It was all Corinne‘s idea. She sent a message to a few dozen Delta Zeta sorority sisters, asking if we wanted to have a reunion at the Ragnar Trail weekend at Anne Springs Close Greenway in Fort Mill. Ragnar Trail is a 131.2 mile relay race that you run in teams. We could get a few teams together and just make an amazing weekend out of it, running and catching up with each other, Corinne said.

I have ALWAYS said no to relays. I am a horrible sleeper, I hate sleeping in vans, the idea of running in the middle of the night pretty much alone with nothing to keep me company but wild animals … no, thank you. But this relay was different: no vans, instead we get to camp. And the idea of seeing so many of my college friends I haven’t seen in so long was magical! Without even thinking about my other fears, including the fact that I’m a horrible klutz and trail running has never been for me … I was an absolute YES.

Many others did not share my sentiment, though, one by one saying no (or in some cases, HELL no). In the end, there were four of us: Corinne, Anne, Jessica and me. A team is 8 members. We had a choice to make — we could invite other non DZ friends or we could be an ultra team. Of course, we went the hard route.

A chance meeting of Christy Siebert at Aubrey Turner‘s Divine Barrel Brewing yoga class was a meeting of fate. Christy had just moved to the area from California a day or so before.

Not only did Christy and I become fast friends, but we bonded over the fact that we were both DZs (from different schools).

I told her about our race and instead of saying “Are you crazy?!” like 99 percent of the rest of the world did, she said “Omg that sounds like so much fun; do you need runners?” Alas, we did not, as our ultra team was already set.

As time went on, I got more and more nervous about what I’d agreed to. June and July were great – I ran a lot with my sister at the beach in June. In July, I did a workout challenge with Quinn, where I steadily increased my mileage. In August and September, however, I did not run much, between the hot summer and other commitments (other workouts, work, traveling). I have not run often on trails and I am far, far from trail-run trained. I’m slow on trails, I’m scared of getting hurt, I’m not one of those people that can hop from tree root to tree root with grace or speed. My team assured me that it was all about having fun and doing our best, with no pressure of a speedy time.

The weeks before the race were exciting, interesting and not-at-all running focused. We had breaking news: I was covering Hurricane Florence for a publication I write for, so work was insane. I even caught a cold about a week before the race, which hindered my energy levels and killed many of my planned workouts in the days leading up.

And then, the week of the race, Jessica sent us a frantic message that Monday morning: “Hey ladies, I have some horrible news …” She’d had a mountain biking accident and had stitches in her leg and could barely walk. It was devastating to hear for our bonding time with our old friend, and we had to think quickly about who we knew that would a) be interested and b) be ready to run 32.8 miles with no training. I knew just the person — and the fact that she was a DZ just made it all the more perfect.

Christy gave an enthusiastic yes, followed by a “What is this I’ve agreed to?” followed by a Facebook post in which she announced that she’d committed to running 16.4 miles … I had to break the news to her that she’d actually committed to twice that.

Race weekend

Ready or not, here we were. Corinne and I headed in on Thursday night to set up camp and enjoy the moments before the race began. I surprisingly slept very well that night (thank you, CBD oil) and woke up happy, ready to run and even more ready to enjoy our time together. I had found out one of my childhood best friends, Jenny, was running! So we got to spend a lot of time together over the weekend. Anne arrived, we ate breakfast from a food truck (it was delicious) and set up camp and got ready to go. Christy arrived from work just in time to start her run later that day.

The basic premise: Corinne ran 3.25 miles, then I ran 5.6, then Anne ran 7.6, then Christy ran 3.25. Then Corinne ran 5.6, I ran 7.6, Anne ran 3.25 and Christy ran 5.6. Then Corinne ran 7.6, I ran 3.25, Anne ran 5.6 and Christy ran 7.6. If we were a “regular” team, that’s all we would run and four others would run those same distances. But because we were an ultra team, we did it all over again after we finished the first round.

That meant I ran two overnight runs – one around 9:40pm and one around 3am. I ran again at 8am. I got one hour of sleep between one set of runs and I dozed a little between another set. Otherwise, we were all hydrating, foam rolling, changing from sweaty clothes to dry ones, or eating, eating eating. Not to mention, encouraging each other every step of the way.

Running and falling

Personally, I had a fantastic race … for the first 4 miles of my first leg. Then, as I ran on a trail across a field, an invisible root jumped out and slammed into my toes, causing me to fly through the air like a cartoon character and eat dirt. I’ve fallen a couple of times while running, and while it always hurts badly, I always tell myself to just jump up and keep going.

So I did what I always do, but this time was different — I fell right back down immediately, in real pain. I started crying, tears of pain and frustration, and I ripped my water belt and race bib off of my waist — my whole body was in pain. A volunteer rushed over to help me and she called a medic to bring a stretcher. But then she suggested maybe she could help me up and see if I could limp on it, and I agreed to try, and it worked. With two miles left, I knew I could make it to the finish line, even if I had to crawl there.

I texted my teammates to let them know what was happening and got nothing but encouragement back. I managed to walk / jog back where I was promptly sent to the medic upon crossing the finish line. I have to say, that felt a lot like getting sent to the principal’s office! They were wonderful there and kindly cleaned the dirt out of my skinned elbow and sent me on my way.

My second leg, 2.5 miles into my 7.6 mile run, I fell again — on the same knee and same elbow. It hurt so badly to re-skin up the same skinned-up knee and elbow. But this time, I jumped right back up and kept going. I was mad and determined. I got sent back to the medic promptly on my return, bloody and dirty knees and elbow and all.

Leg 3 went fine, but by leg 4, I was icing my knee every chance I got, as the pain had grown to include the back of my leg. Every running step was excruciating. Leg 5 was my slowest, then leg 6 I just powered out everything I had — which wasn’t much, considering I had gone about 30 miles before that leg started, and it was about 90 degrees out. It was hard. Knowing my team was counting on me and knowing we had a deadline to meet (we had to get our last runner on the course by 4pm) is what kept me going. Oh, and I definitely sacrificed some toenails.

The experience

It was amazing. Hundreds of people were camping out, and there was a great energy all around, even in the middle of the night. There was a Ragnar Village, which included a campfire with s’mores, movies playing on the lawn, a recovery area with foam rollers, yoga classes and food trucks. It was as much social as it was a challenge. I got to have major bonding time with my sorority sisters and with Jenny.

We were sweaty, dirty, tired and energized all at the same time. I can only imagine how much fun it would have been if we’d been running half the distance and had more time for the other activities (I missed out on my yoga) — and next year, we will find out! Yes, we are already making plans to expand our team.

At the end of it, we looked at each other and we ran the gambit of emotions. When I crossed my finish line and realized I’d done it, I burst out crying in the transition tent and the workers around me shared in that emotion with me. We were all so amazed at what we did. We crossed that finish line, with half the team members of a normal team, and with all girls. Girl power is needed more than ever these days, and I have to say this one felt so good.

Total run: 32.8 (ish!) miles according to the race course | 34.7 miles according to my Map My Run

Total hours: 30 hours, 56 minutes, 43 seconds

Place: All-female ultra team | second place
(I should mention, there were only two all-female ultra teams!)

I live on an island, known to the natives as NoDa, The Arts District, or North Charlotte (depending on how old-school they are). 

With the recent LYNX Light Rail construction, NoDa has quite literally become a destination retreat, with many access roads closed over the past months or years. There are only a couple of ways in and out of the neighborhood. 

This makes ordering an Uber a certain kind of new challenge, but it also makes my recent latest obsession of cycling even more fun. I don’t use the term obsession lightly. I know myself well enough at this point in my life that I can recognize that with any new hobby, my heart goes all in. 

Cycling, the second time around

This isn’t my first try on a bike, but I’ve learned a little since then. 

I tried to get into cycling years ago, and I just never found that place where I felt safe. I had a road bike, and it always felt so lightweight that I constantly feared getting blown over by a car. I did ok on group rides with my brother and Scott, but I never felt good riding alone. 

I did exactly one triathlon – it was fun, but I didn’t like all the practice rides where the roads were not blocked off. 

After a right hook incident while using a bike lane in the suburbs of Ballantyne, I was done. I did everything right and it was a perfectly wide road with bike lanes and no blind turns or hills, and I still almost got taken out by a driver not paying attention. I saw them coming out of my peripheral, making a right turn which would have meant turning into me, so I turned right with the car and avoided a collision. I counted myself lucky. I’m not sure the driver ever even noticed what happened. 

After that, I sold my road bike and decided I really just needed a cruiser-style ride. A few years went by, and I didn’t think about cycling too much at all, until my neighbor decided to show me his fancy new toy. 

It was a cruiser-style Electra, and I was in love. 

I’d never heard of the brand but I just knew if I had a bike like that, I would take it everywhere with me. 

He let me borrow it one day and we rode on the greenway from our neighborhood to Freedom Park and back, about 15 miles. It felt safe. It felt comfortable. I had to have one of my own.

I drove all my friends nuts with questions about bike seat colors and streamers or no streamers (of course, the answer is always yes to streamers). 

The bikes aren’t expensive (relatively speaking), but our budget is tight right now (RIP willow oak tree, that’s another story). So I spent hours on Craigslist looking for the perfect Electra. After riding a few, I decided I needed a Townie; either 8 or 21 speed would do. 

Pam Murray, famous in the Charlotte cycling community (say that 3 times fast), told me about her bike library and I could ride with her until I was able to afford my own bike. She even let me borrow her husband’s Townie. I rode 3 weeks in a row with the Sunday Slow Riders and we went all over the city. Common Market, Olde Mecklenburg Brewery, VBGB. We took sunset pictures and rang bike bell greetings to pedestrians waving at us from porches. 

Finally, I found a former rental Townie on sale at Bike Line of Charlotte. It’s 8 speeds, purple and it matches my yoga mat. Fenders, baskets and streamers are still on my wish list (for now), but I have wheels. All mine. 

Life on two wheels

I ride to yoga and dinner and ice cream and to buy dog food (one small bag at a time!) I ride on the Rail Trail. I ride to Amelie’s. I ride to my neighbor’s houses and on the greenways. My friends and I are starting a girl bike gang and the requirement will be heart-shaped sunglasses (guys can maybe come too, if they wear the glasses). 

I smile like crazy when I’m on my bike. I wave at other cyclists like we’ve known each other for years (I get equal parts waves back and weird looks). I’ve learned how low my ponytail has to go to get my helmet on (it’s the opposite of how high it has to go to not interfere with shavasana in yoga). 

We meet on Sundays at the B-Cycle stations (24 stations available, and other bike sharing choices are showing up by the minute) so my friends that don’t have bikes can rent them, and we ride to coffee then brunch then breweries or shopping or  whatever else we feel like. 

Life feels spontaneous when I’m out of the car. The first day I had my bike, my neighbor asked me for cold medicine and I was never so happy to have an errand to run.

Several weeks ago, I had a conversation with a construction worker while he held the stop sign up for one-way traffic. I got tickled when he radioed ahead to his colleague: “the first car is actually a pedestrian/bike.” He told me then the Rail Trail in NoDa will be done in a month or two. I’m as excited about that as I am the light rail itself coming to the neighborhood. 

Go ahead, NoDa, be an island for as long as you need. Me and my bike, we got this. 

—

From Goodreads: Dolls: red or black; capsules or tablets; washed down with vodka or swallowed straight—for Anne, Neely, and Jennifer, it doesn’t matter, as long as the pill bottle is within easy reach. These three women become best friends when they are young and struggling in New York City and then climb to the top of the entertainment industry—only to find that there is no place left to go but down—into the Valley of the Dolls.

—

I always judge a book by its cover. It probably doesn’t hurt that I’m a book cover designer by trade.

So when I first picked up Valley of the Dolls by Jacqueline Susann, I have to admit I was a little wary. The light pink cover and 1950s font wasn’t a problem, nor were the cutouts of the capsules (the pills lovingly referred to as “dolls”.) What made me almost put it down was the image beneath the cutout of the 3 women. It was a photograph that looked like it belonged as a press image for a TV show. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it did make me wonder why the book didn’t merit a cover that was, well, more book-like. I was totally off base: it’s not a TV show, it’s a movie. A quite famous movie, apparently, but I’m in the dark. Oops. I’m glad Jenny Arnold gave me this book — if she hadn’t, I never would have bought it and that would have been a shame.

The synopsis on the back cover (also above) also doesn’t help this book’s case — it focuses on 3 women who take pills all the time to cope with life and its troubles. I mean … boring. Cue an “Intervention” episode or something.

Well, in reality, the pills do play a role in a running subplot throughout the narrative, but they are hardly a defining role. More like a temperature check: as the plot heats up, the pills at least warrant a mention or two. Sleeping pills, energy pills, red pills, green pills, yellow pills … they all play their part.

But the true story revolves around 3 women who are trying to make it big time during a “Mad Men” era. There are movie actresses when a time that television was threatening the big screen. A secretary who has no desire to be famous but she has the “face for modeling” – and wealthy suitors to match. There are men who are threatened by the idea of a successful woman, who don’t know how or can’t handle their wives making more than they do.

This book features Hollywood drama off the big screen, and during a time when everyone is stepping over each other clamoring to the top, these women are desperately searching for friendships and connections that are real.

Don’t think this book is all friendship and roses, though. Far from it and that’s what I like about it. Its predictable in the sense that right before a plot twist, the foreshadowing would give me just enough to actually say “nooooo” under my breath, just before I watched it unfold. It was so tense at times that I almost wanted to skip ahead a page or two because I couldn’t stand the suspense (I would never, of course).

I struggled as I approached the end both with the inability to put it down and the desire to not be done with the book. I read it faster than I’ve read a lot of other books lately – and it’s definitely one of the best books I’ve read in a long time. It’s deeper than a beach read, but it’s easy and quick to get through, and you’ll find yourself feeling strongly about many of the characters — loving some, hating others, and wanting to take one or two by the shoulders and shake her till the pills fall out.

Overall, I highly recommend!

For the record, I passed this book along to Stacia Caliano after I was finished, and then she and I watched the movie on Netflix. It was a terrible, terrible movie … but that’s another story.

Rating: 5 stars

Today’s Tortoise and the Hare topic: Favorite route in Charlotte to run

If you’re a long-time reader of my blog or if you’ve known me longer than 5 years, you know how close Mia and I were. If you’ve known me less than 5 years, you probably also know it, to a certain degree at least. So today has been pretty darn tough. I feel like 5 years ago just happened, and I simultaneously can’t believe I’ve been without her for 5 years.

What I do know is that it was the hardest day of my life thus far. There was also no place I’d rather have been. Mia was very healthy until the day that she wasn’t, and so when she lay in that hospital bed at 94 years old, I shouldn’t have been surprised — yet I was.

Just a few days ago we’d been out running errands and she had complained that I bought the wrong size Hershey’s bar (she’d wanted a bigger one).

Just two weeks ago we’d been at South Park Mall, having lunch at Arthur’s Wine Shop (the secret restaurant only old Charlotteans know about), when a younger man (80s?) flirted with her and she flirted back, making sure to throw in a humble brag about her 16 great grandchildren (Is that number right, cousins?).

She was slowing down those past few weeks, and I knew it but I chose not to see it. The reason I’d gotten her the wrong Hershey’s is she’d wanted to wait in the car while we were at CVS; that was highly unusual for her. I had recently been hospitalized after fainting, so I was a bit weak as well. After our day at the mall, we went back to her house and both of us slept for hours, her in her recliner, me on her uncomfortable couch. I have trouble sleeping in uncomfortable places, but that day felt quite right to be next to her. I knew why I wanted to be close; I think even then I was realizing how limited our time together would be, but I didn’t want to admit it to myself. Dad came out from the back bedroom at one point to check on us and said we were two peas in a pod, sleeping away.

—

This is the same woman who was told by her doctors at 91, while getting a pacemaker installed, that she should probably stop mowing the grass. She was pretty unhappy about that and tried to negotiate. “What if I just use the riding mower?”

That same hospital stay, she also decided to play dead in the post-op room and about gave the poor nurse a heart attack. The joke was supposed to be on me, my dad and my aunt, but she was so good at it the nurse didn’t even know she was fooling.

So her needing a nap after a visit to the mall, or not wanting to walk into a CVS, was telling.

—

Fastforward to 5 years ago, and this hospital stay would be much different. As many of us could get there visited throughout the day. She was unresponsive mostly, but she squeezed my hand when I talked to her and I knew she could hear me. Once I even asked her if she wanted to go to the mall, just to see if I could get her attention, and she opened her eyes just to roll them at me. She was still in there.

—

My brother, Kevin, and I left in the afternoon to give my dad, aunt and uncle some time with her. Kevin and I went to swim laps to try to clear our heads, then we went back to my house, unsure of what to do next. My dad called to say the doctors didn’t think she would make it through the night. So Kevin and I loaded up the car with pillows and blankets and headed back to the hospital – we didn’t want my aunt, Josie, who was on night duty, to have to do this alone.

She cried when she saw us and thanked us for being there, and the nurses thanked us for being there, and they brought in another recliner for my brother, and the room was so small there wasn’t room for a third recliner, but that was ok because I just wanted to be as close to Mia as I could. So I crawled in bed next to her, being careful not to hurt or jostle her in any way. I put my head beside her feet and I placed my leg right beside her so she could feel that I was there.

—

And then we talked. All night, the 3 of us stayed awake and we talked and shared Mia stories. We talked loudly, as Mia was hard of hearing and we wanted to make sure she could hear every word. We laughed and we cried and Mia was right there beside us, resting comfortably.

I told the story about the time Mia was in rehab for her pacemaker for a week, and I stayed with her, and at one point she turned to me and said, “You know, we could sneak out of here, go see a movie, and then get our toes done …”

Josie told the story about her doing a U-turn in the middle of the interstate in Iowa and getting pulled over for it. She got out of the ticket by claiming that “In South Carolina we do that all the time!”

We talked about the time she explained kegal exercises to the entire family. The time she panicked because the news was reporting on the epidemic of “texting and driving” (She looked at me, open mouthed, and said “That’s TERRIBLE! … What’s texting?”). The stories went on, hours and hours of them.

—

And then, eventually, we all drifted off to sleep. And it was then that Mia decided to let go.

The nurse told us she was probably waiting for us to sleep before she died.

She also told us it was one of the most peaceful goodbyes she’d ever seen.

—

Dad and Mom came up to the hospital. We all cried together, then when it was time, we went back to her house and sat on the porch with coffee, watching the sun rise over the lake and wondering how we were going to go on without her.

—

Five years later, and I still wonder that some days. The truth is, we aren’t going on without her. She is in so much of what I do. Birds play in her bird bath in my back yard. When I weed the garden, I do it correctly because she showed me how when I was a kid. I think of her every time I sit down to work on a puzzle; that was something we did together. Her stories are told – frequently, and always with laughter. I think I got part of my personality from her. All of her grandkids would likely — proudly — say the same.

I curse Facebook memories but I also am so thankful that I got to have those last moments with her. As hard as they were, they were so special. Josie, Kevin and I have a special bond over that night – we text each other every year, grateful for each other, grateful that we had that moment together.

This morning I drank my coffee beside a puzzle for a few moments before getting to work. Tonight I think I’ll drive my car, Mildred (named after her), down to South Park Mall and I’ll have dinner at Arthur’s. If a younger man starts flirting with me, I’ll throw in a humble brag about my 17 nieces and nephews.

Mia-style.

—

Driving to meet Quinn to run today, I had the radio tuned to NPR where the talk centered around the Stanford case, rape on campus, and our roles as community members to protect each other. I certainly was listening, thinking back to my own college days, thinking about how we as humans look out for each other (or, should).

It seemed interesting timing for me to hear that radio show. I didn’t realize that just a few moments later, Quinn and I would be those community members for someone.

—

We set out on our regular run route along the light rail in Southend Charlotte. It’s a safe area.

So, when we got to the light rail turnaround point 1.5 miles in, I didn’t think much of it when Quinn decided to tempo run her way back to the end. I waved her on and told her I’d meet her at the end. A mile later, just as I was giving myself the final push to finish up strong, my phone rang.

I always send calls to voicemail but when I saw it was Quinn calling me, my alarm bells went off. She of all people wouldn’t be calling me NOW unless something was going on.

I answered the phone just to hear her say “Be careful at the light rail stop by the water fountain. I just saw a man hurt a woman there.”

That’s precisely the area I was coming up on. “Ok, I told her, I’ll be careful and I’ll cross to the other side [of the light rail].” She got off the phone to call our police friend to see what we should do.

I kept running, approaching cautiously, and I didn’t see anyone on “our” side of the light rail. I did, however, see a man with a backpack on the other side. I hesitated to cross, thinking what if that man is the one she warned me about and the girl had already left? I kicked myself for not having asked for a physical description.

Since the side I was running on seemed to be empty, I thought maybe the entire group had left so I would just power through. Although, as I came up on one of the benches in front of the light rail, I realized I had made a mistake in not crossing. A man, flanked by two women wearing identical outfits, sat on the bench and gave me a death stare as I ran by. Given the expression on his face, I knew it had to be the people Quinn was talking about. Very chilling.

I ran as quickly as I could to find her; our police friend didn’t answer and another one told us to call 911, so we did. They said they were sending someone out there to check it out.

I fear that it may be a case of domestic violence, in which case, maybe the woman won’t press charges and there’s nothing that can be done. But Quinn saw him grab her arm and twist it behind her, and then he threw a rock at her. So maybe the police showing up is just what she needs.

Either way, it took me back to that radio program and of our roles as humans to be good champions for each other. I feel for that woman on the light rail and on Stanford’s campus. I feel for the woman who was raped at 2am on Montford Drive in Charlotte last week, and my heart goes out to her as people ask “What was she doing walking alone at 2am?” instead of asking “What was he doing raping her?”

The world is a scary place; let’s look out for each other.