I don't miss FaceTime Christmas!

It occurred to me that this Christmas of 2022 is the first one since 2017 that I’ve been able to participate in family reindeer games.  2018 found us in Florida, 2019 landed us in Oklahoma, 2020 was the Christmas Scott was already in Vermont, while I wrapped things up with work in Oklahoma, and 2021 was the year that wasn’t, with weather and Covid ganging up on us big time.

This year wasn’t perfect, as Covid once again came knocking.  So while I didn’t get to spend time with Mom, I was able to put together a care package/Christmas present combination and performed the handoff with masks donned.

Reflecting on this four-year Christmas hiatus, I once again felt so happy to be home.  With two little ones running around now, the noise decibel was at its highest.  The food and drink was bottomless.  The laughter and thoughtful gift giving was priceless.

Erin's amazing baking

FaceTime only goes so far.  You can’t taste the treats from a distance.  You also can’t mug for a family picture.  When you’re the coolest Uncle ever, enjoying the surprise (from both the kids and the parents) of giving matching skateboards really can’t happen fully via FaceTime.

We were rewarded with a gorgeous sunset during our Christmas Eve travels.

Four years is a long time, yet it also feels like it passed in a blink of an eye.  Time stops for no one and I’m happy to have replaced FaceTime with real life FamilyTime.

Merry Christmas All!

 

Really, it's just a number

Since Covid hit and cancelled races in 2020 and part of 2021, I like many watched my marathon and ultra plans slip away.  I wasn’t a fan of the virtual race, so I just tried to keep some flicker of motivation lit during that time.  Each race I planned for was to be my 30^th race of marathon distance or greater. 

Numbers like this can motivating.  Really, it’s just a number.

Fast forward to 2021.  I registered to run Clarence Demar Marathon (one of my favorites!), excited to return to an in-person race and march towards that race with a solid training cycle.  Alas, my training fell flat and at the last minute, I dropped down to the half marathon distance.  On a beautiful September day, I ran happily alongside many of my Keene friends and finished feeling good.  Took a 2:08 finishing time for my effort.

2:08…not my best time.  Really, it’s just a number.

This past weekend, I punched my ultra ticket once again at Ghost Train (another one of my favorites!) with a goal of completing two out and back laps – 30 miles.  I was lucky to have Scott, Meaghan, and Caitlyn there to support me. And even a surprise appearance by Sue!  Over the span of 6 hours, 44 minutes, I ran alongside new friend Ali (who went on to run 60 miles!) and we chatted, sang, and ate our way through the miles.  The weather was perfect, my legs felt good, and my mind felt prepared for the challenge.  Half-way through my race, we chatted with a woman who was part of a larger group running and supporting their friend who was also tackling the 30 miles distance – for her 70^th birthday!

70?!?!?  Really, it’s just a number.

Our journeys are so much more than numbers.  Numbers do help motivate at times, and other times they can become disqualifiers (“I’m too old….it’s too late…I’m too slow”).  I try to look at my numbers as motivators to remind me more of my successes and less of my short comings.  I’m not perfect at it, as I often look back to my Ghost Train 100 race and get caught up in lamenting over “what I used to be able to do”, but then I remember running happy, friends who go out of their way to support you, a healthy body and mind, and 70-year-old inspirations...

Really, no numbers can match that!

A special summit

Twenty one years have passed since September 11, 2001.  As the day approaches each year, I feel reflective and solemn remembering the tragedy, the loss, and the helplessness.  What I was never aware of until this past weekend is that four months after that fateful day, a small group hiked Mt. Liberty in the White Mountains and raised an American flag on its peak.  In solidarity, in memorial, and in peace.  This event is called Flags on the 48.

A friend texted me to ask if I’d like to accompany her to Mt. Lincoln to raise a flag.  Ready for an adventure, I was all in.  After an early wake-up call and a drive to the trail head, we started meeting the others in our group and preparing for our hike.  We had a great group who clicked right away.  We shared the job of transporting the flag pole, the base, the flag, and various supplies.  We shared snacks along the way.  We shared stories.  And we shared laughter. 

The summit offered us unexpectedly clear and long range views.  We passed the binoculars around, so we could enjoy the endless White Mountain ranges, a slight haze due to CA wildfires, and the other flags also flying on the other 47 peaks.  The binoculars also came in handy to watch a bear grazing peacefully below us.

  

Each flag waved from 12-2pm, until the time came to dissemble our flag and start our descent.  The day was long and we were all a good tired as we approached the trail head after a full day on the mountain.  Our descent group traded information to enable us to connect on social media and we each headed home.  But not before a trip through McDonald’s drive-thru!

We can’t erase the sadness or tragedy or loss of life from September 11^th, but by taking part in events like Flags on the 48, we can replace the feelings of helplessness with purpose and pride.  Hikers summiting Mt. Lincoln showed such gratitude for our efforts.  We shared why we were there to other hikers who didn’t know about Flags on the 48.  Regardless of how much or how little hikers knew about it, everyone knew this was something special.  I felt so proud to do something bigger than me, to remember all who were lost and all who are still suffering today.  I hope this also helps others continue to remember back to 4 months post-September 11, 2001, when the first group hiked Mt. Liberty – in solidarity, in memorial, and in peace. 

Getting back on the horse

The last time I ran was last Sunday.  When, in my last few miles, I came upon a small pick-up truck parked on the side of the road.  My internal flag went up, heart rate increased, grasp on my pepper spray tightened, and I increased the space between us as I approached a man sitting in the driver seat with the window open.

Man:    You must be tired!  I saw you going up that big hill and around the block!

Me:      [ W A R N I N G – why has he noticed me in two very different areas and why is he sitting here? ]

Maybe 2 minutes later, he passed me (same direction) and gave a normal wave with no further obvious  ‘creepiness’.  But the damage was done with his replaying having seen me go up the hill, around the block, and now, sitting parked for no obvious reason in the one area of the road where there are no houses.  I hope he meant no harm and just has no self-awareness, but I’m going to continue to assume he (and others) might be up to no good.  Similar to living in Florida; assume every body of water contains an alligator and you can’t go wrong.  So I assume anyone/any vehicle has the potential to be bad.  It sucks to think that way, but the alternative could be that I don’t return home.  Not an option.

I haven’t run since then because I’ve felt afraid.  Afraid and incredibly angry.  Afraid of evil people who terrorize women who (god forbid) try to exercise to stay healthy and fit.  Angry that we women are literally risking our lives to go out for a run.

So today I ran.  But I ran with a bodyguard.  Yes, my husband insisted on driving around my route to make sure I felt comfortable.  Honestly, I didn’t argue.  I stepped out in the light of day, knowing my husband was always close by, and still armed with my pepper spray.  And while I was relieved to get back out, I felt so heavy – like when you try to run when you have a lump in your throat.  You just can’t cry and run.  Period.  That’s how today’s run felt.  I can’t get Eliza Fletcher and so many other women who have met the same fate out of my head.  The terror, the pain, and the sorrow whenever she knew she might not make it home.  I just can’t.

I don’t want to be so afraid that I don’t live.  But I also want to stay alive.  Today I got back on the horse, albeit with a safety net.  And I will work on getting back and staying on the horse safely and being even more vigilant than ever.  I read a comment a running insta-friend posted on this topic that really resonated with me:  “…I shifted my focus from the ‘it shouldn’t have to be this way’ to ‘this is the way today’s world is…”  As much as I want to stick my fingers in my ears and block it all out, I know I'm going to have to put on my big-girl running shorts and run.  Run for Eliza...run for myself....run for us all.

Fueled by friends, fun, and Fritos

This past weekend, Scott and I packed our ultra bins and headed to run 6 Hours on Lover’s Lane.  The event sounded perfect for where I am with running:  trails, flexible distance, and no pressure.  And since recently coming off of the Ghost Train waitlist, this event served as a great training run to remind myself what distance feels like as I look ahead to a 30 mile goal.

After way too many days of heavy, soupy, humid weather, we caught a break!  Not that it didn’t get warm, but it was much more comfortable to run than it had been.  We had several friends we knew were running that day, so it really felt like home.  As we got closer to the starting time though, I noticed Ali was nowhere to be found!  I just met Ali as a fellow volunteer at Vermont 100 in July and was looking forward to sharing some miles with her.  With maybe 5 minutes to spare, she whipped into the parking lot and was racing to get her bib# as we started the race.

No chip timing needed!  A quick sharpie mark and off for another loop!

Very soon, Ali caught up to me and we chatted through a couple loops.  The loops were a bit under 2 miles in length and we “got to” run as many as we wanted within the six hour timeframe.  Soon into the run, I knew my time with Ali wouldn’t last, as she was ready to lay down some strong miles that day.  The loops enabled us to see each other throughout the day, which made it fun and encouraging for us all.  I also got to see Amanda, Rob, Ashley, and even Scott several times.  

Although I packed my usual ultra food/snacks, I quickly realized that Fritos were going to be my fuel of choice.  I stuffed a handful in my vest pocket at almost every loop.  A side of Fritos with my sandwich?  Yes please.  A side of Fritos with my watermelon?  Sure, why not.  A side of Fritos with my Fritos?  Don’t mind if I do….

This was my first experience running a short loop course repetitively.  I wasn’t sure if it would feel monotonous after a few loops, but I was pleasantly surprised that it really never got boring.  Each loop presented decent elevation (~300 ft), so after 14 laps, I sure did feel it.   By the end of my time at Lover’s Lane, my watch said I completed 25.2 miles.  Although briefly tempted to bring my mileage to 26.2 to reach the marathon distance, I couldn’t fathom running another step once I stopped. 

Today I feel good and a lot better than I have after other non-trail, flatter races of that distance.  I was thrilled with how I managed my run and fuel, my final mileage total, and the fact that I ran the full 6 hours.  I highly recommend this event if you enjoy a low-key, friendly, encouraging atmosphere with great food and great people.  Stickers, trucker hats, and maple syrup (for top 3) were fun swag as well. 

If you're looking for me, you can find me where the friends, fun, and Fritos are!

Ali and I celebrating after a fun day in the woods!