My Happy

I spent much of Friday, mourning what I thought this weekend was going to be...

There would be no Julie or Ashley due to injuries.

There would be no Cory due to the fact that he had to work.

I wasn't excited for the marathon.

The things I continued to remind myself...

It would still be a great weekend with some amazing women.

Perhaps, because my only goal was not to suck, I wasn't putting so much pressure on myself and would reach my goal.

I would have a GREAT weekend with some amazing women.

My dear friend, Marnee, had already agreed to be my date for the weekend.  She even signed up for the 1/2 marathon very last minute.

My dear friend, whom I had actually never met, Harmony would also be able to come.  She had originally signed up for the full and then injury struck.  It wasn't until Friday morning that I knew that she was for sure coming and that she would be switching to the 1/2.

We headed out Saturday morning and I sat in the car cherishing the moment.  Such awesome women, right there by my side.  Laughing.  Crying.  Wonderful.

Our first stop was the expo where my highlights included listening to Meb speak and meeting Lauren Fleshman (of whom I have decided I love.)

This whole time, I wasn't nervous.

There were tears at the inspirational.

There were smiles at the funnies.

There was zero nervousness.

We had an awesome dinner at Mazzi's with sweet Tasha and friends.

Still not nervous.

We got back to the room, layed out all our gear and off to sleep we went.

Or rather, tossing and turning we went.

3:15 and my phone tells me I have a text.

With tears, I read beautiful words of encouragement from G.

4:45 and the alarm goes off...

"Lead me, with strong hands..."

Fed, dressed, ready to go.

It wasn't until we were on the shuttle headed to the starting line that my tummy started to feel funky.  I managed to down about 4 bites of my clif bar and called it good.

We found the shortest potty line ever, did our business, gave good luck hugs and found our places in the corrals.

Waiting.

Smiling.

Ready.

The race started right on time and while it was rather congested, it was wonderful.  The course was beautiful, flat as can be, running trails, a river and gorgeous trees.  The only bummer was that there weren't a lot of spectators.

The miles clipped by and I stayed right on plan.  A conservative start.  Picking up as I went.  At mile 4 I told Harm that it was too bad the race wasn't ending there.  Up until that point, I was running a perfect, for me, race.

Around mile 8 a guy came up from behind and said he liked my "hip" outfit and told me he'd been pacing off of me.  It felt good to know that I was keeping steady.

This whole time, I was smiling.  I felt great.  I was enjoying the race.  It was perfect.

And then, around mile 10, I realized I was grimacing.

I was getting tired.

I was having to concentrate.

And then, I heard God.

"This isn't it."

And in that moment, a moment of clarity at mile 10, I realized something.

I realized why I run.

I run because it makes me smile.

I run because it fills me with God's joy.

I run because it makes my cup overflow.

I run because it gives me precious time with my Savior.

I run because I love it.

Plain and simple.

I giggled.

I smiled.

I walked for a moment.

I savored.

I felt the biggest weight lift from my shoulders.

I got the chills.

I felt the Lord's presence.

I was in awe.

At mile 13, I praised the Lord for my brother.  I had ran the first 1/2 for him.  Like I said I would.  And then, since God was handing out blessings this morning, I saw a man dressed as Waldo.  My smile grew...  Years ago, my brother went hunting and was lost in the woods overnight.  He earned the nickname "Waldo".  He was right there with me too.

I could not contain myself.

By mile 15 I started to pull over so I could walk and text G that I figured it out.  And in that moment, I felt so amazing and my smile was so grand that I just couldn't stop running.  So, I did what anyone would do at mile 15 of a marathon.  I called G.  A friend I have only texted and "messaged" and emailed.  A friend, that has come to mean so much to me.  A treasure that "gets" me.  I just had to tell her.

With a cowbell ringing and a smile, I pressed send.

"Hello?"

"Ginny?  It's Mere.  Can you hear the cowbell??"

"Are you running?!?"

"Yep!  I just had to tell you that I figured out why I run!!"

"Why do you run?"

And I proceeded to gush and share my moment with her.  I had to share with her because I knew that she would get it.  She would know exactly what this meant to me.  She would smile with me.  She understands what I mean when I say I don't want to suck.  She would understand my moment.  I was the girl with the grin, the giggle and the phone up to her ear.  At mile 15.5 :)

I would reach moments where my glutes burned and smile.  And walk.  And savor.  And then, I would run again. 

I cheered for those that passed me.

I thanked the volunteers.

And yet, the smile, that couldn't seem to get any bigger, did just that.  As I heard these words...

"I love the smile!"

"Keep smiling!!"

"Best outfit of the marathon!"

"Love the smile!  Love the outfit!!  You're gorgeous and strong!!"

And, for once, I agreed.

I was strong.

I was my strong.

I was happy.

Mile 22 and the 4:15 pacer passes me. 

"Way to go, 4:15'ers!!!"

With a heart full of joy I cheered as they ran by.

I giggled.

I was giddy.

I laughed at the fact that I ran a 4:12 in LA. 

In pain. 

In tears. 

Devastated.

And here I was, 6 weeks later, covered by God's grace, and smiling as I savored whatever time I ended up with.

My cheeks hurt from smiling.

My rear hurt from running a marathon.

And then, I again did what any marathoner does at mile 23.  I called Julie.

Smiling.

Giggling.

Loving the run.

All I know is that God gave me an enormous gift today.  An understanding of why I run.  An understanding that I don't do it for the time.  I don't do it to get faster.

I think the hard thing with all this social media is that it's easy to get swept up in it all.  To believe that faster times, a BQ, a shiny PR.  That that is what you want.  That that is why you run.

What God gave me today is an understanding that that is NOT why I do it.  That is not my goal. 

My goal, is to smile.  To savor.  To not suck. 

Today, I didn't suck.

I smiled.

I savored.

I enjoyed every single step (minus a bit of mile 10) of that 26.2 miles.

And, I'm still smiling  :)

The drive home.  All smiles.

Apparently, I just couldn't wait to take a bite :)

Marnee, Me, Harmony - Love these girls!

My amazing children that spent the day preparing dinner and setting the table for mine and Cory's arrival.  Love them!

God is amazing!

#3

“For You are my lamp, O Lord;
The Lord shall enlighten my darkness.
³⁰ For by You I can run against a troop;
By my God I can leap over a wall.
³¹ As for God, His way is perfect;
The word of the Lord is proven;
He is a shield to all who trust in Him.

³² “For who is God, except the Lord?
And who is a rock, except our God?
³³ God is my strength and power,
And He makes my way perfect.
³⁴ He makes my feet like the feet of deer,
And sets me on my high places."

2 Samuel 22:29-34

He is my lamp.

By my God I can leap over a wall.

His way is perfect.

He is a shield to all who trust in Him.

God is my strength and power.

He makes my way perfect.

He makes my feet like the feet of deer.

He is amazing.

I would not be doing this if it weren't for my God. My Heavenly Papa. He has blessed me with this gift.  Off to #3! 

Savored

As Brenton and I left the library on Friday, my phone rang.  It was the school calling to let me know that Ella had fallen off the monkey bars and her arm was hurting her.

Next thing you know, my wonderful, calm, preplanned day, was utter chaos.  Or so it felt in my belly.

We headed to urgent care where the Dr. thought that Ella may have fractured her elbow. 

Xrays taken.

Waiting room sat in.

Praise the Lord there was no fracture.  He says she must had just bruised it up nicely.  He gave us a splint, told us to ice it and off we went.

Even in the chaos, I was blessed.

Brenton, so sweet, so caring, offered to open doors for his sister.  He offered to buckle her seat belt.  He kept making her laugh and smile.

And, because I'm apparently a glutton for chaos, I decided to have Brenton get his kindergarten immunizations while we were there.  Then, it was Ella's turn...

She made him smile, comforted him, made him laugh.

My children amaze me.

We enjoyed lots of snuggles Friday night and savored being together.

On Saturday, much to my children's delight, I made homemade pancakes.  Which was followed by chore time and then, since hubs was out of town and my sweet 16 year old was at a friends, I loaded up the bikes in the car and we headed to the track.

It was warm.

It was sunny.

It was bliss.

It was, by far, the best run ever!

As I ran around that oval circle, my kids ran with me, they rode their bikes with me, they cheered for me.

As I ran around that oval circle, I smiled as I listened to their sweet conversations to each other.  I listened as they offered to walk with their sister whose arm was in a sling.

As I ran around that oval circle, I cared less about my times and more about the time I was spending with my sweet babes.

As I got about halfway through my run a high school boy showed up.  He passed Brenton and I as I kissed owies on his knees and elbows.

As I continued on with my run, I had to remind myself that I was not in a race with said high school boy.  Apparently, I wasn't so convincing.  Apparently, I did not want to get passed.  My only requirement was that I continue to run easy and effortless.  It was supposed to be an "easy" 6 mile run after all...

8:46, 8:57, 8:44, 8:01, 7:29, 7:30

That's cute.

Easy.

It was effortless.

And, at some point towards the end, high school boy started going in the opposite direction.

I like to think he was sick of not being able to pass the old lady.  :)

I savored every step of that run.

I savored the run.

I savored my kids.

I savored the sun.

I savored the effortless paces.

I savored.

The days are passing quickly.

Counting down to Eugene.

4 days.

Crazy!

Disconnected

I'm sitting in the local library.

Thankful for a sweet 5 year old who is content to sit quietly beside me while I catch up on the computer...

After my last post our computer crashed.  I was concerned another virus had taken our connection to the world and was thankful when I found out that it wasn't a virus.  The computer guy believes that the motherboard became disconnected.

Therefore, I've been disconnected.

Like any crack computer addict would do, I figured out that if I want to be very very patient, I can get on my daughters DS and browse only.  I cannot open emails, I cannot comment on anything, I cannot get to my recipes on Pinterest!  (That, is a big bummer)  I cannot keep in touch with friends. 

My husband also figured out that I can check my email on his phone.  However, since he works and since I don't want to spend my time with him on his phone, I don't do that often either.

I am disconnected.

Thankfully, I have many friends cell #'s.  My guess is my texting is going to be a little high this month :)

Thankfully, one dear friend was gracious enough to keep me updated with friend's times during the Boston Marathon on Monday.  I sat, waiting for updates.  Praying for friends.  Eager to hear.  Wishing they knew how very much I was cheering for them from across the miles.

But, alas, I am disconnected and there was no way to let them know.

Aside from being disconnected, I have to admit that I've loved the break from the computer.  I have gotten so much more done in my day.  I have spent less time obsessing/thinking about my impending marathon.  I think taper crazies have been kinder to me.  If I weren't so concerned with keeping in touch, I would say that I rather like being disconnected.

Training is going well.  My feet/blisters are all healed.  I'm as ready for Eugene as I'll ever be.

However, I'm not excited.

I texted G the other day...

I figured out my marathon outfit today.  Trying to get excited.  I'm not excited.  Why am I not excited?

As we chatted back and forth I figured it out.

It all comes down to one thing.

One thing that G has said so many times.

Try not to suck.

I just don't want to suck.

There are many times in life where I've been so thankful that someone gets me.  Truly, truly gets me.  Yesterday, G sent me a link to her blog.  A post she wrote right before she ran a marathon.  With tears in my eyes, I read her words.  Every word resonated in my heart.  And then, I read my words to her in the comments.  I read them twice.  Once as I had written them for her.  Once, as if they were coming back to be said to me...

I just don't want to suck.

I have a plan.  I have my outfit ready.  I have 5 more runs - the next 2, possibly 3, of which will be run in the SUNSHINE.

As I geared up for my tempo run this morning.  5 miles with 3@7:55.  I repeated to myself...

You cannot get wetter than wet (it was pouring)

I don't suck at running.

You cannot get wetter than wet.

I don't suck at running.

Over and over again.

And as I ran, Toby Mac's words played in my head...

Whoopsie daisy, call me crazy, whoosie daisy, how you gonna catch that fire?

And as I finished up my run, a tempo that truly had me wanting to vomit, I smiled.

I don't suck at running.

7:54
7:52
7:53

I don't suck at running.

I have done everything that I can.  I have trained to my fullest ability.  All I can do now is my best.  That's all I've got.  My best.

9 days.

Happy Birthday

To be honest, I've had a hard week.

Not hard because my kids overwhelmed me.

Not hard because my life overwhelmed me.

Not hard for any reason other than it's my birthday.

Hard because all I've been able to think about this week is my brother.

Hard because I've thought about how, last year, we spent spring break with my brother's family and my parents.

Hard because, last year, he was here.

Last year, he could call me to say, "Happy Birthday".

Last year, I could hear his voice.

Last year, he could hug me.

Last year, I could see his smile.

Last year, he was so sick and ornery that, to be honest, I had a hard time actually being with him.  My skin was not thick enough.  I could not suck it up.

Now, I just wish that I could have spent more time with him.

That my skin had been thick enough.

That I could just hear his voice.

That I could just see him smile again.

That I could just see the, "Oh, Meredith," look he would give me.

That I could just hear him tease me.

That I could just hear him challenge me.

That I could look into my brother's blue eyes and he could tell me he loves me.

That he could wrap his arms around me and hug me.

Oh, how I miss my big brother.

I didn't want to do my birthday this year.

Add that to the fact that my birthday fell on Easter, and I really didn't want to do my birthday.

I mean, really, how in the world can I bring up my birthday when we're celebrating the sacrifice Jesus made for us all.  My puny little birthday is nothing next to Jesus dying on the cross. 

Nothing.

I just didn't want to do it.

However, after crying many tears.

After many, many patient hugs from my husband.

Cory looked me straight in the eyes and told me we were celebrating my birthday on Saturday.  We were going to go on a date.  We were going to celebrate me.

And each morning he'd announce how many days until my birthday.

And Saturday morning he sent me on my way to celebrate with a friend who's running Boston.

And Saturday afternoon, he kicked me out the door to go run, telling me I would be so glad I went.

And after said run, all I could do was thank him for pushing me out the door.  It was one of my best tempo runs ever.

And Saturday evening, we went on a date. 

We strolled through Lululemon.  

We ate at P.F. Changs where I had my very favorite gluten-free lettuce wraps.  Cory opened my fortune cookie...

He believes in me that I will crush Eugene.  He told me I need to believe it too.

We braved the aisles of Whole Foods. 

In Portland. 

A store I've never been in and I can't say that I ever want to enter again.  I'm fairly certain all those in the crowded store could tell that I drove a gas guzzling Suburban, that I have 5 kids and that I don't care if I eat organic foods.

I told Cory we needed to get out of there and get out of there fast!

We strolled through the aisles of Target, shopping for Easter treats for the kids.

And then, we headed to the movie theater where we watched The Hunger Games.

And I smiled and held my sweet hubby's hand. 

And I enjoyed my day. 

And I forgot about my sadness.

Until Sunday morning.

My birthday.

Easter.

Tears fell all through church.

Tears of sadness. 

Tears of thankfulness.

"Happy Easter!" and "I'm fine" all morning long.

What my heart said was, "Happy Easter but no, I'm not fine".  But, who says that on Easter?

A couple of much needed hugs from friends.

Lunch with my sweet family and home for snuggles and a movie.

The sun was shining.

It was Easter.

It was a beautiful day.

My heart hurt more than it has in months.

Tears.

Tired of sadness.

Every thought leading back to my brother.

I miss him.

On Saturday night, Cory thanked me for getting another year older.

I told him to thank God.

I'm 35.

My brother was 36.

Every day is a gift.

I'm learning it's okay to be sad.

Jesus was sad.

I can be sad.

I'm just really ready for my happy to come back.

Strong

20 miles done.

16 miles at an easy pace done.

9:14
9:10
9:09
8:58
9:01
8:55
8:57
8:54
8:52
8:58
8:54
9:03
9:03
8:57
8:58
8:57

1 mile that I picked it up without thinking about it.

8:45

3 miles finishing the 20 strong.

8:31
8:30
8:19

Strong.

The first 17 were, well, easy.

I felt good.  The weather was great.  I was running some hills.  I had picked a good course.  It was good.

My plan going into the run was to run the last 3 miles at or near race pace.  My goal was 8:30. 

As I ran the first 17, I would feel my pace picking up.  I felt so slow.  I don't like to feel slow.  But, I knew if I did not stick to my plan, I would not follow through with hitting the last 3 miles strong.  I would allow excuses.  I would not allow excuses.  I would run easy...

As I got closer to the last 3 miles, I psyched myself up.  Getting my mind and body ready.  Not allowing myself to pansy out of it. 

Oh, I'm running to your arms

I'm running to your arms

The riches of your love,

will always be enough.

Nothing compares to your embrace

Light of the world FOREVER REIGN!

Strong.  Find it.

I pushed my body and my mind those last 3 miles.  There was a little voice telling me I could not do it.  There was a little voice that told me that since I could not do it, I would not get that sub-4 or better finish in Eugene.  There was a little voice that with each footfall I proved wrong.

I was determined.

Pushing myself.  

Proving to myself.

I am strong.

Cake

I've realized something the last few days...

I've realized that there's a reason why so many people shoot for that sub-4 marathon.

A marathon is 26.2 miles.

26.2 long miles.

26.2 miles in which anything can go wrong. 

Or right, I suppose.

And, no matter how confident you are going in to race day, you still never know.

No matter how good your training went.

No matter what you look like on paper.

No matter what anyone says.

You still never know.

I was blessed to run 5.7 miles with a very cherished friend yesterday.  As we ran, she asked if my goal was the same for Eugene as it was in LA.  She was the first person I admitted this to...

No.

What I've realized is that I would be the most disappointed if I do not get a sub-4.  If I miss that celebrated mark once more.

I want a sub-4.

Does that mean I don't want a 3:50, 3:45, or 3:40.

No.

It just means that THAT is my A goal.

I'm still going into Eugene with the same pace plan.

Starting conservatively. 

A long progression run.

Picking it up as I go.

I will not go into it limiting myself to that sub-4, but knowing my push will be for that goal and anything faster is just icing on the cake.  And, I like cake.  And icing.  :)

 Here's to enjoying a little cake!