And so I ran

It’s 6am. My heart is heavy today, but my mind is strong. I got my son dressed, the baby fed and I laced up my pink running shoes. One foot in front of the other. My body moves because I told it to. My body is still weak. Too heavy for my knees to handle. But I ran. Slowly. But with purpose. Without any doubt in my mind that I could keep going. I no longer doubt what I can do. My body will run as long as I tell it to. I know that now. It doesn’t make it any easier. It hurts. But the pain is only physical. And so I kept running. Thoughts going through my mind. Life going on around me, as it will no matter what I do. And all I can control is me. And so I ran. I ran towards something better. Towards the person I am building. I ran towards my future. A better day than the one before. To find a better me than who I am today. I no longer have to convince myself to keep going, because I just know I will. Because I am strong.

And so I ran.

Find Your Greatness

I came across this Nike ad that I found inspiring, and thought I’d share.  This boy in the video is only 12 years old.  Sometimes things in life seem impossible, whether it be physical or emotional challenges.  We all have them.  But we all have to start somewhere.  One foot in front of the other, one step at a time.

Have a great day everyone!!

 

 

The failure lies in not trying

My story isn’t filled with tales of happiness and success.  My story is about my struggle to reach my goals (and I have many).  Along the way I have, and will continue to stumble and fail over and over again.  If you’ve read any of my posts, you know I am candid about this.  These failures are the most important part of my story.  They are what make me who I am.  My response to these failures represent the forks in the road that determine who I will become tomorrow.  Will I continue down the same path, or will I make a change and DO better, BECOME better.

Today I failed.

Today was the 10km run I had planned to do for months, and had signed up for with a few friends.  It was raining hard this morning at 6am.  It had rained all night long.  I felt completely unprepared for this run.  I have been eating left over turkey and stuffing for a week, and my exercise has been inconsistent at best.  I have lost a total of 79 lbs and am proud of this, but have really been struggling with the last 14lbs.  I should’ve lost all of my baby weight by now.  It might seem like I’m being hard on myself, but I’m not.  Doing it the healthy way, it is not unreasonable for me to be back to my pre-baby weight by now.  I’ve struggled with finding the time to run long distances and I’ve always struggled with the motivation to do any form of weight lifting (which I KNOW is very important).  It is my on-going struggle to manage baby and fitness…oh, and life.  But, I know I could be doing better.  I have definitely not been in the “zone” where I know I need to be to reach my fitness goals.  And then it rained.  The rain was the perfect excuse for me.  There was some legitimacy in this excuse.  It wasn’t a good day to bring the baby out, and have him and my husband find an indoor place to hide out in while I ran.  And since the race started and ended at different places, my husband and baby did have to come in order to drop me off and meet me at the finishline.  BUT…and it’s a big BUT.  I could’ve figured out.  There is always a way.  But today the rain gave me the perfect excuse to blame something other than myself for my inability to complete what I had committed to.

It might seem trivial.  It was just a run, right?  No.  It wasn’t JUST a run.  To me, it represented much more than that.  This was my next goal in a series of goals that I have set for myself since having my son.  It was a chance to accomplish a goal.  It was a chance to push myself.  To complete something I find difficult.  To push through something challenging.  To put myself out there and possibly fail.  I realized something important as I sat at home watching the rain fall.  There is no failure in trying.  Completing a race in a time that I consider embarrassing, is really not embarrassing at all.  Not trying at all though – THAT is embarrassing.  I realized (too late) that the failure lies in not trying at all.  I made the wrong choice.  I chose the easy road.  I made excuses, and I even believed them.  I want to set the example for my son.  I want him to never be afraid to try, and to grow up knowing what I just learned at the age of 29.  There is no failure in trying.  Never.  Period.  I let everyone down.  I let myself down.  I let my son down.  I let my husband down.  I let my friends down.  Of course they are to kind and supportive to see it that way.

Everything I go through doesn’t have a happy ending.  I don’t feel proud of myself today.  Today I took steps backward, not forward.  But lucky for me, this isn’t the end.  My story is one with an outcome that I re-write everytime I get back up when I fall.  No, I’ll never get the chance to re-do this day and make the choice to simply try.  But I can choose to get back up, and try again tomorrow.

I will never forget this day, this feeling of failure.  I will never forget the lesson learned.  There is no failure in trying.  Failure lies only in not trying at all.

73lbs and counting

40+ weeks pregnant ~ 6 weeks after baby ~ 5 months after baby

Looking back it doesn’t shock me at all that I had extreme back pain during the second and third trimester.  I have no idea how I even managed to walk with all those extra lbs weighing me down.  At the time I really had no idea that I had packed on so much additional weight.  I stopped weighing myself about halfway through my pregnancy, knowing I wouldn’t like what I saw.  I knew I was large, but looking back at the pictures now, it is surreal.  I can’t believe that was my body, and that the little guy I wake up to everyday, was living in there.  During my pregnancy I even outgrew my maternity clothes and ended up in my husbands track pants and t-shirts by 8 months.  By the very end I couldn’t sit upright in my chair at work, and the only activity I did was the 20 minute workout I’d have to get my butt up off the couch (where I spent much of my time), to get to the bathroom.  This wasn’t quite how I pictured it to be.  I thought I’d be all cute and skinny, with just a belly.  I don’t know why I thought that, since I have never had a hard time putting on weight.  In fact, I am somewhat of an expert.  It’s definitely a skill I’ve mastered throughout my life, and pregnancy helped a lot.  I had no motivation to get to the gym or put down the chocolate bar when I knew I’d just continue gaining weight anyways.  Sure, it was fun at the time.  Wait, NO it wasn’t.  There was a small window early on, before the weight caught up with me, that was quite enjoyable.  I had that cute little belly I had always imagined, and enjoyed looking pregnant, but still fitting into my cute clothes.  I don’t recall when exactly it happened, but I woke up one morning and was 93lbs heavier.  I remember I could hardly have a conversation because I was so short of breath.  I had to take breaks in my sentences to breathe.  I’d be panting by the time I made it to the top of the stairs.  I even hurt my shoulder pretty badly from trying to push all that weight up off the couch so many times (pathetic, I know!).  I couldn’t get up without a good push (It took a few months for the shoulder to heal).  Now, 5 months after baby, I am still working hard to undo the havoc that the weight wreaked on my body, and my life.  After months of balancing baby and fitness, I am down 73lbs, with 20lbs to go to reach my pre-baby weight!  Yes – 73lbs.  If only I was Jessica Simpson, I’d have made myself 4 million by now!  To put this into perspective, this is the equivalent of a Golden Retriever, a 9 year old child or a smart car.  Basically, it’s a lot!  I’m very aware that it’s my own fault, and I should’ve listened to my husband when he said to put down the pizza (and the pie and the donuts).  I was offended at the time.  How dare he tell ME what to eat!  Afterall, I was pregnant, and my baby was hungry! (VERY hungry!)  But as usual he was right (so annoying! lol).  He knew I was digging myself into a hole that would not be easy to get out of.  He knew I would face an uphill battle like nothing I had experienced before.  But at the time I felt entitled, as a pregnant woman, to eat what I wanted.  And truthfully, I always worried when I was hungry, that it meant my baby was hungry.  Yes, I ate the healthy stuff too, and took my prenatal vitamins to make sure baby was getting what he needed.  But then I added dessert, another round of pizza, and maybe a small cake or tub of ice cream.  Yes, I am embellishing a wee bit but you get the point.  At the time I thought if I had to do it over again, I’d do the same thing.  It was the one time in my life that it was OK to gain weight and no one would judge me.  Well, that is true.  Besides being asked MANY times if I was expecting twins, no one thought twice about the pregnant chick being a bit rotund.  But, I can say without question now that if I had to do it all over again, I would definitely not do the same thing.  These past 5 months have been the most physically challenging of my life.  I vow to never dig myself into such a hole again, pregnant or not.  I’m fairly certain that I’ll never be the girl that gains the “average” 30ish lbs during pregnancy.  But this whole 93lbs thing is a bit ridiculous!  I took pictures while I was pregnant, watching the belly (and everything else) grow.  I’ve started doing the same now, in reverse.  I am still shocked to see what I looked like.  I remember not wanting to leave the house because I was so embarrassed of what I looked like.  I couldn’t even fit into my “fat clothes” after I gave birth.  I remember being so worried that people would think I was still pregnant.  But to see the pictures now, it is shocking to me.  I am still embarrassed to look at them, and more embarrassed to share them (What am I thinking putting these up!)  But it’s an important part of my journey, and a motivation for me to keep going.  I have a long way to go.  20lb weight loss is no easy thing for me.  All I can do now is move forward.  20lbs to go…I think I can.

Dodging caterpillars…the journey continues

I am not a motivational speaker, or someone who claims to know it all when it comes to fitness, babies or life in general.  I am just here trying to openly and honestly share my experiences.  For me the journey, with its ups and downs, might even be more important to me than the end result.  I love what writing allows me to do.  I can get my thoughts out, and work through my challenges on paper (cyber paper of course).  And if as a result of this writing I am able to reach someone who is struggling too, then what a wonderful gift that is.  I try to end all my posts with something positive.  As you have read, my life is far from perfect (Who wants to read about perfection anyways?).  But I definitely think it’s important to see the good that comes from the lows, and celebrate the highs.  Otherwise this blog is all for not.  The purpose is not to complain, but to work through each battle the best way I know how, and move on to the next one knowing I am a better me than before.

Today’s journey started with an earlier than normal run.  There is not much that feels better than hitting the pavement first thing in the morning.  I love completing the workout early and enjoying the rest of the day, guilt free.  I don’t love treadmills, but have been limited to indoor training for the last while due to childcare.  Today was my first outdoor run in weeks.  I was a bit nervous.  Can I even handle an outdoor run anymore?  I find I lose my fitness fast if I am not dilligent with my training.  Sometimes transitioning from indoor to outdoor is a bit of a struggle for me.  Outside there are other factors to consider; wind, hills, heat.  Not quite the same as running in the air conditioning at a regulated speed.  Today the weather was more mild than days past, but the sun was still beating down on me.  Dripping sweat within minutes, as usual, I set out on my usual route.  Within minutes I knew without a doubt that today was going to be a good day.  My pace was faster than I had run ever, since having Deacus, and I felt good.  No weird aches and pains like in runs past.  Sure, very quickly I was hot and tired, but I also knew I could push through it.  This was a big deal for me.  A major step in me realizing that I could handle the pain and make it home alive.  I’ve realized that the pain of physically pushing your body never goes away.  What I’ve noticed is that the most fit people I know, are those who learn to deal with the pain and exhaustion and not quit.  It’s not that they don’t feel it, it’s that they embrace it and use it to fuel themselves.  Sure the body becomes more fit as I workout, but there is always going to be a new pain as I push my body to its next level.  As I set out today, I told myself I needed to shave some time off my run.  My next race is in less than 9 weeks, and I do not plan on seeing those police cars again!  I had been consistently running 5km in 38 minutes – not exactly record breaking time.  My goal was to get that down to 30 minutes by the October run.  As I’ve said before, I was never a “runner”.  Just someone who enjoys what running has come to represent in my life.  I love what it does to my body, my confidence and most of all, my mental health.  I didn’t break records before baby and I won’t now.  My goals have always been personal ones.  Before being able to accomplish my 10km time goal, my 5km time needed drastic improvement.  I ran down the empty road, focused, convincing myself every few steps that I could do it.  My throat burned as I ran to my max, but I wasn’t stopping today.  Head down, mentally ignoring the hills ahead, dodging the caterpillars at my feet.  I felt myself running out of steam with a kilometer left to go.  I told myself to just keep moving my legs.  And I did.  When I got home I felt like I had just won the lottery.  What this run represented was so much more than just shaving a few minutes off my time.  It represented a huge accomplishment for me, in this life-long journey I’m on.  It showed me that I am strong.  It showed me that the hard work I’ve been putting in at the gym is paying off.  It showed me that the girl I used to be is still inside of me, and is ready to come out and play.  So what was my time?  32 min, 30 seconds.  6 minutes less than my previous post-baby best.  Yes, I still have weight to lose, and a ways to go to reach my ultimate goals, but I am proud of who I am becoming and the person my son will grow up to know.  Today is a good day.

Enjoy the climb

I had stared down that empty country road many times.  I could barely remember what it looked like beyond the stop sign where I used to turn.  I hadn’t been down that road in a while, about 11 months in fact.  I tried to be positive, but inside my head I kept wondering if I would ever make it that far again.  Yesterday, only a few minutes after blogging about my fitness struggles, I laced up my running shoes again and hit the road.  Deacus was enjoying a visit with a friend (Thank you Taunya!!), and I was off to attempt another 7km.  I looked down at the ground for most of the run, dodging rocks and bugs, convincing myself it was only a little bit further.  A few km’s in, to my shock, I felt good.  I felt a glimmer of what I used to feel when I’d run.  Tired, but strong.  The wind was at my back (literally), and I felt as though I was physically being given that push I needed mentally.  I looked down at my Garmin (my trusty, yet quite old GPS watch that I couldn`t live without), checking my pace and time every couple minutes.  I could hardly believe it when I hit the 4km mark, turned at that stop sign that I hadn’t made it to in so long, and kept running.  It was at that moment when I decided today is the day!  I am doing it!  That hill that I had struggled with so many times, suddenly didn`t seem so big.  A challenging, but bearable 5km more and I was back home.  I did it!  10km!!  This 10km consisted of 1hr 8 minutes consecutive running, followed by a 4 minute walk then 9 more minutes of running.  Yes, it took me 1hr 21 minutes.  I have a lot of room for improvement, but I am proud to be able to say that I did it!  12 weeks since my sons birth, and 6 weeks into my training, I ran my first 10km!  I really didn’t think I could do it until I got out there and proved it (to myself).  I had lost the confidence I used to have.  I had been trying to stay positive, and be patient with myself and my new body.  But deep down, the fat girl inside me was telling me my body and confidence were gone forever and that a 10k run was too much for me.  I believed I was weaker now – physically and mentally.  Boy was I wrong.  The minute I started to believe in myself again, my outlook and progress changed – instantly.  As I ran, I just put one foot in front of the other, and told myself quitting wasn’t an option.  I began to feel such a feeling of accomplishment.  For the first time in a long time, I was proud of myself and the person I was working toward becoming.  I couldn’t wait to tell my husband and have him give me a high five and say “good job”.  Knowing that on inside he`d be glowing with pride.  Besides myself, he is the only other person who I know would really understand and appreciate what I had just done, and what it meant to me.  I vowed to him while I was pregnant that I would not be an out of shape wife and mother, and I felt good that I was on my way to keeping that promise.  I believe I am a better wife and mother and a happier person when I am fit, and my son and husband deserve that woman.  I deserve to be that woman!  This would be one of the most difficult, but more rewarding journey’s of my life.

I immediately think of the amazing ladies who have come before me and set the bar so high.  I am proud to know you, and hope to someday join you up there.  I’m up for the challenge.  It wouldn’t be that fun to be at the top of the mountain all the time anyways, would it?  Ok – maybe it would be a little fun.  But for now I’m going to give myself credit for what I’ve accomplished so far, and enjoy the climb.  To Victoria, a certain mom I know who recently ran 10km in 48 minutes, wow!  You inspire me, and push me to be better.  I hope to someday run beside you.

My weekly appointment with the dreaded scale

Thursday marked Deacus’ 12th week of life, and my 6th week of working out post c-section.  My progress has been ok, but I am nowhere near where I expected to be.  Somehow I dreamed my body wouldn’t mind the 9+ months of torture it had endured, and would cooperate when I told it to run 10km.  Pre-baby, I didn’t have a running plan.  I was relatively fit from exercising and running 5km or so regularly, and just decided one morning to try 10km – and I did it.  I wasn’t fast, but I did it without much trouble, and continued to run it often and increase my time from there.  Don’t get me wrong, it was hard, but I was able to physically do it.  It was more of a mental challenge.  These days my mental strength cannot mask the pain in my knees and the extra weight I’m carrying prevents my body from doing as it’s told.  I can push it, (and I do!) but only so far.  It is tough to feel so restricted by my own body, and to have lost the freedom to be in charge.  I will get back to where I was (won’t I?), but right now this is the body I have to work with.  This morning I stepped on the scale to see how I was progressing, hoping my track pants might start to fit a little less snug, and that my knees may have a little less to carry on my next run.  Or dare I wish I might even get into a pair of jeans again!  Most days I’m just glad the scale doesn’t just call me a fatso and tell me to get off!  So, how much of those 93 lbs had I shed in 6 weeks?  The scale beeped at me and gave me the good news.  I am officially down 57lbs.  Today was a good day.  With 36lbs to go, I might just get into jeans and even put on heels again at some point in the next few months!  With visions of the tiny stilettos snapping off from under me, I didn’t want to risk heels until I was closer to my goal weight.  Suddenly I found myself thinking of how the average woman gains around 35lbs total during pregnancy.  TOTAL.  I still have enough extra weight to be carrying a small child inside of me.  With 2 weeks until the 10km, and me still being 3km away from that goal, I had to put these thoughts out of my mind and hit the pavement.   Pre-baby I remember thinking I’d gain a lot of weight (I know myself and my body well!) but that I’d get back in shape fast.  What else would I have to do, right?  I could workout every day since I’d have all the time in the world.  WRONG!  Any mommy knows one of the biggest challenges is finding the time to workout.  After sleepless nights, and days that don’t ever really end, if I manage to muster up the motivation to exercise, now I have to figure out what to do with the little guy.  He’s a well behaved baby, but that doesn’t mean he is going to allow me to leave him on his playmat for more than 10 minutes that day.  So I can try interval training at home – 10 min run, 1 min insert soother back in baby’s mouth, and repeat.  My next option is leaving him with the gym’s childcare – a 17 year old girl who’s probably never even held a 3 month old, or has any interest to, (but for $10.50/hr. will do it).  No offence to the staff at the gym, I am sure they are lovely.  I have yet to even be to the gym since having Deacus, but this is how I picture it and it terrifies me to leave him there.  He still seems so little and fragile.  Where has my independance gone?  The days of getting up and going anywhere I wanted to, at any hour, are long gone!  Any outting now requires a jumbo sized duffle bag with all the goodies a 3 month old should need over the course of a few hours.  Including lots of diapers and changes of clothes in case we have any explosions (and we have many!).  I can see how fitness sometimes takes a backseat after children.  Even though it’s a time when fitness should be in the forefront.  I want to set an example for him.  I want to live a long, healthy life, and have the energy to be an active mom to my boy.  But sometimes it feels impossible.  Luckily, today I  have a friend who is kind enough to come all the way to my house and watch the little man while I get in some much needed exercise.  As hard as running is for me, I am beginning to enjoy my time on the road again.  Every part of my body hurts as I work towards getting my body back, and actually being able to complete a run without feeling the dreaded “out of shape pain”.  But while I’m out there I have time to think (and write my next blog in my head), and have some time for Shannon.  I love being a mom to Deacus, and I love being a wife to Nick.  But sometimes I need to just be Shannon.  For me, running helps me find her.  The girl I thought I lost a few short months ago.  The happy, healthy girl, full of energy who can look in the mirror without feeling ashamed of what’s staring back at her.  She’s still in there – somewhere.  And I believe one of these days, maybe on a long run in the middle of nowhere, I’ll find here and bring her back with me.  Until then, I will keep running, give myself some credit for my progress so far, and tell myself what I tell Deacus when we have a rough day of crying fits and no sleep.  It’s ok – tomorrow will be better!

Did you say 93 lbs?

Yes, you read that right – 93lbs.  Now, let’s put that into perspective for a moment.  It’s the equivalent of a whole other human, 5 toddlers, a pitbull, maybe even a small pony?  During the 9+ months of my pregnancy I gained a whopping 93lbs!  Ouch – it hurts to say out loud.  See, I wasn’t kidding in my other post when I said I had gained an “enormous” amount.  I’d say “93” deserves a good strong word like “enormous” to describe it!  Who could I blame this on?  The baby boy who grew inside me, or maybe the entire boston cream cake that forced its way into my belly while pregnant?  It is clear that I have no excuses.  The “average” woman gains 25-25 lbs during pregnancy.  I have seen them, and I dislike them (I had the word hate in there but thought it was too harsh).  Ok, that’s not fair to them, I take it back.  I am just not one of those women – clearly!  I have always put on weight easily, but 93?  Unreal and completely embarassing to admit.  Why I am admitting it, I am still not sure.  Maybe to keep myself accountable in a very public way.  Maybe to encourage others facing similar challenges in their life, and show them they aren’t alone.  I am not exactly sure of my motivation behind revealing this, but I suppose if I’m going to write about my journey, I might as well be painfully honest about it.  And hopefully someday I can proudly say I got back to my pre-pregnancy weight.  Today, however, is not that day.

So what are the downfalls of gaining 93lbs?  Where do I begin!  Of course nothing in my closet fits.  I actually doubt at times that the clothes housed in my closet actually belong to me.  Seems more likely that a small garden gnome has taken up space in my closet for her wardrobe.  There is no way I ever fit into them!  Now, besides the hit on my self esteem and obvious superficial issues of this weight gain, let’s think about the big issue here – my health.  I remember at the peak of my running in 2010 (wow-where did the time go!?!) I ran from Baden to Kitchener.  It was 22km and took me a few hours.  Someone asked me, “why do you run, what is the point”?  My answer was “Because I can”.  My legs work and until they don’t I’m going to keep running.  Maybe that sounds a little too Forest Gump-esque, but it is the truth.  Finally I had gotten myself into shape after the ups and downs over the years.  I felt the best I ever had, and I wasn’t going to take it for granted.  So now when I think about getting back out there and running, my answer is the same, with a few added thoughts since my sons birth.  Like the fact that I want my son to grow up healthy, and have a healthy, happy mom setting the example for him.  I want to live a long time, and do everything in my power to make sure I do.  I think about all the people out there facing illness and other serious personal struggles.  Those who literally cannot run or even walk for that matter, and would probably do anything to be able to.  I’m not talking about those of us who have packed on some pounds and really have no legitimate excuse besides self control issues and laziness (yes, pregnancy is a legitimate reason, but not 93lbs worth!).  When I think about that, running seems easy, and almost like something I have to do in honour of those who can’t.  Again, I am not breaking any records with my running abilities, and I am not trying to.  But my legs work.  They move when I tell them to.  They ache and burn and I want to stop at least 100 times when I am out there (and sometimes I do!), but I plan to keep pushing forward, and using them until the day comes that I can’t.  God willing that is many, many years away.  Think Terry Fox, Lance Armstrong…it’s in moments where I think about those facing challenges like they did, that I’m able to put things into perspective.  Now please don’t for a second think I’m comparing myself to either of those brave men, or comparing their fight to mine.  I’m simply saying that I realize when I think about their stories and similar ones, that in the grand scheme of things, I am lucky to have limbs that work.  So shame on me if I don’t appreciate that and use them.  Maybe I can find within myself, an ounce of the strength and bravery that those in such situations display, and push forward in the challenges of my life.  The challenges that are very real to me, but seem so insignificant in comparison.  That is not to minimize the challenges that I face.  Being a mom and all that entails, and trying to get fit is not easy.  But perspective is a wonderful thing.  So I run.

So where do I go from here?  Will I ever gain my self-esteem back?  Will I ever be able to look in the mirror and be proud of what is staring back at me?  Yes, I believe wholeheartedly that I will.  In fact, I am going to work my butt off to make sure I do!  Over the past 7 weeks since my sons birth I have managed to lose 46lbs.  I can’t take all the credit however, since I was only just cleared to workout last week.  Trainer Nick suggested I set myself an aggressive, measurable goal in order to get myself motivated.  He knows me so well!  I signed up for the Waterloo Classic, 10km run on June 17th.  I recall from when I did it a few years back that it was one of the hottest days of the year and the course is mainly uphill.  Sweat dripped off me, my eyes burned, and I thought I might pass out.  So I thought hey, lets do that again!  7 weeks left to train, and 47 lbs to go.  Here we go…the countdown is on…

The diary of an average girl

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Welcome to my blog!

As I ran down the street yesterday on my first jog in nearly 10 months (I’ll explain later), in order to keep myself distracted from the terrible aches and pains that were already setting in, I started writing my “story” in my head.  What a journey I had be on over the last year!  So in today’s world of modern technology, rather than reaching for a pen and paper when I got home, I ended up here as a new “blogger”.  I’m not sure how I feel about that title, or what all being a blogger entails.  Here I am none the less, about to share my thoughts, struggles, emotions…my story.  I don’t profess to be a great writer, or even a writer at all.  I also don’t claim to have anything particularly interesting to share.  So if you do somehow end up here reading this, firstly, thanks for coming!  Secondly, please ignore any spelling and punctuation errors, and keep in mind that I am just an average girl sharing my story, open and honestly.  For what purpose would I be so vulnerable, sending my inner most thoughts out into the world to potentially be judged and criticized?  I am not quite sure yet!  All I know is that I had the desire to document some of what I have experienced, and my journey during the craziest and most amazing time in my life.  I hope you enjoy the ride!!