Just another fun run

This was the theme last year... running marathons for fun as "training runs" to prepare myself for the JFK 50.  I'd sign up as a way to motivate myself to get my long runs in and get a medal and a cheering squad for getting out there and doing what I had to do anyway.  With the pressure of a time goal off the table, I looked forward to the marathons and delighted in completing the distance.  No matter what time I finished, I felt spent, exhausted and like I could not go another step.  In other words, I felt an incredible sense of accomplishment in finishing the marathon.  They weren't my fastest, they weren't my slowest.  But they were my favorite.  Perhaps my favorite of all was the morning I packed up, headed to Indy solo, got my race packet that morning and hopped in line at the start.  That one felt the most like just another long run.  I had run the Chicago Marathon 5 days before and although it was chaotic fun, with all the bells and whistles of a big time race, it paled in comparison to the small town, beautiful fall morning run through Fort Benjamin Harrison.

Every single thing I love about running was wrapped up in that 4 1/2 hour long run, with the exception of having someone to chat with along the way.  The weather was perfect and the course was scenic.  I had lots of time to think, pray and enjoy the run.  I saw every type of runner and tried to imagine their story... the wall hitters, the limping runners, the true racers... why were they here today?  Was anyone else doing this as a training run for an ultra?  To be so in-tuned to my surroundings was such a new and awesome experience for me.  The theme for 2010 was "marathon disasters".  I came out of that year with the feeling of wanting to just take up a different sport.  I was mentally exhausted and felt like the pressures and failures from the previous two years had taken such a toll.  I wanted my race times to reflect my ability, but at best, my performances in races labeled me as "ok".  I focused on the finish time, not everything I went through to make it to the finish.  No matter what I did, the time was all that mattered.  I loved running long, but at that time I absolutely hated racing.  My ego was far too big to handle the disappointments of those marathons, even though one of them was a huge PR for me.

Summer and fall of 2011 morphed me into a different kind of runner.  Time didn't matter.  Distance mattered and I found tremendous joy and happiness in being going out and running for a really long time.

When JFK was over, it was time to incorporate speed into all that endurance training.  Although I loved the slow long runs, I still had that desire to go fast.  I could not wait to begin to do those lung burning, hard running workouts again.  For a couple of months, things went perfectly.  Long runs, easy runs, track work and tempo.  The memory of injury was getting a little too distant and I forgot that unless you are really paying attention, it is very easy to screw things up pretty quickly.  I stopped stretching and icing so religiously.  My diet isn't what it was last year.  I'm getting a tad less sleep and I'm not always paying attention to the ever important heart rate training I was so religious about.  I forgot that I wasn't doing all those things when I cavalierly went out to run with Will for his very first half marathon the day after running 22 miles.  I forgot to remind myself that a lot of things were different from the fall.  To say I wish I hadn't isn't true.  I'm so glad I did.  But it cost me a solid 5 weeks of marathon training.  Five weeks that I could not do any speed work and minimal running.  One, two and maybe even three weeks of lost training, ok..., but five is too many and goals must be readjusted.  Of course I say 5, but it's more like going on seven as I would not dare go out and do a speed workout on my healing calf right now.  And so my goal has gone from racing for a BQ at the Pig with Sarah to running the marathon and going the distance... with Sarah.  She has agreed to run with me, although I think she is prime shape to nail a sub 3:30.  She has NEVER, EVER run a race without the goal of getting to the finish as fast as she can in her head.  I feel it is my duty to change that for her and increase her running longevity.  She has threatened to run under an alias.

This marathon will be like no other I've ever run.  I have accepted running it without a time goal so easily because I know the satisfaction in the finish alone.  A certain friend of mine doesn't know that kind of satisfaction yet.  I've gotten a couple of e-mails from sweet, well-meaning friends who have said they were sorry to hear I couldn't race and how badly I must feel.  It's funny, I don't even know how to respond.  Sure I'd like for everything to have gone as I had planned it to for the Pig.  But it didn't and yet I am equally excited to run.  The desire for a BQ is there, but there will always be other marathons to run.  This marathon has no threat of disappointment whatsoever.  How could I not look forward to it?

I am running to celebrate the memory of my brother-in-law, Mitch.  I am running with the most incredible, thankful heart for a sweet baby girl and well as in thanksgiving for a million other things.

Next time, I am running to crush a Boston Qualifier.

On Monday morning I sat down and wrote a long post about Sunday's 20 mile run and how my knee was hurting but my calf was ok.  As I started writing, a 43 year old mother was struck by a car and killed instantly about 3 miles from my house.  Obviously I didn't know it was happening.  As I finished typing I got a text from my friend Nancy asking if I knew who in our circle of runners was running that morning because a pedestrian had been stuck and killed on Harrison Avenue.  A feeling of immediate panic came over me as I went over the list in my head of the runners I know.  There were two I worried about more than any as I thought of the possibility of who would run alone along that route.  Every time I dismissed the thought... "No, she'd never run that route alone...", it was replaced with "Well maybe she did today."

Several texts and one anxious husband later (sorry Keith), it was confirmed that everyone was safe.  I did not believe it was anyone I knew.

Hours later the news revealed the name of 43 year old Melissa Meyer, who while walking to work, collapsed from a previous medical condition and lay unseen by the driver who ran over her.  My heart felt sad as I stopped to say a prayer for her and her family.

When John came home from work last night he said he saw a car stopped at the accident seen and saw someone place flowers on the guardrail.  How sweet!  After dinner Will asked me if we could run the trails at the park.  Not really wanting to, as night is not my energetic time, I agreed as I thought of what a rare thing it was for him to ask.

I decided to enter the park on Harrison, so I could see where the woman was hit.  As I drove toward the scene, the sight of the flowers on the guardrail and the sign brought a flood of emotion I did not expect.  No, I did not lose someone I knew and cared about, but someone was grieving terribly for the loss of their mother.  There are lives shattered by this woman's unforeseen death.  For someone, the shining, beautiful day was a mockery of their devastation.  The world LOOKS perfect in Harrison, but for Melissa's family, it was anything but.  I also thought of the poor, poor man who hit Melissa.  His life is forever changed and haunted.

Will and I said a prayer together.  We asked God to bring peace and healing to her family and to the man who hit her.  I hope so much they are finding a little.

RIP, Melissa.

Today marks the beginning of the holiest of days ahead.  It is Holy Thursday, a day christians reflect on the things Christ did as he prepared for his death on the cross.  It is a solemn day in the christian community.  Or it should be.  I say this as I pack my family for a vacation that involves heading to the beach.  I have filled my days with busy-ness this week... laundry, errands, cleaning.  I have tried to reflect on the meaning of Lenten season, but have had a really hard time focusing on the significance of it all.  I have spent the past two weeks fighting feelings of anxiety over not being able to run the miles needed as I wrap up training for the Pig.  That has become the constant thought in the back (ok, fine... front) of my mind.  Not the anxiety of Jesus as he was well aware of what was waiting for him.   My morning prayers usually consist of asking for complete release of this tight and cramped up muscle in my right leg, rather than asking for patience and complete trust that things will work out the way they are meant to.  I need to be reminded that they always do, whether I see it or not.   As I entered Lent, the focus of my prayers was Christ and the humble gratitude I felt for what he did.  As Lent wraps up, the shift has gone to Kate and the fact that she is not running like she wants to be.   It is not something I'm proud of myself for, but it is something I recognize and that recognition is by no means coincidence.  In a flurry of days where my prayers stemmed from frustration, there was the awareness that I was not focusing on the right things.  At one point, I quieted my mind and asked God to help change that.  I was sincere and unhurried and totally present during that time.  What a timely morning for God to answer me.

May you focus on the importance of the season.   Run with gratitude.  Run with humility.

Have a blessed Easter.