There is not one ounce of me wanting to get out of the car. Rain bounces off my windshield and I have 10 miles to run.
I open the door.
Deciding the 41° didn't warrant my gloves, I tossed them aside and step out of the haven of my car. I hit "start" on my Garmin and I am on my way to run the streets of the small town where I grew up.
My route begins on Front Street; the iconic street in town. Original homes boast well manicured lawns with massive oak trees flanking each side of the road. Their incredible branches canopy the road. The harshness of the winter has caused these trees to loose many pieces of themselves. I watch my step as I navigate through.
The rain is still strong.
The church my parents attended - as were my grandparents founding members - is on my left, my parents' lawyer in which closed out their estate is on the next block and the financial advisor I now use is kitty-corner from him. Only in a small town can so much of your life be wrapped up into 3 small blocks near each other.
Main Street is ahead and I run by the middle school which suffered a tremendous loss this week. This small town made the news and not the way you would hope for your community. The death of a student shattered people's lives and put an ultra-bright spotlight on difficult conversations. My heart breaks for all affected. #voiceforvylit
The corner farm and garden store where my youngest got his first pair of cowboy boots is open. I make note to be sure to stop and see what new gardening treasures are in for this year. The local transportation company is buzzing with activity. I wonder if my cousin is working.
On a whim, I turn into the city park. A handful of years ago now, the community decided to revamp the park. A massive play structure was designed and created. The company I work for donated not only materials but man hours and machinery. Community helping community. I love that.
I take the trail which loops me behind the YMCA and spits me out next to the creek. My siblings and I spent countless hours with our cousins playing in that creek. Today, the rains melting the record snowfall has caused the creek to spill it's banks. It swirls with activity.
Leaving the park I run by the first house my sister and her husband owned. The rose bushes still line the white picket fence.
Further down the road I am greeted with the sign of the first major housing development the town experienced. Financial shenanigans brought federal indictments and destroyed numerous peoples' bank accounts and retirements.
I turn toward the lush, green golf course. More trees grace this curvy road. A teenager driving a brand new SUV decides her need to turn into a parking lot outweighs my life in the cross walk. I screech to a halt and yell "THANKS" in my mama bear voice. She doesn't even tap the breaks.
The road curves toward empty soccer fields. The Rest Home is ahead. After daddy died, my siblings and I donated to them all of his medical supplies. Lord, there were so many. Before mom passed, she wanted to make sure Dad wouldn't have to worry about it and stocked the home full. FULL. Daddy would have wanted us to lessen the burden of another and so we gave them all away.
My girlfriend's green truck is parked in the driveway. Lori isn't home. She has left to take another group on a tour of Israel to walk where Jesus did and pray where Jesus prayed.
Our favorite ice cream store lies ahead. It's too early for them to be open now. When they do open, they will be busy. They are always busy. It happens when you make the best ice cream on the face of the planet.
Two SUVs pull up next to each other in front of the store. They are parallel with the store and both facing the same direction. I watch a man jump out of one vehicle and lean into the passenger side window of the other. He takes something and quickly puts it in his front pocket. A drug deal or someone handing him a stack of bible verses for the kids in his Sunday School class to memorize tomorrow? Both are entirely possible.
The road takes me by my high school. Despite being a Saturday morning, there are a few cars in the parking lot. I wind pass the elementary school and the original middle school. Long gone are the giant semi truck tires half submerged in the gravel that we would play on at recess.
Middle school; such tough and stretching years. I remember hiding in those big tires and crying more days than not my entire 5th grade year. One, because my mom gave me an "adorable" Dorthy Hamill haircut and everyone thought I was a boy. And two, because I lost my first grandparent that year. My grandfather was a tough old Dutchman who was not real affectionate. Loving in his own way I suppose. The next year I lost my Dad's mom who I most fondly remember giving us the biggest bowls of ice cream we'd ever laid eyes on.
As I have made my way through these streets I am struck by the sandy gravel covering the sidewalks every few feet. Where has this come from? It is all over town. My guess is the massive snow and ice storm that hammered the town was fought valiantly with plowing and sanding the streets. In the true fashion of the town, the streets are incredibly clean. Oddly, the sidewalks are not. This is remarkably unlike the town. Then again, we have yet to see any sunshine for people to get out and tend to their yards.
My route has taken me into the neighborhood my best friend from school once lived. The hours I spent there flood my mind. Amazing how different the place looks now - some due to changes and some due to seeing them through the eyes of an adult.
I stand at the intersection waiting for the only light I've encountered to change. Across from me I see the corner my friends stood and watched Dad's funeral procession. After working 25 years for the school district in the bus garage, they honored him by giving a bus procession to his final resting place.
The light turns and I run down the hill and behind the store my sister in law has worked for 20 years. A discarded vodka pint lays in the bushes. Local kids or trash blown from the last wind storm? Not really sure.
The clanking of a horse's tack gear spills from the open horse arena at the fair grounds. The roads are getting busier now.
I'm in my last mile. Still more gravel. I turn back onto Front Street. The rain has let up considerably. There is no wind. My car comes into sight. My run through my small town complete.
I peel off my soaking coat and throw it into my trunk. I put on a warm sweatshirt and head for home.
The weather man says tomorrow and the next day we can expect sunshine. What I do know for certain is that small town will be out with brooms sweeping off the sidewalks and freeing it of winter's gravel.
Showing posts with label Great Runs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Great Runs. Show all posts
Saturday, March 18, 2017
Sunday, February 19, 2017
The Learning Tree
The sky a blanket of grey; the rain misty. The air is cool on my face. After sleeping in a bit and enjoying a morning with my boys, I left for my run a bit later than I typically do on a Saturday morning. Ankle recovery isn't all bad.
The neighborhood begins to hum. Saturday plans begin to unfold in each home. My pace is easy. I round a corner and The Learning Tree comes into view. A massive oak tree with branches straight up to heaven.
Years ago I nick named this oak The Learning Tree. Each year as spring begins to kiss winter away, parent eagles will use this tree to teach their young to hunt. A young eagle will be found in its branches while the parents swoop down on rabbits and squirrels and critters in the surrounding field. An impressive sight that never tires.
No eagles teaching this morning.
My hope is to run 7 miles, the longest since twisting my bad ankle (again). The weather is world's apart from last week and the excitement shows in my step. I am happy to be out running with no snow, no ice, no wind. I make my way to my favorite country road. A road with beautiful views and rolling hills. This will be a good test of my ankle.
I've gone a quarter of a mile and another runner pops out from a long driveway. She waves and turns away from me. A runner with beautiful form and impressive speed. I watch as she turns down a private road.
A mother-daughter duo emerge walking from their property and onto the road. It isn't long before I catch up to them. I do my best not to startle them and we wish each other a beautiful morning. The birds sing, we all smile. A beautiful morning indeed.
Looking ahead I see people gathered at a mailbox. Neighbors being neighborly. As I approach I hear "CHERIIIIII!!!" and the older gentlemen holds out his to give me a high five. I give him a high five.
"Steve! I wondered if I'd see you today!"
"CHERI!!!" a familiar voice calls.
I turn to see the people Steve talking with and discover my cousin Ted and his daughter Olivia. They live up the road and were out talking a walk. We laugh at the realization we all know each other.
Steve, being retired, has more free time now to do things he likes to do and that includes running. The first time I ran with Steve was on that country road. Two runners sharing the same road and a bond cements. We chat for a bit before he says he needs to go so his wife doesn't worry. Ted, Olivia and I carry on and it isn't long and we all part ways.
Unexpected encounters interject fun into my run. I am smiling. The highest hill of the road is fast approaching. The house half way up the hill is still not finished. How long has it been? 2 years? 3 years? There is always progress, yet it remains incomplete. I've decided the owner is building it and doing it with his own funds. What I do know for certain is the house will be a stunning work of art. The new wrap around porch makes me long for summer days. The views they will have will be amazing.
3 1/2 miles in I turn around and head back toward home. As I crest the hill again, I look toward my favorite vista to see the low hanging grey clouds have concealed it's beauty. It's ok, I'm out here. And running. I am happy.
The fields are a yellow-green brought on by winter. Soon it will give way to the lush green of spring. Water is running in the ditches and through the culverts. It's melody of a creek. I see where the land gave way sliding into the ditch; another reminder of the harshness of last week.
Branches are strewn everywhere. The Great Silver Thaw, Snowmageddon and wind storms snapped branches off the grandest of trees. Tall evergreens stand like wounded warriors. Their massive branches broken and lying on the ground. The sight makes me awestruck with the power of last week's storm.
The Learning Tree comes back into view and with it the unmistaken sound of eagle chatter. A young eagle is perched atop of the mighty oak. Although I can not find them, the parent eagles are close by watching from a row of evergreen trees. Their instruction was clear and the eagle dives toward the field. Breakfast is served.
My run complete, I open the door to the smell of eggs and toast. I smile.
The neighborhood begins to hum. Saturday plans begin to unfold in each home. My pace is easy. I round a corner and The Learning Tree comes into view. A massive oak tree with branches straight up to heaven.
Years ago I nick named this oak The Learning Tree. Each year as spring begins to kiss winter away, parent eagles will use this tree to teach their young to hunt. A young eagle will be found in its branches while the parents swoop down on rabbits and squirrels and critters in the surrounding field. An impressive sight that never tires.
No eagles teaching this morning.
My hope is to run 7 miles, the longest since twisting my bad ankle (again). The weather is world's apart from last week and the excitement shows in my step. I am happy to be out running with no snow, no ice, no wind. I make my way to my favorite country road. A road with beautiful views and rolling hills. This will be a good test of my ankle.
I've gone a quarter of a mile and another runner pops out from a long driveway. She waves and turns away from me. A runner with beautiful form and impressive speed. I watch as she turns down a private road.
A mother-daughter duo emerge walking from their property and onto the road. It isn't long before I catch up to them. I do my best not to startle them and we wish each other a beautiful morning. The birds sing, we all smile. A beautiful morning indeed.
Looking ahead I see people gathered at a mailbox. Neighbors being neighborly. As I approach I hear "CHERIIIIII!!!" and the older gentlemen holds out his to give me a high five. I give him a high five.
"Steve! I wondered if I'd see you today!"
"CHERI!!!" a familiar voice calls.
I turn to see the people Steve talking with and discover my cousin Ted and his daughter Olivia. They live up the road and were out talking a walk. We laugh at the realization we all know each other.
Steve, being retired, has more free time now to do things he likes to do and that includes running. The first time I ran with Steve was on that country road. Two runners sharing the same road and a bond cements. We chat for a bit before he says he needs to go so his wife doesn't worry. Ted, Olivia and I carry on and it isn't long and we all part ways.
Unexpected encounters interject fun into my run. I am smiling. The highest hill of the road is fast approaching. The house half way up the hill is still not finished. How long has it been? 2 years? 3 years? There is always progress, yet it remains incomplete. I've decided the owner is building it and doing it with his own funds. What I do know for certain is the house will be a stunning work of art. The new wrap around porch makes me long for summer days. The views they will have will be amazing.
3 1/2 miles in I turn around and head back toward home. As I crest the hill again, I look toward my favorite vista to see the low hanging grey clouds have concealed it's beauty. It's ok, I'm out here. And running. I am happy.
The fields are a yellow-green brought on by winter. Soon it will give way to the lush green of spring. Water is running in the ditches and through the culverts. It's melody of a creek. I see where the land gave way sliding into the ditch; another reminder of the harshness of last week.
Branches are strewn everywhere. The Great Silver Thaw, Snowmageddon and wind storms snapped branches off the grandest of trees. Tall evergreens stand like wounded warriors. Their massive branches broken and lying on the ground. The sight makes me awestruck with the power of last week's storm.
The Learning Tree comes back into view and with it the unmistaken sound of eagle chatter. A young eagle is perched atop of the mighty oak. Although I can not find them, the parent eagles are close by watching from a row of evergreen trees. Their instruction was clear and the eagle dives toward the field. Breakfast is served.
My run complete, I open the door to the smell of eggs and toast. I smile.
Thursday, December 31, 2015
Running Steps of 2015
As soon as my watch hit 9.77 miles, I stop my run and give myself a high five. It's possible - just ask the 2 sheriffs sitting in their parked cars watching this anomaly happen. Normally I would not stop a run this short of a gloriously round number like 10 (I may have OCD tendencies) yet I do today. 9.77 miles pushed me to 1,420 miles for the year.
1,420 healing and life giving miles. This number I celebrate. Today's run - the last one in 2015 - was a reflective one. Each one of those miles taught me about myself.
Today the sun shines bright in the cold December sky. The northerly wind puts the air at a brisk 28°; all reminiscent of the start of the year. Those were some incredibly difficult miles. Losing both my parents within a year of each other and both at Christmas brought a darkness and a sadness I have never known. January and February's running steps held many, many tears, brokenness, peace and comfort.
Running steps didn't happen much in those first months. Some days it was a good day by getting out of bed. Some days it was a really good day by getting out of bed and getting pants on. The rest of the world appreciated that too.
March came ushering in spring. Sunnier days with birds singing and warmer temps made running steps easier. My running friends always making it a point to push me forward. We got a summer marathon on the calendar and with it came a training plan. On the days when I felt I had no energy to tie my shoes, I did. After all, my friends were waiting.
Those running steps brought me strength.
The trees around me clear and I am passing a farmer's field. Mount Baker stands regal in it's beauty. Psalm 46 comes to mind, "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore I will not fear, though the earth should change and the mountains slip into the heart of the sea." I wonder what it would take to make something as strong and sturdy as Mount Baker slip into the heart of the sea.
I think about God as my strength. I think about who He surrounded me with during this difficult year. Many people come to mind, and I am overwhelmed when I think of each of them. One of those strengths He gave me is a fabulous woman who is the most outgoing introvert you will ever meet. And she gets me. Oh, does she get me.
As a fellow introvert she wasn't afraid when I would retreat away from the world. She let me be in the scary lonely places in my heart, but would always be there with a nudge when she thought it best for me to come back out into the world.
"Let's meet for dinner after church."
"It's time to plan a date night, what night works best?"
"How 'bout we eat some Russian perogies Saturday night?"
She prayed with me in the ICU when my dad was given a 10% chance to live. She prayed for me more times than I will ever know. She also makes me laugh until I snort. Countless times while I ran I thanked God for putting her in my life.
Those running steps taught me gratitude.
The summer marathon came. So did the hot summer sun. I do not run well in the heat. This marathon crumbled beneath me and I let it. At times I was dizzy on the course, and I knew full well what that meant, but knowing the fight both my parents showed in their last days I would not quit. With 2 friends at my side, we walked and ran and talked about many things. The emotional highs and lows of the previous months had taken it's toll on me physically. Everyone (but me) could recognize that; I finally accepted it.
Those running steps taught me the importance of health.
A runner passes me on a quiet country road. Where did he come from? He startled me and I karate chopped him. Or maybe I screamed and said, "You scared me!"
The months of 2015 began peeling away. Focusing on my emotional and physical health, I gave myself permission to "just run". I signed up for a fall marathon and the entire goal was to enjoy every single step. My BRSs (Best Running Sisters) signed up with me and each week's long run we worked on falling in love with running again. No speed work, no tempo runs, no "have-to-do-this". We simply ran.
It worked. This marathon we laughed and took our time. If we felt like walking we did, if we wanted to run, we did. We enjoyed every single step. We ran by multi-million dollar homes in Seattle and made up stories about the people who owned them.
The finisher medals double as beer bottle openers (score!) and the race director made sure there was plenty of hot soup waiting as it was a cold 32° when we finished.
Those running steps taught me that to love running is a choice.
I'm closing in on the 9.77 miles. Once again Mount Baker comes into view and this time faint oranges and yellows kiss the snow. The sun will set soon on this last day of 2015.
1,420 miles and I close out my running year. There have been higher mileage years, faster mileage years but none near as important. I'm hard pressed to recount a running year that has meant more to me than this one.
This running year showed me that my running friends are not people I'm just sharing Saturday morning runs with; they are family. They uphold me, cry with me, laugh with me, and push me out the door to run. They make me a better me.
I look forward to sharing many miles with them in 2016.
Happiest of New Years my friends.
1,420 healing and life giving miles. This number I celebrate. Today's run - the last one in 2015 - was a reflective one. Each one of those miles taught me about myself.
Today the sun shines bright in the cold December sky. The northerly wind puts the air at a brisk 28°; all reminiscent of the start of the year. Those were some incredibly difficult miles. Losing both my parents within a year of each other and both at Christmas brought a darkness and a sadness I have never known. January and February's running steps held many, many tears, brokenness, peace and comfort.
Running steps didn't happen much in those first months. Some days it was a good day by getting out of bed. Some days it was a really good day by getting out of bed and getting pants on. The rest of the world appreciated that too.
March came ushering in spring. Sunnier days with birds singing and warmer temps made running steps easier. My running friends always making it a point to push me forward. We got a summer marathon on the calendar and with it came a training plan. On the days when I felt I had no energy to tie my shoes, I did. After all, my friends were waiting.
Those running steps brought me strength.
The trees around me clear and I am passing a farmer's field. Mount Baker stands regal in it's beauty. Psalm 46 comes to mind, "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore I will not fear, though the earth should change and the mountains slip into the heart of the sea." I wonder what it would take to make something as strong and sturdy as Mount Baker slip into the heart of the sea. I think about God as my strength. I think about who He surrounded me with during this difficult year. Many people come to mind, and I am overwhelmed when I think of each of them. One of those strengths He gave me is a fabulous woman who is the most outgoing introvert you will ever meet. And she gets me. Oh, does she get me.
As a fellow introvert she wasn't afraid when I would retreat away from the world. She let me be in the scary lonely places in my heart, but would always be there with a nudge when she thought it best for me to come back out into the world.
"Let's meet for dinner after church."
"It's time to plan a date night, what night works best?"
"How 'bout we eat some Russian perogies Saturday night?"
She prayed with me in the ICU when my dad was given a 10% chance to live. She prayed for me more times than I will ever know. She also makes me laugh until I snort. Countless times while I ran I thanked God for putting her in my life.
Those running steps taught me gratitude.
The summer marathon came. So did the hot summer sun. I do not run well in the heat. This marathon crumbled beneath me and I let it. At times I was dizzy on the course, and I knew full well what that meant, but knowing the fight both my parents showed in their last days I would not quit. With 2 friends at my side, we walked and ran and talked about many things. The emotional highs and lows of the previous months had taken it's toll on me physically. Everyone (but me) could recognize that; I finally accepted it.
Those running steps taught me the importance of health.
A runner passes me on a quiet country road. Where did he come from? He startled me and I karate chopped him. Or maybe I screamed and said, "You scared me!"
The months of 2015 began peeling away. Focusing on my emotional and physical health, I gave myself permission to "just run". I signed up for a fall marathon and the entire goal was to enjoy every single step. My BRSs (Best Running Sisters) signed up with me and each week's long run we worked on falling in love with running again. No speed work, no tempo runs, no "have-to-do-this". We simply ran.
It worked. This marathon we laughed and took our time. If we felt like walking we did, if we wanted to run, we did. We enjoyed every single step. We ran by multi-million dollar homes in Seattle and made up stories about the people who owned them.
The finisher medals double as beer bottle openers (score!) and the race director made sure there was plenty of hot soup waiting as it was a cold 32° when we finished.
Those running steps taught me that to love running is a choice.
I'm closing in on the 9.77 miles. Once again Mount Baker comes into view and this time faint oranges and yellows kiss the snow. The sun will set soon on this last day of 2015.
1,420 miles and I close out my running year. There have been higher mileage years, faster mileage years but none near as important. I'm hard pressed to recount a running year that has meant more to me than this one.
This running year showed me that my running friends are not people I'm just sharing Saturday morning runs with; they are family. They uphold me, cry with me, laugh with me, and push me out the door to run. They make me a better me.
I look forward to sharing many miles with them in 2016.
Happiest of New Years my friends.
Friday, August 22, 2014
The Girl At The Track
She caught the corner of my eye. Her hair, tied in a loose ponytail, bobbed up and down as she ran around the track of a local high school. She wore a cotton t-shirt and long grey sweatpants. It was over 90° on that black-ovaled track and I knew she had to have been hot. Weight loss seemed to be her goal as she appeared 100 pounds overweight.
Breathing hard due to the pace I was running, she could hear me coming near her. As I approached, she turned her head and body away from me. I knew what that meant, there was no mistaking it. She was hiding. She wasn't a real runner.
I know, because I use to be that girl.
The Gift Of Strep Throat
It was April 2003 and I had come down with a nasty sore throat. My husband suspected strep and urged me to go see the doctor. I had never experienced strep throat before but I knew it was contagious. My babies were 6 and 1½ years old and I didn't want them getting sick.
At the doctor's office, the nurse had me step onto the scale - the Dreaded Scale. It had been a year and a half since the baby was born and I couldn't shed the baby weight. I had made peace with my new mommy-size.
Hesitantly I stepped on the scale. I did a double take at the numbers before me. This can't be right. The Dreaded Scale had budged. I had lost 5 pounds. The strep throat had made it difficult to eat helping me lose 5 pounds in the process. The revelation the weight could come off gave me a grin so wide the nurse asked me if I was ok.
The big question I faced now became "What am I going to do to keep it off?". With two young boys and my husband and I both working full time, where in the world would I find time to exercise? What would I even do? Thinking back to my high school days, I thought of PE class and track. It had been 16 years since I had done either. SIXTEEN.
I had zero exercise equipment, but I think I had acceptable shoes somewhere in the house. I dug into my closet and found an old tattered pair of tennis shoes. This is a miracle in itself as there was no logical explanation as to why I even had the pair.
Set My Alarm Clock for WHAT TIME?
Since I work outside of our home, my family time is crucially important to me. I could not take time away from my young boys to exercise. My only option was getting up before anyone else was awake.
This is not natural. I love sleep.
Making the decision to run around our block once, and having no idea how long it would take me, I set the alarm for 15 minutes earlier than normal. I was now getting up at 6:00 am. THIS IS INSANE.
One Block, Two Block, Three Block, Four
My first run in 16 years was around the block; a distance of less than 3/4 a mile and it took me 10 minutes. I broke no speed records and had no fan fare. No one saw me and I was relieved. I had no idea what I was doing and I was not a real runner. I was only an overweight mom whose single goal being to keep off that blasted 5 pounds.
The next day I did it again. And again. And again.
A week later I decided to go a little bit further. And then a little bit further. The first day I ran an entire mile evoked strong feelings of accomplishment. Never before in my adult life had I been as proud of myself as I was in that moment.
Still, no one saw me running. Fear gripped me knowing if anyone saw me running, they would surely laugh at me as I was not a real runner. I didn't have real running clothes or real running shoes or even look like a real runner. My sweats were old, my shoes older and I was overweight.
A Look In The Mirror
At the track, as I passed this overweight woman who refused to look at me, my heart twinged in memory. It was as if I peeled back time and was looking at my former self. I wanted to hug her and tell her I - yes, I, a complete stranger - was incredibly proud of her. I wanted to tell her she was a real runner and to run tall and proud of all she was accomplishing. Showing up at the track screamed loudly of her inner strength and determination; guts I never had in my beginning.
More than anything I wanted her to know the hard work is worth it. The weight comes off. The mornings become your favorite quiet time of the day. The running brings tears of joy and tears of pain because it is the hardest thing you've physically ever done. Running helps you deal with the death of your mom. One day you'll realize how many years you wasted feeling bad because you had no idea how good the good feels.
Coming around the third bend of the track, she was in my sights again. I moved 3 lanes over to be in the lane next to her. Her eyes were intently staring at the ground directly in front of her; looking neither ahead, left or right. I came up next to her and quietly said, "You are doing great. Keep up the good work." My words startled her and she snapped her head in my direction. Before pulling away from her, I gave her a thumbs up.
There was no mistaking the look on her face. The corners of her mouth began to form the biggest of smiles.
Breathing hard due to the pace I was running, she could hear me coming near her. As I approached, she turned her head and body away from me. I knew what that meant, there was no mistaking it. She was hiding. She wasn't a real runner.
I know, because I use to be that girl.
The Gift Of Strep Throat
It was April 2003 and I had come down with a nasty sore throat. My husband suspected strep and urged me to go see the doctor. I had never experienced strep throat before but I knew it was contagious. My babies were 6 and 1½ years old and I didn't want them getting sick.
At the doctor's office, the nurse had me step onto the scale - the Dreaded Scale. It had been a year and a half since the baby was born and I couldn't shed the baby weight. I had made peace with my new mommy-size.
Hesitantly I stepped on the scale. I did a double take at the numbers before me. This can't be right. The Dreaded Scale had budged. I had lost 5 pounds. The strep throat had made it difficult to eat helping me lose 5 pounds in the process. The revelation the weight could come off gave me a grin so wide the nurse asked me if I was ok.
The big question I faced now became "What am I going to do to keep it off?". With two young boys and my husband and I both working full time, where in the world would I find time to exercise? What would I even do? Thinking back to my high school days, I thought of PE class and track. It had been 16 years since I had done either. SIXTEEN.
I had zero exercise equipment, but I think I had acceptable shoes somewhere in the house. I dug into my closet and found an old tattered pair of tennis shoes. This is a miracle in itself as there was no logical explanation as to why I even had the pair.
Set My Alarm Clock for WHAT TIME?
Since I work outside of our home, my family time is crucially important to me. I could not take time away from my young boys to exercise. My only option was getting up before anyone else was awake.
This is not natural. I love sleep.
Making the decision to run around our block once, and having no idea how long it would take me, I set the alarm for 15 minutes earlier than normal. I was now getting up at 6:00 am. THIS IS INSANE.
One Block, Two Block, Three Block, Four
My first run in 16 years was around the block; a distance of less than 3/4 a mile and it took me 10 minutes. I broke no speed records and had no fan fare. No one saw me and I was relieved. I had no idea what I was doing and I was not a real runner. I was only an overweight mom whose single goal being to keep off that blasted 5 pounds.
The next day I did it again. And again. And again.
A week later I decided to go a little bit further. And then a little bit further. The first day I ran an entire mile evoked strong feelings of accomplishment. Never before in my adult life had I been as proud of myself as I was in that moment.
Still, no one saw me running. Fear gripped me knowing if anyone saw me running, they would surely laugh at me as I was not a real runner. I didn't have real running clothes or real running shoes or even look like a real runner. My sweats were old, my shoes older and I was overweight.
A Look In The Mirror
At the track, as I passed this overweight woman who refused to look at me, my heart twinged in memory. It was as if I peeled back time and was looking at my former self. I wanted to hug her and tell her I - yes, I, a complete stranger - was incredibly proud of her. I wanted to tell her she was a real runner and to run tall and proud of all she was accomplishing. Showing up at the track screamed loudly of her inner strength and determination; guts I never had in my beginning.
More than anything I wanted her to know the hard work is worth it. The weight comes off. The mornings become your favorite quiet time of the day. The running brings tears of joy and tears of pain because it is the hardest thing you've physically ever done. Running helps you deal with the death of your mom. One day you'll realize how many years you wasted feeling bad because you had no idea how good the good feels.
Coming around the third bend of the track, she was in my sights again. I moved 3 lanes over to be in the lane next to her. Her eyes were intently staring at the ground directly in front of her; looking neither ahead, left or right. I came up next to her and quietly said, "You are doing great. Keep up the good work." My words startled her and she snapped her head in my direction. Before pulling away from her, I gave her a thumbs up.
There was no mistaking the look on her face. The corners of her mouth began to form the biggest of smiles.
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
Sun Mountain 25k Trail Race
We pulled into the Chickadee Trail head parking lot at 8:30; 3 1/2 hours after leaving home. The time had gone by very quickly, but how could it not with views like this along the way?
There was plenty of time before the 10 am start to get our race numbers, eat and use the outhouse. As more people began to arrive, we were also able to incorporate some awesome cross training for our swimming by learning how to hold our breath when using the outhouse. It helped us feel hard core cuz we don't even swim.
The kids 1k race started 15 minutes before our race and it was fun to watch the joy come across their faces as they ran their hardest down and around the trail. Their excitement was contagious. As you can see here :
Those may look like confident smiles, but really we are a bunch of road runners who like to run on dirt every once in awhile.
With some course advice and a loud "GO!" from James the race director, we were off on our 15 1/2 mile journey. 304 runners converged onto the trail. Very shortly after the start, it became a single track trail weaving around Patterson Lake. We were like a parade of ants at a picnic, all marching in perfect unison down the trail. Until someone stopped; then it was kind of like dominoes except the dominoes were sweaty. Kathy and I were loving every single minute of it.
We came to a small meadow between scattered trees exploding in wild sunflowers and blue bells. I wanted to stop and snap a picture but the ant march was clipping along pretty well and I didn't want to start a game of dominoes.
A few miles into the race the trail widened and we were all able to spread out. Never one to take a camera (you think I would eventually remember) I dedicated myself to taking selfies on this run to capture the scenery. Taking pictures while running was a completely new experience for Kathy and I. Here's our first one - EPIC.
The look on Kathy's face : Are you sure you are doing it right?
The look on my face : Hey look, all I have to do is press this button!
Ok, so maybe we would have to practice. Please note though, how steep the climb is in a relative short distance. This is one of the many hiking (read : walking) sections of our race.
The trail came to a clearing as it wound up the side the mountain. Displayed before us were mountains in the Okanogan Forest and wild sunflowers kissing the mountainsides. In order to capture the view, we tried to take our picture again. This time it's quite evident we are both thinking the same thing : Did it take the picture yet?
Let's just admire the sunflowers shall we?
This picture may look like the highest peak of our race, but it is not. I think this is mile 5 or 6. The climbs were difficult yet the scenery was so spectacular it more than made up for it. Surrounded by wild sunflowers, we decided this would be a good time to play the You-Run-Up-Ahead-And-Take-My-Picture-While-I-Run-By-With-The-Sunflowers-Behind-Me-And-Then-I'll-Do-It-For-You game. Never heard of it? Weird.
The dirt trail turned onto a forest service road, to turn back onto a dirt trail again. All the while we were surrounded by forest which gave way to sweeping views of the mountains around us and the valley below us. At the half way point we felt a twinge of sadness as we knew we were half way finished. We didn't want it to be over.
Spectacular isn't it?
Kathy and I had become the masters at selfies. It's hard to tell what exactly we are taking a picture of here, so let's just admire how we've mastered taking our own pictures shall we?
Somewhere between mile 8 and 9 we came across the only aid station on the 25k course. It was an oasis of water, electrolytes, coke, grapes, watermelon, peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, chocolate and potato chips. If you've never run a trail run before those delights alone should be enough to get you out there. I'm not sure anything tastes as good as salty potato chips after climbing to 3700'.
We left the aid station after satisfying our cravings and headed to what we thought would be downhill. At some point this trail is going to actually go back down isn't it? The steepest climb lay ahead. We left a forest service road for an incredibly steep, single track ascent. At the top we stopped a minute to take another selfie (I mean, "catch our breath").
Some kind runner offered to take our picture for us. Maybe they could tell we were novices and decided if we wanted a good picture, they were going to have to help us out. Or that maybe we couldn't breathe and hold a camera at the same time.
One begins to realize how high we have climbed when the tops of the massive evergreens are that close.
We finally begin our descent down. YES!
The single track trail was easy to follow. The winter had taken it's toll on the trail however and it often felt like we were running in a wash out as we maneuvered past rocks and roots. This glorious down hill was FAST and over with quickly. As we rounded a corner we were greeted with a long uphill section. We were a little confused as we had thought once the downhill had begun, the DOWNHILL HAD BEGUN. Surprise! Just one more section of uphill. We could see the carrot dangling and we chased it. The downhill was close, we just had to find it.
As the race promises, there is a downhill. We fell in line with 3 other runners. Kathy led the group, followed by me, a guy from Seattle, a guy from Georgia living in Issaquah and a woman who celebrated the February birth of her daughter by running up and down this mountain. Our laughter echoed in the hillside.
We discovered Mr. Georgia-Living-In-Issaquah is friends with the race director James. He also informed us he just opened up a trail running store called Uphill Running. Upon hearing the name we immediately put two and two together. The elevation profile of this race was clearly his fault and we felt compelled to tell him so.
The descent was rapid. The uneven terrain was felt in my ankles. We kept a very close eye on the trail rather than the scenery around us. After 3 hours in the trail, we met the first person of the day actually coming toward us. Carrying pizza. Either this Pizza Delivery Boy was the best Pizza Delivery Boy EVER or we had to be near the finish line.
He said it was a half mile away. It was a mile. He was close.
We were sad the best race we've ever run was almost over but excited as despite it being far from easy, we easily had fun. So we took another picture.
Obviously I haven't mastered this selfie thing.
The finish line was filled with people screaming for each and every runner that came in. The finish line was crossed only when you got your high five from James. He gave me mine in 3:06:47 after I started.
Our husbands were there waiting for us as well as Kathy's son Kellan who would be celebrating his 19th birthday by running the 50k the next morning. After we finished, the band played while we sat in our lawn chairs, eating delicious pizza and drinking cold beer - the best finish to running the best run at the best race.
We've already got a race penciled in our calendar for next year; care to guess which one?
There was plenty of time before the 10 am start to get our race numbers, eat and use the outhouse. As more people began to arrive, we were also able to incorporate some awesome cross training for our swimming by learning how to hold our breath when using the outhouse. It helped us feel hard core cuz we don't even swim.
The kids 1k race started 15 minutes before our race and it was fun to watch the joy come across their faces as they ran their hardest down and around the trail. Their excitement was contagious. As you can see here :
Those may look like confident smiles, but really we are a bunch of road runners who like to run on dirt every once in awhile.
With some course advice and a loud "GO!" from James the race director, we were off on our 15 1/2 mile journey. 304 runners converged onto the trail. Very shortly after the start, it became a single track trail weaving around Patterson Lake. We were like a parade of ants at a picnic, all marching in perfect unison down the trail. Until someone stopped; then it was kind of like dominoes except the dominoes were sweaty. Kathy and I were loving every single minute of it.
We came to a small meadow between scattered trees exploding in wild sunflowers and blue bells. I wanted to stop and snap a picture but the ant march was clipping along pretty well and I didn't want to start a game of dominoes.
A few miles into the race the trail widened and we were all able to spread out. Never one to take a camera (you think I would eventually remember) I dedicated myself to taking selfies on this run to capture the scenery. Taking pictures while running was a completely new experience for Kathy and I. Here's our first one - EPIC.
The look on Kathy's face : Are you sure you are doing it right?
The look on my face : Hey look, all I have to do is press this button!
Ok, so maybe we would have to practice. Please note though, how steep the climb is in a relative short distance. This is one of the many hiking (read : walking) sections of our race.
The trail came to a clearing as it wound up the side the mountain. Displayed before us were mountains in the Okanogan Forest and wild sunflowers kissing the mountainsides. In order to capture the view, we tried to take our picture again. This time it's quite evident we are both thinking the same thing : Did it take the picture yet?
Let's just admire the sunflowers shall we?
This picture may look like the highest peak of our race, but it is not. I think this is mile 5 or 6. The climbs were difficult yet the scenery was so spectacular it more than made up for it. Surrounded by wild sunflowers, we decided this would be a good time to play the You-Run-Up-Ahead-And-Take-My-Picture-While-I-Run-By-With-The-Sunflowers-Behind-Me-And-Then-I'll-Do-It-For-You game. Never heard of it? Weird.
Kathy and I had become the masters at selfies. It's hard to tell what exactly we are taking a picture of here, so let's just admire how we've mastered taking our own pictures shall we?
Somewhere between mile 8 and 9 we came across the only aid station on the 25k course. It was an oasis of water, electrolytes, coke, grapes, watermelon, peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, chocolate and potato chips. If you've never run a trail run before those delights alone should be enough to get you out there. I'm not sure anything tastes as good as salty potato chips after climbing to 3700'.
We left the aid station after satisfying our cravings and headed to what we thought would be downhill. At some point this trail is going to actually go back down isn't it? The steepest climb lay ahead. We left a forest service road for an incredibly steep, single track ascent. At the top we stopped a minute to take another selfie (I mean, "catch our breath").
Some kind runner offered to take our picture for us. Maybe they could tell we were novices and decided if we wanted a good picture, they were going to have to help us out. Or that maybe we couldn't breathe and hold a camera at the same time.
One begins to realize how high we have climbed when the tops of the massive evergreens are that close.
We finally begin our descent down. YES!
The single track trail was easy to follow. The winter had taken it's toll on the trail however and it often felt like we were running in a wash out as we maneuvered past rocks and roots. This glorious down hill was FAST and over with quickly. As we rounded a corner we were greeted with a long uphill section. We were a little confused as we had thought once the downhill had begun, the DOWNHILL HAD BEGUN. Surprise! Just one more section of uphill. We could see the carrot dangling and we chased it. The downhill was close, we just had to find it.
As the race promises, there is a downhill. We fell in line with 3 other runners. Kathy led the group, followed by me, a guy from Seattle, a guy from Georgia living in Issaquah and a woman who celebrated the February birth of her daughter by running up and down this mountain. Our laughter echoed in the hillside.
We discovered Mr. Georgia-Living-In-Issaquah is friends with the race director James. He also informed us he just opened up a trail running store called Uphill Running. Upon hearing the name we immediately put two and two together. The elevation profile of this race was clearly his fault and we felt compelled to tell him so.
The descent was rapid. The uneven terrain was felt in my ankles. We kept a very close eye on the trail rather than the scenery around us. After 3 hours in the trail, we met the first person of the day actually coming toward us. Carrying pizza. Either this Pizza Delivery Boy was the best Pizza Delivery Boy EVER or we had to be near the finish line.
He said it was a half mile away. It was a mile. He was close.
We were sad the best race we've ever run was almost over but excited as despite it being far from easy, we easily had fun. So we took another picture.
Obviously I haven't mastered this selfie thing.
The finish line was filled with people screaming for each and every runner that came in. The finish line was crossed only when you got your high five from James. He gave me mine in 3:06:47 after I started.
Our husbands were there waiting for us as well as Kathy's son Kellan who would be celebrating his 19th birthday by running the 50k the next morning. After we finished, the band played while we sat in our lawn chairs, eating delicious pizza and drinking cold beer - the best finish to running the best run at the best race.
We've already got a race penciled in our calendar for next year; care to guess which one?
Saturday, March 15, 2014
A Road To Recovery
Daylight Savings Time shoved our morning start time of 6:30 back into the dark. Lisa, Kelly and Stephanie were smart enough to remember headlamps. Pat, Melissa, Arlane and I made sure to stay in close with them.
We started our way down the dark trail grateful for the headlamps illuminating the path ahead. Spring rains had left ruts and muddy sections we carefully navigated around. We fell into comfortable paces and within a few miles we had spread apart yet remained within eyesight of each other.
Leaving the park, the skies lightened up enough and we can easily see the road ahead leading us to the marina. The boats sleep and very few people are walking the path. Melissa and I are enjoying the views while talking of our marathon plans for the year. In a few short weeks she will be heading back to run the Boston Marathon.
As we round a corner, we are happy to see Arlane running alongside of us. Kelly and Lisa had reached their miles and headed back to the starting point. Arlane caught up to us and the 3 of us easily fell in pace. Arlane and Melissa were both at the Boston Marathon last year finding themselves in the midst of the terrorist attack that pierced the heart of every runner and angered a nation.
The miles clicked by as we each shared deep emotions from that day in April. They talked of the things they saw, the smallest things their minds grabbed onto to keep them focused, the anxiety of getting through to loved ones to let them know they were ok, the intense stress of trying to find each other and the horror of the not knowing.
Although I was not there, I told them of the helplessness we felt trying to find out their whereabouts, if they were ok, injured...or worse. The emotions bubbled to the surface as I recalled all we did from 3,000 miles away. In a small way, sharing our stories this morning brought us down a road of recovery. With Melissa going back this year, she will face the ghosts of marathon past and we will be sitting at our computers tracking her every step along the course.
The 9 mile turn around point came as a surprise as we had been lost in conversation. The route we picked for this day was designed to be tough. The first 9 miles were downhill, the 9 mile run back was now all uphill. With Melissa running Boston, Arlane running Nashville and me doing Vancouver USA, hill training is essential.
Mile 10 was straight uphill and somewhere in the mile I was struck hard with the realization this wasn't difficult. For the last 2 1/2 years I struggled with my running. I was always tired, found myself walking on runs I could do easily before.
A trip to the doctor told me I was severely anemic. Despite iron and a diet strong in iron, I was still struggling. Last September I ran The Tunnel Lite Marathon and at this race I hit rock bottom. The day before the race, we discovered my Mom's cancer was no longer treatable and thus putting me emotionally unavailable to run a marathon. The day of the race I was having medical issues and my anemia griped me tight. Two years of fighting the anemia and it effecting my running as it did, I felt destroyed. The mental crush of the condition had finally broken me. My mind was in a very dark place.
In October I had a procedure done that controlled my medical issues and brought my anemia under control. And right there - somewhere near mile 11 - I realized how good I felt. For the first time in 2 1/2 years I realized how hard running had been for me because of how good I was feeling right at that moment. The feeling was incredibly freeing.
The next miles pass us by as we watch the town starting to come alive. A St. Patty's race was happening in a few hours and we could see the road crew putting up cones to keep runners safe. People were dressed in green.
The park had a steep hill and we grew quiet as we each focused on running the hill strong. Our pace was not faltering despite the hills we were tackling; telling us we were running harder than before. Melissa likes to push herself the last mile of a long run, but coming off a rigorous training week she was content to keep the current pace.
Little did she know.
We are running up the trail closing in on the last mile. My watch chirps 17 miles and with a smile, I pick up the pace. Melissa and Arlane are in conversation and then notice I have pulled ahead. I giggle to myself knowing picking up the pace will spark the competition in them both. .35 miles to go and I hear Melissa calling to me, "Really??"
"You've got .35 miles to go, we are almost done." She picks up the pace, catches me and passes me despite the hill we were cresting. She turns and yells, "You aren't falling behind, stay on my heels."
"Oh, I ain't goin' anywhere sister." and I stay in her shadow.
Arlane is right behind us shouting encouragement to stay strong.
My watch chirps telling us the mile is over and we have just clocked the fastest mile of the day. Mile 18. Uphill. Yea, we just did that.
Sipping our coffee and looking at my friends sitting around the table, it's hard for me not to get emotional. These days I cry a lot but today I felt so happy. My running family who was there for my last few struggling years are there still holding me up and celebrating these small steps I have in getting better. They understand how hard the marathon is, they understand how dark the mental game can be and they stand firmly at my side; they share every step on this road to recovery and I can't help but feel incredibly blessed.
We started our way down the dark trail grateful for the headlamps illuminating the path ahead. Spring rains had left ruts and muddy sections we carefully navigated around. We fell into comfortable paces and within a few miles we had spread apart yet remained within eyesight of each other.
Leaving the park, the skies lightened up enough and we can easily see the road ahead leading us to the marina. The boats sleep and very few people are walking the path. Melissa and I are enjoying the views while talking of our marathon plans for the year. In a few short weeks she will be heading back to run the Boston Marathon.
As we round a corner, we are happy to see Arlane running alongside of us. Kelly and Lisa had reached their miles and headed back to the starting point. Arlane caught up to us and the 3 of us easily fell in pace. Arlane and Melissa were both at the Boston Marathon last year finding themselves in the midst of the terrorist attack that pierced the heart of every runner and angered a nation.
The miles clicked by as we each shared deep emotions from that day in April. They talked of the things they saw, the smallest things their minds grabbed onto to keep them focused, the anxiety of getting through to loved ones to let them know they were ok, the intense stress of trying to find each other and the horror of the not knowing.
Although I was not there, I told them of the helplessness we felt trying to find out their whereabouts, if they were ok, injured...or worse. The emotions bubbled to the surface as I recalled all we did from 3,000 miles away. In a small way, sharing our stories this morning brought us down a road of recovery. With Melissa going back this year, she will face the ghosts of marathon past and we will be sitting at our computers tracking her every step along the course.
The 9 mile turn around point came as a surprise as we had been lost in conversation. The route we picked for this day was designed to be tough. The first 9 miles were downhill, the 9 mile run back was now all uphill. With Melissa running Boston, Arlane running Nashville and me doing Vancouver USA, hill training is essential.
Mile 10 was straight uphill and somewhere in the mile I was struck hard with the realization this wasn't difficult. For the last 2 1/2 years I struggled with my running. I was always tired, found myself walking on runs I could do easily before.
A trip to the doctor told me I was severely anemic. Despite iron and a diet strong in iron, I was still struggling. Last September I ran The Tunnel Lite Marathon and at this race I hit rock bottom. The day before the race, we discovered my Mom's cancer was no longer treatable and thus putting me emotionally unavailable to run a marathon. The day of the race I was having medical issues and my anemia griped me tight. Two years of fighting the anemia and it effecting my running as it did, I felt destroyed. The mental crush of the condition had finally broken me. My mind was in a very dark place.
In October I had a procedure done that controlled my medical issues and brought my anemia under control. And right there - somewhere near mile 11 - I realized how good I felt. For the first time in 2 1/2 years I realized how hard running had been for me because of how good I was feeling right at that moment. The feeling was incredibly freeing.
The next miles pass us by as we watch the town starting to come alive. A St. Patty's race was happening in a few hours and we could see the road crew putting up cones to keep runners safe. People were dressed in green.
The park had a steep hill and we grew quiet as we each focused on running the hill strong. Our pace was not faltering despite the hills we were tackling; telling us we were running harder than before. Melissa likes to push herself the last mile of a long run, but coming off a rigorous training week she was content to keep the current pace.
Little did she know.
We are running up the trail closing in on the last mile. My watch chirps 17 miles and with a smile, I pick up the pace. Melissa and Arlane are in conversation and then notice I have pulled ahead. I giggle to myself knowing picking up the pace will spark the competition in them both. .35 miles to go and I hear Melissa calling to me, "Really??"
"You've got .35 miles to go, we are almost done." She picks up the pace, catches me and passes me despite the hill we were cresting. She turns and yells, "You aren't falling behind, stay on my heels."
"Oh, I ain't goin' anywhere sister." and I stay in her shadow.
Arlane is right behind us shouting encouragement to stay strong.
My watch chirps telling us the mile is over and we have just clocked the fastest mile of the day. Mile 18. Uphill. Yea, we just did that.
Sipping our coffee and looking at my friends sitting around the table, it's hard for me not to get emotional. These days I cry a lot but today I felt so happy. My running family who was there for my last few struggling years are there still holding me up and celebrating these small steps I have in getting better. They understand how hard the marathon is, they understand how dark the mental game can be and they stand firmly at my side; they share every step on this road to recovery and I can't help but feel incredibly blessed.
Thursday, February 13, 2014
Awesome Pants
3:12 a.m. I roll over. Over the last 6 weeks I haven't slept much so there was no surprise when the clock told me what I already suspected. Still, I try and sleep.
At 4:00 I hear my oldest call to me from his room. 3 days away from being 17 and he has been sick in bed with the flu for 2 days. In the darkness I find my way to his bedside. He is hot to the touch. I refill his cup with cold water, get a wet washcloth for his forehead and measure out medicine. At 6'2" and knocking on the door of being a grown up, I relish the time I get to dote on him.
I crawl back into bed knowing the 5:00 a.m. alarm will ring in 30 minutes telling me it's time to go run. Every fiber of my being does not want to run. Winds are whipping outside my window and the gusts rattle the panes. A downpour begins so fierce it sounds like rocks bouncing off the skylight.
Ugh.
Right on cue, the alarm rings. The rains have stopped; the winds have not. I continue to lay there. I justify all the reasons why I don't have to run. Yet I know, one of the best things to prevent me swimming in my broken heart is to exercise. As hard as it is to get up in the dark of winter to run, not running is harder.
Getting dressed, I tip toe to the back door and open the slider. The wind is a steady 14 mph with gusts well into the 20s. The wind is from the south, bringing with it warmth in comparison to the 11° we had 4 days previous. The rain clouds had parted great enough to show me the full moon hidden behind them. Warm wind, full moon - these are unexpected surprises I would not have known had I stayed in bed.
Leaving the neighborhood I am faced with a head wind. I tuck my head down to help fight against it. Objects fly around me as I catch glimpses of them in the light cast by my headlamp. Clouds roll quickly across the sky and occasionally the full moon bursts through illuminating the road in front of me.
A mile passes by and my watch chirps. I glance at it and am surprised by the speedy pace I have kept despite the wind. Another mile and a faster pace still. I am grateful I didn't stay in bed. Mid-stride a gust tries to knock me over. I recover and giggle at the absurdity of it all. My neighbors drive by and I know they think I'm crazy. It doesn't matter, I feel good. I decide to tack on another mile to the end of my 5 mile run. My run complete and each mile faster than the previous one. A joy I wouldn't have known had I stayed in bed; a joy that comes only from pushing yourself.
I felt awesome.
Later, as I drove my youngest son to school, we talked of the strong winds blowing and my run earlier that morning. As I dropped him off and he jumped out of the car I told him, "Remember to wear your Awesome Pants today."
He smiled and said, "Mom. I always do." He then reached his hands in the air, began to dance and sang the line from a Lady Gaga song, "Cuz baby I was born that way."
He was still dancing his way into the school as I pulled away. Driving to work, I thought a lot about what he said. As hard as it's been lately and as unmotivated as I have been, God still made me awesome. He made me perfectly me.
The least I can do is put on my Awesome Pants every day.
At 4:00 I hear my oldest call to me from his room. 3 days away from being 17 and he has been sick in bed with the flu for 2 days. In the darkness I find my way to his bedside. He is hot to the touch. I refill his cup with cold water, get a wet washcloth for his forehead and measure out medicine. At 6'2" and knocking on the door of being a grown up, I relish the time I get to dote on him.
I crawl back into bed knowing the 5:00 a.m. alarm will ring in 30 minutes telling me it's time to go run. Every fiber of my being does not want to run. Winds are whipping outside my window and the gusts rattle the panes. A downpour begins so fierce it sounds like rocks bouncing off the skylight.
Ugh.
Right on cue, the alarm rings. The rains have stopped; the winds have not. I continue to lay there. I justify all the reasons why I don't have to run. Yet I know, one of the best things to prevent me swimming in my broken heart is to exercise. As hard as it is to get up in the dark of winter to run, not running is harder.
Getting dressed, I tip toe to the back door and open the slider. The wind is a steady 14 mph with gusts well into the 20s. The wind is from the south, bringing with it warmth in comparison to the 11° we had 4 days previous. The rain clouds had parted great enough to show me the full moon hidden behind them. Warm wind, full moon - these are unexpected surprises I would not have known had I stayed in bed.
Leaving the neighborhood I am faced with a head wind. I tuck my head down to help fight against it. Objects fly around me as I catch glimpses of them in the light cast by my headlamp. Clouds roll quickly across the sky and occasionally the full moon bursts through illuminating the road in front of me.
A mile passes by and my watch chirps. I glance at it and am surprised by the speedy pace I have kept despite the wind. Another mile and a faster pace still. I am grateful I didn't stay in bed. Mid-stride a gust tries to knock me over. I recover and giggle at the absurdity of it all. My neighbors drive by and I know they think I'm crazy. It doesn't matter, I feel good. I decide to tack on another mile to the end of my 5 mile run. My run complete and each mile faster than the previous one. A joy I wouldn't have known had I stayed in bed; a joy that comes only from pushing yourself.
I felt awesome.
Later, as I drove my youngest son to school, we talked of the strong winds blowing and my run earlier that morning. As I dropped him off and he jumped out of the car I told him, "Remember to wear your Awesome Pants today."
He smiled and said, "Mom. I always do." He then reached his hands in the air, began to dance and sang the line from a Lady Gaga song, "Cuz baby I was born that way."
He was still dancing his way into the school as I pulled away. Driving to work, I thought a lot about what he said. As hard as it's been lately and as unmotivated as I have been, God still made me awesome. He made me perfectly me.
The least I can do is put on my Awesome Pants every day.
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
Nookachamps Half Marathon
"The wind will be a head wind the entire race." Terry told us.
It was mile 3 when Karen, Diana and I realized he wasn't kidding. The winds were sustained at 25 mph, gusting up to 50. More than once, if we were caught mid-stride, the wind almost knocked us over.
"This is almost as bad as CIM," Karen recalled.
"Just not as wet," I interject. And as if on cue, the rain starts; feeling like little razors against any exposed skin.
We pass the 10k turn off and I silently wonder if it wouldn't be smarter to make the turn and call it good at 10k versus a half marathon. We continue on.
Diana had run a 100 mile race just 11 days prior and Karen and I passed the time by asking her questions. We both can not wrap our minds around running a distance of 100 miles and Diana is extremely humble in her accomplishment.
We decide if we ever accomplished a 100 mile race, we would find it difficult not to mention this at every presented chance.
It was mile 3 when Karen, Diana and I realized he wasn't kidding. The winds were sustained at 25 mph, gusting up to 50. More than once, if we were caught mid-stride, the wind almost knocked us over.
"This is almost as bad as CIM," Karen recalled.
"Just not as wet," I interject. And as if on cue, the rain starts; feeling like little razors against any exposed skin.
We pass the 10k turn off and I silently wonder if it wouldn't be smarter to make the turn and call it good at 10k versus a half marathon. We continue on.
Diana had run a 100 mile race just 11 days prior and Karen and I passed the time by asking her questions. We both can not wrap our minds around running a distance of 100 miles and Diana is extremely humble in her accomplishment.
We decide if we ever accomplished a 100 mile race, we would find it difficult not to mention this at every presented chance.
"Yes, can I have a nonfat latte please? Because I just ran a hundred-miler."
"I'm going to swing by the store on the way home to pick up milk because I just ran a hundred-miler."
"Hello? Yes, hi. I need to bring my car in for an oil change because I just ran a hundred-miler."
Ok, maybe Karen and I aren't as humble as Diana.
The road we are following turns into the blink-and-you'll-miss-it town of Clear Lake. The rain has let up but not enough to bring on spectators. There are no town folk walking the streets and cheering us on today.
The road we are following turns into the blink-and-you'll-miss-it town of Clear Lake. The rain has let up but not enough to bring on spectators. There are no town folk walking the streets and cheering us on today.
We leave the main street and find ourselves face to face with a decent sized hill. And a head wind. Sigh. Karen has grown quiet and after running together for 4 years, I know she is trying to tap into that inner strength. A mole hill can look like a mountain on any given race day. To hear me above the wind I have to yell, "Shorten the stride, pump your arms!" She nods. We slow our pace knowing we are not racing this half marathon and our pace is irrelevant.
Diana power walks up the hill and keeps pace with us. This makes Karen and I laugh as we realize we definitely are not running a race pace.
At the top of the hill we welcome a slight downhill leading us to the edge of Mud Lake. The next couple of miles we enjoy the flattest part of the course. Farm lands of pastures, horses and cows pepper the route.
Diana power walks up the hill and keeps pace with us. This makes Karen and I laugh as we realize we definitely are not running a race pace.
At the top of the hill we welcome a slight downhill leading us to the edge of Mud Lake. The next couple of miles we enjoy the flattest part of the course. Farm lands of pastures, horses and cows pepper the route.
We have reached the out and back section and begin scanning the faces for people we know. Our friend Steve is braving the elements with his daughter's cross country team and manning an aid station. We give him a high five. The rain has started again and stings our skin.
The rolling hills hit us in the last 3 miles of the course. An eagle screeches and we find it soaring above Barney Lake. A sight so beautiful it takes our breath away. Or maybe it was the 40 mph gust of wind that took our breath away. Yet there it was soaring on the wind that fought against us; spectacular.
The last mile is upon us and we try and pick up the pace so we can finish. We are exhausted from the windy fight and Diana tells us her legs are tired.
...You know, cuz I just ran a hundred-miler.
Finally we are rounding the last corner turning into the parking lot of the Skagit Valley College. The last hill awaits spitting us out onto the oval track and into the finisher's chute.
Each of us is surprised to see the clock read 2:01:35 as we were certain the pace we had been keeping against the wind would have brought us in around 2:10. A volunteer hands us our medals and we head straight to the gym to try and warm up. Diana leaves for home.
Each of us is surprised to see the clock read 2:01:35 as we were certain the pace we had been keeping against the wind would have brought us in around 2:10. A volunteer hands us our medals and we head straight to the gym to try and warm up. Diana leaves for home.
Hot chili awaits and although we've never eaten chili after a race before, we decide it is exactly what we need to try and warm up. It works. We begin feeling our fingers again.
We make our way back to the car and decide it's time to go. Karen confesses miles 10,11 and 12 were very difficult for her. She told me she gave herself a pep talk and asked my Mom to help her finish. Tears brim my eyes.
We make our way back to the car and decide it's time to go. Karen confesses miles 10,11 and 12 were very difficult for her. She told me she gave herself a pep talk and asked my Mom to help her finish. Tears brim my eyes.
I carried my mom with me every step of this race; each step celebrating the life and legacy she left us. She taught us how to persevere and today -despite the elements thrown at us- we persevered.
Thanks Mom.
Thanks Mom.
Sunday, October 20, 2013
The Chicago Marathon
Security is tight. We are entering our specified entry point on Jackson Street in order to make our way to our assigned corral. Security personnel are checking bib numbers making sure we are where we are suppose to be. This is causing a bottle neck, but no one seems to mind. We feel safer.
The Chicago Marathon is the first World Major Marathon on American soil since the terrorism at the Boston Marathon in April. Runners everywhere are wearing items in support of Boston - shirts, hats, bracelets. Pride entwines itself with my pre-race anxiety.
There are 6 World Major Marathons (Berlin, Boston, London, Tokyo, New York, Chicago) and this is my first. There are 40,000 runners making their way around the start village and never once do I feel like I'm being herded. It is evident this race is a well-oiled machine. With the world watching, there are no hiccups.
Stephanie, Pat, Kellan, Kathy, Karen and I are standing in our corral. Security closes the corral 10 minutes before the start of the race and we are safely tucked inside. There is music, there is excitement, there is plenty of nervous energy. Everyone is smiling. The announcer begins to introduce the elite athletes lining the start. We can't see them, but it is awe inspiring knowing they are there to race for their countries.
A woman begins to sing the American National Anthem. Hats are removed and placed over hearts. There is a sense of pride that one can feel permeating the air. Her mic cuts out several times. In unison, 40,000 runners sing the song for her. Voices raised loudly and proudly singing the words which proclaim the love of our country. As we sing the final line "...and the home of the brave" we think not only of our military but also of those brave spectators that lined the streets of Boston that day in April. A single military fighter jet flies over. I watch men and women wipe tears from their eyes.
At 7:30 the race begins. It will take 12 minutes for our corral to reach the start line. It will be well after 8 before the last corral starts. I pass under the arch of the start and take my first steps of my first World Major Marathon. I am running the streets of Chicago.
Pat and Stephanie fall into their pace and are gone. Stephanie would set out and smash her goal of 3:45 and finish with a 3:42:43. After running a 3:39 a few weeks prior, Pat would later finish with another sub-4. Kellan takes off and despite little training due to a hectic college schedule and work, finishes with an impressive 4:22:05.
We enter a tunnel almost immediately and laugh at the men lined against the wall using the wall as a relieving station. Before the race, the porta-potty lines had been long and never moved and one has to do what one has to do I suppose. We are out of the tunnel and now running downtown Chicago.
There are people lining every side of the course cheering for us. I have never seen so many people at the start of a marathon solely to cheer us on. We are weaving through
the streets. All around me are sights I have seen from my previous 3 days in Chicago. My first time visiting this city and I am mesmerized by it's beauty. Things I've only seen in pictures are now in my sights in front of me.
Kathy, Karen and I try and talk, the crowds are screaming so loudly for us it makes it impossible to hear each other. It doesn't matter, we are lost in the wonder of it all. We've run countless miles together and we understand our silence just as much as we understand our thoughts. Mile 5 comes and I make my first - of what would be later 4 - pit stops. They continue on.
Around Mile 6 I look to my right and see the lake in the distance. I try and tell those around me to look but my words are drowned in the excitement of the crowd. I notice a man up ahead looking up toward a second floor of a building. He waves. Upon reaching the building I notice it is a rest home. It's residents sitting in wheel chairs gazing out the window down on the runners. I smile and wave. I thank God for my ability to run.
We reach a turn around point and head back toward the city. It is mile 8 and the crowds have not thinned out. People are still screaming for us, their energy propelling us forward. I see a man dressed in a Sponge Bob Square Pants costume blowing a horn. I laugh as I know if my youngest son had been there, that would have been him.
The course brings us through a variety of neighborhoods. Each one proud of their heritage. Runners from all over the world are running next to me. Some in shirts proudly declaring their nationality, others carrying flags. A man standing along the course, in USA attire, screams in excitement for the runner next to me, "GO MEXICO!!!" The man gives him a smile and a thumbs up. I love the unconditional acceptance and wish that kind of exuberance was seen every day.
To my right I see a large group of girls, dressed the same, holding encouraging signs all with different slogans, but on the same paper. I read "This is not your practice life". And it hits an emotional nerve. I had hoped this would be my race, but events and situations would prevent me from racing. Rather than be upset, I took my Mom's mantra of 'It is what it is' and I decide to make the best of every situation. Although my anemia would keep me from racing this race, it could not keep me from enjoying every single step. And I was.
I am at the half way mark and knowing the elite athletes are already finished, I wonder who won the race. Someone comes up next to me and yells in my ear, "Hey Maniac!" I am in my Marathon Maniac shirt and as I turn I expect to see a fellow Maniac next to me. I am right. He tries to talk to me and I to him, but the crowd noise is so loud we can not understand what the other is saying. He bids me well, and gently pushes me forward.
Aid stations are roughly a mile apart, making it easy to push yourself forward. "Just get to the next aid station, just get to the next aid station" helped each mile click by. I would walk the distance of the water tables which was perfect for bringing my heart rate down and keeping my anemia in check. I was feeling strong.
Compete strangers would bring me bits of inspiration from home. A song my husband loved while we were dating blared from speakers as I ran through a neighborhood. Soldiers lined another section handing out high fives remind me of my oldest and his love of everything military. I spot a woman holding a sign; she has used a four letter word in her effort to tell cancer what she thinks of it. I think of my mom, and understand that woman's sentiment exactly.
It is somewhere around mile 23 when I hear someone scream my name. I am completely confused. I remember I have written my name on my bib, and conclude they are cheering me on. Then, I hear it again but coming from behind me. I turn to find Kathy and Karen running to catch up to me. How did I get ahead of them? One of the many mysteries of the marathon. Karen's legs are angry with her and won't let her do what she wants to do.
We try to run together; yet with my mom firmly planted in my mind, I push ahead. The miles click off and I realize I am in my final miles of the Chicago Marathon. The crowds are still thick along the course cheering us on. It is as if the people of Chicago came out in pure defiance against the bombings in Boston. Nothing was going to stop this town from supporting us. The thought brings me tears.
The final turn lies ahead. It is a hill and it is difficult to run against after 26 miles of running. I push forward knowing how difficult chemo treatments have been for my mom yet you'd never know as she has never once complained. I am in the chute and the finish line lies ahead. My mom is in her final battle against the cancer that holds her. The irony is not lost on me. I cross the finish line at 4:29:37 with my head held high and my hands raised in victory just as mom has taught us in the way she lives her life. This is not my practice life.
A volunteer drapes a medal around my neck. Tears sting my eyes. I give high fives to every volunteer lining the chute. I celebrate the finish, I celebrate every bit of inspiration that got me there, I celebrate the life God gave me that is worth living. No matter what I am faced with, life is still worth celebrating even while standing at the finish line. My mom taught me that.
The Chicago Marathon is the first World Major Marathon on American soil since the terrorism at the Boston Marathon in April. Runners everywhere are wearing items in support of Boston - shirts, hats, bracelets. Pride entwines itself with my pre-race anxiety.
There are 6 World Major Marathons (Berlin, Boston, London, Tokyo, New York, Chicago) and this is my first. There are 40,000 runners making their way around the start village and never once do I feel like I'm being herded. It is evident this race is a well-oiled machine. With the world watching, there are no hiccups.
Stephanie, Pat, Kellan, Kathy, Karen and I are standing in our corral. Security closes the corral 10 minutes before the start of the race and we are safely tucked inside. There is music, there is excitement, there is plenty of nervous energy. Everyone is smiling. The announcer begins to introduce the elite athletes lining the start. We can't see them, but it is awe inspiring knowing they are there to race for their countries.
A woman begins to sing the American National Anthem. Hats are removed and placed over hearts. There is a sense of pride that one can feel permeating the air. Her mic cuts out several times. In unison, 40,000 runners sing the song for her. Voices raised loudly and proudly singing the words which proclaim the love of our country. As we sing the final line "...and the home of the brave" we think not only of our military but also of those brave spectators that lined the streets of Boston that day in April. A single military fighter jet flies over. I watch men and women wipe tears from their eyes.
.jpg) |
| The start line the day before the marathon. |
Pat and Stephanie fall into their pace and are gone. Stephanie would set out and smash her goal of 3:45 and finish with a 3:42:43. After running a 3:39 a few weeks prior, Pat would later finish with another sub-4. Kellan takes off and despite little training due to a hectic college schedule and work, finishes with an impressive 4:22:05.
We enter a tunnel almost immediately and laugh at the men lined against the wall using the wall as a relieving station. Before the race, the porta-potty lines had been long and never moved and one has to do what one has to do I suppose. We are out of the tunnel and now running downtown Chicago.
There are people lining every side of the course cheering for us. I have never seen so many people at the start of a marathon solely to cheer us on. We are weaving through
Kathy, Karen and I try and talk, the crowds are screaming so loudly for us it makes it impossible to hear each other. It doesn't matter, we are lost in the wonder of it all. We've run countless miles together and we understand our silence just as much as we understand our thoughts. Mile 5 comes and I make my first - of what would be later 4 - pit stops. They continue on.
Around Mile 6 I look to my right and see the lake in the distance. I try and tell those around me to look but my words are drowned in the excitement of the crowd. I notice a man up ahead looking up toward a second floor of a building. He waves. Upon reaching the building I notice it is a rest home. It's residents sitting in wheel chairs gazing out the window down on the runners. I smile and wave. I thank God for my ability to run.
We reach a turn around point and head back toward the city. It is mile 8 and the crowds have not thinned out. People are still screaming for us, their energy propelling us forward. I see a man dressed in a Sponge Bob Square Pants costume blowing a horn. I laugh as I know if my youngest son had been there, that would have been him.
The course brings us through a variety of neighborhoods. Each one proud of their heritage. Runners from all over the world are running next to me. Some in shirts proudly declaring their nationality, others carrying flags. A man standing along the course, in USA attire, screams in excitement for the runner next to me, "GO MEXICO!!!" The man gives him a smile and a thumbs up. I love the unconditional acceptance and wish that kind of exuberance was seen every day.
To my right I see a large group of girls, dressed the same, holding encouraging signs all with different slogans, but on the same paper. I read "This is not your practice life". And it hits an emotional nerve. I had hoped this would be my race, but events and situations would prevent me from racing. Rather than be upset, I took my Mom's mantra of 'It is what it is' and I decide to make the best of every situation. Although my anemia would keep me from racing this race, it could not keep me from enjoying every single step. And I was.
I am at the half way mark and knowing the elite athletes are already finished, I wonder who won the race. Someone comes up next to me and yells in my ear, "Hey Maniac!" I am in my Marathon Maniac shirt and as I turn I expect to see a fellow Maniac next to me. I am right. He tries to talk to me and I to him, but the crowd noise is so loud we can not understand what the other is saying. He bids me well, and gently pushes me forward.
Aid stations are roughly a mile apart, making it easy to push yourself forward. "Just get to the next aid station, just get to the next aid station" helped each mile click by. I would walk the distance of the water tables which was perfect for bringing my heart rate down and keeping my anemia in check. I was feeling strong.
Compete strangers would bring me bits of inspiration from home. A song my husband loved while we were dating blared from speakers as I ran through a neighborhood. Soldiers lined another section handing out high fives remind me of my oldest and his love of everything military. I spot a woman holding a sign; she has used a four letter word in her effort to tell cancer what she thinks of it. I think of my mom, and understand that woman's sentiment exactly.
It is somewhere around mile 23 when I hear someone scream my name. I am completely confused. I remember I have written my name on my bib, and conclude they are cheering me on. Then, I hear it again but coming from behind me. I turn to find Kathy and Karen running to catch up to me. How did I get ahead of them? One of the many mysteries of the marathon. Karen's legs are angry with her and won't let her do what she wants to do.
We try to run together; yet with my mom firmly planted in my mind, I push ahead. The miles click off and I realize I am in my final miles of the Chicago Marathon. The crowds are still thick along the course cheering us on. It is as if the people of Chicago came out in pure defiance against the bombings in Boston. Nothing was going to stop this town from supporting us. The thought brings me tears.
The final turn lies ahead. It is a hill and it is difficult to run against after 26 miles of running. I push forward knowing how difficult chemo treatments have been for my mom yet you'd never know as she has never once complained. I am in the chute and the finish line lies ahead. My mom is in her final battle against the cancer that holds her. The irony is not lost on me. I cross the finish line at 4:29:37 with my head held high and my hands raised in victory just as mom has taught us in the way she lives her life. This is not my practice life.
A volunteer drapes a medal around my neck. Tears sting my eyes. I give high fives to every volunteer lining the chute. I celebrate the finish, I celebrate every bit of inspiration that got me there, I celebrate the life God gave me that is worth living. No matter what I am faced with, life is still worth celebrating even while standing at the finish line. My mom taught me that.
Monday, September 9, 2013
Hoodlums in The Hood
Their flight was late giving my brother-in-law Dave, my son Stefan and I lazy moments for light conversation around the patio table. It was a perfectly warm Sunday evening and despite the calendar reading September, it still felt like summer. Thirty minutes later my aunt's van pulls into my parent's driveway next door. We soon hear laughter. My Aunt Alice and cousin Kate have just arrived from Arizona.
We are now standing in mom's kitchen placing groceries in the fridge. After a brief discussion and entirely too much math, we calculate it has been 30 years since Kate has been to our small town. Weird as we are all only 28. The weather is too nice and we decide we need to move our conversation outside. I glance up and notice two teenage boys walking down the street in front of the house.
"Who are those kids?" I ask my mom. They look out of place.
"I have no idea. I've never seen them before."
I move to the back hall and stop as I see them loitering around the back of Stefan's car. Although still on the sidewalk, they have obscured themselves at the edge of my parent's property. One of the boys raises his hand and takes the stance of a pitcher, winding up to throw something at one of the cars. I yell "HEY!!!" from inside the house as the object launches full force into the side of my aunt's van. The two teenage boys take off running.
Leaping the 4 steps in one giant step, I am out the door in a full sprint. As I cross the driveway, I huck the flip flops off my feet. Once at the edge of the property I see the boys on the other side of the block. They see me coming and take off running. Fine. I can play this game too.
Within seconds I have crossed a main street and am in full pursuit of these boys. I contemplate stopping. I mean, really, what in the world am I going to do once I catch these kids? I realize I'm gaining on them. The one who threw - what appeared to be an apple - turns around. He sees me still in a full sprint and gaining on him. The look he gave was pure fear.
There was no quitting now. That look was all I needed and I found another gear. I'm pretty sure I passed a cheetah like it was standing still.
We round a corner and the one who threw the object turns and finds me 15 feet behind him. He realizes I am not going anywhere but on his tail. He stops and a nano second later I have grabbed the collar of his shirt. He looks ready to throw up. I've seen that look before many times at a finish line.
"What in the world do you think you were doing?" I yell. Yes, yell. My flaring temper may have actually been physically visible.
"I didn't throw anything!! I didn't throw anything!!" He cries.
"Well, I never said you threw anything now did I?" My grip on his shirt tightens. He tries to get away. I horse collar him and tell him - in the meanest Mama Bear voice ever heard on the face of the planet - "YOU ARE COMING WITH ME."
"Why? I didn't throw anything! I didn't throw anything!!" He tries to pull away.
The collar of his shirt is firmly in my grasp and I pull him along. I feel like I'm trying to lead a horse to drink.
"Where are you taking me?" He asks with fear in his voice.
"You are coming back to the house and we are going to see if you caused any damage to my aunt's van. And if you did, you are going to pay for it."
"I didn't throw anything!!"
"I suggest you stop lying to me -, " I pause, "-What's your name?"
"Carlos."
I see tomato smeared all down the sides of Aunt Mari's white van.
Within seconds Carlos has my mom on one side of him and Aunt Mari on the other. If Carlos thought he got an earful from me on respect, he was about to learn from the masters. I am leaned against the patio table, trying to catch my breath and I hear my two favorite women in the whole world begin to impart wisdom on young Carlos. A lifetime of being together, they bounce their conversation back and forth against Carlos.
My sister Amy casually walks up behind Carlos and says, "You messed with the wrong woman. See that woman there?" She points to me. "She runs marathons. You'll never out run her."
My mom and Aunt Mari, thoroughly convinced our job of educating Carlos is complete, send him on his way.
I am tired, I sit in the chair. I just ran a quarter mile at a top sprint while barefoot. Oy vey, my marathon is in one week. Lord, I hope I didn't just screw that up.
We all start to giggle. None of us can believe what just transpired. We all talk at once and our laughter grows louder.
Amy comes to the table and states, "I'm pretty sure you scared him Cheri."
I start giggling again. "Yea, you should have seen the look on his face when he turned around the second time and saw me gaining on him."
Amy asks, "So do you think that is the point when he peed his pants?"
And that my friends, I am most certain, is when Carlos could here us laughing as he ran away a second time. This time, there was no need to chase him as I am certain he learned a lesson he will never forget.
Mission accomplished.
Moral of the story : Don't mess with a mom who owns running shoes.
We are now standing in mom's kitchen placing groceries in the fridge. After a brief discussion and entirely too much math, we calculate it has been 30 years since Kate has been to our small town. Weird as we are all only 28. The weather is too nice and we decide we need to move our conversation outside. I glance up and notice two teenage boys walking down the street in front of the house.
"Who are those kids?" I ask my mom. They look out of place.
"I have no idea. I've never seen them before."
I move to the back hall and stop as I see them loitering around the back of Stefan's car. Although still on the sidewalk, they have obscured themselves at the edge of my parent's property. One of the boys raises his hand and takes the stance of a pitcher, winding up to throw something at one of the cars. I yell "HEY!!!" from inside the house as the object launches full force into the side of my aunt's van. The two teenage boys take off running.
Leaping the 4 steps in one giant step, I am out the door in a full sprint. As I cross the driveway, I huck the flip flops off my feet. Once at the edge of the property I see the boys on the other side of the block. They see me coming and take off running. Fine. I can play this game too.
Within seconds I have crossed a main street and am in full pursuit of these boys. I contemplate stopping. I mean, really, what in the world am I going to do once I catch these kids? I realize I'm gaining on them. The one who threw - what appeared to be an apple - turns around. He sees me still in a full sprint and gaining on him. The look he gave was pure fear.
There was no quitting now. That look was all I needed and I found another gear. I'm pretty sure I passed a cheetah like it was standing still.
I discovered when one is running on 100% adrenaline, crazy and insane thoughts race through one's mind. This shouldn't surprise me, after all, there was absolutely nothing sane about a barefoot 44 year old mother of two chasing down 2 teenage boys. Yet there I was in a full sprint through the streets of town. A small town where everyone knows everyone else's business. Is the phone ringing at my parent's house yet?
Dang it. I wish I had my Garmin.
I am running a marathon in a week and I'm suppose to be running short, leisurely miles.
This isn't leisurely.
This better be short.
How fast am I going? Fast.
Cheri, you are going fast.
HA! That kid is slowing.
Where the heck is my brother in law?
I WISH I HAD MY GARMIN!
We round a corner and the one who threw the object turns and finds me 15 feet behind him. He realizes I am not going anywhere but on his tail. He stops and a nano second later I have grabbed the collar of his shirt. He looks ready to throw up. I've seen that look before many times at a finish line.
Welcome to the big leagues kid.
"What in the world do you think you were doing?" I yell. Yes, yell. My flaring temper may have actually been physically visible.
"I didn't throw anything!! I didn't throw anything!!" He cries.
"Well, I never said you threw anything now did I?" My grip on his shirt tightens. He tries to get away. I horse collar him and tell him - in the meanest Mama Bear voice ever heard on the face of the planet - "YOU ARE COMING WITH ME."
"Why? I didn't throw anything! I didn't throw anything!!" He tries to pull away.
The collar of his shirt is firmly in my grasp and I pull him along. I feel like I'm trying to lead a horse to drink.
"Where are you taking me?" He asks with fear in his voice.
"You are coming back to the house and we are going to see if you caused any damage to my aunt's van. And if you did, you are going to pay for it."
"I didn't throw anything!!"
"I suggest you stop lying to me -, " I pause, "-What's your name?"
"Carlos."
"Well Carlos, I suggest you stop lying to me because I watched you throw something at my aunt's van. And if you tell me one more time you didn't throw anything I'll take that as you calling me a liar. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?" Mama Bear voice again.
"Ok."
"Carlos. It's time you learned a little about respect. I am willing to bet your mama taught you better than this. Taking something and throwing it at someone else's property is completely disrespectful and not to mention rude. We DO NOT damage other people's property. That van was not yours to touch. You had no right to do what you did. You need to show a little respect to the hard work people have put in to buy their property. Do you understand me Carlos?".
"Yes. Can you let go of my shirt?"
"No."
I become aware of the town folk driving by and staring at me - the crazed 44 year old woman with the tall teenage boy's shirt collar firmly in her grasp.
"Please?"
"NO."
We round the final corner taking us to my parent's street. I see my cousin Kate pacing nervously in the driveway. She looks up and sees the two of us approaching - me stomping; the kid still trying to catch his breath. She turns to speak to someone to her left and I read her lips saying, "Oh my gosh, she caught the kid." We come to the property and the family greets us. All of them. Every.Single.One. My Aunt Mari, my mom, my sister Amy, her two kids, my boys as well as my visiting Aunt Alice and cousin Kate.
"Hello everyone. This is Carlos. We are here to check the damage he did to your car Aunt Mari."
"Ok."
"Carlos. It's time you learned a little about respect. I am willing to bet your mama taught you better than this. Taking something and throwing it at someone else's property is completely disrespectful and not to mention rude. We DO NOT damage other people's property. That van was not yours to touch. You had no right to do what you did. You need to show a little respect to the hard work people have put in to buy their property. Do you understand me Carlos?".
"Yes. Can you let go of my shirt?"
"No."
I become aware of the town folk driving by and staring at me - the crazed 44 year old woman with the tall teenage boy's shirt collar firmly in her grasp.
Oh my, do those people go to my parent's church?
Why are there so many cars?
I think half the town is driving by right now.
"Please?"
"NO."
We round the final corner taking us to my parent's street. I see my cousin Kate pacing nervously in the driveway. She looks up and sees the two of us approaching - me stomping; the kid still trying to catch his breath. She turns to speak to someone to her left and I read her lips saying, "Oh my gosh, she caught the kid." We come to the property and the family greets us. All of them. Every.Single.One. My Aunt Mari, my mom, my sister Amy, her two kids, my boys as well as my visiting Aunt Alice and cousin Kate.
"Hello everyone. This is Carlos. We are here to check the damage he did to your car Aunt Mari."
I see tomato smeared all down the sides of Aunt Mari's white van.
Within seconds Carlos has my mom on one side of him and Aunt Mari on the other. If Carlos thought he got an earful from me on respect, he was about to learn from the masters. I am leaned against the patio table, trying to catch my breath and I hear my two favorite women in the whole world begin to impart wisdom on young Carlos. A lifetime of being together, they bounce their conversation back and forth against Carlos.
You should know better.
How old are you?
A sophomore? A sophomore!
You oughta know better.
Cheri, bring Carlos the hose. He's going to wash the van.
You need to apologize to my sister.
You missed a spot here Carlos.
One doesn't throw things at other people's cars.
What were you thinking.
Carlos, here's a spot.
Do you think you learned a lesson here?
My mom and Aunt Mari, thoroughly convinced our job of educating Carlos is complete, send him on his way.
I am tired, I sit in the chair. I just ran a quarter mile at a top sprint while barefoot. Oy vey, my marathon is in one week. Lord, I hope I didn't just screw that up.
We all start to giggle. None of us can believe what just transpired. We all talk at once and our laughter grows louder.
Amy comes to the table and states, "I'm pretty sure you scared him Cheri."
I start giggling again. "Yea, you should have seen the look on his face when he turned around the second time and saw me gaining on him."
Amy asks, "So do you think that is the point when he peed his pants?"
And that my friends, I am most certain, is when Carlos could here us laughing as he ran away a second time. This time, there was no need to chase him as I am certain he learned a lesson he will never forget.
Mission accomplished.
Moral of the story : Don't mess with a mom who owns running shoes.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Blessings
It's a little after 5 a.m. and it's dark. Summer is about to end despite my efforts to hang onto it. The air is chilly enough to warrant long sleeves, yet I refuse. Tank tops and skirts need to be worn as long as possible; a rule written in stone in the Cheri's Laws of Running book. It's a classic.
Today's run is a simple 4 mile run; 2 miles out and 2 miles back. My legs crave the simple. Monday night's brutal track workout of ten 800 meter repeats left me spent and excited. My pace was spot on for each repeat which fuels my confidence for my upcoming marathon. 10 hours after completing the track workout, my girlfriend Corrinna and I are running our normal 6 mile loop. My legs were shot but we still managed a good, strong pace. This Wednesday morning, I was having no trouble keeping my 4 easy miles, easy.
A full, blue moon glows in the western sky. I realize the beauty of the full moon is magnified because of the darkness of this morning; an upside to shorter days I suppose.
God and I start a conversation. I pour my heart out onto His ears. He responds by smothering me in peace. All around me it is quiet. The only sound I hear is my shoes hitting the gravel. My mind quiets.
The sun is beginning to rise over Mount Baker as I turn around at the 2 mile mark. Birds begin their song. The view is incredible. I feel blessed.
My mind begins to wander and I dwell on the unknown future.
I stop.
I look at the sunrise.
God reminds me I have been given this day and this day only. I must enjoy the blessings given me on this day. With the sunrise before me, I make my way toward home. I quietly open the slider door and walk into my home. A home full of blessings to enjoy.
Today's run is a simple 4 mile run; 2 miles out and 2 miles back. My legs crave the simple. Monday night's brutal track workout of ten 800 meter repeats left me spent and excited. My pace was spot on for each repeat which fuels my confidence for my upcoming marathon. 10 hours after completing the track workout, my girlfriend Corrinna and I are running our normal 6 mile loop. My legs were shot but we still managed a good, strong pace. This Wednesday morning, I was having no trouble keeping my 4 easy miles, easy.
A full, blue moon glows in the western sky. I realize the beauty of the full moon is magnified because of the darkness of this morning; an upside to shorter days I suppose.
God and I start a conversation. I pour my heart out onto His ears. He responds by smothering me in peace. All around me it is quiet. The only sound I hear is my shoes hitting the gravel. My mind quiets.
The sun is beginning to rise over Mount Baker as I turn around at the 2 mile mark. Birds begin their song. The view is incredible. I feel blessed.
My mind begins to wander and I dwell on the unknown future.
I stop.
I look at the sunrise.
God reminds me I have been given this day and this day only. I must enjoy the blessings given me on this day. With the sunrise before me, I make my way toward home. I quietly open the slider door and walk into my home. A home full of blessings to enjoy.
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