Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

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A funny thing happened on the way to Bible study

Fact: Our church’s women’s Bible study meets on Tuesday nights.

Fact: I usually attend these meetings.

Fact: It is finals week for my seminarian husband.

Fact: I am currently reading a book called “Forgotten God” by Francis Chan.

Fact: I am utterly clueless when it comes to understanding the Holy Spirit’s leading.

Scenario: It is Tuesday, a cold, bitter, sunless pre-winter day. I am typically exhausted from chasing kids all morning and overwhelmed by the condition of my house. I also miss spending time with my husband. We call these days the zombie days. He is here, present in the house, but not exactly “with us” if you know what I mean. He is reading about theological things I can’t spell or pronounce, formulating 10-page papers in his head. I am tempted to skip Bible study this night to have more time with him when he gets home from work. Before he leaves for work, he agrees and doesn’t try to talk me out of skipping. My mind is nearly made up to stay home.

The kids and I start playing. Isabelle’s current favorite game is “parade” where she pretends she’s in one and throws “candy” to Corban and me, sitting on a blanket on the other side of the room. The “candy” is often stuffed animals  or bouncy balls. The rule is: only throw soft things. For good reason. So, we’re playing, and I’m thinking about what to have for dinner when this feeling comes over me. Have you ever had one of those? It sort of wells up from somewhere inside me and nags at  my heart. I don’t panic, exactly, but it’s a feeling I can’t ignore. And all of a sudden, I feel like I MUST go to Bible study tonight. My first question is: why? And then my mind starts to wander down dark paths. Am I supposed to go because something is supposed to happen to me tonight? Am I going to be in a car wreck? Or maybe I’m supposed to leave the house because something’s going to happen here? And I freak out about the house possibly burning down in my absence. Or maybe I just need to help someone. Or, or, or …

I can’t shut it off, and I can’t ignore the pressing feeling that I need to go to Bible study. I can’t call my husband and tell him that plans have changed, so I just prepare for plans to change. We eat supper. The kids get their jammies on. They are, as usual, as ready for bed as I can get them before I leave the house. Now, I wait on my husband to get home from work. He walks in the door. I tell him how I feel. He immediately tells me that he didn’t eat at work. We talk a little more and he lets me make the decision, telling me he can handle himself and the kids while I’m gone.

I’m somewhat scared. But I can’t ignore the tug. I’m going. Shoes, coat, purse, book, kisses and hugs, and I’m off. Slightly excited. Somewhat anticipatory. My eyes scan the road and sidewalk, looking for a sign from God of why I felt compelled to leave the house when earlier I was set on staying home. I drive, and my heart catches in my throat with every car that passes. I’m driving, I’m looking, I’m seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

I arrive safely at Bible study. We have a good discussion. I can’t stop eating the Cheez-Its sitting in front of me. I drive home, still with alert eyes to what God might have had in mind for the evening. At home, everything is as it should be. The kids are safely and soundly in bed. My husband is finally eating his supper. “Biggest Loser” is about to come on.

“I have no idea why I needed to leave the house,” I tell my husband.

Then I think about it, and I wonder. This book I’m reading, “Forgotten God,” is all about being more aware of and obedient to the Holy Spirit, the so-called “forgotten” person of the Trinity. I’m about halfway through the book, and I’ve been challenged throughout. Was this another challenge? A test of obedience, of sorts? Would I obey the Spirit’s leading, even if I didn’t understand why, if I had no inkling of the reason, if it didn’t make sense? This is often how the Spirit works, and it’s been a long time since I’ve felt this kind of leading and tug. At least a long time since I’ve felt it and acted on it.

Maybe that was the whole purpose. Maybe it’s something I don’t know about. I’m tempted to say it was nothing, just my imagination. Maybe you’re tempted to say that, too. But I’m convinced that it wasn’t.

I am too easily led by my own whims, desires and wants, so I welcome the Spirit’s resurgence in my life to lead me in ways I couldn’t imagine. I looked at the world around me in a new way that night, eager and expectant for God to show me where He was working and how I could be a part of it.

May it be so every day of my life.

Blog tour: Inspired Design

About the Book
Hannah & Roxanne Packham

Inspired Design by Roxanne Hughes Packham and Hannah Packham (Inspired Designs Publications, 2010)

Drawing from the highly-published designs she’s created for hundreds of clients, Packham will inspire you to create a home that touches the souls of those within. Amid stunning photography, stories of treasured family traditions and poignant observations by 16-year-old daughter Hannah, she shares ideas that will help you create beauty, warmth and passion in your home, and make it an inspired design. “Do not underestimate the power of your home, nor its ability to change lives,” writes designer Roxanne Hughes Packham. “A cup of hot tea and an hour in a cozy nook spent listening to a friend can be life-altering. Sending well-loved, cared for children into the world to contribute to our society in positive meaningful ways is one of the most significant contributions, if not the most significant contribution, you will ever make, and your home is a major part of this endeavor.”

100% of the profits of this book go to charity: Heart of Hope, Local Food Pantry, Inspired 31 and more

Produced and made 100% in America.

Written by granddaughter of Allan Adler, noted American silversmith, and great-granddaughter of Porter George Blanchard, also known as “silversmith to the stars”, Packham’s history and knowledge of silver and flair for table settings prove to be a winning combo. Ideas for sentimental parties, and occasions for teenage girls, and mothers & others, celebrating friends & friendship. Inspirational for incorporating family history, talents, and passions into the design of the family home.

About the Authors

Roxanne Hughes Packham is an acclaimed interior designer whose classic designs grace hundreds of California homes from San Francisco to San Diego. She comes from a long line of gifted artisans, including world-renowned silversmiths Allan Adler (her grandfather) and Porter Blanchard (her great-grandfather). Roxanne is a graduate of the University of Southern California and Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising, Los Angeles; she studied design at Paris Fashion Institute and the Sorbonne. Her work has been featured in numerous design publications, including Life: Beautiful, California Homes, Dream Homes of Coastal California, Kitchen Style & Design, Dream Log Homes, Westlake Malibu Lifestyle, Kitchen Ideas That Work, Bath Ideas That Work, The Smart Approach to Kitchen Design, The Smart Approach to Bath Design, The Color Idea Book, The Window Treatment Idea Book, and more. She makes her home in Southern California, with her husband Scott, and their children, Hannah and Justin.

Hannah Packham is continuing her family’s long tradition of design excellence. Last summer, Hannah studied design at the University of Southern California. Hannah is a top scholar, and has been named to the Headmaster & Deans List at Oaks Christian High School, where she is currently a student. She was selected to represent OCHS as a member of the “Lion’s Voice,” a school-selected tour guide program. She is also a varsity athlete in pole-vaulting and studied pole-vaulting at the University of California Los Angeles during the summer 2009. Her interests include Classical ballet dancing, skiing and modern dance. She has made mission trips to Costa Rica (2009) and Romania (2010). She has been selected to participate in Rotary Leadership Conference 2010.

Mark Lohman is a southern California-based photographer whose specialties include interior, garden and architectural photography. His distinctive photographs have appeared in numerous design and architectural publications, including Veranda, Architectural Record, Luxe, Coastal Living, House Beautiful, California Homes, and many more. Mark is a graduate of the University of Southern California and Brooks Photography Institute.

Why did you write Inspired Design with your daughter?

My grandfather (Silversmith Allan Adler) passed this love of design to me, so it just seemed a natural, alongside a book about the design and subsequent use of our homes, infused with family heritage that my daughter who lives along side me take a large part the powerful subject of “the home”. I also wanted to create a place where we could initiate, create, and complete a project where my daughter, Hannah, could learn along side me both the practical and the ethical implications of a project this size, where all the profits go to a charity that is dear to our hearts, Heart of Hope Ministries, Intl. I wanted to show her an example of using our talents and gifts for the enjoyment of others, while benefiting others, not ourselves. It wasn’t to be pious, but just a fun way to give back and truly make a difference while doing something together that we loved!

What is Inspired Design?

A book about three aspects of the home and how it’s power to touch the souls of those within. Those three aspects are designing for warmth and beauty to nurture others, meaningful touches and gestures to celebrate and honor your loved ones on special occasions and ordinary days, and lastly that it is not what we have or do not have that blesses others, and changes lives, but how we use what we have. It is about incorporating YOUR family heritage, and your unique gifts, into making a beautiful, family home.

Inspired Design has had such a wonderful response, without a traditional publisher, distributor, or agent; why do you think that is?

It resonates in the spirit of women, who want to make a positive impact on their families and loved ones. The blessing of word of mouth publicity has really caused this book to sell and touch the hearts of every woman that has read it. They tell one friend, and so on and so on. For example, Jill Foster, Author of Creative Cakes Anyone Can Make, raves, “Your Inspired Design is amazing. I have devoured it, sipping coffee as I have enjoyed reading each page. Your family legacy is depicted in beautiful illustration. Having Hannah’s words throughout the book is wonderful.”

We heard that one customer in Coronado, California has reordered about 10 books, each one as a gift for friends’ birthdays, what is it that she finds so touching?

She is someone I have never met, but she said she found it so real, beautiful, uplifting and from such a realistic perspective on touching others with the bonus of spectacular homes and photography the combination makes her want to give it to all her friends for their birthdays. She loves the blog that goes alongside it as well, with weekly tips and suggestions to make others feel special. http://www.inspireddesignpublications.blogspot.com

I know that a mother-daughter ministry, “Inspired 31”, has begun along side of Inspired Design, why do you think it has resonated so powerfully?

Especially in this economic climate so many women are more resolute than ever that their families are the most important thing in their lives and their daughters, or close friends, should be celebrated and cherished. Without exception our gatherings (3 so far, in its first 3 months) have attracted hundreds of mother/daughter/sister/friend combinations wanting to come, for 2 hours, and celebrate what is good, pure, worthy of praise, especially each other. Inspired 31’s mission is to teach girls (and now even woman of all ages) to find and follow God’s unique path for their lives. We have inspiring speakers, and a wonderful positive/uplifting program. We have people inquiring about beginning a chapter in their area, in many cities.

Where can we purchase a copy of Inspired Design? Also, we heard this book is helping orphans and teenage girls as well.

Inspired Design makes a perfect gift with so many ideas for making Christmas, or any holiday, more special with all kinds of thoughtful little details.

100% of the profits go to Heart of Hope, which benefits orphans in Romania, and Inspired 31, a mother-teenage girl ministry. With each purchase you are helping all kinds of different children.

Please visit my web site at http://inspireddesignpublications.com/.

Lisa’s review: I have to admit I was a little intimidated by this book at first. Packham’s credentials and heritage are impressive, to say the least, but I wondered how her experience of designing for homes in California, coupled with her family link to some notable names, would apply to my low-budget design lifestyle in a rental house. Her advice certainly is inspiring. As I read I kept thinking about going shopping — the treasure hunt sort of shopping at thrift stores and rummage sales that might yield interesting finds for my home. She offers practical tips for even low budgets. I most appreciated her stories of buying “souvenirs” that mean something and will last forever — pieces she could use in her home for entertaining — rather than “junk” that only amounts to clutter. She also advises focusing on one aspect of a room at a time, such as buying cloth napkins one year and plates the next. If I had to criticize anything, it’s that she often mentioned a specific style of something, like curtains or dishes, and I couldn’t picture what it looked like because I was unfamiliar with the term. That’s more a reflection of my unfamiliarity with design terms, though, I think. The book is filled with beautiful pictures and is, indeed, inspiring to the woman who wants to make the most of her home to the glory of God.

A complimentary copy of this book was provided to me as a blog tour host by Inspired Design Publications in exchange for posting this interview on my blog. Please visit Christian Speaker Services at www.ChristianSpeakerServices.com for more information about blog tour management services.

 

Ron Santo could teach us a lot about believing in faith

“Oh, no.”

My husband uttered those words minutes after waking up and per his usual morning routine, logging on to ESPN’s Web site for the morning’s sports news. Whenever he says, “Oh, no” I think something must have happened in our family or to a close friend or something. I forget that in some cases, sports is like family to him. “The Tribune is reporting that Ronnie died,” he said.

“Ron Santo?” I asked in disbelief. I knew that must have been who he was talking about. There are no other “Ronnie”s in our life.

Though I never met him, I felt a bit of grief come over me. And a longing to be in Illinois. I prefer to grieve with those who grieve and in Illinois we would find no shortage of baseball fans grieving this loss. In Pennsylvania, we might find a handful of fellow Cubs fans who will miss the fun Santo provided to radio listeners. Mostly, though, we will process this loss alone. And the grief may not be as heavy as it would be if we were in Illinois.

He wasn’t family or a close friend, so maybe it seems weird to be affected by his death, but anyone who listened to radio broadcasts of Cubs games felt a connection to Ron. His whole heart and soul was in every game, even if they were losing by 10 or mathematically out of the pennant race by July. He lived and breathed the Cubs. Now the Cubs will have to go on without him.

What saddens me most about his death is all the accomplishments he won’t get to see. He died without seeing the Cubs win a World Series. He died without being voted into the Hall of Fame. Those things may yet happen, but he won’t be around to celebrate them.

The Bible has its own “Hall of Fame” in Hebrews 11. The writer of the book lists people who accomplished great things for God, who suffered great things for Him. Yet, it says this about them: “These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised.” (Hebrews 11:39)

Seems unfair, right? To live a life of faithfulness and service and never see the end result.

Hebrews also says this: “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see” (11:1) and “without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him.” (11:6)

Ron Santo epitomizes faith to me. I don’t know his personal beliefs about God, Jesus or heaven, but in terms of the Cubs, he had faith in the tough times. He never gave up on them. He faithfully did his job day after day, believing that someday the reward would come. Sure, he had his ups and downs. He was openly disappointed about the close calls, the failed seasons and the mistakes. But that didn’t stop his faith in the Cubbies.

I am a Cubs fan, but I don’t pin my hopes on them for anything. My hope is in the living God, the Lord Jesus Christ, who is infinitely more faithful than a sports team could ever be. (That feels like the world’s biggest understatement.) But I’m humbled by the faith of this baseball legend, wholly committed, fiercely loyal to his team. My faith in God should be as such, whether I ever see the reward this side of heaven or not.

The one that got away

A year ago, you stole my heart, and we’d only just met. You were long-awaited, much-anticipated, already loved. We didn’t know for sure if you’d be a girl or a boy; we welcomed the surprise. Your birth was not as smooth as we expected or hoped, but you arrived, safe, healthy and BIG. That last part hasn’t changed. You were off to the races on your growth from Day 1. People speculate that you’ll be a football player because of your size. Some days, like the ones where you knock everything in sight with your head, I wonder, too. Whether you are or aren’t won’t matter. Still, it’s fun sometimes to wonder what you’ll be like as you get older.

But I get ahead of myself. Today, it’s about the first year of your life. We’ll have many years, God willing, to talk about the rest of the years of your life.

It would be impossible for me to pick what I love most about you. Even after a year, I hardly know you. But I also know you better than anyone else. The bond between a mother and child — an indescribable sweetness I never knew existed before you and your sister came into our life. But this smile, it’s up there on the list. People are always saying what a happy baby you are. I can’t disagree with them. Even when you fuss, it’s for a good reason and is usually easily solved. Your face is so expressive. I can’t imagine you have any idea what you’re holding, but it’s colorful and squishy and your sister helped you pull it out of a brightly colored bag, so it must be the best. thing. ever. This smile could pull me out of a blue mood any day and it often has. You are my joy on this earth.

 And you are bound to give me more trouble than I think I can handle. The look says it all. Oh, to be able to read your mind. Wait, I take that back. Soon enough, you’ll be telling me what you think. You have a mischievous streak that I will try to enjoy, even if it causes me extra work, extra strength, extra prayer. I will not cease to pray for you, even if the boy horror stories I hear from other mothers never show themselves in your life. I am not holding my breath.

It seemed only yesterday you were a baby, cuddled in my arms, sleeping soundly in the bassinet in our room. Now, look at you. Walking, trying to say words, following your sister around copying her every action. I fear that I’m going to wake up one morning and you’ll be a man, and I’ll wonder not only where the last year went but where the last 10 years, 15 years, 20 years went. And I’ll hope that I cherished them.

Too often I find myself not enjoying this season of motherhood as much as I think I should. That doesn’t mean I don’t love you and your sister. How could I not. You both are spontaneous and outgoing, two things I am not, and remind me so much of your father. I fell in love with him first, so naturally, when I see him in the two of you, I fall a little deeper in love with you and with him. Too mushy? OK, I’ll get back to what I was saying. Being your mom isn’t easy, but it’s the best job I’ve ever had. Because there are times like this:

When I’m laughing so hard, I can’t catch my breath. Your father has that effect on me. He can make the toughest times light. I can see, based on his influence with your sister, that I may find myself outnumbered in the silliness, outgoingness department. C’est la vie.

So, it’s your birthday. One year. You’re already outpacing your sister’s growth and development, which means I will be on my toes. A lot. You’ll be keeping me there. I can see the twinkle in your eye as you reach for your cake. Let me have it, mom.

Boy, did we.

Dig in to life, son. It’ll be messy, at times, but you’ll find a sweet reward in the end. I love you and can’t wait to see what the next year brings.

Mom

Sick people

“Mommy, are people sick here?”

The young boy’s question caught my attention as we sat in the waiting room of the counseling center. I didn’t hear his mother’s answer, but I wondered the same thing myself the first time we went for counseling. The people waiting with us that day looked so normal, I remember thinking. If I’d met any of them on the street, I wouldn’t have thought they needed to see a counselor. People might say the same thing about my husband and me.

We’re not outwardly having problems, but we’re seeing a counselor to help us with our marriage. I don’t have to tell you that, but I want you to know that things aren’t always what they seem.

I forget that all the time. Never more than when I walk into my church building on Sunday mornings.

Honestly, I’ve never thought to ask my Father, “Daddy, are people sick here?”

Some people are more obvious about their needs, their failures, their weaknesses than others, but even if those things aren’t visible, we all walk around with some kind of sickness. In college, I remember interviewing a girl who used a wheelchair. I can’t exactly remember the reason, but I won’t ever forget what she said: “We all have handicaps. You can just see mine.”

We’re all sick with something: pride, envy, prejudice, lust, unforgiveness, worry, fear … you name it.

I’ve heard it said that churches are to be like hospitals where sick people get well. Instead, we walk around dismembered, disfigured and dying, figuratively speaking, pretending like nothing’s wrong.

I’m guilty of telling people I’m fine when I’m not, and I’m guilty of assuming everyone else has their lives all together when they don’t. And I forget to treat people with compassion because I can’t see their injuries, their sicknesses.

Are there sick people here? Oh, yeah. And I’m one of them.

Jesus answered them, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.” (Luke 5:31-32, NIV)

And just like that, it was over

Nine weeks ago, pretty much to the day, Phil and I committed to a running plan that would enable us to run a 5K — me for the first time, him the first time not in the Army and the first in 5 years. I remember the day we shopped for gear, anticipating the next day’s training session — a gradual introduction to running. At that time I could not imagine actually being ready to run a 5K in 9 weeks. Not without walking. Or collapsing. Or puking. Not intentionally. Not for fun.

I still couldn’t believe we were doing it, even as I started the day before sunup with the two early bird kiddos awake and raring to go.

We left the house at 7, loaded down with snacks and drinks, mostly for the little ones, and uncertainty. It was cold. Frost on the car windows and the ground, a chill in the air. But it’s November; what did we expect?

We were dropped off in the parking lot of the Lebanon Farmer’s Market, close to where the race would start. Blew kisses to the kids, whom we hoped we’d see later on the route, and took this picture after affixing our numbers to our shirts.

We cut through the farmers market building, receiving second glances as we did. It’s been four years. I’m sure they’re used to it by now. Potty break, then out to the street to mill around with the other runners.

We felt appropriately dressed, unlike the man we saw running around the block wearing only shorts, socks and shoes. Brr, I thought. Now, he’s crazy.

More than 200 people eventually gathered at the start line. Maybe we’re all crazy, I thought. 8 a.m. on a chilly Saturday morning in November and we’re getting ready to run 3 miles? And we paid money to do it? Yeah, we could definitely be called crazy.

After a few muffled announcements and a jaw-dropping rendition of “The Star-Spangled Banner” by a girl who didn’t look much older than 12, I let out a squeal of sorts and then we were running.

What a sight. We were near the back of the pack, purposely, and we could see the rows of runners fill the street from side to side as they traversed the blocks ahead of us.

Not long into our run, the 10K’ers split off to the Rail Trail while we crested the hill toward Lebanon High School. We passed the finish line as it was being set up and the clock said 10 minutes. We were just about a mile into our run, and feeling good.

We wound through the parking lot of the high school toward a second entrance to the rail trail, volunteers pointing us in the right direction, cheering us on.

A mile behind us, we settled in to our pace on the trail. Just over a bridge, we glimpsed our kids, sitting snugly in the jogging stroller. Yesterday, Isabelle said she was going to say, “Go, Mommy! Go, Daddy!” I was teary just thinking about it as we ran. She got shy and just smiled and waved. Still, they were a sight for sore eyes. Or maybe legs?

Mile 2 was the longest part of the run. A straight stretch that felt like it was going to last forever. People started passing us going the other direction. First a few, then larger and larger packs of people. We knew the turnaround must be getting close. As the water station came into view, we could see people turning around. Two miles were soon behind us.

The home stretch found us leap frogging, per se, with a woman and two young girls, maybe 10 or 11, who alternately walked and ran. Spoiler alert: The girls finished before we did, which made me feel a little sad until Phil reminded me that those girls weren’t fat and hadn’t made two babies. Touche.

We passed our kids again. It was almost over.

A man on a bicycle rode toward us announcing we only had half a mile to go. I was beginning to believe we could do this.

We left the trail and headed back through the parking lot of the high school toward the finish line. People cheered for us. They called out our race numbers in encouragement to finish. The cheers got louder the closer we got.

Phil reached back and grabbed my hand, and the emotional dam broke. I was sobbing as I tore the tag from my number and handed it to the guy collecting them. Phil sympathy cried for a few minutes until he thought he might hyperventilate. The last few months have, at times, been a living hell for us. So many things have carried us through: prayers, notes of encouragement, shows of support, even the running. We don’t plan to stop running or exercising together, but finishing the 5K felt like closing the door on a tough chapter of our lives. Now, we look ahead.

I can’t forget to mention that seeing our time as we approached the finish line added to our mental state. We finished in 36:34. Our best 3-mile time yet, much less 3.2 miles.

We caught our breaths, walked around, found the cafeteria and gulped some water. Walked some more, ate orange slices and a couple of cookies. Grabbed more water, then went to meet the rest of the family.

We’re beat but proud of our accomplishment. Worn down but hopeful.

Home before 10 a.m. Eggs, bacon and toast for breakfast. Showers. Comfy clothes. Back to reality.

If my legs weren’t sore, I’d think maybe the whole thing was a dream, it all happened so fast.

Here we are after the race. I feel amazingly close to my husband right now. Getting through trial will do that to you, I guess.

My ever-thoughtful parents sent us these, delivered to our door a few hours after we got home.

I can’t say where the next months are going to take us, but something has changed in me as a result of this part of the journey. I feel stronger, tougher. Yet also humbled and awestruck. Running has deepened my faith at the same time it has toned my muscles. I’m more convinced than ever that the Lord works in mysterious ways.

Running was not one of my ways to fix what was broken in our lives.

He knew better.

He always does.

We smell like bacon and we’re here to pick up our race packets

Pre-race meal: Chicken carbonara.

We cooked bacon this afternoon. And chicken.

Then, we headed to the Y to pick up our race packets.

It was kind of like Christmas, digging in to see what kinds of goodies we had.

Water bottle. Snacks. A long-sleeve, running T-shirt. And most importantly, our numbers. I’ll be the one wearing “4”. Phil is “5.”

We have a plan for the morning. Where to drop the runners off. Where to park the car. Where the kids can see us run past. What the kids will do in the meantime till we reach the end.

We’re ready to go.

 Here we are, post-rapture.

Kidding, of course.

All that’s left to do is drink some more water, sleep, wake up, dress and head out the door.

Tomorrow, then?

See you on the other side.

Now, we’re on our own

Week 9, Day 3. I should have posted this yesterday but the final 3-mile run in our couch to 5K training plan kicked my butt. Could have been the not so great sleep from the night before. Or the 25 mph winds we were running in. Or that I’d been at the grocery store all morning with the kids and thus was on my feet more than usual before a run. Yeah, I’m hoping it was one or all of those things. Phil, on the other hand, said it was his best run yet. He’d only had 2 hours of sleep the night before. He’s half seriously considering that as a strategy for running the 5K. Head in a fog = no pain. I think I’ll choose sleep, thanks.

38 minutes and some change. Running into the wind was a killer.

My encouragement is this: No matter what happens on Saturday, we completed a 9-week running program and can now run 3 miles. Two things I never imagined I would do and enjoy.

It’s been a crazy, wonderful journey and I know it’s not over, per se, but I feel a bit like the Biggest Loser contestants who go home — We’re on our own now to keep up the training.

Thanks for all your encouragement, support and advice through this whole thing. Two more days. I can’t wait.

What is THAT smell?

Week 9, Day 2. 3 more miles. 37:28. An out-of-town hilly route. The fun thing about running is noticing what you don’t normally when you’re driving. Like the beautiful country homes near the creek. Bridges and underpasses.

And, today, smells.

Running through the underpass brought a whiff of something stale and moldy.

Past a machine shop of some kind where the odor was so strong I wanted to vomit. (That’s the smell of death, my husband informed me later.) OK. Should we call the police? There were definitely signs of life, but the smell … oh, I won’t soon forget it.

Manure. Myerstown often smells like manure because it’s surrounded by dairy and cattle farms. Today, though, I was sure I’d stepped in it. Nope, just in the air.

Everything’s sore today. One more training run before the big day on Saturday. Can’t believe the goal is so close. And we’re still standing. Still having fun.

This time next week

Week 9, Day 1. The beginning of the end. Or is it the beginning of the beginning? A tough 3 miles today. Mostly because it’s Saturday and we’re tired and 3 miles is a long way to run. My legs are still aching, but maybe that just means it was a good workout.

One week till 5K and I’m starting to think of logistics. Where will we park? How far is the beginning from the end? How early do we show up? Will it be feasible for the kids and their grandparents to see us at the end? What am I going to wear? Those are just today’s questions. But this time next week, none of those questions will matter. Barring any debilitating injury this week (Please, God, don’t let that happen!) I will have run a 5K. Our goal is 40 minutes. Today’s 3 mile run was 37:26, so it’s possible. Probable even. But the course is unfamiliar to us, so we’ll see how it goes.

I’m also looking ahead to what happens next. So, we’ve had this training plan to run a 5K. What do we do when the 5K is over to maintain or continue our training? It may have to be indoor and low-cost, so I’m open to suggestion if you have any. I don’t want to lose the winter and end up starting couch to 5K over again in the spring, but winter does pose its share of problems for fitness.

Three miles. I once thought it impossible, avoidable and miserable. I’m on the other side of that fence now. I think I might be on the verge of loving running. Who’d have thunk it?