Chasing hope: A personal post

There are times when you just need to run, when you need a race. You need the miles, the pavement. You need to breathe hard, to find space. You need to work, to work toward something.

And since I became a runner nearly five years ago, I'm not sure I've needed the sport or an event more than I have needed it now.

I have been melancholy at best and severely depressed at worst in the past month. It's a fact I've alluded to here on this blog. And though the deeply personal reasons are not ones I'll spell out, it's fair to say that there are times in a relationship when you discover that not only are you not on the same page, you are not even reading the same book. It's hard, painful. Even more so when the "problem" is one you can't avoid.

As I've struggled in this period, I have found myself researching fall marathons, contemplating an epic 50K in December, mapped my way out mile by mile. I planned longer runs, or tried to (stupid weather), with my group. I registered for an out-of-town half marathon before seeking the typical approval of family. The more distance I covered, the more I could be separated from life.

What I realized, though, is it's all a distraction - a Band-Aid - and not a solution. I can run a third marathon but I would be doing it to get back at someone, which is not a good headspace to take on 26.2. I can run a 50K but would the snowy, icy trails really by the ice bath my sore soul needed?

Though the answer was no, it didn't take away from the fact that I desperately needed something. And that's when fate, maybe, stepped in.

On a nearly forgotten Pinterest board, I pinned the Bourbon Chase as a bucket list race. The 200-mile relay takes teams of 12 through the Bourbon trail of Kentucky, with exchanges at the famous distilleries of the Bluegrass State. Mark and I once visited some of those distilleries, and that trip will always have fond memories. To see the area on foot, I knew, would be a once in the lifetime chance.

It's a chance my twitter BFF Alyse knew I wanted and when someone she knew needed female runners for an open mixed team, it was my name she gave. She knows me well and, when she did so, did it because she thought it would be a fun thing. Little did she know it would be more than a race to me - it would be hope.

The race would be something to look forward to, something that I wanted for me (even if it was filling other needs). It would be a race that wouldn't compromise everything without holding out either. It would be insurance that if life didn't go as planned that I still had something for me. Even if the race didn't pan out as the team captain had more women than he needed (lucky guy!), the thought of doing it would carry me through some dark days.

On Saturday morning, though, I got the official word: I am a member of the Pirates of the Bourbon Trail open mixed team and on Oct. 10, I will set off on my first leg through the gorgeous countryside. I will live out a dream.

Five for the road

This weekend was cause for celebration.

With a lot of love, work and the grace of God, Mark and I marked five years of marriage. It's been quite the ride, these 1,800-plus days, but I think we're both happier for having taken the journey.

This anniversary seemed like such a milestone, much bigger than the others, and so we decided to celebrate in the most fitting way: Ordering carry-out and fighting with Miles to eat his dinner.

You might think I'm kidding but I'm not. Our anniversary day, Friday, was non-descript - work and family. We had considered going out but Miles was in no mood to be in public and our baby-sitter (aka my mother-in-law) was recuperating from surgery. Before you feel bad, which I know you don't, I think it should be said that a) I think it was a good celebration of the life we created; b) we had a date night last week; and c) there was cake.

An amazing chocolate-strawberry cake from a nearby panaderia. Oh. My. Word. It was so delicious and far better than the cake I had on my wedding.

Wait. I didn't have cake at my wedding. Sad but true. I was too busy dancing and talking to eat the piece my friend had saved. When I went back for it, the catering crew had thrown it away.

The one thing Mark and I reflected on, over this weekend, was that the wedding and the marriage was/is so much more than us. It's about the family we've made, the friendships we have fostered and the bonds we celebrate.

Terrible photo but it does show that people were actually at my house.

So it was only fitting to have some of those who were there for us on Dec. 13, 2008, to be with us this weekend as well.

I made a dinner of braised short ribs and creamy polenta, and our friends brought green bean casserole (hello, it's the holidays!), bread and wine.

It was a delicious meal filled with food, conversation and drink. While I was not hip to the custom cocktail when I was in the midst of planning my nuptials, I made a perfect drink for our guests.

Made with ginger ale Zevia, triple sec and pomegranate juice, it was fruity and sweet and a bit too smooth. As in you can drink several before you realize that you are drinking alcohol. It was a gorgeous burgundy color that made it quite festive for the season. For the under 21 population, it can easily become a mocktail by substituting orange juice for the liqueur.

Ginger Holiday Sparkler

1 ounce triple sec
4 ounces pomegranate juice
Ginger ale Zevia, chilled

Pour triple sec and juice into a wine glass. Top with Zevia. Garnish with orange slices. Drink and be merry.

Disclosure: I was provided with Zevia, free of charge, for an upcoming review but was not required to create a recipe or write a post. All opinions and alcohol consumption are my own.

Love on the run

I might not always like him but I will always love him.

Thursday, Mark and I celebrated our fourth anniversary. Four friggin' years of ups, downs, highs and lows. We've weathered family problems and the death of my mom; adopted an enthusiastic puppy by the name of Denali; bought a house; and created the most amazing child on the planet. Sorry if you are a parent and this is news to you but it's the truth.

And though I still feel like Mark and I are the same two crazy people who got married in December, it's amazing how we both have changed. All you have to do is look at our wedding photos.

Mark looks so much younger and I look a lot less fit. I definitely think I win in this equation.

As I've been consumed with the health of my grandma (thank you for all the well wishes - she has stabilized and has moved to a nursing home for rehab), I've been reflecting on my own and how much mine has changed since Mark and I got married. How those changes aren't a coincidence. I've been able to do what I've done because of him.

Mark never forced me to lose weight. He never said I was fat or unattractive or undesirable. Just the opposite. But, he never shied away from being a role model and an encouraging one at that. By example, he showed me that people can exercise for the pure joy and not because of weight loss or vanity. He supported any effort I made to exercise and was always willing to scale down his efforts to do it with me.

He came up with the idea to participate in my first road race, the now defunct Warbird 5K, and then ran with me, each and every step, in a blistering 42 minutes. He was just as proud of me on that May morning when I finished as he was when I set my PR two years later.

He took me to Three Rivers Running Co. so I could get fitted for my first pair of running shoes, Nike Air Pegasus, beginning a new love affair that I'm not so sure his wallet enjoys.

Just as I celebrated being able to run 4 miles, he came up with a crazy idea that we should do a half marathon - not just him, but us. I did that one and four more, and he's attended all but one of those races. Cheering me on and giving me a hug despite my sweat and stank.

As I began to become a more dedicated runner, he helped ignite my passion by buying me a generous birthday gift - a Garmin Forerunner 305. His friends always tease Mark for being cheap but he's never said no to something I "needed" for running. If I'll use it, I can have it. Well, nine times out of 10.

He's remained a constant, enthusiastic training partner. Mark knows how to get me out for a run when I am just being lazy, and he knows how to push me beyond what I think I can do. I've ran some of my fastest races with him by my side, telling me to stay in it and that I can do it.

Most importantly, he's always believed in me more than I ever dared believe in myself. Even as I grow more confident, in life and fitness, Mark is always thinking of the next big thing I can do.

And then helping me do it.