My Mom the Marathoner

It was the perfect day to be in Hartford, Connecticut on October 11, 2008. Cool, crisp weather, a bright blue sky looking down on a town surrounded by brightly colored trees in all shades of gold, red, and orange. It was a wonderful day to be alive. Yet, as I look back on this day, it wasn’t the beauty that made it such an amazing day. What made this day special was that Mom and I spent it running a marathon together. And not just any marathon. The completion of this marathon was not merely the completion of another 26.2 miles, but the completion of 26.2 miles run for the 55^th time in Mom’s 50^th state. On this lovely October day my mom, Erin McGuire, obtained her goal to run a marathon in all 50 States of the United States of America.

She began this journey a long time ago. After running a few 5Ks, a few 10Ks, a few half-marathons – the next logical step was to try a marathon. In January of 1994, she ran the Inaugural Disney World Marathon and upon her completion she decided she would never run another one. A man sitting nearby assured Mom that she would in fact run another marathon. Mom looked at him as if he were insane and stated once again that she would NEVER run another marathon. After arguing this point for a few minutes she finally asked this man when, exactly she would decide to run another one. His response was, “tomorrow.”

Sure enough, as we were walking around Disney World she looked to Dad and said, “You know, I’d like to try and see if I can run a marathon without getting so many blisters on my feet.” Dad reminded her of her conversation the previous day… and it began.

Anyone who knows my mom knows she doesn’t do anything half-way. She doesn’t quit what she starts. Ever. Growing up excuses were jokes and we were not allowed to make any for our behavior. Our word was our bond and if we said we’d do something, we had to follow through.

And so when Mom decided to run a marathon in every state, I had no doubt that it would come to fruition. And I am so very glad it did. All it took was a few finish lines, and after standing there waiting for Mom and watching the runners complete what was an unfathomable distance to me, I wondered if I could do it too.

And so my own journey began. At the age of 15 I was running 10 miles, and at the age of 16 I tried my first half-marathon. It was misery, but I did another one anyway. I traveled with Mom all over the place running the half when she ran the whole until one day I decided to try the whole myself. Mom helped me get there and in 2003 she and I ran our first marathon together in Los Angeles.

My first marathon was not as bad as Mom’s first marathon, but it certainly wasn’t what I’d call fun. I can’t remember much about it now, but I remember wishing Mom didn’t look so energetic, that she’d stop singing and laughing and talking with everyone we came across. But that was Mom and she encouraged countless runners that day – and so many other days.

A few years and a few marathons later, I began to pay attention to my marathon time. Slowly I began to chisel away at it, trying each time to get a few minutes off here and there. What started somewhere in the 5:20s made its way to under 5 hours and then under 4:45. Mom paced me for most of these, helping me hold my course for the goals I’d set.

We have so many wonderful memories. I remember laughing on airplanes, getting lost in downtown areas while looking for post-marathon ice cream. I remember all the interesting people we met along the way, and all the training runs where we talked and talked and talked so that our tongues were just as tired as our legs.

A special bond formed through all of this time spent running together. When running, I had Mom all to myself and I knew I could talk to her about anything. We talked about men and jobs and friends and money and God and life. I soaked up her wisdom and life experience, and was some how able to take it when she told me the unpleasant truth about this or that.

In the last two years I met a man named Jason Reneau who is also a runner. Picking up where Mom left off, he showed me new strategies and approaches to running and I have continued to improve in not only my marathon, but in smaller races as well. Last year I married this man and we have begun filling our life together with our own running adventures and excursions.

Mom and I don’t run together as often as we used to, but we still make time for it almost every week. She only lives an hour away and so it is easy to fit in a run or two when I am there or she is here. We still talk about everything from marriage to politics to work to friends to God and life. I still soak up all the wisdom we can fit in a 5-10 mile run and our bond as mother and daughter continues to change and grow stronger.

When we ran together in Connecticut, I couldn’t help but remember how far we’d both come in our journeys as runners. In preparation for the race, Mom made two lists. One was of 26 people and one was of 26 scriptures. As we ran each mile, she pulled out her lists and talked of the person for whom she was running that mile and she quoted the scripture that went along with that mile as well. It seemed to make the miles more interesting as they not only got us closer to the finish line, but filled our minds with new memories and encouraging words.

Mom would say the name that went with the mile we were running and then tell me a little about each person. Most of the stories I already knew. I knew Aunt Donna had gotten Mom to run her first 5k. I knew Renee Whitton had talked Mom into running her first marathon. I knew several of the running buddies Mom has had over the years and the impact they’ve had on her own running career. She ran for Granny whose memory will always remain dear. She ran for Uncle Al who encouraged her along the way. She ran for Caroline and Caleb and for her precious first born, my sister Julie.

It was funny at times when she’d say something like, “This mile is for so and so. She doesn’t run anymore and she was always a strange bird, but she really encouraged me at times.”

Toward the end of the marathon I carried the lists and would prompt Mom with the name and the scripture. Around mile 24, the scripture was one that Mom and Julie had found in Proverbs that reads, “Go to the ant, you sluggard. Consider its ways and be wise.” So as we passed mile 24, I was slightly ahead and I looked back at Mom and yelled, “GO TO THE ANT…” and she quoted the rest. I’m sure the other runners around us wondered about that, but by mile 24 neither one of us really cared.

When she got to mile 26, she ran for me. As she told me what I meant to her and how much she loved me, I looked up and saw that we were about to go for a climb. I told Mom to tap into that because she was going to need it.

She, of course, ran up the hill with gusto and before we knew it we could see the big arches that stood above the finish line. In our usual fashion, we grabbed hands and threw our arms in the air. I whooped as we crossed that 50^th State finish line and we both reached down to stop our watches and walk on to find Dad, Gary, and the snacks.

Mom will, of course, continue to run races of all distances even though this goal has been completed. She will continue to inspire countless other runners and non-runners just by being who she is.

I will continue to run as well, and I will always be grateful that this amazing woman is my mom and that I got to be a part of the adventure as she ran across the United States of America.

The Short of It

Saturday, October 18, 2008 I ran a 5K. I do not typically write about my 5k races. Or my 10ks for that matter. These races are primarily for fun and to help me with the training goals I have set for my marathons. However, this particular race is a milestone, and I have thought a lot about it since its conclusion.

I’m not sure where this goal came from, why it came to mind, or when I started to believe I was capable of such, but I decided I wanted to run this 5k at 7:30 pace. Coming from a girl who only two years ago ran eleven minute miles in every race and in all distances, this was a big deal.

A few months back, Jason and I ran a 5k in Cullman at midnight. We were embarking on this little adventure to prepare ourselves for the late night running we’d be doing in the Blue Ridge Relay. I didn’t have much of a goal and I was pretty tired (my usual bedtime being around 9:30). I napped in the car as Jason warmed up, and then got crankily and creakily out of it in order to run 3.1 miles.

I ran that race in 24:09 and was shocked. I think that is when the desire to run an even faster 5k took root.

I chose the Liz Hurley Ribbon Run as my big PR 5k for a few reasons. The cause is a good one. I’ve known many women who have suffered from cancer of all types, and so with them in mind I ran. I was also on the Jacobs ESTS team, and while many of the other members of the team were not really racing, I still wanted to make my company proud by my efforts.

In preparation I pictured it. I thought about a strong pace and a big finish. I thought of overcoming any weariness or discomfort that surfaced, and I pictured obtaining the goal as if I were foretelling the future.

I raced around my neighborhood, running my first mile as hard as I could in order to feel what a 7 minute mile felt like, and then held a slightly slower pace for the second two miles.

I bought a pink shirt to match my pink and black shorts and bright orange racing shoes (per my husband’s suggestion).

And I pictured it some more.

Race day arrived and I was antsy and impatient to run. The men ran at 8:00 and the women ran at 9:00. Jason finished his race and I gave him my sweatshirt and Jacobs t-shirt to hold while I ran. He instructed me to get in front and I did. It was a new and strange feeling to have nothing between me and the start but a strip of pink tape. I stood there listening to the chatter around me and then the national anthem. I looked at the flag waving in the wind and thanked God for the freedoms our country enjoys, the freedom to race, and the desire to do so. I prayed for those who have fought the battle for our country and for those who have fought the battle with cancer. And then I ran.

The race went by in a flash. A few girls passed me and I passed a few as well, but for the most part we stayed single file, especially by mile 3. I didn’t realize that I would be able to see the finish line from such a long way off and when I saw it I couldn’t believe I was already there.

I heard someone running up from behind and determined that she would not pass me. She ran hard, but so did I and at the finish I crossed before she did.

I stopped my watch and looked down to see that I had not only achieved my goal, but surpassed it by about 20 seconds. Jason found me shortly thereafter and gave me a big hug and words of congratulations. I think he was just as excited as I was.

I grabbed a water and walked back to the finish line to cheer on my friends and family who were also running the race that day. As the crowd cheered, droves of women in pink ran through the finish line, many pushing hard and smiling as they achieved their own goals and records.

When results were posted, my name showed up 11th overall and second place in my age group with a time of 22:57. Never in my life have I been anywhere near the top 10 and I wouldn’t have believed my time it if my own watch hadn’t agreed.

Since the race I’ve thought a lot about my journey as a runner. I remember when it took all I had to run a 5k in 33 minutes, in 30 minutes, in 27 minutes. I remember when I didn’t care what I ran it in. I remember when I believed I would never be any faster.

And now I wonder what’s next? What more can I do? What else can I try?

And it seems the sky is the limit.