Things I Learned Meeting My New Hometown

 – One who rarely drinks should not take an ativan before an early morning flight, eat nothing all day then grab a couple glasses of wine and questionable calamari unless one would like to be vomiting in the bushes outside the Eastside Mario’s at 11pm.  Happy 11th Anniversary, babe, I thought for good measure I’d make you hold my hair like we were 17 again.

– Living in a city on a lake means beautiful views, amazing weather and absolutely no chance of me having a good hair day for the next 3 years.  12 hours in the city and my hair sprung out in curls no chi iron will ever hold down.

– This was the first time since Freckles was born almost 10 years ago that DH and I have been alone for more than one night.  All the good intentions in the world aren’t getting me up in the morning to run during that.  The alarm went off each morning and every single time finding DH in the super huge king-size bed and cuddling back for a few more minutes sleep next to him seemed infinitely more appealing.  At the time I felt guilty.  I got over it.  Now that we are back to life I am so glad I did.

– I have been spoiled by rental cars, heated seats and climate control.  My 2002 Winstar with the broken key fob and the back gate that only occasionally unlocks just isn’t stacking up anymore.

– I am completely and hopelessly in love with the man who still opens my car door, holds my hair back when I’m sick in public and instinctively takes the side of the bed closest to the door in case of murderers or zombies.  How could I not be?  

– In a month I am moving to a city that I both visited for the first time and bought a house in just last week.  Does that seem crazy to anyone else?

Which brings me to this week, as life and reality comes back to our lives.  The house was purchased.  The move is final.  All that’s left is to book the hotels for the road trip and wait for the packers.

Oh, and to run 21k.

That’s right, I decided also to make this the year/month/week that I would attempt my first half marathon.

I mean, why not, I didn’t have anything else to do…..

This particular race happens at the Base DH works at.  (And I use the term ‘race’ lightly.  Some people are racing.  I am planning to finish.)

It is called “Loops for Troops”  it is the Edmonton version of the Calgary 5k that I have run for the past several years.

I wrote about my reasons for running at all at this post here.  You should read it.  It was a gooder.

But let me tell you about what motivates me to run this year here in Edmonton.  Because I wasn’t sure I could think of one before I went on this trip.  A run to support military families…. but aren’t WE one?  I wasn’t feeling to fond of the title this month anyways…

But on our way home from our House Hunting, we had to fly out of Ottawa (which for you American friends, is the Capital of Canada).  For the first time, DH and I went to the National War Museum.

I had spent the better part of the day bracing myself for what I was sure would be the emotional roller coaster of the museum, especially when getting to the war in Afghanistan.

Well, turns out they don’t have that war included yet.

But they do have amazing displays of all the other conflicts involving Canadians or on Canadian soil since the first settlers arrived.  That’s a lot of bloodshed.

And while wandering silently through the exhibit on WWII I came across this one piece of paper behind glass that stopped me in my tracks.

Because as an army wife, I’m afraid my priorities have been off.  I’m afraid I have not counted my blessings they way I should have.  In all my bitching about timings, about relocation agents and field exercises and  the seeming lack of info that I seem to be able to receive when I need it…. I get a little flustered in my own self-righteous idea of what I am entitled to.

And then…

Oh.

For this family, this mother, there was only this.

For this father and the tens of thousands of parents and wives and children of Canadian soldiers who were lost in WWII, there was
just.
this.
letter.

For those years their soldier/sailor/airman was gone, all his family would have received was handwritten letters.  No texting.  No phone calls.  No email.

There was certainly no Skype.

When the wife of a soldier was at her wits end, pregnant, giving birth, raising her children for YEARS alone while she waited, there were no formal support groups.  No fancy books on raising kids through deployment.  No Elmo videos.

When the worst happened, this was all she would receive.

There was no Notification Party to hold his mom when she started to cry. There was no Accompanying Officer to work the family through the system.

A lot has changed from that war to this last one.

Everyone has their own reasons to support a cause.  I believe I found mine for this run.

We might be a military family, but by the end of this post, I feel like we are a pretty blessed one.

Those families, the ones who had nothing to hold onto but this telegram…

I believe that even despite the HHT, the copious amount of yummy patio food and the mornings I rolled over and hugged DH closer instead of getting up and training…

I can run for them.

https://www.runningroom.com/dashboard/donations/index.php?raceId=7591&eventId=23746&memberId=UjEANw9oUDVWPwY1Aj0%3D&item=8&guest=1

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