July 05, 2008

Notes from Minnesota II

Aaron got up at 6:30 a.m. to go fishing. Or as he says, catching. His friend Roger found a hidden little lake near his house that has huge bass and is rarely fished. It's their little secret.

There was a mini triathlon this morning in the park behind our house, so I took my towel and my camera and watched for awhile. I got over there right as the first finisher crossed the line, somewhere around 56 minutes. It would take me 45 minutes probably just to run the 3 miles, let alone swim 3/4 mile and bike 15! I sat in my little camping chair and kept my sunglasses on to hide the tears filling my eyes as I watched runner after runner bring it in. Their husbands, wives, kids, parents lined the course yelling their names, telling them they only had a few more yards to go. There is something about races that brings out the best in us. We encourage. We cheer. We push ourselves farther than we think we can. It's inspiring. I almost really started crying when a 13-year-old girl approached the finish line with her dad right next to her. His eyes were focused only on her; he was in her ear telling her to kick it, to go strong. What's a better metaphor for life than a race? It's long, it's hard, but you have to just keep going and finish as strong as you can.

There is something so exquisite about a lazy Saturday with nothing on the agenda. All the windows are open and breezes come through and I have laundry going and an empty dishwasher. The dogs are all underneath the ottoman; Eller fell asleep on his bone. Chewing is just so exhausting.

My mom is coming to visit in August, and she can't get here soon enough. I'm homesick in the worst way. Being married is great. I like my job (even though I hate the commute) and I like the house and living in such a beautiful place. But I miss my friends in a wicked way. Sarah is nearing the end of her pregnancy, and even though we e-mail every day and I get to see her belly pictures on Flickr, when I think about that baby girl and how I won't get to see her be born, or visit in the hospital, it's almost more than I can take. Sarah and I lived only a few miles apart, so in a different life, I would have likely spent many evenings with them. Heart break!

I think a lot about the day I will become a mother. It's weird, in some ways I feel like I already am, I just don't have any kids yet.

Posted by hannah at 11:25 AM