Nine years

Nine years ago today, I hugged my sister for the very last time. I had no idea that would be it. She died two weeks later.

Nearly every year, I write a blog post about my sister around this time of year. It helps me to get through the milestone dates and to keep her memory alive. It helps me come to terms with my grief, which ebbs and flows through the years but never disappears. It never will. The loss is too great.

From 2017: 8 years later

From 2016: If I could call you

From 2015: When something is missing

From 2012: Reflections


When I saw her the last time, I hadn't seen her in four years. FOUR YEARS. Looking back on that, I'm so upset with myself by not making it a bigger priority to see her. We lived in two different parts of the country, had young families, and traveling was difficult. We happened to both be traveling to California in July 2009 and got to spend a couple days together. That was all....only two days in four years. Not nearly enough, but I'm so grateful for those two days. Knowing that I had just seen her has helped me tremendously over the years in getting through my grief.

It doesn't matter how many years have passed...I still wish with all my being that I could pick up the phone and call her. She was my only sister. I could use a sister right now. As I'm entering the last years of raising my kids and am in the throes of teenagerhood, it would be so nice to commiserate with her and get her advice. Sure, I've got so many friends dealing with similar issues, but family is a whole different thing. There is nothing like family. They are irreplaceable.

I want to always be thankful for the people that are in my life, especially our parents. I am beyond excited to see them next week when we travel to California. I wish we had more time there, but it's a crazy schedule with having to fly to Washington for Greg's race as well. However, I'm going to use every minute I can to soak up the love. I never want to take them for granted. Our kids are very lucky to still have both sets of grandparents around. I never knew my paternal grandpa as he passed before I was born, and my paternal grandma died when I was 16. My maternal grandparents both passed over a decade ago. If my kids could spend every week with their grandparents, they would. I do hate sometimes that we live so far away, and I feel some guilt for willingly moving far away, but I think we do a good job of making the most of our time together.

Tell people you love them, appreciate them, and then go and make time for them, even if it's just a phone call. Show grace, find the positives, and for just a minute, think about how you would feel if it was all gone suddenly. Because it can happen.

8 years later

Began on Tuesday, August 1:

It's that time of year again. The first week of August. It snuck up on me this year. I had been doing okay lately, keeping my grief episodes from overwhelming me. But yesterday it snuck up on me. My day was not so good, but I can't pinpoint exactly why. I had a sadness and a lack of motivation that was very hard to shake, that I was feeling incredibly guilty about because I didn't get done all the things I wanted to get done. I think it was grief, which comes and goes still eight years later. I can hold it off a lot better than I used to, but because time doesn't really heal all wounds, it's always there in my subconscious.

I spent a bit of time thinking about what my life was on August 4, 2009, and then all the things that have happened since August 5, 2009.

On August 4 I had a sister who was very sick, but who we thought was getting better. I was worried but optimistic. My sister was in good spirits on the phone when we spoke that evening. I was looking forward to another phone call the next day.

I had a 4 year old daughter and a 7 year old son. She had a 9 year old daughter. She was a writer and worked in a law firm. I was a stay-at-home mom who had just started on an athletic journey, having run my first marathon a few months prior. We were young. I was 35 and she was 37, just one month prior to her 38th birthday.

Fast forward 8 years and life is very different. My kids are now 12 and 15, and her daughter is about to start her senior year of high school. Her widower and daughter still live in the Seattle area and we still live in the same house in Round Rock. I am now 43, 6 years older than she was when she passed. She would be turning 46 next month. I've now run 12 marathons and am training for 2 more.

The part that really blows my mind is how old our kids are now. I can't wrap my head around the fact that my daughter only has one memory of Aunt Trisha. We had just seen her two weeks prior while in California and my daughter remembers vividly the time she spent with her. But she's 12 now and so many years and so many changes have happened in that time, so many things that I couldn't talk to Trisha about.

Her daughter was going into 4th grade when she lost her mother and now she's one year from starting college. She went though all those years with mother figures surrounding her, but no mother who tucked her into bed each night. So many milestones and life experiences, but thankfully she could share those with her dad.

I've written many blog posts over the years about my grief. My loss doesn't define who I am, but it does guide me on how I want to live my life, on why I do some of the things that I do, on why I'm extra sensitive and introverted during certain times of year. Most of my friends and family understand this.

Ironically enough, I was becoming a bit of a grief expert back in college. Grief was a topic I spent a lot of time on, taking classes, completing my internship at Hospice, and even writing my thesis on the topic. Unknowingly, it was a precursor to more loss than most people experience in young adulthood. The next 12 years were not easy with several difficult losses. Recently, I found a copy of that thesis and decided to convert all 84 hard copy pages into a soft copy. It was a very important research project of mine and one I was quite proud to have written. Reading through the chapter on normal grief and complicated grief was even more meaningful now, 20 years after I wrote it. It made me realize two things: (1) I made it through the normal grief cycle long ago, and (2) it's okay to have grief relapses.

I see the bickering around me in the world, in my community, and among my friends and family and I want to shake them. I want them to stop and to appreciate what is around them. I want them to appreciate who is in their lives. "What if they are gone tomorrow?" I want to say. They always think there is a tomorrow. But we know better, don't we? Stubbornness, narrow-mindedness, anger...these things can be toxic and unfortunately for many, by the time you clear your head of the negativity, it's too late. I'm incredibly sad about this.

*unfinished*

Fast forward to today, August 4:

After I began this blog post earlier this week, a friend died. It was not an unexpected death, but are those really any easier to take? He was only 30 and had been married for six months.

I'm angry. I'm so tired of this. I'm so tired of the suffering and the loss that people are experiencing. the sadness has been all encompassing since I found out on Wednesday. The celebration of life is tomorrow, on the 8th anniversary of my sister's passing. Of course I will be there, but my heart feels like it's in a vice grip. It hurts.

Go give someone a hug, buy a coffee for a friend, pick up the phone and text or call a loved one, smile at a stranger. My late friend wrote on his Facebook page "Just trying to let my light shine as brightly as I can."

Be a light.

If I could call you

I loved talking to you on the phone. I loved your voice. Your giggle. Your sarcastic tone.

I loved all the stupid and silly names you used to call me. I think my favorite was "freak." You never spoke it with malice. I could picture your head shake to go with it. And "seester." That was a great one, especially when you'd sign my birthday cards with it.

My memories are growing fainter over time. It's a bit harder to conjure up that voice. That laugh. The laugh that used to make you turn purple.

During the dark times over the last few years, and there have been so very many, I have so badly wanted to call you. I have wanted to ask your opinion, seek your advice. You always listened. You never judged. I was never afraid to tell you all my feelings.

Being parents of girls was something we shared. But we never really got a chance to support each other in all the challenging times that come with pre-teen and teenage parenting. You were gone too soon for that. It makes me feel cheated, because you would have been the perfect voice of reason when I felt so down on myself, when I just didn't know what else to do to help my daughter. You would have talked me down from the ledge. You would have been my sanity.

I'd like to think I would have been the same to you.

But we never got that chance, did we?

There were so many times when we were there for each other, however, when we told each other things that we just couldn't say to anyone else. I hold those memories close and dear. The words that were spoken will stay with me, our "secrets" safe. A sisterly bond that will never break.

Every year, during this week, I go through all the emotions of the grief cycle over and over again. Except denial. It was the first emotion I experienced when I heard the news and it was a tough one to shake. But I understand reality now. There's no denying the past seven years. But the anger, the bitterness, and depression...those come and go. I wish I could say that it has gotten easier. I suppose in some ways it has. But there are the days when it is all encompassing, when it's all I can think about. There are days when I can't go thirty minutes without fresh tears sliding down my cheeks. I try to hold them back, but it's impossible. Today is one of those days.

Imagine if I could just call you.

I see the bickering around me in the world, in my community, and among my friends and I want to shake them. I want them to stop and to appreciate what is around them. I want them to appreciate who is in their lives. "What if they are gone tomorrow?" I want to say. They always think there is a tomorrow. But we know better, don't we?

I can think of little else than how much I miss you. There is absolutely no one who can take your place, who can truly comfort me. My heart is absolutely broken. Parts of it have been stitched back together, but it's a tenuous repair. The stitches are strained, some have burst and need to be repaired. I always hope each repair will hold up a bit better than the previous.

Today the stitches burst. I will try to repair them tomorrow.

But for today, I mourn.

Adulting is Hard

Back when I was a little girl I used to fantasize about what being an adult would mean, how much fun it would be, how I'd have such a great little family, and I just couldn't wait to be grown up.

Oh, man.

Can I go back to being six years old, please, living in our adorable home in California, with my awesome parents and sister and our cocker spaniel, George?

Shit.

I feel like all I do is complain right now. About everything. I'm sure it's annoying as hell to some people, but it's where I'm at right now. I'm sure some people don't understand what I could possibly be complaining about. Well....trust me, there's plenty. My last blog post was fairly positive and it was only eight days ago.....it's amazing what can happen in eight days.

Picture this....you take a stack of little blocks and put one on top of the other until it grows very tall. Eventually, those blocks will tip over and crash. Now imagine each of those little blocks represents a minor problem. Stack up a bunch of minor problems and then they grow into one big tall tower, until it gets to be too much and everything just crashes.

I think my tower of blocks crashed on Sunday.

However, some of my blocks aren't so little.

Over the course of the last couple years, my little problems stacked up. In the last couple months, they've been stacking up at a rapid rate. Maybe any of one of them examined separately doesn't seem like such a big deal, but like I said....they aren't separate at all.

Everything keeps breaking. If you are a homeowner you understand that shit gets expensive. Replacing a dishwasher, a microwave, a garage door, and an A/C unit, A DAMN CAR, and repairing plumbing leaks might not seem so bad IF IT WAS JUST ONE OR TWO of those. But throw them all in, and then some, in less than a year and holy freaking cow.

My health had gone downhill. Now, mind you, none of it is a huge problem. After all, I don't have cancer or any other life threatening illnesses, as do some of my friends. But any kind of health problem can be alarming and overwhelming regardless of severity.

I became injured. Not such a big deal to those who don't have a regular exercise routine. But it is a big deal for a woman who is trying to defeat a terrible family history and who uses exercise as a coping strategy for depression and anxiety.

This is a great representation of how dejected I feel about my fitness. My climb out of injury has been torturous.

Speaking of mental illness, I had to stop taking my usual medication. The withdrawal was excruciating for over two weeks.

I have to seek treatment for another medical condition, and although I did get good news about it last week, there is still a small chance of surgery in my very near future. In the meantime, I have to take yet another medication.

(Also, don't get me started on my medical insurance and the hassles I have had to deal with this year just to get an MRI and my prescriptions filled. Ain't nobody got time for that.)

My dog died. I suppose this one is a big block. She was thirteen years old and it was not expected that we would be putting her down.

Now the blocks are going to get even bigger....

My kids. Oh, my kids.

I have one son who has ADHD, and while we have been able to control much of his symptoms, he still has his moments of forgetfulness and insensitivity that can be directly related to how his brain is wired. I get phone calls and emails from school that break my heart. Thankfully, he is developing maturity pretty rapidly and he and I can have some really wonderful conversations that I cherish.

As for my daughter, I will say this is my biggest block and the reason that the whole tower came tumbling down. I will not go into a lot of detail, because frankly, the details need to remain private. But imagine your child's typical outburst. Now multiply it by ten. Now imagine half your life in the bubble of that outburst. But let me be very clear...

It is not because she is a pre-teen.

It is not because of school.

It is not because "this is just how kids are."

She needs professional help to deal with how her brain is working. It will not go away on it's own. She will not necessarily "outgrow it."

Seeking that help and letting the gravity of it sink in is how I came to my feelings on Sunday. Perhaps I hit rock bottom. It's pretty ugly to feel that despondent. I wouldn't wish it on anyone.

So what have I done to lessen the stress?

I have exactly ONE commitment right now. ONE. I let everything else go. I literally have no room in my mind for more than one commitment. It means I have disappointed people, I'm sure, but I had to put myself and my family first. Simple as that. Take it or leave it. Hopefully most of my friends understand.

I unfortunately have lashed out here and there. I don't have the ability to control a lot of my emotions right now. I cry all the time. I get easily frustrated. I just have no patience. The bear can't handle being poked right now. At all.

I do not want to continue feeling this way. Writing it out like this has helped, and I'll continue to use this as an outlet for my feelings. Blogs don't talk back. Blogs don't have advice. I don't need any of that. I just need to process my feelings and move forward one step at a time.

One thing I do take from all of this. Just because someone's problems don't seem all that big, they ARE big to them. You don't know what else they are dealing with. If you're feeling down about something, stop telling yourself "well, at least I don't have a REAL problem."

YOUR PROBLEMS ARE REAL TO YOU.

The love of a dog

On November 15, 2002, a wonderful ball of love and joy came into our lives and we named her Phoebe.

She stole my heart from Day 1.

My children have never known a life without her. My son was only 9 months old when we got her, and my daughter wasn't born until 2005. She's been our constant and our light through all our sad times.

We lost her on December 10, 2015 at age 13.

She had been in poor health for quite awhile. She has had cancer, infections, stomach issues, and her arthritis had been getting much worse this year. On Wednesday, December 9, she could no longer get up off her back legs. She was crying as she tried. Even with a double dose of pain meds she was still unable to really move. So we made the call.

On Thursday afternoon at 3pm, I said goodbye to her.

Watching the life leave my darling dog was absolutely excruciating. My face was the last thing she saw before the sedatives put her to sleep. I didn't take my hands off of her while she fell asleep. I wanted her to feel the love and warmth until the very end. When the vet said she was gone, it felt like my heart had stopped, too.

I got a few more moments alone with her before I had to leave her. I kissed her ears (oh, how I always loved her soft ears) and her sweet face (those wrinkles!), I buried my face into her fur, and I put the blanket around her.

The next morning the weight of her absence was heavy. I have gotten so used to her sweet face being the first thing I saw every morning and I felt empty. Those soulful eyes and those sweet doggie sighs....no more.

She was the most perfect dog and there will never be another one like her.

Thanks for the love and the memories, my sweet Phoebe.

When something is missing

August is a tough month emotionally for me, every single year. My sister passed away August 5, 2009, and with that milestone date I tend to be a bundle of crazy emotions. It's hard to shake the memories and the grief. With so many other stressors right now, this month has been particularly difficult for me.

I came across this note I posted on Facebook on August 28, 2009:

"I've gotten many emails from my friends and those who knew my sister and each and every one is so meaningful to me. This one stood out to me, however, and I just had to share it. I made the mistake of reading it 15 minutes before I had to leave the house! :)

To Jim, Jocelyn, Richard, Karen, Stephanie and Mark,

In January 2001, I had one of those once in a lifetime moments. I met and hired Trisha Masen to work with at Ballard Spahr Andrews and Ingersoll. Five minutes into the interview, I knew we had a keeper. Sometimes you just know that you have been given a gift.

Trisha was so talented she could have run any IT department at any firm, but like so many of us, she wanted to work and be a Mom. And what a great Mom she was. There were pictures of Jocelyn and Jim everywhere. She used to talk about what a patient, great father Jim was...and gush about Jocelyn all the time...

I loved hearing her house hunting stories. When she ended up buying her house in Aldan, I couldn't wait to drive by and see it, as I had grown up in the town next door, Lansdowne.

Trisha and I had alot in common and we used to share some great conversations...She shared her March 2000 Mommies Favorite Recipes, "with a pinch of advice and a dash of wisdom with me" - and I pulled it out just now, to start reading it again at bedtime...When I had miscarriage after miscarriage, Trisha and I shared some teary eyed moments and then a great laugh when I finally had my red haired daughter, Hailey.

I always think of Trisha with a smile. She had a heart of a giant and was one of the most giving people I every worked with at Ballard. The firm was lucky to have her and I was luckier to know her."

The "On this day" feature on Facebook probably hasn't helped my emotional state this month, as so many buried memories are cropping back up and bringing those difficult moments from the past back to the present.

I miss my sister. I miss her wisdom. I miss her heart. I miss her being a phone call away. She was so wicked smart and such a great sounding board. She knew me and my quirks better than anyone, and even when we disagreed (which was often!) she loved me fiercely and only wanted me to be happy.

I could use that wisdom right now. Or even just her ear. I know I have so many wonderful people around me that support me, but there's just something about a sister that is so irreplaceable.

I was pretty much knocked to my knees in grief over reading this again. Yet another reminder that grief is a lifelong process.

You will never be forgotten, my darling sister.

What's wrong with my faith?

I'm going to admit to something really big. Something hard to admit. Something I have had a difficult time understanding.

I've lost some of my faith. By faith, I mean my Christian faith.

I've been Christian since I was young. In the last ten years, my husband and I have made our faith a much bigger priority in our lives. We introduced our toddler to church while I was expecting our second child and have been consistent church-goers since.

However, at least for me, something changed in the last few years. I was a strong Christian before I lost my sister. I can now safely say that while I am still Christian, it's not the center of my universe. I had an epiphany the other day on why this has happened.

If I am to believe everything in the bible, then I know for a fact that I will not see my sister in heaven. As far as I know, she was not a believer. If she was not a believer, then she is not in heaven. On the day she died, my pastor tried to reassure me that I may not know for sure the level of my sister's faith at her death and that perhaps our God is a more merciful God than we will ever know. It brought me comfort at the time and I've clung to that hope.

But in the 4 1/2 years since I lost Trisha, I have slowly felt my faith slip away. I have gone through anxiety and depression, a lot of anger, I went through counseling, I struggled to find more meaning in my life, I have prayed to exhaustion. But still, no matter how much I turned to God, I felt my faith diminishing.

I am really struggling with the concept that I will never see my sister again, here on Earth or in Heaven. I miss her with every ounce of my being. She was an incredible sister, and is sometimes the only person I want to talk to on my darkest days.

But my faith offers me NO comfort in those moments. If I don't have the promise of an eternal life with her, then how is God supposed to comfort me in my deepest moments of grief? Do I want to continue to believe in God when it is offering me little comfort to get through the worst thing I have ever experienced?

I want to regain my faith, believe me I do. I continue to sporadically attend church and when I am there I am engaged. My husband is one of the strongest Christians I know. I live in a faith-centered community. But I also want to have hope. I want to see my sister again.

Am I Unlucky?

I'm going to venture away from my usual posts about fitness and running and delve into something more emotional and personal. So bear with me.

On April 29, 2003, my husband and I lost a very good friend of ours. His name was Dan. He was 30 years old, had been married less than one year, and had an aggressive and deadly form of cancer called Ewing's Sarcoma. Diagnosed at age 28, he lived for less than 2 more years. We struggled with him as he would get good news, and then bad news, as he hurriedly married his sweetheart for fear he would die before they had a chance to be husband and wife, and then we got the phone call from him that he would probably die within the week. We prayed, we cried, we yelled about the unfairness of it all. We traveled to his hospital in Southern California (we lived in Northern California at the time), hoping we'd make it in time to give him one last hug. We did, and it was incredibly difficult to leave his hospital room knowing we'd never see him again.

Dan on his wedding day -May 3, 2002

I think about him all the time. I miss his goofy laugh and his funny stories. I miss his bear hugs (he was 6 foot 5). I miss his friendship and his beautiful heart. I miss being pissed off at him when he drank too much and turned into a teenager again. There aren't a lot of people that come into your life who you know will be there into old age, and when those people are taken so soon it's gut wrenching.

But he's not the only person I've lost in my life. As I look back, it seems like every year, or close to it, someone who I love dies. Sometimes it's expected and a part of the circle of life, like when my grandparents passed away, but sometimes it's sudden and painful and the worst thing in the world, like when my sister suddenly died.

And in all honesty, I think I've had more than my fair share of loss. In my life, I lost a childhood friend at age 6 (to cancer, and I remember it VIVIDLY), a high school friend our senior year (car accident), 3 grandparents (my other grandparent died before I was born), my great grandma, my friend Dan, several uncles, neighbors, and Greg has lost 2 of his grandparents and a teenage cousin since I met him. Our neighborhood has suffered terrible loss as well, with 2 children and young mom dying in recent years. Like I said, we can't go much longer than a year without another loss happening.

I'm just SAD.

Is this more than the normal person? I'm only 39 years old. There will be a lot more loss in the coming years. I'm probably crazy for dwelling on it, but on a day like today it's very difficult to get out of that rut.

Tragedy

I wrote the first part on Tuesday, July 31 while driving through California on our road trip back home:

I got on my computer with the intent of writing my race report for the San Francisco Half Marathon, but I’m distracted by the real things that matter in life right now.

Yesterday there was a terrible accident in Bastrop County, and although I was in California at the time I read the Austin news on Facebook and Twitter so I was aware of the accident pretty quickly. Something about it made me incredibly uncomfortable, and when the reports came in that two children were killed, it made my heart sink. 

I had no idea those who died were part of a good friend’s family until last night. My friend lost her younger sister, two young nephews, and an unborn niece or nephew. Just like that, a man is left without his entire family, just when he was preparing to become a family of 5.

I can imagine the pain of losing a sister – the third anniversary of Trisha’s death is in a mere 5 days – but losing babies, too? The heartache is truly unimaginable. All I want to do is wrap that family in my arms and I am 3 states away.

When I got up this morning and hit the shower, I lost it and the tears would not stop coming. That family is experiencing a loss most of us could never ever imagine. And they are such incredible people.

I’m angry. It’s unfair. It HURTS. The thought of what the suddenly childless widower must be feeling is overwhelming to me. I truly can’t imagine such an enormous loss. My heart hurts so very much.

Please say prayers.

This part was started last night and finished today, August 2-3:

As my family and were driving through Arizona yesterday morning, I had a huge urge to try to make it to the funeral, which was set for 11am today. The problem was that I was still nearly 1000 miles away...a very long drive with two children when you are only expecting to drive 650 miles.

I think fate intervened and made the decision out on a stretch of I-40...it was closed due to a big rig fire 4 miles ahead. We were stuck, for possibly hours. The irony of it being a fiery accident did not escape me. Greg and I quickly realized that if we were stuck out on I-40 for much longer we weren't making it to Lubbock and our booked hotel room before it got late. By the time we would get there, the kids would already be asleep and it would be incredibly disruptive to move them and all our stuff into a hotel room for a few hours rest. It suddenly became clear...we needed to keep driving, and I was going to attend that funeral.

Now, hours later, with a million thoughts in my mind, I sit feeling numb, sad, emotional, and heartbroken. Not for myself, since I did not ever meet Liz or the boys, but for the family and for the widower left behind. I buried my sister 3 years ago this month....but today's funeral was the most gut wrenching experience of my life. 

The Dowdy and Herro families are exceptional. Liz was married to Sam, who is brothers with Dan, who is married to Lauren, Liz's sister...did you catch that? Sisters married to brothers. One amazing family connected to another amazing family. I'm friends with Lauren and Dan, have spent countless hours with them as a runner and as a friend. They are two of my very favorite people in the world. Through Lauren's photographs, I was able to get a view into Liz and her spirit. She was always someone I wanted to meet and I know had I had the opportunity to spend time with her and the boys, I would love them. Lauren's photographs are just breathtaking.

Liz's dad, Jeff, spoke first. He spoke not of grief but of miracles. Julie, Liz's mom, spoke as well. She gave us a window into who Liz was. There were countless photos to beautiful music, comforting words from the pastor, and a beautiful speech and song by Liz's father-in-law, Sam Sr. We sang worship songs and watched in heartache as the caskets left the sanctuary. The service was almost 3 hours long and words can't really describe the true beauty of the celebration of 4 lives. I'm not even going to try to describe it. If you were there, you know. 

I woke up this morning so profoundly sad. The tears come easily. It amazes me that although I never knew Liz or the boys, I can feel this level of grief. Perhaps it's because it hits close to home, perhaps it's part of who I am to be that sensitive, I don't know.

I have walked away from that experience a different person. The family's words on who Liz was and how we should all be echo in my head. She and Sam were the best of the best when it comes to being parents, the best of the best when it comes to being committed and we should all learn from their example. They have shown mercy, compassion, and unbelievable love. LOVE was a common theme during the service. Sometimes life is as simple as that....just LOVE. 

Reflections

I know this blog is mostly about my fitness journey, but today...right now...it seems right to talk about my sister.

Many of you know I lost my sister nearly 3 years ago. August 5 is the anniversary of her death, and as it approaches I find myself thinking about her more and more. These milestone dates are not really getting easier...every year since her death I have struggled through July to September. July 18, 2009 was the last day I saw her, August 4 the last day I spoke with her, August 5 was the day she died, August 11 was the day we buried her, and September 4 is her birthday.

This morning in my Twitter feed was a link to this article - "Do You Have Any Siblings?" and it got me thinking a little. I get asked this question all the time by people I have just met or are getting to know. I usually have no problem saying I have both a brother in California and a sister who passed away. But it does feel awkward. If they ask I usually tell them how she died, and I have a hard time gauging if they are uncomfortable with the conversation. If they're asking they do want to know, right? There have been times when I haven't mentioned her, and other times I don't mention that she's gone. It's a tricky thing to judge split second how you should respond to that question. But above all, no matter what my answer is, I'm so proud and so blessed to have had her in my life for 35 years.

So how am I doing with my grief journey? I think I'm doing okay. I was in therapy earlier this year and my therapist helped me to let go of a lot of the guilt I feel for not being able to "save" her. But I have my moments, and I always will. There is no neat and tidy way to grieve.

I still have moments where I go to grab my phone to call her to ask her opinion about something or to tell her something funny about my kids. I have random thoughts about how proud she'd be of the things my kids are doing and I wish in vain that I could turn back time to when she was here. It's hard for me to fathom that at the time of her death I'd run only 1 marathon (I have 6 under my belt now). I want to tell her about all the things I'm planning on doing....and it hurts that I can't. Sometimes she's the ONLY person I want to share things with.

A heartache that won't stop hurting? Damn right it is.

Limitations? Screw the limitations

We all have a responsibility to ourselves and to our loved ones to do whatever we can to take care of ourselves...our minds, our bodies, our souls, our overall well-being. So why are there so many limiting factors to accomplishing that? Why don't we make ourselves a priority more often than we do? Why is society slowly killing itself through unhealthy lifestyle choices?

WHY DO WE ACCEPT THIS AS BEING OKAY?


How do we change this?

When I became a runner, it started a slow transformation to putting general fitness first. I had always been conscious of my weight and health, but wasn't a totally consistent exerciser. When I signed up for my first race, a half marathon, it forced me to schedule my workouts and make training a priority.  It's been over 4 years since I did that. As I look back at these past few years I can see the transformation unfold and it makes me very happy.

I'm not perfect. I splurge on cheeseburgers. I like chocolate. I sometimes prefer my fish to be fried. I drank Coke at dinner last night. One thing that doesn't change? Exercise. I never take a real break from it. In over 4 years the longest I've ever gone without running is 15 days and that was only because I was very sick. I was more angry about not being able to work out than about being sick. It had become so ingrained in me that exercising was a necessity that my body physically craved it and was going through withdrawals without it. Just like our bodies need food, they NEED exercise.

The nutrition aspects of my fitter lifestyle have taken a bit more time. I've always tried to be balanced in my choices and I've never been an overeater, but there are a few things here and there that I've slowly improved over the years. I add in new things when I can, try out new recipes, eat fresh ingredients more often, have almost entirely cut out fast food (it actually completely grosses me out 99% of the time now), and turn to water 95% of the time for fluids. Surprisingly, it really hasn't been a particularly difficult thing to do. Since I'm an endurance athlete I have to pay attention to how I'm fueling. I'm forced to make better choices so I can perform as well as possible in training. This just naturally spills over into my general food choices throughout the week and not just when I'm fueling for a particular run.

The past few days I've been thinking a lot about how society in general views fitness. We all know how important it is - that is being rammed into our heads more and more - but unfortunately very few people put forth enough effort to actually BE FIT. We have cars for transportation, we have fast food restaurants with easy drive-thrus, we can pick up the phone and get greasy delivery, we work over 40 exhausting hours a week, we overschedule our children and therefore ourselves, and we do all this without thinking twice about how a good workout is going to fit into it. The result?

AMERICA IS FAT AND UNHEALTHY. Yeah, I said it. Look around. It's true. And it makes me so very, very sad because it doesn't have to be that way for ANYONE. Do you ever watch Jay Leno and hear him say "this is why America is fat" during his monologue? He hits the nail on the head every time.

I don't care if you're 65 years old, if you have arthritis, if you think you "can't run", if you don't know how to cook, if you work too much, or if you have 6 children. YOU STILL MUST MAKE TIME TO BE FIT. No excuse is acceptable to me. I don't expect you to be 120 pounds and rail thin, but YOU STILL MUST TAKE CARE OF YOUR HEALTH.

Yes, it's easier for me to make time than a lot of other people. I don't work outside the home, I "only" have 2 children, I have the resources available to me to make it a priority, and I have a supportive family. But I still have to DO THE WORK. I can still easily give in to exhaustion, laziness, or depression and decide not to do that 4 mile run.

BUT I DON'T.

One thing that frustrates me beyond measure and forces me to sometimes bite my tongue is when I hear friends (of all ages, but particularly middle aged or older, or those who have had children) laugh off their lack of fitness or their overweight reality as not a big deal...because they aren't young anymore it's expected that they would become out of shape or become overweight. When did becoming overweight as we age or have children become acceptable? I don't get that mentality at all. We should never accept a lack of fitness or an overweight body to become the expected reality for us just because we're AGING. Who cares if we're aging?

I'm nearly 38 years old and although I do miss my flatter stomach of 20 years ago I can still run laps around my 18 year old self BECAUSE I CHOOSE TO MAKE THAT MY NEW REALITY. Age is completely irrelevant to me. I do not expect to get slower as I age...I'm making myself get faster. I do not expect to run fewer marathons as I age. I'm signing up for MORE.

I hear friends talk about their medications and it makes me sad that they do not have any idea that if they just started a fitness routine and tweaked their diet the vast majority of their health problems would be gone. GONE. It took me only a few months to take 35 points off my cholesterol...because I bought a pair of running shoes and used them. My mom lost 50 pounds, reduced her meds signficantly and her fitness level is a complete 180 from where she was 2 years ago...because she joined a gym and did the work and continues to make that a priority. She's 65 years old and is in better shape than when she was 35. My 52 year-old brother-in-law has done something very similar and is a totally different man than 2 years ago, while passing on these important healthy habits to my 11 year old niece. And he does this as a single parent. My friend Tricia, who blogs at Endurance Isn't Only Physical, is another perfect example of someone who said NO MORE and changed her life, losing 128 pounds in a year....and she runs marathons! There is a 72 year old man in my running group who has run 60 marathons. He ran his first one when he was 58 YEARS OLD.

A friend of mine, Gene from the blog Accountability, posted this yesterday and told him I had to steal it. Forgive the F-bombs, but it gets my point across perfectly.

So don't tell me you can't. Don't tell me you don't have time. Don't tell me you're too old. Don't tell me you have too many health problems. Don't tell me you're too tired. I don't want to hear it.

As many of you know, I lost my 37 year old sister over 2 years ago. She was morbidly obese and was taking over a dozen different medications because of various ailments such as diabetes, high blood pressure, lupus, etc. The majority of her health problems would probably have ceased to exist had she adopted a healthier lifestyle. To say that I feel an incredible amount of guilt for failing in motivating her to change her habits is a huge understatement. I had so many opportunities to help her, but I didn't. I had opportunities to talk to her, to do research for her, to be a better supporter, but I didn't. Would it have saved her? I don't know...no one knows...but I'll never know for sure. Maybe it could have. Yes, I have a lot of guilt which fuels my anger and frustration at others for letting themselves become unhealthy.

I don't want to lose anyone else to preventable health problems. EVER.


So next time you catch yourself saying "I've just been so busy so I've put on 20 pounds," or "The last thing I want to do at night is exercise", or "My kids keep me so busy"....JUST STOP. Stop sabotaging yourself. 


Schedule your workouts.


Research healthy recipes.


Buy fresh ingredients.


Stop eating fast food.


PUSH YOUR LIMITS.

YOU ARE STRONGER THAN YOU THINK. AND YOU ARE WORTH THE EFFORT.

Change of Plans

Irony seems to be a really big part of my life lately. It's teaching me to just go with the flow and not sweat the small stuff. God has quite the sense of humor.

Saturday was supposed to be my 5th half marathon, the See Jane Run Austin Half Marathon. Notice I say "supposed to" be my 5th.

I had a great time checking out the race expo on Saturday. See Jane Run had some good vendors and very cute stuff to purchase. I was getting excited!

For the 10 days prior to the race the weather forecast called for rain, alternating between a 30% chance and a 60% chance. For Texas, that usually means it's definitely going to rain, but this year has been notorious regarding rain. We pretty much haven't had any in a year, certainly not any amount to get excited about. A little rain on race day would probably be welcome. But in reality, we knew the forecast would likely chance, just like every rain forecast in the past several months. Surprisingly, however, the chances were holding strong.

As I went to bed the night before the race, I checked one last time what the hourly forecast was going to be - about 70 degrees and 50% chance of thunderstorms. Could be interesting.

When I awoke race morning, this is what the forecast showed me:

Holy rainstorm, Batman. That did NOT look like fun. And it was heading right for us...pretty much any second. No rain for months, then BAM! Let's give it to Austin all at once ON RACE DAY. If we didn't need this damn rain so much I would have been angry.

My friend Heather headed down to the race site with me and it rained the entire time we were driving. Actually, "rain" doesn't really do justice to the experience we had heading the 20 miles or so to the venue. It was more like God dumped every drop of water from every single ocean directly onto my car so I couldn't see anything, much less the highway in front of me. Driving 40 miles an hour was too fast. It was absolutely insane and I'm pretty sure I've never driven in anything quite like that before. Add to it the massive lightning every few seconds and you've got yourself a mother of a storm. At this point it was past 5:30am, with a race start of 7am.  I figured we'd make it down to the race site, see what the plan was, and hope the storm passed. I knew the race officials would make the right decision and cancel if it was just too dangerous.

As we navigated off the freeway to the start, I noticed the flooded streets...the streets we would be running on. Well, that's not so good.

I'm so glad Heather was with me because it was incredibly confusing to try to find where we were supposed to park....I come to find out that the street leading to the parking area was actually being blocked off my Austin PD on purpose because of the flooding I presume. We found a spot on the street to park and then discovered that they were in fact cancelling the race.

I'm totally not surprised. It simply was not safe for us to run. Between the lightning and the flooding of the venue, there was just no way to even postpone it. A bit of a disappointment, sure, but it is what it is. We REALLY needed the rain and I was just so thrilled that we were getting some. I honestly think it was way more important for us to get rain that for me to run a race.

Heather and I headed back home and the wheels were immediately spinning on how I was going to make up for missing the race. I could go to the gym. I could see if the rain passed enough at home to still get a good run in. I could push my run to Monday. Lots of options. There was no reason NOT to run at some point.

As a side note, I do have to bring up the cancellation and the fall out See Jane Run received from their decision. First and foremost, although I have never been a race director, I do understand the implications of tough decisions. My husband has directed a race before, and I understand the logistics involved are way more intense than those not involved could possibly fathom. It's common sense to realize that putting a race on is absolutely intense. That being said, having to cancel a race like this, with over 1500 runners, would be an agonizing decision. I never once believed that the See Jane Run organizers made a hasty, inaccurate, dumb decision. Never once. If they believed it needed to be cancelled, then I trusted them.

I went onto the See Jane Run Facebook page yesterday to follow up and see more details on the cancellation and the champagne/chocolate banquet they very quickly put together at the host hotel (since they couldn't provide that post race). I was immediately horrified at the nastiness they were enduring from runners pissed off about cancellation. These people were spewing such ridiculous things it made me cringe. First of all, races are NEVER refundable, as we are required to agree to accept when we sign up for a race (trust me, it's very clearly spelled out for all races). But people were assuming that they could get refunded and were completely pissed to find out that wasn't the case. They assumed See Jane Run had all this money leftover that they could just give it all back to us. Ridiculous thought since nearly all race money is spent long before the event. You can't refund money that doesn't exist, which is why a no-refund policy is the standard. SJR immediately offered a discount to all of us for any of their U.S. races next year, not just Austin - to me this was more than fair and a very nice gesture on their part. We still had our shirts (which were awesome, by the way) and those of us who chose to attend the brunch received champagne, a glass, and chocolate. (I did not attend, but that's okay). Additionally, so many people were questioning their judgement. SJR deferred to the expertise of the directors, the APD, EMS, and just basic common sense when they made the decision. They waited as long as possible, hoping they could just postpone, but the flooding made that impossible. The heavy downpour didn't happen until after 5am and even then it was far heavier than anticipated. SJR explained until they were blue in the face all of the rationale involved in their decision...it was crazy how many times they repeated themselves with a completely logical explanation, but people simply refused to get beyond their anger. Lastly, people demanded a reschedule, clearly not understanding that it's a huge process to even put a race on in the first place. To reschedule would require months of planning and more money. Again, I think the discount for next year is a very fair alternative.

It basically comes down to  runner safety above and beyond anything else. Why people can't understand that just blows my mind. How they can be so rude and disrespectful disgusts me. These race officials were busting their butts while 3 inches of rain poured on them, they had to be wary of lightning cracking over their heads, and had to try to answer questions from those who did show up for the race, all the while trying to keep social media and email updates going out. I can't imagine the incredible stress they were under. But clearly all this just isn't good enough for some people. It's revolting how nasty human nature can be. I just have to shake my head.

Needless to say, I've commented on a lot of posts on the SJR Facebook page...so much apparently that one user asked if I worked for them. No, buddy, I'm just not a jackass and can see common sense when it stares me in the face.

Okay, now that I've gotten that all out....

I decided that I would run my own solo half marathon through my neighborhood Monday morning. I mentioned this to the kids and Greg and they thought this was a good idea. My kids even made me medals out of cardstock that they would give me when I was done. Brady had the idea to even make some signs that said "1 more mile" to wave at me at my 12 mile mark. This wasn't looking so bad after all!  I named this attempt the Stephie Solo Half Marathon - 10/10/11.  Game on!

As I went to bed last night I realized that 10/10/11 would have been my sister's 13th wedding anniversary. 13 miles for 13 years? Sounds like a plan.

"Race" morning arrived and it was a decent 66 degrees outside...with 98% humidity. Wow, really? 98%...fun. I started off conservative and didn't pick up my pace too much, knowing the humidity would suck the life out of my lungs if I did. I didn't need to race this, but just wanted something decent. I thought about all the years of my sister's marriage...one year for every mile I was completing. It was a peaceful run. Unfortunately, I started to feel that stupid tendinitis again at about an hour into the run. But it wasn't just tightness, it was actual pain. For about the next mile I contemplated my options. I could stop and just bag it and save my ankle, I could push through and risk injury, I could walk and finish the distance. I decided that I would head home to retrieve my stashed hydration, take a walk break, and see how I felt. I hit my house at about 7.3 miles and continued on by walking. I knew that not finishing all 13.1 miles just wasn't a viable option. I wanted those medals!

I walked for about 2.2 miles and since my ankle was no longer hurting I decided to run again. To be conservative, I stopped again at 11 miles (letting Greg know where I was so they could meet me at 12), walked about a half mile more, then picked it up to the meeting spot. Seeing my kids and husband was just awesome.

A little more walking, a strong finish, and I was done with 13.1 miles. It wasn't exactly pretty, but I had no choice but to play it smart. I estimate my running pace averaged about a 9:40 pace, definitely slower than normal for me. Adding in the 2.9 miles of walking and I ended up at 2:23. I figure a full running half would have netted me a 2:08 time, respectable considering the 98% humidity and solo effort.

The absolute best part about the whole thing, however, was that I earned two very special medals. I'm pretty sure these will be my favorite medals of all time.

Stephie Solo Half Marathon Finisher - 10/10/11 - 2:23:37

An update, stream of consciousness, and what's coming up

I'm really trying to figure out this whole blogging thing.  I'm terrible about keeping it regular, I'm terrible about keeping up with my favorite blogs, I'm terrible about commenting on those blogs, I'm terrible about putting time aside to dedicate to all of the above.

But I still love this. Blogging is pretty great.

An update on me...

Last time I left you with crappy negative thoughts and a new injury.  I'm trying to ignore the crappy people that give me crappy thoughts, and I'm doing okay with that. I saw my buddy the podiatrist (Dr. Scott Pattison) and he was really nice to me even after I completely forgot about my first appointment. He didn't even give me a shot or anything as punishment. He didn't even tell me to really rest much! My Achilles tendinitis is minor at this point but does need some TLC. Icing and this nifty anti-inflammatory cream that I rub on my ankle 4 times per day. And stretching. And changing things up a bit...like cross training and not so much treadmill work.  I think I may actually survive this thing.

Stream of consciousness...

I've had all sorts of little ideas I've had for blog posts but since I suck at blogging, I'm just going to throw a bunch of random things at you instead of actually sitting down for an extended period of time and writing an entire blog post about said ideas.

1. I miss my sister. It totally sucks. This has been a terrible couple of weeks for me grief-wise. She's been gone for 2 years and 1 month and her birthday (#40) just passed. The tears are pretty regular and come at inopportune times.

2. I need to find more time to scrapbook. It used to be a passion. I need to rediscover that passion. I have so many amazing, awesome, fabulous pictures and stories to tell from the past few years.

3. I ran a 5K yesterday. I started off at PR pace (24:40 is my PR) and I think I could have at least been at 25:15 or faster. But I stopped at a little over a mile in to help a friend with asthma problems. I was worried about her and didn't feel right continuing on, so we ran it together. We finished in 28:40. I'm pretty damn impressed by her. Still a great workout for me.

4. I'm worried about these wildfires. My husband left town this morning. I don't like being here worried without him. I thought I moved to Texas. The air looks like Los Angeles and the wildfires are so California-esque. I guess I've got quite a bit of familiarity with wildfires.

5. My kids will not stop arguing with each other. They are totally making me crazy. I can't really be in the same room with both of them for more than about 30 minutes at a time.  They are just awful to each other. Please let this phase pass for at least 5 minutes. Please.

6. Did I mention I miss my sister? It sucks. I REALLY miss her. I want her back. Can't someone make that happen already?

7. I'm tired of people who think they are better than others. Everyone needs a dose of humble pie.

8. We finally have a break in our excruciating heat. I may be off by a day or two but I think Austin had 80 days of 100+ degree temperatures. I believe yesterday was the first time it didn't hit 90 since May. This morning it was 61 degrees out when I woke up.  I have seen a sub-70 degree temp in so long I forgot what it felt like. I wore a jacket this morning.

9. I've started cooking more and finding fun new recipes. I kinda like it. But I also still like take-out and being lazy. I'm not much of a cook, but at least I'm trying.

10. I had a pretty fun and bizarre (for me) workout this morning. 50 flights of stairs. Upper body workout. Core work. 1.5 miles of walking at a 2-4% incline. Then I thought it would be swell to throw in a random 1 mile run. Started it at 8 mph, pushed it up to 8.4.  Mile ended up being 7:24. Not bad a day after a race, and after all that other exercise first. I was fatigued and ran a 7:24 mile. Feels good. Well, except for the shin splints.

11. I've never run a sub-7 minute mile. Next week I am going to do that.

What's coming up for me...

Today I am going to register for another race. My awesome friend Diana lives in Washington D.C. and she's the one who got me into running back in 2007.  We're going to run the Rock n Roll USA Half Marathon on March 17 in D.C. To run in our nation's capital sounds pretty much perfect to me. I get to see things like this:

My next race is the See Jane Run Half Marathon in Austin on October 9. I'm excited and nervous. I think my ankle will hold up just fine and I think I can turn a respectable performance. We'll see if it's a PR (1:59:26) performance, but I'm not necessarily training for that. First and foremost I need to take care of my ankle. I know I've gotten faster this summer, but we'll have to see how that translates to a long distance. And the weather in October can be pretty unpredictable. I have a lot of friends running, too, so I know that no matter what it will be a great time.

Did I mention that next week I'm going to run my very first sub-7 minute mile? I'll have my sweet hubby by my side.

Houston Marathon #2!

My 2011 marathon season wasn't exactly what I was hoping for.  You can read about both my marathons here and here. The plan was to run Houston on January 30 and Austin on February 20.  My training season was okay, but definitely my toughest. Race day weather was mediocre. It just didn't turn out like I had hoped.

I told my husband afterwards that I just wasn't sure what 2012 would bring me. I didn't know if I'd want to run another marathon or just stick to half marathons and wait until 2013 for my next full.  I was pretty sure I was going to skip Houston or any other out of town race.  If anything, I'd only do the Austin Marathon. But that decision would be made after our training season began in August (I'm an assistant coach with Round Rock Fit). 

The off season has surprised me.  I ran the Texas Indepedence Relay in March and was surprised at how good I felt, and then I joined a gym in order to use the treadmill rather than always having to run in the Texas summer heat.  Whereas last summer I was suffering through every single run and really not enjoying it at all, I'm feeling very different this summer.  I feel strong and fast. I'm not having trouble getting through runs at all.  When I do run outside it's not always very pretty, but my treadmill runs are surprising me and giving me a huge boost in confidence.  I started thinking that maybe Marathon Season 2012 was not out of the question.

Three things about the Houston Marathon in 2012 that are very appealing to me: first, I have other friends who planned to run it. Second, it coincides with the 2012 Olympic Marathon Trials, being held in Houston. And third, it's on my birthday. I knew if I decided to run Houston after all that I probably wouldn't have my family trek there to watch me this time, but rather just come to watch me in Austin.  So having friends there would be a huge thing for me. I couldn't imagine starting and finishing a full marathon with zero support.  And the idea of getting to see the elite athletes tough it out for a coveted Olympic marathon spot? How could I forgo that opportunity?  Lastly, about my birthday....that's a more bittersweet reason....

I lost my older sister in 2009 at the age of 37.  I was never one for celebrating my birthday much prior to her death, but since she passed it's been the absolute last thing I've wanted to do.  I was 35 at the time of her death and the two birthdays I've had since have been extremely difficult to take. She was clearly too young to die, and as I crept up on her age it made the pain and guilt of being the "survivor" very unbearable. Birthday number 38 is on January 15, 2012, the day of the Houston Marathon, and my toughest birthday yet. My sister didn't live to see 38.  I really will need the distraction of something big and grand to keep my emotions in check.  To hit 38 years old with a bang seemed just the way to do it. I feel like it gives me a bigger purpose to my running, and makes the approaching date feel exciting rather than just dreaded.

Will it take away all the pain? Of course not. Grief doesn't disappear, but any self-therapy I can come up I'm going to take.

I was lucky enough to get selected in the Houston Marathon lottery, so it's definitely going to happen. I have several friends who got in as well, and at least a couple who plan to be in Houston for the Trials, too.  It will be the perfect way for me to officially be the "older" sister that I never was growing up. Bittersweet, yes, but maybe a little sweeter than I thought it could be.

As a bonus.....the Austin Marathon will be on February 19, which just happens to be my daughter's 7th birthday. I couldn't have planned it better myself.

What If??

I started watching The Biggest Loser on TV this season.  I had never seen it before, but knew it was a very emotional show.  I've been blessed that I have never truly had a weight problem.  I've never been overweight, I have not fluctuated much in my adult life. I've tried hard to take good care of myself, with a few stops and starts in my fitness, but overall have been pretty successful. I don't say this to brag...I know I've been lucky and am probably in the minority. My desire to maintain a healthy weight and fitness level is what keeps me running.

As you know I lost my sister Trisha in 2009 to what can probably be partially attributed to an unhealthy weight. She contracted the swine flu, but had a lot of underlying health problems, such as lupus, diabetes, asthma, and was deemed morbidly obese. She just couldn't recover from the flu and passed away suddenly overnight from pulmonary embolisms.  I had worried for years about her health - and had even had a conversation with my mom about those fears just two weeks prior....and then our worst fears were realized.

So watching this Biggest Loser episode, where the contestants get to go home for 2 weeks, is definitely emotional.  It makes me wonder how Trisha would have done on such a show, how taking control of her weight could have helped her. The changes these people are making are incredible, and to hear them talk about doing it for their families hits home big time.  My sister left behind a husband and 9 year old daughter.

My sister's husband has really taken charge of his own health in the last year.  He has lost an amazing amount of weight, and is keeping himself and their daughter on an awesome fitness/healthy eating plan.  We are all so very proud of him.  I know he's added years to his own life and has improved the quality of life for my niece. And although this makes me insanely happy....a part of me wishes this had happened 2 years ago. Would my sister be a part of it? Would it have saved her?

I can't really dwell on "what ifs" but it's so hard not to.  What if I had pushed her harder to take care of herself? It sucks to dwell, and watching this episode (and the show in general) does make it hit home harder.  I know God had a plan and I try to remember that.

Being healthy is never overrated.  Maintaining my fitness and my desire to NEVER BE unhealthy will continue to motivate me every day of my life. I know I can't control everything, but my I CAN control the amount of exercise I do and the size of my clothes. I am on ZERO medications for health problems and I want to keep it that way for as long as possible. Don't ever take your health for granted. Don't fall into the trap of allowing your age to dictate what you can or can't do. Never sit back and allow a sedentary life to take over. Never never never.

A look at the past

When I say that this was a bit of a rough training year for me, I have to believe that part of that is due to life circumstances from the last 18 months. I'm going to post my write up of the 2010 Austin Marathon to give you an idea of where my head has been. My emotions from that time period have most certainly overflowed into this year's training...and that's okay.  It's all part of my growth and learning.

On February 15, 2009, I completed my very first marathon in Austin, Texas. Although for the last 6 or 7 miles I figured I'd never want to put my body through that kind of agony again, it took only 5 minutes after I crossed the finish line for me to realize I would sign up for another one sooner rather than later. There really is something about the joy and triumph that you feel after completing that kind of journey. I truly think there's nothing quite as difficult to make your body do as a marathon (unless you're an Ironman....then you're a special kind of crazy).

I signed up for the Rock n' Roll San Antonio Marathon (November 15) not too long after this.

An overwhelming tragedy occurred during my training. My older sister, Trisha, passed away suddenly on August 5. My whole world was shattered. She was my best friend and I had just spent time with her two weeks earlier. After burying her in Seattle, I returned home and tried to resume my training. But my heart wasn't in it and I knew it would take awhile to heal. I decided to downgrade my registration for the marathon to the half marathon. I knew I could run that...I had just completed one in July and was still in pretty good shape.

Little did I know that grief would hit during mile 6 and that the weather would be anything but cooperative during that race. I frequently cried and walked to complete that half marathon and ended up posting my slowest time for that distance...I don't even think any of my training runs were ever that slow. 2:20....21 minutes slower than the previous year, which had been my personal best. I knew it was going to take some healing and praying to get my mind back on track for the Austin Marathon coming up in 3 months. I had my buddy Jeff there with me during part of that race and he ended up finishing right around the same time as me. What a joy to unexpectedly see him at the end. Waterworks unleashed yet again!

Six days later was our 20K (12.4 miles) run in our marathon training group. Jeff and I both wanted to use this to make up for our mediocre performance in San Antonio. We did great....1:58 and well under 10 minute pace. We were back in business. The rest of the training season was great for me. I felt strong, no injuries, and I was looking forward to trying to break 10 minute pace in the marathon, or at least taking a good shot at it.

My family was sick, one member after another, for the two weeks prior to the marathon. I was worried!! But I woke up marathon morning feeling pretty good. I had some nagging irritation in my throat and a little stuffiness the couple days before but figured it was allergies and ignored it. The race started off great....the weather was BEAUTIFUL! 40 degrees out, only expected to get into the upper 50s by Noon. Perfect weather ordered and delivered!

The start was slow....excruciatingly slow. My first 5K was only around 33 minutes....slow for me. But it was crowded and I think I made the mistake of starting off too far back and getting stuck behind slower runners. I picked it up for the next 9 miles or so and cut a lot of time off my overall pace. Was at about 10:10 overall pace when I hit the potty at mile 12. That slowed me down by about 10 seconds per mile overall...something I knew I could get back in the next few miles. UNTIL the throat and lung issues hit HARD at mile 14. I got the chills....my throat suddenly felt tight....and my lungs were having a few issues. It seemed my heart rate was getting up a little higher and for the first time for the entire race I felt like I needed to walk. Up until this point I really didn't have any desire to walk. I had briefly stopped to say hi to the family at mile 11 and to make my potty break but that was it. At about 15.5 miles I decided I was probably sick and walked for about a half mile. Once I got my breathing under control I got back to running, taking a walk break every 1.5-2 miles for the remainder of the race.

During these breaks I decided it was okay that I wasn't going to break my 10 minute pace. This race was for my sister. It didn't matter if the clock said 4:20 or 5:20. I was going to finish the race, earn my medal, and dedicate it to Trisha. I smiled, listened to my music, enjoyed myself while running, and chatted with folks while walking. My legs were strong...when I ran I was running well. There was no wall for me this year. There was no crying at mile 18 because of the pain. There was JOY that this was my second marathon, that my training had prepared me to complete 26.2 miles without injury, and that sometimes life throws you curveballs in the form of illness that you have no control over. You make the best of it.

At exactly 3 hours into the race my Garmin GPS watch shut off....so for the next 8+ miles I ran blind not knowing my pace or how much time had elapsed. I really had no clue how I was doing! The 4:45 pacers hadn't passed me yet so I did know that I had to be close to last year's time (4:40). I did my best but didn't overdo it. My final mile was difficult as I was definitely feeling the fatigue of the dreaded wall but I didn't let me get me too down. I made my final push around the Capitol and ran well for that last half mile.

When I saw the Mile 26 marker and all the fantastic spectators lining the Capitol grounds the tears finally came. I pumped my fist and enjoyed the last two minutes of my journey. When I finished I still had no idea how I had done but I did know that it had to have been close to last year's time. What a surprise to see when the results were posted that it was only 36 seconds slower. My final 10K was stronger, however, by several minutes, so I had improved in my eyes. I was more prepared, stronger, and happier. I felt so good when I was done....certainly not like I had just run a marathon!

So now marathon #2 is in the books. I raised $3200 for the Lupus Foundation in honor of my sister, far surpassing my goal. I wish I could call her and tell her all about it, but I know she was the one who was pushing me on during the race. She was on my shoulder, she was my strength, and she will continue to look over me from heaven as I continue my journey.

Next marathon? I'm taking a break from Austin next year and will be doing the Houston Marathon on January 30. I can't wait for my 4:20!!

I haven't gotten that 4:20...but I will.  Of course I will.