When I raced, I never worried about the finish. I knew if I could just get to the last 500 meters in good position that not very many people could out kick me. I dreaded the race for at least a week prior and before I raced in Athens, I remember sitting on the grass feeling like I could puke and saying "I just don't want to do this" as my number was getting pinned on. But there was always the adrenalin to get me through the first third...then came the middle third or so. Ugh. That's when things got tough..and ugly. That's when the gremlins started to really amp up the negativity..."omg, this hurts so bad" and "is it worth it to KILL yourself like this?" and "really? no one's watching...slow up a bit" or my favorite "does it really matter if it's fourth or sixth place?". I could usually keep them in check enough to stay in position, fighting myself to get where I wanted, and be in the right place to finish strong. I actually loved digging in deep and being able to find that last gear, pulling away and then the finish line...sweet finish line. To be able to stop, lie down, walk, and smile...knowing that it was all over (at least for now).
Well, here we are. Less than two weeks until Mario gets home after 13 months of being gone. Yes, we saw him occasionally and lastly, at Christmas...but that middle section sure kicked my butt this time. Right now, I've dug in and found that last gear to bring us all home to the finish. It's not easy as there have been a few obstacles to get over...including news that we were moving to Guam?! No wait...Hawaii! We are moving to Hawaii! No wait...Mario got selected for the job he wanted initially...here we come San Diego! Really? Well, we have a lease there and some "new" furniture for the house I found. but I guess if it's one thing I've learned...it's that flexibility is important as a military spouse. Things are not only probably going to change, they are almost guaranteed to NOT go as expected. Good training for me as I am not the world's most flexible person (figuratively not literally...of course I can touch way past my toes).
I am going to try in these last two weeks to catch up on the last two and a half months that I've been AWOL from posting. (Now that no one is following anymore...I guess it doesn't really matter since I am not doing this for any other reason but to connect with my family and dear friends...and to document these days for posterity. Someone posted a comment here with the message that "I (this anonymous person) used to get good advice/information here"...as if I was disappointing someone. Well? I am disappointed in myself and wish I haven't been so neglectful.) I wish I could keep my eyes open to have kept up with this...but in order to get through that tough middle part of this race we've been running? I needed to go to bed by 9. I needed to be a zombie in front of the stupid TV box for 15 minutes in order to numb my brain and stop the buzzing. I needed to write my husband or talk to him via Skype. I needed to quiet the gremlins so that I could be here in this position at the end...ready to kick it in.I am so proud of us and I'm so thankful that I was here for every last moment, even when it felt like someone was torturing me with sleep deprivation. Water board me any day...just don't wake me up hourly for weeks at a time. Mario will have a lot of catching up to do when he gets home but we will all be together again...in a new house, in a new city, in a new chapter. And for now anyway, the sleeping has found a better, more sane rhythm.
The boys are so different today than they were before our March "winter adventure". Xavi is now singing the Thomas songs, naming all the trains (even obscure ones that I only know because I can read), asking for "presents" when the UPS guy comes, talking in complete sentences, talking about going on the potty (not always going), riding ponies, asking for bandaids and "mednicine" to fix "poochies" (pokeys and ouchies put together), asking me "is you ok?", begging for "no time out, no time out" after hitting or pushing his brother, and saying "i sorry that happened" when he hurts himself.
Nico has two teeth, curly hair, and a determined spirit. Nothing stops him from his hearts desire and he wants to play with anything that is Xavi's or that Xavi is playing with. i thought I had another six months or so until i was breaking up "fights'...not so. He crawls like a maniac, pulls up on everything, swims like a fish, and smiles to light up the room. He puts everything in his mouth and gets mad when I take the plastic bag, paper envelope, magazine, or rocks away. He doesn't care that he isn't a goat. He wants what he wants and don't get in his way. (Oh dear...how did we get TWO of those??)
Their spirits are so different but their hugs, kisses, smiles, and dimples have kept me going. We are going to make it to the end...and I'm pretty sure that when we do, the feeling of completing this "race" will surpass any race I've ever run. Can I get an Amen?