Living Happily Ever After

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Gotta Keep Your Feet Moving

I’ve felt a kinship with Arnold Schwarzenegger for quite some time. Since the early 1990s, to be exact.

It began years ago. I was in downtown Denver, at an Eddie Bauer store, looking at a jacket.  A well-meaning young, male salesclerk approached and told me I should buy that jacket, that “The Arnold” was in town and had tried it on just hours before. (Hint: Never tell a woman THAT if you want to make a sale!) Needless to say, I left the jacket as it hung. But knowing I had touched something Arnold Schwarzenegger had, bonded us. At least from my perspective.

So I don’t take his wisdom lightly. Here’s some:

“What we face may look insurmountable. But I learned something from all those years of training and competing. I learned something from all those sets and reps when I didn’t think I could lift another ounce of weight. What I learned is that we are always stronger than we know.” (Arnold Schwarzenegger)

Isn’t that the truth?

When I was 9 years old, my best friend Rachel Cox, got it in her mind that we were going to walk 20 miles together and raise money in a March of Dimes walkathon. I got on my bicycle and pedaled all over the rural roads of Grand Jct., CO, asking strangers to sponsor me in my walk.

Things were safer in the 70s, but still not without their hazzards.

At one house, a giant and ferocious dog chased me down the driveway. I screamed and ran, panic stricken and crying. Thankfully, the homeowner came, rescued me, and sponsored me–probably feeling bad for the little girl with the racing heart, bawling in the driveway.

I survived the sponsorship part of the walkathon. Finally the day came to walk 20 miles.

My parents were out of town. They told me (later, and for the rest of my life) they figured I’d walk a mile or two and go home so they didn’t change their travel plan and just arranged a ride for me to the starting point where I met my friend. I was completely unprepared for the walk by today’s standards. I wore normal school clothes, Keds, I didn’t bring any water or food (kids don’t always plan for the essentials–they’d never even crossed my mind, actually), I didn’t have sunscreen, and while most walkers had adult supervision, Rachel and I were on our own.

At mile one, Rachel quit. For some reason, I carried on alone. (I was pretty shy back then, to this day I’m not sure how I dared continue on by myself.) It may have had something to do with the fact that I wasn’t tired, or maybe I was motivated by the pictures of the poster children I was trying to help, or maybe it was all I’d gone through getting sponsors–not just the dog attack, but even talking to people I didn’t know and asking them to help me; I hated that part of it! Or maybe I just wanted to see if I could do it.

So I kept walking.

I didn’t really know what I was doing or where I was going, but I followed the way marked by cardboard arrows, got my card stamped at each mile’s checkpoint, and watched the stream of walkers lessen until I was mostly alone and felt even more alone knowing my parents were out of town. I wasn’t always sure where to go. Thankfully, I didn’t get lost. I felt a little like I was blazing my own trail and I was a little afraid, but I carried on most of the day.

By late afternoon, an unfortunate thing happened. The walkathon route went right past my neighborhood–just before mile 18–and I gave in to the lure and safety of home. I detoured through Paradise Hills to my house and quit, without even getting my card stamped at mile 18 and getting credit for that last mile I walked.

My feet were killing me.

My house was quiet.

But I had accomplished something.

When my parents arrived home that evening and found out what I had achieved all by myself, they were dumbfounded. They took me to dinner to celebrate–my dad carried me to and from the car and into the restaurant so I wouldn’t have to walk any more that day. They told everyone what I had done.

The prospect of walking 20 miles, by myself, in the 4th grade seemed incomprehensible. But I learned something that day. When I thought I couldn’t go the distance, I did. When I was alone, and afraid, I carried on anyway. And in the end, I learned I was stronger and more capable than I’d ever imagined.

That’s sort of how last year was for me. I found myself facing a challenge so huge I didn’t know how I’d go the distance. I was alone, afraid, but I carried on anyway. There weren’t signs showing me the way this time, I had to rely on inspiration, common sense, the advice of good friends, absolute faith and sometimes, pure endurance.

And in the end, I learned I was stronger and more capable than I’d ever imagined. And I accomplished something I wasn’t always sure would be possible: a new life; happiness and joy out of the disastrous ruination and ashes of my former life.

The unexpected life is its own walkathon. But if you just keep putting one foot in front of the other, even when your feet (and your heart) hurt, eventually you’ll accomplish something great.

“I always tell my kids if you lay down, people will step over you. But if you keep scrambling, if you keep going, someone will always, always give you a hand. Always. But you gotta keep dancing, you gotta keep your feet moving.” (Morgan Freeman)

Keep your feet moving.

The unexpected life.

Bachelor #28: “Old” Blue Eyes

“Blue eyes say, Love me or I die; black eyes say, Love me or I kill thee.” (Spanish Proverb)

I’ve never been a big “eyes” person. I think I was married to my former spouse before I noticed his eye color. But I noticed Bachelor #28′s beautiful blue eyes the moment I met him. With his dark hair, perfect white teeth and huge smile, you couldn’t miss them!

Bachelor #28 was a widower with one son. He was an absolutely nice, normal, friendly, outgoing, loving, wonderful man. He was also funny, successful, 6’5,” and handsome–everything I was looking for in lots of ways, especially the shallow ones! But we were different at the core; in our religious beliefs.

I was in over my head with Bachelor #28 for entirely different reasons than the Barracuda. “If you aren’t in over your head, how do you know how tall you are?” I knew I wasn’t “tall” enough for this one.

But Dr. Seuss had the solution. “You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You’re on your own. And you know what you know.”

I did know what to do. So I did it. I steered myself away from Bachelor #28. For my own good.

But those blue eyes.

“I picture my epitaph: ‘Here lies Paul Newman, who died a failure because his eyes turned brown.’” (Paul Newman)

May his blue eyes never “fail.” Bachelor #28.

However, I’ll miss his stories. He had one of the best I’ve heard.

We had some great and animated discussions comparing notes on who had been on dates with the most memorable people. I’ve held my own in those types of competitions (as evidenced by this blog) but I had to give Bachelor #28 the victory when he recounted a friend’s experience at dinner with a man she met online who showed up wearing a Superman cape.

Seriously.

He made an excuse about having just been somewhere where he had to wear it, yet he never removed it despite the fact his reason for it was over. He wore the cape throughout the entire meal and date. The woman was mortified.

Bachelor #28 verified it to be absolutely true, as well, when he told the story to another friend, a bartender in Park City, UT, whose face lit up with recognition. She, too, had met and seen the man (but never dated him) about town as well! She noticed him because he always wore a Superman cape!

I give.

I’ve met some memorable people, but no superheroes! (So far.)

Farewell, Bachelor #28.