2013

2013 is almost here - and it's going to be a drastically different training year for me. I'm going for short races. So far, the only races I have on my schedule are sprint triathlons. I might add an olympic distance race somewhere along the way (please note the emphasis on might). Long ago, I raced a lot of local 5Ks. Granted, they are 20+ minutes of complete misery.  But, just when you think you may pass out or throw up, the race is over. I found that I had to be in really good shape to run them well (for me). However, I did not need to train for 6+ hours on a Saturday to be healthy. And - I had time to pursue other activities besides running. Sounds like a win-win, if you ask me. That's what I'm aiming for next year: increasing my fitness but doing it in a more balanced way.( I also want to upgrade/redo some of our landscaping and (re)learn French - time will tell how all of this goes....)

No words

I know this blog is supposed to be devoted to my training (or lack thereof). Not this time, folks. There have been a lot of violent, terrible events in recent history. For me, the ones that have "thrown me for a loop" include the sniper, 9/11 and Virginia Tech. However, nothing has had the effect on me that the shootings in Newtown, CT have had. I'm beginning to think that I have a bit of post-traumatic stress disorder. Is that possible for someone who was hundreds of miles away from the actual event?

Maybe.

Of course, I am writing from the perspective of a first grade teacher. But, you have to understand that I love my job. I mean I really, really love it. My classroom is a sanctuary. The children I teach are part of my heart, part of my soul. If anything ever happened to one of them, I know that part of my soul would die. I know this.

I have had a nightmare (more than once, mind you) that someone took one of my children from me. Sometimes it's in the classroom, sometimes it's on the playground. In my nightmare, I negotiate with the person to take me instead of my little first grader. The ending is never clear. I think I wake up because the reality of this is just too much for me to bear.

Yes - this protective love is not just for parents. Teachers feel it. Or, as one of my colleagues so beautifully put it, anyone who has ever loved a child feels this.

When I returned to school the Monday after the shooting, I thought I would burst into tears when I saw that first, sweet,  rosy-cheeked little first grade face. But, I didn't. Blessedly, we had just a normal Monday.

I will never curse a Monday again.





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