My Song du Jour

My heart beats in syncopated rhythms. Music makes me move. It moves me. Right now, this is the song that makes me move the most.



What songs get you going?

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes

Turn and face the strange

I’ve been thinking a lot about changes lately. How we change as we grow, grow as we change, all of that. How the decisions we make, even though we think they might be small, can prove to have profound effects in so many aspects of our lives – right down to the core of who we are.

There have been many interesting discussions with friends and loved ones over whether people ever really change. I’m still not sure. I don’t know if I’ve changed. But I know I’ve made changes.

The decision to lace up some running shoes and head out the door for the first time was life changing. It altered the way I dealt with stress and hard times, the tone and shape of my body, my self-image and my perceptions. Before I became a runner, separating my impulses from my emotions was tricky. Controlling either of those things was problematic on my best days.
My default was set to erratic.

I feel now, almost four years after I first logged a run, more balanced, more relaxed and just more together. I’m more equipped to handle things that come my way. Certainly, a lot of that is gained just through experiences and getting older. But having an outlet… having a means to cope with things that not long ago would have been too much to cope with, is absolutely crucial to that.

Are we, as we grow up, capable of changing who we once were? If we work hard and actively fight against some of our worst instincts can we set ourselves to a new default? Have new instincts?

In many respects, I feel that the core of my being is unchanged, but through the choices I’ve made many of those aspects of myself are unrecognizable to me today.

I’ve worked hard to make good choices and positive changes in my life. Seeing the results of those choices has been a source of a lot of pride for me. The physical changes manifest themselves in my running and my general health. Looking back at the numbers recently, I realized after running that Manhattan Half Marathon this past weekend, I ran it 41 minutes faster than I had the first time I did it three years ago. I hope to improve my time even more.

In other areas, well, I just feel like I’m a better person than I was a few years ago. It’s impossible to say how much of that is due to what factors, but I’m certain that so much of the good things that have come into my life would not be there if I couldn’t look in the mirror and call myself a runner.

♫ Time may change me
But I can't trace time. ♫

Something Suddenly Came Up

Excuses Not to Run:

1) It's snaining out (this was my excuse tonight, and now I'm regretting it)
2) I'm waiting for a Fresh Direct delivery (right, Matt?)
3) I'm washing my hair.
4) Time to go for a ru-SQUIRREL!
5) I can't feel my legs.
6) I've got gravy leg (hat tip, Joe)
7) I just can't shake this hangover.
8) Glee is on.
9) I have nipple chafe.
10) I DON'T HAVE TO EXPLAIN MYSELF TO YOU!

Flaws, Imperfections and Weaknesses

I don’t like it when my apple cart is upset. I don’t like when things don’t go according to my plans. I really struggle with my reactions sometimes. Lately, this has been manifesting itself a lot in my running. Last week, I had a great hill workout. I felt quick and light, like I was conquering those hills. It seemed almost effortless. And then every other run I had that week felt heavy and laborious. I felt, as I broadcast over twitter, like a doughy, leaden mollusk. I even cut a run short because things were just hurting. Rather than just take this at face value and accept that I needed to take it a bit easier, I went into a funk. This wasn’t my plan. This wasn’t how I wanted things to go. I became sullen, moody and angry with myself. My standards for myself are high and I was failing to live up to them.

I’m the kind of person that wears my heart on my face. I don’t hide my emotions well. I don’t really try to. But when I fear that I am appearing vulnerable or angry, I’ll withdraw. It’s not that I’m ashamed. It’s just that I don’t think anyone needs to see that side of me. I’d just rather they see me smiling.

Recognizing weakness though, I think, is actually a strength. Bit of a pardox, no? But really, if I were satisfied with who I was every day why strive to keep improving?

All I can do –all any of us can do, really—is give the best I can each day. And realize that that is a strength, not a failure. If my best tomorrow doesn’t live up to my best today, well so be it.

For all the flaws, imperfections and weaknesses, I think it’s important to recognize, from time to time, that I have a lot of strengths as well. For one, I DO keep trying to give my best. As a wife, friend, teacher, student, runner, blah blah blah. I do hold myself to very high standards. I am honest, sometimes to a fault, and I value that highly. I can find ways to laugh at everything… EVERYTHING. I am determined. I am devoted to the people in my life and would walk through fire for them.

A shitty run is a shitty run. I shouldn’t let it get the best of me. Bad days happen. Things are beyond my control. If, in the face of them, I am able to say that what I gave was the best I could give then alright. Bring on tomorrow.

So That Happened!

Oh hai New Yearzzzz!!!

Yeah. 2010. So, that happened!

Those minutes, they just keep ticking by, don’t they? I am amazed sometimes at just how quickly time seems to move. Every day that passes is a smaller and smaller fraction of my life than the day before. Plus, it seems that the older I get the more ambitious and determined I become. There is so much to see, so many roads to run, so many books to read, so many experiences to have.

My to-do list seems to get longer every day. That being said, I’ve set some pretty ambitious goals for myself for the year.

1) Starting with the Austin Marathon in February. I don’t expect or particularly wish to best my time from the NYC Marathon, but I’d like to be able to run this one at a more consistent pace. I’d like for my wheels to not utterly fall off in the last 10k of the race. Which leads me to

2) Fitter and faster. A vague goal, sure. But I need to build strength and speed. I need to be as disciplined about my strength, stretching and cross-training as I am about my running. This all needs to happen if I want to

3) BQ at the NJ Marathon in May. This is ambitious. It means taking 10 minutes off my marathon time in six months. It may not happen. Especially if the BAA changes their qualifying standards, as they have all but promised to do. It may not happen, but I’m going to try my hardest to make it happen. In three years, I took 45 minutes off of my half-marathon time. 10 minutes in six months? We’ll see. I am nothing if not determined.

4) Run across the state of Massachusetts with a delightful bunch of lunatics. A 191 mile relay race. I can’t wait for that. Seriously. It’s going to be a blast.

5) Run the NYC Marathon again. Better than before. Stronger than before. With a smile on my face the whole time.

6) Run a sub-1:45 half.

Despite my general sort of grumble-grumbliness regarding New Years and resolutions and whatnot, I kicked off 2011 by running 20.11 miles. It was a beautiful day. It was exactly what I needed.

I did not close the chapter on 2010. I did not wake up on Saturday determined to change things about myself or determined to keep promises, which I will not uphold. Rather, I woke up just like any other day hoping to keep improving in the things I’ve been working on. To keep doing the best I can.

Oh, and also I kind of want to run an ultramarathon.

If Nothing Else…

As the year comes to it’s chilly conclusion, I find myself in the throes of introspection. Fairly typical, I’m sure. But I’ve never been one to engage in New Years shenanigans. I’m not really one for resolutions. I despise the pressure of finding somewhere fabulous to be, with fabulous people, a fabulous outfit and fabulous cocktails. I’d much rather sit at home in my pajamas, watch the Twilight Zone marathon and sip some single malt scotch, curled up with my husband and maybe a few close friends. To me, that is pretty friggin fabulous. This year, though, the navel-gazing is pretty prominent.

This year will forever be the year I view through a lens of loss. I accomplished a lot this year. I started the new career I’ve been working towards for years. I’m closer to finishing grad school. I ran my first marathon and did pretty well at it. I made lots of amazing new friends. With all that to look back on, I can’t help but feel a little bit sad and angry that I’m looking at it and saying to myself, “Look at all I did, in spite of…”

My perception is my own, and it’s up to me to change it, if I wish. But for now, it is what it is. And as my calendar begins to come into focus for 2011, there is so much more I want to accomplish. Maybe the way I’ve been looking at things isn’t the best. Maybe, for 2011 I will be able to say of myself not that I did things in spite of loss or sadness or anything – maybe I will be able to say I accomplished things because I could. Because I was determined enough. Because I was capable. I overcame obstacles. Because they were there.

Awhile back, I read that when mountaineer George Mallory was asked why he wanted to climb Everest, he replied, “Because it’s there.”

When I was planning a post-marathon tattoo, I had that quote in mind. I wrote to my friend, Scarlet, and she made a design for me. “26.2 Because it was there.” We face challenges because we have to. We overcome them. We move on. We grow.

At the end of it all, I would like to look back on this year and say, if nothing else, I learned that I am stronger than I thought.

I like pie.

Ya know, it ain't all about running. Ya need FUEL for that running! My fuel of preference, especially around this time of year is PIE. I love pie. Pie pie pie. In mah belly. I love pie.

Awhile back, my bestie Lauren & I developed a bit of a pie obsession. When we had exhausted ourselves, searching various diners in various boroughs of New York City for the best slice of pie we could find, we decided to create our own. And so was born Lauren & Sharon's Apple-Cranberry-Blueberry Pie.

Ingredients:
1 cup + 1 tbs sugar
1/2 cup cranberry juice
1 cup blueberries
1 cup cranberries
3 large apples (peeled, cored & sliced into thin chunks)
2 tbs all purpose flour
1 tsp lemon juice
2 pie crusts (store bought is okay)
2 tbs butter
1 tsp milk
1/2 tsp + pinch ground cinnamon

1. Stir 1/2 cup of sugar and cranberry juice in a saucepan over medium-high heat. Add berries and simmer. Reduce heat; simmer until liquid is absorbed, stirring often about 25-30 minutes.

2. In the meantime, toss apples, flour, lemon juice, 1/2 tsp cinnamon & 1/2 cup sugar in a bowl and mix ingredients together.

3. Preheat oven to 400°F. Put pie crust in bottom of a 9'' glass pie dish. Spread cranberry/blueberry mixture over crust bottom. Top with the apple mixture, and dot with butter. Put 2nd pie disk on top. Trim overhang to 1''. Press and crimp edges to seal. Cut 1'' hole in center. Brush crust with milk. Mix remaining 1 tbs sugar and cinnamon in a small bowl & sprinkle over crust.

4. Bake 15 minutes; reduce temperature to 375°F and bake until crust is golden, about 20-30 more minutes.

5. Let cool completely on a wire rack. Eat the shit outta that pie.

Thanks...

... for the time I had with those who've gone and every second I have with those that are still here.
... for the people that inspire me every day.
... for the ability to put one foot in front of the other, as fast as I can or as slow as I want. I will never take this for granted.
... for the people who believe in me.
... for the people who doubt me.

Final Thoughts

For the first few days after the marathon, I alternated between a huge grin and tears of gratitude. I can't get over how much fun I had and how much this whole experience has meant to me. The proof is in the picture, though, and clearly I was having the time of my life.

As for the metrics, I did sit down and analyze my 5k splits. Overall, I was fairly consistent except for that last 10k. The wheels came off a little bit there. I had anticipated that. I KNEW I started out too fast, but I was just having too much fun and felt too good to slow down. Honestly, I wouldn't have done anything differently.

That being said, I seem to have come down with marathonitis. I've registered for my second marathon which is just three months away. My goal for that will be to keep a consistent pace. A little faster, a little slower, whatever. Just keep it as steady as I can. So, look out Austin, Texas!

I've got myself some new shoes and a new goal. Let's lace up.

I am a Marathon Runner

After the Friday night pasta pow-wow with Josh, after the 2 mile shake-out run to the finish line Saturday morning, after the brunch with so many of my lovely runner friends, new and old, after watching Rocky training montages countless times, getting up incredibly early, after putting on four layers of throw-away clothing and heading down to the Staten Island Ferry with Joe, I found myself sitting alone at Fort Wadsworth in Staten Island. So. This is it, I thought. I've done all the work. And here I am. I didn't talk to anyone else. I just looked around at all the other runners. All of us had worked so hard to just to get here. All of us came here with different purposes, different goals. I hoped we would all achieve them.

When I lined up in my corral for the 2nd wave of runners, I heard the cannon go off, signaling the start of the 1st wave. From where I was, below the bridge, I could see the first runners take off, and my eyes welled up with pride and awe for all of them. For all of us. We made it this far.

And then it was my turn. It took about 8 minutes from the time the 2nd cannon fired until I crossed the start. I did a little gazelle leap over the starting line and yelled "Thank you!" for my friends. And then... I was running the fucking NYC Marathon! Oddly, in those first few miles I felt a little lonely. With all those people around me, I really wished I was running this along side all the people who've become so dear to me during these last few months. As we got a little further into Brooklyn, and the crowds of people cheering started to become 3 or 4 deep along the sides of the street, I patted my waist pack. There was a picture of my mother in there. A smile spread across my face. I realized that I was running this with everyone I wanted there with me, whether they were at my side or not. I was running this with them, for them, and because of them. Over the next 23 miles, that became my mantra. With them, for them, because of them.

A few more miles in, along 4th Avenue in Brooklyn I realized that I was absolutely having the time of my life. I'm not sure I could have been happier. I was absolutely cruising and loving every second of it. I had my name on my shirt and was smiling so hard at the many various accented versions of my name that people were yelling out in support. "GO CHAY-RONE, GO CHAY-RONE!" and in Hasidic Williamsburg, "GO SHEH-RUN!"

As I approached the Kosciuszko Bridge, I was already more than halfway there. I hit the halfway mark at 1:51:19. When I talked to Josh on Friday, I was full of doubt. I didn't know what time I was aiming for, realistically, and I didn't know what I was capable of. He told me, "You can do it in 3:50." At that halfway mark, I knew he was right. I COULD hit that time. And goddammit, I was going to! As I cruised along, I heard someone yelling my name frantically. I looked over my shoulder just in time to see Tavia waving and jumping up and down. I yelled back at her and waved. Just a little bit up ahead at mile 14, I saw Josh and his BRIGHT RED ARM SLEEVES. He ran with me for a bit, giving me some advice, asking how I felt. I'm pretty sure the only thing I could say back was "I FUCKING LOVE THIS!"

Just before turning onto the Queensboro Bridge, I saw my friend Karen with a great "GO SHARON PAIGE!" sign. And as I ran over the bridge, as I'd done dozens of times before when I used to live in Queens, it was eerily quiet. Having been bombarded by all the cheering for so long, this stretch allowed me to go into my own thoughts again. I thought of my other friends who were out there running this same course with me. With them. For them. Because of them. I turned onto 1st Avenue and into an absolute cacophany of screaming. I'd been told about the crowds at this point in the race, but I couldn't believe my eyes or ears. Thanks to her great big orange sign which read "GO SHARON, KEEP RUNNING, YA BUM!" I saw my friend Leigh in the crowd.

I cruised up 1st Avenue, and into the Bronx. When I saw the 20 mile marker, I thought back to this time last year as I stood at that exact spot for hours, cheering on strangers and waiting for my friends to come by. I thought about how strong and happy they looked. I hoped I was looking half as powerful as they did last year. I was still feeling pretty good as I crossed the Madison Avenue Bridge into Manhattan, but I knew I was losing a little bit of steam. I saw Josh again and he asked me how I was feeling. "Tired!" I replied. "That's not allowed," he told me. I smiled and nodded, and kept on moving. Just past mile 23, I saw Allen, who threw his hand out for a high 5 and yelled that I was still looking good. It was just the boost I needed, but I was definitely tiring out quickly at this point. I knew I'd see my friend Sam at mile 24, so I told myself, just get to Sam. Just get to Sam.

I entered Central Park, the place where I've run hundreds of times at this point. The place where most of this hard work was done. The place where so many friendships have been strengthened by thousands of footsteps. Just the week before, I ran this exact route with Maura, and we had talked the whole run about the gamut of emotions that we were both dealing with throughout the training and what we were anticipating at the finish. I thought about the morning before, running with Josh and his JDRF team, and seeing the finish. I was overwhelmed then, and the tears started to flow. I thought about all the people out there cheering for me. The strangers, the friends, all of them. I thought about the one person I wanted to be there cheering for me, more than any other. I thought about how much I missed her and how proud she would be.

Just past mile 24 I saw Sam and Erica. Erica jumped up and down and yelled "There's Sharon, There's Sharon!" and Sam just screamed. I screamed back and waved my arms, which I'm pretty sure used up the absolute last of my extra energy. I thought at that moment, "I'd really like to be done running now." The Wall. The knee that been hurting me a few weeks earlier flared up then. I was tired and hurting. I just wanted to be DONE. The only solution to that, though, was to finish as fast as I could. I could doubt myself as long as I wanted, and complain as loud as I could, as long as my legs just kept moving. So that's what they did. The distance between me and the finish line became measurable in fractions of a mile. With them. For them. Because of them. Over and over. The finish line was in sight now, and I looked up into the stands for Jeremy, my dad and my brother. I couldn't find them, but I just had to keep moving. I knew they were there. Just before the finish.

I crossed the finish line and stopped my watch. 3:50:27. Quietly, I said "Mommy, I did it."

I did not cry then, as I thought I would. I did not feel overwhelmed, as I was sure I would have. Instead, I felt completely satisfied and full of gratitude. I did it. I was a marathon runner.

After a long, slow, painful walk to collect my bags, I found Jeremy, my dad and my brother along Central Park West. We took a bunch of pictures with my finisher's medal, and I hobbled slowly towards my dad's car. They all told me how proud they were, and I just smiled. I was pretty proud, too.

After the most magical shower ever, I threw on some jeans and a pretty shirt and my medal and headed out with Jeremy to meet up with Josh, Erika and Baker for a celebratory drink. Over a glass of whiskey (WHICH I MISSED SO MUCH), I told Josh how my friend Mark had tweeted that my blog title was a liar by 25 minues. I said, as a joke, "Maybe I should change it to '52 Weeks to B.Q.'" "Yeah," Josh said, "But you'd be selling yourself short."

So. There it is. The next challenge.

I'm up for it.

My Blog is a Liar

Thank you

Sunrise doesn't last all morning,
a cloudburst doesn't last all day
Seems my love is up and has left you with no warning
But it's not always going to be this grey --George Harrison, All Things Must Pass


When I first decided to run this marathon, I knew I wanted to “test my mettle,” as they say. I could never have anticipated just how much of a test that goal was to become.

Tomorrow marks six months since my mother died. Some moments, it feels like eons ago, or someone else’s life entirely. But most times, it feels like I just spoke to her yesterday. Sometimes, I am just overwhelmed by the crush of sadness. Sometimes, I want to scream at her in anger. Some mornings, I wake up so sad, having had yet another dream where I see her but can’t talk to her, and I don’t even want to get out of bed. I just want to stay there, sink further and further into the comfort of my bed with Jeremy and cry until I can’t anymore.

A few days after the funeral, I was struggling to bring myself to do anything. I hadn’t been eating, or sleeping and I felt like I just couldn’t face the day. I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was call my mom and tell her some mundane detail about some mundane workday, or talk about the baseball season that had just started, anything. All I wanted was to tell her I loved her.

Instead, I got out of bed and went for a run.

And just like I couldn’t have anticipated the test I was about to endure, I couldn’t possibly have anticipated the extent to which running became my means of coping.


It was right around that time that I first emailed Josh to ask if he would be my coach for the marathon. I had made promises to myself and I didn’t want to give those up, but I was afraid that I couldn’t do it on my own. I knew I needed to be accountable to someone if I was going to get through training and be able to hold my head up and see this through to the end. I told Josh how I was feeling like some days it was just too much for me to handle. He was receptive and sensitive to what I was going through. He encouraged me when I needed it, which was pretty frequently. As soon as I was able to, I joined the Tuesday/Thursday Night Torture Group (Josh’s speedwork group). The first time I ran with the group was the hardest I had run in weeks. And when I got home that night, I had a smile on my face for what felt like the first time in ages. I almost felt like myself again.


Over the next weeks, I got to know more members of the group. I felt, in those first few miserable days after she died, that I was at my best when I was around other people. And here, I’d found myself with a group of people dedicated to bringing out the best in themselves and cheering each other on every step of the way. I needed that support. I needed that encouragement. Whether they knew it or not, they were helping me through the hardest time of my life.

There were, and still are, many many moments and days where I’m overwhelmed. But the more I ran, the more I felt that I was putting distance between me and my sadness. The more I ran, the more amazing friendships I formed with the other runners I had met. The more miles I ran, the more I remembered who I was and what I wanted for myself. The more I ran, the more I discovered strength I never knew I had. The more I ran, the more I realized that though my mom was gone, I was still here, and that my life was full of amazingly supportive, loving and giving people and how lucky I was to have each and every one of them. There are many who were a part of my life before I lost my mom, and many who’ve come to my life since then. I will never be able to properly express my gratitude to them all.

For all the phone calls, hugs, smiles, laughs, and shoulders to cry on. For the miles run, and the adventures planned. For the memories shared, and the ones we’ve yet to make. For cheering me on. For being my friends, when I needed you the most.

I had said awhile back that I didn’t want to ascribe any meaning to my marathon that it didn’t need to have. But I was wrong. With just over a week to go, I realize now that when I cross that finish line, the first words I say will be, “Mommy, I did it.” But when I cross the starting line, I will say, “Thank you.” For my friends. I would never have gotten to the start without you.