"Just this mile"

Here's the part where you all realize how self-centered I really am.

Over the past few month, I took the opportunity to train for the Nike Women's Half Marathon with the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society's Team in Training. We met twice a week for workouts: A muscle-crushing two-hour track event on Thursday nights, and eight to 12 mile runs on Saturday mornings.

Plus, I had to raise not a small amount of money in donations for LLS.

Sure, the organization is doing a great thing. Sure, blood cancers are horrific and finding a cure is top-priority. Sure, I was honored to help and inspired to give.

But mostly, I just wanted to get in good enough shape to run a (half) marathon. And I did. I surprised myself with my finish time, and the support of my team and coaches meant the world to me.

I didn't realize how much I appreciate all the training they gave me until I hopped on the treadmill this morning. Since I've reclaimed my Thursday nights and Saturday mornings (despite an open-arm policy for returning to train with the team for the rest of the season), I've been trying to log four miles before work every other day.

Before Team in Training, I'd fire up the treadmill with good intentions, but hop off about halfway through my workout. "That's enough," I'd think. Or, "Eff this" (more often). Or, "Ooh, my shin is starting to hurt. Better stop before I injure myself" (ha ha).

Now, two mantras keep me pushing away until I complete my mileage:

"I did Team in Training. I don't quit halfway though." Then I picture a mentor, or team captain, or teammate and how I'd feel to see the look on their face if I walked off the course before finishing my run. Despite my exhaustion on some (most) of the training runs and track workouts, I had unlimited and unquestioned support from teammates, coaches and mentors--but absolutely no tolerance for quitting. Even when I was close to tears and stumbling over my own feet (or sometimes cursing through muscle aches), I had a kind but iron force pushing me on.

If you do Team in Training, you don't quit. Period.

"Just this mile." That's what got me through my marathon. It was not exactly a mantra from Team in Training, more like something I took from the mentors who slowed their pace to help me through difficult sections of longer runs. "Just run to the tree, then we'll walk," they'd coax. Or, "Walk the uphill, but run the downhill." During Nike, when 13.1 miles were giving me the evil eye, I chose to focus on one mile at a time.

"OK," I told myself time and time again. "You just entered mile five. Just get to mile six. Just this mile. That's it." Lo and behold, I made it to mile 13, saw the finish line and swept across.

Now during my short-and-sweet daily runs, I can recognize that mile 1 might be difficult as I warm up; mile 2 is where my energy is at; mile 3 is "More than halfway there!"; and mile 4 is where I ratchet up the speed every quarter mile to get to the finish line all the faster.

So thank you, Team in Training, for taking me further than I ever expected to go, and teaching me how not to quit.

Thanks Coach Ed and Coach Jay. Thanks, Captains Ana and Brandy. Thanks Mentors Angela, Eileen, Heather and Jax. Thanks, Martha. Thanks Falcons Alanna, Daniel, Kate and Ronda. Thanks Makos Abra, Allison, Angela, Dirk, Laura, Peyton, Stacy and Wendy. Thanks Cheetahs (wahoo!) Amy, Camille, Cathy, Connie, Joanne and Shanell. Thanks honorees Greg and Dr. Suess.

I am more grateful than I can say for the lessons you've all taught me. Go Team!

When the going gets tough ...

It's easy to be thankful for the blessings in your life when skies are blue and seas are calm.

During those times, you can look around and be overwhelmed by the things you have to be grateful for, from the sun on your back to the extra chocolate chip in your brownie.

But when things aren't so sunny--say, when you just had a fight with your spouse, or when you've spent your last dime with a lot more to pay, or when the Very Important work project fell through--it's harder to play Pollyana and remember to give thanks.

At least, for me it is. My husband is consistently (but kindly) pointing out that as the glass goes, mine tends to be half-empty. I'm that little girl with the little curl. When things are good, they are very, very good. But when something goes bad, everything is horrid. On good days, I defend myself by claiming practicality, which is sort of like saying, "Yes, the glass is half empty--but that means there's room for more."

Then there are days when I know I'm a flat-out pessimist. Just call me Emily the Strange.

So today, when all I wanted to do in the world was to escape my house, I'm thankful for having a job to go to. A really good job. A really good job to go to with great benefits and a solid salary. A really good job with great benefits and a solid salary where the hard work I put in during college and my early career is recognized and appreciated.

These days, if that's not something to be grateful for, I don't know what is.

Thankfulness

I'm hoping SugarMamaBakingCo won't mind, but I'm stealing an idea.

After a year that would have turned most of us bitter and angry, Candace has come through. Maybe not at the other end, but with enough perspective to see--or imagine--a light at the end of the tunnel.

She's even spending her November giving thanks. Because we all get lost in our own lives, I think it's a good idea for everyone. So as she's blogging daily about what she has in life to be thankful for, I will too.

I think you should, as well.

With so much to choose from at the beginning of the month, I'll choose to be thankful for inspirations like Candace (who really won't mind me copy-catting her idea now!). Friends, writers, bloggers and others who turn our expectations upside-down; who inspire us to do better, be better or try better; who find the wheat among the chaff, the needles in the haystack and the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

This week (aside from Candace) I was inspired by the writer/director/actor Kevin Smith. I went to his Q&A session in San Francisco with my husband just for laughs--he's a hilarious storyteller. I laughed until I cried, until I couldn't breathe, until I thought I was going to pee.

Then he told a serious story. He talked about what happened when Judd Apatow came on the scene and started successfully making movies quite similar to the ones that Kevin Smith is known for.

He talked about asserting his talent in an "I'll-Show-You" movie we all know as "Zach and Miri Make a Porno." He talked about how it felt when the movie didn't meet all those high expectations out there, and how that low point led to an epiphany: That when you're approaching 40 and have had a successful career for 15 years, it's hard to tell sincere stories about 20somethings struggling to pay bills and find themselves.

He told the audience--comprised of hundreds of his biggest fans--that he's not going to do that anymore. That he won't be making those kinds of movies anymore. That he's taking a break from writing his fantastic films until he can find his (new) voice.

Then he made us laugh again. But more so than the belly laughs, I applaud him for standing up and being real. In a world where Jon Gosselin and political scheming dominate, I appreciated someone telling us he tried, he failed, but he's going to keep on trying because that's what he loves to do.

So thanks, Kevin Smith. Thanks, Candace. Thanks, Mr. Ottini. Thanks, Duggar family. Thanks, Michelle Obama. Thanks, Jorge Munoz. Thanks, Coach Ed.

I appreciate the inspiration.