Writing Reality

 I'm not your fortunate son As I was preparing for my first MMA Fight in autumn of 2010, my coach and some of the men in the all male fight gym wondered what would be my selection for my walk-out song. I knew we'd have a good audience in Atlantic City. So, I decided since I never felt too fortunate. As I was nearly always considered the non-athlete athlete. I struggled in anything athletic. Yet, the one thing I had and got going for me, was my pain tolerance, my willingness to keep going regardless of how bleek the outcome may seem. And my unwillingness to become completely dismayed. I thought about comments my coach Phil, the men in the gym, and a couple of former coaches had said and implied to me. A line from my fight coach "You're the son your father always wanted." Yep, that's about the size of it. And seriously, it had been implied when I was a child by some family friends and some of their workers.  As the fight got closer, I realized I couldn't hav

I give you the world There are many avenues to enter, at any age.  Most believe once you check into one avenue that your life becomes like the song, "Hotel California". And 'You can never leave." So it is sung. Not so.  Well, not according to my life's playbook. In my mind, it is that you can checkout of a job, a career, a bad habit, a relationship,  even a family. Or perhaps a tribal way of thinking,  feeling or acting. I do believe that. As well, you CAN leave. And to reckon with that is healthy, yet it is and will be met with obstacles,  some in the form of distasteful judgment,  scorn, and so forth. Changing, is not something we all ease into gracefully.  Sometimes it's a rip and a tear.  And not like a bandage torn off a wound. Sometimes it is likened to yanking stitches out, that most likely will leave a scar.  Granted not a pleasant feeling. Actually, not may even be traumatizing to some. So, here we are. Some leaving a relationship,  some leaving a

  Do Only Our Best When I was in elementary school there was this little boy.  Yes, he was maybe as little as I was back then, even in fifth grade. His brown burnt tinge colored hair lay on top of his high Irish freckled, sunny, Catholic face. It's as though I just saw him yesterday. That yesterday being nearly fifty years ago.  You see I describe Kevin, Kevin McCormick,  that was his name.  I describe him as I see him in my mind's eye, from when we were kids.  The crippled, yet happy go-lucky boy, properly dressed,  properly quaffed, walking to school with such extraordinary jerky motion in every stride of his walk. He was the nice boy.  From what I understood,  he came from a strict upbringing. I gather it was due to the large Catholic family he was born into. I don't ever recall Kevin being called to the Principall's office,  nor receiving detention. His perpetual smile remains with me. What this all brings me to is, and no I don't mean to sound like we need

  No time to feel.     "I don't cry at funerals." I told a medical doctor, a professional acquaintance of mine ten years ago, as she rested in my treatment room.   "Really. Do you think that's healthy?" She queried.    I replied, "Maybe not. But mourning in public just isn't my style.  It's just too intimate for me to do publicly."    She was stunned by my near monotone stoic attitude about my own feeling of seemingly no feeling. Or so it appears that way to others.   It's not that I've never shed a tear at a wake or funeral.  I think maybe it’s twice out of the over fifty times I've arrived to say good-bye in person to the dearly departed. ...well and some are not so dearly.  You're present so that no one knows your true feelings. Yes, I'll admit, I'll go to make nice. One time was so rough, but I managed to appear solemn.    I'm good like that. I know how to show up, fake it, move it, play it down,

  Where Do Squirrels Go? Quite often I ponder such thoughts, as when a fawn missteps, and has met its demise at an early age. Quite often at the hands of humans. I wonder about its mother and the feelings of which she may feel. I run past roadkill, and as I do I say an old prayer I learned at age four. I pray for its family. Then I ponder thoughts on the family that the creature has left behind. This happens, at least once a week on my daily runs. I wonder, is it just that the creature has just left the earth; and it is completely no more? Or does its essence arrive somewhere else, intangible?   I do understand that it may very well be that deer, squirrels, bunnies and the like don’t have much pondering other than survival while they exist in their physical form on this earth. Probably. As I reflect on times in my life when I’ve watched others in fear for their children’s lives or spouses' lives, I felt their concern. Yet, I’ve thought, why would anyone think mine would matte

  When I was age seven or so, I started this hard-core praying thing.  You see, I knew the world needed help. Well, actually I knew my parents were in trouble. So, at night I'd run a video tape in my head (it was a movie film in my day 1969 when this film started to play in my head at night.). So, I wanted a few things. I wanted to be close to God, like King David.  I wanted squishy teddy bears/stuffed animals, I wanted to write,  i wanted to be a soldier, and I wanted to save the world.  Not like with super powers, because I knew that wasn't true. But with fortitude,  dedication, courage and toughness. That's what I prayed for. So, here I lay in bed and grabbing one of our many squishy stuffed animals my now deceased husband and I have collected since 1982. I realized I had not a void. Yes, things aren't perfect.  The world recently appears to be spinning off its axis. Okay, yeah that'd be. I'm a science geek, I know what's going on. I was in the Marines,

After attempting to see if my legs... well if I would become successful in getting my running legs back or better than what they've been since 30 years ago, when my spine, and mainly right side took damage. Damage the medical field misdiagnosed for 18 months. With a question, "What if I overcame my damage.? The nerve damage." I've dreamt I could.  I thought anyone would think such thoughts would be insane. But I don't ever believe anyone should put limits on themselves.  Bad enough many people have desired to put limits on others, because of their ignorance and their own inequities.  No one on this God's earth truly knows what any one individual is capable of. In speaking with my old UltraRunning coach, Dante over the past few weeks, he sees something.  Something I wondered about for the past fifteen years.  I contemplated such thoughts of burnout.  Then I realized, if I could use my running for staying in shape for another athletic career... and then if I f

A Mental Health Day...Even for the quite Motivated: Years ago as I lay in bed with our then almost three year old at 8:35pm, I had my alarm set for 12:30am. I had to get in a fifty mile run in  the morning before taking our daughters to ballet and then to the playground to meet up with their playdates for my day off of work.  I have to say, I didn't think they were aware of what I did in a day, let alone anything, except my watching their ballet, soccer, Karate and doing ceramics, beadery with them and reading to them. I thought they were aware that both my husband and I worked, stayed in shape, doing our own home chores, landscaping and so forth. But I don't think they understood the crewing Norm did for the charity running I'd done. The perception they must've had of seeing my running on a treadmill for twenty-four hours, then meeting me in Cape May and then in some obscure town nearing northern New Jersey after days of running.  Adults I knew couldn't grasp it.

Daughters of Color In light of recent events,  primarily the Olympics now being held. It has drawn my two Daughter's attention, who are People Of Color (POC). The first topic of discussion in our home, was Simone Biles. It was her ability to think for herself under immense pressure.  Pressure many may not understand,  nor may encounter at such a young age or at all in their lives. The difficulty to make a clear-cut decision on such a notable international stage as the Olympics,  is at the very least horrifying for anyone. Now add in the fact she is a woman of color. Let me give you some insight.  I've been a professional in three sports. The criticism some women may face, those who are unsupported can be great (I understand much of that).  Yet, even if you have great support of family and friends,  there's still this cultural pull that you some how, amazingly without any effort of your own attained a high level in athletics.  And that you owe everyone else who didn't g

  The Big Bad Wolf Follow me on this one… Read it carefully…if you dare. Today August 1 st , marks a lesson in survival. A lesson in strength, faith, fortitude, some compassion and my yield to wield ruthlessness. Yes, you heard me, ruthlessness. Growing up, my older brother Don always thought he was so tough. Meanwhile my mother knew of the two of us, who’d most likely take the shots for the other…ME. I’d sacrifice. I was a little like a German Shepherd, a Yellow Lab and a Honey Badger all rolled into one.   I never revealed it verbally. I remained a silent partner in my older brother’s whereabouts and his safety. And as time passed, others around me as a child. My late husband commented to a woman years ago about my running at night. As he was questioned by her allowing me to run at night. He stated, "She's already met 'The Big Bad Wolf'." This attitude of mine arrived so early, I dare not even consider when it actually landed in my soul. As well, I was a b