Author: Kristine Binder

Lance

Kristine Binder
Are you uncomfortable?
An open letter to Lance Armstrong
Dear Lance,
Thank for finally admitting that you were dishonest. I get it. It is hard to admit you have done something wrong but once it is out there you can deal with the consequences. What I don’t understand is why it took you so long to get this place. You lied and lied. People stood behind you and trusted you. People went to bat for you. You swore up and down that you were honest. You lied.
Now it is not only you that has to deal with your lies but so many others. Those who were faithful to you and trusted you have had their lives turned upside down. Not only have you shaken the core of your faithful but also the faith people had in your charity. What happens to those who trusted you, believed in you and now have no champion for their cause?
The world at large, the cycling world and cancer patients will go on. All will find faith in others and continue to move forward. The people I feel most deeply distressed for are your family members, mostly your children.
Dads are their children’s biggest heroes.  Dads are put on the pedestal by children, especially daughters, as the be all and end all. The world revolves around Dad. You have taken that away from your own children. You may not think it now, but what you have done will stay with them their entire lives. People may not trust them and they may lose trust in others. They carry your last name and will forever be tied to this scandal just as they were tied to your glory.
In your rise and demise are lessons for all of us. Glory is great but greatness earned of its own merits is true glory. Eventually we will all get caught in our lies and deception and it is up to us to take responsibility.  The ripples of our actions travel far and wide.  When people trust us, it is up to us to continually earn that respect by our actions. So many lessons….
Ultimately it is you, Lance, that has to get up every morning and look into the mirror. Do you like what you see?  
Peace,
A sad mom and former fan 

Sad

Kristine Binder

The other night my dog had me worried. She looked so sad and was not acting normally. I went to bed worried about her. I woke up early to check on her and she still seemed ‘off’. I called the vet an decided to take her in. I was so concerned that she had eaten something and was sick/dying.

After an exam from the vet I was given the bad news. I no longer had a running buddy. She was diagnosed with advanced arthritis in her back hips. She actually nipped at the vet while being checked out and that is totally out of character for her.

They recommended X-rays and lots of expensive medications but the hardest hit was that she would no longer be able to run with me.

I guess that this is so hard to stomach because she is the reason I started moving In the first place. Her need for long walks and exercise led to the demand of me to lead …or be lead by her. Little did I know our run on New Years Eve would be our last together. I think what makes this so difficult is that the choice was made for us. We really had no say in this choice.

I thought she would be my running buddy forever. I guess I didn’t think she could get old and tired. She still acts like a puppy most days.The notion that she is getting old makes me realize that we are all getting old. She forces me to think about many aging issues I try to put put of my mind.

Running without her is still something I am processing. It is make more difficult because she saved me this summer. I wonder if that was the beginning of the end. I wonder if her helping me caused her to get hurt andexpedited the aging process.

For now I can’t run outside. I will soon enough…but for the time being I still have my running buddy at the foot of the treadmill looking at me with sad, defeated eyes.

Peace.

 

Winter

Kristine Binder

Winter running is magical. There are so many reasons I love running during the winter months but the first long run of winter is always the best. The cold air filling my lungs. I breathe in icey air and breath out the warm air. I breathe in fresh feelings and breathe out stress.

A Blanket of white covering the land looking so clean and fresh after a good snow. Cleansed of all that ails it… Like me. The soft sound of my footfalls in the snow. Music to my ears.

My running buddy leads the way dipping her snout into the snowdrifts flipping the snow into the air and trying to catch it as we run. She is in her element.

As I run I can smell that someone has a fire burning. Another is making bacon for breakfast and someone else is doing laundry. The smells waft through the air like snowflakes drifting to the ground.

It is a lonely run but the fact that it is just my running buddy and me makes it all the better. The quiet envelopes us as we go. The sounds of her panting and my breathing a rhythm all it’s own. No music needed.

We arrive home sweating, cold and tired. She collapses on the floor and I collapse on the radiator. All is good on a winter morning.

 

Perspective

Kristine Binder

The Saturday prior to Christmas the girls and I worked for the parish. We got up early an I thought I would hear complaints but they quietly got dressed and ready. 13 bundled up and forewarned 14 who didn’t listen and ended up cold after on.

We headed to school to help the parish disperse food and gifts to the less fortunate.

I thought this was about us helping them. Boy was I wrong. When we arrived on this bitter cold morning there was a line of people already waiting.

We positioned ourselves as they opened the doors. I was in the gym assisting with ‘shopping’ and the girls acted as Sherpas, lugging bags to cars.

Families can register for gifts, food or both. They pick up gifts first and then head to the gym to ‘shop’ for food. I carry the bags as they fill them with oranges, potatoes, cookies, and other goodies.

As we shop, we chat. The gratitude expressed by these folks always amazes me.

A few of our guests stood out to me..

First there was a lady that came in for the first time. She was about 50 or so. She started crying from the moment I said hello. She cried and thanked each helper filling her bag. She continued to cry and hug people as she left. My girls took her items to her car and 13 said she was given the tightest hug… One she would not soon forget. A hug that made 13 cry too.

Then there was The the lady in the red hat. She was so nervous. About 65 or so and did not want to take too much food. She said that there were others who needed it more than her. We got to the end of the line where the guests are offered a ham. I admit it is huge but can be shared or frozen as it it’s fully cooked. She didn’t want it and left. A short while later she came back saying she changed her mind. So we went to get the ham. She was so nervous that her hands were sweating and I noticed she was rubbing them together hard enough to break the skin. She was so unsure about the ham. I reassured her and gave her suggestions as to using it all ( Sharing with a friend, freezing, packaging it in smaller potions, etc) but I could see that this was so stressful for her. She then whispered “I am so scared.”

“Of what?”

“The ham. It is so big”

She went on to tell me a few times how scared she was as I tried to comfort and reassure her.

“We just want you to have food but if it is too much, how about I just cut you a small piece to take home?”

She looked as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders! She showed me exactly how much he wanted and I went to the kitchen to cut it for her. I returned with her small portion and she placed it in a bag, thanked me and left. As it turned out there were a few others that did not want an entire ham and took the leftover smaller portions. Everyone was a winner in the end.

There was the lady who did not take much food because it was not organic and there were too many processed foods.

There was a lady who came in dressed to the nines… She looked so stylish but when you got close enough you could tell that everything she had on was well worn or ill fitting. She had an air about her though that caused us all to stop and take notice.

There were folks that wanted to get through that line as fast as possible in order to leave. Embarrassment? Pride? Not sure but with us was the last place they wanted to be.

There was the lady that had taken the train to us. We had no idea until one of our teen helpers was missing for a while. We thought he had decided to hide out and take a break. Little did we know he had walked her and her food to the train station (3 blocks away) wearing only a sweatshirt. He came back a teen Popsicle.

There were so many more faces and stories in the over 140 families we served that day. Faces I see each time I shop. Faces I see each time I look at my full fridge. Faces that I see each time I pray.

Each face a reminder of my blessings. Each face the face of God. Each face changing my perspective.

 

Unqualified

Kristine Binder

After the massacre of 27 people, mostly children, I am struggling. I am struggling with so much right now. I am struggling with my own insecurity in my profession. I am struggling with the safety of my children. I am struggling with my qualifications to help others.

Since Friday, many people have asked me for my advice and assistance in dealing with their own children. I feel so unqualified to help these people as I am not sure I am even doing the right thing with my own children. Every family is different and what is right for my children and our family, might not be right for others.

There is no real explanation for what happened or why it happened. The shooter is dead thus we can only speculate as to his motives. Our nation will forever wonder why. Our nation will forever mourn.

So what now? Do we lock our schools and make them more like a prison than a learning environment? Do we change the laws that regulate guns? Do we alter how we deal with mental health issues in our nation? How will we respond? How will we remember these babies and the adults who gave their lives to protect them?

How we move forward from here will be the real memorial to these victims. I still don’t know if I have the right answers. I still feel unqualified.