Tag Archives: Marathon

Running from Everything: The August Marathon

Here in the thick of August, we find ourselves on the last, long lap of summer—the kind you run when you can both see the finish line and also suspect it might, in fact, be moving further away every time you glance up. In our house, the new school year is lurking just around the last bend: two weeks for the kids, but my husband and I are up for a head start with students next week. If this were a Disney race, we’d already have hit the castle, gotten distracted by a Dole Whip, and realized we still have to finish.

I work all summer, so my personal schedule doesn’t change much—it’s the unremarkable “Tomorrowland Speedway” of routines: reliable, uninspired, and a little too loud. But my husband and our kids? Their summer is pure Magic Kingdom chaos: rope drop every morning, parades all day, fireworks every night. Bedtime and wake-up times are more like vague suggestions, as if the laws of time only apply to mortals living outside the borders of summer vacation.

But race director that I am, I know better than to let the “RunDisney After Party” lifestyle run all the way to the start line of school. With two weeks left, I’ve activated the dreaded Operation: Earlier Bedtimes, much to the dismay of the crew who have become accustomed to living like nocturnal pirates. If I don’t do this now, the first day of school will look less like the opening moments of a Disney half marathon and more like the “balloon ladies” coming for anyone left at the back.

To try and restore balance (or at least fake it long enough to get us to the first bell), I’m putting us all on a reentry plan worthy of any Dopey Challenge: one room gets cleaned each day, one load of laundry run, and there’s a loose attempt at meal planning, in between the usual nutritional gambit of “Is this leftover pizza or the lost-and-found churro from last week?” I know this will pay off with more evenings free for kid activities, maybe even some peaceful runs around the neighborhood—my solo laps through the EPCOT of suburban life, waving to neighbors like we’re all characters in some elaborate parade.

Most days, I’m just trying to help my kids (and myself) become finishers in the marathon of “life skills.” The goal isn’t perfection; it’s having options. I want my kids to try gymnastics, football, science club, trombone—whatever piques their curiosity, like a list of Genie+ reservations: the more you sample, the better your story. Back in my day, exploring wasn’t so easy, and specializing was rarely a choice. I’ve found that being a jack-of-all-trades and a master of none has gotten me far: kind of like being able to race all four Disney parks, rather than winning one. In my career and as a coach, I see again and again that it’s the kids who diversify—who build different muscles, learn from new experiences, and sometimes even get a little lost along the way—who really go the distance.

And that’s what I’m aiming for: a family ready not just for school, but for the miles and magic that come after the starting gun sounds.

Running from MRI Season: Another Lap Around the Track

Since 2022, I’ve had a standing date with an MRI machine every year—my own personal Groundhog Day, except instead of a rodent predicting the weather, it’s a giant magnet peering into my brain and predicting, well, me. The scans always show the same old stroke souvenirs (thanks for the memories, 2022!), but otherwise, things have been reassuringly uneventful until last week.

This year’s MRI landed on Juneteenth, which, if nothing else, makes for a memorable calendar entry. Normally, I handle my time in “the cage” with the stoicism of a runner at mile 18—uncomfortable, yes, but nothing I can’t power through. But this time, I had a hunch things would be different. Not fear, exactly. More like that feeling you get in the last quarter-mile of a race when you know something’s off with your stride. You’re not sure what, but you know.

A few hours later, the results dropped, and—cue the dramatic music—my hunch was right. White Matter Hyperintensity. Left frontal lobe. The start of Small Vessel Disease—a phrase that hovers ominously, hinting at the possibility of dementia down the road, like those balloon ladies at the back of a marathon, always just behind you, no matter how hard you push. But honestly, I wasn’t surprised. My body has been sending up distress flares for months, and I’ve been logging the symptoms like a runner logs miles:

  • Vision doing its own thing
  • Words playing hide-and-seek in my brain
  • Short-term memory that’s, well, short
  • Blood pressure so low it could limbo under a garden hose (88/56, if you’re keeping score)
  • Insomnia that only Trazodone can tame
  • Mood swings that make Boston’s Heartbreak Hill look like a bunny slope
  • Depression and anxiety, the unwelcome running buddies
  • Heart rate dropping to 49 bpm—elite marathoner numbers, but without the medals
  • Dizzy spells and vision blackouts whenever I stand up (or, you know, attempt yoga)
  • 15 pounds lost in 2 months (if only it were from marathon training)
  • Balance so wobbly, I could be running on cobblestones in Rome

It’s been a slow, sneaky build—like overtraining, but without the endorphin highs. At one point, I was convinced I had early-onset Parkinson’s. I talked to my therapist, journaled about it, and notified not one, not two, but four doctors. The collective medical response? Order another MRI. (Doctors, it turns out, are like race marshals: quick to hand you a cup of water, but not so quick to notice you’re limping.)

Yesterday, my neurologist’s PA emailed me: “No new signs of stroke!”—complete with a cheery smiley face. I suppose that’s meant to be reassuring, but when you’re the one living with the symptoms (and the new MRI findings), it feels a bit like being told, “Great job, you finished the race!” when you know you took a wrong turn at mile 10.

So here I am, left to manage the aftermath. I’m the one who can’t remember which kid I’m yelling for, or why there’s pizza on the wall, or how to explain to my husband that the three-year-old’s culinary experiments are not, in fact, a sign of genius. Losing your train of thought all day is exhausting—like being stuck in an endless training cycle with no taper in sight. No finish line, no medal, just more laps.

And that’s the real question, isn’t it? If you already know what the race result will be, is it worth running? I’m not saying I won’t toe the start line. Runners are stubborn like that. But knowing the suffering ahead, you do wonder: Is it worth it?

Maybe that’s the point. We run not because we know the outcome, but because we don’t. Because every mile, every scan, every day is a chance to surprise ourselves. And sometimes, even when the course is tough and the finish line is uncertain, you just keep running from everything—if only to see what’s around the next bend to scare the hell out of you.

Running from Little Green Men

As a self-proclaimed Walt Disney World expert—meaning I can tell you the exact number of churros you can eat before you lose the will to live—one of my favorite corners of the parks is Toy Story Land. Nestled in Disney’s Hollywood Studios (which, let’s be honest, will always be MGM Studios to those of us who remember the Backlot Tour and the inexplicable presence of a Golden Girls house), this is the place where you get to be a toy for the day. It’s all giant building blocks, oversized board game pieces, and a healthy dose of nostalgia. It’s like stepping into your childhood, only with more sunscreen and slightly more expensive snacks.

Now, as a parent, my mission is to bring a little of that magic home, specifically, to the boys’ bathroom. Yes, you heard me: I am attempting to transform the most utilitarian room in the house into a Toy Story-themed wonderland. I have plans. Big plans. Beadboard! Wallpaper! Window coverings! Hanging monkeys! (The plastic kind, not the real ones. I’m not that ambitious.) I want it to be colorful, kid-friendly, and the kind of place where you half-expect Woody to pop out from behind the shower curtain and remind you to wash your hands.

But here’s the thing: the only thing standing between me and this Pixar-inspired paradise is, well, me. And a lack of power tools. And possibly a healthy fear of accidentally nailing my own foot to the floor.

What I really want—what I yearn for—is a mitre saw. And a jigsaw. And a nail gun. I want to be the kind of person who uses phrases like “orbital sander” in casual conversation and actually knows what it means. I want home projects to be my hobby, not just something I watch on YouTube with a mixture of awe and mild terror.

But here’s the secret Disney never tells you: learning something new, whether it’s how to wield a nail gun or how to navigate Genie+, is a lot like training for a marathon.

Stay with me here. When you decide to run a marathon (or, in my case, when you decide to run away from everything and end up in a marathon by accident), you don’t just lace up your shoes and jog 26.2 miles. You start small. You run a block. You wheeze. You Google “can you die from running?” You keep going. Over time, you get a little stronger, a little faster, and a little more confident that you won’t collapse in a heap by mile two.

Learning a new skill—like transforming a bathroom into Andy’s room, or figuring out how to use a mitre saw without losing a finger—is the same way. It’s about taking baby steps. You watch a video. You read an article. You buy a tool and stare at it for a week, wondering if you need a permit just to plug it in. You make mistakes. You learn. You get a little better. Eventually, you’re not just surviving—you’re thriving. Or at least you’re not actively endangering yourself or others.

So, as I stand in the doorway of the boys’ bathroom, armed with nothing but enthusiasm and a vague idea of how wallpaper works, I remind myself: this is my marathon. There will be setbacks. There will be questionable design choices. There will almost certainly be paint on the ceiling. But with each small step, I’m getting closer to creating a space that’s as magical as Toy Story Land—minus the crowds and the $6 sodas.

And who knows? Maybe someday I’ll be the kind of person who can say “orbital sander” with confidence. Or at least with fewer power tool-related injuries.

Until then, I’ll keep running from everything—except my dreams of a Toy Story bathroom.

Have you tackled a Disney-inspired home project? Or survived a marathon (literal or metaphorical)? Share your stories below! And if you have tips for using a mitre saw, please send help.

Running from Design

I have big dreams for my home. Not the kind of dreams that involve marble countertops or a kitchen island the size of an aircraft carrier, but the sort that, if achieved, would allow me to walk into my living room and not immediately trip over a pile of shoes, a sticky patch of mystery goo, or a rogue action figure. My interior design style, much like my running pace, varies wildly depending on the day, the weather, and whether or not I’ve had coffee. But I don’t think it’s bad. And besides, the only person who visits with any regularity is my mom, and she’s legally obligated to say nice things.

Recently, my parents’ friends—who, judging by the amount of furniture I’ve inherited, must be living in an empty box by now—offered me a rug. It’s colorful. Very colorful. The kind of colorful that makes you question whether your brown couch (also from said friends) will ever recover from the shock. After two hours of rearranging furniture, which, by the way, is the closest I’ve come to cross-training in months, the rug was down. And, to my surprise, it looked… good. Not “featured in a magazine” good, but “I won’t trip over it in the dark” good.

This minor victory inspired a cascade of home improvement ambitions. I ordered artwork. I mapped out a board and batten wall. I even dusted off the nail gun I bought four months ago—still in its box, like a race medal I haven’t quite earned yet. There are, of course, a few obstacles:

  1. Power Tools: I have never operated anything more complicated than a blender. And that was only because I needed a post-run smoothie.
  2. Blood Thinners: When your blood is basically water, the prospect of wielding a nail gun becomes a high-stakes game of “Will it blend?”
  3. Spousal Support: My husband, bless him, is many things. Handy is not one of them. As my 3-year-old says, “They’re mommy’s tools!” He got the sports gene, not the construction gene.

I know the hardware store will cut boards for me, but the idea of asking for help makes me break out in a cold sweat. I can run a marathon, but apparently, I cannot ask a stranger to cut a piece of wood without fearing I’ll be mistaken for someone making a Pinterest craft gone wrong. (Not today, sir. Not today.)

Why am I doing this? Because, much like running, home improvement is a marathon, not a sprint. It’s a slow, steady process that involves planning, perseverance, and the occasional detour through the land of “What was I thinking?” My living room is rarely clean enough to be proud of—three boys see to that—but I want to create a space that makes me feel accomplished, even if the soundtrack is Phineas and Ferb singing about ‘S’winter’ and the floor is a minefield of Legos.

I’m thinking of documenting the process, because if running has taught me anything, it’s that progress is worth recording. Every training run, every new mile, every tiny improvement adds up. So too with home projects: getting the rug, moving the couch, and planning out the board and batten wall is, by my estimation, about 27% of the project. (Give or take. Len Testa would probably have a spreadsheet for this. Who am I kidding? I have a spreadsheet for this!)

We all have to start somewhere. Whether it’s the first mile of a marathon or the first nail in a wall, the important thing is to keep moving forward—preferably without stepping on anything sticky.

Sometimes, what you’re running from is just a living room in desperate need of a makeover. And sometimes, you run right into a home you’re proud of.

Running from the Weather

Spring has arrived—or so it claims. Here in the Midwest, spring is less of a season and more of an elaborate prank. It starts with what I like to call “false spring,” a tantalizing glimpse of warmth and sunshine that lasts just long enough to trick you into packing away your winter coat. Then comes “fake spring,” followed by “pseudo-spring,” and finally, the inevitable return of winter—twice. Just when you think you’ve survived the last winter, another one sneaks in like an uninvited guest at a party. And let’s not forget the grand finale: construction season. But that’s a rant for another day.

The weather here is so indecisive it could run for office. One minute it’s 77 degrees and sunny, and two hours later it’s snowing sideways. It’s like living inside a weather app that can’t make up its mind. For runners, this is nothing short of a nightmare. Dressing for an outdoor run becomes an exercise in meteorological guesswork: hand warmers and a sock hat? Or shorts and a tank top? Either way, you’re probably wrong.

Races this time of year are no better. You start bundled up like an arctic explorer but occasionally get faked out by a rogue warm day that leaves you sweating buckets by mile five. By December or January, though, it’s time to flee south for races—because while Ohio may have bipolar weather, at least Florida has the decency to pick a season and stick with it (mostly).

Take my marathon experiences in Florida as proof that even “consistent” weather can be wildly unpredictable:

  • January 2010: The Coldest Marathon Ever™. My hair literally froze during the race—it was 32 degrees at the start, which was fine because I’d trained in similar conditions. But by mile 20, my knee gave out, forcing me to walk half a mile. The cold was so brutal I had to start running again just to avoid freezing solid like some tragic runner-shaped ice sculpture. It took me two days to thaw out properly.
  • January 2012: The Temperature That Never Was. This race felt like running inside a vacuum—there was no discernible temperature at all, just an eerie neutrality that left me wondering if I’d accidentally entered some kind of weatherless dimension.
  • January 2014: Heat Advisories Galore. In my infinite wisdom, I wore all black and tights for this race—a decision that seemed fine until the temperature hit 90 degrees by hour five (yes, I’m slow). By then, it was hotter than blue blazes, and I spent the last few miles questioning every life choice that had led me to this moment.

So no, it’s not just Ohio—weather chaos can strike anywhere. My advice? Always have gloves handy. Being cold is infinitely worse than being too warm (though I say this as someone on blood thinners, so take my bias with a grain of salt). Overdressing beats underdressing every time—unless you’re running in 90-degree heat while wearing tights, but let’s not dwell on my poor judgment.

Spring may be unreliable, but running through its ups and downs teaches you resilience. After all, if we can survive spring weather every year without losing our minds entirely, we can survive anything!

Running Back to the Saddle

In the crisp autumn air of Indianapolis, with leaves crunching underfoot and the promise of adventure hanging thick as morning fog, I found myself standing at the starting line of the Indianapolis Half Marathon. It was October 2023, and I was about to embark on a 13.1-mile journey through the heart of the Hoosier capital, a feat that seemed as improbable as finding a cowboy riding a horse down Broadway in New York City.

You see, dear reader, this wasn’t just any race for me. Oh no, this was my first major foray into the world of competitive shuffling since a rather inconvenient stroke had decided to pop by for an extended stay in my brain. Here I was, a former college athlete who once squatted small cars for breakfast, now questioning whether I could manage a brisk walk to the corner store without keeling over.

But let me tell you about the ingenious decision I made, one that would make even the most seasoned race veteran nod in approval. I splurged on the opportunity to start my day in the hallowed halls of the Indiana State House. Picture it: while other poor souls were huddled outside like penguins in a snowstorm, I was stretching my questionable limbs in the warm embrace of democracy, munching on a breakfast that didn’t come wrapped in tinfoil. It was a stroke of brilliance if you’ll pardon the pun.

As I waddled to the starting line, a mere stone’s throw from my cozy State House sanctuary, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of panic. Had I trained enough? Was I still the same person who had once pushed out babies with the ease of a vending machine dispensing snacks? The identity crisis loomed larger than the giant timing clock ticking away mercilessly above our heads.

The race began, and to my utter astonishment, I found myself running. Not the graceful gazelle-like strides of my youth, mind you, but a determined shuffle that would make any powerwalker proud. For five glorious miles, I was unstoppable. That is until my right shoe decided it had had enough of this foolishness and came untied.

Now, dear reader, picture if you will, a somewhat disheveled woman bent over a curb, fingers swollen to the size of small sausages, attempting to tie a shoelace. It was a sight so pitiful that a kind stranger took pity and performed the task for me. I briefly considered asking them to carry me the rest of the way, but my pride (what was left of it) wouldn’t allow it.

The next few miles were a blur of monotony, broken only by the occasional cheer from a spectator who had clearly mistaken me for someone else. But as we approached mile 10, something magical happened. We found ourselves running alongside the race’s overachievers – those annoyingly fit individuals who were already finishing. It was both inspiring and mildly infuriating.

As I crossed the finish line, my boys waiting with expressions that were equal parts pride and “can we go home now?”, I wanted to shout from the rooftops about my triumph over adversity. But instead, I settled for an internal victory dance, and the knowledge that I had, indeed, proven something to myself.

In the end, as I hobbled what felt like another half marathon to reach our parked car, I realized that toughness comes in many forms. Sometimes it’s squatting small buildings, and sometimes it’s putting one foot in front of the other when your brain has other ideas. And since that realization has landed me in therapy, well, at least I have plenty to talk about.

Pregnancy is a marathon

IMG_3592We made it to week 40! The big 4-0. It is a comforting feeling, because I know that the growth of Baby T is complete. On the other hand, I have been pregnant for forty week people. And not with just any baby: Chas Thompson’s baby. Those of you that know my husband know him as a noise maker, a wiggler, a wrestler (obviously), but a very sweet guy. Well I may not have met him yet, but I can tell you my son is just like his father, besides the fact that I am fairly certain he will wrestle at 197 or heavyweight based on his and my size at this point! At 34 weeks he was almost 7 lbs already… Yeah.

I am so in love with my husband, but he paces around the house when he is thinking hard or talking on the phone. He is constantly making noise like water dripping, or randomly singing out of nowhere and scaring the living daylights out of me (he has even made the baby jump before). Like his father, my unborn son does not stop moving. I have actually asked the nurse at my prenatal appointments if there is a point when you worry about your baby moving too much. I swear he will come out and be like Dash from The Incredibles, his little legs never slowing down. It’s like hyperactivity disorder in the womb! But in the end, I think he is just a happy boy that likes hanging out with him mom everyday.

When you first get pregnant, you know that week 40 is your goal. If you can cook that baby to week 40, you can relax a little bit, because growth should be done by that point. But for all women who have ever had a baby, you realize how much a marathon this process is. Let’s start from the beginning shall we?

At the beginning of the race, you are excited! You have you number on and are waiting in your corral, and if you are at Disney, you get to see fireworks as you cross the start line. Pregnancy… well I will just leave it at that.

The first few weeks, like the first few miles, you are getting your groove, getting used to the idea that you will be running for hours on end or carrying this baby for months. You feel fairly good as you get your stride, and are excited that you have something to look forward to: the finish line.

After about mile 4-5 (week 6-7 of pregnancy), you start wondering why you are doing this. You have so far to go. At Disney, you aren’t even to the Magic Kingdom yet! You need food and fuel, but you sort of feel like you might spew at any minute, but you force down that gel anyway. Really you just kinda wanna lay down. This is called the first trimester, and it lasts until about mile 8 or so.

From mile 8 to mile 18 (week 13-27), things start to go numb. Things hurt occasionally, but you are sort of in your groove, and the crowd of excited fans has finally thinned out a little bit. You realize that there is no turning back now, so you are basically just going through the motions attempting to make it to the next mile (or milestone). With every gel, your energy level increases for a bit, and you feel like you can actually accomplish something here.

Once you hit mile 20 (week 30ish), you know that you have only a few more to go before you get to see that finish line. You are once again excited and rejuvenated, but at the same time, your body hurts so bad that it is hard to concentrate on finishing. You know you will and can, but sometimes you just want to stop and cry, asking yourself why in God’s name did you sign up to do this in the first place!

The last month of pregnancy is pretty much identical to the last .2 miles of a marathon. It takes forever to get there, and you are sure that you were probably in such a daze you ran right past the finish, just continued to keep running and missed it, because there is no way in hell that .2 miles takes this long to run. Yep, that is pregnancy after week 36. You know what is coming. You are constantly in pain with a foot in your rib, nerve pain that cripples you at the drop of a hat, and peeing 14 times a night. You know this is what you have been working for these past nine months, but the ending is so unpredictable that you are still nervous. 

I know at some point I will make it to the finish line. We aren’t there quite yet. And like getting that nice shiny medal, my little baby will be the prize at the end of a long race. And oddly enough, I will probably be walking the same as if I had finished a marathon when he finally gets here. I am also fairly certain that when I see him, as when you finish a race, I will forget about how horrible the full experience really was and probably sign up for another. However, I am telling my husband that we are never doing this again…

Walt Disney World Marathon Weekend Recap

My biggest race of the year is always the second weekend of the year. I figure if I get the hard stuff out of the way early in the year, the I can sail through the rest of it. This year is sort of an exception, because I have to get married in the middle of it… you know, move in with someone, be a wife. This is not easy stuff we are talking about!

So back to the reason for this post: Walt Disney World Marathon Weekend! I was a complete idiot this year. I signed up for the Dopey Challenge, which involved running a total of 48.6 miles over the course of 4 days. I have never done this before, but the plan from the beginning was to run with friends, as I knew that slow and steady would be the best strategy. This is a struggle for me, because I have the mindset to put my head down and trudge through. I knew going in that I would need to hold back for the sake of the team.

We started with a 5K on Thursday bright and early at 6:15 am. My friends and I had decided to run 3/1 minute intervals, so slow and steadily, off we went. It was a successful race, through the back entrance of Epcot, around World Showcase, and back up to the parking lot where we started. It was a short, but enjoyable and fun race, and a great way to kick off a weekend of running.

Bruce, Me, Julie and Darren… My running buddies!

Friday was much of the same, but a little bit longer (10K distance) and started a little bit earlier. The group had decided to decrease our intervals to 2/1. The course was very similar, but extended the first 2.5 miles through the roads outside the front of Epcot. It was again an easy run, and I pushed it towards the end, finishing strong.

Day 2: Bruce, Julie, Me and D$

We knew Saturday was going to be a big test. The distance was 13.1 miles. Darren’s knees weren’t feeling great, and to be perfectly honest, a few of us were having some trouble getting rid of waste (if you get my drift). Our intervals were scheduled to be 1/1, and as we started our trek to the Magic Kingdom, it was obvious that at some point we would have to separate. We stayed together through mile 9-10 ish, then Bruce and I unleashed the beast and finished by abandoning out intervals and running the remainder of the way. I felt very strong after the race, but my heel was extremely sore.

Sunday morning came quickly, and let me tell you, knowing that you have run 3 races already, but you aren’t even halfway done with the total distance you are running (at this point we had completed 22.4 out of 48.6 miles) can be an overwhelming thought. Our intervals were scheduled at 1/1 again and we started out at target pace through the first 6 miles. We had to pull teeth for quite a few miles after that, trying to keep the group together. Once we got to mile 16, and had spent much of the last 6 miles walking, standing and waiting for fellow Team Kitchen Sink members, it was clear that continuing on was the only option. Bruce and I once again took the lead, pushing the pace, and finishing stronger than we had started. It took us over 6 hours to finish, which pains me a little bit to say, but I can tell you that I felt very confident in my training. Had I run at my training pace, I am certain that I would have PR’ed .

AH! Finished…

With lots of running, thousands of people, travel and very little sleep surrounding me, I headed back to California with a fever that reached 103.4 and lasted for about a week afterwards. Two weeks out at this point, I am still recovering physically from the flu, but I am getting back to normal.

I doubt that I will ever run the Dopey again. It is very time consuming to train for, plus I am fairly certain that married life will bring new challenges to contend with. I am so happy that I got to experience it though. It makes training for a regular marathon seem quite easy. On to bigger and better things in the coming days!

I just posted my new training schedule on the running calendar page. I am planning for another marathon in Oklahoma City in April at this point and am excited to start my new February schedule.

’14 is off to a start

Ok, ok. So it is 24 days into the new year, and I have yet to post. Well I have a good reason…

Ok, never mind. But I am posting now, so get over it. 

My 2014 has been a little different than most people’s. To start, work has been paying me a very large sum of money to do nothing but data entry since about December 1st. It completely sucks, but it is what has to be done. It hasn’t happened very often in this job, but my job satisfaction level is not very high right now. I mean, I am satisfied with my work, but not satisfied with the work I have to do. It’s kind of a bummer, but I know it will change before long.

I had the privilege of spending the first 8 days of the new year with Chas and my animals. I was working most of the time, but the feeling of what a normal day would be like, living back in Kansas of course, was spectacular. The only real problem with it all was that my day was starting at about 3:30 am. The races that I was preparing to run caused me to get up that early, so just as I trained for the races, I trained for the Rise and Shine too.

It went well, but once I was gone, and the dogs were still getting up that early, Chas didn’t appreciate it too much. Whoops!

I didn’t really set any resolutions this year. So many big things are happening to my life in 2014 that I assumed that would be enough for me to worry about… Running 48.6 miles, moving back to Kansas, getting married. I will also be lucky enough to see old friends and family, and spend the rest of my life with my best friend. Resolutions aren’t necessary for me to reach a level of happiness that I have ‘needed’ in past years.

I am planning on writing in more detail about the races, but will do that in a series of other posts over the next few weeks. Today’s post was just to catch myself up to speed on what my year has been like. I have decided to spend this weekend detailing my workout plan for February. After the races, I caught the flu and am still in recovery mode at this point. February is 28 days long, and the perfect amount of time to make some changes and start preparing my body for what I want it to look like in my wedding dress. 

I’m excited for new challenges and adventures this year, and I hope to post it all for you to see. It’s gonna be a great year…

Walt Disney World Half Marathon Review

Half Marathon CourseI am super excited, because I have been waiting for almost 2 months now to give you a review of the Disney World Marathon and Half Marathon. The reason for the delay is that I have been waiting to get my marathon photos. The CD arrived today, and I am happy to share them with my blog readers.

After a 2 am wake up call, we arrived at Epcot  just before 3. When a race starts at 5:35 am, you have to get going pretty early to be ready to run 13.1 miles. After weaving my way through a very congested pre-race area, I walked the near mile trail to the start line to wait in a corral for another hour. The pre-race process at Disney is very taxing! I finally crossed the start line about 6:05 am, and the congested feeling that had been present all morning continued on the race course.

I have posted a map of the course. From the start of the race, we head straight on Epcot Center Drive, and then proceed on the ramp to World Dr. The course was so congested here that I was ready to scream. The combination of a very full race (27,000+people) and a narrowing course caused me some major problems. While I used the Galloway method to complete the Goofy Challenge over this weekend, I run quite a bit faster than many of the folks I was 725161_1015_0002corralled with. I was walking because I simply couldn’t get by people, not because I wanted to. By mile 5, we were in the Magic Kingdom, where I dropped off my tech shirt to my mom near the castle, and moved along the course.

I finished this race strong, but disappointed and frustrated that I felt stifled by the crowd. My finish time was 2:45:05, which was my goal actually. I was excited and frustrated to think that I could have easily run that race a lot faster had I not been held back by the thick crowd of runners.

The rest of the day was spent sleeping, relaxing and refueling for the big day that was coming. My body felt pretty good for having run 13 miles, but my feet were a bit sore. Mom ordered us Outback, steaks and vegetables for dinner, and we took them back to the resort, sat by the pool and ate. After dinner that evening, I jumped in the hot tub for about 20 minutes to recover a bit. It was all the perfect combination, because the next day went splendidly…

More on the full marathon soon…