_   "Anybody can do just about anything with himself that he really wants to and makes his mind to do. We are capable of greater than we realize."
- Norman Vincent Peale, author

On June 1, 2010 I became a runner. Prior to that date I would run occasionally, because I wanted to lose the last few pounds I still had since having my daughter. My run on June 1st was different; I was in training now. Running had a concrete purpose because I was signed up to run my first 5k. I had the plan, the running buddy, and the treadmill downstairs, which meant I had to complete the race. Those first few training runs were amazing. Every step I took which made that run the “longest I had ever run” felt surreal. It was hard, but worth every ounce of pain. 

Since that race, I have completed five half-marathons, a few 5ks, one 10k, and even a triathlon (which I thought was by far the hardest thing I have ever done in my life.) However, it was not until this past Saturday, November 12th that I did something that I never even thought I would want to do in my lifetime - I ran my first marathon! 26.2 miles of pure excitement, pain at times, and making memories that will last forever! 

I ran with my best friend. We talked about everything we could think of. We ran all over Richmond. We ran through neighborhoods that made us want to move, over bridges with some sort of construction machines our sons would have loved to see, and over the finish line actually sprinting! We paused at every mile marker to get a picture taken by my friend's wonderful husband and our “coach.” We just took in the entire experience and embraced what were doing. 26.2 miles was hard. At mile 21 my legs started cramping. I was able to run to the finish line by drinking Power Aide at every mile marker. However, I never “hit the wall.” I never felt like I could not finish and actually I finished strong!  We wanted to finish in under five hours, even if that meant 4:59:59 was on the race clock. I haven't even looked at my official time yet, but my Garmin said 4:53.

Will I run another marathon? Yes, I will. However, I am not planning the next one at this time. I often compared training for the marathon to being pregnant, and that the race was when I would have my baby. The four plus months of training, arranging baby sitters so I could do incredibly long training runs, all while trying to be a good mom and wife was difficult. Crossing the finish line made all of those challenges worth it, and the next time I do run another marathon I want to feel the same way. I don't want to rush into picking one for next year just because I am still experiencing the runner's high. In my opinion a marathon is too big to just do it and really enjoy it, but something that a runner at my experience level needs to really think about before signing up. With that said I know some runners out there that have said I will never run a marathon…I was one of them and now I can say I am a marathoner! If you are thinking about running a marathon you can do it! I am living proof! 

Written by: Elizabeth Smithson

Do you ever wish you could leave a piece of your body at home when you leave for a run? Maybe a nagging knee, an aching back, or an upset stomach. Your whole body feels great, except this 1 part and you know, no matter how hard you try to push the pain, annoyance or discomfort away, it's going to be there and it's going to make the run TERRIBLE.

The other day I was eager to get out and run. The weather has been fantastic and I know my days are numbered for how long I can get away with running in shorts. I set out to do a quick 2 or 3 miles and decided on a route I haven't taken in awhile. As I was making way through the neighborhood I was getting warmed up and felt great. I was definitely geared up for a successful run. However, something happened once I reached the main road. My brain decided to join the run and it wasn't very happy.

See, my brain started to tell me all of these evil things about my body. It told me that my right ankle was popping out of the socket every time I touched down on the road. It told me that my left foot had a twinge and that my bone was probably breaking again. It told me that I had stomach cramps, and maybe I shouldn't have eaten such a big lunch. It told me that I couldn't breathe, because I had a cold last week. It just kept going and going and going and everything that it said I BELIEVED.

My own brain ruined my run. It made something that should have been so easy, so cathartic, into something that I absolutely hated. I wanted to just sit down on the side of the road a mile away from house and cry. My brain made me second guess why I even run, and how in the world did I manage to run TWENTY SIX (point 2) miles just a mere 5 months ago? Despite the misery I was feeling, I made my legs continue on the run. I tried to push the evil thoughts out of my brain and think about how great I was feeling, but nothing I did or even said (yes, I talked to myself) could get my brain on board with the run.

When I got home I was beyond annoyed. If only I could have left my brain at home, my run would have been great. All of the conditions were in my favor for a great run, but I couldn't escape the nagging, annoying thoughts that I couldn't accomplish what I had set out to do. It's amazing how much the brain can overcome what you're trying to achieve. When these types of runs happen, I try to remember that a bad run does not define the type of runner that I am. I can overcome a bad run. I can and will have another run where everything is in tune and in sync. As Dr. Seuss says, "You have brains in your head. You have feet in your (running) shoes. You can steer yourself in any direction you choose." There are definitely days when it would be easier to leave my brain at home; running with only the feet in my shoes. To be able to avoid the reminder that I am not always feeling my best, despite my best efforts, would be amazing. But with out my brain, will I know if I can succeed? I need my brain on the good runs to say, "Yes! You will indeed! (98 3/4 percent guaranteed)."

Run Hard,
Run Strong,
Run for You,
Holly

How do you find the balance in life? This is a question I'm not sure I'll ever be able to answer. Each and every single one of my days has a different story. I can't predict what any day is going to look like, and if I try, boy do I find that I get smacked in the face by the unexpected. Each day I just do my best to make time for my kids, my husband, my home and myself. However, that's a lot easier to type than it is to execute.

This morning, I was awoken by my son, Zachary. He came into my room and with a raspy voice and said, "Mommy, I have a headache." I had already barely slept last night because I was keeping an ear out for him. He has been coming down with something and has had a nasty, barking cough. If your child has ever had this cough, you know exactly what I'm talking about. So, at 6:30 this morning I am on auto-pilot. I will have to get him to the pediatrician and he definitely will not be going to school. Our normal routine was skewed and the sun hadn't even come up yet.

After a quick shower, and getting through to the doctor, I got everyone ready to go. Before leaving the house I checked my email, and found a reminder that I'm supposed to catch-up with a friend tonight. Then I turned the corner and saw the 10 loads of laundry in the mud room that I had planned on tackling while Zachary was in school. Also, what's for dinner, who is going to write my blog for tomorrow, scrub the toilets before the health department shuts me down, unload the dishwasher, hide the Halloween candy lest I eat it all, and perhaps, RUN A FEW MILES FOR ME????? It's 8 am and I'm already over my head in tasks that I can't figure out how to balance.

Thankfully, Zachary only has a virus and has been enjoying the comforts of our couch. I have managed to climb over Mt. Laundry and get a few loads shoved into the washer, scrub the offending toilet, get a meal in the crockpot (not in that order though, that would be gross), unloaded and loaded the dishwasher, and I'm half way through this here blog and it's only 2:15! Winning! I did not, however, find a good hiding place for the candy. It's a good thing, as it is fueling me to be awesome this afternoon.

So, balance. Have I found it? I still don't know! I could skip running this evening and enjoy dinner with my family before going to catch-up with my friend. But then, I find I'm lacking an important part of the equation; me time. If I don't do things for myself, who will? I mean, yes, my husband does plenty for me, and the kids give me hugs and awesome messes to clean up to keep me feeling needed. I do need to make my bed with the sheets that are still not washed on the mudroom floor, so that's something for me, I suppose. It's not enough though. If I don't get to put on my running clothes, clear my head and get a little sweaty, I will go to bed feeling lopsided; metaphorically speaking. (Well, unless the 10 tons of candy makes it's way to one ass cheek and not the other).

No matter how exhausted I may be, and how much of myself I give to other people throughout the day, I will always try to achieve balance. The best thing about being a runner is, no matter how many miles long my list may be, I can always run my way to the top of it.

Run Hard,
Run Strong,
Run for You,
Holly

I am SO excited. My husband, Rich, has started to dabble in the world of running. He has never been a "runner" but he did run in high school for various sports. After two, very recent, back surgeries he has been taking it easy with exercising, and trying to do low impact cardio. However, I passed the bug onto him. He has been listening to me ramble on and on about my running and he's taking the plunge, slowly.

This weekend, after an amazingly relaxing day of shopping without the kids, Rich asked me if I wanted to do a short run on the trail with him. I was so excited that we would finally get to run together. Though, I was feeling lousy from a head cold and running would breach my "1 week off after the 1/2 marathon promise" I had with myself, I just wanted to get out there and experience something I love so much, with the person I love so much.

We both quickly changed into running clothes and headed for the trail. I was downright giddy about this run, a feeling I haven't had in awhile. In the 11 years we've been together, running is something we've never done as a couple. We were embarking on a new adventure! I will be honest, I wasn't sure if I would like having him out there with me. Running has been an activity I do with my girls, or alone. It's a break from everything familiar and constant. I use running for escape and my sole sisters are my sounding board for all of my vents. I was worried how we would "mesh" out there. Yes, I was worried how I would get along with my husband while we were running. Think about it, I was letting him into MY sport. It's like him inviting me to play football with his buddies, and him worrying I would go all girly on the field when my nail broke from the hard damn ball that was winged at me. You can see where I'm coming from, right?

We picked a section of the trail that had a small grade and set out to do 2 miles (his choice). I told him we would run at his pace, due to my head cold and stiff half marathon muscles, I was willing to go easy on him. The weather was absolutely perfect and there was a good amount of people out walking, biking and running. We headed south and fell into stride pretty quickly. I had to have been grinning from ear to ear running next to him. We chatted about a few things and he asked me some questions about running. I gave him a few tips about his form, and some pointers on how to lower the impact on his back by changing his gait. I also showed him my "coffee cup trick" for easing the tension in your shoulders (ask me about that one, it's pretty nice) and we just glided along. We reached the 1 mile turn around in what felt like 5 minutes. As we turned around, Rich mentioned that we ran a mile in under 10 minutes (he has been averaging closer to 10:30 minutes per mile). I laughed and told him that tends to happen when you run with someone else, and you're enjoying it.

When we made it back to the 2 mile marker, I was disappointed. I wished we could have spent a lot more time out there having uninterrupted chatting. I would have ran with him for days to catch up on life, sans children hanging from our legs and demanding our undivided attention. We ended the run feeling refreshed, energized and happy. I felt like we had fallen in love all over again, and it only took 20 minutes. I love that after 11 years together we can continue to open new chapters in our relationship. This chapter can take us anywhere, anytime, and I hope that soon it will take us over a finish line, together, just us.

Run Hard,
Run Strong,
Run for You,
Holly

“Running has never failed to give me great end results, and that's why I keep coming back for more!” ~ Sasha Azevedo

Now what? That's the first question that popped into my head the second I crossed the finish line this past Sunday. Well, maybe it was after I got my medal, chugged my bottle of water, become reoriented with the world at a stand still and caught my breath. This weekend I completed my first half marathon. Yeah, I like to do things backwards. I wasn't even an hour post race before I started chatting about what I was going to do next. Before I had even completed the San Diego marathon I had signed up for the Hershey 1/2. I didn't want a lull in my training, because I knew I'd slack off and not run the weekly miles that I should. But now, now, I find myself in a lull. I have no race, no schedule, no prize to seek. I have "off" for the next 3 months.

This is the first time since last January that I don't have a race on the "books." I just completed 10 months (minus 6 weeks of broken foot hiatus) of training. I trained for eight and a half months straight, averaging 20 to 40 miles per week!!! I know in retrospect that's nothing compared to the amount a lot of runners do in a year. However, for me, it's huge. Before I started training for San Diego I maybe worked out 2 hours per week. Running 1 mile a week felt like a huge accomplishment.

Lately, it's been a bit of a whirlwind around Chez Chisolm. I have been adjusting to my son's daily school schedule, my daughter's StoryPlay group, play date schedule, a little afternoon side job, two weeknight sports, and general, everyday living. In addition to my training schedule, it has left me feeling a little overwhelmed. The thing is, I thrive under pressure. I love having a lot on my plate. It makes me feel wanted, needed and special. When things slow down I find myself bored, and longing for chaos.

My running schedule helps me manage that chaos, in some odd way. I feel a sense of control over my hectic day knowing that I will get to do something that I love. Somewhere in between school drop-off, laundry and dinner cooking, I will get to run. But somewhere, deep down inside, I'm sick of the schedule. I'm tired of eating, sleeping and breathing according to a schedule. I had great satisfaction taking the training schedule off of the refrigerator and throwing it away yesterday.

Then, here I am today, faced with the "now what's?" Training for my next event (ahem, another marathon!) isn't starting for another 3 months. We all know the winter is a tough time for runners. It's cold, the roads are icy, beds are warm and toasty. I am definitely going to keep running during this interim, and frequently. My goal is to maintain a 20 to 30 mile per week average with my long runs being no shorter than 10 miles. The fun part is that I get to make my own schedule, and if I miss a run, it won't matter. I am going to get back to running just for me, not because I'm training, not because I have a race to prepare for, just because. It will be nice to head and just run any distance on any given day. If I'm feeling good and I want to do 4 instead of my "scheduled" 2, good! I'm going to turn those "now what's?" into "so what's?"

The other day my kids each put on one of my Bondi Bands and raced around the house in their pajamas. I had the best time watching them run with reckless abandon. They didn't care about anything, except for the fact that they were "running like mommy." It was so inspiring to watch them run, and be happy. They weren't going anywhere in particular, they weren't wearing a watch to see how far they had gone, they were just running for the fun of it, and that is what I plan to do for the next 3 months.

Run Hard,
Run Strong,
Run for You,
Holly

When I was training for my first marathon, my dad, an eight-time marathoner, said to me, “Anyone can physically run a marathon. I’m proud of you because of how much mental strength and determination it takes.”

Running is 90% mental (or so they say, although my knees are telling me a different story these days). Sure, you have to get your body into physical shape in order to run well, but pushing through mental blocks can be much harder to do at times. One of the best ways for me to overcome hitting a mental wall is to tell myself: pain is temporary; pride is forever.

I don’t think anything else sums up the mental vs. physical fight that occurs during a race as well as this does. It’s inevitable that, during a race, you’re going to get tired and you’re going to want to quit. Hitting a wall during a long run is not fun. But when this happens, think about the last two, three, or ten miles you have left. Can you handle that? Can you get through that? Yes, you can, and once you do, you’ll be able to say you’ve completed your goal, be it your first marathon, your second half marathon, or your 5k personal best. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other and push yourself. It may not be fun for a while, but no one can ever take this accomplishment away from you once you’re finished. After all, you trained hard for this, so make your moment count.

Isn’t the glory worth a little pain?

Every runner this Saturday at the Baltimore Running Festival should be proud of themselves. Each and every person has set a goal and has worked hard to achieve that goal. So put yourself out of your comfort zone and think about crossing that finish line when you’ve hit a wall. Think of the pride you’ll feel knowing you finished your first 5k or third half marathon. Crossing the finish line is something you’ve strived for since you signed up, and it’s a fulfilling, proud moment that you deserve. After all, you’ve done this for YOU, which is one of the best reasons to run!

I’ve run one marathon, and am about to run my second this Saturday in Baltimore. I am already dreading the colored bridge over 83. You know the one. It’s orange, yellow, and uphill (and a long, steady hill at that). Oh, did I mention it’s at about mile 22 for the marathoners and mile 9 for the half marathoners? How convenient! I remember trekking up that hill in 2006 and repeating this phrase to myself over and over: pain is temporary; pride is forever. I told myself, “Just get up this hill and run four more miles, and you will be a marathoner, and no one can ever take that away from you.” It worked.

So this Saturday, just keep putting one foot in front of the other, push yourself, and think of that pride you’ll have knowing what you accomplished at the 2011 Baltimore Running Festival. As Billy Ocean once sang, “when the going gets tough, the tough get going.”Pain is only temporary, but you’ll have that pride forever, and no one can take that away from you.

Get it, ladies.

Written by: Amy Garland, T2M2R guest blogger

I'm not unique in any way, really.  My story is not tragic and I admit that the adversity or challenges that I have faced training for races this year including the IronGirl triathlon and Baltimore Half Marathon, pale in comparison to the inspiring and tough women out there battling illness, tragedy, real hardships.  There are soooo many women like me out there (which has kept me going up many hills by the way, so thank you to all of you).  However, this year of training was VERY different than in previous years.  I have completed 5 triathlons in the past, 1 marathon, 4 half marathons, 3 ten milers, and various 10ks and 5ks-too many to count.  I pretty much have always trained alone, raced alone, iced alone, recovered alone (besides the massive amounts of support and sometimes coaching from my husband). 

Having always led an active life, I wondered how it would be after giving birth to our daughter in January of this year. It was a lot harder than I imagined!  Putting your body physically back together (OUCH, I mean did anyone else’s pelvis still feel miles apart?), fitting in time to train & sleep, being a new Mommy, fighting off hormonal swings, being a supportive wife & teammate, going back to work full time (thank goodness I have a good sleeping baby) and holding it all together is tough.  I have learned that those challenges are hard enough and I am thankful I have my health and husband as my greatest support systems.  This year, kind of unexpectedly, I have also found such a loving and inspiring network of active moms, running moms, endurance moms (ALL OF YOU) that have inspired me to keep moving forward.   I no longer feel like I am training alone, racing alone, recovering alone.  This new camaraderie, network, encouragement and love filled a void that I didn’t know existed in me, when life threw me a major challenge (even the happiest and most amazing challenge of having a baby).

I train, I run, I race to be stronger for me, to be stronger for my family, to be a role model one day for my 9 month old daughter! 

Here’s to all of the SOLE SISTERS out there and to mine….

I am an ugly runner. I trudge over the pavement. I do not float. I sweat, a LOT! When my body temperature rises, so too does the color of my skin. It progresses from tan, to pink, to a horrible blotchy red rash. On any given run, I am fighting shin splints, back pain, or neck and shoulder tension. My breathing becomes so marked that I sound like I am hyperventilating. Snot runs freely from my nose or from my nose into my throat giving my marked breathing a sickening rattle. I cough. I spit. I gag. I am uncomfortably aware of my wiggly parts. I am the antithesis of a pretty runner.

About six years ago, while running in front of Loyola College (now Loyola University) on Charles Street in Baltimore, Maryland, I lifted my head to determine my progress as I climbed what seemed like a never ending hill, only to see a very tall, very thin girl running toward me. With a high blonde ponytail that swung like a perfectly timed pendulum, and a light bouncing step, she trotted by me with ease. Her porcelain skin and unwrinkled matching Nike outfit were noticeably free of perspiration. As I trudged along in my bargain running clothes with sweat dripping steadily from my hair and forehead into my eyes, it took a considerable amount of will power NOT to stick out my foot and watch Little Miss Perfect face plant on the cement; tearing holes in her completely dry and unwrinkled outfit, while simultaneously scraping the skin off of her porcelain complexion and skewing her perfectly proportioned features.

Over the years, I have often been reminded of this run; while negotiating raised sidewalks, pot holes, and traffic in the Baltimore neighborhood of Roland Park as elite athletes with long smooth strides glided gazelle like by me; or while sweating buckets during humid summer days at the beach as college girls trotted by in sports bras, the only apparent bounce occurring in their perky little breasts. However, I was reminded of this moment most recently while running the Stone House Museum Half Marathon on September 11.

I began training eight weeks before the race, two weeks less than I had trained for last year’s Kingdom Challenge. The two-week loss in training, however, did not worry me since I had been running consistently throughout the summer. Two weeks into training my attitude changed as the height of the summer’s heat and humidity kicked into full gear. Every run felt like a struggle. The majority of runs were far slower than I had anticipated. My training regimen was inconsistent, due partially to an utter lack of motivation born from frustration with my training performance. Though the last eight weeks had been ugly, leaving me feeling physically, mentally, and emotionally unprepared, I forced myself to reassess my goals and slipped into bed the night before the race with only the hope of finishing, regardless of my time.

I woke up on September 11 to plentiful sunshine and frost; perfect weather for running. Even more perfect for running through the picturesque Vermont hills. I was less picturesque. Crawling out of bed at six in the morning rarely agrees me. Crawling out of bed to run in a race I am less than enthused about proves an even more frightful sight.

Standing on the starting line waiting for direction from the race coordinator, I began a conversation with a girl in her twenties who was excited to be running her first half marathon. She was what most twenty year olds are…perky, pretty, and peppy. Too peppy, I thought as I stood freezing my ass off while listening to her speak with enthusiasm about the next 13.1 miles.

In an instant, the race began and off she flew, her ponytail bouncing in perfect rhythm to her spring-like easy gait. If I had been next to her tripping her would have been my first thought. However, as I fought to keep her within my sight, I could only imagine her twisting her ankle as she stepped into one of the many potholes scattered across the dirt roads, or slipping on the loose gravel, scraping her ass and smearing dirt down her perfectly pert buttocks. At mile ten, when my energy was waning and my back seizing, she kicked into high gear and I lost sight of her. Forced to focus on finishing the race without the burning flames of envy beneath my bottom, I turned up my iPod, bent my back in an attempt to stretch it, and looked uphill at the last three grueling miles.

As I ran the last few yards to the finish line, I saw the peppy twenty year-old, standing on the sidelines cheering in a relaxed manner as if she had just returned from a day at the spa. Had I not glanced down at my clock and been astonished by my time (I shaved ten minutes off my last half marathon and was the third woman to finish overall) or failed to look into the beaming face of my daughter, my envy would most likely have turned to a deep burning hatred of all perky twenty year-olds. However, my accomplishment combined with the pride my daughter felt for her own accomplishment (she ran the shorter 5k occurring simultaneously as the half marathon) turned this beast into a beauty.

At that moment, I learned that no matter how ugly of a runner I may be, no matter how graceful and easy other’s may appear, my achievements and the achievements of my daughter are the essence of beauty; that though I looked hideous while running it, and even more frightful after running it, I had not only set a goal for my race, but had far surpassed even my own expectations. I had overcome my mental, emotional, and physical roadblocks. I had crossed the finish to look into the beautiful blue eyes of my daughter, who when asked about her own race exclaimed, “I won!”

By: Alyssa Coupe T2M2R guest blogger from Vermont

Fitness

My career as a semi-serious runner began shortly after moving to Baltimore and at the beginning of my third year of college. Always physically active (I played basketball throughout junior high, danced throughout high school, and during the first two years of college ice skated four to five times a week), I found myself three thousand miles away from home, at a new school and in a new town lacking the resources I had previously depended upon for physical exercise. Forming a relationship with Jody, an avid runner, was, therefore, propitious timing.

            When I first met Jody, and for months after meeting him, I was unaware that he was a runner, and an avid one at that. I knew that he swam in high school and college and that he coached two swim teams, a club team and his school’s team. I knew that he played tennis growing up. That he played golf and worked at a golf course one summer. I even knew that, as children, he, his brother, and their friends liked to play Evil Knievil by jumping bikes over each other while lying in the dirt. However, I did not know he ran. That is until I inquired as to his whereabouts after an almost two-week absence from work. He answered, “Ireland with my dad.” “Touring?” I asked. “Yes” he very nonchalantly answered, “but mainly went to run the Dublin Marathon.” I must admit that at that time I had no idea that a marathon entailed running 26.2 miles. My knowledge of marathon distance was limited to “many miles”, especially to run. I believe my jaw was slightly ajar in “ah” at the time. However, I must have appeared the gawking idiot as I pried further, only to find out that Dublin was not his first marathon. In fact, it was his third or fourth in addition to several triathlons.

As our relationship progressed from friendship to formal dating, Jody and I often talked about running and its physical benefits, but more importantly, we discussed the emotional and mental health benefits that he derived from hitting the pavement 5-6 times a week. It was these discussions, my increased lack of physical activity, and my desire to find a sport that did not require gyms, dance studios, or ice rinks that drove me to lace up my running shoes, which I had only ever run in once or twice, and to venture out for my first very painful, pathetically short run.

Confidence

            Not only were my lungs on fire, but I was developing a sharp cramp in my rib cage and I was only a quarter of a mile into what I hoped would be a two mile run. By a half a mile the cramp had worsened, my breathing had quickened, and my legs were beginning to feel gelatinous. However, I pushed on, hoping that I could get into a reasonable pace, take a deep breath, and, if necessary, complete the two miles I had hoped to accomplish without stopping to walk, even if it meant running at a snail’s pace. At three quarters of a mile, I stopped. The cramp had become so severe I could barely stand up straight. My legs were giving out on me and I was gasping for air. I was mad. Make that livid! My body was not doing what I wanted it to do and the confidence I felt ten steps into my run was now ground into the pavement by my sparkling new running shoes. I walked the three quarters of a mile back to my parent’s house feeling hopelessly defeated and questioning whether I would ever do this again.

My therapist once told me that anger is, in reality, a positive emotion. Unfortunately, individual’s negative actions because of anger have made it a taboo emotion. However, anger is a driving force, one that, when used positively can help achieve great things. Thank God, it is not in my nature to surrender gracefully. Otherwise, that first run would have been my last, depriving me of a life long sport, confidence booster, and coping mechanism.

The blind rage I felt at the end of that first run motivated me to venture out again, completing a mile; then again, increasing my runs by another half a mile, until I was running three miles regularly and working my way up to four miles, three to four times a week. During many of these runs, I felt like stopping, throwing my hands up in the air and saying, “Fuck it!” However, the thought of failing fueled my anger, forcing me to ignore the physical pain, silence the negative voices in my head, and focus on the finish.

Soon I was training for my first five-kilometer run, a small fundraiser that began and ended at Jody’s place of employment. Most novice runners would simply strive to finish the race, and if I were not such a perfectionist, I would have been smart to do so. However, being the perfectionist I am, I set two goals for myself. First, I vowed not to stop and walk and any point during the race. Second, I strove to complete the race in thirty minutes or less, a not unreasonable time considering the ten-minute mile average I had been maintaining.

The moment I committed to the race, my nerves were highjacked. The thought of stopping at any point during the race produced tears of frustration. The thought of finishing with more than thirty minutes on the clock made me want to scream. In order to calm my nerves and release some tension, I decided to run the course the race would take three or four times before race day.

Standing on the starting line early that misty Saturday morning, I thought I might vomit. My nerves were wound so tightly they would have twanged if plucked. When the gun went off signaling the start of the race, I stood stunned for a moment before I remembered that I must put one foot in front of the other. Heart pounding in my chest, I took off, remembering that three quarters of the race was a steady uphill climb, and pacing myself was the key to achieving both my goals. I plugged along steadily, watching a handful of individuals sprint by me, stop and walk, then sprint by me again a half a mile later. I trudged on trying to ignore the uphill climb by staring at my feet and the pavement in front of me. While reciting, “I think I can, I think I can” repetitively, I looked up briefly only to realize I had reached the summit. My heart leapt with joy. All I had to conquer was a downhill mile. I crossed the finish line in just over 29 minutes, having run the entire race.  

Driving home that morning, I felt accomplished and confident. I had not only set a goal and achieved it, but also overcome my own doubt and nerves. I had pushed myself both physically and mentally, running a distance that six months before would have been unthinkable. I had competed against myself, and I had won.

Serenity NOW!

            Most of my friends, and a few brave souls that have dared to ask, know that my daughter, Lucy, came into being through In Vitro Fertilization. Less well known is the severe post-partum depression I suffered approximately 5 months after her birth. Having a baby is a life altering experience. An experience that though joyful, is also physically, and emotionally, taxing. The coping mechanisms I had previously used in order to deal with stress, such as a couple of hours alone or the ability to have a good soul cleansing cry, ceased to be options with an infant whose every need I was responsible for meeting. Through intensive therapy, an hour every day when at my worst, I not only got to the heart of my anxiety and depression, but also worked on formulating a list of coping mechanisms that had worked in the past and could be fit into my daily routine with Lu. Conversation after conversation, list after list resulted in one reliable answer: exercise.

            When Lu was small, running was not the best option. We lived in Baltimore city. Pushing a running stroller in the street was unsafe. Pushing the running stroller over the pitted and pitched sidewalks was not only difficult but I feared would give Lu whiplash. Therefore, I turned to walking. The worse I felt, the more I walked. Most days I walked no less than 4 or 5 miles. My schedule soon revolved around my morning walks to Starbucks and when Lu was nine or ten months old, the playground. From 9am until noon, I walked. On the rare occasions Jody was not working, I snuck in a run. That walking, and those periodic runs, not only helped me lose what was left of my pregnancy weight, but also saved my sanity.

            In 2009, Jody and I moved to Vermont to create a better life for ourselves and for Lu. For the first time in the twelve years we had known each other, Jody would only be working one job. Shortly after our move, we began working on a schedule that allowed both of us the opportunity to exercise by alternating days or meeting up at the gym after Jody had had the opportunity to work out. I once again began running three to four times a week and lifting two or three times a week.

            In August of last year, I registered for a half marathon. I trained for ten weeks battling sickness and the inclement weather that a Vermont fall can produce. However, I also treasured those healthy days when my long runs consisted of brilliantly crisp, indescribably beautiful fall days through the Vermont countryside.

The day of the marathon brought with it freezing temperatures and snow. The route, described as moderately hilly by the coordinators, included a thousand foot climb. Despite these factors, I crossed the finish line a mere four minutes shy of my two-hour goal and surprisingly at peace with my “failure”.

            Motherhood, and life, remains as challenging as it did three years ago. The challenges just change with each passing day. The crushing depression I suffered from three years ago, periodically tries to rear its ugly head. However, it is on those bad days that I now lace up my running shoes, plug into my iPod, and bask in the knowledge that the next thirty minutes to an hour will bring me solitude, clarity, and an increasing sense of serenity.

By: Alyssa Coupe T2M2R guest blogger from Vermont

             

T2M2R is my way of working through my grief, so I can help a child overcome theirs. ~ Jamie Roeder

Now that Teacher2Mother2Runner is really taking off (Um, they have a Twitter account!), getting big, gobbling up fans left and right, I need to let you in on a little secret about them. You may not know this, but being a member of T2M2R means you're a part of an amazing organization. If you think T2M2R is just another "mommy running group," you're wrong! I know, I hate when that happens, too.

You may have stumbled upon T2M2R because a friend mentioned them and you figured "why not?" You may have been drawn by the cute logo. You may be hopeful that you're going to win the next item of swag from Treasure Chest Tuesday (I know I am!) You may be a teacher, a mother, and a runner or at least fit the bill of one of those. Or you may have joined so you could be a part of something that is a lot bigger than all of that.

When I was first introduced to T2M2R I had no idea what they were all about. I 'liked' them on Facebook because I am a mother and a runner. They promised that even if you weren't a teacher by profession you were still welcome to join. I didn't learn what the purpose of the group was until I went on an 8 mile run with one of the founders of the group, Jamie. She told me her story about the losses of parents she endured in her life and instantly I felt like I needed to do more and really get involved.

I lost my dad four years ago. It feels surreal to even type that. Wow, four years. As an adult, losing my parent has been terribly difficult. I miss him each and every day. My dad was always there for me as a kid when I was involved in sports. He was the one who cheered (i.e., coached) for me from the bench during my Little League softball games. He drove to my track meets after long days at work and watched me in my events, even if I only ran 1 race that lasted a few minutes. I can't imagine him not being there during my childhood. While training for my marathon I kept him with me. I knew he was cheering for me along the way even though I couldn't hear him. After finishing my first marathon, I called my mom to let her know how I did (that I was alive). When I hung up, I felt an emptiness. There was one more person I wanted to call, but he wasn't there to answer.

As painful as it is to not have my dad around now, I can't imagine losing him when I was much younger. If he missed those softballs games, track meets and wasn't around to play catch with, I'm not sure how I would have coped. Fortunately there is an organization, Comfort Zone Camp, that helps kids cope with the loss of a parent or loved one. Teacher2Mother2Runner brings awareness to this camp, which is offered as a free service to kids, and helps them get funding. They also donate to the camp as well. Pretty awesome, right?

You may have been going around telling people that you're a part of this great running group, full of inspiring women, which is all true. However, you're also doing a lot more. The more support and recognition T2M2R can get will translate into how much more they can give to the Comfort Zone Camp. So don't be afraid to drink the kool-aid and share it with a friend. That's why I'm here. That's why I write a weekly blog, and that's one of the many reasons I run.

Run Hard,
Run Strong,
Run For You,

Holly