That time I ran a Marathon

I just reread my post from October 8th.  Man that was a sad Sarah writing those words, wasn't it?

I took another week off after that run.  I did two runs in one day, short runs. Totaling five miles, and it was good.  I waited another couple of days and went out for a 6-miler. No pain. 

I had a surge of hope.

On the 19th I decided to take the plunge and sign up for the marathon.  The marathon that was seven days away. Then I went and ran four miles without my knee hurting.

I did a couple more 6-milers last week and I felt so strong, but then it was time to rest up for Sunday.

From the Notes on my phone:

I ran 26.2 miles.

It doesn't seem like something I could ever forget, but in case I do, I want to write every memory I have of those 26 miles while they're fresh.

In the days leading up to the race I found myself alternately giddy and bursting into tears.  Thankfully, Jessica talked me off my ledge and sent me a link about Taper Psychosis. I had that going on something fierce.

The morning of the race I was not nervous about how many miles I was going to run - 26 is a lot, but I'd run 17 and, well, nine more just didn't seem like a big deal. No, I was nervous about whether my body would hold up.  With so many knee aches and pangs over the previous few weeks, I was concerned I'd get half way through my race and I'd feel that snap again.  The wind blowing like crazy was another factor. It was so cold and so in your face. 

We show up at the hotel, the race's start line, and of course Amber shows up too. At 7 am with a baby and it's cold, but of course she is there, because Amber is always there for me.  Always. 

I wore my running skirt with my running tights over it because it was so cold.  The plan was to meet Josh at mile four to take them off.

I knew I needed to start slow, and I felt like I had, but my first mile was a 9:28 (fast for me).  I was shooting for a minute over that.  I slowed down a bit, I was feeling so good. About mile three I met up with a man in yellow whose goal time mirrored mine and I decided I'd run with him as long as possible. He was on his 30th marathon so I figured he could probably set an even pace and talk me through.  I figured correctly.

Mile 4 is where I first saw my sweet family. I sat down, took off my tights, retied a shoe and went back out. I took a bite of my PowerBar, grabbed a water at the aid station and worked at catching the man in yellow.

The miles just seemed to tick by so quickly. 5. 6. 7. And I just had an idiot smile on my face. My knees were aching, but not the intense pain that they had given me the three weeks before. I was so happy to be running! 

I crossed the Blue Bridge. 9. 

I saw Josh and the girls and I felt like I was skipping along. I was so happy. Marathon day. I cannot believe I'm here.

I caught up to the man in yellow at about mile 10. He tells me I've picked a terrible day for a first marathon.  The wind, it's bad.

11. 12. 

Halfway point and I see Josh again. I'm still smiling.  I feel great.  My pace is about 10:11. I'm happy with this.  I'm happy with life.  I am running.

14. 15.

Over the Cable Bridge. 16.

I'm tiring, and I'm out of food.

Aid station. Water. Gravel. Railroad tracks.

And then it hits me head on.

Wind.  

From mile 16 on there would be a 30-40 mph headwind.

After mile 17 I would be in unknown territory. I had never run beyond that amount of miles during my training due to my knee injury.

The wind was really getting to me and at mile 18 I found myself getting mad. My mind was so happy to be running, but my body was turning against me.  My lower back started to hurt terribly, almost felt like it was tightening up and I was so very uncomfortable.  

The man in yellow had surged ahead of me a bit, but I caught back up to him at 18. Told him that this was the hardest thing I'd ever done in my life. 

"Yes," he says, "but you're doing an amazing job."  Bless the man in yellow's heart.

At the aid station between miles 20 and 21 I grabbed a water and a stale candy bar. And then I told God I really needed to see my family.  Like right now.  And there they were and I was on the verge of tears and I know Josh knew this because he said, "you are doing it. You are doing it, and we'll see you at the finish line."

The finish line.

Just five miles.  I have finished 21, what's five more?

22. 23. 

Aid station. I downed two waters this time and stretched my back.  I leaned forward, then back.  I felt a little better.

24. Up over the bridge, the bridge that seemed to never end.

It was mile 24 when I realized, "I'm going to finish this.  I'm going to be able to say I have run a marathon."

At mile 25 I see a sign with my name on it, "Go Sarah! Run like a mother!" And I'm thinking, "my name is Sarah, but that's not Josh, Josh is at the finish line."

It's Asher. With his mama just next to him, taking my picture and smiling at me. I smile back, but I start to cry and then she grabs me and hugs me, tells me I'm looking strong and to go!

And my heart. It nearly burst. She drove a lot of miles to be there. To be there for me.  And as I write this there are tears, because some people know just how to love you.

Mile 26. Just .2 to go.  There are three kids sitting in the dirt on the side of the road, smiling.  "You're almost there," they say, "just a little ways to go!"  

Their mama needs a hug for raising such sweet kiddos.

That .2 felt like it would never end.

I'm about to round the corner, I see orange cones, I'm so close.

Then I see Denise.  And the tears, they start again.  These people.  I don't deserve them to love me like this.

I hear my name announced. I cross the finish line. I get a medal and a water bottle.

And there's my Josh. And my sweet girls who have only ever been encouraging of me to run and train.

Josh hugs me so tight and tells me I did it. 

I really did.  I ran 26.2 miles.

I hug the people who have come to see me finish and it's just this weird feeling. 

To be done.  

So many hours training.  So many miles run.  So many doubts.  Some injury.

And after 4 hours, 34 minutes, and 30 seconds, my first marathon was complete.

 

I didn't fail after all.

and done

Since July I have run 190 miles in preparation for the October 26th marathon.  I have spent 30+ hours out on the road.  I have lost 12 lbs.  I have gained a lot of muscle.  Both physically and emotionally.

But last night I realized this marathon journey has come to an end.

I'm not giving up on the goal of running a marathon, but I'm giving up on the one that is 2.5 weeks away.

I have missed a lot of runs due to this knee injury.  I've taken meds, I've iced it, I've rested.  I've been feeling pretty good.  I decided last night it was time to get back out on the road.

It wasn't.

I parked my car, did some stretching, set my GPS, and I started off pretty slowly.  My legs felt heavy, it was still hot, I didn't really wanna run.  I just knew I needed to.  I have a marathon to run soon.  At mile two I decided I was going to quit.  I wish I had.  Instead I kept going.  Your body really doesn't get into a groove until about the fourth mile, and I know this, and I wanted to feel that groove, so I kept on.  I had counted on the water fountains on the pathway to be working.  They weren't.  Bah!  I was so thirsty.  Thankfully at mile five, my turn around, my best guy friend showed up with an ice cold bottle of water.  Bless his heart.  I downed half the bottle, he poured the rest over my head, and I headed back to town.  He yelled after me to let him know if I needed a ride home.  It was getting dark, and he knew my knee was starting to bother me.

At mile six it happened.  The crazy pain in my knee.  This time there was no putting pressure on it.  I just stood there with all my weight on one leg.  No tears this time.  Makes me realize that last time the crying I did was not out of pain but out of frustration.  No tears this time because I knew.  I know.  It's just done.  This training is done.

I called Josh and he came to get me.  Ice pack in tow.

The rest of the evening is kind of a blur.  I sat on the couch with my ice pack, some chocolate, a beer, some cheese and crackers.

Salve.

I'm disappointed.  I'm discouraged.  I cried myself to sleep.

This feels like just one more area where I'm a failure.  And I'm really tired of being a failure.

A bathroom update.

In February I demolished our bathroom while Josh was outside working on his Suburban.

(that'll teach him.)



Over the next couple of weeks he would help with demolition, I would pee outside, and we would not have a tub or shower.



Then there was a toilet and a tub but no shower.



There's been no shower for nearly EIGHT MONTHS.  But you guys, we are getting closer.  I'm thinking by the end of the week.  We've also had a double vanity in there but neither sink was working.  We now have one sink working and no longer have to brush our teeth in the kitchen the way we've been doing since February.

A couple of months back I showed you this picture.  I had ordered this mirror months and months ago and we just never got around to putting it up.  While Josh went and climbed Mt. Rainier, I went to the glass company in town and asked if they'd put it up for me.  They came right over.  Then I went on to explain what I wanted it to look like when it was done.  I pulled up Pinterest and showed him.  He put this mirror up and then....



And then he did this!



The guy from the glass company did an amazing job.  It's my favorite part of the bathroom.

For a long time our floor looked like this:



And now it looks like this:



Very inexpensive, very durable, super easy installation, and it looks nice.

Here's the start of the tiling job:



And the (mostly finished product):



Also, the shower curtain I was in love with, yeah, I totally splurged and spent the $85.  She's so crazy worth every single penny.



I really got lucky with my paint colors.  I had seen this curtain online then went to the paint store, picked a couple of colors that I hoped would be close, and oh my goodness, they match perfectly.

As you can see we still need to trim out the door and the floor.  I'm also going to be ordering a new window for the bathroom, it will also need trim.  But, for the most part, this room is nearly done.  We're always pretty terrible when it comes to finishing the odds and ends.  So I'm sure it'll still be awhile.  I don't care, though.  I get to shower in here soon.  And I have a big, beautiful mirror.  Two sinks.  TWO!

It's been a pain in the rear.  It really has been.  And I've whined to many of you.  (sorry!) But I'm still glad we decided to redo this room.  It's my favorite remodel we've done.

And we've done many.

what about me?

This post has been in draft for a couple of weeks because there's a glimpse of my ugly in it.  But that's what we do here.  We do the ugly.  I might get some backlash, and that's okay, it's deserved.

The last couple of weeks have been filled with me doing quite a lot of work around my house.  And not just the domestic stuff I'm supposed to do.  Like dishes and laundry.  But the guy(ish) stuff.

Like tiling my bathroom shower.

And other stuff.

It's been nice to do things that make me feel productive.  Capable.  All that jazz.

I like to work.  I like to start a project and see the fruits of my labor.  I like to be good at stuff.  I've learned over the last few years that I'm good at renovating a house.  I know how to work with drywall, mud, tape, texture, paint, trim, tile, grout, flooring, etc. (i'm aware there's a lot more to renovating a house than just these few things.)

So I thought about buying a little fixer upper in town and that would be my job.

I talked to Josh about it and he thought it was a good idea.  He said he knew I'd be good at it.

Then it came time to plan out our school year/day.

I wrote out our schedule and our day ends about 3:00.  Then it's time to clean up the house, get dinner made, Josh comes home, we eat said dinner, spend time together as a family, clean the kitchen, ready the girls for bed and before you know it, it's 8 or 9 pm.

This doesn't really leave any time for me to have a job renovating a house.

I started feeling a little bitter.  Honestly, I'm still feeling a little bitter.  I know.  These girls are mine to raise and school and this house is mine to maintain, and these should be my dreams.  And they are.  They are.  But it's hard when you have other dreams too.  Dreams I don't get to pursue at this time.  I hate writing this.  Yet here it is.  Ugh.

I'm not good at this mama thing.  Or this teacher thing.  Really, I'm not.  But man I'm really good with a hammer.  When you do something, like mothering, on an hourly basis, and this thing is hourly as I am here all.the.time, and you see fighting, bickering sisters, or a lazy bones nine year old, you see how poorly you are doing at this thing.

But then you're given a hammer and you're good with that hammer and it's like, "wow!  this is what i wanna do ALL THE TIME!"

bah.

Here I am.  Writing all the words.  The too many words.  Always with too many words, Sarah.  And always the wrong ones.

It's just hard, friends.  It's hard to do the same thing day in and day out and feel so bad at it all the time.

Nailed It. - The Boudoir Edition

Have you seen those posts on Pinterest where they show a picture of a really cool cake, and then someone tries to replicate it, fails miserably, then posts that picture with a Nailed It caption?

Just sec...let me see if I can go find one real quick..  Okay, here:

click here to see more funny pics.

That gives you an idea now of what I'm talking about.  You have this awesome idea in your head of what it's supposed to look like, and then bam!  

Fail.

Well.

Once upon a time (last Friday) my husband had his 37th birthday.  I had a couple of different ideas of what to get him.  I considered an Etch-a-Sketch (dude can't draw stick people to save his life, but rocks an Etch-a-Sketch) and I also considered The Millenium Falcon Lego set.

I realize these are both toys, but that kind of gives you an idea of the kind of man my husband is.

(I'm laughing really hard right now, but seriously.  He'll forever be 12.)

While those were really great ideas and are now Christmas gift contenders, I came up with something I thought would be even better.

I thought it might be fun to try a boudoir photo shoot.

I really should quit thinking.

I decide to text Denise (my SIL) about the idea and she offers to do the photos for me.  This is great news because Denise is an incredible photographer and probably the only person I'd trust to see me in um, this delicate situation.  

I create a private board on Pinterest for my boudoir ideas, which, have you ever created one of those and then wondered if it was actually private?  As I'm pinning these half naked women posed in these ridiculously seductive ways, I'm thinking, "Dear Lord, please don't let Debby S. be able to see these."

Denise asks if I have some ideas in mind and I explain that I have a private board on Pinterest with some ideas and that I invited her to the board.

She says she didn't get the invitation.

THAT'S BECAUSE I INVITED THE WRONG DENISE.  

Welcome to my world, friends.  Welcome to my world.

I got that mess figured out and now we had to figure out how to get my husband out of the house yet leave his Suburban because it would be used as a prop.  Seriously, our jacked up '85 Suburban.  Oh my word.  Okay, anyway..

One of the photo ideas needed a cowboy hat.  I don't have one of those but I knew someone who would.  So I text Chelsea, who of course is game for loaning me her hat.  Then she says, "want my chaps too?"

Oh, Lord.

Are you kinda getting the idea here?  I'm getting all embarrassed and sweaty just thinking about this.

Denise shows up, my husband leaves, and I realize I am much too sober.  

Here's a tip, if you're ever going to do one of these boudoir shoots - take shots.  Lots of the shots.

Shots of tequila.

I was sober for my experience and it was brutal.

Denise would probably say the same thing.

We spent the next couple of hours laughing, trying to make me look skinny, and apologizing to my neighbors for indecent exposure.  Denise goes home and a few hours later sends me an email filled with my pictures.  Immediately I'm thinking I could create my own Nailed It post.

I'll spare you the pictures.  You are welcome.

(p.s. husband liked his gift and says he think i could have a career.  bless his heart.)

the time where i convince myself this is just a minor setback

During the 12th mile of my half marathon (13.1 miles) a couple of weekends ago I felt a sharp pain in my right knee.  For most of the race my left knee had ached, but this was now in my right knee and the sharpness just didn't feel very good.  For the next week it was obnoxious during my runs.  On the 21st I ran 17 miles.  The last couple were pretty intense because of this knee issue.  But nothing unbearable.

Until the next Wednesday.

I was out for my scheduled five mile run but at mile three I felt a little sharper pain in that right knee than what I thought should be run on.  So I stopped and walked to my car.  I sent a message to my coach friend and he suggested taking the rest of the week off and then going out for 14 instead of my scheduled 18 on Sunday.

Sunday morning rolls around and I roll out of bed.  Not running for most of the week had messed up my head and I really wasn't feeling like going for a run.  Also, even though Mark told me to just run 14, my calendar (that he put together for me) said 18.  So I was determined to follow that.

I'm always amazed how quickly my poor attitude changes when my feet hit the pavement.

I parked my car at Safeway, started my GPS, and it was go time.

On Pinterest a couple of months back I saw a quote that said,

"Never judge a run based off the first mile."

So much truth in those words.  And as I was feeling absolutely awesome during that first mile, I had to remind myself of them because I still had 17 miles to go, and most likely they wouldn't all feel this good or fast.

Two miles later I learned that was true.

At almost the exact moment my GPS told me I hit three miles I felt a snap in my knee.  Immediate, excruciating pain.  A kind of pain where you just know, "something's not right here."  Instantly I started to cry.  At first from pain, which is a big deal because I don't normally cry from physical pain, but mostly I cried because I am four weeks out from my marathon.  I am 13 weeks IN to my training. 13 weeks! I have literally worked my ass off (I'm down 12 lbs), I have spent hours upon hours on the road, I have beaten my body down and I have built it back up, to have it come to this?  To this snap?

Man, I was pissed.  I'm still pissed.

I had to stop running.  I called Josh to come get me.  He didn't answer.  As I'm walking my knee does not hurt so I decided I'd try to run.  Uh, no.  I call Josh again and I'm in tears and the man, he does not answer and I am thinking, "what the heck?  It is Sunday morning, he should be up making breakfast and getting the girls ready for church.  Why is he not answering?"  I call three more times over the next ten minutes (I also try running again) both to no avail.

15 minutes after I had first called him he calls me back.

"Where have you been?"  I practically scream at him.

"Um, I went to the grocery store to get the food for your run and left my phone at home."  You see, we had talked about Josh stashing some food and drink along my route so I would not have to carry it with me.  The poor man was doing this kind thing for me and I bite his head off.

(why does he stay married to me?)

He asks if I'm okay.  And he asks in such a nice way that I lose it.  I bawl.  I tell him I'm done.  My knee is done.

"I'm on my way."

I walk until he picks me up and when I get in the Suburban there aren't words because what do we say?  My training has been equally hard on him and to think we've wasted it?  

ugh.

We get home and it's time to get ready.  We have to get to church, so I only had a few minutes to sit and rest and ice.  I sat through church but I didn't hear a word.  I didn't hear The Word.  I may as well have stayed at home.

So it's day three and I've been icing when I can.  I'm a mama and a teacher and really there's not much sitting when you do those things.  I will try this evening to run.  My goal is three miles.  Heck, A mile.  Just gonna see what this knee will do.

Things looked pretty grim on Sunday, but I'm not going to say just yet that this marathon thing is out.  I've worked too hard to give up this easily, however, I have to face the reality that the possibility is there.

But it's too much to think about.  It's just too much.  So.  Instead.  I will focus on icing today when possible and lacing up my running shoes tonight.

A child says it best.

When I taught the hot air balloon class a couple of weeks ago I did a little experiment with a toaster and a plastic sack to show that hot air rises.

(thank You, Jesus, that the experiment worked.)

After the experiment I told the kiddos that air and God have a similarity. You cannot see either one, however, you can see evidence that they are real.  We cannot see air, but we can feel it on our skin when the wind blows, we can see the clouds move, etc.  We cannot see God physically, but we can see evidence that He is real.  In His creation.  Waters, mountains, each other, and so on.

At the end of the lesson I asked if there were any questions (scariest part of the lesson) and of course my kid has to raise her hand.

So I point to my nine year and she asks, "How do we touch God?"

(uhhh...)

A little girl, about four or five, and new to our co-op group, raises her sweet little hand as high as she can while keeping her bottom on her seat.

I point to her, "I know.  I know how we can touch God."

I smile and encourage her to continue.

"By choosing Him.  By loving Him.  That's how you touch God."

And I was off the hook.

Who needs an adult to answer a question?  Children always have the best answer.