Even though race day wasn’t until Sunday, the hubs and I made our way down to Indy on Saturday afternoon for the Dials’ 7th Annual Indy 500 Pre-Party. I had the privilege of hanging out with some of the [...]]]> As referenced by the title, this weekend was pure awesomesauce. Let’s break it down.

Even though race day wasn’t until Sunday, the hubs and I made our way down to Indy on Saturday afternoon for the Dials’ 7th Annual Indy 500 Pre-Party. I had the privilege of hanging out with some of the best people of Indiana, with whom I enjoyed beers, smoked pork, and corn hole. We all bitched incessantly about the heat, which was holding strong in the 90′s for a good majority of the night. We played Call Me Maybe on repeat. We learned the official dance of Party Rock Anthem, courtesy of Lucas Feller. And I participated in my first driver draft, picking Ed Carpenter as the man who would (hopefully) take home the grand prize. Ah the fun. Hard to put into words.

Somehow the night ended without too much insanity, and we awoke bright eyed and bushy tailed at 730 the following morning. Race day was here!!! Though I was beyond excited for what was to come, I couldn’t help but worry about the weather. Temps were predicted to be record-breaking, with “feels like” temperatures exceeding 100 degrees near the track. Oof. I had done my best to stay hydrated in the days prior, so I knew as long as I stayed somewhat responsible, I’d be fine. Unfortunately, the morning started off with bloody mary’s and mimosas, thwarting my “responsible” plans from the get-go

At 930a, the pack of 30 and their beverages of choice piled up in their respective vehicles and took off towards Indianapolis Motor Speedway!

Quick stop at Marsh for ice!

Brief stroll through some “shady” neighborhoods to the tunes of Eminem.

After some very skilled navigating, we found a beautiful parking spot on a vacant lot (aka front yard) somewhere off of 16th street. We lathered up with sunscreen, packed up our coolers on the little red wagon, and set off on our ~ 1 mile walk to IMS. It wasn’t long before we saw what all the hype was about. Let the people watching commence; starting with one of our very own

The energy walking into IMS was palpable. The number of people was unreal. And the heat was insane. We immediately sought out some shade and a misty fan while a portion of the group bought their first round of track dogs.

So I had originally thought we would be in the true infield, like we were at the Kentucky Derby a few years prior. Full on grassy knolls and debauchery galore. However, even though we were still technically in the infield, we had a lovely little section of bleachers just at the end of pit row. Talk about an unanticipated surprise! Believe me when I say these seats were amazing. Even with lumbar support! Thanks Megs!

There were lots of opening festivities. First laps around the track. Fly overs. Taking pictures of Guy Fieri, 2012 pace car driver. It was fun.

However, the best yet worst part of the day was, hands down, the Dan Wheldon tribute. This past October, the 2011 Indy 500 champion died from injuries shortly after a collision at the IndyCar World Championships. He was 33. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house after watching his video memorial on the big screen. We all felt connected by tragedy as we watched his winning orange and white William Rast car make a lap around the track. Gut wrenching.

We wiped our tears just in time to hear God Bless America as sung by Mrs. Brady (aka. Florence Henderson) and the National Anthem by Martina McBride. And then came those famous words,,

“Ladies & Gentlemen, start your engines!!”

If ever I was in sensory overload, it was right then and there. The speed. The sound. The innate feeling of danger due to the proximity of the cars. The overall exhilaration. The hubs and I were 100% stunned from the sound of the gun to the waving of the checkered flag. We kept looking at each other in awe. It’s one of those things you just can’t explain unless you’re there experiencing it first hand. Trust me, I have never been a big race car fan. But from that moment on, I was a convert.

In between our exasperation, we drank beers. Then water. Then more beers. We took trips to the concessions in search of track dogs. We sweat more than we thought possible. We applied lots of sunscreen, yet still came out with rednecks (no surprise). We watched our friends go to The Snake Pit and return in slightly compromised conditions It was out of control, in the best kind of way.

CT and I kissing the bricks!

The end of the race was exciting. My driver, Ed (aka. Fuzzy), made a last minute surge to the front of the pack, only to spin out and blow my chances of a $300+ win. Slightly less than his total race day earnings, I’m sure. But still a bummer. And all the while I couldn’t believe how much I found myself getting into the racing atmosphere. I suppose the fact that there was a BMC car helped. I know, right??!

Franchitti edged out the win after a last lap failed pass attempt by Sato. Slightly lackluster IMO, but still a good effort by all.

Trust me, a sad finish did not ruin our day in any way shape or form.

It was a bit of a brutal walk back to the car combining the heat and the idling cars waiting in traffic, but we made it in one piece. And thanks to more impressive driving by the man in neon, we made it back to the Dials residence in record time. I’m sure the karaoke session was helpful in moving things in the right direction!

The hubs and I made every effort to hang tough and rally for what was bound to be another fun night ahead. But the sun (and beer) beat the snot out of us, so we opted to make the trip back home for some much needed showers. And true to form, we were both passed out by 9p. All in all, a successful day

I can’t even tell you how much fun I had at my first 500. Record-setting heat. Inexplicable energy. And one of the best times I’ve had since moving to Indiana. I literally cannot wait for next year already.

Reason #1 – It’s a holiday!

Memorial Day: A celebration in honor of those who have fought for their country. Also, an excuse for 3 glorious days off of work. And a little prelude to [...]]]> I’m a little excited about this weekend. I’ll give you three reasons why. Dim the lights, here we go!

Reason #1 – It’s a holiday!

Memorial Day: A celebration in honor of those who have fought for their country. Also, an excuse for 3 glorious days off of work. And a little prelude to summer and my upcoming 11 day vacay in June. I’ll take it.

Reason #2 – We’ve got a hot one!

You may have heard about the record breaking heat that’s made its way to the Midwest this weekend. Perfect timing, Mother Nature! Now if only I had a lake and a raft, I’d be satisfied. Instead I’ve got land and exhaust (see below).

Reason #3 – My first Indianapolis 500!

You would think that my husband would’ve been a regular at the race track being an Indiana boy. In actuality, he’s never been. So when my friend Meggie informed us that she had a “section” and a slew of tickets, we were all in! I’ve been told that it’s loud. It’s hot. And there’s more than enough topless, drunken jorts-wearing people-watching. Having been to the Kentucky Derby, I’d like to think that I’m prepared for what’s ahead. But if you add #1 plus #2 ~~> #3 is bound to be a ridonkulous display. And I can’t wait

The infield

Yard of Bricks

D.Wheldon

Will recap for y’all once all is said and done! Prayers I make it out in one un-fried piece!

Happy Weekend!!

[Picture source]

For as long as I can remember, high school was a dress rehearsal for medical school. I [...]]]> So I realized it would be extremely silly for nurses week to go by without a single post about it on Nurse with a Purse. So here’s how I came to be a nurse, in a nutshell

For as long as I can remember, high school was a dress rehearsal for medical school. I didn’t know what kind of doctor I wanted to be (though a pediatrician sounded fun), but I knew a doctor was what I wanted to become. There was never a question. However, when junior year rolled around and college tours began, things started to shift. The turning point was during one of my first school visits. While at University of Michigan – Flint (I should stop right there ) with my parents and our neighbor, I had the opportunity to sit in on a med professor giving a lecture. To put it lightly, I was terrified. I left that lecture hall with a pit in my stomach. From then on out, I wasn’t sure I had what it took. So I started throwing out other options. At one point, nursing came up. And to say I picked that idea up and ran with it would be an understatement.

I woke up one day and decided I wanted to go to Michigan State University. And so I did. They had a reputable nursing program and I knew I’d be in good shape with an MSU degree. I’ll never forget orientation weekend, walking down the sidewalk with my Dad, and how excited he was for me and my new adventure. Nursing was the profession of never-ending options. The second I got bored with one area, I could move on to the next. What a grand concept for an indecisive girl such as myself!

I was accepted into nursing school the summer after my first year at State. 1 out of 80 people. I was ecstatic to receive that letter. I definitely didn’t want to rethink my major anymore. This was it. As of fall 2001, nursing was life. I took to my physical assessment books like a champ. I had my first clinical rotation ~ in a green polo shirt and white pants (yeah, you nursing students nowadays have it SO much better – scrubs!? I only wish). My first patient was an 80-something lady with subcutaneous emphysema. It took an army to get me into that room. What do I say? What do I do? What if I don’t do my assessment right? Come to find out, patient care was the least of my worries. When it came to the death of nursing school, it can be summed up in two words: care plans. Hours upon hours upon hours of looking up meds and diagnoses and blah, blabbidy blah stuff. Pure torture. I somehow made it through all the book work, clinicals, and exams, and in May 2004, I walked away with this gem.

Briana Moceri, RN-BSN!

My first post-college job was at William Beaumont Hospital on the orthopaedic unit. [Side note: This, my friends, is where I would later meet my orthopaedic intern/ soon to be husband. So very Grey's Anatomy ] I learned so much on 9 North/ 9 South. I was a full time afternoon shifter, 3-1130p. I took care of up to 6 patients per shift, which included doing multiple physical assessments, passing medications, and ambulating postoperative ortho patients. Calling doctors. Dealing with uncontrolled pain. It was a grueling, yet rewarding job. I met so many fabulous people, many of whom I’m still in touch with today.

Obviously still in touch with this guy.

After less than a year of staff nursing, I put in my application for nurse practitioner school at Oakland University. Once I decided to become a nurse, becoming an NP was the natural trajectory for me. It comes as no surprise that I didn’t want to “wipe ass” for the rest of my life So no time was wasted on achieving my goal. I started NP school in the fall of 2005. I eventually dropped down to part-time 12-hour days on 9 South in order to get my necessary school work complete, bi-weekly clinical rotations included. NP school was basically a ramped up version of nursing school. And honestly, I found it much easier the second time around. Not to say it was easy whatsoever, just topics that were less “new.” The focus was also different, as being an NP is more of a provider role, as opposed to the supportive role of an RN. I was now in charge of diagnosing and treating, where as an RN I was more or less in charge of following directions. I did rotations in internal medicine, pediatrics, and OB/GYN. 3 years later, with my cap, gown, & golden hood, I received my Master’s degree as a Family Nurse Practitioner.

Baba, Grandpa & I pre-ceremony

2008 Family Nurse Practitioners!

Since becoming an NP, I’ve dabbled in many different specialties: orthopaedic spines and joints, retail health care (aka “doc-in-a-box”), and my most recent role as a Hospitalist. It’s amazing though. The fear I had on the first day of nursing school has morphed into a completely different monster. Sure I still worry about saying the right things and relaying the right messages to patients and families. But now I am weighed with the responsibility of diagnosing and treating. A much heavier burden. There are extremely high standards in healthcare nowadays, and fortunately/unfortunately those won’t go away. However, with all that responsibility comes satisfaction. I am now responsible for making people well. For keeping them informed. For changing their day. And if bringing out a smile in a terribly sick patient is all I can do, then that’s what I’ll do. But that won’t stop me from trying day after day. I love making a difference.

Every time I’m asked if I’m happy I became an NP, the answer is always a resounding YES. I continue to say that I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, even though at the age of 30 you would think I’d have an idea. But that’s the beauty of nursing. The sky is the limit. And for now I’m content. And I couldn’t be happier with the path I have chosen.

So do me a favor and hug a nurse this week. They’re a special breed. And they deserve to be recognized.

And clearly I can’t end this segment without a little humor Happy Nurses Week!!

After my decision not to run the Carmel Marathon, I made an appointment to see an orthopedic surgeon for some sort of diagnosis or direction. After xrays and some poking and prodding, I was told that [...]]]> So it’s been awhile since y’all have had an update, so I shall start from the beginning.

After my decision not to run the Carmel Marathon, I made an appointment to see an orthopedic surgeon for some sort of diagnosis or direction. After xrays and some poking and prodding, I was told that there were no bony problems (yay!), but what I was most likely dealing with was a piriformis/ gluteal strain (boo). No drugs, no need for surgery, but he did tell me that not running was my best option and that physical therapy would be of some help. So after a teeny tiny bit of pouting but tons of determination, I set myself up for my first PT eval the following week. My (physical) therapist, Bob, has been fabulous from the moment we met. In so many words, he told me that I’m a “last minute” pronator, which has caused some tightness in my TFL, which, with high-mileage marathon training, has finally led to some strain. That first session, he popped my hips back into place after noticing some leg length inequality (ouch), did some maaaaajor stretching to see where the pain was at (ouch), and proceeded with a little something called ASTYM. ASTYM is essentially breaking down the scar tissue to allow regeneration of tissues/ ligaments/ muscles so that I will run a little more “properly” and pain free. Think of it as a mini foam rolling session, only with cocoa butter and a small plastic torture device. Hurts. So. Good. I have bruises to prove it.

After my first session, Bob told me that as long as I wasn’t in terrible pain, that running on flat surfaces should be just fine. So I took his advice and went for a test run on the Greenway last Sunday. Though I could tell the hip issue was still there, it was much quieter than on previous runs. So at a steady pace I ran, taking as many walk breaks as needed, and finished off with 4.4 satisfying miles in 44 satisfying minutes. To say I was happy would be an understatement. Me minus running equals a grumpasaurus.

I continued to take things easy, but after a few more painless runs during the week, I decided that I was going to give this weekend’s Mini Marathon a go. I knew good and well that I could be miserable, but I also knew that I could push through the pain. And after this weekend, I knew I’d have plenty of time to rest before my next running engagement (Ragnar!).

Dad and I signed up for this race together at the end of last year. Little did we know that we’d both be cripples come race day. After his PR in Chicago a month ago, his knee has been acting up. Swelling, discomfort, etc. He also went to an orthopod, who sent him for an MRI on Monday with the thought that he may have a meniscal tear. His doc called him the next day to tell him that there weren’t any tears, but he did have a small effusion that he needed to monitor. Since hardheadedness runs in the Moceri family, we decided, ah what the hell ~ let’s run 13.1 this weekend

The hubs and I swung by the Mini Marathon Expo on Thursday while taking care of some business downtown. I think we spent more time parking and walking to and from the Convention Center then we did actually inside. But I was so happy to get our packets and not have to make three trips downtown like last year.

The rents arrived on Friday night and we endulged in some pre-race pasta while storms rolled through Muncie. I was hoping some of the rain would wash away the projected heat/ humidity, but more on that later. We did some brief strategizing, but decided that our main goal was just to finish the race upright. Though a 2-hour finish would be alright if the stars happened to align

The zipper pocket: not so much appropriate for wallet-holding!

Our alarms went off at 445 Saturday morning and we sluggishly got ourselves geared up. My Weather Channel app said the rain was heading south of Indy, but the humidity was already about 97% with temps in the 70s. Ugh. After slamming some oatmeal n’ PB and grabbing my fuel belt, we were on the road downtown by 530a.

With nearly 40,000 runners, the energy during Mini Marathon weekend is always nothing short of amazing. Like cattle, we crawled up to the corral where the Perfect Strangers were meeting pre-race. I had gotten some texts from Meggie saying her, Karen and Christi were stuck in traffic and were going to be a few minutes late. As we approached letter E, I literally stumbled into Jaime, Kelly and Meghan. Those turquoise #perfectstranger tank tops are hard to miss As the announcers were already telling everyone to get in their corrals by 7a, we snapped a few quick pics before heading our separate ways.

B, Kelly, & Jaime

Red hat = Ready to run!

Back in corral K, Dad and I tried our best to suppress our pre-race jitters. After some more discussion, we decided that we would try to run as much as possible over the next couple of hours, as starting and stopping can be just as painful on already sore joints. After applying Breathe Right strips, watching a few fireworks and listening to the national anthem, we set off on our 4th half marathon as a duo.

Ahhh, he can breathe!

As soon as we took off, the soupiness of the air was more than palpable. Ugh, it was THICK. I was very happy I brought my fuel belt so we wouldn’t have to battle the masses at every water stop. Within the first mile, while running past the Indianapolis Zoo, we passed a HUGE elephant who was watching quietly from the sidelines. So cool.

Dad and I started off strong. Our first couple miles were at a fast pace (for us) – 9:11/ 9:16/ 9:10/ 9:22. We passed belly dancers, cloggers, and a couple PITAREAS. Around mile 4, we saw Meghan, Jake, et. al. on the other side of the median. “FREEMAN!” I yelled. We commiserated about the conditions for a few minutes before we took off ahead. Dad was cruising at this point, and I didn’t want to hold him back

We decided to “gel up” about three times throughout the race. Just before we headed into Indianapolis Motor Speedway (IMS), we took down gel numero uno. Again, so glad I had my fuel belt with me so I always had water accessible. The “Yard of Bricks” is cool to start, but as time goes on, the monotony gets old. And the beating sun/ humidity did not help one bit. We held our own for miles 6-8 (9:48/ 10:06/ 9:55), but mile 9 just wasn’t happening. Dad’s upper back was cramping for some reason and he told me he needed to walk for a bit. So we did, logging an 11:17 mile, picking things up just before heading out of the Speedway.

Miles 10-12 were slow and steady but VERY hot and humid. The sun was relentless. And Dad’s knee was hurting. Fortunately, my hips were eerily quiet. We were walking through every water stop, which we had been doing all along, but the last few were a little longer than those past. Our splits were reflective of our misery, but still consistent (10:07/ 10:34/ 10:18). Possibly the best part of the race was at mile 11.5. Kelly had informed us that her friend, Brenna was going to be out on the corner with a PS poster and a bag of ice cubes. All my focus was geared towards finding this girl. And sure enough, as we made the turn onto White River, there she was. “Perfect Strangers!” I screamed. And Dad and I trotted over to grab a handful of the cold cubes. One in front, one in the mouth. I didn’t care how many hands had been in that bag already.

As we approached the final stretch, I looked at Dad, gave him a fist bump, and said “let’s do this.” We opened things up and pushed as hard as we could, weaving in and out of everyone in our path. I could tell Dad was not feeling great, and people around us were literally dropping like flies. We saw IV bags, EMTs, and even a person being hooked up to a defibrillator. Definitely not a race for the weak. But we prevailed. And in that last 800m, we locked arms and crossed the finish line together.

High W at the finish line!

Official times, 2:10:44 and 2:10:45 (Dad FTW )

As we approached the medal hander outers, no one seemed to want to place one around my neck! I finally made eye contact with a nice-looking boy and said, “Can I have my medal please?!” He said, “Of course you can! Congrats Briana!” For the love.

Mom and Nick met up with us as soon as we started making our way through the food area. After getting our official post-race pic, we moseyed on into the post-race party in Military Park. We met up with the rest of the Perfect Strangers on the grassy knoll, who were already 1 beer deep. Dad and I got our bevs and the laughter/ picture taking ensued

Cheers!

Dad & Mom

The PS Mini Crew (minus Karen)

Hubs Love

Then this happened.

It's hard to tell, but I used to be a cheerleader.

After a bit more celebrating, we took off in search of food. Dad & I enjoyed a nice Roxy ride successful in wiping away some of our swass. We found ourselves at Scotty’s Brewhouse where we partook in the bloody mary bar and heaps of dill chips. Mom and I made another stop at Gigi’s Cupcakes to pick up some sweet treats for later. The rest of the day consisted of napping, drinking, and eating. A perfect Cinco de Mayo.

I’m so proud of Dad and I for knocking out yet another race, especially in the horrid weather and the physical conditions he and I were in. And I’m happy to say: my hip feels fantastic! Dad’s knee on the other hand is not in tip top shape, but as noted above, we have quite a bit of time before our next run. I’m so grateful for every race we can run together. And as long as we can, we will.

Bring on #5

With love,
Your girls

Many months ago I [...]]]> If you would’ve asked me 4 months ago what I would be doing on 4/21/12, playing Carmel Marathon cheerleader was the last thing I would’ve told you. But as it turns out, being a cheerleader was the best thing I could’ve been on that day. {long post ahead}

Many months ago I had requested Friday off so I could take care of pre-marathon things (i.e. packet pickup, carb load, etc). Though I was no longer running, I still took advantage of the day away from work. I started things off at the gym, getting in some much needed elliptical time despite my strong urge to stay in bed. I then ran some errands, cleaned house, and put together some little treats for my running girls. Hey, if I wasn’t going to run this race, the best way to get out of my head was to go over and above the call of duty: Boppy Fairy style.

I picked up Jaime just before 6 and together we made the rainy trek to Bazbeaux Pizza in Carmel. Kelly (+ fam) and Christi were there when we arrived. Meghan and Jake swooped in next, followed by the husbands of J and I, who had spent the day on a golfing blind date. I popped a squat next to Kelly, who was planning on being my cheerleading partner-in-crime following her half marathon finish. The rest of the girls, Christi, Jaime, and Meghan, were all running the full. Kelly had already begun plotting out who would be where on her pre-printed race course map to ensure that someone would be standing post at most, if not all, of the important mile markers. Especially miles 21-24; AKA the “deep dark miles.”

26.2-ers: Meg, Christi, & Jaim

13.1 Kel, Laney, & I

After tending to business, we immediately carried on with our usual routine. I have to admit, it was nice having the men along for a change. And I think my husband appreciated finally being able to put faces to names of the girls I constantly babble about I presented the girls with their goodie bags full of nutritious race-day essentials: Pixi Stix, Jolly Ranchers, Clif Bars, and salt packets. Though they loved their goods, I don’t think they loved them quite as much as I loved what they had for me. Before I could fully prepare myself and after a short little speech, each girl proceeded to hold up a felt sign with the phrase “Go On For It For Bri” next to a blue-skirted runner girl. As if the signs weren’t enough, they then informed me that each of them would be wearing said signs during the race in order to bring me along with them on their journeys. I was stunned. And amazed. And emotional. For the most part, I held it together for the sake of carb loading. But as soon as I got in my car to head home after dinner, all was lost. My biggest fears were being left behind, and these girls made it 100% clear that that was the farthest thing from the truth.

Tears over pizza

My Artist

Saturday morning was a comedy of errors, the details of which I will tell you about next time. But due to the aforementioned errors, things were a little “off-kilter” in regards to timing. I ended up arriving in Carmel by about 715a. The weather, which I had hoped would’ve been perfect, was slightly sub-par. Cloudy, windy, and about 40 degrees. I had worn my Perfect Stranger tank under my long sleeved zip-up, but at no time during the day did it make an appearance. I decided to keep on my puffy vest, threw on a hat and gloves, and took off by bike to find the girls at gear check. As I arrived, the national anthem was already being sung and there was literally a fly-by meetup before the girls had to jump into the start corral. I teared up a bit knowing I had missed the chance to hug and love on them pre-race, but I sucked back the waterworks and instead continued on to get a good view of the start.

At 730 on the dot, they race begun. I screamed loudly for my Perfect Strangers and they, along with 2,500 other runners, started their hilly journey. Despite the previous day’s discussions, I stil wasn’t sure where I was going to plant myself for the first meetup. So I kind of winged it. After brief consultation with my course map, I decided to bike over to mile 5. Down Rangeline, left on 116th, and up to the corner of Hazel Dell. Once I arrived, I found some other cheerleaders manning their posts. One lady from Baltimore was waiting for her marathoning husband, whom she said would be with the 4-hour pace group. I wish I had found out more about them, but I was too caught up with watching the oncoming crowds. A few elites passed by, as evidence by their brigade of bikers and official race cars. I then saw a curly dark-haired girl that was charging ahead fast and strong. At the last minute I realized it was Adriana! Girl was running her very first marathon and I couldn’t believe how strong she looked at 5 miles in. I screamed her name, she screamed back, we hugged, and she went on her way. She ended up finishing in an astounding 3:52. Noroc girl!!

A few minutes later I saw a group of turquoise and white coming at me. It was my girls. I started skipping down the side of the road and yelled “it’s colder than s**t out here!!” I ran with them for just a few minutes. They all looked incredible and unphased at the task ahead. As they rounded the corner of 116th, I snapped a pic of their bums. Love love love.

After they sped by, I once again consulted my map and proceeded north on my cheerleading trek. I knew that my best bet was to get back to the start/finish area so I could be there when Kelly finished. I set myself up on the median of the road and cheered loudly as some seriously fast people whizzed by me. I even got to see some of my dailymile friends, Jenny and Chanthana [Congrats on your PRs, girls!!]. Before I knew it, a vision of turquoise was heading towards me. As she came speeding up the way, I could see the emotion all over Kelly’s face. Maybe it was the sight of a friend. Maybe just pure exhaustion. But I told her to keep going and she did just that. She charged ahead with a strong 2:00:25 finish and a pretty Earth medal to show for it

After piling on some layers, we grabbed our bikes and got on our way. First stop, however, was Soho Cafe, for some much needed hot chocolate. Dude, it was COLD out. As we drank, we continued to strategize our next stops. We determined that if we headed north on the Monon we would likely find our threesome around mile 16. After soaking up a few more minutes of warmth, we were off.

2nd Half Cheer Squad!

Riding in style

As soon as we approached 136th street, I caught a glimpse of what appeared to be our girls. I said to Kel, “is that them??” and we sped up to find out. Indeed it was Christi and Jaime, both of whom were maintaining a pace of 10 min/mile. And looking amazing while doing so. They told us that Meghan had fallen back about a mile or two prior, so she wasn’t far behind. On our bikes, we rode along side of the girls, asking how they felt and what they needed. They said they were feeling good – no complaints. With the exception of Jaime’s cold hands, for which I forfeited my gloves. After a few minutes, we determined that our chattiness was getting a too little annoying for them, so we wished them well and rode on ahead

We didn’t make it far before we realized we should hang back and find Meghan before moving on to our next spot. In no time at all, there she was, coming down the stretch with her friend Callie in tow. Again, we chatted with her for a minute or two before biking on, only to find another pack of Freeman Followers, with whom we hung for a bit.

Our next stop was mile 22. This was familiar Perfect Stranger territory, just next to the infamous Monon Center. Instead of biking along the course, this time we set up camp and waited for our runners. At about 1115, Christi and Jaime were finally in sight, and once again, looking amazing. Nowhere close to dark and dreary like the mileage would indicate. They were still maintaining their 10 min/mile pace and were on track for a 4:20 – 4:25 finish with only 4 miles to go. After a cowbell ring and some screams, we wished them well, and told them the next time they’d see us would be at the finish line!

As if biking and cheerleading wasn’t hard enough, I made sure to keep up my other role as informant for the missing Perfect Strangers, Meggie, Amy and Karen. Throughout the entire morning we had been in constant contact via text, giving updates and sending action pics to keep them in the loop. We certainly missed their energy but they were most definitely there in spirit.

Around noon, we once again set up camp on the median, waiting with baited breath for our girls. At this point, the official race clock was reading 4:20, so we knew it wouldn’t be long. Sure enough, not even a few minutes later did we see our turquoise tanks coming down the chute. We screamed. We cried. I smacked Jaime’s butt as she ran past us with sheer determination in her eyes. The blondies had done it. Not only had they finished their 7th and 3rd marathons, they did it with their second best and best times respectively. Official chip time: 4:22:57!

Here they come

There they go

We hugged. We cried. We bundled up our marathon babes (dude, it was STILL freezing out!). They grabbed celebratory beers and we patiently awaited our final Perfect Stranger’s arrival.

Winners!

All along the way, Meghan’s boyfriend Jake had kept us updated as to her progress. Where she was, how fast she was going, and when we should expect to see her at the finish line. We knew all along that she was going to crush her first marathon time of 5:05. This girl had been doing work. She was faster than ever, and we could tell this was her race. So when she rounded that final corner as the clock read 4:45, we all lost our minds.

 Not just a PR. A 20 MINUTE PR!! 4:46:40 chip time. Unbelievable, Meghan. So proud!

After grabbing snacks and beers and bundling up, we huddled near the gear check and reminisced. All of us, cheerleaders included, were flat out exhausted. Marathons are hard work all around. Clearly the runners have the worst of it, but spectating ain’t easy either! So it wasn’t long before we each gave out our final hugs, returned to our cars and made our way home for a much deserving hot shower. What. A. Day.

In some strange way, being a cheerleader seriously helped ease the pain of not being able to run this race. At times it was super emotional, but for the most part I was at peace with my decision. I was just so happy to be out there rooting for people who appreciated me. These are people who deserve my cheers. My time. My efforts. Because these are people who love and root for ME even when I am down and out. So far be it for me to not return the favor.

Kelly, Jaime, Meghan, Christi,, I couldn’t be any more proud of y’all if I tried. You all went on for it. With smiles. And cute pictures on your bums Love you so much!

,,, I get injured.

Just when I think I’m on the road to recovery,

,,, something else starts hurting.

Just when I think I’ll be off for just a [...]]]> Just when I think I’m invincible,

,,, I get injured.

Just when I think I’m on the road to recovery,

,,, something else starts hurting.

Just when I think I’ll be off for just a short while,

,,, I get told 4-6 weeks.

Just when I think I’m alone in my sorrows,

,,, this arrives in the mail.

Just when I get to thinking too much,

,,, I realize that it’s time to shut up and start listening.