One Mile at a Time - Vernonia Half Marathon 2019

by Jodi

Seriously hate this photo of myself, but I love that I got a shiny new PR and so I am setting aside my pride and posting it anyway.  

Yesterday I ran the Vernonia half marathon.  Point to point, this FAST beautiful course features one mile of climbing, six miles of downhill, and six flat miles to the finish.  The entire course (minus the last mile through town) is run on a rails-to-trails trail system through a beautiful forest, including a suspension bridge over a canyon. It is SO PRETTY!

This course plays to my running strengths.  I'm a decent, but slow climber. In every race, I get passed on the uphill, but the downhill?  I can run downhill like nobody's business. Six miles of a gradual descent sounded like a perfect set up for a new half marathon PR.  I tentatively put the race on my calendar.

And then I got sick.  Three+ weeks of recovering from what probably was the flu, forced me to bail on an early winter half marathon and shelve Vernonia for a different year. But I couldn't quite let it go. My heart was pulling me toward this course and I needed to find my running mojo again.

Once I had full energy back, I started training for Vernonia but I was rusty. It has been so long since I've followed a training plan for a solo race. It's much easier to talk myself out of a hard track workout than it is to lace up the shoes and try to hit paces I wasn't in shape to hit, especially in the cold, wet winter months.  Adding an intense training schedule to our already chaotic family schedule felt overwhelming.  I had a choice.  Quit on the training or break it up into small, manageable chunks.

"Just do one week of training and see how it goes," I told myself.  So I did.  The long run felt LONG, the track workout asthma-inducing, and the tempo run was way off the prescribed pace, but I did it.   I finished week one... One mile at a time. Before I knew it, I had five solid weeks of training under my belt.  I still wasn't anywhere close to race pace, but I was getting faster and the long runs felt less painful.  I knew I could cover the distance capably, but could I race it?  More importantly, was this the right time to try?

My son is a senior in high school.  The week before the race, he:

1. Chose a university to attend.  
2. Said "No thank you" to the other universities that were waiting for an answer.
3. Finished and presented his senior project,  a requirement for high school graduation. 
4. Played three varsity lacrosse games. 
5. Took his girlfriend to their senior prom. 

And that's just his schedule.  All three of our girls also play spring sports and we are gone every single night of the week, chasing them around and cheering them on.  Why would I add to the chaos of the weekend by throwing in a race?

I vacillated back and forth between "I HAVE to run.  I'm ready," to "No way.  I need to be there for my family."  Just ask my friends who had to listen to me verbally process. The indecision was annoying. Four days before the race, when I was on an "I have to run this" upswing, I registered for the race.

On Saturday, in between my daughter taking her ACT college entrance exam and my oldest two kids getting ready for prom, I made monster cookies.  Ya'll know that's a requirement for a good race. My husband made me a loaded bowl for dinner, another pre-race tradition.  We were up after midnight waiting for our Lovelies to get home from prom, but this is my life. Chaotically unpredictable.

The morning of the race my friend Paula texted me. She's been one of my running mentors for years and her words centered me.

"One mile at a time.

You are putting a race in your log book, whatever it is.  

You go from here.

It takes courage.

You have lots of courage.

No matter your time, you are stepping to the line and you will finish and be proud.  

Stay in your zone. 

Finish strong. 

One mile at a time." 

(I have the best friends).

Paula's words came with me on that run. I celebrated every mile.  Kept my head up to soak in the beautiful view.  Picked faster runners ahead of me to focus on and chase down. Prayed.  Worshipped.  Thanked God for a strong body to see His incredible creation on the run.  I ran for the joy of running.  It was freeing and it was a beautiful.

I didn't tell anyone until after the race, but weeks ago I analyzed the course and put together a race plan to achieve a PR.  I knew exactly what I needed to run for EACH ONE of those thirteen MILES to cross the finish line faster than 1:35:01.  I just didn't believe I could actually run those paces.  But you guys...

Sometimes things just come together and an unexpectedly perfect race falls into your lap.  Mile 9 was the catalyst. I walked through the aid station to wash down my gel and when I picked back up at the same effort I had been going before, I was 25 seconds slower for that mile.  I had to decide if I would keep that same effort or kick it up a notch to stay at the pace I knew I needed to run to earn a PR.  The Lord just sustained me and I was able to increase my pace and effort.  One mile at a time.

Mile ten was right on target. One mile at a time.  It gave me the adrenaline boost to make sure miles eleven and twelve were in the zone too. One mile at a time.  When I came off the trail into town I knew I had a PR locked down.  I crossed the finish in 1:32:47 (7:04 average pace), with a shiny new PR by more than two minutes.  First place age division, fifth woman overall.  What just happened? One mile at a time.

My race by the splits

who knew I'd be so happy with a ribbon? LOL.

I've run long enough to know that the perfect races are few and far between.  Most races don't go as planned.  Runners have to learn to appreciate what goes well, grieve what goes wrong, and look to the next race to improve.  To have a perfect race fall in my lap, when I was relatively unprepared, was such an unexpected gift from God.  

Today, as I hobble around my house on The Sorest Legs Imaginable, I am grateful.  For my friends and Hood to Coast teammates who texted and called all afternoon to say "Congratulations. I was cheering for you."  They know my running well enough to know that this finish time was outside of my norm and they celebrated with me.  I'm a thankful for my husband who supports my run streak and managed the home front so I could chase down a dream.  And I am grateful to my Jesus, who knows my name and loves me so intimately and personally.  To Him be the glory.  

One mile at a time.  

This statement is profound.  It's not just for running either. This year?  It's been rough. So much death, sickness, and loss, not to mention the emotional roller coaster of my firstborn getting ready to launch and move a thousand miles away to college. Life can be overwhelming.  

But friends, let me remind you of something.  

Life takes courage.  

You have lots of courage. 

Every day you get up and toe the line of a new day?  That takes courage. One mile at a time.

Facing another wave of grief?  That takes courage. One mile at a time.

Learning a new skill?  That takes courage.  One mile at a time.

We don't walk through the valley of the shadow of death in one fell swoop.  We do it with courage, one mile at a time, one day at a time.  And we do it TOGETHER.

No matter how long it takes, you are stepping to the line of life.  

You will finish and be proud.  

Stay in your zone. 

Finish strong. 

One mile at a time."

All my love,

Jodi