The Finish and The Beginning

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

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

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

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

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

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"

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.