Harvard Day 3: Great Leaps and Safe Landings

Goal setting. I knew we were going to do some of that, and thought to myself, “I’m good with goal setting. I’m task oriented. Set a goal. Get it done. It’s not that hard.”

I think I realized how wrong I was on the first slide of the presentation.

We learned about what Deborah Helsing calls the “New Years Resolution Model of Change” – we say we’re going to do something like eat better or exercise, and we do it for a few weeks, and then we do it less, and then by June we can’t even remember what the goal was in the first place.

I considered goals I’ve set for myself in the last year and how determined I was to achieve them, and then I sheepishly waited for lightning to strike. I realized that something that seems unbearably important to me on one day seems like too much trouble and thus “not a big deal” on another day. The diet analogy works here…just one cookie won’t hurt…I’ll make up the calories by eating well tomorrow…before you know it you’re having ice cream for dinner again. Not that I’ve ever done that ;)

The same can be said for professional goals.

“I’m going to get into classrooms every day” until I’m staring at 100 unread emails.

“I’m going to write positive notes to 5 teachers  every  week” until it’s Friday and I haven’t written any and I’m tired and want to go home.

“I’m going to check on Kid So-and-So first thing every morning” until the buses are late for the field trip and the ice maker is leaking and a parent is on the phone waiting for me.

Helsing had us start with 3-4 goals we have. Then we had to pick one that was very meaningful to us. We wrote the goal in the context of ourselves so that barriers outside of ourselves would not get the way. She gave us the sentence stem “I am committed to getting better at…”

The process she took us through had several steps, and after each we shared with a partner. Perhaps my favorite part of the exercise was the way she stopped and gave several examples before she asked us to do anything. The examples made all the difference in my understanding of the work. I need to remember that when I’m working through professional development planning.

I don’t want to detail every part of her process because I feel like I may not do it justice and I don’t want to misrepresent her work. I will share personally that my exercise shook out like this:

I commit to observing the often small expectations on my campus. For example, we require all teachers to have a safe place and a friends and family board, but I’ve never checked to see that it’s happening. We’re going to work in August to establish some agreed upon consistency in math and language arts. I need to look for those things in classrooms or we’re wasting our time making the list in the first place.

I digressed – I was going to keep this short!

I learned about myself that the reason I don’t do a good job of looking for little things is that I’m afraid teachers will think I don’t trust them. I’ve worked hard to establish trust, and I’m afraid I will erode that if I start doing what can be perceived as “nit picking” little things. So the way I achieve my goal isn’t even about deciding to do it, but it’s rather about overcoming this worry that I will break trust and working to maintain trust even when I’m looking for small, but significant, things.

There’s lots more. We talked about our behaviors and assumptions and how to test them. I was really challenged to think about improving my practice by thinking about what barriers I’m putting in my own way. The challenge included pushing ourselves first in a way that is safe in order to enact greater change and overcome more barriers.  So powerful!

To close, Helsing wished us “great leaps and safe landings.”

I like that. 

Harvard Day 1: Part 2: Inclusion

or, as an alternate title, "There is no autistic McDonalds."

Our first speaker in the morning was Dr. William Henderson. He was incredible. All of the world's people should hear his message.

My paraphrased and hopefully accurate version of his story is this: He was a principal of a school. In his 30s he learned he was going blind. After he received the news, some people encouraged him to move on from principal-ing because some thought it would be impossible to continue without his vision. Not only did he prove them wrong, but he went on to lead one of the most inclusive schools in the country. After his retirement, they named it after him. So he's like, really awesome.

He explained that he sees his challenges just like everyone else's challenges. One thing every person has in common is that we've all been doubted because of something we can't control - age, gender, disability, etc. He inspired me to remember that when people doubt me, I have grit and determination on my side. Specifically, he said to "exude determination and grit." We were encouraged to leverage faith, family, friends, and fellowship when our work is hard and take baby steps to get a little better every day.

His description of how his reading evolved was the most fascinating to me. He described having to enlarge print so drastically that he could only keep a few words at a time on a screen, and connected that to students who spend so much mental effort decoding that meaning is lost. I thought of a lot of kids.

As educators, we don't have to know all of the answers but we have to find multiple ways to learn. We were encouraged to connect with others' struggle by recognizing the ways we struggle.

My oft mantra of "do hard things" fit right into his talk!

Dr. Henderson pointed out some realities that we must confront as school leaders. That "normalcy" is a myth. That 60% of kids in Boston juvenile detention have learning disabilities, and I imagine this is mimicked around the country; this is an educational failure, in my opinion.  That there is no autistic McDonalds; we have to prepare all students for life outside of school, and excluding them from our general education environments simply doesn't do that.

My big takeaways:
1) Some of us take better care of our cell phones than our bodies. To be an effective leader we must practice self-care.
2) If we lower our expectations for students with disabilities we are insulting them and enabling their failure. Instead we must accommodate and maintain a high standard. This reminded me of Liz Murray and Breaking Night.
3) There are multiple ways of being successful and the standard or "normal" way doesn't work for everyone.
4) There are no achievement gaps. Only opportunity gaps.
5) It's true that inclusion won't work for everyone, but it will work for most. Research shows that exclusion to specialized classes simply doesn't work. If we don't create inclusive classrooms we are deliberately going against the research.
6) Inclusion has to be everyone's job.

This post feels a bit all over the place, but I learned so many things in the short time of Dr. Henderson's talk. I know I said it already, but he is inspiring. I am so thankful that I got to learn from him!

Harvard Day 1, Part 1: "Marginalized"

Our day began with some conversation about people who are marginalized. There was a beautiful tribute to those people who were lost in the domestic terror event in Orlando a couple of weeks ago, and it included a reflection from Maya Angelou that was amazing. I’ll add more on that later.

I made a note to look up what it means to marginalize. It’s one of those words we hear so frequently that I think its meaning gets distorted or evolves into something else. To marginalize someone is “to treat someone as insignificant or peripheral.” Whoa. That kind of got to me.

We were asked to be vulnerable and share if there was ever a time when we felt marginalized. Replace marginalized with “insignificant or peripheral” and I think we’ve all been there. I shared about first moving to College Station. It’s an intellectual community, and I felt like I was the cute little girl from the small town with the too thick accent and people didn’t take me seriously. Some of that was likely my own angst and perception, but certainly not all. I remember what that has felt like at different times in my life, and I certainly didn’t like it. To be treated as insignificant was painful for me, and my experiences are nothing like so many others who experience it daily. That's good perspective. 

Then we were tasked with asking who on our campus feels marginalized. It immediately occurred to me that every teacher who feels like their opinion doesn’t matter, who feels like their job is to listen to other people solve problems and keep quiet, has felt marginalized at my school and at my previous schools. I feel guilty about that. My job as their leader is to make sure it’s abundantly clear that every person matters.  Moreover, that they matter in the context of our work and our students.  

Then I thought of our students. And our parents. I want them all to feel significant and fully part of our school community. No one should ever feel marginalized in my school family. I can commit to that.

Back to the Maya Angelou video we saw. I’m linking it at the bottom. She says such beautiful things about tragedy but also about life. I sat there – Stormy Greeson Hickman from Rice, Texas, in a classroom at Harvard, y’all – and her words beautifully articulated how I feel about this experience today. She said, “One of the things I do [when I do anything of value], I take with me every person who has ever been kind to me.”

Everyone who has ever been kind to me is here and part of this wonderful experience. I can only imagine where I can go with others to whom I am kind, even after I’m gone from this earth. And so I will be kind, no matter a person's race, culture, sexual orientation, religion. My first lesson at Harvard is the same one I learned at home from my parents and since I was a child. That’s powerful stuff. 

A Good Year

I haven't blogged since November 25, 2015. That's a long time. There are a few reasons this is so:
1) I think people might get tired of hearing about me running. I run now. It's not that special. It's still hard and rewarding and stress-relieving, but not special.
2) My kids are now old enough to not enjoy me posting every hilarious detail of their lives on my blog.
3) My job involves other people's kids, and they also wouldn't appreciate me posting every little thing that happens during my day on a blog. Also, FERPA.
4) I opened a school in the last year.

So let's visit in a little more depth about #4 because it's ridiculous. I didn't do anything.

That's not totally true because I did lots of stuff, but I didn't decide to open up a school and then single-handedly educate 500ish kids for a school year. That was the work of so many people, and I had mostly a supporting role. It makes me a little uncomfortable when it comes up that I opened a school because it feels like I'm taking way more credit than is due. Let me clear that up right now. I am well aware that if it were left to only me nothing would have happened this year like it did.

Now that it's summer, many people have asked, "How did your first year go?" I'm a bit mystified when I try to answer. It seems so trite to say, "Good. It was a good year." It was a good year. Things went well. It felt natural and right and good. Those are the best words I can come up with. Sort of undramatic, I know. It felt like home, and while that lacks drama it holds so much more.

I'll give a sidebar that our STAAR scores haven't come in yet, so if they stink I will feel completely responsible and be a little sick about it, but it will still have been a good year. I preach all the time that those numbers don't define us and they don't; I still want them to be great. 

Back to the narrative...

I decided that now is a good time to reflect on/document some things from my first year as a principal (and maybe laugh at myself a little!). Here goes:

Being a principal without a school and students is boring. For real. The joy and fulfillment I got when there were finally other people around is almost inexplicable. I know I have some real awkward, introverted tendencies, but I also now know without a doubt that I need people.

I can happily and easily speak in front of groups of people. If I ever thought I had stage fright I can be sure now that I just don't. However, I am incredibly self-conscious about other's perception of me. Specifically, any time parents are at school for something, they aren't there to see me. They want to see their kids sing and hear teachers talk about what happens in the school day. I am not ever the star of the show, and that is exactly how it should be and how I want it to be. My job is to be the introducer, the welcomer, the explainer and get out of the way. While stage fright isn't an issue, any time I am in front of a crowd I hear in the back of  my head "Hurry up and get out of the way! Never give the impression that you think this is about you!" This leads me to sometimes not be the best introducer, welcomer, and explainer. I'm working on it!

To that end, principals often have to do things that call attention to themselves. I am always game for some fun, but I am not terribly comfortable with this. For example, when we met our fund raising goal for PTO I had to kiss a snake. It made me a little sick. Not because of the snake (which was gross and icky and freaked me out), but because I had this irrational fear that I was teaching a bad lesson and that children all over the neighborhood would now go out and attempt to kiss random snakes all because I taught them it was an okay thing to do. I went out of my way to make it clear that this particular snake was a teacher's pet and that I had checked carefully to make sure it was a safe snake (I seriously said the words "safe snake" in front of the whole school) and that you should never, ever go near an animal you don't know unless you are with a responsible adult.

Have I ever mentioned that I can be obsessed about the weirdest things?

I also had to lip sync a One Direction song. When I announced to the students that I would do this if we met our goal, I sort of forgot my audience. In case you were wondering, kindergarteners don't know what lip syncing is, and they immediately thought One Direction was coming to our school. I could see it on their faces.

Uh Oh.

So I over-explained and talked about what lip syncing is and how One Direction would not be coming to school and the whole thing was quite a bust. It was like sad music played in the middle of a pep rally or something. So sad. "One Direction won't be here, but you'll have ME pretending to be them!  Won't that be awesome and fun?" Um...not really, lady. Not even close.

Can I call that a life lesson? It was for me!

I put off the whole lip syncing thing because (if I'm being totally honest) I was a little embarrassed every time I thought about it. But I'm a girl of my word, so at the end of the fourth grade talent show my office teammates and I performed our song. There were some technical difficulties with the music, and all in all it was a mostly hilarious, light-hearted thing. It was fun, and I was so glad it was done!

One day in the fall semester, we arrived at school to find it was largely without electricity. We called our operations folks, they came out and did some work, and we got a bit more power. By about ten a.m., we learned that a transformer had blown and would need to be replaced, and in the meantime we would have only 2/3 power. Some rooms didn't have lights, the air conditioning didn't work, the kitchen couldn't cook lunch...it was kind of a hot mess. After some creativity, our district electricians got the kitchen working. I had to work with the central office people to decide what to do, and I pushed to keep the kids at school. The powers-that-be agreed, and I spent the rest of the day telling everyone what an adventure we were having!  Our whole staff rallied, and kids learned all day. After school the transformer was successfully replaced. It was a win, and a true bonding experience for us all!

On the next to last day of school, which also happened to be class party day, there were tornadoes in the area right at dismissal time. That's not great.

We ducked and covered twice, the second time for about 40 minutes. I did an automated phone call to parents telling them that their kids were safe but that we were going to keep them right where they were until the storm passed. Storms don't bother me, and I'm usually the calm one when there are emergencies, so (weirdly) the day didn't really even stress me out. Once again, everyone rallied together. We had all hands on deck when we finally did dismiss in the pouring rain, and we were able to laugh at the terrible timing. The parents were especially great, trusting us to keep their kids safe and being patient. It ended up being another adventure.

If you know me at all, you know I cry at the drop of a hat. Surprisingly, I did not cry in front of the whole school this year. I didn't cry at sing-a-longs or even kindergarten graduation. This is HUGE for me. Unfortunately, it all came crashing down on the last day of school at the fourth grade program. I held it together until the very end when I recognized them as the first fourth grade class of Spring Creek Elementary.

Dude. I lost it. I tried so hard to stay composed, but my voice turned into a throaty, half weeping mess. I told them I had thought of each of them before they ever stepped foot on our campus. That they were a gift to their teachers, to me, and to each other. To go from our school and continue being a gift to those they meet. It is exactly how I feel about them, and I couldn't get through it without melting into a puddle. I suppose there are worse things.

Another item of note is the power of a group email or text with the other elementary principals. I asked LOTS of questions, and someone was always willing to give me a clear, straight answer. I never felt like my questions were silly or being judged. I was so blessed to have a group of people who were helpful and kind. I often tell staff that we're better together than by ourselves, and I was certainly better because of my colleagues.

I also learned to cut myself some slack.  I learned it's okay to know the answer, to know what my gut says, but to still need to talk it out. I am thankful for mentors who I could call any time to say, "I know what the right thing is, but I need someone else to tell me I'm not wrong." I learned that even if people really want a decision right now, sometimes the best thing to do is sleep on it, pray about it, and not rush. I think I'm much more comfortable with that now than I was at the beginning of the year.

And so our first year is done. I hope it's not wrong to say it's anti-climactic. We're all home, doing what we love, giving our best to kids. As great as this year was, I know that next year will be even better. Looking forward to year two is no less exciting than looking back at year one. I don't think I expected that. I'm ready for summer and some time off, but I am still mystified that they really pay me to do this job.

That's a good year.

Getting Prepared

I love Christmas. I really do.

This morning we almost didn't go to church. Trey and I didn't have Sunday school because so many people are out of town. Also, he and I both have colds. Also, it's raining and cold and gross outside. We slept past the 8:00 service (our usual), and I just don't love the contemporary service at 9:30 (it's not my thing, no hard feelings if it's yours), so we almost didn't go.

But I'm so glad we did.

The sermon was titled "A People Prepared." I was reminded that last year for Advent season I challenged myself to write something reflective of the season every day. You can find those posts here (scroll to the bottom to get to December 1st). But I've hardly thought about what I might do to honor the season this year. I haven't thought much about getting prepared for the arrival of the Christ child.

If I'm being honest, the past several months have probably raised more questions in my faith than anything. Don't get me wrong, I am firm and true in my belief of Christ as the Savior of the world and my eternity in heaven because of that fact. But I've questioned a lot. I've questioned what Jesus would do about Syrian refugees, about terror in the world, who he would support as a leader of our country and what really qualifies a person to do that job (would he insist that only a Christian is qualified? should that even be a talking point of a presidential candidate?), and on and on.

Other people seem so sure of themselves on issues like these. I think I've read scripture references (mostly on social media) that support both sides of every issue, and it feels like everyone is 100% certain they are right and that God agrees with them. And I'm still just baffled most of the time. I've wondered if maybe my faith isn't as strong as these people who are so certain when it comes to world issues.

Enter this excerpt from this morning's sermon notes: "Advent doesn't depend on our faith. It's about God's faithfulness."

What a good word.

My God IS faithful. All the time.

And now I am inspired to create a plan for my Advent this year. I want to share a couple of options I've found.

First, there is the phenomenal scripture writing plan from my friend Shannon. She posts one every month, and this month someone has even translated it to Spanish. You can find it here on her web site if you're interested.

This Advent study popped up on my Facebook feed just as I sat down to write this post (no kidding). It's from New Life Church in B/CS, which is led by parents of some of the kids at my school. I haven't read it all in detail, but it's definitely a good option.

I've got a little more than 24 hours to get my plan together.

I love Christmas.

The Time Tucker Made the Seventh Grade Basketball Team

First, I don't often write about my kids' adventures and shenanigans like I did when they were little. This is for three reasons. 1) If I only write about good things it seems like I'm one of those people who thinks my kids are perfect and I live my whole life with the sole purpose of seeing them be perfect. This is decidedly not true. 2) They are too old to think it's fun to have their every move - good or bad - documented and shared with the Internet. Of course I read their texts and direct messages and check their phone histories, but they need some privacy for goodness sakes!  3) The world has earthquakes and terrorists and tsunamis. Anything I may choose to write about sometimes seems silly and trivial in contrast. We live a good life. I don't want to sound like the world around me is minor and our silly stuff is major. I am well aware that this post is about seventh grade basketball.

On to the reason I'm here...

Last week it came up in conversation that I wrote in a journal to Tucker when I was pregnant with him. I continued writing to him until Keaton was born (surprise!). This blog started in 2008, so I guess nothing really important happened in the three years between. Anyway, Tucker got out the book and read through it, and I realized again that there are some things that should be written down, shared with my grandkids when they ask me about their dad when he was a kid. You know, when Trey and I are too senile to remember anything.

So I'm documenting the time Tucker made the seventh grade basketball team.

Boys basketball tryouts at our middle school are hard core. I don't know exactly how many kids try out, but I think it's somewhere between 60 and 90 (depending on who you ask and how dramatic they feel that day). The try outs last four days with cuts each day, and by the last day they are down to 26. I am impressed and fascinated that so many kids try out. I don't think at 12 I had the constitution to show up for something with bad odds like that. Honestly, I don't think I would have even tried out.

Of course Tucker wanted to try out, but maybe for the first time ever in his life, he was nervous. The minute the last football game ended, he started asking where and when he could go to practice shooting. On the first night of tryouts, he came home from practice and then went to the court to shoot for another hour. He obsessed.

He started talking about basketball shoes, and because I'm such a supportive mother I told him it would be wasteful to buy shoes until he made the team. He didn't argue, which is like a weird miracle these days.

On day two of tryouts, I asked if he thought he had a shot. He explained it like this: "There are kids who aren't going to make it. There are kids who are going to make it. There are kids on the bubble. I'm on the bubble." On day three of tryouts, the other two guys we carpool with got cut. It's like Tucker was holding his breath, all the time thinking, shooting every minute he could. I've truly never seen him so nervous.

This is stressful for a mom! (poor me, right?) Tucker is the kid for whom things tend to come easily. He doesn't seem to work too terribly hard on things like schoolwork and still does well. He can sometimes give off this very irritating over-confidence. Whether he made the team or not, this was becoming a good life lesson for him.

It's hard to watch your kids learn lessons.

On the last day of tryouts, four guys were going to be cut. Tucker was focused and maybe a little scared on his way to the gym. For his mom and dad, it was a long two hours.

He came out to the car when we picked him up, handed me a schedule, and said, "Looks like you need to add some money to your budget for basketball shoes." Then he asked if we could go to the gym so he could work on his layups.

Of course I acted cool about it, but I was really, really happy for him.

And so in these years when my almost-thirteen-year-old son has the "I know everything and you're an idiot and how dare you tell me what to do" disease, I will remember these moments. Moments of uncertainty that highlight his ability to work hard even when the outcome is not likely to go in his favor. His ability to handle pressure. His ability to recognize his own weaknesses and desire to work on them until he can't anymore.

When I want to throat-punch him and his smart mouth and when I'm yelling at him about how little effort he puts into anything that isn't a sport, I will remember that somewhere in there is a kid growing up into a person I'm happy to know.

As a concluding side note, I love basketball. Really, really love it. Trey has already informed me that he may not be able to sit with me at games. If you hear a crazy lady yelling during the CSMS seventh grade B team on Monday, there is no need to turn around and see who it is. It's probably  me.

13.1

This morning I ran a half marathon.

I wrote this blog post on April 7, 2015 about my plan to become a runner. On April 15th, I wrote this post about being stuck and not being able to run more than a quarter mile. Then I really started battling the words in my head, the negative self-talk that can take over when I'm not paying attention. All because of running.

If you've followed my journey at all, or been around me for any length of time, you know that I have persisted in this whole running thing. When July in Texas brought 100 degree heat and 150% humidity, I started getting up at 7:00 to run. When I officially went back to work in August, I started getting up at 5:00 in the morning to run. I don't really do mornings before there is sun, so this was quite a feat. It was dedication on my part. I finished the Couch to 5K app, and then decided I needed another plan to follow. I'd gotten up to about four miles on my weekly runs, so I decided that I would attempt to run the BCS Half Marathon in December. I downloaded Run Keeper and started on the training plan for a run-walk half.

My awesome friend April would get up even earlier than me and drive to my house to run with me. If I ever wanted to sleep in, I knew I couldn't because April would be in the driveway. Then she moved to Spain (for real), but I had enough routine that I could continue my week day runs on my own. My training plan eventually said that I needed to run eight miles. Eight. Miles.

Um, no.

As soon as I recovered from my denial, I decided I needed a plan. I hadn't been taking water on my runs, but eight miles needed water. And a bathroom. And a planned route so I didn't end up eight miles from my house with no way home. I started asking lots of questions to my friend Erin, until she finally offered to run with me (I think I wore her down subliminally!).

I was quite surprised that on that Saturday, I ran eight miles. It was shocking, really.

Then 9.5 miles.

Then 11 miles.

Erin knew I had signed up for the Nutrabolt 10K in October, and asked me why I wasn't doing the half instead. The truth is that I had planned to do a half in December, not October. But as we ran 11 miles together and she offered to run the race with me, I realized that I WAS ready for a half marathon, so I got to work on changing my registration.

As it turned out, I missed the cut off by a couple of days. But I had gotten excited about it, so I finally relented and registered for the half at full price. With my registration for the 10K I made a donation to Mercy Project and got a really cool Nathan water bottle. Probably the most expensive water bottle I'll ever own!

As the race approached, so did Hurricane Patricia. I became increasingly anxious about the weather. It hadn't rained since May or June, and we were projected record-breaking rainfall in the days surrounding my first half marathon. It was hard to get mad, though, because people were experiencing real, life-changing danger as a result of the hurricane. For me it was just a little race.

I went to pick up my race packet on Saturday, and the rain was so hard and the roads were so wet that I was convinced they would cancel. I alternated between being angry that I had trained for something that wasn't going to happen and being happy that I wouldn't have to run in the rain and wind.

On race morning, I checked my phone about 5:15 a.m. and was surprised not to see an email about the cancellation. Then when my alarm went off at six, I was again surprised - no email. No cancellation. Erin texted to say if I wanted to skip it she'd understand, but I couldn't do it. I knew I'd be mad at myself if I wimped out, so I got dressed and got on the road.

It was cold. Windy. Wet. Dark. Before the race started I commented that this was probably the craziest thing I've ever done by choice. The rain under the streetlights made it look worse than it felt. Finally, we ran.

For the first few miles, we tried to keep our shoes dry. But after running down a street with water running in puddles across it, we gave up. The rain let up a little, then it picked up a little, then it let up. It was always raining, but not consistently. At some point I felt like my jacket was drying out, but another little downpour took care of that. I don't think I knew how wet I was until we made a porta-potty stop. It was surprising to see how drenched my pants were. Let's just say that pulling them back up was quite a challenge!

Mile 8 was hard. I considered sitting down on the side of the road, but I didn't. Once I saw the mile 10 marker I felt good. Three to go!

Then the "rolling hills" that I knew would be near the end were more like mountains. I said some bad words. A little past mile 12, the rain and wind really picked up. It was the windiest, coldest I'd been the whole race. I knew that Trey and the boys were going to meet me at the finish, and I thought about how hard it would be not to just jump in the truck if they happened to pass by us.

But Erin encouraged me and we persevered. Near the finish I could see my family, and that made me really, really happy. I was proud that I didn't just sit down on the ground once I crossed the finish. I really did think about it. Really.

We picked up our shirts, got our beer steins and got in the beer line. I don't drink beer (not on principle but because I don't like it). In that moment it actually sounded good. Especially with the pretzels I knew were at the next table. When they asked me what kind I wanted, I told them "the lightest beer you have." The few sips I had weren't bad.

I had planned for us to finish in about 2:41. Our time was 2:32. I liked that a lot.

And now the top ten things I learned about running a half marathon:
1) In January, I couldn't run for two minutes without stopping.
2) In April, I couldn't run a mile.
3) Intervals are cool. I run distances in 5 minute run/2 minute walk intervals. I can go farther, faster with that plan.
4) Running distances is better with a friend. I really like my alone time, and I don't ever mind running by myself during the week for 4-5 miles because it clears my head and helps me get ready for my day. But I can't imagine running for hours alone. It would be boring. And when one person wants to quit or take it easy, the other person can push her. Running with a friend is good.
5) During wet, cold races, the volunteers are in much worse shape than the runners. We were warm while we ran, and after a while you don't notice the rain as much. If I were standing still I would have been miserable.
6) Races stop traffic. It happens. In one instance, a police officer had stopped traffic for us to run past, and the lady in the very first car rolled down her window to cheer us on. That was awesome. She could have chosen to be grumpy about the interruption in her day, but instead she put some positive out in the world. High five, lady in the car!
7) When you're running in the rain you're pretty warm because you're running. Then you stop, and you get really cold because your clothes are soaking wet. No hot shower ever felt as good as the hot shower I took when I got home. No. Shower. Ever.
8) I am spoiled. Trey let me take his truck home because I was almost out of gas and he wanted to fill up my car. Then he went to the grocery store - my usual weekend chore - because he's the nicest person I know and I'm spoiled.
9) Running 13.1 miles burned somewhere between 1600 and 1700 calories. I might eat all day long.
10) Anyone can run a half marathon. Maybe not tomorrow, but it's possible for anyone who puts in the work. I couldn't run for two minutes in January.

My calves hurt and my feet are sore and I have a knot in my right butt cheek (weird, right?), but check it out. I'm a runner.