I Run These Towns

To say I'm a goal oriented person is a huge understatement. When I started running a decade ago I went from not running since track in high school (and only sprinting then) to signing up for a marathon as my first ever road race. I like to start small. My desire  - no my need - to have big goals shapes who I am. Goals are unique to the individual, and they're only for me. My meeting, exceeding or changing goals only affects me. Then how is it so hard? My goal for this summer was to break 20 minutes in the 5k. It was originally my goal last year too, but I abandoned it in favor of a busy distance race schedule and the teeny task of focusing on my small human instead of training. This year was supposed to be the year. It started out so promising earlier this spring with speed training intervals at speeds (6:00/min mile) that I never could've imagined hitting even for a few minutes. I was going to do this. Fast forward three months. I am not going to do this. Certainly no

The human body is remarkable. It's both fragile and very strong. It's a complex organism that regularly exceeds my expectations. Even though my body has not been cooperating in the last few weeks, I'm still amazed that it can take such a beating and keep on going. I told my colleague earlier today that if my body could talk it would have spend the last month or so telling me to go f*ck myself. Apparently my body would also have a potty mouth. Recovering is a weird thing. Last week I came back to work, but I left early Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday to go home and rest. On Thursday I headed to Muskegon, Michigan for a two-day work trip. I had rescheduled one day of meetings from the week I was in the hospital so I could do the two days in a block and stay overnight. I figured staying overnight would at least allow me to rest after all my meetings and not chase a toddler around. My first meeting was at 9:30 (Muskegon is about an hour and a half drive). By the time my meeti

Change is hard. It's scary. Despite that I generally like change. I think it can be productive and healthy. Generally I like facing change head on and taking on new challenges. After last week's hospital stay I realized I need to make some changes. It's scary and intimidating, and in an unusual reaction change is kind of freaking me out. Well not so much the act of change but rather my fear of my body's ability to adapt. My fear is that I will make changes and it won't m atter. That is terrifying. In 19 years of struggling with Crohn's disease, six surgeries, weeks in the hospital and countless procedures, office visits and IV infusions, I've almost always maintained a positive outlook in the face of my health issues. This time I'm rattled in a way I never have been. This was my first hospitalization that did not result in surgery. While I'm thrilled to not have to go under the knife again , it worries me that this is the future of my health. What

If you've read this blog for any length of time you know that 1) I have Crohn's disease; 2) I refuse to live like a sick person and 3) I push myself harder than most of the people I know who do nowthave a chronic illness. I've had six abdominal surgeries, IV infusions of medication for 14 years, and regular struggles where I just feel crummy, but I have a really active life with tons of travel, running, a busy job I love and chasing after a toddler. I don't exactly take it easy (understatement of the century). A few years ago what should've been routine hernia surgery turned into nearly a month in the hospital with a bowel obstruction and blood clot. It was shocking. My body generally cooperates so well I don't know how to handle when it doesn't. I've had the occasional infection or Crohn's hiccup, but I generally am able to power through. Last week I wrote a blog about faking it , but I didn't really talk about my health. If I can be candid

Everyone says the same thing about their mom. One of the most cliche is that one's mother is their "best friend". I have always been really close to my mom. She's a remarkable human, but she is not and should not be my best friend. She's my mom. Even at the age of 37 she can still chastise me with a simple look. Now that I am have a child of my own I have an even greater appreciation for the fact that my mom is my mother and not my BFF. I love spending time with my mom. We have a lot in common. But ultimately even as an adult she's still an authority figure in my life. She still has my best interests at heart even above her own. She worries about me. She get frustrated with me and she loves me unconditionally in a way that nobody else ever has or will. It's a more important role than best friend. With my mom at the Badlands in South Dakota In this new world of parenting everyone is afraid to make their kids mad. Parenting is about making sure kids ar

I have a confession to make, but I don't really want to say it out loud. Come here...I'll tell you if you promise not to tell anyone my secret. Closer...closer. Okay, here it is: I'm faking it.   What is it, you may ask? All of it : l ife, career, parenting, running. I like to pretend like I've got it all together, but I am faking it . In reality I know that this is hyperbole, but there are times when it feels like that's true. I remember starting law school among this largely serious and intense group of humans. I am rarely serious and only intense when it comes to working out or being in love. Despite actually being a relatively smart person I have never thought of myself as very intellectual. I felt lacking in law school, and I showed it by not appearing to car e that much. In fairness I had three abdominal surgeries my first year. I followed my heart to Texas and visited my third year at Baylor where I didn't know anyone. My grades, whether good or bad,