The Girls in White

There are some days when I turn into a little stinker - days when my typically cheery, optimistic personality, fades, turns sour, and my go-getter yeses, transform to no-can-do nos. I just gruff. And Peter so nobly responds, well aren't you a pooper. 

However, I made a recent discovery - that is, I unveiled the culprit behind Miss Stinker, and with it, a method by which to conquer her. It happened some time in between being a real poop on Friday evening and running through a downpour on Saturday morning. Lightening didn't strike, but I had a small aha! moment. Basically, I figured out that it was during those moments in life when I feel like I'm losing, that my mood will take a turn for the worst.

For instance, when my fool proof plan to not let work stress me out falls through, boom, pooper. When my eternal diet loses to the ever-so tempting fudge brownie a la mode on the lunch table, boom, pooper. When the girl sitting next to me at the bar looks way better in her jeans than I do in mine, poopity, pooper. And Friday evening, when I felt like I was losing every which way, the pooper came out in full effect. In the battles against work, the move, the wedding, time, the marathon, and then a splitting pain in my lower calf that led to ice packs and elevation, I was losing. Each theme was beating me down, and when Peter came home, I was a full blown stinker. Not even two gin and tonics, a hefty pork chop, and three helpings of tabbouleh could change my outlook. So I called it a poopy evening, and went to bed.

The next morning, I set out to run it off. I disparagingly left the house, certain that I was going to fail two miles in, because of my bum calf. But I fought through the initial discomfort, and then I reached a point where I didn't feel it. In fact, I embraced it, and honestly started running better than I ever had before. I ran for 2 hours and 40 minutes - 19 miles. And I could have run more. I ran away my poopy pout, and just about the time the rain started pouring down on me in Springbrook Prairie, a huge smile surfaced. I felt amazing. I went from concentrating on my calf and my form and every little step, to thinking in space - in my own space, about everything and anything and all the competition I was facing.
Me versus work. Bring on the pressure, I'll perform better. 
Me versus the move. I can so do retro land.
Me versus the other girls on the trail. They made me stand up straighter and run harder.
Me versus Lyla. I just gave her a big hug.

(And you're confused.) You didn't know about this wee competitor, who about nine months ago, I thought I had lost to - who I thought had stolen my white washed thunder. That is, until I saw her adorable little face for the first time - a face, that made me cry for ever thinking that it was my year and not hers.

On Sunday, it was her turn to wear white. Her beautiful Mom and dapper Dad helped her get dressed, and while I thought to myself, wow, I'm never going to look that good when I put on my white dress, I got teary-eyed for ever being a stinker - for ever thinking that there wasn't enough love in my family to go around. When in actuality, Lyla brought more love to our little corner of the world - and has transformed our family into something even better than it was before her arrival.

So here's where I net out as I head into a week in Chicago where I could really turn into a pooper. Sometimes getting behind, falling out of first place, can actually make you perform better. Sometimes the people that you think are your competition, are really your biggest fans. And sometimes, it just takes a long run to refresh your perspective.

Lyla, you looked lovely in white on Sunday. I love you so much. And I love your mom and dad so much. Now, you just better not spill any water on me on September 3.

International Conference 2011, I'm going for a long run right now.

Lo.