2013 is Gone, and My Poinsettia is Dead

It seems to be in vogue to make a non-extreme New Year’s resolution these days – you know, setting yourself up for failure with big goals and whatnot. I’m an all-or-nothing girl. Go big, or go home. I love big resolutions. Last year, I woke up on January 1st, and I said, “I’m running a marathon in April.” This year, I resolved to make myself a pot of soup. On the surface, the pot of soup may seem less extreme than the marathon goal. I assure you it’s just as big of a deal.

Last fall, my dear friend, Olene, was dying of cancer. I loved her. She was special. She was one-of-a kind. I wanted to be with her as much as possible during her last days, so when I wasn’t working I was at the hospital. I wasn’t running, and running is simply what I do. I was mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted. We lost Olene in early November. The problem with loving someone like Olene: when they are gone, they leave a void. She was so…alive. She just lived life. Everyday. She was a fashion statement. She was a survivor. She was funny. She was honest. She was…color. She added color to my life. Heck, she added animal print to my life.

On January 1st of last year, I woke up & decided I’d run the marathon in Olene’s honor. The training was grueling. When I became injured, my childhood friend & fellow runner, Brian, said, “Hey, I know this acupuncturist…” I could not have continued to train without “Swami Brad,” as I called him. In the needling process, Swami Brad saw parts of my naked body that I’m pretty sure The Gambler hasn’t seen. Marathon training is not for the faint-of-heart. Or the modest.

I remember my longest training run. I ran from Patterson Park in Murfreesboro to the Stones River Hospital in Woodbury. At about the half-way point, I looked up and buzzards were circling me. Literally. I began laughing like a mad-woman stranded in the desert. I looked to the skies & said, “Olene, if I stop now, these birds are gonna eat me. I may see you soon.” I did not stop. I was not eaten.

I am richly blessed with friends. Dear friends. My running buddy, Jennifer, has commented several times about how she is awestruck by my “eclectic” group of friends. It's a very true observation. Debbie made me an “In Memory of Olene” pin with Olene’s picture to wear during the race. She bought me an animal print headband to wear as well. Friends & family called, texted, and emailed to wish me luck. Olene’s husband, Billy, called. Olene’s sister-in-law wrote me a beautiful letter that I shall always treasure.

Jennifer had texted me asking if anyone was running the full with me. I told her Debbie was running the half, and we’d be together until the split. I love so many things about Jennifer, but one of the things I love most is her honesty. She ran the Country Music Full a few years before, the day she & I met, actually, and she called the second half, “The Dark Half.” She said she was going to meet me at mile marker 19, & she was going to run some of the race with me. When she made that promise, she didn’t know it would be POURING down rain. She was still there at mile marker 19. In the rain. Just as I knew she would be. She brought chicken nuggets for me. She told me funny stories. She made me laugh. She made me forget the pain. Toward the end, she told me, “You are going to finish strong.” When I said, “I can’t,” she said, “You will.” And I did. I don't call her my Running Yoda for nothin', y'all. Normally, non-bibbed runners are pulled off the course & aren’t able to cross the finish line, but because of the rain & all the ponchos, they didn’t know Jennifer wasn’t “legal,” so she crossed the line with me.

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Renee & Debbie were both there at the finish line. They cried for me. Renee sat in hours of gridlock to be there. Debbie waited in the pouring rain after finishing her own half to be there. They tried to eat soggy nachos in the rain. The nachos, I heard-tale, were a marathon casualty of war.

Momma called while I was on the course to check on my blistered feet. Mothers apparently worry a lot about blisters. Mine does, at least. The Gambler called. The Gambler never calls. I was surprised he had my number. I heard from my Bristol family. My girlfriends messaged and called. People called my parents to make sure I was okay. My phone stopped working from all the rain, so people posted messages for me on facebook.

The experience was therapy for me. And, as all things in life should be, it was a learning experience. The most important thing I learned is that I am richly blessed with my “eclectic friends.” Renee has Olene’s compassion. Debbie has her honestly. Desi is wearing her animal print. Lisa has her passion. Jennifer has her love for life. Heck, Jennifer even has Olene’s hair. I could go on and on. I can hear Olene whisper, “These girls who love you, they carry a little part of me. Fill the void with them. Live. Live well. Oh, and have another chocolate cake shot for me. I’d NEVER let those buzzards eat you. St. Peter, btw, is a real perv.”

This year, one year later, my resolve was to make a pot of soup. I love soup. The Gambler hates soup, so I never make soup. My resolve is about more than a pot of soup. I am thinking of my own needs this year. I have a demanding, difficult job that pulls me in a thousand different directions. I will sometimes put the needs of others behind my own needs. It is a good, challenging New Year’s Resolution. I am up for the challenge.

It was vegetable beef soup. It was delicious.