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!


The Christmas tree is now beside the curb, the new year lingers, and Chet’s birthday is less than a week away. With Christmas decorations put away, the house feels renewed. It’s a blank slate ready for a new year. From my rocking chair in the corner where the Christmas tree once stood, I watch Chet play. An excavator gracefully scoops uno cards into a dump truck to be transported to the landfill strategically placed on the front door mat.

I’ve been off work since last Tuesday. I still have six more days at home to enjoy these morning hours with my children. Mornings are best for Chet. He is well rested and the overtired, over stimulated meltdowns don’t begin until closer to dinner time. During the other fifty weeks of the year, my time during the weekdays with Chet are during the overtired, over stimulated meltdowns. Weekdays are filled with work and school, hurried efforts to get dinner made, and trying to make the most of our few hours together. Most of these evenings are spent tip toeing around Chet’s meltdowns.  These two weeks off from work have been my greatest gift.

As I watch Chet play and explore his imagination, I still can’t believe he is going to be three. It seems like just yesterday I was sitting at home anxiously awaiting his arrival. The look on my husband’s face as we sat in the delivery room when Chet refused to join us in the world is still fresh in my memory. Christian’s words still ring in my ears. The feeling of letting go still washes over my body. It’s a memory I’ll always hold close to my heart. As we navigated his birth, I had so much fear: what if it didn’t go according to my plan. Chet sensed it. He knew. From the moment I found out I was pregnant, I knew I wanted to welcome him into the world in the most peaceful way I could imagine. It was when I let go of the fear of the unknown, the things I can’t control, that Chet’s birth became about his peaceful welcoming.

Nothing has changed since that day. My hope for raising both Cole and Chet is to guide them down their own path in a peaceful world. As I watch them playing together now to build train tracks in the Christmas-less room, I realize that the only thing that gets in my way is my own fear and my own desire to control day to day outcomes. I forget to trust. I forget to breath. I forget to let go. I forget that life is about the process not the details each day.

“Peace is the result of retraining your mind to process life as it is, rather than as you think it should be.” ~Wayne Dyer

2015 is two days away. Chet’s birthday is in less than a week. We have a blank slate to write our story. So many changes are waiting for us: middle school, Christian working closer to home, and work possibilities that remind me that dreams come true….when you trust, when you let go, and  when you fill your day with love.


Understanding Need

I sit in front of my computer screen starring at medical companies and emails every single day. All of them are filled with potential, but on my side of the screen, I sit feeling needy. The information I need to make things happen doesn’t exist inside my head. I have to ask for help. The resources I need aren’t readily available to me. I have to ask for support. The people I need to reach are not defined. I have to search until I find the right person. My job at Operation Smile, an amazing organization that provides free surgeries to repair cleft lip, cleft palate, and other facial deformities for children around the globe, is to ask for Gifts in Kind. I ask companies to donate medical supplies so we don’t have to purchase them for our medical mission.

I have tunnel vision right now. We are spending thousands of dollars on acetaminophen for every mission. No one donates this simple drug. Bottles of Tylenol are in nearly every household in America. There has to be a way to find a donation. I know I can find the right company. While I researched acetaminophen, while I researched companies, and while I reached out to anyone willing to accept my call, I sat in my chair feeling desperate.

“I’m going to have to get used to feeling needy”

This is the thought that kept echoing in my head. Needy is not a comfortable place for me. Needy is not a character trait I strive to embody.

In the middle of a development conference, I sat in a small room with all my coworkers and our co-founder, Dr. Magee. Tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat is a normal part of my work day. Every single story touches my heart. As I whipped away a tear, a realization washed over my body.

“I am not needy. The children, the adults, the families, and the communities that need acetaminophen as a very small piece of what it takes to make a surgery a success, they are in need.”

I can’t perform the surgery that will fix a child’s life forever. I can’t teach them to speak years after most children have muttered their first words. I can’t provide them information on nutrition so their bodies can thrive. There is a lot I can’t do, but there is even more that I can do. I can carry their need for them. I can sit in my chair at work and turn that need into an honor. I have the privilege of asking. I have the privilege of bringing the mission of Operation Smile to corporations around our global. I get to connect these two worlds.

When I started to feel needy, I could feel myself shrinking. If continuous online searching and dozens of asks to unresponsive receivers could make me shrink in my desk chair, imagine living a life where you’re not accepted or received because of the way you look. That is a real need. When I was reminded that I was advocating for an authentic need of an individual, I sat up a little taller in my chair.

“Love by definition is self-sacrifice. Love is a decision to make someone else’s problem your own.” ~ Dr. Bill Magee

Every single day I love what I do. I love the children around the world that are kept hidden from their communities because of their cleft lip and cleft palate. I love the mothers, the fathers, the caregivers who sacrifice so much to give their child a chance at a normal life. I love every single person who makes this possible. What I do each day is an honor. I will find a company that also feels honored to provide acetaminophen to our patients around the world. I will ask and ask and ask again because this is a real need in our world.

This isn’t needy. This is love.


Nothing speaks louder than Love

It’s the holiday season. Houses are decorated. We put on our best clothes. We prepare nicer than usual dinners. We surround ourselves with family and friends. We give gifts to show our love. We present ourselves in the best way possible. This holiday has so many meanings for so many people. Whether you celebrate Hanukkah or the birth of Christ or Santa Claus, this time of year is meant to be a celebration of love.

If you’ve been any where near the news or social media in the past few days, I think you’ll notice a trend. Freedom of speech is being defended and attacked. Individuals are being defended and attacked. Defend. Attack. Defend. Attack. I’ve done my best to ignore it. I certainly have my own beliefs about homosexuality and Duck Dynasty.

Do I care if your gay? No. This world needs more love and I encourage anyone to embrace love. It’s that simple to me.

Am I gay? No.

Do I watch Duck Dynasty? No. I’ve never watched the show nor do I know what it’s about but I gather that they are a Christian family.

Do I attend church? No.

Do I care if you attend church? No. Again, the world needs more love and if this is where you find it, I encourage you to go.

Do I like the opinions expressed by this character on Duck Dynasty? Absolutely not, but he is entitled to have his own opinions.

Do I care if he was fired? No. The network has every right to have there brand represented however they want. I do feel bad for him for being punished for expressing an opinion though.

I guess my point is this, if I even have one. We are five days away from a holiday that is celebrated by both Christians and non Christians. We may not all agree about the reason for celebrating this holiday, but I think we can all agree that love should be the driving force behind the celebration. We can all connect over love. Our differences don’t matter.

Why aren’t we sharing love? Why aren’t we spreading love? Why do we care about a show and an opinion of a man and a decision of a network? I’m sure there are arguments to be made as to why I should care? And clearly I do care because I’m writing about it!

I care because I will never understand how we can promote and publish and feed into energy that continues to divide an already divided community, country and world. I recognize that I am also giving into this energy, but I hope that by observing, I can witness ways to connect. I can step back and see how this is causing more hurt than good.

All I see is what we are missing? We are missing love. We are missing compassion. We are missing humanity.

I believe we are all deserving of love. If we judge and determine worth by every single life choice made, none of us deserve love.

I’ve married and divorced.
I’ve cheated.
I’ve drank too much.
I’ve been dishonest.
I’ve made some really crappy choices in my 33 years.
I’ve been selfish.
I’ve been mean.

By all means, someone could (and probably has) judged me to be a bad person unworthy of love and forgiveness. But I am worthy of love. We all are.

When did we start turning our backs on people who are different then us? When did it become okay to abandon people when life gets hard? Even worse, when did we start turn our backs on the celebration of love?

We have five days until Christmas. Turn off the TV. Walk away from Facebook. Quit reading my blog. Let us use this time to come together. Spread love. Not to those who you think deserve it but to everyone. Doesn’t everyone deserve love?

We all love differently. That doesn’t make my love better than your love. It makes us equals. It makes us human. I makes us a community. I love my husband, my children, our planet, the color yellow, books, running and yoga. I love grapefruit and avocado. I love the trees and the stars. My love is what makes me ME. Your love is what makes you YOU. This should bring us together not tear us apart.

While we are decorating our house and putting on our best clothes, let us also make sure we fill our hearts with love. Not just for those who fit into your mold but for everyone. There is no such thing as too much love.

Quit attacking. There is no need to defend.

It is important to protect our freedom of speech. Being able to express ourselves, our differences, is what makes us great. If we are going to protect our freedom of speech, we have to protect our freedom to love. Nothing, nothing speaks louder than love.


I don’t know what I’d do if I wasn’t free to love him.

Live, Love, Run

By the time August rolls around, I’ve had it with summer running. My motivation to run has been slowly disappearing. I’m sleeping through my alarm clock. I’m dreading the early morning weekend run. Technically speaking, I’m 93 days away from the Richmond Marathon, yet I don’t have the marathon buzz just yet. Blame it on the injury or the absent training plan (although I really do have one), or the weather. My running lows are currently out weighing my running highs.

Or at least that was my story until last night…

Not too long ago, I learned that I had been selected by my favorite race organization to be a member of their Live, Love, Run Team. J&A Racing hosts five local races including the Shamrock Marathon. I applied to be on this team because I truly believe they are the best in the business. No one celebrates running, runners, family, and community quite like J&A Racing. Last night they organized a local 3.5 mile fun run. It included a gorgeous run along the Lynnhaven Bay and connected to a beach run along the Chesapeake Bay. (Living in a town full of water is amazing!) After the run, we celebrated with food, italian ice, and beer. The party wouldn’t be complete without live music too. All of this was free. You just had to bring a donation for For Kids. They were collecting school supplies for kids in the local community who would otherwise go back to school empty-handed.

With a new backpack and a bag full of paper, pencils, and crayons, my entire family (including my mom and dad) headed to the event. While my family walked, I got to run with two friends I haven’t seen since the Crawling Crab (also organized by J&A Racing) last October. I saw an endless stream of familiar faces – a childhood friend and her husband, a long time friend of my sister, fellow Live, Love, Run Team members and blogging friends (The Beachy Runner and The Fit Petite), and friends of my husband. The entire evening (and maybe the two beers) left me feeling giddy not only about running, but also about the adventures I’m about to tackle with J&A Racing. The running community in Virginia Beach is amazing. 

View of the Lynnhaven Bay (taken by The Beachy Runner)

View of the Lynnhaven Bay (taken by The Beachy Runner)

My hip is feeling stronger every day. I feel honored to be working with J&A Racing. And my next marathon is 93 days away!

The cherry on top: this morning I woke up to Fall weather! Low humidity. High of 75. My air conditioner is off, my windows are open, and I have a date with my running coach tonight!

Beach Running

Beach Running

And what about that training plan….I’ve updated my training page. You can read about it here. I’ve also given my blog a facelift. I hope you like it! I’ll be making lots of changes over the next few weeks.



I vowed after my  17 mile run this past winter that left me completely gutted that I would never run down the Cape Henry Trail again. That run was five and a half months ago, and yet, I feel like a lifetime existed in the winter and spring months since that date. Time has passed, and the long never-ending trail doesn’t haunt me anymore. My feet have led me back to that trail. For the past six weeks, I have returned every Wednesday. My miles are smaller this time, nothing bigger than six miles as I nurse an aggravated hip. They are more focused and full of ambition and excitement. My running is changing.

Running with my coach (on a bike beside me) is peeling off layers. It’s shaking off the rust that has accumulated: rust on these running legs of mine that has been building up since I ran track in high school, rust on this brain of mine that got stuck thinking that I am slow since returning to running a few years ago, and rust on this heart of mine that has needed a little protecting since it was broken this winter.  

Start of the Cape Henry Trail

Start of the Cape Henry Trail

As I made my way through several series of pick-ups during yesterdays run, I felt myself shed another layer. As my stride extended to cover more trail and my arms worked to help carry me, I felt like I was flying. I felt free. For you non-runners, the best comparison I can make is to compare it to a horse. The trot, my normal comfortable run pace, is rigid and bouncy. The canter of a horse smoothes out and a rhythm develops. And the gallop – that is where the flying happens!

My love for running has moved into another category. I now remember why those six-minute miles felt amazing in high school. These pick-ups have shown me  how great it feels to let go and run. My garmin is showing glimpses of 6s again even if they are just for brief moments. These pick-ups are leaving me with a smile on my face, the simple act of putting it out there and letting it go.  They are also extending beyond my Wednesday runs. I’m looking for them everywhere.

That 17 mile run in January left me gutted, but so did life. An instinctive need to guard myself from all big emotions (even the good ones) became my method for dealing with life. This impacts everything. My relationship with Christian became a little more stressed. My interaction with the boys became a little more guarded. Opening up and feeling the big love I have for them all became scary. I started to get rusty.

During my runs I’m choosing to run these pick-ups. I’m also choosing to find pick-ups in my daily life. Instead of shying away from an extra kiss from my husband in the kitchen, I’m hanging on to that extra moment. I’m leaving my side of the living room to curl up on his lap at the end of the day. In the middle of the night last night, I woke up and found myself holding his hand. I’m lingering at bedtime as I tuck Cole into bed instead of rushing through the process. I’m adding an extra block to our family walks because it’s one of the few times Cole loves to converse. I’m tickling Chet more, and letting him pick my nose. We are sharing smoothies on the porch.

Morning run before anyone else was awake

Morning run before anyone else was awake

Our day-to-day life will probably always be the a little rigid and a little bouncy like the trot of a horse. We are a normal busy family. We will get rusty. It’s the small moments in the time that we do get to share,  the pick-ups in our day, when we open up, we let ourselves go, and we commit to flying that matter most. It’s where the real work happens.


Loving vs Labeling

In the midst of saying goodbye to Christian’s father, I sought out a fine balance for how much I wanted Cole to know about death and dying. How much did I want him to see? In the few days that my father-in-law was in hospice care and in the hospital, he changed rapidly. He went from being the man I love to a man I didn’t recognize. He was dying. Cole is a very aware eight year old. He feels things deeply, yet his brain is so scientific. He wants answers for everything. X plus Y must equal Z. If they don’t, he will dissect it until it does make sense. We discussed his grandpa’s health. I asked him what he wanted to know. I allowed him to hide behind his book during one of several short visits I made with him. We never took him to the hospital.

After the first visit, Christian was saying good night to Cole. He told him he loved him. He told him he was happy to be his dad even if he was his stepdad. He was proud to have him as his son. Cole responded:

The step doesn’t matter. It’s all the same.

As you can imagine, this brought tears to Christian’s eyes. It made me proud as a mother. It doesn’t matter. It has never mattered in our house. Step dad and step mom don’t exist. Half brothers and sisters are just brothers and sisters. Cole has moms and dads. He has two brothers and a sister. Cole’s Grandpa John has loved him since the moment he met him. Cole has always been his grandson. It’s no different from his love for his other grandchildren. It’s all the same.

The night that Grandpa John passed away, Cole curled up in my lap. He cried. Christian curled up on the other side. He cried. We all sat in a puddle of tears together. My tears couldn’t be distinguished from Cole’s or Christian’s tears. We cried as a family. While Christian went to the hospital and later to his mom’s house, Cole and I laid in his bed. I was reading John’s caringbridge site. Cole asked if he could sign the journal. As I prepared to type his words, he asked to do it himself. He requested that I look away until he posted it:

Written Jan 27, 2013 9:54pm


He past away on a full moon and high tide.I loved him very much,and i’m happy I got to meet him and he got to meet me and every one else.

But im very sad he past away but he’ll all ways be in our heart

Cole Maute

Sweet words from a grandson to his grandfather. It touched my heart deeply to know he wanted to say goodbye. I read it again and again. On my third reading, I noticed his name. Cole’s last name isn’t Maute. My last name is Maute. John’s last name is Maute. Cole shares a last name with his father. It really is all the same. We don’t share a last name with our son, but he is a Maute in his heart. He is loved by our entire family. He loves our entire family. Because love is such an amazing thing, he shares that same love with his dad’s side of the family too.

He may not share a last name with his grandpa, but he was his grandson. He may not share a last name with Christian, but he is his son. I don’t even share a last name with him, but there isn’t a love that compares to my love for Cole.

Grandpa and Cole burying Christian at the beach

Grandpa and Cole burying Christian at the beach

The labels and identifiers we put on things in life do not matter. Last names. Mom. Dad. Stepdad. Half brother. Runner. Yogi. Writer. Brother. Sister. Doctor. Teacher. President. Boss. Employee. Student. None of these labels matter. They mean nothing if they aren’t rooted in love. It’s the love in our hearts that defines who we are and the relationships we have with those around us. It’s the love that we have for what we do that matters most.

Find love, share love, spread love, and embrace love in everything you do and with everyone you meet.

It’s love that really matters.