Thought 7: A ring on a finger . . .

As a seven-year-old girl, my life pretty much centered around 2nd grade at St. Teresa Catholic School, playing with my friends, dance class, swimming, Brownies, and keeping up with my older brothers. My parents hung the moon in my eyes (and still do). I loved playing with dolls and riding my bike around my neighborhood. Erica and Laura were my two best friends and playing at their houses was heaven for me. I always cried when I had to go home. Toys are always cooler at someone else's house. I was blessed to have a very innocent and carefree childhood. 

Sometimes he has had to be strong enough for the both of us, and sometimes that meant he wore a ring on his pinky finger.

Today I have the honor of celebrating 16 years of marriage to the love of my life and my very best friend. There are not words to describe how much I love my Bob and the blessings he has brought to my life. I believe with all of my heart that I would not be here without him. He loves me unconditionally and has never wavered in his loyalty and support. I could not be more proud of him as a husband, father, son, brother, uncle, friend, and professional. He is a great man. His heart is full for his family and friends and there is nothing he would not do for them. I am so honored to be a Hubbard and be his wife.

Bob and I met in 1994 during the spring of our freshman year at Furman University.  We did not start becoming good friends until the following spring. After a spring and summer of flirtation and a growing friendship, we started dating in September 1995. I knew I had found something special in Bob, but little did I know that God was sending me my greatest gift.

On July 24, 1997, I had an engagement ring put on my finger and I said yes to my sweetie when he asked me to spend the rest of my life with him. We were both 22 years old and less than two months out of college. We were babies, but we were crazy in love and knew we wanted to take our next steps in life together. Bob asked me to marry him the same day he moved to Tallahassee to start a PhD program in Chemistry at Florida State (now there is a story). We were not sure what the future would hold, but we just knew we wanted to do it together. So, the ring was now on my finger.

Less than 6 months later, on December 27, 1997, we were at the altar of the First Presbyterian Church in downtown Tallahassee saying our vows and promising to love and support each other forever in front of all of our family and friends . . . in sickness or in health. We exchanged rings and understood what they symbolized. Looking back, I don't think the promises and vows made on that special day can be truly understood until they are lived, until they are tested. It was less than two months into our newlywed days that our world changed forever. 

In February 1998, I started exhibiting my first symptoms of Crohn's Disease. We didn't know until about three years later that this was my diagnosis, but it was a rough ride getting there and an even rougher ride afterwards. I was just so sick. Bob was there. I didn't always know why I didn't feel good. He was there. In the midst of these early years, I decided to pursue my Masters in Social Work, and after a great deal of looking around at programs and Bob soul searching on what he really wanted to do with his life (not Chemistry), we decided to take my acceptance to the University of Michigan (Go Blue!) and move to Ann Arbor. Bob was supportive all along the way - a life changing move for both of us in almost every way. 

The health problems only became worse as the months and years continued. While earning my Masters degree, we traveled with my parents to Rochester, Minnesota so I could get evaluated at the Mayo Clinic in hopes of finding out why I was so sick. Bob held my hand the whole time, through every test and every doctor consultation. I did not have my first surgery until June 2001 when Bob and I decided that we needed a new treatment plan. There was not a medication or treatment that was slowing the progression of my Crohn's Disease. Through it all, Bob was there. 

If you have had any kind of medical procedure you know you are not allowed to wear any jewelry. I had never taken my wedding ring off for anything. At my most vulnerable moment, I had to let go and remove it. Instead of putting it in my purse or putting it in his pocket, Bob put my rings on his pinky finger (I have thin fingers like my dad). This became a tradition for him. Surgery after surgery (over 20 times over), I handed my rings over to Bob before they wheeled me away and he put them on his pinky and waited for me. This always provided me with a lot of comfort. It wasn't about the monetary value. It was about knowing that I was with him. 

I have struggled with the pain and stress my health challenges have caused Bob over many, many years. The time we lost. Always knowing he didn't bargain for this. Your twenties are supposed to be a carefree time, right? Not for everyone I have learned and I now know we were not alone. It was a terribly difficult time, but we don't choose to look at it that way. We have had a lot of fun over the years and would never let these challenges define our lives. The strength that we exhibited as a team is what makes us such a special love story today. We lived our vows and the promises we made to each other that cold and windy December day. We still do and it means so much more now. You could say we are lucky to have such a strong and healthy marriage and we would agree. However, we worked and fought very hard for it too. We have stood together and sometimes for each other. We now stand together as a family with our beautiful daughter and could not feel more complete. I hear God telling me every day, "You are going to have to go through this, but I am going to give you this." 

Thought 6: It's all in my head . . .

When I was six years old, my family moved temporarily from Titusville, Florida to Tallahassee while my dad served as Special Counsel to then Governor Bob Graham. I was in the first grade and had the chance to take a break from catholic school and school uniforms and move to this new "big" city.  I remember missing my friends dearly but it all went by pretty fast. Little did I know that on August 14, 1986 when I was 11 years old, Tallahassee would become a permanent move for our family as my dad started a new law firm. Little did I also know that, although we would miss our friends and life in the only town my brothers and I had ever known, it would be the best move our family could have possibly made - one of those decisions that most likely changed the trajectory of my life. 

Do you ever find that your head just gets in the way? Whether I am trying to motivate myself or rise up to a challenge or just make a simple decision, I just over think things. I also feel very deeply about people and ideas. While I believe these are strengths, it sure does make life difficult sometimes. I am also a world class worrier, but that is probably a topic all on its own. I do have a problem of letting my mind get in the way of my actions, whether I am thinking, feeling, or worrying, and most likely all of the above. This could apply to a lot areas of my life, as many of my loved ones would probably tell you. But lately I have found it is particularly relevant to my running.

I was sitting in my car one morning after I dropped Megan off at preschool. I do my short runs on the two days she is in school each week. It was a particularly yucky day as it was rainy and cold and the wind was picking up. Let's just say I really didn't want to get out of the car. Now that the colder weather has officially arrived, I find it harder (like most people) to get motivated. My mind goes to hot chocolate and a good book in a cafe - or, better yet, snuggling under my favorite green blanket in front of our lit Christmas tree. It takes a lot of effort to put on the layers, fleece headband, and sometimes, the running gloves. But, like I have said before, I never regret it once I start.

A good friend and veteran runner told me some wise words recently: "When running, your mind will always quit before your body." I guess they call this a runner's wall. I do walk some when I run, mainly on my long weekend runs and it is at regular intervals. I am currently running seven minutes and walking one. I hope to continue to increase this interval to one mile of running and one minute of walking. I find it motivating and sustaining to know I have a short break coming up. But maybe this is a mind game. It has worked for me in my training, and as my strength and endurance increases, so does the length between my breaks.  There is nothing wrong with walking and this is a strategy that works for a lot of people, including me. I just want to walk when I planned it, not when my mind thinks I need it.

As excited as I am about this journey, sometimes I just don't want to lace up the shoes. I have days when my mind just wants to walk.  My blood pressure is fine and I am not out of breath, but I just get tired. This is a struggle for me. My mind thinks it needs more rest and my body sometimes listens. I think training for a race, regardless of the distance, is not just training your body to run farther and faster. It is about training your mind and body to work together and be more in sync. I know what I am capable of and my mind just needs to work with my body better to make it happen. Is it a confidence issue? Probably. Is it fatigue? Sometimes. Either way, I will continue to use my training time over the next 11 months to make my mind and body work more as a team.

On one hand, my mind does take over on occasion and convinces my body to just slow down. On the other hand, my mind is what jump started me on this journey in the first place. I would not have committed to this blog, to this training time, and most certainly to a marathon, without it starting as a goal in my head. I would not have gotten out of the car that morning without my strength and motivation to keep this commitment to myself. When I think about my past and struggles I have faced, I would not be standing here if I did not know both in my mind and heart that I could keep going. It has actually taken me a long time to trust my body again - to feel like I would be ok physically - despite what might happen in the future. It is very difficult for me to say that out loud in fear of jinxing my good fortune once again.

In looking back over my life experiences, both positive and negative, I have come to a greater understanding of the mind-body connection. They don't function well if they are not working together. This is a constant challenge and does need training, whether you are talking about a marathon, a life challenge, or maybe even getting out of bed in the morning. My mom always told me that I am too hard on myself. Although I will always be working on this as a heavy thinker and worrier, I have found that having confidence in yourself and finding humor in any situation are your best weapons. If I can pair these assets with making my body as strong as it can be, I know I can get through most anything - even a marathon.

I guess I better stop here and go let both my mind and body go. It will be time to lace up again soon!

Thought 5: A thankful heart . . .

When I was five years old, my parents took my two brothers and I on a three-week trip around the country. We had a multi-stop plane ticket and hit cities from Maine to California. When I think back on this trip, my five-year old memories include my first Broadway shows in NYC, Peter Pan with Sandy Duncan and Annie. I remember the "No Vacancy" signs we continued to see one late night driving through Maine. I remember the glow necklaces at the Astros baseball game in Houston and I remember driving down the twisty turns of Lombard Street in San Francisco. An incredible trip and another example of my parents doing what they could to open our eyes to adventures beyond our boundaries. 

We went to the Clemson-Citadel game recently and it was Military Appreciation Day. They honored veteran and active service men and women in many different ways and I worked hard to pay attention to each moment while negotiating with a three-year-old in my lap eating frozen lemonade. But, there was one moment that struck me in particular. It was during halftime and Megan was getting tired. The band had finished their portion of the show and she had her head on Bob's shoulder. The names of the approximately 30 Clemson service men and women that had lost their lives over the past year were announced over the loud speaker and their pictures were displayed on the score board. The families of these men and women were on the field and honored in that moment. The band played Taps and all I could do was look at Bob with Megan and think of all the men and women that would no longer have the chance to connect with their loved ones because of the sacrifice they made to their country. This is a moment that sits close to my heart this Thanksgiving and my love and prayers go out to all service men and women, active or veteran, and their families for all they give to this country.

It's easy to say that I am thankful for so much this Thanksgiving - the blessings I try to thank God for every day. I am thankful that I am married to my very best friend who I am more over the moon for today than any other day of my life. I am thankful for my daughter and all the love and joy she brings to my heart every day. I am thankful for my dad and our relationship and that I can call him one of my very best friends. I am thankful as a sister, a daughter-in-law, an aunt, a niece, a friend to have so many gifts in my life both big and small. I am thankful for my health and the fact I am symptom free from issues I have faced and that I am able to participate in a running journey like this one. A home, a warm bed, security, food on my table, family, and good health - I am thankful for all of these things this Thanksgiving and every day.

I am thankful for the gift of adoption. It could not be more fitting for me that Thanksgiving, Megan's birthday, and National Adoption Month share the same month. The gift of adoption is not something that came to my life just three years ago. I was given this gift when I was born as my second brother Steve, who is three years older than me, was adopted by my parents at birth. I never really thought about this much growing up as Steve was just my brother and my parents never made it a big deal. It was a part of his story and it wasn't something I ever thought about much. Steve was always my brother in the same way my oldest brother Mike was my brother. Although we played the roles of teasing brother and irritating sister growing up, Steve and I could not be closer now as he is one of my very best friends. So, adoption was clearly a gift to me from the very beginning and a positive force in my life.

Although the story of how Bob and I reached the decision to adopt a child is long, the road after that decision was a good experience. I will share the first half of that story in another blog, but it all led to what was meant to be from the beginning, Megan as our daughter. We knew that from the moment we saw her. There is a lot of bad press and misinformation out there about adoption and people are so scared and intimidated to venture into the process. It is not easy and there are people that have had bad experiences and long roads with the journey, maybe even have given up. Bob and I had the opposite experience.

The greatest move we made as we got started was connecting with an adoption consultant. Once we connected and signed up with Nicole Witt at The Adoption Consultancy (www.theadoptionconsultancy.com), our adoption journey was off and running. Don't misunderstand me, adoption is a daunting and an extremely vulnerable process. But having an expert there to provide the education, help, and encouraging and honest voice was invaluable. She walked us through the process when we sat down with her at her office near Tampa in December 2009, and everything else was completed by phone and email. She claims she can help you through the process in 3-12 months, and we were matched with Megan's birthmother in July 2010, 8 months after we first sat down with her!

The first five months of the journey were spent on paperwork, paperwork, and more paperwork. We went through background checks, a home study, and spent countless time at Panera Bread drinking raspberry iced tea and completing our questionnaires and forms on our respective laptops. Nicole did the research and connected us with a list of agencies, mainly in Florida and Utah, that she thought would be a good match for us. We had a wonderful experience with our home study and the social worker could not have a been a nicer person, although I was terrified the day she came over to our house. The biggest undertaking of the applications was our adoption profile. It is a 12-page laminated book full of pictures and text, which is what is given to the birthmother when she is deciding on a family. I spent a lot of time at Kinkos making copies of applications for each agency we applied to and laminating page by page of probably 20 copies of our profile. That took me about 4 hours one day.

We were approved to be adoptive parents in May 2010 and the waiting began. We had no idea what to expect and it was difficult. We were presented to a few birthmothers along the way, which is hard because you never hear back from the agency if you were not selected. You just have to assume they declined after a certain period of time. But, one fateful day in July, we received a call from a Utah agency and our first connection with Megan was made. We had an initial conversation with the birthmother on the phone before being selected and the decision was made very quickly afterwards.

So, after two short months of waiting, we were on our way to becoming parents. We had regular communication with the birthmother from July to November when Megan was born. Although our worries and fears about this part of the process consumed us many days during that time, looking back, we had no need to worry. Megan's birthmother could not have been more giving and did everything she could to keep us informed and part of the pregnancy. She even mentioned the fact she was having a girl when I talked to her on the way to work one morning when I was driving Bob's car.  I like to call the mark on his car that I made when I turned quickly into my parking space at work to call him with the news our "it's a girl scratch." She even texted me an ultrasound picture.

We visited Megan's birthmother once in her hometown before the delivery and we all met in Utah in November 2010 for the big day. She let us both be in the room up until the point she started pushing and I was allowed to stay for the birth! We are forever grateful to her for this gift. She even let Bob's parents and my dad come up to her room later that day to meet Megan. Our agency was so supportive throughout the whole process and was at the hospital with us to make sure everything went as planned. We took Megan home from the hospital two days later to a local Residence Inn and stayed there for almost two weeks until the paperwork was cleared in Utah and Georgia for us to come home. Six months later we returned to Utah for the adoption to be finalized, a beautiful day for us as a family. Megan was baptized at our church in Atlanta the same week.

So, this Thanksgiving, I will be thankful for so many things, and the gift of adoption and all that it has brought to my life is one of them. If you are thinking about adoption and want any help or resources, please let me know. Every experience is different, but it is important to me that people hear the good things too. I have shared our consultant with several people over the years and always love paying it forward to ease the journey for others who are on their way to being connected with their dream come true too.

Thought 4: It's ok to be cocky . . . .

Wonder Woman was a big hit in the 1970s and was of course the theme of my 4th birthday party. It was held at Holder park in Titusville, Florida and my mom made capes for me and all my friends. There was an old army tank at the park that we always enjoyed climbing as kids. Trying to keep up with my two older brothers was always a big task for me. I often had a hard time climbing onto the tank by myself as there was not a natural place to plant your feet to push up. Sometimes I needed an extra push.  

A friend of mine and fellow runner gave me a challenge earlier this year. Those that live in the Atlanta area and know the stretch of road between South Cobb Drive and the Home Depot on the East-West Connector will appreciate this undertaking. She challenged me to run that stretch. To say it is hilly is an understatement. But, I was feeling good, even cocky I guess, and decided to try running it. There and back, it's about a 4.5 mile run. I parked at Home Depot, put my buds in my ears, and cranked up the playlist. Although it was chilly that day, I stripped off the long sleeve shirt early in the run. I knew it would be hard, but wow! I had my backside handed to me that day for sure. As I ran, I knew I had to share this experience in my blog, but I thought I would title it "Don't be cocky." The more I ran and the more I thought about it, I knew that my cockiness, gumption, confidence, or whatever word you want to use to describe the spirit inside you that gets you up a "hill," was what led me to take on the challenge in the first place.

Now that I have made the attempt, it is time to take what I learned from that run and use it as a starting point for my training. I am 9 weeks out from the Hot Chocolate 15K in January and I have not fit in a long run in nearly three weeks. I have let my running and gym time take a backseat to other plans. This is where I can get myself into trouble. This journey is so important to me and I have carved the time out in my life for my training. It is very easy as many know to let your personal goals take a back seat to your obligations to your family and others. Sometimes we don't have a choice, but many times it is my own head that gets in the way. I can talk myself out of a workout faster than most, letting my fatigue talk for me. I read a quote recently that said "The only workout you will regret is the one that doesn't happen." These words motivate me a lot. I never regret going for a run or going to the gym. Never.

What I do regret is not preparing my body with the resources it needs to do my very best. This is a big deal for me as my body needs extra fuel just to sustain itself during normal exercise, much less marathon training. Due to my past health issues, I now have a body that needs a lot more water and nutrients than most because it doesn't absorb these things or hold onto them as long as most other people. Not to say that everyone does not have to watch their nutrition and hydration, because they most certainly do. I just have to be extra careful. When I get dehydrated, I end up in the hospital very quickly.

So, to avoid all that unnecessary nonsense, I need to pay special attention to what I eat and drink, as well as when I eat and drink . . . right? This will probably be my greatest challenge during my marathon training (I may take that back when I am running 18 or 20 miles next summer). I have the hardest time with making sure I am attending to my nutritional needs. The past few years, I use my daughter as an excuse as I have been so focused on what she eats and drinks. But, if I am not getting all the fuel I need, I cannot be there for anyone else. My loved ones, in particular my husband and dad, have pushed me for years, "Are you drinking enough water?" or "Did you skip any meals?" I think this is a problem for a lot of people as we all lead crazy, busy lives. But, if I want to continue this journey, it is no longer acceptable.

I can look toward race day and imagine how good it will feel to cross that finish line. But, as we all know, it is not about the destination. I can feel it when I don't have enough fuel to give the run or workout what I know I can do. I want to give this journey my best, but in order to do that I have to attend to all the components of what will make this a success.

I would love to hear from others who share this challenge with me, as well as tips or resources that you have found helpful. I will share this advice and what I have learned in a future blog.

I am hoping what will come out of this besides three race medals and a lot of miles, is a stronger, more balanced Susie with new habits that I can carry forward into my 40s and beyond.  So, I will continue to let my spirit be cocky when it needs to be and give it the fuel it needs to take on any hills that come along my path.

Disclaimer: In honor of my husband, when I use the word "cocky," it is in no reference to the University of South Carolina - Go Tigers!

Thought 3: This ain’t my first rodeo . . .

When I was 2 ½ years old I started ballet. My dad was sitting in the first row at my first dance recital with a video camera. He said I walked to the front of the stage before the music began and said, “Hey dad, watch this!”

Dance has always been a part of my life, whether I was performer or just a spectator, my love and appreciation for the art of dancing has been a part of me. I emphasize more the "love" and less my actual talent. I took classes up into my freshman year of high school, with jazz always being my favorite. It has to be said that I am a proud fan of the movie Centerstage. I took a break in high school, especially when I learned that you had to do a toe touch to be on the dance team. I swam on my high school swim team, and my races of choice were either the 100M backstroke or 500M freestyle. I returned to dancing in college and joined the Furman University dance team. I have even taken some drop in classes over the years at a local studio in Atlanta. However, since leaving college, most of my touch with dance has been as a spectator, whether I was watching the Nutcracker at the Fox Theatre, seeing a Broadway show with my dad, sitting with my mom and aunt at Lincoln Center watching the New York City Ballet or enjoying the season tickets that Bob bought me to the Atlanta Ballet. Things come full circle now that I spend an hour every Monday morning watching my daughter Megan growing her love of dance as a new ballerina.

So, this is what I have known. I have always loved aerobic classes as my form of exercise, when I actually made it to the gym. I can’t even count how many gym memberships I have had over the years that have gone mostly unused. Sure my health problems have gotten in the way at different points, but I couldn’t always use that as an excuse. One thing was for sure, I was never a runner.

In my adult life, I have been a professional race spectator. I can make the signs and scream the “way to go” cheers for all that pass by me. My brother-in-law was the trailblazer for the Hubbard runners as he completed his first marathon in Atlanta on Thanksgiving Day 2005. The whole family was there to see it, including the new puppy. As the years went by, my awesome Hubbard sister-in-laws joined in as well as my hero of a husband. Bob and I have participated in several 5K races over the years as walkers, especially for the Crohn’s and Colitis Foundation of America. Those races always made me very emotional as I was surrounded by other people that were either suffering from or supporting someone with the same disease I was facing. I did try to keep my sense of humor as I wore my “They took my colon and all I got was this lousy t-shirt” shirt. Keeping my sense of humor has always been one of my greatest weapons.

Needless to say, watching my Hubbard siblings and my husband race all these years has been a charging experience, whether I saw my sister-in-law Tiffiny finish her first marathon in Atlanta or seeing my husband and sister-in-law Betsy cross the finish line of the Disney marathon and high five Mickey.  I watched them on that journey and imagined what it meant to meet that goal.  But I knew it wasn’t just about that day, but all the days and runs that led them there that was the real journey. I was so inspired and proud of all of them and started thinking and wondering . . . could I do it?

This road over this next year is not my first attempt at training for a race. In 2008, I signed up with my very dear friend to walk/run the 2009 Atlanta Half Marathon. I really wanted to give this distance a try and it meant so much to both my friend and me. Bob and I were in the middle of infertility treatments and trying in vitro fertilization. We were in our third attempt leading up to the race and I was scared to train too much as I didn’t want to jeopardize our chances of getting pregnant. The procedure was not successful, but I showed up on race day and we finished together with our hands in the air. It was a personal victory for both of us. But I was not satisfied. I knew I didn’t give it my very best. Bob and I share a love of Walt Disney World and decided in the spring of 2009 that we were going to sign up for the Disney Half Marathon in January 2010. I even started training for a sprint triathlon that spring as well, something I always wanted to do. To emphasize the magnitude of the months that followed, we had our fourth and final unsuccessful in vitro fertilization attempt, my mom passed away in July, and three weeks later I had a full hysterectomy due to my worsening case of endometriosis. The hardest months of my life. My training did not happen that fall, but I showed up on race day in January 2010 and we finished together with our hands in the air.

Something about running made me feel alive and powerful. 

I know I am a competitive person, but this wasn’t about competing. It was about showing myself that I could do better. Let’s try this again. In 2012, I starting thinking about this idea, this blog, and running a full marathon the year I turned 40. Before I reached that milestone, I wanted another try at the two races that I wasn’t able to give my all. I started training again in March 2012 and ran the Mableton Day 5K that May. I found out weeks before that I had a malignant tumor in my left kidney that was operable and needed to be removed. I showed up on race day and ran a personal best. I had the surgery in June 2012 and after a month of recovery, put my running shoes back on and continued my training. A very dear friend decided to join me in training for the Disney Half Marathon in January 2013. My training went really well and I pushed myself harder every week, sometimes ignoring the pain in my leg as I hit mile 6 or 7. It eventually went away. We packed up our toddlers, husbands, and enough groceries each to feed a small army and headed for the Happiest Place on Earth. I showed up the day of the race and we both made our personal best times! I was very pleased with myself and could not wait to give the Atlanta Half Marathon another try.

After ignoring the growing pain in my leg that I exacerbated on race day, I headed to see a physical therapist.  I learned two lessons from the Disney training and race. First, when training, it is important to both strengthen your muscles alongside your running. I had only been running and injured my left iliotibial band. Ouch! It took me months to calm it down. The second lesson I learned is to run the race for which you trained. I pushed myself harder than ever as I was so excited. But, I hurt myself worse in the end because I didn’t take the breaks I had planned for and my body was used to having. Needless to say, due to my injury, I was not able to participate in the 2013 Atlanta Half Marathon. I showed up the day of the race, and cheered Bob on the whole way. I was so proud of him.

So, here I am. I have a new goal and renewed motivation. The Hot Chocolate 15K in January, the Atlanta Half Marathon in March, and the Chicago Full Marathon next October have my name all over them. I am hitting the gym, putting the time in, and living my life. Let’s see where this journey goes, but I know I can do it. Whether I watched you or ran with you, thank you to all of those who have paved the way for me.

Thought 2: This is Dedicated to the Ones I Love . . .

My first house had a pool in the backyard and my dad had me in the water when I was only 8 or 9 months old, dunking me and teaching me to swim. My first birthday involved a white cake with red sprinkles, a messy face, my best friend Laura, and my family. I had a bald head until I was almost three and my mom had to tape bows to my head to get them to stay. Simpler times for sure.

I ran a 5K (3.1 miles) this weekend in Clemson, SC with my wonderful in-laws. I have done a lot of training runs in Clemson, but this course was brutal, even for 3 miles. Lots of hills, but a beautiful day and for a very special cause – Helen’s Hugs (www.helenshugs.org). This nonprofit organization is in memory of a young woman who was tragically killed in a car accident in 2006. Helen was an accomplished equestrian as well as a nursing student at Greenville Technical College. The race/walk generated funds to provide opportunities for special children to participate in therapeutic equestrian programs. It feels so good to participate and be part of something that has meaning. Running and living with purpose is so important to me and I am blessed to have had so many loving and supportive family members, friends, and even strangers in my corner who drive me to want to do better and live stronger.

There is nothing more important in my life than my relationships. They are truly my greatest blessing. I am unable to write about my past or present without my relationships coming into the narrative. Sometimes it’s about the moments along the way – the pajama care package that my college friends sent me in the hospital, the tabloid magazines the my brother makes sure I have, the bosses and co-workers that were always so understanding and supportive, the Thanksgiving dinner that was sent to Bob, my parents and I after a tough hospital stay, my Hubbard siblings who showed me running and made me believe I could do it too, the surprise visits, my co-worker and friend who donated blood for me before my first surgery, my brother who worked hard to tell me a new joke before every procedure, the nurses who encouraged me to keep walking the halls and the doctors who laughed at my jokes, the care I received at home from the mothers in my life, and my daughter telling me “You go running mommy, way to go mommy.”

My core relationship is my family - my husband and my daughter. Talk about blessings. I will talk about them both a lot more in future blogs, but this was the best place to introduce my home team. It is like I can hear God saying to me, “You’re going to have to go through all of this, but I am going to give you Bob and Megan as my gift.” Bob has been there for me during my highest highs and my very lowest lows. He is really the only person that knows the whole story as he lived it right alongside me. There is not a moment he has not been there. We are celebrating our 16^th wedding anniversary in December and I could not be more proud of who we are as a couple and the battles we have fought together. He was the one that had to do all the worrying and all the waiting. I am forever indebted to him and so very proud to be his wife.  Although she has only been part of our lives for three years next month, we would not be us without our Megan. We adopted Megan and were there with my dad and Bob’s parents when she was born in a small hospital outside Salt Lake City. We cannot have any regrets because if we changed anything about our journey, we would not have her, our dream come true. Her spirit and loving heart keep me grounded every day and always lets me know what is most important. My journey - both past and present, and in and out of my running shoes - is only possible because of Bob and Megan and is for Bob and Megan.

It is easy to say that I would not be here without my mom and dad.  But, I believe from the bottom of my heart that I was given the very best parents.  They were always there and held me accountable while giving me the space and trust to be my own person. They have always believed in me, especially when I did not. They gave me every opportunity in whatever I wanted to do in this world. They always provided me with the comfort that let me know that everything would eventually be ok.  Each of their support came in its own unique way.

First of all, I look just like my dad. We have the same eyes and same hands. My dad not only taught me how to swim, but he instilled in me my love of writing and I am sure many would say a heavy influence on my political views. When my medical problems started, there was no way my dad was going to let me get down about it. He faced his own battle with Crohn’s Disease starting as a teenager and never allowed me to believe I was nothing but a fighter. He wore out the seat in many hospital chairs, although I had to send him out for a walk many times because he gets so restless. My dad is not afraid to jump in the deep end and lives his life fighting the good fight. Although many know him as a funny man, my dad has the heart of a lion and would do anything for his family. He is one of my very best friends and always has been. 

And to my dedication . . . the story of my mom and our relationship goes to the core of who I am as woman, a wife, a mother, and a friend. There is no woman in my life that has had a bigger influence on me. My mom was always there. Even when I did not think I wanted her to be, she got on a plane and showed up at the hospital anyway. She was there every day during the five weeks I spent in the hospital for surgery and complications. She and Bob went to the mall and bought me my first iPod, a pink one, during that visit, and Bob went home and downloaded all my favorite music. She brought me Oreos and Ben and Jerry’s Chocolate Chunk. She was also the one that had the nurse in a corner in the hallway when my epidural came out and the nurse did not believe that I was in pain. She was very much a Mama bear. She was there with her hand, her conversation, her snuggles, her treats, and her gumption.

I dedicate this blog to my mom, Joan Boulineaux Nabors, who passed away on July 28, 2009 from a brave and courageous battle to beat Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS). Losing her is by far the greatest challenge of my life so far. My mom is my hero and I miss her terribly every day. I live and run for her and want to share my story and journey with you in honor of her. My mom and I still had more words to say, more daily phone calls to share, more sappy movies to cry over, more music to blast in the car, more Starbucks iced tea lemonades to drink. Can I just say how much she would have loved the show Parenthood? I did not get to share motherhood with her. However, the more I get up every day and live my life, I feel her presence more and more. Although I will always want more, I feel her nudging me along and sense what she would encourage me to do.

She would be proud of me. I run and live for her, for me, my family, with the spirit of life that my parents instilled in me – give back to others and be your best self. 

Thought 1: My 40th Birthday, minus 365 days

I was born on October 12, 1974 in Titusville, Florida right after midnight, at just under 9 pounds. I am the third child in my family and the only girl. My dad was introduced to me by the doctor running down the hallway, with the blanket open and my naked newborn body there for all the world to see.

I am terrified. Writing this blog, will anyone read it? Does that even matter? Will my story or what I have to say make an impact on someone else? These are just a few of the unanswered questions for me as I put myself out there in a new way. I have always been a very open person and willing to share my experiences and feelings.  But this journey will be a new one for me. I have been thinking and talking about writing this for a long time. I am excited about putting my ideas into action and seeing where it leads me.

I heard a movie line recently that said, “I want to live my life, not survive it.” This struck me deeply and gave me additional inspiration to share my journey, both past and present. Running has grown to be a bigger part of my life over the last few years, with my activity level changing due to other life circumstances. I will share more about my health challenges as I write more, but over the past 16 years with my amazing husband, parents, family, and close friends by my side, I have battled a serious case of Crohn’s Disease, endometriosis, infertility, and most recently, operable renal cancer. These health issues led to over 25 surgeries and more hospital stays and complications than I can count. Although this blog is not focused on all of those experiences, it is part of my story and a big driver in my wanting to challenge my body in healthy ways. I am blessed to be in good health at the moment and will hold on to that blessing.

So, here is my plan over the next 365 days. I am running at least three days a week right now with my longest run so far at 6 miles, which I completed for the second time this morning. I am also trying to hit the gym two days a week with my almost three-year old daughter in tow. My first goal is the Hot Chocolate 15K (9.3 miles) in Atlanta on January 26, 2014. My next goal will be the Publix Half Marathon (13.1 miles) in Atlanta on March 23. I will then continue my training until I reach my final goal of running the 2014 Chicago Marathon (26.2 miles) on October 12, my 40^th birthday!

This blog is a journey and about a journey. I have faced my  hardest days right alongside my greatest days. I have learned a lot about life and myself in my first 39 years that I believe has value in being shared with others, with you.  I know so many people that have faced greater challenges and different challenges and I have learned from each of them and gained so much hope and inspiration.  I have found myself getting lost along the way and always asking myself “What’s next?” It always seemed to be something and I was going day to day and month to month on survival mode. Well, no matter what might lie ahead for me, I am ready to change the tune of my life and ask the same question in a new way.  As I run forward with excitement, dread, motivation, terror, and inspiration, I now ask the question, “What’s next!”