We Lean...

I have never been a great friend and I am no one's best friend. Well, maybe when I was little I was a best friend to someone. But that best friend died. I met Kelly the summer before 2nd grade. We were not in the same home room, which could spell death to a blooming friendship, but not to ours. We lived down the street from each other, we were both younger siblings, both a little shy, awkward and looking for our place. We found solace in each other. Years passed and our friendship changed with the seasons. We were never the kind of best friends who were inseparable. Things came between us -- cliques, boys, sports -- but we always remained close. There was this unspoken secret between us that we would always be there as best friends for each other. We spent many long nights in Kelly's car... just talking. About everything and anything. Mostly melancholic teenager things. All-consuming, important topics such as our latest results in the swim meet (Kelly) or cross country race (me), dates to homecoming (Kelly), SAT scores (me), annoying siblings (both). Growing up together, there was no topic we couldn't approach. We knew every little thing about each other. When it mattered, we were there for each other. We leaned.

Christmas break 2003, Kelly went on her annual winter road trip to visit family in Florida. She had done this so many times before. Like so many other times, she invited me along. "I'll be leaving tomorrow morning, call if you're coming," she told me late Christmas night. We were lying on my couch watching Planes, Trains and Automobiles, just as we did for many Christmases now, with several of my cousins whose parents were still drinking away the holidays. "Okay, maybe I will come. Let me talk to my parents," I told her. I never talked to my parents. By the time December 26th rolled around I was already on to my new training schedule. Focused and all-consumed by running, I knew that a road trip to Florida would surely interfere with my very serious indoor track winter training schedule. Ridiculous, but true.

I never called. I let Kelly drive away with her Uncle, Sister and two cousins to visit extended family in Florida for the next couple of weeks. I would never see her again. We spoke on the phone a few times during her trip, mostly about very important things like the boy she had just started dating. On the drive home, Kelly lost control of the van and lost her life. Everyone else in that van survived, with hellish memories of the accident and scars that would never heal. Kelly died.

Since her death I have built walls around me. I don't need a best friend, I have told myself. I had one and she's dead and I can't do this again. In high school I never had a best friend. In fact, I had very few real friends at all. The streets became my friends, workouts were my pastime and I had no energy or interest in opening myself up to new people. I am not good at small talk, I am terrible at keeping in touch. I don't answer my phone, rarely return calls and have lost most of my college friendships due to simply not keeping in touch. I am blessed to still have a few close high school and college friends, a few. These are people who have not given up on me. They know I'm awful at keeping in touch but they accept that. When celebrations, or tragedies, or big events happen, we are there for each other. We see each other every couple of years and when we meet it feels as if little time has passed. For those of you who have stuck with me, thank you. I love you and I need you.

Friday afternoon hike with five little girls, two baby boys and three mamas. Joy!

No place better to be than here.

Friday afternoon on dirt Mulholland.

This one cracks me up, mostly because this picture is deceiving.

Sometimes pictures don't really capture what was going on.. I swear it wasn't Lord of the Flies up there.

My face hurt from smiling at the end of this day. Thank you!

It's rainy, cold, you have a stress fracture. What do you do?

Head out to Underwood Farms! Best decision ever, seriously.

Full van out to the farm. Four toddlers, 1 baby and 2 mamas.

As a mother, I am finding more and more everyday that I need friends. I need to lean. Raising kids is surely the most challenging task in which I have ever embarked. Teaching children to be kind, respectful, loving, empathetic, well-rounded people is tough. Nearly impossible, in the world as it is today. But we try, we try our best to show our kids how to live and love. Through it all, we need each other. Maybe for the first time in my life, I have really begun to understand the power and importance of friendship.

To all of you whom I have leaned on this past week, thank you. To those who have held me up, answered my sobbing phone calls, run over to pick up my kids, read books to my daughters, fed my baby, invited us over for dinner, sent me uplifting and thoughtful messages while juggling three kids and overflowing plates, joined us for hours in the wind and rain at the pumpkin patch, texted us for a last minute hike up Mulholland, Thank You. You know who you are. You are incredible. You are my friend and I am so blessed.

I am not dying. I have friends with cancer, whose children have leukemia, friends praying for kids but battling infertility, friends whose parents are hospitalized, babies sick, serious stuff. I am blessed, I know that. I have a "possible stress fracture as seen by the white areas on this film" (quoted by the radiologist who read my x-ray). I am lucky, it could be worse, and I know that. However, I also know that my mental health hangs on threads some days. I am badly missing my daily dose of endorphins. I don't have time, childcare or energy to pick up another form of exercise. Running was/is my thing. It is hard, not running. For now, I lean.