“There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. Yet that will be the beginning.”

Apparently, I like that quote a lot, but the true meaning of it hasn’t sunk in my thick skull. Maybe it’s because I’m competitive with myself, maybe it’s because I strive for perfection (and have my whole life)…whatever the reason, I realize I get in this tunnel-vision mentality, trying to hit self-imposed deadlines, egging myself on, always thinking, I will be well when ______. When I shed more weight. When I shed more shyness, especially around guys. When I shed the fear of writing creatively. More, more, more. But that’s what L’Amour has been trying to tell me all along – there will always be a more. Maybe not always more weight to lose, but always room for improvement in taking care of myself. And more opportunities to meet new people. And more words. I know myself well enough to know there won’t be any shortage of stories to tell.

Striving for these things isn’t wrong; being competitive with myself, in moderation, is healthy. But the irony of it all is that the harder I try to find a finish line with wellness, with being more this or that or whatever, the more I lose sight of the real reward: being present in my everyday life, as healthy as possible.

And so I realize…it’s time to let go of the frustration I feel when I don’t take as good of care of myself as I want, or I do get shy, or I don’t write that really good idea down. Wellness is a journey, meant for me to wander…some days two steps forward, three steps back. Now it’s time to focus on what I am doing right, and not constantly pick on myself when I’m not a top performer. True perfection doesn’t really exist, anyway. I’m human, after all. I wonder what my life would look like then? Maybe my new goal should be more about imperfection than perfection.

So it was no real surprise when I started reading for fun (it takes a while to remember reading is fun after you graduate college) that I found myself in the military history aisle of my local Barnes and Noble. And there, in an all-white cover was a book entitled, Lone Survivor. After reading the back and realizing this was about a Navy SEAL, and not just any Navy SEAL, a Texan, I decided to buy it.

I expected to enjoy it. I had, at the very least, sprung for the hard cover edition. I didn’t expect it to influence me so profoundly. While I won’t go into details because I think you just need to read the book, here’s the summary: Lone Survivor is the true story of a group of Navy SEALs who went on a mission into Afghanistan to take out a Taliban leader. After being discovered my some local herders, they decided to let the herders go free–not take them prisoner or kill them. Not too long after this chance meeting, the SEALs were surrounded by the Taliban. The herders had sold them out. The book recounts some of Luttrell’s history on how he made it into the SEALs, his early years growing up in Texas, and most importantly, the battle in Afghanistan, Operation Redwing.

I read the book. (Now it’s your turn.) And then I reread the book. And I have cried each and every time I read it. I am not a fan of war; I wish for there to be peace on earth as I think most folks, no matter their background, also wish they could see in their lifetime. But the reality is that bad guys don’t call in sick. And they don’t retire. And so, while I would never wish for war, I support the  military. Without the brave men and women who put on the uniform and defend us, I would not have the freedoms I sometimes take for granted today. And my freedom is the biggest, maybe most understated, blessing of my life.

Because I’m such a military history buff, it came as no surprise to me when my brother gave me a copy of Lone Survivor on my 30th birthday. I smiled and said thanks, but I was curious. Surely, he’d heard me talk about the book, right? Surely he knew I had a copy. He told me to look inside and there…on one of the first few pages, Marcus Luttrell had written, “To Whitney. Never Quit.” I was shocked. What a message and what a gift!I vowed if I ever got to meet him myself, I would thank him for his service, and I would thank him for writing about Texans in a way that makes us proud to be from Texas.

I never dreamed I’d actually get the chance to tell him thank you in person (how often does that happen?), but Luttrell has written a new book, Service, and he came to Austin for a signing. Needless to say, I was first in line. I was so nervous (I didn’t want to choke up in front of him), but I sincerely wanted him to know I appreciated the sacrifices he and all the other service men and women have made and continue to make. And I really wanted him to know how happy I was he wrote about Texas like it should be written.

And so he came walking up to the signing line, opened up a box of pens and said, “Let’s get this show on the road.” I walked up to him shyly, handed him my book, and I can’t believe it, but I actually managed to get the words out.

So that’s a nice story for me, you might say. Maybe you really will take my advice and read his books. But what’s the wellness takeaway? Never quit.

Rating: 4 stars; This recipe is in my rotation. I think you’ll like it, too.
Serving size and calories: Serves four; 330 calories in each serving.
Best time to cook: Winter months in Texas, when root vegetables are at their peak.
(I realize it’s May. Please don’t call the Seasonal Police.)

Ingredients
1/2 cup non-fat Greek yogurt
3 T minced fresh ginger
3 cloves garlic
1 t ground coriander
1 t ground cumin
1 t paprika
1/2 t ground turmeric
1/2 t sea salt
1/4 t cayenne pepper
1 lb. pork tenderloin, trimmed of excess fat and cut into 1-inch cubes
1 T olive oil
1 yellow onion, halved and cut into thin wedges
1 can chopped tomatoes, in their juices
10 oz. small fingerling potatoes, halved in length
3 carrots, trimmed, peeled, and cut into diagonal 1/4-inch thick slices
2 T coarsely chopped fresh cilantro leaves for garnish

Recipe adaption: I usually cut up baby carrots and guess about how many I need. I also use spice powders if I don’t have fresh on hand, such as crushed ginger powder, instead of fresh ginger.

Directions
1. In a medium bowl mix together the Greek yogurt and all the spices. Add the pork and toss to coat. Let sit at room temperature until you are ready to cook it, otherwise cover and marinade until you want to cook the pork.

2. In a medium saute pan with a tight-fitting lid, heat the oil on low. Add the onion and cook, stirring constantly for about a minute. Then cover the pan and cook, stirring occasionally, for about 5 minutes.

3. Add the pork and marinade to pan. Stir in the tomatoes, potatoes, and carrots, plus 1/2 cup water.

4. Increase heat to medium, cover and simmer until pork is cooked through and the potatoes and carrots are fork-tender (~15-18 minutes). I sometimes let mine go a little longer because I like softer veggies in this dish.

5. Ladle into serving bowls and garnish with cilantro . (I’m not a garnish girl, just FYI.)

6. Tell me how much you like it.

Why I feel the love: I never even tasted Indian food (or maybe the proper term is Southeast Asian cuisine) until I moved to Austin. Growing up in the Texas panhandle, there are plenty of options for hole-in-the-wall Tex-Mex and local BBQ joints, but curry? I don’t ever remember it being an option. Austin, however, has excellent restaurants with curry on the menu;  I can thank my coworkers for introducing me to my first curry experience at Indian Palace. And while I won’t turn down an invitation to eat there, I wanted to find a curry dish that I could master, tasted yummy, but was light on the calories. This dish meets those requirements, but what makes it extra special is that a) it calls for fingerling potatoes…some fingerlings are naturally purple in color (my favorite color). Eating them brings a smile to my face, and b) This is a one-pot dish, making it easy to c lean up and even easier to pack as my work lunch.

***********************************************************************************

The Austin Half Marathon sponsor is LIVESTRONG, a non-profit organization based in Austin that works to improve the lives of those affected by cancer. Started in 1997 by world-champion cyclist Lance Armstrong, the organization sponsors athletic events as one way to raise awareness and funds for the fight against cancer. Athletes can pledge to fund raise for the organization, and in turn they are considered part of the LIVESTRONG team. Joining the team includes special race wear, and, for the Austin Half Marathon and Marathon, an invitation to the non-profit’s headquarters for brunch the day before the race. My friend Carrie is part of the LIVESTRONG team; when she asked me to go to the brunch, I readily agreed. Even though I’m not on the team this year, I, like most of the rest of us, have definitely been affected by cancer, and I fully support anyone’s efforts to bring an end to the disease.

Carrie and I arrive at LIVESTRONG headquarters in time to take a tour of the facility. Immediately, I notice how hospitable the LIVESTRONG staff are and how proud they are to show us where they work to make a difference around the globe with their mission. The office looks more like a museum than a workspace. Art from Lance Armstrong’s private collection hangs on the walls, and our tour guide explains some of the pieces to us.

Lance's journey in sculpture.

There is a massive bike wheel made up of smaller bike wheels, and the art for each spoke/wheel represents a piece of Lance’s journey to his multi-Tour de France wins. Then, there is my favorite piece: An artist has branded the entire state of Texas onto wood. Carrie and I check out the intricate details of the map; I even find my hometown.

Carrie finds Austin.

Moving further through the offices, we see Lance’s Olympic gold medal and several of his framed jerseys.

Just a few of Lance's many jerseys.

After the tour, we grab a breakfast taco (an Austin staple), and sit down in a common area for a presentation. We see a short video that is hard for me to watch; listening to stories about cancer brings back memories of my Grandpa, and his own fight with lung cancer. Throughout the presentation, though, I realize I’m very impressed by the relevance of this non-profit. You can tell they are living and breathing what is happening right now in the mission to find cures, support those in the fight, and help survivors, families, and friends in any way they can.

After the video, I’m excited to see Joan Benoit Samuelson come out onto the stage. I’ve always wanted to see her ever since I realized she is the first woman to win the Olympic gold medal in marathon running.

Joan talks about what running means to her, and how she herself has been affected by knowing others with cancer. After speaking for a bit, she mentions a friend of hers will be joining her…and out walks Lance Armstrong himself! I’m so excited, I totally forget how to work my cell camera. Carrie and I alternate trying to take pictures…this one isn’t the best, but hey, it proves we were in the same room as them, right?

Joan and Lance and we were there!

Together, they talk about the serious efforts and current priorities of LIVESTRONG, and then Joan jokes mercilessly with Lance, letting him know she expects him to keep up with her as she runs the half marathon tomorrow. (Let me reassure you, I never thought I’d participate in an event that included two Olympic medalists. Never say never.) By far the most inspiring moment of the month comes when Joan says, “Cancer will have a finish line; running won’t.”

As I mentioned many moons ago, I was really nervous about the 3M Half Marathon. Sure, I’d lived through San Antonio, but that was before holiday eating and my injury. I’d officially fallen behind my running group, and I was pretty much training solo. In reality, I had no idea how close I was to my San Antonio pace.

Getting to the race
Dan, Leah’s husband, graciously agrees to get up in the middle of the night and drive us to the start line. He’s training for a marathon and is skipping the race to do a longer run. This simultaneously blows my mind and inspires me.

The start line
This is such a smaller race compared to San Antonio that it looks like a few friends gathered together for a run in the dark. In reality, it’s several thousand runners, ranging from Austin’s elite to first timers. Leah and I wave goodbye to Rebekah; she’ll meet up with some ladies from our running group. We make plans to meet up with her at the finish line. I say a prayer that I don’t see the finish line out the back of a van window.

Leah and I huddle among the start line mob, when out of the corner of my eyes, I see it. No way, I think to myself. But I start chuckling and nudge Leah. There’s a really tall guy at the start line, wearing a banana hat. What is with me always seeing humans dressed like bananas at races? Odd, sure. But it helped me relax enough, you know, to actually start when the gun goes off.

Leah and I both remark: it’s dark, but the air is nearly 100% moisture. And its muggy. I wonder, barring no vans, what will the humidity and 13.1 miles race do to my hair?

Miles 1-3
I don’t tell Leah I’m nervous, but I know she can sense it. Instead, we make a game out of counting how many dude runners dart into the shrubs and trees lining the first half mile. Apparently, the first mile is the ideal time to go. We make it to the first mile marker in 12 minutes, and I begin to relax. This isn’t going to win us a spot in the Olympics, but it just might get us across the finish line.

This part of the course is an area of Austin I drive often; it seems so surreal to be here pounding the payment instead of driving around these roads in my big SUV.

Miles 4-6
We settle into a decent pace, although the humidity and the not-so-cold Austin winter weather makes it feel as though we’re sloshing through a sauna. While this race is infamously labeled “fast and flat,” Leah and I soon catch on: There are some flat parts. And some downhills (woohoo!). Oh, but yeah, no one mentions the part about a few uphill stretches. I’m not able to talk much while running at this point in my running career. In fact, all I’m able to do is suck in as much oxygen as possible, exhale, and repeat, while I plod forward left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot. Leah, on the other hand, is in better shape, and I notice she is quietly thanking all the kind police women and men who are watching the road blocks for us. My running buddy is one classy lady, wouldn’t you agree? I follow her lead, and although I can’t speak, I wave to as many of them as possible.

It’s also during this part of the race that the crowd thins out, and we’re mostly surrounded my folks running at our pace. And that’s when I notice him: A really big guy running alongside a very fit woman. He reminds me so much of myself: he’s bigger than most of the other runners I’ve seen on the course, yet he keeps going. Leah and I remark about how inspiring he is. We keep him in our sights as long as possible.

Miles 7-9
My friend Jessie has told me she’ll try to cheer me on from about mile 9. So all morning in the back of my mind, I’m thinking: run to Jessie, run to Jessie, no vans…well, you get the idea. And so Leah and I near a stoplight when I see her. But she’s brought company: my friends, Lisa and Staci. And they’ve made posters: Run Whitney Run in my favorite color, purple. And they smile and wave and cheer for us and taking pictures as we jog by. And I wave to them and thank them and look all normal and happy on the outside. But inside I am overcome. I am beyond blessed. Three of my coworkers (and friends) give up their Sunday morning to stand out on a random Austin street corner with posters. For me. This is why I love my job. And I’ve said it before, but it’s worth mentioning again: Jessie, Lisa, and Staci are smart women. They cheer us on from the bottom of a hill. Fast and flat, my butt, I think to myself. Without their cheers, that hill would have been agonizingly painful. Instead, it’s just painful.

Miles 10-12
When we hit double-digit mileage, Leah and I congratulate each other. And in the back of my mind, I’m running towards another friend and coworker, Adri. Adri is an elite athlete and cheerleader extraordinaire. One of my favorite things about her is the fact that even though she’s an elite athlete and I’m a rookie, she never treats me as anything but a fellow competitor. My self-esteem will love Adri forever for this.

So right after mile 10, I look up and she’s sitting in a lawn chair, waiting on me. She jumps up and joins me and Leah on the course. It’s a great few minutes that give me the boost I need to finish. And Leah and I desperately need a little shot of happiness or power or something right about now because we realize we congratulated ourselves a little early. It’s hot and humid and neither of us are talking because the only thing to talk about is: when will it end? We turn a corner and a spectator shouts: Only a little 5K left! I consider punching her. (Yes, my pain turns to fake violence in my head. Deal with it.) But what I really consider is asking this spectator…lady, do I look like I’ll make it another little 5K?

Leah and I turn onto some part of UT campus and I think to myself: Oh, it’s not as spread out as Tech, but UT campus isn’t small. This is bad. This is really bad. Another spectator, a guy, with I swear not a drop of sweat on his body is clapping and pointing and shouting, “The finish line! The finish line!” Leah and I look at each other and roll our eyes. What finish line? We don’t see any…and then it comes into view. People lining either side. The big clock overhead. We pick up our pace.

As we get closer, out of the corner of my eye, I see Rebekah. And she’s standing really close to the race announcer, and she’s wearing a different shirt than we started, and what’s that? OMG, yes, she’s got silver pompoms flanking her hips, stuck shot-gun style into her running belt. And right as we cross, the announcer says, Happy Birthday, Whitney and Leah! (Leah and I celebrate birthdays seven days apart. Today’s race is my birthday eve.) The pain and the doubt and the fear rush out of me. Suddenly everyone is around us, congratulating us on the run and wishing us a Happy Birthday.

Rebekah finds us and pulls out tiaras and feather boas. Which makes me think: most folks do not carry such awesome accessories in their gear check bags. Or do they? And Rebekah is wearing a t-shirt she made in honor of our birthdays. We pose for some really awesome pictures (for future reference: you don’t have to worry about your hair if you’re wearing the perfect birthday tiara.)

Best Birthday Run Ever!

We kickoff the post-race celebration with breakfast at Austin Java, where our waiter serves us as we sit there, tiaras, boas, medals, all sweaty and happy, without batting an eye. Only in Austin. After the race, we go to my apartment and take pictures with some funny signs we’ve made for the calendar.

Will run for Post-It Notes

I’m so deliriously happy. We end the day by gathering up some booze and heading to the apartment’s hot tub. Yes, the weather is nice enough on January 30th in Austin for hot tubbin’. We laugh about the race and the spectacular finish. I mean, come on, Rebekah persuaded the race announcer to help us celebrate…that accomplishment deserves its own medal.

The next day, on my actual birthday, I arrive at work to find the posters my friends brought to the race hanging outside my cube. They’ve also decorated the whole place in you guessed it, purple. The birthday festivities went on for about a week, with a post-race massage, a girls’ night ice cream fest, dinner with a bestie, and a special dinner with my sister-in-law and bro. Basically, we partied until Leah’s birthday, and then we partied again.

The ladies. The posters. The wardrobe selection.

Special thanks to Rebekah, Leah, Dana, Jessie, Lisa, Staci, and Adri for making this an unforgettable birthday run. If I had known turning 31 was this much fun, I’d have done it last year! In fact, I think I’ll turn 31 again next year…

Ingredients

• 1 McCormick Garlic Lime Chicken Fajita spice pack
• 1/4 cup lime juice
• 1/4 cup orange juice
• 2 tbsp. olive oil
• 1/2 tsp. salt
• 1-2 lbs. boneless skinless chicken breasts, cut into small pieces
• 1 medium green bell pepper, cut into thin strips
• 1 medium red bell pepper, cut into thin strips
• 1 medium onion, thinly sliced
• 1 can of diced green chillies
• 1 can of black beans

Instructions

1. Mix juices, oil, the spice pack, and salt to create the marinade. Reserve 1/4 cup of the marinade, and use the rest to marinate the chicken. (I used a gallon Ziploc bag for this.) You should refrigerate the marinating chicken for 30 minutes or longer.
2. After marinating, cook chicken in a skillet on medium-high heat until lightly browned, and then remove the chicken from the skillet.
3. Add bell peppers, onions, chillies, and reserved marinade to the same skillet and cook until tender.
4. Return the chicken to the skillet and cook all ingredients until heated through.
5. Cook the black beans separately; then serve the chicken mixture over the black beans.

I guess you could say I woke up and realized: I miss my blog. And while I know there’s no excuse for me not showing up to the blank page, I feel like I should tell you how I’ve been spending my time: working, running, visiting with family, hanging out with friends, attending writing workshops, and watching really junky reality TV. Oh, and I totally did some laundry in there. And in the middle of all that living, I got focused on setting really high (read: perfect) expectations on my written work. All the writers I know do this to themselves from time to time, so at least I’m in fabulous company, but I’ll just admit to you right now that I got myself all kinds of stressed out over the details: sweating over word count; agonizing over titles; and strategizing approximately how many minutes a day I should devote to writing. Which totally squeezed the joy right out of it. Thus, I became the Emily Dickinson of the blogosphere. She’s still a writer, but no one has seen her in a really, really long time.

Thank goodness I have friends. Because a wise friend listened to me moan and groan about missing writing and how perfect I thought it needed to be and how I wasn’t sure I could devote 59 minutes and thirty seconds on the fourth Tuesday of the full moon…oh yeah, right. So my friend cut me off after about five minutes of this wallowing. And she came up with a brilliant plan: What if I just chose to write imperfectly? No expectations, no stress, just the pure joy of trying to do one of the things I love to do. So I’m taking her advice. I make no promises, dear blog. There will be no word count or writing time goals. I’m leaving all that behind. I’d rather just tell the truth however many words it takes and however long it takes me.

Love,

Your writer

January 2011

Time moves as fast as the sands in the Pictionary timer  my brother and I used to flip-flop over and over to cheat while we played the game. But this isn’t a game of win, lose, or draw back in my parents’ den; it’s the first month of 2011 and all the New Year promises I’ve made to myself are fading from shiny “oh, that is a fantastic idea,” into “oh, that’s a lot of work.” We’ve had a post-holiday rush at work, and to top it all off—the very last day of the month is my birthday. Even though this means I’m about to be older, I’m pretty excited about the upcoming festivities. My birthday falls on a week day, which also means it’s pay day. Pay day is always sweet, but pay day on your birthday? Somehow it just feels like a gift. And I’ve got plans; I’m gearing up for some fun. But if I’m really honest, I have to admit–I’m scared, too.

At the end of last year, I felt a stabbing pain in my heel the day after a simple run. When I couldn’t shake the pain away, I saw a doctor. His diagnosis? Plantar fasciitis or a stress fracture. Neither is good news for a runner. I decided to get a second opinion. This time, I saw a doctor specializing in sports-related injuries. He said I was on the cusp of plantar fasciitis. He began working with me, and while the therapy was brutally painful, the heel pain disappeared. Through my therapy, we also found some IT Band issues, and we’ve been working through them, too. So here I am, going to therapy twice a week, doing some exercises on my own. But I fell behind the mileage pace of my running group, so I started training solo. Even for someone like me, a real loner, training alone is not always easy or fun. Especially on a nearby trail in the cold gray mornings of January. And for two weekends in a row, I ran a sloppy six mile run in the mist and rain. Gross and slow, to sum up how it went. Gross and slow. Which was depressing. Sure, I was relieved to be back, so to speak. Back from the heel pain and able to run at all. But with each run on the treadmill in my friend’s gym, or out between the mud puddles of the trail, I was getting more and more worried. This was not a New Year’s resolution to work off that holiday pie (although I need that in my life). This wasn’t just casual huffing-and-puffing my way through a workout routine. January 30 I was signed up to run another half marathon with my friends, and each passing day was hurling me towards the start line. It would be our inaugural race. It was the first one for the calendar. But could I do it? Had San Antonio been some sort of ordained miracle fluke?

The day of packet pick up, I tried not to think about anything, really. Rebekah and I went to 3M and grabbed our information. The line was short, which helped me not get so nervous standing there, thinking about what was going to happen tomorrow. And the goodie bag was incredible. 3M makes some amazing products, and we were definitely given a ton of great stuff in our bag, including Scotch cleaning pads, a pair of safety glasses, wipes for car washing, and Post-It notes. Good thing I’d do anything for office supplies.

We ate a pre-run meal at Rudy’s, complete with lean protein and carbs a la potato salad.

I went home and tried to sleep. Mostly I just worried.

Austin Runner Tracking