Hero

So this is my Captain. Soon to be Major, no DOUBT. 😘. And Hero.

He stands for everything we both believe in.

(Super) hard work. STRONG leadership. Sacrifice. #Merica.

My Flight Commander in Field Training (as Cadets...in college) called us Heroes. For nothing, basically. For doing a certain amount of push-ups? Who the hell cares. I guess it meant something at the time. To push yourself the hardest physically. But in the real world, "Hero" means so much more.

Sometimes it sort of kills me that I'm not still doing what he is doing.

But if I was, I wouldn't see him (at least) 6 out of every 18 months. Almost guaranteed.

He is my best friend and I love him so much. So it's hard to imagine that as the MINIMUM.

And that *may not* seem like a lot. If not, well, try it. Then get back to me.

When I was in Kandahar, we got rocketed all day every day. I really didn't think anything of it at the time but it wasn't the best place to be. Dave recognized that fact more than I did when I was there. I still think it was *nothing* compared to what the true heroes go through outside the wire. But it was real, and it would have been *the norm* for us if I would have stayed in the Air Force any longer. Oh, to be so naive again.

I've digressed.

I love this man with every little fiber of my being. And he is simply amazing at what he does. As a pilot and as a leader.

I get mad when he works himself too hard. But it's also what I love about him. He cares about doing what is right; he cares about the people. He cares about making the people do what is right, about making them stronger and better leaders.

I would love to complain about all of the sacrifices I'M making as a military spouse. But I also don't want to do that at all. AT ALL. Because I'm with him.

But burning people and families out...it's real. It's what is happening to our military of courageous and dedicated men and women. It's extremely sad. I've watched a man who came flying out of the womb to defend his country burn. out. In a few short years. I see how so very fast he has aged. And he keeps going.

This is not a political post...it's just meant to highlight the work ethic, leadership and contribution of just one man. Surely he isn't the only one; he is just an example.

I love you, Dave, and I am so very proud of you. More than blog words can ever express.

The Air Force will be so fortunate to soon have you as an instructor, leading other pilots to be the best of the best. See you soon, Fairchild AFB.

❤️

The Escape is Seattle-bound, Clark family to follow

Today we dropped the Escape off at the Vehicle Processing Center to be shipped to Seattle (but not before getting it detailed and cleaned for inspection at Top Gunn! Seriously, see below. Super nice guy, though, & great service). It passed inspection without any issues and our inspector thoroughly enjoyed blasting the super cold air conditioning while inspecting the rest of the vehicle...he could not get over how cold it got and it's been 90 degrees here the last couple days so all the Brits are roasting! We even got to hear about his last night's cold shower & chilling naked in the garden. Yup. I wanted to tell him that we're used to super cold a.c. in America but didn't want to rub it in :) For now, we're miserable with them and I'm glad he got to cool off for a few minutes.

Today, it felt like the PCS officially began. We shipped the first part of the family back to the States.

A car a family member, you ask? Well, sure. To some, maybe to most, it's just a car.

But to me cars always hold a lot of memories. It already has a road trip to Wales with friends and a beach retreat with the dogs under it's belt. It was the shiny new Christmas/birthday present we shopped for after the Audi died on me and provided me some of those comforts that we happily went without while here but, let's be honest, sometimes really miss. Comforts & peace of mind like....knowing the car will start.

It has so many adventures and road trips in it's future in Washington. I can't wait to throw the dogs in there and take them to lakes and mountains and parks. Maybe that's the thing about cars. They are full of memories and stories, like houses, but they can move from place to place and bridge the gap between all of the change. Maybe I get emotionally attached to cars because of all the places they takes us.

And if the car is headed back, then *surely* we are too. See you when we land, Escape. I know you'll be there to get us to our next stop on this wild ride: Spokane!

2016

Hey, blog! Long time, no writing. I neglected you and my love for writing last year. I'm sorry.

11 January. Slowly creeping away from the 1st, but the year is still fresh.

On New Year's Day, my FB feed was flooded with posts about throwing away the idea of resolutions, which imply "failure" in the year prior. That resolve means to find a solution to a "problem," and we, as individuals, are not "problems." I particularly like the line "The way you showed up for your life the past year was necessary for your growth." I'm not sure who that quote is from originally, but I'm totally on board with this line of thinking. We should appreciate our chance to start over and try again, according to Elizabeth Gilbert. We might succeed, we might fail. But at least we get to try again. And again and again. Amen.

Resolutions should just sort of be on-going. You can start over whenever you want, really.

This mentality is much more encouraging and healthy than feeling defeated during the first week of a New Year and feeling like you have to wait until January of the next year. No way. I enjoy the rollercoaster of the highs and lows all year long, baby.

For the past couple years, I've been struggling a lot with productivity, focus and working towards my goals. But I've also learned a great deal about myself and it's just time to move on and use those lessons. But not without re-hashing all the misery. 

One of the main reasons we wanted to live overseas was to travel. While I considered working while we lived here, I didn't try particularly hard to make that happen. Partly because I already felt lost when we got here, not sure of what I want to do with my life or what I want to be when I grow up. I had already gotten one Master's degree I wasn't really using and my interests were changing....making me really hesitant to go back to school and spend more money, too. Unless I was 100% sure of what I wanted to do (but are we ever, really?). As time went on, I realized it might be difficult to get our vacation times to line up if I got a job, making it difficult to travel. And wasn't that the point of being here? (sounds kind of like an excuse, doesn't it?) And partly, and probably the biggest reason, is I've felt a gradual decline in my confidence, even though my values and what I care about most have  become more clear. The more time that passes, the scarier it is to get back out there. Without really realizing it, I started numbing everything with beers and banana nut muffins (Brené Brown reference).

But you can't have your cake and eat it, too. You can't have the luxury of getting to travel and see the world and not worry about work and ALSO feel fulfilled when you are not engaging with your passions and interests. Well, I can't, apparently.

But I'm interested in beer and wine and banana nut muffins. So there was that. Numb on.

After 2 years, I've realized that when I get home from the fun, fancy trips, I'm still empty and the high wears off. There is still beer and banana nut muffins, but those just fill me up, not fulfill me.

I've gained plenty of weight since being here. I've remained fairly active, but haven't taken great care of myself overall. I haven't kept a good routine, which I've learned I absolutely need in order to be productive and happy. But I also don't look at those extra 10 lbs too negatively. They've put a lot of things in perspective for me and I know how to get rid of them. So no point in getting down about it.

It's taken a few years to realize or acknowledge that I truly do miss the camaraderie of the Air Force. I guess I have acknowledged that before, but the feelings have gotten stronger and more meaningful with time. I really miss belonging to something I care so deeply about. Distance makes the heart grow fonder? 

Without a routine, I have generally felt overwhelmed and small tasks felt daunting. If I built myself a to-do list of 20 things in the morning...prioritization became an issue because did I really have to do all those things? No. Were they all really important? I don't know. I made the list, why didn't I know?!? Should I be looking for a job right now? Or maybe start writing that book I dream about writing? Because obviously I don't feel fulfilled. I don't know, but I don't even know where to start. Back to vacuuming. And on and on.

Sound silly? Well if not one person out there can relate, call me a freak.

I had no problem giving myself plenty to do. I just had a problem doing all the things. Instead of just tackling one thing and moving on to the next and not worrying about what I didn't get done or what was left for the next day, I let myself feel defeated. Boredom wasn't the problem. Lack of focus, absolutely. Throw too much clutter in my environment in there and...what a mess.

On that note, when I worked full time, we somehow got all the laundry and grocery shopping done and meals on the table and the house cleaned and the dogs cared for....yet now these things seemed to be a full time job in themselves and the monotony of it got boring and exhausting and I felt like I was failing at all of it. I mean if that is all you really have to do, shouldn't you be perfect at it? But my mind was always wandering in other directions other than meal planning.

While in some ways my confidence has taken a hit, I've also learned to dig deeper. I've learned to lean on the friends and loved ones who truly support me and are in my corner. Who I can confide in. And (at least try) not to worry about what the rest of the people think. Because while I always thought or wanted to believe I didn't care about what others think, none of us want to be judged. I've learned to consciously remind myself that it. doesn't. matter. What they think. Truly believing these things to our core requires really awesome self talk and awesome people to remind you. I'm going to drop another big name in this post- Chalene Johnson. Ok she isn't my close friend, but DANG does she radiate confidence and authenticity like a boss. I've learned a lot from her videos, podcasts and her Success Academy.

On an overall gloomy note, I've generally just felt down a lot. And consistently. But that has forced me to take a look at why. And figure out how to fix it. If I can recognize certain things that I miss that did make me happy, and the things that I want to avoid that don't make me happy...isn't that progress? I don't have it all figured out and I definitely have a long way to go but I feel a bit more wise with a little tougher skin. About to turn 31.....'bout damn time. 

I've learned so much during the struggles. I guess that is my whole point here. None of it was really clear at the time; it's only come together retrospectively. I guess it's more like... "The way you showed up for your life (or didn't) the past year was necessary for your growth."

So 2016 is just a year that I'm kind of excited about. I've got a lot of lessons in my toolbox. A little better understanding of who I am and what I need in my life and what is missing. A little bit more confidence to move forward and a little better idea of where I'm headed. I did allow myself to press a reset button in the last week and a half. Part of that was just making myself take all the positives away from the mess I feel like I've been in. I'm getting back into a workout routine, filling my happiness and gratitude jars each night, and accepting baby steps as progress. 

I guess my resolution is to just keep going and definitely look back on what I've learned when I'm feeling overweight, not confident, not focused, not productive, not good enough, not __________. Because I need to be a better version of myself in order to pour myself out to the world and contribute in a way that is meaningful and important to me. I don't want to waste as much time as I have been. Time is precious. If you are drained, lost, feeling similar in any way...I hope this inspires you to do the same. 

                               

Normandy

Normandy is beautiful countryside.

Our trip was amazing.

It's strange saying that, given the nature of what we went there to see.

It's almost impossible to imagine what went on there 71 years ago. But we tried. Just to be there is completely humbling.

I don't remember feeling much of anything when I learned about D-Day and World War II in school. In fact, I don't really even remember when I learned about it, what grade I was in or any of the details. As we walked from site to site and museum to museum, reading story after story of what really went on, I thought how terrible it is that I didn't feel emotional about anything that happened until I was standing right on the Normandy landing sites at age 30.

As I got older and saw my brother going through ROTC and what he was preparing to do in the wake of 9/11, I developed a deeper appreciation for our military and eventually my own desire to serve my country. But as we walked through the Normandy American Cemetery the morning before we drove back to Calais, after 2 days of absorbing what D-Day REALLY meant for the U.S., Europe and really the world, I listened to a French tour guide explain to a group of young American kids the importance of what the U.S. military fought for and defended during that time, that the freedoms and values we have today were protected by them and why we must always remember what they did, and tears rolled down my face. It was powerful. This French woman had such a deep appreciation for that day and that War and our country. And I felt like I had never appreciated any of it nearly as much, until I was standing in the middle of the American Cemetery.

Normandy American Cemetery. There are 9.400 graves there, out of 407,000 U.S. military who died during WW2.

That might sound strange. I'm patriotic. I was in the military. I miss serving my country. My husband is in the military. I completely support the military and appreciate all that they do. There are so many ways to support the military, whether it is monetarily, through volunteer groups, serving yourself or being that supportive spouse, family member or friend. But I realized for me that is the *easy* part. All the brave ones who are gone...it's those who we must make ourselves remember and think about. Of course we don't forget about those who we knew personally or are connected to in some way, but every life lost is so very important and I know I do not think about that often enough. After this trip, that became clear to me. I felt everything very deeply that weekend.   

Every soldier who gave their life deserves our remembrance on a more individual level. Every unknown and missing solider has a name and loved ones without closure and they deserve our remembrance on a more individual level, not only as a collective group we call POW/MIA. 

The blood that was shed for liberation is absolutely astounding.

The steps we walked from Omaha Beach up to the Cemetery

Can you imagine this beautiful water as the 'Bloody Omaha?' It's so incredibly sad. But don't we owe it to our men to remember when it wasn't so beautiful?

We had lovely French hosts at a home on Omaha Beach. Emmanuel served us a fresh, delicious breakfast at whatever time we chose both mornings. He talked with us and helped us make the most of our time, gave us a book of information to reference and treated us like friends when he made us a reservation at the nice local restaurant down the street. We went back there for dinner the second night and I think the staff were pleased we enjoyed Normandy and dining with them so much, giving us some Calvados on the house :) Everyone we met was so friendly.

Here are my trip pictures on Flickr. I wanted to capture everywhere we went, and even some of what I read. So sometimes there are pictures with a lot of words that you would have to zoom in to read, but you might find some of it interesting. Even all the information on landing vehicles, trucks and tanks starts painting a picture of just how massive the operation was. 

This trip was one of my favorites ever, and I know that it probably always will be. It made an impact on me that I will be forever grateful for. 

Tales of Moldy Bread & a SAHW

Walking into the living room this morning holding a large container of peanut butter, my husband asks "Hey Breanne, all of the bread is moldy so do you mind if I just take this peanut butter to work and I will buy a loaf of bread before my flight.....?"

No. Not at all. I do not mind. Take all of the peanut butter.

Responds the worst wife ever.

My heart is clearly not in being solely responsible for the grocery shopping or providing for my hard-working husband. While I always strive to be better at this (and seriously I'm always at the grocery store), I am not into meal planning and sometimes I feel like I'm living like a college student who eats whatever is laying around. Ok maybe a healthier student....an apple here, a piece of cheese there, wine always. Or someone who doesn't have time because they work all day.

But I don't. I don't do that anymore. That is not my life. I *do* miss it.

And I fill my days with plenty of things, but meal planning like a grown-up is not one of them. I should be at the grocery store, getting everything we need. I feel guilty not being perfect at this. How have I not perfected this yet?!

It's amazing how much guilt I can feel for not being a perfect homemaker now that.....that is one of my primary duties.

But I liked it better when I had a different purpose and we could share responsibility for moldy bread.

Dave is the breadwinner. Should he not be responsible for the bread?!

Ok bad joke.

I know that I, and only I, can change the course of my life's work. It is up to me to gather the strength, take the risk, take a leap of faith and acknowledge (what I think is) the passion that has been screaming at me and making me perform so terribly as grocery shopper, among other things. I've been ignoring it for so long ("it"....the "passion" = coaching)

The moldy bread is just a reminder of how long. Sorry, Dave! I love you and am always grateful for the life you've given us and your willingness to eat *whatever* is available for lunch.

Respect Each Other: Think Before You Post

I use social media quite a bit. I am not perfect, and I'm sure I have occasionally posted a photo or two that would be best left off the internet.

But when it comes to speculation about fatalities in our military community- absolutely not.

This week, one of our KC-135s had an in-flight emergency and "disappeared" off the radar over the English Channel in the middle of the night. Somehow, this information very quickly made it to the media. This was the first problem. Why in the world....

The second problem is that the "news" was very quickly published in the Daily Mail and probably other outlets without verification with our leadership or Public Affairs office. If they had tried that first, there would not have been an article. This is really unbelievable. The media is out of control. I see this as blatant disrespect for our military & our military families. But it's no news that the media just sucks these days. 

The third problem, and the one we can control individually as spouses and therefore in our military community, is that the article seemed to spread like wild fire. Once it is in print, this will undoubtedly happen to a certain point. But don't be a part of the problem by posting it on Facebook or wherever else.

Now, spouses lay awake at night worrying....is that one of ours? My husband is flying tonight but I'm not sure where. My husband isn't flying but my best friend's husband is on that flight...did something really happen? What is going on?

All for nothing.

Please contact your leadership before you re-post or share that vague article. 

There was an in-flight emergency. It was dealt with appropriately by the aircrew and they landed very shortly after their scheduled time.

The emotional cost of trying to keep your friends "informed" about what "might" have happened to their spouse or a spouse of one of their friends by sharing poorly written, speculative news articles on Facebook is too high, and it only makes you feel better. Not the person who will worry the most about their loved one. 

I can honestly say I don't worry about my husband when he flies. I don't say that to sound like a self-righteous jerk, but it's true. He has done all he can do to be the best pilot he can be. But if something were to happen, I do not need to know about it until someone shows up at my door- the people I have designated, or at least expect, to inform me should this happen. This is my right. I deserve it. Do not take this away from me. Or anyone.

I can't drive this point home better than this story does. I read it shortly after it was written a couple years ago and a friend just re-posted it this week after this most recent (unnecessary) scare in our community. Please read it and take it to heart.

http://keepcalmandhaveacosmo.blogspot.co.uk/2014/03/racing-facebook-new-challenge-for.html

If something happens to my husband and I find out on Facebook, I will certainly not be giving you a badge for being the one who informed me of the news first. I will be emotionally exhausted from probably worrying & being in denial for hours before that knock at my door. And then I would be mourning for a very long time. And if absolutely nothing happened to my husband but I knew he was the one flying over the English Channel that night, I would be distraught for no reason. So save me the extra hours of pain and save your energy and don't share that article with me. Don't share it with anyone. Respect each other.

Anne Frank House

After searching for tickets a couple weeks before our trip and finding that there were 'No tickets available' to the Anne Frank House for the rest of April, but also after learning that more tickets regularly become available for the 'day of' or next couple days, I knew I might eventually find myself in a situation where I was frantically and/or obsessively reloading the ticket page to find tickets.

Yes, that day came when we were on the ferry from Harwich to the Hook of Holland. The wifi was just existent enough for me to see that more tickets became available for that day and the next 2 days, but so unbelievably slow that I was never able to purchase tickets. After 7 hours of trying, I almost gave up on the idea of getting them at all and decided I would just have to come back to Amsterdam.

It was really important to me to see this historical location.

2 days later, I was able to purchase 2 tickets for that evening from my phone while we were walking around Amsterdam. I was so relieved. I don't know....how can you enjoy all of Amsterdam without stopping to honor the horrific experience and incredible spirit of Anne Frank?

During what felt like a solid day of agony trying to get the tickets, I sort of stopped to think why this was so important to me. Memories of my childhood came flooding back.....to when I learned about Anne Frank, and built a model house with all the furniture for school. I don't know what grade it was; so many of the unimportant details are fuzzy. But some of the emotions I felt learning about her incredible experience definitely stuck with me. I have to say as an adult who has witnessed even more evil in the world since, her experience was no less tragic to think about or relive as I walked through the house. To be walking through the secret annex where they hid from evil for so many years was just so powerful.

My heart sank. Some tears fell. This was one of the quotes in the first room we walked through.

 "The time will come when we'll be people again....."

Incredible. Incredible that the Jews were in the situation that they were; that she recognized the injustice at her age, and that she believed in a better way of life & was brave enough to write about it. Writing can be so powerful, for the reader and, I would argue, even more so for the writer. As I went through the museum and learned about the role that writing played in her life, I could really relate.

Her father, after reading her diary (after her death)- 
"....and my conclusion is, as I had been in very very good terms with Anna, is that most parents don't know really, their children."

My heart broke for Anne and her father when I heard this. You can spill on to paper what you just can't put into words for even those closest people in your life. I know this.  

During the darkest times, she shared her deepest and darkest feelings in her diary, that she planned on eventually turning into a book. Writing kept her from going crazy, when all she wanted to do was sing and dance and enjoy the outdoors.  

The tulips are beautiful. The canals are gorgeous. The cheese is delicious. The trip was amazing. But Anne Frank really kept things in perspective.

Sometimes I feel like I'm participating in one big 3-year travel competition while living here. It's easy to start feeling like you "aren't doing enough" compared to others, because everyone's travels are always in your face, quite frankly. While we love to travel and would like to see as much as possible, I try to always be mindful of how fortunate we are to get to do the things we do and see the places we see. There will always be more. 'More' is not a good measuring stick.

Going through the Anne Frank House is just one of those experiences that makes you truly appreciate freedom & all of the joy we get to experience every day, no matter where we live or how much or little we travel. Just getting tickets for the experience made me feel more at ease for the rest of the trip and made me stop worrying about what we were going to see and do, because what could be more significant? I felt so fortunate just to be there.

Anne Frank, your spirit certainly lives on. You are amazing!

Altnernative modes of transportation

My cousin Jen sent this to me with perfect timing today. I thought I would post it as a follow-up to my broken car night catastrophe post.

My car is still pretty much broke. For all intents and purposes.

You know, that doesn't sound that bad. First world problem, correct? It doesn't explain me drowning myself in wine.

The thing is....the broken car was just the icing.

On the shit cake.

But this icing/breakdown...it has forced me to find alternate modes of...dealing with things. It has forced me to be vulnerable with pretty new but amazing friends. People who could think I'm crazy but have been nothing but kind and generous. It has forced me to lean on people when I've always thought I could get through everything on my own. It has forced me to ask for help.....*gasp*

It has forced me to take a leap of faith and believe a little. 

A Raw Post by a Military Spouse Expat

I cried on and off for several hours tonight.

Everything came to a boiling point today when my beater of a car finally said "Times up, SUCKER. I'm out. Deal with your issues." Or at least that is what has come of the situation. Husband gone/deployed/whatever/not here and complicated car issues. Apparently that was enough to just set me off. I've been stressed about all kinds of things, and frankly, a little bit lonely. And then the seventh thing went wrong with my car and that was it. It is not drivable. I'm just overwhelmed. Just one of those times when it feels like things are crumbling. And now it's me with my tears and a bottle or two of wine. Because this shit always just happens at the perfect time. I hate, hate asking for help or realizing I can't get through everything on my own.  

Don't worry. What my body is losing in tears, it's gaining in wine. This has to be a start to recovery. 

But really, tears are powerful. When you sob and let it all go, you just start to feel better and think more clearly. I let Teddy lick all the tears away, and then I went outside with (my awesome) pups and played with them for a while. Happy, happy, tail-wagging pups. And I'm sure that helped. And don't get me wrong, I have some amazing friends who have let me vent, vent, vent and it has helped tremendously.

But when you hit a low, you are forced to practice gratitude. Like you should do anyway. Maybe my car is just trying to get me back on track and make me remember what really matters. Not cars. 

Over the last few days, I packed up all of the Christmas decorations. But why pack these cards up?!?! They always sit out for a while and then I don't know what I do with them....display the photo cards and shove the other ones in a box. Tonight I looked at them and smiled. Well, they are all being hung up for a while. Just as a lil' reminder that people are thinking of us even if I don't always feel it. I'm not alone. I need to reach out to people who care and tell them what is going on, not put up walls. That is my fault. I'm imperfect and/but I'm enough. I'm enough to reach out and ask for help and to be imperfect. These people think I'm enough. 

That is the raw me. The raw version of me living far away from so many loved ones, doubting my worthiness and trying all the time to be a better wife, daughter, sister, niece, granddaughter, friend. Thank you to those who have stood by me and supported me. And thank you, Brene. I am halfway done with The Gifts of Imperfection and it is like my bible. You are brilliant. This is my pledge.

The Many Faces of 26.2

It's been just over a week since I completed the 2014 Dublin Marathon. That day, I thought to myself 'I have so much to write about...' And then as each day passed, I felt all the thoughts, emotions and lessons that would make a great race report and blog post start to fade. So I'm going to dig for all that and still try.

There are these people. And then there are these people. I am not sure if this post is for the people who have no idea why others train for long distances and may or may not care, the ones who think it's about bragging (like bitter 13.1 sticker man...sad, sad man), people who might be intrigued by how it can change you or for those people who know exactly what it's like. But I had a friend suggest I blog about this seemingly emotional event, so even if it's just for you and me, friend, I'm ok with that. I don't want to forget this one. 

In the 6 marathons I've registered for, I don't think I had ever registered for one 10 months before the event. WHY would I do that?? I later wondered. We had just moved to the UK and I was eager to get back to marathon training after over a year and apparently really EAGER to make that official. A marathon in Dublin? Nothing about that sounded like it could be bad.

And then my 10-month struggle to adjust to running on the local terrain began. Some of you already know, or have at least tried to understand my whining, about why I kind of stopped enjoying it. You don't really need to know the details....just that I hated it. I was the most out of shape I had been in....as long as I could remember, and I'm pretty sure my mindset was too negative from the beginning. Once I realized I did not have the perfect Kansas running conditions I was used to, I guess I decided it was my way or no way. This was going to suck.

I had ups and downs, periods when I felt motivated to get back on the training track before derailing again. Just hang on to whatever fitness I'd acquired so far, but not drastically improve my endurance and definitely not speed. And certainly not any kind of combination of the two.

I knew from all of my previous marathon training that this was not good. Up until this point, I had improved during every marathon. I had learned a lot training for each one, and then quite a bit during the race as well. In my opinion, for me personally, I had smoked the Marine Corps Marathon in October 2012. But I also knew how hard I had trained. And I was nowhere near that level this time. I told myself Just Do It, but it wasn't working. I basically just accepted my motivation problems but also felt bad. I was even letting my I Run 4 buddy, Kaden, down.

As the marathon approached, I was counting the days until it was over. That is no way to feel about a race that takes several hours. I was bummed I had to give up the BQ goal, and even more bummed I wasn't even sure about breaking 4 hours. For me personally, it felt like there was no reason to run another marathon unless I at least had the chance to improve my time. Shit happens on race day, but insufficient prep and training feels like failing. Hence, just wanting to get this whole experience over with.

But I'm also experienced enough as a runner (and maybe wise enough at 29) to realize that was not a good way to approach the whole thing. Things hadn't gone the way I wanted, but there were several things to focus on. I'm always thankful for my ability to run, and then to be able to travel to Ireland to participate in a marathon through a beautiful city? Heck yes. I even thought about walking it with a Camelbak of Guinness, but that really seemed like taking the easy way out.

The night before the race, I was lying in bed flipping through the program. I read through a section titled "20 Tips for the Road" by Conor O'Hagan. Number 19 read: Have a Plan B. There may come a point where you realize your target has slipped away from you....by having a secondary target - perhaps 30 minutes slower- you could keep the motivation you need to press on..."

I wasn't even sure what my target was at that point, so I knew I needed to be flexible no matter what I decided. Ultimately breaking 4 hours was still my goal, but when sharing my doubts with a friend before the race, he said "you'll at least break 4:30."

A little play-by-play:

Like an idiot, I started with the 3:50 pace group. I knew it was a stretch at the time, but looking back, it was actually....stupid. 4:00 would have been more reasonable, but now I know not to let the race day adrenaline get the best of me and override simple logic and numbers that make sense based on my training.

I started out at an 8:35 pace. Also not appropriate. I watched the 3:50 pacers run past me at I think mile 5 or 6. Plan B set in, because who was I kidding anyway?

Mentally, I was already telling myself to just keep a good pace through the half. Beat 2 hours and you're still a star!

False logic, really, if I wanted to be able to actually run the whole thing. Though I'm still not sure that if I had slowed down my pace then that I would have made it longer before walking/running. I knew what was missing in my training was time on my feet (running).

I pushed out the half in 1:59:34.

I broke down mentally. I texted during a race, for the first time ever. I told Dave I didn't know if I would finish....I never even thought that during my first marathon. My thoughts were toxic, but I was in pain and couldn't imagine running the rest or being on my feet for the time it would take to walk the rest. He sent me some love and I kept going.

At mile 15.17, I was walking. I was at a low, mostly mentally but obviously physically. A man ran up behind me, put his hand on my shoulder, looked me in the eye and said "let's go." It broke my little freaking running heart. I don't know why. Don't get me wrong, the crowd was loud and there was a lot of support in general. But I had walked by a lot of spectators and a lot of people had run by me...this guy noticed. I don't know if he picked me or if he picked all the walkers but I felt the strong support of a fellow runner. I realized he knew my pain and knew I could overcome it.

I realized the power of running with others. If only I had gotten a training buddy for this marathon...most people do. I just enjoy running alone. Until I'm totally unmotivated, and then maybe it's not so good. Duh. 

I had to pee for several miles....that has never happened before (because I'm a sweat MACHINE) and threw me off as well. I waited 2 minutes for a port-a-john at mile 17 and after that decided it was time to get on with it. At 19 miles I saw my buddy again, walking. I realized it was him as I passed, turned and ran back to him and told him I remembered him. We exchanged some encouraging words.

I probably walked more than I needed to, but at that point I wasn't racing for a time, really. I was and I wasn't. I was doing a lot of thinking while I walked....a lot of reflecting about how this all made me feel.

I was not satisfied, but I was also not beating myself up. I realized I really, really missed the feeling I had during the Marine Corps Marathon. When I was in such good shape that I fully embraced all the pain, mentally and physically. I could push so hard during the race because I was prepared and I loved that. I almost passed out after because even though I had taken a lot of fuel during the race, I had obviously left everything I had out there. I thought a lot about how I missed running that hard and missed the good kind of pain.

I wasn't enjoying the unprepared kind of pain.

I'm convinced I would have kept hating running until I was disappointed in a race.

I guess I still need to figure out a way to enjoy training where I am, but I either figure that out or stop running marathons, and that is not what I want.

That is what I learned.   

I was fighting tears for a couple hours afterward. I don't know why I was fighting them, they were good. I felt alive again. 

When talking about the race with a friend a couple days later, and still comparing it to "my last marathon," he said "You were a different person then..."

How true is that? Are we ever the same people we were 2 years ago? Probably not. So I finished 32 minutes slower but learned a lot about my passions, how mentally tough (or not tough) I am, what I want to get out of my races, how to adjust goals and the value of fellow runners. I've always known the value of volunteers but I felt a new level of appreciation for them that day. Last time all I learned was that proper training pays off, and I already knew that ;-) And hey, at least I beat 4:30 according to my old running buddy's prediction. It's like he knows me.

I've had a 26.2 magnet for a few years now. It's on the side of my fridge & reminds me of the journeys I've taken to push my body's limits. It holds up my current training plans. I could put it on my car. It doesn't really matter. That's really all I have to say about the magnet. It's not about the magnets or the stickers. 

We take on these challenges to become stronger & learn more about ourselves. I wish everyone knew & appreciated the joy in finding something so challenging, painful and wonderful that makes you grow, so if you don't have something in your life that does for you, find it.  And don't ever give up, fellow runners. 

Optimistic, happy, sad, in pain, happy (again!), 
determined, exhausted, proud. 
When is the next marathon?