Under Pressure

I believe we should pray more for others, less for ourselves. Yet, every night before a long run, I find myself praying for yours truly. Rather, I pray for my foot. I chat with God and ask that he helps see me through the Chicago Marathon on 10.10.10 free of injuries. It's a selfish request, but, I'm afraid it's come down to that. I blame the stress fracture.

When I got the OK in late April from my doctor to resume running, I was pretty confident about returning to the sport. I felt I had become a stronger runner after months on the stationary bike. But, as I run more, my confidence lessens. I recall spending what seemed like an hour the night before an 18-mile training run last month praying I wouldn't get hurt.

If I were running the Chicago Marathon only for myself, I could swallow re-injury. But this race isn't just about me.  It's about my dad, who died at 46 because of multiple myeloma, a rare blood cancer. It's about my sister, Brooke, who will be running her first -- and maybe only -- marathon. It's about the dozen friends and family who've decided to travel to Chicago to support us on 10.10.10. It's about the friends, family and strangers who've donated their hard-earned money to the Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation.

I have quietly pledged that I will slow down -- at least a little bit -- after the Chicago and Philadelphia marathons. I still plan on registering for the Flying Pig Marathon, which will take place in Cincinnati in May. This is the race I couldn't run this year because of the stress fracture. I have a deferral certificate, and I will use it.

But, training for the Flying Pig Marathon can wait until winter. In the weeks and months following the Philadelphia Marathon, I will focus on cross-training. I will prepare for my first triathlon. I flunked out of swimming lessons at an early age, so preparing for even a sprint triathlon (750m swim, 20km bike, 5km run) will take some time and likely some coaching. I've read about and heard from people who participated in triathlons only to discover they became better runners -- and experienced fewer injuries.

Hopefully, at this time next year, I'll be praying for stuff far more important than my dumb foot.

Clarification: I want to explain what I mean by slow down. I'm not disappearing from endurance running. I love running marathons, and I plan to travel the world participating in them. While I hope to continue running marathons, and hopefully qualify for the Boston Marathon in the near future, I do plan to run fewer days a week after the Philadelphia Marathon. I've been known after a marathon to resume normal running after only a few days' rest. When I signed up for the Philadelphia Marathon, I promised Ben and my friend Kara that I would alter my ways. But, come late winter, I will slowly ramp up running. I want to be ready for the Flying Pig Marathon in early May.

August Update: Kicking Cancer's Butt...One Mile at a Time

Left: Brooke, Right: Brady

Hello everybody!

About six months ago, Brooke and I signed up to run the Chicago Marathon on behalf of the Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation (MMRF). I don’t think either one of us predicted how the decision would transform us.

Brooke is running again. She hates running. After running a half-marathon five years ago on a bad knee, she had practically said goodbye to the sport. She still might not love it. But she’s out there, trying to put in the miles.

My involvement with the MMRF has ignited a fire I haven’t felt in a long time. As a result, I want to play a greater role in the non-profit sector. I’m volunteering more. I’m an active member of a committee planning a half-marathon in Evanston that will promote wellness in every ward of the city and connect runners – young and old. I have also agreed to help organize training runs for members of the MMRF Chicago Marathon charity team who live in the Chicago area. And barring any unforeseen problems, I will audit a class on the mission-driven enterprise this fall at the Kellogg School of Management. My hope is that participating in this class will equip me with the knowledge to be a better, more effective volunteer or employee.

Fund-raising:
The Chicago Marathon is only 53 52 days away! So far we have raised nearly $3,500 $3,600. We are grateful for the friends, family and even strangers who have contributed! We hope to ultimately raise $4,000. If 20 people donate $25, we will achieve our goal.

If you are planning to donate, remember that every dollar matters. Whether you can contribute $5 or $50, it all helps! Ninety-three percent of your contribution goes directly toward the development of treatment for multiple myeloma. If you can’t contribute financially, you can still support us in other ways! Help us spread the word about our cause and the MMRF. Urge loved ones to get annual physicals. Send an encouraging note the week of the marathon.

Training:

From left: Brady, Gene, Becky, Brooke

During the next few weeks, Brooke and I will experience the most intense part of training. When we began preparing for the marathon in June, we were running an average 20 miles a week. Now, single runs consist of 16, 18 and 20 miles.

To assist Brooke with training, her husband Tony bought a bike so he could accompany her on long runs. He typically runs three miles with her before transitioning to the bike. His support doesn’t stop there. To entice her to follow her training plan, he pledged to give her $1 for every mile she runs between now and the marathon on 10-10-10.

This isn’t the first time I’ve trained for a marathon, but it is the first time while training for a marathon that I’ve looked forward to every run and done it—mostly—without complaint. It doesn’t hurt that I live in a city where the running culture is strong. I’m also surrounded by an amazing group of young women who run and love the sport as much as I do.

The power of purpose helps, too. On every run, I carry the memory of my dad and the knowledge that I’m running for a cause bigger than just myself. Our dad never laced up a pair of shoes to go running. But I sense, especially on the tough, long runs, that he’s taking every stride with me. Whether Brooke senses it, I know he’s taking every step with her, too.

Housekeeping:
Between now and the marathon, we will send out a monthly update in September and an update one week before the race. We also plan to share a race recap and photos after the marathon. If you are interested in receiving the next updates and race recap by e-mail, contact me at brady.jean@gmail.com.

All our best,

Brady and Brooke

Discipline is the bridge between goals and accomplishment. -- Jim Rohn

Celebrating 27 with 26.2

In November, I turn 27. While every birthday should be celebrated, the number this year is somewhat unremarkable. It's two years past a quarter century, three years from the big 3-0.

Why not make this year stand out? Especially after the past few birthdays, which have been low key. When I turned 22, I was juggling a full load of classes at the University of Minnesota, spending 30 hours a week at the Minnesota Daily and interning at the Pioneer Press. I invited my friends over for a movie. They brought cake. I have a photo where I'm blowing out the candles -- in my pajamas.When I turned 24, my cousin and brother-in-law came over for waffles. On my most recent birthday, I treated myself to a roll from Bennison's Bakery, had an informational interview with someone from Chicago Public Radio in the city and met my friends for Indian. Oh, how I was craving Indian.

I've decided to celebrate my 27 years by running 26.2 miles. Call me crazy, dumb, foolish. But six weeks after I run the Chicago Marathon (10-10-10), I will toe the line of the Philadelphia Marathon (11-21-10). The race is only three days after I blow out 27 candles. How remarkable is that.

Fund-raising 101: Companies can say 'no'

When my sister Brooke and I signed up to run the Chicago Marathon for the Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation (MMRF) in our dad’s memory, our fund-raising expectations were low. Having never previously raised money for a cause, we didn’t know who of our family and friends would donate. We also believed the tough economy might prevent people from being able to contribute financially.

We were proved wrong. Friends and family stepped up to the plate, and donations flowed in, especially during the first several weeks of fund-raising. It was an exciting time, and my eyes often welled up with tears every time I received an e-mail alerting me a donation had been made. They still do.

Initially, we each planned on raising $1,000, or $2,000 combined. In June, we surpassed the $2,000 mark. As a result, we adjusted our goal to $3,000. In July, we surpassed that, too. Again we revised our goal to $4,000, not out of some competition to raise more and more money. We just want to help. Since its founding in 1998, we know the MMRF has made great strides in funding research for new multiple myeloma treatments and has been an invaluable resource for patients and their families. We wish it had been in the ring with our dad when he was fighting such an awful disease.

It’s in that spirit that Brooke and I contacted Justin Boots, our dad’s long-time employer. He worked there as a salesman until his death in 1995. I spent time on the road with him as a little girl, so I got to see firsthand his dedication to and love for the company.

In May, I mailed our first letter to the company, as directed on its website. I shared our story about why we were running the Chicago Marathon and asked for Justin Boots to donate $1,000. In return, the company’s logo would appear on our charity running and support team shirts. Additional publicity opportunities were offered, as well. I asked for a response by mid June. Weeks went by, and I heard nothing from the company. I enlisted the help of my dad’s close friends, who still had connections at Justin Boots. They e-mailed their friends and received favorable responses.

About a week and a half before the deadline, I still had not been contacted by anyone at the company. So, while I was in Minnesota, my sister and I put together an amateur photo shoot. As our mom photographed us, we ran in our dad’s cowboy boots, shorts and MMRF jerseys. I sent a photo collage and a hand-written letter requesting $500.  I also posted the photos on Twitter to get the Justin Boots’ attention. As a result, I received a message that the company would be in touch.

Then, radio silence.

A week ago, I sent a new proposal to the company. And yesterday, I contacted the Balcom Agency, a Texas-based advertising, marketing and public relations firm that, according to its website, has Justin Boots as a client. I briefly stated why Brooke and I were running the Chicago Marathon, asked for a donation/sponsorship and requested to speak with the account representative for Justin Boots. Within hours, I received this response:

Dear Brady -

As a Berkshire Hathaway owned company, Justin Brands has certain limitations and this request falls outside the defined parameters Justin Brands has in place for their corporate giving.

Sincerely -

(name removed)

My mom warned me not to be disappointed if Justin Boots chose not to make a donation. She thought too much time had passed since our dad died, and a donation might not be a priority for the company.

I wasn't surprised by the rejection. I was, however, disappointed in the manner it was conveyed.

Indeed, Brooke and I hoped for a donation. But more importantly, we wanted the company to help us honor or dad.

Running in a Small Town

As you probably have gathered from reading this blog, I'm from a small town, a very small town. The current population is around 2,500, and it's getting smaller every day.

We have two gas stations, one grocery store, a Subway, a Dairy Queen and the finest bakery in all of southwest Minnesota, if not the state. We have a Red Rooster, where my parents took my sister and me almost daily for breakfast during grade school.

My graduation class had 100 students. It was a big class. About 500 students attend the high school, grades 7 through 12.

While I haven't lived there in eight years, I go back frequently. I recently spent two weeks there, and I did a fair amount of running and thinking about small-town running.

You know you're a small-town runner when...

1.  It takes you less than 40 minutes to run around your entire town.
2. A significant chunk of your run is spent on a U.S. highway.
3. You share the road with tractors, trailers and semi-trucks.
4. You hesitate to wear only a sports bra because it's likely a teacher, your 70-year-old former neighbor or the old men who told you when you were a little girl that your finger will fall off like theirs did if you pick your nose will see you. But it's hot, so you do it anyway (wear only the sports bra, that is).
5. Your story about running a marathon for charity makes the front page of a newspaper.
6. You have a 14-miler on the schedule, and the most logical route is running to another town and back home
7. The closest thing to a running club is the high school cross-country team.

Do you live in a small town? If so, what do you think is unique to small-town running?

You know you're a real runner when...

Your toenails die. Duh!

Ever since I trained for my first marathon five years ago, one of the toenails on my left foot has never been the same. I notice the toe during long runs, and it often feels sore afterward. By the time I race, it has turned purple and part of the nail has come off.

After last weekend's 14-miler, my toenail had become a real pain...in my foot. On Tuesday, I tried clipping it to relieve pressure. I must have punctured a blister, because it started draining fluid. Blisters under the toenail aren't uncommon in runners.

Despite poking the blister, I still felt pressure under my nail. I did some research and considered puncturing my nail with a hot paper clip or needle to properly drain the blister. My brother-in-law even offered to do it! But, with a 15-miler planned for this weekend, I thought I should wait.

That is, until last night. I was about to go to sleep but I couldn't stop thinking about my toe. I got out the clipper, and I started cutting away. Slowly, and with little pain, the toe nail came off. It was dead anyway.

Both Ben and my mom expressed some concern, so I mentioned the "surgery" I performed on my toe during my annual physical today. The physician's assistant said it looked good, and I have no need for antibiotics. Yay!

I feel like a true road warrior, with one less toenail.

My Rave Run

I've been in my rural Minnesota hometown (population 2,500 and getting smaller) since July 20, and I will be here until Monday. I have several motivations for my lengthy stay at home. My mom was hospitalized for and diagnosed with seizures last month, and I wanted to accompany her to her follow-up doctor appointments. I also have upcoming family gatherings -- a reunion on Saturday and my grandma's 80th birthday party on Sunday.

Before loading up my Jeep a week and a half ago, I looked at my Chicago Marathon training schedule; my long runs consisted of 9-, 14- and 15-milers. I've previously run marathons, so the distance didn't scare me. Long runs are my friend. But the location in which I'd be doing these long runs frightened me.

I recalled running from my hometown of Tracy to Walnut Grove and back (7 miles each way) five years ago while training for my first marathon. I begged my sister, who hadn't been training for anything, to run with me. We shared a CamelBak. Between the rolling hills and sharing U.S. Highway 14 with cars and semi-trucks, I never wanted to cover that route again on only my feet. Yet, while I was home visiting two summers ago and training for the Twin Cities Marathon again, I decided to not only run that route, but also to run around my hometown first. I had a 20-miler on the schedule and, even though I was home, I intended to run it. This time my sister accompanied me on a bike. I was about 15 miles into the run when I slowed down and became almost delirious. I was exposed on the treeless highway, and I had started out too late. I was hot. And I was done. We called my father-in-law who picked us up. Thank God for my sister and her cell phone.

Despite those dreadful runs, I love Tracy and the thousands of acres of unharvested corn and soybean fields that currently surround it. Though, you won't ever see my town featured as a rave run in Runner's World. It has less than two miles of running/walking paths on the town's edge, near a small man-made lake pond. A run around town is about four miles long. Tracy's edges are mostly treeless and leave runners exposed to the often unforgiving wind and sun. And to run any serious distance means traveling, unless you want to run laps around town.
 
For this weekend's 14-miler, I drove to the Lake Shetek area which has a 6-mile paved trail. It's about 13 miles south of my  hometown. There, I encountered hills, wild flowers, prairie grass, men fishing, deer, rabbits, and, of course, the lake. While I had to run around the nearby town of Currie (population: 225) to make up additional miles, I loved this run. I had biked and run the path before, but I didn't appreciate its beauty until this past weekend.

I plan to return Saturday for my 15-miler. It may not be considered a rave run to the well-traveled runner, but it's a gem hidden in the cornfields of rural Minnesota. It's my rave run.