Lifelong Runner

“It’s time to keep enjoying the best day in running history.” – Amby Burfoot, American Marathoner, referencing the Boston Marathon

Running the Boston Marathon is my proudest accomplishment.  I’d like to say there is an academic or professional success that rivals it, but I’d be lying if I did.

My journey to Boston began on October 7, 2012 with my participation in the Twin Cities Marathon.  When I ran a 3:43:18 that day, I looked up the qualifying times for Boston.  I discovered that I missed the qualifying standard for my age group but that the race was already filled for the following spring anyway.  It was some time after that when I learned more about the qualifying process and two very important details emerged:  1) the qualification window is nearly 20 months long and 2) the standard is based on your age when you run Boston and not when you run the qualifying time.  This is all very critical as the 3:43:18 I ran in 2012 at age 39 didn’t meet the guidelines for the 2013 race.  However, I would turn 40 in September of 2013 meaning I did beat the 3:45 needed to run in 2014 and my race time was still valid for that race.  The perks of getting older! Slower standards!

To say I was thrilled was an understatement.  I began reading everything I could find online about getting into Boston.  I learned that to improve my chances of getting into the race, I should try and be at least 5 minutes under the standard.  That was really hard to believe and I was a little disappointed to know my entrance wasn’t guaranteed.  I read more.  I started following Boston Marathon on social media.  I was obsessed.  It was at that point, I signed up for Grandma’s that summer to try and improve my time.  This was my best chance at Boston and I was all in.

Then, on Monday, April 15, 2013 I was getting ready for track practice.  I turned on the TV and learned that something had occurred at the finish line of the Boston Marathon.  I’m ashamed to admit the most selfish thoughts went through my mind.  At that moment, before I or anyone for that matter knew what had happened, I remember thinking this better not interfere with next year’s race.  Then the images flashed across the screen, images that should have never been shown on television.  I was stunned and my heart broke for the victims.  I had to pull myself away from the TV to get to practice on time.

With the rest of the country, I was glued to the news coverage the following days and weeks.  Terrorists had targeted Boston and the running community on Patriots Day.  Outrage over the bombings turned into resolve to take back the marathon and everything it and the city stood for. “Boston Strong” became the mantra.  The already prestigious and hard-to-get-into race would become even more so for 2014.  Everyone wanted to run it, especially the thousands of runners who were unable to finish after the bombings occurred.  If I stood a chance, I really needed to have a good race at Grandma’s.  I really needed a better time.

Well, that didn’t happen.  In fact, I ran several minutes slower.  I would need to rely upon the 3:43:18.  I would need to hope and pray it would be good enough.

The registration process began on September 9, 2013.  The first week of registration was only for runners who had beat their qualifying times by upwards of 5 minutes or more.  If the race wasn’t filled after the first week, they’d open it to those of us closer to our standards on September 16, 2013.  I debated not even entering.  I really did consider it.  I figured I had little to no shot, so why set myself up for disappointed.  I shudder at that thought right now.  Needless to say, I submitted my entry.  I completed the online process and then drove to North Oaks to go for a run with my sister-in-law, Joelle.  That day would become significant for another reason as well.  During our run, I took the most major digger I have ever taken.  I skinned up my entire left leg.  It was awful.  But that’s for another post, or maybe not.

September 25, 2013 was one of the best days of my life.  It was the day I found out that I had gotten into Boston.  I had to sweat it out, though.  I knew I’d receive an email from the Boston Athletic Association (BAA) at some point during the day with my acceptance or denial notification. While I waited, I started reading posts on social media from people who had found out their results.  To narrow the field down to an acceptable number of runners, the BAA determined that everyone who had beat their standard by 1 minute and 38 seconds or more was in.  Everyone else was out.  My mind started racing.  I couldn’t do the math fast enough.  I just couldn’t do the math at all.  Finally, I determined I had beat the standard by 1 minute and 42 seconds.  I was in!  Or was I out?  Had I beat it by 4 seconds or missed it by 4 seconds.  I could not calm down enough to figure it out, so I called Dan who helped me with the math.  He confirmed I had indeed met the cut-off.  I still wasn’t going to believe it until I had my confirmation email.  By the time I had hung up the phone with Dan, the email was in my inbox.  I stood at the top of the steps in our house and cried tears of sheer joy.  I had just been accepted into Boston Marathon 2014.

Turning 40 two days later was such a breeze.  I didn’t care about that number.  The only number that meant anything at that point was the one that had gotten me into the marathon.  All else was unimportant!

Training got underway on December 30, 2013.  On February 25, 2014, I was diagnosed with a stress fracture in my left foot and was told to stop running.  That afternoon, I called my mom just sobbing, afraid my dream was coming to an abrupt end.  I was supposed to be wearing a boot and not running for 6 weeks.  No matter how much I told the doctor that my foot didn’t hurt in the location of the stress fracture (I had gone in for pain I was experiencing in a different part of my foot), he kept repeating that he was “sidelining” me as if he was my coach.  I pleaded with him to help me find a way to make this happen, as you couldn’t defer your Boston acceptance as he suggested I do.  He maintained that if I continued to run, it would get worse and I’d be in a cast before I knew it.

Well, you don’t tell me, or any runner for that matter, to just give up when Boston is on the line.  I did my own research and found these new anti-gravity treadmills that allowed you to run while decreasing your body weight up to 80%.  Just my luck, there was one at a rehab facility in Maple Grove.  So, after taking off a couple of weeks and just using the stationary bike, I made an appointment to try this treadmill.  I was able to run a few times a week without pain on the Alter G and was thrilled to get my training back on track.  I was behind schedule, but I came up with  plan that would have me on the starting line in Boston on April 21st.  I have a lot of people to thank for helping me through this setback, none of whom was my doctor.  I still get angry when I think about the way he handled my case.  While it was maybe what he had to tell me for liability reasons, it just seemed so cold and unsympathetic.  I often wondered if I had been a hockey player, his sport of choice, if he would have been more inclined to help me.  Lesson learned, and you have to be your own advocate and not settle if you feel you’re not getting adequate information.

Because it was winter and because I didn’t want to risk injuring myself further, I did a lot of training indoors on my own treadmill once I was back to regular running.  In fact, due to a snowstorm, I did my 20 miler on the treadmill.  It was just plain awful, I will freely admit.  However, I did what I needed to do to get to that starting line on April 21st.

We departed for Boston on Friday, April 19th.  Dan and I flew east with his parents, while my parents set out by car and would join us by race day. The energy in the city was electric, and we stayed downtown right in the midst of it.  I had worked so hard to be there, and our whole family was ready to take in every minute of the experience.  The streets were filled with runners and spectators, with Bostonians and people from across the globe.  Everyone seemed excited, hopeful, proud, strong, and determined. The good citizens of Boston had already taken back their city.  They were ready to take back their marathon, too, and we were honored to be a part of it.

The weekend was spent in low-key preparation.  Eating properly, attending the Expo, picking up my race packet, shopping, trying not to buy every “Boston Marathon” product I found.  On Saturday, we made our way down to the finish line.  I cannot put into words how emotional that experience was.  Here was the spot that I had spent over a year imagining myself at.  When I stood there at that moment, the streets line with daffodils and signs in remembrance of the bombing victims, I shed tears of sheer sadness.  My heart broke for all those affected by that cowardly act of violence.  Standing at the finish line in that moment was in no way about me.  It was only about them.  I would do my best to honor them by putting forth my best effort on Patriots Day.

Sunday was Easter.  We found the only (and I’m not kidding) Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod in Boston.  It was a beautiful church, filled with, well lots of people from the Midwest!  After the service, the pastor had all the visitors introduce themselves and announce where they were from.  It was a great morning and we were so happy to be able to celebrate Easter. We ate a quick lunch at Pret A Manger, when our first choice of restaurant was too busy, and then an early dinner at Stephanie’s on Newbury.  Then, it was time to try and get some sleep.  Monday was Patriots Day.  Monday was The Boston Marathon.

I woke up on time, feeling well, and ready to go on Monday.  After getting dressed in my race outfit, I read all the well wishes from my supporters on Facebook.  I also read President Obama’s remarks and comments from local officials.  Overcome with emotion yet again, I knew I needed to focus on the job at hand and try to keep everything else in check.  So, phone turned off, it was time to get to the starting line.  We were close enough to where the busses picked up the runners to transport them to Hopkinton, so Dan and I ran there.  Yes, I ran a mile to get to the bus to run a marathon.  I found the loading zone, hopped on a bus, took a seat, and tried to relax.  I tried to just enjoy each moment and take it all in.  The runner seated next to me had been at the race in 2013.  She told me her story.  I sat and listened in awe.  She was kind enough to offer for me to hang out with her group at the runner’s village when we arrived at Hopkinton.  It was nice to focus on something other than the 26.2 miles that were ahead.

Once my corral was announced, we walked from the runner’s village to the starting line.  It had to be close to a mile.  Yes, I had already gotten in 2 miles before the race even started.  To say I was warmed up was an understatement.

The starting line was something to see.  The Boston police, Massachusetts state police, FBI, and Homeland Security were all there.  They were stationed along the starting line.  They were on top of buildings. Hopkinton, MA was likely the safest place in the world at that moment. Again, it was time to check the emotions and focus.  This was it!

I wish I could describe the race for you in as much detail as I did the journey getting there.  However, the race was quite challenging for me and I don’t recall all of it.  It was fairly warm that day.  I hadn’t been able to train as properly as I wanted to.  Those were just excuses though, and don’t really deserve any mention.  In the end, I had achieved what I set out to do.  I had qualified for and made it to the starting line of the race- something that was not guaranteed and almost lost at several different points.  I do remember trying my hardest to hold back on my pace as the hills were in the second half of the race.  I do remember the Wellesley girls giving kisses to runners.  I do remember the water stops, as the hydration was much needed that day and what kept me moving forward.  I do remember the streets being lined with countless police officers as we made our way from town-to-town en route to Boston.  I do remember willing myself to stay positive and to not worry about time.  I do remember thinking about my family at the finish line and praying for their safety.  I do remember not being able to pick up my pace, even after the hills had ended.

I will never forget finally getting to Boston.  I will never forget making the final turns to Boylston Street.  I will never forget seeing that finish line, this time as a runner.  I will never forget the emotion that overcame me and to which I finally gave in to.  Almost hyperventilating, I made it across the finish line with a slight pump of the fists.  I finished.  4:01:25. My slowest marathon time, but I didn’t care.  That number didn’t matter. I was officially a Boston Marathoner.

My workout wasn’t done quite yet, though.  I had to weave through the streets to the family meeting area to find Dan, my Mom and Dad, and Jim and Marianne.  I think it was less than a mile, but it felt much farther as I was so excited to be reunited with my family.  I made it to the Hs first. The intense security didn’t make it easy for them to get anywhere near the finish area.  I remember spotting them in the crowd and watched as they got closer and closer to me.  I needed them by my side, the people that helped me get to that moment.  It was at that point that I learned they had stood in the same spot for more than 4 hours to watch me finish. Apparently, the security procedures didn’t allow for a lot of roaming around.  It seems we all had stories to share about our day.

What a joy it was to celebrate my achievement with my family.  And celebrate we did.  At dinner that night, we ate.  And drank.  We exchanged stories from the day.  My runner’s high was at an all time record.  I didn’t want the moment to end.  Eventually, my stiff legs did need to move, though!  We retreated back to the hotel where there was maybe another celebratory drink or two.  Then, it was off to bed.

We went on to spend the next couple of days celebrating more and touring Boston.  We walked the Freedom Trail, visited Faneuil Hall Marketplace, made it over to Boston’s Little Italy, and ended the best way possible, with a trip to Cheers.

As noted in the beginning, running Boston Marathon is my highest and proudest achievement.  Being there in 2014 made it all that more emotional.  Boston is a special city with amazing people and a marathon tradition beyond compare.

Boston Strong.  Forever.

“A teacher is never too smart to learn from his pupils.” – Bill Bowerman, American Track and Field Coach and Nike Co-Founder

In 2012, while taking a hiatus from my career in Human Resources, I did something bold.  I came across a job posting on RaceberryJam.com for a Middle School Track and Field Coach at Providence Academy in Plymouth. After reading over the posting, I was highly interested in submitting my resume for consideration.  I was full of self doubt, however.  Would they consider a non-educator for a coaching role?  Would a private Catholic school hire a Lutheran?  Would I have the first clue about working with kids, specifically middle schoolers?  How would I handle sprint and field events, about which I knew next to nothing?  In retrospect, these all seem like silly concerns but at the time, they were real.  I finally determined I had nothing to lose so I emailed my resume to the head coach.  Initially, I didn’t hear anything so I sent a follow up email to see if I was still in consideration for the role, or if they had filled it with someone else.  To my surprise, I received almost an immediate response and was shortly thereafter asked to interview with the Athletic Director.  Even as I was sitting in my car in the parking lot at Providence before the interview, I considered backing out.  This is a bad idea, I thought to myself.  They will never hire me, so why put myself in a position to be turned down.  Well, needless to say, I interviewed and was offered the position!  I was so thrilled!

The spring of 2012 was the first time they offered track and field for middle schoolers at Providence Academy.  They hired 3 coaches and had about 25 kids sign up to participate.  At first, I thought that many coaches seemed excessive, but I quickly learned how much each of us was needed to make it a rewarding and educational experience for the kids.  The other two coaches were also runners, one being a seasoned marathoner and triathlete and the other a student teacher at a nearby school who also was a successful road racer.  What we might have lacked in coaching experience, we made up for in enthusiasm.  Once a week, we coaches dressed up in some silly theme.  We brought treats for the kids to every meet.  We’d make sure at least one workout each week was a game, such as a scavenger hunt or rainbow run, complete with prizes for the winning teams.  Many practices would end at a nearby park where play time was rewarded after the scheduled workout.  And when the school told us we couldn’t have a banquet at the end of the season (as no middle school sports were allowed this), we did our own celebration potluck style at the park.  I’m not sure who had more fun throughout the season, the kids or the coaches!

All of the fears we coaches had about our inexperience quickly vanished when we discovered these kids just needed to learn about track and field. Some of them had no idea what all the sport entailed, what the different events were, what the distance of the track was, which way to run around the track, or what the different pieces of equipment were called.  But they were unafraid to try new things and I was so impressed.  If we announced we needed someone to run the mile, there was always a volunteer.  Each meet without fail, we’d have kids signed up for too many events and they were so disappointed when we told them they needed to give up something.  One of the smallest girls on the team came up to me before one meet and said she wanted to do the event with the really heavy ball. We put her in the shot put!  It was so great to watch them try and to take pride in their accomplishments.  

Being a coach for that 2012 season of middle school track was one of the best jobs I have ever had, though it’s hard to even call something so enjoyable work.  So when I was asked to be an assistant coach for cross country in the fall, I quickly said yes.  Accepting this role afforded me the opportunity to work with Rick Kleyman, a MN coaching legend.  He has been running for 61 years and coaching for 49 years.  I learned so much under Coach Kleyman:  how far the young kids should run, how to handle injuries, the art of pacing and racing, and perhaps most importantly, that it is okay to walk at scheduled intervals (as long as you walk fast).  He could recall statistics unlike anyone I’ve ever known and he would share story after story about racing with coaches and kids.

One of the unique traditions at Providence Academy was the Homecoming Run.  The cross country team would relay the football from the visiting team’s school to Providence, arriving just in time for the pre-game ceremonies.  I had the privilege of organizing it one year, which was no small task.  It required a lot of parent involvement, as they drove the kids to and from their relay legs.  It was also critical to get the timing correct so the seniors could run the ball onto the field and not hold up the festivities.  I thought it was a wonderful way to incorporate cross country into Homecoming and make it more than just about football.

In all, I coached 3 seasons of track and 2 seasons of cross country at Providence Academy.  In that time, I also obtained my MN State High School League Coaches Certification.  I learned so much about running and coaching from my colleagues.  I met so many talented, bright, and thoughtful kids and their supportive, devoted parents.  I was able to watch a couple of our athletes compete at the state level in both cross country and track.

The most important things I learned, though, came from the kids themselves.  Sure, they taught me all the latest and hippest phrases and sayings.  Sure, I learned that I actually did have things that I could teach them.  But above all else, they reminded me to have a goal and then stop at nothing to achieve it.  Providence Academy is a challenging and rigorous school.  It wasn’t unusual for kids to be playing in multiple sports during the same season, singing in the choir or playing in the band, participating in some academic league, all while managing their intense homework load.  No matter all the demands placed on them, they set goals and worked towards them.  They did their best in everything.  Everyday.  I was in awe of them and their determination.  Sure, I might have imparted a few tidbits of wisdom or provided some inspiration to them.  But I’m the one who walked away a winner.

I realize that I am extremely lucky to have had such a rewarding and enjoyable experience as a coach.  I am very grateful to the head coaches, athletic director, the kids, and the parents for making it the best “job” I’ve ever had.  Providence Academy is a fantastic school with wonderful staff and even more amazing young people.  The Lions will always have a special place in my heart!

 

“The love of family and the admiration of friends is much more important than wealth and privilege.” – Charles Kuralt

Like many things in life, running is not something you can do without a lot of support.  I was going to title this entry “The Spectators”, but as I was outlining my thoughts on it, I realized that was too narrow of a label. The individuals in my life who come out to watch me run do so much more than merely spectate.  They are my support system.  They are who I call upon to talk about the races I sign up for, the ones I discuss my workouts with, and sometimes the ones who I call in tears when I get injured.  They are the ones with whom I celebrate the successes and the ones I rely upon for comfort after the failures.

My first, sometimes my only, and definitely my most devoted supporters are my parents, Lyle and Eileen Wandrey.  I owe them so much.  They have supported me wholeheartedly since I first started running.  I’m not sure they ever missed a single meet, cross country or track, all throughout my high school career.  They have endured some of Minnesota’s most miserable weather to watch their daughter run.  Whether it was snow, wind, or rain, they were always there.  And trust me, in the early days, they sometimes had to wait quite awhile for me to finish!  They even signed up to officiate at track meets, which is not easy work.  And after every race, they were there to tell me good job.  No matter how I finished and no matter how upset I might have been with myself, my parents congratulated me on running and finishing the race.  I cannot recall a time when they ever uttered a single negative word.

When I was running for St. Olaf, they followed the team everywhere they could to watch us compete.  All my teammates knew and loved Lyle and Eileen!  I think the only times they ever missed a competition was if the Ole men and women were running at separate meets.  In those instances, they had to alternate between watching Bryce and I.  Once again, I was so thankful for their continued support.  Their presence made me want to try harder.

As I entered the road racing world, my parents continued to make every effort to support me in person.  For those few events they couldn’t be at, they gave me strict instructions to get in touch with them shortly after finishing.  They always wanted to know, first and foremost, that I was okay.  Once that was established, I could provide them with my race summary and analysis!

Then there’s my husband, Dan.  I’m so blessed to have him in my life for so many reasons.  And, I’m so grateful that he’s embraced my running, and even become a runner himself!  I recall training for my first marathon while living in Rochester and doing a long run on the Douglas Trail.  I was heading towards home and I noticed this guy on a bicycle heading towards me.  As he got closer, I noticed that it was Dan who had thoughtfully come to check on me and keep me company for the remaining miles.  It wasn’t long after that when he decided to just start running races with me.  I was so thrilled that we had found something we could do together (since tennis didn’t really work out).  As I’ve trained for my last couple of marathons, I have relied heavily upon Dan to get me through the miles. On Saturday mornings, I would start out my long run alone and then meet Dan at a certain time.  He’d show up with hydration and then run the rest of the way with me.  It was such a mental boost to break up those long runs into two manageable distances.  Having Dan by my side made it more enjoyable, too.  He’s my training partner, my coach, my cheerleader, my rock.

Jim and Marianne Hedin, my father and mother-in law, are two more loyal supporters who I value immensely.  As previously mentioned in another post, Grandma’s marathon weekend is a big deal in Duluth and for the Hedin clan.  Between preparing for our arrival on Friday night and making it down to the lake to watch the 5K, they prepare a huge pasta meal for everyone.  Then, at the crack of dawn on Saturday morning, they wake up with the runners and transport us to the starting line.  They, too, have withstood some pretty awful weather to watch us run.  Running in inclement weather is one thing.  Spectating is a whole other thing!  But it doesn’t matter; they are always there.  And then after the race, it’s back to Hotel Hedin for a big bash to celebrate!  Jim and Marianne have also traveled down for the Twin Cities marathon.  They have ever so kindly endured the long wait between the 10 mile and marathon finishes to be there for me.  Last year, the TC marathon did not go well for me.  I am confident I would have dropped out of that race had I not known that Jim, Marianne, Dan, and my parents were at the finish line waiting for me. Their travel to St. Paul and their wait at the finish was not to be for nothing.

And then there’s this:  Two years ago, my parents drove from Elgin, MN to Boston, MA to watch me run in the Boston Marathon, the highlight of my running career to this day.  Dan, Jim, and Marianne flew with me.  Due to the heightened security (I ran the year after the marathon bombings), they stood in the same spot for 5 hours.  To get a spot along the finish line, they needed to get there early.  And due to the staggered start, I began almost an hour after the first wave.   One spot.  Five hours.  If that’s not dedication and love, then I don’t know what is.  Having those 5 people with me on that day is something I will cherish forever.  It was one of the most wonderful experiences of my life, and having them there to share it with me made it even more priceless.

I not sure where my running career would be, or if it would even exist, without these individuals.  They have all played a valuable role in making me who I am.  Their dedication, compassion, sincerity, and love brings a tear to my eye and puts a spring in my step.

Mom, Dad, Dan, Jim, and Marianne- I love you! And Thank You from the bottom of my heart!

“That’s the thing about running: your greatest runs are rarely measured by racing success.  They are moments in time when running allows you to see how wonderful your life is.” – Kara Goucher

 

I am not the only runner in my family.  Just the oldest; the one to blaze the trail.  My younger brother, Bryce, was a 7th grader when I was a sophomore.  To be honest, I don’t really remember what I thought when we ended up participating in the same sports.  It’s possible my parents remember it differently, but I don’t recall feeling threatened or bothered.  At least at first.  Whatever indifference I felt early on was quickly replaced by envy, and that I do remember!  Whereas I didn’t see much time on the varsity team until my senior year, Bryce made varsity cross country in the 8th grade and varsity track in the 9th grade.  He was good.  Really good. And me, I was jealous.  Making it worse was my perception that I worked harder, training more in the off season and on weekends.  Bryce always seemed to effortlessly earn a top spot on the team.  Perhaps an exaggeration, but I was a teenager after all and it was totally unfair!  As I matured and graduated high school, I came to respect my brother’s gift and did what I could to support his running career.  When he advanced to the State cross country meet, whatever envy I previously felt was replaced by pure joy and pride.  Throughout his high school career, he made it to the State cross country meet three times and competed once at the State track meet in the 3200m.  These were definitely proud moments for our family!

Bryce’s successful running career continued at St. Olaf as well.  Whereas I was a walk on (I still like saying that!), he was recruited which is how I initially learned about the college.  We were only in college together for one year, as I was a senior his freshman year.  There was definitely an interesting dynamic to being in the same sports with your younger brother, especially when the teams were so close and often ended up training together and participating in team functions together.  We had some mutual friends, which meant if either of us did anything wrong it was likely the other would find out!  Okay… so everyone knows that I mean if Bryce did something, I would find out!  All in all, I think part of what made me strive to be better was the success Bryce was enjoying.  I wanted some of that for myself….

Now, as adults, we enjoy an occasional run together along with our spouses.  In fact, just a couple of summers ago, all four of us competed in Plainview’s Corn on the Cob Days 5K and we all managed to place within our age groups (Bryce won his, of course)!  So as you can see, whatever resentment I felt early on is gone.  In its place is a common bond that we’ll share for life!

But the family running ties don’t end there.  When I met my husband, Dan, I was beyond thrilled to learn that there were runners in his family as well.  His sister, Joelle, and his aunt, Amy, are also experienced and successful runners.  My transition into the Hedin family was definitely aided by this shared passion.  To this day, most family weekends begin with a Saturday morning run, whether we’re in Duluth or Ely or any other destination!  As I mentioned earlier, Dan also decided to get in on the running fun as did Joelle’s husband, Jason.  We’ve participated in numerous races together, from 7ks to 10 milers to half marathons.  One of my favorite weekends of the year is Grandma’s Marathon weekend which includes a 5K, half marathon, and full marathon.  Our clan is usually well represented, with Dan’s brother, Curt, and his nephew, Jonathan, getting things started with the 5k on Friday night.  On Saturday morning, the half marathoners and sometimes even a marathoner take on the beautiful course along Lake Superior.  Once we reunite at the finish line in Canal Park, we retreat to the Hedins’ house to eat, drink, and share stories from our racing adventures!

Every so often, we elect to hold our own family events.  A couple of years ago, we put on our own Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving morning in Duluth. It was so very cold that morning as we gathered at Hawk Ridge.  But, we are a hearty group and everyone, including the kids and two dogs, showed up to either walk or run.  We even put together our own goody bags.  It was the real deal!

It is such a joy to be able to share something I love with the people I love. I think of all the great conversations that have been shared and the wonderful memories created during training runs and races.  They are such an invaluable part of my life and most certainly do make me realize how great my life is!

“Love yourself, for who and what you are; protect your dream and develop your talent to the fullest extent.” – Joan Benoit Samuelson

Life throws many things at you:  joy, challenge, heartbreak, disappointment, success.  Through it all, it’s important to remember who you are and in what you believe.  It’s helpful to have a passion and to embrace something fully.  It’s critical to use your God-given talents. Running remained that passion for me post-college and to this very day. It is my most treasured talent.

The transition to road racing was a natural one for me.  I consider myself blessed to live in a state with access to so many trails, racing options, and running enthusiasts.  Luckily, many of those enthusiasts are in my family and circle of friends.  As I was already learning, thanks to my college experience, the longer the race the more I enjoyed it.  And, the better I seemed to perform.  With a solid running foundation established, I began challenging myself with new goals.  I had progressed from 5Ks to 10Ks, and found myself seeking a new race distance.  Therefore, one spring, I teamed up with a friend to tackle the Med City Marathon as a 2-person relay.  It was my first of many half marathons to come.  I grew to love, appreciate, and respect the distance.  Then in 2002, I finally achieved what I considered to be the highest accomplishment for a runner.  I completed Grandma’s Marathon in Duluth.  I remember thinking I only needed to do one marathon, just to prove to myself that I could do it.  I could hold my head higher.  I could check it off my bucket list.  I could take pride in how far my running career had progressed.  That theory held up for awhile, but the marathon bug would return… with a vengeance.  More to come on that.

In order to continually challenge myself, I did try other things.  I invested in a bike, which I was eager to use for awhile.  However, I just didn’t get the same satisfaction from biking that I did from running.  Sadly, I only use my bike now when I must (in other words, when injury forces me to cross-train).  One summer, I purchased golf clubs, even going so far as to sign up for lessons.  I enjoyed golfing.  For awhile.  The rollerblades that I’m lucky didn’t cause me any permanent bodily damage are sitting in storage (along with the golf clubs).  I really did believe that tennis could be my thing, something I could enjoy with my husband, Dan.  We were at the athletic club one evening years ago when I excitedly announced to him that I wanted to learn tennis, then we could play together.  Never one to diminish any of my goals, he seemed agreeable.  I still laugh when I recall how he went straight to the activities desk at the club and signed me up for lessons.  Apparently, he didn’t think it would be the best arrangement for him to assume the coaching role.  I gave tennis a try and enjoyed it longer than any of my other athletic attempts.  I even played in a league for a summer.  My latest attempt was yoga.  I really wanted to build some core strength and with yoga studios on every block, why not try?  Well, let’s just say that didn’t last either.  Did you know balance is a key component of being successful at yoga?  I think my niece scored the yoga mat and is probably putting it to much better use.  In looking back, I did really enjoy golf and tennis.  I just came to the realization that unless you can devote time and energy to practicing those skills, you will not be successful even if you only intend to play leisurely.  Since I wasn’t going to give up running, that left little time to work on building new skills. After each attempt, I circled back to running.  Through the years, running was the one thing I didn’t leave behind.  My running shoes have never seen the inside of a storage unit.

My less than successful attempts at other endeavors actually made me crave running more.  That meant more half marathons, an occasional 10 mile, a couple of 7Ks.  Then there was the Hood to Coast Relay, which turned out to be one of the most challenging things I’ve done.  A 12-person relay team runs from Mount Hood to Seaside, Oregon.  The 195 mile course is broken up so that each person runs three legs, ranging in length from 3.5 miles to 8 miles.  It doesn’t sound too bad, until you factor in little to no sleep and no showering.  Did I mention that you live in a van when you’re not running?  So yes, very challenging, but definitely an experience of a lifetime!

Then, there were more half marathons, more 10 miles, every once in awhile a 5K (if I was pressured by others to join in!).  A destination run in AZ.  Another relay event, this time in MN with way less exciting scenery but it was also less difficult the second time around.  Then, in 2012, I made my return to the marathon, this time taking on the Twin Cities.  The Twin Cities Marathon is truly an amazing event.  There are very few spots along the 26.2 mile course that are not filled with spectators.  With a 10 year gap since my first marathon, I wasn’t sure what to expect of myself. I was by then a more experienced runner, yes, but also that much older!  I was thrilled to run 4 minutes faster and though I didn’t know it that day, a Boston Qualifying time!

The marathon is such a remarkable feat.  After enduring months and months of training, you show up at the starting line on race morning with so much invested and the highest of hopes.  Despite all the effort, your performance can be affected by so many things outside of your control.  Then, even on the best of days, it’s a long 26.2 miles before you get to that finish.  Someone once asked me what I thought about during the miles, on what did I focus?  Well, I work on maintaining a sustainable pace, reminding myself how long the race is.  I spend a fair amount of time trying to calculate my expected finish time.  I work too hard staying away from those runners who spit constantly, thereby adding extra distance for myself but avoiding being spat on.  Every time I approach the porta potties, I debate if I should stop and use them.  I read the spectators’ signs.  I anxiously look for the mile markers, even though my Garmin displays the distance I’ve covered.  When I spot the race photographers, I try not to grimace when they snap my picture.  I think about the joy I will experience when I near the finish line, and wonder on which side of the course I’ll find my loved ones.  I think about how good a beer is going to taste.  So as you can see, there are plenty of things to occupy the time!

In the years that followed Twin Cities, I would run 3 more marathons including Boston (that was such a special event that I intend to devote an entire post to it in the future).  Currently, recurring injuries have caused me to shift my focus back to shorter races, leaving the marathon behind at least for the moment.  It’s hard to not just push through the pain when the desire to run is so strong.  I have to continually remind myself I want to be a Lifelong Runner.  That requires discipline and hard choices.  But it’ll be worth it, that I know.

“The miracle isn’t that I finished.  The miracle is that I had the courage to start.” – John Bingham

I spent my first two years of college at Rochester Community College (RCC) and I lived at home, saving on both tuition and room and board!  I kept up my running, which was now a great stress release for this college student.  I’d take to the roads in and around Elgin, getting in my miles when I could.  These two years further developed my discipline, seeing that I was now running on my own and for just myself.  There was no team waiting for me to show up at 3:30pm for workouts.  After two years at RCC and graduating with my Associate of Arts, it was time to move on to another school where I could finish my Bachelor of Arts.  I had chosen a small college in Northfield, MN.  St. Olaf turned out to be a great choice for me, and I was delightfully surprised that I had been paired up with a wonderful roommate with whom I hit it off immediately.  It was my first time living away from home with my first ever roomie!  Around mid-afternoon on our first day together, she announced she was heading to cross country practice.  I was thrilled; I found someone who shared my love of running!  I asked her how she got on the team and if she was recruited.  This was Division III, she explained, and the St. Olaf women’s team had a history of accepting runners of all talents.  There were no cuts, she further stated, and if I was interested, I should join her.  So, I did.

After struggling to make it on my high school team, joining a collegiate team was something I never expected to happen.  But it did, and what an experience it turned out to be!  We were a team of 60 women, coming from all across MN and the US, with one shared passion.  I was lucky to be under the guidance of yet another accomplished and determined coach, Chris Daymont, who pushed her team day-in and day-out.  She wanted all of us to be successful, to improve, to develop healthy bodies, and to contribute to the team.

One of our meets was held at the University of MN golf course, where coincidentally, the MN State High School meet was held back then.  I can remember the joy I felt warming up for my race that day.  I was a junior in college competing in a Division III cross country race.  I was an Ole.  And, I was finally going to race on that course.  But something else momentous happened that day.  I recall about halfway through the race, Coach Daymont was shouting encouragement and advice to her runners from the sidelines.  She instructed me to catch up to a certain runner from another team.  In particular, she said “push yourself”.  So, I did.  I can remember digging down deep that day, exhausting myself more than I think I ever had.  I remember catching that girl.  And most importantly, I remember being really proud of that race and realizing I could do better.

I truly think that was a turning point in my running career.  A point at which I wanted to work harder, push myself more, and see what I might be able to accomplish.  I didn’t have to settle for what I had accepted as the limits of my abilities.  Something more was there…  And, so I worked harder.  I felt myself getting stronger.  I felt my hunger to improve intensifying.  I also noticed that I thrived more running these longer distances.  Before I knew it, I found myself in the middle of the St. Olaf women’s pack, and when that pack is 60 strong women, that isn’t so bad!

Cross county went so well that when track season rolled around, I went ahead and joined that team as well.  My first experience with indoor track was interesting.  In the dead of winter, we distance runners trained outside.  While Minnesota was setting records for the coldest temperatures ever, without the windchill, we were outside getting in our miles no matter how quickly our eyelashes froze and every extremity went numb.  Competing in the 5K on an indoor track wasn’t for the faint of heart.  Imagine running in small circles with people constantly darting in front of you to cross to the infield, other runners lapping you, and struggling to keep track of how many laps remained (each runner, especially in smaller meets, was responsible for counting their own laps). However, because I was getting used to these longer races, I felt I was being punished if I was asked to run anything shorter.  Therefore, I learned to endure the added challenges of indoor season and worked to keep my spot in the 5K.

Outdoor track was much better for many obvious reasons.  In addition to being outside on a larger track, there were additional events from which to select and I found one that suited me:  the 10K.  On a 400 meter track, this equated to 25 laps.  As you can imagine, there weren’t a lot of people raising their hand asking to compete in this event.  Because of this, the 10K became “my event” and I was overjoyed!

I can still hardly believe I competed in two sports for my college, and remain thankful to this day that I had the opportunity to do so.  A couple of moments highlighted my career at St. Olaf.  The first one actually had nothing to do with any performance of mine on the course.  In the fall of 1995, the women’s cross country team had won the Minnesota Intercollegiate Athletic Conference (MIAC) for the 3rd straight year.  Thrilled to be a part of the team, though I wasn’t one of the scored runners, I celebrated the accomplishment with my teammates.  Later that week, the campus newspaper gave the top sports headline to the football team for winning a game- just a single, regular season game.  While I didn’t want to diminish another team’s achievement, I was outraged that the coverage of the cross country team fell much farther down the page with a much smaller headline and far fewer words.  I wanted to correct this injustice!  I decided to write a Letter to the Editor, expressing the imbalance in their reporting and using the opportunity to draw attention to my teammates’ accomplishments, as this was obviously missing in the article.  Well, the letter was printed.  My teammates and coach were so pleased with what I had done, they gave me a special award during that season’s awards banquet.  I had no idea my little letter would garner so much attention, praise, and respect.  It was such a special moment to me! I was proud to stand up for my teammates and give them well-deserved acknowledgement for their title run.  It also further exemplified how I was able to find my role on the team, whether it was on the course or off.

Another highlight came during outdoor track season.  I qualified for the MIAC meet in the 10K based on standard alone!  I was so proud to get into the meet based only on my efforts.  The qualifying race was held at MaCalester College while Hamline hosted the MIAC.  These two tracks hold a very special place in my heart!

Cross country and track turned out to be my saving grace for my two years at St. Olaf.  Don’t misunderstand, though, I loved the school and I am honored to call myself an Ole.  However, it was challenging transferring into such a small school as a junior.  My peers had established and cultivated relationships for two years.  I made a few friends, of course, and I treasure those with whom I developed lasting friendships.  However, I was devoted to my academics, had a work study, and wrote for the campus newspaper (beyond the previously mentioned Letter to the Editor!) in addition to being on the running teams.  Outside of the classroom, I spent a majority of my time with my teammates.  I am forever grateful for the friendships forged during workouts, in the weight room, at post-run dinners, at competitions, and on the bus to and from meets.

As illustrated from this post and the previous one, the things I treasure most from my high school and college careers are the relationships I built and the lessons I learned.  Every other accomplishment was just icing on the cake!  I will be forever indebted to the coaches that pushed me, encouraged me, and accepted my level of talent.  I owe my sincerest appreciation to Mr. Oven for introducing me to running, to Chief for helping me build a foundation, and to Coach Daymont for pushing me to reach higher.  Finally, no success would have been possible without the immense support system I had in my parents (but, that’s a whole topic itself!).

Degree in hand, I was ready to find my place in the working world!  And, I had only begun to understand what I could accomplish in the running world!

“The race is not always to the swift, but to those that keep on running.” -Unknown

At my aforementioned small school, high school was grades 7-12. For cross country and track (distance events), we had one coach that trained every athlete from the scared, out-of-shape seventh grader to the confident, varsity standout. Mr. Hasleiet, affectionately referred to as Chief, was a well-known and well-loved coach who had established a legacy of excellence at our school. Under his guidance, I grew to love running. Thanks to him, I became a runner.

It didn’t come easily, though. While I loved the sports I had chosen, I wasn’t necessarily successful. In fact, I struggled. I showed up every day, rarely missing a day of practice, but I hadn’t yet discovered how to push myself and that translated into less than satisfactory race performances. I found, as perhaps many youngsters do, that being around friends is part of the fun of being on a team. Some of us were having too much fun flirting with the boys to concentrate on running hard (cross country and track were two sports where the boys and girls practiced together). And, it was way more entertaining to play pranks and act silly than to take seriously our warm ups and cool downs.

But eventually, some level of maturity set in and so did my respect for the sport. And wow, I discovered what a privilege it was to be on a team… to be on THE Elgin-Millville cross country and track teams. We enjoyed many benefits. Our training runs took us off school property to the nearby park, all around the local community and, occasionally, the apple orchard where the owners allowed us to take an apple after our workouts. We got to embark on overnight trips for invitationals. Before big meets, we were treated to pasta dinners hosted by generous and supportive parents. And all levels of athletes trained as one team, so from an early age we had built in mentors and role models (and later became those mentors and role models).

My work ethic improved as well, once I discovered that this led to improved results (what a concept!). I still didn’t consider myself “good”, though admittedly I was often very hard on myself, especially at a young age. My school also had very successful running programs. Whatever my perceived deficiencies and obstacles, it was because of the depth and strength of our teams. At another school, I would have been a “better” runner and ran more varsity races. And the excuses went on. A typical teenage reasoning!

I did, however, experience some respectable achievements in high school. Here are the ones that immediately come to mind:

• In cross country, I mostly ran junior high/junior varsity every year but my senior year. Though my times were sometimes fast enough to earn a spot on the varsity squad, the coach left me on JV so that a senior could take their rightful and deserved spot on varsity. This was something I understood and was okay with, as I knew it was something that would benefit me when the roles were reversed. Being on the JV team wasn’t all bad. In fact, I ended up winning two races! I still chuckle when I think back to those races. I can remember nearing the finish line and seeing Chief wildly waving his arms in the air. At first, I thought maybe something was wrong, but I soon realized he was making sure I knew where the finish line was, seeing as that I was normally following someone! The trophies I earned in those two races are still cherished running keepsakes.
• When the varsity cross country team advanced to the state meet one year, I was asked to go along as an alternate. Though I wasn’t close to being the 8th or even 9th runner and it was very unlikely I’d be needed, my work ethic had earned me the honor of accompanying the team. It was one of the few times I was thrilled to be carrying sweats, because it meant so much more.
• In track, it was a big deal to me when I broke 13 minutes in the 2 mile, and ran under 6 minutes in the 1 mile (though it was just by a tick!). I recall the 2 mile accomplishment with extra fondness. Normally someone who liked to run alone, against every bit of advice from Chief, I stuck with two girls during this race. In fact, I ran so closely to them that twice the official told me I needed to back off a bit.
• I contributed to one track True Team Championship and one 2nd place finish by earning valuable points in the 2 mile.
• My biggest and most memorable honor, though, came my senior year. In addition to being one of the captains of the cross country team, I was also selected as MVP by my coach. Even in my senior year, I wasn’t the swiftest runner on the team and struggled to stay on varsity. But in Chief’s eyes, my contributions to the team were worthy enough of earning the highest honor (this would rank as one of those achievements I cannot think about without choking up). This award, too, is one of my most valued running possessions.

So as you can see, when I reflect upon my high school running career, I can only recall a handful of achievements. Being on these teams, in the end, was about so much more than any statistic or medal. It was always about the discipline, commitment, and team camaraderie. It was about sticking with something through good and bad. It was about respect- for the sport, our coach, our school, and each other. I ran with some of my teammates for six seasons of cross country and six seasons of track. That was a very special bond. It would be hard to leave that behind after graduation. However, after I graduated high school, I would discover an unexpected surprise was ahead for my running career…

“When you cross the finish line, no matter how slow or fast, it will change your life forever.” – Dick Beardsley  

Since the age of 13, running has been a part of my life.  Actually, it’s been much more than that.  It’s been a major part of my identity.  Of all the things I’ve started and never finished in life, the one thing that has remained a constant is my love of and commitment to running.  It’s something of which I’m intensely proud and emotional.  Ask me about my life achievements thus far, and it’s guaranteed that I’ll mention a running related accomplishment and it’s doubtful I can speak of it without tearing up.  I think often of the decisions I made and those individuals who played an influential role in my life at an early age that led me to where I am today.  I am so thankful that I learned at age 13 what a gift this sport could be.

I went to a small school in southeastern Minnesota that, at the time, was called Elgin-Millville and my sixth grade teacher, Mr. Oven, was the head track and field coach.  A sports and running enthusiast, he spent a fair amount of time instructing his young pupils on the virtues of sports- the life lessons it could teach you and the discipline it could instill in you.  I can still picture the Carl Lewis poster that was draped across his desk at the front of the classroom.  It was a constant reminder of what we could work towards, aspire to be, and what we could achieve.  What would I pursue?  What would I be good at?  Mr. Oven reminded us on a regular basis that only a certain number of kids would get off the bench and get playing time on the basketball court or football field.  There were limited sports to select from at our school, due to the size, thereby further narrowing our choices.  However, Mr. Oven said if we pursued running, everyone would get to participate.  No one would be turned down or cut from the team.  An all inclusive sport?!  Sounds fantastic, but I was in the sixth grade.  I didn’t spend too much time pondering this decision.  There were way too many other important things for a teenage girl to consider, and the seventh grade seemed far off.  I figured I had plenty of time to determine what sports I wanted to pursue.

But then, sprinkled throughout the sixth grade year were various running activities with required participation.  We had cross country day in the fall and track and field day in the spring, not to mention other running related gym events.  I began to notice that I not only enjoyed these events, I was moderately successful at them.  While some of my classmates reacted with repulsiveness, I wanted to know when we could do them again.  Lacking natural speed, I embraced the distance events.  Yes, to a sixth grader, the 600 and 1600 were distance events!  I had struggled enough in gym class with soccer and football and even dodgeball to know that I liked running! Just running!  The seed had been planted…