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: June, July

JUNE
Rock 'n' Roll San Diego (San Diego, CA) - 13.1 miles

Like many race series, the Rock 'n' Roll series offers bonus medals - they call them Heavy Medals - if you do more than one race in a calendar year.  So when searching for a June race, I was drawn to the Rock 'n' Roll San Diego because not only would it mean another half, it would also mean earning the Rock Encore medal.  This race was also significant because in addition to AJ, Anthony and Schultzy, we ran it with Allison's dad and step-dad.  There were so many things I avoided doing earlier in life because I was afraid that the other people doing it would judge me for my lack of ability.  So even though I knew I'd be the slowest runner and everyone would be waiting for me at the finish line, I wasn't afraid to line up at that start line, knowing that I would cross the finish line in my own time with my head held high.

JULY
Costume Party Run (San Diego, CA) - 13.1 miles

By July, I was halfway done with my year of running.  Even though I was only 50% of the way through, it already felt like a big accomplishment because I was already registered for most of my remaining races, which meant completing my year goal seemed actually doable.  But the July race held way more significance than just starting off the second half of the year.

The previous July, I had only just started regularly running, so when my annual week with Kayla came around, I was excited that she and Amanda agreed to running a 5k with me.  As a kid, we did a lot of great things as a family, but exercising wasn't one of them.  So to be running 3.1 miles with my niece - my godchild - was more than I ever expected in my life.  The Costume Party Run boasts that its finishers are awarded with the largest medal around: a six-inch diameter disco ball.  But at the end, I was awarded with so much more.

As we lined up at the start line, we had a plan.  AJ was going to stick with Amanda; Philip was going to stick with Kayla; and Anthony and I were going to stick with Jenna.  We'd start together, but as our paces created natural gaps in the group, we wanted to make sure that the girls were never alone.  I was so proud of my Mander; she had been training regularly and was excited to take on her first half marathon.  I knew she was going to lead the pack and outpace me with ease.  I was excited to get to run the race with Jenna.  I knew she was the most nervous about the race, but regardless of how many alternate plans I came up with for things for us to do while the rest of the group ran the race, she was determined to do it.  I love my niece, so getting to know her friends means a lot to me.  No better way to make a lasting memory than to spend three hours running together.  We laughed; we complained; we ran; we walked.  But most importantly, we finished.  Again, I was so proud of Miss Jenna.

But it was the duo in the middle of our pack - my little brother and my niece - that carried me through this race.  The love I have for my brother and niece is overwhelming.  I have spent my whole life being a protective big sister and the past 16 years being a protective aunt.  Even during times when I struggled with my lowest bouts of self esteem, I knew I was good at being a sister and an aunt.  And to watch these two people who I love so much - a father/daughter team who had been through so much together - add another 13.1 miles to their journey in life side-by-side, I was overcome.  I was so proud and so happy and so envious and so full of love.  How many teenage girls get to run her first half marathon with her close friends and family, and especially, paced with her father?  And the truth is, I was even really proud of myself because here I was promoting health and wellness with my niece and her friends.  At their age, I never hoped I would be an adult who would do such a thing for the next generation.  At their age, I never hoped I would be proud of myself.  All of these emotions, pride, happiness, excitement and, most of all love, carried me through the streets of San Diego and across that finish where I was greeted with sweaty hugs and pink, flushed faces of people I love so dearly.  And that is a prize that no medal, no matter how big, can ever beat.

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.

 

With My Own Two Feet

Typically, I shy away from making New Year's resolutions.  These always seem to be lofty commitments you try to make that you end up ditching before Groundhog's Day comes to pass.  But as 2012 came to a close, I had an idea that was too tempting to pass up, so instead of a resolution, I made a goal for 2013.  And more than a goal, it was a promise to myself.  I committed to running a race a month in 2013, and though there were a few times I questioned why I set out to do such a crazy thing, I am happy to report that as of this past Sunday, my goal is complete.

The closer I got to that final finish line, the more I thought about the meaning this year has had.  Each race, no matter how short or long, held significance because it meant I was one step closer to achieving something major in my life.  Each race, each mile, each step had its own meaning.  And the biggest meaning of all, I did it all by myself.  Everything I ever told myself I couldn't do...wasn't capable of...shattered the second I crossed that final finish line.  Because while I had a lot of support along the way, there was only one person who could physically complete this task:  Me.  I did it.  With my own two feet.

JANUARY
New Year's Race (Los Angeles, CA) - 13.1 miles
Coastal Walk/Run (Los Angeles, CA) - 6.2 miles

I entered the new year with a little bit of confidence in my step.  I had embraced my first ever half marathon in October of 2012 and did it in an impressive time, given my lack of running history.  So when I lined up at the start line for the Inaugural New Year's Race, I was pretty confident that I'd be able to at least match that time.  Yes, it was night time and yes, it was a bit chillier, but how hard could it be to shave at least one second off of my last result?  By mile 3, I knew I had mistaken confidence for cockiness.  As the pain in the left ball of my foot sharpened, I wondered how far I'd be able to push it.  And by mile 6, after rounding the bases of Dodger Stadium, I wasn't sure if I could run any longer.  And while walking wouldn't typically be so bad, the 9 p.m. start time meant that it was getting late and cold.  My body was shivering and my muscles were cramping.  If this is how I felt in my first race of the year, how was I ever going to accomplish this lofty goal?  This is exactly why I didn't make resolutions; they were always impossible to keep.  With two miles to go, just when my crankiness was at it's highest, there was AJ at the sidelines.  He had finished the race much earlier and, thanks to the beauty of text messaging, knew I was struggling.  He jumped onto the course and ran by my side.  And what did I do?  I told him to leave.  I told him I didn't want to talk, and I was too cranky to hear his positive support.  He smiled at me, reminded me I could do it and quietly made his way back to the finish line so that he could be there when I crossed.  Even as he walked away, his words stuck with me.  Just having him at my side for those few minutes meant so much because my crankiness was no match for his love and support.  I took a deep breath, and I chugged along.  I let go of the anger I was having toward my own body for not being strong enough, and I started to remind myself that I had plenty of strength just by being on the course.  I reminded myself that my finishing time didn't matter.  What mattered was finishing.  So I crossed that finish line a full 30 minutes slower than my previous half, and I let AJ put his arms around me in a congratulatory hug.  I felt the warmth of Anthony's smile when he, too, embraced me.  And as discouraged as I felt, I knew I wasn't ready to give up on this goal.

It was only a few weeks later that I found myself lined up at the next starting line.  This time, it was in the rain.  It rains so infrequently in Los Angeles that when it does, you have to expect that it will happen when you have something you need to do outside.  But this race, while smaller than the New Year's Race, had it's own significance.  This is the race that opened my eyes to running.  It was only one year before that Yas had asked if I wanted to join her team for the Coastal Walk/Run as a fundraiser for her job's philanthropy.  I kindly reminded her I didn't run, and she told me I could walk it.  "My parents are going to walk it.  They typically even cheat by cutting down a path that leads them straight to the finish line."  Since I adore Yas and her parents, and since many of my friends were doing it, I figured I had nothing to lose.  So one year later, even though I had already accomplished my January race, I couldn't not participate in the run that started it all.  And since I was training for future races, I took the plunge and registered for the 10k option.  It rained the entire race, but as I neared the finish line, I couldn't help but think of the me that had crossed this same finish line one year earlier.  I had come so far, and yet this was still just the beginning.  So I finished and joined my friends to continue our singing and laughing in the rain.  And in that moment, I knew it was going to be quite the year.