Unless you live under a rock, by now you know that American elite runner, Meb Keflezighi, won the Boston Marathon last Monday on Patriots Day. And unless you also live under a rock, I'm sure you've heard about how Ryan Hall may have somehow played a part in his victory. And regardless of whether you think Hall deserves a little bit of credit or you think he is a pompous ass, I'd like to pose one question… how many people actually know the stories and have followed the careers of these two American elite runners? How many of people know their race histories, amazing victories, devastating setbacks and relationship as training partners and friends? For those that don't, a judgement on either of these men based on media coverage that only skims the surface of who they are beyond Boston 2014, doesn't carry much weight (in my opinion).
What prompted this post was an interview posted by Competitor Running, a site I follow and frequent on Facebook. In listening to Bob Babbitt interview Hall, I can see how Hall comes across a bit arrogant at times, but he also had a lot of validity to what he was saying. In other words, because I've read much of Hall's autobiography, I can hear his personality come through (not trying to act like I know the guy, but reading someone's story gives you insight into the way they think and act). The comments under the posting infuriated me, mostly because people thought Hall was taking credit for Meb's victory. NO, he was NOT! Meb ran a fantastic race and deserved every bit of that win. He was strategic and in top shape. His race was executed precisely as he had planned and probably visualized over and over in training. Meb Keflezighi was the sole first place winner of the Boston Marathon.
But Ryan Hall did help his friend. No one can say that Meb wouldn't have won anyway. He likely would have. No one will ever know. But to bash and make such hateful comments such as "Ryan Hall is an ass. Dude hasn't run a good race in over 2 years. Showed his true colors when he pulled out of the London Olympics. He needs to just go away.", shows how absolutely stupid people are when they dare to publicly comment on what they DON'T know.
Ryan Hall holds the fastest American record for the marathon at 2:04 (and change). Meb's PR was in Boston, 3 minutes and 59 seconds slower than Hall's PR. But Ryan has never won a major marathon and Meb has. Place is what gets you the win when racing… any race. That is a fact. Therefore, many people have commented that time doesn't matter and the better runner is the one that gets the higher place and therefore, Meb is better than Ryan. Oh is that so? I am certain I have placed higher in shorter (or longer distance) races than some people that have qualified for Boston. And those people with qualifying times have been able to participate in the Boston Marathon. But my place in any race did not get me into Boston. And hypothetically, even if I had won a marathon on a Boston qualifying marathon course with a 4 hour time (because there were only 3 runners :), I would not be going to Boston. My time, and time only, will get me there.
So that argument is really, really stupid.
I have followed the careers of both these men. They are both top notch, exceptional athletes as well as men of stellar character. They are both devout Christians, which again, if one knew that, he wouldn't be commenting that "Hall only does things for his own glory. No one else." Dear God, idiot, read something about him or perhaps visit the Hall Foundation website and then see what a stupid comment that is! This is a man whom his teammates respect. Otherwise, why would they listen to him on the race course? If I had trained my butt off and was in the lead pack in Boston and was running with some guy who was only in it for himself, there isn't a snowball's chance in hell I would waste a second even considering his suggestions. But they did. And one of the lead Americans, Nicholas Arciniaga, said this:
“So we kept it slow. I don’t know if that did anything to help. But those guys had to work to catch Meb. I think Ryan was really smart to (think to) be able to say that (in the middle of the race).”
Doesn't sound like a bitter and bullied runner to me! Sounds like he knows and respects Hall's character and opinions and therefore, CHOSE to follow his advice.
In 2007, after the New York olympic trials marathon, Meb was crawling around his hotel room as the result of a hip fracture that denied him a spot in the olympics that year. He couldn't walk and had also just learned that another training partner and elite runner, Ryan Shay, had dropped dead on the course. He described that as the "low point in my career". So what did he do? He describes a moment when he just cried and prayed and said, "God, if you want me to continue doing this… which I believe you have called me to do…then help me see that. Otherwise, make it clear that I need to retire." No wonder I got choked up watching him break the tape 7 years later in Boston. And this was not just any year. I know exactly why Meb Keflezighi won that race. And so does he. In everything that happens to him from the tragic to the glorious, he turns to God. His day was coming and he trusted that and at 38 years old, an age that is tough to compete at this level, he pulled off the seemingly impossible in the most meaningful Boston Marathon in history.
As for Hall, who hasn't had low points in their careers? Running is a career for Hall and like Meb, Ryan feels that God called him to run starting in the 8th grade. Part of being so devoted to the Lord is learning to keep that faith alive and strong during some very difficult times. It is easy to love and praise God when life is easy and we are winning. It's a whole other story when life is hard. I do believe it is the most faithful that are tested far more than the luke warm. And so it is also obvious to me why such an amazing athlete like Ryan Hall has had a couple of pretty miserable years. He has been riddled with injuries and has had to pull from many races. He had high hopes for Boston and was so disappointed with his performance. But knowing what I have learned about Ryan Hall, I do not believe for one minute he is taking the glory of this race from Meb. And I believe very much that he tried hard to sacrifice a bit (once he knew he didn't have it in him that day to win or come close) so that an American, one that he loves and respects, could win.
I hope that this ridiculous attack against Ryan Hall stops soon. While everyone is entitled to an opinion, it is much easier to put credence into the opinion of someone who knows what these guys are about on a personal level. And they are both wonderful guys and A-MAZING athletes.
See? All my reading and stalking the elites isn't so futile after all :)
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
It sucked!
When I started this blog in 2010, it was a way for me to do something I love (write), as well as a fun way to show the progression of one's mind and body in the process of going after a goal such as qualifying for the Boston marathon. While writing for some is a painful and mundane act, for others it is an outlet… a source of therapy, if you will, much like running. I guess I am crazy enough to need both types of therapy. I can honestly say I didn't expect to still be blogging about this 4 1/2 years later, that's for sure. If you would have asked me back then, I would have guessed a year, tops. I figured I'd have a couple of Boston Marathons under my belt by now. Heck, it would be an annual event like it is for so many of Boston's participants!
I sit here dumbfounded that it has not happened. I sit here, still in shock over the horrible race that came from the Athen's Marathon.
I don't want to recap Sunday. I did in an email to my running group, who tracked our progress throughout the race, but that is as far as I want to go with it. From start to finish it was an exhausting battle of mind and body and to that, all I can say is, based on my training and my experience, it should not have been. Yes, it was warm, but the temps were not the only thing affecting the race.
But I do want to touch on something that may be a pressing question to many. Since Saturday's post was about my reliance on God during that race, I fear that many will think that the prayers for a successful race were pointless. Did God answer "yes" to my ever so specific prayers and to the ever so specific prayers of all our wonderful families and friends also praying for us? No, He did not. Could He have made everything perfect? Tweaked my mind? Given strength to my legs? Cooled it down a bit? Of course He could have. He is God. Am a just a wee bit perplexed as to why He didn't? Of course I am. I am human.
But there is a difference between being perplexed and losing faith in God. I always try to remember that we are like children in every sense of the word. We are like the two year old asking for the cookie before dinner. Or the teenager asking to go to an unsupervised party. We say please, use our manners and do everything we are "supposed" to do in hopes of being granted a certain privilege. Because of doing those things, we feel entitled to the reward, i.e.., cookie and party. But our parents know that neither of those things are a good idea, though as a two year old or a teenager (who in my opinion have about the same amount of egocentrism), it seems like the meanest and most unfair thing on earth. After all, what can be so wrong with something that tastes so good or is so fun? Now I am certainly not saying that running a good race since I put in the training and have the physical ability is asking for too much. I am simply trying to drive home the point that my small human mind is not always privy to understanding the incredible and almighty God. Much like a child cannot understand a parent's reasoning.
There are stories, countless stories, of people who have seen God's purpose in life's trials only after something happens. A few people last year said that perhaps there was purpose in me NOT being in Boston in 2013. Who knows where my family would have been waiting for me? Who knows where I would have been? I just don't believe that random things that happen in life are just random. There is a method to God's music. Most of the time we can't handle the fact that we don't know the method.
There is another element to the race that has come into light after some reflection. I wanted to go into the race and make sure I offered up my miles for others. It was the beginning of Holy Week and the beginning of Christ's passion, a time of unimaginable suffering both physically and mentally, though his mental suffering started long before his betrayal and crucifixion. And heck, it worked like a charm at Burning River, where I had a lot of physical suffering but not mental or psychological. And I could handle the physical suffering. Certainly I could get the same results! But as I ran, I struggled… terribly. And I won't lie, much of it was anger and trying to calm that anger. I fought and I fought and I fought for 26.51 miles (because that is how long that f%*k%ng marathon was) with waves of different emotions. From start to finish, it was the greatest challenge, mind and body, I have ever encountered. And though I do not DARE compare that type of suffering to the type that Jesus suffered, I can certainly draw some correlation to what it meant.
What I wanted with that race was to glorify God and run with a thankful heart. I wanted to offer all that I had to give for all of which I have been blessed.
I ran with all that I had, in a vicious battle, mostly mental, for over 4 hours and was left with a race time that was 30 minutes off my goal.
And though I won't know until I die and I hand God a lengthy list of "WTF?" questions for Him to answer, perhaps this race was more glorious than I know.
Have a blessed and safe Easter!
I sit here dumbfounded that it has not happened. I sit here, still in shock over the horrible race that came from the Athen's Marathon.
I don't want to recap Sunday. I did in an email to my running group, who tracked our progress throughout the race, but that is as far as I want to go with it. From start to finish it was an exhausting battle of mind and body and to that, all I can say is, based on my training and my experience, it should not have been. Yes, it was warm, but the temps were not the only thing affecting the race.
But I do want to touch on something that may be a pressing question to many. Since Saturday's post was about my reliance on God during that race, I fear that many will think that the prayers for a successful race were pointless. Did God answer "yes" to my ever so specific prayers and to the ever so specific prayers of all our wonderful families and friends also praying for us? No, He did not. Could He have made everything perfect? Tweaked my mind? Given strength to my legs? Cooled it down a bit? Of course He could have. He is God. Am a just a wee bit perplexed as to why He didn't? Of course I am. I am human.
But there is a difference between being perplexed and losing faith in God. I always try to remember that we are like children in every sense of the word. We are like the two year old asking for the cookie before dinner. Or the teenager asking to go to an unsupervised party. We say please, use our manners and do everything we are "supposed" to do in hopes of being granted a certain privilege. Because of doing those things, we feel entitled to the reward, i.e.., cookie and party. But our parents know that neither of those things are a good idea, though as a two year old or a teenager (who in my opinion have about the same amount of egocentrism), it seems like the meanest and most unfair thing on earth. After all, what can be so wrong with something that tastes so good or is so fun? Now I am certainly not saying that running a good race since I put in the training and have the physical ability is asking for too much. I am simply trying to drive home the point that my small human mind is not always privy to understanding the incredible and almighty God. Much like a child cannot understand a parent's reasoning.
There are stories, countless stories, of people who have seen God's purpose in life's trials only after something happens. A few people last year said that perhaps there was purpose in me NOT being in Boston in 2013. Who knows where my family would have been waiting for me? Who knows where I would have been? I just don't believe that random things that happen in life are just random. There is a method to God's music. Most of the time we can't handle the fact that we don't know the method.
There is another element to the race that has come into light after some reflection. I wanted to go into the race and make sure I offered up my miles for others. It was the beginning of Holy Week and the beginning of Christ's passion, a time of unimaginable suffering both physically and mentally, though his mental suffering started long before his betrayal and crucifixion. And heck, it worked like a charm at Burning River, where I had a lot of physical suffering but not mental or psychological. And I could handle the physical suffering. Certainly I could get the same results! But as I ran, I struggled… terribly. And I won't lie, much of it was anger and trying to calm that anger. I fought and I fought and I fought for 26.51 miles (because that is how long that f%*k%ng marathon was) with waves of different emotions. From start to finish, it was the greatest challenge, mind and body, I have ever encountered. And though I do not DARE compare that type of suffering to the type that Jesus suffered, I can certainly draw some correlation to what it meant.
What I wanted with that race was to glorify God and run with a thankful heart. I wanted to offer all that I had to give for all of which I have been blessed.
I ran with all that I had, in a vicious battle, mostly mental, for over 4 hours and was left with a race time that was 30 minutes off my goal.
And though I won't know until I die and I hand God a lengthy list of "WTF?" questions for Him to answer, perhaps this race was more glorious than I know.
Have a blessed and safe Easter!
Saturday, April 12, 2014
Here we go… again!
Tomorrow is a big day. Tomorrow I lace up with two of my friends and we run, no, RACE the Athens, Ohio marathon. I will admit, I am nervous, but appropriately so. It would be odd for me not to be even though I have gotten many well wishes and comments of "You are ready!" "You will crush this!" "Don't worry!", (ha ha… that one is my favorite :). Honestly, my very favorite comment was from Suttan, who I ran with on Thursday morning. We were discussing the weather, which has decided to be very warm (80 degrees). Keep in mind I have mostly trained in freezing and sub freezing temps and there is a phenomenon known as acclimatization. No, it won't be 80 by the 8 am start, but it will most certainly be 70 or so by the almost noon finish.
Anyway, as I voiced my concerns over the temps, sweet Erin tried to dismiss my worries, while Suttan said, "I would be worried too. I would not like that." Now while most people would have looked at her like "How could you say that to this head case??", I so appreciated her validating my concerns and making not feel crazy to be worried because yes, temperatures CAN and DO affect performance. Do I really think they will? No. I think I will do well. But I loved, LOVED that she said that to me. She was still very positive and encouraging. So thanks, Suttan :)
Of course I am nervous. I have toed the line in a quest for a BQ in many races past. I have felt very ready at some of those races. The same thing will happen tomorrow. I will start the race, confident I can get the goal. I am planning a slightly different strategy, however, and I have the utmost wonderful pacer and race partners to run with. My running friend, Greg, will also be running. He is as strong and ready as they come and I cannot wait to race with these two. Sarah will be pacing us. She will also be wearing my Garmin. So I will have no clue what pace I am running throughout the race. She has strict instructions to pace easily in the beginning…. in fact, I hope our first splits reflect a slightly slower time than what I need. The course runs along the river in Athens and is out and back. We run down river on the way back and my hope is to take it easy in the first half and run a nice negative split. I run best that way in training, especially during long runs. So we are mixing thing up and hopefully, we come in right where we want. Keeping my head in check will be the biggest challenge. All the "snap out of it!" advice is not helpful in the least. I am who I am. Yes I have an element of control over which thoughts I choose to let linger in my head, but I also cannot "trick" myself. I'm smarter than that :)
And so, as always, I turn to God, who lovingly whispers, "I got it. Don't worry." I have absolutely no qualms about praying for my race. I don't think it's selfish or unimportant to ask for help with something that is important to me. God LOVES when we rely on Him for everything. I know that if it does not counter His will for me or if there is not, yet again, some lesson to be taken from failure, all will be well. I know this. I also know that if I can't trust God with the little things in my life (and trust me, add perspective in and this is little), then I will never be able to trust Him with the big stuff. So go ahead, pray for your races. Pray for strength, pray for endurance, pray for mental fortitude. God is thrilled when you do and He always shows up! Because spirituality and running are so intertwined with me, I think that the day I am racing is eerily relevant. Tomorrow is Palm Sunday. The gospel will reflect the betrayal and handing over of Jesus to be beaten and ultimately crucified. Certainly reflecting on the significance of tomorrow's gospel will make a difference for me in how I choose to run.
I'm still nervous, though :)
All nerves aside, I have had a great taper. I am well rested and carbed up, though my body is a bit off kilter from all the carbs. I have slept in most days this week… yesterday until 6:30!!! That is huge for me. I must not be THAT nervous if I'm sleeping well. I got to have lunch with my parents yesterday, which was awesome. It isn't too often I get to just sit with them and chat about all sorts of things. Last weekend, they were the main crew (along with my 12 year old nephew) for my brother Jack's 150 mile ultra marathon (sigh). My dad told me the story of how at one point, he and my mom trekked up a muddy, steep hill en route to an aid station. It was around midnight and they had only a small flash light to guide their way. All these runners were going by with high tech head lamps and flashlights. Here they were, climbing with one flash light. When they reached the aid station, the workers and runners all clapped and cheered as they thought my parents were DOING THE RACE! I thought that was hilarious. My parents are 77 and 76. And honestly, the energy it takes to crew an ultra is immense. Here they were, having a blast doing it. My dad describes the scene as a "happy asylum". I got a kick out of that description because he is so right. You have the craziest people on earth who are so kind, encouraging and polite. They are also in the throws of physical misery and exhaustion WHILE being kind, encouraging and polite. It really is no mystery to me why so many are beginning to discover the world of ultra running. The atmosphere at the races is just awesome.
I love that I have these two people as an example of who I want to be like when I get older. My mother was still having babies in her 40s and many years after the youngest is gone, married and mothering her own children, they are off crewing a grueling and difficult race on little sleep. Their description of the experience showed nothing but pure joy and pride for their son, who completed the race. I was very lucky to be born to these people.
Prayers for Greg, Sarah and me greatly appreciated!
Anyway, as I voiced my concerns over the temps, sweet Erin tried to dismiss my worries, while Suttan said, "I would be worried too. I would not like that." Now while most people would have looked at her like "How could you say that to this head case??", I so appreciated her validating my concerns and making not feel crazy to be worried because yes, temperatures CAN and DO affect performance. Do I really think they will? No. I think I will do well. But I loved, LOVED that she said that to me. She was still very positive and encouraging. So thanks, Suttan :)
Of course I am nervous. I have toed the line in a quest for a BQ in many races past. I have felt very ready at some of those races. The same thing will happen tomorrow. I will start the race, confident I can get the goal. I am planning a slightly different strategy, however, and I have the utmost wonderful pacer and race partners to run with. My running friend, Greg, will also be running. He is as strong and ready as they come and I cannot wait to race with these two. Sarah will be pacing us. She will also be wearing my Garmin. So I will have no clue what pace I am running throughout the race. She has strict instructions to pace easily in the beginning…. in fact, I hope our first splits reflect a slightly slower time than what I need. The course runs along the river in Athens and is out and back. We run down river on the way back and my hope is to take it easy in the first half and run a nice negative split. I run best that way in training, especially during long runs. So we are mixing thing up and hopefully, we come in right where we want. Keeping my head in check will be the biggest challenge. All the "snap out of it!" advice is not helpful in the least. I am who I am. Yes I have an element of control over which thoughts I choose to let linger in my head, but I also cannot "trick" myself. I'm smarter than that :)
And so, as always, I turn to God, who lovingly whispers, "I got it. Don't worry." I have absolutely no qualms about praying for my race. I don't think it's selfish or unimportant to ask for help with something that is important to me. God LOVES when we rely on Him for everything. I know that if it does not counter His will for me or if there is not, yet again, some lesson to be taken from failure, all will be well. I know this. I also know that if I can't trust God with the little things in my life (and trust me, add perspective in and this is little), then I will never be able to trust Him with the big stuff. So go ahead, pray for your races. Pray for strength, pray for endurance, pray for mental fortitude. God is thrilled when you do and He always shows up! Because spirituality and running are so intertwined with me, I think that the day I am racing is eerily relevant. Tomorrow is Palm Sunday. The gospel will reflect the betrayal and handing over of Jesus to be beaten and ultimately crucified. Certainly reflecting on the significance of tomorrow's gospel will make a difference for me in how I choose to run.
I'm still nervous, though :)
All nerves aside, I have had a great taper. I am well rested and carbed up, though my body is a bit off kilter from all the carbs. I have slept in most days this week… yesterday until 6:30!!! That is huge for me. I must not be THAT nervous if I'm sleeping well. I got to have lunch with my parents yesterday, which was awesome. It isn't too often I get to just sit with them and chat about all sorts of things. Last weekend, they were the main crew (along with my 12 year old nephew) for my brother Jack's 150 mile ultra marathon (sigh). My dad told me the story of how at one point, he and my mom trekked up a muddy, steep hill en route to an aid station. It was around midnight and they had only a small flash light to guide their way. All these runners were going by with high tech head lamps and flashlights. Here they were, climbing with one flash light. When they reached the aid station, the workers and runners all clapped and cheered as they thought my parents were DOING THE RACE! I thought that was hilarious. My parents are 77 and 76. And honestly, the energy it takes to crew an ultra is immense. Here they were, having a blast doing it. My dad describes the scene as a "happy asylum". I got a kick out of that description because he is so right. You have the craziest people on earth who are so kind, encouraging and polite. They are also in the throws of physical misery and exhaustion WHILE being kind, encouraging and polite. It really is no mystery to me why so many are beginning to discover the world of ultra running. The atmosphere at the races is just awesome.
I love that I have these two people as an example of who I want to be like when I get older. My mother was still having babies in her 40s and many years after the youngest is gone, married and mothering her own children, they are off crewing a grueling and difficult race on little sleep. Their description of the experience showed nothing but pure joy and pride for their son, who completed the race. I was very lucky to be born to these people.
Prayers for Greg, Sarah and me greatly appreciated!
Friday, March 7, 2014
Looking for Angels
We have begun the season of Lent with gusto in our house. Weeks ago, I tried to think of something we could do as a family to bring us closer to God and to get my children to understand the meaning of TRUE sacrifice. As I pondered over what that should be, in that way corner of my brain, the one I try to shut down so often because it tells me to do things I don't WANT to do, I thought, "Give up television." I know families who do this and I always admire them. One year (and she may be doing it again), my sister, Maria, and her two children, became "unplugged". She LOVED it and so did they. And these are kids that love their electronic gadgets! They completely gave up TV, iPads, iPods and so on. Ellie was 8 and Mitch was 6. They are still pretty malleable at that age.
Ever try that on a fifteen year old?
I continued to search for an idea. One that I could live with. The idea of giving up TV was very tempting since I don't really watch it (much). But damn, it sure is a good baby sitter now and again and did I REALLY want to do that to myself? Sounds like someone else needed to learn the meaning of true sacrifice as well. Buckle up, mama.
One night at dinner, the kids were all fighting and, well, let's just say dinner was not peaceful. Nothing new... I mean this is usually 60% of our evening meal experience. In a fit of rage, I began to rattle off my usual banter of how rotten they were being and that things were going to change, dammit! Before I could think clearly, the words just spilled out of my mouth, never, ever able to be taken back. *"By the way, kids, get ready. We are giving up all electronics after dinner for Lent. All of us!"
*(does not include mom needing to email or answer texts or dad taking patient calls... or mom occasionally playing Flappy Bird to beat dad's high score).
Ok, so the Flappy Bird thing is a joke (kind of). But the point is, I said it. They heard it. It was decided and I could not take it back.
An eruption of moans and groans by each of the kids ensued. Will immediately told me this would be impossible as much of his homework is done electronically. Ok, Will, don't be an idiot. Of course homework is not included and you know what I mean! No more watching DVR'd episodes of The Mentalist. No more Full House (thank GOD) for Lucy and Emma and no more youtube videos of Elvis or funny cat pranks for Jack. No more 10 minutes of Food Network for me as I drifted off to sleep at 9:00 pm (that's fine, I could give that up) and no more History Channel for John. Nope. We were powering down.
So what were we going to do? Of course, I wanted to pray more as a family. We've been doing it (most nights, we ain't perfect) and the kids no longer roll their eyes so that's a plus. But perhaps we could do something more. Many nights we have sports practices and by the time everyone is home and showered, it is bedtime anyway. I figured those would be the "easy" nights, although I didn't know what I would do with Lucy, who often afforded me about an hour of peace by watching back to back episodes of her favorite show. Girl needs a mute button when she is hanging out with me... WOW... verbal child!
Weeks ago, I was talking to my cousin Elizabeth. Elizabeth lives in Oregon, is a runner (she's cool in my book) and just delivered baby number 5 on Tuesday. As a side note, the day she went in to be induced, she started her day with a run with friends and a light stretching class. Might I say she texted me a picture of herself in her Team Mitch tank that day and I wanted to dislike her. She appears to be hiding a basketball under her top. No hips, no big butt, no fat arms. Nope... thin, beautiful and glowing. She ran throughout the entire pregnancy! Can't hate her if I tried. She is awesome. ANYWAY... Elizabeth had read a book called "Running For My Life". It is the autobiography of Lopez Lamong, an Olympic runner. She was telling me about it and said she had read it to her kids, the oldest of which is 9. They loved it. Lopez was a Sudanese child refugee and became an Olympic star. He attributes all of his success to God, who lovingly saw him through many horrific years of his life.
I was intrigued.
Last night, our first "real" night of no sports and no electronics, started out with John coming home from work saying his stomach felt "off". Given that both boys each spent a night vomiting every hour, then sleeping the next day, I figured there was a high probability that John was on his way. I was correct. Poor John spent the evening/night in bed, and ultimately throwing up many times.
The kids and I had dinner and then attacked homework. I never help Jack with math homework. He hates it and I hate it. And sorry, 5th grade math homework is above my head these days. So John helps him. But last night, that wasn't going to happen. I approached Will, who has no school today (I swear, those St. X kids always seem to be off!) and he willingly took Jack into the dining room and did his homework with him. He was kind to him too. I heard him TEACHING him and explaining things to him. Angel #1.
Emma cleaned up the kitchen (don't be too impressed. It was her turn and she complained, but hey, she did it), while Lucy and I attacked the unfolded laundry. When that was done, we read her book for school. Earlier in the evening, Emma needed help with English. Now that is where I can help... usually. Last night's edition was 17 sentences of figuring out when to use forms of "lay" and "lie". Well, who knew there were so many options to choose from... we had "lain, laid, lay, lie, lied... and blah, blah, blah...I didn't have time to review the rules, so a call to Grandma Corey was in order! Ten minutes later, we had our sentences done and mom was reminded of the rules of when to use each form. Emma was happy. I was happy. Angel #2 (thank you, mom!).
With dishes done, Jack's math done, Lucy's homework done, the dog fed and put to bed and laundry folded and put upstairs, it was time to say our prayers. I had decided after I talked to Elizabeth that day that I'd like to read that book. I also decided I'd like my kids to hear his story. John downloaded the book on the iPad Kindle (usage of this doesn't count since I am just reading a book). I called the kids into the living room, was met with a few exasperated sighs, and began reading. I told them I would read one chapter a night when we were all home. They figured they could suffer through just ONE chapter. I read chapter one and none of them moved. They did not budge. Not even Emma. "Should I read another chapter?" "Yes." It was unanimous. I cannot tell you the last time we had a vote that ended unanimously in this house. That never, EVER happens.
The story begins with Lopez being kidnapped from his mothers arms by rebel soldiers. He vividly recalls his parents chasing the truck he was thrown into and screaming and crying. I had to pause a few times as I read to compose myself. He was six years old.
The story continues on about where he was taken (don't want to give it away in case you want to read it!) and what happened to him. The horror was unbelievable. What captivated me was this tiny boy's recognition of God sending 3 angels (older boys, also kidnapped, that took care of him as best they could) to help him.
And suddenly I got it. And the kids got it. No matter WHAT we are going through in life or how awful and horrible our situation, God is caring for us. Always. How many times do I lament over a situation or hardship, never seeing what is right in front of me? How could this boy of six see it in the worst of situations?
I also realized last night, the angels right in my home (and on the phone) helping me. Not even knowing they were being such. I could have stamped around and been upset at all I had to do on my own with John sick (never considering what my sister goes though as a single mother every single night). I could have, but for some reason, I didn't. Perhaps a heavenly angel on my shoulder? Who knows because I can be good at the occasional pity party.
We finished after two chapters. I know the kids are looking forward to hearing the whole story and I am looking forward to reading it to them. I HIGHLY recommend it even after just two chapters. It was now 9:00 and time for bed. "Hey Lucy, I think I'm going to sleep in your bed tonight since daddy is sick." Lucy's eyes lit up at the prospect of having me all to herself in her twin bed (UGH!). "Mom, Lucy can sleep with me so you can have the bed to yourself." I had to make sure that was really Emma, though it sure sounded like her. Yep, sure enough, it was. Angel #3.
Thank you, God. For everything.
Ever try that on a fifteen year old?
I continued to search for an idea. One that I could live with. The idea of giving up TV was very tempting since I don't really watch it (much). But damn, it sure is a good baby sitter now and again and did I REALLY want to do that to myself? Sounds like someone else needed to learn the meaning of true sacrifice as well. Buckle up, mama.
One night at dinner, the kids were all fighting and, well, let's just say dinner was not peaceful. Nothing new... I mean this is usually 60% of our evening meal experience. In a fit of rage, I began to rattle off my usual banter of how rotten they were being and that things were going to change, dammit! Before I could think clearly, the words just spilled out of my mouth, never, ever able to be taken back. *"By the way, kids, get ready. We are giving up all electronics after dinner for Lent. All of us!"
*(does not include mom needing to email or answer texts or dad taking patient calls... or mom occasionally playing Flappy Bird to beat dad's high score).
Ok, so the Flappy Bird thing is a joke (kind of). But the point is, I said it. They heard it. It was decided and I could not take it back.
An eruption of moans and groans by each of the kids ensued. Will immediately told me this would be impossible as much of his homework is done electronically. Ok, Will, don't be an idiot. Of course homework is not included and you know what I mean! No more watching DVR'd episodes of The Mentalist. No more Full House (thank GOD) for Lucy and Emma and no more youtube videos of Elvis or funny cat pranks for Jack. No more 10 minutes of Food Network for me as I drifted off to sleep at 9:00 pm (that's fine, I could give that up) and no more History Channel for John. Nope. We were powering down.
So what were we going to do? Of course, I wanted to pray more as a family. We've been doing it (most nights, we ain't perfect) and the kids no longer roll their eyes so that's a plus. But perhaps we could do something more. Many nights we have sports practices and by the time everyone is home and showered, it is bedtime anyway. I figured those would be the "easy" nights, although I didn't know what I would do with Lucy, who often afforded me about an hour of peace by watching back to back episodes of her favorite show. Girl needs a mute button when she is hanging out with me... WOW... verbal child!
Weeks ago, I was talking to my cousin Elizabeth. Elizabeth lives in Oregon, is a runner (she's cool in my book) and just delivered baby number 5 on Tuesday. As a side note, the day she went in to be induced, she started her day with a run with friends and a light stretching class. Might I say she texted me a picture of herself in her Team Mitch tank that day and I wanted to dislike her. She appears to be hiding a basketball under her top. No hips, no big butt, no fat arms. Nope... thin, beautiful and glowing. She ran throughout the entire pregnancy! Can't hate her if I tried. She is awesome. ANYWAY... Elizabeth had read a book called "Running For My Life". It is the autobiography of Lopez Lamong, an Olympic runner. She was telling me about it and said she had read it to her kids, the oldest of which is 9. They loved it. Lopez was a Sudanese child refugee and became an Olympic star. He attributes all of his success to God, who lovingly saw him through many horrific years of his life.
I was intrigued.
Last night, our first "real" night of no sports and no electronics, started out with John coming home from work saying his stomach felt "off". Given that both boys each spent a night vomiting every hour, then sleeping the next day, I figured there was a high probability that John was on his way. I was correct. Poor John spent the evening/night in bed, and ultimately throwing up many times.
The kids and I had dinner and then attacked homework. I never help Jack with math homework. He hates it and I hate it. And sorry, 5th grade math homework is above my head these days. So John helps him. But last night, that wasn't going to happen. I approached Will, who has no school today (I swear, those St. X kids always seem to be off!) and he willingly took Jack into the dining room and did his homework with him. He was kind to him too. I heard him TEACHING him and explaining things to him. Angel #1.
Emma cleaned up the kitchen (don't be too impressed. It was her turn and she complained, but hey, she did it), while Lucy and I attacked the unfolded laundry. When that was done, we read her book for school. Earlier in the evening, Emma needed help with English. Now that is where I can help... usually. Last night's edition was 17 sentences of figuring out when to use forms of "lay" and "lie". Well, who knew there were so many options to choose from... we had "lain, laid, lay, lie, lied... and blah, blah, blah...I didn't have time to review the rules, so a call to Grandma Corey was in order! Ten minutes later, we had our sentences done and mom was reminded of the rules of when to use each form. Emma was happy. I was happy. Angel #2 (thank you, mom!).
With dishes done, Jack's math done, Lucy's homework done, the dog fed and put to bed and laundry folded and put upstairs, it was time to say our prayers. I had decided after I talked to Elizabeth that day that I'd like to read that book. I also decided I'd like my kids to hear his story. John downloaded the book on the iPad Kindle (usage of this doesn't count since I am just reading a book). I called the kids into the living room, was met with a few exasperated sighs, and began reading. I told them I would read one chapter a night when we were all home. They figured they could suffer through just ONE chapter. I read chapter one and none of them moved. They did not budge. Not even Emma. "Should I read another chapter?" "Yes." It was unanimous. I cannot tell you the last time we had a vote that ended unanimously in this house. That never, EVER happens.
The story begins with Lopez being kidnapped from his mothers arms by rebel soldiers. He vividly recalls his parents chasing the truck he was thrown into and screaming and crying. I had to pause a few times as I read to compose myself. He was six years old.
The story continues on about where he was taken (don't want to give it away in case you want to read it!) and what happened to him. The horror was unbelievable. What captivated me was this tiny boy's recognition of God sending 3 angels (older boys, also kidnapped, that took care of him as best they could) to help him.
And suddenly I got it. And the kids got it. No matter WHAT we are going through in life or how awful and horrible our situation, God is caring for us. Always. How many times do I lament over a situation or hardship, never seeing what is right in front of me? How could this boy of six see it in the worst of situations?
I also realized last night, the angels right in my home (and on the phone) helping me. Not even knowing they were being such. I could have stamped around and been upset at all I had to do on my own with John sick (never considering what my sister goes though as a single mother every single night). I could have, but for some reason, I didn't. Perhaps a heavenly angel on my shoulder? Who knows because I can be good at the occasional pity party.
We finished after two chapters. I know the kids are looking forward to hearing the whole story and I am looking forward to reading it to them. I HIGHLY recommend it even after just two chapters. It was now 9:00 and time for bed. "Hey Lucy, I think I'm going to sleep in your bed tonight since daddy is sick." Lucy's eyes lit up at the prospect of having me all to herself in her twin bed (UGH!). "Mom, Lucy can sleep with me so you can have the bed to yourself." I had to make sure that was really Emma, though it sure sounded like her. Yep, sure enough, it was. Angel #3.
Thank you, God. For everything.
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Owning It
I have to apologize to all the drivers who fit the previous post's description. I'm not apologizing because I think it is ok to be rude. I am apologizing because the anger I wrote about is two sided. I realized something about myself a few years ago. When everyone on planet earth seems to be annoying me at any given time, the real problem is always me.
Case and point... Yesterday I was meeting some runners from my group at 5:15 to do track repeats. It was the first time we have been able to get on the track since we began training 8 weeks ago. Up until yesterday, we had been doing them on a .5 mile strip of road that is perfect for running but can at times, be traffic heavy. We were happy to finally not have to worry about hitting our paces AND avoid getting hit, as well as have a clear track to run on. The trouble started the second I stepped foot outside. I was greeted with a strong gust of wind and flurries in my face. "You have got to be FREAKING kidding me!" I wanted to turn back around and walk in the house. I tried to ignore the flying snow surrounding my car and the whipping flags as I drove to the track. I had gotten there a bit early because I had laundry that needed to be finished before the kids got up. Stepping out of my car, I began a slow jog to the track. I had to put my head down to avoid the face full of wind and snow that wouldn't let up. I was getting more ticked off by the minute. I knew that the workout would be challenging enough without the wind. I now wondered if I would hit pace at all. I began my warm up around the track. Shortly after I finished my warm up laps, Barbara arrived. I immediately greeted her with a snarky comment about not getting a break, even once, with this weather. She agreed and as the others began to arrive, I again, was quick to point out just how much it sucked. I later realized that a good coach, who assigned the workout to begin with, would have been encouraging, not demoralizing. Most of the girls that showed up are not a fan of running that early to begin with. I am the creator of my own problems.
Yesterday's fit was not unusual for me lately. Last week, I deactivated my Facebook account. I intend to reactivate it once I can turn my bad attitude around. The problem was that everyone was beginning to bother me, yet with the easy access, I couldn't just stay off. Social media and the need to know what is going on with other people many times a day has its grip on me, though I hate admitting it. The best cure for me is to simply cut it out of my life for awhile...stone cold turkey! Again, I quickly acknowledged that "I" am the problem. Not everyone else. It always amazes me what I discover about myself through honest self reflection. It isn't easy to point a finger at myself, but often times, it is necessary. It is the only way I will ever become better...at everything. I am finding it is normal for me to go through these "grumpy spells" now and again. I thank God for my husband and kids, who are often quick to recognize it even before I do. Lucy is especially sensitive and will say, "Mommy, I know something is wrong with you because you are yelling a lot." Usually she says it right after I have yelled about something and I often reply with, "Mommy wouldn't have to yell so much if you guys would just do what I said the first time!!!" Usually I say that while yelling :). Deep down, I know my baby is on to me. And it forces me to want to turn it around right then.
I'm blaming it on the nasty winter this time. It is driving me crazy (and all of the country). But I am also owning up to how I respond to it. The sun will shine again and the snow will soon be gone.
Soldier on!
Case and point... Yesterday I was meeting some runners from my group at 5:15 to do track repeats. It was the first time we have been able to get on the track since we began training 8 weeks ago. Up until yesterday, we had been doing them on a .5 mile strip of road that is perfect for running but can at times, be traffic heavy. We were happy to finally not have to worry about hitting our paces AND avoid getting hit, as well as have a clear track to run on. The trouble started the second I stepped foot outside. I was greeted with a strong gust of wind and flurries in my face. "You have got to be FREAKING kidding me!" I wanted to turn back around and walk in the house. I tried to ignore the flying snow surrounding my car and the whipping flags as I drove to the track. I had gotten there a bit early because I had laundry that needed to be finished before the kids got up. Stepping out of my car, I began a slow jog to the track. I had to put my head down to avoid the face full of wind and snow that wouldn't let up. I was getting more ticked off by the minute. I knew that the workout would be challenging enough without the wind. I now wondered if I would hit pace at all. I began my warm up around the track. Shortly after I finished my warm up laps, Barbara arrived. I immediately greeted her with a snarky comment about not getting a break, even once, with this weather. She agreed and as the others began to arrive, I again, was quick to point out just how much it sucked. I later realized that a good coach, who assigned the workout to begin with, would have been encouraging, not demoralizing. Most of the girls that showed up are not a fan of running that early to begin with. I am the creator of my own problems.
Yesterday's fit was not unusual for me lately. Last week, I deactivated my Facebook account. I intend to reactivate it once I can turn my bad attitude around. The problem was that everyone was beginning to bother me, yet with the easy access, I couldn't just stay off. Social media and the need to know what is going on with other people many times a day has its grip on me, though I hate admitting it. The best cure for me is to simply cut it out of my life for awhile...stone cold turkey! Again, I quickly acknowledged that "I" am the problem. Not everyone else. It always amazes me what I discover about myself through honest self reflection. It isn't easy to point a finger at myself, but often times, it is necessary. It is the only way I will ever become better...at everything. I am finding it is normal for me to go through these "grumpy spells" now and again. I thank God for my husband and kids, who are often quick to recognize it even before I do. Lucy is especially sensitive and will say, "Mommy, I know something is wrong with you because you are yelling a lot." Usually she says it right after I have yelled about something and I often reply with, "Mommy wouldn't have to yell so much if you guys would just do what I said the first time!!!" Usually I say that while yelling :). Deep down, I know my baby is on to me. And it forces me to want to turn it around right then.
I'm blaming it on the nasty winter this time. It is driving me crazy (and all of the country). But I am also owning up to how I respond to it. The sun will shine again and the snow will soon be gone.
Soldier on!
Thursday, February 13, 2014
Angry
There has been something that has been bugging me lately that I just have to vent about. I usually don't take my "issues" and blog about them (publicly anyway), but this one, I must.
WHAT IN THE HELL IS UP WITH ALL THE ANGRY, RUNNER HATIN' DRIVERS OUT THERE?
This winter has been the worst ever. I don't know if this ridiculously cold and snowy mid western winter has just gone and made everyone annoyed and mean, but seriously, bad attitudes are going to kill a runner or two in my town if this keeps up. For example, I can safely say that on 75% of the runs I have done lately, I have had to jump onto the snow banked curb to avoid getting hit. This would be on a four lane road with the lane next to the driver completely free of other cars. Oh and don't think I am not reflective and visible. Because I am. I not only run facing traffic (the correct way for a runner), I also wear a headlamp that drivers can see well enough in advance to think, "Oh hey, there's a runner up ahead. How wonderful and dedicated for that person to be out at 5:30 am, making sure not to take away family time and getting it done before the kids get up. I will get over in the next lane as to not even come close to him/her. Sure hope he/she has a wonderful day. Say, I'd like to try that running sometime!" By the way the cars whiz by, skimming the outside of my jacket, I'm thinking the thought is more like this, "Who is that asshole up ahead in this sub zero degree weather? What a dumbass! Doesn't he/she know that running in weather like this is bad for your lungs/muscles/bones/heart? I think I'm gonna toss my cigarette out at watch him/her cringe. And I ain't moving. This road is for cars, not runners. Oh and I hate my job and am really pissed that I have to go to work this early."
To that person, I'd like to say I pray for you. I'd love to say that. But usually I tell you to f*%k off under my breath and thank you for nearly killing me. I am not doing anything illegal by being out there. I am preserving my sanity and often times figuring out life's problems and saying some prayers... well, until that little distraction comes along.
I have a long way to go. Pray for me, please. And be kind to runners.
WHAT IN THE HELL IS UP WITH ALL THE ANGRY, RUNNER HATIN' DRIVERS OUT THERE?
This winter has been the worst ever. I don't know if this ridiculously cold and snowy mid western winter has just gone and made everyone annoyed and mean, but seriously, bad attitudes are going to kill a runner or two in my town if this keeps up. For example, I can safely say that on 75% of the runs I have done lately, I have had to jump onto the snow banked curb to avoid getting hit. This would be on a four lane road with the lane next to the driver completely free of other cars. Oh and don't think I am not reflective and visible. Because I am. I not only run facing traffic (the correct way for a runner), I also wear a headlamp that drivers can see well enough in advance to think, "Oh hey, there's a runner up ahead. How wonderful and dedicated for that person to be out at 5:30 am, making sure not to take away family time and getting it done before the kids get up. I will get over in the next lane as to not even come close to him/her. Sure hope he/she has a wonderful day. Say, I'd like to try that running sometime!" By the way the cars whiz by, skimming the outside of my jacket, I'm thinking the thought is more like this, "Who is that asshole up ahead in this sub zero degree weather? What a dumbass! Doesn't he/she know that running in weather like this is bad for your lungs/muscles/bones/heart? I think I'm gonna toss my cigarette out at watch him/her cringe. And I ain't moving. This road is for cars, not runners. Oh and I hate my job and am really pissed that I have to go to work this early."
To that person, I'd like to say I pray for you. I'd love to say that. But usually I tell you to f*%k off under my breath and thank you for nearly killing me. I am not doing anything illegal by being out there. I am preserving my sanity and often times figuring out life's problems and saying some prayers... well, until that little distraction comes along.
I have a long way to go. Pray for me, please. And be kind to runners.
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
Athens Marathon and Life's Other Stuff
The memory is still very fresh... mile 23 of the Indianapolis Marathon last October. In the throws of marathon misery, I vowed I would never race another marathon for as long as I lived. I meant it, too. Every single miserable, awful step, came the promise to myself I was done. Coupled with the fear that my brother Jack, pacing the 4 hour group, was quickly gaining on me, I was in a bad place mentally. The only thing that kept me from walking the rest of the way was the thought of his cheerful, optimistic voice right behind me, passing me and then in front of me. I was nearly 15 minutes behind my goal time as it was. I was in an all too familiar place, one that I hated and one that years ago had drained my love of running. It wasn't until I experienced the world of ultra running that my passion was re-ignited. Give me great distances, food, company and walk breaks... give me all day and I can get the job done. Give me a time goal, a clock and a bit of pressure... and I crumble.
So what is the logical next step? In the the lives of logical people, it is to simply shift all together to running slowly and joyfully. Logical runners in this place run marathons only as training runs... with crowd support, lots of company, chipper conversation and medals at the end. Every long run is a party, not a job or another workout checked off the training list. Well, the good Lord left out the logic gene when he created me. I have registered to run the Athens, Ohio marathon on April 13th. My intent is to race it for a sub 3:45.
Let me back up a bit. I am currently coaching seven spring marathoners. Five of those runners are training to run the Boston Marathon, one is running the Flying Pig as her first marathon, and one is training to run right beside me once again and pace me during the Athens Marathon. I think it may be all the Boston talk. I mean, I run with gals who are training for Boston. The conversations about the race keeps the depression over training conditions at bay (sub zero temps, snow and ice... blah!). Every time Boston is brought up, I get excited. Talk of who still needs plane tickets, who is rooming with whom and where to eat the night before is fun hear and be part of. It is also dangerous. Or maybe it's good. I haven't decided yet. I begin to think, "Now why the hell am I not doing this?" Ok, yes, I know the answer of, "You haven't qualified! Last year, while they were running pace runs, track workouts, hill repeats and tempo runs, you were taking your sweet time on the trail, enjoying nature, eating and ultra training. And before that, you raced and didn't get the time. That's why!" I think those things and I know that ultra training was a good reason not to have raced a qualifying race. However, it kills me to know I have it in me but that I have decided to stop trying because for 6-8 miles of racing a marathon I am hating life. That is no good reason to give up on something I CAN do. None at all. I would never want one of my children to cease reaching for dream but for a few short days, weeks, months or even years of difficulty. Especially when it is an attainable goal should they JUST KEEP TRYING. My kids are very aware of my Boston quest. How could they not be? When phrases like "carb loading", "Don't eat that. It's mom's long run fuel", "I told Mrs. Post that I know what pacing means" and "all we have to eat in the house are these energy gels...", are part of the daily household chatter, I realize they are aware of so much. They are aware of hard work, failure, more hard work, more failure, detours, changing course and getting back on track. Someday, they will see what came from all of it. Success.
Now what the heck with Sarah? How many times is she going to put herself through my miserable racing state? I'm guessing as many times as it takes to drag my ass to Boston. I didn't ask her to do it. Not only does she want a reason to keep her endurance base up, but she WANTS to do it. She WANTS to endure when I completely lose my cool and start being a complete bitch right around mile 18. She WANTS to challenge me and risk getting punched when she tells me to pick it up as I begin to fade. Actually, no, that is not what she wants. What she really wants is to be there when it all comes together. She doesn't want to be at home, tracking me on her phone or computer. In a nutshell, she never loses faith that this will be the race that I achieve a dream whose road has taken me down some unbelievable twists and turns as well as some life altering moments. She knows it's a matter of time. I know it's a matter of time. That is why we both keep doing what we do. I told her last week that Athens was the LAST time I was going to race a marathon. She knows that is such bullshit even before I do. If I get a BQ, I'll then want to run a PR sometime. If you give a moose a muffin, ya know?
The person that endures the most, though, is John. Oh sweet John! He actually lives with this. I think when I came home from Indy declaring that I was done racing, he responded something like, "Ok, or at least until the next time you decide to race." I am most definitely this boy's ticket to Heaven. It takes a really special person to put up with my kind of crazy on a daily basis. It actually has become his normal. He would be very worried about me if I did not change my mind... constantly. John is "training" to run the Flying Pig marathon. It is 3 weeks after Athens and my goal is to run it with my childhood friend, Nicole, and her husband, Jerry. This will be their first marathon and I cannot wait! She is having an awesome training cycle and feels good. John is also going to run this with us. I put training in quotation marks in regard to John because he always does his own special combination of training. It goes like this... run 5 miles as your longest run from October to January. Then, accompany your wife and her friends on a 14 mile long run. On the way home, talk about how your calf was really iffy and that it is a good thing we did not go any farther. Also, make sure you never stretch, roll or ice and for God sakes, do not fuel right. Take several weeks off for some sort of calf or foot ailment. On race day, run a terrific race and have a good time doing it. That's how he rolls. It is annoying and funny and so HIM!
And so we all train on... trying to be creative through the snow, ice and crazy wind. Our lives keep changing, but our group remains constant. Our goals change, but running together does not. Greg, Jen and Cheryl keep vowing to stop doing marathons and yet... here they are, training for marathons. Sondra keeps saying she hates speed work and is moving to ultras, yet Sondra is always kicking our assess and running the fastest in our pace group during workouts, all the while talking comfortably. Sarah keeps saying she has no goals and doesn't want to commit to anything, yet her Athens registration was complete before I blinked. Erin, new to marathoning, is forever doubtful of her ability, yet her race times reflect a fierce competitor and athlete. Suttan hates ice like no one's business and has the stamina and grit to withstand long treadmill runs when the majority of us would rather skip the workout than run on a treadmill. Kim hasn't committed to anything except to burn off a week's worth of hefty calorie consumption. Barbara soaks it all in, analyzes us and I am certain, deems us all as crazy (she's the sports psychologist in our group).
God continues to bless me and I continue to strive to thank Him. In the throws of the daily grind and mundane tasks of everyday, I sometimes get into the pattern of focusing on all that sucks. But my kids keep growing, my husband keeps loving me and I keep running with awesome people. My parents and in-laws are healthy and my siblings are a short drive or phone call away. In other words, all that really matters in life is good at this moment. For that, I am so grateful.
So what is the logical next step? In the the lives of logical people, it is to simply shift all together to running slowly and joyfully. Logical runners in this place run marathons only as training runs... with crowd support, lots of company, chipper conversation and medals at the end. Every long run is a party, not a job or another workout checked off the training list. Well, the good Lord left out the logic gene when he created me. I have registered to run the Athens, Ohio marathon on April 13th. My intent is to race it for a sub 3:45.
Let me back up a bit. I am currently coaching seven spring marathoners. Five of those runners are training to run the Boston Marathon, one is running the Flying Pig as her first marathon, and one is training to run right beside me once again and pace me during the Athens Marathon. I think it may be all the Boston talk. I mean, I run with gals who are training for Boston. The conversations about the race keeps the depression over training conditions at bay (sub zero temps, snow and ice... blah!). Every time Boston is brought up, I get excited. Talk of who still needs plane tickets, who is rooming with whom and where to eat the night before is fun hear and be part of. It is also dangerous. Or maybe it's good. I haven't decided yet. I begin to think, "Now why the hell am I not doing this?" Ok, yes, I know the answer of, "You haven't qualified! Last year, while they were running pace runs, track workouts, hill repeats and tempo runs, you were taking your sweet time on the trail, enjoying nature, eating and ultra training. And before that, you raced and didn't get the time. That's why!" I think those things and I know that ultra training was a good reason not to have raced a qualifying race. However, it kills me to know I have it in me but that I have decided to stop trying because for 6-8 miles of racing a marathon I am hating life. That is no good reason to give up on something I CAN do. None at all. I would never want one of my children to cease reaching for dream but for a few short days, weeks, months or even years of difficulty. Especially when it is an attainable goal should they JUST KEEP TRYING. My kids are very aware of my Boston quest. How could they not be? When phrases like "carb loading", "Don't eat that. It's mom's long run fuel", "I told Mrs. Post that I know what pacing means" and "all we have to eat in the house are these energy gels...", are part of the daily household chatter, I realize they are aware of so much. They are aware of hard work, failure, more hard work, more failure, detours, changing course and getting back on track. Someday, they will see what came from all of it. Success.
Now what the heck with Sarah? How many times is she going to put herself through my miserable racing state? I'm guessing as many times as it takes to drag my ass to Boston. I didn't ask her to do it. Not only does she want a reason to keep her endurance base up, but she WANTS to do it. She WANTS to endure when I completely lose my cool and start being a complete bitch right around mile 18. She WANTS to challenge me and risk getting punched when she tells me to pick it up as I begin to fade. Actually, no, that is not what she wants. What she really wants is to be there when it all comes together. She doesn't want to be at home, tracking me on her phone or computer. In a nutshell, she never loses faith that this will be the race that I achieve a dream whose road has taken me down some unbelievable twists and turns as well as some life altering moments. She knows it's a matter of time. I know it's a matter of time. That is why we both keep doing what we do. I told her last week that Athens was the LAST time I was going to race a marathon. She knows that is such bullshit even before I do. If I get a BQ, I'll then want to run a PR sometime. If you give a moose a muffin, ya know?
The person that endures the most, though, is John. Oh sweet John! He actually lives with this. I think when I came home from Indy declaring that I was done racing, he responded something like, "Ok, or at least until the next time you decide to race." I am most definitely this boy's ticket to Heaven. It takes a really special person to put up with my kind of crazy on a daily basis. It actually has become his normal. He would be very worried about me if I did not change my mind... constantly. John is "training" to run the Flying Pig marathon. It is 3 weeks after Athens and my goal is to run it with my childhood friend, Nicole, and her husband, Jerry. This will be their first marathon and I cannot wait! She is having an awesome training cycle and feels good. John is also going to run this with us. I put training in quotation marks in regard to John because he always does his own special combination of training. It goes like this... run 5 miles as your longest run from October to January. Then, accompany your wife and her friends on a 14 mile long run. On the way home, talk about how your calf was really iffy and that it is a good thing we did not go any farther. Also, make sure you never stretch, roll or ice and for God sakes, do not fuel right. Take several weeks off for some sort of calf or foot ailment. On race day, run a terrific race and have a good time doing it. That's how he rolls. It is annoying and funny and so HIM!
And so we all train on... trying to be creative through the snow, ice and crazy wind. Our lives keep changing, but our group remains constant. Our goals change, but running together does not. Greg, Jen and Cheryl keep vowing to stop doing marathons and yet... here they are, training for marathons. Sondra keeps saying she hates speed work and is moving to ultras, yet Sondra is always kicking our assess and running the fastest in our pace group during workouts, all the while talking comfortably. Sarah keeps saying she has no goals and doesn't want to commit to anything, yet her Athens registration was complete before I blinked. Erin, new to marathoning, is forever doubtful of her ability, yet her race times reflect a fierce competitor and athlete. Suttan hates ice like no one's business and has the stamina and grit to withstand long treadmill runs when the majority of us would rather skip the workout than run on a treadmill. Kim hasn't committed to anything except to burn off a week's worth of hefty calorie consumption. Barbara soaks it all in, analyzes us and I am certain, deems us all as crazy (she's the sports psychologist in our group).
God continues to bless me and I continue to strive to thank Him. In the throws of the daily grind and mundane tasks of everyday, I sometimes get into the pattern of focusing on all that sucks. But my kids keep growing, my husband keeps loving me and I keep running with awesome people. My parents and in-laws are healthy and my siblings are a short drive or phone call away. In other words, all that really matters in life is good at this moment. For that, I am so grateful.
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