Yesterday, after a week off of all exercise due to illness, I ran the Celtic Solstice 5 miler in Druid Lake Park. I approached this race with trepidation and anticipation. Trepidation, in that I knew I was quite under-trained. Anticipation, in the hopes that this under-training would provide fresh and fast legs. I also presented this race to myself as a coin flip; do well and keep running, do poorly and reassess the possibility of “retirement”. Well, someone out there wants me to keep running because it was a great day. Yes, the course is incredibly forgiving; flat after mile 1 with a huge downhill finish, but I was able to be a game day player. I was able to run a consistent pace for 5 miles with negative splits (again, downhill finish), and I was able to fight through the gunk in my chest and the side stitches that started at mile 3 and get through the race in a respectable time. It was not the fastest in the field or the slowest, but it was a validation. A validation that despite my waist size, inconsistent training, terrible fall, and wonky gait that I am supposed to do this running thing. It was a validation that while I am not the fastest in my small circle of running “people”, I am also not the slowest. This race, however, like many that I have run in my short running life of five years, is a bit of a carrot. It dangles in front of me and says, “look what you can do when you sit on your rear and eat donuts! What could you do if you actually put effort into it?” So now I as the holidays draw closer and the holiday cheerful food sits before me on a regular basis, I ponder my options. For the rest of today, I bask in the glow of being a game day player, despite a month of inconsistency.

Celtic Solstice 5 miler. 37:29 (7:50, 7:30, 7:30, 7:30, 6:55) Woo Hoo!

I love my job. I love teaching children about music. Leading them to new experiences with singing, playing instruments, and epiphany’s while listening to great works…it is thrilling and soul feeding.

However, when a teacher is sick, particularly this teacher 5 days away from the big holiday concert, there is no respite. For teachers, taking the time to obtain a substitute and having to write lessons plans when ill makes the illness all that much worse.

Today just happened to be one of those days. I was really lucky that my kids were dreams and focused really hard while I struggled with a negative reaction to my cold/cough remedy and still had the cold….gosh, I’m lucky.

It’s funny. In the 28 months I worked away from a school environment, I was sick one time. Literally, three weeks before I left San Diego, I was sick for three days, one time. Alas, working in the human petri dish that is any school and you are bound to contract all kinds of lovely things. Our current school epidemic has run its course through 3rd and 5th grade, both of which I teach! We wash, we sanitize, we drink water, and we use kleenex and lysol, but what are we to do, it is part of the joy of our jobs. No, really, the red noses and bleery eyes of children with colds just make them all that more endearing. And, being the teacher of elementary children, they are incredibly empathetic to their sick teachers.

So yes, it is frustrating going to school sick and fighting through to be engaging, inspiring, and caring when all you want to do is go under the covers, but seeing the smiling faces and hearing them sing their hearts out made it worth it.

It was cold. I purposely did not turn on the tv to see how cold because I knew it would deter me. I arose at 4:30 am, layered up in wicking yet supposedly warm clothes and headed to MM’s for our run. We made an agreement that I would run the first 12 of her 18 miles this morning before work…yes, before work. So we ran two loops and completed 12.5 miles in 1 hour and 59 minutes. Most of me was cold most of the time, but my feet, thanks to my new smartwool socks, were toasty. The rest of me is still recovering from the cold 12 hours later. Why you ask? Oh yes, because it was 22 degrees with snow and ice on the ground. Crazy? Maybe a little, but man did my endorphins run all day.

It felt great and validated why I love running long distances, plus, catching up with my pal makes 12 miles go by pretty fast. (Or if could be she is just an awesome pacer) either way, it was great.

I write from my red chair tonight contemplating where I shall go this year (well, technically next) with my running/athletic life. This summer/fall training and racing season behind me and one full month past since my 2nd marathon, I find myself completely uninterested at the prospect of another round of training. Perhaps this is the post-marathon slump, but after watching my PR plummet by over 20 minutes this season, I wonder why am I still doing this?

I feel as though I have disappointed everyone who knows me with my poor performances. I feel as though all those with whom I train have thoroughly surpassed my ability and while they challenge me; I feel I bring them down or prevent them from doing their best.

I am at a crossroads where I need to make commitments to:
A. Run another marathon and run my tail off to bring my decent times back?
B. Run a marathon for fun (as NYC was) and just enjoy the training?
C. Just continue running for fitness and overall health?
D. Bag the distance thing and stick to sprint triathlons?

I do not want this to be the end of five years of running, but I need some kind of fresh start.

I do believe that I am not the only teacher (or kid) in the DC metro area that will be wearing her pj’s on inside out tonight. The day-long snow was Rockwell-esque as I gazed outside my 2nd floor window out to the trees and observed our youngest children, just age 5, frolicking out in the first snowfall.

It was cold, dismissal duty miserably wet, and the drive home rough, but as I saw my dog rejoicing in the four inches of white powder in the backyard, all was made well again.

Hope the cocoa makings are in the pantry and that channel 4 gives me good news tomorrow.

A video I have created to begin my presentation on curriculum theorist and educator Carl Glickman. I created it to churn the thoughts of my classmates about the way we teach (or do not teach) democracy and the democratic process in today’s schools.

It is hard to truly put into words my experience over the weekend. Running the NYC Marathon for Team Hole in the Wall has now secured it’s place among the top life-changing experiences that I encountered. I have followed the “goings-on” of this camp for several years now and have been touched by the stories and excited about the mission. I even considered changing my career path completely to apply for a job at Camp Painted Turtle a few years ago. I have never been good at fundraising, so I did not take on this cause lightly. And while my fundraising will never be called spectacular, running for this team has made an incredible impact on me.

This place, this amazing place. This place where children go to escape the day to day elements of their pain and suffering and become regular kids. Where they meet children like them, who truly understand what they are going through. Where they are treated with love, respect, and share laughter, tears, and if not physical healing, at least a sense of mental healing from their anguish. The amazing support the families receive, both during camp and in the months and years that follow. This place, this amazing place.

And I, but for a brief few hours, became a part of this amazing place. I became one with the people who spend their life’s work with these children. These incredible individuals whose passion and dedication is evident in everything they do. They are mission focused, love and laughter, to help kids with serious illness. I can think of no better purpose than this….

The Hole in the Wall Gang Executive Director, Jimmy Canton, shared his favorite quote with our team:

“This is the true joy in life … being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one … being a force of Nature instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy … I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the whole community and as long as I live it is my privilege to do for it whatever I can. I want to be thoroughly used up when I die. For the harder I work the more I live. I rejoice in life for its own sake. Life is no brief candle to me. It’s a sort of splendid torch which I’ve got to hold up for the moment and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing on to future generations.”–George Bernard Shaw

This quote stuck with me through every mile of the marathon. For in every small twinge of pain, for in every moment of mental cloudiness, I returned my thoughts to camp. I kept my mind focused on the child whom we “met” through the camp DVD. This child, whose life was changed so profoundly by HITWGC that when he passed away, he declared it, “passing through the hole in the wall.” It is this image that I cannot, even two days later, remove from my mind. This child, who found joy and peace through a week at camp, and support and love as he passed through the hole in the wall to his death. How can one not be changed forever by this image?

In a moment of star-struck awe we listened as Mr. Newman spoke to us and gave us the encouragement to “raise hell”. For that was his goal when he founded the camp 20 years ago, to build a place where children could laugh and raise a little hell. For all children deserve these opportunities regardless of their health. A child on the inside is joyous, brilliant, beautiful, strong, resilient, and hopeful no matter what the body is doing to take away that joy. Camp allows these children to be all of the things they are and should be able to be. What the body takes away, camp gives back.

Usually after a marathon, I pick apart the mile splits and discuss how I felt at what mile and how I could have changed this or that. I usually beat myself up for a slow time or for not pushing hard enough. But this is not like that. Running this race, running in this town, running for these children was the best, most exhilerating marathon I have ever run and I will not soon, nor perhaps ever, be able to replicate an experience such as this. The race course was certainly not easy but with millions of fans shouting my name and with each shout, I remembered that name was written above the name of my TEAM. Every time someone passed me, they were able to see the names of the generous benefactors that helped me support the cause of a child. They are the true heroes, for I simply had to run a marathon, they had to part with their material worth to help a child with serious illness.

I hope that I can continue to be an ambassador for this camp, for these children. I have felt as though a new mission has been created within me. That somewhere God has stirred my heart to take strong look at my ability to advocate for these children, to be a part of this camp in a greater way. Perhaps, it is residual glow from the experience of this race and these amazing people. Perhaps, it is exhaustion that has yet to be refreshed manifesting itself into a desire to be something different. Perhaps it is the still, small voice calling through the hole in the wall. Regardless of its origin, I can only hope that as the days away from this experience grow longer, that I will not soon forget its impact, nor ever forget these kids.

For the last two or so years, I have been agreed with many that Lance Armstrong has achieved amazing sport success and is an inspiration to those who have conquered cancer. But I have not been super comfortable with his personal life choices, particularly being a frequent reader of his ex-wife Kristen’s blog However, last night I attended 10-The Event, a celebration of 10 years of the Ulman Cancer Fund for Young Adult and my feelings have been changed.

Over 1000 supporters of UCF and fans of Lance attended a great reception, dinner, and auction to raise funds for the UCF programs for young adults stricken with cancer. The foundation was founded by Doug Ulman, who is currently the president of LAF. His story and the story of his family is absolutely amazing. Recently, the foundation has created a partnership with IronGirl, which is close to my heart. Cancer survivors young and old, supporters rich and average told their stories and were awarded plaques from the UCF to celebrate their success. County Executive Ken Ulman, brother of Doug, announced with celebration that Howard County would now be providing health care to all citizens, regardless of their insurance coverage. Governor O’Malley spoke to audience and extolled the virtues of the UCF and also of the need for more comprehensive health care initiatives, one of his successes in Maryland.

The pinnacle of the evening was, of course, a speech by Lance Armstrong. He and the UCF founder, Doug, have known each other for ten years when both of them were fighting and surviving their own cancer battles. Lance was articulate, passionate, funny, and thoughtful. He spoke as though he were speaking to around the dinner table, rather than to 1000+ paying guests and dignitaries. Yes, he has spoken in front of large audiences and cameras for a long time, but he is not a glossed over talking head. He has learned everything that he possible needs to know about cancer so that he can use his celebrity for good. He is not interested in selling his brand of cycling gear, or doing a bunch of for-profit commercials. He wants a cure for cancer. He wants those fighting cancer and those who have survived to be supported. His short fifteen minute speech was enough to make me a believer in his cause and proud to have shared a space with him.

For more information:
Lance Armstrong Foundation
Ulman Cancer Fund for Young Adults

Two days ago I ran the Twin Cities Marathon It was the hottest October 9th on historical record in Minneapolis/St. Paul. We knew as soon as we walked out the hotel room door that it was going to be a warm day. Who knew that it could be 77 degrees at 8 am in October in Minnesota? Who could have imagined that it would be 85 degrees with extensive humidity by 10am? And what kind of lunatic would go ahead and run a marathon in that weather? Yours truly and my DH of course!

I set off with lofty goals of that ever looming BQ time, 3:40. The RP and I had trained so hard to try to maintain this pace and then hopefully at least salvage something under 3:50. But alas, the weather got the best of me. Come mile 13 came stomach cramps, nausea, quad cramps, and a lack of mental clarity. Past me went the 3:40 pacer, the 3:50, the 4:00…..and around mile 20 the 4:15. The amazing, fantastic, caring, and gracious TC residents provided hoses of water, extra salty and sweet treats, music, cheers, and general joy as me and 7500 close friends held on for dear life for 26.2 miles. As I was walk-running my last four miles, I made a determination to run the last mile w/o walking and to pass the darn guys dressed as beer bottles (seriously? how were they not dying of heat). I made that goal and finished in my worst time in three years, 4:22. 42 minutes off my goal. Reading blogs later that night and on Monday, it appeared that many were in my same predicament.

But…..we had water at every stop and our course was not closed early. Running colleagues in Chicago, facing the same weather conditions, did not have enough water and many were diverted off the course and after months of agonizing training, not allowed to finish the entire marathon. Two runners, in Chicago and D.C. doing the Army 10, perished in the heat of the races. We, in Minneapolis/St. Paul, were blessed with no deaths and an amazing EMS crew that cared for 250 participants who were brought to local hospitals for various illness, many heat related.

At the end of the day, DH, several friends, and I were able to finish a marathon. A feat we had trained for since July. We were blessed as the Lord saw fit to help us cross safely and without any major health problems.

I am counting my blessings this day for the safety I experienced, for the crowds who gave of themselves for us, and for a city who embraced us.

For the last several years, the two weeks that are the most dreaded during the year are the two that lead up to the marathon. After months of training, in snow or heat, running long and hard, the two weeks of rest and easy running leading to the race day are possibly the worst. In the next two weeks, I will dramatically cut my mileage and speed yet continue to eat the normal amount. This leads to feeling slightly sluggish, lead legged, and then, in turn, leads to many psychosomatic symptoms and delusions of grandeur with regard to one’s upcoming race.

So I will point out the facts to attempt to distinguish any delusions with regard to my current fitness status.

The facts: I did over do my last 20 miler and now have nagging pain in my calf and foot. I have purchased and worn new shoes and insoles to try and remedy the problem. I’m also on ice, a lot.

The facts: I trained really well with my RP this season. We ran hard and fast in the heat, in the rain, and in the really early morning. We did 3 20’s (she did 4) and numerous high mileage LR’s as well as speedy fast times round that track. We have trained with a lofty goal and we have stayed pretty well focused.

The facts: I train on rolling hills, Minneapolis Minnesota does not have said hills thereby giving me a slight muscular endurance advantage. And the mental tenacity to conquer the “giant” long slow grade at mile 20.

The facts: I really want to do well this time round. I would very much like to reach my lofty goal so I can slow the heck down and enjoy and savor my running.

In the next two weeks, I will think I’m fat and slow. I will have weird pains as my muscles recover from 16 weeks of beatings. I will have trouble sleeping. I may not get over this pain in my foot. But, I will still approach the starting line in Minneapolis well trained and well rested.

If only that could come so much faster than 14 days.

Peace.