Cheri & I after the race

The morning of the marathon, I woke early.  I drank some coffee and continued deliberating in my mind what pace team I was going to try to stick with.  The pace teams are separated by celebrities marathon race times.  If you’re only doing the half marathon, you can divide it in half to see your ending time.  I was stuck between Will Ferrel’s time and P. Diddy.  Will had finished in about 3:58 and Diddy 4:14.  My goal was 1:59 (just under 2hrs).  But was that realistic?  I would have to run 25 seconds/mile faster than I had done the Bridge run to accomplish that goal.  Was that feasible to start out that fast or would I burn out?  I still hadn’t decided as I met up with Cheri to drive downtown.

Parking was harder this year.  It seemed that there were a lot more people or we were a bit later than the previous year.  Cheri and I finally found an empty spot at a meter.  We put on all our gear and headed to the Burger King across from the start of the race to use the facilities.  Let me tell you, what a great idea that was!  I don’t even think it was 30 degrees that morning and it was nice to warm up our muscles and wait out the time inside a warm building.  The BK employees seemed unbothered by the flock of runners in their restaurant and the people that were eating watched in amusement as all of us in tight spandex stretched out.

It was nearing race time and I found the P. Diddy pace team to line up.  I figured it would be better to run with them and if I felt strong enough to pull away, I could later.  We stood in the cold waiting and anticipating the starting buzzer.  Nervous butterflies flew and fluttered in my belly as I bounced in place, trying to warm my legs.

If you’ve never ran in a race, let me tell you that the start is a little anticlimactic.  Unless you’re super fast, you’re going to be further behind and when the buzzer sounds, your heart flips but you just stand there.  A moment later, you might begin your walk to the starting line and eventually (in our case 1min later), you actually cross it.  Finally, we were there and we started running. 

The first 4 miles were through downtown this year.  We’d loop around and cross the Grand River a couple of times before heading to the trail.  It was a nice contrast of city/nature and the change of scenery was pleasant.  The morning was cold and we were layered.  Dan & the kids would be waiting at mile 4 and we could toss our top layer to him at that time but I was warmed up and ready to shed at mile 2. 

I wish I could say that I felt amazing running that day.  I would have loved to be in the same euphoric state that the Bridge Run held for me this year but honestly, I wasn’t.  The pervasive illness that had started a week before was plaguing me.  My body didn’t really hurt but it didn’t seem to be appreciating the strain I was putting on it.  I tried to focus on seeing my babies faces at mile 4.  Surely, that would change everything. 

Running is such a mental game and flipping the switch in your brain can really change it all.  I saw Dan standing there, Emma laying on the grass and Gerrit sitting on the ground all waiting to watch me run by.  I couldn’t help but smile and wave like an idiot as I approached.  It warmed my heart and gave me a boost of energy to see them and know that they were cheering me on.  Like a shotblok to my soul.  I tossed them my vest and continued on with determination in my step.

The trail was a couple of miles up the road and I looked forward to a fall color show as the sun lifted into the cold autumn sky.  Cheri and I continued on, commenting briefly on how the scenery was beautiful.  As the trail curved and rose, we could see a long line of runners ahead.  It’s amazing to see that many people all striving together, working towards their goal.  We kept our talking to a minimum and focused on staying with our pace team.

By mile 7, we were really wondering where the heck the GU was!  The course was relatively flat, with just some small hills.  Still, the pace we were keeping was quick and we were looking forward to that pick me up.  Finally, we spotted the GU just before the half marathon turnaround at the 8.5mile marker.  The full marathon runners kept on and we turned around.  Somehow, during the transition, I lost the pace team. 

I picked it up a notch, trying to locate them.  How had I lost so much time grabbing GU?  The turnaround was awkward and I had to change my gait while doing it.  Where was the pace team?  I left Cheri behind me in my scramble to suck down my GU and widen my stride.  It was nearly mile 10 when I came up on them and I knew it was decision time.  If I stayed with P. Diddy pacers, I would finish 2:07.  That would be much better than my time from last year but not the goal I had in mind.  As I approached the red shirted pacers, I knew I would regret it if I hung loose with them and didn’t push myself harder.  It was do or die time.  I passed them and braved the rest of the race alone. 

Back to the city I ran.  Passed the loud speakers and strangers cheering us on.  You can do it!  You’re awesome!  They clapped and gave us a thumbs up sign.  A lady rocked out on a fake guitar to the music blaring and it made me laugh.  I passed the water stations, I passed trees, I passed people.  What a difference!  Last year, I felt passed by so many and now, I was charging ahead.

I checked my Garmin for my time and mileage.  I had 1.5 miles left and a little over 10 min to accomplish my goal.  It seemed impossible.  I quickened my pace.  I reached mile 12 and I hit a wall.  My legs were tired, my determination waning.  I felt discouragement that I wasn’t going to hit my goal time but tried to remain positive.

1 more mile, Chris, 1 more mile.  You can always run 1 mile.  1 mile isn’t anything.  You can always run 1 more mile.  You can do this.  Keep going. 

I find sometimes always that trash talking helps me during a difficult time and I tried that for a while.  Suck it Wealthy street!  You can’t stop me.  Go to hell street light.  I ain’t stopping.  I’m almost there.  My mind started singing the line from Yes, Anastasia… we’ll see how brave you are, we’ll see how fast you’ll be running.  Yes, we will see won’t we?

Finally, I saw the finish line.  It still felt so far away!  I checked my Garmin again and struggled to keep my pace.  My eyes scanned the crowd looking for Dan & the kids.  I knew if I saw them, I could do it.  I heard my name and my heart lifted. 

Scanning the crowd for Dan & the kids

I see them ahead!

When I heard them cheer me on, I pushed it.  I gave it all I had and finished as big as I could.

Big finish time

As I crossed the finish line, I checked my time…

I was surprised at the emotion that I felt when I finished.  I found Dan and hugged him.  I was proud of my time and what I had accomplished.  It choked me up for a second.  My results last year were

Quite a difference!  It felt good to smash it and I was so proud of Cheri for her time as well.  We both took a tremendous amount of time off and that feels good. 

Emma, Gerrit & I after the race.

I had planned on writing about the marathon today.  The kids & I have been enduring the ’sickness’ that is flying through the schools and I just didn’t have it in me to emote the events of the race until I felt a little better.  I’ll have to save it for a nearby date though.  A black cloud moved into my life last night and I feel like I need to get it out before I can move on.

I found out last night that a very dear friend of mine has breast cancer.  And while knowing that detail, the rest seems to be unknown at this time.  To say I felt like I had gotten hit by a Mack truck would be an understatement.  I had known that a biopsy had been done and was expecting results yesterday but my mind immediately chose to believe the best.  I didn’t realize how much I had expected the news to be good until I faced the alternative. 

My throat choked with sorrow and I took a deep breath to try to swallow down a sob.  Her son had called me to give me the news and it seemed incredibly unfair to cry to him about it.  I struggled to compose myself, my mind racing with questions.  How far has it gone?  What’s the next step?  How is she?  How is all of her family handling this news?  My brain seemed unable to absorb all the information.

I hung up and felt it all.  Sorrow, worry, fear, hope, love.  I haven’t had to experience this diagnosis with someone so close to me.  Cancer is all around us.  People are diagnosed everyday.  But I’ve been spared dealing with it.  Now, it feels like a flood.  Like a little earthquake has come and shaken up my life.  In Tori Amos’ song Little Earthquakes, she says ‘doesn’t take much to rip us into pieces’.  That’s so true.  Until I know more about the diagnosis, my heart is just tilting on the verge, waiting to shatter… waiting to be whole.

My friend is amazing.  She’s stronger than I could ever be.  She’s a fighter and an overcomer.  I’ll be strong for her and we’ll get through this.  As she told me “we ran a half marathon… we can do anything”.  Her strength is inspiring and her soul is beautiful.  We’ll fight, we’ll conquer and we’ll grow in the journey.

16hrs before my race.  It’s hard to believe that 3 months of training is coming to an end.  The purpose of it will be here soon enough.  194.28 miles and 31hrs 51 min logged.  All the preparation is over now, leaving only anticipation.  The butterflies in your belly, the rumbling in your bowels.  Wherever your body delivers it’s nerves, you’ll feel it.  Questions start to overwhelm your mind.  Doubt and worry.  Did I train enough?  Should I have done more?  Will my body be able to fulfill my expectations? 

Last year, I didn’t know if I’d be able to run.  Injuries had waylaid my training and I was left to wonder if I was even able to start the race, could I finish it?  Time wasn’t so much a concern as much as just completing it.  This year, I feel more evolved.  Months of conditioning have (hopefully) left my body in much better physical condition.  Miles of running alone has (hopefully) left my mind better conditioned.  But the doubts, they still remain.  Can I finish in the time I want?  Will I be strong enough to pull it off?

They say that running is mostly mental and I believe that.  Long distance running more so, I think.  The longer to think and talk to yourself.  What do you tell yourself while the miles go along?  Do you say how hard it is?  How big that hill is?  Or do you tell yourself that you’re awesome, that ain’t no hill and you feel great?  Most days, I manage the latter but not every run is great.  When I’m thinking negative and telling myself how much I hate it, they tend to be awful.  Perspective can change it all.

The longer I run, the more I feel like it’s a physical manifestation of how I’d like to live my life.  They say if you want to run long distances, you have to accept pain.  If you want to grow, it’s got to happen.  And at some point, you have to decide to take in that pain, acknowledge it and move past it.  Reaching and stretching for that next mile, not thinking of the miles passed behind you.  Breaking mental barriers.  How far you think you can go, how fast you think you can do it.  Becoming that person you would like to be.  How true is that of life?  Into every life, a little rain must fall.  We’ll all experience pain and sorrow.  It’s part of the game.  It seems the people that make it the distance seem to not focus so much on what pain they’re in or have been but on where they’re going.  The life ahead of them. 

Tomorrow, I’m racing.  They’ll be tons of people around me but the only person I’ll be competing against is myself.  13.1 miles closer to the better me.

Apparently, the housing market is so good that even Emma is looking for her first home. 

It started about 2 wks ago.  The house across the street that had been abandoned (refresh your memory here) a year and a half ago, was finally bought.  I guess Emma had been planning on living there someday when she was grown and this threw a wrench in her plans. 

Never the type to get discouraged, she began a new search for her house of the future.  Everywhere we drive now, she points out ones that she likes and makes a mental note where they are located.  Our trips in the van have become quite entertaining and have left me laughing in my head, listening to Emma & Gerrit’s conversations.

Emma told Gerrit: “I’m going to have my husband paint my house pink”

Which I thought was nice.  Here she is only 6 but already creating a honey do list for her future husband.  That poor man has no idea what’s in store for him.

Emma: “Gerrit, do you want to live next to me and be my neighbor?”

Gerrit: “Yeah, cuz even when we’re grown up, I’ll still be your brother.”

Emma has offered to help Gerrit paint his house green.  Which I guess she’ll have time to help him since her own house will be getting painted by her hubby. 

And you can tell she’s really thinking this through because she asked me the other day ”Mommy, can you drive me to my house when I move into it?”

Me: “You’ll be old enough to drive yourself by the time you buy your own house, Em”

Emma replies with a slight note of annoyance in her voice: “Well yeah, but you’ll have to drive me to the license place to get my drivers license first” 

The other day, they spotted townhouses.  They thought they had hit the jackpot!  I tried for about 4min to dissuade them of their choice.  I started listing all the drawbacks of a townhouse vs a single dwelling home and then it dawned on me that I was trying to rationalize a home purchase with a 6 & 5 year old.

Since July, I’ve been training again for my half marathon in October.  I gave myself 3 more weeks of training this year to make it a solid 13weeks.  My friends, Cheri & Megan, agreed to do the race together just like we had last year.  After consulting our schedules, we decided we’d have to train separately during the week and do our long runs together on the weekends.

In the beginning, it wasn’t so bad.  I learned the joy of running by myself.  Quiet time to think and release the tension of the day.  Smelling the wonderful aroma of summer and watching nature as I went by.  The longer runs, which are pretty short in the beginning of training, were good.  Megan and I managed to get our 4 and 5 mile runs in together before it was obvious that her IT band was not going to tolerate the grueling miles any longer.  She’d have to be out this year as well as our friend Amy.  Team Hottie was chopped in half.

Cheri and I continued our training.  Our lives were so jam packed full of things that we’d have to work our runs into whatever time we could and those just never seemed to align.  9 weeks have gone by with no running partner.  And with no distractions during my run, I got serious about my training.  I’ve kicked it up a notch and focused on my times and hill work.  It’s been going really good.

Then last weekend, I ran 10 alone.  Before it even began, I was tired of it.  I had reached a mental roadblock.  I was tired of running alone.  The joy of running was no more.  All I could thinking before, during and after was THIS SUCKS!  I missed having a partner to share the bliss of finishing a run in what Don Kern of the GR Marathon deems an ‘honest sweat’.  Woohoo’s just don’t feel as victorious when yelled inside your head as they do with a friend and the miles seem to just drag on as you travel the same path and scenery over and over again.

But today… today was different.  It was the return of the Bridge Run.  It was a year ago that I ran it as my very first race and what a difference a year has made to me as a runner. 

Last year, I felt like a baby runner.  I was technically running but I wouldn’t call myself a runner without a long-winded apology of how I just pretended to be one, I was really slow and blah blah blah.  But as time has gone by, I feel more confident in my ability.  I enjoy it more now, I’m faster and I have a better understanding of what my body is capable of.  

 Today was a beautiful morning.  The air was chilly and it felt amazing to run along side my friend.  To feel my feet moving under me and my legs stretching in a natural pace.  To feel the cool air fill my lungs.  I felt alive and free.  The joy had returned.

As we ran on, I couldn’t believe how awesome I felt.  The sun was in the sky, the park and river looked so beautiful and as I ran over the bridge just before the 9 mile mark, I shouted back to Cheri that I was taking off.  Time to kick it into high gear. 

I shot off.  I ran hard and it felt terrific.  My lungs burned as I pushed myself past other people.  I wasn’t racing them, just myself.  My goal was to finish 10min faster than my time last year.  A quarter of a mile away from the finish line, I could hear my body asking to slow down.  It hurt from this pace and while part of me thought that sounded great, the other part was determined to finish hard. 

I crossed the finish line and I checked my time… 1:34:12.  I had done it!  I took 10:30 min off my race time from last year!  WOOHOO!!!

A garage sale has been a long time coming around these parts.  5 years worth of clothes from Emma and 4 years worth of clothes for Gerrit have compiled into more bins than I care to count.  I tried and lost track at 20.  Add in baby toys and gear and you have an overwhelming amount of stuff just sitting there, doing nothing.  I’ve never had my own garage sale before and truth be told, it made me a little nervous to try to organize it all on my own. 

Then last Monday, my neighbor Sandy told me that she was having hers again.  She’d had one earlier in the summer but with all my cottaging, I didn’t join in.  Easy excuse, I know but it was a valid one and I clung to it.  I think my friends had actually stopped believing me that I was going to have one at all.  After all, I’d only been talking about it and not doing one for months.

This time, I had to definitely do it.  I had to bite the bullet and figure out how to put it all together.  The first problem was the garage.  Although I had spent an entire day cleaning it out and reorganizing it earlier in the summer, it had started to become full again with random things such as tools, dryers, trash to go to the dump.  It’s what always happens to open space.  Inevitably, all open space will be filled with something.

I told Dan on Tuesday that I was having a garage sale on the weekend.  What I meant to tell him was that by weekend,I meant Thursday.  His version of that statement was that I meant the actual weekend, with 5 days of prep.  I started frantically going thru bins and I couldn’t understand his lackadaisical attitude towards it all.  It wasn’t until Wed that he realized my timeline and joined me in getting ready.  He cleaned out the garage and built a rack for me to hang clothes.  I was busy pricing things and he got busy getting tables and organizing stuff in the garage.  Finally at 11pm, we called it quits for the rest of the pricing, organizing to take place the next day.

Our grand opening day was last Thursday and after having the sale for 6 days, I can happily say that we’ve sold some things.  Dan likes to say that you don’t actually make money having a garage sale, you just help recoup your own money… but either way you look at it, we’ve got some more green and less baby/toddler stuff in our home.  Happy happy.  It’s also taught me a couple things about garage sale having that I had forgotten.

Some people are cheap-  I actually knew this fact before the garage sale.  In fact, I thought I was part of the super cheap crowd.  But in fact, there is a whole genre of people that go garage saling, expecting to get something fantastic for next to nothing.  A pair of nearly brand new, in perfect condition, fleece Carter pajamas are supposed to be $1 by this crowd.  I actually had this lady arguing with me about my prices.  The conversation went like this

Mrs. Cheapskate “I just think $2 for these pajamas is too much“  holding up a pair of 24mnth Carter sleeper pajamas with no wear or tear on them.  They look brand new

Me” Hmmm ” and I go back to straightening up the clothes I was working on.

Mrs. Cheapskate ” Don’t you think that $2 is too much to ask for a pair of pajamas that have been washed and aren’t as soft as they once were?”

Now, obviously, I don’t think $2 is too much or I wouldn’t have priced it as such but…

Me, I walk over to physically touch the pajamas that she is referring to “Um, no.  They look and feel great.  I bet if  you washed them with some liquid fabric softener, they’d be good as new“.  Go back to straightening clothes

Mrs. Cheapskate “I just think that is too much to ask at a garage sale“

Me, starting to lose my patience with this lady “Really?  Cuz you know, they’re like $12 at the store, right?”

Mrs. Cheapskate “Right but that’s at the store“

Me “Yeah, I think $2 is where we’re at“ 

I wanted to tell her that when she had a garage sale, she could charge whatever her heart desired but I left it at that.  She ended up buying a few things and brought up the pajamas a couple more times in her remaining time.

Some people suck-  Once again, I knew this.  It wasn’t new information necessarily, it was just a reminder that if you deal with masses of people, there is bound to be a crappy one sooner or later.  During the garage sale, I only met 2 people that I would have loved to punch in the head.  So it actually gives me hope for the population as a whole. 

The first lady spoke no english and so communication was a challenge.  Not really a problem except for  the fact that she had 2 little toddlers with her which she spent no time supervising in the hour and a half she was here.  Yes, you read that right, she was here for an hour and a half!  During that time,she unfolded every single piece of girl’s clothes and some of the boys clothes that I had.  Meanwhile, her 2 little kids are busy playing with our toys and trying to break baby stuff.  I had to stop the littlest one from taking off into our backyard.  It seriously took me the rest of the day to straighten out the mess she made and it certainly wasn’t worth the $14 she spent.

The other person that sucked was a tag switcher.  I had helped friends before with garage sales so I had ‘heard’ about people that do this so I used masking tape to price things.  After that, I didn’t really think about it again.  Until I was ringing her up.  She had switched tags and being a novice, I wasn’t quite sure how to deal with this situation. 

I realize that some people thought my prices were too high.  They are entitled to their opinions and welcome to shop elsewhere.  But I honestly consider it stealing to switch the tags and take 80% off the asking price.  She might as well of shoved the shirts down her pants and walked away.  I guess she thought $3.50 was worth selling her soul and that’s sad.

I enjoy people- As a whole, I enjoyed the experience of garage saling.  It’s hard because your house is getting no attention and becomes annihilated while you sit outside from those still inside.  That part was hard but it was worth it.  I really enjoyed meeting and chatting random people.  

Somehow, in the last year, I’ve forgotten how it’s truly a privilege to take a moment of someone’s life.  To chat with them for a few minutes and get a glance into their lives.  People will often share with you something truly special if you actually take the time to listen.  I’ve missed that gift and I know it’s been my fault.  It’s a reminder to me to take time and reach out.  I love the snippets that people afforded me during my time of the sale.

Money is awesome- Yeah, I didn’t ever forget that.  I think making money is a super thing and we made some so that’s cool.  I’ll be looking forward to having a sale again in the spring.  You should stop by and buy something☺

I believe I was born to cottage.  I really do.

I’m sure most people think that they were too.  I’m also sure that most would never recognize the degree of skill and fortitude it takes to cottage like a pro.  They might think that they could handle the intense level of vacationing.  They probably believe that they have the stamina to maintain that perfect balance of fun & relaxation mixed with a tinge of work.  But I believe it takes an extraordinary amount of  focus and desire to achieve a perfect harmony in what I have deemed ’cottaging’.  It’s not camping, it’s not being on a cruise… it’s cottaging.

I believe I have achieved a near perfect recipe for doing so.  It will be my life’s work to teach that lesson to my children.  Not by what I say but by what I do.  And as always, take pictures.  Here’s some to share from our latest adventure.

My friend, Megan’s daughters (Makayla & Savannah) with Emma

My friend, Sandy’s sons (Zach & Jesse) with Gerrit out on the boat

Emma and I out on the boat

Makayla & Emma tubing together

Jesse & Gerrit on the boat

Emma

Gerrit

Scout

Gerrit & I

Fishing time

Emma’s wonderous sand castle

Sandy, myself & Megan

I would like to thank all those that have helped me realize my full cottage potential.  My father-in-law & my mother-in-law, my dear friend Cheri and my amazing friend Sandy.  You saw in me a cottaging talent that I might not have ever fully aspired to without your endowment.  Thank you

The core of me is filled with fear… well, correct that… it used to be filled with fear.  It seems like my whole life, I’ve battled with being afraid of things.  Some are rational fears (like heights) and some have been ridiculous fears(lawn mowers).  I’ve tried to work on both the big and little ones over time.  They say the best way to overcome a fear is to just do it.  I can officially add riding a motorcycle to the list of fears overcome.  Here’s some pictures of me riding my first bike!

Our good friend, Bryan was nice enough to take me out on his. 

You can’t even tell I’m screaming in this picture!     Actually, I was quite proud of myself for holding it together nicely.

You know, the thing that surprised me most of all?  I actually enjoyed it.  Funny how that happens