Post Ogden Marathon Chatter

Training Run Start/Stop marker

Some periods in life are not to be forgotten.  This period, my "oh lookie, i'm a marathoner!" period, I don't want to forget.

So, this post is purely for MY memory.

Training:
Official (Ogden) Marathon training started in January with a base of 4 miles.  Using Hal Higdon's training plans I ran Mon, Tues, Wed, Saturday, & x-trained on Thursday's for 20 weeks.  It was hard.  It was long.  It was cold (hello winter mornings!). It was sweaty.  Real sweaty.  Like, got a rash (remember the rash?!) sweaty.  Made 5-a.m. gym runner buddies. Mind and body were in a constant street fight.

Dave was my "why this" and "why that" resource and my #1 supporter.  HE was incredible.

Injury:
Seriously.  I took the precautions. No more than a 10% increase a week. Good shoes. Lots of water. Stretching. Sleep plenty (okay, I didn't do so well with this one). Then at week 15, a hurt knee. I ran through the pain for a long time thinking it would "heal itself." No such luck.

Hurt + Slipping at Ikea (the final blow?) = Extreme pain in every step and NO ability to run even 5 feet.

Physical Therapist advice:
Most likely a small meniscus tear.  Only option is surgery. "You will NOT be doing a marathon any time soon. Have you thought about selling your entry?"

My solution:
Prayer.  Prayer, prayer, prayer! Aspercreme, Ibuprofen, and a big bit of elliptical too.

Running Goodies

Ogden Race:
Having taken several weeks off, the excruciating pain in my knee calmed down to a "it hurts to run" feeling. My pace had dropped from a 10 minute mile to a hurting 11:30 minute pace. That was a depressing drop.

Before the race I was able to get 4 small runs in (and one 12 miler). My right leg over compensated (for the hurting left one) on each of these runs and made my right leg ache and my shin burn.  Now both legs were left needy and not offering a quick post-run recovery.

But I showed up.  No way in heck was I going to not even try.  That would have been ridiculous! So I stood by my sis-in-law at the start line, put my headphones in at the 30-seconds to race time announcement and the world went quiet.

I was alone. 26.2 miles was all that stood between me and the marathoner status I was striving for.

And then I ran. I felt a small nudge in my knee, but it was not enough to stop me. Plus, if I stopped, I would get trampled as I was one of the slower runners starting up in the front with the fast runners (had to get a head start!).

So I kept running. And running, and running.

People were stopping to stretch this and that. To re-tie a shoe, change music, and adjust their straps.

But I kept on running.

Mile 1 was done.

Then mile 2, .. . 3, .. 6, ... 7

At this point I realized that I had no pain. N.O.N.E.  That is when I text Dave my mileage, by golly, my miracle was a-happenin!

Several runs have brought me to tears as I have had spiritual experiences and felt my "wagon being pushed." On this day, my wagon was pushed.

I decided that at about mile 15 the "race" would begin as people's engines would start to fail. Many that had sped past me were now walking. Fatigue was setting in. At mile 20ish a runner was laying in the road with a leg locked in a cramp with another runner trying to help.  I wanted to yell out "PRAY!"  Mile 22ish I watched another runner literally dragging their injured leg. Again I wanted to shout "PRAY!" Legs and bodies were failing all around me.

It was every person for himself to get across the finish line now.

My Cheer Staff

I kept running. From mile 23-26 my legs were screaming. The pain was intense. My mind followed suit by screaming back to my legs (which were for sure engulfed in flame) that "I came to run, and that I would have plenty of time for walking the rest of my life!"

So I ran.

Yes, I ran the whole darn thing (well, except one big hill at mile 14 that I had previously deemed to not be worth the double effort.  Oh, and the aid stations. Gatorade has never tasted better).

4 hours and 55 minutes later with 26.2 miles behind me I crossed the finish line.

And just to please my mom, I put my shaky legs into my highest pair of high heels for church the next day and "acted" like all was well.

And, it is.

My 26.2

This post is for my family.

The family that has sacrificed.

The family that has inspired.

The family that is mine.

Tonight I was asked a question by a twinkly-eyed sleepy Sammy.  After saying her prayers, she asked, "Mommy, what about your marathon?"

You see, I have a sick knee.  It has been coughing and sputtering for quite some time.  Thirteen days ago, and 25 days before my first marathon, it got into bed and decided to hide under the covers.  No coaxing, begging, or bribing was enough to make it move.

Twenty. Five. Days. Before.

Seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, and years I have been inwardly training for this marathon.  Knowing that this run would eventually collide with me was my little secret, although I denied it to all.

Except myself.

And then, time stopped.

No more training.

No more running.

For 5 days I was still.

For 5 days I was sad.

For 5 days I wondered.

For 5 days I cried.

It hurt so much.

I filled the buckets in heaven with my pleading for help.

Help was sent,  not in the form of a  healed knee, but in a calmness.

All. Will. Be. Well.

And in a reminder:

"When a door is shut, crawl through the window."

On day 6 I got on an elliptical.  No, it is not running, but still the sweat drips down my back and the mentality that I am still in the game is with me.

Bonus, no knee pain on an elliptical.

So as I told my sleepy eyed Sammy, "what about it?"

Run, walk, or crawl, this girl (and her naughty knee) are doing a marathon in 12 days.

Take that 26.2.

P.S. If an ice bag or 10 were waiting for me with a handful of Advil at the end it would be much appreciated.  Thanks in advance.  Oh, and a knee replacement would be dandy too.

Refreshing Blizzard

Oh my.

Nothing posted on my little plum page in over a month.

My family journaling habit is falling to pieces.

Although, almost daily I have the "hey, I should write this down!" moment.  And then I don't.

Shame on me.

Tonight I had one of those moments. Actually, last weekend I had an even BIGGER one of those moments.

They will each be getting a turn.

Right now, moment #1.

It is storming outside. More than storming, but blizzarding. Badly. About an hour ago it didn't look too, too bad, so I ventured out in it.

Yes Mom, I ventured out.

As I backed out of our garage the wind grabbed my attention first. The high winds mixed with swirling snow was stunning. Like nothing I had ever seen. The roads were wet, but had no snow sticking to them.  Should be okay, right?

The drive through the steep gulley to the grocery store was a little bit shady as the blowing snow diminished my visibility by the second. Still, the roads were fine.  As I crested the gulley the ball game changed IN. AN. INSTANT.  All visibility disappeared.  The wet roads instantly turned into roads with 4-5 inches of slippery snow, and the wind hit like a battering ram.

A chill went through me. I gripped the steering wheel tighter.

The place I was in offered no turn around. My only option was to continue deeper into the center.

I was alone. All the electricity was out outside. No street lights, no home lights, and no grocery store lights to lead me. Panic set in. Snow blindness wrapped its arms around me.

Crawling along I missed the turn to the store. Missed it completely. Never even saw it. Before I knew it  I was at an intersection onto a main road. Even worse. There was no road, only a powerless stop light swinging in the wind that told me I was on the road.

I inched feet ahead at a time.  The road was gone.  Everything was gone.

Panic?

Shaky hands?

Shallow breathing?

Oh. Yeah.

Desperate options flew through my head. Should I call Dave? Call Papa (Dave's dad)? Both rescue options would be dead ends. I was in a place that was unreachable.

Before I knew it, my mind had settled on my only potential rescuer, and was pleading for help.

Prayer was to hold my hand and get me home.

My desperate pleas swirled as thick as the snow that encircled me.

I made it home on the shoulders of  prayer.

No harm had been done.

A testimony of prayer reminded, refreshed, and now, shared.

"There are thoughts which are prayers.  There are moments when, whatever the posture of the body, the soul is on its knees."  -Victor Hugo     

Happy Resolution!

Relief Society lesson #1 in 2011.

Happiness.

Was it a good lesson?  Definitely.

Was it a lesson I need to learn/use/ponder/incorporate/live?

Uh huh.  Yep.

The teacher is quite possibly the happiest person I have ever encountered. Last Fall I got to spend a weekend with this happy person.

A WHOLE WEEKEND!  I was spoiled in her happy happy's.

After our time together, I planned on truly emulating her happy's. It has not been as easy as I had hoped.  In fact, sometimes it is very, very, very hard.

New Years Resolution # 2:  Be happy.

Happiness is a form of courage.

-Holbrook Jackson

P.S.  isn't happy's an annoying word?  Happy Happy's!

P.P.S. Two "happy" posts in one month, perhaps i'm in a rut?

Mr. Eric

Three words: Anti Gravity Yoga

We did it.

As in, Dave, myself, and our friend Eric.

Eric is awesome.

We call him our Yoga Guru.

Dave met him in his pre-Liz time at UVSC. I entered the equation at a chance intro in a McDonalds parking lot in my dating-Dave time.

We like it random like that.

Eric has been with us since the start.

Did I mention that Eric is awesome?

He likes his BBQ's as big as we do. Steak with a side of steak and a steak on the side. And maybe a steak for dessert?

Again, awesome? I. Think. So.

He is a also a photography buff. He is known online in the photography hob-nobbing circles. Fancy, eh?

Awesome again? Uh huh.

He is also a sweet computer techie, or so I hear. My ears tend to freeze up when the techy smack talk comes out. Most of it flies over my head, so I know he must be a whiz.

Awesome? No, make that, techy-Awesome.

Thanks for the anti-gravity evening Eric, it, and YOU are awesome!

(Picture from www.styleme.net)

Daily Goods

A long time ago I went through a not-so-happy period.

It was not fun.

At. All.

Coming out of it I made a conscious effort to see the happy. Yes, see the happy.

Happiness journals were all the rage.  I did not make one, but I wish I had. It would have had stuff like, did not search out new life in Taiwan today.  Happy!

The last few weeks I have again focused myself on seeing the happy that is all around.

Again, the universe answered and the happy's have been showing up for work again.

This time, I have caught some of them with my camera.

Using one of Grandma June's mixing bowls.











Trent and his triple binky trick.  Talent runs in his blood.

Picking up kids from school.

Sammy's homework.
So worth the -2 points.











Elves in diapers.

Minstrels at my fingertips.

"Joy is what happens to us when we allow ourselves to recognize how good things really are." Marianne Williamson

Resolution #1

My mind is being bullied.

Thoughts of New Years Eve approaching have been tramping around.

Making, and keeping, my resolutions is important. Using the toaster more (2009). Check. Eating a cupcake every time one is offered (2010). Check.  Eat more ice-cream (2008). Check.

Fail safe resolutions are key.

Except, fail safe equals easy.

Too easy.

Several quotes by Marianne Williamson are working their way into my resolution planning for 2011. This one in particular keeps laying around the house and looking at me.

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

Seriously, a deep thought resolution? Why couldn't I have been inspired to work more M & M's into my life in 2011?

Monday Nov. 15th-LONDON

This morning the alarm went off and I couldn't move.

Could. Not. Move.

The big fluffy bed I laid in was bought for Dave and me when we visited in April, sooooo, technically speaking, isn't it part mine (go with me here), and no part of me was ready to part with it.

With all the exertion I could muscle I pushed myself into moving.

By 7:45 Cecelia and I were out the door.  I begged her not to go with me to the airport, but rather to stay home and take care of Chris, it was his 50th birthday, and when you get to that age every minute counts, you know?  She wasn't having it.

So after a teary goodbye to Chris,  we ushered each other out the door.

We rode the tube with two of Cecelia's friends nearly all the way to Heathrow.  Once we arrived it was just us.  Oh my, the prolonged goodbye's hurt.

We made it to security and both our eyes were brimming.   I tried to suck-it-up, but it was useless.  It pushed me over the edge when going through the security line she yelled "love ya my littl' darling!"  Could she have been crueler!?  To say I had to breathe deep would be the least of it. My heart felt sick. When will I see her again?  Months?  Years?

That girl is a soul changer.  I have learned so, so much from her.

Once I had my tear fit I was on my way.

The plane boarded and I found my window seat.  Dave had gone through the seating and had moved me around so I could, hopefully, be in a row alone.

Bingo.  I had my own row.

Not to say I was tired or anything, but I woke up when my head whapped into the window, and we were still waiting to take off.

The views were amazing the entire ride. Well, what I saw in-between my 3 naps anyways.

Nine hours later we arrived in Atlanta, and, as much as I enjoyed my travels, GOD BLESS AMERICA!

On the Atlanta to SLC flight the plane was packed.  The gal that sat by me was a young blonde whom I had to do a double take of to make sure she was wearing pants.  They were that short.


I made all my assumptions of who she was as she talked on her cell phone (before take-off), played on it, listened to music, and glanced magazines.

I kept my nose in my book not giving her a second glance. Then, I thought about how Cecelia would act in my place.  She would have made a great friend by now while I was busy judging her.

So, I offered her the blanket that was stashed in the bottom of my bag.  Surely her super-tan legs were cold?  She did not take my blanket, but we did start talking.  She is actually a recent church convert that is attending  UVSC and has a BYU boyfriend.  She is working on her nursing degree and works at the hospital.

Quite a different person that I had assumed!

When we exited the plane  several people saw how short her shorts were and laughed.  She noticed.  I felt so bad that she just didn't know that people around here don't wear things like that (especially in November!) and that she had been judged just the way I had judged her.

It was now 9:15 Utah time, 3:15 A.M. London time.  My head was swimming.   All I had to do was get to Dave, and I would finally be able to rest.

When I finally reached him I gave him a Hollywood Mormon Hug Scene (risque, huh?) He tried to get out of my hug 3 times, but I wasn't having it.  I was sooo tired and had traveled around the world to see him, and dog-gone-it, I was going to get a long hug out of him!

On the drive home I was very, very thankful for him driving.  I could not see straight through the exhaustion to save my life.

Once home my mom-in-law was relieved of house sitting (thanks Marilyn!) I snuck into each of our kiddies room and kissed their sweet cheeks .


There is no place like home!