This link will lead you to my current blog, where I'm training for the Goofy's Challenge in January '08:
http://runningkathryn.blogspot.com

Once upon a time, was a girly-girl. A certified non-athlete. A girl apparently blessed with a fantastic metabolism, who could maintain an off-the-rack size 6 (in pants) on a diet of beer, cigarettes, and whatever her waitressing job du-jour featured on their menu at employee prices. Throw in a bag of chips and a full-sugar Dr. Pepper for breakfast, and you have the makings of a champion!

Then girl met boy, and fell in love. As her love grew, her metabolism shrunk. Boy married girl, and suddenly there were 2 boys! :) Four kids later, the girl was an overblown version of her former self.

So, one day the girl (who you might guess is ME!) looked in the mirror and said, "Enough is enough" and joined the Y. Sixty-plus pounds later, she (I!) had uncovered her figure (albeit rearranged) and discovered a new hobby: Running.

That love of running and an innate insanity led to the first marathon in Disney in January of 2005. At the conclusion of the marathon in 2005, our heroine decided that there would never, ever, ever be a marathon in her future. Period. End of story. By definition, one completed marathon = a marathoner. Deed done. Movin' on.

Which brings us to - I don't know. I guess the same point that brings a mother who swears in the R (recovery) room of the LDR that she will never again birth a child but yet brings herself to give that child siblings. Eventually the pain fades away and nothing remains but the accomplishment, the happiness, the glory, the reward.

So I did - I went back for more. I set my sights on the Country Music Marathon. In that I am a long-time country music fan and had converted my husband to love the music too, to me it seemed natural. When my sister and her husband moved to TN, it was inevitable....

I "announced" I was running the thing long before I signed up... and then I signed up. And then I talked like I really was going to do it - really, really! And then - I started training. I trained alone, I trained with my local running club, I trained in my head, and sometimes I skipped training altogether. I created a schedule for myself and tried to stick to it... I beat myself up when I didn't, and puffed up when I did.

I added a new regimen to my workouts - a full-body, two-time-a-week weight training class. It is based on a similar routine as Bill Philips'; which is to say, you work each major muscle group to fatigue. I do believe that this was as beneficial to my training as my crack-o'dawn Saturday morning long runs.

As happens, life moved along quickly, and suddenly it was April 21, 2007. One week before the Nashville Country Music Marathon. Ready or not, here we come... trained or not trained! At one week out, there was not one thing more I could do to be prepared. And believe me, I was sure I was under-prepared.

We left our younger children with my in-laws and headed out with the twins in the dark to TN, to my sister's home to spend our weekend. After a fun Thursday catching up and introducing our dogs to each other, we retired fairly early. My poor brother-in-law: Knowing that Thursday night's sleep was essential to Saturday, he slept fitfully. :( I was more fortunate - the bed assigned to us was absolutely PERFECT and I was out before my head hit the pillow.

Friday was the Expo, which we always love. The CMM Expo was far too small for the crowd of 30,000+ participants and caused the Expo to be a disappointment. Mission accomplished, though: We gathered our race bibs and goodie bags and a bit of information that would become essential the following day ... the low-down on the course drink, Accelerade.

At an info clinic, the leader asked how many of us had trained with Accelerade, and a paltry few raised their hands. He then announced that it was a 4:1 carb:protein mix and to be careful with it. He advised that it be diluted if not avoided, and suggested we carry what we'd trained with on the route. We took careful note.

The next morning found us staring out the car window at a sea of red tail-lights. Despite our early departure time, we were dangerously close to missing the start altogether. It took us an hour from my sister's home to get to the exit for Nashville; another hour to get to the parking lot where the shuttles awaited frantic participants to bring them to the starting line. Our driver - Chuck - dropped us off and we headed straight to a shuttle (fortunate to be able to sit down) and were dropped at a scenic park, lined with far too few Porta-lets. FAR TOO FEW. Our efforts to hydrate well were met with 40-minute+ lines to use over-used porta potties with no toilet paper and intolerable conditions. Though we were corralled in 12 and 13, by the time we joined the start waves, we were among those coralled in 22. Fortunately our nervous energy was spent with the stress of the traffic and bathroom lines. Arriving at the starting line brought on more relief than anxiety...

Our wave started, 42 minutes into the race. We started our descent into the Music City and wondered at the crowds before us and behind us. I called Chuck to tell him we were just starting and he told me he'd see me around mile 1.5. He was a welcome sight as I dropped off an annoying water bottle as he was our mobile provisions unit. (The night before the race, we used window-chalk to label our van windows with our names and destination. His read, "Professional Spectator" and he is, underpaid though he might be. He has the race spectator/support person/pack horse thing DOWN. He rocks, and he was a lifesaver.)

I ran with my brother-in-law a bit, until nature called for more respectable porta-potties. He ran on, and we each ran alone from that point, though I was happy to encounter him along the course a couple of times later. I had decided that I was going to split the race into several parts - 13.1 (a half, which I do fairly easily and quite comfortably), then to mile 18 (which I had spotted on our there-and-back course) and then the 10k of mile 20 to mile 26.2 (I'd turn that into a 5k at mile 23). At 13.1, I checked my watch and miscalculated my time as 2:20. I was happy with that (I was wrong; I was 2:30 in). Miles 13.1 - 17 went easily - but then I took some Accelerade. My system revolted, and miles 17, 18, and 19 became the Job Johnny Tour. Chuck and the boys saw Happy Kathryn until mile 19.something, when her growling, hissing counterpart limped up one of the city's MOUNTAINS and demanded her own sports drink from the bag o'provisions.

The course then led from the prettiest parts of the city into the dregs, where cars actually drove ONTO the route if an officer so much as turned his head a degree or two. !!! It became fairly treacherous, and it would seem that the approaching Shelby park would be a welcome sight for we pedestrians. And it would be, if it were not morale-busting. On approach to the park, I saw mile marker 25 - yee haw - the end is near!! Yet, I was only approaching 21 myself. The ease by which the initial miles clicked by was not with me now - my mile-by-mile approach had dwindled down to block-by-block, tree-by-tree, foot-by-foot. 25 miles was too much of an effort away, and yet still 1.2 long, hateful miles to the finish and blessed end of the torture. Morale, meet toilet. I was done.

So I rang up my number-one cheerleader, and said, "I am at mile 23, I am miserable, my morale is gone, please help me." He said, "You are a 5k from the finish, you are strong, you could walk in and make good time, you can do it." Initially, it didn't work, and I must've had such a scowl that it brought a medical worker running toward me asking if I were okay. I was not - not mentally, anyway. There was something about that park - something about the long loop that encircled a beautiful pond but allowed a participant to see where she was going - so, so far away, so out of reach, so discouraging. And then I thought what I think during a race: The faster you run, the sooner the hell ends, MOVE IT.

And so I did - ran, ran, walked. Ran, ran, walked. The water stop at 23.5 miles also offered beer by the Harriers ("the drinking club with a running problem") and I was damn near obliged to partake being that I was wearing my "will run for beer" singlet. (I hustled through this water-stop - apparently my kick was there when beer was in sight).

Again, I ran with the "just get to that hydrant", "just to that mailbox", "just to that sign" mentality and in my haze stumbled onto the Citgo guys, who now I :HEART:. They were offering water (which was really unnecessary) but the words they said were like a salve to my tired, burning mind and body:

GO AROUND THE CORNER, AND YOU WILL SEE THE FINISH.

I rounded the corner and they were not lying - it really was the finish. Mile 26 (once again I choked, once again I feared hyperventilating) and then .2 miles to done. .2 miles where my legs found lost speed, my face found a lost smile, and my heart remembered why I had started this journey in the first place: TO FINISH.

(Hey, and I broke 5 hours! :) Official time: 4:59:55, LOL).

Am I happy with my time? No, not really. I'd hoped for a 4-4:30 marathon, and thought on some level I was capable of it. Truth be told, I didn't train properly for that finish, and I underestimated the hills of good ol' Nashville, TN. I felt somewhat vindicated when the winner said on TV (for all to hear!), "That was a tough course!" :) It is what it is, and time is important on a lot of levels, but finishing is even more important. There is something to be said for landing a spot as a Boston Qualifier (a dream I have myself!) but there is something also to be said for running for 5+ hours straight. It's not an easy thing to accomplish - the ability to persevere through pain, discomfort, or discouragement. To set a goal and work long-term - and then short-term - to achieve it. We may not all be winners, but there is happiness to be found among the mid-packers and the back-packers... anyone who crosses that finish line, who sets that goal and achieves it, and who perseveres despite hardship, or loss of morale, or whatever life throws in the way may not even be close to winning, but in our hearts, that medal is a badge of honor, a testament to fortitude, and a life-changing experience.

Will I do this again? I can say without hesitation, YES, because the Empire that is the Diz has already grasped my entry fee for the Goofy "Race and a Half". Will I do Nashville again? Chuck says yes, cheerfully yelling, "See ya next year!" as we pull out of my sister's and brother-in-law's driveway barely 24 hours past the race start (as I protest that I'll be there as a spectator -- only).

I think the same mentality that brought us to be the happy parents of four wonderful children will bring us back to marathon starting lines over and over again... eventually the pain wanes and the glory remains, and it's worth it. It's hard, but it's worth it.

Disney Once Again

I so wanted to add to this page but was unable due to the fact that I could not remember my username and password, LOL. But here I am, again!!

When I collected my "Donald" medal in 2006 (the medal for the 1/2 marathon in Disney) Chuck said, "I'm doing that with you next year." Fortuitous timing: The email letting me know that the race was open for registration came as Chuck was on the treadmill. He was in no position to say no. I signed us up right away. (Sneaky, sneaky wife).

The days, then weeks, then months clicked on, and Chuck had put forth no time for training (in his defense, it was the holidays, and he has a job that requires his concentration as the year comes to an end). We attempted to "sell" his entry, and when it was apparent it was not a hot commodity, we took to training. That is, we ran 4 miles in the morning and 5 miles in the evening exactly 2 days before the race. Yikes.

Happily, his parents accompanied us to the Happiest Place on Earth, and we settled in at one of our favorite moderate resorts. Chuck was nervous - I was not. I knew there were medical tents along the way ready and willing to take him on if need be. Our experience at Port Orleans was marred when we learned that they had shut down the food court for renovations!! We were led to believe an expensive buffet was our only option for food (save the pizza delivery they offer). FURIOUS, we went to the sister-hotel's food court, along with everyone else in both resorts (read: EXTENSIVE lines). We learned the next day that there were "reach-in" coolers with food available at our own resort - something that was not relayed to us when we stood toe-to-toe with a "manager" who tried hard - really hard - to sell us on a $13/head mediocre buffet meal. We can't help but wonder whose big idea it was to limit nourishment to a hotel full of athletes the weekend of a marathon. Or why we weren't alerted to this fact at check in. Our complaints to "management" were met with glassy-eyed, feined interest. We were really disappointed in Disney's handling of this matter and I know I heard more than one family say that they would never again stay on property.

(I use the word "manager" in quotations as it became obvious to us that "management" at Disney are bestowed with no more power to make things right than any other employee of the empire. )

Onward - we rose in the dark and tiptoed out of our room to the hotel lobby. There we grabbed a $1.29 banana (yeah, that's per ONE banana) and a coffee. We opted to drive over to the EPCOT parking lot. As in years prior, I joined the throng of people moving toward the corrals. This time was special, though, as I had my very best friend alongside me. This year, Disney opted to have the start occur in waves, as determined by your entry, not your projected time. We were in wave B. This is a great idea in theory; the problem is that it does not take into account a runner's ability. Thereby, the walkers were grouped with skilled runners, who were grouped with everyone in between. A course of Disney's (lack of) width should not start like this - I'd imagine it could potentially be dangerous for all. Regardless, we emerged unscathed, after a multi-part "shotgun" start (each wave got its own set of fireworks - very cool).

Chuck and I ran quietly beside each other. He was not interested in chatting and I respected that. His purpose was to finish - and mine was to offer support. There were times when I told him to remove his headphones and enjoy the ride. As we rounded the corner to Main St., I said, "Take your headphones off - this is what it's all about!!!" We saw our family almost immediately after the entrance into the Magic Kingdom but Chuck did not want to linger, so we kept moving through the familiar parts of the park and into new areas he'd never seen - behind Splash Mountain where floats stood idle and log-flume boats were stacked up against the fiberglass wall of the backside of the ride.

The race went quick - for me - and I did as I promised and kept pace with Chuck, prancing like a horse in view of the stable only at the 5k-to-go mark (which is when I generally get my "kick"). That was the only time I pushed him when he really was not able to be pushed, as he feared, but he gave me enough hairy eyeballs to keep me only prancing (literally) beside him and not bolting beyond him. Every now and again I'd run ahead and then turn back to stay with him and that seemed to assuage my need-for-speed instinct well enough. When we hit the finish line I cried and he looked stunned. I guided him through the finish line procedures - getting the chip cut off your shoe, getting wrapped in mylar to regulate your body temp and yes - leaning down to have your medal put on you (it's like the Olympics, 'cept the podium's pretty crowded).

Friday on the way to Orlando Chuck told me I should consider doing the Goofy Challenge next year which is the 1/2 on Sat and the full on Sunday. I said, "Oh hell no, I'm never doing the Disney marathon again!" I said that again on Friday afternoon at the Expo. This morning, I stood in the lobby of the hotel waiting for Gregory to pick out a pin and watched the athletes come in with their Mickey (full) medals and thought, "Phooey. I want one of those again!" When Chuck met up with us he said, "You feel FINE today - you could do that next year, easily!" and I agreed. So next year I am doing the Goofy Challenge. (I'm signing up tomorrow before I lose my resolve). The kids are excited! We are going to stay at the Polynesian and Chuck's going to do the 1/2 again which will help me keep my pace down a bit so I am ready for the full the following day. Chuck's parents are in, too - they had a blast.

ENCORE: The Walt Disney World Half Marathon January 7th, 2006

After the disappointing discovery that the WDW half was closed (just as I got up the gumption to try it!) I focused my attention on the Gasparilla half, which is in February. Then a girlfriend's happy news meant that she had an entry to the half that would go unused :), until she offered it to me!! So our families (her husband, who is also a runner but was sitting out this 1/2 as well, their daughter, along with my children and husband) made plans to spend the weekend in Orlando together.

We got a rough start on Friday, and omen-girl (me) was getting worried. We were supposed to leave at 12:30 but stuff kept popping up and preventing me from getting out of the house. I told my friend (and this is Pollyanna-ish, I know) that we must be being protected from something because so many roadblocks were getting thrown up for us!! We got to Orlando in 1:36 without speeding which is great time (and much better than last year's four hour road trip!)!! We headed to the Expo and made the mistake of complaining about the crowds/line. Ha! When we left, the line to packet pick-up had QUADRUPLED. We had no right to complain earlier...

The half marathon was moved to Saturday and the full was on Sunday. We got up at 4am and I was suprised to not be at all nervous. For large races of any size, there are corrals at the start, usually labeled with alphabetical letters. The elite are in corral A, and in order to be corralled in A you have to submit proof of time from a previous sanctioned race. B-H are based on the per-mile projection you yourself turn in with your registration. My friend likes to start in the back of the pack, so I was corralled in E. There was this guy who decided to strike up a conversation with me (old guy) who was making me want to snooze again and then somewhere in the conversation he said something along the lines of "slow runners like us". Well. I do think I credit him with how well I ended up doing. :)

It took me 13 minutes to cross the start, which is how crowded it was. Unfortunately, it was also narrow, and since I was corralled back with slower-than-me runners, I was doing a lot of two-stepping to get in with people of my pace. I got to the Magic Kingdom in about an hour. I ran down main street, desperately looking for my family, and then suddenly there they were ------- minus CHUCK! I said, "Where's your dad?" and they yelled, "the bathroom!" and I said, "Shut UP!" the woman beside them said, "All I've been hearing about is their mommy and then here you are and he isn't!" I said, "Well then, I'll wait!" and I did. I lost about 5 minutes waiting for him but I had been going so slow at that point I didn't care. When he got back and snapped a few pictures I said, "The course is narrow and I'm too far back. I'm doing a 10-11 mile but I know I'll finish easy." He checked his watch, nodded and said he'd see me at the finish line.

Right outside the MK was the 6.5 mile mark. I remember hearing, "You're half way through!" and thinking, "No way, that was easy!" and deciding to step it up. The route was low on crowd support and entertainment, so I started thinking about putting on my headphones and listening to my iPod. I felt really good, so I called Chuck on my cell and said, "I've made up a lot of time, get ready." He said, "I'm heading for the finish line now!" and I laughed and said, "Good, me too!" Then I put on my headphones and settled in for the ride.

Quickly, it seemed, the mile markers came up 8, 9, 10 -- at ten I thought, I have nothing to lose at this point; I know I'm going to make it well within the 3:30 cut-off, and if I get too fast or two winded I can slow down and walk. So I started picking up more and more speed, going faster and faster, up the overpass and into Epcot, and suddenly there was mile 12! I thought, Well heck, I know I don't have to run for any longer than 10 more minutes, let's make it shorter - and I don't remember much else. Chuck said I just flew over the finish, that he was hollaring my name but he never saw my face look so intense while racing, and that I obviously heard nothing. I usually approach a finish line gasping and memorizing my time; I had no idea what'd I'd run and I ran straight through the finish. The volunteers pamper you at the finish; they were handing out those mylar blankets and bringing water and Propel. I didn't want any of it, I don't know why. I think they only explanation is that "zone" they talk about. The bad part is that once you leave the "zone" all you need your creature comforts back, so by the time I left the finish area, I was cold, starving and thirsty. As I was negotiating out to the family reunion tents, Chuck called and shouted, "Holy &#*!, you were cruising! You came in 15 minutes sooner than the earliest I expected you! I got off the monorail, walked over and whoa - there you were!" He was so proud of me I started to cry. It's one thing to feel so wonderful and know you did the absolute best you could do and still feel great, it's another to have your very best friend be truly happy for you and proud of you.

So I collected Donald and off we went . The momentum of that morning just carried me through the weekend. Chuck is going to run Disney with me next year, which thrills me to pieces. I have another 1/2 in February and I am going to lose 20 pounds and actually train for this one, and see where it takes me.

More pictures...

PICTURES!

Running to Main Street (Mile 9).



Donald Duck and tired us :)



Photo finish!

Marathon Recap

This post is dedicated to my friend and training partner, Terra, without whom I’d have ever been able to accomplish this incredible milestone. Thank you, Terra, for helping me dig deep when I didn’t know I could. Thank you for listening to me, putting up with me, forgiving me when apologies were in order, and thank you for reaching for the stars with me! We went the distance, girl!!

GETTING TO THE MARATHON: We decided to go up the day of the expo, where we were to pick up our race materials. I had gone to bed early Friday night and we slept in somewhat, as I was not anticipating a lot of sleep Saturday night. Once we were up and rolling, we moved at a steady pace. A quick, celebratory breakfast at Cracker Barrel, and we were on our way! Unfortunately, our pace came to a screeching halt when a fatal accident on I-4 meant a 2+ hour delay for us (resulting in a 4-hour trip!). The road was closed at one point, and many of us milled around on the highway until it re-opened. When it did, we made fairly quick time to the Wide World of Sports complex, where the expo was held. I quickly worked through the lines to collect my race bib and Champion Chip, then started down toward the exhibitions to get my race shirt and discovered I’d lost my bib!! Frantic, we retraced my steps and found it in lost and found, but the error cost us a great deal of time and prevented me from touring the expo. We rushed to our hotel (Port Orleans Riverside) for check-in, and to my team meeting. The breathlessness and anxiety were both a good release and a concern: Were all of these problems just a bad omen??

PASTA PARTY: We loaded the busses: my husband and three sons, my training partner’s husband and four sons, and her parents. We were brought around the back of Epcot – behind the countries – and let out. We wandered, dumbstruck, through a special entry into Epcot. When we reached the event hall, we were greeted by cheering and noisemakers by our TNT staff members. I don’t know about Terra, but I think that’s when everything hit me. We were here. It was happening. Starting right now. We had a great meal and an inspirational program, and then headed back to the hotel. After doing some last-minute things which we shouldn’t have waited until the last minute to do (and which took longer than a minute!) we headed to bed. We set SIX alarm clocks to insure a 2:30 wake-up!

SUNDAY, JANUARY 9, THE DAY WE’D BEEN ANTICIPATING SINCE THE END OF AUGUST: Five out of the six alarm clocks greeted us, and we dressed quickly and got on the move. At 3:40am we loaded the busses to the start, our nerves jangling, our anticipation rising, but our smiles quick. Once at the staging area, we started moving in a huge, slow, leaderless pack toward our corrals. It was eerie and exciting. We found our corral (C), and stretched, danced to the music and took it all in. Time went quickly, and soon it was 5:55 AM and time for the wheel-chair start. At 6:00, fireworks replaced a traditional shot-gun start, and Disney characters waved us through. Soon enough, we were at mile marker 1. My mind started playing tricks with me when the official clock read 00:15:00. Fifteen minutes for the first mile?? We’d never make this!! Panic set in. Terra reminded me that there had been a delay to the start, and assured me we’d re-figure our pace at mile 2. And then suddenly, there it was – mile 2! Eleven minute miles – right on pace. Satisfied and happy, we settled in, cheerfully making friends, taking in the sights, remarking at our stamina and feeling very, very good. One by one we picked off those first miles – 3, 4, … 9. We ran through the Epcot parking lot and spotted our cheering families. Boosted all the more, we turned our enthusiasm to the upcoming Main Street, USA stretch, just after mile 10. At mile 10 the thing I’d worried about most came to pass; the only problem was, it came 7 miles sooner than I expected. It was my knee – it hurt, and it hurt badly. I kept it to myself for about ¾’s of a mile, but just before we rounded the corner to Main St. I told Terra. Mom that she is she said, “Well, there is no crying in The Magic Kingdom!” We turned the corner and WOW! Imagine, you’ve decided to run the Disney World Marathon. Imagine, following your dream, training your heart out, getting up at 4:30 in the morning to run around the block a few times all in anticipation of this moment. If you’ve been imagining this for four months, more than likely this – this – was the moment you’ve been imagining. And to top it off, there they were, cameras in-hand, water at the ready: Our families. The pride that they wore was evident, and Terra’s mom was crying. It was a magical moment in a magical place. We moved on, through the park, around Tomorrow Land and through the Castle. We carried on, running with “the half-ers” as they’d been called – those blessed runners getting ready to cross their finish line. We kept hearing “almost done” – and those words intended for them cut into our psyche and morale. We cheered their accomplishment as they broke away from us and suddenly we were on our own. Down past the Grand Floridian where staff members dressed as brides and grooms cheered and called us by name. Down to a desolate road which smelled of sewage. At mile 14 we were offered BioFreeze (which I took copious amounts of and then slathered over every exposed muscle). Pre-marathon reading taught me that “the teens” would be tough. I was prepared for tough, but this was tough. Terra was strong as an ox, working me past the pain that screamed at me from my knee, helping me fight through the mental shut-down that I was experiencing. She could have easily picked off many runners at that point, and I still feel bad that my weakness might have led to her own experience “in the ditch”. The stop-go-stop-go I was calling for took its toll on her, but I was afraid my body wouldn’t let me make the trek if I didn’t rest it. It was frustrating and unpleasant, but we worked on. At mile marker 20, my spirits lifted. A 10K remained, that was all. Remembering how I’d loved the 10K we’d done Thanksgiving Day, I set the course and my spirits began to soar. True to our training, my improvement coincided with her decline. Seeing that she was taking a bit of a mental dive, I forced myself to get out of the ditch and to pull her with me. We both took a dive when we reached what I’ve heard another marathoner call “the road to hell” – a 2-mile turn-around point between Animal Kingdom and MGM. Right before that turn-around, though, I had run into a TNT coach from another team. He read my face and knew I wasn’t “right”. I complained about my knee and he worked the pain out somewhat. Then he offered to show me a simple stretch, which my mind could not grasp. My struggle prompted him to suggest salt, which I consumed like the salt before a tequila shot. That fortuitous encounter easily bought me the rest of the race – renewed, we ran toward MGM and the last miles of the race.
MILE 23, 24, 25 and 26: These miles were hard to achieve. Beginning at MGM – the 5k mark – we started to hear “you’re almost done!” “You are almost done” to a vacationing family from Kansas standing there with Mickey ears and a fanny pack is not the same as it is to a marathoner. We were not “almost done” until we could see the finish line, and that was still miles away. We had to keep regrouping: We are just running through Heritage Springs (6 miles), just a quick neighborhood 5k (3 miles), just one quick loop around the neighborhood (1.7 miles). Still, the mind games weren’t helping. We trudged along… out MGM, through the Boardwalk, alongside a resort pool full of splashing people. Down the walkway from the Boardwalk to Epcot, the soft, pliable wood a welcome relief to our sore joints and muscles – and suddenly, the ball was in sight. That ball: our goal! Into the park, we began to run country to country: Germany, China, Mexico. Each step was agony, each goal marker harder to reach. Past the ball – where’s the finish??? Then suddenly – MILE 26! I burst into tears – which were expected – what I did not expect was the fact that doing this while pushing my cardio system would cause me to almost hyperventilate. Oh wow – what if I hyperventilated and passed out at mile 26 and got carried in? I caught my breath, and prepared for landing. We passed a robed gospel choir singing as hard as we were running, turned a corner and there it was – the finish line. We did it. WE DID IT!!

ALL WE WANTED: My sister called as I was receiving my medal – which was fantastic. It felt like she was with me. Chuck called shortly thereafter and I got the impression it would be many long minutes before we saw them. We were heart-heavy – all we wanted was them. But then suddenly, there they were – our cheerleaders, our supporters, these men and children who’d sacrificed their wives and moms for all those hours of training. Those parents and husbands and children who’d spent an unseasonably hot January morning chasing spectator spot after spectator spot with throngs of other onlookers. That moment was all we’d ever wanted and we basked in it. We took pictures and headed off to The Rain Forest Café for a celebratory meal.

We did it. We did it we did it we did it. And it feels so good.