My mom fell and broke her leg on Sunday. I know it's not a good thing to be 78 and have a broken femur, but if nothing else, it has brought the family together.

All the family on both sides who live in Utah, have come to visit. I haven't seen a lot of my aunts and uncles and cousins in years. Although the situation wasn't ideal for a get together, it was nice to catch up on what's going on. Most of my aunts and uncles talked about their ailments, prescriptions and doctors. My cousins talked about their jobs, kids, and hobbies. We all connected, and I forgot how much I miss my extended family. We were so close at one time, but life has taken over. We've become too busy to keep in touch. We've all gone our own direction. We've all changed our priorities.

We agreed we need to get together again, under better circumstances. We say that, but whether or not it happens, only time will tell.

I sure hope the next time I see them isn't at a funeral for one of us!

There isn't much time left before my half marathon. And because I lost a month of training thanks to my fractured toe, I realized I needed to ramp up the runs. I knew I could run 9.5 miles, and that would probably be good enough to get me through. But I don't want to just make it through my race. I want to feel okay after.

So last Saturday, I left the house and started running toward town. When I got to one particularly lonely stretch of road, I called my husband and told him to get in the car to come get me. I said I didn't think I'd get all the way into town before he reached me, but that was okay because I was tired.

I kept running and was shooting for a big group of trees off in the horizon. I looked at the ground and started counting footsteps to make the time pass. As I ran, I kept hoping my husband would come up behind me and rescue me. But when I got to the trees, I looked ahead and saw it went downhill . My spirits were lifted and I flew down the hill all the way into town.

I ran 14 miles that day. But I had to push myself past the mindset that I couldn't do it. I wonder what I would have done if I got to the trees and it was uphill?

Last week I failed to write. And the reason is really stupid--I didn't think I had anything to say.

Everyone who knows me knows I never run short on commentary. But what I did, was convince myself there was nothing to write about. I put up a fence in my mind that I couldn't get over, under or through. I let myself believe I was meant to be silent.

I thought about this when I watched my Rottweiler, Sami, walking through the living room. He can walk around the ottoman going one direction, but not the other. For whatever reason, he decided the floor is scary in one spot.

I usually push my way through the scary spots in life, and so far it's worked out well. I rarely believe I can't do something. But last week, I fought my muse and I won. It wasn't a victory--it was defeat by the mind.