Sometimes, the Answer is No

Earlier in the year I started signing up for a bunch of races. I was so excited and revved up to keep racing, even though my favorite running partner was 3,000 miles away in Maryland. Moving to Washington state I figured there would be lots of opportunities to try new races. I spent a lot of time searching for unique races within a reasonable driving distance.

I found a race in the nearby city of Arlington (about an hour or so drive) called the Rescue Run. It was a 10K and would have been my longest race ever. I was really looking forward to stepping up race length and thought it would also be a great way to prep for the half marathon I had coming up a month after. I spent some time training in the weeks prior, but wasn't nearly as prepared as I needed to be. So many things in my life kept getting in the way of my training.

- We got the lease renewal for our already over-priced apartment and found out the increase was going to price us out of being able to live there. This meant every spare moment we had after work was spent apartment hunting.

- Right about the time some folks came through and helped us out with the apartment situation and we re-signed our lease, our apartment became infested with fleas (and at the time, we didn't even have any pets!). I was covered in so many flea bites that at first my husband and I thought I had the chicken pox. I constantly itched and the bites swelled enough that wearing socks and shoes was painful. Training in this condition was near impossible.


- We got rid of the fleas, by the grace of God (and with a ridiculous amount of chemicals), and I finally thought I could get back into the rhythm of training. But of course, it was not that simple. New neighbors moved in above us. Our previous upstairs neighbor, although annoying because he smoked like a chimney and the smoke sometimes made its way into our house, not to mention the flicked ash and still lit cigarettes landing on our patio and in the bushes in front of our apartment, he was quiet. He was quiet enough that unless we smelled smoked, we hardly knew he was around. Our new neighbors? Not so much. They were loud CONSTANTLY. Doing laundry at all hours of the day and night, running around and playing basketball in the house, jumping off of furniture onto the floor and knocking pictures and knick-knacks down off our walls and shelves, and behaving as if they were the only people in the building. My husband tried talking to them to no avail. To top it all off, our neighbors on the other side of the walkway got another dog and the two dogs barked any time anyone walked past their apartment, meaning the barking went right into our bedroom window.

Needless to say, with all of this going on, I wasn't getting much sleep. I was exhausted constantly. I couldn't train much because I could barely find the energy to make it through my work day. I would fall asleep crying because I was just so frustrated, exhausted, overwhelmed, stressed, and, well, just plain a mess. The week of the Rescue Run 10K arrived and I was a mess. There's no better way to say it. I had gotten less than 10 miles of training done that week and had only slept about the same number of hours that week too. I talked over with Riku about whether or not it was a good idea to run this 10K when I was so exhausted and untrained. I was on the fence about participating. I didn't feel good about it on any level, but I felt like saying "no" was quitting or giving up. Riku wanted me to pass on the race and he supported me in making the best choice for my health and self. I had an appointment for a pedicure, so he told me to go, relax, think about my decision, and then let him know.


I made my decision during the pedicure. It was easy to make when the woman doing my nails clipped the cuticle on my left pinkie toe so short that she cut into the skin causing it to bleed. The pain was horrible and it took several minutes for my foot to stop bleeding. Walking was painful and within 24 hours, the cut was infected, despite sanitizing it and keeping it clean and protected. I could barely walk, let alone run. Between the pain of my foot and the exhaustion from getting so little sleep, from lack of preparation to frustration with our living situation, I was out of cope and I was starting to lose my ability to function.


There would be no Rescue Run 10K for me. It broke my heart. I felt like a failure. I texted my best friend, Laura, and told her I would not be going to the 10K race and I told her why. Just like my husband, Riku, she supported my decision and reassured me that deciding not to participate does not make me a failure. I had to make a decision that was good for me and my health and well-being. Sometimes, that means saying NO to a race. It's easy to sign up for a race, pay that registration fee, and start training. It's not nearly as easy to decide that it's in your best interest to stay home.

Running injured is NOT running smart. Knowing I had my first half marathon coming up in just a few weeks, I decided to focus on that instead. I made better, healthier choices for myself and gave my mind, body, and spirit time to heal properly. Saying "no" was the right decision for me and I don't regret it for a second. Saying "no" does not make me a failure, it makes me smart. Running is healthy, but can also be hard on the body. Part of being a smart runner is making smart choices and when you ask yourself if you're healthy enough for a race, Sometimes, the Answer is No.

Orange You Glad I Run?

If you've been following me on Facebook or have read my race re-caps, you may have noticed a trend among the pictures I post: I wear orange.  Orange is not my favorite color. I've always preferred black, red and purple to orange.  For my southern relatives, orange is the color of the Clemson Tigers and abhorred by their rivals, the Carolina Gamecocks.  My husband is a Clemson fan. My husband loves orange.  BUT - that is not why I wear orange.  I wear orange in honor of his mother, Hollie.

I've never had the opportunity to meet Hollie and unfortunately, never will.  She passed away when my husband was seven years old, after a five-year battle with Multiple Sclerosis.  My husband has several memories of her, but the one that has stuck with him is an early-evening hospital visit when he was four years old.  He remembers running towards his mother, like any other small child and jumping into her arms. Regardless of the sheer amount of pain she was in, she picked him up and held him close and told him she loved him; at that same time, he looked through the hallway window to see the sun setting. When the sun sets, the entire sky is on fire.  Changing from a soft blue to a fiery red-orange.  Orange.

To this day, sunsets are our moments with Hollie and are a huge symbol of love in our family - Dennis and I were married at sunset.  Over time, I learned that orange is the color used in raising awareness of Multiple Sclerosis.  When I decided to register for my first half-marathon, I soon learned that it would take place on May 4th - Hollie's birthday.  Knowing this, I wanted to do something special in honor of her memory.  I decided that I would wear orange - for her and sunsets. In this race and every following, I wear orange for Hollie, for all those who live or have fought MS.  I take pride in knowing that despite my slow pace, I am able to run or walk freely.

Today marks twenty-five years since Hollie has passed. Not a day goes by that she is not missed nor loved by all of us.  For her, and all of the individuals who inspire me, I run.

Crossing the Bridge

This is a race re-cap of the inaugural Across the Bay 10K that occurred on November 9, 2014. 

Having grown up in Maryland, I have driven across the Bay Bridge dozens of times. Most often riding alongside my best friend as we traveled to her parent's beach home in Fenwick Island, just miles from Ocean City.  The Bay Bridge spans roughly 4.3 miles, connecting travelers from the Western Shore of the Chesapeake Bay to the Eastern Shore.  Almost 1000 cars cross the Bay Bridge on a daily basis.  For the inaugural Across the Bay 10K, there were 20,000 of us who went by foot.

View of the Bridge from Sandy Point Park (our Start)

The sheer number of runners coupled with the race set-up itself (years past, similar attempts were not as successful) made me completely nervous, but I knew I couldn't pass up the opportunity to run the bridge.  It's one thing to drive across, breathing in the salt air feeling the ocean that much closer; to run it - too cool for words.  The weeks leading up, I didn't adhere to a strict training plan.  I had just finished the Baltimore half-marathon (more on that later) a few weeks prior and I peppered in some 1-3 mile short runs in my neighborhood when I could.  What made me somewhat anxious was the age-old dilemma, "what's a girl to wear?!"

Being in November and our typical multiple-personality weather that is Maryland, I didn't know where to start.  Luckily, two other girls at work were signed up to run AND I had my Moms Run This Town (MRTT) online group to consult.  A little sharing and a fun trip to TJ Maxx later, I had my race day outfit: running tights, my MRTT shirt, and a thermal zip-up hoodie.  I decided to brave the bridge minus a hat, gloves or anything heavy and thank goodness I did.  Come race day, it turned out to be mid-fifties and sunny.  

My wave was scheduled to start at 9:15 and due to the nature of the race, runners and spectators shuttled separately to the start and finish areas.  I needed to be on a shuttle at least an hour ahead and I JUST made it.  The sheer number of runners required that the race starts be staggered and given that we would be crossing from the Western Shore to the Eastern, spectators were bused to the finish area. On top of this, parking itself was borderline chaotic - the Mister and I decided to park at the Navy-Marine Corps. stadium lot, not knowing they were also hosting a lacrosse tournament the same weekend.  After sitting in traffic for over 45 minutes (so thankful we decided to leave an hour earlier than originally planned), we made it to the shuttle location in time for my husband to switch seats with me and park the car while I dashed to make my shuttle to the start.

The RIDICULOUS line for the shuttle to the START. .

Edging closer and closer to the start...

Nothing I could have pictured would have prepared me for this race.  Driving a distance versus running it is an entirely different experience.  The scenery is the same, but it becomes a new adventure.  In order to accommodate us, the eastbound side of the bridge was closed; two-way traffic was set up on the westbound bridge.  I had no goals set for myself, so I took it nice and easy, which helped for the uphill start to the bridge.

This was a race that was relaxing to run.  Everyone was excited to run across; people stopped to take pictures, myself included. Hydration? No paper cups littering the course.  Across the Bay was a cup-less race, which gave me my first experience of running more than three-miles with my handheld Nathan water bottle.  I started with close to full bottle and finished with close to half left.  There were water fountain stations set up in addition to port-a-johns after the 2nd and 4th miles on the bridge.

Yes, I took a selfie too!

My only complaints? 1)Parking/shuttles - while there was a system in place, it was not fluid.  It was a little difficult to navigate the Celebration Village post-race to find our shuttle back.  There were voluteers along the way, but I think the set-up of parking/shuttles could be somewhat clearer.  2) Spectator viewing - this was the first race in a while that my husband was present at and he was disappointed to not be able to see me run from the start or finish due to the crowds of people and general layout of the course.

Overall, I loved this race and would recommend it to anyone despite its semi-steep price tag.  The weather was great, the experience irreplaceable and the atmosphere uplifting.  Up next on my race calendar? Our local YMCA Santa Run 5K.  Time to get dressed up and run in our holiday best around Frederick in addition to training for the Disney Glass Slipper Challenge come February.

Post-Race with my "puzzle piece" medal