The Big Pig Disaster

This is the post I have been putting off because it is a very unpleasant event to revisit.  It wasn't even so much the actual marathon either.  It was the weeks before, as well as the weeks that followed.  I previously described my mental state in the sense that I was beginning to panic over the forecast that was being predicted for marathon morning.  Every time I logged on to that damn weather.com, it seemed our chances of thunderstorms increased until they reached 100% and stayed there.  There was that picture of the lightening bolt that kept sticking out at me.  My sister in Nashville had enlightened me about the recent Nashville marathon that was canceled part way through due to "severe weather".  She mentioned something about tornados I believe.  So needing an outlet for some apparent anxiety over the race, I zoned in completely on the weather... as if I could do a darn thing about it.  Remember, during this time, I really thought I was in check for the race, both physically and mentally.  After all, I had checked my training log over again and again and my log indicated race day success!  I was ready... if only the forecast would cooperate (not the case.... did not realize it... at the time)

The day before the Pig brought a morning downpour.  I remember this well because I was standing in it at Jack's track meet, a meet in which Jack was refusing to run. The track was flooded around the turns.  My mind focused on the next morning as I tried to picture myself splashing through puddles in the middle of a giant thunderstorm.  I was beginning to wonder how and the heck one runs that far with SO MUCH RAIN!

Following our Team Mitch party at Maria's, John and I brought the kids to John's mom and dad.  Krista was with us.  She had come from Columbus to run the half marathon and was staying with me that night.  Let me tell you, the anxiety wasn't even comparable to what I experienced the night before the 2009 Columbus Marathon.  I felt more relaxed and maybe it was because most of my time around Krista is spent laughing.  We got back to the house and began our race day prep... trying to figure out shorts or capri's, charging ipods, pinning numbers and tying on timing chips.  I really think it was a godsend having her there that night.  We spent some time chatting, catching up on what my previous co-workers in Columbus were up and talking about all kinds of stuff.  Finally it was time for bed.  I settled in, aware that although nervous, I was not "freaking out".  I drifted off sooner that I expected I would and was awakened hours later to the sound loud thunder accompanied by flashes of lightening.  Oh boy, this would be fun.

Not so bright, but super early, I was up getting ready.  The rain was incredible, as were the impressive bolts of lightening that kept flashing through my window.  At this point, all I could do was laugh.  I had no idea how all this weather would unfold during the race, but we were soon to find out.  Once we were ready with our packed race bags, we headed out to pick up Sarah, who was also running the half after running Boston two weeks prior.  With two of the best girlfriends anyone could ever wish for, both of whom I love dearly for different reasons, and my husband in the car, I took a brief and silent moment to consider what I had been blessed with.  I recall thinking that this was going to be a wonderful day and we were off to a memorable and qualifying marathon.  Memorable it was!

I am not exaggerating when I describe the lightening as blinding on the way to the race.  Those bolts were massive!  Sarah was jokingly trying to block the windows to prevent me from seeing.  I did  not know how they could justify running this race on time with weather like this but I just wanted to get to the start and RUN.  It was a rush to the start as John pretty much dumped us out and went to find parking.  It was pouring as the three of us (Krista, Sarah and I) made our way through the crowd of runners to find our lucky spots.  With minutes to spare, we made it.  I got to the 3:40 pacer to find my two cousins, Sean and Brian waiting.  I hugged my friends and told them good luck and I'd see them at the finish line.  Let's just say I am thankful to not have been the tallest standing object in that crowd with the lightening we had.

I set my Garmin just in time to hear the gun go off, indicating the race had begun!  So with the rain pouring down and lightening flashing everywhere, the Flying Pig marathon had started!  My cousins and I began running.  Again, as the minutes went by, the nerves melted away.  The very act of running was so calming.  I found a lot of humor in those that were avoiding the puddles...  seriously, our shoes were drenched and you had runners who I guess wanted theirs "less drenched"?  I saw this as wasted energy.  Trying to dodge the inevitable.  Well I was a smart racer and I would run straight and not try to go around anything (unless it included a very slow runner).  Miles one and two were spent warming up and calming down.  Mile three, the rain seemed to be easing a bit.  I began to feel a little tight in my left hamstring.  Almost like I needed to stretch it out.  It was here where I decided to back off of the 3:40 pacer as I began to worry about the 3 mile climb to Eden Park.  I figured I'd keep him in my sights and I'd catch up after the hill.  What I didn't realize at the time (thank goodness) is that he was behind where he should have been.  I continued to zone in on his balloons.  I looked back and could not see the 3:45 pacer so I was in good shape.  I felt I'd made a smart decision.  My hamstring did not hurt.  But I wasn't sure why it felt so darn tight!  Mile 4-5, the beginning of the long climb.  I remember thinking of Mitch and Seth during this part.  I also remember my hamstring tightness easing up a bit as the hill got steeper.  I was elated that the hill training, combined with the taper was paying off.  I was steady and strong on the hill.  I marveled at how good I felt and knew everything was going to be ok.  The rain was a light mist now and everyone seemed to have a great time.  My friend Kim's husband, Joe, who was running the half, caught up to me and we chatted for a bit before he continued to climb up at a faster pace.  I remember passing the eight mile mark.  Toward the top of the hill there was a fluid station.  I realized I had only stopped once for a drink and decided now would be good.  The hill was just about over and the hardest part of the marathon, which didn't seem so hard, was going to be behind me.  I slowed down and grabbed a cup.  As I started to run, pushing my left leg forward, I felt a sudden and severe pain in my left hamstring.  I yelled "F%@K" so loudly that the majority of runners turned to look at me.  I tried to continue running, as I was just about at the top.  I did not know what to do.  I had no phone.  I had no idea when I would see John.  I began to run in hopes that it would work itself out, but it wasn't happening.  Miraculously, I saw John.  He was cheering and waving with the video camera.  I made my way over to him and told him I thought that I had pulled a hamstring.  "Come on, I'll run with you" was his response.  I started crying and said I could not.  I had tried when it first happened but the stabbing pain from behind my leg was something I could not work through for 17 more miles, or in my mind, even 1 more mile.  I was now on the sidewalk feeling like I was in a fog.  It hit me that it was over.  All the training and preparation for this race had come to an abrupt end between miles 8 and 9.  I was approached by a Team in Training coach who asked if I needed anything.  Then Kathleen stopped and asked if I was ok.  I told her what had happened and that I was out of the race.  I could not believe that this was happening.  I stood there sobbing on the sidewalk as I tried to wrap my brain around my race being over.  Thank God for small miracles, such as the car being directly across the street.  John and I made our way across the course, and as we did, the 3:45 pacer ran by.  Sitting in the warm car hugging my legs on the seat, we made our way back to the start.  I don't remember our conversation.  I just remember sitting there in complete disbelief.  I recall calling my sister Maggie, who I figured was up bright and early in Texas tracking her sister on-line.  Nope, I woke the bitch up!  Really?  Damn it, Mag, I was running a BQ marathon and you are sleeping?   Ok, there's another shout out for Maggie.  I mean, who cares that she had just brought her sickly newborn baby boy home from the hospital like, the day before or something like that,  I WAS RUNNING A MARATHON, for God sakes!  All kidding aside, Maggie was really upset for me and I hated making that call to her.

 Once we got into downtown, I knew Sarah should be finishing up her half.  Sure enough, sitting there in the warm car, John's cell phone rang.   I saw Sarah's number and told John to get it.  There was just no way I could keep any kind of composure at that moment.  "How's she doing?"  I could hear her through the silence in the car (iphones... not good for private conversations either).  "Well, she is sitting right here with me.  She pulled her hamstring and she's out of the race."  "Shut up, John.  Not funny.  How is she doing really??"  John is like the boy who cried wolf.  He jokes so much, that people really don't know when to take him seriously.  "Sarah I'm serious.  Here, talk to her."  I shot him a glaring look as I took the phone.  "Hey Sarah, it's me."  "What the HELL?  What happened?  OH MY GOD!  I thought John was just being, well.... JOHN!"  I'm pretty sure that was the sequence of her words.  I gave the phone back to John so he could tell her where to meet us.  Minutes later, Sarah appeared at the car window, soaking wet and draped in her finisher's blanket.  She hopped in the car, leaned over and gave me a hug. I suddenly realized SHE had just run the half and said "Tell me how you did."  She was reluctant to say that two weeks after kicking ass in Boston, she ran a personal best at the Flying Pig 1/2 Marathon in a time that awarded her 2nd in her age group.  Now I felt awful!  I wanted to celebrate her accomplishment, but now she was devastated for my race.  The situation just sucked, plain and simple.
We made our way to the finish line to meet the many runners that were going to be waiting to see me finish the full.  Kim, Vicki, Kevin, Tammy, and Krista all came in little by little.  Again, I know Krista got a personal best (which she has since beat in Columbus... YES, I AM A PRO AT RUINING THE GLORIOUS MOMENTS OF OTHERS).  I think others did too, but their times are escaping me as all these non-qualifying disastrous races are blending together.

We got home, I said my good-byes to Krista, who was heading back to Columbus and we then got ready to go to my nephew's First Communion.  At the First Communion party, there were many Team Mitch members who wanted to know what happened.  I recapped the day with a feigned positivity, mostly because I had succeeded in ruining the special day of my friends and their races and I would not do it to my nephew, who should have been the center of attention.  I claimed to be "doing ok."  In reality, my hamstring hurt, my head hurt and my heart hurt.  I wanted nothing more than to go home and go to bed and put the day behind me.  Little did I know how much effort "putting that day behind me" would take.

This post is finally coming out of "draft mode", where it has been and revisited for four days.  Perhaps the not finishing is what makes the revisit so difficult.  I know it is said that with each failure and setback, there are valuable lessons learned.  I know this, yet I've still never found the silver lining from that race.  Perhaps the lesson of a strong mental mindset learned and practiced this summer is the one I'm to take from the Pig.  I don't know.  I was told that my body was wound so tightly and so tense that it was no surprise that I suffered a hamstring pull when I had no problems with my hamstrings.  I thought that was bullshit when I heard it.  I no longer do.  More to come on this subject.  For now, I'm happy to have this post behind me!

Having a DAMN hard time...

This is from the 2010 Columbus Marathon.  But displays  some very important bits of information about my motivation.

It has taken me three days to write my recap of the 2010 Flying Pig Marathon.  It is a harder chore than I ever expected.  One of these days, I will finish it and get it published but I was unprepared for the emotions involved in this one.... so I keep leaving it and coming back  The sequence will continue and sometime soon, I will be caught up to now!  In the meantime, it's best to remember so many of the reasons I run!

Running Again!

I felt like a teenager trying to sneak out.  As I quietly stumbled around my dark room this morning, trying so hard not to wake John, I began to get the pieces I needed out of my drawers.  A sports bra, running socks, and tights, followed by a trip to the closet for a long sleeve running shirt, fleece pull over and my new reflective vest that I had yet to wear.  And then came my new running shoes that I had only worn twice.  I tiptoed into the bathroom and got dressed.  Standing there, looking in the mirror, I noticed that I looked a little different in my running tights than I did last winter or maybe I just wasn't used to the winter look yet.  Regardless, I stood there for a second staring at what I hadn't seen in such a long time.  In the grand scheme of an injury, six weeks is not a long time.  But to a running addict, it is a lifetime.  I walked over to John's side of the bed and tapped him.  He looked up and said "I thought you weren't going to..... oh nevermind, be careful."  He pulled the covers back over his head and turned over.  He has been trained quite well.

Yesterday I had my first good run, or "breakthrough" since the marathon.  I ran two miles on the treadmill at the gym and had no pain.... this is different from my trail run in the park.  I did feel what I would consider a dull ache (though I hate to even use that term because it indicates pain) but it would not even have a place on my 1-10 pain scale.  I think it is just a bit sensitive in that area, but I believe things have healed.  I also believe they may be a bit fragile, which was why I stopped at two miles when I so wanted to go three. Easing back into it is the name of the game.  No speedwork or hills for a few more weeks, but I will begin running on the treadmill.  That was yesterday's plan.

I waited all day for the familiar "ache" that I was sure would accompany my treadmill run.  It never came.  Up and down the steps, cleaning and decorating for Christmas.  Nothing.  Again, so different from my trail run.  I made sure I rolled my calf and stretched really well yesterday.  I have been diligently doing all the things I feel will help get me back to running sooner.  I 100% believe they are working.  Often times, we feel better and we stop doing all interventions... then we feel bad again.  I'm not going to do that this time.

This morning I couldn't help myself.  The running addict took over and the voice of reason stayed quite.  I decided I would do my flat 4 mile run to the library and back.  I would go easy and back off if I felt like it was too much.  I slipped on my Garmin (clue number 1 that my intention was not to go easy) and headed out the door for my first run of the season with running gloves and a headband for warmth.  First thing I noticed was the brilliant sky and all the stars.  I felt the cold air on my face and noticed the Christmas lights that many neighbors had put up and left on all night.  It was beautiful.  I was also keenly aware of my left calf, trying to be completely in tuned to how it was feeling.  It felt very similar to the day before.  I had a nice easy warm-up mile and the calf stayed status quo.  Without realizing it, I was beginning to run a bit faster... probably because I was well caffeinated and warmed up.  Miles 2 and 3 were wonderful and swift. I felt like the runner I was before the marathon.  By the 4th mile, I think my body started to remember that it had been awhile so I slowed the pace and cruised on home.  Once home, I took my walking cool down lap around the circle.  The calf felt ok.  I may have pushed it a bit too much too soon during those two middle miles, but once inside and nicely stretched, rolled and compressed, I am feeling nothing.  I've popped a few vitamins (ibuprofen... which is probably what requires me to take Prilosec on a daily basis) and now I just wait to see what comes from this run.  I hope I am reasonable enough to realize I should not be doing this every day.  I hope I have enough good sense and restraint to stick to a few treadmill runs only this week and not flirt with what could cause another big setback.  I will try to recall how awesome it felt to be out there again and realize just how much I do not want to screw it up!

The meeting of new friends

With the beginning of the running club and Pig training in full swing, I began to break out of my previous training routine.  I was now posting runs that would begin at 5:30 a.m. in hopes of gaining a little company. Let me tell you, this time was not popular a year ago.  At least not for members of the Harrison Running Club.  On most occasions (and for the first part of training), only Ryan would show up in the Kroger parking lot to run with me.  When I say "with", I really mean "ahead".  Don't get me wrong.  This was good for my training.  We'd start out together, but Ryan had much loftier finishing goals than I did.  I wanted a qualifier, he wanted a sub 3 hour marathon.  Even the most positive of attitudes could not have gotten me that time (Ok, yes, since I always say you can do ANYTHING you put your mind to, I'll say this... sure I could get a sub 3 hour marathon if I move to Oregon and join the Nike Oregon Project Team and eat, drink and sleep running and training.  But it ain't gonna happen).  I would usually trail Ryan closely for roughly 2 miles and then he'd just smoke me.  Often times I'd get back to the parking lot and he'd be gone already.  Ok, to some that sounds rude.  But it wasn't.  Ryan is married with 5 young boys.  His wife is a nurse that works day shift.  He had to be back home early!  The other thing I made clear, and I think is very important to make clear when training with someone, is that we each have different goals.  If we all run the same pace during every run, we could hurt our aspirations.  If that pace is consistently too fast, we risk burnout and injury.  Too slow, we risk not meeting our goals.  When running with Ryan, my goal would be to see how long I could keep up and how close I could stay.  It pushed me and since it wasn't on every single run, it wasn't risky.  It was beneficial.

At the end of January, my brother invited me to run with the Westside group on Wednesdays.  The group met at 5:15 a.m. at the Gamble Nippert YMCA for what was described in their schedule as a "hard hill run".  Now knowing that this group always ran hills, then seeing them describe this as "hard", made me a bit hesitant to join them.  BUT, I was training for the Pig (hilly) and I knew I had to break out of my comfort zone to get, well, comfortable running hills.  So I agreed.  I pitched the idea to Ryan and Sarah about joining me.  Ryan was on board, Sarah laughed at the idea of getting up so ridiculously early (which she does daily now).  That first Wednesday, Ryan and I left Harrison at 4:45 and headed to Western Hills.  When we got there, there were about 6 or 7 runners that day.  My brother Jack was one of them.  I also remember Hal and Sarah (Kessler) and a couple of others.  Hal and Sarah stick out because they were there pretty consistently during the weeks that followed and because they always led the pack.  I learned they weren't kidding when they described the run as "hard".  I took the short 5.5 mile route with my brother, who, thank God, had to be back to get ready for work.  Ryan opted for the additional 3 miles that continued on.  I waited inside the warm YMCA waiting until he was done.  That run took me 5 plus miles of short, steep hills... both up and down.  It was crazy exhausting and I was in the back.  It's never fun to be last, but I knew it was a means to better my running.  So I kept at it.  Every week I got up at 3:45 (Yes, I need an hour to wake up and prepare my mind and body for the torture) to meet the group.  For the first several weeks, Ryan joined me.  Unfortunately, Ryan developed a calf injury and could not continue training (STUPID CALVES!!).  I would drive out there alone and run, mostly alone, as I trailed behind.  I always dreaded Tuesday nights and tried to think of excuses not to go.  Fortunately, I had none good enough to stop going.

These Wednesday runs were very difficult.  Both mentally and physically.  But I believe them to be the key to my improvement during training.  They toughened me.  My ego took some pretty big blows on many of those runs as I trailed the group.  But week after week, I was getting closer and staying with them a bit longer.  Sarah and I were meeting for our long runs on Sundays.  We would usually meet for a pretty hilly run... in prep for our races.  She for Boston, me for the Pig.  We were not very successful in recruiting our new running club members to join us on these runs... particularly one that took us on Strimple Road in Harrison (very hilly... but great for training).  On one occasion, we had three very good runners meet us for part of a 17 or 18 mile Strimple Road run.  They were Amy Ritter, Barbara Walker and Amy Engel.  Amy R. met us for the first part.. the run to Strimple, then back tracked to get less mileage.  Barbara and Amy Engel met us after Strimple (smart ladies).  I had met Barbara at a 10k benefitting her kids' school that previous Labor Day.  I had won first in my age group and she in hers and while waiting for the awards, I noticed she was from Harrison.  So I approached her (runners are a very bold and friendly bunch by the way... I think they are drawn to people who also "get it") and we chatted for awhile.  It wasn't until later that I learned Barbara (as well as Amy E.) had not only completed marathons, but also Ironman triathlons.

On a few occasions, I did meet other group members, whom I already knew through the kids' school, for some 5:30 runs.  They included Nickke, Kim, Nancy, Rose and Angie.  None of them were training for the full marathon, but Kim and Nancy were training for half.  Because our mileage differed, I'd sometimes run the first part of my run alone and then meet them for the rest.  It worked nicely.  Rose and Angie were just beginning to test out the running world.  Nickke was returning after having a baby and Kim and Nancy were not beginners.  We had quite the mix and it was great fun and good company.  I really enjoyed running with a group without having the hour round trip.

One morning, Nancy, Kim and I were running early.  As we were getting close to finishing, a runner came up behind us and stopped to ask if we ran together often and if we were training for something.  Now I had passed this runner for years during many early morning alone runs.  She was a tiny little "girl" with a distinct stride because she ran on her toes.  She always seemed to wear a ball cap and I always noticed that she was pretty darn quick.  I wondered who she was, but never did more than smile, wave and pass by.  That morning, the cute little mystery runner was revealed.  Her name was Suttan and she was training for her first Boston Marathon.  Suttan had qualified that fall in Columbus, the same race of my first attempt.  She always ran alone, but was hoping to connect with others in her training.  I let her know that I had a friend (Sarah) also training for Boston and that I was training for the Pig and that she was welcome to join us anytime.  I let her know about the running club Facebook group and told her I'd hoped to meet up soon.

I didn't see Suttan much that spring.  She had to cater to an injury that was risking her Boston race (which, by the way, she beat her Columbus time and qualified again in Boston), but I did keep in touch were her through Facebook.  It wasn't really until this summer, when I lured her out to a couple of those Wednesday hill runs in Western Hills, that we started running together.  Suttan is an awesome runner and an equally awesome person.  I am very lucky to have met her!

What I have yet to mention in this rambling post is what was happening in my head.  Again, the beginning of training was filled with optimism, hope and excitement.  But old habits die hard.  As the weeks clicked by I knew I had to rein in the nerves, but I didn't know how.  I would constantly check my Garmin stats on my computer and say "You are fine.  Your times are better than the last training cycle.  You are running on hills, you are busting your ass.  You are going to do this."  It would calm me... until the next time, which was soon after.  And I'd look it all over again and tell myself all the same things.  I made myself believe I was confident this time.  I actually tricked myself into thinking it.  You can make yourself believe many things.  Even lies.  And unfortunately, that was happening.  I was stronger, better and faster.  I was also much better at covering up my fear as the days to the marathon drew near.  I began to obsess over the weather.  Why?  I love running in the rain.  I ran in snow, ice, and rain during the spring.  Why was the weather bothering me so much?  Because the fear that I denied existed needed to be channeled somewhere and the weather became the perfect scapegoat.

The Wisdom of Seth Jenkins

I wasn't going to blog today.  I woke up late (ha, 4:45) and one word comes to mind to describe my mood this morning... Eeyore.  I'm sure you are all aware of who that is, but if not, he is the melancholy donkey from Winnie the Pooh.  As far as Eeyore is concerned, nothing is ever right and everything is "stupid".  Things never go his way and the world is out to get him.  To be honest, I know people like that.  Not just having that kind of day, but actually having that kind of life.  These people are draining.  They require so much energy from themselves getting through the day and sure as hell zap a lot of energy from those around them.   I don't have that kind of life.  I WAS having that kind of morning.  I turned on my computer to quickly check e-mail.  My intention was to reply to anything pressing (or not) and wake up my over scheduled daughter who had to be forced to bed at 10 pm without having finished her homework.  She begged me to get her up early so she could finish.  What kid does that?  What a nerd!  Anyway, as I scanned down the list of e-mails, I received a forwarded Runner's World "Quote of the Day" from Kathleen and a note that simply read "You are a champion."  Little did she know, I get these quotes and I often forward them on to Sarah. A lot of them are pertinent to her new runners.  Yesterday I saw it and thought of many people I know.  I certainly did not think of myself.  But she did, forwarded it on and lifted my mood.  Here is the quote:

Champions do not become champions when they win the event, but in the hours, weeks, months and years they spend preparing for it. The victorious performance itself is merely the demonstration of their championship character. 


Thank you, Kathleen.  It never ceases to amaze me that the simple kindness of others can have such huge effects. Really, three words and a forward changed my attitude immediately.


In yesterday's post I described a thirteen year old boy who died of Leukemia.  That boy was Seth Jenkins and was the son of an obstetrician I worked with in Columbus.  Todd (Seth's dad) is an amazing physician and person.  I loved when he was on call and we'd sit around all day chatting.  The man has unmatched compassion and character.  Todd occasionally would bring Seth up to the Labor and Delivery unit while he made his rounds.  I remember Seth as a five year old child, very friendly and outgoing as well as extremely intelligent.  Seth did not seem to know a stranger.  Unlike most five year olds, who tend to hide behind mom's leg when an adult they do not know addresses them, Seth was completely comfortable chatting it up with whomever was around.  Not long after moving back to Cincinnati, I received a phone call from Krista telling me that Seth had been diagnosed with Leukemia.  The news was devastating.  Todd and his wife Wendi had been through quite a bit the years leading up Seth's diagnosis.  They had lost a baby when Wendi was 16 weeks pregnant.  That would have been their fourth child and second boy.  At the time, they had Seth and two younger daughters.  That was also not their first loss.


Through the years, I was able to keep track of Seth's progress and setbacks through Krista.  I did see Todd and Wendi at a Christmas party a couple of years after Seth's diagnosis.  Wendi was getting close to delivering a baby.  This baby was a girl named Maren (can you say stinking ADORABLE!).  I was ecstatic when Krista called to tell me that Seth was in remission a couple of years ago, then devastated again when I received news that he'd relapsed.  In February of 2010, while training for the Flying Pig, I got a very upsetting phone call from Krista.  She told me that "Seth needed prayers... badly".  In early February, Seth was admitted to the hospital for a "severe headache".  After he was admitted, he was sedated for a spinal tap.  He was expected to wake up hours later from the sedation, but never did.  Seth died on March 6th.  Seth had become septic (to this day, I believe the cuprit was bacterial meningitis, but I'm not certain) and without a properly functional immune system, he was unable to fight such a heavy hitter.  During his illness and during his final hospitalization, Todd and Wendi kept a CarePages journal that they updated nearly every day.  I marvel at their willingness to share such raw emotion during Seth's final weeks.  There were entries of hopefulness, explaining lab values and small signs of improvement, as well as entries of despair from a mother watching her child go through such a thing and having three young children at home.  I cannot imagine or relate and when I try, it simply overwhelms me.


One of the things I learned about Seth was that he LOVED sports.  He was extremely competitive and loved all things baseball and basketball.  Quitting was not a word in Seth's vocabulary.  When it came to his illness, at times Seth was frightened with the prospect of dying (what a horrible thing for a child to worry about), but went through all of his treatments with a "let's beat this" attitude.  He never asked "Why me?" or said "It's not fair."  I'm sure his parents have many times.  But as the child with the illness, he did not.  His goal was to beat his cancer... again.


In one journal entry, Wendi describes getting Seth a cell phone.  Many of his Jr. high friends had cell phones.  Seth did not.  He finally wore his mother down, with some help, I believe, from Todd.  On his phone was his "signature", with the words "Courage is NOT the absence of fear."  Nice saying.  Very nice.  Until you REALLY think about what words this boy lived by.  This child was so very scared.  His parents couldn't help.  His friends couldn't help.  You just never know what will happen with cancer.  But he was incredibly courageous.  His faith in God (very big for a young boy), his positive attitude and his fighter and "championship character" gave this boy more courage to plow through his disease than I've ever know anyone to have.  I began to think about my upcoming race.  How scared I was of the self inflicted pressure of qualifying.  I can't tell you how many times during my long training runs and of course, at the start of the marathon, I said those words over and over.  I was afraid, but I would have the courage to try to do what I set out to do.  After all, Seth was a child and Seth had cancer and Seth was courageous.  I would not let fear get in the way of my goal.


My children all have rubber bracelets with those words.  Todd gave me six of them at Seth's funeral.  I wore mine during both the Flying Pig and Columbus marathons.  There are many days I slip that bracelet on.  I often need reminders from Seth of what courage is not.  I have told my kids that it is ok to be afraid.  It is not ok to let that fear paralyze you.  When you don't allow that to happen, you have demonstrated courage.... being afraid, but doing it anyway.  Thank you, Seth, for the gift of your amazing wisdom.

The Harrison Running Club

After a rather productive and eventful few days, I am finally sitting down to my blog again.   Sitting here blogging in the dark with headphones and Christmas music from an internet radio station is quite peaceful.  Although I hope the Maria Carey Silent Night song ends soon... nice voice, but overkill on this song.

Following the Columbus Marathon in 2009, I immediately set my sights on Cincinnati's own Flying Pig Marathon.  I was asked by many if it was a good idea to use that marathon as a qualifier considering the hilly course.  I did consider that, but also knew I had plenty of opportunity to train on hills where I lived.  I had been told by a girl who qualified at the Pig that she incorporated hills into all of long runs (as well as many short runs) and they did not really phase her during the marathon.  The other positive to training for the Pig was that Sarah was going to be training for and running Boston two weeks prior to the Flying Pig and we could do many of our long runs together again.  I would tweak my plan a bit, throw an additional twenty mile run into the mix (making 4 total) to match her training and this would be a piece of cake!  We also knew another friend training for the Flying Pig.. Ryan Stroud.  He, Sarah and I decided it would be great to get a group together and train, similar to the Westside group I had run with over the summer.  Thus began the Harrison Running Club!

The Harrison Running Club was started as a Facebook group.  People could "join" and get posts about upcoming group runs or events.  The basis for this group was to incorporate runners and walkers of ALL abilities into a group setting.  Our goal was/is to connect runners with other runners who could exercise or train for an event together.  Like all things new, there was huge interest at the beginning, followed by a long lull.  However over a year later, the group has begun to pick up a large amount of activity.  I think staying encouraged and continuing to post despite lack of interest in the majority of "members, made a huge difference.  Sarah is training a couple of 5k groups in two sessions three times a week.  She also organized our own Thanksgiving Day Run at Miami Whitewater Park which has over 30 people attending.  This run will allow beginners and seasoned runners the opportunity to run whatever distance they are able as many of the runners are not able to complete a 10k yet.  People are also bringing food donations for the food pantry and tech shirts are being printed.  This encouraging activity has been very inspiring, especially to me.  I enjoy staying connected to the running world even while not running.  There was a point during the year when I began to think "screw it.  No one cares about running except the 5 or so people I consistently see and train with.  I am not putting any more effort or posting anymore on this Facebook page."  When you don't get the response you want, or people lose interest after the "honeymoon period", it is hard to keep at something.  But I really wanted a group like the Westside bunch and I knew we could have that here.  So I kept posting because I kept thinking I would capture someone's attention who wanted to start running or had been running..... and that is exactly what happened.  Sarah posted her training program on the site and things kind of exploded.  We are beginning to see posts from runners who've never posted anything before.  Sarah has taken the absolute very beginner and has transformed them into runners.  I cannot tell you how awesome it is to see the transformation in these runners.  Their bodies, their attitudes, their lives.  I love running for so many reasons, but one of the things that I love most is watching people "get it" and learning to love it, regardless of the blood, sweat and tears it sometimes takes.  I meant it when I said it is a life changing sport and I do believe many of these new runners are seeing that.  As I type, Sarah is getting ready to meet one of her groups at 5:30.  Obviously getting up at 5:00 a.m., three times week to run takes serious commitment.   They are committed and they are succeeding.  She also trains an equally committed group at 10:15 a.m.  These groups will run (for most, their first) 5k in mid-December.  I hope to be at the finish line cheering on these amazing athletes, as some of them are friends of mine.  My friend Molly, put it best... when you are able to connect the quantitative and qualitative elements of running, it is magical.  For me, I love the fast times and competitiveness of trying to reach this goal and experiencing the improvement that comes with hard work, but I equally love the inspiring and motivating stories that come from the beginner.  Every runner started with that first breathless and difficult mile that felt so horrible they weren't sure they were cut out for the sport.  Yes, even that runner that wins marathons.  Day by day, with consistency and commitment, you become better, stronger, faster.  Some of us my never be able to get a basketball into a hoop or make contact with a baseball bat, but with the rare exception, we can all run.  And we can all improve and get faster.  You don't have to try to get to Boston or qualify for the Olympic trials to be a great runner.  Focusing on your own goals, whether it be finish a 5k without walking or run that 5k under 20 minutes, is what it's all about.

Ok, well I've now heard Mariah Carey sing about 5 Christmas songs and am losing focus on my blogging, however, I want to say to my good friend Shonda, who posted her fearful reaction to registering for that December 5k, that a wise 13 year old who died of Leukemia last spring had a saying that sticks with me constantly.  Apply this saying to getting to the start of that race.  Apply this saying every time you are really afraid of something.  It will allow the fear not to paralyze you.  It is what has gotten me to the starting line of the Flying Pig and Columbus.  They are the words that this child lived by:  COURAGE IS NOT THE ABSENCE OF FEAR.  You will be afraid, but have the courage to try anyway.  Looking forward to sharing your wonderful day!

I had every intention of spinning today when I went to bed last night.  I would get up, clean my basement, get the kids off to school and head to the 9:15 spinning class.  I would get beaten for 45 minutes and leave in an exhausted and sweaty state.  That was my intention.

Instead, today, I went for a run.

I am definitely much better, but still not ready to go full throttle.  I think I will need another 2 weeks or so.. just like Dr. Burger said "roughly 6 weeks".  Today I am at 4 1/2.  I am, however, happy.  No, I am actually downright euphoric over my running experience today.

I decided to go to the park and hit the trails.  I was instructed to start on softer surfaces when I started running again.  I parked by the outer loop of the 7.6 mile trail and slowly jogged up to the wooded trail.  I felt the impact immediately.  Not pain.  So I kept going.  I promised myself if I reached a 4-5 on a pain scale of 1-10, I would stop (1 being "barely noticeable" and 10 being "arm ripped off by a bear painful"... I imagine that is pretty painful).  I was at a "2" I would guess.  I turned left and headed into the woods, still jogging rather slowly.  I could smell the wet leaves.  A smell I would describe as "awesome".  This is my favorite time of year to run.  This and winter, when the streets are clean, but the grass and trees are snow covered.  I had yet to experience this smell this year, and thanks to the rain yesterday, it was quite strong.  The trail was covered in beautiful red, yellow and orange leaves.  I had a great song playing on my shuffle and I simply couldn't help myself.  I began to pick up the pace.  With the pace picked up again, my scale climbed to a "3".  I was very aware of what I was feeling, but still felt I was not being too careless.  I checked my breathing.  I felt wonderful, strong and happy.  Now I came to the part of the trail where there is a nice sized hill.  It's a rather steep climb and really gets the heart pumping.  "Here's where it's going to hit me that I haven't run in a few weeks."  I took a deep breath and began climbing.  I felt ok, so I ran harder... still doing well, so I gave it everything.  I wanted to see just how behind I'd gotten.  The leg was holding steady at a "3".  The hill seemed to easy the "feeling" a bit.  Strong and relaxed, but breathing very heavily, I reached the top.  With no one around to see it, a big smile spread across my face.  I haven't missed a beat.  Whatever combo of strength and cross training I'm doing, well it is keeping me in the game.  I am still a runner, I still love it and I can still kick ass!

I ran about 3 1/2 miles today.  I reached my tolerated level of 4-5 before I got back to pavement, so I walked the rest of the way to my car.  At times, my leg whispered "Girl, you are playing with fire."  But my mind said "Run, girl, RUN!  So I listened to both.  I ran like a fool, but I stopped when I reached the point I had promised myself I would.  I am not ready to hit the road.  I will continue my cross-training and strength routine for the next couple of weeks.  


Today I eased that panicked runner in my head that is fretting about losing running fitness.  I am going to be ok when the time is right to begin again... and just knowing this, will carry me through the next couple of weeks relaxed and confident.

Flying Pig 2011

A little out of sequence, I know.  I actually am not going to post a LONNGGG blog.  Yes, the mess in the basement toy room needs some attention (that does NOT mean I'm cleaning crazy) and I just don't have uninterrupted hours during the day like I do right now, SOOOO, this is going to be short!

Last night I registered for the Flying Pig marathon.  I posted on FB that I have "unfinished business" with that marathon.  Let me go on record as saying what I meant by that is a finish.  Don't be going around offering to pace me, Jack!  Of course I can finish the Pig on my own.  I am considering running this marathon with no time goal in mind at all.... just get to the start and run.  I considered that for Columbus, but as I got further in my training, I changed my mind because it was in the bag.  I now want a break from worrying about the "WTF factor" and just let the race unfold however it may.  Be in pulled hamstrings, cramped calves or whatever.  That doesn't mean I am no longer going after a BQ.  It simply means I have no intention of getting my heart set on it at the pig... for now... I think.... I reserve the right to change my mind.... 

Columbus Reflections

I didn't really know how the feel the days following the Columbus Marathon.  The first few days were BUSY as I prepared my family for a trip to Disney World that Wednesday.  It was not easy, as everything I did had to be secret.  We were surprising the kids by taking them out of school, telling them we were all getting flu shots and heading to the airport instead.  That day was priceless... one I won't forget.  One the kids won't forget either.  The second part of that surprise was that Krista, Martin and their kids (who my kids adore) would be joining us there.  So the busy-nesss of that week took precedence over my wounded ego and sore legs.  While in Disney World, spending everyday on my feet walking for hours, I was constantly reminded of what had just taken place that previous Sunday.  Getting on and off rides, my quads would grumble, I still hadn't really reflected on that race.

Upon arriving home, once the suitcases were unpacked and life had returned to "normal", I had my moment of reflection.  What did I think of that race?  Was I disappointed in myself?  Was I "grieving"?  The truth of the matter is I just don't know.  Was that failure to nail a BQ as bad as this one?  Not even close.  There is no comparing the races.  The similarities remain in the race day events and the people who were there.... the fact that it was Columbus, that the weather was beautiful, that my sister had flown in, that Sarah had run with me, that Krista and her friends did the half marathon and that John was a nervous wreck.  Everything else is vastly different... particularly how I viewed my performance.

Up until this past summer, I believed that not only was a 3:50 the best time I could have achieved last year, but also a better time than I should have been able to get.  I recalled the painful shuffling, the aching back, the burning quads and blistered toes.  I considered myself quite a champion for shaving off the kind of time I did from one marathon to the next.  And is that admirable?  Certainly!  But I also realize that last year, I was very capable.  Perhaps not by much, but I believe had I entered that race with the mindset I have now, I would have qualified last year.  I had convinced myself that I was not capable of a qualifying time.  I entered that race not sure if I would even hit the 4 hour mark.  I just didn't know.  I had no race to compare with this kind of training.  I was told by many, "You are ready, you will do this."  I didn't believe them.  Had those same people known the state of my mind at the time, they may have been more likely to say "Why bother running this thing?  You've already decided you aren't capable and you will not succeed."  I had not trained my body or my brain to tolerate suffering and push negativity aside.  That is what champions are made of.  I did not realize that the elite racers that win marathons do not necessarily cruise in unscathed.  That they experience ridiculous amounts of pain and suffering during their races.  Pain and suffering that they allow and accept as part of winning.  I had not trained myself very well to work through fatigue, to go faster when I had "nothing left" and at all costs, to do so with a positive mental mindset.  All the things I did over this past summer, I did not know to do last summer.  I woke up yesterday morning to an e-mail from Kathleen.  She told me about the guy who had paced her for her first qualifying marathon.  This man was legally blind, ran a 2:54 marathon in Boston and came out a week or two later to pace her for her race.  During her training, Lyn told her to "put a metal rod in her pocket and bend it with her mind".  She said she did not actually do that, but that those were the types of things he would say.  This is a guy who also ran for the U.S. team for the Para-Olympics in Sidney and Atlanta.  I keep going back to the words "Lyn was legally blind".

As I take a look back at last year's race, I find myself wanting to kick my own ass, but then again, I realize I simply didn't know any better.  I remember growing up and asking my parents for things I wanted and upon hearing "no", would go into a tantrum of "but WHY NOT??"  My mom's response was simple, yet always the same... "You can't give what you haven't got."  Back then, no more annoying phrase could have been uttered.  Today, however, I'm finding myself kind of using it in regard to that marathon.  I couldn't do what I didn't know to do.  This experience has produced a tremendous amount of frustration, no doubt.  But it has also provided the opportunity for a tremendous amount of learning and growth.  Would I be the same runner, or person for that matter, had I qualified last year?  Well no, I'd have a big Boston medal dangling from my rear view mirror.... SOMEBODY better hope her car never gets broken into.  Am I praying that I've learned all the necessary lessons to qualify... uh, yes.  Most definitely I am hoping that all has been learned and that God sees he has beaten the virtue of patience into me.... I don't think he needed two years to do it, but it's best not to argue with God.

Marathon Morning

Did I mention that I fell asleep restlessly the night before the marathon?

The morning arrived!  I was awake very early and as one can guess, did not get sleep much at all.  I opened up my lap top to find an e-mail from Sarah that she had written the night before.  Essentially this note told me I was ready.  To believe I was ready and to calm down and have the time of my life running this marathon.  It was very encouraging and very welcomed and I remember a moment of calmness washing over me as I read her words.  Sarah was going to meet me at the halfway mark and run the second half with me.  This thought was also a comfort.

I went into that race with a plan.  I needed a 3:45 to qualify and traditionally, I race like a dumbass.  I go out too fast and then struggle.  This is in any race... 10k, half, whatever.  I knew that was not the way to run this qualifying marathon.  I decided to hook up (not literally of course) with the 3:50 pacer and run about 10 miles with him.  I would then begin to pull ahead once I was fresh and warmed up and feeling relaxed.  I would need to knock only 11 seconds per mile off my time in order to hit a 3:45.  I felt I could do that (well, I felt I could do that when I wasn't freaking out).

Once dressed and ready, John and I headed to the lobby, where we met Sarah and Susan.  I don't remember being as anxious as the day before.  I was able to eat some of the stale bagels the hotel had sitting out and drink some precious coffee.  I wonder if I was experiencing the calm before the storm.  I was actually chatting and not nasty.  We headed out to the car and drove downtown, parked in a garage and headed to the start.  The forecast for the day was perfect.  The morning was starting out in the 40's with a high expected in the upper 50's.  I could not have hand picked a better forecast for that race.  Making my way through the crowd, I felt the panic set in once again.  Here I was.  The qualifying marathon.  The marathon that would get me a ticket to Boston.  And then I began to recall my 2007 marathon.  I felt my breathing get shallow.  From 4:52 to 3:45... how in the HELL was I going to do this?  I tried to hide my panic from John, Sarah and Susan.  They were excited and chatty.  John was snapping pictures and taking video.

We made our way to the 3:50 pacer without any problem.  He had yet to have a flood of people crowding around him.  I needed to go to the bathroom, but didn't dare leave my spot, so I didn't go.  I listened carefully as the pacer told us he would be running "even splits".  Perfect, I thought.  This puts me at a pace of 8:40's for the first 10 miles.  I can do that.  Again, calmness.  The crowd was thickening, the intensity was building.  Music was blaring, excited and nervous runners were jumping and stretching and staying close.  Runners were messing with their watches, girls were making sure their headbands were in place and pulling their pony tails tight.  I enjoy the beginning of races.  For as nervous as I was, I loved the atmosphere.  It always makes me so proud to be part of such an awesome sport that anyone can do.  An event where both elite and novice runners band together in the same place at the same time and for a moment, become equal.  The starting line is a wonderful place to be!

The gun went off and the race began.  I stayed so close to that pacer.  Steady and even, allowing the stress anxiety and nervousness fall away.  We were running nice and easy and when the first mile past, I glanced down at my Garmin to notice we had run that mile in 8:21.  Ok, that's fine... he'll probably back off a bit this mile.  Mile two.. our pace was 8:15.  I felt good and decided I would just do whatever he did and not worry about it.  Mile three... I could no longer avoid the fact that I needed to go the bathroom.  Tons of Gatorade, water and nerves were finally kicking in.  I stopped to use the mile 3 port o john... no line.. in and out.  I caught up to the pacer and was feeling more relaxed and warmed up.  By mile 5, his pace had slowed a bit, but was still not the 8:40's I had assumed we'd be running.  Now I felt good.  Now I got antsy and now I was about to throw my smart girl plan in the trash.  I pulled ahead of the pacer (5 miles earlier than planned and over paced for even a 3:45 finish).  I ran the next couple of miles easily.  By mile 10, though, I began wondering if I'd made the right decision.  All I could think of was "I'm not sure I can do this for 16 more miles."  Ok, NEVER, EVER think of how much further you have to go when running distance.  That will kill you... and it did.  By the time I got to mile 13, I was not feeling great.  Sarah jumped in and John told me I was behind.  I was NOT behind as my pace band had me 2 minutes ahead.  He was wrong, but didn't realize it.  His statement however, upset me terribly.  I began to think maybe I was wrong and I was behind and I STILL HAD 13 MILES TO GO!  "How ya feelin'?"  Sarah asked.  "Not too great, Sarah."  "Well, that is a problem.  We are just halfway done."  We ran along, chatting.  She was trying to get my mind off how I was feeling.  Unfortunately, she did not come armed with any good, juicy gossip.  I'm sure that would have helped!  Over the next 5 miles, I was beginning to mentally spiral downward and it was happening quickly.  By mile 18, I was really struggling.  Of course the thought of "I can't do this for 8 more miles" was killing me.  I stayed steady for another 3 miles, but at mile 21, I'd decided I was done.  I'll never forget this moment and how my body reacted.  I turned to Sarah and said "It's ok, Sarah.  I wasn't sure I was ready anyway.  You know I'll try again.  This is only my first attempt.  I'll come watch you in Boston."  Game over.  Done.  Guess what happened INSTANTLY to my pace?  It dropped.  Mile 21 was where fell off the pace band.  It was also the moment my mind DECIDED I was not going to qualify.  Some fighter, huh?  Sarah was not happy with me.  She did tell me that it was "bullshit".  She continued to pull me along and try to get me to pick it up.  But once your mind decides something, your body follows... involuntarily, it follows.  The brain is the most powerful human organ and yes, my brain screwed my race.  I was miserable!  I was so negative during those miles.  I was irritated with the spectators, the other runners and Sarah.  She had only jumped in halfway and was trying to torture me.  She did not understand what I felt like right then.  I wanted her to jump off the course (I actually may have wanted her to jump off a cliff right then), but then again, I didn't.  At mile 25, I saw John.  I told him to come run with me.  He jumped in and with Sarah and John each taking my hand, I was pulled for roughly the next 1/2 mile... physically pulled.  That was also when I informed John I would be going to Boston to watch Sarah race.  Prior to that, he told me "You can't go unless you qualify."  Ok, that is funny.... he already knew that if I wanted to go, I'd go.  Sometimes he likes to pretend he's in charge and throw his weight around.

John and Sarah jumped off the course as I made my way through the final .2.  I crossed the mats and looked at my Garmin.  Shocked!  How did I manage a time like 3:50:10 for how slowly and horribly I was running at the end?  I was expecting closer to a 4 hour finish.  I made my way to my friends and family.  Yes, there was Maggie, in from Houston.  She came to watch me qualify.  She looked a her imaginary watch and told me I owed her quite the hefty airfare.  I hugged Krista, who had finished the half, Sarah... who I'm not sure what she was thinking and John, whose disappointment could have been spotted a mile away.  "I'm sorry, buddy.  Next time."

Now I had 4 minutes and 10 seconds to shave off.  That was doable.  I had just shaved off 1 hour and 2 minutes, so this would be no problem.  And so I began to plan the next one.

Calling bullshit... and the 2009 Columbus Marathon

Shortly after reading my most recent post, I received an e-mail from my sister, Maggie.  She decided to "privately call me out" on the fact that she had many times been witness to the "party bitch" and that I wasn't exactly being straight about the calm, cool and collected girl I claimed to be.  Coupled with the fact that John laughed at my saying a messy house didn't stress me out, I decided to revisit this.  Ok, I will admit, that at times I have been known to turn into a royal you-know-what when I am having company.  But that's normal for any woman, right?  I mean, you want to invite guests over and have the house look respectably clean when they arrive, don't you?  I don't think that classifies me as a high strung nervous wreck.  And yes, I like to have the breakfast dishes done and the kitchen cleaned up before I leave to take the kids to school in the morning.  But that is only because I often don't get back home until close to lunch time and don't want to be doing breakfast dishes while making myself and Lucy lunch.  Nothing screams abnormal to me there, either.  But fair enough, John and Maggie.  I'll admit I can get a tiny bit uptight about this subject, but obsessive and crazy?  No way.  Not for me.  Come check out the house right now and you'll see just how laid back I can be.  Now that that is settled, on to marathon morning!

I get the feeling that anyone reading this blog who doesn't know me well outside of my running world may think I'm a bit "high strung".  Last night at Nick's surprise 40th birthday party (BTW, great party... a ton of fun and how the hell does my brother know so many people?  Who like him?), my brother Jack told me that "someone" following this blog said I needed to "relax".  Now I'm sure Kathleen meant that in a good way (right Kathleen?), but the comment made me think about the things I've been writing.  I started thinking, "Wow, I imagine people WOULD get the impression that there is a crazy mess inside of my head!"  And so to those people, I offer this explanation.... I am actually a pretty laid back person.  I don't  fret too much when my house is a mess.  I don't freak out when my kids get sick.  When things normally don't go my way, I approach them with the attitude of  "alright then, lets fix this and move on."  No fuss necessary.  I tend to procrastinate and put things off until the last minute without getting too stressed about whatever it is that I need to do.  I know it will get done.  People who over-react drive me crazy!  For the people that know me very well, this obsessive running stuff comes as a big surprise and I've heard "You? Seriously?  I can't picture you being nervous at all!"  I haven't heard it in a while because they all know it now.

The purpose of my writing this blog is simple.  I am in awe of the lessons I've learned from something as simple as running and I want to share them.  Perhaps I am a bit more comfortable with allowing people to take a close look at my insecurities.  I realize most people are not.  I am shocked at what setting a goal and not meeting it has done to change the way I think about so many things.  I have never REALLY believed in the power of positive thinking.  In my pre-BQ attempting world, black was black and white was white.  You've either trained well and you'll get it, or you haven't and you won't.... which was why I was so nervous the first time I attempted it. I simply didn't trust my training or my ability.  It stemmed from inexperience.... entering a territory I was completely unfamiliar with... competition and racing.  I desperately wanted to succeed as many of my family and friends were cheering for me in Columbus, on-line at home in Cincinnati and in Maryland, where my running cousins live.  And now, I desperately want to succeed as 4 little sets of brown eyes have seen mom fail, try again, fail, try again and fail... again.  So I'm sure it comes as no surprise when I say that there is no way in Hell I will stop trying until that gd Boston Marathon lets me in!  Not only do I still want to get there, but now I have a pretty powerful message to deliver to my kids about life and goals and keeping your eye on the prize and NEVER QUITTING.  Never in my life did I want to be 7 years older more than I did after this year's Columbus Marathon (obviously by that I mean my time would have qualified me).

What I have also learned is that a positive mental mindset is critical to achieving a goal such as this, or any for that matter.  This blog will take you (and myself) through the now two year process of my BQ quest.  You are now reading and learning about the insecure, doubting and scared marathoner I was a year ago.  As I continue to blog, my hope is that you will see the growth that has come and continues to come out of this journey.  Believe me when I say I toed that line in Columbus last month with all the confidence in the world that I would be going to Boston this April and also when I say that I fully believe I am a much better runner than the 3:45 I need to get there (this damn injury needs to heal so I can keep it that way).  I hope you will enjoy reading how I have gotten to this point.  There have been a lot of people who have helped me, that is for sure!  Many of whom have had the guts to "tell it like it is" to me when it wasn't easy or when I didn't want to hear it.

So Jenn, there answers your question.  The answer to my "decision".  Of course I'll try again.  Heck, I won't even say "try".  I'll just say.... Of course I'll qualify for Boston at the next marathon I choose to run for a BQ!  How's that for confidence?

Kathleen, I'm not crazy.  It just appears so at the moment.... give it time.  You'll be proud of me!

Emma's page

Well here I sit.  I wasn't too sure I was going to post this morning.  I'm starting a bit late (and for the record, I am not writing these posts at 3 a.m. like the bottom of the post indicates.  I guess the blog time is a bit screwy) and we have a busy day ahead.  Emma's soccer team has made the state tournament and will play their first game this morning.  Well, ok, I guess that is it.  So we're not that busy today, just this morning.  I can't post what I've got going on tonight.... in case my brother Nick reads this, which I'm certain he doesn't.  And if he does, then I've got nothing going on tonight either.  Just sittin' at home with the family doing family stuff.  Fill ya in later!

Back to Emma... I'm not usually the type of mom that goes on and on about how wonderful my kids are.  Mostly because they are not. Or should I say, they don't always act "wonderfully".  They are pretty typical kids and siblings.  They fight, they are mouthy and they complain an awful lot about chores.  I don't gush a lot about their accomplishments (to them, yes I do) because frankly, I know people who have "perfect" children (or at least they believe they do) and I honestly get the urge to smack them sometimes.  I love hearing about awesome things my friends' kids have done, but all of my friends also have no trouble revealing their kids' imperfections as well.  In other words, they make me feel normal.  Like I'm not raising beasts.  Because sometimes I wonder.  Does this make sense?  However, this is my blog and I can write whatever I want and so before I write about the marathon, I'd like to tell you about Emma because she has a place in this blog.  Emma is my 9 year old daughter.  She is in the fourth grade.  From day one, Emma has been an attention seeker.  She was due on St. Patrick's Day, but arrived on Valentine's Day, 5 weeks early.  The joke in our house is that Emma didn't want be screwed out of a holiday birthday and if she had to be early, it still had to be a holiday.  This theory goes along with her personality.  She and I butt heads... A LOT.  When she was younger, I had been known to actually lock myself in the bathroom to keep from going overboard while spanking her.  For the record, I never did (go overboard that is).  She tested my patience immensely and to this day, still does, but more so with her mouth and attitude than by writing in Sharpie all over a new set of white bunk beds.  Emma is loud and full of life and when in a room full of people she knows, demands attention and exudes confidence.  And why shouldn't she be confident?  She is a beautiful girl (and this is not the mom in me talking... she is a gorgeous child).  She is incredibly witty and has a terrific sense of humor.  She is a master at imitation and provides many laughs during dinner.  Emma is also a terrific athlete.  She has a strong body, muscular and tall (not super tall, but on the taller side for her age) and seems to do quite well in whatever sport she plays, which at the moment, is three (whew... but I'm not saying I want her team to lose today, but oh my, the girl is maxed out right now).  Emma is also very smart.  Certain things, language and writing, come very easy to her.  Other subjects, such as math, do not.  But she is a perfectionist.  She wants straight A's.  And so she works her tail off, spending as much time on homework as it takes to have all the answers correct.  Too bad her mother can't tell her whether all the answers on her 4th grade math homework are correct!  Guess which subjects I did well in and which ones I did not?  At parent-teacher conferences the other night, her math teacher described Emma as "perfect".  John and I looked at each other with puzzled looks on our faces and said "HUH?", to which her teacher replied, "She is.  She is going to be something great someday.  I can just tell.  This girl has it all."  Well, gee, what parent wouldn't swell with pride at that report?  I mean, we had just come from one conference where the topic was our 6th grade son's handwriting.  It is so bad that his teachers are threatening not to grade his stuff if they can't read it.  Brilliant boy, sloppy as hell.  And we were about to go into our second grade son's conference not anticipating wonderful things to come out of that one, either. We were pleasantly surprised with that one, though.... the kid needs to focus more, that's all.... oh and work on his math facts (damn genetics!).

So what is the point of all this rambling about Emma?  Everyone who really knows Emma sees a bright future in whatever it is she chooses to do.  Everyone, that is, except Emma.  Yes, this funny, bright, athletic, beautiful girl struggles with self confidence.... and at times, that has really worked against her.  She is very competitive.  Second place has no place in Emma's world.  She ran track for 2 seasons and would crumble any ribbon that was not a blue ribbon, often times angrily crying when the race was over. It made me crazy that John was secretly proud of this "competitive" side of our daughter.  Competitiveness is a wonderful thing, but not when it reduces a child, who ran a terrific race to tears because she came in second.  There must be a balance.  She suffered from extreme anxiety at the beginning of each race.  So much so that she refused to run track a third season despite my pleading with her.... because she's fast.  I would say "Emma, you are such a good runner.  Why won't you run track?"  Her reason was simple.  "I hate the meets, mom.  I get so nervous before the race.  It makes me feel so bad."  Well there you go.  How do I argue.  How do I get mad at her when I know exactly how she feels?  I want so badly to make track a wonderful experience for her.  I want so much for her to love running as I picture my girl and me, side by side, running marathons some day.  She felt sick and paralyzed over the expectation she had placed on herself.... to get first place.  And in my case, to qualify for Boston.  She was moody and mean the mornings of her track meets (and I do dread waking her up for her state championship soccer game today... John doesn't make it easy by promising her a Dairy Queen blizzard for each goal she scores... small for 1 goal, medium for 2... you get the picture.  The girl has an insatiable sweet tooth).  I recall how I was the night before the 2009 Columbus Marathon... moody and mean.  Just plain sick over the expectation of a BQ.  But where does this come from?  Why is it so hard to trust the training... the time and hours spent running in preparation for this race?  What does everyone else see that is so damn hard for myself to see?  Or for my daughter to see in herself?  In my case, it makes (or made) Sarah CRAZY.  I swear, she'd like to drop kick me to the middle of next week whenever any kind of doubt crosses my lips.  I've learned to choose my words carefully around her when it comes to this subject.  She doesn't have these mind tricks when she races.  She sees it, she wants it, she gets it.  Plain and simple.  And guess what.  It works.  And I've worked VERY hard to make it work for me... that is for another entry.  For now, I've got to go get John some coffee (he's over there requesting that I heat in up in the microwave first for 30 seconds... YES SIR!) and wake up Emma so I can watch her kick some serious soccer butt today.

Summer 2009... Columbus Training... Part 2

Something different today.  Purple ink.  Just because I feel like it.  I was telling Sarah that I had what I consider a great breakthrough yesterday.  Every morning when I go downstairs to get my coffee, I feel a familiar "twinge" go up my left leg with the impact of landing on the steps.  It's not painful, however it is a reminder of what is going on in there.  I don't recall feeling it yesterday morning.  I also recall kind of "bounding" down the steps... without that feeling.  This is no way means I'm ready to lace up the running shoes and head out the door, but it is a positive breakthrough.  A step in the right direction and one day closer to being able to run.  I realize I've still got some weeks to go, but it lifted my mood like little else has since October 17th.

Back to Columbus training!  I continued to meet the Westside group every Friday at 6 a.m.  We would run a variety of routes.... downtown, clifton, the Flying Pig course, which as I recall, was a 21.something mile run!  Because I was an exacto-maniac at the time, I remember thinking Kathleen was crazy for picking this route because "it was not 20 miles and my training plan said 20 miles, not 21."  Oh my, I can hardly type some of these things without cracking up at myself.  One particular 20 mile run took us through Clifton to Hyde Park.  Now I mentioned this group liked to stop for pastries, didn't I?  Well what better place to stop than the Bon Bonerie in O'bryonville!  That was pretty much 10 miles out and was our turn around point.  Bill was on this run with us that morning.  I had gotten a little wiser and was now also eating pastries with them... there is zero guilt on a 20 mile run.  If there is, you've got issues.  We walked outside to eat our snacks and Kathleen started making fun of Bill.  Bill was sipping a piping hot cup of coffee.  Remember, this was summer.  We had just run 10 miles and the thermometer was inching toward a very warm day.  We were all drenched in sweat, craving something ice cold... and there was Bill.  Man, nothing says refreshing like a steaming hot cup of coffee outside on a 90 degree day during a 20 mile run, right?  It was a little amusing, and added some humor at a point where I was losing mine.  That was the day they took me up Westwood Northern Blvd.  HOLY.MOTHER.OF. GOD!!!  We got to the bottom of Westwood Northern Blvd.  The group stopped.  Now it was Gretchen, Kathleen, Ken and myself.  Bill and his coffee took a different way home.  I should have known by the conversation that I was about to get my ass kicked.  I really should have had my cell phone handy, ready to call John to come get me.  I think the conversation went something like this..."Should we take her up this?"  "I don't know, Kathleen.  She may not ever come back with us."  "Well, it'll be good initiation."  Yes, THEY were a little reluctant and THEY were used to this crap.  And so we began.. the rolling hills of a very long road that seemed to never end.  Hill after hill with no relief.  Not just short steep hills or long mild inclines.  These were long, steep, repetitive hills.... and after 14 or 15 miles into this run, I was simply out of gas.  Gretchen and Kathleen were way up ahead.  Ken stayed back with me.  When the torture finally ended, I could barely run anymore.  We still had a mile or so to go to get to our cars and I felt like I had just finished a difficult marathon.  My legs were reduced to a shuffle.  According to my Garmin, we hit 20 miles before we got to our cars.  I started to walk the rest of the way and Kathleen said "Come on.  Run it in.  Slowly, but just keep running."  I started to realize I was way out of my league with this group.  The run ended and I collapsed onto the seat of my car, but not before yelling "See ya next week!"  I too, was becoming a sick, torture loving freak.

I continued to enjoy the company, learning so much about each of them, all the while being pushed to run a bit harder when tired.  These runs were priceless.  I would not have done this running alone back then.  Kathleen told me over and over, "You will do so great in Columbus.  You are a strong runner.  Don't worry so much.  Keep coming with us and you'll get there." For the first half of those runs, I believed her.  I was excited and confident.  But as the weeks to Columbus closed in, something deadly was entering my mind... doubt.

I ran alone during the week.  I never seemed to push myself as hard as I did with the Westside group.  I definitely got the miles in and I was definitely getting faster.  I did what my training plan told me to do.  Every day, regardless of how I felt.  If I felt great, but the "schedule" said easy, I took it easy.  If I was having a bad day and the schedule said "pace", I pushed it.  That was not the right thing to do.  The biggest thing I have learned is to LISTEN TO YOUR BODY!  If you are having a bad day, take it easy.  There is a message from your brain.  Listen to it.  If you feel really good, PUSH YOURSELF... HARD!  Get yourself to that heaving, gasping, can't get your breath, burning legs point.  It feels bad, but is critical to performance improvement.  Those were hard lessons to learn, but I'm happy to report, I've learned them.

As Columbus got closer, I began to think about my last marathon.  The 2007 Flying Pig, where I clocked a 4:52.  Two years later, with no other marathons, I was going to need to clock a 3:45.  That is a 1 hour and 7 minute difference.  That is HUGE.  I remember the way I felt during the Flying Pig.  A 4:52 was THE BEST I had.  I gave everything in that marathon and took a month to recover.  How in the world did I think I could go out and drop that kind of time on my very next marathon?  I began to obsess over this, becoming increasingly anxious and doubt ridden as the the time passed by.  Everyone that knew I was training would say "Can't wait to see you qualify!  You are so going to do this... you and Sarah, running Boston.  How cool!"  My sister Maggie also informed me she would be flying in to see the "big event" happen.  She was going to be there when I qualified.  I could not take it anymore.  I wanted to tell everyone that I wasn't sure I could do this.  That I'd been looking at my times and that according to a virtual running forum I was part of, it looked like the BEST I could do was a 4 hour marathon.  But no, I kept quite, saying I was "excited" and looking forward to the race.  I was looking forward to that race as much as one looks forward to taking a final exam which they haven't studied for.  Boston was looming.  Sarah was counting on the person who convinced her to try again.  And I was a mental mess.

About two weeks before the race, I'd had enough.  The taper was in full swing (by the way, tapering sucks.  It always makes me frazzled) and I wasn't sleeping well due to the anxiety over this marathon.  I finally came out and started setting the stage when people would talk about Columbus.  I'd say things like "You know, I don't know if I'll qualify.  Hopefully I will, but I'm just not sure.  If I do, it will be to the second."  There it was.  My out.  Now it would not be expected.  By me, or by anyone else.  Only one person was not having it.  Sarah.  "Bullshit."  Was the response I got from her.  "You are ready and you HAVE to get your mind ready, Kate.  You cannot go into this with doubt.  You have to be confident.  Trust me.  You are ready." She had no idea the extremes of my negativity.  Blah, blah, blah.  That is all I heard.  I just don't know if I can do this and that is that.  My mind has nothing to do with qualifying or not qualifying.  I didn't realize I was a damn rookie that didn't know shit last year.

Marathon weekend arrived.  John and I drove up to the expo on Saturday, October 17th.  I don't remember a lot about it the expo other than the overwhelming feeling of wanting to vomit.  So much of that day is a blur.  We met a group for dinner... Sarah, Susan (running the half), Maggie (in from Houston) and our best friends from Columbus, Krista and Martin.  Krista was also running the half.  Being with her set me a bit at ease and took my mind off of the race for a bit.  Her light-hearted, easy going fun nature is infectious and I actually do remember relaxing a bit at dinner (the wine may have helped too).  I think Sarah may have convinced me to have a glass of wine.  She was so in-tuned to the anxiety I was having and thought it would help... (a sign of my progress would be that her recommendation this year was chocolate milk with dinner.  Not wine :)  After a nice dinner with my sister, friends and husband, we said our goodbyes and headed back to the hotel for bed.  I got to the hotel and got all my stuff ready for the morning... shoes with chip tied on, Garmin charged and ready, race number pinned on, 3:45 pace band laying out.  Everything was ready and I was miserable.  Every remark that came out of my mouth that evening to John was bitchy.  I snapped at him from the time we stepped foot into that room until I turned out the lights.... which I finally did... laying awake absolutely dreading the task at hand the next day.  It was a feeling like no other and that I will never repeat again.  Tomorrow I was going to "try" to qualify for the Boston Marathon while MY world watched on-line.  I tossed and turned for what seemed like hours and at some point, did drift off into a restless slumber.

Defining Grief

After re-reading my entry yesterday, I realized how silly some of this sounds to a non-runner (or maybe even to a runner.. I don't know).  I mean, GRIEF?  Really?  You are experiencing grief because you cannot run?  You can bike, use your elliptical, lift weights and walk, but you can't run so you are seriously grief-stricken?  Do you even know what grief is?  I mean, have you ever lost a loved one suddenly?  Now that is grief.  Having a stress fracture, a mild one at that, is not.

Well yes, I have lost a love one suddenly.  Not just once, either.  I've been front and center during two very tragic losses of two very young people, both of whom I loved very much.  That kind of grief is hard to put into words.  There is no comparing that grief to what I am experiencing now.  It's like apples and oranges... both fruit, but very different.  Of course that grief is much worse!  Of course I'd rather have 2 full-blown broken legs, a fractured pelvis and be in traction with eyebrows that need to be waxed (that will just keep getting bushier because I'm in traction... with people visiting me... yikes!) than to ever experience something like that again.  But here are the lessons I've learned about tragic grief... this is not just my opinion, it's what I've actually seen happen.

When you experience horrible loss, one of two things happen.  You grieve (for a long time), you start to pick up the pieces a bit, you heal and you become happy again.  OR... you grieve and just simply become numb.  Numb to any other strong feeling... happiness, sadness, anger, whatever.  You just shut down.  It is a defense mechanism for sure.  It is how you cope with loss and how you protect yourself from future devastation.  My husband lost his only brother and my sister lost her young husband.  Both deaths were shocking and unexpected.  Both deaths were gut punching, pull the rug out from under you, knock you on your ass and beat you to a pulp kind of deaths.  In the beginning, both deaths made my husband and sister think they would never get over it.  Ever.  And to say they "got over it" is the wrong choice of words.  But they have healed.  With the support of a loving family and the grace of God, they are both happy.  They both enjoy life to the fullest and are able to experience all human emotion fully again... happiness, sadness, anger, whatever.  And yes, even grief.  Even grief that is not as bad as what they experienced in the past.  John was grief-stricken when he did not get into dental school the first time he interviewed.  Was that grief as bad as losing his brother?  No, but he still experienced grief.  And he chose to go for it again.  And making that choice was hard, but so worth it.  And when he was accepted, he was elated.  Yes, ELATED! Even though there had been a time when he never thought he'd be happy ever again.

I swear there is a point here.  I'll try to get to it.  Even though to many, I am perhaps over-reacting to my inability to run right now, there is a bigger picture.  I too, experienced tragic grief along with my husband and sister, and I too, have healed.  And the bigger picture to my grief right now is not just that I can't run.  It is over, once again, the loss of a goal that I have worked so hard for over the last two years.  It is over the fact that I KNEW qualifying was going to happen in Columbus.  I was going to achieve something that three years ago, I never would have imagined possible.  I don't think three years ago anyone that knew me would describe me as "Boston Marathon material".  Not my parents, siblings, husband or friends.  I'd run a couple of marathons, but they were to finish only.  Didn't break any speed records there.  Two years ago I made the decision to find out just how good I could get (I'm still workin' on it) and the fact that just one year later I missed a BQ by 4 minutes and 10 seconds is amazing to me.  So one year later, with a much broader running base, harder training and much fast times, the expectation is that I can blow that 4 minutes and 10 seconds out of the water.  The build up and anticipation to that event was incredible.  And the fact that it did not happen has yes, produced grief.  The week following the marathon was not as difficult as I expected.  Perhaps because I knew that finishing the marathon under such extreme duress was a huge victory alone.  But as the weeks go by and I am still not running and I begin to reflect on my training and what "should" have happened, I am experiencing grief.  My IPOD still has all my running songs on it, including the one I was going to play during the final mile of the marathon (for the record, it's Queen... "I want it all".. great song.  I'm weird, I know)  When I hear it, I cringe.

So now, like John, I have the choice of what to do.  Well, I can hang it up.  Third time was supposed to be a charm, but it wasn't.  I "earned" a spot in Boston by my very training and it is not my fault that my calves didn't cooperate.  Looks like dumb luck follows me to the starting line every time and I am just sick and tired of putting myself out there and setting myself up to fail.  I can't take the roller coaster and the anxiety that seemingly is always followed by let down.  Game over.  Not trying this again.  I am just going to become numb.  After all, there is speculation about Boston lower their qualifying times to make the field "more competitive" and if I can't even reach their standards now, I certainly can't if they toughen them (as my brother Jack puts it... that time is an artificial barrier... that is for another entry though).

OR...

Like my super cool husband, I can grieve, get over it and get back out there and finish what I started two years ago.  I have already made my decision.

Summer 2009... Columbus Training... Part 1

Early yesterday morning I sat down at my computer to start this entry.  I typed in the title and just sat there. Nothing came to mind.  I was distracted by the footsteps of a runner outside my window at 4:30.  I know this runner.  He lives in my neighborhood (the neighbor ladies, ok, myself included, refer to him as "eye candy".  Spare me the text or e-mail, John.  You already know this).  He runs most mornings before work and I often hear him run by my house since I keep my bedroom windows cracked open when it's not too cold.  For some reason, the sound of Jamie running by produced an overwhelming feeling of sadness.  I knew an hour later, my friends would be meeting for a morning run.  I know this happens most Tuesdays and Thursdays, but yesterday it was hard to accept that I had not been able to join them for these.  I thought grief got easier with time?  Not so much for the injured runner.  The more time passes with a running injury, the more panic sets in over thoughts of lost running fitness and the more you realize just how much happier running made you.

Today, however, is a new day.  Windows are cracked and I anticipate Jamie's footsteps at any moment.  I might even do something fun like yell out the window and scare him since I've never seen him wear music.  Might be fun to watch his reaction.  I'll let you know how that goes.  On with my story...

Upon returning home from the Athens marathons, one of the first things I did was get out my calendar and start counting back 18 weeks from October 18th.  In other words, when would training officially begin for the Columbus Marathon.  I came up with a date in mid June.  It was the beginning of April and in order to start Higdon's Intermediate 2 training schedule, he recommended that the runner "be able to run 8 miles comfortably".  Ok, I had some work to do.  I had just nearly gone into cardiac arrest running 2.5 in Athens.  BUT, the good news for runners (news that I'm clinging tightly to these days), is that your body has a "memory".  Sure, you may have been out for a while, but you should be able to build your mileage base much quicker than a true beginner.  So I began to build.  Running just a bit further each time out.  I was pretty amazed how quickly I reached the 8 mile point.  As a matter of fact, I had a few weekends of doing an 8 mile run comfortably prior to the beginning of training.  Mid June arrived and I began my "official" training schedule.  I was insanely scientific about it all.  After each run, I would rush home and plug in my Garmin USB cord to the computer.  Up would pop all my running stats.... average pace, distance, fastest pace, slowest pace, elevation, blah, blah, blah.... Little did I know how much that freakish insanity would work against me.  I'm not saying it's not for everyone, I'm saying at the time, it wasn't for me... but I didn't know it.... Hey, I hear Jamie.  He is late today... 4:48 and I missed yelling at him.  I'll do it tomorrow.  Do you think I have ADHD?

I plowed through training without hip issues.  One Sunday, my brother Jack, also a runner (a freakishly long distance runner...) invited me to come along and run with his group, the Westside Running Club.  They would meet for their typical Sunday 7ish mile run and Jack and I would continue to complete my scheduled 16 miler.  This was a welcomed invitation.  With Sarah not doing as much distance (she was still running, but had also started getting out more on her bike), I was doing most of my running alone.  I don't mind running alone.  There are days when I prefer it.  Days when I have a lot to think about or a lot of praying to do.  But the long runs were always hard for me to do alone.  I had not built "mental endurance" quite yet and that made for some very rough long runs.  That particular Sunday, I got to the designated meeting place before Jack arrived.  I was shocked by the number of runners convening for this run.  Was there a race or something I didn't know about?  No, this was just their Sunday running group.  Man, how freaking cool was this!  I hopped out of my car and looked around.  Immediately, someone came up to me and introduced himself.  I explained that I was Jack's sister and that I was joining them and then continuing on to finish out my long run.  With that, I started "jogging" around the parking lot with all the other runners who were warming up.  Another new concept to me... the warm-up.  With that jog, followed many more eager, friendly introductions from the other runners.  I instantly felt at ease and accepted.  Jack arrived and we took off.  I kind of realized the value of the warm-up.  I was, well... warmed-up.  The first couple of miles were easy.  Then we entered what I like to call "hill-ville".. JEEEZUSS!  Suddenly I was freaking out.  Who were these hill happy freaks and don't they know I have an additional 9 miles to run?  I am not supposed to be running this pace.  Why aren't they slowing down for me.  Damn, now I am in the back and why the hell isn't my brother back here with me?  What a jerk!

We finally finished the run.  Everyone spent some time cooling down, stretching out and chatting.  I was messing with my Garmin, calculating my pace and trying to figure out how to pace my next 9 miles (I told you, I was/am a weirdo).  My brother and I walked over to the steps so he could introduce me to someone.  That someone was a woman named Kathleen.  I learned that not only had Kathleen run Boston (many times), but she had also done her first ultra, the JFK 50, that previous fall and had convinced my brother to do his first one the coming fall.  It would land on his 41st birthday.  Also Kathleen's birthday.  Kathleen asked me what I was training for and upon hearing Columbus, invited me to join some of the group on their long runs.  They did long runs on Fridays, which worked perfectly for me since my husband's office is closed on Fridays.  He could get the kids up and off to school, and I'd have a group to meet... perfect!  She gave me her card and cell number and told me to call her for the time and meeting place the following week, then Jack and I headed off to finish our run.

Thursday arrived and I started to feel very nervous about calling Kathleen.  This group was above my running capabilities.  I did not want them to slow down for me, nor did I want to be left in the middle of downtown alone.  But I so dreaded doing my long runs alone.  So I e-mailed Kathleen, letting her know that according to my training plan, I was to be running "this particular pace" and that I did not want to hinder their run.  Oh my God, I was such a NERD!  She probably thought so to, but she humored me with the response of "I think you will be very happy running with us."  And so I decided to go.

Friday morning I headed over to Western Hills.  I was so nervous.  I did not know these people and I did not know where they were taking me or how fast we were to be running or if I could keep up.  I just knew I wanted company and I do like adventure.  We met in the parking lot of Walgreens, decided on a route and headed out.  That morning I ran with Bill, Gretchen, Ken and Kathleen.  The five of us headed out toward downtown.  I spent some miles chatting with Bill and Ken, then Gretchen, who with Kathleen, mostly ran a bit ahead.  As the miles passed, I began to feel at ease, enjoying the company and pace.  We stopped at the firehouse before reaching downtown to get water.  The firefighters obviously knew this group, asked them "how far today?".  We then headed over the bridge into Kentucky and got to the halfway point, at which there was a bakery... where they stopped... for a danish.  Huh?  I politely declined and explained that I had a "peanut butter sandwich before I left".  Stupid mistake as I struggled up Eighth and State on the way back (I think that is the correct monster hill we took home) and my quads were screaming for glucose!

I ran those final 2 miles in complete misery.  I was not used to running hills like that for my long runs.  I was training for Columbus, and so were they, so why the hills?  We finished up the run, cooled down and said our goodbyes.  As I walked to my car, Kathleen said "See you next week?"  "Yup, I'll be here. Thanks again.  It was great" (a great ass kicking).  I drove home feeling spent and happy.  Man, how I wished Harrison had a group like this!