MCM

In regard to my last post, Dad, rest assured, I have cleared Purgatory and everyone is now in Heaven.

Yesterday John and I ran the 37th annual Marine Corp Marathon.  It was humbling, unexpectedly challenging and indeed, a marathon I will not soon forget.  My husband shocked me with his performance.  I see a tried and true ultra runner in this guy.  At one point, I do believe he was not even coherent, but I never would have known had he not told me later.  He looked completely unaffected by the hills, the wind and the distance.  The entire race, I kept expecting his wheels to fall off, his calves to cramp up or something to snap or pull and take him out.  After all, he didn't listen to me when I gave him advice.  He took weeks off for an injured calf muscle and neglected my ongoing suggesting (ok, nagging) that he get on the elliptical or accompany me to Sarah's cycling class to keep his cardiovascular fitness.  He never got nasty, but he continued to do his own thing, which in my opinion, was the wrong thing.  I told him of how agonizing that race would be for him if he did not do as I say.  I am, after all, a running coach!

Well this running coach was wrong.  Dead wrong.  Not only did I NOT take my own advice on what I know to be proper training (INCORPORATE REST!), but I also clearly did not know what was best for him.  Somehow, he did.  And don't think in days to come that will not annoy the living heck out of me.  But for now, with post marathon euphoria in full swing, I will admit that John did exactly as John should have done.

My morning started at 3 am Sunday.  I awoke from a solid sleep of six hours with a headache.  I had been dealing with it all day on Saturday and was taking ibuprofen every four hours.  I first thought I was just dehydrated.  We had an early flight that had me up at 2:45 on Saturday morning.  Our flight was at 7, but I needed to make sure the house was presentable.  We had our neighbor coming to take care of our pets and should anything happen to us while away, people would surely be coming in and out of the house.  So I got up and cleaned (maybe the headache is not a mystery after all...).  I also knew we'd be sore and tired and I would not want to do a darn thing on Monday.

All day Saturday I forced fluids.  I drank water and Gatorade until I was floating.  I carbed up and was pleased as can be to go to bed at 8 pm feeling bloated and heavy.  I knew this would come in handy during the race.  The headache would lessen considerably when I took ibuprofen, but by that 4 hour mark, I needed more.  I could tell the medicine was working as a "symptom masker".  At 3 am on Sunday morning I got up to go to the bathroom.  The headache was evident and my body was wiped out.  The day before was exhausting and I could feel the lingering effects of it all.  I leaned against the edge of the counter and began to cry.  How in the world could I go out and run a marathon today? I just wanted to go to bed and sleep all day.  What the hell am I doing to myself?  I am exhausted and just couldn't fathom running at all.  It wasn't a shitty attitude that was bringing me down.  It wasn't negative thinking.  It was absolute dread of what was to come with the way I felt.

I went back to bed and tossed and turned until 5.  I then got up, knowing I had to eat.  Maybe coffee would help.  The little hotel pot had 1 single packet of regular coffee.  John and I both drink it and he was beginning to stir.  Well, actually, I was telling him to get his ass up and eat.  I decided to do the nice thing and offered him the coffee.  I did let him know that I had not had any either yet, but he happily accepted that only cup.  I put the freshly brewed cup of watery hotel coffee with nasty powdered creamer on his nightstand.  He continued to lay there and not move.  So I walked over, picked it up and said, "Well since you aren't going to drink it, I will!"  He kind of snickered at my attempt to be selfless, which quickly turned selfish, and got up.  I, on the other hand, left the room in pursuit of REAL coffee (STARBUCKS!) in the lobby (carting the hotel cup of coffee in hand).

Upon my return to the room, John said he wanted to tell me something.  He sat down on the bed and said, "I know I've been telling you for weeks that I want you to run with me.  I know you want to race this and go for a 3:45.  I'm telling you that I want you to race.  I was just saying that, but fully intended to let you go race.  I told Suttan so we have been snickering at all your comments over the past few weeks.  I will be fine and will enjoy the marathon.  You just go do your thing."  Hey Suttan, we need to have a little chat.

"Why did you not tell me this?"

"I didn't want you to get all crazy nervous."

"No."

"No, seriously, I want you to go for it."

At that point, John had no idea of my 3 am bathroom tears.  He had no idea that I wanted nothing more than to crawl back in bed.  I didn't want to walk the marathon, let alone, run it.

"I can't do it today, John.  I don't have it.  I am running with you and we will go for a sub 4.  We will line up with the 4 hour pacer.  Ok, well maybe we'll line up with 3:45."  Yup, that quick.  And then came the nerves.  I am as crazy as a shit house rat.

We met my cousins, Sean and Brian, in the lobby.  Stephen joined us shortly and we were off to the start.  The start was over a mile away and we were accompanied by lots of nervous and giddy marathoners.  As we approached the start, we walked along a fenced in area with tombstones as far as the eye could see.  It was Arlington National Cemetery.  Chills came over me and I stopped to take a picture.  On the website I read that the race starts in between the Pentagon and Arlington.  Right in between those working to protect and keep our country safe and many of those that died doing so.  You'd have to be rock to not feel overwhelmed by just being there and the significance of it all.

We got the start, went to the bathroom with minimal wait and hopped in our corral.  We could see the 3:45 pacer up ahead and that was enough for me.  I didn't know what would happen... we'd just wait and see.  Shortly before the wheelchair race, we were treated to a flyover of 2 Osprey planes.  It was crazy cool.  The National Anthem followed shortly and then the wheelchair racers were off.  In no time at all, the cannon boomed and the marathon began.

In the first 5 miles, I knew a 3:45 wasn't happening.  That sluggish, tired feeling was present even with the adrenaline rush of the marathon start.  I was totally ok with that and settled into a 9 or so minute pace, with John setting the pace.  John felt great from the start.  I could just tell.  His breathing was easy, he was chatty and he looked as relaxed as could be.  By mile 6, my body had warmed up and I felt much better.  "Ahhh...", I thought, "I really DO get better with distance."  This is where I began to enjoy just running alongside my husband, talking and noticing the surroundings.  We were having a great run, racing each other to the timing mats to see who could get the better split (for the record, our splits were exact until the finish, where he crossed one second ahead... whatever!).  I took out my phone to take some pictures of some of the incredible things I'd witnessed along the way.  I smiled at the sweet, encouraging texts from Sarah, who was tracking us.  At the 15k split, I remembered Air Force.  This was when I knew I was in trouble.  No such trouble lingered today.  My legs were not heavy and I felt well fueled.  Although I felt confident a sub 4 hour race was a given today, I approached that thought with caution.  John commented on the number of runners passing us.  I replied, "Just wait until the last few miles.  We will see many of them again."

At around mile 15, the race began to change.  John made a comment that made me think "Boy, it's early for this..."  He was hurting.  I got very worried with still 11 miles to go and his training history.  "It's ok.  Just stay steady.  We are ok.", I said.  And then the wind started.  We looked at each other and said "Well, here it is!" in reference to the nasty winds predicted for the race.  We both got quiet and settled into the task at hand.  One foot in front other.  With the wind picking up, our pace began to slow a bit.  I didn't want to fight it because I knew what would happen... we'd be done by mile 20.  So we didn't fight, but just readjusted and chugged along.

My race changed dramatically at mile 21.  While John seemed to come out of his struggling spell, I was slipping into mine.  We were on pace for just under 4 hours and I knew I was the decisive factor.  "You have just 5 miles to do this for him.  Just 5.  That's nothing.  That's a Marvin loop.  Ok, Marvin sucks, don't think of that.  Ok, how about 2.5 out and back on the outer.  Yeah, much better!"  Then what I like to call the "real stuff" had to be pulled out.  It was time to run in prayer.  It was time to suck it up and stay steady.  Why was I here?  I was here because my cousin, Brian, asked me to be.  Brian has an autistic son, Brian, and we were running in support of the school he attends.  I was thinking of what it would be like to deal with not only that diagnosis, but day to day life, with an autistic child.  A hell of a lot more challenging than anything I have ever dealt with.  I wore a reminder on my head of the "puzzle" of autism spectrum disorder.  Sarah bought me the head band a couple of weeks ago to wear in the race.  I thought of what she was doing... watching the splits, crossing her fingers and hoping we were going to hit that sub 4 time.  I thought of how lucky I am to have such an awesome and dedicated friend.   I continued to pray, certain a gazillion people were entering Heaven as I ran.  I prayed for my goddaughter, Mariana, and the challenges her sweet life will bring for her.  I prayed for sweet Nora, Aleisa and William.  Each thought carried me forward.   But the miles were getting super hard.  At one point we had a small, but insurmountable hill.  I remembering asking Jesus that if He could kindly push me up, I would appreciate it.  My Garmin battery had died around mile 19 and I could no longer see what pace I was running.  John was calling out our splits with each mile and I was certain we had a shot.  By mile 23, John seemed to be a bit ahead.  I looked at him.. perfect form, no shuffle and strong.  "Buddy, go.  Go get that sub 4.  You can get it."  "Nope, I don't care.  We are running together."  "Please, John... YOU CAN DO THIS!"  I thought of my friends who had run Columbus the week before and qualified for Boston.  I remember the pain on their faces when I saw them.  "Come ON, Kate... get it together.  2.5 miles to go.  Those girls gutted it out and so can you.  DO NOT lose this for John."  Hard as I tried, my exhausted body wasn't having it.  I believe the months and weeks preceding this race had come to a head.  There wasn't anything to give and nothing to do but survive the duration.  It wasn't a fuel issue.  I wasn't shuffling, I was running.  It was an exhaustion issue.   At mile 26 there was a hill to the finish.  Knowing we were already over 4 hours, I pleaded with my husband "Don't leave me."  I could not believe those words came from my mouth.  But somehow I didn't think I could get up that hill.  That finish was so close, yet a lifetime away.  Anyone who scoffs at the last .2 miles of a marathon has clearly never run one.  That point 2 is brutal and deserves credit.  As we neared the mat, I grabbed John's hand.  We crossed hand in hand.

Immediately the 3 am bathroom episode came to mind and I smiled.  I was disappointed that we didn't get sub 4, but so happy I was able to complete it in the time we did.  There wasn't a hint of disappointment on John's face.  He was ecstatic!

We made our way through the finishers chute and a line of Marines greeted us and shook our hands and thanked us for running.  "No, THANK YOU!", I said over and over to nearly every single one.

It is hard to run a race like the Marine Corp Marathon and come away unaffected by the things you see on that course.  I hope if you are a marathoner, you will put this one on your list of ones to do.  It is worth the cost of the entry fee and of getting there.  God Bless the USA.

Semper Fi

Offering it up

My dad used to have a saying that drove me crazy.  Whenever something went wrong, or physical pain or discomfort was present, he would say the words, "Offer it up for the suffering souls in Purgatory."  As a kid, teen and young adult, hearing those words annoyed me tremendously.  I used to think, "Sure, dad, I'll happily accept the pain of this nail I just stepped on so that someone I don't even know and never will can get to Heaven.  Whatever."

My, my, how things have changed.  When it comes to running, there are more times than I can count that I have been struggling, when my dad's voice pops into my head... "Offer it up, Katie", (the name only the two most special men in my life call me).  What strength and power those words now have!  How much easier it has become to get through some difficult and trying runs when I can turn my own discomfort into something good for someone else.  It's nothing I can see or touch, yet I know what power it yields and that brings great strength and happiness in the midst of pain.

On Sunday I went to Columbus because a few people I knew were running the marathon.  This is the first time in five years that I have not participated in either the half or full marathon as a registered participant.  I love the atmosphere and hype of a marathon and I really love watching the runners.  I love to watch their faces and try to guess what is going on physically.  I can see strength in the ones that are smiling and I can see many things in the ones that are not.  Suttan and I went to run in 3 of our friends that were doing the full.  The goal time was 3:45 or under, a time that would land each of them a spot in Boston in 2014.  No three runners could be more different in their running histories, yet here they were, towing the line, racing for a common goal together.

After some confusion as to which direction we were actually heading (surprise, surprise... we got a bit mixed up...), we began making our way backwards from mile 26.  Our plan was to meet them at mile 20 and hopefully keep them on pace to the finish.  We agreed that had any of the 3 fallen behind, one of us would wait for that person and run her in.  Because we were late to begin our backward search, we had to run most of it and figured if lucky, we'd meet them at about mile 22.

Along the way, I made a point of looking at the runners.  I mean REALLY looking at them and studying what was going on.  The end miles are so difficult physically and mentally.  If I could have jumped in and hugged each sweaty, salt-crusted, gritty one, I am pretty sure I would have.  I have so much admiration for the determined, gutsy runners out there grinding out the last few miles with sheer will power.  I have so much sympathy for the ones suffering tremendously.  I wanted to call out "Hey I know what you feel like... keep going, you are almost there...", but telling someone at mile 24 that they are almost finished with "2 more miles" is not a always great thing.  You might as well tell them they have 30.  Two miles is an absolute eternity when you hurt so badly.  I hoped that maybe I could just connect with someone's eyes and they would know that I was rooting for them.  Sometimes words are not necessary.  I wondered who was on pace to finish in their goal time and who was crushed under the weight of missing the mark and feeling physically horrible.  In my mind, I called out a thousand times "Offer it up, dude.  It'll be so much sweeter that way."

Before long we spotted three matching shirts running towards us.  The girls were together... FANTASTIC!!!  There wasn't much smiling, but I could recognize relief in their faces upon seeing us. They were well on their way to a strong finish in under their goal time.

After filling their water bottles (I remember aid station workers running toward me at JFK, taking my bottles and having them ready when I ran by.  That was a small, but very appreciated gesture), I told them I would run an 8:35 and they just needed to stay close.  Well quite frankly, I couldn't tell how I was doing.   I couldn't tell if they were fading or I was just running too fast since my Garmin was all over the place.  So realizing the girls had time to spare, I just decided to run with them.  They couldn't really pick up the pace, but they weren't falling behind either.  They each had a different look about them, but all commonly fatigued as only one can be after running that far at that pace.

Within seconds of one another, they each finished in under 3:44.  That was a very sweet moment as their faces all turned so quickly from pain and fatigue to joy.  I was so grateful to have been part of that.

I am sure people wonder how I feel knowing the number of times I've tried to nail this time and seeing all three of these girls do it so flawlessly.  It was even Erin's first marathon.  And here is the honest answer...

There was a time when it would have, and did, sting a bit.   I am human and it was hard to see what seemed like everyone, get what I wanted so badly.   Why was everyone else having these incredible races and why were things falling into place when I was just as capable, yet unable, of getting it?  Isn't this how we view so many things in life?  With the "It's not fair!" mentality?

I believe the echo of my dad's words over and over have brought on a different, more evolved and more powerful purpose to my running.  But it isn't just the echo of those words, but the implementation of them that has transformed me.  It is indescribable what happens when you step outside of yourself and just do for others like we are supposed to do.   I am thrilled for Jen, Cheryl and Erin.  I look forward to the day I can nail that time and join them in Boston (wait... did I just type that?  I sure have a lot on my plate next year :)

Thank you dad.

Blink

Life is but a blink in the grand scheme of eternity.  It is a passing through from this world to the next, where we will spend forever.  My goal is to live my life on earth as if it were a "training ground" (thank you, Tom Ryan) in preparation for my final destination.  And you all know how much I looooveeee training!

Apparently Heaven is a place of unimaginable happiness.  Anything our hearts and souls desire, becomes a reality in Heaven.  I have tried to imagine many times over what this is like.  I believe I have come up with my perfect Heaven.  Upon arrival at the gates of Heaven, I will be judged.  I imagine this to be the most frightening thing I have ever encountered.  I imagine myself to be begging for mercy as my life is played in full view... no excuses, no denial of all the wrongs I've committed.  They are all right there.  But God is so merciful and also accentuates the good things I've done.  He knows my soul inside and out and decides that I always TRIED hard to be better and follow Him, no matter the countless times I failed, I was always sorry and asked for forgiveness.  It was because I tried that I enter into His kingdom.

I walk through the gates... no wait... GLIDE with my sweet new set of wings.  I really don't need legs anymore.  They are just decoration now.  But the good Lord knows what I like and so I am led to my room.  I enter the most glorious room one can ever imagine.  It is filled with the finest, most state of the art running gear ever.  In the back there is a door that leads to a breathless, beautifully wooded area with running trails as far as the eye can see.   There is a knock on my door and it turns out to be Jesus, handing me his running schedule.  Turns out that He, too, runs early.  And of course, we run the same pace.  I am suddenly overcome with emotion and so thankful that I recognized the need to be good on earth because nothing, and I mean NOTHING, could top this moment.  But there is more.  There are marathons and ultra marathons in Heaven.  There are pre-loading pasta dinners and when I arrive at the table, every person that I love who has gone before me is at the table.  And now they have all discovered how much they love running (I suppose it is a lot easier in Heaven) and are also planning on running with me.

Do you know the sense of urgency I have to be there some day?

But I have work to do.  For starters, every important decision I make must be guided with that goal in mind.  The goal to spend eternity with God in Heaven.  One of those decisions is what politician to put into office.  Do not fool yourselves into thinking morality does not come into play here.

I am pro-life.  As a pro-life person, I believe that life begins at conception.  I believe the value of a two cell soul has the same value as a 6 year old breathing child.  That is what it means to be pro-life.  So no wonder it baffles me when I hear self pro-claimed pro-lifers saying they are voting for a president who does not believe the same thing.  I have been told I am tunnel visioned.  That there is more than one issue at stake.  That abortion cannot be the only thing we think about when we vote.  Huh?  Read what I said... I BELIEVE A TWO CELL SOUL HAS THE SAME VALUE AS A 6 YEAR OLD BREATHING CHILD!!  Would the good Lord be ok with me voting for a person who promised me wealth, financial security, free shit, lower taxes, college tuition for my kids and all that other stuff if the stipulation was that it would be legal to kill children, regardless of the reason?  I think not.  It is not pro-choice people that bother me when it comes to their vote.  At least they aren't hypocrites.

I will vote my conscience in order to keep my eye on the prize... running with Jesus.  I hope and pray that others do the same.  Remember, life is but a blink.