A Breather

Aloha from…well, the chair in my living room on a rather chilly day in late February.  But there is sunshine in my heart and a patch of sunburn on my right shoulder, so let’s pretend for just a little while that we are all hanging out on the beach in Maui, watching the sun go down with a Haagen Daaz bar in our hands.

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About a thousand years ago (or, more precisely, exactly one year ago), Lucy turned two months old and I told Jason that when I stopped nursing her, I was going to Hawaii.  I think he brushed it off as the crazy ramblings of an overtired new mom, but I meant it.  And, to his credit, he went with it.  And so a week ago my trusty ol’ carry-on and I boarded a plane headed across the Pacific (flying with no kids!!!!!!) and were greeted (after 14 hours and a questionable landing…) to a rainbow over the palm trees.  Yes.

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It is almost insulting your intelligence to say it was awesome.  Of course it was.  My parents and Auntie Fay and Uncle Charlie have been in Hawaii all month (please let me be them when I am retired…), so they let me crash on their couch and fed me and basically spoiled me like I’m pretty sure I’ve never been spoiled before.  I pretty much spent the first three days laying somewhat comatose on a beach lounger, listening to a Harry Potter audiobook and drifting off to sleep every so often.  And then I managed to wake up enough to read some books that I actually had to hold in my hands, shop a bit, watch a few episodes of “Doc Martin,” and play pickle ball with the over-60 crowd.  I slept, like, ten hours a night and until I woke up on my own for the first time in four years.  I actually felt the tension and exhaustion drain out of my shoulders.  It was amazing, of course.

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Also, I got to run in the sunshine instead of the snow, which, at this point in the half marathon training and this point in this long winter, is definitely no small potatoes.  I had to run my previous long run in five (yes, FIVE) layers of clothing because the feels-like temp was 16 degrees (#hardcore #ormaybecrazy).  Tank top and shorts, accompanied by the smell of Hawaiian flowers and sound of crashing waves?  Yes, please.

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I love Hawaii.  I am always ready to come home from vacation, no matter how wonderful, unless that vacation is to Hawaii, and then I could stay there forever.  I love the smells and sounds and feel of Hawaii.  It is my happy place.  And after the past few weeks, especially, I needed a little cocooning in my happy place, and I am so humbled by the way that Jason and my parents and my in-laws, who came to help with the kids while I was gone, have taken care of me.  I think I’m ready to emerge back into this new phase of my life now.