Into the Rabbit Hole...

It seems once you trip into a rabbit hole, the tumbles continue.  I went into the surgeon's office yesterday expecting to schedule an excision of the lesion on my leg, possibly with a skin graft and then to follow up with the dermatologist at 3 month intervals. 

I came out with a plan to have a radio-detectable injection into the area around the lesion next Friday... a short wait and then the excision of the sentinel lymph node for biopsy... followed by the excision of the lesion to muscle fascia.  The surgeon does expect to be able to close without skin graft (that's good news).  The part, I guess that threw me most, was her insistence that I see an oncologist... it seems that word, that specialty, and all that it implies just threw me farthest into the hole. 

I am regrouped now.  Feel good with the plan.  I have discussed, studied, researched Breslow's Depths, Ulceration, Mitotic Rates and Clark's Levels way more than I would have ever wanted to do.  The part that still leaves me a little shaky is that the biopsy was a 4mm circle; there is probably five times that still left... with an uncertain value on all of those scales.  I will be happy when it is out next week. 

I cannot possibly begin to tell you how much your prayers and concern mean to me.  In an e-mail from Pondside, she stated:  I learned that the prayers of people I didn't even know were like a bulwark for me.  When I couldn't pray myself I was supported by the prayers of others.   Amen and amen.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart. 

**DISCLAIMER**  One more thing about yesterday's post, the GPA thing was mostly an attempt at levity.  I do know some excellent physicians who had less than (not much) a 4.0 GPA.  They tend to be the intuitive, gifted healers.  I also know some people with 4.0s that didn't have a lick of technical or intuitive skill.  The best physicians are the ones with the 4.0 GPA, an intuitive gift and technical skills to match... along a strong faith and acknowledgment of God's ultimate sovereignty.  It is an art as well as a science. 

I apologize for not having visited the past two days... I am hoping for this evening.  You know I'll be having to find out what's going on!  I still shake my head in wonder that this world of blogging has attached me to folks I have never met, but feel like I know.   Thank you again for your concerns and your prayers.

blessings to each of you ~ tanna

Melanoma and GPA

In every photo including my right lower leg, you can easily see a dark spot.  A dark spot that I have had for a few years.  Not my whole life, a few years.  It's a spot strangers will ask me about or express concern.

I'm fair.  I grew up on a farm and worked or played outside year-round.  I've never really been a sunbather or "tanner", probably because my success rate on getting a nice tan has always been almost non-existent; but, I was a runner and an avid golfer for many years.  Being outdoors has always been my lifeline to sanity... to health... to happiness.  It is where I feel closest to God... most thankful... most alive.

I have had multiple lesions frozen, biopsied, excised and/or "watched" on my forearms, hands, face.  I've had one mole (that I'd had my entire life with NO CHANGE whatsoever and no concern to me) on my leg removed in a excisional biopsy... because they were concerned (it was benign). 

The ONLY place I have been really concerned about in these years has been this dark spot on my lower leg.  The ONLY spot the dermatologists (2) and the Physician Assistants (2) and the surgeon (1) have NOT been concerned about is this one.  It had never been biopsied, measured, or photographed.  No concern.   At one point, I had asked a dermatologist to remove it and we scheduled the procedure.  45 minutes into an hour drive to have the procedure, her office called and said she was sick and could not do the surgery that day.  I took it as a message that I was just over concerned about a benign spot and decided not to pursue it any further at that time... I decided to go with the "it's nothing" diagnosis.

As recently as February 29, 2012, on a visit to a plastic surgeon's office regarding a basal cell lesion that would need to be removed from my right ear, I whipped up my pant leg to once again say, "No one thinks this is a problem, but this is the spot that worries me."  He looked at it and said, "Well, think of it this way:  if it had been melanoma, you'd be dead by now."  Dismissed... again. 

Strangely, that comment gave me a sense of peace for the first time... a way to let go of the sniggling fear that had been floating so long in the back of my mind.  I did ask for a referral to a new dermatologist, preferably a woman.  They set an appointment for April 6, Good Friday.

Eight AM Good Friday morning found me sitting in an exam chair meeting a bright, young dermatologist.  Very personable and kind.  She examined my face and ears and hands (the referral was for dealing with those in particular).  As she finished this exam and was about to discuss a plan, Evan asked me to show her my leg (AGAIN to whip out this dark spot).  I told her that the other dermatologists (one of them in her clinic) had dismissed it as nothing and I told her what the surgeon had told me a month before.  I had given up.  She said to just let her take a look.  I pulled up my pant leg and her face gave credence to all I had ever feared (she is young... perhaps she will grow better at her "game face" as time goes by).  She stated she was very concerned.  We told her we had been too... for a long time.  We told her that every time we had sat in an office and looked at the ABCD posters for detecting skin cancer, it seemed to have met every one of the criteria.  She absolutely agreed... for the first time.

A biopsy was done.  It is melanoma.  By a miracle, it is still in an earlier stage.  It is right on the border of excision v. excision and much more aggressive therapies.  I see a surgeon (a different one) at 12:45 today.

I don't know what my message to you would be... I want to say:  if you think something is wrong with your body, keep looking until you find someone who will see it with you.  But, after working in health care for so long myself, I know sometimes... as humans... we just look for things.   And, we need to trust that when they say we don't need to worry, that they are right... and we really don't have to worry.  My new dermatologist (note MY, I'm keeping her), told me that she hoped I wouldn't be angry about the missed diagnosis.  I told her it was nothing close to anger that I feel... just a loss of confidence... a loss of trust... and a fear that has left me unnerved. 

Several years ago, one of the worst arguments my daughter and I ever had was over the GPA of physicians.  Stupid thing to have a serious argument over, huh?  At that time she was dating a young man, who wanted to be a doctor.  I was hard core into believing that if I could have control of medical schools, only the 4.0s would gain acceptance or graduate (I worked in surgery 25 years... I had some grounds for having that opinion).  I argued with her that on a test of 100, if you miss two... that's two lives impacted by your wrong answer; if you miss 15 out of 100... that is 15 lives that may be lost or otherwise negatively impacted.   Multiply that by a lifetime of decisions and you see my point.  She took it as a personal insult to the young man... it wasn't personal for me, it was and is how I think.  Seems logical.  The answers and decisions they make are about lives... yours and mine and the people we love.

Yesterday, after calling Amanda with the news and the plan, I was cleaning off my desk and noticed the information packet the dermatologist's office had sent... and, I noticed among other accolades: Graduated Medical School with Special Distinction for 4.0 GPA.  It was like some special message just for me... of hope... and trust.  I know even if you have a 4.0 GPA, you will make mistakes.  We are human.  But I when I see that GPA, I know her work ethic... and I know she's are smarter than the average bear.  And, I still think it was a special message for me... of hope.

I immediately called Amanda back and relayed this information to her.  The lengths a mother has to go to prove her point... to win an argument YEARS later!  Ha!  She did concede and we had a good laugh.  Laughter is good medicine.  ;)

 Maybe that's the advice I'd give... check their GPA. 

blessings ~ tanna

Finishing Things...

I've been in a frenzy of "finishing things".  Projects that were long and hard... or long and boring.

This is the "Afghan from --ll" that, in the beginning, I had to take out as many stitches as I could leave in.

I can honestly say this project took me to the next level of knitting.  I have graduated to low-intermediate.  It allowed me to complete the Clara dress with hardly a glitch.  I like things that take us to the next level... rarely are they accomplished without some angst, however.

This project had been hanging around like a noose for about five years; and, I really did very little of it.  My friend, Dee, put in the hard work.  I just finished up a few squares around the edge and the face, blocked it and it is now ready to put on a frame.  Then it will really be finished.

I know this picture is a blur!  I couldn't manage to figure out how to change the seconds of delay on my timer and I was too bent on FINISHING my photos to go find the manual.  Boo hiss!  This is prayer shawl I started while in Dallas keeping Little Man last fall during his mom's work time. 

I am glad to have cleared these things out of my bin of things-left-unfinished.  I think my urge to complete them has something to do with my urge to complete some unfinished business within myself.  Don't our lives usually reflect our inner workings? 

My camera had been in Longview for a week... left behind at out last gathering with Little Man and his folks before they headed home.  This was the wonderful surprise I had when I downloaded my photos from this morning... a last photo his mom must have snuck in for me.  Thank you for the lagniappe, Amanda.  =)

Hope you all have a wonderful weekend...

A Seriously Bad Photography Day...

Sticking with my "plan," Evan went to Wal-Mart early this morning and purchased a new bicycle pump for us and aired up the tires on our bikes.  It was 49 degrees with a "feels like" factor of 42.  Now, the bad photography day is due, in part, to my choosing poor settings for today... I mean an ISO of 100 while the wind is whipping the plants around and I am without tripod... well, you get blurry photos.  Then there is the issue of getting twelve shots (most of which are unusable) and the message: Card Full.  All user errors.  Oh, well.

It was fun getting out.  I was able to check off the bike ride for the week... though I hope to have more.

For an update on the Azalea Trails, Christine this is the 51st Anniversary of the Trails.  There are over 14 miles of gorgeous landscaping highlighting the azaleas.  I have a link on the side to photos from last year.  This year.... the blooms are way behind schedule with the cold weather we have had. 

These tulips are beautiful, but note the azaleas in the background.  They are JUST beginning to show some color.  We had people from Dallas yesterday doing the Historic Home Tour for the first time because there were no azaleas to see!  Good for us at the Tour.  Sad for them they missed the spectacular views they were accustomed to seeing.  Good news is that they will be back next year for both the Home and Azalea Tours.  Hope all of your photo sessions go better than this one! 

Mission: THRIVE IV

For those of you who may not know, for the past four months, my daughter and I started on a mission to thrive.  We had both been in spots less than optimal for awhile.  Those less than optimal spots were not spots we were accustomed to and we wanted change.  Each month we have set goals for ourselves with the intent to thrive again.  Our progress has been rewarding.

I hate writing these next words.  I have had a setback.  As a matter of fact, you could accurately say I have been in survival mode for the past five weeks.  On February 20th I had the most incredible run.  Muscles, breath and heart all propelled me along with perfect rhythym and ease.  I took five minutes off my usual time for a three mile loop.  (If you run at all, you know that is a big change.)  It felt good.  So good that when I came through the door, I gleefully shared with Evan how running had brought me back to the place I had been seeking... a place of thriving.  I felt like I had come home to myself.  My best self. 

Ironically, I ordered a two year subscription to Runner's World magazine and a training log that morning.  All the while trying to continue to ignore a left knee that was protesting loudly.  By bedtime, the ache keeping me awake was hard to deny.  I rested the next day.  Tried to rationalize that it was only my increased pace that had cause the ache... while the little voice in the back of my head was trying to tell me the same thing I had been ignoring for a long, long time.  I even posted about it last year... the stiffness, the ache that was different than an injury... one that is best served by stopping high impact activity... by stopping running.  On the 22nd, I went out for my run.  I made my loop, but the denial was impossible.

So, I know it sounds ludicrous to the majority of folks who may read this, but I am deeply saddened by this.  Running has been a tool, a crutch, a victory, a friend, a place of prayer... that I just hate to part with.  I thought I would run with Little Man (though none of my children were ever convinced to drink the Kool-Aid of running).  I feel like I am in a pit with a lion on a snowy day... Tara, thank you for the direction to the book by that name.  It is by Mark Batterson.  I'm reading it and loving it.

Bottom line is that attitude shapes everything.  I'm working on mine again.  I am trusting that when one door closes another will open.  I am trusting that everything is just as it should be and that for every thing there is a season.  But, since I am survival mode, it is back to the lists.. the goals... the one foot in front of another until you are up and running (figuratively this time). 

• I am thinking that letting go is a big chunk of the lesson I'm working on right now so... for 15 minutes each week for the next month, I am going to throw away "stuff".
• I will work one half day in the yard each week.
• I will get a bicycle pump, air up my tires and ride my bike at least once a week.
• I will find quiet time to worship the Lord.  I will give thanks.  I will ask for the eyes to see and the ears to hear and the heart to feel His desire for my life.  I will listen.  I will look.  I will be open.
• I will get back on the path to thriving. 

I hope you are all on your own path to thriving... Life is both to short and too long not to get all out of it that God has intended for us!   I'd love to hear about your journeys.  Thrive on, Sisters!

Perception and Unsolicited Racing Advice...

I received this message in an e-mail this morning thought it was worth passing along...

"PERCEPTION. . . Something To Think About.. . .
Washington, DC Metro Station on a cold January morning in 2007.

The man with a violin played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time approx. 2 thousand people went through the station, most of them on their way to work.

After 3 minutes a middle aged man noticed there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried to meet his schedule.

4 minutes later: The violinist received his first dollar: a woman threw the money in the hat and, without stopping, continued to walk.

6 minutes: A young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.

10 minutes:A 3-year old boy stopped but his mother tugged him along hurriedly. The kid stopped to look at the violinist again, but the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head all the time. This action was repeated by several other children. Every parent, without exception, forced their children to move on quickly.

45 minutes:The musician played continuously.
Only 6 people stopped and listened for a short while.
About 20 gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace.
The man collected a total of $32.

1 hour:He finished playing and silence took over.

No one noticed.. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition. No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars.. Two days before Joshua Bell sold out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100.

This is a true story. Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people's priorities.

The questions raised:
*In a common place environment at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty?
*Do we stop to appreciate it?
*Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?

One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be this: If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made. How many other things are we missing?"

Unsolicited advice on running a race from an old dog (unless you are planning on being first, or close to first, to cross the finish line):

• Start at the back of the pack. You won't get caught up in someone else's folly... you may have to dodge strollers and walkers... but, you will be able to choose your own pace.
• Run your first mile slower than your desired race pace.
• Run your first mile slower than your desired race pace... yes, it is that important.
• Don't let yourself get sucked into or pushed out too fast. Find your own pace... listen to your body. If you can give it that first mile, it will give you the rest of the race.
• Enjoy every minute!! You'll be running negative splits and passing others all the way to the finish line! I am sooooo looking forward to hearing about some of these runs! Vicarious fun!

Mission: THRIVE III

It is the last Thursday of the month and I am dashing through here to keep good on my commitment. Last month, my goals were:

I'm going to focus on paying attention to the paths that open to me and to enjoy (or at least give thanks for) all that God sends. Keep up the moving. Exercise is critical for me. Focus on connections to God and to my loved ones.

I'm reporting that I have been so busy following some very interesting paths that I have hardly had time to blog at all! It has been great fun though. I have met some of the most interesting people and enjoyed some new activities. My creative projects are running me wild! I have hit full thrive mode.

The most interesting thing I can share about last month's commitment to enjoy or at least give thanks for all that God sends is that the alchemy of gratitude is amazing. I have reminded myself countless times over the month to give thanks for ALL things... the annoying, the dreaded, the downright irritating... and, amazingly, almost every time I ended up enjoying whatever the situation! Just by giving thanks... not by trying to convince myself that I liked or enjoyed the situation... but, by giving thanks.

And, because this has worked so well for me this month, I will continue with the same goals I had last month. Right now I am struggling to give thanks for my left knee pain... but, I am determined to trust that for whatever reason, this is right for now. God is good.

Hope my other little thrivers are enjoying the successes of an intention to thrive! I'd love to hear all about it! Happy Thriving!

A Benefit of Experience...

Yep, that's me a couple of weeks ago... running with three layers on the bottom and five on top. Brrrrr... I am so ready for the warm... and, I will so appreciate warmth after this cold.

I always "say" I started running when I was twenty. Truth is, I started running as a child. It was play then... I imagined that I was a horse galloping along free and strong... No matter the "start date," running has had a part in most of my life.


I read Running for Health and Beauty during the first year of Amanda's life. I can't remember the author's name, but she convinced me that running 1.5 miles three times a week would change my life. It did. Of course, it took me a whole year to run the entire 1.5 miles. I was so excited to make that milestone!


Looking back to those days, I was a new mother in a marriage that was not the fairy tale I had signed up for... overwhelmed, fearful, and filled with a love that scared me in its intensity... for this tiny creature who was totally dependent on me. I was young. I was stupid. I was terrified. And, I needed to feel the successes of making it from one telephone pole to the next. Running gave me an area that I could push myself to keep going... and succeed. It made me feel stronger. It made me feel like I could cope; like I could make it; like I could raise this child to be a survivor, too.


Fast forward three years. I still celebrated every successful mile and a half. I still fed off the beauty of nature; the gift of a body that could run; and the gratitude I would feel while making my run. I met a new friend, a little older... a little wiser than me. She ran, too. Her runs were three miles long. My one point five mile adventure didn't sound so good anymore. My balloon felt a bit deflated. I told her I didn't think I could ever run that far. She said sure I could. I joined her on several three milers over time. I learned the secret of pacing myself. I learned that my limitations were only in my mind.


It didn't take long after that barrier was broken for me to extend my runs to include 10ks (6.2 miles). My regular runs would be three to five miles. More years pass. Making a long story short, I celebrated my fortieth birthday by running my first marathon (26.2 mi.) and would enjoy four more marathons over the next few years. Those were my peak running days.


More years passed. I lost my desire to do marathons... yet, it became harder and harder to be satisfied with running "normal" amounts... if I wasn't doing long runs on the weekend, did it really count? Adjustment to decreased mileage was difficult.


Then, I hit the menopause button along with some other life changes. I sat on my butt. I thought running was over for me. I didn't really care. Until, a few months ago I realized that life just wasn't as good and I wanted that to change! At 53, I started running again... the biggest difference between 53 y/o Tanna and 20 y/o Tanna is that I knew I could run. I started back running two miles at a time and quickly progressed to three. I started back running two miles. I smile to realize how long it took me at twenty to make it to a mile and a half. There are a few things to be said for age and experience.


It's all in the knowing. The voice I coach myself along with now knows... it is encouraging... it does not doubt. My pace was very slow to start... slow, but sure. I so often wonder how very much we keep ourselves from doing, accomplishing, enjoying, being... just because we doubt ourselves.


I'm so grateful for my friend, who because she knew she could run three miles, taught me that I could too. Thank you, Milha. =)

Striving to Thrive...

I'm feelin' a bit overwhelmed. I jumped off into the "change the decor" mode... and, the full implications of that are hitting home. Truth is, it's not just the decor that I'm working to change. There are some things I need to change about my life.

While I've been clicking along on these little projects, I've been thinking about the subjects of surviving, striving and thriving. I'm a big believer in thriving. I do belive life throws us some curves... some bumps in the road... some roadblocks... and, sometimes, even a few dead ends. We may have to work to keep putting one foot in front of the other while we survive these times.

Sooner or later, we get our feet back under ourselves... then, it becomes a choice... to continue to just get by... to survive. Or, to choose to thrive. When we choose to thrive, it requires striving sometimes... Striving to make the changes, do the deeds, dig deeper, move ahead.

Whatever the effort involved in the striving... it's always worth it when we are finally thriving...

So, the question is: What would it take in your life for you to thrive? What is it taking? I am thinking after the first of the year we need to have a day we post about this... a Thriving Day... a Striving to Thrive Day... We could encourage each other. Have some accountability. Hmmmm... Well, that's what I've been thinking while I've been clicking away... Any takers???

Hook-In at Marla's Lakehouse - Primitive Rug Hooking

Today, I went to Marla's lakehouse. It is on a small private lake north of town. Cute as a button! The purpose was fellowship and food... a hook-in for the "hookers". Rug hooking is amazing in that five women could be working on the exact same pattern, even using similar materials and they would all be unique to that woman. It is an art started by women who used the burlap feed sacks and old wool clothes to create rugs for their homes. Now, many patterns are on fine linen and the wool is hand dyed... still... the art goes on...



There was a dozen of us who brought food and whatever we happened to be working on at the time.




I didn't really start taking pictures until late in the game, so I missed some folks... and some projects that were really cool.



This is Dee and Sue. Dee led me to this group SEVERAL years ago and I only realized while I was uploading pictures that I MISSED photographing Dee's project! That she finished today... only to be talked into working on mine (while I knitted... imagine that). Sue is prolific! Most of the rugs pictured in here are hers, including the cute sheep guys at the start.

This is Sue's current project.

A wonderful fall scene... scarecrows, pumpkins and crows, who obviously do not appreciate the fact they are supposed to be "scared" away.

This is Marla... she was the hostess with the most-est today! Thank you for your warm hospitality, Marla!

She is very close to finishing her project, too.

It will be a beautiful table runner when it is finished.

Martha is another prolific hooker!! She can finish a room sized rug before I have time to do a place mat!! Her constant theme is America... red, white and blue. Nobody does it better.

These are some of Sue's ladies...

And, her dog friends... Hers is the little angel in the lower left corner... with the halo. =)

I had a great time today... the fellowship was fabulous... the inspiration, outrageous... but, let me just say, these little cakes were the favorite part of my day!! Thank you, Kerry!

Fitness Project - a.k.a. The Wagon

The toe-hold grew tenuous after Little Man's visit to Texas. For those of you who might not know, I started a "boot camp" re-entry to fitness in September. It was brutal; I survived. Then for eleven days I did no exercise. Zero. Zip. Nada. By the way, I gained three pounds in boot camp... that was eating exactly as prescribed... and making all my camp days.

So, I admit there was a little wavering on my commitment to get strong and fit. Okay, a lot of wavering. You lose momentum when you sit on the couch. Inertia sets in. The conversation goes, "Well, it wasn't working anyway. You were gaining more weight. It will be really hard again. Why does it really matter? Why don't you just accept that you are old and fat? Acceptance = Peace. Blah... Blah... Blah... " You get the picture. We all know how persuasive that voice can be. Downright mesmerizing!

But, I am most happy to report that for two weeks straight I have stayed on my own program of weight training and running. That's right. I've started back running. Apparently, a resting heart rate of 54, that I had come to believe was my natural birthright, was not. I was quite surprised when I started using my heart rate monitor again... amazing how far one can fall while not paying attention. I think that applies to all things in life. We don't pay attention... they slip away.

This morning, I am celebrating two weeks firmly ON THE WAGON! Woo hoo!

Playing for Change - Stand by Me

Just finished reading my e-mail for the morning. In it was a link to a youTube video sent by one of my oldest and dearest friends, Kathy. Her note said, "If this doesn't make you want to dance, nothing will!" Amen. It is from a documentary Playing for Change. Music is a common language... taps common emotions... allows us to rise above... do more... maybe, be more. Evan recently took his iPod with him to the gym to use while he was on the elliptical machine; he was so tickled at how the time passed and he felt like he could go on forever. This version of Stand by Me makes me feel like we could all go on forever... We all need someone to stand by us. I am deeply grateful for my peeps who stand by me and pray for a day when we can all stand by each other. Thank you so much Kathy! GO! DANCE! Stand by someone...

On the wagon...

Boot camp has kicked my butt, whipped my a**, taken me down, left me lying... I'm not kidding. The first ten days, I was so sore I wanted to scream... so tired I struggled to get through the day and was still tired when I went back the next day. I've never been fatter, more out of shape or older (LOL) in my life! Mostly, I think it has been the out of shape issue. Though my state of soreness and exhaustion has given me cause to wonder if I'm not just too old for this stuff anymore.

Truth of the matter is that I know better. After twenty-five years of orthopaedic nursing, I know the value of working out. I saw first hand the difference between people who took responsibility for their bodies and those who didn't. And, for most of my life, I have done a fair job of managing some level of fitness... until the past three years.

I fell off the fitness wagon. Didn't want back on. Screw the wagon. You could say I didn't and haven't taken to aging all that gracefully. Hot flashes, wrinkles, sags, gray, grumpy. None of it good. I didn't like it. I was mad (more than angry, that sprinkled with a little irrational=mad). Then my child moved away... expecting my first grandchild. The wagon didn't look any better.

Sometimes, I would convince myself to give some half-a**ed effort... a beginner's yoga class... water aerobics at the YMCA (thought I was in Cocoon). Weak efforts... not really the wagon.

Finally, I'm ready to get back on... and I can't seem to get a grip on the tail of the wagon!! Monday morning, after a weekend of mostly lying on the couch, the alarm went off at 4 am and I cannot tell you how disheartening it was to wake up and still feel that sore and that tired. I should have been rested. I was not. But, I suited up and showed up. I pretty much had nothin' that morning. I did the best I could. Lots of times the just quit voice whispered in my ear... even through the day, long after the workout. I wasn't sure the wagon would ever be for me again.

Then the miracle Tuesday morning of waking up and feeling the difference... I was still sore... but, I could tell I was on my way back. I'm not sure how to describe that feeling... it is just that I could feel my body beginning to turn itself around... to begin to build again... to grow stronger. It has taken me way longer to feel myself coming back from this than I ever imagined. I took for granted that when I decided to get back in shape, my body would jump right to it... just like it always jumped to a new level for me in years past.

I still have a long way to go.

I am older. I did let myself go to the bottom of the pit. But, I have a toe-hold on the wagon... and, I'm not letting go.

A special thank you to my blogging friends who have encouraged me! I appreciate your support more than I can say! Here's to finding your wagon... and getting back on... whatever it may be!

The Morning After...

The morning after (the first day of "boot camp") has sharply brought to mind how far I have fallen off the wagon of fitness! Getting out of bed - painful! Sitting on the toilet - almost impossible! I needed a crane to sit me down gently... but, no! I had to plop, unceremoniously, on my own volition with a growl! Then there was the getting up! Ouch!

Let me just say that I slept like a ROCK! From seven PM when I fell asleep on the couch... woke briefly to move from couch to bed... then OUT... until this morning just before the alarm at 5! Sleep was good! (sorry, Amanda)

Today, is my day to walk/run on my own. I'm not sure how that is going to go. lol. I thank all of my encouragers! Tomorrow morning, I'll be back out in that parking lot at 5:15 AM with "Go, Noni, Go" echoing in my mind... until it is replaced by the shrill orders of our drill master! LOL!

Special Thanks...

I do not even have time to be posting this right now! But, I could not resist! How fun it was to see Amanda's post today (I robbed one of the photos)!! I had to send a special thank you to my Alex and his mom! I appreciate the encouragement so much!

I was in the pouring rain for boot camp at 5:15 am. It was rigorous!! I am SORE! But, now I will have this precious image to keep me going strong for the next session!!

I love you two!! XOXOXOX

Discussion with my darling...

Noni: Alex, I am so out of shape!



Alex: Well, Noni, you are the only one who can do anything about that.




Noni: I know. I just can't seem to muster any motivation or self-discipline for myself!



Alex: I'll cheer you on, Noni!!

Noni: Thank you, baby! Noni is going to sign up for an exercise class today!

Blessings...

"To come home is to find yourself with those who put your heart at ease."--A. Danielson

How many of us have found ourselves separated in one way or another from our blood relatives and then been blessed by a "family" of people who love us for who we are? People who share our lives on an intimate level. They know our nitty-gritty. They celebrate with us. Mourn with us. They lift us up... and keep us grounded. We know their nitty-gritty. We guard them. We pray for them. We honor this bond. I have been very, very blessed by friendships that have grown to be binds as close as family. I see in my daughter's friendships what I believe to be the same. I am as grateful for her to have these gifts as I am to enjoy mine. I wish the same for my son. Thank you Father for the blessings you have bestowed on our lives...


And of "real" family, the amaryllis on the left is a gift from my Mom... I love that it comes out every year and shoots up with incredible speed to deliver this perfect, amazing, beautiful red bouquet. And, I love the shape of the pot. Thank you, Mom.



More signs of spring... =)

Today's post was inspired by my cousin, Marie... and her friend, Marilyn... May God bless you both...