Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Let's Get This Party Started...already

Just as Juno starts her clever little story by saying, "It all started with a chair, " I too will use a piece of furniture to begin my tale. That will probably be the only similarity that Juno's story will have to mine, but it was an intriguing line to start a epic story.

So (clearing my throat), it all started with a park bench.
 About a year ago, I found myself sitting on this bench crying. I was five days away from my third marathon and during a short run, a pain that wouldn't subside, got the best of me and forced me to stop. I was unable to lift my leg over the curb. So, I dragged my right leg behind me and hobbled to the bench. I felt stuck in the park. I couldn't move without
 tons of pain. I called Kenton hoping he might be able to rescue me. He didn't answer. I broke down. I must of looked like a moron.
After a few minutes, I did all I could think of and that was get up and hobble home. I made it home and went immediately to a website trying to figure out what had happened.
Well, you all know how this story goes by now. I had fractured my pelvis. I wasn't a runner for quite some time thereafter. Even once I was allowed to run, I wasn't a marathoner.
But flash forward to today and here I sit, just four days away until my next marathon. I've been under close supervision by a wonderful friend and physical therapist. I've been accepted into a group of wonderful runners who have helped me train at a race pace. I've run and recovered from a 20 mile run, a 22 mile run, and even a 24 mile run. I hit race pace on all these training
My family has supported me through all of this. Whether it's been long phone calls with my Dad. Jaw drops from my mom as she encourages me about the distances. Judah telling me, "I'll pray for you, you don't have to be scared, I know you can do it." Countless new and old family and friends checking in all the time and seeing how I'm doing. And especially Kenton. He's worked around my training, financially supporting my expenses and did it all willingly. He even dug a path in the snow to get me to the Y during a blizzard,
 so I wouldn't miss my 12 miler, even if it had to be on a treadmill. I love that man. He's never once told me to dial it down. He believes in me and I know I succeed mostly because of him.
So here we sit. Four days and counting.. 3 Days, 14 Hours, and 44 minutes...
This marathon is to be my Boston Qualifier. I plan to run 26.2 miles in less that 3:40. That is a 50 minute improvement on my best time. I'm scared to death and excited beyond belief all at the same time. Every little ting or twitch has me on guard. I'm fearful that it's going to storm. A million other things are swarming my head as the days tick down. But this is all normal. My nerves show how important it all is to me.

I have bib number as of this week. I'm #1495. I can be tracked along the course by that number. Every time I cross a timing mat (Every 10 kilometers, I think) my time will be reported at this site:

I consider all of you (yes, even you who read this and never comment, or barely know me) very dear. I know I couldn't do any of this with out the love I get from all of you.
I covet your prayers. I can't wait to tell you all about it. I'm excited to tell you about being a marathoner, again, and How the Lord helped me rise off that park bench and shine for him.

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