Well since I hadn’t seen Vickie for over a year, we got to reminiscing about some of our adventures on the bike trail where I used to do my long runs when I was training for my first marathon in 2007.

I told several stories about our training runs/bike rides in my book “Running Blind,” but this one particular adventure took place the summer after my first marathon.

I had called Vickie up and asked her if she wanted to ride her bike alongside me while I ran. She readily agreed since we had so much fun the year before.

The day started out cool, but by the time we were nearing the end of a 16 mile run/ride, we were both hot and my legs were sore!

Vickie suggested that we take this little trail off the main bike path in order to get to the creek that ran alongside it.

Well that sounded pretty darn refreshing to me, so I followed as Vickie led us farther and deeper into the thickly covered trail.

All of a sudden Vickie yells, “Oh My! Mosquitoes!!!”

Here I must digress for a moment.

I hate, I mean really, really, really, hate mosquitoes! When I could see, about the only thing that could get me to run in fear was the sight of mosquitoes.

But since I can’t really see them anymore, I have lost some of that primal fear. Don’t get me wrong, I still really, really, really hate them, as I get huge, monstrous welts when I get bitten.

And they itch like crazy, but I don’t seem to get quite as freaked out about them as I used to.

So back to the very hot and dense trail, that was apparently a breeding ground for the little blood sucking creeps!

Vickie is one of the most conscientious people I know when it comes to attending to me as a visually impaired friend. So even though she was freaking out at the bazillions of microscopic vampires buzzing around us, and she was running like the Wicked Witch from a bucket of water in order to get out of mosquito heaven, because she was still attending to my lack of sight, without breaking stride she yelled back at me, “Hold on to the bike seat!  I’m getting us the heck out of here!”

And with that she took off at a dead run wailing and screaming, flapping and swinging her arms all over the place while trying to steer the bike and keep it upright, hoping against hope that I had grabbed hold so she wouldn’t have to venture back into the thicket to drag my welted carcass out of there.

Me in the mean time, I’m holding on to the bike for dear life, knowing that Vickie, even though she loves me, will probably not come back for me if I let go!

So after what seemed like hours of trauma, but was in reality only a few minutes, we emerged from the trail out onto the bike path, Vickie still running, and not stopping until we got to her truck a quarter of a mile away.

Relieved and laughing I said, “That was awful!”

Vickie was busy getting something out of her backpack in the truck. Before I knew what she was doing, still shaking, she put some kind of oil behind my ear.

I said, “What is this?”

Vickie said in a rattled voice, “It’s peppermint oil.”

Hmmm I thought, I never heard of peppermint oil as a mosquito repellent. So I asked her, “Is this to keep the mosquitoes away?”

“NO!” She said, still panic-stricken and breathless, “It’s to Calm us down!”

In all my years, I have never met another person who was more afraid of mosquitoes then I was. Yup, Vickie wins the award for most freaked out!

Needless to say we never did get to the creek that day to cool off.

How ‘bout it?

- Vision Runner

So, how goes the winter running now that our big snow storm of 2012  is a distant memory….NOT!  

With over 16 inches of snow in the main event, not a distant memory at all.

Here it is over two weeks later, and there are still quite a few tricky winter obstacles for me to be on the alert for whilst on my winter runs. One very obvious obstacle is ice in all its forms – from black ice to sleet falling from the sky to ice puddles and everything in between.

The morning temps have been in the mid 20’s F, so I know there is going to be ice when I run to work.

And by the time the afternoon rolls around, the temperatures have jumped up a bit into the high 30’s F to sometimes even low 40’s F. So we do have a significant amount of melting of the enormous amounts of snow we received.  Which means winter running is defined as slushy and sloppy in the afternoons, and treacherous and slick in the a.m.

Snow berms created by the plows are another potential tripping hazard. For me it is sometimes hard to see how big, and wide they are when trying to cross over them to get to the street crossing. But I use my white cane to poke and prod at them until I feel I can step on and over them safely.

Of course, the constant freezing and thawing and rain and freezing and thawing and snow always keeps the footing a question mark. Now that I am able to run in the mornings again, I have been wearing my cleats to help keep me upright.

With all of the obstacles thrown at me recently, it kind of reminds me of that ABC show “Wipeout” where they throw obstacle after hazard after spine-jarring spill at the contestants who actually volunteer for that kind of abuse.  (I imagine chiropractors can’t even watch that show for the horror of the trauma voluntarily imposed upon their bodies.)

There is one obstacle that threw me for a loop a few mornings ago.  As I was running down the very clear and easy-to-navigate bike path across town, I noticed that there was some snow in the middle of the path.

Well since I don’t have much 3D vision left, it is always best that I go around things in the path, but for some reason, I don’t know what it is about seeing something, and feeling I have to step on it?

But can you say, “Snow Boulder?”

Yep, a huge chunk of snow had broken off from the large snow bank along the side of the path and rolled right into the middle of the trail.

But I didn’t see it that way. I just saw a white patch on the black asphalt – and of course, I was thinking it was just snow on the trail – not a monstrous ball of snow standing sentry in the middle of the path.

Luckily for me it was so big, I just kind of fell on top of it. Yes, I know you can visualize it, kind of belly flat across it, arms flailing, very startled and amazed that this thing could just kind of sneak up and do me that way.

So I casually-self-consciously stood up, wondering whether anyone got to see such a fabulous display of grace and style, nothing battered but my fantasy of myself as a graceful gazelle, bounding beautifully across the open plains.

But it’s the small snow/ice chunks that are more dangerous to my life and limb, as those ones will send me flying in a more impactful way!

Anyway, I used my Herculean strength and rolled the icy snow boulder off the path, so no one else would fall victim to its hypnotic beckoning to run straight into it.

Yes, I admit – it was larger than life.

But that’s me; I like to run into big things. Just see my blog post entitled “Don’t Worry, The Bridge Is Still Standing” and you’ll see what I mean.

How ‘bout it?

- Vision Runner

But it had been close to two weeks since we dug out of our 16 plus inches of snow, and I was curious about the condition of actual bike trail where I like to run. I know that they usually try to keep it pretty clear for bicyclists and pedestrians and runners to have an easy path across town.

So I put on my running shoes and the ice cleats I bought for times when the path is not so clear and dry, and of course, my flashers – oh my!

So the going was still pretty torturous, I mean treacherous –  okay either works in this situation, as I had to go very slow and watch out for…err  rather, “feel” for chunks of snow and ice with my white cane. I knew that they were there just waiting to trip me up and slip me up!

But once I got to the bike and pedestrian trail, it was smooth running, as they did a great job of clearing it.

So, yay!! I got in 12 miles on Sunday, running the bike trail and skating the sidewalks.

Our local running club “Run Wild Missoula” was out doing 13 miles that day, and as I was out running in the same area, I got a big hug from Tim from the Runner’s Edge, our local running store.

It was great to see him. He helped me across some tricky snow berms at the crosswalks. “Thanks, Tim!”

The forecast is for warmer temps, so the route should dry up even better. And maybe the holdouts will actually clear their sidewalks like they’re supposed to (but probably not.)  But the warmer weather means by week’s end I could be back on my normal morning running schedule, albeit with soggy sockies and shoes!

How ‘bout it?

-Vision Runner

Well it finally came…Yes that dreaded snow storm. But it really didn’t feel like a storm. It was just a light snow falling for 3 days straight! Very fine and steady snow with no let up, until we ended up with over 16” of the white stuff.

Up until the 17th of January, I had been averaging almost 10 miles a day this year. I just joined Run Wild Missoula again, our local running club. They have a 1200/2000 Mile Club. All you have to do is log your miles on the website, and if you run 1200 or 2000 miles in the calendar year, you get a fabulous prize!

Last year they got running jackets. A fellow runner who I was talking to in my favorite coffee shop, Starbucks told me all about it because I had told her I had logged over 75 miles for the week.

When she told me that Run Wild Missoula had the 1200 Mile Club, I thought, “Heck, I’m on track to run a lot more than 1200 miles this year.” So I’m shooting for 2000 or more.

But as I said the snow came, and then it just kept coming like the clouds had finally been given permission from Mother Nature to let go.

When I woke up on Wednesday morning, T looked out the window and said “There is about 3” of snow out there.”

I said, “Is it runnable?”

She just laughed and said, “NO!”

That is when my life as a runner came to an end for 5 days!

Oh my! What is this world coming to?! Well can you say “snow shovel?”

We picked up our snow shovels and hardly put them down for 3 days. There was a run on shovels, and Ace Hardware ran out of them and had to ship them in from some of their stores across the state.

The only good thing that came from all that shoveling was a good workout!

One thing I did notice was although my back was aching from all the shoveling, but it was my middle and upper back that was sore, not my lower. So I know all my sessions at the chiropractor’s is working. This was just soreness from all the strenuous use of previously hibernating muscles.

I had every intention of going to work on Thursday, and had done all the shoveling and clearing I needed to do for T to drive me to work. But as we backed out of our driveway into the alley, we promptly got stuck…oops, there was over a foot of snow in the alleyway.

So I called work and left a message that I would not be in that day. Luckily one of our neighbors had a 4 wheel drive, and he hooked up chains to us and pulled us out.

Before he did that, we first shoveled most of the alley to the street so we would have a place to land when he pulled us out of the hole/drift.

T then backed our van into our driveway and there it stayed! We decided it was a good day to stay home!

On the news that night, we heard of numerous reports of vehicles getting stuck, and how treacherous the roads were. When it was all said and done I took Friday off as well, as the roads were still being cleared and I knew even if I took the bus, I would still have to navigate by myself downtown from the bus stop to work, not something I was willing to do with the conditions.

So on Friday morning T and I went out again and shoveled (again – so by now we were on about our 10^th shoveling event), and as T came from the front of our house down the alleyway, she said, “You know what makes me really happy?”

“This time when I’m done shoveling, the snow isn’t covering over where I just shoveled! Yes that makes me very happy indeed!”

We found out later that it was 5th biggest snow event since they have been keeping records in 1893! I think that it ended up being 16.7 inches! No wonder my back hurt!

Saturday morning I tried to walk to my mom’s place – just a few blocks away – but it might as well been 100 miles away. It was way too hard to navigate through the unplowed sidewalks, and then . . . it started to rain!

So before I could even get to my Starbucks a block and a half from my house, I had to turn around. And if you know me at all, it really does take a force of nature to turn me back from a Starbucks mission!

Okay by now it’s Sunday, and I am officially going stir crazy! T and I went grocery shopping and then drove down to see if the bike path where I run was clear. It was!

Right then and there I made a plan to have T drop me off where it was cleared, and I could run until the path was covered over.

It ended up being clear for about 2 miles. So I ran back and forth on the same stretch of dry path. Hey it was great to be running, and not on a treadmill!  It was sunny and in the low 30’s and felt great! I got in a total of 8 miles.

We have a city ordinance that your sidewalks have to be shoveled by 9 a.m. and by Monday I was tired of all these places where I travel being unpassable by a blind woman with her cane.

So I got on the city website and submitted several complaint forms about sidewalks that had not been cleared. I’m hoping to have a clear path to my running route and work by the end of the week!

Until then, T will drop me off after work where it’s cleared on my running path so I can get a few miles in each day. As Anne Burrell would say, “That makes me a HAPPY, HAPPY Girl!”

How ‘bout it?

- Vision Runner

Since the start of the New Year, in order to more fully absorb our gratitude, in the evenings T and I have been asking each other what  was your Happy High Five for the day.

What is a Happy High Five? It is anything that makes you happy. It is a fun thing to do with your partner, friend, or family member.

You will be surprised at what makes them happy.

For example, I told T my new red puffy calendar book made me oh so very happy.

And the little bitlets that fall off my bagel make me happy when I eat them off my plate.

T then said that one of her Happy High Fives was that the puffy book and the bitlets made me happy! It just makes me smile to think about it.

So as you can see, it can be anything that makes your heart swell and your lips turn up in a smile.

It’s a good way to end the day and drift off to sleep thinking about what made you happy that day. It’s all about underscoring the gratitude we feel.

Give it a try, I bet you end up with more than 5!

How ‘bout it?

Vision Runner

A few months ago I listened to Jim Fixx’s book “The Complete Book of Running”

One thing that really struck a chord with me was when he was discussing the concept that if you’re passionate about running, you will find ways to do it.

Well that got me thinking. . .

Ever since I started working the day shift at the hospital, my running has been limited to the weekends and the occasional day off. I didn’t necessarily appreciate that fact. 

Thinking about it though, I realized that I was doing a lot of walking to and from work: about 6 miles round trip. So I thought, “Why not run?”

Okay, well I could run to work but I knew I would not be satisfied with a measly little ol’ 3 mile run. That was almost not worth getting dressed for – although notice I said “almost.” Of course if that’s all I could run, I’d take it. J

But I thought if I got up a wee bit early, I could run a few more miles before the 3 miles to work.

When I was processing all of this, it was already November. So when I decided to try this, the days were getting shorter and shorter all the time!

So how early could I get up and run safely? It’s a tricky thing with my eyesight (or lack thereof.) Too dark and I can’t see a thing!

But morning twilight was just before 7:30 a.m.  I knew if I could see well enough, I could get in 5 extra miles before running the 3 miles to work, giving me a total of 8 miles, and then 3 miles back home after work. Now that’s what I’m talking about!  Yea, this could work!

Now I had to find a way to shower all the running off me before mixing in with the general population.  If I listened to Jim Fixx, well, he didn’t think it was a problem to smell a little sweaty. But sorry Jim, I just can’t do it! I have to face patients and their families and co-workers and of course, myself all day long. I much prefer smelling sweet as a tropical fruit salad to sweaty as an 8 mile runner.

Fortunately I work at a hospital that has a Fitness Center. For $20 a month, I could use the showers as well as the Fitness Center itself.

I really didn’t need to use the fitness equipment, just the showers. And score, the Fitness Center provided clean towels as well!

So I put my plan into action, and joined the Fitness Center, and the next day I got up before 7 a.m.

I had my pre-run meal of yogurt, and then proceeded to put all my blinking lights on – a total of 4, in red, green, blue and white. Yes I was a flashing fool, but thought it better to be seen as a flasher, then a fool!

I made out quite nicely on my run, as I could see fairly well. I was even able to time it so I could still stop and get my beloved lunch bagel at my favorite bagel place, “Bagels on Broadway.”

I had put a package of instant oatmeal in my running pack, so I could replenish my glycogen stores when I got to work.

As I write this, it’s been almost 2 months since I started running to and from work, and I feel great! I love the fact that I get to run almost every day.

I have run in temperatures as low as 9 degrees F, and my water had ice cubes in it when I got to work! But since I know how to dress for the cold weather, I stayed pretty toasty.

The only part of me that gets really cold is my hands. I was thinking I never had this problem in the past, but then I realized I didn’t have to run in such cold temps before, as my work schedule didn’t limit when I could run.

But not to worry about my fingers, as T’s mom and dad made me some really awesome hand warmers. They are filled with seed corn, and when you place them in the microwave oven for a couple of minutes they come out oh so nice and warm. I hold one in my left hand, and the other wraps around my right hand (that’s the one that I use my white cane with) custom made for me!

These corn bags have been a lifesaver, as I don’t think I could have run in such cold temps without them!

I really like it when it snows about an inch or two. The path I run on is asphalt and therefore the snow melts off pretty fast, leaving white edges in the grass and on the side of the trail. This gives me a great visual field: a black path with white borders! I wish it was like that all the time, then I could run faster and without the need of my cane so much.

Because of the angle of light and the frequency of having my black on white path, winter running can be some of the best and fastest runs I have.

All this running has made it possible for me to have the highest weekly mileage since I have been a runner. The last part of December I had 70 miles total for the week! Some might think it’s crazy to run that much, but I love, love , LOVE It!

So what is your passion? What is keeping you from doing everything possible to make sure you are able to enjoy and do what you love to do?

Make 2012 a “NO Excuses” year!

How ‘bout it?

-Vision Runner

My O’l Buddy Joe

Runners are hugely loving and generous people in general. And it never ceases to amaze me the genuine compassion and willingness to help that it is exhibited by my fellow runners.

I’ve always had good experiences when running in organized races, especially when running with my white cane.  And the running of my third full marathon was no exception.

Whenever the cannon booms for the start of the race, there is a moment of trepidation and subtle uncertainty inside of me – a hesitation and wondering if I will actually be able to see well enough to make it the entire 26.2 miles to the finish line.  

This feeling only last a few moments and thankfully it disappears as I fall into a rhythmic pace with all the other racers. 

Unlike a lot of runners who take the beginning of a race as a signal to pass as many people as they can, I have to concentrate on a) not running smack-dab into the rear of the person I’m following, and b) not running off the edge of the road.  With all of that jockeying of racers taking place in the initial minutes, I’m content to just let them all pass me as they will.

Adrenaline can really get you into trouble at the start of a long race.  Going out too fast is one of the biggest mistakes a runner can make.  And believe me, I have done it and lived to pay the price!  Sometimes it’s hard to control because it’s such a high to be passing hundreds of other runners as if they are standing still!

But since the decline of my eyesight, I have been forced to take a backseat in the pack of runners, for my own safety as well as theirs!

As the crowd of runners thins out, I can mostly make out the white line on the side of the road, and I pretty much stick to it like a baby monkey to its mama, not letting it out of my sight. 

This year I was able to run for over half of the 26 mile race and it was 16 miles in before I needed to deploy my white cane. 

Even though I was running in very familiar territory, the glare of the sun, and the many turns, and the increased number of runners and walkers, all convinced me that I needed to get out my cane.

It insured that I would be seen.  The white cane not only helps me to navigate the path in front of me, but it also lets my fellow runners, volunteers  and the wonderful crowds cheering along the route to know that I don’t see too well.

It was just after mile 18 that I met Joe. 

He was running along, and graciously asked if he could help me around some tricky turns on the route.  I of course said yes.  He took my hand and gently guided me around some very scary drop offs and uneven pavement on the side of the road. 

As we continued on, Joe and I got to talking, and I found out that this was his 44th marathon in 44 different states since 2002!  WOW! 

What an accomplishment.  Me, with my own little ol’ third marathon nearly in the history books, I was appropriately impressed.  Yup  - he is going to run all 50 states.  How cool is that?!  I don’t know if I would have that in me even if I could see.

We were talking and I told Joe that I had written a book about my first marathon experience, “Running Blind – The Journey of a Blind Runner Training For Her First Marathon.” 

He asked me if it was on Amazon. When I responded that yes it was, he let out a laugh and said that he had seen it.  He couldn’t believe that was me!

Joe became my eyes as he took my hand once again and led me through the tunnel area that always gets me twisted around and going the wrong way. 

At mile 21 T met me again for a hug and some well appreciated words of encouragement.  I quickly introduced her to my new ol’ buddy, Joe. 

 As I always do, I used my rendezvous with T to walk a few blocks and drink some water.  Joe kept running, and I was sad to see him go.

But as luck would have it, I would run (ha, ha) into him a little past mile 23. 

I had run into a small parked car when I had veered too far to the right, and another runner named Daniel offered his help to guide me through this part of the course. 

So there I was running alongside Daniel when I heard my name called out.  It was Joe!  “JOE!” I yelped in excitement.  I was very happy to see my ol’ buddy Joe again! 

Daniel, Joe and I ran along with me in the middle – my two bodyguards protecting me from stealthy walking trees and invisible cars!

Joe and I lost Daniel at a water station around mile 24. 

It was at this point in the race that I told Joe how much I appreciated all of his help and friendship, and that he was making it possible for me to meet my goal of finishing around 5 hours. 

Joe turned to me, his voice cracking with emotion and emphasized how I had made his marathon for him.  He thanked me for running with him!  He said his wife was going to be so surprised that he had got to run with me.

The last two miles seemed to go by like the first two, FAST!  Now how many times have you heard that from someone who has run a marathon? Probably not too often.

We took the turn onto the Higgins Street Bridge for the final  sprint to the finish line.  

Joe said if I would cross the finish line with him, he would buy a finisher’s photo, something he has not done in all of his 44 marathon finishes.  

I replied that it would be my honor to cross that finish line with him, as I could not have had such a wonderful marathon without him.

So with hands clasped and arms raised, we crossed over the timing mat together with the crowds going wild!  Well maybe not wild, but lots of cheering.

T met me to guide me through the corrals and gates and out of the finishing area, and our local TV news anchor, Heidi Meili from KECI TV put my finisher’s medal around my neck.

I gave Joe my card with my website on it and encouraged him to check out my blog, because for sure he would be in it.  

When I told T that Joe had seen my book on Amazon, she asked him if he had bought it. 

A little sheepishly, he said No, that he had bought “Born to Run” instead. Okay  - not  a problem – we’ve read that one and it’s a powerfully good book, too!  

So … all’s well that ends my best marathon to date, thanks to my new ol’ buddy Joe.

How ‘bout it?

-Vision Runner

The running of my third full marathon was a glorious event, to be sure.  Despite a few mishaps and delays along the way, I was still able to shave over 20 minutes off my PR, and finish with more fuel in my tank then should be possible after running 26.2 miles. Amazing! 

We had a very cool start to the 5th Missoula Marathon, with temps in the mid 40’s (Fahrenheit)  I had T position me at the start behind the 5:00 (5 hour) pace group. 

I felt good and well-rested, and I could see well enough (for a blind person, anyway :) )for more than the first half of the race.  It’s not until I got into town that I had to really slow down, due to all the turns, parked cars and other potential obstacles.  So I didn’t have to use my white cane during the first 16 miles of the marathon. 

This year they had put out orange safety cones all along the course – a good idea – but when I learned about it, I was a bit concerned.  Those little guys can give me grief and trip me up. So I knew they were there, but believe it or not, that awareness didn’t keep me from tripping on one half way through the race. 

I was feeling really strong, and when T met me at mile 9 she told me I was just ahead of the 4:45 pace group.  I was shocked that I was doing so well; I thought it was the 5:00 pace group I had passed.  After an electrolyte drink, a honey pack, and a pit stop, I was on my way into the very shady and beautiful Big Flat area of the course.

Now, the placement of the safety cones along the route was based on how much shoulder there was on the road.  As I run along the course, I use the white line as my guide, staying on it as much as possible. But when I have to pass other runners and walkers, I pass on the left, because I don’t know how much shoulder there will be on the right, and I don’t want to twist an ankle on the edge of the road.

It was just after mile 13, before the only hill on the course that I came upon two runners on the white line.  I went around them on the left, and I tripped on the bright orange safety cone that naturally just happened to be there! 

Down I went: hands stretched out in front of me, taking the brunt of the road rash!  I got up, moved off the road and surveyed the damage.  My right palm had a pretty good sized chunk of skin flapping off the wound, so I bit it off and spit it out with a growl! 

The passing runners who had seen my fall graciously stopped and asked if I was okay.  I assured them that I was, and thanked them for stopping to check on me.

Well I licked my wounds, literally and saw that my race number was torn a little, but not too badly.  Of course, I was feeling a bit deflated after the fall, as I had been feeling so-o good beforehand. It kind of took the wind out of my sails. 

Then, with an abrupt shift in attitude, I made a conscious choice, and decided that I was not going to be defeated: I was going to use this fall as a catalyst, to propel me like a warrior into battle.  I charged up the hill and was passing other runners that were using the the hill as an opportunity to walk and rest their weary legs. But not me! I was determined not to let my lack of eyesight bring me down again!

As I was descending out of the Big Flat canyon, I noticed that my legs felt great, not at all sore as they usually feel when going downhill.  I think this was due to the fact that we had been climbing to the “M” several times in the weeks before the marathon.  That’s a 620 ft climb over ¾ of a mile with 14 switchbacks…I’m sure that hill work is what had helped to strengthen my lungs and legs.

As I approached mile 18, T called out to me.  I slowed to a walk, and as I got closer I told her I had fallen.  She looked at me worried and asked me,  “Are you okay?” She then looked down at my hip that had a dark stain creeping down the front of my shorts. “Are you bleeding?” she asked with more than a little concern in her voice.

 I showed her my palms and replied nonchalantly, “Well, maybe a little on my hands.” 

“NO! Your hip!” 

I looked down at my right hip, and it was wet and dark.  Then T got a closer look and felt the spot.  It was sticky. “It’s HONEY!“  She laughed. When I fell, the honey pack I had in my “SPI” belt had burst open, and for the last few miles, it had been creating a sticky trail down the front of my shorts.

I hadn’t even realized it, but Oh, now that I knew it was there, I needed it to be gone!

I had never done this at any race in the past , but luckily I had packed an extra pair of running shorts for T to keep in the van.  Why? I had no idea – it’s a real mystery to me. But the day before the race, when I told T that I wanted to bring extra shorts, socks and Body Glide in the van for the race, she had asked me if I had read this tip somewhere. I just said, “No, I just feel like I want to.”  So I did!  And I am so glad of it!  And of course,  now I know why.

We walked a couple blocks to where the van was parked ahead on the corner of the race course. I got in the back seat, whipped off my sticky, gooey shorts and slipped into the clean ones.  T cautioned that I better not linger, as there was a police officer directing marathon traffic near the van, and I might get arrested for indecent exposure! 

So after my cleanup, I had my last honey pack and electrolyte drink of the race.

T met me one more time at mile 21 where I declined the electrolyte drink and honey that she offered, reassuring her that I would get some delicious gummy bears at mile 23.  Ultimately, the gummy bears never happened.  The race information had said that they would be there, but I didn’t see any. You know, being blind sometimes sucks!  But not to worry, I didn’t need the replenishment as I was feeling really good at that point. Normally I would have hit “the wall” by mile 20 or so…but it didn’t happen this time.

Another part of the race course that can get a bit tricky for me is along a very shady street lined with parked cars and round-a-bouts at several intersections.  At one point I think I was lost in a forested round-a-bout, fighting off shrubs and tall grass, when a spectator yelled for me to move to my right. “Go right! More right – right - right, now straight!”  she yelled.   I thanked her. I was going along okay until a little later I drifted over too much to my right and ran into a parked car!  Lucky for me it was a small compact car, and I bounced off it, only banging my right knee a bit. 

This incident inspired a fellow runner named Daniel to come up alongside me to offer his much-needed assistance. He mentioned that he saw me hit the car, and he was going to help me through this part of the course, if that was okay with me.  How nice was that?!

So Daniel and I ran, him giving me verbal commands, as to when to turn and kept me from straying off towards other parked cars!

With all the delays and mishaps and wardrobe change-out, I thought for sure I was going to finish, like in the previous years, in around  5 ½ hours.  But to my delight, I did the full 26.2 miles in a PR of 5:06:55! 

Making me oh so very happy! Couldn’t have asked for a better experience all the way around!

Tell me about your best adventure – Leave a comment!

How ‘bout it?

- Vision Runner 

I’m committed to getting the word out and spreading the message that you can do anything you believe you can, and I’d like to ask for your help in making “Running Blind” even more successful. Here’s how you can help make that happen.

1. If you haven’t read it, and you think it would be useful and engaging, please go to this link “Running Blind” and purchase a copy or two for yourself and/or as gifts for people you feel would benefit from a motivational and inspiring book about lifting yourself up to do seemingly impossible things!

2. If you have read it, please leave your comments and feedback about the book here on the blog.

3. If you have great things to say about it, you could even help me out by posting a comment or update on your LinkedIn, Facebook and Twitter feeds and recommending it to all your friends, family, acquaintances, hairdresser and strangers on the street as well  

4. You could go to Amazon.com  and leave a book review on the Running Blind page.

5. You could inquire at your local bookstore to see if they have a copy or two in stock.

6. If you have video capabilities, you could create a video recommendation and post it to the “Running Blind” book  page on Amazon.com – that would be really cool!

7. You could call your local newspaper and any contacts you have at blogs, magazines, bookstores, running stores, talk shows, etc., and suggest that they do an article, story, segment or promotion featuring me, Rhonda Copeland, aka “Vision Runner” author of “Running Blind – The Journey of a Blind Runner Training for her First Marathon.”

8. If you have any other great ideas…definitely include them in the comments below – we’d love to hear them!!

Thanks again for helping me to spread my message!

How ’bout it?

- Vision Runner

I just finished my third full marathon on Sunday July 10, 2011, about ten days ago.  And I guess what they say is true…Third time really is a charm!  I had the best marathon experience, despite a few mishaps along the way.

Not only did I finish the 26.2 mile race with a PR of 5:06:55, knocking more than 20 minutes off my best time, I finished strong and could have run further if I had wanted to…No I did not really want to, thank you very much, I was very happy to cross the line when I did!

But seriously, I just kept waiting to hit the “WALL”, but never did, never even came close to running in to it…Only parked cars, but that’s another story…

So in light of such a great marathon experience, I decided to look back and think about why it was that I had such an awesome marathon. This is what I came up with.

For starters, my overall conditioning is better this year.  I have been walking on average 7-8 miles a day for over a year and a half, setting up a really good base line for my fitness level. Of course walking isn’t enough. 

About 3 months before the marathon, I started to get up early to run 6 miles, approximately 4 to 5 times a week, in addition to my walking. Then I was doing my long runs on the weekend.  Then about 2 months before the marathon, we started hiking up to the “M” which is about a 620 foot climb above the Missoula valley.  It’s a ¾ mile switch back trail up a very steep mountain. We usually make it up to the “M” in about 20-ish minutes, soaking in the beautiful views of the valley below, and then heading back down.

I also finally got dedicated to my strength training this year. And I know that helped immensely.

Another factor that I believe played a major role in my marathon success was the food and nutrition element. We have been on a journey over the last several years to take baby steps towards being smarter and making healthier choices when it comes to food, without being too obsessive or rigid about the whole process.  This year I was able to cut my sugar intake a lot.  And we also started using portion control…Using actual measuring cups, and not my eyeballs…You can see where that might get me in trouble. J J  I wasn’t heavy before, but I was able to drop 10 lbs.  I was not even close to being overweight, but by trimming and toning to an ideal race weight, I had less joint pain after my runs, making recovery so-o much easier.

I also know that having my back in alignment for these past 2 years has made a huge difference in my training and ultimately in the great race I had and the easy recovery.  I was faithful about going to my wonderful chiropractor every month for my tune up, and going again 4 days before the race itself, just to make sure I was in tip top shape.

These were all things I had control over.  I simply stuck with what I knew worked, and implemented a few new strategies. One of my new tactics was to eat pasta with roasted turkey and broccoli for my pre race meal, and then having a delicious bagel from my favorite bagel place, “Bagels on Broadway” right when I got up at 4:30am, instead of the banana and yogurt that I had in previous years.  I still had yogurt, but since I had the bagel at 4:30, I waited until just before we left the house to have that. 

But there were things I could not control, such as the weather.  And what a glorious day it turned out to be.  We had a very cool start to the 5th Missoula Marathon.  In fact it was so cool, 45 degrees I wished I had kept my knit gloves for the first half hour of the race. But I toughed it out, and the sun came out and warmed my hands up quite nicely. 

It was a warm, sunny day, but the sun seemed less harsh, the light almost diffused, and I never got overheated like I did during my first marathon when we had that record-breaking heat wave. (You can read all about that adventure in my book: Running Blind.)

The other thing I don’t have any control over is my fellow racers.   As I get closer to town, I rely on the kindness of strangers to help guide me around turns, round-abouts and other potential obstacles.  Once again my fellow marathoners and the volunteers and spectators rose to the occasion!  Sometimes even grabbing my hand and saying “I’ll take you through this part here because there’s a lot of turns and obstacles.” (Thanks, Joe and Daniel!)

And of course I rely on T to be at our pre-designated spots to give me encouragement and my electrolyte drink and honey pack.  Without her support and willingness to get up at the crack of dawn to take me, and then to meet me four or five times along the race course, I know my marathon could not have been as successful as it was!

So not only did I have an incredible marathon this year, my recovery time was almost non-existent.  Sure, I was tired and my legs were a little bit sore, but not once did I have trouble walking down the stairs.

After the marathon, we took three days off and went to our favorite lake and camped.  There we floated in the lake and sat around the campfire.  By day four I was more than ready to run. So I did, running 6 miles that day, in addition to walking another 7 and climbing to the “M”.

So now that I’ve had the best marathon experience I could ever hope to have…the decision looms. I have to contemplate whether or not I want to run the full Missoula Marathon again.  Do I end on a high note?  Or do I keep riding this rollercoaster that is marathon training?

Hmmmm? What do you think? Leave your comments below!

How ‘bout it?

- Vision Runner

I was reading in a book…err… listening to a book, and the author was explaining how when her partner tells her a story about an experience or a story about his life before he knew her, the story – simply by the telling of it – became hers, too.

That thought really resonated with me.  Not only did I get what she meant because T and I relive each other’s childhood stories, but even more profoundly, with my vision deteriorating to the point where I can walk within a foot and a half of someone I’m looking for and not see them, I actually live every day through other people’s eyes.

For example, one morning while we were out for a walk, T stopped in the alley and told me there was a squirrel up ahead trying to move something.  As we got closer, she told me the squirrel was hunched over something, and seemed very anxious and wary.  We started walking again, and as we passed the squirrel, he did not run away but seemed to spread his body secretively over the object under him. 

T laughed when she recognized that the reason he didn’t scamper off as we encroached on his space was because he had one of those 6” seed bells that people hang from a tree or post to feed the birds.  That little guy was protecting his “Mother Lode” with his life!  Not even the close proximity of “HUMANS” could deter the greedy little fellow!

Okay mind you, I saw none of this.  But from the detailed description T gave me of the event, it is so clear in my mind’s eye that when I tell the story to others I say “We saw a squirrel….”  It is totally “my” story. 

T kids me and says she could tell me that there is a Great Blue Heron, a Canada Goose, and a fox drinking tea with lemon out of mason jars, and I’d believe her.  I told her “Don’t be silly; I would not… However, if you’d have said a Loon instead of a fox…”     

Anyway, you get the point. I rely a lot on T’s willingness to describe our surroundings and what’s happening out there in the arena of her vision…not just to tell me there is a curb and to “step up” or to duck under the low hanging branch…although I greatly appreciate that, too!

Even the insignificant things that a person with their eyesight may take for granted, like a single leaf dangling from a limb, slightly twirling in a light breeze, T will point out to me.

So when you see a “Willy Worm” crossing your path, or a bird preening its feathers, be sure to send up a thought of gratitude. I know I do for my “Sight Donor”.

How ‘bout it?

-Vision Runner

Yahoo!  My new book is finished.  It’s called  “Running Blind: The Journey of a Blind Runner Training For Her First Marathon”

I got it done just before I ran the 4^th annual Missoula Marathon last month. The marathon I finished in July was actually my second time running the full one, cause after I ran the inaugural Missoula Marathon, I’ve run the half marathon the past two years.

When I was finished with my first marathon in 2007, I was convinced that I had no need to put myself through that torture ever again.

It wasn’t until I started writing my book about my first marathon experience that I decided to run another full marathon, so that’s how I ended up running it again a few weeks ago.

But let me tell you about my book – I’m so excited!  “Running Blind” is all about my first marathon experience. It includes everything from what lead up to my decision to run a full marathon, to the long months of dedicated and consistent training and finally to the running of the full 26.2 mile marathon, including all of the many lessons I learned along the way.  It’s full of great stories and the humorous tales of my journey.

I hope you’ll buy a copy for yourself, for friends and family, and be sure to tell everyone you know, too.  ’Cause it’s not just for runners – it’s for anyone who enjoys a great read. We all have obstacles to overcome in our life; this is just my story of how I took on the challenge of one of mine.

Right now there’s a couple of special promos going on to get a discount on the book – Purchase Running Blind: The Journey of a Blind Runner Training For Her First Marathon with 15% off with coupon code BEACHREAD305 or

You can get free shipping with a purchase over $19.95 with coupon code FREESHIP. So use whichever code works better with the amount you’re purchasing!

Just click any of the  links on this page to order your copy today! Click here:  Running Blind or download the first chapter for free at the top of the right hand column/sidebar!

And Enjoy!!

How ’bout it?

-Vision Runner

As you may know, I have been training for my 2^nd full marathon coming up in July.  After writing my soon to be published book, “Running Blind: The Journey of a Blind Runner Training for Her First Marathon” I decided it would be fun to run another full marathon to be able to put into practice all that I had learned from the first time around. 

So starting in March, I have been adding miles onto my long run on Sundays.  A few weeks ago, I ran the 18 miles that my marathon training schedule said I was to run.  Not really having a route that is long enough to run straight out and back, I had to come up with a plan that would allow me to get my 18 miles in somewhere around town, in areas that I was familiar with. 

It did involve me having to back track some of my miles, and run past my house again, which usually makes me want to head straight for the barn like some kind of out of control horse, but since it was only a few miles into my run, I didn’t have a problem passing the barn…err my house. 

I was now 6 miles into my run with another 12 to go.  I knew if I ran all the way down the Kim Williams Trail, an old railroad route turned into a bike and pedestrian path, I’d be able to get my full 18 miles that I needed.  I have always enjoyed running this trail, but since my eyesight has gotten worse, I have not run on it by myself in a few years. 

The main reason I don’t run it is because I have to go a lot slower and really watch out for tripping hazards such as rocks, fallen branches, and small children. 

Once on the trail, I remembered how much I loved running on the well traveled path. The mostly dirt trail runs right alongside the river.  It starts at the edge of the U of M campus and goes in about 3 miles.  It’s very peaceful and pretty, but as I said, lots of opportunities for me to get tripped up.

So on this particular Sunday, I had to be extra careful as I was running the trail with 12 miles already logged on my pedometer.  My legs were getting fatigued as I turned around to head back, the last 6 miles home.  

But it wasn’t on the rocky, family and children-infested trail that I “ran” into trouble.  The trouble was much less obvious to anyone with eyesight. It  came on the newly paved Riverfront trail that hooks up with the Kim Williams Trail.

I had deployed my white cane after coming off the dirt trail, and was weaving it back and forth on the shiny new path, thinking how nice it was.  The weather had been a perfect 56F degrees and partly sunny. All of a sudden a gust of wind and some light rain began to fall, just as I felt myself leaving the path. 

I was on a downward slope, and I knew I had gone off the path, and was preparing to stop, when a very large and very hard concrete pillar stopped me instead! 

Imagine my shock and disbelief as I did a face plant into concrete.  My nose and upper lip took the brunt of the impact.  Thankfully my running hat and white cane kept me from hitting it super hard.  I’m not saying I didn’t hit it hard, but at least I didn’t knock out any teeth or break my nose!

This concrete pillar is attached to a major bridge.  Yup about the only obstacle on this path, and I run right in to it!

So I stood there licking my wounds….well, not really licking… I used a tissue, and made an assessment of the damage.  Other than a fat lip and a small cut on my upper lip, I would live to run another day.  I debated with myself whether I should call home.  But since I was not hurt too bad, and I really did want to finish my run and get my 18 miles in, I pulled myself together and continued on.  I’m just glad I couldn’t see the people’s faces as I ran by, I’m sure I was a sight to see.  I did stop and run cold water on my lip from a water fountain.

Sometimes it sucks to be a blind runner!

When I got home we got an ice pack for my lip.  I said, “At least I didn’t come home without any teeth.” 

T replied, “Just come home, we’ll deal with the teeth later, just come home!”  We  both laughed, what else could we do?  I know it’s scary for her to let me go out and be independent, especially when I do things like this, but she knows that I’m doing what I love, and really I am careful, and now I know not to run into pillars…Yes I knew it before, but now I REALLY know!

How ‘bout it?

-Vision Runner

It was an early March day, and we were returning from a nice long walk in one of our favorite parks.  To get to this park on foot requires that we walk along a busy street on the bike and pedestrian path. In fact it’s the same path I run on all the time.  But it is along a very busy street, with lots of cars and trucks traversing the blacktop.  

All of a sudden, T stopped in the middle of the path.  I stopped as well, as I was holding her elbow while she guided me.  She seemed to be lost, and pondering where to go.  I was really confused, as I’m the one who always gets lost in the middle of places I know! 

So I asked her “What’s the matter? Are you lost?”  

She didn’t answer me right away.  She kept looking to her left, then to her right.  I prodded again, saying “What is it?  What are you looking at?”  

She then said, with a bit of reluctance, “There’s a chickadee just outside the white line on the road.” 

I immediately wanted to go get the poor little bird, and said so.  But seeing the obvious insanity of sending a blind woman to the edge of a busy street heaving with rushing traffic to try and locate a tiny cloud of feathers, she would have none of that.  

She asked me if I was done with my coffee.  I said yes and gave her my empty Starbucks cup.  She then made her way to the edge of the road and scooped up the little bird into the paper cup.

She put the cup with the chickadee peering out, onto the grass near a bush.  I naturally wanted to see it.  So T brought me over to see our nearly road kill.  

Once I saw the tiny ball of fluffy feathers, I wanted to hold it.  With a sigh T said, “Okay, but we are not taking it home!”   

I said, “I’ll take it to my mom’s.”

T could see I was not going to leave the chickadee there in the grass.

The little bird was wobbly, leaning to one side, and its wing kind of drooped and splayed out on that side. According to our best guess, it looked like it had probably flown into a car.  If it had gotten hit by a car, it would probably have been more dead or disfigured. But since he was still awake and alert, and not too startled, we figured he was probably dazed.

I wasn’t sure if it would even live very long, but I really didn’t want it to die alone or be lunch for a local cat or something. I know, circle of life and all that, but I really have a soft spot in my heart for birds. I raised a sparrow when I was a kid, and I couldn’t leave the cutest little fluff ball here to become an interesting diversion for a playful or hungry predator. 

 “He shouldn’t die alone,” I said in the saddest, most pathetic voice I could muster. Unable to refuse my puppy dog eyes and plaintive request, T relented and let me carry him to my mom’s.

I held the chickadee close to my body as we walked the few blocks to my mom’s place. 

Once there, my mom and I cooed and awed over the bird, encouraging him to try to drink some water and eat some oatmeal. I don’t think he did, but we certainly tried to be persuasive with the menu of presumably attractive (to a bird) items that we had available. 

After a bit, T said she had to get back home, but reminded me in her most fervent “tough guy” voice, that under no circumstances was I to bring the bird home.  

I agreed, saying I would try to call my friend Vickie and ask if she could care for the bird.  But of course (you can see the foreshadowing from a mile away ) when I called Vickie she was not home.  

My mind was racing, what should I do? How could I make sure that my little “Phoebe” would be well cared for? You know, I have such a warm glowing feeling for birds in general, and this one in distress made my heart expand, kind of like the Grinch’s heart where it “… grew three sizes that day.”  So I asked my mom if she had an old tissue box I could have.  

I was going to make my little charge a soft, cozy nest.  So with the make-shift nest ready, I put the chickadee in it and set off for home.  

My plan was to leave the bird under a spruce tree near our home, where I always heard lots of little birds.  When I got to the tree, I took the injured bird out and tried to put it under the tree.  But the fuzzy little thing refused to get off my hand. 

As I knelt there in the grass next to the tree wondering now what I was going to do, my cell phone rang.  It was T calling me.  “Hello,” I answered the phone. 

“Where are you?”  T said, concerned. 

“I’m trying to put the chickadee under this tree by Shopko, but he won’t get off my hand,” I said in a somewhat desperate voice.   There was silence on the other end of the phone.

“Okay, bring the bird home. We can put him in the bushes over by our house,” T said with some hesitation. 

“I love you. See you in a minute.”  I flipped my phone shut fast as I could so she couldn’t change her mind. 

Now let me point out to you that it’s not that T doesn’t love animals. It’s just that she knew that with my vision issues, the job of caretaking this downy delight that I was determined to take on, would eventually fall to her in one fashion or another. And she didn’t really need one more responsibility on her plate.

Back in the Kleenex-box nest the bird went, and I slowly walked the block to home. T was waiting for me on the steps.

So I took Phoebe – that’s what we started to call our chickadee ’cause that’s the song they sing “Chick-a-dee-dee-dee, Phoe-bee” – out of the box, and T brought us over to a bush in the alley near the fence.  

As I was going to release Phoebe, a big, barking, black dog approached menacingly towards us.  Okay, not a good plan. 

I said, “How ’bout under the porch?”  T agreed, so once again I tried to get the bird to hop out of my hand.  But Phoebe was having none of it.  

Again I turned sad eyes on T and said, “I don’t know what to do, I think he just needs a little time to get his strength back.” 

T just looked at me for a long moment, then said, “Alright, bring him into the office.”  This little fuzz ball had easily wrapped itself around my heart, and was starting to attach himself to T’s too.

Once inside the warm office, I dug out my heating pad and put it on low under the  box.  I covered the opening in the Kleenex box with a tissue to keep the heat in.  

T and I worked on our computers, checking on our little Phoebe every few minutes.  He – or she, we don’t really know which – was sleeping.  After an hour or so, we heard Phoebe trying to get out of the box.  I took the tissue off and Phoebe hopped out.  

His wing didn’t seem to be drooping as much, and the fact that he was hopping seemed like a good sign.  I went to see what I could find in the kitchen for him to eat.  I really had no idea what chickadees ate.  I assumed little insects and seeds.  Hmmm, fresh out of both.  So I had some corn and bread that I mashed up.  I brought in some water too.  Once again Phoebe refused to eat, but I did get him to take a little water.

By now, his strength was building and Phoebe was hopping all over the room, but he did tire easily.  He would go exploring under the desk, then have to take a little nap. His eyes would close for a few minutes.  With all the hopping and flapping and his wing back in its normal position, I thought perhaps Phoebe was ready to be set free.  So I scooped up my little bird-brained friend, and we headed outside. 

Phoebe had been so active, I was sure he wanted to go, but when I opened my hands to allow him to jump off, he just sat there, looked at me for a moment, then turned his attention to his wing and proceeded to preen his feathers.  He seemed to be saying, “La, la, la. What?  I’m not going anywhere.”  So T and I looked at each other and laughed.  What a personality this little guy had.  So we agreed, Phoebe had decided that he needed more time to recover. 

I put Phoebe back in his box, but he just didn’t want to stay in it.  I was trying to come up with something I could rig up for him, so he wouldn’t have to be confined to the box, but not hopping all over the office. I was having a hard time keeping track of him, and did not want to squash him. 

Pheoebe had hopped up T’s leg, and was resting there.  She looked at me and said, “Do you want to maybe get him a cheap bird cage?” I could tell he was working his own little bird magic and casting a spell on her so that she was beginning to fall in love with him. 

So T looked up the phone numbers to a few of the local pet stores, and found a bird cage for under $15.  She went to the mall a few blocks away, while I was in charge of watching Phoebe.  Easier said than done!  After T left, Phoebe jumped out of my hand, and I lost track of him. 

Then I heard flapping and scratching coming from the space heater in the room.  Thank goodness it wasn’t on.  Phoebe had managed to hop/fly/I’m not sure how?  through the metal grate protecting the heating pan.  By the time I bent a few rungs and coaxed him out of his little jail cell, poor little Phoebe was totally exhausted, and I could feel his tiny heart was beating so fast.  He fell asleep right in my hands. The trauma of the whole day was taking its toll; he spent a lot of time napping that day. 

T came home a few minutes later with a small bird cage in hand.  She also got some millet seed and was told that most birds would eat this.  T put the swing and perches along with a food and water cup into the cage.  Then we put Phoebe in his new home for the time being.  

We had decided that if he was strong enough in the morning we would let him go outside.  I was still concerned about Phoebe getting enough to eat.  I wanted to go to the pet store just around the block to get some wild bird seed.  Not seeing the need, since she had just brought home millet from the mall, but noting that I was not going to let it go, she finally gave in and drove me to the store. 

The place was just about to close, and the owner was helping some other customers.  So we set out on our own to look for the seed. That’s when I heard it, an old crackly sounding, “Heloooow.”  I moved towards the greeting, thinking it was a clerk to help us, when T grabbed my arm and directed me away from the mystery greeter.  I asked what was wrong.  Why was she so freaked out?

She then brought me over to a very bald parrot!  Okay not exactly bald, but his entire body had no feathers on it – his wings had a few feathers and his head looked mostly normal, but the gruesome sight of the oddly proportioned “naked” bird still haunts T to this day.  I must admit it was not a pretty sight, but I felt bad for the bird.

Eventually we got some seed and left that little shop of horrors.

When we got back home, I filled Phoebe’s seed cup and watched as he went from the swing to the food, choosing to sit in it, rather than eat it. 

I kept asking T to look and see if he was eating, as I could not see well enough to make it out.  She watched, and to our surprise the chickadee ate a few seeds!  I was very happy and optimistic that maybe Phoebe would be okay.  

T found an old towel, and we draped it over the back half of the cage, and shut off the lights, as Phoebe had perched on the swing and put his little head behind his wing. Nighty-night.

Now you might think this story had a happy ending, and I suppose, in a way, it does. But the next morning when we went to check on Phoebe, T couldn’t find him. Then she spotted the bird lying on the bottom of the cage…dead…yes our poor little Phoebe had died. Probably the shock to his system, along with the internal injuries were too extensive. He had been doing so much better the night before. We were both surprised and sad that our little distraction from the everyday routine was gone. 

But I was also able to look on it as a gift.  With my eyesight the way it is now, I am not able to see birds the way I used to.  So to be able to hold and look at this little chickadee up close was truly a gift from God. 

Even though the time we had with our little Phoebe was limited, he melted our hearts, and we still to this day reminisce about the day a bird no bigger than a chicken’s egg turned our Saturday into instant parenthood. 

How ‘bout it?

-Vision Runner

When I first started writing my marathon book back in 2008, I really didn’t think I would ever run another full marathon again.  But as I wrote each chapter of the book, it seeped back into my bones, and eventually it became clear to me that I would indeed run another full 26.2 mile marathon.  Why? 

Well for starters, I really do believe I can run a better race.  Through the process of writing and reflecting on all the aspects of my marathon training program, I came to realize that I’m still learning.  And it would be a shame to not put into action all those valuable lessons that I learned from training, running and finishing my first marathon. 

I now know what it is like to put it all on the line: to dig for and find the will and determination to see something all the way through. To find the infinitely amazing spirit and drive that is buried deep within myself to be gathered up when I need it most. 

Until I was put to the test, how did I know if I truly had these qualities in me or not?  I had never really been a quitter before, but I’d also never really challenged myself to such an extreme degree, either.  

I hoped I did, but it was not until I was at my lowest and most desperate point in the race – the point where my fatigue and delirium were screaming at me and praying “Please, God!” for relief – that I came up against the question – Should I continue on or should I quit? 

My feet had been pounding relentlessly on the pavement for 20 plus miles, my body reverberating from the never-ending percussion; my right calf was cramping up; my leg muscles felt like the overcooked-to- the- point-of-charred, dried-out, roasted wienie barely hanging on to the end of a hot dog stick.  I was overheated from running in the 90 degree plus temperatures, probably dehydrated, and most definitely delirious with physical and mental exhaustion. It’s actually kind of surprising that I wasn’t reduced to the point of singing the ABC song while following a hallucination of a baby elephant down the street. 

Although there was no hallucinating, there was a point where I was feeling defeated and ready to quit, and hearing the confidence and support on the other end of my call for help, the absolute belief and encouragement emanating from my cell phone, pretty much wiped the defeat out of me, and kept me from repeating the thought that I was ready to quit. 

It was then I knew I had it in me – what it took to finish – not only the marathon, but whatever else life could throw my way. I continued on, definitely slower and in pain and misery, but with the knowledge I was going to complete my journey and the strength in my heart to carry it through to the finish line. After all, I had to make it to the balloons!!   

Running a marathon for me was the best life lesson I could have ever had…and I’m going to go back for a refresher course! 

How ‘bout it?

Vision Runner

How ’bout it?

-Vision Runner

The Daffodil Principle
~ by: Jaroldeen Asplund Edwards

Several times my daughter had telephoned to say, “Mother, you must come and see the daffodils before they are over.” I wanted to go, but it was a two-hour drive from Laguna to Lake Arrowhead. Going and coming took most of a day–and I honestly did not have a free day until the following week.

“I will come next Tuesday, ” I promised, a little reluctantly, on her third call.

Next Tuesday dawned cold and rainy. Still, I had promised, and so I drove the length of Route 91, continued on I-215, and finally turned onto Route 18 and began to drive up the mountain highway. The tops of the mountains were sheathed in clouds, and I had gone only a few miles when the road was completely covered with a wet, gray blanket of fog. I slowed to a crawl, my heart pounding. The road becomes narrow and winding toward the top of the mountain. As I executed the hazardous turns at a snail’s pace, I was praying to reach the turnoff at Blue Jay that would signify I had arrived. When I finally walked into Carolyn’s house and hugged and greeted my grandchildren I said, “Forget the daffodils, Carolyn! The road is invisible in the clouds and fog, and there is nothing in the world except you and these darling children that I want to see bad enough to drive another inch!”

My daughter smiled calmly,” We drive in this all the time, Mother.”

“Well, you won’t get me back on the road until it clears–and then I’m heading for home!” I assured her.

“I was hoping you’d take me over to the garage to pick up my car. The mechanic just called, and they’ve finished repairing the engine,” she answered.

“How far will we have to drive?” I asked cautiously.

“Just a few blocks,” Carolyn said cheerfully.

So we buckled up the children and went out to my car. “I’ll drive,” Carolyn offered. “I’m used to this.” We got into the car, and she began driving.

In a few minutes I was aware that we were back on the Rim-of-the-World Road heading over the top of the mountain. “Where are we going?” I exclaimed, distressed to be back on the mountain road in the fog. “This isn’t the way to the garage!”

“We’re going to my garage the long way,” Carolyn smiled, “by way of the daffodils.”

“Carolyn,” I said sternly, trying to sound as if I was still the mother and in charge of the situation, “please turn around. There is nothing in the world that I want to see enough to drive on this road in this weather.”

“It’s all right, Mother,” She replied with a knowing grin. “I know what I’m doing. I promise, you will never forgive yourself if you miss this experience.”

And so my sweet, darling daughter who had never given me a minute of difficulty in her whole life was suddenly in charge — and she was kidnapping me! I couldn’t believe it. Like it or not, I was on the way to see some ridiculous daffodils — driving through the thick, gray silence of the mist-wrapped mountaintop at what I thought was risk to life and limb.

I muttered all the way. After about twenty minutes we turned onto a small gravel road that branched down into an oak-filled hollow on the side of the mountain. The Fog had lifted a little, but the sky was lowering, gray and heavy with clouds.

We parked in a small parking lot adjoining a little stone church. From our vantage point at the top of the mountain we could see beyond us, in the mist, the crests of the San Bernardino range like the dark, humped backs of a herd of elephants. Far below us the fog-shrouded valleys, hills, and flatlands stretched away to the desert.

On the far side of the church I saw a pine-needle-covered path, with towering evergreens and manzanita bushes and an inconspicuous, lettered sign “Daffodil Garden.”

We each took a child’s hand, and I followed Carolyn down the path as it wound through the trees. The mountain sloped away from the side of the path in irregular dips, folds, and valleys, like a deeply creased skirt.

Live oaks, mountain laurel, shrubs, and bushes clustered in the folds, and in the gray, drizzling air, the green foliage looked dark and monochromatic. I shivered.

Then we turned a corner of the path, and I looked up and gasped. Before me lay the most glorious sight, unexpectedly and completely splendid. It looked as though someone had taken a great vat of gold and poured it down over the mountain peak and slopes where it had run into every crevice and over every rise. Even in the mist-filled air, the mountainside was radiant, clothed in massive drifts and waterfalls of daffodils. The flowers were planted in majestic, swirling patterns, great ribbons and swaths of deep orange, white, lemon yellow, salmon pink, saffron, and butter yellow.

Each different-colored variety (I learned later that there were more than thirty-five varieties of daffodils in the vast display) was planted as a group so that it swirled and flowed like its own river with its own unique hue.

In the center of this incredible and dazzling display of gold, a great cascade of purple grape hyacinth flowed down like a waterfall of blossoms framed in its own rock-lined basin, weaving through the brilliant daffodils.

A charming path wound throughout the garden. There were several resting stations, paved with stone and furnished with Victorian wooden benches and great tubs of coral and carmine tulips. As though this were not magnificence enough, Mother Nature had to add her own grace note — above the daffodils, a bevy of western bluebirds flitted and darted, flashing their brilliance. These charming little birds are the color of sapphires with breasts of magenta red. As they dance in the air, their colors are truly like jewels above the blowing, glowing daffodils. The effect was spectacular.

It did not matter that the sun was not shining. The brilliance of the daffodils was like the glow of the brightest sunlit day. Words, wonderful as they are, simply cannot describe the incredible beauty of that flower-bedecked mountain top.

Five acres of flowers! (This too I discovered later when some of my questions were answered.) “But who has done this?” I asked Carolyn. I was overflowing with gratitude that she brought me — even against my will. This was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

“Who?” I asked again, almost speechless with wonder, “And how, and why, and when?”

“It’s just one woman,” Carolyn answered. “She lives on the property. That’s her home.” Carolyn pointed to a well-kept A-frame house that looked small and modest in the midst of all that glory.

We walked up to the house, my mind buzzing with questions. On the patio we saw a poster. ” Answers to the Questions I Know You Are Asking” was the headline. The first answer was a simple one. “50,000 bulbs,” it read. The second answer was, “One at a time, by one woman, two hands, two feet, and very little brain.” The third answer was, “Began in 1958.”

There it was. The Daffodil Principle.

For me that moment was a life-changing experience. I thought of this woman whom I had never met, who, more than thirty-five years before, had begun — one bulb at a time — to bring her vision of beauty and joy to an obscure mountain top. One bulb at a time.

There was no other way to do it. One bulb at a time. No shortcuts — simply loving the slow process of planting. Loving the work as it unfolded.

Loving an achievement that grew so slowly and that bloomed for only three weeks of each year. Still, just planting one bulb at a time, year after year, had changed the world.

This unknown woman had forever changed the world in which she lived. She had created something of ineffable magnificence, beauty, and inspiration.

The principle her daffodil garden taught is one of the greatest principle of celebration: learning to move toward our goals and desires one step at a time — often just one baby-step at a time — learning to love the doing, learning to use the accumulation of time.

When we multiply tiny pieces of time with small increments of daily effort, we too will find we can accomplish magnificent things. We can change the world.

“Carolyn,” I said that morning on the top of the mountain as we left the haven of daffodils, our minds and hearts still bathed and bemused by the splendors we had seen, “it’s as though that remarkable woman has needle-pointed the earth! Decorated it. Just think of it, she planted every single bulb for more than thirty years. One bulb at a time! And that’s the only way this garden could be created. Every individual bulb had to be planted. There was no way of short-circuiting that process. Five acres of blooms. That magnificent cascade of hyacinth!

All, all, just one bulb at a time.”

The thought of it filled my mind. I was suddenly overwhelmed with the implications of what I had seen. “It makes me sad in a way,” I admitted to Carolyn. “What might I have accomplished if I had thought of a wonderful goal thirty-five years ago and had worked away at it ‘one bulb at a time’ through all those years. Just think what I might have been able to achieve!” My wise daughter put the car into gear and summed up the message of the day in her direct way. “Start tomorrow,” she said with the same knowing smile she had worn for most of the morning. Oh, profound wisdom!

It is pointless to think of the lost hours of yesterdays. The way to make learning a lesson a celebration instead of a cause for regret is to only ask, “How can I put this to use tomorrow?”

Well lots of lessons learned, as you gathered from the last post. Now this one, I’ll focus on what I did right 

I can tell you the first thing I did right was to decide to run the marathon in the first place! 

I had always told myself I didn’t need to run 26.2 miles to prove anything, to myself or others.  But when Run Wild Missoula announced that they would be putting on a full 26.2 mile marathon in my hometown of Missoula in 2007, I was all over it. 

Deep down inside, I had always had an urge to run a full marathon. I had always said that I didn’t really want to because I didn’t want to deal with the hassle of travel and running in a strange environment where I didn’t really know the area or the race route. Logistically, running a race alone, away from home is stressful for a blind runner. 

But since it was going to be right here at home, wow – kazow…let’s do it! I felt I was at a good place in my running program that I could train for and run a 26.2 mile marathon.  

And what fun to be part of the Inaugural Missoula Marathon, especially if it became an annual event. It would be great to be able to say that I had run the Inaugural Missoula Marathon. That carries a little deserved swagger, don’t you think?

So when I started training for the marathon at the beginning of January, one of the first right things I did was to start studying all sorts of material on training for a marathon.  One very important tip I learned was to eat a recovery meal within the first 30 minutes after a run.  This was something I had previously not been in the habit of doing before I started my marathon training.

In addition, my overall nutrition plan became much healthier, as I really began to pay attention to what I ate, and how it would affect my running. 

One brilliant idea I had was to enlist the help of my friend Vickie to help me with my long runs.  By having Vickie ride her bike with me on my long runs, I was able to concentrate on running instead of things like traffic, and where or how I was going to get my water and power drinks to replenish on my long training runs.  She took care of all of that for me so that all I had to do was run.  There was the added bonus of having great company and conversation as she rode alongside on my run and of course, the rekindled friendship with a dear friend.

Another thing I did right (and would highly recommend to you) was to buy two identical pairs of running shoes at the beginning of my marathon training program.  I set one pair aside after I got them broke in. All I did was put about 150 to 200 miles on them, and then brought them out for the marathon.  This was great because I wasn’t wearing brand new shoes that were too stiff that hadn’t been broken in yet. Nor was I wearing a worn-out pair with too many miles on them. My feet had great support the whole race, and I didn’t need to buy a new pair of running shoes after the race, ‘cause there were still a few hundred miles left on the race shoes. Thanks Anders at “The Runner’s Edge”. Great advice! Now I do that every time I’m preparing to start training for a race.

Another good strategy was to tell as many people as I could that I was running in my first marathon.  This not only got me excited about running 26.2 miles, but it got others pulling for me, too.  Their respect, enthusiasm and awe of how I could even think of doing something like that as a blind runner, was highly motivational.  Since I knew they were watching and were going to inquire as to how my training was going, etc., it made me stick to my marathon training schedule, even when sometimes I wanted to skip a long run.  I knew by having told so many people about running the marathon, that I could not disappoint them or myself.  It was a very good tool to keep me motivated when my body was insisting that I “Stop this nonsense!” 

Oh yeah, I almost forgot. The most important thing I did right was… are you ready?

I finished the race! 

26.2 miles in just under five and a half hours.

5:28:00

Yea for me!

How ‘bout it?

-Vision Runner 

What I Did Wrong: 5 Lessons From My Marathon Experience

I think it’s important to look at an experience and figure out what could have gone better, in addition to what went right.  So, in considering my first marathon experience, I wanted to expand on some of the things I did wrong with my marathon training and preparation for the race.

As I look at it, I see about 5 significant things that I could have done differently to improve my overall marathon experience.  

I recently heard it said that it’s not “Experience is the best teacher,” but rather “Someone else’s experience is the best teacher.”

Obviously experience, whether your own or someone else’s, is a good teacher, but in the spirit of providing you with the best instructor (someone else’s experience) I’m going to share with you lessons from my own marathon trials and tribulations. That way, if you should decide to train for a marathon or half-marathon, these lessons that I learned could be beneficial to both of us.

After all if we’re going to spend 6 months training and preparing for an endurance race that lasts multiple hours, it would be wise for us to do more things right than wrong.

So…Away we go.

One of the first things that I know I did wrong during my marathon training program (and actually, I was aware of it when it was happening) was not doing any strength training, especially core strength exercises.

Even though it wasn’t until over a year later that I found out that my back was way out of alignment and that I was running over 13 lbs heavier on my right side than my left, by doing the core strength exercises I know I would not have had as much trouble with my right hip and foot during the 26.2 mile race.

Not to mention it would have been a quicker and easier recovery afterwards.

Another thing I should have done but chose not to (purely from an immediate gratification standpoint) was training in hot weather.  Since the Missoula Marathon is in mid-July, it should have been a no brainer…but I despised running in hot weather.  Big mistake on my part, as we had the hottest summer on record! 

By only training during the cool morning hours, my body was not prepared for the 90 to 100 degree weather that day. I totally screwed up my water and nutritional intake.  While I was racing, I was consuming way too many power gels. But I was in a panic – not knowing what else to do, trying to maintain my fuel tank and hydration levels.  Granted, in temps over 95 degrees I’m not sure how anyone can stay hydrated running for more than four hours, but I clearly didn’t help the situation.

The third major mistake I made was a mental error: starting out too fast.  For some unexplained reason, in my mind I thought I could run a 4:00 marathon – even though I had never run that fast in any of my training runs.  In fact, I had not done any speed work at all!  So that I chalk up to plain ol’ ego! 

By starting out at too fast of a pace, I set myself up for right hip pain, my foot going numb, and hitting the wall at mile 20.

And the one genuinely stupid thing I did, that I actually knew better than to do was wearing a pair of socks that I had not washed yet. And believe me, I paid for it with a nasty blister on the back of my heel.

Remember that thing I said about someone else’s experience being the best teacher? Well take advantage of this last lesson, cause this one I learned the hard way – I couldn’t have known it before I did it – but you can, now that I’m going to tell you: never, never sit down right after the race!  Not only will it be excruciating to try and get back up, but it’s embarrassing as you’re providing entertainment for anyone watching when you do try it. Walk around for about ten minutes or so after hitting the finish line.

I know the first instinct is to sit – for crying out loud you’ve just run 26.2 miles!  But don’t do it!   You’ll thank me when you don’t have to call for help to get off the toilet! Sure, it’s funny…but I’m not really kidding.

So now that you know what I did wrong, you won’t have to make the same mistakes – you can make your own. For that’s what it’s all about: learning from your mistakes, so the next race will be that much better.     

Ready to Run?

How ‘bout it?

-Vision Runner

Well let me tell you, after running my first marathon in 2007, I really needed some time off to heal.  After the stiffness wore off, I found that my right ankle was weak.  Sometimes walking on it, it felt like I may have had a stress fracture.  But it wasn’t all the time, and since I was not planning on running any time soon, I just made sure I was very careful with it. 

And my legs! They stayed sore for days.  I was amazed how long it took for my legs to stop feeling like twin tree stumps slogging through knee-high mud whenever I walked! 

Not only did I need to rest my body physically, I needed to rest emotionally as well.  Training for the marathon had taken up over half of my year!  In some ways it was hard to believe it was over.  For 6 ½ months my life revolved around my marathon training schedule, and now, suddenly, it didn’t. In a way, I felt more emotionally drained than physically. 

In the weeks that followed the marathon, I vacillated between elation and frustration. Of course I was proud of the fact that I had run a full 26.2 miles, but at the same time, I was disappointed that I had to walk a lot of the last 6 miles, which significantly slowed my finish time.  

I recognized that I had made some errors in my training and the actual running of the race.  It was too bad, but there was no way I was going to ever run another full marathon again…or so I thought. 

It was a good month or so before I started to feel the need to run again.  In the meantime I did a lot of walking, and that was just fine by me. 

It was not until over two years later, at the very end of 2008 that I realized that my structural alignment was off the charts.  A bout of sciatica brought me to my knees (literally).  During 2009 I spent lots of time getting to know my wonderful chiropractor and following his instruction on everything from stretching to hydration and nutrition.  And now I’m in tip-top shape. In fact, I’m in better shape than I’ve ever been in my life before considering that I’ve spent my entire adult life until 2009 with my back out of alignment as my body compensated for a knee injury I suffered in high school. In fact, I was so askew that I was 13.5 lbs heavier on my right side when I first went to see the chiropractor. 

Running now, with my body in alignment has allowed me to put in more miles in a week than I ever thought I was capable of.  It’s nice to know that if I ever do choose to run another full marathon, my alignment should have a major role in a better outcome at the finish line. 

Ready to Run?

How ‘bout it?

-Vision Runner     

Last year I ran in a little 4 mile race that took place in an area of town I am not as familiar with.  The Missoula Roots Run is in conjunction with the Missoula Roots Festival:  lots of live music, arts and crafts and plenty of food!  Having lived in Missoula all my life, I knew the area but had not run in this particular part of town since the mid-90’s.  So while I “knew” where I was, I was still a little bit nervous about running this race and staying on the race route. 

The race started at 11 a.m. which I thought was kind of a late start for the end of August.  But as it turned out, it was quite pleasant: not too hot yet with blue, sunny skies.  

The time was getting close to the start of the race, so T positioned me somewhere in the middle of the group of runners off to the right side.  

We were waiting for the bang of the start gun to go off when Anders, the owner of our local running store “The Runners Edge,” announced that we had to wait a few minutes to start the race as there was a train crossing right on the road we were starting on.  

As we stood there, a gal who was waiting next to us said she has seen me running out by her house.  I commented on the hill we would be running less than a mile into the race.  I told her I had not run hills in years, and was not sure how I would do.  She told us about what a fellow runner had advised.  

He said, “If you want to be good at running hills, Run Hills. If you want to run fast…Run Fast.”  

This was such a straight-forward concept, but very profound at the same time.  How many times do we say “I wish I could….”  But how simple it is, really: If we just simply did it, eventually we would get good at it.  

Me, personally, however, I do not wish to be good at running hills…

How ‘bout it?

-Vision Runner 

P.S. The hill was fairly easy, and I also ended up with lots of help on the race route as people were so generous when they saw I was using my white cane.  I am so grateful for the kind and loving women who took the time during their run to make sure I was okay and following the right route.  Sure makes me proud of my fellow runners! 

And I finished the four miles in about 46 minutes…Not too bad for a blind runner.