Lorrie’s Blog

One of the greatest joys of my life is my children. Aside from the newborn stage (which was precious, but extremely trying), I have loved watching them grow and change and develop their own personalities.

Nicole, who will be 6 in December, is the one right now who seems to change before my eyes on an almost daily basis. She has blossomed this year into a kid — no longer a baby, a toddler or even a preschooler. She is a readin’, writin’, back-seat-drivin’, extremely bright child.

She recently was upset at Matt one evening for not reading her a bedtime story. He had told her she had to do some things before he would read to her and she didn’t do them and so her consequence was going to bed with no story. Later, he found a piece of paper on his dresser which she had written. You really have to see it to get the full effect, but I’ll try to describe it. At the top was written “I (heart) Dad” only the heart was broken. In the middle of the paper she had drawn a picture of a stick dad with a stick girl on his lap reading a book. Around that picture she had drawn a circle and made a line through it. Then she wrote “Nic is sad” and “The gril is sad”. I found the paper the next morning and asked Nic what was the thing she had drawn on top of the dad’s head in the picture. She laughed kind of an embarrassed little laugh and finally said, “It’s a Monster!”

Here’s my favorite recent story, though. When we were in Florida, Nic, Katie and I were in the car with my mother-in-law, Sylvia. Nic and Sylvia were talking about our children’s museum and Nic mentioned something about the polar bear. Sylvia asked if that was new because she didn’t remember seeing it. I said, “No, that’s been around as long as the museum has. It’s as old as me!” Nic said, “Mom, it’s older than you!” Katie said, “Nic, how do you know it’s older than mom?” To which Nic replied, “Kate! Because it’s dusty and mom’s not!”

. . . from my first marathon. It’s hard to believe it’s over.

It’s taken me this long to blog because I don’t know how to summarize the events of the day. There is so much wrapped up in it; so much I don’t even know how to put into words.

Here are the highlights:

The beginning of the race — the gun goes off and so do half of the clothes that people are wearing. Shirts were flying all over the place! It was pretty chilly at start time and so people were layered and as soon as the gun went off, the air was filled with clothes. Very funny! Because of where I was standing, we didn’t even move for more than 8 minutes. Finally we got to a slow walk and by the time we reached the start line (more than 15 minutes after the gun had sounded), we were able to break into a jog.

Within the first mile, we went through a tunnel. At least 15 guys peeled off to pee over on the side of the tunnel. I thought, “Didn’t your mothers ever tell you to go BEFORE you left?”

The miles clicked by and I was feeling pretty good, although trying to conserve my energy. I was watching my time pretty closely and was just a little behind, but determined not to speed up too fast and end up with no energy at the end.

At mile 11 I was thrilled to see Emily, Erin, Julie, Angie and Mollie. I actually passed them and then heard one of the girls yell out my name! I ran back and gave them my gloves which I’d been carrying since I took them off in mile 2.

They were supposed to meet up with me again at mile 16 and Matt and the kids were supposed to be at mile 18. Neither was there. By that time, I was getting pretty tired. Not having them there was discouraging. As it turned out, they had all gotten stuck in some major traffic and weren’t able to get to where I was. I didn’t know that and felt abandoned. I wanted to cry. Then I got mad. Then I was terrified that Bill wouldn’t be able to meet me at mile 23.

Mile 22 was my hardest. I had no energy left, was feeling sick to my stomach and was sore all over. I walked probably half of that mile.

When I got to mile 23, I rounded a corner and there was my little Nic. And then I saw Katie and Matt and Jeremy. What a relief that was. I was overjoyed. I made a quick stop to say hi and then ran on to the next water station after which I started combing the sidelines for Bill. I found him almost right away and amazingly enough, he saw me right away, too. He jumped right in and started running with me. When he asked me how I was, I think I said something like, “Really bad.” He laughed and said, “Well, you look better than the woman who finished first!”

I can’t even begin to explain to you how significant it was to me to have Bill running with me those last three miles. It was one of the most profoundly encouraging things anyone has ever done for me. He kept up a steady stream of conversation, but didn’t have any expectations for me to talk back. When I said I needed to walk, he just said OK. When I was ready to run again, he joined right in.

Somewhere in the midst of mile 24, a bar on the corner was handing out cups of beer to the runners. Too funny! And as we passed the 25 mile marker there was a band there playing a BoDeans song! It wasn’t “Stay On”, but it gave me a little extra boost of energy. We also saw Erin, Emily, Mollie, Julie and Angie at the 25 mile marker. Erin and Emily ran alongside us cheering for a few steps.

The 25th mile seemed to go on forever. As we rounded one of the last corners, we could see things along the side of the road that indicated we were almost there, but no 26th mile marker. Then I saw the hill — the one they expected me to run up in order to be able to finish. Bill said it wasn’t a hill, that it was only in my mind. He was wrong. On top of that, the wind was blasting into our faces. I said, “Oh great! A hill and wind!” About halfway up I decided we needed to walk. But at the top of the hill, we turned the corner and there was not only the 26 mile marker, but you could see the finish line and it was downhill.

I expected Bill to have to drop off the course since he wasn’t wearing a race number and he shouldn’t have been allowed to cross the finish line. But somehow, by the grace of God, there was no place for him to exit and he was able to run across the finish line with me. My time on the clock was just under 5 hours, but because of my delayed start, my chip time was 4:41.

I’m not sure what I expected to feel as I crossed the finish line. I think I thought it would be more emotional. I was really just so glad to be able to stop running. I did get the coolest medal. And even though I finished slower than 21,000 other people, my prize was the same as the person who finished 4th. (The first 3 got money.)

In an e-mail to Jeff last week I said, “By this time next week, I’ll be done with my marathon.” His reply to me was, “By this time next week, you’ll be planning your next marathon.” As amazing as it is to admit, he’s right. I’ve already started thinking of where it would be fun to do a marathon the next time around. (Anybody game for going to Disneyworld?)

I went back and re-read that section of “Reaching for the Invisible God” by Philip Yancey that I read some time this summer at church. There’s a part of it that I think sums up so well my experience on Sunday.

“In five places the New Testament likens the Christian life to a race, and I have little doubt that were Paul writing today he would specify a marathon race. The twenty-six miles I ran encompassed every human emotion. The transitory ones, peaks of excitement or despair, faded quickly. What kept me going was patience, endurance, and finally the encouragement of a friend. Later, as I looked back on the race, my whipsaw moods fit into a predictable pattern that the running magazines describe as normal. At the time, though, I had no perspective, simply the step-by-step decision to keep going until the end.”

I couldn’t have made this journey alone. I was so blessed along the way with family and friends who encouraged me and supported me every step of the way. It’s you all who are my inspiration. It was your faith and belief in me that gave me the courage to follow through.

I’m so thankful for you and I will continue to keep . . .

Pressing on,
Lorrie

So, what goes through the head of someone running their first marathon in less than 12 hours? Nothing very coherent, I can assure you!

We’ve had a good day today. We left Indy a little later than we thought we would, but no harm done. We made it to Chicago by around 12:30. Checked into the hotel and then tried to decide how best to get to the Expo where I would pick up my bib number and $80 T-shirt. We ended up driving there in heavy Chicago traffic (why would anyone want to put up with that on a daily basis?). The Expo was packed — good preparation for tomorrow! We got to meet John “The Penguin” Bingham — a writer who has been an inspiration to me in my running. He gave me lots of encouragement and ideas. He told me that it would probably take me 15 - 20 minutes just to get to the starting line! Wow! He also said that I should probably toss out my ideas of finishing in a certain time because of the crowds. I guess it’s good to go into the race with realistic expectations, but my goal still stands. If nothing else, it will be a good measuring stick for how I’m progressing.

Then we headed downtown to meet Beans and spend some time dropping our tourist dollars along the Magnificent Mile. We made only two stops — the American Girl Place and Niketown (my favorite store in the whole wide world). Then we headed back to our hotel to find a good Italian restaurant.

We ended up at Giordano’s which has unbelievable pizza (which I couldn’t eat - I opted for spaghetti). We had horrendous service, but it was fun having the Cubs game on and being surrounded by Cubs fans. You knew when something Cub-positive happened in the game because the whole restaurant erupted in cheers. Very fun! We were there for about two hours waiting on food. But at least we enjoyed each others’ company. (Angie and Julie joined us while we were there.)

After dinner we headed back to the hotel which is where we are now. I have all my options for running outfits laid out on the bed trying to decide which one is most appropriate. The start temp is supposed to be around 50 with the high tomorrow at 66. Should be pretty awesome running weather, with one exception — they’re calling for high winds. Well, after all it is the windy city! Plus, it’s touted as the world’s flatest and fastest marathon; it’s a little much to expect no winds, too.

I’m not sure when and where everyone is planning to line up along the route to hopefully catch my attention. I’m leaving quite early in the morning (probably around 6) to head downtown. Everyone else will arrive some time after that!

I’m excited, a little nervous, anxious for it to be over. I’m looking forward to the experience and trying to really focus on the pleasure of being able to do something like this. My coach said the best way to make sure you’re prepared is to expect it to be the worst day of your life. That’s so hard for someone who’s 99% optimist to do! I’d much rather focus on and tell myself the positive.

Bill is planning to join me for about the last three miles of the race. I so appreciate his willingness to do that. He has been such an encouragement to me throughout my training process. Someday maybe I’ll be able to do the same for him. He asked me if I chose him because I needed someone big enough to be able to carry me across the finish line. I said in the worst case scenario . . . yes!

Last night I had a funny dream that I never actually made it to the marathon. I kept thinking I’d just go down a little bit later and then ended up missing it all together. Maybe that was my subconscious’ way of trying to chicken out at the last minute!

I’m off to make the final decision on apparel, find my bib number and safety pins, attach my Chip to my shoe and then try to get some sleep. The next time I blog, I will be a marathoner!

Josh McDowell wrote:
“If you always do what you’ve always done, you will always be what you’ve always been.”

My mom sent me this quote this week. Isn’t it cool? And scary.

I never really understood before what it meant to push myself to the limit. Oh, there are things I’ve done in my life that have seemed to do that. I’ve always been the adventure-seeking one in my family. We went to the Black Hills once and I had to climb out further than everyone else. I got stuck. I remember thinking to myself, “Hmm . . . they’re just going to have to finish the rest of their lives without me, because I can’t go forward and I can’t get turned around to go back.” (Obviously I figured something out.) I love climbing trees. I love sitting on high ledges and dangling my feet over. I love that feeling in my stomach of performance-enhancing nervousness — you know, the kind that makes it almost impossible to take a deep breath? I thrive under pressure. I love waiting until the last minute. I like being the last one on the plane. (Doesn’t this make y’all want to travel with me?)

My dad tells these great stories of how when he was a little boy, he never worried about something bad happening to him because his older brother always worried enough for both of them. (Ask me about them some time. They’re the kind of stories that will make you laugh until you cry. My grandma was quite a character!) That is totally me! I am not a worrier. (With the exception being when it comes to my children, but I think that’s something that happens to you when you become pregnant.) The result of that is that I am nearly always cool, calm and collected because someone else around me is doing all the necessary freaking out. (Mollie has seen me freak out a couple of times but she’s not allowed to talk about it.) That scenario has worked for me for a long time.

Up until about a month ago. That’s when my training got real. Real hard. Real serious. Real intense. (Sorry about the bad grammar, mom.) I was confronted with the reality that I might not be able to finish what I set out to do. And I was terrified.

Last week, I was in serious pain. I was discouraged. I was at one of the lowest points of my life emotionally. I was tired. I felt like a walking (or should I say, limping) zombie.

Then on Sunday, I realized something. The hardest part is over. It really is. When I cross that finish line, it will be the culmination of 9 months of training. But it’s not the actual marathon itself that is so amazing. It’s all those months, day in and day out, of training. It’s all those miles that I ran alone. It’s all those miles that many of you ran with me. It’s the days I ran in pouring rain and intense heat and humidity. It’s the days I ran when I was in pain. It’s the days when I didn’t want to run and I did it any way. It’s the days when I turned down McDonalds or something else unhealthy because I knew it was better for me to eat smart. I realized that even if something happens and I never make it to that finish line, it has been worth it. I have learned much about myself through this process and about many of you as well. I have been blessed with having some of the most positive people in the world around me who I can call my dear friends and family.

I feel like a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. My pain is completely manageable and I am certain that by Sunday when I stand at that start line it will be negligible. I feel exhilirated at the prospect of what I am about to do. I feel well prepared. I can’t wait to blog again when it’s over and tell you all about it. I wish I had a way to do a play-by-play as I’m experiencing it!

Thank you for your prayers. I would not be in this state of mind if it weren’t for people praying for me in Indiana, Nebraska, Ohio, Michigan and even on a little island called the Azores.

Did you know that the first person to ever run a marathon (before it was an official “race” distance) died at the very end of exhaustion? Just a little tidbit I thought you might want to know. (Weird quirk about me — I’m 99% optimist and 1% fatalist. That’s why I always have to make sure my house is clean before I leave on vacation. And make sure no one’s mad at me. No one is mad at me, right?)

As I’ve been writing this, my heart overflows with gratitude and love for you. I feel like one of the most fortunate people on the face of this earth.

Pressing on,
Lorrie

PS I’ve been trying to think of a way to write down and carry with me all the verses and song lyrics that have been so helpful to me through the last few weeks. I thought about carrying index cards, but that would be too hard. Then I thought about actually writing them up and down my arms, but that would be too bizarre. If any of you have any suggestions, I’d love to hear them.

It was a dark day today. Now, you’re probably thinking, “No, it was a beautiful fall day today. Crisp, autumn-like temperature, blue sky, sunny. Nothing dark about that!” OK, so aside from that it was a dark day.

I got out of bed feeling stiff and sore. When my boss walked by my desk this morning, he said, “Good morning, Sunshine!” then “How are your legs feeling?” then “Oh, never mind, I can tell by looking at your eyes.” All without hardly taking a breath. My non-exercising co-worker offered to take me to an appointment this afternoon and pick me up when it was over so I didn’t have to take extra steps to walk to my car. She said to me, “Are you sure that when this is over you’re going to say it was worth it?” I said, “Today’s not a good day to ask.”

Tonight I was scheduled to run 6 miles. I ran 3. The little devil on my shoulder screamed, “Failure! How can you expect to run a marathon in less than 2 weeks when you can’t even run 6 miles today!” The little angel on the other side kept telling me it would be silly to push it now and risk an injury when I’ve been working so hard for so long. I was angry. I kept thinking, “I hate running. Why am I doing this? What I really want to do is come home from work, throw on a pair of sweatpants and lounge around on the couch.” If I had been five years old I would have sat down on the ground right then and there and refused to move. Instead I just had a tantrum in my head.

Tonight I was restless. I wandered around the house smelling like a combination of Ben Gay and vinegar — a scent I can guarantee you won’t find on the shelves at Bath & Body Works any time soon. This should be a clue how difficult I’m finding it to deal with the pain. Not only am I doing what the experts say to do, I’m also resorting to homeopathic remedies.

I finally picked up a book I’ve been reading off and on for the last couple months. It’s called Marathoning for Mortals by John Bingham. The chapter I’m on is called “Race Preparation” and here’s what it says:

“This is where the real fun begins. Those last few days and hours before the big event are filled with excitement, terror, joy, frustration, calm and panic. It’s the best time of all. At least it can be the best time of all. It can be if you’re open to the mood of the moment and the sometimes wild swings of emotions from well-placed confidence to abject terror. If this is your first time, the last few days before the goal event will be unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. The emotions feel like a cross between a surprise birthday party and jumping from the 100th floor of a building.

Here’s your first rule for race prep: Understand that whatever you’re feeling is normal. If you find yourself waking up in the middle of the night screaming — that’s normal. If you find yourself singing every Grateful Dead song you’ve ever heard — that’s normal. And if you find yourself suddenly living in a parallel universe where no one else seems to understand a word that you’re saying — that’s normal, too.

Don’t worry if your friends and family don’t understand you. Don’t worry if by the Thursday before race day no one is even willing to be in the same room with you, let alone try to have a conversation with you. These last few days are the closest to being possessed that you will ever experience. Rather than fighting it, enjoy it.”

Guess what!?! I’m normal! All of this is normal. I am not losing my mind with no hope of ever regaining it again. What a relief!

The storm clouds which had been gathered over my head all day dissipated enough to let a little ray of sunshine through.

I got a voice mail message earlier this week that referenced a couple verses in Colossians. So I pulled out my Bible and read them. It’s Col. 1:11 & 13. “Being strengthened with all power according to His glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience . . . For He has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son He loves.”

Isn’t it just like God to lead me to that passage on one of the darkest days I can remember?

To be honest, I’m still tired, my legs still hurt and I have to run 6 miles tomorrow. But my spirit is refreshed. And the end is in sight.

Moving a little slower, but still pressing on,
Lorrie