“I am struck by how sharing our weakness and difficulties is more nourishing to others than sharing our qualities and successes.”

As I sat in the hospital room, there wasn't much to do then to contemplate and think... and to think about contemplation itself. It was, after all, the second time in a month I have found myself in this situation.

I've never questioned where I got my strength and determination from, I've always known. It's in my genes, my sister and I are built from it. I see it in her, I see it in our parents, and still, after my 28 years of life, they still never cease to amaze me,

But they are stronger then me.

It's rare that I actually see my family cry, unlike myself, who is lucky to go a day without bawling over something ridiculous... or nothing at all (because sometimes you just want to cry, that's normal - right?). This past month, however, has tested us all. Rough would be an understatement.

People would tell me to be strong, to be strong for my sister, for my dad, for my mom - but I needed them. I was the weakest one as I sat in the corner of that hospital room, unable to control the tears that were pouring from my eyes. It is probably a common misconception people have of me - that I can be emotionally strong, or am emotionally strong. After all, I'm an Ironman. I have a high tolerance for pain and beat my body down on a daily basis - surely I can keep a stern face and hide away emotions. But sadly, the genetics that made me a woman, have also made me a crier.

And it was now that I needed my family more then ever.

"One is never afraid of the unknown; one is afraid of the known coming to an end."

When you aren't sure if things will ever be the same, you can't help but think about what everything used to be. You remember every laugh, every smile, every good time. You regret every argument, every thing you should have done, everything you could have done differently. Even if you never pray, you start to. You pray for health and happiness, another chance. You pray for another moment to run again, together.

Through the hard times you cherish all the good. You swear things will be different, you'll be different .. if you just have that second chance.

When my grandmother passed a few weeks before this moment, I had a hard time getting past all the broken promises I made to her. I never called as often as I should have, I never stopped by on my way home. I felt like a failure. 
I felt like I failed her.
You hope that they still knew how much you loved them, and how much they meant to you.

Even though I would keep her forever if I could, it was her time. She lived a good life, and I thank her for filling my life with love and joy. I thank her for my father.

I have half the strength of him, and half the strength of my mother - who has proven to me exactly how much that is.

It's with respect that the story stops here.

But I will say, "I can't hurt any more than I've been hurt, I can't cry any more than I've cried. I've been to my highest of highs and the lowest of lows, so one day I'm going to find my middle ground and be happy"

These last few weeks, these last four months, have really tested me. They have tested my ability to be strong, to continue on, to keep my head up. They have tested my ability to move forward, to keep hope, and to just be happy.

Tests that I frequently failed at, but I am learning that that is okay too, because "even a happy life cannot be without a measure of darkness. The word happy would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness".

With pain comes strength - and from the days when you just want to throw your arms up and surrender, when you would rather stay in bed then face what it is the day has in store for you, and from the days when it seems like you're just living out a nightmare, you will, eventually, find peace.

So today I am thankful for what it is I still have. I will cherish the opportunity for more moments. One day I will learn from my regrets, and I'll push past them to remember only the good. And I will always keep searching, and living, for happiness.

(from 10/15/12; race recap of my first 140.6)
I had finally reached the second to last water station. This next mile, I had dedicated to my grandmother ... and with this mile, I wasn't going to let her down. 
She may have questioned this journey when I had first signed up, but over the course of my training she had become one of my biggest supporters. With my dad providing her with all of my blogs to read, she has been with me every step. Every good, every bad. Every smile, every tear.
I thought of her voice.
I thought of a phone call she had made to me a week and a half before ... one that she insisted on making right after being taken to the ER just so she could tell me how proud of me she was.
Her support has, and still does, bring me to tears just thinking about it - this is what I thought of.
This one, was for her.