First (and last) Full Marathon

    Running a full marathon has been something I have wanted to try for awhile. I have run the Indianapolis Mini Marathon a couple times and run several 5K's. I decided I wanted to run one before I turned 40. That same day I saw someone post on social media about sale prices for the St. Jude's Rock and Roll Marathon in Nashville. I signed up, ordered a training book, and planned my 20 week training plan. 

    Training was tough the first couple of days as I had been working out, but not running regularly. After the first couple weeks my left knee that I had ACL surgery on over 10 years ago started hurting. I began physical therapy. But by week eight my knee did not hurt anymore. I was so excited at how well I was improving and happy that I was enjoying running. Then I realized I messed up my 20-week plan and I was 4 weeks ahead of schedule. In hindsight, I should have just kept pushing forward on the plan, but I decided to slow down and start the plan over. 

    For the first time that I can ever remember, I packed workout clothes on vacation, and I actually used them and stuck to my training plan. I was excited with how healthy I was feeling and seeing changes in my body for the better. Running was giving me a high, especially when I would go early in the morning while most of the world, including my children, were sleeping. I changed my music choices several times, but usually ended up with a Christian workout station on Pandora. This allowed me to also quiet some of my thoughts and listen to the meaning of the words and worship while running.

    By week 14 I hit a wall. I was fighting some depression, anxiety, and stress that I had not really allowed myself to deal with or talk to anyone about. I skipped a run. I paused my gym membership so I could focus on my running as the mileages were adding up and I struggled with both along with my daily responsibilities. But my mind was stronger than my body and I would talk myself out of another run or three. Sometime in the following weeks I ended up with bulging discs in my neck. When I would try to run, I was in terrible pain and would have to walk more of my routes. I started going back for physical therapy. 

    Physical therapy was helping, I was starting to train again. But then our kids started taking turns getting sick and I would have to cancel my sessions. Two weeks before the marathon I debated on canceling or running the half and trying the full another time. It was cold outside, I was tired, I knew I had not been training like I should have. But I decided to push forward and rather than hoping for a finish time of my early weeks in training, I just wanted to be done in the 6 hour time limit. 

    Day of the race came. I could not believe it. I was happy it was finally here. I was sad I had not trained like I had begun and had planned to do up to this day. But I remembered how excited the crowd and entertainment made me on my mini marathons, so I hoped for the same. I had designed a playlist of music to help me if needed. And it was cold! Cold weather makes me have to urinate more. I lined up in my assigned corral about 7:00am. The first corral was released at 7:20am. My spot in my corral finally went through about 7:37am. 

 This is just some dialog in my mind as I completed the marathon:

     Yay! Finally, here we go! Okay, 26.2 miles and I will be done. I can do this. Oh no! It is cold, my toes are starting to feel numb. We are not even a mile down the road. I have to pee! Oh look porta potty's, wait people are cutting in line, I can't start like this, I have to just keep running, I cannot loose time in the first porta potty line! So I keep going. I see mile 3. Really! Already, that isn't so bad at all. Whew, I am hot, I need to loose this jacket, but not until I find a porta potty. I should have brought a sweatshirt I didn't mind leaving on the side of the road. Mile 5, what!? An empty porta potty! Okay, I feel better, I can keep running. What a beautiful neighborhood! Those people are passing out candy like it is Halloween, how funny. Mile 8, I see Santa Claus cheering me on, and the Easter Bunny. I also see Elvis running. I don't think I am hallucinating just yet, but maybe. Mile 11/12 we split from the half marathoners and it is all the sudden quiet and lonely. I turn a corner and get to run in the Sounds Stadium. I see myself on the big guitar screen. I try to snap a running selfie, but I discover later that it didn't turn out. I meet another runner who is also running his first marathon and also because of turning 40. Soon, we run alongside the half marathoners again. But wait! They are done, there they go, listen to those cheers. Ok, mile 15, I can do this. This isn't terrible. My mind is starting to tell me I am done, but I cannot listen. Mile 17 into a park. It is quieter, the paths are more narrow. I can do this, think "pretty park". But it isn't the leaves haven't changed much or they are already cleaned up. There are no pretty ducks in the water. Oh no! I have to pee again. I don't see any porta pottys. Wait, why does that sign say 20? I was just at 17. I can't be doing too bad, look at these people running past me in the opposite way. I just need to keep going. Hang on, "U-turn"!? So the people I just passed, thinking I was on a good pace were actually ahead of me and already did this loop! Why does that sign say 23. What is going on? Who messed up? My watch says mile 19 something. Okay, I have to walk more because when I run, I feel like I may pee my pants. Mile 20, I find a porta potty. I see a text from my husband pop up about being at mile 20 for awhile and asking if I am ok. No time to respond, just need to keep going. Finally, coming out of the park. Yay! I want to see city life again. OH NO! Does that sign have an arrow to finish straight ahead, but for the SECOND LOOP, to the right? I stop and ask. Yes, the park is two loops. Ugh, now the signs I saw make sense. Oh no. My mind is shut down. I cannot run. I want to cry. I want to be done. I will never sign up for another full. I will stick to half marathons and 5K's. Look that woman is walking. I can walk. Just for a bit. Oh wait, she was just walking the park! Now she is leaving. Oh no, I have to run! Caught back up to these two women I had passed and who had passed me at multiple points during this race. I am doing good. Yay! End of park is ahead. Mile 23. Oh wait, that is the pick-up bus to pick up runners coming into the park. I have to keep going. My feet hurt. My back hurts. My legs are starting to hurt. Small jog, I can do a small jog. I am fighting tears. I want to stop. I cannot stop. I am at Mile 24. I cannot come this far and not finish. But I cannot run anymore. I can barely jog. I come up by another runner and ask him if he has done this race before. He has. I ask him if I can walk the last 2 miles at this point or if they will pick me up. He tells me I have done great and I won't get picked up at this point if I walk. He also tells me the double park route was new and messed with his mind as well. A man cheering on comes up to me to tell me that there is one more hill around Mile 25, but after that, it is all downhill. He tells me I have this and to keep going but save my energy for the hill. I jog some more, I fight tears some more. There it is the hill at Mile 25. I power walk it up the best I can. Mile 26 sign, I start jogging. Finally, the gates into the finish line. I pick up my pace some, almost done. Wahoo! I did it! There is my husband and our kids. How wonderful! I am so glad they are here. I crossed the line in just shy of 6 hours. I am happy. I am sore! I am slightly discouraged with my time, but trying to lean on the fact that I did it and in my later goal time knowing that I had not been training toward the last 6 weeks like I should have.

*We figured out that my husband thought I was stuck at mile 20 for awhile because of the double loop in the park. I think it was hard for the tracking system to understand the pass throughs.

  

Difficult Conversations with Parents

     When we are younger, we tend to try to act older. We want to speed things up and be an adult (especially in the teen years). What we don't realize often enough is all the responsibility that comes with being an adult. If you were like me, your parents tried to shield you away from knowing the stress of all the responsibility that was on their plate. Paying the bills, working, taking care of their aging parents, and trying to find time to enjoy life with their children who were rapidly growing up.

    So here I am, almost 39 years into this world. Trying to balance the stress of life with work, bills, raising children that have had a few more medical concerns than my parents had to deal with. I have the daily heartaches of missing 2 of our children. Also in our short years on this earth, my husband and I have already buried our fathers.

   Now, to explain the difficult conversations with parents. My husband and I have had the difficult conversations with both of our fathers. If you are at this stage of your life, or maybe you have been there already, then you may have also had this conversation. You know, the one that asks if they are prepared financially for their future, whether it be retirement home, long-term care, or having their funeral. Do they have life insurance? Where are the papers and the contact information of those we need in the event of emergency or death? Andrew's dad was more prepared, and before his passing, added him as a Power of Attorney. This made the process smoother in the midst of grief. Honestly, it allowed us the time to grieve.

    My dad, my Papa, well, that is another story. I was definitely "Daddy's girl". I was blessed to work with him some growing up and while in college. He taught me a lot. But, he was a stubborn, proud man. I knew he was not in the best of health, but he wouldn't admit it and wouldn't stop working. He visited us a lot to see his grandkids. During those visits I would try to find out more about the stage of his health, his finances, and his plans. He would tell me more about his health (but still not everything) than he would his finances. And he certainly didn't want to discuss plans. In May 2019, we stopped by my parents' house to stay for a couple days on our way to Chicago. On the refrigerator was his last ER visit report. It listed ALL his diagnosis and the years of the initial diagnosis. My father had Malignant Prostate Cancer that was diagnosed 5 days after our wedding in 2011! That was just 1 of the many things we uncovered. Andrew and I confronted him and expressed our concern. He commented that the cancer was benign. When we told him the report said malignant and we know what that means, I think he wished he had not kept the paper hanging up with 2 "kids" around who could decipher the medical language. I will never forget that day, the look on his face, or the fear in my body when we tried to ask him what his plans were. I told him I knew things (house and finances) were in a mess and I asked him if he went first if he would want to leave Mom in that mess. He said no, but that he had it handled....proud and stubborn. I didn't push the issue anymore. Then in December, he came for Christmas. He expressed some concerns he had to me about other things, but said he had it handled and would take care of it in January. 

    When they were getting ready to drive back to Indiana, my stubborn Papa climbed into the the driver's seat while I was upstairs changing our daughter from a diaper blowout. My mom came up to see if I was going to tell them goodbye. I was frustrated and said I was, but couldn't believe he couldn't wait a few minutes for me to clean Audrey up. Mom just said he was ready to get on the road and reminded me how stubborn he was. I hugged him the best I could while he still sat in the driver's seat. My gut told me it was the last time I would see my father and continued to twisted painfully as I watched them drive away, knowing it was the last time, but not wanting to believe it.

    Late on January 11, 2020 I got the call that my Papa was being worked on by paramedics. Into the first few minutes into January 12, he was gone. 

    I spent the next year heavily focused on the unprepared mess he left. I didn't get or take the time to grieve when I should have.  And there is still parts of the mess being dealt with and parts I am walking away from.

    I have spoken to a few people in the last year who have said that their parents also do not have things lined up. Maybe because of our life experience, but Andrew and I have everything prepared, but the last touches to our will, which we are currently working on. 

    So please, if you know your parents don't have things lined up, see what you can do to help them (if they will let you). Or see if you can take out a policy yourself to help with the finances when the time comes so you are not spending your savings. And, if your parent/s are as stubborn as my Papa, please let them know that the mess left can destroy families, take time unnecessary away from their grandkids, and leave you feeling lost and hopeless without being able to grieve properly.