FunnyBlog

Be like a Bee

I have a fascination with honey bees.
Remember this old post
when I took my camera into the shower to photograph them?
Good times back in Knoxville.

Anyhow,
When M. Russell Ballard
gave this address
entitled
Be Anxiously Engaged
during General Conference,
I was delighted to listen.

Today I went outside with my camera
to try and capture something beautiful.
Why not the honeybees across the street?

It’s pretty powerful to think about what we can accomplish when we all focus on the things of God,

even if we, like the bees, each just produce our 1/12th of a teaspoon it will be more than enough.

On another bee note.

The BYU documentary that I just saw for the first time on Sunday also inspired me to do more for others.

I love so many metaphors from this documentary but perhaps the one the most lovely is that bees use white clover (a normally discarded weed) as their food-source. The bees see the clover like no one else does.

If I live my whole life and accomplish all that I wanted it will be in vain if I can’t look at every other person I meet and see the white clover inside of them.

Fat

Fat is a nasty word.
The only time it should be used is in regards to the stuff on the backside of a butchered pig.
Fatback is the only time when fat is a good thing.
And what a good thing it is.
Just ask the green beans.

I’ve been called fat. A lot. It sucks.
After watching this video on facebook yesterday, I was perplexed.

I offered the following on my page as a passive aggressive response to a few people I know who judge “fat people.”

“I hate it when physically in-shape people look down upon those who aren’t. I hate to tell you this, but you’re not superior, especially in regards to the things that matter most: kindness and appreciation for others wherever they are in life is a learned art and maybe you should get off the treadmill long enough to take some lessons. I don’t experience as much prejudice in this department as I used to, but it sure makes my blood boil whenever I encounter it.”

The funniest thing about my above rant is that I got all kinds of people, my friends mind you, apologizing to me for the way that I had been treated. Why did they apologize? Because they think I am fat and that I have reason to be apologized to. Kind of ironic, huh? I never mentioned that I had been treated badly, did I? In fact, I hadn’t had any teasing at all, I only posted the comment in defense of others and in opposition to the people out there looking down on this lady. I’ve actually been feeling pretty good about the way I am looking until yesterday. HA.

Well as you, who read my blog, know I’m on a journey of self-discovery. I’ve learned to love myself and I am still learning to take care of myself. I all too well know the life of this anchor. I know what it is like to be raising 3 young daughters (and she has a full-time job to boot) and to feel the stress and eat too much and exercise too little. I also know what it’s like to get off my butt and count calories. I also know what it’s like to have a propensity to being larger as a child and as an adult.

I also know what it’s like to lose a nephew and to know that in his last week on this earth he was called fat by some mean little girls and that the word F A T may have been racing through his mind in his last breathe. It breaks my heart. Absolutely makes me shed tears. Right now in fact.

Yes, people are fat, but trust me, they know it. You pointing it out to them, or looking down on them, or even apologizing for others’ fat name callers to someone who has recently lost 35 pounds doesn’t really help the situation and it doesn’t really motivate people to be better.

Do you know what motivates people to be better? Loving them wherever they are. Loving them right where they are. Even if it’s at 700 pounds. Anyone who has watched Richard Simmons should know this fact.

Do you know why loving them helps? Because the reason they are fat is that they don’t love themselves enough. Period. Or maybe they have a health condition? Or maybe they are just a husky kid that could eventually be a college football star if they live long enough to pursue that goal? The point being: You don’t know what they are capable of, if all you see is F A T. And you will also never know the beauty of loving people in their weakness if you can’t see past it. You don’t even know what scars are under the fat.

If you can love F A T people then maybe they can learn to love themselves. And if you can love them F A T, maybe they will love you in your weakness.

See how that works? Well, yeah, you do kind of have to admit your own weakness first. Maybe you could start with judging, lack of charity, or complete and total PRIDE?

We’re so Utah, just ask the Cafe Rio Pork

Here is a recipe

that screams Utah.

It’s Cafe Rio Pork

and it’s so delicious.

I made up the recipe

because I couldn’t find one that was good enough.

Yeah, I’m an awesome cook.

What can I say?

I lived in the South for 10 years.

It gives me the advantage.

I also like to keep it simple in the kitchen.

Throw the following ingredients into a crock pot.

3 pounds pork roast

2 cans cola (you can use diet or regular. I prefer Dr. Pepper but Coke or Pepsi or Shasta or generic is fine.)

About 1 cup and a handful of brown sugar (just go with it, but you can omit this if you want pork less sweet)

3/4 cup water

2 cubes Chicken Boullion

3 Tablespoons minced garlic

1/2 cup dried onion

1/3 cup taco seasoning.

_____________________________________

Cook for 6 hours.

________________________________________

Shred the pork into the liquids right inside the crockpot.

Cook another 2 hours.

Serve over hot fresh tortillas from Costco.

______________________________________________

Try the recipe.

And come back and tell me how amazingly Utah I’ve become.

I didn’t want to do it.

I didn’t want to turn into one of them.

But I have to admit

it ain’t half that bad.

I’m a Utah Mormon blogger.

Well, if you can still call me a blogger.

Since I don’t really blog anymore.

I took the following photo yesterday.

It pretty much tells the story.

I set up the photo myself

on MANUAL settings

because I have just loved my photography class.

You can’t be a good Utah Mormon lady

unless you are are enrolled in some kind of class,

right?

And you definitely can’t be a good

Utah Mormon mommy blogger

unless you know how to photograph.

I took the photo after running into the shot.

My camera was supported by a boulder

on the opposite side of the trail.

And look at us.

We are so cute.

Notice my Utah fashionable hat.

And my frame 35 pounds lighter

because I run every other day.

My kids are perfection.

Even my dog is perfection.

My husband is the bomb.

I love him so much,

and he’s perfection too.

Just for me.

Now, I wonder how many people

I’ve managed to annoy?

What I don’t want to tell you is

I set up the picture to hide my fat butt.

We went to the canyon

on a Sunday

NOT in our Sunday clothes

just to get a picture of the leaves.

Notice the photo

is lack of any oranges or reds.

My kids have rebelled against

family bike rides in the same canyon because

I made them ride all the way

to Bridal Veil from our house once.

Apparently 20 miles round trip is a bit much.

O.k. I don’t think its that far,

but still,

I can’t get them to want to go.

I threw the hat on because I took a photo

earlier that day at church

and my hair was atrocious.

Is that the right spelling of

atrocious?

I guess I have a ways to go

to be the perceived perfect Utah Mormon.

I think they all probably have a ways to go too.

The Art Fart

I really hope Sophia doesn’t decide to read the blog today.

I do believe she’d die of embarrassment.

I must write though

because it’s stories like this that I don’t want to forget.

And I do forget.

I forget as early as next week if I don’t write it down.

LG’s been playing with new camera more than me. I love it.

We finally got Sophia into an art class.

She has shown a real propensity for art since she was a toddler,

and I am so grateful we finally have the means to help her along.

Check out her very first project.

I dare you to say she’s anything less than a prodigy.

And now, here’s a little art fart funny from Friday.
I went into the studio to tell Sophia that I was there to take her home.
She was happily working on a picture of SpongeBobSquarePants in colored pencil.
Next to her was the cutest boy about the same exact age
working on what looked like a tribal tattoo.
They were both having a blast doing the art thing while bantering back and forth.
It made this mom very happy to see Sophia in her element.
When you know something about your kid, you just know.
And I have always known that Sophia has the soul of an artist.

Minutes later Sophia bounds out to the car and we head home.
I zone out thinking about all I have to do
to get out the door that evening in time for
a friend’s birthday party and a choral concert of my nephew at BYU.
All of the sudden Bella and Sophia are cracking up.
I ask them what was so funny.
Through fits of laughter they tell me.

Sophia – Nooooooo, don’t tell her.
Bella – I have to. Sophia likes __________!! (I can’t remember his name)
Me – (Not surprised in the least.) What’ so funny about that?
Sophia – Nothing. Nothing.
Bella – Well, Sophia and _______ were messing around hitting each other and being silly.
Sophia – STOP! Bella don’t tell her.
Bella – And then Sophia…
Sophia – (butting in because if the story is going to be told, she’s going to tell it) We were just playing around, and all of the sudden I farted. It just came out. I couldn’t help it.
Me – Oh my gosh, how embarrassing. Did you just die?
Bella – It gets worse mom.
Sophia – So then the teacher comes in and asks us if we need anything.
Bella – And _____________ says, “Do you have a clothespin?”
Me – Did it stink?
Sophia as red as a beat – “I guess so.”

This may not seem funny to any of you, but it’s moments like this when I just love being a mom. It is so fun to watch your kids grow up and become adults who are embarrassed by bodily functions.

Now, here is something to make it up to Sophia whenever she reads this story.
Sophia brought this home last year from school after the class all wrote down anonymous compliments.
She is one cool kid, even with the gassy gas.

And me, you ask?

How’s the photography going?

Well, it’s going when I squeeze in the time.

Here is one of my practice shots

while I was outside the art studio waiting on Sophia.

We are learning about aperture.

Photography is art.

Maybe I should leave it up to Sophia.

It’s a lot more complicated then I expected.

(That’s why I’ve dragged LG into the hobby,

he’s my scientific go-to man.)

Check out my the website of my super cool teacher.

Here’s a photo of another one of my cool kids.

She’s taking a cooking class right now.

I’ve always known that Bella would grow up to be a beautiful cook.

Shooting action is more difficult

especially without the right lens

but here is our Abigail.

I always knew she’d grow up to be a soccer star.

Caroline.

Notice that she’s reading dad a bed-time story.

At 6 pm.

That’s how it goes around here.

Isn’t he cute?

I do believe my car is in need of a wash.

And here is LG’s latest project.

An expose about the life of a housewife.

Cleaning, cleaning, cleaning.

All the time.

Even on Sunday.

Embracing mom-hood

I’m learning to embrace my mom-hood.

It’s kind of like man-hood, but with boobs.

And a whole lot of other stuff.

I have recently learned something about myself.

Something that has never dawned on me before.

I’m insecure in my parenting.

I don’t know why,

I really am a pretty darn good mom.

I can only remember one time with my kids got in trouble in school.

Abigail was in kindergarten and she got written up for writing on her desk. In pencil.

What can I say? She was my first.

My kids are well-rounded.

They are kind for the most part.

Why should I be insecure?

I am now going to resist listing their good traits.

Because I am trying to learn to NOT need to do that.

It’s not healthy.

My kids are MY KIDS.

What else do they need to prove to me?

Nothing.

They don’t need to be a certain way for me to love them.

And they certainly shouldn’t need to be a certain way for me to love me.

So in honor of embracing my impeerfections as a parent,

and in honor of the vulnerability

that I’ve been learning about in Brene Brown’s book.

Here is the kind of mom I am NOT.

1- I am not an overly anal car-seat parent.

I don’t believe in making my kids ride in a car while suffocating.

(After posting this photo on facebook it was brought to my attention

that the straps should be tighter and the harness higher.)

Whatever.

I also usually don’t remember to remind my kids

to put on their seat-belts til we are at least

out of the driveway and usually we are down the street a ways.

2- I hope to have one more baby to test this next mom item out,

but I don’t believe I will ever be one of those wrapper moms.

Kind of like rapper mom,

but with a big long blanket that goes around your whole body.

And inside the blanket is a baby,

wrapped to your body.

Clinging to you for their very life,

like a car-seat will kill their brain cells.

Hmm, maybe I am a car-seat mom after all.

I am a total believer in the baby carrier.

Always have been, and I believe I always will be.

I also secretly hope that my hubby would never

be a wrapper-dad.

I just don’t find it sexy at all.

Unless we are in the African jungle,

and it would be the only way to keep the baby safe.

You know straddling his chest,

while he takes his machete to fight off the warthog,

that might be sexy.

3-My three year old goes to bed with a

sippy cup of chocolate milk every night.

It is just a little bit of chocolate

and we only added the chocolate because my mom

ruined the perfectly good white milk on her last visit.

I have no intention of changing this tooth decaying habit

until my dentist tells me I have to.

It’s hard enough to get the kid to bed,

and at least we can bribe her with the cup.

And let’s face it,

I’m soooo over it by 10 pm

when we finally get her to bed.

4-I put my three year old to bed at 10 pm.

If any of you would like to come over and wrestle her to sleep earlier

or keep her from her 4:00 nap every day,

more power to you.

5- In the summer my kids and I stay up til midnight

and we all usually sleep in until at least 10 am.

I always laugh at the parents who say they would love

for their kids to sleep in,

but, “THEY JUST WON’T,

I’ve tried keeping them up.”

Yeah, well, you have to keep them up for longer than one night.

Keep them up late for a week,

and I promise they will sleep in.

I think some parents take pride in their

early to bed, early to rise schedule.

I might be one of them if I could ever do it.

6- I really really love Little Ceasar’s Pizza

and Taco Tuesdays at Del Taco.

I wish my hubby would let us eat out every night.

I don’t really enjoy cooking

unless I am in the mood to bake.

I’m a good cook,

it’s jut not my thing.

7-I only change my kids sheets as needed.

Sometimes we can go a couple of months,

especially when they sleep on top of their comforters.

A few dead skin cells

obviously doesn’t kill them.

8- I only scrub my showers on a bi-monthly basis.

Get over it.

9-I make my kids fold their own clothes

and let their drawers be messy

if that’s how they roll.

10- I yell at my kids,

but try to minimize that to

only once a day,

and even then I save the

really angry tone

for the big time

(like when they run in the street

and almost get hit by a car)

and then I hug them real tight

because I am so relieved that they didn’t get themselves killed.

All while secretly knowing

it wouldn’t have been themselves

to get themselves killed,

but my crappy parenting.

And there you have my worst fear.

I am totally anxious about my kids

growing up.

I don’t want them to be living proof

that I was the crappiest mom in the world.

Oh but Alice,

the only thing a parent needs

to be a good parent is love.

Well, if I could just convince myself of that

then I might be ready for what awaits me.

Please God, don’t let them go to jail

or get in a car accident

while not wearing their seat-belt.

The six cavities I can handle,

and the emotional immaturity,

and the inability to organize,

and the one who calls home from school once a week

because she needs more love,

and the whole nail polish kit

left outside for a week

with most of the caps off,

(they were outside because

they’ve been banned from inside)

the couches with marker stains,

the occasional B on a report card,

the one who is just like her dad,

and the other one who is just like her mom,

and the one who just never shuts up,

ever.

I can handle all of that,

and probably a lot more than I realize,

but my prayer

is that you don’t let any physical harm

come to them because of my

inabilities and weaknesses

and the fact that I didn’t want them

strapped to my chest

because I was just happy

for them to do their own thing.

So that I could do mine.

Please make sure your

guardian angels make up the difference.

Because really,

that’s all a mom can do.

Admit it.

Get over it.

And leave it in the hands of God.

Now, the way this works is you tell me something

about your parenting that makes you vulnerable

and then we leave our kids at home

with their dad while bonding over Olive Garden breadsticks.

You can tell me that you are really good at all of the above,

only if you are willing to dish out a list of 10 of your own

where you suck.

Because perfectionism is a myth,

and the sooner we all embrace that,

the happier we will be.

Book Review – Daring Greatly

This is a paid for review as part of BlogHer BookClub.

Getting paid to read a book that I would have been

snatching off the shelf anyhow is a very proud moment for me.

Do you want to change the world?

Do you want to have more powerful interpersonal relationships?

Do you want to explore into your own soul

to make sense of your life?

Do you want to live whole-hearted?

Do you want to rid yourself from shame?

Do you want to understand men and women better?

Do you want to give your heart a hug?

I thought I would do something different this time and give you a list of questions for this book review. This book is so jam-packed with the “hard stuff” that I don’t even want to dare pretend that I get it all. I will be reading it repeatedly until I have absorbed and memorized every nugget of wisdom. I wish every other person on the planet would do the same. It would seriously bring world peace and most certainly would give everyone inner peace. I’m not kidding, It’s that powerful.

I was proud to be a part of this book campaign. I was thrilled. I mean I jumped up and down when I got the e-mail confirmation and cooked a fancy dinner for my family when it arrived in the mail. I have been pouring over its pages and sharing parts with my hubby every chance I get. I have compromised my facebook relationships with the overabundance of quotes from this book. I just can’t stop. It’s too totally amazing not to share. YOU HAVE TO READ THIS BOOK. If you don’t want to buy your own copy, borrow mine. I can’t share it though for at least another month until I have it memorized.

I had a powerful experience at work last night, using the principles learned in this book. I was substitute teaching a class at the therapeutic boarding school where I work. I gave the kids a reward for every half an hour of hard work. We listened to a song of their choice (with my approval). One boy chose a powerfully emotional song about a girl who wanted to be with her dying boyfriend forever. I loved it. Another boy in the class didn’t. He started to shame the song choice kid. I stopped him and talked with the whole class about “shaming” and talked with them about giving people space to be who they are, even if they are wrong or different. I then turned to the shamer, and told him how much I loved him and admired him and that I would hope other people would give him space to love what he loved. He got teary-eyed. He turned to the other kid and said, “Dude, I am so sorry, I don’t like that song, but it’s cool if you do.”

World peace, people. World peace.

A huge thanks to marriage counselor friend John Morgan who turned me on to Brene Brown just months ago. He shared with me her talks from Ted. I was hooked. Brene is a researcher and has a PHD and LMSW. Her life’s work is shame and vulnerability. Here are her videos. Watch them both. Come back if you have to. They will make you understand why you need to read this book. Even if you aren’t into that psychological mumbo-jumbo, you need to be.

CameraMan

Sing us a song

you’re the cameraman.

LG bought me a new camera

and signed me up for a photography class.

He’s so amazingly awesome.

I love it that he pays attention to my bucket list.

We went to a free rooftop concert on Friday night.

It was super crowded.

We couldn’t get anywhere near the stage,

so we found a secluded corner of the parking garage.

We listened to the great music

with a bird’s eye view of the stage.

And we made out all night.

Just like being teenagers.

It was awesome.

I know are sad that you weren’t invited to the party.

Don’t worry.

We played with the camera too.

Captured some goodies just for you.

Oh, how I LOVE this man.

Every day just gets better.

And now you see why I need a photography class.

How the heck do I make these photos larger

without distorting them?

It”ll have to wait.

I have to go to work.

Guest Post: Sonja Herbert

Remember the book review I did for Carnival Girl?

I know it’s been a while, but I really did love the book and I wanted to give you all your own inside scoop about the author Sonja Herbert who has so generously offered to guest post.

Isn’t she so cute?

In my previous blog post, I mentioned how much I struggled with Sonja’s mother’s negativity in motherhood. I think Sonja gave me a greater appreciation for her mom with this write-up.

When I was a little girl, traveling in our small carnival caravan, I often listened to my mother talking
about how she used to be a model in Berlin, the greatest city of Europe, and how she had to leave and
hire on with the circus in order to stay ahead of the Nazis.

During the few times we carnival children attended school, I once received an A for a story about a
Greek myth I had written, and on that day I decided to write about my mother’s life when I grew up.

All through the time I raised my six children here in the U.S.A., this thought was with me, and when the
younger ones were a bit older, I started on my mother’s story. As the story unfolded, I realized that it
would not be complete unless I also told my own story, the story of my childhood and my life with my
mother.

Life in the caravan growing up with Mutti.

And that’s how Carnival Girl began. I originally called it Conversations with Margot (my mother’s first
name), but since the novel I wrote about her life isn’t quite finished yet, I decided to re-name the
memoir and publish it first.

As I wrote the memoir and remembered the things that happened in my early life, old feelings returned,
and I had to confront the childish assumptions of my younger self. Now, as a grown woman, I am able
to see things I had not seen as a little girl, and when my memoir was finished, I had a new insight and
understanding for my mother, who had suffered so much and still came out ahead.

My mother, Margot, is now ninety-one years old. She lives in Stuttgart, Germany, and is still going
strong!

Thank you Mutti, for everything you have taught me!

Thank you Sonja for sharing even more
of your insight with us.

Where Jesus Eats

My friend Amanda is an amazing person. I mean an AMAZING person. I feel so privileged that not only did our paths cross while I lived in Tennessee, but that we became good friends. She, like many other Tennesseans, is exceptionally spiritual and extraordinarily kind.

Back in the beginning of 2012 (yes this post has been sitting in my inbox for that long) Amanda won a contest put on by a local radio station.

“What would she do with 500 chicken

sandwiches from Chick-Fil-A?”

Her winning answer will tell you much more about the kind of person Amanda is than I ever could.

“Distribute them to the homeless in Knoxville.”

It was no surprise that her answer won from all the entries. Chick-fil-A is well known as a Christian establishment and I am sure whoever chose the winner of the contest, chose correctly in Amanda. The homeless population is extremely high in K-town.

Here is a photo from back in February, of Amanda’s three kids handing out sandwiches.

Amanda explained to me that she had romanticized the whole thing thinking she could pray with each individual and tell them that people cared about them.

Instead her mini-van was mobbed until every last scrap was gone (including her kids lunchbox leftovers) in only a minute and that they were then asked to leave by The Salvation Army who informed them that they were breaking some kind of law.

Amanda and I exchanged an e-mail the other day. I wanted to make sure she was still o.k. with me writing about her experience after all the backlash Chick-Fil-A had received lately. Here is her response,

“Thanks for reminding me of promises, I’d made 6 months ago. It’s so easy to let our personal busy take over and not do good on the follow-through. I don’t mind a bit if you blog about it and I’m not worried about any backlash. God’s got this and He will get all the glory. What we did with Chick-Fil-A was not a publicity or political statement it was a chance to love on people in a very real, practical way.” I just LOVE that Amanda. I love how much she cares for others. I love how much she gives her life to others. I love that she is always actively looking for ways to help others and that she goes around constantly making promises to God, even if it will be hard to keep them. I love it that her “fail” is mightier than anyone else’s “success.”

Real quick I wanted to share a funny story that Amanda told me:

This weekend I was privileged to spend 3 days with our Middle School Ministry at our church. We had this incredible speaker, Acton Bowen. Acton is a past youth minister, speaker, and Christian correspondant for Fox News. He was talking about meeting with one of his friends who was a member of the Black Ops team in the US Armed forces and telling of his many missions. Acton said that they met at Chick-Fil-a which is “where Jesus eats”.

You all can hate on a place because of their stance on gay marriage, that is your prerogative, but please realize that this restaurant is a lot like Amanda. They are always doing a whole lot of good. Oh, and their food is also like Amanda too:
A – MAZ – ING!

Here are a few other good recent news stories about Chick-Fil-A.

Here is a recent car-line in Waynesboro, VA taken by my cousin Jarrett. Chick-fil-A had committed a good portion of their profits to the family of Ethan Blevins, who had recently passed from leukemia complication.

How about the time they opened their doors with free meals to police officers after the Colorado movie theater shootings?

As for me? I love my gay friends. I truly do.
But I want to eat where Jesus eats
and I hope they can be o.k. with it.

For some chick-fil-a funny,
check out this old post.

How to run.

I’ve had several friends ask me to clue them in on the “how” of my transformation from couch potato to runner. This post is for them and anyone else who can use it.

How to run.

1. Put on a good bra. (This may be important for some of you men out there too.)
2. Put on appropriate attire.
(I prefer to be as covered as possible while still being comfortable and appreciate that in other runners, but if you are the kind of person who needs to flaunt it for some type of external motivation, more power to you, but you probably need therapy. How about you therapy folks just do what I did, start running in November in Utah, then we can all be happy.)
3. Wear good socks.
4. Lace up your shoes.
5. Go outside.
6. Walk for a little while. (Like a couple blocks or a couple of weeks or a couple of months.)
7. Realize your body can do more than walk.
8. Start walking faster.
9. Get sick of the burn in your butt and thighs from speed walking, and pick up the pace just a bit more.
10. Appreciate the fact that you are now jogging.
11. Jog until you get tired, which in the beginning may be a block or a half-block or a half of a half-block.
12. Slow to a walk, and take some time to rest your heart. Then make yourself jog some more.Do this until your allotted exercise time is up. Make sure it is at least for a half an hour, but an hour makes it more fun. Quit for the day. Walk back home. (If you are smart you would have turned back toward home halfway into your allotted time)
13. Memorize the spots where you started to jog and the spots that you just had to stop.
14. Two days later, walk to the same spot in #11, and when you get there, see if you can jog a little farther this time. (Yes, when you are a runner, you get a day in between runs to rest!)
15. Repeat #8-14, for as long as it takes.
16. Sign up for a 5k.
17. One day decide that you aren’t going to stop jogging until you hit the 3.2 mile mark.
18. Congratulate yourself because you are now more than a jogger. You are a real runner.
19. Repeat #16-18, as you will want need a faster time and there’s no better motivator than a race.
20. Somewhere along the way, you will find that 3.2 is just not long enough, and you will keep running past the 3.2 mark, you will change your running routes to work in hills, you will have used up 3 pairs of shoes, you will run at different times of the day, you will be working your running into your schedule like it’s your 5th child, you will love every second of solace, you will enjoy every time you feel winded and just have to spit or get a drink, you will love the hills, you will love the down-hills, you will watch your shadow day after day, you will be cranky if you haven’t had a run in over 2 days, you will run with friends (maybe only at races), you will stay after the races just to hang out with other runners even though you never win a prize, you will find yourself to be one of those obnoxious ladies at the baby shower who is suddenly surrounded by other runners comparing speed work techniques and running times and injury management, you will exceed your race goal and wonder if you are ready for the half yet, you will wonder why in the world you didn’t start sooner, and most of all you will be hooked for life.

To this I solemnly swear.
Amen.

Just do it.
Running is cheap and takes little coordination.
All that is required is mind over matter.
I wouldn’t call it easy, but if it was easy then it wouldn’t be so awesome.
It does get easier the more you do it.
I’m not going to lie, it also gets harder, but that is the miracle of it, the harder it becomes, the better equipped you are to handle it, which means you are STRONGER!