1. Kayak at Creve Coeur Lake - COMPLETE

First things first. The bikini that has been written about a few times on this blog made an appearance publicly today. I survived and enjoyed feeling of the sun on so much skin. There really isn't anything like feeling self-confident in one's body. Thank you, 40th birthday and daily yoga and a new running routine, for ushering this new sense of self into my existence.

Okay, on to the commentary about checking off another item from the list. Well, as is becoming habit from working my way through this list, I've found another activity that will become a go-to thing I do when I want some peace, some sunshine and some light physical exertion. Tennis, running, and now kayaking. It turns out I like being physically active far more than I knew. I just hadn't found the right activities until now.

My girl scout mom friend, Kristina, and I met at Creve Coeur Lake. It is a great splash of nature ridiculously close to our homes. I, for one, do not access it enough. Today's time on the water will change that.

Since we didn't want to risk ruining our phones in the water, we took a few photos of our amazing environs, put the phones back in the car, and hit the line for rentals. Kristina graciously paid my rental fee as a birthday present. We were handed paddles and life jackets (which we were allowed to sit on) and each picked a single canoe. We hit the water with excited energy. We paddled out a ways talking the entire time, catching up from our summer absences from each other.

We both reflected what a great blend of exercise, meditation, and change of scenery the kayaking was and for such an affordable price ($10 per kayak per hour.) We paddled away from the shore for a while in one direction. Two canoes full of lovely-looking men passed us. We enjoyed the view, and changed direction for awhile. We tried to go further away from the shore, but the wind was now working against us, so we opted to just float and talk for awhile. We soaked in the sun, and enjoyed each others company. We talked about aspects of parenting our girls, how important self-confidence is to every pursuit—professional and personal, and luxuriated in the shining sun and gentle rocking of the water.

We enjoyed watching a brother-sister team not much older than our girls maneuver their way through the water in a double kayak. “You're doing great! Keep up the great work!” I cheered the duo on. We commented on how impressed we were with their skill and remarked that we believed our daughters could do as well.

A few years ago, I took a yoga class on the water using a stand up paddle board. It revolutionized this book worm's life. I loved being in nature and being on the water without the pressure of having to get in the water. Since then, I've heard my Nissan Pathfinder whispering to me, “Mama, I'd really like to carry a kayak on the roof. Will you please buy us one?”

I'm not ready to commit to the purchase, but at $10 an hour, I am definitely up for adding kayaking to my weekend menu of activity options.

There was such peace on the water. We had so much to look at and enjoy. There were at least a dozen sailboats on the water and others kayaking, canoeing, and paddle boarding. It felt so good to dunk my feet in the water, to paddle for awhile, and then rest, and breathe in the moment. It was really good to be untethered from my dang phone, which I let myself check far too often than is necessary. Unplugging is a good thing. I must do it more often on land and water.

It was just what I needed today, and I was so happy to share it with Kristina.

I took a walk around the lake when we finished our hour's rental. It was really good to feel the sticky sunscreen on my skin, to work up a sweat during my walk and just appreciate a healthy body in a sunny place. Another good day, to be sure.

17. Wake Up Early and Watch the Sunrise - COMPLETE

The 4040 list is proving to serve as an instructional manual for how to live life more deeply and fully. I thought before I turned 40 that I'd been living a pretty good life. What I have since learned is that my cautious, playing-it-safe ways were not conducive to life abundant. I know that now and will correct accordingly moving forward.

My week ended on a note of gloom. Luckily not doom and gloom, but just a bruising for this sensitive heart of mine to bear. I am getting better at not succombing to negative inner monologue. I reinforced moments of weakness with my proven mantras of “It's okay...I'm okay...Everything is going to be okay.” This self-mothering cooing worked and I settled into my couch to watch a Sherlock episode. I dozed a bit, woke to watch the end of the episode and decided that crossing off the sunrise item on my list would be a good way to keep my “It's going to be okay” momentum going the next day.

My morning writing habit has skewed my internal clock to wake me even earlier than usual. I woke up at 5:15, read until my alarm broke the silence of the morning, and I headed to the spot I'd decided to watch the sun rise.

I took incremental photos and in between I rested my chin on my steering wheel. I was contemplative as I listened to Ed Sheeran, Plain White Ts, Journey, Pink, and U2 on the radio. Each song, while ones I wouldn't have chosen, seemed to speak to me in their own ways. I listened to the lyrics looking for new phrases and meanings that could make this moment alone more profound.

My thoughts ping-ponged from subject to subject as I watched the cars cruise down the highway. My vast open future has taken up a lot of real estate in my thoughts of late. What do you do with the years ahead when all of the culturally subscribed and sanctioned milestones—graduations, marriage, children—have all been crossed off the list? And what do you do when those things didn't go quite as planned?

I remembered my “It's okay” mantra and gently nudged myself back to living in the moment where the anxiety doesn't pick at me.

As the sky lightened and revealed a touch of pink, I thought how sitting still watching the sun rise was another form of meditation. How sitting watching what is in moments an invisible process is an act of slowing down.

5:51

5:58

6:01

6:09

I noted the bridge ahead and the events of the week before. Sitting still on the highway as protesters shut it down. Disturbing defined schedules and plans for thousands. I thought about the seriousness of the cause that brought them to that moment, and how it needs to be talked about and fixed, but how shutting down a highway didn't seem to be the means to the end.

The sky brightened and I thought about Kansas. The place of my birth. The place where, no matter the destinations I travel or the zip codes in which I live, will always have my heart. I thought about its wide open skies and the inherent beauty of its expansiveness.

I set the alarm on my phone for 6:15—the official time of today's sun rise. I turned off the alarm and took another photo. This morning's sun rise seemed unremarkable. I picked a hazy day. I thought about how it was beautiful in its un-spectacular-ness. How life can be beautiful when it's gloomy and not spectacular. Just a different kind of beauty.

6:15

I sat in the driver's seat for a few minutes knowing that I'd know when the time to drive home was. I turned my head to the left and saw a sliver of brilliant pink. The Sun! I'd been watching the sky just south of where the spectacle was! There was more to see. I watched as the sun appeared. A curtain of cloud burned away dropping to reveal a stage—the main act. It was remarkable watching it. I marveled at how easy it would have been to miss it if I'd driven away too soon and gotten distracted.

6:21

6:22

6:25

6:29

I watched the sun until it was a complete hot pink orb in the sky. I stayed until staring at the sun no longer felt comfortable or healthy.

I pulled out of the hotel parking lot and took the long way home. Watching the sun rise changed how I saw everything on my drive. Everything that was sun-kissed seemed brand new. I turned into my subdivision and saw the sunshine now golden yellow and too bright to look at directly. I noticed the bright spots on sidewalks and shadows created by trees in the neighborhood. I walked into my house and began tidying up in preparation to welcome fellow writers later in the morning. I saw the sun dappled places on my hardwood floor that shifted with the trees that blocked the light. I felt the heat of the sun on my skin standing at the kitchen sink.

I'd never acknowledged the way the sun brightens life because I take it for granted that it will do it every morning. This morning I was reminded of the source of all this light. I had watched the morning transform from dark to light. It was like walking down the rows of a crop in a field planted by a farmer, and being reminded that the food on my plate first started here. It felt like a miracle, and one that I chose to witness.

Watching the sun rise is an act of hope. The dark of night will always be interrupted by the light of day. Bruised hearts will heal and love better than before. Every sun rise will be different. Some more fantastic than others, but each one of them momentous.

The weather app on my phone marks 7:56 as the time the sun is scheduled to set tonight. I'm going to be there too. It just seems right.

10. Reread Anne of Green Gables Series – Books 1-3

Anne of Green Gables

I first met Anne Shirley, the heroine of the Anne of Green Gables series, in sixth grade reading class. Each Friday, the “gifted” students would leave the class to do their thing. One morning, our beloved Mrs. Young wheeled the TV/VCR cart in front of the class and said, “We're going to have fun too.” She turned on the PBS production of Anne of Green Gables starring Megan Fellows and I was hooked.

Later my grandmother gave my sister and I the books. They came in set of three and my sister got the first three. Of the two of us, I was the reader. I had to borrow hers to begin reading the series. I opened the books too wide and the corners got a little beat up. She was furious. I assured her that this was normal reading wear and tear, but she would have none of it. I had desecrated three books she was less likely read, but they were hers and she was mad. We took our case to our mom. Mom ruled that I needed to buy a new set to replace the damaged ones. It's still a sore subject all these years later, but that's how I came to own the entire series.

I have lost count how many times I have read or listened to the series. The stories never grow old. In this re-reading for my 4040 list, there is something really poignant about rereading it in (early) middle age while also reading it aloud with my own daughter.

Now that I've taken a stab at my own story telling, I see the book much differently. There's really not a lot of action for pages and pages, but the descriptions of everything from the Lake of Shining Waters to the little gable room above the porch makes the book come alive in my imagination. With so little plot actually happening at times, I am amazed that my third grader loves it so much, but I am so glad. We read it before bed and she enters dream land quickly as I read Anne's stories to her.

So why does this book mean so much to me? Why do I never tire of reading it? Anne was skinny and used big words and was like no other girl around her. Except for her red hair and temper, I could absolutely relate. I saw myself in her and began to think, “I can like who I am too.” She came into my life just as I was entering the pre-teen stage and needed positive reinforcement about who I was and who I wanted to become. Anne gave that to me and shored up my confidence at a time when confidence is hard to summon up for a young girl.

“And people laugh at me because I use big words. But if you have big ideas you have to use big words to express them, haven't you?” (page 16)

The Anne books gave me distinct ways of seeing and describing the world around me. They are phrases that are embedded in my vocabulary: “depths of despair,” “Kindred Spirits,” “gird up your loins,” “kerfuffle.”

A favorite passage on page 273: “We are rich,” said Anne staunchly. “Why, we have sixteen years to our credit, and we're happy as queens, and we've all got imaginations, more or less. Look at that sea, girls—all silver and shadow and vision of things not seen. We couldn't enjoy it's loveliness any more if we had millions of dollars and ropes of diamonds. You wouldn't change into any of those women if you could.”

Time and time again, I saw myself in Anne and felt such comfort. Anne took big bites out of life and enjoyed every bit. She was a simple pleasures girl. She had an amazing imagination. She made it cool to have one. At least to me.

Every time I read this series, I get such a cozy, safe feeling.

Now from the vantage point of an adult and having experienced more life since I was twelve, I can appreciate passages in the book in new ways. This passage from page 218 stood out to me given my goal-heavy year: “Oh it's delightful to have ambitions. I'm so glad I have such a lot. And there never seems to be any end to them—that's the best of it. Just as soon as you attain one ambition you see another one glittering higher up still. It does make life so interesting.” This passage struck me in new ways in this reading. My 4040 list and novel writing has brought out the ambition in me this year in ways no other things have. She's right. Life IS so interesting as a result.

Anne of Avonlea

Anne's story continues. And I keep finding myself in the words of this book. “There is some good in every person if you can find it.” (page 29) This is how I have lived my life. Looking for the good, and Anne was right, I find it with great regularity.

I was reading this book while I was in Montana learning that Laura Munson agrees with Stephen King about the use of the adverbs. STOP USING THEM. Laura highlighted a lot of them in my writing sample. So many adverbs, Lucy Maud Montgomery! Anne repeated things “firmly.” Jane said “decidedly.” Ginger croaked “mockingly.” You get the idea. Adverbs are all over the place. It was a great study in what not to do now in my own writing.

But I will say the author's cadence reminded me of sitting with my grandma and so my homesickness for her has spiked, but I've also been comforted too.

I had forgotten the entire story line about Miss Lavender. Rereading her story and interactions with Anne was a treat. I had to laugh at this line on page 186: “She's an old maid...she's forty-five and quite gray, I've heard.” So at 12 I would have thought 45 sounded quite old too. Now, at 40 I'm just starting to hit my stride!

Anne's a “pretender” and so am I. For instance, I'll pretend the clouds are a mountain range. I love imagining I'm traveling down some road in the U.K. when I'm blocks from my own house. How many 40-year-olds will admit those eccentricities? Anne gives the courage to be imaginative past childhood and to own it. It makes life so interesting and easier to bear on the hard days.

Anne of the Island

In this volume, Anne faces the fact that we have to grow up. That friendships and circumstances change. And she does it with grace and aplomb and the knowledge that with “just one good cry” she can carry on. I've indulged in a few good cries lately, and I always feel better. Anne was wise beyond her years.

Lucy Maud Montgomery had such a gift with describing emotions: “Besides, I've been feeling a bit blue—just a pale, elusive azure. It isn't serious enough for anything darker.” Those lines on page 44 take my breath away. I want to write like that!

It was strange to read this story as a writer this time. I had forgotten that this is the volume where Anne tries her hand at submitting her work and is published. It was surreal to read about her writing life as I was living mine. Again, Anne and Julie are twins! She discusses with her friend what she's naming her characters and the trials she's putting them through. I could relate in a brand new way.

Here's another reference to forty: “You'll feel differently about a good many things when you get to be my age,” said Janet tolerantly. That's one of the things we learn as we grow older—how to forgive. It comes easier at forty than it did at twenty.” (page 204)

A Tale of Two Women and a Set of Bungee Cords

The car moves down the highway at a steady speed. The driver notices that the sun's glare is doing a quick dance across the hood when it should be standing in one place. Next she hears a noise that catches her attention. She can't quite make out the problem, but knows it's related to the hood. The driver's ed simulation video she watched 25 years ago springs to mind and she prepares for the worst. She's not paying attention to the sun spot any more because she's watching the entire hood begin to raise. Before she has time to slow her speed, the hood shoots backward toward the windshield blocking her view.

In a calm reserved for the scariest moments in life, she slows the car abruptly, checks the side mirrors and pulls onto the shoulder.

The scenario above was our worst nightmare as Christa and I drove home from Indianapolis. I was talking to a friend on my phone. While I talked, Christa noticed the glare on her hood didn't stay in one spot as it normally did. Then she heard the noise. I missed these cues that trouble was lurking since I was on the phone.

My conversation was ending, and I noticed that Christa took the next exit. It seemed a remote place to stop for a bathroom break. She pulled over to the shoulder. “I think my hood is going to fly up. I heard a weird noise.” It took me a moment to register what she was talking about. She got out of the car and tugged on the hood. It didn't move. She came back around and pulled on the hood release inside the car. I got out of the car and joined her at the hood.

The whole hood latch mechanism had come loose. We could see where at least two screws were missing. I remembered seeing string in the trunk when we were loading and unloading equipment.

I looped the string in and out of the grill and fastened it down. I had a sense that there might be a story brewing from this experience, so I pulled my phone out of my pocket and documented this road side stop.

We got back in the car and laughed at what a weird thing to encounter on a roadtrip. Christa pulled back onto the highway. For awhile, our fix seemed to be working and then as she picked up more speed, we saw this:

“Dear God, Please let that rope hold the hood in place. Please keep us safe for the rest of our trip. Amen,” I prayed aloud. Christa slowed down, and the hood lowered.

At no time did we wonder, “What are we going to do?” An unspoken knowledge that we could handle whatever happened passed between us, though I did admit to having a case of nervous cackles at one point.

“I'm going to go to the Walmart in Vandalia. Surely we can find something there to tie this down better.” Christa said.

“Bungee cords. I think bungee cords are our best bet,” I suggested.

We studied our strategy in the parking lot before we went into the store. We were confident we had a workable plan.

With a 4-set of yellow and blue bungee cords, we set to work. We tested our strategy with the two longer cords and when we tugged on the hood, it still moved more than we were comfortable with. We modified our plan and felt much more comfortable with try number two.

This is what we came up with:

“That feels really empowering, doesn't it?” Christa reflected as we pulled out of Walmart in Vandalia.

“It really does,” I agreed.

Our bungee cords worked against higher speed and aerodynamics. Miles passed. We relaxed knowing that our temporary fix was secure.

We thought our adventure was over. Suddenly we saw an empty black garbage bag float across the highway. I don't remember saying it, but Christa reminded me later that I said, “Wouldn't it be funny if it...” I hadn't finished my sentence when we drove over the bag and it got caught underneath the car.

Christa began laughing hysterically. I was laughing too, but would only understand her hysteria later when she reminded that I'd called the bag getting stuck before it happened. For the third time in two hours, Christa pulled the car off the road. We could hear air whipping through the bag making a thumping noise against the car.

Our laughter was uncontrollable. I jumped out of the car, took another photo, and then yanked the bag loose from under the car.

If this is what road trips with Christa are going to be like every time, sign me up! I haven't laughed so hard in a long time, and together, I know we can conquer anything that comes our way.

PS: Our bungee cord solution got us back to St. Louis safe and sound.

In Awe of my Friend's Artistry

Wedding ceremonies are complicated occasions. For many women, this one day is the culmination of years of dreams and imagining perfection. It's an expensive day for many couples and their families, and that stress adds to the complication. This weekend I carried the lens bag and other equipment as my friend Christa shot a wedding in Indianapolis. I got the microscopic view of just what a unique, pressure-filled role Christa fulfills. She is paid to capture every moment for the couple and for posterity. A narrative is born as the camera clicks away. As I learned this weekend, performing this function well is just another piece of her artistry.

My daughter and I were subjects for Christa's art when she documented our fashion session this winter for my 4040 list. From my own experience, I knew that the bride and groom were in good hands, but I was blown away when I witnessed Christa operate in wedding mode.

The Wedding Day is comprised of 12-15 hours of preparation, ceremony, and celebration. In between those highlight moments, there are a host of variables that in the wrong dose can make wedding chaos: missed timelines, family dynamics, guests' experience, overheated and antsy groomsmen and ushers, camera-shy grooms, too many drinks poured. Christa juggled all of those scenarios and more.

The linen-tuxedoed St. Bernard dog-baby of the couple got separation anxiety at the slightest hint that it was time to leave the wedding party. It took the groom and dog handler minutes to wrangle the dog back to the car. Wedding photos without a groom are generally discouraged, so we waited as precious minutes leading to the scheduled start time of the reception ticked away—time that needed to be devoted the couple's portraits.

Christa takes her responsibility as the documenter of All Things Important seriously. She also has a knack for putting nervous brides at ease. Before the ceremony, the mother of the bride arrived late. She was distracted and disheveled from the last-minute preparations. She was agitated and hesitant about being ready to stand in front of the camera at the scheduled time. Christa nimbly changed her plans, got the shots she wanted, and helped calm the mother and settle her into the task of getting her hair and make-up done.

“The great thing is, the wedding doesn't start until you are ready,” she reminded the bride. Later as we waited for the groom to return, Christa coached the bride that a few minutes late to the reception was not the end of the world. “You have nothing to apologize for on your wedding day,” Christa comforted the bride as she apologized for the delays and other details. As Christa said these words, and repeated similar ones throughout the day and evening, I watched the bride's shoulders relax and her beautiful smile return.

Christa's artistry was on display again and again. I watched Christa do all of these things AND take photos. I know this couple will love the photos and moments Christa captured long after the hangovers fade and the honeymoon is over.

Post-run Stream of Consciousness

Today is my first run in nearly a month. I have one month and two days to go before my next 5k race.

The fitness room at the Drury Inn called my name. I ate a bowl of oatmeal, drank some coffee, and headed to the treadmill.

I get thinky when I run. These are (some of) the things that crossed my mind (in no particular order):

* Imagine Dragons' Night Vision is a good addition to my running accompaniments.

* There's a Sara in my life I need to write to.

* I still can't believe I love to run. 8th grade Julie would never believe it if 40 year old Julie had whispered it to her from the mists of the future. Never. Especially when little Julie finished last every time.

* I have said that I trained for my first 5k alone. That is not exactly true. Today I realized that I have underestimated what a motivating force the voice in my earbud was to the process. That voice needs a name. From here on out, my virtual running partner will be: Radley.

* Gosh, I love naming things. I may have only had one daughter to name, but as a writer I have limitless opportunities to name people.

* It's time to start training for a 10k on my phone app. I am much better at running when I have a goal. Radley, are you ready?

* I always think of my brother-in-law, Rich, when I run. I love his encouragement. And the running quotes he sends my way. This week's was: “Running has thrown me into adventures that I would otherwise have missed.” - Benjamin Cheever, American writer. Rich added this personal note: “I hope you keep looking for adventures.” Don't worry, brother. I agree with Writer Ben. Running has given me adventure too. There's no end to my thirst for them now.

* It's time to put another race on our calendar, too, BIL.

* Running makes me feel strong and healthy in ways I've never felt before. That feeling is delicious.

* I ran 2.5 miles. I wanted to quit around the 12 – 14 minute mark, but I knew I didn't need to quit, I was just bored. I powered through the boredom and past Radley's announcement that my workout was complete. I had technical difficulties with my earbuds and phone. I didn't want to cheat my work out.

* I love sweating because I am generally not a sweaty person. The sweat adds to the sense of accomplishment.

* I'm excited about today: I am the photo assistant to my photographer friend who is shooting a wedding in Indianapolis, hence the hotel fitness room workout. It will be amazing to watch my friend express her creativity in her special way and I am honored to share this couple's special day with them. I also like the idea of adding skills to my resume: herding cats, aka: groomsmen. FUN!

* Post-run sun salutations are far more satisfying. I can touch the floor with more ease and less pain and my arms feel STRONG.

* Time to hit the shower and get my party clothes on!

Naming the things that ail us

I suffer from a condition I call Low-Grade Loneliness (LGL). I call it this because it lies just below the surface. It is not a full-blown fever of despair and loneliness like many people experience, but is enough to make me feel not quite right. It is a confusing condition for me because my life is a garden in full bloom with friends and loved ones who love me very, very well. And yet in the colorful, vibrant garden, the loneliness persists.

LGL is the reason I was drawn to reading books as a child and into adulthood and why some of those books' characters feel like friends I like to revisit again and again. I escaped into stories when I didn't have a name for this affliction.

Then social media came along. Facebook connected me with the people who live far away—Colorado, Kansas, Michigan, Australia, France, and Colombia. For a long time, this online connection helped to ease the ache. It felt so good to see photos of my friends' children, to read what they were doing in their every day lives, and to share my own details. It has become a less-effective aid lately. Often, checking in online makes the temperature of this LGL raise.

When I am particularly susceptible to the LGL, I feel clingy and needy, which only serve to make me feel worse. I don't like the feeling of putting people out or being a drain on their energy. In these moments I am also sensitive to feelings of rejection.

While labels can be a bad thing, box people in, and be limiting, they can also serve as lightbulbs shining light on dark places. Calling this feeling I have Low Grade Loneliness makes it concrete and puts me in a position to seek out approaches for solving or at least easing the ache.

These strategies combined—some new, some long-used—are making a difference. I am:

*accepting that LGL is a part of who I am.

*no longer trying to mask it or make it go away.

*sitting quietly in these moments when LGL spikes. I self-soothe by reminding myself that I am okay, everything will be okay, and the moments of excruciating loneliness will pass.

*remembering to keep breathing.

*learning more effectively the times when I need to reach out to other people and the times when it's best to cope on my own.

*learning the healthy balance between the benefits of activity and rest and choosing which moments call for which one.

*praying.

*practicing acts of random kindness.

*writing.

*keeping perspective. Loneliness is worse for people who are not well connected. I have an incredible network.

*Breaking my routines. One recent Sunday I opted to skip church. I am there every Sunday unless I'm sick or out of town. Taking a Sabbath from my Sabbath helped me to rest and relax and rejuvenated me to return the following week. I was excited to see my people again.

*Journaling (I consider this different from writing listed above. Journaling isn't seen by anyone but me, and my writing I plan to publish on my blog or elsewhere.)

*watching Netflix.

*being intentional about having fun and finding things that will make me laugh.

*spending less time on Facebook.

*making appointments with my counselor.

Another side effect of LGL is feeling weak or broken. The strategies listed above work really well in helping me feel strong and healthy. While they don't make LGL completely disappear, I am much better able to cope with these tools in my tool box.