Photographs and Memories

Tis the season... for year end reviews, retrospectives, and resolutions.

While 2013 was my most exciting year in recent memory, with a some AWESOME accomplishments and life changes, I find myself at the end of it feeling a little, well, blah. And definitely ready to move on to 2014. Many of my friends are ready to shove 2013 out the door, as they have faced significant challenges - with the hope that things can only look up. But I think that is what we hope for every year, no matter how successful the previous one was -- that things will get better.

So maybe we'll have a brief photo recap of 2013 and some thoughts on where to go next. Sound good? Still hanging with me?

The year kicked off right with the Sgt. Preston Yukon King 6 mile run on New Year's Day. Clock (in red) and I came in last. It was pretty awesome.

And I escaped the Michigan winter in January to visit Mike in Arizona - he was still living and working there.

Sunset heading towards Tuscon

But by March... he was on his way back to Michigan for good!

Just under 2000 miles from Phoenix to Kalamazoo!

I was already hatching my plans to run the Marine Corps Marathon and had set my sights on running the 5/3 River Bank 25k. As I wrote about before, the training didn't go well and my first half marathon of the season was rough. The weekend of my 33rd birthday was spent in Bloomington, IN for the Hoosier Half.

April came and went and Mother's Day (and Riverbank) was upon us! 

Kari's first 25k, my second 10k

As June rolled around I was finally ready to kick my running into high gear and I hit one of the low points of the year. On June 8, 2013, my grandmother passed away. 

Jamie, Jessica, Troy and Grandma
at Troy and Jessica's wedding reception, Aug 2010

The summer became an endless cycle of work, running and car trouble. In July, Mike and I took a much needed vacation to California to visit Troy, Jessica and Nolan (of course!!) and to do some sightseeing around the Bay Area. It was my first time visiting Yosemite and Alcatraz. We hit many of the San Francisco highlights in one whirlwind day, including Golden Gate Park, which clearly doesn't impress Nolan.

Shortly after returning from California, decided to get off the car repair merry-go-round. I bought my first ever new car (not hand-me-down from a family member), a 2013 Chevy Cruze. Kari suggested the name "Penelope Cruze," and she has treated me well the last few months. The downside is having an actual car payment and the car insurance hike that comes from having a car newer than your high school diploma.

I don't know about you, but I think the most logical thing to do after buying a new car and incurring a bunch of expenses is to change jobs and move. No?? Well I was never one for taking advice.

In late August, I accepted an offer at United Way of the Lakeshore, where I started my United Way career in 2009. I left my great colleagues at United Way in Kalamazoo after 3.5 years. It also meant leaving my running group, EcoTrekkers, friends, Jaycees and roomies, Heather and Shark.

Oh and I had to move. I hate moving. Dad and Mike hate it more.



My move to back to Muskegon put Mike's plans for home improvement on the fast track, as there were several projects he hoped to have done before Crookshanks and I arrived. Fast and furious work on painting, carpets and the kitchen, as well as some exterior updates took place over a 2-week period.

Crookshanks approves these updates

Throughout the summer, the move, the changes, I was still rolling towards the Marine Corps Marathon goal. I had my injury setback, detailed here, but was able to have some beautiful training runs.

Summer was quickly coming to a close and I was raising money like mad for the Epilepsy Therapy Project. I also spent a lot of time in little engine mode when mentally preparing for the marathon: I think I can, I think I can. One more race and it was time to head to DC.

Too good not to post - the Grand Rapids Marathon Relay Crew. And Mike's thumb.

I've detailed the marathon here, but there are more photos to share and always more story to tell.

Welcome to DC!

What?? You finished a marathon? You can still stand up? You're kidding!!

Ok, maybe that was just my internal monologue, but honestly, this was one of the best days of my life so far. I'm so glad that Mike, Mom, Dad and Kari were on the adventure with me!



It seems that the whole year was all about the marathon, but really, it was only about 6 months. Haha. Now that we've gotten through October and the REALLY BIG THING, as I had taken to calling it, I could focus on ending the year strong.

The runner ladies and I took to the apple orchards again this year for the Dirty Duel Trail Race. No action shots, but I think this will suffice:

With the holidays approaching, Mom, Dad, and I took a trip out to California in early December. We celebrated Christmas with Troy, Jessica and Nolan by completely spoiling the little bugger, eating all the cookies that Jessica made with no help, and having Thai food for Christmas dinner. Mike had already made plans to attend the Big 10 Championship game in Indianapolis to watch MSU beat Ohio State, so he didn't make the trip with us.

Nolan is ready to go

Aunt Jamie and Nolan spend some quality time

Almost the family Christmas card

With the holiday season properly kicked off, I returned home in the "spirit" and convinced Mike we had to get a Christmas tree. We HAAAADDD to get a Christmas tree.

Umm... isn't that the most awesome Christmas tree you've seen yet today? Yes, it does need an angel or a star. We're working on it.

I don't have many pictures from Christmas itself or the various festivities, so you'll have to trust me that this is a good representation. This is most of the Helsen women at our annual cookie exchange (and also the day of our holiday gathering). It was the first Christmas without Grandma, but we had 50 people at the house celebrating, so a wonderful celebration!

That's about it for the photo retrospective, kiddos. They're mostly rehashes, but a good reminder of where I've been this year and how lucky I am. 

In 2013 I was blessed with health, opportunity, endurance, encouragement, friendship and love. I don't know if I can ask for more out of 2014. Perhaps it's best not to get greedy and instead try to build on the abundance of gifts I have in front of me in these closing days of 2013.

My final words on 2013 come from the later verses of the traditional New Year's Eve song, Auld Lang Syne:

We two have run about the slopes,
and picked the daisies fine;
But we've wandered many a weary foot,
since auld lang syne.

And there's a hand my trusty friend!
And give us a hand o' thine!
And we'll take a right good-will draught,
for auld lang syne.

Happy New Year!

So you say you ran a marathon?

Seven months ago, I stepped out into the blogosphere and put a stake in the ground. I was going to run the Marine Corps Marathon, raise $1500 for the Epilepsy Therapy Project and write a blog about my journey. Well kids, it's November and we need to check in on those goals.

I've started and stopped this first sentence countless times now, because the enormity of 9 days ago just makes it difficult to know where to start. But as Maria Von Trapp taught us, let's start at the very beginning - it's a very good place to start.

If I were to recap the ENTIRE awesome trip to our Nation's great Capitol, we'd be here all night, so I'll dedicate this post to the marathon and touch on other parts of the trip in another post. With our starting point established, Sunday, October 27, 2013, 7:55am. A date with destiny.

Prepped at ready at packet pick-up

The entire crew (Kari, me, Mike, Mom and Dad) was staying in Maryland and getting to the start of the race required a 20 minute drive to the Metro Commuter Station and 35-40 minute Metro ride to the Pentagon. Knowing there were many logistical hurdles to navigate, we wanted to get on one of the first trains into the city, so we left the hotel around 4:40am. Seriously. The ride to the Green Belt Metro Station was not without its challenges. Primarily from me.

Five minutes into the ride: "I know what I forgot. My contact lens." So yes, I ran the race and went the next 12 hours with uncorrected vision.

Five  minutes later: "Oh... I didn't bring my ankle brace." As in I totally haven't run more than one mile since August without an ankle brace and now I'm going to run for 6 hours WTF!!! Mom was very concerned, but frankly, the brace had been bothering me and I didn't feel like I had a hell of a lot of choices, so I did NOT freak out, and decided to run unsupported and hit the med tent if needed.

Minor issues, but a little nerve rattling.

Runner's Village - heading towards the start line

We arrived at the Pentagon Station and walked to Runner's Village, familiarized ourselves with the surroundings (located porta-potties) and realized the race didn't start for 90 minutes. After listening to the tail end of a non-denominational prayer service and killing some time, we finally made our way towards the start line around 7:10. I wasn't letting myself feel the butterflies until the American flag came streaming down to earth attached to the parachutes of skydivers while an a Capella choir sang the national anthem. For the first time that day, I began to feel the enormity of running 26.2 miles through the some of the nation's most important spots. Also, it was finally light out, so I could see enough to be impressed for the first time.

Now I had to say goodbye to my kick-ass ground support crew and send them on their most excellent spectator journey, which covered miles of walking, 2 states by Metro and multiple trips through Marine Corps security. Mom, Dad and Mike are the people who made it happen.

It was time to get settled into my corral at the back of the pack and send Kari off towards the middle. She didn't want to leave and I wished she didn't have to, but she had a race to run and needed to do it about 90 minutes faster than me.

Chatting before the start

At 7:55 the howitzer fired and we were off! Ok, 22 minutes later I crossed the starting line. Tens of thousands of runners crossed the starting line ahead of me. Those 22 minutes were the longest of the day - well, until the last 6 miles.

I'll admit that over a week later, I don't remember much of the first mile except people. Lots of people. The first 10k was the most technically difficult and the easiest mentally. I had a good pace, my lungs felt good, the scenery was great and I felt right on target. For the first of several times, I saw my parents and Mike when I was in Georgetown - easily the most entertaining part of the race. It featured high school marching bands, the Georgetown Hoyas pep band, a bluegrass group and a runner who was falling down drunk at mile 5. Honestly. Last I saw her she was being helped to a cart by a Marine and another volunteer.

At nearly every intersection for 26.2 (or 26.6 according to Garmin) miles and every aid station, there were Marines, keeping up safe, hydrated, fueled and encouraged. I had scrawled my name on my race bib and at a later water stop, a young marine was filling up my water bottle and saw it. He said, "Good job Jamie! Keep going!" I almost cried because I was so glad to have someone call me by name at that point in the game.

Back to our race. After the first 6, I was settling in well and focused on maintaining a pace so I could pass the Gauntlet (mile 17) and Beat the Bridge (mile 20). These two cut-off points must be reached by a certain time or you will be removed from the course and bused back to the finish line. If you ask my fellow travel companions, they will tell you that the weekend's refrain was "I will NOT get on the bus." My pace was on the mark to make the bridge, but those 22 minutes waiting to cross the start line were not doing me any favors.

In those middlish miles before coming back to the crowds of the National Mall, I was out in the relative no-man's land of Hains Point, along the Potomac. The view is nice and there were lots of signs, but limited spectators. This is where I found the Blue Mile, sponsored by the Team Wear Blue/Run to Remember. Please check out this runner's blog for moving photos of the mile. Every 6 feet was a photo of a service member killed in action. These men and women, most barely out of their teens, were often smiling, sometimes holding newborn babies, lives full of promise and service to country. Some were career military veterans at 40, who could have been close to retirement. I pulled down my sunglasses as I couldn't stop the tears. The last half of the Blue Mile was volunteers, one after the other, holding flags at attention - all day long. I cried harder.

Regaining some composure and checking my pace, I hustled on the the National Mall, where I saw Mike again. I tried to hug him, but he pushed me on, as the math whiz in him was concerned about me making the Gauntlet. The mood on the Mall was upbeat with thousands of spectators, more music and sights to see. My parents saw me (but I barely remember seeing them) around mile 16 as I cruised towards the Gauntlet in front of one of the Smithsonian Museums (Natural History?). I made it, with Marines cheering me on and barking at everyone, in a very encouraging manner, to go BEAT THE BRIDGE!

Passed the Gauntlet, headed to the Bridge!

So I did. And I pushed it. When a Marine yelled "You've got to get to the bridge by 1:05," I said "Well what time is it now???" Turns out I was a mile away and it was 12:40 pm. So I had plenty of time, but couldn't dawdle.

When I reached the 14th Street Bridge, I could finally relax. 20 miles down. Just a 10k to go. The toughest 10k of my life. As a friend put it - you feel like your knees have been taken out and you were up all night drinking beforehand. But still, just 6.2 little miles. I could do it. I could do it. I didn't get on the bus. I didn't get on the bus. Left foot, right foot.

Once we crossed back into Virginia for the last 6 miles, it got rough. For the first time I put in my headphones. I saw Ellen, one of the other Team Athletes vs. Epilepsy runners around mile 22. She wasn't feeling so hot, and was glad to see me, but told me to go on as she was going to struggle. It was comforting to see a friendly face so late in the race.

During those first 20 miles, I was focused on the BRIDGE, but had no doubts about my ability to complete the race. Things got very real after mile 20. I still knew I could finish and was not having any major issues. The bum ankle wasn't acting up and I was successfully ignoring the growing tightness in my calves and hamstrings. The burning in my neck and shoulders had been present since about mile 5, and while it was sapping my energy, it wasn't keeping my legs from moving. I just kept running... but the miles weren't going by! I would look down at my Garmin and .05 miles had elapsed! I had to turn my watch around so I couldn't see the time or distance because while my body was going strong, time and space were somehow disrupted.

I dodged walkers all through Crystal City and winding back towards the Pentagon. Many other back of the packers had pushed it to beat the BRIDGE and then walked much of the last 6 miles. My strategy was the continue my same run/walk intervals as the first 20 miles, which I did accomplish, although not quickly. With as much or more effort, my pace slowed by at least 1 min/mile. I cursed those who said I was "almost there" at mile 23. At mile 25, I finally believed them! I saw the starting line. There were spectators lining the course.

About mile 25. Still upright, but tired

As I came upon the last mile, I could see Arlington National Cemetery in the distance. Marines and civilians alike were cheering us on. I kept moving.

Ain't nothin' gonna to break my stride
Nobody's gonna slow me down, oh-no I got to keep on movin'
Matthew Wilder

I turned a corner and saw it. The final hill. Signs on the ground saying "Charge the Hill!" and "Take Iwo" as we all climbed the short (LONGEST) hill to the finish. Marines were shoulder to shoulder giving high fives and dragging you up the hill if needed. I didn't think I had anything left, but I couldn't walk that hill. I just couldn't. I reached the top, ran the last 100 yards and crossed the finish line. Clock time was about 6:28. Official time: 6:06:01.

Running a marathon requires a lot of trust in your body, the people around you and letting your preparation carry you when you flip to autopilot. Thank god for the Marine Corps. When I was done with the race, they were (kindly) telling me where to go and what to do, because I had no post-race autopilot and energy to think for myself. 

1. Collect your medal. 2. Get your picture taken at the Iwo Jima Memorial. 3. Move to the left to get your box of food and finisher jacket. 4. Follow the fence to exit the finishers area.

My feet hurt. My neck hurt. My back hurt. My heart soared! I couldn't walk another step and I couldn't wish for a better day.

By the numbers:
Miles run (Official): 26.2  - I don't have training miles, I'm not a junkie for excel like Kari
Time: 6:06:01
Weeks of official training: 19
Money Raised: $1782.50

That's right folks... Thanks to many of you, I blew my original and expanded goals out of the water! I will be posting later this week on gratitude, but I can't thank you all enough for what you have done here. By supporting me in my first marathon, you have given me the gift of a lifetime. It is an experience I will never forget and everywhere I looked that day, I was reminded of how much bigger this is than just me. Thank you.

Proud girls with our medals!

Upcoming: 
1. On gratitude and service
2. The next adventures

It's the Final Countdown

Ok... this is it, don't get scared now. (Maybe I've seen Home Alone a few too many times?)

Less than 4 days until the Howitzer sounds and then some 15 minutes later, I'll cross the starting line. For those of you who have never attended a HUGE race, it takes a lot of time for 30,000 people to cross the starting line. I'm guessing for the 12:00+ min/mile pace corral, it will be nearly 15 minutes.

It's been 17 weeks of training. Even more weeks of scheming and waffling and deciding and planning. And it's here. In a few hours Kari, Mike, Mom, Dad and I will get on a plane and head to DC for the big show. Marine Corps Marathon. So maybe the whole thing was nearly scuttled by the ridiculous federal government shutdown. No one wants to hear the rantings of a runner and a nonprofit worker on that situation. The good news is that the government is back working as well as it ever did (ha ha), and we're back on to run through one of the greatest cities in the world! Asking for fundraising support ONE LAST TIME!!! Be an Athletic Supporter!

I've been very remiss in my blogging lately. I haven't turned on my computer since the last blog. A wonderful feeling, although it just means that I've been killing the battery of my iPhone faster. I was totally geeked about my 20-miler last time. It was a hot mess. We went to Grand Rapids to do with the Grand Rapids Marathon training run and it wasn't exactly what I expected.  The shirts were nice, the water/fuel stops were great and the staff was awesome! The number of people running my pace = 0. The directional signs, not so great. I got lost, I cried, I found my way back, I ran bonus tenths. After running 20.4 miles, I finally gave up and hitched a ride back with the Gazelle dude who was breaking down the pit stops. Slowest and most painful run of my season - honestly worse than the one after I sprained my ankle. Thankfully Kari and I went to Founders afterwards and I had a consolation beer, which makes everything better.

Redemption was needed. A plan was hatched. We're always hatching plans. Thus was born the Channel Challenge of 2013. The challenge? Run around Muskegon Lake from Margaret Drake Elliot Park to Muskegon State Park in North Muskegon by way of the Lakeshore trail and roads in North Muskegon. The week after the disastrous 20 miler, we started at sunrise and 3 hours and 40 minutes later, had run 16 miles and were approximately 50 yards from where we started. There just happened to be a body of water between us.

Yeah, it was pretty sweet

The Channel Challenge complete, and medals in hand, (I'm a nerd, ok? It was an event... it needed medals.) it was on to the taper. Tapering is awesome, as long as you remember to run and don't eat like you're still running 35 miles a week.

The final "long" run was Sunday. The Grand Rapids Marathon Relay. Five runners to cover the 26.2 mile course, as quickly as possible. I took the longest leg, which was billed as 6.5 miles. Garmin disagreed, claiming 6.7 miles. After sitting on a bus for HOURS waiting for my teammates (I was #4), I got the baton and ran the best 6ish miles since before the injury. The crowd was engaging, the other runners were inspiring, and the guy dressed as a scarecrow on stilts was just... I don't know. All members of our relay team and the other Muskegon relay team had great runs. It was the perfect way to kick off this last week.

Grand Rapids Marathon really does have a great post party!

So now we're beyond all the training, beyond the planning, scheming, dreaming and past the point of no return.

Because I really don't care how nerdy y'all think I am (and I know you do), here's your song lyrics of the day:

Risin' up back on the street 
Did my time, took my chances 
Went the distance now I'm back on my feet 
Just a man and his will to survive 
So many times, it happens too fast 
You trade your passion for glory 
Don't lose your grip on the dreams of the past 
You must fight just to keep them alive

It's the Eye of the Tiger 
It's the thrill of the fight 
Rising up to the challenge of our rival 
And the last known survivor 
Stalks his prey in the night 
And he's watching us all With the Eye of the Tiger. 
--Eye of the Tiger (Survivor)

Thank you all for your love, support, prayers and kind thoughts over these many months. I appreciate you all and can't wait to write my "thank you and next steps" blog!

The long and winding road

Aaanndd... She's back!

After an extended hiatus, I remembered that I promised to blog about my marathon training. And just because the training hasn't been going swimmingly, I shouldn't abandon the blog. When things get tricky, it's even more important to tell the story of the marathon journey.

When I left off, weeks ago, I had tumbled to the ground, sprained my ankle and was sulking on the couch. It's 5 weeks later, we're 30 days out from the MARATHON and a lot (and a little) has happened in that time. My training took a total dive. For several weeks I barely ran at all, missing 2 long runs, only running once mid-week (and a short, slow run) each week and stepping back on my long run schedule. I had planned to KILL IT in September to make up for a lackluster August, due to a recurrent stomach issue. Instead I walked instead of ran and spent time worrying and feeling sore and sorry for myself.

Last year, when I trained for my first half-marathon, I did it alone. No training groups or long run buddies. It was difficult to get motivated and it wasn't always enjoyable. The best thing about the marathon training has been the long runs with the Summer Safari training group in Kalamazoo. However, just when I really needed my group that shuffles along at my slower than molasses pace, I picked up, packed up Penelope Cruze (Kari named my new car), and moved to Muskegon. I was now staring down the barrel of moving, a new job, recovering from injury, and running without my crew all at once.

Overwhelmed.

In the last 2 1/2 weeks I've managed to move many (certainly not all) of my things to Muskegon and get the newly remodeled house set up. The kitchen is in order and we've actually cooked meals, the living room has matching furniture and the TV mounted on the wall, the outlets and light switches are brand new - and that doesn't even count all the hired labor for the flooring, counters, painting, etc. The (mostly) clean house, with uncluttered counter tops and routinely made bed is peaceful and soothing, as my mind often runs much faster than my legs. The cat is enjoying the stillness of living on a street with next to no traffic and nearly silent neighbors. She sits in the open windows and listens to crickets - and stares down the cat next door. It's just right.

(Note: The one messy area in the house is "my room." The spare room with my dressers and things. I haven't gotten it together yet. I can sense your surprise from here.)

Back to the running. Since I've moved back I've gotten back to my long runs in an attempt to prepare for my longest training run (20 miles, this Saturday). My friend Kari has helped more than I can say in the last few weeks. She's significantly faster than me, but when I ran 12 miles on September 14th, she ran the first 6 with me, at my slow run/walk pace and interval - before going on to complete her 20 miler on her own! Last weekend, I wanted to run 16 miles (my longest by just a bit). I was waffling on when to do it, wasn't feeling motivated or excited. Kari and I hatched a plan to run around Spring Lake (with a 4 mile add-on) on Saturday morning. This time, she ran the entire thing at my pace, including walking intervals. I really don't know if I would have made it through so well without the companionship and support. The run was a great success, and I felt like I was flying afterwards. Granted, by 9:30 pm, I was demanding to go home from a party and go to bed - but that's what happens when you date a runner.

The road to the marathon has not been straight and narrow. It's been twisty, turny, LONG, and bumpy. And we're not done yet. 20 miles on Saturday and then the balancing act of the taper.

After 12 miles at Pere Marquette Park

Future topics for thought: "Surviving your runner's mood swings" (will Mike guest post?), "The agony and the ecstasy of the taper," or "Hey, what's with that _______ (insert unsightly skin/foot/body part)?"

A good place for the road to lead

There's No Crying in Running

Whew... what a rough day. Today was the long run for week 10 of my 19 week marathon training. And it sucked. Hard.

I've been struggling the past few weeks with ongoing gut issues that have hindered my midweek runs and caused anxiety going into longer runs. I'm gonna keep it classy and stop this conversation in its tracks.

This morning I woke up with an upset stomach and feeling nervous about not having run enough through the week. The group was running out in Gull Lake (25 minutes away), so I needed to get up and get it together early. I did all the usual things, ate my banana and waffles, got all my gear together and left in plenty of time.

I arrived at Gull Lake to find that the gas station with the 1 solitary bathroom stall for 150 runners was closed, and the bathroom was out of order anyways. I choked back panic and headed for the woods. And met this fence:

There's a reason I never picked up steeplechase

The fence did not look like that when I started. I tried to hop it and the wet, rotted wooden fence gave way. I fell to the ground, scraping my arm and landing on my right ankle. I sat on the wet ground, fighting back furious tears, not sure if I could get up - and I still had to pee! Adding insult to injury of peeing in the woods - now my skort was wet from the ground.

I hobbled back to the group, about ready to pack it in and head back to bed. A team mate encouraged me to consult another coach who is an athletic trainer. He basically said given my pain level, I could try it out, see how it goes and hopefully get some miles in. Because once I stopped, sat down and went home, it's going to swell and will be worse tomorrow. So no easy out - and I started.

So I told Kathy (our pace group leader) that there's no crying in running - and then quickly amended the statement. Who am I kidding? There's definitely crying in running.

I won't give you a play by play, but will say that what could go wrong, did - including the stiffness in my ankle after stopping at water stops, cramping in my calves and hamstrings, and getting stung by something on my left foot. At the 13 mile point, we were back at the start - and I wanted to stop, but Kathy told me to put on my big girl panties (direct quote) and do the last few miles out and back. Fine. FINE. I did it. It was quite hilly and I walked more of those last few miles than I would have liked, but I did it. And now I'm icing and watching "The Spirit of the Marathon" on Netflix.

If you need me, I'll be on the couch.

A banner week

Sunday night... And week 7 comes to a close. (ok, I didn't get this posted on Sunday, but you get the idea)

It's been 7 weeks of training for the Marine Corps Marathon with the Gazelle Sports Summer Safari crew and I'm enjoying it more every week. It's taken me a while to settle in and I've had some set backs, but with just over a third of the training completed, I'm feeling calm and confident. Of course we haven't gotten to the tough runs yet, but I think I'm ready.

This was a GREAT week! I finally made it back to EcoTrek on Monday night, had a decent 4 mile run (including the dreaded Maple St. hill) on Wednesday, did 5.6 on Thursday with Shawn and Jenn, 8 miles with the Summer Safari crew on Saturday and hit my first ever Dirty Herd today for 4.4 miles of trails at Al Sabo. While the long run was shorter this week, I'm incredibly happy that I did 4 solid runs and EcoTrek. A really successful week.

I said a few posts ago that I would talk about being an "achiever" and a runner's body. As a "back of the packer," I'm currently at what I'd call "participant" status. I tend to categorize runners in three main clumps: Performers - those who win their age group, win overall, continually work up the ranks and really, you know who they are. We don't know many of these people.

Then there are the Achievers: those runners who have been running for years, have made steady progress in their PRs, finish in the top half of their age group and have a healthy dose of experience under their belt. I know a lot of people that live here. And a lot more on their way to this level.

I'm in the third category. Participants. We make sure there is someone for the rest of you to finish in front of. We are the beginners or veterans who are in the back of the pack, running 2:30+ half marathons. Hoping to run a 5:45 marathon. In the 12:00+ pace group. Our long runs take twice as long and our fast runs clock in at 5 miles/hour.

This sounds a bit like slow runner whining, but it really isn't. On Sunday afternoon, I pulled up to Al Sabo for the Dirty Herd, expecting at least 25 people, as the Urban Herd easily draws 50 - 75. There were 10. All experienced trail runners, marathoners and ultra-marathoners. I hesitated and almost got back in my car and left. Then the group leader recognized me from Summer Safari. As expected, I was the only slow runner. I did not expect to be the slowest by 3 - 4 minutes/mile. This was also my "recovery" run after 8 on Saturday so I wasn't planning on going hard. The group leader and his running partner kept looping around back for me, to make sure I didn't get lost and didn't make me feel bad about my slow pace, walk breaks or causing them extra miles. Considering they had run in the morning, run 5 miles before everyone got there and the running buddy said her last race was a 100 miler, I'm guessing they didn't mind. Talk about performers.

At the end, they asked if I got in the miles I needed to, if I felt good and if I had fun. The answer to all 3: a resounding YES! A huge push out of my comfort zone to go out and run with the gazelles, but I'm working every time to not be embarrassed by my pace or ability. Running trails is good for my strength and (relative) speed and if that means causing some speed demons to loop back to check on me, I'm ok.

Showing up is half the battle.

I'll leave you with a quote that Dave wisely posted several weeks ago:

"I don't have a runner's body, but I have a runner's heart - and that is all you need." - Sergeant Jennifer Morris, United States Army

Al Sabo Preserve, Meadow

OK... one FINAL word. I've made HUGE leaps in my fundraising for the Epilepsy Therapy Project. Please consider bringing me closer to my goal of $1500!

The Runger Games

Do you feel it? Coming in the air tonight? Hold on... it's The Runger. 

If you've never experienced it, the Runger is that special kind of hunger that runners get when training distances and intensity picks up. It strikes predictably (at dawn, shortly after long runs) and randomly (before bed, 2 hours after a large meal, 3 am).

The Runger Games: a battle that can't be won through traditional tactics.

You may feel compelled to forage for grains and fruits (in your mother's fridge), or hunt for your own meat (at the fast food restaurant across the street).

Your friends and family will be drawn into the Games as your mood swings violently and unpredictably. The lack of a banana before a run is a near tragedy. You may sit in your boyfriend's car close to tears because it's 5pm, you ran 11 miles that morning and have consumed less than 1000 calories so far. Problem solving ability is thrown out the window.

The pendulum swings back. Belly full of carbs and protein. Target acquired and all is right with the world. You have a perfect beer to top it off and are now able to have cheerful conversation with the non-insane adults around you.

Tips to winning the RUNGER GAMES:

1. (If you are not a runner) VOLUNTEER. Make sure your runner is stocked with what they need: bananas, post-race pretzels, protein shakes for emergency post-run calories, fruit and carb food snacking.

2. (As the runner) PREPARE: While it's nice if someone takes care of you, it really is on your shoulders to get these things together. Even if your car is down and you're lazy as all get out. Don't blame others for your lack of preparation.

3. IMPROVISE: You won't always have what you want to soothe the savage beast in your belly. If you want a banana and toast, but don't have fresh food, make oatmeal and have frozen fruit. You can do it. You're a runner. Suck it up.

Beware the Fatniss Everdeen if you always give in to the RUNGER

I promised more about my runner's body and being an achiever, and it's still coming. I'm slogging through summer and making it so far. 

PLEASE consider donating to my Marine Corps Marathon Fundraising Efforts for Epilepsy Therapy Project

Choices... and the wizards who inspire us

Welcome to July - the dog days of summer, steamy, sweaty, perfect running weather if you find yourself over-hydrated and masochistic. 

While my blogging and working have been on vacation, my running has not been. I'll admit to missing a run or two due to jet lag, severe thunderstorms, and the ongoing saga that is my OLD car. Oh, and least excusable: delaying a long run due to a pub pedal/crawl the day before, as my nutrition consisted of beer, a bloody mary, wasabi peas, spicy salty mix and wheat thins. Runners/walkers/humans can assume this isn't ideal pre-run fuel.

To catch up without detailing every run in the past few weeks, here's a takeaway lesson from my Summer Safari group. My team lead gave us this quote: A very credible running coach, Alberto Salazar, was once asked "What is the biggest mistake average runners make?' He answered 'Running the slow runs too fast and the fast runs too slow." 

So I've slowed down, especially on the long weekend runs and it's made all the difference. I can't bring myself to discuss how slow my pace is, but it's comfortable, I'm able to finish the increasing distances and I don't have cramps, side-aches or feel terribly out of breath. It's glorious. 

However, my consistently slow pace and the runs that I have missed have left me feeling unsettled, especially when I stack myself up against the mileage and pace of others. It's time to step back and let some wiser people take the reigns.

"It is our choices Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities." -- Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

"All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us." -- Lord of the Rings

I have many natural abilities, and I could list them all here, but you would then see that like running, humility is also not one of them. However, as my favorite Headmaster said, it's not my innate abilities that prove my worth, but how I choose to work what I have. I don't have long legs or quick turnover. But I can choose to spend my time pounding the pavement, trail and track to build strength, stamina and perhaps even speed (all things are relative, m'kay?).

Gandalf's onto something. Despite a bad situation or our lot in life, we can't squander the time we've been gifted with. So I dragged by ass out of bed at 5am and chose to spend that time running in the muggy summer heat. Because I can. Because I want to. Because these moments and choices are proving who I am. 

I'll sign off here, with the promise that I have a bit more to say on this topic. 
Coming up next time: a runner's body and becoming an achiever.

With apologies to Tom Petty

Well she was an American girl
Raised on promises
She couldn't help thinkin'
That there was a little more to life somewhere else

Week 1 of training done. 

If you know me well in the real world, you know that June has kicked my butt and the last 2 weeks have left me a ball of nerves.

My grandma died on June 8, my boss, who I see as a mentor and a friend, had her last day on Friday, and on Saturday morning, the car gave out... again. The day-to-day issues and inconveniences would be enough to up my stress level. But it's the larger picture - the uncertainty that accompanies change, the constant tug of weighing one decision over another, the sheer exhaustion from a dozen tiny stressors too inconsequential to name.  

After all it was a great big world
With lots of places to run to

I set the alarm for 6:00 am on Saturday morning, to make sure I'd have time to eat, dress and fully wake up and make it to Summer Safari training by 6:45 am. Well, to paraphrase Meatloaf, three out of four ain't bad. I was on my way downtown when the car just stopped running at an intersection less than a mile from my house. I got it started again, up a hill and onto a side street when it gave out again. 

Thankfully, on Saturday morning there's not a great demand for tow trucks so the wrecker arrived in record time. After banging around under the car for all of 30 seconds, the driver said, "yeah, your fuel pump isn't working." And that put an end to the hope of making it to Summer Safari, as it was already past 7:00 and I was a mile away. 

I walked to my office nearby, gathered a bag for my things and began the 1.5 mile walk home.

And if she had to die tryin'
She had one little promise she was gonna keep

Come 9:20 am and it was hot, muggy and I'd already walked over 1.5 miles, changed my sports bra, top and socks due to sweat and had to map and run a 6 mile course alone. (I'd also eaten a little more, lounged on the couch and felt sorry for myself for awhile as well).

Week 1 total activities:

Monday: 75 minutes EcoTrek
Tuesday: 75 minutes yoga
Wednesday: 4.15 mile run
Thursday: Rest
Friday: 30 minute walk
Saturday: 6.1 mile run
Sunday 2.5 mile run

God it's so painful when something that's so close
Is still so far out of reach

So today we begin Week 2, with high hopes for a better outcomes. Waiting for the call on what it will cost me to get 4 wheels back on the road. Wondering what direction the meetings on "next steps" for our department will take. Wishing I knew how to get rid of this distracting ache in my back. Ready for a speed workout tomorrow - as long as I can get to the track by 5:45 am.

Support my Epilepsy Therapy Project fundraising!

And away we go!

Summer Safari kicks off this weekend! Saturday will be the first "long" run - thankfully only 6 miles, which is manageable for me right now. I'm following Gazelle Sport's Summer Safari program, so I will need to get out there and log a few miles today as well. I'm hoping to some shade tonight, as my butt slept in after a challenging EcoTrek session last night and didn't get a cool morning run.

Wish me luck as I start my official marathon training. It's going to be a long, hot summer and come October I'll be leaner, hopefully not too much meaner, and will have a great story to tell. I promise you more funny stories and introspection next blog post. Just wanted to put it out there that we're kicking off and ready to run!

Please support my fundraising efforts as I work towards my BIGGEST RUN EVER, the Marine Corps Marathon! I'm raising money for the Epilepsy Therapy Project. 

Safari, yo

In Memory

On Saturday, June 8, my sweet grandmother, Dorothy Helsen, passed away. She was 85 (and 1/2) and lived a long, full life. I loved her dearly and miss her already and can't say anything better than what my dad said at her funeral. Here is his eulogy and his tribute to his mother - wife of Ike, mother of 10, grandmother of 25, great-grandmother of 14 and a woman known for her faith and kindness in her town and beyond:

Dorothy Helsen, May 17, 2013

On behalf of my brothers and sisters, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, aunts and uncles, I want to thank you for being here today to celebrate the life of Dorothy Mae Helsen (Mom).  We are blessed to be part of the St. Catherine’s parish and Ravenna communities, as many people have been here to help our family through these final weeks of Mom’s life.  It is impossible to thank everyone, but the people who provided care for her are truly special people and she loved every one of you.

Mom was a person who lived, loved, and left a legacy.  She was a person who had tremendous patience, and organizational and time management skills.  She was able to get ten children ready for church with only one bathroom in the house.  Each summer we would spend a week in the Upper Peninsula on vacation, but it was not much of a vacation for Mom. She would be cooking and cleaning the cabin while the rest of us fished, swam and had fun, but she did it without complaining because it was the only time Dad took time away from the farm and she knew we all loved going there.  We had to go with other families in order to have enough seats in the car for everyone.  So thanks to Uncle Gene’s family, the Shillings, and the Gilberts, we were able to get twelve people to the U.P.  each summer.

Mom celebrated life in so many ways, but especially through her cooking and family celebrations.  Mom made a jelly roll on Lincoln’s Birthday (Lincoln log), cherry pie on Washington’s Birthday, owl cookies
for Halloween,  church window cookies for the annual Helsen cookie exchange day, and homemade apple pie on Sundays was almost a given.  Feeding a large farm family was a very large job and Mom was able to prepare a meal at times from what seemed to be nothing, much like Jesus did in the parable of the Loaves and the Fishes.   We even created some of our own holidays, like Pumpkin Day.  Dad would plant pumpkins each year and when it was time to harvest, the entire family would get together and take a hayride to the pumpkin patch to gather the pumpkins.  All the pumpkins would be loaded on wagons and brought back to the house and each child would claim as many pumpkins as they wanted, and then we would have a family meal together.   After the meal, a game of touch football or whiffle ball was more than likely to take place.

Mom lived her faith, loved her church and community, and was always ready to help when it was needed.    She was always there to provide food for funeral luncheons and was in charge of the annual turkey dinner at St. Catherine’s for many years.  Many people of this parish benefited from Mom’s prayers in their time of need.  Her devotion to her faith was an inspiration to everyone, and she didn't miss a day without saying at least one rosary, and with the help of Aunt Helen, Mom got in one last rosary right before she died.

Mom’s love for her family was large and she had a way of making each one of us feel special as individuals. For example, she let each of us choose what we wanted for breakfast (even chicken noodle soup), or what we wanted for our birthday dinner and the kind of birthday cake we wanted.   Mom loved life and instilled in all of us that it is the simple things in life that matter.  Mom had great intuition and could tell if we were sad, worried, anxious, or needed a hug, and she knew exactly what to say and when to say it. She always took care of us even as we provided care for her.

So today, we celebrate the life of a beautiful lady who is now resting in the arms of the angels.  She taught us much about love, faith and the value of family.  May we always remember her lessons and treat others with kindness and caring in the same way.  We miss her already and we’ll always love her “a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck.”

Ike and Dorothy Helsen, October 1948

Flashback

"Picture it: Sicily, 1922." (Any Golden Girls fans in the house??)

Ok, let's not flashback that far.

Last weekend's Fruitport Old Fashioned Days 10k was a hot mess of a race for me. I failed to read the fine print on the 2013 FOFD registration and so was not aware that the event was held on an open course. As in a winding country road, open to traffic going 55 mph, 9:30am on Memorial Day weekend (read: trucks hauling boat trailers, overzealous yard salers, funeral procession). Also, there were a grand total of 46 runners in the 10k, so yeah. The drivers couldn't even tell it was a race. I felt like I had a "hit me" sign on my back and ran stiff, nervous and slow due to my fear of dying. Oh and still being out of shape. I finally finished, a personal slowest in the 10k, 2nd to last. The race finishes on the Fruitport High School track. With everyone watching, waiting for the last finisher so the awards ceremony to begin. The 5k winner had been finished for an hour!

All of this brought back memories of my origins as a runner. As in the first time I was a runner.  Now that we've got that out of the way, let's go back, kiddos. Back to the scary and wonderful place called the 90s.

In this blog I've marked myself as "starting to run" in the Spring of 2012. But in reality, I started to run nearly 20 years before (SERIOUSLY?!? 20 YEARS?) on the junior high track team. My previous sports experience was spotty: I played softball for two years in elementary school with a singular goal - wait for the walk. 8 year-olds aren't good pitchers. Oh and pray no one hit the ball to me. So 2 goals. I spent 2 years on the basketball team in 5th and 6th grade, never to score a single point. In the fall of 7th grade I inexplicably joined cheerleading. Mostly, that kept me from having to join the basketball team. So once spring rolled around I found track. All I had to do was run in a circle. Preferably fast. No coordination, no catching, no clapping. Perfect!

Oh yeah, I was a cheerleader. Fall 1992.

As with most slow, athletically challenged runners, I was pegged as a distance runner, destined to run the 1 and 2 mile races. The problem with these races is that as I got older and the skill differential became more pronounced between "athletes," I found myself frequently in danger of getting lapped by the fast girls. Ugh. The horror. My primary goal as a high school track runner was to not be last and not get lapped in the 2 mile (8 laps).

10th Grade track, Spring 1996. Note the sweet digital watch and WWJD bracelet. 

This isn't a sad story of what a bad runner I was in junior high and high school. I actually found a groove - and it came in the form of Cross Country. Our high school hadn't had a XC team in 10 years, but the track coach felt we had a talented distance women's track team and should start a XC team again. It started in the fall of my sophomore year with about 7 girls and a new coach (our track coach was a teacher and XC coach at another high school), uniforms and snacks subsidized by a sponsor and cheering section provided by our mothers. Cross country is a beautiful sport for a slow distance runner, especially compared to track. We ran in the woods, on golf courses, in state parks, around schools and colleges, and in all weather and all terrain. Just an example - in those days Muskegon High School ran their course at Snug Harbor. Running up (what seemed like) vertical hills, down sand dunes, over tree roots, tripping and falling over said tree roots... it was all an adventure.

Junior year Cross Country, Fall 1996

With a small team, I was able to earn a varsity letter, actually SCORE in meets (unlike my basketball and track experiences) and experience success. I ran 5ks in the summer, and considered myself a "real runner." It inspired my love of running and exercising outdoors. And you don't get lapped.

Fruitport Old Fashioned Days 2013