Oh, The Places You'll Go....

This past week has been an adventurous one.  And I’ve learned and re-learned a few lessons along the way….

On Monday I ran my 3^rd half marathon in 4 months and beat my PR by just under 5 minutes. On Wednesday I celebrated my 4^th wedding anniversary.  And on Saturday Mr. M and I climbed our first 14er to celebrate. 

Whether you’re running a race, working on your marriage or climbing a mountain I feel there’s one common key:

Keep. Moving. Forward.

In a recent blog The Perfect Storm I talked about my last half just falling apart, some due to uncontrollable circumstances but also because of things that I let slip through the cracks. So when I signed up for the next half I was determined to do everything in my power to make sure I was prepared for this race.

I put in the time.

I put in the miles.

I watched my nutrition.

And I was feeling GOOD.  I felt confident going in that I could really come back and possibly? hopefully? break my PR?  But I was still cautious after bonking the last one.

But all my hard work paid off.

I felt better in the last 6 miles than I did the first 7. I was picking up my pace.  My legs felt stronger and stronger with each stride.  I had a negative split!

I could tell I had put in the conditioning as the race just seemed to fly by and I PR’d.  I was feeling mighty proud of my accomplishment and all the hard work I had put in…..

Then comes Wednesday and can you believe it, it’s been 4 years of marriage!  I can’t tell sometimes if it feels longer or shorter than it really is but it’s crazy to see how far we’ve come in that time.  Had a baby, moved across the country, pursuing our dreams…. But that communication thing, um ya, still a work in progress….

Yes, we still struggle with communication. *Gasp!*  No our marriage is not perfect, shocking I know.

So our anniversary was not ideal.  The Lord still uses us to bring out those areas in the other that are not like Him.  We are still a work in progress. 

It is never fun to be in discord, especially in your marriage.  But I truly believe it’s in those times that you can either move closer together or further apart.  It’s a choice.  And it’s not always easy.

But every time you choose to take just one more step forward, you are claiming a victory.  You are not allowing discomfort, complacency or selfishness to have a foothold.

So we had our moment, took some time and then addressed it the next day.  We regrouped and moved forward. 

Then came Saturday! We packed up the car before dawn and headed out to Breckenridge. 

Mr. M had planned a little getaway for our anniversary and in McCord fashion we were going to celebrate by hiking Quandary Peak, our first 14er!  (A mountain of more than 14,000 ft. elevation at the summit).

I was so excited! This was an adventure, and we were doing it together.

We filled up our camelbacks, threw some snacks and GU’s inside, grabbed our cameras and headed off! 

The first 1/3 was all through the trees and was mainly a dirt trail. As we climbed over the tree line it started to turn into bigger rocks and at one point I could only describe it as when Gollum is leading Frodo up those narrow stairs to Mordor in The Lord of the Rings.   Only the view was much better. 

Hiking through these rocks was intense. There was a long stretch that was a really slow grade which was a nice reprieve because trying to navigate through was taking all our focus and energy.

Just before the final ascent that looked like it went straight up for at least a mile we stopped and took a picture. All grinning and cheesy. Completely clueless to what we were about to go in to.  It was probably better that way….

That final climb to the summit took everything we had. It climbed so quickly the altitude really started to affect us.  We hadn’t eaten a ton before we started, having no idea what we were really getting into.  Mr. M was feeling nauseas and I was getting dizzy.  We were tired, our legs hurt.  We took short breaks and just kept moving slowly.

At one point Mr. M just wasn’t sure he could do it but we were so close.  I encouraged him and he dug deep and just put one foot in front of the other until, VOILA! We did it!! 

We were standing on the summit of Quandary Peak.  We were at 14,265 ft. elevation surrounded by mountains in every direction and looking over them all.  It was a euphoric moment.  What a victory. 

Like I said, it was an adventurous week and I learned a lot. 

You want to run a great race? Keep moving forward.

You want an awesome marriage? Keep moving forward.

You want to climb that mountain? Keep moving forward.

This week I felt like that’s what the Lord kept showing me.  There’s no easy route. They’re no shortcut. 

It takes Effort.

Time.

Sacrifice.

Discipline.

Climbing a mountain isn’t easy.  There was no chairlift to the top. No escalator down.  You have to put in the work and just keep moving forward.  You want that view from the top, move your butt.

Running a race isn’t easy.  You have to put in the work. No one can do it for you.  But the feeling of pride when you slaughter your PR because you worked for it, it’s more than worth it.

Marriage isn’t always easy.  You have to make an effort to stay engaged.  You can’t phone it in.  Life will happen and get in the way if you don’t make it a priority. You want a great marriage, invest in your spouse.  Put in the time.  Put in the effort.

No matter what the arena is, you eat an elephant one bite at a time. 

You climb a mountain one step at a time. 

Oh the places you'll go if you just Keep. Moving. Forward.

 

The Perfect Storm

So, it happened, I finally had my worst race ever.  Worst time ever.  Worst run ever.  I’d always heard or read about people bombing a race and totally crashing, hitting that wall, but had never experienced it for myself.  I guess it was about time, and the conditions were perfect….

I ran my second half on the 4^th of July, my third overall.  It was a month and a half after the last one I did in Denver so I figured it was enough time to recover but easily jump back into training.  I had been dealing with some tendonitis in my foot coming off the last race so it was a full 2 weeks before I could start training but I figured a full month would be plenty.  Sure, probably had I been training a little more consistently. 

Life happens as it always does and I didn’t always get in all my weekly runs, but I’d just finished my last half in great time, I’ll be fine I thought. 

I also hadn’t taken into consideration that it was now going into June and now I’m training in the summer.  In Colorado.  At elevation.  Holy hotness! Training in the summer is already hard but the sun out here is no joke.  I was struggling with the heat but figured it was just a minor detail, I got this.

It was also coming on ‘that time’ and I was feeling uber drained. But I figured it’s a part of life you’ll just have to push through, everyone does it.

Then the week of the race, my lovely daughter who is learning to share decides to practice on me.  And shares her chest cold. Thanks.  It was a full-on head congestion, can’t breathe because someone is sitting on my chest, wake up in the middle of the night to a coughing fit type cold.  Lovely, who needs to breathe to run right?? 

And then, to top it off, my girlfriend asks if I want to go hiking at Palmer Park while our husbands mountain bike—absolutely I do! I love hiking! Strapped on the peanut and grabbed my dog for a nice hour and a half hike.  Why is this a bad idea you ask?? Because it’s the NIGHT before the race!! Of course I had thought nothing of it until oh, we’re a good 45 minutes into the walk, realize we may be lost and still have to get back to the cars.  Yaaaa… enough said.

Though I think the biggest factor was that I didn’t feel confident, it was a little hard to with all those factors playing into it. But still, mentally I wasn’t bringing my A game, and that can be a game changer.  And it was.

Oh, it was also an out and back race, so you run to the halfway point and then turn around and run back.  I didn’t really care for that, no change of venue and felt even more aware of how far I had to go. 

But the first 6.5 miles I was cruising! I felt really good, nice and steady; my time was even looking good.  Then we turned around.  And in NOT a good way, it all went downhill from there.  My legs were shot, that hike the night before was taking its toll.  It was like trying to run with concrete beams as legs. 

The chest congestion was wearing on my breathing which was already labored because it was getting warmer and warmer. 

I felt like I could not drink enough water and my GU’s weren’t giving me that little extra boost they usually did.

Every minute it felt like it just got hotter and hotter and with each step I was moving slower and slower.

I was drained.  I felt sapped of all my energy and mentally I was battling to keep moving. 

I have never wanted to quit so bad in my whole life.  It sucked! I kept having to walk (gulp, as I swallow my pride…) because I had nothing left.  I kept passing and being passed by the same handful of people who seemed to be struggling as well.  This wasn’t exactly encouraging but I was just thankful to not be alone. 

And let me be clear, I am in no way judging anyone that does walk or has had to, you do whatever you have to do to finish. This was just my own personal struggle.

This was the greatest mental and physical battle I’ve had running, and it was exhausting!  My pride was definitely bruised each time I had to walk.  But it wasn’t until the old guy, with the POW MIA flag on a large pole sticking out of his backpack, which I had passed on my way back, passed ME, that my pride really took a blow.  Seriously!? But I had nothing left, no second or third wind, no strength in my legs, barely had the willpower to keep moving.  It was all I had to just put one foot in front of the other and hopefully not pass out.

But I finished. Not that I can really say that with much joy, I mean I wasn’t injured so it wasn’t like not finishing was an option. And my time was just sad. It was an ugly finish.  Felt like that saying, something about being as slow as a turtle running through peanut butter… Ya that was me.

 I hurt all over.  But really my pride was hurt more than anything.  And you remember the old guy with the flag?  My husband later told me he started Last. LAST!! I guess my pride needed a good beating.

But I’ll get back up and do it again. Why? Because I love it.

I love running.

Love racing.

Love pushing myself.

Love the sense of accomplishment.

I love knowing that I can do what I set my mind to. 

That means taking the good with the bad but doing my part to prepare.

There were some circumstances that were my fault and some were out of my control, it really was the perfect storm. 

But I’m using this to motivate me to change what I can for future races and life in general, and be ok with what I can’t.  You can’t put in half the work and expect to get 100% of the results. 

We all have a bad race, a bad day. That’s life, it’s going to happen.  You can choose to let it ruin your day, your attitude, or you can pick yourself up and go again!

Aren’t these the times that we learn the most about ourselves?  In those bombed races. When the car takes a dump.  A bad day at work.

It’s when everything falls apart that we see who we really are. 

What we really want. 

And what we have.

Learn the lesson, change what you can, and let go of what’s not in your control. 

My positive spin on all this?  I’ve finally experienced my worst race, woo hoo! So now that I’ve gotten that out of the way, it’s time to move on to the next race….

The View from the Top

I just started training for my 4^th half marathon coming up on Labor Day and am really looking forward to it.  And after my last half that was a total disaster (and will be its own blog later) I really want to redeem myself. 

So a couple weekends ago I set out for my first early morning long run. I had found a new trail online that I hadn’t run before and the only thing I knew about it was it was super close to home and a mix of paved and gravel. Perfect.

I walk out to the trail head just past this random water tower, start my watch and find my pace. A couple minutes in there’s a clearing of the trees and WOW, the most breathtaking view looking over the city. Bright blue, clear sky and the mountains just look majestic. As I follow the trail I realize I’m briskly going down a rather steep hill….and down…and down, quickly. And I knew what this meant: the amazing summit view I started at was going to be the incline I’d have to take to get back to my car at the end of my 6 miles. UGH.

I tried to push that thought out of my head. I got back into a steady pace as I finally made my descent into the surrounding neighborhoods and enjoyed the scenery of a new trail.

Just under 2 miles in I come to an incline. I’m not talking Indiana ‘hills’, I’m talking look straight up and not able to see the nearest plateau. And this one is all red, gravelly dirt. Talk about a glut workout!

I finally made it to the top to see another amazing, breathtaking view.   The city and subdivision I had just run through was laid out before me. I did a slow jog around the lookout point to take it in and then headed on.

And then I come back down. And down. And down. Which normally is heaven and much welcomed, but on this run all I could think about was knowing I’d be running back UP those inclines on the way back. Grrrr.

Mile 3 was a steady incline and I was overlooking the east side of the city now, my neighborhood and stores, still so beautiful. Such an amazing perspective that I never see on my day to day errands. The view from the top truly is amazing.

Until I headed back for the last 3 miles…. I can see 2 major intersections in the direction I’m heading back and then I see it: on the next major ‘hill’ there is the water tower. Gulp. That’s where my car is. That’s where I still have to get to. And I realize once again how high up I am over the city, and how far down, and up, and down I must go.

For a second I was trying to figure out how to have my husband come and get me. I didn’t know exactly where I was. Didn’t even have my phone. But I just wanted him to come find me because I knew what I was facing on the way back. I was having a momentary pity party until reality sunk in, there was no one coming and I still had 3 miles to go.  Either I run back because let’s face it, that’s where the car is. Or I sit here and well, sit here.

So I kept running.

It was rough. It was hot. I was tired. My legs were angry with me. The inclines were unforgiving. But.  I. Kept. Going. And I finished in surprisingly great time.

That was hands down THE hardest, hilliest trail I’ve ever run. The inclines were killer and the downhills weren’t refreshing. But the view! Not to mention I felt like a beast after finishing that!

You hear of people climbing crazy mountains and you see a picture from the top and WOW. The view. But you never realize the sacrifice it took to get there. Granted I’ve never climbed a mountain but right now these are my own personal mountains, my own accomplishments and the views from the top are worth the fight from the bottom.

In every area of our lives we have uphill battles at times. 

 It’s hard.

Life isn’t always easy. It takes work. It takes sacrifice.

Things aren’t always fair. You’re tired.

But the ONLY way to get that view from the top is to never give up. You can sit at the bottom having a pity party and hope someone will come and find you. Or you can put one foot in front of the other and make it happen.  It’s the difference between looking at someone else’s pictures and experiencing the view for yourself…

 

 

 

 

Let the Good Times Run....

This past Sunday I ran my second half marathon and had a blast.  As the race got closer and closer people would always ask if I was ready for it and to be honest I had to say this was the Least prepared I’ve felt for a race.  I hadn’t built up my weekly mileage as I should have, I was pretty lax in following my training plan, I hadn’t run in over a year, had a baby, the altitude was still a factor in affecting my pace and at times felt I had hit a wall or boredom with the day to day runs.  And of course the week of the race my foot started hurting whenever I walked and it sounded like tendonitis, awesome.

I actually preferred my long runs over the short weekly mileage because I would pick out a new trail every time and go run it. The new trail, scenery, the exploration of a new place really made the run enjoyable and the miles fly by. 

Usually my runs are my quiet time with the Lord, I can clear my head, work through things and just enjoy a great workout; but lately they’ve just been runs.  No grand conversations with the Lord, no great breakthroughs, no revelations or insight. Just runs. And hard ones at that.  I didn’t feel like I was making progress, instead of feeling like I was building on the last run, every run was just work. Some days I couldn’t seem to catch my breath the whole time. I wasn’t finding the joy in my run like I used to. This was Hard!  And that was frustrating. But I had signed up, made a commitment and would follow through, no matter how slow or ugly it was.  I have a little person who will always be watching me… How do I react when things are hard? Do I quit? Do I give up? Or do I persevere? Stick to my commitment?  I can’t expect her to do any differently than I myself can example.  It should be Do as I DO….

So I pushed along and finished my last long run feeling good going into the race, until the foot pain of course.  It seemed to get worse and everything I read and heard was rest, rest, rest. So I opted not to run at all the week before the race and pray that that would be enough rest and my foot would hold out through the whole 13.1 miles.

We drove up to Denver the day before, went to the Expo, got all settled in and I was oddly calm. Excited, but not nervous like my first half.  Even as we were lining up, waiting for my coral to be released there wasn’t that anxiousness and ‘Ohmygosh I have to pee Again!’, but a calm and excitedness, I was really looking forward to this!  I love the buzz in the air, thousands of other people who are up at 5 am as well because they love to run!  For one older lady in my coral, this was her 65^th half marathon! Mad props….

My coral was released and I was off, trying not to go out too fast and trying to get a feel for my foot.  It hurt on and off the whole run but was very manageable.  We ran through the Denver Zoo, through some beautiful (and some not so much) neighborhoods and through the Aurora Fire Station.  I didn’t turn on my IPod until the last 2 miles. I took in everything on the run, the funny signs—my favorite: “I didn’t get up this early to watch you Walk!”, the people sitting in their front yards eating a bowl of cereal and coffee, the animals in the zoo, the view of the mountains in the distance, all the different people around me.  It was awesome. 

The last 3 miles I was all out going for it, I didn’t want to finish and feel like I could keep running.  I was booking and it was so much fun! I saw my family waving about a mile before the finish line and that gave me an extra boost, they always make me smile.  Of course the last mile lasted at least 2, felt like forever but as I saw the finish line in view I, as I always do, picked as many people that were in front of me to pass before crossing the finish line. I was flying!  I love pushing myself and my body, pushing the boundaries in my head, pushing my body when it thinks it’s done and surprising myself. 

I finished a minute and a half slower than my first half 2 years ago, So close! Stupid bathroom break… But with all the factors going against me…. Altitude, poor training, not having run for over a year, had a baby, bum foot; I proved I could still press through.  Yes, running is just that, running, but it’s something I love.  I find more of myself in each run, especially the crappy ones.  My true character comes out, the real attitude, the real me—good, bad, and ugly. 

Training for my first half went very smoothly and I found a great sense of accomplishment in finishing.  Training for this one was Way harder, a lot more to overcome, but this time in the end I found a great sense of joy, again. I’m already signing up for my next half in July!

So what do you love? What is your passion? Go after it! As Pastor Brock always says, Live Your Love! Don’t let the day to day or overwhelming obstacles keep you from it. There will always be a reason you think shouldn’t or can’t, but when the guy pushing his disabled adult son in a full length wheelchair passed me, I knew I had no good reason why I couldn’t do what I love.  So I keep running….

 

Run This Race

A few months ago I watched my husband, sister and a huge group of friends complete their first (for most) Indy Half Marathon.  It was bittersweet for me because I was excited for all the newbies getting to experience this amazing race for the first time but envious that I was not also out there, toeing the line amidst 30,000+ other runners.  My heart longed to be out there, next to my husband as he ran the mini for the very first time, to be his support, lend him my ‘expert’ advice, and run this journey with him.  But being that I was 8 months pregnant and was unable to run as I had planned during my pregnancy, this was to be a race he’d have to run alone, and I would have to watch.

Everyone had started training in January.  It was cold and wet although it got unseasonably warm in March, it didn’t stick around and it went back into the cooler weather basically up until the week before the Mini.  Since there were lots of new runners I got to hear all their stories about how far they went, their time, how much it sucked or that they puked in someone’s front yard.  This was exciting for me—It was so awesome to see people find they could go further than the boundaries in their head, see them really push themselves and step out and do something they never thought they could.  Breaking those limits they or someone else had put on them at some point in their life.  Breaking the “I could never’s”.

I listened to stories about blisters and new shoes and target heart rates and fueling and when to Gu, crappy runs and PR runs, I was in heaven at least a little. But my heart longed to join them. Longed to run, let my legs go and just cruise. I wanted to be a part of the excitement and buzz.  Vicariously living the race excitement through my husband was still not the same as doing it myself.  What a reflection of our own relationship with the Lord-- that intimacy with the Him only comes when we ourselves enter in, bow our hearts and welcome Him in to that well in our heart that is only meant for Him.  We can never expect to enter in to that intimacy and go deeper without actually entering in ourselves. No one can do it for you.

I actually I learned a lot from being on the spectator side of the race this time.  I realized how much of a passion and lifestyle running has become for me.  I was reminded that no matter how much I want it for someone, they have to want it as much for themselves. No matter how much advice I have to offer, experience or knowledgeable resources I have, everyone has to run their own race, their own way.  I also realized that no matter how fun it was to be the spectator, there is nothing like running that race yourself. The time that was put in, the discipline, the finding the You you never knew was in there, none of that can be found sitting on the sidelines.  Just the same we must each find our own secret garden, prayer closet, holy hole that is between you and the Lord. Your parents’ relationship with the Lord will not sustain you.  Your friends that are on fire for the Lord can never take you to the holy of holies.  I have to want it, I have to discipline myself, no matter how much my mom may want it for me, only I can get to that place with the Lord.

So I found a spot right by the finish line and waited for my husband to cross so he could see me and I could meet him right away. While I was there I got to see the hundreds of other family members and friends there cheering on their loved ones. Saw hundreds and hundreds of people coming in to the finish, some walking, some kicking it in the final dash home, and a few actually collapsing feet from the finish line, all with a look of determination & achievement, and sheer exhaustion.  You could see the toll it took, the sacrifice.  All to cross that finish line and say “I did it”.  Some may find that silly or pointless but in the midst of the legs screaming and blisters and pain you dig deep and find one of two things:  I did Not prepare for this! Or Here we go! And pull from your training and kick it.  And just like our lives, we have those times we must dig deep, but what do you find?  Have you gone deep, dug and filled that well with the Lord so that in those trials you have something to pull from?  Have you put in the time, disciplined yourself, found that secret garden where you meet the Lord and are refreshed, prepared for the final stretch?  Or have you sat back enjoying other’s stories of divine meetings with the Lord?  Not made the time to meet with Him yourself?  Living on your parents’ relationship with the Father?

Are you finding that last oomph for your final kick at the end or are you that guy I passed on the ground feet from the finish line?