I found my way back home on its belt.

25 miles a week over ten years means 13,000 miles of treadmill runs logged.

While little girls slept she showed me I could soar.

Today she stopped working.

I would be lying if I didn’t tell you that I wondered if it was a sign.

As 43 lurks around the corner was someone whispering that this body was better suited for pilates and the occasional pavement run?

While standing in a pool of my silly tears I realized I was being reminded that I could find myself again in the run.

Tomorrow at 7am when the forecast calls for 34 degrees and partly cloudy skies, I will fly.

Here’s to 13,000 more on the open road.


Once a week Joe and I have a date.

We meet up at the back of the Fleet Feet store on Lane Avenue where he spends anywhere from 30-45 mins working me hard.

Joe is my physical therapist.

I’ve been battling pain in my hip and leg. It’s gone on for a very long time.

I traditionally had one of two approaches to handling the injury.

I self medicated with Aleve and continued to run


I would talk my primary care physician into giving me a cortisone injection (those usually occurred every 3 -6 months) and continue to run.

Both options masking the pain, never getting at the root of the problem.

The gig was up earlier this fall when the pain became so great my long runs were torture. My primary care doctor refusing to give me anymore cortisone, referred me to a sports medicine doctor who specialized in runners. After x-rays to rule out a few injuries the sports medicine doctor sent me to Joe for six weeks of PT. He said Joe was the best in the business when dealing with my type of injury.

On day one Joe laid out what I was up against, the work I had ahead of me.

After years of the same repetitive motion, one side of my body was weaker than the other.  My one hip dropping lower than it should.

Somewhere deep inside that hip, buried under other muscle, was one little muscle who had been doing a ton of work. That muscle was not strong enough to carry the load.

Over the last year other muscles around that little muscle had been trying hard to make up for its failings. The result was now the pain I felt in the larger muscles (my hamstring) and in my nerves, who had become irritated by the little muscle.

Pain as a result of ignoring the issue and not strengthening the muscle.

I didn’t realize how weak I was.

Isn’t that how life sometimes works? It takes another person to point out the areas of weakness we couldn’t see ourselves?

I have a half marathon in Rochester, NY on January 7.

Joe promises, if I do the work, it will be a pain free race.

Message heard clearly.

No longer masking the pain, weakness noted, I’ll be putting the time in to course correct.






For the run

I run because:

I am vain. I love the way it makes my legs look in a skirt.


I am cheap.  All I need are a pair of running shoes and an open road. When it’s that simple you find excuses to not work out are hard to come by.


I am a loner. My world is full of people. I love that about my life, but I am at my core a loner. Running is communion with myself.


I am Strong. I begin my day with a prayer.  Running is a daily reminder of how lucky I am to have this body as my own.


This weekend will see me running the North Face Endurance Challenge 10k in Park City, UT. The race begins at 6,900 feet elevation and my highest elevation will top out somewhere around 7,700 feet.

Typically I would characterize a 10k as “easy peasy”, but the elevation will make this run challenging.

The best part is that my Ellie girl will be there to cheer me on,

and that is really why I run.






The downhill

I’m a creature of habit, a lover of the routine.

Wake up, drink my tea, eat my Nugo bar, morning devotionals and then my miles on the treadmill.

On the weekends the girls are gone I log those miles on the long, winding, country roads around my house.

This past Sunday I woke up with my mind ready to run but my body telling a different story.

In reality much of the last 7 months have found my body and my mind speaking different languages. One running injury after another have plagued me. This month’s injury had me out for 7 days (well really only 5 but no one other than my doctor is counting).

My body was silently revolting against my routine.

Mind over matter eventually won out and my feet hit the pavement on Sunday.

But the rebellion had set in and felt a deep longing to change-up the routine.

So off I went heading north instead of south, deciding to run my usual 5 mile loop in the opposite direction.

Crazy I know.

1.5 miles in and I discovered there were hills on my regular route I didn’t know existed.

All those miles logged and I had not known that part of the course I was running was a gradual downhill? Now running the course backwards turned those previously easy strides into head down, leaning in, long and gradual uphill ascent.

Over the next miles I continued to feel astounded by what I had not known but was clearly always there.

Why didn’t I turn around more to acknowledge the hills (both up and down) I had been running?

How much of the last year had I been coasting and not realized it?

And there my friends is why I run.

Us runners, given enough miles to think it through, can turn any moment into a life lesson.





Running away with the year

In December 2013 I made a New Year’s Resolution.

It was pretty simple actually.

I would complete a race for every month of 2014.

Didn’t matter the distance or the location.

The challenge would be in committing myself to step away from the solitude I most appreciated in running and learn to love the run in whatever form it came to me.


Here I am 11 months later-

1 sprained toe,

1 first place finish (for my age group mind you),

2 rounds of cortisone injections,

3 half marathons,

4 pairs of running shoes,

11 races,

75.8 racing miles across 3 states.

I have improved my 4 miler time by a whopping 4 minutes and knocked off 3 minutes from my first half marathon in April to my last half marathon in October.


I have spent more time with my treadmill then my dog.

I have vomited, wiped my mouth and kept on running.

I have broken down in tears from the exhaustion, the emotion, the pain.

I share all of this because I am proud.

I have earned every last moment of this shameless brag.


I am stronger than I ever imagined.


If given the choice to run a 10 miler on my on or a crowded 5k, I would still choose the 10 miler. But, what I have learned, is how to quiet my head and calm my heart regardless of who is running beside me.


Just one more race to go, a holiday four miler.

In all honesty it feels a bit anti-climactic.

I know I will finish.

I know I will feel joy and accomplishment at the end.

The real victory is in the gift I have already been given.

That gift was unwrapped somewhere along mile 2 on a 8 degree race day in January of 2014.

The women who has never considered herself an athlete now understands what it feels like to be a warrior.


To Run


Monday morning found me in the desert logging 7.5 miles.

Surrounded by the most breathtaking views.

Sun rising as I ran; red glow, clear air.

I focused on my mechanics.

The planting of my feet,

the moving of my hips,

the rhythm of my breath.

At least 5 of my runs each week are spent on the treadmill.

It’s just the nature of my life.

When given the chance to log miles outside, I feel completely free and unencumbered in a way that’s almost impossible to articulate.

I recognize how lucky I am to have found this sweet spot in my life;

this place where I can quiet my head and hear my heart.

I am anxiously awaiting the clear, crisp fall air this Sunday morning as I stand at the starting line with 18,000 others for the chance to run 13.1 one more time this year.

And for these opportunities, the moments to run, I am incredibly grateful.