The Big 10 Tribute

Last week, I looked over my training schedule and realized I hit the double digits this week. I spent 3 days stressing about the mileage and the weather. I looked up weather reports, probably 10 times a day. I researched when and if to take Gu or as I took, a Hammer gel. I made sure I had all my wet and winter gear ready to go along with charging my mp3 player for two full days. I mapped out my full route after deciding where I'm meeting up with my running buddy and how far she wanted to run. After all that prepping, it hit me...it's the anniversary of J.J.'s death. If you don't know about this anniversary, please feel free to read my post, "Remembering Why". Instead of getting sad, which will happen whether I like it or not, I remembered last year's tribute run, and decided to make the big ten miler this year's tribute to J.J.

Sunday morning, I could not sleep past 6 a.m. I think I finally fell asleep around midnight or 12:30 a.m. the night before. Not sure if it's nerves or excitement, but this has been the pattern lately before my long runs. The weather was definitely Texas' introduction to winter. Cold, windy, rainy, and in the low 40s. I layered up, got all prepped, and at 7:15 drove to my planned start place. My planned route had me starting at the north branch of our library, and taking a little bit more than half of my "running buddy" route. It was about 2.5 miles, and honestly, it wasn't that bad as long as the rain didn't blow directly into the side of my face. Right after the first mile or mile and a half, I misjudged a puddle, and got my feet soaked up to my ankles. I almost ran back to my car for dry socks, but decided against it since I knew I was running in 8.5 more miles in the rain.

I met my running buddy at her house. Actually I stopped at the sidewalk to stretch my legs because they were feeling tight and out she comes through her garage door. After we laughed and decided we were certifiably insane, we took off for 5 miles. Yes, it was cold, and yes, we laughed and chatted like it was a sunny 60° day, and our pace was faster than normal. We were also in awe of the man who passed us on the same loop. She even had to remind me to take my Gu. I didn't feel like I needed it, but later, I was glad I did. Once we got back to her house, we were pumped and feeling all sorts of hard core badassery.

After we chatted for a couple of seconds, and I promised to call when I made it home, I headed back to my car. I did just fine and even got some weird looks. I had to stop once to judge where in the world I was going to dodge that big puddle again. The streets were getting a little busier than earlier, and I didn't feel comfortable running on the street in that place. I ran in the grass and the puddles still came up to my ankles, but I was already soaked to the bone, and only a mile at most away from finishing the run.

I trudged, not ran, the remaining of the route. I became chilled to the core. I debated thoughts of walking, but I knew I could not. This physical challenge was a representation of my mental challenge. I topped a little hill and saw my car. Elation came flowing through my mind, and I pushed...hard. The rest was literally downhill. I sprinted to the end point and smiled through sweat, rain, and even a few tears that I made the Big 10. This Big 10 in particular.

How 9/11 Affects Me

I thought about writing a post about 9/11 yesterday, but I could not. Yet, I thought perhaps I should because 9/11 affected every single one of us. Some more than me, some not so much. I will not say where I was and what I was doing. That's not what I want to write about. I will write why 9/11 is such a personal and conflicted day for me.

First off, 9/11 was always a somber day of remembrance, yet 5 years ago,

I gave birth to my youngest son, the Cy-Guy. 9/11 became a day to celebrate life. The life anew that continues on; the life that proves we are all still humans and full of perseverance. The Cy-Guy's birthday always makes me shift perspectives on a day where I could be quiet and sad. Now, I smile on 9/11 and realize that I am a better person because of everything, and yet while we remember, we push on, we live.

Secondly, 9/11 took an entirely different meaning on December 4, 2008.

My stepbrother, John Jared Savage was killed in Iraq defending our freedoms, MY freedoms that we love and hold dear. He was killed by an IED or plainly put, when a suicide bomber in an SUV broadsided his armored vehicle in Mosul. Yet, he was doing what he loved when he died...serving his country. 9/11 now takes a very personal remembrance for me. I try to not feel anger or sadness, which is extremely difficult, especially on 9/11. I try to live my life doing what I love...helping others, embracing my love of sports and running, caring for my family.

Yesterday, I watched the three hours worth of ceremonies on T.V., and even though sad, I played with my now five-year-old son, played my scheduled soccer game, and before the day's end, I hugged and held my family close. I lived my day, the 10th anniversary of 9/11, the day that changed us all forever, the way my brother died...doing what we love.

Running the Hard One

Today I ran the hardest run I've ever probably run thus far. Harder than fighting varying temps in Texas, harder than running injured, harder than that first run when I started running. Today was my tribute run for my step brother, J.J. Savage. It's been two years since he was killed in Iraq, and I felt that a longer run in the midst of my own personal roller coaster would be the only appropriate way to honor him today. I had planned out a 5 mile run for today on a new extended route bringing me into unfamiliar territory of both environment and endurance.

I started out just fine; glad of my decision to run today. My mind cleared as always and about mile 2, the emotions took over. I fought tears for a tenth of a mile and then crumbled, literally, on the side of the road. The feelings of loss and sadness for our family overtook me to a point to where I could not take yet another step. After wiping tears away and sitting in the sun, the wind whispered to me..."Get up. Get up and run."

And I did. I got up, took one step and another. I realized that with every step I ran, I embodied our family surviving, moving on despite the loss, despite the sadness. In a sense, this run was not just a tribute to him, his service, his courage. It was also a run to our family and every single person who knew and loved him that keep living life, just as he would want.

Remembering Why

Over the last few months, I have neglected running (and writing) on a regular basis, making excuses and throwing self pity parties. This last week or two, I have eased back into running again. Fighting excuses daily; getting angry when I do not push myself beyond the mental wall. Yet, today, through a friendly "checking on you" text, I was abruptly reminded why I started running in the first place.

On December 4, 2008, my stepbrother, John Jared Savage was killed in Mosul, Iraq, just a mere four days before coming home for good. When we should have been celebrating, we were shedding tears of loss and grief. When we should have been hugging him and thanking God for his safe return, we were mourning over a closed casket and wondering why God let this happen.

His death happened to make us stronger people. His death made me a stronger person. His death has pushed me every step I have run since then. His death has made me prove to myself that I can do things I thought not possible. In a sense, his death gave me a way to find myself, find my life.