Beyond Fear

I never finished sharing my story from Peru. I don’t know why. It slipped away from me.  I fell back into the pattern of my daily life. I got reconsumed by parenting, work, grocery shopping, running, and finding pockets of quiet. The magic I felt in that country stayed inside of me, but I lost it in my day-to-day routine.

Our world is filled with a lot of fear these days. The events that fill our news have always been there, but we have sharpened our focus. The events in Paris have made us all stop and pay attention. In the midst of the terrifying news, I watched a segment where a dad explained the events to his young son. He told him to look at the flowers. The flowers were there to fight the guns. He told him to look at the candles. The candles were there to remember the people. In the simplicity of focusing on the good, I saw the fear physically leave his four-year-old body.

Peru and France are separated by more than six thousand miles, yet my mind keeps wandering to my last day in the Sacred Valley as I watch the world news. Just like the young boy turned to his dad for answers, I am turning to a point in time where the world felt like a celebration.

It was my tenth day in Peru. Homesick and heavy-hearted, I laid in bed wishing I could go home one day early. I had hiked Machu Picchu Mountain. I had explored ruins, ate local food, and stared at the stars. My heart was full, and I missed my family.

A stomach ache sent me to the lobby of my bed and breakfast. I was looking for comfort. Tea harvested from the vegetation in the B&B’s garden cured my stomach, and a conversation with the staff cured my heart. He opened a binder, flipped a few pages, and pointed to a place I needed to visit. I took his advice to find a sacred ruin not too far outside our small community. I would need to find a taxi to take me. Knowing my Spanish is nearly nonexistent, he wrote down instructions on a scrap piece of paper, I took a photo of the place he showed me in his binder, and I set off on my quest. He left me with one piece of advice: when you get there, ask the universe for what you need. The universe already knows what you don’t need, so ask for something that will make you feel whole.

My “street”

Taxis were always lined up in the main square in Ollantaytambo. Step one in my journey would be easy. As I walked down the cobblestone street towards the square, there wasn’t a taxi in sight. When I got to the square, the street that was normally filled with taxis was empty. Not sure of what to do next, I stood there. I stared at my piece of paper, and I stood there. How in the world was I going to find this place now that I was determined to go? I needed to visit this temple. I needed to make an offering to the universe. My soul needed the world to hear it.

A local policeman must have recognized the confusion on my face. He spoke to me in Spanish, and I was more confused. I handed him my piece of paper. He motioned for me to follow him. I followed him away from the square. I followed him down winding local streets. Minutes later I followed him into a local market. Me motioned to a man to join us. In Spanish they discussed something. I assumed he was telling him what I was hoping to do. After many reaffirming gestures, he introduced me to a man and handed him my piece of paper. Hand gestured communication continued. I wanted to go there. He would take me. I got into his personal vehicle with who I assume was his wife and daughter. My adventure began.

As we got further away from town, I started to second guess my decision. Who are these people? Where am I going? Am I crazy? Are they crazy? Fear crept in. I took notice of my surrounding. I made mental reminders of landmarks incase I needed to walk back to my B&B. The river is on my right. The mountains are to my left. As we arrived at a point where the road, railroad tracks, and the river all intersected, he stopped the car and motioned for me to follow him. I grabbed my backpack, and I followed. We followed the railroad tracks for at least a mile before we pushed through shrubs and bushes (avoiding cactus) and made our way up a mountain. The soil was loose. I slipped so many times. My legs were filled with fear. What was I doing? Where was I going?

Can you see it?

As I swallowed my fear, I finally looked up. In front of me was an unassuming temple. I would have walked past it. As I got closer to this temple built into the side of the mountain, I felt it. My eyes might have missed it, but the energy in the air would force anyone to stop.  I was overwhelmed by the peace I felt in the air. My fear melted. I sat in awe of this place that was filled with love and wishes. My questions turned away from fear. Curiosity took over. How many people journeyed to this spot? What were they searching for? How many dreams were offered to this universe? How many of those dreams came true? In that moment, I was the exact same as every person who stood in this exact same spot. Our eyes were the same. We all took in the otherwise unimpressive rock, but our hearts were also the same. We all knew this place was special. Our dreams are all the same.

As I travelled to this place, I knew exactly what I needed. I was going to ask the universe for strength. I wanted to feel strong. I wanted my heart to have courage. I wanted the universe to scoop me up and give me wings. In that moment, I realized I have wings. I have courage. I have strength. I just need to trust it. I need to trust the journey. I need to let go of the fear that causes me to look down instead of up. I simply need to look up. I have everything I needed. In that moment, I was filled gratitude that can not be defined. It was the same gratitude I felt as I stared at the newborn faces of my boys. It was the same gratitude I felt when I realized my husbands hugs made the world disappear. It was the same gratitude I feel when I let my guard down, and I welcome life.

Inside the Temple

I sat on the dirt floor of the temple looking to the valley below me, and I remembered I wasn’t alone. The family the brought me there laughed with each other. They told their daughter a story. They showed her the details of the temple. They searched each corner of the temple, and I sat there. I was paralyzed by my love for the world. I saw love in their faces. I saw gratitude in their interactions. I saw past the blinding fear that took me up the mountain, and I saw a family that is deeply rooted in love.

As we made our way down the mountain back towards the river, I saw a husband and a wife who flirted when their daughter wasn’t looking. I saw a dad who carried his daughter down a mountain on his shoulders. I saw a man who offered me his hand every time I slipped. As we pushed our way through the undergrowth on the mountain side, they motioned for me to stop. The cactus beside us was filled with fruit. Using a leaf as a glove, they pulled the spiking fruit from the cactus. They rolled the fruit around in the dirt to remove the needles. They used their fingernail to split open the shell, and then they offered me fruit on the inside. Hidden behind a guarded plant and thick sick, was one of the most delicious fruits I have ever tasted.










I spent the rest of my day with this family. They took me to local ruins scattered throughout the Sacred Valley. As I walked back down the cobble stone streets towards my Bed and Breakfast, I looked up towards the stars and whispered thank you. I almost spent the entire day in bed missing my family, but instead I found a family who reminded me of everything I need in life. It’s simple. In a community where most people don’t have running water in their homes, I found love and gratitude. In a community where people work hard all day so that they can feed their family, I found spirit and heart.


When Cole asks me if our world is going to war again, this is the story that I tell him. I tell him that our hearts can not be consumed by fear. We can’t stop looking up. We can’t stop feeling. We can’t stop giving our best. We need to see the flowers and the candles. We need to find the fruit inside the cactus plant. We need to offer our hand to someone as they lose their footing while trying to climb a mountain. Paris and Peru are separated by thousands of miles. The United States and Syria and every other country are separated by thousands of miles, but we are all the same. We are all standing on the same soil, staring at the same temple, sending our wishes into the universe. There is ugly in the world. There will always be ugly in the world, but we owe it to ourselves and our communities to see beyond the fear.


Expanding my Comfort Zone

“Nothing in the world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not; unrewarding genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated failures. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent.” ~Calvin Coolidge

Today I hit the “submit” button on the registration page of my fourth marathon. On April 9, 2016 I will tackle 26.2 miles again. It will be different this time. This race is like no other race I’ve run before. It will be 26.2 miles of trails along the Potomac River. 

I believe that marathons are filled with magic. I believe marathons are the place where my heart comes to life. 

As I ran the Chicago Marathon, I did something I’ve never been able to do in a race. I stayed positive. What could easily be considered a terrible race considering my marathon history and my fitness level, I found myself loving every mile. There were a few moments when the negative thoughts tried to creep in. At mile 14, I found myself think not yet. I wasn’t ready to feel so weak just yet. At mile 17, I found myself think I miss my husband. It was the first marathon I didn’t have him cheering on the back half of the course. (Ironically he was at mile 17. He ran all over town to get to that point which was never part of the plan. I never saw him.) At mile 22, I begged my legs to keep going because there was no way I was doing this for another hour. But as quickly as a negative thoughts surfaced – and there were so few in comparison to my training and my race history – I let it go. I welcomed the thought, and I let it pass through me. This marathon was my marathon to own. It was slow in comparison to anything I’ve run before, but my heart stayed a float. 


Missing this city already

The end result of that race was a healed heart, a happy spirit, and a deep desire to do it again. The Chicago Marathon left me hungry for so much more. How can I layer on speed? How can I push myself while keeping my heart engaged? I’m going to attempt to answer these questions this winter. While I have signed up for marathon #4, my goal for winter training is a speedy spring half. 

Marathon #4 won’t be about speed at all. Marathon #4 is about celebrating friendship. (I’ll be running with my best friend!) Marathon #4 is about adding fuel to my dreams. Marathon #4 is about finding the courage and the confidence to push myself out of my comfort zone and embracing the process. 

Winter is my season to shine! I can’t wait to tackle another season of training! 

Finding our balance: miles with Chet while he fishes

Scavenger Hunting

(October 23, 2015 – En Route to San Diego)

As we fly over the Grand Canyon, I know just to the north is a place that holds all of my heart. It is a love story that led us to Utah – a boy and girl fell in love and said “I do.” Two  days after our wedding, we headed to Utah. It was our love that took us there, but it is where we fell deeply in love. It’s where our loved gained roots. It has been our anchor. As I fly out west today, I want to jump out of this plane. I want my bare feet to be covered in red dirt. I want the vastness of the sky. I want the air at the top of the mountain.

Grand Canyon

My plane left Virginia Beach at 6:30am this morning, and I landed in Chicago as the sun was rising. It is a cloudy day in Chicago. As we made our approach into the airport my eyes searched the horizon for the skyline. I rediscovered a piece of my heart hidden in those city streets one week and five days ago. I wanted to see the skyline that pulled me to that finish line. As soon as I accepted that my only vision of Chicago would be the O’Hare airport, the sun escaped the clouds. A spotlight shined down on the city. Where are my running shoes?  Please let me run to that skyline one more time.

The month of October has felt like a scavenger hunt. Perhaps that is why I have been compelled to search the world outside of this flight craving Utah and the streets of Chicago. October has been a quest to find the brightest part of my soul. It started by returning to the town I was born in just north of Chicago. I attended a PQMD Meetinh (Partnership for Quality Medical Donations). Not only did I attend, but I participated. I contributed. On the second day of the meeting, I was asked to present. I came prepared. I had notes and a Powerpoint. I was ready to share my script. When I walked into the meeting, I realized I actually had no clue what I had signed up for. I wasn’t just presenting. I was sitting on a panel to discuss increasing access to healthcare around the world. What I had prepared would be the backbone of a conversation, but it wouldn’t be my script. As I listened to other panelists, I sat in awe of their accomplishments. Soon the microphone was pointed in my direction. In that moment something magical happened. The voice that came out of my mouth was confident. I had something to say. I floated somewhere above myself, and I was gifted one of those rare moments when I actually saw myself. I wasn’t distorted by fear or insecurity. I was the best, most authentic version of myself. I thrived, I was engaged, and I loved it.

I carried this with me onto the streets of Chicago. For 26.2 miles, I was the best, most authentic version of myself. I thrived, I was engaged, and I loved it.

Today I am sitting on a plane heading to San Diego. The scavenger hunt continues. I lived in San Diego for a few years shortly after I was born. More important than my toddler development, I also revisited San Diego as part of the trip with my family when I was twenty-one. It was on that trip that I read about medical volunteers in Cuba. It was after that trip that I put my adult life into action by accepting a proposal that squashed my dreams of returning to Cuba and ultimately lead me down the path of divorce. But it was that trip and all of my actions after that trip that carved out my soul. The last time I visited San Diego, I didn’t have any idea of the gifts I had hiding inside of me.

Fourteen years later, I’m on a plane amazed and grateful for my scattered soul. I’m amazed and grateful that this month has become such a pivotal month in my life. This scavenger hunt is perfectly timed. I’m picking up the pieces of my heart, not because it is broken, but because it is incredibly whole. My heart is complete so there is room for every lost piece I left scattered around the world over the past 35 years.

Sunset on the San Diego Bay

Every moment of life won’t contain the love of Utah. Ever mile won’t be as magnificent as the miles in Chicago. But for the first time, I have the confidence to work through it all. I have the confidence to use my voice, to trust the process, and to work with whatever life brings me.

Over the past 35 years, I’ve spent a lot of time telling myself to “Let it Go.” I needed to. It was a lesson I had to not only learn, but a lesson I had to live. I needed to let go of guilt and burden. I needed to let go of things I couldn’t control. As I complete this scavenger hunt, I’ve started a new chapter. I’ve learned something new about myself. I’m ready to accept wherever this path takes me. Instead of focusing on letting things go, now I want to scream “Let it come”. I’ve opened up my arms and my heart. Welcome life! I’m ready to live it!

Pacific Ocean

Chicago Marathon

Oh Chicago! A normal race recap doesn’t do this race justice because this race wasn’t about racing at all. This race was about heart. From the top of Machu Picchu Mountain in Peru to the finish line in Chicago, Jerry has been telling me that this race was about loving the marathon. I always believed him, but I took creative liberty to define “love” how I choose. At times love meant fast. At times love meant a personal best. At times love meant taking one too many photos on the trails.

After a perfect peptalk, Jerry sent me off to Chicago with one goal: ENJOY THE RACE!

I had a conference just north of Chicago the week prior to the race. Recently Operation Smile was accepted into an organization called PQMD (Partnership for Quality Medical Donations). It is a collaboration of nonprofits and corporates to establish and execute best practices of medical donations around the world. The meeting was filled with amazing people and organizations – people and organizations that are changing the world. I left the meeting on Thursday filled to the top with excitement and passion. It sharpened my focus at work, and gave me clear perspective on what is next. Not at all a bad way to approach marathon weekend.

Christian met me in the city along with a few favorite friends, and the next few days were spent eating, drinking, laughing, and taking in the sights of Chicago.

And then there was the marathon. This was my slowest marathon by far, but it was also my most enjoyable. I took my time. I took in the city. I felt the excitement. I embraced the marathon. It was when I sat back, and allowed myself to flow with the never-ending crowd of runners that I truly understood what Jerry meant when he told me this race was about loving the marathon.

This race was about embracing the marathon.

This race was about embracing myself.

This race was about embracing Chicago.

We left grant park and got pulled to the magnificent mile. I spotted Christian at mile 1.5 (earlier than I expected) and was more than happy to steal a kiss. I couldn’t keep my eyes from looking up. Running between the skyscrapers was amazing. At mile 2.5, I saw Christian again. One more kiss to send me north of the city. It was in the miles that took us north that I allowed my heart to settle. I just wanted to feel the entire race.

I allowed myself to be embraced by groups of runners. I allowed myself to observe the race. I allowed myself to slow down. This race was a constant flow of happiness.

My body started to fatigue around mile 14 (after another hello from Christian). I felt the lack of miles in my training, but my heart stayed happy. I gave myself permission to slow down even more. I checked on runners who looked like they were struggling, I high-fived spectators, and I kept going.

As I ran through one of the 29 neighborhoods, I saw runners in front of a building waving. I looked towards the direction of their hellos. We were running by a nursing home. Every window had a smiling face cheering us on. I waved hello too.

I meet a group of runners from Boston. We chatted about favorite races. They couldn’t stop raving about a race they ran in Virginia: the Harbor Lights Half Marathon directed by J&A Racing (my running coach!). They told me it is the only race they haven’t unsubscribed to emails from because they want to run it again, and he was quick to tell me they never run the same race twice.

As I made my way down through the final miles, I spotted a familiar face, Michele from NYCRunningMama. I only know her because I’m a fan of her blog. I hesitated before I said hello. Maybe I should just keep going? But this contradicted my entire plan to embrace the day. I quickly made my way across the street and introduced myself as a creeper. Before I could even finish my hello, I heard someone else shout my name. Just on the other side of Michele was Jess (from Paceofme) who has become a friend near and dear to my heart. I spent the last few miles catching up and laughing some more.

Before I knew it, the marathon was over. My heart was ten times bigger and 100 times lighter than when I started the race. It’s all still a blur punctuated by some really amazing moments. I can’t stop smiling when I think of this race. I feel so content, happy, and satisfied.

This race and this trip to Chicago brought me back to a place I’ve been chasing for two years. It gave me my love back. I have some really big running goals, and I can’t even begin to express how thankful I am that my running coach recognized exactly what I needed (even when I begged to focus on speed). I needed to slow down. I need to embrace this race. I needed to polish my heart.

Mission accomplished! I finished this race ready to do it all again. I can’t wait to add another layer to my training. The Chicago Marathon just gave me the foundation I needed.

My love of the marathon is back!

Rock n Roll Half Marathon Race Recap

I really don’t feel like writing this recap. In fact, I really didn’t feel like running yesterday’s half marathon. I knew it was a good time to run a race before Chicago, so I signed up. I also know that this race never leaves me feeling satisfied. But I showed up. And I ran. So I’ll write anyway because I know there is a silver lining in here somewhere. 

I set a modified goal for this race to execute my race plan for Chicago. The first four miles I kept myself in control. I consciously slowed my effort. I did my best to respect the weather. 

Mile 4-6 were a mental battle. Should I push? Should I take it easy? 

I started reading Brene Brown’s new book Rising Strong while we were on our mountain vacation. There is so much in that book that I need to absorb.  

I have become a master at reckoning. I am brilliant at owning my own story. I live it. I breathe it. I see, feel and recognize all my emotions. I know exactly how they connect to every aspect of my life. 

This is the space I ran in yesterday. This is the space I’ve been running in all summer (all year! For years!). Yesterday’s race actually had nothing to do with yesterday’s race. In fact, I doubt it has anything to do running at all. Running is never about running for me. Running is about life. Running is about living. Running is about breath. I often wish I could separate the two. I wish running could be just running, but that’s not how I’m wired. It’s not how I work. Right now I’m struggling to navigate The Rumble. I’m stuck in the middle. 

Mile 6-8 was a true rumble in my head. 

“We can chose courage or we can chose comfort, but we can’t have both.” ~Brene Brown

My friend Heidi wrote about this statement days before the race (read it here). These words hung on me during the race. I wanted to chose courage, but I picked comfort. I seem to always pick comfort these days. Miles 6-8 I tried to rewrite my story. I tried to write a different script for how my races have been playing out these days, but I picked comfort instead. 

If I’m being honest, I have no clue how to get to The Revolution. I’m stuck in The Rumble. 

Around mile 8, a familiar face appeared in the crowd. I jumped in beside her. I asked her what her goal was. She was right where she needed to be. So I happily ditched my internal battle and ran beside her. The last five miles are quite possible the most fun, I’ve ever had on a race. I drank a beer. I enjoyed Popsicles. I ran through sprinklers. I cheered my friend on as we ran up and over the final bridge. As we turned on to the boardwalk, I heard a woman coaching herself to the finish line. She was desperately pleading for the finish line to appear. I took one look over my shoulder, saw her struggle, and told her to come on. Run with me. We’ve got this. Stay beside me. You are going to finish strong. For the last mile I pulled her with me. My heart swells as I think about that moment. As soon as she finished she let out a thank you and tears. It was her first half marathon. She had cramping at mile 6. And then with a simple statement, she reminded me of why I love running – I just pushed through it. And somehow it passes. Somehow your body just works through it. 

Most days I feel like I’m nearly drowning in The Rumble. What is truth? What is self protection? What needs to change ? 

If yesterday has a silver lining hiding inside of it, it is this: I know what needs to change. I need to get out of my head. I need to find the celebration in my own race. I need to push through it. I need to trust that somehow my body will work through it. 

I am still struggling to squash the disappoint I have in my ability to preform in race day, but I know this is all part of the  process. 

If we are brave enough, often enough, we will fail…

The truth is that falling hurts. The dare is to keep being brave and feel your way back up.” ~Brene Brown

The journey is hard, I may struggle a lot, but there is no other way I want to live my life than with my whole heart. 

Yesterday’s race is proof that I can live through the entire process. I lived it all: the reckoning (miles 1-4), the rumble (miles 4-8) and the revolution (miles 8-finish). 

Maybe I do know how to do this! 

Tomorrow is a fresh start, a new week on my training plan, and a very exciting new chapter for our family. Cole’s middle school adventure begins, and I have another chance to rewrite how my story will end. I have another chance to live this life with my whole (messy) heart. 

Best spectators in town

The Middle of the Mountain

We went to the mountains to disconnect and reconnect.  We went to getaway before the school year starts and the busy fall schedule begins. We went to breath in the fresh air. I had big plans for this trip. I had visions of days filled with hiking and evenings spent by the fire roasting marshmallows. We would all come home feeling united as a family and fully refreshed. But that isn’t how family vacations go. Family vacations (at least our family vacations) have a way of magnifying every area of weakness and every area we neglected this past year. 

The weekend was punctuated by Chet’s meltdowns. Welcome to 3. Bedtime was a disaster (same as at home). Getting him to eat was a disaster (same as at home). Getting him to not run off the side of a mountain wasn’t a disaster (fortunately), but it did result in a temper tantrum somewhere between the top of the mountain and the trail head. 

While we climbed that mountain, I worried Cole wasn’t having fun. I was afraid Christian would want to spend the rest of the weekend alone. I worried other hikers would judge us based on the level of noise we brought with us. I just wanted everyone to get along, so I intervened, I reacted, and I lost my patience. I walked a half mile back to the trailhead while everyone told me to come back. I was ready to pack up cabin and head back to the beach. 

“The middle is messy, but it is also where the magic happens. ~Brene Brown

After some persuading, I turned back around to finish our climb. When we finally made it to the top, two miles and 1500 feet later, we all started to head back down.  But wait! We made it! Let’s enjoy it! 


We took off our packs. We sat on a rock. We enjoyed the view. Christian and I let out a collective sigh that we managed to keep both kids alive on the climb up. The view of the mountains eased the tension in my shoulders. We made it. 

I wish I could say I absorbed the lesson I learned on the mountain that day. I wish I could say the rest of the vacation was exactly as I had envisioned. But Chet still had meltdowns, bedtime was still hard, and meals didn’t go as planned. But a whole lot of good happened over the past four days. Cole and Christian kayaked. The boys caught fish. I ran a mountain! Christian biked a mountain. A hammock, a few sticks and a firepit provides hours of entertainment. The boys played along the shore of the lake. Alex got his fill of sniffing and marking trees. Smores were enjoyed. 

After Cole finished kayaking around the lake, I turned him around and told him to look at the mountains. You climbed to the top of that! He’s eyes got big. He took pride in his sore muscles. He responded by saying I climbed all the way up there. It put the weekend in perspective. 

We went to the mountains to disconnect and reconnect as a family. It wasn’t picture perfect. It was real life. While I thought I’d come home feeling relaxed and inspired, I’m not. Instead I’m coming home with a renewed energy to invest in myself and my family. I’m coming home with a new appreciation for what it looks like and feels like to live life in the middle moments. I’m coming home with perspective. 

Right now we are all living in the middle moment of life. Cole is heading off to middle school. Chet is navigating the middle of toddler development. Christian and I are in the middle phase of life. The middle is hard. It’s past the excitement of new, yet the finish line seems so far away. There are days I wonder what in the world I got myself into. There are days I want to rewind and try again. But we keep going. We keep climbing. Because in the middle of all this hard, something magical is happening. We are getting stronger. We are become united. We are becoming a polished version of ourselves. 

As we walked in the front door after our five hour car ride home, Chet announced I’m so glad we went on vacation. I can’t believe I climbed that mountain. 

Me too buddy! Me too! 



Training for Chicago has been a constant struggle of highs and lows and rarely anything in between. Last Tuesday I finished my strongest workout so far this training cycle. I felt strong, confident and in control the entire run. The numbers on my garmin reflected my confidence in this workout. I felt on top of the world. 

Tuesday: 8×800 – 8:27 pace, 7:59, 7:54, 7:42, 7:41, 7:39, 7:34, 7:17


Sunrise Finish Line

I carried that confidence straight into my work day. It followed me to my yoga class after work. Everything felt perfectly in place as I relaxed into happy baby pose on my yoga mat. I moved through each pose welcoming the tension and welcoming the release. While laying in pigeon pose every inch of my body connected with the ground beneath me. I felt alive. When it was time to offer up gratitude in class my heart whispered “connection”. I was so thankful for the connection to the ground beneath me, to the countries I work with every day, to the amazing teams I find myself apart of at work, to my relationship with my running coach, and to the support of my family. My heart felt deeply connected. 

Wednesday morning I got out of my car at work, and my hip buckled. My body screamed “ouch”. I shuffled into the office, and I went about my day. I forgot about my hip until I tried to run with Chet that night. Two blocks from my house, my hip reminded me it wasn’t happy. I walked. I started again, and I quickly stopped again. I know better than to run through this pain. 

Wednsday: .25 miles 

Thursday: cancelled tempo run (per coaches orders)

Friday: Rest Day 

Saturday morning I woke up with little discomfort in my hip and headed to a 5k race. I had high hopes for the race. A PR doesn’t feel out of my grasp. A strong headwind on the way out and a blazing hot sun on the way back made for an incredibly uncomfortable race, but since my hip was comfortable I decided comfort was the place for me. 

Saturday: Six miles including a 5k (28:02) 


Warm Up Miles with the Sunrise

Even though I didn’t care about that race and even though I didn’t put effort into the run, my ego was still slightly bruised. 

Sunday morning didn’t go according to plan. By noon I hadn’t run my planned 18 miles and it wasn’t looking hopeful for the rest of the day. As I sorted through Cole’S collection of way too small clothing, I panicked. I wished there was a half marathon option in Chicago. I’m really good at running 14 miles. This week had fallen apart. I went from having best run to the worst week. I missed every run but a crappy 5k. 

As I slowly unravelled, I reminded myself: 

Inhale. Exhale. 

I am calm. I am cool. I am peaceful. 

By 4pm the house had settled, and I had an opportunity to run. It wasn’t ideal, but I could get in some miles. I could chase the sunset. 

The run started off with ease. I navigated my favorite path along Shore Drive into the trails at Pleasure House Point. With the bay and the sun setting to my right, the heat of the day started to get the best of me. By mile 4 I was ready to jump off the bridge into the bay. In a desperate attempt to silence my head and to release the tension from my forehead, I pulled out my headphones to add music to my run. As I approached the Cape Henry Trail, I realized the magic I lost on the run came from inside of me. The magic of my running comes from connecting. I cheered on the mom pushing her son. I greeted all the locals out for an evening walk. I got out of my head and connected to the world around me. The paved path turned into trails and the miles flew by. 


Finding my Wings

As I retraced my steps back to my car, I celebrated the magic of each step. I celebrated the connections this marathon has brought into my life. I chased the setting sun. 

“I define connection as the energy that exists between people when they feel seen, heard, and valued; when they can give and receive without judgment; and when they derive sustenance and strength from the relationship.” ~Brené Brown

This marathon cycle has shown me just how much I thrive on feeling connected. I am my best self when I feel connected to those around me. I preform my best work when I feel connected. My strength comes from connection. 

Knowing exactly what I need to be my best self and having a tool to make it possible -This is the gift of a marathon. 


My Heart needed this One

Sunday: 18 miles – 9:22, 9:28, 9:46, 9:39, 9:06, 9:37, 9:39, 9:41, 10:03, 11:16, 9:35, 9:31, 9:32, 9:27, 9:04, 9:02, 9:17, 9:29