I’m never buying a new home again. I’m never moving again. I’m never running in snow or sub freezing temps again. I’m never drinking beet juice before a race again.

Never say never.

I did all of the above recently. And by recently, I mean all in the last sixty days.

I keep saying “I’m too old for this now.” There was a period in my life not that long ago (is five years considered a long time ago?) when I wouldn’t think twice about moving or racing. Or downing pints of beet juice. It was just part of life. I mean who doesn’t move five times in four years? Or run eight marathons a year and three half marathons a month?

Last weekend did me in. I was NOT signed up for the Carmel Marathon as was my annual tradition since my first visit to the Midwest in 2014. Up until then, the only Carmel I knew was the west coast one pronounced carMEL. It’s taken me almost as long to switch over the pronunciation to Indiana’s CARmel. After that first one in 2014, I really thought Carmel Marathon was one of those races I’d run every year until I died. Just like I thought I’d be one of those teachers at my former elementary school that taught so long that former students would come back and visit with their own children.

My prideful OCD self’s mantra says “all or nothing.” Marathon distance or nothing. It’s more of a hang up than pride if I really think about it. I’ve always let myself get caught up in the extremes – like there’s no in between options. In running and in life.

So when Dave shockingly said one week before the race “What?! You’re not signed up?” he struck a chord. Triggered me. I can’t break my Carmel Marathon streak. Since I was no where near race ready to run 26.2 miles, I signed up for the half marathon. I had just run the Sam Costa half two weeks before that in unexpected snowy, windy conditions which most people, myself included, thought was the LAST remnants of winter. We were wrong.

Surprisingly, I felt pretty good the entire race despite the barrage of snow walking to the start line, pelting of ice at mile six, headwinds on the uphills, and being passed by the actual winner of the full marathon at mile 13 as well as this slice of pizza:

Quick shower then wolfed down the pancake and sausage from the race finish village (thank you race organizers – so much better than a banana), then we were off and running to unload our UBOX which had made the journey from California after being meticulously loaded three weeks prior. *see previous blogpost.

No problem, I thought. It’s gonna be so much easier and faster unloading than it was loading…which it was except for the fact that we weren’t allowed to have the UBOX dropped off at the public storage building entrance which would’ve been steps from our storage unit as well as out of the freezing wind that afternoon. No, it was dropped off around the back of the building at the end of a very long driveway so as to not block any traffic or outside storage unit access. Did I mention I’d just run a half marathon in sub freezing temps a few hours ago?

Side note: I’ve got to work more on upper body strength as I was almost flattened by my own king mattress and used my head sandwiched between it and our storage unit wall for support.

But we made it happen. Thirty years worth of our most prized memorabilia, artwork, and furniture now safely tucked into a storage unit awaiting its final destination at our new forever home. Yes, the one I said I would never buy again that we are now in contract on awaiting its completion in December which warranted us putting our Carmel home on the market and moving into an apartment last month. Move #5 (two houses and three apartments) since 2018 selling and downsizing the home we’d raised Natalie and Meagan in which made us official empty nesters.

It’s impossible to plan for everything empty nesting entails. I’ve swung the pendulum on the emotional side of it as well as the literal nest part. Surprisingly, I’m enjoying apartment living and love our downtown one bedroom apartment as it is perhaps our last opportunity to live the middle aged hipster lifestyle. Lol.

Don’t get me wrong – there was nothing wrong with the empty nester home we bought in 2018 after selling the NorCal home. So in February when Dave shockingly suggested we look at this new home community, even more shockingly, I agreed. Shocking because I had said in no uncertain terms after the last move “I’M NEVER MOVING AGAIN!” But I was triggered. In a good way really. Maybe because Meagan was married now. Maybe because I was finally able to let go of soooooo much guilt and pain of the last few years from dad’s Parkinson’s and mom’s Alzheimer’s. Maybe because God was showing me how to find peace and joy again by learning to embrace the place He’s prepared for me.

I haven’t been the same since my parents died. Dad in 2019, Mom in 2021. For sure, they’re enjoying pain free eternal glory together with Jesus now. But death changes you. I didn’t realize until we looked at the model home in the community we are now in contract on that I’d been living like I could meet my Maker next week – and not in the way you’re supposed to – as in making the most of each day and opportunity. To put it simply, my attitude about a lot of things had become “What’s the point?” I mean if I’m just gonna end up in a nursing home or memory care facility…yeah, not the best outlook to carry around. Mortality stared me in the face especially when I thought about the dreaded packing and purging of stuff we’d accumulated during 34 years of marriage. I was all over the place emotionally…again. One minute I was like “Why have I been saving all this stuff? Dave, just get one of your guys out there to toss everything!” The next minute I’m crying as I’m clinging to the blurry, faded photo of my dad at the Los Angeles Zoo with three year old Natalie and one year Meagan. So much stuff. I had saved one golf club after clearing out Mom and Dad’s house – a behemoth task unto itself. It was his favorite club. I almost had Mom’s and my violins tossed when the junk haulers came, but my sister had the presence of mind – and heart – to save them. I also have large boxes filled with art projects and writing samples from Nat and Meg’s preschool to high school years. Endless collections of photos and film, yes, from the pre-digital camera era. WHAT EXACTLY AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH ALL THIS STUFF?

The more I run, the more I’m noticing I notice stuff around me. Nature stuff. God’s stuff. The bluest sky as the backdrop. The slightest signs of changing seasons. Birds singing their different tunes. It’s mid April. Spring has sprung. Time for God to show off once again as He faithfully does each year. The slumber and barrenness of winter soon to be a distant memory. How is it that only a few months before winter the trees were literally glowing spectacular hues then shed on the ground below? Where did all that stuff go? I mean I know it’s all biodegradable, but it just now occurred to me that God, the Creator, is the ultimate “stuff master.” He made sure everything He put in this storage unit called Earth had a place and a way to cycle out its seasonal attire.

As promising warmer, drier weather is in the forecast, our new house foundation is scheduled for digging this week. I love that the timing coincides with Easter. The hope and promise of new life, new beginning, new chapter, new foundation…

Ironically, of the four homes we built from ground up and the other five that already had foundations laid, this one will have the biggest “footprint” aka foundation and most square footage if you include the basement. This California girl’s first basement – which I intend to paint super bright colors and add more lighting than an airport runway so as to mitigate any creepy murder basement vibes.

I guess we failed when it came to downsizing. Oops. I’ve been excitedly calling this our forever home. “Forever” because it will be the last time I have to pack and unpack. We will even have a basement big enough to store all of Indiana’s preschool macaroni art and comparative essays. Woo-hooooo! I have to smile when I think about how much bigger, grander, and incomparable the workmanship will be in the house our Heavenly Father has built for us – the real deal forever home. He’s already taken the stress and guesswork out of agonizing decisions like paint color. Sherman Williams “7015 Repose Gray” or “7016 Mindful Gray”…Seriously, calm down, Irene. It’s just paint. Lord willing, Dave and I will be in this house 30-40 years and need to repaint at some point after little monkeys visit. But maybe that’s what you’re supposed to do with basements – send the grandkids down there. Or set up a winter obstacle course for your doggo. Or build a mini version of Cal’s Memorial Stadium complete with astroturf and yard lines. The possibilities are endless. Stay tuned, friends…

“Don’t let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, and trust also in Me (Jesus). There is more than enough room in my Father’s home. If this were not so, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? When everything is ready, I will come and get you, so that you will always be with me where I am.” John 14:2-3 NLT (emphasis mine)

“When He assigned to the sea its limit,
So that the waters would not transgress His command,
When He marked out the foundations of the earth…” Proverbs 8:29 NKJV

“God, my God, how great you are!
beautifully, gloriously robed,
Dressed up in sunshine,
and all heaven stretched out for your tent.
You built your palace on the ocean deeps,
made a chariot out of clouds and took off on wind-wings.
You commandeered winds as messengers,
appointed fire and flame as ambassadors.
You set earth on a firm foundation
so that nothing can shake it, ever.” Psalm 104 MSG

Photo Credit: CarmelRoadRacingGroup.smugmug.com