The More The Merrier: How My Family Make Me Faster

I've been running for two years now. My obsession started when a friend asked me to sign up for a 5k with her. Ever the competitive person, I signed up and almost immediately regretted the decision. Running was something I had never tried, and I am not a natural athlete.

My husband started running, and we ran that first race together, finishing seconds apart and supporting each other the whole way. Now we're way more competitive. He keeps me moving, gets me out the door when I don't want to go, and honestly makes me a faster runner. I do my best to keep up with him complaint-free in daily runs, just to show him I can, and he blazes past me in races, to prove he's faster.

One day, for no real reason, I forced my mom to run. She was nervous and doubted she could do it. When she discovered all she could endure, she took to running and has never looked back. Over the last year she's gotten better and better. And when my mom does something, she does it with our favorite family value: competitiveness.

She always wants that medal and blazes past others in the last stretch of every race. She always finishes smiling, pumped, and ready to do another race.

When my 72 year old grandfather learned his daughter was going to run her first race, he decided to join up. He started practicing, aiming to beat her, and now he runs all the time. He can run a full 5k and often beats people more than half his age. He gets some hugs along the course. He always wins a medal. He makes no excuses.

My family is addicted to competition and any chance at a medal or bragging rights. They make me a better athlete. When I get a text that Mom and Papa had a great 3 mile run, I feel lazy if I don't at least match it.


Also, if you've ever wanted to get in the local paper, grandpas are experts at this.

Exhibit A: Mom and Papa

Exhibit B: Papa and me

I'm so proud of my family every single day. In less than two weeks, Mom, Papa, and I will compete in our first race all together. Three generations of awesome competitive spirit. A little competition never hurt anyone, right? Right? (That picture from the paper coming soon...)

Published, New Races, New Year

I revamped my Athens Half Marathon Recap, and it was published in my local independent paper! The link is HERE. 

At the end of last year, I felt the heaviness of an empty race calendar. Now it's rapidly filling up, and I don't have the time or the money to do all the races I want to do. As of right now, I have an 8 mile trail run, a 5k, a 10k, and a half marathon all before the end of April. 

The 5k is the Athens Dawg Trot, the first race we ever did. We did it last year, and this year I am going for a PR. Bring it on, Killer Hill!

I'm making a resolution to post more often. Let's see if I keep it!

Athens Half Marathon Recap

After two weeks, I still find it hard to believe I actually finished the Athens Half Marathon. It seems a bit like an out of body experience. It's still hard to think that I can run 13.1 miles and finish smiling.


6:30 AM: We arrive at the start, and I immediately head for the porta-potties. It's still pitch dark outside, which makes that a scary experience. I'm barely out and into my water belt when officials start putting us in corrals. I kiss Anthony, who was nice enough to get out of bed and drive us downtown, and we get to our starting positions. Based on time, we joke that we are in the wrong place

This is me, laughing and bouncing to try and warm up.

I don't even have time to be nervous before we start running.


Miles 1-5: I've run most of the course in training runs, so I know this part is fairly easy and mostly downhill. People are already out with signs supporting runners. It makes me smile. The run seems easy at this point. My legs and feet, both of which have given me various problems this week, feel like they will last forever. I still pace myself not wanting to get overconfident, too fast, and burnt out.


Miles 6-7: These miles are by far the coolest experience I've ever had, and I share that forever with everyone who ran. At mile 6, my legs begin to get tired. I have just finished an energy gel and am waiting for the high to kick in.

Before it has a chance to, I hit Milledge Avenue. Flat for miles, this was always one of those easy but boring parts of my training runs. Not today. First, a crowd of 30 people has come out just to support Shawna, who is apparently somewhere near me. After we pass them, the woman beside me yells "Shawna has the best friends. She wins!."

Just a little farther down, a man in a black tuxedo sits on his lawn sipping red wine and yelling "Kudos" to passing runners. I laugh so hard I almost lose my breath.

At the end of Milledge, we turn onto a small road lined with neat houses. Turns out, this is their kind of excuse for a block party. As soon as we turn we are met with a jazz band. "Wow," I say as I smile.

Ahead of me, this whole road has come out to support us. Signs are everywhere. Balloons and music, so many people with their children, all there just to help us down their road. "You did this to yourself," one sign informs me.

An ambulance is blaring "Eye of the Tiger" as a paramedic did karate moves.

"Your neighborhood rocks," I yell at a resident. "I know," he says.

I hate turning off this road. I'd like to go and hug them all.

Miles 8-12: These are the boring miles. Fewer spectators line the roads, though there are a few groups that seem to teleport to different points to support their runners. "Weren't you near the start, then just on Milledge?" I ask an older couple. "We get paid by the stop," the man replies.

It is here that I notice I am just ahead of the 2:10 pacer. What! That's way faster than my goal, which was obviously based on my 0 experience running this distance and the fact that I thought I was going to fail miserably come race day. I know a big hill is coming, so I put a little distance between us for the moment.

There are some great people toward the end of this section of road. A group is standing on top of a small hill just helping motivate people to get up it. Also, the car blaring "Like a Rock" with all the doors open toward the end is awesome.

Hell (or the last mile): If there is a Hell and I end up there, it's just going to entail running this section over and over again forever. At the bottom of the hill, someone who had already finished the race has come back to encourage others to dig deep. This gives me a moment to get serious again. I have run everything to this point; I am running this hill.

This hill starts like any other but just keeps going. The course here narrows, and people keep stopping to walk. I have to zigzag around them to keep pace. Once I get to the top, we round a corner and yet more hill appears.

The woman beside me stops. "You've got this," I say, and she runs a little farther before she stops again, looking defeated.

I know the finish is downhill, but I barely make it up that hill. Toward the top, a sign reading "If it was easy, I'd be running" gives me the boost I need. I finish the hill and turn toward the finish.

The Finish Line: When I turn down the last street, it is empty, but I can hear a roar ahead. I run faster, knowing that it is almost over.

Going down that last hill is incredible. Out of nowhere, there are so many people and so much noise. I tear up as I hear my name announced and see my time. 2:08:28, way better than I'd hoped. As I cross the finish, I see Anthony with my mom and dad. They have tamborines, bells, and this awesome sign.

I've been beat up and spit out. I am elated, sad it is over, tired and hyper all at once. I've never worked so hard for anything in my life. So many early mornings, aches and pains, and emotions had led me to this point. I hug my family and almost chip a tooth by throwing on my medal.

I stick around to find my friends and exchange battle stories. I try to stretch my legs, but they lost all feeling long ago.

And just like that, it is over. The pain sticks around for a few days, but memories fade fast. I see why people run these addictively. The rush is the ultimate high, and after that you're just chasing the dragon.


Thanks so much to everyone who supported me, most of all Anthony, Mom, and Dad. It was amazing to see you all waiting for me at the finish. Also, congratulations to Melissa, Troy, and Adam, who all finished the race and kicked ass. I hope to see you all there next year, when Anthony and (hopefully) my mom will be joining us.

The Jitters

One week out from my first half marathon, I have an ailment rest and ice can't touch. I've come down with the jitters. After months of hard work and mornings up long before the sun, I feel completely unprepared.

My not-so-long run Saturday seemed harder than my longest run so far. It had been a long week, and I returned from an exhausting overnight trip to Pitttsburgh only to lace up and head out. My knees started to hurt immediately, and my mind followed suit. It filled me with thoughts of walking the race, of buckling leg cramps and stomach pain, of being passed by people walking.

The fact that lots of runners were out didn't help matters. I was passed twice by a man who was doing, at minimum, 120 mph. A woman with rock hard abs proudly on display ran with the perfect form of an antelope.

My mind finally convinced me to stop early. "Doomed," I texted my husband.

"Exhausted," he sent me back.

I returned home defeated. When he called I cried as I recounted the run that beat me. "You've already done all the work. It's done," he assured me.

Even with all the aches and heavy legs, the real reason I stopped was 100% mental. Going into this week, I am going to try and dope up as much as possible with positivity. The work is already done.

My body knows I can run this race; I just need to convince my mind it's possible.

That's Not How I Look in My Head: Race Photo Woes

I don’t know what cruel person invented the race picture, but I hope they’re really unphotogenic.

Before my very first 5k, the prospect actually piqued my interest. “I’ll have proof that I ran a race and looked good trying,” I thought. I took special care to pick out what I thought was a cute running outfit for the cold race morning, and after the finish I could barely wait to find the photos.

This is the finish line photo. In my defense, I never did see the person who took this. I was in my own little world.

I look like I may die. Maybe I’ve already died, and my body just hasn’t realized it yet. That's my husband with me, and he doesn't look great either. I was so excited to have finished my first race, and all you get from this picture is that I am running on empty.

As you can imagine, I never posted that one to Facebook.

When I ran that race again the next year, I had lost some weight and hoped for a Facebook-worthy picture. When I finished this race I imagined I was a butt-kicking running machine. I beat my previous year's time by almost 10 minutes.

Here's the photo I ended up with:

My clothes are way too baggy, and I look very angry, fairly close to serial killer mugshot angry. I'll say I look determined here if that makes it any better (which it doesn't). 

Would race pictures look better if we all smiled at the finish? Take this as Exhibit A that they wouldn't be:

This is not an official race photo. This is my sister with a camera, and I knew exactly where she was. I ran this 5k with my mom, and I was so proud of her for doing well that I threw on a smile for the photo. A giant cheesy, dorky smile. 

There are those out there with great race photos. They look amazing whenever and wherever they run. It looks effortless and very photogenic. I will never be that person. The best I can hope for is that when I do get caught on camera, I'm wearing a goofy smile and not the pallor of impending death.

I'll Get Bionic Knees!

Running 10 miles is not as hard as you'd think. I know, you're calling me a liar right now, but if you run often and train well the mileage starts to seem almost too easy.

Until you stop. The problem isn't the miles; it's the impact on your body after.

In training for the Athens Half, I've encountered aches and pains I wouldn't wish on anyone. Piriformis syndrome (my personal nemesis) has literally been a pain in my rear, a deep throbbing ache. Running gives me no problem at all, but sitting can be torture.

For two long weeks, I dreaded the drive to work and made every excuse not to work at my desk. I ate meals standing over the sink rather than subjecting myself to the dreaded chair. Stretches didn't ease it off, and ice barely helped.

My sister Katherine put it best. "You're an active person now. You're not allowed to sit."

Finally the pain wore off, and now it only starts if I sit for more than an hour.

After my long run last Saturday, my knees decided to let me know they weren't happy. My knee caps ached and snap, crackled, popped with every movement. "I'll get bionic knees," I thought as I struggled to bend my leg. "I'll be faster, too!" I worried that the problem might linger, but when Monday's run came, they didn't bother me a bit.

Through every ache, pain, and pop I've never thought to give running up. Maybe that makes me an idiot, but I can deal with the aftermath so long as I can still do the run. I love how I feel, who I meet, and what I accomplish. I'll run even if it means standing all day, and if my knees wear out, just pop me in a pair of bionic ones. Maybe they'll finally improve my time.