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.

I'm asking

It's not often that I ask for help, and there has to be something special behind the request for it to happen. Today, I'm asking.

February 2011 was a banner month for me. In four short weeks, I lost three people to cancer. Today is the one-year anniversary of the first. Mark King was just 37 years old. He was one of my oldest friends and my high school sweetheart. Next week will mark one year for Don Harmon, who was one of my mother's oldest friends, a man I knew from when I was knee high to a grasshopper. I had not seen him in a number of years but felt his loss in that part of me that remains a little girl. February 27th will mark one year since we lost my father-in-law. Glen was an amazing man who showed a level of strength and courage in his battle with cancer that will influence me for the rest of my life.

With Glen, I know I did everything I possibly could have for him. My husband and I went to all of his doctor appointments and procedures, all of which were in another state. The last hours of Glen's life were my shift, and I took care of his every need, administering his medication every hour, keeping him comfortable, singing to quiet him. I suctioned his throat, so he could take what would be his last breath. I have no regrets. I miss him like crazy, but I gave Glen everything I had.

While Glen fought for more than two years, Mark's fight was much more brief. Few people even knew he was sick at first. It wasn't his way to broadcast his business, and to the very end, he only allowed a very few people in his room to take care of him. I sat in DC, hundreds of miles from the nearest person who even knew Mark. I was glued to Facebook and my phone waiting for any news after he went into the hospital. I was isolated and helpless. There was nothing I could do to stop what was happening to Mark, nor to ease his family's pain. It was heart-wrenching and infuriating. In the end, Mark was gone, and I felt like I'd given him nothing. I'd done nothing.

Anyone who knows me, knows that doesn't go over so well. Dealing with the loss of Mark has been more difficult because I feel helpless and guilty. I know that in my rational mind, but it does nothing to sooth my heart.

A few months ago, I lucked across something that spurred my craziest idea ever, but that has also turned out to be my way of fighting back against the sadness and frustration of losing too much to cancer -- Team Mark. I've recruited a group of Mark's closest and oldest friends to join me in Nashville on April 28 to run the Country Music Half Marathon as a part of Team In Training to raise money for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. Recruiting, organizing, raising money, these things are easy for me, and I wouldn't feel like I'd done enough if I wasn't also going to do something that will test the outer limits of anything I thought I could ever do -- run 13.1 miles.


I was not kind to my body in my youth. I'm out of shape, overweight, arthritic and asthmatic. I've never been a runner, much less a long-distance runner, and two months ago when I started training, I couldn't run a solid minute without having an asthma attack. When I signed up, LLS kept reassuring me that I'd be able to meet my fundraising goal with all the support they'd lend. I looked very seriously at the man and said I wasn't worried about $3,000 in the least, I'm much more worried about getting 13.1 miles on something besides wheels! Well, this past Saturday, I ran 6 miles.


I'm under the supervision of two doctors and a physical therapists. I have three inhalers, plus a couple of pills, and a stubborn streak a mile wide. It was one of the things that Mark most loved and hated about me. (He had one, too.) It won't be in record time, and it may be ugly, but I'll finish. And end the end, not only will I have done the easy stuff to help end cancer and care for those who fight, but also I will have left every last ounce of sweat and tears I have on the road to the finish line. I'll know I gave Mark everything I had, even if it's too late.


Whether you're cheering from the sidelines (or Facebook), offering up advice or a "Go Team!", chanting and praying or best of all donating, I hope you'll support me. Together we can beat cancer.

Battle song

Please read this post by the most amazing Bloggess.

Heaven help me

My half-marathon training is ramping up to distances I've never gone in one shot before. Saturday, I walked/ran 4.5+ miles. It was painful. Today, I ran just over 2 miles, and while I didn't hurt quite as much, my left shin and right calf were still cramping like crazy. I'm supposed to run 4 miles tomorrow.

I've got all the gear, and my physical therapist is working my legs over on a weekly basis. I stretch all the time, and I'm not sure what else to do. I'm trying to stay motivated. I keep telling myself that as long as my breathing is in check, I'm not stopping because my legs hurt. These cramps are obviously trying to tell me something though, so I'm trying to be more careful, but I don't want to get behind.

I am so frustrated!

That's a first

I went for a run today as part of my training. I only ran 1.6 miles as run/walk intervals, but what was pretty amazing for me was not feeling like I was going to die when I finished. I was hot and out of breath, yes, but I actually felt good. My left calf and shin were cramping like crazy, but I recovered pretty quick. In all my 36 years, that's the first time that's happened. Consider my mind blown.

Today, I ran 2 miles

The alarm went off at 7am this morning. I'm not sure who thought I was crazier, me or the dog. I don't get up that early to go to work. I was so out of it I couldn't get my contacts in. I'm still horrible at this layering thing, too. I am in dire need of a trip to the running store.

This whole running thing started because my friend Mark died of non-Hodgkins lymphoma back in February. The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society has a fantastic program called Team In Training that helps even the most out of shape losers like me run half marathons. :)

Cancer has had a profound impact on my life this year. Three weeks after Mark died, my father-in-law lost his battle with cancer, too. A different type, but cancer nonetheless. I took care of him the last eight hours of his life. Giving him is medicines every hour on the hour through the night.

One of my mom's oldest friends I'd known most of my life, another extended family member, a man from back home I knew. All gone. Others I knew were still fighting. My friend Renee's family had just been through hell with her nephew fighting a rare disease, only to find out that her dad has cancer. He had surgery not long ago to remove the cancer and is having followup radiation now. Our friend Nate from college kept fighting even though the traditional treatments weren't working. He lost the fight last week.

Not everyone I know has/had the same kind of cancer. LLS is the only organization with the great training program, and more people die of blood cancers than the next four cancers combined. Some of the drugs developed for blood cancers have become treatment options for other cancers. So that's how I found myself getting up at 7am to go run 2 miles this morning.

While I was running, Joe was waking up in Nashville. Today is Nate's funeral. He was 34. Thirty-freaking-four! He left a beautiful wife and two adorable kids. This isn't the first young friend I've lost. I've gone through this three times before. Mark was only 37. Mark started all this, but today isn't about Mark. Today is about Nate.

Nate was a good guy, and he didn't deserve this. His wife doesn't deserve to have to raise their kids alone. His kids don't deserve to grow up without their dad. I can make a donation to the kids' trust fund, but the bigger thing I can do is be an active participant in the fight against cancer. I can raise money to help cure the disease and make life better for those with it. I can run two miles and train for a half marathon.

These two are for you, Nate. Safe home.