I will get the basal cell carcinoma removed. Hopefully for good. Once they are sure they have it all, they will schedule me for a follow up appointment in a few months. I’m nervous…I’m stressed…but a part of me just wants this to be done with.
They are also going to look to make sure they don’t see any other spots. Here’s hoping I walk out of there free and clear of skin cancer.
Tomorrow.
Good thoughts are appreciated. Ice cream too. Ice cream is always appreciated.
And once again, I offer this friendly reminder to all my friends who spend a lot of time outdoors. Wear sunscreen. Wear a hat. Cover up. A little bit of prevention takes a whole lot of worry out of life. And a life with less worries and less stress is a much happier one. Be careful out there in the sun, my friends.
It’s amazing the lessons you learn through life. Every day brings a new discovery, a new chance to improve on something, a lesson that needed to be learned, and everything in between.
Last week, I revealed that I was diagnosed with (granted) the most common form of skin cancer. And while it is “common”…the fact that I had a nurse tell me I had any form of cancer broke my spirit. It hurt. It bothered me. I didn’t let on…but when the reality of it struck…it really threw me off my game. I no longer felt centered. I was no longer focused.
What I had to do was strive to regain my equilibrium. And I worked on doing that, staying positive, and focusing on something that truly made me happy. My running. Thank goodness for my training plan because it is keeping me accountable and keeping my mind off of things.
This was my second official week of marathon training and I was already looking forward to some of the scheduled days I had in front of me.
Sunday I went out for an easy run. It was Father’s Day, so I dedicated 7 miles to my dad. I called him later to tell him that, and that, ironically, I managed my fastest 7 miles to date without even trying. And that the last mile of it was spent carrying a bag that had some almonds and an avocado in it, as I stopped by the grocery store while I was out. Yes…I am that runner.
Monday morning meant I was back to the running in the dark. I am continuing to fuel and hydrate according to the instructions that my sports nutritionist laid out for me and have been quite successful with that. I have, however, discovered that I hate my hand-held water bottle. I carried it with me on the shorter runs and just found it annoying. But I don’t feel like wearing my fuel belt with water bottles on the shorter distances either. But I need the hydration in order to follow the plan that she has laid out for me to guarantee my body will function right and properly under race conditions when I get to my marathon. So…I carry the handheld bottle. And hate it. Monday morning was a scheduled 5 miles at an easy pace. I keep reminding myself that I don’t have to race every run I do, which is a huge problem for me. So, I often have to remind myself to slow down and take it easy. It really is important. So, I did the scheduled miles…then later that evening did an even easier run through the hills of Cherokee Park with my Monday fun run group. It was good. And I had a great conversation about my marathon from someone who has run it 6 times as well as other marathons I might want to look at in the future. It was a good Monday.
Tuesday was the scheduled cross training day. I’m so not used to waking up without going running, so this day usually throws me off. I did 45 minutes on the Arc Trainer with hill intervals and on Level 5 and really rocked it out. I was proud of myself. Then I hit up the Cardio Wave machine for 10 minutes, which is like an elliptical machine, except that your feet move from side-to-side and instead of moving forward and back. It is a welcome change for the legs. While it is only 10 minutes, I worked it hard, upping my resistance and speed every minute. It really works up a sweat.
Wednesday is the speed work and pacing day. And this week was fartlek week. Five miles worth. Now, I attempted fartleks once before…but didn’t properly warm up and ended up with a nagging pain in my ankle/calf muscle for about 2 weeks. This time, I used my first mile as a warm up and ran the fartleks the remaining 4 miles. For those of you not familiar with the term, fartleks are where you alternate irregular fast and slow intervals, either by time or by markers on the course you choose to run. As I run in the early morning when it is dark out, I couldn’t really keep track on my watch, so I chose different places to speed up and run through and then other places to ease back into an easy pace. I ended up breaking a 5 mile PR by an entire minute. Maybe there is something to this speed play stuff. I had a great and fun run that morning. It was nice to change things up.
Thursday rolled around and that was another easy run day. This time it called for 6 miles. So, I went out and logged those, once again reminding myself that I don’t need to race on these runs. I took it easy, and ran at a decent pace for me…and finished strong. I’m trying to work on that finishing kick…but I still usually don’t have the ooomph at the end of a run, no matter the distance, to really kick it into high gear. I’m hoping my speed work days will help with that in the end. After that, I hit up the gym for some cardio and strength training. I felt strong that morning. It was a good feeling.
Friday…the day of rest. I dread Friday for this reason. It is not easy for me to take a day off of running. I get antsy and fidgety. But, rest days are important for the muslces, the body, and the soul. Honestly, it gives the body a chance to repair itself. These days are vital when in training because these days help the muscles build up strength. I know that sounds weird, but with each workout you fatigue your muscles and giving them a day off means they repair themselves and grow stronger. And I definitely want to be a stronger runner. So, once again, I respected the rest day and kept it holy. I did opt for an easy walk at the gym on my lunch hour. Nothing strenuous.
Saturday is the day of the long run at the Long Slow Distance (LSD) pace. I am so lucky to have fallen in with a group of runners who have taken me in and are able to take me on new routes and new runs on these longer running days. I was really getting tired of looping my neighborhood. BORING! I met up with a great group of people on Saturday morning and we logged my 11 mile training run in 1:36:10. I was talking with one of the runners, someone who has just logged his 32nd marathon in his life, and he was telling me the importance of these runs being taken at a slower, easier pace. It does help build up strength and speed in the end. Just like rest days. There will be those days where my training calls for Marathon Pace…but on these LSD days…I try to honor that longer slower distance. I was so happy to have the company and the conversation on the long run. It made the time fly by and the effort feel effortless. Loving it. I finished strong too. Already looking forward to doing it again next weekend.
So, overall, not a bad training week at all. I already see in the next few weeks, due to events and appointments, where I will need to tweak my training schedule, but I’m so happy with how this week went. I am definitely focusing more on feel and my body. I used to put so much emphasis on time, and a part of me still does, but through the training and through learning from other seasoned runners, I am discovering that the pace will find you at the race itself…you train right, and you’ll be ready to run one of the best races of your life. Train too hard…and you get burnt out or injured. And that is the last thing I want to have happen. So, training smart and keeping my mileage and my pace in proper check.
Loving every run. So that means I must be doing something right.
I am not sure if or how my procedure will affect my program, but I will find out on Wednesday when I go in. The most important thing right now is to remain positive and do what is right for me and my body. And right now…it’s getting rid of the basal cell carcinoma, healing, and having that weight lifted off my shoulders. I’m going to keep on smiling.
If I may have your attention for a moment for this sobering…serious…and rather important blog. Please. I’ll only take up a moment of your time. And I will start by butchering the first part of a famous advice dispensed by Mary Schmich, published in 1997 in the Chicago Tribune. It goes something like this:
Ladies and Gentlemen…Readers of my blog…
Wear sunscreen. If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience…I will dispense this advice now…
Wait for it…
I have skin cancer.
I was diagnosed with the most common form of skin cancer – Basal cell carcinoma.
Basal cell carcinoma is a slow-growing form of skin cancer. Skin cancer falls into two categories – nonmelanoma and melanoma. This particular form is a type of nonmelanoma skin cancer. It is also the most common form of cancer in the United States.
Basal cell carcinoma starts in the top layer of the skin, normally in an area that is regularly exposed to sunlight or other ultraviolet light. Mine…appeared on my right temple. And to be honest…I have had it for a long, long time.
For years now, I have had this pink bump on my right temple, which I can’t even remember when it first appeared, but I have honestly had it for ages. It looked like a zit. And that’s what I thought it was. Every now and again, I’d scratch it and it would open up…then heal. So it never really went away. And, for some reason, I never found this to be odd. Not once did I question it. Why should I? I’m 32 years old. I’m good about wearing hats and putting on sunscreen.
But…that’s the thing. I wasn’t always good about it. Growing up, I had quite a few bad sunburns…all of which were of my own error…like swimming for six hours in the heat of the day without sunscreen. Forgetting to reapply sunscreen after toweling off at the pool, lake, or ocean. Those happened so long ago. As I got older, I got better about it…because sunburns hurt.
But this form of cancer is very common in people with light-colored or freckled skin (I have both); people with blue, green or gray eyes (I have green), people with blond or red hair (I’m a blond); and people who had many severe sunburns early in life (raises hand). Among others…but I fit the bill with all of those.
So…what made me decide to get this spot checked out?
An article. A simple article about skin cancer in a recent issue of Family Circle, a magazine that randomly started showing up in my mailbox. I almost threw it away, but decided to page through it, in case it had some good recipes inside or something. I stopped at a few articles, and the one on skin cancer caught my attention. It described the different types of skin cancer and the ways you can tell if you are at risk or might need to get checked out. The description of the Basal cell carcinoma sounded just like the spot that was on my right temple. I decided to be proactive about it and ask about it when I went in to see my doctor that following week to get a physical checkup and an okay to start training for my first marathon. After getting a clean bill of health and the okay to proceed with training, I asked about the spot. My doctor said it looked like a cyst, but to be safe she’d get me set up with a local dermatologist and have him look at it.
On June 11th, I went into the dermatologists office for my appointment. He took one look at it and said it looked like it was a small Basal cell carcinoma, but he’d do a biopsy on it just to be certain. They numbed me and performed the biopsy right there. Bandaged me up. Sent me on my way saying they would have the results in 10 days.
They called me back that Friday and confirmed that the biopsy results came back as a positive for Basal cell carcinoma. I was assured that this was very treatable and that I would be coming in in two weeks to have a procedure performed that would remove the cancerous cells. Then, in three months, I’ll come back and they will make sure nothing is has returned.
I think I went into a bit of shock that morning with the news. It was early, so very few people were at my office. I held it together, surprisingly. I didn’t say a word of it to anyone, except my roommate. And for the rest of the day, I tried not to focus on it, worry about it, or think too much about it. I got through the day, surprisingly well.
But the weight of it hit me on Saturday morning at my race in Frankfort, Kentucky. I cried twice before the race even began. Then I cried again at the finish line. I used the race as a chance to clear my head…to leave my demons behind and focus on the next step…defeating it. I wasn’t going to let cancer run this body. Only I run this body. It was an emotionally draining time in Frankfort, but I managed to keep it together after those three breakdowns.
So…when I say…wear sunscreen…please take my advice.
I religiously wear sunscreen. If I am going out for a run, not only am I slapping on sunscreen, but I’m donning a hat with a brim. I’m wearing sunglasses with UV protection. I’ve done this from the very start. But…here I sit…telling my friends, my family, my fellow readers that I…a girl who hides from the sun, who runs early to avoid it, who hasn’t had a bad sunburn since high school…that I have skin cancer. It hurts. It stings. It confuses me because I hide from the sunlight. I try to take every step to prevent this. And then…it hits me anyway.
Cancer.
But…the most treatable form. And that…is the blessing…the silver lining in all of this.
On June 26th, I return to my dermatologist office to get treated for this cancer. If all goes well, they’ll get it cleaned out and me on the road to recovery in no time. I’m hoping for that. It’s not an easy place for me right now. I’m scared…which I hate…because no one likes to hear the word “cancer” when it comes to their body. This diagnosis comes with demons that I am now trying to shake off, leave behind, and never have darken my doorstep again. I am lucky to have people who are supporting me with good thoughts, prayers, and a whole lot of understanding.
My dearest family, friends, and readers…please…wear sunscreen. Don’t just stop at sunscreen. If you are going to be out in the sun, prevention has to go further than that. Even if you don’t intend to be outside for a long time, put that sunscreen on. Even if it is overcast…put that sunscreen on. Make sure you apply a good amount to all exposed areas, including your ears. Do NOT miss your temples near your hairline. Make sure your sunscreen blocks both UVA and UVB light. Make sure it is waterproof…all you runners, swimmers, walkers and hot-weather haters. Apply the sunscreen 30 minutes before you go outside and make sure you reapply. Do this even in the winter time. The dangers of UVA and UVB lights do not disappear when cold weather creeps in. Wear hats to keep the top of your head and your face protected from sunlight. Cover up. Most running clothes do come with some sun protection, but in those hot summer months, sometimes putting on an extra layer of clothing doesn’t sound good. I run in my sports bra…so I make sure I slather on sunscreen.
What it comes down to is…you can be so careful about sun exposure…and still wind up in a situation from me. I’m asking you to take this experience…this advice…and make sure that this doesn’t happen to you as well. If you are out in the sun a lot…if you have spots on your skin that are of some concern…go to a dermatologist. Do not put it off for years like I did. I didn’t know…but I’m hoping my story will help you become more aware…maybe take actions of your own to prevent this from happening to you.
What you do with any of this advice is up to you. Keep it in the back of your mind. Start to apply it to your own life. You can do whatever you wish…but as the speech says at the very end…
It has been a long, crazy, hectic, and draining week for me as I started my official training program for the Chicago Marathon. But I was totally excited to get it underway. It officially started last week…exactly…on Sunday, June 9th. It was…a rest day. Naturally. But I used that time wisely and started taking some steps that I hope will only better my training and my running in the long run.
That morning, I met up with a sports nutritionist. After getting a good physical report back from my check-up at the doctor and the okay to start marathon training as I was in very good health…I had inquired about talking with a sports nutritionist because…well…I am horrible when it comes to fueling and hydrating while on the run. And I wanted to go into this training doing everything possible to do right by my body. And that meant learning to fuel it properly before, during, and after running.
The problem was…we couldn’t find a sports nutritionist in this area. Strange, as we have the University of Louisville, which has a great sports program, right here. But…nope. Nothing. On a whim, I contacted Ken Combs Running Store and they put me in touch with one. Her name is Donna…and she’s awesome. She’s just like me – a gluten-free, vegetarian, long distance runner. She said she wasn’t taking on new clients at the time, but given my circumstances, she would definitely take me on.
In our first meeting she spoke to me about the importance of fueling my body correctly…not just on race day, but during the entire time I’m in training. This meant changing the way I looked at food…nutrition info…and changing up how I ate. We laid out a plan, which involved me drinking 16 ounces of water before heading out for a run, and getting something in my stomach. Prior to that, I would run my mornings on an empty stomach and not even bring water with me. I’d just go run. Worry about the rest when I got back. She emphasized how important it was to get something in my stomach so that my body is feeding off of the fuel rather than taking away from my muscle strength. It made sense. She’s moving me more towards a clean eating diet as well, which means less processed foods (aka: bad carbs) and more natural foods (aka: good carbs). And she is having me hydrate and fuel while out on every training run. This means not just water…but Gatorade to with giving my body electrolytes, sodium, and potassium that is lost while running…and giving an energy boost to the muscles with the carbohydrates it offers too. Fuel. I am also to take a GU or Sports Beans packet every 3-4 miles (about every 30 minutes) to really train my body to take in fuel while I’m on the run. It all made sense…so I vowed to start doing it.
I learned a lot from her and we’ll be meeting up again in a couple of months to see how I am progressing.
My charity group that I am running the Chicago Marathon with, Team Healthy Kids – part of Action For Healthy Kids, sent me a training program for my marathon training. I had one originally, but after looking at it, I felt that the mileage was too low. I’d been running 35-40 miles a week, and was being dropped down to half that. I contacted them to see about getting it changed up. They said that since this was my first marathon, they put me on the beginner plan, but they saw my point and moved me to the intermediate one. That being said, my first run happened on Monday morning.
Five miles…and it was raining. I heard the rain when I woke up that morning. But I didn’t make plans to head to the gym to hit the treadmill. I got dressed, laced up my shoes, grabbed my reflective gear and headed out the door. Marathons happen in all sorts of weather and as long as there was no lightning…I was hitting the roads. I noticed that Cathy had placed a sign up on the door. It had words of encouragement on it. And in marker she wrote me a message. I love that she is so supportive of my running and really is making sure I do my training as well. It means less time to do other things, but she seems willing to take on the sacrifice as well at times. The sign was the encouragement I needed. Monday morning…5 miles at an easy pace completed…in the rain. I felt really badass! I hated my time, but as the run specifically was meant to be done at an easy pace, I focused more on the pacing than the time.
Tuesday was my Cross Training day. I hit up the gym for a 45 minute session on the Arc Trainer, set to the hill setting. That was tough, but I got through it. Then I put myself through 10 minutes on the rowing machine. My arms were tired and sore from doing a yoga DVD on Sunday night…but I got through it and moved down to the weight room for some strength training.
Wednesday was supposed to be my 6 mile run in the morning, but…I was running a 10K on Saturday…when I was supposed to be running 9 miles long. So, I flip-flopped those days. On Wednesday, I spent my wee morning hours knocking out 9 miles in some pretty crazy humidity. I fueled every three miles and took Gatorade for hydration for the first time…since the Chicago Half Marathon. It all settled fine in my stomach and I finished the run feeling good. I was proud of myself.
Thursday meant it was Speed/Pacing day. And the schedule called for a 4 mile tempo run. A tempo run, for those of you who might not be familiar with the term, is simply running at a quicker pace than the easy pace, but at about 15 seconds slower than your 10K time. I managed to actually hold a rather steady tempo on my run, despite throwing in some hills to make it a bit tougher. I came out of that one surprised. Especially since I was also dealing with 15 mph winds that morning as well.
Friday…was the day of rest. I respected it and kept it holy.
Saturday was race day. I was participating in the Capital City Stampede 10K…which is why I moved my 6 mile run to Saturday. It just sort of…worked out that way. I went to the race, knocked it out with a new PR, and had a great time running. Races make me happy…but they are about to take a back seat to my training sessions.
And that rounded out my first official week of training for the Chicago Marathon. At the end of it…I feel good. I’m ready for this coming week where I work on my fueling, rehydration, and pace/speed as well. I have a goal…and I’m working hard to reach it. And…I have to say, I am very proud of myself for going out there on my first official day of training in the rain.
All-in-all…a draining, but very exciting week for me. On to the next…
Wow…100 posts in my running blog. What a milestone. When I set out to write about my race experiences, my training, my injuries, my day-to-day struggles with running…I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. But, the fact is, I’ve quite enjoyed this journey. Since starting this blog, I have accomplished so much in my running. With 100 posts behind me…I am eagerly anticipating the rest of this year and seeing where my running shoes, my legs, and my spirit take me.
That being said…tonight after work, I am hopping a flight out of town (just as Kentucky Derby weekend kicks off, so this was amazing timing!) and heading up to Minneapolis, Minnesota. Why? Well…to visit my grandpa (yes…the man, the myth, the legend…my running hero and inspiration), my aunt, my cousins, and one of my besties (Heather!!), of course. But another reason is…to run in a half marathon that my grandpa has run.
That half marathon…
The Lake Minnetonka Half Marathon.
Grandpa and me in our race shirts in summer 2011 – his is a Lake Minnetonka Half Marathon shirt.
He talked a lot about this race when I was visiting him for his 90th birthday almost two years ago. In fact, he suggested we take pictures in race shirts, so I grabbed the one I had from my furthest distance race at that time (it was a 5 miler…I was recovering from injury at the time and heading into my first half marathon – Chicago – that September) and he grabbed his Lake Minnetonka Half Marathon race shirt. I don’t remember what year he ran it…but look for yourself at the picture. It makes me smile…just thinking that I’m actually following in his footsteps on this one. He talked a lot about this race. Raved about it…so I knew…I knew it had to be one of the ones I ran in Minnesota.
Of course, nothing is easy when it comes to traveling for a race. On May 1, 2013, Minnesota had snow dumped on it. Like…massive amounts of snow. SNOW! It’s MAY! So, with no clue how to even dress for this race I’m packing a little of everything and will make a game time decision on the official race attire.
As for now, I’m eagerly anticipating my packet pick-up tomorrow morning, seeing my grandpa, perhaps talking a little with him about the race. I looked at the elevation chart and their seems to be quite a few hills. That’s okay…I’m learning to embrace the torture of hills. My focus, of course, is on finishing. As it should be.
So…while most eyes in my town will be glued to the track at Churchill Downs, my feet are going to be carrying me from Wayzata, Minnesota down to Excelsior, Minnesota. I couldn’t be happier about it. I’m really looking forward to having a great time in Minnesota…with family…with friends…and with the runners who are taking on the Lake Minnetonka Half Marathon with me on Sunday.
Yesterday marked a full week since the senseless bombing of the Boston Marathon. I would be lying to you if I sat here and said that I wasn’t affected. As human beings, all of us were, in some way, touched by what happened near that finish line.
Boston is about 970 miles away from Louisville, Kentucky. But the instant I heard about those explosions at the marathon, it felt like my own world was falling apart. It’s hard to explain the wave of emotions that I’ve been feeling over the past week. This tragic event literally took my legs out from under me. I couldn’t watch the news, but I wanted to be informed. I cried so much this past week, fought back tears when I had to, and just couldn’t get the events at Boston off my mind or my heart. I was heartbroken over what occurred.
I am the granddaughter of a marathoner. That running bug must have skipped a generation, but I caught it. And I have never stopped falling in love with the simple act of running. In fact, if it’s even possible, in the two years I have been running, I might have learned to love this sport more than anything else I have ever done. More than my art, my photography, and yes…even my cooking. There is something so primitive, but so empowering about a run.
It’s not to say every run is a good run, but let’s face it…there are more good runs than bad runs. And a bad run is just another reason to get up the next day and try it again. It doesn’t stay bad forever.
Neither do life changing events. The bombing of the Boston Marathon, for me, was life changing. I know I wasn’t there…but my heart and soul were. It’s hard to explain what I mean, but as a runner who aspired to one day be fast enough to qualify for this race (my grandpa never had the chance to run it, but he always wanted to), a part of me was there, with the runners, with the crowd. Cheering the elite. Cheering those that came after them. The spirit of a runner is unbridled, and where there is a race, a part of each of us are there…carried in the hearts, minds, and the soles (get it?) of each runner there. Whether they know it or not…we are with them. We’re part of this tightly-knit group, and while we don’t know everyone out there who thinks like us and finds joy in the act of running, we know they are out there. And every race that runs is proof of that.
The Boston Marathon…is the crème de la crème of marathons. It has a deep tradition to upkeep, and a history that is like no other race out there. And, on April 15, 2013, at 2:50 p.m., explosions tore through the finish area. And the Boston Marathon was brought to a halt. And with it…the world of every runner who was either there, or watching, or following online…stopped with it.
970 miles between Louisville and Boston.
And something great emerges from the ashes. Something that the running community here in Louisville really, really needed.
You see, the owner of Fleet Feet Louisville, Jeff Wells, was at Boston. He had crossed the finish line about 30 minutes before the blasts went off. In fact, he was on his way back to his hotel, near the site of the second explosion, when it all went down. His story is moving…and inspiring. And what Jeff did when he returned to Boston was start to share his story. And from that…a movement grew.
He said it countless times in interviews. “We are unstoppable.”
Three simple words, that I really needed to hear. The Boston Marathon might have been stopped…but we, the running community, are unstoppable.
From there, a movement began. Jeff began to talk to the other four running stores in the area…his competitors in sales…but his brothers on the road. Blue Mile, Swags, Pacers and Racers, Ken Combs…they all began talking and putting together this idea…of taking their running groups for a run to commemorate the victims of the bombings at the Boston Marathon. All proceeds raised from the run would benefit Boston’s The One Fund.
It was brilliant. And the entire Louisville running community was bolstered by the very idea of having such an event. The initial plan was to meet at Waterfront Park, and for 26.2 minutes, run, pausing at 6:26 p.m. for a moment of silence for the victims of the Boston Marathon bombing. The run would happen on the newly opened pedestrian bridge. Any and all levels were welcome. Runners, walkers…whoever wanted to be a part of the event…and help make a donation toward The One Fund.
The event, however, got too big. And with Derby season in full swing here in Louisville, the city couldn’t get us a permit for such a large gathering. Subsequently, the event was cancelled. The stores still planned to do their memorial runs…but from each respective store…and that would be that.
But Jeff wasn’t giving up. He talked to the other stores, and what they came up with was the best alternative and what culminated into one of the most moving moments of my life. The five local running stores all agreed to leave from their respective stores, or from a meeting place for those further away (they chose the bathrooms at Seneca Park) to run into Cherokee Park and come together at Hogan’s Fountain at 6:26 to observe a moment of silence for what happened in Boston.
I met up with my Monday running group at BlueMile…and soon the store was overflowing with runners and walkers who were looking to participate in the event. Cathy accompanied me…with a cowbell that she tied up with blue and yellow yarn (the colors of the BAA), and a sign that the two of us worked on for her to hold at the event. Let’s face it…Cathy is one of the best when it comes to crowd support at races…with cowbell and sign always in hand. She left early to drive up to Hogan’s Fountain and get situated. She was the first one there. She had her sign. And soon…people started finding her.
My group left BlueMile about 15 minutes before the meetup, giving people time to run up the hill to Hogan’s Fountain and catch their breath before the moment of observance for Boston. A local news crew was out, and the BlueMile group was filmed on their trek up to Cherokee Park. The climb up the hill felt somewhat easier than usual. And when we reached the top…when Hogan’s Fountain was in view…there was a sea of humanity gathered around. Media was there, taking pictures and filming, and runners were mingling and talking.
I spotted Cathy near the fountain and ran over to talk to her and a few other runners nearby. Soon, Jeff arrived with the Fleet Feet group. I finally was able to give him a hug. It was one of the best hugs ever. I felt…better. Then, the five running store owners came together to say a few words. The prelude to the 6:26 moment of silence was given by the man in charge of Team Sweaty Sheep, a Christian group of athletes (runners, walkers, bikers), who said a few words than encouraged everyone to take a moment to reflect on Boston. And with that…the hundreds of runners, walkers, and bikers…fell silent. All I could hear was the shutter of a camera nearby. And that stopped a second later. Silence.
It’s hard to explain what I felt in that moment. A wave of emotion just swept over me. My shoulders shuddered a little as a few silent tears fell. I drew in a deep breath, and my heart felt…lighter. And, after a minute passed, we were sent off to do what we do best. Run.
I felt better. All last week, my emotions were all over the place. I would run sad, run angry, run to break away, run to feel…something. This time…in the cool spring breeze, in the sunshine that was shining down through the trees in Cherokee Park…I smiled. I hadn’t found joy in my run since the bombings occurred. I felt like the darkness was leaving. I felt…lighter. I ran 3.25 miles that night…back up the hill to Hogan’s Fountain to meet up with Cathy. I ran them easy. No need for speed. I needed to reflect, feel, and more importantly…smile again.
That small moment of time meant the world to me. I am so proud to have been a part of that gathering. I needed to be. Because, I have been scrambling to come to terms with the senseless act of violence at the Boston Marathon. I said it before…had I been running…my friends, my family, my roommate (and biggest fan), could have been standing right there. It’s a fact that isn’t lost on me. It is a fact that I am constantly reminded of whenever a replay of those explosions comes onto the news.
It can be a scary world out there…but we’re runners. And what Jeff said was true…
We are unstoppable.
When runners get knocked down, they get back up. They keep going. When runners can’t get back up…other runners carry them. It’s what we do. When we have no strength left…we somehow find it. Deep inside us. It’s there. And it’s that strength that is going to see us through these hard times. It’s that strength that sends us out to races still. The organizer of the Super Sprint Triathlon I participated in on Sunday said something else that resonated with me. He said that our participation and our simple act of being at the event showed that we would not be bullied. Runners are strong. They have to be…especially distance runners. It’s mind over matter.
Some wounds take time to heal. I’m not saying I’m whole again, but I’m on the mend. No longer is my spirit broken, because my soul is that of a runner. And when the road seems long and the miles ahead endless…I just keep going. I keep pushing. I find my strong. I pick up my feet, I set my gaze ahead, and I overcome.
That’s what happened in Louisville on Monday night at 6:26 p.m. We all came together…for whatever reasons we were drawn there…and we showed Boston our love and hope for the future of their city and the Boston Marathon. We made donations to their charity. We put in miles…some of us for the first time in years. And, we came away from it changed. Events like this change you…whether you were there or not. When you are part of such a tightly knit community like the running community…the ties that bind are so much more than the laces on your shoes.
We are runners. We are unstoppable.
Boston…Louisville stands strong with you. There may be 970 miles of road between us…but last night…we were at that finish line at Copley Square. Last night…we remembered what you endured a week ago. And we were all moved and touched. Did you feel the love? If not…listen closely…hundreds of running shoes pounded the pavement for you. You might still hear the echoes of it. Because we all did it…together.
Me and Nikky pinned up and ready for our run for Boston.
Today was a good day.
It feels strange to say that, because good days since Monday, April 15, 2013, have been few and far between. I’ve had good moments, sure…but my overall attitude, my overall emotional state was rocked…perhaps even shattered when those bombs went off at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. I wasn’t there. But my heart and soul was. And every image burned itself into my heart. I cried…a lot. I felt down. Depressed. Angry. Sad. I felt lost. I felt hopeless. I felt helpless. I’ve witnessed quite a few life-changing events in my life, but this one rocked me hard. This one…hit me right in the chest.
Why?
Because…I am a runner.
So, when my friend Nikky asked on her Facebook page if someone wanted to pace her while she went on her last long run before she began her taper for the Kentucky Derby Mini Marathon coming up in a week…I volunteered. It’s not often I get to go running with others. There is my fun run group on Monday, of course, but…most times I’m on my own there too. So, I jumped on the chance to join her for her 10 mile run. She was worried that she would be too slow…but I told her it was her job to set the pace…and I would go with it. I never mind running with people. And if it means I slow my pace down, I’m more than happy to do it.
So often runners focus on their pace, their time. I am one of these runners. I always am looking to better myself. And so often I forget the joy of just going out for a slow, easy run. It’s amazing what you see, what you feel, what you notice that you might have missed…
Then, on Thursday, it occurred to me that Nikky and I could do something very special on our 10 miler. We could run…for Boston. I pitched the idea at her, and she was totally for it. Dedicating her long run to a cause…and we’d do it together. I printed up some race bibs for us to wear, to make it official, and eagerly anticipated our run on Saturday afternoon.
I went out on Saturday morning for an easy 5 miler on my own…a warm-up if you will. And after grabbing a bite to eat at Jason’s Deli (My pre-race lunch was a gluten-free peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Don’t mock…runners love peanut butter!), I headed to our rendezvous spot, ready to help her do her long run.
We met up at the YMCA and had Cathy get us pinned up (she’s an expert after all). After that, Cathy went off to grocery shop and Nikky and I headed to the park where we would start our run. We stretched (she is SO flexible!) and then walked up to the road to get started. I reassured her that I was more than happy to take her pace and she told me it was okay to push her a little now and then. So, with that understanding, I let her start us off…up a hill.
We had so much fun. The miles flew by as we ran around a route she runs often enough. And we did it wearing our special race bibs, throwing our hands up in the air. Running for Boston. It felt good to add a cause to purpose for being out on the roads. The race bibs just sort of made it feel more official. It felt good. We kept our conversations on the light side…speaking of happy things. We’d talk about Boston…but mostly of the relief that just last night the second suspect was taken into custody…alive. And how we hoped that justice would be played out. We talked of races, ones we’ve run, ones that we would like to run. We talked about our families. We talked about people we know who run. We talked about our local running stores. We would throw our hands up in the air when cars drove by, saying, “We’re running for Boston!” And we never stopped. It was refreshing. It was, honestly, just what I needed.
Ten miles, with hills at the start, hills in the middle, and more hills at the end. She really had this planned out. The best part was, she did an amazing job on her run. We hit 10 miles and I hugged her and congratulated her. She is amazing and she’s going to do a great job on her run next weekend. I can tell. And with crowd support down there, oh…I have a feeling she’ll do better than she even expects. The important thing is to pace herself. I am so proud of her. She rocked it. She knew when to push and when to let up. She was determined not to get injured before this race this year…and I am so glad she listened to her body. Those last two miles, though, she gave it her all. Yeah…very proud of her.
Proudly wearing our race bibs…we headed to The Comfy Cow for celebratory ice cream. We talked some more about anything and everything. And finally, we parted ways.
Today’s run was so cleansing. It was something we both felt we needed to do. She had the reason and we both had the time. Dedicating today’s run to Boston was so heartfelt. We both were affected by what happened. Anyone who is a runner or was a runner or even just knows runners was affected by the events in Boston on Monday. But with every step we took today, we put in miles for the victims of those senseless bombings. Miles for a good cause. Miles to remember. Miles that we shared…with Boston in our hearts and proudly displayed on our tech shirts. This was Nikky’s run…but she and I made it so much more.
This wasn’t just a training run. That was what got us out there. This was a run for remembrance. This was a run for healing. We accomplished it. And we did it together. One foot in front of the other. The road rose up to meet us…and we left our heartache and tears behind as we climbed our first hill together…and lifted up Boston.
Thank you, Nikky, for this amazing experience. We may have only been two people…but we carried the whole of the Boston Marathon with us. Boston Strong!
April 15, 2013 – Patriot Day – The Boston Marathon.
As someone who is looking forward to running in her first marathon, the Chicago Marathon in October, I cannot even put into words how I feel about the senseless bombing of the iconic Boston Marathon. All I can say is…when I heard the news, I started crying…and then…I started running. And it has been a struggle to make myself stop doing either one.
I wasn’t in Boston for the marathon, but I feel my heart was. I knew a few people who were running yesterday. I know a few people who live there. And I have been told, by countless people, that they believe I can qualify for this historic, amazing, iconic race.
As a runner, the events that unfolded in Boston ripped through my body and soul. It was so senseless.
I read the news at work, as the first reports came over my Twitter feed. I got up and hurried over to Cathy’s desk and relayed the news. From then on, I was a mess of fighting back tears, receiving texts from friends and family, and just doing my best to keep it together. There is just something about Boston that touches the runner in all of us.
Yesterday started off really amazing. I had a running feed of the Boston Marathon going. I was getting a lot of work done. I was cheering for my US ladies, Shalane Flanagan (finished 4th) and Kara Goucher (finished 6th) as well as the US men, like Jason Hartmann (finished 4th). My work situation was tense. I had apparently pissed off my teammate that morning…and instead of telling me…things just got uncomfortable. I confronted her on it…she finally just told me the issue. We resolved it…but I was tense. And then…explosions ripped through the finish line of the Boston Marathon. And my world just seemed to stop for a moment.
WHY? JUST WHY?! That’s what I didn’t understand. I still don’t understand. I try to think the best of people and then some senseless act strikes. What kind of an asshole bombs a marathon?! I struggled with news reports the rest of the day, fighting back tears at the office, and ultimately failing every time. With a heavy heart and puffy, tear-soaked eyes, I left the office and headed home.
I wasn’t home long. My local running store was putting on their usual Monday night fun run. They aptly put up over Twitter and Facebook that it was now a Boston Solidarity Walk/Run. My heart was in it…I didn’t just want to go, I needed to go. So, after eating dinner very quickly, Cathy and I hopped into the car and drove over to Louisville to my running store for the usual Monday night fun run. The mood was solemn. For awhile no one really wanted to talk about it. But we all had it in our hearts and on our minds. You just had to look us – our posture, our stoic faces. We left for our run…and I was going to take it easy and stay with the group.
At first, conversation was about marathons…and security now. The subject slowly changed…to what people did last weekend…Jurassic Park 3D…and then we hit the hills of Cherokee Park. A friend of the small group I was with in the lead stopped them, but I kept going. I couldn’t stop. My feet needed to move. Easy, without any speed or power behind it. Me legs just had to be moving. They had to run. And it was when I broke away and really thought about the events of the day, that the tears really started to flow. I cried my eyes out and my heart out on that run through Cherokee Park. It felt cleansing and good. And I know people were wondering why this girl was bawling her eyes out as she ran the loop, but I couldn’t stop the emotions just like I couldn’t stop my feet. It had to happen. I needed it to happen.
Hal Higdon, an American writer and runner said it best yesterday in his response to the bombings at Boston. He said:
“When I first offered the link below, it was to let everyone know who were the winners in today’s Boston Marathon. But there were a lot of losers today: all of us who love the sport of long distance running, all who love the Boston Athletic Association Marathon for all it means to our sport. And ironically from early reports, those who seem to have taken the biggest hit from the explosions were those who cheer us, the spectators standing beside the road. God love them all.”
He’s absolutely right. The brunt of the attacks didn’t so much hit the runners, but tore through the people who lined the course…those who chose to come out and offer support to the tired runners who were making their way in to the finish line. They were celebrating the accomplishments of others, cheering, clapping, shouting. Runners need support like that, especially after a grueling race. These people were innocent bystanders. They didn’t have to be out on that street offering their support to those out there running – but that was where they chose to be.
Another reason it hit so hard…had I been running Boston, my family, Cathy, even my friends could have been right there waiting for me to come in, perhaps watching me come in. Perhaps I would have been done by then. But…this could have been my loved ones. It hits hard. It breaks my heart. And I am still torn to pieces on the inside over the entire situation.
Runners are some of the kindest and most giving people in the world. I have met so many amazing and wonderful people in the running community. This senseless act tore through me…because it affected a world that I am a part of. I am a runner. And this hurt. This stung. This ripped through me and broke my heart. I had tears in my eyes this morning as I went out for my morning run.
One of my female running idols, Kathrine Switzer, who has huge ties to the Boston Marathon (GO GIRL!), once said, “If you are losing faith in human nature, go out and watch a marathon.”
I couldn’t agree more. To all the runners out there…I know. I feel it too. For all of you who choose to come out and cheer at any race, no matter the size or distance…thank you. You are the true heroes…because you are the ones who pull us through when we need it most.
My heart is with Boston today. My soul is in Boston today. My mind is on Boston today. My love goes out to those who helped…the heroes in Boston, the spectators, the victims, the runners, the residents…
Hug a runner today. Hug a spectator today. Because, when it all comes down to it…we’re in this race together.
People start running for a variety of reasons. Most of the time it has something to do with weight…or loving beer…or wanting to eat more without the guilt. And that’s all fine and good. I don’t begrudge these types of runners…not at all. At least they are being active. But, my advice…find a sport or activity you actually love doing. Do you like to bike? You burn a ton of calories biking…give that a shot. Do you like to walk? You burn as many calories walking a mile as you do running a mile. One just gets you there faster. Don’t expect to stick with running if you don’t really love to run.
That being said…for me, running is about passion. There are very few things I can honestly point to in this world and say…”This defines me.” But running…running does. And I think that’s why I get a bit aggravated with the ones who buy into every gimmick…or new running fad that enters the market. Running doesn’t have to be complicated. It’s easy. One foot in front of the other…forward motion. You don’t have to be fast. Running doesn’t come with a rule book. But for anyone out there whose head might be spinning from all this newfangled running stuff…here’s simple advise: Wear proper shoes for your feet, get out and run…and don’t worry about how fast or slow you are, and eat your meals and treats without regrets. Okay? This is how I live…every day. You know why?
I simply love to run.
I didn’t realize how much I enjoyed lacing up my shoes, heading outside, cranking out a couple miles, and returning home, sweaty, spent, and feeling better than when I walked out the door in the first place, until I discovered what running meant to me. The runner’s high is very real…and I love that feeling of complete domination when everything on a run goes right. I don’t have to run fast or steady. I just need to feel that pavement under my Nike’s and take in the sights, sounds, and beauty of whatever road I choose to run.
You see…running runs in my family. Kind of. It’s not a gift. Nor is it a talent that is passed down from generation to generation. If it were, my dad and his sister would be runners…but they aren’t. However…my grandpa was. And he picked it up late in life. I can’t recall a visit with my grandpa that he didn’t head out for hours to run and come back sweaty and ready for a shower. You see…he found joy in his runs. He found himself. He found…solace, space, euphoria, and freedom. I never understood why he ran. I just knew that he started to run in his 50s and he didn’t stop until his late 80s. He’s run marathons in other countries. He’s competed in countless road races. And, when he stopped…it was as if I picked up the torch and found out just what it meant to him to run. Because I can’t imagine a moment without that feeling I get when I run.
One of my favorite races happened in February 2012…in Birmingham, Alabama. It was the Making Tracks for Celiacs 5K race. And my brother-in-law, who had just taken up running, our friend Armand, and myself were running in it. But grandpa was in town and he said he was going to come along to cheer or see if they needed volunteers to help with water stops or whatever. And then, he ended up signing up to walk the course. So, I got to be in a race with my road hero. It meant so much to me. Especially since Celiac is something I live with and why I have to be gluten-free. I’ll never forget that race and how much I smiled when grandpa crossed that finish line. I was there to cheer for him…and it still makes me smile to this day.
Running didn’t come easy. In fact, it hurt. It hurt a lot, at first. Back in 2003, I was in Ireland with one of my best friends and our car was struck head-on by a truck. Both of my knees dislocated and since then had been giving me problems. My first attempts at running were done on the smallest track in the world, the one at my gym, where 18 laps gets you a mile. It took me awhile to work up to 18 laps. I bought knee braces that hindered me, so I went without. And soon, I found my knees no longer bothered me. And 18 laps wasn’t so daunting.
I had heard about an upcoming 5K in Louisville, Kentucky…right in my backyard, at Cherokee Park. I told my roommate that if I could run 3 miles in under 30 minutes at the gym, I was going to sign up and make it my first race. I gave it a go…and at the end, I managed. I was tired. I was out of breath. But I managed.
So, on April 9, 2011, I arrived at Cherokee Park, not realizing how hilly it was, ready to pick up my race number, receive my t-shirt, and go for a run. My roommate and the receptionist at the office I work in came out to cheer me on. I didn’t know where to line up or where I was going. I figured I would just follow everyone else. This, by the way, is still my method when it comes to racing. I’m not speedy enough to lead the race, so I just go where everyone else does. I ran that 5K race in 30:28…and it felt like the hardest thing I had ever done. But…I was ready for more.
Since then, I have run in every sort of weather imaginable. I have been injured badly twice, once in June 2011 after the Activate America 5 Miler in Frankfort, Kentucky, where I spent the rest of the summer out of running with a stress fracture in my right foot and bad runner’s knee in my right knee, and on July 21, 2012, when I tore my plantar fascia at the Grand Slam 4 Miler race in Louisville, Kentucky. I truly missed running when I was down with these injuries. I would cry, and I know I was a terror to live with. My roommate was very supportive and very, very kind to put up with me.
See…passion. If I didn’t love to do it…I wouldn’t have been crying because I couldn’t.
I’ve run countless 5Ks, some 4 milers, some 5 milers, a couple of 10Ks, some quarter marathons, a 15K, half-marathons (in fact, I ran a total of 6 last year!), and am now in training for my first marathon, which I will take on in October. I’ve come a long way from that girl on the track at the gym.
I was spring cleaning the other day and getting some organization done around the apartment. My roommate was helping me get my running gear and goods in order and when I pulled down the medals I had simply been hanging on a Care Bear on the top of my bookshelf. She said to organize them and take some pictures. So…I did. It’s like looking back almost 2 years in time and seeing what all I managed to accomplish…plus more that I have no awards for, but happy memories.
Below are the pictures we took of the various awards I have been lucky enough to receive during my life on the run.
Participant Awards:
Race Participant Medals – Top Row: Athenaeum Volksmarch (walking) (2009), Geist 5K (2011), Indianapolis Women’s 5K (2011), Tap N Run Louisville (2011), The Shamrock 2 Miler (2012); Bottom Row: Hope For The Children 5K (2012), Bunny Hop 5K (2012), Geist 5K (2012), The Leprechaun 2 Miler (2013)
Division Awards:
Race Division Awards – Top Row: Tomorrow’s Children 5K (2011 – 1st in division), Doug’s Run 10K (2011 – 1st in division), Tomorrow’s Children 5K (2012 – 1st in division), Pro.Active For Life 5K (2012 – 1st in division), Activate America 5 Miler (2012 – 2nd in division), Walk Away From Colon Cancer 5K Run (2012 – 3rd in division), Million Mutt March 5K (2012 – 1st in division); Bottom Row: Reindeer Romp 4K (2012 – 3rd in division), Santa Hustle Half Marathon (2012 – 3rd in division), Frostbite 5K (2013 – 2nd in division), Snowman Shuffle 4 Miler (2013 – 2nd in division), Polar Bear Grand Prix (2013 – 1st in division overall from 3 races), Run For The Gold 3K (2013 – 1st in division)
Race Medals (10K-Half Marathon):
10K – Half Marathon Race Medals – Top Row: Chicago Half Marathon (2011), Big Hit Quarter Marathon (2011), OneAmerica 500 Festival Mini Marathon (2012), Rock ‘N Sole Quarter Marathon (2012), Minneapolis Half Marathon (2012), Indianapolis Women’s Half Marathon (2012); Bottom Row: Air Force Marathon 10K (2012), Big Hit Quarter Marathon (2012), Hershey Half Marathon (2012), Louisville Sports Commission Half Marathon (2012), Santa Hustle Half Marathon (2012), Disney Princess Half Marathon (2013)
And, not pictured are the pint glass I received for taking 1st in my division at the Race for the Berries (2012), the Louisville Slugger Bat I received for winning 1st in my division at the Big Hit Quarter Marathon (2012), and the Hot Chocolate 15K (2012) finisher’s cup I picked up in Columbus, Ohio. It was full of chocolate goodness. What a great reason to run!
You know…the bling is nice and all…but I never run these races trying to walk away with an award. I stay and I cheer for those who do. Sometimes…I get surprised and win one myself. But the fact is…I run these races because somewhere out there on the road, through my own training runs and through races, I found myself. I found my smile. I found something in life I love to do. I don’t have to be good at it. I just have to be good enough for me.
And I am. I’m strong. And I’m getting stronger and better. I know this was something I was meant to do. I wish I had realized that earlier in life. But here I am in my early 30s and I have some of the best conversations with my grandpa about running. We compare race shirts. I listen to his stories about running in Germany and around Minnesota. My inspiration continues to inspire me to this day.
I have my grandpa to thank for giving me the inspiration and the drive. I have that little track at the gym for giving me my initial running challenges. And I have a small, local race on April 9, 2011 to thank for getting me hooked on the sport. When it comes down to it…if you want to do something for life…make sure it’s something you love.
My life has changed for the better since I took up running. I can’t picture my world without my time to run…be it on my own or in a race. It’s soothing. It’s fun. And it’s my passion. These legs have carried me pretty far in two years. I can’t wait to see where else they take me next!
Tomorrow marks the last race in the Louisville Triple Crown of Running, and it all comes to an end with the Papa John’s 10 Miler. I absolutely loved this race last year. We had rather perfect weather for it. Low 60s and no sun. Cloudy the entire time. I remember my race photos have my sunglasses on top of my head for the entire race. Never needed them once.
It’s going to be a little cooler this year…and there are a few things I’m working through in order to have a good race. Most of these are beyond my control. I can only say a prayer to the Goddess of Running (that would be Atalanta, FYI) and hope for the best. And, while I’m not 100% okay with that, I’ve come to terms with it. I’ve had to ever since the Rodes City Run 10K and my epic battle to race with bronchitis. No one said running was easy. If it was…everyone would be doing it.
While my bronchitis is in remission, finally (all it took was a lot of running inside on the dreaded treadmill…which is boring…especially on longer distance days), I’m still coughing and I am still a but snuffly from it. Breathing is coming easier, but I still wheeze and have to clear phlegm from my throat on occasion (is this TMI?). I’ve gotten back into running outside, though normally not in the mornings now. I do hit the dark sidewalks on Monday morning, in case I can’t make it to my group run that evening, but mostly I’ve been running home from my office. I’ve been doing okay with that, finding my easy pace to be faster than it has been…but maybe it’s because I can actually see where I’m going. Being able to see your running path makes all the difference, trust me!
For some reason, unknown to me, ever since going off my medication for bronchitis, I have been retaining water. Badly. And it sucks. I don’t know how to remedy this problem…but it’s been with me all week and I’m really tired of it.
On Easter, the stepdaughter of my friend Amanda gave me some bits of candy from her Easter basket. Normally I would just set this aside…but she was watching and waiting for me to eat the offered sweets that she was willing to part with. So, I ate it. And discovered quickly that this was a huge mistake. You see, being a Celiac means I have to be very careful about the things I eat. And not all candy is gluten-free…especially holiday candy because it is usually processed in a plant that isn’t set to deal with cross-contamination. Or…that brand just doesn’t do gluten-free in the first place. I am usually so good about this…but for some reason, on Easter, I got careless. And my intestines have been dealing me fits ever since. Lesson learned…but not the week I needed to learn such a lesson. UGH. I’m smarter than that…I don’t know why I reacted like that…but my stomach has not been happy with me all week and it has made my runs home…interesting. Thank goodness for Kroger and their public restroom along the way. (Again…is this TMI?).
So, with all of that in mind…I’ve made a pact with myself. On Saturday morning, I am running 10 miles…for me. Not to better my time. Not to chase down friends or compete with others there. No. I’m not doing that here. This race is my redemption race. This race is to prove to myself that despite obstacles…and challenges…and the cards that life has dealt to me…I can run with my heart and be happy with whatever result comes from it. I know this is a tough course. Three miles of it go through the extremely hilly Iroquois Park. Three miles of it right in the middle of the race. That means legs could be feeling strong…or feeling tired. Lungs could be doing well, or fighting for each breath. The point is…I’m not running this for the sake of running it. I’m running this race because I need to run this race…for myself. Not for time. Not for glory. Not for a new PR. I just need to do it because every iota of my body is trying to shut me down…and I am stronger than that. I can overcome bronchitis, gluten, and water retention and have an amazing run. Forget the race part. This is truly just for me.
I know quite a few people are using this race as their build up to the Derby Festival Mini Marathon…a race I have yet to run. I know, that’s strange being that it is right here in my backyard…but I’m always racing the following weekend in a different half marathon. Therefore…I haven’t done this one. I have no doubt I could churn out back-to-back weekends of half marathons…but…I want to be ready for the one I am doing in Minnesota. It means a lot more to me than running in the Derby Festival Mini. But…I’ll get into that in a different post.
So, if you see me on Saturday out there, battling my lungs, my stomach, and the hills…give me some words of encouragement. I’ll need them and appreciate them.
On lunch today, I went down to Louisville to pick up my race packet. I’m as ready as I’m going to be. And…except for the few niggling issues with my body…I’m feeling good about it. I’m okay with where I am for this race on Saturday, and that’s the most important part.
The Celiathlete 