Being a vegetarian, albeit a less than stringent character, my healthy calories can sometimes be slightly harder to come by than digging into a dense steak dinner. As the mileage amps up during a training cycle I find myself constantly trying to catch up to my hunger needs. Healthy eating is important to me - it’s been a part of my life - almost my entire life - and while I VERY much enjoy the occasional bag of funyuns or handful too many of oreos, I’ve been a clean living sort as long as I can remember. Clean does not mean low fat. I eat cheese, butter, eggs, peanut butter, nuts by the large handful, granola, etc... But largely what goes in my mouth fits the standard definition of real food. So as the miles creep up and my calorie needs begin to multiply I run into the great food dilemma of a 1st world middle class life.... To powder and supplement with bars and gels or try to consume whole food for all my needs. I used to joke around with my brothers that my beer a night habit was calorie and carb loading in an all natural liquid way. But beer cannot really effectively be consumed on the long run, other than those rare marathon occasions when it’s super warm and the frat boys are out in force with their coors light and smiles. (Yes, my brothers and I did share a warm, crappy beer at mile 22 of last years St. Louis Marathon). And quite honestly I don’t have time to concoct organic home recipes for on the go running, so I do, often, find myself forking over cash for gooey food-like substances.
So far in this new training cycle I haven’t run long or far enough to justify a fuel on the run carry along, until this past Sunday that is. I knew I had a long run, 20 or so miles, on the schedule, yet I had forgotten to address the fueling issue until late Saturday night. In a pinch I ran over to Walgreens and purchased a bag of Haribo Gummy Bears. These candies are a childhood favorite of mine. I vividly remember my first time with these chewy, sweet confections. I was 8 years old and my family went to a German Fair. There was music, games, dancing, fun of all sorts, but the highlight of my trip came from a little booth giving away free samples of these treats. I savored my tiny little bag of gummy bears for three days, popping one in my mouth at a time. I thought they were the best things I had ever tasted. I simply couldn’t believe how good they were, and I wanted to delight in them as long as I possibly could. Since that time I have harbored a love of the gummy bear. I certainly never anticipated that love crossing over to my fitness needs.
Yet on Sunday morning, I popped open the bag, threw a handful into a smaller plastic bag, laced up my shoes and headed out for a beautiful, long run. An hour or so into the run, I tossed half of the gummy bears in my mouth, filled my belly with a few swigs of water and continued on the path. While not the same jolt of energy from an accel gel or gu, the gummy bears did their job and kept me from crashing. After my 2nd hour running I polished off the small bag of gummy bears and made it back to my front door with energy to spare. I’m not sure if it is the increased fitness from several weeks training or the magic of the black forest delight - either way my week ended on a high note with an easier than expected first crack at a long run, and gave me some hope that I can get back to form for this season! Looking forward to building on this confidence and energy for the next few weeks.
Miles Run: 50 +2 hours yoga
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Thursday, January 26, 2012
The True Adventures of an Incredibly Average Runner
There is a saying in Tibetan that “at the door of the miserable rich man sleeps the contented beggar.” The point of this saying is not that poverty is a virtue, but that happiness does not come from wealth, but from setting limits to one’s desires, and living within those limits with satisfaction. The saying rattled around my noggin all week long during my first structured training week in over a year. When you’ve been out of the game for such a while - it is hard to jump right back in, address your weaknesses head on and realize that you are not as fast, as fit, as spiffy as you once were. One of my frustrations last year came not only from the physical illness, surgery, recovery, the emotional exhaustion of death, but also from the unrealistic expectations placed on myself in the midst of all of the crazy. I lost sight of the process. I just wanted to be there already - to be as good as I possibly could, if on the best day I was as fit as I’ve ever been. And even then - if that were the case - I would still be telling you the tales of an incredibly average, at best, state-ranked runner.
I’m not great. I’ll never be on the olympic team, nor could I even set my feet on the starting line of the trials. But I can stand next to those running giants, and that is one of the reasons I love this sport so much. I pound the pavement behind the best in the sport - directly behind them. I step over their sweat and spit and cross the same finish line they do. How many athletes get to shadow the best of the best? If you love baseball, but don’t have the skill to make it in Yankee stadium, the closest you get is a seat on the sideline. For us runners, we get to stand toe to toe with those who are at the peak of the sport. We get to stand in the same arena, go through the same journey. This is one of the beauties and wonders of running. And while it’s certainly important to set goals - and to have “stretch” goals in your peripheral vision - we must be happy with the process. We should revel in the fact that we are here at all, that we are moving, pushing, learning and growing right along with the greats. And my incredibly average-ness doesn’t matter, it’s the goals set, the structure and life they give me that moves me along. Setting those goals, being realistic about my own limitations, physically, time wise, etc.. is a productive first step in being satisfied within the limits.
In that mindset I began the week, full of anticipation and ready to take the dive. And I did. And it wasn’t so bad after all. I forgot how much I love a plan. The structure, the pressure, the insistence that you can’t get better if you don’t try. 1 week down - 13 more to go before challenge #1 of 2012.
Miles run 44 + 1.5 hour yoga
I’m not great. I’ll never be on the olympic team, nor could I even set my feet on the starting line of the trials. But I can stand next to those running giants, and that is one of the reasons I love this sport so much. I pound the pavement behind the best in the sport - directly behind them. I step over their sweat and spit and cross the same finish line they do. How many athletes get to shadow the best of the best? If you love baseball, but don’t have the skill to make it in Yankee stadium, the closest you get is a seat on the sideline. For us runners, we get to stand toe to toe with those who are at the peak of the sport. We get to stand in the same arena, go through the same journey. This is one of the beauties and wonders of running. And while it’s certainly important to set goals - and to have “stretch” goals in your peripheral vision - we must be happy with the process. We should revel in the fact that we are here at all, that we are moving, pushing, learning and growing right along with the greats. And my incredibly average-ness doesn’t matter, it’s the goals set, the structure and life they give me that moves me along. Setting those goals, being realistic about my own limitations, physically, time wise, etc.. is a productive first step in being satisfied within the limits.
In that mindset I began the week, full of anticipation and ready to take the dive. And I did. And it wasn’t so bad after all. I forgot how much I love a plan. The structure, the pressure, the insistence that you can’t get better if you don’t try. 1 week down - 13 more to go before challenge #1 of 2012.
Miles run 44 + 1.5 hour yoga
Monday, January 16, 2012
The Reckoning
We knew death was coming. We watched it for almost 7 years, peeking through the glass, dipping it’s toes in the bath, hiding in the closet. We knew it was losing patience with my mom’s desire to stay here, with us, as long as she could, and yet when it finally came, when we saw it open the door and enter the room, when we stared it in the face we couldn’t help but be shocked that it does actually exist - that it will take away from you the breath of the one you love most.
Have you seen death? Have you watched the shallow breathing of a loved one slowly subside, seen the last life breath, felt the skin, still warm to the touch start to cool, watched the veins turn purple, the skin white and glistening, the body growing rigid - difficult to walk away, to say goodbye. It changes you. It shifts your insides around, forces reflection in serious and uncomfortable ways and pushes you to the brink of exhaustion, depression, emotion....
It’s been almost 6 months, and not an hour of the day goes by where I am not still profoundly saddened by this loss, by my lack of peace in her not being here, present, in this life, surrounding me with her love, her encouragement, her way of grace. When you lose your mother, when you become an orphaned adult, you lose the context of your life, the keeper of your memories, the place holder of the one person who knows you from the tiniest formation to the fully realized you. And moving through this grief does not happen quickly, does not happen in a linear form, and is NOT something you can check off the list and move on to the next. I am learning, just now, to live WITH this loss and not let the loss be what defines my movements and moments. I am progressing. It is slow. It is painful, but it is real and honest and the only way my mother would want it to be. Of that much I am certain.
And as a new year comes crashing into the calendar, my first year without a mother, I am ready to look into it, put my big girl shoes on and start moving forward - Relentless Forward Motion.... Toward that end - I’ve tacked up a training plan, signed onto a social networking site for runners, told everyone around me my goals and desires for my 2012 running year and re-dedicated myself, to myself: to the movement, the relentless forward motion, the breathing in & out, pounding, sweating, heart pulsing joy that is running. I’m smiling again - in bits and pieces - and hoping that this essential piece of my life ushers me through and onto the closure stage of grief - so that I can begin to honor my mother with true joy and reflection and understand this cycle we call life. My focus is on building a solid mileage base in order to really succeed at the Ultra Distance in the way my body is capable.
February 25: Cowtown Half Marathon - Ft. Worth, Tx
March 11: Quivering Quads Trail Half Marathon - Troy Missouri
April 15: Go St. Louis Marathon - St. Louis, Mo
May 31: Soldier Field 10 mile - Chicago, Il
August 25: Lean Horse 100 mile!!!!! - Hot Spring, SD (Top 3 overall finish)
October 21: Rock-N-Roll St. Louis Marathon - St. Louis, Mo
November 16: JFK 50 mile Boonsboro, MD (Top 10 overall finish)
Endurance Training 2012 begins now. Follow me as I train and race my way through the year!
Have you seen death? Have you watched the shallow breathing of a loved one slowly subside, seen the last life breath, felt the skin, still warm to the touch start to cool, watched the veins turn purple, the skin white and glistening, the body growing rigid - difficult to walk away, to say goodbye. It changes you. It shifts your insides around, forces reflection in serious and uncomfortable ways and pushes you to the brink of exhaustion, depression, emotion....
It’s been almost 6 months, and not an hour of the day goes by where I am not still profoundly saddened by this loss, by my lack of peace in her not being here, present, in this life, surrounding me with her love, her encouragement, her way of grace. When you lose your mother, when you become an orphaned adult, you lose the context of your life, the keeper of your memories, the place holder of the one person who knows you from the tiniest formation to the fully realized you. And moving through this grief does not happen quickly, does not happen in a linear form, and is NOT something you can check off the list and move on to the next. I am learning, just now, to live WITH this loss and not let the loss be what defines my movements and moments. I am progressing. It is slow. It is painful, but it is real and honest and the only way my mother would want it to be. Of that much I am certain.
And as a new year comes crashing into the calendar, my first year without a mother, I am ready to look into it, put my big girl shoes on and start moving forward - Relentless Forward Motion.... Toward that end - I’ve tacked up a training plan, signed onto a social networking site for runners, told everyone around me my goals and desires for my 2012 running year and re-dedicated myself, to myself: to the movement, the relentless forward motion, the breathing in & out, pounding, sweating, heart pulsing joy that is running. I’m smiling again - in bits and pieces - and hoping that this essential piece of my life ushers me through and onto the closure stage of grief - so that I can begin to honor my mother with true joy and reflection and understand this cycle we call life. My focus is on building a solid mileage base in order to really succeed at the Ultra Distance in the way my body is capable.
February 25: Cowtown Half Marathon - Ft. Worth, Tx
March 11: Quivering Quads Trail Half Marathon - Troy Missouri
April 15: Go St. Louis Marathon - St. Louis, Mo
May 31: Soldier Field 10 mile - Chicago, Il
August 25: Lean Horse 100 mile!!!!! - Hot Spring, SD (Top 3 overall finish)
October 21: Rock-N-Roll St. Louis Marathon - St. Louis, Mo
November 16: JFK 50 mile Boonsboro, MD (Top 10 overall finish)
Endurance Training 2012 begins now. Follow me as I train and race my way through the year!
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Grief Sucks
Sometimes, now that the numbness has finally left the building and the deeper understanding regarding the permanence of loss is here, I hurt so much I have to squat down or double over. These moments come out of nowhere; unexpected, unprovoked, unaware I go - and the choice becomes - do I push it down, swallow hard and soldier on? Or do I stop in my tracks and watch it happen, let it happen, wash over, around, above, underneath, all around me? It’s difficult. At home when I feel the pang of lonliness come over me I can justifiably sit down and allow it, but at the drug store in the cough medicine aisle? When a memory so strong hits me that I literally feel the wind knock away? What then? Or at the airport - quietly reading and listening to music when I am struck by the powerful knowledge that I will never touch my mothers hand again, never see her smiling small self on the couch, never hear I love you from the one person who has known me longest & loved me deepest? How do you “move through” this shit? How do you ever get to the other side - to the peace of mind and understanding that loss will continue coming, not just once but many times over - the longer I stand on my own two feet.
Running is helping. Running, deep breathing, rhythmic pounding clears my mind, pinpoints my focus, produces in me a “comfortable pain” that I am used to, like going home again, as close to my mothers arms as possible. And for this one pure act of mirroring physical and emotional self I am thankful. All the better that I have a partner in this long run.
Yes, I’m still running. Yes, the 50 mile race is 5 weeks away and nothing, nothing, nothing will stop me from being there on that starting line, breathing in the cool fall Appalachian air. It will - It will - It will be further progress, further movement and hopefully a celebration of being alive and being able to do just this much.
Running is helping. Running, deep breathing, rhythmic pounding clears my mind, pinpoints my focus, produces in me a “comfortable pain” that I am used to, like going home again, as close to my mothers arms as possible. And for this one pure act of mirroring physical and emotional self I am thankful. All the better that I have a partner in this long run.
Yes, I’m still running. Yes, the 50 mile race is 5 weeks away and nothing, nothing, nothing will stop me from being there on that starting line, breathing in the cool fall Appalachian air. It will - It will - It will be further progress, further movement and hopefully a celebration of being alive and being able to do just this much.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Why Don't You?
So I missed my first 100 mile race - I suppose if you never get there - it isn’t missed right? Anyhow, I had to refocus, something I am slowly beginning to tackle. Some days still knock me out and send me crawling back to bed, but last week I almost had 2 good days in a row. I’ll take it. I’ll take what, if anything, I can get in the way of joy and progress in this still acute phase of grief.
I asked Conrad last week, “How are we going to get through this 50 mile race if I can’t even manage to string 2 days of running together?”
His response, “Sheer will this time around I think Kristen. Nothing but determination and stubbornness.”
Humph I thought... Then I thought some more about it. I know that for me goal setting has been tantamount to signing up for the races and completing the intense training, but it hasn’t and never will be an integral part of the running experience. In my world, running and racing are two separate entities which have very little to do with each other. I’ve almost always loved running: the feel of my feet pounding the ground, the sweat pooling in the crevice above my elbow, the slight burning in the lungs, the sun on my skin. I can go anywhere I want on a run. And often I do. I meditate, I move, and I absolutely love being alive - having the blessing and the gift of movement.
Racing - well that is something completely different. It’s an exhausting, nerve wracking, intensity that I place on myself for months at a time. I count my calories (making sure to eat enough), my liquid intake, my steps, my miles down to the tenth, my sleep, etc... I’ve never gone into a race unprepared - minus the Cowtown half that I signed up for on a whim 16 hours before the event and while still in full recovery from major surgery mode - and as such - I’m always abundantly prepared and largely lucky in ways of weather which have helped me reach almost every goal I’ve set. It takes a certain amount of focus and a tremendous amount of dedication & discipline to consistently reach for those goals and continue hitting them. It’s the yang to the ying of my peaceful, intuitive, instinctual runs.
Knowing that there is very little chance of me finishing this year’s JFK in top form, or at the top of the women’s leader board as my initial goal, I had a moment of weakness wanting to quit the whole running business. But then I came to my senses and started placing these moments and ideas and goals in perspective.
How about I just finish the race as a goal? How about I just get to the start line and see how I do? And in the meantime throw out the training plan with it’s 20+ hours of intense training a week - just get up and go - just run -until I am tired, I am weak, I am sick and I can run no more. Run when it’s nice, run when I want to, maybe 2 or 3 times a day if I feel like it. Work on my spirit, be mindful, continue to discipline the mind with meditation & yoga and just be thankful that I can get my ass out of bed every morning. Be thankful that I have an adoring family and a compassionate husband and child who hold my hands when I don’t know they need holding and care for me in ways I never knew possible. Be happy with the end, be happy with the means, work to get through all the in-betweens with an occasional smile and continue to run. I love running. I love being at one with my breath and my physical self - pushing my limitations and seeing where it takes me. Chained by the idea of a time goal or a place goal, I think I’ve forgotten the true nature of the run, the race, the event is simply to exist, to be, to breath and to finish with a peace.
That said, sometime soon I am looking forward to throwing my all into training again, into a time goal or a place goal, when I have fully healed from this most difficult of events. Until then - I will be easier on myself, easier on my body and understand that I am happy to just put the shoes on and get out the door. It’s time to fall in love with running again.
Miles run - 60+ Consistent Yoga, Biking & Meditations 5+hours
I asked Conrad last week, “How are we going to get through this 50 mile race if I can’t even manage to string 2 days of running together?”
His response, “Sheer will this time around I think Kristen. Nothing but determination and stubbornness.”
Humph I thought... Then I thought some more about it. I know that for me goal setting has been tantamount to signing up for the races and completing the intense training, but it hasn’t and never will be an integral part of the running experience. In my world, running and racing are two separate entities which have very little to do with each other. I’ve almost always loved running: the feel of my feet pounding the ground, the sweat pooling in the crevice above my elbow, the slight burning in the lungs, the sun on my skin. I can go anywhere I want on a run. And often I do. I meditate, I move, and I absolutely love being alive - having the blessing and the gift of movement.
Racing - well that is something completely different. It’s an exhausting, nerve wracking, intensity that I place on myself for months at a time. I count my calories (making sure to eat enough), my liquid intake, my steps, my miles down to the tenth, my sleep, etc... I’ve never gone into a race unprepared - minus the Cowtown half that I signed up for on a whim 16 hours before the event and while still in full recovery from major surgery mode - and as such - I’m always abundantly prepared and largely lucky in ways of weather which have helped me reach almost every goal I’ve set. It takes a certain amount of focus and a tremendous amount of dedication & discipline to consistently reach for those goals and continue hitting them. It’s the yang to the ying of my peaceful, intuitive, instinctual runs.
Knowing that there is very little chance of me finishing this year’s JFK in top form, or at the top of the women’s leader board as my initial goal, I had a moment of weakness wanting to quit the whole running business. But then I came to my senses and started placing these moments and ideas and goals in perspective.
How about I just finish the race as a goal? How about I just get to the start line and see how I do? And in the meantime throw out the training plan with it’s 20+ hours of intense training a week - just get up and go - just run -until I am tired, I am weak, I am sick and I can run no more. Run when it’s nice, run when I want to, maybe 2 or 3 times a day if I feel like it. Work on my spirit, be mindful, continue to discipline the mind with meditation & yoga and just be thankful that I can get my ass out of bed every morning. Be thankful that I have an adoring family and a compassionate husband and child who hold my hands when I don’t know they need holding and care for me in ways I never knew possible. Be happy with the end, be happy with the means, work to get through all the in-betweens with an occasional smile and continue to run. I love running. I love being at one with my breath and my physical self - pushing my limitations and seeing where it takes me. Chained by the idea of a time goal or a place goal, I think I’ve forgotten the true nature of the run, the race, the event is simply to exist, to be, to breath and to finish with a peace.
That said, sometime soon I am looking forward to throwing my all into training again, into a time goal or a place goal, when I have fully healed from this most difficult of events. Until then - I will be easier on myself, easier on my body and understand that I am happy to just put the shoes on and get out the door. It’s time to fall in love with running again.
Miles run - 60+ Consistent Yoga, Biking & Meditations 5+hours
Monday, August 22, 2011
Bringing me to my knees
I've run in rainstorms, in hailstorms, through snowstorms, in the middle of the night, in the predawn winter beauty, with torn knee ligaments, a broken foot, way too soon after major surgeries, through illness, in the middle of chaos, on my days off, on my vacations. Regardless of life's caution tape - I've run - always, daily - meditations and ruminations of physicality. Until this July, when first overwhelming stress and then grief knocked me a one two punch I didn't know capable of withstanding. I'm nowhere near the day by day credo, still managing simply moment to moment. But last week I ran, for the first time in almost 6 weeks. I ran twice. It was difficult. It was painful. It felt as if I were returning home after a long, exhaustive, much delayed journey. I have to start somewhere. Let the new method of life: one full of conscientious listening, mindful understanding & quiet daily running begin. For you mother, I vow to keep my body as clean and free and full of life and movement as I can. My 50 mile training starts today - and I will carry you with me through each step.
RIP Sweet Brenda Ann Rice Jorgensen - 2/20/47-7/27/11
Nana's Eulogy:
My mother was the blueprint of a woman etched in full form. Her relentless passion for her family and faith guided her every breath. She took the job of motherhood with a tremendous degree of seriousness and gave us, all three children, more than enough love to share with our own family. And when we grew up, got married and had families of our own - they simply became extensions of her own immediate family. And the love she had to give, somehow found in her reserves, was just as relentless and just as passionate for Conrad, Jody & Alli as if they were her own blood. Forget about the grandkids - Those boys made my mom's heart melt every time they walked into the room. She understood her role as grandmother in the most essential of ways and cherished her rowdy crew with a heart full of pure love.
Her strength in living each day was fierce and profound. The core of her being, the fibers that made up her soul seemed somehow stronger than the rest of us. A woman who could not be rattled, whether through birthing all three of her children on her own, in strange cities without family and friends around, to carting surly pre-teens around all through springtime sans Pops, as he was providing for our family, to her illness - which she never let define her, not even in her death. Once my mother found out and processed this Ovarian Cancer thing, she took it not as a sentence but as a gift of renewed life and began training for a half marathon. Her strength in living going hand in hand with her passion in loving.
But the thing I will remember most, and miss most, about my mom was her selfless nature. This was a woman who always, always, always put others first - no matter the cost. Even in dying she took my hand, when I was crying for her, and said to me, "I know dear. I lost my mother too early as well. It's going to be hard, and you are going to miss me, but you will get through this. I wish you didn't have to go through this, but you will be ok."
As I learn how to construct my world without this essential person in it, I will willingly carry this sadness with me, taking her spirit and her teachings and her guidance with me in every moment. It is my deepest wish that her relentless passion and strength in living and selflessness become larger parts of the woman that I am. But for now, my sweet mama, I breathe sanctity in this family and you my peace. Thank you for me.
RIP Sweet Brenda Ann Rice Jorgensen - 2/20/47-7/27/11
Nana's Eulogy:
My mother was the blueprint of a woman etched in full form. Her relentless passion for her family and faith guided her every breath. She took the job of motherhood with a tremendous degree of seriousness and gave us, all three children, more than enough love to share with our own family. And when we grew up, got married and had families of our own - they simply became extensions of her own immediate family. And the love she had to give, somehow found in her reserves, was just as relentless and just as passionate for Conrad, Jody & Alli as if they were her own blood. Forget about the grandkids - Those boys made my mom's heart melt every time they walked into the room. She understood her role as grandmother in the most essential of ways and cherished her rowdy crew with a heart full of pure love.
Her strength in living each day was fierce and profound. The core of her being, the fibers that made up her soul seemed somehow stronger than the rest of us. A woman who could not be rattled, whether through birthing all three of her children on her own, in strange cities without family and friends around, to carting surly pre-teens around all through springtime sans Pops, as he was providing for our family, to her illness - which she never let define her, not even in her death. Once my mother found out and processed this Ovarian Cancer thing, she took it not as a sentence but as a gift of renewed life and began training for a half marathon. Her strength in living going hand in hand with her passion in loving.
But the thing I will remember most, and miss most, about my mom was her selfless nature. This was a woman who always, always, always put others first - no matter the cost. Even in dying she took my hand, when I was crying for her, and said to me, "I know dear. I lost my mother too early as well. It's going to be hard, and you are going to miss me, but you will get through this. I wish you didn't have to go through this, but you will be ok."
As I learn how to construct my world without this essential person in it, I will willingly carry this sadness with me, taking her spirit and her teachings and her guidance with me in every moment. It is my deepest wish that her relentless passion and strength in living and selflessness become larger parts of the woman that I am. But for now, my sweet mama, I breathe sanctity in this family and you my peace. Thank you for me.
Friday, July 15, 2011
JFK 50
This morning we received our official entry letters for the JFK 50 miles! I'm thrilled to be participating in this historic distance event again this year, and am looking forward to the goal of chopping hour or so from our last effort.
Many of you know the difficult, exhausting experience our family has been immersed in these last few weeks. It's been an intense roller-coaster of a time - but our one constant remains running. And although the time to write, mentally reminisce and wander about this great effort has all but ceased, the running, while much less than the 90+ miles a week scheduled, has continued. 10pm running, clearing out the mental minutia of the day, has been a necessary gift of time.
So we continue on, pumping our arms, pounding our feet & sweating through it. Until next time.
Miles Run - 100
Many of you know the difficult, exhausting experience our family has been immersed in these last few weeks. It's been an intense roller-coaster of a time - but our one constant remains running. And although the time to write, mentally reminisce and wander about this great effort has all but ceased, the running, while much less than the 90+ miles a week scheduled, has continued. 10pm running, clearing out the mental minutia of the day, has been a necessary gift of time.
So we continue on, pumping our arms, pounding our feet & sweating through it. Until next time.
Miles Run - 100
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