Musings about life, death and goals.

I am 47. I doubted for many years that I would ever reach this age, perhaps because I had no desire to. My teens were extraordinarily difficult years, and somehow I held on to a will to survive. I don't care to elaborate on it right now. It seems very large to me - but it may be trivial to friends who have been through worse.

At some point I actually started setting goals for myself, believing that I had worth, and became happy about living. I hold on dearly to that optimism to this day and hope that I infect people around me with it.

I have studied the "laws of attraction" and I don't care who thinks it's a bunch of hooey, I am a personal testament to the fact that when you harbor negative thoughts - you draw negative things to you. When you focus on positive things, which is a constant struggle, you draw positive things to you. I believe this with my whole heart. At the very least - I am happy, and I hope that I share my happiness with others. (I am not perfect, my husband will tell you I have more than my share of down moments.)

But even with optimism - you get smacked down.

In the past couple of weeks - two friends of mine have lost people dear to them much too young. One was 44, the brother of a friend who recently lost his job and is struggling to find a way to support his family. Another was 36 and running a triathlon when he died on the course from a blood clot. Both leave behind families with young kids. I join the masses wondering "why them?" There are no answers.

I have goals. Completely random goals. I guess you could call these my "bucket list." I've had some for years, and other adapt to the changes in my life. But here are a few:

- Speak Spanish fluently. To a point where I dream in Spanish. I've wanted this since High School.

- To travel. (This was a goal before I became a meeting planner and I got what I asked for. I'm more specific now like: To travel FOR LEISURE to Italy, Russia, Spain, etc. I'm tired of traveling for work.)

- To run in a 5k. I've had this one for a while and I've tried running off and on for at least 30 years, but it has always been a ridiculously hard thing to do. My legs hurt beyond belief and I can't breathe. Fast forward to last year and surprise! I finally learn that I need orthotics for my crazy high arches, I've been wearing shoes too small, and I have asthma. Why on earth it took me 20 - 30 years to figure this out, I can't explain. But I finally set a goal to run one this Fall and I've started running. I'm up to 2 miles and now it's more the arthritis in my knees slowing me down than anything else. But I got knee braces and I refuse to stop.

But now the ante has been upped. When the triathlete I mentioned above died, a bunch of local Georgia folks have decided to participate in the Savannah Rock and Roll Marathon and Half-marathon in his honor. So I decided - if I can do 3.2 miles, I can do 13.1. Right? RIGHT? Oh shit. I can do this. RIGHT?

I ran almost two miles today. Knees bugging me. But I'm going to do this. Show me some support ok? This is not going to be easy.