With My Own Two Feet: August, September

AUGUST
Summer Showdown Run (Santa Monica, CA) - 6.2 miles

After two half marathons in two months and during one of the busiest months of the year for someone who works in Higher Education, it was time to check out the Rocket Racing Productions schedule.  But knowing that there was another big race coming up in just a month, this time I registered for the 10k.  Having done two of these runs already, I was familiar with the course.  The 10k option just meant doing two laps up and down the strand, rather than one.  And in month eight of my challenge, it was feeling much more commonplace to get up early on a weekend to run.  For fun.  And maybe because breakfast always tastes so much better having clocked some miles beforehand.

SEPTEMBER
Ragnar Napa Valley (San Francisco, CA - Calistoga, CA) - 2.7 miles, 6.7 miles, 3.3 miles

Something that I've learned over and over again from my year of running is how supportive the running community is.  Each race I've done, there is always someone who passes me, smiles and gives some type of encouragement along the way.  And unlike the younger version of myself, I welcome this encouragement.  A younger me probably would've felt inept because I was moving slowly and being passed by, or I would've wondered if the words of encouragement were coming from a place of pity.  But those were old thoughts coming from a place of insecurity.  Each passerby is just another runner who is on the same journey and knows just how incredible the accomplishment is.  And their words of encouragement come from a genuine place of knowing exactly how far support can take you.

Ragnar may be one of the best examples of this type of runner support.  The encouragement, support and laughter that you collect along each leg is truly inspiring.  And encouragement is contagious.  Before you know it, you find yourself offering the same support to others along the way.  My support of others during Ragnar Napa started before we even jumped into our vans in San Francisco.  As we were pulling together runners to create our next Ragnar team, I was excited to be joined again by my brother, my cousin Steffie and some of my closest friends.  But there was one newbie I had my sights on, and I was determined to get her to say yes: my cousin Jessica.

Jessica is only a year and a half younger than I am, and throughout the years, she has been both my dearest friend and my biggest enemy.  Like many family members, especially those who are close in age, we had our moments as children when it was inevitable for our time together to result in at least one fight.  But as we got older, those fights diminished, and all that was left was the love we have for each other.  And much like me, Jessica has had her own battle with low self esteem.  She has never fully believed how amazing she is.  But fortunately for her, I've never doubted it.  Knowing that she had recently started running, I started my campaign for her to join the team via text message, hoping she may be easy to sway.  But when she immediately resisted telling me she wasn't yet good enough to do a Ragnar, I picked up the phone.  She had to hear my voice to know how serious I was.  And all of the encouragement that came pouring out of my mouth were the same words that were used to convince me that I could do it.  And so, whether because she believed me or because she was tired of listening to me, she caved in and joined the team.  And as our van took off from the start line and inched closer to her first leg, she became increasingly nervous.  And when Anthony passed the slap bracelet on to her, we all watched as she dashed away.  Somewhere between those two exchanges, as she was running solo through the bay area, she fell in love.  She was hooked.  She was a Ragnarian.  I couldn't help but smile; not just because I was happy that she finally knew that she could do it, but also because I helped her get there.  And giving that gift to someone else is priceless.

Ragnar is definitely about the team.  With every pass of the slap bracelet, your love and affection for each other grows (even when patience thins and exhaustion sets in).  This time around, I was runner three, immediately following my brother.  And there are no words for how much it meant to me to be given a sweaty hug and kiss on the cheek by Philip each time I started my legs.  Talk about priceless.  And at the end of the race, our team found ourselves in the middle of Napa Valley.  What better way than to celebrate our accomplishment with a picnic at a vineyard.  And when you're surrounded by beautiful scenery and people you love, it's hard to feel anything other than complete.

With My Own Two Feet: February

FEBRUARY
Live Ultimate (Santa Monica, CA) - 6.2 miles
Ragnar Del Sol (Wittenburg, AZ - Tempe, AZ) - 4.6 miles, 5.7 miles, 5.5 miles

With the first month of my running challenge complete, I entered February with excited anticipation.  February meant that in addition to checking off the second month of my goal, it was time to tackle what seemed like the craziest of my runs: a Ragnar Relay.  But before Ragnar began, I had another finish line to cross.

In an effort to train for Ragnar, I registered for the Live Ultimate Run in Santa Monica.  We gathered at the start line by the ocean and when the buzzer sounded, we were off.  The course was fairly similar to the Christmas Run we had done in December, so with every bend in the road and slope of the course, I had an idea of what to expect.  This gave my mind time to wander.  I kept wondering where the name Live Ultimate came from, thinking that the first word was līv as in "this taping is live."  What I now know is that the word is actually lĭv, as in the opposite of die.  The idea behind the race series is to promote living your best life being passionate about health, balance and well-being.  As I crossed the finish line, I was doing just that.

Usually as the end of February nears, I am busy wondering how I will spend my birthday and what turning a year older will mean.  This year, I had an even bigger task to ponder: participating in my first Ragnar Relay.  I had first heard of Ragnar the previous fall when AJ and Anthony completed the Ragnar Napa Valley.  When they returned, they immediately said, "We have to do this!"  Anthony had already discovered that the Del Sol race was over our birthday weekend and both were convinced this is how we should celebrate.  I wasn't so sure.  Single races were one thing.  Creating a team of 12, sleeping in vans and running three legs over the course of 34 hours seemed like an insurmountable task.  At that time, I hadn't even run my first half marathon; how did we know I'd be able to do a Ragnar?  But fueled by a new confidence and knowing that I had the support of amazing friends (and truthfully excited for something to plan!), I agreed.

Creating a team.  Reserving vans.  Understanding the rules.  There was so much to do.  But if I was going on a crazy running adventure, the first thing I was sure of is that I wanted my brother by my side.  Fortunately, he's never one to turn down a good time (and maybe more fortunately, this actually sounded like a good time to him), he was easy to convince.  Quickly, the team fell in place, and I had fun creating a blog to keep us informed each step of the way.

It's hard to fully explain how much fun it is to do a Ragnar because every detail you share just makes it sound more and more crazy.  Sleeping in a van.  Running three times in 34 hours, including in the middle of the night.  Not showering.  Sharing a sweaty slap bracelet.  And you have to pay to do it?!?!  What could be more appealing?  And as I took off on my first leg, I still wasn't sure what I had gotten myself into.  Unlike other races, this isn't just about me.  If I needed to walk, it meant holding up our next runner.  If I was grumpy or tired, there was no where to hide but the next row of the van.  This was a true blend of individual and team effort.  But as I was chugging along that first leg, and I turned the corner to see my van and teammates cheering me on, my heart swelled with love.  It gave me energy.  And when I got to the exchange where I got to pass the slap bracelet on to Elyse - Elyse, with whom I had come so far - from supervisor/supervisee to friends to family; from Massachusetts to California; from two girls from Jersey unsure of their worth in the world to two women in California learning just how great we are.  As I slapped the bracelet on her wrist (and slapped her ass for good measure), off she went!  And the first person standing there to congratulate me was my brother.  The kid who spent his childhood teasing and tormenting me.  The kid who I often told that the reason mom and dad didn't have a third kid was because they had perfection, tried again and got him.  The kid who became the guy of whom I was most protective.  The guy who became the man who is one of my greatest friends.  There he was to give me a big hug and kiss.  I never felt so full of pride.

Hours later, the entire team stood at the finish line waiting for our 12th and final runner: Steffie.  As she turned the corner to come over the bridge, less than half a mile from where we were waiting for her, I broke into a smile thinking about how lucky I was to be running not only with my brother, but with one of my cousins.  Steffie and I are far enough apart in age that growing up, we didn't spend a lot of time with each other.  I was working at UMass full-time before she and I even had our first Briana/Steffie-only memory.  I had driven up to Vermont to join the family for a weekend, and finding ourselves stuck at the top of a mountain with over an hour wait to take the tram back down, somehow Steffie convinced me to hike down with her.  I was in flip flops; she was in fashion sneakers.  Neither of us were truly prepared for the adventure.  In a true Steffie stroke of genius, she decided our best effort was to each wear one sneaker so that we had proper traction on the way down.  And each time one of us slipped or slid down part of the mountain, we laughed that we ever thought those shoes had any traction whatsoever.  And when we made it to the bottom, I remember thinking that this was the first time I had ever spent any alone time with her.  And now here we were, ten years later, both living in California and having already piled up many memories that were just ours.  And we were more than cousins, we were friends.  The team formed a tunnel for her to run through before we followed her over the finish line, and again I was overwhelmed by the love.  How lucky was I to be able to share this memory with so many people I loved?  We spent that night celebrating with food, drinks, laughter and games.  We shared all of the new memories we had made along the way: the kills, the spills, the songs, the legs, the sounds that haunted our night runs, the moments we thought we might not finish.  We were already planning when we could Ragnar again.

 

For Love

In one month, I'm doing something crazy; I'm running a 200-mile relay race.  The Ragnar Del Sol team recently sent a post out to all runners asking, "Why I Run?"  Those with the best stories may just get featured in the race magazine.  And while being featured in a magazine doesn't actually make the list of why I run, self reflection and making meaning of experiences is right up my alley, so I thought I'd give it a shot.  So, here is why I run:

January 1, 2012.  I had never run more than a mile at one time in my more than three decades of life.  Most of those runs were in high school when my gym teacher was clocking me for the Presidential Fitness tests, and I was consistently one of the last to finish.  Health, wellness, weight.  These were all things I struggled with from childhood to adulthood.  In March 2010, I decided to start a journey into a healthier life.  Slowly, but surely, I began to lose weight, and with every pound I lost, I also lost a little bit of the fear I had of exercise.  I would find myself crossing the threshold into the rec center at work and climbing onto the bike or the elliptical with a little more confidence each time.  I'd get on the treadmill and start to walk, sometimes even cranking up the pace to run for a minute or two at at time.  I specifically remember the day that I ran for 15 minutes straight.  I couldn't believe I had it in me.

So on January 1, 2012, a year and a half into my wellness journey and 100 pounds lighter, a friend asked me if I wanted to join her team for a local 5k for charity.  I laughed and told her that I don't run, and she assured me that there was no pressure to finish it quickly.  She said I could even walk it.  Not wanting to miss out on a fun morning with my friends for a good cause, I signed up knowing that I could easily walk 3.1 miles.  I began doing more runs at the gym to prepare, all the while knowing that I would walk most of this race.  And on the morning of the 5k, I started to run.  And around two and a half miles, I felt tired, so started to walk.  I took three steps when I thought to myself, "Briana, you're almost there.  You can do this."  And I did.  I picked up the pace and started running again.  And I haven't stopped.  That was January 28, 2012.

On January 5, 2013, I ran my second half marathon.  This is the first race of a year that I've dedicated to running, with the main event being Ragnar Del Sol, which takes place four days before my birthday.  I've gathered my closest friends and family members to congregate in Arizona for a weekend of running to celebrate how far I've made it and how much further I can go.  Because when I run, I feel free.  I feel free of the weight that held me back for so long.  I feel free of the insecurities that stopped me from taking on many adventures.  And I feel free of boring workouts where I am staring at the same TV or spot on the wall too long.  I run because it heightens my love for the people in my life who are sharing this experience with me.  It heightens my love for being outside as I get to watch the world as I pass through it rather than it passing me by.  It heightens my love for myself because with every run, every step, I am reminded of what I can accomplish if I just keep putting one foot in front of the other.  And anything that can fill your heart with that much love is worth running toward.