Forty-Nine Years and Three Days

Posted on October 23, 2022 by SoWhatIRun

Forty-nine years and three days. That’s how old my father was when he passed away from a massive heart attack at work a little over 22 years ago. I remember how old he seemed to me. What was left of his hair was gray and wiry. His big square-shaped 70’s glasses sat perfectly on his face. He had a big round beer belly, although he didn’t drink beer. On the very rare occasion that he did drink, his drink of choice was a Manhattan. He’d always have a cigarette in his hand, Marlboro Lights 100’s, I believe. He was a carton a week kinda man. Dad was always working and trying to find himself at the same time. He enjoyed photography and loved good ol’ classic rock-n-roll. He wasn’t a very loving or affectionate dad, but he loved us, and we knew that. He was quiet but witty and had a sense of humor that was an acquired taste. He’d still try that “pull my finger” move well into our teenage years. Looking back now, with years and wisdom under my belt, I can see a man who struggled to hold things together and provide for our family, a man who hid his unhappiness with his smile.

The day he passed, and the following days thereafter are now a blur. I remember getting a call at work from my mother to pick her up and take her to the hospital because dad was taken there by ambulance. My sister and uncle met us there. As they put mom, my sister, and me in the small closet-sized room, I knew something was seriously wrong. The doctor came in and let us know that he was gone. I remember the three of us breaking down, wailing, and crying, trying to comprehend how what was once an ordinary sunny day turned into a day that changed our lives forever. They took mom and me back to see him. His lifeless body was on the gurney, still intubated, and he had a tinge of blue around his ears. His glasses were gone. I don’t remember if my sister went back, honestly. I was too focused on the scope of the situation to notice anything around me. I do remember mom draping herself over top of his body sobbing and calling out his name, “Frank!” I don’t recall if I tried to hug him or touch him, maybe I laid my hand on his chest, but I do remember whispering in his ear, “I love you.”

Since that time, January 19, 2000, I have lived as if three days after my 49th birthday was my last day on earth. Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I see his face, but it doesn’t look old and withered. Although in the days before I go to get my hair colored, the graying around my temples and my widow’s peak frames my face just so, and I look just like my father. I see every detail of his face in mine. My nose and chin are an exact replica of his, and my smile favors his over my mother’s.

Over the last 22 years, I have done my best to live life to the fullest – doing whatever I can to experience and feel the best of what life has to offer. Checking bucket list items as I go just because “life is too short” and “you’ll never know when your last day on earth is.” Being grateful for every breath and trying to be present in every moment, although being present didn’t always happen. Embracing the dark gut-wrenching moments that create a deep pain that drops you to your knees and forces you to grow, expand, and evolve, as well as the beautiful moments that light up your heart and allow you to soar to the greatest heights. While life wasn’t perfect, and sometimes in my quest to do all the things, I failed to take time to just breathe and sit in stillness, I’ve embraced every minute of it.

We all know that our days are numbered, yet many of us still go through life in routine: wake up, eat, work, eat, sleep, repeat. We push off doing something we love or spending time with people we love because we have to “get this done first.” What’s so important about “this” that it takes away from something or someone you love? Why do we get into this survival mode of just making it to the next day without truly living through this day first? Why is it so hard for some people to break free of that cycle?

I sit here now the exact age that he was when he passed. He wasn’t old at all. I wonder, did he feel old? Or did he feel like he was just getting into the prime of his life, as I feel now? I’ve often said that dad’s passing was his greatest gift to me as it pushed me on a path that allowed me to live with purpose. As of today, I have been on earth as long as my dad was – 49 years and 3 days. That’s only 17,894 days. That’s not a long time if you ask me. And tomorrow, I will be living a day that dad didn’t get to live, day 17,895. And with that, I will continue to live life fully, with passion, with awe. And I will continue to be grateful for every breath. And I will continue to embrace all the dark and beautiful moments. But I will do much more of taking the time to sit in stillness and breathe. To be deeply present in every moment possible. To enjoy every minute of this wonderful life that I created. Because living is a beautiful thing. And life is a gift, and life is amazing.

Today I am 49 years and 3 days old. Tomorrow, wish me a happy birthday, as it will be the first day of the rest of my life.

Dad in his younger years. If you put a wig on him, you’d have me.

Countdown to the Finish

Posted on October 17, 2017 by SoWhatIRun

“Life is always a rich and steady time when you are waiting for something to happen or to hatch.”
– E.B. White, Charlotte’s Web

I remember during my first marathon after I pushed through the wall at the 20-mile marker and finally saw in the distance mile marker 24. There was a sudden surge of excitement. The end was near. I was going to do it. Just a little more than 2.2 more miles and I was going to actually finish a full marathon and I wasn’t going to die trying. The adrenaline kicked in and the emotions started to take over. For the first time in my life, I was going to do what I thought was the impossible.

And here we are now. Four weeks away from the due date of ultrababy’s arrival. I’m still waiting for that adrenaline to kick in, but it feels more like I’m stuck at the wall at mile 20. And just like every mile along the way of my first marathon, there’s so much that I’ve learned about myself and my tribe during the longest and fastest summer of my life, and it humbles me.

I learned that while I can will my body to run 100 miles, I cannot will my body to gracefully roll out of bed, or tie my shoes, or get out of the car, or put pants on. I learned that “slowing down my pace” doesn’t mean slow down to a comfortable jog, it means to come to a screeching halt and rest. I learned that I wish I would have been kinder, more helpful, and more compassionate towards my sister and friends who had kids before me. I had no idea what the body goes through when it’s creating a tiny human. And despite the fact that I wasn’t really there for them, they are here for me, a thousand percent.

Somehow along the way, I was able to surround myself with some of the most amazing people in the world. They are kind and generous. They are compassionate and loving. They are true to their word. How do you live up to that? How do you show gratitude to all of those people who go out of their way to help you, check up on you, and to just be there when you need them? I don’t know. Tell me. My tribe is strong and I am grateful for them. And my daughter is fortunate to have all of these wonderful people in her life to help guide her and teach her how to be a warm and compassionate human being full of strength and courage. Perhaps she saw this village and that’s why she chose me to be her mother.

As the days get closer to ultrababy’s arrival, I can’t help but wonder what it’s all going to be like to finally hold her in my arms. I often hear that there are no words to describe the feeling that you get when you hold your baby for the first time. And with each passing day, I’m starting to get it. It’s something like seeing the beauty of the Grand Canyon in pictures, but the pictures don’t do it justice. You have to run from one side to there other, to experience the great heights and depths to understand and feel the beauty of it all.

Or hearing of a pilgrimage along the coast of Portugal to Spain and the stories of self discovery that comes with it, but the stories are just stories until you, yourself strap that backpack on and walk every mile from point to point, soaking in the sights and culture and confronting your own demons within during long stretches of silence and solitude. You have to experience it to understand the changes that happens from within.

Or hearing of this crazy thing called a 100-mile foot race and seeing runners cross the finish line broken and renewed at the same time and not understanding what has to happen to your mind, body, and spirit in order to accomplish such a feat. You have to experience it to feel the pain that radiates through your body, hear the argument between your heart and your head of whether or not you should quit or move on, and feel the fire in your belly as you hear the cheers of the crowd at the finish line knowing that you had the strength, courage, and shear will to push through when your body didn’t want to.

The anticipation of the experience that lies ahead of me is both exciting and scary, but I know that it’s going to be nothing less than beautiful and magical. Four weeks left (maybe less). The finish line is near. And so is the most incredible experience of a lifetime.

Lost & Found

Posted on August 5, 2017 by SoWhatIRun

Well, there you have it. After a little scare earlier in the week and being put on temporary bed rest, it looks like my running may have come to a screeching halt.

I admit. I feel a little lost. I’ve felt a little lost from the beginning of this craziness. For the past six years, running has been my crutch. Discovering the sport changed my life’s trajectory and made it beautiful in so many ways. Running helped me find me.

I know this is a temporary situation, but without it, I feel…well…lost.

There’s a new me to be discovered and I know everything will be okay. I know I’ll find a new norm and I know that my running will come back. But self-discovery is never easy. And all this baby stuff is a little overwhelming. And in the past when I was overwhelmed, I ran.

In less than 15 weeks, I get to meet my little ultrababy, which doesn’t seem like a lot of time. Now that I no longer have running as my crutch to keep my stress level down, my anxiety has started to kick in. So I have to remind myself to breathe.

I just have to breathe and be okay through this new change.
Breathe and be okay with feeling lost.
Breathe and let my new self be found.

“It just takes some time, little girl
You’re in the middle of the ride
Everything, everything will be just fine
Everything, everything will be all right, all right”
In the Middle – Jimmy Eat World

Halfway to the Finish

Posted on July 3, 2017 by SoWhatIRun

“To be pregnant is to be vitally alive, thoroughly woman, and distressingly inhabited. Soul and spirit are stretched – along with body – making pregnancy a time of transition, growth, and profound beginnings.” ~ Anne Christian Buchanan

I can’t believe I’ve reach that halfway mark in this pregnancy. 20 weeks. It still feels surreal and I still say to myself, how is this my life? You think I’d be used to it by now. I’m not. Not really. But I’m adjusting. I still get frustrated that I can’t keep up with my old pace. And I don’t mean just in running. And when it comes to the run, I barely run these days. When I see other pregnant mama’s out there running or posting on the baby board that they got their mileage in, again and again, I admit, it really bums me out. I thought that I would be that person. The one who could run until the day before they gave birth. But, I’m not. I get a couple of miles in here and there, and I do try and get out there at least once a week, but running even 2 miles takes me down for the count. It seems like everyday I have to make a choice, run and be a zombie, or not run and be functional. I go back and forth between the two. I don’t know if age has anything to do with it, after all, I am 43 and most of my high school friends are grandparents now, or if it’s just the way my body is handling growing a human. In any case, it sucks.

But it’s worth the suck.

“When you moved, I felt squeezed with a wild infatuation and protectiveness.
We are one. Nothing, not even death, can change that.”
~ Suzanne Finnamore, The Zygote Chronicles

When I started to feel her flutters the day after Mother’s Day, the reality that there was a little being inside really started to sink in. I, of course, broke down and cried…you know that ugly cry with snot where you can’t catch your breath. Ugly face with tears of happiness. This is really happening. It’s still happening. I haven’t been dreaming all this time. When when I felt her strong tiny little future-ultrarunner legs kick on the outside of belly the day before Father’s Day, I cried again (but not as ugly). This little lady is already sending me messages letting me know that she’s here to stay and she going to be strong and free-spirited like the women that came before her. I haven’t met her yet and I love her so much already.

SO MUCH!

“Then I saw her face, now I’m a believer
Not a trace, of doubt in my mind
I’m in love, and I’m a believer” ~ The Monkeys

I was able to see my baby girl during one of those fancy 3D/4D sonograms. And while she looked like an alien monkey hybrid, it was incredible. She was sweet and beautiful and moving around like crazy! Actually, I think she looks just like her father (and I think he’s an alien monkey hybrid…shhhh…don’t tell him I said that). Her tiny little nose and her tiny little lips. Just absolutely beautiful. And last week I had my anatomy scan. This is where they get a good look at the baby to look for defects or any soft markers that could translate to a genetic or chromosome disorders. I’ve been nervous about this as I’ve been watching other mothers-to-be receive not so great news during their anatomy scans. But I knew no matter what came of the scan, I’d love her anyway. As the technician went through each part of her body and told me over and over again that she looked good, I started to tear up. Heart, good. Femur, good. Humerus, good. Stomach, good. Cranium, good. Kidneys, good. By the end of the appointment, I was crying again. Baby girl was 12 ounces of perfection.

“Pregnancy is a process that invites you to surrender to the unseen force behind all life.” ~ Judy Ford

As I slowly get settled into this pregnancy, I’m accepting the fact that training in the summer heat, even for a short race, might not be in the cards for me. And I’m almost okay with that. I’ll do what I can and see what each day brings. I stay active and try to walk at least 2 o 4 miles a day and squeeze in a run if I feel up for it. But I’m also learning how to slow down and be okay with giving up control. After all, I’m not in control anymore. She is. For over forty years, people have tried to tame me and the only being successful enough to do so is this tiny little human. This tiny little human who has changed my life in a big amazing way. I used to think that this was the next chapter of my epic life’s journey, but I’m beginning to think that this is an entirely new book with new characters and new adventures I haven’t dreamed of. I have a sneaking suspicion that the second book is going to be way better than the first. It will still have all the running and traveling and epic adventures as before, but this time it will have a different dynamic. One with unconditional, out of this world love for another human being and all the ups and downs that go with it.

It’s going to be quite amazing.

Baby, oh Baby! The Next Chapter.

Posted on April 30, 2017 by SoWhatIRun

“Sometimes life has a cruel sense of humor, giving you the thing you always wanted at the worst time possible.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Sugar Daddy

I have a confession to make. When I dropped out of the HAT 50K run at the last minute, it wasn’t entirely due to illness. Yes, I wasn’t feeling great and had been battling a little bit of nausea for a week or two, and I had the all clear to run it until the Friday morning before the race, when I got a call from my doctor. He had informed me that he was concerned about the low fetal heart rate on the ultrasound was and he wasn’t sure if running the race was a good idea. It would be a gamble. Fetal heart rate? Wait. Wha-waaat?? Yep. If you don’t already know, I’m totally preggers.

The chances of a 43-year-old woman conceiving naturally in a given month drops to 1 percent according to the Association for Reproductive Medicine. The chances drop significantly lower when a fertility doctor tells you that you need fertility treatments to have a shot of having a baby. One of the philosophies that I live by is, “Tell me I can’t and I’ll prove you wrong.” Well, apparently that goes for making babies as well. The crazy thing is, we weren’t even trying. The idea of having kids was no longer in the picture. For me, that ship sailed and having a family was just a distant dream that floated in and out of my mind from time to time. Well, I guess the ship that sailed, took a nice tour of the Caribbean, and found it’s way back to Maryland.

Back in mid March, after I was about 11 days late, I decided to take a home pregnancy test. I have had this happen before and never had a positive result. Typically, Aunt Flo would show up within the day of me taking a test and I assume this would happen again. And besides, I wan’t really that regular and I was pretty sure I was pre-menopausal anyway. But it didn’t. After taking two tests at home, which came up positive, I went for a 10 mile run (of course) and then went to urgent care and had them take blood work. When it came back positive, I questioned the accuracy of the test. I had a little back and fourth with the doctor about reasons why I thought it would be a false positive and then broke down and cried. How could this be?? Complete denial. Having a family of my own was no longer in my plan. This can’t happen! But I was wrong. My tears weren’t tears of sadness or disappointment, they were tears of shock and denial. The Universe had a plan of her own and I just didn’t know it.

The past couple of months have been rough, to say the least, with the extreme fatigue, the morning sickness, the thought of this living being inside my uterus. It has stopped me dead in my tracks, brought me to my knees, and completely knocked the wind out of me. The shock of it all has been overwhelming. Almost twelve weeks into this pregnancy, it still feels surreal. How is this my new life? How is it that the thing I wanted most in life was given to me at a point in my life where the timing couldn’t be any worse? But when is the timing ever perfectly right? This little soul defied the odds and found its way to me. The timing is exactly how it is supposed to be.

So, now what? Running has been temporarily put on the back burner as I was taken off of some of my asthma meds because they were considered risky during the first trimester (don’t worry…they would have put me back on them if I couldn’t keep my asthma under control without it). Running triggers my asthma and so does the pollen. I have, however, been able to get a few runs in and I’m hoping as I enter into the second trimester, I’ll find my mojo and get back out there to run consistently. My sanity needs it.

As I come out of my fog of “holy shit, this is happening,” I’m embracing my new reality and the challenges ahead, and the excitement and joy of having a baby is settling in. I’m learning how to adjust to a body that’s growing a human and learning how to navigate in a world of being responsible for someone completely reliant on you. Every decision I make affects this little nugget and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to ensure a safe and healthy pregnancy. My pregnancy is high-risk and the health of my baby concerns me. Sharing the news is risky this early in the game, but I have always found strength in the support of my tribe, good or bad. And as I get ready to undergo First Trimester Screening and a few other genetic screenings, I pray for a healthy outcome. It’s all I can do at this point.

So, the big question that everyone is dying to ask. Who’s the baby daddy? While almost every aspect of my life is pretty much on public display, my personal relationship is the one thing that I have kept to myself. It is sacred to me. He is one of the most incredible human beings I have ever met and I have never experienced a love so deep and spiritual as I have with him. Our relationship is long-distance, but we make it work. And yes, he too is an ultrarunner (of course). Until we can find a way to come together as a family (our careers currently stand in the way), I’m okay with living as a single parent for the time being. I trust in the Universe to bring us together when the timing is right and I have an amazing support group who I can count on to help me along the way.

I’ve already started planning my comeback with a 100-miler in 2019, and I hope to start racing again sometime in 2018, and while I realize I can no longer dictate my schedule as I have done before, it won’t stop me from trying to do what I love. Somehow, I always find a way to make things work.

When I start to feel the energy, I will hit the trails as soon as I can. Together, this little soul and I will breathe in the air of our beloved trails, together our hearts will beat while we climb the hills, and together, our love of the trails and of running will continue deepen. This little incredible soul inside my belly beat the odds…all of them, to get here. She or he is here for a purpose and she or he chose me to be their mother. And when UltraBaby crosses that birthing finish line in November, I can’t wait to take that precious little hand in mine and guide this little soul through life and teach them about all the wonders and beauties of this world.

Life. It’s such an incredible, amazing, magical thing. I am so overwhelmed with gratitude with all that life has given me. Every difficult challenge in my life has given me something more beautiful than I can ever imagine. I take none of it for granted. Always humbled, grateful, and blessed and in awe of all that surrounds me and I can’t wait to share the next chapter of my life with you. It’s sure to be a hell of a ride!

Reflecting on 2016

Posted on December 31, 2016 by SoWhatIRun

“I’ll never know, and neither will you, of the life you don’t choose. We’ll only know that whatever that sister life was,
it was important and beautiful and not ours.
It was the ghost ship that didn’t carry us.
There’s nothing to do but salute it from the shore.”
― Cheryl Strayed, Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar

Another year has come and gone, and another year has left me in awe of this wonderful thing called life. If you were to ask me five years ago how my life would be now, I assure you, the answer wouldn’t be what it is. I was telling a friend at dinner tonight that I took a stroll down memory lane and looked at pictures of years gone by on my Facebook page. I noticed how I’ve changed in so many wonderful ways. My smile is brighter, my eyes have more meaning behind them, and I can see how I’ve come into my own. And I can honestly say, I attribute all of this this to my passion, running.

How can one simple thing change someone so much? Well, I can tell you that the confidence I found within myself through running changed how I looked at obstacles. I now know that there are no obstacles that I cannot overcome. I found a courage hidden so deep within and it allowed me to be okay with being who I am. It allowed me to be true to myself and I no longer cared if people accepted me or not. Through running I found my running tribe. The special group of people who lift me up, support me in all I do, who love me without judgement, and who encourage me to be the best I can be. Through running, I found limits which has inspired me to push even harder, to be better, to find out what possibilities there are for me.Through running, I found love. And that in itself is more than I could ever ask for.

2016 had many ups and downs for me. I hiked from Portugal to Spain, basked in the sun on the beaches of Aruba, ran some incredible races, and had my first DNF. I lost a dear friend to cancer, and then my grandmother immediately after and many friends throughout the year, but through it all, running is what kept me grounded and it kept me sane. Running is what I turned to when I need to grieve and running is where I went to to find happiness.

I used to look forward to the New Year and have an idea of what’s ahead of me. But not anymore. I now look forward to the New Year and I stare at it in awe, like a child seeing Christmas lights for the very first time. I have no idea what’s in store for me for 2017, but I do know this – every moment that comes my way will be a blessing, good or bad, and I will not take a single breath for granted. I know that while the life I have not is not what I imagined it would be, it is a life that I cherish and I am grateful for the choices that I have made. That sister life that I thought I would have was important. But it wasn’t mine to have. But this life, this amazingly wonderful life that I live, it what was truly meant to be.

I wish you all a wonderful, safe and happy new year.

Embracing the DNF on the Mountains of Oregon

Posted on October 2, 2016 by SoWhatIRun

I knew there would come a day where I would not be able to complete a race. The looming “DNF” is always in the back of the mind of an ultrarunner. When you dance with the devil called ultrarunning, you know that sooner or later, you’re going to trip up and get burned. And it was on the mountains of Oregon where I accepted this dance and got burned.

Mountain Lakes 100 ended in my first DNF (did not finish). It was the first time I was unable to reach a goal I set for myself and it was the first time I have ever had to drop out of a race. From the beginning of my running career almost 5 years ago, races have always come ‘easy’ to me. And I use that term ‘easy’ lightly. I struggled and I fought, but I always finished within the time that I wanted to. I had training runs that ended in worse outcomes than races. This time it was different. Strange thing was, while I had worried about completing races in the past, I really wasn’t worried about this one. I thought I had it. I did the training that my coach gave me, hired a nutritionist, and had a plan. I didn’t have mountains to train on, but I was getting my hill workouts. And afterall, Kaci Lickteig was able to win Western States this year training in pancake-flat Omaha, Nebraska. Ok…I’m not Kaci…not even close, but still. I would have thought I did enough to at least finish this race.

But it wasn’t enough for this course. At least for me. As a typical back of the packer, I needed to be stronger and the lack of strength training that I had this season was detrimental to my performance. I tend to perform better with lower mileage training and a lot of cross training, and if you ask me, when you don’t have mountains to train on for a mountain ultra, you need to need to find a way to get strong enough for the course. I was actually concerned about the lack of consistency with cross training that I had this season. Life really got in the way and it was a challenge to fit it all in. Still, I thought – I hoped, it would be enough. It wasn’t.

My hip gave out at mile 9 and I pushed on anyway. Every few miles it would give out from under me causing me to fall or slip. I continued to push through anyway. My energy was up and at this point, my legs still felt good. But deep down inside, this I knew this dance was beyond my capacity. The devil called ultrarunning had my number.

By the time I came down the mountain of the first 26 miles of the race, my quads were blown and my legs were fatigued. I pushed on anyway, keeping an eye on my Garmin which was so wrong that it had me at an average pace of 16:30 yet getting me into aid stations more in the 20:00 pace. I thought I had time so I took my time. And the more tired my legs got, the more my pace slowed, but I thought I still had some cushion. I didn’t. I realized it was going to be a fight to finish within the cutoff time.

As we headed into the night, I paired up with another runner, Christopher. The universe has an uncanny way of sending you people when you need them. He was exactly what I needed at that time. I wasn’t looking forward to the night run and having company was nice to get myself out of my own head. I was nervous about finishing and I kept dancing with the idea of the dreaded DNF. We chatted through most of the night taking turns pushing each other. As I started to feel my heart sink, I told him that I was about to have a moment.

We came across an open field and he paused and had us look at the stars. I looked at the brightest stars I’ve ever seen in my life. It was as if I could touch every single one of them. I’d imagine they’d feel like the sparkles that fall off the sparklers on the Fourth of July, stinging you just a little as they touched your skin. That was my moment. Now, I didn’t breakdown and cry like a baby, but I looked up at the stars and asked my heart, how bad do you want this? How much should I push this weak, struggling body? Is it okay to quit? And for the first time in my life, my big stubborn heart said yes. I took a deep breath in, exhaled and said to myself, okay. Dance over. I was done.

We took a brief moment and then continued on. Christopher caught his wind at the next aid station and was ready to take off. I was ready for bed. He chugged along ahead of me and I eventually lost sight of him in the darkness. Then out of the blue, I heard him shout out for me. And when I heard his bellowing voice, I laughed. And when I laughed I knew I was going to be okay. I told him not to wait for me and to keep going. Still, every so often, I’d hear his bellowing voice. And each time I did, I laughed again. I was going to be okay.

When I came into Clackamas (about the 55 mile mark) three hours behind schedule, Alex, my crew and pacer ran up to me with his big brown wide eager eyes, “I’m running the last 50 miles with you. We’re going to do this. Here, I’ve warmed up your clothes.” I looked at him and told him I was done. I was okay with a DNF and that I was tired, hypothermic, and ready to stop. I was completely and utterly done.

He wouldn’t hear it. Alex, with those oh so determined big brown wide eager eyes, wouldn’t hear it. “Let’s warm you up. Rest a little. What do you need? I’m not going to let you quit. Let’s get to the next aid station. Let’s get around Timothy Lake. We’re doing this together. ”

“I’m not strong enough for this”

“Yes you are. You are so strong. You can do this”

“No, I’m done. I okay to be done. I have nothing left.”

“Yes, yes you do. You got this. We’re going to do this together. YOU’RE SO STRONG! YOU CAN DO THIS!”

I argued with him and argued with him, but finally I gave in. I couldn’t look him in his unwavering big brown wide eager eyes and say no again. We took off to the next aid station. I made it to Little Crater Lake just about 10 -15 minutes before the sweepers showed up. I was finally done.

A week after my first DNF, I’ve had a lot of time to think about what went wrong and what I could do better and why was I not as crushed as I thought I’d be. Don’t get me wrong. It hurts. It stings. And when you watch your friends get their buckles, it stings a little more. I’m certainly disappointed in my performance and saddened that all the sacrifices I made just weren’t good enough to finish this race. But I know that this is all part of the game. It just is. And if I want to continue to play, I need to accept the fact that while this is my first DNF, it won’t be my last.

Christopher later sent me this quote that was sent to him. And every single freaking word resonated with me.

“You go out there to leave everything you have on the trail. You find something bigger than you, you throw everything you have at it, and *maybe* you come out on top… The finish line, it’s not the finish line. The external distance is just a distraction, an exercise. The goal is to cover new terrain in here.’ I tapped two fingers against my temple. ‘If you fall short, if you don’t cross that arbitrary line, it doesn’t mean that you suck. It just means that you have ambition, that you try to do big, heroic things. That’s what matters. A DNF should be a badge of honor. It means your dreams are boundless. Ultrarunning is the opposite of real life: when you fail, you win.'” — Mishka Shubaly

Every word, true.

And in that moment, I once again embraced my DNF.

And I knew that I would be back.

And I knew that I would be stronger.

And I realized that sometimes the suffering that you put yourself through in the anticipation of failure is far worse than the failure itself. What I learned is that I could fail and not be destroyed by it. I could fail and welcome the fact that in the search for the betterment of myself and finding my limits that failure can be somewhat comforting. It means that I live life to my full capacity. It means that I don’t just talk about dreaming big, but I do dream big. I means that my will, my spirit, my determination, my grit are all still intact because the failure lights the fire in my belly to get back out there and do better, be better, and succeed. And when I do succeed, because I know I will, I’ll start the cycle all over again.

Sunrise before Mountain Lake 100 PC: Alex Harris

The Spirit of the Camino and the Spirit of Running

Posted on June 16, 2016 by SoWhatIRun

Finally, my final thoughts on the Camino. It’s funny how things work out sometimes. I set forth out on the Camino seeking closure and to find answers from within. What I found though, was that I already had closure and I knew the answers all along. Even more, I found something I wasn’t searching for, the Spirit of the Camino.

I had it all planned out. I was going to use this trip to ceremoniously bring a close to my past and leave my wedding ring behind at the cathedral as a symbol of this closure. Instead, after 10 days on the road, most of it in the rain, and a grueling hot uphill climb on the last day, I ended up in the almost empty square of the Santiago de Compostela only to find that I had to go around the corner to a regular old office and wait for 2 to 2.5 hours in a line to get my final stamp and certificates of completion. Wha-what? Isn’t there some statue or alter where people leave shit behind (yes…100K down the road)? Where was my moment?? I was supposed to have an all out emotional breakdown fall-down-on-my-knees-crying-my-eyes-out-with-snot-running-down-my-face moment. Instead, I stood there in line with Michele with a blank stare. What the f*ck is this?

As Michele stood right beside me she watched for my queue. She knew I was expecting a moment and she knew that I had gone too long without eating. And when I don’t eat, I turn into the incredible Hulk. She could tell by the look on my face that I was a little distraught by this anticlimactic ending to a journey what was supposed to end with angels singing, people sobbing, and lots of hugging and “there there you’ll be okay – celebrate your new life” moments. I waited in line for a minute or two, she tried not to make direct eye contact with me, and then I decided..meh…I was hungry and needed to eat and food was just way more important.

It has been several weeks since I completed this trek and during that time, I had a lot of time to reflect on my Camino journey. And while I didn’t have my “moment” I realized that didn’t need one. There wasn’t a moment to be had. I closed the chapter of my past and moved on long, long ago and I didn’t need any type of symbolic gesture to prove that I did. I reflected a lot on some past regrets and graciously came to terms with them (sort of) and accepted what I cannot change. But to my surprise, I found something that the Spirit of the Camino was much like the Spirit of Running.

Live in the Moment

Living in the moment is something that I want to do more of. It seems the only time I really do live in the moment are during races and the occasional group run with my tribe. Any other time, I’m thinking about what’s next, what does the future hold, how could I have done something differently in my past. I need to learn to just be. Just be in the moment and not worry about what’s coming next. More importantly, I need to find a work life balance, or at least get better at it. I spent the better part of my 20’s and 30’s working 10-16 hour days non-stop including weekends, and often times more. The best years of my life were spent in an office and while I’ve changed that over the past few years, I’ve decided to even push it further. Perhaps one day I’ll even sell or dissolve my company and just for a regular ol’ 9-5. What’s it like working only 8 hrs in a day? I have no idea. Tell me.

Welcome Each Day – Its Pleasures and Its Challenges

Much like running, each day on the Camino was different. One day there were tears, the next laughter, the day after utter silence. And Michele and I embraced each day and learned how to work together as a team to overcome some of the challenges we faced. As a runner, I have learned to accept and embrace the fact that you have no idea how your run or race is going to go. As with life, you can’t predict the start, middle, or end – you just have to adapt to each moment and keep moving forward. This acceptance has helped me in other aspects of my life. And the best part of it – now matter how shitty the run or how shitty the day, you learn from it and you grow. And when it’s great and wonderful, you are grateful for the gift of living and breathing.

Make Others Feel Welcome

We spent the first few days of the Camino with little interaction with the Pilgrims. However, everyone we met along the way before we started to collide with pilgrims were very welcoming. And when we finally met others like us, just as it was with finding my tribe in running, we found our tribe on the Camino. There were a particular few that we ended up befriending and sharing some meals and drinks together. They truly felt like our Camino family. We met a mother and daughter team from Germany, a few Canadians, a couple from Australia and quite a few more. I have to admit, Michele and I said in the beginning that we were happy we didn’t have the opportunity to socialize with other pilgrims. And perhaps the Camino knew that we needed time to adjust to each other, adjust to our environment, and let go of the fear of having to include others in our conversations. When the time was right, the Camino put us on the path with our tribe. And just as it was with running, you just know when you meet your own. When a new runner joins a group, there are no awkward introductions or getting to know you periods. There’s just the look of “hey…you run trails…we run trails…we’re family!” It was the same on the Camino. “You Camino? I Camino! WE ALL CAMINO!”

Share

Sharing on the Camino was essential. Michele and I borrowed each other’s stuff throughout our trip. And when it was time to eat, we would also share our meals with our fellow pilgrims. In running, we do the same thing. If your running partner needs fuel or water, you share. Need an extra shirt, you share. It’s just how it’s done. Wish the world could learn a thing or two about sharing. It would be a much better place to live in.

Feel the Spirit of Those Who Have Gone Before You

As we walked the Camino and I looked at the markers, I often wondered how many others passed through. I enjoyed seeing the rocks or flowers that those who have gone before me had left on trail markers, and I left a few of my own along the way. I would think, what was their story? Why were they on the Camino? When I compare this to running, I don’t look in the near past. Instead, I think of our ancestors and how running was a necessity. I sometimes feel their spirit as I pass by the trees and wonder if they ever took the time to enjoy their surroundings as much as I do.

Imagine Those Who Will Follow You

As I shared my Camino journey publicly, I wondered how many would follow and what their experiences would be like. Would they arrive at the Compestella disheartened like I did, or will they find a different path and different meaning? When it comes to running, the moment I introduce a new runner to the trails, it excites me. I see their eyes widen and their smile get bigger as they learn the ways of the trail. I see life being reborn inside of them and wonder if they realize that the moment they stepped foot on the trails, they’re lives had forever changed. And when someone tells me that they have just started running, I smile.

Appreciate Those Who Walk With You Today

When you spend 14 solid days and nights with someone, you get to learn a lot about them and about yourself. There were many moments in the beginning of our journey where Michele and I were butting heads. If fact, within the first 8 hours of our hike, we were already annoyed with each other and not in agreement with decisions we needed to make. It took a lot of compromise and patience from the both of us to get us through. Later down the road when she injured her IT band, we discussed how we would continue on. I had it set in my heart that I was walking the entire trail with or without Michele. Then it hit me, what would that accomplish? She needed me and I was going to send her on a train to the next stop just so that I can stick to a goal I had set for myself and needed to do to help keep with my training schedule. I never thought I was a selfish person, but in that moment when I was struggling internally, I realized that the world does not revolve around my goals (I know…I thought it did too). But I learned that in this world, while it’s great to be able to do everything on your own, it is essential to have someone in your life that you can trust and count on. As with running, solo runs are great, but running with your tribe can be just as enriching. Life is better with friends.

If you ever decide to walk the Camino, take this to heart. Just like running the trails, the Camino will reveal the answers you need to know and they may not the be answers you are looking for. You must go into this journey with an open mind and an open heart. You will only see things you were meant to see but you must be open to it. Again, like trail running, the Camino is not for everyone. You will know within the first few days if this journey is for you, but it is something that I recommend doing to anyone who is looking to explore new places, meet some incredible people, and perhaps find answers to questions that you didn’t know you had.

Thoughts on the Camino – Seven Percent

Posted on May 12, 2016 by SoWhatIRun

“Make the most of your regrets; never smother your sorrow, but tend and cherish it till it comes to have a separate and integral interest. To regret deeply is to live afresh.” ~Henry David Thoreau

There are many things that go through your mind when walking the Camino. It’s part of the purpose making a pilgrimage…searching your soul and finding answers from within. I do this often during my runs, and I hope that by the time I finish the Camino, I will lay to rest some unfinished business within my heart. One of them is having a family of my own.

Not so long ago I heard these words from my doctor, “you probably have a 7% to 10% chance of conceiving and having a baby.” Of course my mind stopped at the words seven percent and I head nothing else after.

I always thought I’d have a family of my own and I always thought I had plenty of time. Having children was something that my ex-husband and I never agreed on, but he made a promise that we would try for a short period of time at some point in our marriage and if it didn’t happen, I promised I would let it go. At the time I thought it was a good compromise. I was wrong.

Ten years into our marriage, I brought it up. For me, it was time. For him, it would never be the time. And when he said no, in that instant I saw the family that I thought I’d have one day die in the midst of my tears. I picked up the pieces of my broken heart and convinced myself it was better this way. My life was too busy and I wouldn’t have time. I was happy with what I had, but really, I wasn’t. Fast forward 4 years and the divorce came and went and there are new possibilities to be had.

I figured, there is plenty of time. Women have beautiful healthy children into their 40’s all the time, why not me? Then I did the research and was blown away by statistics. I consulted with my doctor and we had a very serious conversation and that’s when he dropped the seven percent bomb on me. He knew my history and we both knew that conceiving would be something that would probably need some type of medical intervention, but I didn’t know how low my chances were. It was quite shocking really.

Having a family to call my own is one of the many things that occupy my mind when I run. I go out there and run and face those demons over and over again. Sure, there are many options and there are many options I’m considering. I have more appointments ahead of me to see what is best for me, and in my heart there is hope.

But…

I still can’t help but feel robbed of the opportunity when my body was more capable and my chances were greater. I feel that the choice was taken from me and I was blindsided by someone who once meant the world to me, and I can’t help but harbor some anger and resentment over it.

But I have to let it go.

I love the life I have and I’m grateful for every breath I take and I can’t continue to let this linger in my heart. And while I know it will be a long time before I can fully let it go, I know that someday I will find a way, whether or not it’s on the Camino.

There still many unanswered questions and many possibilities ahead, and I will exhaust every avenue I find. I believe in the Universe and that there is a plan but no matter what happens, I still have hope.

And on the Camino, I walk and I think,

And I walk and I grieve,

And I walk and I mourn for a family I felt I lost.

And seven percent echos in my head,

over and over and over again,

Seven percent, seven percent, seven percent…

Seven percent.

Be Inspired

Posted on April 4, 2016 by SoWhatIRun

Last week I had a little bit of writers block. I needed inspiration. And who better to turn to inspiration than my readers. I sent out a request for your favorite inspirational quotes and compiled them right here. So if there’s ever a day when you need a little lift, bookmark this page so you can come back and be inspired. Enjoy! Continue reading →

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Category Archives: Motivation/Coping/Personal