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.

63,360 Feet

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?

“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

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

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

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

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...

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

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

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

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

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.