Scrapbooking runner style

This weekend I was out promoting my 5K at another 5K event, and a discussion arose as to why runners wear shirts from races they have done. 

 "Why is that necessary to wear to say 'look what I've done!' ?"

 Mind you, this comment came from a non runner.

  However, it made me pause and think just a little bit.

 My initial answer was " I don't wear mine as to say 'Look at me! I did this race! I wear them because they are comfortable.' " 

Whereas it was answered with a chuckle and a "sure" kind of statement. Then the conversation moved on to something else along running lines. Quite honestly, the shirts given out at events are my favorites to wear when I'm out on training runs because most shirts now given out at races are designed for running. 

  That being said, I pretty much forgot about the conversation until this morning, when  I went to get a shirt out to wear, and the stuffed drawer spilled out several of its contents. What fell out: admittedly, mostly race shirts. I laughed out loud and became determined to clean out said drawer.

   However, when I went to clean it out, I found myself reminiscing over each shirt.

 "Oh, I can't throw that out! That was my KY race. Nope, not that one either, I did that one with Dawn. Oh man, I'd forgotten about this one- I threw up after it, but it was a worthwhile race, proving to myself new milestones. Nope, this shirt does not fit me anymore, I am 10 lbs heavier, but maybe I will fit into it again one day... That was my best time ever!" and so the dialogue went. 

  Many of my shirts I do still wear, but let's be honest, one can only wear so many shirts in a weeks time. Even if going for a run every day and then wearing one for work. But, I can't exactly go around wearing my medals, now can I? Now, that would be strange. A shirt....that is a wearable item. 

 My race bibs go into a little book I keep to log all the races I do. I love every now and then looking back on those and remembering. But each shirt comes with memories embedded in it. Memories, generally, of accomplishment of some sort.  Each shirt is kind of like a trophy in a way. 

  A Best Time (PR for runner speak)

     A victory of knowing I could do something I once thought impossible

         Tears, sweat, vomit (sorry to be descriptive, but sometimes it is necessary for explanation) and all: the shirt was my trophy for a race that I will never earn a trophy for in the top of my age group, but I do feel at the top of my own game. So it becomes a trophy to me in that way.

   Some races I have finished after a painful time: mom's death, life transitions, struggles at home- and finishing a race at times help me know I will be ok. It's a journey roughly traveled, but paved in part with running, and a shirt at the end of it . 

        A run with a friend. 

   A marker in time for personal growth

Somehow, quite honestly, every race means something in its own way. So, I will keep the over stuffed drawer of shirts. 

       It's my version of scrapbooking, runner style. 

Pure Joy from the Heart

Like a child, I sat on the swing in the backyard and had a contest with my kids of who could reach the branches first with their feet. I  tossed my head back and laughed, as the tickle of the up and down touched me in my tummy.  Pure joy. From head to toe. It was a moment to capture in time- both with my kids and even a moment for me to pause and realize yet again the new found lessons I am discovering about joy.
    When true joy is found, words cannot express it and pictures can't quite paint it and songs can't sing it. But it flows and it shows because it is felt from within. True joy starts in the heart. True joy shines beautifully and  shows in the laughter, in the smiles, and it even shows in the strength when times are hard.
 

•                                         

 When feeling the best and beautiful things in the heart, that pushes outwards onto others. 

  This is a season I am discovering all new lessons, new aspects of life, new things about myself, new dreams. To capture it in words is extremely difficult some days because it runs very deep. 

    I have been in my new career with the marathon office for a month now. When I set out to begin this post, I started with wanting to give a simple update on my job, my new home, my new "family".  I set out to write about it because people ask me about it all the time. My answer is continually the same: I  LOVE IT. I don't know how else to word it because the journey on which it is taking me is one hard to form into words. I believe that is because the journey of moving into this job is about such a plethora of unique aspects of life that the journey is creating a new stirring in my heart- one which cannot be seen or touched or, in this case, described.  

 However, I have been asked enough times by enough people that I am trying to formulate it a little better here.

   I really do love my new job. I am taking in so much information about the Marathon that I feel like a sponge which can't get enough water in it. I am soaking it up. I am learning all new aspects of the racing industry. I have to ask a lot of questions, but I have the feeling the next few months will be that way as I work through this event as part of the staff (and not a runner of the event this time) for this first year. I am not lying when I say that processing registrations and talking to runners who call is very fun for me. I truly enjoy that. And it's a great way to learn about how the event takes place. 

   I very much enjoy my co workers. They are fantastic- supportive, fun, encouraging, helpful, knowledgable, and hard working. A great mixture of having a fun time and getting the job done. They have treated me as family from the beginning. I have never felt like an outsider or even really like the "newbie".  

  I wrote a blog a couple months back called "It's like going home...." , that going to the marathon office was like going home. And the transition of moving from the coffee world to this job has been truly like going home. I truly love what I get to do now. And there is no dollar that can be placed on that.

  God always has amazing plans, when we let Him work. They form in His timing, not ours. And as I walk this journey of a transition between careers, His plan unfolds all the time to me. I see Him in all new ways, which causes me to see myself in all new ways. Discovering new depths I did not know existed. Seeing Him work His ways in all new avenues. I am excited to feel and experience these things. Few people know, but I actually tried to get in with the Marathon office a few years ago, when I was ready to leave the Starbucks world. At that point, there wasn't a place for me, and so I moved into my previous barista position. All part of His plan . I am confident that my years there taught me many lessons, brought new people my way, and brought about a preparing for this point in life. When that didn't work out 3 years ago, I didn't really believe I'd ever be there, but God has a way of working things out differently, and here I am today. And the timing of it all has been perfect.

   As Helen Keller said, "The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched.They must be felt within the heart." 

   I am experiencing that truth in this season, which is why I am often at a lack of words. Yes, some of it has to do with my job. But more of it has to do with all that I am learning and growing into about myself as a woman during this time of transition and learning.  Eventually I hope to have more adequate words. 

  The laughter I can feel when I arrive home and play out through swinging with the kids (or jumping on the trampoline in the rain, or sitting quietly with the family on the porch reading...) is part of the true beauty I am finding within. 

 One day at a time.

  

Our swinging contest...

Pure joy shining through what is beginning to fill the heart....

 (L, Elizabeth, Top, me, bottom, Joseph. ) And by the way...I totally won:) 

Discovering

Recently, I had to have my credit card ended and a new one sent to me because someone had stolen mine somehow over the internet. When I called my bank to see what was happening, they told me to prove I was Rachael McKinney. They asked a few questions, along with social security numbers and the normal things along those lines in order to establish that it was in fact me.  In other words: Prove to us that you are Rachael McKinney. 

I thought about this as I have been thinking and processing the tough questions of life lately as to who am I?

A social security number identifies me to the government, but doesn’t tell who I am of any worth. Somehow, these questions can be confusing. I’m 31, for pity sake, shouldn’t I understand and know who I am by now? Yet, as life throws curve balls and shifts, that question is challenged in me each time, and each time it is challenged, it seems harder to answer, more confusing to understand. 

Perhaps I overthink it; or perhaps I’ve never truly embraced who I am until now. A recent personality test taken tells me I am a harmonizer....I am a people  pleaser and that is where my energy gets used. This same personality test told me that in the other categories of life, I have very little energy left, so I resort to that harmonizer in me each time. Much validity lies in that statement. I please others before I please myself. Yet this doesn’t always seem to pan out in the best ways for me. 

So, I have begun asking myself really tough questions; questions that I find difficult to answer in ways that challenge all I’ve known my entire adult life. 

I am Rachael McKinney. I am a wife. I am a mom. I am a writer. I am a runner. 

    Those are the statements that so often come to my mind when I am asking myself who am I? 

And yet, those are not who I am, they are what I do. There is a difference, I believe. But it becomes so hard to separate and differentiate between what I do and who I am at the core. 

  

Words speak volumes to me. When I say volumes, I mean that I hang onto words like a monkey hangs on a tree. I remember them for days and months to come. They have the power to tear my heart apart or build my spirits up. I have often let words of others’ define me in ways that God has not. Yet I struggle to not allow those words, be good or bad, define me. And in recent weeks and months, this has become a clear picture of a part of my struggle of who I am at the core. 

So I have begun asking myself Who Am I?  Not in name, not in jobs, but who is Rachael McKinney? Who does God say I am and who does He want me to be? I wish it were as simple as just answering. Yet, for me, being an overthinker much of the time, being one who holds onto words, answering this questions has become complex. 

I have had to sort through the words of others, whether good or bad, and allow the words of what God says to me be what defines me. And then I can take those definitions into life and strive to become what He wants me to be. 

I am His child. A precious daughter of the King. Not to be thrown away or stomped upon or allowed by anyone else to be defined. I am His princess. 

    I am loved. Deeply and truly loved how I so desire to be loved. It’s not based off what I do or what I say, but it is based off simply pure, unadulterated love. 

 I am forgiven. I am covered in His grace. Every day. I mess up. All the time. But I am covered by His grace.  

      I am free. Free to be me in Him. He has made me wonderfully and beautifully, as Psalm 139 tells me. I am free from sin, if I allow Him to work in me. I am free from fear, if I give it to Him. I am free from my past. 

These are the things that matter. And yet, so hard to embrace. 

   But these are who I am at the core. And being these, He has then given me abilities and talents and unique gifts that only I can fulfill because of the fact that I am unique. That’s where my writing comes in, my running happens, my passions unfold . They don’t define who I am, but I am able to take who He has made me to be to fulfill things that only Rachael can fulfill. It is in this, that He has given me the gift of encouragement (ahem...harmonizing??) . I love people. I love to tell them good things. I love to listen to them and help them. But somehow, I often allow myself to love them more than I love myself. This comes back to remembering who I am at the core.  I have to allow God to fill me up every day so that I can pour that out onto others. Then and only then can I be used by Him. 

  Others seem to see the good in me more than I myself see it. This is a process I am working through to grasp. To embrace. And as I embrace it and learn who I am, the smile I so often love to pass to others, grows. It is so genuine and cannot be suppressed by the yucky words or the hard times. The smile grows because it is rooted in the depths of security in who God has made me to be. No matter what happens. 

    I have to come to a place of if everything were stripped away: My family, my job, my blog, my running ability, and everything I do because I love it...if all that were stripped away from me, would Christ be enough for me? That is a deep and terrifying question to answer. But when He does become enough, then my joy is full. My heart can overflow. I can rest in Who I am. I can be who He created me to be. 

The complex question of who am I still resonates in me, and I am still striving to answer it. But as I work through the depths of it, I am discovering that though I have not always made the best decions in life and I have made mistakes and messed up, who I am at the core, I really do enjoy. And when I am being who He made me to be, I am happy. I am full and I can better pour out onto others. But remaining in that on a daily basis.... That is a struggle. One which I am fighting to conquer. 

  He has made me a beautiful woman. I don’t mean beautiful like look in a mirror and I’m gorgeous. I mean, He has made me beautiful on the inside. And as I learn to embrace that, the beauty shines through in my smile, and my laugh and my abilities and the gifts He has given me. 

  One day at a time. 

The Father-like boss

                              The  father-like- Boss

In 2007, the time arrived where my family reached a place of my needing to go to work after being a stay at home mom for 5 years. Which in essence, had been our whole marriage. For me, the idea of going to work was intimidating. After all, I had no degree and I'd been a stay at home mom and, quite honestly, I really had never worked in the "real world". I pretty much felt like I had no ability to really do anything. In the process of researching where I could go to work (evening/weekend only because of the kids being so young still) a new Starbucks was opening. Someone with whom my husband worked at the time knew the manager of the Starbucks in the area and connected me to the process and the rest became history...
  That manager was not the hiring manager, but she knew the hiring manager for where I was applying, and simply helped me know what was happening with the process. I filled out my application and an interview was set. 
 I nervously went into this interview. I was young, inexperienced, insecure, and quite honestly, scared. I loved coffee, though, and I enjoyed people, so I took those two things with me and waited my turn for an interview. I'd quite literally never been through an interview process before. I was 25.  I sipped my caramel macchiato and watched as the manager interviewed a person ahead of me. 
  My turn came for the interview and I sat in front of the manager. 
   His name was Jim and he put me at ease very quickly. The interview was fairly short and overall easy-going. Different from how I expected. He must have seen something in me that I did not myself recognize, because Jim hired me on the spot. I have not had an interview experience like that since. 
 Jim became a father like figure to me. Training at Starbucks was not easy. The first weeks were pretty  rough and intimidating. But Jim was always encouraging  me. I can remember taking my barista "test" with Jim, and when I messed up, he was not condescending or rude, but helpful and guiding. He blew the steam wand out, showed me  some tricks and we moved on. Needless to say, I passed that barista "exam".  (and continued as a barista, of course, for another 7 years).
 My first day in the brand new store we were opening, I burned my hand so badly, but not understanding the process of how incidents like that go, I kept quiet, wrapped it up and moved on. (Um, hindsight, that was a very bad idea, as the burn was pretty severe on 3 of my fingers. The burn was due to an improper function in the new machine, but I was rookie and had no idea.) Somehow Jim, as any good manager would, came to know about this burn and inquired about it. Not in a condescending manner, but in a kind, caring manner. Then proceeded to teach me the process of what should be done if that were ever to occur again.
   I ran into some conflict with a shift manager there a couple of times. I cannot remember her name or even the circumstances. But what I do remember is that Jim handled that as well. Like a father to me in some ways, Jim really took me under his wing and taught me much and watched out for my well being, without playing "favorite" to me. Jim pushed and encouraged my ability in interacting with customers and even said he knew I could succeed greatly within the store. He put me at ease. 
  In the first weeks of working for Jim, my husband lost his job unexpectedly. In that process, Jim treated me more as as daughter than an employee. He genuinely cared about what was happening with me and my family and what was to come. Little did I know that what would be to come would be a move to Ohio, a move away from Jim's store.  A drastic change for our lives altogether. Being a new Starbucks employee, it was not typical to be able to transfer to another store, but my situation was unique and Jim helped make that transfer happen for me. Jim even gave my family gifts upon our leaving Florida.
  So Jim was my first introduction to bosses in the work world, and I could not have asked for a more kind introduction. Hard working and value driven, he treated me more like a daughter than an employee. He was the first to recognize the potential I held (it just took me up to the years of the Chef to embrace that....) and he was the first to push me towards better goals, even if our time working together was very brief. He offered me tools of success to walk into the working world from the every day life of a stay at home mom. That transition was tough, but Jim helped it come with more ease. He taught me a bit about doing things I once thought myself incapable of. And I attribute much of my success as a barista in 7 years time to the beginning days of that father like manager I once had.....
  Sometimes you never know how or who you might touch, in your job, as a manager or as the lowest on the totem pole. Jim likely had no idea the impact he placed on the future that laid ahead of me, simply by starting with a smile.

Why I write

While it is unnecessary to explain myself about why I write, I have adopted new readers over the course of the last few months, and so I want to retreat back into time to share from the depths of my heart why I write; why this blog came into existence.
   The title of my web address - java jogger- stemmed from pushing two of my loves (and in part, a piece of my identity) into one space- coffee and running. These two worlds have coincidentally also played huge parts of shaping who I am.  The coffee industry helped shape me through experiences and interactions with people. Not to mention, I love a good cup of coffee.  The jogger... well, running has become a big part of my life. To get up and run is to start my day off on the right foot. I love to be outside, pounding pavement, taking in the different atmospheres of the day. But running also became one of the first things I said "I could never do that" and was turned into something I thrive when I do. running became a significant marker for me in teaching me I can be more than I ever imagined. Running helped get me through mom's death, and even helped shape an event to be done in her memory. Running is now even an aspect of my career life. These two words - Java Jogger- have become symbolic for me in more than one way.
 
   And the title "One day at a time" is also a significant marker of a moment for me. When my mom was in her last months, I spent countless moments worrying if it were my last day with her. So many times I can recall thinking "this is it...." and essentially wasting away the moment because I was so concerned it was the last. One day, as mom was bedridden, and I was next to her side, this concept really hit me. I realized how much of a beautiful moment I was wasting because I was so overwhelmed by thinking about what was about to happen. Instead of embracing THAT day, I was fretting over the day mom would no longer be there. And in that moment, I realized how important enjoying each day, one day at a time, really was. Hence the titles of my blog.
   I have often been asked what I write and why. If you've followed for a while, you understand I really don't have a rhythm to my writing. I cover kind of whatever is in my heart and mind. While my blog started as a place to express the depths of my emotions and grief over losing mom, time has evolved that into being real about struggles i face like depression and anxiety and insecurity. I share my running journey and I share my coffee shop journey. Again, two worlds colliding  .
 I write to understand. When I write, it helps me process whatever life lesson I am experiencing or whatever struggle I am facing. Writing brings some sense of understanding to the moment for me. And perhaps  (as is my hope) my writing will lend someone else a new light into a world they struggle to understand themselves. Perhaps my being real will help someone else be real. I write to understand as much as to be understood. They go hand in hand.  
 At times I have been judged for the openness of my heart in my blog. It unpeels some of my hidden layers at times. But to those I say, Scars tell a story. Everyone has scars, which mean everyone has a story. If you see a person who has a large scar on their body, it is often wondered what happened or why its there. For me, emotional scars tell a story as well. Not all scars are visible, yet they are noticeable in a persons spirit. You may never have guessed I battle depression if I didn't share it here. But that is the beauty of sharing. When I am open about the struggle, I can not only grasp it a little better myself, but others can read and see there can be healing and joy found in the midst of those battles.
 And these are the reasons I write. Because I love it. But also because it brings understanding and reason to events and circumstances. Because being real is beautiful.
 Coffee and Running (Java Jogger). In one sense, my jobs and career. But in another sense, so much more depth and life have come from those two words colliding for my life.
 One day at a time... it doesn't mean I don't/can't plan. It just means I have grasped an understanding of the beauty of that concept.
      And so I will continue to share and to write....one day at at a time.

Reasons to Run

In light of my running adventures, so much could be spoken this morning of reasons I love getting up at 4 am to experience a few miles on the quiet, beaten path.
 Some moments, though, words are no justice for what a picture of beauty can portray.  Only in God's beautifully created world can I experience starting out in the dark of the morning with raindrops tickling my skin, move into the humidity of the morning, hear the bubbling of the river next to me, drink in the beauty of a double rainbow and then end with a gorgeous sunrise blazing around me.
   I love my morning runs and every small wink of sleep I may sacrifice for it is totally worth it on a day such as today.
 

 Happy Friday. 

The Chef

In my years as a barista, I worked in 3 different locations. As I thought about my experiences in each place, and have been recalling stories about the day to day life of coffee, I cannot work through those experiences without referring to the different bosses I have had. No one person is the same, and thus, no boss runs a business the same way. Therefore, each experience I had with 4 different bosses warrants some attention. Because they have played a part in shaping me as much as (likely, more so than) the customers. And so I will recall the previous years of bosses....

                                                  The Chef
  My last coffee shop employer was actually a kitchen, not a solo coffee  shop. This was a new experience for me, moving from Starbucks. Thus, my boss was a chef. He knew about coffee, but his specialty, by nature, was cooking. For me, that was intimidating to some degree in the beginning because, if you know me, I am not a cook. I used to joke that there was a reason I was in the coffee shop and not the kitchen. David would be just as likely to join in that banter. Although by the end of my days, I'd made good progress in learning some basic kitchen (and food, in general) knowledge. I could not go into a kitchen and get a job, mind you, but I'd say David helped me learn a lot in that realm of things. 
  
  David was an Australian with a vibrancy and strong view of life that you just don't find in many others. Upon my first interactions with David, I had to concentrate a little when he talked because of his thick Australian accent. I loved being dismissed at the end of the day with a "Cheers!"  instead of a simple "have a good night."  He knew all kinds of things of which I had no clue about, some of which included fashion, vocabulary, world events and of course, food. He sang silly songs that stuck in your head all day.  And he knew what he wanted to see accomplished in a days work. 

 But David lent me a unique experience in the coffee world. As time passed, he gave me quite a bit of liberty within my realm of the coffee shop. The HearBeat Cafe was the name of our establishment.  One day, between the two of us,(and to be quite honest, I have no idea who started the conversation of this need) we decided we needed new blenders, and from that idea grew a whole new idea of sorts. Somehow, from that grew the inspiration to remodel the HeartBeat Cafe. I was privileged enough to be a part of this new layout and idea. One neat aspect about this was that,  not being in a management position at all, I really did not have to be included in the process. And yet David always made sure I was. He took time to make sure I was included in what was going on, and even consult my ideas on the matter. He made sure, as my boss, that I, as the sole barista, had a part in it all. He gave me much credit where it wasn't really deserved. I was a barista, but the freedom he allowed me to have in what I could do in my job- and even encouraged- pushed me in new ways I didn't discover immediately. 

 Sometimes people would joke about "how do you work for him?" not because he was mean, but more because he would say silly things and at times, people were not sure how to take him on those things. Truth of the matter is, I enjoyed my years under the chef. Sometimes my response to his silly statements would be "I'm not sure what to say" and I would just move on.  But honestly, I learned much about myself in working with him. I've always enjoyed working hard- I don't just say that, I truly enjoy it. But in so doing under his management , I learned to express myself more creatively because I was given the freedom to do so, and that my creative side was not bad. I learned that what was within me, already engrained in who I was(am), were strong qualities that could be built upon to carry me far in who/what I wanted to be. I was pushed by him in some ways in my knowledge of coffee, but even more so in expanding my knowledge of what I already knew and what was within me that could be built upon to use in my job. I also learned much about dealing with conflicting situations  from him. And upon telling David I would be leaving not just as his employee, but the coffee world overall, he was one of my biggest encouragers in the matter, recognizing I was going to enter a new passion, a new world and one which he saw the potential of what I could reach. While he never understood my love of running,  he did not try to convince me to stay, but instead encouraged the dream he could see in my eyes as I shared what my next move would be. 

 The chef was my boss for 3 years, but he also became my friend. I think more than learning about coffee in that position, I learned about life (and food), and my experience within that kitchen is one that will not be forgotten. Unique to the coffee world; unique as part of my story in shaping me to continue moving forward.