My Cat Angel -Four Pounds of Fur but a Ton of Love, Laughter, and Life

 Part Three – Saying Goodbye to Angel

 

If you haven’t figured it out by reading my previous two blogs about my cat. I am a softy and a bit of a sap when it comes to my cats. What might surprise you is that originally I did not want cats. I told my wife that I was a dog person. These three cats I rave about were the only cats I ever had.  Though I know I will have others because of them.

Having cats is different than having dogs. In the relationship between human and feline it is the cat the determines the rules for affection and love. Some cats refuse to lay on your lap while others get angry when you get up. Some cats you can pick up and cuddle others squirm the minute you begin lifting them up. I abided by the rules for all three cats though Angel was a little different. She demanded that you pay attention to her and did not take no for an answer no matter how busy you were. So, I naturally relented to her wishes. Which led to me becoming a cat caregiver.

It was not very long after Midnight’s death that Angel began to age quickly. She seemed to go from a frisky playful cat to an old and slow cat in months. She would walk very slowly and was not nimble at all, especially for a cat. She also would follow us closely in the kitchen. We ran into her often and just brushing her with our legs would knock her over.

We took her to the vet, and she had a growth in her body but at her age there really was little that could be done. What we did do however was get some high protein food and supplements to give her strength. She was also much smaller now. She was only four pounds, she used to be six pounds. She needed calories. We also had thyroid medicine to give her. The main thing was she was not in any pain just weak.

My morning routine was now set. First, I would cuddle with her for a while. Then I would feed her regular food sprinkled with a protein supplement. A short time later give her thyroid medicine and some treats. Then give her what I called her cat Ensure. A high protein drink. If she was still hungry then feed her some more. Then go for my run.

That was just the morning routine, the same held true for the evening. In the overnight I would check on her and she would sometimes want to cuddle with me and other times she wanted to eat. While her appetite was great, and she was drinking water and having good poops there was a major issue. She would rarely pee in the litter box and the other duty we all hated was cleaning up after her. We had closed off most of the house to her. First, we didn’t want her peeing on the carpet and also she was often getting her claws caught on the carpet stairs.

I was preparing for her passing but doing all I could to keep her alive. I called our house, a feline hospice unit. When I purchased her various foods and supplements, I only purchased a couple of weeks’ worth because I knew she was getting close to the end. This started around the Christmas of 2023. Yet when Christmas of 2024 came and passed my temporary efforts to make her comfortable were working extremely well. I said she was like former President Jimmy Carter who was in hospice for years. Even our vet was amazed that she was still alive.

This constant care for her for over a year predictably drew us even closer. It also made it harder for me to accept the inevitable. This spunky little cat might live forever.

Yet forever came. As we were sitting in our living room with me in my recliner, I had noticed the last two days that Angel was much weaker than normal. The food perked her up but not for very long. I joked with my wife that when she fell asleep on me that she may pee on me because she had little strength. That night I was unfortunately proven right. First, we fell asleep together watching television. When I woke, I noticed I was a little wet. She had peed on me! She was very weak. I carried her with me to the recliner and she and I fell asleep again. I figured I was safe because she had already peed. I noticed that she felt differently on my body. Her body was completely limp. It was if all the muscles in her body were gone. At about 5am I put my hand down on the side of the chair and on the chair covering and it was wet. She had peed again! Luckily missing me but getting the side of the chair covers and the floor. I quickly got up and took the cover off. Noticing that it was mostly on the floor. Cleaned it up and put the chair cover in the wash.

Angel slowly walked around getting a drink of water but then started to just stand and stare. Eventually she stumbled into the litter box to do her duty. I knew the end was near and decided that I would call the vet that day. I was in the recliner hoping she would come to me for some cuddles even though she had slept with me the whole night. Then she fell down and let out a loud meow and was dead. I had never watched a natural death before but knew what it was immediately. It was 6AM and everyone else was asleep. I kissed her and thanked her for being our cat. I found a shoebox and placed her inside it.

I had time to reflect on my Angel because no one else was around. She was the last reminder of my kid’s childhood. We may have all changed but with Angel we had remained the same and treated her the same as when we were younger.

I texted my daughter about Angel and when Patty and Evan came down, we had a good cry. When my cell phone rang and I saw it was my daughter, Lisa, the tears swelled up in my eyes and I could barely get out the words “hello”. We all cried again. Being expected doesn’t make it easier.

When I came down the stairs the next morning, the house felt empty. There was no little white head popping up to greet me. I had plenty of time because there was no cat to take care of. I was lost without my cat duties going through the morning without joy.

That night we started a fire in our fireplace. Which the cats always enjoyed. We were now catless. We were still in shock. My wife said “Angel won the cat lottery when she met you.” Insinuating that her life was much better because of that.

I thought of that fateful day when I switched my lunch plans and Angel ended up in my arms. Of how much we all enjoyed her. I couldn’t imagine the last eighteen years without her. “No” I said, “We won the cat lottery not her.”

My Cat Angel -Four Pounds of Fur but a Ton of Love, Laughter, and Life

Part Two – Living with Angel

 

While Angel was the smallest of our cats, she was the one that was impossible to ignore. That was because she refused to have the humans ignore her.

Our other two cats Midnight and Sterling tolerated Angel but were not enamored with her, especially Midnight who was the “Queen” as we called her and liked to have a quiet life. Angel, was everywhere, always causing mischief. Sterling stood his ground with her, so it was a standoff.

Angel’s forte was not in cultivating feline relationships but in cultivating human relationships. All our family and friends knew Angel because she was part of every family party or a friend’s visit. She would walk around and jump on laps or curl up to our friends and cuddle whether they were cat people or not. Some guests felt so honored that a strange cat would find them so special and give them attention. They thought that Angel thought that they were special. We did not have the heart to tell them that she did that with all our guests and that you were no more special than anyone else in her eyes. Yet I can’t argue that by her doing that she made our guests feel special.

Even though I saw her make everyone believe that they were special because she chose to snuggle with them, even if it was not so and she was just using them. While I was onto her game it does not mean that I was not immune to her charm.  One of our evening routines was that she would snuggle in cozy with my wife on the couch, while my wife read her book or Kindle. When I entered the room and sat in the recliner across the room Angel would pop up her sleepy head and look longingly at me. My wife would say sarcastically “Oh your boyfriend is here. Now you are going to leave me!” Which Angel would promptly do, sometimes in a sleepy stupor, and she looked drunk walking over and jumping on my lap. I think she knew I was one who was easily taken in and would do anything if she showed me affection.  Which admittedly is completely true. She was training me to be her servant and succeeding. Proof of that will come in the following blog.

She was so present with company that sometimes people thought she was our only cat. They would ask “You have other cats too?” They couldn’t remember their names, however. Angel, though, was easy to remember.

Angel had a way of making us all laugh even when what she was doing was wrong. I would find her sleeping in weird positions and places. Once with her head between both legs in her butt.  Other times with her head plopped straight down in front of her. Often in the laundry basket. We had more pictures of her in strange positions than I can count. At the end of the day, we would exchange photos of what Angel was doing.

It should be mentioned that one of her weird sleeping spots caused me my first broken bone in my life. In the early morning hours, one day I was carrying my suit with me down the stairs from the bedroom in the dark. I did not want to wake others by turning on the light. In any case as I walked down the stairs I stepped on Angel and then tumbled down the stairs, breaking a bone in my hand. I almost got mad at her.

Yet when you were down Angel also had the instinct to know when to cuddle with you. This is one reason pet owners love their cats or dogs. When other people are causing you pain, you know your pet is dependable and will love you. While Midnight and Sterling did this too Angel was content to spend hours with you. A truer friend could not be found.

Yet she was mischievous. If there was going to be a cat that jumped on the dining room table for a bite of roasted chicken, it was Angel. If there was a cat that would jump into the Christmas Tree, it was Angel. If there was a cat that would annoy the other cats it was Angel. We found ourselves yelling Angel’s name more than all the other cats and human names combined. She was the annoying little brother who created chaos. Yet we all secretly loved her even more for that crazy personality.

Angel had a bad habit of never retracting her claws. So, when she jumped on your lap in the summer it could be painful. During COVID I was doing a remote interview with the governor of New Jersey. While I had a shirt and tie on for the camera, I was wearing shorts since it was the summer. Angel jumped on me during that interview and it took all the composure I could muster not to wince. Later in her life we would find her claws stuck on the carpeting going to the second floor or hanging off the couch with her claws stuck on the couch covering.

We all depended more on Angel after Sterling passed. We now had two opposite cats, Midnight who was a cat happy to be left alone with her human family and very solitary and Angel who to be frank was a diva.

Yet that diva showed us all that she was not all about herself. When Midnight started to deteriorate, Angel surprised us. You see they had always just tolerated each other. Yet Angel seemed to sense that Midnight was nearing the end. All of a sudden, we saw her sleeping next to Midnight. We were shocked but it did our hearts good. Midnight was our first pet and very special to us. I have written about my love for Midnight as well. (Sorry Sterling but I was not writing my thoughts when you were with us.)

Angel’s small change of affection towards Midnight made her death easier for us. She was instinctively helping us deal with her death.

Yet after Midnight passed, I saw a change in Angel. She was no longer a frisky cat with a pep in her step. She was an older cat who was slowing down. I realized that she was no longer young and was seventeen years old.  Having a young cat or dog is different than having a geriatric pet. More would be demanded of us to repay her for all the love she had shown us.

Part 3 – Saying Goodbye to Angel

My Cat Angel -Four Pounds of Fur but a Ton of Love, Laughter and Life

 Part One – Finding Angel

Sometimes in life a small, seemingly insignificant decision can change your life’s trajectory.

That happened to me and my family. It was lunch time, and I left our office building in Trenton and headed to my car. I was going to go to a restaurant across the river in Pennsylvania for lunch. The minute I got outside the warm spring-like weather hit me. You know how the first really warm day of March feels after months of winter weather. Just as I was about to open my car door I stopped and turned away from my car. I decided to enjoy the weather by walking a few blocks to get a sandwich at a local deli called Lucy’s. A fateful decision.

As I was walking down the sidewalk,  I could see in the distance, a woman and a boy with a large white dog standing in front of some run-down townhouses. I thought the woman had a white puppy in her arms, but when I got closer, I saw that the white puppy was actually a white kitten. They seemed to be a bit upset. I greeted them pleasantly when the woman said “This cat just fell out of this window. I need to check to see if anyone is there. Could you hold her while I check?”  I replied “Sure.”

She quickly put the kitten in my arms and went inside. The second I held this gentle kitten in my arms, my heart melted. Our fates together were sealed when the woman said the apartment was vacant. She couldn’t keep the cat. Just as we were discussing what to do a man walks by and says to the white kitten “Hi little guy. I hope you are okay.” He then told us he was going to give the cat to the pound but they wanted $5 and he didn’t have it. As I looked at this cat I thought of my daughter Lisa. If I told her the story of this kitten and mentioned that I had just left her in the streets Lisa would have been furious at me. Quickly I told the woman I would take her. I asked her if she could hold her for one day so I could get my pet carrier.

When I got home that evening I told my wife the story. She was okay with me bringing her home but in no uncertain terms we were not keeping her. We already had two cats and that was more than enough. It so happened that a woman at work said if we didn’t keep her than she would take her. Great, I had saved her and found her a great home.

The next day I picked up the kitten. I was not really sure whether she was a kitten or cat as she was  so small. As it so happens, I did not need the pet carrier.  As I carried her to my car she snuggled with me. She laid curled up on my lap for the entire hour and a half drive except for one time when she got up and walked to the back seat and then came back to my lap. Her willingness to snuggle was winning me over. While we had two cats that we loved neither one was a lap cat. Her ability to frustrate me also came because when I looked in the back of my car I could see three little poop turds on the floor. I was not mad but just laughed. That was also the beginning of her getting away with almost anything with me.

My kids who were in elementary school at the time, embraced her quickly, even though they knew she was only staying with us temporarily. The new kitten would stay in their rooms because we did not want to introduce her to the other cats.

We needed to take her to our vet for a check up. You name it, she had it, including mites and fleas. The vet was examining her and mentioned that the cat might be pregnant. My wife looked at me and said with disdain “Pregnant!”  I said “Don’t look at me. It’s not like I’m the father.” The vet laughed. It turns out she wasn’t. The vet estimated that she was around ten months old.

We also had to name her. A big decision. I wanted to call her Lucy since that was name of the deli I was going to when I found her. While I thought it was a great idea, my kids shot it down. They settled on Angel. Because of her white fur and gentle affection, it seemed appropriate. Later when she was healthy and settled in, we saw her more mischievous side and it seemed like a less suitable name.

Yet the day was coming that we would have to give her away. I wanted to keep her but my wife was adamant, so I remained silent. I am a softy, and I found her, so my connection was strong. My son Evan, however, had fallen in love with her. He broke down in tears when my wife said that we would have to give her up and that she would have a good home. My wife liked the bond that they had formed and came to me. “Is having three cats too many?” I had my opening. “No” I said. “It will be okay and she is good for Evan.” That sealed the deal.

There was an adjustment period for Angel. Mostly around food. She had been on her own and food was scarce so when we put the food out, she attacked it and ate so fast that sometimes she got sick. We had to find ways to slow her down. Which we eventually did.

One of our other cats, Midnight, was not entirely thrilled with our decision to keep this energetic cat, she was more solitary anyway and adjusted by keeping her distance.  While we had three cats if someone visited they thought we only had one – Angel. The other two, Midnight and Sterling scrambled for cover when someone rang the doorbell or entered the house. Angel would get excited and greet the guests as if it was obvious to all that they had come to see her.

Our family life would never be the same. We had a new member of the family, and that new member would often take center stage at our house.

See Part two – Living with Angel

Racing Not to Win

I was doing my normal morning run when I saw another runner I know, and we stopped running and began chatting. He is about my age, but I got to know him because I knew his son, Gray. I said, “I will be running a race with your son.” He said, “How long?” I said “50k” He replied “Wow”.  I later said he could join us, but he said that was too long. Even though when I talked about doing a shorter distance, he was still a definite no.  Eventually he said I am not very competitive. I don’t race. I have been running for fifty years and maybe did two or three races.”  I was stunned but I respect his philosophy. He just likes running and believe me if I had to choose to only do races or just daily runs I would definitely choose just the daily runs. I did mention to him that “I don’t race to win but I like races to see new places and meet people.”

While I like to race, I have seen people who are the opposite of my friend who are so dialed in to place in the top three or some other time goal, that it borders on being obsessive. Marathoners are often that way, rating each other by the time whether it is three or four hours. I am definitely not that way. I don’t remember what my times are for any of my races.

Don’t get me wrong, I am competitive, but my competition is with myself not others. You see I have the luxury of being in my mid-sixties so I know I can’t win against the much younger runners. So, while I push myself to my limits, I have no anxiety over where I finish.

Now don’t get me wrong I am not laissez faire about the races. If I hear footsteps behind me, I instinctively pick up my pace. If I see a runner in front of me that I think I can pass I make that a goal. Yet I know that I will get passed by other runners and that I will pass others. I am however running faster than on my normal morning runs. The other runners motivate me to go faster and be my best.

The other thing I like about races is to add to what I said to my friend. I love running in new places, especially trail races. I have explored so many parks in New Jersey that I would not have visited without entering the race. I now have entered trail races in other states and have thoroughly enjoyed those runs as well. Sometimes I know that the terrain will be difficult which only makes it more attractive as a race because it will push me even more. In those races even though I am well behind the leaders I feel like I share in the accomplishment of just finishing.

The other reason I race is just the vibe of a race.  Almost all races, whether they are a road race, or a trail race are a festive scene. Runners a very supportive of each other. For most of us it really is not about winning but doing our best.  On a couple of occasions, I have slowed down my pace to help another runner get to the finish line. I finished much further back than I normally would have but I made a friend instead. A great trade off.

A short while later I was at that race with Gray and another friend Dan. Both are young enough to be my sons. It was my first race in a couple of months, and I was returning to that race scene vibe. It would be a very difficult 50k. It was the Febapple Frozen Fifty by the NJ Trail Series. The trails were almost completely ice.  I strapped on my Yaktrax and put my brand-new trekking poles in my backpack in case I needed them. I have never used them before, but the icy conditions made me think they may help.

As if Gray’s dad had somehow put a spell on this race to turn it into a run, the race director announced that his timing system was not working and that he could not give us times. He followed that up by saying the trail conditions were bad and that if anyone wanted to, they could drop down to a shorter distance. For us that meant a twenty miler or even a ten miler.

It was a good thing that I was not racing to win because that first ten-mile loop went as bad as any I had ever had. Not even a mile into the run I took a spill, and my trekking poles flew out of my pack, and it took quite a bit of time to take off my pack and readjust everything. Then in a series of mishaps both of my shoelaces came loose and needed to be retied. My one Yaktrax broke. I missed a turn and wasted time. I again fell hard. This time, setting off an alarm in my Garmin sending for help. Who it was sending a message to I had no idea because I didn’t even know I had that feature. I realized a little later that the alarm had also stopped my GPS so I had no idea how far I had gone.

It was at this point I said to myself “This is not my day maybe I will drop down.” Yet I decided to continue on. I had a long run at the Grand Canyon coming up and I needed to persevere. As I came to the aid station to start my last five miles there was my friend Dan. It was a welcome sight. A friendly face when you are struggling always helps. Gray, who is much faster than either one of us, was six miles ahead and had finished already.  Dan and I would do the last five miles together. I think he was just as happy as I was to have someone alongside him to help get through this difficult race.

It wasn’t pretty but we finished. Our time was at least an hour and a half slower than it would have been under normal conditions. The icy terrain had really tested us. I had overcome all my gear issues and falls. I had almost decided to quit. In reality, I was not really running but slogging up and down icy trails. I know I said that I don’t race to win but somehow this finish made me feel like a winner. I had persevered. That is another reason I like racing, you can feel like a winner even when you don’t win. Maybe I do race to win.

  

Running Back to my Roots

Where one grows up as a child is a place that even if you try to forget, is always with you. You may not return to your childhood home, but it is in your memory bank sometimes influencing all your decisions. We can try and convince ourselves that we are adults moving forward with our lives and not the awkward kid who was so unsure of themselves and the decisions that they made. Yet that awkward kid still looms somewhat, at least that is true for me.  I am a runner and can outrun most people in a run. Yet I cannot outrun my past. I am running in front of my past, but I can hear and feel the footsteps behind me like one does in a race when you feel another runner behind you. Except unlike a runner in a race the past never pulls in front or falls completely back. It is a constant companion.

My 97-year-old mom was not in great health, and I needed to stay with her for a few days. While I knew that I would have to curtail my running, I did not want to stop running for those days either. When traveling I love running in a new location I have written about this before in my blog about Running in Strange Places. Yet this would be the strangest place even if it was very familiar. Before I ran, I had been watching the news reports of the devastating fires in Los Angeles County, California. More than a couple of reporters mentioned that this was a neighborhood where they grew up, but it was now nothing but rubble.  This fire was more personal. As if part of their youth was gone. This motivated me to look at this run as an opportunity to see my roots.

I spent the first 39 years of my life in the town of Lincoln Park and was very involved in the community having served as a council person and on the planning board as well. So, I was more than aware of how the community has changed over time. However, when you traverse a place on foot for miles you get a different feel.

On this run while I noticed the buildings that had changed over time when I was running it was not about the buildings as it was about the people I had known in my youth. I was running by homes and roads that I had walked to school on or rode my bike to a baseball game on. While I will mention a few names, believe me every turn brought an old memory and family. It was a slew of people.

At first it was the buildings I noticed as I ran up Skyline Drive passing by the townhomes that I sat on the planning board when they were approved. I noticed that the sidewalks and roads were no longer newer and that those new developments were well over 30 years old. I ran by my old elementary school which was completely renovated and expanded. The lyrics of the school song started popping into my head “Pinebrook, Pinebrook - Every time I open up a book, whether here or on vacation I thank you for my education.” I can’t believe that I remember that.

However, as I ran past the school through the houses nearby, I remembered the last names of those kids in elementary school Nowacki, Tanner, and Zammit. Then I headed down the school path towards the development I grew up in. It was called Ernstville at one time. I am probably the only person left who knows that. The houses were all different colors and landscaped differently from when I roamed the area. I ran by the Miller’s home as well as the Smith’s. I saw my friend Jimmy DelGuidice’s home. I was not seeing the house as they are now but going back in time. The Millers were dark brown, the Smith’s dark green, and my friend Jimmy’s house was light green.

Before I got to my parent’s old house, I ran by what used to be a sandlot where all the boys in the neighborhood played baseball and football. This is where I hit my first home run which also broke a window of a house. I was proud and aghast at the same time. Now it is a playground with slides and tubes. Nowadays, kids don’t do sports on their own, it is all youth leagues. We, however, were like the kids in the movie Sandlot. We played on this lot like those kids no set teams just dividing up the kids who came into what we thought would be equal teams.

I could barely recognize my parent’s yard as I ran by. I noticed some houses were no longer there. The area was in a flood zone and the state sometimes bought the owners’ home and razed it, then left the lot vacant. On my way back I had extra time, so I went up a dead end to check on my friend Sam Bundz’s home. I used to carpool with him to football practice in high school. To my shock I could not remember which house was his. They were all the same design and the same color.

The next day I took a different route to another part of town. While I was in college I worked at a local pharmacy and did deliveries all over the area. I used to know the area better than modern day GPS. I went down Ryerson Road and couldn’t remember many of the side streets. I went into the Lyn Park section and thought of all my high school friends from this section. Then I headed back and around the small neighborhood by my old middle school, Chapel Hill.  I ran pass a house and I remembered that it was Dorna Johnson’s. I had a crush on her in eighth grade but was too chicken to ask her out.

When I left my mom’s, I reflected not only on my run but the memories that it had stirred within me. They were for the most part very positive memories. Yet it was a time that is in the past and of another era. This generation would probably find it more amusing than important and our lifestyle close to archaic. While the run was filled with nostalgia it felt very strange.

The next day I was home and did my early morning run in my neighborhood. It felt so comfortable. I was running in the present, not in the past.  I realized that this is now my home with a new set of memories. All those names and people who I remembered on the run are like me. They too have new homes and memories. Though we have shared roots in Lincoln Park.

 

 

 

 

O Christmas Tree

The Christmas tree is a fascinating holiday decoration to me. I have been in homes in which the tree is a work of art. As if Martha Stewart herself had decorated it. It can have a theme such as Victorian, Scandinavian, rustic or something else with taste. So beautiful and elegant that it takes your breath away. My family tree unfortunately is not that way. The ornaments do not match. Some are wooden, some are round glass, some flat metal, some are homemade. One year even the lights did not match. Martha Stewart would turn her head aghast, probably trying to keep her last meal down as if the sushi she ate was a week old.

Yet despite the mismatched ornaments that seem to have no connection to any theme, I love the tree, and I love the process of bringing the ornaments down from the attic and searching through the boxes for a special ornament just as much. No, our tree does not have a theme, but it tells a story. The boxes of ornaments are a time capsule of a family. To a certain degree it is a time capsule of a family growing together. It also tells the story of the individuals.

My daughter still puts up her Madeline and American Girl ornaments though she has not picked up those books or watched a video in years. My son has a Buzz Lightyear and Tigger ornament though like my daughter he has not watched a video in eons. We have several ornaments of the cats they grew up with, which must be put up. We also have stockings for the cats even though two of them have passed. They both have their musical instrument ornaments. My daughter her flute and my son his saxophone and drums.

I of course have several running ornaments as well as a Spartan and Tough Mudder ornaments. I also have a NY Mets ornament which also must be put up. My wife, because someone has to have class in the household, has a Swarovski and Portmeirion ornaments, but she only puts one up of each. She also loves the ornaments the kids made in first grade over two decades ago. When we first got married, she insisted that the top of the tree not be adorned with a star or an angel but Max Headroom.  Somewhere over time old Max got lost. I miss him.

We also got in the habit of buying Christmas ornaments from places we traveled too. It is adorned with loons and moose from Maine. Ornaments from California, Zion National Park, New York State and Ireland. I was sad when I saw our ornament from Waynesville, North Carolina. We vacationed there and Asheville a while ago and now I was sure that many places we visited were possibly destroyed by Hurricane Helene. It was a lovely trip, and we sent a donation immediately following the storm.

While we have a few community ornaments each family member has their own stock. We each take our own ornaments and decide where to place them on the tree. For some reason it would be a social faux pas to put up an ornament identified with another family member. One year my daughter could not make it home until a couple of days before Christmas. We left the box with her ornaments out until she came home to put them up herself. It seemed the tree was incomplete until she did that.

Since over time we have traveled to more places, maybe took on new interests or hobbies, we have more ornaments than can fit on one tree. We have to sift through them to decide which ones make the cut. There are some that we have not put on the tree in years, but we still take them out and look at them. It is a good memory that we hold in our hand and then place back in the box. Just looking at all the ornaments brings back a flood of good remembrances. We may never place some of those ornaments on a future tree, but we keep them stored because they are a great recollection.

I think that is what I like best about our tree. It is adorned with memories and makes me reflect on our lives together. No matter how hectic life is, and it can get very hectic during the holiday season, that tree brings back great memories and reminds me of what is important in life.

On the night we decorate the tree, Christmas music plays in the background. We will start a fire in the fireplace. At one end of the room is the tree and the other a crackling fire. My wife and I share a glass of wine and reminisce. Memories are floating all around us.

I love the living room with the tree even though it makes the room seem small. From my chair I have the best view of it. I will sometimes walk close to it and examine the ornaments and to relive a memory.

Yes, if Martha Stewart came in, she would be aghast at the artistic quality. She does not, however, see what I see. It is a family story, an ever-evolving novel. Next year I know that we will somehow gather a new ornament or two and add a chapter to the novel. Now that I really think about it, she may not be aghast, she may be jealous. Eat your heart out Martha.

Merry Christmas.

 

 

 

Finding the Right Pace in Life Via Running

My wife came home from work the other day and when she saw me, she said “What a day at work. I can’t do anything right now. Let me decompress for a few minutes.” I understood and continued preparing dinner. I know the feeling, because I too have come home after a long ride home and done the exact same thing. While it is not perfect, I have found that I am less stressed out since I became an avid runner. Because in running I have learned the importance of “pacing”.

Finding the right pace for a trail or road race takes a little preparation and experience it is usually something most experienced runners do attain. In fact, finding the right pace may be the most important factor in a good race.  While preparing for a race I study the course and look at the weather and plan everything accordingly.  I can usually find my pace despite the obstacles and the environment and at the end of a race I feel great because everything went as my father used to say went “According to Hoyle.” For some reason he never told me who “Hoyle” was and why he was the authority on how things should go.

I must admit, however, finding the right pace in life has been much more difficult.  Like running races, life has obstacles and an environment that will challenge you and suck your energy.  Unlike running races, however, you can’t study a map or check your sports watch to make sure your pace is correct.

For much of my life, like many people, my life has vacillated between my personal/family life and my work/professional life, and usually not very smoothly.  Both have challenges and obstacles that test you and often they seem to work against each other.  For example, you may have a major work assignment and event that occurs at the same time as your daughter’s concert. Even now that my kids are older there are always obligations we must face, like an aging parent.

I have said to my work colleagues “that I can be a great employee and a great father.  I am just not sure I can do both at the same time.”

My wife and I are not unusual in that there are days that we come home from work and just plop down in a chair, mentally exhausted.  I am even more fatigued than after a race.  A race is usually more a physical exhaustion not a mental or emotional one. The problem with mental exhaustion is that even though you are sitting down your brain is still racing.

My dilemma was that my pace was wrong.  I was sprinting in both spheres of my life leaving me exhausted at times. 

So, what made me think that by adding one more thing like running and seriously getting in shape, would help my pace in life? Afterall if you feel like you have no time, why add one more thing to do in the day? I still don’t know why, but I did try it. I also do know that it has helped. Not only that but I have taken a few lessons I learned running with me in everyday life.

The first way it helped me find my pace in life was that being a runner I found I had more energy.  I noticed it at home when I had to do yard work and had home chores like raking leaves or shoveling snow. I could do it without any aches or pains.  At work my job has some long hours and I usually need to be high energy to be effective, so the additional energy helped.

Secondly, running centered me and made me feel better about myself.  You really can’t help others if you are not in a good frame of mind yourself and for me running did that.  We all need some type of mindfulness for some it is yoga or meditation, for me it is running. Find what centers you.

Thirdly, it forced me to organize my time and commitments. If I was going to commit to 45 minutes, one hour, or even two hours of running every day how would I spend the rest of my time whether at work or home?  I mentally organized my day making sure I accomplished everything I needed to do.

While I said earlier, unlike running a race, in life you don’t have a sports watch that you can check to see your pace and distance, you do however have an internal body clock that you can check.  This is something I have learned to hone via running.  It is being mindful and attuned to your body’s workings.  I can tell by my breathing and the feel of my legs how I am doing on the trail.  I now take this same mindfulness to work and home.  There are days I put in long hours at work, and I can feel it in my mind that I am racing too fast and need to slow down.

The other lesson I have learned that really helps both on the trail but even more in life is a sense of humor.  Taking life too seriously is stressful.  People don’t want to be around others who view life so seriously, it is mentally draining.  Sometimes at work you have no choice but to work with people who are negative, and I find a sense of humor helps negate that person.  In trail races when we get to an extremely rugged section whether it is rocky or muddy and another runner is nearby, I always crack a joke.  It is very difficult to finish a long race, especially ultra marathons if you are mentally down for long periods of time you almost must laugh at the pain. I would even say that having the right mental framework is just as essential in an ultra as being physically ready. In life that right mental framework is even more essential.

Finally, I have learned on the trails that I can only run at my pace, not someone else’s.  The runners vary in age and ability, so it is better to be in sync with your own pace and not get too excited when you pass someone or to down when they pass you.  You must learn to sometimes to shut out those other runners and not compare yourself to them. At work and in life sometimes, you must do the same thing and not get pulled into other people’s drama. Don’t compare your car, home, or career to someone else’s. For some reason there always seems to be someone whose life seems better than yours.

Live your own life and if you find the right pace it will be a good one.