The Quintiles Wrightsville Beach Marathon

Last Friday afternoon Jaime, the kids and I loaded into the minivan and made the 350 mile trek across the state to the coast. Marathon weekend had finally arrived! The drive, which has been known to take us anywhere from 5.5 -10 hours wasn't too bad but we left later than usual to avoid driving on the day before the race and didn't get into town until 10:30 Friday night. The kids were a crazy mess and didn't get to sleep until after midnight. Saturday was spent trying to calm any pre-race jitters by soaking up the 70+ degree temperatures and shopping with my mom. That night we went to bed very early only to sleep very little. I was SO nervous. Not really nervous but my brain was racing about everything that I was about to do the next day. Aside from never having run 26.2 miles in my life, I was just excited. So excited that I had made it so far. I almost switched to the half marathon so many times over the last 16 weeks. I was so sick of running and training and living, eating, sleeping, breathing and talking about the marathon. I have three kids who demand my full attention and totally wear me out on a daily basis. My knee was messed up at one point and just 5 days before the race I was overtaken by a debilitating stomach flu situation that left me wondering if I even could run. But if I'm being completely honest with myself, I was never going to quit. Even if I really, really wanted to because I've never quit anything. Its just not my style. So there I was, laying in bed freaking out because my life was about to become even more awesome and soon it would all be over and I could finally stop thinking about it. Here we are at 4am on race morning:

We got dressed and went downstairs at Jaime's parents house to find a super sweet Irish Breakfast and well wishes. I was so anxious I paced around a bit and tried to eat some cranberry bread while chugging coffee. 

We drove over to the finish line and parked the car. I told Jaime to find the closest parking place he could so we wouldn't have to walk at all afterwards. Always thinking ahead! Then we took a bus over to the start line at Wrightsville Beach Park where they had a DJ and flashing lights. Being that it was 6am it was still really dark but the adrenaline pulsing through the air was contagious. Here we are just before lining up.

The goal I set for myself during training was four hours, thirty minutes. Oprah ran a 4:31 and I'm in way better shape than her. And again with the honesty: I set 4:30 as my goal so I wouldn't be disappointed. In my head I was really thinking I'd do 4:15. I mean, I'd been training in the mountains for four months in freezing temps and I was about to run at the beach, on flat ground in 60 degree weather. Piece. Of. Cake. Still, I wanted to pace myself so I didn't burn out early, so I got with the 4:30 pace group and planned to stay with them for 20 miles... At which point, if I felt like it, I'd leave and race (hahaha) 10K to the finish. This all sounds so funny now. So yeah, Jaime and I took off with Stephenie the pace group girl and it felt great. And SO slow. The course was really easy and the weather couldn't have been better. You couldn't have asked for better conditions for your first marathon. It was just perfect. We talked and laughed and pretty much forgot we were running for the first 13 miles. The half marathoners turned to finish and we set out for another loop. If I HAD switched to the half I would have killed it. 13.1 miles felt like 5K that day. We were still on pace and still laughing. Around mile 15 Jaime told me to leave. Wait, what? He said he just wanted to take it easy. My sweet husband signed up to run with me just two weeks after the Biltmore Marathon from hell and had run exactly zero times since. I thought about hanging back but knowing him better than I know myself, when he says go, ya better go. So I left. I stayed with the pace group for 7 more miles and ran all the way to the 22 mile marker without walking. When we turned into Landfall the second time I started to feel bad. Tired deep inside my bones and like I was going to pee on myself if I took one more step. So I ran into the woods and tried to pee but nothing happened! AGH! Deciding I was too nervous to pee on the side of the road in the Wilmington's fanciest community I ran to the next PortAJohn. I sat down to pee and nothing happened. WTF? Then I couldn't get back up. My legs were like yo, you just ran 22 miles, we are gonna take a break now. But it smelled so bad in there that I somehow stumbled out and started walking. The pace group was long gone. I started doing mental math and decided that I could walk the whole way back and still make it. Also, I was hoping to see my husband at some point, so I kept walking and I walked all the way to mile 24. At that point the only thing that separated me and the finish line was 2.2 miles and I was back on the main road that was full of spectators. I dug deep inside of myself and took off. I'm pretty sure those last two miles were my fastest of the whole race. I crossed the finish line in 4:52:25 and felt like I won. Seriously, it was amazing. It was SO HARD and I did it. My brain was mush and my legs were worse. I hugged family and cheered on Jaime who came in a few minutes later.

I totally underestimated that distance. Even on the easiest course, on the prettiest day ever, 26.2 miles is still a really long way to run. Wow. That's all I can say. WOW! Does life get any better? I never thought I could feel so good.

After the race, we posed for pictures:

Went out for drinks: 

Ate fried food: 

And then went to bed around 4pm... 12 hours after we started the day. Who knew your whole life could change in 12 hours? WOW.

1 Marathon Down, 1 to go.

Back in October Jaime signed up for the inaugural Asheville Marathon that would take place on March 3rd entirely on the grounds of the Biltmore Estate. He had completed a marathon the year before in just over 4 hours in Greenville, SC on a super charged training schedule (READ: he ran all the time for about 5 weeks). He was excited to have more time to train this time around and to be a part of Asheville's very first marathon. Now, I love my husband. He works ridiculously long hours and controls every bit of finance that goes into and out of North Carolinas largest retirement community. And he works even longer hours being a father of three children. I haven't given Josiah or Oliver a bath in over a year. Seriously, how many other Mama's can say that? So, it wasn't exactly fair when the first thought that popped into my mind upon hearing the 26.2 news was: Another Marathon? Didn't you already do that? Great. Guess I'll be alone on Saturdays for the next 4 months. See? I'm a terrible wife. Also, going through my brain was the fact he was working on number two and I had yet to do one. Guess I'd just sign up for my SIXTH half marathon and look at the ground every time someone asked if I'd done a marathon. Because honestly, I didn't really want to do a marathon. It's way too far and the first guy who did it died. But it seems like it is the ultimate frosting on a runners cake. If you want to claim to be serious, you need that 26.2. And if Jaime was going to spend 4 hours every weekend and a few days per week running, so was I. I mean, in the last 5 years I've grown, birthed out and nursed three children. Marathon? No problem.

I signed up for the Wrightsville Beach Saint Patricks Day Marathon and even claimed it as my Christmas present. Then I did what I knew I couldn't do if I ever wanted to quit. I set my facebook status to say: "Just signed up for the WB marathon!" You see, now that it was in facebook land there was no turning back. No way was I going to have some random acquaintance ask how my marathon went and tell them I'd actually quit. And the rest is basically history. Except history was an actual pain in the ass. Our family wasn't at home together in the morning AT ALL for 16 weeks. M-F Jaime was working. Saturday I was running, Sunday he was running. Rinse and Repeat. For real, neither one of us missed a single run the whole time. Even on a Saturday morning when I had a ridiculous stomach bug, I rallyed and ran a half marathon on Sunday instead. The winter, the sickness, a messed up knee, a baby, 3 year old and a 4 year old... nothing got in the way of running.  Can we be congratulated for having the strength of a Bengal tiger to endure such a rigorous and outrageous schedule? Yes. Could we be diagnosed with an actual DSMIV crazy person problem? Most likely. But here we are, March 4th and Jaime just completed his marathon yesterday morning. Look at how cute he is:



We have been training all winter and most of my runs were done really early when it was still 30-40 degrees. Jaime's were too and we were used to it. I mean, we do live in the mountains and it is winter after all. No use complaining about it. Still, yesterday was COLD. I think the coldest it has been all year. And the wind was insane. I think I saw somewhere that the stats for the race were; 22 degrees, 30 MPH winds and a  wind chill factor of 8 degrees. Yes, we live in the mountains at winter but this the still the South. Sheesh! Was God just mad at us for skipping so much church during our training? Because that just didn't seem fair. My plan of spectating the whole thing got kinda crazy with freezing, crying children so we just hung in the tents waiting for Jaime to finish. The guy who won was carried into our heat tent at one point with ice in his beard and eventually was taken to the hospital for hypothermia. I would totally have to go to the hospital too if I ran 2:45 marathon so he shouldn't feel bad. I'm sure he's fine and most likely out running somewhere right now. Anyway, we were waiting a long time for Jaime I got worried and started thinking that he'd frozen to death, or that his skinny ass blew away. I'm such a rational thinker. When I finally saw him come around the corner I was so proud of him! I ran up to him and said, "How you doing?! You ok?" and he was like, "I'm good. How YOU doin?" and then he ran off and that was that. Another marathon in the books. 

Now, I don't ever like to take the easy way out on stuff, really, I love a challenge. But I have never been happier that my marathon is at Wrightsville Beach in the flat land of sun and surf. I'm also thrilled that my superhero husband is running (again!) with me for the WHOLE 26.2 miles. Hey Josiah, Oliver and Corinne where are your mom and dad? Oh, they're just out running a marathon. How cool are our kids parents?

So, 13 more days until I can officially be called a marathoner too. I can't wait. And I really can't wait to have my weekends back with the four people I love more than anything in the whole world. Even more than running.

Our Valentines Day in Pictures

Yesterday, my husband surprised me via email and told me that he was planning to take off on Valentines Day and our itinerary would be as follows: Drop off the kiddos at preschool, go for a run, brunch at Tupalo Honey, shopping at Lululemon, pick up the kids, go for a hike, have a picnic at the Biltmore, put the kids to bed and kick back with champagne and netflix.

                  

How sweet is that? Can you believe that this is our 12th Valentines together and he is still so into it? I am a lucky lady. And the day pretty much went just like that.

We had a quick 6 mile run and then a super yummy breakfast at Tupalo with our sweet girl.

After that we headed to Lululemon and I had a pretty woman moment and tried on everything in the store.

I finally decided on a neon green run swiftly tank for my Saint Patty's Day marathon and a hot pink pace setter skirt. It made every mile run, every morning I gave up sleeping in and every bit of frostbite I endured

all worth it. An outfit shouldn't give you power, but this one does.

 After we picked up the kids we drove over to the Biltmore and went on a hike. Just before the sun went down we feasted on Subway

 played in the water

 and did yoga on the mountaintop.

 As I am typing all of this out Jaime is upstairs bathing all three kids and getting them ready for bed. Did I mention that he's awesome? Happy Love Day y'all!

Xo

Keeping the Faith

This past November the Conley Family started going to church. And not just on Christmas and Easter, but other Sundays too. We have been church shopping for some time and have yet to find a place where we belong. We are an interesting bunch, a whole lotta hippy mixed in with a little bit of tradition. What I mean is that I don't fit inside the doors of any place that is going to use the Bible or God to be mean or discriminatory. Also, I respect that there are about 1.5 billion Muslims in the world, 14 million Jews (including Jesus, right?) and a whole bunch of other religions ranging from Buddhism to Hinduism to Tom Cruise. Christianity only makes up about 30%  percent of the worlds beliefs. You see, I graduated from UNCA and in order to receive that Liberal Arts stamp on my diploma (made out of patchouli) they simply insist that there is a big world out there and that you better respect it. Over the course of about 6 humanities classes, I think I became all of these religions at least once. I also became a Unitarian and got a candle and everything.

Fast forward 6 years and three beautiful little children. I still love everybody (with a couple exceptions) and I still think other religions are super cool and interesting BUT I kind of want to go into a real church, dress up and experience tradition. I can't handle the hula hooping or incense or being barefoot. If I wanted to do that, I'd just stay home. So, where can I find the hippy spirit in a church that looks like the Vatican and is filled with really smart people who speak Hebrew and know their shit? Believe it or not folks, after almost 9 years of searching, I think I found it. Actually, I don't know if anyone speaks Hebrew yet but they certainly don't speak cowboy and there isn't a rock and roll band screaming at me, so that's a start.  

We started Trinity Episcopal the first week of November and were blown away. The kids fit right in and seemed to really enjoy Sunday school and children's church. Yes, children's church! They have their own little chapel with tiny chairs. It is SO cute. And Jaime and I get to sit uninterrupted for an hour. It is divine. So after a of couple weeks we started a class and after its completion we can officially get confirmed Episcopalian. We are 5 weeks into the class and I think I'm learning a lot. It can be difficult at times because I know way less than everyone else and feel like I need him to back up a bit. I guess at UNCA they forgot to teach us anything useful. But I know this: Women are bishops, there are 3 gay people in my class and they have a parents drinking club. All big, big bonuses in my book. And the Rector who goes by Father Scott is married and has two kids so he is relateable and not scary. Last week in class someone made a joke that Episcopalians will believe just about anything and Father Scott was quick to say that isn't true. They have very strong beliefs all outlined in the Book of Common Prayer and if you ever have a question about what the church believes you can find an answer there. They just have more tolerance than other religions. I really like that. Who are we to judge? I'm such a mess that I have already cheated on what I gave up for lent and it's Ash Wednesday.

What I believe is this; If there is a heaven, I want to go there. It is better to believe in something than nothing. Even if you take organized religion completely out of the equation, being a decent human being can never be wrong. Something much larger than biology created Josiah, Oliver and Corinne. I want to be better. I need help. I need to be able pray and thank someone for all that I have. Being grateful is important. Giving up and letting go of control is also important. Giving yourself an opportunity and the time to develop a relationship with God is nessacery. We are not promised tomorrow, be thankful for each breath and every moment. Even the bad ones... they are significant and it'll all make sense someday. I think.


  

Training: The Opposite of Hoping

This Saturday I ran further than I ever have. Possibly further than anyone ever has. Ok, so that isn't true...but it totally felt like it. 21 miles of oh my gosh ouch.

The past few months I have been feeling a little bit like JayZ. I run this town. Seriously, all over this town. North Asheville, Woodfin, River Arts, West Asheville, East Asheville, Bent Creek, the Mountains to the Sea Trail, Downtown, Biltmore, the Parkway...What am I forgetting? It is a challenge to map out such lengthy runs in a city the size of Asheville and still keep it fresh. Saturday I was only trying to keep it real and go some place new. And by some place new, I really mean to outer space. To infinity and beyond y'all.  The route had us starting at Fudruckers, continuing up through the rose garden to Patton Mountain, all the way up to Town Mountain, north on Town Mountain to Craven Gap and the Blue Ridge Parkway, north on the parkway to Ox Creek, then over to Elk Mountain Scenic Hwy for a quick descent back to Beaverdamn and finally over to Kimberly and ultimately back to Fudruckers 21 miles later. I am having post traumatic stress just typing all that out. By completing this slow (real slow) form of human torture my ultimate goal is to cross over the finish line at Wrightsville Beach and yell out, "What? That's all you got?" We climbed 1600 feet over the course of 13 miles. The Empire State building is 1,400 feet. Think about THAT for a second. 

Everyone who knows me will tell you that aside from having a running problem, I'm not exactly the healthiest person on the planet. In fact, it is possible that I run as much as I do so that I can eat Papa's and Beer three times a week and drink a bottle of champagne every Tuesday while watching The Bachelor. I hear about athletes who fuel up with all sorts of nuts and seeds and leafy greens. Hey, I like salad! I always get a salad first at the Asheville Pizza buffet. Always. And I just bought a pair of size 4 pants, so obviously dieting is all just a scam to keep farmers and their silly vegetables in business. But anyway, I am sort of at a loss as to how to prepare for the these long runs. Exspecially since they are on Saturday mornings and Fridays are supposed to be fun time. So Friday night in typical fashion, I had a steak burrito and rice (carbo loading) from Papas and Beer. Then Saturday morning I got up and drank 2 cups of coffee and ate a bite of a banana (super important runner food) and gave the rest to Jaime. "If I eat the rest of that I will puke," I told him. "Don't puke" he says. And I was off. 

Opening the front door I was greeted by a blast to the face. No really, look what the car said:   

18 degrees. 18! That is less degrees than miles I was about to run. First, I had to drive up to Craven Gap and drop off a water bottle because water bottle belts look stupid and I'm not going to wear one. It took me 30 minutes to get there.  The road was frozen and dangerous. And we were going to run all the way up there and then keep going for 11 more miles. I met Paige, Jenny and Bill at Fudruckers and Bill snapped this before photo of the ladies.  Look at how happy we are.



The first part of the run always go by quickly as we catch up from the previous week. Stories of kindergarten tours, plantar fasciitis and shoe inserts, crazy text messages, etc... filled the first 5 miles and suddenly we were on top of Patton mountain. Bill wished us luck and went on his way because he is smart and wanted to go home and go to a movie. We went left, he went right and up, up, up we went for 9 more miles. I think I must have been suffering from some form of hypothermic hysteria as I chatted with Jenny about beautiful mountains and hills and how I was kinda bummed my marathon was so flat. I snapped photos and was all like, "Its SO pretty!" It was really pretty. Check it out.  

I was kinda confused about when exactly we were going to go downhill. Elk Mountain was for some reason going up and not down. Why wasn't it going down? Well, I guess to go down one side of the mountain you must run all the way up the other. I didn't know that when I mapped it out. I just thought Elk Mountain  then boom Beaverdamn. But we started on an Elk Mountain that was practically in Weaverville. I know, so weird.

Finally, Jenny who had biked this route in the past told me we were at the tippty top and I demanded to have my picture taken by this cool rock.



We had just run a half marathon up a mountain. Where were the medals, beer and donuts? Paige was crying and Jenny had a bleeding blister. I was trying to be cheerful and was like, "Look, I can see your house Paige!! We are almost back!" I had no idea how far we still had to go. As we set off down the mountain all of my badassness disappeared. I felt every muscle in body. I hurt so bad. Wasn't the downhill supposed to be the easy part? Just get off this road and get on Kimberly and you'll be ok. I repeated that in my head for five miles. Five miles... all downhill and every step felt like the end of my running career. When I finally turned onto Kimberly and was welcomed by Josiah and Oliver's preschool, I saw the hill. One that on any normal day and compared to what we had just run would look like a mole hill. But after almost 19 miles I felt my first wave of tears. Oh God, what was I doing? Crying? What? Then I did something even crazier. I leaned over and did the downdog in the graveyard at Asbury. Which was completely appropriate, because I was dying. Then I fell down. I was so cold. The thought of this got my heart racing, was I freezing to death in a graveyard? Was I already dead? My skin was so cold and clammy. My phone was completely out of battery (since I had been running for infinite hours) or I would have called Jaime to pick me up right then and there. Paige and Jenny were gone. I was all alone... laying in a graveyard. 

Somehow I got up. Not through any inspirational story like I thought of a man with one leg crossing the finish line or all the starving people in the world. Simply because my car was at Fudruckers and I had no phone and I needed to go home. I said so many bad words on Kimberly. At one point I yelled out, "My knee, my f**king knee!" and a lady walking her dog glanced my way and kept going. Seriously? You don't wanna help me out? You don't care about my F-ing knee? Really?  

    That final 2 miles I ran for 30 seconds walked for a minute. Ran 30 seconds walked for a minute. And finally, I smelled cheeseburgers. Fudruckers. Oh thank you Jesus.

Paige and Jenny were sitting in the grass at Fudruckers and discussing how stupid that was. 21 miles. Wow.

I drove home and as soon as I got out of the car, started crying (again). Jaime helped me in the door and said you only have to walk like 50 more feet. You can do it. "I hate running. I'm not doing a marathon, I almost died, I'm so cold, please help me." Yep, those were all phrases out of my mouth on the way down to the bathtub. He was a good sport and only smiled without actually laughing. 

So, here I am. 5 weeks away from 26.2 and still alive. I have one more 20 mile run and then a three week taper of 15, 13 and 10 before the big day. I really hope that I'm ready because I want to do well enough that I never, ever have to do another one. And that's for real.

  

The Kindergarden Krazies

Five years ago I was a little over halfway pregnant with my first child. I found out on January 20th 2008 that we were having a baby boy and then in May, Josiah entered our lives a month earlier than planned. He was perfect. Since that moment life has gone by way too fast. Jaime and I went from two to five all before my baby could turn five. I love having a big family and I know that he wouldn't trade his brother and sister for anything but... I've somehow missed the last five precious years. The only ones where I will get him in his entirety before handing him over someone else. Someone who as a county resident, I actually have no control over. I can fill out the paper work and make "requests" which will try to honored after all the city residents are placed at their top choices. Our neighborhood school is terrible. On their school report card  they received a 2 out of 10. So no, they will not be getting my little boy who can read a few small words, write anything I tell him to spell and can add any combination of numbers from 1-10. He is smart y'all. Yes, because I'm just crazy enough to sit around and do flash cards with him for the last 4 years but mostly because he belongs to his Daddy who forgot his calculator the day of the SAT and scored so high that he still has a plaque on the wall at our old high school.

His school needs to be perfect. And my vision of a perfect school isn't a bunch of white kids dressed in outfits from the Gap in a row quietly listening and sitting in a desk. I feel like he needs to be in a school where you see all different types of people and go outside a lot and throw your left over (organic!) lunch in a compost bin and talk about saving the planet. Where you can learn by seeing and doing... all the while becoming respectful, consious little people of a great big world.

We have a charter school, Evergreen, that is everything I've ever wanted but we can't go there. There is another charter school Art Space, love it, can't go there either. Then we have a city school whose focus is experiential learning. They have actual chickens and the kindergardeners go outside and collect and count the eggs! YES! Can't go there. So, where can we go? Honestly, the other choices are good too. And compared to our neighborhood school they may as well be Harvard. But which one will we get? This is my perfect, first born. I kinda expect Harvard.

I don't think I realized how much the whole thing was weighing on me until I toured every school in town over the course of one morning. I was a wreck and had pretty much decided to give up when I remembered: I go to church now. PRAY! I'm pretty sure even in all my spiritual newness that you aren't allowed to pray for specifics (i.e. let him get into Evergreen and I will never create another piece of waste as long as I live) but I can totally pray that he ends up exactly where he is supposed to. Because the reality of it is, he's gonna be fine. Wherever that may be. I may not be, but he will. Even if he went across the street to Johnson. Who knows, maybe he could teach the class? It'd be like Doogie Houser MD but with teachers instead of doctors. We would be famous and then I could afford to send him to some crazy hippie private school like the Learning Community or Rainbow Mountain. But, I digress. All I can do now is enjoy these last moments of Pre-K where I still rule the world. Oh how I love this sweet boy.

Hot Chocolate 10K Race Report

This past weekend I ran the Hot Chocolate 10K. 6.2 miles through Asheville's River Arts District in support of Issac Dickson Elementary School. I've known so many people to do this race over the years but I have shied away from it myself due the fact that it is in January. And January is cold. Even though I am going on my 9th year here in Western North Carolina, I still say Wilmington when people ask me where I'm from. I can out sit anyone in a sauna and think my natural habit may be somewhere around ninety degrees. Kinda like those iguanas that lay on hot tin roofs all over Costa Rica. Did you know that heat thriving species have an actual name? Thermophile. A little bit of trivia for your Monday morning. Anyway, I don't usually run outdoors in January but this winter has been the exception because of all the marathon training. Rain, snow, ice, dark, cold... I haven't had much of a choice. Thankfully, its been a mild winter and I have been dressed in the finest cold weather gear lululemon has to offer. The bundle me run jacket could make even a thermophile go out for a quick spin in a blizzard.

So. My running partner was headed to Disney World and I was dying for a break from our Saturdays spent together running ALL DAY LONG so I was happy to see her go. Have a great trip! I'll be sure to keep up with my training! Can't wait til ya get back! And then I took my running shoes and put them in my closet and fell asleep. Sheesh, 3 kids under 5 and running every moment I'm not with them has taken its toll the last 10 weeks. Still, I needed to do something over the weekend so why not run 6.2 flat little miles around town. I mean with all the running I'd been doing that would probably only take like 45 minutes and then I could go home and go back to sleep. Seriously, in my exhausted over run brain I thought I was going to run SO fast. I called my friend Bill and made him sign up and even challenged him to a race. We bet babysitting and this tired Mama really needed a night out. Bill loves to say stuff to me like, "I like running with you until you get tired and don't wanna talk...then I'll take off." which historically is kind of what happens. But not on January 26th. No sir. I was "only' running six miles and I was going to get a free babysitter. Here I am pre-run with my sweet family who came out to support me during the race.   

Do we look cold? That's because we were. It was freezing. 25 degrees with a wind chill of I dunno like, 250? The wind was whipping around doing something us beach people like to call a hurricane. Still, I am a marathon runner. I must run. So the horn went off and Bill says (of course!) "I'm just gonna run with you until you stop talking to me" Ha! I was already done talking to him. I ran off and went as fast as I could through the grass and the sidelines to sidestep all the people who weren't trying to win a babysitter. Thinking I'd shake him I turned up my music (Girl on Fire) really loud and kept going. We ran past mile one and a guy calls out Seven minutes, thirty seconds. "You're insane!" I hear through my music. Damn it. Bill was still next to me. The first half I really was on fire. With my feet on the ground. Not slowing down. I passed the 5K mark in twenty-three something and headed back the opposite way on river-side drive when WHAM! The wind blew me back. Ok, so maybe I wasn't really on fire and the wind was just blowing me along for three miles and now it was blowing me backwards. But more importantly, Bill was nowhere in sight. So I pushed against the wind in slow motion which thankfully, I have gotten really good at. Running forever in slow motion has been my mantra these last two and a half months. I dragged myself up that mean way too long of a hill (named Hill Street) and crossed the finish line in 53:15 which is a 10K PR for me, so yay! Just don't look at my splits which would show just how slow I was on the second half.

Oh and I beat Bill. Who finished in a respectable 54 minutes ( but still 45 seconds after me!). He was a good sport even though he rambled off something about having been in Michigan the night before and missing an airplane and renting car and maybe driving to the race from Charlotte? I don't know. I couldn't really hear him over Josiah and Oliver chanting Mommy Won!  

 

Only now how sad is it that I'm using my free babysitting time to go for a long run with my husband? Get a life much? Sheesh!