I am FULL.

I penciled in a 3:30pm run today and all throughout the day I kept a "running" list of excuses as to why 3:30pm was not a good time to run . . .

1) I am tired
2) I didn't eat enough
3) It would get dark
4) It is cold out
5) I already ran this week . . . twice.
6) I am tired
7) I have too much work to do
8) I should do chores
9) I already have a lot of laundry to do
10) I need to buy a turkey for Thanksgiving
11) Man, I am tired
12) I just want to be hang out
13) I might be late for my 5pm call
14) It's not worth it if I don't run more than 3 miles
15) I have 2 races this week . . . I am fine
16) Gosh . . . could I be more tired?

And on . . . and on . . . and on . . . and on . . . and then I put on my running clothes and walked out the door . . . only 17 minutes behind schedule.

I wanted an easy, mellow run so Missy Higgins was the artist of choice . . . and trust me I understand the oddity of running to Missy Higgins. 

It didn't take long for me to feel that unbelieveable feeling that only running brings . . . the disconnect of mind and body that leaves me wondering how my appendages can move when my mind has no concious awareness or thought to keep doing just that. 

While Missy sang I watched the cool, cloudy sunset turning blazing orange, then purple.  At several points the only way I could describe myself was thank-FULL.  Thankful for my health.  Thankful for my sole sisters near and far.  Thankful for my body's ability to move.  Thankful for my grandpa who sent me a sweet email this morning.  Thankful for my sister who has decided to try running because my attempt at doing so is apparently inspiring.  Thankful for my husband who is so patient as I fall in and out of love with exercise.  Thankful for my clothes that keep me warm.  Thankful for the streets I can run on while feeling safe.  Thankful for my job that gives me the flexibility to run while the sun comes up or run while the sun goes down.  Thankful for my dad who taught me to appreciate the little things that often seem mundane.  Thankful for my dog who would greet me upon my return even if
I crawled home.  Thankful that self-doubt propelled me to prove myself wrong through simply putting one foot in front of the the other.

Running makes me feel FULL . . . thank FULL, FULL of life, FULL of energy, FULLy alive.  I realized today that not running also leaves me full . . . of excuses.  And because I abandoned the long list typed above I am ending my day completely thankFULL.

. . . I can travel back in time!

Yep . . . you read right.  While scientists and folks far smarter than me have spent time, resources, and energy trying to defy time, I have figured out how to travel right back to Memorial Day of 2009, a boat on Blue Mesa with my grandparents, a Matt Nathanson concert in Boulder circa 2008, and a grueling spin class at Miramont Fitness in Fort Collins on a Monday night at 6:00pm over three years ago.  How you ask?

BECAUSE I RUN!

And not only because I run, but because I train, fundraise and ask friends and family to donate to causes I find worthy.  While on a run last week, I played the playlist from a race I did last May.  This was the first time I had asked for songs contributions.  A year later, the songs that played brought back incredibly vivid memories of the people that suggested said songs, as well as memories of songs themselves.

*Memorial Day 2009 - Katy Perry and Snoop Dog, "California Girls": Bolder Boulder 2009, last leg of the race, new Nike shorts on, i-pod mark sweated into my spray tan, my first race alone, a mix of emotions about being a runner, being on my own, no one at the finish line, a time in my life where I finally found my independence but didn't realize it because I was so angry at so many people for "leaving me".  I can hear the rumble of fans at Folsom Field greeting runners as they entered to finish the end of the race around the track.  I round a corner headed toward the fans to face a HUGE hill.  Steep.  I am tired.  I want to be done.  I am angry.  I am proud.  I own that hill.  I weave in and out of sweaty runners.  I top the hill.  I head into the stadium.  Finish the race.  Set a PR.  One of my proudest moments.  Thanks, Snoop.

*Blue Mesa, August 2010 - Credence Clearwater Revival, "Proud Mary": A beautiful driving day headed to Gunnison, spitting sunflower seeds out my window headed to see two of my favorite people in the world: O'pa and O'ma.  My first trip to their new home.  Dessert with new neighbors.  Fishing, yet no fish.  Storms "rollin, rollin, rollin on the river".  Captain O'pa beating the storm to shore.  Ebelskivers for breakfast.  Crockpot cooking all day.  Memories coming to life down Pleasant Street in Canton, MA two years later.

*Matt Nathanson Concert, Circa 2008, "Faster": Grad school sucked, but Aly Wallberg was a God send in that dark time.  So was her love for Matt Nathanson.  Now it's my love too.  Man that guy is wonderful.  A sore throat.  A lost voice.  An amazing time.  A friend for life.  "You make my heart beat faster!"

*A grueling spin class (my first EVER!), circa 2008 - Rihanna, "Pon de Replay": "It goes 1 by 1 even 2 by 2/everybody on the floor let me show you how we do. . . ." Ms. Gael singing along while pedaling to the beat.  Me in the corner.  Thighs literally on fire.  Gael keeping me going.  " I can't" running through my head.  But I can!  "Turn the music up!"

A walk down memory lane.  Reconnecting with faces and friends who I don't see often, but think of frequently.  Scientists should get out of the lab, and get on the streets.  There they will find the secret to traveling back in time.  It is quite easy!

. . . I have made new friends.

This post is dedicated to my running SOLE mate . . . Nicole Schutte.  Nicole was an intern at ACS and sadly (maybe only for me and Helen!) went back to school on Wednesday.  On her first day, she was a timid college student anxiously awaiting a semester of free labor.  PS  She worked way to hard for free!  The first conversation I remember having with Nicole was about running.  It came up that I was running a half marathon as she too is a runner . . . much more avid and dedicated than I!  She was running a race the same weekend as my half . . . bummer!  I thought I would have a buddy!

Turns out . . . I did . . . and do!  Our conversations frequently ventured to the topic of running and like me, she understands running to be more than cardio exercise and putting one foot in front of the other.  After two ACL replacements, she isa runner even though doctors told her she shouldn't run.  A resident of Maine, she lived in Boston for the summer and frequently took to the streets in the wee hours of morning to squeeze in a daily run. 

Another early memory I have of Nicole Schutte is our initial training when we had to draw our personal story.  Turns out, she is a much better doodler than I!  We had to draw out something other's didn't know about us and she drew an awesome stick figure crossing a finish line.  She told our team, "I am a runner!"  I envied those words a little . . . at that point I didn't qualify myself as such. 

As the months went on Nicole became much more than an intern.  She was the most avid supporter of my running blog and helped me come up with ideas, talk out wacky connections, and understood my overanalytic self.  We compared notes, aches, pains, mileage, and sweat.  She inspired me, encouraged me, and believed in me.  For that, I am forever grateful!  At ACS, I found my SOLE mate and this summer marks the time that we both were inducted to the 13.1 club!  Watch out, our medals are pretty bad ass!

What Nicole probably does not know is that she was really the first new "friend" I met since moving here.  Sounds way third grade, right?!  But really . . . until Nicole and I began chatting about running, college, work, and life I really only interacted with family and Cooper.  This is not to say or suggest that those people aren't wonderful and I don't thoroughly enjoy the time I spend with them, but it was nice to feel like I was finally settling in here in Mass and able to connect with and meet new people!

I am eternally grateful that I had such a rock star intern, and now have an amazing friend!  While I am beyond bummed that Nicole is back in South Carolina for school, I am excited for a new vacation spot and an upcoming private tour of Maine!  On her last day, Nicole gave me a book titled, "To Be a Runner".  I am in love so far . . . here is why . . .

Martin Dugard says these things about running (mind you I am on page 3 of this book . . . that's right . . . I have only read the prologue!!!)

To be a runner is to learn continual life lessons . . . The very act of surpassing
personal limits in training and racing will bend the mind and body toward
a higher purpose . . . settling for mediocrity - settling for good enough - becomes
less and less of an option.  And with so many people in the world all too happy
to bask in mediocrity - settling instead of pushing - those who learn to be the
best version of themselves know the secret to a full life (Dugard, 2011, p. xv).

So Miss Nicole, thank you for embarking on my running journey with me.  More importantly, thanks for being a dear friend, supporter, and encourager.  Funny that the journey of running is really the journey of life!  I am so glad to have found a SOLE mate in you!  BECAUSE I RUN, I have made new friends and I am so glad that you are one of them!  Is it October 2nd yet?!  <3

. . . I embrace hidden messages.

Hidden message #1:  MY PLAYLIST 

One of my new favorite things to do is have friends and family pick my playlist before a race.  It's a good reminder that while my feet run the course, I am not alone.  Yesterday's play list worked out quite well!  See for yourself . . .

Track 1: Faster - Matt Nathanson (Funny that I started out to this song, as it came from my dear friend Aly.  She was the first person in grad school who I told about my dad and I later learned that her dad also died from cancer.  It was so fitting to begin my 13.1 miles with her in my head and on my heart.  I know there are two proud papas smiling down from heaven!)

Track 4-ish: New Shoes - Paolo Nutini (Sent to me from Uncle Bobby . . . like me, she loves the "Soundtracks of Life".  This song began (literally!!!) as I ran right into a HUGE puddle after spending so much time trying to dodge them.  It was pouring yesterday and I was trying to salvage my shoes as long as possible.  No luck there!)

5K mark-ish: Reach - S Club 7 (My new and dear friend Helen (my carpool buddy!!) sent this song and it was first time I snapped out of zone and actually heard something . . . I don't think she knows the significance of this stanza but it was much needed and so appreciated)

Follow your hearts desire
Reach for the stars
And when that rainbow's shining over you
That's when your dreams will all come true

Finishing track: I'll Meet You There - Owl City (The closing stanza is how I ended and it could not be more perfect . . .  a nice reminder that while I would not give my dad a high five at the finish, he was still there beaming!)

                                                                You could be anywhere                                                                   I'll meet you there                                                               You could be anywhere                                         Open your eyes and see everything you can be                                                                    I'll meet you there  Hidden message #2: SILENCE Mile 10ish:  I had put my dad's band's CD on my playlist, but since I played it on random there was no telling when it would be on.  I was getting frustrated because I felt like I would hear his voice when I needed it.  I was yelling at him in my head . . . screaming in fact.  "Dad, where the hell are you?!  I am almost done and I have felt/seen very little of you!!!"  My Ipod stopped.  Not at the end of a song.  Not a skip in the track.  It just stopped for a good five seconds and then carried on again.  Sometimes silence says everything.  My sister's favorite quote of my dad's . . . "The beauty of the unspoken thought."  Hidden message #3: JENNIE I started the race talking to a girl a little older than me who lost her mom to squamous cell carcinoma on June 8, 2011.  She too was a DetermiNation runner and the top fundraiser of our team raising over $5000.00!!!  Jennie was the first person I have ever talked to that knows what tongue cancer is, let alone known someone who has had it.  While I wish the fate of our parents was different, it was an honor and privilege meeting her.  Hidden message #4: VANISHING PAINThroughout my training program, I have had some knee issues.  Hills and stairs have caused some intense pain and around mile 9 this pain came on full force.  I thought about each ribbon on my shirt, each chemo drip that each ribbon represented, every radiation treatment, every hair lost, every tear shed, every broken heart, every *%^@!& cancer cell that took the lives of so many and suddenly, while cruising through a water station, my knee pain vanished and has not reappeared since.  What an army of angels I had with me!  Hidden message #5: MY JERSEYMy dad's picture.  Initially, I screenprinted this as a reminder that my dad was rooting me on, cheering for me.  As I approached the Seekonk River and was choked up by its beauty, I realized that my dad was also cheering on every person behind me.  This added to my sense of pride.  He knew, as he often did, that I had done what I needed to to prepare.  He was not worried about me, but instead focused his attention on the other people around me that may have needed a little push.  There is proof folks, his spirit lives on!

   Hidden message #6: THE NOT-SO-HIDDEN MESSAGE

 After sitting in HORRIBLE traffic today, my carpool buddy (HELEN!) and I decided to take our usual bad traffic detour.  For some reason, my GPS took us through Westwood, rather than Dedham Center.  I now know why.  A double rainbow over Westwood High School.  We drove toward this rainbow for a good 20 minutes.  Helen commented several times that she had never seen a rainbow so big and so bright.  My sister, my cousin, Cooper, my grandma, and many others admired this very rainbow.  A perfect conclusion to a wonderful weekend.  Icing on the cake.  Fire in my heart.  A smile across my face.  My dad is proud.  

. . . I am a runner and I am proud.



Well, I officially completed a half marathon.  As I have savored this accomplishment for most of today, I have come to realize that I have achieved something far greater than 13.1 miles.  As many of you know, my desire and drive to run yesterday was inspired by my dad.  He was the one person who believed I could do anything in the world . . . besides sing!  When I had completely given up, it was his voice on the phone, in the back of my head, screaming up the stairs that told me that I could accomplish anything I set my mind on.

Achieving anything, large or small, made my dad so proud.  Nothing made him happier than watching his three kids succeed.  Whether it was getting a good grade on a test, becoming friends with a new kid in town, getting a job, going to college, holding the door for someone, my dad swelled with pride when he watched his kids do good things.  Not only did he feel this way, he communicated these feelings each and every day.  I heard how proud my dad was of my literally five times a day.  Seems excessive, but it was always so genuine.  I lived for those words . . . "Elise, I am proud to be your dad."  Nothing made me happier and nothing made me push harder, faster, stronger.

Since my dad has died, pride is one feeling I had not yet felt.  For example, when I finished grad school I didn't know how to be proud of what I accomplished.  It just felt like finishing grad school was a reminder of who I didn't have in the audience, who would never read my thesis, who would be absent in family pictures.  I was mad.  There was a part of me that just didn't want to celebrate at all because ignoring it made it seem like I didn't have to face that my dad would not be present.

There have been little things along the way that I have struggled to feel proud of . . . moving across the country, starting a new job, taking risks on things that are important, standing up for what I believe in, asking for help when I need it.  Part of me wants to feel proud, but to even try reminds me how big my dad shaped hole is.  I am blessed to be surrounded by dozens of people who challenge, support, and love me.  These very people tell me they are proud quite often, but it just doesn't settle the same way.

Things changed yesterday.  As I ran along the streets of Providence, RI there was only one word to describe how I felt . . . proud.  For awhile, I could not even name the feeling that enveloped me.  At one point, I kept telling myself that it felt as though a beast was unleashed from within.  I did not know what came over me.  I just zoned out and ran.  I weaved in and out of people, my mind was free and clear, I savored every rain drop that landed on me (and there were MANY!), I just let loose.  I let go.  I just lived.  I savored.  I enjoyed.  I just was.

At one point (I can picture it exactly, but can't tell you where I was) it hit me.  I was so proud.  Upon this realization, I did not know what to do, so I just cried . . . some things will never change about me!  I was proud of the 200+ miles I ran training.  I was proud that I followed through on such a large commitment.  I was proud that my body was able and ready to take on such a feat.  I was proud that I didn't let the rain, the delayed start, the massive amounts of people, or any other obstacle stand in the way of what I set out to do.

As I concluded mile 11 and embarked on mile 12, I was overcome with emotion.  I saw the mile marker and got incredibly emotional.  It was then that I realized I was really going to finish the race.  I was ten minutes away from being a "half marathoner".  I was proud even though my dad's voice wasn't in my hear, his arms weren't hugging me, and his smile was not in a crowd of people reassuring me that I did well.  I was proud because I knew I earned my own pride, and more importantly, his.  I was proud because I decided to do something, I did it, and I did it well.  I was proud because I was finally able to feel my dad's pride within.  I was proud because he has been proud all along.

As I neared the finish, I was also proud because I am a runner.  I truly am.  Prior to yesterday's race, people often asked, "Oh, you're a runner?"  My response was always, "No, I just run."  I don't know why I could never fully embrace this identity.  I know runners.  They run rain or shine.  They are outfitted with matching shorts and shirts.  Their sneakers are always clean.  They apparently crave a "runner's high".  They get cranky when they can't "get a run in".  Their calves nicely toned.  Me . . . I just run.

Not anymore folks!  I am a runner.  And not because I have an extensive wardrobe of Reebok gear, run in the rain, or have new shoes.  I am a runner BECAUSE I RUN.  I am a runner because I enjoy the open road, the challenge of going faster, longer.  I am a runner because I have proved myself wrong.  Because I am a runner, I am proud.  I am proud of my first half marathon.  I am proud to be connected to and loved by so many amazing people.  I am proud that the runner in me raised nearly $2500.00 for an organization I love and believe in.  I am proud that each mile I ran was one step closer toward an end of cancer.  I am proud that I chose to run and be empowered by a period of my life that is still hard, overwhelming, and quite honestly sucks.  BECAUSE I RUN, I can transform tragedy to triumph.  BECAUSE I RUN, I have ignited the spark I have missed most from my dad . . . pride.  BECAUSE I RUN, I am one stinkin proud runner.

. . . my dad is with me.

Here is the jersey . . . all ready to be ribboned and run in!

. . . I have control.

I had the privilege of attending a luncheon today with the other DetermiNation team members for the Providence Rock N' Roll.  One of my team members is a cancer survivor himself . . . a year out of treatment in fact.  Like me dad, he too had head and neck cancer.  When training for a marathon he noticed a lump in his neck after recovering from a cold.  He went to his doctor who at first assumed lymphoma.  The next day he was diagnosed with Stage 4 aggressive cancer.  After intense treatment, including both radiation and chemotherapy, a feeding tube, and surgery he spoke in front of me today cancer free.

When undergoing treatment, he made the commitment to run three marathons within his first year of being cancer free.  He did that, and will be running a half in addition tomorrow.  As he told his story, he said that running was the only thing felt he had control over after being diagnosed with cancer.  While he couldn't begin logging miles immediately after treatment, he could commit to walk a block, and then two, and then run a block.  He said that in the midst of chaos, he felt he still had something that no one else could control. 

A big light bulb went off for me in this luncheon.  I was a mix of emotions as I still get angry when I encounter cancer survivors, especially those who had similar diagnoses as my dad.  I am admittedly selfish for these thoughts and while I would NEVER wish cancer upon anyone in the entire world, my first question when I meet someone like this gentleman is, "Why couldn't my dad have the same fate?  Why isn't he here to run with me tomorrow?  Why can't I be running in celebration, rather than memory and honor?"  You would think that after two years such thoughts would subside . . . for me they have not.

Anyway, back the light bulb . . . control.  I have found it funny that it has only been in the last few months that I have committed to running and stuck with it.  Now I know why.  In the last two years, I have been anything but in control of so many aspects of my life.  My dad was diagnosed with cancer, I went to grad school where I often felt at the mercy of others thoughts and ideas, my dad passed away, I moved across the country, I started a new job, etc.  A lot of change!  And often I feel as though I am in the middle of a tornado desperately seeking out something to hold onto.  In the end, I have to accept that a huge part of me thought I could control my dad's fate.  Two years later I am still trying to accept that I couldn't then, I can't now, and my lack to do so does not mean I didn't fight like hell and he didn't give it all he had.  I guess it's just hard to accept that you can fight that hard, hope that much, be that faithful, and still lose.

In the midst of such chaos and change, running is an anchor.  It provides time in my day that is only mine.  No matter how overwhelmed I feel, stressed out I am, or how much I want to give up, the streets I run remain consistent, predictable, and constant.  When I set out on a run, no one else gets to make requests, demands, suggestions, etc.  It's all mine.  I choose when to run, where to run, and how far to run.  I choose to further my mileage.  I choose to better my time.  It's all mine.  With my running shoes on my feet, it doesn't matter that my student loans are due, or that my job is not yet permanent, or that I miss home, or that I ate a cupcake for lunch, or that my sister and I are struggling through a disagreement.  Instead, it's a time for me to soak up the sun, lengthen my stride, and focus only on whether to do three miles or five, run easy or do intervals. 

During my lunch today it hit me . . . I don't necessarily LOVE running.  Instead, I love forgetting, escaping, and finding a place that it is all my own.  I can find that nowhere other than in my running shoes.  If you can believe it, it beats a bubble bath - not by much - I think it's only because my runs are longer than it takes for hot water to get cold! 

BECAUSE I RUN, I have control.  I have control over my choices, my decisions, and my perspective.  Running helps me remember the many things I don't have control over, but can enjoy anyway . . . the sun in sky, the rain in the clouds, the humidity in the air.  Running reengages my mind to savor the things that make me happy , and ignore the things that don't.  Running reminds me that bills will always be there, life will always be tough, challenges ebb and flow, and happiness is always up to you.  BECAUSE I RUN, I control my happiness and what it takes to achieve it, live it, and enjoy it.  When I run, I control putting one foot in front of the other, and often, that is enough to make me realize that everything will be okay.

There are clubs you can’t belong to, neighborhoods you won’t live in, schools you can’t get into, but the roads are always open. – JUST DO IT