And We Run [Ice Age Trail 50 Race Report]

You have GOT to be kidding me. Two miles in? Already? No. NO. Too bad. This is it. I’m all in. 

I’m doing this. 

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heading out around 6am on the nordic ski trail at the beginning of the ice age trail 50.

MILES 1 – 10.68 >> NORDIC SKI TRAIL LOOP

Saturday morning May 11, just six months after running my first ultra marathon, the Wild Duluth 50k on the Superior Hiking Trail – and swearing 27 miles into it that I would never, EVER entertain such a horrible idea ever again – I laced up my shoes for my second ultra, the Ice Age Trail 50 Mile race in the Kettle Morraine State Forest near La Grange, WI. I was poorly prepared and fairly convinced I’d DNF. Finishing under 12 hours was my only goal. 

Since the WD50k, I hadn’t given my body the rest it wanted and needed. Instead, I signed up the very next day for the Ice Age 50, figuring if I could just sustain my fitness level I’d be fine. So over the course of the last six months, I overtrained and endured various ongoing injuries ranging from IT band issues in November and December, to metatarsal stress reactions in January and February, to running a half marathon on a sprained ankle in March and re-spraining it two weeks before the IA50.

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underCover: “Lovesong”

About a year ago, my brilliant guitarist husband (Paul Koopman) and I worked out what we think is a great cover of The Cure’s ageless wonder, “Lovesong.” 

I’ve always been moved by the song’s simplicity. Lyrically, it’s nothing terribly fancy, and yet it says everything we want to say to and hear from our lovers. Full of that agape/eros love that’s totally invested, utterly vulnerable, and completely unconditional.

However far away…However long I stay…Whatever words I say…I will always love you.

There’s this magic to it. This real-life base that cautions even as it guarantees: We won’t always be together, some times will be shorter than others, and in the together and apart, I will absolutely inevitably say things that hurt you… 

But.

I will always love you. 

These promises are tucked into the reality that is Love: When I’m alone with you, I’m whole and at home. I feel young and wild, like a kid in a candy shop. I feel free. And clean. 

This song is the epitome of the hope inherent to Love.

There are songs every songwriter wishes she wrote, and this is one of the grandest for me. If I had written this song, I’d feel no need to ever write again. It says everything, perfectly. 

We love the song. And so we who never cover songs decided we ought to cover it. And we ought to make it as emotive and vulnerable as possible. 

And thus, we give you our cover of “Lovesong.” 

Running and Other Impossible Feats

 

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It started as a weight loss obsession; my utterly unhealthy have-to-get-skinny response to my sister dropping major weight after having two babies. I’d always felt inferior and ugly. For as long as I can remember, I’ve had what’s now called “body dysmorphic disorder” – that awesome head condition where what you see in the mirror is totally unreal, but which motivates you to do whatever it takes to see what you really want to see (which will never, ever happen, because the problem isn’t what you’re looking at, but the eyes with which you’re looking). 

But, thanks to my hyper-competitive nature, her weight loss rocketed me to new levels of self-loathing. I felt fat. I felt disgusting. And so when I began running, it was from a place of self-hate. I ran to burn calories. I ran to see how many calories I could burn while consuming as few as possible. I’d placed myself on a 600-calorie-per-day diet – and was terrified of maxing my daily calorie budget – while running daily to burn 500 at minimum. 

I was full-on anorexic. 

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Dreams and Deliverance

All rights reserved by Ryan Montgomery [source: flickr]

“underwater 1″ | All rights reserved by Ryan Montgomery [source: flickr]

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had one superpower in my dreams. I don’t fly. Flying terrifies me. Even if I’m riding on a particularly strong and sure dragon, I lack the confidence to remain peaceably in the air. And more often than not, the dragon gets very angry with me because I’m clinging so tightly to its scales as to cause pain. To a dragon. But water? I can do water. When I swim in my sleep, I’m afraid for about three seconds until I realize I can breathe under water. And it’s amazing. Exhilarating. Magical. 

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May The Words Of My Mouth…

source: googleimages
source: googleimages

“You’re familiar with the command to the ancients, ‘Do not murder.’ I’m telling you that anyone who is so much as angry with a brother or sister is guilty of murder. Carelessly call a brother ‘idiot!’ and you just might find yourself hauled into court. Thoughtlessly yell ‘stupid!’ at a sister and you are on the brink of hellfire. The simple moral fact is that words kill.” (Matt. 5:21-22, Msg) 

“Quick, God, I need your helping hand! …Everyone talks in lie language; lies slip off their oily lips. …Into the hovels of the poor, Into the dark streets where the homeless groan, God speaks: ‘I’ve had enough; I’m on my way to heal the ache in the heart of the wretched.’ God’s words are pure words, pure silver refined seven times… God, keep us safe from their lies, from the wicked who stalk us with their lies…” (Psalm 12, Msg)

One of my New Years Resolutions for 2013 is to read – and complete – one of those Bible in a Year plans. So here I am, on Day 15, and it seems much of what I read was about words. The power of words. The gravity of the things we say. 

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Winter in Bloom: New Ink

Sounds weird, right? Nothing blooms in winter.

So last Summer, as I considered what I wanted to get for my new tattoo – the all-important, representing-my-life-and-it’s-many-woes-and-wins-since-Eli-was-born ink – I ran the gamut. Flowers? Dead flowers? A specific plant that blooms once and then dies, but in its bloom is utterly magnificent? And how to represent the family around it? Birds. Okay, birds. But what birds? What kind of bird would Paul be? And Matt? And Eli?

Well, finally, I settled and simplified and landed on a barren tree – you know, for barren me – with four little nondescript birds hanging around, one of which would be flying away (because, you know, Matt’s 15 now and about to…fly…away…).

I scheduled the appointment for the weekend after my birthday with an artist in Nashville. He’d done my Amaro-Rwot tattoo, which I love Love LOVE, so naturally I assumed this one would be equally awesome. Right?

Wrong:

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From the Ground Up

For a good long while now, I’ve been admiring my friend Jen Woodhouse’s incredible creativity from near and far. She’s a gifted singer/songwriter, an incredible mother, a phenomenal cook, and – dun dun dun – she builds stuff. Like, really really cool stuff. Not just weird crap. She builds massive Restoration-Hardware-esque end tables and wine cabinets.

And I jealously wished I could do it too. Then she introduced me to ana-white.com and her thousands and thousands and thousands of DIY plans for every imaginable piece of furniture, and I thought, “Huh. Maybe I could do something like that.”

Plus…well, I’m a stay at home mom, and sometimes, just sometimes, I worry that I’m not really contributing enough to our house and home. And this…well, this was a way that I could do something. Something that not only saves us money (it’s significantly cheaper to build a knock-off Restoration Hardware bench or a dining room table or a headboard than it is to buy one, as it turns out…) but can also maybe become an heirloom for our kids – the product of our own sweat and sawdust, a lesson on how to live simpler lives using our own hands.

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“You Are My Beloved, On You My Favor Rests”

Being the Beloved expresses the core truth of our existence.
…Listening to that voice with great inner attentiveness, I hear at my center words that say, 
I have called you by name, from the very beginning.

You are mine and I am yours.
You are my Beloved, on you my favor rests.
I have molded you in the depths of the earth and knitted you together in your mother’s womb.
I have carved you in the palms of my hands and hidden you in the shadow of my embrace.

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I Am An Ultra-Marathoner (eeeeee!)

The Beginning. 7am. Sunrise on Spirit Mountain. Incredible

Three years in the making. That’s what yesterday’s achievement was.

Achievement? I’m not sure that’s the right word. It felt so much more colossal than that, and yet…so much less. At the finish, I simultaneously felt like I hadn’t done anything all that incredible, and like I’d conquered the universe.

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The Outrageous Call

“When being is separated from doing, pious thoughts become an adequate substitute for washing dirty feet.” (brennan manning)

If you’ve followed my journey at all these past few weeks or read my earlier blog, “The Tomb, The Womb, The Imposter, and The Beloved,” you know God’s been teaching me some new things, and that He’s leading me on a new adventure.

But it’s not brand new.

A few years ago, before going to Africa, before meeting and then touring with Jennifer Knapp and Derek Webb, before having a baby and moving to Minneapolis and watching things rearrange themselves around me, I embarked on a month-long tour up the West Coast with a fellow indie artist. When we set out for that month, we had a total of three paying shows booked at a few churches, and about ten non-paying gigs booked at prisons, youth detention centers, and homeless shelters.. We were renting a car for the entirety of the tour, and didn’t have enough guaranteed income to cover even that. There were moments of fear and wondering how everything was going to come together, but over all I was actually incredibly excited to see what God was up to.

Because I knew in the depths of my being, to the marrow in my bones, that this tour was precisely what God wanted me to do.

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