Fighting For Justice, Every Step Of The Way

"Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere."

Those words were penned from the Birmingham jail in 1963. The great civil rights champion and lover of justice, Martin Luther King, Jr. wrote them. And they still ring true today. I have wondered, as I have laid awake nights turning the injustice of proposed Amendment One over in my mind, what Martin Luther King, Jr. would have thought of this latest civil rights war we wage. I can't imagine he would be pleased.

What Martin Luther King, Jr. and I have in common is our love of justice and our love for Jesus, which the American church likes to preach is incongruent. Sometimes I wonder if other Christians got handed a different Bible on the day of their salvation than I got handed on the day of mine. I wonder this because my Bible clearly says to "act justly, love mercy and walk humbly with God" (Micah 6:8). I fail to find a dividing line anywhere within those words, instead for me they sponsor unity.

Somewhere, in this Christian church that I love, we lost sight of humility and climbed up on a high horse of judgment as if we were supreme. This stands in juxtaposition to the gospel which tells us to love those that are NOT like us more than we love those who are (Luke 14:12-14). Yet we huddle together in our Sunday School classes and post-church lunch groups, pockets of exclusivity, not lovers of the persecuted. A spirit of lowliness does not dictate that we behave with self-importance; rather a contrite heart demands that we exhibit a spirit of forbearance - always, in every circumstance - not just sometimes when it doesn't offend our skewed sense of right-living.

I am tired of discrimination hidden under the cloak of doctrine. I've grown weary of hypocrisy disguised as holiness. "A tyrant will always find a pretext for his tyranny, and it is useless for the innocent to try by reasoning to get justice, when the oppressor intends to be unjust." Let's just call it what it is: Injustice. Whether the motivation is fear or hatred or perceived righteousness doesn't matter, the outcome is the same - oppression.

Let's set aside the fact that this civil rights issue should not even be on the ballot because freedom should not be open for debate and let's look at what is really at stake with this amendment. The amendment would strip insurance benefits to thousands of people in our state. Further, courts could, on the basis of their interpretation of the amendment, impede the rights of hundreds of thousands of North Carolinians - straight and gay - which would create potentially catastrophic consequences to victims of domestic violence. Existing child custody and visitation laws that have been put in place to PROTECT children could be affected.

North Carolina passed the School Violence Prevention Act in 2009 because our legislators realized that ALL children have the right to be educated in a safe environment. And yet here we are, two years later, reversing forward motion. To cast a vote for this amendment is to cast a vote for martial law. That is why I have chosen to vote AGAINST the Amendment on May 8th.

"This is the moment. It's on the line. What are you gonna do...It's YOUR life."

What can you do to help? First, get informed about the amendment. Then be sure to tell others what you've learned. You can also sign up to volunteer with The Coalition to Protect NC Families. If you use Facebook or Twitter you can lend your account to the cause by clicking here. But, the most important thing that you can do is to join me in voting AGAINST the amendment on May 8th. Stand up and be counted. Tell North Carolina that you believe in justice for all.

Whether you are gay or straight, Christian or Jew, Republican or Democrat doesn't matter. The thing that trumps the labels that are placed upon us is our humanity, our unique ability to experience empathy and compassion for others. "Voters on both sides of the aisle understand that this is not about affirming marriage equality; it's simply about stopping hate and bigotry." And that serves us all well.

New Year, New Beginning!

"Live a life of purpose - what other choice is there?" - Me

I don't particularly hold with New Year's resolutions. They're about as full of empty promises as a politician's election-year speeches. In fact, I have never made a New Year's resolution that I've actually kept - it goes back to that "fickle at heart, random at best" thing that I talked about recently. Instead of making sanctimonious declarations once a year in some drunken haze of clarity, I find it to be much more expeditious to set highly acheivable short and long term goals. So, in the advantageous spirit of this blog, here are my goals for 2012 which should, in no way, be mistaken for resolutions.

Without further ado, Runner Girl's top 12 goals for 2012...because a top 10 is entirely predictable and decidedly boring...

12. Get organized. Be inspired.
I haven't touched my scrapbooks since my grandfather died. I recently found a box of photos that brought back a flood of wonderful memories - my friends in Nashville, when my nephews were babies, my first race - and I aim to get them out of that box and into those albums this year. I also plan to put together a scrapbook for Boston who, as the youngest of three children, has gotten left behind on the scrapbook train.

11. A little more than I can give, a little more than I deserve.
It's been almost five years since my last international mission trip. I'm taking one this spring and it's the most dangerous one yet. I can't tell you about it yet but I have full faith that hearts will be rended and lives will be changed, no doubt mine will be among them.

10. Reconnect and rediscover.
Until this past October I had not touched my violin in 3 years. I've been taking music lessons again and am loving the time spent in isolation practicing and learning anew. I'm taking on this piece next...

9. Above all else, be obedient.
I am making the move out to Church at Charlotte official this year. I'm done splitting fences and fighting battles that I cannot win. I will be obedient and take this leap of faith. In keeping with this commitment, I am vowing to spend more time in the Word. I already engage in a daily quiet time but I'm taking that one step further by doing a comprehensive study this year.

8. You're never too old to learn.
School starts back for me in two days. Ask me what I plan to do with my life and I will lead you down a rabbit trail of ADHD. I still love the idea of flight nursing but the more time that I spend in the UFS office the more that I harken back to my first love, counseling. I'm going to continue to grow and learn and have faith that somewhere a path will reveal itself like something out of a perfectly appointed Frost poem.

7. Put your money where your mouth is.
I am committing a part of my income each month to help fund the new 80- bed Battered Women's Shelter currently being built in Charlotte. I give my time and ask others to give of their resources as well. I am extending my commitment one further to help meet AND EXCEED the needs of our Capitol Campaign. Everyone deserves a safe place to call home. Join me?

6. You can't pour from an empty pitcher.
This year I plan to take a vacation that does not include running a race, saving a people group or working remotely. I'm pretty sure that I don't actually know how to do this, but by golly, I plan to try.

5. If you can't change your circumstance, change your zip code.
I've been making plans to move for several months. But, we're in a bad economy and finances are tight, so I have yet to be able to actually make this come to fruition. I sat down with my friend Molly today and set out a strict budget that will get me out of the tragic circumstance that I currently live in. Sometimes moving on means moving out!

4. It's the .2 that kills you.
Marathon training, take 3. Or 4. I've lost count. Starting Tuesday Runner Girl is lacing up her new kicks and hitting the ground running with Hal Higdon's Intermediate II program. My race is in Nashville at the end of April - Happy Birthday to me! Along the way I will run RaceFest in Charlotte and cheer on Christa at Boston. She makes me want to be more.

3. Live well, love much, laugh often.
I try to resolve each day to simply do my best at whatever comes my way in any given moment. Sometimes I fail with all the grandeur of a New Year's Eve fireworks display. I've been ready for a new year and a clean slate for quite some time. 2011 has not been all that kind to me. And yet, I've tried to make lemonade from lemons, which has made sweet moments bloom in my heart despite bitter circumstance. This year I plan to continue to choose joy, give hope and live out loud.

2. Always give thanks.
I'm convinced that what I most often lack is perspective. I have so much to be thankful for. As a reminder to live with gratitude, I am joining Kim Honeycutt's Koko Vision and helping her make a difference in the life of a child. Simple things mean so much. Learn more about Kim's Koko Vision here.

If you are reading along and wondering where I'm going to find the time, you are not alone. :)

I don't sleep much these days. I find myself lying awake, my mind going at full clip. My friend Joey says that I have hamsters in my head. I think I just have passion in my heart. The work that I do gets down in my soul and churns around, keeping me awake at night. That's how I know that it has purpose. That's how I know it's bigger than myself. That's what makes it worthwhile. That's how I know it's what I was born to do.

My spiritual gift, I think, is mercy - the ability to see in others what needs to be healed and to feel with true empathy how best help accomplish that. But I also possess the wisdom to know my limits - contrary to popular belief, I DO know my limits. I'm fully confident that there is a God, and certain that I am not Him. I align myself with amazing organizations, like UFS, that can offer resources when my compassion is not enough, but most days I find that all anyone needs is a little grace and mercy. And that's my number one goal for the year...to live my life with a spirit of forebearance...one blessed day at a time.

Merry Christmas From Runner Girl!

I never got around to sending Christmas cards this year. Consider this my eco-friendly Christmas card, sent in love to all of you.

Our family friends, The Jollys, gave me an awesome Christmas card this year and I loved it so much that I have used it as the base for this blog.

This past year has certainly been a journey. I logged hundreds of miles and millions of memories.

"The gift of love is continuous..."

Along the way, I lost a few friends and gained a new hero. In case you missed that blog, his name is Isaac and he is a 14 year old brain cancer survivor. He's spending Christmas at home with his family this year after a 9 month stay at St. Jude.

"Peace is not a season, it is a way of life..."

This year, I found a way to help promote peace and give hope within my own community by volunteering at United Family Services as a rape crisis companion, and in doing so, I found a family that I never knew I had. We are bonded, not by blood, but by a desire to serve others.

"Look at the world through the eyes of a child..."

This year I started a new job. Every day I have the supreme privilege of spending time with a blessing of a boy, Boston, who teaches me about the person I want to be - one who trusts more, worries less and loves without limit. And I get to spend time with his two sisters who encourage me to have fun and live life with reckless abandon. For this I'm thankful.

"It is better to give than to receive..."

This year I learned that I have the kind of friends who will do anything for me, even if it doesn't matter to them, simply because it matters to me. In one word: Selfless. And I feel the same about them. Sometimes water IS thicker than blood, despite the rumor to the contrary.

"Miracles do happen..."

This year I learned that miracles happen. This time last year my Aunt Gayle was coming awake after 22 days of unconciousness in ICU and a hopeless prognosis. This year she is sitting to my right at the dinner table, proof that you can beat the odds if faith speaks.

"Love one another..."

This year I learned that strength is often born of pain as I watched my Aunt Angie battle breast cancer for the second time. This is also taught me that life is not fair, but it is what we make of it. Attitude is everything and love is all that matters.

This year I learned that it is possible for your heart to break so profoundly that it takes your breath away and I learned that there can be joy even in the midst of that. At the end of the day, at the end of a year, at the end of a life - this message still rings true: There is hope. One life can light the darkness. So we press on. In Jesus name, we press on.

Wishing everyone a 2012 full of growth and new discovery!

Love, Jessi

St. Jude Half Marathon 2011

This is story of both triumph and defeat, of pain and of glory. This is a story of hope.

I trained hard this year. I had a dream. And then I fractured a vertebrae in my back. Slowly, depsite my desire for it not to be so, I watched my dream of running my first full marathon fade away. But I because I preach - and fervently believe - that you should do what you can and do it with your whole heart, I decided to run the half marathon anyway.

I was nervous this morning...I almost didn't get out of the car. I asked myself why I was doing this. What was it all for? Now I know the answer to that question. His name is Isaac.

I was hurting before I even started running. The cold had me all clenched up. I considered bowing out but somehow I found myself lining up at the start. I was running. By mile 4 I didn't think I could keep going. And then I looked to the right and saw the golden globe that graces the top of St. Jude's Children's Research Hospital. In that moment I looked outside of my circumstance and saw the big picture. This race wasn't about me. It was about a cause. It was about kids with cancer. I continued to run.

We turned the corner and entered the grounds of the hospital. There were signs everywhere that said, "Thank you for being a hero for the children of St. Jude." And then I saw another sign. It said, "Isaac - 14 years old - brain cancer survivor." I almost didn't see Isaac himself under all of the blankets. He was wearing a mask and a cap. All that I could see were eyes. I stopped running and I knelt down so that I could look Isaac in the eyes and I said to him, "YOU are MY hero." I turned and started running again as Melissa Etheridge sang these words in my ear...

And if you ask me why I am still running, I'll tell you I run for us all. I run for hope...

Hope was the reason that I started running all those years ago and it is the reason that I run today. By the time that I reached the end of the complex I was crying. I haven't stopped since.

At Mile 8 the pain that had been shooting down my left leg gave way to numbness. I couldn't bear my full weight on that side. I limped along. I saw paramedics up ahead and I wondered if I should stop and say that I was in trouble, but I didn't. I continued to move forward. And this is the reason why: Isaac didn't stop. He ran with endurance the race marked out for him. Quitting was not an option.

The next five miles were unbearable. Time and again I stumbled. But I did not fall. And what kept moving me on to the finish line was that image of Isaac and the knowledge that he waited on the other side.

Somewhere around Mile 10, "Seasons of Love" came on my iPod.

"How do you a measure a life... In inches and miles.... Measure in love..."

I heard a whisper in my heart. It said, "You know what to do." And I did. So, after the race, when sweat had mingled with my tears turning me into a 200lb. salt lick, I took my medal over to St. Jude and I left it, with a note, for Isaac.

He was the reason that I finished. I figured it belonged to him. Emblazoned bodly on the front of that medal were the words 2011 FINISHER. Very appropriate for Isaac who just finished chemo and will be going home soon. I learned after the race that Isaac used to run cross country. I plan to see him on the course next year under very different circumstances. I expect that he will claim his own medal at the finish line, probably a few hours ahead of me. I expect this because I know that Isaac will tackle the rest of his life with the same ferocity that he attacked cancer. You can't keep a runner out of the race.

Today, I ran the worst race of my running career. It gave way to the greatest moment in my life - the moment when I learned who I am. I am grateful for the gift of my own reflection in the eyes of a little boy. I will never be the same.

If you would like to learn more about Isaac's fight, make a donation or sign his guestbook, please visit the link below:
http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/isaacwalsh/mystory

Faith Even In Fear - Marathon Training, Week 11

Saturday was my big deal day. I admitted to myself that it was the most important run of my life and then I tried to let that go so that I wouldn't have to carry that burden on the run. Running is about mental toughness and confidence far more than physical aptitude, at least it is for me. When I go out on the course with a calm spirit and centered resolve I do much better than when I worry about the miles ahead and allow myself to be taken over by that panic. Fear is a real and ever-present part of my life. I am always afraid - afraid that I am not loved, that I will disappoint people around me, that I will fail. This running season has been wonderful for me because I have broken down a lot of those barriers. I have believed in myself and been amazed at my own ability as I have set one PR after another this year. I don't typically set PRs. For a long time it seemed like no matter how hard I tried I had hit that plateu where I didn't get worse, but I also didn't get better. It's hard to not feel defeated when you are running at life as fast as you can yet keep finding yourself in the same place, as if you're standing still. But this year, I have been proud of myself and the progress that I have made. With these things in mind, I started out this Saturday with a plan and a purpose. 20 miles now, St. Jude marathon later.

If you recall, I failed miserably at my 18 miler last week. This was stuck in the corner of my mind. Skipping long runs is not sound. It's difficult to mentally overcome and it's how you get hurt, increasing mileage too quickly. I was feeling the pressure - my marathon was excatly 4 weeks away.

I cued up my iPod and started running. I was struggling before I hit mile 3. Here's a little tip, if you ever get a text or tweet while I am ON the run course, it means that I am faltering. Big time. It means that I am walking and working through something. It means I am looking for encouragement. I made the turn onto Cumberland from East. The BFH - Big Freakin Hill - loomed in front of me. I cranked up my iPod and kicked it into high gear. All of a sudden I felt a POP! in my back and felt what I describe as "Alka-Seltzer fizzies" and then came the burn. It wrapped around my side and down across my abdomen and I knew that something was very, very wrong. I made a right instead of a left on Park. I was 4 miles from my car. As I moved back toward the Dowd Y the pain started, throbbing and low at first and then screaming. This was not good. I was in a complete state of panic by the time that I got back to my car. I called my friend Sarah in tears. She immediately said, "I'm coming. I'll go with you to the doctor." I am so thankful for Sarah.

The doctor immediately scared me by saying the two words that I feared most, "Possible fracture." I needed to be anywhere but in that room at that moment. I was a mess. I escaped to my safe place, the Twitterverse. I saw a hilarious conversation between a certain two someones. They were in desperate need of cupcakes. Because I believe that sometimes you have to step out of your circumstance to bring light and kindness to someone else's day, I called up Blake at Sprinkles Bakery and arranged to have cupcakes delivered. The smiles that this random act of kindess brought far outweighed all of my tears. I carried that warmth in my heart through the diagnosis - hairline fracture of my Th 10 vertebrae - as I watched my dreams float away from me.

I spent all of Sunday in a drug-induced haze and evaluated my life. Who am I if I am not a runner? I was surprised to realize that I couldn't answer that question. I watched the coverage of the NY marathon and embraced the sadness that wrapped up with joy as friends who were running this race finished and tweeted happy pictures and stellar times. I was not taking this well. I looked deep inside my soul and I made a decision. I would run on. This dream was too strong. I would not release it without a fight. I had to at least try. People told me it was crazy. And I agreed. The ramifications resounded through my brain. I was in so much pain that I could barely get out of bed. I don't think we realize how much we use our core. We use it to laugh, to speak, to sing (my three favorite things) and to breathe and move (essential functions of life). Having something wrong with your core means that every movement that you make is twisted up in agony. Simple things become impossible. I didn't want to think about what that meant for the 10 mile run that I was planning for the next morning.

On Monday morning I stood on the grounds of the DOWD Y this and I thought through this risk that I was taking - what could be gained, what could be lost. Further injury loomed in front of me like a vicious villian. I knew that this was somewhat suicidal but I reached deep down inside and found my faith. I took a deep breath and cued my iPod. These are the words that came forth - validation if there ever was any -

"I've got a feeling that it's gonna be alright. I don't know where I'm going and I don't know where I'm at..."

I had no idea where I was going to end up on this run, what it would mean for me in terms of my race. And physically, I didn't know where I stood, where I was at. But I had a feeling. It was going to be alright. Every step was like a stab wound at first. By the time I hit mile 2, I was doing okay. I ran another mile or so and started up the BFH. This is where I was injured just two days before. That played with my mind. "We never stop, we never stop..." I kept going. I turned the next corner, the one where I had turned back on Saturday - but this time I wasn't turning back. I was moving on. And I was hurting. I might have possibly screamed a very naughty word before I saw the group of middle schoolers waiting for the bus in front of the Y on Park. So sorry if these were your children.

I made it to the next turn. I was half way there. The last half was unpleasant. I switched off walking and running. I made the turn on to Morehead. Welcome to hell. I have never been so thankful for a stoplight in my life. Never. And then, it was almost over. I was heading up Lexington. On the best of days I hate Lexington. I tucked my head down and crept up the hill. I looked at my stopwatch. I was scared to look. What the...? 1:54? I was going to set a personal record on this course. With a fractured spine and a broken spirit. Best time 2:07. Today's time, 1:58.

There is a quote by Marianne Williamson that I have only ever understood on the periphary, but in an instant it all became crystal clear to me. It says, "Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

This is the lesson. We are stronger than we believe we are. We possess a power that we are unaware of. All we need is a little bit of faith. It's going to be okay. This was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I tweeted, "Running is supposed to hurt. It's victory over pain that makes it great. It's truimph in the face of defeat that makes it worthwhile." And I believe that. This day, I triumphed in the face of defeat. It was not without pain, but pain is temporary. The glory of that moment will last forever.

"It's how you deal with failure that determines how you achieve success." - David Feherty

This resonates with me. If I would have allowed Saturday's defeat to shape my decisions, if I would have allowed fear to paralyze me, if I would have listened to everyone who told me that it could not been done, I woudn't have had this moment of glory. And I give that glory to God. It was my faith in Him and His still, quiet voice that led me on. Life is all about choices. Some are harder than others. Some have more consequences than others. But it all boils down to choices. I refuse to allow failure to define me and because of that, I succeed. Winning at life...

I still have no idea what this means for December's race. I will continue to try. I will run on. I will do my best. If I must - and only if I must - I can drop back and do the half marathon at St. Jude. But I won't make that decision now. Now I will have faith. I will put one foot in front of the other. I will be bigger than my fears.

And this picture cracks me up...Cupcake anyone?

Accidents and Agony - Marathon Training, Week 10

"In the confrontation between the stream and the rock, the stream always wins - not through strength, but through persistence." - Buddha

I'm never sure if I'm the stream or the rock. I think I'm supposed to be the stream. But I never can figure out if I am moving forward or if running is what moves me to be more. I think, in part, both are true.

On Tuesday I ran short mileage in the pouring down rain. Holy Mother Of Winter, it's cold in the pre-dawn.

Seeing as I found a rock in my pocket
Seeing as I found a glitch in my soul

On Wednesday when I should have been running 10 miles I did nothing, which is why, on Thursday I ran Christa's 10-miler from the Dowd Y and back. This was a great run day! I ran this course the fastest that I have ever run it and felt strong throughout. Up until the last mile...and we've already talked about that - no matter how far the run, the last mile is always challenging! Lucky for me THIS last mile has some major intersections and I hit them right at rush hour. And...stop, look nonchalant, try not to die...RUN! That's pretty much how the crosswalk action goes. Because I ran this on Thursday, not Wednesday I did not do a recovery run the following day. And, oh, did I pay for that. My calves were shredded for DAYS. Angry. Bitter. Clenchy. Agony!

Make believe won't hide the truth
When judgment falls and it falls on you
Bend a knee my friend, bend a knee

So, I guess by now we know each other well enough that I can tell you the truth about me...

I'm a purple eye shadow wearing pixie. I'm prone to flights of fancy and inconsistent Dramedy. I'm likely to break out into song - probably showtunes - in mid-sentence. I'm fickle at heart. I'm random, at best. This marathon training program is just about the longest monogamous relationship that I've ever had. And, I must say, this week I started to consider a break-up. I've lost track of how many days I've worked in a row - and how many hours that adds up to. But it's a lot. I love what I do. It's an honor and a blessing and I wouldn't trade it for anything. But dang dude, can't a girl get a nap around here? I'm tired!

Tired or not, that 18 mile run showed up on my calendar. At 4 am. So did the driving rain and near-freezing temperatures. It was also pitch black. I'm devoted but I don't have a death wish so I crawled back into bed.

Pride can break a man right down from iron
Twist him 'round 'round and tatter up a soul

Later that day I went out for what turned out to be only a few miles. I was running injured. On Thursday, after that 10 mile run, I fell down a flight of 15 stairs at work, ending with a bounce and taking a hardwood riser to the spine. At first I thought I was ok but by the time that I got home late that night, I had been starched and hung out to dry. I was so stiff that I could barely move. Not fun. I took Friday off and hoped for the best.

Handprint of God on the small of my back
My second chance, my second chance
I'll bend a knee my friend, I'll bend a knee

On Saturday I was still sore - so sore - but I could move without stifling a scream. I took this as a good sign and ignored the angry bruise that had taken up residence on my back. Figuring that what doesn't break me will make me stronger, I went for a run. Big mistake. I'm a pretty tough chick, not a crier, but by mile 3 I was just about in tears. Time to pack it in. It's not worth further injury. Of course, I spent the rest of the weekend stressing out about that because I only have four long runs left until my first full marathon. That both scares me and motivates me. I'm strong, I know that I'm ready but I don't feel ready, if that makes sense. Next week is my 20 Miler - which I'm nervous to run considering I didn't get in the full 18 this week - and then I run 22 before starting to taper. I don't think I want to taper. I'm a naughty, bitter person when I don't run.

Lay It Down say it's all my fault, all my fault
Say I believe, I believe
Lay it down
This the hour of my healing, of my healing, yeah

And honestly, I have enough hurt in my life these days that I need extra miles to work it all out. Regardless of what people who aren't runners think, running is therapeutic. It's where the rubber literally meets the road. It's where you find out how strong you are. In the middle of the road in the pitch dark, when it's freezing cold, when you're all alone out there - there's no one else to rely on. If it's gonna get done, you have to be the one to do it. You can't go under it or around it or any place but THROUGH it. That's character building and a good lesson for life in general. If you want something done right, do it yourself and when judgement falls it can only fall on you. Own it. Own the failure, own the glory, own the journey. It only belongs to you. I embrace the agony. It makes me better. And in life, there is never the ability to do it all over again, but there is always the chance to improve, to do better the next time around. We grow, we learn, we change. This is what running teaches me. And I'm thankful.

Words in italics are Jennifer Knapp's Lay It Down.
This has been Silly Songs with Larry. Tune in next time to hear Larry say, "What the hell bus, I just ran 20 miles."

And That's How You Rally! - Marathon Training, Week Whatever

"Reaching for something in the distance, so close you can almost taste it, release your inhibitions..."

I've lost track of what week of training this is. For a while there I lost track of training in general. I had a couple of weeks where it was truthfully all that I could do to breathe. You'll be glad to know that the sun is shining in my life again and that I'm coming back to myself and my running. Actually, coming back to the running happened first and, as always, I found myself on the long run. I love that being lost means that I have the chance to be found anew.

This was a weird work week for me so I switched things up. This is a lesson that I am learning in my life - to stop being so rigid, to let things happen in and through me and to roll with the punches. "Release your inhibitions..."

Monday I was up early, but not as early as I might would have liked. I had planned for five miles of Julie Trussell's sprint intervals. Seriously, she needs to write a book because the pearls of wisdom that I have gleaned from her on Twitter have changed my life by changing the way that I train. I am stronger this year. I have more endurance. I am more confident on the course. All of those things serve me well. Because of the timing I only managed to fit in 4 miles, but I left the course feeling great because I set a PR on this course. My previous best time was 42 minutes. I came in at 39:08. And I have photographic evidence to prove it.

Tuesday was my tempo run. I went to bed at 7PM Monday night so that I could be up at 3 AM on Tuesday to run 10 miles before work. Trepidation does not begin to express the thoughts I was having. It's been a while since I did a proper tempo run and I usually try to schedule them on Wednesdays when I don't have to rush right off to work after. I managed to sleep through my alarm, woke up at 4 AM and told myself that I would just go for it anyway and get in as much mileage as I could. I ran 9 miles before the sun even so much as started to rise. I hadn't seen that particular shade of "dark" in quite some time and I was freaking myself out with questions like, "What is that shadow?" and "Is that a snake?" and "Do we still have coyotes in the neighborhood?" Yes, I'm a freak. Now you know.

I'm just going to say it: I kicked butt this day. I was awesome. You may worship me now. I never stopped. It was a diamond day in running. I could have run forever. And I was sad to see this run end. It occured me that I could be a much more determined athlete if I didn't feel the need to work for a living. Anybody want to sponsor me? No? Well, I guess that's okay - I like my job. Er, jobs. Plural.

Wednesday - Recovery Run. 3 miles easy. Technically it is 3.24 miles but who's counting? And technically running is never easy because if it was then everyone would do it. But, as it were this was fairly uneventful. I ran through Kristin Chenoweth's magnum opus, aka my iPod, and had a blast.

I did my long run on Friday. 16 miles on the greenway. I had attempted this the week before and let's just say that it didn't quite turn out the way that I had hoped. :) I set my sights on round 2. Better! Much better! I will not lie. I was tired by mile 8. So tired. And I wanted to stop. Or nap. Or die. But I pushed through. That wall always comes on the course. You always have to make the choice at some point to throw it in or keep moving forward. Choices always have both a consequence and a reward. The reward was that I ran the farthest that I have ever run this day and I am darn proud of myself. The consequence was the migraine that came after. I accepted long ago that the long run in the cold will always equal a migraine for me. Sometimes it is debilitating to the point of white-out, where the pain is literally blinding. This is the price that I pay for doing what I love. Sometimes I wonder if it is worth it but each new day finds me back on the course. The lessons that I learn there are vital so I choose to run on.

On Saturday I showed up at the crack of dawn for Rocktoberfest, formerly the Dowd YMCA Half Marathon. This is big dawg territory. I have stood on the sidelines every year and cheered on Christa as she has run this extremely challenging course. I have never had the courage to attempt it for myself. Until now. I was a nervous wreck. I spotted Rachel at the start and went over to say hello. I ran the first four miles of this course with her and then she lost me. I ran the last 2/3 of this race by myself with my iPod. I was ahead of my pace at the halfway point and I really started to think that I may set a PR on this course. What?! That's crazy talk!

I took a wrong turn at mile 10 and lost 2 minutes off the clock. Just after that Rob Thomas came on my iPod. "Little Wonders" was my theme song for my first half marathon. I put it on repeat and left it there for awhile. "You will only just remember how it feels. Our lives are made in these small hours, these little wonders..." So true. Things that seem insurmountable when we are trudging through them often seem insignificant when we look back on them later. Now, I can't remember the pain. I only remember the victory.

I don't care how long the course is, the last mile is always a challenge. Mile 12 on this course marks the start of hell. I turned left and began to run UP Morehead. I walked through the water stop, lost a minute and a half here, seriously considered throwing in the towel and then dug down deep to find some motivation. I took off running. I passed the other three runners in my pack, turned the last corner onto Lexington, put my head down and set myself. Lexington is a one mile climb from Latta Park all the way to the finish line. I finish every ten mile run by running up Lexington so I was ready. I knew what was coming. To quote Christa, "Dude. No half marathon should finish up hill." Amen, sister! Praise the Lord, pass the hymnal.

When I turned on to Lexington I had 8 minutes left to PR. I did it in 6. I beat my best ever half marathon record by 2 minutes and beat my last half marathon time by 17 minutes. And I did it the day after running 16 miles. There was a time that I wouldn't have believed this could be possible. But now I know that there is no such thing as impossible. I can do anything if I want it enough. "It's the heart that realy matters in the end..."

I've recently started following @MADfit on Twitter. Mike Alexander is the bad bleep who got Jessica Simpson in shape for Dukes and Kristin Chenoweth in shape for FHM. And he happens to be Julie Trussell's puppy daddy. He tweets the most awesome fitness related dramaticism. On Saturday before the race I opened up my favorites and re-read this particular gem to myself: "If you think you CAN'T, you're probably right... However, if you think you CAN, you're probably right about that too."

I'd say that's just about right on the money. The choice belongs to each of us - who do we want to be? This day, on this course, I was the best me that I could be. And that's always the right choice.

"Today is where your book begins, the rest is still unwritten..."