Never alone

This season has been a life-changing experience on so many levels. The staff, the coaches, and my mentor, Jenn, have made a huge impact on me. I want to do more.

I was so lost at the beginning of training, and Jenn walked, ran and hobbled along with me until I got my legs under me (literally), even though she badly needed to get her own training off to a good start. She taught me to slow my pace, stuck by me, and without her, I'm not sure I'd have gotten past my first five mile run.

The coaches have been amazing running me in on the long runs the last few weeks. The first time I ever ran 10 miles Joe Shanahan was out on the course as we tromped though ankle-deep mud checking on us and cheering us on. (Unfortunately, he was also taking pictures.) Christie always asks how I'm doing and tells me how she marvels that I'm running with asthma since she is now fighting it,too. I'm pretty sure Mike and Jim willed me to finish the last mile and a half the week we ran 12 because there was no part of my mind, body or soul that wanted to keep moving. Last week, Joe Funk ran every step of my 10 miles with me.

I've not worried about raising $3,000 (Which I will finish doing very soon, I promise.). I told Ben when I signed up that I knew how to raise money. I have to admit that I was seriously doubtful that anyone could teach me to run the distances I've been racking up week after week. I'm going to run 13 miles in two weeks, and while I'm still nervous, I have no doubt that I'll finish -- and it won't be on my own.

I've reached out to TNT to ask about being a mentor in the fall. I want to participate again, but this time, I want to lend the support to others that I've been shown this season.

Only and Just

As people were gearing up to run their races St. Paddy's weekend, the distances were really starting to look daunting. The week they were all doing their "dress rehearsal" the coaches were giving us plastic medals at the finish line. I figured I wasn't supposed to get one since I was "just" running 6 miles, not 13 or 20. Then, I started thinking that really I wasn't doing that much in comparison to the people running a full marathon. I'd gotten through my first ever 10 mile run without great incidence, so again, I started thinking I was "only" running a half.

St. Paddy's weekend as my teammates were running races, I went to training to run 12 miles. Don't get me wrong, every mile I'd run to that point had been work, but my body decided to show me just what only a half marathon could be like.

It's obvious that running will take a toll on your legs and feet, but you may not realize how much your core -- mid-section from shoulders to hips -- works when you run. About mile 8, I found out. First my chest and abs were a little tight, so I stretched and moved around to loosen back up.

Mile 9. Achy legs at this point is pretty normal, but I started noticing my hips getting sore, too.

Mile 9.5. I start huffing and chuffing because my diaphram has just about had it.

Mile 10. I'm having trouble keeping my posture because my abs have officially told me to kiss off.

Mile 10.5. I see my coaches at the final turn. I've never been so happy to see two people ever. I'm breathing like a woman in labor. I'm pretty sure my coaches can tell I'm about done because Mike decides to run my last mile and a half with me. I don't speak. Every step is excruciating because my hips are so inflamed.

Mile 11. Mike is talking to me, being reassuring me and telling me I'm doing great. I have the urge to hit Mike.

Mile 11.5. Jim passes us on his bike heading back to the parking lot. I consider knocking him over and stealing his bike. I can see the finish line, and I'm literally chanting like the Little Engine that Could. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.

And I did. I apologized for thinking about hitting Mike or stealing Jim's bike. They laugh at me. Once I got home, I crawled out of the car and into the house. I was starting to get cold, so I took a very long, very hot shower, the whole time praying I'd be able to walk later. I managed to get my shirt on barely, but I could only get one leg in my pants. The other wouldn't bend enough. Thankfully, my husband was able to stop laughing at the sight of me long enough to put my sweats on me.

For the rest of the afternoon, I iced my hips, took ibuprophen and ate everything I could get my husband to bring to me. The next morning, my physical therapist worked me over trying to make sure my hip pain was only soft tissue, not bursitis or some other injury. When she was sure it was, I did muscle stem and heat. I'd shuffled into her office, and I was up to waddling on the way out.

It took a full 3 days for me to start feeling somewhat normal again. I was still sore, but manageably so, and I had a whole new perspective on the words "only" and "just." I have to give myself more credit. I'm doing a half marathon, and that's a pretty big deal regardless of what anyone else does.