Barefoot 24

Since "meeting" so many of my crazy ass ultra runner friends I've wanted to help crew one of their silly races.   (And, I kid.  Nothing silly about these races.) I was lucky enough to have such an opportunity when Debbie asked me to come on board for her attempt to run 100 miles barefoot in 24 hours.  Yes please.

I know Debbie through another Daily Mile friend.  Weird the friendships we build over the computer can bring us together to do some really amazing things.  We all tend to help each other out somehow.  Some way.  With running.  With life. 

A twelve hour train ride from Chicago to outside Kansas City brought me to Debbie.  

A unicorn looks over the loop

We chatted a bit.  Had some wine.  Went to bed.  Tomorrow would be a big day.  A bit of an   understatement.  Debbie and the kids were up early.  I couldn't get going.  I sat in bed and texted with a mutual friend of ours who asked a bit about the run.  I giggled hearing the girls pounding on the piano.  Badly.  Giggled even harder when I heard Debbie say cheerfully, "It's so great to be awake isn't it?"  I took that as a sign I needed to get up.  I sauntered downstairs to be greet by the three most beautiful girls.  Who seconds before were chatting loudly out of control.  Sitting there, mouths open.  Staring at me.  I tried to start conversation with them.  I was clearly still in a probationary period with them.  Silence.  That didn't last too long.  Within 10 minutes we were all giggling girls.

Debbie's morning was busy with kids.  Work from home.  I tried to keep her three beautiful girls a bit occupied with teaching them new yoga moves so they would stay out of her hair a bit.  We chatted a bit about Debbie's run.  The girls didn't know quite exactly what she was doing.  But, we did talk a bit about it.  They had some interesting deep thoughts.  So much so, we decided to write them down as mottos for the weekend.

* Life is not about the ice cream.
* It is about breathing.  And everything in between.
* It's a no-death weekend.
* No dying.

The girls went to school just after lunch.  Debbie asked me to braid her hair.  And, then, boom, like that she was up and ready to go.

What?  She's starting NOW?  Wait, what, I'm not ready!  Not sure what I was needing to be ready for.  But, I wasn't sure.  She walked out the door, a smile, and she was off.  

It had begun. 

Debbie started Friday at 12:26 p.m., skipping out the door in her 3 Non Joggers tee.  It was warm out there   Full sun.  But, she was cruising along.  Perhaps a bit too fast as we look back on it.  But, she was a woman on a mission.  Who am I to stop this?

This routine became quite funny
 as the night went on. 

I didn't know quite what I was doing.  I let her come in and give me orders.  Quickly, I figured out the routine.  She pees.  Liquids.  Food. Cold towel around her neck. I clean her feet.  I check her feet.  Lotion them.  Massage them.  (Debbie thinks I could make serious cash on my foot massages.  Ha.) Massage the calfs.  Assess the situation.  Her physical state.  Her mental state. Reapply sunscreen. Then try to get her out the door as soon as possible. 

After a few loops it became quite routine.  Almost like Indy cars in pit row.  But, with less speed and precision. 

She would do several mile loops. Late in the day, just under 20 miles complete,  nausea started to set in.  I got an urgent text to come get her.  To be honest I freaked a bit.  I wasn't sure what that meant.  She said she felt sick.  I threw on my running shoes, grabbed a fresh bottle of Nuun and ran out the door to find her. 

Mind you, I'm not running so much.  Foot hurts.  But, I didn't care what I needed to do to get her back in.  I only had to run around the block to meet up with her.  Got her home. We checked any symptoms she had to gauge her electrolyte levels.   Our very unprofessional opinion was that she needed more electrolytes.  And, more frequent food intake. We also determined we needed to keep a steady eye on her weight. I had actually typed up a chart to keep track of things.  But, in the rush of the start, I forgot about it.  I pulled it out and we started to keep track of the what and whens and at what mile.   

The picture does not capture
how big this hill really was.
Whoa. 

Skibba arrived just after this "incident".  I immediately passed off my duties to her.  She headed out the door with Debbie to keep moving and walk a bit to get going again.  I had a snack, walked the dogs, and took a little breather.  When they returned I  rejoined Debbie to pick up a bike that was graciously being loaned to me for the night.  I sped walked as fast as I could.  My whole leg was hurting me.  Foot too.  Oh well. I tried to really push my pace to keep her moving along.  Having legs almost as tall as her (and I kid.  Kind of) helped push her.  I needed to keep her moving as fast as I could.  My legs are way longer than hers, so I was pushing her as she walked.  Good.   I was happy to get on that bike and off my feet though.  That would change as the night went on.

There were areas that were too rocky or
wet.  So, Debbie did off road running. 

She ran the rest of the loop and I rode the bike.  It was a mountain bike.  What I'm used to.  However, it was too small for me.  No big deal.  Well, not at first anyway.  This would change too. 

Somewhere in the mid 20's
mileage.  Still look good! 

She was now more than a quarter way to her goal.  I passed her off again to Skibba to accompany her on a bike for a few more loops.  I continued my triage duties each time Debbie came inside.  Feet. Foot.  Fuel.  Feet were still looking really good.  Did finally see a blister between two toes.  Moleskinned that up and it was never a problem again.  

Skibba is a morning person (stoopid triathletes) and I'm a night person. So it was easily decided she would get some sleep soon and I would stay up all night with Debbie.

Chain was jammed in the
lower left corner. I could loosen
the rest of the chain. But, not this.
Until I did.  Finally. 

However, disaster struck just before midnight when they came back way too early from a loop. I panicked a bit when the door opened.  Oh, no.  What was wrong with Debbie?  But, it wasn't Debbie.  It was the bike.  A broken/jammed bike chain.  Jammed so tight I have NO idea how it got in there.  No idea how we would get it out.  Without the bike we couldn't continue. Debbie could not be out there alone in the night.  We could not run with her.  It was a bit tense. 

I had already fixed a chain earlier in the day on one of Debbie's daughter's bikes.  I did it extremely quickly, to the point that I impressed Debbie with my ability.  Apparently this takes her forever to do.  So, with the confidence of fixing a little girls bike behind me I would surely be able to do this.  Right?  Ha.  (By the way, I've never fixed a bike chain before) 

Oh, dear.  This chain was SO jammed.  Part of the chain was stuck between the frame and the chain ring. It looked like the laws of physics were against us.  I couldn't see how we could get the chain from point A to point B.  Was just not happening.  No matter how hard I tried.  How hard I pulled.  Pushed.  I felt a sense of panic.  We had to get this fixed  HAD to.  Skibba and I were sharing concerned glances.  Debbie was still moving.  She took the dogs out in the neighborhood as Skibba and I tried to figure this out.  I flipped the bike in every direction I could to get better leverage.  Or see a better option.   In one turn my leg got a bit caught.  Um.  Ouch. Blood. 

'Tis but a scratch. 

We tweeted out SOS cries for help for any cyclists/triathletes we thought A - would still be up B - could tell us HOW to get this chain un-jammed.  We got nothing.  So, Skibba jumped on her road bike (which was a bit hard to ride along with Deb due to the hills, speed we were going and times we were riding in the grass) and they headed back out.  I sat outside with that bike determined to get it working again.

I tugged and pulled and swore.  Nothing.  I did it again and again and again  and again.  Covered in grease.  Still bleeding from my leg.  I got the chain loose several times.  But, still couldn't get it threaded correctly due the original position of the jam.  Tried several times.  And, then pushed REALLY hard.  Pulled REALLY hard. Bike went flying.  I went flying.  My finger got caught in something.  It hurt. But, I heard a click.  I am  pretty sure I yelled "Namaste Muthufuckers"   Bike fixed.  

It was midnight. 

Renewed energy.  "Second Wind Baby, Second Wind!!!!"  Debbie and Skibba returned.   12 hours done.  50.1 miles done.  Debbie's fastest 50 miles ever.  Sweet!  This was an exciting moment.  Debbie had a few emotional moments to reflect on this.  We were happy for her.  But, it was not over.  By any means. 

Skibba hit the bed.  Debbie and I headed out for a long night.  First few loops were good.  Some nausea here and there.  But, otherwise, strong.  Then the feet started to hurt.  Some chaffing issues too.  She did some walking.  I walked with the bike alongside her.  This killed my leg.  But, I couldn't ride this slowly.  I had to keep her moving.  I walked faster then her.  Told her to keep up.   These were some quiet times.  I wasn't really sure I should talk to her.  I didn't want to bug her.  But, I also didn't want to have her fade off mentally.  So, I gave her a mix of quiet.  Falling back a bit behind her to let her go.  Mixed with some random conversations as I rode next to her.

It was here that I feel that I failed Debbie most.  I knew mentally she had it in her.  But, I also knew that sometimes the physical weakness can play havoc with even a strong head.  I didn't have the right words to tell her.  Yes, I'm a cheerleader.  But, I'm the Whooo-Hoo!!!!  Wheeeeee!!!!!!  Go! GO! Go! kind.  At 3 am you really cannot scream those sentiments.  Telling her she was doing awesome just didn't seem like that meant anything at mile 57ish. 

Then, she started to get REALLY sleepy.  She fell asleep while I cleaned her feet.  She fell asleep on the toilet.  I knew she couldn't go on  like this.   She had warned us not to let her stay still for too long.  She told us she would probably argue with us at some point.  But, she couldn't stand.  Hell, I could barely stand.  I was tired.  My legs were sore.  And, I wasn't doing anything.  So, I made an executive decision at 4 a.m. to let her sleep.  For 15 minutes.  I really wanted to sleep too.  But, I was scared we both wouldn't wake up.  So, I lay on my back on the floor and watched her sleep.  My back was aching me from the short bike.  It felt great to lie down.   I felt horrible waking her up.  But, up she went.  I gave her a small sandwich some broth with protein, and, out the door.

Debbie warned us that there would be dark moments.  That should would not be so nice perhaps.  We had hit the dark.  But, we never hit the mean.  Our plan was to get whatever little we could get out of her.  If she planned a 3 mile loop , we tried for 3.25  As we started this new loop I was prepared to ask for some running.  Just a little bit.  But, before I could even ask, she started running. Of course she did.  Why I even questioned it I have no idea.  She ran the entire loop.  Wow. She got to the usual midway point of the loop, started to turn.  I said, "No, let's go to the end of the street."  She paused for a second.  Turned around and headed for the end of the street.  When we got there she turned, looked at me and said, "You happy?"  I giggled.  Said "Yes"  Kissed her forehead.  Off she went.  This was to be the last loop with me.  Sunrise was coming.  

My graveyard shift was over.  62.53 miles done.  5:18 a.m. 

Time to pass her off to Skibba.  I was near the end of my limit.  I was a bit sad to leave Debbie.  But, I was SO tired.  I hate even saying this because, come on,  I think Debbie was a wee bit more tired than me.  But, I am not Debbie.  This was VERY clear to me.  I went to Skibba in bed and told her she was on.   We had a quick debriefing of the events of the night.  What was working. What wasn't working.  What our strategy was to keep Debbie going.  We agreed to keep asking for little increments from her.  Build miles through inches if we had to.  I distinctly recall Skibba asking me to tell her what to do.  That she had no clue what to do.  I giggled. Girl, I had no idea what I was doing either!  If I looked like I knew, it was only because my cluelessness became a clueless routine after so many loops.  Ha! 

I was to go to bed.  Orders given.  I knew I wouldn't. I washed dishes.  Organized some things that got disorganized throughout the night.  I also got yelled at by both of them that I needed to worry a bit about me too.  I needed food.  I needed electrolytes.  Pfffft.  Whatever.  I was hungry so I did sneak in a sandwich (breakfast of champions).  I was up when they were back in the door  about 30 minutes later.  They were back so soon it scared me.  A 5k at 65 miles at 30 minutes or so?  Really, Debbie? REALLY? Whoa.

I needed to get the dogs out so decided to do it barefoot.  And, surprisingly I suddenly had this weird energy.  So, I ran the dogs.  Barefoot.  It felt a wee bit awesome.  I was in no pain.  Weird.  I ran into Debbie on my way back, as she was heading out again. 

I finally gave in to my intense desire to sleep.  I changed into comfy clothes and dove into bed.  No sooner than I did this and the dogs started barking madly.  I knew it wasn't Debbie.  I knew it was Michael .  A barefoot runner friend of Debbie's who was coming to witness her run and run a few miles with her.  I got up.  Let him in.  Gave him the update on the run.  When Debbie came in I went right back to my duties.   For the very first time I really noticed a difference in her feet.  Honestly over the entire time, there was little change.  This time her feet looked a bit raw.  The color was more pinkish.  There were a few punctures.  I needed a bit more moleskin to protect a few spots.  

But, Debbie seemed a bit energized to see Michael.  He asked more detailed questions.  He took pictures of her feet.  Made some video record of what was going on.  Then headed out to run a loop with Debbie.  

This time it was no joke.  I had to get to bed.  It was now 7:30 am.  I don't even remember falling asleep.  Next thing it was 10:30 am and I heard people.  I didn't want to miss the final loop, so I ran downstairs to see what was up.  

Debbie's feet were hurting.  Badly.  She was moving around the house.  It was agreed one last small loop would be made to finish it up.  She had aimed for 100 miles.  But, she was happy with the result.  She should be.  It was quite impressive.  All three of us headed out for that final short loop walk.  At this point we were all giddy and overtired.  We had silly conversation.  Giggled.  It was nice.  There was a good energy knowing Debbie was near her finish.  As we neared the house, Skibba and I let Debbie do the final distance alone.  We stood back and watched.  In awe. 

Debbie finished up her 24 hour barefoot run with 76.62 amazing miles. To witness such strength and determination, even when things got tough and dark, was really an amazing experience.  No matter how bad it got, deep down she was going to keep on keeping on.  And, she did.

It is thought that she holds the record for the longest distance run barefoot by a female.  

I feel so honored to have been a very small part of this achievement.  It was an amazing experience.

Release Me

I sit here, late at night, not running.  Again. I am looking through some of my running stats from one year ago.  Wow, have times changed.  I don't even know who that person was one year ago. 

I miss her. 

I wish I appreciated more what I was doing then.  I had yet to start my Chicago Marathon training.  So, I still was running free.  I didn't even know it  then. No training schedule.  No injuries.  Just running.  When I wanted.  For how far I wanted.  Getting out there and releasing everything. 

It was fun.  It was fast.  It was freeing. 

It was me.

I had no idea I was running so fast.  Okay, I know compared to many of you, this was slow.  But, wow, right now, the thought of doing these paces is really unfathomable to me.  I don't mean soon,  I mean ever. Ever again. 

If I  close my eyes hard enough, I actually can remember these runs.  Running through Wrigley Field, barely anything left in me.  Cold, pouring ran. Running through the huge puddles over the finish line.  To a race PR.  Standing there in amazement.  At what I just did. By myself.  Letting the rain pour down on me, instead of seeking shelter.  

I was happy. 

I remember.

These are my five fastest runs.  Kind of fun to see some of your comments.  Some of you I didn't really know all that well.  And, now know very well.  Thanks for being with me when times were good.  And, thanks for sticking with me when it's not so good. 

5. Hot Thunder

4. Double Dipping

3. Race to Wrigley 5k (PR)


2. A new shiny belt

1. High Noon

Maybe if I close my eyes hard enough.  And dream.  I can run fast and free again.

I'd like that.

I am myself
Like you somehow
I'll ride the wave
Where it takes me
I'll hold the pain
Release me

Sunshine

We have had one week of amazing weather here in the Chicago area.  Eighty degree temps and bountiful sunshine.  It's been nice to feel a bit of summer on my runs and rides.  I love me some sunshine.  I love how it feels on my skin.  Especially after I've been without it for so many months.  It makes me feel alive.  Makes me happy.  Ahhhh, sunshine. 

My father called me Sunshine.  It always made me smile. Come on, your dad calling you Sunshine? Melted my little heart.  And, sometimes, when he would hold me he would sing, "You Are My Sunshine".  Love. 

My dad loved  the sunshine.  His favorite place in the world was our gazebo or hammock in St. Maarten. He would spend afternoons  lounging in the sun in the beach hammock, reading a good book. Come sunset time he would move to the gazebo with the book, this time adding a nice cocktail as he watched the sun set on another gorgeous day. 


However, dad also loved bad weather.  Tornadoes, hurricanes, the worse the better.   If tornado sirens were going off, dad was outside watching the sky.  When we were in a major hurricane in St. Maarten, he took a very minor reduction in winds during the middle of the hurricane as an opportunity to go outside and stand in it.  The winds were intense and almost unbearable to stand in.  But, he hunkered down in a spot that gave him a vantage point to watch the intensity of the storm from the front row.  Of course, I was right behind him.  The apple didn't fall far.  

Ten years ago today my dad died.  I cannot believe it's been ten years.  I have no idea where the time went.  It still seems like yesterday. I can still remember the events of those last twenty four hours with every single detail.  Up until the moment my my dad took his last breath. 

I was my father's daughter .  After he died I honestly thought the sun would never shine again.  There's something about losing a parent.  If you have been unfortunate to know this feeling, you know.  If you are lucky enough to not know it I hope that you don't for a very long time. 

My sister's bib for the St. Paddy's Day 5k

I have several friends who have rocky relationships with their parents.  I only tell them this.  Make amends.  Even if they did you wrong.  Weren't the best parents.  Made you struggle to be the amazing person you are today in spite of them.  Whatever it is.  Be the better person.  Forgive.  Love. Because, life is too short.   My dad was not perfect.  He made mistakes.  He wasn't always a good dad.  But, he did love me.  And, in the end of his life I felt his love stronger than I ever had.  Maybe it was because I was taking care of him.  As he slowly died, I stood up strong.  To help him.  Oddly the moment in my life he was proudest of me was when I was helping him die. 

I have so many male friends who have daughters.  I love watching them interact with them.  There's something so special about the father-daughter relationship.  I'm not even sure my friends realize the impact they are having on their daughters.  But, let me tell you, it's a big one.  If you are a father to a daughter, don't take what you say and do with them for granted.  They remember it all. It matters. 

Losing my dad was hard.  He was THE man in my life.  Always.  He comforted me when I was sad.  Gave me that kind of bear hug that only a dad can give.  When I got physically hurt my mom would give me the bandaid and calm me down.  However, dad would tell me me to suck it up and stop crying.  My dad was there to help me with life lessons.  With stuff as a girl I didn't know how to do.  I would ask my dad.  Often he would do it for me.  But, many times he would make me figure it out myself.  

After he died I had to figure everything out myself.  I could no longer ask him.  That was hard at first.  I cannot tell you how many times I reached for the phone, thinking I could call him.  Only to remember I would never be able to again.  I didn't figure out a lot of things right without him. I made mistakes.  I still do.  

I really need my dad now.  For so many reasons.  My running sucks.  I am struggling.  I'm being whiny.  I need him to remind me to suck it up.  Shut up and just do it.  But, I also need him to give me the hug that only he could give.  To tell me that it would be ok.  That life would be ok.  He didn't hug me often. When he did it was unexpected.  But, it was in a moment I surely needed it.  The unexpected hugs tend to mean the most.  I miss having someone to protect me.  From life.  From me.  

The sun does still shine.  But, it's not the same.


I. Miss. My. Dad.

Fight on.  Livestrong.  Run on. 

Suck it cancer. 

I Never

I never was the smartest.
I never was the prettiest.
I never was the funniest.
I never was the tallest.
I was never the fastest.
I was just me.

I really don't know how I got through school.  How I managed to get  an MBA in International Business Management.  I was in SO far over my head.  But, ever winging it, somehow I got through it.  

I have to say, I have the prettiest friends.  They are not only pretty, they are SO funny.  Often I sit in silence while they work the room.  I can't even compete.   Hell, I wasn't even tall growing up.  My bff's in high school were both 5'11".  Even at 5'10" I couldn't win.  

In swimming I held my own.  I certainly wasn't weak.  But, I certainly was no star.  Only during some odd summers where my birthday fell just after the age deadline was I handed a gift and allowed to compete in the lower age group.  So, for those few months, I WAS the fastest.  I did win.  In the championship meet I got first. Hell yeah.  Ahhh, but I kind of felt like a fraud.   

I still am very competitive.  No matter what.  To be smart.  To be pretty.  Funny.  Tall. Fast.  

The other night at dinner some running friends tried to convince me that being fast is not important.  (This coming from two very fast people, mind you.)  I heard them.  I understand them.  But, it still doesn't compute with my brain.  Because no matter what, I feel I have to be faster.  Faster than I have been.  Faster than somebody else.  Fast.  

One year ago I was in my best shape.  I was running fast and fierce. For me anyway. One year ago yesterday I raced a 10k in St. Maarten. After three weeks of drinking and fun the last thing I wanted to do was race a 10k.  But, I promised my friend RJ that I would.  Amongst all the fun I had actually been running quite steadily.  No matter how little sleep I had. I still managed to get a few good runs in a week.  It sure helped that RJ was all on me.  I would get a call on the beach while he was at work, "What are you doing?'  "Um, sitting on the beach.  Duh." "Well, get your ass home.  I'm picking you up in 15 minutes.  We are going running." And, somehow, some way, I got up.  Shuffled the 5 minutes back home. And got ready to run. 

Race morning was tough.  I had been out every night for three weeks.  I finally stayed home the night before the race.  But, it was killing me that all my friends were out. I couldn't sleep.  I woke up before my alarm.  Had coffee on the patio, overlooking the ocean.  Another gorgeous day on the horizon.  I stopped at the local convenience store on the way to the race.  As I got back in my car I noticed runners coming upon me. Half marathoners from the race who had already started. I stood and cheered them on.  I appeared to be the only person up that early other than them.  

Me & RJ (Check out the doode behind us) 

I met up with RJ  at the race start.  Shortly thereafter we were off.  7 am is already hot in St. Maarten.  It was full sun.  No shade.  I ran slow and steady to start.  I started to feel good and pulled away from RJ.  There were some women running with me.  We kind of stuck together.  For the next few miles we took turns passing each other. At mile two I started to see the half marathoners coming at me.  The first guy was hauling.  I was going to give him a courtesy wave as he passed.  Just as I was doing so, I realized I knew him.  RJ's friend Andi.  I had randomly seen him cross the finish line at the 2010 Chicago Marathon.  We screamed hello, whoo-hoo'd, smiled, and ran on. 

I hit the turn around, at that convenience store where I had seen the half marathoners, and made my way back. At this point I was hurting.  I was REALLY hot.  I was struggling with my endurance.  But, more importantly I was having a hard time keeping up with some of the women I was playing tag with.  But, I kept on.  I passed RJ as he neared the turnaround and we waved.  I ended up passing a few of the women as they struggled more than me.  But, a few moved ahead of me too.  I was disappointed I couldn't keep up.  The last half mile was brutal.  I was really hurting.  I almost wanted to walk it out.  But, I didn't  Somehow I managed to cross that finish line.  Andi was there cheering me in.  

Best post chillaxin'

I grabbed a cold beer and fresh hot french croissants and waited for RJ to finish.  High fives, hugs, kisses. And, off for beer for him too.  We chilled and talked on the beach while the rest of the racers finished.  Out of curiosity I went to peek at the finishers standings.  I was absolutely floored to see that I had won my age group. Ok, granted, this was no big race.  Just a small island race.  But, still.  I came back to RJ giggling like a fool.  He wanted to know why.  I told him.  I'm pretty sure he threw some profanity at me.  Because that's how we roll. But, he also kissed me and congratulated me too.   

Gigglin' as I get my medal

So, those women I couldn't keep up with.  Yeah, they were TWENTY years younger than me.  Mmmm'kay? 

I forget that sometimes. The people I think I'm trying to compete with are not even in my league.  So, why am I even wasting my energy worrying about such silly stuff?  One of these young "gals" who had beaten me, came up to me post race.  She gave me congratulations and said she was struggling and that I pushed her to finish strong.  Then she said, "Have you seen your legs?"  I was puzzled.  I said, "Uh..... What?  Why?"  She replied, "Your legs are sick.  When you run your muscles are ridiculous."  Oh my God.  I giggled so hard.  Apparently, I wasn't the only one eyeballing the competition.  And,  I'm not bad for an old broad either I guess.   

Six weeks after my St. Maarten race  I ran the Race to Wrigley 5k.  I was so excited to finish a race by running the hallowed grounds of Wrigley Field.  I had friends sign up with me.  But, come race morning it was pouring rain and cold.  Absolutely miserable.  Every single one of my friends pulled out.  Everyone but me.  I was going dammit.  I stood in the start corral,  freezing, while rain pelted me in the face.  I was shivering.  It  was awful.  But, we sang Take Me Out To the Ballgame and off we went.   

As we started to run I got warm.  The rain felt great.  The crowd was fun.  It was moving well.  No walkers (I ALWAYS get walkers).  The energy was great.  I was alone, but I didn't feel alone.  I kept pushing myself.  I felt like I was moving forward as opposed to being passed by people.  It kind of felt awesome.  For once.   As we neared Wrigley for the finish I got a surge of energy.  I hit the concourse area and screamed with everyone else "Go Cubs" as it echoed throughout the the stadium.  And, as soon as we went in... we came out the other side, right through the finish line.  I gave it all I had as I crossed.  Nothing left in me at all.  The finish line was under at least several inches of water.  So splash! splash! splash!  across the line I went.  And, then I was done.  By myself.  I was done.  

They had immediate readouts for your splits, finish time, and place.  Holy crap.  A PR for me. By a few minutes actually.  27:26 (8:55).  20th in my division.  Hey, look at me.  Still not the fastest.  But, happy as a clam with being fast for me. It continued to pour.  But, I stood there in the rain and let it all soak in.  I was pretty damn happy. 

This St. Patrick's Day I'm racing a 5k.  In my head I want to PR.  But, in reality I know I'll get nowhere near my Wrigley Race.  Perhaps I never will again.  But, that's okay.  

I will never be the smartest.  The prettiest.  The funniest. The tallest.   I have to learn to know that it's all okay.   I may be witty and charming instead of intelligent smart.  Someone may find me pretty out there in the world.  I think I can make some people laugh sometimes.  I'm certainly taller than Gwen. 

And, fast?  Well, I really have to learn that it's okay that I'm not.   I got broke.  I got fixed.  But, I'll never be where I was before.  Partially because I just cannot physically.  Partially because I cannot mentally.   

I'm not racing to win.  I'm not racing to beat some faceless person whom I have no business racing.  I'm there to race me.  The me that I was.  The me I've yet to become.  And, whatever the result, I'm okay with that. 

Ok, now who's up for a game of "I Never"............ 

(you're welcome) 

I Won't Turn Back

When there is no turning back, then we should concern ourselves 

only with the best way of going forward. 

Paolo Coelho

Going forward.  

That's the direction I'm heading towards now. 

August 21st 2011.  The day I quit  half way through my attempt at an 18 mile marathon training run.  Even though two friends kicked my ass to get out there and get it done.  My mind was spent. My heart was weak.  My body, unbeknownst to me at the time, was broken.  The next day I felt pain.  Emotional pain.  Physical pain. 

I never ran again (except for two or three illegal runs) for almost 6 months.  Not really ran.  For six months. 

Not with my heart. My mind.  What was left of my body.  I may have moved my legs.  But, I had pain.  Lots of it. As great as some of those runs felt to just be running.  In reality, I was faking it.  Because I wanted it to be ok.  My leg to be ok.  Me to be ok. 

It wasn't.  I wasn't.

Being hurt sucks.  Getting hurt sucks.  Hurt of any kind just plain sucks

Sucks because you can't control it.  Sucks because you cannot fix it.  Sucks because.... It. Just. Sucks. 

I can still distinctly recall last spring when one of my Daily Mile friends got injured.  I read his posts about him not being able to run.  His frustration.  While I felt bad for him, I couldn't really relate.  I had never been injured.  In all my years of swimming I was never injured.  Not once.  No shoulder pains.  No knee pains.  Nothing. Since I started running everything HAD been ok.  I had some minor pain in my sciatic area.  But, nothing to be really bothersome.  I was running the best I ever had.  I was in the best shape I had been in in years. Every race was a PR.   I really couldn't relate to his frustration.  I felt bad for him. But, in reality I could not really relate. He eventually just stopped posting.  

However, I remember when he started to make his comeback a few months later.  How wonderful it was to read he was on the road back.  Ironically, just as I was falling off the road....

I have so many running friends who are fighting off injury right now.  We are at all levels of recovery.  We all know.  We all get it.  Sadly.  We all just want to be well.  To be us again.  To run. 

The other night a friend was talking to me about my injury.  Telling me that during this time there was surely something I learned about me.  Something about ME that I was able to discover during this time.  I'm still not sure what it was.  Kind of sad that I can't figure out what I learned.  But, I did realize I started blogging during this time.  Weird.  I didn't even realize that this all began because I wasn't running.  

I would talk to my friend Mike about running.  About our injuries.  One night he told me I should write a blog.  Looking back perhaps it was his polite way of getting me to talk it out in a blog instead of bugging him.  Ha.  He had a blog.  A very good blog.  His wife, Julie, was just about to start her blog. But, what was I going to write about?  I had nothing to say.  Nothing anybody would want to read.  

But, I started writing.  I still have no idea what about.  Or why.  Or to whom. But, I wrote. 

So, maybe that's what I learned while injured.  To start letting thoughts in my head get out a bit.  To let some of what brews in my head while I run to be released.  Perhaps not for others to read necessarily.  However, if someone else gets it, fantastic. But, maybe more for me.  Just me. 

To my friends still injured: it gets better.  You WILL get through this.  I promise you.  Promise. 

I'm taking the baby steps back.  I'm running again.    I have a long way to go.  A very long way. But, I'm not going back.  I cannot change what happened to me.  With my injury.  With my life. I cannot change that I got hurt.  I cannot change how bad it made me feel.   How miserable some days really were. It wasn't my fault. 

I can only go forward. One step at a time. One word at a time. Ahead.

I won't turn back.  I can't.  And, I wont.

Run on.  Write on.  Be.  

Oh, and that friend who was injured last spring?  He went on to finish his first 100 mile ultra in the fall.  How 'bout them apples? 

Make It Count

Today I ran for Sherry Arnold.  A runner.  Who woke up early one morning and never returned. Can you imagine?  She went out for a run and never came back. 

I often run alone. Sherry could be me.  However, I try to make sure it won't be me.  Each run I take is different.  The path is different.  The time is different.  You really could not predict my where and when.  It's pretty much by chance.  But, partly because I don't want anyone to know where they can find me.  Should someone be up to no good.  I always let someone know I'm going out for a run.  Whether it's a family member or a friend.  Yes, I do have some random runners who text with me on some of my long runs.  Yes, I need the motivation  The giggles.  To keep going.  But, more importantly, I need someone to know that I've made it home safely.  I've never told them this.  But, it is part of why I need them for runs.  To make sure I'm okay.  

When I first read about today's tribute run a few weeks ago on her cousin's blog - Shut Up and Run I was still not running, due to injury.  My goal was that, no matter what, I would run for Sherry today.  Somehow.  Someway.

Today people all around the world ran in memory of Sherry.  I was one of them.  I got up on a very cold, windy, Illinois winter day.  The sky was blue, the air was brisk.  It was beautiful.   I normally run on roads near my home.  However, today I decided to run along the nearby river path.  We had snow last night.  So, the path was a bit icy and slippery.  But, I made sure I took my time with my footing.  With my thoughts.  For Sherry. 

I passed several runners along the path.  Two separate times I passed groups of young men.  Probably from the local college, a running powerhouse.  At no time did I feel uneasy about passing them.  Maybe I should? But, I didn't.  Each time the guys gave me smiles, "good mornings", and "have a great run". 

I stopped here, along the river, to spend some moments to think of Sherry.  About how absolutely horrible this is.  That she woke up.  Went for a run.  Who would think something so horrible would happen?  I think about what her the last words her family spoke to her.  The last words her friends said to her.  

When I was in high school, a 10 year old girl whom I had babysat on one occasion went missing.  She was sick.  Stayed home from school.  Her mother had a neighbor check in on her staying home alone.  She came home from work at lunch to check in on her.  When her older sister returned  from school later that day she found the front door knocked down.  Her sister gone.  Days, later they found her.  Raped and murdered.  A 10 year old girl.  It was my first knock of how life can be so horribly, awfully, and incredibly senseless sometimes.  

Her family surely never expected when they left for school and work that day that they would never see her again.  Surely, they were all running out the door heading out to where they needed to be.  Perhaps there were hugs.  And kisses.  And, some I love you's.  

But, like Sherry's family and friends, they didn't know these were the last words they would say to her.  

Do you leave people with words that you would be happy were the last words they would ever hear?  Were they happy words?  Did you make them smile?  Did you make them laugh?   Did you leave them feeling good?  As they walked away from your face, or hung up the phone, or read the last text, would that last impression be a good one? 

Or would it be one of hatred?  Uncaring?  Indifference? 

When you know someone is sick and dying you say what matters.  You say what needs to be said.  You make sure they know it.  That when they die they know that they are loved.  That they mattered.  That they will be missed. 

Last night I spent a great evening with my 10 year old niece at her swim meet.  My niece, the same age as the girl murdered when I was young.  Whoa.  That thought makes my heart sink.  Deep.

She smoked her race and continues to dominate in the pool (that's my girl).  Due to other family obligations I was there alone.  For four hours.  She came up into the stands to sit with me a few times.  To chat.  To tell me she was so glad I was there.  I told her how proud I was of her. Of her swimming.  Of what a wonderful young lady she had become.  She brought her friends up to chat with me too. They were funny.  Made me smile.  

After the meet we went to dinner.  I told her that I was having so much fun on our "date".  She giggled and said that her friends always tell her that she has the kewlest aunt ever.  That she thinks she's pretty lucky to have me as her aunt.  Oh em gee.  My heart swelled. 

I took her home.  Chatted with my sister for a bit about the meet.  Said goodbye to everyone.  Went to my car.  My niece came running out screaming.  I thought she had left something.  I stopped.  Asked her what was wrong.  She said, "Nothing.  I didn't tell you I loved you." 

Awwww.  I love her so.  She hugged me, hard and tight.  Told me she loved me.  I had my typical response, "I love you MORE"  She giggled.  Said she loved ME more.  I said I loved HER more..... and we went on.  Like we always do.  Until we laugh so hard we have to stop.  

I went home.  With a smile on my face and a heart full of love. 

You never know what the last words to others may be.  

Make them count. 

Because you sometimes, sadly, can't go back and make it right.

SeVeN eLeVeN

  A couple of months (?!) ago,my friend,  Mike tagged me in a game where you tell 7 random things about yourself  and then tag  more bloggers to do the same.   Apparently, this took me awhile.  I don't know what the hell I did for three months.  But, I finally did it. These aren't very interesting.  And, I'm not sure how random.  But, blech,  here are 7 random things about me. 

1 -  I was never a runner. I was a swimmer.  Since the age of 5 I swam competitively.  I was never the best.  But, I held my own.  I had the fortune of a birth date that allowed me to swim down an age group for a summer every few years.  These were the summers I got to be somewhat awesome in the pool.  Other than that I was a good bench player.  Was good for rounding out a decent relay.  Could push someone's ass in practice a bit harder.  Not quite beat them.  But, make them work harder for that lane lead.  Oh, yes, and I was a great cheerleader.  Shocker. 

I was captain of my high school swim team  and made the State team for all four years of school.  I also swam for a club team and was lucky enough to qualify for our National Team.  Again, I barely made the National standards, but made them I did.  I got a huge kick out of watching my teammates kick some major ass in the pool though.  How kewl to have two teammates on my team go on to become Olympic swimmers.  One for the U.S.  and one for Italy.   

Connie (L.) and me (R.) hugging Olympian and general great guy
Rowdy Gaines at the 1984 U.S. Olympic Trials. 

Connie and I were on rival high school teams but teammates on our club team.  She kicked my ass quite regularly.  We just reconnected last fall after not seeing each other  since high school.  Wow. That was pretty great to reconnect.   I dragged her ass to Daily Mile and am thrilled to see her progress in her triathlon training.  Wheeeee!    

Connie, Olympian Steve Lundquist, our
1988 Olympian teammate, Susan & me. 

2 -  I worked at the U.S. Olympic Training Center  While in graduate school I was lucky enough to earn an internship with the U.S. Taekwondo Union at the U.S. Olympic Training Center.  After my internship was over they asked me to stick around and work until the Barcelona Olympics were complete.  I was more than happy to do so. 

Working at the USOTC was pretty amazing.  We ate lunch with the athletes in their dining hall.   Thankfully, we also had access to some of the exercise workout areas when the athletes weren't doing their workouts.  That was fun.  We socialized with many athletes and had fun following their paths towards an Olympic Team.   Since all my friends worked for different National Governing Bodies (sports)  we had fun perks for many sporting events.  .    

Living in Colorado wasn't so bad either.  Waking up every morning looking at Pikes Peak was pretty amazing.  Often we would wake up early on Saturday mornings and take the hike up to the top (12+ miles) and hitch rides back down with some tourist in a car at the top.   A few times we hit the mid point camp and made it a two day trip up and down.  Wow, I was SOOO out of shape.  I look back and think how much better I could do this hike now.  At least I hope so.  

3- I volunteered with the 1996 Atlanta Olympics  For one month I had a very kick ass job with the Atlanta Olympics.  When deciding which areas I would try to volunteer for I made a conscious decision not to pick a sporting venue.  I wanted a more well rounded experience.  Lucky for me, I got exactly what I wanted >>>>> Accreditation.  Every single person associated with ANY part of the Olympics needs credentials.  Athletes, coaches, volunteers, press, everyone.  

I processed a variety of people coming through the accreditation center.  But, of course, processing the athletes was the best part.  It was SO fun seeing some big time names come through.  You were kind of forced to have small talk with each person as they made their way through your section.  My absolutely favorite was the men's Greek water polo team. Hands down.  No contest.  They were absolutely hilarious and fun.  And, gee, imagine that, Greek gods.  


Some days I worked in the Athletes Village.  Credentials for the village were extremely tough to get.  So, having that on my pass was pretty awesome.  Days I worked in the village I would often spend my off time just walking around, taking in all the amazing people around me.  As volunteers we were all invited to watch the complete full on dress rehearsal of the Opening Ceremonies.  A great thrill. 

I met up with my former team mate and former Olympian, Susan, to watch some swimming events.  That was pretty awesome.  She also invited me to attend an Olympic Alumni cocktail party.  Oh, yeah, just a wee bit kewl to hang out with some pretty impressive athletes.  Even chatting up with all those big names in the room, my favorite athlete I talked to was a little old lady ( Annette_Rogers ) wearing her 1932 LA Olympic gold medal and chatting away like it was yesterday.  Wow, she was super cute.  I loved her. 


Susan and I were there the night of the Olympic bombing.  Literally standing in the exact spot where the bomb went off.  Watching the concert.  It was super late.  We were tired.  We decided to head home.  Less than 5 minutes later the bomb went off.  We were lucky.  To say the least. 

4 -   I lived in Seoul, Korea for a few months.   After college graduation and before hearing about my acceptance into graduate school I had time to kill.  My college roommate, Julie had moved to Seoul to be with her family and start a new job.  She asked me to come join her for a few months, or whatever.   I said, what the hell, and jumped on a plane.  I wasn't sure what I was going to do.  But, I was young.  Why not?   

I arrived there the day the Gulf War (Operation Desert Storm) started.  With Seoul, being the home of a very large U.S. Military base tensions were a bit high in the city.  But, we felt pretty safe.  Almost all our friends were U.S. Military.  So, we did spend lots of time on the base as well. 

In the evenings, I taught English to Korean businessmen and university students.  During the day I ran through the streets of U. N. Village, where we lived.  Running by Rev Moon's  house each time.   My mother was convinced someone would open the gate and come out and kidnap me and make me marry in a mass wedding ceremony.    I would run to the local shopping and nightlife district, Itaewon, and browse for deals.  I also spent lots of time in bookstores.  There were very small sections of English books.  But, I think I may have read all of them.  While standing in the store.   Late evenings were spent hanging out with friends, both local Koreans, and U.S. Military.  Our hangout was in the popular Itaewon area.  Nothing like spending your nights out on Hooker Hill.  Was always strange passing by hookers on our way into our little dive watering hole where we all hung out.  

I was a freak in Korea. Im 5'10" and blonde.  I stuck out like a sore thumb.  I often got whispers, stares and points.  They weren't shy about it either.  It was certainly an interesting feeling for me.  

5 - I once did 15 shots.  I know, I'm classy like that.  While in Korea my friends and I took a trip to Boracay, Philippines.  Whoa, this was amazing.  Super, super beautiful.  The people.  The island.  Everything.  I'll never forget this trip. 15 Shots and Still Standing ? Yup, the first American women to do so.  Check. Playing pool at a cliffside bar we had to hike up to?  Check.  But, the pool table, uh, how the hell.... oh forget it.  Ultragliding?  Check.  Nights with toes in the sand at beach side bars with vagabonds traveling the world?  Check. Unforgettable trip?  Check. 

6 -   I'm a Cubs fan.  Yes, I know.  Go ahead with the jokes. But, it's more than just baseball for me.  It's about my grandma.  My grandma was a life long Cubs fan.  Growing up on the South Side of Chicago she somehow found a love for the Northsiders.  She was a fan all her 102.5 years.  I don't know how, but she never went to a game at Wrigley Field. That's until we took her.  At age 90.  She went to her first baseball game at age 90!  It was awesome. To see the glint in her eye as she looked around the ballpark.  Looked at the field.  Looked at the game.  It was so special.  We took her every year after, for at least one game.  As she continued to get up there in age the Cubs organization always treated her like a queen.  Her last game to Wrigley came at age 102.5.  

So, yes, I'm a Cubs fan. I wouldn't have it any other way.  Go Cubs Go!

7- My home away from home is a little cottage on the beach in St. Maarten.  40something years ago my parents went on a Windjammer Cruise.   Unfortunately the boat hit a bad storm and became in distress.  Somehow the boat managed to barely get to the shores of St. Maarten.  Back in that day there were very few people on the island at all.  But, word somehow got out to them.  People were waiting ashore for the passengers when they came ashore.  

When my parents disembarked they were met by a lovely American couple, Howard and Evelyn DeMyers's,  who were living on St. Maarten.  This couple was from LaPorte, Indiana, but retired to the island to work on their artwork.   They took my parents to their beachfront cottages.  The DeMyer's were leaving on vacation the next day.  So, they told my parents to stay there for the rest of their intended vacation and leave them $10 for their stay.  My parent's did just that.  They kept in touch with the DeMyer's and returned to visit them on St. Maarten in the years to follow.  Eventually, the DeMyers decided to move back to the U.S.  They offered up their little piece of beachfront paradise to my parents before they left.  My parents bought it.   For pennies.  

St. Maarten Greenhouse 10k

It's been our little piece of happiness ever since. These cottages are nothing special.  Little cottages on the beach.  Nothing fancy.  But, it does me right.    I am my most happiest here.  No contest. I have many fond memories of my childhood here.  And, even more amazing memories as an adult.  I have friends on the island I have known for over 25 years.  Including my dear friend Robert-Jan .  I did my first St. Maarten race  last year, joining RJ at The Greenhouse 10k.  After 3 weeks of constant partying this was a really tough one for me.  Ahhhh, but, lookie here, I won my age group!  Hee, hee.  I really should have vomited afterwards.  A lot.  I would have felt SO much better.  RJ joined me last August to run his first half marathon, running start to finish with me at Rock n Roll Chicago. 

Unfortunately, we've had many horrible hurricanes in the last decade or so.  Two, were particularly devastating for us.  Backwards hurricanes.  Coming from the west, back tracking again towards the Caribbean. We've suffered some pretty terrible damage to the property.  Seems like we would never get back to what it once was.  And, somehow, we do.  But, not before a lot of my blood, sweat, and many, many tears.  

I feel so lucky to have had this special place to escape to.  It brings me such peace.  I am my most happiest here.  Always.  

~~~~~~~>>>So, that's SeVeN about me.  Not very interesting.  But, something.  The instructions for when I was tagged was to tag other bloggers to do the same.  I know, I know.... it's maybe not something ya'll want to do.  But, dammit, I don't care. 

>>>>>>Addendum:  I was gong to post this last night.  But, then later yesterday Becca tagged me in another post.  So.... I guess I'll combine the two.

The rules:

1)  Post these rules.
2)  You must post 11 random things about yourself.
3)  Answer the questions set for you in their post.
4)  Create 11 new questions for the people you tag to answer.
5)  Go to their blog and tell them you’ve tagged them.
6)  No stuff in the tagging section about “you are tagged if you are reading this.” You legitimately have to tag 11 people.


Sooooo......4 more random facts:

8 - I met both Ozzy Osbourne and Tommy Lee While I was in high school we were in Indianapolis for a swim meet and they were in concert in town.  They happened to be staying on the same floor of the hotel as us.  I know, weird.  Women were jumping in laundry carts, climbing up fire escapes, you name it, to get on our floor.  We thought it was hilarious.  Very entertaining.  One of our parents called us up to the hotel bar because he was sitting with Ozzy and told him we wanted to meet him.  Ozzy couldn't have been nicer.  I still remember holding his Heineken as he signed autographs for us.  We met Tommy later.  They were SOOO loud in their room.  (duh)  We giggly girls just went up and knocked on the door and Tommy, dressed only in itty bitty running (ha) shorts opened the door.  Invited us in.  This is where I could get all Dear Penthouse Forum on you.  But, it was actually really normal.  We sat on the bed and Tommy asked us about our swimming and we talked about their music, the concert, the silliness going on in the hotel.   He offered us tickets to the concert, but we had to decline because we had to be up early  for our meet. Honestly, he couldn't have been nicer too.  

9 - I have a double jointed hip .  Great bar tricks in college.  And, I suspect the REAL source of my leg injuries.  If I only knew back then....  I can also do the splits.  Or could.   It's been a bit hard with the leg n shit.  But, this is when I know I'll be back.  When I can do the splits again.   I can also do a mean cart wheel. But, y'all already knew that. ;) 

10. I've been to a nude beach.  A lot.  Meh, it's not as exciting as it sounds.  St. Maarten beaches are pretty Euro anyway.  So, you kind of see and do pretty much anything.  But, there is a specific clothing optional beach where wearing a suit is NOT the norm.  You really do get over the giggling pretty quickly.   I think last year at RnR Chicago a group of us  decided that we wanted to have a nekkid 5k on the beach early one morning sometime.   The St. Maarten Pink Monkey Nekkid 5k is still in the works.  Y'all are invited. ;)

11.  I love to wear heels.  They are more comfortable than flat shoes for me. Again, also probably contributing to my injuries.  And, yes, I'm 6'1"+ in them.  And, that suits me just fine.   

Questions asked by Becca:

1.  If you drink coffee, how do you take it? Cream, sugar,  Ya know, like a hot chocolate. ;)

2. What is your guilty iTunes pleasure? You Shook Me All Night Long,  AC/DC

3. What is your favorite junk food treat?  Any salty chip. Cheetos?  Yummy toxic goodness.

3.  Cats or dogs.  Dogs.  No friggin question.  Dogs all the way.  I hate cats.  They also make me die.

5. What is your favorite part of your body (we all have one and I don't want to know your least favorite)?  The body part that least makes me want to vomit? Oh, my legs.  If only the rest of my body matched.

Our CM11 race sign

6. When drinking beer do you drink out of the bottle of use a glass?  Bottle.  Unless it's on tap.  Then it's kind of silly for them to put it in a bottle. 

7. What would your dream job be? Professional Beach Bum

8. If you could choose a different first name what would it be?  Annastasiabeaverhausen

9. What is your favorite "That's what she said" line.  also one of my favorite race signs

10. What are you most surprised about with regards to your life today? The confidence that running has given me.  Yes, I still loath myself.  But, not nearly as much.  And, I'm not nearly as shy.  Or full of self hatred as I was. Before.   Still a work in progress. 

11. What accomplishment are you most proud of?  I would think I would say each and every new running distance I accomplish.  And, I would hope it will someday be finishing a marathon.  But, in reality the thing I am most proud of is taking care of both my dying father and grandmother until their deaths.  I know that sounds weird.  But, during these times I felt like I had a purpose.  It was the most difficult thing I've done.  But, at the same time the most rewarding.  To be there when they needed me. The most. To feel their love and gratitude.  To my core. To have them tell me so over and over again.  It made me proud to be his daughter.  It made me proud to be her granddaughter.  Still am.

>>>>>  Addendum #2  I got tagged again this afternoon by Nathan

Sooooo, here are his questions and my answers:

1) Favorite running race? Chicago Shamrock Shuffle 8k

2) What’s your favorite Neil Diamond song? Sweet Caroline
3) Who's the first person people you text after a race? I plead the 5th. 
4) Who makes your favorite race day underwear? Underwear? 
5) What’s your second favorite Neil Diamond song? The 2nd time they play Sweet Caroline after I've had 4 more beers
6) Flip flops or sandals? Sandals
7) Favorite vacation spot? St. Maarten
8)  Favorite Sports athlete? Michael Jordan
9) If you had to get a tattoo what would it be? You mean I'd be forced to? I've never been able to think about a good one here.  I have a few ideas I go back and forth with from time to time.  Maybe an infinity symbol. A palm tree. I don't know. I just don't like the idea of permanency.  Today I guess I would get a tramp stamp picture of  Steve
10) Swim, bike or Run? Swim

11) Favorite day of the week?  Rest day. 

My questions:

1. What was your most emotional race finish and why?

2. Where in the world would you want to run/swim/bike?  For fun.  No race.  Just fun.

3. Who do you miss?

4. What is your favorite t.v. show?

5. Are you worried about doing things right?  Or doing the right thing?

6. What's your happiest childhood memory?

7. If you knew that everyone was going to die tomorrow, who would you visit today? 

8. What extreme sport would you love to try or be able to do?

9. How old would you be if you didn't know how old you were?

10. What would you tell the 10 year old you about the you of today? What would you tell the 10 year old to do differently?  

11.  What, if anything,  have you learned from ME?

You're it >>>>>  (11 random things, answer my questions, pose your questions, tag others)


(and yes, I know some of you won't do this.  But, I had to try... )
1. Suzi - Ok, just one more beer...
2. Steve - Soul Runner
3. Jeremy - Jeremy Runs This
4. Michelle - Life is Good
5. Logan - The Una Runner
6. Brian - bgfay750
7. Claire -Run Fa(s)t Girl Run
8. Connie - Reaching For the Wall
10. Becky - The Good the Bad and the Becky (I giggle because I know there's no way she'll do this!)
11. Kristie - coachkristie
12. Greg - From Zero to 70point3
13. Kim - Outside My Head