ocean, that had the means to drown me, but instead taught me how to swim"
So, here we are. One year ago on this date I broke.
One week out from my 10 minute PR at the Chicago Rock n Roll Half Marathon and seven weeks from the Chicago Marathon. I broke.
I was whining and bitching (shocker) about going out on my 18 mile training run. It would have been a PR distance for me. I missed my 17 mile run for the half. The half hurt. A lot. But, I had a friend pushing me through it. Otherwise, I think I probably would have quit on myself somewhere in there. Not stopped. But, walked some of the race. But, I didn't.
So, there I sat ready to run my 18 miler. Okay, ready would be the wrong word choice. Terrified would be more appropriate. Two of my favorite runner doodes were texting me and telling me to stfu and just go. They are pretty bad ass ultra runners. Me, not so much. Finally I went. I really had high hopes and was determined to do this.
But, eight miles in I stopped. I quit. Mentally I was done. Physically I was most definitely done. My leg was hurting. Not just "this is a long ass run and my leg is tired" hurting. Like on fire hurting.
I sat on a bench along the river. And cried. I knew I was done. Even if my leg was just a minor setback, I knew mentally I was quitting. I texted the guys. Both would usually tell me to suck it up and run. They both told me to stop trying and go home. They knew. Better than I did. They knew.
What I didn't know then, or for a few months for that matter, was that I had a tibia stress fracture. One year ago today. I haven't been the same since. What followed was a pretty crappilicious year, both running wise and personally.
It took the next three months to get a proper diagnosis from a doctor. Bone scan, MRI, and more x-rays than I can count.
I ran a 5k race after my ortho doctor told me that 10 weeks surely should be enough rest from running. It hurt. I did it. But, I MADE myself do it. It really, really hurt.
After all the tests I finally got a hands in the air, "I think it's a stress fracture" diagnosis. Boot for a few months to follow. I waddled for the next few months, which then threw my UBHA (sciatic crap aka UnderBitchHammieAss) into overload. When I finally got out of the boot my ass hurt a ton. If you've never had this sciatic pain you have NO IDEA. It sucks.
But, I soldiered on. Took baby steps back to running. 3 minute runs. 5 minutes. 7 minutes. 10 minutes. 1 mile. Until I ran my Fuck the Boot 5K on a very cold Chicago morning. I was back.
I was wrong.
2 weeks later on a short run, steps into it I heard a POP. I thought I broke my leg. It was a calf strain. TEN times more painful than my stress fracture. Not to mention the awful sound it makes. Ewww. Down again.
Then it was up, down, up, down for the rest of the year. Ass pain. Foot problems. Falling off a bike. Mental funks. Just when things looked good, they got bad again. I'm in pain all the time. Something hurts. All the time. From my neck all the way to my foot. Pain. Now I have some weird ailment I'm dealing with. I don't think it will affect my running. But, I think somehow it was brought on by my lack of running. I also think it's more mentally based. It's just manifesting itself through a physical problem. Oh goodie.
I hate that this year was like this. It was so frustrating. Overwhelming at times. I want to so badly be out there running. It's what saved me. It's now what kills me. People keep telling me to bike. To swim. Yes, I hear you. But, I can bike 60 miles and it does nothing for me. I get the miles in, sure. But, I don't feel the mental and physical workout. Swimming? I love swimming. Of course. It makes me happy. But, running makes me healthy. Both mentally and physically.
While I struggled, others people rocked on. It was fun to see people be awesome. It was hard too. But, come on....
First half marathon
First marathon
first Ironman (yes, I cried like a baby watching the live feed of friends crossing the finish)
200 mile rides
first 100 mile ultra
and many personal achievements and overcoming adversity that made me grin ear to ear.....
and on, and on....
Amazing to watch so many of my friends rock it. So proud of them.
I did have some nice moments in my crappilicious year. There were the races I Do Epic Shit cheered for because I couldn't run them anymore. Chicago Half, where I taunted Claire with her DES shirt the entire race. I rewarded her PR with the actual shirt. Off my sweaty back.
Chicago Marathon, where I had THE best time cheering in all my friends. Seeing most of them three times along the course. Shamrock Shuffle, where injured reserve Claire and I finally joined forces and Do Epic Shit cheered together. So fun! Rock n Roll Chicago Half Marathon. The first time I didn't run this race.
I quit my job of 19 years. I love my new job. There is no way I could continue on with my old job. AND, not run. I wouldn't make it through each day. I was barely hanging on there in the end. My new job makes me smile. And, giggle. A lot. I feel valued. Appreciated. Not something I felt much of at my old job. Or life for that matter. My boss is very understanding about my desire to run. She doesn't run. But, she appreciates my desire to. And, she says fuck a lot. Which makes me smile.
I did my first triathlon. Albeit as a relay. But, a way to see what it's like. I had the most awesome and inspiring teammates. It was an amazing experience. So very cool. I had a decent swim, coming third out of the water for the relay teams. Not bad for an old chick.
I worked on rocking my headstand. Went for a five minute PR. Knocked it out. Now working on ten minutes. At 8:26 I'm almost there. I WILL do ten minutes.
I got my swim on. Not nearly enough as I really want to. I want to do better. But, I'm happy I'm back in after all these years away. And, I'm proud that there is one thing that I don't suck at. I want to be better at this. But, I'll just keep swimming and see where it takes me. Yesterday it took me for a 6000 yard swim . Yeah, baby.
But, I still don't run. I know that when, IF I do start again, it won't be easy. It won't be free. It won't be without worry. That I'll break again. Something old or something new. Break. Long gone are the 9ish minute mile runs of running out my problems in my head. Now my problems will be in my body for long 11:00 or 12:00 minute miles.
One long year. One very long broken year. It's gotten really old. I'm really so over it.
I have to stop looking back and start looking forward. I need to have some hope. Even when I think there is little.
Today I was involved in a few body image conversations. Not sure what it was about today. But, today was about bodies. At work we had some intense discussions about a new dress code that is, in my opinion, teetering on discriminating against people who don't fit a corporate image of what "Americana" looks like. I'm not sure what that really is. However, I do know that we could have walked in the Olympic opening ceremonies and been called out for being American in a heartbeat.
During the day I was also having some serious body image discussions with a new friend, a male triathlete across the globe (I love the internet). We have the same insecurities. We have the same struggles. It's not a female thing. It's a human thing. I think women may feel it worse. But, it doesn't mean men don't have the hurt too.
The body is an interesting thing. It's a beautiful thing. We look at bodies all day long. You may not think you do, but you do. Some of you do more than others. You know who you are. When you are walking down the street you observe. You look at those you pass. You notice. Shapes. Sizes. Movement. Bodies.
As I left work I was walking behind a young woman in a long clingy maxi dress. She was covered in fabric from her chest down to her ankles. Yet, she was hard not to stare at. You boys missed out. As she walked that dress hit all parts of her body. Let's just say a thong does a body good. I love men. But, I can appreciate a beautiful woman's body. Oh, I was jealous too.
When I got home from work I saw my friend, Jay's post. He had been at the mall today with the ladies in his family. He had been killing time with some male mall observations:
The smallest thing you say can carry so much weight. I was stalking outside Victoria's Secret as I do, and a chubby young girl walked out. She looked at me while I was looking at her and she blushed. Who knows what she thought I was thinking. She looked embarassed. So I said real loud, "Hey...nice shoes. You are kickin' ASS today." And she smiled and thanked me and strutted on down the road. I think I surprised her.
Jay noticed her. Her body. Her body language. He made someone who probably didn't feel too good about herself that often feel a bit good. Jay is a good man.
I know how that chubby girl feels. I am that chubby girl. I am sure I know the feelings she feels. When I'm with my friends I'm the chubby girl. Yeah, that's me. I'm that girl. People notice my friends. They don't notice me. Oh, sure, they sometimes notice I'm tall. But, quickly they will notice the beauty of those around me. It's a really bizarre feeling. It's so very hard to explain to someone who has never felt it. To feel invisible. People don't even realize they are doing it to me. It's really quite interesting. It's hurtful too. Yeah, that.
The more I don't run the more invisible I feel. I'm trying to keep myself from disappearing. I'm trying to swim. Swim hard. I'm biking. But, it's not doing what running does for me. Did for me. The weight keeps creeping on. I feel horrible. I crawl in a little hole. It's a vicious circle. I'm trying damn hard to keep my body moving. I swear. But, sometimes I get tired of trying. Tired of hurting. Just tired.
On my ride today I looked at every body that passed me. Really looked them. All shapes. All sizes. Bodies in motion. You have to love bodies in motion. Even if it's not the most perfect body. It's moving. For that you have to admire it. There's greatness in all that move their bodies after all:
As I rode I passed a woman on a horse. Talk about an amazing body. The horse was majestic. The size of it. The muscles. It was magnificent. You truly have to be in awe of bodies like that as well. Come on, if you have been watching the Olympics you have surely thought more than once "Wow, that's an amazing body". How can you not? Men's swimming? Yes please. Women's beach volleyball? My ass is so jealous.
I won't ever be that. I just won't. I have the body I have. It is what it is. Sometimes it looks better than other times. Right now it's not so good. But, I'll keep moving it. Or try to anyway. Some days I'll feel better about it. But, most days, not so much.
If you ever meet me, please don't tell me I'm pretty when I'm not. Don't tell me I look good when I don't. However, tell me that you like my shoes and I'm kicking ass.
The London Olympics begin today. Boy, do I love me the Olympics. Really, is there any better competition? Super Bowls, World Series, sorry, the Olympics trump you all. The drama. The stories. The blood, the sweat, the tears. It's the best.
I've been a fan of the Olympics since I was a little kid. I still can remember being in my basement jumping up and down screaming with my dad while watching the 1980 Miracle on Ice USA hockey team beat those pesky Russians. I remember being a lifeguard during the 1984 Olympics with a t.v. hooked up to an extension cord aimed at the guard tower so we could keep an eye on the swimming action. When a swimming event came on we kicked everyone out of the pool so we could watch the events.
Olympic Gold Medalist Rowdy Gaines
Olympic Gold medalist Steve Lundquist
In high school I was lucky to see my dear friend, and former teammate, Susan, try out for the 1984 Olympics. She really had no chance of making the team. However, it was SO exciting to see her make the attempt. And, to see all the amazing other swimmers who would make the team. Who would have thought they would make such an amazing impact on the 1984 L.A. Games? Swimming was the iconic sport of these games. And, Rowdy Gaines and Steve Lundquist were two of the stars. Two of the swimmers we were lucky to meet at the Trials.
And, wouldn't you know, who made the 1988 Olympic Team? Susan. Sitting in my teammate's living room watching her race at the Trials, jumping up and down, screaming, yelling, crying. She. Made. It. Wow. All I can remember when she called me just after the race was saying, "Oh, my God, YOU ARE GOING TO THE OLYMPICS!!!!!!!" Holy shit. I was bursting at the seams with pride.
Years later I was so very lucky enough to work for the U.S. Olympic Committee in Colorado Springs, Colorado. This was such an amazing experience. Working, living, and hanging out at the U.S. Olympic Training Center was a thrill. Having friends who just happened to be on the cusp of making Olympic teams was so fun. I got to do some really cool things. Meet some really cool people. Have some really amazing memories.
But, this would be nothing in comparison to when I was lucky to procure a sweet month long volunteer position with the 1996 Atlanta Olympics a few years later. I was smart enough to know not to ask for an event position, which most everyone else asked for. I knew there was a better place to be. Accreditation. Anybody and everybody - athlete, coach, media, staff, EVERYBODY associated with the games was required to get their credentials badge. I really think I had the best job. Every single person that came through my station was smiling the biggest smile I had ever seen. They were at the friggin Olympics for crying out loud!
I checked in volunteers. I checked in media. I checked in athletes. One night I was working at the airport accreditation. I was having such fun doing this I pulled a 24 hour shift. I just didn't want the fun to end. Why hello there men's Greek water polo team. Welcome. Please step forward. Welcome to the Atlanta Olympic Games. My name is Andrea. And, what is your name....... ? Seriously? How did I get so damn lucky?!?!
My boss loved me so much she sent me to the Athletes' Village to work a few days. The work there was pretty minimal, so she told me to just go have fun. Go to the athlete bars, nightclubs, whatever I wanted to do. Enjoy. Again, seriously? Who am I? I don't deserve to be amongst these amazing athletes.
Susan & me at 1996 Olympic Swimming
And, lucky me. Guess who met up with me to see some swimming events? Susan. We had an absolute blast cheering on USA Swimming. I rode her little wave and was in awe when famous swimmer after swimmer came up to say hi to her. As her guest I went to an Olympic alumni cocktail party. Well hello there Al Orter. Carl Lewis. Mary Lou Retton. Little old lady from the 1932 L.A. Olympics wearing a medal around her neck. Wow. Just wow. Sure we ended up in the EXACT spot the bomb went off that night. As in the EXACT spot. But, fate pulled us away from there 10 minutes before it went off. 10 minutes.
Jess & Rowdy
Three years ago my sister, 7 year old niece and I went to the U.S. Team Swimming Trials (Olympic Trials in Olympic years). We were back in Indianapolis. Where I had been 25 years earlier to watch Susan. Where I met Rowdy. My niece was just starting her swimming career. But, she already had the glimmer in her eye. However, it was a tough call who was more thrilled by these few days, her or me. I felt like a kid again. And, lookie there.... who do I see again? Rowdy. He was just as nice and sweet as I remember twenty five years before. And, he was especially sweet to Jessica. Anytime we ran into him he high fived her and said, "Hi Jessica". She thought he was the coolest. He really is.
We were lucky enough to have nice seats right next to Michael Phelps mother, Debbie. Jessica was dying to talk to her. To tell her how much she loved her son. She got the nerve to go talk to her. Jessica was SO nervous. But, I was so proud of her. She did it. And, talked to Debbie for what seemed like forever. Later she went up and had another conversation with her. Debbie was SO sweet asking Jess about her swimming and giving her encouragement, ending with a high five. It was fantastic.
Yes, I'm a little goofy for the Olympics. But, there's something about it. About people pushing themselves. To be their best. To be THE best. I've seen first hand sacrifices athletes make to get there. To see moments like this. A world record. The feeling is so intense. To share in that moment. It's not my moment. But, to cheer for that athlete is really a remarkable feeling. The joy is contagious. (Yes, I was a screaming lunatic)
Aaaron Peirsol breaking the 100 back world record.
So, excuse me for the next 17 days. I might be a bit preoccupied. I might be a bit emotional. I might lose my voice. I'll surely get a bit patriotic. However, it's not all about USA, USA, USA for me. Yes, go red, white, and blue. However, go underdog. Go athlete who's seems to fail when it matters most. May this be your time. To the parents that gave their everything, may your child make you proud no matter what. To the human spirit. To the volunteers. To the city of London. To the paralympians. To the athlete that finishes last.
At age ten Jessica has turned into quite the swimmer. This weekend she'll be in the State meet. Qualifying and competing in the maximum amount of events. Next weekend she'll represent the state in a multi state meet. A pretty big deal. When I told her how very proud of her that she made this meet she replied, "Well, someday I'll be in the Olympic Trials." I smiled. I did not even have to humor her. Because, I truly believe that she will in fact be there. And, surely you know who will be up in those stands screaming her head off. Because, really, there is no place I'd rather be. Well, other than the Olympics. And, who knows, I may have a really good reason to go to another one sometime soon.
Two years ago today I lost the woman who mattered most to me in the world. The woman who inadvertently got me running fierce. My grandmother. My kick ass 102.5 year old grandma. And, yes, that half year matters. Just like when you are five. When you hit 100 you start doing half years again. I think it's surely earned. And, dammit, she earned it. Honestly, I had no doubt she'd make 103. So close. She tried so hard to make it to.
It's mid morning already. And, I have yet to decide it this will be a hard day or not. I still cannot believe she's gone. Two years already and I still feel like she's with me. She was with me for SO much of my life. It's just strange not to have her there. She was always there. And, now she's not.
She lived a very healthy 102 years. In her own home. With my grandfather, until his death in 1986. She lived next door to my family. For my entire life. So, she was very present. It was only her last few months that her health started to fail her. I was in denial. I was sure she would live forever. This could not be so.
I was already running a bit. Here and there. 5.5 miles on my running trail was my long run. But, I was consistent. It was easy.
When she got sick, and sicker. I needed and outlet. For my emotions. For my fears. Running was there for me.
I was grandma's main caregiver. I prepared her meals. I bathed her. When you find yourself bathing a parent, or grandparent, or other close relative you normally don't bathe it's an odd feeling. It's a very intimate and intense thing. By, this, I mean that the look in their eyes as you do this is intense. Embarrassment goes out the door. Instead, deep gratitude is what I felt. When you get to this moment of caregiving there's no turning back. They know. You know. Each and every time I did this I got an extremely strong, and somewhat sad looking, "thank you". And, each time, I would give back a "Absolutely. You're very welcome." Then a shared smile.
I tucked her in bed each night. I was the one who picked her up off the floor when I found that she had fallen. I was the one deciding when things were beyond me and we had to go to the hospital.
She was in the hospital for days on end. Then she moved to a nursing home. I visited before work and had breakfast with her. I went straight from work to have dinner with her. I stayed until it was bedtime and then I tucked her in and said goodnight. He smile the last thing I saw as I left.
I then went home headed outside, and ran. I was physically and emotionally exhausted. 9pm. 10 pm. 11 pm. Whatever. I think one run had me finish after midnight.
I needed the run. I was the one holding my family together. But, nobody was holding me together. I had no one to talk to. No one to listen to me. No one to cry to. Running was all those things to me.
Running saved me when I felt like I was dying with grandma.
As you know, my running is iffy at best these days. Constant injuries are plaguing me. I know some people question my motivation. I sometimes question my motivation. But, I know, if my body would allow I would be out there as often as I could. Because I know what it did for me when I needed it most. I know what it can do for me.
I had zero time for anything when grandma was sick. Yet, I found time for running. I had to. Life is busy for me these days. But, surely nothing can ever overtake me as much as that time with grandma.
Lisa and I have talked about how weird it is sometimes that even though life is busy, nothing is as overwhelming as when a loved one is dying. Yet, we both were running our best during these times. She running fast and furious as her mother was dying. Me, with grandma. It's a weird feeling and so hard to explain. If you have never lost someone very close to you, it may be hard to understand. And, honestly, I hope you never have to understand.
So, today I think about grandma. And, remember how much I love her and miss her. I also think about how, even though she never knew it, she got me to get my run on. Even after she was gone, she had a hand on my shoulder. Well, okay, maybe not my shoulder. She was 4'8"ish and I'm 5'10". Giggle. We were an odd pair. But, that's what was so great.
I wish you all could have met her. She was a cute little bugger. She was so very kind. She was so very sweet. She was funny. She had a hidden hard edge side. She loved taking care of people. She made me giggle.
She was my grandma. I still miss her so.
But, I promise, some day I will be injury free and will run those runs just like I used to. For grandma. But, more importantly. For me.
Oh, ho, hey. Can we all just jump in a van? And hang out. You can drive next to me while I run. You can run with me. We will stop. We will giggle. We will drink beers. We move on. We will run again.
When we see an amazing swimming hole you'll let me get my swim on.
Is it too much to ask? For you all to just hang out with me. Like all the time.
Yes, I dropped off for a few weeks from running. Not completely. But, mostly. But, more importatnly, I dropped off from you.
I was trying. To get my run on. To quietly start my Chicago Marathon training. Even though I was clearly way behind everyone else. Not sure why I need to feel like I need to keep up with people who clearly are out of my running league. But, I want to at least stay in the same running planet as them.
I made the mistake of trying too hard when the heat was just unbearable. And, it was. It broke my spirit. You see, the heat is not my friend.
Hey, I love the sun. The warmth. The beach. The ocean. In fact I plan on running away with someone one day to live such the life. But, running in the heat is not for me. Seriously. I get exercise induced asthma that literally brings me to my knees if I try to run in oppressive heat and humidity. I don't know how you people run in that crap. 15, 20 mile runs? Huh? Amazing. I just physically cannot do it.
Weather is rarely a good enough excuse for me not to run. Hey, I'm the girl that ran 4 miles, in a truck tire track, in 22 inches of snow, in shorts, after 2011 Chicago Blizzardpalooza. I've been on two runs when tornado sirens have gone off. I've run in below zero temperatures, with a smile on my face. In shorts. I run in downpours. Cold downpours. In shorts. So, I'm not one to use weather as an excuse too often. But, heat? It wins. Hands down. Winning.
But, I tried. I had a some people on me. And, by ON me I mean they kind of harassed me in the kindest of ways (and maybe a bit not so kind) to make sure I was not quitting. Some were close running friends. Some were people I don't interact with that often. But, each and every one of them impacted me. Mattered to me. I cannot tell you how nice it was to have people care about me. To give me a hand if I needed it. To kick my ass if I needed it.
Others sent me messages. Again, some from people I care about deeply and consider close friends. Others were from people I barely know. Who, just peeked it to tell me they missed me. Or to tell me that they were thinking about me. To tell me they hoped I was ok. To offer to meet me and go running. Whoa. Seriously? Whoa.
Sometimes I feel as though I can just quietly walk away and life will go on just fine without me. And, it does. But, then.... quietly, one by one, people poke me. Wake me from my slumber. Pull me up. Kick my ass. Give me a hug. And, some, just make me giggle. And, on some days, that's more than enough.
So, I was away for a bit. I swam as much as I could. Some of you have told me to just forget this stupid marathon crap and just be a kick ass swimmer. But, swimming is easy for me. Yes, I could get faster (I'm still gunning for Nathan ). But, running is way more of a challenge for me. WAY more. Swimming isn't scary for me. Running is terrifying for me. I love to face my fears. And win. Besides, swimming may make me happy. But, running makes me healthy.
I did run a little. Well, until my butt broke again. I blame Bart Yasso. And, by blaming Bart Yasso I don't mean I was doing Yasso 800's and got hurt. I mean I was running with Bart Yasso when I got hurt.
So, then I did not not run for a bit. To try to heal. But, then the weather broke last weekend. Dropped 25 degrees from the heat index we had for the past few days. I no longer could use heat as an excuse. And, my friend Suzi was heading out for a 15k race the next day. I was trying to convince her she could do this. Untrained. Because she could push herself further than she thought. However, how could I tell her this while I wasn't living my own words. So.... I headed out for a run. To run as far as my body and mind would allow. I made seven miles , my longest run since I broke 11 months ago.
It wasn't so bad. It wasn't easy either. But, I put zero pressure on how fast or how far I would go. My mind and body just went. I had asked for some friends to pray for me as I headed out. Midway in my run I ran across some road chalk, from a local teen running club I see running on this path on my way to work in the mornings. "Living on a prayer". Ahhh, just what I needed. Thanks guys!
Two nights ago I was on another run. This one was five miles. But, it was harder, mentally, and physically. But, I got it done. Somehow. Again, I saw road chalk again. This time it was, "We've got each other and that's a lot"
It made me think that yes, I got you. And, it's a lot.
Thanks for being there when I need it. It matters more than you'll ever know.
