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More Is Never Enough

As I ran yesterday, I wondered what all the reasons were that I’d gone into the Marines. Also, at nearly the same time, I reckoned with what I’d witnessed in the animal kingdom from some nature shows, as well in my own backyard. Questions have been: why do we want what someone else has, if we have enough? It is important to have a defense mechanism in place; however, when is conquering enough? At this point, we should be at peace. There should be more peace. Out of gratefulness, we should be helping others. I went into the Marines to defend peace. Peace for those living in our country. Too, for those outside our country who want the basics, such as food, shelter, freedom and education, which lead to health. A healthy society is a happy society. Yet, at this juncture we have people wanting more. More is never enough. I’m witnessing those in our country who are demanding longevity but have not been willing to take care of the necessities that they’d been blessed with upon birth. I was le...
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Your Vote Was Sinister... To Ssy the Least

The criminal in the white house... our White House. You know We the People? If you hadn't noticed we're getting the shaft by the criminal in our White House. He's now hit a records long domestic deployment of military presence in a city in our country, and it ain't right. There's no reason to waste such resources in our nation's Capitol. Yet, congress and our other branches of power are allowing this. I remember my father-in-law and I having a conversation about his trip to Israel decades ago. He said, "Jody, its amazing. You're in Jerusalem and there are military personnel some armed with machine guns, seemingly everywhere. Its great that we don't live like that here."  He a World War II veteran stated such. I can only imagine what Herbie would think now. My husband had said, "You always had great talks with my dad." Yeah, Herbie and I had some indepth discussions. There was much to learn from him too. Herbie/Dad would have a line...
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Today's Run...

After nearly ten hours of sleep last night. I wondered what I'd get done today. And how my run would feel, more or less painful with my now knowing my running form had changed since my husband passed. Moly form weakened and got sloppier. I didn't think this would happen to me. I kept looking and the wear on the bottom of my running shoes. Yet, I accepted the unusual wearing occurring at the heels of the shoes which years ago was never prevalent. I noticed that once again the wear on my running shoes changed recently. I oscillated between three different types/pairs of running shoes over the past 10 days. My quads got sore, tired. Yet my legs felt different. I realized my old form from years prior was coming back. I had wondered why I couldn't get past a recent injury, no matter the hour I put in every day doing yoga, stretching and foam rolling before running. I knew the hours upon hours of writing every day would cause mental fatigue, thus it could effect my physical fati...
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I Was Tired

Yeah, I was tired this  morning... I've lived with pain throughout my life. I've ignored much of it. At least, that's what I'd stated to an Army Ranger years ago. He'd saw me fight with my coach one day in 2013. I was taking punches and kicks to the head, arms, body and legs from him. And still I pursued. At times cursing. It sucks when a guy who's been doing this fighting for nearly five decades lands his thick well-conditioned shin, just right on your bursa. It sends shock waves of pain through your body and gets you yelling, "Son of a Bitch!" Yet you pursue as you desire to go in for the kill, yet its training. By the way, you can't kill the coach. Because then, who else is going to know things about you in order to tell you what's left in your tank? I saw the Ranger turn to a guy as my coach now had gone across the open gym awaiting my response. Thinking the kick crippled me enough temporarily to stop me. No, now I was just more focused. As...
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Baptisms’ a Bitch—Oh the Fish Tank

       When it’s the early 1960s and your parents are two different religions, one being Catholic. The priest is usually none too happy. Especially, if he wasn’t the one who married the mixed couple. Then they had the audacity to bring him their second living child for a baptism. One would think the priest would’ve been happy to have a chance to increase his parish size. Perhaps having a chance to indoctrinate another paying soul into his realm. But no, he didn’t like my name. Yes, the priest kept denying that my first name represented Joseph. He asked why they hadn’t named me Josephine. It was clear why. My dad’s family were of WASP origin, so we were told. Much later, nearly forty years later we would find out that Dad’s paternal side were originally Vikings who conquered the English Isle of Mann. Pagans—Oh dear God!     Then the Godparents.—both were church goers, but again one was Catholic and my Dad’s sister who was married to a full-bred No...
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Practically Practical

      It was 1981 and I was stationed at Camp LeJeune. I was working in the Motor Pool that afternoon. Amazingly I was not passing out from the unshaded hot pavement as I had the day before with heat stroke. The motor pool lieutenant was standing by a bunch of guys who’d moved what appeared to be part of a telephone pole into a clear area of the motor pool. The space was enough for thirty Marines to be just standing around, kibbitzing.    Somehow, I was commandeered away from dead-lining a five-ton truck that afternoon. The Sergeant and Lance I was near also had been called over to where the partial telephone pole was. As we meandered over, one guy said, “We’re going to do coordination drills.” They all looked at me. Yeah, I hadn’t got my first stripe yet. I knew what it was. I’d play along. Yet, not knowing how far they’d go. I’ll tolerate just so much fun when I’m exhausted from heat stroke, and I know there’s batteries to clean and other jobs that had ...
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1987...I find Bill Rodgers' Car

  ...And it would be the second time serendipitously I’d met Bill Rodgers, who was the four-time New York City Marathon winner and four-time Boston Marathon winner. [1] Only this time, it wasn’t just a “Hey. How you doin’?” Like in Pittsburgh on May 5 th of that year—as my husband and I walked by the Marathon Running god. It was, “I can’t find my car in this underground parking garage”. And my reply was, “Oh you’ve lost your car. I’ll help you find it.”         Earlier that morning I did a slow thirty-minute warmup before the race. Again, the race was chockful of world class runners. It was a rainy, nearly eighty degree day. I came across the finish line as fourth woman and 110 th overall finisher with a 1:17:31 for 20K. After the awards ceremony I walked around and spoke with some of the runners who’d finished around my time. Then I got my bag and went to find my car in the underground parking garage that we runners had been offered to park in before ...
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