Shamrock 8k: Running my own Race 

As much as I love pacing my training team and supporting on race day, I have discovered that in order to push my teammates, I need to push myself. Since I’d be on the sidelines during the half and full marathon on Sunday, I took the opportunity to race the 8k on Saturday. 
I had two goals: PR (sub 44:09) and run faster than I did at the Wicked 10k (8:39 pace). 

I didn’t taper. I didn’t prepare for this race. The day before I worked from 6:30am until 9:00pm. There was a lot stacked against me and if I wanted to look for an excuse to have a bad race, there was a lot I could have grabbed a hold of race morning. 

Quite frankly, I’m sick of not PRing. I’m sick of having mediocre races. I was either going to hit my goal, or I was going to crash and burn. I was going for it. 

Race morning I took my place in the second corral with my kickass friend Karen by my side. She was ready to be my reality check if I started to falter. In front of me in corral 1 was my husband. Given the day and our own individual races, I knew he had a great shot at beating me for the first time. I also had a shot at catching him. 

Karen and I started fast. Heading south we had the wind in our face. We both laughed knowing I was too fast for a conservative start, but sometimes you just have to roll with it. The first 3 miles felt like work, but in a five mile race I knew I needed to work the entire race. 

8:26 8:39 8:44


After mile 3, I was freed from the boardwalk. I may have let out a primal moan as Karen and I made our way North. I was ready to be done. At mile 4, my teammates had created an epic cheer zone. I felt like a celebrity. 

8:33

As I hit my last mile, I felt the all to familiar feeling of panic. My head started spinning. Breathing felt impossible. For the first time ever in a race I said out loud “I need to calm myself down”. As soon as the words left my mouth, my anxiety followed. I had acknowledged it, and I had let it go. Mile 4 felt awful and amazing all at the same time. I knew a PR belonged to me. 

8:20

As soon as I crossed the finish line, I saw my husband’s smiling face. I had forgotten about him on the course as I ran my own race, but was curious to see who won the Maute show down. 

Run pretty

The race wasn’t even close. He destroyed it with a finish time of sub 40 (sub 8 minute miles). Christian is the official owner of the fastest Maute crown.  Not too shabby for a guy who ran 11 minute miles a year ago. 

My official time: 42:40 (8:33 pace). A new PR and a perfect set up for my half marathon next month. 


While the PR and the pace feel amazing, I’m even more proud of my ability to mentally overcome the panic that normally takes me down. The wheels didn’t fall off. I’ve got this! 

“On a given day, a given circumstance, you think you have a limit. And you then go for this limit and you touch this limit, and you think, ‘Okay, this is the limit’. And so you touch this limit, something happens and you suddenly can go a little bit further. With your mind power, your determination, your instinct, and the experience as well, you can fly very high.” ~Aytron Senna 

31 days until the Coastal Delaware Half Marathon. With Shamrock behind me, I plan on being selfish with my running for the next four weeks to see what my legs (and my head) can do for a half marathon. The goal is the same as always! Sub 2. 

Fancy. Just for us!

Shamrock Marathon 2017: Strong, Smart and Brave 

“Be strong enough to stand alone, smart enough to know when you need help, and brave enough to ask for it.” ~Mark Amend 

If I could pick the shape of my heart, I’d draw a shamrock in the middle of my chest. Shamrock Marathon weekend is my heartbeat. It’s the place I discovered my strength. Over the course of 13.1 miles in 2010, I became the narrator of my own life. Prior to that race, I lived the life I thought I should love. After I crossed that finish line, I began to live the life I wanted. Shamrock Marathon weekend empowers me year after year. 

This year my shamrock story began to take shape as I stood on the sidelines of the Richmond marathon last November. I witnessed “coaches” running up and down the course encouraging their runners. The moment I saw it, I knew that was the role I wanted to own race weekend. 

It didn’t take much convincing for my coach  to say yes. In fact I think he said yes before I finished asking. My friend and fellow pacer, Steve and I would strategically place ourselves outside Fort Story before mile 10 and mile 23 of the Shamrock half and full marathon. 

Race morning arrived along with terrible weather. You won’t read a race report that doesn’t talk about how the cold/rain/snow/sleet/hail/gail force winds impacted everyone’s race. As course support, I couldn’t let this impact me. I packed multiple outfits, extra shoes, and four coats. I needed to be ready. 

My job as a spectator started with the half. I watched the first half of the race head north from 80th street. With enough time to catch the front runners, I made my way to 89th street. This is when my real work began. It was time to run with my team. 

Our fast runners came through. Tucked in with pace groups, they looked strong. I knew the race belonged to them. One by one my teammates came off the fort. They arrived faster than I expected. 

Every half marathoner looked strong. They were focused. They had fight. Not a single one faltered. Steve and I ran up and down Atlantic Ave between 89th and 82nd street running with our teammates and cheering on every other racer. It was a tough day, and if I could give someone a boost of energy, I was going to do it. 

As the last half marathoner came through, the weather took a turn for the worse. Maybe it had already been that bad but when I was running with my team I was oblivious to the weather. When I stopped moving and waited for the marathoners to make their way to us, my body began to falter. Wet, cold, shivering, and a slight shade of blue, Steve and I took cover under a tree. Time stood still, and the ugly doubt that creeps in on race day found me. Trembling, I wasn’t sure I could endure several more hours of the weather.  Steve saw me falter, and like a true friend and pacer he came to my rescue. He was able to move my car from 80th to 89th so I could remove my wet layers, blast my heat, and warm my body up. He took over so I could stop shaking. 

Next year we need the tree to provide more rain coverage

Our first marathoner came through. Seeing Steve run with our dear friend unfroze my brain. I had a job to do. I put dry socks on my feet, layered on clothes that felt the least wet, and I resumed my position on the course. 

The marathoners needed us more than ever. By Mile 23, everyone hurt. Everyone was frozen. Everyone had doubts. Everyone wanted to be done. My job was to shower them with positivity and praise as they attacked their final 5k. 

One by one Steve and I ran with every runner. The race course felt like a ghost town. Unlike the crowded half, the marathon felt empty. The familiar faces of our team were easy to spot. We tied shoes. We opened Gus. We dug water bottles out of camelbaks. We ran. We high fived. We didn’t stop until we found our last runner. 

After nearly 8 hours of running with our team, Steve and I had crossed our finish line. The race was done. 

All that is left is the course sweeper!

While the logistics of the day are easy to describe, the emotion of the day keeps slipping away from my finger tips. I got to witness everything. I saw hope and strength. I saw gratitude and fight. I saw desperation and panic. I saw courage. I saw the spirit of what it means to be human for 8 hours, and for a moment I was able to add positivity to someone’s day. 

While every single runner responded to Mile 10 and Mile 23 in a different way, there was one common theme amongst all my teammates. When they were at their edge and at the point of breaking, they all had one question. They wanted to know how everyone else was doing? They wanted to know if a teammate and friend was on pace for their goal. They wanted me to know a teammate was right behind them. They told me what they were wearing so I wouldn’t miss anyone. Everyone was more concerned about a teammate then themselves. At their lowest, my teammates wanted to make sure their teammates were given the support they needed. 

I learned more than I ever thought I would on Sunday, and yet I saw once again the same lesson every marathon I’ve ever run has been trying to show me. It doesn’t matter how fast or slow you run. It doesn’t matter how many miles you conquer. 

Strength matters. Be strong enough to stand alone. 

Being smart matters. Be smart enough to know when you need help. 

Bravery matters. Be brave enough to ask for help. 

Collectively our entire team was strong, smart and brave on race day. This is the magic of our team. We are our best when we are together. 

And just like that, the season is over. The bad weather moved out. The sun started to shine as the finish line came down. Spring is here, and we all endured more than we every thought we could. 

So long Shamrock 2017! This year we learned there is nothing we can’t handle. 

Until next season….

Cancer Better Run

“The only credential the city asked was the boldness to dream. For those who did, it unlocked its gates and its treasures, not caring who they were or where they came from.” ~Moss Hart

On November 5, 2017, I’m taking my dreams to New York City. Twenty six point two miles through all five boroughs is waiting for me. Truth be told, the New York City Marathon has never been on my bucket list. I’m not a city girl. But when my friend Karen started dreaming during one of her rounds of chemotherapy about how she was not only going to beat cancer but how she was going to help other people beat cancer too, her dream became my dream too.

Through out the course of Karen’s chemotherapy, we shared more miles than we ever had. Cancer slowed her down enough to be my perfect running partner. Together we crushed the Crawlin Crab Half Marathon. With our partner in crime Steve,  Karen and I ran from the Richmond 8k. Chemotherapy on Friday. Race day on Saturday. When Karen started dreaming of running the New York City Marathon for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, I knew I needed to be beside her.

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Richmond 8k

 

Cancer Better Run was born.

Karen, Steve, (fancy) Karen, and I have teamed up to conquer Cancer and this marathon. Our dreams are big. We have 10 months to raise $14,000 dollars to earn our spot at the start line. We have 10 months to prepare our bodies for 26.2 miles. We have 10 months to celebrate Karen’s fight.

Every single person on our team has been touched by cancer, and Karen has defeated it. The New York City Marathon is so much more than a race. It’s a celebration. It’s a start line. It’s a finish line. Its our way of celebrating life and making a difference.

Training for a marathon is hard. It’s a huge sacrifice of time and energy, but it is always worth it. Fundraising is hard. It’s a huge sacrifice of time and energy, but it is always worth it. Combining both is a guarantee that this year is going to be grueling and exhilarating.

If the quote above is true, the only credential the city asks for is the boldness to dream, then our team, Cancer Better Run, is well on its way to unlocking the gates of New York and our fight against cancer. Treasure is ours to claim.

Please donate to our team page here: Cancer Better Run

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Cancer Better Run

The Year of Waking Up

Every season of life I gravitate towards a new word. I’ve lived them all. Let it go. Rooted. Breathing room. Thrive.  I am strong. And so many more. More often than not my seasons of life are attached to a training cycle. 

Running imitates life. 

Life imitates running. 

As I welcomed the new year, I also welcome a new training cycle. The goals are the same, but I knew I needed a mental change. Chasing sub 2 hours in the half marathon has grown stale. Three years of the same goal supported by a ton of mental growth and maturity (but no PRs) makes the goal less exciting. I’m not chasing numbers anymore. I’m chasing feelings. 

I know when I’ve run a strong race. I don’t need a time clock to validate my effort, but I’d be lying if I said I’m not frustrated with not pushing my potential. 

Now is the time to layer back in consistent training. Now is the time to layer back in the drive and motivation to make my training plan work. I’m notorious for hitting snooze instead of waking up long before sunrise. When I get home from work, life happens. Homework. Dinner. Family. 

I’ve come to recognize the gaps in my training, and while discussing it with my coach this week I mentioned that I needed to find the spark that would get me out of bed in the morning. I needed my word. 

No sooner then I set out to find it, it found me too. In fact I’d argue that I already had it. 

“Awakening is not a thing. It is not a goal, not a concept. It is not something to be attained. It is a metamorphosis. If the caterpillar thinks about the butterfly it is to become, saying ‘And then I shall have wings and antennae,’ there will never be a butterfly. The caterpillar must accept its own disappearance in its transformation. When the marvelous butterfly takes wing, nothing of the caterpillar remains.” ~Alejandro Jodorowsky

All I need to do is wake up and just be. 

As a dream chaser this concept can be hard. Just be. Just wake up and run. Don’t focus on a goal. Just run the day I’m given. It is all I need to do to succeed. 

As a working mom sometimes the hardest thing for me to do is to be 100% committed to a training plan. There are philosophies and approaches that work for everyone in every stage of life. It’s never one size fits all. There is also a difference between making excuse and prioritizing life appropriately. It’s all a delicate balance. 

This year my goal is to make sure I’m throwing my rock in the right direction which means I need to find the right space for my running. If I’m going to push my potential, it’s time to quit hitting snooze on my alarm and on my running. It’s time to wake up. 

#trainjanda. My support system.

Why does this even matter? 

Because running imitates life. 

Life imitates running. 

Waking up is so much more than doing mile repeats in the dark. Waking up is an enhanced form of living. It’s mothering with an awake heart. It’s loving with an awake heart. It’s living with my eyes open. 

“Once the soul awakens, the search begins and you can never go back. From then on, you are inflamed with a special longing that will never again let you linger in the lowlands of complacency and partial fulfillment. The eternal makes you urgent. You are loath to let compromise or the threat of danger hold you back from striving toward the summit of fulfillment.” ~John O’Donohue

Welcome to my year of waking up. 

Sea Isle, NJ with my girls

Surf n Santa 5 Miler. Do you Believe?

“From the standpoint of daily life, however, there is one thing we do know: that we are here for the sake of each other – above all for those upon whose smile and well-being our own happiness depends, and also for the countless unknown souls with whose fate we are connected by a bond of sympathy. Many times a day I realize how much my own outer and inner life is built upon the labors of my fellow men, both living and dead, and how earnestly I must exert myself in order to give in return as much as I have received.” ~Albert Einstein

On Saturday evening I stepped out of the Virginia Beach Convention Center to a sea of Santas. Our running community had shown up to attempt to set a world record. Could we join together to set a new Guinness Book World Record for the most Santa’s to finish a race?

Lost in the crowd, I was one of 5,025 Santas that ran the five mile route along our coastline. The previous record was set with 4,961 santas. While I was lost in the crowd, I mattered. Every single one of us mattered. Together we set a new record.

📷: Chelsea Nuzum

 

While it may seem to be a silly task, showing up and running a race dressed up wearing a Santa Suit for the sake of a world record, the truth is it was so much more.

The truth is showing up matters.

The truth is we are stronger together.

The truth is life is better when living light hearted.

The truth is believing in the magic of Santa is what allows us to set a record: world records, personal records, and life records.

📷: J&A Racing

 

Every single person who showed up to the race on Saturday believed we had a chance at setting the record. By mile two when I was dripping with sweat and desperate to remove the hot polyester suit, I left it on. I kept running. I pushed through the last hot and hard miles because I trusted that every other person on the course was also committed to running in their suit. I could have slowed down. I could have stopped to embrace the lights on the boardwalk, the gingerbread stop, or the candy cane giveaway, but I kept going. As much as I wanted to set this record for J&A Racing, I also wanted to do it for me.

This year I have worked hard to believe in my voice and my ability. I’ve worked even harder to share them with my community. I’ve worked hard to recognize that even if lost in the crowd, my voice matters. Slowing down wasn’t an option (for me). Not today.

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#trainjanda

 

“Life isn’t worth living, unless it is lived for someone else.” ~Albert Einstein

While I was only one of the 5,025 Santas on the course, the record wouldn’t have been set without me. While my voice is just one in a world of billions, my world wouldn’t exist without it.

In the true spirit of the season, the more I love the better our world becomes. The more we show up, put on our Santa suits, push through hard, finish what we start, and chase down new records, together we will change the pulse of the world.

There are so many world records begging for us to beat them. Grab you Santa suit. We’ve got work to do. It all starts with one person believing, and it becomes possible when 5,025 commit and believe too.

As we enjoy the holiday season, ask yourself what you believe in.

Race stats:

Official finish time – 45:25, 642/5221, 39/461 age group

Splits – 8:52, 9:04, 9:07, 9:17, 8:47

Norfolk Harbor Half Marathon

“The more I pushed myself in running, the more I discovered the weaknesses of my mind. These were the same dragons lurking in my life. To compete is to voluntarily come into contact with your dragons so you can learn to slay them.” ~Lauren Fleshman

After watching my husband, my parents, and my son compete in the Norfolk Harbor 5k and 1 mile race on Saturday, I felt completely overwhelmed. All the race nerves I didn’t feel the entire week flooded my body.

Watching my husband set another new PR (and inching closer and closer to my very own5k PR) filled me with motivation. Nearly a year ago, he was overjoyed by 10+ minute miles. On Saturday he ran in the low 8s. Seeing my dad smile as he crossed the finish line for the very first time in a sport he taught me to love validated everything I’ve been chasing. Seeing my moms joy as she ran reminded me why I love this sport. Witnessing the fight in Cole as he out kicked another boy for 2nd place fueled my competitive fire.

befunky-collage

As we left the race on Saturday morning, the motivation and surge of joy was quickly replaced by nerves. On Saturday I was a spectator. On Sunday it was my turn to compete. Having committed to competing (against myself) early this season, I knew there was only one goal to chase. Would Sunday be the day that I finally broke 2 hours in the half marathon distance?

I wanted it.

I was confident.

And when the nerves settled, I was ready.

I read Lauren Fleshman’s quote later in the afternoon on Saturday, and I wanted to shout out “Yes!”. I am competing (against myself) because this is how I always become a better version of myself. It was time to line up beside myself to see what work needed to be done.

There is no point in rehashing all my failed attempts at breaking the 2 hour mark on race day. I can tell you about every race. I can tell you when I fell apart. I can tell you what was going on in my life that left a void in my race day strategy. I can tell you what work I needed to do, and I can tell you what work I’ve done since each of those races. But none of that matters. Not really.

All that mattered was Sunday and the two hours and three minutes and ten seconds it took to get from the start line to the finish line.

I didn’t break two hours, but I won this race. In those 123minutes and nine seconds, I realized I’ve made it. I never let the dragons join me on the race course. When my ankle started hurting during the first mile, I thought “not today”. Today my ankle will not hurt. When my hip buckled at mile 10, I thought “not today”. My hip will not hurt today. When a doubt about my ability crept in, I thought “not today”.

I ran strong.

I felt in control.

I fought back when the wind knocked me over.

When the miles got tough, I kept going.

I finally didn’t fall apart in a half marathon.

I finally fought for my race regardless of time.

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Crossing the finish line was the exact opposite of what it’s intended to be. I am no where near finished. The finish line was my welcome home mat. The finish line delivered so much more than a finish time. I finished with the same group of friends I’ve been running with all season. Our team (J&A Racing and #team9ja) ran strong because we ran together. I finished fully aware that I gave my all to race day. I finished with a renewed sense of confidence in my own ability. I finished eager for so much more.

“A glimpse is enough to initiate the awakening process, which is irreversible.” ~Eckhart Tolle

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And if you’re curious, here is what my race looked like according to numbers:

8:56

9:15

9:12

9:07

9:05

9:02

9:13

9:12

9:20

9:26

9:25

9:22

9:11

Final push 9:01 pace (.4 miles according to my garmin)

Official Time: 2:03:09

Stay tuned. There is so much more to come. 

 

Finding my Why all over again

When I signed up for my first race as an adult, my Why for running was an easy one (if you haven’t watch Simon Sinek’s TEDtalk yet, do it!). With every single run I was proving to myself that I could run further than I thought I could. With every run I proved to myself just how capable I was becoming. My self doubt started slipping away.

Then I started running faster.

And I ran further.

My heart became the heart of a runner.

Race days were filled with personal bests. I was fulfilled. Over and over again, I was proving to myself and reminded myself that I was capable.

And then I plateaued as a runner. My times evened out. I conquered the marathon distance. I no longer had to prove to myself I was capable, because I grew to believe I could do hard things.

My Why shifted at the exact same time my life shifted. Nearly four years ago Christian and I walked through some tough times as we said goodbye to his dad and my aunt. Running became my healer. I ran to heal my heart. I ran to put myself back together.

And then I healed as much as one can heal after loss. I became inspired. I ran not to prove I was capable and not to heal a broken heart, but to become the best version of myself. I ran to polish my spirit.

Before I headed off to the Chicago Marathon last fall, I sat across from my running coach Jerry, and he gave me the best advice I could receive for that race. I was a little lost and a little defeated by life, and he knew it. He knew my goal for the race was to fall in love with running and life, and he provided me the advice to do it. 

Kristy the person has to show up to Chicago. Kristy the person has to run this race. Kristy the athlete isn’t invited to Chicago. I need to run light hearted. I need run for fun. I need to fall in love with the marathon all over again. One day Kristy the person and Kristy the athlete can run a race together. Chicago is not that race.

I took his advice to heart, I ran Chicago, and I returned home with a renewed love of running and a renewed love of myself. I was back on track.

After the Chicago Marathon, I was asked to be a pacer for the J&A Racing Training Team. My running focus shifted. I ran for my team. They became my why. Their goals became my motivation.

One year after Chicago, I’ve been looking at my race calendar, and I questioned my Why. Why did I want to run? Did I want to race?

When the J&A Racing Training Team kicked off in August of this year, our coach Ryan kicked off the season with one thought: Why do you run? Cards were distributed. We all listed our motivation to run except for me. I didn’t write anything on the card. It was intentional. I no longer knew my WHY.


To prove I was capable no longer fit me as a runner. I am capable.

To heal a broken heart no longer applied. I am whole.

To find joy in my spirit didn’t motivated me. My life is filled with joy.

To run for my pace group was a shortcut. I was cheated them if I didn’t challenge myself.

WHY do I run today?

My card was left blank.

I didn’t have my answer when the season started, but when the jar full of cards resurfaced at our last training run on Saturday my heart finally knew my answer. I found it this season through my running coach Ryan, through pacing, and by racing the Wicked 10k.  Before the Wicked 10k, I sat down with my journal and I created my vision for race day. I found the words that spoke to me the most, and I made them my own.


I ran my way to my Why at the Wicked 10k. That finish line was the start line of this new chapter.

Why do I run? I run to share my spirit, to share my story, and to share my passion. This is what inspires me to be my best. This is what keeps me fighting when my mind wants to quit. I am alive when I run and when I race. I am capable when I run. I am whole when I run. I am filled with joy when I run. I’m inspired when I pace. Now is my season to share my spirit.

Running always deliveries me to where I  belong. With every race that I have on my calendar over the next year, I have one goal: to run exposed, to let myself be seen, and to share my spirit. It’s what I have always done, but never before have I had a platform for which to share it like I do now. I can use my running to tell my story.

It’s time to enjoy letting my spirit shine!!!!

Running is a gift. Tonight as I ran 3 easy miles after work, I realized just how much I love running. Life is a continuous flow between moments of doubt our capabilities, heartbreak, and joy. Running is my thread that weaves it all together. Running allows me to live my life. Running allows me to share my story. 

Sunset views

 

Once upon a Wicked….

In every fairytale there is a moral of the story. Tucked between “once upon a time” and “happily ever after” is a life lesson waiting to be learned. This weekend was no exception. Tucked between the Wicked 10k and the Monster Mile was a moral to race day that led to happily ever after. Perhaps life really is a fairytale.

The anticipation leading into race weekend was intense at times, but I had a race plan. I was feeling confident. My family was ready. All four of us would be competing again. Christian and I ran the Wicked 10k. The boys ran the Monster Mile.

Once upon a time, it was the night before race day…

As bedtime neared on Friday night, I took a mental stumble. A few clicks on Facebook, and I found myself facing details from my past that shook me once again. It happened fast, and I felt my body fill with panic. I knew it was time to go to bed before my emotions got the best of me. My sleep was broken at best. Dreams kept me awake. Anticipation of racing left me tossing and turning.

It’s felt like forever since I’ve toed the light hoping to fight.

Morning preparations and the drive to the race also left me tripping over myself mentally. My race felt doomed.

A few deep inhales and intentional exhales cleared my mind. I was ready. Christian and I went our separate ways. It was time to race. It was time to run forward.


The race details…

I lined up in Corral 1 surround by friends. Our pack of wolves was ready to run. I was lucky enough to have two Steves promise to get me to the finish line fighting. They stuck by my side the entire race, and they made sure I fought. Before the race started, Steve #1 stole my garmin. I was running blind. All I had to do was follow Steve #1 and Steve #2.

Mile 1 felt fast. My legs felt heavy.

Mile 2 I found my sweet spot: working hard but feeling confident.

Mile 3 I focused on being entertained by the costumes in the crowd. (Steve #1 may have yelled QUIT THINKING just as I was getting lost in my own brain.)

Mile 4 lasted forever.

Mile 5 hurt incredibly bad.

Mile 6 took every ounce I had to keep going.

The final .2 I opened up and finally trusted Steve #2 that I had more to give. I should have listened sooner. I had maybe another ounce to give.

Steve #1 and Steve #2

I crossed the finish line exhausted, aching, and so so proud. I’ve never run a race that hurt from step one to the finish line the way this race hurt (in a really really good way). I’ve never sat on my edge for an entire race. I’ve never trusted my body so much. I’ve never allowed myself to rely on people to show me my strength. I’ve never fought for my potential as much as Saturday.

 

Terrible photo but I kind of love it

Moral of the story: If you want to be strong, surround yourself with strong people. Life is a mental game, and if you surround yourself with people who believe in your strength as much as you, everything is possible if you’re willing to fight for it.

 

Shortly after I crossed the finish line, my husband crossed the line far faster than I had expected. He soared through his first ever 10k (the longest distance he’s ever run) in a time I only dreamed of running just a few years ago. We I first met Christian, he told me he couldn’t run because it hurt his knees. A few years later, he started running. He told me he wasn’t a runner because he only ran for beer. This weekend he not only ran, he raced and crossed the finish line 56:39 (9:07 pace). Sounds like he’s a runner to me!

After our 10k, we were joined by our boys who individually ran their own amazing race in the Monster Mile. Cole was the second runner to cross the finish line, and Chet ran nearly the entire mile. Both boys soared.

wickedcollage
#mauteornice

 

The rest of the day was a celebration of this new running family that seems to be thriving more and more each day as we tackle races together. Our happily ever after may have a pair of running shoes attached to it.

Three more weeks until we get to do it again at the Norfolk Harbor Half Marathon Race Weekend.

(And for you folks that like numbers, my Splits: 8:29, 8:42, 8:36, 8:41, 8:36, 8:37, 8:04 final push. Official finish time: 53:45, 8:39 pace)

#trainjanda

Running Forward

I want nothing more than to conquer the race course. I want to push past the pain and the discomfort of running hard. I want to overcome the voice in my head that begs me to find my comfort zone.

I want to thrive.

This week is a race week for me. The Wicked 10k is a mental tune up for the races that are on my radar over the next six months. I’m scared. I’m nervous. I’m afraid on race day I won’t be enough. These fears have haunted me for at least three years. In some capacity they have haunted me my whole life.

The first time I failed to run a sub 2 hour half marathon, my confidence was rocked. It was the first time since I started running as an adult that I fell terribly short of my race goal. It was the first time I didn’t have the satisfaction of success. If you look at my race history, 2013 is a year filled with PRs and heartbreaks; thriving and falling short.

The truth is I’ve been fighting myself ever since I ran that failed sub-2 race in 2013. It’s been a tug of war battle between comfort and courage. I’ve beat myself up for not conquering courage. I’ve beat myself up for chosing comfort one too many times.

The truth is the tug of war battle between comfort and courage lasts a lifetime. You don’t choose courage once, and it automatically becomes your mindset. With every choice you make, you are faced with a decision. Will I choose comfort or courage today? Will I choose comfort or courage during this race?

I’m done beating myself up. By focusing on a race from 2013, I’ve used all my mental energy trying to overcome a race that didn’t happen. I’ve been chasing a race clock that exists in the past. I’ve been trying to prove that I’m better than, stronger than, and faster than the girl who raced that year. I’ve been running backwards.

That girl isn’t here today. I am here. I am here with my whole heart. I am here as more than enough. I am here right now in this present moment. I am strong. I am unbreakable. I am enough. But I’ve been racing in the past. I haven’t been present.

I’ve been flirting with this lesson all year. This year has been a year of tremendous growth. It’s been a year of letting go and creating new. It has been a year of healing and living.

#team9ja. Stronger together.

On Friday I asked my coach for a race plan. I needed something tangible to wrap my head around to ease my fears. He delivered this life-lesson wrapped up in a simple sentence: I wouldn’t focus on your 2013 race as that seems like a lot of pressure. I’m not sure if he realized the magnitude of the message he just delivered, but he just captured the last three years of my racing (and perhaps life) in one sentence. I’ve been chasing my dreams backwards.

It’s time to chase all my dreams forward. It’s time to run for today. It’s time to show up at the start line knowing that today I am strong, I am unbreakable, and I am enough.

“Expire the past, inspire the present” ~my very own dear friend Enrica

I will always face the decision of choosing between comfort and courage. This weekend I will choose courage. This weekend I will race. This weekend the race clock will be a reflection of one day and one race, but it will be a celebration of continued growth in life. It will be a celebration of team and new dreams.

This season of running is the start of something new! This year I am thriving.

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