Two Homes, One Heart

So this is a blog about life and love and dealing with problems and this post is about all three.  I just haven't posted something of such a personal nature in a while and thought it should come with a disclaimer, as it's a bit of a shift in gears.  (Get it?  Because of the car posts...)

I've often joked that I have a home in the city and a home in the country.  Now that My Runner has purchased his own house, that feels even more true.  But the reality is that I have an apartment in the city, and My Runner invites me to visit his home.  That's a subtle but emotionally important distinction.

 I know he's excited to have his own place, and settle into it.  "Hell, *I'm* excited for him that he gets the chance to live on his own, set things up the way HE wants it, and make all the home decisions.  I know it was a great growing experience for me, and I hope he finds benefit in it as well.  He has asked my advice on some things, but ultimately has made his own choices.  I've helped (or attempted to help) on some of the projects around his house.  However, there's a line that I worry I keep crossing.

I'm an over-share-er.  You want to borrow something I have, then help yourself.  Need extra storage?  I've got space.  Like my sweater?  Sure you can wear it Wednesday.  That's me.  I generally don't get annoyed until someone, say, borrows my underwear or has sex in my bed (ok, this was ONE college roommate, but yes, both happened).  And even then, honestly, the right person asking in the right situation I'd be like, well ok, go for it.

I don't always realize other people have different boundaries than I do.  I try to be considerate, but because it wouldn't occur to me that, say, leaving earrings on the table or a coat in the closet might be an encroachment, I just don't think about the earrings I left on the table.  I think My Runner doesn't mind one thing here or there every now and then.  But because I've been staying at his house so much, my stuff is spreading, and more of it is staying... The other night I got a text from My Runner: "You moving in?  I think you have more coats in my closet than I do."  I'm sure it was meant in a joking manner, but the message was clear- you're NOT living here, so please don't take advantage.

On the flip side, My Runner has offered a place to keep some toiletries, the bed stand on the side of the bed I sleep on is empty, and he, at one point, mentioned keeping a few things at his place for work-clothing emergencies.  I'm at his house just about every weekend from Friday night to Monday morning, and generally one more night during the week- ie, more than I'm at my own place.  So, where does the line get drawn?

I want to be considerate of his space without having to worry that I'm overstepping.  But I don't want to seem like I'm withdrawing.  And honestly, I know me and I know at some point I'll absent-mindedly forget a pair of shoes or a hair tie or something, and I don't want that to cause a major issue.  Ultimately, I don't want to worry about this all the time and have it be a "thing."

Obviously it's time for a brief chat about what's ok and what's not.  He's rarely at  my house, and with my non-borders, it's never been an issue when he stayed there anyways.  And honestly, while a discussion will help me remember a bit to keep my "stuff" tamed, I'm bound to forget.  So there also needs to be an understanding that I'm NOT "playing games" or being passive-aggressive, but just forgetful.

There is a darker side to this, and I'm embarrassed and a bit ashamed to admit it.  Of course my actions came from being excited for My Runner to have his own place, but upon examination there was some selfishness at play too.  I would often interject or respond as if I had any authority at the house.  Like, when the neighbor asked about cutting trees, *I* said "That shouldn't be a problem."  Or I would state "We just moved in," leaving out the necessary language to indicate that we had just moved ONE PERSON in.  I don't recall doing this on purpose, but I do recall replaying these things in my head after I said them, thinking, "that can't be good."  But I didn't make a very conscious effort to stop.  I guess part of me wanted it to be true, and part of me was so excited for him I just didn't care.  Not until he cared and expressed to me how much it bothered him.  I know this was rude behavior, and it's embarrassing to admit bad manners.

So now, I make a conscious effort to not answer on behalf of him, and to make sure it's clear that I'm not a resident.  But that doesn't mean I haven't screwed up.  It's possible that I wasn't paying attention while talking.  Actually, that's likely because I rarely pay attention to what I'm saying until after I've said it.  (I don't recommended this- it gets me into trouble A LOT.)

Maybe some day this will all be a moot point, but for now it seems like an important stepping stone in our relationship.  How do we express our boundaries?  How do we tell each other when we're hurt or bothered? What's acceptable behavior and what's not?  What can we forgive and learn to live with, and what's unforgivable?  The actual topic might not be incredibly weighty, but the practice of resolving this little thing might have implications in how we resolve the big things.

**Edit: this post was written and for the briefest of moments published before I spoke to My Runner about the situation.  Since he reads the blog (hi baby!) I figured it'd be best for our relationship if I brought this up with him before putting it out for the world- or the 8 or so of you that read this- to see.  The chat was quick and productive, and as per usual I blew the issue way out of proportion in my head.**

VT 50, 2010: Run with Love

Sometimes I put too much pressure on myself. It's in my nature. I was training to run 13 miles in the mountains of VT. Not JUST run it, but run it in time for two other people, one of them my DAD, to run 37 miles within a cutoff time so our team wouldn't be disqualified. This was the first race where the finishing time mattered. And it was killing me. I was psyched to be on a team with dad, but half my training runs would involve me breaking down at some point when it was super hard (we're talking 2-4 mile runs here) and sobbing, knowing in my heart that I'd fail.

This same self-pressure followed me all the way to Vermont. Heading to Mt. Ascutney to pick up our race packets, the foliage was gorgeous, the sun was shining through the clouds, and I started crying. The mountains were so high... I'd have to run those... I was cracking under pressure- with all the beauty around me my face was leaking with worry. And I wasn't the only one.

The VT 50 run- it's about family. I crewed My Runner at the VT 50 last year with his Pops. VT 50 is the first ultra My Runner ever did- at the urging of his Pops. 2010 is his 11th year here. Puma had run the 50k twice and was trying for her very first 50 miler. My Runner and Sherpa shared miles here, and Sherpa was here today for what is possibly his final VT run before he and his lovely wife move West.

At Long Trail Brewery, post- first-freakout cry, pre- second.

Pops couldn't make it this year. Depending on the moment it was disappointing and devastating. I was really hoping Pops could meet my Dad and Sherpa and Puma and everyone- we could all share some time. Lil' Bro was supposed to come with Pops, running in a leg of the relay.

As My Runner, Puma, my Dad, his buddy Ed (Dad and Ed and I making up Team Patriot) gathered in the dimly lit tent in the pre-dawn hours on race day, I realized that no matter who was THERE, this race is about family. We run into Sandel and say our hi's, and GillyGirl, who was pulled at mile 47 last year and is back for her vengeance. People who have run with Pops come up to us, recognizing My Runner and tell stories of his Pops. My Dad and I stand around sharing nervous energy. We chat with others who have notable race shirts on. Trail runners- Ultra runners- it's one big, extended family. My mood lightens and it's time to line up at the start.

The Larch.  The.... Larch. 

Nah... it's a Maple.  Or maybe an Oak? Eh.  Lookit the pretty leaves!!

I line up with My Runner, Puma, Sherpa, and GillyGirl. We're all hopping about in the blue light before the sun breaks over the horizon. Nervous, excited, ready to go- runners always remind me of horses pawing the ground. You'd think, from TV or something, there'd be some sort of grand send off- a starter gun or a buzzer or something. Nope. Out here in VT it's just some guy shouting "Go!" "Go?" "Did he say go?" "Are we going?" "Yeah! Go!" and we're off.

Puma's running a full 50 miles. I was hoping to share a few of the first miles with her, but she's conserving and she's back a bit not long after the start. I share the first few miles with Sherpa, GillyGirl, and My Runner, chatting, sharing dirty jokes, and belching up breakfast (blueberry bagel with peanut butter anc chocolate Boost... not so good on the way up as the way down...). One thing trail and long-distance runners have above road-runners is the ability to really share the miles- chatting eases the burden of time and lightens the load. I mean, when you're out there for 12ish hours, you gotta talk to SOMEONE, right?

Sherpa runs on ahead. GillyGirl is a bit ahead, but I keep her red skirt in sight on the straight-aways. My Runner hangs back to urge me on. It's hard, but I'm going. The concern of the last few months is gone- too late to worry now. The fastest way out is to finish my 12.3 mile leg. I chat with some others around me. Met a guy from Virginia up in New England for the first time running. A woman who has been leap frogging with me has run this leg of the relay before with a team from work- she's probably 10 years older and 70 lbs heavier, but she's keeping up with me, if not passing me, a lot. I admire her and vow to train my ASS off... sooon... My Runner waits for me every now and then, giving great encouragement and advice.

In a moment of mouth-diarrhia the previous day, I noted that Vermont was a "bumpy" state. On race day, I got to know just HOW bumpy. The hills were HARD- even though I was fast-hiking up them rather than running. Still, looking at my watch I was making great time- getting into aid stations before the time that would mark a 12-minute mile (my super-goal; my realistic goal was 14-minute miles). I was about 3-2 miles from the end of my leg when I started cramping up in my torso on the downhills. I think I was tensing so I wouldn't fall and hurt my ankle again, but man it made breathing hard. I ended up walking a great flat running stretch just to let the cramps subside.

GillyGirl and me heading up one of VT's "bumps"

I got into Skunk Hollow (the 12.3 mile aid station) having done 11:40-ish minute miles. As I came in I saw my Dad, raised my arms up high, and shouted with joy. Seeing his big smile as he snapped a photo was awesome! His leg was next, so I grabbed his jacket and camera, we hugged and high-fived, and he was off. My Runner had grabbed some food and water and was ready to get back out for the rest of his 50 miles, so I gave him a quick kiss and sent him on his way.

Me and My Runner heading into Skunk Hollow.

Please don't sue me.  I'd pay for this photo if I wasn't touching my boob by accident.

Team Patriot had a great day. My Dad achieved his goal time for his leg of 19ish miles. He was thoroughly back in love with New England as he finished his leg. The spectacular views from the course and the almost peak foliage combined with a cool clear day would have made ANYONE fall in love with New England. Ed was our ace-in-the-hole, though, passing something like 5-7 relay team runners in his 18 mile leg. I'm a little sad I didn't get to see him finish, but My Runner had asked me to run him in the last 3 miles.

oooOOoooo.... purdy....

As I reunite with My Runner he's thinking he can hit a PR. I'm happy and proud of him. We head up the back of Mt. Ascutney to some truly beautiful trail, and My Runner, who's just run 47 miles, is KICKING MY ASS. I do my best to keep up and not slow him down. He seems happy for the company and wants the time to keep him going. We chat, I pant on the uphills and recover on the downs. We pass a LOT of people- he's shifting into gear.

I feel the downhill cramping but fight through it. As we emerge onto the ski slopes and start doing the backs and forths, My Runner asks, "Is that Sherpa ahead?" I grunt agreement (cramping) and he plans to sneak up and pass him- the finish is about half a mile away. Though I can't see his face, I know all too well the impish (ok, shit-eating) grin on his face... as Sherpa turns shocked to see My Runner there. Smelling blood he kicks it in and zooms down the slope. I know I can't follow at even a respectable speed so I duck out of the course and go straight down the hill, meeting up with My Runner, my Dad, and Ed in the tent near the finish.

My Runner smelling blood.  He's ready to kick some ASS!

 

I managed a smile for this one.

I've reunited with my team. There's a lot of family here, as Mr. and Mrs. Strong have come to watch people finish. Puma's here, having run strong 31 miles before missing a cutoff and being pulled. She seems a bit disappointed, but more so determined to do better next time. We head back to the cars and Dad breaks out some beer for us all to share while we catch up on our experiences and wait for GillyGirl to finish.

In the parking lot sharing some beers I could see how well I really did- and how much I stressed unnecessarily over this run. It drove me forward in my training but I directed energy to worry rather than to powering my body and readying my mind.

VT 50 was WAY outside my comfort zone. But my family had my back. They always had. And while I knew, I didn't really KNOW. Like doing a trust falls, I just had to relax and know that no matter what happened, win or loose, "fail" or not fail, they've got me. I'll never truly fail as long as I keep the love.

Back to Basics

In an attempt to simplify life in several different ways, I'm working to get back to basics.

First, financially. I explored several different cuts in my spending, and the big ones included insurance (thanks My Runner for insurancesavers.com out of Littleton that saved me, seriously, $600/year on the SAME coverage), cable/internet (downgrading to the "economy" internet isn't a big deal when you computer could have a high school reunion coming up), and a change in my tax withholding (no way I owe $10K/year at this point). The long term plan of a combination of saving and paying off debt should be a little easier with some extra change every month.

Smarty is home from school for a few weeks, and there's pretty much nothing I would rather do than spend time with her. And it's highlighted how much I don't MAKE time to spend with people I love. That time is being made, with much delight. Including, but not limited to, a fantabulous girls night this Friday, a baby shower (which was NOT the worst, honestly) and a party hosted by My Runner in which my buddies came up and had a glorious time. Mop even melted a glass beer bottle in the fire pit. I think that experience made the whole night for him. :-)

I'm starting to mount things on the walls of my apartment. Yes, I moved in April... I know I'm decoration-tarded. It's a slow process, and I've already had to fill several holes I incorrectly drilled... but it make my place so much more HOME. I've been going through printed pictures from my "early years" (ie, before digital photography... yes, Virginia, printed photos do exist) and reminiscing. It's a tough choice, what to honor with a place on my wall. Once I get started I might not want to stop...

Face has been working a pretty-much opposite schedule from me, and that's made face-to-Face time difficult. We've got a girls night planned for Friday, and it's pretty much the highlight of my week. Schools coming back, so work has been a bear. I worked a 12-hour day (voluntarily) today, and more are on the horizon, so I'm very much looking forward to some super-friend time at the tail-end of the week.

Also going to a concert with the runner, and possibly with the Strongs, who just finished their Long Trail journey this past week. Great Big Sea is a band brought to my attention by My Runner that I instantly liked. Folky-Irish-y without being the cloying "Irish" band. Not quite "Shipping off to Boston" but not "we make sweaters and our town drunks are hilariously goofy." They're actually from Canada, so more like New England without the "southern" immigrants from NY, MA, and CT. ;-)

So, it's back to the basics of what I love about life: my people. And there's a lot of people to love. I'm so blessed.

FIVE WHOLE DAYS?!?!***

*** Not really anymore.  Family emergency caused My Runner to change plans.  If I actually pre-planned these things, this would have been up in proper timeline order.

My Runner is through-hiking the Monadnock-Sunapee Greenway over the course of this week with Puma.  He's done this trail before with Mr. Strong, and they had such a wonderful time that Mr. Strong is taking his wife on the Long Trail this summer.  My Runner's taking a break from the cubicle farm and getting some time in the woods.

One one hand, I'm happy he's able to recharge.  Boy does he need it.  And the weather this week, though a little warm, will otherwise be perfect.  On the other hand, I'm green with envy.  I wish I could be out there now, soaking up nature and taking a break from being told what to do.

Ok, gonna dig a little deeper and reveal that I'm jealous too.  He's out there with Puma.  Not with me.  Not alone.  Not with Mr. Strong.  Jealousy isn't a pretty emotion, and I don't like that I feel it, but hiding it away doesn't help.  I'm not worried that anything "untoward" would happen.  There's no basis in reality for my feelings.  That doesn't mean I don't feel them.

Actually, it was worse in the days leading up to their setoff date.  Come Monday morning when they're both packed up and ready to go, I feel fine.  Sad that I have to go to work, worried that My Runner is still sick and hacking up lungs, but not jealous.  It still pings a bit here and there, but on the whole, I think that childish part of me had it's moment, and grown up me can prevail.

My Runner and Puma will always be friends.  I like Puma, she's a nice girl.  So, how do I deal with these occasional ugly feelings?  The plan?  Let them out.  I think if I say it out loud, the reality of the situation will take the legs out from underneath the pettiness, and in the harsh light of day these fears will have no control over me.

What do you think?  How do you deal with what you feel are your petty emotions?

Virginia is for Lovers. And Racers.

Thursday night at 11pm My Runner and I leave to drive the 596 miles to Virginia Beach for the Yuengling Shamrock Marathon.  The weather looks to be in the upper 60's and sunny, and our room has an ocean view.  Pocket's running the 8k with us on Saturday, and nothing will please me more to spend the morning running with two of my favorite people next to the majestic Atlantic Ocean.

I'm looking forward to this trip so much it's all that's on my mind.  I've got an extensive list of what to pack, divided by categories, (clothes, toiletries, booze, etc.).  I'm obsessively checking the weather (last Monday the prediction was 50% chance of precipitation on Sunday, today it's down to 30%).  I'm looking at the race maps and imagining what the runs will be like, and browsing through the "Virginia Beach" pool on Flickr (an eclectic mix of professionals and vacation photos).

I'm SO excited for the vacation that I keep forgetting that I'm running THIRTEEN MILES on Sunday.  After running just under 5 miles on Saturday.  At this point, I'm as trained as I'm gonna be.  I (mostly) avoided injuries at hockey (bruises don't really count).  I know where there's water and Gu on the course, and I've got some to carry with me.  My shoes are well broken in, my running clothing has been chosen, my iPod is charged and I'm ready to go.  The only unknowns are "chafe," (I know what chafe is in general, but runner's chafe sounds... no good), and if I can *actually* go the distance.

I'm no longer afraid to walk, but I don't want to give in to the walking if I don't have to.  I was pretty tired running 5 miles last Sunday, but the conditions were bad.  6 miles three weeks ago felt great.  My plan is to try to make it to the water station (about 6 miles in) without walking, get some water and fuel, walk about a half mile, and see if I can run again.  From then on in, if I'm tired or hurting, I'll sign-post it (ie, run to that sign-post, walk to this one, run to that one, walk to this one).

You know this *isn't a running blog* however the next few posts will be running-centered, so you've been "warned."  Also, the DAY we return from Virginia Beach the Nerd Herd will fight for the NHSSC Hockey trophy in the Season 6 finals.  Hopefully I won't be too broken to break myself at hockey.  :-)

Bits and Pieces

Lots of thoughts swirling around lately, and mostly unorganized.  A sampling of the bits and pieces grabbed from the tornado of my brain:

Dad's coming up this weekend.  We're meeting at a race on Sunday morning, then he's staying until Tuesday.  This'll be the first time I run with him, ever.  I'm really worried about being slow.  I know it's stupid  - he won't care, we're here to run it together, but still.  My Runner might be joining us.  I'm glad My Runner and Dad will get a chance to meet. They're very similar, which totally makes me a cliché, but what can ya do.  I love running with My Runner, and I know it will make me worry less about being slow, but there's a small part of me that wants to run just me and my dad.  I think that part's smaller than the part that wants both of them there.

I drove around ManchVegas for an hour on Wednesday checking out neighborhoods of apartments listed on craigslist.  It was ridiculously depressing how much some places were misrepresented.  Of course I only viewed the outside on these, but since I'm looking for a new neighborhood I thought that would be a good place to start.  As much as I want a place that's unique, part of a house, a few neighbors, a nice landlord, I think ultimately I won't be able to find a nice place in a nice neighborhood in my price range unless I go for apartment complex living.  Not really my first choice, but it's got the essentials that I'm looking for, and there are always openings.  The other drawback is that my current rental company operates at least half of the apartment complexes in MancheVegas.  They're probably not better or worse than other rental companies, but their tenant screening process leaves something to be desired.

Last weekend I ran the farthest I have yet - 6 miles.  I felt great, and ran an average 9:20min. mile in the Frozen Shamrock 3 mile race the next day.  This week I feel like crap.  My hip's been bothering me, my calves are cramping, and I've been having some, ah... lady issues.  I've taken some time off to rest, maybe too much time.  I've got a 4.6mi run planned with Pocket when she comes to visit on Saturday, then the race on Sun is 4 miles.  I'm still not feeling great, but it's time to get back in the saddle.  I've totally neglected my PT the last two weeks (slaps hand) and I know that's why my hip is bothering me.  The half-marathon is in 16 days; no time to rest on my weary laurels.

Speaking of the ShamRock (half)Marathon, this was today's facebook post:
Coach Jerry Frostick's tip of the week: Less is best, don't try and make up for missed mileage. Everyone has battled the worstwinter that I remember. That same determination will get you to the finish line. Feel proud of what you've done.Usethese last two weeks to heal aches and pains and visualize great things for... your big day!You all will Sham ROCK.
It's like Coach Jerry is reading my mind.  I'm not going to go crazy with miles, but I am working to get my drive, determination, and "sticktoitiveness" back on line.  (When did "sticktoitiveness" become an ok word to use?)


Pocket and I will be heading to my Alma Mater after our run on Saturday to see a show produced by the theatre department from which I graduated.  It hasn't been terribly long since I attended, and most of my profs are still working there.  I've always been proud of my education.  While the name and the department doesn't necessarily have a huge reputation, I felt the professors and program were all well-rounded and encouraged exploration of talents and strengths.  I really hope it's a good show.


Mom recently "guilted" me that I've been dating My Runner for over six months now and she barely knows him.  She's right, it's weird.  I have a very close relationship with my family, so the fact that I'm so happy and they don't know him IS totally strange.  So we're having dinner on Wednesday, hosted by Face and Mop.  I'm super psyched.  Getting the chance to meet some of his family over Easter.  Excited, but oddly not really nervous.  I mean, I hope they like me, and there is a certain amount of strain making small talk with a room full of strangers, but I'm just happy to get to see a little more of where My Runner comes from.


I know I'm "of that age," but EVERYONE is getting married this year.  Three friends, two family members.  Five weddings.  Don't get me wrong, I actually really like weddings.  Celebrating love, eating, dancing, drinking, wearing pretty clothes, all things I truly enjoy.  And, luckily, there's not a single union that I'm in any way opposed to.  The only down side is that my schedule for the spring/summer/fall is now pretty full, and already there are conflicts with weddings and planned trips.  Normally I'm a "first come first serve" kind of gal when it comes to plans, but people tend to only get married once (at least, to each other), and friends and family are sort of expected to prioritize a wedding over, say, a backpacking trip.  Knowing I will have equal but different fun at either event is not helping me make a decision.

The Joy of Running

I'm finding it again.  The beautiful weather we had Saturday certainly helped.  Running in a t-shirt and fleece, the sun shining, snow melting, spring scents tantalizing my nose... My Runner chose a course that ran us 4 miles and change, bringing me even with my longest "pre-owie" run.  Some of it was hard, and I was tired at the end, but I did it and I know I can do more.  It was a very emotional weekend, but running in the sun, moving where I wanted under my own power, enjoying the company of someone I care about, putting one foot in front of the other, it became a release, an escape, an oasis, an encapsulated moment of joy.*


This Sunday marks my first race since December.  J.P. McBride's, a 3 mile race and the first of the Wild Rover series.   I'm looking forward to the race and the excitement that an "event" brings to a run.  The only downside is the poor planning on my part that put an annual Luau bash (hosted by yours truly) the night BEFORE this race.  Still, I caught the racing bug for a reason.  I think the performer in me responds to the crowds, the excitement, and the ritual of pinning a number on your clothing.  I know I respond to the competitiveness of running "against" other people, though I'm not really looking to place or win.**




*Forgive me, Grammar Natzis, for I have sinned by overusing commas.  Consider it dialog and cut me a pass this time, k?  :-)
**The biggest issue with being 29 for the next 10 years is that I'm often competing for trophies with 18 and 19 year olds.  That doesn't seem fair.  Maybe I'll have a "racing age" and a "life age."

Holiday Season

Brother Mine and I were raised as Hallmark Christians. We were never baptized (until we were older - that's how we "rebelled,"), never went to church unless someone was getting married or died. But we did celebrate Christmas and Easter in the finest Hallmark fashion - presents, food, brightly colored mascots, etc.

Things, as they often do, got more complicated when my parents divorced, and even more so when my mom moved my brother and me to NH. We had our Christmas as a family, then my mom's Family Christmas (Memere, her5 siblings, all my cousins, and eventually my cousin's kids), then my Dad's family Christmas (similar to my mom's - those French Canadians really know how to breed).

As an adult it became a little easier to balance all the commitments. I could drive myself to different locations, and ultimately began to choose one family for certain holidays so I could stay and enjoy the company. Mr. Fixit came into our lives, bringing his lovely children and grandchildren, and one more Christmas celebration (2nd Christmas). Friends are home to visit (Smarty Pants, Deej, the recently engaged Golden Girl, and Brother Mine, just to name a few), and of course I want to spend quality time with all of them. And my friends that ARE my family: Face and Mop, Fleur, Seacoast, and the aforementioned visitors, just to name a few. These are the people who have been with me through thick and thin, good times and bad, and CHOSE to love me unconditionally. And of course I want to spend time with my sweetie, My Runner, and all the new friends I've met and grown to enjoy through him.

As much as I love seeing everyone, spending time with family and friends, sharing a laugh, some food, libations, it feels very stressful this season. I'll look at my calendar and how full the next week is, and I can feel my blood pressure rise. And then I think of my family, chosen and unchosen, and how lucky I am to be surrounded by people I love. If I beleived in blessings, I suppose you could say that when I count them, I am rich.

Happy Holidays. I hope this season reminds you that love is an important gift, and sharing time and experiences together is part of what makes us happy, healthy, whole human beings.