For your reference, please refer to "Phase 1" of above said Fantasy. Here, some two years later, is an update for you.
I am in a new band. Chasin' Jasons. Marion is in it with me. We are a five-piece, four of whom are lead vocalists for an always entertaining "guess-who?" game. But here is the kicker -- I am the keyboard player.
Holy Hell. We are still in the practice stages, and our first gig together will be on 6/23 for a private party. I am torn between sheer terror and - well, milder sheer-er terror. But hey? Now I can honestly say that I haven't let fear of failure rule my adult mentality...and if I'm beheld as a fool, then I'm a fool in a rock band. I can live with that.
L, I am so proud of you for running a marathon that I almost burst from the swell of it. I always knew you had it in you. Maybe one day I can....run....ah, who am I kidding. "We" don't run.
Al, your babies look like Little Women. My sister's boy is 8 months now. How time flies by like a cannon ball...
My father, 5 days before his 23rd wedding anniversary, and 13 days before his 76th birthday, has moved into an assisted living facility. His mind is....locked in dementia. My very strong stepmom has cared for him as well as anyone could have expected her to, but in the end the butcher knife episode and the gas-stove fright finally convinced her it was time. Surreal, talking to him now.
So anywhoozits -- It has been more than two years since our kindred souls met up in the same location, and I believe it's time. Ideas anyone? Love and miss you...... M
Friday, April 20, 2012
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
The Results are IN!
Ok, since Brady asked, I'll tell you. It was awesome! And since you aren't here to tell me enough with the details, I'll give you all of them! The most common advice we were given was to not start off fast. Our plan was to take the first almost 5 miles slow to warm up and prep for the first big hill. We were soon, I mean, within seconds, the dead last people. There were people ahead of us that looked like they wouldn't make it up a flight of stairs let alone a mile. It was humbling. But nothing beat the fast track to Shameville like the squeaking tires of the sweep cop car on our butts. That we hadn't quite prepared for. He had to pull over and wait for us as we hit the port-a-potties twice in less than 4 miles. He also stopped and picked up my gloves I dropped. (Nice guy!) I'm sure he thought we'd soon be riding in the back. By 4, we were no longer the last people. At 4.7 right before the big hill, we thought to ask the time when we took the next turn. It'd been OVER an hour. Neither of us can remember the exact time, but we couldn't believe we were running under 5 miles an hour! Slower than I'd ever run. That was the one oversight. Lacking experience, lacking a knowledge of real pacing, we should have kept a cell phone for time to calculate our pace. This was the last sign we had of our pacing and time until the timer at the finish line. We had no choice but to pick up our pace a little even up the hill sooner than we had planned.
It was a steep hill and then a slight uphill climb until almost mile 7. Then we knew we had a flat way until mile 10, and a water stop at mile 8 with my sister and girls (where one of them would hand me a tiny bottle of gatorade I'd filled earlier). At mile 7, "It Takes Two" came on my iPod and pumped up my pace. I felt incredible! Strong, no pain, sure we had it in the bag, and it was time to make up our pace. I whoohooed and sang a little. We decided it was our run theme song. That was my best epic mile. I even had to reign it in a few times to stay with my friend (that wouldn't happen again!). When I saw my sister and girls holding out water, calling out to me, I teared up. I wanted to stop and hug them! Instead I called to my daughter after I passed her and gave a big arms up "whoohoo!" I think the next mile was the longest of the run. Unchanging scenery and elevation that seemed neverending. Between mile 9 and 10 was when I first felt soreness in my legs and asthma in my lungs. But I knew we had it. We just had to roll back after mile 10 to prepare for the challenging final 2 miles. With nearly 2 miles to go we turned onto our final road and into a strong head wind that would accompany us to the end. Soon we were mounting the MILE long hill we knew was our Everest. The first half mile was STEEP. The wind was blowing cold and dirt in our faces, we tucked in and went, knowing the crest we could see offered false hope as it only led to another half mile slightly less steep hill. But we felt good, we had paced knowing this was coming.
When we hit the actual top with another half mile to go, one of my friends pulled up in a pick up and yelled out the window, "You F****ing did it!" And soon we would. We had a valley to go down and then a small hill to the turn of the end. That small hill was the hardest part of the whole run for me. We were running hell bent for leather to try and overcome a woman who was walking (we had succeeded in passing anyone who had walked in our view), she had another friend join her and picked up her pace as we struggled to finish ours. I experienced finish line blindness as I crested that hill and turned down into the finish, running right by a line of friends and family waiting for me, including my father. I could only see the time sign as I pounded under it, 2:25. I couldn't believe it! I expected my time to be close to 3, and with a start that slow and long, I would never have expected that time, slow as it is to anyone who actually runs for time. Our friends and my family came down to us and hugs and pictures ensued as I tried to inhale a muffin and as much water as I could. I was moved that so many people had come out to support me. I felt amazing for about an hour. Then reality started hitting inch by painful inch. I realized that I had never asked anyone advice on what to do AFTER a race. We made it though. My friend fared better than I did, even though I trained approximately four times as much as she did. I try not to be bitter!
A few times while I was running, I was overwhelmed by what I was accomplishing for myself. I teared up as I did when I saw my girls. I had a mantra when this happened, you can't start crying now, you need the salt and water!! The final time was when I was conquering the final hill and "Dog Days are Over" came on my iPod. I think if I had actually seen my father, sister, and children all sitting there when I ran to the finish line, I would have finished sobbing. Instead, thanks to a major endorphin rush, I finished smiling and smiling and smiling.
Today, I am still sore and recovering and a little bit wondering, "Now what?" It was a great experience, it's amazing what you can do when you dare to challenge yourself out of your comfort zone. I'm glad that I did, and I plan to keep on doing it. I think the best reward was not when my daughter posted "You were amazing! I was so proud of you!" on my FB wall, but when I saw it in her eyes.
It was a steep hill and then a slight uphill climb until almost mile 7. Then we knew we had a flat way until mile 10, and a water stop at mile 8 with my sister and girls (where one of them would hand me a tiny bottle of gatorade I'd filled earlier). At mile 7, "It Takes Two" came on my iPod and pumped up my pace. I felt incredible! Strong, no pain, sure we had it in the bag, and it was time to make up our pace. I whoohooed and sang a little. We decided it was our run theme song. That was my best epic mile. I even had to reign it in a few times to stay with my friend (that wouldn't happen again!). When I saw my sister and girls holding out water, calling out to me, I teared up. I wanted to stop and hug them! Instead I called to my daughter after I passed her and gave a big arms up "whoohoo!" I think the next mile was the longest of the run. Unchanging scenery and elevation that seemed neverending. Between mile 9 and 10 was when I first felt soreness in my legs and asthma in my lungs. But I knew we had it. We just had to roll back after mile 10 to prepare for the challenging final 2 miles. With nearly 2 miles to go we turned onto our final road and into a strong head wind that would accompany us to the end. Soon we were mounting the MILE long hill we knew was our Everest. The first half mile was STEEP. The wind was blowing cold and dirt in our faces, we tucked in and went, knowing the crest we could see offered false hope as it only led to another half mile slightly less steep hill. But we felt good, we had paced knowing this was coming.
When we hit the actual top with another half mile to go, one of my friends pulled up in a pick up and yelled out the window, "You F****ing did it!" And soon we would. We had a valley to go down and then a small hill to the turn of the end. That small hill was the hardest part of the whole run for me. We were running hell bent for leather to try and overcome a woman who was walking (we had succeeded in passing anyone who had walked in our view), she had another friend join her and picked up her pace as we struggled to finish ours. I experienced finish line blindness as I crested that hill and turned down into the finish, running right by a line of friends and family waiting for me, including my father. I could only see the time sign as I pounded under it, 2:25. I couldn't believe it! I expected my time to be close to 3, and with a start that slow and long, I would never have expected that time, slow as it is to anyone who actually runs for time. Our friends and my family came down to us and hugs and pictures ensued as I tried to inhale a muffin and as much water as I could. I was moved that so many people had come out to support me. I felt amazing for about an hour. Then reality started hitting inch by painful inch. I realized that I had never asked anyone advice on what to do AFTER a race. We made it though. My friend fared better than I did, even though I trained approximately four times as much as she did. I try not to be bitter!
A few times while I was running, I was overwhelmed by what I was accomplishing for myself. I teared up as I did when I saw my girls. I had a mantra when this happened, you can't start crying now, you need the salt and water!! The final time was when I was conquering the final hill and "Dog Days are Over" came on my iPod. I think if I had actually seen my father, sister, and children all sitting there when I ran to the finish line, I would have finished sobbing. Instead, thanks to a major endorphin rush, I finished smiling and smiling and smiling.
Today, I am still sore and recovering and a little bit wondering, "Now what?" It was a great experience, it's amazing what you can do when you dare to challenge yourself out of your comfort zone. I'm glad that I did, and I plan to keep on doing it. I think the best reward was not when my daughter posted "You were amazing! I was so proud of you!" on my FB wall, but when I saw it in her eyes.
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Run Slow (L)
I'm running my first half-marathon tomorrow. Could double as my last, who knows? I don't. I've never done one. I think that's clear. Furthest I've gone in training is 10 miles. I'll let you know if I make it back. This course been described by seasoned marathoners as "rugged" and "challenging." Makes me wonder what the heck I'm up to. Would either of you ever thought I'd be attempting to run 13.1 miles without someone with a gun chasing me? I remember when I first tore my ACL thinking, "Thank goodness, I'll never have to run again." I'm not an athlete. In fact, doing athletic things is the first time in my life when I wish I wasn't what people describe as "long and lean" because people assume I am athletic. They think I'm fast. I look like a runner, I look like a swimmer, I have little fat on me, people expect I am fast. I am not large, but I am fighting weakness. I was shaped into weakness. My siblings called me "Rat Retard Refugee Runt" when I was little. I was scrawny and always topped with low blood sugar. That was before the surgery that took a tumor the size of a grapefruit off of lungs and spine. Scraping off that tumor left some scars on my lungs that add a challenge to my life, and for the past 8 years asthma. I can remember being afraid to exercise, I remember the pain when I would cough.
I'm not exactly how I ended up here. But 9 weeks ago when someone sent me the link to this inaugural run, the furthest I had ever run was about 3 miles. Someone else sent me a novice training plan, and I decided to try it. Why not? I could quit the training anytime and no one would be the wiser. At about mile 6 on the long runs, my friend decided to join me. I mostly trained alone but for that long run. At 7.5 I decided to sign up with her. Every time I increased that long run, I was in awe. Wow, I just ran that far? I just ran 7 miles? I was the kid bent over dry heaving after the presidential mile run in school they made us do for P.E. When I finished my first 10 miles, I was hooting and cheering myself on, luckily I was alone on a deserted bike path. I got another 10 under my belt, SLOW. But tomorrow will be the first 13.1. And the first 11, the first 12...Each time I run, something new hurts. I guess it's better than the same thing hurting. I plan to work on form after I finish this, assuming I finish this oneinjury free.
It's interesting to try new challenges. Having by nature always been a fearful person, it's feels so refreshing and healthy. I like making my body do new things, learn new shapes. Maybe it will stop shooting out new shapes of cancer and tumors if I give it something else to do.
One of my favorite running songs is "Dog Days are Over" by Florence and the Machine. I run a little faster on the line "Run fast for your mother and fast for your father, run for you children, your sisters and your brothers." I feel like I'm doing that every time I run. My brother was the first to run, I'm taking it over for awhile until he's back in form. I'll try and get my sister on the road slowly. I have the eyes for my father, the body for my mother. I'm doing what they never got the chance to do. I'm hoping my children are noticing me doing new things and it gives them the courage to do the same. I run, not because I am fast or good, but because I can.
I'm not exactly how I ended up here. But 9 weeks ago when someone sent me the link to this inaugural run, the furthest I had ever run was about 3 miles. Someone else sent me a novice training plan, and I decided to try it. Why not? I could quit the training anytime and no one would be the wiser. At about mile 6 on the long runs, my friend decided to join me. I mostly trained alone but for that long run. At 7.5 I decided to sign up with her. Every time I increased that long run, I was in awe. Wow, I just ran that far? I just ran 7 miles? I was the kid bent over dry heaving after the presidential mile run in school they made us do for P.E. When I finished my first 10 miles, I was hooting and cheering myself on, luckily I was alone on a deserted bike path. I got another 10 under my belt, SLOW. But tomorrow will be the first 13.1. And the first 11, the first 12...Each time I run, something new hurts. I guess it's better than the same thing hurting. I plan to work on form after I finish this, assuming I finish this oneinjury free.
It's interesting to try new challenges. Having by nature always been a fearful person, it's feels so refreshing and healthy. I like making my body do new things, learn new shapes. Maybe it will stop shooting out new shapes of cancer and tumors if I give it something else to do.
One of my favorite running songs is "Dog Days are Over" by Florence and the Machine. I run a little faster on the line "Run fast for your mother and fast for your father, run for you children, your sisters and your brothers." I feel like I'm doing that every time I run. My brother was the first to run, I'm taking it over for awhile until he's back in form. I'll try and get my sister on the road slowly. I have the eyes for my father, the body for my mother. I'm doing what they never got the chance to do. I'm hoping my children are noticing me doing new things and it gives them the courage to do the same. I run, not because I am fast or good, but because I can.
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