Northeast Road Trip

Drove up through New England to RI, then on to Belmont, Vermont (near Springfield, new hometown of the Simpsons), back to RI, then to Orange County, NY, farm and orchard country west of NYC. The sky in Vermont is amazing -- the clouds and color blue are definitely different there. And of course, RI is always wicked nice...

In order, these are the pond at the farm in NY; cows hanging out; a quiet dawn in RI; the house where I stayed in VT, and the local church just down the road. See what I mean about the sky?

I did a 16-mile run at the farm. We have a four mile loop from our front porch, past the farm next door, past lots of other farms, the town park, a cemetary full of gravestones with Polish names, and a Jewish cemetary directly across the street (on Spanktown Road, I'm not kidding about the name); past the "Sobiak Estate," our next door neighbors who carved that name in their stone pillars, just in case anyone doubted that their little piece of heaven was a bona fide estate, and back to our front door.

I ran around that sucker four times. Pancho was nice enough to do the two middle ones with me; for the first and last I listened to several episodes of Speaking of Faith, a great show about religion and spirituality on American Public Radio. I insisted he not accompany me on the final lap as I was feeling pretty cranky by then. I was trying hard to remember why in God's name I was doing this incredibly stupid thing. I don't even LIKE running! He helpfully reminded me it was so I could check it off "the list." Oh yeah, that.

The last mile or two, I swear all I could do was put one foot in front of the other and try not to cry or fall down. I hated that gravelly, uneven road. I hated my shoes and how they rubbed my throbbing feet in a very wrong way. I got a cramp in my side and had to walk for just a minute extra a couple of times during my walk breaks. But I kept going, and step by step, yard by yard I made it around that last stinking lap. I had been run/walking steadily for three hours and 10 minutes.

When I finished and had recovered slightly, I immediately called Jane. I think she'd been half expecting, or perhaps half fearing I would drop out at this point. I've heard that's pretty common when you get into double digit mileage, usually because of injuries. Jane says now that I've done 16, I can and will definitely finish the marathon. Suddenly those last few miles didn't seem nearly as bad, and in fact, I distinctly remembered feeling much worse at the end of the 14 miler two weeks before.

I'd been really nervous about running that huge distance alone. Now the 18 we have to do this coming Friday doesn't seem nearly as intimidating. I think 16 was a big turning point, maybe the point of no return. For the first time, I can see actually finishing this thing, which would be a surprising and wondrous event, a real red letter day. And just what the doctor ordered as this year 2007 winds down, having had more than its share of wild and woeful ups and downs.

14 Miles!

I ran FOURTEEN miles today, an all-time distance record for me and my very tired body! So although there were sadly no balloons or cheering crowds when I finished -- just Jane, my fabulous, energizer-bunny-running-machine training partner and new best pal (I love you, Jane!) -- I finally ran that damn half marathon, and then some. I am so psyched, and so sore I can barely walk. But that's what Advil's for, and I'll be fine -- and still psyched -- in the morning.

The funny thing is, I felt the exact same way for the last two miles -- like I wanted to quit, or die, at every step -- that I felt two weeks ago during our TWELVE mile run. So that's progress. And now I know I'll feel this way again in two more weeks during our 16 mile run. And then 14 won't seem so bad. I got to 12 today and thought, "Hey, not bad at all this time." So maybe this training thing actually works, huh?

Jane keeps telling me I must not think about how many miles we'll run before we start, or how many more we have to go, once we're running. She says our limits are always just beyond what we've done. She's a regular runner-philosopher, that Jane is. We take full advantage of these hours on the trail to solve all the world's problems, and of course hash out our own as well. It is a wonderful and very cheap form of therapy -- an added bonus to the joy of breaking my own personal records, which hopefully will continue to happen every two weeks for the next few months.

Please see the comments below for another good one from my faithful (and always pithy) correspondent Agent 26, aka Ginny, and my response to her very interesting question.

Summer Ramblings

I continue to have to force myself to write on this blog. My heavy heart these days just doesn't seem to go well with lighthearted blog fare. But as any writer will tell you or me, you've gotta keep writing anyway. Just GET IT OUT, as Hannah always says --vomit it up onto the page and worry about what it looks like later. Lovely image, isn't it?

But the idea is a good one. I sometimes have a hard time writing about the heavier side of life, the darker side of my brain, as if my job is to amuse and uplift, instead of just to write. Why I feel this way, in my writing and in my relationships, is perhaps a good question for another day. Right now I just need to write.

Sharon's funeral last Saturday was a heart-wrenchingly, heart-breakingly sad affair. The minister was Ok, although I definitely felt there was too much emphasis on God, on Jesus and on what he wants or what he means. But thankfully there was also plenty of emphasis on Sharon, on who she was and what she means, which offset the god stuff in a very positive way.

The family had sent an email around inviting anyone who wanted to talk about Sharon at the service to prepare something and let them know. I couldn't imagine how anyone could do that, honestly. So at the service when I saw her daughter Laura stand up, cross before Sharon's flower-draped coffin and head to the alter, the very first one to speak, I was astonished and amazed.

That 18-year-old girl gave her mother the most wonderful eulogy -- she got through the entire thing without falling apart, and she did her very strong and loving mother proud. She finished by telling us how at the end she asked Sharon if she was scared, and Sharon responded, "No, are you?" When Laura said yes, Sharon asked her what she was afraid of. Laura said, "I'm scared because you're my mommy and I need you." And Sharon told her, "No you don't. You'll be just fine."

That is exactly what Laura needed to hear, that she was strong enough to handle this and would indeed be just fine. Sharon gave her that one final gift, the confidence to go it alone. To survive the incredible grief of losing her mother and go off to college and be fine. Sharon was so brave and smart and such a wonderful mother, right to the very end.

Maddie left for a month of summer camp on Sunday, and I had a particularly difficult time letting her go. She loves camp and I know she'll be fine (as long as she doesn't get too involved with any of the boys!) but when I think about how short Sharon's illness was, a month seems like an awfully long time to let your child -- and youngest child -- go.

Since then things have been pretty quiet around here. My work clients have been otherwise occupied and not in need of my services so I've had some time to catch up, get organized and work on my own writing. I've had fun compiling quotations as headings for each of my chapters, and I've continued with the actual story.

I had coffee with another local writer who I met through a neighbor, and she invited me to join her writers' group in DC, as well as form another one with her here in Northern Virginia. She attended a publishers conference in NYC this summer and pitched her book, and several agents want to see the first three chapters. She now wants to rework the whole thing before sending it to them.

That prompted me to go back and read my story, which I found full of gaps in what's driving my character. I know her so well I have to remember that my readers do not. So I've added some more stuff about her background, thoughts and motivations, and plan to add even more. But I am the queen of rewriting and have to force myself to also just get the story down and keep moving FORWARD.

I leave next week for a sojourn in the northeast: driving first to Rhode Island for a short visit with my old pal (since high school!) Denise, then driving to Vermont with my old pal (since grammar school!) Meg, to stay with my other old pal (and Meg's sister) Nanci, who rented a big cool farmhouse for a month while home from Cairo, where she lives. Then back to RI to visit my mom and the rest of the Beauregard clan for a few days, then driving to the farm in New York for a week of quiet R & R, and hopefully lots of writing.

Oh, and a milestone this week: I played my first round of 18 holes of golf, albeit very very badly. I played nine holes last Sunday and another nine Tuesday night, so with the 18 on Wednesday I played 36 holes in one week -- woo hoo! I totally, embarassingly STINK but I just LOVE the game, even though it makes you want to kill yourself 90% of the time. Hitting a great shot is like a drug -- once you experience it you want so so bad to get that feeling back again. And hitting dirtball after dirtball makes you question your entire worth as a person and purpose on this earth, truly.

Ok, as you can see, when I titled this post a ramble, I meant it. But I think it has served its purpose. Time to get back in the saddle and on with the job at hand -- life, for one thing, and the writing life, for another. Time to buck up and get the work done. Happy trails.