Stress Fracture

Back in September '10, I was almost ready for my first half marathon.  I had worked so hard, going from someone who could barely finish 3 miles to someone very close to running 13.  My foot started hurting...  Shooting pains in the foot near my ankle.  I had it x-rayed, and the inept doctor told me nothing was wrong...  That maybe I needed a wedge in my shoe.  So he put a wedge in my shoe and told me to run.  "Ice it if it swells."  What a doctor that was. 

I did, however, complete that October half marathon and two more, the Dallas White Rock Half in December and the Renaissance Half here in Ridgeland in April.  I have had some minor issues with the foot - hurting and swelling after long runs.  But nothing debilitating. 

And now, as I finished up the first two weeks of marathon training, my foot starts swelling.  Not so much hurting, but major swelling.

I made an appointment with a NEW doctor at the sports medicine clinic and saw her Monday.  She looked at the x-rays from September and the new ones and pointed to the stress fracture in both x-rays.  The new ones with a worse case than the September ones.  I don't understand why the first doctor didn't see this.  So I have an MRI tomorrow to see what I'm looking at as far as running goes.  Could be as little as several weeks of no running to up to 6 months. 

I was devasted by my swollen foot back in September and the possibility of not completing this first half marathon that had become such a reachable goal for me through all the hard work.  This time, I wasn't as devastated.  There will be other races... other marathons.  And I'd really love to get this foot fixed before I start a marathon training program, obviously.  I had only completed 2 of 18 weeks.  It could have been SO much worse.  I could have been a week away from the marathon.  For that I am very thankful.

Even though I know all that, and I can surely see the good things about finding this out now, I still have my moments.  I realized today I couldn't run the Watermelon Classic on the July 4th with my kids (they were excited about it.)  That was a sad moment. 

I went into the bedroom and saw that the power light was on on the treadmill.  I went over and turned it off and wondered when would be the next time I turned it on.  That was sad.

And I was folding clothes tonight and folded up my running clothes from the last time I ran and put them away in my running clothes drawer.  That was the saddest I've been so far.  My mind started wandering... What if the MRI shows something bad and I'm out of the running game for the whole next season of marathons?  What if running a marathon just isn't in the cards for me?  As I shut the drawer, I wondered When will I open this drawer again?

I've never been an athlete.  Never.  I was a cheerleader, but I wasn't even a good cheerleader.  I can't jump.  I'm not flexible.  I'm scared of things flying in the air towards me.  I get motion sick worse than anyone I've known.  I'm not even really a fan of sweat.  It's just so ironic to me that I actually find this sport I love and this happens.  I asked my husband tonight, "Can you believe I actually have a sports injury!?  HA!"  He said, "That is pretty unexpected." 

I know running has become my thing.  It was so hard to do for me.  It does not come naturally.  I have to work so hard, but I can work hard.  And I can do it.  My training was going so easily.  I really thought this marathon was going to happen.  I thought that 13.1 sticker was going to be replaced with a 26.2. 

It will.  I'm doing everything in my power to make it happen.  I have a great doctor now... The foot specialist at the sports medicine clinic.  I have an awesome God who answers prayers and knows my heart and its desires.  So... I guess this is a to-be-continued situation.  And it will be continued....

Second week

It's just the second of 18 weeks in this process, and I'm ALREADY a little demoralized.  I'm not quitting.  Not a chance.  But I'm thinking that maybe I don't have the kind of time I thought I had.  These have been relatively short runs this week.  Nothing more than about an hour of running.  But it's going to get agonizing.  The day before my church's 5K race that I'm directing I will have run 18 miles.  I run 18 miles on Friday and am up super early the next day directing a 5K.  Really? 

I keep thinking I should have done this with my friends last year.  How much easier would it be with a team of people who are training with you?  Encouraging you.  Telling you (or screaming at you, in my case) to "Move your ass and don't stop running!" (Thank you Ali.  I needed that.)  But last year, the mere thought of a half marathon was an impossible one.  And it was for me.  There is no way I was ready or had the natural ability to run a full marathon after only completing a few 5K races.  So my friends trained for the full while I trained for the half.  And we all succeeded.  I was so proud of them.  And I was proud of myself.  It was an unreachable goal for me.  And for them.  And we reached it.

But here I am.  I was kind of counting on either Lenny or one of my friends being there with me to run the last 5 miles or so of each of my long runs.  I thought that I'd be able to make it that way.  But I don't think that's going to happen.  People have their own lives to live.... responsibilties.... schedules.  I can't possibly think that everyone around me should just stop what they are doing and go run an hour with me.  When I realized that, I was sad.  Could I really do it?  Alone? 

And then I thought back to my first half marathon (the one I blogged on here about).  I ran that race alone.  Just me and God.  And it was in the top 5 most amazing things I've ever experienced.  I need to always remember that.  I'm not doing this marathon for anyone else.  And honestly, if I had no encouragement or support at all, it would be hard, but I would still do it.  But I will have support.  It's a personal journey for me.  It's an impossible feat.  It's not about weight loss or fitness level.  In fact, I strangely care nothing about that.  It's about self-discipline and reliance on God.  It's about seeing this unreachable goal and reaching it.  Just me.  Just me and God.  And I have no doubts whatsoever that He will be there for me every single mile.  I look forward to that time together. 

How I Know I'm Getting Old

Age is a strange thing to me.  I know I'm a little bit obsessed with it.  But I think it's because on the inside, I feel absolutely no different than I did when I was 15 or 25.  Sure.  I have learned things and may make different choices now, but really, I kind of doubt it.  The only thing that has really changed for me since I was a teenager is my knowing that I'm not always right.  I'm so much more inclusive of people who are different than me.  I relate to just about everyone on some level.  I know I am no better than any person in the world.  In high school, I'm sure I thought I was the best one.  Regardless, I still feel young inside.  Really young.  And I just recently started thinking When did I get older?  When did that happen?  I promise you I see a 23 year old and think they are my peer.  And they really kind of aren't.  There have been a couple different occasions or events in my life that I will never forget as being a turning point in my age.  Or others' perceptions of my age.  So I've created a list of these different moments or events that I recall as standing out in my mind as reminders that I am in fact growing older.  And they all sucked.

1.  The first one was when I was 24.  I went to a Mary Kay party and they were talking about skin care products.  One girl said to me, "You should try this that I use.  It's great."  The leader of the Mary Kay stuff said, "Well, she probably needs to start using our Timewise series.  That that you use is for teenagers."  Timewise?!  I need to reverse time on my face already??  Yikes. 

2.  The second was when I was 25.  I was cast as Mrs. Cratchit in A Christmas Carol.  I had a daughter who was probably 20 in real life.  Um... I can seriously pass for a woman old enough to have a teenage daughter?!  I was a teenager myself just a few years ago?!  That event doesn't bother me much now bc it WAS theatre.  And age range is vast.  If I can still pass for 20 on stage NOW, yeah, I could pass for 35 when I was 25.  But, regardless, it was an eye-opener for me back then.

3.  The third.... Turning 30.  Enough said about that.

4.  The fourth one happened soon after turning 30.  I realized, according to Urban Dictionary, I was in the age range of someone who could be a COUGAR.  That's right.  I was cougar age.  I wasn't a cougar.  Don't misunderstand.  I wasn't after a college frat boy, but I was the right age for it.  I cried that day.

5.  The fifth was also when I was 30.  I took some mother/baby photos with my newborn son.  When the pictures came back, my skin looked different.  Like saggier or something.  I blamed the photographer.  Seriously.  He totally could have said, "That's just what your skin looks like."  But no.  He was super nice and said he'd see what he could do.  I realized after that that it wasn't the photographer's fault.  That woman in the photo was just me. 

6.  The next one happened about a year or two ago.  I don't know what we were talking about as far as casting goes, but all I can remember is my friend who casts lots of shows at New Stage saying something like, "You're not that young anymore Jess.  You can't play those 20-something roles anymore."  That kind of stunned me a little.  I mean, I was barely 30.  I was closer to being 20-something than being 40.  That comment sent me to Dr. Blackledge for Botox.

7.  The next one happened just this year at my yearly physical.  I had gained a solid 8 lbs.  I had been about the same weight for 12 years... give or take a pound... not counting being pregnant, of course.  I didn't understand.  I had become a full out runner in this last year.  Before, I was pretty much a NON exerciser.  How could I have gained weight?!  Age.  That's how.  Metabolism.  Hormones.  I'm getting older.  I have to work harder.  Ouch.

8.  Then last week at the beach.  A busboy who was in his mid-twenties answered a question I posed to him with "Yes M'am."  Oh. My. Gosh.  Please no.  I was NOT old enough to be this guy's mother.  Why would he say that?!    I told him to never do that again.  To anyone around my age.  But, then, how old did he think I was?  He apologized, and I told him I'd be okay after I went to the bathroom and cried.

8.  And last... Tonight.  I was just thinking about how I wish Lenny would take me dancing somewhere.  Or either one of my gay guy friends (which Lenny probably wouldn't have a problem with).  Then I thought Does Jackson still have dance places?  Then that led me to think about that old place The Dock.  I remember as a college student hating to go to that place.  It was just the worst.  The music was bad.  Those "dock rocker" drinks gave me brain freeze.  And, most importantly, it was full of old people.  And standing in my kitchen today, I realized that those "old people" were probably about my age.  That one was painful.  So painful it made me start blogging about this stuff.

And now I'm approaching my scariest age to date.  Scarier than the big 3-0.  Scarier than the Jesus age.  It's the age that women start having increased birth defects in their children... the year your skin goes to hell... the year the doctors tell you you shouldn't take birth control pills anymore because of the risk of blood clots.  I'll be in the next age bracket in track races. 

But you know?  What's the alternative to growing older?  I love my life.  I'm thankful for my kids.  My husband, health, talents, opportunities, and on and on.  All I can do is try my best to keep a youthful energy and outlook and appearance.  I guess it's important to me, whether it should be or not.  I love my life.  I wouldn't change a thing.  Except maybe those forehead wrinkles of mine. :)

Women Leaders in the Church

Lately, with some extra time on my hands, I have been thinking about something related to the church.  First, I should say, I love my church.  There are some very caring, kind, loving people there, and I absolutely love our new minister.  He is so REAL.  He preaches about real-life things that we can use in everyday life.  I am very happy where my family and I are. 

It occurred to me in the last couple of weeks that the church (and I don't mean just my church) still has a problem with women in leadership positions.  Now MY church does have a woman who is the minister of education.  That is awesome.  She does an AMAZING job.  But in the bulletin, she is still referred to as Mrs. Jane Doe instead of Rev. Jane Doe, as the other ministers are termed.  And why is she not to be "revered" (which means to show deep respect)?  I know why.  Because she is a woman.  Isn't that a shocking shame?

I have never been what most would call a feminist.  I stay home with my children, besides the occasional job every now and then.  I have no problems with my role as the homemaker.  I like it.  I don't, however, like seeing gross misinterpretations of the Bible that cause the role of women to be undermined.  Why are women not "deacons" in today's time?  Why are women so often not "ministers of music" or just "ministers"?  It's a thing called TRADITION.

You absolutely cannot take information from the Bible without first looking at the context of the situation.  You have to know the culture in which Jesus and these disciples and followers of Jesus were living.  Here's an idea of what was thought of women at the time of Jesus.  The next few paragraphs are either paraphrased or quoted from Karen Thiesen in a paper she wrote on Jesus and Women:

Women in first-century Israel were defined by their role as bearer of their husband’s offspring and their function as a sexual release for their husband. The worth of women was generally defined by their biological function.  Jewish literature tended to characterize women as unclean, sexual temptresses.

The Talmud, a central text of mainstream Judaism, describes a woman as “a pitcher full of filth with its mouth full of blood, yet all run after her." Since male lust was considered unavoidable due to the seductive nature of women, contact between the sexes was to be avoided. Because women were held responsible for male temptation, they were barred from public life lest they cause a man to sin.

Intellectual initiative on the part of women was not encouraged in Rabbinic Judaism. While study of the Torah was one of man’s highest priorities, it was considered a sin for a woman to do the same. Rabbi Eliezer said, “If any man teaches his daughter Torah it is as though he taught her lechery” and, “It is better that the words of the Law be burned, than that they should be given to a woman." Due to woman’s lack of intellectual ability, she was also barred from the role of witness. Josephus states in his Antiquities that “the testimony of women is not accepted as valid because of the lightheadedness and brashness of the female sex."

So that was the culture.  And to say that we in 2011 need to model our churches after these cultural models is insane to me.  There are other things that the Bible tells us to do that are obviously purely socially influenced that we don't do because we understand that.  For instance, the Bible says that if a women prays with her head uncovered, she dishonors her head (I Cor. 11:5).  We don't make women cover their heads to pray.  That's absurd.  Why would the same person who believes that a woman should be silent in a church not believe that her head should be covered too?  Another example, Paul frequently recognizes slavery as an established institution.  It was.  That doesn't mean that it was right.  Another example, Paul says to greet each other with a holy kiss (II Cor. 13:12).  Do we greet each other with kisses?  No.  Maybe in Europe.  Not here in the USA anyway.  Would these same people think that slavery is just and we should all kiss when we walk into the church building?

It is amazing to me that people disregard the things in the Bible that are obviously a socially-influenced practice, but they still hold on tight to the silent woman thing.  Even though they know that Jesus set new standards for women.  Jesus’ approach to women was in such contrast to that of his culture that we can assume a deliberate modelling of a new way of relating to women.  Jesus' disciples were amazed that he even "talked with the woman" other than a relative (John 4:27), to say nothing of discussing important spiritual issues with this Samaritan woman.  And what a shock it must have been that, in a culture which did not recognize a woman's testimony in a court of law, God allowed women to be the FIRST witnesses of Jesus' resurrection (Luke 24: 1-12; Acts 2: 17-18).

In Hebrews 13:8, we see Jesus in the same yesterday, today and forever.  He doesn't change.  He thinks just as highly of women today.  In Galatians 3:28, Paul writes, "There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female;  for ye are all one in Christ Jesus."

In Romans 16:1, Paul recommends a woman named Phoebe, "a deacon of the church of Cenchreae."  Although church offices had not yet been established, the term "deacon" denotes some sort of leadership position in the church.  I this passage (Romans 16: 1-12), Prisca, Mary, Junia, Tryphaena, and Tryphosa function as co-workers in the churches.  How can they be co-workers if they can't speak in the church?  How can Phoebe fulfill the role of deacon if she can't speak out in the assembly?

Last, let me remind that God never changes, just as the scripture says.  With that in mind, I'll tell you about a few women prophetesses.  There is Miriam (Exo. 15: 20-21), Deborah who "judged Israel at that time" (Judges 4: 4-5), Huldah who communed with priests (II Kings 22: 14), Anna who "spake of God to all that looked for redemption in Jerusalem" (Luke 2: 36-38), and the four daughters of Philip the evangelist (Acts 21: 8-9).

I know the reason for this excluding of women is tradition.  And I'm not sure Jesus would smile on that.  I believe if Jesus Christ was the head of his own church right here in 2011, he would have some female leaders.  I feel very sure of that.  I'm sure it bothered him to see women treated the way they were treated.  He looked at hearts, not gender. 

To be honest, and maybe because I was raised in a church WITH female leaders, I think it's just silly.  Bizarre.  Like when Christian people FREAK OUT over alcohol.  The kind you drink.  Silly.  But that's for another blog.  ;)

Not Gonna Do It

These are some of the things I will NOT do as an old lady...

1.  I will not DRIVE like an old lady.  You know, 10 and 2, back not touching the seat, looking straight ahead and squinting, driving 35 on the interstate, going into the next lane without caring if another car is there. 
2.  I will not listen to old lady music all the time.  When I'm an old lady, the stuff I listen to NOW may be old lady music, but I won't be listening to it.  I will stay current, and like what's popular.  There will be SOMETHING I like.
3.  I will not wear "granny panties."  NOTHING says "I'm a mom" or "I'm a grandma" like the edge of your "Hanes Her Way" sticking out of your mid-rise jeans.  I see people my age doing this.  I just shake my head... for many reasons. 
4.  Speaking of jeans, I will NOT wear jeans with an elastic waistband.  When my daughter was four, I was putting a cute little outfit on her... matching jeans and shirt.  They were toddler jeans though, with the elastic waist.  She said, "MAMA!  I'd rather not wear these.  These are Granny Lou jeans."  'Nuff said.  "I hear ya, sweetheart," and we found something else to wear.  If my waist is too big to wear real jeans, I won't wear jeans.
5.  My waist won't be too big to wear real jeans.
6.  I will NOT wake up at 5:00 a.m.  And I will not go to bed when the sun goes down.  If my body had its way, I would go to sleep at 11 or 12 and sleep until 8.  I've NEVER been an early riser, and I'm not going to change because I'm an old lady. 
7.  I will not make homemade buttermilk biscuits in the mornings.  Maybe this is a Southern old lady thing, but I'm not doing it.  First of all, they are HORRIBLE for you.  They take too long to make, make a mess in the kitchen, and you can buy good frozen ones at Walmart. 
8.  I will not perm my hair.
9.  I will not be too old to have a shot of Patron.
10.  I will not wear a sun visor.
11.  Or a fanny pack.
Here's to hoping... :)

Where's the Line?

I've been thinking a lot lately about what I have grown over the years to really pursue professionally... acting.  My children are old enough now that they can be away from me for short periods of time, and I have an extremely supportive husband and family, and I've even been pursuing some out-of-town work.  In the past, the only professional (aka "paying") jobs have been either doing commercials or industrial training films or mainstage shows at the state's professional regional theatre.... None of which are ever "edgy," to say the least. 
Now, before I continue, I need to state an obvious fact.  When I play a character on stage or in a film, I am obviously playing someone else.  My family gets that.  My husband gets that.  I played a lesbian in a law enforcement film for the attorney general.  I know that sounds funny... I won't go into detail.  It was a training film for policemen on what to look out for in domestic violence situations.   Point is... I am not a lesbian.  I played one.  My friends and family get it.  Over the past year, I have played several characters on stage that required significant amounts of kissing.  Again, everyone gets that.  My hubby and parents and in-laws saw the shows and had no problems with that at all.  But here's my question... When does the line get crossed?
If I am putting myself out there to do other professional work, I know there is going to be a line.  For me, that line would most definitely come before nudity, but where before that?  I guess I'm struggling with the person that is ME and my willingness to play a character who is nothing like me at all and who would actually BOTHER me.  I've never had to think about that before.
I do know that my husband did not like my character in Cabaret.  It bothered him.  In fact, he left the show.  But I'm not sure if that was because of the sexual nature of the show in general or if it was really MY character.  I mean, my character was not a good person, by any stretch, but I never was crude or never used profanity or never danced in the club like the others.  I wore underwear throughout the show and I was a prostitute.  So what?  So I think... If that character bothered him, wasn't that the point?  She was SUPPOSED to bother people.  She was SUPPOSED to be hated.  Is there confusion there? 
I don't use profanity as part of my daily language.  That's not me.  But if I were playing a character who did, I would.  I have no problem separating that.  But on a moral level, is that wrong?  I don't think it is.  No more wrong than a character I play falling in love and kissing throughout a play or film.  And that, in recent years, has happened often.  I don't know.  I'm just trying to find the balance.  I want to do things that my family and children can be proud of.  And there IS a difference between being proud of the character and being proud of the work the actor did to portray that character.  I wouldn't let my children see Cabaret.  I wouldn't even let my 8-year-old see 39 Steps, which I call PG-12.  But I would when they were older because I would want them to understand and appreciate the work involved in portraying a character... especially one that is very different from the actor herself. 
I guess it's a personal decision.  I suppose the only person's reaction I would care about would be my husband's.  I certainly don't care about what anyone else thinks.  And I suppose if he understands and can separate the actor from the work, and my own personal line is not crossed, then all is good. 
I think I need to just find where that line is.  And stick to it.  And I need to talk to him more about the shows he is going to see so he won't feel the need to leave a show like Cabaret.  Or he may choose not to come, which I would understand. 
It's just complicated.  And I want to do the right thing for me professionally and for my family.  It's not all about me.  I do, however, want to grow and challenge myself.  But I also want my family to continue to be supportive.  I could not do this work otherwise.  And I do value and appreciate that more than I could ever express. 

First Half Marathon

This is my blog from the day after my first half marathon, October, 2010. 

I have a million things to do, but I had to go ahead and tell my story or I'll forget....
I was so nervous yesterday, I was shaking. You know, I'm not a runner by talent, that's for sure. I'm not fast.... even when I'm sprinting, I'm not fast. I have feet and ankles and knees that are not exactly great. I have lots of things that work against my training to run, but I definitely wanted to experience this kind of thing, and I was not letting soreness or children or time or whatever keep me from it.

I'm so thankful that Rus had this idea that day over coffee. I wouldn't have do it if he hadn't. And I wouldn't have done it without Ali's partner runs with me. I remember the first long run... the 4 mile one... CRYING while I ran around the Ed Center. LOL! And she ran along side me telling me I'd already passed my 5K point! She was lying.

Yesterday, as we took off, she started running next to me and I told her to go ahead and do her best. She did, and I am SO SO impressed with her 2:13 time! I'm not even sure she's ever run a 5K... since she thought they were going to mail her the race packet. ;)

I checked to see how far I'd run at an early part of the run. I was glad it had already been 3 miles. I was scared I'd look and it would say 1. I looked again at about mile 4 and realized I'd stopped my runkeeper back at mile 3! So I came up on the the mile 5 and restarted it, after stopping for a bathroom break! UGH. I knew I had to run until it said 8 miles.

At about mile 8 or 9, there happened to be nobody around me. It was really kind of strange. There were lots way out in front, and lots way back, but it felt like I was running all alone. I was listening to a CD called "Alive Forever" by Travis Cottrell. My choir did this very concert several years ago and we were given this CD to help us learn it, but I love the CD. I don't remember exactly what song it was I was listening to.... maybe "In Christ Alone"... anyway, I was looking straight ahead and just saw road and beautiful blue sky and trees and felt this wonderful breeze blowing, and thought how awesome all of this is that God created, and like a slide show, I just saw all these pictures flash though my head of things that God has done for me throughout my lifetime. The pictures were random and very clear and really very fast, and there's no way I have time to type out all of them. Hundreds of them. I'm crying right now just thinking about it. It was so surreal. And I was so thankful and felt so loved and taken care of. I'll never forget that.... ever.

I was FINE until about mile 10. I started getting tired. I admit I looked at my runkeeper a LOT during mile 10 and 11. 11 was just really torture. I even walked just a little during 11. When I came on mile 12, I knew I only had a mile to go, so I had a little energy. And then I saw this super energetic girl running in the wrong direction to me. When I realized it was Ali coming to run with me to the finish, I started just crying! But then it started messing my breathing up!!! :) So I had to get it together and I said, "Just to let you know.... I'm going to lose it when we cross the finish." When we saw the finish, she said, "Let's go fast," and we sprinted (as much as I can "sprint") to the finish. And I did lose it a little. :) And then when Lenny finally found me and hugged me, I lost it a little again.  My time was 2:26.  I was pleased.  I was elated, actually.

It was just an amazing morning.