You SHOULD read the label

I'm a big believer that knowledge is power.  I understand that ignorance is bliss.  Let's be real.  How many of us have looked in the mirror and been unhappy with the image staring back at us? I've been there.  When you've been unhappy, how many times have you thought, "I eat healthy but nothing works!"? I've been there too.  Here's the thing: are you really eating healthy? If you think you are, are you reading food labels?  Most people aren't.  Do you know what a serving size is? If not, do you know where to find it? What if it doesn't have a food label?  I know, I know.  Ignorance is bliss.  But, knowledge is power.  If you don't know that two double stuffed Oreos are a serving size and that it is 140 calories, then you can eat a whole row and not feel guilty, right?  Sadly, no.  Somewhere, you will feel guilty because you do know better.  But, now you know that a serving size is two cookies.  Now you can decide if eating four is worth it.  Maybe it is.  Maybe you thought twice and decided you'd stick with two.  Now you're empowered.  You made an informed decision.

This is what I'm talking about.  You're trying to decide if you should eat a banana with your lunch or strawberries.  How do you decide?  You only want to eat about 50 calories.  Strawberries.  About a cup of sliced strawberries is a serving and it's about 40-50 calories.  How did I know that?  I remember things like that but I also know where to find that information.  We live in the age of information.  A simple Google search will turn up a serving size and it's nutritional content.  Maybe you are trying to increase your vitamin C consumption.  Google it.  What fruits and vegetables are high in vitamin C?  Oranges, apples, sweet potatoes, carrots, etc.  It is super tedious in the beginning and it can seem overwhelming but it is so worth it. And, with time, it gets easier.  You get so you know the things you eat regularly.

Now that you know how to find the information, it's time to implement it.  So a serving of Cheerios is one cup.  Do you just pour it into your cereal bowl and just eyeball it?  You can after some time but initially, I'd pull out your trusting measuring cup.  Don't guess.  It's too easy to over estimate and then you've eaten more than you thought you did.  Again, over time, you get better at it and you may not need to measure every time. I still measure my cereal though.  And I've taught my kids to too.

Reading nutrition labels can be tedious.  When you're in a hurry to get the kids out the door to school or whatever your crazy life looks like, it can be frustrating to stop and read the label and then pull a measuring cup out but the reward may be that as you look in the mirror, you may start to like what you see.  Now when you say that you eat healthy, you know that you really are.

As a side note, please don't let yourself get caught up in the trap that a number on a scale can be.  You are so much more than just a number.  You are a mind and a heart and a soul and a mother and a sister and a friend and you have so much to give.

Thanks for checking in with me.  I hope you're moving forward with your goals and dreams.  Let me know is you have questions or comments and check back again soon!

Is there a ghost in your closet?

About a year ago I read an article put out in Spinning's instructor magazine.  It was about a Spinning instructor that had created a ride he called the "Ghost Ride".  I loved the article so much I have taught my own Ghost Ride several times now.  What is a Ghost Ride?  A Ghost Ride is when you ride hard.  You push yourself right to your limit.  There is a good reason to riding to your limit.  It is to find your Ghost.  We all have them. It's the "thing" that holds you back.  It's different for everyone but it takes pushing yourself right to the edge to find it.  It's that thing that makes you stop, that holds you back from creating a new limit, a new boundary. Why would you want to do this? Great question.  I believe knowledge is power.  If you know what your Ghost is, you can overcome it.  You may not be able to overcome it right away.  It may take time, but it is possible.  Don't worry.  When you overcome that Ghost, another usually takes its place.

The beautiful thing about overcoming a Ghost is that you create a new limit.  You become stronger.  We never get stronger when we're comfortable.  Strength happens when we are uncomfortable.  When we feel like we cannot go any further and yet we go just a little more.  It might break us just a bit, but when we re-build, we are stronger.

Now, this is great for Spinning, right? But what if you don't like Spinning?  Here is where it gets great, this Ghost Ride idea has application to EVERYTHING!!  It works in Spinning.  I've had plenty of people tell me they've found their Ghosts and stared them down.  A Ghost "Ride" also works on a run.  Push yourself hard. Run a little faster.  Run a little farther.  Run a stronger hill.  Find your Ghost.  Know what it is that holds you back. If you can't overcome it on that run, think about it afterwards.  Make a plan and attack the next time you're out.  A Ghost "Ride" works on strength training.  You've hit a plateau.  You haven't been able to overcome a certain weight.  Next time, go just one more rep.  Or maybe two.  Or maybe just hold it a second or two longer. You'll overcome and become stronger.

Here's an unintentional consequence: you get to know you better.  Here again, knowledge is power. Knowing yourself better means you can become stronger.  It means you can change.  It means you can become the person you want to be.  You no longer have to be someone you don't want to be.  This Ghost Ride concept has application to most things in your life.  If you're scared of doing something but you've always wanted to do it, try.  Trying is the first step to doing.  Doing is on the road to becoming.

Okay you guys, thanks for checking back with me.  Fill me in on what's going on in your lives, your goals, your dreams, and your near misses.  Let me know if you have questions or comments.  Good luck in whatever you are working on right now.  Check back with me again soon.  Thanks again!    

Balance...is is possible?

Okay, so I've been teaching fitness classes now for about two and a half years. In that time I've discovered that this particular profession draws a certain personality. I'll illustrate with a story. My older son was in about third grade and his class was going on a field trip. I remember reading the permission slip and at the end it asked for parent volunteers. My knee-jerk response was to say no.  Now the reason why I wanted to say no is my point. It interfered with my gym time.  The kids were to leave for their field trip right after they got to school. I always dropped my kids off at school and went right to the gym afterward. It simply wouldn't work for me to go. And then I caught myself. Was a seriously going to pass up a chance to spend time with my son and make memories with him so I could go to the gym?!  That moment, that decision was pivotal for me. I decided I could get up earlier than normal (crazy, right?) and go to the gym. Then I could do both.  Countless times I have looked back on that moment and I am SO grateful I made the choice I did. I chose my son and time with him. I still got my "me time" but I sacrificed something else. It was a good day.  

Now, this brings me to my point. I'm this type of personality. It's easy, automatic even, to go overboard. To do too much and then think, "Look at me! I did it! I'm strong!" Maybe. Too many times I've looked at my co-workers and seen the "too much" and worried that they've missed the necessity of rest and recovery. Sometimes less really is more. I don't want to make it seem like I have this down. I haven't always done the right thing and sometimes I too get caught up in the "too much". I've had weeks where I've taught 12-14 classes during the week and still gone out for a long run on the weekend. But I'm not balanced when I do this and I can tell. 

So now you may be asking, "Can I do it all?" I answer with a qualified yes. You may have to adjust things. You may have to back things off. Compromise. Let's go back to my example. I got my gym time, something that had become very important to me. It was my me-time, the time I gave to me so I had more to give at home. I also got my time with my son, something that I recognized (thank heavens!) was important. I had to compromise. That time the thing I sacrificed was sleep. I got up a little earlier than normal. Please note, I'm not advocating sacrificing sleep all the time. Rest is NECESSARY as a part of a training program, and life in general. You may have to adjust the amount of time you can do something. You may have to give something up for a short time to make other things work. The important thing here is to look at everything, the big picture. Prioritize. Things will fall into place. You will begin to see where you can make adjustments. 

On a side note, let me offer a suggestion. Take yoga. It has opened my mind to things. My body is able now to communicate with me and I can listen. I know what it needs and yoga has offered a peace and calm I didn't know I craved and needed. Yoga could fix many of the problems that exist in our world today. It can help you too. 

I hope this offers some insight into how you can achieve balance in your life. It's so easy to get pulled in so many different directions and to overextend yourself. Hang in there. Breathe deep. Thanks for checking in with me. I hope you are moving toward your goals. Let me know if you have any questions. Check back again soon!  

Being a mom has sure learned me good!

Being a mother has taught me SO much!  When my kids were little, I learned to close the bathroom door. You never know what you'll find your little one into if you leave the bathroom door open.  I've learned that it's scary when kids are playing and it's too quiet.  I've learned that teaching my children is my responsibility. I've learned also that it's my job to mold and shape and let go.  As my children, have gotten older, I've learned some new things. I've learned how precious time is.  My oldest is now 16.  She's driving and dating and has a job.  There are times when she is so busy, I feel like it's days between seeing her.

I've learned to treasure the little things. It's Halloween time and we have a few traditions.  Every year since my kids were little, we've decorated sugar cookies with their cousins.  As my children and nieces and nephew have gotten older, it's become quite a challenge to find the time when every one is available. Toward the end of September this year, my kids started asking when we were going to decorate cookies.  It's amazing how something so simple can make me so happy.  Our efforts when they were little are paying off.

Last week was Back to the Future day.  The week before, our kids had fall break.  We started planning about six weeks before to have a Back to the Future marathon and watch all three movies in sequence.  We decided to do it early, during fall break.  I told my kids not to plan anything and they were honestly excited. The day of the marathon, my kids quickly got their chores done and helped get things ready.  Even my 16 year old told her friends they couldn't get together until we'd watched all the movies.  It may have been a waste of nearly six hours, but I treasured it because my whole family was together.  I know that the times we have left like this are numbered and will just get harder to do.

I can remember when my kids were little, people would come up to my in church when I was struggling with my kids and tell me to enjoy it.  That soon, I would turn around and my little ones would be teenagers.  I remember thinking they were CRAZY!  I had felt every single second of that day and the one before and the one before that.  I remember thinking that I was merely surviving.  And I was.  That wasn't living. The first five years were hard, the hardest and the longest. But with every day that passed, my kids got older.  Before I knew it, my oldest was ten and my baby was going to kindergarten.  The next five years passed more quickly.  Somehow it seemed, time had sped up.  As fast as the second five years went, the next five were even faster.  How is that even possible?  That was the year I had one kid in four different schools.  I don't recommend that, by the way.  It was crazy.  And now.  Earlier today, my husband was on Facebook and he told me what he'd posted a year ago today.  And I couldn't believe it.  It felt like that was only a few months ago yet it really was a year ago.

Now life is so crazy.  I feel like all I do is rush from one thing to the other, hoping along that the way that I don't forget anything.  Many times we have to divide and conquer.  It's in the midst of all of this craziness that I find I enjoy the little things.  And time.  Always time.  I appreciate that we made dinner together a priority when our kids were little.  It's paying rich dividends now.  My kids know that every night about 5:00 I expect them to be home so we can have dinner together.  Far too often, dinner is rushed because someone has somewhere they have to go but it still happens.  On good nights, they linger.  One Sunday afternoon, I had a brilliant thought.  At dinner I asked all the kids their favorite memory.  It was slow to start but before I knew it, the memories were flowing.  Things I never knew about were revealed.  Dinner that day lasted an hour and a half!  And the next Sunday brought them back for more.

I don't always do things right.  If I could do things over differently, I would change a lot of things.  But every once in a while, I get things right and the pay out is amazing.  This journey of life and motherhood has been an adventure.  There have been some really high highs and some devastating lows.  I have learned so much! Cherish the little things.  Enjoy the moment.  When you find that your older son has duct taped your younger son to the tree in the front yard, take a picture and have a laugh before you reprimand him.  (Yes, that actually happened.)  And love.  Love with your whole heart.  Yes, it will get broken.  A lot.  But sometimes it will swell so much you think it will burst and those times make everything worth it.

Thanks for stopping in again.  I hope everything is going well with you and your family and your goals.  Let me know what your goals are.  Share your successes.  And come back again soon.  Thanks again!

I tried something new and you should too

I think I've eaten every energy option out there.  I started with gels.  I had to literally give myself a pep talk to take it and then I'd gag it down. Literally.  My brother told me he liked to use PayDay bars to supplement his gels while out running so I tried it too.  It helped for a while but then I didn't eat any for a while and one of my kids shared a PayDay bar with me from their Halloween stash and I nearly lost it.  Again, literally. PayDay bars are now out.  I moved over to chews which went down quite well and there was a decent variety so I didn't get too bored.  Until it was time to train for the 50K.  There are still flavors I can no longer stomach.  Jelly Beans have been thrown in there intermittently with success.  Somewhere along the line I read the book Born to Run.  (By the way, it was a great read and I highly recommend it.)  Anyway, the book talks about pinole.  I had to look it up but then I had to try it.  For months, the night before a long run and even for a marathon, I'd make pinole and my husband and I would eat that.  It was really good and worked well.  Around this time I also discovered waffles.  It's something that European athletes have used for a while but Lance Armstrong is credited for bringing it to the United States.  He used it while racing in Europe but couldn't find it here. Anyway, I LOVE waffles.  Their calorie count is slightly higher than gels and chews but they are YUMMY! Within the last year or two, I've started adding Cheetos to really long runs.  Again, I have my brother to thank for this.  We'd go for a long run and he would bring along some nutrition but never enough.  He'd just bring cash and plan to stop at a convenient store.  His favorite snack was Cheetos and a Red Bull.  He'd always get the 2 1/2 serving package and then share with us.  It is amazing how great Cheetos taste on a long run.  Also, their high fat content means they stick with you a little longer and since my husband struggles with getting enough nutrition while running, this was a great (and tasty!) solution.  This year while at the expo for the St. George Marathon, we visited the Clif booth.  They had a new product they were sampling: pureed fruits and veggies.  Scott Jurek, the endurance runner, helped to develop this product as he used to make his own nutrition for his runs.  It's packaged in a little pouch with a screw on cap.  They have four flavors and they are really good.  My husband and I used them for our 12 miler last weekend and they worked great.  I really wish I'd had these years ago when I thought I'd die if I had to eat one more energy chew or gag down one more gel.  Clif has two savory flavors and two sweet flavors.  They are natural and having one more option makes me soooo happy!

I'm always looking for something new when it comes to nutrition.  I get tired of the same thing, especially when I'm training for something and consuming lots of sports nutrition.  If you come across something new, let me know.

I hope all is well with your goals and your health.  Thanks for checking in with me and come back again soon.  Let me know if you have any questions or comments.  Thanks again!

St. George Marathon 2015

Okay. So this year the marathon was awesome. My husband and I decided that this year we really wanted a great finish. I'd spent the last year re-building my base: running lots of miles, hill repeats, intervals. I wanted to be the strongest I've been. I knew that for a strong finish, we'd need strong training. We started adding intervals into our long runs. I've never done it before. I was amazed that even after LOTS of miles, my body responded to speed work. On our 21-mile training run I was beat. My body hurt and I hadn't taken any pain medication. We always ran our last mile home hard. When we hit 20 miles I knew it was time to go and I didn't want to but I started to push the pace. I left my husband and ended up having to wait for him. The human body is incredible!

On marathon morning, I knew we'd done everything we should have. I had been hesitant to say our goal finish out loud. I knew I had to be accountable to other people if I didn't get my goal finish. Reluctantly, I told the people who asked: 3 hours and 45 minutes. I knew we could do it. Anyway, we started farther back in the starting shoot than we should have and we spent about three miles weaving through runners trying to settle into our pace. We needed to maintain a 8:30 pace to come in on target. By about mile five, we were pacing about 90 seconds ahead of our goal. Veyo hill is at mile seven. We'd never talked strategy for that hill. We decided to go as long as we could until we knew we needed a break and then power walk until we recovered. I recovered a little quicker than my husband but we finished the hill still about 60 seconds ahead. The next four-ish miles are rolling hills but we powered up them and stayed stong. I'll admit that by the time we got to mile 12, I was ready for some flat sections and a few downhills. Fifteen miles in I was still feeling good and we were still just ahead of our goal. Seventeen my husband was starting to feel the mileage and we slowed just a bit. Around 18 1/2 miles in, there's a small hill. I powered up but my husband was starting to struggle. When he got up to me, he told me to just go and get my finish. We discussed our options and he told me to run my race. He'd stay as strong as he could but he knew I had a little more gas than he did. We stayed together until about mile 21. At that point we were about one minute behind our gosl finish  We came around a curve and my legs said go. My sweet, beautiful husband could feel me pulling away and yelled, "Go get it babe!"  I took off. I watched my Garmin closely. I was running mostly sub-8 minute miles in the last five miles of the marathon! I could feel my body breaking down. Literally. My quads started talking, first hinting that maybe I should slow down, then getting louder and louder. As they questioned my sanity, I kept getting closer to the finish. As I got closer, I realized I was making up time. 22. 23. 24, Diagonal street. Lots of people sending me their energy. My quads weren't talking anymore. They were starting to scream. I tuned them out. I had a mile and a half to go. 25. I can do this!  I only have to hold on. Tabernacle. Main street. Now I'm looking for my family. I know they are somewhere on this street. 300 South is just ahead and a boy shouts, "Mom!"  It's my 11-year old and he's finally seen me. I wave as I round the final corner. There it is: the finish line!  I'm there, almost. Now, it's only three and a half blocks from the last turn to the finish line. Easy, right? WRONG!!! I kick it up for the home stretch. My breathing is labored from the exertion. Seriously, those three and a half blocks are SO long!  Finally, finally!  The finish line. I looked down at my Garmin: 3 hours 42 seconds. Now, really truly, I was thrilled. But, my Boston qualifying time is 3:40. I was 2 minutes and 12 seconds over qualifying! I'd be lying if I said I haven't played the "if only" game. But it doesn't get me anywhere. It also doesn't take away my finish, that was three minutes faster than my goal. My amazing husband finished only four minutes behind me.  He did something he hasn't done before.  He ignored the discomfort and dug deep and held onto his pace to finish strong. I am so proud of him!

So this year I achieved my goal and we worked so hard to get there. I'm really pleased with our finishes. Hard work really does pay off. 

Thanks for checking in with me again. I hope you are setting goals and doing what you can to achieve them. Good luck with your goals and dreams and check back again soon.  

I'm a mom

Okay friends.  I know what you're thinking.  It has been a REALLY long time.  I know.  And a lot has happened.  And I have been SO busy.  Lousy excuses.  True.  Anyway, I have been thinking a lot lately about this blog.  Originally my plan was to have this be a resource for people who wanted or needed motivation or just information from someone trying to live a healthy lifestyle.  I have struggled to keep up with it because I'm so busy but also because I sometimes can't decide what to talk about.  If we were having a face-to-face conversation, I promise we'd have no "dead air".  The name of my blog is "The Mommy Athlete".  It's not just the athlete.  I'm a real mom with real mom struggles.  I use my activity to stay sane.  So I'm going to talk about that a little now too.

It has been a rough year.  I have four children, two sons and two daughters.  Both of my sons and my husband have special needs.  They all have ADHD.  Our youngest son was diagnosed two and a half years ago, our older son was diagnosed nearly two years ago.  My husband was diagnosed in between my sons.  As on adult.  That diagnosis helped to explain so many things for him and his struggles through childhood and into adulthood.

It's these diagnoses that have made the last year so rough.  Before school started last year, my husband and I went to meet our youngest son's fifth grade teacher.  We had just had a really rough summer, feeling like the medication our son was on was simply not working and his symptoms seemed to be getting worse.  We were working with our doctor but wanted our son's teacher to know our son's struggles and asked for his patience as we worked through finding something that worked.  I should have trusted my instincts from that first meeting.  I knew it was not a good fit but I deferred to my son's fourth grade teacher and the principal, both of whom I really respect and I know had my son's best interest at heart.  They both agreed that this teacher was our best bet.  I decided to take the wait and see approach.

After trying new medicine, our doctor said he no longer felt comfortable treating our son and recommended he see a child psychiatrist.  We went on a waiting list, knowing it would be about five months.  Our son continued to struggle with focus and compulsion and a myriad of other things.  I started getting regular phone calls from our son's teacher.  The problem was always my son.  The teacher was never the solution.  In fact, in many ways I feel like he made many things worse.  Twice last year I got a phone call from the school's counselor telling my she was afraid that my son might try to hurt himself.  I stopped working with our son's teacher and started working with the principal.  He started working toward getting an IEP (Individual Education Plan--special accommodations for our son run through the Special Education department).  He said we'd need it for the next year when our son went to the intermediate school.  I remember walking into the principal's office one day.  I told him I was there to talk with him because I couldn't talk with my son's teacher without losing my patience.  He was so patient.  He knew we were trying and that my son was trying.  Several times he offered to transfer our son into another teacher's class.  Each time I told him no because our son liked his teacher.  Our son wanted to stay in the class and I wanted to empower him to make that decision.

Finally, after almost seven months of waiting, and when I was to my breaking point, we got a phone call from the child psychiatrist's office.  They had an opening, thank heavens! I will never forget our first meeting.  The doctor emitted an overwhelming feeling that everything was going to be okay.  We tried new medicine.  He gave me some ideas on dealing with my son.  He also told me that I needed to be strong.  After going through lots of testing, we found our son is extremely intelligent.  He told us our son is likely bored in class and that contributes to behavioral issues.  I would have to be his advocate.  I would have to be willing to fight and get angry if necessary.  I needed to be willing to say "Nope.  Try again."  After a particularly rough day at school, we took our son to a scheduled appointment with the doctor.  After telling the doctor about the day, I asked if he felt it was too late in the year (only about six weeks left in the year) to change teachers or if it would have a negative effect on our son.  He told me it was having a far more negative effect keeping him in that class.  Once again, we asked our son what he wanted.  This time he wanted to change.  The principal moved him the next day.

The change that happened in those six weeks still amazes me.  The new teacher was incredible.  Our son loved her and she loved him back.  She didn't let him get away with things and she expected a lot from him, but because she was sincere, he responded.  I can never repay her for that.

I've had people tell me ADHD isn't real.  People have told me that ADHD medication is bad and that it's not good to put children on it.  ADHD is REAL!!! I live with it.  And medication helps.

I would not have survived this last year without running and Spinning and TRX and yoga and strength training.  It has been my sanity.  When I felt like I couldn't take one more thing, I knew I'd get to run in the morning or do yoga or whatever.  Being active has saved me and my family.  When everyone else hit their breaking point with our son, I held on.  I've held on to the inner peace from yoga, the mental strength from endurance running, and "I am strong" from everything else.  I've held on and you can too.

Thanks for checking back in with me.  I know this post is different than any of my other posts but it's real.  It's who I am and what I'm dealing with.  It's part of what connects people because we all have our struggles.  Come back again soon and good luck in your endeavors.      

No One Ever Asked: The Unknown Story

Okay everyone. So I know I've posted about the Boston Marathon a few times but as the second anniversary of the bombings approaches, I have something to say. As time has passed, something has persisted in bothering me. I'm sure it's mostly an oversight. Perhaps it's something no one has even thought about. Anyway, I decided it was time that the perspective of a runner who didn't finish the marathon but was affected by the bombings was finally heard. For those of you who have read my story before, I'm sorry. This time I go more in depth into my story. I discuss my emotions and feelings and the demons I've faced. For those of you who haven't read my story, thanks for stopping by to read it. Feel free to share my blog post or forward it along. Also, feel free to leave any questions or comments. Enjoy!

No One Ever Asked
by Brittney P. Farmer

March 25, 2013. I had no idea at the time that my life would forever be changed on this date. It’s the beginning and I guess I’ll start there. All of my children were in school and my husband, Jeramiah, was still at work. I was shopping at our local Target store when my phone rang. My husband was on the other end. He asked if I was aware of a contest that he had entered. I vaguely remembered seeing something on Facebook about how he had entered a contest to win an entry to the Boston Marathon. I think I may even have given entering it a passing thought. Anyway, my husband was calling to tell me that he had won the entry to the Boston Marathon, the one that was three weeks from that day. I should probably pause here to say that I wanted to run the Boston Marathon. Most runners do. I was even considering finally taking the time to train so that I could qualify to go. Now, here Jeramiah was, telling me he had an entry to go. I was envious. He was going to get to run Boston and I would have to sit and watch, or worse yet, stay home with the kids. Secretly, I hoped he would give me his entry. After all, I had been running for years longer than he had and I was closer to qualifying for Boston than he was. After talking with him, I realized he wasn’t going to give me that entry. We kind of threw around some ideas for how in the world we could throw a trip to Boston together so quickly but never settled on anything before our conversation was over. For those of you that are already siding with me that my husband should give me his entry, here’s what I didn’t know. He tweeted the group that gave him his entry and explained how much I wanted to run the race too. They told him that had an extra entry that they would sell me and tada! I had an entry too.

We immediately went to work finding accommodations and flights to Boston. We were too close to the actual race to find anything in town that we could afford so we ended up in Lexington. It was a little frustrating to be so far outside of the city but Lexington is rich with history and I love history. We caught a red-eye flight to Boston and arrived early Friday morning. We went straight to the expo at the Prudential Center. WOW! There were so many people and so much to see. We were excited about everything, from finding out that Dean Karnazes and Team Hoyt were going to be there to the athlete passports and everything in between. Jeramiah did his research prior to arriving in Boston. The Boston Marathon jacket put out by Addidas is the sought after thing every year. Apparently, if you’ve run Boston before, you come in your previous jacket and leave in your new one. Jeramiah knew that was the souvenir he wanted and it was the first thing we purchased. I debated for several days before deciding that I too wanted the jacket.

We spent the days preceding the marathon being tourists. My sister and her family had lived in Boston for a time so she told us the things we needed to see and do. We really had a wonderful time and enjoyed how the city welcomed every athlete as one of their own and wished us well. We spent the day before the marathon in Lexington enjoying the Patriot Day festivities and drinking the rich history of the American Revolution that began in Lexington.

Monday morning, we got up around 6:00. We had decided to drive to the train and ride that into the city rather than try to find parking in Boston. Our starting time was scheduled for just before noon so we brought breakfast with us instead of eating before we left. It was so cold when we got off the train and waited for the bus! When we left home, it was in the 70s. That morning it was probably in the high 30s. I remember watching the weather forecast for the marathon and people saying that the weather was going to be great for the race. I thought they were crazy and wished it was 20 degrees warmer. The bus ride to Hopkinton lasted forever. They drive you around so that they can keep the course closed to traffic. We got off at the high school and there were so many people. We stood around waiting for our turn to head to the starting line. One last trip to the port-a-johns and we were finally ready. We waved at every camera, smiling and happy to be running one of the most prestigious races in the world. Initially, we were frustrated. We had been corralled with sponsors and charities so we were pacing faster than most of the people we were running with but soon settled into a steady pace and just enjoyed the crowds, the athletes and the shirts.

We had so many people at home supporting us, many of them digitally following us. We were having a great run and then we hit mile 15. Jeramiah is a great runner and he is really strong but, just like most runners, once he gets about 15 miles in, the miles start to wear on him. I’m different. My endurance legs kick in and I feel like I can go forever. At mile 15, I was ready to really start running and Jeramiah started to feel sick. That rarely happens. When he started to drag, for about 3 seconds I considered leaving him and running my own race. But we came to Boston together and we were going to finish together. I started to encourage and ask questions to gauge how bad things were. We stopped at a port-a-john and headed out again. We’d run the hills as best as he could and then we’d walk. Again, I’d encourage and ask more questions. At about mile 23, I remember being a little disappointed at the crowds in Boston. The Red Sox game was over and most of the spectators were fans from the game and most of them were a little drunk. We continued and I could tell Jeramiah wasn’t feeling well. I encouraged him to eat anything we could get our hands on, thinking that he was probably hungry and needed food. Mile 24. Mile 25. We were so close. 1.2 miles to go. Maybe two minutes after mile 25 we heard sirens. I called over my shoulder to Jeramiah that I wasn’t dead yet and they couldn’t have me. We ran maybe another 30 to 60 seconds when we hit a wall of people.

I remember thinking that there was no way the finish line could be backed up this far. This was Boston. Surely they would be better organized than to have that happen. We stopped and I pulled my phone out to call my brother. I was sure he’d know what was going on. I couldn’t get through. Jeramiah pulled his phone out and searched the internet. We were standing close and talking quietly but everyone was so close because there were so many people. Jeramiah told me there were bombs at the finish line. Surely I hadn’t heard him correctly. Bombs? Everyone around us heard that and people started crying. I tried my phone again. I still couldn’t make a call. More emergency vehicles passed us. Jeramiah pulled his phone out again and read that some reporter had tweeted that body parts were visible at the finish line. I was shocked. How could this happen? Why would this happen?

Somehow we were able to contact our family at home and let them know we were okay. Our children had gotten out of school early that day and my sister-in-law said she’d let them watch the marathon. For a few minutes I was afraid that they had been watching and didn’t know we were okay. Fortunately, we told them about the bombing so they learned we were okay at the same time they learned about the bombing. We wouldn’t have service and then we’d get a whole bunch of texts and voice mails. At one point I told Jeramiah to post on Facebook that we were okay so we wouldn’t hold up the line for people who were still looking for their loved ones.

We stood there for so long. The race had started cold but in the middle it had warmed up considerably. The breeze coming off the ocean was cool though as we got into Boston city and now that we were just standing around, people were starting to get cold. I remember thinking that if they didn’t move us soon, we would have emergencies there. The people who lived in the housing around the course were amazing. They came out with pitchers of water and paper cups and offered drinks to the athletes. Others came out and offered clothes. They offered what they had and I was touched by the humanity in such a dark time.

Finally, someone came and told us we had to walk somewhere. I don’t remember where. Someone asked about whether we’d be able to get out drop bags. We were told some would, others not. It depended on which bus they were on. We walked for probably a mile or so. Someone was handing out mylar blankets. I was so grateful. Someone else was handing out the finish line goodie bags. We were so hungry and those bags had food. Jeramiah and I were able to pick up our drop bags. We asked someone if the trains were still running and we were told yes so we headed back to Boston Common to get on a train. When we got there, a transit cop told us that station was closed and we’d have to go to Boston General to get on the train. We didn’t know Boston well and were so tired and it must have shown. I could tell he felt badly to tell us we couldn’t get on there. We walked for what seemed like forever and finally found an open station. I was fumbling in my bag for my train ticket and a gentleman behind me told me he’d get it for me. The trains were so full of people we had to stand but I was grateful to be headed out of the city. Somewhere between where we got on and where we were supposed to get off, in between stations, the train stopped. I just about lost it. We were only stopped for a few minutes but I had already had all I could take for one day. When we finally got to our car and were on the road to Lexington, I finally started to breathe.

We got back to our hotel and opted for dinner in the hotel bar. We ate about 8:00 that night. We turned the television on and it was everywhere, the same footage over and over again. After a while, with tears streaming down my face, I told Jeramiah to turn it off and we went to sleep. Our flight out of Boston was early and we could not have been happier about that. We got to the airport and were shocked by all the extra security. They were stopping and asking everyone about pictures and video that had been taken. They didn’t stop us. I don’t know why. Maybe it was because we had our Boston jackets on. We boarded the plane and both people sitting on either side of me were involved in the marathon. We chatted a little. After a while we settled into our own things. The lady next to me

was reading the Boston Globe. I stole a glance and read the headline. I remember wishing that we had taken the time to buy a newspaper. We landed a while later and caught our connecting flight. We slept. Our last connection was only a short 45 minute flight back into St. George and we had to run to catch it. Somehow the flight attendant knew who we were and welcomed us and said she was glad we were okay. My dad and sister-in-law picked us up at the airport. My dad told me my mom said I was grounded. It is probably the only time in my life I was happy to be grounded.

When our kids got home from school, we were greeted with grateful hugs. I missed them so much. As the day wore on and more and more time was put between us and the marathon, I started to feel heavy. Our son had a scout pack meeting the night we got home. Our neighbors greeted us and asked us about our trip and the marathon. It was starting to get hard to talk about. I just wanted to be home. The next morning I got up, like usual, and went to the gym. I was in a fitness class and had my Boston jacket on. A lady asked me if I was there and I told her yes. She wanted to talk about it. I didn’t. I didn’t want to be rude but I was beginning to realize that, although I had already said that I was so many times, I was not okay. Acknowledging that I wasn’t okay was a turning point for me and I really did start to get better from there.

Occasionally something would happen and a new wave of emotion would hit me. Things like the day Jeramiah was on Facebook looking at posts from the marathon. His aunt had been tracking us and posted our projected finish time from our halfway time. It was projected for when the bombs went off. Gratitude. That was the emotion that just overwhelmed me. Gratitude that Jeramiah wasn’t feeling well and we had to slow down and walk. Gratitude that we even had to stop a few times.

About two weeks after the marathon, Jeramiah and I were out on a weekend run. It was the morning of the St. George Ironman. We ran passed the bleachers that were set up at the finish line and I had a de ja vu moment. The scene was too familiar and reminded me of Boston and I panicked. Even though we never got to the finish line on race day, it still had an effect on me.

Runner’s World released its July issue and the whole thing was devoted to the Boston Marathon. I read every word of that issue and realized I was still recovering. It had been weeks since Boston and I really hadn’t thought too much about it yet here I was reading people’s stories. Stories like mine. Feelings like mine. It was too close for comfort.

I heard the song “Carry On” by Fun no more than two weeks before the marathon. It was new enough that I didn’t know the words yet, just the premise and the “Carry On” part. While we were running the marathon, every time we’d hit a hill, I’d sing that part in my head. Even though they are mostly just rolling hills, I sang that song a lot. “Carry On” became my mantra. I’m a fitness instructor and I teach Spinning and that became my go-to hill song. Running hills outside it was still my hill song. I learned it. I breathed it. I lived it.

Sometime during the summer of 2013, the Boston Athletic Association decided that if you were beyond

a certain point in the marathon by the time the bombs went off, you would have an automatic entry into the 2014 marathon. We signed up in August and started making plans.

Our local university does a film festival every fall. Someone put together a documentary of the Boston marathon and entered it. They talked with local runners about the marathon and people that were going back to run in 2014. They interviewed people along the Wasatch Front that had been there in 2013. To my knowledge, no one that was actually there in 2013 from St. George was actually interviewed about their experience in Boston. I had several people ask me if we were in it though. Interestingly, Jeramiah worked for a local radio station for a while years ago. When they found out he was in Boston, they asked to interview him. He was quoted on the front page of our local newspaper. We wouldn’t have been hard to find. But no one ever asked.

In mid-October I realized I had tendonitis in my foot. I decided to take a break from running. I didn’t heal. In December I had my foot x-rayed to rule out a stress fracture and by late December I opted for a cortisone shot so that I could run again. I didn’t work and even with continued time off my feet, I still didn’t heal. I started physical therapy and it worked a little. I was cleared to run a little, no more than six miles, but spend most of my time on the elliptical training for Boston. The marathon was starring me in the face and I was scared I wouldn’t be ready. Spending hours on an elliptical and then running six miles is less than optimal training.

As the race approached, it became obvious that my training wasn’t my biggest problem. I had literally spent months thinking I was okay. I knew it was going to be hard to go back to Boston but I had no idea how difficult it would be until it was nearly time to leave. I was broken. I was a wreck. I would be at home doing nothing and break into tears. Booking our flights left me with anxiety. I was not okay. Then a few days before we were scheduled to leave, police found an unattended bag on a street near the finish line in Boston and I nearly decided not to go. I knew that the only way to heal was to go back to Boston and finish but I wasn’t sure I could do it without breaking down and being hysterical. I sought some help and drew strength from my faith.

I did board the plane, willingly and without medication. We did go back and it was hard. I’m so very grateful for the memorial in the Boston library and the healing I felt there. I’m grateful for the time and love that went into the scarfs that people all over the world made to give to the athletes running Boston in 2014. I drew much strength from that love and support. I’m grateful for my family and friends, my children and my rock, Jeramiah.

A few days before the marathon, Jeramiah and I walked back along the course. We stopped where we got stopped. In my mind I knew we were almost at the finish line but to actually see how close we were was hard. I’m so glad I didn’t have that to deal with for a year. We stood there, one year later, arm in arm, and cried and then we finished for 2013. We lost something that day and we’ll never get it back. Thankfully, we got something new one year later.

Race day was amazing. There were police officers from so many town and cities, highway patrolman, national guardsman, and many, many others. We thanked as many of them as we could. The crowds were amazing too, so many more than the previous year. Once we got into Boston city, there were officers on both sides of the street every ten to fifteen feet. Once we got to where we’d been stopped the year before, we cried again. This time we got to run under Mass Ave. We got to turn onto Boylston Street. We got to cross the finish line, hand in hand, together. The finish line was amazing. I cried again when I got my medal. That medal didn’t just mark the finish of the race. It brought closure to a horrific chapter in my life and I was grateful to be turning that page.

Why am I telling my story? First, I want to make it clear that I don’t want to take anything away from the people who were killed and physically injured in Boston on April 15, 2013. I’ve read their stories and been inspired by their strength. I’ve cried and asked “Why?” I’m telling my story because it is one that hasn’t been told. There are thousands of people just like me who were there that day who walked away with scars, scars that you can’t see; scars that people don’t know about. There are people out there still dealing with the demons that were thrown at them that horrible day. Their stories need to be told. Their hearts and minds need to be healed. I didn’t used to talk about my experience because it was too hard. But I had a story to tell and every time I tell it, I get a little stronger.

I am grateful and proud to have been able to stand shoulder to shoulder with thousands of runners on April 21, 2014. We stood proud and strong because we’re runners and that’s what we do. The heart and mind of a runner is strong. It has to be. No one lines the streets as we run our training runs. No one heralds our blistered feet or chapped lips. Most people just shake their heads in bewilderment when they hear our stories. But we are strong. And we will carry on.