Serious is as serious does

May 1, 2015 / Cassie / 1 Comment

“A life is not important except in the impact it has on other lives.” ~Jackie Robinson

Crackers. That’s what my life’s been about these days. Ritz crackers.

I don’t know why, but I have become obsessed with them. I’ll even buy them when they’re not on sale, which for me is a very big deal. They’re buttery. They’re salty. Like the little black dress, they go with everything. They also have almost a gram of fat per cracker…and let’s not even get into the ingredients. Yet lately, I can’t stop eating them.

It’s not for lack of healthy food. I have hummus and veggies and fruit (oh my!). It’s simply lack of desire. Frankly, it feels like a case of the “W’s”. Why bother? Who cares? What does it matter? Where am I actually going? When am I going to get myself together?

The truth of the matter is that I haven’t been taking myself seriously. I’ve just been eating and lazing about. Sure, I just had a baby a few weeks ago and most people seem to think I should just be laying in bed, holding my baby, and eating chips. But that’s not me. At least, it’s not anymore. Two ago it was. Post Oliver and Maxwell it was. But it’s not now and I know that I can’t go back to that.

While I think my cracker habit is innocuous, the wine and chocolate habit certainly isn’t and the scale is reminding me of that every Friday morning as I step on. Before, when the numbers went up, I could always just tell myself I was building muscle so it was ok. At that time, though, I was also running 25 miles awake so that was probably true. Not so much right now.

I signed up for 6 races while I was pregnant, hinging on the fact that having a goal or end point was going to make me jump right back after having the baby. With one of these being the New York City TCS Marathon I need to start taking the idea of running them seriously.

I feel like I fluctuate between “hell yes” and “hell no” whenever I think about actually completing the marathon. Moment of gut-wrenching truth? I have this feeling like I KNOW I am going to chicken out which is why I’m not training like I should.

I’m not taking this seriously and I’m not taking myself seriously. That is a problem. I still have trouble identifying myself as a “runner”, even more so now since I really can’t run again yet. I still get hung up on the fact that other people might not see me as a runner. I somehow automatically assume that everyone is judging me and the real reason is because I can’t stop judging myself.

I need to hold myself more accountable. I need to take myself seriously…even if other people don’t.

Because screw them.

I’m running the freaking New York City Marathon. And it’s going to be awesome.

The Proverbial Itch

April 25, 2015 / Cassie / Leave a comment

““That was a memorable day to me, for it made great changes in me. But it is the same with any life. Imagine one selected day struck out of it, and think how different its course would have been. Pause you who read this, and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on one memorable day.” ~Charles Dickens

This happens every few years. The proverbial itch. That feeling I get when I can’t sit still. It’s usually proceeded by a great life change. Two years ago it was the death of my father. Now, the birth of my newest child. With my father it had a lot to do with me rebelling against him, his death, and the need to prove that I am still very much alive, even when he was not. It was a need to prove that in a great upheaval, a great depression, I could still be happy. I felt the need to break free, go crazy, and prove that there was still “something” left in me.

But now, I’m starting to get that feeling again. I look at my daughter as I hold her in my arms at just 17 days old and think that I have never loved anything in my entire life as much as I’ve love her. And for someone like me, this can be very scary because when you love something that much, you now have something to lose.

Just the other day I was walking around my neighborhood and I couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that spring seemed to bloom overnight. The trees seemed to be bare one morning and then alive with light and color the very next day. And I found this to be the way I love my daughter. Unsure during my entire pregnancy if having more children was the “responsible” thing to do and then within minutes of her being born not being able to imagine living my life without her in it.

But these are scary feelings and sometimes they seem stronger than I am actually able to process within myself…hence the itching feeling, hence the need to break out of my own skin and shed the uncomfortable feeling of being unable to process so much.

The last time I made choices, and while many of them weren’t very wise choices, they brought me to the place where I am today. I’m stronger than I once was, I’ve discovered my love for running, I have an amazing new daughter, and I’m the most confident I’ve ever been. I learned a lot about myself during this time of upheaval, most importantly, to take myself seriously and not let anyone be in charge of my happiness.

But two years ago I did it all wrong. Two years ago I decided that the problem wasn’t me and that it was everything else around me. At that time running away seemed like the only option. And while I didn’t run away per se, I left my life behind for a while and jumped head first into something different and something unknown. I assumed that this would help me feel better. I assumed that this is what I needed to survive. But what I realized was just the opposite. Running away from my life nearly broke me. I became a shell of the person I was and it took too long to rebuild myself. I don’t have that kind of time anymore.

Now, things are different. The main difference, of course, was before I wanted to run away and now I simply want to run. I’m looking forward to being able to run again. To getting out there are pounding the pavement and smashing my problems as I work through them. Maybe this time the itchyness is a good thing; it’s a desire to get back to work on my and continue to my journey to becoming the best person I can be.

And that’s exactly what I’ll do – for me, for my family, and now for my amazing little daughter; the answer I never new I was looking for.

Everything you want is on the other side of fear

April 7, 2015 / Cassie / 1 Comment

“Do one thing every day that scares you.”~ Eleanor Roosevelt

Fear. It inhabits us in some form every day. This post could be about how I’m about to give birth for the third time tomorrow. And of course, this terrifies me.

This post could be about how I’m about to be a mother of three kids instead of two and I have no idea how I’m really going to do it, let alone, having no idea how to parent a girl. And of course, this terrifies me.

But this isn’t about that. Those things are fear inducing, yes, but I know I can do it. So, while the fear is there, it’s not “real”, it’s not tangible. No matter what, I will succeed at this because failure is not an option.

This post isn’t about that kind of fear. It’s not about the fear you have when you know you will survive. It’s about the fear you have when you jump head first into something you’ve never done before, something you don’t even know if you can do, something where there is essentially no safety net. This post is about jumping headfirst into something you have a 98% chance of failing at…and doing it anyway.

While this post isn’t about my pregnancy, per se, it definitely is impacted by it. For most of my life, I have suffered from insomnia. I don’t sleep a lot and I don’t sleep well. This can be rather helpful as a parent, though when pregnancy induced insomnia rears its ugly head and you are getting 4 hours of sleep as a pregnant woman, a mom, and a kindergarten teacher, reason seems to go out the window. And that is essentially where we begin.

Because it was this pregnancy induced insomnia that lead me to be on Twitter at 3 am on a random January “morning”. And it was this sleeplessness that had me on the New York Road Runners website scouting out some post-baby races. And it was this incredible exhaustion that had me reminiscing about how much I loved running and couldn’t wait to get back to it. And it was this amazing weariness of both mind and body that led to the major lack of judgement when I entered the lottery to run in the TCS NYC Marathon.

I knew the chances of getting in via lottery were super slim. I knew less than 10% of people are accepted. So I put the phone down, attempted to go back to sleep and put it out of my mind.

And it was. I went about my life. I ran intermittently. I started a a new Girls on the Run group. I parented and taught and my life went forward as it always did.

Until March 3rd. When somehow, in some strange twist of fate, I received this e-mail:

At first I couldn’t breath. Then I was excited. Then I was downright petrified. How the hell was I going to do this? I barely made it through my half marathon in October. At 5 months pregnant I could barely manage to talk by the end of it, let alone have completed another 13.1 miles. Not only did I take a spot from a real runner, someone who dreams of the NYC marathon the way I pregnantly dream about cake and wine, but if I decided to go through with this, I was ultimately going to fail.

And for the past month, all I could think about was the fact that I was going to fail at this. That I should drop out. That I should quit so I could just stop worrying. Then today I woke up and thought, maybe I wouldn’t. Sure, there is a 98% percent chance that I would fail, that I won’t be able to finish the marathon. But how will I know until I try. I began making a list of the reasons I might not fail. I began making a list so I could see that glimmer of hope in the 2%. And while I was only really able to come up with 2 things, here they are:

1. I was able to finish a half marathon at 5 months pregnant. I had barely trained because the beginning of my pregnancy had been emotionally and physically challenging. I had finished the half in 4 hours with running very little of it. The time limit for the TCS NYC Marathon is 8 hours. With the proper training, there is a chance I can do this, even if I come in dead last.

2. I was able to accomplish this (and this, and this). And somehow, it seems, when I make up my mind to do something, I don’t let anything stand in my way.

When I really began thinking about it, I realized my fear was mostly about what the “others” would think. What would my real runner friends think? What would my everyday friends think? Would any of them think I could do it? Would any of them tell me to my face that I could totally do it, but then think negatively behind my back?

And did any of that really matter? They weren’t running this thing, I was. And that’s when I had my answer. I was going to do it. I might fail, I might not. But that’s not really the important part. The important part is the idea that I could try.

I would try. 2% and all, I would try.

See you in November, NYC.

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow

March 24, 2015 / Cassie / Leave a comment

“People won’t have time for you if you are always angry or complaining.” ~Stephen Hawking

I sit. I stare at the screen. I know what I want to write, but I don’t. I know what I need to say, but the words don’t form. So instead of making myself, instead of just writing anything at all I shut the laptop and reach for the remote and drown my thoughts in crappy TV.

Lately, it seems, all I feel is angry and bitter. Towards my family. Towards my friends. Towards myself. Even towards baby #3. Almost everything makes me hostile. I have been focusing so much on all the can’ts, and the won’ts, and the shouldn’ts and it’s really been eating me up inside. I’m 38 weeks pregnant and even after today’s appointment, the baby isn’t ready to come. I can’t run as fast or as much as I used to and yet all my friends are out there doing it and I feel so resentful toward them. I shouldn’t be as mean and nasty as I’ve been to so many people around me and yet, I continue to do it every day. I can’t get a good night sleep so I’m constantly tired and instead of going to bed earlier, I just blame the husband who can fall asleep at the drop of a hat.

Do you ever have those moments where it seems like you are outside your own body watching what’s going on? That’s what this feels like. Consciously, I know what I’m doing. I’m literally screaming at myself to stop or shut up, to bite my tongue or walk away but I just don’t. Afterward, not only do I feel terrible, but then the guilt sets in and it’s a downward spiral of shame and doubt and self-loathing until the next wave of anger sets in.

I have all these plans. Big plans. Colossal plans that I want to begin to see into fruition, but I can’t do anything about them until the baby comes. Everyone around me is moving forward, reaching goals, working towards whatever it is that they want to achieve, and here I am stuck. I feel like I can’t do anything; make changes, move forward, anything, until this baby is born.

I’m sitting still and I hate sitting still.

I need to do something. The waiting place is a hard place to be. But I don’t have to make it harder.

Yesterday was a good day.

March 5, 2015 / Cassie / Leave a comment

“Running is like life, it’s a long journey, but well worth it.” ~Unknown

I needed yesterday. More than you know.

I woke up at 3:30 in the morning with the lovely pregnancy insomnia that has plagued me for weeks. It was also our first day without a delay or a day off in a week so the thought of working a full day was already tiring. When I couldn’t get back to sleep I decided just to get up and go for a run.

I hadn’t run in over a month and the entire month I felt off. February was rough. I had an extremely short temper with pretty much anyone that came in contact with me. I was angry, hostile, bitter. I felt like I hated the world. I felt like a terrible parent, a terrible wife, and a terrible friend. I blamed these feelings on the pregnancy and on the hormones, but really, what I think happened was that I just didn’t run.

Running has always been my therapy. As a kindergarten teacher and a mother, I don’t get much time to myself. Add pregnancy into the mix and most of the time that I had to myself had me being way too tired to do anything anyway.

I could tell you why I stopped for a month. I could tell you it was because the doctor recommended it (which she did, a least until 36 weeks), or because I was too busy, or because I was too tired. And for the most part all of these things are true. But the real reasons I stopped are far more shallow. I didn’t have a real goal to work towards to I slacked off. I got tired of seeing my mile times increase and increase some more. I got tired of seeing the scale go up incrementally.

So I stopped. I figured what’s the point. I would just sit around for the next few weeks and be lazy and grow a baby.

But what I’ve found is that I can’t stop. I need running. Like I need air. Like I need food. Like I need my family. I need it like my life depends on it. Because for all intents and purposes, it does.

So yesterday was important. Yes, I was more tired and sore than normal. But it didn’t matter. For the first time in a month I felt like me again. I felt positive. I felt ready. I felt alive.

So it’s time. It’s time to stop worrying about my time. It’s time to stopping thinking, period, and just run. Because you never know what amazing things lie on the horizon. And I know whatever they are, I can conquer them with my eyes wide open and my heart ready for anything.

Starting Over Yet Again

March 2, 2015 / Cassie / Leave a comment

“Life is tough, but so are you.” ~Unknown

Looking through old items on my phone a few days ago reminded me of just how tough last February was. I had just picked back up with my running and wasn’t impressed with my progress. It was very snowy and the kids and I were going stir crazy. I was an overly emotional wreck, which I chalked up to nothing and everything all at once.

Flash forward to this February…which hasn’t been much better. It’s been a month since I’ve run because I’m finding it close to impossible to run in the late stages of pregnancy. The weather hasn’t been that great and while I am enjoying my extra time off, I’m not enjoying my car continually needing work and the below zero temperatures that have kept us all indoors. And once again I have been an overall emotionally wreck, which, I wish I could chalk up to being super pregnant, but unfortunately I know that’s not the whole reason.

But now it’s a new month. With March comes the promise of sunnier days, *slightly* warmer weather, baby delivery, and simply a time of rejuvenation and starting over yet again.

I constantly feel like I’m starting over could be considered both a blessing and a curse. I have to keep starting over because in reality I keep failing. Promises and goals not kept, excuses constantly given, deals made and broken are all keeping me right where I deserve to be. I feel like I’m in a whole and I can can totally figure out how to get myself out of it, but I just don’t do it. I know it’s going to take work and discipline and self-sacrifice, but I am never consistent with any of these things.

On top of it all I really haven’t been able to run and it’s killing me. I use running as a form of therapy. It’s time for me to work out the problems in my head. It’s time for me to be alone (which is close to impossible when you are a Kindergarten teacher with a stay at home husband and two small children). It’s just a time for me to be completely and utterly myself and I haven’t had that in a while.

I understand, though, that the ability to start over is a blessing. Each new day gives me a chance to try my hand at my goals one more time. And each day I wake up thinking this is the day I’m going to make it work.

I need to stop making excuses. I need to readjust my goals until this baby comes. I need to readjust my goals period.

What do I want to accomplish? Who do I want to be? What do I want to do?

I need to process. I need time to think. I need to run.

Hello. My name is quitter.

November 24, 2014 / Cassie / Leave a comment

“Life is painful and messed up. It gets complicated at the worst of times, and sometimes you have no idea where to go or what to do. Lots of times people just let themselves get lost, dropping into a wide open, huge abyss. But that’s why we have to keep trying. We have to push through all that hurts us, work past all our memories that are haunting us. Sometimes the things that hurt us are the things that make us strongest. A life without experience, in my opinion, is no life at all. And that’s why I tell everyone that, even when it hurts, never stop yourself from living.” ~Alysha Speer

I’m feeling lost and have no idea how I am going to find myself again. I feel transient, almost as if I am actually just on the outside looking in. I used to feel so put together. I used to feel like I had a purpose. I used to feel whole. I used to know who I was and now I simply have no clue.

I’ve been feeling this way for a while. The more I try to think about why I’m feeling this way, the more confused and lost I feel.

It may have to do with being pregnant. I have to admit, when I first found out I was pregnant I wasn’t thrilled. I had recently found running and had based some of my identity on being a runner (albeit a slow one). I was really worried about how this was going to affect my running. I realize it didn’t have to, but I was so worried about the beginning stages of pregnancy, that I let it. I have almost completely stopped running and without the running my mood has quickly gone sour. I am complaining more. Quitting more. Whining more. Being pessimistic more. And I hate it.

I’ve been letting my role of “mother” take away from all the other roles I love to play: runner, inspirer, friend, wife. And the worst part is, I’ve been letting myself let myself. Yet, when I try to reverse this, when I try to get back to the way things are, I can’t.

It’s not that I don’t know how. I know exactly the steps I need to take. I know exactly what I need to do. But I don’t do it. I make plans. Then I can’t take the steps.

I know I need to get up and run. I just need to do it. And then my alarm goes off in the morning and I go back to sleep, knowing full well that I am going to hate myself in the morning, that I’m going to feel crappier than if I missed that hour of sleep due to running.

Just yesterday, my 3 year old asked me why I don’t go running anymore. Even he has noticed. Even he has seen the effects of my slacked attitude. It’s not just me. It’s not me being oversensitive to the situation.

I feel discouraged because I am so much slower now than I was. I felt like quitting when I realized I wasn’t getting faster, but slower instead. And instead of continually getting slower, I let myself quit altogether.

When I try to explain this to people, I usually get the “It’s ok, because you’re pregnant.” So I sigh and am inwardly happy that I have a “legitimate” excuse that I can use instead of what the real reason is: “I’m scared and I don’t want to fail more than I have so I simply won’t try.” I’m letting pregnancy be my excuse because it’s there, not because it’s the truth. I’m letting it be my excuse because to the outside world, it’s one that is allowed.

But to me it’s not. I’ve come to far to let this go. I’ve overcome heartache and muscle aches and sore everything and yet still kept going. I don’t want to resent my newest little because I quit and blamed it on being pregnant with her. I don’t want this to be who I am to her and the rest of my family. I don’t want this to be who I am, period.

I need to remember who I was. I need to find me again.

The Truth Will Set You Free

June 21, 2014 / Cassie / Leave a comment

“Let’s start at the very beginning. A very good place to start.” ~Maria (The Sound of Music)

While I may not always see myself that way, people have told me I am inspiring and motivating. Really, these are the best compliments I have ever gotten. If me getting my lazy butt off the couch helps someone else get moving, that is awesome. I tend to be an “over poster” on Facebook but I figured by starting another blog, a place where people can come to get inspired, it could help alleviate some of that traffic.

I’ve been trying to write this post for about a week now, but never seem to know how to start. As with most major life changes, starting always seems to be the problem. Running, writing, working out, completing projects…once I’m in the middle I know I’ll finish, but that’s only if I am able to get past “the starting”.

But here goes: my story.

I guess you could say it all began with a trip to Oregon. I was heading out there for an educational conference. At first I was excited. A trip to the West Coast with a bunch of friends from work and a few days off from the kids to go along with it. What’s not to love?

Then I remembered that I would have to take an airplane. Then I remembered I would have to fit into an airplane seat and buckle my seat belt. Then I remembered every single article I have ever come across about airlines who kick people off the plane for being too fat. Images of Kevin Smith came swimming to the forefront of my consciousness. Suddenly, I remembered that maybe I would miss my kids and I shouldn’t go after all.

I belonged to a gym, joined in some arbitrary moment of “I can do this!” but at that point my workouts consisted of the 3 minutes I could stand on the elliptical or treadmill and then 30 minutes on the sit down bike. Throw in a couple of easy strength exercises on the machines, and I thought I was actually accomplishing something. The fear of getting on the plane and being embarrassed in front of people I had to work with motivated me to do something I had never done before…buy a scale.

After searching for what seemed like hours at a K-mart next to the gym, I finally found one. I raced home, carried it up to the bathroom, and after ripping off every ounce of clothing and all hair accessories that could add weigh (I actually contemplated cutting my hair), I gingerly stepped on the scale.

331.

No, that is not a typo. That was the actual number. And while I didn’t want it to be true, I knew it was. I sat down on the bathroom floor and cried for about 10 minutes. How had it gotten this bad? How had I let myself get this far gone? Once I got control of myself, I got up, got dressed, and came up with a plan. That summer I worked my butt off and in two months (right before my flight) I had lost 20 pounds. I know that’s not a lot, but to me it was everything. It represented that I could actually do this.

Long story short, they didn’t kick me off the plane, though I did need a seat belt extender. But the heart wrenching fear I felt as I approached that first plane was probably the worst in my life. I didn’t sleep for nearly a week. I vowed that I would continue working out when I got home and would get myself to a healthy place.

And I did. For awhile. Until once again, life got in the way. That fall I worked out here and there, but nothing significant. Between two kids under 3, teaching kindergarten, and trying to be a good wife and mother, I never seemed to find time for the gym. Finally in January, after realizing I had gained back 12 pounds (bringing me back up to 321) a friend and I decided to sign up for the Y-fit challenge (the YMCA’s version of the biggest loser). And through that I fell in love with working out. I lost about 35 pounds, completed (walked) my first 5-K and began to gain back some of the confidence I so desperately needed.

And then, as most stories go, my world turned upside down. During the summer (on my last day of school) my dad died. We had a rather tumultuous relationship and hadn’t communicated in years. Because of this, I didn’t think his death would really affect me. But it did. In ways that I will never quite understand. And the gym took a back burner yet again. Luckily, I only gained about 5 pounds, but by the time school started again, I was a jumbled wreck. I didn’t know what was up or down or right or wrong. All I knew was that I needed something to change. I needed to be saved.

So I went for a run. And really, that is the true beginning of my story. Because on that day I was reborn. I learned that I can decide how my life is going to go. I am in charge of myself, my decisions, and my happiness. I can decide to begin to heal, and grow, and change for the better. And I did. Or, at the very least I’m in the process. In January, on the eve of my 33 birthday, I hit my 60 pound mark. And I’m still going.

Over the months I ran occasionally, went to the gym, got injured, and then began again and again. I started and stopped so many times that I can’t even keep track. The most important thing? Every time I stopped, I started again. I remember the first day I was able to complete one mile without stopping. I remember the first 5k I was able to completely run. Just recently I completed my first 10k.

I was looking back on old pictures today. Pictures from pre-kids, pictures from post-kids, pictures from last year, last week, last month and I can’t believe the difference. It’s not even just the weight, but the confidence, the happiness, the fact that there are more pictures now than there were before. These are all indicators that maybe this time is the right time. Maybe I’m finally exactly where I need to be.

Some days running feels so easy. Others, I want to die. I’m faster than I used to be, but still super slow. But I am a real runner. We all are. Even those that don’t run because the potential to run is in there.

And at 263 pounds I am currently running about 20 miles a week and training for my first half marathon in the fall. While I still have so far to go, I’ve never felt better. I’m ready to begin this new chapter in my life.

I had to start and stop, begin and end, give up and keep going, numerous times to get to this point.

But if I can do it, so can anyone. If I can do it, so can you.

Slow and steady…doesn’t win much of anything.

June 4, 2014 / Cassie / 1 Comment

“If you are going through hell, keep going.” ~Winston Churchill

For those of you who think I’m all rainbows and unicorns when it comes to my running. I’m just in a stage of freaking out right now. Can I run 6.2 miles? Yes. Can I do it fast? With my current slow ass time I am going to be in the bottom 20 (I NEED to stop looking at race results). And yet there is still a chance I will be dead last.

This is my current inner dialogue:

The insecure person in me:
You have no right running this. You can barely run 5K. This is in public. In a giant park with billions of people. And you are slow. Like not 12 minute mile slow, but like, legit slow. It’s ok to sit this one out. And just think about how embarrassing it will be for you to come in last. I bet only the old ladies with the walkers come in last. Hell, they’ll probably even beat you too. I bet they run out of medals and all you’re left with is a shirt and maybe a stale bagel.

The warrior woman in me:
That is fear talking. Sure, you might be last, but so what? Someone has to be last. And while no one plans it, who the hell cares. It’s a fact of life and you will not die if you are last. You will finish 6 freaking miles. Correction: 6.2 freaking miles. In one of the most awesome places in the country: Central Park. How many miles could you run 5 months ago? None. That’s right. Now you are up to 6. Think of how bad ass you will feel when you can no longer say you only run 5Ks. Stop thinking anyone cares. No one will laugh at you. If anything they are going to be proud and motivated by all you’ve accomplished.

Plain and simple, it’s all about the shoes.

May 10, 2014 / Cassie / Leave a comment

“Give a girl the right shoes, and she can conquer the world.” ~Marilyn Monroe

Today was a day for a long run. I was supposed to run 5 miles. I was tired, cranky, and had a head cold so I was worried that I wouldn’t even complete one. But at the prodding of my super supportive husband I laced up anyway and got out the door. After the first mile my shins were hurting. Then came the knees. Then a weird pain in my foot that I hadn’t felt before. I couldn’t understand why I had all these weird pains when I was running significantly slower than normal in order to complete all 5 miles. Then it hit me. It is time to change the shoes. Even though I had another pair waiting at home for me, I felt a sadness creep into my run. I thought maybe it was just the weird pains, but in the end I knew that wasn’t it. This was going to be my last time running in these shoes. And suddenly, 5 miles didn’t seem like too much. It seemed like not enough.

Before this attempt I had tried the running thing a few times before, each time in shoes that I bought from a department store or a random shoe store in the mall. I bought usually based on looks and what I thought the other “real” runners were wearing at the time…something that would make me look like a “real” runner even when I wasn’t.

During Christmas break my best friend came home for a visit. She is a “real runner”, multiple miles and Ks, marathons, etc., and yet talked to me like I was one too, even though I was only up to 2 miles at a time, even though I hadn’t run in a month. She told me how running isn’t ever easy, even for her. She gets the same pains I do, the same tiredness, the same foreboding feeling of running certain days. She suggested I try it again, and maybe this time, head to Charm City Run, a local running store, to find the best shoes for me.

I was always nervous to enter these stores because of the feeling of not being a “real runner” but everyone was so wonderful and personable and simply celebratory of everyone who is up and out there and doing something. After a few trials and a few runs on the treadmill, I finally settled on the Brooks Adrenaline GTS 14. I was skeptical because I had tried Brooks before but hated them.

But from that very first run in my Brooks, on the first day of 2014, I felt like I had met my soulmate. I was back to barely running a mile, but my shoes didn’t care. They were there for me every step of the way, literally. Every time I put them on it felt like coming home again. While I had run before (and stopped quite a few times) these were the shoes that saw me through running in snow storms, completing my first 5K without stopping to walk, completing my first 6K, running in the Color Run as a family (the first race for both my boys and my husband), and 2 pants sizes. These are the shoes I was wearing when I signed up for my first half-marathon before I could chicken out. These are the first shoes that chose me instead of me choosing them. These are the first shoes I bought with my ultra running best friend who inspires me each and every day to get up and run. These are the shoes that got me back where I need to be.

And while I know I have a new pair waiting in the closet, they will never be these shoes. The ones in the closet are worth $120. These ones are priceless and are literally filled with my blood sweat and tears.

Today was a day for a long run. I was supposed to do 5 miles. But instead, to celebrate my shoes, I did 6.2. My first unofficial 10K. These shoes literally took me from .75 miles to 6.2 miles in four and a half months. But really it’s more than that. They took me farther than I ever thought possible. They took me to a place where I am a better version of myself…and that can’t be measured in miles.

Grace Before Perfection

Mom. Teacher. Wanna-be most things. Lover of almost everything except talking on the phone. Oh, and I read a lot of books. Like an unhealthy amount.

running