Walk to the Mailbox

January 16, 2011
Age: 27
Occupation: Account Executive at RN
Residence: Chicago, IL
Time since last race: 2 months
Conditions: Flat. Cool morning, 70 degrees by the finish. Sunny.
Official time: 04:20:43
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2011 did not start smoothly.  I get itchy on the odd years.  I do way better in the evens.

Six years of situations that had nothing to do with me had to happen and culminate at the exact moment when I was supposed to realize that it’s time to stand up and send energy elsewhere.  More than one year dedicated to hope for something that was never quite right.  And was never going to happen.  It’s a shame that hope floats (<– I now know the meaning), but I’ll gladly save it for the deserving.

To put it simply the result is this: People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. The moment you figure out which it is, you know exactly what to do.  Here’s what that moment looked like for me:

If you’re a runner and you train indoors on a treadmill you share with me the nightmare of falling off the thing at some point in your running career.  Well folks, it happened to me.  Not only did it happen, but it was at 7:30 in the morning, every treadmill was occupied, my friend Lauren was behind me and here’s the scene:

It’s Wednesday, the 5th day of the new year, and so far not a damn thing has gone right for me.  Everything seems to be out of place and to top it off I went on the worst date I’d ever been on the night before.  My sanctuary is and continues to be in my routine so naturally, I wake myself up the next morning, drag my sad and weepy self to the gym and think to myself that there’s no way I can do the run that’s been planned for me.  Twenty-three minutes into a 60 minute run I decide to take a break and get water so I hop off and fill up.  I’m mopey and weepy and kind of just shuffle reluctantly back to my machine.  It’s running at 7.5 mph (8 min/mi) and 1% incline.  I loosely take a step on and like a rag doll I’m tossed across the room.  In shock, I stood up immediately and went to the bathroom with my friend Lauren where I proceed to burst into tears.  Not because I’m dizzy and my elbow is bleeding, but for how really crappy I felt about life in general as a result of last night’s date.  (Someday I’ll share the details of that night with you and someday it will be really funny.  It’s just not that funny right now).

Needless to say I didn’t finish my run, although I did think about it (15 weeks till Boston!).  When the fingers on my left hand started to go numb, my coach Kimberly took me to the emergency room but not without a stop to Starbucks first.  Priorities.  What if we had to wait a long time?!  I mean my elbow might possibly be broken but I still want coffee and breakfast, dammit!

I’m always appreciative of bonding time with Kimmie.  In the ER we shared a pumpkin scone, stories from the battlefield of life and giggled (I cried) at what the universe was trying to tell me.  In the end, I didn’t have a broken elbow or a concussion but like my last accident, I had a clearer view of what direction I was supposed to go to make my new year better.

The next few days ramped up, even though the sadness was still there, I managed to pull it together enough to “start” my new year on January 7th when a lot of unnecessary-to-mention things finally went right.  A trip to Dallas for my company‘s national sales meeting left me “glad to be here” which is a great result from those types of things.  When our VP of Sales called me out in front of the whole salesforce and gave me props for this crazy goal of mine, well that was pretty stinkin’ cool.  (Thanks, Tom).

How could you say no to the faces of these sales girls?

A one-day turnaround from Dallas and I was off to Phoenix.  Arizona in January for a Chicagoan is a welcome break from our self-imposed red wine-soaked hibernation.  Just look at this!

Mom and me at dinner being fancy with martinis:

Race day, 10 days after treadmill run-in.  Bruises, etc. fading.  Yes my nails match my shirt, what!?

Since my main goal of 2011 is my performance at Boston, I planned on having some fun for this one.  With only 13 weeks to go until said race, the plan for the day had I not been running a marathon would have been 14 miles.  The first 14 were over in the blink of an eye, even though in the depths of it, it seemed to be going slowly.  How is that possible?  I hit the half dead on at 1:45 (8:00 min/mile) and felt pretty proud of myself for predicting that and then achieving it.  (Goals inside of goals, ha!)

The rest of the race was unlike any I’d ever done.  I had to use serious effort to stay positive and in the moment.  If I were home, I’d be done.  In an ice bath, eating an apple and peanut butter, watching Millionaire Matchmaker on Hulu and trying not to drop my cell phones in the tub while texting KZ about plans for the night.

My mom was in Arizona with me and traversing the course on bike, she was a welcome sight at mile 15 and so hilarious as a race companion.  She was taking pictures, chatting with other runners, and kept me moving.  I was snapping photos with the iPhone, updating Twitter and texting friends and family.  Why not have a little fun?  Kinda felt like I was breaking the rules.

Somebody call 9-1-1!

Mom joins in on her bike, a poster that speaks the truth at mile 18:

An observation:  walking 6 miles is a LOT harder than running six miles.  Maybe it’s all mental but man, oh man, my body hurt way worse walking those 6 than the 20 total that I ran for the day.

At mile 20 I sent my mom on her way to meet me at the finish.  I hopped off course and did some stretching then started running.  My mind was en fuego with thoughts.  I mean I could not stop it.  Negative, positive, neutral.  The works.  At some point during all these races I always question whether or not I can really do it.  Because I was walking and jogging slowly I somehow felt like I was disrespecting the whole marathon thing.  People train and train for these things and I’m walking and giggling and taking photos.  It’s like talking in church.  Then I chat it up at mile 25 with a guy in a Bears jersey who tells me this is his first marathon after overcoming cancer.  That was the “get over yourself” moment I needed.  Since I took the second half slowly, I got to witness (pay attention to) the human drive in mass quantities and that is an amazing thing.  Then I zone out (finally) and bring it home.  I stopped in the chute and took a picture… why the hell not? Crossed the line at 4:20 on the dot.  Aaaaand… time to re-focus on Boston.

Mom, your support on and off the road just totally rocks my world.

So what’s up for 2011?  How am I going to stay out of my silly little funk?  Set more goals, make more plans, continue to surround myself with gobs and gobs of people who love me and do these things:

• Signed up for Salsa dancing lessons with the GG’s and KZ

• Booked a trip to Amsterdam and Germany for ProWein with Becca where many Bucket List items will be checked off

• Of course Boston in April

• Many triathlons and shorter distance races (half marathon distance)

• A lot of weddings, and I mean like, a lot

• First Annual Sister Trip (the start of a yearly vacation per the inspiration of my friend Karyn and her sister)

And lastly, I’m unsubscribing to daydreams about the (not so) cryptic messages from pirates, bears, fountains and pennies and I’m just going to keep loving.  Keep giving.  And keep hoping.  Even if I need a kiss from the treadmill to remind me.