The Unexpected

11 days ago my father and I sat around anxiously in our Orlando guest house waiting for the clock to strike 7pm.  This signified when it was generally acceptable for us to stop pretending like we weren't anxious, get our running gear on, and make our way to the starting line of our first half marathon.  The race was still not scheduled to start until 10pm but it's Disney World so they likely had to secure the perimeter and find all of the missing children before 10,000 runners blasted through the parks.

We arrived to the pre-race party, were mildly entertained by a DJ but significantly entertained by costumes people were brave enough to wear.  We sat, stretched, walked, and gawked for 90 minutes.  They made the announcement that in 15 minutes we could move to the corrals.  This would be a welcome release from all of the waiting and anticipating.

We felt a small drizzle begin to fall before the announcement was made; our race was going to be delayed due to lightning within 5 miles of the course.  Rain is ok, lightning is not.  10,000 runners shuffled their warmed up bodies into three different sports complexes on the ESPN Wide World of Sports campus.  We finally got settled and began to check weather and twitter repeatedly for any updates.

The atmosphere was a bit grim.  Awkward "pump up" music was playing in the background to distract us from the fact that we had no control of anything in the universe.  After an hour of disappointing "no news" announcements, we were finally allowed to return to the race headquarters.

Buzz in the crowd suggested that a twitter post had been made noting the race was to be cut short by 6 miles.  Sure enough, the announcers confirmed that, due to more incoming lightning the race would be 7.1 miles, eliminating the part of the course through Animal Kingdom.

It is here where I began to lose a bit of faith in humanity.  Sure, it was disappointing, I trained for a whole year and was looking forward to earning the 13.1 bumper sticker.  However, here we were, in DISNEYWORLD, getting the opportunity to run through the parks that represent some of the best memories of my childhood.  Lots of people were mad.  Lots of people talked about the letters they would write or the seething tweets they were sending.  We were a bit tired, but other than that, grateful to run.

We are no strangers to the idea of the "unexpected".  In fact, our team name, "Pacemaker and a Babymaker" is representative of how the unexpected shoved its way into our lives in 2012/2013.  My pregnancy was unexpected.  My father's pacemaker and subsequent drama that followed was unexpected.  I have never been more proud to be in my wolf pack family than watching how we adjusted to the unexpected.  We found joy and celebration alongside pain and confusion.

It's really only fitting that the damned half marathon we had been predicting the outcome of for 10 months would end up with an unexpected twist.

We made our way up to the starting line.  Each corral was sent off with fireworks and celebration.  It was awesome.

The course was absolutely gorgeous.  Every detail was attended to, per usual for Disney World.  Our favorite was the Dancing Lights at Disney's Hollywood Studios.  We stopped for a picture.

I felt like I could have easily run the extra 6 miles.  My body felt amazing.  I remembered times when a mile felt impossible.  The music in my headphones that my brother and I curated that afternoon kept my feet moving, the atmosphere of the crowd kept my spirits up.  My father running beside me reminded me that we are always stronger with our loved ones next to us.  I got my personal best mile time and quickly forgot about the angst of weather delays.

The medal may not fully represent the amount of miles I ran that night but it represents overcoming fear, pushing through discomfort, reclaiming my body as mine, valuing health and happiness, and relying on family for support.  

THIS IS WHERE I THANK ALL OF YOU FOR ALL OF YOUR SUPPORT.  I put that part in caps in case you want to shuffle through all the touchy feely encourage-y stuff.  Seriously, I had all of the feelings every time someone contributed to our St. Jude's fundraising page.  We absolutely felt your energy along each step of the way.  So many of you came out with your own stories of struggle and overcoming obstacles and for that I am grateful to have your energy in my life.  Most of all, you believed in us.  There were days over the past couple years where I relied on that more than anything.  

We are already making plans to return next year and avenge our 6 miles.  Thank you for joining with us in this journey.

And don't worry......I still decided that a morning-after-race Corona was in order....

We earned it.  

Love to all of you.

XOXO, Babymaker

"I Don't Run Unless Something is Chasing Me"

If you've been friends with me for over a year, you know that this was my typical response to people asking me to consider jogging, people talking about their own running endeavors,  and my general throwing shade at anyone who actually claimed that they run for enjoyment. It was effective. It made people laugh, I got to continue to be cynical, and most importantly, I didn't have to run.  

I grew up believing that I didn't have an athletic body and had more of the personality of someone who stays away from endurance sports. It would be expected of me in a "look-at-me-go" blog entry such as this one to say that I was inhibited by negativity and blame the naysayers.  The truth is, I never ran because I didn't want to be a "runner" I was terrified of failing.  I had judgments about what I would look like and considered the fact that every time I tried to start a new jogging habit, I quickly retreated into safer territory after it got hard.  I couldn't do it so therefore --> why do sane people do this ever and look at them that's so stupid.  Those who cannot do, criticize.

Even as  I write this I have a ticker tape of thoughts about being "that person that blogs about running" and whether or not anyone really gives a shit.  But I suppose if you're still reading, I'll take your foolish blind trust and raise you an attempt to be insightful.

You guys, turns out..... I DON'T HATE RUNNING.

Almost 2 years ago now I gave birth to a person who flipped my world upside down. The process of labor (which, if you continue scrolling through these blog posts, you can read in detail about) called permanent "bullshit" on the concept of telling myself I can't do anything. After giving birth I felt like a mother***ing sorcerer. I rode that high for quite some time and felt invincible.  

Sometime around his first birthday, I found myself existing on two emotional planes.  One...I was filled with more exhilaration and stupid-happiness in my own home with my little family than I could ever imagine to experience.  Two...life within my body felt detached and foreign.  I could no longer identify the form I inhabited.  It was more than just shape shifting from pregnancy and the blurry months of half assed meals and half as much sleep.  It was a genuine disconnection from something that I had felt so in tune with for years.  

I would not call this time period dark or depressing because I was so filled with love for my new family that it distracted me from the dissonance.  Things got easier after my child slept regularly and did not require as much sacrifice.  Spaces in my life began to free up that I forgot existed.  Spaces that at first were terrifying because now I really had to be in my body. I didn't have a good reason to neglect it anymore. 

I told my husband some random moment between cheerios, poop, and new coos that I felt the birth experience gave me new motivation to do something impossible, like taking up running. Without wavering he simply said, "you can do anything". He really meant it and not in a pumping sunshine up my ass kind of way, either.  I think of that almost every day.

8 minutes was my hurdle.  All of the times I had tried running in the past I would be able to run 8 minutes and then experience what I can only liken to multiple engine failure and I would screech to a panting halt.  I remember being terrified as I peeked through the upcoming weeks in my Couch to 5k app knowing that the dreaded 8 minute long run was approaching.  

I will not kid you and say that I swimmingly surpassed the 8 minute roadblock without even breaking a glistening sweat because I was so distracted by the joy of the jog.  I struggled and I struggled and it felt impossible.  Sometime before the holidays of 2014 I stopped running altogether because, you know, "weather-related excuse". Molly, a friend of mine who can see through my bullshit, asked me to do a 5k with her in early December.  I scrolled through my mental rolodex of reasons to avoid this race and I even threw out some excuse about needing to see family.  I knew as my thumb hit send on the text message that it was a poor excuse and quickly admitted that I was just scared.  

I feel I must pause this dialogue about myself and speak for a moment about my friends.  We have been through hell and back together.  The singular thought that keeps me going on runs where I feel like a moose that has been punctured in the kidney with an arrowhead is how much badassery I have circling around me with these women.  One of them, Jocey, gets a large amount of credit for taking me on as a personal training client and putting up with me cussing her out when she forces me to talk to her during our runs for the "cardiovascular benefits".  They all are at the forefront of my mind because they have all achieved amazing feats of physical and emotional strength that keeps me grateful for the positive manifestations of peer pressure. 

The race was great.  It was a little cold for my taste.  I didn't get a terrible time and, of course, the brunch afterward was the best part.  And although I look terrible in long sleeve t-shirts, or really t-shirts of any kind, I proudly wore that t-shirt while chugging on the hamster loop at the gym and flirted with calling myself a "runner" for the first time ever.

Ok, so now to switch topics a bit and talk a little about my dad.  Shortly after my son was born, my father was admitted to the hospital after a heart monitor picked up some significant heart concerns.  He was given a pacemaker, which later got infected and had to be replaced with another device a few weeks later. As I'm typing this I'm realizing that the whole experience is now fitting into one tiny paragraph when really it felt like a decade of slogging for my family.

Part of the process required my dad to stay in the hospital for a week to monitor his infection levels while waiting for the new pacemaker.  My mom, who is the most fierce and loyal person I know, was growing weary of finding new ways to convince my dad not to just rip out his IVs and leave. Have I told you that my dad and I can be stubborn at times? I pulled my dad into the hospital hallway (didn't mention that his backless gown had suffered a wardrobe malfunction) and told him that I needed him to stay for the sake of my son. My dad had so many reasons to stick with this process and get healthy but the prospect of not being around to chase his grandson around the park changed something in him.   

Then that magical change came around and bit me in the ass because a few months ago, my dad casually drops the bomb that he thinks we should do a half-marathon together.  How can you say no to someone with a bucket list item like that!?  

True to form, I dodged the issue with sarcasm.  I told him I don't like people who are training for things cause that's ALL they talk about.  I told him (and myself at some point) that I just wanted to be able to run a 5k and then I would call it quits.  I had elaborate philosophical ramblings about why I didn't want to but at the end of the day I was, once again, terrified of failing. 

Here is where I will skip some because I don't really know how to describe the change within me over the past few months.  We tentatively agreed to do a half marathon together, particularly the Disney Wine and Dine Half Marathon because....Disneyword...duh.  Once that race was in my head, I couldn't let it go. I obsessively watched youtube videos of people running the race and they actually appeared to be having fun.  I pictured myself crossing the finish line during every run I did, even if it was just a mile and I knew I'd be adding 12 more miles on the day of the race.  

About a month ago I geared up to do a 15 minute run around the hamster loop.  Again I will reinforce that up until this point, every single run felt like mild torture (but not like, real torture just so everyone knows I'm not making that full comparison).  I started running and kept waiting for the torture to set in...and kept waiting...and kept waiting...and it didn't so I kept going....and going.... and going....

I ran for 35 minutes that day.  I finished tired but not depleted.  I felt amazing.  For the first time I really believed that I could run this half marathon. 

By no means am I an expert nor do I think I will ever fully understand or believe in some type of opiate-like runners high that so many people claim is real.  But I feel so good to be able to do something I told myself I would never do.  People have commented on physical changes within my body but what they cannot see and what drives me to lace up and go out every other day more than anything is that I feel connected to myself again.  If you would have told me 2 years ago that running would be the thing to do this for me, I would have laughed in your face and probably judged you a little bit.  I'm as surprised as anyone.

I'm not fighting it.  I'm embracing it.  I'm having a great time.  

AAAAND here's where I'm going to ask you for money.  Full disclosure.  I apologize if you feel used now that you've spent so much time with me in this blog entry but I don't care that much because it's for a great cause. 

In order for us to do this race together, we must raise $1500 by October of this year.  The race is this November.  We have selected St. Jude's as our charity and are excited to have a reason beyond our own life circumstances to finish this race.

Our team name is "Pacemaker and a Babymaker".  Artistic credit goes to Beth for coming up with the name.  Here's the link to donate.

If you can't give money, I welcome any encouraging words or running tips because I still feel like I don't really know what to expect or how to overcome the difficult runs.  If you see me run by your house and my face is all red, I'm not dying, my body just does that instead of sweating sometimes.

And most importantly, if you have a fear of running or anything else, join me in calling resounding "bullshit" and do something that is scary.

Thanks for listening.

Six Month Pics

Know what's awesome about having a godmother who is a photographer??  She was the first to ever take his photo and she will be taking photos for many years to come :)  Kudos to Lisa Venticinque for capturing our little dude so well.

Ps. Cash is pissed about the snowstorm coming up, in case you were wondering his opinion.  He told me.

xoxox Beards