What size is this thing?

Growth, while necessary, can be painful.  My last baby brother grew too quickly and as a result, he suffers chronic knee pain.  It was a natural process but somewhere along the line his body wasn’t quite ready for the physical change facilitated by nature.

My body is done growing, at least upwards anyways.  No, the growth I’m referring to is mental and spiritual and at times, it seems a tad bit tight.  See, if you’ve been following along you know that you don’t really know me.  Don’t feel bad, no one does and the reason that is, is because I’m a private person.  I’m painfully private.  Took me years to be obedient to share my gift and even this is anxiety filled.  I’m an artist and I’m sensitive about my -ish.  That being said, you can’t hide your light forever because eventually the flames get too big and too hot.

The flames are proving too much for me and my bush is about singed to the core so up I stand, again, to share the shine of my light, as we all should.  The use of one’s gift involves sharing and that is not something I was familiar with as a child.  Having to learn that process as an adult proved a little difficult.  No, you may not have any of mine, I will get you your own – was my philosophy.  We all know that is not how it’s supposed to be, but hey, I’m a WIP.

Today, I grew, twice.  I reached out and so far, what I thought, desired and imagined would happen, happened.  Now, that’s not to say that things can’t go far to the left but what I’m learning is that it’s not really me that’s growing but my faith.  It feels weird because you hear people talk about it but you can’t recall it ever happening to you.  Oh, it’s happened before but in our preoccupation with (insert whatever) we may have missed it.  I know I have, did and do.  But not this time.  I know we get hesitant when things start to flow so easily.  It’s like running or riding down hill.  You want to take advantage of the momentum but you don’t want to crash and burn either.  Thus my current dilemma.  The Word says, every good and perfect gift comes from the L-rd.  The Word says, pray without ceasing. What The Word doesn’t tell you is when it will come or what it will look like.  Man, I wish my grandparents were alive, they’d know exactly what it looks like but it is not their faith that needs the growth.  No, babygirl has to do this walk on her own, no earthly assistance and that sucks but I got this.

I’m an ambivert with more introvert tendencies but 10 out of 10 people think I’m an extrovert and that is because I’m good at what I do, whatever I’m doing at that time.  I’m a Jack(queline) of all trades and a master of nothing because there is only one Master.  I’m grateful for this growth, as uncomfortable as it is and will be, I’m sure things will level out.  I read that before walking the red carpet, some female celebrities of the curvier nation will put on several layers of Spanx to achieve that glass smooth finish.  Right now, I feel like I’m wearing a waist trainer, the entire collection of Spanx, Assets, corsets and ace bandages ever made.  But like the diamond and the pearl, it takes a lot of grit to get that glory.  I’ll take small breaths.

I read somewhere or heard it somewhere that, and I’m paraphrasing here – the more afraid you are to do something, the more you need to do it.  Now that is all relative but I think in my case it’s true.  Too bad I can’t use Biofreeze or Arnica gel for this pain.  Where is that McDonald’s straw?

Ephesians 5:28-29

I saw this on the opening credits of a Netflix film and had to share as it made me think of the book listed underneath.

“Each gifted man needs a gifted woman to help him to fulfill his objective, destiny and purpose in life. The male and the female should be of one mind in doing the work of God.” -Anonymous

Women are Kingmakers” – Wellington Boone

Guess now you know why it’s called Kingdom building.  Sadly, some women don’t know how to make kings and even sadder is some men don’t want to be kings.  The book I referenced is a quick read but it is so powerful that you might not be ready for it.  I wasn’t. Got to a certain point and papa’ and I were having a conversation and I had to put the book down.  Wasn’t ready for that part yet. See, if you know how to make a king, you can’t force the king to take the throne and far too many men abdicate the throne then get mad at the king for the rules they lay down.  Or, worse yet, the kingmaker is forced to play the role of king.  Sure, we are all kings in our own right but everything has a hierarchy.  Call it old fashion but a man is the head of the house.  A man’s home is his castle and castles have kings.  Kings take advice and counsel from the queen.  To have a happy castle the queen cannot take the role of king while the king is still able to rule.  There will be conflict.  To be king you have to want to be king.  Being king is a huge responsibility but with the right queen at your side your land will live in peace and harmony.

What I’ve come to understand is that the bible is one big puzzle that you have to link together.  28: “So husbands ought also to love their own wives as their own bodies. He who loves his own wife loves himself; 29: For no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it, just as Christ also does the church,…”  When you add on “bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh” the puzzle starts to take shape.

If you let that steep in your mind and soul for a few: loving your wife as your own body.  In today’s society, some of us love ourselves so much we have no room for others because we love our body so much that that is all we show you.  NO hate or shade, I’m just point out the obvious.  If you’re a married man, ask yourself, “Do I love my wife like I love myself?”

I AM a kingmaker or at least I try to be.  Every woman’s king making skills are different but the common goal is the same.  If you’re a man, ask yourself, ‘Do I want to be a king?”  I use lowercase king because Jesus is the King of kings.  Who did you think he was referring to?

#ilovemyself  #knowyourrole  #stayinyourlane  #ilookgoodyoulookgood

What ails ya?

Didn’t I say wait a minute?

We all know life is a funny thing.  When funny things happen, whether we’ve been waiting for them or  not, sometimes it’s hard to take it in.  I have a gift.  I’ve accepted this gift after fighting it for years and so when I’m called upon by to use said gift, I get hesitant because I’m an artist, and I’m sensitive about my ish!

Jesus loves you but I’m his favorite, along with a few other folks who call me fave so I’m taking this time to run and tell the good news of the works of my father.

You all know I have my athletic division RAW and I’m always trying to connect with like-minded individuals so a few months back I applied for ambassadorship with Skirt Sports (google them http://www.skirtsports.com).  I’d forgotten about it and truth be told, even though I asked G-d for it, my faith is a little low these days so I was ok with my try.  Today, in my email I saw a line that read ‘Welcome Skirt Sports Ambassador’.  I frowned up my face because clearly I didn’t comprehend the subject line of the email.  Opened it up and the words read “Yes – that intro means you made the cut!”  My efforts in my kingdom building here have been a struggle, to say the least.  So, I didn’t know how to feel.  I said ‘Thank you L-rd’ but it seemed hollow, so I went and read the email again.  It was only then that I understood that this was part of his plan.  Yes, I know he goes at his own pace and that can be like waiting for the bus to come. Eventually the bus does show up, does it not.  G-d is slower (or faster) than the bus but the waiting is the key.  Leave and you’ll miss it.

Patience has never been a strong suit of mine.  G-d gave me grandparents who made me their world so needless to say, Burger King’s old slogan ‘Have it your way’ was the story of my life.  This ambassadorship is another means to help me build my empire and further spread the good news.  Every good and perfect gift comes from the L-rd.  He evens sends them by email.

I have told 3 people.  It is hard for me to share because I don’t want to come off as bragging.  Don’t get me wrong, my ego can raise up like the Phoenix but I purposely put it here because this, getmended.com is my gift and I want to see how many people in my life really know my gift.  My life and everything in it is an open book.  If you want to know something about me, all you have to do is read.

Hello.  My name is E.J. Powell and I am a Skirt Sport Ambassador.  All praise and thanks to The Most High.  Daddy’s love their daughters!

Thanks papa’!

How NOT to run a marathon

I consider myself a pretty wise and fairly practical person, sometimes.  So when I was asked “You want to run the Shamrock with me?” my first response was nope.  I’d run the Shamrock and being the snob I am, the medals did nothing for me.  But, I reconsidered because I’m all about challenging myself nowadays.  I don’t know how many years I have ahead of me and while running 26.2 miles has never been on my radar, my curiosity was peaked so I re-tracked and said yes.

I will post a video of some of my adventure but lets just say, not training and when I say not training, long runs in marathon training are double digits and I’m talking in the 20s. My longest run to date was maybe 7-8 miles.  Yeah, I wasn’t pressed, see I DON’T LIKE running.  I do it because I can, period.  That and the fact that unlike changing a tire, you can know how to do something but have someone do it for you, I’m perfectly capable so not too many people will run for me.

My run partner left me.  It’s no big deal, I expected it.  I already knew, despite her constant barrage of I’m not going fast, blah blah blah.  NO worries, I was running my own race.  When I hit the 13.1 mark, I was ready to go.  Not because I was hurt but because I was bored.  Yeah, I had music and even when me and my run partner were together, we didn’t talk that much (that is annoying) but my mind was telling my body there were other things we could be doing but my body fought back, so onward we went.  Prior to getting to the 13.1 mark (I NEVER say HALF) I met a woman names Shayla from DC.  She walked with me a bit but then she too power-walked off.  I saw her standing on the side at the 13.1 mark, she tapped out, her legs were done.  I wished her well and trudged on.  Some of the 26.2 runners were heading to the finish and they were all so encouraging.  Seems I was kinda the last runner.  The police car was following me.  At first I felt shame but them I felt like a rock star.  As long as I stayed ahead, I was on pace to finish.  Here’s when the fight started.  VA is for Lovers and we LOVE the military here.  Problem is that if your race is over say 10 miles and held at the beach, you are going to go on a base.  Well, the base closed it gates to the public at 1:34pm and my numb toes were being resistant and I wasn’t going to make it.  I had 2 hours and 5-plus miles to go (as per my garmin) 6 miles according to the markers but I digress.  I was totally going to finish.  6  miles – 2 hours, I got this, even with the numb toes but alas, it was not meant to be.  I missed the gate cutoff and the guy was so sweet about it.  He seemed really bummed but I wasn’t.  I had just done 21.648 miles (my official garmin data) in 5 hours WITHOUT TRAINING.  Now I’ve been training for other things but let’s be real, I don’t like running so it ain’t high up on the list.  I did it to see (1) what the hype was about and (2) would my mental toughness last.

I get the hype. Being on your feet for 26.2 miles is amazing.  I’ve always had mad respect for people who do them but the level of respect went a little deeper today.  The mental toughness, oh yeah, it’s there.  It shows up when it needs to and you don’t even have to ask.  There were times I would look at the overcast sky and close my eyes and walk.  I was unafraid of falling or tripping because I was walking in grace.  I had no runner’s high or nothing like that but I was overwhelmed with the number of high fives I received as I kept trudging along to Shore Drive.  1 mile at a time is all you can do and that is what I did.  When my toes (left foot) came back to life (damn you piriformis) my right calf took over and began to whine with tightness.  I increased my water and did a regular run and it seemed happy.  All was going well but I was quite a ways away from the gate and forge on as I might, I just didn’t make it.  The courtesy vehicle came for me and another runner (it was her first attempt to and her run partner left her too – completely ok) so we all happily boarded the van, quite proud of our achievements.

Here’s the thing about getting a ride. Once you stop, it is soooo hard to start back.  We had 2 options (1) get dropped of at 80th street leaving 3 miles  to finish or be taken back to the start/finish line.  They chose to do the final 3 miles, I chose to go home with my victory.  For me, if I crossed the finish line, I technically didn’t finish and since the finisher gift was a beach towel (yeah, I really didn’t want that) I was ok with my own personal victory.

Getting off the van proved to the be hardest part of the race.  Sitting down, my body went into relax mode.  I did my best Fred Sanford imitation getting off the van.  I’d never been so glad to see a pair of flip flops and a bottle of chocolate milk in my life.  I was sad that I didn’t finish but I learned much about myself.  That I am really lazy, mentally when it comes to running.  It’s boring so need distractions.  I do better running with someone.  My run  junkie buddy Tracy is the only person who has ever truly run with me.  We had a nice run and I didn’t get bored.  We didn’t talk we just ran.

I don’t recommend you follow me lead.  I’m not the best conditioned athlete but I am RAW so I have an advantage.  I am a Real Athletic Woman because the effort I put forth was real.  Didn’t matter that I DNF.  I’m superficial with races, the medal has to be nice and the finisher gift has to be something I’d want.  There are some medals and finisher gifts that I may have gritted it out for but again, I was ok with what I had.

Will I attempt another? I don’t know.  Run Junkie Evans talked me into getting into the Chicago Marathon Lottery.  If we both get it, it will be a fun race, I would probably train for it but this race today showed me that Size Matters Not.  I am a Real Athletic Woman.  RAW is REAL.

As I rode by the remaining runners, I could see the fatigue, hurt, stiffness and body betrayal taking place.  It is a humbling and heart tugging thing to see but it is the humanity at it’s best.  Strangers fighting and encouraging each other, willing each other to go the distance.  Some made, some did not but those who did not, the feat is not diminished.  They are warriors, they go hard.  They (and myself included)  fought the good fight, we kept the face and some of us finished that race.  Those of us who didn’t finish that race we are winners too because we fought the good fight and we always kept the faith.

I read a post that said (and I’m paraphrasing) If you need someone to motivate you, if you need someone to push you then you don’t want it bad enough.  I disagree because we all need a cheerleader.  If we didn’t we wouldn’t feel the need to post things on FB, Instagram, Twitter, Tumbler, etc.  Sharing equals encouraging and yes, sometimes you have to encourage yourself but just because you may require some external encouragement every once in a while does not mean you don’t want it bad enough.  Besides, we never really do anything alone.  Jesus is always there, always encouraging so we shouldn’t be too quick to take credit for his work.

I’m still blown away by the fact that I did that distance without having properly trained and aside from the sore legs, I’m doing fine.

I applaud and celebrate people’s achievements because it’s important to them and if you are in my life, then you are important to me, even my FB friends who aren’t really my “friends”.

21.648 miles.  I may rise slowly (due to stiffness) but still, I rise. And that saying about if you still look good at the end of your workout then you didn’t work out hard enough is, IMHO complete BULL.  Prettiness, IMHO never takes a back seat.  I refuse to buy a busted race photo.  #poseforthecameraNowClickClickClick  I worked out hard and was cut at the end, thanks to face wipes and Baby Lips.  Real Athletic Woman:  MY Real, not yours!

What ails ya?