It's 2016. A new year full of new possibilities. Looking back at 2015, I had 4 goals:

1. To be a good dog mom. #success

2. To run. #success I ran 1,417 miles in 2015 completing a half marathon, several 10ks, a 50 mile run, and a 50K.
3. To write. #success 3 shorts picked up for publication and a novel ready to send to editors and 2 children's books in the works
4. To be the best version of myself possible. I like to think this is an on-going process, but I'm trying every day.

In 2016 I hope to add  the following to these goals of loving my dog, running, writing, and being a decent human being.
1. Run in 12 new places.
2. Check help someone finish an ultra off of my bucket list. Thanks to my dear friend Cade I should be able to do this. Hopefully if  I blog about wanting to pace him in 2016s Travelers 100, he will for sure sign up and help me realize my dream by letting me help him finish his race.
3. Get out of the #nonewfriends club and network more. I have a goal of getting into a career in non-profit work in the next couple of years. Like a big time goal I need to make happen. I need to start breaking out of my shell and putting myself out there to make connections.

    After years of contemplation--seriously years and years, I used to sit on the computer and Google tattoos for hours in high school--I finally got my first tattoo. I waited so long to get one, because I didn't know what I had done that I wanted to advertise on my body. I always thought my first tattoo would be for my first book. However, as you all know, I've been super slow at that haha! (Update though, I'm finishing my edits on Jaisa's story this weekend--that means it's time to decide if I'm going to try to pitch it to publishers now or ask one of my mentors if I can hire her to read and revise it with me). (Secondary update: the Young Adult piece I wrote for For Books' Sake is coming out in February 2016). Any way, after running Run Rabbit Run this year, I realized that I wanted to wear my t-shirt from that race every day. I wanted to be reminded what I can do every day. So I wanted a running tattoo, but I wanted it to be special and to be me. 
     When I was a senior, I applied for one college scholarship. Not a good idea. I wouldn't recommend putting all of your eggs in one basket like that, but I got the scholarship. And it was huge--full ride 4 years any school in Nebraska. The reason I got this scholarship was my writing. They asked for an essay about my life story. In 500 words. That's like a page--very hard to pack such a lustrous (haha) life into only 500 words. With the help of the wonderful Miss Henre at Norfolk Senior High, I wrote an essay. Miss Henre thought I should use a poem or song or something to thread through the essay that the judges would remember. I used the poem "The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost. So my tattoo is a crossroads--one side easy and sunny, the other side a challenge. Taking the challenge, be it running 50 miles or making a hard decision or standing up for what's right, in the words of Robert Frost "that has made all the difference" and made me Me. 

Shout out to Katie at Tenth Sanctum for the amazing job she did on this piece. I love it so much. 

      No matter what stage of life we are in, life is hard. There are ups so high you feel like you are invincible and lows so low you wonder why you keep going. In my opinion, most of this is tied to knowledge and perspective.
     When we are kids, we are frustrated because everyone older than us thinks they know best. We are bossed around, herded, but hopefully, also challenged to grow, learn, and develop. Kids ask WHY all the time. "Because I said so" isn't an answer. Giving kids reasons as to why we do things will help them grow and understand. It will make them feel respected and everyone deserves respect no matter how young. Being a kid and not having the answers is hard. But a kid who isn't given the chance to learn the answers and ask questions of him/herself is a kid who will have it hard forever.
     When we are teenagers, we are still supposed to be learning and growing and asking questions but we are just on the cusp of independence and waiting for that is antagonizing. If you are a teenager, enjoy it. You have some perspective on life already. The worst things that usually happen as a teen is that we begin to realize that life isn't rainbows and butterflies, but for the most part our highs and lows are school dances and breakups and sporting events and fights with parents. Teens are so smart. They have the world at their feet. If you are a teen, tell yourself every day that you can do anything and ask 5 new questions every day. Don't stop looking for answers until you get them. If you aren't a teen but you know some, challenge their questions, make them think, but please, please, don't ever tell them they "can't" or they "won't be able to" do something. Being an adult is hard enough. Let them live in the life of "anything is possible" for as long as they can.
     In college we pay a lot of money to supposedly prepare ourselves for the real world and the rest of our lives. Or we pay a lot of money to drink beer and come out with student debt and no idea what to do with ourselves. I didn't drink a lot of beer nor do I have student loans, but I'm almost five years out of college, 1.5 years out of grad school, and I still have no idea what I'm doing. I'm wondering if being in your 20s is the worst stage of all. There are still highs, there are still lows, but now that we are "adults" and supposed to know what we are doing, the highs are shorter usually followed by a low "oh, shit, what did I get myself into." And that's OK, I think. We aren't supposed to have it all figured out in our 20s or even 30s or beyond. Surround yourself with good people. People who'll dig you out of a hole when you hit your bottom (or finally realize you aren't in college anymore and the hangover is real), and people who'll cheer your way to the top of your highs. Just because college is over doesn't mean it's time to stop learning. No way. This is the time where we learn about ourselves with the most flourish.  No one is paying your bills anymore. No one has a say in where you go or what you do, so explore. Be bold. Be scared. I'm scared every day. But if you aren't doing things that are scary, if you only ever hang out in that comfort zone, you'll never change. You'll never learn or become better if you don't take on a challenge. Learning doesn't stop at college. We take these risks like sky diving and bungee jumping and drinking too much and climbing mountains. If you would put your faith in a parachute or a harness, why wouldn't you put that faith into yourself? You are amazing. Exactly the way you are. And it's OK to not have any idea what you are doing. You are worth it. Life is worth it. Think how much higher the high, better the reward, when you've gone through the low and the challenge to receive it.
     I don't know what happens beyond our 20s. I can imagine it's still hard. Maybe our highs and lows start to even out some. I think we still have melt downs and freak outs. But that's where perspective starts to come in, right? As we get older, we realize life is too short. Live it now. Take the risks. See what happens. If you fall, you fall, so what? You know that wasn't the option for you. And that's OK. Move on to the next thing. Let go of the things that don't serve you. Embrace the things that do and learn more about them. I imagine that the worst thing that could happen in this life is to wake up and realize it's too late. I believe in you.

I was unsure of how to write about the tragedies in Paris that occurred last week. And then my idiot governor of this great state of Nebraska showed me how to do it. 

In my opinion our first task as members of humanity and citizens of the world is to send our love and thoughts to those most closely connect to the attacks. Those who have lost their lives, loved ones, and feelings of safety. This is not the first horrific event of its kind, nor will it be the last, and every event like this deserves our attention. 

The second great tragedy of this event is what it will do to members of the Muslim community. There are 1.4 billion people who practice the religion of Islam. If we wanted to fuel the fire that some are creating in their belief that Islam=terrorism, then we are feeding into the extremists who are misrepresenting their religion and rallying their cause around their believe that the Western world is waging a war on Islam. Islam actually means peace. Just as Christians don't let the KKK or the Westboro Baptist church represent all of Christianity, we cannot let extremist stereotype 1.4 billion peaceful people. People cause violence, not faith. 

America has prided herself on being a country of the free. We are the melting pot of the world. The Statue of Liberty says, "Give me your tired, your poor,/Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,/The wretched refuse of your teeming shore./Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,/I lift my lamp beside the golden door!" This is what America was founded on--being a place of freedom, safety, and acceptance. And now there are governors claiming they will refuse Syrian refugees from their states? Not only is it un-American to not help those who are fleeing the terrorists we so passionately stand against, it's inhumane to not help our fellow brothers and sisters, our fellow human beings. Two million of these refugees are children. Two million children who have lost parts of their family, their homes, their childhood innocence and we won't open our doors to give them safety from those extremists. 

I know full well there are many, many millions of Christians with compassion in their hearts who do not have ill will toward our Muslim neighbors. I also know that the United States is slowing becoming a nation of non-religious and "Other" rather than so dominated by Christianity. Yet, there are some high profile, high power Christians who are taking a very un-Christian approach to the issue of helping these "huddled masses yearning to breathe free." Jeb Bush feels we should only allow Christian refugees into our country. The Governor of my state, Nebraska, has also said he would refuse Syrian refugees fleeing war. This same Governor has spent over $300,000 on keeping the death penalty in Nebraska even when lawmakers voted to abolish it. Apparently Governor Ricketts has a loose interpretation of the Commandment "Thou shall not kill." Christians in America will soon celebrate Christmas--a holiday where we learn of a Middle-Eastern family who traveled far from their home only to be turned away at every inn and made to sleep in a barn. Is that really how we are going to treat those seeking a roof over their heads? The most popularly quoted Bible verse tells us that God so loved the world that he sacrificed his only son to save all of humanity. All of humanity. Jesus didn't say I'll die for you and you, but the rest of y'all can suffer. 

I have never been ashamed of where I am from until this last year when I have seen my state give marriage equality and then have the governor take it away, abolish the death penalty and then have the governor fight for it to stay. Now we have the opportunity to show love and compassion to our fellow humans and the governor wants to turn those who need our help away. I am embarrassed and ashamed. I am so saddened that the place where I was raised, the place that has shown me so much love and support would be so backward to not extend that love and support to all who need it.

For now, I can close with pride in my president, pride in my country. In response to those who have said they will deny refugees, Obama has said: "When I hear folks say that, well, maybe we should just admit the Christians but not the Muslims; when I hear political leaders suggesting that there would be a religious test for which a person who’s fleeing from a war-torn country is admitted, when some of those folks themselves come from families who benefited from protection when they were fleeing political persecution—that’s shameful. That’s not American. That’s not who we are. We don’t have religious tests to our compassion."  http://go.wh.gov/Qr48Yt That. That right there is the kind of person I want to be. The kind of world I want to live in. I know that the number one thing in this world I am meant to be is kind to everyone and the world around me.  If we close our doors on those who are "different" from us, life will be a long and lonely existence. Open your eyes. If we were all the same, we'd never learn, never grow, never become better. We need each other. 

     I think there comes a point in every person’s life when she/he realizes someone he/she looked up to is a human being with flaws. While we accept things like speeding tickets or an occasional F-bomb, a poor choice or two in someone’s youth, but it can be pretty earth shattering when we realize that someone we look up to represents something we are against. As we grow up and we start to formulate our own morals and values, sometimes those new ideas can go against what our teachers, parents, grandparents, mentors, aunts, uncles have told us. And that’s OK. If we all were the same, the human race would never progress. However, you’ll probably reach a point in your life when you’ll have the choice to stand up for what you believe in or be silent. As scary and daunting as it is, I encourage you to stand up.

     I’m going to write about my dad not because I want people to think he is a crappy person, but because I believe I have a real duty to use my voice. My dad is not a crappy person, but somethign needs to be said. My dad was my hero when I was little. He carried me on his shoulders, taught me to count, shot hoops with me, took me to the farm and taught me how to drive. He gave me my first job mowing lawns, has traveled all over with me to watch me race, and he never, ever misses a chance, still to this day, to tell me he loves me and he’s proud of me.

     But my dad is racist.

     And he goes out of his way to be racist.

     My dad is from a small town. He probably has no friends of color nor does he interact with any people who are too different than him—middle class, white, Christian, male. And that’s all OK. I can forgive not understanding another culture. I can understand not believing another religion. Hell, I can understand not believing that racism exists if you live in a place where you can’t see it daily. However, his racism is not this subtle. Every day he post something on Facebook that screams with bigotry. At first I removed him from Facebook. Then there were emails. I broke down each email with care and statistics that I was sure would convince anyone that racism still exists and open his eyes to the obstacles that people face every day. Nothing. And maybe he didn’t read them. Maybe he wants to live this way. But I can’t let it go. I can’t believe that someone who has taught me how to love and loved me so much could spread that kind of hate into the world.

     I believe that we are all different so that we can learn from one another. So that we can teach each other and help each other become better. My dad taught me when I was small. I also have faith in his love for me that he’ll have my back no matter what. I have to believe with all of my heart that by saying something, maybe I can start to change his mind and he can now learn from me. I love my dad. But someday I might adopt a baby that is African-American or Latino or marry someone of a different race or religion or maybe my child will be LGBTQ (something else my dad can’t wrap his mind around). I don’t want that child to grow up in a world where her mom doesn’t stand up for her and her grandfather’s racism/bigotry is ignored. I don’t want any child to grow up in a place where people aren’t working to give them a better world.

     Love everyone. Even for their imperfections. But don’t be afraid to stand up for what is right. If you question if something is right or not, ask yourself if what is being said is spreading love or hate. Always help love win.  

Haters are gonna hate.

We've all heard that line so many times that it's easy to dismiss. However, we all know someone who lives on drama, someone who can't be pleased, someone who has to be right all the time, someone who judges everyone he/she walks passed. When we are the observer of this kind of hater behavior, it's easy to say, well she's a Drama Queen--her life is so boring that she has to pick at the littlest things and blow them out of proportion. It's easy to say, well, he's a hardass. Nothing is good enough for him so why bother.

But it's not easy to be the recipient of that behavior. It's not easy to bust your butt every day for a coach that, rather than seeing the 20 free throws you made in a row, hounds you for the layup you missed. It's not easy to be friends with someone who gives backhanded compliments like "you are so pretty, but it's too bad your acne takes away from that." Seriously. People are assholes.

I'd love to tell you to hold your head high and your middle finger higher and give a big f-you to the haters. While I'd totally support you if you did that, I know that is not the easy or classiest way to deal with haters. I'd love to tell you kill them with kindness, because if you repeatedly ooze with niceness, there's no way that someone could feel comfortable always being a jerk. However, as stated above, people are assholes, so that might not be a viable option either.

My best piece of advice when dealing with haters is this process:
1. Ask yourself if this person's comment/action is something that is mean (intentionally or unintentionally) or is it actually productive criticism.
2. If it's mean, move to 2A. If it's actually the hard truth that you needed to hear, but didn't want to hear, move on to 2B.
     2A. Take a moment before reacting to this mean comment. This is hard. Probably the hardest part of the whole process. Think about what part of you, physically or emotionally is being attack. Move to 3.
     2B. Thank the person you are talking with for having the hard conversation with you. Brainstorm ways to move forward with the criticism you received.
3. If this is something you can correct with kindness: if my friend says wow, I love your jeans, they really make your butt look smaller. Instead of being pissed she called my butt fat, I could say, "thanks, Stacy. Your hair looks great today" and hope that, eventually, she gets sick of sounding like a jerk when I come off sounding kind. If this is something you cannot correct with kindness, move on to step 4.
4. This is when it gets real. These are usually the worst hater attacks. These are the things we can't brush off as easily. Example: Someone tells me, "Erin, you would be a much better person if you spent less time running and more time praying." Or "Erin, there's no way you can support gay rights and not go to hell." These things don't brush off easily, because they are me. I run because it's my religion and I feel it makes me a better person. I do support and love every person, no matter who they are/what they believe/who they love/where they come from. To these haters, my best advice is to say, "take me for who I am, or leave me. Love me like I love you, treat me how you want to be treated, or buzz off and mind your own business."

We are all different because our differences are what make us interesting. Our differences are what help us challenge one another and help each other grow. Love who you are, be proud of who you are, and if anyone tells you differently, take a moment to remind yourself that haters are gonna hate. Then tell all the haters, if they don't have anything nice to say to you, don't bother saying anything at all. You are better than their drama, their judgment, their meanness. Nobody's got time for haters.

I did it. I finished Run Rabbit Run 50 miles again. Last year I did not get an official time although I finished (see my previous blog post about how it all went), this year, I conquered the mountain in the time allowed. I'll do like last year and break things down by section.

Start to Mount Werner: This is one of the worst parts of the race. And it's the very beginning. 6.4 miles all uphill, all switchbacks. You gain 3,900 feet in elevation. I had a headache. But** unlike last year, I had my buddy Cade with me. Last year I followed a group that ran the wrong way. Like literally crossed the start line in the wrong direction. This year, Cade was there to lead me. We met other friends. Last year was my first year running Run Rabbit, and I was one of maybe 50 people who raised their hands when asked if it was their first 50 miler. This year, well over half of the race was first time 50 milers. Way freaking cool.

Mount Werner to Long Lake: This part of the trail is mostly runable, meaning lots of downhills and flats, not so much hiking. It's single track--so narrow and technical (lots of rocks and roots to navigate)--and mostly sneaky downhill. I love this part of the race but hate it with a fiery passion because I know how horrible it is on the way back. This is the longest section between aid stations--6.8 miles. This year I was far better trained. I packed breakfast burritos. I slammed one here. I was not going to let not eating hit me like it did last year.

Long Lake to Base Camp: Lovely section. Also mostly runable. Cade and I caught up with his wife Molly, my most wonderful friend who got me to do this race (some crazy friend huh?). She was having a rough day and Cade wasn't feeling well either so they decided to stick together. I had to go on alone. Last year I was only alone for one section (the long one mentioned above on the way back) and I went to a dark, dark place. I'm pretty sure a piece of my soul got left between Long Lake and Mount Werner last year. This time, however, I didn't mind being alone. Long Lake to Base Camp is pretty. You travel over streams, across meadows, and through the forest. This section is around 5 miles long.

Base Camp to Dumont: I felt so good here. I knew my family was waiting for me at Dumont. My mom, aunts Linda and Karla, boyfriend, and grandpa had all come out to support me. Telling myself they were there helped me go harder. When they saw me, they cheered and jumped and hugged me and reminded me why I run--to be a better person, to be a person that my family is proud of. And not proud of because of the miles I can run, but because of what running does to my work ethic, my spirit, and the way it clears my head. I'd really probably be a jerk if I didn't run.

Dumont to Rabbit Ears: This part is hard. You have to go 3ish miles up the mountain to touch Rabbit Ears, a rock formation for which the race, and a pass along the mountain, is named. It's steep, like crawling up and down steep--last year I slid down on my butt. It's above the tree line. I hated myself ever step I took up toward that stupid rock but damn it if I didn't touch it and forget all those awful thoughts. I touched the rock, knew I was half way, and practically skipped down the mountain back to Dumont. I hugged my family one more time and knew it would be hours before I saw them again. Molly and Cade were at Dumont. They had decided to drop from the race. They both hugged me, lectured me on salt and eating, and told me they'd see me at the finish line.

If you're going to drop out of this race, Dumont is the place to do it. It's the only place where someone can take you back down the mountain. I look at Dumont as no turning back. Miles 22ish and 28ish.

Dumont to Base Camp: Well, it wouldn't be a race for me if I didn't go the wrong way once. I had to pee, stopped, got disoriented, ran the wrong way, found a buddy, found our way back to the path and carried on. I proceeded to pass my buddy and go it alone.

Base Camp to Long Lake: Everything on my body felt good. I felt strong and knew I was far better trained this year than last. Last year I didn't know what to expect. I was totally ready to run 50 miles, but had done little hiking training. Stupid. This year, I was ready to hike the ups, run the downs and the flats. I trained in the humidity, the closest thing I could do to get ready for the altitude. My best running buddies Yadi and John were real troopers going out to the trails for 3-6 hours 1-2 days every weekend. Last year I had also done a half Ironman 6 weeks before Run Rabbit. Stupid. This year I did my last tri the last weekend in June so that I was prepared to take 2 months to train for RRR. Smart. I was alone again, but doing well.

Long Lake to Mount Werner: Oh, this cursed section. Last year this was the only place where I was alone. I thought I was going to die. I thought I was lost and that I would have to lie down and freeze to death or be eaten by a bear. Or be shot by a hunter. The only thing getting me through was knowing that my mom was waiting for me. This time I knew to expect this. I also knew half of my family was waiting for me. I passed a few groups of people. My left butt cheek was starting to kill me and running felt way better than hiking and walking. I thought about my friends Michael and Jake that I made last year at RRR. I missed them. I wondered if they were doing the race again this year. I caught up to a group at the last 2 miles of this section and decided to stay with them. I could tell I was starting to go to a dark place. Then we heard the glorious, heavenly ringing of the bell at Mount Werner. I could have kissed that bell ringer.

Mount Werner to Finish: This year I had plenty of clothes and light but I didn't need it at the start of my descent. I started down with a girl named Sharon. This was her first 50 mile, and we needed each other to finish. We were both running down the mountain fairly well. The thing that propelled us was our conversation and each other's company. Your family can take the gondola up the ski mountain and meet you at mile 46. My aunts, mom, and John were all there cheering. They had been singing songs from The Sound of Music and playing cards--you know, what my family does best: show tunes, cards, and laughing. We didn't know what kind of condition I would be in when I met them so we'd planned on all going down together. Since running felt better than walking (left butt cheek probs), I had to keep running. John joined Sharon and me which we were a million times thankful for. John is the most wonderful talker in situations where you just want to listen and let someone else talk. As we zig zagged down the switchbacks, we could hear my mom and aunts giggling above us. John, Sharon, and I crossed the finish line together. We even had kick enough left for a faster run to the finish line. I will be ever thankful to Sharon and her companionship down the mountain. That's why I do this race. I've done road races and triathlons all over the country, but never have I ever experienced anything like I've felt when I've finished this race--be it last year when our group vowed not to let anyone finish last or this year when Sharon and I hugged and knew we'd helped one another finish something that 99.9% of people will never even dream of starting. I love Run Rabbit Run. Last year I finished in 15 hours and 31 minutes. This year I finished in 14 hours and 13 minutes.

On our way home back to Omaha from Steamboat, John and I signed up for a 50K in southeastern Nebraska. I can't even tell you how excited I am for us to take this on together. Hopefully this will be the final finger tap he needs to sign up for Run Rabbit Run next year. I know I'll be there again. It seems I agree with Molly and Cade that this day is the greatest day of the year, yes, better than Thanksgiving.

Hugs and lots of love. My next short story is coming out this month! Stay tuned!

Squad

 

Rabbit Ears. I touched that rock!