Wild West Relay

Leg 1.  It was really windy.  So windy that I felt like the breath was being sucked out of my mouth before I could pull it down into my lungs.  I was so anxious that I wouldn't be able to keep running because I hadn't trained like I should have.  Instead I had spent a lot of time figuring out whether or not life as I knew it was over (it was, thank goodness).  But it went fine.  Life and the race went fine.  I came in a bit under time.  Winded and flushed, but in.

2nd Leg.  The long one, almost ten miles.  3 miles up, dirt roads, 7 miles flying straight down.  Amazing views.  Gorgeous.  Felt good, went fast.  8 miles in had a sense of euphoria, but also the wooziness that I now recognize as my body malfunctioning.  Came in to the finish, again a little under time, thought I felt okay.  Then the vomiting started.  Felt terrible for the next eight hours and hogged an entire bench in the van because sitting up just wasn't an option.

Leg 3.  No way I was going to be able to do it.  I still had vomit on my shoes and it was the middle of the night and I couldn't find my glasses much less my running shoes and it was freezing.  But I didn't want to let someone else take my leg and everyone was sleeping and exhausted.  There was talk about cheating, about letting me out of the van to walk 100 yards and then picking me up again.  It's not like we're going to win anything with eight people instead of twelve anyway.  But I don't like the sound of that.  So I walk one mile.  The moon is bright, the air is cool, and I start to feel better.  Woozy and very out of it--I think the moon and I had a conversation at one point--but one mile added to another was two, and then three, and then four, and finally I came in at five.  Everyone was still sleeping, but I felt better, drove us to the next exchange, and then finally passed out, not nauseous, until daylight.

Last leg.  Still feeling up and down.  Talking to myself a lot about when to push it and when not, since that's part of what gets me into this mess.  Everyone else has done so well and I was the weakest link.  I can't get any food down, though, and the last leg is six miles straight up Rabbit Ears Pass.  Lisa offers to trade with me, and though I hate it, I agree.  I take her four miles and half-walk, half-run them.

Finally, done.  So much of it sucked.  I wasn't prepared and the worst thing I could image happening happened.

But I would do it again.  Totally.  Because of the people in all these pictures, and because sometimes we need to fight these kinds of battles and figure out some things about ourselves.

Things I've come to believe about marriage.

1.  There are no good, believable messages about how marriage really is anywhere in our culture.  Except maybe on Modern Family.  This fact makes me hate things like the "Defense of Marriage Act" even more than you could know.  And it also makes me think that anybody anywhere should get married if they want so they could know how fucked up and crazy and useful it is for certain things.

2.  Comparing your marriage to someone else's marriage is a bad, bad idea, because everyone, and I mean everyone, is fucked up or compromised in some way that they will never, ever let you see.  I am not being cynical.  This is just the truth.  Because the only creatures getting married are humans, which means marriage is human, which means marriage is as fucked up as we are.  And we are all fucked up in some way.  Good marriages, I think, just figure out how to work their way through the fucked-up-ness with honesty.

3.  I was pretty sure I was happily married for the last ten years or so.  I really wasn't so happy.  I'm guessing some of you saw this and now are like, "duh," but I didn't really get it in a conscious way.  Then our marriage exploded, and we've been gluing pieces back together into some strange postmodern sculpture that is a lot more about truth than beauty and I finally feel happy.  I love that old chick flick How to Make an American Quilt.  There are these scenes where a woman throws all of her beloved knick-knacks and trinkets at her philandering husband and then putties all of the pieces on to the wall in a jagged pastiche.  The breaking and the rebuilding give her her freedom back.  She sings again.

4.  I'm happy for now.  Next year may be different.  And then I may get happy again.  There are bad times in marriage and good times and it's hard to know which kind you're in sometimes.  Sometimes you need help.  I need lots of help because I have spent a long time not using my voice in a good way.

5.  E. is not a philanderer.  Maybe you are thinking that, but you are thinking wrong.  You are wondering and wondering and trying to fit what happened to us into a box that explains things, but there is no box.  It's too big and complex and simple and obvious for all of that.

6.  Therapy, and lots of it, is the only reason I'm still married right now, and is why I'm happy in my marriage.  E. showed up in a big way in the therapist's office.  That would have been a dealbreaker if he hadn't.

7.  Watching t.v. together in bed is good.

Beasties

Milo Circles

Every morning Milo walks the perimeter of our bed about 25 times with this ball in his mouth.  He uses it to knock our coffee mugs out of our hands so that we spill coffee all over our camis and boxer shorts.

He breathes heavy and prances, and we are expected to ooh and ahh and congratulate him and tell him what a good boy he is and how smart and what a gentleman and isn't that a nice ball and you're a good boy.

They're exhausting, this dog and his ball.

Hive 12

Another summer trip to Logan Canyon.  I was alive and functioning but still pretty grief-y.  I was worried about getting trained up for the long relay in August, though, and when I'm with my writing Hive (Utah is the beehive state) we work and then we play.  So we made some hikes.

There were times I felt like I couldn't breathe, that my legs wouldn't work, that I might collapse in sadness and shame.

But my friends just accepted all of that, and we took one step at a time, and made it up the mountain.  We sat on a rock and took it in, able to look straight down into the canyon below.  It would have been so easy to fall.  But I didn't.

What is the meaning of this someone tell me please.

E, Mid-

I think he's holding one of my seaweed snacks there.  I'm sort of obsessed with them.  And with nuts.  And with slaw salads with rice vinegar, soy sauce, and sesame oil.  And fruit.  And hummus.

Good foods.

Good E.