5th Annual Love Runs through 5K for Sandy Hook

Five years ago I gathered a group of friends and friends of friends and ran my first “virtual” race; it was for Sandy Hook. The race, for me, was more than a 5K, so I developed a race course that was longer in length, and more meaningful in my heart. I mapped a course that would take us passed six of the nine elementary schools in my town. The other three just added too much mileage for my legs. At each school I would touch the flagpole (almost like a check in point). When I think of Newtown I think of many things, but first and foremost I think about the flagpole in the town’s center, in the middle of the road. So, this is how I would connect my running with the town. At the last school a friend showed support by leaving a case of water by the flagpole and some encouraging words in chalk. 

That was five years ago. This year I set out to run it again, virtually. I mapped a course that was shorter than before (my running has lapsed this year); it would take me by four elementary schools and my son’s middle school. I sent a quieter word out and two friends said they would try to join me. Yesterday at 8:00 I set out to run 9+ miles solo. At first I dwelled on doing it alone; I felt I needed the company from my friends to get me through the distance. Just as I was getting into a running groove, realizing each school was less than 2.5 miles apart, I saw a pair of Mallard ducks up ahead on the sidewalk. Seeing ducks in yards in my neighborhood is not unheard of, for the past two years I have surprisingly had a duck build a nest in my yard, but it is certainly still rare! Two ducks getting ready to cross the street in front of a city bus! I ran behind them encouraging them to waddle faster…the bus driver saw me and slowed down and smiled, I waved, then crossed the street again continuing on my run. DUCKS! I have seen turtles, rabbits, deer, even cows on my runs before, but never ducks! This was all the encouragement I needed. (check out this story from February 2013: http://www.nbcconnecticut.com/on-air/as-seen-on/Ducks-Of-Sandy-Hook_Hartford.html) 

During my run I thought about kids; my kids, the kids of Sandy Hook, all the kids I have been lucky enough to cross paths with. At State Road I thought about a student I met with weekly during my school counseling internship — I ran into her just the other week, six years later, she recognized me, said hello and we caught up a bit….it made my day that she acknowledged me, as she has grown into a beautiful young lady, but I don’t think I would have recognized her otherwise.

I thought about Newtown; the flagpole, the Edmund Town Hall where you can watch discount movies at a great price, eating ice cream at Ferris Creamery with my kids this past summer, eating many meals at the Exit 10 Diner (I miss diners! There’s nothing quite like them in the Midwest), and eating bagels from Bagel Delight.

At Longfellow Middle I thought not only about my son and his friends, teachers and classmates, but of the year I spent there also doing a school counseling internship. I thought about how it is the last building in town to become a secured building following the Sandy Hook tragedy. It’s doors are locked, but it isn’t until this summer that a new entrance will be built, flowing all foot traffic through the main office, like the other schools. When Longfellow was built 70+ years ago it was also used as a bomb shelter, the entrance wall is simply too thick to reconstruct, so a new main entrance will be added on to the existing main office just to the side of the main entrance. Post “Sandy Hook” our schools’ doors began being locked, lock down drills have become a part of our children’s lives and gun laws have created more headlines in our newspapers.

At Spence Elementary I thought of all the wonderful students and staff I just spent three months with while covering a maternity leave for the school counselor. There are wonderful, passionate and caring teachers throughout our school district, but to see it day in and day out for three months how students bond with their teachers, a fourth grader who truly wishes he still had his second grade teacher, the student who gets and gives hugs daily to teachers throughout the building and throughout his day; this all made me think of the teachers and staff whose lives were taken that cold day in December 2012.

At the flagpole in front of Hintgen Elementary I thought about my school counseling internship there and how when I was there my son was just in kindergarten (now in 7th grade). I thought about how I learned the power of using a puppet to connect with children, even if you’re not a ventriloquist. Kids at Head Start who I work with today and use a puppet with, may not always remember me or my name, but they remember my puppet and what “he” said. 

My knee began to ache so I took a walking break as I continued to Southern Bluffs, my kids’ elementary school and where I regularly sub. I eventually ran some more before walking the remaining 3+ miles. This virtual run of mine wasn’t so much about running as it was the cause and the kids. Southern Bluffs is on the edge of town and my course took me on a busy road and passed Wal-Mart where a man was standing at the entrance near the traffic light with a cardboard sign that said he was down on his luck and has two daughters. I was prepared to give him a smile and say hello as I ran past. He saw me coming and what he did next surprised me and made me smile. He pressed the walk button. It was such a simple gesture; such a polite, kind and thoughtful gesture……he saw what I needed, a walk sign so I didn’t have to stop running. As I ran by I said thank you and told him that I hoped that today was the day it all changed for him. Had I felt like I had more time or had I not been so focused on what I was doing, maybe I would have thought to ask him what he needed at this moment our lives were crossing. 

As I touched the flagpole at Southern Bluffs, there was no bottled water or notes on the ground or people around. I thought about how in the end all you have is yourself and how I enjoyed my solo run; I cheered myself on, I had deep thoughts in my mind, and thought about how five years ago my daughter was in kindergarten. I remembered picking her and her brother (then in third grade) up from school, all while my heart was breaking for those parents so near to my hometowns of Brookfield and Danbury, CT. My heart thanks them for turning this tragedy into a motto of “Love Runs Through” — kindness should be spread throughout all of our every days. 

Love Runs Through, and yesterday it ran through me as I ran through town.

A Photograph of Emotions

I was surprised to receive this photo in the mail the other day from a distant relative. My dad’s cousin, Marilyn, pictured three from the right in the front row sent it to me with a lovely note about recently receiving two copies of the photograph and thought I would like one. She mentioned that she wasn’t sure of the year, which led me, the youngest in the photo, to quickly try to figure out. 

My train of thought went something like this….my parents were still married, so it had to be before 1985, my brother looks the same as a photo I have seen many times over the years of him after an accident that happened in the early part of summer 1984, but his leg cast is off, my hairstyle matches that of my 4th grade school photo, taken later in 1984. Must be 1984! 

The train then switches tracks….wow, that would make me just a year older than my daughter is now and my son just a year older than my brother was. 

Next track….oh my G-d we are ALL in the same photograph! ALL meaning my mom, dad, brother, sister and I. This may very well be the only photo I have of us all; my mom was always the one taking photos and my dad was never quite fond of being in photos. 

The train, remaining on the same track veers…oh my G-d we are ALL smiling! Of course my parents aren’t next to each other, but we are ALL smiling! 

After analyzing this photo deeper it occurs to me that this one photo, possibly the only photo of the five of us shows my family just as it was/is. My sister, the firstborn, has her arm around my mom, touching her, laughing, showing how close the two of them have always been, friends. My brother, in the middle, just as in birth, is a balance between our parents, trying not to rock the boat. Then there’s me, the baby of the family, sitting on my dad’s lap, smiling, happy to be with him, happy he is there. 

Not only is a picture worth a thousand words, but many emotions as well. What a gift to have arrived in my mailbox, many miles and years away.

Imagine awakening very early for a 15 hour road trip home; after about eight hours you are stuck in bumper to bumper traffic and see THIS! Thanks to said bumper to bumper traffic I was able to ask the driver for a quick explanation. “I am an artist and I use them in my installations. I took them camping.” I would love to see his “installations” and his campsite neighbor must have had a plethora of interesting stories to bring home.

Been stuck in traffic for a LONG time!

A Parent’s Legacy

On Saturday I ran a half marathon. It was my fifth one, but each race is different. It had been a year and a half since my last half marathon and up until 11 weeks ago I had no plans to run another race of that distance. But than I heard about this race and what it was all about. Before I tell you the name of the race, I want to share with you the cause; because the catchy race name is not what drew me in. This inaugural race was founded by the daughter of a man who committed suicide two years ago. All money raised would go to a local organization/charity by the name of “Joe Was Just Joe,” named for another family’s son, who also committed suicide. http://joewasjustjoe.com/index.html The organization spends its money and time toward educating teenagers and young adults about suicide prevention. We’ve all had bad days, but imagine, and maybe you don’t even have to, if that day was so bad, or one of many so bad days that you believed the only thing that could make you happy again was if you were dead. 

People ask why I run and the answer is always the same. Because I can. Because, I have legs, because I am healthy, because I want to be healthier, because I feel great when it’s done, because I want to be a positive role model for my kids, and all kids, because I’m alive. Honestly, I run because I can. Because my body and mind are able to. So, on those training days I didn’t feel like running, because there are always days like that I thought about the cause of the race I was training for and I thought about how depression makes the simple task of getting out bed feel like you have a ton of bricks sitting on your chest making it impossible to get out bed. I ran because I could.

After spending two weeks on the injured list and not running, due to bruised ribs, and feeling a cold coming on the night before the race, I woke up early and went to run for all those whose lives were lost to suicide. I thought about the people who fought through depression by lacing up running shoes, or those who were running their first race or first half marathon that day and I showed up at the starting line.

I could tell you about how my knee started hurting at mile 8, or how I almost forget to pin my race number on, but instead I want to tell you about the woman I ran beside for just a short while whom I will always associate with this race. The back of her shirt said she was running in memory of her father, who likely had committed suicide. She motioned that she wanted to pass me and I said, “Go ahead you have more inner strength than I do.” She replied, “I’m not sure about that.” I smiled and said, “Your shirt tells me you do.” and she smiled back. I caught up to her just a few steps later and asked her if she minded if I asked her a question about her dad, she nodded. I asked her is she thought her dad would be proud of her or think she was crazy for running a half marathon. Now, this may sound like a rude question to you, but many people who do not run think runners are crazy, especially long distance runners. She smiled and said “he would be proud, definitely proud” of her. She then went on to share with me that he lived in La Crosse and was a runner who had run on this very same trail many times. I said, “Yes, he would be very proud then.” She said many of his nieces were running as well. My comment was, “It’s his legacy.” She smiled and her eyes lit up, I think she liked the sound of it. We went our separate ways, but she left me thinking about my own mother and how I consider her writing to be her legacy and I thought about how I hadn’t posted to this blog in a long time and for the next mile or so I thought about how I wanted to get back to writing more; for my mom. After the race was over I saw several people wearing a shirt that matched hers and they piled into a van (or SUV) with a Minnesota license plate…..they honored her dad by driving to run a race near where he lived to run on the same ground on the same trail he had run years before.

Oh and the name of the race? Mini Donut Half Marathon, named for Oly who according to his family (the organizers of the race) was at his happiest when he was making and selling mini donuts.

How to be a Parent?

Back in the spring I completed a training to become a facilitator for the ACT (adults and children together) Raising Safe Kids Program. I’m in the process of recruiting parents for my first 8 week session. Parenting classes have a negative stigma attached to them, but how does anyone really learn how to be a parent? This course focuses on a different topic each week* and all I keep thinking as I’m preparing to facilitate my first program is that this comes pretty close to teaching the foundation for parenting. 

But back to the previous questions, “How do you learn how to be a parent?” I am a strong believer that we learn how to parent from our parents first and foremost. You learn and choose what you want to do and what you don’t want to do, based on what they did or didn’t do while raising you. Secondly you learn from the parents around you, relatives, friends, even strangers you witness parenting. You learn by observation, just as our children learn how to behave by observing you and everyone around them. Parenting is also learned through trial and error.

But think for a minute, what if the only thing you learned from your parents was to provide food, shelter and clothing? Now, what if the only reason you learned that from them is because that’s what they didn’t  provide for you? How do you teach a person who was neglected or abused as a child how to be the parent they, as a child, needed?

* Week 1: Understanding Your Child’s Behavior

Week 2: Young Children’s Exposure to Violence

Week 3: Understanding and Controlling Parents’ Anger

Week 4: Understanding and Helping Angry Children

Week 5: Children and Electronic Media

Week 5: Discipline and Parenting Styles

Week 6: Discipline and Positive Behaviors

Week 7: Overcoming Barriers to Change and Making it Last

The Date of the Last Day of School

Today, June 4th, is the last day of school for my 2nd and 5th graders. I just brought them to school, my oldest for his last day of elementary school. This is not a post about being sad. They have both, once again, ended the school year making me proud with many accomplishments, both academic and social. They are leaving behind teachers who are proud of them and I believe their words wholeheartedly when they say they loved/enjoyed having them in their class. 

No, this is a post about the actual date of the last day of school. Here, in Wisconsin one day was already factored into the school calendar for a snow day, or cold day as it was used. There were no additional days added on, usually there are just a few, so today, June 4th, is their last day of school. They started after Labor Day and had a short spring break, but I still can’t help but compare it to my last day of school, my senior year. Fellow DHS 1993 graduates know what I’m talking about. It was the year graduation was held on June 30th, teaching us all that it was the last “legal” day in CT that school could be held, giving us the bragging rights of the last graduating class in the state. If it rained and graduation couldn’t be held on the football field no one knew what the effect would be. I don’t remember the speeches, I apologize to those who worked tirelessly writing them, but I remember seeing a great friend’s smile across the field of chairs and a gray cloud overhead hoping it didn’t produce rain (which it did not). There was major construction on the school, over winter break asbestos was found so break was lengthened, the blizzard of ’93 hit in April resulting in yet more days off of school. Then, ironically, we had several days cut short because it was too hot in the building. I still remember that if it was 80° and 80% humidity on the 5th floor of the science building (it was a big school) by noon we’d have an early release. (If I remember correctly 22 years later).

The last day of school. June 4th?! Single digits of June?! Yep, not in my childhood, but in my adult life, and I’m good with that…..bring on the last day of school traditions!!! For us, it starts with a trip to the ice cream shop, what are your last day of school traditions?

Maybe this photo was taken on June 4, 1993?

I Am. I Do.

A newly recognized goal in life of mine has recently been met. The other day an acquaintance-friend of mine reached out for help after discovering bruises on her children; suspecting abuse. When we spoke on the phone she explained that she didn’t know what I did (for work), but knew I was the right person to ask for help and guidance based on things I post on Facebook. See, I only post things on Facebook that I believe in and support. For the past 13 1/2 years I have been an active member of the Coulee Region Child Abuse Prevention Task Force, even in the years that I was a stay-at-home mom; I believe I was the first “community activist” to be a member. I have four years of volunteer experience at a domestic violence shelter and another five years working as a children’s advocate for another domestic violence shelter. I am now a licensed school counselor who is in her third year working, on paper, as the mental health consultant for Head Start in four counties. To parents and staff alike I changed my title to School Counselor. 

I continue to be active in the fight against child abuse and when she asked me, “What DO you do?” it actually made me smile and it was then that I realized that I would much rather be known for who I AM than what I DO.