You Only Live Once.

Yo yo yooooooo...

So I was totally Debbie Downer in the last blog. I sincerely apologize for that one. But you can't be Super Susie all the time, now can ya?

Anywhooooo...I went to Reno, and it was absolutely mind-blowing.

It was magical.

It was perfect.

Are you ready for this re-cap....in three, two, one, ok goooooo....

Hopped in my car after work Sunday night and headed to Meats (Taco Bell) and Treats (Dairy Queen) with great friends. After successfully expanding my stomach beyond it's comfort zone, I then drove to Bend to pick up my accomplice on this mission not so impossible.

The mission: Meet Dean.

Drove 6 1/2 hours from Bend to Reno feasting on Swedish Fish, Teddy Grahams, Ritz and Jiffy Reduced Fat, oh, and cookies, banana chocolate chip cookies. Almost hit a family of deer going 85, then actually did hit a rabbit going 85, had a moment of silence, a tear might have crested my cheek bone, and then we arrived...

at the border of California and Nevada. There was a brief pit stop at a bar called The Eagle's Nest where we met the fire chief and I used the bathroooom.

We pitched a twin size tent in what we found out was a housing development come morning time. We slept next to the highway directly on the border of California and Nevada. Slept is an overstatement. There were about three hours of attempted rejuvenation in which we were largely unsuccessful and then we hit up the Westside Cafe for breakfast.

From the Westside we headed to the site of the mission. The Grand Sierra Resort.

I dolled up in a casino bathroom.

And then we perused the resort, scouring the scene for Dean.

I was anticipating a situation in which I'd have to turn on my charm and twirl my hair, blow some bubbly smiles and maybe an excessive amount of fake words dripping with make believe sincerity, all in order to get into this conference. This conference where Dean was speaking. He had told me prior to the conference that it was up to me to get in. He couldn't get me a pass or meet me before or after the seminar. If I wanted in, I had to work it out. So I was anticipating the worst.

God sprinkled some providence over that casino. He really did. Because we were just walking down the hall when we came upon a line of people. As we approached the front of the line, there he was. Dean was just hanging out in the hallway doing a book signing. I didn't have to sell my soul to get into the conference. He was sitting in the hallway!

So I got really flustered. Started sweating a lot. And had to sit down to collect my thoughts and throw some prayers up to Jesus. This was really happening.

I was going to get to talk to Dean Karnazes about the possibilities of making a dream come true.

The line dissipated and I made the move. I darted in as he was packing up his bag to head back to his hotel room and catch his flight out.

At this point there are puddles underneath my arms but all I care about is getting some words with Dean.

I introduce myself and ask if I can walk with him for a minute. There is another woman with us who is going to show him around the conference center but he asks her if he can have a few minutes with me. Can you believe it? Dean asked someone else more important to wait, so that he could chat with me!!

So we sat down at a table nearby and he poured me a goblet of water. And then we proceeded to have a most magical conversation in which he gave me tons of pointers on how to obtain a sponsor, told me I was legit, and offered to give input on anything that I come up with in the future. We kept eye contact the entire conversation and he was present and personable. I loved it. It couldn't have been more perfect.

Mission accomplished.

From there, my accomplice and I decided to celebrate. Adrenaline junkie style. There was this contraption called The Ultimate Rush hanging out in the parking lot of the resort. Sort of like the swing here at camp, except 20 times taller and you're not sitting in a seat, you're wrapped up like a burrito.

I had to pull the cord that sent us plummeting through the air.

It was worth the $25.

From the freefall we ended up laying in a park in the sun for hours as we waited for my brother to get home from school. Double whammy. Not only do I get to meet Dean, but I get quality time with my little brother. Not only do I get quality time with my little brother, but I get to indulge in burgers and shakes at In 'N Out.

From In 'N Out we head back to my brother's house where I have great conversation full of joy and laughter with my step-dad and his two younger sons. Complete answer to prayer.

I invited them all to family camp. We'll see what happens.

Hugs and then we hop in the car to Tahoe. Driving to my cousin Jay's house for a night of rest under a roof, rather than a tent.

We pit stop at a pier to watch the sunset and who do we meet but 21 yr old Richard, the pot-smoking "pardon me" boy who spilled his life story all over us in a period of 5 minutes. I learned about his ex-girlfriend's drug addiction, his parents ex-communication, the parameters of his job, and all his hot spots to get drunk in Tahoe. Our cue to leave was his a cappella rendition of Jim Morrison. I stifled my laughter as we excused ourselves kindly.

Oh the places you'll go, oh the people you'll meet. I pray a guardian angel over you dear Richard.

From the pier we made it to the apartment. Let me just tell you that my cousin Jason is really cool. He's a phenomenal artist, as is his roommate Sean. Their apartment is decorated in color and creativity. And it's awesome!

After another night of distressful rest we woke up to cinnamon rolls. And promises of a perfect time of climbing. Jay took us rock-climbing and although I'm not the biggest fan of scaling cliffs, I had a rather enjoyable time. I liked the watching more than the actual climbing. I haven't quite figured out why I don't like it. Maybe it's the painfully ragged fingertips it leaves me with, or the utter uncertainty of where my hands or feet will hold on next, or maybe it's the complete trust I have to invest in the person belaying me. I had fun. But I'm not sure I'd do it again.

From climbing we hit up all you can eat pizza at the round table. All you can eats are stupid. I always find myself on the tail end of an all you can eat, thinking why? Was it really worth it? This disgusting unforgivable pain I feel. Apparently it was, because it's not too long before I find myself at another all you can eat. Thanks America, for inventing the all you can eat buffet.

Feeling disgruntled and uncomfortable we hit the road headed back to Reno where I'm aiming to get one last bit of quality time with my brother before I head back to glorious Oregon. Turns out my brother's in a mood. My step-dad likes to joke that he's menstruating. At this moment, it seemed true. I knocked on my brother's bedroom door to invite him to hang out for a bit and he sloughed me off like the dead skin settled on his windowsill. He was rude and cold and hurtful. So I left him. I left him to sulk and hit the road to Bend.

The car ride home was full and the conversation was rich.

And then we nearly ran out of gas. The light came on with 42 miles to the nearest station. We later learned that my car gets 43 mpg. Yeah. Ridiculous. Ridiculously awesome! Needless to say, we made it to fuel in time.

This weekend was a weekend of firsts and I had come to terms with running out of gas because it's something I'd never done before. But it was raining so I think God had a little mercy on us.

We arrived in Bend where there was a de-briefing of the trip and a magical meal of home-made spaghetti at 10:30 at night. Perfect.

Sorry that was so long and breathy. I hope you felt like you were there with us at least. That way your time was well spent.

Stay tuned for deep insight into my spiritual life. It's coming very soon.

Sad day.

It's a hard knock life. Dean bailed on me.

I knew it was too good to be true.

And yet I let my silly heart get far too hopeful. And now it's sitting in sullen silence.

I went on an angry run today. I almost screamed. And then I nearly cried.

I knew it was too good to be true.

I should have known I wasn't cool enough to hang out with someone as "Deanspirational" as Dean Karnazes.

I knew it was too good to be true.

And that's why I'm learning what it means to make realistic expectations.

Realistic. What is realistic anyway?

Logorrhea.

Ok. So I've been sharing this new dream of mine with many of you. And now I'm going to blog about it just to make it that much more concrete.

I not only have a life goal of running a marathon in every state before I die, nope, I've decided I now want to become the youngest female to run a marathon in all 50 states. The current record sits at age 28 yrs 9 months.

I've already killed 8 states. I feel like I can massacre the next 42 without even breaking a sweat. Ok. That was a lie. The breaking a sweat part. Not the masscre. I really think I can do this. And so I've begun experimenting with this phenomenon known as "networking." I've always considered networking a business term, something far too important for me to partake in. And yet, here I am...talking it up. Telling anyone and everyone what my hopes and aspirations are for this endeavor.

I want to run 50 marathons. 50 states. 50 weeks. I know I've already hacked 8 states off the totem pole, but I figure if I want to sound that much cooler, I better just start over. Right?

So there it is. I want to take a year of life to run marathons. Scoff. Laugh. Maybe spit a little with the flabbergast that's hanging on your face. You think I'm absurd. I just know it.

So let me tell you a little bit more. A year of life is a lot to commit to running. Here's the locomotive that's pulling this train along...I'm not just gonna run, I'm gonna run for a cause. As people often do.

What's my cause you ask?

I'm thinking of starting my very own version of a Break the Cycle Campaign. I want to be an advocate for children of addicts. Considering I am one, I think this is a rather relevant cause, something I'm most passionate about, something not many people fly their banners for.

My thoughts are like drunk chickens running around in my head. They all want out at the same time but they're disoriented with all the commotion, so be patient with me as I try to relay all the raucous in a relatively coherent way.

Addiction is frowned upon, yes? Addicts are scorned. They are shamed. They are denied.

Addicts are forlorn. Forgotten. Regardless of what they're addicted to, once they're labeled an addict of any kind, they are catapulted into the land East of Eden, where they dwell in their demise.

They're left to lie in a puddles of unworthiness, disgust, depression. They wade in murky waters clogged with "not good enoughs," "not pretty enoughs," "not important enoughs," "not responsible enoughs."

They are addicted. And they try to remember how it happened. How their world fell apart for lack of a better cliche. They try to figure it out until they realize just how elusive those memories have become. The lucid waves of once happy days slowly fade into the bleak visions of naked egos lying on damp newspapers, their frail papery skin stretched over the jagged bones that cage their broken hearts. Their broken hearts full of frozen emotions. As they try to remember how it happened, they plummet back to reality, the reality they can't possibly cope with. And so they get high. Get high to avoid the void they've become. They feast on whatever they're addicted to until they feel their fingernails scratching the surface of that ever so familiar rock bottom.

I'm passionate about this topic because it riddles my life. I've been fighting to figure out what addiction is, where it comes from, where it leads to, how it's rooted and running through my veins. So many blood relatives hooked on everything but phonics.

So back to my campaign. Break the Cycle. It's rather cliche as well. I'll come up with something cooler later. But until then I'm breathing proof that, indeed, the cycle can be broken. Just because my mom, dad, grandma, grandpa, aunts, uncles, cousins all fell into the clutches of addiction, doesn't mean the sick cycle must continue with me and my family to come.

So I'm going to run my little heart out all over this country, to befriend and belove the children born of addictive parents. Prayerfully, the Lord will provide the avenues for me to achieve this. Marathons are every Sunday. I plan on spending my Mondays through Saturdays serving kids in any way that I can. I'll be volunteering all that I have, all that I am, wherever I am needed. Sharing my story. Sharing my faith. Sharing my hope and my redemption.

Again you say, oh Sabrina, you're so silly. Always dreaming far too big for your own good.

Well I told you I've been networking. Well I'm meeting with the man, the myth, the legend, Mr Dean Karnazes, next week and I have high hopes for our time together. If you don't know of Dean, well let me just get you in this loop. He's an endurance athlete. An endurance athlete to the 10th degree. He's run 50 marathons in 50 states in 50 days people. Yeah, wrap your mind around that one. After reading his book, Ultramarathon Man, I knew I wanted to be the female version of him, or at least cripple my body trying. Ok maybe not cripple, I promise I'll stop before then. But you're pickin' up what I'm puttin' down.

Back to Dean. He's rad. He runs hundreds of miles at a time. He traverses all terrains. He runs marathons before breakfast. He doesn't sleep. Or stretch. He's ludicrous. And yet, I strive to be like him. Because he's incredibly inspirational. He speaks at conferences around the world telling people just how capable they are. Which is what I want to do. I want to relay the message to kids across this country, that they matter, that they are capable, that they are worthy. And I will run through their neighborhoods shouting it.

And there you have it, another dream of mine, siphoned into a puddle of words. Hope you enjoyed splashing in it.

I'll let you know how my convo with Dean pans out. Until then, pray please.

In the real world, not the dreamworld I like to dwell in, a poltergeist just blew threw the building. Yeah, I'm sitting alone in the Muddy Creek Lodge, one of the buildings at camp, and I'm just minding my own, when all of a sudden, the lights flicker, the vents start wailing, doors are slamming, and my heart jumped right out of my chest and scurried behind the couch in the corner. When anything slightly eery happens here at camp, my mind hurdles into rajneeshy land and I can't control the adrenaline surging through my veins. Crazy evil deeds went down in this place long ago and my humanity gets the best of me momentarily when stuff like this happens and then I remember that God is more powerful than any red-coated man with a snake pit and some Rolls Royces.

Turns out we just lost power for a second.

Also in the real world...

...my mom is coming to visit. She's going to enter into this campy world of mine for just over a week and the emotions in my heart are muddled. I know that God is in the midst. I feel Him moving in my heart, and yet, I am apprehensive. I'm excited. And nervous. Pray that God would guide my words. My deeds. My facial expressions.

...the Trazzler editor's liked my article, so much so that they're currently deciding on possibly hiring me as a freelance writer.

...I'm crushing on another boy. In the words of Fat Joe, "I'm not a playa, I just crush a lot."

...I get to visit my brother in a week.

...been binging on music. Spending lots of time alone listening to it. I think I'm more of an introvert than I'd like to be at times.

...learning about conflict resolution...and how to remain brave.

...trying to invite God into the depths of my weary life. Just when the road seems straight and kind, I hit a heavy heart day and feel like I'm careening off the pavement into blurry oblivion. I'm learning that God doesn't only send trials to punish but to pave the way to lands of learning lessons. I'm always learning lessons. Every day of life leaves a lesson learned.

My lesson today: sheet checking for stains may seem futile, and two hours of repetitive parachuting motions may be taxing, and the monotonous sounds of a laundromat may be enough to cause hysteria, but serving campers through spotless laundry, although uncanny, is serving nonetheless. I think I forgot my servant's heart at home today, which is why my attitude was weak and insubstantial, and my body likewise. Me lesson is to never leave home without my servant's heart. Suffering ensues lest I forget.

Say hello to word vomit.

The end.

Petty Campaign.

I have 12 followers. So did Jesus. Just sayin'.

So hey guys...I have a little favor to ask ya...I entered my first official writing contest...you know the kind with actual prizes and promises of future freelance writing contracts...and I need your help.

I wrote a baby article for this travel website called trazzler.com. Baby as in short, not as in tiny human being.

The contest winners are determined solely by the people...which means you gots ta votes for me. It's as easy azzzz....going to trazzler.com and creating an account.

I think this is their method of monitoring you so that you only get to vote one time. I know a lot of you are fanatics of mine and you'd like to vote 700,000 times for my article...but unfortunately for me, you can't.

So once you've created your account just type in bend, oregon into the search engine. My article is the tenth one on the list. It's called Eating Good Food Without Moving Much in Bend, Oregon. Click the article. Read it. If you like it, click the save button in the top right corner...and that slight movement will register a vote. If I get the most votes, I win!! So tell all your friends.

If you don't like the article, but you still like me, you should vote for it anyway. Whadya say?

http://www.trazzler.com/trips/taste-of-thailand-in-bend-or-97701 there's the link too...in case you're baffled by this whole computer internet navigation techy savvy business. :)

Thanks friend!!

Summer.

It is finished.

The wedding is over. I made it through. Captured all the most important moments. Now I just have 8 hours of footage to sort through and edit. No big deal right? Ha.

It is finished.

I moved out of my old room and into a new one. Sonia and I are sharing a room this summer. I'm on the top bunk. I think I'll keep a tally of how many times I rack my head on the ceiling over the course of the summer. Should be fun. I really am so stoked to share a room with Sonj though. Not only do I save money but I get my best friend in my presence always.

Summer is nearly here and I'm freakin' out. It's wild. Daniel, Sonia, and I were dreaming about the future again when we realized that we only have 4 months and 17 days left at camp. Wow. Our summer interns start arriving this week. One of our roommates is getting here on the 14th I think. Crazy talk.

Our group is about to nearly double in size. We're at 11 and we will be at 19 by the middle of June. So crazy!! I just know the next four months are going to leap over my head and before I know it we'll be moving out. I'm certain it will be as painful as going through a divorce...except for without the consent. Being pried away from the people I've come to know and love so deeply is going to be so traumatic. Oh man I can't think about it.

Needless to say that's what's on my heart right now and I'm already grieving. Not ok. Jesus help me to remain present and intentional. To dwell in this moment. In these details. Not those of 4 months from now.

Purple Mountain's Majesty.

For once I'm at a loss for words.

I'm caught in a flurry and my limbs are flailing trying to grab onto all that I'm feeling right now.

I'm exhausted.

Yet I'm momentarily refreshed.

I'm frustrated.

Yet slightly at ease.

I'm disappointed.

Yet desperately hopeful.

It's uncanny how much a short run through the countryside can do for my soul.

This day was long. Stretching. Fraught with flexibility. It's been three weeks since we've had a normal camp in so housekeeping has been full of menial tasks that have been taxing to my spirit, one of them being carpet cleaning.

Apparently camp carpets are supposed to be on a four year cycle, meaning that every carpet in camp will get cleaned within the span of those four years. Our carpets haven't been cleaned in the 12 years that camp has been camp.

Cleaning carpets is demanding. It's arduous. It's filthy and it's faithfully full of tired muscles and droopy spirits. The past couple days us housekeepers have been on a carpet cleaning rotation and not one of us has anything good to say about it.

So here I am, trying to find God amidst the monotony of cleaning camper carpets.

And there He was. Sitting on a bunk bed hanging out with me while I pushed the awkwardly long metal vacuumy contraption back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, spewing and sucking, spewing and sucking, spewing and sucking, sucking the 12 years of pubescent footprints out of the rancid carpet.

You haven't lived until you've reached into a two foot deep metal bin full of carpet scum, armed with nothing but a frail trash bag wrapped around your twitching fingers. Highlight of the day was reaching in to find that the bag wasn't all the way around my hand. Direct skin to scum contact. I freaked. And then I laughed to keep from crying.

Perhaps God feels the same way when we beg Him to purify our hearts, to cleanse us of the sin we so easily get entangled in. Direct skin to scum contact. That's got to be hazardous.

My brisk four mile run today was everything I needed to reboot this overworked system of mine. As I crested a final hill before I was to head back home, I was catapulted into this dreamscape. I shouted and threw my hands in the air at the sight. There it was, a pristine pallet of purples and pinks with subtle hues of blue. The skies here are unlike any I've ever seen. A Brady bunch of deer frolicked across my path, bounding up the hillside. Birds fraternized in the nearby foliage.

Then amidst the majesty, I got to thinking about colors. God created colors for us to delight in. We had nothing to do with it. I think of Crayola crayons and the ingenious names they carry, and I think...God created all those myriad of shades, tints, tones. He did that. He imagined that. He brought it into being so that we might delight in it.

And then I'm reminded of the times and places in my life where I've neglected to see the Lord, neglected to seek Him, to pursue Him, to invite Him in. And I am shamed. This God who makes direct skin to scum contact on a daily basis, this God who creates such color to stimulate our eyes in supernatural ways, wants to be in every part of my life. In every part of your life.

So God I invite you into the qualms I feel about this weekend, this wedding.

I have my first gig on Saturday. I'm shooting a wedding. Not with a gun, with a camera. And I'm terrified. I'm so very scared that I'm going to miss the most pivotal moments, that I'm going to break the camera, that I'm going to fall off the roof trying to get the best footage. God give me courage. Guide my eyes. Keep me safe. You've invited me into this opportunity, please come alongside me. Take my hand, fingers laced, and comfort my trembling heart.

It's gonna be good. I know it is. I just know it. Help me to believe it.

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

Right?

Commonplace.

I bought more books today.

Shame on me.

Perhaps I should change the title of this blog from The Adventurist to Compulsive Book Buyer Extraordinaire.

I'm currently in Eugene, Oregon. I ran a half marathon this morning. And now I'm rewarding my body for all it's hard work by slapping it around with some caffeine. You guessed it, here I sit, in another lovely coffee shop. Allann Bros. On West 5th Ave.

The feelings in my heart are mixed up and scattered all over the table. I'm sitting, sorting, collecting them up and cherishing them because they're really just too good. One of my dearest friends, Rachel Myers, has rubbertramped (aka driven) her way to the Northwest to play and run with yours truly. My heart is full. She ran her first half marathon today, and I'm really just too proud.

About three months ago I made training schedules for three friends, not really anticipating that they would follow through. It happens often that I recruit someone to run with me, they get really amped, I make a rather aesthetically pleasing scrapbooky sort of schedule/training calendar for them, they follow it for about two weeks, and then life gets in the way, they stop training, and the aspiration to run a race of any sort just floats out the window. It's unfortunate and my heart can't always handle it, but I think this day makes up for it.

I had momentarily given up on the visually stimulating training calendars of days past and I instead made 6 really ugly black and white calendars on my Mac. Super plain. Super uncharacteristic of me.

And low and behold, three of those calendars were utilized to their utmost ability. Tex Piper, Hunter Hamilton, and Rachel Myers ran their first half marathons today. They followed those petty calendars right to the finish line where they had their very own rendition of a knighting ceremony in which they had a volunteer of choice bestow upon them a solid and rather stupendous commemorative medal. I'm really impressed with the quality and character of the medals this year in Eugene. They've really stepped it up since I ran this race in 2007.

Needless to say my heart is full. Although joy is not circumstantial and pride is never encouraged, I find these circumstances pumping my veins with both as I dwell in the memories of this morning.

Congratulations friends. You did it. I'm so very proud of you.

Ready for a full marathon yet?

Ok, now that I've refreshed you on this day, I need to rewind and take you through some pretty providential happenings of the past couple weeks.

I told you about Janet awhile back, my old lady friend from the local Dairy Queen. Well she pretty much made my intern year the other day, so I'd like to tell you about it, if you'd be so kind as to keep reading.

So more and more the Lord is revealing to me the woman that He has designed me to be. That said...I think I'm called to be involved with old people, in some capacity. I feel so whole and full when I'm in the presence of an elderly person. I lived with now 80 yr old Maxine for two years, I spend, on average, two nights a month with 70 something yr old Marianne, and I buy ice cream approximately three to five times a month from pushing 70 yr old Janet. I love them. And I think it has something to do with their depth of knowledge and experience. I could sit at the foot of an old person and hear their stories all day, every day. I often tell my friends that I can't wait to be old. I know, weird thing to say, but I really am so excited to be an old person who loves on young people, an old person who's still running marathons, roller-blading, and skate-boarding, an old person who still lives life with child-like curiosity. Ok, I guess I can wait.

Back to the point.

Janet. Almost 70. Been working at Dairy Queen for 9 years. Widowed. 6 children. 1 dog. Proud owner of a Pontiac Grand AM and a faith so big it will move you to tears. Daniel, Sonia, and I had been visiting her for a couple months and then our whole intern group met her one night. I told you that story awhile ago. So I invited Janet to come to our Women's Retreat mid may but she has prior plans. So we invited her to just come out to camp to visit sometime. Little did we know that she would take us up on that offer so much sooner rather than later.

She showed up at camp last Thursday mid morning.

The lady interns were helping deep clean a condo for a family that's moving in this week and Janelle, one of our housekeeping bosses, got a call asking if I could come up to the office really quick. The reasoning was not provided.

I thought it had something to do with the reimbursement receipt I had just turned in.

Little did I know that my old lady friend Janet was sitting in the lobby of our main office. Bouncy and beaming, waiting for my arrival.

I was floored when I saw her. This beautiful old woman from Madras had driven the long lonely hour of a drive through the desolation of central Oregon to get to Washington Family Ranch and I couldn't stop smiling the entire time she was at camp. I took her on a tour, telling her a little about the majesty of camp and then I brought her by the condo we were cleaning. Not only did she come to visit, but she wanted to help us clean.

Janet and I cleaned windows together for an hour and talked life. And it changed me.

I made her an elegant lunch of grilled cheese and chicken noodle soup. She shared with us about the way she decided to integrate the Sunday school program at her church to include the elderly people of the community. The old and the young love on each other with the love of the Lord and I want to be a part of it. If only I didn't work Sundays.

Needless to say, I love Janet. I love old people. I love grilled cheese, and I love this year.

Please don't hesitate to find God in the details, in the commonplace, in the ordinary. He is there. Identify it. Declare it. Cherish it. And share it.

It is well with my soul.