I’ve dreaded writing this chapter for months. Somehow putting pen to paper makes it final, seals the deal, no turning back. Well, here goes…

We moved.

Yeah, yeah, what’s the big deal? Lots of people move all the time. Heck, I’ve moved almost thirty times in my 53 years – four of them just in the last three years. Most of the moves during my adult years were even MY idea. In my defense, I’ve also completely packed and unpacked each home myself – no small feat given the amount of stuff we’d accumulated over the course of 32 years of marriage, two kids, a dog, plus several of Dave’s real estate offices. Then there was the purging, moving, remodeling, and selling of my folks’ home after my dad passed away last October. This last move I caught myself saying out loud “I’m getting too old for this!” I absolutely hate asking for help and actually broke down crying after asking Dave to help me hang a heavy picture in our new home. I’ve taken a lot of pride in making sure everything is in its new place with each move as if it were about to be featured as a big reveal episode on HGTV.

Moving used to be fun.

Back when it was just a cross town move. The kids didn’t need to change schools. Many times I got to pick out paint colors, flooring, counter tops, blah, blah, blah. Now the kids have homes of their own to obsess over furniture and picture placement.

This last move was not my idea.

I mean, sure, no one pointed a gun to my head and said “Move!” Had you told me six years ago when I first visited Indiana that we would move and eventually retire here, I’d say you’re outta yo mind. Would you believe the only reason I agreed to even visit back in 2014 was because I’d lost a bet with Dave? He’d been traveling to Indy for business after the last California real estate slump in 2008 and really took a liking to the people and doors God had started to open. He kept asking, okay, telling me I should come out with him to visit and that I’d like it. Can I confess that all I pictured was cornfields and a stark absence of Peet’s Coffee and Lululemon stores? Finally, one day I jokingly said “I will go with you if there’s a marathon in Carmel.” Next thing I know, Dave’s sending me a link to register for the Carmel Indiana Marathon on April 12th, 2014.

I didn’t wanna admit it, but I felt something that first trip.

Relieved to not see cornfields. Relieved to find a REALLY good coffee place (felt like I was cheating on Peet’s). Relieved to see a high-end mall with a Tesla showroom, Pinkberry frozen yogurt, and Lululemon. Amazed to see beautiful, massive, traditional as well as modern churches everywhere. Flabbergasted to see houses with land – actual land – all around them and no fences in between surrounded by so much lush greenery without any sprinklers. Humbled to see God’s provision of the homes Dave had completed and ones that were in process. Encouraged to see a pastor at the marathon start line invited to say an opening prayer over the event and participants. Surprised at how peaceful I felt throughout that entire first visit.

If I’m being totally honest with myself, I’ve been in denial ever since that trip. Denial that I could ever be happy moving there. Here. The majority of those feelings were rooted in the thought of leaving behind family and friends. Oh, the guilt but mostly just straight up missing them. Then there’s all the creature comforts like my go to grocery store, my Costco (which, as it turns out, is everywhere), my dentist (no one is ever gonna replace Vicky), my sushi place (Amakara), and my pre-race carbo load of choice (Amici’s pizza and pasta). Let’s face it, we’re spoiled in California with year round near perfect weather and world renown places to visit some of which became our family’s favorite day trips. Napa, Tahoe, Half Moon Bay, Monterey, Carmel (pronounced carMEL not CARmel). And last but not least, all the local races that had become annual traditions penned – not penciled – in on my calendar.

Well, Covid19 certainly took care of my race calendar. Wiped it clean. Oddly enough, that gave me a sense of relief. Not the virus part, the race part. Relief because I didn’t think I could keep up my level of training during this move and now SIP restrictions. My first cancelled race was San Diego Half Marathon which I vowed to run with my daughter Natalie until I could no longer. In fact, I was in Indiana all set to fly directly to SD the Friday before the race when the first shelter in place orders started mid March. Then they all started dropping like flies. I’ve never seen the word “cancelled” so much. *BTW, it should be spelled with double l’s. Looks more balanced and obeys the double consonant rule. One of those little shelter in place obsessions along with toilet paper, hand sanitizer, and baker’s yeast – which I finally received this week – thank you, Amazon market. For the yeast, I mean. Don’t worry, we’ve never run out of the other two.

God’s provision and timing have been nothing short of miraculous. Did we HAVE to move during shelter in place or at all for that matter? No. Did we have peace doing so? Yes.

The pudding has plenty of proof. Things went so smoothly. We were shown much favor and grace with various moving related services. The last step which was somewhat symbolic for me was shipping my car cross country. It could not have gone better despite my nearly passing out watching it being loaded.

I’ve settled in nicely especially now that I have my “baby” with me. You really take having a car at your disposal for granted until you don’t. I’ve been able to find my new fave grocery store which comes with a grand piano in the upstairs dining area and serenades you while you’re in the produce section as I experienced yesterday. More importantly, I’ve discovered some new trails to run. This recent discovery has been a bit bittersweet though. Some segments of the trails here remind me of maaaaaaany NorCal trails and races I’ve run over the past decade. On one of my quests for hills and ANY sort of elevation out here in predominantly flat Indiana, I was elated to find some beautiful, lush trails in Fort Harrison State Park. Many single track and portions that reminded me of Saratoga’s, Dipsea’s, Lake Chabot’s densely forested trails. But what got me all choked up was this one hill. By Mt. Diablo Summit standards you wouldn’t even call it a hill. More like a speed bump. But as I was working my way up this very short climb, my heart started aching remembering what it took to climb and descend the 31+ miles of Mt. Diablo’s 8,349 feet of elevation back home, I mean, in NorCal. It took digging deep and trusting God 110% for each step. This 50k race took me places on foot and in my heart I will forever cherish. Those views from the valleys, from the summit, and everything in between. It was as close to Heaven on earth as it gets. Funny, but the last time I ran this race I kinda knew it would be my last. We hadn’t even decided on the move yet.

That aching heart thing. Since the move, I’ve felt this aching every time I open up Facebook or Instagram and see my friends post gorgeous pics of their runs at ALL my fave places. The one that really killed me the other day was a post with pics at Lafayette Reservoir. Oh man…scroll past fast before I start crying ugly tears. C’mon now, it’s been my happy place for over 30 years. From before our wedding and running to lose weight but gained instead, to when our kids were born and that one labor inducing attempt around the lower trail, to when I almost sent a child careening off the trail from the double stroller into the reservoir, to when I actually started calling myself a runner, to when I coached a cancer survivor friend on to her first 5k, to when I ran seven lower trail loops as marathon PR training, to when I ran four Upper Rim trail loops as Mt. Diablo 50k training, to running countless prayer laps before my dad died…

The last time I was at the Lafayette Reservoir I was turned away even before I could step foot on the trails. The entrance was completely barricaded due to Covid19. I had just dropped Dave off at Oakland Airport for like the millionth time. Another reason why our move was necessary. The time apart had become increasingly unbearable. Instead of running my San Diego Half Marathon virtual race at the reservoir that morning, I turned around and headed back towards Danville for the Iron Horse Trail. Another trail fave. Completed the requisite 13.1 miles.

Yesterday I stumbled upon a Facebook post that was both inspiring and healing. It was from my running hero, world class marathoner, NorCal native, and fellow believer Sara Hall (wife of Olympian Ryan Hall). She was a top contender and on pace for a spot on the 2020 US Olympic team until about mile 20 of the marathon trials in Atlanta on February 29th. Leap year day. I was glued to my laptop watching her every move from 30,000 feet that morning on board a Southwest flight to Indy. Little did anyone know this would be the last “real” race for awhile. Since then, even Boston has gone from being postponed to fully cancelled. My heart ached for Sara that day. My heart aches for those who qualified for Boston 2020 knowing what it would have meant if it had been me.

Sara had posted a pic from Atlanta’s Olympic trials with this caption: “What a gift to have something you miss so much.”

My heart didn’t ache this time. I would go so far as to say it was smiling. As I pondered Sara’s words, I felt my heart filling up. Overflowing.

I’d been dreading blogging about our move because I was worried it would dredge up so much heartache from all the people and things I already miss. I was quite frankly tired of crying all the time. Bad time for hormones to kick into overdrive (that’s a whole other dreaded post). Guilt over leaving family and friends can and has been paralyzing. Action or non-action driven by guilt is kind of just a band aid, hitting a pause button, a place holder. It’s been a struggle to fully commit to anything long term as a result. Saying yes to stuff here or there felt like I was being disloyal to the other. Time to move on and press on. No more marching in place. Literally. But don’t listen to me – God said it best:

“For the mouth speaks out of that which fills the heart.” Matthew 12:34 NASB

“Guard your heart above all else,
for it determines the course of your life.” Proverbs 4:23 NLT

“I’m not saying that I have this all together, that I have it made. But I am well on my way, reaching out for Christ, who has so wondrously reached out for me. Friends, don’t get me wrong: By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I’ve got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward—to Jesus. I’m off and running, and I’m not turning back.” Philippians 3:12-14 MSG