my dad...

My Dad is having a birthday tomorrow. My wonderful dad. 77 years old. That doesn't seem right to me. He seems so much younger. He is still so handsome. This picture is almost 10 years old, but it is exactly how I always picture him. With a camera around his neck and a smile on his face. I want to share with you a few of my favorite memories of him:

*Phillies games. I don't know how many years we went to these together, but it feels like a lot. It was our special thing. Just us. I have less memories about the actual games, than I do of how I felt there. I felt important. And really, really happy. I do remember a hot dog guy who would walk all over the stadium, shouting, "Hey have a hey! Hey, have a hot dog!" We have laughed about that for the last 25+ years. I swear I heard the guy when I was watching a Phillies game a few years ago, though I realize that probably isn't possible. Maybe his son or something. Anyhow, I want to thank my dad for setting aside that time for me. I realize now, as a parent of many, that is not easy to do. It takes a lot of planning. It's a gift actually...to make all your children feel like they are your favorite.

*Going to the temple together, just days after I had been through for the first time. I was very nervous about it. I didn't want to go back. I really didn't. Or at least I thought I didn't. My dad knew I needed it. He never turned around to head home. He just kept driving towards the temple, then I truly feel was told by the Lord what to say to me to calm my worries. I will remember that day, that conversation, that drive, for the rest of my life.

*Our drive to the Hill Cumorah Pageant. I was going to be in it by myself that summer, so he was dropping me off. It was a long drive. It was very close quarters. I don't know that I had EVER been alone with my dad in the car for that long. You know what though? It was great. We had great conversation and great music. I remember listening to my John Denver cassette tape over and over and over. I loved that we both loved it. It made me feel even more connected to him than I already did.

*I love the conversations we have on the phone. He isn't much of a chatter, so when we talk, it means something. There have been many times over the last 20 years (when I left home), that I have needed him. REALLY needed him. Just hearing his deep, soft voice on the phone would calm me. I love the advice he gives me. I love how silly he has gotten with age. :) I love when he tells me he is proud of me.

*I love his letters. I have stacks of them. I can't even tell you how often I pull one out when I am feeling low. They inspire me and uplift me.

I love my dad. I think we chose eachother before we came. I really do. I hope this is the best 77th birthday ever!

*I thought it might be fun if any of you reading could post your favorite memory of my dad.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JRT!

tamales...

This is Consuela. She sells tamales on 800 N in Provo most days of the week. They are $1.25 each. You choose chicken, pork, or cheese. Or all of them. They are the best tamales I have ever tasted in my long life. Michelle and I first tried them about a year ago, on a whim. We saw this darling little hunched over lady selling them from her cooler/wagon, and thought we'd better try them. She doesn't speak a bit of English. You point to the variety you want on a card, then hold up fingers to let her know how many. I could eat her. She is smiley. We like to have her keep the change.

My name is Amy, and I am addicted to Consuela's tamales. I need them every day. It used to be that if I passed her while driving down the road, I may stop and grab a few. Now, I drive over there for the sole purpose of visiting Consuela. I will drive over twice if she isn't there in the morning. When I see her big sign sticking out, my heart skips a beat. I will eat one before I have turned back onto Geneva. My kids are nuts over them. We all are. I have cash in my wallet just for her. I don't really carry cash. I like my money in the bank. I have had 2 photoshoots in the last 4 months and have been hanging onto that money so I can buy myself a few new shirts before the beach in July. My shirt stash is quickly shrinking. It's going to tamales. I can't help myself. Michelle and I have a pact. If we ever drive by and she's out, we'll be sure to buy 2 extra for eachother. I bought 8 today. $10. One less shirt for me.

a few more thoughts...

I was able to post more pictures...yay! So, I thought I would post a little more about my day Saturday. Things I want to always remember. Things I learned. First of all, I learned a lot from Tara. I will cry as I type this and I've cried every time I think about it. Tara has taught me so much in the past few days about being Christlike. I have mentioned this before, but this is her 5th marathon. She is a much more experienced runner, and came into this race much more trained than me. For the last few months, I had assumed I would be running it alone. She was ready to run the race of her life. To PR. After our long run 2 weeks ago, I realized she planned on us running together. I can't tell you the sense of relief I felt. Now I KNEW I could do it. It was just another long training run. :)

For the first 14-15 miles, I felt like I was keeping up. When I hit my wall at the end of mile 15, I worried a little. I didn't want to hold her back. I had to walk a few times over the next 5-6 miles. At times it was due to my cramping leg, at others it was just to breathe. She would stop and walk with me. She would talk me through it. Finally at mile 21, my leg just wouldn't stop giving me trouble, so she went ahead. Her pace immediately picked up to what was natural for her and her long legs. I secretly prayed she would beat her old PR of 3:53. She missed her goal by 2 minutes.

Over the last few days, I have had moments where I have become discouraged and frustrated. Not with my performance, but that I had yanked her goal out from under her. Take away the many times I made her walk "for just a sec" and she would have had it. She just doesn't see it that way though. She really doesn't. She is proud of her performance. She believes those walking breaks gave her the umph she needed to finish strong. She feels so much joy in knowing I finished and she helped me do it. And that is where we are different. She sees the positive, and I see the negative...or at least my mind tries to convince me to. I want to be that person that rejoices at other people's successes, even if they are at the detriment of my own. I want to be that person who sacrifices what I want so that someone I love can have what they want. It has given me a lot to think about. I love Tara for all she did for me that day.

I think many of my tears on Saturday were a result of the support I felt all around me. I have mentioned it many times now, but the support I felt from my family and friends was enormous. It lifted and carried me. It calmed me down when I started to feel anxious. It gave me energy when I was feeling weak. When my friends and family weren't around me on the course, the Lord placed other people right where I needed them. During the last mile, I even saw "Go Amy" twice written in chalk on the road. Those notes weren't written by anyone I knew, but I have no doubt that they were for me. I smiled and cried tears of gratitude when I saw them. Strangers became dear friends during that last few miles. Encouragement was coming from every direction.

At one moment, I very clearly saw the correlation between this race and life. I have people who love me everywhere. I have many loved ones who have gone ahead. I could hear my cousin Paul yelling, "Go Amy!" My nephew Kay shouting,"You've got this!" My grandparents cheering, "We know this is hard. You can do it though." We all have cheering sections. Some are right beside us, some aren't. Some have gone ahead and have a much more complete knowledge and understanding. They are there, hands out, shouting encouragement, helping us through those hard things. As we run down that finishing chute, through those gates and across the finish line, they are jumping up and down, tears streaming down their faces, celebrating with us.

Most of all though, the Lord loves us. He loves me. He made me. He cheers for me. I could feel it on Saturday. I know He is there. I know I matter to Him. I know he rejoiced with me when I crossed that finish.

my marathon...

I am not really even sure where to start with this post. I ran a marathon! 26.2 miles! I have wanted to do this for awhile now, I just can't believe it actually happened. Yesterday was one of the most amazing, rewarding, exhausting days of my life. Happy. I was/am just so happy. Training for this marathon started in January. I was ready to go. Having been sidelined last May when I was supposed to run Ogden, I needed to do this. I needed to get a marathon under my belt. I needed to see that it was possible and that I was capable.

At the end of January, I started having some serious pain in my left calf. I now know that that was a stress fracture in the making. I ran on it for 2 months, then at the beginning of April, was told by my Dr. to stop running temporarily. I missed a total of 8 weeks of training. :( I worked really hard at the gym, hoping to keep my endurance and my desire. It worked. It really did. I could NOT have finished yesterday without all my hard work. BUT...I was only able to complete one 17 mile run (in March), a 13 miler (3 weeks ago) and one 20 miler (2 weeks ago). Tara had another 20, a 22, and a few others in between.

Going into this race, I felt confident and I felt calm. If you know me...I don't really do calm. It's just not in my nature. I am a worrier. A worrier with extreme anxiety. I KNOW that prayers said by me and those said in my behalf were heard. Not just heard, but answered. Could yesterday have been better? Maybe. That doesn't change the fact that I know the Lord heard and was supporting me yesterday.

Friday night, the James' and the Schofield's went out to dinner (I have pictures to post, but can't seem to get blogger to work). I still felt calm. It was good to laugh and distract myself from the thing I knew should be stressing me out. Nick and Tara picked me up the next morning at 3:30. I had actually slept for about 5 hours the night before. I'll take 5 hours the night before my first marathon. :) Thursday night was even better...more like 10. :) I was calm on the whole bus ride up. I was looking at this race as a long training run. I knew I could keep an 8:45 pace, and I knew I could keep it for a long time. My dream was to get in under 4 hours. Not just to finish, but to finish strong at 3:5x. I didn't care how close to 4 it got, I was just really hoping to break that hurdle. I didn't though...and that's ok. I am thrilled with my performance!

Tara and I had driven the route earlier in the week. I am so glad we did. I (kind of) knew what to expect. We had been watching the weather really closely to see what Saturday would hold. Well, it held cooler temperatures, but also wind. The wind terrified me. It really did. Wind is hard. It would be sunny during that last 6 mile stretch down University Avenue. The hardest stretch, and the one with no shade. Oh well...I would just go for it. Hang with Tara. Do the VERY best I could. Tell my mind to get out of my body's way.

The race started off so great. It was nice and cool up in Wallsburg. Their elevation is nearly 6500 ft. The first few miles were a pretty steady downhill, followed by a few miles of fairly flat. Our pace was great. I felt good. Strong. Confident. We had a few quick miles in there. A little quicker than I wanted, but I knew there were hills and lots of them coming up and a few faster miles would help me mentally. There was a handful of times where I got teary during that first hour. I was running a marathon! I was actually doing it! I had a great support running right beside me. I was so, so happy.

Once we reached Deer Creek (7.5 miles), we turned to head down Provo Canyon. It wasn't really down though. I knew it. We had driven it. The hills were big, but I liked hills. I liked that I could see the top of the next few in front of me. Our pace stayed right where it needed to, but the exertion level intensified. The wind had started. It was fierce. I don't know the exact mph, but I know that it had been forcasted as 16 mph, coming from the south, right in our faces. Hills are hard. But you push through them and get your reward at the top. The bottom drops out from under you, and you sail. Your legs recover, your breathing slows down, and it can feel fairly effortless. But not yesterday. The wind was so strong that the downhill became difficult. Our breathing never had a chance to regulate. The wind was pushing against us while we were supposed to be flying. For at least 10 miles. Those 10 miles were insanely difficult. We stopped at every aid station (every 2 miles) to drink and catch our breath. I realize now, that I took too much time at them. My body would tighten a little, and my core would begin to cool. I was just so darn tired. My energy was sapped.

At about 15 miles, I hit my wall. 15 miles! This wasn't supposed to happen until 20 or later. What was going on??? I was so worried. I told Tara something had changed in my mind. I no longer knew if I could do it. I was so, so tired. My will was gone. The thought of 10+more miles made me cry a little. How had this happened so soon? I'll tell you how...wind and hills. It's a tough combination. Anyhow, Tara told me to push through one more mile and I would be through that wall. The rest of the race wasn't doomed. I just had to get through it and keep going. It worked. It really did. I felt good for the next while. We saw Dave and the kids somewhere around 18-20. I was SO happy. I had to walk and cry for a minute. Why not RUN and cry? I don't know. The whole day was just so overwhelming for me. We saw them several more times during that last stretch. They gave me strength. So did my friends I saw along the way. My wonderful friends who gave up their Saturday morning to support Tara and I. I have a few more thoughts on that later, but let me just say this. I love them.

Something started happening just before mile 20. I started having a cramp in my right calf. Not my injured leg. That one held up just fine...the whole time. The cramp was intense. It would only last a few seconds, but it made me feel like my leg would buckle. I had seen videos of people hobbling across the finish line with their legs so tight they could hardly move. That just couldn't be me. I walked a few times with Tara, then realized they really weren't going to totally go away. I couldn't keep up with her anymore. It was an easy conversation. You go ahead. Kick butt. I'll see you at the finish. I think she was hesitant. She was worried. She didn't want me to give up. But see, I KNEW there was no giving up. I was NOT going to quit.

The next 5-6 miles were hard, but not as hard as you would think. The cramping started happening a lot more frequently. I would have to stop, bend over and rub my calf until it relaxed. Then I would slowly start shuffling again until I got up to speed. Before I knew it, the cramping would be back. I knew Gatorade and bananas would help. They did. A lot. Just not enough to ever make it go away. So...this is what I did. I told myself that if it wasn't cramping, I needed to be running. As soon as it did, move to the side, rub it out, then start again. My left leg actually started in on it too, but only a few times. Anyhow, this led to me walking briefly at least 10 times. Probably closer to 15. And if I'm really being honest, a few of those walking sessions had nothing to do with my leg. I was spent. I was SO tired. Only a few though. :) I knew I could still make it in under 4 hours. I watched my clock. Every time I walked though, I would see it slipping. Once I reached 22 miles, I knew I had just over 4 left, and 36 minutes. That's 9 minute miles. 4 of them. I could do that with my eyes closed. I still felt confident, but my leg just wasn't having it. Then something changed in me. I just didn't care. The 4 hour thing no longer mattered. I was doing this. Running a marathon. I decided to be happy and let it go. Looking back, letting it go allowed me to walk a few more times than I needed to, and that's ok. Next time will be different. Yesterday it became all about finishing. I wasn't settling for a new goal, I had just had the wrong goal at the start. Finishing was HUGE. Finishing with a smile.

Each mile that beeped on my Garmin after 20 was a milestone. I had never run that far. I was SO happy. I smiled a lot. I prayed a lot too. Out loud. Asking Him to continue helping me. To carry me down University Avenue to the finish. He didn't carry me, but He sure did make my legs capable of all I was asking of them. There were people everywhere. The energy was amazing. Spectators. Volunteers. Other runners. SO much support. People turning their head as they ran past me, shouting encouragement to me.

There was a moment just before the last mile where I stopped in a porta potty. I came out, tired and worn down. A woman was there talking on her phone. She saw me, put her phone down to her side, and said, "You've GOT THIS. You can do it." She high-fived me and I was on my teary way. Seriously, I cried all day long. Not crying from pain. It was happy crying. Joy. I got to 400 N (4 blocks from the finish) and went for it. I wasn't fast, but I wasn't shuffling either. I felt strong. As I went into the finishing chute, I was completely overcome with emotion. I was nearly finished. I had done it! I had run a marathon. The cheers were so loud. People were high-fiving me along the way. I DID IT! I bent over and cried. Holy crap, I did it. I heard Tara calling me, turned around to hug her and sobbed. I sobbed. She worried that I was sad or disappointed, but it was just the opposite. I was so, so happy.

Then I saw Dave and the kids. Sharene. Kami. I nearly burst. My joy was full. I had worked hard and accomplished something wonderful. These amazing people had supported me the whole time. They knew I could do it. I have more to say on that, but I think I will wait for tomorrow. This post is LONG. I will end with my splits (including walking through aid stations/fueling/bathroom breaks - no stopping the watch). I hesitate to post these because the end was so rough. I like to be a finisher. I like to end strong, faster than I started. It did NOT happen yesterday. My body wasn't quite ready for all those miles. It will be next time though.

1- 8:44

2- 8:14

3- 8:04

4- 8:20

5- 8:08

6- 9:08 (fuel stop)

7- 8:16

8- 8:57 (start of the hills)

9- 8:47

10- 8:31

11- 8:26 (fuel stop)

12- 9:47

13- 10:36 (insane hills & wind/bathroom)

14- 8:13

15- 8:33

16- 10:06 (fuel stop)

17- 9:17

18- 9:03

19- 8:22

20- 12:07 (cramping started to become more frequent/fuel stop)

21- 10:08

22- 11:17

23- 9:51

24- 11:58

25- 12:36

26- 13:55 (bathroom stop)

.2- 3:07 (9:14 pace)

26.33 miles 4:12:41

average pace 9:36 (and I'm ok with it) :)

brave...

I am sorry to report that the twins found a mouse in our shed this morning. I haven't seen a mouse around these parts for a few years. I am not happy about it. Not a bit. This is how things went down:

- I hear the phone ring. The kids tell me it was Dave, calling Emily back. I ask why, but they don't want to give details. That was probably a smart move, because they were reporting the mouse to him. It was found in a large, clear, empty storage box in the shed. I don't know how it got in there, and I'd like to think it was all alone. Dave told them to shut the lid and he would take care of it when he got home. I told them to shut the lid tight so there was no way it could escape, then I realized we would suffocate it, so I told them to take it out in the yard and crack it a tiny bit.

- Molly came in to see me...very stressed. She didn't like the sound of "Daddy will take care of it". It worried her. She didn't want him to kill it. Her lips turned down and her eyes got red and watery. Oh my word, it was cute. Cute and SO sweet. I love tender Molly.

- I decided we would take care of things ourselves. Actually, I decided I would drive, while Lizzy took care of it. Lizzy is my brave one. She didn't used to be. She would cry when snow fell on her jacket in the winter. She would scream when she saw box elder beetles through the back window. She is brave now. I told her I wanted her to put the box with the mouse in the back of the car. There were some rules though. I wanted to get in first. I did not want to see the mouse through the clear box. I then had to turn on the car and the radio so I couldn't hear it scratching. She was instructed to sit in the back seat, leaning over it, with the box in the far back, and hold the lid tighly shut with both hands. So help me...if that thing got loose in my car!

- We drove out to the trailhead. I had Lizzy climb over the back seat, both hands still on the box, and take the box out into the bushes. Not far enough. Go a little bit farther! She squatted down, tipped the box, and let it go. I probably asked her 5 times where it was. Is it coming back towards us? Has it run away yet? She smiled the whole time, then kept her hands in the air the whole way home, just in case mouse germs had gotten on them.

We disposed of a mouse. By ourselves. Without Dave. Who am I kidding?? Lizzy disposed of a mouse. By herself. Without Dave. Isn't she amazing? I did take pictures of most of it though.

it's almost here...

"Crossing a marathon finish line for the first time is a life-changing moment. In doing it, you prove something to yourself that can never be taken away. You walk away with hard, experiential evidence that you are strong, resilient and gutsy. It's one thing to suppose you have what it takes to run a marathon; it's quite another to know it because you've done it."

"On the morning of your first marathon, the voice of doubt multiplies, becoming a full chorus. By mile twenty this chorus is screaming so loudly, it's all you can hear. Your sore and weary muscles beg you to stop. You must stop. But you don't stop. This time, you ignore the voice of doubt, you tune out the naysayers who tell you you're not good enough, and you listen only to the passion in your heart. This burning desire tells you to keep moving forward, to continue putting one foot boldly in front of the other, and somewhere you find the will to do so."

"You are a marathoner, and you will wear this distinction not on your lapel, but in your heart, for the rest of your life." - Dean Karnazes

*found on this cute girl's blog...http://www.painprideperseverance.com/

I like these quotes. Actually, I love them. My marathon is now 3 days away. I cannot really believe it. I have been waiting for this day for nearly a year and 1/2. Missed my last opportunity due to injury, and nearly missed this one. I was devasated to hear a few months ago that I had a stress fracture. I even ran the 10 miler in this picture in St. George on the fracture. I think I may have trained on it for a few months, thinking it was just a strained muscle. Looking back, I wish I would have stopped running back then, so I could have healed faster and been a little more prepared now, but I didn't. Anyhow, I wasn't told I couldn't run the marathon, so I kept training for it. Cross-training. I didn't love it, but I knew I had to do it if I had any hopes of accomplishing this goal, so I did it. When Tara was out doing 20 miles, I was at the gym, training for 200 minutes (10 minutes for every mile). There were some LONG days. I mixed it up on the machines though, had friends come by to keep me company, and pushed myself really hard.

After consulting with my sport's medicine doctor, I started slowly doing short (1 mile) runs on the treadmill about 5 weeks ago. They felt good, and after about a week of getting used to things again, I realized I could still go fast. Not fast fast, but fast enough. :) And...it didn't hurt! Running had hurt for 4 months. I wear a brace on my left calf. All the time. And it does wonders. I love it. I am so thankful my body has healed. Anyhow, after running the Red Rock Relay 5 weeks ago, I have done a 13 mile run and a 20 mile run with Tara. The 20 was hard. It really was. But I never felt like I needed to quit. I KNEW I could finish, and that was a good feeling. Since that run 2 weeks ago, I have felt very confident. I am anxious, but not "Amy" anxious. I know that is a direct result of prayer.

Tara and I drove the route this morning. It is long. Long, but beautiful. I want to be able to keep up with Tara the whole way. It may not happen. This is her 5th marathon, and she has trained longer and harder. It doesn't hurt to visualize it happening though. I have a secret goal of still being able to beat 4 hours. I know this is lofty too, but I would be lying if I didn't admit that is what I am hoping for. That is a 9:09 pace. Our 20 was an 8:45 pace. I can do it. I just need the stars to align, strong legs, and an overcast sky. :)

scissors...

Well crud. The girls left some scissors out in the garage, Margie took them into the downstairs bathroom, and this is what she did. This is right on the heels of spilling red nailpolish all over the bathroom floor a few days ago. We DO watch her. We really do. She is sneaky. She knew I was so sad. She kept saying, "I sorry Mommy. I sorry I cut my hair." The more frustrated I get with her, the more her lip quivers and her eyes fill with tears, so I have to be careful, but SERIOUSLY? :( She cut it on both sides...to her ears. Let's just focus on the positive. I'm glad she didn't hurt herself and I'm glad she only went for a small trim.