The Reluctant Runner

a defining moment

2011-04-25T22:17:00.000-06:00

Well, its official. Today, I finally believe I am a runner. I had a blah afternoon and all I want to do is run. RUN. Run until it makes sense again. It's been nine months since my last post. Nine months since I thought I won't ever have to blog again. I won't ever have to run another step unless I want to...I guess. Nine months of running half heartedly on and off the treadmill, in running class, and on the trail by my house when I was really motivated. Nine months of listening to more experienced more speedy runners talk about shin splints, tempo runs, running up mountains and their new shoes. Nine months of wondering why I was still giving it a go four to five days a week. Now I know why. I like it even though sometimes I hate it. It is part of who I am. I own it. I own my 11 minute mile. I own my weird gait. I own my time spent. And, it helps me with days like today. Helps me remember who I am and how I got here. And YES, I will complain in my head about a run in the snow or rain or whatever...and that's okay...doesn't mean I'm not a runner. Just means I'm pissed it might impair the run but I'm doing it anyway because it's what I do now. And, by the way, I'm officially done with saying, "I'm not good at it" because I'm better off running my pace, with my gait, with my goal, with my purpose than I was sitting on that couch.

The Finish and The Beginning

2010-07-16T09:55:00.007-06:00

Hannah: “Hi!”
Me: (gasping) “Hey sweetie! Nice sign!”
Hannah: “We’ve been waiting, I’m so excited…it’s SO hot out here!”
Me: “Well…let’s go! Slow though…okay?”
Hannah: “Oh yeah…of course! This is so great! I woke up at 4:30 and couldn’t get back to sleep just thinking about it!”

It was still dark but I wasn’t cold. Maybe the nerves took over early but I basically felt numb, just moving through the well rehearsed motions I needed to accomplish that morning. I quietly left the house going over my checklist in my head…charged IPOD, pins for the bib number, sunscreen, water, Luna bar, gear bag, cell phone, what else? Anything? No…I got it all…don’t panic. My plan was to get in the car by 3:20 am to make it to downtown by 3:50 am. I needed to catch the only shuttle available to the “walker” category (or slower than mud beginner runner that shouldn’t be doing a marathon for her first race and what the heck was she thinking anyway category) by 4:00 am for the early start. On the bus were all walks of life with one thing in common. They were all ages, sizes, represented all levels of experience and came from a bunch of different places. The woman I sat next to was from Indiana. She was a “Marathon Maniac.” I know this because it was announced in wide red and black font on a brighter than the sun yellow shirt she wore. She explained she was part of a group of people that have a goal to run a marathon in each state. Fifty. Fifty marathons. She looked fifty. Wow. Again, I find myself unable to relate. What am I doing here?

We arrived (still in the dark) at the bank in the small town west of Missoula. We were the first bus to arrive. When we got off the bus I took in the scene. Must have been 2 or 3 dozen porta potties lined up along the fence. There were at least 20 volunteers chattering excitedly about how to distribute the water, where to put the coffee and gear bag piles. The seasoned runners were already well into their routines that made them look like experts. Some were pulling out shiny metallic wraps given only to finishers in big races to keep them warm proving they had been here before. I decided to find the most remote place to sit next to the last porta potty in the line. I needed to ignore all signs that I was out of my element. I needed…to pee. So my spot was perfect.

They called all the walkers to the start. I guess that’s me I said to myself although I had planned on running most the course. I found the start. Before I knew it I was running (still in the dark) and I couldn’t believe were I was…twenty six point two miles from the end. Most of the pack that started with me were walkers…fast walkers. I was impressed. I broke apart and went with the few that were running. I found myself already feeling tired at mile 2...crap. Then I found a friend. She was using me to pace herself. This gave me a false confidence that I actually was being recognized by another as actually having a good pace. What I didn’t know is she was intentionally going slow and what she didn’t know is my pace only has two speeds…slow and stop. She stayed with me awhile than broke free in some amazing walking stride that boggles my mind. I said to myself, “DO NOT COMPARE,” and quickly put it out of my mind. Reminded myself I was out here for Hannah…didn’t matter a speed walker could serve me a dust pie. I kept with my strategy of running a mile and walking a minute. The sun came up, horses ran along the fence, aid station volunteers were smiling and I started to feel pretty awesome.

It wasn’t too long before I was swallowed up by the elite athletes that started at 6 am. They came in waves. With each wave I felt admiration for their ability and inspiration to move a bit more. At the mid way mark I ran my fastest 13.1 miles to date. I was happy. Then I hit the biggest part of the only hill in the course. The hill that I skipped over in training. The hill I only knew through reputation. So…I walked that hill. And although I wished I could have run it I tried my best to enjoy my walk and take in the scene. There were people cheering and encouraging me the whole way. A guy in a wig with a cowbell held a sign that said “Doubters Can Suck It." He gave me a good chuckle and I found myself accepting I would have to run and walk the next 11 miles. As I ran down the hill I was happy to see the aid station. It was 8:20 am and I had to get to the next aid station by 9 am to meet my sister-in-law that volunteered to run a few miles with me (thanks Kay!). I thought as long as I can get there than I can make it. As I turned to go, I felt a hand on my shoulder. It took me a minute to realize it was my husband. He was supposed to have run the half marathon and be at the finish line by now. But instead he chose to wait and run my last 11 miles with me. He brought a backpack with water, bars, GU, band aids, you name it…he brought it. He was smiling. He was thrilled he actually surprised me. I was both relieved and reenergized. I think that was one of the best moments of our marriage. He said he wondered if I’d want to kick him or hug him. I couldn’t have been happier to see him.

By the time we picked up my sister-in-law, I was trying to figure out how much I could walk versus run and still complete this thing on time. I told Hannah to meet me at 11:30 and I didn’t want to let her down. It was great to have my own personal support team encouraging me along the way. When I could run, we ran. When I wanted to walk, they slowed down. They gave me water, timed our running stretches, cracked jokes and worried over my electrolytes. I didn’t have to do much but keep one foot in front of the other. At mile 23, we picked up one of my closest friends...Lisa Hayhurst. She is 8 months pregnant and a bad ass runner (when not pregnant of course). She was beaming. Lisa's presence reminded me to enjoy the moment. At that point I just wanted to keep a good mindset for the last part. We walked that mile and I was happy to be nearing the finish. At the last aid station I saw one of the group homes with a banner for the Run 4 Kids team. It gave me a good reminder why I was out here. I started to worry about getting to the finish. A fellow runner, suspecting I was in a bit of pain, offered me some Advil. I took it. We laughed. I was again overwhelmed by the support of strangers. As we passed mile 24 I started to run again. This time I was moving faster. I needed to get to Hannah. I wanted to see her face. I left the others at the last turn and as I made the corner I saw her. She was standing there with a sign and started to yell for me. I ran closer and we quickly hugged.

Hannah: “Hi!” (She wore a big smile and was holding a Youth Homes Run 4 Kids Team sign at the final turn before the finish line on the Higgins Bridge)
Me: (gasping) “Hey sweetie! Nice sign!”
Hannah: “We’ve been waiting, I’m so excited…it’s SO hot out here!”
Me: “Well…let’s go! Slow though…okay?”
Hannah: “Oh yeah…of course! This is so great! I woke up at 4:30 and couldn’t get back to sleep just thinking about it!”
Me: “Okay…tell me a story to distract me from running this last part”
Hannah: (without hesitation) “Well…Jessica got a new dog! IT’S SO CUTE! Its name is Finley and (she goes on for a minute or two) Was that a good story?”
Me: “Yes, perfect! Look…we’re almost there!”
Hannah: “Yeah!”
Me: “Hey Hannah”
Hannah: “Yeah?”
Me: “I did this just for you”
Hannah: “I know and I’m really grateful”
Me: “You don’t have to be grateful kiddo…just keep it in your heart”
Hannah: “I can’t believe you ran that far…for me.”
Me: “A lot of people would…you’re more than worth it”

A few moments later, I put our medal around her neck. We took pictures and laughed about how I was walking. We hugged goodbye and promised to stay in touch. Running the marathon was just a blip for me when compared to the work she has had to do and will need to continue. She is 14. She has no parents to speak of. She has been abused in every way possible. She has more than one hill to climb and Youth Homes is her support team. When I started this in January, I had no idea I’d land here. I had no concept of even running a mile. So the fact that I have done a marathon is hard for me to wrap my brain around but more incredible than that is what it has left me with…a new lifestyle, a healthier perspective for my kids, a belief in my ability to overcome obstacles and a lost girl who counts me as someone who cares. My experience has gone deeper than a check off the bucket list.

The next day, my husband told me he thinks he might sign up for the marathon next year. He explained now that he’s seen me do it, he thinks he can. The funny thing is he has always been an athlete…born knowing what to do with whatever ball was put into his hands. He never considered the marathon because he worried about how long it would take. On marathon day, he was moved by the support of the volunteers and was inspired by all the runners out there to cross the finish line in whatever time it took. Not worrying about beating someone else but on their personal journey. That’s what makes a marathon special…it’s all about your own journey.

Thanks for reading…I hope it has inspired something for someone.

A Gummie Bear Offering

2010-06-21T14:22:00.012-06:00

Accepting help isn’t always easy. Accepting your own limitations sometimes seems downright impossible. Yesterday, as I faced a 20 mile training run, I knew I would be the slowest, the most inexperienced and most likely to be the last one to arrive at the finish. And I was right. I just had no idea how right I was.

I started with the group around 9 in the morning in Frenchtown (the site of the starting line for the Marathon in 3 weeks). After talking with a few different expert runners, I decided to take on a new approach of running a mile and walking a minute and then running a mile and so on. This was supposed to save my legs for later in the run…and it did. And the bonus is I feel like I can walk today without being crumbled over like a 97 year old woman. The only downfall is it really slowed me down (which I wasn’t sure was possible). I know stopping to walk was helpful to keep me injury free and reserve my energy but I wasn’t prepared for just how slow I would run in between these stops. I usually run about 13 minute miles (which is very slow but great for me who thought I’d be running a marathon when pigs took to the skies) but with this new approach I found I was taking 14 to even 15 minutes to get done with a mile. That’s starting to look close to a walker pace. However, I was feeling like I was doing okay and somewhat enjoying the challenge of the twenty mile run.

Then, at mile 8 (site of the second aid station) I realized I was, in deed, last. But to make it a bit worse, I began to realize the pack of fellow training group runners that I thought I’d be out there with were at least 30 minutes ahead of me. The volunteers at the aid station were extremely nice, offering me the full variety of drink products and various snacks they had and then it happened. Her eyes met mine and she gave me the sympathetic mother look. My AH HA moment struck hard. Oh…I am SO last. She crooked her head and said, “Are you sure you’re doing ok? I mean, we could drive you back.” Oh crap. Is it THAT bad? I wondered to myself. Then I heard myself say, “No no…I’m fine, just slow is all…just started running in January,” I said defending my pace. “I’ll be fine, thank you,” I muttered and I scurried off down the road.

At mile 10, I noticed a truck on the side of the road. I slowed to an even slower walk and removed my headphones. The man walking towards me was obviously a runner…dressed in the uniform and smiling. He timidly asked, “Are you with the running group?” I replied with a half hearted laugh, “yeah” knowing it didn’t look so obvious. He explained he injured himself and couldn’t continue and was just checking to see if anyone else needed a ride back. Someone like me…someone so far behind the others…so sad. I again was tempted but found myself again saying, “no no, I’m fine…just slow…no injuries so I’m just doing fine…but thank you.” I watched him drive away. I wondered…just how far back am I? Should I have gone with him? I continued on…running for 14 minutes walking for one, then walking for just one more minute…then maybe through a song. BUT still going. If I can just get to the next aid station I thought…then I can ask how far back I am…then I can know I can get to the next aid station…then just four more miles after that…I can do this. I start running again…I can do this. I can do…all the sudden a mini-van pulls to the side of the road. It’s full of kids and runners. A young boy runs towards me smiling and holding out a bowl of gummie bears… “Here,” he says, “have some of THESE!” His mom asks, “Are you doing okay? Do you want a ride?” HOLY CRAP…the universe is practically smacking me in the face….TAKE SOME HELP! I look at her wearily and ask, “Where is the next aid station?” She replies, “Well, we just packed up and heard you were out here and wanted to get you some water and check to see if you needed anything,” her voice trails off…she smiles. I give in. I ask her to take me to the next aid station and then I’ll run the rest of the way back to the car.

I get in…sit by the boy with the gummie bears and listen to him explain why he will never be a runner. “I’m hot and I didn’t even run today…YOU were on your 11th mile…almost to 12!” he says excitedly. “I don’t ever want to eat that GU stuff…my mom says it’s made out of boogers!” he says with big eyes. “Tastes like boogers sweetie” she corrects from the front of the van. “Oh, yeah…tastes like boogers,” he says shaking his head. I want to kiss him. I love this kid. As we drive the four miles to the next aid station we pick up another runner with a knee problem and I start to notice the others in the van. The runner that is dizzy and dehydrated. The one that just can’t move anymore and me. I look out the window and see some of my friends struggling up the only hill in the course…it looks brutal. I can’t imagine my survival of it in just a mere three weeks. A wet blanket of guilt comes over me…Why am I in this damn mini-van? I wonder to myself. I need to get out! NOW! I ask when we can pull over but I don’t want them to catch my panic…don’t want to seem ungrateful. Most likely the other aid station wouldn’t have been there for me if I didn’t catch the ride. They would have had to wait an extra hour just for me! The thought of that makes my stomach turn. They probably would have packed up and drove up to me on the course and offered to take me back the car. OR (my mind is racing now) maybe they would have just left entirely…I would have been out on the road alone…no water…no aid…just the sun and me for the next 8 miles. Horrible fate. I can see the headlines now…Local woman stranded and unconscious by fake cow on Clements street…authorities say she refused multiple offers of aid. So I needed the ride I reason in my head. I tell myself I won’t on marathon day because they will have more aid stations and keep the them up for seven hours...and I will start earlier in the morning and I will have thousands of people around me and I WON'T BE THE LAST ONE (oh, I hope I won't). I know I’ll be alright that day...right? I finally can get out of the van.

I see my friend that just ran the hill and she looks great...beaming with pride because she just killed the hill behind her. I immediately feel guilty to be ahead of some of the others. I sheepishly say to her, "I should be an hour behind you." She reassures me the van ride was okay, "look at how far you've come," she says as she turns to run.

I start my final four miles. I run most of it. Forget my run to walk ratio. Up ahead I saw a runner lying on the ground. More around me were walking now. Most looked overwhelmed in the heat. I knew they had all ran that hill that I skipped. I run harder to try to make up for it. I walk only when I absolutely have to and only then. I stop for a car to cross the street…look to my left and there it is…I see Hannah’s house. One of the group homes of Youth Homes Inc. and the one where she lives. I almost start crying. I CHEATED I think to myself. I got in that mini-van. Hannah doesn’t get to cheat in her “marathon” when it gets hard. I start running again. I’m so mad at myself. I get lost in my negative spiral of self – doubt. I won’t be able to do this...what was I thinking…I’m the only one out here that has just started running this year…a MARATHON…what the hell…what am I trying to PROVE anyway? I AM nuts.

Then I remembered that little boy in the back of the mini-van…the one that said “I’m hot and tired and I didn’t even run like YOU did.” The little boy that somehow knew I was trying to do something really hard and I needed, God forbid, a little help…and that was OKAY. I then thought of the mini-van in a different way. Maybe it’s a good reminder to help me realize it’s okay to accept some help along the way. Of course it sounds easier than it is done…for all of us from time to time. For Hannah , she is challenged with learning to accept her own situation while avoiding the comparisons to others, learning to accept the care she receives from staff and believing it is genuine and, of course, the area that’s tough for me too…learning to acknowledge limitations, being proud of the accomplishments to date and accepting help while working to improve.

He couldn't have been more than six years old. He knew I was last. He said smiling, “Here…have as many gummie bears as you want" as if to say "you deserve it.”

A special thanks to Coach Anders, The Runner's Edge staff, Run Wild Missoula and all the volunteers that man those aid stations...couldn't do it without you!

An update on Hannah from Youth Homes staff:

Hannah just graduated from the 8th grade last Monday, and what an event! She was excited, but also sad to say goodbye to her friends who will be going to a different high school next year. The whole day turned into "Hannah’s day", and for the first time in months she wanted everyone here involved with her promotion. She asked her primary staff (Jessica) to help her get ready for the "big event"! (When you are an 8th grade middle school girl, it is a BIG DEAL) So, they had a fashion show to find the perfect dress, pick out jewelry, and styled her hair. It was the first time that Hannah really let Jessica fill the role of a family member, and she let it show that it was important to her. She not only wanted her to be part of preparing, but also to be at her promotion for support, as well as the shoulder to cry on after saying goodbye to her friends. This was incredibly significant because Hannah’s hasn’t shown that her relationships with staff are important to her. Lately, she has been putting more effort into pulling away and claiming that we don’t really care about her. It seems that these past claims weren’t how she actually felt, and it was an uplifting experience to see that she may be beginning to allow herself to have meaningful relationships with us.

With the marathon coming up, and having Kim run for Hannah, Hannah also seems to see that she is also supported by the community. After talking with her about it several times, she made it clear it made her feel good to know that the community cares for kids in group homes. She is shocked that someone she doesn’t know cares about her enough to run in her honor. Hannah said, "To have someone run a marathon in my honor means that the person wants to do something for you and wants to represent you and get to know you. When someone runs for me, I feel happy and like someone knows I'm here on this earth." These are those little moments of sunshine that she can sit back and contemplate about when things are tough.

Therapy has been rough. Real rough. Hannah continues to compare herself to the other girls in the home, and is extremely jealous about the attention and support one girl gets from her mother in particular. Hannah has been rejecting of staff care, support, direction, nurturing, etc. She has been bottling up her emotions, and then letting them come out sideways, through frustrated tears and frantic behavioral and emotional outbursts...yet through all this, Hannah bounces back up the next day to "try again", only to be met once again by her own conflicted emotional moments. Anxious about school coming to a close and spending more time at Talbot for the summer, getting used to a new resident, and working on hard issues in therapy, all have Hannah feeling a bit overwhelmed at times. But, just like marathon training...its one step at a time!!

Pain is Relative

2010-06-07T22:40:00.007-06:00

Yesterday, I ran to the next town and back. That is a sentence I never thought I’d say, or type for that matter, in my lifetime. I chose to run my 18 miles from Florence, MT to Lolo, MT and back for strategic bathroom placement that my training group’s route was lacking. And while the well placed gas station on my route was, in fact, necessary…I did miss all the runners in the group around me to keep me going. The first nine miles to the gas station went really well. To reward myself, I stopped in the gas station and lingered there for a good 15 minute break. Mistake. The next nine miles were absolutely hellish. I thought well, this should be not so bad…after all…I’m running back home. Home. A place with wonderful cushy couches, cold clean well water that I can drink by the gallons and access to a plate full of chips and salsa and a promise of a milkshake. Home is only nine miles away I said to myself.

Then on mile…I don’t really remember, maybe 12 or 13…it started. Pain. Now…I know from my own experience, what people tell me and my grandfather that pain is truly relative. I’m sure you know this truth as well. It’s not hard to figure out that my pain in my feet and knees and hips and well…most of my muscles from the waist down is only painful to me and at the same time not so unique. Other runners feel similar and relative pains of their own. We can empathize or sympathize, I never know which one to use in this context...but the point is…we don’t feel it ourselves…we can only maybe imagine it.

I’ve known this since I was young and chose to spend my summer days in a small town in Pennsylvania with my Dad’s father and my Mom’s mother. On hot nights, I slept on my Grandmother’s screened in porch and spent the mornings with her and her friends learning how to properly cheat at cards. In the evenings, my Grandfather would come by and pick me up for dinner. Then we’d go for a drive to grab an ice cream cone and catch a baseball game on the radio. Those drives seemed to last forever…he’d quiz me on what direction we were going and the importance of the communication between the catcher and the pitcher…maybe talk about the admiration for a well hit frozen rope down the third baseline and then we would eventually make our way back to the nursing home where my Grandmother lived her final days. I didn’t know it then but those drives were long for a reason. You see…my Grandfather was in his relative pain. When we arrived at the home he would bring her the “not too thick but not too thin” chocolate milkshake with one scoop of malt that she liked best. She would greet us with a smile but also a question wondering where we “had gotten too.” She loved getting that shake, she loved seeing a familiar face but she hated that nursing home and she told him about it every night. I would slip into the hall and wait. And my Grandmother would plead with my Grandfather to take her home. Somehow…he would calm her…and manage to leave her there and still wink and smile at me in the hallway to let me know it was all okay. Then we’d drive back to his house; turn on the last innings…me curled up on what he called “the davenport” and him in his armchair…with the sounds of the game putting us both to sleep. I’d usually have to wake him and he’d take me back to my Mom's mother's house on the other side of town.

What I never thought about until yesterday on that long run is that pain is relative really means pain can be lonely. I’m pretty sure my run went terribly wrong in the end because I couldn’t commiserate…even with just a roll of the eyes to another runner to suggest, “Man, this is hard but worth it.” I was out there on my own. While this is not really a huge problem or shouldn’t be for a runner…for me right now (novice and naïve) I need those other runners around me. I know this as much as I know my Grandfather, that seemed to make everything okay at all times, was actually lonely in his pain and found my company (even as a 11 year old girl that probably acted bored and, at times, ungrateful) to be a comfort. I also know this to be true for Hannah. With no parents (birth, adoptive or foster) to claim as hers…she is in her relative and lonely pain. I know we can all try to imagine what this might feel like but I also know this pain is uniquely hers. And I also know she feels alone in it and needs the Youth Homes (and our community) to be her comfort.

So pain is relative...and lonely. And seems to wax and wane in its ability to affect you according to your readiness for it. I’m not sure I would say bracing yourself for pain makes you feel it less…actually; I think I’d say almost the opposite. Bracing yourself pretty much guarantees it will hurt more. You know it’s coming so you wince at the thought of it and roll up in a ball up and just wait. But if you experience it…face it every day and let it happen…maybe you can make your way through it…maybe you can find someone to lean on and then in the end…come out stronger for it.

Dodge Ball

2010-06-01T09:47:00.006-06:00

Last year, at the this time, I was pregnant with my third child and weighed sixty some pounds heavier than I am today. I tend to pack on the pounds with pregnancies with some kind of mythical happenstance that defies any reason or explanation. When I’m pregnant, if I just look in the direction of a carbohydrate I swell like the blueberry gum girl in Willy Wonka’s factory. Needless to say, with each pregnancy I worried a bit about ever again seeing my ankles in an acceptable circumference in relation to the rest of my body. Even though this worry was very real…especially with this last pregnancy due to my ever increasing age and decreasing metabolism…I still avoided regular exercise. That was the case, until last January, when I found more than losing the baby weight to be a good motivator to start something new. I found motivation in a girl named Hannah at the Youth Homes.

But since I’ve leaped blindly into doing the full marathon instead of the half, I’ve started to really wonder what else is behind this decision of mine. Was it just the runner’s high influencing me to up my goal as I finished 13 miles a couple of weeks ago…just some kind of bolt of endorphins that lead me down this path? The answer is…I really don’t know. I just did it. I took a leap of faith that I can actually manage to cross the finish line of the full before they tear it down. I’m still not totally clear on my motives. I guess…life sometimes feels like a game of dodge ball and you gotta decide if you want to hang out in the back avoiding the inevitable or step to the front and take on the bigger, meaner and faster kid from Mrs. Appleyard’s class.

I know I truly want Hannah to know someone is willing to do something ridiculously hard for them to prove she is worth the effort. But I also know I’ll be proud of this insane accomplishment and grateful I can tell my kids that I did it even though I was really REALLY afraid I wouldn’t be able to finish. And…that just trying to do something scarey is more important than pride. That believing in your own hard work, finding your limits and attempting to push past them is what carries you along a path to being a better version of yourself. I don’t think these pursuits are necessary every day but once in awhile you need to jump into something you’re not so sure about to find out what you’re made of…right? Life gives us these challenges in some kind of natural rhythm completely relative to our needs…and that just mystifies me.

Still looking for running partners for miles 13 -25. If you are up for a mile or two…let me know.

Thank you Krista, Kay, Nate, Lisa, Hannah and staff for offering to run with me on the big day.

Couch to Marathon

2010-05-23T22:08:00.008-06:00

Today, I ran my very first half marathon distance for a training run. This feat is something I originally thought to be absolutely impossible. Back in January, running on my treadmill in the basement for five minute stretches at a time…I tried to envision running 13 miles and couldn’t even wrap my brain around it. So today, as I started out, I made a deal with myself. If I made it back downtown in three hours or less, I would do the next impossible thing I can think of…the FULL marathon. I made it downtown in three hours and four minutes. BUT since I stopped at three aid stations, took advantage of yet another miracle construction site porta potta and slowed to a walk with a friend for a quick stretch (best running buddy ever…you know who you are) I’ll call it good enough and go for the full distance. After all, I started this thing to do something against the odds…something that would be a metaphor for the hard and sometimes seemingly insurmountable work that each kid at the Youth Homes has in front of them. So…now that I’ve shown myself I can do the half…I need something a bit scarier…a bit more of an insurmountable task of my own (even though at mile 8 today, I really wondered how the next 5 in front of me would go).

Now…I’m not unaware that this will be a stretch for me (to say the least). Having gone from never running a mile (that I could remember) to attempting a full marathon for my first ever race that I will actually run…is, in fact, a bit nuts. In order to feel like I can ensure I'll see the finish line, I'm inviting family and friends to consider running a mile with me. So if you are so inclined…please let me know and I’ll figure out the details of where and when you should meet me on the course. Of course, the last mile has always been for Hannah so that one is saved for her if she’s willing.

And for those of you that have donated to this effort…I can’t thank you enough. But consider this…I’m doubling down…so will you? And if you haven’t yet had the chance to donate…please click on the firstgiving box o the right for an easy and secure online way to support the Youth Homes. To sweeten the deal…remember if you donate $10 or more you will be entered into the drawing for the painting “It Takes a Village.” (image is in the right column of the blog)

P.S. I am officially terrified.

A letter for Hannah

2010-05-18T14:27:00.007-06:00

Jessica of the Youth Homes staff writes this update about Hannah:

Hannah has now been with us for 4 months. Her behaviors have progressively become more dramatic, especially as she’s started to think about wanting contact with her biological family. It’s been difficult for her because our newest resident still has contact with her family, and is able to visit with them at least once a week. This seems to have opened an old wound for Hannah, and she’s having difficulty dealing with her emotions. As a way to help let these emotions out in a healthy way, Hannah’s therapist asked her to write letters to her mom and grandmother. The letters were supposed to be a way for Hannah to say what she has on her mind, but with no intention of sending them, this way she could say anything. The assignment was given the weekend of Mother’s Day, and because Hannah really seemed to benefit from writing these letters, I asked her to also make a card for her mom. Hannah wrote things she wanted to change from the past, something she hoped for the future, and one thing she wants her mom to know. The card showed loud and clear that Hannah wishes her mom wouldn’t have lost parental rights and that she hopes they will have contact in the future. The most uplifting part of the card was what Hannah wanted her mom to know. She wanted her mom to know that she has people who love and care about her and take care of her. This is a huge step in Hannah’s treatment, she is learning to trust and believe in the care she is receiving. Hopefully she really believes this, and this step will help move her forward. Maybe she is finding hope in trusting in her caregivers, and can see that she is worth feeling and accepting love.

Dear Hannah,

I’ve been running for about four months now…about the same amount of time you’ve been at the group home. I was excited to get started in the beginning. Although, at the time, I knew I had a colossal task ahead of me. I don’t know if I told you but I’ve never been much of an exerciser before. In fact, I never even ran a mile before I decided to run on the Youth Homes team in your honor. And I know it was because of you and getting to meet you that I kept with it. Now, even though it’s still really REALLY hard to run some days, I know I can do it. I ran 12 miles last week and I’m almost at my goal of running the half marathon. And even though I know I can do it now…I still struggle and even though I still struggle, I cannot tell you how much it means to me that I have had this opportunity to do something small for you. My biggest hope for doing this is that you can know that people care about you even if they haven’t had the lucky chance to meet you. In fact, lots of people in Missoula support the staff and the Youth Homes with the hope that you and the other kids at the Youth Homes will not feel alone but instead cared for and loved. I also hope we can meet again sometime soon. You run too fast for me so maybe we can just grab a snack sometime and talk about Twilight or whatever crazy book your reading now. In the meantime, I want you to know every time I run I think of you and send you good wishes and hope you can join me on the last mile of the half marathon in July. Talk to you soon.

Your friend,

Kim

Training Not So "Smart"

2010-05-18T14:25:00.012-06:00

Well, it was bound to happen. People always were telling me to be “smart” with my training. I would then always nod at them knowingly…like I actually knew what they meant. I never gave it much thought before. When you don’t run, you just start moving and hope to God you get to the end of the workout or distance or time allotment in one piece. No watches or Garmin whatevers or fancy heart monitors or GU…just you and your new shoes. So when I started to notice my time and actually care that it was slower than I thought it should be (which is hilarious to me) I started to be “not so smart” in my training.

Last week when I ran the 12 miles…I have no idea what I was thinking. In fact, I wasn’t thinking.

I woke with the usually routine. Up with daybreak…guzzle water…pee. Put on the running clothes…pee. Eat some eggs…pee. Pat the dogs…kiss the kids…hug the husband…pee. And then to be safe…pee again. Now…I’m off…in the car…drive 25 minutes…find a parking space…find a sitting space by the bathroom…listen to the speaker in room full of other runners… pee….listen again…stand in line…pee. And…off again. Down the steps…out the door…fiddle with the IPOD…wonder if I peed enough…start to run.

Dodging lights at the crosswalks through downtown…go go go…no stopping…over the bridge…and down the bike path…ah…this is nice…everyone passing me…wow…even that person (who's gotta be atleast 70 years older than me) can pass me…oh well…I’m fine…I’m doing great, “oh Hey!...yes, a long one today…have a nice run!” I say to them as they go…watch them go… “Why don’t my legs move?” I wonder to myself. “Maybe I’m an ENDURANCE runner…you know…go long impressive distances rather than focusing only on silly speed… well…regardless…I’m doing great.” Going…going…going…ah…first aid station…drink…worry about pee…but must hydrate…must train smart…going again…mile 3.5…look at all of them turn around…they are probably being smart…but I feel great…going going going…going…ah…past the grocery store (maybe I could pee there) now…wow…we are really far from downtown…wonder when the 5 mile point is…going…going…..going…ah, here they come, “hello again…nice day…yes, great run…where is the turn?...oh another mile…great!” Then, I think to myself… “noooo problem…I’m in this for the long haul today” going going going…. “maybe I should just see how it feels to go even farther? Hmmm…but THEY didn’t do it…but I feel great…I’ll go just another mile...or two”…everyone is smiling…going going going going going… “how much longer IS this mile or two anyway” …going going going…holy crap…going going… “OH LOOK! The aid station!” I yell, “is that a mirage?” to another runner on the return…”NOPE,” they yell back…smiling and laughing…I’m so damn funny. I arrive. I gasp, “drive me home…I overcommitted”… “no, no...I’m just kidding…I’m GREAT” (think to myself…I’ll make it back…I’ll live anyway). Gulp water…suck down a packet of GU…gross. Overhear another runner admit she is hurting. Watch her stretch…hear others tell her to remember to train “smart.”

I turn and run…slower. Going…going…going…ah, there they go…the group with the injured runner…she is going and going and going…faster than me…yup…but I’m great! Going…damn it…why is that curb so HIGH? I did not know they made them higher in this part of town...fascinating. UGH. Oh no…are you kidding me? An extension cord…seriously, who has to plug in their car in this kind of weather…and now I have to run over it without tripping…seriously…it’s like…it’s…gasp…it’s the flippin’ Grand Canyon. Oh shit…another curb. Oh, but there’s a light…I should try to make the…oh well…it’s red. I MUST obey traffic laws and stop. Darn it. Wow…that was short…going going going…still going…what was I thinking? 12 miles…ridiculous! My feet are pounding the pavement so hard I think I'm gonna break the concrete. Stupid German/Welsh/whatever other heritage I am stoutness...my body wasn't made for running...think about something else…must organize the kids clothes…gotta get to Secret Seconds to donate that pile in the hallway…I bet I could waste a good 15 minutes just counting the number of brightly colored plastic items that go blinkity blink beep beep that the kids have absolutely no interest in anymore…nope…only took about 7 minutes…holy crap this is taking forever…is anyone even still out here? Oh crap…that’s great…I’m the LAST one.

Oh…look…is that really there…a PORTA POTTY? SOoooo awesome! Now I know I can make it! Wow…that guy is moving fast…no…no…NO…don’t do it! He did. He went into MY porta potty and you KNOW what he is doing in there. Anyway, I don’t care. I must go to the bathroom no matter what I find in there…I was right. Guys just don’t go to the porta potta to pee when they run that fast. Damn my bladder. Anyway, move on…put it out of you head…I’m nearing the first aid station again. Water…and a break. “Oh, yeah…it’s a great run…yes…I’m enjoying myself…oh, all downhill from here…great! Thanks and Happy Mother’s Day to you! Thank you!”

And I’m going…going…going…going…g o i n g…I’m great…just slowly losing my mind…on mile 11 and approaching hour three…I can make it…I must make it…Hannah’s mile Kim. What the *&%$#? I forgot about the hill at the end…nice bit o’ torture. Great…I’m great…going great. Going going…going up up up up…up…………….up. And…the bridge…finally back downtown…I’m stopping after the bridge. Put a fork in me. I cannot imagine another mile...or curb for that matter.

(this might just look like a slope to you but trust me...its a hill)

After all that you might imagine I was happy with my accomplishment. Well, I was…but getting back to the “smart” part was another story. The next whole week was hell because of my overreach. Let’s just say my body decided to make me painfully aware that I needed to remember I’m a beginner and one mile increases are more than enough. The next few runs I did were tough…and short…and humbling. I went from 12 miles to 2 miles and struggled physically and mentally. I wondered what went wrong and how I would be able to get back. Then just this last Sunday I ran 7 and managed okay. This week is still a struggle but in order to avoid burn out I’m just focusing on running for Hannah. Each run teaches me something and some lessons are harder than others. On a 4 mile run last week I decide I would walk the last mile…oddly enough…I looked over to my right to see the local high school’s baseball/softball field. In the chainlink fencing were the names of the girl’s team spelled out in white tissue paper. The first name I read was “Hannah’s” real name. Her pain is more than mine I thought…and I started to run again.

I’ve decided training “smart” has more to do with keeping your ego, self doubt, and true ability in check…keeping track of time, how much you rest, what you ate, how long you can go when you properly hydrate are all very important…but for me…for now…I just have to remember my running is for her

…and I know I’ll eventually cross the finish line.

63,360 Feet

2010-05-09T19:40:00.002-06:00

5,280 feet are in one mile. Yup. That's a lot.
Times that by 12 miles and you have 63,360 feet.
Divide that by 173 minutes and I discovered a totally and completely irrelavant fact that I ran 366.24 feet per minute today.

But that's the kinda math fun I've been having to reaffirm I ran a crap load of miles and maybe more importantly...I ran for very close to three hours today (counting the 4 stops due to my strong belief in taking full advantage of any aid stations I passed and the 1 porta potty that just was sitting there by a construction site that I at first thought was a very cruel mirage.)

Thanks to Aunt Sharon for sending the "pot at the end of the rainbow" picture! Very fitting!

Yes...you more experienced runners out there might be thinking...that's kinda slow and you would be right on. And I say, "I may have been out there longer than most (if not all) BUT it was with a smile on my face. Here's another number...14. 14 weeks ago I had a tough time running for 5 minutes in a row. I starting this thing with a run/walk program (Couch to 5K- loved it) and this morning...on Mother's Day ( a day I would normally be spending sleeping in and eating french toast in bed while my husband wrangled my 3 small children)...I ran 12.

TWELVE.
2 more than 10
1.1 less than 13.1
...and all the sudden one of my favorite numbers.

I having difficulty believing I did it but my muscles are doing a good job reminding me.

On the last mile today, I thought of Hannah. I think its now a habit I have on all my runs. The last mile is always for her. Today...Mother's Day...was even more bittersweet. I am over the moon I ran twelve but I also am wondering how tough her "training" was today and if she thought of the mother she never knew and the ones that have stepped in and out of her life since. I'm so grateful for my mother...my kids and my opportunity to run for Hannah.

12...wow. Who'da think 12...

Energy or Relaxation...or Deflation?

2010-05-05T22:37:00.001-06:00

“Roll onto your left side for energy or right for relaxation…” It’s a simple choice that marks the end of my yoga class. But for me today, this decision was like Sophie’s choice.

You know how sometimes you get down for no good reason. You just feel like the semi-deflated balloon bobbing in the corner of the room…over by the dust bunnies and crumbs. “So sad,” people will say…"it was a good balloon…gave it’s all.” After all, it began its romance with you like a big, round, bouncy, happy go lucky…no care in the world kinda charmer. Pure delight…at first. Then, it starts to lose its luster…it is inevitably the cause of the fight among the small people of the house that ends with a broken Lego Star Wars ship that took your husband the better part of the weekend to build. It scares the dog and causes a trip on the stairs…tears, frustration, broken precious things…that damn balloon. Then, people don’t even notice it anymore as it pathetically scoots across the floor to its final resting place and surrenders to its fate of a slow and painful shrinkage rather than a quick and last surprise giving pop.

So why do I feel so much like that shrunken and shriveled mess of a balloon in the corner? What is my problem? I really don’t have much if anything to complain about but somehow we all just drift to the corner from time to time. One of the lame reasons for my bum mood is something so small and utterly ridiculous that I hesitate to put it down in writing. But in the name of full disclosure about my effort to go from my no exercise mantra to healthy half marathoner in six months…here you go…

I was wrong….mistaken really or better yet…duped by my own fantasy that I was near the turn around that marked mile five on Monday’s run. I discovered this failure of sorts when I was in the car with my husband on the way up to Missoula yesterday. At first, I protested, “no, that’s the point you said I should turn around! I swear it must have been ten because it took me so damn long!” But then it hit me like a mean tween mood swing…swift, unexpected and unforgiving. I failed. I did NOT run my first ever double digit distance. I instead ran nine…funny how it seems so much less than da dada daa..TEN! Nine. I did see the NO TRESPASSING sign and I jumped to the conclusion that I had arrived at the correct NO TRESPASSING sign but alas…there are two identical looking signs on the long fencing that marks the boundaries of the farm on the side of the road outside of Florence, MT. Now I know. But somehow this simple mistake or overeager blunder makes me so very sad. So very defeated. So blue… left in the corner. Nine not TEN. Humph.

Now…I can hear you already. NINE is nothing to laugh at. It’s longer than a 10K, in fact, 9.3 miles is a 15K. Wholly bee’s knees…that’s a long way. AND it was on my own with no training group classmates or aid stations AND half was in a windy storm that would give Dorothy and Toto something to write home about. SOOooo what’s the big deal? Why so hard on myself for something so stupid. Normally, under some kind of similar circumstances that I’m too tired to come up with by comic example in this moment…I wouldn’t be so dramatically distraught. But mile ten meant something to me. Mile ten represented an unimaginable goal that came into focus. I could see it. I felt it. I believed I had done it. Now I’m faced with striving for it again…gearing myself up and getting it accomplished. So for Sunday’s training run with the group, I’ll strive for the almighty ten again and I’m sure I’ll get there.

In the meantime…back to my choice between “left for energy…right for relaxation.” While in yoga, I chose relaxation with the belief I would caffeine up later for energy. For the future, I fantasize I will somehow manage to get both...and then take a long luxurious 7 minute shower, cover myself in flannel and hit the hay. But for tonight, I will settle for the big belly laughs my son gave me while watching his music program, the cuddles with my daughter on the couch and listening to the baby’s soft breathing as I put him down to sleep. I think just writing this down helped me snap me out of my self-wallowing…and yes, perhaps the beer I had in honor of Cinco De Mayo helped a little too.

After all, tomorrow is another day I get to wake up and say, “I get to go on a run now”

… no matter the distance or time.

Ten Miles of Important People

2010-05-03T15:33:00.009-06:00

I wrote this in my head today as I discovered a new four letter word
...W I N D.

“Ten miles. Who am I kidding? This is ridiculous," I murmured out loud as I headed out into the 40 degree rainy weather and planned to tackle I93 halfway to the next town and back. My husband and I figured out the distance in the car. I knew then that the miles in the car looked a lot more doable than they would seem by foot. When you think about it a mile is a very long way. One mile seems to stretch on forever as you squint to make out the landmark tree or post with the blue paper poster or the whatever that marks the distance you want to achieve that run. For me today, it was the NO TRESPASSING sign on the fence next to the gravel pit…lovely image…along the highway five miles outside my little Montana town. And of course…back again to accomplish the ten mile run my little training log tells me I should be doing. 10 miles…looks so benign in the Times New Roman font of the log. But I know better. Ten miles will seem to stretch on and on before me and worse yet…the first five miles before that NO TRESPASSING sign, I will be tempted to turn around and run back home sooner because of some inevitable excuse that will seem monumental at the time. It could be a plethora of things…my baby needs me…its been too long…my husband has work to get done…my bladder will literally burst…I don’t want my sore muscles to prevent me from running the rest of the week…that blister is not healing…I have to clean the house (that one has merit…its been awhile). Anyway, you get the idea. So now you know my mindset as I murmured those words in my first steps into the weather and out my front door.

Mile one: This mile is always a tough one for me. I tend to notice my aches and pains, my breathing is erratic and I’m nervous about the lack of bathrooms. All the miles are still ahead. Towards the end of mile one I seem to always snap out of it. Positive thoughts win out and I start to feel ready for mile two. I start to realize I’ve gotten past the hardest part...the getting out the door. Mile one was for my parents...I think to myself. For my Dad…who was intense and always had high expectations for us growing up. He set standards with little words. He worked hard and often. He seemed to always be striving for excellence yet carried an ability to stop everything for a crisis. He was and is my example for diligence and compassion. Set a goal and move in that direction with the belief it will happen if you really give it your all. For my Mom…who has never sat down in all the years I have known her. She is in constant motion and seems to float from thing to thing. Mile one is when you work the kinks out. She seems to be the person in my life that always is a reminder I need to work on mine. She doesn’t remind me with her words…but watching her makes me look inward. Watching her and hoping to be more like her makes me appreciate her and how she has loved me…unconditionally with all my faults. Mile one is the full of hope for the future…its putting all you got into working through the doubt and getting on with it. Mile one is for my parents.

Mile two: Mile two is usually awesome. Today was no exception. I felt good, strong and I was into my music. I had energy and a belief I was unstoppable. Little reminders I needed to try to be consistent and keep a pace were present and noted. Mile two was for my close friends…mirrors of me…good and bad flaws exposed and examined and overanalyzed. Close girlfriends really identify you. They know your crap and choose you anyway. It’s kind of like family except they can walk away but rarely do. Mile two is a commitment full of energy and self-love. I’m out here…I’m doing it…I’m loving it. My close friends are good motivators to be better, good teachers about myself and my chance to be strong and supportive for other people. Mile two is all about best intentions. Much like good friends, it is also about the choices you make to better yourself.

Mile three: For my oldest son. Mile three reminds me I’m out here for him. He will want to know how many miles I ran and how fast. He will light up when I tell him I’m doing my absolute best and having a good time along the way. This lesson is so timely for him. He is 6. His world is just starting to open up. Much like mile three…he is just starting to open up and let loose. He is in the world outside our safe and happy home. He has his own identity at school with his friends, teacher, coaches, lunch ladies, cross walk guides, librarians and bus drivers. He has just started baseball. He LOVES it and…he stinks. It’s something to watch. Takes him a good ten to twenty times to swing and connect. He cannot catch a ball but as he reminds me…he has “one heck of an arm.” He slides into the plate with no threat of an out. He’s largest interest on the field is throwing handfuls of sand into the atmosphere and practicing tagging people out even when he doesn’t have the ball. His smile is big. He loves it. He is the best baseball player in the world. He is giving it his all. Mile three is for him.

Mile four: Mile four is a bit tougher. It’s starting to be a challenge. It’s testing me over and over and I’m starting to wonder when it will end. Mile four is for my four year old girl. The child who will not let me leave the house without a full blown dramatic showdown. Her strength and determination are formidable. She was my surprise baby and continues to amaze me each day of her young life. She is smart and cunning. She is beautiful and manipulating. She is sweet and tricky. Complicated. Mile four plays with my will. Mile four knows my buttons. Mile four will show me what I’m made of. Much like my girl who manages to take my breath away and make me beam with pride in one moment and terrify me in the next…mile four was something to accomplish.

Mile five: I’m almost halfway done. What a relief! I can actually see the turnaround point. Elation! What a breath of fresh air. I CAN do this. Mile five is for my baby. My ten month old who was a planned surprise. We were done at two and then like a feather tickling the back of my neck…the notion of him was born. He needed to come…we weren’t complete without him. Mile five was such a surprise but I planned to get here. I planned to see the NO TRESPASSING sign and turn around. I knew I could do it. I just needed to put one foot in front of the other. My five was all the further I needed to go. Mile five was for you…baby boy. Mile five was a joy to welcome.

Mile six: I didn’t realize until mile six that I had not just a little wind at my back up until this point but I had a full blown mountain storm behind me. I turned around to face it and it took my breath away. I needed mile six to be easy so that I could face the last half of my run home. Mile six had to be for my husband. The one person in the universe that knows me the best and loves me anyway. The person that I draw the most strength from and the person that helps me find my way. Mile six was shocking, hilarious and maddening. Mile six lifted me out of my running shoes and made me yell at the top of my lungs…”is that all you got.” Mile six rooted me in my belief that I can actually stay committed to this running thing and see it through. I could literally and figuratively face the biggest challenges and succeed. Mile six was for my greatest partner in life. I love you Levi.

Mile seven: I have two older sisters. Both very different from me and as different as night and day from each other. But what we have in common is a shared history and the fact that they are the two people I will know the longest in my lifetime. They are my original team. They…by nature…are my guides. One would rather sit in the middle of a swamp on a log than run ten miles…the other would love to remind me that she can run faster and further than me any day of the week. Neither of those truths matter but I can relate to both. What matters is that mile seven reminds me of who I am and what I’ve come from. It was just four months ago I would have laughed in your face if you told me I’d be running a half marathon this summer. Mile seven reminded me how far I have come. Mile seven is for them…my two big sisters.

Mile eight: About this time, I thought to myself, “you’ve come this far…stop worrying about your discomfort.” Mile eight was hard, but close to home. Mile eight challenged me to finish. Mile eight was a good practice in mental stamina and determination to do good by others. Mile eight is for my past and present coaches in my life. We all have them. If you think about it, you will come up with them when you start to think about who you think highly of…who might have shown you something professionally or personally that taught you something about yourself. They showed you how far you could stretch yourself. Those people you wanted to impress or do right by. Outside of you family and friends…those people you were accountable to. For me… one of these is my old boss Geoff…who taught me to trust my gut and never tire when chasing a dream. My running coach for the last month, Jo Ruby, who has showed me what never ending positive energy can reward you with. And for my first boss Judy, who taught me about loyalty and how it can go a long way.

Mile nine: Me. I am mile nine. I’m almost there but want to quit. I think maybe I’ll just walk through the rest of my small town to the only stoplight and call it good. But mile nine reminds me I will have myself to be accountable to. I will know my own effort failed me towards the end. I surprise myself again and keep running towards the Welcome to Florence sign that marks the last mile of the longest run I’ve ever done in my life. What a thrill. Mile nine was for me.

Mile ten: Of course mile ten was for Hannah who is living in the group home with a much harder time making a list of ten important people in her life. I think of her face in the picture she sent me. I think of her life from the time she was born struggling against the toxins in her little body through the abuse and pain of her early years to the latest years of rejection and isolation. She is just 14 and my ounce of discomfort is nothing compared to her pounds of pain. She is still standing…even smiling in her picture. She is laughing in my memory of our run together. She is strong in consideration of history but weakened by experience. She is endangered and to be held with care. Mile ten brings with it all the emotion of accomplishment but knowing I have so many more miles to go. Mile ten is for Hannah.

a little kick in the rear

2010-05-03T09:36:00.003-06:00

Back from quick weekend vacation with my friends...now facing the need to make up my long run. UGH....Rain and 40 degrees so I needed some inspiration to get me out the door. My friend had emailed me this article enclosed written by Olympic marathoner Joan Benoit over the weekend. I was moved to learn out of all her runs her fondest marathons are the ones that she does each year in her hometown to benefit local kids.....10 miles here I come. Wish me luck...I'm gonna need it!

Joan Benoit's article from active.com

Mile by Mile Half Marathon T-shirt from Zazzle.com

2010-04-27T14:22:00.013-06:00

http://www.zazzle.com/mile_by_mile_half_marathon_t_shirt-235570647485741204

Buy this HALF or FULL marathon t-shirt and proceeds go to Youth Homes Inc.! Free shipping ends tomorrow! Click on link to see closer image...caption says "one foot in front of the other"

Both the Half and the Full Marathon t-shirts are customizable to whatever t-shirt color, size or style you want that is available on the zazzle site. Make sure you click the customize button to change the font color (or font size or for that matter...add some personalization if you want) ANYWAY...if you pick a dark colored shirt you'll need to make sure the font color works so the words will show up! All proceeds of the t-shirt sales will go towards my fundrasing for the Youth Homes! Thank you Missoulian (for taking the picture) and Jennifer Sauer (for wearing such a cool shirt) that gave me the idea to steal from some other clever person that designed this concept for a marathon shirt...hope that doesn't get me in trouble...(buy em quick!)

Mile by Mile Marathon Shirt from Zazzle.com

2010-04-27T14:09:00.005-06:00

Mile by Mile Marathon Shirt from Zazzle.com

Click on the link above to buy this FULL marathon t-shirt and proceeds will go to YHI! Free shipping ends tomorrow!

One hour and forty three minutes...two blisters, a little blood, one public restroom and an unexpected desire for goo...

2010-04-18T18:30:00.008-06:00

Who would think I would develop such an admiration for non cotton socks, the sight of orange spray paint, or the invention of a little packet of goo? Today was a big day of discoveries. I discovered I actually would survive an eight mile run. I discovered the meaning of a good pair of running socks…not just ones that look the part. And I discovered I apparently lose my legs past mile seven.

Here’s how it went:

Mile one: Man…today is a beautiful day. I can’t think of better weather…the sky is blue…my mind is clear. I feel all better after that ridiculous flu. I am going to do eight miles…what a huge big beautiful day.

Ahhh yeah…there they go. I’m used to it now…runners passing me (on both sides). Look at them go. Go right ahead…I am at peace with pace. I embrace the 12 and ½ minute mile. I am in it for the long haul. I am the picture of consistency. I am steady. I am a force.

Mile two: Crap…I feel a bit of a side ache. Go AWAY! Remember to breath Kim...deep inhale and blow it out. Purse your lips. Do that coordinated step breathing thing...oh man...please please dont get bad enough that I have to start waving my arms in the air... NO aches. NO whammies. NO! Wow…I think I kicked it. I’m feeling a bit better. Oh look…the aid station. Beautiful little cups of water. How far is it? What’s that? Oh…2 ½ is all…oh…okay. Keep going to the orange spray painted 4? Okay. What wonderful lovely aid station people...it’s only another 1 ½ miles and I get to turn around. Not bad.

Mile three: You gotta be kidding…those must be the 13 milers…look how far ahead they are…why are they turning down THAT street? They can’t be the 8 milers. Well…just keep going. Just keep breathing. Just keep going...don't think about it...think about something else…I’m a rock star…that’s what people tell me. I rock. I do rock. Lets rock. I am now rocking. I’m on a stage. I’m playing guitar…I’m singing…I’m…oh, forget it…I’m running and it hurts. And it stinks. And I can’t believe I am not at mile four yet. Oh...here she comes…that woman that always catches me half way through ever time. OH…that means we are almost half way through…right??? Awesome! She's awesome. I LOVE her.

Mile four: THERE IT IS! That beautiful bright orange spray painted number 4. I LOVE the number 4. And I now turn around. YES! Oh wait…4 more miles...craaaaap. Get out of your head. You just ran four…you can do four more. You did six a few weeks ago. You’re on the downhill now. And we’re smiling…we’re running....ah...we're looking for a bathroom.

Mile five: Bathroom. Bathroom…gotta pee. GOT TO PEE. GEEZZZZZzzz…I went about a billion times before the run. I thought I did a good job balancing my need to hydrate with my need to NOT go to the bathroom on this ridiculously long run. Bathroom. Bathroom. Restaurant? No…too much trouble.

Mile six: There they are again…those wonderful people with the aid station. What’s that? No…no thanks…no more water…I’ve got to go…you know...go. Oh, right…the bathroom at the park. Great! Thanks…there it is….run to the bathroom. The very public…very well used…by apparently A LOT of little people…park bathroom. Ewww. Wipe. Wipe. And we’re bouncing as we’re cleaning….Ah hell…nevermind…just go!

Mile seven: There she went…the speed walker. She has run and walked this like a champ. She has come out of nowhere and seems just as fast as me and I’ve run the whole thing. She’s got some years on me but I can tell just by looking at her she has more mental stamina. She’s something. She’s swing her arms. She’s moving fast. She gained some ground because of my miniscule bladder. But…I can proudly say…I overtook her leaving the park. She apparently has no idea she is my competition. She seems not to notice. Well played my speed walking foe.

Mile eight: Where did they go? They were here a minute ago. Somehow...my legs have gone missing. I don’t know where they went…but I do know they disappeared and I now seem to just fall forward only to be jolted back into place by the feet that catch me. Oh, my feet. Don’t fail me now…I see the high school. MUST keep going…this must be what the goo is for...more umph. Oh, that’s nice…look at all the people in cars letting me go. I can tell by the look in their eyes they recognize I’m at the threshold of hell and not to be messed with. They kindly let me go even though they clearly will need to wait a longer time than anticipated as I carefully cross the street with the speed walker in tow. She will not prevail. I get passed by a herd of advanced runners that started atleast a half an hour after me and listen to them chat and laugh with ease. Could they atleast make it seem like a bit of a bother? Really. At the bridge now…almost there. On my way through downtown, I pass the smell of breakfast as people sit in the sun and enjoy the start of their day. Huff…cough…sigh…breathing...cursing…panting…I pass them. I can see it now. The finish. Speed walker is across the street and behind me by a block or two. I smoked her. I kick ass. I am a rock star…well, maybe a soft rocker Joni Mitchell type.

I ran eight.

Setbacks, Hellgate Canyon Carnage and Tylenol

2010-04-13T15:49:00.006-06:00

Apparently, according to historians, “the name Hellgate (for Hellgate Canyon) came from French trappers, who found carnage from warfare, including bones and bodies, in the canyon on the east edge of town.” (www.missoula.montana.com) Nowadays, Hellgate Canyon gets its wicked reputation from the bitter winds that whip through the passage and hit your skin in a way that actually makes you feel like you ordered the deluxe high buff package at the drive thru car wash. This was the site of the training run last Sunday. It also happened to be my first run back after a week off with the flu…oh the luck. So I quickly made the wise decision to go four miles instead of sticking to the training schedule for beginning full marathoners which would have been seven.

It was hard to make that decision. And that was a surprise to me. I’ve never been one to push myself in the case of exercise. It just hasn’t been my thing. So my new found inner voice that keeps me honest with this running gig was kinda disappointed. But I know my wiser and let’s say more seasoned voice of practicality and reason duly noted this disappointment but ultimately prevailed. I think it was best. After all, I would hate to bring the original connotation of the name Hellgate back into common usage. Yes…just four then. It won’t be hard. Should feel pretty easy…and then I went outside.

While adjusting my headphones my hat almost blew right off my head. First bad sign. Then, as I pointed my body in the direction of the assigned route…I actually think I heard the wind snicker as it attempted to blow me out of my shiny new running shoes. To make matters more interesting, the remnants of my flu symptoms were kicking into gear and the wad of Kleenex I decided I had desperately needed for this particular run blew out of my hands and down the sidewalk as if to announce to the world my amateur status (more seasoned runners don’t need Kleenex –see previous posts).

I won’t go into boring details but the rest of the run didn’t go much better. But, as my friend Eldena says, “I might not be fast but I’m a finisher.” I like it. I’ll use it. In fact, I did use it as I said it to myself over and over again during those four miles into Hellgate Canyon and back. So setbacks will happen and I’d be willing to bet I may have another one or two in this training journey but I know now that while they will present some interesting obstacles, I will (most likely) eventually finish.

Next week…it’s eight miles.
In the wise words of Mr. Clark W. Griswold...
"Hallelujah! Holy shit! Where's the Tylenol?"
Wish me luck.

All kidding aside, set backs are something that the staff often see with the kids at the Youth Homes… especially when the dynamics of the house change. This week, Hannah had some struggles with feeling a bit displaced. With the addition of a new girl at the group home, Hannah started to feel like she could be abandoned yet again. Even though the staff worked to assure her that she is fully supported, she started to act on her fears and reach for out for past connections that might not be healthy or even available.

Youth Homes staff wrote this update:

The last week has really been a struggle for Hannah. We recently got a new resident, and Hannah is having difficulty with the adjustment. Hannah’s been able to get a lot of individualized attention and also got to be the youngest of the house. Upon the arrival of the new resident, Hannah lost these comforts because she now sees the new and younger girl as a competition for attention. Hannah has struggled with these feelings before, and it appears she fears losing the relationships she has built. She was really flourishing before and was beginning to better understand what treatment here at the Youth Homes meant. The new struggle for Hannah will be to understand that she will not lose what she’s established, but that life is full of changes that you can learn to navigate.

For now, Hannah has become jealous and resentful towards the new girl’s past. She has begun to think more and more about her birth family, and the anger is beginning to come through. Hannah sees the newest arrival as ungrateful for being able to know her birth family, but is unable to see how staying with this family has wounded her. Hannah is now becoming very emotional about her own family memories, specifically about her birth mother, who she was removed from when she was a baby. She has vocalized wanting to have contact or at least get information about her mother. In the past, Hannah has said the only information she’s gotten about her birth family was negative. How do you explain to a 14 year old, who has said nothing but horrible things about her birth family, that this may not be the best idea right now? All we can do is try to help guide her and prove that we will be here for her as she is finding her way through all the emotions attached to her past.

A Lesson Learned on Dreaded Day Five

2010-04-09T11:27:00.001-06:00

It’s day five.

One day since the fever broke.

Two days since I’ve stepped outside.

It’s been three days since I’ve taken a shower.

And four days since I’ve actually smelled something…which might be good considering the look of this place. But today is day five and I fear I am now at my breaking point. You know…that point when everything just turns a bit more sour than you imagined it could. The day you realize you are actually grossing yourself out with your own unmanageable cough, sneeze, blow routine. The day you remember to stop taking your daily health for granted. The day you stare at the dishes soaking in a sea of milk infused water…muster up a faint wimper in the direction of your barking dog…glare at the unfolded mountain of laundry that is now spread wide on the dining room floor and then just take a minute to just…weep. Day five is not for the faint of heart.

Pathetic. Sad. Truth.

Running seems like forever ago when it’s just been a little under a week but I can truly say I miss it. That is the best thing I can come away with from this stinking flu. I miss running. WOW. I want to go for a run. Double WOW. And I will not take for granted my day to day health ever again…well, I probably will but I will try to remember that under this bed of Kleenex and Vick Vapor Rub…lies a basically healthy and blessed gal that needs to remember to be thankful for the days when she just feels tired or sore instead of mentally, emotionally or physically impaired to the point of not being able to run or do other things that I often take for granted.

I will get better. Maybe on day six or seven…and when I do…I will GET to run. And for that I am thankful. Until then…I will rest in my Nyquil induced slumber.

Eliminating Impossible

2010-04-05T17:47:00.012-06:00

My son has learned to crawl. I witnessed it today. Truth is he has been getting around for the last week with this sort of shuffle ball kick motion that would make any soft shoe dancer proud. But this afternoon, I looked down and saw the actual, bum in the air, hands and feet moving as one action that is unmistakably crawling. He still needs some practice but he is definitely getting around with goal oriented ambition. And he is delighted to be getting to all of the places he has been dreaming of getting to over the last few weeks…yes, the far corner of the living room that houses an interesting mess of cords and plugs that has been taunting him for days is now attainable. Life has suddenly gotten bigger. What was once seemingly impossible is now possible.

I remember feeling his frustration…“it’s impossible to run that far.” That’s what I used to think…just a couple of months ago. Someone I knew was running six miles earlier that morning and I thought…I can’t even imagine running that far. It’s impossible...how am I going to ever be able to do that? It goes against my nature. I’m not athletic…I’m not a runner. I just hope I can make it through tomorrow’s workout.

Then, as I was remembering how that self-doubt never served me well, my thoughts again turned to Hannah. At times, she must think a happier life seems impossible...out of her grasp. After all, she has been told, maybe not directly, but by the actions of the people in her past that she is a lost cause…with the odds against her from the day she was born. Naturally, many believe she’ll inevitably take after the horrible examples she was given. Naturally, (time and time again) she rejects healthy guidance. Naturally, she could turn into a similiar version of the people she has been hurt by. That seems to be her fate. That is what is predicted by many. That she (a very recently turned 14 year old girl) is without hope. In fact, she probably even sometimes thinks her chances are impossible because in her short life, she hasn’t been given much proof otherwise.

So here’s what I think now that I’ve come almost half way and now that I have proven myself wrong in my misguided theories of just what exactly is impossible.

In the case of Hannah, the past is behind her and though she carries the pain, struggle and burden of it with her every day…I believe she will discover her ability to dig deeper and work hard for a better future will surprise her. I believe she will overcome her “impossible” with the support of the Youth Homes and this community. After all, if I didn’t and if people in general didn’t… then, well… there would be no point, no hope and no reason to try anything in the case of a 14 year old girl who has had no real proof that she matters. That would be the only really impossible situation.

So let’s throw out the idea of “impossible” shall we? Let’s get behind the idea that while things seem daunting and against all odds…we can make change happen. From a very natural progression of a baby learning to crawl to a pursuit of a middle aged woman with no history of athletic ability learning to run to a young girl with a nightmare of a past learning to fight for a better future…we all need to believe in overcoming the seemingly impossible and the very relative challenges in our lives.

Oh… and Easter morning April 4, 2010 I ran my six miles…took me a very long hour and 15 minutes and I thought of my hope that Hannah will prove to herself the "impossible" can be done...pretty much the whole way.

On the last mile of Sunday's six mile training run...

the end of this bridge will be the site of the finish line for

the both the half and full Missoula Marathon in July.

Impossible? Nope.

Phantom Smells, Snot Rockets and Your Garden Variety Loogies: The Ugly Underbelly of the Runner’s World

2010-03-31T18:01:00.007-06:00

This one’s for you Jo Ruby!

There is a (mostly) unspoken ugly underbelly I have uncovered in the world of running. This discovery was one I first came across in (you guessed it)…the running class at the Y. Until then, I had no revelations or even preconceived ideas about the general hygiene of runners on the road. I presumed runners; with their gazelle like strides, confident solo agendas of personal achievement and their perfectly coordinated colorful outfits were the enlightened ones of the sporting world. Think about it…only relying on their bodies and mental stamina to reach their goals…with each new accomplishment serving as some kind of vision quest toward the path of fulfillment...it’s like they are the Tibetan monks of sports. I mean really…you talk to a runner and they act as if they will actually shrivel up if they don’t get their run in to clear their head. Why so cloudy? Well, that’s another topic.

Anyway, back to my point…I had always looked at them like they must know something I don’t know because I just didn’t get it. I didn’t get the NEED to run (without being chased). They were, in fact, the most Zen of the athletic world (well…not if you count Yoga as a sport…but you get it). All of this was how I saw it until one day at running class when Jo, the running coach, pulled out a book of “Runner’s Rules” and gave us the ins and outs of the proper technique required in performing a “farmer blow” or “snot rocket,” the etiquette of the toot (which we had actually covered before in a previous class) and the ever important ability to avoid getting hit by a stray loogie (if you don’t know what that is, I’m sorry, I’m not explaining it to you). What’s this? Runners are….gross?!? Shock. Really? Well, it was good comic relief but I’m sure most runners are not that gross I tell myself and we go about the business of running like mad for a good hour session.

THEN…

I go on a run….outside with other zenlike running types.

I start my run feeling great. I have drank water 45 minutes ago to hydrate. I have eaten one egg white…scrambled to perfection and one half of a luna bar over an hour ago. Well done! I have gone to the bathroom – twice…nice. I have dressed for the brisk Montana spring weather...in, I must say, a perfectly coordinated colorful outfit. I am prepared. Bring on the Zen.

It was around mile 3 I believe…it’s painful to recall. I was just coming from the aid station and feeling refreshed from my drink. On my way…through the trees of the park…winding and pounding the dirt trail…enjoying the fresh air and thinking about my final 2 miles ahead. Then, out of nowhere, it happened like a flash. I’m hit! I’m hit! Was that a rain drop? A fresh dew drop from the trees above? Not a bug? What the…oh my god. No…not me. Not on my zenlike run. Not… no…ewwwwwwwwww!

But it was. IT happened to me. And if you are a runner…it can happen to you too. Being the victim of someone’s careless disregard to the very important and yes…I may say…sacred instructions of how to properly perform the farmer blow (or for that matter…how to let a loogie fly or releasing a stinky toot) while running with others is something I may not ever fully recover from. I am speaking out today so that you may guard yourself against this probability in your future and to punctuate the importance of arming yourself with the knowledge of how to fully embrace being gross in proper form (because I’d be willing to bet none of us can say the need never arises) so that others will not suffer the same fate that I fell victim to. Please…do it for the sanctity of the image of zenlike runners everywhere and if not for that…then for god’s sake man…do it for the person behind you.

2010-03-31T16:11:00.000-06:00

After I wrote my last post, I wondered more and more about Hannah and her past. I wanted to know how she came to live at the Youth Homes. I wondered about her mother…about her many placements. Since I used to work at the Youth Homes I contacted Hannah’s therapist and asked her for any information she could give me without violating any Hipaa medical regulations. I obviously cannot and certainly would not put any details of her past in this blog but the information that I received gave me a more accurate picture of the kinds of issues that Hannah deals with each day. Even though I have worked most of my adult life in non-profit and even spent a few years working directly with kids in a group home, I wasn’t prepared for her history. I guess I forgot how difficult these cases can be. Hannah was no exception. She has suffered a tremendous amount in her young life and that’s about all I can say without compromising her privacy. I was blown apart. And it made me even more dedicated to doing my best with this commitment. I hope you will see that importance of the work the Youth Homes does for our area. I hope if you don’t live here you can seek out a non-profit that does similar work and support their efforts. If we don’t rally around these kids…they will become isolated and angry adults suffering from much and little hope for change.

Hannah’s staff wrote this about her birthday:

Today is Hannah’s 14th birthday. She has been counting down the days for months, and has made it clear that she has high expectations. Hannah wanted yellow, blue, and green decorations, a chocolate and marble layered cake, grilled cheese and homemade tomato soup for dinner, and the new Justin Bieber CD (among several other requests). I’m happy to say that here at Talbot; we try to fulfill as many birthday requests as possible. She got her blue and green decorations, she was able to make her cake (it was important to her that she make it herself), and her dinner was made. She may have to get in another cardio this week however, the food was delicious and filling!! She even received a nice gift from "Kim the Reluctant Runner" which made her scream with delight! (Actually there was high decibel energy all night with girly squeals and giggles! - a nice break from "therapy" and focusing on all the tough issues in her life...tonight was HER night to bask in the celebration!!) Hannah was surrounded by many people who care about her. Unfortunately, like with many residents, Hannah didn’t have any family members here to celebrate. It seemed as though this didn’t bother her too much, and hopefully this is because we were able to show her that she is surrounded by people who care and will be there for her. She got all the gifts she asked for and was surprised with a concert at the University to end her special day. Hannah was full of positive energy throughout the day, and had a hard time harnessing it. She was thankful of all the people who shared her day and is already counting down for next year, the big 15. 364 days...

Milestones

2010-03-28T13:57:00.015-06:00

Today is Hannah’s birthday. I thought of her as soon as I woke up. Then I started to get ready for my five mile run. From now on each Sunday will be a new distance that I have never done before. Every Sunday I will wake up, put on my running clothes, kiss my kids, get a hug from my husband, grab my IPOD and pray I did a good morning routine so that the new “longest distance I’ve ever ran before” goes as smoothly as possible. For some reason, today I was nervous. Don’t really know why but I had a nervous stomach and those surges of energy that come out of nowhere reminding you that something big is coming. So today was five miles and Hannah’s birthday and all I could do was give it my best.

As I entered the room where the training group meets, the speaker of the day was already talking. She was a physical therapist and she was showing us appropriate exercises and stretches to keep “endurance” athletes healthy. It was informative and good information but I just keep thinking about the five miles ahead. When it was time to start I thought of Hannah again. “Happy Birthday kid…this is for you.” Fourteen years old. Fourteen years young. What was I doing at fourteen? Life wasn’t perfect for me at that age. It’s a ridiculous age. It’s hard. You worry about boys, zits and geometry. But it’s also a coming of age…you start to really define who you are. What you believe in…what you want to be…who you want to be like.

At mile one and a half I was thinking…I can do this. I know the hill is coming but I’ve done it before…just one foot and then the other. A perfect slow but steady song came on the IPOD…people were passing me…but I was steady. Climbing…

Hannah must have been at a lot of different schools. I don’t know much about the details of her life but I know she’s been in a lot of different placements…group homes, foster parents, others? I wonder how she does adjusting to new schools, teachers and friends. When I was her age I temporarily moved back to Pittsburgh with my mother. I tried the new high school for a week but then I could hack it…I missed my friends and my life in Montana. I moved back with my Dad. One new school and I couldn’t do it. But then again, I had a choice...a hard one but I could make it. I know Hannah doesn’t really have that choice right now.

I made it up the hill…I saw some others that had passed me were walking now. I slowly moved passed them and headed up Duncan Drive. I followed the herd expanding far ahead of me...must be a mile ahead before we turn. I remember thinking…gawd that looks like forever…maybe the five milers turn somewhere sooner.

I wonder where Hannah’s mother is today. She must be thinking of Hannah. I don’t know if they are in touch…if they still talk. If Hannah even knows her. I wonder if I’ll find that out. Anyway, I start to think about her. She could be about my age. She carried her for nine months. She loved her and she loves her still. I don’t need to know the details to know that. Geoff Birnbaum, the Executive Director of Youth Homes (my old boss) used to say to me, “people don’t wake up in the morning and say to themselves…how can I hurt my kid today.” It’s a more complicated problem than that. It’s easy to place blame if you don’t take a closer look. When you really stop to think about anyone else's troubles it’s easier to understand their situation the more you learn about it. Bottomline…humans are a complicated mess with outstanding potential…everyone of us.

I managed to make it to the turn…and then found the aid station. I took a quick drink of water and I was off through the woods at the edge of the park. Running through the park was the best part. No one passed me…it was as if I was alone on the dirt trail with the trees surrounding me and glimpses of the creek. I smelled Montana air. There were no distractions. No reminders that I had a long way to go. My legs were heavy but I was halfway now and breathing fine.

Hannah probably isn’t even awake yet. It’s only a little past 9am but wait...she did say she was an early riser and she was so excited for her birthday…counting down the days. What is it like to have a birthday at a new place with new staff…new kids…strangers really...celebrating your birthday with you? Hannah is unfortunately probably used to it. I know she has family in Montana and I know she will probably get a visit or call from her last foster family but I wondered what it would be like for her. Would she be disappointed? Or would she be thrilled to have gifts and a cake and people singing to her? I hope she likes the gift I got her. It’s nothing big but I wanted her to know I was thinking of her today. What’s it like getting gifts from a stranger? I only met her the one time.

On my way to mile four I pass my friends (AKA - the saints – if you don’t get this reference it’s from a previous post) house. Of course they were waiting for me to pass and stepped out on their porch to cheer me on. I look at their house dreamily. They are in their pjs and probably just getting finished with a fresh batch of homemade pancakes with real maple syrup. Ahhh….maybe I could just….just keep going. And I smile and wave and move down the street.

I wonder what will happen to Hannah next. She’s only fourteen….today. That’s four more years until graduation. And then past that will she have support? I know I leaned on my parents for years after my eighteenth birthday. I still rely on them. Who will Hannah have? She must have someone…right? Right now, she has the Youth Homes. She has a place to call home today. A place where they are probably right now waking her up to a good breakfast and planning out her big day. She’ll be sung to and she will get some gifts. She’ll get a special dinner and be tucked in tonight. Someone will give her a hug today. Someone will say, “Happy Birthday Hannah.”

I just have under a mile to go. I just got passed by another runner. She looks great…strong. She inspires me to go a little bit faster…to feel my legs and make each stride count. I think back to when I ran with Hannah and she sped up at the finish. She hurdled over a fence with excitement. I can see the finish now. I can feel good that I did something hard that I’ve never done before…again. And I did it for Hannah…on her birthday.

I hope she will get a call or a card or something from her mother. I hope she will have a moment to feel loved and wanted in this world. I hope she will feel the warmth of this place…this community…I hope she will know someone cares…she might even think to herself, “someone is out there this morning running when it’s hard for them because I’m important and I’m valued and I’m cared for.” But if that’s too much to expect…as I suspect it is...then I just hope with all my heart that she has had a very special birthday feeling supported by those around her…and that she gets that crazy “New Moon” movie on DVD she’s been wanting.

A Slightly Nutty Conversation Between My Gut and Myself about Moving My Feet…faster

2010-03-24T16:18:00.001-06:00

The scene: YMCA indoor track – 1 highly energetic running instructor, 10-12 women, 1 local weatherman (just an interesting fact, not really prevalent to the story) for speed work running class
The task: 8 laps, 16 laps, 8 laps, 8 laps at a 10K pace (walk a few in between to rest)

MY GUT: You can do this. It’s not that big of a deal…lots of people do this. All the time, you see them passing you by with those highly self-actualized smiles on their faces. One foot in front of the other. Why do you care that you’ve never been a runner before…so what if it’s a completely foreign land…you are doing it now. You’ve been doing it for weeks now.

MYSELF: Crap, I’m out of breath already. My lips are dry. My side aches. My legs feel like a damn elephants for God’s sake. Thud Thud…Thud Thud. I’m what they call a “heavier foot” runner…I think it’s code for “doesn’t quite lift the legs while running. Maybe I should slow down.

MY GUT: Seriously dude…your pain is not unique. Many others have tried this and actually…gasp…lived. You can too.

MYSELF: Yeah, but maybe I’m just not really built for this. I mean…I’m all cricketity (shut up…yes it IS a word). Did you hear the riDONKculous (another totally valid word) sound my knees made when I got up off the floor…I thought the load bearing wall was giving way.

MY GUT: You’re impossible. It’s not just about you…it’s about them too. Your kids…and Hannah…remember? Get out of your head...think about their faces once they see you finish at the half-marathon. It’s about doing something hard to show them hard can be done. Hard makes it all worth it. Hard will make you stronger. Be stronger. Be more daring.

Myself: More daring? Stronger? You self-righteous piece of mush in my so called mid-region…I did deliver three children in the last 6 years. I don’t see you bouncing back from that. Good bye bikini forever. Thank you very little.

MY GUT: First of all…let’s remember I’m just a representation of your will and not your actual mid-region. Come on…first the right…now the left…

Myself: Oh crap, I still have 8 more laps to go and I almost fainted after only shaving off 3 seconds from my mile time trial. Man. Oh, there’s Jo. Do NOT make eye contact with runner instructor…do NOT make eye contact with...

TO INSTRUCTOR: “Oh hey Jo! Yes, I did run last Sunday…4 miles…yeah it blew because of a side ache…but it’s getting better. Yup, I’ve got 8 more laps to go. My last 8 were kinda slow…oh, what’s that? You want me to go faster now? Okay. Got it. You bet.”

Myself: NOOoooo problem (insert sarcasm here). And we are going again…you idiot…why the need to admit the slowness? And of course omit the throat full of desert sand and legs stuck in peanut butter kinda sensations? Rookie mistake…never again.

MY GUT: Hey look…you’re still doing it! One more song on the IPOD and then you’re done.

1 ½ songs on the IPOD later…and…Done.

Myself: MUST GET WATER.

Jo: Hey Kim, you’re getting the big “A” today.

Me to Jo: (Kim looking at Jo as if she is suspect) Whatdaya mean “A”?

Jo: For Adjustment. Your were faster this week. We're adjusting your times. Yeah!

Others (who so obviously also drink the kool-aid too) in the background: Oh Yeah! Good job! Adjustment!

Myself: What in THE hell did you do? Crap.

MY GUT (always with the last word): Be proud of your elephant like heavy footedness! You stomped your way into improvement! Time to give a highly self-actualized smile…now go stretch before your hamstring breaks in two.

Meeting Hannah

2010-03-21T13:34:00.006-06:00

Last Friday I got to meet Hannah. We went on a run. She will be fourteen in seven days. I believe it was the very first thing out of her mouth. She was infectious, energetic and full of teenage ridiculousness. She wasn’t shy…for some reason I expected her to be. She was (very obviously) putting her best foot forward. She knew I was running the half marathon in her honor and she was honored. It was all over her face. She wanted to run the best she could.

She needed to stop just a few times (and at her pace I was fine with that after all I’m just getting going too). She got a side cramp. She told me she was ready and we were running again. She slowed down when it was icy. She sped up when we hit the sunshine. She talked about a blister. She made me laugh. She made me ache. She wants to get "New Moon" on DVD. She reminds me of my nieces. She loves dogs and really doesn’t care much one way or another about cats. She is cautious. She just got new shoes. She hates to babysit. She loves Jessica’s dog. She smiles for the camera. She has lived in lots of different homes. She thinks Tim is funny. She admires the other girl living with her at the group home for running the whole distance. She sees the finish. She sprints at the end and hurdles a fence. She is something to watch. She smiles. She melts into the bench to rest. She jokes. She says goodbye. She waves goodbye. She watches me as they leave.

She is Hannah and now I know her. Now it’s personal.

(Hannah is the name I call her by in this blog to protect her identity)

Getting Zen with a Side Ache

2010-03-21T13:04:00.004-06:00

Patience is something we practice at our house on a minute by minute basis. Right now, as I type, my four year old is screaming on the couch because she is upset about naptime (among other things) and is hoping her tears will magically unlock a parental door to that unattainable fairyland where all wishes come true the very moment you dream them into existence. It isn’t that different from my impatience with (among other things) my lack of experience with this running gig.

FACT: At some point in your journey to the runner’s high (aka “fairyland where all wishes come true the moment you dream them” it stinks to be a runner past a certain window of youthful ambivalence to body ache and pain.

Which brings me to the topic of today’s post…the side ache or “stitch.” Now I know that people of all ages get these little sons of bitches at some point or another in their running regimes but I also know that the inexperienced runner (the shallow breather, the older than most that start the pursuit of running from scratch and the more impatience among us) is more prone to this pitiful condition. Needless to say, the side ache was the bane of my four mile run this morning.

It went like this:

Group run starts fine minus almost getting hit by SUV minutes after being reminded by a police officer in our training class on the rule of safety. Rule #1 – Car always wins. About ½ mile into the run, side ache begins. I attempt to breathe more deeply…but of course my old friend common sense instinctively reminds me in its sarcastic tone, “Wow, Kim…you really think you can breathe more deeply while gasping for air at the same time?” So I try to slow down without affecting the time/space continuum…I mean sometimes I do fear if I slow down any more I could actually be in reverse. So then I give in to the idea of walking a few paces just to get my breathing in order and get passed by a running classmate from the Y. Sigh. Run again. Get to campus drive...ache not gone…walk again for a few steps…get passed by yet another running classmate from the Y (there are only about 12 of us…I mean, really…the odds). Not that I mind getting passed by my Y classmates…after all if you read the preceeding post they are inspiring and so on but do the two that attend these training group runs actually have to catch me walking…totally stunk. Then I decide to try the mental strength thing…you know that Jedi mind trick crap that people refer to as “mental toughness” or “heart” like that Rudy kid from Notre Dame. Anyway, the point is…I push through. I start running again. It got a little better. Then some nice women that run at my pace caught up to me and I had a distraction. They talked and I listened. It was great. I could see the light at the end. I actually (still with ache in side) enjoyed myself (especially when I saw my car). I made it. Four miles.

At home I looked up how to get rid of a side ache while running…I got everything from drink more water to breathe deeply (yup) to a complicated rhythmic breathing while putting down the opposite foot of the side that aches on the exhale type coordinated effort (if you followed that…I applaud you). My main lesson learned was I will not fail if I keep moving forward even with an ache. And if I’m really getting good at the patience thing I will be able to avoid a tantrum in the middle of the street and actually enjoy the journey to the finish. Good stuff.

What Van Gogh Taught Me

2010-03-17T12:27:00.003-06:00

Great things are not done by impulse, but by a series of small things brought together.
                                                                                               -Vincent Van Gogh

I am an artist. I have been since I can remember. I won a contest when I was in the second grade. It was a big deal at the private school in Pittsburgh that I was sent to because my mom taught there and we could go for free.  It was a pretty impressive school with an impressive name...the kind where all the students (only girls) wore plaid uniforms and took ballet lessons and learned greek at age 12. My German born art teacher had lots of resources in her art room and I got the bug early. It must have been something about that environment that gave me the confidence to actually truly believe at age 7, I was as good as any artist in the museums. I was told, "Kim, you a a gifted artist" over and over again and I believed it.  As I grew up, I started to doubt it but I still sketched, painted, collaged and never put down the brush. It was my thing. I owned it. Even though I knew better now when I visited the museums that the artists represented on the walls were far more gifted, I still counted myself among them. They were my people. I was inspired by them, not intimidated...inspired. I fully accepted by my 20s that I would never be an artist in museums in New York City. I even decided against art school for a more traditional degree. I still painted. It was still my thing. They were still my people. In my 30s, I started a family, had a career in non-profit and had my very first art show. I was nervous but it always felt like a fit. I never felt new to it...which leads me to today.

Today, I felt new to something and got that fish out of water feeling you kinda dread. New to a completely foreign land...a land of sporting competition. I wasn't joking when I said I have never really exercised...it was not my thing. Sure, I rode a bike, took hikes, played in the Montana outdoors but I never was in a competitive sport, never ran a mile, and never really thought exercise was for me. But today, in running class we had a relay race. Four teams of three people. Each team running 100 laps as fast as they could get them done. I was paired with the fastest in the class to make it fair. I also ran the least amount of laps. We also still took third place. Now while it was all for fun and no hard feelings...it left me a bit down on myself until I remembered those famous artists that inspired me without any thought that I didn't belong among them.

So why was this different? The answer is...it isnt different. I thought back on class today and remembered...I showed up again. I am completely committed and I am doing my best. I also am surrounded by a great group of people that have been at this for years and I have been at this for 2 months.   So just like those artists in the museums...I am now inspired by the more advanced runners around me and furthermore...I believe I belong to this group.

A perspective from a Youth Homes foster parent

2010-03-16T19:18:00.004-06:00

This comment was posted by a Youth Homes foster parent on the Mamalode site regarding the article I wrote about the Run 4 Kids Team. I thought I'd share it with you just to give a bit more info about what YHI does for kids in need and our community members in Western, MT. Remember to donate if you can (visit the firstgiving site I have listed on the left) to help support YHI so more of these situations can happen. Also, see the you tube video that shows a 9 minute documentary about the Youth Homes foster parents. Its the last video on the You Tube video bar to the bottom left)
Thanks! -K

Kim,

I know the reluctant-to-buy-sneakers-for-fear-of-using-them feeling, the kind that stops me from listening through headphones, wearing my hair in a ponytail, and going to places where runners go. I might be persuaded to use my legs more. After reading your story and a pep talk with my hips I feel closer to the brink of “sign me up!” Your words are motivational and true. Youth Homes, the staff and kids have changed my life dramatically. I have seen the effects of our community wrapping around a child. In 2009 I was matched with a Youth Homes kiddo. Just tonight, while making her first batch of waffles, she said, “I’m really thankful for you.” I didn’t have to hear it to know it; she shows me everyday. I am thankful for her too. With the guidance from Youth Homes (Go Julie!) and permission to relate the best we can she and I have a special, safe relationship. We, the community, do make an incredibly positive difference in the lives of youth. By running, donating, parenting and more we show them how to be part of and feel proud of this amazing Missoula. We eventually get to run with them. That said, if our family of three isn’t in the race, we’ll at least be on the sidelines cheering on the YHI Race 4 Kids team.

That deserves a high-5!
- Lindsey

Add it Up

2010-03-14T13:35:00.003-06:00

Yesterday's news: Husband called to let me know he missed his flight home...he would be delayed two more days.

My night's sleep: Awake at 11 pm, then 3:30am then again at 4:45 with the baby.

This morning in Florence, MT: Kids up at 6:30am
Baby bag - Check
Shoes - Check
Changes of clothes - Check
IPOD - Check
Check mirror...eww...bring hat. Check.
Out the door at 6:55 am

Arrival at friends house that offered to babysit kids at 7:30 am (after the eve of Daylight Savings) AKA the "saint's" house - no lights on, no one awake...hmmm.
Wait in car with DVD for kids until said saints awaken and realize it was Daylight Savings time.
Saint awakes just as I was plotting breaking into the house without disturbing their 4 sleeping children or being attacked by saint's new dog.
Three children dropped off - Check
(Quick math: 4 + 3 = 7 children at saint's house)

Drive to Runner's Edge - find premium parking spot that will allow me to cut 1/10th of mile off running distance today - Check!

Listen to Anders (coach) talk while wondering if I can avoid the need to use the porta potty.

8:28 am - Start running the longest distance I have ever run in my life at a "relaxed" pace. Try not to notice all the runners passing me, including the ones so clearly cheating by having their dogs pull them down the street. Pass Tim (coach's Daddy)...one mile done. Pass another guy who points me UP A HUGE FRICKEN' HILL and manage to make up said hill. Back down hill and back through park. Try not to look too overly beaten down as I pass all the advanced runners as they begin their miles.

9:01 am - Arrive at car. 3 miles done. Remember it was just 2 months ago I struggled running 5 minutes...take a second to smile.

11:17 am - 1 missing husband, 1 snorning beagle, 1 sleeping baby, 2 kids plugged into TV
Catnap on couch...with 85 pound lab who apparently missed me so much this morning he felt the need to cuddle my head. Sigh.

I believe all this means...I AM RUNNER!

And I'd just like to say...it is extremely encouraging to be running with the beginners (and even some of you advanced people) in the half and full marathon training group...it was such a great sight to see all of us bustin' it up that stupid hill. Inspiring.

INVINCIBLE

2010-03-10T19:23:00.013-07:00

You know when you look around your house and wish you had the magical powers of Samantha from Bewitched you’re going to have a long day. You know those days…for me it looks like this; the husband is on a business trip in a balmy 75 degree climate, library books are due, the garbage needs to go out, the house is a disaster, the kids have engaged in some contest to see who can make me say, “Mommy’s gonna lose it” fastest AND to top it all off… it is this particular day that my beloved elderly beagle decided to release all the valves that hold her together on my “save the planet” “made from corn” (supposedly stain resistant) carpet. And the kicker is, it is this week, that I need to attempt my very first 5K run (well…its 3 miles but close enough).

So, therefore… the theme of today’s post is going to have to be…dan danna da…“feeling INVINCIBLE” against the odds. It reminds me of the time my six year old ran around the house feeling invincible courtesy of his superhero strength (fueled by a cape made from his baby brother’s blankie.) He’d run around the staircase, through the living room and back into the kitchen, shouting, “bet you didn’t see me cuz I’m SO fast with my cape!” I absolutely loved seeing him that confident…that empowered like there was nothing that could stop him because he had on that cape.

It was a good reminder of the kind of gumption I needed to muster to get through this week. Today, I headed back to my running class at the Y that I started last week. Early this morning, I was strongly against the notion of running at all, let alone, running with intent to move quickly. But, committed to the process and thinking of my motivation of Hannah (the girl I'm running the half in honor of currently living at the Youth Homes), I got myself dressed in the proper uniform and managed to get there with two of my three kids in tow.

First threat decimated…KA POW!

Now onto my second challenge…self doubt. Can I really do this damn class? What am I thinking doing speed work when I just started running anyway. Seriously, it’s a big enough deal to just keep moving…why the need to push it? I mean come ON! But I go in…the others in the class have made eye contact now…no going back. And we start our insane assignment for this particular week. Run 12 laps at a 5K pace (say wha?) THEN go FASTER for the next 8 laps, then faster for the next 6 and so on until you fall over. Okay, maybe she didn’t say until you “fall over” but you’re picking up what I’m laying down right? Anyway, even though I still have to master the art of pacing myself to avoid the notion of an accidental upchuck, I ran faster than expected. I beat my times for the most part and I feel pretty darn good for finishing the workout at all.

Second threat obliterated…WHAM-O!

Now to conquer an even more relentless and determined foe…naptime. It seems an impossible task getting both 8 month old and big sister to sleep at the same time without an outburst of sneezing and reflux from the afore mentioned beagle but the stars align and

SHA-ZAM! Sleeping children…foe successfully wiped out ( haha…get it…”wiped out”…yeah, I'm sorry)

Anyway, this Sunday I will attempt my 3 mile run with the Marathon training group and then next week, we will be doing a “St. Patrick’s Day Relay” in my running class (notice how my instructor Jo tries to make it warm and fuzzy by adding the happy go luckiest of holidays to the name)…but I know better…you can’t fool me…evil never rests.

Meanwhile…I could use a cape.

Hannah also was up against the odds this week facing a big challenge for her and feeling a bit "capeless." Jessica, a youth care worker and Hannah's primary staff from Youth Homes Inc. writes this update about Hannah this week:

Hannah has been "working on" a science fair project for at least the past two months. (When it is something you really don't like...or is challenging, the words "working on" are deceptive!! Kind of like "working out"...when it's challenging it's easy to to fudge a little.)

We have been doing our best to offer our help with each step, but unfortunately Hannah hasn’t accepted it or has claimed that it was already handed in. Hannah tends to skip homework instead of asking questions, spends a lot of time on easier assignments, and for the most part daydreams during her study time. The night before the science fair, we noticed that she had not put any effort into her project. When she was confronted on her progress, she immediately became victimized and shut down because it was too hard. She had already “completed” her study hour as well, so the thought of doing extra work seemed to be quite upsetting. As we asked her questions about her experiment, she was completely confused on how to make sense of the information she did have. Hannah was given attention and assistance from us to essentially re-do her project. We went back and asked questions in order to help guide her back through her experiment. As she started talking in detail about what she had done, she began to explain all the missing work on the project. Hannah began to realize that she wasn’t confused; she just wasn’t putting in the effort. We spent two hours with her, after her bedtime, to complete this project. In the end, it turned out great and Hannah was extremely appreciative of our help. Sometimes all it takes is patience, nurturance, more patience and someone willing to keep nudging.

This experience is important to share because Hannah has a very difficult time trusting caregivers. As we've mentioned before, it’s not surprising that Hannah is skeptical of us offering to help. She may not have had an adult caregiver spend so much time with her making sure she was successful in the past. As irritated as she was, we may have started to prove to her that we will be there for her even if she makes a mistake. Like most parents, we could not set her up to fail, so we pressed through as a group until it was completed well. We attended Hannah’s science fair and she seemed so proud! Hopefully in the future she will reflect on this and choose to do things differently.

Can success breed success? We are counting on it...

Going “Public” (well…in person anyway)

2010-03-03T16:20:00.005-07:00

Yesterday the blog made the paper (that other people read). This morning I joined a running class (with other people). On Sunday, I’ll be in a crowded room (with lots of other people - see pic of Run Wild training classmates to the left) starting a half marathon training program. Lots of people, all around, in person…witnesses.
It’s a big step for me; after all, the last time I publically did anything in the form of group athletics (not counting beer pong, my college coed softball team aptly named "The Leftovers", horseshoes or volleyball...no offense to serious volleyball players) was when I joined the fifth grade basketball team. We were the mighty Tigers…not one win all season. I can still hear my coach trying to explain to me the concept of moving AND dribbling at the same time. Anyway, my point is this is all still so very new and now I have witnesses in this endeavor. People that can actually see me…gasp…struggle.

To my surprise, it’s exactly what I needed. And to my delight, the people in my running class seem to be actually quite normal and nice. In fact, as I entered (already sweaty with anticipation and having come from my second trip to the bathroom in 7 minutes) my instructor was explaining some kind of crazy candy run she was making her husband endure for her. Didn’t get the details but I’m pretty sure I could relate. Then down to business…she started talking about a bus to Bloomsday in Spokane, other tidbits on running etiquette she found from Runner’s World magazine relating to how to fart properly during a race (always good to know) and then onto the strange new language I couldn’t yet follow; group 1 do a 400, 600, 800, 1200 then down again and group 2 do blah blah blah…hun? And then wrapped up the briefing with “Kim, I’ve got something special for you to do.” A time trial. Yikes. Never, except for maybe those “field days” in elementary school, can I remember having to perform a mile to see my time…my time.

Nervous again…16 times around the track…only a mile but this time it was with witnesses... and worse yet, someone that expected to know my time. I began fine but right about the fifth lap I started to remember I’m a beginner. I moved slow and steady. People were flying by me. I knew I was slow but…wow. I put it out of my mind and just kept going. Lisa, my friend, passed me saying, “Go Kim Go” and that helped me gain my second burst of energy. I went a little faster and then I was done. Whew. One mile in 9 minutes and 57 seconds. I immediately doubt my time…I must of missed a lap. But then I do another 8 laps and then another 8 and my time probably puts me about at 11 minute miles…respectable...I am satisfied for now. What I found out today was big…witnesses actually HELP. No one really does it alone even if it’s up to you how you get it done.

Next week Jo, my instructor, tells me I will have to do as much as the others in the group. And I think to myself I might just actually survive. And if I don’t…I will have witnesses to call for help.

A Push or Two

2010-03-01T17:49:00.014-07:00

My child smells like cheese, I smell like a sweaty wreck and you don’t want to know what my elderly beagle smells like. But I still can be proud of the whole stinky lot of us because we all took to the streets with an important tool…the jogging stroller. Well, I don’t know if mine is really an official jogging stroller but it moves forward when you push it which is why I started thinking about what exactly is pushing me. Not to mention the fact that I would like more of it please. Not more motivation but more momentum. And even though some people tend to use these terms, kind of interchangeable, I found the difference between them to be exactly my problem as of late. There is a difference…I looked it up.

Motivation is “the activation or energization of goal-oriented behavior.” So in my case…I thought to myself…set a goal of running the half and draw energy from the fact that it might do some good for the Youth Homes. Okay. Done.

While momentum is a bit more scientific or to be more accurate...a matter of physics.

Momentum: noun pl. momentums -•tums or momenta -•ta (-tə)

1. the impetus of a moving object

2. strength or force that keeps growing a campaign that gained momentum

3. Physics, Mech. the product of the mass of a particle, body, etc. and its velocity: abbrev. M

And as in any thing that moves...momentum can shift, change and wax and wane.

So…I’m left wondering what just exactly will keep pushing me forward. I, unfortunately, cannot be pushed through the streets of Missoula in a jogging stroller and truly feel any sense of accomplishment….I mean really, as much as I’ve dreamed that could be an option it would be a bit of a cheat.

But what WILL push me? Where do I draw momentum from? I really had to think this one through…dig deep down. And what I found wasn’t all that special or unique to me. You might even find it to be an "Uh Duh" kinda statement. It is what anyone needs to accomplish something they think is impossible. It is also something that adheres to the rule that strength of momentum can come and go.

It is simply...a belief in one’s self.

Simple but not always easy on mile 2 of many many more ahead. My belief that I can do this comes in bursts for now...waxing and waning.

Update: I am going to the running class my friend asked me to try. She told me I will have to run 16 times around their indoor track to get a baseline of my ability. Hmph. And then onto the first training class with Run Wild Missoula on Sunday. (push push...push push)

Jessica, Hannah's primary staff, writes this update for the week:

Hannah seems to finally be making herself comfortable here. (Although that could change on any given day!!) She is more at ease with each of the staff members and her peers. Hannah seems to be understanding the rules and expectations of the level system....but that doesn’t mean she’s necessarily following all of them. Just like a teenager, she's pushing the limits some to see what she can get away with!

She’s become consistent with her three cardios each week, and it seems to be getting easier for her to do. We changed things up on her over the past couple weekends because of the beautiful weather. We did cardios as a group and hiked up the M and the L. Hannah was really excited about the change, and REALLY excited about skipping out on the treadmill for a night! Mixing things up a bit has been good for her...although we emphasize consistency in the program, sometimes flexibility is what pushes us to grow even more. Hannah went into each hike with confidence, but this quickly wavered. After about 5 minutes on each hike, she fell behind and starting complaining of body aches and pains that were not related to hiking. It seemed as though she didn’t have as much confidence as we first thought. However, I’m happy to say that with some encouragement and a steady pace the complaining quickly stopped and she was a superstar! Hannah really enjoyed the new experience and the view at the top of each hike was more than a reward for her.

Fundraising site is UP!

2010-02-26T19:11:00.003-07:00

If you'd like to support this effort...please visit my firstgiving page that is now up and ready to go...it's the easiest way to give. Youth Homes has a extremely low administration cost so you know your dollars will be used for the kids you have chosen to support with your donation. Of course the site is secure BUT if you would rather send a check...please mail to PO Box 7616 Missoula, MT 59807 with the check made out to Youth Homes Inc. and Run 4 Kids Team - Kim Anderson in the memo. Thanks for considering a gift!
http://www.firstgiving.com/kimandersonrelucantrunner

A New World (by the numbers)

2010-02-25T10:27:00.002-07:00

Much better run today. Back up to a half an hour...at a snails pace BUT I'm moving forward. Now onto a even more daunting task than running...figuring out how to eat right to "fuel" (that's an official runner term) the runs.

So 50/25/25 right? If you want 1 less a week then cut your daily count by 500. Be sure to fall between 118 and 155 to see the maximum result of your effort and also remember to do at least 30 a day to get to where you need to go. Remember one ounce is plenty of that and too much of saturated stuff is horrible. Poly is good but mono is better. Lean lean fighting machine when thinking of protein but make sure not to forget 50% of your intake of your daily allowance should be those COMPLEX carbs with most of those eaten around the time of your run. Oh and by the way, running at a 4 for 30 means that you can maybe accomplish 2. Get in 5 to 6 a day of those and avoid 1 before your morning run. Remember to rest. Guess I’ll do that in between trying to figure out my proper BMI.

Okay then, sounds simple enough. You followed it...right?

I was thinking about all the new things that go along with any new world you enter; the uniform (in this case overpriced and undersized stretchy garmets), the people, the customs, the food and, of course, the language. I've been a little preoccupied with a nervous tendency to try to know everything I can about my new world all at once. Burns a person out. My salvation is that my new world is one that will help me improve my life, it will give me a chance at a healthier way to be...something good I can enjoy during the process. As long as I remember that that's the goal...not to look fabulous nearing mid-life while avoiding pain or worse...dreaded embarassment.

So then the next step in my new found rebirth is to remember how I got here in the first place...my girl Hannah. What's it like for a kid starting life in a new group home? Hannah has been in new placements before...quite a lot of them. But for each one, she enters a new world all over again. She must learn the customs, the new dynamics, the rules of the land and so on. Over and over again she has had to do this. At the Girls Home I know the staff are excellent at their jobs. They recognize this process that each kid must go through to be able to start on their own road to health. She is in the right hands. But she needs to put in her share of the work all while adjusting to her new world.

I have a pain in my right leg today...its sore from my spastic attempt to run SUPER FAST yesterday. I'm pretty thankful that's all I have to complain about. Hannah's dealing with a whole lot more at the ripe ole age of 14.

Out in the Cold

2010-02-24T12:33:00.004-07:00

Today's attempt was the stuff of Tonya Harding's broken shoelace. Totally pathetic. I'm having trouble figuring out what days to run and when to rest. I ran yesterday and am planning on it tomorrow so I kinda half attempted today...with that kind of mindset. Needless to say it didn't go so hot. I started on the treadmill in shorts in the comfort of my basement with the full support of my husband taking on the kid duty. He said, "just walk a bit, maybe run fast for a short time but then stop...get your muscles doing something different." Sounds good...just a 20 minute stretch then. So down I go...I start with a 5 minute walk, then I turn the machine up and start to run fast (amatuer move)...then I want to stop almost immediately. I get off and make my way back up the stairs. My husband meets me with a questioning look..."what happend?" I answer a bit over dramatically, "I failed." "Well, just go walk a bit more, he says encouragingly, "you havent failed, you ran yesterday." I turn to go up to the bedroom and find myself instead walking out the front door (in shorts still and its about 20 degrees at 8:30 am) and running down my driveway...and then down the street....just to the stop sign...now, just keep going until the next one...and I find myself back at the house, out of breath, cold and kinda annoyed. It was my first attempt outside and I ran only a good 6 or 7 minutes around the circle of my neighborhood...maybe half a mile. What the hell? I know I can keep moving for atleast 30 minutes but this morning I couldn't hack it. BUT...I did keep trying so that one step at a time thing really is starting to make some sense. I'll see you tomorrow treadmill.
And as for you...my outdoor pavement foe...I'll see you in the afternoon (in pants).

Just a reminder...training with Anders from Runners Edge and Run Wild Missoula starts March 7th!

Shawn Gray of the Youth Homes writes this about Hannah this week:
The past week has been difficult for Hannah. She has experienced a lot of change in her life, so it is not surprising that she is sensitive to it. One of Hannah’s peers graduated from Talbot last Wednesday, and Hannah took it hard, even though the two only lived together for about a month. It was hard to tell if she was genuinely upset about her peer leaving, or if she had a rush of old feelings. From what Hannah has said, she is used to loss and disappointment. She just recently lost her last foster mother, and continues to talk about it almost daily. During the week, Hannah seemed to be trying to mask her past feelings through focusing her sadness on her peer’s graduation. Hannah has perfected being victimized, so it is also hard to separate true emotion and attention seeking. She tends to exaggerate stories in order to get a reaction, or attention from staff. We are also beginning to notice that she uses different versions of her stories depending on who she is talking to, and what environment she is in. Regardless of the root of her feelings, they cannot be ignored. This may be Hannah’s first step towards asking for help and looking to share her life experience. Although her week may not sound positive, you have to look for the small steps forward in treatment. To us, Hannah’s choice to seek out time with staff to talk about her feelings IS exactly that step forward.

Learning to Crawl...like a good little baby

2010-02-22T19:46:00.002-07:00

Have you ever really watched a baby just starting to learn to crawl? They get pissed A LOT of the time. And the people that love them LET them get pissed and have patience remembering the little cherub is just learning. Even when they don’t believe they can do it…the people around them just coo at them and give them a little nudge. This is me. I am the pissed baby.

My friend Lisa asked me to join a running class at the Y. “Just consider it Kim…it would be good to run with other people, they start you at your level…it’s no pressure…it’s fun” she said. I responded, “yeah…sounds good…I’ll defiantly probably do it…probably…yes.” In my mind, I sigh and remind myself to take a breath. It is a great idea. Running with others…yes, I will have to do this eventually. I can’t help but to think of Forrest Gump just running because he felt like it and then remember when all those people started to run with him? Was it the same? Did he feel the pressure of those feet all around him pounding in rhythm…pushing him to keep moving. Did he even think about it? Of course not, it was a character in a damn movie. I guess my question is will I be able to run with others and not feel…lost.

Not lost like I’m having problems with being insignificant…lost like, “What the hell am I doing here?” I still move slower than a 75 year old speed walker (seriously, the one time I tried a 5 K an old lady passed me speed walking…yeah, I know). That being said, I can hear my friends already reminding me that I’ve only really just begun and anything worth doing takes some time…some commitment… but will I ever feel like I fit with this new pursuit? Afterall, I’m not just running ever once in awhile. I’m running 4 or 5 days a week and doing yoga the other 2 and then keeping up with the 3 kids, ignoring my art and…blah blah blah (I realize my pain is only special to me…thank you Amy…you’re completely right and it’s good to remember). My point is not to point to what I’m doing but to realize I’m in the middle of a big lifestyle change and it’s kinda daunting. I’m even eating differently (people that know me well know that is HUGE)…who am I? I guess the scariest question yet is…will I keep it up? Can I count on myself to actually lay a good foundation with my effort so that it will become habit instead of a whim? Will this be a starting point for the rest of my life or just the rest of this particular six month stretch until the big day? And for as much of an introvert as I am…I sure picked a public way of finding this out. Damn accountability…no, I mean thank God for accountability.

I’m pretty sure the kids at the Youth Homes don’t get to just stop working on things when they move beyond the Youth Homes doors. Here’s to Hannah and her work on getting a good foundation at the Girl’s Home.

surprised myself a bit

2010-02-19T14:06:00.000-07:00

40 minutes...holy crap
Guess I just wanted to make sure pigs wouldn't actually start flying threw the air.

Role Models

2010-02-18T09:45:00.002-07:00

Today at minute 12, I really wanted to quit. I hadn't even really gotten going and I was starting the rationale in my head. Somedays just aren't for running. But then I started thinking about the Pengelly Double Dip. Its a run that the staff at YHI and I used to organized with the help of some really great people (Kevin Twidwell, Matt and Lisa Hayhurst, Phil Gardner, Kori Johnson, some members of the Pengelly family to mention just a few) anyway, its course happens to go over "two dips" on Mount Sentinel. Its about the length of a half marathon but just adds in the extra enjoyment of running up and down mountains. Needless to say I never ran the thing myself but it was a great event to put on for the Youth Homes. One year a woman with one leg ran it. Yes...the whole course. We were worried about her because it was a rainy muddy day. So we sent Kevin to sweep the course and make sure she was alright. When he found her she was about a mile from the finish and refusing to stop or get any assistant. She was fine. In fact, she was amazing. One leg and one prosthetic. We all waited at the finish for her. She came in last. She came in smiling.

I thought of her at minute 13. I said to myself, "Kim feel your two strong healthy legs...AND MOVE IT."

Ran 28 minutes.

Comparisons

2010-02-16T19:40:00.003-07:00

27 minutes AFTER a car ride (with three children) home from Billings today...I KNOW!...and yeah its cuz I'm from planet Awesome!

I think everyone I know has run a half marathon. No really, I’m completely serious… from the time I started this endeavor five of my friends on Facebook have either run a half or full marathon. AND the bitch of it is they just mentioned it in a status update like no big thing. Something like…

Susie McRunsalot is on her way to her second half marathon this year…hoping to be done in under two hours!

Or

Joe Neverranincollege just finished a marathon in sunny San Diego for a personal best!

While I am extremely happy for these friends and inspired by them too, I am feeling a bit ridiculous with my 25 minute runs. Yes, I admit I’ve fallen into a sea of self-judgment and silly comparisons. Seems like Missoula, Montana is a running “Mecca” and I didn’t even notice before. But once I started thinking about it I spent at least a good twenty five solid minutes (note this is about the timeframe I can currently run) listing names off to my husband of people that have completed this feat. “Well, there’s my friend from high school that is trying to get into the NYC marathon, there’s Chad that never seemed to do anything in college but be sarcastic and drink beer, of course…my old boss, my best friend who runs on the treadmill at 7.2 speed…that’s damn fast…the other day I turned the machine up that fast just to see how fast that was and I thought it was going to start a fire but I digress, there’s that elderly woman down the block, oh and all of my bridesmaids, and our friends in Hamilton that don’t have kids yet and run together in couple bliss, then ALL the women I know at the Y and what about my cousin the ultra runner and of course Kevin the ultra runner…those guys are nuts by the way, oh and my BIG sister…she shouldn’t do anything I can’t do.” MAN.
Needless to say…it seems to me that I have got to stop looking around at what all these other people are doing and just be proud of my own effort…proud of each minute I still fight for on that treadmill in my basement. It’s easier said than done. It’s difficult to accept the things you need to work on and not get indignant some of the time. It’s not easy to avoid the pitfalls of throwing your hands up and the air and saying, "screw it…not for me…who needs it…and so on.” I was struck by this after I read the update on Hannah this week. She’s in a bit of a fog herself right now. She’s going to need to make a decision to accept some things and keep fighting for every minute too.
Her primary Jessica writes:

This past week, Hannah seems to be taking a big step backwards…She is becoming passive aggressive when it comes to rules and expectations. She has yet to complete our assignment sheet, and has started making many excuses on why. She even went so far to be passive aggressive while denying being passive aggressive over this daily struggle. She is choosing to reject staff’s feedback, and is even becoming rude at times. Hannah has said that she is a pessimist during group therapy, and seems to want to be stuck in her ways and is unwilling to change her behaviors.

On the flip side, Hannah also seems to be very needy of staff’s attention. She seems to want to spend time with them, but is unsure how to pursue it. She tends to be a bit awkward and will stand in the same room quietly until she is acknowledged. Or, she will become loud and immature to be the center of attention. Hannah seems to want us to be entertaining her, but when we offer suggestions she is quick to dismiss them.

So once again I humbled by my task in comparison to what's in store for Hannah and am thinking of her everyday...hoping she can find her way.

Grateful for Mom

2010-02-11T14:47:00.006-07:00

My mom was just here for a visit. She can fold a fitted sheet better than anyone I know. In fact, I’d bet she could kick Martha Stewart’s butt in an official fitted sheet folding contest. She doesn’t simple roll it up into some kind of ball type thing and throw it into the closet…no…she folds the sheet with 90 degree corners and straight lines and no evidence of a wrinkle. And she does it with ease. Now, she has tried to teach me the art of folding a fitted sheet over the years with the first lesson at the age of 12. But still at 37, I have not come even close to mastering the technique. My mom is amazing. She can do these things that I cannot and I imagine I won't ever be able to do.

The thing I’ve learned about me and my mom that 's probably not so unique is that I idolize some of the things she does yet no one on earth seems to be able to find my buttons faster. "No mom...really, you don't need to reorganize the pots and pans cabinet. Ahh...do you think we could save the chocolate cookies for the kids until after lunch? Its Asian...not Oriental. Mom... you're mumbling again. No, I DO eat salad now...you must be thinking of me when I was 10. Well, we haven't fully decided on a the vasectomy route yet but...why are we discussing this?" (And YES...these have been exhaggerated to make a point...MY MOM IS A SAINT and happens to read this blog)

As I was saying...a relationship between a mother and daughter is a special complicated thing. In the same minute a mother makes you feel like you are incapable of doing anything right she makes you feel like you can conquer the world. It’s a delicate balance of idolization and complete annoyance. However, the fact remains my mother is my mirror and I hope I grow up to be like her. My kids would be lucky if I’m half the woman she is. And for that…I feel grateful. I also feel grateful my mom is there to try to teach me (among other things) how to fold that damn fitted sheet.

But unfortunately not everyone has a mother that they can hold onto or be guided by. But I know from stories of the kids at the Youth Homes…everyone craves it. I’ve learned Hannah has had a rough road with placements. She is at the group home today because her last placement didn’t work out. And even though this placement didn’t work out…Hannah still has emotions about the last “mom” in her life.

Jessica, her primary staff at the Susan Talbot Girls Home writes:

Hannah has been continuing her transition into Talbot over the past week. The last of her belongings were dropped off, and she had a teary encounter with her last foster mother. Although this was an unhealthy placement, it’s the last “family” Hannah had in a string of many failed placements.

On a positive note, Hannah seems to be starting to accept that there is a family out there that will be a better fit for her. The hope is that she will find the strength to start working on her treatment in order to start towards this possibility. Unfortunately, Hannah has proven to be very distracted from her treatment. School is her social center and the boy talk has begun. Oh how easy it is to get distracted from our bigger goals.

As far as Hannah’s cardios go, she has become consistent on earning them on our elliptical machine. She still dreads having to do them, and usually needs a lot of encouragement to start. We mentioned running outside with her once the weather gets warmer, and she agreed to this plan. After seeing her on the treadmill, a change in “training/workouts” might be the key! With a positive attitude maybe she’ll be willing to try many options, and with more and more encouragement be able to stick to it in order be ready to run a full mile by this summer.

One step at a time…

Trusting the program

2010-02-11T13:51:00.002-07:00

25 freakin’ minutes in a row! I was so excited I scared my daughter with my impromptu burst into song and reenactment of Molly Ringwald’s infamous dance moves of the 80s. No…I’m not kidding…she was spooked. Thank God for no other eye witnesses.

All morning and even a bit of last night I was worried about today’s assignment. Yesterday, when I read the next running time I would need to attempt I thought I must have skipped a step somewhere. Seriously…running with NO walking…ya kiddin me? I mean no breaks whatsoever when it was just this last year that I started to identify with the “gotta go, gotta go” overactive bladder commercials. The instructions even capitalized the word NO as if I was being scolded preemptively for just thinking about taking a break in the middle. So, needless to say, I worried. I wondered. AND I pondered a way to get around it. But then I told myself to trust the program. Trust my body. Yes, MY body. The one I have had no confidence in up until this morning when I did it. And I love my husband, my kids, my friends, my ditto sheet print out of week by week instructions on how to learn to run a 5K but… I DID IT. Until now…I was kinda wondering when I would actually have to show up.

The only bad news…I have to do it again.

I AM RUNNER

2010-02-04T09:44:00.000-07:00

walked 5 minutes
ran 20!
walked 5 minutes

Working my way to 30 minutes in a few more weeks...loving Couch to 5K.
I am runner...I am runner...I am runner... (for you Erin!)

Being UNoriginal can be just fine

2010-02-02T22:00:00.007-07:00

I’m embarrassed to admit I searched for my blog on Google tonight. No matter what I typed in, the results came back with that woman who takes pictures of kids dressed as grown ups giving each other roses and such. You know the photographer…right? She is everywhere. Can’t get away from her. My art website is lost in a sea of Kim Anderson’s cutesy kid calendars and greeting cards. It’s almost as bad as being mistaken for the Kim Anderson of Missoula that puts on the Festival of the Book. I’m sure some of you know her…I’ve never met her but I hear she is wonderful. Sometimes people I know give me credit for her good work. I wonder if she gets any credit for mine? Are you the Kim Anderson that wipes the bottom of a baby every two to three hours? Tell me about your latest pursuit in keeping the bathroom floor clean…fascinating. Now, please don’t get me wrong here. I feel gratitude every day for being lucky enough to get to stay home and actually be with my third child. I missed this time with my first two and while I loved my work as Development Director of the Youth Homes…I can’t get that time back. I’m soaking it up with my third and I’m more available with my first two. So life is pretty great. But let’s be honest. Transitions are the stuff of movies specially made for the Lifetime channel…hard to sit through. So I want to be completely forthcoming…this blog is a selfish pursuit. Its helping me face some insecurities in my head (“wow…you really can’t run a mile?” or “no really Kim…you aren’t that funny” or “Ooohhh, you do have some time on your hands now that you are at home”). But I choose to blow these wimpy thoughts wide open to the five of you that actually are reading this ( “Hey Mom! What's up Dad?") I’m hoping my determination to be a bit courageous with this will hopefully serve the purpose of both giving me my needed motivation to keep moving and letting you all in on what the Youth Homes does for kids. That being said… a good friend reminded me…this blog is largely for me and thus I should not worry if it is doing what I want it to do for you…my (ahem) audience. This theme of transitions will inevitably creep back into this blog from time to time…it’s a big one. Just ask Hannah (see previous post if you need to catch up).

By the way…when I was in need of affirmation that this blog exists in the bigger world…I found MANY references to "Reluctant Runners" out there…including a woman in Canada who is doing a FULL marathon for a charity. Let’s just put that one to bed now…no FULL marathons in my foreseen future largely in part because I feel the blog duties would be too daunting…HA! Besides I can’t bear the thought of being that unoriginal even if I do like the company.

P.S. Let me know you’re out there...become a follower (see bottom of left side bar - shout out to Numero Uno... Kevin!) If you do this…I promise to stay quiet for a few days…shameless bribe technique I perfected in motherhood.

All in Good Time

2010-02-02T12:32:00.011-07:00

Walked 5 minutes,
ran 8,
walked 5 minutes,
ran 10,

walked two minutes… danced an “I survived” victory boogie.

I have been thinking a lot lately about why I haven’t exercised much my whole life. I’m not particularly that uncoordinated (unless attempting the infamous grapevine manuver of circa 1990’s aerobics class…should be outlawed). I don’t hate sports…I even love being a spectator. I DO want to look like my yoga instructor, even though that might not be in the cards, I'd settle for a fitter and more healthier version of myself. All of this didn't change the fact I would have rathered count the number of rocks on the planet than run a mile. So, I'm now wondering WHY that was the case. Why the avoidance?

Oh, I know…it’s the laundry. Most definitely the piles and piles of laundry that keep coming at me like some sick tsunami taking pleasure in pounding me into the surf. But I haven’t always had to do laundry for two adults, two kids and a bouncing baby boy who live with three different colors of dog hair. What gives?

Maybe it’s the artist image thing. Did I have romantic notions of suffering for my craft…way too cool to care about such vain attempts to care for my vessel?...that’s just ridiculous. Doesn't really sound like me either. The fact is everyone knows at some point exercise is the ultimate act of taking care of yourself. The means to obtain a healthier body, yes, but also mind and spirit. So, again, I ask myself why the reluctance?

Oh yeah...I forgot...I AM LAZY. Yes. I do enjoy a good couch session taking in the latest arrival of Netflix and snacks o’ plenty. Quite frankly, it’s why I fell in love with my husband with such ease. You see, although he is one of the athletic types (never met a piece of sporting equipment he doesn’t know what to do with) he is at his absolute best enjoying a lazy afternoon with me. We just fit from day one...bonding over epic trilogies while researching the surprisingly elusive best ever chocolate chip cookie recipe. But more than the absolute devotion to all things spa-like and/or sugar glazed, I honestly think I thought I didn’t need to exercise. Or even to be more to the point… exercising seemed to be something other people needed to feel good about themselves. I, however, thought I could find that through other things. Don’t get me wrong, I still believe you can find activities that enrich your mind and spirit and even body that aren’t considered exercise. Things like…listening to my kid tell a joke...painting…finding new music…reading…and even enjoying the perfect chocolate mousse at Pearl Cafe. But, I guess I’m starting to discover just how powerful it is to invest in myself this specifically and for a purpose of discovery as well as health…very cool. And for me…I’d say it’s about time (even if I move at a snails pace).

So I’m excited to share something new to the blog this week. Shawn Gray and Jessica (a youth care worker) from The Susan Talbot Home for Girls have agreed to send me updates on one particular kid in care…we have changed her name to Hannah to protect her identity. Hannah’s journey in the therapeutic group home will give me the inspiration to keep going on mine. In this week’s edition, I found it interesting that staff say Hannah will need to learn to actually “walk the talk.” She knows what’s healthy but now she is faced with actually having to do it. Yup…sounds familiar.

Here’s what Jessica wrote:

Hannah came to the Talbot Home for Girls from a foster home that just wasn’t working for her. Even though Hannah has struggled for most of her life, coming in and out of different placements, she seems to have been able to keep a positive outlook on life. On the other hand, her multiple placements have resulted in Hannah being able to talk the walk instead of the reverse. It makes you wonder how much she’s been able to learn and understand about herself versus how many people have talked at her. So far, Hannah throws out terms like ‘emotionally absent’ to refer to her last foster mother. She seems to understand the language of treatment, but doesn’t seem to grasp how it’s made its way into her vocabulary.

Hannah may not know this yet, but she is about to start what may be one of the hardest experiences of her life. She will be asked to learn to trust a new therapist, staff members, and residents. This may be one of the most complicated things to expect from Hannah, after her parents and other caregivers did not take care of her. Some even went as far as choosing abuse or neglect. Hannah will also be asked to revisit all of these difficult experiences from her past, and eventually will be asked to share her personal history with everyone involved with her here at Talbot. The hope is that Hannah will find patience, determination, and trust that we are here to help her.

By the way…the staff at Talbot Home for Girls liked the idea of this blog and telling of Hannah’s story so much that Jessica is now starting to run with Hannah. Wow. See below:

At the Talbot Home for Girls, we require the girls to do at least three cardiovascular activities each week. Hannah went into her first cardio thinking the treadmill would be cake. To her surprise, we actually check each girl’s heart rate and expect them to run for twenty five minutes. Hannah was given the suggestion to try and keep up with an older resident who was running next to her. You could see Hannah quickly fatigue when she started holding herself up off the treadmill with her arms. Minutes later, she had closed her eyes and went flying off the back end…

As with learning any new skill, you must have patience and accept guidance from others. Hannah is slowing coming to this understanding, but the road ahead will be challenging. She has realized that the treadmill may not be the best first step, and has decided to go with the elliptical in order to ease her way not only into cardio, but also into treatment.

It will be exciting to see how this goes…stay tuned!

An inconvenient truth…about yoga

2010-01-29T19:44:00.000-07:00

While in yoga today towards the end of class we tried something new. Well, at least it was new to me. We laid back on our shoulders and stuck our legs straight (if possible) up into the air. I was feeling like I could do this new move with ease and then proceeded to push the envelope and bent my legs in some kind of reverse “V” thing that had some name I didn’t catch. I looked around and took stock of how I was doing compared to the more seasoned yoga types in the class…the ones that come religiously and actually know these poses by name. Let us just say I was at least comparable. Everything was going great, I was feeling at peace. Not a real thought in my head…remembering to breathe…deep inhale in…deep exhale out…moving with breathe. Ahhh….yes…very nice…wait, what was that? Did I just hear a...? Did that just happen? It’s just a mere bubble of air leaving the cheeks but for some reason it’s like suffering a blow of humiliation worthy of some taunting middle school memory. I won’t say who exactly perpetrated this unavoidable mishap. Let us just say…a “friend.” My friend must be SO embarrassed. I bet she just wants to get up and leave rather than staying the last agonizing 7 minutes of class to enjoy the most important of poses … “Shavasana” (I know the name of that one because it’s the one where you lay flat on your back not moving at all in pure comfort. I like that one.) And now my friend is going to have to miss it as she makes her swift exit. Maybe if she sneaks out no one will know it was her. No...its unavoidable...the jig is up…she’s caught…now and forevermore labeled, “that one that farts.” People won’t want to put their mat next to hers anymore. It’s really a pity she will never be able to show her face again in this yoga class. She’d better go now. But surprisingly she doesn’t. She stays with the determination of a majestic sequoia. Quiet and at peace with herself. After all, it’s just a bodily function. What’s the big deal? Nothing anyone can claim they have not done. Yet, the embarrassment of publically releasing is somehow unbearable. Imagine yourself at the grocery store letting one loose. How about at church? At a meeting with your kid’s teacher? Just sitting in a chair and slightly leaning to one cheek and letting it fly…the way your Dad did at the dinner table in the days of your youth. No. Can’t be done…it’s not okay to do it with purpose and forethought. But what about on accident…when it can’t be helped? WHY the embarrassment then? Why are we embarrassed by things that come to us naturally?

It got me thinking…is embarrassment of these accidental and only natural stumbles a part of any worthy new journey? And, more importantly, how many more of these unforeseen blunders will I (I mean my friend) have to overcome? Will it, pardon the pun, get even more stinky before it gets less embarrassing?

Gawd…I hope not…for her sake.

Connected

2010-01-28T10:39:00.001-07:00

I have a cousin I don’t know very well. The last time I saw her I was a kid visiting Pennsylvania where my family is originally from. To tell you the truth, I really don’t know any of my cousins very well. We moved to Montana when I was 8 and our families drifted apart the way they do in our modern American lives. Yesterday, my mother called to let me know my cousin’s 17 year old son killed himself. As I said what people say upon hearing that horrific news, “I feel so sorry…we’ll be sure to send our condolences…they’ll be in our prayers”, my thoughts immediately went to that place of gratitude for my children. Then my thoughts drifted to instant worry that they could someday suffer from depression and then onto, “Oh my God… please don’t let anything remotely like this come any closer to me.” Like it’s a contagious thing. I’m ashamed to say tried to put it out of my mind. It kept coming back…the thought of my cousin grieving her son. While watching T.V. the theme of suicide and depression kept coming up, then I turned to a magazine and there it was again, a feature on teen depression. After a night of sleep, I looked forward to my busy day. As I attempted my morning routine, my husband called. He just landed in Seattle for his business trip and there it was again. He was calling to let me know he sat next to a woman that was from Hamilton. They got to talking and discovered how small our world actually is…she is travelling to the funeral today. It turns out she is one of my cousin’s closest friends and I had no idea she existed, let alone that she lives 30 minutes from my house. Strange connections. All of these things are not allowing me to just move onto the next thing on the list to accomplish today but rather actually think about the unimaginable...what if my child suffers from depression someday? How would we cope? Where would we turn? In the case of my cousin’s son the burdens of this world were too much to bear despite his loving family and support system. The fact is children are both resilient and fragile at the same time and finding a good balance between the two is part of growing up human. We love our kids deeply and yet tragedies like my cousins sometimes seem unavoidable. Helping kids navigate the waters of childhood is difficult even without added stresses of family dysfunction, addiction, poverty or even worse. It all makes me more committed to attempting this stupid running regime and now seemingly ridiculous blog in the hopes I can be possibly raise some awareness and money to help the kids at YHI that don’t have much in the way of healthy support to find their way.

My thoughts and prayers go to my cousin Karen and her family.

Got a plan, got sick, gotta wonder

2010-01-25T13:35:00.001-07:00

Since my last post, I looked up "Couch to 5K" and hope that will serve as my "plan" of sorts to reach a goal of running 30 minutes without needing to stop by the end of February. I started this plan a week ago but then I got a nasty head cold that stopped me for a few days. Today, I started again and this week my schedule calls for a stretch of five minutes in a row a couple of times during my 30 minute routine. While I was attempting this feat, my daughter was watching Scooby Doo. Remember how Scooby and Shaggy run? They kinda run in place for a few seconds before they take off from their start position...suspended there in space with a look of panic on their faces. That's kinda how I imagine I look while running my "long" stretches. But I keep thinking if I keep at this, it will get easier. I will actually start to move forward. If I keep trying, maybe even the excuse of a cold won't stop me from the treadmill.

This week I meet with Shawn Gray who is a therapist at Youth Homes. I'm hoping she'll give me some inspiration by telling me about the kids she has in care at the group homes. Selfishly, I need these stories. I need some momentum. Something to get me moving forward instead of just up and down. I'm wondering if some of the kids at the Youth Homes might feel like even though they're ready to start, they can't quite move forward yet. Just suspended in the air...everything frozen except their legs running in place...just wondering if they will actually start to move.

A Plan

2010-01-20T15:48:00.001-07:00

Just got off the treadmill and I am reflecting on an earlier conversation I had with Chris Carey (Youth Homes employee and exercise guru). Chris asked what my plan was for training. I responded with a jolt of anxiety and answered that I had not really thought it out yet. Then promptly jumped on the treadmill (which I needed to plug in, removed toys from and actually find the power button). I then started from what I will now refer to as “ground zero.” Walking at first…feeling good, listening to tunes, watching over children in front of the electronic babysitter. I got this. I’m not THAT out of shape. I can totally do this. I mean that’s what people have been telling me. And then I attempted the run. Not bad…going at a 3.5 speed, made it through one whole song…then maybe a quick break. I just need an adjustment. Maybe a bathroom break. Then back to it! I’ll hit it strong now…up to a 4…found one of the greatest rock and roll songs of all time in the playlist, “I want you to want me” by Cheap Trick (I don’t care who you are, you have GOT to move to that one.) Then half way through the song, a small side cramp, dry lips, out of breath…AND we’re walking again. Maybe if I keep my mind off it. I start to run again. I found my imagination wondering. Now I’m fantasizing about random things…anything to keep my mind off of being in my basement on this damn contraption. First, I’m a bad ass rock star. Okay, quickly moving onto something a bit more believable. Maybe some kind of Olympic athlete in a rare and completely impossible sport to master…I am SO cool. Then onto inventing something to wear…some kind of apparatus to firmly hold things on my body I was previously and blissfully unaware that shake so I can keep my concentration on my pace. Hmmmm…a plan you say.

So it begins...dusting off the treadmill

2010-01-19T16:57:00.002-07:00

http://www.youthhomes.com/

So I’m going to do something kinda nuts. I’m committing to something I have no experience with…no practice at and not a lot confidence that I can complete it. I am going to do something I’ve never attempted before and had no reason to try. I’m going to test my patience, my tolerance for pain and my character. I’m going to want to give up. I’m going to need support.
I’m going to run a half marathon in July and I’m doing it in honor of a kid at Youth Homes. Some kid I haven’t met and probably never will. I’m doing this because I can’t come up with any more excuses. I’m doing it because I am in awe of what this kid I have never met will need to do to survive.

This kid will need to wake up each morning and fight their urge to self medicate with drugs or alcohol. They will feel small and alone and need to build themselves up with little or no support from family. They will need to fight demons of past history from memories of abuse, neglect and family conflict. At age 4, 9, 15, 12, 17 ½ …they will need to overcome self abuse, self hatred, insecurity, chemical dependency, rape, incest, hunger, poverty, mental illness, ignorance, and negative role models that they happen to love deeply. And the amazing thing is they do overcome these things (or learn how to deal with them) with time, practice, self determination, love and support.

So, at age 37 I can no longer crack jokes about being “40 something” because I see it around the corner. After three kids, I have three real big reasons to get healthier. As I contemplate how hard it is to run 5 minutes in a row after a lifetime of never really (not kidding) exercising into a full sweat, I know it pales in comparison to what kids struggle with each day as they try to get healthier with the odds against them. Knowing the odds are against me too…no time, weak bodied and weaker mindset…I will do this, largely in part, because I know you will help me get it done. If I have your support, then that kid will have our support.
As some of you know, I used to work at Youth Homes as the Development Director. I resigned from that position after 8 years to be home with my family and practice art. In the last week of the job this happened:

A therapist on staff at Youth Homes just paid me a visit in my office. She just got a kid back. This kid had been “on run” for almost a year. The girl… I’ll call her Becky, chose to run away because she feared having to go back to live with her family that represented conflict and pain in her life. At the same time, Becky longed to be home with her family but worried that the expectation of being home in a healthy environment wouldn’t actually happen. Seems like she almost felt if she got “too healthy” they might reject her. She also chose to live on her own terms instead of dealing with the restrictions and guidance she received in a group home. She started to listen to her own rationale again instead of her head and heart and maybe she just wanted to see if she could live by her rules instead of what she knew in her gut was a healthier path. Often “healthier” means a difficult road ahead. It’s strange how we sometimes choose physical pain over emotional work but it happens all the time.

Becky is now seventeen and has a tremendous amount of all kinds of pain. It turns out, the last year of her life produced fear, physical abuse, risky behavior and decisions that lead to a young life almost wiped out. She spent time with pimps, drug dealers and even in hospitals. She was degraded and neglected. She was left on the side of the road. She was 16. Don’t forget she is someone’s baby. Yet she was alone. Becky was looking for freedom and days without having to wake up and decide to actively choose to not do drugs, work hard at school and look to a future. A major issue that often causes this confusion in a kid facing hard work is a lack of a foundation….nothing to build on. No one to draw guidance from… No ability to reach inside and turn up anything but emptiness… And here goes the similar themes we hear time and time again with the kids at Youth Homes. One parent died violently when she was young. Another made horrendous parenting mistakes to the point of losing custody. Both parents suffered similar if not the same fate they handed down to Becky consisting of lack of education, affliction of poverty, drug use at an early age, unspeakable abuse and the list goes on. And that’s just it….it often keeps going on.

The only hope I’ve seen as a common dominator in this mess of human suffering is that people are mostly good. They want better even when all odds are against them and they seem to never be able to make a good choice. People dream of happiness…all of us do. As for Becky, she was lucky to have good people trying (sometimes desperately) to convince her she deserved this happiness. Becky had Youth Homes. She spent what she describes as the most stable and happy time in her life in a group home in Missoula, MT. There she received challenging therapy, a drug free home and a network of caring role models as well as “siblings” to share experiences.
The silver lining in this heartbreaking story is that Becky learned her worth at the group home. I know this because she showed it while on run. You may ask, “Where is the success in her story?”

Well, here it is…in between putting herself in situations you see on television dramas or shutter at the thought of as you read a newspaper headline, she reached out to the staff she trusted the most. She would email and then they would hear nothing. Then a few months later she would call and then nothing again. And then just last month (May 2009) she bravely asked to come home. She wasn’t sure they’d take her back. But she knew she deserved more. She knew she needed a better life. She knew she wouldn’t last much longer on her own. She knew she was disposable to the people she was with and not to the people here. She made a choice and finally it was a good one.

This of course is not the end of her story. I have hope that she will “make it.” I have hope she will know in her head, heart and gut that she is worthy of a good and happy life. I guess only time will tell but I do know she was here today with her therapist. She smiled at me and said “I’m doing okay” when I asked her the common question, “How are you?” Funny how when I asked her that I had no idea what this young lady had been though. But I heard something in her voice that stopped me. I’m pretty sure it was relief mixed with regret but most importantly …a little bit of hope.

So I’m asking you to join me with the Youth Homes Run 4 Kids team and run or walk the half or whole marathon on July 11, 2010. If you can’t do that, please give a donation. I need to raise $500 (although I’d like to raise more) and I would love your support. I will have a first giving web page coming in the next couple of months so I will be in touch if you don’t join the team yourself. Last year the whole team raised over $60,000. I’d like to help them raise even more this year. For me the raising the money is not the scary part…it’s the running. I need to run at least 4 or 5 days a week. To some that amount of exercise is nothing, kinda like waking up in the morning feeling safe, happy and content. But I remember kids like Becky wake up feeling scared, worried about how to take the next step and most of all…alone. Please join me…I need the support and the kids it will benefit need it too. Contact me at kimandersonart@yahoo.com if you are interested in joining the team and I’ll get you connected. For those of you that care about running…the Missoula Marathon was just given Runner’s World Readers choice of Best Overall Marathon…pretty cool.

I agreed to “blog” about my experience with this. Wowza…I know…another blog in the world. But I promise I will fill you in on how a kid is doing in the Youth Homes each time and hope to make it relevant to you and your support in this endeavor. Also, I will make it MUCH shorter than this initial plea (I need time to run for God’s sake). Please consider passing this blog address on to others and bookmark it for future reference. I will plan on updating it through the big day in July!

Thanks for your consideration and all my best,

Kim