Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

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There’s more to Jersey than the ‘Shore’

New Jersey. The Garden State. Every time I see this slogan on a license plate, I think of Sandra Bullock in “Miss Congeniality,” when asked a sample question about her home state, “Why is New Jersey called the Garden State?” answering “Because ‘Oil and Petrochemical Refinery State’ wouldn’t fit on a license plate?” That, and SNL’s Governor Patterson sneering when he says the words “New Jersey.” Oh, yeah, and “Jersey Shore.” Never seen an episode. Don’t have to. Snookie makes enough news that I don’t need to watch.

Before Friday, I had never been to New Jersey. The only reason my family and I found ourselves traveling through the Garden State was because access to Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty seemed easier for us, coming from Pennsylvania, than to drive into New York City. So I was surprised by a number of positive and curious points of our trip.

Curious point No. 1: It turns out these two national monuments are at least partly part of New Jersey. My husband was alerted to this when he saw that the Statue of Liberty was going to be on a New Jersey coin (quarter? dollar? I can’t remember.). All this time, when I heard Statue of Liberty, I thought New York. Not so. Not so. And according to a native New Jerseyan I know, getting to the statue is nicer from the Jersey side. At right is a picture of the old train and ferry station that now is used for ferry tickets and boarding. Pretty neat.

It certainly was easy to get there from the Jersey side. And I must say, the view of the New York City skyline was striking. Like, all of a sudden, it was there and I didn’t realize it. And I didn’t think it would be as close as it was. We considered for a moment taking the Holland Tunnel into the city just so we could be IN New York City but time didn’t allow. Phil and I desperately want to go to New York. We love cities and being from near Chicago, we have to check out the “competition.” (Your pizza will never beat our pizza, though. Sorry. It’s true.)

We picnic lunched in the park before lining up to board our ferry. Before boarding our ferry, we had to succumb to an airport-style security screening. Fact: I have not flown on an airplane since 9/11. Fact: Security screenings sort of scare me. I was holding Corban. I had to remove his hat and lower his hood. (Warning: Rant. I don’t even want to think about the kind of people who would use their kids to smuggle stuff illegally. OK. I’m done.) My dad had to take his boots off. My mom lost a pair of fingernail scissors to the Great Beyond of Illicit Carry-Ons. Phil had to take his belt off. I quote: “If I wasn’t losing weight, I wouldn’t even be wearing a belt.” Losing weight is good. Having to take your belt off in a room full of people waiting to board a ferry, not so much.

So much excitement and we hadn’t even left New Jersey yet! We bundled up and boarded the ferry, choosing to ride in the open, even in the cool air because the views were unbelievable. As you can see, Corban is all set, having survived the screening just fine.

 We had checked the map on the way in and I was certain we’d be able to see the Brooklyn Bridge. Another fact: Phil is obsessed with the Brooklyn Bridge since reading a book about its construction a few summers ago. So I took a bazillion pictures of it, most of which looked like this:

Minus the seagull, of course. I could tell you I did this on purpose, but it was a surprise to me when I viewed the photos this week.

A short ferry ride and we arrived at Ellis Island. This was our boat. Just kidding. Ours was much nicer.

I didn’t know what to expect going in. I don’t know if I have any ancestors who came through there. Phil’s great-grandparents came through Ellis Island from Germany. We knew that. Here’s what I can say about the experience: I was moved beyond words and inspired to read more about the island’s history. In the crowds of tourists, I could feel the confusion of being dropped into a place where you didn’t know what would happen. With the skylines of New York visible from the windows, I could feel a longing to be there. So close, yet still so far from your hopes and dreams. With my son wrapped on my husband’s back, I could identify with the women in photos with babies wrapped to their chests, carrying so much more than what they could fit in a trunk or a basket. And those trunks and baskets, holding everything important to them in the world. What would go in my trunk, my basket? We need a U-Haul and a truck to move all our stuff when we change locations.

There’s not a lot to see at Ellis Island, but I could see and feel the history in that place. Maybe it’s the connection with Phil’s family. The young couple in his family who arrived at Ellis Island from Germany are not related to me, but they are part of my children’s ancestry now. That excites me.

Isabelle fell asleep on Phil’s shoulders (he wasn’t wearing Corban at the time … he’s a great dad but even that would be asking too much and might be next to impossible). A brief nap before catching the next ferry to the Statue of Liberty. So long, Ellis Island.

The Statue of Liberty is such an icon for this country that I didn’t know how to respond to seeing it in person. Before we left the shore, I was giddy with excitement. I told Phil that I tended to geek out when seeing a famous landmark for the first time. In our three years of marriage we hadn’t had this experience yet. It reminded me a little of Paris when I was in college. Every time I saw the Eiffel Tower anywhere in the city, I took a picture. It was THE reason I wanted to go to Paris and it was the symbol of the city to me. I might have annoyed the friends who were traveling with me. Seeing Lady Liberty was a little like that. I peeked out a window at Ellis Island and saw the statue. Of course, I took a picture. When we actually arrived on the island, though, the statue was sort of a letdown. We didn’t have monument access, so we just walked around the island. How long can you look at a statue? I wondered. People-watching, though, could have gone on for hours. Do you know how frustrated people can get trying to get a group picture in front of the statue that includes the entire statue and no other people? It’s no easy feat. Here’s our offering:

Now that I look at the pictures, though, I’m pretty excited that we had the opportunity to see this landmark. Next goal: to set foot in New York City.

Our trip home offered more curious points of New Jersey. Like roundabouts and all turns from the right. And full-service gas stations. Apparently it’s illegal to pump your own gas in New Jersey. (I don’t think it’s actually illegal, but all the gas stations we saw were full serve.) My husband was surprised when a man approached the driver’s side window and asked for a credit card. He then pumped the gas and returned the card so we know it wasn’t a scam. My New Jersey friend said it’s to give people jobs. My dad theorized that it had something to do with drive-offs. Anyone else want to weigh-in?

We ate at a Perkins where the wait staff was entirely of an undetermined ethnicity. But we ordered enough entrée food to receive two free appetizers — more food than any of us could finish easily.

And I don’t know if this is a curious thing about New Jersey or Pennsylvania, but you don’t have to pay a toll to enter New Jersey from PA, but you do have to pay a toll to re-enter PA from NJ. Weird. Or smart. The jury’s still out.

All I know is we had a great day, tired though we were, and my opinion of New Jersey has improved. Maybe next visit we’ll actually check out the shore.

Countdown to 5K

Week 8, Day 2. Another 2.75 miles. New route.

Time: 32:27

Feeling: Great! Today was the first that I thought I could actually keep running when we were done. I mean, confidently keep running without feeling like I was pushing myself too hard.

Days till 5K: 12

Training sessions left: 4

Feeling: Eek! I had a stress dream last night about the 5K. For some reason Phil wasn’t with me in the dream, and I’d been running, running, running and saw the first sign and it said .8 miles. I couldn’t believe that’s as far as I’d run. Then, I missed a turn on the route and had to go back to get back on track. That was pretty much it. We’ll see if the dreams get more interesting.

The body working together

Week 8, Day 1. I can count on one hand the number of training runs we have left before our 5K, and that astounds me. Today we ran 2.75 miles for the first time, and all that stands between us and a 5K is half a mile. Wow, again.

We clocked ourselves at about 33 minutes and 48 seconds, meaning we might make our goal of running the 5K in less than 40 minutes. Each outing seems to be an improvement over the last, which may be the most encouraging part of this whole program — progress.

Our legs were heavy today. Yesterday we visited the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island (I’m planning to post separately about that trip.), so we walked and walked and walked some more. Also, we caffeinated ourselves more than usual to make the 2 and a half hour trip home. We were tired, and I worried that today’s run would be a killer.

In some ways, yes. I’m realizing that my body goes into autopilot for the first mile. We seem able to knock that out pretty quickly. Today was no different. The second mile and beyond, I had to keep talking to my legs to make them run. I wanted to walk. So did Phil. His calf tightened up and we were pretty close to calling it after the second mile. I don’t know what mental tricks he has to pull to keep going, but I have to work through all we’ve accomplished. I have to concentrate on my legs. I have to remember that my lungs feel great, and I lost that 2 pounds this week that I’d gained over the last two weeks.

Thank God my body is not all legs or I wouldn’t still be on this running journey.

Thank God, as well, that the body of Christ is not made up of all one kind of people. We need each other to tell us to keep going when we want to quit. To take the journey with us. To give us the strength and stamina we need to complete the task ahead. And we need to stay connected to the head, that is, Christ, who speaks truth into our lives when we want to believe differently.

The whole body works together. Amen and amen.

Put down the ice cream and no one gets hurt

Week 7, Day 3. We are now just two weeks from the end of the Couch to 5K plan, a little more than two weeks from our 5K. Where has the time gone? And how is it possible that we’ve now run 2.5 miles three times in the last week and have lived to tell about it?

When we started this journey, I wasn’t sure where it would take us. I couldn’t envision being at this point, running more than 2 miles, being able to do it AND enjoying it. I couldn’t imagine it because the steps to get here have been many, gradual and at times, difficult. Running 2.5 miles still isn’t easy, but it’s not daunting like it used to be. Today we ran the same route as last Thursday, when we ran 2.25 miles. Today’s time: a shade over 31 minutes, down 2 minutes from last week’s run on this route. It was rainy and cold. I had a pain in my shin, I think from swimming with the kids yesterday, but it didn’t affect my running.

I’m noticing that I find a burst of energy when I can see the finish point. Sometimes I start the route slow so I know I’ll be able to finish strong and well.

Perhaps if I adopted the same attitude toward life’s trials, I would not find them as overwhelming either. Maybe I won’t be able to see the end, but if I could live with the attitude that an end is coming, that whatever it is I’m facing won’t go on forever, then maybe I could keep working hard to finish well.

I’ll weigh in again on Saturday, but I’m not expecting much improvement. It’s been an off week, emotionally and eating-wise. We’ve had two meals out already this week (parents in town … date night) and will have another tomorrow after seeing the Statue of Liberty, plus there’s a lot of chocolate in the house thanks to Halloween.

My husband is still rationing the ice cream, though. He scoops. I give him the, “Is that all?” look and he reminds me that our goals are more important than a dish of ice cream.

Sigh. He’s right. And I know it. Self-control is still a discipline I’m learning.

Going the extra mile

Week 7, Day 2. Another 2.5 miles today. Different route. No stroller (grandparents, yay!). An unbelieveable, for us, time. 27:38 — 6 minutes faster than our first 2.5 miles and nearly the same time as our first 2 miles. No wonder I thought I was dying. OK, so maybe it wasn’t that bad, but it certainly didn’t come easy. As I was running, I thought about Jesus’ words about going the extra mile. A friend told me the first mile is the hardest, and I find that true sometimes, but these last couple of runs, I’ve found the second mile more difficult. Like, after the first mile, I feel like I’ve already accomplished enough but, wait, I still have another mile to go. Maybe that’s why Jesus said if someone wants you to go one mile, go another mile after that. I fairly often take the easy way when it comes to helping people or serving, so these 2.5 mile runs are challenging me in other areas of life to keep going until the work is finished, not just until I feel like I’ve done enough or until I get tired. I had to talk my feet into continuing to run today. Sometimes I have to talk my soul into caring or my hands into helping.

In other news, we’re officially signed up for the Annual Give Thanks for Lebanon 5K on Nov. 20. Eek! They have our money. No turning back now.

On Thursday we return to the route we ran a week earlier for 2.25 miles, so we’ll see if the time is accurate. Even though it’s not really about the time, it’s fun to see progression.

It’s just a number, right?

Week 7, Day 1. 2.5 miles on the docket today, but it’s also Saturday, which means weigh-in day. I was extremely hopeful because my jeans were fitting well this week and someone asked me if I’d been losing weight. Until this week, my husband was seeing the benefits, but I wasn’t.

So, I excitedly hopped on the scale before our run this morning and saw … I’d gained half a pound? After gaining the past two weeks also? I was so depressed I didn’t even want to run.

What’s the point? I thought. I’m running three times a week and gaining weight, so why bother.

I evaluated my eating habits from the week and acknowledged that maybe I hadn’t done great this week, but certainly it couldn’t have been bad enough to counteract three days of running, could it?

My husband, in an effort to make me feel better, put himself on the scale only to discover he’d lost more weight. Thanks, honey. I feel loads better.

My mood didn’t improve when I couldn’t find my ear gear and dropped a stroller on my toe while looking for it.

As with most of our running days, though, it didn’t take long to get over it. Phil picked a new route today, and it took us across a one-lane bridge and past a wooded area near what looked like an old mill. It was lovely.

Early in the run, I felt like I was on autopilot. Between mile 1 and 2, I felt like I was dragging a little. Around the 2 mile mark, I picked up the pace, convincing my feet that yes, we were still running and walking was not an option.

With a few blocks to go, I had to take over pushing the stroller for Phil because his calf tightened up. We actually shared the burden for the last few blocks, and when we hit our stopping point, I was sure I was going to throw up. Nevermind that I didn’t have anything in my stomach.

We normally high-five after a run, but both of us were recovering, so we forgot. Our time today was just a shade over 33 minutes.

Years ago, I used to help my mom at the end of the Reagan 5K run. We’d snip electronic tags off people or take their numbers or something. I’d see people gasping for breath, puking and dripping with sweat, and I’d wonder, why in the world do they do it? Why put yourself through it?

I felt like those people a little today. I’m not sure I have the answers, but I know that the yucky feelings pass quickly and eventually I feel really good about what we’ve done.

Weight loss or no weight loss, maybe that’s where I need to focus. We’re still doing a good thing, even if the scale wants to tell me a different story.

In a fog

Week 6, Day 3. Yep, we’re approaching week 7. This morning we woke up to fog, so I donned the reflector belt while Phil decided the stroller’s reflectors would be enough for his safety. We didn’t meet much traffic so it wasn’t that big of a deal anyway.

The thing about fog is that you can’t see well where you’re going. We Google mapped a 2.2 mile route, so I had a picture in my head of how far we’d gone, but I had to jog by memory and faith along the way as I determined where we were at on the journey.

As we ran up the final hill, I knew that we had less than a mile to go, and I was encouraged; I can do this, I told myself. When Phil jogged in place so we could be side by side for the last three blocks, I found new energy. I could see the end, so I jogged all the faster.

And I thought about all the hard stuff of life. How sometimes it’s like being in a fog, and even if you know the way, you can’t always see exactly where you’re at. Sometimes I get tired of enduring the junk this world offers us, and I want to know that the end is near. That it’s almost over. Not in a fatalistic, I’m sick of this kind of way, but in a relief sort of way. Like saying, Finally. I don’t have to struggle anymore.

I know the Bible offers us hope an end will come, even if it comes through our deaths. I just have to keep reminding myself that this won’t go on forever and every step is progress.

So, as far as running goes, good-bye 2.2 mile run. Hello, 2.5 mile run for the next three training days. Oh yeah, and we ran today’s route in 29 minutes, about 90 seconds longer than our 2 mile run a week ago.

Progress! It’s all about gaining ground.

It’s the end of the walk as we know it

Week 6, Day 2. And if I was going to continue stealing lyrics from R.E.M., I’d say, “And I feel fine.” Today was our official last day of training that includes any walking. We ran 2 10-minute stretches today and walked for 3 minutes in between.

I’m not sure if I feel “fine” about this or not. But we’ve already passed the mental hurdle of running 2 miles without walking, so I know my body can physically do it. Now, it’s just putting my feet one in front of the other and doing it for increasingly longer stretches. Next up is a 2 and 1/4 mile run.

What I really need to remember is that 6 weeks ago, the idea that I’d even be running for 5 or 10 minutes at a time without wheezing, puking or passing out was improbable to me. We’ve come a long way, baby.

I might have a drinking problem

Week 6, Day 1. Brrrr. That’s how we started the morning. Barely 40 degrees. Wearing pants and headgear. The kids have the best spot on days like this. They stay toasty warm under a blanket in the jogging stroller. Gloves are the next must-have for my running gear. Cold fingers = not fun.

Today’s training included some walking again. 5 minutes of running, 3 minutes of walking; 8 minutes of running, 3 minutes of walking; 5 minutes of running. I felt extra confident when we started. Since we had “conquered” the 2-miles, no walking a few days ago, I was sure today’s plan would be a breeze. Ha. The last 5 minutes nearly did me in. I have no explanation. We have only one more day that includes any amount of walking; after that, we’re all running, all the time. Exciting. Scary. Challenging.

I haven’t lost any weight the last two weeks. I gained a pound a week ago and stayed the same this week. I’m kind of disappointed. But I think it’s my fault. See,  I have a drinking problem. Actually, it’s an eating problem. We usually run in the morning, and since the first day, I haven’t eaten any breakfast before we run because I don’t want to throw up. So, when the run is over, I’m starving. A friend warned me about this: runners who actually gain weight from eating too much even though they’re burning calories by running. Typically, I eat a bagel with peanut butter. Maybe not the best post-run choice? Sometimes followed up by a banana or orange or some yogurt.

I’m not sure breakfast is really the problem, though. I’m a bit of a snack-a-holic. Especially if I’m tired (which is a lot lately) or bored (only occasionally). There’s also the monthly hormone-induced chocolate attack. Basically, I lack self-control when it comes to eating. Phil says I need to drink more when I feel like I’m starving. Our post-run drinks include one of these lovely Powerade Zero beverages and water, water and more water.

Any thoughts? What is good post-run food? And do you have any tips for curbing the snackies?

I’m grateful for the exercise we’re getting and I know that even if I don’t lose a bunch of weight, my body is getting healthier in other ways. But I’m pretty sure I should be losing weight as part of this plan, too.