tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-327900152024-03-07T17:12:07.919-06:00I Run For My LifeI have fifteen marathons under my fuel belt. Thirty-five more to go.Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516566884075321281noreply@blogger.comBlogger834125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32790015.post-35684016695746954112020-02-09T20:29:00.001-06:002020-02-09T20:29:10.687-06:00Mississippi River Half Marathon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Yesterday I completed the <a href="https://raceroster.com/events/2020/23522/mississippi-river-marathon" target="_blank">Mississippi River Half Marathon</a>. I chose this particular race because it was just a few hours from home and because of its cool medal. I needed a "between marathons" race to keep me motivated to run during the colder months. </div>
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That theory worked very well until, per the usual, life happened. Several weekends before the race, a tornado hit my area. Needless to say that longrun did not happen. Then my kiddo got sick and I was up nearly all night. Then I got sick. Then... you get the picture. I seriously contemplated not going. That would have made me disappointed in myself, though. However, letting life get in the way had already done the job.</div>
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Between a couple of dear friends and my spouse, all of whom have more faith in me than I have in myself, I decided to give it a go. After all, I could walk the entire thing if I had to. You see, this was a very unique point-to-point race. Both the half and the full started at the same time, but the full marathoners would start 13.1 miles farther out than me. I knew I could surely finish this, even grossly undertrained, within the 7 hour full marathon time limit! </div>
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Roughly 36 hours before the race was to begin, I booked a hotel room. Yep - I waited until the last minute. It was a slow drive down to Greenville, Mississippi. However, a Delta sunset never disappoints! I arrived at the race expo within an hour of it closing. It took place in a downtown space that was gorgeous.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG3VmfhJJPzuQU4ZUEoCgCRICJ6NAwHWk28kxw5dr7NaQ7glToLctpnWiSLY9pv0DWca9_jbGyxYUi7iXGb89Ing9-JsMJQk4NWB-V-uAQtYcnFUyUvfirQVOJelMzVlzCh3NW/s1600/IMG_3527.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG3VmfhJJPzuQU4ZUEoCgCRICJ6NAwHWk28kxw5dr7NaQ7glToLctpnWiSLY9pv0DWca9_jbGyxYUi7iXGb89Ing9-JsMJQk4NWB-V-uAQtYcnFUyUvfirQVOJelMzVlzCh3NW/s320/IMG_3527.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Here is a view of the entrance from within the space</i>. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5jtSAA6Uy1i0-48XqCZbPBoYCwMVS25LUTYa4emAUMPSw9ACLAik6vYGabnr8ZHuGnFCSwr_0zR53xaucrHQv19Rbe1VWtyr9mtiFfp4UIs-r73BSvQs2TRbw5rxbtwuq1qzx/s1600/IMG_3528.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5jtSAA6Uy1i0-48XqCZbPBoYCwMVS25LUTYa4emAUMPSw9ACLAik6vYGabnr8ZHuGnFCSwr_0zR53xaucrHQv19Rbe1VWtyr9mtiFfp4UIs-r73BSvQs2TRbw5rxbtwuq1qzx/s320/IMG_3528.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Here is a view of the expo from the entrance. No muss, no fuss.</i></div>
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I got my goods and headed to my extremely inexpensive lodging. I got to the business of laying everything out so as to be prepared bright and early the next day. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOkMXJpNMh5w5dZnda4fNd__XxjqBq-zwlXp3RLRQw5diLLNrzc4-jO-LrKqRBEOdG6IBafg9ctS0OdESIfgpN41UIqYDVINlZK0Y0W4GHIocY5gjbdg7PzvHTUC-R2xLE-CGK/s1600/IMG_3530.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOkMXJpNMh5w5dZnda4fNd__XxjqBq-zwlXp3RLRQw5diLLNrzc4-jO-LrKqRBEOdG6IBafg9ctS0OdESIfgpN41UIqYDVINlZK0Y0W4GHIocY5gjbdg7PzvHTUC-R2xLE-CGK/s320/IMG_3530.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Expo swag - again, no muss, no fuss.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXnU_aYKLV8w1U6rARhD8KrJN1zNTb_Rj7H07VFht5tbj8vmHdH8QXDpKSKPnOwiA-4SlvhcKgnhzT1GqtTgrLGlLEmgYaJv8YrXqvh14a9wI2-WQgcRkbxkGiIp-p1tiFrbpU/s1600/IMG_3531.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXnU_aYKLV8w1U6rARhD8KrJN1zNTb_Rj7H07VFht5tbj8vmHdH8QXDpKSKPnOwiA-4SlvhcKgnhzT1GqtTgrLGlLEmgYaJv8YrXqvh14a9wI2-WQgcRkbxkGiIp-p1tiFrbpU/s320/IMG_3531.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i> I love this cool hoodie!</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8X7AQxuC3nujCVBV6sU4fAegCIghEhFt3nuVtlBakjna2Ph9Wk3B8WcQpL8U0BiZS63InE-P2Fcj51Sz38TPu5s-dC7_oa_B4L9a8yS_OjnKQ69C73DJMLc0boAg8VhWucmM0/s1600/IMG_3534.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8X7AQxuC3nujCVBV6sU4fAegCIghEhFt3nuVtlBakjna2Ph9Wk3B8WcQpL8U0BiZS63InE-P2Fcj51Sz38TPu5s-dC7_oa_B4L9a8yS_OjnKQ69C73DJMLc0boAg8VhWucmM0/s320/IMG_3534.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>There's flat Susan, all ready to go.</i></div>
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I set my alarm for 5 AM. Naturally I woke up many, many times before then. I got up and had two packets of oatmeal (you runners know why). I left the place, all packed up, at around 5:45 AM. I had to get on a bus between 6:00 and 6:30 to be driven to Lake Village, Arkansas. The half was to start on the Arkansas side of the Mississippi River. </div>
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Here's the thing about runners: they're my favorite people! I love, love, love talking to people who have race experiences similar to mine, i.e. folks who have traveled around doing different races in different places. They're full of good info and just plain GET IT. Don't get me wrong here. I love all kinds of people. But, these are MY people! Honestly, chatting with other runners on the bus was almost as good as crossing the finish line. </div>
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We got dropped off in Lake Village with roughly an hour to spare before the race. Fortunately, we could sit on the warm bus. We also had the opportunity to use the port-a-potties. It was a small race, so there was almost no line. That's a rarity! My oatmeal <i>worked</i>, let's just say.</div>
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Finally, it was time to start. The National Anthem was played, and we all made our way to the base of the bridge. We started promptly at 8 AM. The full marathoners also started, but 13.1 miles farther back. I love that concept because I knew that enetually the leaders of that race would zoom by me. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJtv0VU7ZI1r4TONlwAumwYzM9zSwpcYg_gN7tUqTZ2_UcjwTsLirzpzqyXnsljBOFaHL9zxMFl7omtjNgnGcEFLR2QdY5xWDoTSQA8ud1edi8Zfs0Q1Q3Fa4UnkXFJyHacq-X/s1600/IMG_3538.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJtv0VU7ZI1r4TONlwAumwYzM9zSwpcYg_gN7tUqTZ2_UcjwTsLirzpzqyXnsljBOFaHL9zxMFl7omtjNgnGcEFLR2QdY5xWDoTSQA8ud1edi8Zfs0Q1Q3Fa4UnkXFJyHacq-X/s320/IMG_3538.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Waiting to begin is so exciting!</i></div>
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One thing I read about this race was how flat it was. That appealed to me! It was very clear that the only hill would be the bridge itself. I must say that it wasn't that bad. Plus, it was a beautiful structure, and the view at 8 AM was so pretty.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizaJIpc76qGXZKlOxmTj1tjCtP8xRpqJdIko9O2Ac_Um0yHwwdE-QQqwuAtC2vIwW4oOCIPM-3VTYu9NOU4fPQJ_dJSZsbs7kK5OIMf2okewLU-6xs3KCvKLoz5BZepj5x6cNE/s1600/IMG_3539.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizaJIpc76qGXZKlOxmTj1tjCtP8xRpqJdIko9O2Ac_Um0yHwwdE-QQqwuAtC2vIwW4oOCIPM-3VTYu9NOU4fPQJ_dJSZsbs7kK5OIMf2okewLU-6xs3KCvKLoz5BZepj5x6cNE/s320/IMG_3539.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>The bridge was two miles long, give or take. One mile up, one mile down!</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimWgUIk6E1w3NHgP7ECGKNxopPr-LHz9M-W9bF6IZAJm26KHqDN_e21X-bdSg5RLUjlGdlbCNN6qgn9gf5oKaJF478b-JOS3jOFKrYy4Wcy50YXaA_61URvt4eZAtQ_-QsIFdy/s1600/IMG_3540.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimWgUIk6E1w3NHgP7ECGKNxopPr-LHz9M-W9bF6IZAJm26KHqDN_e21X-bdSg5RLUjlGdlbCNN6qgn9gf5oKaJF478b-JOS3jOFKrYy4Wcy50YXaA_61URvt4eZAtQ_-QsIFdy/s320/IMG_3540.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Good morning from the Mississippi River! I literally ran over it.</i></div>
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As an Arkansan transplanted to Mississippi nearly twelve years ago, I must point out one observation. I love my new state, but I must say that Mississippi waits a while to welcome you with signs like the one below. Arkansas, however, welcomes you the second you enter the state. After all, it's God's Country. Ha! </div>
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I'd never pass up the chance to photograph a port-a-potty and Mississippi together.</div>
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Roughly five miles after the bridge we ran along a highway. It was basically flat and boring. However, the water stops were plentiful, and everyone was so nice. Next we turned off into a residential area. The houses were really spread out, i.e. the residents had acreage. I kept thinking of how nice it probably was to live there. Also, at this point the winner of the full marathon zoomed past me. It was exciting! Another guy was not far behind him.</div>
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My favorite part of the course came next. We went into a gated community that reminded me of the Old South. The homes weren't incredibly old, but the streets were tree-lined, and it felt regal. Some of the water stops there were offering food, like fruit, cookies, etc. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxMQy79YA8fXSBf3re02TRcgoh1xeiuXwxPXY4s9Mv2vrxD3h6kPxjQL74ez6YIIqo1Qq0RsRVPvkuNppi19nwZaHsl1z_qBHdMlc-vVxAacDlwUYLTAJvEQqZ8Pyz_VG7PPcH/s1600/IMG_3543.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxMQy79YA8fXSBf3re02TRcgoh1xeiuXwxPXY4s9Mv2vrxD3h6kPxjQL74ez6YIIqo1Qq0RsRVPvkuNppi19nwZaHsl1z_qBHdMlc-vVxAacDlwUYLTAJvEQqZ8Pyz_VG7PPcH/s320/IMG_3543.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>I love this type of street.</i></div>
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Once I left this area, I had around three miles to go. Chump change! At that point, and even before then, I equated the remaining distance to a run in my area. For example, six miles was "a long morning of speedwork." Four miles was "a typical morning of speedwork." I swear - running is 90% mental. The trick is to keep your mind right. Thinking "Ugh, I have six miles to go" is not good for anyone! I prefer "I ONLY have six miles to go." Mindset, I tell ya! Two miles equated to "the end of my neighborhood and back." Easy peasy! </div>
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That said, I'd be remiss if I didn't learn that something one of my experienced bus mates had told us to be true. Once you turn onto Washington Avenue, at mile 12.5, I'd swear that finish line kept getting farther and farther away. Six tenths of a mile seemed to be about a hundred blocks away, but you could see it. What a dirty trick! LOL</div>
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I finally made it, and I was so proud for showing up, gutting it out, and not letting myself down. I have another race in the books, and I'll have a good base for marathon training in a few weeks. You gotta love a half marathon... the training is easier, obviously they don't take quite as long, and the recovery is much easier. I love to do a half every once in a while. It's a treat! As I told my non-runner friend, though, it's still an effort, and any distance is hard in the moment. I can stress myself out WAY more over a 5k than a full marathon. It may sound crazy, but it's my truth. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguwSKqPslqlLkneopQ9UiHfMpNtX-tjwgiMviYyezNMSZ2uaHmqJEfrOXbG2fj3M9d_-HIKJs4eQOUE_fA0-jurppdbFuOysdOn3Qp0Cz_yDXgz_lAC9ffSROk6WIld_URPZng/s1600/IMG_3545.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguwSKqPslqlLkneopQ9UiHfMpNtX-tjwgiMviYyezNMSZ2uaHmqJEfrOXbG2fj3M9d_-HIKJs4eQOUE_fA0-jurppdbFuOysdOn3Qp0Cz_yDXgz_lAC9ffSROk6WIld_URPZng/s320/IMG_3545.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Ah, finished!</i></div>
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At the expo I was able to get pizza and a drink. They had other fare, too. I was focused on getting home ASAP. After all, I had a slow, scenic drive ahead of me. One of the perks of a race with less than 600 entrants was being able to park so close to the finish line. Even after "just a half," this girl was getting sore!</div>
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<i>You can see the finish line from my car. Bliss!</i></div>
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I got in my car and barely made it to Clarksdale, Mississippi before I felt like I had to stop and take a cat nap. I literally laid my seat back and napped in a McDonald's parking lot for nearly an hour. I've never had to do that after a race before. However, only once before have I driven home a few hours immediately after running. I was younger then! LOL</div>
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<i>My beautiful medal!</i></div>
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<i>Isn't it gorgeous?!?!</i></div>
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I made it home and eventually "slept like the dead." I am happy to report that I did not get any blisters. While I definitely chafed, it was not the kind that makes you scream in the shower. That's a HUGE win! I was really sore yesterday, but today I am A-OK. That's also the perk of a half marathon. </div>
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Like I said before, I am so happy I ended up doing this race. The director and the volunteers executed it beautifully. I feel accomplished and happy. That's especially good for me as a working mom. It's so easy to get wrapped up in the necessary day to do tasks; I often put myself on the back burner. This was an opportunity for me to accomplish something that had nothing to do with work or family, and it felt great! </div>
Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516566884075321281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32790015.post-4230162868541679322019-10-21T23:02:00.001-05:002019-10-21T23:02:58.326-05:00Detroit Free Press/TCF Bank Marathon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
On Sunday I was finally able to run the <a href="https://www.freepmarathon.com/" target="_blank">Detroit Free Press/TCF Bank Marathon</a>. It has been a bucket list race for me for many years. After finally getting back to running about a year ago, I knew it was high time to check Michigan off my 50 states quest. </div>
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To be completely honest this was not the easiest race to train for because of the timeline. Being that it takes place in October, one must begin training in July. It was miserably hot and humid for the vast majority of my training season. In fact I had a genuine pity party about two weeks into it. I felt that I simply could NOT train in such conditions (even though I have certainly done it before). It made me really assess what I truly wanted; I had to dig deep if I was going to make it happen. </div>
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Even then it wasn't the easiest of training seasons. Many runs did not happen. The ones that did were not stellar. I was lucky to make it to 18 or 20 miles tops. The ONLY shining victory was the fact that I grew to loathe speedwork less. That's huge for this girl! </div>
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For twelve weeks I doubted my ability to run this race. I regretted purchasing my airline ticket. I waited until it was too late to secure lodging (unless I was a Rockefeller). I thought I was too slow and heavy to run this race. </div>
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The kicker for me was logic. If I deferred to 2020, 2021, or even longer, this race would always require me to train through July, August, and Septmber, i.e. it was never going to be any better. I might as well make a go of it. However, my confidence was shot and I had as much self-doubt as any three people combined. I kept my plans under wraps for fear of "public failure." I only discussed this race and my plans with the people I speak with every.single.day. I referred to it as my "secret marathon." </div>
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As fearful as I was, I boarded a plane on Saturday. For all of my fourteen prvious marathons, I was excited. This was a whole new ballgame for me. Fear has never been my middle name... until now. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyDzlzMK749xsTEB-LbbQ2l0fE8a7oU70aoUrYvtei23qkedDQ38uUGM2jwT8eJ9NDSN4fhZmyXuQZhmxBj9XO-4C-_aFgoTELZVZP0VUpCw_K9KPosLBufpnbXLDzZKgTMFIN/s1600/IMG_2044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyDzlzMK749xsTEB-LbbQ2l0fE8a7oU70aoUrYvtei23qkedDQ38uUGM2jwT8eJ9NDSN4fhZmyXuQZhmxBj9XO-4C-_aFgoTELZVZP0VUpCw_K9KPosLBufpnbXLDzZKgTMFIN/s320/IMG_2044.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>The expo was large and motivational.</i></div>
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I went to the expo and felt like a fake. I expressed my concerns to one gentleman, and he said, "Just do what you can do, and run a smart race." Is there more any of us can do? </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxPtKWe0AFXDv5uTdqXfz1WGCejpx0lLn6EYsXn37zW7Tcqe5EGiirp7R3EDcq4gvK49yHEQvrIMButA7jToa3slWj4jRjXgz7YwnFZhYOn4WUIVbSmBTqJHEVSHVdXP3nd26A/s1600/IMG_2045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxPtKWe0AFXDv5uTdqXfz1WGCejpx0lLn6EYsXn37zW7Tcqe5EGiirp7R3EDcq4gvK49yHEQvrIMButA7jToa3slWj4jRjXgz7YwnFZhYOn4WUIVbSmBTqJHEVSHVdXP3nd26A/s320/IMG_2045.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Of course I had to snap a photo in front of the flag of Denmark, since our current excnahge student is from there.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBwKQLx1AajdAfKPjH0vW3Z8Xmx02TX4IA_Xy1wM1mh6CnfbrYONUnTDXkdRjpbgPSIsYlpmot7B1ku91z6s5rkDHTqs4PJA8yMkSDgblLfXsw-5JXxwAtAX80f3itWWxP6uQH/s1600/IMG_2046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBwKQLx1AajdAfKPjH0vW3Z8Xmx02TX4IA_Xy1wM1mh6CnfbrYONUnTDXkdRjpbgPSIsYlpmot7B1ku91z6s5rkDHTqs4PJA8yMkSDgblLfXsw-5JXxwAtAX80f3itWWxP6uQH/s320/IMG_2046.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Seeing the finisher's medal up close was excellent. Would I earn one?</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtJZOw0gq400P_vC6nOhnZ_s4ft0FvjtdyVym-iqfjXy5wpgvVaGgaAdqY7khMeEPbJC-uOOBF7DQKkH_piOS3oTxmJ9-n1mQFksS-dO_74a1i5x3QdnGJGFcC7Zf8LE82qgyq/s1600/IMG_2047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtJZOw0gq400P_vC6nOhnZ_s4ft0FvjtdyVym-iqfjXy5wpgvVaGgaAdqY7khMeEPbJC-uOOBF7DQKkH_piOS3oTxmJ9-n1mQFksS-dO_74a1i5x3QdnGJGFcC7Zf8LE82qgyq/s320/IMG_2047.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>The question was, "What drives you to run?" My answer is on the white paper.</i></div>
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Like I said, I waited until less than two weeks out to try to get a hotel room. When that plan obviously failed, I reached out to my friend Molly. She hosted me back in 2011 when I had an overnight layover in Detroit. She didn't hesitate for a second. She even arranged for us to stay at her dad's home, since he was as easy drive from the course. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv7wsIPHg3-tF6_Kfqgx3_xf5kLd-_T40WVNHEW0g7x_X1mPtvODfq-cVV1jH7I2J1UWyX3vqjeR1SAsjaVN6yqxe4gwPA8nnAM5bsl5Ii4w8h6xkJJ-KVWeXcH8i_mUEC-oEy/s1600/IMG_2050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv7wsIPHg3-tF6_Kfqgx3_xf5kLd-_T40WVNHEW0g7x_X1mPtvODfq-cVV1jH7I2J1UWyX3vqjeR1SAsjaVN6yqxe4gwPA8nnAM5bsl5Ii4w8h6xkJJ-KVWeXcH8i_mUEC-oEy/s320/IMG_2050.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>I unloaded all of my race swag on my bed in her dad's home.</i></div>
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Not only did sweet Molly host me, but she also let me be her "plus one" at a pre-race dinner that night. We went to a gorgeous home in the area and were treated to a scrumptious, home cooked meal.</div>
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<i>Check out my awesome friend and that incredible view!</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi9Gl_2TkgRFucOARK3opGz5rQc5ckrSxM7q_S-HOnZdRedUISHKoms4zAVgw4AtQT5gK0udAlDFubZYtJBkrzD4JNPvv5E0dcuyDo_bpE7kYFKt8Td0PZjARGKIhrB1Pp5Ul0/s1600/IMG_2056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi9Gl_2TkgRFucOARK3opGz5rQc5ckrSxM7q_S-HOnZdRedUISHKoms4zAVgw4AtQT5gK0udAlDFubZYtJBkrzD4JNPvv5E0dcuyDo_bpE7kYFKt8Td0PZjARGKIhrB1Pp5Ul0/s320/IMG_2056.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>I sat among Molly and fourteen new friends. It was so cool!</i></div>
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I slept decently that night. Naturally I woke up at least three times, though. It's my norm! My alarm "finally" went off at 5:15 AM EST (that's 4:15 AM for my body), and I tiptoed out of the house around 5:45 AM. My reserved parking spot ended up being 1.1 miles from the start. It was no big deal, though, due to the energy of the morning. </div>
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I got into my corral and thought, "Well, what will be will be." I prayed A LOT about this race. I prayed the week before, the night before, the morning of, and even during the race. Have you ever prayed while running? You should! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7gj5yvuN7tXMzgKeNRRz1uVwiVVbO10jLIWWqNJLTCYDohPxFgPKq1CnczrqF5lPDio7owxm6GqeaFcWthpGKhovVq0COFcAoZAha8ULWWy9ji45zqskkmmsc0uP5J-EdXdkT/s1600/IMG_2062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7gj5yvuN7tXMzgKeNRRz1uVwiVVbO10jLIWWqNJLTCYDohPxFgPKq1CnczrqF5lPDio7owxm6GqeaFcWthpGKhovVq0COFcAoZAha8ULWWy9ji45zqskkmmsc0uP5J-EdXdkT/s320/IMG_2062.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>We started before the sun rose. That was new for me.</i></div>
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Once my corral crossed the start line, something unprecedented happened. I got a little emotional! After all I was FINALLY doing this particular race. Everyone had way more confidence in me than I did in myself. I think I literally felt their positive vibes as I started running. I didn't even take a walk break for quite a while. I was amazed. </div>
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I was feeling very good out there. It was flat as a pancake, cool and breezy. That's a Southerner's dream! Before I knew it we were to head up the ramp to the Ambassador Bridge to Windsor, Ontario. I just couldn't believe that I was going to do it! </div>
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<i>The bridge was one of the three inclines along the course.</i></div>
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<i>I'm literally on a bridge that separates two countries!</i></div>
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The good news about an incline of a bridge is that it must come back down on the other side. I hustled down it into Canada. Canada, eh! We were required to run with our passports. No one was stopped at the border, to my knowledge. </div>
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<i>Yep, that's Canada. They were blaring "Sweet Caroline" as I passed the entrance.</i></div>
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We ran several miles in Windsor, Ontario. It culminated with running down into the Windsor Tunnel back to the USA. Not only was it downhill (until the middle), but obviously it gave me the opportunity to lay claim to running under the water. How cool!</div>
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<i>It was cool and rather lively running in the tunnel.</i></div>
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Of course, at the midpoint we had to run UP to the land. That was the second incline of the day. Getting out of the tunnel was a long-awaited, much-anticipated victory for me. You see, they had to open the tunnel up to traffic at a certain time. If anyone wasn't out by then, they would be asked to leave the course. </div>
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<i>I did it! I beat the cutoff!</i></div>
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After a little more time in downtown, the half marathoners turned off to finish their race. That is always a somber moment for me. You can hear their finish line hooplah, yet you still have another 13.1 miles to go. It was OK, though, because this day was unlike any other. I finally took my own advice and tried to truly run the mile I was in. The miles went by quickly, and I was feeling good. Yes - I was actually feeling good! What the what?!?! Not only was I concentrating on the individual miles, but I was also focusing on taking one Gu every three miles. That broke up the entire distance into smaller increments for me. </div>
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Soon we went to my favorite part of the course: Indian Village. It's a neighborhood of gorgeous, historic homes. I could have stayed in there all day! I was thoroughly enjoying viewing the homes and the fall foliage.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaNcEl-NE_mD6VCsaHaXdh1wDT38k5jfw5ZkEOLX_SrLCz0IhhK_G4is-73CYZGS2ZzZ7vcQ_La7m2yBWWzTOJPjLe9nr0hLV_DAEtPGstRRRxi67PCn2V3ce07ySI0tIXArkx/s1600/IMG_2076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaNcEl-NE_mD6VCsaHaXdh1wDT38k5jfw5ZkEOLX_SrLCz0IhhK_G4is-73CYZGS2ZzZ7vcQ_La7m2yBWWzTOJPjLe9nr0hLV_DAEtPGstRRRxi67PCn2V3ce07ySI0tIXArkx/s320/IMG_2076.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Unlike Mississippi, Michigan is actually getting a fall season this year.</i></div>
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Somewhere past the halfway mark, my lower left back started to hurt. I wondered if it was a kidney. I asked a medic what she thought. She thought it was possible, but most likely just a muscular issue. The astonishing thing was that the ONLY thing hurting was that. Again, I ask you, what the what?!?! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiimP-DaaqFrlgrOee5o9ZxP_7Pyrn9PRgtIzozp_ICKZAJkooy2omjWoNrq4to2Lyq_6m3BykTFd_CDHchymkYE9EIWGVMvnm_-eewMcOnNOpwfZ9Nqx0qUTn0WYnK11zrN4hO/s1600/IMG_2078.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiimP-DaaqFrlgrOee5o9ZxP_7Pyrn9PRgtIzozp_ICKZAJkooy2omjWoNrq4to2Lyq_6m3BykTFd_CDHchymkYE9EIWGVMvnm_-eewMcOnNOpwfZ9Nqx0qUTn0WYnK11zrN4hO/s320/IMG_2078.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Mile 17 is always special to me because it means I only have single digits left to go.</i></div>
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In the teens my thought was, "Wow, the next thing I know, I'll be to mile 20." Then 20 came, and I was looking forward to 21 because I could take another Gu. There was always a little victory to be had. This was truly the race of the positive attitude! Having only one thing hurting also helped tremdously. In the past EVERYTHING has hurt by mile 20, if not sooner. </div>
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"Just five miles to go!" I couldn't believe that I was feeling so alive, hadn't hit the wall, and was still HAPPY. That can only be attributed to the power of prayer! Even going up the third and final incline of the day into Belle Isle was a good experience.</div>
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I will admit that after Belle Isle and the riverfront area with no spectators, I was quite ready to be done. It was mile 24 or so, meaning I had taken my last Gu, so my little victories were waning thin. My mind knew that two more miles were nothing, but my body was ready to be at the finish line already. This is the point of the race when, frankly, Ms. Positive isn't so nice anymore. It was the final countdown, so to speak. </div>
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Then it was a mile and a half... then just a mile... then a half a mile... then just a few more downtown blocks to turn through. I finally asked a lady, in an exasperated way, "Where is it?" Only a fool would not know that I was referring to the finish line. She happily replied, "Just around the corner!" Thanks goodness!</div>
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There it was; the finish line. It was still there. It hadn't been disassembled already. There were spectators, the announcer, photographers, and -- most importantly -- volunteers handing out medals! When I was within close enough proximity to break into a run, I got emotional yet again. I was doing it! I had done it! No sweeper van, no dying muscles, no defeated attitude. FInish #15 was steps away!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfBR4tacnbGz6kg14KgBXyfj88l09Ozj2pRP1n3yQSsCUAP8IuXEeBFlOmLegvOBu8Dy0lPBmaFoep0PED0Hff0vTSsiB3qxueHxsrB_65uixLohikS-cIMHlQ0efXS1o7ECoK/s1600/IMG_2080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfBR4tacnbGz6kg14KgBXyfj88l09Ozj2pRP1n3yQSsCUAP8IuXEeBFlOmLegvOBu8Dy0lPBmaFoep0PED0Hff0vTSsiB3qxueHxsrB_65uixLohikS-cIMHlQ0efXS1o7ECoK/s320/IMG_2080.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>I did it! It was the best marathon of my 40's for sure!</i></div>
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I called my husband and let him know that I was done. What a relief! All that worrying had affected so many areas of my life, and now the burden was completely lifted. This marathon did not get the better of me. Onward and upward!</div>
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The 1.1 mile walk back to my rental car was more like a crawl. It didn't matter, though, because I was on top of the world. I did it, I did it!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7zf2esQt2xdfPeGnPbiQS42EccJrTcyVtW0urUQ-8MIgRRZjEHaTvWVEXH80nYROrq5vNXoRkX42QIYbDWeHv_QljM9vVmx_N6brVDY_flYHuz5HWwQfbsNfgTALw7lZd2neP/s1600/IMG_2085.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7zf2esQt2xdfPeGnPbiQS42EccJrTcyVtW0urUQ-8MIgRRZjEHaTvWVEXH80nYROrq5vNXoRkX42QIYbDWeHv_QljM9vVmx_N6brVDY_flYHuz5HWwQfbsNfgTALw7lZd2neP/s320/IMG_2085.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>There ya go! It's my first international race.</i></div>
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I got back to Molly's dad's home and got cleaned up. We went to one of her childhood favorites, <a href="https://www.nationalconeyisland.com/" target="_blank">National Coney Island</a>, for lunch. She remarked how I sounded really good when I voice messaged her near the end of the race. What can I say? It was MY DAY! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuYcze665iZOqOFU3PXtVqmlu4PkifpuXWzVSTs8iRqyBhIt9fb6GEqVxVsZJFkoSwLsF8splIHLHBurZiKA132I9_z2yY_Tw6cUG-LzgnsgvMZvHAQFjUOMAAhahPMRtcJyQf/s1600/IMG_2089.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuYcze665iZOqOFU3PXtVqmlu4PkifpuXWzVSTs8iRqyBhIt9fb6GEqVxVsZJFkoSwLsF8splIHLHBurZiKA132I9_z2yY_Tw6cUG-LzgnsgvMZvHAQFjUOMAAhahPMRtcJyQf/s320/IMG_2089.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Sweet Molly and I</i></div>
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I have such a good taste in my mouth about Detroit. Molly gave me a tour of beautiful lakefront areas, I met such nice people, and my faith and confidence in my running has been restored. That's more than I could have dreamed would happen. Even a day later, I couldn't be happer!</div>
Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516566884075321281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32790015.post-49525491233113729832019-06-02T20:40:00.001-05:002019-06-02T20:43:04.403-05:00Navy Ten Nautical Miler<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Today Chasen and I completed the <a href="https://thenavy10nm.racesonline.com/" target="_blank">Navy Ten Nautical Miler</a> around and on the naval base in Millington, Tennessee. As always I will tell you WHY I chose to do this race: simply put, it is local and has an AWESOME medal. As such, it was a bucket list race for me. Once Chasen caught wind of it, he decided to join me. I really enjoy getting to do races with him!</div>
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Because the race begins at 6 AM (yawn), we opted to drive up yesterday to the expo. I did not want to run the risk of being late today and not being able to get my bib, etc. It's about an hour away, and one never knows how morning traffic will be. We were both quite pleased with the race swag!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO8QLXveFG0TX8xaLyVRVNMJZ_nPisEa5h4JftdoGYQYtJ09owxzC4Q4aGEXzgyptMrhD2rS7sS4LC0-LvKLKT7ZUeJQlT4L7w24mFps__MVwx-eZQUv8_hdiFbgwuYMnXEQvJ/s1600/IMG_9067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO8QLXveFG0TX8xaLyVRVNMJZ_nPisEa5h4JftdoGYQYtJ09owxzC4Q4aGEXzgyptMrhD2rS7sS4LC0-LvKLKT7ZUeJQlT4L7w24mFps__MVwx-eZQUv8_hdiFbgwuYMnXEQvJ/s1600/IMG_9067.JPG" /></a><br />
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<i>Those are a lot of goodies!</i></div>
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Today we got up at 3:30 AM (double yawn). Oh, the things I do for running! We had to leave at 4:30 AM, and I wanted to eat and make sure my oatmeal had time to settle. Then, a minor miracle happened. We actually left a few minutes before 4:30! I am an early bird (when I have to be), but Chasen is NOT. Thus the minor miracle...</div>
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<i><br /></i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIx2ZgQxTAUFUK8bnmzKUgyiD7a3YchybYqbC_2Z6OnEO7eES2oLoFG0YpPhv0rqe7P0PCE4qHXuv_I86nSS2jCGdBqgWwWyMeLAqI2AEmPyZgHx4Ut_2hfg5VPdkzWiZn0SYi/s1600/IMG_9070.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIx2ZgQxTAUFUK8bnmzKUgyiD7a3YchybYqbC_2Z6OnEO7eES2oLoFG0YpPhv0rqe7P0PCE4qHXuv_I86nSS2jCGdBqgWwWyMeLAqI2AEmPyZgHx4Ut_2hfg5VPdkzWiZn0SYi/s1600/IMG_9070.jpg" /></a></div>
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<i>We got to park a few hundred feet from the start line!</i></div>
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<i><br /></i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkdIpkCD2B5OZJPj-djDFD0MftdhllZNUHjwfExAdSj5rv_f2XYTyhAfeDBd93CgrhPhDECX8hKcTjmSE6Hv-bMTIK5hgDsos6sszAqG3K8MJlegyUJmXqmdFRHwPac4mWIN7y/s1600/IMG_9071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkdIpkCD2B5OZJPj-djDFD0MftdhllZNUHjwfExAdSj5rv_f2XYTyhAfeDBd93CgrhPhDECX8hKcTjmSE6Hv-bMTIK5hgDsos6sszAqG3K8MJlegyUJmXqmdFRHwPac4mWIN7y/s1600/IMG_9071.JPG" /></a></div>
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<i>Here we are before the race, fresh as tired daisies.</i></div>
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Before the race a Naval Chaplain sang us his rendeition of Elvis's "Are You Lonesome Tonight?" that ended with something like, "Runner Dear, You'll Need Motrin Tonight." We all roared. He did a great job, as well as with the prayer. The lady who did the National Anthem also did an outstanding job. </div>
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I'd be remiss if I didn't say that it actually felt almost COOL at the start of the race. 68F with only 81% humidity is quite a treat for the Memphis area! I knew the heat would rise, so I aimed to enjoy the lower temps while I could. I was doing a conservative run-walk ratio and feeling GREAT!</div>
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<i><br /></i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinfY6bHKA5uASPImfJ3KwH2CGWFXZcEAJkz__AwGbFGuPumlSsKNZj1gv-it_zHq8RfcMWK5pRSK1CTSM9wqrxQ9fE5HycSjMT2OT2rMAlg6xkiC1apgdc_ppJtrT6xlzLGZi8/s1600/IMG_9072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinfY6bHKA5uASPImfJ3KwH2CGWFXZcEAJkz__AwGbFGuPumlSsKNZj1gv-it_zHq8RfcMWK5pRSK1CTSM9wqrxQ9fE5HycSjMT2OT2rMAlg6xkiC1apgdc_ppJtrT6xlzLGZi8/s1600/IMG_9072.JPG" /></a></div>
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<i>One nautical mile is 1.15 land miles, FYI. Learn something new every day!</i></div>
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Because I was expecting it to be super hot, I was quite surprised at how well I felt for the longest time. I was taking Powerade at every stop, which was at each nautical mile, plus drinking my own water and having an occasional Gu. It dawned on me that this was the perfect day to close out my racing season, because I could bookend the middle two difficult races with successes. That's a great feeling to have as you are passing people!</div>
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We ran around the "military town" of Millington, and we even ran on base a bit. This event was very well staffed with both civilian police officers and military volunteers at literally every turn. I can't say enough good things about the organization of it all. Of course, I would expect nothing less from the U.S. Navy! </div>
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There was actually quite a bit of shade on the course until the very end. At this point I did not feel so great, since the temperature was indeed rising. Once I got to land mile 10, which is just before nautical mile 9, I felt my body getting really warm for a second. This is how my brain works: I literally thought to myself, "If I pass out, I won't get my medal." So, I began to mostly walk. I could surely make it just over one more land mile!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuSWKM7mEHLkWnJjtr4KiNpbH5t_B4neIYxlPFj84mqQfIDl4Xi-LI7M_G4MoyYokF1bz8CCNUPaG6QZTSs0Vg-YdsHDTdbhgNXYs3hV5gOuNdXcR_E5HpW4UGwr7MNCMGBe1K/s1600/IMG_9073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuSWKM7mEHLkWnJjtr4KiNpbH5t_B4neIYxlPFj84mqQfIDl4Xi-LI7M_G4MoyYokF1bz8CCNUPaG6QZTSs0Vg-YdsHDTdbhgNXYs3hV5gOuNdXcR_E5HpW4UGwr7MNCMGBe1K/s1600/IMG_9073.JPG" /></a><br />
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<i>Almost there! In full sun! Ick. </i></div>
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It's kind of tough to be "almost there" when you feel like you're out of gas. All you can do it keep on putting one foot in front of the other, ya know. So, I did. I finally got to the point where I knew it was one more straightaway, and then a sharp turn to the finish line. I could hear the hooplah, and I was ready for it! </div>
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Because this race had a four hour time limit, it was very walker friendly. Thus, I had a lot of people behind me since I only started fully walking at the end. I smoothed out my shirt and shorts, turned that sharp corner, and tried to book it to the finish line. Done! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ_0kKgcdA-B2id2xsVNZj9yLnvtIq_MW960M_4qpl5nNLn_9m8YJ0OvyTaKckNZB2YqBieOJ4F5pOTHeb_bRUljKbP3ns9ebRwj3SGWRJNZhHXQgVr7wfRQw9srWMbDHQF9fb/s1600/IMG_0575.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ_0kKgcdA-B2id2xsVNZj9yLnvtIq_MW960M_4qpl5nNLn_9m8YJ0OvyTaKckNZB2YqBieOJ4F5pOTHeb_bRUljKbP3ns9ebRwj3SGWRJNZhHXQgVr7wfRQw9srWMbDHQF9fb/s1600/IMG_0575.JPG" /></a></div>
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<i>Just wait until you see that beautiful medal!</i></div>
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I met up with Chasen who was, of course, way ahead of me and had already completed the race (on basically no training, might I add). We went into the cool expo area again and got more drinks and snacks. It was GREAT to be out of the sun! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Y5g3cA05Wrgxj3TBZ-vZPb21zWTJs-XuVanjL-VRpmWGId1uD6rktWRkcsNy2FzUeJRPZw_3HsJjeKtpv49KQLGJ3IbR-GJg1q5aahPR1YEvsX0G2oc07p_c3XiwFsTosT18/s1600/IMG_0582.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Y5g3cA05Wrgxj3TBZ-vZPb21zWTJs-XuVanjL-VRpmWGId1uD6rktWRkcsNy2FzUeJRPZw_3HsJjeKtpv49KQLGJ3IbR-GJg1q5aahPR1YEvsX0G2oc07p_c3XiwFsTosT18/s1600/IMG_0582.JPG" /></a></div>
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<i>Since this was my first nautical mile rice, by golly I set a PR!</i></div>
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<i><br /></i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7CW5SxDU9qcmauIeZKEMDdfzGFJ3o_T2m-letWOs-QL4jwaQ7CC9Gbpg4eH30KghgLb5pPxw7Kk0gU72qbxNMq5B9CwNB5BIruVFMIE0QervkwWAO8lP_hQKX7GdAF3co-LH1/s1600/IMG_9081.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7CW5SxDU9qcmauIeZKEMDdfzGFJ3o_T2m-letWOs-QL4jwaQ7CC9Gbpg4eH30KghgLb5pPxw7Kk0gU72qbxNMq5B9CwNB5BIruVFMIE0QervkwWAO8lP_hQKX7GdAF3co-LH1/s1600/IMG_9081.JPG" /></a></div>
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<i>There is my handsome husband!</i></div>
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It was so nice to not have a ridiculously long walk to Chasen's truck. That's a first! We got in the air conditioning and headed home. The best part was that we got to talk about the race the entire time. I love being able to do things with my hubby! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcUgJDroxFglIzUeJvKxsCiI82rIXHOuKZgtJxZ5X8JFVER1NCtA-ul-iA0eTM0b8qyfii3gUeJiFkIM-azdKC7WI1qzhwTQbmBeupQ14em2yEFm6TB6Yl0xgYr29cFkafGR45/s1600/IMG_9087.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcUgJDroxFglIzUeJvKxsCiI82rIXHOuKZgtJxZ5X8JFVER1NCtA-ul-iA0eTM0b8qyfii3gUeJiFkIM-azdKC7WI1qzhwTQbmBeupQ14em2yEFm6TB6Yl0xgYr29cFkafGR45/s1600/IMG_9087.JPG" /></a></div>
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<i>Ba-bam! Look at that gorgeous thing!</i> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkVvAGOvUFZsa0NvvtgBXJ9X-ht1sX5AjoPw0rbAC5U5rczeq6nXGlDME2SlVY7n1SDJFb2JzBR9t1RRrHlbqUxcZm__n30vKnXzOjMrjRRXruva4f5wewLgLHOSj0SdPKDN9y/s1600/IMG_9088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkVvAGOvUFZsa0NvvtgBXJ9X-ht1sX5AjoPw0rbAC5U5rczeq6nXGlDME2SlVY7n1SDJFb2JzBR9t1RRrHlbqUxcZm__n30vKnXzOjMrjRRXruva4f5wewLgLHOSj0SdPKDN9y/s1600/IMG_9088.JPG" /></a></div>
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<i>This is the perfect way to end spring/summer 2019 racing.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitJIR93dICwCFsKXFjjDPI-sgpegmDFVxnjtTkdCNCcIKaaLr3SwL4qlARPs1ZL1bk6bZ-qFWNtuV30pfHGUmpnkEJ9DMoCfh0uuMynEHhuD9Z-G13rEfv4Rww5fgQV8Wk2qxj/s1600/IMG_9089.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitJIR93dICwCFsKXFjjDPI-sgpegmDFVxnjtTkdCNCcIKaaLr3SwL4qlARPs1ZL1bk6bZ-qFWNtuV30pfHGUmpnkEJ9DMoCfh0uuMynEHhuD9Z-G13rEfv4Rww5fgQV8Wk2qxj/s1600/IMG_9089.JPG" /></a></div>
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<i>The opposite side of the ribbon... Hooyah!</i></div>
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Now I have about eight weeks to simply base train before I get into my fall training season. These past four races have been such a long time coming; I can't wait to see how the rest of the year pans out!</div>
Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516566884075321281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32790015.post-9250406861673641382019-05-25T20:43:00.001-05:002019-05-25T20:43:05.450-05:00Great American River Run Half Marathon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I didn't know this race existed until about a month ago. I received an email about it from a local running store. When I saw the cool orange t-shirt and the <i>medal</i>, I knew I had to do it! It's a part of the <a href="https://www.memphisinmay.org/" target="_blank">Memphis In May International Festival</a>. Anyone who knows anything about Memphis knows that Memphis In May is a HUGE deal. Even though I knew it would be brutally hot, I knew I just HAD to do the <a href="https://www.memphisinmay.org/events/great-american-river-run/half-marathon/" target="_blank">2019 #MIMGARR Half Marathon</a>. Chasen opted to do the <a href="https://www.memphisinmay.org/events/great-american-river-run/5k/" target="_blank">2019 #MIMGARR 5k</a>. It would start just thirty minutes after my half.</div>
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Yesterday I ventured down to the historic <a href="https://www.peabodymemphis.com/" target="_blank">Peabody Hotel</a> to the race expo. It's an easy drive for me. Even though it was wicked hot outside, the Peabody garage is nicely appointed with an air conditioned walkway into the main building. Score! I made my way to the hall and picked up our goods.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEU96U_1ATHNBAeTPXl3YfUm7_edeDEAd4PsqnjzNoocvz2y_mxKw3EiTncotM90seTZpCIkH6Od5En4PC0D_MzGjsOWKPBIph8q_fG5J2Bn9LFVLItbujLkZkE8jQN8XAMj7O/s1600/IMG_8947.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEU96U_1ATHNBAeTPXl3YfUm7_edeDEAd4PsqnjzNoocvz2y_mxKw3EiTncotM90seTZpCIkH6Od5En4PC0D_MzGjsOWKPBIph8q_fG5J2Bn9LFVLItbujLkZkE8jQN8XAMj7O/s320/IMG_8947.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>It was a rather small expo, but not the smallest I have seen.</i></div>
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I was in and out in a flash. It took less than thirty minutes, and I got free parking. Double score!</div>
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Chasen and I left our home just past 6 AM this morning. Phew. That's highly unusual for us. We found street parking and headed to the Mississippi River. I thought we had oodles of time. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgewT21b_vY0-YFzn1nOIu5nCU2ynS6aE1NxaPlMLdhw4q70-6TI_b2RcmCsfwMIFWNfrnbKnbQlXz5sq2oGyZsAz0biTIVolAq_3bGPxgdWjxr2714A77Ojhxg13BvMLv4O64B/s1600/IMG_8950.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgewT21b_vY0-YFzn1nOIu5nCU2ynS6aE1NxaPlMLdhw4q70-6TI_b2RcmCsfwMIFWNfrnbKnbQlXz5sq2oGyZsAz0biTIVolAq_3bGPxgdWjxr2714A77Ojhxg13BvMLv4O64B/s320/IMG_8950.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Here are other runners ambling to the start. They must be 5k'ers.</i></div>
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After a quick visit to the port-o-potty, I noticed that it was 6:57 AM. My half was to start at 7 AM. I could neither see nor hear the start line. Oh no! I started walking much faster until I heard the start line hoopla. When I arrived the race had started by two minutes thirty seconds. Oh well... nothing I could do about it at that point.</div>
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This course went through so many noteworthy parts of downtown Memphis. The first little bit went through historic Beale Street. You can NOT visit Memphis without at least driving by Beale Street. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYIXZmmErX4SAxl6kFillFB08wPrqbt6P0eaox4SKLFSf0FIdJ9qWbrbUJl0Oaiwjb1NLb9WDDKcdfI68mKNIma8yth7iBCTOGpeboZr5lzuRa1IfSu0mG-fe7Ji7uRU9n8VUJ/s1600/IMG_8951.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYIXZmmErX4SAxl6kFillFB08wPrqbt6P0eaox4SKLFSf0FIdJ9qWbrbUJl0Oaiwjb1NLb9WDDKcdfI68mKNIma8yth7iBCTOGpeboZr5lzuRa1IfSu0mG-fe7Ji7uRU9n8VUJ/s320/IMG_8951.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Home of the Blues</i></div>
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From very early on we were offered wet towels. We received a weather advisory via email yesterday. I knew it would be brutal, so I altered my race strategy from "give em hell" to "let's not die today." Just keeping it real! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-phQ6wVOilmsyA3mcCUqlrFl_qFsIie_TsE1iBTqrEYvOkFL4KYzLLFKtbs2qufnX_Xuc8WZYVHhMEkOLqoQx2ifMwj8BNVeg2sQZ55bD2LPkYJmcoh_lS3RiwPZ4_jxJH-hL/s1600/IMG_8952.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-phQ6wVOilmsyA3mcCUqlrFl_qFsIie_TsE1iBTqrEYvOkFL4KYzLLFKtbs2qufnX_Xuc8WZYVHhMEkOLqoQx2ifMwj8BNVeg2sQZ55bD2LPkYJmcoh_lS3RiwPZ4_jxJH-hL/s320/IMG_8952.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Here is a shot of downtown from afar. </i></div>
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After I got out of downtown a bit, I discovered what possibly very few people know: where all of the downtown carriage horses reside. There was a least a solid mile of odoriferous reminder of livestock. At one water stop I asked a lady, "When does the manure smell end?" I was serious. Phew. At that same water stop, a lady had a baggie of pills. I thought they might be salt tablets, but what she offered me was ibuprofen. I found that odd. I declined. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQVWSZ7jtRLTwIxA-gFSfHXJG6H3SU71cmKK_Ql5iTK1_Tn5IvdouuzSfHr1npPQeQ59goJd8LS7Zh6AUi5fDCe4qp1xutcp-G7EogXmhG004m16re5abWcboT3jepCuMM3uq9/s1600/IMG_8953.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQVWSZ7jtRLTwIxA-gFSfHXJG6H3SU71cmKK_Ql5iTK1_Tn5IvdouuzSfHr1npPQeQ59goJd8LS7Zh6AUi5fDCe4qp1xutcp-G7EogXmhG004m16re5abWcboT3jepCuMM3uq9/s320/IMG_8953.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Har dee har har!</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9zcXuRSsNWfI4Gt9oayac9DsqneVYFL9Qcm2gf0fcHwWrmPXUdMwqwtMa8RO7B_sUZREp-CZnxfG54DRZ_QgehbbX1RiXo28sK-WeYwVJNz1IM-C_h873V-2uyeWosKTnjin2/s1600/IMG_8954.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9zcXuRSsNWfI4Gt9oayac9DsqneVYFL9Qcm2gf0fcHwWrmPXUdMwqwtMa8RO7B_sUZREp-CZnxfG54DRZ_QgehbbX1RiXo28sK-WeYwVJNz1IM-C_h873V-2uyeWosKTnjin2/s320/IMG_8954.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>I certainly do! LOL</i></div>
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After the miles of manure I was routed to beautiful Harbor Town. It's a lovely, well kept part of Memphis right along the Mississippi River, just south of downtown. I've heard people say that they live in Harbor Town so that they can be in Memphis without having to be IN Memphis. So be it!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuVc73_lbgKULsGLGvZR2ldmNLtyt8I-am4tZmIdET3MKXDy6pQEGoVEw79v_XK3KebjWQKGDaAbLfTzK4Rw9vvx4d7mv8lyVuzpO0NkjmOScewMdPYMEKOaUFLXr77P4mw27l/s1600/IMG_8955.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuVc73_lbgKULsGLGvZR2ldmNLtyt8I-am4tZmIdET3MKXDy6pQEGoVEw79v_XK3KebjWQKGDaAbLfTzK4Rw9vvx4d7mv8lyVuzpO0NkjmOScewMdPYMEKOaUFLXr77P4mw27l/s320/IMG_8955.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>That's the I-40 bridge you see in the distance.</i></div>
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Just part a water stop manned by the Hash House Harriers, which was the BEST stop because they had a cooling fan, I had to go up the A. W. Willis Avenue bridge. I caught a look at it and made a horrible face. One Harrier said, "Oh, you got this!" Bless him.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxUtGCYvxRUKDYOjhwRNxH6RT_v1Vler9UzsbG_752F81wXwfkr6noPgXait4fmbBykOd9fG7aZkbrdqtMsQjX-iOwRBcNR4RuUrPA79O0cjEggGftn1UVgeJ9xcrwwtRvn9Em/s1600/IMG_8956.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxUtGCYvxRUKDYOjhwRNxH6RT_v1Vler9UzsbG_752F81wXwfkr6noPgXait4fmbBykOd9fG7aZkbrdqtMsQjX-iOwRBcNR4RuUrPA79O0cjEggGftn1UVgeJ9xcrwwtRvn9Em/s320/IMG_8956.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>It's as bad as it looks, but I made it up and down.</i></div>
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By this point I was at mile 11. This was when I was to call Chasen, who went home to get a well-deserved shower after smokin' his 5k. Oh how I envied him! It was very much a "one foot in front of the other" day for me. The temperature continued to rise. The sun is not my friend. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUMYrfPsS_DCjznhaG4ZdX0_kZ2OYJIdyr6H9VU3TjuxWzdwm0NZ-_R3TE5IwnFEEkhkVl4m8hRp0Nh-n4fnULa-uYtQEGeUTgZgfcfIclUjrxlXcaJJLpan1pqgr7LOgSR546/s1600/IMG_8957.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUMYrfPsS_DCjznhaG4ZdX0_kZ2OYJIdyr6H9VU3TjuxWzdwm0NZ-_R3TE5IwnFEEkhkVl4m8hRp0Nh-n4fnULa-uYtQEGeUTgZgfcfIclUjrxlXcaJJLpan1pqgr7LOgSR546/s320/IMG_8957.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>The 5k'ers were long gone by the time I got to this sign. It made me smile.</i></div>
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Shortly thereafter I was routed directly to the riverside. I still could not see the finish line, but I knew it was coming. Lots of people were going the opposite direction with their awesome medals. I could.not.wait.to.be.done. Have I mentioned how hot it was?</div>
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Finally, it was my turn to cross the finish line. The announcer called my name and city. It has been a while since I have heard that! Boy was I relieved. I was handed my medal and an <i>ice cold</i> bottle of water. PTL!</div>
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I called Chasen, and he and Isaac were soon in my sight. It was so good to see them! He took several pictures of me. This is, of course, my favorite.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEippTbxxGPqzkD4J061B8AP9y-N-y74Nwu9vcel1KpXMRRf1vbRNenlDttdCRwL9cvIpfBQGOh3u3BsOq2GPv9eNXLa-GfZBvV8jr5rm0zE7Oq84bXykUoEQuYRpNVpuP0CbaG-/s1600/IMG_8958.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEippTbxxGPqzkD4J061B8AP9y-N-y74Nwu9vcel1KpXMRRf1vbRNenlDttdCRwL9cvIpfBQGOh3u3BsOq2GPv9eNXLa-GfZBvV8jr5rm0zE7Oq84bXykUoEQuYRpNVpuP0CbaG-/s320/IMG_8958.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>That's my fella and I! I want to make him proud.</i></div>
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Wouldn't you know we had to walk UPHILL to the car? Phew. Yes, after 13.1 hotttttt miles. Oh well, I'm tough. Ha! Chasen had me some necessary post-race goodies waiting in the car: a big ole pickle, a bottle of water, and a Coke Zero. That man knows what I like! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjih6xfUw9mjfspLyrhhL9IgKjiDjC3lLm15u1eiCGFxFiFtTD5Hjxht-OAgOkU_0RTH2LlIFIPkvVmEH3Xu5wjnaUBhgmrh-1RzO-n6WcDfnmvPwt0dNQCVzFWlQO6wej2cUV5/s1600/IMG_8959.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjih6xfUw9mjfspLyrhhL9IgKjiDjC3lLm15u1eiCGFxFiFtTD5Hjxht-OAgOkU_0RTH2LlIFIPkvVmEH3Xu5wjnaUBhgmrh-1RzO-n6WcDfnmvPwt0dNQCVzFWlQO6wej2cUV5/s320/IMG_8959.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i> I got in the car like Fred Sanford. I ate my pickle like a champ, though.</i></div>
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We picked up some lunch on the way home. I told him that once I got home, I wanted to shower, nap, and watch TV. Basically, I did not want to leave my air-conditioned bedroom all day. I pretty much stuck to it! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioBy0-wsEnyK8zzeQNuMXxA3ET_3tIbM-_tsXw_4GCmkbl524HeUl_ixXfvhiVnkDc-e4fVEm8uvnNGZTri_9d1xVGJEfyU_p3sCRPqc2bjjjqWHeLsjSyiHBkuoE92SweY8XQ/s1600/IMG_8961.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioBy0-wsEnyK8zzeQNuMXxA3ET_3tIbM-_tsXw_4GCmkbl524HeUl_ixXfvhiVnkDc-e4fVEm8uvnNGZTri_9d1xVGJEfyU_p3sCRPqc2bjjjqWHeLsjSyiHBkuoE92SweY8XQ/s320/IMG_8961.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>How 'bout that cool orange shirt?!?!</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzVyLW2t0EYOgwybmvUZun0styIiR0cmx0NL7fMngXNZI-8uWE35VTss1AApauY53rPreagA5ojmwqUzAldgISFKubqNgaNeSkSDkSjUprIZFO1uRmWSflKib9TsDOvjEX9jAs/s1600/IMG_8962.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzVyLW2t0EYOgwybmvUZun0styIiR0cmx0NL7fMngXNZI-8uWE35VTss1AApauY53rPreagA5ojmwqUzAldgISFKubqNgaNeSkSDkSjUprIZFO1uRmWSflKib9TsDOvjEX9jAs/s320/IMG_8962.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i> This medal was sooooo sorth it!</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimVSXeWYDqogQ07cuOs6mCVsMYHQi6hpXKjX35VRiAy6olR_6LRyQ2EEnYbLGDV8TF_e0i7NEzTA5Z7SPpLADTLnWlm4qGacsyHIisSBU9XrcgLMqUg7COmOq8RTr9VUuulQSH/s1600/IMG_8963.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="620" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimVSXeWYDqogQ07cuOs6mCVsMYHQi6hpXKjX35VRiAy6olR_6LRyQ2EEnYbLGDV8TF_e0i7NEzTA5Z7SPpLADTLnWlm4qGacsyHIisSBU9XrcgLMqUg7COmOq8RTr9VUuulQSH/s320/IMG_8963.jpg" width="310" /></a><br /><i>What a beauty! </i></div>
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Am I going to do this race again next year? N-O. It was far too hot. I have another hot one coming up next week, and I am really adjusting my goal and strategy. The heat is NO JOKE, and safety is the #1 thing. It was a great course with lots of historic places along the way with excellent swag, and I am glad I made it through. But, my racing season ends in one week, and I am NOT sad about it. This is why most people train for fall and winter races, especially us Southerners. </div>
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Stay tuned for the next one! </div>
Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516566884075321281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32790015.post-18503258080348304642019-04-28T22:19:00.003-05:002019-06-04T17:23:10.564-05:00Derby Festival MarathonOn Saturday I completed my 14th marathon, the <a href="https://derbyfestivalmarathon.com/" target="_blank">Derby Festival Marathon</a>, in Louisville, Kentucky. I chose this race as part of my 50 states quest for a few reasons:<br />
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1. It's driveable.<br />
2. I would get to run through historic Churchill Downs.<br />
3. The medal is pretty cool.<br />
4. The timing was perfect. It wouldn't be too hot just yet in late April.<br />
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After getting both Isaac and our exchange student, Isa, squared away for the weekend, Chasen and I left on Friday to head to Kentucky. It took much longer than anticipated, due to a wreck on I-40. The race expo closed at 9 PM on Friday night, and I didn't get there until 8:40 PM. Eek!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkijkowt0sZRjx72Gsu8MxpiSSBZENv9h28jOw6wkjL1HtfDt9saYtrv_J97MNTqMwZEohYbQCys5chnoLlccxbC5-YuSSpJ08Kfo5yXo4BoOEOJK2xTzerWkyMb_gVdk5TxOW/s1600/IMG_8475.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkijkowt0sZRjx72Gsu8MxpiSSBZENv9h28jOw6wkjL1HtfDt9saYtrv_J97MNTqMwZEohYbQCys5chnoLlccxbC5-YuSSpJ08Kfo5yXo4BoOEOJK2xTzerWkyMb_gVdk5TxOW/s1600/IMG_8475.JPG" /></a></div>
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<i>I was in and out in a flash. Believe me, Kentucky is BIG on bourbon!</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD_OJSu5zdX9k8KIWpxuylxAGxrKG4apjdzV_iOnIRq7oCieFjJRqBetWk8uihWIin515fYVMSN0DBGthoVf2Dq3lEofL5JZ3PtaMju3alccoQrjZiPSrm0W1l5-HyJsXEHjtn/s1600/IMG_8478.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD_OJSu5zdX9k8KIWpxuylxAGxrKG4apjdzV_iOnIRq7oCieFjJRqBetWk8uihWIin515fYVMSN0DBGthoVf2Dq3lEofL5JZ3PtaMju3alccoQrjZiPSrm0W1l5-HyJsXEHjtn/s1600/IMG_8478.JPG" /></a></div>
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<i>The race swag was pretty cool. The Louisville Slugger has the race logo on it.</i></div>
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When my alarm went off at 5:45 AM on Saturday morning, I did NOT want to get up. It wasn't that I was avoiding the inevitable; after all, this was my comeback! I have completely transformed into my "old self" to be able to do this race! It was because I was in the eastern time zone, and my body knew it was really 4:45 AM. Ouch!<br />
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By the time I showered, got ready, had breakfast, and "got empty," I literally had to hoof it to the start line. Hoof it -- see what I did there? LOL #racehorsereference</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWOp_aTtLQu6P_0t1kg1sBYa2hKBYm2yCndTcm03V6IEhF8BA4k6q0OZu_aW_wQWFXzAcJN4WP3bcipnVDE-obWzYsKP2dA0pAhGkMTwPldoWwIAIx6RY7gdjyecJw2gyGhx94/s1600/IMG_8481.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWOp_aTtLQu6P_0t1kg1sBYa2hKBYm2yCndTcm03V6IEhF8BA4k6q0OZu_aW_wQWFXzAcJN4WP3bcipnVDE-obWzYsKP2dA0pAhGkMTwPldoWwIAIx6RY7gdjyecJw2gyGhx94/s1600/IMG_8481.JPG" /></a></div>
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<i>I made it! I was so excited for this race.</i></div>
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As I stood in the corral, I did my pre-race kicks that my chiropractor instructed me to do. A lady next to me commented that she was impressed that I could kick so high. Who knew?!?! Upon learning that I was doing the full, she "warned" me about the hills at Iroquois Park. I took it with a grain of salt. Hills are my middle name! #famouslastwords </div>
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We began in downtown. There was so much excitement! I didn't even put on my podcasts until many miles later. I was so happy to be there. It felt like I had somehow "erased" the past five years of sedentarism and allowing life to get in the way of my health and fitness. I was BACK, baby! </div>
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I was actually doing quite well! I was enjoying every second. One highlight was a young man's sign that read, "I trained for months to hold this sign!" Another highlight was taking a cup of water from a priest.<br />
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I heard someone call my name at around mile 6. It was sweet Chasen on one of those electric scooters you can rent in metropolitan areas! He actually scooted next to me until I went into <a href="https://www.churchilldowns.com/" target="_blank">Churchill Downs</a>. It was the sweetest surprise EVER!<br />
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<i>I did not know he was there! I'm easy to spot in my signature orange. Notice the lady BEHIND me.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqOi8cA8QINSWbS6CmtFizkOFexquCd_K50_wcQOUtyQp2dWqbbMpF6jt8Hb8aGlm8hY1_OULR5fGUZkkawXtmlLGatoWWwiaZhVgtcdJHeYnEYfVkHgH7n48NzD9WA4dUyjec/s1600/IMG_8492.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqOi8cA8QINSWbS6CmtFizkOFexquCd_K50_wcQOUtyQp2dWqbbMpF6jt8Hb8aGlm8hY1_OULR5fGUZkkawXtmlLGatoWWwiaZhVgtcdJHeYnEYfVkHgH7n48NzD9WA4dUyjec/s1600/IMG_8492.JPG" /></a></div>
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<i>Here I am just before I entered the racetrack. I was excited!</i></div>
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I read reviews of this race before signing up, of course. Many people said that running through Churchill Downs was underwhelming. Sadly, I have to agree. It's not like I ran through the barn or anything! I did, however, get to see a horse and jockey doing a practice run off in the distance at one point. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIMWHa6oSxSrDKav28_zGON237M_oTleooGrB9CGITUptKnFiFyJc68LA1mhOwPQGGCLWnxP_t5zNklqultophBJxB7pthpn7fyC6YbGJljRxUq3w_sT6Hzfz-pY4PQS92VhQc/s1600/IMG_8482.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIMWHa6oSxSrDKav28_zGON237M_oTleooGrB9CGITUptKnFiFyJc68LA1mhOwPQGGCLWnxP_t5zNklqultophBJxB7pthpn7fyC6YbGJljRxUq3w_sT6Hzfz-pY4PQS92VhQc/s1600/IMG_8482.JPG" /></a></div>
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<i>The clouds were pretty, and it IS a landmark. So, there's that.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPM4cbpiL51ipHM35EEIU4-rmukpzpR1kL96tpZEPAbGmXCS2FCELU-CF3Lfc9s5rO1Ztsg4NnmRRpcLnZJjxORcaDWIW3sMLFyHAvCGatQn7RPvGwcUY2NuI_BmJTiw8X3YDE/s1600/IMG_8483.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPM4cbpiL51ipHM35EEIU4-rmukpzpR1kL96tpZEPAbGmXCS2FCELU-CF3Lfc9s5rO1Ztsg4NnmRRpcLnZJjxORcaDWIW3sMLFyHAvCGatQn7RPvGwcUY2NuI_BmJTiw8X3YDE/s1600/IMG_8483.JPG" /></a></div>
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<i>Believe me, friends, I was doing my best!</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOfgs2Lbj0Ghpzo88JfAGHy_cx3fWIpiAmYhB9conON148Rj9F6SwpfMBIt1YZI3CC6xPdmE2CxTDiJJa8ffUL5OqTt6Mw7AOqGPXxPvTNTR01fRdVarxqSfg7SR92yMzSjPYT/s1600/IMG_8484.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOfgs2Lbj0Ghpzo88JfAGHy_cx3fWIpiAmYhB9conON148Rj9F6SwpfMBIt1YZI3CC6xPdmE2CxTDiJJa8ffUL5OqTt6Mw7AOqGPXxPvTNTR01fRdVarxqSfg7SR92yMzSjPYT/s1600/IMG_8484.JPG" /></a></div>
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<i>Mint julep, anyone?</i></div>
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As I exited the racetrack, the full marathoners went right and the halfers went left. Chasen, who was waiting on his scooter, said hardly anyone went right. This was just before mile 9. He stayed with me until roughly mile 10. At this point, the heat was beginning to rise, and I felt that I needed to "get in the zone," put on a podcast, and get down to business. So, I not-so-kindly asked him to depart. He said he would meet me at mile 20. I requested that he bring M&M's.</div>
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<i>I was looking a little bit spent, I admit.</i></div>
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By this time the course was an out-and-back, meaning everyone who was literally eight miles ahead of me was headed back towards the finish. You can see them above, going the opposite direction. I did a calculation and determined that mile 13 would be the turning point, so I looked forward to that. It's always great to be the one telling those slower that you, "You've got this! Keep it up!"</div>
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Around mile 11.5, after the last water stop I would experience (stay tuned!), I entered hilly, beautiful Iroquois Park. I had no idea how long I would be in there, but I had been warned about the hills. I was not worried about them. Boy, was I wrong. </div>
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Iroquois Park was a labor of love. As much as I love running in nature and being in the shade, this place was ALL UPHILL. Let me rephrase that. It was all UPHELL. It felt like I was crawling. Remember how I was looking forward to cheering on those behind me once I hit the turnaround point and got out of the park on the straightaway? Sadly, I realized I was THE VERY LAST ONE IN THE MARATHON. That's not exactly a confidence booster, especially after losing 60+ pounds and training for 6+ months for this comeback marathon.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-epsMYXHgvlpOPj19Nsv1h36Yky9a30lQlAoMu6S9aQoe-1SzeLfmN6RBmTGCg58FoQ__0vt-MFTj4c1PxFPksjV5669btlv01vs4NPTLP3MzOPYo4XUnoEsjDoOM06-0q_ne/s1600/IMG_8485.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-epsMYXHgvlpOPj19Nsv1h36Yky9a30lQlAoMu6S9aQoe-1SzeLfmN6RBmTGCg58FoQ__0vt-MFTj4c1PxFPksjV5669btlv01vs4NPTLP3MzOPYo4XUnoEsjDoOM06-0q_ne/s1600/IMG_8485.JPG" /></a></div>
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<i>See, I was DEAD LAST. Granted, I was lapping everyone on the couch!</i></div>
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Let's get real, people. This made me really sad. Like really, really sad. I felt like such a loser. However, do you know what I am not? A quitter. Susan Stout does NOT quit unless it's a matter of health or safety. All that was damaged here was a little thing called my ego. It was badly bruised. </div>
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Eventually the police officer asked me to kindly move to the side of the road because it was time to open the course back up to traffic. I expected it, so that alone did not bother me. I was just grateful that there was still someone ahead of me that I could still see. </div>
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<i>That's Kelcie, my new BFF. She's the one that was previously behind me.</i></div>
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The gal in front of me grew to be an amazing ally. Her name is Kelcie. I figured out that God surely put her in the race quite literally to keep me safe. Even in the park there were times when there would be a fork in the road. With 100% of the course mile markers, water stops, etc. removed at this point, I would have had no idea where to go! Can you imagine? Without Kelcie I may have ended up calling Uber!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFR7ztoTs4USWQOlkPQhtMLiNaUQA-MrHeMGp2EzAGl1YqfLLDUdRYMn9pfnEHX6Xk-XUoo88FBjq7FVlgvAEa9G7SFqHvTHhptLs8NB0_2bJgp46aadq_IsPawFNUhyphenhyphenn6kJdf/s1600/IMG_8487.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFR7ztoTs4USWQOlkPQhtMLiNaUQA-MrHeMGp2EzAGl1YqfLLDUdRYMn9pfnEHX6Xk-XUoo88FBjq7FVlgvAEa9G7SFqHvTHhptLs8NB0_2bJgp46aadq_IsPawFNUhyphenhyphenn6kJdf/s1600/IMG_8487.JPG" /></a></div>
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<i>Smart Kelcie printed out the turn-by-turn directions for just in case.</i></div>
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Once we FINALLY made it out of the park at mile 15, I thought to myself, "Ughhhhh. How on earth am I going to make it 11+ more miles?" I was SPENT and demoralized. These are the times you find out what you are made of. Like I said, I am NOT a quitter. I certainly thought about it, though! I didn't want to let myself down. I didn't want to disappoint Isaac or Isa, or even Chasen. I didn't want Louisville to get the better of me. But, can you imagine having to go 11 more miles when you literally hurt everywhere from the neck down? My left shoulder was so tight it felt like I had been in an accident. My lower back, sides, and glutes felt ROCK HARD. They were so contracted! My right knee even hurt. </div>
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I must say that my hip did not hurt. This was the hip that sidelined me for all of February. Thank God for small favors! What hurt most, though, was my pride. I was a sad sack. Here I was in an unknown city with zero course markings, no water stops, and a husband I wouldn't see for nine more miles. I could cry just typing that!</div>
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Do you know what kept me going? KELCIE. That girl has an iron will! She kept trudging along, and I kept following her. She had the foresight to contact the race director before the race and confirm that there would be a medal waiting for her regardless of when she finished. At one point she called her husband and told him to make sure they kept TWO out. Bless her!</div>
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We walked... and walked... and walked. We walked through the nice university area and then through some not-so-nice areas. I kept thinking, "Chasen would DIE if I was here alone." Like I said before, without Kelcie I would have been ALONE and lost in an unfamiliar city with no new water and some seedy areas. </div>
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Sure enough at mile 20, up in the distance like an angel, was Chasen. He had to walk quite a way to get there (no scooter). He met me with M&M's and a Three Musketeers bar (my favorite). That man literally walked us all the way to the finish line. That's 6.2 miles, friends, in street clothes. 10 kilometers! I'll tell ya... I was glad to have him, both because I slowed to a point that I nearly lost sight of Kelcie AND because the course went through some desolate parts with an active homeless population. Again, I know Chasen would NOT have wanted me to be alone. He is the best!</div>
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He could have chided me or spurred me on a bit, but he did not. He simply walked beside me, kind of willing me to keep going. How will I ever repay him??? Those last 6.2 miles were torture. He's my HERO.</div>
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Finally, finally, finally, we rounded the last corner. I could see Kelcie, her crew, and two race people, one of whom was a man holding a medal! I actually RAN to them. I was sooooo glad to be done. Somehow I ended up with a marathon relay medal, so they will mail me my official marathon medal. I snapped a photo of Kelcie's medal for this blog.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhm7w8WHZK7I-fbg7NCFCUizedQwHjx8piWaOCZBn5BMZqjQlWO3QkxEW8BTdLKIepCZcMBpN4Wu-NB2j-2zY4cPQcEYAirzGW_A43My5eqWeqKodJNgF2dh3Cg7VW-5lEv3Dn/s1600/IMG_8488.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhm7w8WHZK7I-fbg7NCFCUizedQwHjx8piWaOCZBn5BMZqjQlWO3QkxEW8BTdLKIepCZcMBpN4Wu-NB2j-2zY4cPQcEYAirzGW_A43My5eqWeqKodJNgF2dh3Cg7VW-5lEv3Dn/s1600/IMG_8488.JPG" /></a></div>
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<i>Ain't she a beauty? The Louisville Slugger museum/factory is displayed.</i></div>
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Wouldn't you know that our hotel was about six blocks from there? Phew. I was DEAD by the time I got back to our room. Literally all I wanted to do was lie down on the floor. I told Chasen to take my picture because this was real life! Everything hurt and was on the verge of cramping.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSw5WeT9JrYyVJiThaXd1KIQU1fBaP2lVvaQ7GHINMmGq4YSRKO60RT_TKvPDzyMu4fClr1cOj_24RjldX7jJz-PbwuEfNz49lQ4i7x28qS6acXUZALun4wVnPzx5otKZ14HFO/s1600/7D0E6CD2-6207-44E5-9AD1-632A6B5B1DD9.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSw5WeT9JrYyVJiThaXd1KIQU1fBaP2lVvaQ7GHINMmGq4YSRKO60RT_TKvPDzyMu4fClr1cOj_24RjldX7jJz-PbwuEfNz49lQ4i7x28qS6acXUZALun4wVnPzx5otKZ14HFO/s320/7D0E6CD2-6207-44E5-9AD1-632A6B5B1DD9.JPG" width="180" /></a></div>
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<i>I wanted to sit down all day! This was even better.</i></div>
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The amazing thing is that after a shower I was about 90%. Ninety. Percent. How on earth did that happen? I felt like I was on the verge of death just ten minutes prior. Also, for the first time ever, I experienced zero chafing and sore toenails. WHAT?!?! Today, the day after, I have ZERO soreness. I am 100%! WHAT?!?! </div>
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Now what? You didn't think one bad day would deter me, did ya? Heck no. Better days are out there. It is all SO WORTH IT! Running makes me the best version of myself. I have fall race goals and ideas for the years ahead. You can't keep a good woman down! I'll see you out on the roads, friends. </div>
Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516566884075321281noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32790015.post-21930637519667260102019-03-10T20:55:00.001-05:002019-03-10T20:55:27.805-05:00Germantown Half Marathon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Today I completed a local race that has been on my bucket list for close to ten year. Yes, TEN YEARS. It's the <a href="https://germantownhalfmarathon.racesonline.com/" target="_blank">Germantown Half Marathon</a>. Let me explain.</div>
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This race has been on my bucket list because it is local, is known to have a great medal, and it winds through lovely Germantown, Tennessee. It's just under a half hour from my home, and the town is older (i.e. the homes have character). Germantown is a most lovely place!</div>
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It has taken me so long to check it off my bucket list because for many years I was always training for something else. In hindsight, I have no idea why I didn't find a way to use it as a training run for a marathon, like I did today. Oh well... live and learn!</div>
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The elephant in the room is the fact that on January 24th, my right hip started giving me fits. I was previously holding steadfast with a <a href="https://shop.phidippides.com/products/newcustomizedtrainingplan?_ga=2.28637500.123201559.1552266561-45557653.1542760297" target="_blank">Galloway Customized Training Plan</a> for my "comeback" marathon, the <a href="https://derbyfestivalmarathon.com/" target="_blank">Derby Festival Marathon</a>. Everything was going swimmingly since I have lost roughly 70 pounds. Running is a whole lot easier when you're lighter on your feet! I felt unstoppable. Then... BAM. No dice.</div>
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After a lot of frustration and borderline depression, I had to seek the help of a different medical professional. I am not one for change, and I am fiercely loyal. However, if what you've always done is not working, change is in order. Just one week ago I literally could only make it 1.5 miles without a shooting pain that would end the run. One. Week. Ago. I have only been to see my new doc twice now and, as you can see, I conservatively ran 13.1 miles today. Boom.</div>
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The race tale begins yesterday when Isaac and I drove to the <a href="https://www.germantownathleticclub.org/" target="_blank">Germantown Athletic Club</a> to pick up my race goodies. While I am sure I read it on the race website months ago, I was shocked to realize that I would get a sweatshirt for signing up. A sweatshirt! I have never received one before. Mighty nice!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6HqWb8nGkOz4vfjq9sr0vRA914SkwLOV95_HhurxRlRcE2GiDAb1WnqmocnGT_6qega2y0antbP_cH96bykqeDRqwUAynUQVpO-v1HXY7fI3LprFuEj82PtAXnTev9ERTe0MW/s1600/IMG_7879.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6HqWb8nGkOz4vfjq9sr0vRA914SkwLOV95_HhurxRlRcE2GiDAb1WnqmocnGT_6qega2y0antbP_cH96bykqeDRqwUAynUQVpO-v1HXY7fI3LprFuEj82PtAXnTev9ERTe0MW/s320/IMG_7879.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>I love the simplicity of it. I love the green.</i></div>
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Last night was a doozy. It has been over three years since I have competed in a race of this length. While my training for my comeback full had gotten me up to 17 miles before Hipmageddon 2019 happened, there is a big difference between starting a training run from your house vs. having to get up early and drive somewhere. There was no room for error. PLUS, today marks Daylight Saving Time. I'd have to get up super early, and I had a fear that my phone/alarm wouldn't update, etc. My sweet friend Maddy in Florida offered to text me to make sure I was up. That's a friend! My hubby also set his alarm. </div>
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I laid out everything, as you can imagine. This morning was a breeze. I ate, showered, packed up, and drove to Germantown in the dark. It only took 21 minutes since there was very little traffic. Score! When I got to the athletic club, I used the restroom, spoke to a couple of friends, and got ready.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-q_DrShwMxZzl8kDUPCpPq9lleqnoAtwODB-0LWTdHWGWbLeAWP_hJMJTBAQlrtryqXKJyGQT1tvQmOmQ0L_x0lXkUJ9qCh78viVrEgbGYnhE0-i6oUUBnRziDnFLcw19o6p7/s1600/IMG_7896.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-q_DrShwMxZzl8kDUPCpPq9lleqnoAtwODB-0LWTdHWGWbLeAWP_hJMJTBAQlrtryqXKJyGQT1tvQmOmQ0L_x0lXkUJ9qCh78viVrEgbGYnhE0-i6oUUBnRziDnFLcw19o6p7/s320/IMG_7896.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Here I am before the race.</i> </div>
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Because of my hip and my lack of a crystal ball, I aimed to run this one extremely conservatively. On Tuesday I was able to cover five miles, and I could definitely feel it. My strategy today was, frankly, to see how far I could get WITHOUT pushing too hard.</div>
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Let's talk about the emotional element of this race. I'm not a touchy feely, let's-talk-about-our-feelings kind of person, but this deserves to be said. Since 2014 I had been gaining weight and had morphed into a completely sedentary, miserable person. There was a huge chunk of time when I thought I would never be at the start of a distance race again. Never. So, I tried to soak in every second of the pre-race excitement this morning. I was BACK, baby!!!</div>
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The course went through some really lovely areas. I ran past schools, gorgeous homes, churches, a country club, a golf course, and through a park. There was a lot of shade, too, and not too many hills. I picked a humdinger!</div>
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I told Chasen days ago to wait and see if I made it to mile 8 or 9 before even thinking of coming up there. I just did not know how the day would unfold. Once I got started today, I thought to myself, "You're going to make this happen. Just go slow." I had no idea Chasen (and others!) would be tracking me online. He texted me after I crossed the 5k mat and even had Isaac send me a "Go Mommy go!" voice text. Talk about melting my butter!</div>
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Could I could feel my hip? Oh yes I could! I learned that it was something I was just going to have to live with today, and if I kept it steady, it didn't get any worse. Mental toughness was key today!</div>
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I texted Chasen and told him to not leave our house until I hit mile 10. That would put him there by mile 12 or so, and there would be absolutely no hurry or too much waiting. Sure enough, my plan worked!</div>
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This was truly a happy event for me. I enjoyed every second out there. I was proud to simply <i>be</i> there. It meant so much to me! I was <i>almost </i>sad to see it end. I hardly ever say that!</div>
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Chasen let me know that he and Isaac would be at the last corner before the finish line, and Isa would be at the finish line. How lucky am I?!?!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig5jEKBbRAAsnOYtnjYJedxU_qF96cCEeCuIJ6ijpQ9XzhDN-NGWQtj4D1Lw2XVSqBi1FtdoZwShMuLu2RKMelWzD2OdEEFKIkPJGUVqM0cCCgaiO5pdv_A-Osq1YxbmswkBlv/s1600/IMG_7903.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig5jEKBbRAAsnOYtnjYJedxU_qF96cCEeCuIJ6ijpQ9XzhDN-NGWQtj4D1Lw2XVSqBi1FtdoZwShMuLu2RKMelWzD2OdEEFKIkPJGUVqM0cCCgaiO5pdv_A-Osq1YxbmswkBlv/s320/IMG_7903.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>These lookers cheered me on! </i> </div>
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Isaac ran with me for a little ways. I thought he might want to cross the finish line with me like he used to do when he was little, but I guess he is too big for that now. Oh well. Isa was smack dab in the middle of the finish line taking pictures. Bless her soul! I crossed the finish mat, got my gorgeous medal, and then the most incredible thing happened. She told me that I was so strong and tough, and she didn't think she could ever do this. I told her that she could absolutely do this! If I can, she certainly can. As far as I can tell, she has two good hips, the fit body of a 16-year-old, and nothing stopping her but her MIND. That's the truth.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2UaJgP-X1m2QLFOYox507maYOtGRBuMaLpWn_37otfhRwO7DBaMZHW_dKT7twh-O0tojgYZsfl-ulxEFymunEs6sMmAQsarC5Y6PZEfR_hv6ME4e4CWYZnEAAAa0Lp5SHhbgV/s1600/7824a99a-da6f-4705-ac3a-a1f81b0ace9e.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2UaJgP-X1m2QLFOYox507maYOtGRBuMaLpWn_37otfhRwO7DBaMZHW_dKT7twh-O0tojgYZsfl-ulxEFymunEs6sMmAQsarC5Y6PZEfR_hv6ME4e4CWYZnEAAAa0Lp5SHhbgV/s320/7824a99a-da6f-4705-ac3a-a1f81b0ace9e.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>She snapped this photo of me. I love it.</i></div>
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After the race I put on my flip flops, got my purse, and we all headed to the <a href="https://www.commissarybbq.com/" target="_blank">Germantown Commissary</a> for some barbecue and pie. No dieting today! We had a great time together as a family. These are the days I'll never forget. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMwVxHaN523M58csTTwcKPgqbFsUAlPube5Avhql7J7Qj0vzLyYTfQmjR4z9DMafFS-LPnLNAv3K-BYwYkiGQkxz55HAN__REkYgNjSuaAMNJl657RIzxoA2PnAqR9KwRFWFkf/s1600/IMG_7899.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMwVxHaN523M58csTTwcKPgqbFsUAlPube5Avhql7J7Qj0vzLyYTfQmjR4z9DMafFS-LPnLNAv3K-BYwYkiGQkxz55HAN__REkYgNjSuaAMNJl657RIzxoA2PnAqR9KwRFWFkf/s320/IMG_7899.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Here is my awesome medal and race bib.</i></div>
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This race made me super excited for what is to come. I am going to stay on my healthy plan, keep on rehabbing the hip, and move ahead with marathon training. You can't ask for much more than that!</div>
Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516566884075321281noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32790015.post-13136981379354676332018-10-13T13:03:00.000-05:002018-10-13T13:03:11.476-05:00Water Tower 10k<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Oh, where to begin? Some of you may know that I started blogging in 2006. The other 99.9% of you reading this now likely came here via social media, and that's quite alright. </div>
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Once upon a time I blogged every.single.run. Yep, I composed several posts per week. Then I stopped because, 1) I had a baby, and 2) social media took over. I have the fondest memories of blogging, though. That's how I have made DEAR running friends all over the globe, literally.</div>
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Long story short, I have not run consistently since *gasp* early 2014. I'll spare you the details of that. Today's race, though, has more or less been 18 months in the making. I'll get right to it!</div>
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Today I checked off a local bucket list race: <a href="https://hernandowatertower10k.racesonline.com/" target="_blank">Hernando Water Tower 10k</a>! Why was it on my list? Because it is nearby AND it has a very cool medal. There ya have it.</div>
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Once I got my act together and committed to training for it (after recovering from an injury that postponed marathon #14), I printed out a <a href="http://www.jeffgalloway.com/training/5k-10k-training/" target="_blank">Galloway training plan</a>. I adore the Galloway method of run-walk-run. I am currently using the 10:30 method, which means I run for 10 seconds and walk for 30 seconds. </div>
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One Friday I did something COMPLETELY out of character for me: I asked on Facebook if anyone would want to run-walk-run 3 miles with me the next day. (I always run alone. Always.) Lo and behold, my old friend Alison said she would. I was shocked, as I had no idea she was in to running. As it turned out, she really wasn't. The rest, as they say, is history!</div>
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I showed up to Alison's that day, and we got the job done. I told her I'd be running 4 miles the next Saturday, and she agreed to join me. One thing led to another, and we got up to 6 miles together before family vacations and other travels stopped us. </div>
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Recently I asked her if she would like to join me for the 10k. She actually said YES! So, we made it happen. We both arrived in Hernando at about 7 AM today, and we went to get our packets. Being a rather small race, it was super easy and fast to get our goodies.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgcXp8k4lcShogwUG7PSdOU_nnxbH4VdbrFlsCGZkIF63SdxLSJ1qGG1uS4iSNeseUg1z3E5LMKFyp3Gu-7snFrfluiYweWKWGTPLHkwdKVOlnJn7PgMIXpko8XiVtqwNtHGcZ/s1600/IMG_6149.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgcXp8k4lcShogwUG7PSdOU_nnxbH4VdbrFlsCGZkIF63SdxLSJ1qGG1uS4iSNeseUg1z3E5LMKFyp3Gu-7snFrfluiYweWKWGTPLHkwdKVOlnJn7PgMIXpko8XiVtqwNtHGcZ/s320/IMG_6149.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>See, easy peasy! I was pre-registered, and Alison registered on-site.</i></div>
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It was chilly out this morning. I'd say it was in the low 50F range. I wish I had brought a jacket for all of my walking around. Alison was definitely smarter than me in that respect!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYPTExVMk9AFmze862AdGIS5z56p7PcifC5A7E56wmR_cv5Gp0b64HsPcGa8FoVsnXDe-PuLhAqNkH4EldJpkD0UHT9q9PAUVAKTKrKSyclnaiECbZxGZcpMWTYuRibIhZn77c/s1600/IMG_6151.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYPTExVMk9AFmze862AdGIS5z56p7PcifC5A7E56wmR_cv5Gp0b64HsPcGa8FoVsnXDe-PuLhAqNkH4EldJpkD0UHT9q9PAUVAKTKrKSyclnaiECbZxGZcpMWTYuRibIhZn77c/s320/IMG_6151.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Here we are before the race began. See her coat?</i></div>
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I saw a few people I knew, which is always nice. We made our way to the back of the pack. All I wanted to accomplish today was crossing the finish line. The mere fact that I had gotten my act together to make it to the start line was a victory unto itself. Oh, if you only knew!</div>
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When the race began, I almost missed pressing start on my Garmin because the start line was literally a small line and the word "start" written on the asphalt on one side of the street with orange spray paint. Gotta love a small race! FYI the finish line was the typical large ordeal.</div>
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We began passing people immediately because of our very efficient run-walk-run method. I told her that would happen because lots of these folks would go out super fast and then regret it. Ha! I then began to tell poor Alison about my history with running. People, we are talking about 15 years of running tales including 13 marathons and one or two failed attempts. The next thing I knew, we were at mile 4.3! If you know me well, then you know I do NOT tell any short stories because I do not like to leave out a single detail. </div>
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It was a lovely course. We started near the town square. Hernando is the county seat of DeSoto County, Mississippi. Both Alison and I live roughly 25 minutes from there. Once we left the square, we went through lots of neighborhoods that were new to me. With the exception of going to certain restaurants, I rarely get down to Hernando. This was quite a treat. It was definitely hilly, but we really didn't mind. The weather was overcast and less than 60F, even at the end. I felt like I didn't even sweat! </div>
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We agreed that we would run through the finish line, even if we were technically amid a walking portion of my Galloway ratio. And so we did! We finished strong. Might I add, we finished with an average mile split faster than I anticipated! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjunZoQow98xCutky3GRV37aQvM_wgGlFixAn-vCo691h97f4kMfkydzOYRArOeHh3okfruLR3pBh-Ta2g7Y_VFkCpA1_Grlhl3s8J-cp7j982HbqoCS6GmWG_FiULYNdPumz2-/s1600/IMG_6153.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjunZoQow98xCutky3GRV37aQvM_wgGlFixAn-vCo691h97f4kMfkydzOYRArOeHh3okfruLR3pBh-Ta2g7Y_VFkCpA1_Grlhl3s8J-cp7j982HbqoCS6GmWG_FiULYNdPumz2-/s320/IMG_6153.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Here we are just past the finish line.</i></div>
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The surprising thing was that it never occurred to me to eat during the 6.2 mile race. It finally dawned on me as we were walking to the restroom in the nice, clean, and warm country building. I mean, who wants to use a port-o-potty if you don't have to?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirtno3eKV1nJ12QFK0Q-sWRzAJ0hUMoMe5-VzxaUCpgZtagZCpeqGbrwiqy_RmhsEkG94ksHn1NnFUK4SIpon4BR83wN3asGI35tp9TA2t5VnrvnM7T0IYYP4VWU3Yzdi93n4T/s1600/IMG_6154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirtno3eKV1nJ12QFK0Q-sWRzAJ0hUMoMe5-VzxaUCpgZtagZCpeqGbrwiqy_RmhsEkG94ksHn1NnFUK4SIpon4BR83wN3asGI35tp9TA2t5VnrvnM7T0IYYP4VWU3Yzdi93n4T/s320/IMG_6154.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Here we are a little bit cleaned up after our restroom stop.</i></div>
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We walked back to our cars and parted ways, but not before discussing our running future together. I am so, so, so stinkin' proud of Alison! How amazing is it that her very first race was a 10k?!?!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNOgMN_d1td8W4LHVfvAvLiG0NxbqrxAl2Ay0tI0vMEklHzTlUJ-_ASXj1j1JClmwnx_Qoicgzo0IkmxNbSWZREDDCJ1Hs4pb-nTEVFcwlXHTur8JhYTlk-0XkFzvrXs5PRyeS/s1600/IMG_6157.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNOgMN_d1td8W4LHVfvAvLiG0NxbqrxAl2Ay0tI0vMEklHzTlUJ-_ASXj1j1JClmwnx_Qoicgzo0IkmxNbSWZREDDCJ1Hs4pb-nTEVFcwlXHTur8JhYTlk-0XkFzvrXs5PRyeS/s320/IMG_6157.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Here is my awesome race shirt. I love it!</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNlvNWir9kvXgAp4hWM9w2s-UXeUn1fdkpud6P7L2088hoSJGmci4Et4dr4NyucdOn_JDr1OmfRWoDD8C8cx8mdQruOo3SH_XEQ9FDVB8hiE-PFOU8H4MVj0tgsSD9xLaS7nmL/s1600/IMG_6158.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNlvNWir9kvXgAp4hWM9w2s-UXeUn1fdkpud6P7L2088hoSJGmci4Et4dr4NyucdOn_JDr1OmfRWoDD8C8cx8mdQruOo3SH_XEQ9FDVB8hiE-PFOU8H4MVj0tgsSD9xLaS7nmL/s320/IMG_6158.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Here I am, all cleaned up, sporting the race shirt and medal.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEmsRRTgPNUiddHwjcWLox_dLsKlT1gdS-hbQ2EKJWhWczm4e7AaCnouyI6woXIsxZdVis_V46xJUaQsGFifvWm1FR3_fElQytWnTG5ZPeqsh4C-dsq83702NixtKS2tJMKhmA/s1600/IMG_6160.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEmsRRTgPNUiddHwjcWLox_dLsKlT1gdS-hbQ2EKJWhWczm4e7AaCnouyI6woXIsxZdVis_V46xJUaQsGFifvWm1FR3_fElQytWnTG5ZPeqsh4C-dsq83702NixtKS2tJMKhmA/s320/IMG_6160.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>We got a great, well stocked goody bag.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXcmGdcG02_omWfUacuU53LuJlIXoYt8obKJbaypXGoSmwLB4CDRxP0Fho3dcyYhjR7R0Hy9f89YWGIpgNYZylgtGhv6y5UuQ1Jy4sp13MjgnmLFmkri00wHvQW5YsIlAy975A/s1600/IMG_6161.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXcmGdcG02_omWfUacuU53LuJlIXoYt8obKJbaypXGoSmwLB4CDRxP0Fho3dcyYhjR7R0Hy9f89YWGIpgNYZylgtGhv6y5UuQ1Jy4sp13MjgnmLFmkri00wHvQW5YsIlAy975A/s320/IMG_6161.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Check. Out. That. Medal!</i></div>
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I am definitely on cloud nine and ready to move forward. Running was such a HUGE part of my life for so long, and I couldn't be happier to feel like I'm "back," in a way. Here's to a great end of 2018 and an epic 2019! </div>
Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516566884075321281noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32790015.post-30668487386765010362017-08-27T00:14:00.001-05:002017-08-27T00:14:34.503-05:00Is This Thing On?I'm baaaaack! Well, maybe. I firmly believe that social media has killed the majority of all running blogs. I used to blog after every.single.run. I enjoyed it tremendously. I enjoyed the camaraderie of it all. So, we'll see if anyone even notices this.<br />
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I have been back on the roads for just over 18 weeks now. I have a LONG way to go, but I am enjoying the journey!Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516566884075321281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32790015.post-66986092986610965282014-08-03T22:19:00.001-05:002014-08-03T22:20:38.783-05:00How I Do ItPeople ask me <i>all the time</i> how I handle Chasen being gone for so long on his trips to China. At this point, I'm an old pro! He started going 2-4 times per year when Isaac was 20 months old, so I have plenty of experience. Here's what I do.<br />
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Before he leaves, a few things <i>must</i> be addressed.<br />
<ol>
<li>The exterior lights on our house must all be working. Safety first!</li>
<li>The yard must be in tip top shape. It must look well cared for and occupied!</li>
<li>Any minor household repairs must be completed (slow draining showers or finicky toilets, etc.).</li>
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Once he is gone, the work on the inside of the house begins.</div>
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<li>I thoroughly clean the house, and I try hard to keep it that way. It makes life easier. </li>
<li>I do all of his laundry, so that his closet is clean as a whistle. I'm a recovering neat freak, you know.</li>
</ol>
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Our lifestyle changes a bit when we are alone, mostly for ease and safety.</div>
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<ol>
<li>I cook a big meal every three days or so. Leftovers are key!</li>
<li>We spend a lot of time outdoors, weather permitting, and then we bump up bath time to before dinner (of leftovers!) to make for an easier evening.</li>
<li>I try to not overload myself with extracurricular activities. The simple life is best.</li>
<li>We almost never go out after dark. If my car is going to break down somewhere, I'd rather it be during the light of day.</li>
<li>To that end, we almost never leave town while Chasen is gone.</li>
<li>I take advantage of my big, empty bed (in which I sleep like an "X," according to Chasen) and go to bed as early as possible.</li>
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That's really it. It's easy peasy. Even so, concerned people always come up to me (especially at church) and ask how we are "holding up." It makes me laugh. We've definitely been around the block. We've only had trouble twice, and each time someone from our church has quickly come to our rescue, as well as my neighbor (who is better than 911). There ya have it! </div>
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Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516566884075321281noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32790015.post-92060080090265991792014-03-10T23:03:00.000-05:002014-03-10T23:03:02.220-05:00Land Between the Lakes 23k<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Back in December, my casual (read: 99% on Facebook) friendship with a woman named Kathlene turned into an actual, real friendship when she began asking me about CrossFit. We worked out together a few times, and we even went running together. That's right -- yours truly kinda sorta has a running partner after all these years. Sometimes we'd run together and then do CrossFit afterward. I know, I know... we might want to get our heads examined. I've heard that before!</div>
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She knew I was training for the <a href="http://www.irunformylife.blogspot.com/2014/02/new-orleans-marathon.html" target="_blank">New Orleans Marathon</a>, and she asked me what my plans were after that. Since I had recently found another "driveable" race to possibly check off my 50-states list, I told her: the <a href="http://www.wkrc.org/phpnuke/modules.php?name=Content&pa=showpage&pid=2" target="_blank">Land Between the Lakes Trail Run</a> (marathon) in Grand Rivers, Kentucky. It wasn't a done deal, though, because a) I needed to see how NOLA would go, and, b) Chasen would likely be out of the country, which would present a childcare problem. Lo and behold, Kathlene's parents have a nice RV setup really, really close to the run, and she could accompany me and keep Isaac. Hmmm... the wheels started turning. </div>
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After NOLA I hemmed and hawed, and I even contacted the race director, since the deadline for a guaranteed medal had passed. He gave me his word that, if I signed up by the weekend from the link he personally sent me (!!!), I'd get a medal. By golly, I pulled the trigger. I wasn't sure how it would go, as I have <a href="http://www.irunformylife.blogspot.com/2007/12/my-past-on-trails.html" target="_blank">very little positive experience on trails</a> (yes, you need to read that post from 2007!) but I wasn't going to let that stop me from this red carpet trip. </div>
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Isaac and I picked up Kathlene and her son, Jack, and we headed to Kentucky. We saw lots and lots of snow (for these parts) along the way. It was bewildering to me, as ours was long gone. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgesrYK_4vgiIfMo1vvR7Oxw7mP77_fGNQXt_ILppKlaxeyTtPfvyCcbe0ICs4S3-q5Mw44yQ73WGmto3B1cboMMCpiPkawjs6sPVafR-D4nxLGuAYRBL8EbYyOjgcNP4tnttKh/s1600/1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgesrYK_4vgiIfMo1vvR7Oxw7mP77_fGNQXt_ILppKlaxeyTtPfvyCcbe0ICs4S3-q5Mw44yQ73WGmto3B1cboMMCpiPkawjs6sPVafR-D4nxLGuAYRBL8EbYyOjgcNP4tnttKh/s1600/1.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Here we are outside the small, friendly race expo.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwlhG6jp_cYuknpq7MH65ilU62V6kCprvxfXUQH-fX_i8fQi9MCpCKOoj3R6HxnnC746ZQDdOKDY_DxOexYf_KpRGso1r0vPQ0Fvuov66hIgnGaHtZcEZYO2-wklyQ8-MLkNoM/s1600/2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwlhG6jp_cYuknpq7MH65ilU62V6kCprvxfXUQH-fX_i8fQi9MCpCKOoj3R6HxnnC746ZQDdOKDY_DxOexYf_KpRGso1r0vPQ0Fvuov66hIgnGaHtZcEZYO2-wklyQ8-MLkNoM/s1600/2.JPG" height="320" width="290" /></a></div>
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<i>I got a nice zipper bag.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlcgC5FHMBpscMV3xZEFdgStvuB3R6GhXXmr9gq3WIbgtS6goGBRlJyRIqqNjWEbdhHtHMHwJtO6HSdrTIVtR17YOL0VJD-BS7jiaaifsKA_Ek0ihj4zvPC_otevFpRayw1AjS/s1600/3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlcgC5FHMBpscMV3xZEFdgStvuB3R6GhXXmr9gq3WIbgtS6goGBRlJyRIqqNjWEbdhHtHMHwJtO6HSdrTIVtR17YOL0VJD-BS7jiaaifsKA_Ek0ihj4zvPC_otevFpRayw1AjS/s1600/3.JPG" height="232" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>I've never had a hot pink race shirt before. I love it!</i></div>
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After the expo (Kathlene's first!) we walked down to the lighthouse/marina area. LBL is simply gorgeous, snow or not. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPHT0KdOpQY24-NJ_mu3QaU_h-ycceu-Fi2ebrxnD6ZVQuZSQZBIjxkCSkRzbmCqoBxmCvJzaWZXECtqDVbY62T_JK4FxvbryAj_u3HXtlsj2Xvv9G20rBmglNr2BjGqyMAlT4/s1600/4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPHT0KdOpQY24-NJ_mu3QaU_h-ycceu-Fi2ebrxnD6ZVQuZSQZBIjxkCSkRzbmCqoBxmCvJzaWZXECtqDVbY62T_JK4FxvbryAj_u3HXtlsj2Xvv9G20rBmglNr2BjGqyMAlT4/s1600/4.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>You just can't beat that view.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyVReqATM5-OsBN06cvuzx4wTGb5SZ2YUj1UZu6_LbiCO0Qy99WPee-rAAbwFBXqNfnZ6V4jfsSzezi8dm_LczL0lzYzk4Z0PSXq6Dq-Kz4ctWjv7nJ9mOsaVCRlNd3CE9gB6f/s1600/5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyVReqATM5-OsBN06cvuzx4wTGb5SZ2YUj1UZu6_LbiCO0Qy99WPee-rAAbwFBXqNfnZ6V4jfsSzezi8dm_LczL0lzYzk4Z0PSXq6Dq-Kz4ctWjv7nJ9mOsaVCRlNd3CE9gB6f/s1600/5.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Both Isaac and Jack were given nice, green caps. Isaac tossed his in the water (and got in big trouble).</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpKtuDY_YUcODALI1IUN10OUxw9lvcMZKbM5VOlwM29bVs8DkruHDEvs5tgC8xVRIGDjyQ_cb8tuIhLQVqccP6mNQhA0vVy1xxIIFYvFLrOH6o1UayCFvVuzrvN1Tv_jQCKgWT/s1600/6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpKtuDY_YUcODALI1IUN10OUxw9lvcMZKbM5VOlwM29bVs8DkruHDEvs5tgC8xVRIGDjyQ_cb8tuIhLQVqccP6mNQhA0vVy1xxIIFYvFLrOH6o1UayCFvVuzrvN1Tv_jQCKgWT/s1600/6.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Here's my sweet pal who made all of this possible.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5SnSTPifLM7N4V8vaBErGP_9hSsW9giz7M_SNbEOdbMAPgQUPMFpJreNkAlCPuZiJ38jY_daMviI6Y0LKaQcLbuftPIUK0CxGhxjhOt6wBUYXbfUx9ThH_8WH3fnWZgAZ2PjM/s1600/7.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5SnSTPifLM7N4V8vaBErGP_9hSsW9giz7M_SNbEOdbMAPgQUPMFpJreNkAlCPuZiJ38jY_daMviI6Y0LKaQcLbuftPIUK0CxGhxjhOt6wBUYXbfUx9ThH_8WH3fnWZgAZ2PjM/s1600/7.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>And here is the lighthouse of "<a href="http://www.lighthouselanding.com/" target="_blank">Lighthouse Landing</a>."</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYR1bDo-cNxKde6C7iA_ZqU9tr-0P71RIwnVJFEumOtEQt01vzF6NoTYjZiQlnm4ojM-4k66ZUDp6aiIwWUyqsKU6Dp7th3IP0pqZZBbWuVvfkK-Om0F8NbwPOa_nydVk5BYd8/s1600/8.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYR1bDo-cNxKde6C7iA_ZqU9tr-0P71RIwnVJFEumOtEQt01vzF6NoTYjZiQlnm4ojM-4k66ZUDp6aiIwWUyqsKU6Dp7th3IP0pqZZBbWuVvfkK-Om0F8NbwPOa_nydVk5BYd8/s1600/8.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>LBL is a boater's paradise.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
After being blown away by the scenery, we headed back to Kathlene's parents' RV. I had never actually stayed in an RV, so I was quite excited. Isaac was even more excited and actually referred to it as "his dream come true."</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXww0Y9Xxs3wmfvhBBtAWrZM4d9X8e0SajpPFpdn9qB7N7pvWhw9nG9Ml-JsRjv5fHFlFxW4E5gKg2eX-Lu65Ck5dVI_1R7LVZiIiDaKV4aicZIgYtmmxo46fhgiDbSpYJaW43/s1600/9.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXww0Y9Xxs3wmfvhBBtAWrZM4d9X8e0SajpPFpdn9qB7N7pvWhw9nG9Ml-JsRjv5fHFlFxW4E5gKg2eX-Lu65Ck5dVI_1R7LVZiIiDaKV4aicZIgYtmmxo46fhgiDbSpYJaW43/s1600/9.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>For two nights we got to call this place home.</i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
It was snowy, slushy, and muddy. Naively, I thought the trails would be OK. The communication from the race director indicated that they were in decent shape. Nonetheless, my boy needed something other than running shoes to romp around in. So we went shopping. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLvbPokXKcgQj3AVHK3oK4leyn4U-czK3-IHlVYJY90ipaHl32nb6dYMsXHqYSbr5fL8S8KrRI_PVhVplL422yUQlZ7F11GEkunsCvImTdjTDCMwABS7n3-2IyDZMQHe6YA1Er/s1600/10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLvbPokXKcgQj3AVHK3oK4leyn4U-czK3-IHlVYJY90ipaHl32nb6dYMsXHqYSbr5fL8S8KrRI_PVhVplL422yUQlZ7F11GEkunsCvImTdjTDCMwABS7n3-2IyDZMQHe6YA1Er/s1600/10.JPG" height="238" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>My Mississippi boy insisted on camo rubber boots. Whatever floats his boat... and keeps his feet dry.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSSh5CX5cRTtIYRLQbsUGMNIA_au3BhRoi6Y5M6vRz6sdvdrSFaugOLhMUFA5eRvlLoiD1vYbahVdOXOOz1kRzIlKbJLQnvKA5JuXyzA6Cqbzg3p7-Zizb9F0sZI3KvKxsKbom/s1600/11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSSh5CX5cRTtIYRLQbsUGMNIA_au3BhRoi6Y5M6vRz6sdvdrSFaugOLhMUFA5eRvlLoiD1vYbahVdOXOOz1kRzIlKbJLQnvKA5JuXyzA6Cqbzg3p7-Zizb9F0sZI3KvKxsKbom/s1600/11.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I had my more-often-than-not pre-race dinner at Cracker Barrel.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The next morning, Kathlene drove me to the race start (at Lighthouse Landing) at 5:40 AM. The race was to begin at 6:30 AM. Why so early? Because there was also a 23k race (14.291 miles), a 60k, and a 50 miler. Phew!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOTG0WW8Wia8aR3LNNuOuAyK9JfrnobBVQnkm1T_vfMyhuQyvv61ErMAuFpZwzX0NBM7qiQbM3-7I9l6xC89a0gJ4krWrbWTkE_Bjc0qvBx95U-jg0-pNPlSZHBpbSSWJPZPli/s1600/12.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOTG0WW8Wia8aR3LNNuOuAyK9JfrnobBVQnkm1T_vfMyhuQyvv61ErMAuFpZwzX0NBM7qiQbM3-7I9l6xC89a0gJ4krWrbWTkE_Bjc0qvBx95U-jg0-pNPlSZHBpbSSWJPZPli/s1600/12.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>There go the runners, ready to face the trails!</i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Even though we stopped at a McDonald's on the way to the start, because the camper did not yet have running water hooked up for the season, would you believe that I had a Code Brown as soon as the race began? NOT GOOD. Believe me when I tell you that I ran as quickly as I possibly could to the first port-o-potty, which was at the end of the asphalt. So long, asphalt. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I decided a few days ahead of time that I was going to run Garmin-free. After all, this was going to be a new adventure for me. And, per my post from 2007, I needed to pay attention to nothing else but the trail ahead of me. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsVo1OxMR2hba-YLQdZqQpLFcR7V77LdiwYKx22N4LP4bgr1bfNG_Du6xrUuue-rQLejbGiT9pE5zIvzIsLq9s1Lli1J2meTdw4B48CDEthCjXGcqnhZdOhdV2ANl4cX59qdcJ/s1600/13.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsVo1OxMR2hba-YLQdZqQpLFcR7V77LdiwYKx22N4LP4bgr1bfNG_Du6xrUuue-rQLejbGiT9pE5zIvzIsLq9s1Lli1J2meTdw4B48CDEthCjXGcqnhZdOhdV2ANl4cX59qdcJ/s1600/13.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Look.At.That.Snow.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxquN2FHHctqyoQDXCMtxxu7CEQMMJeLF-ebgcajRhKn7SfqwEz1FzrQ9N36R8Bh0lfxrtmHBWQxSkXG61TSwp4Qf1OgQgmJcCCVnUM9o8uYqZQMDbNU1DmARycXiSQQ-vwezP/s1600/14.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxquN2FHHctqyoQDXCMtxxu7CEQMMJeLF-ebgcajRhKn7SfqwEz1FzrQ9N36R8Bh0lfxrtmHBWQxSkXG61TSwp4Qf1OgQgmJcCCVnUM9o8uYqZQMDbNU1DmARycXiSQQ-vwezP/s1600/14.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Here I am just before the asphalt ended. Asphalt, I'll miss you.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The port-o-potty and the first water stop, as I said, were at the end of the asphalt. This is what I faced next: hard packed snow with patches of ice, slippery slopes (there is no such thing as a flat trail at LBL), and very, very slippery mud. Sigh.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBrdmA31JkEyEokfONRhE85XnFceW91O0HytTfgiT3ghnYYmNZJTckJ1A38z7FXqeSavqYQAa9yrkbHbkuOGweo8A_337s9jn4c6bY3tlEQB8E5sQSHfAnMPVRy7EidSIvK3Kq/s1600/16.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBrdmA31JkEyEokfONRhE85XnFceW91O0HytTfgiT3ghnYYmNZJTckJ1A38z7FXqeSavqYQAa9yrkbHbkuOGweo8A_337s9jn4c6bY3tlEQB8E5sQSHfAnMPVRy7EidSIvK3Kq/s1600/16.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Miss Priss was jumping streams left and right! This one is tiny, by the way.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj0fv904TngXPq1U0ml9dsuT0luTGNLRrbBaR3bK68AJ7MS9qeFCNewJZo7j6bDUMb2FSr-Jm61PXY2ZXhaj8XZAHI9N89rxwvBhg-L6szd664IIon_aGukt1Jgc07YOMjeOsY/s1600/17.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj0fv904TngXPq1U0ml9dsuT0luTGNLRrbBaR3bK68AJ7MS9qeFCNewJZo7j6bDUMb2FSr-Jm61PXY2ZXhaj8XZAHI9N89rxwvBhg-L6szd664IIon_aGukt1Jgc07YOMjeOsY/s1600/17.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>It was very pretty, I'll give it that.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> </i><br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJRbyhy_TS8zxNjI5feOPuVc006dP27GyAHXnFY56gs18z2w7FNMZz2jfQ8-N435S5lUJ2gvBZ6YXPvYz-K4heujG_AaRwBtRA7XpnV9ZeGPcxSZTulZ13lhcqb-gLO4yxvfgd/s1600/18.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJRbyhy_TS8zxNjI5feOPuVc006dP27GyAHXnFY56gs18z2w7FNMZz2jfQ8-N435S5lUJ2gvBZ6YXPvYz-K4heujG_AaRwBtRA7XpnV9ZeGPcxSZTulZ13lhcqb-gLO4yxvfgd/s1600/18.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The entire course was 1, 2, 3, or 4 loops. The marathon was 2. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvRB6WtlSbnL9WjhkWz4bzCG9f-3xxCmnEVd3Rk3Wt1YDxXhYSAqAGv5iVykKqvfgJnlyBYd1sjk83DTmK40h9SlwzA4cjjhSy1IP1Kez4cPIMAzaE6Sa8FYMB-Jz19o4bjRSP/s1600/19.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvRB6WtlSbnL9WjhkWz4bzCG9f-3xxCmnEVd3Rk3Wt1YDxXhYSAqAGv5iVykKqvfgJnlyBYd1sjk83DTmK40h9SlwzA4cjjhSy1IP1Kez4cPIMAzaE6Sa8FYMB-Jz19o4bjRSP/s1600/19.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Untouched.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4fSCboXX1s_2Y75o7aI9pBgLOR6KokHuJHQICeYxuecjS9xMnr4ErL6CvaJn131EFSOavOR1arL4hKOYlFFNkt4tu7hIE8bwqIrA-x-w-DLXrGsZIAJho4dadlbTK5L9yiyku/s1600/20.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4fSCboXX1s_2Y75o7aI9pBgLOR6KokHuJHQICeYxuecjS9xMnr4ErL6CvaJn131EFSOavOR1arL4hKOYlFFNkt4tu7hIE8bwqIrA-x-w-DLXrGsZIAJho4dadlbTK5L9yiyku/s1600/20.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Navigation. No miles markers, but signs here and there.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG-VIzFevR3zLhK-itpHonoBe-u1MvRMAwqAISDEWGqL8YcO7kPy8u1TyAxaxuqPPg4hz3XVt4KmTP5wa80MMR6QZpFV8jAgs4TP1Zh6Yu3LeOPJ0lzfGmtvZZQ5ZRrq__PKK7/s1600/21.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG-VIzFevR3zLhK-itpHonoBe-u1MvRMAwqAISDEWGqL8YcO7kPy8u1TyAxaxuqPPg4hz3XVt4KmTP5wa80MMR6QZpFV8jAgs4TP1Zh6Yu3LeOPJ0lzfGmtvZZQ5ZRrq__PKK7/s1600/21.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>This is an example of "easy mud."</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I only took photos in the beginning, when I found the whole trail thing to be novel and interesting. I was initially among some other slow-ish trail people, but it quickly turned into me being, as I have since said, "all alone in the woods like Grizzly Adams." It would have been OK, but I was having an extremely hard time staying upright. If I wasn't sliding down into a stream, unintentionally, I was turning both ankles, slipping and sliding, and getting sopping wet feet in the process. That wouldn't have been the end of the world, mind you. However, with no Garmin and no mile markers, every time I'd approach a water stop as the trail approached some asphalt (thank God!), I'd be shocked by how little progress I was making. I knew I'd be slower on trails, but man oh man... this was going to take all day. And that'd be fine.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Or so I thought.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Once I got to the other side of the lake, the trail actually got worse. At this point the super fast people had looped me, and they were zooming past me like this was no big deal. Mind you, I was having trouble just walking. Seriously. I was only at mile 7.something when the volunteer asked me what mile I wanted to be at when I looked shocked to find out my location. I said "26.2." The whole table chuckled. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Back into the #$%& woods I went. I had been talking with Kathlene from time to time, and she'd ask "Where are you?" (meaning, which mile?) I'd answer "I don't know... somewhere in the @&*$ woods." That's the truth. It seemed to be getting steeper and steeper, muddier, slicker... you get the picture. Never one to quit (never!) I thought "I can't do this. I've got to get out of here." But there was literally no way out. At the very least I had to complete the 23k loop. I called the race director (from the $#@* woods) and asked if I would be permitted to drop back to the 23k distance. He said that lots of people were doing so. That was comforting, but I still had miles to go. Miles. In the $&%* woods. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Just after that I fell in the mud and jarred my back something fierce. Ouch. It really hurt. I thought "Girl, you might have to crawl out of these $%&# woods." </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Finally, by the grace of God, I hit the asphalt. PRAISE HIM!!! There was a man who would alter my bib to indicate the 23k distance. Happily, sir... mark that baby in red! </div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3hdaIjGFYHA_oM_kJebTll6uPVKcxSIDJs0R1OVTHBZsHglXtzubgKYXOhxwqYIFNVLDjZZ-m0kTTIvP8ObLM8oNZZ4rwXnOcOWSGQI8BQa0wdsTkFXTokXBy8uqxt5SEFTvd/s1600/22.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3hdaIjGFYHA_oM_kJebTll6uPVKcxSIDJs0R1OVTHBZsHglXtzubgKYXOhxwqYIFNVLDjZZ-m0kTTIvP8ObLM8oNZZ4rwXnOcOWSGQI8BQa0wdsTkFXTokXBy8uqxt5SEFTvd/s1600/22.JPG" height="237" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Two loops happily became one. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUoekNsKaqXdNTrApbmo_buudttzYC3VUMiqBGxp14yTODJYh5QCnNlxVRj7u9UXXQ-Fuaa6PevwqD80Zrb3coHroygClkAfjgDsXSPk6CzAJIqtGJ_6mui3d-RLjUtnlHwiXX/s1600/23.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUoekNsKaqXdNTrApbmo_buudttzYC3VUMiqBGxp14yTODJYh5QCnNlxVRj7u9UXXQ-Fuaa6PevwqD80Zrb3coHroygClkAfjgDsXSPk6CzAJIqtGJ_6mui3d-RLjUtnlHwiXX/s1600/23.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Kathlene and the boys were waiting on me. Awww!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I still had 1.7 miles to go (on asphalt!) and Kathlene said she was going to go with me. I thought that meant she was going to follow behind with the boys. Nope! She walked and ran that final 1.7 with me. Her hubby and mom (known affectionately as Mimi) drove the boys.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNVc_N1Z9mWBpl4TvCiNpMSPSSxE0H0_AoWo-GeMvPniNulez1Z3hnWfsWJht98HzHJsNQMg3A-JiTE8l9O5nt-9XBrnq22Bbg8Tb-dq7ENnRp482hyNa2uWZ_TCdGyG6mt2Mc/s1600/24.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNVc_N1Z9mWBpl4TvCiNpMSPSSxE0H0_AoWo-GeMvPniNulez1Z3hnWfsWJht98HzHJsNQMg3A-JiTE8l9O5nt-9XBrnq22Bbg8Tb-dq7ENnRp482hyNa2uWZ_TCdGyG6mt2Mc/s1600/24.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>There's me and my camo boot wearing baby crossing the finish line.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ1YWbLTbtiGtDn0wG0b399Ni-TN8at3c6zcfb0HZAotO_gk4y3VYLEIFW5gIdz7Bgu0PQ72APJSAanE8Q7w8rpcFkOlzOvKsBwLMgotEWaGK9ZaCIMPOK9pOr1xVngDJCH-Gk/s1600/25.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ1YWbLTbtiGtDn0wG0b399Ni-TN8at3c6zcfb0HZAotO_gk4y3VYLEIFW5gIdz7Bgu0PQ72APJSAanE8Q7w8rpcFkOlzOvKsBwLMgotEWaGK9ZaCIMPOK9pOr1xVngDJCH-Gk/s1600/25.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>I was given a key chain for the 23k distance. Yes, a key chain.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8suBMHfR3rOTCptug2JJ3XeMSCVDMRM34VMJQFT4G2SkneUhr1Sb5Nr5Jb4Cu1_JxA4iXwY5M9LGE9wKR3dDpXQsqNE5CYFtuqH20qsdEKhTV49wjKXTzxk0Owd_xTCLm7cFH/s1600/26.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8suBMHfR3rOTCptug2JJ3XeMSCVDMRM34VMJQFT4G2SkneUhr1Sb5Nr5Jb4Cu1_JxA4iXwY5M9LGE9wKR3dDpXQsqNE5CYFtuqH20qsdEKhTV49wjKXTzxk0Owd_xTCLm7cFH/s1600/26.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Dried mud. This actually doesn't look that bad.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitcriIUPGp2zvZRs5ywQKVmwF5dGJg-WuHCjkW26weYB6aqw0I7MLxQSm94WNsyUq2NT024XgsfRAMjz2kw027rHpY8iXkDM6vswoIQJdXsAzZuqGVMBOqOW4Lv83wgTLdirAb/s1600/27.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitcriIUPGp2zvZRs5ywQKVmwF5dGJg-WuHCjkW26weYB6aqw0I7MLxQSm94WNsyUq2NT024XgsfRAMjz2kw027rHpY8iXkDM6vswoIQJdXsAzZuqGVMBOqOW4Lv83wgTLdirAb/s1600/27.JPG" height="260" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Nor do these shoes. The iPhone has a way of prettying things. </i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlPvBYderqZsWVH30tZqAsdP59x8CC6-vhZHfq2Mr2-_ebaps4LbWsuOXRkvkqgDTwpTxZFXSccq7IfElmdgn0kyaCsHiOGM91xGRS2RbCcdxfiC8NDNq1uR-HlqJIkBT4tszP/s1600/28.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlPvBYderqZsWVH30tZqAsdP59x8CC6-vhZHfq2Mr2-_ebaps4LbWsuOXRkvkqgDTwpTxZFXSccq7IfElmdgn0kyaCsHiOGM91xGRS2RbCcdxfiC8NDNq1uR-HlqJIkBT4tszP/s1600/28.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>It's a pretty key chain, at least. And hard earned, for darn sure. </i></div>
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We all went to get some lunch, including me and all of my mud. Then I finally got to take a much needed shower at the campground's bath house.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWQTOU_dakhKry5tsA3TQIyxRIdmdKx4C0xx_HhoDurteYjWMNRJ09vEhfE1DuE1avjIOGjzHHu3g-3Z82p59BnSZCXTbUyoHtA-Os-Pq5Uc_0b2Uf9KkC-A4C5CtzOEIT2Ff_/s1600/29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWQTOU_dakhKry5tsA3TQIyxRIdmdKx4C0xx_HhoDurteYjWMNRJ09vEhfE1DuE1avjIOGjzHHu3g-3Z82p59BnSZCXTbUyoHtA-Os-Pq5Uc_0b2Uf9KkC-A4C5CtzOEIT2Ff_/s1600/29.JPG" height="192" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>It says "MAW" on the wall. The men's side said "PAW." Cute!</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie7yTEUk4dHzpHWKnBMkWaYqrO4RFsQEPbXaXFStK6qKZGIsQiGRFctpWIzOOBaLooZ0lZb9N29a_7a2Z4xhaNlNyU0lCCFAIJlBrfrf3m1usu2Rb-UNSrWF0OmvtKrsYNFTlv/s1600/30.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie7yTEUk4dHzpHWKnBMkWaYqrO4RFsQEPbXaXFStK6qKZGIsQiGRFctpWIzOOBaLooZ0lZb9N29a_7a2Z4xhaNlNyU0lCCFAIJlBrfrf3m1usu2Rb-UNSrWF0OmvtKrsYNFTlv/s1600/30.JPG" height="280" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Here are my dirty feet and swollen ankles. </i></div>
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Here's my recap. If I had known just how treacherous that trail would be, I would have never signed up for this race. If I had know about the severity of the snow and ice, I would have never signed up for this race. If a course elevation map had been offered, I would have never signed up for this race. Alas, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Are trails for me? N-O. Now I know. I thought my Missouri and Idaho races had prepared me. Nope. They were just rural... not "real" trails. Again, nothing ventured, nothing gained. While this is technically a DNF, in this case I believe it stands for Did Nothing Fatal. It took me 5:00 to make it 23k. Yes, FIVE HOURS. That's a 21 minute pace. I would have been out there over 10 hours for the marathon, most likely, and who knows what all kinds of injuries I would have sustained. </div>
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Want to know what good came from this? I had a fantastic time camping with some awesome people. Isaac had the time of his life getting filthy dirty with Jack. I've found a gorgeous area for a family vacation. I now have a very easy to beat 23k PR. See, all is not lost. And, it was a pretty inexpensive weekend. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ5Lb-6WNDPpqCj9fxAswEqOGw-KJN2birEbDABLseqnoKFpqlCBKTN0f5-W-t1-ZkjRsDeZpoeAcKPFb_lKvq8FjFp2EbazuO6hRJR_5VQgj3BLrKRrLl8OTmbZPQ2HdmiAo1/s1600/31.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ5Lb-6WNDPpqCj9fxAswEqOGw-KJN2birEbDABLseqnoKFpqlCBKTN0f5-W-t1-ZkjRsDeZpoeAcKPFb_lKvq8FjFp2EbazuO6hRJR_5VQgj3BLrKRrLl8OTmbZPQ2HdmiAo1/s1600/31.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>His shirt, a present from Kathlene, will be applicable another day.</i></div>
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Marathon #14 looms ahead, and it may even be in Kentucky. Who knows? I can't wait. I'm gonna kick some asphalt!</div>
Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516566884075321281noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32790015.post-59838477630767407272014-03-05T21:36:00.001-06:002014-03-06T10:17:41.657-06:00Double Unders<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Ever since I began doing <a href="http://crossfit.com/" target="_blank">CrossFit</a>, I have struggled with my capabilities. Believe me, I have a LONG way to go. L-O-N-G. But, occasionally, I do something that really surprises me. Back in December I discovered that I could do a handstand. Yep, me, the 39-year-old who has never taken a gymnastics class. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOJbXERdeln2UXZl88e0NIpLVPGPdu44dA8-44LL_ZLg05HM6t1eFe8_k6z157HN2x_AkM_wUQaZuflEs4eKjnH28D_AjbVw3DHjtc7h6ZWx2J1pfRky1xzCMzhMdO2jjNviXF/s1600/handstand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOJbXERdeln2UXZl88e0NIpLVPGPdu44dA8-44LL_ZLg05HM6t1eFe8_k6z157HN2x_AkM_wUQaZuflEs4eKjnH28D_AjbVw3DHjtc7h6ZWx2J1pfRky1xzCMzhMdO2jjNviXF/s1600/handstand.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Thank the Lord my coach snapped this pic. Otherwise, I'd never believe it. Ha. </i></div>
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That's the thing about CrossFit. It's all about doing things you never thought possible in a very supportive community/environment. Trust me - everyone there was cheering me on. </div>
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CrossFit is also about finding your weaknesses and working on them. As I said, I have LOTS. In particular I couldn't squat worth squat! My coach has worked tirelessly with me on that. I'm happy to report that I have improved quite a bit. </div>
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Contrary to popular belief, it's not all weight lifting. In fact, it's only a third of it. It's about combining Olympic lifting elements, gymnastic movements, and metabolic conditioning. So there's a lot to focus on! I'm not the strongest person out there, but I am improving. I've worked myself up to a 165# dead lift, a 135# back squat, and a 100# front squat. And, I can now easily swing a 35# kettle bell. </div>
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Like the handstand above, for me in particular, some of the more fun things to work on require only your body weight and coordination/balance. Come to find out, I don't have a lot of coordination/balance, which is why the handstand was so shocking. </div>
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One thing I did NOT take to instantly is called a Double Under. It's a jump rope movement in which the rope should pass under your feet TWICE during one jump. Tough stuff! Mind you, prior to 2013 I hadn't jumped rope since probably 1987. Since it's such an excellent conditioning element, I asked for my own jump rope for Christmas. I was, by golly, going to work on my double unders. </div>
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I only got my first double under back in January. I was so excited about it that I screamed and did my "only at CrossFit happy dance." Last Saturday I actually surprised myself and did sixty of them, one.at.a.time. I was so proud. I really didn't think I could do it. </div>
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With Chasen traveling in Asia for the longest period of time ever, 14.5 days, I decided that I needed a special project to keep me busy. I call it "Susan's Double Under Camp." Each day I am working on my double unders. </div>
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On day 1 I tried desperately to get two consecutive DU's, but I couldn't. My goal, period, is two. I came close, but I just couldn't get the right rhythm. On day 2... I got two!!! I did it multiple times, in fact. I was on top of the world. Today, day 3, it took a while, but I got three. Three! I did it a few times, to my amazement, and then decided to try to video myself so I could figure out how to be more rhythmic and efficient. You'll never guess what happened next. </div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxC70FdipiC-H7l-qC2H_tBi38ew3a6EMlL69T9ARNo-FTkhKHXebK-vMRJrf1UKKW5zXxJcgdr7iM' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<i>I got SIX in a row!</i></div>
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I believe the video speaks for itself. I was shocked! It goes to show that practice and perseverance pay off. My technique has a way to go, but I am going to continue to try to improve, day by day. Mark my words. I'm fired up about these doubles!</div>
Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516566884075321281noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32790015.post-62475058537366677242014-03-03T19:39:00.001-06:002014-03-03T19:39:10.497-06:00Baked Cilantro Lime Herbed Chicken<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I have come up with another super easy, nutritious chicken recipe! Per the usual, it's an adaptation of someone else's recipe. My BFF sent me <a href="http://www.thecomfortofcooking.com/2013/04/herb-and-citrus-oven-roasted-chicken.html" target="_blank">this link</a>. She's always on the lookout for paleo-friendly recipes for me. Love her!</div>
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We had snow today in North Mississippi, and, trust me, that's rare. It's way below freezing, and I wanted a dinner that would both warm me up and stick to my ribs. This adaptation was a home run! Here's what I did:</div>
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<li>In a gallon size baggie, I sliced and squeezed a lime, as well as a few tablespoons of cilantro.</li>
<li>To that I added about a quarter cup of olive oil and a bit of garlic.</li>
<li>Then came the motherload of spices, all "just a dash" or so: oregano, basil, paprika, onion powder, red pepper flakes, salt, pepper, thyme, and rosemary. </li>
<li>I put four chicken breasts in there, shook it all up, and let it sit on the counter for an hour or so.</li>
<li>Into a 9x13 pan it all got plopped. Easy peasy!</li>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvqouLlPR9qDRoRn2hyphenhyphen_mHIyBzUEy6tJtD16AD7E45oi-p15UgW7m0JnCzmTvb6H3lqJx3y-p21rf_lEhXswQynVss9Y7TglPaIZM8uc9Bi9xo9_W20zBR1nHDBXCxcrHTwzSX/s1600/ch1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvqouLlPR9qDRoRn2hyphenhyphen_mHIyBzUEy6tJtD16AD7E45oi-p15UgW7m0JnCzmTvb6H3lqJx3y-p21rf_lEhXswQynVss9Y7TglPaIZM8uc9Bi9xo9_W20zBR1nHDBXCxcrHTwzSX/s1600/ch1.jpg" height="233" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>I baked this for AN HOUR at 400 degrees.</i> </div>
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At the halfway point I added one sliced sweet potato. Remember me wanting something that would stick to my ribs?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcCkkprmj8dLSJuR1NPZcGUgGYX6SYL_1RxkU4xx0MDegipVdiVkMqQm0d913fecV9jmuR4D7GsPUSYlVTpDFFaUS0hoXXziH8kOnwFVNtHRtk4LCgYkFj1IbqTAD7_RMRfZ2C/s1600/ch2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcCkkprmj8dLSJuR1NPZcGUgGYX6SYL_1RxkU4xx0MDegipVdiVkMqQm0d913fecV9jmuR4D7GsPUSYlVTpDFFaUS0hoXXziH8kOnwFVNtHRtk4LCgYkFj1IbqTAD7_RMRfZ2C/s1600/ch2.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Ah, the finished product!</i></div>
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People, this.was.good. Even 5-year-old Isaac loved it. I can't wait to have leftovers tomorrow. I'd venture to say that it'd still be delicious (and oh so moist!) if you left out a spice or two. Happy cooking!</div>
Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516566884075321281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32790015.post-22402420082343980102014-02-18T11:28:00.001-06:002014-02-18T11:28:07.940-06:00Isaac's Fifth Birthday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Well, folks, we've hit another milestone. My sweet, little Isaac is now a big five-year-old. I won't say the usual "Where has the time gone?" Truly, it seems like five years. Five glorious years, that is, of being a stay-at-home mom who has not missed one moment. Thank you, sweet hubby! </div>
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We settled on a minion theme this year, as in the minions from Despicable Me I & II. Isaac LOVES those movies, as do most small kids. Heck, I love them, too! And, minions are the bomb diggity. So, as a non-Pinterest person, I immediately started googling "minion party ideas." I knew what <i>had</i> to be done.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnzAyARyVXtsvtEE04l0cuu99cW-zhkdlDttOcA813uywL7rBNtyt-k-WgHXuKEBRd2xqrJmnn37bhoX4OrOB6GwVHcjLcMU6JjLrpunVagNLv6l5lirThye14LUkJ0RfVS_T5/s1600/1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnzAyARyVXtsvtEE04l0cuu99cW-zhkdlDttOcA813uywL7rBNtyt-k-WgHXuKEBRd2xqrJmnn37bhoX4OrOB6GwVHcjLcMU6JjLrpunVagNLv6l5lirThye14LUkJ0RfVS_T5/s1600/1.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Minion cupcakes! Yes, with <a href="http://hostesscakes.com/Products" target="_blank">Twinkies</a>. Easy peasy.</i></div>
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My big boy helped me make those cupcakes. His official duty was to press the eyeballs onto a dab of black frosting. He loves to be a helper.</div>
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He woke on his birthday (2/15) and I presented he and Chasen with matching Spider-Man ties. A <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Ians-Ties/1398358510415546" target="_blank">fellow stay-at-home mom in Georgia</a> makes them (affordably!) and takes custom requests. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRSwTcmKfBLlNvXvUfogZ9TFmUG-GUQNaT4cmHteWPNUpAXxoyY9UWHkTTNre_JUQ6L3BHGJWOCOCs9yFO6G5yx1EgOqMnMRYVZnMtvQlltlsIZbqr_Qk2pPz6Y2TndwbZpVvS/s1600/2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRSwTcmKfBLlNvXvUfogZ9TFmUG-GUQNaT4cmHteWPNUpAXxoyY9UWHkTTNre_JUQ6L3BHGJWOCOCs9yFO6G5yx1EgOqMnMRYVZnMtvQlltlsIZbqr_Qk2pPz6Y2TndwbZpVvS/s1600/2.JPG" height="320" width="235" /></a></div>
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<i>Look at those two. Am I lucky or what?</i></div>
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We headed to our church about two hours ahead of the party to set up. I had been working for over a week on all of the decor. Phew - a "home grown" party is a lot of work. </div>
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<i>There's my tippy-toed fella standing underneath a minion welcome sign.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifzfLGHN8aR13hMaD1afVKiZtpb5rYvImfPVwC8XmHrTb_LwjdoqEnS7xMtgKT3D3QzUMZo3MvSMA6w2eaMs_M0yFLPDZ2uKTBOLeltiR_lv_8zscWhQUumS54jskMZ0QWATnW/s1600/4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifzfLGHN8aR13hMaD1afVKiZtpb5rYvImfPVwC8XmHrTb_LwjdoqEnS7xMtgKT3D3QzUMZo3MvSMA6w2eaMs_M0yFLPDZ2uKTBOLeltiR_lv_8zscWhQUumS54jskMZ0QWATnW/s1600/4.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Food table. Yep, I painted that sign.</i></div>
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<i>I love the minion lemonade dispenser.</i></div>
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<i>The goody bags look like the evil minions. Notice the innocent looking popcorn.</i></div>
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<i>Two long tables were plenty to seat the minions... err, little boys.</i></div>
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<i>Chasen worked many nights painting all of these "minion bowling pins."</i></div>
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<i>Family selfie, aka the calm before the storm.</i></div>
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The next thing I knew, we had thirteen little boys running around! Literally, they did almost nothing but run around. It made me wonder why I put so much time into decorations and games. But, Isaac had a great time, and that's what counts. </div>
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<i>Pin the goggles on the minions got a lot of laughs.</i></div>
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<i>Those guys loved the sparkle candle!</i></div>
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<i>Here's most of the crew. This was before they ground popcorn into the carpet. Ugh!</i></div>
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These boys' lives were enriched on this day, as most of them experienced Twinkies for the first time! If you ask any of them, though, I bet they'd say their favorite parts were the minion cupcakes and running around playing tag. Ah, little boys, gotta love 'em. </div>
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<i>This is most of Isaac's loot.</i></div>
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We're so fortunate to have so many sweet pals for Isaac, most of whom attend our church. I know they're about to become a bit "scattered about" with everyone attending different kindergartens in the fall (yes, this fall!) but I hope some of these little guys will be his lifelong friends. And I look forward to many more birthday parties!</div>
Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516566884075321281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32790015.post-76354821610099933612014-02-18T10:45:00.004-06:002014-02-18T10:45:52.894-06:00Running ConversationsLast week I had the privilege of being featured on the <a href="http://www.runningconversations.org/" target="_blank">Running Conversations podcast</a>! If you haven't heard of it, let me break it down right now. Adam "Zen Runner" Tinkoff interviews runners of all abilities, ages, mindsets, and locations about anything and everything. In my case he wanted to hear about my recent <a href="http://www.irunformylife.blogspot.com/2014/02/new-orleans-marathon.html" target="_blank">New Orleans Marathon</a> experience. We chatted for about 40 minutes, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. You can listen to it <a href="http://www.runningconversations.org/015/" target="_blank">here</a>. Thanks!Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516566884075321281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32790015.post-66708764729880619892014-02-05T13:14:00.001-06:002014-02-05T13:14:49.166-06:00New Orleans Marathon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Marathon #13 is in the books! And, it was a doozy of a journey. One of the reasons I chose the <a href="http://runrocknroll.competitor.com/new-orleans" target="_blank">New Orleans Rock 'n' Roll Marathon</a> is because of the awesome medal. Duh! Another reason was because it was within driving distance (6 hours, anyway). The final reason was because I have a very, very sweet friend, Robin, who recently relocated to the general area. Her son and Isaac are friends, so we arranged for the two of us to stay with her for several days. Score! She'd be able to keep Isaac for me while I was running the marathon, and he'd have a fun time with his friend. That's a win-win.</div>
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Isaac and I left at 9 AM on Friday morning. The race wasn't until Sunday (<a href="http://www.nfl.com/superbowl/48" target="_blank">Super Bowl</a> Sunday, that is). I have to say that he did an amazing job during the long drive.</div>
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<i>A movie and some popcorn is all it takes, most of the time, to keep him happy.</i></div>
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We pulled into downtown New Orleans just past 4 PM. I was excited to take Isaac to the race expo with me. He's getting so big! I knew he'd enjoy seeing all that was there. </div>
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<i>There he is with his trusty pal, Stinky Dog.</i></div>
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<i>These <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mardi_Gras" target="_blank">Mardi Gras</a> beads greeted us. </i></div>
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We got my race bib, timing strip for my shoe, shirt, and loot bag. Then we walked around for just a bit. I'm not a big race expo person. If you've seen one, you've seen them all. But this was Isaac's first large one, so I stuck it out for a while.</div>
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<i>Ha!</i></div>
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<i>I really, really like my charcoal grey technical tee.</i> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAoSIFzE4Fz9BHy7raImHKvy3WDvYb9cc95IE3fucTjwL9ZcY1KZRh266Av7j9c1RVpyt7b4YvxSmwSIGLVUo4FUlHT6EaOGnGoKfv_aukfBDf64gjhfdZ8FyG10G5gcZO_83U/s1600/8.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAoSIFzE4Fz9BHy7raImHKvy3WDvYb9cc95IE3fucTjwL9ZcY1KZRh266Av7j9c1RVpyt7b4YvxSmwSIGLVUo4FUlHT6EaOGnGoKfv_aukfBDf64gjhfdZ8FyG10G5gcZO_83U/s1600/8.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Isaac wanted to carry my things.</i></div>
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<i> </i><br /></div>
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After the expo we headed out to Robin's house in Houma, Louisiana. My phone directed me on a 90 minute journey there. That felt longer than the drive to New Orleans. But we finally made it.</div>
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<i>Here are Isaac and Charlie, enjoying some cupcakes from our hometown.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCNdvXW3UWSffm4KWuau0BK-Z8HoL55b1isRTJornq0MepvgLe-jI-AhkrfKJ5lnhgJZhWJAFnulhqil11UmcOKxrpS5ezW_zf1IYZnbJp40Yu1n-50Kbk8jSIgnmAsuQxUNsT/s1600/10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCNdvXW3UWSffm4KWuau0BK-Z8HoL55b1isRTJornq0MepvgLe-jI-AhkrfKJ5lnhgJZhWJAFnulhqil11UmcOKxrpS5ezW_zf1IYZnbJp40Yu1n-50Kbk8jSIgnmAsuQxUNsT/s1600/10.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>And here is Isaac wearing Charlie's "shrimp boots."</i></div>
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On Saturday morning we all headed into New Orleans to do some sight seeing. After a lunch of grilled shrimp, we toured the very neat <a href="http://www.auduboninstitute.org/visit/aquarium" target="_blank">Audubon Aquarium of the Americas</a>. Then we walked along the riverfront area. That is where IT happened: a seagull pooped on my arm. I thought someone had thrown a rock at me! Then I discovered what it really was. Eeewwww! I thought "This has got to be some sort of good omen, somehow." Ha. </div>
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<i>Here we are along the river. It was a gorgeous day.</i></div>
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After a streetcar ride and some more walking around, we got ready to call it a day. Robin had arranged for us to stay at her sister's home that evening in nearby Metairie. That would mean only a 10 minute drive to the race for me, and I greatly appreciated that. </div>
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<i>After dinner I laid out all of my gear, and that included putting my timing strip on my shoe.</i></div>
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I slept alone in Robin's niece's room that night, and I slept well. I was a little leery about only having ONE alarm set, but I trusted that everything would be OK. Even when I stay at hotels with three alarms, I usually wake up before my phone tells me to. So at 5 AM I was up making eggs and getting ready.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYdswB1SA0eh0i0_OEaANLi2mKw9zEzNb8ocHmnm4L9Udg8tlthJ3RRnyZPrwxxEWAdVaJ-VaTvHTE49J6OdVFaAz8hI8qKzke69UfMKLKXOgpfDUOg3gQ9UtvaAoHrA72_IuQ/s1600/13.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYdswB1SA0eh0i0_OEaANLi2mKw9zEzNb8ocHmnm4L9Udg8tlthJ3RRnyZPrwxxEWAdVaJ-VaTvHTE49J6OdVFaAz8hI8qKzke69UfMKLKXOgpfDUOg3gQ9UtvaAoHrA72_IuQ/s1600/13.JPG" height="320" width="219" /></a></div>
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<i>Here I am all ready to go, for the most part.</i></div>
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I got the the premium parking lot with ease. You see, this race started and finished miles apart. So, unless I got dropped off, I'd have a long walk back to my car. The extra $20 spent on the lot by the finish line, as well as the shuttle to the start, was money well spent.</div>
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For a race this large, I anticipated the lines for the port-o-potties to be very long. But they weren't. That's a first! Of course, there seemed to be hundreds of them. Say what you may about the Rock 'n' Roll races, but everything seemed to be very well thought out, logistically. </div>
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I made my way to the starting area, and I discovered my corral, #15, was blocks and blocks away. The race was just that large! I finally got there after the gun had fired, but this was a wave start, so I had plenty of time to spare. In fact, I didn't start until 7:28 AM. So what did I do for almost a half hour? I people watched, waited for my Garmin to find signal, and I observed the FOG. There was lots of it. Chasen later told me that New Orleans had 93% humidity when the race began. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj65r1rZnI22tjkyKtTWO-6qeRjFIE9EEcJC5V7KN1F2laY_ZYTw0lP2AM4ow4lp8IEHP5cP-MreMsTfF-BDbOtYht0VHdnyrWqA12tv8ZSCJWc2-h5lgmULOoKVrB2WxeChcef/s1600/14.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj65r1rZnI22tjkyKtTWO-6qeRjFIE9EEcJC5V7KN1F2laY_ZYTw0lP2AM4ow4lp8IEHP5cP-MreMsTfF-BDbOtYht0VHdnyrWqA12tv8ZSCJWc2-h5lgmULOoKVrB2WxeChcef/s1600/14.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Lots of fog!</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL3kodwip3inZH6vAIyszVoRNpYSD-qb8oznYDJVrhHtU6x20CF2d1I6G7rf2bEDRNtLVQrrLgu2B6zt-RRUastQNoMUS4_kT2ULAbE4VpdWkv1LRTdHZbN9qeJyelV1Rn7OeU/s1600/15.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL3kodwip3inZH6vAIyszVoRNpYSD-qb8oznYDJVrhHtU6x20CF2d1I6G7rf2bEDRNtLVQrrLgu2B6zt-RRUastQNoMUS4_kT2ULAbE4VpdWkv1LRTdHZbN9qeJyelV1Rn7OeU/s1600/15.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Lots of <a href="http://fundraising.stjude.org/site/PageServer?pagename=heroes_home" target="_blank">St. Jude Heroes</a>! Memphis REPRESENT!</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdnBmnIb-FSc17N-ZU89fSIYjtDApRN9H8jHTv68lgLddAGLTAVq3di9ln7Dw4jkI0P7YpTzOMOx-DEQgCUo7Y-ckfWjSaeNTj0la9cKRtH6gilbNhSDg9wAT6W7v4seT9-N7V/s1600/16.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdnBmnIb-FSc17N-ZU89fSIYjtDApRN9H8jHTv68lgLddAGLTAVq3di9ln7Dw4jkI0P7YpTzOMOx-DEQgCUo7Y-ckfWjSaeNTj0la9cKRtH6gilbNhSDg9wAT6W7v4seT9-N7V/s1600/16.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>I finally got to start! Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" was blaring.</i></div>
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The first few miles were downtown, like most city races. It was muggy, people. If you don't know humidity, consider yourself lucky. It wasn't very hot, thankfully, but it was sticky. It was still pretty clear, albeit misting rain. Then it got super foggy. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUKRqtIWbdeHSHRUlbcaRjxKv-AwL-Gu_VSGlXIQ0zbuVkoHpYKvLMunIlcgr0Cgn5jSwkE2OYD4ar1shE-Q6NPt9L8_SvWQy43pCpyYxVoOBObPooQzRWoYbKZoSDyOI3XRUV/s1600/17.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUKRqtIWbdeHSHRUlbcaRjxKv-AwL-Gu_VSGlXIQ0zbuVkoHpYKvLMunIlcgr0Cgn5jSwkE2OYD4ar1shE-Q6NPt9L8_SvWQy43pCpyYxVoOBObPooQzRWoYbKZoSDyOI3XRUV/s1600/17.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh19Jjvj2jcVIWWviGCLnKIOcAI5XUBLFzoX4T89engphq1MoZEpM6va9uY2YfJ2uwbn8ESgd_-q4W0J6g3AAFq_GSbIdwmTrhivoBeJefu3Cq4emZURiTHFVcOsvmvAJqWc7V1/s1600/19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh19Jjvj2jcVIWWviGCLnKIOcAI5XUBLFzoX4T89engphq1MoZEpM6va9uY2YfJ2uwbn8ESgd_-q4W0J6g3AAFq_GSbIdwmTrhivoBeJefu3Cq4emZURiTHFVcOsvmvAJqWc7V1/s1600/19.jpg" height="320" width="231" /></a></div>
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<i>There I am chug-chug-chugging along in the fog. </i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHYhURIrtkttcck3NDX8WmNrYHU298m3fBwc1JIfMUKqFxpbTrw5cFieTxcn-4PGIGXeYLocFhrITa_jB5whIfSy2G3yMuUAzdlWnFFb73zDTYoaWXTzEiQz2Jiw0zKhwX50wo/s1600/20.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHYhURIrtkttcck3NDX8WmNrYHU298m3fBwc1JIfMUKqFxpbTrw5cFieTxcn-4PGIGXeYLocFhrITa_jB5whIfSy2G3yMuUAzdlWnFFb73zDTYoaWXTzEiQz2Jiw0zKhwX50wo/s1600/20.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>I heard lots of off-color comments about running under the inflatable Brooks man.</i></div>
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Speaking of off-color, there were at least a few off-color signs along the course. I was shocked! I can only remember one right now, and I certainly won't repeat it.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaGhkWmXsnNUuaLAxBslXuU4dQwZv1V3huMAAVuYZZHmgVqsZ0BBPxaOzWu9mYDS_n-uVW2qMuUTcwXxWDxwddLR2XLlmETS26iocVLP799SWxBZrpuDUbu-kg79f0L8I92abP/s1600/21.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaGhkWmXsnNUuaLAxBslXuU4dQwZv1V3huMAAVuYZZHmgVqsZ0BBPxaOzWu9mYDS_n-uVW2qMuUTcwXxWDxwddLR2XLlmETS26iocVLP799SWxBZrpuDUbu-kg79f0L8I92abP/s1600/21.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Here's a good one.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigFHhJMhiRP4dONFrEFZPJv7r-Q-GwPxObhmWGFs76CjdxmlNI_s6cGbVr5zkRQkgxCoFNE5iOSBkRJO0IOmPjX1NEIqzC-RU1lk4tQZvZ8VebCFULzBAWm0BUeSi3pl0NkIQg/s1600/22.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigFHhJMhiRP4dONFrEFZPJv7r-Q-GwPxObhmWGFs76CjdxmlNI_s6cGbVr5zkRQkgxCoFNE5iOSBkRJO0IOmPjX1NEIqzC-RU1lk4tQZvZ8VebCFULzBAWm0BUeSi3pl0NkIQg/s1600/22.JPG" height="218" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>And another very New Orleans one.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaE0Wz7E_b6nm0YhLWbYv9CtwGYH6QB_Q6wkmMihpd8npjNZGCWZ2ayeA2GxwsBcDOMXT6V0r8ah8yrXL7wxSs9Rw5P4NVc2jhcXPOh8p27udSJKCseXQ7Js7LI-f3Tmbf1myP/s1600/23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaE0Wz7E_b6nm0YhLWbYv9CtwGYH6QB_Q6wkmMihpd8npjNZGCWZ2ayeA2GxwsBcDOMXT6V0r8ah8yrXL7wxSs9Rw5P4NVc2jhcXPOh8p27udSJKCseXQ7Js7LI-f3Tmbf1myP/s1600/23.jpg" height="320" width="229" /></a></div>
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<i>While I look determined in this photo, I appear to have a Kim Kardashian rear. I really don't.</i> </div>
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I have to admit that the first half of the race was filled with doubts. After the fiasco that was <a href="http://www.irunformylife.blogspot.com/2013/10/indianapolis-marathon.html" target="_blank">marathon #12</a>, I had reservations about potentially running in the rain. A month or two before the race, I had doubts about running, period. I'm thankful for several amazingly supportive friends who kept on encouraging me to make it to New Orleans. But, once the misting rain turned into a downpour, I thought "I'm done. I'll just come back next year, stay with Robin again, and it'll all be alright. It's a fairly easy drive. I don't have much money invested in this." Thankfully that rain lasted only a minute or two, so I persevered. After all, I hate the idea of quitting. I may be slow as molasses, but I don't quit.</div>
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Shortly after leaving downtown, we headed down beautiful St. Charles Avenue, which is lined with mature trees. They provided both shade and a bit of an umbrella from the rain. Almost the entire rest of the course was an out-and-back, i.e. you could always see speedy people who were miles and miles ahead of you running the opposite direction. That was, at times, a tough pill to swallow. On the other hand, it was great for people watching.</div>
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One of the toughest parts of races for me is when the halfers turn off to head to their finish line. You can hear the hooplah, and you wish you were nearly done. But the glass half full approach is that you get to celebrate being half done already, and the runners thin out quite a bit. So let's go with the latter!</div>
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I left the city park/finish area and headed down another long out-and-back that lead me to Lake Pontchartrain. It was during this long stretch that I had an epiphany. I truly did. I discovered that, once and for all, I truly do not care about my marathon time. I just don't. I want to run the race, enjoy it, enjoy the scenery, and get my medal. I love every second of it, even when I'm struggling. There ya have it. If I ever get faster, that's great. But if I never do, I'll be perfectly content.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI0ov4NPZmiH_NQDlV1E1wFOpGwz0tDLhQ62D79Lea_vRS2D5joPoa8TuLdYO6IFlF6GqiPyQS7GQRPiO-727XybFIi8G-ToJSe24oQvwEmuH4jOXt06qweI7hmdtKR3Om8Rjc/s1600/24.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI0ov4NPZmiH_NQDlV1E1wFOpGwz0tDLhQ62D79Lea_vRS2D5joPoa8TuLdYO6IFlF6GqiPyQS7GQRPiO-727XybFIi8G-ToJSe24oQvwEmuH4jOXt06qweI7hmdtKR3Om8Rjc/s1600/24.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Lake Pontchartrain brought me a lot of clarity, wouldn't you say?</i></div>
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It was a long, long distance out by the lake. With the exception of 2 or 3 small bridges, this course was flat as a pancake. So I had lots of time to think! The turnaround was at mile 19 or 20, I think. So, not only did it feel good to get to the 20's, it just felt good to turn around and "head back home." As a bonus, I discovered that I wasn't the last runner! I encouraged lots of people who were not yet to the turnaround. </div>
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Past mile 20 --get this!-- I passed people left and right! My body felt good, and my <a href="http://www.irunformylife.blogspot.com/2014/02/homemade-energy-bars.html" target="_blank">homemade energy bars</a> were doing their job. I may be slow, but I'm STEADY. (At least I was this day.) I was just so happy to be out there! I mean, running marathons is what I live for! So, like I said, I don't care how long it takes me. It's my happy place. </div>
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I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the wonderful water stations. Different groups staffed them, including tiny cheerleaders, girl scouts, boy scouts, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hash_House_Harriers" target="_blank">Hash House Harriers</a> wearing red dresses (men, too!), and, my favorite, a group of white haired cajun gentlemen. At mile 24 or so, when I'm sure I wasn't looking so wonderful, one said "You got dis, dahlin!" Another said "Guhl, you almost done and you know it!" Ha - I loved it. </div>
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Finally I was within a half mile or so of the finish line. That's always the longest half mile of my life. I was spent, but I made it to the start of the chute. I channeled some hustle and bee-lined it for the end. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifseEDQWz0fA_l6uuz-LjjU1gcAjjFAy7itjtZc7ewEog98eG7UCagL_JR_MK2G5c9pMJEjO8ssAUCtMX5kD3zYWkyriOXaitCCkccI0jyHcWKEciXMGQ727z3a-950nDFjK8Q/s1600/25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifseEDQWz0fA_l6uuz-LjjU1gcAjjFAy7itjtZc7ewEog98eG7UCagL_JR_MK2G5c9pMJEjO8ssAUCtMX5kD3zYWkyriOXaitCCkccI0jyHcWKEciXMGQ727z3a-950nDFjK8Q/s1600/25.jpg" height="320" width="244" /></a></div>
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<i>I'm coming, I'm coming!</i></div>
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An announcer, perhaps the race director, was standing with a microphone on the course and said "Here comes Susan and she's got her arms up and she looks ready to finish." Brother, ain't that the truth!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2r93Gr6cGGKWnXPBSLUeJ2-sHVU6Dv61RPaP_UNuTnY0sb_0fBXnIS11f-5Zz5oeFIlmIwwfmxRxJ_VOXhcXbTVz8nR8x84OxI51ldna8VMi493C9Kru-CuXUBJLja803fkFy/s1600/26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2r93Gr6cGGKWnXPBSLUeJ2-sHVU6Dv61RPaP_UNuTnY0sb_0fBXnIS11f-5Zz5oeFIlmIwwfmxRxJ_VOXhcXbTVz8nR8x84OxI51ldna8VMi493C9Kru-CuXUBJLja803fkFy/s1600/26.jpg" height="320" width="231" /></a></div>
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<i>He high fived me, and I loved it.</i> </div>
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I crossed the finish line and, as always, was happy as a clam. There is no better feeling in the world than completing a marathon. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0q3flX8HGMQNXViqgVH0u86XFPi6NtC7fl70sV8Y2twBwZF1ia0GrQAwjjbSQoyH2BeIB-oh5rQivdUFesOk9lcpctgn9Mrc074ybUTRG0rcpjTupsx9pAG0InXYB_nuRBwu3/s1600/27.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0q3flX8HGMQNXViqgVH0u86XFPi6NtC7fl70sV8Y2twBwZF1ia0GrQAwjjbSQoyH2BeIB-oh5rQivdUFesOk9lcpctgn9Mrc074ybUTRG0rcpjTupsx9pAG0InXYB_nuRBwu3/s1600/27.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Happy, happy, happy!</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoe5iHSiDH5TCBxQVm01M63zntBUbq04VhG8IDuIxVjLvV2hkGTVq7_OkhNSIcwYEJRRy6BJmnHejUNl83I32EoAO0ruyy_icGqQBUUeOW-o7g9g91bvfo5ullk41XwrCyu9He/s1600/28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoe5iHSiDH5TCBxQVm01M63zntBUbq04VhG8IDuIxVjLvV2hkGTVq7_OkhNSIcwYEJRRy6BJmnHejUNl83I32EoAO0ruyy_icGqQBUUeOW-o7g9g91bvfo5ullk41XwrCyu9He/s1600/28.jpg" height="320" width="231" /></a></div>
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<i>Love!</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqD1Ip8lwpF3SDu_TvWQibu6IYabB4GQNC9N-mqXRytoyU8uv6lxe6_Wt7EV5fRP8FB_wR3PjUGC6x7y9i0AQTSdtqpWa8T1lBm1Hwj29rYoZTDIgwDfZr3zZny7qU3uV9JMLp/s1600/29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqD1Ip8lwpF3SDu_TvWQibu6IYabB4GQNC9N-mqXRytoyU8uv6lxe6_Wt7EV5fRP8FB_wR3PjUGC6x7y9i0AQTSdtqpWa8T1lBm1Hwj29rYoZTDIgwDfZr3zZny7qU3uV9JMLp/s1600/29.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Aaaaaaand the bling! This makes it all worth it.</i></div>
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See, best medal in Louisiana! What an experience. Even though it took what seemed like an eternity to get to my car and get out of those "devil shoes," which is what I call running shoes after 26.2, I couldn't wait to call home and tell Chasen about it. And I was so excited to show Isaac my medal. Good times!</div>
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I headed back to Metairie, got cleaned up, and then we all headed back to Houma and actually watched the Super Bowl a bit. Isaac and I slept like the dead that night. Go figure. We headed back to Southaven the next morning. I fared well during the long drive. Either due to my change from heel striking to running on the balls of my feet, or because the course was so flat, my quads had very little soreness. I could actually walk down stairs pain free! </div>
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I'm not exactly sure when #14 will be, but I know it'll be fun. Keep running, friends, and don't stop believing!</div>
Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516566884075321281noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32790015.post-76662004730902462912014-02-04T13:36:00.001-06:002014-02-04T13:36:44.545-06:00Homemade Energy Bars<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I am participating in a 60 day STRICT <a href="http://thepaleodiet.com/" target="_blank">paleo</a> challenge at CrossFit. There's a lot more to it than just the food, but for the purpose of this post, "just the facts, ma'am." So, with a marathon looming ahead, I was told that my Gu's would count as a "cheat meal," which would cost me 10 points. OH, HECK NO! If I'm going to have a cheat meal, it is going to be something sinfully scrumptious, not stinkin' Gu. Enough said.</div>
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So a friend suggested that I try homemade energy bars instead. She had a recipe (100% paleo!) that she was quite fond of, so I gave it a whirl. The original recipe can be found <a href="http://mywholefoodlife.com/2013/02/18/pecan-pie-larabars/" target="_blank">here</a>. </div>
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Chasen and I decided have a go of it, so he sped off to the store to get all, whopping three ingredients:</div>
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<li>1 cups almonds</li>
<li>1 cup pecans</li>
<li>1 cup dates</li>
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That's all, folks. Really. How simple!</div>
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I put each into my tiny food processor, individually, because it can't fit much more than one cup. After mere seconds each was blended to smithereens. I then dumped it into a large bowl and moved on to the next ingredient. So fast!</div>
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*Note: I added a bit of salt because it's something I desperately need while running.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU1_UD2aDIumbWcNqDFhYBRIrrZNiZAgwe9-0Nn-gDKBQ1oGt-9X2tAJfMQj7GF-61T7P3CHeRGsK5DyeNsfRrmWLUFKJKKO3Aj-6KKIpxKHGubfWGnl6Ixjmxs2ipo6n3DEXE/s1600/bars+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU1_UD2aDIumbWcNqDFhYBRIrrZNiZAgwe9-0Nn-gDKBQ1oGt-9X2tAJfMQj7GF-61T7P3CHeRGsK5DyeNsfRrmWLUFKJKKO3Aj-6KKIpxKHGubfWGnl6Ixjmxs2ipo6n3DEXE/s1600/bars+1.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Here is the mix, sticky dates included. So good you could eat it with a spoon!</i></div>
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Next I elected to put just a splash of water in to make it mix up a touch easier. It smelled just like pecan pie! Who wouldn't love that? FYI the dates are what "hold it all together."</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiahwFsJ3lHT2_ockhwQcIyCxftWrbWT21Kq3PpysKml4927_QpaDshDnGg3b9mnbTflsaC6Dx-VGBqz2UtsBF82J0YH0C7MOZV3vSw1OFMKI66BvffHU5n5ha2aQgF2ofuoUZY/s1600/bars+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiahwFsJ3lHT2_ockhwQcIyCxftWrbWT21Kq3PpysKml4927_QpaDshDnGg3b9mnbTflsaC6Dx-VGBqz2UtsBF82J0YH0C7MOZV3vSw1OFMKI66BvffHU5n5ha2aQgF2ofuoUZY/s1600/bars+2.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Now it's ready to move on to the next, easy step.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOMaRQHnzU0ehEG9SdQXcvqvxmdSyy9zXazLW133z2iFdXHOMo1t3D1KkrmNE7Eeu5fWP9FA0ay4ARwybQqsGp_tnm5NwMLkyF3N8AuZtxYsYB5ylGzCRjQYlrPc9_ElUHyPka/s1600/bars+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOMaRQHnzU0ehEG9SdQXcvqvxmdSyy9zXazLW133z2iFdXHOMo1t3D1KkrmNE7Eeu5fWP9FA0ay4ARwybQqsGp_tnm5NwMLkyF3N8AuZtxYsYB5ylGzCRjQYlrPc9_ElUHyPka/s1600/bars+3.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>I filled an 8x8 pan with wax paper and pressed the mix into it.</i></div>
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The pan needed to chill in the fridge until the gigantic bar was firm. I let it do so overnight. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZLnlza8JrzdLQ5yMCdznj_QHyRq1dOYQqsbVc9hsGi66WSHfHGmAjRlwajqIRjN61G68Elny1h3PaVSsvpYYmO4iophcyb9MnXty18tBbPWvheLQRWxlVRa0tD_BJFkhdwF7y/s1600/bars+4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZLnlza8JrzdLQ5yMCdznj_QHyRq1dOYQqsbVc9hsGi66WSHfHGmAjRlwajqIRjN61G68Elny1h3PaVSsvpYYmO4iophcyb9MnXty18tBbPWvheLQRWxlVRa0tD_BJFkhdwF7y/s1600/bars+4.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>The next morning I removed it from the pan. Easy peasy.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCfetZFxia6O7c-syTHdu4BBO9uBHQodEm-XdPpt2Pje2uePT1LTPT2wTV0TYbM8GeQ0t5UqPpiX4C2dOLA8znB6NYDAoH0Mfmc5CJ6jgQyFxPVkkdmGKBDLdss1__R_fHeVB3/s1600/bars5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCfetZFxia6O7c-syTHdu4BBO9uBHQodEm-XdPpt2Pje2uePT1LTPT2wTV0TYbM8GeQ0t5UqPpiX4C2dOLA8znB6NYDAoH0Mfmc5CJ6jgQyFxPVkkdmGKBDLdss1__R_fHeVB3/s1600/bars5.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Using a pizza cutter, I sliced it into Gu-sized strips.</i></div>
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My typical Gu has 100 calories. The entire pan of bars has about 1900 calories. I sliced it into eight (yes, only six are pictured -- quality control, people!) and each had about 238 calories. I certainly do NOT worry about counting calories while running a marathon, but I was comforted knowing that I'd be getting more per serving.</div>
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The snack sized bags could easily be safety pinned to my fuel belt, I was certain. After all, they're only a tiny bit larger than a typical energy gel. </div>
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We liked these so much, from a taste standpoint, that Isaac and I immediately made another batch the next morning just to have around the house. When you can please a "nut job" runner, a man with high standards, and a 4-year-old all in one go... well, that's saying something. I hope you love them as much as we do!</div>
Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516566884075321281noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32790015.post-50006043967724218042013-12-26T14:48:00.001-06:002013-12-26T14:49:04.725-06:00Jammin'! <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Last summer Chasen had a class pretty much every Saturday morning. It got old really, really quickly. He missed some t-ball games, which stank, but at least we were occupied. When t-ball ran out, I was at a loss for things to keep us busy. So I decided to check "blueberry picking" off my Mississippi bucket list. You see, ever since we moved here 5+ years ago, I've heard people talk about going blueberry picking. So I did a little research and discovered that the <a href="http://www.nesbitblueberry.com/" target="_blank">Nesbit Blueberry Plantation</a> was less than 10 miles away. Score! I loaded Isaac up and off we went.</div>
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We were some of the first people to arrive. It was July... in Mississippi... so it was H-O-T. I won't lie; I hated every second of it. Unless there is running involved, I'm really an indoor girl. Hey - it is what it is. Nonetheless, Isaac and I went up and down rows and rows of beautiful blueberry bushes. He was having a blast, and all the while I was wishing to load up and go to <a href="http://www.sonicdrivein.com/" target="_blank">Sonic</a> and get a cold drink. Ha! It took about two hours, I think, but we finally picked one measly gallon of homegrown blueberries for $12. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio4pKFbnPYzCLO0RWWX43d0kvl0MPT7w1QQpzTX7zxBbQ6EsvVHS5aPY-a7zi5iJs8ceu3nJSLPRznHkoNCQc57CRLKZMwQb5DSA6ZilvQkmUVfIGNhQGuAx6ds_pm8u9VQ3sQ/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio4pKFbnPYzCLO0RWWX43d0kvl0MPT7w1QQpzTX7zxBbQ6EsvVHS5aPY-a7zi5iJs8ceu3nJSLPRznHkoNCQc57CRLKZMwQb5DSA6ZilvQkmUVfIGNhQGuAx6ds_pm8u9VQ3sQ/s320/1.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>There I am with my gallon bucket tied around my waist. Love those red New Balance 990's!</i></div>
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We got home and I realized just how many blueberries were in a gallon. Holy moly! What was I going to do with all of those? I looked in a favorite cookbook by Southern Living and found a couple of recipes. One was for a blueberry pie (which I made a month later) and the other was for blueberry jam. I measured out the required amounts for each and froze them. Was I really planning to make jam? Me?</div>
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Sure enough, I was. I decided it'd make a sweet Christmas present for close friends. I mean, who doesn't like jam? It was actually quite easy. First I had to crush the blueberries, so I just put them in my blender. Next they went in a large pot with lemon juice and SEVEN CUPS OF SUGAR. Get your insulin ready, friends! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtNAvlvJLgKZ9nxtF5Q0LVjqb2dH0dJFGfGCtkViKIfxPzYnlshMiTNeXoFd-38H8BTPSe7KXP7C9MgNalEIxKDeLbBltPsZYCiNN_TYiQGp9F5E3j4BSkVyIJbTOBOxm2ixo2/s1600/2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtNAvlvJLgKZ9nxtF5Q0LVjqb2dH0dJFGfGCtkViKIfxPzYnlshMiTNeXoFd-38H8BTPSe7KXP7C9MgNalEIxKDeLbBltPsZYCiNN_TYiQGp9F5E3j4BSkVyIJbTOBOxm2ixo2/s320/2.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>That's a pretty color, huh?</i></div>
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I added some liquid pectin, which I had never heard of, and stirred and stirred. The tricky part was ladling it into 8 oz jars. </div>
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<i>I didn't make too much of a mess, but jammin', by definition, is a messy task. So get ready!</i></div>
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What came next surprised me, as I didn't read ahead in my recipe. I had to "process" the jars in boiling water for five minutes. </div>
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<i>Boiling closed jars seems dangerous, but I survived.</i></div>
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There they are! Ten beautiful little jars of jam. I was anticipating five, and I have rechecked my math, so I am still clueless as to why I ended up with ten. </div>
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<i>Say hello to my little friends!</i></div>
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I am so, so proud of my jam. It pretty much makes my awful two hours in Nesbit worth it. And despite all of the sugar, it really tastes like fresh blueberries. Guess I know what I'll be doing next summer! </div>
Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516566884075321281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32790015.post-29224650811362873122013-11-17T18:57:00.002-06:002013-11-17T18:57:22.109-06:00Mt. Nebo State Park / Turkey Run 5k<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
After a whopping seventeen months, my family finally got to spend a little vacation time <i>together</i>. Due to various factors, we've only gotten to take trips separately, and that stinks! So earlier this fall we decided that -- by golly! -- we were going to go camping no matter what. And so we did. </div>
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Being that I am a native Arkansan, and Chasen spent probably 12 or 13 years there, we both know that there is just no better place to camp. They don't call it The Natural State for nothing! So he found us an affordable, available cabin at <a href="http://www.arkansasstateparks.com/mountnebo/#.UolfaHDSaSo" target="_blank">Mt. Nebo State Park</a>. We loaded up his truck, added in Isaac's good friend, Michael, and we headed west. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYSH2FCzgjWjV5X0ohxE0n5A1EIqoSwFOFQAvlRNJt-taABknGQnmo6ZOZqdv9_mDV3CF6nWS1Rs2MCfv7L7l4xDUCXlep8EZzuruOXn9kW-IwWC5og8Q1xVtprdH7OqC9dXYT/s1600/1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYSH2FCzgjWjV5X0ohxE0n5A1EIqoSwFOFQAvlRNJt-taABknGQnmo6ZOZqdv9_mDV3CF6nWS1Rs2MCfv7L7l4xDUCXlep8EZzuruOXn9kW-IwWC5og8Q1xVtprdH7OqC9dXYT/s320/1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>This sign preceded a VERY steep, windy road to majestic views.</i></div>
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We would our way up Mt. Nebo and I thought to myself "there's a good chance I may not do any running this weekend," even though I had my gear. I was planning to run, but that hill was very discouraging.</div>
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After checking in at the visitor's center, we easily found our sweet, little cabin. It had a kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, and living room with two futons and a lovely fireplace. Perfect!</div>
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<i>Here is a rear view showing the awesome rock patio area.</i></div>
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<i> This is what it overlooked. Seriously!</i></div>
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Chasen went out to search for a playground for the boys, and he discovered that a 5k was going to be held within the park the next morning. That was my sign; the run <i>was</i> going to happen, hills or no hills.</div>
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After a rather exhausting two weeks, I slept like a rock that night. In fact, I got about eleven hours of sleep. The beauty of traveling with small children, and staying in close quarters, is that you basically have to go to sleep at the same time as them. While that may be annoying at times, on this occasion it was a blessing.</div>
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After cooking a big breakfast on Saturday morning, I headed to the 5k area to see if I could register "with my good looks," as I had no cash or checks with me. Just a few hundred feet from our cabin I saw eighteen deer cross the road. Yes, 18! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiGCim1iaK9yNOTkc5vIFsz8kLUPvK9YNwol5HgODAeQJzVPkyCZtXuxFRmG0_2Px_JDcyB_RM44EqxmBU3w8uLgjvGIl8Dn3TabjA8L85tdNcT9HrxT3PXeWGr5wML5TIgrsh/s1600/4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiGCim1iaK9yNOTkc5vIFsz8kLUPvK9YNwol5HgODAeQJzVPkyCZtXuxFRmG0_2Px_JDcyB_RM44EqxmBU3w8uLgjvGIl8Dn3TabjA8L85tdNcT9HrxT3PXeWGr5wML5TIgrsh/s320/4.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>They just kept on going and going!</i></div>
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I located the 5k organizers, and they graciously said I could mail in my entry fee. So I hurried back to the cabin and got into my running clothes. The four of us went to the start/finish area and waited it out. The boys were happy to play on the playground equipment. The did so during the entire race.</div>
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It was a VERY small race. It was the first running of the event, and I think the impending rain may have deterred a lot of potential participants. There were 22 of us in all. I was to maintain a 12:00 pace, per my <a href="http://www.liftheavyrunlong.com/" target="_blank">new running coach</a> (more on him later). That, believe it or not, is a big stretch for me these days. Unfortunately, I have slowed down incredibly over the past few years. My coach is going to help fix that! None the less, I was worried about the 12:00 pace. One reason I was excited about the 5k is because I knew it would help to <i>push</i> me. And it did.</div>
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I kept my sights on a college girl in front of me (yes, probably 18-20 years younger). She stayed about 100-200 feet ahead of me until mile 2. I was determined to catch her. I finally got to about 50 feet behind her. I knew it was "now or never," so I hustled up. I got close, and she surged ahead. Finally, I had the chance again, and I surged more. I passed her, and I was "hell bent and whiskey bound" to keep it that way. The finish wasn't too much farther up, so I just gave it all I had. Chasen and the boys were at the final corner, and they were cheering for me. That helped! I crossed the finish line in 36:24, which is about an 11:45 pace. Whoo hoo!</div>
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I came in at 12 of 22. I'm not used to being in the middle of the pack! Ha. But guess what it was good enough for:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiySvJhelwLLNfVDAsEzNm4W6FSD96ZAt_4TZG-D0gnEszKMkDUTAeMxLhTsY3EfcMvA0uqMpJs4oZghW06aFd5n_UlL-BhB1-hrnNHZ0aYNOErOrQbNoPtct06X4e4VYkbVsZ/s1600/5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiySvJhelwLLNfVDAsEzNm4W6FSD96ZAt_4TZG-D0gnEszKMkDUTAeMxLhTsY3EfcMvA0uqMpJs4oZghW06aFd5n_UlL-BhB1-hrnNHZ0aYNOErOrQbNoPtct06X4e4VYkbVsZ/s320/5.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>A medal for little ole me! I couldn't believe it!</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwHciADEsIVg-dHL32HdGzAqPZIUGcem8ozcUsb7_xVofHBhYNHy2oIORfVdQzZGMoLqkZq9hILBmCYLmyey7Iu59azLYgEvg6U4Ev12lAC2dGtIz-92Wa6US1n1oWUBEO5qRY/s1600/6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwHciADEsIVg-dHL32HdGzAqPZIUGcem8ozcUsb7_xVofHBhYNHy2oIORfVdQzZGMoLqkZq9hILBmCYLmyey7Iu59azLYgEvg6U4Ev12lAC2dGtIz-92Wa6US1n1oWUBEO5qRY/s320/6.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i> There's 2/3 of my handsome cheering section.</i></div>
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<i>Here's my race t-shirt. I like the turkey.</i></div>
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My Saturday got off to a great start, huh? After that we went back into vacation mode. We hiked as far as the boys would allow (which wasn't all that far). </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwWzud4nq6B7-GUtlVSqzGM02TcF5BZXeJAUr_qIUD82mMInvxcM9lRDsO9UDaRHlpawilBW6BiUIM2YtxInJ84Y8Y-3hPt8f_f6nsIQs1iaf1pbz3oTq5sHdqZIj96NDoecMg/s1600/8.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwWzud4nq6B7-GUtlVSqzGM02TcF5BZXeJAUr_qIUD82mMInvxcM9lRDsO9UDaRHlpawilBW6BiUIM2YtxInJ84Y8Y-3hPt8f_f6nsIQs1iaf1pbz3oTq5sHdqZIj96NDoecMg/s320/8.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i> Chasen and I</i></div>
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<i>Isaac and Michael</i></div>
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It was such a peaceful, relaxing, gorgeous weekend. It was <i>just</i> what I needed. We enjoyed campfires, s'mores, sleeping with the windows open, and more. I've already told Chasen that we need to go ahead and book next year's trip. Life's too short to not camp.</div>
Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516566884075321281noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32790015.post-80781685373600080752013-11-08T17:04:00.002-06:002013-11-08T17:04:32.025-06:00Happy Fall, Y'all!Crafting is NOT my thing. When I'm good at something, I'm <i>really</i> good at it. But when I'm bad... my, my, my! And crafting is something that is not my strong suit. However, we should always try to improve ourselves by trying new things. So I saw <a href="http://torispelling.com/blog/post/craftista-my-year-round-wreath-diy-home-decor" target="_blank">an idea for a wreath</a> that promised to be easy, and I decided to go for it. It involved two trips to the fabric store (that's one more than I was happy with), lots of cutting out circles (94 to be exact), and even more uttering of the question, with rolled eyes, "WHY am I doing this?" This is what I've ended up with/settled with:<br />
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<i>See Isaac in the reflection? He LOVES this ole thing.</i> </div>
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Isaac was by my side for pretty much the whole process, so I couldn't just quit and throw the whole works in the trash. He also picked out all of the accompanying pumpkins and gourds.</div>
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<i>Here is my back door's fall scene, complete with old New Balance.</i></div>
Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516566884075321281noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32790015.post-29869569782121007322013-10-30T11:37:00.001-05:002013-10-30T11:37:43.437-05:00Runner Feet, Be Gone!Like most everyone out there, I enjoy seeing friends' posts on Facebook. While some posts may be annoying recipe shares, every once in a while I see something that really looks to be worth investigating. One day I happened upon something that really caught my attention: a "foot soaking" solution. As someone who has her fair share of yucky, dead skin on her poor ole marathon feet, I thought this was worth a shot.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSZYfSc_1kdTxjSEgUkbHLBxi_3mSEma5nil8mflJUIINEwkv41soiLJ-XLgJ32eHrT-xgGoRoe_pCF50NEzUlUESDoOyXXzFdjyxqOlUu1T_feC1uKuTdB5xBVz77byW1BV2e/s1600/footscrub.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="113" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSZYfSc_1kdTxjSEgUkbHLBxi_3mSEma5nil8mflJUIINEwkv41soiLJ-XLgJ32eHrT-xgGoRoe_pCF50NEzUlUESDoOyXXzFdjyxqOlUu1T_feC1uKuTdB5xBVz77byW1BV2e/s320/footscrub.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Looks simple enough, right?</i></div>
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With as straightforward an ingredients list as that, it was worth trying. Most people probably already have those items on hand. The only thing is... as is, that recipe makes one cup of liquid. That's NOT enough to cover two rough feet! I quadruple that and get a whopping two cups of liquid. It is sufficient. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKETBk9eodL-tA1BJ63CfO8neXF0Pc4amRyTG1RUwYg1vQBmWtCcf5qE5sK3bmBnuPp8IbOMVGYq-RRLFVKeKo8dkDxo7XKtZGeBAy_-1gt2dRS8gTZSTMQXTm5p5H1UfP8A0P/s1600/feet.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKETBk9eodL-tA1BJ63CfO8neXF0Pc4amRyTG1RUwYg1vQBmWtCcf5qE5sK3bmBnuPp8IbOMVGYq-RRLFVKeKo8dkDxo7XKtZGeBAy_-1gt2dRS8gTZSTMQXTm5p5H1UfP8A0P/s320/feet.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Just like it says, soak those babies for ten minutes.</i></div>
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After the soak, with your feet still wet, you'll find it rather quick and easy to use a pumice stone. In no time you'll have smooth, minty fresh feet. </div>
Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516566884075321281noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32790015.post-78328143490748229022013-10-29T12:10:00.001-05:002013-10-29T12:10:25.762-05:00Thanksgiving in a Pot<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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If you know me personally, then you know that I love to cook. I love the "love" that is involved with providing a tasty, nutritious meal for my family. Recently a friend sent a highly recommended rosemary chicken recipe my way. Immediately I wanted to change some things about it, and boy did I get it right! I call it Thanksgiving in a Pot because it involves sweet potatoes and rosemary. Obviously you could easily use white potatoes and it would still be delicious.</div>
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<u>Thanksgiving in a Pot</u></div>
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<ul>
<li>3/4 pound sweet potatoes, cut into bite size pieces</li>
<li>2 teaspoons salt</li>
<li>2-3 sprigs rosemary</li>
<li>1 clove minced garlic</li>
<li>pinch of red pepper flakes</li>
<li>juice of two lemons (I use concentrate and eyeball it)</li>
<li>2 tablespoons olive oil</li>
<li>4 chicken breasts</li>
</ul>
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1. Peel the sweet potatoes and cut into bite size pieces. Place them in water and bring to a boil.</div>
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2. Pile the salt, garlic, red pepper flakes, and rosemary leaves (save one sprig, though) on a cutting board. Using a sharp knife, mince and mash it all into a paste. Transfer to a small bowl and add the lemon juice and olive oil. Add the chicken and turn to coat each piece.</div>
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3. Heat some olive oil in a large skillet. Add the chicken pieces and let each side barely brown.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcIyi_DG2QPFqSqz5TzDq8P1GIRQojF5bumbpZVyEV3E1qxQXRVmYjqXsZK-hV2_O9PGV3J1URWKW2HaEIses5Q8YGT7UvX8Rg14n3YYDsnpX9B7paJEGXGlST80WV2XteIN4g/s1600/tip+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcIyi_DG2QPFqSqz5TzDq8P1GIRQojF5bumbpZVyEV3E1qxQXRVmYjqXsZK-hV2_O9PGV3J1URWKW2HaEIses5Q8YGT7UvX8Rg14n3YYDsnpX9B7paJEGXGlST80WV2XteIN4g/s320/tip+1.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<i>I cut my boneless, skinless pieces in half.</i></div>
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4. Place the chicken into a Le Creuset type pot. (Mine is a bargain version.) Pour the sweet potatoes on top of it, as well as all of the drippings from the chicken skillet. Add the remaining sprig of rosemary, as well as some additional lemon juice (if you so desire).</div>
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP5nhY22voijUgQ39pM7xkeDgLsb8dpEWcW9OLJxEQ9_U4BWMlVquG7Qu2ZHcqt-4JtPhsJGqxkvEvVyotXMmQ50p7WpxPJhKUGLmY7CT95nxMw5qM-vdMWDPbZt1Id2JfDr17/s1600/tip+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP5nhY22voijUgQ39pM7xkeDgLsb8dpEWcW9OLJxEQ9_U4BWMlVquG7Qu2ZHcqt-4JtPhsJGqxkvEvVyotXMmQ50p7WpxPJhKUGLmY7CT95nxMw5qM-vdMWDPbZt1Id2JfDr17/s320/tip+2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Yep, just pile it all in there.</i></div>
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5. Bake, uncovered, at 450 degrees for 25-30 minutes. </div>
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJoEBnnx87xqsuVld_1VXIlD6-az7a7HCCNhyphenhyphenlJ3vO7udBrhVGKBnFKVtTyR-xNT3hD80Uafll68vu3QGQ5HHaQdRdTzDhnVSqaolow92uZRGq4Iy-Xks2J7WGZDb_WVg6oLP3/s1600/tip+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJoEBnnx87xqsuVld_1VXIlD6-az7a7HCCNhyphenhyphenlJ3vO7udBrhVGKBnFKVtTyR-xNT3hD80Uafll68vu3QGQ5HHaQdRdTzDhnVSqaolow92uZRGq4Iy-Xks2J7WGZDb_WVg6oLP3/s320/tip+3.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>The finished product will make your kitchen smell like a holiday!</i> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG47rWQEj0b1arVa3mstMwI3bZHm_sFfbOU9PP-NaQskUfDWwWFkPP_VT8rzeYB-LD_P77EIR6F1PyPEByfQM5g5UvuF4WHaiofuhLpOaezM5_abGhtNsOCNpx9kuYyJvWz4_2/s1600/tip4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG47rWQEj0b1arVa3mstMwI3bZHm_sFfbOU9PP-NaQskUfDWwWFkPP_VT8rzeYB-LD_P77EIR6F1PyPEByfQM5g5UvuF4WHaiofuhLpOaezM5_abGhtNsOCNpx9kuYyJvWz4_2/s320/tip4.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Here it is on a plate. My family adores it.</i></div>
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This dish is the definition of succulent: tender, juicy, tasty. The combination of lemon, red pepper, and rosemary is something to write home about!</div>
Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516566884075321281noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32790015.post-60443294558300539892013-10-23T13:46:00.001-05:002013-10-23T13:46:08.274-05:00Homemade Laundry Detergent<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I am a frugal person by nature. And I have been a die-hard <a href="http://www.daveramsey.com/" target="_blank">Dave Ramsey</a> follower for 3.5 years now. These two facts, in combination with my perception that my family of three produces a ridiculous amount of dirty laundry, led me to jump on the homemade laundry detergent bandwagon just over a year ago. Supposedly it's cheaper and better.</div>
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Well, guess what. That's true! We LOVE our homemade detergent. I just can't imagine having to use the store bought stuff ever again. </div>
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I have been using <a href="http://www.howdoesshe.com/cheaper-and-better-diy-laundry-detergent/" target="_blank">this recipe</a>. It offers some choices, so I'm going to go ahead and tell you how <i>I</i> do it. Here's what you'll need:</div>
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<li>5-gallon bucket, or a container of a similar size [note: it doesn't make five gallons... probably three]</li>
<li>cheese grater</li>
<li>4 lb 12 oz box of Borax</li>
<li>3 lb 7 ox box of Arm & Hammer Super Washing Soda</li>
<li>3 lb container of OxiClean</li>
<li>28.2 oz of Zote Soap (Fels Naptha is an acceptable substitute) [note: different scents are available]</li>
<li>4 lb box of Arm & Hammer Baking Soda</li>
<li>56 oz of Purex Crystals Fabric Softener [note: different scents are available]</li>
<li>funnel</li>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0FHOzaPkzRau9mpIn7z5AXBVJCUaoup5ib5Wxf0Nfhoi4fedRJzB-91uMAo-U1yeD_DJM5SdFE0AnPQbn9s9Oj6Pm0BMuwYIYBDIR5N6vxxB3vJefo_eDN6gDLD-Jh5buRu44/s1600/dtg+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0FHOzaPkzRau9mpIn7z5AXBVJCUaoup5ib5Wxf0Nfhoi4fedRJzB-91uMAo-U1yeD_DJM5SdFE0AnPQbn9s9Oj6Pm0BMuwYIYBDIR5N6vxxB3vJefo_eDN6gDLD-Jh5buRu44/s320/dtg+1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Here are my ingredients. They're all found on the laundry aisle of a grocery store.</i></div>
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The hardest part of this little project is grating the soap. Once that part is over, it's smooth, money-saving sailing. Simply put a small portion of each ingredient into the bucket and mix it all up. Repeat until it's all in the bucket.</div>
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Being that we're in the middle of a home renovation, we recently had to mix up some floor leveler in a bucket. Chasen bought a "mud mixer" that fits onto the end of a regular hand drill (see below). I suggested we use that for the detergent and it was much easier. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSoTUt2a7ylG6GO6xOCLaZAYf7b4C8VhdtXywPiUcXUWTWD-7b7_kMjVSlK2zu38rctS3HG79sO-0C9vj5vX-qAr1oY44eMS-7DhjxRTz7YoD8qGbVVWKD13s0l07377R5_IX-/s1600/dtg+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSoTUt2a7ylG6GO6xOCLaZAYf7b4C8VhdtXywPiUcXUWTWD-7b7_kMjVSlK2zu38rctS3HG79sO-0C9vj5vX-qAr1oY44eMS-7DhjxRTz7YoD8qGbVVWKD13s0l07377R5_IX-/s320/dtg+2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Even if you only use this for detergent, it's worth it to purchase one.</i></div>
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Once it's all mixed up, using a mud mixer or a large spoon, you'll need a small funnel of sorts to put the detergent into the fabric softener containers for easy day-to-day use. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjypt6FImbzlxN2iNswJT_VYCR0GjvtyaTivXBJTasuVSiB1c-jMuZpVo9-3XaRmn2ngKfgE-fdPnHW8__sChG1zHtu6pk20P30kclkxffoKGwCFVyNvIvETpSwJj1DIGmdkFcz/s1600/dtg+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjypt6FImbzlxN2iNswJT_VYCR0GjvtyaTivXBJTasuVSiB1c-jMuZpVo9-3XaRmn2ngKfgE-fdPnHW8__sChG1zHtu6pk20P30kclkxffoKGwCFVyNvIvETpSwJj1DIGmdkFcz/s320/dtg+3.JPG" width="291" /></a></div>
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<i>We use an oil funnel that can be found, for free, at most gas stations.</i></div>
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The black line on the inside of the fabric softener lid denotes 2 tablespoons. That's all each load requires! Isn't that amazing? We think so. One bucket lasts us between 5-7 months. The ingredients (not counting the bucket, grater, etc.) cost me $32.85 last time. So that's approximately $5-$7 per month. That's a huge savings for us, especially since I seem to be constantly washing sweaty running clothes.</div>
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We truly love how well this works AND smells. The two ingredients that determine the scent, as indicated above, are the fabric softener and the bars of soap. The fabric softener comes in three or four choices, and the soap comes in two or three. I don't think you can go wrong with any combination.</div>
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Happy Laundry Day!</div>
Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516566884075321281noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32790015.post-39535924104283547152013-10-20T22:54:00.002-05:002013-10-20T22:54:48.652-05:00Indianapolis Marathon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Let's start from the beginning. Why did I choose the <a href="http://indianapolismarathon.com/index.html" target="_blank">Indianapolis Marathon</a>? There are a few reasons. With eleven marathons under my belt (in hopes of completing 50), I have nearly exhausted all of my "driveable" options. Thus, most races are going to require flying. Even though all of Chasen's work travel makes frequent flyer miles semi-abundant, it's unrealistic for us all to go to each race; that would use up all of the miles and boost the cost of each trip at least two-fold, if not more. Thus, I go it alone. With that in mind, and a lack of vacation days, I needed to pick a destination that Chasen wouldn't mind missing (and that's about as nicely as I can put it). Indy fit the time frame, wasn't an enormous race, was seemingly flat, and had a pretty decent medal. You know me -- it's all about the medal! </div>
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Just as I did for the <a href="http://www.irunformylife.blogspot.com/2013/05/wisconsin-marathon.html" target="_blank">Wisconsin Marathon</a> back in May, I trained using my own ad hoc version of a <a href="http://www.crossfitendurance.com/" target="_blank">CrossFit Endurance</a> plan. I gave it all I had, and I felt prepared. The only difference was my "problem ankle" began to rear its ugly head a few weeks prior. I simply added more of a taper to give it a rest. </div>
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I arrived in Indy with no problems. Soon thereafter I headed to the expo. I was thrilled to receive a long sleeve, hunter green tech shirt! I've never had a shirt of this color before.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4LXcdkgoc9fOVzS90sgmsnCgbnviJJoCTRJdpm1VVNKdcd6ovBnAzznf3Yy2tKf2Wlg7DQD79F07jvrBMf7Ogm9EwVgmYG5xK7VG9MdDejI_S_tmdoUDGV33vEmOBSonWR06Q/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4LXcdkgoc9fOVzS90sgmsnCgbnviJJoCTRJdpm1VVNKdcd6ovBnAzznf3Yy2tKf2Wlg7DQD79F07jvrBMf7Ogm9EwVgmYG5xK7VG9MdDejI_S_tmdoUDGV33vEmOBSonWR06Q/s320/photo+1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>The Indy foliage is proudly displayed. I had high hopes of gorgeous scenery.</i></div>
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I uncharacteristically signed up for the pre-race pasta party. It was cheap, and I thought it'd be fun to eat and chat with some other runners. Well, that didn't happen. It was restaurant style, so I was seated alone. The food was so-so. I would have been better off just going to a restaurant of my choosing, like I normally do. Lesson learned.</div>
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I got plenty of sleep that night, as pre-race sleep goes. I had a good, clean breakfast of sliced turkey, sweet potato, and banana. The next thing I knew I had found a parking spot less than a block from my starting corral. Sounds great, right? It should except... it was raining. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKhWUpk6Cf9pbGLx2KlkTVO_-QMz1WhNHr6dEFVz21nIi6hioRzvdmZFKPdnauCEqbqIL1sbtRoaeVLbQT7BIynvWDmmeGm7ElOeoKemdoxqdSTaSsOc1UJ_Mbtew4k9AIYfU6/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKhWUpk6Cf9pbGLx2KlkTVO_-QMz1WhNHr6dEFVz21nIi6hioRzvdmZFKPdnauCEqbqIL1sbtRoaeVLbQT7BIynvWDmmeGm7ElOeoKemdoxqdSTaSsOc1UJ_Mbtew4k9AIYfU6/s320/photo+2.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Here I am just before the race started. Bundled up and ready to get after it!</i></div>
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It rained for MILES. Theoretically, a light rain doesn't sound too bad. However, a light rain is capable of quickly soaking you to the bone, especially your feet. Not zesty! My ears stayed dry and warm, thanks to my ear muffs. My head/hair was OK, as well as upper body, for the most part. But still... the rain stinks. When you can feel the water squishing in your shoes, it's just not a good thing. </div>
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Like most races, the first mile or two was very congested. I had to run a bit faster than I really wanted to, but it was alright. From a speed and body standpoint, the first eight miles were good. I was feeling fine and doing well. The course weaved in and out of <a href="http://www.in.gov/dnr/parklake/2982.htm" target="_blank">Fort Harrison State Park</a>. It was run on city streets, paved park roads, paved trails, and even through grass and mud at times. It ran the gamut! The promised, prized "fall foliage" was not that impressive, in my opinion. For one thing, I was soaking wet, so my views are a bit tarnished. For another thing, if you've ever visited Northwest Arkansas (or even New England) in the fall, nothing else will ever compare. It was relatively flat; I only remember experiencing one hill. </div>
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Water stops were abundant. Most were staffed by young men in military attire. They were very polite! I was disappointed by the lack of food present; I'm used to seeing banana halves, potato chips, candy, etc. from time to time along a good course. Obviously I come prepared with Gu, but I enjoy those little extras. There were zero. Also missing was spectators. Once we left the starting area, I honestly don't remember seeing even one spectator. We all know how much some cheering can help out during a race.</div>
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After mile 8, sadly, my body begin to shut down. <i>Everything</i> was hurting me: both hips, my lower back, both feet, both knees... the list goes on. It was painful. Normally, as of late, I'm happy to cross the halfway mat. Not only is it a "glass half full" milestone, but the crowd of runners really thins out, as the halfers are heading toward their finish line. This time, however, it was more like "Dang, I'm only halfway done and I feel like death." Wall: 1, Susan: 0. Not good!</div>
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There's really no choice to be made at this point. Quitting is NOT an option, even though my body desperately wants to. I just can't. I didn't go all the way to Indiana to come home empty-handed. </div>
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[Note: If there was a legitimate medical reason to quit, I believe I would... if a course official insisted, even after I'd argued to the death with them.] </div>
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As I said before, I have a lot wrapped up in these marathons and this 50-state goal. The travel and the expense it incurs is motivation enough to keep going. Plus, I just don't quit. I can't. I'd rather finish horizontally than throw in the towel and walk away upright. You can't go down without a fight!</div>
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So I forged ahead, mostly walking. Yes, for the whole second half. It. Was. Awful. I was really hating life. I called Chasen frequently for motivation and support. He informed me, I want you all to know, that I was tougher than him and he knew I could and would do it! Woot!</div>
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At around mile 20 the sweeper van drove by and told me that if I didn't somehow speed up, he'd have to pick me up due to the traffic. I boldly said "NO! You will NOT. I will keep going." Again, I didn't go all the way to Indiana to end up on the sweeper van. He said something about making up the mile at the end, but I refused to listen to that drivel.</div>
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Shortly thereafter, coming in the opposite direction during an out-and-back portion of the course, I saw three more ladies. One had white hair and I couldn't help but say to her "Ma'am, if you don't mind me asking, how old are you, because you're my hero!" She was 73, named Judy, and power walking her way through the rain and everything else. Wow. And she wasn't far behind me! I thought one of the other girls with her, Mona, might have special needs. As if I wasn't having a bad enough day as it was, I was about to be overtaken by someone 35 years my senior and someone who seemed to not walk like most people. That's humbling. On the other hand, I was so hobbled that I probably wasn't walking all that normally, either. Sorry, Mona!</div>
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The next thing I knew, the sweeper drove by me with Judy and the other two inside. I was still trying to keep on putting one foot in front of the other. I was fighting back the tears, and I have never cried while running (or, in this case, walking). Never. It was awful. I felt in danger of not meeting the official 7-hour cutoff time, and I had no more energy to put forth. Never in my wildest dreams did I fear a 7-hour time limit. </div>
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He let them out just a short distance in front of me. It had happened. Even though the van had assisted, I was passed by a 73-year-old woman. I thought <i>surely</i> I could catch up and pass her, especially with forcing myself to run a tiny bit. But Judy just kept on and soon she was out of sight. That's when an angel, Mary, caught up to me and said "You're doing great!" She was just out for a leisurely run, i.e. not part of the race. Mary insisted on walking with me until I was officially back in the state park area, closer to the finish line. We didn't talk much, but she kept me moving forward. I still felt like death, but at least I wasn't alone. At mile 24 we hugged and she turned back.</div>
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I made it to mile 25, which was manned by a gentleman who looked like Uncle Jesse from the Dukes of Hazzard. He was smoking a pipe and said, cheerily, "One more mile to go! You can't quit now." Bless his heart. </div>
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Then, it happened. The sweeper van pulled up beside me. Mona was already in there. The driver held out his hand and said "You HAVE to get on." I needed his hand, because I honestly couldn't step up in there under my own steam. The tears began to flow. I said "What's going to happen now?" He assured me that I could finish; I'd just have to make up some distance first. The tears continued. I felt so defeated. Although, honestly, it was nice to sit down, even though it was only for about a quarter of a mile, I swear. </div>
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He dropped us off with the finish line in sight. Mona and I were given two different paths to run. Somehow hers was much shorter, which didn't make ANY sense since she had been on the van twice. Even though my path was longer, I was soooooo over it that I dug deep and started to actually run. I managed to pass her. And I made it to the finish line. Praise the Lord! They were putting everything away, but four volunteers or so were there cheering like crazy for me. It was awesome and I appreciated it greatly. Realistically, they were probably just happy to be nearly done with their wet job. But I appreciated their effort none the less. </div>
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I got my medal and was handed some food. I was about to walk away, but then I saw Mona nearly to the finish line. So I joined right in and gave it all I had cheering her in. After all, she was going through as rough a day as me, if not rougher. I congratulated her and then went to find the sweeper man. I thanked him and hugged him. He even took my photo for me. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK8HWDxEFlUpi3lvLK2Sgc6P8a2rU2Neav-fadVDjoPe3yccs6hkgN0amCV6NK1A_e4xx762yLL_9IRr_GGtDdvsCp1v_PIRWl1zutmmCJ8ShcHAt-VGU9L-EWNfYh0XJKFbA_/s1600/photo+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK8HWDxEFlUpi3lvLK2Sgc6P8a2rU2Neav-fadVDjoPe3yccs6hkgN0amCV6NK1A_e4xx762yLL_9IRr_GGtDdvsCp1v_PIRWl1zutmmCJ8ShcHAt-VGU9L-EWNfYh0XJKFbA_/s320/photo+3.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>This is what kept me in the game.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghjhGD-ZFpIrt0WxLFCLHLu9-_dxQCoLEIOo7msuT95t1jKc3T-vfOeYLQdjAHyS_6V9KBPQ4Zl_HVxZQpgn6-gimEaFDFOBQaH-qCV-alwIWUMnjs3b-QKAGXHtzqzZWle1Wr/s1600/photo+4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghjhGD-ZFpIrt0WxLFCLHLu9-_dxQCoLEIOo7msuT95t1jKc3T-vfOeYLQdjAHyS_6V9KBPQ4Zl_HVxZQpgn6-gimEaFDFOBQaH-qCV-alwIWUMnjs3b-QKAGXHtzqzZWle1Wr/s320/photo+4.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>See, I did it! The medal has a leaf and a shoe with wings.</i></div>
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Even though I parked close, it felt like an eternity to walk back to my rental car. I sat there for a long time. I called Chasen, took off most of my gear, and ate. Once I finally got going, I saw poor ole Mona walking slowly down the main road. I made a u-turn, opened the window, and said "Get in, Mona! Let me drive you to your car." She did, and it was a good thing because she was parked FAR away. We commiserated, and that was truly nice. She didn't have special needs, by the way. Like me, she was having a terrible day. Again, sorry for making such a judgement.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhznO7olLE_qoroq8tnBEnKjdCHJePsEm1h2_tWPj9ASVfIgmATDnSNoxA44QKx9PJhTnRHxhkd8u1zJbEZtdbqvS8w72dkagitc7oHm3duv38l5-2o9ymjg4S8afiNICxZO4lt/s1600/photo+5.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhznO7olLE_qoroq8tnBEnKjdCHJePsEm1h2_tWPj9ASVfIgmATDnSNoxA44QKx9PJhTnRHxhkd8u1zJbEZtdbqvS8w72dkagitc7oHm3duv38l5-2o9ymjg4S8afiNICxZO4lt/s320/photo+5.PNG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>I saw this on Twitter today and thought it was mighty appropriate for Mona and I.</i></div>
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As it turned out, I finished #614 out of 615 marathoners. Mona, of course, was #615. I've had to try to explain "what happened" to lots of non-runners. The simple answer is... you can't win 'em all. We just have bad days sometimes. Sometimes the stars align and I'm on cloud nine, regardless of finishing time, because I feel great. Other times I feel less wonderful, yet finish faster. This time, however, neither time nor physical well-being was on my side. I won't let it get me down because I know better days are ahead. After all, life is a roller coaster.</div>
Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516566884075321281noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32790015.post-33224403591331959872013-08-19T15:59:00.001-05:002013-08-20T12:08:42.730-05:00Isaac's LAST First Day of Mother's Day Out<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
My little 8 lb 5 oz baby boy is already 4 1/2 years old. Today marked another milestone: his last "first day of pre-K." That's right, one more year until kindergarten. Already! He began his final year of Mother's Day Out today. His true <a href="http://www.irunformylife.blogspot.com/2010/09/mothers-day-out.html" target="_blank">first day</a> seems like just like yesterday. Oh how little he was!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4FZSRxaEnfyGxA2HRnyzXyQcMgS96x8iHX8B8JwNvxTS7ob2iZXCmKmuLrHmIyFI7jQAdaDBTkxYu4J54Oc4u0lFShpkD7PcPEGwQzqdqd2NMo2WEL82YG4T0HPgoKmGuwU4-/s1600/13-0819Isaac+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4FZSRxaEnfyGxA2HRnyzXyQcMgS96x8iHX8B8JwNvxTS7ob2iZXCmKmuLrHmIyFI7jQAdaDBTkxYu4J54Oc4u0lFShpkD7PcPEGwQzqdqd2NMo2WEL82YG4T0HPgoKmGuwU4-/s320/13-0819Isaac+001.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>In his cool, retro lunch box I taped some photo box pictures of our family.</i></div>
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For his lunch he requested peanuts, walnuts, an orange, olives, and some grapes. I also included a boiled egg and his juice/water.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk-B01DSz_yckiuN1MjQAMtG2YzlNzgRhd0DcNd6Awx90jL97Y_5RoAthz77EsqdhllJgtKS8DqGSFNLN49qTmjW7WYZ4miDpCkYU0YfZIyGUM3B55jP42npcpKfvTbDfL557w/s1600/13-0819Isaac+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk-B01DSz_yckiuN1MjQAMtG2YzlNzgRhd0DcNd6Awx90jL97Y_5RoAthz77EsqdhllJgtKS8DqGSFNLN49qTmjW7WYZ4miDpCkYU0YfZIyGUM3B55jP42npcpKfvTbDfL557w/s320/13-0819Isaac+002.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>This big guy is 43.75" tall already.</i> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsnEvoHB2xjU0gq7xCixzZRbDEGKN12jSTkqB480l5PdKCFgy7035T6indd7bE6zrZwdWcA1uuwDCIYg4TJcvTyu_5lsVH-M0zV1YZbsC4gds88Eo9hb4Sp_Sjdkt9pF5oRL55/s1600/13-0819Isaac+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsnEvoHB2xjU0gq7xCixzZRbDEGKN12jSTkqB480l5PdKCFgy7035T6indd7bE6zrZwdWcA1uuwDCIYg4TJcvTyu_5lsVH-M0zV1YZbsC4gds88Eo9hb4Sp_Sjdkt9pF5oRL55/s320/13-0819Isaac+003.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>I love him to pieces.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2HNIbw0VQXOx1O5nM3z-6RXXzWXDZZyeffJY4_9ahXiTkNDJXzW4hG05W6DzUh0NljAI1sH4usMViH1RJTTh45GeW2EIjkBnDDdRiLS2iF1f7WAyhojFuTaEQQ4xPY5pro8tj/s1600/13-0819Isaac+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2HNIbw0VQXOx1O5nM3z-6RXXzWXDZZyeffJY4_9ahXiTkNDJXzW4hG05W6DzUh0NljAI1sH4usMViH1RJTTh45GeW2EIjkBnDDdRiLS2iF1f7WAyhojFuTaEQQ4xPY5pro8tj/s320/13-0819Isaac+004.JPG" width="201" /></a></div>
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<i>What a hunk!</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcGMVivwaryqBL3Ta1GOOrAwPEFXN7Dt39KQfFJQb6s31ocx68QE5Om8vPXpG3MZxymIDkXQ_YLPFUlDZS3WL-843qHK-bUx1GVG2ZluZbaXjmFCYKjYRKcu9F8dj-gkEbUumy/s1600/13-0819Isaac+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcGMVivwaryqBL3Ta1GOOrAwPEFXN7Dt39KQfFJQb6s31ocx68QE5Om8vPXpG3MZxymIDkXQ_YLPFUlDZS3WL-843qHK-bUx1GVG2ZluZbaXjmFCYKjYRKcu9F8dj-gkEbUumy/s320/13-0819Isaac+005.JPG" width="215" /></a></div>
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<i>He sports his "running shoes" just like Mommy's. :-)</i></div>
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We had the chance to meet his teachers at an Open House last week. So we knew exactly where to go and who all to expect. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_KYS-JxfWv-qx80NOlI4lKi15lgWqJhdR3Sp5ohyjP3mvVgS6XAuex9qEfxxQTu0DwcRwaVlgGulh7ck6XQ58KIspEgpIBAKmeVhmC7BdN2zLsqU-Qif57w5EOAt9MuqRWvL0/s1600/13-0819Isaac+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_KYS-JxfWv-qx80NOlI4lKi15lgWqJhdR3Sp5ohyjP3mvVgS6XAuex9qEfxxQTu0DwcRwaVlgGulh7ck6XQ58KIspEgpIBAKmeVhmC7BdN2zLsqU-Qif57w5EOAt9MuqRWvL0/s320/13-0819Isaac+006.JPG" width="217" /></a></div>
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<i>This definitely looks like a "big kid" classroom to me. Sniff, sniff.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiofpsqlyEGbd_Y1sMeVwEY72QLE6JpjrUDJgFDCWR6eAnpeHRssjxnbVuY3u0N_d2vZNwj3e8vna_kFxyWeVuN-HRPPiv6VBiy6MFSPaTyNv2AeTHyMU5K_B6Z8iZYiAJG6O-L/s1600/13-0819Isaac+007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiofpsqlyEGbd_Y1sMeVwEY72QLE6JpjrUDJgFDCWR6eAnpeHRssjxnbVuY3u0N_d2vZNwj3e8vna_kFxyWeVuN-HRPPiv6VBiy6MFSPaTyNv2AeTHyMU5K_B6Z8iZYiAJG6O-L/s320/13-0819Isaac+007.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>There are 12 kids in his class (6 and 6). He knows a lot of them already.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitTUEAOax962xg2Ruga6bRBuhlMG8AMWCxRGrKdjAjyjLUyCqsQGrtBRWGZ4ej-8kHSvbSzZpQkI-roRVNesmMPsCuCR9qN5-1WUCHroS0dmATpGXRemWIs3wXli-XVSp65pby/s1600/13-0819Isaac+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitTUEAOax962xg2Ruga6bRBuhlMG8AMWCxRGrKdjAjyjLUyCqsQGrtBRWGZ4ej-8kHSvbSzZpQkI-roRVNesmMPsCuCR9qN5-1WUCHroS0dmATpGXRemWIs3wXli-XVSp65pby/s320/13-0819Isaac+008.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>He immediately settled in and began playing when I dropped him off.</i></div>
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Summer flew by, but at the same time it felt very long. I know Isaac is ready to get back to a normal, structured schedule. He'll be at MDO for twenty hours per week, and I'll be on my own. Wish us luck!</div>
Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516566884075321281noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32790015.post-84066808752274081162013-06-08T00:59:00.001-05:002013-06-08T00:59:53.433-05:00Swimming Lessons 2013<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'm proud to announce that Isaac has finished up another week of swimming lessons. He took this same week long class <a href="http://www.irunformylife.blogspot.com/2012/06/swimming-lessons.html" target="_blank">last summer</a>, and boy has he improved! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7_IODBv5hPohfcyqcTwIsQfuhyphenhyphenFXmlETreolNa6_Tcxoam269tBAgX6biUOE6cefq7vLtysW06RhcloTPuilOdkJyW5B0VH8-B0PL2q1B7KQKGXTP-rmyjgPsuQ6K2nUia428/s1600/13-0607Isaac+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7_IODBv5hPohfcyqcTwIsQfuhyphenhyphenFXmlETreolNa6_Tcxoam269tBAgX6biUOE6cefq7vLtysW06RhcloTPuilOdkJyW5B0VH8-B0PL2q1B7KQKGXTP-rmyjgPsuQ6K2nUia428/s320/13-0607Isaac+001.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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<i>Each day this week, M-F, I'd drop him off for an hour with Coach Melissa.</i></div>
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He has loved it, that's for sure. I got a good report each day after class. For the last twenty minutes of the last class, the parents get to come and watch. Every child has the opportunity to show off their new skills.</div>
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<i>When Chasen and I arrived, there sat six eager swimmers (two were absent).</i></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyJafJs4mIpH3f-VSSKcOFer9Q-0piuFl2gj90FxFwXZsd1tttNlGb1MbV0I1jtFUDUz0KJUzBDBRs' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<i>First he used some kickboards.</i></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyzzdnyVBmuCI1JC0_MQUHfEiduK91_KK5omtdqPYDm5fsEiK5Rtflb7KLnS7daYwI_RlHMoWGULbo' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<i>Next he swim from Melissa to Cady, the teenage helper, and then back to Melissa. </i></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxaREtpB_EDHAFYlbc2EiO0KTd-cPwbvpbO2zQ0sQTbjqDvof0AZhNisi5DsnVbd7l77s3vSKnae-0' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<i>He floated on his back for ten seconds.</i></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzemw8KUW5RRKLrS0DtUnEtv9fctIHABZz1Mv7Gb8vm26edJv52HguNrZ0gDHQ5C1bIvbbbkmhv-q4' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<i>This is my favorite: the big swim! Notice him saying "Hi Mommy!" as he walks past me. </i></div>
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<i>After all was said and done, they each got to do a "victory lap."</i></div>
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I think it is absolutely incredible what can be learned/taught in five hours. And I know for a fact that these skills are valuable, because of an incident that happened last week. A dear friend took Isaac, along with her own children, to a pool. My little daredevil slipped away and jumped right into the deep end! While it scared my friend to death, and caused all three lifeguards to spring into action, Isaac was able to keep his head above water and use his arms to stay afloat. Phew - that was a close call! The first thing I thought when I got over the shock of what he put my friend through was "thank heaven for those swimming lessons!" Thank you, Coach Melissa.</div>
Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516566884075321281noreply@blogger.com3