A Great Cry

Sometimes I cry.  For me, tears are part release and part self-expression.  I do a lot of "Oh, that's sooooo sad" crying (what with the jets continually crashing and children continuously starving), and I also have spells of "Oh, that's soooo great" tears streaming down my face.  Which is why I just didn't sign up to run the Buffalo Marathon.  While I watched the promotional video on the marathon's website, sitting in my healthy, well-trained body, my mind confident from the successful 20-mile run I had yesterday, my heart began overflowing with emotion:  Love for my city, appreciation for being a runner, and a wealth of gratitude that came pouring out of my eyes and dripping onto my keyboard.  How incredibly lucky am I to live in a beautiful city filled with a familyhood of runners, and I get to run 26.2 miles through it, with them - shit, more tears.  If you're not a runner, check out the video and allow yourself to be inspired; if you do run, I dare you NOT to sign up for some part of marathon weekend's events.
I am ending this post abruptly so that I can sign myself up for real.

My Marathon

I am wife.
I am mommy.
I am marathon training.
I am selfish.
I am strong.
I am weak.
I am proud.
I am humble.
I am high.
I am low.

I am on a roller coaster, emotions magnified by miles. I give to myself on the road. I give hope and strength and endorphins and a muffin when I'm finished.
But I still need to take, to receive from others.  I need life to allow me to rest, to sit by myself, to snack when I need to snack.  I need a couple of quiet minutes to take a shit.  I need to feel supported.

And so, I

Cultivate patience
Radiate forgiveness
Cook for my family
Read to my children
Fix the throw pillows
Clean the toilet
Get up at 4:30 am, run, and do it all again.

I can only receive what I can give.  I only take what I release, only grow what I sow.

What is your marathon?