You win some and you lose some. Isn’t that the advice that every parent shares with their kiddos when life hands them the virtual half-eaten-crappy-box-of-chocolates-from-Walgreens? As adults, we learn this lesson over and over again, the only difference is the line between winning and losing isn’t as clearly defined as when we were 9 years old. Sometimes you have to take the good with the bad, and suck up the pain to find the release. Sometimes the pipe bursts in the bathroom ceiling, and you just have to high five yourself because THIS time you happen to remember where the water shut off valve for the house is located. Win! Sometimes your garage becomes invaded by mice but your ingenious-probably-should-be-patented mouse trap of sticky traps, snap traps, and Cheeze-Its FINALLY managed to snag one of those little buggers. Win! Sometimes you forget to change your oil for three weeks and are stuck waiting in line at Walmart for two hours in 105 degree heat, but find yourself sitting next to a crazy old lady (who yes, wears her hair in curlers) that happens to share the most profound lessons of life with you. Win!
Our world is full of these shaded gray areas-- good news and bad news swirled together creating the all-too-familiar recipe of Life. And THAT was exactly how my crazy week ended. You see, vacation starts for me in a few short days, and I have started the packing frenzy. I fly out Thursday to Seattle with an amazing friend, Monica, to explore the city, get all glammed up for a night on the town, run a race, shop our hearts out, and eat our weight in seafood. We plan to drink mimosas on the plane, take hour long (non-kid-interrupted) showers, swear at least once a minute, and go off the grid electronically (with the exception of our close friends to whom we will send hundreds of photos with the sole purpose to make them insane with jealousy). This trip has been planned since March, and I am in shock that the calendar has flown by so quickly. It’s almost here.
But as I pack up for a weekend of debauchery and running, I can’t totally block out the pesky phrase, ‘But this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.’ I had planned to run a full marathon—and hope that I still somehow can— but I know it will be against doctors orders. A sixty day regimen of steroids designed to kick my irritating auto-immune issue into remission failed, and unfortunately that has left me out of options. All I can do at this point is manage the symptoms with drugs and various life style changes. And let me tell you, I had a headache for three weeks after I gave up caffeine… I can’t imagine what life will be like when I shut the door on martinis. The doctor warned me of the dangers of trying to run a full marathon with my body in its current condition. Am I physically fit? You had better believe it. Can my body maintain a high stress cardio output for 26 miles? I find myself biting my bottom lip, and for the first time ever, questioning my own strength. I have never been the type to back down from a challenge, but sometimes your greatest opponent is yourself—and no matter how hard you push yourself or how fast you run, you can’t escape from the one person who gazes back at you in the mirror.
Gray areas-- the obstacles placed in front of your goals mixed in with the excitement of the journey. I have accomplished a lot of good over the past two years of Army-induced-separation, and every day I am a little closer towards reaching my own personal goals. But the thing is, you can’t travel through the gray areas of life without changing and adapting. The reflection in the mirror may remain the same, but the essence of who you are is constantly growing. Since my husband left 20 months ago: my friends have varied, my job has changed, I am back in school, and our kids have collectively grown 6 inches. My hub’s clothes are pushed back into the deepest depths of the closet, I only drive his car (which now smells like a combination of perfume and a gym locker room), and the Papa John’s delivery boy is at our house so often that he now sends me Christmas AND birthday cards.
Now, I have no clue what the future will hold for me—next week, next year, or next war. But I do know that every step I take is leading me down a path that Karma has laid for me. I may stumble, make mistakes, and get my heart handed to me in a Ziploc bag, but as long as I keep getting up then I am still winning. Storms come and go, but that doesn’t mean we have to stop running through the rain. And that’s exactly what I will be doing next Saturday—running through the gray drizzle in downtown Seattle; reminding myself that you can’t cross a finish line unless you start moving towards it. Life can hurt. Friends can let you down. Illness strikes when we are least prepared—but you just need to get up and keep striving for that finish line. Fall down seven times; get up eight. And let the world be warned—Army Wives come up swinging.
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