Yahoo!  My new book is finished.  It’s called  “Running Blind: The Journey of a Blind Runner Training For Her First Marathon”

I got it done just before I ran the 4^th annual Missoula Marathon last month. The marathon I finished in July was actually my second time running the full one, cause after I ran the inaugural Missoula Marathon, I’ve run the half marathon the past two years.

When I was finished with my first marathon in 2007, I was convinced that I had no need to put myself through that torture ever again.

It wasn’t until I started writing my book about my first marathon experience that I decided to run another full marathon, so that’s how I ended up running it again a few weeks ago.

But let me tell you about my book – I’m so excited!  “Running Blind” is all about my first marathon experience. It includes everything from what lead up to my decision to run a full marathon, to the long months of dedicated and consistent training and finally to the running of the full 26.2 mile marathon, including all of the many lessons I learned along the way.  It’s full of great stories and the humorous tales of my journey.

I hope you’ll buy a copy for yourself, for friends and family, and be sure to tell everyone you know, too.  ’Cause it’s not just for runners – it’s for anyone who enjoys a great read. We all have obstacles to overcome in our life; this is just my story of how I took on the challenge of one of mine.

Right now there’s a couple of special promos going on to get a discount on the book – Purchase Running Blind: The Journey of a Blind Runner Training For Her First Marathon with 15% off with coupon code BEACHREAD305 or

You can get free shipping with a purchase over $19.95 with coupon code FREESHIP. So use whichever code works better with the amount you’re purchasing!

Just click any of the  links on this page to order your copy today! Click here:  Running Blind or download the first chapter for free at the top of the right hand column/sidebar!

And Enjoy!!

How ’bout it?

-Vision Runner

As you may know, I have been training for my 2^nd full marathon coming up in July.  After writing my soon to be published book, “Running Blind: The Journey of a Blind Runner Training for Her First Marathon” I decided it would be fun to run another full marathon to be able to put into practice all that I had learned from the first time around. 

So starting in March, I have been adding miles onto my long run on Sundays.  A few weeks ago, I ran the 18 miles that my marathon training schedule said I was to run.  Not really having a route that is long enough to run straight out and back, I had to come up with a plan that would allow me to get my 18 miles in somewhere around town, in areas that I was familiar with. 

It did involve me having to back track some of my miles, and run past my house again, which usually makes me want to head straight for the barn like some kind of out of control horse, but since it was only a few miles into my run, I didn’t have a problem passing the barn…err my house. 

I was now 6 miles into my run with another 12 to go.  I knew if I ran all the way down the Kim Williams Trail, an old railroad route turned into a bike and pedestrian path, I’d be able to get my full 18 miles that I needed.  I have always enjoyed running this trail, but since my eyesight has gotten worse, I have not run on it by myself in a few years. 

The main reason I don’t run it is because I have to go a lot slower and really watch out for tripping hazards such as rocks, fallen branches, and small children. 

Once on the trail, I remembered how much I loved running on the well traveled path. The mostly dirt trail runs right alongside the river.  It starts at the edge of the U of M campus and goes in about 3 miles.  It’s very peaceful and pretty, but as I said, lots of opportunities for me to get tripped up.

So on this particular Sunday, I had to be extra careful as I was running the trail with 12 miles already logged on my pedometer.  My legs were getting fatigued as I turned around to head back, the last 6 miles home.  

But it wasn’t on the rocky, family and children-infested trail that I “ran” into trouble.  The trouble was much less obvious to anyone with eyesight. It  came on the newly paved Riverfront trail that hooks up with the Kim Williams Trail.

I had deployed my white cane after coming off the dirt trail, and was weaving it back and forth on the shiny new path, thinking how nice it was.  The weather had been a perfect 56F degrees and partly sunny. All of a sudden a gust of wind and some light rain began to fall, just as I felt myself leaving the path. 

I was on a downward slope, and I knew I had gone off the path, and was preparing to stop, when a very large and very hard concrete pillar stopped me instead! 

Imagine my shock and disbelief as I did a face plant into concrete.  My nose and upper lip took the brunt of the impact.  Thankfully my running hat and white cane kept me from hitting it super hard.  I’m not saying I didn’t hit it hard, but at least I didn’t knock out any teeth or break my nose!

This concrete pillar is attached to a major bridge.  Yup about the only obstacle on this path, and I run right in to it!

So I stood there licking my wounds….well, not really licking… I used a tissue, and made an assessment of the damage.  Other than a fat lip and a small cut on my upper lip, I would live to run another day.  I debated with myself whether I should call home.  But since I was not hurt too bad, and I really did want to finish my run and get my 18 miles in, I pulled myself together and continued on.  I’m just glad I couldn’t see the people’s faces as I ran by, I’m sure I was a sight to see.  I did stop and run cold water on my lip from a water fountain.

Sometimes it sucks to be a blind runner!

When I got home we got an ice pack for my lip.  I said, “At least I didn’t come home without any teeth.” 

T replied, “Just come home, we’ll deal with the teeth later, just come home!”  We  both laughed, what else could we do?  I know it’s scary for her to let me go out and be independent, especially when I do things like this, but she knows that I’m doing what I love, and really I am careful, and now I know not to run into pillars…Yes I knew it before, but now I REALLY know!

How ‘bout it?

-Vision Runner

It was an early March day, and we were returning from a nice long walk in one of our favorite parks.  To get to this park on foot requires that we walk along a busy street on the bike and pedestrian path. In fact it’s the same path I run on all the time.  But it is along a very busy street, with lots of cars and trucks traversing the blacktop.  

All of a sudden, T stopped in the middle of the path.  I stopped as well, as I was holding her elbow while she guided me.  She seemed to be lost, and pondering where to go.  I was really confused, as I’m the one who always gets lost in the middle of places I know! 

So I asked her “What’s the matter? Are you lost?”  

She didn’t answer me right away.  She kept looking to her left, then to her right.  I prodded again, saying “What is it?  What are you looking at?”  

She then said, with a bit of reluctance, “There’s a chickadee just outside the white line on the road.” 

I immediately wanted to go get the poor little bird, and said so.  But seeing the obvious insanity of sending a blind woman to the edge of a busy street heaving with rushing traffic to try and locate a tiny cloud of feathers, she would have none of that.  

She asked me if I was done with my coffee.  I said yes and gave her my empty Starbucks cup.  She then made her way to the edge of the road and scooped up the little bird into the paper cup.

She put the cup with the chickadee peering out, onto the grass near a bush.  I naturally wanted to see it.  So T brought me over to see our nearly road kill.  

Once I saw the tiny ball of fluffy feathers, I wanted to hold it.  With a sigh T said, “Okay, but we are not taking it home!”   

I said, “I’ll take it to my mom’s.”

T could see I was not going to leave the chickadee there in the grass.

The little bird was wobbly, leaning to one side, and its wing kind of drooped and splayed out on that side. According to our best guess, it looked like it had probably flown into a car.  If it had gotten hit by a car, it would probably have been more dead or disfigured. But since he was still awake and alert, and not too startled, we figured he was probably dazed.

I wasn’t sure if it would even live very long, but I really didn’t want it to die alone or be lunch for a local cat or something. I know, circle of life and all that, but I really have a soft spot in my heart for birds. I raised a sparrow when I was a kid, and I couldn’t leave the cutest little fluff ball here to become an interesting diversion for a playful or hungry predator. 

 “He shouldn’t die alone,” I said in the saddest, most pathetic voice I could muster. Unable to refuse my puppy dog eyes and plaintive request, T relented and let me carry him to my mom’s.

I held the chickadee close to my body as we walked the few blocks to my mom’s place. 

Once there, my mom and I cooed and awed over the bird, encouraging him to try to drink some water and eat some oatmeal. I don’t think he did, but we certainly tried to be persuasive with the menu of presumably attractive (to a bird) items that we had available. 

After a bit, T said she had to get back home, but reminded me in her most fervent “tough guy” voice, that under no circumstances was I to bring the bird home.  

I agreed, saying I would try to call my friend Vickie and ask if she could care for the bird.  But of course (you can see the foreshadowing from a mile away ) when I called Vickie she was not home.  

My mind was racing, what should I do? How could I make sure that my little “Phoebe” would be well cared for? You know, I have such a warm glowing feeling for birds in general, and this one in distress made my heart expand, kind of like the Grinch’s heart where it “… grew three sizes that day.”  So I asked my mom if she had an old tissue box I could have.  

I was going to make my little charge a soft, cozy nest.  So with the make-shift nest ready, I put the chickadee in it and set off for home.  

My plan was to leave the bird under a spruce tree near our home, where I always heard lots of little birds.  When I got to the tree, I took the injured bird out and tried to put it under the tree.  But the fuzzy little thing refused to get off my hand. 

As I knelt there in the grass next to the tree wondering now what I was going to do, my cell phone rang.  It was T calling me.  “Hello,” I answered the phone. 

“Where are you?”  T said, concerned. 

“I’m trying to put the chickadee under this tree by Shopko, but he won’t get off my hand,” I said in a somewhat desperate voice.   There was silence on the other end of the phone.

“Okay, bring the bird home. We can put him in the bushes over by our house,” T said with some hesitation. 

“I love you. See you in a minute.”  I flipped my phone shut fast as I could so she couldn’t change her mind. 

Now let me point out to you that it’s not that T doesn’t love animals. It’s just that she knew that with my vision issues, the job of caretaking this downy delight that I was determined to take on, would eventually fall to her in one fashion or another. And she didn’t really need one more responsibility on her plate.

Back in the Kleenex-box nest the bird went, and I slowly walked the block to home. T was waiting for me on the steps.

So I took Phoebe – that’s what we started to call our chickadee ’cause that’s the song they sing “Chick-a-dee-dee-dee, Phoe-bee” – out of the box, and T brought us over to a bush in the alley near the fence.  

As I was going to release Phoebe, a big, barking, black dog approached menacingly towards us.  Okay, not a good plan. 

I said, “How ’bout under the porch?”  T agreed, so once again I tried to get the bird to hop out of my hand.  But Phoebe was having none of it.  

Again I turned sad eyes on T and said, “I don’t know what to do, I think he just needs a little time to get his strength back.” 

T just looked at me for a long moment, then said, “Alright, bring him into the office.”  This little fuzz ball had easily wrapped itself around my heart, and was starting to attach himself to T’s too.

Once inside the warm office, I dug out my heating pad and put it on low under the  box.  I covered the opening in the Kleenex box with a tissue to keep the heat in.  

T and I worked on our computers, checking on our little Phoebe every few minutes.  He – or she, we don’t really know which – was sleeping.  After an hour or so, we heard Phoebe trying to get out of the box.  I took the tissue off and Phoebe hopped out.  

His wing didn’t seem to be drooping as much, and the fact that he was hopping seemed like a good sign.  I went to see what I could find in the kitchen for him to eat.  I really had no idea what chickadees ate.  I assumed little insects and seeds.  Hmmm, fresh out of both.  So I had some corn and bread that I mashed up.  I brought in some water too.  Once again Phoebe refused to eat, but I did get him to take a little water.

By now, his strength was building and Phoebe was hopping all over the room, but he did tire easily.  He would go exploring under the desk, then have to take a little nap. His eyes would close for a few minutes.  With all the hopping and flapping and his wing back in its normal position, I thought perhaps Phoebe was ready to be set free.  So I scooped up my little bird-brained friend, and we headed outside. 

Phoebe had been so active, I was sure he wanted to go, but when I opened my hands to allow him to jump off, he just sat there, looked at me for a moment, then turned his attention to his wing and proceeded to preen his feathers.  He seemed to be saying, “La, la, la. What?  I’m not going anywhere.”  So T and I looked at each other and laughed.  What a personality this little guy had.  So we agreed, Phoebe had decided that he needed more time to recover. 

I put Phoebe back in his box, but he just didn’t want to stay in it.  I was trying to come up with something I could rig up for him, so he wouldn’t have to be confined to the box, but not hopping all over the office. I was having a hard time keeping track of him, and did not want to squash him. 

Pheoebe had hopped up T’s leg, and was resting there.  She looked at me and said, “Do you want to maybe get him a cheap bird cage?” I could tell he was working his own little bird magic and casting a spell on her so that she was beginning to fall in love with him. 

So T looked up the phone numbers to a few of the local pet stores, and found a bird cage for under $15.  She went to the mall a few blocks away, while I was in charge of watching Phoebe.  Easier said than done!  After T left, Phoebe jumped out of my hand, and I lost track of him. 

Then I heard flapping and scratching coming from the space heater in the room.  Thank goodness it wasn’t on.  Phoebe had managed to hop/fly/I’m not sure how?  through the metal grate protecting the heating pan.  By the time I bent a few rungs and coaxed him out of his little jail cell, poor little Phoebe was totally exhausted, and I could feel his tiny heart was beating so fast.  He fell asleep right in my hands. The trauma of the whole day was taking its toll; he spent a lot of time napping that day. 

T came home a few minutes later with a small bird cage in hand.  She also got some millet seed and was told that most birds would eat this.  T put the swing and perches along with a food and water cup into the cage.  Then we put Phoebe in his new home for the time being.  

We had decided that if he was strong enough in the morning we would let him go outside.  I was still concerned about Phoebe getting enough to eat.  I wanted to go to the pet store just around the block to get some wild bird seed.  Not seeing the need, since she had just brought home millet from the mall, but noting that I was not going to let it go, she finally gave in and drove me to the store. 

The place was just about to close, and the owner was helping some other customers.  So we set out on our own to look for the seed. That’s when I heard it, an old crackly sounding, “Heloooow.”  I moved towards the greeting, thinking it was a clerk to help us, when T grabbed my arm and directed me away from the mystery greeter.  I asked what was wrong.  Why was she so freaked out?

She then brought me over to a very bald parrot!  Okay not exactly bald, but his entire body had no feathers on it – his wings had a few feathers and his head looked mostly normal, but the gruesome sight of the oddly proportioned “naked” bird still haunts T to this day.  I must admit it was not a pretty sight, but I felt bad for the bird.

Eventually we got some seed and left that little shop of horrors.

When we got back home, I filled Phoebe’s seed cup and watched as he went from the swing to the food, choosing to sit in it, rather than eat it. 

I kept asking T to look and see if he was eating, as I could not see well enough to make it out.  She watched, and to our surprise the chickadee ate a few seeds!  I was very happy and optimistic that maybe Phoebe would be okay.  

T found an old towel, and we draped it over the back half of the cage, and shut off the lights, as Phoebe had perched on the swing and put his little head behind his wing. Nighty-night.

Now you might think this story had a happy ending, and I suppose, in a way, it does. But the next morning when we went to check on Phoebe, T couldn’t find him. Then she spotted the bird lying on the bottom of the cage…dead…yes our poor little Phoebe had died. Probably the shock to his system, along with the internal injuries were too extensive. He had been doing so much better the night before. We were both surprised and sad that our little distraction from the everyday routine was gone. 

But I was also able to look on it as a gift.  With my eyesight the way it is now, I am not able to see birds the way I used to.  So to be able to hold and look at this little chickadee up close was truly a gift from God. 

Even though the time we had with our little Phoebe was limited, he melted our hearts, and we still to this day reminisce about the day a bird no bigger than a chicken’s egg turned our Saturday into instant parenthood. 

How ‘bout it?

-Vision Runner

When I first started writing my marathon book back in 2008, I really didn’t think I would ever run another full marathon again.  But as I wrote each chapter of the book, it seeped back into my bones, and eventually it became clear to me that I would indeed run another full 26.2 mile marathon.  Why? 

Well for starters, I really do believe I can run a better race.  Through the process of writing and reflecting on all the aspects of my marathon training program, I came to realize that I’m still learning.  And it would be a shame to not put into action all those valuable lessons that I learned from training, running and finishing my first marathon. 

I now know what it is like to put it all on the line: to dig for and find the will and determination to see something all the way through. To find the infinitely amazing spirit and drive that is buried deep within myself to be gathered up when I need it most. 

Until I was put to the test, how did I know if I truly had these qualities in me or not?  I had never really been a quitter before, but I’d also never really challenged myself to such an extreme degree, either.  

I hoped I did, but it was not until I was at my lowest and most desperate point in the race – the point where my fatigue and delirium were screaming at me and praying “Please, God!” for relief – that I came up against the question – Should I continue on or should I quit? 

My feet had been pounding relentlessly on the pavement for 20 plus miles, my body reverberating from the never-ending percussion; my right calf was cramping up; my leg muscles felt like the overcooked-to- the- point-of-charred, dried-out, roasted wienie barely hanging on to the end of a hot dog stick.  I was overheated from running in the 90 degree plus temperatures, probably dehydrated, and most definitely delirious with physical and mental exhaustion. It’s actually kind of surprising that I wasn’t reduced to the point of singing the ABC song while following a hallucination of a baby elephant down the street. 

Although there was no hallucinating, there was a point where I was feeling defeated and ready to quit, and hearing the confidence and support on the other end of my call for help, the absolute belief and encouragement emanating from my cell phone, pretty much wiped the defeat out of me, and kept me from repeating the thought that I was ready to quit. 

It was then I knew I had it in me – what it took to finish – not only the marathon, but whatever else life could throw my way. I continued on, definitely slower and in pain and misery, but with the knowledge I was going to complete my journey and the strength in my heart to carry it through to the finish line. After all, I had to make it to the balloons!!   

Running a marathon for me was the best life lesson I could have ever had…and I’m going to go back for a refresher course! 

How ‘bout it?

Vision Runner

How ’bout it?

-Vision Runner

The Daffodil Principle
~ by: Jaroldeen Asplund Edwards

Several times my daughter had telephoned to say, “Mother, you must come and see the daffodils before they are over.” I wanted to go, but it was a two-hour drive from Laguna to Lake Arrowhead. Going and coming took most of a day–and I honestly did not have a free day until the following week.

“I will come next Tuesday, ” I promised, a little reluctantly, on her third call.

Next Tuesday dawned cold and rainy. Still, I had promised, and so I drove the length of Route 91, continued on I-215, and finally turned onto Route 18 and began to drive up the mountain highway. The tops of the mountains were sheathed in clouds, and I had gone only a few miles when the road was completely covered with a wet, gray blanket of fog. I slowed to a crawl, my heart pounding. The road becomes narrow and winding toward the top of the mountain. As I executed the hazardous turns at a snail’s pace, I was praying to reach the turnoff at Blue Jay that would signify I had arrived. When I finally walked into Carolyn’s house and hugged and greeted my grandchildren I said, “Forget the daffodils, Carolyn! The road is invisible in the clouds and fog, and there is nothing in the world except you and these darling children that I want to see bad enough to drive another inch!”

My daughter smiled calmly,” We drive in this all the time, Mother.”

“Well, you won’t get me back on the road until it clears–and then I’m heading for home!” I assured her.

“I was hoping you’d take me over to the garage to pick up my car. The mechanic just called, and they’ve finished repairing the engine,” she answered.

“How far will we have to drive?” I asked cautiously.

“Just a few blocks,” Carolyn said cheerfully.

So we buckled up the children and went out to my car. “I’ll drive,” Carolyn offered. “I’m used to this.” We got into the car, and she began driving.

In a few minutes I was aware that we were back on the Rim-of-the-World Road heading over the top of the mountain. “Where are we going?” I exclaimed, distressed to be back on the mountain road in the fog. “This isn’t the way to the garage!”

“We’re going to my garage the long way,” Carolyn smiled, “by way of the daffodils.”

“Carolyn,” I said sternly, trying to sound as if I was still the mother and in charge of the situation, “please turn around. There is nothing in the world that I want to see enough to drive on this road in this weather.”

“It’s all right, Mother,” She replied with a knowing grin. “I know what I’m doing. I promise, you will never forgive yourself if you miss this experience.”

And so my sweet, darling daughter who had never given me a minute of difficulty in her whole life was suddenly in charge — and she was kidnapping me! I couldn’t believe it. Like it or not, I was on the way to see some ridiculous daffodils — driving through the thick, gray silence of the mist-wrapped mountaintop at what I thought was risk to life and limb.

I muttered all the way. After about twenty minutes we turned onto a small gravel road that branched down into an oak-filled hollow on the side of the mountain. The Fog had lifted a little, but the sky was lowering, gray and heavy with clouds.

We parked in a small parking lot adjoining a little stone church. From our vantage point at the top of the mountain we could see beyond us, in the mist, the crests of the San Bernardino range like the dark, humped backs of a herd of elephants. Far below us the fog-shrouded valleys, hills, and flatlands stretched away to the desert.

On the far side of the church I saw a pine-needle-covered path, with towering evergreens and manzanita bushes and an inconspicuous, lettered sign “Daffodil Garden.”

We each took a child’s hand, and I followed Carolyn down the path as it wound through the trees. The mountain sloped away from the side of the path in irregular dips, folds, and valleys, like a deeply creased skirt.

Live oaks, mountain laurel, shrubs, and bushes clustered in the folds, and in the gray, drizzling air, the green foliage looked dark and monochromatic. I shivered.

Then we turned a corner of the path, and I looked up and gasped. Before me lay the most glorious sight, unexpectedly and completely splendid. It looked as though someone had taken a great vat of gold and poured it down over the mountain peak and slopes where it had run into every crevice and over every rise. Even in the mist-filled air, the mountainside was radiant, clothed in massive drifts and waterfalls of daffodils. The flowers were planted in majestic, swirling patterns, great ribbons and swaths of deep orange, white, lemon yellow, salmon pink, saffron, and butter yellow.

Each different-colored variety (I learned later that there were more than thirty-five varieties of daffodils in the vast display) was planted as a group so that it swirled and flowed like its own river with its own unique hue.

In the center of this incredible and dazzling display of gold, a great cascade of purple grape hyacinth flowed down like a waterfall of blossoms framed in its own rock-lined basin, weaving through the brilliant daffodils.

A charming path wound throughout the garden. There were several resting stations, paved with stone and furnished with Victorian wooden benches and great tubs of coral and carmine tulips. As though this were not magnificence enough, Mother Nature had to add her own grace note — above the daffodils, a bevy of western bluebirds flitted and darted, flashing their brilliance. These charming little birds are the color of sapphires with breasts of magenta red. As they dance in the air, their colors are truly like jewels above the blowing, glowing daffodils. The effect was spectacular.

It did not matter that the sun was not shining. The brilliance of the daffodils was like the glow of the brightest sunlit day. Words, wonderful as they are, simply cannot describe the incredible beauty of that flower-bedecked mountain top.

Five acres of flowers! (This too I discovered later when some of my questions were answered.) “But who has done this?” I asked Carolyn. I was overflowing with gratitude that she brought me — even against my will. This was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

“Who?” I asked again, almost speechless with wonder, “And how, and why, and when?”

“It’s just one woman,” Carolyn answered. “She lives on the property. That’s her home.” Carolyn pointed to a well-kept A-frame house that looked small and modest in the midst of all that glory.

We walked up to the house, my mind buzzing with questions. On the patio we saw a poster. ” Answers to the Questions I Know You Are Asking” was the headline. The first answer was a simple one. “50,000 bulbs,” it read. The second answer was, “One at a time, by one woman, two hands, two feet, and very little brain.” The third answer was, “Began in 1958.”

There it was. The Daffodil Principle.

For me that moment was a life-changing experience. I thought of this woman whom I had never met, who, more than thirty-five years before, had begun — one bulb at a time — to bring her vision of beauty and joy to an obscure mountain top. One bulb at a time.

There was no other way to do it. One bulb at a time. No shortcuts — simply loving the slow process of planting. Loving the work as it unfolded.

Loving an achievement that grew so slowly and that bloomed for only three weeks of each year. Still, just planting one bulb at a time, year after year, had changed the world.

This unknown woman had forever changed the world in which she lived. She had created something of ineffable magnificence, beauty, and inspiration.

The principle her daffodil garden taught is one of the greatest principle of celebration: learning to move toward our goals and desires one step at a time — often just one baby-step at a time — learning to love the doing, learning to use the accumulation of time.

When we multiply tiny pieces of time with small increments of daily effort, we too will find we can accomplish magnificent things. We can change the world.

“Carolyn,” I said that morning on the top of the mountain as we left the haven of daffodils, our minds and hearts still bathed and bemused by the splendors we had seen, “it’s as though that remarkable woman has needle-pointed the earth! Decorated it. Just think of it, she planted every single bulb for more than thirty years. One bulb at a time! And that’s the only way this garden could be created. Every individual bulb had to be planted. There was no way of short-circuiting that process. Five acres of blooms. That magnificent cascade of hyacinth!

All, all, just one bulb at a time.”

The thought of it filled my mind. I was suddenly overwhelmed with the implications of what I had seen. “It makes me sad in a way,” I admitted to Carolyn. “What might I have accomplished if I had thought of a wonderful goal thirty-five years ago and had worked away at it ‘one bulb at a time’ through all those years. Just think what I might have been able to achieve!” My wise daughter put the car into gear and summed up the message of the day in her direct way. “Start tomorrow,” she said with the same knowing smile she had worn for most of the morning. Oh, profound wisdom!

It is pointless to think of the lost hours of yesterdays. The way to make learning a lesson a celebration instead of a cause for regret is to only ask, “How can I put this to use tomorrow?”

Well lots of lessons learned, as you gathered from the last post. Now this one, I’ll focus on what I did right 

I can tell you the first thing I did right was to decide to run the marathon in the first place! 

I had always told myself I didn’t need to run 26.2 miles to prove anything, to myself or others.  But when Run Wild Missoula announced that they would be putting on a full 26.2 mile marathon in my hometown of Missoula in 2007, I was all over it. 

Deep down inside, I had always had an urge to run a full marathon. I had always said that I didn’t really want to because I didn’t want to deal with the hassle of travel and running in a strange environment where I didn’t really know the area or the race route. Logistically, running a race alone, away from home is stressful for a blind runner. 

But since it was going to be right here at home, wow – kazow…let’s do it! I felt I was at a good place in my running program that I could train for and run a 26.2 mile marathon.  

And what fun to be part of the Inaugural Missoula Marathon, especially if it became an annual event. It would be great to be able to say that I had run the Inaugural Missoula Marathon. That carries a little deserved swagger, don’t you think?

So when I started training for the marathon at the beginning of January, one of the first right things I did was to start studying all sorts of material on training for a marathon.  One very important tip I learned was to eat a recovery meal within the first 30 minutes after a run.  This was something I had previously not been in the habit of doing before I started my marathon training.

In addition, my overall nutrition plan became much healthier, as I really began to pay attention to what I ate, and how it would affect my running. 

One brilliant idea I had was to enlist the help of my friend Vickie to help me with my long runs.  By having Vickie ride her bike with me on my long runs, I was able to concentrate on running instead of things like traffic, and where or how I was going to get my water and power drinks to replenish on my long training runs.  She took care of all of that for me so that all I had to do was run.  There was the added bonus of having great company and conversation as she rode alongside on my run and of course, the rekindled friendship with a dear friend.

Another thing I did right (and would highly recommend to you) was to buy two identical pairs of running shoes at the beginning of my marathon training program.  I set one pair aside after I got them broke in. All I did was put about 150 to 200 miles on them, and then brought them out for the marathon.  This was great because I wasn’t wearing brand new shoes that were too stiff that hadn’t been broken in yet. Nor was I wearing a worn-out pair with too many miles on them. My feet had great support the whole race, and I didn’t need to buy a new pair of running shoes after the race, ‘cause there were still a few hundred miles left on the race shoes. Thanks Anders at “The Runner’s Edge”. Great advice! Now I do that every time I’m preparing to start training for a race.

Another good strategy was to tell as many people as I could that I was running in my first marathon.  This not only got me excited about running 26.2 miles, but it got others pulling for me, too.  Their respect, enthusiasm and awe of how I could even think of doing something like that as a blind runner, was highly motivational.  Since I knew they were watching and were going to inquire as to how my training was going, etc., it made me stick to my marathon training schedule, even when sometimes I wanted to skip a long run.  I knew by having told so many people about running the marathon, that I could not disappoint them or myself.  It was a very good tool to keep me motivated when my body was insisting that I “Stop this nonsense!” 

Oh yeah, I almost forgot. The most important thing I did right was… are you ready?

I finished the race! 

26.2 miles in just under five and a half hours.

5:28:00

Yea for me!

How ‘bout it?

-Vision Runner 

What I Did Wrong: 5 Lessons From My Marathon Experience

I think it’s important to look at an experience and figure out what could have gone better, in addition to what went right.  So, in considering my first marathon experience, I wanted to expand on some of the things I did wrong with my marathon training and preparation for the race.

As I look at it, I see about 5 significant things that I could have done differently to improve my overall marathon experience.  

I recently heard it said that it’s not “Experience is the best teacher,” but rather “Someone else’s experience is the best teacher.”

Obviously experience, whether your own or someone else’s, is a good teacher, but in the spirit of providing you with the best instructor (someone else’s experience) I’m going to share with you lessons from my own marathon trials and tribulations. That way, if you should decide to train for a marathon or half-marathon, these lessons that I learned could be beneficial to both of us.

After all if we’re going to spend 6 months training and preparing for an endurance race that lasts multiple hours, it would be wise for us to do more things right than wrong.

So…Away we go.

One of the first things that I know I did wrong during my marathon training program (and actually, I was aware of it when it was happening) was not doing any strength training, especially core strength exercises.

Even though it wasn’t until over a year later that I found out that my back was way out of alignment and that I was running over 13 lbs heavier on my right side than my left, by doing the core strength exercises I know I would not have had as much trouble with my right hip and foot during the 26.2 mile race.

Not to mention it would have been a quicker and easier recovery afterwards.

Another thing I should have done but chose not to (purely from an immediate gratification standpoint) was training in hot weather.  Since the Missoula Marathon is in mid-July, it should have been a no brainer…but I despised running in hot weather.  Big mistake on my part, as we had the hottest summer on record! 

By only training during the cool morning hours, my body was not prepared for the 90 to 100 degree weather that day. I totally screwed up my water and nutritional intake.  While I was racing, I was consuming way too many power gels. But I was in a panic – not knowing what else to do, trying to maintain my fuel tank and hydration levels.  Granted, in temps over 95 degrees I’m not sure how anyone can stay hydrated running for more than four hours, but I clearly didn’t help the situation.

The third major mistake I made was a mental error: starting out too fast.  For some unexplained reason, in my mind I thought I could run a 4:00 marathon – even though I had never run that fast in any of my training runs.  In fact, I had not done any speed work at all!  So that I chalk up to plain ol’ ego! 

By starting out at too fast of a pace, I set myself up for right hip pain, my foot going numb, and hitting the wall at mile 20.

And the one genuinely stupid thing I did, that I actually knew better than to do was wearing a pair of socks that I had not washed yet. And believe me, I paid for it with a nasty blister on the back of my heel.

Remember that thing I said about someone else’s experience being the best teacher? Well take advantage of this last lesson, cause this one I learned the hard way – I couldn’t have known it before I did it – but you can, now that I’m going to tell you: never, never sit down right after the race!  Not only will it be excruciating to try and get back up, but it’s embarrassing as you’re providing entertainment for anyone watching when you do try it. Walk around for about ten minutes or so after hitting the finish line.

I know the first instinct is to sit – for crying out loud you’ve just run 26.2 miles!  But don’t do it!   You’ll thank me when you don’t have to call for help to get off the toilet! Sure, it’s funny…but I’m not really kidding.

So now that you know what I did wrong, you won’t have to make the same mistakes – you can make your own. For that’s what it’s all about: learning from your mistakes, so the next race will be that much better.     

Ready to Run?

How ‘bout it?

-Vision Runner

Well let me tell you, after running my first marathon in 2007, I really needed some time off to heal.  After the stiffness wore off, I found that my right ankle was weak.  Sometimes walking on it, it felt like I may have had a stress fracture.  But it wasn’t all the time, and since I was not planning on running any time soon, I just made sure I was very careful with it. 

And my legs! They stayed sore for days.  I was amazed how long it took for my legs to stop feeling like twin tree stumps slogging through knee-high mud whenever I walked! 

Not only did I need to rest my body physically, I needed to rest emotionally as well.  Training for the marathon had taken up over half of my year!  In some ways it was hard to believe it was over.  For 6 ½ months my life revolved around my marathon training schedule, and now, suddenly, it didn’t. In a way, I felt more emotionally drained than physically. 

In the weeks that followed the marathon, I vacillated between elation and frustration. Of course I was proud of the fact that I had run a full 26.2 miles, but at the same time, I was disappointed that I had to walk a lot of the last 6 miles, which significantly slowed my finish time.  

I recognized that I had made some errors in my training and the actual running of the race.  It was too bad, but there was no way I was going to ever run another full marathon again…or so I thought. 

It was a good month or so before I started to feel the need to run again.  In the meantime I did a lot of walking, and that was just fine by me. 

It was not until over two years later, at the very end of 2008 that I realized that my structural alignment was off the charts.  A bout of sciatica brought me to my knees (literally).  During 2009 I spent lots of time getting to know my wonderful chiropractor and following his instruction on everything from stretching to hydration and nutrition.  And now I’m in tip-top shape. In fact, I’m in better shape than I’ve ever been in my life before considering that I’ve spent my entire adult life until 2009 with my back out of alignment as my body compensated for a knee injury I suffered in high school. In fact, I was so askew that I was 13.5 lbs heavier on my right side when I first went to see the chiropractor. 

Running now, with my body in alignment has allowed me to put in more miles in a week than I ever thought I was capable of.  It’s nice to know that if I ever do choose to run another full marathon, my alignment should have a major role in a better outcome at the finish line. 

Ready to Run?

How ‘bout it?

-Vision Runner     

Last year I ran in a little 4 mile race that took place in an area of town I am not as familiar with.  The Missoula Roots Run is in conjunction with the Missoula Roots Festival:  lots of live music, arts and crafts and plenty of food!  Having lived in Missoula all my life, I knew the area but had not run in this particular part of town since the mid-90’s.  So while I “knew” where I was, I was still a little bit nervous about running this race and staying on the race route. 

The race started at 11 a.m. which I thought was kind of a late start for the end of August.  But as it turned out, it was quite pleasant: not too hot yet with blue, sunny skies.  

The time was getting close to the start of the race, so T positioned me somewhere in the middle of the group of runners off to the right side.  

We were waiting for the bang of the start gun to go off when Anders, the owner of our local running store “The Runners Edge,” announced that we had to wait a few minutes to start the race as there was a train crossing right on the road we were starting on.  

As we stood there, a gal who was waiting next to us said she has seen me running out by her house.  I commented on the hill we would be running less than a mile into the race.  I told her I had not run hills in years, and was not sure how I would do.  She told us about what a fellow runner had advised.  

He said, “If you want to be good at running hills, Run Hills. If you want to run fast…Run Fast.”  

This was such a straight-forward concept, but very profound at the same time.  How many times do we say “I wish I could….”  But how simple it is, really: If we just simply did it, eventually we would get good at it.  

Me, personally, however, I do not wish to be good at running hills…

How ‘bout it?

-Vision Runner 

P.S. The hill was fairly easy, and I also ended up with lots of help on the race route as people were so generous when they saw I was using my white cane.  I am so grateful for the kind and loving women who took the time during their run to make sure I was okay and following the right route.  Sure makes me proud of my fellow runners! 

And I finished the four miles in about 46 minutes…Not too bad for a blind runner.

Well, it’s been 3 years since I ran my first full 26.2 mile marathon in 2007.  And even though I said I would never run another full marathon, and the past two years I’ve been perfectly satisfied to run the half marathon, the time I’ve spent writing my book about training for and running my first marathon really got me considering running the full marathon again. 

Experience is a great educator, and I realized that there were a lot of things I did wrong in my first one. Such as starting out too fast in my delusional fantasy of running a 4 hour marathon, when I have never run that fast before, ever!  

And there were a bunch of things I could have done better, such as training in hot weather, and incorporating a strength training program into my workouts. 

But most of all I’m planning on running another marathon simply because I just want to prove to myself that I can have a really great marathon experience from the running aspect of things. I struggled with the heat and some physical issues from not realizing that my body was out of alignment. 

The reason I’m even considering a full marathon again is because I had such a wonderful experience with the whole process the first time around:  from the training runs with my good friend Vickie, to the wonderful support from my partner, friends, and family, to the awesome celebratory dinner afterwards at the Lolo Creek Steakhouse.  

But most of all, it was the Missoula Marathon itself!  It was an incredible experience for me, and I’m not the only one who thinks so. In fact, Run Wild Missoula does such a fantastic job of pulling together such a phenomenal race experience for the runners, that it was named Runner’s World Magazine’s Reader’s Choice 2010 as Best Overall Marathon!  How’s that for a great reason to run it again?

So with some new challenges to face this year as I train and prepare, like having to use my white cane more, and my work schedule shifting as I coordinate the logistics of working a new job, I am still more than ready to put in the miles to get me to the finish line healthy and with a huge smile on my face!

Ready to Run?

 How ’bout it?

-Vision Runner

I just couldn’t stand it anymore…it didn’t matter what the weather was like, I had to get outside and run this past week!  Even though the path I use still had some snow cover and patches of ice in shaded areas, I simply decided that it didn’t matter. If it was too bad, I would just turn around and head back home.

As it turned out, I landed in an ice puddle just as I exited our alley!  Well, I didn’t have to try and avoid puddles any more since my feet were now members of the “Polar Bear Club”. 

It felt so great to be outside again: breathing in the fresh, crisp winter air.  There was one place on the trail that could have been a child’s wading pool…and I managed to run right through the middle of it, splashing freezing cold water onto the front of my running tights.  Luckily, the weather was in the high 30’s to low 40’s.  I just gave a loud yelp and vowed not to hit it again on the way back!

It had been about 10 days since my last outdoor run, and I was more than ready.  The day before I had run on the treadmill for 40 minutes, and because of my limited eyesight and elusive balance, I had to hold onto the treadmill as I ran. This makes running on the treadmill, which is already a tedious task, more trouble than it’s worth. I would rather slog through ice puddles than run on a treadmill any day!

So you don’t have to let a few ice puddles get in the way of having a great run – I certainly didn’t.

How ‘bout it?

-Vision Runner

For those of you paying attention, back in September I was telling you about my first marathon and the events of race day. Well, I never got around to publishing part four, the final part of my marathon adventures, because a lot of miscellaneous stuff came up. But for those of you that have been waiting, clenching the edge of your seat, only removing yourself from the glow of your computer screen for bathroom breaks and to open holiday and birthday gifts . . . Your patience is about to be rewarded!

Here it is…the long awaited conclusion and results of my marathon race day.

You’re Welcome!!

Part 4 Missoula Marathon 2007 Race Day

Well, as you’ll recall, I had just had a pit stop, where T poured cold water on my neck and changed out my neck wrap for a fresh cold one. 

It was hot – 90 plus degrees out – a record breaking summer for western Montana! The sun was intense, and there was no shade to be found. 

I was running along, nearing the 20 mile mark, when I noticed my right foot was feeling numb.  I stopped to examine it and as I felt my ankle to see if it felt swollen, I flexed my toes on my right foot…Whoa!!! Big mistake!  My whole leg started to cramp up.  I never get cramps, so when this one started, I panicked a bit.  I pushed my toes back down and furiously rubbed my right leg, and luckily, with that immediate and intense attention, I was able to avoid a full blown cramp.  But of course, this whole situation had me worried – a lot.  Would I be able to finish the race? If I ran on my numb foot, I could injure it even worse and not even realize it. Would it hurt to walk on it? Could I keep myself safe and healthy, or was it too late?

Obviously I couldn’t run on a numb foot…that was just too dumb, so I started walking because I didn’t want to risk twisting my ankle and being unable to finish the race.  With my ever-present cell phone, I called T.  I think she was surprised to be hearing from me.  I said I didn’t know if I could go on.  We had a bad connection, so when she said, “What?  I didn’t hear you…,” right then and there I decided not to repeat my negative thoughts, and instead I told her I was going to have to walk some of the last 6 miles due to my numb foot and leg cramps. 

So we pushed back the next meeting time, and I told her I would call again when I was getting closer.  I was more than a little bummed by my set-back, but at the same time, I was glad that I was able to walk, and even run some when the numbness subsided, and I felt my foot was okay. 

All along the way, volunteers were there to hand out water, power aid and gels, and the crowds were so supportive. 

At one point, a volunteer on a bike came up to me and asked how I was doing.  I told her I was walking due to some cramping in my right leg.  She gave me about 6 Pringles potato chips for the sodium and, can you believe this: her own personal water bottle!? How amazingly generous and compassionate!  She told me I could leave her water bottle at the next aid station, and she would get it there. I was so grateful for her care and attention. 

By now, I knew it was true what I had heard about the marathon: that it was really two races: the first twenty miles, then the last six.  Because my last 6 miles were hell.  It seemed like it was taking forever. 

My next pit stop was near the mall with about 3.2 miles to go on the bike path that I was very familiar with.  There again I met T, and this time our good friend Marty was there too.  They got me a fresh cool neck wrap and water.  T walked with me for awhile, but I really wanted her to be at the finish line, so I said I would be fine and started to run for a bit, and she peeled off to head towards the finish line downtown. 

The enthusiastic crowds at the mall gave me a much needed boost of energy, and I ran for quite some time before I had to walk again.  I was very aware of my time: that it was going to be well over 5 hours before I would cross the finish line.  Of course my objective had now changed, and I was only concerned with finishing, and doing it in under the 6 hours required to be an official finisher. 

So with my run-a-little/walk-some-more strategy, I plugged along on the path that had no shade at all.  The sun was beating down on me, and I knew it had to be getting close to 100 degrees! 

As I was approaching the turn that would take me over the Orange Street Bridge, I could hear the music playing and the crowd cheering, and in my brain I did an imaginary back flip with excitement:  I knew I was just about there! 

As I got to the bridge where the finish line was, I was looking around.  I could see balloons tied to the side of the bridge, but I was expecting so much more.  According to what the website had said, there was supposed to be a huge balloon arch.  Oh well…I was just excited to be on the bridge.  I gave it my all, running as fast as I could, high-fiving the onlookers as they stretched their hands out and shouted words of encouragement.

I finished strong, running at a sprint towards the finish line.  I was never so happy to be done with a race in all my life. 

I was a marathoner!  Albeit a bit of a dazed marathoner, but an undisputed one, nonetheless.  My finish time was: 5:28:00.

T came to the finish line and escorted me to get my finishers medal in the shape of a star, and then on to the food:  to the re-fueling station to replenish my glycogen stores!  I was  wobbly and very tired, and with the temperature hitting the mid 90’s, of course I was overheated.  I sat in a folding chair under a tent, and chowed down on watermelon and bagels.  The pasta and salty nut mix were just what I needed. 

After I regained some of my strength, I turned to T and said with absolute conviction, “I’m never doing that again!” 

“I was hoping you would say that,” she replied. She knew how hard this whole marathon training process for the past six months had been on my body.

Then it was time to head for home.  But there was one small problem with that plan: I could not get out of the chair.  My legs had stiffened up.  But T managed to pull me up to a standing position.  I didn’t want to hang around as it was hot, did I mention it was hot?  And I needed my Starbucks fix! 

So we stopped at my favorite coffee hangout, and I showed off my medal to anyone who would look!  At one point I asked T to tell me what it said on my star-shaped medal. 

She looked at it and then said with a straight face, “My Little Sherriff.” 

“WHAT!?!” 

Of course it didn’t really say that, but I have to admit the shape of the star medal did look like one of those kids play tin sheriff badges. To this day, we still laugh about that.

Once we were home, I had a soothing bath and tried to take a nap, but my legs were too sore and every time I moved they hurt. So it was not very restful.  I got up, and within a few hours my legs felt better.  It wasn’t until I tried to climb the stairs that I realized just how sore they really were.  And don’t even get me started about going to the bathroom!

That evening, T and Marty took me out to our favorite steak house for my celebratory dinner.  Yes, I wore my medal, and if it was socially acceptable I would have worn it as a badge of accomplishment everywhere I went for a week or two!  But I was content to wear it to dinner, where I did talk to several other marathoners and half marathoners who had run in the race, and we all agreed it was way too hot! DUH! I don’t know if anyone running a marathon could really stay hydrated in that heat.

Oh yeah, that balloon arch that was supposed to be at the finish line? It was there, big as life.  I didn’t see it when I ran under it, so imagine my surprise when I saw it in the photo. What’s that all about? You’d think I was blind or something….

How ‘bout it?

-Vision Runner

P.S. If you’re getting value out of this blog, you can do me a favor by linking to us and mentioning my blog to friends and co-workers. Here’s the link information for this particular article:
Title: Marathon Training: My First Marathon – Race Day Part 4

URL: http://runnerinsight.com/2010/01/12/marathon-training-my-first-marathon-race-day-part-4/

The best part of my winter runs is when I’m going over a bridge that’s about 3 miles into my 8 mile run.  I just love the way the winter sun hits the river.  The angle of the sun is lower in the sky, casting a more diffuse light across the water at a different angle than during the rest of the year.  It looks like the cascading of diamonds across the surface, sparkling, glimmering and fading, over and over again, millions of times each instant. Awesome.

Sometimes I’ll just pause and take in all that this winter scene has to offer, free of charge, just for the price of a minute’s stopping and savoring: peace, tranquility, and a calming of my soul.  And even though I can’t see the river the way I used to be able to, the cool thing is that my eyes allow me to view the rushing water in a way I have never before experienced it.  Abstract trees line the banks, as an artists’ brush paints a serene,  indistinct, yet beautiful landscape for my eyes only.  

Nothing makes me feel more alive than when I’m running in the cool winter air, and I find myself grinning like a fool just for the pure pleasure of running. And that’s the way I like it!

How ‘bout it?

-Vision Runner

2009 is in the archives, and a bright, beautiful new year awaits us all in a shiny new package and it’s up to each of us to make the best of it.

Here’s the news!

Got to Burbank, CA on my virtual RunOverToEllen’s on my birthday Dec. 2^nd, running all of the 1,222 ¼ virtual miles in my home town of Missoula, MT.  I never did hear from The Ellen Show or any of Ellen’s staff, even after a multiple months mailing campaign.  But no worries: Her loss, my gain as I had a blast racking up the miles and raising money for Guide Dogs for the Blind along the way.

This year I’ve been so thankful for my chiropractor, Dr. Krieg.  He really got my back aligned and my sciatica cured so I could put in all the running miles.  I ran more miles in a week than I had ever thought I would want to, and enjoyed every step of it.

This summer, I ran in hotter temperatures than I had ever voluntarily chosen to run, by giving myself permission to turn around if I wanted to.  I also learned how to make my running more enjoyable by taking water with me on my runs.  Not only did it keep me hydrated, but it also allowed me to take nutrition with me to eat at my half-way mark.  This one technique alone – hydrating a couple of ounces every mile – helped me to run as many as 50 miles in a week.

Also, this winter I gave myself permission to run in colder weather than I usually enjoy.  Typically this time of the year it is very hard for me to get out and run due to snow on the trail, but the cold temps usually keep me inside as well. This year I gave myself a cut-off temp of 20 degrees F.  It’s still cold, but at 20 my lungs don’t freeze!  But I’ll write more about my winter running in another blog.

In 2010 I plan on finishing my marathon book.  I am also going to be doing some motivational speaking.

T is now “A Better You Coach”  and she can coach you on just about anything to help you achieve your “better you” -  health and wellness, or even help you grow your small business.  Check out her website at: www.ABetterYouCoach.com

I have more to tell you about upcoming events in 2010, so stay tuned to this blog for more great stories and inspiration!  Make it a great week!

How ’bout it?

–Vision Runner

^ Click Arrow To Listen

I had made the turn that would take me through the Big Flat valley.  I was running along, feeling good as I had just seen T and I had a fresh boost of energy, hydrating and unaware of the “Leg Mile Marker” No. 9 coming up.  Let me explain.  

Each mile along the route was marked not only by a big number painted on the road indicating the mileage, but Missoula artists had painted really amazing, very unique mile marker sculptures in the shape of a runner’s lower leg.  The leg mile markers were life-size and had balloons attached to them. 

Well I, of course being legally blind, did not see the marker, so naturally, I plowed right into it, getting the balloons wrapped up in my legs.  It took some maneuvering, but I was able to extract myself from them within a few seconds, fortunately with no damage to the mile marker or myself.  Of course my up close and personal encounter with the balloons was witnessed by my fellow runners.

Still shaking my head and laughing to myself, I continued on my way; the Big Flat Valley was so peaceful and scenic.  Soon I began a gradual climb, the only hill on the 26.2 mile course, and really not too bad of a incline, except that it was really starting to heat up, and it was only 8:30 a.m.  The shade of the canyon was very refreshing and welcome.  

About half way up the hill, I saw that quite a few of the other marathon runners were walking, and the urge to join them was too much for me to resist, so I walked for a while too.  The walk did me good, and soon I was back running again.  I hit the half way mark and my time was 2:16.  I was excited to be right on track for a 4:30 finish.  

My dreams of a 4 hour marathon were long gone!  As I started the descent down out of the canyon, the 4:30 pace group passed me.  I started to run with them, but found their pace was too fast for me, and I fell behind. 

Coming out of the shade of the canyon, the heat hit me full force, like a blast furnace with its doors wide open!  At least I was now running in familiar territory; I had done a lot of my training runs here.  I got an energy drink at the aid station at mile 15 and had a power gel.  It was hot; did I mention that it was hot?    

I was really looking forward to seeing T at mile 16!  My hip was now hurting more, and all I could think about was getting to mile 16.  When I got to where I thought T would be, I didn’t see or hear her, and the fatigue and pain was making me feel a bit desperate and anxious.  I kept running and looking, when I heard T shouting to keep coming, just a little bit farther.  I made it to where she was.  I kept saying, “Where were you?”  She told me she had to park a little ways down the road, as there were too many cars right at the turn.  In reality, she was not even 100 yards down the road from where I expected to see her, but in my bonked out mind it seemed miles! LOL 

So I got some cold water and a fresh, cool neck wrap and we poured water on my neck and wrists and I splashed it on my face and arms.  The heat was intense and the next 10 miles came with no shade at all!  So with another hug for luck I was on my way a bit more composed…But not for long…

^Click Arrow To Listen 

The cannon was loud and made its point: I was off and running along with about 500 other marathoners.  It was exciting to be running in the Inaugural Missoula Marathon. I was a part of history.

The sun was barely up, and it was so quiet except for the sound of many, many feet hitting the pavement.  I felt good and the pace was fast, but not uncomfortable.  In retrospect, I see it was adrenaline and the reality of being in my first marathon that kept my pace fast for the first 8 miles. 

As the runners started to thin out a bit, I fell into a really good zone.  I was feeling strong and was inhaling the sights and sounds of the early morning start.  We were running alongside open fields, and the sound of the large irrigation sprinklers tick, tick, ticking away was as simplistic and serene as the joy I felt from hearing them.  As I ran, I could hear a lone meadowlark singing its song to cheer me along. 

The 8 mile mark was just ahead, and I could hear the music from several boom boxes pumping out the tunes loud and strong to keep us marathon runners energized and motivated.  Then I heard my name being called out.  I looked up and it was T. She told me my time, right on track for a 4:30 finish.  It was such a great surprise to see her at this point in the race, as I wasn’t expecting to see her until the 16 mile mark.  So with a fresh, cool neck wrap and a hug for luck, she shooed me off to continue on my quest.  

My right hip was beginning to hurt a little; this was a pain I hadn’t had before.  I was kind of worried, as I still had a long ways to go. I kept running and soon I made the turn that would lead me through one of the most beautiful valleys in Western Montana. The Big Flat valley is known for its picturesque horse ranches and the winding Clark Fork River with dramatic drop offs.

As I was running along, I encountered my first mishap at mile marker number 9….

How ’bout it?

-Vision Runner 

I’m excited…my New Moon Abundance Checks story is in the new book by Patricia Sheehy “Dancing Under the Full Moon – 101 Ways to ATTRACT MONEY into YOUR LIFE.

She sent me an autographed copy. We started reading the book, and it’s great! We decided that each week we’re going to try one of the strategies talked about in the book. That should take us out about two years.

This week we’re working on de-cluttering.  That’s a great one as we live in a small two bedroom place, and things have a  tendency to accumulate and pile up…especially at our desks!

Anyway, you’ll want to check out the book. You can order it here: http://budurl.com/2jc9

How ’bout it?

-Vision Runner

^Click Arrow To Listen 

Wow!  The day was finally here!  All my training and hard work were about to be put to the test.  I was feeling pretty good about the training that I had put in and felt that I could go the distance: the whole 26.2 miles in my very first marathon! 

Rubbing the sleepy bugs out of my eyes, I made my way to the kitchen for my pre-race meal.  I stuck with what I knew would settle well with me.  So after a banana and yogurt, I got dressed. 

T was ready to go with the camera and water.  We made our way out to Frenchtown to the start of the race.  I could tell it was going to be a warm start to the race, as it was already in the low 60’s.  That concerned me a little, as I had done all my training runs in relatively cool weather, but obviously there was nothing I could do about it at this point.  The night before, we had soaked the neck wraps in cold water and put them in the refrigerator.  I had about four of them so I could change them out during the race. 

As we got closer to the race site, we noticed several folks running about a mile from the starting line.  I got a little panicked, thinking that maybe I had the start time wrong. But, no. I guess they were just warming up before the start of the race.

Then we had to find the real start area….they had just moved it that morning! But not to worry, Frenchtown is a small town, and we had no problem finding the starting line; it was just a few blocks from where they had originally planned. 

After some back and forth debate with myself, I decided not to take my mp3 player, so I unpacked the extra batteries out of my clip-on running pocket.  It didn’t really lighten my pocket much, but I knew as I ate my LifeSavers and power gel it would get lighter. And once I was running and in a rhythm, the pocket wouldn’t bother me too much.

Of course I needed to use the restroom before I started, so we found the porta-johns, but I was amazed at the lines! This was the first year of the marathon, and they obviously hadn’t known how many porta-potties was the right number to have at the race start, as they grossly underestimated the need. 

T checked her watch, and there was no way I was going to be able to use the porta-potty.  Sure enough, Anders the owner of our local running store “The Runners Edge” came down yelling “5 minutes to the start!”  He said that they couldn’t delay the start, so just find a bush and go!  No one cares! 

I was ready to drop my shorts right then and there, but T being more modest and able to see, grabbed me and found a bush I could use for a little bit of privacy. But Anders was right, nobody cared…everyone was busy worrying about their own needs right before the cannon sounded. The question of hydration and survival of a 26 mile race in record-breaking heat was everyone’s primary concern that morning, not who was behind which bush to pee.  Runners definitely get more than a little self-involved immediately before a big race like this one.

So, relieved of the bladder weight, we jogged over to the start area, and I positioned myself just behind the four hour pace runners.  Looking back at it now, that was quite a lofty goal for me, and I should have been more realistic and got behind the 4 ½  hour pace runners.  Even in cooler weather I hadn’t ever run a four hour pace on any of my marathon training runs, so thinking that I could do it in record high temperatures was really pie in the sky thinking on my part.  But I was a newbie when it came to marathon running.  Lesson learned: big time. 

Before I knew it the cannon boomed, signifying the start of the race. . .

 How ’bout it?

-Vision Runner

We took a little hiatus, but we’re back!! And it’s just past our one year anniversary of the Runner Insight blog! Happy birthday to my blog!

So before we get to the rest of the marathon story, just wanted to remind you about my fundraising run. I’ve been chugging away, and I’ve done over 950 miles of my 1,222 mile run now. Everyone who has donated by the end of September (www.FirstGiving.com/VisionRunner) and shoots me a tweet on twitter (@RunnerInsight) or an email (t at RunnerInsight.com) with a message stating that they have an iPhone, will be in the running for a free download of the Runkeeper Pro. It’s a fitness activity tracking app for the iPhone 3G/3GS.

We’re probably going to have at least one other fabulous prize this month as we have some merchandise donations from a handful of businesses. So get your donation in, and be prepared for the fabulous prize wagon to pull up to your door!!

Next post: the continuation of my marathon story.

How ’bout it?

-Vision Runner

So the night before my full marathon I tried on my race day outfit: I was trying to decide which hat to wear. Should I wear the red “Runner’s Edge” one, or the gray Missoula Marathon running hat I just bought that day? When in doubt, I ask T. She is always a good sport, and I trust her fashion sense…and besides that, she has her eyesight. I live my life with the philosophy that it’s always good to have at least one person around who can actually see.

With a 6:30 a.m. start I wanted to be up by 4:30 as we had to drive about 20 miles to the start of the race, and after six or seven months of training for this thing, I wanted to be sure I was fully prepared and didn’t forget anything. I did manage to go to bed early, but with the heat, sleep was hard to come by. I did manage to get some sleep, but it was a fitful night.