The state of my blisters...

There are three blisters on my feet. Two of them are on my left foot...one each side of my heel. The other is on the right foot...on the inside of my heel. They hurt unlike any blisters I have ever had. In fact, I still haven't drained all of the fluid out of them. Every time I drain them, another layer appears. I guess blisters that are formed over 13.1 miles take a while to drain...a while to heal.

The last time I blogged, I was for sure yesterday would be my demise. I was pretty sure there was no way I could move in a forward motion with my feet for 13.1 miles. I mean...13.1 miles is a really , REALLY long way. An almost unthinkable distance to cover by any other means but a vehicle.

Yesterday, when I crossed the finish line, after 3 hours, 36 minutes and 41 seconds of running, walking, pushing forward, I did die a certain death. A death of the thoughts of all the things I couldn't do, of all the things I wasn't capable of doing. As I crossed the line, those voices of doubt in my head closed their proverbial mouths. When I saw the finish line, after 13 miles of hills and pavement and mid-70 degree sun beating down on me, with my legs throbbing, my feet screaming for relief, I found the strength within myself to run, with every last bit of energy I had, across the electronic marker that would tell some computer that I had arrived. The marker that would tell the computer that out of 12,000 runners who started, I would be one of the 9,397 people who endured to cross the finish line.

When I crossed the line, I burst into tears. The medics ran over to me asking me if I was okay, if I needed help. I looked them in the eyes and told them I needed no medical help, rather my tears were those of joy, of disbelief, of pure pain for which they had no cure. I couldn't even feel my feet from the pounding they had taken on the concrete. I walked, no, hobbled over to a man who placed a finisher's medal around my neck, gave me a hug and told me congratulations for completing the 2009 Derby Mini-Marathon. I believe that moment will be the closest feeling I will ever have to getting an Olympic Medal. It is my cherished possession, the proof that will last long beyond my blisters that I FINISHED 13.1 miles on my own, and on my own two feet.

I cringe to admit this to my readers, but for the last mile, I was stuck on the Miley Cyrus song "The Climb." (I thank two unnamed friends for accompanying me to a place where I could learn this song.) However, there were parts that were screaming to me, almost loud enough to scream over the pain screaming from my body.

"There's a voice inside my head saying, you'll never reach it." Pretty much. After mile 8, I had no idea if I could make it. I wasn't sure my legs would cooperate. I am not sure I had the mental strength to make them walk another step, nonetheless 5 more miles.

"These are the moments that I'm gonna remember most." Ah, I liked this line. As we made our lap inside Churchill Downs, the wind was blowing at my back...urging me on a little further. The sun was shining, there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the Twin Spires towered down in an amazingly beautiful way. There were people all along the way, they were clapping for friends, family, anyone who was running. Their cheers, oranges, Vaseline, and water were enough to keep me going, to keep me from quitting...

"Ain't about how fast I get there, ain't about what's waiting on the other side, it's the climb." This one was debatable to me. It definitely wasn't about how long it took me to finish, rather about finishing. And it wasn't until I crossed that finish line that I realized, besides the medal, there was nothing amazing and significant waiting for me there. Rather, the significant part of the day had happened. On every last inch of that road that stretched from Iroquois Park to Downtown Louisville. In that day, in that moment, my will power had been enough to push my body past the point of exhaustion, past the pain in every part of my body, and had carried me to finish something I never even dreamed of doing.

Today, my body is sore...but it is a good sore. It's a little uncomfortable...it's a little irritating, but it is a reminder of what, just yesterday, I was able to accomplish. I want to wear my medal around everywhere I go...but I have hung it on the refrigerator for now. Next to all the bib numbers from all the races I have completed this year. The bright yellow one marked "14121C" is the most important of all. It marks not only an accomplishment, but a journey of 12,000 runners of which only 9397 finished. A journey in which I could have quit because it was the hardest thing I have ever done. A journey which left me with 3 blisters. Three visible reminders of the day that was, after all, not my demise, but rather, a new beginning. After all, as I was reminded by a sign at the beginning of Mile 13, Philippians 4:13 - I can do everything through Him who gives me strength."

At mile 10, there was a woman in front of me. Her shirt kept me occupied for about 3 minutes. It said "I run because...I love not just the finish line, but the trip along the way. It makes me feel free. I've got energy to burn. It's my anti-depressant. Walking takes to long and I have things I need to get done. My personal best is just that: mine. It's a good kind of sore. It makes the pavement feel needed. There are a lot worse addictions out there. There is no better way to explore a city or enjoy the spring flowers or fall leaves. There is no drug like adrenaline. I'll never know how far I can go unless I try. The pavement doesn't complain when you pound it. It takes all I've got but gives back more. Others can't. I can."

aformerblonde.

The day before my likely demise...

So tomorrow I will do something that
a. I never thought I would do
b. I will probably hate myself for doing
c. I will not enjoy all but 1% of
d. Will likely be my demise.

I will complete the Kentucky Derby Mini-Marathon. 13.1 miles. I think that is how far it is from my house to work every day. Are you serious? Back on July 4th, with an additional amount of weight on my body, I finished a 6.2 mile race. I hated 6.1 miles of it. That last one-tenth of a mile was the greatest moment I had experienced in a long time. Crossing that finish line was an accomplishment that gave me enough adrenaline that I registered for, and completed, 5 more races in the past year.

The act of running terrifies me. I suck at breathing, though I have improved dramatically over the last year. I know how to relax my body and such, learned how to breathe more efficiently...however, I don't like running. It frustrates me cause I am slow. It frustrates me cause people who are older breeze by me like a race horse. What I love is, finishing.

I never knew I was an adrenaline junkie. However, my continued self-punishment is evident of this. However, my task ahead is daunting. 13.1 miles? wow. That's a really REALLY long way. My task is to finish. I don't even care how long it takes me. I want to cross the finish line before the race is over, and I want a finishers medal. I have something to prove to myself here. I want to prove to myself that I can do this. That I can do anything if I set my mind to it. That I'm stronger than I think. That whatever doesn't kill us makes us stronger. I want to prove to myself I could do something that, a year ago, I would have never dreamed about doing.

I've loaded my iPod up with running music. I've got my running pants packed, running shoes provided by John's Run/Walk, and socks especially for running. Let me not confuse anyone. I will not be setting any world records this weekend, I mean unless there is one for the slowest mini-marathon ever!) However, I will be setting a personal record that I never even thought I would have for myself. I can't wait to cross the finish line. I wish it would just come to me, because I know that the 13 miles that lead up to that one-tenth of a mile are going to be the worst 13 miles ever. But, for that 1/10th....for the chance to stride across the finish line and do something I never thought would be for me...to do something many people never do in their lives...it's worth it.

See you on the other side of the finish line.

aformerblonde.

and they didn't know I was blonde.

I'm giving this blog thing a try. I feel like I'm sort of at this crossroads in my life, and I have just decided to take a hard right when, traditionally, I would have continued on straight ahead. So I figured, what better time to start a blog...my friends have been encouraging me to write down my stories forever...so, though this first entry will disappoint them terribly because it is not filled with my usual humor, it is where I feel I must start...

I recently took a trip to visit a "good" friend in California. Someone I had known for 6 years and turns out I didn't really know at all. I had a wonderful, yet expensive, vacation. There were some lessons I learned from this trip that I wanted to put down in writing so I could remember them.

First, it is always good to get away from where you nest. I never used to think about this because I lived so many different places and always had to find a way for myself. However, since coming back to Lexington, I think complacency has crept in and I find myself forgetting about the giant world that is out there away from Kentucky. I think I learned to appreciate other people more, other ways of life more. I think I learned a little bit about wonder and awe...about beauty. I certainly learned to never take for granted cost free parking...EVER.

I also learned that people change. I used to be a super non-confrontational, just let it go kind of person. In the last few months, I think that has changed, and I think that came into its fullness on this trip. It is not that I am less tolerant. In fact, I think I am more tolerant than ever before. However, I think that I am less willing to put up with people's BS. For example: If you haven't called me in months...don't invite me to your birthday party. If you can't make an effort to be my friends during the ordinary moments of your life, don't expect me to be there for the extraordinary ones...which leads me to...

Knowing when to cut the cord. For the last few weeks, I've been cutting cords left and right and getting rid of all the toxic people in my life. I have realized I simply can't fuel your toxicity any longer. If you are angry, go be angry, but I'm not going to argue, fight back, or defend it. If you feel the need to call, text, email or whatever it is you want to do to express your displeasure with my cutting your cord in my life, don't waste your time. Because I'm not going to waste mine. It's not that I don't care. It's actually that I do care. Only I care about surrounding myself, and my life, with people who don't drain me emotionally, physically and mentally. I have this one friend, in Florida, who I feel was separated from me at birth. We go months and months without seeing each other, yet as soon as we see each other, we are able to fill each other in really amazing ways. And what happens when you are able to feed each other, is you develop an incredible friendship that could stand up to any storm, no matter what that storm is, right Jackie?

The next thing I wanted to detox about is the concept of a gift. This has been something I have been talking about since I got back. What is a gift? Webster's has several definitions, with the first being:
something given voluntarily without payment in return, as to show favor toward someone, honor an occasion, or make a gesture of assistance; present
This is what I always thought. I love giving gifts but am terrible at keeping surprises. I can keep a secret to my grave, but I blow surprises like no body I know. One of the things I love about gifts, is doing something really awesome for someone that cheers them up...makes them feel happy for that moment...but what I love about this definition...the thing that I really think defines a gift from anything else, like a barter, a trade, etc, is that it is "given voluntarily without payment in return." Recently, I met some people who didn't understand the meaning of the gift. It was one of the greatest disappointments I have experienced lately. I was told that for the gift I received, I needed to supply a gift of their demand. Not the token of thanks I had already given them, rather a monetary gift. In fact, my lack of providing this "monetary gift" was then criticized. I found this to be absurd...not to mention presumptuous and rude. Never in my life have I been given a "gift" and then demanded to return that "gift." Is this what these desperate times have moved people to, or were you always like this and I never noticed? Thank you for your gift. You are welcome for yours. I am not at all sorry it wasn't the "gift" (demand) that you wanted. However, it was a gift I chose with great thought and care. I wont be forced to give gifts, or made to feel guilty about the gift I give. However, I cannot continue in a relationship where voluntary things are demanded of me. It's why I haven't returned your texts. It's why I haven't returned your calls or acknowledged your messages. It is my gift to you. The gift for you to move on and look for someone else who will meet your demands and lay down and roll over to your ridiculous expectations. I won't be that person any longer.

As I left California, I knew to myself it would likely be a long time before I returned (maybe sooner than I thought depending on this summer job). I found it fitting. In California I left many things. Expensive parking, ridiculous expectations, all my money, the tendency I had to let people manipulate my feelings. I almost missed my flight home. But I made sure to leave that day. I needed to come home. I realized some people will never fully appreciate you, and it isn't your job to make them appreciate you. Either they will or they won't. Second, it can be scary to cut that "cord". The one that has fed you for so long, but, sometimes, the cord stops feeding you and instead, it starts feeding off you. Sometimes you don't even notice that reverse of nutrient exchange. Until eventually you realize, you are starved...mentally, emotionally, spiritually. Instead, cut the cord and feed yourself for a while. Instead, find a friendship where you can feed each other. Which leads me to the end of what I have to say...as much as it is important to get away and be reminded of the giant world there is, it is also equally important to keep your eyes, mind and heart open wherever it is you call your home. I have made two of the most amazing new friends because I finally walked around with my eyes open. I am so blessed by their friendship...

and they didn't even know I used to be a blonde.

aformerblonde.