A Journey of 10,000 Miles

In the Spring of 2009, pregnant with my fourth child, each morning I'd drop my two oldest kids off at school, check my third child in to the gym child care, and I'd climb on the elliptical machine for my twenty minute exercise.  Every day was the same.  And it was boring.  I'd watch the same gym patrons come and go every day, lifting their weights, walking on the treadmills or riding the stationary bikes.  But there was one man who stood out.  He'd spend three or four hours there, alternating treadmills, changing paces and incline and even walking backwards on them.  I found myself turning down my music blaring through my headphones to hear his conversations with people who stopped to chat with him during his workouts.  He talked of his plans of running 100 miles.  All at once.  Was this something people actually did?  He was training for a run in the western states, through the mountains.  And I didn't know it then, but he was talking about THE Western States-The Western States 100 Mile Ultramarathon.  And I was fascinated.  I mean, I wasn't a runner.  Heck, I had no desire to run ONE mile, let alone run 100, but the way he described the race and his plans and his training intrigued me.  It sounded like the most epic adventure imaginable.

And then, I was a mom of four.

And then, three years after that, I was a mom of five.

With the birth of my fifth child, I had either been pregnant or breastfeeding for the last ten years straight.  And while I loved the time I had given my children and the sacrifices I had made to be a stay-at-home mom, it was time to take a little bit of myself back.  In December of 2012, I accepted a challenge given to me to train for and run a five mile race the following Memorial Day.  But I didn't start with running.  I couldn't start with running.  At six weeks post-partum and weighing in at 200 pounds, I had a long way to go.  I chose the Insanity workout program.  And it was horrible.  I couldn't do half of the moves and I definitely couldn't keep up with those happy, sweating, ripped people staring back at me from my television.  But I stuck with it for the entire 60 days.  And in the end, it was worth it.  I had lost 35 pounds, gained a lot of muscle, and was feeling much more confident about myself.

But now it was March, and my five mile race date was looming.  So, on March 24, 2013, while on vacation in Florida, I laced up my shoes and headed out for a two mile run.  AND I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DIE.  Forget the two miles.  By a half mile into that run, I had to stop and catch my breath.  And then at the one mile mark, I didn't know how I was going to make it back to my starting point.  Every step was a struggle.  And when I finally finished my two mile run, nearly 25 minutes later, I didn't feel accomplished.  I felt defeated.

I ran again the next day.  And the next day.  And the next day.  In fact, I ran two miles every day that week.  And every run was terrible.  My lungs burned.  It was not fun.  But I had agreed to that five mile race and I wasn't about to call it quits.  So I kept running.  I was counting the days until the race, not out of excitement, but because after the race was over I wouldn't have to run anymore.

And then I ran the race.  And it wasn't terrible.  I mean, having to run was terrible, but the race was fun!  And I got a medal and delicious food afterwards.  Maybe I'd do one more race.  So I did.  In fact, I ran a bunch of 5k's.  And I met some other runners-I had never known anyone who was a runner.  When my parents suggested Jason and I go to Las Vegas that November to run a half marathon, I laughed.  And then I thought about it.  That could be cool, right?  So I trained.  A lot.  I didn't really know what I was doing-I'd spend  week working on adding mileage and the next week working on speed.  I'd alternate that back and forth and gradually my runs got longer and my pace got faster.  A month before Vegas I decided to run a local half marathon just to make sure I could do it.  I didn't want to get all the way to Nevada and then not be able to run 13.1 miles.  So, in October, 2013, I ran a half marathon.  And it was HARD.  And when it was over, I stood near the finisher's mat and I cried.  And then I couldn't wait to do it again.  Bring on Las Vegas!

After that, I ran another half marathon.  And another and another.  And then there was a local 20 mile race I was interested in, so I ran that.  And then I figured if I could run a twenty miler, I should probably run a full marathon.  So, 15 months after I had started running, I ran a marathon.  And again, I cried at the finish line.  And I couldn't wait to do it again.

That Winter I was invited by a friend to a group trail run.  I had never run on trails, let alone on snow-covered trails, but I showed up ready to run ten miles that day.  As we headed out, on a skinny single-track trail, I was huffing and puffing up a steep incline.  I couldn't help but overhear the men talking behind me.  The had all run  100 mile races that Fall and were telling their stories. And this time, instead of thinking they were crazy, I was jealous.  I wanted that kind of adventure, but clearly, I had miles to go before that could happen.

The next couple of years I continued my journey-a couple marathons a year, with a few half marathons thrown in here and there.  And then, after I ran the Chicago Marathon in 2015, an internet friend suggested I run a trail 50k with her.  At first I thought she was crazy, but the more I thought about it, the more couldn't STOP thinking about it.  So I signed up.  And then she changed her mind.  By then it was too late, though, so I traveled to Southern Indiana alone and stayed in a cabin with seven perfect strangers and woke up early the next morning and ran three loops through some small mountains in a forest covered with thick frost and completely tested my physical and mental limits and crossed the finish line with absolutely nothing left in me and all I felt was HOME.  These were my people and this was my thing.  And I couldn't wait to do it again.

Since then, I have run two more 50k races and a 50 mile race, among other  smaller races.  I have run on pavement, on trails, on sandy beaches, over a few mountains, in snow, in ice, in shin-deep mud, in pouring rain, in 40MPH winds, in subzero temperatures, in 95 degree heat, in high humidity covered with back flies, in the mornings before the sun rises, and at night when my children are asleep.

I used to say that I loved to run because I really, really love food. And I have to admit that running has definitely given me a body to be proud of.  I never wanted to "look good for having five kids."  I always wanted to look good because I took care of myself and made good choices and I wanted to be a role model for my children.  Insanity may have helped me shed my baby weight, but running is what transformed me.

And while I love the physical part that running has played in my life, the mental benefits are even greater.  Running really does keep me sane, and I am thankful that my family understands that.  I can solve a lot of conflict inside my head with a good, long run.  I have laughed and cried and wanted to quit more than a few times, but you know what brings me back?  The adventure.  Every run is different.  Even the same four mile route two days in a row isn't the same.  There is always a new face, or a new discovery, or a new idea created.  And those days that I've wanted to quit?  Well, they haven't won.  Even when I am completely defeated and it's pouring rain and I feel like I can't take another step and I've been gone so much longer than I had planned and my family comes out to the road to look for me and they find me stumbling home, carrying my pack instead of wearing it, I have still won.  I am still out there, fighting and getting it done.

I have seen deer, dogs, sheep, kittens, llamas, turkeys, ducks, geese, snakes, raccoons, chickens, groundhogs, opossum, cows, hawks, eagles, and even a rare Bigfoot sighting.

All told, I have run over 60 races in 8 different states.  I have worn 25 different pairs of shoes, and have listened to 55 audiobooks and countless podcasts.  I have run with groups of people and told my famous stories of poop and races I can only dream of running.



And today?  Today I ran my 10,000th mile.  In some ways, it happened in a blink. In other ways, it has taken a lifetime to get here.  It's hard to comprehend, right?  Ten thousand miles with my FEET.  To put it in perspective, that's like going from Flint, Michigan to Melbourne, Australia, across the entire United States and the Pacific Ocean, and still having another 120 miles or so to go.

It really has been an adventure.  The breathtaking places I have seen and the real, genuine people I have met and had the honor to run miles will be with me forever.  The past five years have been unforgettable, and I have no intentions of slowing down or stopping.  This year I have big plans.  You know those crazy 100 mile races people run?  This year is MY year.  In November, I'll be there at the start of the Chattanooga 100.  Next winter, I'll be the one telling my tale of an epic 100 mile journey.  My adventure awaits.

Here's to my next 10,000 miles.