Professional Disappointments: things you can’t learn from a book

On Tuesday I am going to be on a panel giving a talk about professional disappointments and how those experiences build resilience to the soon to be graduating internship class. Although this doesn’t really require a lot of preparation (because I can tell that story like no other!!), it has prompted me to think about resurrecting this old blog. I read back through some of those original posts, and I was immediately carried back to the feelings I had at that time. Excitement, fear, anticipation, fear, pride, fear, relief, fear... you get the picture. I made that leap 11 years ago, which is really hard to believe, and I’ve come such a long way since then; yet, those feelings are seared into my memory and reading those words can take me back there with such ease. Anyway, not to get too far off topic... professional disappointments: when things don’t go the way we planned... let’s see where this goes.

For me, this probably started the year after I graduated from undergrad. With my bachelor’s degree in hand, my plan was to take a year off and then start grad school. I remember a conversation I had with one of my professors who said, “you should take some time and experience life before you start grad school. Have some life experience under your belt.” Well, that sounded like a stupid idea. Who needs life experience?? I’ve got to get right back to the grindstone and get that master’s degree! I’m not really sure exactly where that plan got derailed, but it took 10 years and a divorce to get back on that track. Life experience happened... a lot of it. When I entered grad school, I was terrified that I was not going to be able to do it. As a single parent of two commuting to the closest school I could get into, I looked around the room and saw all these young faces. I felt incredibly intimidated and like I wanted to disappear; be invisible. Fast forward several months, and I figured out that the professor from undergrad was right... life experience is worth so much more than what can be learned in a book. I found my grove in connecting what I was learning to what I had learned, and I was grateful for those ten years of life.

The next great disappointment came with internship interviews. I had proven myself to be a rockstar at my grad school, and I expected that I’d be well received out in the big wide world of internship programs. I’d worked really, really hard and had made A LOT of sacrifices of time and money. I applied to 10 or 15 programs, had good letters of recommendation, and what I thought to be well-written essays. I poured my heart out through that process, and I was disappointed to discover that I was only invited to three interviews. In hindsight I see a thousand different reasons why this happened, but at the time I knew myself to be a rock star.... a stand out amongst my peers. I was “going places” (with the eventual plan to land back in my hometown where my kids had to remain because of a divorce agreement I had made years before). As I write this and think back to that grad student I was then, I just want to give her a hug and tell her that she really didn’t get the kind of mentoring and advice she deserved. Anyway, that’s another blog... onward with the greatest professional disappointment!!

The big day finally came... my future would be laid before me... where I would be for the next year... the moment I’d been waiting for... the... wait...what?.. how could this happen?... but I’m a rock star?!?!? No!!! This is was not part of the plan!! No internship site wanted me. Well, actually one probably did, but I had decided not to rank it because I didn’t want to go there (the school’s consortium that had several sites in the southwest Missouri and north Arkansas areas). I’d had big plans for myself to be in an APA accredited internship program that was within a 5-6 hour radius of my hometown (where my kids would have to remain), but those plans came crumbling down. Panic and fear and disappointment and fear and shame and fear and self-loathing and... well, you get the picture. Fear. I’d worked so hard. Fear... was it all for naught? Self-doubt and fear... was I not the rock star I’d thought myself to be? Was I going to have to settle with the consortium and some small clinic in southern Missouri that wasn’t APA accredited? Was all this grad school thing really worth it? Not just disappointment... total professional devastation. Annihilation.

In the days and weeks to follow, I would discover that opportunity can be born of the greatest disappointment; that the best laid plans don’t always hold the best possible outcomes; and that it can take a complete loss to show us that there is more out there in the world for us. I vividly remember my friend Brandie saying, “Wilford Hall Medical Center in San Antonio... it’s APA accredited” and my reply, “that’s the Air Force.” Her response: “let’s apply!” My next thought, which I didn’t even have time to express before she was sending off my application materials, was “that won’t happen.” But, it did.

In preparation for writing this and considering the panel discussion, I read a couple of articles supplied by a colleague. One article addressed the advantage one has if she is expected to be a high performer, and the other discussed the underdog effect, essentially that when you have nothing to lose you are willing to take more risks. I reflected on my own situation as I walked a few miles. I had so much to lose, but it wasn’t pride or a need to “save face.” I made that leap to the Air Force because it was the next logical step for me on the career journey. It was also something I would have never considered had I not been in the predicament of not matching for internship. The Air Force provided everything I was looking for in an internship as well as the job security, healthcare coverage, and salary that I needed in order to make it all work when having to leave my kids behind. It came with a lot of risks too... and fear and sacrifice and fear and unknowns and fear.... And, I learned some very valuable lessons by leaping into that fear. In the words of my former therapist: “it will all be bigger and better than you could ever imagine.”

Eleven years later, it is. This life I live now is bigger and better than I’d ever imagined. I sometimes wonder what life would have looked like had I taken the other path, the easy road. I had that choice and turned it down. I could have ended up in a small clinic in Missouri then back in my hometown, which was the ultimate plan at the time. I’m so grateful for the biggest professional disappointment (so far). Life has a way of teaching us so much more than we can learn from a book.

Today I got notification that my separation date from the Air Force is official: 19 Aug 2013

Tomorrow I turn 40

Why are those two things happening together? I'm not sure what to make of it with the exception of I'm getting older, and I dropped my separation paperwork last week. Is that purely coincidental, or do those two events have some kind of connection?

Right now I find myself reflecting on my 30s. What did the 30s mean to me? How has my life changed since 29? What did I expect? What did I accomplish? Any regrets? What do I want to do with the next 10 years?

When I turned 30, I was a married mother of a 9 year old and 5 year old. Emily had just started kindergarten, and I had just started a new job at the Harrison School District. I remember being so excited to have the same school schedule as the kids and to be finishing my time with St. John's on such a good note. My work there was done, and it was time to move on. 

The 30s have involved a whole lot of change and growth. Divorce, deciding to go to graduate school, completing a Master's thesis and then a dissertation, commuting back and forth to Springfield (all those late nights!), giving up just about every weekend for studying, and then the difficult decision to join the Air Force and leave my babies. Sacrifice is the word that comes to mind. Not just what I went through with that decision, but also what my kids have endured. As a result, we've all grown, and we have grown stronger together because of it. I remember the agony of making that decision and the fears of what could come of it. All those fears have been unfounded. Everything has worked out just fine, and I have a great relationship with my kids. 

I've traveled a lot too over the past ten years! New Zealand... that monumental trip! Thailand with Melissa, Alaska and Oregon with Margaret, a solo trip to California with a drive up the coastal highway, New York City on the 5th and 10th anniversarys of the World Trade Center bombings, Washington D.C. for my first Air Force adventure, Boston and another great solo trip with a drive to Cape Cod, Buffalo, NY (Niagara Falls and Lilydale, home of all the best psychics!), San Diego to see my Marine graduate basic training, New Orleans with my best AF friends, and most recently a family vacation to Florida. Family.... I like the sound of that.... in all this adventure and growth and learning, I have also found a "very special friend" who makes me smile, treats my children well, and allows me to be myself. Encourages it, actually.

I've experienced some loss and tears too. The end of a marriage I tried so hard to keep together; an excruciatingly painful decision which impacted so many, especially Austin and Emily. The death of Grandpa Bob, affectionately known as "the grouch," and the end of a life so well lived when my sweet grandmother passed away. I've made some great friends in grad school and the AF, and our lives have gone in different directions. I've learned how to say good bye.... especially when that means putting my own needs first. 

I've run a lot of miles. I wish I could have kept count!! My mind flashes to memories of the endless country roads of Arkansas with some very fabulous women who I could not have made this journey without. My heart aches with pride and love and satisfaction when I think of my wonderful girlfriends!! Both those who run, and those who swim or lift weights or do yoga or chase their kids around ball fields! I have been immensely blessed with friends. I've accomplished two marathons, Alaska and San Antonio, as well as several half marathons, including New Zealand. I met a boy who likes to ride bikes, and I managed to get in a 100 mile ride before closing out the 30s. This has been the decade to push the body to its extreme in order to see what it can do! Thank you legs.... sending you gratitude!

I am a psychologist. I am a doctor. I am a Captain in the United States Air Force. I am a mom, a friend, a sister, and a very grateful daughter. I am a partner to a wonderful man who treats me like a princess. I am so thankful for this beautiful life I have!..... Which takes me back to that initial question of turning 40 and separating from the Air Force.... I think I've figured something out over the past 10 years.... my family and my friends really matter to me. They matter more than anything else, and as cool as it would be to travel the world, live in Europe, do some kind of fellowship, and become a Colonel, I've decided it just wouldn't be the same without "my people." I'm home, and I think I'll stay here awhile. 

Dear 40s, you look so very good! Most of my friends have already met you, and I absolutely love, adore, admire, and respect those women! They set the bar high, and I can only hope to do you proud the way they have! I don't know what you have in store for me, but what I know for sure is that "the best is yet to come!" Let's do it....

"And she lived happily ever after!" -Walt Disney

I haven't done much "observing from the other side" in quite awhile. I think that's a direct reflection of how full and active my life has been over the past year. Probably fewer melancholy moods too. However, this weekend I found myself tearing up over a mealtime prayer on the 4th of July, and I've done some observing over the past few days as to what that was all about. So I thought it might be a good time to write something down.

My friend, Rocky, whose wife is about to pop with the birth of their first child, recently found out he will be deploying in Feb 2012. He's taking it like a real trooper even though the Air Force is making him go to SERE training and the Army's combat skills training. He gets the pleasure of spending nine days running around the woods of Washington state trying to survive in order to "practice" what it would be like to be captured by the enemy. He even gets to kill an animal (his choice: a sweet innocent bunny rabbit or a chicken; I'd do in the chicken). In the end he knows he'll get captured so they can "practice" torturing him by putting him in a small box with sensory deprivation. All the while, he'll be missing both Thanksgiving and Christmas as well as his son's 1st birthday. He'll end up spending 3 months in training and 6 months in Afghanistan, and then, as he's already told the AF, he will exit the military having paid his dues.

Needless to say, my motivation for licensure is in the toilet. I'm taking this as another sign that I need to quit studying for the EPPP and not worry about the licensure test until the end of my commitment so as to avoid that fate for myself. Okay, study avoidance, I know. In all honesty, I have such mixed feelings about this test and passing it. I can't commit in my mind to doing it. I keep going back and forth.... "Yes, this is what I'm going to do even if it means 8 months of deployment; it's the right thing to do." But, I don't want to study! I want to play with my kids and my very special friend!! I want to read fun books and magazines! I want to ride my bike and do yoga and go for runs and drink coffee and look at Facebook and wash the dog or clean the bathrooms.... anything but study!!! The financial incentive doesn't help. The 'making rank' incentive means nothing to me. However, there was one thing that inspired me... Rocky.

Rocky is one of these guys who is just good as gold! He works hard. He took the EPPP within the first 6 months after internship. He doesn't boast about it, and he totally downplays the significance of the accomplishment. He has applied for the child/adolescent fellowship, and he is working on board certification now. He spent his own money to go to Washington DC for a week to chaperone a bunch of kids around our nation's capitol. Yes, it looks good on his resume, but he spent his own freakin' money to do it! He already has a job lined up once he gets out of the AF, which he was honest about with our "deployment decision maker." He just can't bare the thought of not being around for his not-even-born-yet son. He wants to eventually be the baseball coach and all that other good parenting stuff. He wants to do it all right, and he's willing to make some sacrifices for his child (who isn't even born yet!). Rocky talks about knowing "deployment is part of the deal" and that "if I don't do this, someone else has to." He is selfless. He barely complains (I did finally hear him utter a minimal complaint about the aforementioned deployment decision maker). He will hardly get to meet his little boy before he packs his bags to go live in the dust bowl of Afghanistan, and his little guy won't likely know him much when he gets back.

Then there's my friend, Hannah, who has left her husband and three little kids (ages 8, 6, and 2) behind for the past 6 months while she lives in the 120 degree temperatures of western Afghanistan. In a tent, mind you! I could go on and on.... the point is: these are two stories of highly educated individuals who are giving up their lives and going to austere locations for what? Freedom? I don't think that's quite it. Not our freedom. Freedom for the Afghanie people? Maybe. My friends are doing good work. They are serving the men and women who are serving something so much bigger than "freedom." What is it they're doing this for? I don't know. I guess we all have to figure that out for ourselves. We have to find that thing we hang on to in order to get us through stuff we don't want to do. There has to be a greater purpose. Something so much bigger than ourselves. Maybe for some it's money. Others it might be accomplishment. For others a sense of pride and service.

As for me... the next step is licensure, and it carries such a heavier meaning. I'm still searching for the purpose.

An Impregnable Silence

Last post: 11 November 2009.

Today's date: 22 August 2010.

Nine months.... it's been a long time since I've blogged. Believe me, I've asked myself why I haven't written anything, but I keep coming up empty. As I sit down to write again, I realize the lack of blog entries may be, in part, because of the life distractors I've experienced over the past nine months. The holidays, the Outpatient Mental Health Clinic rotation (which almost killed me!), the dissertation, the dissertation, and then the dissertation defense! So much going on in the past several months.... where shall I even begin?

In the Liturgical calendar there are all these green months. When I used to teach Sunday school to the preschoolers, I taught them the song about the calendar with the words, "green is for the growing time." These are generally the weeks/months between Lent and Advent with the exception of those few "white" weeks we call Easter (aka: Celebration!!). I've been in a bit of a growing time for the whole freakin' year, but I'd say the hiatus from blogging, and its subsequent silence especially punctuates a growing time for me. See, in the growing time that's when we are busy with day-to-day life, the doing, and we don't even notice what's going on within us. We don't even recognize it until we stop, look back, and say with astonishment, "What the heck? Where'd you come from? My how you've grown! How did that happen? Just look how big you are now!" You can't see it in the midst of the act of growing. It's only in reflection that we can see just how far we've come.

I recently got to spend about an hour on the phone with a very dear friend who I had not talked to in... gee, not even sure? at least six months or so.... I was able to catch him up on all the happenings of my life over the past year. We eagerly swapped stories about where life has taken us, what we're doing now, and how much things have changed in the past year. This friend had been an almost daily part of my life throughout grad school, and he knew the ins and outs of my angst related to internship, kids, and future career possibilities. He was one to always encourage me to take the scariest leaps and also one of my greatest cheerleaders. He watched with pride, a smile, and just a tinge of envy as I feverishly threw myself into creating the best possible internship application. He was also there with a broken heart for me when things didn't turn out the way I'd planned. Being a retired Army colonel, he beamed when I talked of joining the Air Force, and without his support and encouragement, I'm not sure I would have "crossed into the blue." The past year and all its changes have sent us in different directions (as he always said it would), but I have a better understanding now for what he had meant when he had talked in the past about his military friendships. He would say, "I had some of the best friends, some of the closest, tightest relationships; people I knew I could count on, and then we'd move; although I'd go on, maybe not ever seeing those people again, I will always cherish those relationships and look on them fondly." Naturally, that was happening to us.... but what a gift to be able to share over the phone the past several months with him. I thoroughly enjoyed hearing his, "I knew it! I told you that would happen!" and "See, didn't I say things would come around!" and "Oh, I'm so happy for you!" and, because he's ever the protector, "Be careful... don't jump too quick." I don't know when I'll hear from him again, but I know I will.

I also exchanged email with my COT friend, Worthington, this week after a visit from some of those Mormon missionary boys (I, of course, practically invited them in to have cookies so I could tell them about my buddy, Worthington, and all our runs together at officers' training! I think those boys were ready to get rid of me!). We both admitted to some slight nostalgia for a hot Alabama summer run as we've both recently heard from new officers just completing COT (we also recognized that we really wouldn't go back and do it all over again!). I shared with him the happenings of the last several months, and the success that has come to me from the gamble I took by joining the AF. I look forward to seeing him again someday.... hopefully stateside!

I think that's the way of military friendships. You're thrown together, usually in a crappy situation, and you have to figure out how to make the best of it. My cohort definitely had to deal with some challenges this year, and I think we bonded in a way that otherwise we wouldn't have if we'd not faced those difficulties together. Our internship class has started to leave.... kinda reminds me of Charlotte's babies in Charlotte's Web. We're floating off in the breeze, one by one, with just a couple left behind to remain in the big red barn. We're grown up now. We're doctors, and it's time to get out there and do our thing. Do what we do.... spread across this great land; from Hawaii to Delaware, California, Mississippi, Georgia, and all the way to Alaska. Some in Texas, Arkansas, Missouri. Others in South Dakota and Florida. Most have already left without much fanfare and only a minimal goodbye. Some I'll keep up with. Others I probably won't, but I'll never forget this time we've spent together.

As for me, I've grown a little too. Okay, I've grown a lot. The calendar stays 'in the green' until early December when Advent starts, and the preparation time begins. There will be much to celebrate this year. I imagine there will be more growing too.

"It's just a season thing. It's just this thing that seasons do. And that's the way this wheel keeps workin' now.... you can't love too much one part." -John Mayer

Out of My Comfort Zone....

It's been awhile since I've posted anything new. It's not that I haven't thought about it. Several times I've said to myself, "maybe I'll write about the trip to San Diego," or "I should write something about marathon training," or "just a simple 'a day in the life' blog might be interesting," but I just don't get around to it. I'm not really inspired. Now, here I am on Veteran's Day... that's a new perspective... my thoughts and feelings about actually having an appreciation for this federal holiday that usually just comes and goes in my ordinary life. However, I find myself not really even that interested in writing about it either. So, what's up with that?

Last spring and early summer I had many conversations with my friend, Larry, about being in transitional places. It's a difficult experience to describe, but Larry summed it up so eloquently when he said it is like taking a huge leap from one side of an abyss, an image that to me conjurred up the beautiful cliff known as Hawksbill Craig (Whitaker Point), then being suspended mid-air, and eventually landing squarely on the other side in territory that is unknown; sort of an Indiana Jones-crosses-the-gorge-over-a-raging-river kind of leap. I've felt every inch of that leap in the last six months or so. Now, I've landed on the other side, feet planted, knees bent, toes forward, chin up. After a few deep breathes, I am able to turn around and look at where I've been, and at the same time, I'm having trouble seeing into the distance of where to go from here.

Last weekend I went home and got to spend a lot of time with friends and family. This trip offered me some time to reconnect with friends as the kids had their own activities going on. I got to sit by the fire with Melissa, Kerry, Holly, and Melinda cooking hot dogs while kids (many, many kids!) ran around in the yard, eventually sleeping in a tent Melissa had pitched. I enjoyed margaritas and long conversations about relationships and life with Holly, Larry, and Melinda on Saturday night. I did a beautiful sunset run with Mary and Zoe. I was home. I had a weekend back over on the other side of that cliff where life was about running with my friends, hanging out with moms, and connections. If there's one thing I've learned living in San Antonio, it's that I have some really, really fantastic friends. Colter and I have talked a lot about moving, pulling up the stakes and trekking out into the wide world beyond our comfortable little state, and the difficulties that come with leaving it all behind. It takes a long time to develop the kind of relationships we have with one another... most of them years and years.

Tonight my favorite intern friend and I went to dinner. Again, we commiserated about this feeling we have of dissatisfaction with our internship thus far. I've wondered how much of that underlying feeling of agitation comes from being separated from my kids and how much of it is truly related to the training. I was sitting out on my deck this evening, thinking about my day-to-day experience with internship, wondering about whether I am even suited for this, questioning the idea of even being a psychologist in the military, and I had this sort of epiphany, a quiet thought that seeped in and hung in the air. It came as I was reflecting on practicum and how much I enjoyed working with clients in Springfield- how satisfying that was. I am out of my comfort zone... Can we be totally engaged in a new workplace, a new job, when we're this out of our comfort zone? What would I tell a client if she came to me with this sort of dilemma? I think I'd tell her that she at least needs to consider that it might not be as much about the job as she would like to think it is. Maybe she's just still trying to recover a little from a breathtaking jump over a death-defying gorge?

This weekend brings Mary and Jackie, Margaret and Bob, and Rachel to San Antonio to run the Rock 'n Roll marathon. We're going to take our time, walk some, and just enjoy eachother's company with the only goal being to finish the race. How's that for bringing the comfort zone to Texas!

"It's My Pleasure"

This morning I am sitting in a hotel room in Washington D.C. I am on a "TDY" (training-something-something) for ten days to learn about deployment psychology. Basically, that includes all aspects of deployment from the soldier's experience to our own as psychologists with a specific emphasis on training us to provide evidence-based treatments for PTSD. Mostly the training has been rather boring (powerpoints), but we did get to tour Walter Reed Medical Center. I'll get to that, but first I want to tell you all about the experience of traveling in uniform.

Capt. Smith, Capt. Cassidy, and I decided to wear our uniforms traveling to D.C. because we were trying to get through the trip without having to check a bag. Boots take up a lot of room in a suitcase. In San Antonio where military personnel are a dime a dozen, we are not really even noticed so I forget how much one stands out in uniform. I mean, at home I can wear my uniform to the grocery store and can guarantee I will run into at least a couple of other people in uniform. However, in Dallas they are not as used to seeing people in uniform. Maybe it's because people in the Dallas airport are from so many different places, but we were thanked several times for our 'service'. We agreed that this puts us in a bit of a moral dilemma. How do we respond? What do we say? We're not so sure we deserve 'thanks' at this early point in our military careers and there is an assumption that people seem to make because we're in uniform (the assumption being that we have actually done something!). Do we say "you're welcome"? Or respond with the natural inclination to say "thank you" back? After much discussion we decided the best response would be, "my pleasure." This response both acknowledges the person's gratitude and does not take credit for a service we don't really feel as though we have provided (at least that's what we came up with!). So we tried out our new response as we strolled through the airport. One very energetic gentleman grabbed my hand, shook it excitedly, and expressed his just-short-of-tearful appreciation for what we were doing. I refrained from explaining to him that I'm just a psychologist and at this point had only been soaking up government dollars (just this trip is costing you all, the taxpayers, around $3500!). However, the event that left us all speechless was when we requested our check from our lunch at Chili's, and the waiter told us that our tab had been taken care of by a 'grateful American.' Still just writing that I feel a heaviness and a sense of awe. The kindness of people is amazing. We walked around with our jaws dropped for several minutes after that one and rationalized it by telling ourselves that someday we may very well be deployed, which will give us an experience to make us feel as though we might actually deserve this.

Speaking of those who deserve the appreciation that the grateful American expresses, I got to see several of those real soldiers at Walter Reed. The day started with lectures, but by mid-morning we were observing the instructor do an interview with a traumatic brain injured patient. This young man is 33-years-old and his beautiful and articulate 27-year-old wife sat with him on stage as the interviewer asked questions about his 15 months in Iraq and the blast that took his left arm as well as his memory of his college days (and Iraq). Patrick is lucky to be alive. Kat has grown up a lot and is now married to a different person who she will spend the rest of her life caring for. It was gut-wrenching to listen to them tell the story of just how close to death Pat came especially since the blast happened in the very last week of his tour and he had volunteered to go back out on this brief mission. He regrets not just staying in the office that day. The anger, the grief for a life together they lost, and optimism about the future was palpable in the room as they spoke. Pat was an English major in college, a left-handed writer, who joined the Army after 9/11. After watching this couple, I realized that one of the most difficult aspects of TBI is that it robs a person of their personality. Kat is loving a different man than she married. She too is a warrior.

At lunch I observed several amputees in the cafeteria getting their trays, paying for their food, and making their way through an ordinary day at the hospital, probably one of many. There was one young man in a wheelchair. He had lost both his legs and both of his arms. I tried not to stare, but I watched as he managed to get his tray on his lap, balance the plate of food, and still fix his own drink. I resisted the urge to help, knowing this is his journey; his work. Another gentleman was on crutches with both his left leg and left arm missing. Looking in the faces of these guys, I saw a determination to carry on with life that conveyed a sense of, 'today is just another day'; no different than the faces I see walking down the streets of Washington D.C. Ordinary yet so different. It was awesome to see the state-of-the-art facility that is Walter Reed. If you ever want to see government dollars put to good use, just go visit that hospital. They have facilities to train these guys to not only get back to tasks like walking, running, and driving, but also to do the things they enjoy like hunt and fish in wheelchairs or with prosthetics. The people who work there are so enthusiastic about what they do. I felt proud to be an American. Humbled to be considered a soldier.

So... now when I get thanked in the airport, I have a point of reference. I know who these grateful Americans are thanking, and I can think of these guys as I respond... "it's my pleasure."

Welcome to Texas!

So, I've been meaning to get another blog written but haven't had time. I told myself, "no more fun time on the computer until the data for the dissertation is all in!" The spreadsheet is done!! Now I have time to write about my run last weekend...

I got up early and drove out to Medina Lake. Being a girl who grew up in the Ozarks where lakes and rivers were aplenty, I have found myself wishing for tall trees and natural, unchlorinated water. It was dark, but as I drove I came across a bridge that had water below. I knew this had to be the place! I drove out about another 7 or 8 miles. I was still not seeing a dam or a lake as the map had predicted, but, at this point, I needed to get running so I pulled off the barely traveled road to park. I headed down the road toward the river. There were very few cars and probably only about four or five houses along the 8 miles it took me to get down to the river. It was very nice and very much like home (except I had to pretend the trees were taller!). I saw about 10 deer! Again, much like home. As I was running down the hill leading to the river, off in the distance I could see the lake! Beautiful! It looked sort of like Table Rock- lots of bluffs/rock along the edges. I couldn't wait to get there so I could see it up close. Much to my disappointment as I approached the river, I saw several "NO TRESSPASSING" signs and the river had a fence around it. Huh? A river with a fence? That's weird. Now that I think of it, everything had a fence. The few houses I saw had fences around them. The pastures... all fenced. As a matter of fact, even the deer were residing within a very tall fence. I stopped on the bridge and admired the view of the river, wishing I could get down there and dip my hands in to wipe away some of the sweat that was accumulating on face (salt in eyes = not good when running). I headed back up the hill, making a turn to the right in the direction of the lake. I ran another couple of miles, thinking I would eventually get to the lake. Nope. I made it to a 'T' in the road that had a big fat sign saying, "No public access; private property only." Hhhhmmm.... so where does a girl go to see some water around here? I headed back to my car, finished my run, and as I was driving back toward the highway, I came across a road where I could turn to the left and see the lake. Here it is! I turned down this road and was promptly met by a woman on a golf cart. She informed me this was private property, a resort, and they weren't taking any guests. I apologized and explained that I just wanted to see the lake. With a warm smile and a generous spirit (sarcasm), she indicated I could park and take 5 minutes to look at the lake. I did just that, walking down the hill to get a better look. As I was leaving, I stopped at the golf-cart-guarded-gate and asked if there were any public access places. The nice, Texan lady (sarcasm) informed me that the lake was privately owned by all the landowners around the lake. Only the water was public, and you can't get to the water without going on the private owners' property. "Interesting," I said and explained how I was from Arkansas and pretty much all the lakes and rivers are accessible to anyone. She informed me that this property had been in her husband's family since 1910, and all the landowners had gone in together to build the dam (that's the dam I was thinking I would run across; Table Rock style, WRONG!). I whole-heartedly thanked the lady for allowing me to look at some water and for the history lesson. She cautioned me about running along the roads here (she has no idea how many dangerous highways I've run on), and she informed me that parking along the side of the road could result in me getting met with a shotgun. Welcome to Texas!!

Eventually, I wandered into the little town of Castroville. I found an inn... where I was able to pay $3.00 to access the Medina River. The inn was on the national register for historic places (The Landmark Inn for those of you who know something about Texas or historical places). I got the tour and then was able to enjoy a leisurely walk on the grounds. I scoped the place out quite well, and when I realized no one else was walking the grounds, I took my big chance. After getting up the gumption, I stripped down to undergarmets and jumped in! It felt AWESOME! I hurriedly got out due to my fear of snakes and the fact that I couldn't see the bottom of this river. I felt vindicated! Finally, I got to swim in a Texas river! Refreshing!!

On a completely different note, my brother, niece, and Austin came to visit me this weekend. We went to the Shlitterbahn (I think that's how you spell it?). Texans have gotten so savy with their water use. These folks in New Braunsfel have figured out how to take ordinary river water and turn it into a water park! Yes, unchlorinated water is piped into water slides and pools for lots (and lots and lots) of people to use. I was actually wishing for chlorine. The park is built along the Comal River, and you can see the people riding down the river on tubes. Google this activity... this tubing thing. You will not believe the numbers of people who float around on these tubes! And we complain about tourists on Memorial Day at the Buffalo! It's very interesting.

And, finally, in Texas everyone has a tattoo. Period. Not much else to say about that... I'm starting to think they're born into the world with these tattoos. If you're under the age of 18, then you get the almost permanent ones. All sorts of things on their bodies- names, dates, memorials to dead grandmas, and, my personal favorite, Jesus: black velvet style. You know what I'm talking about... those velvet "paintings" that are sold on the side of the road. That Jesus. You might also conjure up your favorite image of Jesus on a plate; except think about it on the side of 300 pound guy's leg. :)

Gotta love me some Texas!