The most important measure

I woke up this morning and my little spirit said, "Um, I think we're smaller today."

So, this morning, with the power out (holy mackanoly we had a wicked wind storm last night and this morning), I got up in the dark, found my flashlight, and went to take a shower.

But, before I did, I decided to step on the scale.

I'm not one of those chronic weighers.
I don't obsess about the number.
I don't check my weight every day.
I sometimes don't even do it every week.

But, bottomline, the number is part of the reflection of the journey and it's a measurer of progress. And this morning, I wanted a measure.

I stepped on the digital scale in the dark and stepped off to shine the light on the number (who needs the .7oz of the flashlight effecting the scale?)

NO. WAY.

I stepped back on to clear it and then try it again because I just couldn't believe it.
It was the same number the second time.

YES. WAY.

I saw a number I seriously have not seen since the mid-90s (right after I came home from my mission...a mission that was really good for my spirit but really bad for my body...and yet I was still smaller then than I've been the last 16 years).

I've never talked about my numbers here.
I've never wanted it to be about that.

But, I have lost 11 more pounds since I started boot camp.
Eleven.
Since November 14th.

Even with a back injury.
Even with some discouragement.
Even with not being able to do all that I wanted my body to do.

But, I want this and I'm food journaling and I'm making good choices.
I'm staying away from sugar and I'm drinking water and I'm getting sleep.
I'm believing and I'm trusting and I'm moving forward.
And. I'm. praying.

And I feel amazing.

And I love that I felt amazing before I even got on the scale this morning.
My body knew.
My spirit knew.

And what I knew is that I'm doing this.
I really really am.

The scale just kind of verified that fact.

If anyone ever says you can't pray your way to where you want to be, they are dead wrong. My prayers have changed the last few weeks and I'm telling you, prayer works.

The scale is one measurer.
The way I feel is the other one...the most important one.

One year later...

I can't let today pass without acknowledging the significance of this day.

One year ago this very day I excitedly (and anxiously) checked in for my two week stay at Fitness Ridge.
I said "I'm ready".
But, I had no idea what was ahead for me...only that my life was getting ready to change.
Forever.

I talked to someone today who hadn't seen me in over a year.
"Nothing about you is the same. Nothing."

And while I don't think that's entirely true, it would be correct to say that so much has changed that it probably appears that nothing is the same. And it's kind of nice for the reminder that I really am different.

The past 12 months have been the most satisfying, most gut-wrenching, most faithful, most faithless, best, hardest, sweetest 12 months of my life.

I feel like I woke up to all the possibilities of my life.
And it was God that woke me up.

"Him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think,
according to the power that worketh in us."
(Ephesians 3:20)

I will forever look back on this past year as the time my life turned the most significant of corners. I know it will not be the best year OF my life (because there are really amazing things up ahead, my friends) but I am quite certain I will be able to say it was the best year FOR my life.

Quite certain.

And while I realize there are still 5 weeks left of 2011, tonight I can't help but want to celebrate what 2011 and this anniversary have already brought to my life.

I trained for and ran a half-marathon.
I got a job promotion.
I became a "summer mom".
I started dating again (even had three dates with three different boys one week in June. I still giggle about that but never could bring myself to blog about it or any of the dating, frankly.)

And tonight, on this anniversary, I am deeply grateful for:
A Father in Heaven who is patient.
A Savior who's grace makes change possible.
The Holy Spirit who reveals things as they really are.
A body that works and heals and works even harder.
Incredibly supportive friends who believed when I couldn't (and still believe).
My family that loves and prays and understands canceled trips.
Mentors who listen and correct and pave the way.
Blog readers who I've never met but are ridiculously good at encouragement.

My little heart is overwhelmed with gratitude as I look back on how far I've come since that fateful day a year ago this very day.
And my little heart is confident and excited as I look forward to what is waiting.

Yes, I still have work to do.
I still have things to do.

But, I'm ready...again.

and though I'm not where I said I'd be or exactly where I wanted to be, I'm celebrating how far I've come. these pics are a good reminder...

(This was me a year ago.)

(This is me now.)

(a year ago.)

(now.)

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO ME!

Real Proud

Day 2 of "hell week" this morning wasn't any easier.

Granted, it didn't start with 150 push-ups, but still...I did enough lunges and squats to last me a lifetime (oh, how I hate lunges and squats).

But, I did everything I was asked to do.

And I didn't complain.

NOT. ONCE.

Towards the end of the workout, my Instructor walked over and said, "You married, Christensen?"

"No, I'm not."

"Too bad. You're husband would be real proud of you this morning. Real proud."

I shared this on facebook this morning and got 69 "likes".
I didn't even know I had 69 friends.
But, what's not to love about this?
How cute is that Instructor for being proud of me...
and wanting me to know my hubby would be proud of me too?

And of course my hubby would be.
I'm doing this thing.
This really really really hard thing.
I'm overcoming my crazy head and a lifetime of not-great habits.
I'm conquering my demons and proving long-held beliefs to be false.
I'm living true to the real me.
How could he NOT be proud of my adorable hard-working self?
So, of course he would be.

But, you know what's great about this next phase of my journey?

I'm not doing this for my future Mr.
I'm not doing this for my future kiddos.
I'm not doing this for the people who might be inspired by my story.
I'm not doing this to fit into that cute little Doris Day dress sitting in my closet.
I'm not doing this anymore for anything or anyone else.

Anyone other than me.

This is for me.
FINALLY.

Because I am deserving of living the rest of my life in this amazing body
that runs
and heals
and works
and serves
and loves.

I'm worth this effort.
I'm worth this time.
And I can see that the Lord has always intended me to be this woman that I'm turning into.

THAT is why I'm doing this.

And while I know that ultimately it will bless my future Mr. and my future kiddos,
And it might still help anyone who might be inspired by my story,
And while I'm pretty sure I'm going to look 1950s-sexy in that cute little Doris Day number,

Right now?

Right now this is for ME.
Just. Me.

And I'm not gonna lie...
I'm real proud of the fact that doing it for ME is enough.

Real. proud.
(and real grateful too.)

(image found here)

oh. my. [heavenly] hell.

"PT Christensen," he said at 5am this morning.

"Yes, Instructor?"

"Did you bring your towel?"

Oh, shoot. They were serious about the towel thing. Who knew they'd be serious about bringing a towel?

"No. I forgot."
Truth was I didn't really forget. I just didn't think I really would need it and I chose not to bring it. Heaven forbid I should take the five extra seconds to grab a towel.

"100 push ups."

"Um, I'm sorry...what?"

"Drop down. Count 'em out."

I would have laughed if I haven't been in trouble by the time I yelled out "23".
ONE HUNDRED PUSH-UPS just for forgetting a towel?
Are you kidding me?
I seriously knew I'd never get to 100.
But, there wasn't a choice.

And I did it.

"PT Christensen, show me your food journal."
Good thing I was honest. I'll surely get points for honesty.

"Wow. someone had a last supper."
It was true. I had. I don't know what came over me. But, I thoroughly enjoyed it.

"30 more."
Um, he remembers I just did 100 of these, right?

"But, I was honest. Doesn't that count for anything?" I almost whined (but not totally.)

"30. Count 'em off."

Then...
"10 more."
Then...
"10 more."
(and that was just for eating a kids bean & cheese burrito from Whole Foods. Come on!)

And thus started Day 1 of "hell week".

After the ONE HUNDRED FIFTY push-ups this morning (all before 5:15am, thank you very much), came the 30 lb. vest that is worn every day of "hell week" while you go through the circuit training.

And it was "upper arm" day.

I hated it.

And yet, I loved it.
LOVED. IT.

Something happened to me this morning.

Amidst the 30-lb vest
and the military face paint
and the abs that thought they were going to cramp on me forever
and the "Instructor" talk
and the shaking arms...

Amidst it all, I. LOVED. IT.

And I felt like me again.

Isn't that crazy?
"Me" now feels like a girl who is burning calories and doing jumping jack push-ups (45 more of them. I am not kidding) and not saying "I can't" and not complaining.
"Me" is just the girl who works hard and gets 'er done.
And loves doing it.

I have a really unbelievable goal ahead of me.
I'm going to be in the best shape of my life by my 40th birthday.

And today for the first time in a really long time, I KNOW...
not just think...
not just believe...
I KNOW...
I got this.

I totally got this.

Not on my own, mind you.
And I am totally aware of that fact.

Because to see how my head has changed back to "me" the last few days, well...
It's a bit of a miracle to me.
It really really is.

And that makes this "hell week" pretty darn heavenly.
(who knew I'd be so grateful for something called "hell week"?!)

(image found here)

the fire inside me

DAY 7: Hard. Things.

So, last night I hopped on facebook and had a message waiting for me from a new friend (one of those friend of a friend who is also the sister-in-law of another friend...I love small worlds). She had attached the above pic. She saw it and thought of me.

I'll love her forever for that.
(Thank you, Misty my friend. THANK. YOU.)

We are less than 14 weeks from a really significant milestone in my little life and there is this fire inside me...the fire I felt last December...the fire I felt leading up to the half.

It's back.
And it's burning bright.

I'm starting a 6-week boot camp next week (like one of those crazy 5am every morning military-style camps).
I'm connecting in December for a couple of days with the trainer who changed my life last year.
I'm registered for another half marathon in January.

And I'll be turning [gulp] 40 in less than 14 weeks.
And my spirit wants to live in a stronger better body than I've ever known.
And my spirit really deserves to get to do that.

This is the hardest thing I have ever done.
Hardest. Thing. Ever.
But, I've learned I can do hard things.
I've done hard before.
I can do it again.

And this fire inside me?
Well, it requires I do this hard thing now.

Yes, it will hurt.
Yes, it will take time (13 weeks to be exact).
Yes, it will require dedication...

BUT...

I will do this and it will be oh so worth it.

Feeling so darn grateful the fire came back.
Pretty darn grateful indeed.

(Hang on, friends. THIS is going to be crazy. Crazy good.)

Crossing the bridge

I was so excited to wake up this morning and take a run on the trail at the Cook Inlet in Anchorage.

But, as I've eluded to before, I've seen way too many episodes of Law & Order and when all was said and done, when I got down to the trail and saw the corners and the trees and the crazy man in the workers jumpsuit standing around for no apparent reason...well, it proved to be way too much for my wild imagination.

So, I left the trail and ran down 3rd Avenue and went across town.
And there she was.
A bridge.

I don't know why but I've always wanted to run across a bridge.
Is that so silly?
It might be silly.
But, this morning, I did it.

I had already been running for a couple of miles and I was pretty tired. The bridge didn't look terribly long and I told myself I could run across it. But, it was longer than it looked.

And I wanted to stop.

So, true to my form, I just made myself a little goal.
"Just run til the end of this next song or until the end of the bridge, whichever comes first."

I can do that.
I can always do just that.

I ran across to one end and back to the other this morning.
And it felt amazing.

And I love that I have yet...in 9 months...I have yet to not keep a commitment like that to myself. I have never let myself stop short of the place I said I would run to. Sure, sometimes I have had to adjust it...but in the moment I think I'm going to die, I still make myself go "just a little further".

And it always works.

If I think about the whole run...if I think too much about "the end"...I get overwhelmed and I just can't do it.

But, when I tell myself I just have to take one more step
or run to one more sign
or run through one more song

Well, then,
I can always do it.
I always can.

I do not know how this journey of mine is going to play out months from now.
But, I'm not too worried about that.
Because I know I'm doing it and I know it's going to play out.

I have no idea how I'm going to look or how I'm going to feel.
I have no idea, really, how much harder it is going to get.

But, none of that matters either.

All that matters, at least for me, at least for now, is getting myself to the next run...to the next day...to the next time I say "no" to ice cream (it's always about the ice cream, isn't it, Laurel? Yep. sure is.)...to the next thing that feels hard.

I have no expectations about anything beyond the week I am in.
None.

And as a girl who is a planner and likes to plan and be prepared, well, this is not an easy place for me to live.

But, it is what is working for me.
And so I'm going with it.

I'm committed to living and loving the space that I'm in.
I'm committed to trusting for just a few more steps or for just one more song.
I'm committed to believing I can do anything just for one more week.
I'm committed to having faith through one more prayer.

As for whatever comes next?
Well, I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.

the true me

Oh, I needed this run.
I even needed the hills the first three miles (I'm sorry, but who plans a 10K with hills on the first three miles?!?)
I needed it to be hard.
I needed to question whether or not I could do it.
I needed to think that if I stopped at all to walk for a bit, I wouldn't be able to run again. And I needed to find out I was wrong about that.
(oh, and I needed a 10K to be only 6.2 miles and not 6.4 like I thought.)

And I needed my dear friend Kindee, who in addition to being married to one of my favorite people (and ridiculously talented photographer which clearly has rubbed off on her so she could get that awesome shot), stayed with me the whole time and was the "you can do it" "you've got this" "just that next sign" or "just to the top of that hill" "let's pass that person" voice in my head.

This morning was perfect.

And I got just the reminders I needed.

-Whatever you do, don't look back.
-When you see a hill up ahead, keep your eyes on your feet.
-Once you've committed to go to the next sign or run through the next song, don't even think about coming up short. Keep your promises to yourself.
-You always have a little more to give the last little bit. So sprint.

I love that this morning, I did what I didn't want to do and got exactly what I needed. I sensed in a very personal way that God is pleased...so pleased...with how far I've come. And I know I'm closer to the real me than I have ever been.

And the real me is a girl who is strong.
The real me is a girl who doesn't quit.
The real me is a girl who doesn't give up.
The real me is a girl who's going to give this everything I have the next four months.

The real me runs.
The real me believes.
The real me trusts.

That's me.
The real me.
The true me.

And I'm doing this.

1/2 of a 1/2

This is what I'm doing tomorrow.
If I can do 13.1, surely I can do 6.4...right?

For some reason it feels bigger than that.
Because while my body needs to be pushed,
my head needs it more.

My head needs to know I've still got this.
I need to feel like I'm totally back in the game.
I need to get over the "struggling".
I still want this.
I really do.

And I have to remember that I hadn't ran my first full mile before January.
And now look at me.

Yep, I have to remember that.

I'm a runner.
I'm *still* a runner.

I am.


(image found here)

struggling

Did I just say that out loud?
Is my mic on?

I had dinner with a dear friend tonight who pointed out what I've been feeling for a couple of weeks.

My life right now?
My 2011?
Pretty. darn. amazing.

When I look back on this year and see all that God brought together and all that I got to do and all that I overcame and all that I conquered and all that I received...

Well, when I look back, I think I'll be as blown away by the perfection of it all then as I am now.

BUT.

This big thing I am trying to do (this journey I am on) tonight feels...
well...
big.

Almost too big.

I feel weak when I run.
My treadmill mojo feels off.

I know. I know.
I've come SO far.
I've already made great progress.
I've already mastered a lot.

And I'm not giving up.
I'm not quitting.
I'm not done.
I promise.

But, I have to be honest and just say it out loud.
This.
Is.
Hard.

It's the hardest thing I've ever done.
I knew it would be.
And it has proven to be.
But, I thought I was in enough of a zone that it would just be smooth sailing at this point.

It's not.
And I'm not as far along as I should be.
And I am fighting this little thing in my head that is tired.
And old habits are just sitting at the door waiting for me to let my guard down.
And my spirit wants to take a break.

I'm struggling.
I just am.
I feel like I'm fighting my body a bit.
And maybe it's just tonight (but it's been a few days).
Maybe I'll feel strong again in the morning.

But, just in case I don't...

Give it to me.
Your best thought/scripture/quote/"attagirl"

I could use it tonight.

xoxo

free indeed!

It is simply not something I could have done a year ago.
Or even 8 months ago.

I'm well aware what my limitations were.
And the Sydney Harbor Bridge Climb would have confronted every. single. one.

So today,
as I got to the top,
nearly running the last flight of stairs,
I stood there,
feeling on top of the world (quite literally).

And I turned to my friends and said, "I didn't ever realize how trapped I was by my life before. But moments like this force me to see it."

And I wept.
Really happy tears.
The kind of tears born of pure gratitude flowing through every little piece of my soul.

I felt free.
Free in the way I did as I ran the half marathon.
Free in the way that I do whenever I speak now.
Free from the life full of anxieties and insecurities.
Anxieties and insecurities about my body and myself that dictated far too much of my life for far too long.

I am free.
Free to live a life I love.
Free to be the girl I want to be.
Free to chase every single dream inside this little heart of mine.
Free to be ME.

And I am completely clear on where that kind of freedom comes from.
And who ultimately makes it possible for us to change and rid ourselves of the things that hold us back.

Today on the Sydney Harbor Bridge,
I looked out across a vast world,
closed my tear-filled eyes,
smiled as big as I have maybe ever,
and quietly said,
"thank you. thank you for freeing me."

If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed. (John 8:36)





(bridge image found here)

What's your story?

A few months ago during a discussion about a new work project, I felt impressed that I needed to be willing to share my little journey with a broader audience.

And while my readers seem to be increasing here (which is sometimes a little weird for me to think about. It's MUCH easier to be open and honest when you think there are like 10 people, most of whom have the same DNA as you...grin), I have known since this started that it wasn't just for me. And I have felt a certain obligation to be willing to talk about it.

SO...

We just launched a brand new website for TIME OUT FOR WOMEN.
The design is great.
The content is compelling.
It's a place for women all over the world to connect and share.
And I love it!

So, when we talked about objectives and what we needed to accomplish there, we made the decision to feature my journey. I had to take a deep breath the other day when it was officially launched. I wasn't sure how I would feel about sharing so much with so many.

But Post #1 has had some good response already...I've gotten a few notes from women who have read it and found me.
All confirming that this story isn't just mine.
And if it can help even one other woman, I need to be willing to share.

Some of the posts there will be repeats from my blog here.
Some will be fresh new content (featured there before I can post them here).

So, you might want to go check it out.
Because I've got a story to tell.

And you know what?
I think everyone has one.
Everyone.

So...What's yours?


(image found here)

What's next?

The night before the big race I was asked a simple question:
"What are you doing to do next?"

The truth was I had no idea.
I had become obsessed and consumed with this huge goal of June 11th.
And I just hadn't thought about June 12th.

Which might explain the little mini breakdown I had that night.
What? I never mentioned it?
Oh...

I got on a call with a friend of mine and just cried.
"What is wrong? This is like the biggest eve of your life."
"I know. I know." I said in between tears.

But, I didn't know how to feel about the life she was referring to...because so little about it looked familiar to me.

And I was a bit overwhelmed by it all.

I had a new body.
I had a new job.
I was playing "mom".
I was opening my heart.

Everything...and I mean EVERYTHING...felt like it was changing and I didn't know how to respond. I simply hadn't really spent much time thinking about anything past June 11, 2011.

Which probably explains the last four weeks a little more clearly.
(the slight delay in the blogging, among other things).
I've gone through a whirlwind of emotions.
I'm loving where I'm at right now.
In many ways, I have never felt happier or more content or more right.

But, for the first time in my life, I was feeling like I couldn't write the next chapter because I realized I didn't feel like I had written the previous few. The story of my life had changed... and, while it was better than anything I would have written on my own, it was still unfamiliar territory and I was feeling like I couldn't write the next page, let alone the next chapter.

So.
Here I am.
Needing a "what's next".
And ready to write.

I'm working on my little bucket list.
(and we're making good progress on a few things, people. we are.)

And I'm still running
(we're registered for a 10K end of summer and another half by the end of the year).

And I'm "becoming".
(a little more every day.)

But, the progress in this particular part of my life has been slow for four weeks.
Too slow.
And it's time to step it up.
It's time to go full force again.
It's time to attack this thing like I did when I began.

I've had some pretty frank conversations with the Lord lately.
He knows what I want in my life.
And I know what He is requiring of me in exchange.

So I'm committed to be eagle-eye focused on what He requires.
Doing all those things which matter most.

THAT is what's next, my friend.
And I'm doing it.

And I might even keep writing about it.


(image found here)

Goodbye to that girl [the 1/2]

I felt it almost as soon as the race began and I ran through the "start" line.
I should have turned back to look but I had a rule that I wasn't to look back.
I don't remember consciously deciding that was a rule, but it had served me well at "stop sign" and so the first time I was tempted to look back, I told myself I couldn't.

I didn't want to be comparing myself to where the other runners were.
I didn't want to feel aware of anyone behind me.
This was about me and what I could do.
Not where I was relative to anyone else.
And, I could tell my spirit had this need to not look back.
I've done that too much in my life and today was not going to be another day like that.

But, now I kind of wish I had.
I think I would have liked to have said, "goodbye".
Goodbye to the girl I was leaving behind.

Does that sound dramatic?
It's not. Not at all.

I really wish there was a way to open up my head and my heart so you could see the girl I was when this whole journey began.
True, I've divulged a lot of that here on this blog in the past.
Yet no one but God and me will really ever know what a miracle it was that THAT girl was able to get to a place where THIS girl could do THIS thing.

And it seemed with every step I took, I felt myself get further and further away from the girl I used to be.

Maybe that's why I ran for 6.5 miles without stopping (still can't believe I did that).
Maybe that's why I felt myself panic just a bit when the cramp started.
Perhaps I feared just a bit that girl I left at the start line was walking slowly after me and I didn't want her to catch me...I didn't want her to pull me back to that place I let her hold me in for far too long.

And so I ran.
And with every breath and every mile, I felt myself immerging into someone new.
And yet, familiar.

A miracle happened somewhere after mile 6.5.
I would say it was at mile 10 but it wasn't like it happened in one little moment.
It happened over the course of the race.

You see, there was a time when the girl I was before would not have kept going.
There was a time when the girl I was before would have given up.
There was a time when the girl I was before would have stopped believing

But that time was not this day.
And I knew with every push forward, I was no longer that girl.
And I haven't been that girl ever since.
I look at myself in the mirror every morning and I see someone totally different.

There is only one other day in my life that I can recall being as life changing as June 11, 2011. That day too was a day where my identity came more clearly into view than it ever had.

I am simply not the girl I was before.
I said "goodbye".
And there is no going back now.



And if you need some inspiration to "say goodbye", here you go:



say goodbye to that girl who's forgotten her pride
say hello to the girl who is rising inside
she won't hold back my life, can't sit here in regret
so it's time to say goodbye to the old...

there was a life within me, but then it started fading
i started feeling all these things i never knew
i need to stop pretending
that i can't change my ending
i will not let my spirit die this way
who says goodbye when life's just beginning?

say hello to the world that i thought that was there
was a prisoner inside now i'm breathing the air
yesterday's old cocoon hatched a new butterfly
now it's time to say goodbye to the old...
and welcome the new

the power of the cheers [the 1/2]

"GO, LAUREL!"

I heard my name.
I looked over to see unfamiliar faces.* (so cute though, right?)
But, there was no doubt it was my name on those posters.
And my name that was being yelled.

And oh how I needed a "Go, Laurel!" right about then.



I could see the finish line...finally.
But, even though I could see it, in that moment, I still couldn't imagine actually crossing it.
I mean, me?
A half marathoner?
How could it be.

Every step hurt and took effort.
But, I was running, slowly, but running just the same.



By the time I got to the last 100+ yards, I was completely overcome with emotion.
And then, every now and then I'd hear my name.
MY NAME.

Turns out some of you who I've never met were there (seriously, how cool are you?).
And other people who I knew and stood along University Avenue right at the end to cheer me on and see me finish.

Something really interesting happens at the end of a race.
You are spent and you want to quit.
You might even consider stopping.
Or walking the last little bit.

But, then you hear the cheers.
And you cry.
And that brings on more cheers.
And then there is no way you are not going to finish...and finish strong.
It's a pretty amazing feeling.



I've thought a lot about that.
Even shared it with the girls I spoke to last Monday.

"What would happen if every time you were faced with something difficult," I asked, "you could hear the cheers of everyone pulling for you?"

"What would happen if every time you stood in the face of temptation, all of heaven cheered you through it?"

"There is NO WAY you wouldn't get yourself to that finish line. There is no way."

It was a message I've never been able to share before in quite that way.
Because I had truly never experienced it before in quite that way.
It was one of the sweetest moments ever.

We need to be more encouraging of each other.
We need to feel less awkward about acknowledging when something is hard.
I wish we would allow ourselves to be more vulnerable so we are more willing to ask for support.
And we certainly need to cheer louder and harder than any of the other influences in the lives of those we love.

There is power in the cheers.
And that power pushes us to do things we very well maybe wouldn't do otherwise.

So...find someone this week to cheer on, will you?

(this was waiting for me when we pulled up to my house on Saturday. Whoever you are...THANK. YOU. I kept it up for 4 days. frankly, it would still be up but I feared that was obnoxious. But, seriously. THANKS. xoxo)




*so much thanks to you, Gwen. We've never met. You've been incredibly encouraging on this little blog of mine. I know you were at the race for other people...but it meant so very much to me that you included me in your cheer section. you will never know how much I needed those cheers in that moment. Or, maybe, if you're reading...now you will. We'll meet one of these days. xoxo

Worth it [the 1/2]

"It will all be worth it."
-Sarah Franks


There is a pretty sweet love story interwoven in the storyline of 17 Miracles.
And it's a true pretty sweet love story.
Which makes it even pretty sweetier.

Sarah and George fall in love.
Sarah doesn't want to marry George until they can marry in the temple.
Sarah tells George "It will all be worth it."
They cross the plains together.
Sarah gets really sick.
George give Sarah his ration of food.
Sarah gets better.
George gets sick.
Then...well...[spoiler alert]
One of them dies before they make it to Zion.
But from all indications, until the day she died, Sarah Franks felt it was all worth it.*

Right at about mile 6.5, I could feel a tug in my left calf.
I thought if I ignored it and just kept running, it would go away.
I thought wrong.
And just before mile marker 7, I had to stop running.
I made my way to the side and stretched.
I tried to massage my calf and I started to cry.
"Please, Heavenly Father. I've worked so hard. Please don't let this happen."

I looked up and saw some people who I love just ahead. I had been running for 6.5 miles. I wasn't about to let them see me walk. So I ran and blew a kiss and Erin (who had been waiting for me) joined me as we ran past them together.

"I have a cramp," I told her. "It's bad."
And then, once we were past all the people, I started to cry again.

I could not imagine running the last 6.1 miles with this cramp.
So, I walked a bit then stopped to massage and cry and pray.
Then I would run a bit.
But, I had to run mile 8 because the person I assigned to the mile was there.
And I just had to do it.
And I did.

Then mile 9 came and I couldn't run anymore. Tammy said that was fine with her because she wasn't a runner...so walking was totally appropriate (I love that girl).

And it was during the mile that my mind went to a million different places.
None of them very good.
I was so done.
I just so wanted to quit.
After Tammy left us, Erin did some "tough love" and I couldn't be more grateful.

"You knew this would be hard, Laurel. You knew this. So are you going to quit? Are you going to just stop here and sit on the side of the road? Are you done?"

"No. I can't. Of course not."

"Of course you're not. So stop it. Stop talking like this. Stop feeling this way. You know you can do this. You have less to go now than our shortest run. You'e going to do this. So, just run."

And THAT is when we parted ways.
After she had said what someone needed to say to me.

And something happened during mile 10.
Something really really significant.

Nothing changed about the way I physically felt.
I was in pain.
I was exhausted.
I was done.

But, I didn't quit.
And I learned some really important things about myself.
Significant things.

After the race I stopped at the home of some dear friends.
They weren't able to be at the race but in so many ways, they got this journey started for me. I related what had happened and how frustrating it was that the cramp had come and never left.

"I really think I could have come in under 3 hours if it hadn't happened. I really think I might have been able to run the whole thing."

"But think of how different the experience would have been if you had," he said.

I felt the truth of that statement.
He was absolutely right.
Little about this journey has been easy.
I've had to dig deep.
Deep.
And now that I'm where I'm at and can see what I can see?
Well, I don't think I'd have it any other way.

Part of why last Saturday was such a holy experience for me (and it was...in so many ways it was) was because it got hard...really hard...right at the half way point.

Part of why last Saturday was so life changing for me (and it was...it absolutely was) was because I didn't think I was going to be able to finish.

And all of why last Saturday means so much to me is because I did.

Sometimes the difficulty of the experience is what makes it holy.
Sometimes the difficulty of the journey is what makes finishing worth it.

So. worth. it.


*One of the sweetest parts of the "Sarah & George" story is told at the very end of the movie. When President Faust learned of the story he made sure that the temple work for Sarah and George was done...and they were sealed as husband and wife (the term we use for "marriage") for eternity in the temple they were crossing the plains to get to.
Worth it?
Yes.
Worth it.

Call of a Champion [the 1/2]

There are no words, really, to describe the feeling of running down Provo Canyon on a cool crisp June morning at 6 a.m. with thousands of other runners (thousands).

I could NOT stop smiling.
I giggled.
I'm pretty sure it was loud enough for others to hear.

But I couldn't help it.
I yelled to Erin, "I can't stop smiling."
I yelled at the top of my lungs as we ran through the tunnel.
I kept waiting to stop running.
But, I couldn't.
My legs just wouldn't stop.

I felt like I was on top of the world.
I felt like I could do anything.
I felt like I was hearing the call of a champion.

Maybe because I was.

(I will remember that moment forever whenever I hear this song...it was the first one on my playlist that morning. really it was. just TRY to imagine running to this...down Provo Canyon...on a cool crisp June morning...and then just try not to smile. just try.)




(image found here)

Mile 10: Run on the water [the 1/2]

(If I try to capture the race in chronological order, I fear I'll never get to everything. So, just in case I only get to some of it, I wanted to start with what felt like the crux of this whole experience.)

I walked for the entire mile 9.
It was Tammy's mile and she joined me and stayed with me til almost the end of it.

Then she left and Erin tried to talk me through the spiral I was experiencing.
I was so frustrated I couldn't run.
The cramp in my calf had done me in.
I was tired.
Every self doubt was coming at me full force.
I was done.
I knew I wasn't going to quit.
But, I was done just the same.
A paradox to be sure.

I had hoped Erin would get to run the last bit at her pace (for her take on the race, you MUST read her blog post. Oh, you must...greater love hath no friend.). I knew she wanted to but I also knew she wasn't going to leave me in the state I was in. And while I was grateful for that, I knew somehow the state I was in wasn't going to leave me unless she did. For as perfect of a partner as she was from the beginning, I sensed I had to dig deep on this one. I had to do it because I was capable of doing it...not because someone was capable of getting me to do it.

We passed mile marker 10 and I told her to go.
I promised her I would be okay.
And I watched her run off ahead.

Then I hit "play" on my little nano.

A dear friend wanted to make sure I had this particular song. But, he couldn't have known when it would play...how much I would need it. And truly, the song could not have been a more perfect expression of the Lord's complete awareness of me and the very step I was on. The Lord knew what Mile 10 would be for me.

I knew He knew.
And, through the tears, I started to run (again).



You look around
It's staring back at you
Another wave of doubt
Will it pull you under
You wonder

What if I'm overtaken
What if I never make it
What if no one's there?
Will you hear my prayer?

When you take that first step
Into the unknown
You know that he won't let you go

So what are you waiting for?
What do you have to lose?
Your insecurities try to alter you

You know you're made for more
So don't be afraid to move
Your faith is all
It takes and you can
Walk on the water too

So get out
And let
Your fear fall to the ground
No time to waste
Don't wait
Don't you turn around and miss out
Everything you were made for
I know you're not sure
So you play it safe
Try to run away

If you take that first step
Into the unknown
He won't let you go

Bridge:
(step out)
Even when a storm hits
(step out)
Even when you're broken
(step out)
Even when your heart is telling you telling you to give up
(step out)
When your hope is stolen
(step out)
You can't see where you're going
You don't have to be afraid

So what are you waiting,
What are you waiting for?

So what are you waiting for?
What do you have to lose?
Your insecurities try to alter you

You know you're made for more
So don't be afraid to move
Your faith is all
It takes and you can
Walk on the water...
Walk on the water too

-Britt Nicole

We. Did. It. [the 1/2]

We really really did.
And I say "we" because it is abundantly clear I did not to this alone.

It was Erin who stayed with me til I forced her to leave me at mile 10.
It was my dearest of friends who I saw every mile beginning at mile 7.
It was the girl who came up to me before the race and said she reads my blog and couldn't believe what I was doing (sorry I didn't catch your name, new friend).
It was the some of the other runners who kept trying to pass me and kept me going.
It was the crowd the last 100 yards that cheered when all I wanted to do is stop.
It was a killer playlist (that so many of you helped assemble).
It was everything I've been learning.
It was the power of prayer.
It was what I had written on my hand.
It was the Spirit.
It was a loving amazingly kind Father in Heaven.

We ran a consecutive 6.5 miles without stopping and then we finished a half-marathon in 3 hours and 16 minutes, getting a wicked calf cramp at 6.5 that just never let up.

And tonight, though unbelievably sore, I feel amazing.
My life feels so different.
My heart is totally calm.

And the things that I learned on those 13.1 miles?
I will attempt to articulate in the coming days.
Every step meant something.
Every song was perfectly placed.
Every moment sunk deep into my heart.
Even the cramp served a sacred purpose.
I see that now.

I wouldn't trade the experience for very many things.
Life changing is not overly dramatic.
I will never be the same.

We did it.
We really really did.

And I couldn't be more grateful.
xoxo



(I love what this picture captures. The cramp in my calf has just started and I was so frustrated I couldn't run and then I saw some friends at mile 7 and I was overwhelmed by what my little heart felt. And I started running again. Pure gratitude. That's what this expression is. A huge thanks to Macy Robison who photographed some of what happened today. You're amazing, Macy! xoxo)

Ready. (day 1)

It's almost here.
Tomorrow is the date with my destiny.

If you had told me on the morning of November 28, 2010 that today I would be 24 hours away from my first half-marathon, I never would have believed you.

Except that somewhere in the back of my heart
in the back of my mind
behind my regrets
and my fears
and my disappointments
Behind the prayers I had stopped praying
and my dreams
and my faith
and my hopes...

I think I knew.
I knew.

And I was ready.

And now it's here.
And I'm ready still.

But, just for fun...pray for me anyway.
(even better if the prayers are happening at 8am Mountain Time...about the time when I worry just a tich I might be dying. just a tich.)
xoxo


(from the bottom of my little over-flowing heart, THANK YOU for being a part of this journey. It's not nearly over. And in many ways...in so many ways...tomorrow it will just be beginning. Again.)

Dream BIG (day 2)

God gives us dreams
a size too big
so that we can grow into them.
~Author Unknown

I've listened to "Dream Big" more times than I can count.
For more years than I want to admit because I wasn't really doing it.
"Dreaming big", that is.
I wish I had written it.
I didn't.

But, my heart has heard it just the same.
FINALLY.

And I'll be hearing that message loud and clear on Saturday.
Loud and clear.


Ryan Shupe & the RubberBand - Dream Big by EMI_Music