Stay Away From Easy

I’m a sucker for the 90’s action movies. Jurassic Park, Hook, Tremors: they had maximum adrenaline without blatant swearing and sex intermingled with everything. One of my favorites is Independence Day. At one point, one of the main characters, David, is having a breakdown over the events of the movie, and his father is trying to “talk him off a ledge” metaphorically. David has lost his marriage, seen thousands of people die and knows that the entire human race is about to be destroyed by aliens. In the face of imminent annihilation, David’s father responds, “[At least] you still have your health!”

At least. In discussion with a friend the other day, he told me that “at least” in his mind is the worst phrase in the English language. Essentially what it means is that we’re not willing to validate whatever is being said or presented as a problem. As someone who craves validation, and needs little else to be sustained, I have to agree with him.

I’m an avid runner; there’s nothing that makes me happier or brings me better stress relief. I typically run about 25 miles a week and participate in several races every year. About 9 months ago, I injured my knee on a normal run and haven’t been able to run for more than 5 minutes without excruciating pain ever since then. I’ve done everything that I’ve been told, stumped multiple doctors, been dropped by my physical therapist because he ran out of ideas, and essentially am no closer to finding a solution. Whenever someone asks me about my next race and I start explaining my situation, I inevitably get a response along the lines of, “At least you can still walk. At least you’re still healthy. At least you haven’t done something really horrible to it. At least you can find something else to love.” While I know these people mean well, and while intellectually I know that they are right, it doesn’t mean that I don’t feel emotional and physical pain in association with this trial. It doesn’t mean that I’m being silly or petty or stupid. It’s real pain to me: it’s a real struggle. I have shed more tears over this injury than over most of my lost loves.

I don’t like the phrase “at least” for another reason too: I often use it to justify mediocrity in myself. When I don’t do as well as I should have – “At least I tried. Lots of people didn’t even try; I must be better than them.” When I do something I know I shouldn’t have – “At least I didn’t do something as horrible as that person. At least my bad choices don’t hurt a lot of people. I could have done something much worse; I must be better than them.”

I believe this line of thinking is destructive because we’re creating a measuring stick and shoving it next to people, including ourselves. A measuring stick for pain, strength, trials and other intangibles that were never meant to be measured or compared. Additionally, the very phrase means “at a minimum” meaning that I’m searching for the very worst case scenario and trying to be grateful that I’m not there. There is always something worse: it’s hardly something to aim for. I feel like it’s faking gratitude that we haven’t fallen as hard as somebody else, which is possibly the most uncharitable attitude one can have.

Real gratitude is something completely different. Real gratitude means being willing to try again and a little harder tomorrow. It means letting your challenges make you more tough and tender. It means being patient when those around you are struggling, because you remember what your struggles have done for you. It means, in the words of Sherrie Dew, that “…you can be frustrated with the delay without being worried about the outcome.” It means finding joy in the journey, lifting where you stand and genuinely believing with all your heart that things will work out eventually.

At least, that’s what I think.

The One Choosing to Love

My parents just returned from serving a mission for their church, and with their return came my entire family to visit. To put it in perspective, it's over 50 people. Days were spent with outings, eating, changing diapers, quick conversations in passing and staying up too late just enjoying each others' company. As I observed the bustle of each family my siblings have formed, I was struck by how different each marriage and family seems to function, and yet they all do in fact function. Different communication, discipline, schedules, habits and dietary restrictions, but overall a lot of love. That's what I've felt this week: the unconditional love of people who think the world of each other and don't withhold it.

My niece a.k.a. The Baby Whisperer

C.S. Lewis said, "Everyone feels benevolent if nothing happens to be annoying him at the moment." Frequently this is how the media portrays true love: in it's glory moments. The times when everyone's hair is perfect, no one has been crying, the crisis has passed, declarations have been made and true love's kiss experienced. The credits roll and we walk out feeling warm and fuzzy and sighing. Ok . . . maybe that's just me. But the fact of the matter is that this only represents a small portion of true love. In fact, the part of true love that fades away. Disease, death, work troubles, depression, bad hair days, and life interrupt moments where everyone looks and feels perfect. That's when true love, unconditional love kicks in. That's when you have to choose it.

Unconditional. I love that word for some reason. It's probably because I love absolutes. I love physics and math and statistics because they are predictable; they are stable. In reality, nothing is absolute. (Irony? Maybe.) Even the laws of physics change because our understanding of them changes. Statistical modeling can be incorrect. People and markets and nature are irrational. Unconditional love is an amazing concept, but it only comes through the power of choice. And not one choice, but a succession of choices. Choosing every single day to look past the insanity of life and pain and disappointment and humanity, and then choosing to actively love people no matter what. "The only way love can last a lifetime is if it's unconditional. The truth is this: love is not determined by the one being loved but rather by the one choosing to love."

The greatest compliment I ever received was a friend who once told me, "I love that you're so human. And you're not afraid of it." While I disappoint myself on a regular basis, I'm not afraid of the fact that I'm not perfect. And I'm not afraid of the humanity of the people around me. I wish we would all allow each other the room to be human, to make mistakes, to learn and grow, and then forgive and move forward. "To enter heaven is to become more human than you ever succeeded in being on earth; to enter hell is to be banished from humanity." I will make mistakes every day. As long as they are different ones than I made yesterday, I'm getting somewhere. Please just allow me to be human.

Unconditional love doesn't mean that we don't want the people we love to become their best. On the contrary, "Love, in it's own nature, demands the perfecting of the beloved." Loving someone unconditionally means that we desire the very best for them and of them. "Love may, indeed, love the beloved when her beauty is lost; but not because it is lost. Love may forgive all infirmities and love still in spite of them: but love cannot cease to will their removal." In a similar fashion, our Heavenly Father loves us with all he has, he allows us to make mistakes so that we can grow and become the eternal, perfect beings he sees we have the potential to become.

Perhaps it's a romantic notion; perhaps it is unrealistic. But in all my searching and dating, ultimately this is what I am looking for: someone to choose me. Everyday. Even on my bad hair days.

My crazy, wonderful friends, who teach me every day
what it is to accept patiently the things that are not ideal about life.

Accept Who You Are; And Revel In It

There are so many things I love about having a big family. Constant noise, learning from others' mistakes, always having a best friend around and feeling loved even if you tripped flat on your face in front of your crush earlier. As we've gotten older, it's harder to stay in touch and I need to do a much better job. Talking with one of my amazing brothers last night and catching him up on my latest relationship disaster, he was giving me the perspective that my older siblings always bring to my life. We talked about how much I've been able to see and do and become in the past 10 years and how the man I would have married then would be very different than the man I would marry now. He tentatively suggested, "I don't think you were as confident back then as you are now."

It made me think. My confidence really has come in the past 4 years. I am amazingly aware and proud of the fact that I am unique. And I love it. I came home from my mission with confidence. I love the gospel completely. I had learned Spanish and loved and served with all my heart and soul and learned that I had the self discipline to live a life style that removed all my stress relievers and then stressed me out to the max.

The next step to my confidence was finding a diet and exercise plan that actually worked for me and for the first time in my life, losing weight. I came home from my mission, got a job, got back into school, and lost weight. Hours and hours in the basement gym in my parent's house and learning to say no - it has truly changed my life.

The top is on my mission. The bottom is when I finally felt like I
had earned the right to wear horizontal stripes.

The next step to my confidence surprised me when I figured it out. My confidence came from my heartbreaks. I was shocked by that revelation, because I've always just assumed heartbreak is what's created my walls and my baggage (which is true) but I never would have guessed that it's made me confident in me. There are four men who have broken my heart. Many others that might have come close if we had kept going, and many others whose heart I broke, but these four men changed me so much.

The first man was much like me. Our relationship was calm and easy. He taught me to love running, to explore and do things that made me nervous, and to be independently interested in whatever I want. To glory in the things I love - the things I "geek" love. It's a beautiful thing. When he walked away, I wanted to tell him that I had fallen in love with him, just so I could say it once, but I didn't. He left, but the running didn't. I realized I loved it even without him. That I was strong and persistent and capable.

The second was flashy. He was good looking, intelligent, smooth talking and we had amazing chemistry on every level. I was swept off my feet and fell madly in love with abandon, certain that he was the one. When he walked away, he told me that he had never loved me; that he had only said what he thought I wanted to hear to get what he wanted in the moment. While it crushed me, I walked away from him and never looked back. I learned that I don't have to give everything to someone who asks for it - that it's ok to play my cards as I see fit rather than flash them to the whole room.

The third was the complete opposite of everything I am. Totally yellow personality, doesn't like to talk about emotions, terrified of commitment and I loved that stuff about him. His fun loving personality offset my need for order and kept me calm. We couldn't communicate well to save our lives, and it slowly and painfully fell apart. When we were saying our goodbyes, he told me that I was too honest and open - that I needed to be more mysterious and not tell everyone what I'm feeling all the time because it's too much. As soon as he said that, I stood taller. I love that about myself - I've worked hard to be as open and honest as I am. I learned that it's ok to be unapologetic if someone thinks my personality is wrong.

And the last was perfect. We had the same background, same interests, same desires, same personalities, same family stories. It was so blissfully easy for us - for the first time, I wasn't stressed or worried about what he was thinking or when I would see him again because I knew he would call and it would be great. Out of the blue, he called and said that God had told him to not date me anymore. In spite of my begging him to give me the actual reason, he wouldn't. I'll never know what really happened there, but I learned that some parts of my life are going to be completely dependent on someone else's free agency. There is a beautiful confidence in knowing that I've done everything I can, that I have given every good thing about me, and then if someone still doesn't want me, that isn't actually my fault and it's not actually because I'm deficient.

So, so grateful for my heartbreaks. For the moments when I looked on my shattered world and literally didn't think I would ever feel better again. Because I did. And I learned. And I became a little more tough and tender.

Motherhood . . . An Act of Infinite Optimism

One of my sisters was determined to get in with the cool kids at school. She begged my mother, an extremely talented seamstress, to make a homemade version of the type of outfit the cool kids wore. On her first day wearing her new clothes, she strode up to where they were playing basketball and asked in a loud voice if she could play with them. They ignored her. She asked again with similar results. Finally, she shouted as loud as she could, "Can I play with you???" The boy with the basketball stopped dribbling, turned around and said, "No." That afternoon, she recounted the experience to my mother, fully expecting to be smothered with sympathy and statements akin to, "Oh, what evil children they are!" Instead, the response was, "Oh honey - now you know what that feels like. I hope you never treat anyone that way."

Girl's Camp - a testament of the love of both my parents.

Such was my mother. An educator by profession, an educator always. She took every opportunity to teach her children and those around her about how to love and treat each other better. She was always so focused on making other people happy. In my naive teenage mind, it never occurred to me that she wouldn't beat cancer. It would be an inconvenience, of course, but she was mom. Nothing could get her down.

Shelly Kay Smith Sawaya - she had the most gorgeous handwriting and way of signing her name. I used to love to watch her sign her name on checks at the grocery store, certain that my signature would automatically look as amazing as hers when I got older. (For the record, that didn't happen. Legibility is usually my one and only goal.) She had a laugh that would fill the whole room, but she was always more interested in listening to what other people had to say rather than speaking herself. The easiest way to find her was to start at the phone base and follow the cord around the house, because she was the best listener and everyone would call to talk to mom. We had a phone cord longer than any phone cord I've ever seen - she could get to almost any spot on the first level of the house.

After she passed away, my sister made each of us signs with "Things Mom Used to Say." "If it doesn't move, it doesn't matter." "What I like best is you." "You're a good man, Charlie Brown." "Will this matter in 50 years?" Mom was focused on choices. She believed that we had our own destiny in our hands, and that we chose that destiny every day in the way we lived and the way we treat people. "Living the gospel is an exercise of will." She talked about love and how we had to actively find ways to love and serve the people around us. "It takes effort on our part to properly love . . . our families."

I wish I knew her better as a person. My memories of her have the fog of innocent childhood and the curtain of teenage rebellion around them. I learn more about her through the memories of my siblings, my father, her friends, and the 60 page spiritual journey she wrote before she passed away. Her faith in the gospel of Jesus Christ amazes me. She knows. One cannot read her words and doubt that she knows the truth of what she is saying. Perhaps the "mom quote" that has shaped my life is the most is this: "If when I die I discover that Joseph Smith is a hoax and that none of this is true, it will not matter. I would still live my life exactly as I have. Living the gospel of Jesus Christ is the only way to have happiness in this life."

"We do not always know where our blessings may come from." One of the greatest blessings of my life is having the example of this righteous, beautiful, deeply strong woman to guide me through life's paths. Love you mom. Happy Mother's Day.

Love this lady. Forever.

30 Before 30 Bucket List

Life is marked in many ways. The passage of time, aging, the world changing around us. But, as Ayn Rand said, “Achieving life is not the same as avoiding death.” On the days when I feel as though I’ve accomplished nothing in my life, it helps me to think back on the goals I’ve set for myself that I was actually able to achieve. I love lists, I love checking things off, and I still use a paper planner that I can write things in (much to the consternation of my friends).

Hence, when I heard one of my friends had created a “25 Before 25” bucket list, I jumped on the idea. So, here is my 30 Before 30 Bucket List. I have a traditional bucket list, but that is a post for another day. More than anything, these things help me track progress, give me a sense of fulfillment, and push me outside my comfort zone. “What you get by achieving your goals is not as important as what you become by achieving your goals.”

Before Shot

After Shot. Yes, it's supposed to be abstract.

My 30 Before 30 Bucket List (created and started July 2013)

1. Participate in 30 Races
2. Work in 30 Different Temples
3. Read 30 Books
4. Olympic Length Triathlon
5. Learn Archery
6. Learn 30 Songs on the Guitar
7. Random Act of Kindness for a Stranger 
8. Paint
9. Learn 30 Arabic Phrases
10. Take a Dance Class
11. Hike Mt. Timpanogos
12. Learn to Fire a Gun
13. Run a Marathon
14. Visit Disney World
15. Visit New York
16. Watch the top 10 Movies on AFI’s 100 Greatest Movies
17. Write a Newspaper Article and Get Published
18. Watch a Movie in a Drive In
19. Try 30 New Recipes
20. Visit one of the Madame Tussauds Museums
21. Record dad reading Dr. Suess
22. Record dad’s thoughts on life
23. Try 30 New Restaurants
24. Drive a Race Car
25. Ride a Segway
26. Visit Hawaii
27. Get CPR Certified
28. Learn to Tie a Tie
29. Order Room Service 
30. Get a New Job

Some of them are easier than others – I’m already on book 20 for goal number 3 – but I’ve enjoyed working my way through them and imagining ways to accomplish the others. Rita Mae Brown said, “We animals live life in all its glorious uncertainty.” Here’s to living life to its fullest.

As You Wish

Someone recently spent a year interviewing couples of all backgrounds and longevity. The results from his study were interesting, and not entirely surprising. The secrets to happiness in marriage were things like choosing to be happy no matter what, putting your spouse first, being willing to communicate. At the end of article I read, he quoted a woman who had been happily married for 50 years. When asked what the secret to happiness in marriage was, she paused for a moment and responded, “Don’t be afraid to be the one who loves the most.”

To love someone is the greatest emotion I have ever felt. To have that loved returned is so beautiful, so overwhelmingly amazing. I love the phrase, “I didn’t know that I could love someone that much” because that’s exactly how love feels. The more you give, the more it grows. It’s infinite. Tyler Knott Gregson described it, “And you loved me like I was and had always been the answer and the question did not and would never matter.”

But to love is to be vulnerable. Mitch Albom wrote, “Vulnerability is the only authentic state. Being vulnerable means being open, for wounding, but also for pleasure. Being open to the wounds of life means also being open to the bounty and beauty. Don’t mask or deny your vulnerability: it is your greatest asset. Be vulnerable: quake and shake in your boots with it. the new goodness that is coming to you, in the form of people, situations, and things can only come to you when you are vulnerable…”

One of the most selfless couples I've ever known.

The loud voices in the world would have us believe that we must always be in control, that we must always have the upperhand. A movie trailer I watched recently exclaimed that the first person to say “I love you” is the one who gets broken in the relationship. Taking that leap is the most terrifying thing, especially when you don’t know if they person you are falling towards will catch you. But it is only in taking risks in life that we have success. Terri Clark wrote, “If this love has any chance at all, someone has to be the first to fall.”

“The strongest love is the love that can demonstrate its fragility.” I’ve watched my friends and family find and build strong, beautiful marriages. They are all different personalities and they live in very different circumstances. But the one thing that I see in common is that they are not afraid of loving the people in their families. They are not afraid of being the one who loves more.

What a beautiful thing. Worth waiting for.

Toughness is in the Soul

I’ve always been a big girl. One of my earliest memories of elementary school was sitting on a swing and the boy next to me calling me fat. It would be easy to blame it on something like bad habits and a sedentary lifestyle, but my mother was one of the healthiest cooks I’ve ever met. We had home-cooked meals, homemade lunches, desserts only appeared on special occasions and any request for a snack was met with fruit or vegetables. My parents had us work hard and play hard: we maintained a garden as a family, spent our summer vacations hiking through the gorgeous Utah mountains and were encouraged to participate in as many sports as we could fit into our schedules. I did ballet, gymnastics, basketball, track, cross country . . . always healthy, just not skinny.

My "before" shot on my mission, at my peak weight.

Things got drastically worse on my mission. In a culture where vegetables rarely appear, carbs are the norm, and everything has a healthy dose of oil and mayonnaise, my diet went out the window. Add in the stress of being a missionary, and my weight got out of control. I came home determined to change. I had never been able to lose weight easily, but I had some extremely good help along the way, and I worked hard to lose 60 pounds.

Not your typical "after" shot, but you get the idea. And he's cute.

I wanted to start my blog this way because I want everyone to understand how much it means to me to be healthy. I know how hard it is to lose weight. I know what it’s like to feel unhealthy. I know what that struggle can feel like, and I know the amazing feeling of accomplishment when you finally hit that illusive weight goal.

But something in our culture is wrong. Because “fat-shaming” is a word that we all recognize. Because Jennifer Lawrence stands out in Hollywood as one of the only actresses proud of the way she looks right now. Because we can pay to have our children’s school photos airbrushed. Because women are pushing other women to look and act a certain way, just to try to achieve something that’s shoved in our faces every time we check out at the grocery store.

I went into the gym several months ago for a free training session. I like to try new things, and it seemed a waste to not at least give it a shot. As I sat down with the trainer, he had me fill out a sheet with my height and weight, and then asked me what my “fitness goals” were. I explained that I had just run a half marathon and was training for a triathlon, so I was pretty happy as I was but that I wanted to just increase speed and endurance and do better at cross training. He then proceeded to try to shame me into purchasing training sessions, explaining that I was obese according to his wall chart. I stared at him, dumbfounded, and explained that I was spending 1-2 hours every day training, that I felt fantastic and was happy with how I looked. He insisted that until I fit within the dimensions of his chart, I was obese, unhealthy and could never improve my way of life. I powered through the next 45 minute training session solely on anger. I wanted to scream at him, “My roommate called me “one of those crazy running people” two days ago! I’ve worked so hard and come so far! I’m happy and I feel good; why isn’t that enough???”

My most recent triathlon, where I blew my PR out of the water. Pun intended.

Don’t get me wrong – I could do a lot better. I love food. I love unhealthy food. A guy I was dating once said, “I think you appreciate food more than most people do.” While editing my online dating profile, one of my sisters told me I might want to remove a few of the references to food, since it kind of looked like I’m obsessed. One of my favorite parts of racing is the carb loading the night before, and the fact that the day after a race, I feel justified in eating whatever I want. I could eat a few less pizzas each year. I could avoid desserts more frequently. I could cook more and eat out less. 

But here’s the thing: that’s MY decision. That’s MY choice. That is between me and my body and my soul. And we’ll handle things on our own.

Sometimes, the goal of a picture is to make yourself look as ugly as possible.

Let's also mention that my value in life is not what's on the scale. I work hard, I play hard. I've made amazing friends, I've traveled all over the world, I've started and ended many relationships, I've made good choices and stupid choices, I've learned, I've grown, I've changed. Can we focus on the other stuff in our lives besides how much weight we put on over our cruise? "To be heroic is to be courageous enough to die for something; to be inspirational is to be crazy enough to live a little."

Best friends, on a trip to South Africa.

 There was a lot of buzz going around about a young mother who posted a shot of her gorgeous body with her three small children with the question, “What’s Your Excuse?” Again, please don’t misunderstand. If that’s what makes her feel good – fantastic! Good for her! I’m amazed by her will power and dedication and I’m glad that makes her happy! But I take issue with her trying to guilt others. Why, why, why do we do this to each other? Yes, obesity is a problem. Yes, we need to find ways to fix it as a society. But heralding physical perfection as the only option is not the solution.

I don’t know the solution honestly. I’ve found mine: I just listen to my body and my heart and act accordingly. Sometimes my heart really, really wants a burger and fries and I listen. Sometimes my body craves a 12 mile run, and I’m happy to oblige. Sometimes they both want a huge dark green veggie salad with light Italian dressing and we all win.

Can’t we all just take a step back and stop judging? Let’s just worry about our own happiness, and trying to make the world around us a little bit better. Taryn Brumfitt says on her blog, “Health is not dictated by your looks. Health is physical, emotion and spiritual and so much more that is not visible and not always obvious to others.” (I LOVE her stuff – see her blog here: http://bodyimagemovement.com.au/)

Kumbaya!!