Running running and running

I love running.
I was so happy to be back running on a trail at Rockin' K.
It was a joy and honor to help Ben with Free State and see and hear the appreciation of the runners and their families.
I'm really excited about the trail building we're doing at Wyco, and the mojo Ben has created by teaming up with the Earth Riders. (great vision).
I am so thankful for the true friendships I've encountered in life.
I am grateful the future is looking very, very bright and full of love, running and prosperity.
I have a new job, where I can run everyday and help people explore their running and live better quality lives.

So many of my prayers have been answered. It feels good to be blessed.
Muddy Hugs,
Sophia

rockin original

I can't believe how far behind I am on my blog. Somehow, I've been more busy as an unemployed member of society. I've found myself on numerous committees, quite a few short lists to help out friends, and very happily on many "A" lists of friends new and old.

Pretty proud to be on Julie Toft and Debbie Webster's "A" list. Julie was signed up for Rockin' K, but got stuck on an out of town, airport terminal, crap infested work assignment the weekend of the race. She offered me up her cowtag ( I love that this race gives us cowtags to traipse through the literal, cowpaths!) for what it cost to switch ($45). Saweeet!!! Did I mention I'm unemployed?!! Then she didn't even let me pay her that. Mud U, Julie.

Wait... backtrack.

"Hey Sophia, it's Debbie.. see if Ben will lend you to me over the weekend for Rockin' K."

"Yikes. We have all this Brew to Brew stuff to do. " (blog on that to follow--yeah I am REALLY behind) I hated to have him suffer alone with the paved race packet pick-up. Not Ben's favorite. Still, I know how important Brew to Brew is. A fundraiser for Cystic Fibrosis (horrid disease) but also one of the Kansas City Track Club's most important events. The group and Lou Joline believed in Ben's vision creating the Trail Nerds. They have been great and supportive team members for our group. I didn't want to let them down.

"Tell Ben I'll work all day Sunday at the aid station at Brew to Brew, if he lets you go."

It was an easy sell.

Oh my dear Ben. I love you. love you , love you so much for never resenting me when I get to go run with our friends on beautiful trails. Even when you have to be responsible and take care of the hand (KCTC) that feeds us. Oh I was excited... so excited!

I hadn't raced since November 27th.

"Sophia, where have you been? Why aren't you racing?" An email from Rick Mayo in February. I seriously ran into him before this race.

" Hey I'm back, I'm back!!" His beautiful wife Kristi was there with their equally beautiful daughter. Great to see them...... hmmm.. where were the other boys from Kearny? (find out more here at Gabe's Blog)

Wait... backtrack.

Carpool/Nerd-Mud Babe motorcade to the race.

Everyday's party in Sophie's World.

I met up with Debbie, we loaded up the truck with muddy shoes, snacks etc? Actually an impressive stash for a weekender. Two doesn't constitute much of a carpool. Read on.

I had 6 nerds to coordinate. Two cars right? Ended up with three. Two people per car right? Nope. 4 in one car and one each in two others. Jim wanted to multi-task and work on the way (admirable actually) and Greg had a different "bailout after the race schedule," since he was doing 50 miles.

On the way out we lent Shane Jones to Greg for company, and in retrospect should have put James T. in with Jim since he spent the majority of the trip glued to his cell phone. Meanwhile, Debbie and I did our best to distract James by rockin' out to her latests favorite country song. We'd made a quick stop at Target in Lawrence to grab James and Shane. I got a battery put in one of Ben's old watches. And got teased by Shane for my super cool Timex. Shuddup Shane (tease back) it only cost $10. Did I mention I'm unemployed?!!

So the motorcade looked like this:

In Car 1: Jim Megerson and phone

In Car 2: Debbie, me, James, phone and country tunes

In Car 3: Shane and Greg having a bro-mance

Meatballs, meatballs, meatballs!

The pre-race dinner and meeting Stacy Sheridan was awesome! I'm not sure God could put more positive energy in one woman. Muddy hug! Oh I love that lady.

A fun positive to being so RIDICULOUSLY far behind on my blog is perspective. Here's one. Take a look at Laurie Euler's plate of meatballs. Paired with her race report peppered with self deprecating humor that she couldn't poo. That's a lot of blockage. Her dear boyfriend Nick (the garbage disposal--eats like Michael Phelps) had stopped in and partook at our firm invitation of our breakfast spread. Watermelon, displayed in the ice container (presentation is so important) and peanut butter bagels.

"Hey does Laurie want anything?"

"Not a fan of mornings."

She was already in the Nick's car. Next time take us up on the peanut butter Laurie! It works wonders. No promises... but maybe it would help with the Poo!

Shane and James pop into our room, on time-- thanks guys. We start shoving food in their faces. Coffee coffee! I'd hopped across the street and gotten some marginal brown brew from the convenience store.

"I'm not too good in the morning." Shane.

boom chicka boom chicka la la twang.

"I love this song! This is my favorite song right now!"CMT was on the television. Yup, while other runners were catching up on the latest weather forecast for the day, Debbie and I were tuned into the Country Music Channel. "I will run to you-oo -oo. I will run to you."We sang and danced in unison.

"Sorry, I don't think it's that great a song."

Shuddup Shane. (teasing)

On the way to the race we discussed our post race strategy.

"Shane why don't you run with my key fob since you'll finish WAY ahead of all of us."

We all concurred this was the best plan.

boom chicka boom chicka la la twaaaang.

"What? wait? not this song again?"

I turned around to Shane.

"We bought the CD at Target so we can hear it whenever we want. C'mon it says "run" in the chorus!"

"ugh."

Even James seemed a little irritated.

"I will run to you!" We sang at the top of our lungs.Played it twice.

Radio after that. Hard dude rock. This time everyone was singing.

THE RACE:

Fear. For this race, I knew I had to follow all the rules. Respect the distance, respect your body, listen to the signs. I can't even say I was on the Megerson constant taper. (25-30 miles per week max, year round). I was quite simply out of shape. January and February had been total running busts. I hadn't raced since November. Would my body remember what to do?

"Ben, what should I expect for a time on this one? I am so undertrained."

5:30 to 6:30. Ben knew the course and has run it in several different fitness levels. I looked down at my "new," watch and wondered what it would read at the end of the race.

Anxiety. I shared it with Debbie.

"I can't make any mistakes. I am going to have to be militant about salt, food, water, wardrobe.. everything." I packed a drop bag for the first time ever. Mostly I wanted a labelled place to leave my Mizuno stretch crew in the middle of the race so I could start out warm and comfy at the beginning. I threw in my inhaler. (Performance enhancing drugs according to Mr. Megerson!)

"We are making a mistake right now."

Debbie and I were chatting away like school girls on a slumber party. But somehow it worked out. We were relaxed and at least slept well for the few hours we got.

Before the race, Stacy Sheridan came a lookin for me.

"Sophia..Sophia there you are!" great big hug. "ooops I forgot I had to sign in. I'm here."

Then I was running. Running in the breathtaking splendor of Kanopolis State park. I felt free at last. I came up upon Coleen and Deb Johnson after taking a break to water a bush. Btw, an interesting experience with 40 mph winds and little to block it.

I chimed in a hello and tried to make conversation, but there was also very little to block the angry hostility and seething silence of Coleen. I can't tell you how many tears I've shed for the loss of this friendship. It was a friendship based on discovery of ultra running, laughter, watermelon and oranges. I loved having her as a friend. I miss her. In the past few months, sometimes we'd end up on the same group run and chat and chat. Tap dancing over the rocks and the taboo subject. Not anymore. Hardly a hello. Glares. Daggers. Hurtful taunting. Accusations. Gossip. Denial. It is truly painful.

The tears would fill a small tub if they ever made it there. Instead their salty stream burns and stings the wounds, many of which are 9 months deep. I hate to even have this passive mention here, but each time I think we could be approaching repair, something happens. The knife turns, the wound is exposed, the tears sink deep within.

On this day, the salt is from sweat, not tears. Instead of crying, I will run. And if I'm to run in silence, I'd prefer it be pure. I charge ahead and run alone.

13.1 Coke, Mountain Dew. Ah, blessed aid station. Oranges. Shane???

"Shane what are you doing here."

"Look at that? I feel like quitting."

I'd caught up with Shane who was grumpy because Kyle and Tony were 5 and a half brutal miles ahead of him.

"c'mon run with me!"

I was so excited. Seeing Shane truly energized me, because it meant I was running pretty well. I should have grabbed the key though. I actually finished a few minutes ahead of him.

This is where the race got interesting. Serious climbs. Ran into Willie from Great Plains Running. Muddy hug. Trotted along. Took pictures. Made a little video interview with Willie. Got back to the aid station. Dropped of the shirt. Took my performance enhancing drugs, and carried on.

pa-thunk--- pa-thunk. Yup. That's the sound your running makes when you're being blown sideways. A first. And with a step up because of the deeply rutted horse trail. But it didn't bother me. Many have described the wind at soul sucking. Instead it was like Narnia, with Aslan breathing trail running life back into this emotionaly weary Mud Babe.

I took it all in. Deeply. Honestly. Forever. I was back in my beautiful world. Completely.

Around 21 I caught up with a fellow named John from Minnesota. We couldn't talk much because the wind was so loud. I didn't get a chance to talk to him after either so I want to thank him here. I was tired of running alone. Thanks for waiting for me at the top of a hill at mile 22. I was ready just to drop back. It was nice to know someone wanted to run with me. Even just for a few miles.

Finish line: 5:31. More hugs from Stacy Sheridan who I promise a mud tattoo at Free State.

Shane finished.

Coleen, Debbie and Deb J. finished.

I had watermelon left over from breakfast. Maybe, just maybe Coleen would like some? Nope. I try to walk up to the group and offer. But get the side of the head. Laughter to all the other women and exclusion. Female bullying.

It's ok. While it's more fun to share delicious watermelon with a friend, it still tastes good running alone.

Muddy Hugs,

Sophia

Personal Day!

I was dragging. It was as if no amount of sleep could ever be enough. Monday two weeks ago, it was a slow start to my day. Very slow. I had an appointment at noon in Topeka, and I just couldn't seem to get going.

Then the phone rang.
"Sophia, I'm on my way over to Nieman."
My friend Cindy. Ben calls her "Strap-on Cindy." She's beautiful, energetic, and somewhat confused. Today she was overwhelmed as well.
"Cindy, I'm already late, I'm on my way out the door."
"Sophia, please just go in to the office and get my records. Scott (the apartment manager) hates me. I'm trying to prove residency for Missouri plates."
Cindy used to live at Nieman, and left on bad terms because her dog Tucker, peed all over the carpet. After a quick heart to heart about accountability, she admitted the dog had in fact made quite the stinky mess, and that they did have a right to be upset. I really like our apartment management, so that was important. She apologized, when she got there to Dayna. Scott wasn't working.

Unfortunately, the records were no where.
"I have had two meltdowns today."
Cindy pulled out 4 pages of instructions from different courthouses, she'd had to visit to get the proper documentation for the plates. A four course meal if you will?
"Hey do they require a rectal exam, too?"
Cindy didn't think it was funny.
"That would probably feel better, and less time consuming. Seriously Sophia, I've taken a personal day because this is impossible." And here comes meltdown number three. I went to college with a friend who used to say "sometimes tears are your only defense." The release didn't seem to be making Cindy feel better.
"I'm just going to call KCPL."
"You can get it online," Dayna, the property manager offers a voice of reason.
I cancel my appointment in Topeka.

I want to emphasize again how tough Cindy is on a regular basis. She tears around all day like a white tornado with relentless energy. She volunteers. She helps her sisters who both have kids. She's watched Puccini, a lot. Today it was clear she needed an emotional boost from me. Borrowed energy. Kind of funny, considering my near narcoleptic state, but I rallied.

"Cindy, let's just go over to the apartment and use my computer."
Over at the apartment, her phone rings.
"Oh my gosh, it's KCPL.. they are CALLING ME."
She gets the necessary info and has it faxed to the Nieman office. Again, it was important she mended that creaky bridge.
"I want a beer! " Cindy's been over before and knows there are 3 beers on tap. She just loves Ben and his homebrew.
"There's some in the regular fridge, Cindy, but we drank the rest. There are two in secondary in the spare room." (yeah so much for office space, we have a nano-brewery in our spare room. Smells better than company, and makes a lot less noise.)
"where's Ben? The hottest man alive. A good match for you, Sophia."
"In Texas, he'll carbonate the Brown when he gets back. Go grab a bottle of Single Wide."
She settled in with some hummous and sirachi instead, while I did an errrand. After all it was a personal day.
"Will you go with me downtown to finish this? I'll take you to lunch and for beers."
I agreed to the errands and food.
"I promised Debbie I'd run Kill Creek later, so I can't drink."
We went to the post office and mailed Trail Nerd T-shirts.
We went to Pet Smart for food and to get our pups nails trimmed.
But things were not running smoothly there. Worried that leaving the dogs there could mean death or permanent maiming, we nixed that, and got them to the dog park later.

My phone rang.
"Sophia, it's Debbie. Do you want to run Rockin K on Saturday? It's full but Julie dropped and you can have her spot."
Rockin K is a very difficult marathon. I am grossly undertrained. I don't hesitate.
"Hell yes! It's our marathon annifuckinversary!!!"
About a year ago, we bonded running Boston together.
"Cindy, I'm not running tonight."
"PERSONAL DAY!" in unison. We high five, and crank up the tunes.
We went to Mc Coys and met up with Keith the brewer. His wife just had a little girl, Josie, and at 4 weeks premie (although a healthy 5 pounds 9 oz.) and was still in the hospital.
I chatted on the phone with one of Cindy's friends. The young lady said she was "dating," Cindy. I played it cool.
We sampled 6 of Keith's beers (mmm I love the IPA), 2 mixed drinks and nachos.
The dogs hung out in the car.
Dog park.
Our next culinary/lubricating stop, Japan. Sushi with Cindy's "boyfriend." They held hands, and exchanged an awkward hug.
Plaza next. We met up with some of her other friends. We chatted outside on the patio. The weather was perfect for our personal day.
We were hungry again.
Baby burger. I wanted baby burgers.
"I'm sorry miss, we don't have them."
"Well could you cut my burger in triangles? It's so much more cheerful."
It arrived in triangles. Presentation is so important!
We hit I-Hop on the way home. Extra bacon for the dogs. They were still in the car!

Cindy has been a real rock of support for me, in a way I very much needed over the past 9 months. In August, I wrote a blog called "Shattered," about my crushed and scattered heart. She picked up the fun piece and took care of it. Today, I got it back, and I paid her back in spades. It was Funday Monday. Yeah, so much for crappy Mondays.

Debbie's been holding a couple pieces, too. Hope being the biggie. Determination, not bad either. Remember her call? She wanted a friend for a tough marathon. Good time to pay her back. (Race report to follow.)

I don't have children, my brother lives in New York, and my parents don't visit too much. So my friends are my family.

Like Cindy, I had to take a personal day last October. I had gotten a hostile, hateful facebook message. I went home and my phone started ringing. My friends were reaching out, because they'd heard I was having "mascara issues," at work. S.O.S. "Save Our Sophia."

However, I made one call to my friend and former photographer, Colton. We have a special connection, not just because of work, but because we both worked in State College, Pa. We have a lot of friends in common. I'm the only person he trusts with his beloved dog, Montana. At this point, for me, he was the only person who could give the emotional support I needed. He was there for me and understood.

Back to the present... well sort of. Two weeks ago Ben and I were brewing his Uber Saison. It's always a jolly experience. I cooked brats in beer (So delicious) and some of our friends came over.

The phone rang. Colton. Hmmm.. he works on Saturday.
"Hey Colton are you off? Come over, Ben's brewing!"
"Um, Sophia I'm in the hospital."
My heart stopped. Colton has an extremely rare form of hemophilia. Only 300 in the world and most are in India.
"Do you need blood?"
Ok. A little dramatic, he was in the hospital, but on a serious note, I was ready, if that's what he needed.
"No, but I have to be here for at least 2 days. Could you take care of Montana?"
I went to the hospital, got the key and brought the dog back to our apartment.
I've watched her a lot, but it was clear she knew something was wrong this time. She sat by the door a lot.
The phone rang the next night.
"Oh Sophia, it's Danielle, you have no idea what I went through to get your number."
Colton's girlfriend explained his phone had died in the hospital (don't tell hippa) and that she'd had to scour his old bill to find my number. I've had 5 numbers this year, and she had an old one.
"Can you pick me up at the airport? This is just so hard. We don't have any family in Kansas."
"Yes you do Danielle. I'm your family. Don't ever hesitate to call."

Paybacks.

Cindy.
Debbie.
Colton.
Danielle.

Paybacks, oh yes, paybacks are Heaven.

Muddy Hugs,
Sophia

Thank you, my dear freind..

I was sitting in the therapists office one day, broken down and crying. Tettering.
"I've lost my best buddy. She'll never come back."
"Is she your best buddy, Sophia?"
I was so distraught, I couldn't think strait. My wise and calm therapist, Frank was, as always, pointing out the obvious.
The next time I came in, I had a different take on things.
"She isn't my best friend. And I'm ok with the ones I have, who have stood by me as best they can on a really wild ride."
In the end, one has pounded me with love, often tough love. Given profound advice. Built up my dreams, and never stopped believing in fairies and fairy tale endings. For a spell, she took a break, but never stopped praying. During that break she took care of her own fairy tale, so it would have a nice ending.
Debbie Webster, I love you so much. You were chiselled in an incredibly awkward position, and stood firm. On the love plane. On the loyalty plane. On the honesty plane. Others were supportive of me, but they weren't in the thick of it, the way you were.
On this emotional, endurance race you have been my mobile aid station. In fact, you're the one who made me sign up. Sign up for love. Sign up for living life. And when you thought maybe I was getting more of a beating than I could take, you still let me stay in. Even though it caused you pain.
Then there came a point in February. I said I couldn't go on anymore. You jumped in with both feet. It was art imitating life. I think about how you took care of me when I ran Fee State last year. No matter what I needed, you were there. Strong, relentless, unconditional. I think about how when Coleen's energy drink wasn't there for her at Rocky, you ran back and dug it out of the shelter and caught up to her, so she would have what she needed on her first 100 miler. You know how to take care of people.
I don't care if you're not a writer. I don't care if you don't have fancy college degrees or a fancy house on Ward Parkway. You have made more good of your life experiences than anyone I know. I have a very simple look these days at religion. I stick with God is Love. And you've got more love in your heart than most who devote their lives to God. Thanks for being in my life in my inner circle. Thanks for stumbling along with me. Thanks for reaching out to me when you fall, and picking me up when I did. Thanks for loving the people I love, even when you didn't understand what was going on. Thanks for getting back in. Thanks for giving me sanctuary at your house. Most of all... thanks the other day for telling me you need me as a friend. It is an honor.

making of a mudbabe

THE MAKING OF A MUD BABE

"when are you going to run with the nerds again?"

It was an email from "Bad Ben," who runs the KC Trail Nerds .
What? Run on trails again? He obviously didn’t remember our last conversation where I told him I’d broken down crying, lost on the Wyco trail during the Alternate Chili run-- I eventually jumped back on the pavement. At best it was 6 miles on the trail. Sobbing, weeping, cursing Mizuno Kelley for making me get up early for this torture.
After the run, I plopped down by Ben with my bowl of Chili.
"i think trails are cool--At heart, I feel like a trail runner, but I just don’t run them well-- I keep hoping I’ll get better, but this was terrible. I can’t get a rhythm."

"maybe trails just aren’t for you." Mizuno Kelley. "it’s ok."

I went for a second bowl of chili and added extra cheese.

When the invitation to run came again I chose the most convenient trail for me-- without even looking at the schedule, secretly hoping it would conflict with something else.

"Saturday at Clinton lake." I wrote. I’d never even been on a picnic there.

Turns out they were doing weekly runs there to prepare for Free State. I’m stuck.

I had several conversations with my co-anchor about this pending run. (watch me on my podcast here : http://www.ktka.com/news/2008/mar/03/49_news_now_afternoon_update_news_and_weather/)
"Ugh- I can’t believe I agreed to this- I’m not as fast as these dudes on pavement and I’m even worse on the trails. The only reason I can think that they invited me, was because they’re hurting for material to talk about on a long ass run." So I started studying up on interesting news stories, hoping I could keep up. Although I was "training" for Boston, I was barely getting in 25 miles a week, and my longest run was the Topeka to Auburn half a month prior. If I was going to get the long runs in, I needed to overcome my problem with trails. Still, I went into the first group run, in real fear of being left in the dust and lost in the woods.

3 runs, 2 pairs of muddy shoes and about 50 trail miles later, I’m hooked.

Right now I’m what’s called the binge trail runner. Doing the long weekend runs on the trails, I am prone to embarrassing myself in restaurants. Nothing like frozen mud melting off your shoes in the middle of an omelette and 5 cups of coffee. Kind of resembles what my dog Puccini leaves after getting too many snacks for Thanksgiving. Oh well...

So what’s the hook? The people or the path? Both.
Trail runners are nicer... Seriously-- I think it has something to do with needing to be self sufficient, but never having everything you need (whether emotionally or physically) No matter how well you prepare-- you may need a gu, or a baby wipe, camera (for that unexpected moment when you run into another pack of runners) extra water, a hand or just an encouraging word. Your fellow trail nerds will always be there to lend it. On pavement, there’s a never ending supply of non-runners and convenience stores for help and I think it makes those runners a little more introverted. Just a theory-- open to other interpretations.

So far I find you learn something about yourself, something about running, and with this group, some great one liners to get you through the week. Conversations that can go like this.

Sophia: "my text messaging predictive text doesn’t seem to like certain words . I’m tired of trying to fix it-- so my friends just accept that ducking means something other than what we’re doing right now to get under this tree."
Ben:" I’m convinced the moral majority controls cell phones."

There are others--but we’ll leave them on the trail. Smile. Colleen-- you are hilarious, and you know I never forget anything.

As for the running... It’s getting better-- I’m jumping over roots and slopping through the mud. Still have fear of water and needed a hand over some that troubled me. When I’m hard core-- I’ll just splash through-- but so far, still binging. And the running is getting faster-- what needs work however is the walking. When the group starts walking up hills or though the serious slop-- I become like a satellite planet struggling to stay in orbit. So during miles 14-16, I got some pointers on walking (once I ran and caught up). Turnover, turnover, turnover. Balance, flex hips and keep it moving, seriously think about pushing off with the toes. Walk on a treadmill at a 15 grade. Good advice. I’ll take it. Unlike pavement, being able to walk well and fast on the trails is crucial. Ah yes-- the trail part I struggle with-- the nerd comes naturally.

Ironically when I got the invitation to run with the Nerds, I was in a slump and looking for inspiration. I tried to find new running buddies, join groups or work out at the gym, but it just wasn’t happening. I suppose you can’t look for inspiration-- it needs to find you. So thanks guys and Colleen for finding me. What I found out is that you didn’t need new material (although I was complimented on my left slanted politics) it’s just that you’re nice people, committed to having fun and pushing it to the limit, while welcoming new comers on the journey.

Later I decided to do Brew to Brew. I asked fellow trail nerd Colleen if she’d run half-- when faced with what to call the team, it was obvious. Bad Ben’s Mud Babes.

And that my friends is how I became the Mud Babe. __________________________________________________

Everyone can make a difference

I'm trying to make good use of my unemployment time. Before the holidays I was out for drinks with some artist friends, a politician and his wife. Everyone was excited for 2009, and a new era. The wife works for KACEE which promotes good environmental practices in schools. I told her about a school in Topeka I'd reported on, and found out she didn't know who was behind their impressive recycling program. So today, I nominated the woman behind the scenes who had a mission that has been making the world a much better place for over ten years. Here is what I wrote:


As a journalist I’ve attended many award ceremonies and reported on “important and impressive,” people. Doctors, Lawyers, professors and politicians. But in 11 years of reporting, there’s a woman who with a job most wouldn’t consider a profession, and a salary none would envy, has managed to shoulder an environmental movement that would make anyone proud.
In May of 2008 I was working as an anchor and reporter at KTKA in Topeka. The station had awarded the Washburn Rural High school for their “going green” practices. I was sent to do the story. Once I got there I found out it wasn’t their first award. For over ten years, the school recycles everything. Boxes, plastic, cans and paper. In fact, I think their recycling may outweigh their trash. I was escorted around the school by a teacher who had implemented the program. That was only part of the story. The rest was that the program was started by a cook. Her name is Mary Zaitz and I’d like to nominate her for the Strickler award.
Mary started working as a cook in March of 1986.
“I used to just bring the stuff home to recycle it, because the school wouldn’t let me recycle. Then I found out the city wouldn’t recycle the plastic jugs. It just killed me to throw away all those plastic jugs.”
Mary continued her personal mission to recycle at the school but the principal wouldn’t let them set up a system for fear of attracting vermin or creating other health hazards. The school nutritionist tried to approach the principal with Mary’s vision, but again the idea was struck down. Eventually another school teacher came up with a system the principal accepted. In the past, when the stories air about the school’s magnificent program, we hear about this man and not the woman behind the idea. While this bothers me a lot, it doesn’t bother Mary, she’s too busy checking up on the kids.
“Oh I’ve seen her catch the kids putting their plastic bottles in the trash, and she’ll fish them out.” I was talking to Mary’s boss Donna Bateman and getting some more insight into Mary’s mission. Later I asked Mary why this is so important to her.
“I just can’t stand to think of wasting anything. I think about how what we recycle could be turned into a bench or carpet. One day I was watching TV and saw the barges of trash from New York and it just made me sad. I’m glad we are putting out less trash into the landfill.”
In over ten years, it is tons of recycling.
Mary Zaitz doesn’t need a degree to do her job. She doesn’t wear pinstripes to work or sit in a corner office. She wears a hairnet. But she does need passion and determination to actualize her mission for the environment. You can’t learn that in school and it’s not something you can buy in a bottle. But if it was, I assure you, she’d recycle it.

Be a lifesaver

I've been pretty honest about my relationship with my mom, and I feel like a mention I made before needs some embellishment.
"My mom has saved lives."
My mom was born in Chicago, Il in 1944. Later my grandfather, Orville M. Running moved the family to Decorah, Iowa. My mom, Marjorie, grew up there in a very sheltered Lutheran environment.
When she wasn't married at the ripe old age of 21, (ancient I tell you) my grandfather let her know there were other options in life.
"Margie, there's one thing worse than not being married. That's being married to the wrong person."
She moved to New Orleans to pursue a master's degree in French, met my father, and was married a year later.
New Orleans was a different environment for my mom. I grew up in Decorah too. Things had changed by the time I was a teenager.. a lot. There were 2 black people in our school. One was the daughter of the local radiologist, the other was adopted. There may have been some others who floated in and out, but weren't there from elementary to high school.
My mom refers to Decorah as "Lake Woe-Decorah." It's a reference to Garrison Keillor's "Lake Woebegone," a fictitious town where all the "women are strong, the men are good looking and all the children are above average." Decorah is also the home of Luther College, where all the students smile and say hello, are smart and blonde and attractive. The Viking strength is mirrored in the the town of 10 thousand and people who live and work there.
"Mom, we can't finish the dishes, Philip and I just don't know where everything goes."
My brother and I were warring over a sink full of suds and arguments about who was suffering the most. Both of us wanted to give up and go watch the Sci-Fi channel.
"Just think about where it would be if you needed it. You're both above average... you can figure it out."
Great. My mom gets her parenting advice from a local radio show. Yes, in 1982 Garrison Keillor was a local act on Minnesota Public Radio.
I distinctly remember walking into the kitchen another day. (The dishes mercifully, had been completed.) My mom was wiping tears from her eyes.
"Oh Garrison.. he's so funny."
I think it was the one about how the tomatoes take over your life in August.
The melifluous voice over the speakers..
"Remember how you would have killed for a tomato in June, now they are everywhere and you want to kill them." Too much of anything (except love) is a bad thing.
Before moving back to the land of milk and honey, Decorah Iowa we lived in suburb of New Orleans.
My mom had finished up her degree in French and she and my dad started a family. We were too young then to do dishes, but it wouldn't have mattered. We had a maid.
"Everyone had them. I feel awful. It was just so cheap." My dad still feels bad about it. Interesting, because he grew up in the deep south and this was just a part of life as he knew it.
Our maid was efficient. Thorough. Beautiful. Poor. Our maid was black.
She cleaned all the houses of the upper crust, Junior League of Mettairie Lousiana. The year was 1974. My mom was 30 and had a conversation one day with the maid.
"You know you don't have to do this for a living."
"What else can I do?"
This was what the maid saw as her plot in life. She wasn't bitter, just in an environment where cleaning other people's homes was all poor black women could do to support themselves.
My mom made a few phone calls and got her a job in an office as a secretary. A new path. A new life. Respect.
My mom seriously pissed off the junior league of Mettairie Louisiana. But perhaps left them with something to think about while doing their dishes.
I told this story to Emily Horn, aka Mud Doc on our run on Sunday. It was part of a larger conversation about how some pairings of people are more than just the sum of their parts. One plus one equals 7.
"Or one plus zero equals 3."
Emily was making an observation.
"I don't want to call someone a zero."
"Sophia, that's just you plus yourself."
I will write more on this equation later, but for now suffice it to say that that day My mom was a 3. Seeing potential in others and turning it into meaning.
As a medical doctor, Emily saves lives all the time. She also challenges herself physically and emotionally, taking care of her own life. My challenge to everyone is to search within and outward. Look around. Is there a life you should be saving? Are you taking care of your own?
My mom spent 19 years pursuing a doctorate in music. Pretty impressive. It's not a medical degree, but it saved her life. And at age 30 with nothing more than a master's in French, two small children and a heart that couldn't stand seeing a gifts wasted, she saved a life.
I love you mom and I'm so proud of you for this.