Legacy of Love

My dad's "Heaven Day" anniversary is Aug 14th. He was not perfect. He was flawed. He made mistakes. But in the end, he lived a good life. I wrote him a letter six months before he died on Valentines Day. For his memorial service I read a short introduction and the letter to our family and friends. He would be 85 this year.

Here it is....

~Kathy~

Several years ago my dad turned seventy. We wanted to make that night a special one to honor him and we wanted to create a memory. Not only, I remember my sister Paula saying, for my dad and mom, or “us” (his kids), but for our children, HIS grandchildren. We set about preparing the evening in “Chuck Fehely”-style, which included the foot-long hot dogs and angel food cake. The stage had the perfect homey feel to it: a clothesline running the length of the exterior of our house, multiple strands of white lights and a backdrop of colorful quilts. We had our very first annual “Fehely Talent Show.” I use the word, “Talent” quite liberally for the majority of us: yes, we sang, we kazooed, we drummed and strummed, danced, recited and even performed fake raspberries to one of grandpa’s favorite tunes. It was, by all of our “Reflective Fehely” standards, a perfect night. To conclude the evening we gave dad letters where we wrote to him, telling how much we loved him, how proud we were to be his kids citing special gestures, expressions or stories about him that we enjoyed.

~I’m going to stop this description for a moment to say that birthday evening was not unlike what we’ve tried to create here today, a lovely memory for all of us, bragging about this amazing man, and I know he would have LOVED this…. because he loved all of YOU so much~

Well for some reason, I never gave my dad a letter that night. I had been a little busy, but the truth was, I just needed more time to marinate on how to put into words all of the feelings and expressions of love that I wanted to paint for my dad. This February, I finally gave him that letter and it is what I am going to read to you today. When I gave it to him, I gave it quietly with just he and my mom there. I then let him read it privately. I knew it meant something because my mom said he had tears streaming down his face (but a little known secret to outsiders is that my dad is a sentimental crybaby).  When I REALLY knew it meant something, was when we shared his scrapbook with me and I found the letter in it.

 Legacy of Love~

Today I am writing a letter to you, my dad, otherwise known as Charles Frank Fehely. “Charlie” or “Chuck” to some, but dad or grandpa to the rest of us…

There is a moment when those of us who are teachers, well, where we would use the term “teachable moment” -the kind of moment when it feels almost supernatural or “spiritual” in the classroom. It could be some kind of conflict on the playground, national or world events, it could simply be a story you’ve just read to your students or the way a class conversation has headed in a new direction…as a teacher you know this is “it,” a teachable moment. Dad, as I think of your life, and your current battle with cancer, and how as your daughter I have witnessed who you are, I realize I am here…I am currently living the reality of a “teachable moment.” I can use this moment to write about you, let you know how much I love you and let you know how you are a teacher to everyone who surrounds you.

Dad you are leaving all of us a “Legacy of Love” that spans across all ages, races and religions. The “Legacy” you have left me is an example of how I want to live my own life. It begins with mom:

You and mom have a love that is tangible, real. If you look at the DVD we made, I want you to notice and pay close attention to you and mom: the looks you give one another, the chemistry you have and the love you so obviously feel for one another. For all of your children, grandchildren, friends & family you’ve left a “Legacy of Love” for one’s spouse. Growing up we all felt it, we were lucky to have been raised by parents that loved one another…who weathered some storms but who mainly lived with sunnier times. Even now, your love for one another can only be summed up as miraculous and a testimony to each of us, your children. You are both my heroes by the love you have for one another.

Dad you’ve also left a “Legacy of Love” for each of us: Mike, Paula, Laura, and myself. Growing up we all felt your love and pride. You were at all of our events, and as we became adults that circle grew: football, synchronized swimming, baseball, plays, musicals, church events, school and more. As we married, and yes, even divorced & dated, your legacy spread to a preschool teacher, a plumber, a man in retail, a firefighter and currently, a man in investment. Your love expanded to each of us as we “grew up” over the years. And to know you, is to know your pride for all of us, even today.

The “Legacy of Love,” of course, includes your nine grandchildren: Ryan, Jill, Morgan, Evan, Brad, Tommy, Troy, Shelby and Mary. Your love includes all of their collective interests, hobbies, sports, and more: football, swimming, soccer, lacrosse, 4-H, music, dancing, vintner studies, construction management, plumbing, the discussion of sports pages, religious beliefs and more. We recently celebrated your birthday. While doing so, we all created the gift for you that listed all of the reasons we loved you so much. In it, each of your nine grandchildren expressed how they felt special, unique and loved just for being themselves. On a side note: your legacy rubbed off on your wife because when we made her a similar gift your grandchildren felt the same way about their grandma. They all felt, and feel, loved by both you and mom.

Your “Legacy of Love” also includes a circle of people that aren’t quite blood-related but that the term “friends” doesn’t quite cover, it is simply too broad. Specifically your “Legacy of Love” included young lives. Judy Rodriquez, whom you walked down the aisle for her wedding, would fit this circle. John Berry, who moved into our house when he was a senior at CV High and we, the “Fehely” kids were still quite little. This circle included all of your players that you took to college games to expand their dreams. It included the united work of mom baking her Jet Pride cookies for the players of the week. The meager earnings you made while coaching or teaching were spent building dreams for these kids, blending your belief in the saving grace of sports and most importantly, your faith in young people.

You had two careers in my lifetime and your love included all your co-workers from both. You remained friends with the men and women you worked with as a probation officer, and the friends you later made while coaching and teaching, being an athletic director. Your friendships were an example of love: you still remain friends with boys from grammar school, junior and senior high school, your days in the Army, semi-pro football, and, as mentioned, through the Alameda County Probation Department and the halls of Encinal, Menlo Atherton and Castro Valley High. It includes friends with conservative beliefs in Contra Costa County and liberal ones from Alameda. It includes men, and women, of every race and every economic class: both rich and poor. An early memory I have of you is calling friends up to arrange time together: Saturday football, drafts, tennis matches, basketball games, lunch, dinner, golf, vacations and more. When I was in high school or college trying to decide what to do on a rare free Saturday night, I would think of your ability to create times together with all of your many friendships. I would then pick up the phone myself to plan some grand adventure of my own, mimicking your actions. Your “Legacy of Love” includes your friends and how you see them as an extension of our family.

As stated earlier, your “Legacy of Love” includes your spouse, my mom, your children and grandchildren, friends & co-workers. However, your “Legacy” also involves your Faith. You were quiet about it, but it is real. If I remember correctly, you grew up with a father who was an atheist and a mother who you used to say was a “good Christian woman” and whom you sweetly regarded as a saint. It wasn’t until you attended St. Mary’s College that I think you really found God. You became a Catholic…but really, for you, it was about getting a relationship with God at that point, a conscious decision. There were times in your life when you have been upset with decisions the Church has made and you would not attend for a while. In more recent times you’ve begun attending services again. The thing is, each of us, your children, have been allowed and encouraged to develop our own faith in God. Anyone who has been in attendance at our family events: birthdays, holidays and gatherings, they would know we have a tradition where we stand in a giant circle holding hands. You lead us in a prayer…I use that term loosely because really, your eyes are open and sometimes it’s more like you are preaching to us or sharing some of life’s lessons. Sometimes there are tears, usually there is laughter, but always there is love. You shared a story with us at Christmas that involved your Faith. You talked about your love for all of us:  mom, each of your children, grandkids and then you talked about how you get through your radiation treatments. You shared how when you are lying there; wearing your mask like a Phantom of the Opera character partaking in an act you really didn’t like and how the claustrophobic feelings could potentially take over. You talked about how you would then think about (or imagine) each of us: wife, children & spouses, and grandchildren surrounding you in prayer. Your faith is what seems to get you through the awful parts of your cancer treatments.

You are my dad, the teacher, and you have left me a “Legacy of Love” in nearly all areas of life: your love for my mom, kids, grandkids, friends, family, work and faith. Your latest teaching lesson, the “teachable moment” I am writing about today is this: that although you won’t always be physically present, your love, your “Legacy of Love,” will always be right here, in my heart. My memories of growing up with you and your “Legacy” will serve as an example to me for years to come. Your “Legacy of Love,” really is just that, a legacy for all of us in the “Fehely Family” to be inspired and to try and our lives in the same fashion. 

Love to you, Kathy

Transitions: A Perfect Night

Transitions are not always easy.Take childbirth, for example. For me, the transition was the worst part. Not back labor. Not pushing. Not even record-breaking head sizes or shoulders. With the birth of each of my three children, the transitions were the most unpleasant part. I mean literally and figuratively.

Most people that know me, and know that I'm a teacher, would be surprised to learn that I said I never wanted children while growing up. That is not cool to admit when you're a mom, but there you have it. I think it is because I was the fourth of four kids. I could see it was work.

I didn't want to get a Mrs. degree either. At least until I was old, like, you know, in my forties. 

I grew up in a very typical town at that time. Most of my peers married young. In my journey I found God and my faith and then wound up in love and married by the age of 22. I had become a teacher. I loved children. My husband I both came from big families and wanted one too, so by the age of 30 we had three kids. 

Now I'm in transition. 

My youngest daughter turned 21 yesterday. The weather was mild and lovely. There was a birthday tiara made of succulents, flowers and feathers and a "Birthday Girl" sash worn while we celebrated. We had brunch with her sister in San Francisco. We shared a beer with their childhood friend. There was a birthday cupcake for photos mixed with a little moodiness when one of us got tired or hungry. We were joined by her brother and the four of us went to a concert in Berkeley. It was a perfect day.

While the band was performing, I laid down on the grass and closed my eyes. My kids thought I was falling asleep and took turns putting their hands over my face. I was remembering a time in our past. It was almost as if we were lying back under the Magnolia tree, a pile of four bodies and quilts, pillows, stuffed animals, flashlights and picture books. And a small dog, he was there too. I could remember for a moment, what the chill in the air felt like if a foot poked out of the edge of the blanket, the kids nudging and bickering. The stars dotting the sky. It was a perfect day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As far as my parenting goes when my kids were very small, I don't have many regrets.  

I can say my kids went to bed at a too-early-for-them-but-kept-mom-sane hour. They had three meals a day with a protein, a vegetable and a starch. We did not always eat dessert but they would get woken up on occasion for their birthday and get to eat the corner piece of the birthday cake, a cookie or a slice of apple or pumpkin pie. They were always well-dressed and did some kind of exercise every day. As babies they were carried or biked or pushed in a stroller to concerts, museums, parks, sporting venues and shopping. This was replaced by family biking, swimming, walks and even dancing in the park for summer concerts. They talked about their highs and their lows of the day at the dinner table. They were read bedtime stories every night and said their prayers cuddled in bed. They played dress-up, make-believe, baked elaborate sugar cookies for every holiday and had tea parties, with real food. There were dolls and superheroes and fairytales. There was a co-op preschool with a mom and a dad who volunteered, as well as field trips with both. There were cousins, lots of them. And with the cousins came holidays, birthdays, many days in the park, playing at one another's houses and vacations mostly in Tahoe or Yosemite. They camped in tents and trailers and even in the backyard on a blue tarp with the stars overhead canopied by an old magnolia tree. There were special late nights to go to the midnight book sale parties for the latest Harry Potter edition. And there were more late nights involving movie releases as the clock struck 12 on several Thursdays. They had Survivor dinners of pineapple, rice and other island foods and there were forts in the family room left up overnight. As they grew older and expressed an interest they played soccer, basketball, lacrosse, baseball, competed in Irish dancing, bowling, scouting and 4-H. They debated. They sewed. There were crafts and kites and fishing. There were boo-boos and kisses and hugs and love.

I'd like to think it was a mostly-good childhood for all three kids, despite my shortcomings.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As we were leaving the concert and headed to our car late last night we were reflecting on the evening.  "I know you thought I was falling asleep on the grass but I wasn't. I was pretending I was camping in the backyard with the three of you under the Mag-no-li-a," my voice stammered. "Under the Magnolia tree," I finished saying, while choking up.

My kids looked at me, concern on their faces. 

I smiled at them, wiping my tears. 

They started groaning and laughing. They weren't being mean. They were rolling their eyes and exchanging the oh-my-God-would-you-look-at-our-dorky-sappy-mom-but-we-love-her looks with one another.

I started laughing through my tears and we all kept walking.

I think the Head And The Heart song called "Let's Be Still" has one stanza that perfectly states how I felt while lying down at that concert:

The world's just spinning

A little too fast

If things don't slow down soon we might not last

So just for the moment, let's be still

I think, for me, transitions will continue to be one of my least favorite things. But I view last night's as a gift. It was a perfect night.

The Plastic Baggie

So I have a confession to make. 

Yesterday I drove down to Felton to spend the night at my dear friend Adria's house. She has a smart, savvy four year old girl, Ayla. Ayla was asleep when I arrived so Adria and I had several hours to catch up on various goals, dreams, aspirations, a few failures and in matters of the heart. 

Adria would tell you she lives pretty simply. I see she eats organic healthy foods and uses cloth napkins. She has a garden where she uses the compost she's made from her leftovers. She is strong and athletic and is a female firefighter. She is independent and smart and feminine and once again made me marvel at her maturity and wisdom despite being younger in years. Her healthy natural beauty is only surpassed by her lovely inner qualities. I see this demonstrated by how she patiently and tenderly cares for her daughter.  I hear this by how she reacted with another woman recently in a very trying situation. She let the amazing shared spirit of sisterhood take precedence over a wrong done to her. 

I love Adria and she is one of my favorite people. 

In the morning, Ayla and I played while Adria cooked breakfast. We played with wooden tangram puzzles and make-believe games of Beauty Parlor and Halloween. I was reminded with a tug of my heart how my own girls and son would play similarly when they were little. Many adventures with Barbies and Robinhood, Batman and princesses were created on Fairway Dr with my kids. We had tea parties and baking and coloring and painting and drawing, climbing, building and assembling. When my youngest daughter played Beauty Parlor with me my scalp hurt a lot more and her devilish laugh would coincide with the tight twists of the comb or the many clips. Ayla was a kinder, gentler beautician but still I remembered what it was like with fondness. 

It was much chillier than we had anticipated the day before so I put on all the layers of clothes I had packed wearing bike shorts with a skirt over it, a tank top, long-sleeved shirt and a vest. I wore a headband beneath my bike helmet and though it was not sunny I wore glasses as a shield for my eyes and my thickest pair of wool socks. Adria and Ayla were similarly dressed, but only after a little struggle as Ayla was asserting her independence by choosing what to wear. Adria was a master of negotiation and soon Ayla had on leggings and layers and a cozy coat. I then recalled how I teasingly used to say I wanted to market buttons to pin on my children that would read, "I dressed myself" as a disclaimer as they asserted their independence, just as Ayla was doing.

Adria assembled a tasty lunch and packed it along with all of the gear necessary to pull Ayla on her bike trailer called a Weehoo. It's a bigger endeavor than some would attempt but Ayla, Adria and I had gone on a similar ride last month and we all looked forward to our day. I followed in my own car with my bike and gear so I could go home directly after our riding. While we were driving I was remembering the children's seat I had attached to the back of a bike I owned when my children were babies. Later it was replaced by a Burley bike trailer which I used to pull two children at times, as well as swimsuits, towels and food for the day while we hung out at the nearby neighborhood swim club. I remembered sometimes passing golfers in a nearby private golf course a development over and they would comment that I must be the babysitter not the mommy. At the time I was too tired or happy to be outside and aware they were too old to be bothered by the comments. But for today I remembered a string of outings involving my children and bikes and realized this love I have for my two-wheeled friends is not a new love, it's simply a renewed one.  

Just before we started our pedaling, Ayla asked if she could eat a snack while riding. Adria complied and gave her a choice of apple slices or a healthy trail mix with nuts and a few tiny, dark chocolate squares. Ayla chose the trail mix. 

We pedaled across a bridge, along the river with a few shady characters, and then past the Santa Cruz Boardwalk until we reached the path along the ocean's edge where all of the surfers were gathered. It was not as crowded on the road as it had been last month and we were traveling at a steady clip.

That is the excuse I will use as to what I did next. 

The thing I did was nothing. 

I saw Ayla's plastic baggies blow out of the Weehoo and onto the road. Adria was ahead and I did not want to stop in the street to get the baggie and fall behind as we had just stopped to take off a layer of clothing.  There was a person walking and I reasoned with myself that they would pick up the baggie. 

Still, I felt guilty. I should have stopped but I didn't.

But then it got worse. 

We arrived at Wilder Ranch, now a state park. We parked our bikes and were unpacking the lunch and walking to the picnic table when Adria asked Ayla,  "Where  is your trail mix baggie?"

"I don't know, " Ayla said. 

 They discussed it further. 

"Have you seen the baggie?" Ayla asked.

"Yes, I saw it," I answered.  I avoided saying specifically that I had seen it blow out of the carrier and onto the pavement.  Ayla was concerned about the baggie but then joined her mommy at the table to begin eating lunch. I still felt guilty. 

We ate. Then we played. We climbed in the tree, walked in the magical bushes, sucked on the ends of the sour flowers and then fed the chickens. We got back on the bikes and visited the horses and saw a bobcat. 

Ayla wanted the rest of her apple slices, also in a baggie. She mentioned the missing baggie. Again. She looked right at me. "Did you see the baggie?" she asked innocently.

I avoided the question with a question, "Why don't we look for it on the way back? Maybe we can find it and pick it up?"

We headed up a big hill and then when we got to the top we realized Ayla had lost her water bottle. The one with a sippy spout and stickers from Trader Joe's on it. I volunteered to go back and re-ride our path at the ranch to find it. I zipped down the hill, I rode by the tree, the bushes, the barn, the port-a-potty, the chickens, the horses and darned if the bobcat hadn't appeared next to me again next to a group of quail. He was probably annoyed with me for thwarting his hunting twice that day. 

I could not find the bottle anywhere and headed up the small, steep hill toward the mother-daughter duo. And there was the water bottle, lying in the middle of the path. I stopped, picked it up and pedaled to my friends.

"Yay! I found it!" I smiled. "Now maybe we can find the baggie too!"

 Please God, I prayed.

We pedaled across the railroad tracks, down a street and along the ocean's path. All along I kept looking for that baggie.

Please let me find that baggie.

And then we pedaled around a curve and there along the edge of the curb, next to the path we had ridden earlier was the baggie. This time I was leading and stopped. "There it is! The baggie!" I exclaimed. 

Thank you, God, I prayed.

Now some will say it was a coincidence. Some would say it was a stupid baggie. Some would laugh, as my sister did when I told her this story over the phone tonight. 

Earlier I should have stopped but didn't. I should have said something but didn't. 

I've done that before in my life. Made mistakes.  

But here is the beautiful thing. I got a second chance to right the wrong. 

Sometimes we get a chance to right a wrong in a real, tangible way. Sometimes it is only through words. Or time. Or forgiveness, mainly to ourselves.

I got to remember today what it was like to play make-believe with my sister Laura. This time I got to remember all the good times, not the times I got angry and we fought. I got to remember what it was like as a young mommy and making lunches and snacks and packing up for adventures with a bike and Burley trailer with three kids or a giant red suburban filled with gear. I got to remember all the healthy things they ate and not the times when I let them eat something that was not organic before organic was the norm, or if I was tired or impatient, bored or cross. 

I'm going to remember today as a gift of memories of childhood, being a mommy and of second chances. 

Oh. And I have an empty baggie in my vest pocket that I'm going to throw away too. 

(Nearly) No Shopping for One Year

December 18th will mark the one year anniversary of my self-imposed, nearly no shopping challenge.

Why? I had bought a very sweet 1940's cottage and with that purchase came new light fixtures and re-wiring and appliances and paint and curtains and accessories. I also bought a new car. And I had done a great deal of training for an athletic event which required more purchases for fitness equipment, coaching and entry fees. I also had two children still in college. And I had a closet filled with cute, mostly-on-sale clothes and accessories. When I moved I had made numerous trips to the local thrift store with carloads of donations, I had given many items away to friends and family and had even left more on the curbside in a dumpster or as giveaways to neighbors. Even after giving away lots of stuff, I still had closets packed and a garage filled with more items. It made me sick to my stomach when I thought about it. 

Don't get me wrong, I have good stuff. Ask anyone. The recipients of my giveaways would agree. But I started realizing the more items I got rid of, the more I still needed to weed through and throw or giveaway. And I did not need to add anything. So after finishing up my Christmas shopping which more recently always included a few items for myself, I decided I wanted to just stop buying for one year. I wanted my children, who also have had the privilege of excess, see their mom not buy stuff too. 

I had a few rules for myself. I could buy gifts for others for birthdays, wedding, holidays, etc. I could also buy anything I really needed for myself that was for a physical necessity. I had broken my ankle and the truth was that a lot of shoes hurt me and if I wore them I felt it would slow down my healing process and I wondered if I would ever get to run again. I also told myself if I received gift certificates I could spend them if I wanted. I had my first out of the country trip planned sometime in the spring and I told myself I could buy items there too. 

Right away I was given some gift certificates during Christmas. Knowing that I would want to spend them wisely, I was careful. I remember I had one $50 gift card to the GAP. I was able to purchase a black and white striped skirt and two pairs of pants on sale and felt like I was really getting a good bargain. I also admit about 6 months later when I began to go through my closet in earnest, I gave away one of the pairs of pants. Why? They were too big and I had only worn them one time. I learned a good lesson: only buy items that fit well. Shoes cramp your toes? Do not buy them. Pants that are loosely comfortable in the dressing room will be sloppily baggy after one wearing. Take inventory of what you already own before you purchase anything new.

However, I did purchase some items. I bought two pairs of sandals for $14 apiece. I teach and all my other sandals, even the ones with small heels on caused my ankle to hurt. They were worth every penny. Before I went to Ireland I bought a really great waterproof raincoat. It only sprinkled one day as the Irish people said I brought the sun from California. Did I return the jacket when I returned? No. The truth is I plan to use it on other trips, especially ones while bike touring. I also had bought a comfy pair of black ballet shoes that I could wear during my trip. Sadly I left them in my hotel and had to replace them. I also bought an Irish knit sweater and poncho and a dress. I have worn all of those items numerous times and every time they remind me of my Irish holiday. I also purchased gifts for my loved ones while there. And that brought me joy. And I learned how to pack very light for a ten day trip so I would have room for the gift purchases. One day I swam before school. I went to get dressed and realized I left all my clothes at home, except for my baggy torn sweatpants which I had worn over my swimsuit. I had to make a quick run to a local store and found a simple black t-shirt dress for $29. I wore it a few times and ended up giving it to my youngest daughter.  Another time I was with my youngest daughter in Rockridge at a vintage clothing store. We pulled a lovely handmade black velvet dress off the rack that looked like it might be my size. I tried it on and it fit perfect and was only $40. I thought about it long and hard before I decided I could purchase it too. I do not claim to be perfect but I am practical. I knew I'd have some holiday parties and this dress would work. And when I grew tired of it some day I could easily resell it or give it away as it is a classic cut. I also bought a black dress at an outdoor clothing store that I can wear year-round and was on clearance. I have worn it no less than fifteen times and it is the kind of dress that won't really ever go out of style. I feel slightly guilty about it but not enough to have skipped purchasing it.

Even with all of my justifications I purchased far less than I would normally. I also found myself taking every item of clothing out of my closets and dressers, boxes and bins this past September. I gave away a few bags of items to my girlfriend. I gave away another couple to my sister-in-law and her sisters. I then filled up my car with the remainder of donations for my local thrift store. I had a friend who was available and I would take a photo of items and have her help me decide. Fortunately for me she was on a break between jobs and helped me with some tough decisions. I would be lying if I said I didn't take a few items from the give-away pile and place them back in my closet. But I would also be telling you the truth when I say I will go through it all again at the end of the next four seasons and purge again. 

I have gone through my garage twice to get rid of items. My friends and family will attest to the fact that I love to decorate for the holidays. This year for Halloween, rather than take down the four or more bins of decor, I hung one wreath and one banner. I displayed exactly three votives and purchased three pumpkins on my porch. The pumpkins will remain until Thanksgiving, if they don't spoil. I don't know that I will pull out the fall decor at all this year. It will depend on what I decide to do the week I have off. Will I spend a day decorating or a day hiking or running or biking? For Christmas I'm sure I will decorate as my youngest daughter has been away at college this year. But I'm not sure what will make it's way out of the garage and the bins and into the house. 

I do know this: I am sure I have more money, though the truth is I have spent the past months paying myself back for the trip I took to Ireland. It was worth it. I also began to pull out clothing from years ago and wear it in new and creative ways. I  like having less to choose from when I go to get dressed. I enjoy giving it away to friends and family who genuinely appreciate the gesture. I also have more time. I do not ever go window shopping or run into a store just because I have a free evening. Instead I read or write or go outside on an adventure or I call up a friend and spend time with them. 

I have learned that I have been a bit of a hoarder. It probably stems from being the fourth kid in my family and the third girl, wearing hand-me-downs and on-sale items growing up.

I think if you came over to look today, you'd be shocked at how much I still have inside my house, my garage and my closets. I feel better but I will continue to discard. And with each item I set aside, I know I will continue to feel lighter.  

When Dec 18th comes, friends have asked if I will run to the store for a shopping spree. The answer is no, with one exception which I will share about in another blog posting.  The fact is I'm sure I could go another year without purchasing one item and I would be fine. I know  I will never spend recklessly again. I will spend thoughtfully. Does it match items I already own or is it too similar? Does it fit? Will I wear it? Will I use it in my home? Is it timeless or if it's trendy, is it lower in cost because I know I won't be wearing it in a few years.

Overall I think it's been a good mindset to have and one that I will practice in my life moving forward.

I Love Lake Tahoe

I was driving in Tahoe for a training weekend and spotted
this bear. 

So I love Lake Tahoe. By love, I mean it’s always felt like home to me. Not a cabin. Not a location at the beach. The whole place. I grew up camping and skiing, fishing and swimming there.

When the World Triathlon Corporation announced they would host a new North American Ironman at Lake Tahoe I actually contemplated signing up. Me. Me who had never ever had a desire to race an entire Ironman race. I had completed a few sprint triathlons, an Olympic and International distance triathlon and had just completed a half-ironman distance. But a whole one? Me? Un uh. No way. But then Tahoe was announced.

I remembered years earlier, being a fit synchronized swimmer, competing at the National level. One summer I went to Northstar at Tahoe and ran a little 5K or 10K race with my dad. I was sure I would beat him, even though I never ran simply because I was fit. I was wrong. The altitude kicked my butt and it was hot and I had a splitting headache and my dad kicked my butt even more, with bragging rights for many years. But I also thought about my more recent accomplishments in Tahoe; mountain biking, road biking, running, swimming, kayaking, paddle boarding and decided if not now, when? Why not?

I trained hard. I took a summer off from teaching. I gave up a lot of social activities with friends, family and relationally in order to train. I was never going to win an award or set speed records but I wanted to give it my best shot.

Then I did a stupid move. I ran in my bike cleats to move my car and broke my ankle. Crap. I was out of the race just two weeks before it was held.

My mom had to drive me to
my doctor appointment. 

Smiling for my friend's husband while waiting for X-ray results. 

Watching all of my teammates at Ironman Lake Tahoe 2013.

My new goal was to heal and be able to move pain-free. I wanted to be able to swim, and bike and run and to hike and heck, I wanted to be able to walk without feeling pain or to not think about my ankle or be controlled by it. I aqua-jogged, I went to physical therapy, I swam using my arms only and I slowly biked. While sleeping I dreamt about trail running. I missed that the most I think. Me, the slow, non-runner grieved the loss of freedom while running on a dirt trail surrounded by beauty and being lost in thought.

 Slowly, slowly I regained the use of my body.  At first, I was on schedule and I would even venture to say ahead of what I thought I could do physically. But soon I found I had to pull back. I was pushing myself with the group, rather than listening to my own body and limits. I got a virus that lasted about three weeks and took what felt like months to fully recover, especially while riding my bike. I also had some financial choices to make and coaching was not one expense I could justify with the unexpected ones I had recently encountered. So reluctantly I pulled away.

Even so, I signed up for the Lake Tahoe Half Ironman. The goal to was to complete, not compete. I was swimming and biking and running my way to fitness again. Around that time period, a man I know who coaches asked me some very good questions, “Are you enjoying yourself? Are you having fun? Do you like doing the things you’re doing?” The fact is, I was. I did. It was because this time I had decided to rewrite my training to incorporate all the things I love, instead of sacrificing everything in the same manner I had the year before and this past winter.

Earlier, when I was trying to keep pace with everyone else, and pushing myself beyond what I should have at times, the answer was clearly no. I was kind of desperately moving forward, doing what I “should do” which meant getting up early despite having stayed up late and well, getting myself sick in the process.

This time I could answer, heck yes.

Pacifica mountain bike ride with a lovely view. 

Mondays were my day “off” and I decided to try and incorporate yoga. I was encouraged to use it to strengthen my ankle and eventually joined a yoga cooperative near my home. While improving the strength of both my ankle and my core I found the meditation at the end often even more beneficial. Breathing in. Breathing out. Being in the moment. Feeling feelings. Breathe again.

Lake Chabot

Tuesday night mountain bike friends.

Tuesdays I got to sleep in a little later and I then mountain biked in the evenings after work. I happened to have met an entirely new group of people while riding with another woman who was injured last year. She got a flat and as we were in the midst of changing it, this friendly, welcoming group of people came and helped finish the job. Then they asked us to bike with them. I haven’t looked back. Each week as our group rides and as the sunlight has gotten shorter, I have experienced new “firsts.” One ride in particular, was magic.  We saw many deer, a bobcat and a supermoon, while riding the entire way around the lake near my house in the dark wearing my Jetlites headlamp strapped to the top of my helmet.

Wednesdays involved two workouts: swimming and running. I switched up the times and locations but slowly got where I could kick again while swimming and run without walking at a decent, if not record-breaking clip. I did not join my race club’s track workouts though, I told myself I would work on speed and cadence after the Half Ironman and once I was consistently pain-free. For right now, I just needed to run and slowly increase my time and distances. I worked my way up to over two hours for running and over eleven miles of trail running.

Commuting to work via BART is ALWAYS
interesting; once I was stuck in the elevator
in the heat and once I got stuck on a train. 

Thursdays I commuted on my heavy cross check touring bike. I would either ride to BART and work and then ride the entire way home or do the reverse. There is a decent climb going in either direction while lugging my pannier of clothes, food and work items and I had the added benefit of feeling good about not driving my car, at least one day a week, sometimes two. It meant an early morning alarm in order for me to ride to work on time and I always arrived sweaty. I had to give myself a sponge bath at work but it was so worth it. I felt empowered or in my happy place after starting the day riding. I have also sadly learned about road rage and drivers not paying attention and almost hitting me and needing to drive more defensively, always on the lookout for car doors opening, cars pulling out before looking left again and reading ugly postings on friends’ Facebook pages about wanting to kill bicyclists. On the reverse, I’ve had friends wanting to blow through stop signs while riding and I guess I can say I can see both points of view. If everyone would just obey the rules…

Friday runs at Lake Chabot.

Fridays I ran and swam again, before and after work. The running was usually at the lake but later as the training grew longer I sometimes needed to run on flat surfaces and would run on the trail near my work, in the dirt alongside the paved trail. Here I also had a surprise one week and ran into some women on the team I belong to and got to have my first group run in over a year.

Hope Valley in the Northern Sierras. A beautiful training ride. 

Pie post-bike ride in Hope Valley.

Saturdays were reserved for longer rides, often alone but sometimes with friends who were training for other events or riding in Tahoe if I was in the area. I even had a century ride planned after I had been sick with the flu. The men I tour with and the two women I train most often with were there too. I urged them to go on without me. They steadfastly refused to do so. At every rest stop for over 63 miles they waited while I managed the 6,000 feet of climbing. I planned to quit when it got really bad. It never got SO bad I guess, just mildly bad the entire time…because it was slow-going the entire day. I can’t tell you what it is like to ride up to a rest stop and feel so loved and supported and humbled and gassed. I learned that day I am mentally tough and that I can push myself and that friends and teammates and people in general can be so encouraging. A simple soda at a critical juncture can mean so much.

Lake Chabot training trail run. 

I’d wake up early Sunday mornings and slowly increased the time and mileage until I was able to run all the way around the lake near my house. The feeling? Pure joy. Another awesome day was finally getting to run again with some guys I’d known for a few years, joining a trail group I’d been following but unable to train with due to injuries or training schedules. I was emotional running the first time around the lake, thinking of how I could only dream about trails months earlier. I’ve also learned to enjoy the quiet times of swimming or biking or running alone. I don’t play music so I can hear cars or people approaching but find I can get lost in my thoughts and it can be therapeutic and meditative.

First run all the way around the lake!

A school's leadership team of students were passing these out during a long Sunday run, how cool is that?

Sharkfest Swim in Aquatic Park, San Francisco 

Credit and kudos goes to my coach for understanding and encouraging me as I did my training in this new manner. He even sat and met with me for nearly two hours a few months before the event to look at the training I had done and just chat with me about it. He encouraged me to continue, made a few minor suggestions and made himself available in the future when or if I decide to continue on my quest for completing an Ironman.

Post-Sharkfest breakfast; french toast and chicken with strawberries. I'm fueling up for my bike tour to Half Moon Bay.

Bike tour!

This happened in the exact place where I fell and broke my ankle the year before....

Last short spin across the Bay Bridge and
through Emeryville, Berkeley, Albany and
Richmond too. Now I have a new goal: bike
around the entire Bay in the upcoming year.

When this weekend finally arrived for the Ironman Lake Tahoe Half Triathlon, I had decided I was going to enjoy every moment of the entire course, even the hard parts.  My nickname of “Smiley” from my friend would be well earned.

My coworkers gave this to me, that's a pretty good imitation of how I feel when riding.

On the way up to Tahoe I stopped at the National Veterans
Cemetery in Dixon to have a little chat with my dad.

Because it snowed last year, I was prepared for every weather contingency. I was prepared for snow, rain and heat. I had a new nutrition product this year, also suggested by my friend and I can only write good things about it. It is a hydration product called Osmo The idea is to have fluid in the bottle and nutrition in the pocket, keeping the two separate. I often suffer heatstroke but while using Osmo I never did. I have begun to sweat more while working out which is a good thing. My body now cools itself. Normally I would turn beat red, hardly sweat, get a heat rash and often get the chills while training. Not any longer. For the race I would also be wearing my Bia Sport Watch. The women who developed this watch have thought of everything, it can be worn while swimming, biking or running. It has intervals that match the Jeff Galloway run/walk method I had planned to use while completing the half ironman. It also has a safety feature which sends out a signal if I’m in distress. I’ve gotten to “know” the Bia team and they have been a constant source of encouragement and I will be a forever-faithful customer as a result. I also had found a comfortable tri kit by Coeur to wear, with an anti-chafing chamois that has no seams (not everyone has the issues I have had in that arena, but trust me, it’s not fun and can infringe on training in a very * real * way).

                               

                                          Just a short ride to shake the nerves out of our legs for tomorrow's race.

Here I met with an Ironman Alumni from last year the day before the race. 

She and I had met on a training ride up Brockway the year before. She's 

been a constant source of enrouragement this past year along with another 

Ironman alumni. 

Dropping off our T1 transition bags in Kings Beach.

Bike transition the morning of the race. 

Just before the race was to begin. 

So an arsonist sabotaged the entire race. The smoke caused the event to be canceled just minutes before it was to begin. I feel bad for the people who have lost their homes, the firefighters who have fought the fire at great sacrifice to their health and their families. I feel badly for all of the people in Tahoe who were counting on the monies earned on race day for their livelihoods. I feel badly for the volunteers who came to give of their time, or did, in the smoky air. I met a worker for the World Triathlon Corporation, wearing a mask, packing up the venue on race day. Her coworker had asthma and she insisted she stay inside while she did the bulk of outdoor work that day. She, in turn, said she felt bed for all of the athletes as she had completed an Ironman and knew how disappointed everyone must be. And I felt bad for the athletes, knowing the work they had put into the day. I think of their families, knowing how they have supported and sacrificed for their spouses, fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, friends, loved ones and how they were disappointed too.

THIS is why the race was canceled. That is smoke filling the sky.

As for me? I’m not sad. I do not feel let down. I jokingly said I had a new personal record or PR, at least this year I had made it to the starting line.

But the truth is this. I’ve gained so much. I am walking and moving pain-free. More than that, I have rediscovered the joy of my fitness routine. I can kick while swimming, I can pedal pretty hard and pretty far, I can run in the dirt canopied by a forest of oak or pine trees. I can ride in the dark. I can swim in the cold.  I can run in the heat. I can mountain bike while training. I can be alone, for hours by myself and have found contentment.

And you know what? I still love Lake Tahoe.

My team nickname is "Mayhem." I dubbed it

"Mayhem No Mas" for 2014. I suppose I need to 

drop the "No Mas."     *sigh*

   Post-"race" breakfast, bacon filled waffles and chicken with
boysenberry syrup and blueberries. 

Postscript: I got an email today and looks like I’ll be racing in a week at a totally different venue. This one is in the ocean and the heat and the sand on a flat course. Why not? It will be the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. Who knows where it will take me?