{"id":49,"date":"2013-02-07T05:07:01","date_gmt":"2013-02-07T05:07:01","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.ramblingrunnergirl.com\/?p=49"},"modified":"2013-02-18T06:09:34","modified_gmt":"2013-02-18T06:09:34","slug":"a-love-of-running-is-born","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.ramblingrunnergirl.com\/?p=49","title":{"rendered":"A Love of Running is Born…"},"content":{"rendered":"

I don\u2019t remember exactly the way it happened, but when I was about 9, I started running with my dad.\u00a0 I remember lacing up my high-tops\u2026yes, really.\u00a0 And I distinctly remember running this one hill that wasn\u2019t far from our house, on South First St. in Kirksville, MO.\u00a0 That hill was a beast.\u00a0 And we did repeats.\u00a0 But for some reason, probably because it gave me the opportunity to hang out with my dad, I didn\u2019t mind the pain of hill repeats.\u00a0 Still to this very day, if I\u2019m ever feeling discouraged about anything, I go run the hardest hills I can find, and it makes me feel better. \u00a0\u00a0There is something about conquering a tough hill that truly makes me feel strong, like I can get through anything.\u00a0 I give my dad all the credit.\u00a0 Every time I run a hill, I can hear his voice saying, \u201cJust keep your eyes up and it doesn\u2019t matter how slow you go, just continue putting one foot in front of the other.\u201d\u00a0 He was teaching me about running, but at the same time, he was teaching me valuable lessons about life.<\/p>\n

Dad and I started doing 5ks not long after that.\u00a0 I usually walked away with an age group medal and sometimes a trophy for being the youngest runner.\u00a0 My friend Angela who started running with us was always annoyed by the fact that she was just a couple months older than me.\u00a0 It makes me happy that Ang is still running too, and a couple years ago, she ran her first marathon.<\/p>\n

I loved running with my dad.\u00a0 We didn\u2019t talk, but he was just there, right next to me, the whole time.\u00a0 He always let me set the pace, which was likely pretty inconsistent in those first few races.\u00a0 He taught me when to start turning up the heat at the end so that I left it all on the course in a sprint to the finish.\u00a0 And even though he could have pulled ahead of me, he never did.\u00a0 He always stayed one step behind me, and pushed me to the finish.<\/p>\n

By the time I got to high school, I\u2019d kind of had enough of running for a while.\u00a0 I ran one season of Cross Country my freshman year and then I said, \u201cDad, I think I\u2019m sick of this.\u00a0 I need a break.\u201d\u00a0 He said, \u201cOk, take a break.\u201d\u00a0 So, I did.\u00a0 I tried other things. I played catcher and outfielder for my high school softball team. \u00a0I went to college and took up rowing.\u00a0 By 2001, things had come full circle, and I was back to running again.<\/p>\n

In June of that year, I had just returned from a trip to Juarez, Mexico, where I had gone with a church group to build houses for a week.\u00a0 I had quit my job as a preschool teacher just before I left on that trip.\u00a0 I was living in Chicago at the time and the day after I got back I went for a 6 mile run along the lakefront.\u00a0 On that run, somewhere near Shedd Aquarium, I started thinking, I need something to focus my energy on while I spend this summer looking for a new job.\u00a0 Hmm, what about a marathon? Yeah, I could do that.<\/i>\u00a0 As soon as I got home, I started researching the Chicago Marathon. \u00a0That was back in the days when you could wait to register until a few months before the race.\u00a0 Now, if you don\u2019t sign up the day registration opens, you\u2019re not guaranteed an entry. I called my dad, told him what I was thinking, and he said, \u201cYep, I\u2019ll walk you through it\u201d.\u00a0 And so an adventure began\u2026<\/p>\n

Every Friday morning, I would do my long run.\u00a0 I slowly, gradually increased my mileage a little at a time.\u00a0 And every Friday morning, after I completed my run, I picked up the phone and called my dad to say, \u201cI did it.\u201d\u00a0 Occasionally, during those phone calls, my dad would have someone in his office, and I could hear him say, \u201cIt\u2019s my daughter.\u00a0 She\u2019s training for the marathon and she just ran 18 miles.\u201d\u00a0 His voice was dripping with pride and my heart would swell.<\/p>\n

One Tuesday morning, in September, I was out for just a short training run on a beautiful, blue sky day.\u00a0 I got back to my car, only to hear complete chaos on the radio.\u00a0 I couldn\u2019t figure out what had happened during those 3 short miles, but I knew it was something big.\u00a0 Then, they cut to the President speaking, and I slowly started to understand that while I had been out running, not just one, but two planes had flown into the World Trade Center in NYC.\u00a0 Like the rest of the world, I was in complete shock. \u00a0\u00a0And like almost everyone else I know, I spent the rest of that day in front of the TV with a tear-stained face watching the rest of the day\u2019s events unfold. Every year on September 11, I think back to where I was on the Chicago lakefront, when the world as we all knew it changed once again.<\/p>\n

As October 7, 2001 approached, my nerves started kicking into high gear.\u00a0 My parents had to be in Connecticut the night of October 6 for my brother\u2019s EMU football game against UCONN. \u00a0I was really scared that they wouldn\u2019t make it back to Chicago in time to see me somewhere on the course.\u00a0 My dad insisted that they would figure something out.\u00a0 So after my brother\u2019s game ended, they spent the night at the hotel closest to the Hartford airport and jumped on the first plane into Midway Sunday morning.\u00a0 As they were landing in Chicago, I was just beginning my first attempt at 26.2 miles.\u00a0 I had no idea if they had made it back yet or where I might see them, if at all.\u00a0 I just knew that I needed my dad.<\/p>\n

The course has changed somewhat over the past 11 years, but that year the middle of the course was in the heart of downtown Chicago on State Street.\u00a0 At about Mile 12, I was completely miserable.\u00a0 I hadn\u2019t really seen anyone I knew along the course and I was feeling somewhat abandoned. \u00a0I wasn\u2019t even halfway through, I could tell I had a bloody toe, and I really didn\u2019t want to keep going. \u00a0I was staring at my feet in some junky old Addidas that I really should have replaced prior to that event, and I started to pray.\u00a0 God, this sucks. I don\u2019t know if I can do this. Please let me see someone I know.\u00a0 And soon\u2026<\/i><\/p>\n

At precisely that instant, I lifted my head up and looked past a sea of runners and spectators several people deep.\u00a0 My eyes went straight to one face\u2026my dad\u2019s.\u00a0 It was like something out of a movie.\u00a0 The sun was shining right down onto him lighting him up in the midst of all those hundreds of thousands of people.\u00a0 I literally cut straight across the course and probably knocked a few people over in the process.\u00a0 I stood before my parents, jumping up and down, saying, \u201cI\u2019m right here!\u201d\u00a0 They couldn\u2019t believe I\u2019d found them.\u00a0 They gave me a quick high five and I was off again.\u00a0 I started to cry at the emotion of seeing them right when I needed it, which made me start hyper-ventilating.\u00a0 If you\u2019ve ever run a marathon, or any distance for that matter, you know how imperative breathing is.\u00a0 I calmed myself down, got my breathing back under control and continued on my way.\u00a0 My folks went to other spots to try to find me, but that was the only time I got to see them on the course that day.\u00a0 And, sadly, that is the only time I\u2019ve seen my dad during any of my 7 marathons.\u00a0 Less than 2 months later, a very sudden heart attack took him from us in the middle of the night.\u00a0 But that marathon, and that summer of weekly long run calls to my dad, was a gift that I will cherish forever.\u00a0 My dad got me back to my love of running. \u00a0I think he knew that I was going to need running in my life to get me through the hard times. \u00a0He gave me the passion, the knowledge, the tools, the drive, the determination and the confidence.\u00a0 He was my coach, my cheerleader, my running partner.<\/p>\n

I had the privilege of running one very last 5k with my dad during that summer of 2001.\u00a0 In August, we signed up for the Bison Stampede in New Buffalo, MI.\u00a0 It was our first, and only, race together in over a decade. \u00a0It was a pretty uneventful race, and I didn\u2019t do all that well, but it was a good way to work some of the kinks out before the big one.\u00a0 As we toed the start line, I knew I had gained some speed on him over the years, so I said, \u201cDad, I need to run my race, so I\u2019m probably not going to stick with you today\u201d.\u00a0 He said, \u201cYep, I know.\u00a0 Do what you need to do.\u201d \u00a0He knew I was finally ready to run on my own. \u00a0And he knew it was time to let me.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"A<\/a>

A love of running is born. Thanks Dad…<\/p><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I don\u2019t remember exactly the way it happened, but when I was about 9, I started running with my dad.\u00a0 I remember lacing up my high-tops\u2026yes, really.\u00a0 And I distinctly remember running this one hill that wasn\u2019t far from our house, on South First St. in Kirksville, MO.\u00a0 That hill was a beast.\u00a0 And we […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"aside","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[6,9,10],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-49","post","type-post","status-publish","format-aside","hentry","category-bringthetears","category-lessonsfromrunning","category-memorablerunningmoments","post_format-post-format-aside"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p4eO4v-N","_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.ramblingrunnergirl.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/49","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.ramblingrunnergirl.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.ramblingrunnergirl.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.ramblingrunnergirl.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.ramblingrunnergirl.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=49"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"http:\/\/www.ramblingrunnergirl.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/49\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":119,"href":"http:\/\/www.ramblingrunnergirl.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/49\/revisions\/119"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.ramblingrunnergirl.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=49"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.ramblingrunnergirl.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=49"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.ramblingrunnergirl.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=49"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}