What An Experience… #14in2014

You got that right Janelle. I can feel it…feel it…feel it.

At the start of this, it was about fun with my friends, and revenge against people who thought I couldn’t do it. Who looked me in my eyes with so much judgment and disgust, that I really started off in the worst place. Not doing this for the most important person on the planet. Me.

But that soon dissipated. Running does that. You lose more than just that stuff they care about at medical doctor’s visits. You loose the stuff that weighing you down to that couch at the therapist’s office. Sure your skin is darker because you’ve been running in the sun. But you are so much lighter, and that’s a mixture that’s always attractive.

In January, I had million trillion races to do. Because I mean, if you have shoes and feet, you can actually do that many. I mean, it’s just running, jeez. Anyone can do it. And that’s right, anyone can do it. If they want to. I read a most inspiring story about Antoine Craig, after losing his sight, found his way running - to the finish line. I’ve seen the finish clearly, on multiple occasions, and had my doubts #LikeAMirageInTheSahara.

Well, what was #14in2014?

RECAP: I took down a 4K and unknown amount of beer in the Tap N Run. There were 4 5K’s. One lonely 8K with a Mariachi Mile! A 5 miler the homeys soul’d and stroll’d with me. Five 10Ks. The time I #RanLikeHella with #TeamTallsAndSmalls in the Oakland Marathon Relay! #Leg2Small1 #6.6milesGoingUpYonder. Then that 12K that I just um…if I could forget some of the sights on my way to the Breakers, I wouldn’t need as much therapy as I’m getting now. And finally, 4 half marathons that were all so amazing…so much so! Seriously, each one was packed with so much unexpected emotion…things I never thought I would feel. I medaled 99.17 miles, and raced 122.27 miles. Not bad for 18 races and 17 medals.

 

That wasn’t all the medal’ing though! Two remix challenges – San Jose & Las Vegas. Two Cali challenges which I have dubbed #TheCaliforniaTakeover #IOwnCalifornia – I Run The Bay, I Run The Coast – 408K-415K-510K & RnR SD-SJ-LA! And because I’m a heavy medalist, I’m down with the Rock Encore, Triple Crown, and Grand Slam Crews! #ImSuchAGroupie #24MedalsTotal #MedalsMotivateMe #AllAboutThatBling

What goals do you strive to achieve?

My goals are (were) fairly abstract. I want to be healthier, sure. But I’ve been focusing my energy on running. This year, I challenged myself to #14in2014… I’ve spent the year running and blogging about the experience.

How long have you been running?

Running in organized events? Since 2010. However, it’s only been this year that I have seriously committed to running.

Most have not come as far as you in terms of your level and commitment. What accomplishment are you most proud of?

I’m not sure I’d call it commitment or success. Or even say that I made it that far. I’m very goal oriented/driven so if there’s a challenge I tend to do whatever it takes... I’m not sure what I’m most proud of honestly. I’ll have to think on that one. But, one of the amazing and beautiful things about this year is all the people in my life (and around it) who have been influenced by what I’ve done. I’ve convinced quite a few skeptics to take a chance on running. And many have created challenges of their own. You really never know who is watching you. For everyone who doesn’t believe/wants to see you fail (they are there), there is someone who’s inspired and waiting on you to win (there’s totally way more of these people).

Is there a favorite medal? Or race?

I’m not sure there is a favorite. But when I think of that question, Rock n Roll San Diego comes to mind. Though it wasn’t the first “flight to race” of the year, it was the first half marathon of the year. I was so anxious! But it was perfect. Everything about that race experience. Good meal the night before. Yapping and catching up with #ConferenceHubby. Running a great race – which didn’t feel great at all doing it. Getting to the finish line and seeing my friends there, excited, with sign just for me! Up to that point, nobody had ever been at the finish line waiting for me to arrive. Even my best friend went into the casinos to gamble. I had to call him when I got close. And if the experience could not have gotten any better, my Foster parents came to see me post-race! I have never felt so loved at a running experience than I did in that moment. It’s not often that a day, an experience, and event is all about me, the whole time. But it was. A group of people, some I had only known months were there, to celebrate me. More so than anything, I felt like I had truly accomplished something.

Then days later, I found out that I PR’d that race.

Is there a least favorite medal? Or race?

Um, love all my medals. But race…that’s easy. Rock n Roll Los Angeles. Pretty sure I’ll never do that one again Hated it. I take that back, I hated the race, loved running with my Baby Mama. If it wasn’t for her, it would be a complete thumbs-down. It’s like 5% thumb up.

What’s the craziest/funniest/weirdest thing you seen in this #14in2014 experience?

That’s always going to be Bay to Breakers. I mean, it just started off all kinds of wrong. From the Caltrain ride to the city, to the walk to the start line. Fix it Jesus! Mend it Moses! I was not ready Father God for the things I saw on that day. I should have been up in Church instead of stomping on tortilla shells #DeathOfTacoTuesday and seeing old white men sans clothing. Poor little wieners flopping around. I’m sure someone’s testes have arthritis now. How in the world do you explain that to a 10 year old? As in, the many 10 year olds I saw at the race.

Which race had the best swag?

OMG! This is a great question! I am always partial to Rock n Roll Las Vegas! I think the nostalgia more than anything, makes it the best everything in my mind. But, to be honest, a little ole race I did in Nashville, comparatively speaking had the best swag! That’s right…the Tap N Run gets the medal, for having an awesome medal that doubles as a bottle opener…hanging from a purple ribbon…my favorite color. Multi-function medals are always a plus! As a beer run, not only did you get an awesome shirt (it was cotton, but c’mon, it wasn’t even 3 miles, they get a pass for that). You were able to customize your bib with any name you wanted #nateezy. I got a beer koozie, a car decal, sunglasses, a free Uber ride we didn’t need, and unlimited beer. Sure I’m not a beer drinker, point is, the beer was free and plentiful. Because at heart, we’re all beer drinkers with running problems.

Definitely a great running and drinking experience with awesome swag, for a very reasonable price!

What’s the best/funniest cheering sign you’ve seen at any race in 2014?

The funniest I’ve seen actually being in a race is probably long gone. I got out of the habit of taking pictures of the signs because, well, my feet be hurting…and I get hungry and confused and ish. The funniest in any race I’ve seen (‘cause someone else was there and took the picture) was the Baltimore Marathon this year. Someone had a sign that said Run Faster, Omar Coming #TheWireForYouSlowFolks. Literary genius! I definitely want to add Baltimore to my 2015!

The Smile If You’re Not Wearing Underwear and Run Like Someone Called You A Jogger are in the running! After Omar, of course.

If you could create your own medal, what would it look like?

Now this is something that will haunt me for my running life. I always seem to have something profound to say about medals once I get them, but I’m not sure I could create one of my own! It would have to be for a themed race, for sure. For instance…I plan on finally doing one of these bacon races because bacon is life, more abundantly. An awesome bacon medal would be a black skillet like your grandma got in her cabinet right now. Four slices of thick cut applewood bacon frying on it. With sparkling grease pops on the skillet. Bacon all glistening and ish.

You hella hungry right now, hunh? Right.

Basically, I have no idea what the medal would look like. That’s what I really meant to say.

What’s on your running playlist?

That’s a loaded question. As in loaded with about 300 or so songs! I keep a ton of them on there because my music tastes are eccentric, and I get moody when I run. Sometimes I need that upbeat workout music. Other times, I need my jazzy/blues-y tunes, and Gregory Porter will always get me there. Panic At The Disco! Usually has me feeling some kind of great way, and doggone if I don’t need to feel like I’m back in Tennessee every now and then. If I’m running on Sundays, listening to Joint Heirs makes me feel better about not being in Church #IKnowImWrong #YouDontEvenHaveToSayIt. I still haven’t answered your question. Since this was about 14, I’ll give you 14 of them…

     1) Check Out Time – Tupac

     2) Victory – Janelle Monaé

     3) Walking Shoes – Mali Music

4) You & I Both – Jason Mraz

5) Double Heart – The Band Perry

6) Move Along – The All American Rejects

7) Gone Under – Snarky Puppy w/ Shayna Steele

8) Let Her Dance – Stephen Marley

9) Oye Como Va – Santana

10) Tears Dry On Their Own – Amy Winehouse

11) Favorite Star – Quadron

12) Undertow – Goapele

13) Speak Low – Dianne Reeves

14) Best of Me, Part 2 – DJ Clue, Jay Z, Mya

Is there a favorite or memorable #MedalMonday?

Oh, you mean the one where I wanted to fire one of my staff? Sure is! So, about the aftermath of Bay to Breakers… I got sick. Somewhere between the race and the next day. Isn’t hard to believe since people were outside running all nekkid and whatnot #cooties. I mean, I am really sick, but we have our staff meeting. I still have my medal on because by this point, it’s May and I’ve indoctrinated my staff to not ask how I’m doing, but instead ask where’s your medal? Anyway, we’ve taken the #MedalMonday picture, and now we’re in the meeting and my entire sinus cavity is in cahoots with my respiratory system, and I just can’t get an inch of relief. Anyway, enter the #MedalMonday photo that will never be topped. At least I don’t see how. #IHateRocco #ItsSoFunnyTho #ButUgh lol

What was the hardest part of #14in2014?

Aside from my calf muscles conspiring against my greatness every single 10K and longer, the hardest part was finishing. Not just finishing, but finishing well. I mean, I knew I could always do it. I would have run injured before finishing this year without 14 medals. (I know better than to do that now). But I am so focused that it is rare that I don’t achieve a goal, especially one I have been so vocal about. Finishing well though? I didn’t believe I’d look better at the end of this. I assumed I’d be tired, exhausted, and that I probably would burn every running everything I’ve bought and collected on this endeavor. Staying encouraged on the journey. Having faith that something greater is in this, even if I don’t know where to look. Being hopeful that I could become a better something. And you know what made that difficult? Comparison. I spent a great deal of the year comparing my run and all the things about it to what I thought was the standard, or to the people around me. You know, what was socially acceptable among runners. It was so hard to focus. Even at the end.

After all of this, who are you now?

I don’t know exactly who I am. I do know that I am less confused. And I’m not so eager to find out. I’ve oscillated back and forth about being a runner. Or being a writer. Just like I worry about whether or not I’m a good person, or if my parents are proud of me. I could work to figure out the answer to that, or I could just live in the gray. I may not know with great certainty if I’m a runner. But, I do run. I also write. I sometimes do good things. And there have been occasions where I made my parents proud. That just has to be okay. Besides, my best friend knows me better than I ever could. So that’s enough.

Well, #14in2014 is done. What’s up for 2015?

          Check back tomorrow. You’ll see the next hashtag.

Uh, I think you forgot about one… #Race19(No)Medal18

Well, I did not forget. I actually registered myself and my child that ALWAYS GOT SOMETHING TO SAY! I mean, it’s another state and a Christmas themed race! We are going to Jingle Our Bells for a great cause! Medals!!!

At least that’s what she led me to believe when she text me about the race options in Seattle. I should have known she didn’t read the fine print. Medals for those the runners who place in their age group, and uh, yall know my life. You’ve been reading the blog. There’s none of that.

But we registered anyway. It’s all in good fun.

…and that was the extent of what we did. I don’t know, but something about this one always gave me the feeling that it wasn’t going to happen. I didn’t want to admit that though. No medals. Registered a couple of weeks before the race. No packet pick up option #MailOnly. Did not receive my packet in the mail before my flight (with my bib and timing chip)…or race tee. And nothing about the three days spent before the race had anything to do with the fact that at some point we were going to run/walk/drag our butts 3.1 miles.

And oddly enough, I am okay with it. Sure I would love to be able to say I got another running event in, in another state. That would have made for a great blog post. I mean, you already think I’m the most amazing person you know…that would have just made me like, like, like Jesus’ Administrative Assistant. I woulda been great yo. Filing blessings and taking yalls’ prayer messages.

But it wasn’t meant for me. If the running has taught me anything, it’s that I am going to miss the mark. It’s that every challenge isn’t mine to overcome the first time around. And above all, no matter the outcome, if you show up again the next day, something better might be there.

The night before the race I just knew we were going to run, my baby girl that ALWAYS GOT SOMETHING TO SAY and I sat around a cheese tray eating grapes and drinking some awesome concoction that I came up with. I’m like a bartender. And by bartender, I mean, I know how to find a bar, and I tend to get things while I’m there.

She picked at a couple of my emotional scars. And she is persistent…just like her hood mommie. She would not let up. Not in a badgering way either. Just in a I love you, but you are going to answer this question and talk about this ish with me kind of way #SheWasRaisedRight #SheWasTaughtWell #YoureWelcomeWorld. She definitely has that way about her. I had to admit some feelings I never anticipated ever sharing, especially with her.

There are things you don’t tell your kids. At least not while they’re kids. No parent ever wants their kids to know how hard life can be. Parents spend their lives (parents worth anything, anyway) making life as easy and as wonderful and as beautiful as they can for their kids. Life can get real shitty real quick, and it will, if you keep on living. So for me and my kids, they got every happy anything I could manufacture in Conway, Arkansas, and I kept all the rest for me. Right or wrong, it was my choice, and mine alone to understand.

It’s just that my kids aren't kids anymore. So it’s time to let some of it go. And to do that, I have to give something up.

Crying, tortured, wishing on some four leaf clover, to free you from the chains that bind you, fleeing from yourself…

In time you'll figure out, we search our whole lives, to seek what's inside, we run but can't hide…

Begging strangers to try, to shield us from pain, hoping we'll change, but it stays the same…

Why do you defeat you? Let the past mistreat you? You don't wanna let it go…

No one else can help you, only you can free you, but you gotta let it go, let it go…

Vicious circle, frozen by the fears that lurk, you'll wind up in the place you run to, find you've lost your way…

But in time you'll figure out, we search our whole lives, to seek what's inside, we run but can't hide…

Begging strangers to try, to shield us from pain, hoping we'll change, but we remain in the game…

Why do you defeat you? Let the past mistreat you? You don't wanna let it go…

No one else can help you, only you can free you, but you gotta let it go, let it go.

I’ll get that 19^th race one of these years. Perhaps even an 18^th medal. Just not this one. This year I got something better. I got a little bit closer to freedom. #ItFeelsDivine

OUTLIERS... #HowManyOfYouAreThere?

Dear Outliers,

Do me a solid and have a seat. Don’t know if you’re an Outlier? Well, if you are not someone who directly supports and/or commits behaviors such as the officers in the Eric Garner or Keyarika Diggles cases…and you’re on that side of law enforcement, then I’m talking to you. And you should be seated on that there pew. For example, if you have never choked a man to death for selling a loose cigarette, then you should have a seat. None of this applies to you. (you can read this tho)

Okay, now what was I writing…

You non-outliers are so quick to say you don’t know us, our work, our struggle, our life etc. etc. etc… And you are right. I don’t know all of that. But I do know a man gasping for air when I see one. And I didn’t even use any of my fancy degrees for that.

Since when did we have to “be in the know” about these things to offer critique. Our country’s foundation is built on that very premise…along with the backs of my ancestors…but that’s another blog post. How often do teachers come under fire for failing students? What do you know about obtaining a credential and managing a classroom? What about doctors for their (mal)practice and life intervening techniques? You took your Hippocratic Oath when exactly? And our favorite…lawyers for their linguistic gymnastics via the various interpretations of the legal system? You passed which Bar Exam? California?? Sure you did. Hell, even Wall Street. The extent of my experience is an Economics class at Menlo-Atherton High School [TINSTASFL] and a selfie I took with that bull thingie. But, does that make my commentary on the thousands of innocent 401Ks and retirement plans of my fellow Americans lost to corporate greed less relevant? And really people, there have been what, 40 some odd Presidents in this country and how many billion people somehow presume to know exactly what President Obama should be doing?

Critique. Criticism. Feedback. Evaluation. These things are part of life. Get over it. We did not turn over authority to law enforcement along with our opinion and feedback about the service we receive. We kept that. We keep that. And, we will continue to give it.

I work in higher education. I am a trained student development educator. I am in essence, an expert of sorts on college students. Yet week after week, I hear from parents who see my “expert” knowledge of their college student as false because that’s their “child” and they would never set fire to a trashcan that in turn burned half the suite furniture. Never. I’m totally wrong.

Do you see me on a soapbox? Well, every so often because, well stress. But, I hear them. I listen to them. I weigh their messages with what they think I don’t know. And I show empathy. They have no idea what my life is like behind these campus walls. I will never know what it was to give birth to someone, and leave them at the wall – come what may.

If every officer were like you outliers, then we would not be having this conversation. To be honest, for every #CrimingWhileWhite story, there’s a #CrimingWhileCop one. Your experiences with police as civilians are soooo divergent from the general populace. So miss me with that. I don’t know your life. And you have no idea what it feels like to be afraid to death at the sound of sirens and sight of light, attempting to rationalize to yourself that you must have done something wrong, though, the most you could come up with is #DrivingWhileBlack.

There are those of you who exercise good judgment. Enforce the law justly. Educate civilians on your processes and procedures. Represent yourselves and the true purpose of your profession with great honor. You protect and serve. Risk your lives daily. The sentiments that have been shared are not about you. At all. However, we wonder, how can you in good conscious say that Eric Garner or the countless black bodies beaten, bruised and lost somehow ALL earned their fates? As if it was their fault in every single case. How many times did he tell the officer he couldn’t breathe? Is it a crime to be sleep? Did Eric present some danger that we couldn’t see? A danger that meant he didn’t have the right to breathe? If so, enlighten me. I’ll wait. Like really, I would like to know, so I will wait. Are you so far behind your shield and uniform so snug that you cannot objectively propose that perhaps there was another way? If now, then the aisle leading to the pews are open for you too. There’s room.

I have heard all too often that officers were in fear for their lives. This is not an untruth. I cannot dispute that at all. But, if you are so anxious, if your judgment is always thrown off, if every time we Monday Morning Quarterback your decisions there was always something else that you could have done, then maybe law enforcement was not the profession for you. You realize we hold athletes and entertainers more accountable than you? Tony Romo is my quarterback and I stand behind him as a Cowboys fan, but it would be absurd for me to excuse every interception JUST BECAUSE he’s the quarterback, and I’ve never been one. No, he’s needs to practice, meditate and read the damn defense. My fantasy football team will never be great or make it to the playoffs if something doesn’t change! I thought I was going to be a Sports Doctor at one time. I loved my academic study. Did a decent job in it. Thought it was the field for me. Then, after seeing enough sports injuries I thought, or nah. As much as I loved my intensive academic study, the reality was, I was not going to be the best Sports Doctor. And it was really hard to let go of that dream. But at some point, you have to take inventory of yourself and be honest. If you can’t be honest, ask a friend…or a therapist. Or Jesus.

While I was realizing the dream of Sports Medicine that I would realize wasn’t my dream at all, I was a Resident Assistant. It seems funny that I hated my first RA, and yet I ended up in the profession. I naively believed (as many people who choose their careers) that I could make a difference in the lives of my fellow students, especially the ones that looked like me.

Before I became an RA I felt that these “students” had way too much power, didn’t understand what I was going through, weren’t helpful, didn’t listen, and planned stupid programs that me and my friends would never go to. Then I became an RA. I realized that indeed “we students” had a considerable amount of power, were trained to understand our residents and provide them resources, were super helpful – though not always the help our residents wanted, listened to every single thing because we had to write it in weekly reports and document it in incidents, and sometimes planned stupid programs because we were sometimes awful time managers. I had sooooo much power. Because I was trained, I knew the policies (law) and I was trusted by the University Staff to be able to identify and document violations. Sure there was due process and objectivity in the conduct process, but the documentation of an RA? It’s assumed as truth first. Let’s face it, it just is… And with that, potentially an innocent student could end up with a conduct record. A record that would remain part of that student’s educational records… A severe enough violation could even end up notated on a transcript. All starting from an RA incident report. And with all that power, came great responsibility.

In conversations I have with folks today about my career, this comes up. The “RA” Conversation. Because all these educated folks I hang out with has one of these stories. And, they are usually not as awesome as the stories I think my residents have about me. Actually, they are pretty terrible. There are a crap ton of really bad RAs out there. And it pains me to hear it, because I took pride in my job and advocated for my residents. I took their safety and security to heart, and did my best to make good decisions. But not every RA was like me. And not every police officer is like you Outliers.

When we have those conversations, I usually never respond in defense. Mostly because I was not there. I did not live in that building or on that floor. I have no idea how that RA was trained. Or if they cared about their free housing more than their residents. I don’t attempt to make their experience invalid because I was a good RA, and I knew plenty of other good RAs. That person’s experience as a resident is truth. And my work as an RA who was professional, supportive, advocating for my residents, and often exceeding expectations of my supervisors is truth. These two truths can co-exist. We’ve just uncovered the lie that so many choose to overlook.

The nation is hurting. Many people of color have a crisis of conscious every time they realize they "need" 911. Vigilante justice is frowned upon unless you’re Oliver McQueen #WeDontKnowHowToUseBowsAndArrows #WeWouldGladlyDoItOurselves, you know, and we really don’t know which 911 we’re going to get. Will it be one of you Outliers, or will it be Darren Wilson? Or perhaps the Denver Police Officer who stood in the 2-day-payday gap for the family with the autistic child? [the Black denver police officer, but law enforcer nonetheless…this tea is delicious]

These are proverbial straws that are breaking our backs, cutting off our air, and killing us in our sleep. Lives are being lost. While you’re busy defending your position, there are those laying their families to rest. Meanwhile, the persons responsible are allowed to testify in secret. These families bury those bodies with the knowledge that not only did the police fail them, a "grand" jury probably not of their peers failed them as well. If you cannot imagine what it is like to live like this, knowing what we know, how can you expect us to understand your life is like behind the shield? ...or empathize with you?

I’m not even sure how to end this,

……………..

I Gobbled My Time #TurkeyTrot #Race18Medal17

And if by gobbled one means that I gobbled everything on my plate in my own time, then yea…I gobbled my time. But, I’m thinking that’s not what they meant. Oh, okay.

Its Thanksgiving morning and I am dragging. Jesus be a fire burning in my bones…because I am COLD! Starting to remind me of that Do the Double madness. Why does it have to be so cold. This Is California!!!! *in my this is Sparta voice*

But I am out here for a great and super important reason. For two great and super important reasons, actually. #HalfMarathonInFeburary kick off run (JustBob) and #4in2014 with Angelica Rollerskates. When you’ve achieved your goal early, and there is more time, you fill that time with helping other people get to the finish. Because, lest you forget, there was a time when you were reaching for a goal, and they were there, helping you. I don’t finish, until we all finish. Which means you haven’t finished your #14in2014 at all.

START: I am so hungry. And I left my bottle of water on the counter. I am so sleepy Jesus! I didn’t even cook the full Thanksgiving meal and I am so tired. This can’t be right.

Mile 1: Crap! I started playing the wrong playlist!!! I’m all off my game this morning… This waistband holder thing is awesome. It actually feels weird not running with stuff in my hands. Why did I wait so long to get one of these?!?!

Mile 2: Okay, let’s get it. Get your head back in the game. There are still more medals to be won. Still more running to do. Still more pavement to pound. You want that sweet potato pie, dontcha? Yea… Well act like it! Run dammit! Okayee…*sniffles*

Lady to her son: I’ve got a credit card if you can find us an open Coffee Shop! Do you see one?

Me: Wait, what? She is soooo serious tho. This little boy is hella strung out on caffeine.

Mile 3: You know, there was a 5K option for today. Just saying. You could be heading home and closer to eating Thanksgiving Dinner, you know. Oh, no. You’re not about that life. You want to overachieve and whatnot. This is fun…going above and beyond your own limits. Oh, um…just hungry…checking, I mean, just checking. My feet like, hurt… What’s up with these shoes tho?

Mile 4: Mimosa Station. Are they making mimosas for runners? This by far is the GREATEST run in the history of running. I love the City of San Jose.

Mile 5: Maybe a mimosa wasn’t the best thing on an empty stomach. Maybe. Well, empty save the jelly belly energy beans I only ate because I was hungry. Been in this waist belt since Las Vegas. Tasty. You know, that was actually a really good idea! You’re so smart. Pat yourself on the back!

Mile 6: Yea, the mimosa was a bad idea. Um, like a really awful one. I, Hurt.

Mile (6)0.2: That was the fastest 0.2 miles in my life! You mean I’m finished?! You mean I actually saw the finished line and crossed it before I coughed out a lung? You mean to tell me I might have actually taking a good finish line picture?! This. Is. Amazing!

FINISH: Yes, I think I am going to eat every sweet potato pie I see. I think it, before I am *eating all the pies*. My feet hurt. *looks down at shoes*

The San Jose Turkey Trot was awesome! Aside from the cold and the unorganized starting coral for the 8 – 9 mile runners, it was fantastic! A great course through downtown. Through it did not have the crowd fanfare as most running events do, I enjoyed the quiet. The sounds of runners. The children dragging their parents at Mile 1…and parents dragging their children at Mile 5.

Palmer College of Chiropractic. Yea, I didn't try to explain this.

I started the event with Soccer Dad JustBob. He had a hundred thousand questions, wonders, statements, anxieties, observations… Just everything. And I? I was so calm. So “all-knowing” as it seemed. So ready to just get it on. I imagine I was just like him those first few running events. But too many have passed that I can’t remember any of it. I’ve done just enough to be settled. I am incredibly thankful that people run “with” me. That they trust me, no matter how crazy it sounds or feels to them.

I finished the event with Angelica Rollerskates. I patiently waited for her to finish #Race3Medal3 of her #4in2014 so that we could take a picture…so we know it’s real. I waited in the photo line for her to pick up her medal and find me. While I was there, I noticed these two older black women running who wanted to take a photo. They got a little discouraged when they saw the line. So, I casually C’d my way into their A & B conversation and invited them to join the line with me. I’m thankful for the looks on their faces as they posed for their pictures. I hope, when I reach those years, I’ll be side by side with my friend, as I am on this day, still running, still taking pictures, hair still wrapped up.

A girl can dream.

This Race: Applied Materials Silicon Valley Turkey Trot, 10K, San Jose CA
Medaled Miles to date: 99.17 miles

Total Raced Miles to date: 122.27 miles 

-3 Medals To Go ǁ 121% Complete

(Challenge Medal 4, 21 Medals ǁ 150% Complete)

It’s Thanksgiving Season Yall #30DaysOfGratitude

So, it was Pearl’s idea to bring back #30DaysOfGratitude. You know, taking time out of your day to post something you are thankful for. No matter how big or small. Just getting outside of your stuff, to think about your life through a critical, thankful lens. So often we get so busy with our day, our life, our family, our issues, that we forget to remember that those are usually the places where our most profound gratitude is located.

That’s exactly where I found much of my gratitude this month. Especially that first two weeks. Baby Pey remembering who I am?! OMG. Nothing like it. She was a minion for Halloween, so I bought a pack of minion Mike & Ike’s for her trick-or-treat pail. AWB text me this month and said that she walks around the house shaking them, and saying my name. Being remembered? – gratitude. Realizing that my capacity to love is much more than I could have imagined? – indebted to Baby Pey forever.

I survived Rock n Roll Las Vegas this year…even with the double running! Though the original travel plan and group didn’t work out as planned, I had an amazing time with my friends, made new ones, and got to meet a living legend. I was inspired by every moment of solitude as I laid me down to rest at night…or morning…or whatever time it was. And woke up ready for the world.

I continue to remain challenged by the awesomely difficult career path I’ve chosen. But unlike any other tactic I have used to meet these challenges where they are, I have learned the power of my silence (when used strategically). I embrace it. I have lost nothing in my silence. I have, however, gained peace of mind like none other.

Of course, there were many other moments of gratitude…like My Uncle changing his clothes after a long day of work, fighting through traffic to the auto parts store, and fixing my blinker light thingie on the car. Milk for cereal. Pops! 2 dollar bills. Angelica Rollerskates & E-boogie’s born day celebrations. Halloween candy being 90% off at CVS. Bacon being a “free” add on item to my grilled cheese sandwich. My bed. Kindness. Mail. Poetry…of course I am always thankful for words #ItCameFromConcrete #ItsTenacity #ItsWillToReachTheSun. And lest we not forget, red wine. It helped me get through when Shonda Rhimes came for every single one of my edges like Sallie Mae does my loan payments with those season finales! #FatherGodBeAnEdgesHairPlugReplacement

But then something happened. The verdict came in. Or, the non verdict came in about Michael Brown. And I got so sad. I was detached from my gratitude like Avatar Korra and her past Avatar lives. I couldn’t sense gratitude and thankful feelings because the City of Ferguson was burning…like the hope in my heart. As social media so eloquently posted, retweeted and instragrammed… What kind of world is this, where we KNOW a man will get away for murder? And why am I thankful for it?

It would have been disingenuous of me to not mark this moment to you. At least to those of you reading this here blog. Up until this point, I’ve been making straight A’s, right? Setting the bar high and soaring over it in a leer jet. But since that day, it took a while for me to get back to it…to tell the world what moment made me realize gratitude. And it was a heartfelt memory from my childhood, being played out the night before Thanksgiving. As I sat with my bowl of dark chocolate cheerios and last bit of milk, I was so thankful. For memory, for family, for MY cereal bowl, the warmth of this apartment, and to be filled. I have a day without hunger. To have a meal that really and truly satisfied my being. There are people in the world right now longing for a feeling that just came to me. Without having done nothing but lived long enough to experience it.

That next day, Thanksgiving Day, I ran a 10K. Not a PR by any stretch, but an amazing moment to see JustBob take off and complete his (probably) fastest 10K ever. He’s had to endure so many #MedalMondays of mine that he’s going to have a couple of his own. And the first one, we will share together. Thankful. As I walked the finish line area, I awaited Angelia Rollerskates as she completed the 3^rd running event of her #4in2014. I could not have been more proud to take our #MedalRunDay pictures with our hair wrapped up. Thankful.

I cleaned up, cooked up, and high-tailed it to the Juke Joint to spend Thanksgiving Day with my family. The womenfolk prepared everything in the kitchen while the kids (anyone under 18 and/or dependent in whatever way to an adult for their daily existence) did the dishes, cleaned up around us, and basically, indentured servants. We all held hands and shoulders in the kitchen as the sounds of the football and basketball games played in the background. And, when the youngest grown up male in the circle was asked to bless the bountiful dinner, we bowed our heads and closed our eyes. He began… Jesus Wept. And ended. Hella Hungry. And kinda thankful? Yes, he had to do the prayer over… It wasn’t much longer the second time. But it did include more nouns, verbs and adjectives.

That night, after I salivated over the spoils of multiple Thanksgiving Meals in various homes around the Bay Area, I got a text from JustBob wanting to know IF I wanted him to stop by with a slice of his sweet potato pie, because apparently, one needs permission to being ME pie. Oh, okay. #nomnomnom Um, I mean, thankful.

Even in my failure. I still...gotta say..Thank You.

I haven’t posted since milk for cereal. Not because I’m not back, or I don’t feel any more thankfulness inside of me. It’s there as it always has been. I’m just stretching myself. I am learning what it feels like to fail, no matter how small…because aside from relationships, I do not fail. The old me would have pulled out a calendar and thought back to each to do remember what I was thankful for, to post it…to catch up. But the new me? I’m going to sit with this…and find the gratitude in it.

About Las Vegas… #Race17Medal16 #redemption #ChallengeMedal4

Redemption time. Time to get it. Go after greatness. Pull up my camo running pants, take photos in a tutu, get to my corral, and make history. Third time is the charm.

But it’s hella cold tho. I mean, like really. And I’m in like one of these hella late corrals… I’m going to be here a while, waiting, in the cold. I mean, she hype as hell on the mic, but it looks like it’s warmer on that stage than it is out here on this dusty pavement. I shoulda took a bathrobe from the hotel. #NBMA

Plans to meet Rikki before the race turned into plans to meet her exactly before we were ready to get in our Corrals. But, that didn't stop us from taking that picture in our tutus. You would not believe how anxious I was...about wearing a tutu. Not about the 13.1 miles. Or the fact that I had been getting it in the past few days Vegas style. No...a glittery tutu has me clicking my heels wishing that I was someplace else, and not in these camo running pants. And she was so gracious. I had to take a picture in it, because I promised, but she let me take it off for the run. I owe her big. Like my butt. That looked pretty damn big in the tutu...and kinda the same size in the camo running pants... #message

Okay, decisions, decisions. To stop at Mile 1 and take a photo at the Welcome To Las Vegas sign or not. I mean, I have one from last year. Well, I don’t “have” one. MarathonFoto has one. I mean, they keep it on their servers, but it’s a picture of me, so it’s like both ours. Anyway, I digress. Okay, I’m not gonna do it. I’m going to run this race as fast as I can. I got this… PR time…

*minutes later*

F*** that. I’m too cute to be passing up picture opportunities. Let me work on my pose and smile since I got all this time before my corral starts. *takes a selfie*

Start Line: I’m not taking a picture at that damn sign. It’s too cold. Just finish the race and be great already. Damn. Please?

Mile 1: Like seriously, it’s cold as a mutha out here. Who pissed Mother Nature off? I can feel each of my fingers. I think they hate me more than my feet will when I put those heels on after this… #ItsVegas *sees people taking the pictures at the sign but keeps running*

          I have no will power. I’m next.

Mile 2: I actually feel good. Like really good. I think this might be a good run. Sure I totally f’d up any hope of a PR with that 5 minute photo shoot. And, maybe it was a bit much to ask that lady to take a picture of me from her camera and text it to me. Point is, I’m the most fabulous person you know. And runners are hella nice. And her camera was better than mine in that moment. #MySmartAssPhoneWontLetMeBeGreat

Mile 3: Are. They. Giving. People. Beers? As in, beer from the finish line side of Las Vegas Boulevard. As in, people who are only 3 miles into the race. And, you’re not going over there to get one because, why?

Mile 4: My hands feel like they are made of adamantium. I just cut my tongue trying to pop one of these Jelly Belly energy beans. Man…that means Wolverine probably can’t eat finger foods when he’s mad. That sucks.

Mile 5: Wait, why am I running in Las Vegas? Because it’s fun? Oh, okay. Just checking. I mean, I didn’t get that from what I was doing right now, but if you say so. However, the fact that this air is so fresh and so clean, I’m only like 75% upset that I’m out here freezing. Like seriously…people still smoke? How is that even legal?

Mile 6: This is when the strip gets interesting…I wonder how much I could pawn my common sense for? It’s not like I use it ever. I mean, current situation…

Mile 7: I want some french fries. From McDonalds. Man it’s cold. Maybe Riki was on to something with that whole tutu thing. I’m f’n freezing! Mother Nature hates every part of me.

Mile 8: I think I need to use the bathroom. I’m not going in those porta potties though. Those things are fckin disgusting. *pace gets slower and slower* Okay, I mean, they aren’t so bad. It’s not like I don’t have this lovely hand sanitizer with me. I mean…they brought them all the way out here for us, so I should maybe use one. *peed so long I almost missed The Return of the King*

Mile 9: Yoooooo I’m like fckin speed racer tho. Where did I get all this energy from? I mean, I literally cannot see anyone’s face because I am moving at the speed of light! Yasssssss running!

Mile 10: I wonder what this gu would take like spread on crackers? Or apple slices for that matter. Imma try that. I bet it’s hella good. You’re welcome life. You are welcome for that.

Mile 11: I know what, if this lady runs in front of one of my epic race picture faces one more time…I swear fo’Lord she ain’t crossing the finish line with her shoe laces. Yea, I’m petty. So what.

Mile 12: Wow. These people next to me have run 20+ miles in the time it took me to run 10+ miles. That’s pretty amazing. I am also running very slow. I am actually Speed Racer’s alter ego…

Mile 13: You know, it’s just cold enough for me to perfect my Kappa shimmy. *begins to shiver/shimmy uncontrollably to the music…on beat ‘cause I’m fancy* Where Cori at??? #Yassss #UCA #StadiumParkShenanigans

Mile 13 (0.1): Pictures are stupid. Why are you trying to take a picture of me when you should be handing me a martini? I’m not smiling for you. I’m not here for that.

Finish: My medal please. Thank you very much. Now excuse me, they’re waiting for my photo shoot. Hair and make-up!! *snap*snap* Let’s make this happen! I’m on a schedule.

Man, and believe me, there was a photo shoot. Like literally every photographer that works for Marathonfoto was there. I just wanted to take a picture Jesus, and get some chocolate milk. But it took forever to get past that part! But when I did, I drank that chocolate milk like it was Sunday morning and I was sitting in front of the TV watching cartoons trying to not get ready for church. Yupppp Thundercats… And then I went back for another one.

Things got bad though when I got to the banana station. I reach for a banana and was like, that’s weird because it was super soft. So I figured that particular banana had been out in the casino gambling and things didn’t turn out so great so I reached for another. But they were all the same. Now, I have had nothing but WONDERFUL things to say about RnRLV despite not getting a medal the first time #NeverLettingThatGo but that? That offense? That crime should be punishable by shin splints! I NEED MY POTASSIUM SIR! Those bananas felt like pudding on the inside! Who puts the pudding inside the banana? I can’t deal Jesus. I’m trying to stay near the cross Lord.

And I realized that I had all the time in the world to have that thought completely because I was still in the medical tent area. When will this ever end? I just wanna get my remix medal and get some eat. You can’t open things very well with adamantium hands. They aren’t that flexible. And my feet are giving me their 30 minutes’ notice. So I have to move with a purpose.

When I got back to my room, I looked down at my race bib and my medals. I ran a second race with those 3 words…sweet and simple. Run to Win. Those were the words Meb placed on my race bib yesterday. We all run to win. But what are we winning? Certainly not these race medals; we pay for these…its part of the fees. And if you don’t come in first, technically, you lost, right?

Well, technically yes…but technically no. What does it mean to “win”… What will it take to impress the critics? How many impossible things can I make into blog posts? We’ve often associated this word with being the first one to cross the finish line. That was my mistake entering into this #14in2014. I had a goal. I had a plan. I knew what I wanted to do. But, I never defined the word. And after every single medal, I was closer to a goal, and farther away from that feeling. From feeling like I won. Like I did it. I spent the whole year going after a goal, because that’s what Mr. 20D says I do.

I did not create the rubric for what it means to win. I won’t make that mistake in 2015.

I’ll define it. And I’ll do it. …and I kinda want my tutu back.

This Race: Rock N Roll Las Vegas #StripAtNight, Half Marathon, Las Vegas NV
Medaled Miles to date: 92.97 miles

Total Raced Miles to date: 116.07 miles 

-2 Medals To Go ǁ 114% Complete

(Challenge Medal 4, 20 Medals ǁ 143% Complete)