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