Monday, January 20, 2014

A First

Yes, it's been two months since posting...we missed updates on Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's.  I just needed inspiration to sit down and write.

I ran my first 1/2 marathon last weekend in Charleston, SC.  This is a minor big deal.  Minor because I am already a runner.  I lace up and log in anywhere from ten to fifteen miles a week.  Twenty miles on a really good week and if I have my running partner, Ben Jackson, with me.  I have dozens of 5k and 10k races under my belt.  Fifteen years ago I could run much faster and could actually place in the top three finishers for my age group and always in the top ten percent of all runners.  So the idea of running was not the challenge.  The challenge was running for 13.1 miles, the farthest distance I ever ran.

I have given serious thought to running a marathon or half marathon for about ten years.  Lisa is my inspiration.  Knowing she has ran three full marathons I knew I had a goal to be like her.  However, like 99.95% of the country, I found one excuse after another not to try.

One year I had knee surgery.

One year I fought a nasty case of plantar fasciitis.

One year the boys needed watching.

One year I had no excuse at all.

This year looked like a repeat of years past.  

My venue was wherever the Seafarer Run A Kid To Camp team was racing.  The RAKTC program is an annual event where people who support Camp Seafarer raise money to send needy kids to camp in the summer.

As the 2014 Charleston Marathon approached, Lisa asked me if I was going to run.  My half-hearted  response left a lot of doubt in the air.  I needed to train.  I needed miles beyond my six or seven mile "long run".  Ugh.  Christmas rolled around and I still had not signed up.  New Year's practically sealed my fate.

I woke up on New Year's Day with a terrible toothache that only got worse and worse as the day progressed.  My dentist couldn't see me until the next day so he put me on Vicadin.  The next day came and I had to wait another day for an emergency root canal.  The pain was insufferable.  Sleep was elusive and running was out of the question.  On Friday I had some relief but more bad news, the tooth was split and could not be saved.  On Monday, January 5th, I had an emergency extraction.  Still in some pain, and still on drugs, there was no running in my future for another week.

Lisa was aware of all of this and stopped asking if I was running.  Besides, registration ended on January 15th and that was quickly approaching.  I should have bailed.  I could have with another excuse for another year.  Yet for some reason I didn't.  Not even after I tried to run the Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday in the days before the race and returned after six miles with pain in my knees.

I don't know what I was thinking but I signed up for the race with 38 minutes to go before the close of registration.  So now I was committed but had no idea how I was going to run the whole race.  When I told Lisa she had her doubts.  She knew full well I hadn't trained.  She didn't like my bravado when I told her that if could run seven miles I could easily run six more.  I think she wanted to see me humbled - just a little.  In all honesty the only things I did to prepare for the run was carbo-load on Thursday and Friday and buy a new pair of Dr. Scholls inserts for my shoes.  Truly a self designed disaster in the making.

On Friday I drove to Charleston, SC with TJ, Grant, and Sam (straight off an airplane and right into the van) to meet up with Lisa and the rest of the RAKTC team.  We got there in time to say our hello's, get the next days instructions, and go to bed.

Race day I followed my usual race routine; hot shower, coffee, carbs, coffee, head to the start line.  The Charleston Marathon had over five thousand runners this year.  It was cold and the wind off the Charleston Harbor cut through layer of clothing.  Someone found the team a box of trash bags and we walked to the start line in makeshift windbreakers.  Imagine dozens of runners marching down the street looking like homeless people - in sneakers.

And then it got weird.

I was separated from the rest of the RAKTC team and immediately got lost in the growing crowd of runners.  I took a selfie, had someone take a picture for me, and then my phone turned off as if it died.  Oh no.  Thirteen miles without music?!  Turn on; oh please, oh please, oh please.  And it did - with 20 seconds to go before the start.  Running mix?  Check.  Attitude check?  Total confusion.

Why am I near the back of the pack and the pace says 4:30? 
Where is anyone from RAKTC?
When did I plan on stretching?

Go - and welcome to the start of the 4th Annual Charleston Marathon!

The Rolling Stones filled my ears as the crowd eased to the start line.  Several thousand crossed the start line before I did but once I crossed I was committed.  In the early part of any large race the course is jammed with runners of different paces and the faster ones keep looking for those spaces in the course to get going.  And so I found myself itching to break loose for the first mile or so.  And then I could open up just as Metallica's "Enter the Sandman" was crashing into it's solo.

I kept passing people holding pace cards; 4:30 - 4:00 - 3:30 until it dawned on me that 4:30 wasn't minutes and seconds but hours and minutes!  Duh.  Unlike my weekday runs, I did not use my running app that tracks pace, distance, and over all time.  All I had was my music.  It was like running blind because I did not see my first mile marker until Mile 8 and when I saw it I had no comprehension of time.  I saw Samantha at Mile 6 but had no clue it was Mile6 because she said she would meet me at Mile 8.

How long had I been running?  It felt like I was running slower than usual.  However my knees felt okay and nothing else was bothering me.  The wind was horrible.  My thighs (not my knees) began to hurt.  I was a afraid to stop to take off layers for fear of not being able to start up again.

I hit Mile 10.  The last time I ran ten miles was when Samantha was an infant and I ran the Army Ten Miler.  I felt good.  At Mile 11 I knew I could do the next two point one without having to stop.  At mile 12 I replayed some of my power songs and felt that surge of adrenaline.  In the home stretch - as everyone was clapping - I started shouting, "C'mon, I can't hear you!  Louder!" and the crowd responded.  I felt weightless and euphoric crossing the finish line.  I was under two hours - my goal. 

Lisa found me and hugged me.  The boys hugged me.  I found a bottle of ibuprofen.  I ate some bananas and drank some water before being overcome by chills to the point where I had to get indoors.  Someone brought hot Chik-fil-A sandwiches.  I ate two.  My legs started to tighten.  Most of the rest it a blur.  But not before I went to the results tent.

I went to the tent where they posted results; Richard Brown - Fuquay Varina - 1:46:56 - 8:09 per mile average - 29th in my age group and 371st over all - in the top 10%. 

Lisa got me back to the hotel where I showered for fifteen minutes trying to bring my body temperature back up.  I took a nap and then joined everyone for the post run dinner.  Remember - many others ran the full marathon.  Everything I went through, times two.  There were stories of support, of love and friendship, and the challenge of facing 26.2 miles.

I can see why people don't want to run marathons or half marathons.  It's intimidating.  It intimidated me for years.  Running can be brutal both physically and mentally.  Distance, endurance, speed; in the end there is only one person you are racing against.  You.

We are (often) our own biggest obstacle to success.  Marathons, starting a business, going for that promotion, asking that special someone out for the first time.  Our fears paralyze us to the point of inaction.  And while I have conquered this one - and will run again - I know there are still other challenges I have yet to face.  Until then I have this victory to keep me company. 

Saturday, November 23, 2013

A New Song

Every so often, Rich becomes inspired and comes up with a super silly song that lives in our collective heads long after he is done...and he has done it again.

This past year my sister and her children taught TJ the annoying "guess what? Chicken butt" game. You know the one: in conversation you ask the person, "hey mom, guess what?" Your natural response is "what?" But the second that "what" comes out of your mouth, you know you have been had because right then, the person that asked the question quips back, "chicken butt." It's easy to laugh the first and second time, but any more then that, I lose my sense of humor and it just becomes annoying.

Well, Rich brought this game to new heights by creating a song whose lyrics come from the game. He first sang it in a high pitch falsetto voice which added to its new level of annoying, but still it got laughs in our family and we are singing it around the house practically every day.

Hey TJ, guess what?
That's right, chicken butt.
And now I'll tell you why
It's all about chicken thigh
Can you tell me where?
Chickens don't wear underware

And on and on and on it goes........

One Proud Momma

Grant's very first special award

Yes, I am a proud mom. My boys are ridiculously sweet, charming, smart, clever, hysterical, handsome, etc, etc. I know I am a bit biased because they contain at least 50% of my DNA and the other 50% comes from my wonderful husband! But every once in a while someone outside of the family thinks my boys are awesome too.

Grant received a special award last month for being a great helper. Apparently while Grant was sitting and eating lunch, a friend was struggling to reach the faucet. Seeing this, Grant snapped in to action and said, "I'll help you." He got up from his lunch and turned the faucet on for his friend and then waited for him to finish so that he could turn it off too. What a sweetheart. Total unsolicited help.  Now, anyone that knows my son at lunchtime knows how much he loves his food. So the fact that he got up from HIS lunch to help someone makes this story even better. Yep. I am a proud momma.

And the sweetness does not stop there for Grant. Often times when we are sharing a moment Grant will say to me, "Mom, you nice." The other remark he makes gets me even more choked up: "Mom, you my best friend." Could I be any luckier with this sweet, sweet boy?

He has been a joy to watch grow up.  He is silly when he is "shaking his bacon", a riot when he says to me "flush my stuff" after a successful sit on the potty. He is smart when he works to figure out how a new toy works, and he is precious when he follows his big brother around the room doing everything just like T.J.

I am blessed.