My European Tour, Part II: Paris Exhaustion and Exploration

So we landed safely...but I had a major fail on the plane...I didn't sleep. I tried to fake it the best I could, but I just couldn't do it. Instead, I proceeded to watch the the little plane travel on the little dotted line across the vast blue of the ocean of the inflight TVs. I think it hypnotized me. The good news is that once we took off, I did not freak out (although the bumps across the ocean contributed to my lack of sleep). They "woke us up" around 6am Paris time (midnight in TX), and then Jennifer informed me she didn't sleep either (she's a better faker than me!). They fed us breakfast of a croissant and fruit, and set us off in a foreign country. I confess, landing there and having them greet us in French was completely surreal...I had NEVER done anything like this in my life.

We get off the plane, and I'm somewhat delirious, to the point that I was completely confused when I stepped on this moving inclined thing that was NOT an escalator.

I guess these are the famed tubes from U2 videos, album covers, etc.

We then proceeded to run around the airport (literally around...it's a circle) trying to find the shuttle. What felt like 3 hours later (but was in fact only about 30 minutes), we got in our shuttle, and then proceeded to weave our way through terrible traffic that included bikes and motorcyles with an utter disregard for lanes or safety for that matter. Two hours later (and a miserable nauseous feeling for most of it) we made it to the hotel. Managed to throw ourselves together, leave our luggage behind, and head out into the streets of Paris with only a map.

FIRST IMPRESSION: Well there's a reason Patrick and I are meant for each other...(remember his comments on not wanting to go back to Paris)...
Paris smells like cigarettes, perfume, and body odor in that order. I think I'm one of those people highly affected by scent, so it was just completely overwhelming to me. Not to mention, it is fairly dirty. I think I could get over the general dirt if it weren't for the smell to accompany it. I did my best to try to get past it over the course of the next week, but I didn't really find anything overly "romantic" about Paris.

We made our way towards the Seine and then turned left around a big building, and OOPS, we accidentally ran into the Louvre!

We then took 2.5 hours to make what should have been a 45 minute walk to the Eiffel Tower. Part of that was due to our failed attempts to locate an ATM. We were sleep deprived, hungry, and clueless, so we're lucky we made it there at all. We literally kept losing the Eiffel Tower, then would come around the corner of a building and be like "Oh there it is! Look it's getting bigger!".

We had lost it again, when we turned a corner and saw this!

Pretty impressive honestly!

I couldn't help but take a picture of this sign near it...no drinking AND no picking flowers...that sucks! ; ) 

We then proceeded to wait in line for quite a while after which we learned we had to take the stairs up to level 2 of the Tower...LOL! Stairs are normally not a problem, but again see sleep deprivation and 2.5 hr walk referenced above ; ) We made it up, and it was pretty freaking cool.

 Had to take a pic of this soccer field for Patrick.

Then we took an elevator up, up, up (and you could see out of it!) to the very top. It was awesome! So we took more pictures, and I was slightly concerned I was going to drop my phone out of the fence.

We made it down and then noticed that all of the policemen we had seen earlier were now wearing riot gear, then multiple vans pulled up and spilled out more and more policemen in riot gear all marching in formation. Then we see the RIOT coming down the street! Something about better wages for city workers. There were several large booms and they were setting off flare guns, so we quickly ran across the street to a better place to take pictures of it all.

The booms continued, but we were far enough away (and you know, not French) to not be bothered by it. So we posed for our obligatory Eiffel Tower picture.

 We then noticed a very large naked statue, so obviously I had to take a picture with it.

By the end of the next day, I would be completely desensitized to naked sculptures.

Finally after that, we managed to find a place to eat a late lunch. The food was ok, but the cappucino after was honestly the best (and prettiest) I've ever had!

At this point, our hotel room was finally ready for check-in...did I ever mention I'm claustrophobic?...that would be another strike against visiting France...LOL!

Um, this was a double room...Jennifer and I have never been closer (literally).

The bathroom, now I understand why Patrick didn't like France. How's a regular sized man supposed to fit in that?

We managed to get a decent night's sleep and then decided to head out to the Louvre (To the Louvre!! inside joke if you've ever seen Eurotrip).
This is right outside the Louvre...just beautiful (and a gorgeous day).

 Apparently you're supposed to stand on these things and take pictures...so we did.

 I continue to be amused by their signs.

 And can't help but become paranoid by the constant reminders of "pickpockets".

The Louvre was pretty freaking awesome. I didn't even know I liked art all that much but how can you not be taken by the beauty of seeing "Winged Victory" in person.

 And of course there was the Mona Lisa...the least impressive of all that I saw....

 For some reason I was extremely moved by this picture...horrible and beautiful all at once.

 We really enjoyed the medieval moat in the middle of the Louvre...super crazy but way cool!

 Mary Magdalene a la Da Vinci Code fame.

More naked statues...I'm still making jokes like a 12 yr. old boy wishing Patrick was there to make them with me.

 More random Louvre coolness.

And then we headed back to the hotel where I would begin the next leg of my European adventure...a train trip to Brussels!!

My European Tour, Part I: Pre-Trip and Flight Out!

PRE-TRIP FREAKOUT!!!!
So I'd say the freakout started about 6 months ago when I was told I was needed at this conference...in Paris. Me, who got my first passport last summer for the purpose of going to TORONTO (does Canada really even qualify as another country?). Mom heard the worst of it, and then quickly said that she would cover whatever the kids needed and that I needed to go. I appealed to Patrick but unfortunately got the same response "You have to go!" He had been to Paris about 3 months before we met (many years ago), and hated it, so he basically said this was my only chance. This was still not motivation to get on a plane for that long...nor was it sufficient motivation for me to leave the kids for that long.

My fundamental problem was one that few moms deal with. I could get over the flight anxiety, I could get over missing my kids, missing Patrick, I could get over being in a strange land where I did not know the language. What I could not get past was trying to leave my son when I had no way of explaining to him that I was going to be "missing" but that damnit I would absolutely come back (and then the evil voices in my head would start talking about worst case scenarios and what if I didn't come back). How do you explain that to a pre-verbal autistic child? Our awesome teacher made us a book...that explained that I was going on an airplane, that he would stay with Nina and Papa, that Larkin would be with him, and that the end of the story was that I would come back. I hoped so badly that he knew that...that I would come back...

I was basically a mess the days leading up to the trip. The day before I was to fly out, I even took Larkin with me to work. She was awesome, had the best time. Turns out the scientist's white board is extremely impressive to an almost 4-year old. Tie that in with a lunch trip to McDonald's, and maybe I have her on board to pursue a career in science. The best part of the day was when we were walking to the lunchroom to say goodbye to everyone. Right after someone commented on how tall she was (her Daddy's genes) she fell face first over her own feet (to which Jennifer said was attributed to her Mama's genes...so true)...she really is a combination of the two of us ; )

That afternoon, I tried to get myself ready...got my hair done, got my nails done...in this appropriate color ; )

I lost it several times that afternoon to which Larkin's response while smiling was "Mama, why are you crying like a baby?"

I was a mess, I fully admit it. The next morning I tried my best to hold it together and failed miserably. I managed to pack the kids and get them on their way with Patrick...and then sat there for at least 15 minutes and did the ugly cry. I was absolutely terrified that something was going to happen to me over the next 8 days. What would happen to the 3 of them (notice I've included Patrick with the kids...), how would they ever explain to Kellen that I wanted to come back, how would their world's keep moving? I was mortified...so I cried...then I couldn't stop crying...so I went for a run (while crying), then took a shower (while crying) and finally got dressed.

I had all my bags downstairs...waiting for the car to pick me up...I'd still be waiting. Turns out that no one "picked up the ticket", so there was no one to come get me. I am thankful for Patrick's quick thinking and for Lauren and Aaron for coming to take me to the airport at the last minute...God that was stressful.

When all was said and done, I made it to the airport in time for Jennifer and I to sit down to a meal (and for me to have 2 glasses of wine). I thought I was doing pretty good...and then my phone stopped working while on the plane...I freaked out about not being able to call Patrick and the kids, then finally it started working, Patrick answered and asked me if I'd had wine, to which I answered tearfully "I think I undershot it!" He agreed and urged me to just hang on until the drink cart came through the first time. I pulled myself together, turned off my phone, and tried to convince Jennifer that I was not a complete disaster.

Notice I have cried off all remnants of make-up....

We pulled away from the gate, and I told her that the next 10-15 minutes were going to be the worst for me, I hated taxiing and the waiting, and OMG! they accelerated out of nowhere and I had just enough time to bless myself and get my hands on my necklace (the one I wear with the kids' names on them) before we were airborne!

And then I was okay...I would be okay. My entire family had put me on that plane with their blessing. They wanted me to have the experience, they wanted me to have the break...so I would make the most out of it, and have some fun along the way....
I come from a very small town (most of you know that), the idea of going to Europe is a little out there for most. I had completely taken this opportunity for granted. The fact that my parents, my grandparents, had never gotten to do this...and that maybe they'd wanted to...and that maybe someday Larkin would want to and I could say "Well, the last time I was here...". So for everyone that wanted to but couldn't, and for my kids who maybe someday would, I vowed to make the most of it...and I think I did a pretty good job...to be continued ; )

That Mom

Warning: This post contains raw emotion and brutal truth…but really it’s not that much of a stretch from what I normally post…regardless…this is real life.


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Target. We’re Target people. Some people like Wal-Mart, some people like CostCo, once upon a time there were K-mart people, but we’re Target people…Larkin will tell you.

Kellen had a good home visit with his teacher today, and we got some new ideas for activities for him. So I decided to pack him up and head to Target to spend a Target giftcard he had gotten for his birthday to get some of the supplies…and then all hell ensued.
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Once upon a time I was known as “that girl”. Many of you remember that. There was a whole poem I wrote to go along with it. It basically revolved around one day where I had to go get yet more bloodwork drawn for my infertility work-up and upon recounting my history to the young girl drawing my blood, she gave me a look of such sympathy, that I finally realized I was “that girl”. She saw freaking infertile women all day long, but I was the one that had it bad, I was the one that warranted the sad sympathetic look with the pat on the hand, and the “there’s still hope” speech…I was “that girl”…the one no one wants to be, the one everyone was afraid to be…that was freaking me.

And guess what…today I graduated…to “that mom”.
~~~~~~~~~
All I wanted to do was take my son to Target…so those of you that can successfully do that with one kid (or 3 or 5), well just be grateful is all I can say. It’s not like I was trying to grocery shop. I was trying to get him a few things…and find a piggy bank…since he broke theirs yesterday and Larkin was upset.

It started off well…raining outside which he loves, got in the cart without a problem. Made it to the back of the store…and then a portal to hell appeared halfway through the toy aisles. There was nothing, absolutely nothing I could see that he wanted in our current aisle. I had picked up this blinky sensory looking thing as soon as we got there so he had something not to mention the two cars we came in with. He lost it…no consoling him. So I attempted to get him out of the cart. He took me 3 aisles over…to a Finn McMissile…SUCCESS! He knew what he wanted…it was $25 but oh well, he CHOSE something. He was walking around with it babbling contentedly so I decided to wander back over the 3 aisles to our original cart. I put him back in and not 1 minute later, he shoved the car at me and freaked out.

Ok, fine, I’ll open it. I did. Still not happy.

I took him out of the cart, Finn in hand, still not happy. <<<People are staring…they think they’re staring at a spoiled kid…I’m too busy trying to figure him out to turn around and explain…but I’m aware…very aware of the eyes>>>

I try to walk with him, pushing the cart, trying to get the Legos we came for…tantrum…and tantrum…<<<and now the Target workers are staring>>>. I continue talking calmly and trying to figure out what his trigger is.

He’s finally lost it enough that I put him back in the cart. I try some of the tricks his teacher has taught me (squeezes, tickles, sensory type things), nothing works…it just gets worse.

And then the nightmare hits it peak….literally. He starts lashing out so bad that I’m afraid he’s going to hurt himself in the cart. While I’m trying to unbuckle him, he’s trying to hit me, bite me, kick me…<<<EVERYONE is staring now>>>. I try to turn down a less traveled aisle, but we don’t make it. I get him out of the cart. At that point, he ends up on the dirty ground of Target, in such a tantrum that he’s lost both shoes, and I’m having trouble staying within 12 inches of him due to the flailing feet, arms, etc. <<<We happen to be near the baby section…I see a very pregnant woman look over at us, and give us “that look”… guess what lady…if that’s a boy you’re carrying…1 in 70 chance that this is you in 3 years…if you knew that, would you sit there with that judgmental look on your face?>>>

At this point, I knew it was over. We’d never make it through checkout. With an already opened toy in our cart, I put his shoes in my purse, I gathered him up the best I could (facing outward…that generally prevents the worst of the hitting, biting, kicking), and proceeded to walk out of Target carrying my poor tormented son with my head held as high as possible.

<<<People stared…everyone stared…because everyone stares at “that mom”>>>

There was one particular mother/daughter pair that couldn’t seem to tear their eyes away for the entire time I was walking towards them/past them on the way to the exit (which felt like about 5 hours). They had the look of “oh my God, that is one bad kid”. And there it was…I couldn’t stand it anymore. I very calmly said “It’s not bad behavior…he’s autistic”. Their faces changed at once, and the mom put her hand over her heart and said “oh my gosh, I’m sorry.”

Is she sorry that she was staring and judging me? Or is she sorry that my son is autistic?
~~~~~~~~~
When I was infertile and miscarrying (again and again), well meaning people would always say things like “in God’s time” or “it will happen when it’s meant to” while I was currently bleeding my entire insides out. There was that constant reinforcement of “It’s not your fault”. But when those same people see you with a disaster in the middle of the aisle at Target, the sympathy is gone and they assume you’ve done something wrong. Your child is a behavior problem, and it IS your fault.

No, guess freaking what, I prayed for a healthy baby just like you, and I got a little more of a challenge, so how about a little freaking compassion. What I would have done for someone to pick up his shoe one aisle over and just throw it in the freaking shopping cart while I was being hit and kicked just trying to keep him safe. Do you think I’m talking to him in a calm voice because I’m a bad parent? No, I’m just trying to keep it from getting freaking worse. I’m trying ANYTHING to calm him. Because there’s no freaking doctor that can tell me what to do…because they don’t exist, they don’t have a freaking clue, either.

I can’t tell you how many moms lately I’ve seen slap their kids on the hand or butt because they’re whining or want something, and that mom who looks like she could care less can’t be burdened with their request at that moment because they’re too busy on their phones or reading the magazines at the checkout aisle.

What I wouldn’t GIVE to know WHAT THE HELL IT IS that he wants, that he needs. I would freaking give it to him if I just knew.
~~~~~~~~
I never cried in the store…I carried my screaming flailing 3 year old out to the car in the rain, buckled him in his car seat while talking calmly under his tormented screams, went around the car, sat in the drivers seat and let a few tears fall…you can only hold it together so long.
~~~~~~~~
I hope someday to run into “that mom” at Target.

Because I will retrieve her kid’s shoe.

Because I will take her cart to the front, buy the 2 things she needed and take them to the car for her.

Because I will show her compassion and show her that I know that raising one son with autism is harder than raising 6 neurotypical kids.

Because I will show her that she’s not alone…as many of you have done for me…I wish you guys had been at Target today…because not only would you guys have gotten his shoe…you would have gotten me a latte and a bottle of wine.

So for those of my fellow “that mom”’s, this glass of wine is for you.

And for those of you that would have cared enough to get his shoe…thank you…the world needs more people like you…more than you, or the world knows…but “the moms” know what’s coming…what’s already here…and it’s days like this that remind me that I still need to enlist in the war.

KK turns 3

My sweet boy somehow managed to turn 3 without my permission. It was met with a great deal of mixed emotion. He was to start a new school district program on his actual birthday. This was finally our chance to move forward with him, and we had (and have) so many hopes for him. But before we jumped into those waters, we celebrated.

We celebrated the knowledge of what he was struggling with, we celebrated progress however small, we enjoyed him, and let him guide us that day. Unfortunately, the weather sucked, so our original plan for the zoo (and for letting him lead us around on foot at his own pace) was not an option. We decided to hit the aquarium. Interestingly, this is what we did for his birthday weekend last year, but I'm happy to say that this year he had so much more fun.

He enjoyed last year, but mostly because we allowed him to walk (no confines of a stroller or the usual zoo wagon situation). But we had many meltdowns, and we were constantly trying to plan ahead.

This year, he walked in happy and left happy. It rained (poured) the whole way down there, but Kellen loved it. From the minute we got out of the car and stood near the waterfall, he was engaged and present and happy and busy and just...KK.

I may have made him this shirt for the occasion...not that we're overly camouflage people, but there are few "boy patterns" LOL! He rocked it anyway!

This may be one of my favorite pics ever of us!

 Patrick's getting pretty good with that fancy camera...

 Happy boy running back and forth between us (and the fish).

   Larkin even got to take a picture with a Scarlet Macaw, which she was super excited about...the macaw, not so much.

 I'm not sure he actually touched a stingray, but he thoroughly enjoyed sticking his hand in the water...which in itself is an improvement!

 Yes, the fake tiger is still staring down at us...

And then Monday came...and with it not only his real 3rd birthday, but his first day in "school". He came home happy, engaged, and my sweet boy. I made special cupcakes for the occasion, and we snapped a few dinner pictures.

 "Tristan, you have some food on your nose..."

 "Daddy, are you sure you're using the right camera setting?"

 "Oh my God, a cupcake...and it's on FIRE!"

 "Man, that cupcake was good...any chance we can do this every Monday?"

And so he turned 3...and I have two 3 year old...for a couple more weeks at least ; )
And I find myself looking very much forward to his post on turning 4 next year...so much hope...so much work to do...but the hope drives us...we will get there, and it will all be worth it...because he, because we...are worth it.
Happy Birthday KK.

Houston Marathon 2012 Race Report

Um yep, I ran another marathon and have been so caught up with the rest of life that I forgot to write a race report (thanks for the reminder Kerri!).

I ran Houston again this year, and I was far better trained this year than last. I managed to stay mostly injury free, and I ran significantly more miles than last year. Interestingly, I ran more miles, but I ran every single mile slower (over a minute per mile slower!)...yet finished WAY faster.
This year I also ran for a charity...the Organization fo Autism Research. That also played a huge part in how hard I trained and how much I could endure on marathon day. I ran for my KK and for all of our sanity.

Anyway, so I was smart enough to take the day off on Friday before the race to hit the expo and do some shopping. I got a couple of things, but I had one particular find that I absolutely loved.

As is typical for January, Patrick had a tournament that weekend. So thankfully, my mom came up and helped me with the kids that Saturday. This was great because I had to take Larkin to a birthday party, during which I feel like I pulled a back muscle! Then I realized at 5pm that I did not have enough Gu Chomps to get through the race...and had to run to Academy in a hurry! Mom kept me sane, and I went to bed early ready for my early wake-up!

The morning went mostly as planned, but it was freaking cold!I had tons of throw away layers, but I debated what I really needed. I managed to head to the convention center with just a throw away jacket. We were a little late, but managed to meet up with Annie, Beth, etc. and got a quick girls picture.

Annie and company headed to the "fast" corral LOL!, and Patrick walked me to the B corral where we ran into Ginger! I am wearing not only my throw away jacket but also Patrick's soccer parka...it was COLD!

I feel like it took forever to get to the start line. Somewhere in there I abandoned all reason and decided that sleeveless and shorts was acceptable in 30 degree weather...I was freezing...as exhibited below.

I took off with the crowd around the 11:00 min/mile pace. My goal was to maintain that pace throughout. Considering that it took me 5hrs 25 minutes to finish last year, a pace of 11-11:15min/mile would get me in under 5 hours and that was my goal.
Goal 1: Beat my time from last year.
Goal 2: Come in under 5 hours.
Ultimate goal: Come in under 4:45.

Truth be told, I took off "too fast" according to my time goal. I was supposed to stick to 11min/mile with a preferred upper limit of 11:15min/mile. But I felt good, and it felt easy, so I just coasted comfortably. By mile 2, I was perfectly content with my sleeveless/short ensemble. It's also interesting to remember that last year, my knee hurt at 0.25 miles...it was a non-issue this year.

I hit the 5K marker in 33:25 with a pace of 10:46min/mile...oops, just a tad fast.

I saw Patrick right about then and told him I went out too fast. He said don't worry about it and settle into my pace. So I tried to slow down...but I don't think that worked because I hit the 10K marker in 1:07:16 at a pace of 10:50min/mile.

I saw Patrick again and told him I was still going too fast and that I was going to regret the pace...and he said "keep going, you only have 4 more hours". Crap...the idea of doing that for 4 more hours seemed unlikely, but I was set in that pace and just decided at that moment I was going to give it everything I had. I was going to try to maintain that pace for as long as possible, and then when things fell apart (as I was confident they would) then I would struggle through to the end and just try to get as close to 5 hours as I could.

I passed through Rice Village and saw my boss cheering, then I saw Patrick again who proceeded to run with me for a few minutes. He wanted to carry a conversation and while I was doing okay, I wasn't exactly in the mood to chit-chat, plus him running alongside me with a huge backpack bouncing around was really distracting. So I told him I was fine and sent him along. Then I picked up some Vaseline at the next medical tent because I was chafing (for the first time ever) under my arms. I don't wear sleeveless often...now I know why!

I hit the 15K mark in 1:40:41 at a pace of 10:48min/mile.

At this point I wasn't really sure how I was still moving at the same pace. I definitely felt like I could give it more, but at the same time, I didn't want to blow-up in the second half!
I hit the half marathon point in 2:21:35 at a pace of 10:48min/mile.

Now I was itching...itching to let loose. I knew I had more to give, but I had never made it to this point so strong. Last year, I literally hit THE WALL at like mile 7. This time, I was cruising, completely comfortable with my pace, definitely pushing a little, but always feeling like I had more to give (which apparently is what a well paced marathon should feel like).
I promised myself to hold back until I hit mile 20...then I was just going to give it all I had.
I saw Patrick up on an overpass "hill" around mile 16? Our friends Lauren and Aaron had apparently done their own sprint to get up the overpass to get there in time to catch me (my time projections were screwed up for everybody because I was going too fast LOL!). I was happy, but I remembered yelling at him "It's starting to hurt, but I'm too stubborn to slow down!"

And then I hit 25K in 2:47:30 at a pace of 10:47min/mile. I was still maintaining pace...but honestly, I probably had no idea that this was the case. I just knew I was feeling fairly consistent, and I wasn't completely miserable yet. 

Those next couple of miles flew by. I was literally just waiting to hit mile 20 so that I could push it. Really feel what it was like to leave it all on the course.
I hit 30K in 3:21:02 at a pace of 10:47min/mile. Still holding strong.
I saw them one more time just before my "go point". I was still feeling good. Where last year I stopped and half cried to Patrick and walked for several minutes...this year I smiled for a picture, kept moving, and said "I got it".

And I did...so I took off....ready to leave it all out there. Feeling strong, feeling like this was what I trained for, this is what I worked for, this was what I would do for my KK, for my family, for myself.

The wall wasn't really intimidating. My legs were getting a little heavy, everything was starting to ache, but I was ready for it. I tried to push, but it took quite a bit of effort to just maintain my pace...again, typical marathon feeling. But I tried to pick it up just a little bit. Man, it felt so amazing to be passing SO many people that late in the race. I started to cramp a little (calves were tightening), so I made sure to grab plenty of Gatorade. That salty goodness tasted amazing!

I hit 35K in 3:53:22 at a pace of 10:44min/mile...meaning I really was speeding up! Which again, isn't all that common in a marathon for your average middle-aged mom of 2 ; )

Somewhere in here, I did some fuzzy math and realized that I was definitely going to make it under 5 hrs...and that I was probably going to make it under 4:45...but could I do even better?
I was really feeling good, and then bargaining with myself that at mile 23 I would pick up the pace again, and then PAIN!!!

From one minute to the next, terrible, excruciating pain in my right foot toe area. I'm not sure how I didn't break stride/fall down/cry. But I kept going. I was confident that my toe nail was completely ripped off. I knew that if I stopped, I wouldn't be able to start again. I could not sit, I could not take off my shoe, I had 3 miles to go for my best time, and I was NOT going to quit now! I kept trying to rub my toes down to get the toe nail back on, but that didn't seem to help anything. All I could do was keep moving through the pain for a little longer. I hit the last aid station just before mile 25 and didn't even slow down...I spilled half the Gatorade on myself.

Again, I have to say that the support those last 6 miles of the marathon is freaking amazing! These people know exactly what to say. I say this because last year...at the back of the pack, these people said things like "just keep moving forward, you're going to make it!"...but I was in a different "time zone" this year, so I heard things like "don't stop now, keep up the pace, give it all you've got!". Because this year, I was in a different group...and I loved that.

Even given the excruciating foot (well, you know, and everything else that hurt!), I hit the 40K mark in 4:25:42 at an overall pace of 10:42min/mile...I was still getting faster. 

I skipped the last aid station...and I gave it everything I had. Honestly, it feels amazing to know that you finished a race and left it all out there. Over those last 6 miles, I pushed every uphill, passing tons of people as I went, I pushed at every chance. Last year, when I got downtown, I remember conserving a little barely half a mile from the finish to make sure I could still be running at the finish line. This year, I was ramping my pace up every inch closer to that finish line. I pushed as hard as I possibly could toward the end...I really didn't understand how close I was to finishing under 4:40...

I remember watching the TV coverage the next day and telling Patrick that I was absolutely sprinting to the finish...and watching the "Kenyan winners" running on TV and telling him "that's how fast I thought I was going"...he choked on his food...LOL!
But going down that home stretch, literally, the last 5 minutes of the race, I kept saying to myself (actually I was saying it out loud!) "Come on, come on, come on!".
And in the end I left it ALL absolutely out there. On that day, in those conditions, I could not have done any better.
I crossed the finish line in 4:39:37 at a pace of 10:40min/mile...and a 3 minute negative split.
The results would later show that in the last 4.5 miles, I passed 428 runners...and only 1 passed me.
I crossed the finish line knowing I had not only beaten my time from last year (by over 45 minutes!!!), broken 5 hours, but also broken 4:45.

 Then I looked down at my watch and saw that glorious 4:39...

And then looked over and saw Patrick and got emotional...oh my God, a feeling I will never forget. Utter exhaustion, complete pride, utmost satisfaction...my work was done...it was all worth it.

I limped my way into the convention center. It's always funny to me how you've just sprinted (or at least think you have sprinted), and then literally feet from the finish line, you can't seem to limp your way across a room. I went to find Patrick, but then he quickly had to get me back over to the medical area. He carried me on his back which was fairly entertaining LOL! I went to the podiatry area of medical and had some lovely areas of my foot drained. A few choice blisters, one of which was under the nail bed of my second toe. It hurt...but again, totally worth it!

The Texans were in a playoff game that day, so we were lucky enough to go have lunch and a drink with Lauren and Aaron while Mom watched the kids a little longer. I tried not to puke, limped around, and basically glowed and was in awe about how well it went. HOLY CRAP!

And then I talked to Mom and Dad...and they were so proud. I guess you could track my dot across the city, and "my dot" kept doing better than expected, so they got to watch me "outperform" my expectations all morning...and well, as a grown adult, those opportunities to make your parents proud are a little more rare...so it meant everything to me because it meant so much to them.

At the end of the day, I was still in one piece.
I was proud and exhausted.
My kids were happy to see me.
My exhausted husband had tracked me all over Houston and was equally impressed.
And I still knew that I wanted to do it again next year...and do it faster.

Because it's the one thing I do all year that is for me. It's my personal time, it's my chance to push myself. Training is my therapy, and when I can fundraise for autism research, it's even more awesome.

So I will keep doing it until I can't...and you'll keep hearing about it whether you want to or not ; )