On June 4th, just 11 days ago, I got news that I had been matched to a beautiful little girl named McKenna Rayne. I was to be her Runner through I Run 4, dedicating my runs and workouts to McKenna, who would never be able to run on her own. Nine days after I was matched with her, McKenna passed away.
When she was born, her parents were told that she might not live to see her first birthday, but McKenna was a fighter and her parents fought with her every step of the way. McKenna was 14 months old when she died. She would have been 15 months old this coming Saturday, June 18th. McKenna knew nothing but love during her life, and I don't know many people who can say that.
Recently, I spoke with McKenna's mom, and offered to continue to be McKenna's Runner. I only got to be her Runner for 9 days while she was alive, but being McKenna's runner is not a commitment that ends with her last breath. Tonight, I went on my first run in McKenna's memory.
If you know me, you know that I'm not a very religious person. Spiritual, yes. Religious, no. But I swear on everything I have ever believed that tonight I had an angel with me on my run. Maybe that feeling on my run tonight was a trick of my mind. Maybe it was a buildup of lactic acid, or the stress of running fast enough to break into the anaerobic stage of a workout. Yeah. Maybe. I think it was McKenna. I was tired, but my feet got faster. The leaves weren't moving, but I swear there was a breeze behind me. I never got to meet McKenna in real life, but I think I met her in spirit tonight.
It's fitting that, upon getting her angel wings, McKenna would visit her Runner during a run. Not because I'm particularly important, and not because we had a bond that was more special than the bond she had with anyone else who loved her. It's because McKenna knew nothing but love, and so she had and has nothing but love to give. As soon as she got wings, once she had a strength of body that she was denied in this life, the first thing she did with it was to come and give me strength, to help me during my run.
I ran 3.5 miles for you, McKenna. But really I ran them with you. You were there, and I am so honored that you visited with me. I'm sorry I didn't have the chance to know you better when you were here, but my miles will continue to be dedicated to your memory.
We say that everyone's life has a purpose, and sometimes it might be hard to see how a person as small and young as you could have a chance to fulfill their purpose. But you did everything you ever wanted to do in this life, McKenna. You brought love to this world, love and light. And all of us, even in our deepest sadness at your passing, are brighter and more filled with love for having known you.
We miss you, McKenna Rayne, and we will love you always.
Wednesday, June 15, 2016
Sunday, June 5, 2016
I Only Cried A Little
This morning, I volunteered at a 10K race here in Columbus. My job was to set up and work at an aid station, which is a pretty simple thing.
If you've never run a race before, an aid station is a spot where some tables get set up and covered in disposable cups filled with water. People stand around in front of the tables and hand out water to the folks in the race. On a basic level, the job is that of a very stationary waiter.
Today started out in a disappointing way. When I showed up, the tables, water, and other supplies weren't even delivered yet. The person officially in charge of the aid station hadn't been given any additional information beyond what the rest of us volunteers had. We weren't even sure if we were in the right place until the guys in charge of the race showed up 20-30 minutes late to drop off our aid station supplies.
Not a great start to an experience, particularly when you're someone who likes to have things organized and running efficiently. You know, like a crazy type A lawyer nutjob sort of person. Like me.
But we get everything set up and eventually the folks in the race start coming through. The first few people are going so fast I couldn't tell you what they looked like. Five minute miles will get you through an aid station in less than 5 seconds. I sure can't run that fast, but the folks I saw putting out that kind of speed were there and gone in a flash.
As the pace of the racer got slower, their smiles seem to get bigger. They just had more of an opportunity to interact with us, and everyone at my aid station was going above and beyond to make sure the runners got a great morale boost going into the last mile of the race. We were cheering. We were dancing. We were hollering so loud one guy said he could hear us from at least half a mile away. More than one person told me we were the best aid station in the whole race. I want to say, "Of course we are! This is MRTT and we know how to do happy running!!" Instead, I tell him we're just doing our job, and that he should take a cup of water from me because mine are the best.
The last group of people I saw come through was a family, and in particular I noticed a young woman walking with the group. Her gait was awkward, and her head was turned partly to the side, as though she were continually interested in something just to the left of the race course. I noted it, but didn't in any way alter my normal routine of hollering encouragement from about a quarter of a mile away, and dancing and cheering the group through the aid station. Oh, right, and giving them water.
When they were mostly through the aid station, a woman in the group who was maybe in her late thirties or early forties slipped back to thank me and a couple of other folks for what we had done. As she was talking, she gestured to the young woman. The one who was maybe in her early teens. The one who I had pegged as probably somewhere in high school, most likely her first or second year.
"Thank you so much. You don't know how much it means to her. She's a brain cancer survivor and this was her Wish."
It was me and two other moms that heard those words. None of us could talk well enough after that to say anything.
I only cried a little.
If you've never run a race before, an aid station is a spot where some tables get set up and covered in disposable cups filled with water. People stand around in front of the tables and hand out water to the folks in the race. On a basic level, the job is that of a very stationary waiter.
Today started out in a disappointing way. When I showed up, the tables, water, and other supplies weren't even delivered yet. The person officially in charge of the aid station hadn't been given any additional information beyond what the rest of us volunteers had. We weren't even sure if we were in the right place until the guys in charge of the race showed up 20-30 minutes late to drop off our aid station supplies.
Not a great start to an experience, particularly when you're someone who likes to have things organized and running efficiently. You know, like a crazy type A lawyer nutjob sort of person. Like me.
But we get everything set up and eventually the folks in the race start coming through. The first few people are going so fast I couldn't tell you what they looked like. Five minute miles will get you through an aid station in less than 5 seconds. I sure can't run that fast, but the folks I saw putting out that kind of speed were there and gone in a flash.
As the pace of the racer got slower, their smiles seem to get bigger. They just had more of an opportunity to interact with us, and everyone at my aid station was going above and beyond to make sure the runners got a great morale boost going into the last mile of the race. We were cheering. We were dancing. We were hollering so loud one guy said he could hear us from at least half a mile away. More than one person told me we were the best aid station in the whole race. I want to say, "Of course we are! This is MRTT and we know how to do happy running!!" Instead, I tell him we're just doing our job, and that he should take a cup of water from me because mine are the best.
The last group of people I saw come through was a family, and in particular I noticed a young woman walking with the group. Her gait was awkward, and her head was turned partly to the side, as though she were continually interested in something just to the left of the race course. I noted it, but didn't in any way alter my normal routine of hollering encouragement from about a quarter of a mile away, and dancing and cheering the group through the aid station. Oh, right, and giving them water.
When they were mostly through the aid station, a woman in the group who was maybe in her late thirties or early forties slipped back to thank me and a couple of other folks for what we had done. As she was talking, she gestured to the young woman. The one who was maybe in her early teens. The one who I had pegged as probably somewhere in high school, most likely her first or second year.
"Thank you so much. You don't know how much it means to her. She's a brain cancer survivor and this was her Wish."
It was me and two other moms that heard those words. None of us could talk well enough after that to say anything.
I only cried a little.
Tuesday, February 2, 2016
Running For Good: Part 2
There are probably plenty of folks out there who go their entire running lives without entering a race. The idea of running five or more kilometers surrounded by hundreds or even thousands of strangers can be intimidating, annoying, or even boring.
I am not one of those people. I adore races! I don't really race them, mind you. I just go at my regular old pace, but surrounded by the energy of a likeminded crowd of people. Not to mention you get a shirt, and a medal, and food, and maybe even some cool freebies at the expo. It's like everything I want all in one place!
But then a few months go by, and that new medal is just getting lost in the pile I have in the corner of the bookcase. I could get one of those cool medal holders to display all of my race bling, but I have a better way to deal with those medals.
Enter Medals4Mettle (M4M). They will happily take those old medals you have and use them to do something fantastic. All of the donated medals are given a new M4M ribbon and then sent out to a worldwide network of physicians and volunteers. Here's the best part. Those physicians and volunteers gift the medals to children and adults fighting debilitating illnesses. The recipients of M4M medals may not be able to run a race, but their efforts in fighting their disease, in struggling every day for the chance to live their life, are recognized through the gift of a marathon medal.
M4M accepts medals that were earned from a half-marathon or longer running event, or triathlon event. You can look up your local Chapter on their website so you know where to send your medals. They also have mailing instructions and an online fillable Donation Form handily accessible from their website. Check out their donation page for all the information you'll need to send in your medals!
http://www.medals4mettle.org/donate.html
If you've ever seen my facebook page, you may recognize the photo above. A very similar image is often my cover photo. It's the picture I took of all my race medals before donating them to M4M. I had a blast earning each and every one of those medals. The sense of pride I got upon donating those medals was even better.
I hope that you'll pick a medal or two to send in to M4M and help recognize that "someone is in a tougher race than you right now."
I am not one of those people. I adore races! I don't really race them, mind you. I just go at my regular old pace, but surrounded by the energy of a likeminded crowd of people. Not to mention you get a shirt, and a medal, and food, and maybe even some cool freebies at the expo. It's like everything I want all in one place!
But then a few months go by, and that new medal is just getting lost in the pile I have in the corner of the bookcase. I could get one of those cool medal holders to display all of my race bling, but I have a better way to deal with those medals.
Enter Medals4Mettle (M4M). They will happily take those old medals you have and use them to do something fantastic. All of the donated medals are given a new M4M ribbon and then sent out to a worldwide network of physicians and volunteers. Here's the best part. Those physicians and volunteers gift the medals to children and adults fighting debilitating illnesses. The recipients of M4M medals may not be able to run a race, but their efforts in fighting their disease, in struggling every day for the chance to live their life, are recognized through the gift of a marathon medal.
M4M accepts medals that were earned from a half-marathon or longer running event, or triathlon event. You can look up your local Chapter on their website so you know where to send your medals. They also have mailing instructions and an online fillable Donation Form handily accessible from their website. Check out their donation page for all the information you'll need to send in your medals!
http://www.medals4mettle.org/donate.html
If you've ever seen my facebook page, you may recognize the photo above. A very similar image is often my cover photo. It's the picture I took of all my race medals before donating them to M4M. I had a blast earning each and every one of those medals. The sense of pride I got upon donating those medals was even better.
I hope that you'll pick a medal or two to send in to M4M and help recognize that "someone is in a tougher race than you right now."
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
Say Yes to Donating the Dress
Next week will bring the second installment in the Running For Good series. For now, I wanted to talk about a donation I recently made.
This is my wedding dress. It is lovely. I wore it on the day that I married the best man I have ever known. Since that day, it has hung in a bag in my closet. I have moved twice since I was married, and both times I put that dress in the trunk of the car, not trusting it to a suitcase in the giant moving trucks we used.
I looked amazing in that dress.
This is my wedding dress. It is lovely. I wore it on the day that I married the best man I have ever known. Since that day, it has hung in a bag in my closet. I have moved twice since I was married, and both times I put that dress in the trunk of the car, not trusting it to a suitcase in the giant moving trucks we used.
I looked amazing in that dress.
Now, someone else will get a chance to look amazing in that dress. I have donated it to Adorned in Grace. They are a non-profit based in Portland, Oregon. They take donated wedding dresses and resell them, then use all the profits to help victims of sexual trafficking move on with their lives. You can read more about them on their website, including how to donate your own wedding dress if you so choose:
http://www.adornedingrace.org/
I even found a local cleaner here in Columbus who, in exchange for me paying the cost of shipping the dress to Adorned in Grace, will clean the dress for free and handle the packaging and shipment. The owner of the dry cleaners, Margaret, personally took my phone call about the free cleaning and met me at the cleaners when I went to drop off my dress.
I hope that the person who buys my dress has as happy an ever after as I have. I hope that the person who is helped by the profits from selling my dress has as happy an ever after as I have. I adored my wedding dress, but I love what I can do by donating it.
Monday, January 18, 2016
Running For Good: Part 1
People run for a lot of reasons. It can function as cheap(ish) therapy. It's great exercise. It's a way to get out and meet people when you're in a new place. But it's also a mechanism by which you can do a lot of good in the world. This is the first in a series of posts all about how to change the world - for the better - by lacing up your shoes and going for a run.
Part 1 - Charity Miles
Charity Miles is an app, for both iPhone and Android, that lets you turn the miles you run/walk/bike into monetary donations to a charity of your choice. There are a few limitations - namely, the charity of your choice has to come from their list of charity partners. But, with that limitation noted, the rest is all up to you. Large corporations will sponsor Charity Miles, like Chobani recently did, and give them a bunch of money. Those funds are held in a big floating donation cloud (finance isn't my strong suit), waiting for someone to open the Charity Miles app and go for a run. You choose your charity, choose whether you'll be running indoors or out, and then get your run on. If you're competitive, or a fan of group participation, you can form a team and see how many miles you and your friends can run for charity.
If you're having trouble choosing a charity, then you can pick a different one each time you go out. Clicking on a charity gives you the option to immediately run for them, or to click their name again and read a short description of what they do. I have all the charity partners listed at the end of this post, so you can give the list a quick perusal.
Are you interested, but not really into cardio? Even if you don't walk, run, or bike for charity, you can still donate! The minimum distance to qualify for a donation is one tenth of a mile - 0.1 miles is all you need! Use the app while you walk to work. Park at the far end of the parking lot and use the app while you stroll from your car into your apartment, or the grocery store, or the bookshop. If you logged one tenth of a mile every day, just walking to and from your house, you would give a bit over $9.00 to charity in a year. Maybe that doesn't sound like a lot to you, but imagine if everyone reading this post did that. Those donations would add up fast!
Breaking down those donation amounts for you, here's how it adds up: For each mile you walk or run, $0.25 will be donated to your charity. If you're into pedaling, $0.10 will be donated for every mile you bike. And that's it. You pay nothing. Your charity gets money. You get fit. Everyone wins!! Plus, Charity Miles does a ton of giveaways. Sign up for their email list to be notified when new giveaways are happening, and you could win a sweet hoodie like mine!
That's me trying to fake like I'm running in my kitchen. But I look amazing in my new Pace On Earth hoodie, even with the ridiculous pose.
So get the app and get out there! Which charity will you choose?
Charity Miles charities:
- American Diabetes Association
- Habitat for Humanity
- Stand Up To Cancer
- Operation Smile
- The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society
- Alzheimer's Association
- Girl up
- Save The Children
- Feeding America
- Charity: Water
- Shot@LIfe
- World Wildlife Fund
- The Michael J. Fox Foundation
- Wounded Warrior Project
- ASPCA
- (RED)
- St. Jude Children's Research Hospital
- Autism Speaks
- Every Mother Counts
- Team Red, White & Blue
- Girls On The Run
- DoSomething.Org
- The Nature Conservancy
- Pencils of Promise
- The World Food Programme
- Special Olympics
- National Park Foundation
- Crohn's & Colitis Foundation of America
- Team For Kids
- She's The First
- Soles4Souls
- Nothing But Nets
- Back On My Feet
- The Partnership For A Healthier America
- Achilles International
- The Ironman Foundation
- Vision Spring
Monday, January 11, 2016
Perspective
It's been a while, friends. So I thought I would start back up with a bang.
As I type this, I am comfortably in my thirties, unemployed somewhat by my own choice, and the mother of a tiny child. I spend my days managing someone else's poop and dreaming of a weekend all to myself the way I used to dream about dates with Brent Spiner or winning a copy of the Gutenberg Bible.
It is in these utterly normal circumstances that I have come to realize how totally fucking awesome I am. Particularly, I have finally come, more or less, to really and truly appreciate my body. For much of my life, I have hated my body. My skin was never clear enough. I weighed too much. The size of my clothes was too big. It all seemed to matter so much and none of it was ever good enough.
And that's how I thought when I weighed about thirty pounds less than I do now, and was a delectably young twenty-something.
To be fair to my younger self, the world works very very hard to make you think those things are important. It's understandable that I would have been taken in, and that being unacceptable by advertising standards would have gotten to me.
I'm not exactly sure when I got over that, or at least got mostly over that. Maybe it was the time Theo peed so much while napping in my lap that he wet through my pants, too. When I went to change, I found that the pants I was wearing, which I had barely fit into after giving birth, could be taken off without undoing the zipper or buttons. Maybe it was the first time I wore my running tights instead of pants, with a delightful tunic length sweater and a pretty scarf, and realized I was totally rocking it. Or maybe, after having pushed a living breathing human being out of my body without pain medication and solely through my own brute strength, I just finally realized that the delightful flesh machine I call my body is pimp as hell.
Whatever. The point is that I now wear leggings. With t-shirts. And I know I look good. I know that, as I walk down the street in those oh so clingy and oh so insanely comfortable leggings, at least one person that sees me will wish they could look as confident and comfortable and totally awesome in my outfit as I do. I used to be that person, the one wishing they could look like that. I really wish I could go back and tell past me, shake past me until she believes, that she already looks like that.
I'll just have to know it for her. In my god damn awesome hunter green leggings.
As I type this, I am comfortably in my thirties, unemployed somewhat by my own choice, and the mother of a tiny child. I spend my days managing someone else's poop and dreaming of a weekend all to myself the way I used to dream about dates with Brent Spiner or winning a copy of the Gutenberg Bible.
It is in these utterly normal circumstances that I have come to realize how totally fucking awesome I am. Particularly, I have finally come, more or less, to really and truly appreciate my body. For much of my life, I have hated my body. My skin was never clear enough. I weighed too much. The size of my clothes was too big. It all seemed to matter so much and none of it was ever good enough.
And that's how I thought when I weighed about thirty pounds less than I do now, and was a delectably young twenty-something.
To be fair to my younger self, the world works very very hard to make you think those things are important. It's understandable that I would have been taken in, and that being unacceptable by advertising standards would have gotten to me.
I'm not exactly sure when I got over that, or at least got mostly over that. Maybe it was the time Theo peed so much while napping in my lap that he wet through my pants, too. When I went to change, I found that the pants I was wearing, which I had barely fit into after giving birth, could be taken off without undoing the zipper or buttons. Maybe it was the first time I wore my running tights instead of pants, with a delightful tunic length sweater and a pretty scarf, and realized I was totally rocking it. Or maybe, after having pushed a living breathing human being out of my body without pain medication and solely through my own brute strength, I just finally realized that the delightful flesh machine I call my body is pimp as hell.
Whatever. The point is that I now wear leggings. With t-shirts. And I know I look good. I know that, as I walk down the street in those oh so clingy and oh so insanely comfortable leggings, at least one person that sees me will wish they could look as confident and comfortable and totally awesome in my outfit as I do. I used to be that person, the one wishing they could look like that. I really wish I could go back and tell past me, shake past me until she believes, that she already looks like that.
I'll just have to know it for her. In my god damn awesome hunter green leggings.
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