Finish lines, tears, the glory is mine. Week 19

Dear Mia and Elin,

Nineteen weeks ago I began a journey. A journey to rediscover who I am, who I want to be, a journey that involved pushing myself physically and mentally to the brink, a journey that taught me volumes. Yesterday I started and FINISHED my first marathon, 26.2 miles. I am sure when you get older you will roll your eyes and say "Blah, blah, mom you ran a marathon. I get it." It will be a story I will pull from throughout your life that will no doubt become one of those annoying mommy moments, but someday I hope you will read these words and be able to learn something amazing about yourself.

Nineteen weeks ago my biggest fear for you two was that you would become just like me. Today I as I held my medal and reflected on my run I wanted nothing more than my biggest fear to come to fruition.

My hope for you is that in life you will stumble because getting back up takes courage and strength. Although I want some things to come to you naturally (preferably math and science) having to WORK for something makes the "grade" so much sweeter. It will be hard to watch, but I want your hearts to be broken so you will know the difference when you meet your true love. I want you to fail, so success will be sweet. My hope for you is as you struggle and suffer through life's twists and turns you will reach to me, just like I reached to Mimi, but I also want you to be independent. As much as it kills me I know some of these lessons must be learned on your own. As hard as it will be for me to be on the sidelines know that your mom is watching. Know that I am cheering you on. Know that I have walked a similar mile and when you are ready I am here to carry you to whatever finish line you are trying to cross or obstacle you must overcome. I ran this race to show you people can change not realizing I already had.

I am not perfect, and I will make mistakes. I am sure I will "scar" you for life, but someday I hope you read my words and see me not just as your mother but a woman with a dream. With the love from my family, friends, hard work, blood, sweat, a LOT of sweat, and many tears it came true. I overcame myself and my fears. I put in the time and the 26.2 medal is mine. You two may never run a marathon, but someday I hope you will know what it feels like to achieve the impossible. Whatever your "impossible" is your dad and I will be there with signs and cow bells!!! I love you sweet girls. The only thing that stands in the way of your dreams is YOU!!!

Loving you Big,

Mom

*******

This week was pretty amazing. I had three short runs, but only did two. I was so tired that I figured sleep was more important than a 4 miler mid week. I fueled up on carbs and H20 and headed to Savannah. Friday night I slept (as much as a child sleeps on Christmas Eve) and woke up at 4:15 to join the masses at the Inaugural Savannah Rock and Roll Marathon.

My brother in law and my one of bests were embarking out on their marathon journey's as well. We carpooled to the shuttles and race prepped together. As my corral approached the start line I teared up. "This is REALLY happening!!!!!" I was in the 20th wave, but as my feet pounded out it I felt like I was the first. I knew to start slow, but my adrenaline was pumping.

The next thing I knew I was at mile 5. Fifty five minutes later mile 5. I was shocked. 5 miles takes me 1:05. I knew I needed to slow down, but I felt great. So I kept on. Mile 10 my bladder took over. I was tempted to pee in the woods, but found a port o potty with no line. I let go off precious hydration and ran on. The next thing I knew it was time to split. The 1/2 marathoners went right and I went left. 13.1 two hours and twenty four minutes later. I couldn't believe what was happening. I ran harder. I ran faster. The next thing I knew mile 18, three hours and fifteen minutes later. The Spartan Sister told me months ago "The race begins at mile 20". Three hours and thirty two minutes later my "race" began. Miles 21-23 were the HARDEST STEPS I HAVE EVER TAKEN!!!!! I wanted to walk, but I had come so far I couldn't quit now. I pulled from my reservoir of support. "Katie is a fighter". "You are OUR champion". "Trust your training". I began to sing. "That's the night when the lights out in GEORGIA!!!!" The next thing my tired sweaty eyes saw were the numbers 23. A mere 3.2 miles stood in my way. I climbed over the wall and soared into my second wind.

Miles 23 & 24 whizzed by. As I approached mile 25 I looked to my left and my heart leaped. I saw 4 very familiar faces. My eyes burst into tears and my feet got faster. Miss Independence, Spartan Sister, SS's hubs Robo Cop, and Robo Cop's Mama, were there with cow bells and signs screaming and cheering for me. My hand went over my mouth and my tears burned as they rolled down my cheeks. "I am KILLING this!!!" I screamed as I approached mile 26.

As I approached the final corral I searched. Where are they??Where are they?? And then I saw it. A large caring hand waving at me. A face beaming beaming with pride holding our sleeping toddler in his arms. Tears. I saw my Dad. More tears. 4:33.46 I crossed the finish line. The Race Crew draped my medal around my neck an hour faster than anyone, including myself ever expected or imagined.



The rest is a blur. I hugged my mom, my hubs, and my dad. "I am so proud of you", he said as four big crocodile tears fell down his face. I made my over to the sidewalk and kissed my sleeping children. I saw my niece Baby R (not really a baby any more considering she's 7) with what I thought was an illusion. The Scholar Sister appeared to be holding her hand. Was I delirious? The Scholar lives in TX???? No. I wasn't dehydrated she was there in the flesh. My ENTIRE family was there!!!!!!!!!!!! Sobbed. Blubbery mess in her arms.

I learned two things that day. One being I may need to invest in a Garmin. My GPS tracker may have been off a bit. Robo Cop kept accusing me of being a sandbagger!!!! I then shut him up with my tracks of my runs!!!! My neighbor stopped me tonight and said "I have seen you run. You looked liked a 5:30. Amazing." Besides investing $$ in a new gadget I learned that inside me there was a champion. The little girl who used to run races with her dad was still alive inside of me. As the race progressed and I realized I wasn't going to crash it occurred to me that she was inside all a long. I was too scared to let her out. I was afraid of failing, falling, staying comfortable was easier, but taking the risk and pushing my limitations paid off in a BIG way!!!!!!!!! I not only finished my marathon, but I finished in 4:33.46. Over an hour faster than anyone, ESPECIALLY me had planned.

It's hard to believe that it's over, well not that hard considering I can hardly move an inch. What an amazing ride, with such a sweet, sweet ending. I am grateful the good Lord blessed me with a body capable of "killing it", a family who supported "it", and a journey that lead me not only to the finish line, but to depths of myself I would have never found. The journey to 26.2 has taught me so much about myself, my life, and my direction.

I am not going to quit running. J Man's Mama (Baby M's "boyfriend"s mama) won't let me. But I am taking a week or so off!!! I am planning on the Hilton Head Half Marathon in Feb. So this journey, the journey of me, the stay at home, marathon mama continues.

May your journeys be fruitful, full of love, and fast feet.

Week 19: 32.2 Miles
Lesson learned: We all have a champion hidden inside.

                                              Me and my fellow marathon Champions!!!

                                                My husband, my medal, and ME!!!

                                                    My girls. The best Trophies EVER!!!!

2 days and a wake up away...Weeks 17&18

18 weeks ago I began a journey. A journey to 26.2 miles. In 2 more days and a wake up I will lace up my shoes and pound the pavement. I have been pounding pavement for 18 weeks, but this time there is a finish line....a finish line.

The last two weeks I have tapered my runs. It's kinda funny when my husband asked me week 17 "How long is your long run this week?" When I replied "12" he said, "Oh. That's nothing." 18 weeks ago 12 miles seemed daunting, impossible, and just last week it was "nothing".

So here I sit. I am not even sure what to say. I have been terrified of an injury. My left knee has been bothering me a bit. During my 12 miler last week I shorted it to 10. It wasn't anything major, but I figured why risk it?? Tonight I was supposed to run 4, but I am so tired. At this point I think rest is more important than 4. Tomorrow I will run my last 3 before the gun goes off Saturday morning.

So here I sit, laptop in bed writing my last entry into my journal before I run a marathon, a marathon. It's kinda funny. 6 years ago I sat in my office (I was a property manager at one point. Quit--go figure:). I looked over at my friend Robb and said, "I am going to run a marathon". I found one too. It was the NYC marathon, and it happened to fall on my birthday. Needless to say, that never happened. On my 27th bday I marathoned it all right, all night in a smokey bar. Tonight I text my friend and said "It's not the NYC, but it's a marathon on my birthday!"

So here I sit, hydrating and carb loading, typing, sipping water, and crunching my apple. I have done all I can. I have put in the time, the miles, the TIME, and the MILES. I can only hope my body and my mind allow me to complete this task. At my current pace I am looking to finish anywhere between 5:45 and 6:00 hrs, it's not record setting by the world's standards, but it is by mine.

So here I sit, nervous, excited, scared, and proud. I am nervous because it's the toughest thing I have ever done, minus delivering a 9lb 15oz baby with no drugs. I am excited because what a feeling!!! I can't wait to run the 1st and the last mile of this race, now the other 24.2....well??? I am scared that the 89.9% I have put into this wasn't enough. I say 89% b/c I know my "A" game and I made some choices during my training to suit me, not my marathon. But what's a marathon medal without a life to go with it?? I am proud because for the last few weeks as I hit mile 2 in a long or a short run I cried, this is really going to happen. I have talked the talk and walked the walk, I made excuses, but I kept going. I didn't stop training when I realized I was SLOW!! I got out of bed at 4:30 am to beat the summer heat. I didn't quit on my marathon, and I didn't quit on me. For that I am proud.

So here I sit, 17lbs lighter. This morning's scale said 138.4, a far cry from the 155 just 18 weeks ago. I can run a single mile in under 11 minutes without puking (almost). 18 weeks ago I told my sister I wanted to lose 10lbs and be able to run an 11 minute mile. I now have done both. (Now, that 11 minute mile is not consistent, but it can happen!!!!!) As the pounds came off my confidence returned. I began to feel better about myself, not just because I shed a few pounds, but the commitment I made that put me back in pre-baby jeans!!!

So here I sit, grateful, grateful for my family, my friends, and everyone who has supported me on this journey. This week I have received cards, a package, emails, and texts all wishing me luck and sending me love. To top that off we celebrated Baby E's first year on this sweet earth!! I am a wife, a mother, and friend who is blessed beyond words. This race is small potatoes when you compare it to the greatness that surrounds me daily. This isn't my race. I wish I could own it, but I couldn't do it without each one of you.

So here I sit, two days away from my 33rd birthday, two days away from the Savannah Rock and Roll Marathon.

So here I sit, ready to run.

Weeks 17&18: 35 miles
Lesson learned: Believing you can do something doesn't get it done. Doing it will.

When my mate met my soul, I could fly. Weeks 15&16

On the heels of my 20 miler week 15 started out pretty well. My confidence was booming, so booming I scraped my long long run to play with friends. I did squeeze in 2 short runs, but I axed my long run for a good time with an old college friend and his beautiful baby girl. Translation: I wanted to have FUN. I didn't want to RUN. Not the best approach to have when you are 5 weeks out and building up to a long run of 23 the following week.

So once I again I amped up my game the following week. Anybody else see a pattern here??? Week 16 was full it's own obstacles and hang ups, but these were definitely not FUN. The J crew started the week with Baby M excreting everything she ate from both ends of her tiny little body. She was knocked out on the couch all day Monday, which isn't always a bad thing, got a lot done, but at the expense of my sweet kid suffering. The rest of the week she slowly rebounded. I deloused the house with my fingers crossed that another J wouldn't fall victim to the bug. Our tummies were sparred, but Baby E apparently wanted some attention too. One minute we had a happy smiley baby, the next she was slumped in her highchair with a 103 fever!!! The fever lasted nearly 4 days. Blood work, urine samples, and three VERY long nights later her viral invasion was defeated by her tiny but tough immune system. We were all weak. We were all tired, but we were grateful that everyone was on the mend. Mommy and Daddy have managed to evade both sets of germs at this point, and despite the long week I managed to get in every mile.

During my first short run of the week I started off huffing. I mean I run a 13+ minute mile, but that night the wind was beneath me and I was rocking and rolling. I was running a "fast" 11 minute pace. I felt on fire. I was only doing a 5K, so I knew it wouldn't last long, so I kept pushing. During my last mile I was tired. I had almost thrown up, not once but twice. Anybody who has had a baby can tell you that sometimes when you cough, sneeze, laugh really hard, jump, well sometimes your bladder sends you a little reminder that you have given birth and leaves a little Hallmark greeting, ya pee a little. Not a lot, just enough for you to be reminded of the fact that you and your body will never be the same, so one can imagine what this is like after 2 back to back babies. As I gagged and held tightly to my dinner my bladder emailed me my Hallmark reminder. I ran on. A little pee, a lot of sweat, what's the difference?

I almost walked the last part of mile 3, but I yelled at myself "Push McGonnell PUSH". McGonnell is my maiden name. I started to pick it up, but as I ran I realized that I am a Jasionowski. I have always been spunky. I have always been fun. I have always been driven, just not accomplished until I met a boy in a blue polo and khaki pants. My life changed in that instant. Our courtship was quick. We were engaged within 6 months of meeting and married a year later. In those first 6 months I began my first "real" job. I was a manager with Ruby Tuesday pulling in great money for a 24yr old. I went from being a flighty 20 something to a grown up in almost an instant. Our first year of marriage was tough. I blamed him of course, but when you took a good at it it was me. I didn't like where I was in life. I didn't like who I was. It was me. I wanted more, not in my spouse, but in myself. After I started and stopped 3 careers in a years time I decided to go back to school. SJ was very familiar with the quitter in me and he looked at me and said "You have to do this". Two and half years later I did, nearly with honors. My college degree was so important to me for a long time I thought it was what filled me, what changed me, but during that run I realized how wrong I was.

In the last 7 years all of my dreams have come true. I am wife, a mother, a college grad, a loyal friend, I have a resume that will open doors for me when I return to work, I have it all. I love the spotlight and I manage to squeeze myself into whenever I can, but honestly I don't deserve it. My wonderful husband does. Some how the two of us together make magic. We don't have a love story worthy of Hollywood credits, but we have a way of making each other better. I say we, but I mean HE (just another attempt at sharing the spotlight). HE puts my needs above his own. He puts our children above that. He is an amazing man, that without him I don't know who I would be and honestly I don't think I want to. He has sat at home caring for our children as I have run over 300 miles during this training. He doesn't "get" running for 26.2, but he understands and supports my need. He always has. He always will. I became great when I married the best thing about me, my Jasionowski.

From here on out it's cake. 12, 8, RACE!!!! My 23 miler was exhausting, but I did it. I didn't cry this time. I am saving the energy for the finish line. I am ready to run.



Lesson Learned: My husband isn't my best friend-He is my everything.

You can run but Mommy guilt will find you....Weeks 13&14

Well, I wish I could say that weeks 13 and 14 were full of some inspiring events, but alas that was not the case. Week 13 started off with a blow, to my ego.

I have been pretty pumped that I have lost 8 pounds during this training process. At my last thyroid check (I am one of the lucky ladies with hypothyroidism), 4 months after giving birth, I asked my MD what my weight was my previous visit. He said, "147.8". I was pretty pumped because that was 2008 and my weight was the same in 2011 post both babies. Feeling pretty good, until the kind sir, who he himself had recently dropped half a person, said "Wanna know what you weighed when you FIRST came to me?" Before I could even interject an "Ahhh, NO!!" He drops three little words, "135". Thanks buddy. Way to make a post partum mom feel great about herself.

So when I went for my 6 month follow up I was pumped. I was ready to show this sucker my numbers. I was ready for him to say "Well, well, nice job. Training for a marathon??" I weighed in pretty stoked to see his reaction as he read my chart. The Doc rolls and in and I am waiting for it. Sweet redemption heading my way....

Now if you have been following blog from it's inception you may notice some numerical inconsistencies. I waited. Nothing. No great job? No good work? No looking good? I was heading to get blood work when I asked, "Just wondering, how much did I weigh the last time I was here?" Here it comes, vindication..."Ah, let's see 147.8. Same as today." The super ego I walked in with quickly deflated. I realized that after I left that first appointment 6 mths earlier I put ON 8 pounds!!!! My 155 starting weight had nothing to do with my 2 children, just me. Just me on my couch eating cheese puffs and ice cream. Now I have subsequently lost them, so I am indeed proud and excited, don't get me wrong--- but man my pride was leveled.

I bruised my knee up in VA, so I took it easy on the short runs. Translation: I was lazy and the couch and new TV seemed way more appealing, my bruise was the perfect reason<excuse> to keep me planted. I did manage to do 4. My long run for the week was a biggie, 16 miles. Despite my lack of effort during the week my long run went pretty well. I was slow. It was hot, but I finished. I sport two Nike GPS' while I run and the mileage conflicted. One said 15.5. The other 17. Somewhere in there I did 16.

Week 14 started off on the coat tails of a long unmotivated week, but I know that this is crunch time. I had to quit defeating myself. I was ready for week 14. My children however, my checkbook, and my own self pity decided to stand in my way.

When you are pregnant Dr's, friends, and other mothers prepare you for an emotional toll every mother feels. Every working mother experiences it. That first time you drop your child with another as you return to work you become overwhelmed with..."Mommy Guilt". How can you leave your most precious commodity with another? How can you abandon your sweet bundle? Or worse, you secretly find relief in your time apart?? Mommy guilt. It's real and it's a bitch. It's terrible to be on either side of the MG coin. Your heart breaks when you hear from a caretaker that your baby smiled for the first time and you missed it. Your heart breaks that you enjoy slipping out from work early to get a pedicure instead of picking up your wee one early. Mommy guilt. When you are carrying your sweet baby others prepare you for the inevitable invasion of the MG virus, but what about the stay at home mom? You would think she would immune to such an infection. Every mother is a carrier of the MG gene.

I was a working a mother up until I had my second bundle Baby E. All of the above scenarios applied to me. On maternity leave last December it became very clear that the best choice for our family was for me to stay at home with our girls. I loved my job, but the teeny-tiny salary I was being paid would barely cover childcare, let alone anything else. I was excited about staying home with my ladies. I would be there for every milestone. I would conquer the MG virus. Or so I thought.

There are two perceptions of being a SAHM. The first being "She stays at home. How tough can that be?" And then you hear "It's the hardest job you will ever do." I always went with "how tough can it be?" Until I started my new profession. My children are amazing. My 28 month old is crazy smart, vivacious, curious, creative, and downright sassy. My 11 month old is a dynamo!! She is a gentle, quite, kind, observer, with an emerging sense of humor that is adorable. My life is so full. A day in my office consists of cuddle time, days in the park, painting, reading, blowing bubbles, and trips to Monkey Joe's. What's so tough about that?

<<We interrupt these precious moments for a toddler tantrum, diaper blowout, dogs barking, laundry buzzing, sister slapping, baby crying, 15 minutes late for a well check kinda morning>> Multiply this by 62 and that is my day. It's a roller coaster of emotions when you spend your day with your little ones. A park I am SO glad to be running, but it is emotionally and physically exhausting. There are moments where you find yourself wishing you had a "real job"--guilt. You find yourself yelling at and a punishing your child because YOU are tired and frustrated--guilt. You yell at your husband because he gets to go out for work after hours--guilt. A simple solution is to take some time for yourself, get a sitter, see a movie with the hubs, but because you aren't working and you are barely making ends meet you can't afford it---guilt. You then begin to feel guilty because WHO FEELS THIS WAY??? Every mother does. We just don't talk about it.

My running used to be my refuge, my break. Easy on the wallet and good for the heart AND soul, but I gotta be honest with ya, running 16 miles in the post summer south GA sweat box is not as therapeutic as it once was. I managed to get in all my short runs, including a 9 mile run in 87 degrees (heat index 90). The Mommy Guilt got in, but I wasn't letting her win. At first I went inward. I was embarrassed about how I felt, but then it occurred to me, I know I am not the only one. My phone rang and another SAHM mom friend was standing on her ledge ready to jump (figuratively speaking). I shared my chaos. In that moment we both knew weren't alone. No mother EVER should. When my girls read these words years from now I want them to know that being a mother is the most incredible thing a woman can do. Your body creates, carries, and gives birth to life. No one but a woman can do that. You learn to love this tiny creature that keeps you up all night long and still manage to be overcome with emotion when they say "Mama" for the first time and proceed to puke down your shirt. No one but a woman can do that. You go to bed at night thinking there's no way I could love you more, and the next day you do. No one but a woman can do that. You feel guilty with or without your kids, only a woman feels that, only a mother understands it. I don't look at it as mommy guilt anymore, just love taking a wrong turn. It's all apart of the fun that is being a mom. Unlike amusement parks life doesn't come with a map. You get backed into an emotional corner, but you and the love for your children work your way out.

After an emotional week I set out to conquer 19 miles. Fall arrived just in time for my morning run. I ran, and it was beautiful. I felt great. I felt so good that I didn't stop at 19...I did 20. When I watched the 19.99 flip to 20 tears streamed down my face. All the training has paid off. All the hard work, all the blood, sweat, and tears have lead me to 20 miles. 14 short weeks ago I struggled with 5. It was an amazing feeling that I look forward to reliving as I watch my girls graduate, marry, and become mothers of their own.

Weeks 13&14: 58 miles
Lesson learned: Mother's don't need resumes. They are just awesome.

When it rains, it floods...Weeks 11

Week 11 started off great!!! After my running epiphany my whole outlook changed. I felt renewed and confident and REALLY excited to tackle my 15 mile long run on Saturday, but then it began to rain. My sweet little Boro stayed very dry, but my parents who live nestled right outside of our nation's capital in Alexandria VA, well it began to rain, and it rained, and it rained, and it rained. Not a big deal. I mean it rains, but the constant construction in my parents neighborhood doesn't allow anywhere for the water to go. 5 years ago they had 3 feet of water enter their home. Thursday night I got the call that they had been evacuated and the water was rapidly rising. Tears welled in my eyes as I spoke to my mother "Katie it's just stuff. We'll be fine." My parents and their 74 year old neighbor made their way to higher ground. They listened to rain the pelt the ceiling as they attempted to sleep, with every drop the uncertainty of what the morning would bring set in. The sun tried to come out, but the rain kept falling. My folks returned home in a light drizzle to find their basement covered in mud, muck, and mayhem. Mother Nature had been kind this time, but she still left nearly 6 inches of rain and mud.

I haven't talked much about my family, which is a real shame because I have 3 amazing sisters, Spartan Sister, The Scholar, and Miss Independence. My parents are pretty awesome to. My dad spent 27 years serving our country while my mother hand raised us girls. My mom is the world's mother. Ask anyone who has met her. The moment she meets you, you instantly become family. She embodies all that is right in the world. She is kind. She is loving. She is giving. She is better than ice in the desert. ALL of my friends respect and love my mom, some even more than their own mothers. She is just all that a mother should be, and she shares it in every hi, every hug, every handshake (The hand shake is rare. She's definitely a hugger). My mother is also a rock. Several years ago she lost one of the most pinnacle people in her life. Miss Lin was a beautiful soul that my mother took refuge in. At her funeral my mother didn't shed a tear. She comforted her children and others around her. She was graceful, dignified, and compassionate, even when on the inside she was crumbling, she put others first. She always does. She always will. That's my mom.

I missed my mom's call Friday afternoon because I was at Chick-Fil-A with my girls and my in-laws. My mom has taught me to treasure every second with my kids. Baby M FINALLY overcame her fear of the "big slide". I heard my phone, but watching my daughter slide with pride took precedence. My mom taught me to value these precious moments. After about 15 times down the slide I checked my phone. I listened to my voicemail and my stomach fell to the floor. It was my mom. She was crying. She asked me to come home. I stood there for a moment frozen. My mother, in my whole 32 years has never been broken or vulnerable. I immediately called her back. In classic mom style she was collected and told me she was ok, and it was silly for me to come. My mom recently lost her mother, and the flood washed away some tangible memories for her. When she found the rain soaked, mud stained journals of my grandma's my mom took off her cape and became a daughter. My mother has always been super mom. In that brief message, she wasn't a mother, but a daughter mourning the loss of her mother.

Long story short, the next day I was on a plane back to the rolling hills of VA. My in-laws took my ladies, and I spent the week helping my parents clean up. When I should have been crushing 15 miles I was boarding my flight to DC. I may not have been running, but I sure was working!! I think I sweated more loading and unloading their basement than I have during this training process!! My short runs consisted of carrying boxes and loading furniture, which I almost killed my 63 yr old father with a 7 foot craft cabinet!!!!

I did get to my 15 miler mid week. After we had them "settled" back in, my mom dropped me at the Mt. Vernon trail. My run started at Dyke's Marsh and I ran to Mt. Vernon and back. What a beautiful run. The sun was rising over the marsh as I headed out. I was taken back at the beauty that surrounded me. The date was September 14, 2011. My mind began to remember what I was doing 10 years prior.

On September 14, 2001 I was glued to the television along with the nation. Watching, waiting, quietly accepting that there would be no more survivors. It was too late. They have been in there too long, but myself like everyone else I remained hopeful. Three days earlier I woke up to a phone call from the Scholar Sister. The night before had been a "long" one, I was a mere 22. My roommate and I had celebrated her bday so 9:50 in the am was EARLY,especially when our heads hit the pillows in the wee hours of the morning. I think I was still drunk when the Scholar asked me "Are you watching the news?" I laughed and responded "Why the hell would be I be watching the news??" I turned on my television and saw the smoke. I saw the fire and my sister said, "We can't find dad". My father had a meeting at the Pentagon that morning. Instantly I was sober, paralyzed in fear. I called work and told them I would be late. I drove to work with tears streaming down my face. It stung and it burned. My heart stung and it burned. What if my dad is hurt? What if my dad is gone? I couldn't reach either of my parents. I don't remember much of the timeline that followed, but I remember getting to work and everyone looking at me. A tear stained 20 something with no idea if her dad was hurt? on fire? worse? What seemed like an eternity passed. My manager Karen ran from the back office and told me my mother was on line 1 and my family was accounted for. I will never forget when my mother said to me "Daddy's meeting was cancelled. He is fine." I fell to my knees. I sobbed. I cried more than any rain has ever filled a basement. I was relieved. Still frozen with fear, but relieved. I wanted to go home, but my mom told me to "stay put". I know she said these words to me because in that moment Statesboro, GA was seemingly safer than DC.

That Christmas I visited the Pentagon. It was still burnt and a giant flag covered the remnants of my innocence, my sense of security, and the peaceful world as I knew it. My family was so lucky on September 11, 2001. When I booked my flight for September 10, 2011 my stomach quivered, like so many others "I can't wait to go home". Ten years. Thousands of lives. One changed heart. In the days that followed 9-11 I coined my mantra, Love Big or Be little. I learned in an instant, like we all did, that life can change in an instant. My family was sparred the grief and the lifelong feeling of loss. I learned that day to love each and every day, even the bad ones. I was in DC on the 10 year anniversary. I attended the Warrior Walk at Arlington Cemetery. During the service's prayer a plane flew over head, I wasn't scared. I felt safe and protected, a feeling that took nearly 10 years to obtain, but it was there. I honored the lives that were lost that horrific day and honored the men and woman that have died giving me back my sense of security, my peace of mind. It was a beautiful morning September 11, 2011. A beautiful somber morning. As I waited for the metro I thought of the footsteps I am filling. Mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, all stood on the same platform headed to work on beautiful September morning.

It was a great trip home. The circumstances of the trip weren't the most favorable, but the trip itself was amazing. The people affected by the flood were incredibly positive. I saw neighbors helping neighbors, people laughing through tears, a feeling that empowered a nation 10 years prior. I was going to ask everyone who reads my words to donate to $26.20 to a charity of their choice in my daughters' name, but after this weekend I was reminded of the importance of time. As that sense of security has crept back the unconditional love of our neighbors has diminished. Instead of giving $$$ I am asking you to give your time. If you read my blog or happen to read it just this one, I am asking you to give 26.2 hours of your time over the next year. Give it to whomever you please, but save your cash and give your time. Email my girls via my email and tell them about YOUR 26.2! Your time is more valuable than money, and our time is a gift. A gift so many families wished they still had. Honor your time. Love Big or Be little.

Weeks 11&12: 26 miles

Lessons learned: Our time is gift that is meant to given.

Kjasionowski@hotmail.com
Please share with my girls how you spent your 26.2

My Marathon: We interrupt week 11's training for an important a...

My Marathon: We interrupt week 11's training for an important a...: First and and foremost...I AM NOT PREGNANT!!! Nor am I throwing in the towel. I had one of the best runs tonight, and it had nothing to do w...

We interrupt week 11's training for an important message.....

First and and foremost...I AM NOT PREGNANT!!! Nor am I throwing in the towel. I had one of the best runs tonight, and it had nothing to do with my pace, the weather (although that was AMAZING), how awesome I looked, or how far I went. It was a simple 5 miles at nearly a 15 minute pace, but it was wonderful.

The last few weeks I have been trying to figure out ways to move faster as I go forward with this process. Running a quick ten, walking 1, pushing hard during my short runs, hydrating, eating, mind games, new shoes, you name it I have tried it. Tonight I just ran. My hip has really started to bother me the last two weeks. Up until this point the only "pain" I have felt was my knee. That had nothing to do with my training. I over pronate and a new shoe fixed my ailments. My hip was another story. I began to worry (still am a tiny bit concerned, but not too much) that I had a real injury. I did some research and stretched my IT bands, problem solved. I ran yesterday pushing every mile and in the end I shorted the run and immediately my hip began to hurt. I had to stop listening to my ego and start listening to my body. She is politely saying, "Can you please slow down?"

Now I run a 13-13:30 mile. If I slow down too much it will be in time to watch the sun rise the day after the race. When I push I shave it down to 11-11:30, but my body is sending me a message. She isn't ready to do it my way, she has to do it in hers. The average woman births a baby in 8-12 hrs. My first bundle took nearly 31, my second slightly over 24. When my body does marathon duty she does it slowly, but in the end sweet success.

My Nike plus has tracked my steps since 2007. When I see the old me starring me in the face my 13:30 twists in my gut. Tonight I had a realization. I don't ever want to be the person I was in 2007 again. The last 4 years have allowed me to grow and change into a person I am so proud to be. As each year passes I learn more, do more, love more, live more. In 2007 I was in the gym 5 days a week. Now I spend my free time blowing bubbles at the park, swinging "HIGH IN THE SKY MOMMY", kissing boo boos, bouncing at Monkey Joe's, and listening to Sammy the Seal 100x's before lunch. I don't want those 5 minutes back. I wouldn't trade what I have now to go back in time, so stop obsessing.

I have struggled all my life, like most woman, with self worth, self esteem, and confidence. I had an blazing red Afro, freckles all over, and pasty white skin mixed in there....it was inevitable!!! I weighed barely 71lbs when I started HS. I learned early on that humor can mask any hurt, and I have used this my whole life. As I grew older I began to gain confidence, but there is always something. Just last year I hesitated to go on a swimming play date with our toddler. "All the mom's have their PhD's or their Master's. I only have my BS and am currently making $10 bucks an hr!!!" Praise the good Lord I got over myself and not only got into a bathing suit with them, but opened up to them. Great group of ladies, mothers, professionals, but most importantly my friends.

I live in southeast GA and for nearly 10...count them 10 years I didn't wear shorts. I was too pale. I didn't wear flip flops because my feet are REALLY ugly (now my feet ARE really ugly, ask any of my sisters), but I finally accepted and loved my pastiness and ugly feet and have been happy, confident, and comfortable in shorts and flops. Tonight I accepted that I am not going to be fast. I don't want to be fast. I want to finish and be able to enjoy the evening (after a substantial nap) with my family.

Accepting who you are is an indescribable feeling. Loving that person is even bigger. I don't think one truly loves everything about themselves, but man it feels good to let go and accept.  When I got home I stretched, and so far my hip feels great. It will be sore tomorrow, but not as sore as it would have been had I run like some one who I am not. My hope and prayer is that my girls, all girls for that matter, learn these lessons at a younger age than I did.

Mid week: 8 miles
Lesson Learned: Strive to be who you want to be, but don't deny who you are.

My Marathon: Hello hydration....week 10

My Marathon: Hello hydration....week 10: Always be prepared. I should have been a boy scout b/c I would have learned this lesson at a much younger age. As a mother I have learned to...

Hello hydration....week 10

Always be prepared. I should have been a boy scout b/c I would have learned this lesson at a much younger age. As a mother I have learned to always be prepared. Be prepared for anything. Bodily fluids can shoot out of any orifice at any given moment, multiple outfits in tote, check. Plastic bags to collect said remnants, check. Although you fed your children moments before you left your home for a ten minute fuel up, one will inevitably be hungry, snacks packed, check. Don't forget entertainment, a 40 min wait on your food is 1yr in a toddler's life, crayons, paper, books, and toys, imagination packed, check.

When I first became a mother I fell victim to the over packed baby syndrome. A three day weekend trip required 4 bags of "just in case clothes", 2 cases of diapers, 2 cases of wipes, bath seats, highchair, snacks, breakfast, lunch, and dinner for a week, shoes that fit, shoes that might fit in case their feet grew overnight, jumpers, large pack and play, small pack and play, 10 blankets per day, receiving blankets that I never used at home, but brought b/c " I might need them". The kids were ready for anything, but when mommy went to get dressed for Christmas Eve dinner, she had no underwear (true story).

That pretty much sums it up. My kids are healthy, smart, and prepared. I however can't find my keys, sunglasses, or my watch on a daily basis. Don't get me wrong, I am not selfless, my kids are together, mom is a mess. I did focus on myself this week. Before every run I ate and drank accordingly. I fueled my body with mainly nutrients, minus the bag of sour cream and onion chips I consumed in a four day span (never shop hungry).

My long run was 14 miles. I enlisted the help of Spartan Sister and Marathon Mama (Sarah Davis). I pumped my body full of H2O the day before and carried a Gatorade/water mix during my run. Holy hydration!!! Miles 6-9 I was cruising at an 11:30 pace!!!! I felt great, assumed I looked great, and rocked it. As I ran the first five I reminded myself that my LR's don't have to be a chore. I mean for over 2 hrs I am away from the lights, sounds, sippy cup filling, tantrum wrangling, toy dodging, baby whining, dogs panting, dryer buzzing, time out dealing, bill paying, grocery shopping, meal planning, vacuum cleaning,
bathroom polishing, daily duties of my job. A job that doesn't get a Labor Day holiday or any other for that matter. It fueled me more than my magical juice. I began to embrace my "me time". For the last 9 weeks all my runs were work, week ten, 14 miles, became pleasure.

At 5:30 in the am on the streets of my Boro there aren't too many people. I literally began singing, out loud and proud. I was SINGING as each foot crushed the cool 75 degree pavement. I belted out Bon Jovi, Angie Aparo, Dixie Chicks and more.....until mile 12, apparently The Wall and I had another appointment. Little did he know I was prepared this week. I kept on. Yelling at myself "PUSH". "YOU CAN DO THIS. PUSH" I was my own doula during this run. When I pushed out my 9lb 15 oz baby girl, all naturally (seriously..no drugs)  I had a WONDERFUL doula by my side. But my 14 I used all I had...Leave it all on the road. I didn't break any records, but I did a much better job. 13.1 took 3 hrs, 14 took 3:05, that is a definite improvement.

I ran. I ran well and I ran hard. I am proud of my dedication to myself, but I am semi-proud of a choice I made. I love that show "What would you do?" You know the one where they fake situations to see if human nature prevails for good or evil. My long runs I leave my humble track and run "in town". I have extended my route as my mileage has increased. Statesboro is a very safe community, but I do run through the pieces of what might be considered the outskirts of a "not so great" neighborhood. I saw 2 men on the side of the road. I immediately crossed the street. As I ran on they crossed back, so I crossed over. I was approaching a gas station that was lit up like the 4th of July. I knew if my gut said stop I would be safe there. I ran on. I soon realized there was a woman on the opposing side of the street. I took out my ear bud to hear what was going on. One of the men was SCREAMING at her, words and sentences that no one should hear. I was terrified. From my brief encounter with the threesome it appeared that they may not have been to bed yet, time approaching 6am. The yelling escalated and I ran faster. I passed the gas station with onlookers looking, but no one saying a word. I ran. But then I stopped. My own fear may lead to a woman being beaten, verbally slaughtered, or worse?? I thought of my own girls. I would want someone to make sure they were ok. I paused my workout turned around and walked to a hotel across the street from where the three were arguing. I debated my next action. I mean it isn't a crime to argue, but I was scared for her. I stood behind the bushes, seconds away from going inside to call 911, when it went silent. I jumped out from behind the bushes to see the girl getting into a car and drive away. My lips were seconds away from screaming "Are you Ok??" when I saw her get into the car.

She left with what appeared to be friends, but with the "screamer" in tote. I am not a praying person, but I prayed for her and her safety. I wish I had swallowed my own fear and crossed the street to make sure she was ok. I am glad I didn't keep going. I am proud that I cared; I just wished I cared more. I should have approached her immediately, but fear paralyzed me. Sadly with or without our gun control people who want to will carry them. I didn't cross the street b/c I was afraid. I should have. I was seconds away from calling the police. If I carried my phone, I would have, but I don't, so I couldn't. I learned in that moment an excuse is just that...an excuse. I did half of the right thing, but the next time I will do it wholly. I can't expect my girls to treat the members of this world with love, respect, and caring unless I show them.

I am taking on 15 this weekend. Every week as I finish I say to myself "ADDING MORE?????" But I am exited about these last 9 weeks. Crunch time baby. Game on.

Week 10: 28 miles
Lesson learned: Die trying not standing by.

My Marathon: Why hello wall, meet my face....weeks 8&9

My Marathon: Why hello wall, meet my face....weeks 8&9: Well it's been awhile. Life just gotten busy the last two weeks between running a half marathon, traveling alone with 2 little people, survi...

Why hello wall, meet my face....weeks 8&9

Well it's been awhile. Life just got busy the last two weeks between running a half marathon, traveling alone with 2 little people, surviving my first earthquake, and dodging a hurricane, my hands have been full. Needless to say I have never been able to juggle, so I had to drop the ball somewhere <insert ball here>.

After my week of being completely unmotivated I headed back to Fleet Feet to trade in my Brooks. I was fitted into a sweet pair of Nike Zooms. As soon as the expert brought out the box I quoted the Spartan Sister and said, "Doesn't Nike make crap running shoes?"  I was reassured that they wouldn't sell me "crap". It was actually pretty funny because he brought me several pairs of shoes and I really liked the crappy shoes. They were supportive, comfy, and not bad on the eyes like most road runners. I left the store confident and satisfied. I wish I could say that about the 13.1 that followed.

My plan was to run my 1/2 on Sunday, but my fly by the seat of her pants mother invited me and my girls to VA. As a stay at home mom, my schedule is pretty, well, wide open. I mean Monkey Joe's and story time aren't appointments that can't be met pretty much anywhere. Instead of leaving Monday, we bumped the date to Sunday. No biggie, but we made this decision moments after I purchased my go fasters. We promised my 3 footer (Baby M...really not a baby anymore at 27mths) a ride on the carousel in the mall after our trip to Mommy's shoe store, her second trip in 2 weeks. I normally carb load before my long runs with a homemade ravioli bake, but this meal would be served in the food court of the Sav Mall. I decided that Sabarro would be great substitute. I think my taste buds were more in charge than any runner's logic. A runner would have realized that a sodium filled meal wasn't the best choice, but the large slice of meat lover's pizza was SCREAMING my name...kkkkAAAAATTTTiiiiEEEEEE. A dedicated athlete would have hydrated their body, but I knew I was running 13.1. I opted for a large Pepsi, followed by a refill. It was better than good; it was awesome.

When I returned home one would have thought I would have gone straight to bed to rest my body for the big day. 12:30 a.m. I finally laid my head down. The second I hit the goose down, my 2 footer awoke. Cutting your 2 front teeth is tough. I got her nestled all snug in her bed and returned to enjoy what was left of my own sweet slumber. In what felt like moments later (approximately 1.5 hrs later) the 3 footer awoke screaming my other name, just like the pizza, mMmmMOOOOOMMMMyyyy. I kissed away the ghosts and goblins and curled up in bed, only to be greeted by my alarm. Ready to run????

I got up, got dressed, and headed out. Did I eat? Nope. Did I hydrate? Nope. I was on my way to victory. The run was long. The run was hot. The run was.....AWFUL!!! I have heard about "The Wall" before, but we have never met. Mile 12 we said "Hello". We then proceeded to hook up like college students at Madi Gras. His hands were all over me. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. My jaw hurt. My legs felt like lead. My body was done!!!! I crossed my imaginary finish line and thought "DOUBLE WHAT????" I began to feel defeated until I thought about my choices. I mean hello??? Sabarro?? Pepsi?? 3hrs of sleep?? The sodium I consumed sucked any resources my 3 hrs of sleep gave me. Idiot. Just plain dumb.

On an up side, my shoes were great. My feet felt great and my knee was 20 again. Those were the only two good things about that run. 

Week 9 I was in VA with the 'rents. I literally dodged natural disasters left and right, an earthquake and a hurricane!! I squeezed in two runs while nestled up to our nation's capitol. I did however miss my long run due to vacation mode and Irene. 

The race is 67 days away. It's crunch time. It's make it or break it. I was always a good crammer in college, but you can't cram for a marathon. Your body takes more than the mind. I am learning a lot about myself during this journey....I am my own worst enemy. And it is time to crush the quitter in me.

Weeks 8&9: 30.1 miles

Lessons learned: Old habits die hard, until you choose to change,

My Marathon: I still got it...week 7

My Marathon: I still got it...week 7: "After last week's 'Sinus Break 2011'(so NOT the same as Spring Break 2007) finding the motivation to tackle my short runs was VERY hard! I w..."

I still got it...week 7

After last week's "Sinus Break 2011"(so NOT the same as Spring Break 2007) finding the motivation to tackle my short runs was VERY hard! I was "gonna run" became a phrase I said several times after I hit snooze and listed a myriad of reasons not to pound any pavement. I did manage to get in two shorties this week adding up to a whopping 7 miles (should have done 12). The quitter in me would like to say "in my defense", but I will spare myself the long list of so called reasons and call myself out, just.plain.lazy. I won't lie, I kinda wished I never made this commitment. I kinda wished I had never blogged, not that I have thousands of followers, but sadly I have made myself publicly accountable. I didn't really want to do it any more. I mean who in their right mind wants to run 26.2 miles??? 4 years ago when I ran and 8:20 flat, ok maybe, today at 13:30, what am I thinking???? I must say it was a very inspiring week.

I did manage to remove myself from the couch to hit up Fleet Feet Savannah. I have always run in a neutral shoe, but after Spartan Sister and I chatted this week, she had similar knee pain that was caused by over pronating that developed over time. My body has been through a lot since my first visit to Fleet Feet. I have created and carried life x's 2 since my last visit (hell my feet grew an inch). So... I wasn't very surprised when the foot expert said "Oh yeah, you are doing a little something there." I was immediately fitted in a stability shoe. The very pale Kenyan told me he wasn't a doctor, but the pain I was describing should eliminate itself in about a week after sporting my new kicks. After a week of feeling demotivated I finally was excited to get back out there and conquer my 11 mile long run.

The alarm went off and I had a million and one reasons to get back in bed until Monday, but my super supportive husband convinced me otherwise. I laced up my new Brooks Adrenaline, strapped on my new Nathan water belt and headed out. I have shaved off a few pounds and by that I mean a cup size. I am looking slimmer, just not in all the right places ( oh yeah, I had to purchase some Body Glide, the name sounds kind of sexy...mmmm Body Glide. However I am using it to avoid chub rub from my arms, not the way I ever I imagined using a product called Body Glide). 11 miles here I come.

We had some nice sized storms the night before, so the weather was quite bearable. I was running and it was going pretty well. I got to about mile 4 when I really thought my toes were going to fall off. My knee was great, but my big fat feet were STRUGGLING! I had myself convinced that running back to the van, my sweet, sweet minivan, was the answer. After a short battle with the quitter and the winner I forged ahead, willing to sacrifice my lower phalanges if needed. I have a secret guilty motivator. His name is Meatloaf. "AND I WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR LOVE...BUT I WONT DO THAT", I carried on. I was glad I did, just a few moments later a truck FULL (ok, just 2) of young college boys drove by, rolled down the window and gave this fat footed, flat chested, mama of two a "hoot". Fuel for the fire. I was amped. Run on mama, run on.

This scenario would have been great if I were in the last leg of my run, but I still had 7 miles to go. 7 miles to play it all out. It occurred to me that these boys may have seen my performance last week. I may have forgotten to mention last week that as I was running I got nosey. I thought I saw one of neighbors and got a bit distracted. One second I was running trying to look all professional and fit and spy on their AM activities, the next I am air born, turned around, and landing in the dirt. Busted it, on a major stretch of road in my humble little Boro. I immediately jumped back up and kept going. I was laughing. I wasn't hurt, well my pride was majorly bruised, but physically I was fine. It was about 45 seconds after the hoot that it occurred to me I was steps away from my blunder. These college cuties may very well have been revisiting the site they saw last week "That's the chic who busted her ass!!!!", after all I am running right in front of a grease haven, hangover remedy, ridden strip on a Sunday AM. Chances are I have seen these boys and they have seen me.

I finished this week's run with my pride intact. I battle my 1st 1/2 marathon next weekend. I have mapped it, and I am ready to go. After this week I go full force with Hal Higdon's training schedule. I am terrified. I can't even fathom running 18 miles in a few weeks, but just a few short weeks ago I was only running 5 feeling the same way about 10 and today I finished 11. This (pardon my french) this shit is getting real and fast.

Week 7: 18 miles
Lesson learned: Don't try to keep up with or worry about the "Jones'", you will land on your ass.

My Marathon: And the journey begins here...

My Marathon: And the journey begins here...: "I am not an athlete. I am not a writer. I am a stay at home mom with a 2yr old and and 8mth old. I guess some may call me a rabbit by the wa..."

My Marathon: Week 1

My Marathon: Week 1: "So I have selected to use Hal Higdon's 18 week training program for the big event. Three short runs a week and one long run. It doesn't seem..."

My Marathon: Like a hamster on a wheel....(week 2)

My Marathon: Like a hamster on a wheel....(week 2): "Week 2 proved to be almost as eye opening as week 1. Did I mention to you that during the week my short runs are done in my neighborhood, my..."

My Marathon: A sweatband and a minivan...week 3

My Marathon: A sweatband and a minivan...week 3: "The 'dirty south' really isn't all that dirty. Muggy, sweaty, and down right stupid hot is probably the more accurate description. Week 3's ..."

My Marathon: Mmmmm bacon in the city...week 4

My Marathon: Mmmmm bacon in the city...week 4: "Staycation=no motivation!!! Man not going anywhere can be exhausting!!! The hubs, me, and my sprouts spent the last 9 days just hanging out ..."

My Marathon: 22 vs 32.....week 5

My Marathon: 22 vs 32.....week 5: "It's hard to believe that in 3 short months I will be lacing up and hitting the pavement for 26.2. The big race just happens to me my 33rd b..."

My Marathon: I think my children hate me...week 6

My Marathon: I think my children hate me...week 6: "Becoming a mother was a pretty awesome experience. When I had Baby M I knew I was born to be a mommy. At 4 weeks she slept nearly 12 hrs a ..."

I think my children hate me...week 6

Becoming a mother was a pretty awesome experience. When I had Baby M I knew I was born to be a mommy.  At 4 weeks she slept nearly 12 hrs a night. She was such an easy baby, happy, healthy, and down right adorable. I balanced family and work like a pro and life was breezy. When we found out we were pregnant again in such quick succession (almost 9mths to the day) we thought to ourselves, we have got this. Famous last words.

I think somewhere there is a quote by Bill Cosby saying that parenthood really begins when you have more than one child. I don't think I have heard truer words. When baby E came on the scene it became clear that the best financial decision for our family was for me to quit my job and stay home and hand raise our precious commodities. All this talk about "the hardest job you'll ever do", what???? This will be a piece of cake....

In the last 9 months I believe I have slept through the night a total of 3 times. You see Baby E was VERY different from her big sister. Until E was about 7.5 mths old she would greet me every 2-3 hrs for a quick drink and a snuggle. Lots of folks would say "Big deal. You stay at home. Take a nap". Ya that old phrase "sleep when she sleeps" well that only applies to one kid!!!  As soon as my newborn baby slipped into slumber, my tumultuous toddler was ready to GO! My easy, breezy Baby M had overnight morphed into an octopus with ninja like speed ready to attack, explore, and challenge EVERYTHING! I was so excited when Baby E finally began sleeping through the night. I remember the first time it happened. I opened my eyes to see a reasonable hour flashing back at me. I took a deep breath and rolled over to continue to enjoy this peaceful serenity when BAM!!! Utter panic fills my veins, WHY DIDN'T THE BABY WAKE ME UP??? I run into to check on her (like every mother does the morning of this milestone) to check to see if she is breathing. I found her sleeping snugly in her crib. That night I looked forward to weeks and months of silent slumber to return once more, but in the wee hours of the morning a storm hit. My little toddler tornado began waking in her sister's place. And the cycle continues...

It's been really fun here the last few months. On many occasions my husband awakes to find me wrapped up in a snuggie spooning with a life size Dora doll on my daughter's bedroom floor. I get up, get to bed, and the baby wakes up or it's time for my short run. Needless to say sleep deprivation has become just a part of my life, kinda like stretch marks. Ain't nothing you can do.

As if the long nights weren't enough, another fun thing about 2 kids is TWICE the germs! It's like being tag teamed by the Williams' sisters. One's coughing, the other's sneezing, I am hopping around the court hoping to dodge what they are serving, but with my sleep deprived immune system I was bound to get struck. Struck down, summer sinus infection 2011, yuck, yuck, yuck.

My short runs were nonexistent this week. I decided to skip Tues and Wed b/c I just didn't have the energy. I attempted Thurs, but the skull crushing headache at 5am kept my shoes at my bedside. I decided to skip all my short runs and tackle 10 miles on Sunday. It was actually a nice break for my knee which had been acting up here and there for awhile now. The first mile was full of lots of loogies and sniffling, but I was back into the swing of things by mile 2. During my long runs I often replay the weeks events in head and even though it had been a really long, tiring, germ filled week, it had also been a pretty awesome one too.

My 9 month old took her first steps this week. Watching my kids take their first few steps, well there is really nothing that compares to that. The pride I have felt both times is just indescribable. The Tornado, although still rips and tears all over the place, is now ripping and tearing with perfect little manners!!! They are growing up so fast and becoming these remarkable little people. I was actually a little grateful for the summer sinus slowdown, I got to watch my girls just be them. No schedule, no appointments, no errands to run, they were just two little babies who literally changed overnight. My infant will soon be a toddler and my toddler a preschooler.

During the last mile of all my runs I (like I assume most 1st timers do) I imagine this is mile 26. I envision who will be there cheering me on. Will I raise my hands up? Kiss to the heavens? Do an Irish jig? And I don't know for certain what I will do that day, but I do know one thing to be true, I will be running into the arms of the two most incredible creations on this planet. And that is what makes this journey so sweet.

Week 6: 10 miles
Lesson learned: Some people see their kids as hurdles. I see mine as the finish line.

22 vs 32.....week 5

It's hard to believe that in 3 short months I will be lacing up and hitting the pavement for 26.2. The big race just happens to me my 33rd birthday. That was actually a huge part in my decision to run this marathon. I mean what a better way to creep closer to 40 then by completing this race. As I trained this week my body was sending me a message, a very quite, but a very clear message..."girl you aren't in your 20's any more".

I ran my short runs Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, instead of Tue-Thurs because I had a girls' weekend planned with two of best girl friends. This left my long run for Friday am. I headed out to slam out 9 miles before our mini road trip to Atlanta. I was doing just fine until I reached the 8.5 mile mark. My knee took a moment to have a conversation with me. It went a little something like this:

"So as much as I appreciate you utilizing me again, do you need to be reminded of the last 3 yrs? In the last 3 yrs you have gained 40lbs, lost 40 lbs. Gained 30lbs, lost 30lbs. Gained 10lbs, and are currently holding on to those with a vengeance. Although the 70lb roller coaster was all baby induced and the outcomes are adorable, you stole precious ligament strength while nursing your young from me too. You literally milked away my strength and endurance because for every ounce you made I became looser and looser. Now here you are finally getting me off the couch and utilizing me again but honey it ain't 2007."

Seconds later my knee got quite and decided to throb and throw a very toddler like tantrum. She refused to do what I asked. As I placed one foot down in front of the other she bucked and bumbled like a 2yr old. So I did what any mother would do. I put that kid in time out. I ended my run and walked the last 1/2 a mile. The tantrum wasn't that bad, but I got the message. It wasn't worth permanent dysfunction to run the last half a mile. After all it's only week 5. I'm not running to fast, but my WHOLE body has changed in the last 3 yr years. I am not in my 20's any more and even though my drive and determination is there, I need to work a little harder on conditioning the whole body.

But before I work like a 32 yr old, I had to play like a 20 yr old! What a weekend! My knee wasn't the only part of body letting me know I wasn't 22 any more. Late nights with the ladies were totally worth the copious amounts of ibuprofen consumed in the last 48 hrs. You know getting older is inevitable, but your spirit doesn't have to gray. I loved walking down memory lane with my girls, but what I really loved was the fact that these girls have shared my past, my present, and will without a doubt be a part of my future.


Week 5: 19 miles
Lesson learned: Getting older is easier when your spirit isn't gray.

Mmmmm bacon in the city...week 4

Staycation=no motivation!!! Man not going anywhere can be exhausting!!! The hubs, me, and my sprouts spent the last 9 days just hanging out in our cozy little neck of the Boro. We played, giggled, cried (well we didn't but the 3 footer did during all of her MANY time outs). We jammed in lots of local fun and flavor during our staycation/vacation. I managed to squeeze in 2 short runs and 1 long run.

So I tried something different this week. Normally when I head out for my long runs I do just that, head out and go. My Nike+ does all the tracking for me, but man as the sweat is pouring down my face and I am beginning to feel like I am about to win an Olympic gold, I push the center button to hear how far I have gone and the robot lady says "1 mile completed"....well I kinda want to shoot myself. I mean really shoot myself. I begin to say "Why the hell are you doing this??? Hello, it's summer in south GA!!! 26.2 really???? You are an idiot." And now although it's not like thousands are reading my words, I sadly have made myself accountable to my commitment. The "runner" in me then gets pissed because I have to keep going. This literally has happened on every long run until this week.

This week the hubs told me about a sidewalk. Sounds kinda strange, but we live in a pretty small, but growing south GA city (the word CITY is a stretch, it's a town. It's a small southern town where you can't buy beer on Sundays), but we have a sidewalk that starts at the university and stretches to the outskirts of said...city (town. no real city is partially dry). I needed to run 8 miles and this stretch of cement from start to finish just happened to be 8 miles! I started to run. This time I knew where I was going. The run never got to tough, never got boring, I knew where I was headed. Plus the smell of homecookin' from Snooky's, fresh pig a fryin', was an awesome treat (seriously it's a town, with a restaurant named Snooky's..come on). It got me thinking about my life, more importantly my early 20's. I always thought I knew where I wanted to go, but hell if I had a clue how to get there. I think I took nearly every side road, back road, trail ride, to get where I am today! As I ran it felt so good to know where I was going and doing exactly what I needed to get there. It wasn't until my late 20's that these two notions collided and I became driven. I really haven't felt this way since I finally decided to "go to college", what I mean by that is actually attend class and produce a GPA. I went to college on and off for nearly a decade before I actually started "producing" (ps. Graduated in 2.5 yrs with a GPA of 3.489, only had 11 hrs after nearly a decade of service, not too shabby...driven). It felt good to feel that way again.

Being a stay at home mom these days all I drive is a minivan, literally. This marathon is for me, about me. I want my girls to know their mommy didn't quit, but more importantly I want to feel driven. I am driven daily, driven a bit closer to crazy everyday. I love my girls and my new job, but being a full time mommy is hard. If you aren't careful you lose yourself  and can become just miserable. This journey I am on is keeping me from losing site of myself and making me the best version of mommy I can be.

This week I ran farther than I have since 2007. My knees are having some growing pains, but overall I feel great. I have hidden the scale b/c after standing on it 100x's a week, I am losing site about what this is all about!!!

Week 4: 14 miles
Lesson learned: Knowing your path makes it easy to follow.

A sweatband and a minivan...week 3

The "dirty south" really isn't all that dirty. Muggy, sweaty, and down right stupid hot is probably the more accurate description. Week 3's heat indexes reached as high as 115, so needless to say running in the afternoon was NOT an option, even "the old guy" wasn't huffing in that heat. My short runs were done in the morning before my roosters crowed i.e. my children were up and pecking around. Even at 6:30 a.m. the muggy, sweaty, down right stupid hot south, was still sauna-rific. The sun wasn't melting away your epidermis, but the humidity opened every sweat follicle and sucked your breath out instantly. With sweat seeping from every pore in my body, my eyes quickly became receptacles of the salty stingy substance. My arms provided no relief for they were dripping too. Everything dripped. The solution became very embarrassingly obvious, I needed a sweat band. Yep, I said it, a sweatband. 32 years old and I am sporting a sweatband, enough said.

The sweatband

You would think that buying a sweatband would have been the worst purchase of the week, but no. My husband and I topped that in a MAJOR way. After our trip to SC our Ford Flex, although very big, proved to be NOT so functional for our family. I am by no means a large woman, but I literally got stuck between the seats fetching goldfish and juice box straws. We were spending a lot of $$$ on a car that met only one need for our family, our "cool" need. When we rolled up in our two toned grocery getter we looked smooth (as smooth as a glorified station wagon allows you to be). It was fully loaded with bells, whistles, and NO room for bodies in it's 6 seats!!! After a long night on the back porch a decision was made, we would trade in the Flex for a......minivan. A WHAT?? We looked at every large SUV possible, but the car payment + gas = no shoes for the children. With heavy hearts we drove the Flex to it's final resting place and drove home with our 2011 Toyota Sienna. I must say we have yet to feel the "swagger" while cruising in our van. 

"Minnie"

A sweatband and minivan all in the same week, talk about feeling old. Slap on some orthopedic shoes and put me in a home!!!! The more I listened to myself whining about what my van didn't have and how stupid I looked in my sweatband I couldn't believe the thoughts streaming in my head and the words coming out of my mouth. The things I am complaining about others may be dreaming about. Somewhere there is somebody wishing they were healthy enough to walk a mile while I run 7 whining about a sweatband. I saw a family of 5 squeezing into their 1996 Honda Civic with the windows down in 115 degree heat, pretty sure they would appreciate my van even without a power lift gate. I quickly remembered to put some gratitude in my attitude. My perspective quickly changed. So what if I look and run at the speed of grandma, I can run. Who cares if my family owns a minivan? I have an amazingly hard working husband who brings home enough money for us to have a brand new car while I get to stay at home and rear our girls. It's not about what you drive, it's about the family you put in it. I have to say I am proud each and every time I strap in my sweet bundles. My bitching stopped there.

The summer heat broke with a great day of rain. I pounded out 7 miles this am and shaved 30 seconds off my pace. When my feet hit the pavement it was a cool 71 degrees. I was very encouraged by this run. The heat is oppressive, but every drop of sweat that gets me to the finish line in November I will now be grateful for. Fuel for my soul and power to my feet.

Week 3: 17 miles
Lessons learned: Somebody out there wishes they had your problems instead of their own, and don't sweat the stupid stuff.

Like a hamster on a wheel....(week 2)

Week 2 proved to be almost as eye opening as week 1. Did I mention to you that during the week my short runs are done in my neighborhood, my 1.1 mile long neighborhood from front to back, including the 5 duplexes??? It's not exactly what one would call scenic, until you look deeper.

Seriously I pass the same 40 houses nearly 10x's per week, around the same time each day. It's not like I am driving and preoccupied dodging sippy cups and turning on Barney. I am alone and I am running, so I have some time to kill. Last week I got in a run and a show as one of my neighbors chatted on his cell phone adjusting himself every 5 seconds with a grab and a tug. I assumed he was talking to an old guy friend and the grabbing and tugging was symbolic for a piece of manhood briefly returning to him after marriage and kids had torn it away. There's the wine guy on his front porch sipping on a sweet merlot as his sprinklers water his grass, the gaggle of neighborhood boys zigging and zagging between two houses, the parentals' of the gaggle sharing a quite moment in their garage as the children play, the adorable family playing basketball in the summer sun, and me.  Me sweating and running, sweating and running, running and sweating, around the same 40 houses like a hamster on a wheel. 

It wouldn't be so bad if, what am I saying yes it would! I now understand why a hamster bites when you open it's cage. He is saying "Get me the f*^k out of here!!!" I love my neighbors and my neighborhood, but man it's BORING!!!!! Not only is it 97 degrees outside, it's 97 degrees on the same street, I am wearing the same clothes, listening to the same music, running the same 3 mile loop....kill me. I try to pretend I am some where else, but as the humidity sucks the breath out of me, all my energy goes in to finishing the run, not creativity. 

There is one real motivating factor in my hood, "the old guy". I don't know his name, but I see him running all the time. Same black shorts, same sunglasses, same shirtless 70+ year old chest air blowing in the breeze. He's kind of a beast. Focused, eyes forward. We always exchange the first pass "Hello". Then the second pass "nod", and the third pass "right to ignore". I think it's runner's code some where. Just like if you are behind somebody and you pass them you must do it with great speed and impressive form.  Then each time you see said runner you mimic this same running style (secretly knowing you can't breathe, but you look awesome). On Tuesday it was hot. I was supposed to run 3 miles, but I could hardly breathe. At 2.7 miles I grabbed my apple juice and was cooling off when "the old guy" (with whom I had been sharing the road) whizzed by. I got pissed. Hell if the old guy can do it, so can I. I reset my Nike+ and finished. 

My long run was better. We escaped to SC this weekend to visit the in-laws. So I literally got out of my cage, not just my neighborhood, but my own home. I also now understand why stay at home moms bite when you open their cage too!!!!! It was nice to be with family and just relax. I was also really excited to be committed even though we weren't at home. I pounded out my 6 miles. I am still running a 13:30 pace, but I set my realistic goals while crushing out my six. I wanted to finish my 1st 26.2 in 4:30, but realistically, I am not sure that is even remotely possible. I am shooting for a 10lb weight loss and a finish time of 5:45. Both I believe are obtainable and if I beat them, well hello stars!!!

 Week 2: 15 miles 

Lessons learned: Quitters don't cross finish lines and if you run down a hill, you must run back up.

Week 1

So I have selected to use Hal Higdon's 18 week training program for the big event. Three short runs a week and one long run. It doesn't seem too daunting until you try to fit it all in with the kids, the house, the hubs, and the fact that I live in south GA. There are only certain times of day that a human can be outside without physically self com busting due to atmospheric pressure and humidity.

My marathon starting condition, ahh well, I can finish three miles in 38 minutes. Power walkers can push past me, but I am able to complete my short runs without any real problems. Sunday I had my long run. After talking with my spartan sister (marathon girl). She was concerned about me jumping right into 6 miles. The one good thing about my body is it can endure a lot. 31 hrs of ALL NATURAL childbirth, not a Tylenol, a Motrin, just a lot of love and support. After a very long day and night we greeted our 9lb 15oz baby girl. My body and my mind together can do some amazing things, but I didn't want to get hurt right out of the gate. I decided to shoot for 5.5.

2 miles in I wanted to turn around. It was during this run that I realized just how hard this was really going to be. I have been leaving myself the option of just doing the half, but during that run I realized I was just giving myself an exit route from the blood, sweat, and tears. Don't get me wrong, blood, sweat and tears go into a 1/2 too, I was just leaving the door open so I could "run" when it got too tough. It was on that run that I imagined crossing the finish line with girls that I decided to really get this done.

Now what the hell was I thinking???? I mean realistically I will be running for over 5 hours!!! That's the time it takes to drive to Orlando with 2 potty breaks! I have to limit what I drink in the car so I won't have to pee, thank God I will be sweating it out. I missed one short one this week which Hal says is ok, but I learned during my long run how important it is for me.

Week 1: 10.5 miles

And the journey begins here...

I am not an athlete. I am not a writer. I am a stay at home mom with a 2yr old and and 8mth old. I guess some may call me a rabbit by the way I like to reproduce, but rest assured this bunny is out of business for awhile. I am just an average woman. Average height 5.5, average weight 155 (I gulp as I type the scale's honest truth), average home, average family. I did graduate from college with a 3.489, which does put me intellectually slightly above average, but my ability to balance my checkbook debunks this heightened status quo. If I could think of one thing that makes me above average, it would be in my ability to "run".

When I was in grade school I told my mom I wanted to take gymnastics. I went and I was pretty good at it. I was no Mary Lou, but I could tumble. Then came the dreaded vault. Suddenly gymnastics didn't seem to be my fit so I "ran", out the door never to return. The closest I came to a gym floor again was middle school basketball. I was really small back then (BELOW average, WAY below. I started HS at 74lbs. With the new GA laws, I would have been a freshman in a booster seat). I was small, but man I was fast. I made the team, but I couldn't shoot a ball to save my life. I did however rock my Air Jordan's in a semi above average way. One day at practice during a defensive drill I grabbed the ball for a fast break, the only thing that was fast was the trip to the ER, broken wrist. After the cast came off I went to a few practices, but then I "ran"...to the locker room for the last time. I played baseball, soccer, tried to golf, did a few street races, all ending with the same result kleets, nikes, clubs in hand, I "ran".

My ability to "run" carried over into my scholastic endeavors as well. I began college in 1997. I graduated in 2008. Some people ask me "Are you a Dr?". Nope just a regular old undergraduate with nearly 11yrs experience. I am was a proud member of several student bodies. Georgia Southern, Tidewater Community College, Georgia Southern (round 2), Ogeechee Technical College, and then back again to graduate from good ole GSU. I always thought when I ran from school I was running onto bigger things, like my up and coming careers. Although I was with Ruby Tuesday for nearly a decade when management got too tough, I ran to Thrifty Car Rental. From Thrifty to property management and from there back to school. I have been "running" for a LONG time.

Now don't get me wrong. I don't stay up late at night crying myself to sleep over missed opportunities because every "run" lead to some other adventure in my life with miles of memories and new friends along the way. I am so happy at home with my girls and I wouldn't change a step that brought me right where I am.  But my history speaks for itself, I am a "runner". I always have been.

So why run a marathon? I picked up ACTUAL running in 2007. I was pretty consistent. I was running an 8:20 mile and hoping to run a 1/2 marathon. Although the "runner" in me came up with every excuse in the book to not actually sign up for one. I was physically able. My longest run to date 11.1 miles in 1:36mins. I was finally ready to really train when two pink lines showed up on stick in the fall of 2008. Obviously I had THE BEST reason not to train (she, Baby M, really is THE best thing EVER). After you have a baby everything changes. I ran here and there, but nothing consistent. Again I was ready to lock it down and pound the pavement when ANOTHER set of 2pink lines appeared, hence my rabbit nickname. When Baby E came on the scene I ran here and there. I even completed my 1st road race in decades, 12k Across the Bay in Cali. My baby sister the same day I crossed the bay completed her 1st marathon in, wait for it, 3:44:01. When I saw her a few weeks before her big race I couldn't believe what I saw. She was ripped!!! I used to be the skinny one! What the hell? I knew then that I needed to get this post baby body back in shape. Even though I am a quitter I like to compete!!!
While I was busy birthing babies a lot of my friends were out there pounding the pavement raking up running accolades. I have the best two "trophies" of them all, but no racing medals or numbers hanging in my garage.

All of the above inspired me, but what actually motivated the "runner" in me was setting such a major goal and accomplishing it. It's not about being faster or thinner than my sister (which NEITHER of those things are even obtainable), it's not about matching the steps of my friends, it's about the process of me. My last few runs were upwards of 13 minute miles. On my last run I realized it's not about the time but about the every step in my journey. And it begins here.