Archives For Running


When I was a child, I remember learning about the radio replay of “War of the Worlds” and how narrator Orson Welles had listeners actually believing the world was being invaded by aliens. The year was 1938.

I guarantee I would have been one of the gullible people who believed what she heard was fact.

And I would have been scared as hell.

But the fuel of my fear would have been a faceless boogie man. I would have been scared of the stuff that inspires great ghost stories and of the imagery that Alfred Hitchcock presents.

Fortunately, like the child who’s afraid of what potentially lurks in her closet at night, I could flip on the light switch in my brain and make it all go away.

The 117th Boston Marathon happened today. Over twenty thousand runners raced in ideal mid-50s temperatures.

At the 4 hour, 9 minute mark of the race, an explosion detonated and blasted shrapnel into both bystanders and runners alike. About 10 seconds later, a second explosion and more inexplicable carnage followed.

In that moment, life was stolen from some and life for others would forever be stained.

The injured ranged in age from 3 to 62 years. One of the fatalities: an 8-year old child.

I learned about the 8-year old’s death before sending my own 9-year old off to baseball practice.

The unfolding of this event arose a sickeningly familiar feeling within me.

It took me back to September 11, 2001, when I wrote a journal to my oldest whom I carried in my belly at the time, trying to explain the World Trade Center bombings…but knowing I never really could.

It took me back to December 5, 2007, when a high school boy strolled into Von Maur within Westroads Mall in my hometown and meticulously shot and killed eight people, wounded four, and then took his own life. I thought of the parents who were shopping for their own children that day in preparation for Christmas.

It took me back to December 14, 2012, when 20 children and six adults were fatally shot at Sandy Hook Elementary School. I fought the urge to pick my kids up early from school that day, knowing that maintaining a routine was important – as was letting their teachers know how much they mean to me.

I listened to A.M. radio today for updates. I hate listening to A.M. radio. Yet, that seems to be my go-to instinct as I’m collecting my thoughts during times when my mind races about the hows and whys surrounding such tragedy.

I simply can’t come to terms with the fact that these events aren’t radio-staged broadcasts. I can’t change the channel to make the boogie man go away.

That realization hurts my heart in ways I can’t explain.

If my children can live with the knowledge that I’d do everything in my power to protect them, I guess that has to be enough.

Written by Heidi Woodard

This was the view I had last Friday.

melted snow

and my mind tricked me into believing that spring was almost here

This was the view taken from the same camera angle just two days later on Sunday.

snow returns

you are an evil deceiver, Jack Frost

My mindset went from incredibly upbeat to completely ticked off in 48 hours. My mood fell as quickly as the thick snow came down.

I am left to wonder, will THIS be the final snow fall of the season here in Nebraska?

I. Am. Over. Winter.

My kids have a slightly different perspective.

snow day

yet another day off from school

Why can’t I have the same level of appreciation as they do for snow days?

It’s painfully obvious I’m not a kid anymore. Sure, on the surface, it would seem like a nice thing to experience a three-day weekend. And perhaps I would enjoy it more if it didn’t take me 30 minutes to warm up from the time I get out of my bed in the morning. If I wasn’t thinking about letting yet another running workout slip by because I hate the treadmill more than I hate math. If I wasn’t stressed about staying on top of everything in the office without physically being in the office.

This upcoming weekend will mark the end of my boys’ basketball seasons. They played 75 games between the two of them…and neither are ready for their seasons to end.

Guess what? I AM READY.

I am ready to switch to the equally (if not more) insane season of baseball, because those games are played outside and not within the confines of a gymnasium.

I am ready to run outside with a familiar group of colleagues over my lunch hour instead of dragging myself onto a hamster wheel.

I am ready to walk my dog on familiar trails and hear the neighborhood buzz as kids play in inflatable pools and run through sprinklers.

I am ready to blind people with my pasty white legs and wear flip flops as often as possible.

I am ready to take our vacation to Great Wolf Lodge, where my four-year old can experience (for the first time) what all the fuss is about.

I am ready to bid farewell to frigid temps and my perspective. Both are getting a little bitter this time of year.

Created by Heidi Woodard

Blissfully aware

March 3, 2013

I started this “series” back in September 2012 with my first entry dedicated to the things that contribute to my happiness. I’m adding my second installment a mere six months later (I had lofty goals of doing this much more frequently than I actually have.)

1. This video. If you only have time to watch one thing today, make it be this video!

2. My 11-year old son who says things like, “What’s up?” as he strolls into the room…like we’re buddies and actually have stuff in common to talk about.

3. My 9-year old son who no longer fits on my lap, but still lets me snuggle with him…when no one’s looking.

4. My 4-year old daughter who has a STRONG opinion of every piece of clothing she owns. And who does crazy sh*t like this on a daily basis.

5. My husband who has been rocking a weight loss challenge at work and is down 30 freaking pounds.

6. The amount of sleep I got this weekend (I was comatose for a good chunk of it).

7. The Saucony running shoes I just ordered online. I plan to wear them in the Lincoln Half Marathon on May 5.

winner shoes

winner shoes

8. Watching Saturday Night Live on the DVR as the rest of my family goes to bed.

OK, your turn. What are you blissfully aware of these days?

Created by Heidi Woodard