Our Valentines Day in Pictures

Yesterday, my husband surprised me via email and told me that he was planning to take off on Valentines Day and our itinerary would be as follows: Drop off the kiddos at preschool, go for a run, brunch at Tupalo Honey, shopping at Lululemon, pick up the kids, go for a hike, have a picnic at the Biltmore, put the kids to bed and kick back with champagne and netflix.

                  

How sweet is that? Can you believe that this is our 12th Valentines together and he is still so into it? I am a lucky lady. And the day pretty much went just like that.

We had a quick 6 mile run and then a super yummy breakfast at Tupalo with our sweet girl.

After that we headed to Lululemon and I had a pretty woman moment and tried on everything in the store.

I finally decided on a neon green run swiftly tank for my Saint Patty's Day marathon and a hot pink pace setter skirt. It made every mile run, every morning I gave up sleeping in and every bit of frostbite I endured

all worth it. An outfit shouldn't give you power, but this one does.

 After we picked up the kids we drove over to the Biltmore and went on a hike. Just before the sun went down we feasted on Subway

 played in the water

 and did yoga on the mountaintop.

 As I am typing all of this out Jaime is upstairs bathing all three kids and getting them ready for bed. Did I mention that he's awesome? Happy Love Day y'all!

Xo

Keeping the Faith

This past November the Conley Family started going to church. And not just on Christmas and Easter, but other Sundays too. We have been church shopping for some time and have yet to find a place where we belong. We are an interesting bunch, a whole lotta hippy mixed in with a little bit of tradition. What I mean is that I don't fit inside the doors of any place that is going to use the Bible or God to be mean or discriminatory. Also, I respect that there are about 1.5 billion Muslims in the world, 14 million Jews (including Jesus, right?) and a whole bunch of other religions ranging from Buddhism to Hinduism to Tom Cruise. Christianity only makes up about 30%  percent of the worlds beliefs. You see, I graduated from UNCA and in order to receive that Liberal Arts stamp on my diploma (made out of patchouli) they simply insist that there is a big world out there and that you better respect it. Over the course of about 6 humanities classes, I think I became all of these religions at least once. I also became a Unitarian and got a candle and everything.

Fast forward 6 years and three beautiful little children. I still love everybody (with a couple exceptions) and I still think other religions are super cool and interesting BUT I kind of want to go into a real church, dress up and experience tradition. I can't handle the hula hooping or incense or being barefoot. If I wanted to do that, I'd just stay home. So, where can I find the hippy spirit in a church that looks like the Vatican and is filled with really smart people who speak Hebrew and know their shit? Believe it or not folks, after almost 9 years of searching, I think I found it. Actually, I don't know if anyone speaks Hebrew yet but they certainly don't speak cowboy and there isn't a rock and roll band screaming at me, so that's a start.  

We started Trinity Episcopal the first week of November and were blown away. The kids fit right in and seemed to really enjoy Sunday school and children's church. Yes, children's church! They have their own little chapel with tiny chairs. It is SO cute. And Jaime and I get to sit uninterrupted for an hour. It is divine. So after a of couple weeks we started a class and after its completion we can officially get confirmed Episcopalian. We are 5 weeks into the class and I think I'm learning a lot. It can be difficult at times because I know way less than everyone else and feel like I need him to back up a bit. I guess at UNCA they forgot to teach us anything useful. But I know this: Women are bishops, there are 3 gay people in my class and they have a parents drinking club. All big, big bonuses in my book. And the Rector who goes by Father Scott is married and has two kids so he is relateable and not scary. Last week in class someone made a joke that Episcopalians will believe just about anything and Father Scott was quick to say that isn't true. They have very strong beliefs all outlined in the Book of Common Prayer and if you ever have a question about what the church believes you can find an answer there. They just have more tolerance than other religions. I really like that. Who are we to judge? I'm such a mess that I have already cheated on what I gave up for lent and it's Ash Wednesday.

What I believe is this; If there is a heaven, I want to go there. It is better to believe in something than nothing. Even if you take organized religion completely out of the equation, being a decent human being can never be wrong. Something much larger than biology created Josiah, Oliver and Corinne. I want to be better. I need help. I need to be able pray and thank someone for all that I have. Being grateful is important. Giving up and letting go of control is also important. Giving yourself an opportunity and the time to develop a relationship with God is nessacery. We are not promised tomorrow, be thankful for each breath and every moment. Even the bad ones... they are significant and it'll all make sense someday. I think.


  

Training: The Opposite of Hoping

This Saturday I ran further than I ever have. Possibly further than anyone ever has. Ok, so that isn't true...but it totally felt like it. 21 miles of oh my gosh ouch.

The past few months I have been feeling a little bit like JayZ. I run this town. Seriously, all over this town. North Asheville, Woodfin, River Arts, West Asheville, East Asheville, Bent Creek, the Mountains to the Sea Trail, Downtown, Biltmore, the Parkway...What am I forgetting? It is a challenge to map out such lengthy runs in a city the size of Asheville and still keep it fresh. Saturday I was only trying to keep it real and go some place new. And by some place new, I really mean to outer space. To infinity and beyond y'all.  The route had us starting at Fudruckers, continuing up through the rose garden to Patton Mountain, all the way up to Town Mountain, north on Town Mountain to Craven Gap and the Blue Ridge Parkway, north on the parkway to Ox Creek, then over to Elk Mountain Scenic Hwy for a quick descent back to Beaverdamn and finally over to Kimberly and ultimately back to Fudruckers 21 miles later. I am having post traumatic stress just typing all that out. By completing this slow (real slow) form of human torture my ultimate goal is to cross over the finish line at Wrightsville Beach and yell out, "What? That's all you got?" We climbed 1600 feet over the course of 13 miles. The Empire State building is 1,400 feet. Think about THAT for a second. 

Everyone who knows me will tell you that aside from having a running problem, I'm not exactly the healthiest person on the planet. In fact, it is possible that I run as much as I do so that I can eat Papa's and Beer three times a week and drink a bottle of champagne every Tuesday while watching The Bachelor. I hear about athletes who fuel up with all sorts of nuts and seeds and leafy greens. Hey, I like salad! I always get a salad first at the Asheville Pizza buffet. Always. And I just bought a pair of size 4 pants, so obviously dieting is all just a scam to keep farmers and their silly vegetables in business. But anyway, I am sort of at a loss as to how to prepare for the these long runs. Exspecially since they are on Saturday mornings and Fridays are supposed to be fun time. So Friday night in typical fashion, I had a steak burrito and rice (carbo loading) from Papas and Beer. Then Saturday morning I got up and drank 2 cups of coffee and ate a bite of a banana (super important runner food) and gave the rest to Jaime. "If I eat the rest of that I will puke," I told him. "Don't puke" he says. And I was off. 

Opening the front door I was greeted by a blast to the face. No really, look what the car said:   

18 degrees. 18! That is less degrees than miles I was about to run. First, I had to drive up to Craven Gap and drop off a water bottle because water bottle belts look stupid and I'm not going to wear one. It took me 30 minutes to get there.  The road was frozen and dangerous. And we were going to run all the way up there and then keep going for 11 more miles. I met Paige, Jenny and Bill at Fudruckers and Bill snapped this before photo of the ladies.  Look at how happy we are.



The first part of the run always go by quickly as we catch up from the previous week. Stories of kindergarten tours, plantar fasciitis and shoe inserts, crazy text messages, etc... filled the first 5 miles and suddenly we were on top of Patton mountain. Bill wished us luck and went on his way because he is smart and wanted to go home and go to a movie. We went left, he went right and up, up, up we went for 9 more miles. I think I must have been suffering from some form of hypothermic hysteria as I chatted with Jenny about beautiful mountains and hills and how I was kinda bummed my marathon was so flat. I snapped photos and was all like, "Its SO pretty!" It was really pretty. Check it out.  

I was kinda confused about when exactly we were going to go downhill. Elk Mountain was for some reason going up and not down. Why wasn't it going down? Well, I guess to go down one side of the mountain you must run all the way up the other. I didn't know that when I mapped it out. I just thought Elk Mountain  then boom Beaverdamn. But we started on an Elk Mountain that was practically in Weaverville. I know, so weird.

Finally, Jenny who had biked this route in the past told me we were at the tippty top and I demanded to have my picture taken by this cool rock.



We had just run a half marathon up a mountain. Where were the medals, beer and donuts? Paige was crying and Jenny had a bleeding blister. I was trying to be cheerful and was like, "Look, I can see your house Paige!! We are almost back!" I had no idea how far we still had to go. As we set off down the mountain all of my badassness disappeared. I felt every muscle in body. I hurt so bad. Wasn't the downhill supposed to be the easy part? Just get off this road and get on Kimberly and you'll be ok. I repeated that in my head for five miles. Five miles... all downhill and every step felt like the end of my running career. When I finally turned onto Kimberly and was welcomed by Josiah and Oliver's preschool, I saw the hill. One that on any normal day and compared to what we had just run would look like a mole hill. But after almost 19 miles I felt my first wave of tears. Oh God, what was I doing? Crying? What? Then I did something even crazier. I leaned over and did the downdog in the graveyard at Asbury. Which was completely appropriate, because I was dying. Then I fell down. I was so cold. The thought of this got my heart racing, was I freezing to death in a graveyard? Was I already dead? My skin was so cold and clammy. My phone was completely out of battery (since I had been running for infinite hours) or I would have called Jaime to pick me up right then and there. Paige and Jenny were gone. I was all alone... laying in a graveyard. 

Somehow I got up. Not through any inspirational story like I thought of a man with one leg crossing the finish line or all the starving people in the world. Simply because my car was at Fudruckers and I had no phone and I needed to go home. I said so many bad words on Kimberly. At one point I yelled out, "My knee, my f**king knee!" and a lady walking her dog glanced my way and kept going. Seriously? You don't wanna help me out? You don't care about my F-ing knee? Really?  

    That final 2 miles I ran for 30 seconds walked for a minute. Ran 30 seconds walked for a minute. And finally, I smelled cheeseburgers. Fudruckers. Oh thank you Jesus.

Paige and Jenny were sitting in the grass at Fudruckers and discussing how stupid that was. 21 miles. Wow.

I drove home and as soon as I got out of the car, started crying (again). Jaime helped me in the door and said you only have to walk like 50 more feet. You can do it. "I hate running. I'm not doing a marathon, I almost died, I'm so cold, please help me." Yep, those were all phrases out of my mouth on the way down to the bathtub. He was a good sport and only smiled without actually laughing. 

So, here I am. 5 weeks away from 26.2 and still alive. I have one more 20 mile run and then a three week taper of 15, 13 and 10 before the big day. I really hope that I'm ready because I want to do well enough that I never, ever have to do another one. And that's for real.