The Quest for Another Runner's High

Some time early on in my Elementary School years I discovered my love-hate relationship with running. 1st? 2nd grade maybe?  Mrs. Inge the PE teacher started the "Running Wildcat Club."  We kept track of our laps around the blacktop by taking popsicle sticks from our teacher.  Five laps around was a mile. Our goal was to "Run Across America." Or something like that. It was a good day at recess when I was able to run 5 laps around. An awesome day if it was 6.  Once I made it to third grade I was finally old enough to race in the mile during Field Day.  While I looked forward to it, the run quickly became a source of anxiety, too.  I managed to prevail over the butterflies and I beat all the girls and all the boys, except two: Cryst Banks and Stephen Jones. At the end of the year I was voted "Most Athletic" among Mrs. Robertson's 3rds grad class superlatives. At the time I was a little bummed about it, wishing I had received "Cutest Smile" or "Best Dressed"...or something "cool" like that.

I was running a 7-minute mile by the 5th grade, beating all the boys this time. In 6th grade I ran a 6:10 mile, in 7th 5:53. In 8th I shut down mentally and I didn't run anything special. It took a while for me to tap into my competitive side again. It wasn't until 11th grade when I got a new coach. Coach Joe, who had been coaching the boys distance team now had a charge over the girls, too. He was just what I needed and challenged me physically in every way. He was sternWe were running stadium steps and doing workouts harder than I'd ever done. My legs would be shaking at the end of practice. As a result, I finally got my mile down to 5:32. It was about time!

Jessica Hughes, Hanna McGrath, Tara Rabuck and Me at a celebratory spaghetti dinner {before or after some important meet...not sure!}

In high school I quite enjoyed practicing with my fellow teammates. They were a special group of gals and will always hold a special place in my heart. Track meets were still another story. I was anxious, and the nervousness consumed me. I began to dread Wednesdays, the day we had track meets. Butterflies in my stomach all day. I spent so many Wednesdays in dread and fear! Mom and Dad came faithfully every Wednesday. They remained my great cheerleaders and supported me, even in my slumps. They drove me to invitationals and bought pair after pair of running shoes and track spikes.  I remember when I left one of my spikes at an invitational at Atlee High School...I was in a rush to leave after my race so I could hurry and get ready with my friend Sheryl for a Stake Dance.  While they had every reason to be irritated with me, they were understanding and bought me a new pair after I had exhausted all my resources to locate the mission shoe.  Now that I am a parent, I realize how much love and patience that response must have taken. They are awesome.

Tara and I. I've known her since the first grade. My time flies!

 After our first invitational of the season, Mt. Trashmore (seriously, that's the real name) we hit the beach. My running buddy Shelly and I meandered over to the shops and tried on some hats and swim suit cover-ups for fun.

The girls met over for a Spaghetti dinner slash movie night watching Prefontaine a before a track meet one evening to pump us up. {or just another excuse to spend more time together!}

Once my "running career" was over and I had graduated high school it was bitter sweet. In many ways I was so relieved that the days of constant nervousness were over and that if I wanted to run, I could. I would never have to compete again. But I didn't end on a good note. I always joke with Kyle and my sisters in my very Napoleon Dynamite-Uncle-Rico-esque way: "I woulda taken state had coach let me train for the 800."  Let me explain. During my junior year, I was on fire. I was undefeated in the district up until we ran against the Governor's School.   I was on pace to break the school record, which was conveniently held by the wife of my History teacher. I was looking forward to breaking the news to him in class that his wife's name no longer held the spot for fastest 800 meters.  I LOVED that race. I loved it because it required so much less mental strength than the mile and the two mile. It was almost a sprint. Many have said it's the hardest distance but for me it was the easiest. The first lap you just run fast. The second lap you no longer can feel your legs so you just keep going. And you can keep going. Because it's just one more lap. Not 8 laps like the 2 mile. Not 4 like the mile.

The week of the district meet I got bronchitis. Coach Joe tried to pump me up by telling me the story of when he took Regions in the mile the week he had pneumonia. "It's all in your head, Sheppard," he told me.

That was the problem.

Mentally I am very weak. In fact, it wouldn't have taken much for me to collapse mentally. I don't remember how the race went, but I didn't place like I wanted to and I didn't break Mr. Condon's wife's record. I had already qualified for Regionals with a prior time, so even though I placed poorly in districts, on I went to the Regional track meet.  It didn't go so well, either.

Which brings me to Uncle Rico's turf. Senior Year. Coach Joe sat me down and said he was training me for the mile and 2 mile. I was heart-broken. "I'm not my sister! I'm not Melody!" I protested. My sister had been the 2-mile champion of the school,  and fared well in our district, region and the state in the awful race.  I was very much not my sister, the long-distance Goddess. Then the people-pleaser in me tucked my head down and went ahead and trained for the mile and two mile that spring season.  I could stomach the mile, but it was hard for me to give it my all, when I knew I had the 2-mile to run in less than an hour. I hated the 2-mile so much. 8 LAPS. Ugh.

My senior year was less than awesome and I did have regrets. I let my mind prevent me from doing well and before I knew it, I was kissing senior year goodbye.  I continued to run recreationally to stay in shape.  I found I really, really enjoyed that. No races to get nervous over. Just me and the pavement. I decided I wanted to really accomplish something with my running still. Something hard, but be able to do it on my watch, and not feel pain-- or very much of it.

At 19, I signed up for the St. George Marathon. The year was 2001. I was selected in the lottery and proceeded to "train" the summer leading to the run. That was the summer I met Kyle. I think he thought it was kind of awesome I was training for a marathon. I laugh now, thinking about how ill-prepared I was training. I had no Garmin to track my mileage. I never went on Map my run dot com. I just did it by time. How long I went running and calculated assuming I was running a  10-minute mile. I never once took water or gatorade on my runs. No goos. And my music? My bulky Discman that I left at an unsuspecting Orem Gold's Gym back in 2004 with mix CDs from friends.  Sometimes I even brought my Walkman with my favorite mix tapes on it.  And I ran in the heat.  I remember coming home from a 3-hour run on University Avenue wanting to throw myself in front of a semi because I felt so awful. But it always felt good to report the mileage I had run at the end of the day to Kyle. And he was always so supportive.

Two weeks before the marathon Kyle was in town and we went to play laser tag with some friends on a group date. In my quest to dodge a laser beam I tripped and fell. I limped around for 2 days and finally went to the BYU Health Center where a very kind doctor broke the news to me that I tore my achilles and would not be running in the marathon. He was such a nice doctor. He took me into his office and searched for upcoming marathons that I could feasibly run in once my leg had a chance to heal. Unfortunately the only upcoming one was "Top of Utah" and that one was scheduled before I would have a chance to heal.

So I may have cried.

My awesome roomie, Nicole on her 22nd Birthday in our beloved Courtside Apartment

When I got home to my apartment I broke the news to my roomies. They were all very sweet about it.  Nicole set up the card table outside on our balcony where we ate dinner alfresco, in an effort to lift my spirits.

In 2007(?) I signed up for the Richmond Marathon. After years of haphazardly running here and there, I thought it was high time I cross this thing off my list. I was living in Chicago at the time and thought how FUN it would be to run it with my darling high school cross country friend, Jessica. Savvy was just an infant which translate to: I had some post-baby softness I wanted to firm up.  Plus, Richmond has is known for being the world's "friendliest marathon."  Friendly is good. So I trained along the Prairie Path by my home. By this time I had upgraded to an i-Pod thanks to my husband but I still had never downloaded i-Tunes on my computer so I just used Kyle's music. I wasn't a huge fan of most of the tunes, but I never took the time to make my own play list. Kyle had purchased a Garmin watch from a returned goods sale at REI, but it was bulky and hurt my wrist to wear. I still didn't run with water or gatorade. Come to think of it, I was pretty dumb to run by myself down the Prairie Path. It got kind of creepy some times. One day I was out for a 10-miler and it was a few weeks shy of the marathon. I got this awful pain in my knee and ended up having to walk home 5 miles.

I went to a sports medicine doctor who diagnosed me with ilio-tibial syndrome. He showed me some exercises and things I could do to help it, as well as a very strict icing regime. Running on it wouldn't make it worse, it would just be painful.

Those who know me well can attest to my childishly low tolerance for pain.

I tried my best to stay on top of the icing and Advil and stretching....but the reality was I couldn't run when it was painful.  It was not pleasant.

So I gracefully bowed out of Marathon #2.  I was bummed I had to call Jessica and tell her I wouldn't be running with her. She went on to run it and did really, really well.


Jessica and I before the District Cross Country Meet at Deep Run Park Senior Year. We were sporting our Pocahonatas inspired warrior cheek-stripes. Definitely made us run faster!

In 2009 I tried again. This was going to be my year!  I was planning on running the Ogden Marathon with my big sister. Well, we would be running in the same race, but she would be about an hour ahead of me.  I began training in Idaho and I will be honest. I got a little behind on my training schedule, and as a result, went on a much longer run than my body was ready for. And back came ilio=tibial syndrome.  I couldn't bear the pain so I let it heal and trained instead for the Ogden Half Marathon.

It was a great race and I felt good the entire time. While it was my first  half marathon "race" that I had ever completed, it wasn't the first time I had run 13.1 miles. So it didn't feel important, you know? I still really wanted to do something "harder" that would stretch me physically and mentally that I had never done before.

After moving to Utah, I reconnected with my book club friend Sarah who lived just minutes from our rental and began running with her group of gal pals in the mornings. We trained for and ran in the Provo Halloween Half Marathon together which was a blast. It was very reminiscent of the high school days. I had forgotten how nice it was to have a girlfriend to chat with on morning runs-- they were so much more enjoyable! In December we moved out of our rental and into our new home. I found myself expecting babe #3, so the running was put to rest for a season.

After Ruby was born I had much needed bunion surgery on both feet. The recovery was long, bless my family's heart!  I was quite the lump for months. I was itching to be active again, but even walking was a task for many, many weeks. Once Ruby was nearly a year old, my feet were finally back to "normal." It was time. Time to run.  So I ran from time to time, but was never really regular or committed. Kyle was always great about encouraging me to go out, but it was something I needed to decide for myself, and if he mentioned "You should go for a run," I mentally reverted to a teenager and instantly would decide I didn't want to run, if simply because it was suggested by him and not my own idea on my own watch.

Then one day in the early fall it hit me. I was 29 years old. 30 was on the horizon and what had I done in my lifetime? What had I accomplished? I really wanted to cross something incredible off my bucket list.  Many have responded to that,"You have 3 kids! You're married! That's an accomplishment!"  I don't want to discredit those events by any means. My family IS my world to me and they are my everything. Parenting IS hard, the hardest job I've ever had in my life. Marrying a fantastic guy is an accomplishment.  Even still I have a hard time articulating why I wanted to feel more accomplished. I suppose when I had envisioned myself at 30, I envisioned someone more than who I was at this point. In my mind at 30 I was a great wife, patient mother, active and involved community member who had her act together. Not unrealistically by any means. I didn't have some crazy vision of perfection. I just envisioned myself having mastered things that I still struggle with, even sometimes on a daily basis.  I needed to set a difficult goal and achieve it. Just to prove to myself I could accomplish something hard. I needed to be reminded that I could do hard things again. It's so easy for me to get caught up in the day-to-day to-do lists and I think I needed to know that inside me there was some untapped source of awesomeness that was just waiting to be awoken.

It soon hit me crystal clear: This was the year I needed to do the marathon. So at book club I recruited my friend Liz to run with me in the mornings. That was the best thing I ever did. She really helped get me going and running consistently. By Christmastime Liz was pregnant and puking, so I had to say goodbye to my mornings with her. But I was off to a great start. Not to mention, Kyle had purchased another, more awesome Garmin watch that was lightweight and hi-tech {also purchased at a returned-goods sale at REI for pennies on the dollar}.  I lived very close to the Provo River Trail, which was beautiful training grounds. I signed up for the Ogden Marathon and printed out my training schedule and was off to a great start.

I kid you not when I say there was Divine help in my marathon training process. Every single long run was completed in beautiful weather. I never had to battle with myself if I was going to run or not because of the weather. Remember, I was training in the winter, snow and ice of Utah. There was supposed to be ice on the trail and freezing rain at my face.  There was not. It was the most mild winter I have ever experienced out here. I don't care that some blame global warming or El Nino's great grandchild on our out-of-character whether. God was smiling down on me and knew I needed some sunshine in order to make this thing happen.

I went to the running store by my home to pick out some new running shoes. A really helpful associate took the time to help me decide the best size and shoe. He encouraged me to be prepared to race the marathon in the Saucony Fastwitch shoe, a size and a half bigger than I normally wore. The shoe was lightweight and far from the clonky, uberly support-heavy shoes I was accustomed to running and training for a marathon in. I was nervous about the size, but he explained to me how my foot was supposed to feel in the shoe and gave me the visual in my mind.  I compromised and bought both the Fastwitch and my running pillows. It wasn't long before I was preferring the light-weight shoes-- something I never thought possible.

Kyle remained ever-supportive of me the entire time. The most sweet gesture I thought was when he purchased me a hand-held mini bottle of mace I could take running with me when I was alone. And it was pink. Yeah, super sweet. Each run he was always happily willing to take over the kids and home while I was gone. Even if it meant I'd be gone for 2.5 hours.  The Garmin was fantastic. My tunes, however left much to be desired.  I was kind of sick of my Ogden Half Marathon mix of tunes as it had been a few years. So I finally branched out and did what Kyle has been telling me to do for years and set up an i-Tunes account.  Once I got started I laughed at myself for why it took me so long to do that. I asked my friend Mary, who has similar taste in music but far more "into" the music scene than I, if she would compile a playlist for me. Wow, did the girl deliver!  4 hours of music over the course of a few weeks was received and I was a happy runner.

Once Kyle left for the pest control summer, it didn't take long for me to realize how much I had taken him for granted. All those runs I did just by saying, "See ya, Sweetie ! I'll be back in a while!" Now every single time I wanted to run I had to make sure I had someone home with the kids. That was kind of frustrating. It consumed me--- always worrying every day if this was the day I would run, or if I needed to wait until tomorrow if I couldn't find a sitter.  Then my angel-sister Rebecca called and said she was giving me Fridays. She would come over and watch the kids so I could go on my run and do any errands I needed to. How sweet!  Her gesture was so timely because THAT was the week I needed to do my big twenty-miler.

The twenty-miler is EVERYTHING to a marathoner. Well, at least it was to me. It was going to be so tell-tale of how the marathon would go. It would prove to myself whether or not I had trained well.  It would be as close as I could possibly get of feeling what the "real thing" would be like.  Having the stress of who would watch my kids for such a long run was relieved, and that was HUGE.  Rebecca showed up with Bailey and the pack and play and said to take as long as I needed, she was in no rush to go anywhere.

Armed with Goo, my cute little pink mace, Mary's playlist on my Shuffle, a new waist band with water bottles attached, and Melody's Garmin (I misplaced mine, oops! thank heaven's she had two!) I was off.
I chuckled to myself thinking how much more prepared I was for a long run than the girl who trained for a marathon 10 years ago.

The run was incredible. No pit stops necessary. At one point I realized I still had to go 1.25 more miles before I could consider it "half-way" and turn around and run back home. The only way I could go was up. So up I ran for 1.25 miles. I didn't stop. I didn't even want to die. It was incredible. I just kept hitting repeat on this song, which for some reason, fueled me and kept me going.  It's not an upbeat song, but for some reason, I just enjoyed hearing it, over and over until I was done running up the mountain. I finally had a glimpse of what a marathon would feel like and honestly, it didn't even seem that bad. Things were looking up.  If indeed, "Sheppard, it's all in your head," was true, things in my head were looking pretty strong and sunny at long last.