...it will all be done.
Whatever the results may be.
And that's kind of exciting. Scary, but exciting, too.
It's been one of those whirlwind weekends. Something awful happened Friday. Something that is really your worst fear come true...something that makes you stop and realize how little you have in your control when you kiss your loved ones goodbye in the morning. Something that makes you stop and think that sometimes you almost don't have time for that kiss. And how you'd just never be able to live with yourself if Friday was that day for you.
I spent part of Friday evening in a place no one wants to be in--the Emergency Room, with a few other friends and quite a few tears. I spent Friday night thinking, what would I do if it was just me alone in this bed? Would I be able to handle that?
Somehow we have to, sometimes.
So this week, my race has been pushed to the back burner. And, the more I think about it, I remember that I do best when I push it back there. I am, first and foremost, a mother, wife, sister, daughter, and friend. I'm no professional athlete. I get to race in Columbus next Sunday morning and have that moment--where I have to wait in line for the port-o-potty, hands shaking, yawning like I always do when I'm nervous--because I am lucky enough to have that moment.
After Friday, I woke up and drove to West Virginia with Matt and friends from my childhood-- most of whom I am lucky enough to still call my friends today. And I focused on the happy thoughts, because I had to--that one of my bestest guy friends since kindergarten found such an awesome girl. I danced with a ridiculous hot pink feather boa around my neck. I kicked my shoes off because they made my feet hurt, and danced to Baby Got Back like I was pretty much in the video. I did the best I could to live that evening like the gift that it was.
There is suffering and joy in all of our lives. I'm very blessed that most of mine is pure, sheer joy.
And with that, I look forward to the finish line next Sunday morning.