Race Recap: Pinckney Trail Weekend

I have run half marathons, and I have run marathons, but I have never run both races in a single weekend.  When my husband, Jason, told me four months ago that he wanted to train for a marathon, we picked one and I set him up with a training plan.  But then when I actually went to sign up for the race, I discovered that this Sunday marathon also had a Saturday half marathon option.  After consulting my 50 mile training plan, I discovered that I needed close to that many miles anyway this weekend, and decided to sign up for the half AND full marathons.  This was called the "No Wimps" challenge, and hey, I am no wimp.

I stuck to my training plan and have been feeling much stronger than last year at this time, and I slowly began to tell people that I had registered for this race weekend.  People were slightly surprised when I mentioned that I'd be doing the half and full and several of them who had run this course told me that it was quite challenging.  I hadn't looked at the course or elevation profile, but these people were road runners-of course trails would be more challenging.  Right?

A few weeks out from the race weekend, I finally bit the bullet and checked out the course.  And it looked challenging.  We don't have many hills to run around here and even when I seek out some climbs, my runs usually only have 300-400 feet of gain over 20+ miles.  This isn't really ideal for the races I have planned this year, which is another reason I have filled my schedule with smaller, challenging trail races.  The half and full for this trail weekend was what I needed, even if I wasn't quite ready for that elevation.

So, on Saturday morning, I headed down to Pinckney, Michigan, for my first of two races: the half marathon.  It was cold and windy as we waited for the race to start, but there was no rain (and no snow!) so that was a plus, and I knew once we got in the woods we'd have a nice shield from the wind.  Racers huddled behind walls to block the wind until it was time to head to the start line.

There were over 500 people running this half marathon, and on a single track course, that made it crowded.  We were running pretty much toe to heel the entire time, with the occasional runner who would come from nowhere, shout "ON YOUR LEFT" and fly by through the leaves and branches on the sides of us.  After a couple miles, I settled in behind a guy who was running at a pace I was comfortable with.  The hills were somewhat steep, but they were short, and most of them went right back down after the climb.  As the miles went on, I began to wonder about this guy in front of me and after seven miles, I got up the courage to talk to him.  It turned out he was running the half marathon and 50k on Sunday and was training for the Mohican 100 in June.  I'll be there running the 50, so we had a common bond.  I followed him until about Mile 11.5, and then it seemed he was slowing down and I wanted to pick up the pace to head for the finish.  I thanked him for his leadership for the majority of my race and went on my way.

I took some pictures and some funny videos and I think this one is a good representation of my day.  Smiles and waves and camaraderie out there with fellow trail runners. 

My quads were feeling a little sore from the climbs and descents, but I nearly sprinted that last mile and a half.  It was a race, afterall, and I wanted to just let loose.  I crossed the finish line in 2:15:37, a respectable time for a trail half marathon, and I was feeling confident about the full marathon the next day.

I'd like to tell you that I went straight home and put my feet up, but that wasn't the case.  I drove the 1.5 hours home, showered, made a taco salad, and headed to a friend's family birthday party for the next four hours.  After that, we dropped the kids off at Nana and Grandpa's for the night, and I went home to soak in the tub.  After that, I had some fabulous pizza and watched a little Netflix, drank a beer and went to bed.  That 4:30am wake-up call was going to be a little tough after the day I had had.

Once again, I headed to Pinckney, this time with Jason.  I knew this was going to be a tough course for him as his first marathon, but I kept things positive.  We had some friends running the 50k and the 5 miler, and it was so nice to meet up with them on this chilly morning!

My quads were a little sore after the previous day's race, but I was ready to get things started.  I knew I'd be going at a more conservative pace on this second day, and I planned to follow Jason and take in the sights.  After a few crowded miles, it was clear I'd just have to run my own race.  Jason had taken off with a pack of runners and I had no way of sticking with them. 

By Mile 8, the course thinned out a bit and for some reason, I hit a low point.  It was so early in the race and I was feeling more than a little discouraged.  At Mile 9, I decided to grab some Coke and a cookie and then forged onward.

Close to Mile 11 I was feeling a bit better, and when I paused to let a few faster runners pass, I noticed a familiar face among them.  He didn't know me, but I knew him.  Many years ago, when I was pregnant with my youngest daughter, I would go to the gym and slowly walk on the treadmill.  Most days, this man would come in to run FOREVER on the next treadmill, and he would quickly draw a small crowd.  Over the months, I would listen to him tell stories of a big race he was training for called Western States.  I didn't even know a race like this existed!  100 miles?  Of running?  All at one time?  Who was this guy?  I was fascinated.  And highly intimidated.  And I wasn't a runner.  Running was TERRIBLE!  Since becoming a runner, it seems I see him everywhere. At the grocery store, walking in town, biking past my house.  I had never gotten up the courage to talk to him, but today I did.  I said, "Hey, I know you!  You live in my town!"  And over the next 2.5 miles I told him how I knew about his Western States run and that I was training for my first 100 miler and I would love any advice he could offer.  He told me the best thing I could do was to learn to run the downhills.  And then he said, "Follow me" and took off like a shot down a steep hill.  So I did.  And it was amazing.  We did it again, and again.  I don't think 2.5 miles of a race have ever flown by so fast.  That was just the pick-me-up I needed.  I thanked him and went on my way. 

And then, as I passed through the start/finish on my way to the second loop, there was my friend, Jessica, smiling and cheering and taking photos of me and then she ran up and gave me the most delicious white chocolate macadamia cookie I have ever had and wished me luck on the second half of my race.  That's what friends are for, right there!

I hadn't seen Jason in miles, but I figured since he wasn't at the finish area that he must've headed out for the second loop.  The next few miles were very quiet, but it was a gorgeous day and the trails were so peaceful with the runners finally spread out and I just took in the sights.

At the next aid station, I fueled up and of course I had to take my token "orange smile" pic for the archives.  I grabbed a couple more snacks and headed on down the trail.

Around Mile 16, I hadn't seen another runner in quite some time, when I caught a glimpse of grey and black ahead of me.  It was Jason.  I didn't think I'd catch up to him, but when I did, he wasn't in great shape.  His IT band was giving him trouble, as it had in all of his longer training runs, and he had a pretty good limp going on. I gave him some Motrin and a salt cap and told him we were going to walk the uphills, jog the flats, and get down the declines as fast as possible.  We had less than ten miles to go and we had to get it done.

After a couple more miles, I could tell he was feeling a bit better and we got into a good rhythm.  We made it to the Mile 22.5 aid station and when a guy in a kilt cracked open a PBR for us, we did not say no!  I've come to know that ice cold beer at Mile 23 of marathons are one of the greatest things ever.  At this point, we knew we were both going to be marathon finishers, so we grabbed a couple more snacks and hit the trail for the final few miles. 

My quads were screaming at me on the downhills those last few miles, but I told them to shut up.  I had done it.  39.3 miles in two days on a tough course.  And I knew if I had more miles to go, I could've done it.

As we neared to finish line, I sent Jason on to get his big finish.  He had worked hard the past four months, training in the dark before work and in snowy and cold conditions and it was time for his reward.  I crossed shortly behind him and we were both surprised to learn that we had placed in our age groups.  We definitely had something to be proud of.  We had both persevered and we completed what we set out to do. 

After scarfing some cheesy bread given out at the finish line, we headed home for showers (is there anything better than a post race shower?!) and grabbed some dinner before heading to pick up the kids.  I think Nash was happy to see me...

Oh, and then?  The day was not quite over because I'm also a softball coach for my oldest daughter, and we had a practice to get to.  Mom life never ends, you know?  And really, there's no place I'd rather be.  As final reward for a weekend to remember, I discovered that those sunsets I love so much are back. 

I love trail racing for the adventure, but I also love it for those little moments.  A smile, a high-five, flowers peeking up through the leaves, turtles splashing into ponds when I run by, a woodpecker pecking in the distance, words of encouragement from a passing runner.  I love that the peaks are windy and chilly and the valleys are warm and damp.  I love the stories other runners tell as they fall into step with you for a mile or two.  I love that we are all out there for those very same reasons.  There is nothing like a trail race weekend that  can leave your body totally depleted and your heart totally full.  Races like these are what keeps my fire burning.

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.

Race Recap: The Marine Corps Marathon Edition

Originally posted on October 24, 2017

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This story actually begins way back in April of this year. I hopefully had thrown my name into the Marine Corps Marathon lottery and on April 27th, I got my answer: I was IN. First things first, I had another marathon in two days to run. And then I had another one in May. Oh, and then a 50 miler in June. And then a 50k in July. THEN, I'd start my preparations for my D.C. marathon. Once I had all of those races finished, I made my plan and ran my miles. With about a month to go, I had a weekend of fun running planned: Ragnar Michigan. The weekend was a blast with some great teammates and it was just what I needed to get me excited for my final race of 2017. After booking a hotel near the start line, I opted to wait to find a hotel for Friday night until the weekend got closer. I had received all of my info from MCM, and there was one thing looming that I dreaded. The map of Washington D.C. and surrounding cities with its metro system was overwhelming, and I decided my van would be my mode of transportation instead of this scary puzzle.

 Finally it was here: RACE WEEK. I had put in my training miles, made my travel plans, packed my suitcase, booked a cheap hotel in Frederick, MD for Friday night, and there was nothing left to do but mildly freak out. And I kind of did. I was a little bit nervous to be traveling alone so far from home and I wasn't exactly sure how I was going to get to the race early Sunday morning. Friday came, and after dropping Nash off at school, I was off. Road trip time! In just two short days, I'd be RUNNING WITH THE MARINES!

 On my trip east, I made sure to hydrate well and, of course, I had brought along a Nerds Rope, which is my favorite pre-race road trip treat.

 After an eight hour drive from Michigan, through Ohio and Pennsylvania, I arrived in Frederick to my hotel. And it was creepy. I had no choice but to go in, so I loaded up everything I would need for the night, checked in quickly, got to my hotel room and LOCKED THE DOOR. My original plan was to check in and then go grab a bite to eat, but there was no way I was going out after dark alone in my current location. So, I opted for pizza delivery and had a little "party for one" in my room.

 In the morning, I woke up and quickly got ready to go. My next destination was the Gaylord Convention Center for the race expo. After crossing the Potomac River and heading down into National Harbor, I arrived at the Expo. I joined the thousands of others also picking up their race gear and was pleasantly surprised that instead of regular race volunteers handing out bibs, the entire welcome committee was ALL Marines! How cool to receive your race bib and a good luck wish from these men and women! I didn't stick around too long because I wanted to go check out D.C. on this gorgeous, sunny day. It took me over an hour to travel the 15 miles into the city, and after having my van thoroughly searched before entering the Ronald Reagan parking garage, I was free to roam. I didn't want to exhaust myself before race day, but I figured walking a few miles would do me some good. I headed towards the Washington Monument and then checked out the awesome WWII memorial site, along with a few other places around The Mall.

 I had been to D.C. when I was younger, but I never had the chance to just walk around. I didn't know beforehand, but most of the museums in Washington D.C. have free entry, which is amazing. I was near the National Museum of American History and decided to check it out. After going through a few exhibits, I came upon a special event-live music tucked back into a corner of the museum. There was an early American folk band playing and I sat and listened to them for quite a while. When they wrapped up their set, I headed back outside. I sat for a long time in a small park and watched an albino squirrel entertain passersby.

 Then I decided I'd head to my hotel in Alexandria to check in. I was getting a slight headache, so I figured I'd go get my things ready for the morning and then find someplace for an early dinner. A couple of hours later, I had everything laid out for my 3:45am alarm and I was getting hungry and my headache was getting a little worse. I found a nearby restaurant and ordered a Coke, hoping to diffuse my now pounding head. I nibbled on my salad and when my meal came, I took two bites and a wave of nausea hit me. I thought I was going to be sick at the table! I flagged down my waiter and asked for a to-go box, paid my bill, and nearly sprinted out of the place. When I got to my car, I thought I could make it the short distance back to my hotel, but my stomach had other plans. I ended up pulling to the side of the road and throwing up REPEATEDLY into a bag in my car. OH NO. This was not a small amount; this was the entire contents of my stomach from the entire day. All of my food and water, gone. And the race was in less than 12 hours. OH NO! My head was still raging, but I made it back to my room where I started to panic. I took a bath and then managed to hold down some popcorn and as much water as I could drink. I knew this would not bode well the night before a marathon.

 I fell asleep before 9pm and slept straight through until 3am. Six hours of sleep the night before a race?! Unheard of! After getting myself ready and packing my bags, I headed to Crystal City. This was where I'd presumably find a shuttle to take me to the start line at the Pentagon. I arrived early enough to make it on to one of the first shuttles, and crammed as much as I could into my little running pouch for the race. I sat and chatted on the bus with a man from Omaha and talked about races and kids and such and soon enough, we were at the Pentagon parking lot. After a short, chilly walk, we arrived in Runners Village. I headed towards a big tent where some people were gathering and parked myself in a chair. It was only 5:30am and the race start was still 2.5 hours away. I quickly learned that the tent I was in was home to a church service that morning for the runners. At 6am a few hundred of us sat and listened to a military chaplain give a short sermon and to my delight, the song of choice was "How Great Thou Art", one of my all-time favorites.

 When the service ended I took the opportunity to hit the restrooms before they got overcrowded. I was slowly getting colder and colder with nothing to do, and was highly jealous of people wearing pajama pants and bathrobes! I found a place to sit and managed to curl my legs up tight enough to squeeze them inside my Walmart $6 sweatshirt that I planned on leaving behind at the starting line. And there I sat for nearly an hour, trying to stay warm until it was time to head into the starting corrals.

 When the masses began herding towards the start, I followed. I headed up to the 4 hour time start, even though I knew I'd be taking my time with this race-I didn't want to miss a thing! I made friends with a lady named Robin from Toronto, and we chatted until it was time for the National Anthem. As the song was sung, eight marines jumped from a plane overhead and landed, one by one, right next to the starting line. It was impressive to see how quickly they approached the ground and then to see them land with such grace!

 And then, along with thousands of other runners-runners from all 50 states, and 60 countries around the world, every branch of our military, team members from Team RWB, TAPS, Semper Fi, Autism Speaks, Team Beef (complete with cowbells), plus wheelchairs and hand cyclists-it was time to GO.

 I tossed my sweatshirt to the side, (the Marines wash, fold and donate all items) and heard the starting gun go off! Here we go! The first mile was a little chilly, but soon enough my jitters had subsided and I started to warm up. The first few miles were slightly uphill, but I was enjoying the course and taking in the sights. Upon arriving at the first aid station, I was once again surprised to find that all of the volunteers were Marines! Throughout the course, Marines were offering Gatorade, water, Vaseline, gummy bears, animal crackers and orange slices. It seemed a little funny to be to be accepting these things from these men and women in uniform.

 After and out-and-back portion from miles six through nine, we headed down along the edge of the Potomac River. And then, we were there. The Blue Mile. The Blue Mile is one of remembrance for fallen service members. The course was lined with photographs labeled with names and ages and dates these men and women gave their lives in the ultimate sacrifice. I had tears in my eyes coming through this section, and when I reached a tunnel of U.S. flags held by family members of the fallen, I completely lost it. I don't know if you know this, but it is REALLY hard to run when you're sobbing.

 After Mile 13, I was still feeling pretty good, taking in the scenic views along the river. Soon, though, my quads started to ache. Uh-oh. By the time I got to Mile 16 and had passed several more monuments, my back seized up. Double uh-oh. I tried to remain in good spirits. After all, I had come all this way and I was currently running past the U.S. Capitol building!

 By Mile 20, nothing from the waist down was cooperating. I guess this is what happens when you puke out all of your food and water the day before a marathon. It hurt to run and it hurt to walk, but forward is forward and I kept going. The sun was blazing hot by that time, and I couldn't wait to find some shade.

 Throughout the race, I passed and was passed by several hand cyclists. It's hard to complain inside your head when you're watching a military double-amputee hand cycle on a hilly course for 26.2 miles. Also in attendance were many parents and friends pushing wheelchairs holding their sons and daughters and loved ones while running the entire marathon. It didn't seem right to walk when I had nothing to carry but myself. Check out those hills and climbs!

 Passing the 26 Mile marker, there were several Marines yelling, informing us that around the next turn we'd see the finish. What they didn't tell us was that there was also a hill around that corner. And it wasn't just any hill, it was straight up. Lining both sides of the course were many Marines, cheering and yelling at us to "RUN, DON'T WALK! FINISH STRONG! RISE TO THIS FINAL CHALLENGE!", and I don't think anyone out there wanted to let down these Marine men and women. We ran. And it hurt. But then, there was the finish! The crowd was enormous and everyone was cheering for everyone. As I came across the finish line and looked ahead, there was a sea of Marines, each of them holding medals for the runners. It's a strange feeling, receiving medal for running just a marathon from someone who has committed their life to protecting yours. And they were all amazing. They were so proud to see us finish this race, to complete our mission, and we were proud to run with them and be among their greatness.

 After staggering through the finish area, I remembered something: Brooks Running was offering bacon. They had made 600 pounds of bacon for the finishers and I wanted some badly. I collected my bacon, along with a nifty little box of goodies from the Marines, and collapsed on the grass. I'm pretty sure that was the best bacon I've ever had.

 After a few minutes, I got to my feet. My day wasn't over just yet. I still had to figure out where to get on the shuttle back to my van. After trekking up a steep hill unappreciatively, I managed to find my bus. I was joined by a man from New Jersey and we once again talked about races and kids and soon enough I was back to where I had started that morning.

 But my day still wasn't over yet. I had a nine hour drive ahead of me. Who runs a marathon in D.C. and then drives back to Michigan the same day?! This girl. I gave myself a disgusting wet wipe shower in the back of my van, changed out of my horrendously gross running gear and hit the road.

 I'm not sure how, but I managed to stop just once along the way for a slice of pizza and some gas, and those last two hours in the van were pretty sketchy, but I made it home just before 1am. I think the drive home might have taken as much mental strength as the marathon! I promptly took a much needed shower, brushed my teeth and passed out in bed.

 This experience is one I won't soon forget. And although I find inspiration in all of my races, this race held extra special meaning. Most of the time, unless you're in a military family, we don't see these great men and women who protect us. And in this day and age, it can be easy to forget that we are lucky to live in this great country. This is the home of the free, because of the brave, and I will forever be honored to have had the chance to run with them and experience their greatness firsthand. OORAH!