I'm Only Half Crazy #FinishItJesus #26.2Left #1%Club

As I look at all the amazing finisher photos on this #MedalMonday, I am really inspired by all of the Chitown Runners! They did their thing! Congratulations Runners!! #IwishIOwnedChiTown #IWantAMedalToo #butIWannaEarnIt #CantIJustBeGreatLikeThemJesus

I’m not like them at all. The most I can do in this moment is be proud of them, like I am my Uglee (it's a long story, she earned that name)! Yall don’t know, but the only reason I’ve made it this far running is her anticipating all of my needs as a fledging half-marathoner. She makes sure I get all the encouragement I need before race day, after race day, and in the right shoes. And she's already done this! She is a marathoner. And she treats my 10K medals like superbowl rings! You'd think I did something more amazing, but for her, it is. I owe many a weary mile to her. It’s like she’s clairvoyant or something. She knows I’m going to finish before I even start. Crazy, right?

So, I guess I’m kinda like them. Marathoners. Let my friends tell it, I have run a marathon. See, I ran a half marathon in June, then I ran one this October. So basically…….math. But since I’m kinda like them, I know there is a HUGE difference between running a half marathon, and sacrificing your life for that other 13.1. I mean, you've got to prove yourself on the pavement to be a 1%'er. I wanna get in the club. I wanna hang out with Uglee in there!!!

I go back and forth between committing to such an endeavor. I mean, I’ve done enough half-marathons to the point of suggesting we do one, is like asking if I would like to go to Happy Hour… I’m like Tank, when?? But a full marathon… You mean, 26.2 consecutive miles? On the same day? I mean, do I get the whole 24 hours to get them in? Or nah?

I’m scared, yo. S C A R E D.

But the homey Alicia Keykey signed up for her first marathon (for 2015)…which kind of makes this challenge more real, because we’re homeys. We ride together…to Old Navy Sales…and will die one day together, because we eat inordinate amounts of bacon, with bottomless mimosas, cause you gotta drink your fruit (with champagne)! So I mean, I gotta be there. I flew from Virginia to California just to run with her. It’s serious. The running blood goes deep.

But I’m not registered yet. I was close to clicking “submit”…then I read this:

As I sit resting up to handle this ‪#‎ChicagoMarathon in the morning, I wanted to share the hilarity of the chronicles of my last marathon in Anchorage Alaska. Enjoy.

A truly... Truly unique experience. First Alaska is a stunningly beautiful state from the little I've seen thus far so if you can swing it, put it on your bucket lists of places to visit. Now... About that run... Chronicles:

1.) 8am start and the rain is torrential. At least when I start slowly peeing myself around mile 9... No one will notice.

2.) Mile 5'ish. There's a dude running this marathon in sandals... Personal challenge set... He will not beat me.

3.) Mile 8'ish. A kid maybe about 14 wizzes by me. Personal challenge set... If I see him again I will throw a rock at him.

4.) Around the half marathon point... The race has become a narrow trail run and we are running in the freakin woods through mud and rain. I don't remember this being on the brochure. Alaska is stupid.

5.) Mile 19'ish... Runners are stopped on the trail. There is a freaking moose blocking the trail.. A FREAKING MOOSE!!!

6.) Mile 19'ish. The moose isn't moving. Yah... Get out the way!... Shoo moose shoo! One guy is not happy. The moose is unamused... Not budging.

7.) Moose still chillin... Its been at least 10 minutes. The kid will not be the one to tempt the moose. Same guy suggest throwing a rock. I set up to run in the opposite direction if he does.

8.) I'm hurting right now anyway... Maybe if I lay on the trail the moose will trample me and put me out of my misery... The runners stopped are now about 30 deep.

9.) Moose finally saunters off the trail to the right... Runners slooooowly walk past him.

10.) Mile 21 - 22. Sandals guy passes me... Oh hell no...! I speed up.

11.) 1/2 mile later... Sandal guy passes me again... Eff him and his sandals... I got nothing... My legs are weary.

12.) Mile 24... Legs feel like they are detached from hips. Alaska is stupid... This is stupid.

13.) Mile 26.2... Finished... That was great... Alaska is awesome... I'll take 88 orange slices, 12 cookies, a gallon of Powerade, and that whole loaf of cinnamon raisin bread please.

14.) Chicago 2014... You're next.

Marshall “Squill” Miles

Dude was prepared to go toe-to-toe with a moose… IN ALASKA! I mean, how can I do a marathon?? I’m afraid of my Uncle’s dog and you mean to tell me we gotta fight the wilderness creatures for medals?!?! Fix it Jesus!! Hold my mule and the moose! Okay, he wasn’t prepared to take on the moose, but that dude in the sandals liked to go dealt with by my man. And then, AND THEN, he insults my injury by showing up and showing out in ChiTown! This guy… He’s funny… I like him…

I saw the New York City Marathon in action, on accident. The homeys and I were enjoying brunch in one of the NY boroughs when we noticed that the streets were blocked off, and people were running…and other people were cheering…and everyone seemed to be okay with this. In my experience, people running and police blockades aren’t exactly happy events. But when it’s the NYC Marathon, every single person is cheering every other person on. It’s hard to be mad when you’re there to witness something like that.

That next Monday, we saw people walking around Manhattan with medals around their necks. I knew that I would get my chance one day. Then I googled NYC Marathon, and saw the race map and mileage. And I thought, maybe someone will let me take a picture with their medal. Yea, that. Do THAT.

That day has stayed with me since. I want to get to that place where I schlep my God given life, and the thing that contains it, 26.2 miles. I should believe in my legend more than I do. I mean, 10 years ago, I couldn’t convert a 5K to miles, let alone sweat. If you asked me what it was, I probably would have said, money. Yet, in 2011, I stood at the starting line of my first half marathon, with the bestest friend a black girl runnin’ could ever have. He smiled at me, and told me that my ride home was waiting at the finish. And leaving Las Vegas without a medal that year did not stop me from going back again.

I have completed 13 races of my #14in2014 this year, and the thought of a full marathon, though exciting, scares me. The moose does too. I’m not sure what it is (not the moose…got that...afraid of that) keeping me from my eternal running glory…but I pray I live long enough to figure it out.

Thank you, Marshall for letting me share the hilarity that was your Alaska Running experience! And...congratulations for taking down the city of Chicago at the Marathon this very weekend! 

Did you think his #Chronicles were funny/awesome/inspirational/[insert your word here] too?! Hit him up! m.kendrick.miles@gmail.com

Fantastic = Foolish: Running The Difference...

…because most of these posts begin because of conversations, huh?

          Person: So, what do you have planned this weekend?

          Me: Oh, just gonna run a 10K with a friend.

         Person: I don’t understand? Running seems so tough. But you seem happy about it.

          Me: It is. Quite frankly, running sucks. But, Medal Monday.

          Person: *confused*

          Me: I know. Me too.

It never fails. After every race, I really feel like I won. lol

Me too. I do not get it. I do not get why I will leave Church, feeling all saved, sanctified and submerged in the blood of the lamb that was slain, to change clothes in my car, to run The Dish.  It does not make much sense. And I do it willingly. With a smile on my face. Knowing that I am going to get a mile and a half into it and, look at my life and my choices, wishing my sassy gay friend had convinced me to go to the Mall; the outdoor Mall literally right down the street from this place. And, I will continue on, to the finish. Another day closer to another medal. And be satisfied.

Just like the aforementioned person with which I shared my weekend excitement, there are those, like um…unbelievers who will not understand the joy on my face at the opportunity to worship and praise when I hear a song about wanting to worship God, for the actual literal fear that a rock might cry out in my place. #NotHappenin #ImCompelledToTellYouDyingMenSomething Much like I have no shame in telling you about how much I love Jesus, I feel no shame in the smile on my face when I am regaling this world with tales of my latest medal and upcoming running event. #Oakland #RunLikeHellaWithMe

And if you are not a runner, you will never comprehend the look on a runner's face when you say you purchased your running shoes at the Mall and not from a running store after a proper sizing. And if you are a non believer, you will never understand why a believer hastens to their secret place to Thank God when all seems to be right in their world. And it shouldn’t. ¹⁸For the preaching of the cross is to them that perish foolishness; but unto us which are saved it is the power of God. #ICorinthians1

So you get a pass. I used to get one. I wasn’t always a believer. Or a believer that I could be a runner. Hell, or ever a writer?!

Like the first day I showed up at The Dish with T.M.A. She invited me to walk it with her after work one day. Graciously, she met me at the Palo Alto Caltrain Station, and fought through traffic #thankyougurl to get to this place where we would walk our troubles away.

As I made my way through the gate, I thought to myself, “Um...where is this dish thingie she was talking about? ...and why is this steep ass incline in the way of it?” But, I was a stranger wandering a foreign land, so I followed her lead. TMA was a Dish’r, and I was not. I had no idea why anyone in their right mind would want to walk up that thing, with no sign of a “dish” in site.

There is a long, steep, hard, paved path to the top. The path is marked with trees, squirrels and coyote warnings. You will hate your life and your choices along the way. You will curse the crazy day that left you no other recourse than to pound the inclining and declining pavement. Endure. Press on to that mark, for the prize – what awaits you at the top. The beauty of Palo Alto and every other thing there is to see from that place. Have you ever been to the top of The Dish? You can see the sky touch the top of a mountain while the wind blows the most healing breeze. The traffic of I-280 even looks majestic from that place. There are those who will never be able to gain admittance to grandeur that is Stanford University. But from the Dish, you can see it for what it is – a small plot of land surrounded by an entire world to experience. And all Dish’rs know this. And because they know this, they suffer – because it is worth it. “It’s soooo worth it.”

That is what I feel at the Start of every race. The pain, soreness, exhaustion, eventual dehydration that lies between that place and the Finish. The fear of potential injury. The desperation of wanting to be faster than I was the last time. The doubt that I "might don’t" make it. But I know what it feels like to finish. To get that medal, place it around my neck, and realize that yet when the road seemed too much to endure, I did it.  

It’s totally okay that you’re confused. I’m going to keep running, and asking you to take #MedalMonday pictures with me. You'll figure it out, eventually. And what was once Foolish, will begin to equal the most Fantastic thing you ever did. Like trying Jesus. . . 

Running Is Madness #WeRunAnyway

From time to time we'll pass the pen in this piece because I can't do all this writing and running by myself. Hell, I'm not doing all this running by myself! #RunLikeHella #OaklandMarathonRelay #Leg2... Anyway, here's one of my favorite people to rock, run, poorty, pass out and shenanigan with, my homey-running-friend...EBoogie aka Alicia Keykey aka...or actually, kbtgasma (known by the government and sallie mae as) Erin Hamer... Let's have it homey!

Why do bad things happen to good people? I pay my tithes, I assist patients on dialysis, and I eat my vegetables (and makes Lee eat them too)! So when last year’s California International Marathon, better known as the “CIM” rolled around, I expected nothing but greatness! I mean, this was my 3rd year running it in a row. Every year has been great; this year should be no different, right? WRONG. Dead WRONG.

Let me educate you: The CIM is a marathon almost as old as me. It’s been a favorite of all runners since its first race on December 4, 1983. Crazy participants may choose to over exert themselves and run the entire 26.2 miles on their own while others (who have sense #likeus) sign up for the reasonable relay challenge.  The relay challenge allows you and 3 other under achievers (lol!) to divide the 26.2 into 4 parts thus making the marathon more manageable. My friends and I signed up for the race and I was given the 3rd leg which was 7 miles. 

So... I complete my 7 miles like a pro...it’s nothing. It’s a lifestyle. I pass the timing leg strap to my girl so she can bring it home with the last leg and I search for my husband to get a lift to the finish line (and a mimosa). After about 45 minutes of walking the streets of Sacramento, I realize “it’s” happening. Yes, I’m unable to use my mobile phone due to a battery that keeps going dead. Yes, there’s no way I’m going to get to my husband because of all the barricades. And finally YES, I’m going to have to run the rest of this race in order to stay warm and get to my people thus making me run an additional 6 miles! My face at this epiphany...

After this horrid experience, it led me to join a conversation with other runners who shared their experiences where they too had this face. I’ve collected a few of my favorites for your reading pleasure.

How much is Lee's life insurance policy again? #HisDaysAreNumbered

THAT LOOK ON A RUNNER’S FACE WHEN...

·        ...someone who doesn’t run tells you that your times are slow. (exactly)

·         ...your mom (or that girl from that dumb @$$ show) says, “Let’s do a marathon!” but really means a 5k. (#icant with yall!)

·         ...your Nike Fuel Band didn’t register 1/2 of your marathon time...sigh

·        ...a teen or inexperienced volunteer says, “You’re almost there honey” and you’re only at mile 6 of a half marathon. (I always cry real tears here)

·        ...an onlooker reads my hat and says “Black Girls Run”?? and laughs hysterically.

·        ...the person running beside you shoots out a big snot rocket.

·        ...they move the finish line and you swore you just saw it! Delirious!

·        ...you check your bank statement/credit card and see that you spent more on race fees than groceries for the month. (#MyEntireBankingLife)

·        ...there’s a 10 deep line for the only porta potty on the route.

·        ...you see the volunteers mixing the Gatorade with their hands.

·         ...you train for a simple 5k, arrive to the race and discover it’s a 10 mile trail run. (the swindle)

·        ...you finish the 13 and realize you still have the 0.1 to go. (I've actually thought about stopping at this point)

And finally, for our awesome Blogger-In-Chief, Nateezy (fo sheezy, a.k.a. Beyonté)...

·        When there’s no medal for a run! Say what?!!! (Vegas 2011... #neverforget)

Despite all of the shenanigans, I love to run. Running is a mental sport...and we’re all insane!

Found Myself In The Exit Row

The last time I was on a plane headed to Atlanta, I was told by the man I had not been talking to the entire time that I had a great personality #EarHustlin. But that (like everything else) is just another, other, otha post, that I already wrote. Eventually I’ll post it.

I am Atlanta bound again. Actually, I have not been Atlanta bound since the last time I was Atlanta bounded with personality. Another pit stop today, on my way to some old me I’d like I to know again. And tonight, I am seated next to a man. And we have been chatting it up.

He was, or seemed, rather surprised by my handshake. I pulled ole boy at the introduction #GeishaFlow. Too bad he got me first though. Dragging my overstuffed purple DVF bag to my exit row seat that did not recline, he immediately sprung up, collected my suitcase, and through the magic of astrophysics and chivalry made room for it in the overhead compartment.

One day I'll write my life & maybe save it in the process

I did not even know his name. Just his seat number. But we are totally friends now. He is clearly a gentleman, and I’ve got an impressive handshake. I guess people don’t do that anymore. Shake hands. Did I live long enough to become old school? Damn.

Anyway. He’s married. Two kids – boys. A career that keeps him on the go, and the kindest disposition ever. Kind. I met a very kind man. It has been a while since that too.

And I kinda thought he was meeting me. But as the conversation continued, I wondered if maybe this was that next lifetime Erykah assured me we’d be flying around in. You know, the one where we would be exit row buddies? I mean, he knows me. Like really. Knows. Me. Eeek!!!!

20D: Your five year goal is to become a writer. You’re going to be famous one day. A New York Bestseller!

Me: *he’s been drinkin...been drinkin* Now that’s a dream… But I’m not sure. All of the great writers I’ve read in my time?! I don’t know about that one.

20D: The really great writers all believed that about themselves at one point. #healthyhumility

                                    *conversation continues*

Me: I just want to be happy…I mean, I want to be successful, and achieve great things, but having a family and being happy is enough. More than enough.

           

20D: That’s a great title for a book. You should write one.

Me: I kinda did, actually…you know, write a book. If I ever try again, that’ll be the title. Something tells me I will always remember this day, this moment. #AWomanOfMyWord  #RichardDavis

           

20D: And I’ll remember you. I’ll say, I met her.

Maybe he should say that he inspired her. Or motivated her. Or pushed her? Challenged? Encouraged? Yea, he did that too. Just get a thesaurus and check mark them all.

He did that. He also said this:

1. You are sharp.
2. You don’t sleep much. Your mind is always working, always going.
3. You have trouble meeting men and making connections. You’re an eagle. Don’t cluck.
4. You set goals and HAVE to achieve them. You don’t see anything else. 
5. You will be a famous writer one day.

Even in the presence of #3, #5 stings the most. Mostly because of what he said next. Burnt me. He said, “You’re not worried that you’ll fail, you’re afraid you’ll succeed.” Get that thesaurus back out because I’m terrified and a whole host of other adjectives.

It burns because I want it sooooo bad. Problem being, I’m not “sooooo good” yet. What’s holding me back besides me? Nothing really. *excuse alert* it’s just that I have read so many great writers, great writers, who are exceptional thinkers. You have to be what they’ve been to me. I don’t know that I do what they do. They have written words, in the same sentences, that have caused a physiological reaction in my ocular cavities. I had to fill them with klennex. Words printed on a page that moved me to travel miles to mend relationships I didn’t even break. I don’t do that. I don’t write that way. I don’t know how.

My truth isn’t that compelling. Is it?

And just when I had myself convinced that I was a writer, I kinda stopped believing. Journey is going to be sooooo pissed at me.

But I kinda have to believe him. This man read me. Read. Me. Right. He’s turning 49 this year. He’s a runner. He’s got a race coming up. Six minutes stand between him and his eternal glory – finishing under an hour. He’s going to pound a hole so hard in the pavement at the finish line, they’ll have to repave the whole state of Georgia. I always believe (in) runners.

In order to continue believing I’m a writer, here’s what 20D says I have to do:

1. Stop Clucking. Mostly because Eagles don’t cluck. Leave the chicken at Popeye’s honey chile (keep that strawberry soda! lawd, it's everything!). Have a little more faith. Your “somebody’s son” is on the way. He probably runs too. Like wants to run, with you.

  

    2. Success Is A Silly Fear. Be Brave Fool! Hold up. Is he about to tell me what TR is always saying? #DoItAfraid. Yup. He is. Write a book. A for real one. And stop calling the real one you wrote “kinda”. Get over it. Embrace it. You wrote a book. Now that I’ve typed this, success does sound like a dumb thing to be afraid of. #ugh

    3. Cute & Attractive Are 2 VERY Different Things. Multitask! You are both. So you need to be both. And more than that, you need to know the difference. Despite what you have been told and read, they are not the same. You need to stop making these words interchangeable. The thesaurus you are using is outdated.

And then we left.

:::::::::: just a lingering thought (they do that often, linger)::::::::::

Talkin’ Chess… 20D and I, as you know, talked about me having a male best friend. He asked if we had ever considered each other. I told him the truth. No. Nope, not even that one time we were drunk (not really a time…just an expression)… I needed a best friend. I’ll just be here waiting for a (best) lover. He said he couldn’t have a female best friend. Cause men hunt. That made me think of someone #RLS in particular I wanted more than a friendship with. I am not sure if there is still hope. Probably not. Chess, maybe? #whomovesfirst