News!

I feel narcissistic writing this post. It may be because it's a whole lot of words that are almost all about me. Probably, I'm still feeling guilty for having this thought since not posting in over 2 years, "My newer friends don't even know what a good writer I am!" My motives for writing this are not all self-centered, though. I genuinely believe that it's important for me to explain the change I'm making. First, though, let me tell you what's happened since I last wrote on this site. No. There is too much. Let me sum up.

• We moved to a wonderful new neighborhood that was just what we had in mind when we were house shopping. Now we have 4 times the number of bathrooms we used to. Other than having 4 times zero maids to help with the cleaning, it's all dreamy.
• The kids got bigger and smarter. 

This little Cupcake just turned 5

• 

  Our Rip Claw is in double digits! (The bike only lasted a day)

• We adopted a cat! Minerva is loved so dearly, we've even become the weirdos (I can say it because we're included) who walk their cats.
  

• I've continued to work as a substitute teacher, and I'm pretty good at it. I know being the best substitute teacher is kinda like being the best fantasy football player- great! Nobody cares!- but it means I get to work whenever I want and the schedule flexibility is excellent. 

• Running has continued with some ups and downs, some injuries, recoveries, a medal here or there, successes and failures. I still love pounding out the miles, even though I haven't achieved anything extraordinary...

  

  ...unlike these dear friends and family members who ran the Boston Marathon this year

  
  Of course, the past couple of years haven't been all sunshine and roses, but things are generally excellent 'round here. 

There, now that you're caught up and have fallen (back) in love with my blog, it's time for the reason that drove me to break out the rusty old typing fingers here: I'm going to school to become a paralegal. What's that? You're slightly taken aback but generally feel like that announcement was anticlimactic? Let me try to change your mind. See, it all started at book club. 

My (I can call it mine because I started it) book club began about 7 years ago. We take turns selecting books to read, and discuss them while stuffing ourselves with scrumptious snacks. We have a pretty amazing mix of ladies, and our book choices are diverse and (usually) excellent. "The Count of Monte Cristo" was my personal favorite novel and everyone (yes, you too) should read it. "The Omnivore's Dilemma" was my most recent choice, and reading it changed my eating habits for the better. 

If you've read "The Omnivore's Dilemma," the chocolate souffle/McDonald's fries combo makes sense.

The Count's quote made it onto my shelf of favorites.

It was this book, though, that changed not just my habits or the order of my favorite novels, but life as I live: Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson. Yes, that link takes you to Amazon so you can go ahead and buy it right now. On the website for the foundation the author started years ago, the book is described as follows: "A powerful true story about the potential for mercy to redeem us, and a clarion call to fix our broken system of justice..." (I linked the definition for that term because I couldn't have given it to you without looking it up myself.)

I don't usually consider myself to be super suggestible or gullible. I certainly can't remember any other time when a book changed the course of my life. When I watched Making a Murderer , for example, I understood that there was more to the story than viewers were shown. I know that the show was edited to be entertaining and provocative, so even though it made me lose some faith in our justice system, I made myself remember that I was really presented with just one side of the story. 

After reading "Just Mercy", though, I came to understand the brokenness of our justice system is not simply a matter of opinion. It is a matter of fact that we can choose to see or remain blind to. The truth is, justice in our country is not blind. 

Somehow, she can still see color through that blindfold.

Criminals get away with it. Innocent people go to jail. People with dark skin are treated differently than those who are white. Poor people are taken advantage of. Children live in prisons for the rest of their lives after mistakes that they would almost certainly never make as adults. People with mental illness are abused and imprisoned instead of being treated or hospitalized. At the root of our justice system we don't find balance or impartiality; we find bias, greed, and sometimes mind-blowing unfairness.  

I don't expect to become The Paralegal who Fixes Everything (Although if that is what I become, I would like a cooler, superheroish name. Princess of Justice. The Everything Fixer [who is pretty besides]. Sup-arale-Gal. We can work on it.). I don't presume that I'll ever truly fix anything that has been so broken about our legal system since its inception. I know, though, that I cannot turn away from the horror. I cannot step over the screaming, seething, hideous mess of wrongness and go on as if it's not there. Even realizing that I cannot name a single paralegal who has ever done anything memorable, I know for sure that I have to be part of the solution. I have to do everything within my power to right the wrongs.

So, at the ripe old age of closer-to-40-than-30, holding my 13-year-old, unused Bachelor's degree, driving my newish car away from the dream home that I own with my dream man, leaving my sweet, talented children in the care of others, I will go to school. I mention my age, home, etc. because when I went on campus to purchase my books ($680! Ouch!) and get my ID card, I realized how very different I am from the typical state college student. It makes me nervous to think about being the oldest in class. Or the only mom. Or the only one who has no idea how to dress like an adult who is in college and will constantly feel the need to justify her clothing choices to random strangers. Because of my previous college experience, I have met a lot of the requirements for graduating with an A.S. degree in Legal Studies, and I should be finished by this time next year. After that, I would like to work for a non-profit law office, offering help to those who can't afford to buy their way out of legal trouble. I want to assure you that I'll let you know how it goes, but in all honesty, you may have to wait for news of the crowning of Queen Paralegal after I do my world changing stuff. Want to help the cause without going the career/life change route? Donate to the Equal Justice Initiative.  Or at least, wish me luck with writing WAY more often than once every 2.5 years.

Student discounts on ice cream and tacos? Yes, please!

Seriously, though. What do grown-ups who aren't the teacher wear to school?

Brownies, Cheesecake, & Homemade Ice Cream

These three things have more in common than being delicious desserts.  For one, I'm really good at making all three.  I'm not usually one to brag, except when it comes to my kids and my desserts.  For another thing, this post is not about any of these three items.  Ha ha!  It was a trick!  I know how you non-runners operate, all, "Oh, great, she wrote another post about running.  I think the dryer just buzzed.  I'd better go fold laundry."  

I feel like a meaniac (combination maniac and meanie; also 6 y.o.'s favorite made-up insult to throw at his cousins) for posting such pictures and then giving race recaps instead of recipes, but I'm okay with being called such a thing.





Race #12- Blazin' The Trail 5k, March 9, 2013
               Superlative
As the sport of running grows in popularity, the number of available races in which to run on any given weekend is also increasing.  It seems like the 5k race is the new chocolate bar sale for non-profit organizations.  I was excited to learn that my son's school was up in the front of the bandwagon, and had decided to put on a race to benefit the physical education department.  Even more exciting was that they were using my friend's new race management company!  The race was less than a week after my second half-marathon, so I was not expecting to be in record-setting shape, and registered for it without even really expecting to run.  I figured I would volunteer for sure, run if I felt like it, and be okay with my time no matter what because I would be supporting my son's school.

Then, then 5 y.o. (Then 5 y.o. then?  Then, now 6 y.o.?  You decide.) made an announcement that he was going to run the 5k, also.  He had recently run a mile in just over 13 minutes, and really loved the whole racing deal, but had never come close to running 3.1 miles.  Husband and I talked it over and decided to let him run it after we set some ground rules.  We made sure 5 y.o. knew that it was not just okay for him to change his mind mid-race, or to stop running if he felt too tired, we would be very upset if he didn't let us know that he couldn't finish.  We explained to him that running that distance is hard, and that many people can't do it at all, let alone do it before their first double-digit birthday.  We also let him know that we believed he could do it, and that we would happily help him reach his goal.  He paid the registration fee out of his own money, and I signed him up.  Immediately, I realized that running with him would make it a perfect race for me, too.

Race morning dawned clear and cold (in the mid-40s), and I arrived at the school early to help with packet pick-up and registration, which went really smoothly for an inaugural event.  Husband arrived a bit later with the kids, and soon more family members arrived- some to cheer, some to run.  The Galloway racing method is a run-walk-run deallio that is gaining a lot of popularity among new runners, especially.  We had decided to put it to work for 5 y.o.'s race, and I had set my Garmin to alert us to run for 2 minutes, walk for 1.

I strapped my pretty, pink watch onto my son's wrist, and we were off.  He amazed me the whole time.  He remembered all of our advice, about not going out too fast at the start, about not whining when people passed us, about water stop etiquette, about listening to his body- I teared up with pride a couple of times, even.  On two occasions, he started walking about a minute before the watch indicated that it was time to do so.  All the other times, he followed the beeps religiously; running hard for 2 minutes, slowing to an easy recovery walk for 1 minute.  When the finish line was in sight, we let him know that, "Yes!  Now you can do a sprint!" and off he shot.  He placed 10th out of 20 boys aged 9 and under, and was the youngest one to run the 5k.  A few minutes after we finished, he joined in the couple-hundred-meter kid's run and did very well in that, too.

Finisher's medal for the kid's run (made by the school's art department- cool, huh?) and Youngest Runner medal that may or may not have been a planned award.  Maybe it's cool to have your aunt and your mom's friend be the race organizers.

He was the cutest and the youngest, and we were the proudest of parents.  With all those -ests, you can be sure he was a pretty happy kid.  26 years sooner than either of his parents ran a 5k, and in a far-from-shabby time frame, too?  Yep.  Probably the happiest kid I saw all day.

Result: 45:44

Race #13- Victoria Park 10k, March 16, 2013
            Hazy

I keep forgetting that I ran this race.  I'm not sure if it's because it wasn't a comeback race, an out-of-the-country race, or a personal record setting race...er.  Wait.  I did set a P.R. for that distance.  Hm.  Maybe I just run too many races, and can't keep all of them in my head?

My sister and brother-in-law registered Husband and I for this race as part of our Christmas gifts.  Is that weird, to give races as gifts?  We didn't think so, but it probably isn't the most common gift, is it?  Because of the problems I had been having with my IT band and all the knee pain, I hadn't exactly trained for this race, and my only goal was to finish without pain or further injury.

Merry Christmas!  Have some cavities!

Victoria Park is a neighborhood in a nearby city, and since our running group meets there on a regular basis, I was quite familiar with the roads.  There has been a race there for the past several years, but this year, they added the 10k distance for the first time.  Unfortunately, they had us run the 5k loop twice rather than coming up with a unique 6.2 mile course.  I'll tell you, it's not my favorite thing to run past the finish line and not be done running.

There were definitely a few notable pluses about this race:

• I was either related to or friends with about 40% of the racers.
• My sister and a friend of ours each earned medals in the 5k.
• My dad, brother-in-law, and his brother each earned medals in the 10k.
• Pancake breakfast.  Not that I ate anything, but pancakes always make 6 y.o. happy.
• No pain!
• Good music!  I had made a fabulous playlist the night before my half-marathon a few weeks earlier, but didn't actually add it to my iPod (doh!).  This race was the first time I was able to enjoy my perfect running song selections, and I definitely deserved my self-congratulations for choosing such great music.  My singing along might have slowed me down by a few seconds, though.
• Oh yeah, and I shaved more than 2 minutes off my previous 10k race time.  That's pretty good.

Result: 55:36 (4th in Age Group)

Race #14- A Mile For Boston, May 11, 2013

           The Final Mile

The Boston Marathon was memorable this year for more of us than usual.  Thankfully, all the people I knew who were spectating or racing came back safe and sound.  

Following a tragedy like the deaths at the Boston Marathon, most people want to do something--anything--to help.  The race director/running group president/Boston Marathoner friend of mine understood that desire and changed this 1-mile race from just a regular ol' race to a charity fundraiser benefiting the family of Martin Richard, the 8-year-old boy who was killed in the blast.  With nearly 200 runners registered and lots of extra t-shirts and such sold, the race generated a pretty hefty sum to give to the Richard family (I'm not sure how much, exactly, but it was a lot!)

I'm glad I was able to participate, and it was a fun race, despite the lingering sadness of the tragic events.  But... The course was actually 1.07 miles, according to my Garmin (and other folks' watches, too).  In a race that short, that near-tenth can make a big difference.  When my watch beeped at the real mile mark, my time was 20 seconds faster than in the 1 mile race I ran last September.  However, the posted, official result showed the same finishing time for both races.  Just so, you know, you know.  I'm faster now than then.

That was my final racing mile from 8/2012-5/2013!  Can you believe it?  The race recaps are over(ish.  For now.)!

Result: 7:47.6

Today's advice is a bit like the old standby re: book judging and covers.  Don't judge a blog by its title.  Unless, of course, its a really good title on my blog that makes you want to read the post and all the archived ramblings writings.  While we're (sorta) on the subject, I'll tell you my opinion-- it's perfectly fine to judge a book by its cover.  Or at least, by the title and the vibe.  And now that we're totally on the subject--

Cool cover, great book.  Zero bias.  Okay, some bias.

You should all read this book by my aunt, Sue Perry.  Cover art by my cousin.  Judge away!

What's your favorite fundraiser?  Bake sale?  Magazine subscriptions?  Candles?

Be honest.  You're a little bit sad about the end of the race recaps, aren't you?  

Mission: Impossible

I've got to say something about it, even though I feel like I don't have the right words.  Horrible.  Tragic.  Sickening.  Maddening.  Scary.  Motivating.  Unifying.  Gut-wrenching.  Nothing new, I know.  I was thinking that I needed to know more details about the who, how, and why before I could write about it, but then I realized that I kind-of already have those answers.

Who?  A coward.  Someone sick, and I mean that in the most literal way.  Probably, he (in my head, he's definitely a he, not a she or a they) isn't the most hateful person you would ever meet.  He's never picketed outside of a sporting goods store or worn a sandwich board condemning runners at a race.  He's probably never even been in a fight.  I doubt he pointed fingers at the race directors or wrote letters or made angry phone calls to protest the running of the marathon.  He's too cowardly for all of those things, I think.  Instead, he stewed and seethed and plotted against the physical representation of  his nemeses- power, strength, stamina, hard work, accomplishment, joy and unity.  The goodness that is evident when watching runners at a marathon, he can't find within himself.  He has probably never had people- strangers or loved ones- cheer for him.  He has probably never had to dig deep within his soul to find the strength to overcome pain, fatigue, and mental anguish to finish what is impossible for the majority of people on the planet.  And he made the rest of us suffer for his inadequacies.

How?  If someone offered me money, I'm quite certain that I could make a bomb.  (Please read the rest of my blog for context clues, Big Brother and airport security folks, and know that I wouldn't do it).  There are how-to videos on you tube, right?  Or is that just on how to cook meth?  I couldn't tell you right now, this minute, how to do it, but I think anyone with enough desire and time could do it.  I hate hearing these words, and I am a tiny bit disgusted with myself for typing them, but here goes: it could have been so much worse.  For the people injured, the families of those killed, I apologize, and I grieve.  But I think we can all agree that if the bomber had been more experienced or had been more determined to wreak havoc, he could have killed and hurt a whole lot more people.

Why?  Whatever the reason, it can't possibly make sense to us normal, healthy, sane individuals.  I won't say 'nonstop', but I've been thinking about this for a good portion of every hour since 3:ish on Monday, and I simply cannot come up with anything that would justify, even slightly, this action.  Was he trying to make a statement?  Well, nobody is going to agree with his point of view, now.  Was it political?  If so, it's seems counter-intuitive to protest against certain laws, regulations, or political figures with law-breaking actions that couldn't possible change anything for the better.  He accomplished hurt, pain, and destruction.  If I were to venture a guess, I would think that's pretty close to the definition of terrorism.  All of the "why" goes back to the "who".  He's sick, and his incapacity for normal human feelings has led him to terrorize.

For once, an all-over-facebook, fairly-sappy-messaged image that I felt the need to share.

I'm more proud than ever to be a runner.  Becoming a runner changed my life, and I'm far from able to qualify for the Boston Marathon.  I can say with confidence that as a community, runners are stronger, more unified, and tougher now than before.  And we were all pretty stinkin' strong, unified, and tough on Sunday, April 14.  We'll remember the victims whose lives were cut short, and we'll do all that we can to help their families, and the injured, to recover.  He scared us, yes.  Saddened us, to the core.  But stopped us?  Impossible.

Security!

Gimme an 'R'!  Gimme an 'A'!  Gimme a 'C'!  Gimme an 'E'!  Now put 'em all together and re-CAP!  Re-CAP!  Woooooooo! Insert high jumps, splits, and pom-pom shaking here.

Race #10- 26.2 With Donna (a.k.a. The National Marathon to Finish Breast Cancer, a.k.a., The Donna) Marathon Relay, February 17, 2013
             Feelings and Numbness (If you don't have time to read two recaps of the same race, read my sister's, linked right there ^.  It's way good.  Really.)

You know, it's Spring like this that makes me recycle.  Maybe all those warnings about global warming are actually intended for us and not for our great-great-grandchildren.  All I know for sure is that I almost never complain about the weather, but I am so sick and tired of the cold, lately, that it seems all I do now is whine every time I go outside before 10:00 a.m.  (Yeah, the race was technically still during the winter, but it was a really cold winter for Florida.)

March 25, 2013, in Virginia.  Photo courtesy of Megan Connelly, used without permission.

And racing in the cold?  Well, it's not so bad.  But waiting outside to race in the cold?  Miserable.  Well, mostly.  Sorta.  Okay, if it hadn't been for my sis...  As it was, we got to wait together for her to begin her third marathon and me to lead off our relay team.

The Donna is held in Jacksonville, FL, which happens to be where my in-laws live.  Instead of paying for a hotel room, we were able to stay at my sis-in-law's apartment (thank you!), and were able to leave the children with them while Husband and I joined some friends from the running group for dinner (thanks!).  After the nightmarish time the night before my first half-marathon, it seemed wise to make every effort to get Baby to sleep comfortably.  To that end, we made a trip to Buy Buy Baby and purchased a special mattress that fits inside the pack-n-play, and an extra soft sheet made of the same material as her regular crib sheet.  Mom-in-law kindly laundered the new sheet (gracias!), and we set up the portable bed with crossed fingers. I rocked Baby to sleep, just like at home, held my breath, and laid her down.  She didn't wake up immediately!  About an hour later, I was ready for bed, too, and that's when she woke up.  Twice, I rocked her back to sleep, but both times she woke up as soon as I laid her in bed.  I resigned myself to another sleepless night, and laid down on the couch with her on my chest.  Husband covered us with a cozy blanket (merci beaucoup!), and I only woke up every hour or so when various body parts had fallen asleep and were numb.  As often happens, my discomfort was a blessing in disguise.  I had received a new phone from sis-in-law the day before (ever so grateful!) and did not set the alarm correctly.  I happened to wake up only 2 minutes after it should have gone off, and was able to get ready on time.  I left her apartment just before 5, with a full 4 hours of sleep in me, and zero caffeine.

As instructed by the brochure and website, my sis and I were at the start line 2 hours early, at 5:30 a.m.  The temperature was at the higher end of what had been predicted, and was just above freezing when we arrived.  Kim was the second runner on my relay team, and had also arrived extra early to board a shuttle bus to her exchange point.  We had a few minutes together near the gear check trucks, where there were several warming table/lantern/canopy things.  We then did our necessary in the too-cold-to-smell-bad port-o-lets, bid farewell to Kim, and made our way to the really wonderful Runner's Village, where we were offered free Dunkin' Donuts coffee, bagels, fruit, muffins, granola bars, juice, water, and admission into a giant, heated tent.  Again, my sis and I followed the instructions we had been given, and made our way out of the warmth, away from the coffee, and into our starting corral at 6:30.

The reflective stuff really works, eh?

Our race bibs were color coded by predicted finishing time, with the slower people in the corrals further from the start line.  When my sis registered for the marathon, she hadn't yet run that distance, so she predicted her finishing time to be much slower than it actually would end up being.  As a relay team, we were expecting to finish with the fasties, and so were given yellow (corral #1) bibs.  It was clear to us that she should have registered as a yellow, so we didn't feel bad at all about sneaking her into the yellow corral.  (And we would have gotten away with it, too, if it hadn't been for that pesky security guard!  More on that in a bit.)

Unfortunately for us, many many other runners did not follow the instructions.  Or something.  I don't know exactly why, but there were thousands of people still stuck in traffic when the race was supposed to start at 7:30.  And still, at 7:45.  They delayed the start time until 8:00, which I'm sure was best for the majority of the racers.  It's just hard to wrap a frozen brain around rational thoughts like that one.  My goodness, was it ever cold!

Still smiling = Before the first delay announcement.

Finally, the race began.  As the announcer was counting down to "GO", a very-serious-about-her-volunteer-work security guard stepped in front of my blue bibbed sister and told her to get out of line and go back to the blue corral.  She was brave and smart enough to refuse, and only had to endure 4 seconds of the security lady's nasty look before we crossed the starting line.

Just 8 days earlier, I had kept an average of 8:10/mile for 3.1 miles, so I was feeling really confident in my ability to do the same, or close to it, for my 6 mile leg of the marathon relay.  I may have said this before, but it bears repeating.  Confidence doesn't do the work for you.  Nor do happy thoughts, encouraging signs, or energetic crowds.  All of those things are helpful boosters, but make no mistake- in order to run fast, you have to run.  Fast.  This task is much easier to complete when your toes feel like toes, rather than large chunks of ice weighing down your shoes.  My first mile time was 8:41, and I still felt totally frozen.  My sis and I ran together for a couple of minutes between miles 1 & 2, but then she took off, and I wouldn't see her again until the finish line.  My second mile time was 8:45, and everything except my toes had thawed out.  The sun was shining, there were people cheering, I heard music playing, saw lots of pink balloons, streamers, and signs, and I was truly glad to be running for such an important cause.  Mile number three was 8:43, but the cold weather was about to take its toll.  I had recently learned that I experienced much less knee pain when I was running with proper posture and concentrating on where my feet were landing.  I had also figured out in my last race how helpful it was to breathe deeply.  Problem was, I still couldn't feel my feet to know where they were landing. I was also hunching over, bracing myself against the wind and cold.  And, each time I tried to breathe deeply (I couldn't close my eyes in this race, there were way too many people around), my lungs would burn and I'd start coughing.  I don't know how to spit, and when I take deep breaths in cold weather, I always feel like I need to.  Then, I feel like I'm choking or gagging, and it's not the greatest.  Mile 4 was slower than the previous 3, at 9:10.  Just after the 4th mile marker, my knee started screaming, and I couldn't ignore it.  I slowed to a walk for much of the 5th mile, and clocked it at 10:04.  My last mile was slightly easier.  My knee was still really hurting, but the crowds of cheering people were even more plentiful than they had been.  I saw a pair of women displaying their years of cancer survival on signs pinned to their backs.  I saw strangers holding signs thanking the runners for helping fight against breast cancer.  I thought about my mom, having been so brave through chemo and radiation and sickness and pain and hair loss and fear, and was grateful, as always, that she had beat breast cancer.  Finally, I heard someone shout my bib number just before I saw Kim, waiting to take the baton from me, and I was done!  My 6th mile time was 9:30, for a total of 54:something.

I managed to find Husband, MIL, and Baby really easily where they had parked a block away from the relay exchange point.  I let Baby munch on my medal for a bit, then nursed her in the warm car.  Not sure where her obsession with medals might have come from...

Baby and her Papa

Aunt Jenn

Big Brother

...those things don't run in families, do they?

I had Husband drop me off at the finish line area, left my jacket in the car (but remembered my mylar blanket, at least!), and waited for my teammates and sissy to finish.  The Finisher's Village was pretty awesome.  I got a free massage and some hot soup while I was waiting, and later took advantage of the free beer and samples of energy popsicles.  The only problem was that the FV was around a few corners and about 1/4 mile away from the actual finish line.  There was a huge screen set up so that family members could (supposedly) see their loved ones cross the line, but it was impossible to tell who I was looking at.  I couldn't even make out bib numbers or genders from the view on the screen.  I talked to Kim, who was with my brother-in-law and her husband (2 of our 3 other teammates) and learned that Jenn was on pace to meet her goal of finishing under 3:39:59.  I walked closer to the finish line, and was stopped by (can you even believe it?) the same way-too-self-important security guard from earlier.  She informed me that the area needed to be kept clear for the runners, and I would have to go the other direction.  I rolled my eyes as politely as possible, and stepped behind her.  She turned around and gestured for me to keep walking.  I did, until she turned back around.  I sneaked past her a few minutes later, and stood quietly, not blocking anyone's path or even standing close to anyone finishing the race.  She approached me again, and told me that I wasn't allowed to be there, or anywhere near there.
"I just need to see my sister cross the finish line!  She'll be here any minute!"
"You can see from the sidewalk back there."
"No, I can't see from there!"
"Well, you can't be here.  You have to keep moving."
Again, she followed me until I was safely away from any possibility of seeing the most proud and momentous accomplishment my sister had ever made.  At last, my brother-in-law and other teammates arrived, and I learned that there really is safety in numbers.  Nobody stopped us as we walked to the finish line.  After just a few minutes, when the clock had already struck 3:39:00, she came into view.  And, well, now I'm crying again.

Please enjoy this awkwardly posed picture while I grab a tissue.

She did it.  She qualified to run the Boston Marathon.  She has secured a spot for herself in a race that you have to earn your way into.  There is something so amazing, so inspiring, so phenomenal, about seeing someone accomplish a goal like that.  Add in the fact that I was watching my dear sister, oldest friend- someone who I had seen run her first marathon, and her second, who had inspired me to run and changed my life for the better, whom I knew had trained for months, and worked so hard, and well, now I'm crying again.

At some point, our last relay team member crossed the finish line, too.  My eyes were too full of tears to see, but we ended up in 11th place out of nearly 200 teams.  We had some pictures taken, shared some stories, complained about the cold (by this time, it was in the mid-40s), and I burst into tears several more times.  Eventually, I walked the mile to the shuttle bus that would take me back to where I had parked at the start line, and was able to compose myself a bit before I got behind the wheel to return to the rest of my family.  I cried again as I described her amazing finish to Husband and the in-laws, limped around on my still-sore knee, had some lunch, and home we went.

Result: Me- 6 miles in 54:xx
Bad Case de Runz (our actual team name)- 3:41:29
Jenn- 3:39:38 BQ BQ BQ BQ!

I'll repeat my advice for you today, in case you didn't see it earlier.  Check out my sister's blog.  You won't be sorry!  Oh, and you might want to grab a tissue.

Do you recycle, or can I blame you for the cold temperatures?

Been inspired, lately?