With My Own Two Feet: The Finish Line

One year.  365 days.  15 races.  148.1 miles.

This is, by no means, a record of any sort.  For many runners, this is a modest number.  But of the many things I've learned over my year of running, it is not a competition.  Running is between you, your body and the pavement.  Winning is not about beating someone else; it's about finishing.  And I finished.  With my head held high, I ran across that last finish line knowing that I had won because I accomplished what I set out to do.

There were obstacles along the way.  Hobbling through foot and hip pains.  Leaving fun nights early to make it to the start line in time.  Realizing I'm not going to make a PR.  All of these things presented themselves along the way as moments to test me and to test if I was really learning anything from this challenge.  I'm happy to report that each time, I proved to myself that I was, in fact, growing.  I was stronger than the negative thoughts in my head.  I was prouder than the inner voice that was eager to beat myself up for not training better or moving faster.  I was more confident than the old worries that lingered when I realized my friends would be waiting at the finish line for a long time due to my modest pace.  The old Briana may have succumbed to any of these.  She may have given up along the way, justifying why it was okay to skip one month or stop the challenge all together.  But for all the ways I am the same person I've always been, I am also a better version of that person.

I have aged into a person more comfortable in my own skin and more comfortable with my imperfections.  I have even come to embrace most of these quirks and flaws because they are me.  They are the potholes along the course of my life, things you learn to jump over or sidestep in order to make it to the finish line, but without them, the race wouldn't be as much fun.  It'd be like running on a treadmill in an empty room.  You're more than physically capable of getting those miles in, but who wants to run like that?  I don't.  I want to feel the wind on my face.  I want to watch as I run by the scenery, taking in the sounds and the smells.  I want to keep one eye on the ground so I know when to hop, skip or jump over the pebbles and potholes.  I want to smile at the other runners as they pass by and offer encouragement to those who need a boost.  I want to see new places and experience old places from a different perspective.  I want to cross each finish line knowing that isn't the end of the journey.  I want to wear sparkly skirts and customized shirts to show the world that I am capable of finding the humor in all things.  I want to improve my pace, but always be proud of my time knowing that it was the best I could give on that day.  And I want to do all of these things with my own two feet.

So, who's up for a run?

With My Own Two Feet: December

DECEMBER
Divas Half Marathon (Ontario, CA) - 13.1 miles

Back in April, when we were at the Expo for the Rock 'n' Roll San Francisco race, one of the vendors was promoting the Divas Half Marathon series.  His selling points: you get a tiara, a pink feather boa and your medal is given to you by a shirtless male model dressed as a fireman!  Well, who am I to turn down a good time?!  And this sounded like it could be the perfect last race for my year of running.

It was a cold weekend for Southern California.  The morning of the race was only supposed to be about 35 degrees.  But as we huddled up at the start line, I had a warm feeling inside.  I couldn't believe this race was my last in my year-long challenge.  And I was doing it with two of my favorite supporters, AJ and Anthony.  My first of the year was with them, the dreaded New Year's Race when I had so much pain in my foot and hip.  And here we were full circle.  It was right around mile two that the tears started.  I was so overwhelmed with emotions.  Sadness.  Pride.  Happiness.  Love.  Awe.  All of it hit me at once, and I let the tears roll down my face, feeling them mix with the sweat and the wind.  It all felt worth it.  I had earned every feeling.  And when I turned the last corner and was greeted by those giving out accessories, I donned my tiara and boa with pride as I crossed that finish line.  All of the volunteers congratulated me as I passed by, but they couldn't imagine what an accomplishment this truly was.

With My Own Two Feet: October, November

OCTOBER
Rock 'n' Roll Los Angeles (Los Angeles, CA) - 13.1 miles

The LA Rock 'n' Roll will always hold a special place in my heart since it was my first half marathon.  One year earlier, I was nervous and still a bit unsure if I was really going to be able to complete such a feat.  But I was also very excited to have such a large group of friends running with me.  There were eleven of us dressed as superheroes and geared up for this Halloween-themed run.

One year later, as I prepped for this same run, I couldn't help but think of how different it felt this time around.  Instead of being nervous about completing my first half, I was in shock that this would be my sixth in one year.  And instead of being surrounded by a team of eleven superheroes, it was just me and Anthony.  He was the Woody to my Buzz Light Year.  One year earlier, I truly needed an army to feel like I could get myself to the finish line.  And now, here I was.  No entourage waiting for me at the end.  It was just me motivating myself.  My confidence was coming from within.  And while I still love the energy when there is a big group in it together, there's something to be said about knowing that sometimes you are enough.

NOVEMBER
LMU Think Pink (Los Angeles, CA) - 3.1 miles
Rock 'n' Roll Las Vegas (Las Vegas, NV) - 13.1 miles

I can't lie and tell you that I am drawn to breast cancer awareness events.  Truth is, I hate them.  Maybe I still have some unresolved anger that I haven't worked out yet, but partially I think it has to do with something my mom said to me the day she told me she had cancer.  We both cried.  A lot.  Me more than her.  She had had time to get used to the idea and was also trying to be strong for us, as always.  And she said, "This disease will not define me.  My life is bigger than cancer."  This has always stood out to me because I think it says something about who my mom is and how she chose to live her life.  She didn't want to be thought of as synonymous with cancer.  This was just one part of who she was.  Which is part of the reason why I shy away from breast cancer events.  I don't want my mom or our family to be poster children for breast cancer.  She was more than that.  Even still, I do feel drawn to certain events and know that increasing awareness could save others from going through the hell that we've been through...that we are currently still in.  So, for my mom and for my job, a place I believe in and support, I suited up for the annual Think Pink run.  And I ran.  I ran for my mom.

The Vegas Strip.  Gambling, drinking, sleep deprivation, debauchery, running.  Wait...running?  Somehow of all of the things that come to mind when you think of the Vegas Strip, running isn't typically one of them, but that's the beauty of being a runner.  It takes you to new places and to places you've seen a million times, but gives you an opportunity to see them in a new way.  So when I learned of the Rock 'n' Roll Vegas, I was intrigued by the opportunity to run down the strip at night.

We lined up at the far end of the strip, just past the Luxor, at 4:30 pm, being serenaded by The All-American Rejects.  And as the sun dipped behind the mountains and was replaced with the superficial glow of casinos, stores and billboards, we took off with our first turn around the historic 'Welcome to Las Vegas' sign.  From there, it was a straight run up the strip until we turned to make our way down Fremont Street and back toward the finish line in front of Caesar's.  Lights.  On lookers.  Every step was peppered with something flashy to keep my attention.  And, with the exception of water stations, I ran almost the entire race.  It was the least amount of walking I'd ever done in a half.  Lucky 7, indeed.

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: March, April, May

MARCH
Rockin' Shamrock Race (Santa Monica, CA) - 3.1 miles

After doing two halfs and two 10ks in two months, March felt like the right time to slow down a little.  As the old saying goes, this was a marathon, not a sprint!  And when I started looking around for options, I came across a local company that conducts weekly races in Santa Monica and Long Beach.  Rocket Racing Productions is run by Mark & Michelle, and they host low key, inexpensive races on a regular basis.  And even better, finishers still all get a medal (because clearly one of the few reasons I run is for the bling!)  So I registered for the Rockin' Shamrock Race and showed up not knowing what to expect.  Michelle greeted all runners at check in, which consists of her crossing your name off of the list and handing you a bib.  Once it's show time, Mark calls everyone over to the start line that he chalked that morning.  He explains where the chalked turnaround point is before blowing the whistle, and then just like that, we were off.  Running down the strand past the Santa Monica Pier with the ocean breeze against your face is an incredible way to start the morning.  There are few people out and about, so you have plenty of time to take in the sights of the mountains against the sounds of the ocean mixed with the smell of the salt air.  And as I approached the finish line, there was Mark with a camera and a stopwatch.  For the first time, I started to think about how fulfilling it must be on the other side - creating an opportunity for folks to run and be healthy.  I knew then that this wouldn't be my last Rocket Racing run!

APRIL
Rock 'n' Roll San Francisco (San Francisco, CA) - 13.1 miles

My first half was part of the Rock 'n' Roll series and when I got the email announcing that Rock 'n' Roll was merging with the TransAmerica half to do it's inaugural Rock 'n' Roll San Francisco Race, there was no way I could pass it  up.  How many times would I have the opportunity to run over the Golden Gate Bridge?  The race coincided with Steffie and Allison's birthdays, so it even gave us a chance to plan a bigger weekend of fun in the Bay area.  I convinced Steffie that registering her for her first half marathon was the perfect birthday gift (probably an equally genius idea to when she convinced me to hike down a mountain without proper shoes), and quickly all details fell into place.  Two nights before we hopped on the plane, things got even more exciting when a few more friends decided to drive up and join the fun.  But when eight people go to San Francisco and only four of them are running 13.1 miles, chances are, it won't all be about running.

While the Rock 'n' Roll San Fran was only my third half, it was the first time I realized how bold I had become in my approach to running.  Unlike the previous two halfs, I hadn't trained as diligently.  And with every glass of wine that was poured at dinner the night before the race, the less sleep I committed myself to getting.  When the four runners of the group finally peeled themselves away (mainly because I was falling asleep at the table) and returned to the hotel, it was close to 2 a.m.  Only four hours until we had to be up and ready to run.  And when that alarm went off, I couldn't believe how tired I felt.  Fortunately the crisp San Francisco air quickly woke me up and as we waited at the start line, I started to get excited about how beautiful this course was bound to be.  Unlike any of my other races, this time I had a running partner.  Steffie and I were going to run the race together.  Up that first hill and through the winding streets, we made our way toward the bridge.  We stopped to take pictures and soaked in the memories.  And when we crossed the finish line together, I knew we had accomplished more than 13.1 miles.  How can you truly measure a memory like that?  After a delicious brunch and a rewarding shower, we were back on the streets of San Francisco to finish our day of sight seeing, almost as if the race were just another thing someone does on a Sunday morning.

MAY

Thunder Blast Run (Santa Monica, CA) - 3.1 miles

May.  Five months into my year-long challenge.  With a number of big races still to come, this seemed like another good time to take it easy and run a 5k.  So I turned back to my new local favorites and checked out what Rocket Racing Productions had to offer.  The course for the Thunder Blast Run was identical to that of the Rockin' Shamrock, and I welcomed the familiarity of it.  I laughed at myself while running because I couldn't remember when I had become a person to whom running 3.1 miles was taking it easy.

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.