tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21293691345086879432024-03-13T23:03:48.390-07:00Pursuing the HorizonThis is the story of my first marathon from the first step to the finish line.JAMIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11710952743697911405noreply@blogger.comBlogger20125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2129369134508687943.post-80205489651740637642008-11-04T13:55:00.000-08:002008-12-04T12:27:07.503-08:00The Nike Women's Marathon in San Francisco<object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/S1-cmDZvaM4&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/S1-cmDZvaM4&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br /><p class="MsoNormal"></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><p class="MsoNormal"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">October 19, 2008</span></strong><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisKeMEgnHKEKwEmULREuVWHtcOhhHn-R-oLCmPmATS7wA4c57b8uHbylm5BDfFXybY14GXblEEKzos9diEzHr4N3fnRbGwaPImkBSzCNya-_YlU2ZERM9ecQErQwEVm9IjZ974RJZnBd0/s1600-h/san_francisco_marin_view.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270899351030216626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 152px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisKeMEgnHKEKwEmULREuVWHtcOhhHn-R-oLCmPmATS7wA4c57b8uHbylm5BDfFXybY14GXblEEKzos9diEzHr4N3fnRbGwaPImkBSzCNya-_YlU2ZERM9ecQErQwEVm9IjZ974RJZnBd0/s320/san_francisco_marin_view.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal">It was a hazy, morning in the streets of San Francisco as we gathered, thousands of us, at the starting line. It was still dark outside, but everyone was lively, excited and ready.<br /><br />Let me back up a bit...<br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">October 17, 2008:</span><br /></strong><br />On the plane ride to San Francisco Friday morning, I nearly threw up. I was sweating, dizzy and holding an open air sick bag on my lap. I was trying desperately to keep the protein shake, vitamin and supplements in my stomache as I thought, "breathe." I was about to give in to my fate when the planes wheels touched down on the asphalt just a train ride away from the starting line. I made it with my vital nutrients safe inside my belly. With a cautious smile, I neatly folded the airsick bag and placed it back in the seat pocket. I don't normally barf on planes. My nerves were trying to get the best of me.<br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">October 18, 2008:</span></strong></p><p class="MsoNormal">The Nike Expo across the street from the hotel was buzzing. We checked in and got our bibs, timing chips for our shoes and other goodies. There was so much to do! The Nike store had a giant pink wall with all the names of the 20,000 marathon participants. We spotted our names and took way too many pictures of our spot.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim1QW4-EGs7bNgSKssNomFBsoql1wtnBc-bzUxnsoUY3UjkL6D8jAUdf-uquSNoFkLf0FMiSqowXe7pF4q0RjiRh4UP-EbhDj_rVyiNzpQFcto2okwQSPOr7CCHCGDON900QZa7IR2Iss/s1600-h/pink+wall+b.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270900641915115986" style="WIDTH: 259px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 194px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim1QW4-EGs7bNgSKssNomFBsoql1wtnBc-bzUxnsoUY3UjkL6D8jAUdf-uquSNoFkLf0FMiSqowXe7pF4q0RjiRh4UP-EbhDj_rVyiNzpQFcto2okwQSPOr7CCHCGDON900QZa7IR2Iss/s320/pink+wall+b.JPG" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS397lxyli9ouKkSwJD5Fuo4Y5j8P3dovkWOus0eqEoJMwvyR0w6HIDbtXRg7xeU48kZpzMiGJ6utq2VrrJ5F9hNNs0JoywaaZpp87pB367cnIudERIDFNMMmgsmIrbxp7qcHvysilj0E/s1600-h/pink+wall+j.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270900654134737474" style="WIDTH: 259px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 193px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS397lxyli9ouKkSwJD5Fuo4Y5j8P3dovkWOus0eqEoJMwvyR0w6HIDbtXRg7xeU48kZpzMiGJ6utq2VrrJ5F9hNNs0JoywaaZpp87pB367cnIudERIDFNMMmgsmIrbxp7qcHvysilj0E/s320/pink+wall+j.JPG" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal">Thanks Stephon for taking these awesome pictures!<br /><br /></p><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left">After hangin' out with <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian's</a> family, we headed back to the hotel to attend the Team In Training pasta party. It was held at the Mascone Center, which is this HUGE venue in the heart of San Francisco. We were not prepared for what we were met with inside. As we walked toward the doors, we heard a roar. It emanated loudly from the doors as <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian</a> and I looked at each other in wonder. What was going on in there?</div><p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqP4R77KQy9HHbXrVonoTxJhcWWTmQlWlhl0RyQ06XbofPHq-57pXAsX5gk4_9NVi6hshjH4xOGiIBXOtb1RgwXVSdfLIJJ9Pu6JdCWvcDjeGepe7OkChb_gBnOSfQIUGHLLC4Y2Yz2hU/s1600-h/pasta-party.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270901288291146882" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 242px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqP4R77KQy9HHbXrVonoTxJhcWWTmQlWlhl0RyQ06XbofPHq-57pXAsX5gk4_9NVi6hshjH4xOGiIBXOtb1RgwXVSdfLIJJ9Pu6JdCWvcDjeGepe7OkChb_gBnOSfQIUGHLLC4Y2Yz2hU/s320/pasta-party.gif" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal">We walked inside to find a row formed on either side of us consisting of all the Team In Training coaches, mentors, supporters, etc. cheering with noisemakers, funny hats, and various hoots and hollars. I couldn't believe how loud it was! We walked toward the stairs leading down into the dining hall and there were more! These people, must have been several hundred of them, lined the entire stairway all the way around to the front of the dining area to cheer for the marathon participants as they walked in to the dinner. I have never heard so much cheering! And it was all for us. It still makes me cry to think about it now. <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian's</a> parents were at the entrance of the dining hall. I was so moved. Words cannot describe.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/8mKxPMMYOWw&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8mKxPMMYOWw&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"></embed></object></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br />We ate pasta and bread as we listened to inspirational stories and funny anecdotes shared by the speakers. I enjoyed eating my guilt free carbs and even went up for seconds! Take that Los Angeles skinnies! I ATE CARBS!</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG7IGtCTdhhKEP_p7fJDW8tlEBHjBjLgGQ7oo65dpbN-7FQ7NEq0xs6UtyTiigwvT4id-oPwi4Y2PdmB8mnIcW_px9nk_ErtfWX2pEhBKsG5BwLOXwPiQNn5VUMTKkS-JPagrXjSzLVWw/s1600-h/2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270903123139147570" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG7IGtCTdhhKEP_p7fJDW8tlEBHjBjLgGQ7oo65dpbN-7FQ7NEq0xs6UtyTiigwvT4id-oPwi4Y2PdmB8mnIcW_px9nk_ErtfWX2pEhBKsG5BwLOXwPiQNn5VUMTKkS-JPagrXjSzLVWw/s320/2.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">October 19, 2008:</span></strong> <p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHlIBQbC08IW-hHLkd9MY-tKNJp6G1csxKkAmqU3-y1855XagXZ6EiwQim-lrI9J3r7QajIFwgGS2ysgsofxhYtNocB_UMQu8OT69f3wleyiuT0gCBOv3HgQWm7Z3-PXL8cLhB89A29Uk/s1600-h/6.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270903545279793058" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHlIBQbC08IW-hHLkd9MY-tKNJp6G1csxKkAmqU3-y1855XagXZ6EiwQim-lrI9J3r7QajIFwgGS2ysgsofxhYtNocB_UMQu8OT69f3wleyiuT0gCBOv3HgQWm7Z3-PXL8cLhB89A29Uk/s320/6.JPG" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><strong>4 am</strong> - Time to wake up! We had already pinned our bibs on our jerseys, attached the microchip on our shoes (it keeps track of your time from the moment you cross the starting line to the moment you cross the finish line), and layed our clothes out the night before. We drank protein shakes, stretched and headed down to the lobby for the Team In<br />Training round up.</p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><p class="MsoNormal">After meeting and signing in, we made our way to the start line, which was about 10 steps from our hotel. There were<br />THOUSANDS of people in the street. I didn't know if we would ever find SonHui (my cousin) or <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian's</a> parents. I borrowed a friend's phone (Thanks Irene!) to call my cousin.</p><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: right"><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibSOzgeGHMpenaIsYpq8mzlL8bcYCtbfGyB7sD6JYdH5LRzv4uE9-dzgpwZjOdh6YwnhQnLcI3S1cMQpz86COkTjHuj-H8lx2LMNanj-KU3jN0hUZBjTJov-Drpyae6cuCVMTAAfvRluA/s1600-h/7.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270904313262058242" style="WIDTH: 292px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 212px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibSOzgeGHMpenaIsYpq8mzlL8bcYCtbfGyB7sD6JYdH5LRzv4uE9-dzgpwZjOdh6YwnhQnLcI3S1cMQpz86COkTjHuj-H8lx2LMNanj-KU3jN0hUZBjTJov-Drpyae6cuCVMTAAfvRluA/s320/7.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiCzqkgPQUkkMl7z-p99IjOUVVw-7m0kRMruc3klMw6H2zS0IQJqU5w8n4Nsc4KPf6NGesZaIkQ96SLzr3kW6b8Ts9XwaM_G5f7qxJhqZkyxHWXqffgGCD65wFEQfid5nnjMZLD7ryrwM/s1600-h/10.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270904316850285858" style="WIDTH: 291px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 218px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiCzqkgPQUkkMl7z-p99IjOUVVw-7m0kRMruc3klMw6H2zS0IQJqU5w8n4Nsc4KPf6NGesZaIkQ96SLzr3kW6b8Ts9XwaM_G5f7qxJhqZkyxHWXqffgGCD65wFEQfid5nnjMZLD7ryrwM/s320/10.JPG" border="0" /></a></p></div><p class="MsoNormal"></p><p class="MsoNormal">Thankfully we were able to find them before the race started! <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian's</a> dad was wearing the jersey we had signed by our team. He was to be our good luck charm.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>We were ready!<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I even had my <a href="http://jamiemoniz.blogspot.com/2008/10/20-miles.html">stupid water belt</a> locked and loaded.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6x5fUA_NevJJQtfuCPbJM5hQVwsXUlJl8m_ckbuZA3NH7vyWYEM4NxyO13McyXkesYvsm9IaxMZKodCAb7ZXcKv9emL9F-sUQewFQLHmEG-4C_rCMdFr0Q2Bwfo92CcdGAv4PEAJ7te0/s1600-h/14.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270905601010537282" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6x5fUA_NevJJQtfuCPbJM5hQVwsXUlJl8m_ckbuZA3NH7vyWYEM4NxyO13McyXkesYvsm9IaxMZKodCAb7ZXcKv9emL9F-sUQewFQLHmEG-4C_rCMdFr0Q2Bwfo92CcdGAv4PEAJ7te0/s320/14.JPG" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYrAzkXV5L8yfQ-VpmKfYpQ1qA8CY9EXkyPDWMtBSMtkNM3ES4NsyM1RT_2pDwBiElE1-um3KbtGkeACv5zhsqYrrkllpRx4yjKTyGPZLvjKgdmyRrkN8XeyK3lVfzhv62eNEDOvBqWEw/s1600-h/troll.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270906455938006354" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 109px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 130px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYrAzkXV5L8yfQ-VpmKfYpQ1qA8CY9EXkyPDWMtBSMtkNM3ES4NsyM1RT_2pDwBiElE1-um3KbtGkeACv5zhsqYrrkllpRx4yjKTyGPZLvjKgdmyRrkN8XeyK3lVfzhv62eNEDOvBqWEw/s320/troll.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal">I have created a caricature of my self-doubt so I can overcome it.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>It is a little troll with green, wrinkly skin and a massive under bite.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>It’s snaggleteeth point up to it’s piggy nose in a comical way that makes it impossible for me to take anything it says seriously.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span></p><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left">As the start of the race approached, I started to feel nervous as I looked around at all of these runners.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>“Who am I kidding?” I thought.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>“These people look like they belong here and I feel like a phony.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I am not really a runner,” my doubtful troll said. </div><p class="MsoNormal"></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:0;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGgLmcxtBNMSNtxOoT81LAYZ2cAIKJWvnYWYXq8kFIdSkBpkSbp-bsNuucq1O8-OqBwQ_qxmOZepk6K3QSXzGevXjqBdgEQtxYdhYwTcGAbPnlW5gPsqt-2WDfAGZl4PfP5Hav5etvASY/s1600-h/9.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270907529531537410" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 233px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 175px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGgLmcxtBNMSNtxOoT81LAYZ2cAIKJWvnYWYXq8kFIdSkBpkSbp-bsNuucq1O8-OqBwQ_qxmOZepk6K3QSXzGevXjqBdgEQtxYdhYwTcGAbPnlW5gPsqt-2WDfAGZl4PfP5Hav5etvASY/s320/9.JPG" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal">I immediately jolted myself back into focus away from those negative thoughts.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I silenced the troll with the phrase, “I was born to do this,” in my head.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>This mantra really got me through, especially later in the race.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br />Because there were so many people crossing the starting line, we weren’t able to cross it until 7 minutes after the start of the race.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXLGrcoyUy0qJbzbgrBdh0k-tts31O9Ge7T43z1vmPFZ5Ae7DYPB5uDQYyE0HMtmcMcIxCTZGP9N0bX28pcSlTLclY5nncB1tsPlBayNl5qc071eZGqAI0RSxLqmQMgj9J9jgHRb3S87I/s1600-h/starting-line.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270908267326628450" style="WIDTH: 237px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXLGrcoyUy0qJbzbgrBdh0k-tts31O9Ge7T43z1vmPFZ5Ae7DYPB5uDQYyE0HMtmcMcIxCTZGP9N0bX28pcSlTLclY5nncB1tsPlBayNl5qc071eZGqAI0RSxLqmQMgj9J9jgHRb3S87I/s320/starting-line.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:0;"></span>It was strange, one minute we were just standing there waiting to get started and the next minute we were running, slowly.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>There were trolley tracks beneath our feet, so I was cautious not to twist my ankle on them.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Thousands of feet were slapping the pavement; the energy was incredible!</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: right"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIJf5XupVgpd4WkVpmUDX_m1lEjsLEdO0b_ZeopwC-3i-AlcZAXq0xGdsxbVzZM1ZQkHEFjkUAYiN5xLuWyluzqkWk8-XOuyDDl7hln8dfiWjlV-vg2J6TeCzI0zCU4X5Ypnkf2nmM5Z8/s1600-h/16.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270908750894455794" style="WIDTH: 215px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIJf5XupVgpd4WkVpmUDX_m1lEjsLEdO0b_ZeopwC-3i-AlcZAXq0xGdsxbVzZM1ZQkHEFjkUAYiN5xLuWyluzqkWk8-XOuyDDl7hln8dfiWjlV-vg2J6TeCzI0zCU4X5Ypnkf2nmM5Z8/s320/16.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:0;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><strong>Mile 1-5:</strong><span style="font-size:0;"> </span>We were like a giant school of fish running together through the streets.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>With all the buzz and distraction I thought, “this is going to be easy.”<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>There were people along the sides cheering, the scenery was beautiful, we ran by the piers and south along the coast.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Coach Brett told us to go to a thrift store and buy warm clothes to wear until our bodies warmed up.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>After we got warm, we could just throw our sweatshirts and other items onto the sidewalk or in donation bins.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>They have a team of people who collect the clothing and donate it to charity.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>It was very liberating to run through the streets of San Francisco ripping my clothes off and throwing them on the ground.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>We stopped at the port-o-potties so Brian could take care of some business and I saw 2 of our teammates, Rob and Elaine.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I was trying to get my thrift store sweats off, but couldn’t pull them over my shoes.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I had to sit on the grass while Rob yanked ‘em off.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>“Don’t tell your husband I took your pants off,” he said.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Here is a picture of the earlier part of the run.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Note the clothes on the ground.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8eJqnH_eLGanV8gKnk58_LGj1oN1ftNeFxPBdcJrpX4LuGX76PwEWhUr6VXqYh20Feu7-a1JIDHpVq6r-j73KtMSdKjvkPoXVZhBzd1N-fYy2wR5cWOoQ6oWi9Sqn7WC9mCQUq6yqlOQ/s1600-h/curve.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270909497159141922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 474px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 195px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8eJqnH_eLGanV8gKnk58_LGj1oN1ftNeFxPBdcJrpX4LuGX76PwEWhUr6VXqYh20Feu7-a1JIDHpVq6r-j73KtMSdKjvkPoXVZhBzd1N-fYy2wR5cWOoQ6oWi9Sqn7WC9mCQUq6yqlOQ/s320/curve.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><p class="MsoNormal"><strong>Mile 6-10:</strong><span style="font-size:0;"> </span>The first major hill on the course shot up in front of us.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>We were running with our mentor, Paul.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>He started singing and clapping his hands as we made our way up the steep hill.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>People running near us began clapping along and before we knew it, we were at the top.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>There were people at the top of the hill cheering for us.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>“You did it!” they screamed.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>The support from the crowds was like a wind pushing us forward.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>They spent their day standing along the side bringing people encouragement. I saw someone holding a sign that said, “Show us your sports bra!”<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>The crowd was amazing.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>It made a HUGE difference.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdEZ1Ip2dgg7WVDb_VkqVUuJPu0CIRV8HlFDypSTFbp12UgTn3ZuqsRJM6A2-ZDB3cKeu7iwUaPADw0ZxegrdyKm8IDWO8tgRGKonrlt6Tc6OgGwMqFFbXkYhOJyoxIINGWJr4GLH1t3U/s1600-h/go-team.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270910372877994770" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdEZ1Ip2dgg7WVDb_VkqVUuJPu0CIRV8HlFDypSTFbp12UgTn3ZuqsRJM6A2-ZDB3cKeu7iwUaPADw0ZxegrdyKm8IDWO8tgRGKonrlt6Tc6OgGwMqFFbXkYhOJyoxIINGWJr4GLH1t3U/s320/go-team.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal">By the time we got to mile 10, I thought about those people running the half-marathon.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>“If we were doing the half, we would almost be done right now,” I said to <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian</a>. “I feel like we are just getting started.”<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>With the Golden Gate bridge to our right, we ran on.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>It was beautiful.</p><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: right"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvdW9dIjPVUgZNO3Dk4BiUWQLL2br3-L0f4l3Mj3rbQBmQAvFh1DxjOZZyCLg15EaoVQ_VLcKaPXNW-dxx5cH34-d5TBGfpu4HhU3JpBo7dkJAM6PHj3W0zh3dXsrevSNb5nkfar26wp4/s1600-h/ocean-view.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270911475123222674" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 215px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvdW9dIjPVUgZNO3Dk4BiUWQLL2br3-L0f4l3Mj3rbQBmQAvFh1DxjOZZyCLg15EaoVQ_VLcKaPXNW-dxx5cH34-d5TBGfpu4HhU3JpBo7dkJAM6PHj3W0zh3dXsrevSNb5nkfar26wp4/s320/ocean-view.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><strong>Mile 11-15:</strong><span style="font-size:0;"> </span>We came to a spot in the course where the half-marathoners went one way, and the full marathoners went another way.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>This is the point in the run where it really thinned out for us.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>A lot of people were turning right to finish the half.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span><a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian</a> and I went left and continued our remaining 13.1 miles.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span></p><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4fHyT4fuiCQ2WT7VBK35_BEGhzkhmH5O1AYcTSHlP4VGAxxamZdxwY7f8dYNNTmtE1DHwrO6qszDf0KSO8N-3sPP_ic8yZDo_MrWct803OBPRPT8gNo7lBiOHts-nyvnSGkRironWKPk/s1600-h/full-half-sign.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270912043699725602" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 235px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4fHyT4fuiCQ2WT7VBK35_BEGhzkhmH5O1AYcTSHlP4VGAxxamZdxwY7f8dYNNTmtE1DHwrO6qszDf0KSO8N-3sPP_ic8yZDo_MrWct803OBPRPT8gNo7lBiOHts-nyvnSGkRironWKPk/s320/full-half-sign.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">This is the point where I began to feel some pain in my feet.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>During training, we ran on the dirt as much as possible to protect our joints.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>The marathon, however, was all on asphalt.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>It was unusual for me to feel sore so early in the run.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I ignored it and kept going.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN4NVTZoVmBRkX9mQ5vFp0MsCIhVfI9p2OGzPpzWTq-wPZ5A-bekhqG8c07-Fs1GiK7dwAVHwvZ6hDe9EoFlwafdC3wKqnMRa9oMGk8pr0Z7UWwZjW2CrMLDn_kTvrcZyy7z2dXyGfh04/s1600-h/22.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270912733521135122" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 233px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN4NVTZoVmBRkX9mQ5vFp0MsCIhVfI9p2OGzPpzWTq-wPZ5A-bekhqG8c07-Fs1GiK7dwAVHwvZ6hDe9EoFlwafdC3wKqnMRa9oMGk8pr0Z7UWwZjW2CrMLDn_kTvrcZyy7z2dXyGfh04/s320/22.jpg" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAdJlQzZ_pub5kmjeY_bOQbh_VYI4d2PJ4hW1L8wSGvFfyd8Qq6BkdAJooxVS0E119GkE4lqmUuVa09UoME0RzREbQYK7qy1_XBqi1Kcbvb6K65aaBv95U92hNFopbKjeHSKYVnEDk7ms/s1600-h/cheerleaders.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270913171821356594" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 212px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAdJlQzZ_pub5kmjeY_bOQbh_VYI4d2PJ4hW1L8wSGvFfyd8Qq6BkdAJooxVS0E119GkE4lqmUuVa09UoME0RzREbQYK7qy1_XBqi1Kcbvb6K65aaBv95U92hNFopbKjeHSKYVnEDk7ms/s320/cheerleaders.gif" border="0" /></a> <p class="MsoNormal"><strong>Mile 16-18:</strong> <span style="font-size:0;"></span><a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian’s</a> family, my cousin, SonHui, and our friend, Stephon were waiting on the sidelines as we rounded the corner of mile #16.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>It lifted me up to see them there.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I was extremely grateful that we spotted them in the crowd.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>There were so many people there cheering.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>There were cheerleaders, various bands and musical acts, people handing out orange wedges, bananas, water, Gatorade… Finding them was a miracle.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>It was just what we needed to fuel us for the remaining 10 miles.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha18qW7mJWEW6GTb8iA56z3uw9z1vhMatszgwa2WixLMqXkgh4gPDHBSeJ2ZTe2oadQ3O4FsW5PVBQOCBoT4qKYID7ZufOKCdSZsChXkFWP5X820pthq6Dnuw3RMpvcp1CkXFcGcBXexk/s1600-h/29.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270913877781932466" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha18qW7mJWEW6GTb8iA56z3uw9z1vhMatszgwa2WixLMqXkgh4gPDHBSeJ2ZTe2oadQ3O4FsW5PVBQOCBoT4qKYID7ZufOKCdSZsChXkFWP5X820pthq6Dnuw3RMpvcp1CkXFcGcBXexk/s320/29.JPG" border="0" /></a>After quick hugs, we hit the pavement and we were met with the longest hill of the run.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>It was a 2 ½ mile trek uphill.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I started to get tired.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I could tell that <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian</a> wanted to run faster, but I couldn’t make my body do it.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I puffed up and up and up.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span><a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian</a> stayed with me and we made our way up.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I saw a girl off to the side throwing up.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Her friend was right there with her, holding her hair.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I was touched, but had to look away since I tend to have my own stomach issues when I run.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Thankfully, we found a gel that I can stomach and I stayed relatively nausea-free for most of the run.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Mile 17 – It was getting hard.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I could barely speak.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>“I was born to do this, I was born to do this…” Toward the top of the hill, there were people standing along the trail cheering as we dragged our tired bodies up the punishing hill.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>“You only have 200 feet to go!”<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>They shouted.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I was walking when I heard that, and it was just what I needed to propel me up the hill, I ran to the top with <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian</a> by my side. The slogan was "Run like a girl," so they had signs up all along the trail with variations of the phrase.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlGaOIBSRPvgbdSdgm1iLgXXteMYSGjzRBC4mjS-9_oh_jziCi9pe0B4gmsu0WZGJtSfyc_28zmXevhd2orRC_D6u8VfdIiaQ0IQoJ0lppiV__QeDaMmwOtVYF5Ou1br4q_P7-s5FIhmM/s1600-h/love.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270914712748921794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlGaOIBSRPvgbdSdgm1iLgXXteMYSGjzRBC4mjS-9_oh_jziCi9pe0B4gmsu0WZGJtSfyc_28zmXevhd2orRC_D6u8VfdIiaQ0IQoJ0lppiV__QeDaMmwOtVYF5Ou1br4q_P7-s5FIhmM/s320/love.jpg" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgljfNWGJc0RDBVGJVivwrgW45-_rjuD-9c_jTzjzSOL2IzXTkvUQMQ3c5pFH63m81Ihm91l0DD-hihDTf-t2j23_YzcFo4lr0fknbiakF1om3rEaqZskYAVpBSmDUhI3bs7LWDfKO1g_o/s1600-h/LakeMerced+view.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270915457679106850" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgljfNWGJc0RDBVGJVivwrgW45-_rjuD-9c_jTzjzSOL2IzXTkvUQMQ3c5pFH63m81Ihm91l0DD-hihDTf-t2j23_YzcFo4lr0fknbiakF1om3rEaqZskYAVpBSmDUhI3bs7LWDfKO1g_o/s320/LakeMerced+view.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><strong>Mile 19-23:</strong><span style="font-size:0;"> </span>In front of us was a massive body of water, Lake Merced.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>“Do we have to run around that thing?” I huffed.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>“Nah,” Brian said.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>“Oh, thank God,” I sighed.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>As we got closer, the realization hit us like a pile of bricks that we were, in fact, going to run around the entire lake.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>It seemed impossible.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>After a bit of swearing, I renewed my determination and we continued.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal">By this time, it was easier to keep running rather than stop.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>It actually hurt to stop and walk.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>We had a love-hate relationship with our walk breaks<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNKLLkKpQVvOg7dEU9ucCCHonhDMemaDUTbI2YMJ3NX2Sk38ns7R_AlWiaZfG4mnWha_NZrmvg86FVo0hCE_F7fKeS8lNW3xHAcwRmjVVBKAAwKcgvvBwELRyhEAQKBT6TX77vcEcCMUA/s1600-h/lake-merced.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270915727017606866" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 258px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNKLLkKpQVvOg7dEU9ucCCHonhDMemaDUTbI2YMJ3NX2Sk38ns7R_AlWiaZfG4mnWha_NZrmvg86FVo0hCE_F7fKeS8lNW3xHAcwRmjVVBKAAwKcgvvBwELRyhEAQKBT6TX77vcEcCMUA/s320/lake-merced.jpg" border="0" /></a> (run 9 minutes, walk 1 minute).<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I needed them so desperately, but every time we stopped to walk, my legs would send all the pain messages they had been storing up.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Starting to run again hurt like hell.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>The pounding of the pavement sent shockwaves from my swollen feet, up through my thorny knees, and all the way to my hips.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>My hips moaned with every step.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Around the lake we went.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I was only thinking about the mile in front of me.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I couldn’t bear to think that we still had 7 miles to go.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I thought, “if I can run 20 miles, I can run 26 miles,…if I can run 21 miles, I can run 26 miles…”<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I kept doing this until the end.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><strong>Mile 24-26.2:</strong><span style="font-size:0;"> </span>A hill greeted us on the other side of the lake, much to my dismay.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>“I don’t think I can do it,” I groaned to <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian</a>.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>“Come on, Baby!” he said.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>He let out a spirited roar and put his hand on my back.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>“Let me hear your roar!” he said. <span style="font-size:0;"></span>A timid “raaawr” tumbled out of my mouth and Brian started laughing.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>“That was FIERCE!” he said.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I laughed up the hill with my amazing husband and didn’t stop to walk.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>We were now on the home stretch!<span style="font-size:0;"> </span></p><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiji47Ym3BL-nYDRVRZeEdf6oJ9kEO5q1q9eUBRWTcxkyZ9ZW4zcjsc3jyCmirW-dvf2SjXyFUaJPDHTIJbgXokPgAu0AtxR99NjVAww9O1FIGbWA3ELynMOHD9T3x5w7gbw40Beki_eI4/s1600-h/great-highway.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270916439696427890" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 211px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiji47Ym3BL-nYDRVRZeEdf6oJ9kEO5q1q9eUBRWTcxkyZ9ZW4zcjsc3jyCmirW-dvf2SjXyFUaJPDHTIJbgXokPgAu0AtxR99NjVAww9O1FIGbWA3ELynMOHD9T3x5w7gbw40Beki_eI4/s320/great-highway.gif" border="0" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">On the other side of the trail, which was headed for the lake, we saw our coach, Brett.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>“Alright, you guys!" he said, "<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>You only have 2 more miles!”<span style="font-size:0;"> </span><br /></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinfedrCc0UeHpgd41bu8uAiOD0WqZuQR9xJPKv2VmKM-6Ka8wj3XjBncQL1s0W63MeB84XL_UIladQI9VqIX17-sdIdQepnF1k3jTUU0LO-VCUWC6evOMykJL_rQgESStO8grfcjaFXZ0/s1600-h/41.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270916812583189298" style="WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinfedrCc0UeHpgd41bu8uAiOD0WqZuQR9xJPKv2VmKM-6Ka8wj3XjBncQL1s0W63MeB84XL_UIladQI9VqIX17-sdIdQepnF1k3jTUU0LO-VCUWC6evOMykJL_rQgESStO8grfcjaFXZ0/s320/41.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><p class="MsoNormal">I couldn’t believe it.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>We were really going to do this!<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I almost started to cry, but I knew that would consume valuable energy and I needed all I could get.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>My dumb feet kept flopping one in front of the other.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I was unable to make any sudden movements.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Even turning was hard.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Any extra muscle exertion seemed impossible.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi36h9yeZK9JVH-T9_6wjv4TNgEXNcWawnIfuBnnQ0TblJJLrJvxwpqWEScLo1YI9m4aX3xJNV0TMndI_Ca_o9-KFmnyjZi8a7z_mg9NugWxXXHjdduiQtP-8OvWo4n-j7Y9BCHNrUTgME/s1600-h/water-stop.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270917184213341746" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 207px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi36h9yeZK9JVH-T9_6wjv4TNgEXNcWawnIfuBnnQ0TblJJLrJvxwpqWEScLo1YI9m4aX3xJNV0TMndI_Ca_o9-KFmnyjZi8a7z_mg9NugWxXXHjdduiQtP-8OvWo4n-j7Y9BCHNrUTgME/s320/water-stop.gif" border="0" /></a><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">We came up on our last water stop.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>The ocean was to our left and the mist cooled our faces.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>What a beautiful day!<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>My legs were swollen and I couldn’t believe I still had the strength to smile.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF2287yTvy-UvX3vHGt06iqp-El7jIZdWcHxB5tf-MVdSUJFXzVOaEkFQlwyIc-iH4NKz2L8iymglclIAvcNKOc-k6usZc28A7HfcZ1PX2jojSy8MeHf51BTcc6fZohuHwiy2hKaCsYeI/s1600-h/grethwy2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270917671931649106" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 215px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF2287yTvy-UvX3vHGt06iqp-El7jIZdWcHxB5tf-MVdSUJFXzVOaEkFQlwyIc-iH4NKz2L8iymglclIAvcNKOc-k6usZc28A7HfcZ1PX2jojSy8MeHf51BTcc6fZohuHwiy2hKaCsYeI/s320/grethwy2.jpg" border="0" /></a> </p><br /><p class="MsoNormal">At mile 25, we saw <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian’s</a> brothers. <span style="font-size:0;"></span>All three of them were there, and our two sister-in-laws were there with our niece and nephews. They were screaming and cheering so loudly, they almost blew us off the trail! <span style="font-size:0;"></span>Brian’s brother, Trevor, started running along the outside of the trail next to us.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>With a Starbucks coffee in his hand, he yelled, “I brought you guys some coffee…WOOOOOO!”<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Brian’s other two brothers, David and Kevin, were close behind Trevor cheering us on.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>We were almost there.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMvQDUQfk7cABz9X6HAA0btPHfnoYJkHDTZgEgldf6KqV7jl-EUiiCyv2_ifhE6AhJ8GInTLJ_NQajW4HnzvnGakf-dFmWsJ-p8CzSeK7tc102tFFh58kdMuUYYFRubuDd33zPsIdrpU4/s1600-h/mile-26.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270917893764214994" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 196px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 133px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMvQDUQfk7cABz9X6HAA0btPHfnoYJkHDTZgEgldf6KqV7jl-EUiiCyv2_ifhE6AhJ8GInTLJ_NQajW4HnzvnGakf-dFmWsJ-p8CzSeK7tc102tFFh58kdMuUYYFRubuDd33zPsIdrpU4/s320/mile-26.gif" border="0" /></a>My cousin, SonHui was at mile 26 with Brian's parents waving a sign that read “Go Brian and Jamie!”<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Brian slapped his parents a high-five as we approached the finish line.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhaeTLgdbdnrlAORp-WSMzSXVG-Wi7evNvDbwCJ7uG6YA-Drqo8NVdhUT03KBcbaadusxENeYgKJfPJmzU5u9ZvDkC7tmeyQmIjrquCnWnMZHgTFjSwugbgNKEMjwUnoJDOf8L6abUnWQ/s1600-h/go+Brian+and+Jamie+finish+line.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270918660524190610" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhaeTLgdbdnrlAORp-WSMzSXVG-Wi7evNvDbwCJ7uG6YA-Drqo8NVdhUT03KBcbaadusxENeYgKJfPJmzU5u9ZvDkC7tmeyQmIjrquCnWnMZHgTFjSwugbgNKEMjwUnoJDOf8L6abUnWQ/s320/go+Brian+and+Jamie+finish+line.jpg" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC0cPwLQSAdAC73NuwPLjICP31z4Ksf8Y1kniYLm1fBLpGPK43_MBEI4fRPz-fMWGYHvh0iHSqyvV-GKWWjvuLj21rKB7WTJVjVHv8uf7fpwDkcqMgXueaOlfhkrk4Prr_TVMuNUSgUhI/s1600-h/36.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270919246634444690" style="WIDTH: 292px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 212px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC0cPwLQSAdAC73NuwPLjICP31z4Ksf8Y1kniYLm1fBLpGPK43_MBEI4fRPz-fMWGYHvh0iHSqyvV-GKWWjvuLj21rKB7WTJVjVHv8uf7fpwDkcqMgXueaOlfhkrk4Prr_TVMuNUSgUhI/s320/36.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal">Almost to the end, <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian</a> and I ran the last .2 miles hand in hand.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>As we crossed the finish line holding hands, I was hit with a wave of all the emotions I had been keeping at bay during the run. We just ran a marathon! I couldn't believe it. My dream ever since the beginning of training was to see <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian's</a> face as we crossed the finish line together. All of the pain, the struggle, the icing and hobbling...it was all worth it. I had the priviledge of crossing the finish line with the man of my dreams. <span style="font-size:0;"></span></p><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPJQxk3rxl5v4toCwI8iukSrWjexBobxHoGR-wm11fF3nFKyd5hfXlE0iQSQJdyzUllPA8gEq0_-xZhod_GNd79xV8hALc5zJgd7w-h-VtZkeX1NWINEvY3gD4HN3BUUlvQ07wAidzUIo/s1600-h/44y.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270919680693558658" style="WIDTH: 218px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPJQxk3rxl5v4toCwI8iukSrWjexBobxHoGR-wm11fF3nFKyd5hfXlE0iQSQJdyzUllPA8gEq0_-xZhod_GNd79xV8hALc5zJgd7w-h-VtZkeX1NWINEvY3gD4HN3BUUlvQ07wAidzUIo/s320/44y.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicYRALVE7fmuTtVqYTEGooS5bTP5x-HLgFm_0IG1vQk27ImBcVv9Yt-5XJBONfSt06jQommV1MkFSm6BEWfkfWbIwZz-avNDRmbfsTMzQGWcqAFhzlbxkNUyLEAWYAdlLyfwozkP6mWYs/s1600-h/Nike08_Fireman.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270920199099483058" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicYRALVE7fmuTtVqYTEGooS5bTP5x-HLgFm_0IG1vQk27ImBcVv9Yt-5XJBONfSt06jQommV1MkFSm6BEWfkfWbIwZz-avNDRmbfsTMzQGWcqAFhzlbxkNUyLEAWYAdlLyfwozkP6mWYs/s320/Nike08_Fireman.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal">I was crying and laughing at the same time.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>The San Francisco Fire Department was dressed in<br />tuxedos waiting at the finish line holding silver platters stacked with Tiffany’s boxes.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Inside the boxes were Tiffany pendants engraved with runners on the front.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I thought this was going to be a big highlight for me, but I hardly noticed.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>With a weepy “thank you,” I snatched my box and threw my arms around Brian’s neck.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal">WE DID IT!<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>We ran 26.2 miles and raised $10,880 for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Our official time was 5 hours and 13 minutes. Brian decided to give his necklace to his mom.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>We went through a sort of assembly-line after crossing the finish line.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>We were given protein shakes, t-shirts that read, “Finisher,” silver blankets for warmth and a TNT pin that said “26.2” on it.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal">We met up with our loved ones at the end and saw that Brian’s best friend, Adam was there with his dog, Augie.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Augie was wearing a sweater that had, “Go Brian and Jamie” written across the back.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Adam drove for 8 hours to be there to see Brian cross the finish line.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>He stayed for about an hour and then headed back to Arizona.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>We were so touched that he came all that way for this moment.<span style="font-size:0;"> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP1GW1n96bzwUddkQOMkkcVZW-2nK68NMHcSCp5nsoIZPtBLcq3stZediWH7hhXmO1uyMilCsZFVMJYRkfFOodtW-DBTTmg0yX5CPhPBlIp9qnuEy6892hnO9I0n0aInW_6xOrnJ-YIQo/s1600-h/31a.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270920547211825058" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 233px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP1GW1n96bzwUddkQOMkkcVZW-2nK68NMHcSCp5nsoIZPtBLcq3stZediWH7hhXmO1uyMilCsZFVMJYRkfFOodtW-DBTTmg0yX5CPhPBlIp9qnuEy6892hnO9I0n0aInW_6xOrnJ-YIQo/s320/31a.jpg" border="0" /></a> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal">After the marathon:</p><p class="MsoNormal">We were freezing and exhausted.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>There was no time for napping, though.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>There was a victory dinner at 6 pm at the Moscone Center.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I had no appetite, but tried to force some food down.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Everyone there was hobbling around with the “marathon hobble”.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>It was so amazing hearing our teammates tell their stories from the day.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>We all got there together.<span style="font-size:0;"> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWVR2qqi2Hkqao_shnElC4WGZqB0TpxMMtHSfA_fxdp8t2rJnJFtwQuxs-o6XlEq42w1UHS04NOZr8aH5qi5bZArT6OR8RrYcMajA7fzL2-kSVzlW0CjXKr5IiH-mOS6S2l_J21rOwAcQ/s1600-h/55.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270920859943065698" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 233px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWVR2qqi2Hkqao_shnElC4WGZqB0TpxMMtHSfA_fxdp8t2rJnJFtwQuxs-o6XlEq42w1UHS04NOZr8aH5qi5bZArT6OR8RrYcMajA7fzL2-kSVzlW0CjXKr5IiH-mOS6S2l_J21rOwAcQ/s320/55.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:0;"></span>We were still buzzing, but ended up back at the hotel and in bed by 10 pm.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>WHAT AN UNBELIEVABLE DAY! <span style="font-size:0;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">My only injury was a blackened toenail.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>It’s called “runner’s toe,” a blood blister forms underneath the toenail due to the continued pounding and pressure of running 26.2 miles.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>It is my badge of honor!<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I show it to anyone who can stand it.</p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjuJ92FKvHq7FYTslyc0ccY2Df_KoJEU72rtS3x_GHBCujhVM9Us-CmK1dht0Fudh3nbEVe7GeuELrq9WatlYbVW1Tzh3oZlN9sv9jsclOHFIQf3s5ebttzcR8e3Lz91QEHSnmaPX7cwk/s1600-h/toe1.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270921542370620402" style="WIDTH: 193px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 266px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjuJ92FKvHq7FYTslyc0ccY2Df_KoJEU72rtS3x_GHBCujhVM9Us-CmK1dht0Fudh3nbEVe7GeuELrq9WatlYbVW1Tzh3oZlN9sv9jsclOHFIQf3s5ebttzcR8e3Lz91QEHSnmaPX7cwk/s320/toe1.gif" border="0" /></a><br /><p class="MsoNormal">Yeah! <span style="font-size:0;"></span>Rockin’ the black toe!</p><p class="MsoNormal">Brian’s dad went in for his first intensive chemotherapy treatment four days after the marathon.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I hope he keeps that day with him as he recovers.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>He has been such an inspiration to Brian and me.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Every time I felt like giving up, I thought of Rich and how hard he has to fight.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>We are all in this together.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I can’t wait to be on the sidelines cheering him on, now.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>He gave us a plaque as a thank you for doing the marathon.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>It reads, “Our Family, A circle of strength and love…Founded on faith, joined in love, kept by God, Forever Together.”<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>When he gave it to us, I was overcome with tears because I felt so blessed to be part of this family.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Thanks Mom and Dad!<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>We love you.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqS-gWmAcG5dKXxP5TAutBzSsFScDgZhj29ui5yZQ_qjM9wTANsMYSK3YhrCs0-IPZP56KnTnS5ceT2QE6sA1b420mVCFd0oDpK3x1DCzRZ7Izz23m3OGfEc6x95OLzmH0e9A-jngVkWY/s1600-h/8.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270921799610315522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 233px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqS-gWmAcG5dKXxP5TAutBzSsFScDgZhj29ui5yZQ_qjM9wTANsMYSK3YhrCs0-IPZP56KnTnS5ceT2QE6sA1b420mVCFd0oDpK3x1DCzRZ7Izz23m3OGfEc6x95OLzmH0e9A-jngVkWY/s320/8.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><p class="MsoNormal">Thank you all for your support, love, donations and encouragement.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Thanks to you, we raised $10,880 to help the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society find a cure for cancers of the blood.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>We could not have done this without you.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I’ve learned many things throughout this journey, but the biggest lesson is never, never, never give up.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I pulled strength from our teammates at Team In Training, our coach, Brett, our honored teammate, Audrey, Rich and Linda, and most importantly, my husband <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian</a>.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Thank you, Baby, for helping me to believe I can do anything.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I love you.</p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuIeY8TnRGpMEebT-JpFUq9jP2fO3rekzIzH87X9tlDeW16f5DpCAiRj4InYh3ks5pGUvjt_hJEW_yDhrpU27AkW5fKFCG49eGk7pvmPrV-XL2BMsuNfRQBGlPbg4m4_Cjc3QhHuYwxrM/s1600-h/45.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270922042515316162" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 233px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuIeY8TnRGpMEebT-JpFUq9jP2fO3rekzIzH87X9tlDeW16f5DpCAiRj4InYh3ks5pGUvjt_hJEW_yDhrpU27AkW5fKFCG49eGk7pvmPrV-XL2BMsuNfRQBGlPbg4m4_Cjc3QhHuYwxrM/s320/45.jpg" border="0" /></a> <p class="MsoNormal">Thanks Team in Training!<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>You taught me how to Train, Endure, Achieve and Matter.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Go Team!<br /><br /></p><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuPqq_Wfaamd6GRcOrPdVagQ4kFcxBkzgKTA5aKKGdDxQ3sIkXg4Cqtqs66Y2JPRJ5Npj62VoJy8_gdkWTtGlLVdLWPn_NSnDh5Jfl5Rzgs0jVTm2YQER4BtFlmkTfSpCNYtlacMddwJk/s1600-h/1a.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270922247310292178" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuPqq_Wfaamd6GRcOrPdVagQ4kFcxBkzgKTA5aKKGdDxQ3sIkXg4Cqtqs66Y2JPRJ5Npj62VoJy8_gdkWTtGlLVdLWPn_NSnDh5Jfl5Rzgs0jVTm2YQER4BtFlmkTfSpCNYtlacMddwJk/s320/1a.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal">Here’s to:</p><p class="MsoNormal">Wearing heels again<br />Sleeping in on a Saturday<br />No more frozen peas on the joints<br />Eating greasy foods<br />Drinkin beer<br />Walking without hobbling<br />Making new friends<br />Believing I can<br />Finishing</p>JAMIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11710952743697911405noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2129369134508687943.post-37313693524334395872008-10-11T16:24:00.000-07:002008-10-12T11:34:46.973-07:00Treat Yourself<p class="MsoNormal">To assist with my fundraising, Serene Haven Spa in Sherman Oaks has donated gift certificates for customized facials and manicure/pedicure packages for auction. The Fundraiser show was very successful, but I still have some of these gift certificates left. So...<o:p></o:p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">I am having an E-MAIL AUCTION starting today! <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Here is a little information about this lovely spa:<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Serene Haven Spa<o:p></o:p><br />13511 Ventura Blvd.<br />Sherman Oaks, California, 91423 <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><em>Serene Haven's Zen atmosphere was designed to pamper </em><o:p></o:p><br /><em>and ease clients into a state of peace, relaxation, and tranquility. </em><o:p></o:p><br /><em>Serene Haven offers customized facials, nail treatments, and waxing. </em><o:p></o:p><br /><em>Clients can also enjoy a cup of jasmine green tea to aid in rejuvenation. </em><i><br /></i> <o:p></o:p><br />Here are the items up for bid:<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">1. Manicure / Pedicure Gift Certificate - $35 value - Starting bid: $10 - <span style="font-weight: bold;">SOLD! </span><b></b><o:p></o:p><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">2. Customized Facial Gift Certificate - $110 value - Starting bid: $50 - STILL AVAILABLE!</span><o:p></o:p><br />3. Queen for a Day Package (Includes 1 facial gift certificate + 1 mani/pedi gift cert.) - $145 value - Starting bid: $75 - <span style="font-weight: bold;">SOLD!</span><o:p></o:p><br />4. Girlfriends Package (includes 2 facial gift certificates + 2 mani/pedi gift certs) - $290 value - Starting bid: $100 - <b>SOLD!</b><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p>- I also have a nice bottle of chardonnay autographed by Fleet Mickwood of Fleetwood Mack up for auction. Starting bid: $25 - <b>SOLD!</b><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p><strong>*Instructions for bidding - email me at jamielou_1@yahoo.com with the following info:</strong><o:p></o:p><br /><strong> 1. The item you are bidding on</strong><o:p></o:p><strong><br /> 2. Your bid amount</strong><o:p></o:p><br /><strong> 3. Your full name, address and phone number (so that I may mail the items to<br /> you)</strong><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I will send you a follow up email to let you know if you've won the item and send you the link (which is also below) to make your online donation. Once I have receipt of your donation, I will mail the items to you. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">My goal is to have these items gone by <span class="yshortcuts"><span style="cursor: pointer; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; background-attachment: scroll; background-repeat: repeat;" id="lw_1223767449_0">next Thursday</span></span>. <b><br /><br />Please place your bids by Sunday. The auction will close <span style="cursor: pointer; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; background-attachment: scroll; background-repeat: repeat;" id="lw_1223767449_1"><span class="yshortcuts">on Monday morning</span></span>. </b>I will let you know if someone beats your bid so you have the opportunity to make a higher bid.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Brian is faster than me, so I want to beat him on the fundraising. He is at $5439 right now. Let's pass the $5500 mark!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">my email address: <a href="mailto:jamielou_1@yahoo.com" target="_blank" rel="nofollow" ymailto="mailto:jamielou_1@yahoo.com"><span id="lw_1223767449_2"><span class="yshortcuts"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">jamielou_1@yahoo.com</span></span></span></a><br /><span style="cursor: pointer;" id="lw_1223767449_3"><span class="yshortcuts"></span></span><br /><br />Thanks guys!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 255);"> </div><div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 255);"> </div>JAMIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11710952743697911405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2129369134508687943.post-51946109805244837502008-10-10T10:28:00.000-07:002008-10-10T17:13:50.610-07:00Bookends<a href="http://jamiemoniz.blogspot.com/2008/06/random-thoughts-while-riding-bike.html">Where was I at the beginning of training?</a> If you do not remember, I was on what I like to call the stupid bike. The first month of training yielded an ankle injury and too many trips to the gym riding the stupid bike while my team ran outside in the fresh air with each other. After trips to 2 doctors and a specialist, I got myself running again. I remember being so grateful to be able to run. I have a confession...I started to take that ability for granted. <div><br /><div>"I don't like to run" I told somebody recently. "I just don't think it is what I'm good at". I found myself just trying to get through with the runs so I could relax. I was getting grumpy on the trails. I was tired, winded, in pain, and what was worse, I had a bad attitude. Whenever we forget to be grateful, we get the gift of a gentle (or sometimes not so gentle) reminder. </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><br />After our 20-mile run, I was having pretty severe pain in my groin. I have become used to experiencing pain after long runs, so I didn't think much of it. <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian</a> and I went for our 5 mile run on Monday and that pain was there again. This time, it wasn't submitting to my will. Instead of getting better after I warmed up, it got worse. I had to stop at 3 miles. I wasn't really worried, I knew I had just run 20 miles. I waited as <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian </a>completed his 5 miles and we went home to ice packs and election coverage. </div><br /><div>I stayed home and rested Wednesday night and <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian</a> went to meet the team for a short 5 mile run. I had to finish a paper for school anyway. I neglected my stretching and supplements for most of the week. "I'm fine," I thought. We are in our taper phase. In the taper phase, you decrease mileage to let your body rest for the big day. </div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255592477895323218" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-bWspaCHBCLIvpJhJDiPNlHvb4L2WUqUJDuPXDseda92vPS3OfhL3fknrNxbxK7rWp0MML0lNOr54Uk8Lb6Lpf4ClkO2cICQDVRcZ_MXNCJ-qgOrSTdpzlYzn4LWR3VAkD7F1gOwQ7e8/s320/tina.jpg" border="0" />By Saturday (two weekends ago), I felt ready to run again. We headed to the park for a mere 8 mile run. This seemed like nothing compared to what we had just accomplished. Tina, my running buddy, found me and we ran together. She is at the same pace as I am, so we have bonded. She was kicking my butt, though! I felt so tired. Again, I was just trying to 'get through it'. My groin was full of complaints, but I ran through it as I have done with other pains. At about mile 7, Tina started feeling severe pain in her knee. She tried to run through it, but I suggested that we take it easy and walk it in. With the marathon this close, I didn't want her to take any chances. Inside, I was grateful for the walking. I was in pain too. We took that time to have conversation that is usually impossible when we are huffing and puffing during the run. It was a nice change of pace. I started to remember what I liked about training in the first place.<br /><br /><div><a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian</a> and I headed to North Hollywood park for our usual Monday night run. This time, I could only run 1 mile. I was feeling a good amount of pain. We agreed that I shouldn't push it, so he did another mile and we walked for a bit. I kept the ice routine and thanks to my lovely friends, Brendan and Aarti, I have a rice bag (you heat it up and apply it to sore areas to help them heal). Ice and heat and ... worry.</div><br /><div></div><div>I called <a href="http://www.orthopropt.com/">Jeff Waldberg</a> on Tuesday to ask about my groin. He believes it's a muscle issue. He suggested I...ride the bike. Wednesday, <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian </a>was off to meet the team and I layed on the couch in a puddle of self pity. There are two kinds of pain when dealing with a sports injury; the pain of the injury, and the pain of the depression that sets in because your body can't do what you want it to. Did I ride the bike on Wednesday? Nope. I sat and wallowed. </div><br /><div>Saturday, the team was running 6 miles. <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian</a> was up at 5:30 to head to the park. I told him I was going to get up at the same time to go to the gym, but I slept until 9:30. It took everything I had to get myself to the gym and on that bike. I sat there with a scowl, pedaling. I was so angry at being back where I started.<br /></div><div><br />Tuesday night, the team met at California Pizza Kitchen to have a send off dinner. We got there late (the debate was on). When we arrived, I saw a girl with crutches. I looked closer and realized it was Tina. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. "I have a stress fracture at the top of my femur bone," she said. That is a pretty major injury. This is what caused the pain in her knee. The femur is the largest bone in the body, and if you remember from one of my <a href="http://jamiemoniz.blogspot.com/2008/05/what-am-i-thinking-ill-tell-you.html">older blogs</a>, I broke mine too a long time ago. This really struck a chord with me. I was face to face with my own demons. All the fear I felt at the beginning of training because of my previous femur injury came rushing back. My heart really went out to Tina. She has been training for five months! Now she can't run the marathon with us. I hope she runs again once she has recovered. She has been such an amazing running buddy. </div><br /><br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9bQ1VP3dDIg3kMPbnD_Zh4dzhxZls9ErVnDgyImF8xat9hyp9CD_CSUrJ2P7irHgKF68b8UA7MaM_9Zvvo9Lp1m4xUOJqYBrZVZoVb2jGg3f1dQXvtesF6YATEE0EVRtOXG4ldG85QQw/s1600-h/tina+2.jpg"></a></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255591766579271218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZS_vYRraSNSya0pI4AJ3nfhbIcDGuakn2pSen2FCZMSvNrtUP9O7Zw3zLiiT6GZT2q5ZeO6kCqAE8gddRpR_eGXFsBZ18JhqGOG2PuQ6Als6Axps-CazdNx4R3imhHUEfHlx3rhoF7Hw/s320/tina+2.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div align="left">What a lesson. </div><br /><div>This week has been a battle for me but one good thing has come out of it. My appreciation for running has returned. I am still healing, but I feel better every day. I am taking my supplements, applying ice and heat and changing my attitude (which is the hardest part). I do like running. It is hard and painful, but that is part of what makes it great! I feel like one tough chick. </div><br /><div>The marathon is 9 days away. I am so grateful for this renewed vision of my quest. I can't believe it is almost here! </div><br /><div>Such an incredible journey.</div></div>JAMIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11710952743697911405noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2129369134508687943.post-83839752544031861702008-10-01T10:09:00.000-07:002008-10-10T10:28:02.743-07:0020 miles<span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0);font-size:180%;" ><strong>S</strong></span>ince <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian</a> and I were away in Santa Cruz, we missed the 20 mile run with the team. This meant we had to run it on our own the following weekend.<br /><br />Bright and early, we kicked ourselves out of bed to beat the heat and prepare for the longest run in our training. With two cars filled with back up Gatorade and energy gels parked on opposite sides of Balboa park we were ready! The weather was cool and our water belts were filled. One loop around the entire park is five miles. It is best during a long run to break it down into manageable laps.<br /><br /><strong><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0)">Lap #1:</span></strong> I would now like to compose a poem dedicated to my water belt.<br /><br />Ahem...<br /><br /><div align="center">Ode To My Water Belt</div><div align="center">by Jamie Moniz<br /><br />Devil belt<br />Why do you slide up my waste</div><div align="center">like the greedy fingers of a teenager?</div><div align="center">Jiggle jiggle, bounce bounce</div><div align="center">You ignore my pulls and tugs</div><div align="center">My constant adjusting and re-adjusting of your velcro strap</div><div align="center">You seem happiest when bouncing high upon my waste</div><div align="center">You get pleasure in my chafed skin and bruised hips</div><div align="center">If I could make one humble request, it would be"</div><div align="center">STAY WHERE I PUT YOU FOR THE LOVE OF GOD</div><div align="center">YOU STUPID BELT!!! When this is over I will</div><div align="center">BURN YOUR PLASTIC AND VELCRO</div><div align="center">WHILE DANCING IN A TRIBAL FASHION</div><div align="center">then TAKE YOU TO THE RECYCLING PLANT</div><div align="center">to have you TURNED INTO A STRAIGHT JACKET</div><div align="center">WHICH IS WHAT YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN ALL ALONG</div><div align="center">BECAUSE YOU ARE DRIVING ME F*%KING MAD!</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><p>The End. </p><p></p></div><div align="center"></div><div align="left"><strong><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0)">Lap #2:</span></strong> See lap #1</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0)"><strong></strong><p><strong>Lap #3: </strong></span>This was the lap where I parted ways with my beloved water belt and agreed (after much arguing) to share <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian's </a>gatorade for the remainder of the run. We had two places to refill the bottle, so it wasn't too bad. My groin started to hurt on this lap, perhaps because of the 2-hour wrestling match I had with my water belt. I tried not to pay attention and kept going.</p></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0)"><strong></strong></span></div><div align="left"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0)"><strong></strong><p><strong>Lap #4: </strong></span>The "cool down" lap. This run was particularly challenging. I almost always gag and throw up when I force those energy gels down my throat. They bounce around in my stomache for ten minutes and I have visions of my face in the nearest trash can. So I had to develop a mantra for these trying times. In rhythm to my feet I silently repeated the phrase, "I feel like a million bucks, I feel like a million bucks". I started talking to my legs, "One more lap guys! Take us home." My green truck marked 2/3's of the way to the finish. It looked so beautiful! It sparkled in the sunlight singing, "Come to me! I have Gatorade." During the long runs, stopping for too long is a death sentence. If you stop running for more than a minute, your body thinks it is time to send you all the back pain messages it has been saving so you could survive the run. Getting started again is painful. So we stopped for a quick second and forged on. <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian</a> asked how I was feeling. I puffed, "I feel like a million bucks (LIE)". The good news was that my body was sort of numb as long as I kept moving. <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian</a>, running at a slower pace the whole way to stay with me, seemed to be doing great. I asked him how he was. He said his calf was cramping up and hurt pretty bad. I felt better that I wasn't in pain alone. I was starting to believe he had super powers. There it was. The end of our run. As we jogged toward the finish, Brian grabbed my hand. We crossed the finish line together! Whew. It took us a total of 3 hours and 41 minutes. </p></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><strong><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0)"></span></strong></div><div align="left"><strong><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,204,0)"><p>After the run, </span></strong>we walked around for a bit. I knew if I tried to sit, I would fall since I had completely lost the ability to control my legs. We stretched and got in our cars to return home. When I tried to get out of my car, I felt severe pain in my groin. How do you limp with a groin injury? Every part of your leg is attached to that area. I looked like a zombie. I welcomed the ice bath and slept like the dead. Overall feeling, ACCOMPLISHED. </p></div>JAMIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11710952743697911405noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2129369134508687943.post-89436791127233049772008-09-25T14:25:00.000-07:002008-10-11T16:23:02.297-07:00The Best Run of My TrainingBreathing in the ocean air, water crashing at my feet and a lighthouse beckoning me further. This was my best five mile run since the first day of training.<br /><br /><div><div>In mid September, Brian and I went to stay with his family at a beach house in Santa Cruz for a week. We kept up with our training and did a five-mile run through the harbor to the local lighthouse. It was beautiful. </div><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254155750638540850" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 358px; height: 255px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGN5BtRQVAIefFaeHFfXFzc1qjJvP2dF_ozWOTaXm6JH-368S1-GZC9OFiLGbfLafRcwIZOp9eBBnlDsmGxJ4I8MkFSSnSC7SnPHgMIcrTMwAtmk2Vc4Y9G8MiTmIkr8LrFweoXcTc0xw/s320/SC+Lighthouse+copy.jpg" border="0" height="237" width="354" /></p><br /><p>As we ran upon the sandy path to the lighthouse, water splashed up on the rocks as if to cheer us on. </p><p>We did a 30 minute run in the sand earlier in the week. It was EXTREMELY challenging. Running in sand is very exhausting. It was a good workout. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRGlo5KC17E3A-trkDY_qfw8ab1lpusNMHlPzuD9zu4LaezrD3SSYX2l8yQD3GwgF5Cbl9Am_eo9reL__Lg5TI2dontE9cr4tcb0GJZfFODBCOe4iH1Nul_4YJEtAAEsbl7-KCx4xTOaw/s1600-h/bj+SC+dij.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254158178132945282" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left; width: 297px; height: 282px;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRGlo5KC17E3A-trkDY_qfw8ab1lpusNMHlPzuD9zu4LaezrD3SSYX2l8yQD3GwgF5Cbl9Am_eo9reL__Lg5TI2dontE9cr4tcb0GJZfFODBCOe4iH1Nul_4YJEtAAEsbl7-KCx4xTOaw/s320/bj+SC+dij.jpg" border="0" /></a>Our nights were spent around a bonfire singing and playing our instruments. Brian played his didgeridoo, his mom clanged the shovel against the rocks, Angela, Rachel and I sang, Kevin and Brian's Dad played the bongo drum. We were like the Triplets of Belleville! We roasted marshmallows, ate smores and had a blast. </p><br /><p></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254157741330248626" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB1PKN5A7AL6NbzC515FdFFa5S5jdaqxG-dzSMgIM661XYb9KXPFrcNHrs5Cvhzj4jN9AwC6ACGAzrIkNdTqthT-nXbAPa5hCk7tYDDhZ4Wf7cb88PUNWnx2ropi3KmLI_eBpBdToq02g/s320/Untitled-1+copy.jpg" border="0" /></div><br /><p>We knew our longest run was just around the corner, but we relaxed, laughed and ate delicious food. It was a good week.</p>JAMIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11710952743697911405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2129369134508687943.post-83792017330856844012008-09-19T12:36:00.000-07:002008-09-19T12:52:12.203-07:00REMISSION BABY!!!The timing for this marathon couldn't be more perfect. Brian's Dad, Rich, will be undergoing his stem cell transplant around the same time that we are running the marathon in his honor. This is just too big to be coincidence. We got some great news about his treatment and recovery. So read on!<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#ffff00;">The results from Brian's Dad's bone marrow taken a month ago show that he has 0.92% myeloma cells, and the doctor said that with the additional month of treatment he has gone through since the test was done, he believes that Rich is in 100% remission…yeah you read that right ONE HUNDRED F’N PERCENT REMISSION!!! Not only that but the doctor believes he is in the 60-70% of people who, after a stem cell transplant, will be CURED FOR LIFE!!! </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#ffff00;"></span></strong><br />When Brian called me to tell me the news, I burst with like 5 emotions at once! I was laughing and crying at the same time. I was at work, so I had to walk outside so I could shout, </span><span style="color:#ffff00;"><strong>"WooooooHooooo!"</strong></span> Miracles do happen. I know he did so well because of the strength and unity of his family. Rich hardly experienced any side effects from his six-month treatment. He is ready to go in for this surgery strong. I know he will have a full recovery and be cured for life. I believe it deeper than I have ever believed anything. <br /><br />We are making up our 20 mile run this Saturday. This is the longest run in our training before the marathon. I will have gatorade in my belt and Brian by my side. We can conquer anything!<br /><br />By the way, come to the fundraiser show I am producing this Sunday night at 8 pm. See the flyer above for details. We are having a silent auction, live music and a lot of laughs. I hope to see you there!JAMIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11710952743697911405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2129369134508687943.post-90345022241710675432008-09-04T15:36:00.000-07:002008-09-05T13:03:28.967-07:0018 Miles...This calls for some new shoes!<div align="left">Life has kept me pretty busy, so I am cramming three weeks worth of training news into one blog. Here we go! </div><br /><span style="color:#ffff00;"><strong>August 16th: Ran 16 miles! </strong></span>This marked the second 4-mile jump for me. It was also the day I finally caught up to the team. I kept a pretty good pace (about 10-minute miles). I ran with our Mentor, Paul and teammate, Nick. I was making them sweat trying to keep up with me! At one point, Nick said between huffs, "I refuse to let a girl pass me!" This was a big confidence booster. I went from not being able to run at all, to passing the guys on the team. Brian was still far ahead in the distance, but I will catch up to him soon enough :0) I finished with a blister on my toe and a tired smile on my face.<br /><br /><span style="color:#ffff00;"><strong>August 23rd: My birthday! </strong></span>Instead of running, Brian and I went with his brother Trevor and Trevor's wife Rachel to San Diego to see Dave Matthews Band in concert. It was so nice to blow off some steam and relax in the grass. We were on the lawn. Trevor and Rachel bought my first DMB concert t-shirt.<br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHoAf0Y2eybHL_5fO8SpOZF4OAbaOBe5W-LbsQvXRomLIK9eAhirAkfjaAkmHTiPnzMpVHljBFlFYFaYlDmqNwVztkKkFKExQsDMUjjZd8bf3gGCZ0i-yvPRZJSK_BgD7Ut-f-07MkAy8/s1600-h/Dave_Matthews_Band.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242625743886443810" style="CURSOR: hand" height="220" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHoAf0Y2eybHL_5fO8SpOZF4OAbaOBe5W-LbsQvXRomLIK9eAhirAkfjaAkmHTiPnzMpVHljBFlFYFaYlDmqNwVztkKkFKExQsDMUjjZd8bf3gGCZ0i-yvPRZJSK_BgD7Ut-f-07MkAy8/s320/Dave_Matthews_Band.jpg" width="308" border="0" /></a></p><span style="color:#ffff00;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="color:#ffff00;"><strong>August 30: Ran 18 miles.</strong></span> Every time we increase the mileage, it feels surreal. When I tell people how far I have run, I can't believe it's <strong>me</strong> talking! I never thought I would be doing something like this. It is changing my life. Brian and I watched the women's marathon in the Olympics. We watched as these women ran 5 to 6-minute miles without stopping for 2 hours and 26 minutes. It took me 3 and 1/2 hours to run 18 miles. People have asked me, "have you experienced the runner's high yet?" What I have experienced is the relief that follows the temporary numbing of the pain receptors in my body so I can get through my run. I wouldn't call this a high. It is more like a defense mechanism of the body. For the first 10 miles, I feel aches and pains. After that, my legs sort of go dumb. They stop sending pain messages until I stop running. I told a team mate about this and she said it was my endorphins kicking in. Endorphins? I didn't feel high, just numb. This is the runner's high. If any of you got the chance to watch the Olympic Marathons, you may remember the faces of the runners. Almost all of them were wincing in pain. You could see them gritting their teeth, and squinting. Not a single one of them looked like they were experiencing the "runner's high" until, that is, they reached the finish line. This is a different kind of high. The kind of high that comes from a sense of accomplishment. From knowing that you have pushed your body further than it has ever gone before. There is a raw, burning feeling in the lungs where every precious breath is felt, down to the tiniest oxygen molecule. The pain starts to set in, but it doesn't matter because you've realized that your mind is stronger than pain, doubt or fatigue. <span style="color:#ffff00;"><strong>This is my runner's high.</strong></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#ffff00;"><strong>After an estimated total of 100 miles,</strong></span> it was time for some new shoes. Off we went to Phidippides (the best running store ever!) They always take really good care of us there. I got a different brand, but same style shoe. These shoes have little air pocket at the ball of the foot for extra cushion. I love 'em! They feel great. When Jeff, the guy who helped me with my shoes, took off my old running shoes he looked inside, smiled and grabbed the trash can next to the bench to empty out all the tiny rocks and dust that had accumulated inside. I didn't even notice the rocks anymore. We run on the dirt trails as much as possible because it is easier on the joints. My dirty shoes were a badge of honor! I am thinking of keeping them as a souvenir.<br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIANXSY494OSVdszt0H2I37IQVAzcODHeXrNMg2gYTsfRaF3EJr2f503notBKMINp97vCdbBN3RgfOOUgWYJO2IuCSrtukGNXAI8vCytU8D3q9hz2njZDz1cYC9_xjkuyxZNEPvAO1Wso/s1600-h/Image0016R.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242623815057886018" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIANXSY494OSVdszt0H2I37IQVAzcODHeXrNMg2gYTsfRaF3EJr2f503notBKMINp97vCdbBN3RgfOOUgWYJO2IuCSrtukGNXAI8vCytU8D3q9hz2njZDz1cYC9_xjkuyxZNEPvAO1Wso/s320/Image0016R.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p align="center">Old Shoes after 100 miles...</p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXGfB7f9FU-qtAxEsIrJlA3GEu03QnBTC0xs4TaAYsw5Kn_ZjaH0B2OGMVLGcyYHAvE2WIOK5U1pBzGLAdGz6y3bi10nygQHYG9QLuL_imkSl-EsYYWtX-aoz0h5cAKuUvYFTlW9rCmGM/s1600-h/Image0014R.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242623813766927650" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXGfB7f9FU-qtAxEsIrJlA3GEu03QnBTC0xs4TaAYsw5Kn_ZjaH0B2OGMVLGcyYHAvE2WIOK5U1pBzGLAdGz6y3bi10nygQHYG9QLuL_imkSl-EsYYWtX-aoz0h5cAKuUvYFTlW9rCmGM/s320/Image0014R.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p align="center">New Shoes!<br /></p><p align="right"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXGfB7f9FU-qtAxEsIrJlA3GEu03QnBTC0xs4TaAYsw5Kn_ZjaH0B2OGMVLGcyYHAvE2WIOK5U1pBzGLAdGz6y3bi10nygQHYG9QLuL_imkSl-EsYYWtX-aoz0h5cAKuUvYFTlW9rCmGM/s1600-h/Image0014R.jpg"></a></p><br /><br /><p align="right"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXGfB7f9FU-qtAxEsIrJlA3GEu03QnBTC0xs4TaAYsw5Kn_ZjaH0B2OGMVLGcyYHAvE2WIOK5U1pBzGLAdGz6y3bi10nygQHYG9QLuL_imkSl-EsYYWtX-aoz0h5cAKuUvYFTlW9rCmGM/s1600-h/Image0014R.jpg"></a></p>JAMIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11710952743697911405noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2129369134508687943.post-32641998875421789692008-08-13T13:00:00.000-07:002008-08-13T15:30:02.431-07:00I Will Not Be Swayed...Not Even By Success<span style="font-weight: bold;">suc·cess [suhk-ses]</span> -noun<br />the favorable or prosperous termination of attempts or endeavors.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">per·se·ver·ance [pur-suh-veer-uhns]</span>-noun<br />steady persistence in a course of action, a purpose, a state, etc., esp. in spite of difficulties, obstacles, or discouragement... <span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;">Or success</span><br /><br />I am writing today from a place of love and gratitude. My personal fund raising goal for this marathon has not only been met, it has been exceeded! Thank you all so much for your grace, charity, love, support, and compassion. Because of you, people are finding hope and getting well again. <span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;">A thousand thanks would not be enough to express my gratitude.</span><br /><br />A funny thing happens when a major goal is accomplished. There is a sense of satisfaction followed by a potential "termination of attempts or endeavors". Imagine what can happen if one pushes past that point of success. <span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;">I feel proud of this accomplishment but with 2 months to go, I know I can do more.</span><br /><br />At the May 17th kick-off meeting a Team In Training Honored Teammate, Audrey Duffy, shared her personal story with us about her battle with lymphoma. She has undergone chemotherapy, a bone marrow transplant and a stem cell transplant since she was diagnosed in 2002. This year, she is completing her 20th event with Team In Training! She was also a top fund raiser.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha_WYJ0PKTeNogp3NpOsDPvA0Ml2Pbir-U5xKoaLdMWdozn6xd1wV6PzPQQeOqh5TAki8wN3rpxsTN22083dsvNyKswedB8i60IoL-6vLS-f2-1sEVOQ4WfqeTAuGzLv18CI68kwX9UjY/s1600-h/Audrey.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 258px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha_WYJ0PKTeNogp3NpOsDPvA0Ml2Pbir-U5xKoaLdMWdozn6xd1wV6PzPQQeOqh5TAki8wN3rpxsTN22083dsvNyKswedB8i60IoL-6vLS-f2-1sEVOQ4WfqeTAuGzLv18CI68kwX9UjY/s320/Audrey.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234121252772411794" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">When I heard her speak at the meeting, I was inspired and filled with hope. I made a silent vow to be a top fund raiser.</span> As time went on, I started to doubt my abilities. Not only was I facing physical obstacles, I was also far behind <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian</a> in the fund raising campaign. He met his goal in July. Now that I have seen what can be accomplished, I have a fresh determination. I have been given the gift of seeing that I can pass limitations, achieve bigger goals and cross that finish line! I know I will look back on this moment as a life changing experience.<br /><br />Training has been such a remarkable experience. I ran 7 miles with the team on Saturday, 2 of which were up a pretty steep hill. We are starting to see those San Francisco hills in our minds. I am 35 seconds faster per mile than when I started. I won't give up, for<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;">"I have promises to keep</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;">and miles to go before I sleep,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;">and miles to go before I sleep"</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;">-Robert Frost</span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br />So my question to you guys is <span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;"><br />HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE LIFE SAVING HEROES!?!</span><br />We are doing it together. Your comments, your encouragement, your congratulations are the reason I keep going. I love you.<br /><br />Thank you. You are my heroes.<br /><br />To my anonymous donor: Wow! What an amazing gift. I am humbled by your donation and by your selfless act of kindness without the need for recognition or thanks. You represent the purity of a virtuous act.<br /><br /><br /></div></div><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span>JAMIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11710952743697911405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2129369134508687943.post-55209790049486810112008-08-05T14:18:00.000-07:002008-08-07T14:30:40.171-07:00The Hamster Wheel<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCyw9vMFyk4H_Grw_HxZy_GgFfQGiU57TYLVvLh0nZy0tAnYusLJ0ksYjalS9kGn-nu5E8yf0TRz2aaj_aLNYljHaHaE0KmL7yTPp4rrad_sJumZcYvdYf-c34c8TIG345X1ZS9EDtSpo/s1600-h/phoenix.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCyw9vMFyk4H_Grw_HxZy_GgFfQGiU57TYLVvLh0nZy0tAnYusLJ0ksYjalS9kGn-nu5E8yf0TRz2aaj_aLNYljHaHaE0KmL7yTPp4rrad_sJumZcYvdYf-c34c8TIG345X1ZS9EDtSpo/s320/phoenix.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231872451838659330" border="0" /></a> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center; line-height: normal; color: rgb(204, 204, 204);" align="center"><b><i><span style="">Like the mighty phoenix</span></i></b><span style=""><o:p></o:p></span><br /><b><i><span style="">Once again I rise from the flames set to destroy me & take flight</span></i></b><b><span style=""><br /><i>I am</i> <i>Stronger</i> <i><br />Glorious</i> <i><br />Powerful</i> <i><br />Victorious</i></span></b><span style=""><o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: right; color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"><span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;"><span style="">Kirsti A. Dyer, MD, MS</span></span></div>I imagine that is how cancer survivors feel<i style="font-family: times new roman; font-weight: bold;"><br /></i></div><br />After last week's disappointment I had two choices: bow in defeat or rise. <span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;">I chose to rise...like</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;"> the Phoenix.</span><br /><br />"No more messing around"...That was my mantra this week as I confronted my pain and declared, <span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;">"I will not go gentle into that good night."</span><br /><br />I know I said I would never take an ice bath again, but <span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;">desperate times call for squealing in ice water.</span> <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian</a> and I sat there, freezing our inflamed joints for 20 minutes while I read aloud the Newsweek magazine with Obama on the cover. My voice trembled as I tried to distract myself and <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian</a> from the thoughts of ice crystals forming on our toes. We emerged numb and cold, but feeling better. The ice baths do really help, even if they are painful at first.<br /><br />Due to the amount of pain I was in, I had been skipping my strength and cross training in hopes of speeding my recovery. Big mistake. I realize now, that strength and cross training are tools in speeding recovery and preventing further injury. So Monday, I worked my leg muscles with a strength training routine that our coach, Brett, showed me. Then I hit the elliptical for 30 minutes. I felt so tired, so drained, but I kept going.<br /><br />I decided to skip hill repeats with the team on Wednesday and focus on getting myself running on flat ground.<span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"> </span><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">I went to the local park and forced my tired, sore legs to hobble at a slow, gentle jog.</span></span><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"> </span>I had to walk for a bit to warm up, but I was able to run through the pain. It was bearable enough for me to complete 4 miles.<br /><br />My confidence was coming back! I started to feel less sore as the week went on. I was eating better and getting more sleep. I realized that I needed to treat my body as an athlete's body. This means demanding better for myself. The discipline required to run this marathon has spilled out past the training days into my everyday life. I think about hydrating a day before my runs. I exchange parties for early bedtimes. <span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;">Everything I do revolves around my runs. </span><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;">I can't believe this is me!</span><br /><br />On Friday my sister, Diana, and her husband, Matt, flew us to <span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;">Phoenix</span> to celebrate my nephew's 1st birthday with my family. We got in at 8 pm, ate dinner and went to bed. We were up with the rugrats at 7:30 to go for our run. It was 110 degrees outside, so we had no choice but to hit the gym. That is where I found <span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;">The Hamster Wheel...</span> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV4Xfu4WDCypi2mst0OFkWbmcw-QEiTUfEcwa832XQt2kE-94tI-eWq1DVLyaIYoNMb6aeWmEQbUJlEqcHTuXxWyO-JVrhCrud2ffXP0a8gQyn5GNm0-VgDRnp2ndk0SchGkD-r3TRocw/s1600-h/hamster+wheel+joke.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV4Xfu4WDCypi2mst0OFkWbmcw-QEiTUfEcwa832XQt2kE-94tI-eWq1DVLyaIYoNMb6aeWmEQbUJlEqcHTuXxWyO-JVrhCrud2ffXP0a8gQyn5GNm0-VgDRnp2ndk0SchGkD-r3TRocw/s320/hamster+wheel+joke.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231866642933810866" border="0" /></a>The tiny track squeezed the gym, requiring 12 laps to complete a mile. It laughed at us as if to say, "See if you can do this without losing count". I felt like a hamster in a wheel. During the first 3 miles, I fought off the insanity of passing the exact same point 36 times. <span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;">I tried not to think that I would see the same weight set, same aerobics room, same staircase <span style="font-style: italic;">144 times</span> before I was through.</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"> </span>This was a mental battle as well as a physical one. The good news was that I was running without any pain. This kept me going and pretty soon, I found my rhythm.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY3nXP9z6YkSEk9thfaFXzJZxyCdRgazl2DPf9ZvHnqWlqA0TKStCD1VsGDtDTRCh-bpbeDysnfxLnTCuWfSlHePvJOtKKROntYnrxq-wsLCRH_sOg368N7WZ3nRVtRyPZw3TJkhuPhdM/s1600-h/brian+gym.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 309px; height: 236px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY3nXP9z6YkSEk9thfaFXzJZxyCdRgazl2DPf9ZvHnqWlqA0TKStCD1VsGDtDTRCh-bpbeDysnfxLnTCuWfSlHePvJOtKKROntYnrxq-wsLCRH_sOg368N7WZ3nRVtRyPZw3TJkhuPhdM/s320/brian+gym.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231870217817435906" border="0" /></a><a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian </a>zipped by with the occasional goose or pat on the back.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;">He lapped me more times </span><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;">than</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;"> I care to</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;"> mention, but I didn't mind. He inspired me to try harder.</span><br /><br />I met a girl named Heather on the track. She was also training for an endurance run. She plans to run in the New York marathon in November. We ran together from mile 4 to mile 6. This was just what I needed to take my mind off the dizzying merry-go-round of a track we were on. I started to get more energy and felt my pace quickening. At the end of mile 6, we parted and she took on the treadmill for a while. Her timing was perfect. She got me over that hump. <span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;">Thanks</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;"> Heather!</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">At about mile #9 I started bargaining with myself. "Maybe I'll just do 10 miles," I thought. Once I got to 10, <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian </a>ran by and asked if I was going to do 12. A breathy, "we'll see" blew out of my mouth. My legs were dumb to the running and I felt hardly any pain. My mind, however, was very aware of each lap. I developed a counting system on my fingers so I wouldn't lose track. Each lap was a step further than I thought I could go. <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian</a> ran 14 miles in the time it took me to run 12. He actually completed his run 3 laps before mine was finished, so he ran beside me as I pushed myself past all my mental barriers. When I finally stopped, I couldn't believe what I had just done. Did I really run 12 miles?!? Why weren't my legs hurting? It was like a dream. <span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;">I CONQUERED THE HAMSTER WHEEL!</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjUOAIhIwcPUZDjaPNSLw6AZq1-VVS9J6AiKj9b7jY0q5xyNXvUfywG4D7SPdHZbF7CxvlEC8kDaVer0f2pHY-L5NaMpY4zQGpNPaWzNv6srHDeOJc7L8YzvuzbACo0lQ19_xonz6NccM/s1600-h/hamster+wheel3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjUOAIhIwcPUZDjaPNSLw6AZq1-VVS9J6AiKj9b7jY0q5xyNXvUfywG4D7SPdHZbF7CxvlEC8kDaVer0f2pHY-L5NaMpY4zQGpNPaWzNv6srHDeOJc7L8YzvuzbACo0lQ19_xonz6NccM/s320/hamster+wheel3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231891008271065570" border="0" /></a>We left with enough energy to enjoy my nephew's first birthday party. It was a lot of fun! My sister made cakes that looked like baseballs. Jeffrey, my nephew, had cake all over his face. My niece, Sadie, and I decorated the house with streamers and balloons. Jeffrey handled himself in style. He wasn't swayed by the army of kids scampering around, popping balloons. All he cared about was mom and cake.<br /></div><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;">It was a pretty good day.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfWdFSS7C5fXDJ9LzrrNpeALbrAZ_3dDy0KM_XhCZiKAhzRnwGwqEd8rMnDwkMdWh4wpnlurySPK2VGpzBYq6pMKNyrcMP9qwZf5b1UYvpX_SVWA2UdAzTHc9jNFrBvuSoG2bJZQ2YXqM/s1600-h/jeffery+bday.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfWdFSS7C5fXDJ9LzrrNpeALbrAZ_3dDy0KM_XhCZiKAhzRnwGwqEd8rMnDwkMdWh4wpnlurySPK2VGpzBYq6pMKNyrcMP9qwZf5b1UYvpX_SVWA2UdAzTHc9jNFrBvuSoG2bJZQ2YXqM/s320/jeffery+bday.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231875129743777026" border="0" /></a>JAMIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11710952743697911405noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2129369134508687943.post-50574742094815644432008-07-28T16:29:00.000-07:002008-07-31T16:39:45.908-07:00Hills, Miles and a Trip to the Hospital<span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:180%;">F</span>or the past two Wednesdays, the team has been incorporating hill repeats into our training.</span> What are hill repeats you ask? Well, let me fill you in. For 1 - 2 minutes, we run up a steep hill as fast as we can. Then we turn around and walk back down for 3 minutes. We repeat this 5 times and then we run for about 7 minutes after to cool down. This may not seem like much of a work out, but my knees would argue that point.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">By Friday, I could barely walk.</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>I had survived two weeks of this running / hills /running program. My body was trying to tell me something and I wasn't listening. "Ease back in to the training, you are killing yourself," my knees said. I just tried to keep going.<br /><br />Saturday morning, the team was taking a bit of a break with a 6-mile run. This was the perfect opportunity for me to catch up! My running specialist, Jeff Waldberg, advised me to increase my mileage by 2 each week until I caught up to the team. This Saturday, I was to run 9 miles. I hobbled to the starting point and got ready to run. About 2 minutes into the run, I was in some serious pain. This wasn't like my ankle pain. This pain ran along the bone from my right knee, all the way down to my right ankle. My left ankle was also sore (I think I rolled it on Wednesday). What a mess! I resigned to walking and crying for the first 3 miles. I was far behind Brian and the rest of the team. To say that I was frustrated would be a huge understatement. I was PISSED! I was berating my body. "Why can't you do what I want you to!?!" <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">Limp, limp...sniff, sniff.</span><br /><br />At the turn around point, <a href="http://pages.teamintraining.org/los/nikesf08/bmoniz">Brian</a> was passing in the other direction and he ran over to join me. We walked together for a while. He offered words of encouragement and I listened. I tried like hell not to show the other team mates that I was crying. A few of them knew, but let me have my space to deal with it in my own way. We got to the bottom of the hill, which was to be the last mile for the team. I rested at the water spot while <a href="http://pages.teamintraining.org/los/nikesf08/bmoniz">Brian</a> ran ahead to conquer his hill. Rob, one of the fastest runners on the team asked me how I was:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiceZRQ3H6daokkzY8s_irIdYI6zNprh2Wr4z8ETlBXXDhI47l0bfVq13JEXzM3Ztq8C4ESOYvkryDeE_hyphenhyphen9tDHRHf49JVgE3W1rKVGtoeHw47cnroPzlPRaWy1mGs5egdZFeTOWjoH7BM/s1600-h/Rob.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiceZRQ3H6daokkzY8s_irIdYI6zNprh2Wr4z8ETlBXXDhI47l0bfVq13JEXzM3Ztq8C4ESOYvkryDeE_hyphenhyphen9tDHRHf49JVgE3W1rKVGtoeHw47cnroPzlPRaWy1mGs5egdZFeTOWjoH7BM/s320/Rob.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229326709982510194" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">Me: In pain</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">Rob: So quit</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">Me: NO!!</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">Rob: That's the spirit, I wasn't going to let you anyway.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">Me: I have to walk. I can't run, it hurts too much.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">Rob: So what are you gonna do about it?</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">Me: I'm gonna walk</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">Rob: Great, see ya when you get back.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">This was just the attitude I needed to get me back in the game.</span> Jeff told me that mileage was the most important thing. He said even if I have to walk, just get the mileage in and it will pay off. So I walked.<br /><br />I was completely alone on the second lap. The trail seemed different without the team. <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">I drew upon my determination and decided that crying was a waste of energy.</span> I started speed walking. I thought of Wayne, the team's walking coach and tried to imitate him. He walks faster than some of the runners. I had so many doubts trying to overtake me. "Maybe they are right, maybe I can't run the full marathon...maybe I will be forced to do the half...what if I have to walk the whole 26 miles?!?" As I approached DeSoto (the turn-around point) all those thoughts evaporated with my sweat. I walked proudly to that pole and slapped it a high-five. Yeah I was walking it, but I was accomplishing my goal! (no matter how slow)<br /><br />As I turned around, I saw <a href="http://pages.teamintraining.org/los/nikesf08/bmoniz">Brian</a> running up from a distance. He ran all the way up to find and walk with me. I knew it was all down hill from there. With Brian by my side, the walk back took no time at all! As we got closer I saw our coach, Brett, running up to join us. Almost everyone had left, but Brett came back to see if I was ok. While we were walking back he got a call from Susan, our team captain. <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">She asked if I wanted her to pick us up in our car. A big "NO" resounded from Brian's and my mouth.</span> I think Brett was a bit bummed at the idea of walking in the heat, but he stuck with us to the end.<br /><br />At the water stop, I was met with cheering and applause from the few team mates that stuck around. I only went 8 miles, but it felt good to say I did it. <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">I DID IT!</span><br /><br />This week, I will be skipping hill repeats. I am hitting the gym for strength training and elliptical work outs. It's time for me to take my body seriously. <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">NO MORE MESSIN' AROUND!</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR-Z71YZZerLFiPNe1ERSLOw4WwmCM-azENcNzFMB8Bhd8mONAWb3dH88fLbeM1c3i2EuadujIHpY_6xSDybAVvGEsIo_B_SpIL8qmllsrWnJ2CK9gAaTHBkBL5DglK1Br93DShc_z3XA/s1600-h/photo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR-Z71YZZerLFiPNe1ERSLOw4WwmCM-azENcNzFMB8Bhd8mONAWb3dH88fLbeM1c3i2EuadujIHpY_6xSDybAVvGEsIo_B_SpIL8qmllsrWnJ2CK9gAaTHBkBL5DglK1Br93DShc_z3XA/s320/photo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228233241273634274" border="0" /></a><br />Saturday afternoon, <a href="http://pages.teamintraining.org/los/nikesf08/bmoniz">Brian</a> and I joined the team in a trip to the children's hospital. They treat children for all kinds of cancer there. Some of the team mates brought cookies and cupcakes. We brought arts and crafts. Seeing these kids really put things into perspective for me. Some of them were so sick, their parents seemed so tired. It was amazing to me that people have to suffer through this. <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">What an honor it was to bring smiles to their faces.</span> I felt a little uncomfortable at first, but as we met more kids I found my confidence building. Next time, I'm going to try to get coach Brett to wear a cupcake costume :-)<br /><br />Next weekend, we will be in Arizona. <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">I will be running my 11 miles on the tread mill at the gym</span>. Stay tuned!JAMIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11710952743697911405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2129369134508687943.post-49384999931250462462008-07-25T13:34:00.000-07:002008-08-04T11:09:28.286-07:00The Cheetah and The Snail<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3KQdr-N647j2fkRBwf1NnScj9nnQmaOxuI6BLoA49DEbql2zXLnU9vEef3Z2gMFaRf6FvRdb6P7fJS8gWwlRr5_cy_k8AGrXNQku-BucQdl4rDmgxWRKfyp94rXSo56NFfg_G6MwheLs/s1600-h/Sign+up+day.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3KQdr-N647j2fkRBwf1NnScj9nnQmaOxuI6BLoA49DEbql2zXLnU9vEef3Z2gMFaRf6FvRdb6P7fJS8gWwlRr5_cy_k8AGrXNQku-BucQdl4rDmgxWRKfyp94rXSo56NFfg_G6MwheLs/s320/Sign+up+day.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227489582761131810" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">Above:<br />Brian and I after we got our jerseys at the May 17th kick-off meeting.<br />Seems so long ago!</span><br /></div><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0); font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:180%;">A</span>s I hobbled into work today, I reflected back on the journey thus far.</span> I am 2 months into training and have already had so many highs and lows. What lies ahead, I am not sure. I know how to find out, though. One foot in front of the other.<br /><br />Saturday came too quickly after our first round of hill repeats on Wednesday. My knees felt like two thorny balls as I glanced out the window at the grey cotton sky. My task seemed less significant than that of my team mates. They were to run 12 miles today and I, a mere 7. I shook off the cobwebs and creaked into the kitchen to take my daily assortment of supplements and anti-inflammatories. The calcium pills we take look like suppositories, both in size and appearance. Peanut butter toast is a bit hard to chew with a mouth that is still half asleep, but the fruit helps it slide down.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii5pHIq1YRJbbXMVtKTzR4RYngEhHTvOKwDqi4CHS5qaPzrRv6MjfnP7zMqNRU8dP4bUZbrNYr3HbLKBLvDcG13wS2T1cy9Uo0s9z8_sUi7S60MPmlHWWecmgkL0Y6-zGX5nPFjPi-X20/s1600-h/lake+balboa.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii5pHIq1YRJbbXMVtKTzR4RYngEhHTvOKwDqi4CHS5qaPzrRv6MjfnP7zMqNRU8dP4bUZbrNYr3HbLKBLvDcG13wS2T1cy9Uo0s9z8_sUi7S60MPmlHWWecmgkL0Y6-zGX5nPFjPi-X20/s320/lake+balboa.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227089357837119122" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0); font-weight: bold;">Balboa Lake was overcast and cool.</span> I could see the gratitude on my fellow runners' faces at the cooler temperatures. My trail was to be a little different than everyone else's due to the shorter mileage. I would have to swim upstream for the final two miles as everyone else took a second lap around the park. A bit of stretching and we were off!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVpqV6Nj-ZSkXMH7zSm09KF-T3qTt7zJ0unPbQ7qojR3JD-hDkkZbo4hVR4eBekWEVjIVeXwviL_AiEtTG9Q_ThZkEROhgb0JPYzbnnL3oU0irVGcT8cl8DPSqzGIEYe3WbrWH0ok5JwQ/s1600-h/Brian.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVpqV6Nj-ZSkXMH7zSm09KF-T3qTt7zJ0unPbQ7qojR3JD-hDkkZbo4hVR4eBekWEVjIVeXwviL_AiEtTG9Q_ThZkEROhgb0JPYzbnnL3oU0irVGcT8cl8DPSqzGIEYe3WbrWH0ok5JwQ/s320/Brian.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227089625712473554" border="0" /></a><a href="http://pages.teamintraining.org/los/nikesf08/bmoniz">Brian</a> decided to stay back and run with me for the first 5 miles. He is working on his running technique, so he doesn't mind going slower. It felt so good to have him by my side as we ran. I miss out on his experiences usually because I am just not fast enough to keep up with him. Today I was slower than usual. My legs felt like they were stuck in molasses. <span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0); font-weight: bold;">We are like a cheetah and a snail on the trail together.</span> The cheetah came back to bat the snail around a bit, then ran up ahead, then came back again to play.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0); font-weight: bold;">I was talking to my body, "Go faster, legs...Stop huffing, lungs...Straighten up, spine!" All of them, lazy rebellious teenagers in the marathon lifespan, ignored my requests.</span><br /><br /><a href="http://pages.teamintraining.org/los/nikesf08/bmoniz">Brian</a> literally hit an obstacle on the trail. If you want to know more about this, you'll have to read his <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">blog</a>. He paints quite a vivid picture.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdSW8-ptCoWUgDF9RueF3JSvxer_I002OQEVJ33LItUB4HgjmhQgOErd5caDwhE_NASUFzohVLcXPWfkdtWii1qr2-WMuzXURasf4BV-gbDAmYT8Os0M9hXfOX0fOFfhUdDsQsV_SI-Yc/s1600-h/Team.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdSW8-ptCoWUgDF9RueF3JSvxer_I002OQEVJ33LItUB4HgjmhQgOErd5caDwhE_NASUFzohVLcXPWfkdtWii1qr2-WMuzXURasf4BV-gbDAmYT8Os0M9hXfOX0fOFfhUdDsQsV_SI-Yc/s320/Team.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227485361040146898" border="0" /></a><br />We reached the 6 mile mark and my amazing husband and I parted ways. He was able to run at his normal pace now that the dead weight was removed. I took my bag of heavy bones back to the starting point. Other team mates seemed confused as I passed them going the wrong way. Their eyes said, "Poor girl must be lost". This didn't stop them from cheering me on as I passed! They are so supportive.<br /><br />On my way back to the starting point / water stop I saw a fellow team mate, Tracy. She told me before that she thinks she is the slowest runner on the team. I don't know if that is true. What I do know, is that she has been such an inspiration to me. She and I are like the little engines that keep telling ourselves, "I think I can". She was rounding up to her second lap around. I saw her determined face and felt inspired. I decided to turn around and run next to her for a while. <span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0); font-weight: bold;">I suddenly forgot about all the pain I was in.</span> I wanted nothing more than to encourage Tracy. Like me, she has dealt with a large helping of obstacles and keeps on going. We ran together for a bit and I turned around to head back again.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIU7E4tjGME_U8oPIx1lXEhu-VD1lMwF2Ydcqd5l4Xa9VLdEXn6cA-fMbepkfocAOGSu-rNlax5qhahPw7vmEe8wxWPr7sWBKg7Btz-dzFHyOJK5W5B9PSG7emYpOrs_Qgpf6b5hX6fIw/s1600-h/Tracy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIU7E4tjGME_U8oPIx1lXEhu-VD1lMwF2Ydcqd5l4Xa9VLdEXn6cA-fMbepkfocAOGSu-rNlax5qhahPw7vmEe8wxWPr7sWBKg7Btz-dzFHyOJK5W5B9PSG7emYpOrs_Qgpf6b5hX6fIw/s320/Tracy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227485879556480178" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHBQ2JBgS4AI_z9kJGijuYq5ZW59hFpx6h4vhmZYUq1PBGHlwQWDQj5BMH3znYmypuW2uokLmFVGA_zGiF799H2Xyxiuugu1Q-_wUn4O65kSb6v1FQMf_fS8RDgX40egooFOkAWQIYWKE/s1600-h/water+stop+signs.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHBQ2JBgS4AI_z9kJGijuYq5ZW59hFpx6h4vhmZYUq1PBGHlwQWDQj5BMH3znYmypuW2uokLmFVGA_zGiF799H2Xyxiuugu1Q-_wUn4O65kSb6v1FQMf_fS8RDgX40egooFOkAWQIYWKE/s320/water+stop+signs.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227494861608968594" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0); font-weight: bold;">At the water stop I became the ice-pack clad cheerleader,</span> welcoming my fellow runners as they turned the corner for the last stretch of the run. After the water stop, they only had 2 miles to go before they finished the big 12. I became fast friends with the water stop chief, Sue AKA Bucket. I asked her why they call her Bucket, she said it was a Vegas joke about the coin buckets. She was just adorable. She prompted us to make a tunnel for our team mates to run through as they went by.<br /><br />After the running, Brian and I went home and took an ice bath. I believe it may be the last one I ever take. <span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0); font-weight: bold;">IT WAS SO COLD!!!</span> This insane method was suggested to us by our coach and Brian's mentor. I suppose it was helpful, but I think I prefer ice packs. Brian didn't seem to mind it as much.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0); font-weight: bold;">Ice and Aleve are my two new best friends.</span> Check in with me next week, I will be up to the 9 mile marker! The rest of the team will be taking it easy and dropping down to 6 miles, so I should be able to catch up soon.<br /><br />Thanks again to you all for your support. <span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0); font-weight: bold;">Remember, my fundraising deadline is August 1st </span>(one week from now). I am at 1/4 my total goal, so now's the time! Some of you have chosen to split up your donations and give a little each payday. What a great idea!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://pages.teamintraining.org/los/nikesf08/jmoniz"><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0); font-weight: bold;">Donate here</span></span></a><br /></div>JAMIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11710952743697911405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2129369134508687943.post-54585244812310152592008-07-16T12:02:00.000-07:002008-07-18T16:22:22.407-07:00A Crossroads<span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">"A lot of people run to see who's the fastest. I run to see who has the most guts."</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"> -Steve Roland Prefontaine - American long distance runner</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);font-size:130%;" >Saturday was a landmark day for me.</span> For the first time since my injury one month ago, I ran with Team In Training! They were all set to run 10 miles. I started with 5 miles. The last time I ran, I was at 3 miles, so this was a jump for me.<br /><br />As we drove to the training spot, my mind wandered. I couldn't let myself think about whether I was going to fail. I refused to think about my ankle, my knee or my ability to catch up to the team. I stared out the window thinking, <span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);font-size:130%;" >"I have seen a lot of sunrises since I started training". </span><br /><br />At the meeting place, everyone was awake and enthusiastic. We all congratulated <a href="http://pages.teamintraining.org/los/nikesf08/bmoniz">Brian</a> on his website. He got a 'team star' for having the best one. I beamed with pride as I watched him get one of his many moments in the sun since our training began. He is one of the fastest on the team, he has already reached his fund raising goal, and he has the best website. <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">My husband kicks ass!</span></span><br /><br />I felt encouraged by the smiling faces welcoming me back. I tried not to think about being behind. Every time <a href="http://pages.teamintraining.org/los/nikesf08/bmoniz">Brian</a> told me they were increasing the mileage while I was on the bike, I felt discouraged and worried that I would never catch up. <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">This run would determine my place in this marathon.</span></span> If I was unable to run over 3 miles without severe pain, I would have to consider running the half-marathon or walking. Neither of those seemed to be an option for me.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">This day marked a crossroads in my training.</span></span> As Robert Frost said, "Two roads diverged in a wood". Would I be able to take the one less traveled by? Or would I be forced to listen to Dr. Negativity and have to "stay off it". We crossed the street to begin the run.<br /><br />I started with a pace group that ran two minutes slower than my original time. <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">Today was about endurance, not speed. </span></span> I took off with the new running technique I learned from Jeff Waldberg. I felt like I was traveling at a snail's pace. On top of that, Jeff advised me to run for 2 minutes, walk for 1 minute. I was soon behind my pace group on the path by myself with the occasional team mate running past me. I didn't even feel like I was getting a work out. My ego wanted me to GO FASTER! I resisted and kept the pre-determined pace. After two miles, I increased my run/walk ratio to 3:1. I stayed with the slower pace and found a team mate who was running at around the same speed. It was nice to be able to talk to some one while running. If I had been running at my normal pace, I would have had a more difficult time carrying on a conversation. Lauren was my running buddy and we kept each other going from mile 3 to mile 5. At the end of mile 5, I was in a little bit of pain but felt I could run more if I wanted to. I DID want to, but took the advice I got from Jeff to start small.<br /><br />I hung out with our Team Captain, Susan, at the water station with a bag of ice on my ankle. It was a little puffy, but not too painful. As the other team mates started to trickle in from their 10 mile run, <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">they still had the energy to congratulate me with tired sweaty smiles</span></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">.</span> What an awesome team. I ran half what they ran, and they congratulated me! Well, I gave congrats right back to them. 10 miles...what an accomplishment!<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">As we drove home, I felt calm.</span></span> I wasn't celebrating the way I thought I would be. I still have a long way to go, and five weeks to catch up to the team's mileage. I am increasing my mileage by 2 per week. As the team gets higher in mileage, they will be alternating the high-mileage weeks with lower mileage weeks. So they will run 12 miles next week, then 6 miles the following week, 14 miles the next week, 6 miles the following week. This will make it possible for me to catch up!<br /><br />I learned that my mind is a powerful tool in my training. I can use it to help or hinder me. Strong mind, strong muscles, strong life.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0); font-weight: bold;">If I have obstacles...I WILL RUN!</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0); font-weight: bold;">If I have doubt...I WILL RUN!</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0); font-weight: bold;">If I am tired...I WILL RUN!</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0); font-weight: bold;">How else will I know what I am really made of? </span>JAMIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11710952743697911405noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2129369134508687943.post-44486259398310804892008-07-11T12:35:00.000-07:002010-04-30T13:51:22.655-07:00Three Doctors, Two legs, and One Determination<span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0); font-style: italic;">Three weeks ago, I saw my doctor for my ankle injury in hopes that she would refer me to an amazing, all knowing specialist. A specialist who would tape me up, slap me on the butt and send me running again. It didn't quite work out that way...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">Doctor #1</span><br />We will call her the GP for General Practitioner. She was able to see me almost right away for my ankle. In her office, she took a quick glance at my ankle after I told her of my goal to run this marathon. Without even touching it, she said I needed to see a specialist. 'Yes!' I thought. This is what I was hoping for! Referral in hand, I called the specialist to make an appointment.<br />"The earliest available appointment we have is July 7th", the receptionist said.<br />"That's three weeks from now!" I said.<br />"This is the earliest appointment we have".<br />"Ok, I will wait," I said. "He must be good if he is booked this far in advance."<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0); font-style: italic;">Boy was I wrong!!!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">Doctor #2</span><br />We will call him Dr. Negativity. He came in the office for my long anticipated appointment and didn't even look me in the eyes, much less the face. Staring at his clipboard, he asked what the problem was.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">Me:</span> I am training for a marathon and I hurt my ankle. I think it's because of my previous knee injury<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">Dr. Negativity:</span> (with a nice layer of cynicism) You have a knee injury and you're running a marathon?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">Me:</span> Yeah, I'm running a marathon<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"><strong>Dr. Negativity:</strong></span> Were you a runner before this?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">Me:</span> No<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">Dr. Negativity:</span> (laying it on thicker) But you're running a marathon.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">Me: </span>Yeah, Dude. I'm running a marathon!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">Dr. N proceeds to fondle my ankle like it's a fish he has extreme distaste for.</span> He asked a few times if what he was doing hurt. It didn't. He let go of my foot and started writing.<br /><br />"You have an over-use injury, take Aleve and stay off it for two more weeks. After that you can run one mile, increasing it by 25% each week". When I asked about exercises I could do he said, (and I'm not exaggerating) "Do whatever doesn't hurt your ankle".<br /><br />You need a degree for this? Discouraged, I walked out the door.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">My trainer recommended this specialist, <a href="http://www.orthopropt.com/">Jeff Waldberg</a>.</span> He said that this guy has performed miracles with other Team In Training participants. After researching him, I decided that he was worth the expense (my insurance won't cover it) and I set up an appointment. I was able to get in to see him within two days!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">Doctor #3</span><br />He goes by Jeff and he is awesome! I came in, he listened to me and looked me in the eye. He felt my ankle and almost immediately found the tender spot in my joint. He videotaped me while I ran on the treadmill so we could analyze my running technique. After he filmed it, he put in his computer so we could measure the angles of my joints as I ran. Turns out, I was way to high on my toes when I landed. This was most likely the cause of my injury. He showed me a new technique and I ran on the treadmill again. It was completely comfortable. I felt like I could run all day! He then taped my foot and told me to get back to running. "We're not out of the woods yet," he said, "But let's try to get you past the three mile mark."<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">I nearly cried. I felt so elated and full of hope! </span>If I had taken Dr. Negativity's advice, I would have been up to 8 miles by the day of the marathon. I could have kissed Jeff.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">For the first time in almost a month, I am going to run with my team on Saturday! </span>They are doing a ten-mile run, so I will go as long as I can and see how I feel.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">Thank God I didn't give up. There's hope for me yet!!!</span></span>JAMIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11710952743697911405noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2129369134508687943.post-16138307483048055642008-06-30T11:41:00.001-07:002008-06-30T13:06:59.178-07:00Random thoughts while riding the bike<span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">I have been staring at the same poster on the wall every time I come here. The girl in the picture has this blank look on her face, she isn't sweating at all and her hair and make up are perfect. If I were to look in the mirror right now, I would see a girl with messy hair, a red sweaty face, and a determined look in her eyes. I want to see that in a poster.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"><br />My ankle injury</span></span> has had me confined to training on the exercise bike at the gym for the past couple of weeks. My ankle is feeling better, but I am not running on it until I see the sports medicine doctor on July 7th. He is also an orthopedic surgeon, so this was the earliest he could see me. I am anxiously awaiting this date.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">In the meantime, pedal pedal pedal!</span></span> While Brian goes off to the beautiful green park to train with our team, I go to the sweaty, crowded gym...by myself. I stare at one point on the wall and pedal my ass off in hopes of building strong legs that will carry me through the long runs to come. Motivation has been a struggle for me, but I am pushing through it.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">I would like to take this time to share with you the random thoughts I have while riding the bike:</span></span><br /><br />"Why do people <span style="font-weight: bold;">bathe</span> in cologne or perfume before exercising? I would much rather smell b.o. than feel like I am working out in the perfume department at Macy's."<br /><br />"I am grateful that I can still exercise, even if it isn't running."<br /><br />"If I just look straight ahead and don't make eye contact, this <span style="font-style: italic;">creepy, hairy guy</span> sitting on the bike backwards next to me won't talk to me."<br /><br />"Soon, I will laugh about all the training I did on this bike. I will look back on it with fondness and a sense of satisfaction that I kept training even when I couldn't run"<br /><br />Back on the bike tonight. <a href="http://pages.teamintraining.org/los/nikesf08/bmoniz">Brian</a> will be joining me to give his joints a little break. I am actually looking forward to tonight's training :-)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">Thanks to all of you for your comments, thoughts and support. It is keeping me going and making me stronger.</span></span>JAMIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11710952743697911405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2129369134508687943.post-23974962985540913622008-06-29T12:32:00.000-07:002008-07-01T00:05:24.572-07:00A bit of a break to stop and smell the wineMy Team In Training Fund Raising Page: <a href="http://pages.teamintraining.org/los/nikesf08/jmoniz">Make a difference here</a><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;">Brian and I took a little time off from training</span> and went to the central coast last weekend to celebrate our 2-year anniversary. We did a little wine tasting, a little soaking in the natural hot springs and a lot of chillin' at the beach.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">We stayed at this great little motel on a hilltop</span> the first night. It was a little hillbilly, but a lot of fun! I was briefly reminded of that movie "Vacancy", but I didn't let that stop me from enjoying the beautiful view and great conversation with my husband. The second night, we went to one of our favorite spots in the town where we got married, Avila Beach. Sycamore Springs Resort has private hot tubs on the balcony of every room. We soaked in the natural hot springs that poured right into our hot tub. It felt great after all we have been putting our bodies through.<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;"><br />The days were filled with playing on the beach and wine tasting.</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNlaGr14VLpCS1X4zYR5jYbD9XcCRgFHZCEFD9hyrST56voNdTdoPCDM_xB1yqy08fegD5BIh8PBiQgDOA3Nl_6PKmzZhUT2q8uYrfX8Ukt01FfWsYms_dEu2iWy2dbBTmL01WY75Idt8/s1600-h/pismo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNlaGr14VLpCS1X4zYR5jYbD9XcCRgFHZCEFD9hyrST56voNdTdoPCDM_xB1yqy08fegD5BIh8PBiQgDOA3Nl_6PKmzZhUT2q8uYrfX8Ukt01FfWsYms_dEu2iWy2dbBTmL01WY75Idt8/s320/pismo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217936133873539282" border="0" /></a><br />I sunbathed on the sandstone rocks as the water splashed up. Brian went exploring in the little beach caves nearby. He helped some little boys find crabs in the rocks (they found a pretty big one!) We did a little shopping too. I got what I like to call, "my beach bum dress" at a little shop on the beach. Brian's search for flip flops yielded no results. We bought a couple of bottles of wine and enjoyed the sunsets.<br /><br />On the last night, we camped on a beach about 20 minutes from civilization. We barbecued a delicious meal and lit a fire in our little fire pit. We have a pretty funny story from that night that I can't share here, but ask Brian. He tells it the best ;-) The next morning, we woke to some very hungry yellow jackets swarming around the campsite. <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">They actually stole our breakfast from us!</span> We left the campsite hungry, but happy that we survived.<br /><br />We took about a week off from training, and went back to it on Wednesday. Brian went to run and I went to the gym. <span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;">It felt good to get back</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;">This weekend, Brian's parents came into town</span> to celebrate our anniversary with us. It was such a treat to have them there. They took us to a Moroccan restaurant for dinner. It was fun! We ate with our hands and enjoyed unique food. There was a belly dancer for entertainment. She was able to make her hips vibrate!<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;">On Saturday, Brian and I got up at 5:30 am to train.</span> I went to do the bike and he went to meet the team. When I came back from the gym, Brian's parents and I went to the team's training location to greet Brian as he finished his run. This was a big day for the team because we changed our location and everyone was doing a 6-mile trail run. <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSHJuZs06wNU83KqLAUWavofq0x-bpI5P4hb4nbHCbZ4wJdbPaVuQp0GB7hnftpx-CsCxxVGBJPgRRFlvt6QSrImslItVLYDEDpX1mcT7cAnk_qZ4poZChfls6kX4bhQrVDxomgvp8_4M/s1600-h/L&R+cropped.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSHJuZs06wNU83KqLAUWavofq0x-bpI5P4hb4nbHCbZ4wJdbPaVuQp0GB7hnftpx-CsCxxVGBJPgRRFlvt6QSrImslItVLYDEDpX1mcT7cAnk_qZ4poZChfls6kX4bhQrVDxomgvp8_4M/s320/L&R+cropped.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217936441828508466" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">What a great day to have Brian's parents there!</span> They got to meet everyone and see Brian run in, victorious. I wore my jersey and clapped for everyone as they came in from the run. It was great to see everyone. I had been away for a couple of weeks.<br /><br />Next Saturday, they are doing an 8-mile run. I hope I am not falling too far behind. Every time they up the mileage, I feel a little worried that I may not catch up. <span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;">One thing is certain, I am determined to run this marathon!<br /></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Remember, there is only one more month until the donation deadline. Please make your donations before August 1st! <a href="http://pages.teamintraining.org/los/nikesf08/jmoniz">Donate here</a></span>JAMIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11710952743697911405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2129369134508687943.post-90303185141216596742008-06-09T23:51:00.000-07:002008-06-10T00:20:11.360-07:00"If You Are In Pain, Stop Running..."These were my trainer, Brett's, words to me on Wednesday evening as we did our third mid-week group run. My ankle was hurting so bad, I was limping as I ran. Brett suggested that I run for 1 minute, walk for 3.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0); font-weight: bold;">"You can't be serious,"</span><br />I thought. I slowed to a fast walk. Brett and I discussed the pain I was feeling in my ankle as <span style="font-style: italic;">everyone</span> passed us. He said there is a difference between soreness and pain. "If you are in pain, stop running," he said. "It is still very early in the training process and you could injure yourself if you push it".<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">I turned and looked behind us.</span><br />"There's nobody behind us Brett," I said. I definitely wasn't the fastest one on the team, but LAST?" <span style="font-weight: bold;">I felt like my mind was one entity and my body, another.</span> I wanted to run and catch up to Brian so desperately. Every time I started to run, however, my ankle seemed to be defying my brain's command. Brett was very supportive, but firm. I didn't like it, but deep down I knew he was right.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">My minute was up and I slowed to a walk again.</span><br />I thought 3 minutes was long when I ran it. It is even longer when I was forced to walk it. I walked for quite a while by myself. Brett had to check on the other team-mates. I'd like to say it was peaceful and enjoyable, but I was just concentrating on keeping the tears at bay. <span style="font-weight: bold;">"I can't cry two Wednesdays in a row," </span>I thought.<br /><br />On the last stretch of the run, our other trainer, Cole found me bringing up the rear. He was great at keeping my spirits up. He shared some similar "war stories" with me about his trials during training in the past.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">As we turned the corner, I saw <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian</a> running toward me. </span><br />After he finished his run, he came back to be with me as I finished mine. It was so great to see his face. We walked together and talked about getting different shoes to help with the pain, and seeing a doctor. I was willing to try anything.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">We went to see <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian's</a> family over the weekend.</span> It was a lot of fun. He went on a Saturday morning run while I stayed in and worked out on the stationary bike. It felt good to get my heart rate up! I don't want to lose the endurance that I've built up. On Sunday, I was limping again.<br /><br />I began a daily regimen of ice and stretching. My ankle has been a little swollen and walking has become painful. I made an appointment to see a doctor for the following Tuesday (tomorrow). <span style="font-weight: bold;">For the first time ever, I am excited to go to the doctor. </span>As soon as I know what's wrong, I can start taking steps to fix it. All I want to do is run!!!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">I suppose running a marathon is a good lesson in patience.</span>JAMIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11710952743697911405noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2129369134508687943.post-24655722969641640212008-06-09T12:34:00.000-07:002008-06-09T23:49:16.790-07:00Overcoming Obstacles<span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);font-size:180%;" >Week 2 of training</span><br />brought obstacles and challenges which were anticipated, but not this early on.<br /><br />Wednesday evening, we had our group run. I was still pretty sore from Saturday, but feeling optimistic. As we pulled up to the park, I realized I forgot my running watch. This is an essential part of my training because I am doing the run / walk method (run for 3 min, walk for 1 min). <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian</a> loaned me his watch because he is used to running, so he runs for 8 min, walks for 1 min. He has less stops. We got there and everyone was ready to go (we were a little late because we were coming from work). Here is a recap of the events that followed:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Brian:</span> (To the group) "Does anyone here run for 8 minutes, walk for 1? I need to pace with someone who has a watch"<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Totally Hot Blond with amazing body:</span> "I do"<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Our Trainer, Cole: </span>(To Brian) "What about your girlfriend?"<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>(Two inches tall) "I'm his wife."<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;">My husband, my bruised ego and I started running...</span></span><br /><a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian</a> normally runs with me for the first 3 minutes and then takes off when I do my first walk break. One minute into the run, my right calf cramps up. My right leg is not as strong as my left since my knee surgeries. In all the commotion, we forgot to stretch before running - BIG MISTAKE. I started limping, my outer self matching my inner wounded self. <span style="font-weight: bold;">This is where my first tears were shed during training.</span> I was so angry that I couldn't go faster, run harder, do better. I told <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian</a> to go ahead without me, but he wouldn't leave my side. He stayed with me for the entire three miles. At the end of the run, my right ankle was pretty sore. I may not be the fastest yet, but I have the best husband.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPGowLkcQCmsPL4ZJx_6FXO950NApryagKYx4G2mmmz0A6nHUGXLSU4A3WWbDNF6RLAPi0ONI5NDK_KHQiTTysrifIVYEajF5CaZFb04z0FGF71VaAhycp1tSIuMICmVZQUwfsfg5D4Ac/s1600-h/BJ+TNT.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPGowLkcQCmsPL4ZJx_6FXO950NApryagKYx4G2mmmz0A6nHUGXLSU4A3WWbDNF6RLAPi0ONI5NDK_KHQiTTysrifIVYEajF5CaZFb04z0FGF71VaAhycp1tSIuMICmVZQUwfsfg5D4Ac/s320/BJ+TNT.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210140039855831810" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">On Saturday</span></span><br />We had our 7 AM group run. Today, Brett (our trainer) was going to time our mile and see how fast we run. We ran a mile to warm up and then ran our "timed mile". My ankle was still pretty sore from Wednesday. I ran through the pain and <span style="font-weight: bold;">came in at 9 minutes 58 seconds</span> for my timed mile. <a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian</a> smoked almost everyone with a time of 7:13.<br /><br />We experienced our first group of Team In Training supporters on our run. There was the most adorable family next to our trail, about mid-way down, with a table full of snacks and little dixie cups filled with Gatorade. There was a young toddler clapping her hands and cheering with her parents as we ran by. She was precious! It definitely gave me fuel to keep going.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">At the end of the day, </span></span><br />I was hobbling but happy. We did some stretching and went to breakfast. I am enjoying the unity of the team. It will surely come in handy when we get further down the road.<br /><br /><a href="http://mindstunt.blogspot.com/">Brian</a> and I are making nap time an essential part of our Saturday afternoons.JAMIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11710952743697911405noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2129369134508687943.post-7992810314104808472008-06-02T17:52:00.000-07:002010-04-30T15:06:58.939-07:00FIRST WEEK OF TRAINING<span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" > Our first week of training officially started on May 24th at 7 AM. </span><br /><br />That's right, Brian and I dragged ourselves out of bed at<span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"> </span><span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);">6 AM on a Saturday</span><span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 204);"> </span>to go run in the rain!<br /><br />Earlier that week, I began training on my own at the local park (North Hollywood park). One lap around the park is equal to one mile. I ran two laps each time. Here is a breakdown of the days:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">Day</span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"> one - Sunday, May 18th:</span> Brian and I got up at 9 to run at the park. By the time we got there, it was SO HOT outside. We were sweating like crazy! I ran two laps using Brett's (our trainer) "run-walk" method. I was supposed to run for 3 minutes, walk for one, run for 3 minutes, walk for one. What I actually ended up doing was: run for 3 min, walk for 1, run for 3 min, walk for 2, run for 2 min, walk for 2, HUFF HUFF PUFF. I was cooked! I spent the rest of the day nursing a headache. Good lesson for hydration before running.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">Day two - Wednesday, May 21st:</span> I got up and ran in the morning before work. I had a MUCH better time of it. It was cooler outside because it was earlier. I was able to stick to the 3 min, 1 min method. I was winded, but feeling pretty good!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdrB9UlD7VtRhE3W9JlPUH2lij0_NO2DzTM-l2geYRFj3qWiGrxYsQLXjUJdioWb0UOHLI905so96iVIchTii1-WiQMVT8hCMvEmc4EgsEdD8nZRiV1j0ZHMNtTlG_ZpucR_8HAO8vjyY/s1600-h/first+day+training.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdrB9UlD7VtRhE3W9JlPUH2lij0_NO2DzTM-l2geYRFj3qWiGrxYsQLXjUJdioWb0UOHLI905so96iVIchTii1-WiQMVT8hCMvEmc4EgsEdD8nZRiV1j0ZHMNtTlG_ZpucR_8HAO8vjyY/s320/first+day+training.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207804458062379202" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">Day three - Thursday, May 22nd:</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"> </span>This is our cross-training day. I went to the gym and rode the exercise bike. It was good. I am learning that I would much rather exercise outside, though. I felt pretty strong!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">Day four - Saturday, Ma</span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">y 24th:</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"> </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">6 AM on a Saturday?!?</span> That's right. Brian and I got our asses out of bed and went to Balboa park in the rain for our first group training day. Brett taught us the proper way to run (on the toes rather than the heel). By the time we started to run, it stopped raining. We ran just over two miles. I felt great! I could tell my calves were taking a beating from this new running style. Running on your toes keeps your joints from hurting too much. This is the day I began walking like an old lady - hobble hobble.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUuhwteNsDTF8ngw0gS0w7zEh4W1U548s9-DnwnS-17iK6ITe_-vw5fI6tQsJHYH20hjJPKJ9MgBpEUGYZqfk_HkjIAW0V9hVydIhZ79LJvSiuCRAf5pSa-rXr8SyW2pETSbU8GJ9xN_M/s1600-h/jamie+and+brian+icing.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUuhwteNsDTF8ngw0gS0w7zEh4W1U548s9-DnwnS-17iK6ITe_-vw5fI6tQsJHYH20hjJPKJ9MgBpEUGYZqfk_HkjIAW0V9hVydIhZ79LJvSiuCRAf5pSa-rXr8SyW2pETSbU8GJ9xN_M/s320/jamie+and+brian+icing.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208129941960316034" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />(Above) Brian and I icing our legs after our first training day.<br /><br />Stay tuned for week 2!JAMIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11710952743697911405noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2129369134508687943.post-38120297100323172212008-05-21T15:11:00.000-07:002008-05-24T16:33:42.745-07:00May 17th Kick Off MeetingThe Team in Training kick off meeting on Saturday marked the official start date for me as a marathon runner! I wrote my info on the forms and signed my name, committing me to a fund raising goal and training program.<br /><br />We met the volunteers in our area (San Fernando). They were radiating with positive energy and warmth. We met our honorary team mate, Audrey. She has battling lymphoma since 2002, and she is running the half marathon this October. It was so inspirational to hear her speak. She has been through so much, but she hasn't let that slow her down. This will be her 20th event with Team In Training! I admire her and hope I can keep up with her on race day.<br /><br />We met our trainers, Brett and Cole. They have us training 3 days per week on our own with a weekly group run. We meet at 7am on Saturday to run 3 miles together. Three miles!!! I hope I don't embarrass myself! We all put our hands in the center (high school sports style) and yelled Go Team!<br /><br />I walked away with jersey and water bottle in hand thinking of the little engine that could. I think I can, I think I can, I think I can...JAMIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11710952743697911405noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2129369134508687943.post-49126413693881999472008-05-20T15:13:00.000-07:002008-05-20T20:33:07.343-07:00What am I thinking? I'll tell you...This all started when Brian asked me if I wanted to run a marathon with him. My first response consisted of each of these thoughts simultaneously:<br />1. Oh HELL NO!<br />2. That's impossible, I have a bad knee<br />3. Twenty what miles?!?<br />4. This boy MUST be crazy<br /><br />After he came back from his first meeting he was so pumped, so enthusiastic, so confident. I was intrigued by this. He told me that the marathon was going to be in San Francisco. He told me that other participants had never run a marathon before either. As I watched him beaming about this incredible journey he was about to embark on, I couldn't help but wonder - "Is it impossible? Why would I miss out on such a great opportunity to have a life changing experience with the love of my life?" The benefits completely outweighed any doubts or fears I had (still do have). I couldn't imagine sitting on the side lines while Brian ran by at what I am sure will be a very fast rate of sweaty, handsome speed.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_XzEt94_yBQW1JlGkrLbVq_mfsf_HbAAI_XyWTIjiU1fYMqtathjSwPMjfPCDMctf5UXH8QBGicIFmn-iXB208pEM4Gun8vErzcdwW1VqJhpfIfgz5zfG-M36UfaNY9vI9e-UC9ZvL4Y/s1600-h/knee.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202665717101027730" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_XzEt94_yBQW1JlGkrLbVq_mfsf_HbAAI_XyWTIjiU1fYMqtathjSwPMjfPCDMctf5UXH8QBGicIFmn-iXB208pEM4Gun8vErzcdwW1VqJhpfIfgz5zfG-M36UfaNY9vI9e-UC9ZvL4Y/s320/knee.jpg" border="0" /></a>I had two pretty major knee surgeries in highschool due to a broken femur, AKA - the longest, largest, strongest bone in the body. I fell through the springs of a trampoline and cracked it up the middle. For my first surgery, they put a large L - shaped plate and seven bolts on my bone to hold it together while I healed. This was a revolutionary procedure, because in the past a person with an injury like mine would have ended up in traction for three months (whew! that would have sucked). After a week in the hospital, I was sent home on crutches, and on crutches I stayed for the next three months. Two years later, I had a second surgery to have the hardware removed. Needless to say, my knee has never been the same. Nevertheless, I am determined to run this marathon. My knee injury seems to pale in comparison to what those battling cancer must be experiencing. I know I can do this! In the past, I have been insecure about the rather large scar on my leg. I will now be showing it off as I don my running shorts every training day. Boys like scars, right?<br /><br />My goal is to run side by side with my husband the whole 26 miles. I will keep the pace with him and we will cross that finish line together! My motivation to see his face as he finishes this marathon will be the driving force behind my speed and endurance.<br /><br />I love you Baby!JAMIEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11710952743697911405noreply@blogger.com2