I Run These Towns

About two and a half years ago I was in a bit of a funk. I felt restless, and I needed some kind of focus. I've always loved to write, and my husband suggested I start a blog about cities and running. We were in Knoxville, Tennessee for the Covenant Knoxville Half Marathon . Knoxville was a random place for a race, but I fell in love with the city. It seemed like a natural fit to talk about the towns I've run in any why I love them. Knoxville was my first blog, and there have been 205 written since then. This blog started (and continues really) as a way to give me a project, but I've been completely overwhelmed by the response from all of you. I've been in meetings before where someone I barely know mentions how much they enjoy it. I have had people mention it to me when I'm buying coffee and when I pass them on the street. It's a project I started for me, and the fact that people enjoy reading it is an added incentive that motivates me to keep running and tr

It's not quite Thanksgiving, but that doesn't mean I'm not already thinking about Christmas. I've gotten a head start on Christmas shopping, and it's definitely time to hint to my loved ones what I want. I've written several blogs with a running gear Christmas wish list, and I've gotten everything on them. I can't believe Santa reads my blog! That is so exciting. Here's the thing, Santa. I haven't entirely been a good girl. I try, but I'm snide and cynical. I love good gossip. And while I doubt I'm on the nice list, you can't blame a girl for trying. It's nearly winter in Michigan, and that means I need lots of cold weather gear. Do I have lots? Well yes. But I think I need more. I hear it's going to be a brutal season, and I need to be prepared.  I only have one article of clothing that is from Reebok, and they are the best running tights ever (thanks to my mother-in-law who keeps me outfitted in awesome running pants

I'm a control freak. I like things my way, and I like to manage everything. When I was 19 and first became sick with what we would later discover was Crohn's, it was a giant slap in the face. It was the first time I realized that when it really matters, I don't control anything. It has only been through four abdominal surgeries and twelve years of IV infusions every six weeks (plus regular antibiotics) that I have been able to keep my disease under control.  Although I like to think that it's the medicine only combined with my sheer tenacity that has really kept me going. Despite the evident (yet rarely acknowledged) fact that I can't control everything, I was still thrown for a loop when we started our quest to have a child.  Once we made the decision to adopt I thought I had moved past a lot of the emotional issues, and yet sometimes I am surprised by how this process can emotionally blindside me just when I think I've got it all under control. This isn'

It's easy in life to forget where we came from. It's not uncommon to push so hard to get where we're going that we forget to look back at where it all started. I grew up in the tiny town of Hundred, West Virginia (299 people in the 2010 census). My parents also grew up in Hundred and stayed there to raise their four children. I had a pretty charmed existence - a happy family, a good home, food on the table (great food - my mom is a rockstar cook). My family actually likes each other (even though we also can want to throttle one another at different times). I didn't really think about the work that it took to keep the family going. My life was great, and that's really all that mattered. My parents are both extremely hardworking, and I didn't really appreciate it until I got older. My mom stayed at home while raising four children, and bless her heart that is probably the hardest job ever. My dad worked my entire life in the coal mines like so many West Virgin

After a busy week at work last week we headed to West Virginia for the Veterans Day holiday weekend. One of my co-workers asked me on Friday if we ever stay home, and the answer is no, not really. I love our busy life, and stopping really isn't an option. Sometimes, however, I run out of steam. That is what always happens in WV. So we spent the long holiday weekend in West Virginia visiting my parents and watching Mountaineer football. Being at my parents' house is the only time I REALLY relax. When I'm at my own house I can come up with 1,000 things to do - laundry, cleaning, organizing, anything. At my parents' house I read. And sleep. A lot. It's truly my most relaxed place, and it's where I can completely recharge. We arrived late on Friday, and I pretty quickly settled into my near comatose mode of relaxation. We brought our dogs this time, and it's the only time they get to sleep with me (my husband sleeps in the other guest room). I love our pups,

This morning, just over a week since the marathon, I went for my first post-marathon run.  My muscles were so sore last week that I decided to baby myself and let them heal. I was feeling great over the weekend, and it seemed like the perfect way to start off the week. Prior to the run - rocking the mock and being photo bombed by my dog I wish I could say something witty about my fantastic first post-marathon run. When I first started I was planning my proud Facebook status as saying how this run felt like home or something equally charming.  It did feel great for about two miles.  During the last mile my IT band tightened up not unlike it did at the end of the marathon.  It hurt. A lot. I felt like my muscles had healed, but my old IT band injury has clearly reared its ugly head. Marathon training is so all consuming, and a week after the race I feel disappointed. After months of training and the build up to the race, it is a giant let down once the race is over. It was a fant

One of the most important things about any race are the spectators. They can change the tone of any event, and they're part of what helps keep us runners going when the race gets tough. The Marine Corps Marathon had some of the best crowd support I've ever seen in any race. It was incredible. The fantastic crowd led me to think (and there's lots of time in 26.2 miles to think) about what what makes great race spectators. 1. Be loud. The louder and more outrageous the better. Cheer, clap, whistle, play music. You may feel stupid, but trust me - you're inspiring someone.  I love the guy who was blasting Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'" from an old school boom box around mile six of the MCM. That guy gets brownie points. 2. Make a sign! Marathon signs are THE best. Some of my favorites: My all time fav: If This Race Were Any Easier It'd Be Called Your Mom (seen at the Winter Blast Half Marathon in Portage, MI earlier this year) Run Like