Mud, Sweat, and Tears

Last week greeted us with 5 inches of snow on Wednesday and Thursday, followed by 67 degrees on Saturday and Sunday.  Only in Northern Virginia...  That being said, it made for a record weekend of running where I logged 12.4 miles for the weekend.  And although 3.4 of them were a muddy mess, 9 of them were flawless.

Saturday was one of those days what will live on in my mind forever.  It's said that there are moments in life that define us- that are so profound that they almost stop time and everything from that point on has new definition.  I had said before that somewhere around mile 5, I became a runner.

I was wrong.  Last Saturday, as I caught a glimpse of mile 9, I became a runner- in my heart, in my soul, in my bones.

Now, its one thing to say you're a runner...but to really BE one...that is truly different.  I'm finding it's a practice much like yoga that requires so much more than body.  It takes a certain conviction within yourself.  I've always wanted to BE a runner, but the voice inside me would taunt me with insecurities.  "Your lungs are going to quit on you; you'll gasp for air.... just who do you think you are, crazy girl??  AND you want to run a half marathon? Are you nuts??"  And I believed that voice.  I believed that 13.1 was a far off dream.  When I registered for the half marathon in May, it was a fleeting thought that I'd actually make it.  Sure, I'd give it my best, but honestly, I wasn't going to be surprised if I didn't make it all the way.  I'd take pride in working towards the goal, but secretly kept in my mind that I'd never make it.  The voice in my head had me convinced, and I believed it...Until Saturday.

Because on Saturday, I ran 9 miles.  Further than I had ever run in my life, and at a decent pace of  just over 9 minutes per mile.  And strangely, that voice in my head died out at mile 7 and became replaced.  Replaced by what?  SILENCE.  And in that silence, turning the loop of mile 8 and charging onward to mile 9, I became someone new; someone unstoppable.  In that silence, I could feel the run in every fiber of my being, every pound of my chest, and every slap of my shoes.  It was just me and the pavement.

It was a feeling that was so freeing and new, that even now, the tears stream down my cheeks as I recall the final strides to mile 9.  I didn't fully realize it at the time.  I thought my tears were simply pride in a new milestone.  And in a sense, they were... they still are.  But the size of that milestone is more than a number.  It's the breaking point of a barrier that I had created for myself so long ago.  It's the realization and acknowledgement of a power within me that I didn't know was there.  And it was at that moment that I recalled the last words my mother spoke to me:

"You can be anything."

I hope she's smiling at my reply today.
Mummy, I am a runner.

Half crazy, and fully committed,
Jenny

Minor Setbacks

Well, training hasn't gone so well this past week. We'll call it minor set backs... But I am still charging ahead as best as I can.

I'm currently battling the CF dynamic infection duo. Upper respitory infection combined with sinus infection. In other words, this girl can't breathe. Currently combating this with my usual Cipro and
Colisthine but running more than 3 miles is proving to be a challenge. Hopefully by mid next week, I can crank it up again. Such is life when you have CF- a constant flip flop between triumphs and tiny setbacks.

Next week, I venture to PA to see my team of specialists who will tell me my current stats for lung function, as well as provide me with tools I'll need to properly fuel myself during this training process and the half marathon itself. My biggest concern?? Maintaining my constantly dwindling salt levels. I'm sure they'll help me figure out the best course of action.

As a side note, yes, I am returning to my care team at Hershey rather than the team at Hopkins- they may be #1 in the nation, but they just weren't the right fit for me. Sometimes you have to recollect yourself and find what's most important to you in order to receive your best care. Many may not understand this change, and that's okay- you don't have to. For me, this is the right move.

Until I'm back in full force, I'll keep breathing easy each step of the way.

I remain, half crazy...
Jenny

4 months and counting...

4 months.  My date with destiny is exactly 4 months away.  To say I am amped up, is an understatement.  I use to be someone that ran, for a while, and then after a few miles... I decided to only run if something was chasing me.  Now, my inner drive is chasing me- pushing and propelling me forward towards 13.1.  It shall be mine... sweet victory shall be mine.

That being said, no one in their right mind enters this without a plan of attack.  My plan of attack is to follow the plan my sister in law ( a true marathoner!) follows when she is training.  It was a little intimidating to see it all there in black and white, I'll admit.  BUT, ya know what- one day at a time... one goal at a time.

I'm hovering between 4 and 6 miles currently...Some days it's 4, some days it's 6, but most days it's just shy of 5.  It's cold- CF lungs hate cold.  I'm learning that when my lungs scream, if I keep pushing through, they'll shut up after a bit.  It's getting past that point of screaming that sometimes takes will power.  And so, while I am following "the plan", here are my own personal little goal milestones.

By February 1st- Maintain 6 miles

Run a 10K in early February, be at 8 Miles by end of Feb.

Mid March- Run a 10 miler

End of March- Hopefully maintain around 11 miles.

Spend all of April hitting my last 2 miles...I hear they are the ones that kill ya.



May 5th, 2013- My Day of Victory.


Today...I bought new shoes and made an appointment for PFT's, so I can check my current lung function.  Then, I did some interval training.  I figure, that's a good start.

Here's to half- crazy.
Jenn

Battling balance

This seems to be my constant battle... Balancing all of the aspects of my life without something going by the wayside. Between work, family, chores, and that thing called sleep... Where is the ME time? When can I fit in a workout when I barely fit in lunch?? Hell, if we're really honest, I'm lucky if I get to P between 7:45 and 3:45.

Yet somehow, I'm suppose to have time for all of it. Like wonder woman. So lets break it down and look logically at my day. And I realize there are others that have it far worse, but this is my blog, and right now we're focusing on me. So there. And yes, I did just blow raspberries!

Gosh- that took so much time. I probably could have done jumping jacks or something. Anyway...

5am- wake up. Yep, it's early and you are probably thinking "why the heck are you up at 5?! 2 words- curly hair. Shower, hair, an actual human breakfast, pack lunches, kiss husband, 30 minutes of chest percussion therapy, shoes, keys, go.

7am- out the door
7:40 - 12:30 crazy teacher lady
12:30 - 1:00 apparently I eat lunch at this time... It's more like "confirm information with principal, complete task assigned , respond to emails, woof down lunch in 6 minutes flat, go pick up kids- ah shit, I didn't P.
1:00 - 3:45 crazy teacher lady
4:10- the time I'm suppose to leave...
5:00 or 5:30- the time I really leave.
6:00- home sweet home to make dinner and eat
7:00- dinner over
9:30- bed, if I make it that long.

So you see... Here's the balance issue- by the time I am home and have eaten dinner, I have 2.5 hours to relax with my husband before bed. Not including any chores, workouts, or work that I've brought home with me.

Something's gotta give.
Suggestions?

Half crazy...
J