Top of Utah, or Yes, Indeed, I Ran a Marathon

Who would have believed it? Certainly not me. I remember some very specific discussions about how running a marathon was NOT on my to-do list. Lots of half marathons? Sure. But a full marathon? 26.2 miles? Come on. Why would I ever want to do something so physically exhausting? And isn't it bad for your body? And surely it would never be right to take so much time away from my family to train.

So how did I find myself on a school bus leaving Logan at 5:20 on Saturday morning with four friends to meet our marathoning destinies?

Well, it just so happens that I made this little goal at the beginning of the year to run 1000 miles in 2009. This is not really that many miles. It's only 20 miles a week, which is 20 miles a week more than I ran 4 years ago, but still. I've been staying pretty close to my weekly mileage goal, especially with training for the Salt Lake Half and then the Wasatch Back. But what next? Liz decided it was Top of Utah. She tried to talk me into it. I thought about it. I kicked it around. I decided against it. And once I decided against it, I changed my mind.

Reasons:

1. I was already high in my mileage for long runs to train for Ragnar.
2. Training for a marathon would assure that I met my 1000 mile goal.
3. I would have been jealous of Liz and Bliss training together while I did measly 6 mile Saturday runs.
4. I needed something to get my mind off of the moving thing.
3. God told me to.

Yeah, He really did, but that's a post for another time.

Here are things I learned while training:

1. I'm slower than Liz and Bliss.
2. I really like meeting new people while running with them. They become close friends in the space of one 16 miler.
3. No subject is off-limits as running talk. And running talk turns way too often to poop. (That's for you, L.)
4. You can get used to getting up at 6 to run, even on weekdays.
5. I am more capable of doing hard things than I ever thought I was.
6. Immodium is my best non-human running friend. 2 chewable tablets (yuck) 2 hours before each long run with 1/2 a banana, 1/4 of a bagel, and a big glass of water: totally works. I just put it all on my nightstand, set my alarm for 4:00, woke up and ate while David groaned "What are you DOING?" and cheered for victory at the end of all my long runs. I know. Way more than you wanted to know. But it's a public service announcement for all of you aspiring marathoners. You'll thank me.
7. Yes on Bodyglide. Yes on sunscreen. Yes on Sports Beans. And by the end, even yes on Gus (plural of Gu, not Gus the mule.)
8. You know how you would think you'd lose weight when you're running almost 40 miles a week? Yeah. You'd be wrong. Liz lost weight. I gained what she lost. It's very sick and wrong. It's a cosmic joke. And yet there it is. I'm warning you. (Interestingly, although it bothered me that I gained weight, I was so proud of what my body was accomplishing every week that I cared less than I would have expected.)
9. You will be struck with some non-imaginary ailment in the week or two before the race. Liz warned us. We did not believe her. But every one of us had some terrible, tragic pain to deal with that looked like it might end our race dreams. I had the WORST BACK PAIN of my life in the week before the race. I was referred to a physical therapist by an ultra-runner friend and he worked a miracle. On Tuesday, I really thought I wouldn't be able to run, and by Saturday morning (after doing the stretches he recommended) I had NO back pain. None. Hooray for Troy Marsh.

So a few short months after deciding that yes, indeed, I'd run that crazy race, Bliss, Liz & I drove up to Logan with Bliss' family. We stayed overnight with Bliss' mom and dad. Our friend Jenn joined us at the house for a big fat slumber party, and we picked up our friend Jena at her hotel dark and early the next morning.

And here's how it went:

The race started at Hardware Ranch, up Blacksmith Fork Canyon. The first 14 miles or so were downhill, but not terribly steep. The canyon was gorgeous. The leaves were just starting to turn, the weather was perfect, the river was lovely. It was a fantastic beginning. I had planned to really pace myself. I knew I'd be tempted to push the pace since it was downhill (and I love downhill), but I also knew I'd have 12 more miles to go once the downhill ended. So within the first half mile, I waved goodbye to the rest of the girls and settled in with Mr. iPod to run the duration of the race.

The first 18 miles were actually really great. My halfway mark was a minute faster than my half marathon PR. I loved seeing Liz's husband Jeff and her boys at mile 14. They gave me an emotional boost and I felt great. I stayed mostly under 9:30 for each mile, with a couple in the 9:40 range. and a few in the 9:10-15 range. Mile 18-21 were harder. I ended up passing Jena, whose knee was starting to really give out. I ran with her for a little while, but ended up pushing ahead.

I drank water at every stop, so I felt hydrated throughout. I ate a sports bean at every mile that wasn't a water stop and ended up having 3 gus (at miles 9, 19, and 22) and a few chunks of banana. (I know. You totally don't care about what I ate. Unless you're about to run your first marathon, in which case this information is ridiculously fascinating.) All was going as planned.

And then came the wall. I mean, you hear about The Wall. And then you Experience The Wall. I think it was when I got to 21 and I realized that I still had more than 5 miles to go, and that would likely be close to an hour more running based on how I was feeling. That just sounded awful. Terrible. So hard. And so it was. 22 and 23 were dreadfully hard. I just felt so so drained. I ended up walking two or three times per mile, but by 24, I realized that starting to run again after walking was harder than just continuing to run. I dropped my pace significantly, still walked through the water stops, but tried to just put one foot in front of the other.

The world shrinks at this point. The world becomes you, your pain, and your desire to end the pain. I just focused on wanting to see David, to see my kids, to see the finish line.

I know! Doesn't it sound fun?!?! It really was!!! (OK, it wasn't fun. But it was remarkable.)

And then, after thinking it would never come, there was the finish line. It was there. In front of me. Way too far away, but it was there. And I made it. I powered through and burst into tears at the end. My music was blaring so I didn't even hear my family and Liz and Jeff screaming for me. David says I just looked mad. I wasn't mad. I was just miserable.

I had really only had one main goal. I had really wanted to stay under 10 minute miles throughout. That's not impressive when you're Liz (4 hours and 6 seconds!) or Bliss (4 hours and 21 seconds!), but it felt like it would push me but be barely do-able. And when I looked at my watch when it was all over (26.44 miles, according to Mr. Garmin. Darned tangents.), it said that my overall pace was 9:59. I felt like I was handed a gift from Heavenly Father. (Again, a post for another time.)

I cried when I saw David. I cried when I realized I was moving this week and wouldn't live across the street from my Liz. And I smiled a lot. A lot.

Because you know what? I just ran a marathon.

Yup. Me. I did that.

Well, me and Liz and Bliss and Jenn and Jenna. And you know what?

It was awesome.








Final Stats: Time: 4:23:37. Place: 1010/2027 overall, 393/1009 women. Satisfied? Yes.

A Decade of Drama

Sophie made her entrance into the world at 9:17 pm on 9-17-99. She arrived 45 minutes after our arrival at the hospital. No time for drugs. No time for preparation. Just time to put on the Mozart CD, for David to grab the camera from the car, and for me to scream a bunch.


I don't know how the world turned so long without her in it.




Sophie has been begging (without cessation) for months (for years) to get her ears pierced. I've been planning to let her get her ears pierced on her tenth birthday. I wanted to surprise her by taking her out of school for lunch and a kid date and then the ear-piercing-extravaganza. Unfortunately, she pushed my buttons so badly one day ("WHY can't I have my ears pierced? WHY? Just give me three reasons!!! OK, give me three more! Those aren't good enough! Why don't you trust me?") that I spilled the beans just so she would let it rest. She was very excited. She let it rest. I wish I had told her months ago.

I stole her away from school and she chose Subway for lunch.



(I love these kids. How cute are they?)

Then it was off to Claire's. (Does anyone else think it's strange that most of us get our ears pierced at a tacky accessory store?)





She chose earrings with her birthstone (sapphire) and was very brave.

We brought brownies back to school. She chose pulled pork sandwiches for dinner and her traditional choice of cake (poppy seed bundt cake) for the cake and ice cream festivities that night.



I've said it before and I'll say it again: Life would be deadly boring without my Sophie. I love her intensity, her bright mind, her lovely voice, her sweetness with Ben, her questions about life. She brightens the space she occupies. The world changed for the better a decade ago, and I've been blessed to witness it.

V for Victory

I did it.

We did it.

Cousins

Mike, Bri and Celia came out for a short visit this weekend. We had Sunday dinner together (last family dinner in our house. Sigh.) and realized that we had all ten Youngberg cousins together, so of course we had to try to take a picture for mom and dad.



Yeah. Better luck next time.

Other (slightly better) pictures of the family extravaganza:

Ensign Peak

In all my years in Salt Lake City, I've never hiked to Ensign Peak. It's a perfect kid hike: not too long, but with a payoff at the end. I can't believe we've never hiked it! Our primary presidency set up a family hike for last Saturday morning. It was a perfect day, the kids were happy, and Ben hiked the entire thing, which meant that we were far far behind the rest of the group.

It was a bittersweet morning. Friday night we found out that the sale of the house will likely go through. I was still in denial all morning, but the word was out and it was sad sad sad.

But the hike was lovely, I got to be with people I love, and Ben was so so fun, so that was all good.

The girls waving at us. Yes. We were that far behind.

My trio. Josh was sick.

I love my valley. Sigh. How can I leave it?

Grandview 2nd Ward

The Hughes


Marianne and Ava Teerlink


Sophie, Jasmine, Isabelle

Remembering

On September 11, 2001, the world stopped. It stopped for a long time, and when it started its rotation again, haltingly, bit by bit, we were all different.

I was different.

I loved my country more.

I loved my countrymen more.

I shed more tears more easily.

I recognized the fragility of each day.

I loved more deeply.

After spending that morning watching the horrific images again and again and again, I left my sweet and safe and protected little home to pick up Josh from kindergarten. My neighbor Sarka came out at the same time and we hugged each other tightly and wept together.

Sarka and her lovely family had moved in across the street earlier that year. We had greeted them with Otter Pops and excitement to welcome more children onto the street. We became fast friends, and I was fascinated by the stories she told. She and her husband were both born and raised in Afghanistan, both forced out of Afghanistan for political reasons. Sarka's story is like an Afghan Sound of Music. She and her family, both immediate and extended, left their home with dishes on the table and walked to Pakistan to escape. They were in danger because of her father's role in government. Her husband left because as a young man, he worked on an underground radio station and held "radical" views, views that were "dangerous".

My oldest and her youngest would begin kindergarten together in the fall. Our children loved to play together. Josh adored Sarka's wonderful cooking. Sarka helped watch the kids on some of my teaching days. We attended Ramadan celebrations. They gave us Christmas cards. Sarka spread love. And flatbread. Oh, Sarka's flatbread. Once she realized how much I adored it, there were never many days between gifts of that manna.

On that terrible morning, neither of us realized that Afghanistan would become the focus of the nation's rage, that troops would invade so quickly, that their relatives would once again be living in a war zone. All we knew was that evil had been done, and we mourned together.

Loving Sarka made it so easy to let go of any prejudice I might have had in those days after 9-11. When I would read stories of Muslim men being detained at airports, or being ripped from their families and taken to prison for questioning, I would think of Sarka, her husband and son. Our views on life, our love of God, our desire to raise good and kind families in a holy way...all the same. There was no hatred in that home. There was no evil in that home. When I would overhear negative conversations about the "dangerous religion" of Islam, I had plenty to say. I still have plenty to say.

When I remember that tragic day, I remember it with so much sadness, but the sadness is tempered with gratitude. I am grateful for the lessons I learned from my dear neighbor and friend. I believe that love builds bridges over deep chasms, that loving those around us in the small daily ways of bread and Otter Pops teaches us tolerance and respect and understanding. I hope it's a lesson that I never forget and that my children will always have wrapped around them like Sarka's embrace.

It's All Stupid. Except Glee. And David

So I have this post idea about the whole Obama/Hitler thing. It keeps rearing its ugly head in my brain. I still have much to say about this, but I'm not sure I want to spew more political stuff into the blogosphere, especially after the last comment I got that suggests that we have a bunch of modern Gadianton robbers planning the overthrow of all that is holy and that maybe I should decide to stand up for what is right and good. So there's a chance I'll just bore my friends and David talking about the stupid Hitler comparison until I work it out of my system, but there's also a chance I'll write something about it. I can't make any promises. But Obama = Hitler? Beyond stupid.

I also can't figure out why I'm gaining so darned much weight while training for this darned marathon. Stupid stupid stupid. Yes, it could have something to do with cookies, but for heaven's sake, I gained a pound the week I ran 38 miles. Stupid stupid stupid. Did I already say that? This post should make it clear that everything feels stupid right now.

Josh is sick now (joining Kate and Ben. Also, Sophie tried to convince me that she was sick yesterday). The one good thing about that is that I don't have to drive him to Bountiful tonight for soccer practice. One of the stupid things about this is that I'm supposed to go to the symphony gala tomorrow night. Guess I may not be going to the symphony gala tomorrow night.

And stupid house-selling stuff...no more to say on that, but WAY stupid stupid stupid.

On the other hand, Glee was hysterical last night. And David manages to still like me, even when I'm ranting about stupid things or leaving paper piles in my used-to-be clean office. Thank goodness for my David. He is one bright spot in an otherwise stupid universe.

I wish I could talk about the phenomenal poetry I've been reading, or art I've been creating, or people I've been helping or something inspiring, but I just am not feeling like doing much. Especially figuring out what to make for dinner, which I really should be getting on the table right this minute.

Stupid.