BOSTON MARATHON 2013

I wrote this a few years ago. I post it now in reverence to all those who are personally and physically impacted by the events of this day and to all runners everywhere. Don't stop moving... • As a kid, I traveled the farm roads around Rexburg in my dad's old Chevy with the windows open. I held quart jars filled with water as we measured out the miles and felt the cool summer air that smelled like raw potatoes. When the pick-up rolled to a stop, I would gently place a jar behind a fence post or a telephone pole and there it would wait to rehydrate a runner in the early morning hours when the sun showed up to feed the fields. He ran a twenty miler almost every Sunday and when he finished, we drove that route again to retrieve the containers and any extra clothing he had discarded. We knew those country roads well. We knew where the wild asparagus grew and which neighbors liked bacon for breakfast. We knew the farmers would wave at us while they were out changing water and we knew that his sweatshirt would be exactly where it was left when the temperature rose. It was consistent and unchanging and we looked forward to it each week. He was a runner. My dad taught me about racing, and about negative splits, and about famous runners. Things even other runners sometimes don't know. Before I was born, there was a runner, a woman, named Katherine Switzer who created quite a stir when she entered and completed the Boston Marathon. The race director was so appalled that this woman was "defiling" his race that he actually tried to rip her numbers off of her. At that time, people believed that if a female tried to run further than two miles her "uterus would fall out and she would bleed to death". Shockingly, this was in the late 60's and while she never intended to start an equality forum with women's running, Katherine Switzer's race that day was the beginning of huge strides forward in women's sports. It took a while though; it wasn't until the 1984 Olympics that a women's marathon was included. Joan Benoit Samuelson won that 1st hot and smoggy Olympic Marathon with a time of 2:24 after a win at Boston in 2 hours and 22 minutes. I had the pleasure of seeing both of these women last year when my husband took me to Massachusetts to participate in the 112th running of the Boston Marathon. That weekend they also held the Women's Olympic trials marathon and Joanie, as she is affectionately called by runners everywhere, participated at the age of almost 52. Katherine was promoting a book and I felt privileged to stand next to her while memories of an old Chevy and cool quart jars rushed into my head. The Boston Marathon is rich in running and American history. You have probably heard of Paul Revere and his famous midnight ride to warn us that the British were coming. "One if by land, two if by sea", right? Originally held on Patriot's Day, the race is now held on the third Monday of April, known as Marathon Monday in Massachusetts in honor of Patriot's day and Paul Revere. It's actually a state holiday and people come out in full force to watch 25,000 qualified runners follow Paul Revere's route into Boston. In order to be eligible for entrance into Boston a runner must submit a qualifying time according to your age and gender at a prior race on a course that is both certified and sanctioned by the Boston Athletic Association. It's hard work to get in and the celebration is fantastic. Do you know what 250,000 loyal and screaming Red Sox fans sound like? I ran the race that Monday in 2008 and though I was inspired by the people and the legend, what occupied my mind the most were the miles I ran to prepare for the race on the roads in Rexburg, Idaho along with the time I spent as a kid setting out water with my dad. Because of those memories, I am excited about the things I notice when I chose to lace up those running shoes. Do you know that on a late summer evenings the temperature next to the fields changes depending on what is planted in them? I do. And I know that on a clear day the Grand is going to peak over the dry farms and be visible to me. And shhh, don't tell anyone. I even know that at 5:00 a.m. while cruising in a pair of Asics, Main Street is going to smell like sausage and doughnuts. It's constistent and unchanging and I am a runner.

at one ment

in june i ran a 35 mile trail race with 8400 feet of climb. i started the race knowing i would struggle and experience indescribable pain, both emotionally and physically, but that i could walk as much as i needed to. before the race i filled my pack with the items that i felt would be necessary to help me get from start to finish. i poured ice and fluids into my bladder bag for hydration and chose lightweight, extra clothing for protection against the elevation and the elements. i filled my pack pockets with easily useable calories for fueling and i packed my red bandana for emotional support. my dad used to run with a red bandana, and since he passed on and i miss him, running with one helps me to draw on his strength when i feel overwhelmed. the race started with cool moisture in the air and a double rainbow in the southern sky. i wondered if that double rainbow was an omen of good things to come but with the dark clouds that also inhabited the sky, it was hard to say. my nerves were raw and confused as the palpable energy of all participants seemed to arm wrestle with my fear of failing this monumental undertaking. for a few miles the trail was wide and smooth with little rolling hills as i wound along a small creek bed but then, following the marked race course, i began to gain elevation as i turned southward and climbed a spring run-off drainage area that seems to have been re-inforced with boulders to protect the landscape from erosion. this section, steep and rocky, required scrambling to make progress on the trail. my quads started to burn and having only completed less than 1/4 of the distance i got a little nervous. shortly, however, as i moved from this section to the next, i left the cover of the trees and from the smooth, single track switch backs i could see how far i had really travelled and i knew i could continue. life, sometimes, gets hard that way too, doesn't it? at the crest of this hilltop, the course followed a forest service road wide enough for a vehicle. the view was spectacular and covered three sides of the landscape and as i enjoyed it, i tripped on a rock and fell to the ground knocking the wind out of my lungs. i picked my self up, sucked in some fresh mountain air, and started to move forward again. the race route turned onto a double track, four wheeler wide, and entered the shade of forest once again. the dark clouds had dissapated with the rising sun and i was relieved to feel the coolness radiating from the trees. after climbing out of a canyon and cresting another hilltop, i ran, enjoyng the easy downhill, until i reached the mink creek aid station having covered just over 16 miles into my race. after fueling and re-filling my pack, i took a deep breath and forced myself to leave the comfort of the aid station and begin the rest of my journey. i alternately jogged and hiked up the trail in the heat, eating peanut m & M's, as i fought fatigue. a friend joined me for a few miles and provided some positive energy and support. an aid station worker handed me a cup full of chicken broth and sliced potatoes that tasted like liquid gold while replenishing my body with much needed salt and fluids. i took some motrin and tylenol and hoped they would ease the growing aches i felt over the entirety of my body. i left the comfort of that camp chair and continued to move forward on my course. the trail continue upward into the elements, the landscape becoming more barren and rocky as i climbed, the heat bouncing off the rocks. i encountered small piles of snow, left over from winter, and filled my red bandana to soak my face and neck and cool my skin. i prayed and begged for help from those lost to me and inhabiting other spacial arenas. i wrapped that red bandana around my hand, wet from snow, and grasped it tightly to feel the pressure of the cotton around my palm and pretend my dad was pulling me up the mountain as i struggled both physically and mentally. my body hurt so much, but my heart hurt worse. i thought about where i had come from, my dad and my family; and i thought about where i was going and how it all would work out. i felt overwhelmed with pain, ached for all the mistakes i had made and the people i had hurt, and i pushed forward knowing i could not quit. i squeezed my fingers tighter around my red bandana and prayed for relief as i continued up the mountain. i felt a small surge of energy and a boost to my spirit. when i reached the top of scout mountain i just stopped to stare at the expanse of the universe and revive myself with thoughts of God and creation and gratitude for a healthy body and for so many happy things and the people in my life i knew i could not manage without and i made a decision to push hard to the finish. and i kept moving forward. i struggled on the descent though. it was too steep to run and every foot fall pounded my wrecked body and i thought about how even when we make right choices life can be difficult. after a few minutes though,i reached a soft single track, and coasted down the trail like i had wings and i felt free. the trail curved around the landscape and wound through the forest, descending from the harsh element-laden mountain top and back into the tree line towards more easily accessed ground. i ran over a rocky section of trail and back onto soft ground and tripped over a rock. i put my left hand down first but rolled right over it and landed on my face on a tree root growing across the ground. i stood up, wiped off my mud and blood covered face, pushed the skin hanging from the bridge of my nose back into place, and started running again. feeling completely overwhelmed, achy, and alone and knowing that i still had 7 miles to cover and i started to cry. softly at first, but then the dam broke and i sobbed for two miles, salty tears and sweat mixed with the blood dripping down my face. it tasted bitter as i tried to continue to hydrate myself against the rising heat and i felt devastated and lonely and i prayed, again, for help. when i reached the next aid station, an older man took me by the arm, spoke to me sweetly, sat me down, and gently proceeded to wash my face with fresh cold water. his wife handed me a cup of sprite, liquid silver, which rejuvenated me and i continued down the trail toward the finish.

i ran down the road for while before the course turned westward through an area that, in the winter, is a popular nordic skiing retreat. the greenery in the meadows held the heat near the ground like a suffocating fog. i walked when i had to, ran when i could, and i sucked warm fluid from my bladder bag every few minutes to push away the tingles and nausea of dehydration and heat exhaustion. finally, i reached the road with only 1/2 of a downhill mile to the finish line, homemade chili, and a soak in the cold creek. as i sat in the cold water soaking my aching body i prayed for relief from my pains, expressed my gratitude for my family and my healthy body and watched as the mud, the blood, the sweat, and the tears wash away in the current as i unwrapped that red bandana from my hand. and i remembered the view from the top of scout mountain, the expanse of the universe, and the gratitude that i felt and i realized that though i travelled that distance over the rocks and changing elevations and the varying landscapes mostly in solitude, i was never really alone.

ECLIPSE

last sunday, i layed on the driveway trying not to move. i wore two pairs of sunglasses and waited for the solar eclipse. a solar eclipse occurs when the moon travels between the earth and the sun. as the moon covers the sun, the sky grows progressively darker. the sun, however, is bigger than the moon and even when the moon is centrally located in front of the sun, there is still light and the promise that the moon will continue to travel until it no longer covers the sun. as i watched this happen in the sky, i thought about the marathon i had completed the morning prior and the lessons i needed to learn from it. my achy body melted into the concrete as i tried to remember how i found myself at that starting line. months ago, some friends and i registered and began planning for the ogden marathon. we knew that training for a spring marathon would require lots of miles while being exposed to the winter elements. we would need to outfit ourselves with the right layers in order to protect ourselves from the cold. generally, winter training pace is slowed due to icy conditions, clothing restriction, and frigid temperatures impacting blood flow and movement. it is the hope that after months of running in those temps and those layers that shedding them come race day will bring relief from the restrictions of all winter entities and allow for a faster pace. last friday, four of us covered some drive-time miles together on i-15 while sharing the current state of our individual element-impacted lives and we expressed our gratitude for the comraderie and support we have shared while bi-pedal on the roads. we also nervously bantered in regards to our worries and expectations about what we could accomplish the next day on the course. it is difficult to predict performance in any race but seemingly impossible when training has been less than ideal as well as plagued with injury, illness, and dramatic life changes. the only variable we knew for certain was that we agreed we would support individual choice in pace and finish times and there would never be pressure to run someone elses race and no matter what, we would consider the adventure for what it was...an adventure. and, of course, we were grateful to be sharing whatever misery ensued with each other. the next morning we huddled together in a field of fire barrels and nervous runners and discussed which layers we would keep and which we would discard and where we would wait for one another at the finish. after we removed our extra clothing and tossed our numbered bags into the transport vehicle we walked together to the start corral and just sort of ended up behind the 3:35 pace group and waited for the gun to sound. my friends and i followed the race course closely together for about nine miles before any significant pace changes started to occur and the effects of the last few months took over. as women and moms and wives we tend to feel the aches and pains of those we care about until they become part of us and running, on our own or together, is a way for us to use our physicality to help manage those feelings and responsibilities. while the marathon training serves a congruent purpose for all of us, each of us responds differently to those daily stresses. some of us run until we feel lifes anxieties drip away with the sweat. some of us run to keep the chaos from stopping our movement altogether. all of us run for the support and the friendship and the emotional strength that grows as our capacity for endurance builds. the race was tough for all of us and we tested ourselves beyond what, according to our training, we should have been able to achieve. missed training runs, illness, and injury have eclipsed our lives over the last while and we felt restricted by those extra layers. for some, the weight of responsibilites and resulting emotional struggles impacted physicality and restricted ability to move fast. for another, physical pain from chronic injury left a mental limp that seemed impossible to bear. for me, my "race day brain" forced me to outrun my inadequecies and push for physical rather than emotional pain. in the end, we all reached the finish line of this tough challenge and though it may have felt like a disappointment i would remind us that, one way or another, we got there. and in some ways the elements that impacted our movements actually set us free and made us more resilient. we faced an obvious opponent and kept moving until we conquered it. lets not forget that while the layers we wear in winter are restrictive, they still protect us from the cold. and that day, the lessons we learned about ourselves and each other will benefit us when facing future endeavors. i challenge us all to remember what it is about each of us that drove us to register and commit to training in the first place and that that is what is most important. regardless of anything that happened after that moment we need to remember we had what we needed to take on this course and overcome lifes challenges then and we still have it. and like the sun, we are bigger than the moon and while we may feel overshadowed and struggle in the darkness at times there is still light and the promise that the moon will continue to travel until it no longer covers the sun.

iron will

after i ran my first marathon i was afraid of what my body would feel like with each and every movement.  it hurt bad enough just to take one step after another but to introduce stairs, worse down than up, or heaven forbid, to brave a toilet seat was beyond any self-induced physical pain heretofore experienced.  the word excruciating, honestly, does not seem like an overstatement.  the only thing worse than continuing to move after having run a marathon is starting to move again once you have stopped. as a fitful sleeper in normal conditions i struggled with each involuntary movement and was awakened by my sister holding a dose of motrin and bottle of water.  "take these honey", she said, "you are whimpering in your sleep"  later that day i traveled home to my family who was in the process of moving into a new house.  this required me to lug boxes and furniture out of a storage unit, into a u-haul, and then into my house, up and down stairs and into individual rooms.  i remember feeling such different extremes in the emotional fulfillment of having completed my first marathon and excitement about a new house while concurrently suffering almost overwhelming physical pain.  the conversion of these polar opposites and the intensity at which they spotlight the other remains in my arsenal of things learned while pushing my body to new limits and, i admit, is something i occasionally seek after through athletic endeavors.

not everyone can relate athletically but most everyone has experienced these extremes through challenges forced upon us by life.  as a family, as well as a community we are suffering the tragic loss of a 12 year old boy who died suddenly.  this boy positively impacted so many in his life and continues to in death as his young healthy organs have been harvested and implanted into bodies that have been desperately seeking miracles.  as a mother to my own 12 year son and as the wife of a man who has coached and mentored the football team this boy belongs to, i wonder how this team will process and continue forward.  jimmy has been known to tell his boys that football is just a game that teaches them about life and prepares them for the future. he stresses camaraderie and teammate support, hard work and fundamentals, and is the first one to get down on one knee to personally thank each player for bringing their individual talents to their team and onto the field for each game of the season.  jimmy was called to go down to the middle school and talk to his team as many of these players asked for him rather than talking to the available counsellors and these boys sat in a circle of unity with him as they laughed and cried and ached for their lost teammate. jimmy explained that this cycle of extreme emotions is normal and could persist for a while. and he aches greatly for his team.

i ache for them as well and i wish i could tell them that, with time, their healing will come.  and that through their athletic endeavors they are learning about life and preparing for their futures and that sometimes life involves a great deal of pain but if they pay attention they can also experience to most amazing bits of greatness, too. but, it never comes until after we have scattered and shared our emotional clutter on the trail/road/field as we open up and push ourselves further than we imagined until we reach  a space of physical and spiritual freedom. it is difficult, though, to remember and impossible to explain just how much further a body blessed with a strong mental fortitude can continue forward even after extreme fatigue sets in. it can just keep finding ways to progress forward. and sometimes, the simplest things can keep one moving. a small handful of hot, salty, fries handed to me by a friend through their car window carried me over the last few miles of my first official 50 mile road race. and when i crossed that finish line i knew that though my battered body had covered the ground from lower mesa falls to driggs, my spirit had traveled much further and i felt free.

with any situation, we have to continue forward one step at a time to make it through. we can't stop moving before we get to the finish line and a football game is not complete until the fourth quarter ends and we have to do what we need to do to carry on and get there.  we have to feed our bodies with the fuel required to make it function properly and we have to feed our souls with community. we have to pay attention to the positives that get spotlighted even though we might ache like mad. and we have to remember that most often this process takes time and perseverance and endurance and a little motrin and maybe a few salty french fries from a friend at mile 45. and we have to know that it is easier to keep moving than it is to stop and start up again.  but most of all, we have to believe that we can do it and we have to extend a hand in camaraderie and we have to build up an iron will to succeed.

upside down

i got a call from ty's teacher last week asking for us to come in and have a meeting with her and the school's principle regarding ty's escalating impulse control and disrespect issues.  we met to discuss how we, as a team, can help him be successful with the social energies that school and life requires.  he is exceptionally bright and requires a little bit more to keep him occupied.  his current issues stem from the fact that he, as our youngest child, either gets overly mothered or picked-on and it is confusing for him.  he is, and always has been, very quickly reactive.  he's fun to tease...his response is big and the playground kids love watching him get all worked up.  ty is also fiercely independent and keenly aware of his personal preferences and he has recently begun refusing to participate in things he doesn't like and this has become difficult for his teacher to manage.

as with most of life's complications i take the situation and i turn it around in my head until i can separate my personal responsibility and formulate a plan of action for my future influence.  i have struggled this week trying to figure out the history and the progression of events that have lead to where we are now.  not because the history is necessarily challenging but because i am forced to accept my responsibility and my short-comings as a parent.  i am keenly aware of my inadequacies of late.

i took ty climbing yesterday for some one-on-one time.  ty is very strong and knows how to isolate and use his muscles.  he has run almost 100 miles this school year during his tuesday and thursday recesses at school. and the kid has six-pack abs!   while i watched ty climb i worked on a route that progresses out of a shallow cave.  hanging from the ceiling forces better technique in order to conserve enough strength and energy to complete the route.  i have to focus hard on using my core muscles and good hip movement to alleviate some of the pressure on my hands and my forearms.  and i really have to trust and allow my confidence to perpetuate movement to the next hold.  otherwise, it's too overwhelming to hang upside down.

today, izzy and i had a handstand contest and it reminded me of my dad and how he used to walk on his hands across the yard.  as a child of an alcoholic and the oldest boy of 9 kids i doubt he was ever told how physically strong he could become and how that physical strength would benefit him mentally and socially for so many years. i wish i knew what the catalyst was for his athletic endeavors.

as i process and turn these events over in my head it occurs to me that while i have spent time this week, both physically and figuratively, upside down, it really will be ok and the pull of the gravity is beginning to seem less overwhelming.  i can work with ty, little by little, and help him use positive physical pursuits to engage his mind and avoid boredom.  i can encourage him to allow his core strength and his new techniques to alleviate some of the pressure he feels when pushed by others.  i can teach him to be confident and trust that doing something he doesn't want to do does not make him less tough or less independent.  and i can tell him that using his hands (like his grandpa) to travel over the earth is a better pursuit than making a fist.

and i can put my arms around him and tell him that, no matter what, i love him.

jan 15th, 2012

jimmy took this picture of me and the kids and the mountains and posted it on facebook.  upon seeing it, a friend of his asked if we ever get "used" to seeing the mountains.  we don't. i don't.  i am mesmerized by them and i feel a magnetic pull from them at times. there is a trail that i have run so often i could cover it in the dark.  the trail is worn and smooth and familiar. however, there is one section that is rocky and slick and requires one to slow down and consider each footfall carefully to avoid injury.  after the rocks have been negotiated, the trail narrows and the trees close in almost like a tunnel and the sounds of the wind and the birds and my breathing boomerang off those trees and come back to me.  it's almost as if i can feel their notes tickle the fine hairs on my neck and cool the sweat on my skin.  my heartbeat and my cadence are fast in this section and, though my footsteps are light, i feel firmly connected to the earth.  this part of the trail winds and rolls and descends until it crosses a creek and finds a gravel access road. 
i once heard that the seventh year of anything is the most difficult.  i'm not sure why but it seems, to me, to have been the case in my life.  during the seventh year of my marriage, i miscarried and delivered a baby at 17 weeks gestation and lost my dad to suicide.  i am now currently in the seventh year post dad and baby loss and some days i find myself on rocky terrain taking uncertain steps forward.  not only am i dealing with cluttered chaos on the trail, in relation to those losses, but the people that i love are experiencing the jagged and slick parts of me as i process and i notice them guarding their steps a bit.  i need to resolve, and let go, some of those issues so as not to alienate them further.

while travelling the gravel road, the elevation rolls and climbs until it reaches the junction of several different roads.  a junction is defined as an act of joining two or more things together or a place where two things meet and one terminates.  this particular junction provides access to several different roads and trails to choose from but usually, at this point in my travels i know that i just have a couple of quick downhill miles to get back to where i started.
i think we all have moments where, for one reason or another, we are unable to put our best foot forward.  it's part of life, right?  i need to remember that on my trail and in my life the difficult rocky sections,when smartly negotiated, lead directly into those cushy spaces that allow me to just move and feel free and be supported by the earth.  i need to remember that upon encountering junctions it is ok to follow one path and it is , sometimes, necessary to let another trail terminate and i need to remember that if i keep moving forward and do my best to stay connected to the earth i will be rewarded with a couple of quick downhill miles and the reverberation of my own breathing off the trees.

girls night out

my friend darla needed a quick adventure so the two us of took our matching daughters and headed to lava.  the grown up girls chatted in the front of the beefy diesel hoggin pick-up truck while the littles channelled taylor and miley in the backseat.  we ate salad and pizza like princesses at the royal and checked into a hotel called home.  we soaked in varying degrees of heat at the hot springs and hid in the steam rising from the water and i layed on the cold concrete next to the hottest pool and watched the stars.  the thing i liked about alternating between the heat of the pool and the frigid concrete is that i had to focus on my breathing to manage the extremes.   we ate ice cream, listened to the trains, channelled some adele and went to bed early.

in the a.m. with bits of my very seldom used anti-anxiety/sleep aidnecessary to undo too many sleepless nights of late still on board i pulled on olivia's fake ugg boots and went for a hike in my pajamas.

 i walked passed the idaho centennial trail sign and crossed this engineering marvel of a bridge...

 i turned and viewed the hot springs and my sleeping girls at "home" as i ascend this trail and laughed when i heard 3 loud whistle blowing trains travel through town  before 8 a.m.  it reminded me of my cousin vinny!

 i surprised some viciously aggressive llamas near this tree.  not sure how i escaped them...i was too scared to take a picture

 there were some aspects where the ground was bare but mostly my trail was covered in icy snow.  this is a flat section. many were not so easy to cover due to the steepness.

 don't blame me for the life-less grey and brown as i have been praying for snow for all i'm worth for months.  i think i am being humbled...

 i did watch this happen and the extremes reminded me to breathe, again.  happy saturday!

hiking down was a little bit dicey, as i figured it would be given my footwear, and i had a couple of tushy-meet-the-ground moments but only one slide-off-the-trail-and-roll-into-the-buck-brush-experiences.  thank goodness for eating like a princess and providing my self plenty-o-padding.  may need a spine adjustment or a massage later...

note to self: you are normally well prepared for all eventualities, which is why your pack is always a little too heavy. take your boots next time! the good news is, you now know that barefoot running is not for you.  phewww!  thank goodness you never have to wear them, those vibrams are so hideous...

after a great breakfast, omelets, pancakes and belgium waffles, at johnny's restaurant we climbed into the diesel and left the home hotel and headed north.  thanks darla, izzy and marin for the perfect girls night out!