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When Grace Runs Out, Find a Driver

About a year ago, or maybe even more, I got off the phone with my sister Tracey and my cheeks were burning; she had vented some frustration to me over my seemingly endless and nauseating amounts of grace and forgiveness. She had reached her max as far as extending grace to people in her own life and she called me up needing an accomplice, not a counselor.

Months later, I get it. I feel like I’ve woken up in the same way that I woke up when I heard my dad say, “Suzy thinks she can save the world.” So last Friday night when I called Tracey, she knew I needed an accomplice. Well, and I pretty much stated exactly what I planned to do and what time she should meet me and where. “I’ll bring the can of tuna,” I told her and she replied with, “I’ll be the driver.”

I ran out of grace.

Of course I’m not going to smear tuna under the driver’s side handle of anyone’s car door, and of course I’m not going to list off all the horrible injustices that have been done to me because a) I’d open up a can of something a lot worse than tuna and b) I’d probably get my ass sued faster than I can hide my huge hair behind a parked car. But mostly I’m not going to be an asshole in return because it makes me feel good to not be an asshole, and I like making myself feel good (what’s a post without a double entendré?!).

It’s not about grace. Because being gracious would mean being forgiving, moving toward the assholes, allowing them to move toward me, sharing a meal with them without secretly putting pubic hair into their spaghetti sauce, things like that. No. No no no. Grace is lovely. Grace is strong. Grace is a gift, it’s a champion, it’s beautiful. But sometimes it runs out, and that’s okay.

Or maybe that’s just what grace is: not putting pubic hair into someone’s spaghetti sauce.

Do you have any good revenge stories?

Do you know how to speak Pig Latin?

Tracey is going to get me back for this… <3 <3



Pregnant and Running: 17 Week Update

Man oh man, did my belly ever add on some additions to this sweet little baby’s home this past week! Closed in the sunroom, added a den off the main, an ensuite to the master, and is that a hot tub on the new balcony, or did the toilet in the main bath have another flood? In other words? Belly went BOOM. Baby packed on a solid happy meal or two because I can feel its legs and arms giving my insides the ol’ whatfor. I can feel it from the outside now, and even Katie felt it too!

Here are the down and dirty stats, the only things anyone really cares about, right? 99% of you don’t give an reticulated python about what I’m craving or whether or not I’ve painted the nursery. For what it’s worth, we don’t have a nursery. The baby will sleep nestled up beside me and my over-productive boobies and drown in breastmilk for the first year of its life. Callum is barely out of our room, so I have no doubt we’ll be sharing our marriage chambers with a bunk bed and some Power Rangers for a couple more years. #dreambig

I weigh 126 lb. I dropped a pound, and you know what? It’s FINE. Because I can visibly see the size of my belly growing and I can physically feel the baby getting big enough to kung fu my colon. It’s healthy, I’m healthy, and we will all make it.

In case you missed it, I did have some issues with the pooper, but it’s worked itself out now. Literally. Other than that I’ve felt great! I am feeling 110% pregnant now, though. It’s like I got sucked out of my old body and put inside a completely different one, which is normal and legit and as it should be. So I am treading lightly, literally, because I can feel my hips more loose and my boobies don’t bounce anymore–they sway. Don’t even try arguing with me when I say that I can feel my child, safe and secure of course, held tightly within my womb, pressing heavily upon my bottom region with each step. It’s not just its weight (not even half a pound yet!) but the increased blood flow, the pressure, the…other stuff. I can feel it all.

If you’re interested, here is my mileage recap for week 17. Why do I keep running? Because I can, and because I love it! It’s why I do most things. I frigging love sports. I’m not going to be an Olympian, but that isn’t a reason to stop practicing my sport. I’ve been squishy and milky, and I’ve been lean with a six pack and wrinkly skin-folds for boobies and I’ve felt exactly as I should be in both circumstances. I love pulling on my leggings and feeling a softness spill over the edges of the back of my waistband. I frigging LOVE it. There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t cup my boobs in my hands and give them some love before I jump into the shower. Bodies are magical. Absolute magic. The lines of my muscles along my thighs, my sunken eyes from giving too much, the sunspots that tattle on my teenage years, they’re all a part of me, and I love it all. I want that for all of us. What a gift. What an undeserving gift, to feel peace like that. My body has weighed 183 lb, and my body has weighed 115 lb and it’s always been Suzy’s eyes looking back at me through the steam of the shower, through the impossibilities, through the pain, through the everything. If I don’t love her, I lose her.

Yeah so, uhhh… I dropped a pound. I can feel the baby move. It’s amazing.

I love you guys. <3


Week in Review: Poo Sue

I wish my Week in Review could be cuter than it is. I wish it could be filled with adorable ultrasound pictures, of Callum holding up his latest playdough creation, or of Jake with his cast off (he got his cast off! and then got strep throat!) or of a deliciously warm slab of homemade bread smothered in melty butter, perched upon the countertop on a red and white checkered towel, highlighted by streams of sunlight pouring through the kitchen window.


The real life Week in Review is not cute despite its adorable host Meghan from Clean Eats Fast Feets. Whomp, here it is:

What an ordeal. I started to develop a wicked stomach ache on Wednesday of last week. Not a nauseous stomach ache but a cramping, gassy one, except without the relief of being able to fart or poop. Almost like throwing a blindfolded teenage boy into a room of naked models. It was awful. I mean, I wasn’t constipated; I had my regular morning poops but then the stomach cramps that would develop during the day were so painful, like my intestines were twisting, and anytime I felt like maybe a fart was developing I’d get so excited, so nervous. Like I’d think okay maybe this will be the fart that makes me feel better! And I’d almost kill it like how we can kill a sneeze if we jinx it with our desperation.

No farts came. No relief. More cramps.

I posted for help on Facebook, asking people about gallstones and everyone was so kind and so helpful but I quickly realized that my issue was not gallbladder related. Plus it felt really gastrointestinal. I could almost feel the matter pushing past a certain spot along my guts that hurt like a MF. My stomach itself, like my actual stomach was so sore, even when I lightly pushed on it from the outside.

And then a hero came along–she gave me strength to carry on.

My friend Tammy, who also happened to be the labour and delivery nurse at Callum’s delivery, messaged me about my stomach pains and she told me that even though I’m still able to poop, I might still have some partial blockage in there that’s causing me pain. Since the pregnant body’s GI tract slows down digestion so much, everything in there gets quite sluggish, even stuck, and often needs help being pushed through with some stool softeners. So, at 7am right after she texted me, I dropped everything (including a poop) and headed to the store. I stirred the powder into a glass of water and waited for the show to begin.


But as the day wore on, my cramps began to die down and by 2pm I was able to do a light short run. When I got back, I ate a few slices of pizza and lo and behold I heard and felt the rumbles within that would bring the with, out. I so wish I put the next 20 minutes on YouTube because I’d have made millions.

No poo, but farts for dayyyyyyyyzzzz. Ridiculously long farts that would go up a note, hold a note, go down a note, and then turn a corner, somersault, and end with a handspring. It was epic.

I did the same thing the next day: drank the drink, waited for the rumbles and did the farts and with each passing hour and blast of gas, my stomach cramps died down from emergent to a second glance and for this, I am forever indebted to Tammy.

Thank you, Tammy, for helping me. Thank you to my friends and family who messaged me privately with encouragement, suggestions, and jokes. Thank you to my readers for loving me through so many poo posts, and thank you to my number one fan, my number one contributor towards both my ability to poo and to write about it, my Daddoo. Always, your Poo Sue.

How badly do you want those pants? Or the bike called Lightening?

How safe do I look back there, eh?

Give me another metaphor besides a blindfolded teenage boy in a room filled with naked models.



Mileage Monday: Spring Break, Poo, and a Deer Head

I managed to keep up my mileage despite some severe stomach issues; I’ll go into more detail in tomorrow’s Week in Review post. I hit 62 miles this week and kept up my 3 days of strength work. Like I say every damn week: I haaaate doing the weights and the legs/glute exercises but they’re keeping me healthy and able to run, so I keep at it.

Monday– I ran a really slow 5 miles in the early dark morning and then another swifter 5 in the afternoon while Katie hung out with Callum! I’m making Spring Break work for me. 😉

Tuesday– I ran a really slow 8 miles in the dark early morning before anyone woke up, and then 4 evening miles with Andrew! We’re SO looking forward to going to Arizona!

Wednesday– I didn’t think this run would go so well because I was having stomach issues all day, but once I got out there, I flew! Callum had an hour long nap and Andrew was working from home so I took off for a super hilly 6 mile run.

Thursday– I started to get a sore stomach today, so my 6 morning miles were slow and a bit laboured. I joined Andrew for his 4 miler in the evening because my stomach hurt no matter what I did and at least I’d be able to get out for some fresh air.

Friday– Really really sore stomach. I drove Jake to work really early and then was all dressed to go for a run but my stomach was killing me. My nurse friend suggested I take a stool softener and after I did that, my stomach started to feel better as the day went on.

Saturday– My stomach is a bit better, so I headed outside for a slow 8 mile run. I wanted to do 10 miles but Andrew told me that someone had cut the head off a deer and stuck it on the median on my 10 mile route, so I decided not to go that far.

Sunday– I dropped Jake off at work, had a coffee and a poo and headed out for a 10 mile run. I noticed that my left shin was a bit sore because since my stomach pains I’ve been changing my gait a bit to avoid bouncing too much and I guess my left foot took the brunt of it. Weird! It was barely noticeable so I didn’t worry too much at all. Just interesting. I had to stop for a poo in the bushes on the side of the road at mile 8. I forgot wipes, so I used my gloves. Good thing they only cost me $1.

How sick and twisted are the people/is the person who would do that to a deer head? I actually don’t even really want to talk about it. Tell me about the coolest thing you’ve ever seen on a run, like money, or a full six pack of beer. Tell me something nice.

Have you ever had to take stool softeners?

If you had to choose between a pair of $40 gloves to wipe, or nothing at all, would you use the gloves or finish your run all squidgy?


At the Moment

A lot of my blogger idols do “Currently” posts where they list off all the things they’re currently eating, reading, loving, you know, stuff like that. I sat down to write a serious post but didn’t feel like it so I’m going to do (my version of) a Currently post instead! Hip hip, hooray.

I’ve been currently eating Triple O’s Sunny Start breakfast sandwiches and if it’s after 11am, their Bacon Cheddar burger. I think it’s a Canadian thing, so for everyone else, here are some stolen photos:

See that sauce puddled onto the bottom bun(s)? It’s called Triple O Sauce, and let me tell you, it’s an appropriate name.

I’ve been currently watching The Mindy Project. I know, I know… it’s not popular anymore. But it’s perfect mindless entertainment–something I desperately need in my life, a life otherwise filled with huge decisions, adulting left right and centre, trauma after issue after ordeal and sometimes? I just need to tell my brain to fuck off.

I’ve been currently dealing with fleas. I’ve had cats my entire life and not once have any of them ever had fleas. But Brandy has them. Well, she had them, and then I went ballistic, rolled up all our carpeting and tossed it, dumped anti-flea medication all over her and prayed for an exorcism. It worked! Until I didn’t realize that I was supposed to give her the medication once per month for a minimum of four months. So, here we are all over again.

I’ve been currently ordering these things on Amazon:

Nursing bras, the book Madness: A Bipolar Life, and the book Stop Walking On Eggshells.

I’ve been currently obsessed with the Arizona weather, because Andrew and I are going down there for 3 nights, 4 days in April to run a half marathon. We stare gloomily out our window and then scroll through the forecast for Phoenix and wished we were there already.

I’ve been currently needing to figure out what’s wrong with my GI tract. I’ve been having super bad cramps and I have no idea why. No diarrhea, I am nowhere near constipated, and I can’t even fart. Just cramps in my stomach and all along my intestines. Frig. I’ll have to talk to the doctor about it when I see her next.

What are you guys currently watching, needing, eating, dealing with or obsessed with?



This is How We Do Pregnant Running: The Party’s Here on the Westside

One of the many perks of blogging is being able to sit around in stretchy pants looking like a swamp donkey. I can sip my coffee and eat some pizza and have intelligent (well, that’s a stretch that puts my pants to shame) and thoughtful conversations, and nobody would ever know that I look any different than my filtered, posed selfies from my other social media posts.

Another perk is that we get to write about things we may or may not be qualified to write about. I want to talk to you guys about pregnant running, but I don’t have any journal articles to site or research to document. What I do have however, is my own personal experience:

  1. I’ve been a marathoner since 1998 running anything from the 5K to a 50 mile ultra
  2. I’ve had 5 live pregnancies in the span of 17 years
  3. A BA with a major in Kinesiology
  4. Coaching/Running clinic leadership experience
  5. I’m a high mileage (60-100 miles per week) runner

Sometimes personal experience helps others more than books and research articles. The problem? I have a LOT of experience with pregnancy, running, and pregnant running and there is just no way I’d ever be able to fit it all in one post. I sat here trying to figure out how to sort it all and I decided to just divide it up into pregnancies! I’ll start with Jake.

Jake was conceived in December, 1999 when I was 21 years old. I had done my first marathon in 1998 and so I was still in pretty killer condition from playing varsity soccer and marathon training.

I ran right through and up to week 30 of my pregnancy with Jake. Back then though? I’d say I averaged about 30 miles per week. I never had a single issue until one particular warm day, when I had crammed in a quick trail run, jumped into my Firefly and drove straight over to a nearby pitch to watch Jason’s soccer game. My mom and my mother-in-law were there and as we sat together in the bleachers they noticed that I was having a hard time getting comfortable. I kept complaining of gas pains, and I’d wriggle around a bit every 5 minutes or so. Long story short, they DRAGGED me to the hospital, hauled me straight up to the maternity ward, and made me tell the nurses there what I was feeling. I was mortified because to me, all it felt like were gas bubbles! But sure enough, when they hooked me up to the monitor and checked my cervix, they saw that I was 50% effaced and 1-2 cm dilated (early labour, and not a good sign for a first baby). So I was ambulanced over to a bigger hospital with more NICU support, and given a bunch of medication to stop labour, and injections for Jake’s lungs should he be born at 30 weeks.

Ha. Check out how old everything is!

I stayed there for a week, was on bed rest until 34 weeks, and then my little Jakey was born a week late!!! He’s been giving us all the middle finger ever since. <3

Running itself didn’t put me into labour with Jake. I was dehydrated, and a dry uterus will get irritable and contract (I was legit diagnosed with an irritable uterus!!!) and most of the time all those contractions are doing are practicing for the real deal, but in this particular circumstance, I was so clueless about hydration and what real contractions felt like that I didn’t take the necessary precautions before I suited up and went out for my run.

Lesson #1: Drink shit tonnes of water. Drink so much water that you can’t even imagine leaving your house for a run because there will be nowhere for you to take a leak. If you do end up running, stuff some toilet paper into one of your pockets (foreshadowing to my third pregnancy) in case you need to make an emergency stop. Wear black bottoms in case you pee a little. Underdress. Don’t wear too many layers. Don’t sweat buckets unless you have the resources in your hand to replenish fluid as you go. Keep that uterus happy. If your uterus is happy, everyone is happy. Don’t hold your pee, even if you have to go all the time because a full bladder will also piss off an irritable uterus. Drink lots, pee lots, and if you find the time to run between all that drinking and peeing, you’re a frigging champion.

I have belly pictures from 2 months to 9 months with Jake but I’m in my bra and underwear for all of them! Otherwise I’d show you guys. Maybe I’ll get brave later.

Anyone sick of me writing about pregnancy? Do you miss the poo? Dammit.

Thong or bikini? Anyone out there wear the boy shorts style undies? DO NOT CALL THEM PANTIES OR I WILL DIE.


Pregnant and Running: 16 Week Update

I’m starting to feel pregnant! I’ve got that heavy pressure feeling in my bottom (the bottom refers to that whole general area down there: pelvic floor, vajayjay, bum, womb, etc), and when I run, I can feel the extra weight on my bones. I gained 2lb last week so I’m up to 127lb with a 7lb total weight gain so far. The recommended weight gain for someone with a healthy BMI is 25-35 lb. However, I’ve seen tiny women only gain 20lb and be stuck with an extra 8 lb for months, and other women gain 65 lb and lose it all within a few weeks after delivery. Typically, the first trimester weight gain should hover around the 5lb mark, with 1lb per week in the second trimester, and 0.5lb per week in the third. But, everybody is different. I’m working hard at meeting the weight gain requirements so that I can keep running.

Running is still going really well! Here is my Mileage Monday post that documents last week’s mileage and workouts. I’m really happy with how my running is going. It’s so important to go into prenatal running with a super open mind because anything can happen. There are so many side effects and every woman’s body handles pregnancy differently. My goal is to get to full-term with a healthy baby and a healthy me with an even loftier goal of running right through my entire pregnancy. Wouldn’t that be wicked?

I’ve been averaging 60-plus miles per week so far, which blows my mind. I’ve never really given a shit about food but I do know that if I don’t gain enough weight, that my family and doctors will tell me to stop running and I don’t want that, so I make sure to eat as much and as often as possible. My meals mainly consist of carbs: bread and peanut butter, wraps, avocado rolls, crackers and cheese, veggie soups, tonnes of cereal, chocolate, oatmeal, oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. I drink a lot of 1% white milk and chocolate milk. I also down quite a bit of hot lemon water and sparkling orange flavoured water. I figured out how to curb my middle of the night feeding sessions: I down a bowl of cereal each night right before I go to bed, around 10pm. That way I can sleep all night long without waking up starving at 2am.

I still don’t look pregnant when I wake up in the morning but by the end of the day, my belly poofs out like I’m 6 months along.

I love being pregnant. I love feeling the baby move, I love my boobies, I love my curves. I feel SO SEXY. Like a queen.

It’s so funny when I get out of the shower. After I towel off, I apply Burt’s Bees baby oil everywhere and then I proceed to wrestle my body parts into layers of lycra. I feel like I’m tethering down my wild bits with each piece of clothing from my leggings (I live in LuluLemon leggings) to my big girl bras (I’m already wearing nursing bras because I had to buy a couple sizes up and I may as well invest in some that will work for breastfeeding). Then on goes the long tank-top (it needs to cover the coochie and my bum) and by then, I’m exhausted. But all I have left to do is throw on a hoodie, or if I want to look decent I’ll put on a cardigan and a necklace. My nails are strong, and my hair is huger than ever, thick, wiry, unruly and everywhere, as it should be.

Have I covered everything? There’s so much information I could drown you with! Is there anything specific you’d like me to talk about?







Week in Review: The Week of the Woman

One of my go-to topics of conversation that pops up around my second or third bevvy is the whole feminine/masculine debate. Like, someone might say, “Oh that guy is super feminine–I wonder if he’s gay?” or “That girl is such a tomboy because she dresses so masculine.” And what I like to do, wine in hand or not, is break open people’s minds a bit. Stretch them. It sounds slutty, but it’s not. It’s just me.

If you think I made a mistake with that last line, you’re wrong. I’m just that good of a writer.

My take on it is that nobody has to make a decision and say “Oh hey, I’m a 6 on the feminine scale.” No no no! Okay, wait. I already wrote about this, and I’ll link it up here, and OMG I used to be WAY FUNNIER. What happened? My writing now is LAME AND BORING.

Anyway. I used to be a bit of a man-hater, so I went through this phase where I thought I was a lesbian (leaving out details because my dad reads this), but I’m not, but you can see the picture I’m trying to paint here. I adore women. I love being female. If I got stuck out of my body and saw myself being born with a penis, I’d be really disappointed.

This is supposed to be a Week in Review, hosted by a woman, of course, Meghan from Clean Eats Fast Feets, and so I should probably just write about my week.

Nicole @thegirlwhoraneverywhere posted a treadmill workout and because she’s a bit of an idol of mine, I decided to give her workout a try. I frigging nailed it. But I never would have tried it if I hadn’t first read her post. Women are strong, and inspiring, and hot damn, they’re fast.

I’ve mentioned Marybeth a few times on my blog and that woman’s writing has never ceased to blow my mind. I’m not sure how I scored this, but I get weekly emails from her (I took a course of hers several months ago, so maybe I still get stuff?) and this morning’s piece was ground-breaking. But this was her Instagram post from the middle of the week:

I used to read Denise‘s blog years ago. I think I may have stumbled upon her space when we both had our dreadlocks. You know how there are some people that just soar above the others? Her spirit, her Self, is something just out of this world. She isn’t a person–she’s an experience. I opened up to her, just through messaging, and she held my heart in my words and nurtured me in the way I needed Her most. I am so grateful.

And Kristen, who I went to high school with but only recently became close friends with right after Callum was born, took in my pain too and stood beside me like a warrior, a warrior with a soft inside, you know? A safe love that will fight for me but when I close my eyes, I know won’t fight against me.

I listened to Ali on the Run’s podcast and she interviewed a model, and they talked a lot about self-image and the physicality of being a woman and it just felt like bread and butter to my soul. Their calming conversation settled into my hips and centered my spine like a good shag and a cigarette.

The other night I lay in bed and had a good cry. It was one of those cries that you just know are planting seeds somewhere. Somewhere green, and damp, with bits of sunlight, just enough to nurture without scorching the edges. And while I cried, Andrew rubbed my back but honestly, all I craved, all I imagined, all I needed was to be inside a circle of a tribe of women, faces smudged with the pains of labour, not just childbirth but of lovebirth, the sacrifices that come with femininity, of nurturing the undeserving, with grace and relentless hope and unfailing love.

Katie and I headed over to my sister Lori’s house because they adopted sister cats. My niece had them locked in her room, safe, in predictable surroundings and they settled there, purring and twirling in her lap. I let the girls be and headed to the kitchen to make myself a coffee and I curled up into Lori’s oversized armchair, an Adele book on her table, birds outside the window, and I thought holy shit. Lori’s life is chaotic, but she knows enough to put a chair here, with Adele, and the birds, and she knows that heaven isn’t up there in some unreachable, untouchable place–it’s in the middle of the storm if you squat down and lean into it. It’s right here.

Do you think of a woman when you think of femininity?

List off some descriptive words that come to mind when you think of Woman. Are they stereotypical? Why or why not?

If it’s 5am where you are right now and you’re thinking “For godssake Suzy, don’t ask me questions like this before I drink my coffee,” then I’ll let you break the rules a bit just this once. But you have to tell me if you’ve had your morning poo yet: yes or no?






Mileage Monday

I brought my mileage down to a much more acceptable 63 miles this week. This is the first week where I actually feel pregnant when I’m running. I feel pressure, or a heaviness down there. It doesn’t hurt at all; it’s just noticeable. It makes me go “Hey, I feel you, I know you’re there and I’ll take care of you.” If I don’t sound like a total whack job now, then I’m not sure what it’s going to take.

Monday– I headed out for an early morning run and only had time for 5 miles, so I took off with the running stroller and pushed Callum for another 3 miles later on!

Tuesday– I ran 4 miles with Andrew while I pushed Callum in the stroller and then I ran another slow 4 miles on the treadmill after Callum went to bed.

Wednesday– A much needed friend with Lora. We managed an 8 miler while Katie babysat Callum (the kids are on Spring Break right now).

Thursday– 2 mile warm-up, 4 miles at 7:13 min/mile pace with a half mile recovery, then 2 miles at 6:53 min/mile pace with a half mile recovery, then 3 miles back at 7:13 min/mile pace with a cool down mile to make it 13 miles total. I wouldn’t want to push myself any harder than that, but it felt absolutely amazing. The best run I’ve had in a long time.

Friday– Just an easy-paced 5 mile recovery run after last night’s run.

Saturday– After I dropped Jake off at work, I ran 6 miles in the rain and then finished it off with a mocha. Sweet rewards!

Sunday– THE SUN CAME OUT! And I was able to do my long run with Lora! BEST DAY EVERRRRR. I am so happy. We ran 15 miles together at just over an 8 min/mile pace and talked the whole damn time.

I did 3 days of strength work and although it’s tough to stay consistent with it, I’m really glad I have. Strength training has kept my body strong, stable and healthy and I am so grateful.

What’s your weather like?

GIVE ME ALL THE SUNLIGHT! I’m not coming inside until the sun goes down.

What are you holding in your hands right this second?



The Speak of Arting

Okay, so this is going to be super weird for most of you. SUPER weird. I grew up in a Pentecostal Christian environment and one of their many practices was the art of speaking in tongues. Well, I don’t know if it’s appropriate to call it art, but whatever. Speaking in tongues is what people do when they are speaking a spiritual language and although it sounds like a plausible human language, it is not understood by anyone else on earth–only by God/Jesus/the Holy Spirit.

Totally confusing, I know. Hang in here with me.

Pentecostal Christians use this particular spiritual gift to express themselves when no human language will suffice. They explain that sometimes their angst, their passion, their urgency within get so overwhelming to the point of overflowing that their earthly language transforms into a spiritual language to bridge the gap between the seen and the unseen.

Whew. That was tough to explain. How did I do? While I myself do not speak in tongues, I can certainly empathize with that overwhelming urgency to express what’s on my inside and lay it all out into the open. It all gets too much to feel and so by handing it over to Other brings me much relief. I do this by running, with writing, even by singing and painting. Art holds the space between the seen and the unseen. Without art, my burdens would be too heavy.

I can always sense when my insides are in turmoil. Well, I get stress diarrhea and hot farts–that’s a given. But I also can’t stop looking around for art. Art to take in, art to put out, art to hold me in the space between.

Music, running, hooping, dancing, painting, writing, reading, singing, laughing, speaking all of these things through my legs, my fingertips, my hips, my lips, my wiry hair, my far off stare, take me in, wring me out, leave me be or let me share.

What’s your art?