I just became a runner.

I went on a run today for the first time in a long time and I am officially calling myself a runner. To those of you who have been dedicated to this sport for a long time, I'm sorry if this offends you that I am taking on this title after one day, but hear me out...

I have never gone on a run in my life and felt like I never wanted to stop or like it was refreshing or like I wanted to do it again and again and again. I just went on the best run of my life and I am calling myself a runner because it is officially something I want to do every day (as often as I can). I feel exhausted and refreshed and bustling with energy (which is a huge deal to me right now).

To be fair, I am also a quitter and a mess.

I am a quitter because I don't push myself beyond my limits in things that I am not confident that I am good at. I push in relationships, push with my kids at school, push on my school work. I give up on most other things. Take running for example, I run a little bit one time about once every other month. During that run, I always slow down and convince myself that running is just not for me. I quit.

For those that know me, you are probably thinking "you don't give up, you take risks, ect ect" But let me promise you, I am a quitter and just hide it really really well by my incessant "busy" schedule.

Next, we have the "I am a mess" statement to clarify. Take a stethoscope into my thoughts or listen to a story about my past week and you will be more than satisfied with that label on my life. I have made such an ugly, sticky mess this week of the relationships in my life. I am now single and officially trying to stop picking up the pieces. Why? (You ask) Why am I stopping? Oh, that would be because I pushed and pushed to fix my relationships and made them a bigger mess in the process.

I am reaching the end of one of the hardest weeks in my life and I am still breathing. (which is a success I would like either a gold star or maybe a smelly sticker for, please?) Although this has been one of the hardest weeks emotionally and personally, this has also been one of the sweetest weeks with my kids at school. I have been hyper-focused at interacting with my kiddos at school in effort to force my mind to stop thinking {I literally didn't take my 1/2 hour break all week because I didn't want to stop...like I said - I'm a mess}.

From all this rambling, I will leave you with a beautiful story of one of my sweetest moments this week. Ralph (name changed for confidentiality) is a 6-year old child in my kindergarten class. Ralph is known around school for his shrieking (cry/yell/shout) he often does in the hallways when he does not get what he wants or cannot communicate exactly what he wanted--yes, the WHOLE school can hear. Anyway, one day at the end of playcourt, as I turned around to help another child exit the playground, Ralph--in full force--took both fists and hit me in the back because I had removed a toy from his hands before he was ready. After taking some time to recompose, the day continued.

Later, during free choice time, I was determined to ignore Ralph because his hit actually hurt and had damaged my trust for him and our relationship. I was in charge of "floating" around the classroom to make sure kids were engaged and getting along, when Ralph walked up to me with picnic basket in hand..."Do you want to go on a picnic?" he asked in his cartoon-like voice. I wanted to say no, I wanted to tell him how I really felt, I wanted to tell him I couldn't take it anymore. But, in my kindergarten-teacher-has-it-all-together voice, I sighed, "Of course." And he proceeded with, "Okay, follow me!" We enjoyed a beautiful picnic together as we lounged on our sides on the comfy grass (aka: gross carpet). We ended up having to clean up because (in Ralph's words) it was smelling like rain.

That's grace, folks. The adult in me was ready to ignore, be angry, and carry around the weight of the hurt relationship. Meanwhile, this beautiful child was over it and ready to move on with life and enjoy our relationship again. Thank you, Ralph, for teaching me to let go and move on.

Oh, and also...thank you for the delicious plastic pineapple. I had a delightful picnic.