The Day My Life Forever Changed.

   Five years ago today I was pregnant with my first child. I was 18 weeks along and scheduled for the big ultrasound. Mark and I decided that it should just be the two of us that went that day (our families lived 8 hours away from us) and we wanted to be able to just celebrate and shop after we found out the baby's gender. Isn't that what every first time parent does?

   Mark and I both took the day off from work and I made sure I got the earliest appointment I could. We were so excited. I had felt for weeks that I was going to have a girl (a gender that is in short supply on Mark's side of the family). I was even stressed that my mommy instinct was off and that they were actually going to find that the baby was a boy. Yes, with all the things that can and do go wrong in pregnancy, that was my biggest worry. And honestly, most parents only worry about that. We all say we want a healthy baby first, but most of us are naive as to what that really means. And for good reason. The vast majority of babies born in the United States are healthy. Only a small percentage of parents have sick babies. So most of us never know the heartache and worry that comes with being a parent to a sick newborn. Thank heavens!

   I have always surrounded myself with people who have had less than normal beginnings with their children. I know several people whose babies were NICU babies, either born very early or with bodies that needed a little help from modern medicine. A family friend of mine had 2 children with clubbed feet (which increased her risk of having children with spina bifida). I even knew people who said goodbye to their babies at or shortly after birth. Still, until you yourself go through something less than normal, you have no concept of what wishing for a healthy child is really like. Unfortunately, I have since learned my lesson. 

On the right side is the top of Isabel's head. You can see a circle
with dots in the center. That is her brain. Without skull to cover and
protect the forming brain tissue, Isabel's brain was exposed and
and being damaged by my amniotic fluid.

   On July 29, 2009, we were doing our mid-term ultrasound. The ultrasound tech doing the ultrasound was very kind and we liked her instantly. Looking back, I feel awful for her. First thing she had to have noticed was that our precious baby was sick. The first images of her head clearly reveal, if you know what you are looking at, that her head was not healthy. Mark and I, however, had no idea what to look for, and were oblivious to the whole thing. The tech confirmed that she was, in fact, an Isabel and we cried in our excitement. FINALLY! A girl in the Gabica family. Our reactions to the ultrasound made the tech unable to tell us what was wrong with our daughter. She continued taking pictures of her head, and we had no idea that anything was wrong. How would we have known? This was the first time either of us had ever had an ultrasound like us. We did go on and on about how great having a girl will be, further making our tech unable to tell us what was wrong.

Another clear view of Isabel's head. Again, the stuff above her
eyes is exposed brain tissue.

   Let me assure you, we do not, repeat, DO NOT hold any negative feelings for our ultrasound tech. I honestly do not think they should ever have to tell the parent that their child is sick. That is what the doctor, who is confirming the diagnosis, is for. I am truly thankful that for one whole hour, Mark and I were able to appreciate Isabel without having the knowledge that anything was wrong. It would be the last hour of normalcy we would ever have as expecting parents. 

   Our first clue something was wrong happened as she finished our ultrasound. She said she had to go check something and left us to clean myself up. She came back and said that my doctor would like to see us. Odd. We walked across the hall of the hospital to his practice and was immediately lead back to an exam room. Mark and I were starting to worry at this point. What was this about? I have never heard of this happening to anyone I knew. Finally, Dr. G came in, fresh from surgery, to inform us that our baby had something called Anencephaly, which meant she had no skull. I broke down crying. A baby with a physical disability? How would I ever deal with that? He went on to say that babies with this condition could live if they are fed. I had no idea what he meant by that. Of course we would feed our baby! Never, in any of the discussion about what was wrong did our doctor tell us this was a fatal birth defect. Ever. We left his office picturing  our lives that would now be centered around helmets and wheelchairs. Not the reality that we would be planning a funeral and making end-of-life decisions. I really am disappointed and disgusted that our doctor didn't confirm that we knew what Anencephaly meant.

   We came home to call our families with the news. More crying. Lots and lots of crying. After we couldn't deal with telling one more person, we crumbled on the couch. Mark son jumped up exclaiming we had to get out of there. Now. We were running away to Vegas. Within a short couple of minutes Mark had booked us a room at the Luxor and we were packed and leaving the the hell-hole that was our lives. We arrived in Vegas a couple of hours later, shocked about our lives and needing some comfort. We spent most of the night in our room crying. After crying out every tear our bodies had, we ventured out to walk the Strip.

   In case you didn't know, I love Las Vegas. You can be anyone you want on the Strip and no one will notice anything wrong. So that is what we did. We were no longer parents to a sick baby. We were parents who were happy to learn we were having a girl. Strangers, not knowing our situation, congratulated us on our new baby. For one last night, we were pregnant with a healthy girl. It was exactly what we needed. We retired for the night a little after midnight, having spent way too much time watching the water fountains at the Bellagio. Honestly, a couple of water shows can fix any sour mood I am in.

   Morning came and the realization that we would have a child with disabilities woke me.  I cried in the bathroom for a long while before Mark awoke to join me. How would we ever do this? How did this happen? We had to know more. We came home, broken and in need of answers. 

   Mark was the first one to Google Anencephaly. Bad idea. The first website, Wikipedia, had truly disturbing pictures of babies with Anencephaly. And, incidentally, that is also the website that informed us of what we were actually facing. Our introduction into Anencephaly was the first paragraph of the entry on Wikipedia:

Anencephaly is the absence of a major portion of the brain, skull, and scalp that occurs during embryonic development.[1] It is a cephalic disorder that results from a neural tube defect that occurs when the rostral (head) end of the neural tube fails to close, usually between the 23rd and 26th days of conception.[2] Strictly speaking, the translation of the Greek term to English is "no brain" (that is, totally lacking), but it is accepted that children with this disorder are born without a telencephalon,[3] the largest part of the brain consisting mainly of the cerebralhemispheres, including the neocortex, which is responsible for cognition. The remaining brain tissue is often exposed, i.e. not covered by bone or skin.[4] With very few exceptions,[5] most babies with this disorder do not survive.

     Wait. "With very few exceptions, most babies with this disorder do not survive." What does that mean? More internet research turned up that most doctors push for termination of the pregnancy because 100% of babies with Anencephaly will die. A quarter of them won't survive birth. Most die in the first hours after birth. A few make it days or even weeks. Rare is the story of a baby with Anencephaly surviving more than that. Very very rare. Why didn't our doctor tell us this? Why were we finding this information out on the internet. Again, we went to bed crying. We knew, no matter what we did, we would bury our sweet Isabel.

   More internet research armed us with the information we needed to meet with the specialist in St. George. He confirmed Isabel's diagnoses and pushed for a termination. He told us we were stupid and terrible people for going on with the pregnancy. She will be in constant pain, if she can feel anything. We were just delaying the inevitable. And, I was putting my life at risk. There was a myriad of things that could go wrong and I could die. I knew what he was saying was a possibility, but I also knew with every fiber of my being that this was what I needed to do. 

Isabel's 32 week ultrasound. The only picture I really have of
her alive. I cherish this picture.

   If Isabel's life taught me anything, it taught me this, never judge how someone handles these decisions. Whether the parents carry to term or terminate, they are still losing a child. They are still going to have the same risk to have another one with neural tube defects. They are still mourning what could have been their whole lives. There is no pro-life or pro-choice discussion in this situation. There is only loss and grief and sadness. Never judge a mother making the either choice. They are just a parent doing what they either know or are told is best. We all have the same outcome. We all are losing a precious person from our lives. One we will never really know.

  I carried to term. Because I did develop complications, we chose to induce at 38 weeks and Isabel was stillborn on December 22. We never met her. The end of her life came when she got stuck because of her large body size. Maybe if I had induced earlier, I could have gotten her out alive? I live with my decisions every day. I don't know if the choices we made were the "right" ones or the "wrong" ones. I only know that I miss her. I know that she changed the way I view life. She changed how I feel about having more kids. It scares the crap out of me. Luckily, her sister came just 13 months later, before the numb of Isabel's death wore off. I still question wanting another one. And this day, five years after the day that my life forever changed, I still can make myself sick with worry that if we were to have another baby, we would have another with a neural tube defect. There is no real way to be assured that it won't happen again.

  I have changed as a person since that day. I have found a way to appreciate my body and not blame it for Isabel's death. Running has helped a lot. I have had some seriously spiritual experiences while running. Something about being tired and hangry (hungry and angry= hangry) and still miles from the car open me up to some of the best experiences I have ever had. I have ran crying, begging for forgiveness from Isabel and was met with peace and felt so surrounded with love. I have had extra bursts of energy when I though there was nothing left to give for miles. I have had the right person find me at my lowest point (usually Joshua) and been dragged to the finish. All of these gifts have made me stronger and closer Isabel and who I want to be. And it all started, five years ago today.

     

Walk if you have to...just never give up.

I never thought my home town of Twin Falls was pretty. This view changed my mind. #totesgorg

   After last weekend's hard but awesome PR race effort, I was pretty excited to dig in deep these last few weeks of marathon training and really focus on my September date with destiny. During my Monday run however, I had to stop and lay down because I didn't feel very good. I wasn't pushing hard and was just waking my legs up, but I only got a mile in and knew I had to stop for the day. There is always tomorrow. Then I woke up Tuesday with the worst UTI ever and, instead of running and training for the week, I was put on antibiotics and told to rest for the next few days.  When I asked if I could run on Saturday, my doctor told me that would be fine, until he found out it was a 17 mile run. With shock he replied "Maybe take it easier than that! You can not get dehydrated."

  Fantastic. Okay. So, I took it easy and thought about doing the 17 miler anyway. Don't worry, I chose not to do that. I did want to get some running in and needed to do something. Then the quote by Dean Karnazes came to mind:

“Run when you can, walk if you have to, crawl if you must; just never give up.”   

   So, thinking clearly, I decided to run my alma mater, the College of Southern Idaho, who has a mile loop around the campus. I could run as many loops as I felt like and would have my car there every circle so that I could refill my water bottle and snack as needed. And, if I needed to walk, then I could. Mark was going to run around the town and would meet me back at the campus. But, then I got a peek at the route he was going to take, I realized he was going to run along the Snake River rim. I really wanted to run there also. So, the plan was made that I would circle CSI until Mark got close to the rim, then I would drive and meet him at the trail and do the 5 mile section there. So that is what I did. I ran some, but mostly walked and did 3.5 miles at CSI and 5.76 miles (a few wrong turns later, I got back to the car) at the canyon rim. Despite being sick, I was able to do 9.27 miles and really learn to enjoy the beauty of the town I grew up in. Oh, and I saw several squirrels and a bunny! Yes, a real life, cute little white tailed bunny. My life is now complete. Here is a picture story of my run.

  

When we graduated with our Associate's Degrees in 2007, this sign was just completed and we got our pictures by it. I am very much in awe that here we are 7 years later taking a picture as we embark on another life changing event: running our first marathon.

One mile in.

Two miles.

Three miles. I got in .25 more miles before I went and met Mark at the rim.

I love this water fall. I got senior pictures by it 15 years ago. Please, don't do the math as to how old I am now.

#totesgorg on the view, yes?

When I met up again with Mark by the Perrine Bridge.

The water looks nasty, but the bridge is one of the coolest ones I have ever seen.

The view from the turn around spot. LOVELY!

My 5th Half Marathon: The Timp Half Recap.

Poor Mark. He hates how he looks in this picture. I love it. While he was stuffing his face with bagel, I was forcing him into pictures. This one is joked about in my running group as being a "racer's engagement photo."

    Wow! What a difference a week can make! On July 12 I ran the Hobbler Half and was incredibly disappointed in my performance. The course was much hillier than I gave it credit for and the canyon got hot very early on causing me to have a 3:01:51 finish on a race I was really chasing a sub-2:45 finish. I shed lots of tears over the whole experience and was disappointed all week.  This was race #3 where I was chasing a sub-2:45 and I still didn't get it. I was actually moving further from my goal! When will all my training pay off?
  My chance for redemption came this last Saturday.  Joshua, my running bestie, had an extra entry to the race and Mark was already signed up, so the entry was mine if I could find a place for Miss Addison to stay. Several babysitters later, we finally got our very great friends, the Copelands, to let her sleep over. Then, their child got super sick with a fever and I almost lost our babysitter at the last minute. Prayers, chants, and good thoughts were offered by everyone and their son's fever passed and the sleepover was back on. YAY!

The start line, the gorgeous view, and me. 

   So after staying with Addison until she felt comfortable in her place (which meant she went to sleep) until almost 10 PM and then waking up at 3:20 AM to get to the buses on time, Mark and I were ready to race. Who needs sleep when you can run on endorphins anyway? We met up with Christy, her friend Misty, and Angie at the buses and headed up to the top of American Fork Canyon. We met Josh, Susette, and the rest of our running group soon after getting off the buses. There is always a party atmosphere at the start line prior to race start because everyone has race nerves and at this point, ready or not, you just want to get the race over with. The time to prepare is over. And soon Joshua, who was pacing 2:40 (a doable goal for myself in this canyon race) and I set off down the canyon.
   The weather was perfect at the start. Not too cold, but not as hot as outside the canyon. The road we were running on was surrounded by tall cliffs that kept the temperatures almost perfectly cool the whole 7.5 miles of the canyon run. I kept with Joshua and Jay (the other 2:40 pacer) for the first 2 miles. They ran the perfect warm up pace. I always struggle the first couple of miles finding a good pace. You don't want to start out too fast, even on this downhill  portion, and finding a comfortable pace can be difficult. It was nice not thinking about it. I just ran beside Joshua and found inner strength and confidence for the race.
  Christy and Misty were also hoping to stay somewhat with the 2:40 pacers during the race. Both were nursing injuries and wanted to get out of the canyon before they closed it down. If you were still in the canyon after it closed, you were to be swept off the course and given a DNF. To make sure they made it, they tried staying either ahead of or with Joshua down the canyon. After the first 2 miles I realized that Jay and Josh were actually running too slow for how I was feeling that day (I always run by feel. That is what kind of runner you are when you run naked. That is without a GPS watch for you people who are trying to picture me without clothes. Perverts.). Soon I caught up with Misty and Christy and then I was past them too. I looked back to realize I could no longer see Joshua and Jay. I was racing with myself.
   The miles passed quickly. I didn't start the race with my music because I thought I would be staying with Joshua and talking the whole way down. As I sped up, I didn't feel the need for music. I chanted with myself to the beat of my breathing and watched the race unfold ahead of me. I could feel how good this run was going. It was amazing. It was just me, the road, and my happy thoughts. I knew at some point I would want my music, but in that canyon, in that moment, I just needed the run.
   All too soon, the canyon ended and we entered a trail for the last 5.5 miles of the race. After so much downhill, the hilly portion of the race attacked my legs and my perfect pace started to slow. I ran some of the hills, walked some. I knew this was costing me time I really wanted as a cushion at the last 10 miles, but hills are not my thing. You do what you have to do. We were also now in the warm valley and the heat was getting intense quickly. I knew that I would have to really push in order to finish at in the time goals I had set for myself.
   So I did. I ended up running most of the first 10 miles. I didn't do my usual run/walk intervals. I didn't need them. I ran everything but the steepest hills and just kept going. My head started hurting and I took Advil at the 9 mile watering station, but other than that, the race was going really well. At the mile 10 marker I reminded myself of something London said the night before "At mile 10 I just think, 'it is only a 5k.' You can do that!" I was being chased by a couple who pointed out as we passed the marker that we were 2:05 into the race. I thought at that point "If you try really hard, you can beat your 5k PR of 34.55! You would be a sub-2:40 racer!" Then the race got to me. The next mile was off the trail and on an incline. Not a hill, but a steady climb. I ran. Then, when I had nothing left, I was forced to walk. I kept looking back realizing that Joshua and Jay should be right behind me any minute and tried running some more.
   I don't know how to explain it, but it is like my tank ran out of gas. By the mile 11 watering station my head started really pounding. I was in trouble. After the watering station, the race joined the running trail again. It was at this point I looked back and saw Joshua. CRAP! I ran when I could, walked when my legs would go no further. The race because a game of beat those pacers. It was now really hot (in the high 80's) and my stomach started protesting at the effort I was putting out. I started looking for places to throw up. I could hear Jay coming behind me. Mile 12 came. I was still ahead, but not by much. I still hadn't put in my music and thought about doing it for motivation, but listening to Jay approaching was all the motivation I needed. Come on body. KEEP GOING. Jay and his now large group passed me. He yelled "Keep with us! You were so far ahead of us!" I was in the midst of trying to keep my cookies down and my head was pounding and I started wanting to quit. I was able to ascertain that Joshua was pushing another runner behind me. So I just wanted to finish before him. Still, there wasn't anything left to run on. Joshua and first time halfer, Jeremy caught me. We started running/shuffling through. We passed Monte, who was running extra miles after his PR race, who yelled that Mark rocked the race and crushed his PR. Of course he did.
   Joshua, sensing I had nothing left to give and my bad mood (I think the cuss words flooding out of my mouth tipped him off) started reminding me what I was doing this for. "Remember what you are running for. Remember a certain blog of yours? Your girls are still so proud of you. You are still going to get a PR today." I shed a tear. I shed a few. Sometimes realizing that you are a half marathoner and that you just did more in almost 3 hours than most people do all day is huge. It really is a spiritual experience. You are more tired than you have ever been and emotionally spent and in that vulnerability, you find out who you really are and how much self worth you truly have. You can go 13.1 miles! That is huge.
  The course ended on a high school track. You entered the school and ran around the track to finish. I fully expected to meet Mark at the beginning of the track portion to help me run in. Instead, I met him about 1/2 mile from the end. I LOVE THAT MAN! He ran with me and lied about it being downhill (it obviously wasn't). He also was met with all the love I could show at that moment "Bleep, bleep, bleep, hot races, bleep, why?" Apparently hangry hot runner Jill is a drunken sailor. Did I mention that the more I cussed, the funnier Josh thought the whole situation was and the more he laughed. If I didn't like Joshua so much, I would have punched him.

Robert's picture of me coming in to a PR!

In that moment, it was just me, the clock, and my girls
 pushing me across the  finish line. Poor Joshua
 was left in my dust. 

  We entered the track and I knew at that point, there was no more walking. I had to just GET THE RACE OVER WITH and NOW! Mark was right, the flat track did feel easy and downhill and my pace sped up a bit. Then, it happened. I saw the race clock as we rounded the 200 meter mark. It read 2:43:something. I HAD TO BREAK 2:45 by as much as possible! I took off like a bullet from a gun. I started hearing Joshua yelling, then others from my running group joined him. "JILL! GO JILL!"  It was loud. It was a moment every runner dreams of ending a race with. I passed someone, and caught up to another. I finished with every single scrap of energy I had, and some that was given to me by Isabel, no doubt.  I left every last shred of myself out on the course and it felt so good. I ended it the exact way I wanted to: with a PR and with my husband, friend, and baby by my side. My official time was 2:43:08.4. I crushed my previous PR set in May of 2:51:25. Honestly, there has never been a better ending to a race in my book.
   I was delirious after I crossed the line. Joshua grabbed me and gave me the biggest hug. Sonja, who was in the race corrals, joined us. Soon I realized there were others there too. London, Robert, Susette, Mark, Josh, and Sonja were all there. It overwhelming and I have never felt so loved and supported in my life.  I am still in awe of all the wonderful people I surround myself with and how amazing every single one of them are to me. I am very grateful for my running group. Thank you.

Sonja, Joshua, Mark and I just after I received my medal. 

  Mark did, in fact crush his PR. London, being the awesome friend she is, promised to push him to a sub-2:00 finish. She lived up to her word and was nicknamed by Camille and Mark (who were both wanting the same time goal) Slave Driver. Maniac was another loving nickname. I heard that at one point during the hilly portion of the race (a portion that London excels at because she is unnatural and insane, clearly) London got ahead of them and was found sitting on a bench teasing Camille and Mark about their pace. Camille soon realized just how intense the pace was (she is just getting over being sick) and backed off, leaving Mark to fend for himself. Mark crossed the finish line with a 1:55 finish.  At least, that is what we think happened. Somehow his timing chip got activated when the marathoners set off a half an hour before us half marathoners and his official race time was 2:25:36.3. We are working on fixing it.

Finished and ready
to race again.

Mark crushed his last PR
by 10 minutes!

   Of course, the race ended with me stuffing my face, the necessary post race pictures, and the realization that I would do this again next week. I know in my heart that I need to wait to race again until my marathon so I can just focus on my training. but racing is like childbirth: You regret doing it in the hardest parts of your journey, then it is over and you start to recover and want to do it again. I told Joshua I never wanted to race again in mile 12, then after a piece of bread, a banana, and a cookie, I couldn't wait to race again. The hangries always get me. And as we walked from the race to our car to go pick up Addison  (who slept the whole 12+ hours we were gone), I realized that I had sweat so much that my phone had water in it while riding in my sports bra. It now sits in rice drying out. It will probably always carry memories of this race, just like I will.
  Joshua also wrote about his pacing experience. It is a must read.

I love this picture. I am so thankful I ended the race
with these two amazing men by my side.

 

The Run Aways. I love this group.

Leaps of Faith

   In my last blog post I created a new motivational wall to help inspire me with my new running goals (a sub-2:45 half marathon and completing my first marathon in September). I have looked at the pictures I posted probably 100 times in the last few days since my last disappointing half.

Probably my favorite motivational picture right now.

    Look, I know every race isn't going to be a PR, life changing race. They all can't be that. There are a lot of factors that make a race the best race you have ever ran: race organization, runner preparedness, health status, temperatures, mental state, the amount of sleep you have had, and pure luck. If all those things aren't perfectly aligned, this race may not be your best race. It can still be a good, even a great race, but it may not be the one you think of as your best race. 

   I feel like I have had my share of good and bad races. This last one was probably my worst half. My worst race ever was this ultra-5k I did last July. There were lots of factors making it a terrible race: It was actually 4.4 miles and not the 3.1 I was promised. It was HOT (almost 100 degrees at the start). There were tons of bugs out and I was bit over 30 times. I got the worst migraine I have ever had because of everything that went wrong. It was a night race and apparently, I should avoid those at all costs. It was terrible, but I also learned a lot from it, so there is something. 

   The problem with bad races is this, they make you never want to race again. After last Saturday, I really thought at mile 10 that if I never raced again, I would be okay. But honestly, I wouldn't be okay. Racing does two things for me: First,  it makes all the other running I do have a purpose (I really only run so I can get a medal, which means I run so I can race). The second thing racing does for me is it proves what I can do. The hilly courses I have ran at both Salt Lake and this last weekend have taught me that I really must do hill training if I really want to do well on any course. Now, have I taken that lesson seriously? Obviously not.

   That leads me to my point, it is my own fault that I am not the runner I want to be. If I want to be faster, and more steady, and better at hard courses, then I need to train for those things. And all of these goals come down to one thing: hill/hard course training. It is the leap of faith I have to take in order to be who I want to be. But, I avoid hard runs like the plague. And part of my current excuse for that is that I am running a 18 mile substantially downhill marathon in September, I have to be trained to do that so I don't get injured. So yes, I do need to train for downhill. However, because I am trying to make all my long runs downhill runs, I am refusing to train for the 8 miles that is a roiling hill course. That is going to cost me dearly during the race.

    And it is a price I have already been paying. I see it in my current racing and training situations. If I am not running downhill, I feel like I am running with concrete legs. Instead of pushing through like I should and need to do, I am letting myself slack off in my training. And I am already seeing the effects of my laziness. I am struggling to get through my runs. I am really seeing it in my race times. Still, I am refusing to take that jump and just do what I need to do.

   I am not sure why I am doing this. Is it because I am too lazy to become who I want to be? Am I self sabotaging because I am afraid of who I will become (which I don't understand because why wouldn't I want to be awesome?)? Is it because I know how to be so/so and getting out of that comfort zone is something I don't know how to do? I don't know. 

   Sometimes I feel like it would be easier if I had someone pushing me, like a running coach, but in the end, I really know it comes down to me. You can pull a thread easier than you can push one, and I have to allow myself to be pulled.  And that in the end is the real problem. I don't know what it is that is holding me back, but I am like a tree rooted deeply that is absolutely refusing to be pulled. Even if the outcome is better than my current station in life. 

   Still, I don't know how to be any different. I don't know where the drive comes from in me. I am not sure how to access the courage I need to do the work I need to do. I know in a way I don't take myself seriously whenever I am doing something extraordinary.  Which is weird, because even I can see that I have done some truly amazing things like getting my college degree, competing on my high school and college speech teams and getting awards often, running races, taking leaps of faith to live on my own in many different places. However, I tend to hold myself back, usually only doing things halfway. I really would like to not be that way anymore. 

   So I guess this is my question, to you the reader, where does the courage to do something great come from? Is it all a self-esteem problem? It is just a work issue? What have you done to help you accomplish your hefty goals? I would really love your comments and suggestions on this.    

Time For A New Motivational Wall

  I do a lot of Pinteresting (this probably isn't a word, yet, but it will be). A lot. And one of the biggest trends in the fitness world is to make your own motivational wall. There are some really cool ones people have put on Pinterest, like this one:

I found this here.

   I have thought about making one myself. Instead, I made one on my blog when I was training for my first half. When I am having a rough day, I go back and look at that entry and steel cheer myself up. However, I have noticed that I am beating myself up a lot more than usual lately, as seen here. My race times are not what I want them to be. My training runs are harder to accomplish than I think they should be. I am really questioning if I can even finish a marathon at this point. And all of this self doubt is creating a very emotional Jill. It is time for a new motivational wall.

  I was recently on Pinterest looking at some of my motivational quotes and found all of these to be my new favorite quotes in my hyped up, marathon training state. I hope they help you as much as they do me.

   So go, be motivated!

Why Is Running Getting More Difficult To Do? (Hobbler Half Marathon Recap)

Bib? Check. Historic timing chip? Check. Time to race!

    Yesterday I ran my 8th race (4 5k's and 4 half marathons). I was really looking forward to this half because it was down a canyon and I assumed it was going to be downhill. I really need to start taking elevation charts more seriously.

Waiting for my ride at
4:30 AM. I have strange
ideas of fun.

   The race was a 6:30 AM start (which probably wasn't early enough in the Utah July heat), so I had to be to the buses between 4:30 and 5:25 AM. Even though we stayed at a hotel close to the race, that still meant a 3:55 AM wake up call. I was very lucky to have a great husband that took Addison to get me a banana the night before so I could go to sleep by 9 PM and to have a good friend, Camille, who came to take me to the start line so said husband could get extra sleep with Addison.

Camille and I riding the bus to
the top.

   We were able to get on the buses by 5 and headed up to the top so we could do the pre-race porta-potty visit. The lines were long, but we got through in good time and found several of our running group friends to start the race with. I was a little worried that it was so warm already at the top of the canyon. I was just in my running tank and was more than comfortable. I knew it would be a hot race (it was supposed to be in the mid-90's) and slightly muggy from the rain the day before, but I was hoping it would be colder up the canyon. I hoped the warming temps would force me to run faster.

Kasie, Camille, Brook and I at the start.

   I came into the race hoping for a 2:45 or better finish time, and take at least 6 minutes off of my previous PR set on a flat-ish course. And since I had 2 more months of training under my belt, I felt it was doable. The race had pacers and Camille (who really is much faster than I) and I fell in with the 2:30 pacer (the slowest one of the race other than the sweeper) as we crossed the start line.  We started off at a really fast pace (for me anyway) because of the downhill start and I finished my first mile around a 10 minute mile pace, just ahead of the 2:30 pacers who were struggling to slow to the correct pace. Camille was able to really find her legs and I lost her soon after, so I stayed with the 2:30 pacers who had finally figured out the right running speed for a 2:30 finish. I stayed right by them for the first 3 miles, then within striking distance for the next mile. I knew I couldn't finish the race at the speed they were going, but knew if I kept them in sight, I would be able to get my 2:45 or better easy. At mile 4 I walked while I ate some Trader Joe's fig bar (the only thing other than Sport's Beans I can stomach while running) and quickly got back with-in sight of the 2:30 pacers.
   Things were going okay. It was getting hot and I had a couple of people ahead of me I also was secretly racing with, so I thought I would stay at a good pace to finish. Then I saw the mile 6 bathrooms and knew I better make a pit stop. I was worried about trying to catch back up, but I also know that if you have to go potty at all during a race, you go the first chance you get or there may not be another porta-potty.
   I rejoined the race and noticed just how hot it was getting for the first time. We left the road we were running on and started on a trail that climbed up beside the road. I knew there was a hill or two in this area based on the elevation chart, and had planned to walk quickly up the hill and down the other side. However, I was not planning on what turned out to be almost 3 miles of hills and an other mile of rolling roads. During this rough stretch there was also a lack of mile markers and water stations, so I was truly thankful for the water I was carrying.
   The heat was getting to me. I am the worst runner ever in some respects. I hate hills and try not to train on them, but I have a knack for finding races that are hilly courses. I always cuss myself out for not running more hills in training and swear I will never run a hilly course again only to find myself on one the next race I run. I was running alone and hot and getting a migraine and then I started burping and dry heaving. I fell in with 2 girls running/walking together and we were joined by another one before the mile 9 watering station. We bonded over our annoyance that the course wasn't marked with mile markers and enough watering stations in the heat. You can always make a friend at any race you run.
   Mile 9 ended the hilly trail portion and we again were running in the streets. We ran through the towns of Mapleton and Springville, where the finish-line was waiting us. By mile 10 and after 4 miles of hills, I had had it with the race. My tummy hurt. It was hot, really hot. I had a headache. I just wanted to be done. I looked at the time and realized if I wanted to finish in my goal time, I would have to run 10 minute miles. This was no longer the downhill portion I had at the first and my legs were not going to do it, so I walked along, my new friends getting ahead of me on their next running stint.
   Then the best thing that could have happened to me other than the finish-line being moved closer, I was passed by a fast walker. Channeling my inner Leslie Sansone, I let me feet catch the beat of my music and I started walking. I regularly run in place/ walk to her walking videos and knew that I could fast walk 3 miles just fine, even in the horrible heat. So I walked and thought about what Leslie would tell me if she were there. That carried me through mile 10 and even helped my pass all my new friends. The original lady that passed me fast walking had much longer legs than mine and she stayed ahead of me, but I chased after her. Mile 11 was pretty good also. There were a couple of downhill portions that I ran and then kept to my fast walking pace. Mile 12 came and I knew I would be out of my misery soon.
   But sometimes, things don't go as planned. Obviously. Right after the mile marker, Isabel's song happened.

     I keep this song on my playlist because I like being reminded of why I do this in the first place. I cried the first time I heard it on my playing list, but usually the song brings me strength and I like to think it is Isabel letting me know she is there.  However, in my hot/tired/and hormonal state (yeah, hormonal. This race had the perfect storm), I feel apart. I was bawling and couldn't keep my crap together. I even was asked by an officer who was helping us through an intersection if I was going to make it. I almost said no. Almost.
   I started really questioning my choices. Why do I run? Why isn't this getting any easier? Why is everyone around me getting so much faster and I am not improving at all? Why does my body kill my children and hold me back in running? I also figured out my pace and realized I was walking FASTER than I had ran/walked miles 6-10. I started spiraling. How am I going to run a marathon if I can't even finish a half in under 3 hours reliably? I was weeping all the tears I have been bottling up for a really long time. All of my self hate came pouring out, and I was still very much in public. Finally, I was able to contain myself and ran into Kasie and friends probably less than 1/4 a mile from the finish-line. They gave me the hope I needed to run to the finish.

Finishing without Addison.

   At some point during the race I had decided that I wanted to finish with Addison. By the time I got to her though, she refused to come with me and had a tantrum at me picking her up. Bewildered, I crossed the line with the clock at 3:03-something. My official time was 3:01:51. I might have been sub-3 if I didn't stop to try and get Addison. By the time Mark found me I started crying again and was so mad at myself. Why can't I be faster? How much training do I have to do to start seeing results? Why is it so much easier for everyone else?

It wasn't the finishing time I wanted, but they still
gave me a medal anyway.

   In my haze, we didn't take a medal picture of me at the race. I did, however, get a massage before we headed back to the hotel to shower and head home. It wasn't until we were home I realized I forgot to get the post race pictures I wanted so we took one of me at home. Eh, it happens.
  I still don't know how to feel about the race. I REALLY am mad about my performance and, for the first time ever, feel a lot of self hate and doubt about my running future. I have been running for 2 years. I should be seeing better gains than I am. Why is everything so much harder for me than it is for everyone else around me in this sport? That is how it feels right now. I am the only one I know that struggles to get healthy babies here and isn't a good runner and can't lose weight without having to starve myself while training. I really am struggling. The only thing that could top this whole experience off is my husband signing us up for our marathon today. Talk about the cherry on top.  I guess I better figure all this out before September.  

Some of My Best Friends Train For Marathons With Me

It's a selfie, of a selfie, of a selfie. Coolest group picture to date.

   Mark and I are now on week 9 of our marathon training schedule. It is hard. It takes a lot of time. The more I train the more I feel like this is an impossible task I am undertaking. I seriously think I have lost my mind in signing up for this race. But then, almost every Saturday, we lace up our running shoes and meet some of our running group for a training run.

   The cool thing about our running group is that we have runners of all levels and with all kinds of different goals. Some are chasing a Boston qualification. Some are training for a faster race time. Some for their first (fill in the blank) race. Others have been there, done that, and are still racing, but not specifically training for this or that. That is why I love our group. We have 12 minute milers-7 minute milers and everyone has SOMEONE they can run with. And when we do these training runs, we work so that everyone, no matter how far they plan to run or how fast, has other people there to run with. Honestly, my running group changed my life.

   Last Saturday Mark and I met our group at Big Cottonwood Canyon (the site of our first marathon) to run the first 15 miles of the race, the complete downhill portion. This canyon is no joke. We drop around 4000 feet in 15 miles. That is a large drop. That is why we are trying to do it several times before the race. If you don't train it, you will get hurt during race time. That is no bueno. 

   The run was good. It was HOT. Like 80 something degrees when we started and in the mid 90's when we were done. And there were dead snakes in the road. And if you know anything, you know a dead snake means there are faster, smarter, and now more angry snakes not too far away, waiting to kill the first human to revenge the fallen. So, yeah. Josh learned all sorts of new cuss word combinations when we saw those...

   But, I digress. I am so thankful that we did the run. I am thankful that there were so many people who showed up to run with us. I am thankful to have met so many people who are so supportive to Mark and I. I would not be trying to run a marathon without all of this support. So, thank you to the Run Aways. Each of you have been amazing and we just love every chance we get to run with you.

   I am also thankful for people like Becca from my group who were so forthcoming during their first marathon training process. Even though her race didn't go as planned (she still rocked Ogden, even with heat exhaustion!), she did so much to inspire me to want to try a marathon. And I just have to take the time to thank her. Thank you Becca. You are a running machine to me and I, for one, and so glad you were so vocal. You totally convinced me to try the marathon Kool-aid. And I am grateful to you.

  So here is to week 9 of marathon training and this weekend will be my next race, Hobbler Half. 

   

Isabel Cookies

   This month marks the 5 year anniversary of Isabel being diagnosed with Anencephaly.I have reflected on her life many times, even putting it down into words here. As a parent it is hard to "move on." I am ALWAYS thinking of her, thoughts of what our time with her was like lurk in my mind permeating all my thoughts. Sometimes, when I am really missing her, I reach out for one of the 3 things she enjoyed most on this Earth" popcorn, Barq's root beer, and Butterfingers. There wasn't many days that went by while I was pregnant that I didn't have a Butterfinger and a Barq's root beer. And we still remember her in that way.
   However, I wanted to think of a way to honor Isabel in my favorite dessert, chocolate cookies. Today it hit me like a ton of bricks: ADD IN BUTTERFINGERS! And wouldn't you know it, I am going to a running event with my running group and will need something to share with everyone. And since I run for Isabel, I couldn't think of a better treat to bring.  So I dug into my stash and made these little yummies today. The crushed Butterfinger almost makes the whole cookie taste like a Butterfinger. How bad can that be?

Mmmmm. Drool! You know you want some.

Isabel Cookies

 Ingredients:

¾ c. unsalted butter, softened

¾ c. brown sugar

¼ c. granulated sugar

1 egg

2 tsp. vanilla extract

2 c. all-purpose flour

2 tsp. cornstarch

1 tsp. baking soda

½ tsp. salt

1 c. bittersweet chocolate chips

1 regular sized Butterfinger, crushed

Directions:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. In a bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, cream butter and sugars together until fluffy. Add egg and vanilla and blend. Mix flour, cornstarch, baking soda, and salt. Stir in Butterfinger and chocolate chunks. Drop by tablespoon onto prepared cookie sheet. Back 8-10 minutes, until barely golden brown around the edges. DO NOT OVERBAKE! Makes around 3 dozen cookies.

  These are really hard for me to resist. But since I need to take some tonight and wanted some for my freezer for my family coming this weekend, I have managed to only eat one. Hey, I have to taste test! I wouldn't want to take something gross to the group!

So go. Enjoy. And do it right by savoring these with a Barq's root beer. It is a magical combination.

I bet this was a scratch and sniff picture, don't you?